#she's all about the good of the collective but keeps a distance at first as a way of protecting herself from getting murdered

[aaagustd]

room for two | jjk: prologue

a series from the "Misfit Parent Collection"

⌞banner and dividers by @itaeewon

title: room for two

pairing: heir/retired boxer!jeon jungkook x single mother!reader

genre/rating: angst, slow burn, eventual smut, strangers to lovers, ceo!jungkook, divorced!reader, aged up characters (in their mid thirties), surrogacy/pregnancy au; 18+

summary: As you signed the contract, you thought all your problems were solved—and so did he. However, no one can predict what life will throw your way. 

Despite your prejudices, this journey will reveal that the bond you share goes deeper than your womb.

wc: 1.7k

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions a sh*tty parent, character death, borderline inappropriate workplace relationships but nothing has exactly happened, swearing, mentions boxing & knockouts, people either like jungkook or they hate him, let me know if i missed anything 

release date: april 26th, 2024; 10:50pm est

note: the prologue is here !! i hope you all are ready for this ride. it's been a two year journey for me and i'm so happy you all get to join me. we have a lot to cover and so many people to meet. i hope you're ready !!

series masterlist | main masterlist | inbox | join the taglist? | read on ao3

One year ago.

The doors open to reveal the setting sun on the horizon. Shades of orange and red paint the sky as the faint presence of stars patiently awaits the giant orb's final departure. 

Jungkook steps out into the crisp evening air without regard for the gusts that violently displace his perfectly styled bangs. His urgent steps have nothing to do with the conditions. After a long and exhausting day, he enjoys the nippy pre-spring breeze. 

He's almost completely drained of his energy when he approaches the exit. The first step he takes out of the building is like an instant charge. The wind hitting his face is like a slap that brings him back to reality.

If that isn't enough to wake up his brain, the sharpness of his security personnel's tone will surely make him alert. Two men of large stature guide him to his Porsche. He can only imagine the twinkle in his eyes when they land on his baby—resting idle while she waits for him to claim his rightful seat behind the wheel.

Jungkook nearly bypasses his guards as he takes excited strides toward his vehicle. However, a muscular bicep forms a barricade directly in front of the young CEO, reminding him of the dangers of wandering ahead of them in public. 

Only authorized people are allowed on the premises, but even a company as large as Sport's 5 cannot dictate who stands on a public sidewalk. Besides, the people who choose to spend their time out here are harmless, but he still understands the importance of safety.

Some people are so desperate they'd do anything to get a picture with the Big 5—a panel Jungkook used to sit on before being offered an executive position. 

Sport's 5 is made up of five individuals who have had exceptional professional sports careers. Mainly, retired sportsmen and women who still have love for the game.

Jungkook was offered a seat at the table before he could even properly hang up his gloves. Everyone wanted to know his story, his inputs and opinions, and, of course—the firsthand account of the KO he delivered right to Joey "The Rhino" Reese.

Although it was the best highlight of his career, he's never publicly spoken on that night out of respect for the legend and his family. It'd be pointless to keep retelling the events when they're online for everyone to see. 

Despite keeping his mouth shut about the fall of an icon, he still receives his share of hate from the boxer's diehard fans.

"Coward!"

He hears a man shouting insults somewhere from across the street, but most of his words are inaudible due to the distance. Though it can't be anything good because a family walking by promptly covers their child's ears every time the man opens his mouth.

Like on any other occasion, Jungkook shrugs off the spew of hate and gets into his car—wishing security a safe night. The engine roars as he pushes start, the sound of purring grasps one of the men's attention and he turns around with a point, a silent compliment that Jungkook accepts with a nod as he speeds away.

With nothing but headlights in his rearview mirror, Jungkook zooms through the city—wondering where his journey will take him. After the day he's had, home seems like a great option, but he isn't in the mood to spend a weeknight surrounded by silence in a large penthouse.

So, he drives downtown, aiming for any bar without a crowd. That shouldn't be too hard. Most people have work tomorrow. They aren't in the mood for a party, and neither is he. 

A distraction is all he needs to ease his restless mind.

He reaches the heart of the city and parks near the curb. Heads turn as he gets out of his vehicle, wondering who he could be. With his shades on and natural hair color, it's hard for people to recognize his identity these days. 

Still, everyone's captivated by the car he steps out of. They could care less what he looks like. The wealth that oozes from his body and his Porsche are the real attention grabbers. Without money, he's just another guy.

Jungkook adjusts his suit as he scopes out the area. He notices the establishment across from him has upbeat music blasting through the speakers. Judging by the people lined up, waiting to get in—it's more of a nightclub than a lounge.

He sighs as he eliminates one place after another, eventually deciding to walk the strip and see what it has to offer. He nearly misses it as he strolls aimlessly, but tucked in the corner—dark and rustic—is just what he's been searching for.

Somewhere laid back and secluded; just somewhere you go for a drink and maybe a few rounds of pool.

He can count on one hand the number of occupants that are in there, so before anyone can figure out who he is, he steps inside and removes his glasses. He scans the room and acknowledges those who randomly lock eyes with him.

Jungkook can't help but admire the way this place is set up. The outside doesn't do it any justice; he can't even remember the name on the sign. He'll have to check on his way out; maybe tell some of his colleagues to visit so it can gain some more customers.

He'll have to look into that another time, though. He doesn't want to spend too much time here, so he makes his way to the bar. 

Two women stand on each side; one is at the register printing someone's bill, and the other is already waiting for him to order.

The greeting he receives is warm and sincere. One you won't find in too many places. He offers a smile, the best he can give, at least.

"Hey. Just a Jack & Coke for me,” he replies.

With a small nod, the bartender begins preparing his drink. While he waits, he starts going through his phone, checking texts he missed while he was up to his neck in paperwork.

Most of them are from associates, his trainer, and…

His assistant?

The number isn't saved because he hasn't used it, but he sees the name in a previous message—letting him know he's speaking with the woman he hired four months ago.

6:54 pm (###) ###-####: Hi! I think I dropped my earring in your car when we grabbed lunch today. Can you check?

He doesn't have to.

Jungkook saw when the earring "fell" between the center console and the passenger seat. It happened right after it was dropped there by its owner. 

He can't help but laugh at the whole thing. Had he remembered, he would have said something immediately, but he has to admit that the low cut blouse was a great choice. He can't count how many red lights he almost ran sneaking glances.

Usually, he has no problem with keeping things professional, but with all the flirting and teasing that's been going on over the last few weeks, the temptation is becoming a bit unbearable. 

Maybe he should take a detour on the way home and return the "lost" item.

7:49 pm Him: I'll look in a few

After he sends the message, his drink is placed before him, and he abandons his phone without hesitation.

"Tab or no?"

"No, love. That’s it for me.."

He places a twenty dollar bill on the bar, and pushes it towards the woman standing behind the counter.

"Keep what's left," he insists.

She takes the cash and walks to the register, leaving him alone to sip his liquor and bob his head to some classic rock.

As soon as the glass touches his lip, he takes a large sip, and regret washes over his entire body.

"What the—"

"Don't drink that," the other bartender whispers sharply.

She rushes over and takes the glass from his hand, replacing it with a new one instantly.

"She's trying, but…"

Jungkook understands entirely. She's still learning. Everyone's been there, even him.

"Don't worry about it," he insists. "Let me grab my wallet—"

She declines.

"It's on me, sweetheart."

Before he can argue, she walks away and disappears with the horrible drink her coworker made.

Despite the little hiccup, Jungkook is glad he found this little gem. It seems like a nice place for a good time, but also somewhere to unwind. There's a bar, a dance floor, a billiards table—and whoever is in charge of the music has great taste.

He'll definitely be back, maybe even tomorrow.

The next sip he takes does exactly what it's supposed to do. "Goddamn it."

The liquor makes his mouth and throat tingle as it travels into his body. He can feel his body relaxing already. Now, all he needs is a shower, and—

His phone buzzes in his pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

Once again, the number is unknown. Jungkook has every intention of ignoring it, but his thumb accidentally presses accept. He stares at the screen in disbelief as he hears the faint sound of someone's voice on the other end of the call.

Slowly, he brings it to his ear and acknowledges the caller.

"Hello?"

"Hi, son."

Great, this is just what he needs right now. A call from his father, someone who basically disowned him for chasing the same dream that led to his wealth and success. 

"Yeah, I'm kind of busy. Can I call you back?"

He lies so he can end the call. There isn't a drink here that can give him enough strength to put up with this man. He can't deal with this tonight, and he won't.

"Hold on!" he shouts through the phone, making Jungkook release a defeated sigh. He's entirely prepared to hang up in his father's face if he has to, but he'll entertain him for a few more seconds.

"I don't know who pumped your balls up so large that you have the audacity to call me, but—"

"It's your grandfather, Jungkook."

There's a pause.

A long dreadful pause. It's as if Jungkook already knows what he's about to say, and unfortunately—his instinct is right.

"He's dead."

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fics #jungkook fics #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic #aaagustd.fics

[wayfayrr]

JRKWJFMKSKDKWDMKW HI HONEY!! Idk if the rquests are still open but if theyre not, just please ignore this one!!!

But something I would LOVE to see, is one thought that I had based on what @bokettochild said. Aryll having a crush on one of the boys!!!

At first I thought immediatly about ofc the Captain bc he is pretty and all, butbutbut reminind of me as a 10yo, I would find him pretty yes, but I would ABSOLUTELY GO FERAL over Hyrule and/or Four bc they were just my type, so I thought we could share this, me and her hihihihihi

So here's what I thought like, (Y/N) and Aryll talking about her little crush like a girls night (but the Reader dont really have to be a girl, is just for funsies!!) and Wind being all >:( maybe even a bit jealous that Aryll get to spend time alone with you hihihihihi

Just one thing!! If you end up wanting to do this idea, you can do it as a headcanons or a lil fic, whatever is better for you!!

I hope you have an amazing day darling!! You are amazing and I love everything you do hihihihihihi buh bay!!! 💚💚💚💚💚💚

I thought to do this as some little headcanons!! just to get myself back into the vibe of writing headcanons since it's been a little while <3

you're right though, she'd be the best to gossip with and have tea parties together - she's just a good little sister after all!!!

✦ gossiping with Aryll whenever you’re in winds time? She’s living for it, be it braiding her hair or showing her things you’ve been collecting over your journey. You pick her up some shells from wild’s time? Yeah you’re her parent now, that’s just how it works. 

✦ so for her to see you as a perfect role model (much to her brother's envy) it’s only natural that she’d see your partner in a similar light, after all if she wants to be like you then whoever you go for is who she’d go for right? just a harmless puppy crush on them <3

✦ so expect plenty of moments where she's pulling you aside to ask for advice about relationships, and if you ever try to go on a date then it's not a rare thing to spot her in the distance watching the both of you.

✦ while she tries to keep it more subtle at the start out of embarrassment for crushing on the guy you're dating, asking little none specific questions. but eventually it grows to outright asking how the two of you got together and such.

✦ dating four? She asks how you handle how he’s usually at the forge and what if you like sitting there with him, 

✦ Time? She’s asking what it’s like to be dating the hero of time (she’s grown up hearing legends of him, of course she’s going to be all over the chance to learn about him)

✦ Warriors - The pretty boy, the one who looks like the prince charming in all her books. No way is she NOT going to fawn over his handsome face.

✦ then hyrule? How could anyone not be in love with the fairy boy, when he’s able to make himself sickly sweet and appealing - it’s not like there’s any other reason he was so good at getting information from people. Not that he’d want to manipulate you of course, he just can’t help his natural charm. 

✦ if you're with legend then she's a little curious how you fell with his hard outer personality. Not that she thinks like that for long with the things that you can tell her about him. 

✦ And you’re right, wind is a fair bit jealous that his older sibling is having their focus away from him so often. Don’t get me wrong he’s so glad that the two of you are getting along but it wouldn’t be hard to include him more right? He looks at you like a kicked puppy until you let him join. He WILL gossip.

#this was a cute little set to write!!! #thank you for the idea love!!/p #Sorry it's on the shorter end though #linked universe x reader #link x reader #linked universe #loz x reader #the legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda x reader #lu wind

[bhaalsdeepbat]

I think Lae'zel would really enjoy having her nails painted. she wears warrior makeup all over her face and neck, she has those lovely little braids, she took the time to bead her hair. i think she likes having a little bit of polish to her look

#bat rambles #then her casual wear is her fucking cutoffs #but even then she like #has that huge ass belt buckle #girlie likes her jewelry and accessories and she likes her battle makeup #i also SERIOUSLY DOUBT she let anyone at the creche do any of that for her #she's all about the good of the collective but keeps a distance at first as a way of protecting herself from getting murdered #by another Gith if she made the mistake of letting her guard down #which would like #IMAGINE ok #i love the idea of the companions eventually having little rituals together #like astarion and lae'zel and karlach and tav/durge getting together for hair braiding #astarion is there to gossip and got shoved someone so he could be the back of the braid train #karlach puts the WORST braid in his hair that never comes out and it's so messy #he doesn't know it's there #also like #karlach and lae'zel and tav/durge getting with wyll and all of them decorating each other's horns and hair #lae'zel would be very >:T the entire time #but girlie would enjoy it she loves bonding time even if she pretends it's a bother

[anothertimdrakestan]

Pinky Promise - Damian Wayne x Reader !Soulmate AU

~ where your birthmark is where you'll first touch your soulmate ~

A pinky finger is an odd place to have a soulmate mark. Most people had full hands, a set of lips marked on their cheek, or a hand print on their hip. Yet yours was just the length of your left hand pinky finger.

No matter, you'd had the habit of locking pinky's with people since you were born. Call it natural habit or a desperation to link fingers with your soulmate, it was your thing.

So when you started your internship at the Bludhaven Police Department Sheriff's office and got finger printed you didn't think anything of it when officer Grayson paused on your last finger.

"This your soulmate mark?" he gestured to your pinky, which was darker than the rest of your skin colour.

"Funny right! Just the pinky. Most people have normal ones! Where's yours? Wait. Is it on your lips?" you glanced up at the officer with a grin as he flushed.

"We all meet our soulmates in strange ways." he mumbled with a smile.

"Truth or dare? Or Suck and Blow? It had to be a party game right?" you leaned in as Officer Grayson pressed your pinky into ink.

"It was more of a greeting, she's not from around here so it was her way of saying hello." he stated, eyes twinkling with a familiar joy. God you wanted that. He continued, "I'll tell you, I know a kid with a pinky mark too. Cant remember which hand though. I'll bring him in soon, though neither of you seem like each other's type." you noticed his brows furrowed thinking about the "kid" he mentioned.

"Bring him in like, a bad guy? Not sure that's my type! I'm just here to learn about forensics!" you giggled. The officer just shook his head and told you to go start reviewing the steps to finger print collection and storage. Sounded super fun and interesting (not).

Turns out there's a lot to learn about crime forensics. By the end of the day you had a backpack full of materials to study on your transit ride back to Gotham. Hiking up fire escapes to the top of your apartment building, you decided to study via the lights from the top of your building. Nothing like the haze of Gotham to comfort you through pages of reading.

"Glad to see you're back." A familiar voice chided from your side.

"C'mon, you're excited to see me!" you grinned into the darkness, willing the shadowy figure to come forward. Like usual, he did.

"Good to see you, Robin." you waved with a teasing smile as he visibly shook his head.

"Can't say the same Y/N. I had more peaceful nights when you weren't here. What's got you up late this time?" he grumbled, keeping his distance as you held up your bunches of papers exclaiming "studying! Always studying."

"And you can't do that from the safety of your apartment?" he questioned. You shook your head no in response. "Need I remind you of the multiple times I've had to throw people off this balcony for you?" he yawned, gesturing to the ledge of the rooftop.

"Aren't I so lucky you're protecting me!" you teased. He wasn't wrong, sketchy people had on more than one occasion lurked on top the Gotham's tallest buildings, but you enjoyed the view and trusted Robin far too much to change your place of comfort.

"Protecting Gotham." he retorted, moving towards the rooftop to jump towards a night full of crime fighting. You never tried to stop him from leaving, you still thought it was insane that he even paused to talk to you, so you just waved and watched as he launched into darkness. Curling back up with your notes you appreciated the blanket of safety his presence had placed on you.

~

"Damian I'm telling you she has the mark on her pinky!" Dick screeched, chasing after Damian who was not willing to hear anything he had to say. "What do I care Grayson? I don't want a soulmate, I'm busy," he retorted, cascading through the batcave to get away from Dick's prying eyes.

"Just let me see! I wanna know!" Dick cried but Damian had already slammed his door closed.

"Word on the street is Dames found a rooftop girl. You didn't hear it from me though." Tim called from the adjacent room. The two were usually stuck on patrol together so it did make sense. But Dick still couldn't believe it.

"Which goddamn rooftop." Dick's voice was a low hum, the determination dripping from his tongue. He had a theory.

~

"Morning Officer Grayson!" you called down the hallways of the BPD office. You'd finally gotten a full night of sleep last night because you had finished studying a couple days ago, free from the piles of work. Your morning glee quickly dissipated when you were promptly handed a stack of papers and binders.

"You're doing great work, so we're moving you up to sample analysis. Lots of reading for ya!" the officer sounded congratulatory as he handed you the piles of paperwork. You couldn't deny, this was what you wanted, but it was definitely more work than you could do in one day. Needless to say, you hoped you'd get to see a familiar bird brain that night.

~

Cozying up on the rooftop you were so deep into the inner-workings of a microscope you hardly noticed the shadowy figure that had appeared across from you.

"Studying again are we?" Robin's snarky voice made you jump, eyes snapping to his face. "Tons of work! Calls for an all nighter, what about you?" you simply replied.

"Patrol." His response was curt but you wanted more this time.

"What after? Tell me- what does a hero do in his free time?" you leaned in with a teasing smile. To your surprise Robin leaned back against the railing and responded "I like to draw." Giving you more of a key into him than you'd ever gotten.

"I'm a terrible artist but I bet you're amazing! Keen eyes and steady hands always make for good art. You should show me sometime! If you want!" you rambled with a grin. You figured it would be an automatic no, but the corner of his mouth twitched up, almost like a smile as he said, "maybe I will." Something blossomed in your chest.

"Well, you're always welcome here! Like, all night. It's brutal." you joked, gesturing at the piles of papers in your lap.

"I may just take you up on that, my brother has been overwhelmingly obnoxious at home. Have a good night." Robin muttered as he left over the rooftop railing once again. You smiled to yourself, he likes to draw and he has a brother? Fascinating.

You were practically asleep in your notes when you felt something bump into your chest. A surprisingly elegant paper airplane. From the shadows you could see Robin sitting across from you, back against the rooftop railing, a notepad and pencil in his arms as he starred up at you.

"What? You were practically snoring." he said matter-of-factly.

"For the record, I do not snore. Also, how'd you make this? It's beautiful!" you exclaimed, delicately holding up the paper airplane to appreciate the little curves of the thick paper.

"I was into origami for a while. It's almost mathematical, very satisfying." his reply was short again, seemingly focused on the sketching at hand. So you fell into silence with him, focusing up on your note taking.

You didn't exactly notice the sun starting to rise. It was hard to see in Gotham, smog and all, but the inkling of light from the hazy sky gave you a clearer picture of the boy wonder then you'd ever gotten.

It felt strange but he was gorgeous. Silky black hair tousled from running his hands through it in between pencil scratches, when he was focused he bit the inside of his cheek, eyebrows knit into determination. You appreciated the reds and yellows of his costume, noting the various weapons hitched across his body. But the rest was hidden. Whether behind his domino mask, his suit, or his silence.

"It's rude to stare at a working artist" he grumbled, chin tilting up to show that his eyes were meeting yours.

"You've never stayed this long." you replied breathlessly. Squirming in your chair, knowing that you couldn't get any closer without him running off.

"Your presence isn't, unbearable, for what it's worth." his voice was so low but you could hear the sincerity in his voice. "Same to you." you whispered back, letting your tired eyes drift back to your notes which were pretty much done. It was an all nighter after all.

It felt like a few minutes but the billowing light from the rising sun told you it had been longer, and your head was severely drooping into your lap. "Y/n, you need sleep. Go to bed," his voice was warm but stern, enough to get you to lazily collect your papers and stand up with a yawn.

"Well! Thanks for hanging with me!" deliriously you held out your fist, Robin tilted his head to the side in confusion. You chuckled, "it's a fist bump dumbass." And to your surprise he closed the distance between the two of you, and slowly touched his knuckled to yours. His gloves were cold but you were focused on the fact that you were just inches from the boy wonder.

But a few seconds was all you got to realize how much taller he was than you before he melted back into the shadows. You stood stunned for a moment before stumbling back to your apartment, desperate for sleep.

~

"You look like hell kid" Officer Grayson greeted you with a questioning look as you waved him off of you. "Your fault for giving me hours of reading buddy." He grinned glancing down at the now filled notebook you'd brought to work. "You actually look dead kid, on lunch break we'll grab coffee," you rolled your eyes at his promise but knew you needed the caffeine.

Getting to know Officer Grayson, Dick, was surprisingly rewarding. He had years of experience and hundreds of stories that had you folded over from laughter. But there was something you were begging to learn more about, someone rather.

"Have you worked with Robin much?" your question broke the calm silence. Dick's eyes shone with some sort of pride, "I have, yeah. Good kid. Cold as hell but a damn good hero." and you nodded in reply, although cold wasn't exactly the way you'd describe Robin.

Dick's eyes lit up at something behind you, he shot up out of his cafe chair and said "look what the cat dragged! Glad to see you lil bro!" A loud enough exclamation that you turned around and locked eyes with a boy with jet black hair and piercing green eyes. The boy stood stunned at the door, starring at you and Dick before slowly approaching, eyes trained to yours before Dick pulled him into a hug. Immediately, he pushed himself out of Dick's embrace with a scowl, you couldn't help but grin at the reaction.

"Y/N meet Damian, Dames this is Y/N she's an intern at the office! Damian has classes over here so I figured we'd catch him during our break!" Dick babbled as he forcefully guided Damian into the seat next to him. Damian looked almost stunned, eyes flicking between you and his brother.

You broke Dick's rambling saying "Hi! You're a student too?" and he nodded slowly, glancing between you and Dick. "Studying what?" you tried to guide the conversation but he interrupted:

"You live in the area?"

"Nope, Gotham."

"Oh, me too." was all Damian muttered before his name was called, and he shot up, mumbling a "nice to meet you" and giving Dick another glare. Dick just grinned in response and the two of you soon headed back to the office.

~

"You had no right to do that!" Damian's roar was echoing in the cave that night. He'd just finished throwing almost everything on his person at Dick who was still uncontrollably laughing.

"C'mon Dames, were you just gonna visit your soulmate every once and a while on a rooftop for the rest of your life? Make a move lil bro. You're Bruce's kid you've got to have some game!" Dick teased back before a stray batarang was lobbed towards him.

"I've got it handled." Damian retorted angrily.

"Fine. fine. But blame Tim cuz he's the one who snitched on the rooftop hookups." Dick cooed before ducking out of the room to avoid further assault. Another screech filled the cave.

~

A few nights later, you were perched on the rooftop once again. This time you didn't have nearly enough work, but were hoping a certain distraction would stick around this time.

And he did.

"Hey" his voice was soft, and your head rose from your book to smile into the shadows.

"Hi! Whatcha got?" you noticed the silhouette was holding something.

"Come see." you could hear his chest rumbling. You felt like you were floating towards the thick railing of the rooftop.

And there he was again. Holding a sketchpad.

"You brought drawings!" you cooed, grinning as he inched closer, leather gloves flipping pages as you drank in the beautiful sketches, watercolours, and poems that filled the pages.

"What do you think?" he whispered, you swore warmth was vibrating off of him, just a few inches away from each other.

"They're beautiful" you quietly replied. He flipped another page, and it was a pencil sketch of you half asleep in your studies, on the rooftop. "From the other night!" you giggled, delicately tracing the sketch with your pinky. Robin drew a sharp breath, loud enough that your eyes were drawn up to his domino mask.

"I've got one more sketch to show you. But, I fear you won't like it." his head dropped slightly, his gloved hand toying with the bottom of the paper, as if debating whether or not to flip it.

"I'll be okay! Promise." you nudged his shoulder, holding up your pinky, a true promise, and a dangerous solution to the question making you dizzy standing next to him.

He shook his head, "look first, promise after" to which you nodded, dropping your hand and eyes to the paper.

As the page turned, you couldn't help but gasp. On the last page of the sketchbook, in the most intricate detail, were two hands. Pinky's locked.

"Take your glove off." you shot your gaze back to the hero.

"Wait." he took a step back.

You took one forward, reaching for the glove yourself.

Back again. "Y/N, wait." you froze at your name on his tongue.

"You and I both know what's under my glove, but I'm giving you an out. I've sat here for months thinking about doing this, wanting to do this. But, you deserve someone who doesn't throw their life away, who can be there for you, someone who isn't... isn't me" he gestured to his outfit, stocked with weapons.

"Who can be there for me? You've protected me more than anyone else in my life. Someone who deserves me? I'm not a trophy, I'm, I'm your soulmate."

"I know, but-" he began but you weren't finished:

"All I deserve, is someone who can love me. Can you do that?" you closed the distance, and he didn't back away.

"It's all I've ever done." he whispered. Delicately, you reached for his hand. He let you draw it from his side, holding desperately still as you peeled the glove from his left hand. And there, in the same pattern as yours, stood his mark.

"You promise?" you gave a small smile, holding up your pinky for the final time.

"Always." he closed the distance, locking your hands together as a warmth like you'd never felt spread through your hand, dancing up your arm, and bursting in your chest.

"Oh my god do you feel that?" you asked breathlessly, your right hand touching your chest.

He nodded, letting your hands drop as his right hand tilted your chin up, your eyes once again meeting a mask.

"I never thought I'd ever do this" his voice was soft, drinking in your closeness to him.

"I would've found you" you said with a grin, you had always had the sixth sense that Robin's visits to your study sessions were more than patrol.

He scoffed, "yeah my brother was gonna make sure of it."

"Your brother?" you dug deeper, fighting the itch to reach up for the mask he wore, your heart begging to see his eyes.

You felt him tug his pinky from yours, "I suppose a promise is a promise." he reached up for you, pulling the mask from his face as familiar green eyes met yours.

"Oh. My god." your jaw dropped, fitting the puzzle together.

"I guess the universe decided I was taking too long and put Richard Grayson on job. I must apologize for the coffee shop, I wasn't expecting to see my Gothamite soulmate seated across from my brother, in Bludhaven. " he sighed, eyes twinkling. You laughed in agreement.

"Quite the wingman" you mused.

Damian nodded, closing the distance as he said "don't ever tell him, but I'm thinking he was right all along" before pressing his lips to yours.

~

Weeks later you were far less sleep deprived, still loving your job in Bludhaven. Especially because a certain student was always waiting to pick you up for the ride home.

"Hi Dames!" you strolled up to your now boyfriend, pressing a kiss to his cheek while he locked your pinky in his, the two of you strolling towards the cafe that has become your shared favorite place. Settling down in a booth, you both fell into routine: sketching and studying while enjoying the other's presence.

A crazy few weeks, a huge change to your life, but a good one nonetheless. You had to hand it to-

"I knew you lovebirds would be here!" The bell on the cafe door rang, drawing you and Damian out of your focus. Damian rolled his eyes with a scoff and you gave Dick a wave.

Dick was stroll strutting around, "call me cupid the way I matched you two up!" he crooned.

Damian dryly replied, "Richard we are quite literally soulmates." but the oaf wasn't listening, too busy pretending to shoot you both with an invisible bow "cupid style".

You smiled to yourself, if only Dick knew how grateful you and Damian were to have each other... thank to him.

~~~

A/N: pure fluff for your timeline <3 hope you enjoyed!

#damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne fluff #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne fanfic #dick grayson #tim drake #batboys #batfam #batfam x reader #robin x you #robin x reader #dc fanfic #batfam fanfic #damian wayne cute #damian wayne fanfiction #damian wayne soulmates #dick grayson x platonic!reader #dick grayson x reader

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 12 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, some angst, DESCRIPTIVE SMUT with maybe 1 pet name and 2 jokes, a bunch of reminiscing and relentless flirting (bc jungkook is dowwnnnn badddd), praise kink if you squint?, minors please don't interact

words: 7.6k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 12 ► fall into your eyes like a grave, bury me to the sound of your name

You and Jungkook were silent for a solid fifteen minutes after you let him into your hotel room. You were both sitting on the bed, but with so much distance between you that it felt like you were on two different floors.

After your phone on the bedside table lit up for the sixth time in the last fifteen minutes, Jungkook finally spoke up.

“Your phone keeps buzzing,” he pointed out helpfully.

“Yeah.” You sighed. Being silent with Jungkook oddly felt less draining than dealing with whatever was happening on your phone. “It’s Kai.”

Jungkook nodded, remembering your brother’s misadventures the last time you two talked. He was almost happy to use that as an excuse to dance around the elephant in the room a little longer.

“How is he?” he asked. “With his broken…”

“Leg, yeah,” you finished, leaning your head against the headboard. “He’s home. Mum’s grounded him. She’s turned off the router and taken his Xbox, so he’s texting me because he’s got nothing else to do.”

Remembering how angry you were when your brother got himself into trouble and upset your mum, Jungkook asked with a small smirk on his lips, “and you had nothing to do with the Xbox?”

You shook your head. “I don’t believe it’s an appropriate punishment to withhold things from your children. I think it makes them withdraw from their parents, especially when they’re seventeen like Kai. And it makes them annoy their siblings instead,” you paused. Then shrugged. “But I’m not a parent, so easy for me to say.”

Dignified, Jungkook cleared his throat.

“You’ve contributed greatly to raising your brother,” he said in a voice full of contempt for your family’s general tendency to use the nine-year age difference between you and your brother as an excuse to have you babysit for free.

Although your heartbeat increased at the sound of his confidence—and his almost reflexive habit of defending you from yourself—your outward appearance remained composed. It was easy to appear collected when you weren’t looking at him and he felt so far away.

“And look at him now,” you said, an ironic smile on your face. “A mess.”

Jungkook snickered. “He’s really not that bad.”

Sighing again, you ran a hand through your hair and felt your fingers get caught in the last strand, only adding to your frustration with your brother.

“Sure. He’s a good kid,” you said, looking up at Jungkook. “But he tries too hard.”

Jungkook saw the parallel, he felt it. You might as well have said that about him.

At last, it seemed like the time had come to address the real reason he’d come to your room. He knew that this casual chit-chat was only temporary anyway. But if he wasn’t careful, it would be the last time the two of you spoke to each other with such ease, such familiarity.

He cleared his throat and said, “this might be the hardest conversation we have.”

He didn’t need to elaborate, you understood. And still, you thought about his words for a moment and decided to disagree.

“Or the easiest,” you said. “I mean, everything important that we could have said, we’ve pretty much said already.”

He blinked, surprised at first. Then dizzy.

There were several things he wanted to say to you, but he expected to listen to you first. He knew you wouldn’t initiate a conversation about your feelings, but he’d hoped this was different, especially considering all that you’d said to each other on the street.

It wasn’t different. You sat across from him on the bed and you looked a little uncomfortable, but not particularly confounded.

He’d expected to find you grappling with questions, armoured with rightful accusations, but you appeared settled.

Maybe it’s because it’s been four years, he realised suddenly. He hadn’t been there to watch you build your defences. He hadn’t seen your walls grow.

He worried, suddenly, that nothing he’d say would mean anything to you. He worried that the only reason you let him into your room was to deliver the finishing blow—to tell him that you were done one more time.

He switched the arm he was leaning against the bed with; his right arm was slowly going numb. Actually, so was his left, and, if he was completely honest, his whole body felt a bit like it was floating away from him, but he tried to focus on the moment.

“Uh, w-we haven’t said everything,” he said.

You looked at him. “What else is there?”

“Two things.”

Inhaling sharply, you turned away. You did not really want to continue the discussion you’d had by the canal. In fact, you didn’t think there was anything to continue at all.

You’d walked away as soon as you realised that you’d come face-to-face with your break-up. And this was it. You’ve found the reason why this could never work. Why you and him together could never work. And it was truly simple: it’s because it hadn’t worked before. You already knew it, but you enjoyed the leisure of pretending that you didn’t.

All that you two had to do now, in your opinion, was reach a formal agreement that this would be it. You’ve explored each other’s boundaries enough during this tour. The time has come to stop. To go back to your normal lives, your regular jobs and duties.

However, now that he was here, there was hesitation behind your closed eyes. You had learned that the two of you had different ideas about why you broke up. And you’d spent four years boiling in them, convincing yourselves you’ve moved on from them, then facing them head-on when you really looked at each other again.

Perhaps there were a few more things you had to talk about, after all, before you could truly put this behind you.

Finally, you nodded your head once and told him, “okay. What’s the first thing?”

“The first thing,” he started, “is that I'm sorry.”

It was well known that “sorry” wasn’t always a heavy word. People threw it around like a pebble and watched it bounce off the surface of the water, rarely ever intending for it to sink, to reach the depths not visible to the naked eye. Jungkook had been one of those people many times in his life.

But the word he used here felt different.

It carried a weight that forced him to lower his head as he said it. As if all his thoughts had been poured into this sentence – this fateful “I’m sorry” – and the heaviness of it was difficult to bear. As if he’d assigned different meanings to each “sorry” in his head, and all these little pieces suddenly added up to one big word that took up the whole room.

“For not realising what I was doing back then,” he said, dissecting the apology, “and what it meant for our relationship.”

He figured there wasn’t much that you could say that would make it easier for him to breathe – the conversation by the canal, the bet, the apology, all of it was too significant to leave much room for oxygen in his lungs.

But you said, “I forgive you.”

And it felt a lot like you were performing emergency resuscitation and successfully maintaining his brain function.

He wasn’t certain if you’d said that because it was the right thing to say, or because you’d meant it. If it was the former, Jungkook would have rather suffocated.

“You do?” he asked, unsure if he was prepared for your explanation.

“Yeah,” you said. “I didn’t know that you weren’t—that you didn’t realise why—why we broke up the way we did. And it sucks that you didn’t, but…”

You faltered here and Jungkook was keenly aware how you’d said it sucks, but you’d really meant it hurt me. It hurt that he’d been dismissive, negligent, and heedless – and had the audacity not to realise it.

He closed his eyes while you finished, “it sucks more to know that, all this time, you thought I’d just walked away for no good reason.”

An apology was on the tip of your tongue, he could sense it. Although you had many reasons to be angry with him for being so impossibly stupid, you also felt guilty because all this time, he had thought you woke up one morning and suddenly decided you didn’t want to be with him anymore. Like it was your fault that he didn’t realise he’d been taking you for granted every day for months before you broke up.

You should have been angry with him. Instead, you thought you were responsible for not explaining your reasoning properly before you left.

He couldn’t even begin to describe the ache in his chest. He wanted you so much, but more and more he realised that he didn’t deserve you.

“I didn’t try to stop you,” he said before you could say anything else, because this was another element of his initial apology. One more thing he had to be sorry for.

You shrugged with one shoulder. Over the years, you’d come up with several reasons why he never fought for your relationship, not even considering that he might have assumed you had fallen out of love with him. At the end of every day, you simply thought he didn’t care anymore.

“I thought you were okay with it,” you said. “When I told you we were over, you just stood there. You didn’t ask why and I didn’t... answer.”

“I wasn’t okay with it,” he replied. “But I didn’t think there was anything I could do.”

With a thoughtful nod, you agreed, “there probably wasn’t.”

“Yeah, but I felt that way because I assumed that you—you didn’t want to be with me. That you didn’t care about me anymore. And you, uh,” he stopped here and waited for a long minute. Finally, he inhaled deeply. “You thought the opposite.”

You probably should have shouted at each other as you discussed this, you thought abruptly. That would have been appropriate. Maybe even healthy, all things considered.

But then, perhaps the realisation that you both had different views on why you broke up was precisely the thing that softened the impact. His hurt because you’d left him without an explanation, and your anger because he made you do it—they both took up outstanding amounts of space in your chests. They weighed you down. And they almost balanced each other out.

Perhaps you weren’t ready to shout just yet. Or not anymore.

Perhaps you’d left most of the shouting in the past four years ago. Now you were finally on the verge of closure.

That was the point, after all: the two of you boasted—really, there was no other word for it, you were both proud of it—that you’d never spoken to anyone about the details of your relationship.

That could have been admirable, of course, this utter devotion to each other and no one else. Except that, you didn’t talk about your relationship with each other, either.

“Do you think this is our own fault?” you asked. “We were good at talking about everything except… well, us.”

“I know,” Jungkook was quick to agree. You had both been like this from the very beginning—that’s likely why he was never fully aware of his behaviour. You’d always argued, but never about the things that really mattered. “I nearly threw up before I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

You did a double take, your mind racing to supply you with a memory that matched his words, but coming up short.

You squinted at him. “Did you actually ask?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but let it hang there, no words coming out for a good minute.

“You don't remember?!” he accused, his voice so high-pitched that it could almost shatter glass.

“I remember going on at least five dates before someone called you,” you explained, “and I heard you say into your phone, ‘sorry, I’m with my girlfriend.’ And that’s when I assumed that, huh. I guess I’m your girlfriend then.”

Jungkook could remember this exact moment. It was Sid who had called him because the two of them were working for Sid’s grandfather fixing his Camaro at the time. Jungkook had needed the money, while Sid simply enjoyed the ‘69 classic car.

The memory sent a shiver down his spine because he recalled turning Sid down. He had prioritised you over everything back then. What had happened to him later?

Regardless – in Jungkook’s mind, the timeline of your relationship was different.

“I vividly remember asking you on our second date,” he said.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you attempted to remember the very beginning of your relationship.

Your first date was the traditional movie and dinner—although it turned into a movie and the rain when you got stuck in the park. You recalled the whole day with near-perfect clarity.

Your second date was a week later, at the carnival in town. It took you three hours to get back to your dorms, because the event was held across the forest that separated the university campus from a small town nearby. Jungkook had insisted that you could walk home, he had claimed to know the way. And then he proceeded to get you lost within a few seconds of entering the forest.

All you could remember him asking you back then, was, ‘I know where I’m going, so trust me, okay?’ and that certainly did not include any terms that specified your relationship status.

Confused if you were remembering this wrong, you asked, “when we got lost on our way home from the carnival?”

“Before that!” he was even louder now, both of his hands in the air as he frantically explained, “on the Ferris wheel! I can’t believe you don’t remember!”

“On the Ferris—Jungkook, you had motion sickness the whole time we were on it,” you reminded him.

“I wasn’t sick,” he argued. “I was nervous.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “All you said to me during that entire ride was ‘please’ when we were at the very top.”

“That was me asking!”

“That was—” You laughed in surprise before you could finish the sentence. “Okay, well, you can see why I wouldn’t remember that, considering you didn’t use a lot of words to explain what you meant. I thought you were asking me to end the ride. Not that I could have ended it, but—”

“You said yes, though.”

You didn’t think you heard him right, his tone noticeably lower compared to the agitated screaming before. “Hm?”

“When I said, ‘please?’,” he spoke, “you said, ‘yes.’”

You watched him, considering it.

“I think I was asking,” you said and demonstrated, “yes?”

“No. You made a statement,” he disagreed, showing you, “yes.”

You pursed your lips, choosing to quit before this escalated into an argument.

“Alright, fine,” you said. “Maybe I read your mind, then.”

He scoffed, turning away. “And forgot about it…”

Nevermind taking the high road.

“Well, I didn't think it meant anything,” you argued, “you were—”

“I had a different plan. I was going to fully embrace The Notebook and dangle from someone else’s seat to ask you,” Jungkook said, “but for that to work, you would’ve had to go on the ride with someone else. And at that point, I couldn’t let you sit in that cabin with someone who wasn’t me.”

You could feel your cheeks stretching as an involuntary smile spread across your lips.

“That’s a little crazy,” you said gently.

“Please,” he replied, lowering himself on your bed until he was lying on his back. “It’s just crazy. I went on a binge-watching session of romantic films before our first few dates. I did my research.”

You knew him too well not to point out, “was it really only for research?”

“Alright, after the first few, I started to really enjoy them,” he admitted, earning a knowing nod from you. He smiled in response and continued, “but then I got to know you better, and I figured that if I serenaded you like Heath Ledger did in 10 Things I Hate About You, you’d break up with me immediately.”

Your laughter sounded so sincere and calming that Jungkook felt his smile widen as he turned his head to look at you from where he was lying on your bed.

“So I became a singer instead,” he said, encouraged by the lightness in your laugh. “You can’t break up with me if singing for you is my job.”

Your stomach performed an intricate Loop-the-Loop and then dropped, seemingly down ten floors, all the way to the lobby of the hotel.

Desperate, you tried, “you’re not—it’s not—”

Noticing you were about to downplay his words—either because you didn’t think he meant it, or because you didn’t feel comfortable knowing that he did—Jungkook changed the topic instead.

“Were you angry at me?” he asked. “For not chasing you after you left that time?”

Struggling to collect the remains of your thoughts, you spoke very slowly, “I... I was angry that you didn’t put in any effort while we were still together. After that, I thought you didn’t care anymore.”

“I did,” he said. Then, realising, he corrected himself, “I do. And I didn’t want to make the same mistake again today.”

Hesitantly, you asked, “how do you mean? Because I left today?”

He nodded. “I'm not going to wait another four years before we talk about us.”

“Jungkook...” you said, but the sound of his name on your lips caused your thoughts to jumble once more. Your words stuck to your throat as your heart threw itself against the walls of your chest. You hoped to divert the topic, “y-you said there were two things. What—what’s the second thing?”

“The second thing is that I love you,” he said in one quick breath. “I took everything we had for granted, and I’m sorry. But the truth is that even then I was—I-I’d never stopped loving you.”

A sense of déjà vu clouded your mind, while the rest of your body reacted as if this was the first time you’d heard him say this. As if the four years you hadn’t been together were long enough to start a new lifetime, and now you’ve met again, reincarnated into different people – Jungkook, the vocalist of a rock band, and you, the manager.

But, buried deep in your subconscious, locked away in a box that your brain dared not touch even in a dreaming state, was the memory of the first time he’d said these words to you.

It was spring. You’d been together for about five or six months at that point, and you’d skipped class together to go to the same park where you’d had your first date. You’d spent the whole day walking around hand-in-hand, reminiscing about the past, dreaming of the future, taking pictures of the freshly bloomed cherry blossoms, and picking up the pale pink leaves from the grass to throw them at each other.

During the car ride back home, you were so exhausted that you could hardly keep your eyes open. The two of you had been running around so much—his energy was infectious, you’d both acted like Golden Retrievers set loose—that your legs felt wobbly and unsteady.

After a few more minutes, you had lost the battle against yourself and settled more comfortably into the passenger seat, closing your eyes. Your mind was already beginning to fill with the bliss of sleep when Jungkook stopped the car at a red light.

He glanced at you, seemingly asleep on the seat beside him, and leaned in to press his lips to your forehead. When he pulled back, he noticed a pale cherry blossom in your hair and a soft smile on your lips.

It was nothing more than a whisper—“I love you so much”—that slipped from his lips because he thought you were asleep. Nothing more than an overwhelmed confession as his heart drowned in his feelings.

But, to this day, nothing has ever come close to making your heart beat nearly as fast as it had in that car when the light turned green and he drove back to your dorm, still thinking you were asleep. That first confession of love remained a secret between you, him, and the stray cherry blossom nestled in your hair.

Slowly, you opened your eyes as the memory tugged at each and every cell of your skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface. You looked around the hotel room before you dared to look at him again.

Contrary to what Jungkook believed, you didn’t appear collected because you were done. Or because you didn’t want to fight with yourself about wanting him anymore.

It was because you were tired of still wanting him so much in spite of everything.

You were tired of forcing yourself to let go. To move on. To be rational and responsible.

Tired of feeling happy about things that were probably inappropriate.

Tired of finding those things inappropriate.

But rationally, you knew that you had to leave this behind and return to your normal lives after this, regardless of what you wanted.

It’d be much harder—to an infinite extent—because this wasn’t how you’d imagined this conversation going.

Quietly, you broke the silence, “I’m sorry, too.”

“Why?” he asked, sitting up on the bed.

“We can’t...” the words trailed off before you could catch up. You tried again, “I can’t—we can't do this.”

He observed the battle behind your eyes and then spoke, very softly, almost inaudibly, “we’re not doing anything wrong.”

“We’re—"

“We’re the ones who put meaning to things,” he continued. Not to contradict you, but to reassure you. “If we say it doesn't mean anything, then it doesn't.”

You shook your head with a sad smile, the situation vaguely familiar.

“It’s never that simple,” you said. “There’s so much more than just you and me to consider.”

“It is simple,” he insisted. Then, just like back in your bunk on the tour bus, he asked, “do you want me to leave?”

Just like back then, you answered without hesitation, “no.”

“Then this can have as much or as little meaning as you want it to. I don’t give a fuck,” he said. “I’m yours. You are all I’m considering. And I’m staying.”

In less than a second, the determination in his voice made you realise that rational didn’t always mean reasonable.

Rationally, you knew you should have drawn the line. You should have left or told him to leave. Should have distanced yourself from him for the sake of your heart. Your job. For the sake of the atmosphere backstage.

You were aware of all the damage this could do. You were aware of the risk. Of the questions. Of the pain.

You were aware that you were having the very conversation that you’d stopped him from pursuing a few hours ago on the street. But your response to him was vastly different now.

Really, the situation felt different, too.

The second thing is that I love you.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—

You couldn’t imagine yourself leaving.

There was no place in the whole world that you would have rather been in right now. And no one else you would have wanted to share that place with.

It felt reasonable to stay. And wish for him to stay, too.

Jungkook had to scoot closer on the bed to reduce the distance between you two, and as soon as he did, he leaned in right away. He’d hesitated before, got scared, panicked and changed his mind. Tonight, he would do nothing of the sort.

His lips touched yours before you could formulate a single doubt and his kiss effectively silenced all the noises and echoes in your head.

Truthfully, he knew that there was a third thing he didn’t tell you, but when you kissed him back, less tentatively than the first time on the bus, he couldn’t imagine ever saying anything to you again. Speaking seemed like an immeasurable waste of time.

Instead, he pulled you closer, his lips locked on yours as one of his hands held the side of your face. His gentle fingertips contrasted with the coldness of his lip ring against your lips as he touched the skin of your cheek like he wasn’t sure, not even now, that it was really you he was holding. His other hand found its way around your waist and settled there—the gesture so intimate, so familiar.

He kissed you and it felt inevitable. Like everything you’d been doing up to this point was meant to lead you here – even the break-up four years ago.

As Jungkook felt your hands on his chest, careful and barely there, he mentally cursed himself for wearing this white shirt yet again—the fabric was too thick for him to properly feel you.

Still, he recognised the ghost of your touch as though he’d never been apart from you. As though you’d always stayed like this, locked in a desperate embrace in the tenth-floor room of a hotel in Amsterdam.

There were endless somethings bursting persistently in his chest as he tasted you, deepening the kiss by bringing his tongue over yours. Fireworks and flames and entire conflagrations all wreaked havoc on his heart.

This time, there were no promises of five minutes, and no curtains to separate you from everyone else. When you whimpered quietly, in response to him pulling you up until one of your legs was thrown over his and you were seated firmly on his thigh, he was the only one who heard it. The only one who felt your heavy breathing on his lips as he kissed you.

And if, by a lucky chance, there was any oxygen left in the room, neither of you needed it as your holds on each other grew tighter, hands grasping whatever materials they could reach and pulling—until he took your shirt off, until you took off his.

Every single one of your nerve endings was focused solely on him—his taste, his scent, his touch, his warmth, the roughness of his dark jeans underneath you, the softness of the skin on his chest. Your body instinctively drew closer, prompting him to clench his thigh as he wrapped his arms around you even more tightly.

His lips gently trailed kisses down your jawline and onto your neck, and it was as intoxicating as it was overwhelming. He remembered your body—how could he forget when it haunted his dreams almost every night?—but he yearned to create new memories, to trace the lines of your figure that he’d memorised and bring them to life in a new and different way.

You helped his eager hands find the edge of your sports bra and had to briefly pull away from him to slide it over your head. He pulled you back to him as soon as you did, needing to get lost in your touch, to feel your skin against his.

Your hotel room was filled with so much electricity, the two of you could have lit all of Amsterdam up.

“There’s so much I want to say to you. So much I have to say,” he breathed against your lips while his hands caressed your exposed sides, tracing the familiar maps on your skin.

You pulled him closer by gripping the back of his neck and exhaled, “show me instead.”

The meaningfulness, or rather, meaninglessness, of the moment seemed secondary. You wouldn’t analyse what this symbolised or where you stood.

Instead, you’d analyse how kissing him—touching him, feeling his skin, hearing his breathing—felt good. How it felt right. Like you’d been lying to yourself by doing everything else but this.

Sitting on his lap as he held you firmly in his arms—essentially trapping you in his grip, in his scent, in him—you could feel the rest of the world fade away into the recesses of your mind that you didn’t consider important at this given point.

Focusing on the feeling of his tongue against yours and the firmness underneath you, you allowed the scorching heat of the moment to take control of your movements as you instinctively moved your hips against his and forced him to suck in a shaky breath.

You undid the buckle of his belt and he had to pull back just a little, breaking the kiss. His head was spinning, overwhelmed by your closeness and the rapid beating of his heart. It wasn’t the first time you had been this close, but it had been so long, and he’d wanted this so much, that it felt like he’d never done this before.

Noticing your trembling hands, he helped you with his belt by loosening his grip on your waist. As soon as your fingers reached the zipper of his pants, he grabbed your forearms—successfully halting your progress in ridding him of his jeans—and swiftly flipped you over onto your back on the bed.

Your eyes met for a split second as he hovered over you, silently exchanging a conversation that neither of you dared to voice.

He leaned in to kiss you again and allowed you to get back to the previous task. Kissing him back, you finally managed to lower his jeans to his knees, and the simple feeling of your touch on the back of his thighs nearly made him see stars. Leaning his forehead against yours, he squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip to regain his composure.

He briefly sat up to kick off his jeans—as quickly as he could, because the room temperature fell a hundred degrees when he wasn’t touching you—and you took a moment to trace the patterns of ink on his arm with your eyes.

You were with him when he got his first tattoo.

He acted tough in the tattoo parlour, but once the artist took you both down to the basement, all of his bravery faded. It was rather chilly down there—Jungkook was pouting when he took his jacket off, revealing his shivering skin—and he’d chosen his knuckles as a place for his first tattoo. It was going to hurt.

He knew that, in theory. But the way he squeezed your hand and bit his lip when the needle pierced his skin for the first time still surprised you both. You weren’t sure who was in more pain by the end of the session—him, from the fresh ink on his hand, or you, from how hard he’d been squeezing your hand.

Now, he had a full sleeve. And you felt a pang of pain in your chest, because there were so many tattoos that you hadn’t seen him get.

You hadn’t been there when the needle pierced his skin again and again. You hadn’t seen the way he closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, and placed a hand on your knee—for support, for reassurance, for all-consuming love.

You hadn’t helped him apply lotion on the fresh ink, hadn’t teased him for being a baby, hadn’t been shut up with a kiss. You hadn’t traced the intricate lines on his skin with the tips of your fingers—careful, gentle, loving.

You hadn’t been there for four years.

But you were here now.

Just as your gaze reached his shoulder, your eyes locked on the patterns you’d never touched, Jungkook turned to you and caught you staring. The dazed look in your eyes before he had even done anything affected him in more ways than he could count.

With a wide, shameless grin and a raised eyebrow, he leaned into you again. You noticed right away that he was about to say something that would surely ruin the moment, but you pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him before he could.

“Don’t,” you warned. There was humour and light and excitement in your eyes.

Chuckling as if you’d read his mind, he pressed a kiss to your lips and mumbled, “wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Liar,” you exhaled against his mouth as he quickly slid your biker shorts and panties down your hips, your back barely leaving the bed.

“Honest,” he countered in a soft whisper, his lips hovering over your neck as his hands returned to your waist and he aligned your hips with his. “I have better things on my mind.”

It was hard to determine which one of you was to blame for ending this unnecessary bickering by inhaling too sharply – you, who reached the edge of his boxers and pulled them down, removing the last layer of clothing between you; or him, who gently caressed your thighs, drawing deliberately slow, teasing circles that inched closer to your core.

He managed to kick off his boxers without letting go of you—which was a talent that was difficult to advertise, but a talent nonetheless—and kissed you deeply. One of his fingers slid over your thighs and traced over your folds, causing your body to twitch in anticipation as you gripped his forearms for support.

His touch felt foreign and familiar at the same time – he knew how to find every single one of your nerve endings, but your body seemed to have forgotten that he knew.

It was almost frightening how he sensed exactly how to touch you to elicit a response—the pillows of his fingers effortlessly reached the bundle of nerves on your clit at just the right time to make your back arch off the bed involuntarily, seeking more friction. Your breathing grew louder every time he applied more pressure to his touch.

It really didn’t feel fair at all—the way he appeared to know your body better than you did, even after all these years.

A frustrated whimper escaped your lips when he added another finger, picking up the pace. He alternated between gentle rubs and teasing caresses, and his touch made your head spin, but you wanted more of him. All of him.

He only inserted a finger for a fraction of a second before lightly brushing it over your folds—the motion so sweet and then suddenly not enough. Your nails were about to draw blood from how tight you were gripping his arms.

“Don’t tease,” you exhaled, more a plea than a command. “Not now.”

There was a hint of promise here, and Jungkook smiled before nodding. He kissed your lips, but instead of pulling away, he increased his pace—toying with your clit with just enough pressure and at just the right angle that you could have cried out if you hadn’t been biting your lip so hard.

“Fuck,” was all you could respond with as your eyes rolled back from the intense sensation. “Jungkook—”

This time his name was encouraging. It was begging. It made him groan as he leaned in, already almost painfully hard as he rubbed your clit, spreading your wetness with his fingers.

“Hmm.” He touched your neck with his lips in a sloppy, wet kiss that sent shivers down your spine. “You look so beautiful.”

“Fuck,” you repeated, the relentless ministrations of his fingers rendering you incapable of a more coherent sentence. “Fuck.”

And just when you felt the pressure in your stomach building, he pulled away abruptly.

The loss of contact made you exhale with enough agitation for it to resemble a whine. This earned you a smirk from him as he pulled back slightly, convinced he was just doing what you’d asked because he did indeed stop teasing.

To be fair, it was for his benefit, too. Your body, your warmth, your heavy breaths—he knew it all teased him more than he could ever tease you.

Struggling to maintain his composure, he bit his lip and reached for his length, giving it a few languid strokes.

The first glimpses of concern started to creep in when he realised he had no protection, but he saw you nod at the pile of suitcases by your bed. Confused initially, he rolled off of you and approached what appeared to be a welcome basket on top of the pile.

“Don’t tell me…” he mumbled in disbelief as he picked up the wicker basket—decorated with an appropriate white bow.

“Yeah,” you confirmed his thoughts and sure enough, among complimentary bottles of shampoo and tubes of toothpaste, he found a box of condoms.

Under different circumstances, he would have embraced his inner teenager and dropped everything to giggle at this, but he tried to stay composed. That is, until he looked at you and saw that you were biting your lip in an obvious attempt to hold back laughter.

“Well, this is quite convenient,” he remarked, encouraged by your amusement, as he climbed back on the bed. “Almost meant to be, no?”

“Don’t spoil the moment,” you warned, pressing your lips together to conceal your smile. “Just hurry.”

“Say that again for me?” he teased. “I love it when you beg.”

Undeterred by the punch on his shoulder that he received in response, Jungkook laughed and ripped the bag open. He unrolled the condom onto his length with relative ease despite the slight shake in his hands.

You reached out to help him, and he realised he might actually pass out when he felt you touch him. The tips of your fingers were on the tip of his length as he brought it closer to your entrance.

He shook his head and warned breathlessly, all of his previous confidence gone, “I’m not—not going to last long.”

He could tell as much even before he entered you, but after you nodded—giving him voiceless permission—and, slowly, almost agonisingly, he slid inside, he realised he may have miscalculated.

He might not last at all.

Lowering his head as he paused, not even halfway in, he bit his lip in concentration and closed his eyes. He couldn’t get himself together when you looked like that under him—almost too lost in the feeling of him, in the pleasant stretch, in the way you couldn’t help but clench around him as your walls anticipated fitting all of him in.

“Fuck,” he exhaled shakily as you tightened around him. He really needed to get a grip. More sternly, he repeated, “fuck,” and, with a more forceful thrust of his hips, he fully bottomed out.

You threw your head back at the sudden motion, needing a second to adjust to the stretch. This was helped greatly by one of his hands as he caressed your hips, your waist, your breasts while he gave you as much time as you needed. Hė toyed with your nipple between his fingers and the gentle touch and the utmost admiration in his dark eyes sent sparks straight to your core.

After you quietly urged him to move, it still took him a whole minute before he felt confident enough to pull almost all the way out and then push back in, testing both of your limits. He looked at you—because he couldn’t not look at you underneath him, not even if it meant he’d lose himself right away—and the expression on your face was so dreamy that he didn’t even realise he shuddered in exhilaration.

Your head was still thrown back as you held your lower lip in a tight grip between your teeth. When you slowly opened your eyes, your gaze met his right away. And there was barely anything—fuck it, there was nothing—that he could have done to prepare for it.

He thought he may as well have died then and there because nothing in his life would ever compare to the colour of your eyes when you looked at him.

Swallowing the groan in the back of his throat, he leaned in to press his lips to yours as he began to move. It was slow at first, then his hips gradually gained more speed as he felt your warm walls pulling him in. Your fingers found their way to his hair, getting tangled in the dark strands as his hips pressed into yours harder—not just faster, but with more force, too, each brush of his length igniting a new fire inside of you.

He made it impossible for you to catch your breath as he kissed you with as much fervour as before, not once slowing down the pace of his hips. Everything he did was in response to you—the way you arched your back, your whimpers in between the messy, open-mouthed kisses, the way you pulled his hair, the way you held onto his shoulders.

He knew that if he lost concentration, he’d unravel immediately. It’s been so long, too long. He’s wasted far too many nights in foreign beds, chasing highs that had always felt forced and artificial. He wasn’t prepared for the real thing. He wasn’t prepared for you.

“Fuck. I’d missed you, my love,” he whispered hazily between kisses, each word accompanied by a thrust of his hips, “so fucking much.”

You felt shivers run down your spine again. If you could have formed a sentence—let alone voiced it—you would have reciprocated.

You would have told him that you missed him too. And you would have told him how much it scared you, the way this feeling was so intense that you seemed to disregard everything else.

But you couldn’t focus.

His length stroked your walls with an exemplary balance of force and tenderness. His tongue was in your mouth, the kiss hot, heavy, messy. His hands were all over your skin, warm, eager, relentless.

He filled your head with stars.

You could not speak, you could not say anything that wasn’t a breathless whisper of his name every time he pulled away to give you both a chance to inhale.

He understood you without words, however. And the response you had to him was about to tip him over the edge. His movements became too fast to be precise, his thrusts grew sloppy, his breathing got heavier, his groans louder.

The knot in your stomach formed much faster than you would have liked. You wanted this to last longer, but all of it felt reckless—dangerous and outrageous—and so good—too­ good—that you broke the kiss, a strangled cry of his name passing your lips as a warning that you were close.

“Yeah?” he whispered, kissing your jaw as he pressed his thumb on your clit. The rubbing motion matched the speed of his hips and the intensified pleasure caught you so unexpectedly that you could no longer control how loud you were.

Your heavy breaths mixed with curses and broken fragments of his name—he knew these sounds would echo around his mind for every waking moment—as your back arched off the bed and into him.

And when he heard you cry out, when he felt your grip on his arms tighten as your body jerked forwards, your hips meeting his, then lowering again in uncontrollable muscle spasms, when he felt your walls clench around him so much that they nearly stopped his movements, he almost whined, sensing his own high, brought on by the feeling of yours.

There were curses spilling from your lips as you came and you held onto him so tightly that he knew he’d have bruises on his arms tomorrow morning. Already, he couldn’t wait to look at them. He couldn’t wait to do this again.

His hips drove into yours—sloppily, accompanied by loud sounds of skin slapping on skin—until he fell over the edge, groaning loudly as he spilled himself into the condom. His body twitched as he pushed into you—one final stroke of your soft, sensitive walls—then he stilled completely.

His face was inches from yours, and you were the one who reached out to connect your lips, turning his groan into a dangerous whimper. Your kiss burned through him like electricity and, impossibly, seemed to prolong his climax.

He kissed you back like it was the first time, still powerless from his high, still feeling like he was floating, unable to come down, to pull out, to stop kissing you.

Breathless, you whined against his mouth and felt him stir inside of you, sparking a sudden new fire in your stomach before the previous one could fully go out.

He wanted you, needed you still—maybe he’d never stop. But it was the way you responded to him, the way he felt you need him as much as he needed you, that made him growl into the kiss as his hands reached for the parts of you that he'd touched hundreds of times tonight already.

It was almost desperate, the way you were still clinging to one another—like you’d never touched each other before and never would again.

Finally, you pulled away to inhale. And to, hopefully, recover.

“Fuck,” Jungkook whispered, summarising all that you were about to say.

You both chuckled, giddy, excited, almost euphoric.

He rested his forehead against yours and pressed another soft kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out, and stepping back to discard the condom.

In no more than three seconds, he was back on the bed next to you, pulling you to his side and kissing you once more.

It was three seconds then, he decided, that he could survive away from you.

For a good minute after that, the two of you just watched each other, your chests rising and falling as your bodies tried to fathom something that your minds failed to grasp.

Suddenly, you shook your head.

“What?” he asked. His lips were stretched into what felt like a permanent smile.

“Nothing, I just… it would be very difficult to explain where we were if someone noticed us missing,” you said—your words humorous, but the meaning behind them serious.

Even though you smiled as you spoke, Jungkook swallowed and nodded, solemn all of a sudden.

“I know,” he said. “And I don’t care if anyone knows. I only care that we do.”

You ran your tongue over your swollen lips, preparing to say something that he knew he wouldn’t like. But he was paralysed as he watched you. He swore your lips were the colour of his dreams, and he had to clench his jaw so he wouldn’t lean over and kiss you again.

He forced himself to roll onto his back and spoke up before you could, making sure his voice was as nonchalant as possible, given the hurricane inside his chest, “can we—can we not talk about that right now? Can I just stay here instead?”

You looked at him—which was incredibly easy when he wasn’t looking back at you—and forgot, for a moment, that you had to reply.

He looked almost ethereal like this, with his head resting on the pillows next to you, his hair tousled, stray curls sticking to the droplets of sweat on his forehead, his lips pursed slightly as he stared ahead. A part of you wished to take a picture, to hold onto this moment forever. But a different part of you didn’t want anyone else to witness him like this, not even the lens of your phone camera.

He suddenly turned his head to look at you and you blinked, averting your eyes as you remembered that you hadn’t spoken.

“Hmm. Yes,” you said, the word scratchy as it caught in your dry throat. You cleared it and tried again, “okay.”

Jungkook hummed somehow ambiguously and looked away.

“What?” you asked, confused by the look on his face.

“I thought you’d still tell me to leave,” he admitted.

You sighed. “You should. But I want you to stay. I’m fine with doing what I want tonight, however stupid that might turn out to be.”

He ignored the doubt in your voice—he was getting good at that—and looked at you again. He knew you probably couldn’t even begin to imagine the sort of fire your words ignited inside of him, and just how far the sparks travelled on his skin.

“Then I hope you know,” he said, “that I’m fine with only getting ten minutes of sleep tonight.”

Quietly, you replied, “I think I’m fine, too.”

“Yeah?” he asked, briskly turning to his side and propping himself up on his elbow with renewed excitement.

His abrupt jump made you chuckle despite your best attempts to remain serious, and his grin widened as he brought his hand to the side of your face and leaned in to kiss you once more. Then, twice more. Then three more times—in perpetuity, he hoped.

He knew that he was blessed to have experienced a lot of happiness in his life. But nothing came close to the feeling of your lips on his as the two of you played around in your hotel bed in Amsterdam, two nights before his band’s inaugural performance in The Netherlands during their first European tour.

This was a dream, it had to be.

And he was determined to do everything to make sure he never woke up from it.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “like that”

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#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jungkook au #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction #bts au #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts rockstar au #jungkook rockstar au

[rafebaby]

🎀 Blurb #2 Rafe needs to get kook!reader alone after she catches him doing coke for the first time 🎀 (Continuation of blurb #1, if you will)

Warning: mentions of drug abuse

As Rafe saw you appear in front of him a few hours ago, he had felt his heart sink. Eyes filled with countless question marks and a massive heap of disappointment met his gaze. But true to form, he had distanced himself too much from reality to respond with consideration. And so, he had let you leave with Sarah, needed you to leave with Sarah, as the pain and embarrassment made him feel nauseous. He immediately decided to fled his feelings by doing what he did best: letting himself sink into the couch and hitting the bong that was being passed around.

Year after year, Rafe had successfully put up the 'kook prince act' in front of you and further kept his distance, because he knew that a girl like you would never go with a guy like him. He accepted the way it was, was happy to know you only knew the Rafe he wanted you to know, so that your idea of him, the version of that was living in your mind, was at least someone you respected.

He breaks from his thoughts, still sunk into the couch, to check the clock. The fuzzy numbers come into focus, showing it's twenty past twelve. He figures about two hours have passed, but a twinge of unease hits him as he suddenly realizes you've been navigating his house, mingling at his party, surrounded by all these stupid people, and even worse, by all these stupid boys. He imagines them swarming around you. The mere thought propels him into action. Though without a clear plan, an instinct pushes him to seek you out. Without informing his friends, he starts wandering through the gathering, hoping you haven't left. To his surprise, he halts abruptly as he spots you sooner than expected. You're seated with Sarah and her friends on the porch sofas, drink in hand, but your gaze fixed on the floor while everyone else engages in lively conversation.

Rafe stood there watching for a bit, summoning courage, unsure of what to do next, taking in all of your features and how the shade of pink of your dress enhances all of them. From your plush lips, to your rosy cheeks and everything beyond. He struggles not to roam your body. Your thighs and waist. Your soft, exposed shoulders, your elegant neck... Another knot forms in his stomach when he sees the guy sitting next to you lean in, whispering something into your ear with a dumb smirk on his face. Your laughter noticeably uncomfortable.

Rafe movements are swift, propelled towards you before his thoughts catch up. Determined but slightly unsteady, he strides up to the porch. "Hey (y/n)!" Your face and the others' shoot up simultaneously, a collective startle. The boy who had tried to be so smooth just half a minute ago now shows a pale complexion at the unexpected sight of the Cameron's son. "Your dad's on the phone asking for you." Rafe lies easily. You rise abruptly, confusion and concern etched on your face. "What?" you question, and Rafe, managing to keep the deception going, adds, "Yeah, uh, it's urgent." You start walking over to him, past him, inside the house. "In the office." He adds impulsively, voice a little raised to cut through the music and general party noise. Without sparing him another glance, you make your way through the crowd and the rooms, through the hallway and eventually into the office. Rafe following closely behind you, struggling to keep up with your fast pace. He hates to worry you like this, but tries to convince himself it's for the better. After all, he had to save you from that no-good boy's intent.

Inside the office, your nervous movements intensify as you search for the phone, and Rafe quietly closes the door behind him. "Where is it?" you stammer out with an unusual frustration. "Where's what?" he feigns ignorance, opting to play dumb in the absence of a clear direction. "The phone, Rafe!" you express annoyance, and he stutters, "Oh, yeah, right, uh..." His gaze involuntarily drops to the floor beneath him, caught in the web of his own deceit. "there's no phone,", "there's no phone?","yeah, no," he pauses, and you just stand there looking at him in utter confusion.

"I didn't mean to lie, but..." he begins, interrupted with a firm "but you did..." "Yeah, just listen, okay," a glimmer of his fiery self surfaces. "I just felt like you needed to get out of there. Th-that guy is no good, you know, he's a creep." Your brows furrow deeper, and you counter, "He was harmless, Rafe, he just kept on making dumb jokes.", "You don't know him," he mumbles, his face clenching in growing anger. "Well, I don't really seem to know you either," you remark, your voice now carrying a sad realness. Your comment pierces Rafe right in the heart.

"You do," Rafe says desperately, "you do, (y/n), you've known me for years." You scoff and lift your eyes in disbelief. "I thought so too, but honestly, Rafe—" He cuts you off, unable to bear it any longer, striding closer. Your instinct is to take a step back, but you resist, refusing to let him intimidate you. "You do know me," he declares, locking eyes with intensity. "Just not the foolish version of me."

You can't deny its effect on you, your heart racing due to his proximity. You loathe how your feelings for him demand attention—feelings you wanted to bury after witnessing his actions earlier tonight. It shattered your heart; he looked so tense, aggressive, even feral, in that moment. Nothing like the composed, gentle Rafe you found yourself daydreaming about after family events. Yet, as he stands before you now, he appears strangely beautiful, with different versions of him seemingly in conflict. You just wait for him to say something.

"I just," he clears his throat, breaking eye contact nervously, "wanted to be good for you," Not realizing the way it makes your heart flutter. A spark of confindence pushes you to ask: "why's that?" You briefly look down, only to meet his gaze again. "Because you like me that way," he confesses, "and I wanted you to like me.", "And why's that?" you repeat yourself, wanting to dig deeper, seeking the truth from his lips.

Gazing at you tenderly, softening as only he can, he continues, "How could I not want you to like me?" His hand reaches out for yours, attempting to draw you closer, fueled by the substances coursing through his veins, providing him with the confidence to make such a move. Somehow, in the way you look at him, he senses a chance. He likes your patience, waiting for his answers. Everytime he was near you, he felt the constant knot in his chest, loosen.You are his best sedative, one he could live off if you'd allow it. "You are so sweet, so perfect," he whispers tenderly, gently fidgeting with your fingers, "too good for me." You squeeze his hands, looking down momentarily.Before overthinking, you lift your face to his, planting a soft yet lingering kiss on his cheek. Maintaining your closeness, you say, "I like you, Rafe." His heart leaps, locking eyes with yours, faces inches apart. On impulse, he moves in to kiss you, but you step back, declining his affection, causing a sinking feeling in his chest.

"Let's keep this for a sober moment...", he nods defeated but understandingly. "come by tomorrow?", he asks, desperation seeping through. Unexpectedly, you release a chuckle. It's like music to his ears, albeit a bit confusing. "Persistent, aren't you?", you comment with a playful glimmer in your eyes. You're taunting him, he realizes, causing a grin to appear on his face while he shakes his head. "I can be!" He warns you finally, trying to be serious. But you know better. With one last chuckle, you leave the office, leaving him behind once more,but this time with a whole other feeling oozing through his body.

___

Writer's note: And that guys, is where I put and end to it. For now at least. Is this even still a blurb at this point? Telling myself this is a blurb makes it just easier to start writing. Dont mind me casually manipulating myself for the sake of fanfiction. Anyway... I really hope you like it! And don't hesitate to interact with my content or to send me your thoughts or requests. I'm open! Lots of love, Rafebaby xxx

#drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe blurb #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine

[to-mah-to27]

Headcanon that Saiki Kusuo collects people with honest intentions.

This might be less of a headcanon and more of just a dissection of the series, but every time Saiki talks about people in general, it's always nihilistic and defeatist.

He doesn't like weddings because of hearing the guest's thoughts and how it directly opposes what they are saying.

He doesn't like Christmas because of how people are always thinking about themselves and what they want rather than about giving and being grateful, which is against the very spirit of the holiday.

Basically, people's thoughts show a darker and more egotistical side of humanity, and overexposure to this has added to the already mountainous problem of Saiki distancing himself from everyone and everything.

Almost every time a new character is introduced, Saiki treats them in this same way, expecting them to be secretly self-absorbed and immoral. But by the end of the short, they prove to be otherwise.

-That's- when Saiki goes all Tsundere and "well I guess I'd rather not owe him a favor or anything" and uses his powers to help them.

Saiki -does- hate Nendou. Until Nendou jumps in to stop him from getting mugged by two other students. Saiki knows he has been nothing but cold and dismissive to this guy, and yet while getting the shit kicked out of him for getting involved, all Nendou does and give him a thumbs up and tell him to run.

Saiki hates Kaidou, too. Sees him as another outcast trying to become friends with him on the principle that they are both alone. Until Kaidou actually jumps in front of the other student to save her from getting attacked by a snake. Kaidou is terrified, yes, and panics and thinks "Why did I do that?" but he still did it. He risked bodily harm and infection to save someone else and -that- is what heroes actually are.

Saiki doesn't necessarily hate Hairo, but he does admit they aren't the type of people who would get along. But then Hairo goes as far as to scrape his knee for Saiki, even if it was to keep him in a game he doesn't really want to play. He recognizes Hairo is someone who sticks to his morals, and he respects that.

Teruhashi took a bit longer, especially because at first she really was the type of person who says something the opposite of what they think. Their relationship is a little more complicated, I think and I've already talked about it before, but I do think that it was when she committed so hard to her appearance that she was willing to eat that "ramen" from the place Nendou showed them. Actions speak much louder than words, as Saiki as a character is a very good example of. At a certain point, is it really a facade if she is willing to go that far?

Basically, Saiki has a soft spot for people who are honest and true.

He can't force himself to really truly push them away like he could do if he really wanted to. Because that's so rare in the world to find a person like that, at least for him, and so it is very difficult to force them out of his life when he knows they are only trying to help.

At least that's how it starts.

I can do another post about the rest of the characters if y'all want

#haha another mountain of a post from tomahto yall know me #saiki k #kusuo saiki #nendou riki #shun kaidou #hairo kineshi #teruhashi kokomi #friendship

[smelliewilliams]

━━ ⋆ girl in new york

click the title for the song

pairing : ellie williams x reader

warnings : cheating 🧍🏻‍♀️, cursing, ass angst writing, ellie being an asshole, no comfort

cr : @s-hyia & @idontgetanysleep for dividers

a/n : had this on my drafts for few weeks now and because of this , i just had to ! i hope i did your justice lol :p

DONT BUY TLOU DAILY CLICK

WAYS YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE

“I’m gonna miss you” Ellie said as she’s holding her bags.

She then leaves you with a kiss on your cheek.

“Stay safe, Ellie” as you waved her off at your front door.

As Ellie starts her car and drives off the neighbourhood, you still standing at the door; watching the car until it’s not in your vision anymore.

You sighed as you closed the door, feeling weird that now you and Ellie had to be in a long-distance relationship, again.

But you had hopes that it would go well!

Ellie loves you and you love her.

That is all that matters, right?

Oh boy, you are so wrong about that.

A few months later, you noticed that Ellie had been acting differently lately, more distant and unavailable. At first, you thought it was nothing, that maybe Ellie was just busy with work or going through some personal issues.

But as the days went on her texts were different, her tone on calls shifted, and her replies getting later day by day.

Ellie would keep the conversation short and dry.

At this point, you might as well talk to your wall. There is no difference between the wall and Ellie, both are nonverbal. However, Ellie is good-looking, while the wall is just a wall.

You couldn't ignore the feeling that something was off. You didn't want to believe it, but the thought kept nagging at the back of your mind.

You wanted to make a surprise for Ellie by going to New York. What you didn’t know is that Ellie already has a surprise for you, too.

The rain was coming down in buckets, creating a symphony of sound as it hit the ground. The raindrops glittered in the light of the street lamps, casting a melancholic glow across the city.

You stood at the window of your bedroom, staring out into the night with a cup of tea in your hands holding for its warmth.

With a deep breath, you turned away from the window and placed your cup on the table before packing your bags. You carefully folded your clothes and gathered your toiletries, making sure you had everything you needed for your trip.

As you packed, your mind wandered to your upcoming surprise visit to Ellie in New York. You couldn't wait to see the look on your girlfriend's face when you showed up unannounced.

When you finished packing, you turned off the lights and made your way to bed. You close your eyes and let the sound of the rain soothe you to sleep, feeling content and secure in the knowledge that in the next few hours you're going to NYC and meeting up with your lovely girlfriend.

But that all changes from one drunk butt-dialled you got from Ellie.

Who the hell is she taking Ellie from you?

Well fuck this.

This is not how you expected her to react at all.

Ellie couldn't give you a proper kiss and hug.

So the call just confirms it all, she's cheating on you.

All the late reply, the changing tone while she's talking with you, and all the lame excuses she had given you for the late reply now make sense to you.

Ellie has never liked this, as busy as she is, she still takes time to reply to you.

Now she changed all because she likes another girl. Who she has known for 3 months and pushed away her 1-year and half relationship?

You stayed at your Airbnb for two days, collecting yourself back before you went and shattered again when you were going to confront Ellie the next day.

And that leads where the two of you now, screaming at each other.

You and Ellie had a tough conversation about her cheating, and it quickly escalated into a heated argument. You felt betrayed and heartbroken, and you let your emotions get the best of you and said things you didn't mean, and Ellie was equally as upset and defensive.

"Who the hell is she, huh?" you shouted at her.

You regretted coming here, why are you even here? To sit and watch Ellie look down?

"What does she have that I don't!" you broke down as you said that.

Ellie's heart broke for you but she is the one who made you like this, you are heartbroken caused of her and yet she feels bad about it?

Truth be told, Ellie doesn't know why she cheated on you. You're everything that she wanted, you're kind, beautiful inside and outside, loving, caring, smart and very funny too but why did she cheat on you?

Was it because of the distance between you two? A year ago you two were long-distance too so what changes now?

Was it because of the boredom? But you were there, constantly waiting for her to call and text you to tell you about her day.

Was it because how the girl in New York made her feel something she never felt before when she’s with you?

Was it because she felt the freedom and that makes her feel like she missing out with you?

Or was it because she just fucking stupid?

Ellie took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. "I don't know," she said softly.

This angers you, how could she not know?

Your breathing increases and your heartbeat beats so fast because of how much anger fills your body

"The least you could do is give me a fucking explanation! God! Ellie, I trusted you, you know!" you yelled out of frustration.

"You didn't even try to protect us? To fix this?!" you added.

Your hands brushed your hair as you looked away from her, you couldn't even look at her now. You can't stand to be in the same room as her. You can't stand the fact that all you can smell is her.

"I don't know if I could fix this, baby" says Ellie.

"Dont. Dont you dare call me baby after you cheated on me for three months"

"It's actually two months but whatever, I guess" Ellie said as her hand nervously played with her rings.

"So you're not gonna do something? Or at least say something to me?" your tears fell on your warm cheek.

You look so pretty like this, Ellie thought.

Your warm tears streaming down your cheek, how she wished she could kissed them away.

Your red nose and cheek because of the screaming and shouting just a moment ago.

“I wish she was worth it for you to cheat on me" and that was the last word you said to her before you slammed the door and left her cheap apartment.

You feel so stupid for hoping that Ellie could go out of her apartment and chase you, to hold you, to kiss you, to assure you, to apologise, to stop you from leaving her but that didn't happen.

Cause she let you leave after making you feel special.

REMINDER !!

that neil is a zionist and therefore dont buy his games, doesnt matter remastered or not !!!

before you leave, have you DONATE TO PALESTINE today? ITS FREE TOO !!

#── ellslvr writes ₊˚⊹ ✍🏻 #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fic #ellie williams the last of us #lesbian #wlw #sapphic

[amyispxnk]

My Kind of Woman

Chapter 1: Special.

Series Masterlist

Series summary - Your song captivates Joel the second he hears you that night in Jackson, but he struggles to work up the courage to confess his feelings. With some (very heavy) encouragement from Ellie and Tommy, you two get closer and closer until he finally thinks he’s ready.

Chapter summary - You and Joel finally sit down together after a year of stolen glances.

A/N: OH MY GOD IT’S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I’VE WRITTEN A FIC I MISSED IT SM. Let’s all collectively pray that I actually finish this series, btw. It kind of just came to me earlier today and I barely have anything planned but.. you know me by now.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: alcohol, light language, (kind of) fluff, nothing much really in this chapter

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“Come on man. We’ve been here for almost two years and you still haven’t made any friends. I see how you look at her- just say something! It is actual torture having to watch you dance around people like this.” Ellie groans dramatically, trying to kick some sense into the man who sits across from her. Joel just grunts, continuing to eat his stew as she looks blankly at him. “She’s nice enough.” She adds after a moment, trying to get him to say something.

After more silence, she speaks again with an exaggerated sigh, “I guess I’ll just go talk to her then, tell her that my old man has a big, fat crush on her. Maybe then you two can-” her smirk falters when Joel interrupts her.

“Don’t you dare go doin’ that,” he grumbles “Y’ gon’ make me look stupid-”

“So you talk to her then! Stop moping around all the time.” Ellie concludes, before standing up and saying goodbye, going to clear her tray and giving him a look before leaving the mess hall.

Joel watches her go before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. First, Tommy was on his ass about making some friends - “You’re scarin’ people, y’know. Givin’ everyone death stares when you walk around, being so.. withdrawn all the time. It’d do ya some good,” he’d told Joel one evening at the Tipsy Bison - and now Ellie was too. And, knowing Ellie, that kid wouldn’t be as patient, probably already concocting some sort of plan to force you and Joel together.

As he leans his head back and mulls over his options, he looks out the window. Of course you’re out there, playing with the kids of Jackson. You’re one of the most popular people in Jackson, always being friendly and knowing just about everyone.

..Except him, of course. You’ve had some small chats with him, but you never really see him. He sees you though, having been.. observing you for the past year, keeping his distance - being respectful, in his eyes, being a wuss, in Ellie’s - and he knows enough about you to know that he probably has no chance with you.

You’re funny, sweet, fucking stunning, and he’s seen multiple guys try to approach you at the bar. Younger, more attractive guys. Mainly, you help teach kids things like art and music at the Jackson school, and you also do patrols a few times a week. On some nights you also sing at the Tipsy Bison when there are events and dances. The band will play, often with you as the lead singer. He always makes sure he’s there when you are.

The first time he saw you was on one of his very first nights in the Tipsy Bison. Tommy had dragged him along, Ellie going too, with promise of a fun night.

He came mainly to keep an eye on Ellie and to get some alcohol in his system, not expecting anything ‘fun’ to happen. Boy, was he wrong.

It had been around half an hour of him nursing his whiskey in the corner of the room when you came onto stage, million-dollar smile on your face as you spoke into the microphone.

“Good evening, Jackson!” You began, already getting a loud cheer from the crowd of people there that night. “It’s great to be singin’ for you again, you know I missed ya! Now, tonight, we got a few songs lined up, but this first one is a special request from Mister Tommy Miller over there!” You had said, pointing over to Tommy who was sitting with Joel, the younger brother grinning widely at you.

The band started and you began to sing one of Joel’s favourite songs from before the outbreak - somehow, it sounded even better in your voice. Joel glared at Tommy when he realised what he had done, and Tommy just shrugged before looking back at you. He couldn’t stay mad at him though, because by the end of it he was entranced by the sweet melody of your voice and how gorgeous you looked singing your heart out under the lights.

You were beaming at the audience after finishing as they showered you with applause, though it took Joel a second to actually start clapping and stop staring at you.

He tried denying it, but, as cheesy as it sounds, it was love at first sight for him.

It scared him, definitely. It had barely been a year since he lost Tess, and although he wouldn’t go as far as saying they were in love, it was the closest thing he’d had to it in decades. To think he even liked you from just hearing you sing one song.. that fucking terrified him.

Which is why he kept his distance for so long. He didn’t know what to do with himself when he realised he actually liked you. He hadn’t had any sort of connection other than Ellie and Tommy in so long, and they were his family. You, though.. you were so different.

He sighed deeply before opening his eyes again, finishing his meal as he watched you smile and laugh in the snow through the window.

A week later, Tommy manages to convince Joel to come to the Tipsy Bison again, promising ‘no funny business’ to go on. Joel isn’t sure he’d really mind.

Time goes by quietly, a simple Monday afternoon not having much going on for them, but then you turn up. He sees you as soon as you walk through the doors, an unfamiliar tiredness in your eyes. It looks like you’ve been on a long patrol.

You look around before noticing Tommy and Joel, walking over with a small smile.

Joel stares daggers at Tommy. “You said no funny business,” he grits, a strange panic flooding his system. Did he brush his hair this morning? Do his clothes look tidy? Did he have anything in his teeth?

“Ain’t no funny business here, brother.” Tommy grins at him, not giving him a chance to reply as you get to their table.

“Hi Tommy!” You smile, hugging him before turning to Joel. “And Joel! It’s so great to see you!”

Joel blinks at you. Fuck, you’re talking to him. He needs to say something back.

“Yeah, you too.” He mumbles, clearing his throat awkwardly.

If you pick up on his discomfort, you don’t mention it, looking around before continuing.

“Are y’all stayin’?” You ask, now leaning forward a little with your palms on the table.

“As far as I’m concerned.” Tommy replies, to which you nod. “Y’ wouldn’t mind if I sit with ya, then?” You ask.

“Not at all, darlin’.” He says, and you slide into the booth with them, starting up a conversation about what you did today, mentioning that draining patrol you just got back from.

“I’m tellin’ ya - morning patrols are like hell on earth, Tommy. ‘S not fair to be makin’ us go out at 6 am.” You groan, to which he smiles. “Nothin’ a little coffee can’t fix.” Tommy replies, which makes you perk up.

“You have coffee? Since when?” You gasp, wide-eyed at him.

“New trade opened, and since Joel here is such an addict, we got our hands on some.” He gestures to Joel, and you look over at him, a smile creeping onto your face.

“I see.. being Tommy’s brother has its perks then? Got you hoarding all the coffee for yourself?” You tease, to which Joel chuckles quietly at, sitting up a little taller.

“Not hoardin’. Nobody else has asked for any.” He tells you, looking into your eyes and trying not to get lost in them for too long.

“And if I wanted some?” You say, tilting your head sideways slightly as it rests on your palm.

“Y’ always welcome to come get some, sweetheart.” He isn’t sure what possessed him to use the pet name with you, but he’s very thankful for it as a soft crimson paints your cheeks and you bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot. “Well, thank you.” You reply, before a man comes over to get you your drink. “Whiskey, neat please.” You tell him and he goes off to get it. Joel is pleasantly surprised by your choice. He never really thought about what you might order from the bar, but the fact that you shared the same drink of choice made you even more attractive in his eyes.

2 hours later, Tommy had gone off to handle an issue with the council and you and Joel had been talking and drinking and laughing. It’s around 3 now and he barely realises in time for his afternoon patrol, finishing off his whiskey before telling you, noticing the slight sadness that appears on your face at him having to go.

“Oh! Alright then. I’ll see you around. Have a good patrol, Joel.” You smile at him, and he offers you a small smile back.

“See ya ‘round.” He says before leaving and going back to the stables.

Later that evening, Ellie somehow figures out what went down earlier at the bar (Joel’s already planning on giving Tommy a talking to tomorrow) and makes fun of him endlessly for it, saying that he was apparently so shy when he was talking with you.

“I’d have never thought that someone could make the big, bad Joel all nervous and flustered, but she just continues to prove me wrong. She’s definitely special, huh.” Ellie grins, before bidding Joel goodnight and leaving him with his thoughts.

He hated to admit it, but Ellie was right in saying that. You were special.

Tysm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! 💞

Next Chapter

#amyispxnk fics #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller imagine #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller fluff #joel tlou #joel miller one shot #joel x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #tlou #tlou2 #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us smut

[mouschiwrites]

Creepypasta/MH - Breaking Up With Them

Characters: Nina the Killer, Jane the Killer, Clockwork, Jeff the Killer, Eyeless Jack, Tim/Masky

Nina the Killer

She approaches you one day, eyes puffy and red from crying

She breaks the news that she wants to separate pretty bluntly

“Y/n. I want to break up.”

She has to be quick because the second she opens her mouth, the tears are going to start again

She’ll be apologizing, telling you that you’re really awesome and attractive, you’re just not the one for her

If you let her she’ll hug you, burying her face in your shoulder

Your shirt will get stained with makeup

After a while she’ll pull away, sniffling, and ask if you hate her

If/when you say no, she just nods solemnly and hugs you again

When she’s finally ready to stop hugging you, she’ll offer to help you gather your things

If you forget anything she won’t have a problem texting you about it, or even bringing it to you herself

She’ll probably still want to be friends, but distant ones

Like, you’ll keep tabs on each other every now and again, and you’ll be friendly when you see each other, but you’re not exactly besties

She keeps the gifts you’ve given to her, as well as the Polaroid photos you’ve taken together

Even when she’s over you, she likes to look back and remember the good times you had together

Jane the Killer

Sends a “we need to talk” text first

She’ll tell you to meet her somewhere private and secluded

When you get there her face is creased with pain, but she’s firm and steady as she explains why she wanted to meet up

She stands a good distance away while she speaks

Her arms are crossed, but eventually it becomes obvious that she’s trying to hold herself as comfort

Tears may come to her eyes, but they won’t fall

If you take it well, she’ll approach and hold out her hand for a handshake

But as you get close, she’ll change her mind on a whim and yank you into a rough hug that’s over before you even realize it happened

Then, with a single sharp sniffle, she’ll wish you the best and walk away

“Have a good life, Y/n.”

She won’t contact you again

If you see her after, she’s going to avoid you at all costs

It’s just too awkward and painful for her

She probably purges everything you gave her in a fit of rage at some point

Everything but something super small, like a bracelet or something

She keeps it locked away, out of sight, out of mind (mostly)

Occasionally she’ll find it and stare for a while, reflecting on your relationship

Then she’ll shove it away again and try to forget she saw it

Clockwork

She’ll try to find you alone

Somewhere quiet where you can talk and think in privacy

She might startle you a bit by jumping straight in

She doesn’t even announce her presence first

“We should break up.”

Her expression looks relaxed to the untrained eye, but you see how tired she is

She’ll try to have a civil conversation, making plans with you to execute your separation

She wants to make the process as smooth as possible, which means no emotions allowed

She saves those for your last goodbye

While she’ll be totally cold and serious throughout the whole breakup, she’ll cry when you see each other for the last time

She’ll hug you tight and tell you how much she loved you

Then she’ll wish you the best, and tell you that if you need anything you can text her

Honestly she hopes you won’t

It’s really hard for her to restrain her emotions around you, but she forces herself to do exactly that

That’s why she won’t want to see you much anymore

She puts everything that reminds her of you in a box, but she can’t make herself get rid of it

It sits in her attic, collecting dust, just like her suppressed emotions towards you

Jeff the Killer

I see him as the type to break up mid-argument

Like, in the heat of the moment, he just shouts:

“That’s it! We’re over!”

Even if it’s was small, if breaking up is something he’s been thinking about, he’ll use the argument as an excuse to do it

He won’t elaborate much; he doesn’t want to expose himself like that

After the argument, he’s really cold, but not particularly aggressive

Like, he’ll help you pack your things calmly, but he’s not going to comfort you in any way

When you actually leave he walks you to the door and just says “bye” before closing it

He immediately blocks you on all platforms

Yet he’s too “lazy” to delete all the pictures of you off his phone, or to get rid of the gifts you’ve given to him

Sometimes he finds himself staring longingly at them, wondering if he made the right choice

His finger has hovered over the “unblock” button several times

Yet if someone brings you up in conversation, he scoffs and turns his head distastefully

Might even talk a little trash about you

(He’s still trying to convince himself that breaking up was a good decision)

If he sees you though…

He’s frozen, staring at you, more doubtful of himself than ever

Eventually he just looks away, too stubborn to address his feelings

It takes him a very long time, but he finally realizes that he ultimately made the right choice

Eyeless Jack

He’s mortified when he realizes he wants to split up

He feels so bad; he doesn’t want to hurt you

Doesn’t have the courage (or emotional energy tbh) to confront you face to face

So he leaves a letter

It’s multiple pages and very gentle and emotional

He makes it clear how he feels about you, restating multiple times how delightful you are, but that you’re just not for him

He’s probably already packed your things, but he tells you to grab anything else you want

He’ll disappear for several days, letting you sort yourself out

He’ll answer if you text though

It might take him a moment if it’s an emotional text, but he’ll just reiterate what he said in the letter

To be fair, it was a very thorough letter that he wrote with the intention of you having no such questions

But if it’s something practical, like “where is my toothbrush” or something, he’ll respond really quickly

That’s pretty much how it is afterwards

He’ll answer your texts if you need something, but he’s not looking to keep emotional ties

He might keep a few things to remind him of you, but he’ll get rid of most of them

Like Nina, he wants to remember the good times

He’ll probably be alone for a long time after, so the memories you gave him are ones he’ll treasure forever, even though he doesn’t love you anymore

Tim/Masky

Does it over text

He just can’t bring himself to face you

But he doesn’t want to leave a letter either; he wants you to be able to respond

He’ll be very blunt and to the point, but he’ll be dodgy when answering your questions

He doesn’t want to be vulnerable like that

The only things he will expose are that he did love you and that he thinks you’re a good person

He’ll only say it once though

After that he’s focused on planning

If/when you meet up to collect your things, he doesn’t say much

Honestly he just acts weirdly normal

Like, he’ll help you pack it up and carry it out

Then, before you leave, he says (astonishingly casually, as if you weren’t in the middle of a breakup):

“That everything? Yeah? Okay. Bye, Y/n.”

He’s acting like you had a healthy breakup when you really didn’t

It’s because he’s already bottled everything up

Maybe it’ll spill when the going gets rough, but he’s not going to touch it if he can help it

He’s already shoved your memorabilia in a box that he keeps in his basement, and he’s not planning on opening it

Yet its presence burns in his mind from time to time, driving him to push his emotions down even further

Sorry if I broke your wee hearts my loves :( but thanks for reading!! Take care of yourselves <3

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #marble hornets #nina the killer #nina the killer x reader #jane the killer #jane the killer x reader #clockwork #clockwork x reader #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #tim wright #tim wright x reader #masky x reader

[kwanisms]

The Library of Illusion — Shelter from the Storm

«« previous | masterlist | next »»

➮ alien!Yunho × fem!Reader wc: 7.4k summary: Upon entering the first section, Y/N soon finds herself stumbling into an otherworldly jungle on an alien planet on the verge of a massive storm. Just as she's about to lose hope, one of the planet's inhabitants, a humanoid creature called Yunho rescues her and brings her back to his hut deep in the jungle. genre/themes/au: slight angst, smut, slight fluff; fantasy, science fiction; non idol au, alien!Yunho warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alien!Yunho, slight body horror, graphic sexual content (18+ mdni), smut warnings under the cut!

permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @wonderfulshinee @candidupped @dejavernon @violagoth @tigermoonbiss @katsukis1wife @luvsooby @thesolarplanetarysystem

ateez taglist: @2hodefender @cixrosie @pyeonghongrie-main @flowerboykun @sanjoongie @anyamaris @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21 @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @mlysalt @cinnamoon-belle @briannabk22 @is4b3ll3s @hyukssunflower @vampiirose

special tags: @thelargefrye join my taglists! MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.

a/n: when we first started planning this and assigning genres to each member, I knew I wanted Yunho to be science fiction because I wanted to write him as an alien lol I hope you all like this as much as I do and enjoy it! Thank you for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. Adult content divider made by me from a template by @cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, continuations, or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

smut tags: unprotected sex (don't do this, especially with an alien lol), oral (f receiving), dom!Yunho, alien genitalia, breeding kink, knotting, tentacles, unrealistic sex (obviously lol he's an alien but also penetrated cervix. Do not attempt to do this, for the love of everything, i cannot believe i need to add this warning). I think I got everything but of course, let me know if I missed anything!

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

You stared at Seonghwa with one eyebrow raised.

“The Keeper of Keys?” you asked, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

“What does that even mean?”

A smile spread across Seonghwa’s face.

“Just that. I keep the keys to each section. The ones that allow you into the restricted section however were taken,” he explained.

“They are being held in each section by a guardian.”

Your brain tried to keep up as he explained. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you said shaking your head.

“You mean to tell me you’re the keeper of the keys but some of the keys were stolen from you?”

Seonghwa nodded. “Precisely.”

You tried to fight the smirk that threatened to form on your face.

“Not a very good keeper, are you?”

Seonghwa’s smile dropped quickly, eyes narrowing. In a flash, he’d closed the distance between you, face inches from yours.

Fear erupted in the pit of your stomach. “I could easily kill you,” he whispered, his words sending a chill up your spine. Every ounce of humor left your body and you stood with rapt attention, waiting for him to continue.

“As I was saying,” he said, pulling back and starting to pace slowly around you.

“Six keys were taken, given to the guardians of each section of the library. I was tasked with keeping the keys safe. Making sure they don’t fall into the hands of those who aren’t worthy of the treasure.”

You watched Seonghwa pace around you carefully. “If they are in these sections, then isn’t that better than having them all together?” you asked. Seonghwa stopped in his tracks and looked up to meet your curious gaze.

“No,” he answered. “The safest place for the keys is with me.”

You nodded, dropping the subject immediately.

“If you want to get into the Restricted Section, where the treasure is, you have to collect these keys,” Seonghwa continued. “That is the only way to enter.”

You inhaled slowly. “There really is no other way?” You asked, your stomach dropping when Seonghwa shook his head. “No. There is not.”

You looked at each door, noticing the signs above them lit up in different colors.

“Then I guess I only have one choice if I want to get out of this place,” you answered, drawing Seonghwa’s attention.

“You’ll do it?” He asked, perking up immediately. You nodded.

“If the only way to leave the Library is through the Restricted Section, I don’t have much of a choice,” you replied. “Do I?”

Seonghwa shook his head slowly.

“The Restricted Section is the only way out.”

You nodded, determination filling your body.

“Then I’ll do it.”

Seonghwa looked relieved as he thanked you. “Which section would you like to visit first?” he asked. You glanced around. “Any section?” you asked to which he nodded. “Any section,” he confirmed. Your eyes landed on the neon green sign that read ‘science fiction’ and pointed. “That one.”

Seonghwa led the way over, pulling out a key ring to unlock the door to the section with you in tow. He pulled the door open and you both peered down the long shelf lined corridor that faded to black.

“So, what am I to expect in these sections?” You asked as you looked from the black void to Seonghwa. “Expect anything. There will be a guardian that has the key,” he replied. “It could be anything. Man, creature, machine,” he answered.

“So, do I just need to defeat the monster and claim the reward?” You asked jokingly. Seonghwa didn’t answer, prompting you to glance up to meet his gaze. “Something like that,” he answered. “These guardians are… tricky.”

Your brow furrowed. “Tricky? Tricky how?”

Seonghwa shook his head. “They’re smart. Cunning. Adaptable. They might try to seduce you, make deals with you, or worse. You must outsmart them, take the key for yourself and come back. Only with the key in hand will you be able to return to this Lobby.”

You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Okay,” you replied.

You took a step into the doorway, turning to look back and Seonghwa. “Wait. Can I die here or is there, like, a respawn option?” Seonghwa chuckled darkly.

“Try not to die,” he answered, making your smile fall.

“Thanks. That was really comforting.”

As you continued further into the hall, Seonghwa whispered from behind you.

“Good luck.”

You turned to look back but the door shut with a click. “Prick,” you whispered before turning back to face the void before you.

“One foot at a time, Y/N,” you told yourself before continuing forward.

The shelves extended the length of the hall, disappearing into the darkness. You stopped, opening your pack and pulling out a flashlight you packed. It clicked on with relative ease but did nothing to provide you with more visibility.

You clicked your tongue in annoyance as you started forward once more, looking around the old dusty and decrepit shelves at the stacks of yellowed pages and ruined books.

Before long, you caught sight of something that looked out of place.

A plant. Bluish green leaves extended from stems growing out of the cracks in the wooden floor. Your eyes looked over the giant leaf, fingers reaching out to touch before you froze, remembering where you were.

“Probably not the best idea,” you murmured to yourself, getting up and continuing down the corridor.

As you walked, more plants started to appear in your vision. Some the same as the plant before and some with huge blossoms that looked unlike anything you’d ever seen. Vines started to cover the shelves the deeper into the hallway you walked until you no longer saw shelves and only…

“Is that rock?” You whispered, more to yourself as you reached out, placing your hand against the cool, damp stone. “What the hell?”

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud crack in the distance, the ground rumbling under your feet.

Pulling your hand back you continued forward, hoping there wasn’t a cave in. As you walked, bits of light started to shine in between what you assumed were cracks in the stone. ‘What the hell is going on?’

You reached the end of the tunnel and saw your path was blocked by dense foliage. The same vines as before, green with bioluminescent blue wound their way through each other, creating a thick wall of vegetation. You started to pull at the ropes, some as thick as pythons until you were able to create an opening.

You wormed and wiggled your way through the vines until you found yourself outside the cave, blinded by the sudden light.

Blinking heavily, you looked around, taking in the jungle around you.

“What?” You whispered. “How did I end up back in the jungle?”

You spun on the spot, looking around desperately for the sandstone building but only saw the cave you’d come from. There was nothing but vegetation, brush, and trees as far as you could see. Had you taken a wrong turn somewhere?

No, that was impossible. You’d only gone straight. There were no turns.

Maybe you missed a turn then?

No, there were no openings in the shelves. You could remember seeing between the shelves but there were no breaks between them. Just one long aisle that turned into a tunnel and somehow led outside the Library.

“Fuck,” you cursed as you looked around again.

‘I couldn’t have gone far,’ you thought as you turned back in the direction of the cave. “I guess I’ll just backtrack out here and find my way back in,” you said aloud.

Before you could take a step, thunder rumbled in the distance, shaking the ground with its intensity. You took a few steps to the side to look around the cave but saw only more trees. Sunlight was coming from that direction.

Deciding it would be best to just backtrack, you did just that, setting off in the direction you came from, bypassing the cave and walking alongside the stone, covered in moss, vines, and various plants.

As you walked, you noticed something was different about the jungle.

The colors were different.

Instead of the various shades of greens and browns of the jungle from before, the colors were brighter, more vibrant. Purples, reds, greens, blues, and more made up the color palette of this jungle. Plants you’d never seen, even in movies, surrounded you. Even the trees were different.

The tan wood sprung up from the ground in various places, weaving together to create a unique look. Gaps in the trees allowed you to see part of the way to the other side and no doubt provided hiding places for all manner of critters.

Another clap of thunder sounded, this time a bit closer. You decided to keep moving and made your way through the dense jungle foliage, taking note of any landmarks you saw in case this plan didn’t pan out.

You stopped briefly to take a sip of water, the humid jungle heat making you break a sweat. You continued forward, traversing over various plants and other things like rock and bits of branches from the trees until you noticed a break in the trees.

‘Finally,’ you said to yourself as you picked up the pace and hurried forward, breaking through the foliage and almost toppling over a cliff. Letting out a small scream, you grabbed one of the closest trunks and managed to keep your balance, looking down what you estimated was over a fifty foot drop to the forest below.

You looked around, surveying the jungle tree tops. There was no mistaking it. This was not the same jungle as before.

“Where the hell am I?” you wondered as you looked into the distance.

A huge mountain range you’d never seen, jagged peaks capped with snow, a large river that wound through the jungle and was fed by a massive waterfall from a bluff some miles away from you.

Beyond the jungle was the setting sun… wait no. Suns.

There were two. You blinked rapidly before rubbing your eyes and looking back. There was no mistaking it. There were two suns in the sky, both slowly dipping below the tree line. It was then you noticed the clouds.

Above the sunset, thick grayish green clouds had accumulated, looking equal parts dangerous and mesmerizing. Your eyes scanned the sky, the wind picking up and the temperature dropping. Another crack of thunder, rumbling in the distance and a flash of white across the clouds had you jumping back.

“That doesn’t look good,” you admitted. Taking a couple steps back, you watched as the clouds advanced menacingly.

“Ookay,” you said softly. “Time to go!”

You turned in the opposite direction and started to make your way back to the cave but the jungle was dense, the plants all looked the same, and you didn’t remember seeing any landmarks to identify and soon, you were completely lost.

Your head turned in each direction, looking for something familiar as daylight started to fade away, bringing with it minor darkness.

You picked a direction and started walking, hoping you were going the right way.

As you continued, the jungle seemed to come to life around you.

The bioluminescence you’d witnessed in the cave was outside it as well. Plants with specks of light started to light up and even small insects, also glowing, emerged from their hiding places. You stopped, staring in awe at all of it.

The small insects flew around you lazily before taking off in search of food.

Letting out a small laugh you continued on, trying to tread as carefully as you could.

As you went, there was a creaking above you, causing you to stop and look towards the canopy. You could have sworn you caught sight of something dark moving in the treetops but it was too fast. Too blurry.

You pushed it from your mind and continued on, pushing giant leaves aside as you moved through the dense vegetation. The sound of running water met your ears. It wasn’t fast but it might replenish your drinking supply.

Walking forward, you nearly tripped over something large and smooth. It looked like a log but it wasn’t the right color. Carefully, you poked at it, letting out a yelp as it wiggled and moved. Following the length, you were met with the head of a giant serpent peeking at you from the ground.

You didn’t stop to see if it was friendly, instead taking off with a shrill scream as you ran. The snake didn’t seem interested in fast moving prey as it didn’t give chase. When you were sure it was safe, you slowed to catch your breath, wiping your forehead and turning to find yourself at the edge of a small creek.

Walking over, you knelt down and inspected the crystal clear water. You were thankful as you carefully dipped your hand into it, sighing at the cool temperature. You raised your cupped hand to sniff the water but smelled nothing. Tentatively, you took a sip. It tasted no different than the water in your canteen.

You quickly pulled your bottle from your bag and twisted the cap off, lowering the canister to fill it with the cool water before replacing the cap and putting it back in your bag. You were placing your pack on your back when you heard a loud snap and quickly looked over your shoulder.

You scanned the jungle but saw nothing. Slowly, you stood up and continued to glance around until you were sure nothing was around. “Weird,” you breathed, noticing how the tension in the air had changed. The previous sounds of the jungle had ceased. All bugs and whatever other animals had stopped.

That only happened when a predator was in the area.

Just as you were about to start off, the brush in front of you rustled. Your eyes widened, breath catching in your chest until a small creature popped out.

It looked almost like a type of squirrel. It had long tufts of fur at the end of its ears, large and powerful back legs like a rabbit and the long bushy tail of a skunk. Its’ fur was a purplish red with a white belly and black fur around its eyes.

“Aww,” you said softly, kneeling down to get a better look. “Hi there cutie.”

The creature looked up at you, sniffing the air for a moment before it made a squeaking sound and disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Just as you were about to comment how weird that was, a loud crash sounded behind you, followed by an earth-shattering roar.

You didn’t have a chance to look back before a force hit you, something grabbing you by the backpack and dragging you across the creek, drenching your clothes before dropping you.

Raising your head, you caught sight of something large and covered in vegetation padding ahead of you. Pushing yourself up you saw the creature was massive. It looked almost like a bear. It turned to face you, giving you a good look at its alien face. Bears had two eyes. Not… six?!

You let out a scream as it stood on his back legs, rearing and showing it’s stomach and brandishing four other muscular arms tipped with flesh ripping claws.

The bear-like creature roared again but before it could lunge, something dropped from the trees above and began wrestling it. You could hear growling, grunting, and a scream of pain before the animal let out a gut wrenching cry as whatever had jumped on it gained the upper hand, stabbing it with what appeared to be a spear.

You watching in terror, chest heaving with labored breathing as the creature that came out on top stood up and slowly made its way over to you.

You gasped as you realized it wasn’t some creature.

It was a man.

You were staring up into the face of a man who was looking down at you curiously.

He closed the distance, kneeling down by your side as he inspected your face.

He opened his mouth and spoke but you couldn’t make out what he was saying. It didn’t sound like any language you’d heard before.

“What?” You whispered. He spoke again in that same foreign language.

“I’m sorry,” you said shaking your head. “But I don’t understand you.”

The man tilted his head, eyes studying you and allowing you to get a good look at them. They were a bluish green with black vertical pupils. ‘Maybe he isn’t human after all,’ you wondered as he leaned in closer, reaching a hand up. You shrank away, eyes shutting before you felt his fingertips gently brush against your forehead.

Opening your eyes, you saw him pull his hand back and inspect it.

It was then you noticed your blood was on his fingers. You were bleeding.

You reached up to feel your head, cursing when you felt the warm liquid trickling down the side of your face from a gash on your forehead, near your hairline.

“Shit,” you hissed, bringing your hand down to look at the blood.

“Shit.”

You looked up quickly, meeting the man’s gaze. “What did you just say?” you asked, watching him as he continued to stare at you. “Shit,” he repeated.

You stared in a mixture of shock and amusement. “You speak english?” you asked incredulously.

The man nodded. “I speak some,” he answered. You sighed in relief. “Oh thank goodness,” you replied. The man looked past you, brows furrowing. “We have to go,” he said suddenly, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet.

You stumbled and fell into him, his large hands catching you and steading you.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly. You nodded, looking at him. “Yes.”

The man nodded, pulling you along. “We must go. It is not safe!”

You tried to keep up, stumbling along as he dragged you behind him. “Hurry!”

Behind you, the sound of rain hitting the ground and the leaves as the sky opened up, the rain coming down in sheets while thunder cracked and lightning flashed overhead. The darkness had caught up and the sun was almost completely behind the horizon.

“Come!” The man said, continuing to urge you behind him. “Where are we going?” You called as the sound of the rain and wind picked up, turning into a howling.

“No time to explain! Just run!”

You did as he instructed, running behind him as the rain continued to follow you, the wind whipping and blowing the drops sideways. The trees creaked, swaying against the wind as leaves from the canopy fell to the ground.

The rain had finally caught up to you, the drops pelting your skin and the wind nearly blowing you over, stinging your cold skin. A loud crack overhead caused you to glance up but the man grabbed your hand again and pulled you forward just as a branch fell to the ground from the canopy.

“Do not stop!” He shouted. “Do not look! Just run!”

You kept going, following him as you trudged deeper and deeper into the jungle. Soon you noticed the trees spreading out as you ran, a wall of stone greeted you but the man stopped and motioned for you to follow him.

You hurried forward, squeezing between a gap in the rock which turned out to be some sort of pass. The man urged you to keep going until you came out on the other side where the trees were much thinner. “Over here!”

You ran and ran, your thighs burning as you tried to scramble over the terrain, your boots digging into the mud. Your lungs burned from lack of air and just when you thought you were about to collapse, a light came up in the distance.

As you neared the light, you realized it was a lantern, hanging on a pole outside a hut. The man hurried up to the door, opening it and allowing you inside, shutting the door and bracing it. You doubled over, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. “Holy shit,” you wheezed as the man moved to check the windows.

“Who are you?” You asked as he lifted one of the hatches to look outside.

He turned his head to meet your gaze, face illuminated by the dim light of a lantern nearby. “Yunho,” he answered. “My name is Yunho.”

You watched as he moved around to the various window hatches, making sure to secure all of them. He stopped, glancing over at you, mid action. “What is your name?” he asked. “Oh,” you stammered. “I’m Y/N.” Yunho gave you a quick smile before resuming his motions.

“So,” you said nervously. “Is this a normal storm, Yunho?”

Yunho nodded as he finished securing a hatch while you looked around anxiously as the sound of rain pelted the roof of his home, thunder rumbling close by.

You glanced around but couldn’t see much. “It’s dark in here,” you noted, making Yunho glance up. “Oh,” he said softly, moving to the center of the room where a lantern hung. He reached up with his spear, unhooking the lantern and turned a small dial on the side, light illuminating the room before he hung it back up.

“Is that better?” He asked, turning to look at you.

You nodded with a small smile before shivering. Yunho clicked his tongue and hurried into a doorway leading into another room. He was gone only for a few moments, the sound of him rummaging around before he returned.

“Here,” he said softly, handing you some material. “It’s not much,” he added.

You opened it up and looked over the fabric. It was some sort of tunic. You thanked him and started removing your boots before you looked around.

“Uh… where can I change?”

He glanced at you, having already removed his own top.

“Change?” He asked, sounding confused.

You held up the tunic. “Yeah? Where can I change my clothes?”

Yunho didn’t seem to understand the concept. “You can undress here,” he replied. Your cheeks turned red, burning as he continued to undress. You gasped, drawing his attention. He stared at you wide eyed.

“Your shoulder,” you said softly, noticing the blood which was not the color you expected it to be. He looked like a human but the blue staining his skin said otherwise. You walked over, reaching up to inspect the wound.

“We should clean this,” you said, looking around for some sort of first aid kit. Yunho seemed to sense what you were looking for and nodded towards a shelf on the back wall near the door into what you assumed was a bedroom.

You walked over and grabbed a basket that held a few jars and some rolls of cloth.

“This?” You asked, showing him. Yunho nodded and moved to sit on a stool near a large square table. You used a damp rag to carefully wipe the blood from his wound which you could now see was a bite mark.

“It bit you?” You asked, to which he nodded silently.

“Does it hurt?” You asked softly as you continued to wipe the area. Yunho shook his head. “Not anymore,” he answered. You hummed as you worked, tossing the soiled rag in the basket.

“I’ll wash that later,” you murmured before starting to look through the jars in the basket, trying to discern which was antiseptic. Yunho smiled before he pointed the correct one out. “Use that one,” he said, his voice soft and gentle.

You unscrewed the lid and brought the jar up to sniff. It smelled strong and almost like pure alcohol. You coughed and Yunho glanced up, concern forming on his features until you waved his concern away. “I’m okay. It’s got a really strong smell.”

Yunho waited patiently as you cautiously dipped a finger in the jar and started to smear the ointment over the wound to his shoulder. You glanced up, studying his face as you coated a generous amount of the goo on his skin, making sure to be as gentle as possible.

His skin was smooth and warm, much like a human, but there was no mistaking he wasn’t human. His hands, which were large, had sharp pointed nails which were also present on his toes and he didn’t seem to wear shoes.

It was probably because of his clawed feet. His physique was largely humanoid. He was just large. Tall, broad shoulders, large hands and feet, and muscular. He had short black hair that fell over his forehead. It seemed like a generic cut like the men you saw back home.

His eyes were bluish green with vertical slits. The irises were a little bigger than a humans and you imagined it helped him see in low light settings like the jungle and at night. You suddenly wondered if maybe he was nocturnal or crepuscular.

You thought it might be rude to ask though, so you said nothing. Yunho glanced up, eyes meeting yours. “Are you alright?” He asked, his voice calm and gentle, unlike the erratic beating of your heart.

You weren’t sure how you didn’t spot it before. His teeth were sharp and pointed. His canines and the teeth next to them were like fangs while the rest were more like a human’s. ‘He must be a carnivore,’ you thought to yourself.

“Are you alright?” You heard him ask again and nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. The last thing you wanted to do was make him worry or concerned. ‘Just focus on what you’re doing,’ you told yourself. ‘Stop thinking.’

Once you were sure you covered the wound, you wiped your fingers on the bloodstained rag before grabbing a clean piece of cloth and started to cover the wound. “I’ve never done this before,” you admitted as you tried your best to wrap his wound.

“I can tell,” Yunho said, a small smirk present on his face.

“Do it like this,” he added, showing you where to wrap the cloth.

With his guidance, you were able to wrap and cover the wound while also keeping the dressing tight. “That was not so hard,” Yunho said with a smile as he got up, gathered the supplies and returned the basket to the shelf.

“Your clothes are still wet,” he added, noticing you still hadn’t changed. “You must be cold.” You nodded, grimacing as you moved to grab the tunic he’d given you.

You turned away and carefully started to unbutton your blouse. You pushed the wet garment off, letting it fall to the floor before doing the same with your shorts.

You glanced back at Yunho who still hadn’t put on a shirt and was now busying himself with building a fire. You quickly turned back around, heat rising to your cheeks. ‘Why are you checking him out?’ You scolded yourself.

You glanced back once more, eyes moving over his form as a fire started to dance in the hearth. The light flickered, shadows dancing over his skin and allowing you to see in a different light how his skin was much different than you thought.

While he had a honeyed tone to skin, there was a shimmer to it that was really illuminated as the light of the fire hit his skin. Beautiful was the only word you could use to describe it.

Yunho turned his head, looking mildly shocked as his eyes met yours.

“What?” He asked, curiously. You shook your head. “Nothing,” you murmured.

Yunho slowly stood up. “You said something,” he answered, matter of factly. You shook your head again. “No I didn't,” you replied. He nodded as he stepped closer. “You said the word beautiful. It was soft,” he retorted. “But I still heard it.”

Your heart hammered in your chest. ‘You idiot. Why did you say that aloud?’

You turned back around, facing away from him. “I-I’m going to finish getting changed,” you announced before carefully peeling your wet undergarments off and letting them fall to the floor with your wet clothes.

You heard the floor creak as Yunho moved to pick your clothes up.

“I will hang these by the fire,” he said softly and you heard the floorboards creak as he returned to the fire’s side. You exhaled softly and looked down at the tunic in your hands. “Calm down,” you whispered to yourself.

‘You’re supposed to be finding the key!’

You raised your head and noticed something hanging by the door. It was a large skeleton key with an intricate handle. Wait, was that… the key?

‘Speak of the devil,’ you mused silently.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud clap of thunder. You looked over your shoulder to see Yunho at one of the windows, peering through the hatch.

“It's still not safe out there,” he said as he closed the window hatch again, making sure it was properly secured. He turned and caught you staring again.

“You still haven’t put that on,” he said, nodding at the tunic. Your cheeks flushed and you turned away. ‘Why hadn’t you put it on yet? What was wrong with you?’

The floorboards creaked softly behind you as Yunho slowly approached you.

You jumped slightly, turning to look up at the alien creature behind you. This close, you could smell the scent emanating from him. The tips of his fingers danced across your back, eyes taking in the blemishes that adorned your skin.

“Your flesh is peculiar,” he said softly, continuing to inspect you.

Keeping your chest covered, your cheeks burned with embarrassment. Maybe the fact he kept his eyes trained on you was why you felt compelled to not move and uncover the front of your body, hugging the tunic close.

“Could you maybe stop watching me?”

Yunho tilted his head curiously. “Why do you wish to not be seen?”

You glanced around the room like you couldn't believe what you were hearing. “Because I'm naked?”

That didn't seem to phase Yunho.

“Why is your skin changing color? Are you trying to camouflage?”

You shook your head. “No, I'm… blushing,” you explained. “What is blushing?” Yunho asked. You turned your head to look up at him. “It’s what we do when we’re embarrassed.” Yunho tilted his head inquisitively. “Embarrassed?”

You nodded. “Yeah, embarrassed. Ashamed, abashed, bashful, blushing,” you rambled on. Yunho let out a small huff, almost like a chuckle.

“Do you feel shame for being nude?” he asked, eyes looking up and down your body. ‘Not when you look at me like that.’

Ignoring your thoughts as they started to turn, you nodded again. Uncertain why, but his gaze made heat spread from your core throughout your body. ‘What is this feeling?’

“Why do you feel ashamed?” Yunho asked suddenly. You hesitated to respond. Yunho continued to speak. “Is it because you are alone in your nakedness?” Silence again as you found yourself unable to answer his question.

Why were you ashamed to be naked?

“Shall I undress as well?” Yunho's hands moved to untie the drawstring of his pants. You quickly shook your head. "No! That's okay!"

Yunho looked up, the strings still in his hands before he tied them again.

“Would you like to be alone?" he asked.

“I can leave the room if you would prefer that.”

Not wanting him to leave, you shook your head. “I'll be quick. You don’t have to leave. I won't be naked for long.”

Yunho nodded understandingly. “I will wait while you dress.”

The idea of him watching you change had arousal starting to pool in the pit of your stomach but you were thankful when he turned his back and allowed you some privacy to finally pull on the dry tunic.

Once you'd pulled it on, you announced you were dressed and Yunho turned around to face you. He smiled, noting how the tunic looked more like a dress on you. He was just that big.

“I apologize that I do not have anything that fits you better,” he said, closing the distance between you. “That's okay. It's better than my wet clothes.” Yunho smiled again. “Your clothes should be dry soon,” he said before his smile dropped, replaced with an unreadable expression.

You watched as he started to blink rapidly, nostrils flaring slightly as he picked up a new scent.

“You smell different,” he noted.

“I-I do?” You asked, feeling self conscious suddenly. Yunho nodded.

“It's stronger the closer I get,” he added.

You let out a squeak of surprise as his strong hands grabbed you, holding you in place as Yunho leaned in and sniffed you.

First your hair, then down the side of your neck and tickling you. You giggled as he moved further down, sniffing your shoulder, then down your chest and stomach until he was kneeling on the floor of the cabin, sniffing a place you didn't think anyone should be sniffing.

“Yah! What are you doing?,” you whined, gently trying to push his head away from between your thighs.

Yunho then pushed the fabric of the tunic you wore up past your hips, exposing your naked lower half to him. “Yah!” You cried out in shock, trying to push the tunic down, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.

Yunho glanced up, meeting your gaze. You could see the desire in his eyes, pupils wide with lust. “Please?” he asked softly. You'd be lying if you said you weren't the slightest bit curious.

After giving him a nod, Yunho gently pulled your hands away before quickly lifting one of your legs to get a better view.

“Someone is eager,” you laughed.

Yunho turned his attention down, eyeing your glistening core. You caught a glimpse of the green tip of his tongue darting out to lick his lips before he unfurled his tongue, the tip quickly slipping between your folds and collecting some of your essence and drawing it back into his mouth.

Yunho ignored your protests, eyeing your glistening core. You caught a glimpse of the green tip of his tongue darting out to lick his lips before he unfurled his tongue, the tip quickly slipping between your folds and collecting some of your essence and drawing it back into his mouth.

You watched in a mixture of shock and arousal as his eyes changed, the reptile-like pupils widening. In an instant, Yunho had pulled you to the floor, legs thrown over his shoulders as his long tongue squirmed around, teasing your clit briefly before dipping to your entrance and pushing into your cunt.

You gasped, fingers tangling in his dark tresses as his tongue explored your walls, digging deeper and deeper until it felt like he could go no further. You were pinned to the floor with an alien tongue buried deeper in your pussy than any human man's cock had been. You let out a moan as the muscle inside you continued to squirm and wiggle.

Yunho had a firm hold on your hips as his tongue continued to explore. You whined, moaned, and mewled as you writhed on the floor of his cabin, incoherent babbles and a slew of curses leaving your lips.

A burning desire unlike anything you'd ever felt started in the pit of your stomach and spread throughout your body like a wildfire. Your walls clenched around the muscle, crying out in pure ecstasy as a white hot heat burst inside you, spreading from your belly to your extremities.

As the aftershocks of the most intense orgasm you’d ever experienced ebbed away, Yunho withdrew his tongue, pulling the muscle back into his mouth before kicking his lips once more. He wordlessly undid the strings of his pants before rolling you over onto your stomach, pushing the fabric up past your waist.

You tried to catch your breath, also trying to push yourself up but Yunho pushed your chest back down with a growl. You felt two smooth fleshy appendages wrap around your thighs near your hips, lifting your lower half off the ground.

“What are you-?” your question was cut off as two more fleshy appendages slowly spread your folds, exposing your hole to the cool air and Yunho's gaze.

Slowly, you felt one of the appendages which upon looking back you learned were tentacles, no more than an half an inch in diameter. The tentacle was warm and pulsating as it explored your walls much like Yunho’s tongue had only this time, you cried out as a second tentacle joined the first.

You moaned as they moved around, inspecting your cunt.

You felt one of the tentacles prod against your cervix before carefully pushing into it, making you scream. Yunho quickly covered your mouth with his hand as the tentacle continued exploring, squirming into your uterus. It was a foreign feeling, definitely uncomfortable as you tried to free yourself from Yunho’s iron grip.

The tentacles around your hips kept you in place while one of Yunho’s hands kept your mouth covered, muffling any sound you might make. You screamed into his hand as the second tentacle joined the first, pushing into your uterus and beginning to explore.

Tears filled your eyes as the tentacles continued to prod around inside your uterus, feeling the walls and inspecting every crevice.

“Hmm,” Yunho hummed. “How strange.”

To your relief, the tentacles withdrew from your uterus, and were now moving asynchronously of each other, thrusting into your velvety walls.

“You only have one uterus,” Yunho said, sounding mildly intrigued.

“Your kind is much different than mine.”

You gasped as the tentacles continued to thrust into you at different rhythms. “What do y-you mean?” You moaned. “My kind, the females have two wombs,” Yunho explained. “It is fascinating that you only have one,” he continued.

“It means we will have to do this a little differently.”

You tried to look back at him. “Do what?” You asked, your eyes rolling back as another moan left your lips. Yunho either didn’t hear you or didn’t care as he didn’t answer your question, instead kept his attention on the tentacles that were now moving faster.

You cried out, head dropped as your second orgasm approached. The heads of the tentacles swelled inside you, suddenly bursting and filling your cunt with a warm, viscous fluid at the same time you came.

As quickly as they entered you, the tentacles withdrew. “Please tell me you're done,” you whimpered, glancing back to find that the tentacles had not withdrawn into his body.

“Oh God no,” you whimpered as the two tentacles that were inside you moved to wrap around your thighs, keeping you propped up and spread for the alien. “Please,” you moaned. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Yunho either didn’t hear you or he simply was ignoring you.

You felt something hot prodding at your entrance and tried to peer back but only caught sight of something green and blue. Craning your neck, you were able to make out that you were seeing what you discerned to be his massive cock.

The base, which disappeared into a slit, was a dark blue which faded into a cyan before blending into a bright apple green at the flared, pointed head. At the base of the shaft was a large knot. A dark blue, thick fluid was leaking from a slit at the tip.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat as Yunho’s hands moved to grab your waist, taking a strong but gentle hold before firmly pressing the tip of his cock into you. The pointed head parted your folds, pushing easily into your leaking cunt.

You let out a deep, guttural moan as the flared head breached your walls. The thick shaft slid further into your pussy until the top of the knot pressed against your lips. Yunho made no further attempt to enter you, merely holding you still as he no doubt needed a moment to adjust to your walls. His cock was impossibly big and you had no idea how it even fit.

Yunho pulled back carefully before snapping his hips forward, making you gasp. There were no comforting words. He didn’t warn you before setting a relentless pace, hands gripping your waist tightly as the tentacles around your thighs held you tightly. It was rough, fast, and animalistic.

This wasn’t for pleasure. Not entirely anyway. This was for procreation and the thought both terrified and aroused you. The idea of Yunho filling you with his cum had you moaning, nails digging into the wooden floorboards.

With each thrust, the top of the knot hit your entrance, reminding you that at some point, he was going to try to fit it all inside you. The thought was less horrifying and more erotic as you imagined how full you'd feel with not only his entire cock but that knot stuffed inside.

You moaned, walls clenching around Yunho's cock and pulling a grunt from him as well. “F-feels so good,” you whimpered, chest still resting against the floor. You tried to push yourself up but Yunho let out another snarl, pushing your chest to the wood again.

“Down," he growled. "Stay. Down.”

You replied with a yelp as his thrusts grew in intensity, the sound of his skin hitting yours as well as the wet sound of his knot slapping against your soaked lips. With each animalistic thrust, you could feel the knot start to stretch your entrance.

A slew of growls and grunts left Yunho as his grip on your waist tightened. Your cunt convulsed around his massive cock as your third orgasm approached, your whines and moans turning into cries and screams of pleasure until Yunho gave one final thrust, the tentacles around your thighs pulling your ass taut against him and driving the knotted base of his cock into your tight pussy.

A deep, rumbling growl emanated from his chest, drowned out only by your shriek of pain from the sudden intrusion of the knot.

You tried to steady your breathing but it was too shaky. Your thighs shook as you felt a gush of warm liquid fill your cunt. It was more than any human sized load and soon you realized it wasn't stopping as Yunho continued to unload a massive amount of cum inside you.

Your belly swelled slightly and you moaned, feeling fuller than you'd ever felt before. The knot at the base of Yunho's cock also swelled, effectively trapping his cock inside you.

You felt something squirming around inside, pushing past your cervix, though not as thick as the tentacles. As quickly as you felt it, the feeling retracted and you were left, the lower half of your body being held up by Yunho’s hands and the four tentacles, with his cock knotted inside your cunt.

Time passed but you weren’t sure how much as the storm outside raged on, rain pelting the outside of the hut and loud crashed of thunder shaking the ground.

Finally, after you felt enough time should have passed, you spoke up.

“How much longer?” you whined, cheek pressed against the cool floor. Yunho softly shushed you, one of his hands moving to rub your back soothingly. “Only an hour more,” he answered.

“An hour?!”

Yunho chuckled, still rubbing your back.

“Yes. Another hour and the swelling will go down. Then you will be free.” You sighed heavily. “Fine. One more hour.”

Yunho hummed in response, smiling down at you.

“Yes. One more hour, and then we can go again.”

Your eyes shot open as you tried to push yourself up only for Yunho to grunt and push you back down against the floor.

“Again?!” you cried out, Yunho gently stroked your hips.

“Yes," he cooed. “We will go again.”

You groaned against the wooden floor. “How many more times?”

Yunho’s fingers on your hip continued to draw circles against your skin.

“Many times,” he answered. “After all, we are mated now.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, realization dawning on you.

“Mated?” You whispered. Yunho hummed, nodding as he looked down at you fondly. “Yes,” he confirmed. “Mated. You are mine now.”

‘Oh you gotta be shitting me…’

You don’t know how you managed to survive another two rounds of whatever insane mating ritual Yunho’s species had but you did. You also managed to convince him to part with Seonghwa’s key.

With the promise of coming back, he took you back to the cave you’d come out of and after a surprisingly tender and heartbreaking farewell, you were back in the dark tunnel, flashlight in hand as you headed back the way you came.

The walk took almost no time at all, the rock and vegetation giving way for the wood of the bookshelves and books as the door came into view.

You took hold of the doorknob and twisted it, feeling relief as the door opened and you stepped out into the lobby, never being so glad to be surrounded by ruined books and stacks of old paper and dust before.

Seonghwa looked up as you closed the door behind you and turned to face him.

A smirk was present on his face as he inspected your appearance.

“Welcome back,” he mused. “How was your trip?”

#cultofdionysusnet #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #yunho scenarios #yunho imagines #yunho fanfic #yunho smut #yunho x reader #series: library of illusion

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Four Weeks in New York

gorgeous gif credit to @violaobanion

Requested: ☑️

Warnings: SO. MUCH. SEX. 18+, reunion jitters, potentially out of character actions due to rough sex? but then again, they’ve missed each a lot other, ok?! Also, i dunno, but beware he’s a horny over thinker and he’s in a funny headspace due to, ya know, war. Jean is a champ, Harry can’t manage to blow a load for awhile, mild breeding kink if you wanna call purposefully making a baby that…Gerry Hamilton and Margaret Blakely make tiny little cameos in here and I swear I’m half thinking of writing this trio of women all giggling over their legendary husbands

Word count: a hefty 7k and we’ve got more coming for ya

Coauthored with m’baby @crazymadpassionatelove

Synopsis: Harry Crosby is sent stateside to be with his wife for a month of terribly needed R&R in the summer of 1944

Caveat: this is based off a portrayal of real people in a tv series, while Jean wasn’t represented by an actress as Harry was, in this price of media I intend the same. I mean no disrespect to the real men and women mentioned and dramatized herein.

Scene One:

Jean had been at it so long in front of the mirror she began to notice every grain of powder collected in her smile lines and every infinitesimal blur of strong coal from around her eyes and -she needed to step away, at least a few inches from the reflective glass and get a grip. At the more sensible distance of gripping onto the edge of the counter -marble and swanky like everything in this posh and paid for hotel- she saw her face restored to what it was, a pretty decent cutie’s with a perfect mask of makeup and freshly styled hair: fit for a homecoming.

It was going to be fine. She was going to be fine. She was going to need to make him fine again, and give him back to them strong enough to come back to her for good. Happiness and dread swirled in a gnawing cocktail inside her, the cruel thought of almost wishing not to be teased with him at all until she could keep him for good fighting with the braver parts of herself that wanted every second of him she could have, even if it had a big red finish line drawn at a month.

A month was a long time, a month was about all they’d had to be married before he left. Technically, or at least Jean wondered if technically, it would mean she’d only been fully “married” for two months. Of course that was nonsense to the general public and the pastors who reminded about vows and the wedding band she flashed at over eager servicemen, but to her select little girl gang, the ones who worked at the factory with her and who had to give up their husbands too- they talked about their brief marriedness with hushed and giggly fondness, like something out of a dream and just as brief.

The fiancés in the girl gang were jealous of this topic and Jean supposed they had a right to be. She indulged the innocents with all their questions about being “actively” married, tried to repay them with the same frankness she’d so desperately sought before her wedding. But as it was, she’d only had a month of active service, and while it had been spent as vigorously as any young couple’s first four weeks of legal license, it had left Jean in the interim with a plain impression of herself being a little bit of a hussy.

She wanted Harry so badly this past year since he’d gone she hardly thought it medically sane. Wanted him so badly, and that was something not even the girl gang could always bring themselves to titter about. It was one thing for Margaret Blakely to joke about her Ev coming back the previous month ‘taking’ his leave in more ways than one, but they weren’t often out here asking each other if nothing really fixed the hunger since their man had been gone. It was all Jean thought of. Jean wanted to ask if it ever cooled, if the sticky frustration with one’s own inadequate fingers ever subsided.

By the dreamy eyed state of the recently visited Mrs. Blakely, the answer appeared to be a resounding no. Nothing ever beat the real thing. And that made Jean want to writhe in frustration before learning that she too, would be visited by a on-leave husband.

A year of being married and only a month of it “active”, Jean had concluded it was a chronic case on her part of salivating need for her Bing, the only cure would be him -him inside her, in perpetuity. All she’d gotten out of Maragret had been a grinning warning to Jean to “get in shape for Major Crosby’s furlough, you’ll spend it on your back.”

Jean could freely admit to herself that she needed to be ripped apart by her man, she needed him lingering inside her when he left again. She just feared that it wasn’t exactly their usual way. How could she tell him, what if that’s not what he needed. What if it was all different, what if it needed to be?

Jean pointed a finger at herself in the fancy gilt mirror, red nails pointing at her fancy clad self in pastel silk and tiny bows, “He’s your husband,” she told herself sternly, trying not to sweat at the idea he could be here any hour, catch her in this state of intentional undress, and help himself to her jittery body, “he loves you, you love him. All you need to do is let him have his husbandly rights and things will go smoothly. It’s a vacation not a death trap. You’ve got a man to patch up, get on with it.”

This speech gave her four whole seconds of empowered determination before a vigorous set of knocks on the hotel suite’s outer door made her jump out of her skin in surprise. She could go open the door but then -what if someone was in the hall with him? And saw her in this state of…lack of…well, her in her lingerie. He had a key, they’d have given him a key. He was the Mister to her Missus Crosby, they were allowed a shared suite.

“Jean?” Hearing that dear voice for the first time in twelve months, even faintly from far outside the bathroom door, flooded Jean with so much feeling her knees locked up and her throat collapsed on her response. He was her husband, her Bing, her first and only love, they’d be alright. They had to be.

Harry gingerly closed the door behind him, the heavy painted wood shutting with a finality that made him feel terribly anxious. While he had been trudging up the hall to their suite he’d been able to laugh a little at his dismal procession, morose shuffling and hang dog attitude. It had been absurd for a guy coming back to see the wife who he loved. He knew that and he could say that again and again in his head in a voice that morphed more and more into Bubbles’ voice an-

-and now he was in the room and he wasn’t anticipating anything, he had arrived and as if he’d just touched down in occupied Europe, he couldn’t help his braced posture or hunted surveillance of the oddly empty room.

“Jean?”

She wasn’t in here, but the en-suite bathroom door was shut. She wasn’t in here but from the bathroom came wafting something so viscerally nostalgic of her that he felt his heart pound in devoted recognition before his brain even caught up: her soap. Not some fancy hotel brand, it seemed she had brought her old stuff, the stuff he’d lathered on her as many times as he’d had the chance before leaving, the stuff she smelled of before church and the stuff that got more strong and pungent when he made her sweat in it from their exertions in bed.

It smelled like Jean in here and it was enough to make him drop his duffel bag with a decided thump. He was staying. This was his wife, everything might be different but some things like soap -they’d still be the same, as would the dry mouthed want it filled him with.

“Jean?”

He ventured further into the room, not bothering to call her name again, maybe being around guys had made him callous to spooking her but no real harm would be done, he was…him.

“Oh! Bing?” Jean sounded flustered behind her door and Harry found himself grinning. “I’m coming! I’m coming right out!”

It sounded less like a reassurance than it did an order to herself, which was amusing and it made him wonder, just how awkward were the two of them going to manage to make this? God knows he’d tripped over himself enough times winning her over the first round, he had such hopes never to revisit the bumbling stages of courtship. Seemed like once they’d married and joined it had been smooth as glass ever since- until…until he’d stopped being himself.

Until he had wandered into a hotel room with a woman who didn't wear a matching gold band. Jean knew nothing of that though. She never would. Sweet peaches and cream Jean who had come all this way to see him. Bringing that soap and the books he saw stacked on the night table. Bringing that sweet, pink pussy he needed to sink himself into. Remind himself of who he was. He didn't want to be Major Crosby at the moment. He wanted to just be Jean's husband. He heard the clock in the room ticking, felt the sweat pooling at the back of his neck as he waited for her. Her Elizabeth Arden lipsticks lined up like perfect little soldiers on the dresser. It had been so long that kissing her was surely going to feel like the first time all over again.

There was more amiss in the room, upon further inspection, besides her trunks and her hat boxes and the lipsticks. Amiss in that: there were elements no hotel should have, the plate of very delicious looking misshapen fudge, for instance, the plate itself looking suspiciously like their wedding set. Harry could describe that pink and green pattern on ivory in vivid detail if you had asked him yesterday, tracing it now was like no time had passed at all since that first breakfast as husband and wife, tittering over having “things” of their own. And beside the plate a book, one he’d not finished when he went over, he realized with a lump growing in his throat. Then there was the bed beneath these things, tidily made but not pristine, ha -how could it be with homey floral sheets in place of pristine white and a monogrammed pillow case each.

Giant embroidered C’s. For Crosby, of course.

Jeepers -he’d taken Jean for the first time on those very sheets, now he was recognizing them, and some very uncivilized part of him suddenly wanted to rip the covers back and find out if her virgin blood hadn’t fully scrubbed out-

“Bing!”

He is awkwardly sitting on the edge of the bed, thumbing through the pages of Look Homeward, Angel when Jean manages to saunter out with a summoned amount of calm. His hair is sleek and trimmed, his jacket well fitting, his whole self in his army duds seeming so comfortable, filled out, self possessed -it’s the floral sheets beneath him that ruins the effect just a little, makes him seem shifty, out of place. That and those great brown eyes suddenly round as a newborn calf’s at the long awaited sight of her.

She’s seen the soldier’s return posters -does he expect the same greeting? No little party at the station in satin and lace here, but they’d both agreed it would be better to be private, secluded, uninterrupted. Now it feels too tame and mild.

Does he want that? That reunion embrace?

Before she can rethink it she rushes him. “Binger!” she gasps out right as he stands to meet her head on, long arms outstretched to engulf her. This she knows, this she dreamed of. If she squeezes too tight she must be forgiven, it’s too fabulous to be considered real for many moments, the feel of his flexing back beneath her hands and his chest under her cheek. It’s tight and jarring and not a bit smooth but it’s him, it’s him and all is well.

Harry has his nose buried in her hair, that smell is wafting in again. It’s Jean -hits him with the force of a rocket and he’s suddenly responding in kind, arms crushing her to him, can’t get close enough, can’t tell her enough about missing her and loving her and how he’s put one step in front of the other all these years for this moment.

“Oh Bing,” she exclaims again, her face just barely pulled away to really get a look at him, her hands on his cheeks, “I can’t believe it. I’ve prayed, every day I’ve prayed for this.”

Prayers -the word sours in his mind after what he’s seen, after how many he’s sent up and not plane returned with an answer. “Mmm, Mrs. Crosby.” he contemplates the dear face before him before dragging his hand beneath her hair, cupping the back of her head with his large hand, watchface cool on the back of her neck. She’s been waiting for him to kiss her, wanting to let him lead, hoping her initial enthusiasm would embolden him like before. Instead he seems lost in archiving her face, those dear, melancholy eyes flitting over every feature, the hands studying and firm but not a caress. It’s obvious there’s something missing here, a piece ajar from the puzzle.

Jean stands atiptoe carefully, and determinedly slots her lips against his plush, red ones. That seems to rouse him a bit, Harry responds instantly, making up for his hesitancy, deepening it as his tongue meets hers in a heart wrenching reunion of sorts. He always was fond of kissing, her Bing. Now he was kissing her senseless and this -this was more like what she imagined.

His hands trail from her neck down the her ribs and into the dip of her waist, over the swell of her hips where he vaguely notices she’s adorned in some silky little something, no doubt chosen and worn just for him.

Say something Croz, you big idiot —he thinks to himself, confronted with the fact he is gripping at her and sucking face without another word said besides inane repetition of her name.

“Jean you look…perfect.” he mumbles against her lips.

It’s boyish and reminiscent, the stumbling praises mumbled so earnestly. It makes her giggle fondly. She breaks their kiss and takes hold of his face in her hands, indulging a little inspection of her own. “My beautiful boy,” she croons, “you came back to me.”

She kisses the prominent bridge of his nose and his perpetually furrowed brow and the smooth below each heavily fringed eye, his cheeks, his chin, the corner of his mouth -she pressed at his chest till she’s got him sat on the edge of the bed again. He’s fully dressed, taut as a bowstring and she wants him, needs him, to relax. She can feel the tension, the uncertainty, rolling off him.

She won’t let them take this away from them, she won’t let them rob them of their comfort with each other.

She kneels gently before him and undoes his boots, enjoying the way he pets her hair, quietly admiring its shine and style. His trousers are creased and starched and knelt between his legs Jean finally notices it then, the prominent tent beneath the olive weave. It makes her breath hitch. Was he always this big? Even camouflaged by trousers?

“You must be tired,” she frets aloud, working on the laces, “and cramped from such a long flight. Did you take something? Your eyes are a little…funny.”

Harry nods before realizing she’s not one of his men. Wives tend to value words and sentences, the more syllables the better. “Yeah,” he croaks aloud, “something for the stomach.”

Oh Bing and his stomach. Ever the dutiful wife, Jean rubs the sock feet she just liberated and kneads her way up his calves, hoping to leech some of the tension out of him. She works her way to his thighs, rising back up to her feet when he grabs her wrists and pulls her into another kiss. It’s even hungrier this time and his first moan of the evening sends a jolt of longing triumph straight to her core.

“I’ve missed you.” she chokes out between kisses and he responds by biting her neck, his thumbs rolling the satin in circles on her hips. His front pressing hard and firm against her lower belly, making her mouth run dry.

Still, Harry’s not saying much and if he wasn't kissing and caressing her so ardently, she'd have no clue they were even on the same planet.

And so Jean decides to do something rather bold. Something her mother would not approve of. She puts her hands on his shoulders, briefly causing him to pull away from her neck, then she whispers temptingly in his ear, “Last night I…slid my ring finger inside me. pretended it was you…I won't have to pretend anymore, will I, Harry?”

She feels him twitch against her belly beneath his layers. It’s her turn to kiss his cheek and nibble his neck, finding his little groans to be intoxicating. His grip tightens on her waist as he buries his head against her with his eyes closed, breathing her in. That scent.

That's when she adds in a plea, “Y-y-you're gonna have to…open me

up again Croz.…..you know what I

mean?...my poor little fingers are so

tiny and now I'm back to how I was

on our wedding night…”

Harry’s groan is animalistic and pained and she -well Jean’s a horny, rambling mess and she can’t bring herself to be ashamed, she missed him too strongly. “You're a hero to America.” She swears into his panting mouth, “And to me. I'm gonna give you the strength to help you get through the rest of what you need to do. But I need something from you, I need you to put a baby in me Bing.”

That is what he responds to, like orders in war. He’s good at finding his way with directions. His head rears back and his eyes sharpen with concentration. Jean wants something? he’ll deliver it, always was that way.

He nods.

“Lay back on the bed Jean.” his voice is quiet but she’s never heard it so steady, so commanding. That must be the voice he uses when he speaks to his men over there. If she wasn't squeezing her thighs together and scrambling onto the bed to follow Major Crosby orders, well, she'd cum right then and there. This isn't the same Bing that reads the paper, his beautiful lips mouthing the words as he does, the one who brings her flowers just because, or is quick not to curse in public. This man before her is a war weary Major who is used to being obeyed. Jean intends to follow every word he says, the thought of seeing him off without a little piece of him nestled inside her would just devastate her.

She burrows up against their Crosby pillows, looking like an absolute treat and admiring her man's package that seems to be growing bigger by the second. He's panting like a wild horse above her and she realizes she should heed all that advice she'd been given. Be a good wife, take care of his needs. Her painted toes rub against the sheets as she slowly inches forward to help him undress. Major Crosby beats her to it though, ridding himself of his uniform efficiently and tossing it on to the floor in a rumpled mess accompanied by a huff.

Is he mad? Jean wonders to herself. His freshly exposed cock sure looks mad. It's red, and almost looks hot to the touch as it dribbles and leaks down his thick shaft.

Was it always that big? Were his eyes always so wild? Bright -she remembers them as being bright.

He collapses on her purposefully, a crushing embrace with his hands snarled in her hair, elbows to the bed, his belly to hers, his lips devouring her own. It’s a shock and a thrill, that first feeling of skin against skin again, Harry’s so warm his tongue is nearly scalding and she feels herself sweat in her skimpy finery. The anticipation is harsh, the dynamic fumbling in its ravenous rush, her head spins when an irrational spike of fear slices through the heady haze of desire that his touches coax. Touch? -a mauling of sorts, more like, he is all teeth and nails and assessing hands, grabbing at her ferociously.

Instinctively Jean begins to rub him, his shoulders, his neck, his forearms

-a soothing caress at a kinder pace than he allows but she means it well, channels that little spark of anxiety she feels to sooth his own keyed up self.

“I’m here, I’m here,” she keeps swearing as she feels him buckle just that little bit to the insistent kneading of her hands on his arms, “I’m not going anywhere.” she swears and the rigid line of his body sags further into her neck, some off kilter focus he’s carried about him slipping under her gentle persuasion. “Baby, how about a little rub?” she coos, lithely extracting herself out from under him before she thinks on it too long.

“That might be nice.” he manages, not sure what the hell it is he needs, “My neck maybe..took a little spill a few days ago...” he casually mentions the incident, underplaying that whole fiasco of passing out cold from exhaustion, splattering on the floor like the contents of a mop bucket.

“Then let me rub your neck.” she begs.

He allows it and with a slightly lost gaze he follows her movements as she props up beside him and brings him closer for leverage. She scoops his head into her lap with that familiarity that made him fall first and hard for her, and suddenly he is pillowed on the warm, giving belly of a woman. His woman. And Croz feels himself begin to melt from that feeling alone, long before her clever thumbs start working at the knots nearly calcified at the base of his neck.

She used to do this for him when he was at school, too much reading in an ill advised position had him often so stoved up he couldn’t be of any use on the baseball team. Jean had learned to work her magic then, and Harry had learned how very much he liked his face buried against the swell of a girl’s womb.

Oh fuck -her little speech comes rushing back to him- Jean wants a baby.

Damn the jet lag, the separation jitters and all the rest that got him sent here like a looney to a special holding facility. Jean wants a baby and he hasn’t been rock hard since Dartmouth only to let it go to waste by sleeping it off.

Right when she begins to feel the motion of her hands take effect on his rigid shoulders, her Harry is suddenly lifting his head again, face slightly flushed and creased from the lace of her nighty and he smiles at her then. Mischievous and warm, “C'mere,” he beckons with a voice that means something and so she follows him as he sits up, “stand up babydoll, show me that outfit. Let me appreciate ya.” He slides his warm palm into her smaller one and tugs her to her feet, an easy sort of dance move to bring her round in front of his position, swaying her back and forth just outside the v of his legs.

“Well, look at you.” he marvels at her, his expression gone soft under that wrecked mop of curls. Jean recognizes the old spark alight in him, the one that might go dormant for her when away or when she couldn’t make up her damn mind but anytime she wanted him back?—oh he looked at her like this, like he was lucky as hell to have her and intended to be brave with that luck. “Turn around for me, loverdoll, c’mon, show me what I’ve got, come onnnn Jeaaann,” he insists, his voice playful and insistent as he spins her with a hand at her hip until she shows him the back of this frilly little excuse for nightwear, “Look at that.” he whistles behind her and Jean feels her cheeks burn pleasantly, “Pretty as a fawn, Jean.” he punctuates this odd little compliment with the back of a finger running up the length of her thigh, to the little swell of her rump and Jean knows her legs tremble in helpless response. “Go on, strike a pose for me, I know you didn’t put on this get up for nothin’. Who'd believe it? My Mrs. Crosby out here lookin’ like one of those girls.”

‘Those’ girls, whoever they are exactly, are left nebulous and Jean likes it that way, it gives her a saucy bravery to pitter patter away from his hold and turn back to face his unabashedly admiring gaze. Jean cocks a hip and drops a shoulder, knee turned in, toes pointed. Gerry had made her perfect it a million times in the mirror when she should’ve been sensibly getting into a gown and getting some shut eye instead.

Thank God for Margaret Ann Blakely and her fun loving pastimes. And also: “Screw him for us Jean!!” -thank God for Gerry Hamilton and her brazen preoccupations with her own man, for how she piled on as she convinced Jean of an assortment of little silk things thrown into her suitcase, “Screw him good, for all of us! For Americaaaaa!” the young and empty Mrs. Hamilton’s candor had built until Jean was close to frantic to get into the taxi and leave her best friends and their antics behind.

Jean didn’t doubt for a single minute that Hambone and Ev would shortly be receiving letters that good naturedly bemoaned Jean and Croz’s luck.

“You think you needed to look like this to get me to nail ya?” her Croz teases her now and his grin is lewd and Jean likes it that way, it matches the disrespectful hands that reach out without her Harry’s usual calculation and instead paw at her tits like a sex starved man. It sends a line of electricity straight to the little button between her legs and Jean ends up leaning into those hands until she’s suddenly so near him she’s on top of him and then, easy as anything, he knocks her sideways and under him once more. Legs splayed wide and with a husband lying on top of her with a very determined look on his face -she reckons the games are over.

“Gonna be like a second wedding.” she squeaks out, giddy eyed in excitement, toes curling in terror, he feels so big slotted at the spot.

Was he always so big?

Harry slings her leg over his hip and he’s suddenly in her without even needing to fumble for entrance. Little Croz pries her open all at once in a smooth, brutal, unyielding shove and that’s all it takes, he’s so overwhelmingly substantial that Jean finds herself bowing under him in a climax from the painful pleasure of reunion alone.

“Really, already?” he chuckles at her as she hoarsely keens out her ecstasy beneath him, her nails digging crescents in the flesh of his tense shoulders, his own thumbs stroking along her throat, “I missed you too, Mrs. Crosby.” he laughs.

She slaps at him, lovingly as her throat still hasn’t fully come back to use, “God you feel good.” She croaks.

“Just wait till you learn there’s more.” he teases before pulling his hips back and keeping that far tip barely nestled in her petals before slamming in again so forcefully she feels something funny in her chest.

“Bing!” it’s not a protest on her part but, my God -he, they…they used to give it the ole college try before he left, but this? This must be what it’s like to get really and truly screwed.

Screwing her, that’s what he’s doing and she wonders in a vague haze of helpless sensations if he’ll auger a hole straight through her back to the mattress with this merciless rhythm. She’s as vaguely impressed by his strength and capability as she is by her own body’s ability to absorb it, her freshly rediscovered hole burning at the use and somehow it’s all just a wonderfully heated, overwhelming miasma of delight as she keeps on seizing under him and he bullies her right though one peak after another with only a wicked grin on those full lips to suggest he’s got any idea what she’s so happily enduring.

“I can’t stop, I just can’t stop, it's just so -it’s so much.” she babbles, very keen to get her point across but very unsure what her point actually is. All thoughts, feelings and intentions center around Harry and that fat schlong of his rearranging her insides. She’s not sure her toes have been uncurled in over a quarter hour and her mind’s not been her own for longer still. “You’re so much.” she wails, and for half of it she means not his size but how long he’s been going at it.

“And you’re gonna take it.” he confirms, the hand on her hip inexorable and his pretty face is half snarling at her in desperation. “You miss this?” his voice shakes from his exertions and Jean is sure she’s never heard a more attractive sound than his wrecked breathing, “Miss this, huh? Bet you did, so goddamn tight. No married woman’s got any…any…any business being so tight. Gonna fix that, gonna make you so married you’re not gonna-“ he presses her legs back until she feels her hamstrings burn, knees to her chest, his body lunging into hers…angry again? she doesn’t know he just keeps grunting “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She’s milking him so perfectly, peaking and shuddering and clenching more frequently than he ever remembers and he should be so saved up he can’t manage to hold on but instead -the fuck if he can blow. It just won’t let go. The noise of his work is a lew phwap phwap phwap of split splat suction and from her whimpers and begs he knows he has already spent her but-

Goddamn! Came all this way, waited all this time and he can’t let loose?

Through the haze of her overstimulation Jean can feel something amiss, the tension back and worse than that, there’s the frustrated anger of before. Harry is breathing hard and his face is dark and the prominent vein across his alabaster forehead is popping so significantly she worries about stroke. He’s about to crack a tooth at this rate, his tension is so extreme and then suddenly, there’s a pause.

He stares down at the wet mess where they’re joined, brows knit together and mouth firm before a flicker ignites in his eye and in a fit of rage at himself and this deficient cock, he grabs at one of the decorative pillows and throws it across the room. It bangs dully against the window and flops to the floor.

Unsurprisingly the outburst against cotton batting and fancy trim does little for his pickle, he’s still stiff as a board and nowhere close to relief. He fought a whole goddamn war and came back just to not be able to get his rocks off. What a joke.

Gently as he can, and with rampant self pity running loose, he disentangles from Jean’s snug self and throws himself beside her on his back.

Bewildered Jean is more than a little grateful for the intermission. She does her best to collect her wits, looking over at him and clocking his defeated expression and closed eyes, the hand pinching the bridge of his nose. And poor Little Croz that is a furious magenta red with veins about ready to burst from swelling, sticking straight up from between his legs.

Shifting onto her side to face him rubs her poor kitty just wrong -or right- and a helpless mewl escapes her as she creams herself again from that little movement alone. The sound and shudder of his wife makes Croz crack open an eye, watching intently as Jean bites her lip and timidly runs her fingers through the hair on his chest.

“Come sit on my lap, Jeanie.” he mumbles.

She perks up with a smile, “Whatever my hero wants, baby.” she condones before shakily straddling his lean hips and sinking down with a noticeable squelch. It earns a drawn out moan of satisfaction from both of them. Sensing the agony and desperation of the man beneath her as she begins to lift her hips and slam them back down, juices splash on her feet from the movement. To lift his spirits she attempts her best at shoving her tits in his face while she does it and gets her nipples tugged in thanks.

This right here is perfect, she’s so full she can hardly bear it but he feels so good she ignores the burn of her legs and keeps her pace up, the beautiful expanse of her man laid out before her a perfect spur. The sun seems to have set by now and through the open curtains the sounds and lights of the city pour in, glistening off his sweaty skin like a million stars and doing nothing to dim the noise of his appreciative moans, the hoarse grunts of her name, the sounds of their sticky hips colliding.

“I've dreamed about being full like this every night since you left.” Jean tells him, stuffed beyond her limits it feels like he’s so damn deep he could describe the feel of her cervix in detail.

She can feel those tight bowling balls she's sitting on that need to unload inside her, and precariously she reaches backwards to fondle them with one hand, remembering how he used to react to it. She gets her first high pitched whine of the evening from him at that, his chest heaving and his head thrashing, curls everywhere. “Bing -- oh it's big, it's big, I'll take it all though I-I promise….we gotta make you cum, baby.” she determines, not needing the discarded pillow or fuming passion to alert her to his desperation, “Lemme help you…just fill me up, let it alllll out... you need to, must be aching so bad”

At the mention of the ache he begins to buck into her wildly like a feral thing. Jean would have toppled off from his vigor if he hadn’t seized her hips in an iron grip and held her still for his assault from below. Jean hears herself squealing and whimpering and begging nonsense, still a bit fresh -and respectful- to this new and ferocious side of him. Somewhere in it though, Harry’s beginning to crack, frustration going from anger to fury to desperation to some boyish and pitiful need for relief.

Harry doesn’t mean to groan so loudly, so pathetically but it’s all so perfect and he’s so damn close and Jean’s like a sprinkler down there she’s enjoying herself so much and -why the hell can’t a fella just blow?

Jean instantly stills atop him and cradles his face tenderly, soft searching eyes and lips whispering about …something, something something “baby boy” -and he shudders. His pants are harsh as if he’s about to have a heart attack and his chest is so winded and achy he thinks he might. Or else cry.

Wouldn’t that be fun.

Beneath his hands he feels Jean’s hips begin to flex and she’s grinding on him again, twisting her hips in a slow figure eight that feels like a man’s heaven beneath his palms, and ten times that for his cock. It’s not doing it enough to make him blow but for a moment he decides that’s fine, he inflates his poor lungs again and lays back, admittedly a bit too stiff and rigid, and touches her as she pleases herself on top of him. She giggles shyly to him and her near constant moans are music to his ears as she swivels on his cock. He enjoys watched the pink little folds absorb him and the way their curls brush and mix where they meet, his lower belly a wet mess and streaks of the same running down to her ankles, they’ve made such a soup.

Clam fuckin’ chowder, by the looks of it.

Maybe he did blow. Doesn’t feel like it. And after watching and coaxing her through another melting peak, he lets her sag onto his chest for a minute and regroup before, with a kiss to her hair and a hard smack to her ass, he tells her,

“Hands and knees, Jean, if you want that baby -hands and knees.”

He barked it like an order, and while a little startled by it, she still wastes no time in flipping herself over and off him, scurrying into the position he specified, shaky from so many orgasms and the anticipation of him back atop her. Wincing inwardly at the thought of that package at this angle with how sore she already is-

-and he wastes no time. But instead of a cock she feels the shockingly familiar but never less exquisite feeling of his tongue running up the messy length of her slit. Her face collapses into the pillows along with her pleased shriek of “Bing!”.

He he laughs warm and wicked behind her, enjoying the ass up display of what he’s done to her.

“Spread ‘em Jean.” he tells her, and two dainty hands leave off from gripping the covers to bashfully pull her cheeks apart and show her husband where his fat cock belongs. He can see her pulsing down like a living entity of its own, even in this dim light.

“I'll be good... I'll be good for you, Major. Tell me what to do.” Jean swears hoarsely, those fawnish legs trembling again.

“Just take me.” he mutters simply, mounting her suddenly with his hand on the back of her head, keeping her cheek to the pillow and her scream muffled as he shoves in and begins to plow this squeaking little lady like tomorrow is indeed not promised to men like him.

Beneath him, between the high pitched squeals of pleasure and the urgent whines of endurance, Jean is muttering a litany of …something. Again and again she’s saying words like “it’s ok baby, it’s ok” and Harry isn’t sure if it’s meant for him or her, she sounds like a drunk fairy and his head begins to buzz with likelihood. “It’s ok baby, they told me you'd be like this, it’s ok. I can take it. I’ve missed you—“ she just keeps muttering that and vaguely Harry is pretty sure that comfort is meant for him and he wonders who ‘they’ are and what ‘like this’ even means.

On Jean’s part she is legitimately unsure who’s she’s trying to convince, likely herself but also, maybe that part of her between her legs that’s torn between panic and absolute ecstasy at his rough usage. Jean's mind spins at the realization of how much she likes it, likes the feral proof of how badly he missed her, needs her, wants her still. Her sweet and mild Harry climbed on top of her and is now railing her, and while it’s not your average little jaunt in the sheets, she clings to her pillow and takes it with something like pride…in between the moments when Harry’s fat cock wipes her mind a starry white as her legs kick up helplessly beneath him and her back arches and her hole clenches and another happy mess slides down her inner thighs to the sodden sheets.

And all through it the best of it is Harry and his voice, half sane sounding for once this evening as if to balance out the animalistic pose he has her in, groaning above her,

“That's it, be my good girl..my good, good girl. Always so good to me.”

He’s petting her hair like she’s a damn Labrador or something, wrapping her beautiful curls around his hand, arched over her like a cat, it’s perfect and he’s so deep he thinks he could fuck his balls in, foot placed sturdily on the bed beside her for further leverage.

“-Croz! You gotta!” His wife wails nonsensically beneath him, he picks her head up by the hair to hear what the hell she’s jabbering about now, husbandly rights or how she was ‘told’ he’d be.

She’s so cock wrecked it ain’t even funny but when he prods her with a “What's that Jean?” between thrusts he gets a slightly more formulated thought-

“You gotta put a baby in me!” she insists through sobs, orgasm after orgasm turning her into this shaking, shuddering, limp excuse of a woman.

A loverdoll, for real.

Her words ping in his head like that damn red light everywhere he goes on base. A light at the end of the tunnel, an eminent thing he’s needed for. Tightness seizes his belly and takes him unawares, suddenly Harry’s roaring out a resounding,

“Oh FUCK! Jean! Fuck-“ that bounces around the room like a cacophony.

The hotel guests next door might be

wondering why a moose is dying in

Manhattan? But no sweat, it’s just Major Crosby seeding his willing wife.

Like a soothing balm on a surgical wound, Jean feels him exploding warm and sticky and healing inside her at last. It doesn't stop coming, rope after rope of the thick, steaming hot gold of his body swelling her own and this adds the finishing touches to what was already a melted woman. In his last rapacious thrusts, she can feel her body playing the minx, trying to squeeze him out but her Croz is having none of it, like a dying man to water, he uses every bit of strength left to shove himself back in and flood her until she’s a collapsed and leaking mess.

In a haze, Croz pulls his now mercifully limp cock out of her and surveys her wrecked self with bleary, appreciative eyes. “Looks like you been through a war of your own, baby.” he jokes but his voice is so wrecked from his previous yells it startles his newly moderated self and he ends up toppled over beside her, no longer capable of giving a damn about anything.

His eyelids refuse to stay open and his neck is laying funny but -fuck! He was just inside Jean!

“You ok, Bing?” he hears her sweet voice whisper beside him and it was no dream then, and God forgive him he was probably mean. She’s panting beside him and when he can’t manage to answer he feels her hand grab his wrist and gently guide him somewhere until he’s petting startlingly warm petals that are saturated with his spunk.

“Think you managed to open me up, alright.” she titters, still sounding drunk and he can’t help the way his cheek crinkles in a returning smile.

Smashed into the pillow as it is, it’s still the prettiest expression of the best man Jean has ever known. “Y-Yeah.” her man croaks, half insensible but his beautiful hand keeps petting her where she’s sore and recently excavated, his identification bracelet jangling softly in the stillness, “You were such a good girl Jeanie..a good wife…ya did your job.” he mumbles more, fully in Major mode as he begins to drift off, forgetting entirely that maybe a fella shouldn't praise his wife like she's one of his men gotten back from a mission.

But Jean takes the compliment well, knowing how it’s meant, knowing that maybe tomorrow when he’s more conscious and healed, she may be blocked out from that world entirely. It’s a little glimpse and she takes it for what it is, with soft appreciation. Smilingly she lets go of his hand to give deflated Little Croz some pats, the sticky, shrunken thing is playing at being harmless and she has a longing to meanly suck on it until it shows it’s true colors again.

But no, for now, Croz’s heavy and nearly insessible arm throws itself over her waist and drags her to him, slotting the married couple together like spoons in their drawer.

They could try to shower but that seems too daunting a prospect at present, and highly futile considering what lies in store -more of the same. And for her part, Jean doesn’t dare move and slosh and waste any of what her Bing gave her. His forearm is heavy over her battered womb, cum and abuse swelling it just that little bit as if she were on her menses. She’s not, those were two weeks ago.

When his hand splays and cups the swollen bulge he made, Jean whispers to his already snoozing self, “We made a baby Bing, I just know it.”

And if not— there’s four more weeks to make certain.

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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#mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction #masters of the air #mota #harry crosby #anthony boyle #Harry crosby x Jean Crosby #Harry crosby fanfic #Harry crosby imagine #mota smut

[ask-caine]

ok ok what’s yours and moons love story. Beginning to end

OOC POST

It's a bit of a crazy story, actually!

We originally met online through TADC, when she messaged all the Caine accounts she could find for a shitpost "wedding" thing. We ended up hitting it off and talking about random things for a while. It started with my random fact about Kentucky marriage laws and how a couple used them to get married by cocaine bear (hence the below picture)

We ended up learning about a shared interest in plague doctors, as well as discussing several very random topics. Anyways, she invited all the Caines to a discord server, and I ended up being the only one who actually showed up. We would end up talking for hours upon hours day after day there. It was genuinely shocking how much we had in common.

At this point, I had been kinda been picking up on some of the flirtatious undertones behind some of the things she was saying, but I wasn't 100% sure about it yet and was still kinda testing the waters. I'd heard the term love at first sight, and looking back on it, that's pretty much what it felt like. I had been developing a crush on her up to this point, and I kept thinking about her as I was getting ready for bed. I had to keep stopping myself from falling head over heels, reminding myself we barely even knew each other and telling myself "no, she's just being nice. Don't be weird, there's nothing behind this, she's just being friendly."

...As it turned out, she wanted to be a little more than friends... Given my feelings up to this point, I was a little overwhelmed when she told me. I had to take a minute to collect my thoughts, to process everything (hence her jokes about me pulling a Caine and running away). But I liked her, too, and was willing to try a long-distance relationship. So, that's what we did.

It was only a few days after we first got together officially that I told her I loved her. It just felt right. Apparently I caught both of us off-guard with it, since she was sure that she'd be the one who would've said it first. ...We both dived in a little too headfirst from there. From my side of things, it was just so exciting and exhilerating to have this feeling I'd been searching for all my life, and I wanted more of it. We took a step back and both agreed to try and take things at a more reasonable pace from here on out.

We ended up learning a lot about each other. It was like we were the same person, split apart and put in two entirely different situations but turning out the same way anyway. ...This similarity became concerning when we realized we both had the same last name, as well as the fact that we both had Scottish ancestry. But, one family search check later, we confirmed that we are not, in fact, related. Just another insane coincidence that further proves that we were made for each other...

We shared a lot with each other. Our interests, hobbies, ideals, feelings on various topics. Our experiences throughout life, good and bad. The darkest parts of us. Every day, we grew closer. There was no denying that there was something special between us.

That isn't to say everything was perfect. We both still had a lot to learn about ourselves and about each other. There were ups and downs. Things were far from easy. There was a lot of avoidable pain both ways. As time went on, we started to become a little more distant...

Eventually, the stress of life and school and worries and everything going on got to be too much, and she called for us to take a break from the relationship. This hurt, of course... But, taking a break and being done are very different things. I was okay with taking a break, since we would still hang out and such sometimes, just not as romantically.

But, that still wasn't enough. Everything continued to be really stressful, and she felt like she wasn't a net positive in my life and was dragging me down (though the truth was exactly the opposite). So, she decided to fully end the relationship. Which... Really hurt me. Badly.

I kind of fell into a depressive state for a while. I had opened myself up like never before, let myself be more vulnerable than at any point in my life. I had finally found love, the one thing I'd truly wanted all my life, the only thing I've ever needed, and then it was just taken right away. The one thing I feared more than anything else in the world had come to pass.

We would still talk occasionally, but not like before. I already hurt so much, and just talking with her without being able to say the love I still felt was torture for me. So, I distanced myself a bit. I dealt with things on my own. I learned a lot about myself as I came to terms with how things had ended up.

Eventually, I started to feel a little more okay. I knew I could never stop loving her, so I decided to try and turn that love from romantic to platonic and still try to be a friend. Because while I may have lost her, she didn't want me out of her life completely. I could make do as just friends.

But, when I started to come back and we started to talk more again, she realized how much she had been missing me while we were apart. She figured out that some of the things she'd been feeling had been more than she'd realized. She learned that she actually was happier when we were together, and that she still really enjoyed being with me.

So, she began to give little hints again, like before. And, again, I picked up on them, but I didn't want to believe them 100% because of how much I'd been hurt last time. I told myself that she was just showing platonic love, the same way I was. Things would never be the same again. They couldn't be. If I was good for her before, she wouldn't have left...

It was actually Randy who got us actually talking again, first on our blogs, and then regarding what we were being sent. This eventually led to us talking just in general, about all sorts of things... Including what had happened between us. It was emotional, but we both came out of it feeling better about things.

That said, it took until this post before I realized she still loved me and that it was okay to love her back, the way I'd been holding in all this time. We had a heartfelt reunion, though we weren't officially dating again just yet. It still took me a while after that to fully accept everything and let down my guard again, after how much I was still hurting from last time...

But I didn't like the feeling of keeping her away. Of having a barrier between us. I desperately craved that deep, personal connection of love with her again. So, I opened my heart up again. And I'm so incredibly grateful that I did.

Soon after that point, Randy showed up and all those shenanigans ensued. But they only managed to get us talking more about things and uniting against it, which actually brought us even closer together. So, I guess if one good thing's come out of that dumpster fire of stress and stupidity, it's that.

Things have been absolutely wonderful since we got back together. We both learned a lot about ourselves in our time apart, and things have been much better between us. The rocky, uncertain road from before the break had smoothed over. And we fell so much deeper in love the second time.

Add in the stress of the past several weeks, with all the Tumblr drama with these blogs and the hiatus and everything (which I'm not getting into because you can see all that for yourself by looking through our blogs), and you're caught up to the present day. Life is still very stressful for us both, but a lot less so than when we first got together. We understand ourselves and each other so much better, which helps us make less mistakes and treat each other more tenderly and personally in the ways that we need most.

As for the future, immediately after finishing school, I plan to find work and save up to visit her in Canada sometime in the summer. After that is a little hazy at the moment, but we'll figure out our lives and put together a plan to find stable jobs and create a good life for ourselves up there.

And that's it, that's our story. From when we met all the way to the present day. You said beginning to end, but I'm afraid there is no end to our love. The story's still being written. Our lives are still being lived. I hope to be able to add to this years into the future, when we're living together and when we start our own family. But it might still take a while to reach that point.

#pdw x shy #ooc post #love story #lore dump #tadc ask blog #tadc bluetooth #bluetooth tadc #caine tadc #tadc caine #moon x caine #caine x moon #caine x the moon #the moon x caine #idk how to tag this #i hope this is good

[magics-neptunes-things]

One Love (2)

Hello everyone!

After several requests for Luna, here again. The requests can be found here, here and here. I know I haven’t answered all the suggestions you’ve made, but it gives me more ideas for other stories/chapters so it’s pretty cool right?

Also, I have absolutely not reread what I wrote, apologies if there are mistakes.

Enjoy!

TW : Jealousy, suggestive

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5

______________________________________________________________

Lucy was looking at her girlfriend with pride. She was gutted when she learned that her team wasn’t qualified to play the Olympics Games, which was quite understandable. But now in her WAG era, she can’t be anything except proud of her girlfriend. She just has to shoot a glance at Lia to know that she’s proud of her own girlfriend too. Her friendship with her was unexpected to be honest. But when Ona mentioned that she could assist the final of the UEFA National League with the Swiss Woman, Lucy didn’t refuse. She didn’t know personally Lia, but some of her friends did and she always heard good things about her.

And since they had a great time together at Sevilla, Lucy proposed at Lia to watch the game together. They weren’t in the family section, but Lucy is wearing a Spanish jersey with the number 2 and O. Batlle written on the back. She couldn’t be more obvious than that. Lia chooses to be more subtle and was wearing a bracelet with Spanish color and Mariona’s number writing in white.

“She’s looking for you” Lia says to Lucy.

Ona was actually in the pitch, her eyes scanning the crowd. Lucy told her where she will be sat, but it’s difficult to see when the stadium is full like today. Laia Aleixandri came to hug Ona and exchange a few words with her, before starting to look at the crowd too.

“They are so bad at this” Lucy laughs.

“Mario didn’t find me either” Lia smiles.

But it doesn’t really matter, both know that they will find their girlfriends later for the celebration. Ona is disturbed in her research by Aitana, coming to jump on her back and taking her to go to the ceremony and be cover with her gold medals. Another one to add to the Spanish collection.

With a pout on her face, Ona let Aitana take her by the arm, leading her where they’re supposed to be. But Ona turns her head one last time and that’s when she saw her. Her face light up in an almost funny way and Lucy just wave at her. Ona wave back, making a heart with her hands before following Aitana, her heart lighter now.

***

Almost two hours later, Ona can finally go to the room where their family and friends are. She just out of the shower and her hair are still wet from it, but she just wants to see her girlfriend. She thought that now that they both live in Barcelona being away from her will be less difficult. How was she wrong. Being apart from Lucy is harder everyday and she can’t remember how she survived the long-distance relationship at first. Her being in Manchester and Lucy in Barcelona, they were way more apart than together. Even if they managed to have quality time, like the day when Lucy went to see her play, it was hard. And she was missing Lucy a lot.

Lucy’s smiling when she saw Ona and the younger one can’t resist and almost jump in her arms. She saw an edit of her almost crashing in Lucy’s arms at each beginning of games and Lucy teased her a lot about it.

This time, the English woman pick her and squeeze her hard in her arms, lifting her feet off the ground a few centimeters. Ona laughs and put a kiss in her neck, before being putting on the ground again.

“You were amazing. Like always. I’m so proud of you Ona, I swear” mumbles Lucy, stroking Ona’s cheek.

The brunette blushes, unable to keep looking at her girlfriend. Her smile is wide anyway and Lucy has to work on herself not to kiss her like crazy right now. She knows those kinds of kisses will come later, in their hotel room. Or Ona’s hotel room, in which Lucy intends to impose herself tonight.

“I love you” whispers Lucy in Ona’s hear after taking her against her one more time.

Ona looks at her this time, still with her big smile on her face.

“I love you too, Luce. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for one million. Plus, I have my new bestie now.”

Ona follows Lucy gaze on Lia and Mariona, standing a few meters from them, and chuckle lightly. And, because she’s still in her girlfriend’s arms, she lets herself go a little more against Lucy. The dark hair woman kiss her hair softly before releasing her.

“Go say hi to your family, your brother is here and I think he misses you. I’ll try those margaritas. I see you later superstar.”

Ona pouts but let Lucy push her in the right direction. To be honest, she missed her brother, her sister-in-law and her parents too. She went for them under Lucy’s gaze, before the English woman went to the bar.

Lucy let Ona enjoy her night with her teammates and family, even if she knows a lot of them. She’s happy for the Spanish team, a lot of them are her friends too after all. She talks with Jenni with whom she hasn’t had much exchange since her departure for Mexico, but which she is happy to meet again.

She talked with Mariona too, Cata and Aitana. It’s only when she’s talking to Alexia about the new restaurant in their neighborhood that she feels a twist in her stomach.

“You’re not watching your girl, Bronzey?” asks Jenni with a smirk, cutting their conversation.

Frowning, Lucy immediately looks for Ona’s figure in the crowd. She spots her quickly in a corner of the room, talking with someone. Well Lucy wouldn’t have a problem with Ona talking to someone, but this someone having their hand on her girlfriend, it’s something else.

“Who’s this?” she asks Alexia.

The blonde looks in the same direction before answering. She frowns too and it piques Lucy’s curiosity. Usually, Alexia knows everyone, even from afar. No matter who this girl is, she still has a hand on Ona’s shoulder and holds her hand with the second.

The English girl feels her blood bubbling in her veins. She was never jealous before Ona, she was more the kind of girl who can let her girlfriend for a two weeks journey without her. She can’t even imagine this kind of things with Ona. It’s not that she didn’t trust her girlfriend, she knows Ona would never do anything like that. But she didn’t trust the world, who doesn’t seem to be able to resist Ona’s charm.

Lucy’s jaw is tightened when Ona looks up in her direction. But Lucy realizes immediately the look of distress from Ona. She didn’t need more, putting her glass in Jenni’s hands before crossing the room to take her girlfriend back.

“Hola” Lucy says when she’s next to Ona.

She heard them talking in Catalan and thanks to Ona, her Catalan is way better than it was before. Next to her, Ona seems to be relaxing and it’s only now that she’s by her side that Lucy realizes how uncomfortable her girlfriend was.

“Hola mi Vida” Ona smiles, before turning at Lucy’s opponent “Lucy, this is Maria. Maria, you know Lucy?”

Lucy can’t say if it’s because of her burning look, but the named Maria release Ona almost immediately, to their relief. Still keeping her eyes on Maria, Lucy takes Ona by her waist, dragging her against her body. But Ona let her do it, knowing how much Lucy can struggle with her jealousy sometimes.

Lucy learns that this Maria is here because she’s a great friend from Atheana and as Ona and Maria talked, she didn’t let Ona go. Ona’s hand finds their way to Lucy’s back pocket, the English woman smirking at the movement.

Atheana finally comes to take her friend back and If Ona says goodbye, Lucy only responds with a vague gesture of the head. Ona let a sigh of relief go, sticking against Lucy.

“Thanks for coming for me” Ona whispers.

But Lucy only grumbles, still looking at Maria who is now talking to Teresa. She only takes her eyes away from her when Ona kisses her jaw.

“Who was this bitch touching you?”

Ona flinches a little at the question, dragging Lucy’s attention once again. She doesn’t want to hide anything to her though, so she answers with all her sincerity.

“Maria. We… Well, we had a thing, some years ago” Ona confesses, looking carefully at Lucy’s face.

Lucy knows she doesn’t have the right to be jealous, Ona had a life before her, and she knows it. But still. Having her brain picturing her girlfriend with someone else is always something very disturbing for her.

“And why your ex thinks it’s ok to touch you the way she did?” Lucy groans

“I don’t know. I try to escape her grip but when I took a step back, she moved forward by two.” Ona answers, still looking deeply at Lucy, before asking. “Do you maybe want some fresh air?”

“Yes please”

Without waiting a little more, Ona takes Lucy’s hand to drag her outside. It was cold now that the night is well advanced and Ona shivers almost immediately. Lucy sees it, of course, and opens her arms in invitation for her girlfriend. The younger one doesn’t hesitate to stick to Lucy, who then tightens her arms around her, locking her with her in her jacket.

Rocking themselves lightly, Lucy let her lips slide along Ona’s temple. The Spaniard has her face against Lucy neck and really thinks she can fall asleep just like that. She can smell and feel Lucy everywhere and it’s her favorite place to be.

“When was it?” Lucy asks suddenly.

“What?” Ona mumbles almost sleepily, pulling her face out of Lucy’s neck.

“You and this… Maria”

“Oh. It was way before you.”

“Well, I hope so. I’d have to kill her otherwise.”

Ona giggles lightly, kissing her girlfriend softly on her lips. She missed this feeling too, Lucy’s lips are way softer than she expects at first. And she loves it.

“It was before Feli. In like 2018, 2019 I think” answers Ona after the kiss, playing with Lucy’s baby hair on her neck.

“And why didn’t it work with her?”

Her tone was less aggressive now, Lucy being genuinely intrigued by the answer. Ona almost never talks about her past relationships; Lucy isn’t even sure that she can name all of Ona’s exes.

“I don’t really know” Ona answers “We were young and the long-distance relationship wasn’t really for us. At the end we were just fighting for everything, anytime. It was really tiring honestly. She was the one who broke up, but it was definitely better this way.”

Lucy hums, looking at her girlfriend with a thoughtful gaze. Ona didn’t take hers away, her arms still around her neck. But then Lucy seems to come back to herself and tighten her arms around Ona’s waist.

“Well, she had her chance. Now you’re mine.”

********

Hours later, Lucy’s watching Ona came back to reality under her, a smirk on her face. They had their personal celebration after the official, Lucy following Ona in her hotel room. They didn’t really ask the permission to be honest, but as soon as the door was close behind them, nothing mattered.

Letting Ona catch her breath again, Lucy kisses slowly her cheeks, her nose, her neck and every part of her face. Soon after she can feel Ona smiling under her lips and that’s the moment when she kisses her lips.

“You okay Princesa?” she whispers against her lips.

“Couldn’t be better” Ona mumbles. “You?”

“More than that” Lucy assures her.

Ona smiles but doesn’t let Lucy gets up from the bed when the English woman try to, wrapping her hands around Lucy’s body. Even under the explanation that she was just going to get them a bottle of water, Ona doesn’t release her.

“I had to live almost a month without you. Don’t hope to take a step without me being less than fifty centimeters from you.”

Lucy laughs, lying again with the Spaniard in her bed. She lets Ona’s hand stroke her body, with much more tenderness and much less eagerness and almost despair than some minutes ago.

They look at each other, each of them in her own head. Ona is thinking about their time together from the beginning, the first time they really talked at Lucy Stanisford’s wedding. How she blushed when she cross Lucy’s eyes an awful number of times during the night, before Lucy came to talk to her. They immediately click together, like to part of the same orange. Lucy was everything she always wished for and she never has been so happy in her life before her.

In Lucy’s head, however…

“I’m going to marry you, one day.”

“What?”

In fact, Ona perfectly understood the words that have just passed Lucy’s lips.

“I’m going to marry you, one day.”

Lucy does not hesitate to repeat herself, without leaving Ona’s face. It’s not a question, rather an information she gives to Ona. The brunette didn’t answer at first, before biting her lips.

“Don’t say that” she whispers.

“Why?” Lucy says, a little louder than Ona “I thought you wanted to get married?”

They had this conversation some weeks ago and Ona confessed her desire to get married with Lucy and having a family with her too. It was something Lucy wanted to too, so Ona’s reaction is a little hard to understand for her at this moment.

“I do” the Spaniard answers, taking one of Lucy’s hands in hers to play with her fingers. “But my abuela always said not to talk about the things we want too often because it attracts the evil eye or bad luck. And what you just said... there’s nothing I want more than that."

Lucy holds back from rolling eyes in front of so much superstition, content to deposit a delicate kiss on the lips of her girlfriend.

"There is no evil eye, no bad luck, no one who will stop us. Don’t worry about that."

It’s hard for Ona not to believe what Lucy just said. Although the words were whispered, there is such a strength of conviction in each of them that Ona cannot doubt it.

"I love you, Ona. I love you so much and I swear I will fight for us every day of my life if I have to. You are my everything, no one will ever take that away from you."

Ona’s crying now, overwhelmed by so much love. She takes Lucy’s face between her hands and kiss her with all the love, the affection and the passion she has for her. She’s not sure that it proves almost the half of all her feelings, but she try.

And she will try maybe a lot of time more this same night.

#woso imagine #ona batlle #woso fanfics #ona batlle imagine #ona batlle x lucy bronze #lucy bronze x ona batlle #lucy bronze #lucy bronze imagine

[soulfireblue]

i have so many thoughts about phil and sunny and tubbo and this is going under a read more because it got really long lol

disclaimer that i don't watch phil super often! i watch qsmp with a crow friend who keeps me updated on his streams, so he's probably one of the characters i'm most familiar with outside of tubbo, but that's obviously not quite the same as me directly watching his streams. also this is only my interpretation and understanding of the characters, of course!

Phil is a bit of a hermit and doesn't know the other eggs that well; Chayanne and Tallulah are actually more social than their dad is. There are very few people on this island that Phil is actually close to, and Tubbo is one of them. That's kind of a double-edged sword when it comes to Phil's relationship with Sunny.

Phil kind of tends to extrapolate his relationship with Tubbo onto Sunny, because he doesn't know her well enough to realize that what works for him and Tubbo is not going to work for him and Sunny. It becomes a cycle, because Phil unknowingly does or says something that hurts Sunny, and then Sunny avoids being alone with him, so he doesn't get to know her well enough to realize that the way he treats Tubbo is not how Sunny wants or needs to be treated.

This sets up a really interesting conflict and character dynamic here, especially because Tubbo is also extrapolating his own relationship with Phil onto Sunny. He doesn't really understand that Sunny has issues with Phil, because when he and Sunny are with Phil, he's usually focused more on his own interactions with Phil and the godkids' than Sunny's. Plus it's not like Tubbo and Sunny are often with Phil alone; usually Chayanne and Tallulah are there too, and there's not much reason for Sunny to be needing to interact with Phil one-on-one.

And while Sunny has told Tubbo a little bit about how they feel with Phil, he's also observed them having issues with Tallulah, Leo, and even Richas now, and he's also watched those issues clear up. There's no reason for Tubbo to assume that her issues with Phil are any different. The nature of Tubbo's role as a buffer between Sunny and Phil means that he hasn't been able to observe the interactions that caused the problem. If Tubbo's there, Tubbo's the one they're both interacting with more just due to the fact that he's more present in both of their lives.

But here's the thing with Phil being a hermit. The issue isn't just his relationship with Tubbo; it's also that his children always come first. We've seen that even before we met Sunny. He was completely convinced that he had to win Purgatory because no one would be looking out for his kids except himself, not realizing that the leader of Soulfire was trying to get back the exact same eggs. For Phil, it's extremely black and white.

And so when he's alone with Sunny, when he's looking at her as an egg rather than as Tubbo's daughter, he puts his kids first. He's happy to do whatever he can to help. He collected items for cookies for all of the eggs on the island for a reason! He cares a lot about the eggs, even from a distance. He's just not the type of person to wait to feed his kids until the other kids are fed too, because his first priority has to be Chayanne and Tallulah.

But his limit is anything that could put his own family at risk. Which is understandable! He has two kids to look out for. But Phil is extremely pragmatic, and so he tells Sunny exactly the truth. She can stay with him, but his kids come first. Tallulah has been hurt, so her feelings come first. He's very good at making sure his kids are taken care of, and he's very good at weighing the risks, and he's honest about it once he has.

Which would maybe be perfectly fine for some other eggs, but the thing is, Phil doesn't know Sunny. He's treating her the exact opposite of the way she needs to be treated, but he doesn't know her well enough to realize it. He's spent a lot of time around her without actually getting to know her, because there's always that Tubbo and Chayanne buffer. So he doesn't realize that they don't need to be treated the way he treats Tubbo. She needs to be treated the way he treats Tallulah. They need to be told that it's okay to feel scared and abandoned, and that they are loved, and that someone will always be there for them.

(Chayanne does realize that. He's a very good godbrother.)

I hope someday Phil will get to know Sunny better and realize better ways to communicate with her, though I do understand that there will always be the issue of his kids coming first, while Sunny desperately needs people who put her first. (And gosh, how awful must it have been for them to lose Creation, who called them rank one, and told them they were loved, and then left them just like everybody else.) They'll never have the relationship Tubbo has with Phil's kids, and that's okay. But I hope that Sunny can one day look at Phil and know that she is loved, even if it's not exactly the kind of love she's been searching for.

#qsmp #tubbo #qsmp tubbo #qsmp sunnysideup #sunnysideup #qsmp sunny #qsmp philza #qsmp ph1lza #philza #ph1lza #this is not meant as neg to any of the characters btw it's just character analysis #thus why i've put it in the tags #i love all of these characters and i'm happy to discuss them in further depth :D

[lovelyiida]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬.

KATSUKI BAKUGO X SECRETARY READER

A 500 FOLLOWERS SERIES!

❥ SYNOPSIS: as the years went by, bakugo realized that he was the last to get married. the days grew cold and the nights turned lonely. bakugo wants to marry, but he doesn't really feel like falling in love. at least he has his trustee secretary!

❥: CHAPTERS

❥ WARNINGS: implied fem reader, aged-up! Pro-hero MHA characters over the age of 27, vulgar language, suggestive wording and content

❥ MASTERLIST

❥ JOIN TAG LIST!

WORDS: 4.8K

CHAPTER 6: PASS THE SALT

“You know what they say about secretaries..."

"A what?"

The revelation hit like an unfathomable wave, leaving Katsuki in utter shock and embarrassment. His words slipped out uncontrollably, and he hung his head low, attempting to collect himself before facing his parents' reactions.

With just a grunt escaping him, the blonde struggled to conjure up a somewhat plausible response. "Just… don't freak out. I've been meaning to say this for a while now, just couldn't find the time."

Deep into his face, palms buried, he rubbed his eyes, attempting to shake himself from the grave he had unwittingly dug.

"How long have you guys been dating? I mean, we're happy, right?" Bakugo's father sought assurance from his wife, but all he received was a long stare.

"Um, I've known her for a while, I guess—"

"Ya' guess? What's that supposed to mean?" Mitsuki interjected, a little disheveled from the news, trying her hardest to take things step by step.

"Please, let him speak," his father interjected.

Another loud pause set into motion, catching Katsuki off guard as he had not anticipated bringing up the topic of you that day. "We were talking, then we started to hang out, started to go out, and the rest was history—"

"What happened to not having time to do anything, since you're, y'know… putting our safety first?" Mitsuki quipped at the hero.

"I can still go out and find love; I'm not some sad and lonely prick!" Katsuki yelled. "If it makes you feel any better, she's my secretary. Still ass-deep in my work."

Katsuki's response earned a scoff from his mother. "I just don't understand why you couldn't tell us about this, of all things. These matters are very important. You didn't even ask for our blessing, Katsuki," she said.

He could tell by the tone of her voice that she was hurt, almost feeling a sense of betrayal. One of the most important moments of her son's life has passed and she wasn't a part of it.

"I want to meet her," she says, Katsuki's breath hitches.

Katsuki swallowed hard, the weight of the situation sinking in. He lifted his head, meeting his mother's gaze, and nodded hesitantly.

"Yeah, uh. I'll bring her over sometime soon. You can meet her, ask whatever the hell you want," he mumbled, trying to keep the conversation under control.

Mitsuki folded her arms, a mix of concern and curiosity etched across her face. "You better not be hiding anything else, Katsuki. We're your parents; we deserve to know what's going on in your life."

Bakugo's father, still trying to process the information, chimed in with a more composed tone. "Son, we just want to understand and be a part of your life. If you're serious about her, then we should support you. But communication is key. You can't just shut us out."

Katsuki sighed, "Yeah, I get it. I messed up, I'll tell her you wanna talk"

His mother's expression softened slightly, though traces of concern lingered. "Good. We're not here to judge; we just want what's best for you."

The tension in the room began to ease as the family started to navigate this unexpected revelation. As the married couple soon go their separate ways, Katsuki storms out of the house. Heading to his car, he jumps in with force.

"Fuck, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?" Looking out towards the distance he lays back into the seat with a drafted sigh. The blonde thinks hard about the decision he's made. He didn't want to rope you into the situation though he didn't have a choice. The old bats wouldn't get off his case (Katsuki self-sabotages quite often).

How the hell is he gonna break this down to you?

"He went to see his mom and dad?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

The redhead nods nervously, his hand reaching over to fiddle with the closest plant in range. The room falls into an awkward silence, and you find yourself shrugging in response. "Okay? I just don't understand why he couldn't tell me that..."

A thought crosses your mind, "It would've saved me a lot of trouble," you muse to yourself.

"It was so sudden, Ms. L/n, we had no idea—" Riot's explanation gets cut short by the sudden buzz of his phone. With a jolt, he quickly grabs it and stares at the screen. His eyes scan the messages with vigor as he quietly reads the words to himself. You can't help but be curious, "Is that Dynamight?" you ask.

The redhead's eyes shoot up to you for a split second, and then he continues reading. With a quick sigh, he places his phone down and puts his hand up against his temples, squeezing with firm resolve. "Uh... yeah, that was him."

Concern flickers in your eyes as you press further, "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah! everything's fine; it's just Monday, y'know?" he says with an offputting chuckle. Your eyes narrow at him for a split second before scanning the room to check the clock.

"Well, thank you for your kindness, Mr. Riot, but I should get going. I have a meeting with my queen-sized bed." You chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood. Giving the office cat one more affectionate pet, you rise out of your seat with ease and turn towards the door.

"Wait!"

Red Riot's voice booms through the room, causing you (and the cat) to jolt in surprise. "Dynamight's on his way; he really needs to see you," he says quickly. As you blink to process the information he just shared, you can't help but let out a defeated sigh. "So close," you whisper to yourself. Releasing the doorknob, you turn around, putting on your best business-coded smile.

"Sure, just tell him I'll be in his office." Turning back around, you head out the door and walk through the proclaimed hero's office. It's striking to see how night and day the two offices are. The aesthetics shift from sleek and black to relaxed and colorful.

Even the attitudes of the workers differ; they actually seem like they want (or at least don't mind) to do their job. The atmosphere is palpably different, and you find yourself absorbing the contrasting energies as you navigate through the hero's domain.

As you traverse back to the boss's office, you smoothly enter his main office, somewhat savoring the familiar ambiance as you feel a little bittersweet about being back at the office. You begin to unpack your things and get straight into work.

One hour passes, the minutes ticking away in a rhythmic dance.

Two hours pass, each moment blending into the next, creating a seamless continuum.

Three hours pass; you tiredly watch the passage of time marked by the silent ticking of the clock on the wall. A rather substantial chunk of time has passed since Red Riot mentioned that Dynamight was on his way. And you're mad as hell.

You completed everything you needed to an hour ago and decided to sit and wait just for good measure.

But now, impatience gnaws at you. Huffing, you quickly gather your things and head out of the office. Taking the elevator down to the parking garage, you aimlessly walk towards the chauffeur, the air heavy with anticipation as you slip into the sleek vehicle.

You know you're not exactly allowed to use the chauffeur, but fatigue has settled into your bones, and you simply don't feel like dealing with the hassle of taking a cab back home. As the chauffeur skillfully maneuvers through the city's nocturnal labyrinth, you find solace in the gentle hum of the engine.

Finally dropped off at your apartment, you collapse into the welcoming embrace of your bed.

Another couple of hours have passed since you left work. Glancing at the clock, a sense of worry creeps in as 10 pm emerges. "Must've been a serious conversation," you ponder. Out of habit, you pull out your phone and mindlessly text your boss.

TO: Dynamight (BOSS)

Riot told me where you were.

Next time… just tell me not to come in.

Placing the phone down, you continue watching mind-numbing daytime TV reruns. "I wonder if he thinks I'm some joke," you say aloud. Anger quietly simmers in your stomach as you shift your feet around, attempting to find comfort in the folds of your bed.

Not even five minutes later, Dynamight answers your text.

Picking up your phone, your eyes widen at his text.

FROM: Dynamight (BOSS)

outside

we need to talk.

Oh, this is serious…

Jolting out of your bed, a rush of adrenaline propels you to the window, where you cautiously peek outside. There he is, waiting at your door. Surprisingly, he looks a tad bit nervous, perhaps uneasy?

Shutting your blinds, you slip on your house shoes and stomp towards the door. Opening it with a swift motion, you look at the hero. He meets your gaze, appearing tired and somewhat defeated as you begin to let loose on him.

"You need to be more considerate of people's time and what they're going through! Do you even know what I went through today? Well, I ended up in your buddy's office today, okay—"

"Please, L/n… just let me in," the blonde's voice rasps at you. Blinking, you notice how unfazed he looks as you stop your scolding. Quietly cursing under your breath, you hold the door open for him to come in.

As the blonde enters your place, he takes off his shoes and sits at the dining room table. Your boss's demeanor today is unusual compared to how you've seen him before. He looks almost vulnerable to you.

"You want anything to drink?" you say quietly. The blonde rolls his neck and then looks you in the eyes. "Got beer?" he says. You quietly nod and go into the kitchen to get him a beer.

"Get yourself one too; you're gonna need it," he says, the last part just below a whisper. You hum in agreement and grab the beers. Sliding one to him, he grabs it and cracks it open with vigor.

You watch as your boss quickly gulps down the contents, as you only take a small swig. Placing your drink down you look at him concerned.

"What did you need to talk about?" you say softly.

"Um… listen," you watch as the blonde shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He lets out a deep sigh, placing his hands into his pockets, and his head hangs low.

"So, I talked to my parents today—"

"I know that—"

"I was talkin' to them, you know… how parents are. They get on your ass when they need to, and they were definitely on mine. My mom said some things, and I got upset. I started to blabber a whole bunch of shit for no reason—"

"I'm having a hard time figuring out what the issue is. So you're being held accountable?" you say, confused. You watch as he clenches his fist and closes his eyes, trying his absolute hardest not to explode in anger right then and there.

"As… I began to ramble, I brought you up, and I told my parents that you're my girlfriend… we're engaged." He says defeatedly, a long pause of silence goes by as you stare at your boss, absolutely dumbfounded.

What?

"WHAT!"

Jumping up from your seat, you start to pace around the kitchen in anger. "I can't even look at you right now— are you serious?" you turn towards him, eyes wide, and lips turned upward in anger.

"C'mon, it's not that serious—"

"Not that serious? Are you messing with me?" you say outraged.

"L/n, please just sit down so we can talk this out—"

"Talk this out? No, I don't wanna say anything to you. God, how could you do this? It's like I'm not even a person to you; like I'm just a toy that you continuously beat against a hardwood table over, and over, and over—"

"L/n!" Dynamight's voice roars over yours, and you flinch at the sound. The rhythmic sound of your breaths huffing is the only sound that penetrates through the air.

"Okay, fine. We can talk, but I'm not sitting down," you say sternly, which makes the blonde roll his eyes. You hear him mumble a quiet "whatever," which almost sets you right back into another frenzy.

Fighting the urge to escalate, you take a deep breath and continue to pace, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.

"My parents want to meet you tomorrow, is that okay?" he dares to ask. You wanted to say something witty, something that would tick him off, but you started to go into deep thought.

"Give him a taste of how he's treated you, Y/n; the time is now."

Turning to face him, you look at him with no emotion. "Okay, that's fine," you say. This throws your boss off guard, "uh, are you sure? You seemed pretty against it literally three seconds ago—"

"No… I think it's fine. I know we talked about taking things slow, but it's whatever," you say defeatedly. You watch as the blond takes his hands out of his pockets and places a box out and in front of you.

"You'll need this," he says.

Eyes tracing down from his hand and onto the box, your stomach drops to your ass in a heartbeat.

An engagement ring.

"I'm not forcing you to put it on right now, but just have it on before I see you tomorrow," he says. You aimlessly nod, eyes still glued to the ring. You hear your boss stand from his chair with a screech and walk towards you.

"You don't need to memorize my favorite color or whatever the heck—just be present and actually act as if you're interested, please?" he pleads with you. You hum with a silent nod.

"I'll let myself out," the hero mumbles.

After a few moments, you hear the door close and the sound of his car speeding off into the night. The room is left in silence, filled with the weight of unexpected developments and the promise of an imminent meeting with Dynamight's parents.

Sitting back down at the table, you grab the velvet box. Opening it, you can't help but let out a gasp. The ring is absolutely beautiful, looking way too expensive to be just a regular engagement ring. Taking it out of the box, you can't help but marvel at its beauty.

"I always thought later in my life I would be proposed to a little bit differently…" you chuckle to yourself, unable to help feeling a little bittersweet at the moment you're currently experiencing. The unexpected turn of events, coupled with the striking beauty of the ring, creates a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within you.

Sighing, you place your head down on the table, feeling the cold wood press against your skin. Closing your eyes, you didn't know what to think or feel—you were just there.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you look so… fancy?"

Currently sitting inside your "fiancé's" car, you're being berated once more for no exact reason. "I just thought that since I'm meeting your parents and all that I would dress nice," you say unbothered as you fix up your makeup in the passenger mirror.

"Plus, I bought this a year ago; m'not letting it collect dust."

You hear the blonde let out a drawn-out sigh, before you knew it, you felt a surprisingly soft hand wrap around your wrist. Looking over, you see him stare at the ring on your finger.

Swallowing your spit, you look over at his hand.

No ring.

"And where's your ring?" you say sternly. "It's right here," he mumbles as he reaches into his armrest. "I was gonna put it on but… I didn't know which finger to put the stupid thing on," he says.

You chuckle at his words as you grab the box from his hand and open it. He chose a pretty nice ring for himself also. Taking the ring out of the holder, you grab his hand and slowly slip the ring on.

"There," you speak softly.

"Thanks," the hero mumbles before quickly snatching his hand away from your grasp and placing them on the steering wheel. Quickly driving off.

Looking at the sights, you see the transitions from the bustling, busy city life to a quiet suburban city. You watch as the hero drives around the town, memorizing every turn and every stop.

Sometimes he would tell you a story about him from childhood whenever he would see a certain park or store. It was nice.

But that "nice" feeling in your body soon turned into anxiety as you watch the car turn down a neighborhood road. The neighborhood is nice, beautiful homes with nicely trimmed grass. This is a place you'd see yourself growing up in if your family actually had the money to.

As the car slows to a stop, you park outside the home of your boss's parents. Swallowing your spit, you nervously play with your ring before looking up at the blonde.

"Hey," he says, and you lift your eyebrows in response.

“Call me Katsuki.”

Your eyes widen at the thought of already starting a first-name basis. "Okay, you can call me Y/n," you say. Katsuki nods at your words, "nice name" he mumbles (he's too bashful to be authentically nice).

"Thanks, you have a nice name too," you say.

"Thanks."

A beat passes before you then watch the blonde hop out of the car and walk over to your side. Opening your door, he holds out his hand for you. Looking at his hand for a moment, you press your lips into a line before grabbing it softly.

Interlacing your fingers with the pro-hero, you didn't know what waves of emotions were going through you at the moment. You felt like a high school girl going on her first date.

You notice once more how soft his hands were. Who knew hands that were known to brutally fight against evil and maintain justice and peace in the city were so...soft.

Taking your other hand and placing it on his arm, the both of you walk side by side to the front door. As Katsuki rings the doorbell, you squeeze his hand.

"You'll be fine."

You silently nod before hearing the door unlock. As the door swings open, you're met with a man with brunette hair and glasses who looks exactly like your fiancé. Thus, none other than his father, of course.

"Oh, hello!" he says pleasantly with a soft smile. Unraveling yourself from Katsuki's grasp, you reach out to shake. "Hi, Mr..." your brain paused for a moment.

"Bakugo, Mr. Bakugo, dear," he says with a chuckle. Shaking his hand, he gives you a firm shake before letting you go. You smile as you revert to resting your hands at your center.

"Or you could call me Dad, or Mr. Dad—"

"Please, old man," Katsuki groans. This earns a quiet chuckle out of you.

"Please come in," he says awkwardly, motioning you to follow. As you step into the house, you can't help but quietly speak as you feel the warm touch of Katsuki's hand ghosting around your waist.

As the both of you settle in, you can't help but look at every corner of the house. The modern home was everything you thought it would be. Sleek design yet a homey color palette; you wish this was your childhood home.

Your eyes grazed over framed photographs capturing moments of joy from the pro-hero's childhood. A part of you still didn't believe you were seeing the things you were seeing today.

As you move through the house, Katsuki's father engages in casual conversation, sharing anecdotes and stories about their family. The initial nervousness begins to subside as you find yourself being drawn into the easygoing charm of the Bakugo family.

The living room, adorned with plush furniture and warm hues, invites you to take a seat. Katsuki, still by your side, maintains a protective presence that brings a sense of comfort.

"Dinner will be ready soon. Why don't you make yourselves comfortable?" Mr. Bakugo suggests with a warm smile, leaving you and Katsuki alone for a moment.

The two of you find a spot on the couch, and as you sit together, the air is filled with a mix of anticipation and the gentle hum of family life. Katsuki's hand finds yours again, offering silent reassurance amidst the subtle excitement of the evening.

"He's nice," you mumble softly at Katsuki, which earns a humorous scoff from him. "Yeah, he's too nice, maybe he actually took his meds today," the blonde says. You silently mouth an "oh" before looking around the room some more.

Suddenly, you catch a glimpse of Katsuki's mother in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the meal. She also looks just like him; you watch as her eyes match up with yours. Before you could politely bow or smile, her eyes were off of you.

Looking back down into your hands, Katsuki immediately tells that something is off. "Hey, don't mind the old hag; she's just in her feelings." You breathe in, trying to register your emotions and the "old hag" quip.

"Yeah, but I mean, she has every right to act the way she's acting. If I didn't know my son was getting married—let alone had a girlfriend until it's basically time for them to say their vows—I would feel a type of way as well."

Katsuki rolls his eyes as he attempts to place his hand on your thigh. But you turn away from him with a frown. Before the blonde could say anything else, "Mr. Dad" comes walking through.

"Hey, kids, the food is ready," he says with a smile.

You nod before looking back at Katsuki. As the both of you walk towards the dining table, Katsuki pulls out your chair and helps you sit down. As you settle down, you hear a quiet scoff in the distance. Already gathering that scoff was owned by his mother.

Looking down, you stare at the food placed before you. The aroma wafts through the air, and you can't help but smile. "Wow, this looks amazing! I haven't had a home-cooked meal in so long, thank you."

"No need." Looking up, you notice another figure sitting on the opposite side of the table. "Hello, Mrs. Bakugo," you say with a soft bow.

Nothing in return.

Looking over at Katsuki, you could sharpen a dozen kitchen sets with the look he just gave his own mother. The tension in the room becomes palpable, and you find yourself navigating the delicate balance of emotions while trying to enjoy the anticipated family dinner.

As the family gathers around the table, you notice the strained atmosphere between Katsuki and his mother. The unspoken tension hangs in the air, creating an undercurrent that makes you tread carefully with each bite.

You exchange glances with Katsuki, silently acknowledging the situation of family dynamics. Despite the awkwardness, you decide to break the ice by engaging in conversation with Mr. Bakugo.

"So, how did the two of you meet?" he asks. Looking over at Katsuki stuffing his face with rice, you look back over at his father with a bashful smile.

"We met at work; I'm his secretary," you say with a chuckle. Katsuki's dad lets out a chuckle along with you. You also notice that his mother is chuckling too. As she looks into your eyes with a mischievous smile, her eyes glaze over at her husband.

"You know what they say about secretaries…"

"Which is?" you look over at Katsuki, throwing mental daggers at his mother. She swallows her food and chuckles, "I'm just saying! Clearly, you have a type."

"Keep pushin' me; old dirty hag," Katsuki spits venom with every word that comes out of his mouth. Your eyes widen at the vulgarity of the words he chose. Placing your hand above your mouth in shock.

"Or what? Little bastard—"

"Okay!" Mr. Bakugo yells out.

All eyes snap towards him.

"Mitsuki, do you have any other questions for Y/n?" he says anxiously.

A moment of silence passes before she speaks again.

"Where are you from?" she asks.

"I'm from (hometown)," you respond.

"Education?"

"I'm a college graduate in hero analysis and communications."

"How old are you?"

"27, ma'am…28 in (birth month)."

"How many kids are you willing to have with my son?" she suddenly asks. This makes Katsuki and his father choke on their food, sending you aback, and a warmth grows on your cheeks.

"Oh, what? It's not like they haven't had sex before!" she argues.

"Well—"

"Well, what? You're celibate?" She questions; you look over at Katsuki before quietly nodding. "Oh wow, I guess he's really in it for the long haul." Mitsuki sips her drink before going on another brigade of questions for you.

By the end of dinner, things were…okay? You believe you made a good impression on Mr. Bakugo. His mother, on the other hand, was a whole different case.

Soon, you and Katsuki were in the kitchen washing dishes while the older couple sat on the couch to converse. The clinking of dishes serves as a backdrop to the muffled conversation in the living room. The warmth of the water and the shared task provide a brief respite from the earlier intensity.

As you scrub a plate, Katsuki breaks the silence. "Sorry about that, she can be a real pain in the ass."

You look over at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's okay, I can handle it. Besides, I'm getting to know your family."

He grumbles in response, his usual tough exterior softening for a moment. The rhythmic sound of washing dishes continues, and you can't help but feel a sense of unity, even in the midst of familial complexities.

"It's not okay; she's never acted like that towards a guest ever, and it's you of all people," he says. You can tell through the tone of his voice that he's genuinely upset. You watch closely as he washes off some scum from a knife with his fingers.

"You didn't deserve that—god, she can be such a bitch—ah, shit!" Katsuki curses as he holds out his finger. He didn't realize, through his fit of anger, that he'd cut his finger.

Your eyes widen at the sight.

"What's going on in there?" You hear Mitsuki yell out.

"K-Katsuki?" You stumble with your words.

"Damn it, sorry," he mumbles.

"I'm fine, there's a first aid kit under the sink."

Quickly grabbing the kit, you come to his aid. Carefully bandaging up his finger. "Katsuki, I promise I've gone through worse. This is only a nib in the bud," you reassure him.

Finishing up the bandage, you place the first aid kit back under the sink. Looking back up at the blonde, you softly smile, placing your hand on his arm before glancing back over.

As you look over, you see Mitsuki staring into your soul, but this time neither of you breaks contact. "Did you guys want to stay for dessert?" Katsuki's father follows up.

The both of you look over at him, and you begin to speak, "Um—"

"Nah, early patrol and an interview tomorrow," Katuski speaks as he sneaks an arm around your waist. "Mm, yeah. That also translates to a lot of paperwork and notes for me," you attempt to make a joke to lighten the air.

This earns a chuckle from the father, "Well, let us lead you out."

As the four of you head towards the door, you watch Katsuki from the corner of your eye get a pat on the back from his father and a thumbs-up, mouthing "I like her" before he slips away from him.

Before leaving, the both of you turn and bow. "It was nice seeing you both for the first time. I hope to come here more often; the food was great."

"Anytime Y/n, the pleasure is ours."

As the both of you turn away hand in hand, you're stopped by a gasp of your wrist. "I'd like to give you a couple of words," says Mitsuki.

"Oh—"

"Whatever you say to her, you can say to me," Katsuki says sternly. His mother rolls her eyes, "Oh, please go to the car; I'm not gonna bite her head off!" She complains.

You give Katsuki an assuring glance before letting him go to the car. Facing his mother, you expect the worst. "Yes?" you say.

She lets out a sigh before she speaks, looking at you with almost a pitiful look. “I don’t know if you’re a good fit for my son yet, but I can tell you care for him. And that’s what matters the most.”

She then places her hand to touch yours, lifts your hand, and observes your ring. "Y'know I was staring at this the whole night? I just can't believe it."

Staring down at the ring, you nod your head in agreement.

"Me either."

I HOPE YOU ALL LIKED IT!! THE FIRST HALF OF THIS BOOK IS COMPLETE! ONLY 6 MORE CHAPTERS LEFT!

— lovelyiida

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