#THANK YOU FOR TALKING TO ME ABOUT ART IT BRINGS ME SO MUCH JOY
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rudnitskaia · 10 months ago
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White Chrysanths for the Swallow
Rocky was waiting for her at the table at the Little Daisy, but this time he was especially eager. Even Ivy had stopped teasing him about the way he lighted up and hummed to himself as he waited for Mau to show up at the door of the café, and just smiled, refilling his coffee whenever it ran out. He almost daydreamed of handing Maura two tickets to tomorrow's musical: of her eyes sparkling, of her taking his hand and telling him he was the best in the world.
But time passed, and Mau wasn't coming.
In those few hours, Rocky had replayed the fantasy in his head hundreds of times, changing the lines and the scenery. At first, imaginary Maura was beaming with happiness, calling him affectionate names, melting in his arms like all those heroines on the stage of a musical theater in the arms of their beloved ones, but every time the fantasy became darker and darker. More disturbing. Mau no longer rejoiced, no longer smiled. Her bright lively figure was becoming more and more dim, and she more often sighed, frowned, did not accept the gift. She asked him to return the tickets, scolded him for wasting his money carelessly, told him some news, one worse than the other, and finally said she didn’t want to see him again. Never again.
It was getting unbearable to sit still, and Rocky abruptly moved away from the table, threw on his coat, and headed for the exit. Maybe a walk would clear his head a little…
“Miss Pepper, I have a very urgent task to attend to. If she shows up on the doorstep, don't let her out of here on any pretext. Lock the doors, board up the windows, show her every fashion magazine you can find, but don't let her leave here until I get back. I'm counting on your wit and exceptional charm.”
The way he looked intently into Ivy's eyes before he left looked almost threatening. He wasn't even aware of the desperation hiding behind that look. But Ivy saw it.
“Don't worry, I'm an expert at this,” she winked at him encouragingly.
The cold air blew across Rocky's face, and he shivered, pulling his scarf over his nose, the same funny skewed scarf Mau had knitted for him last Christmas. Sometimes, like now, Rocky thought he could still smell on it the very same scent of coffee and pastries that wafted from the Venza family's eatery. It didn't help distract him, though. Quite the opposite. After walking a few blocks in an attempt to escape his doubts, he spotted a small flower shop — Rocky's imagination immediately conjured up a lovely picture of Maura cradling a fresh spring bouquet on this cold, cloudy evening and he didn't notice himself stepping over the store’s doorstep. The frail old woman behind the counter put aside the newspaper and immediately chirped, offering him different flowers, and finally convinced him to take a few white chrysanthemums. She tied the flowers with a delicate pink ribbon and also wrapped them tightly in the newspaper she had read before.
“They mustn't be overfrozen. Or they won't last long,” she explained sternly.
Rocky walked back much more briskly. He was warmed by the thought that now he would be able to give Mau not one surprise, but two. Hiding the bouquet from a gust of cold wind, Rocky lowered his gaze to it and pressed the flowers closer to himself… when suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the headline of one of the newspaper articles.
“Shootout at the small Italian eatery Casa di Rondine shocked the residents… a bloody showdown in the neighborhood… occurred on the night… police identified the bodies of two…”
Rocky couldn't remember how he reached the familiar alleyway. How he threw the bouquet to the ground, swung over the barrier tape, and rushed to the entrance — a gaping hole instead of a small blue door. Shards of glass littered the floor, the formerly cozy, cramped hall was a real mess, the furniture was riddled with gunshots. Even the old tabletop radio was now on the floor, shattered to pieces.
“Stop right there!” a panting policeman grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. “What the hell are you doing breaking into a crime scene?”
“I… uh…” in his panic Rocky couldn't think straight, but nonetheless he blurted out: “I'm from a newspaper. Wanted to visit the crime scene myself.”
“A lousy reporter you are, then. Your buddies sniffed everything around here a long time ago.”
“I was just hired today and immediately assigned to this very intriguing case. So…”
“There's nothing intriguing about it. This Bianchi guy…”
“Who?”
“The renter, Augusto Bianchi, if that's his real name at all, apparently had a huge debt to pay someone. And for that, he got pinned down. There was a scuffle in the night, at least four assailants. The two guys we found here have a couple priors, but they're not in a condition to tell us who hired them. The amount of such cold cases we have…” the man hummed and passed his hand above his head. “We've already explained it all to your fellow scribblers this morning. And I highly doubt the landlord would want to tell the same story tenth times over to another newspaper weasel. The only thing he's interested in right now is getting money from the insurance company.”
“And the girl?”
“What girl?”
“The waitress. Who worked here. What about her?”
“Considering how much blood there is, they're probably both either in a ditch, scattered in pieces, or feeding fishes somewhere at the bottom of the Mississippi… both father and daughter, if you meant her,” boredly remarked the other officer, who had quietly approached them, lighting a cigarette. “There's nothing for you to do here, boy. Henry's right — there's absolutely nothing of interest in this case. People might have chattered about it in the morning, but the very next day they'll forget all about it. Go home, don't add to our workload. And quit the paper that sent you here. If your editor doesn't realize that news like this must be broken in the heat of the moment, believe me, their business will burn out faster than a short match.”
Rocky tried to get anything else out of them, at least a little bit, to look in the kitchen of the eatery, to slip upstairs to Mau’s and Augusto's apartment, but the policemen were adamant. On unsteady legs he made it to the nearest bench and collapsed on it, staring blankly into the dark November sky. He could have screamed, could have destroyed everything around him on a single painful impulse, but the emptiness that engulfed him was far more frightening.
His silence was more frightening.
Years would pass. Would flow, as before, from night to night. The world won’t notice his loss. The world won't notice any loss at all. In the place of his beloved swallow house, other birds will build a nest. Freckle and Ivy will eventually stop opening that wound with their questions. And one day, perhaps, he will stop gazing into the crowd, hoping to find among the unfamiliar faces the features dear to his heart, and stop flinching when he hears someone say amore mio. He knows how it happens — it was not the first time. All he has to do is smile and everything will work out. It'll wear off, getting back to the way it was. One day.
But the bouquet of chrysanths will still remain rotting on the cold ground.
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dailynnt · 7 days ago
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QUARTER PAST FOUR | 02
⏲︎ Summary: You haven’t seen him in two months. Not since that night you told him you wanted more — and he vanished. But tonight, while you’re trying to move on, laughing beside another man in a crowded nightclub… you see him. Those same dark eyes. That same smirk that undresses you with a glance. He used to come to you at 4:15 AM. No calls. No words. Just him, and your body, and that dangerous kind of love that leaves you bleeding. Now he’s back. And you’re about to find out if your heart can survive him a second time.
︎⏲︎ Couple: Jeon Jungkook x Reader, Jungkook x Y/N
⏲︎ Age restrictions: 18+
⏲︎ Size: mini series (19 990+ words)
⏲︎ Chapters: #01 | #02 | #03
⏲︎ Tags: ex situationship, smut, angst, toxic relationship, dom!Jungkook, emotionally vulnerable!Reader, crime, mention murder, emotional damage, pining, obsession, obscene nicknames, blowjobs, mutual desire, hot and cold dynamic, fwb turned heartbreak, slow burn (kind of), breakup aftermath, late night regrets, he comes back, still not over you, you can’t resist him, painfully in love, emotional manipulation, denial of feelings, he knows what he’s doing, dominant jungkook, rough sex, public teasing, car sex, dirty talk, jealous sex, praise kink, possessive jungkook, desperate need, wet panties, he ghosted you, you fell first, he fell later, reader has self-respect but also horny, he always finds his way back, you said it was the last time (but it wasn’t)
⏲︎ From author: I have something to tell you again. For those who are interested, read the notes at the end of the story 👇🏻
⏲︎ Dedication: to love of my life @curse-of-art. My beloved, this is dedicated to you because you love every version of my Jungkook. I love you with all my heart and soul 🫠🥰💗
⏲︎ Permanent tag list: @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @someoneelse0109, @kooklovee, @kookiesncreamri, @kooko009, @bhonbhon, @smokinghotstargirl, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle, @bhonbhon, @indigomoonchild09, @goldenboysmuse, @hisdecalcomania17, @ggingerismm, @tranquilreign, @asyr97, @mar-lo-pap, @diame93, @kash98, @mellyyyyyyx, @bts-ruu (If anyone wants to be add to my permanent list of tags, let me know 🥰)
⏲︎ Tag list: @maariinaaaaa, @borahaeluvr, @sectusempraa, @lj-lovebangtan, @upo1313, @ggukieskookie, @sanarin, @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby, @jayne13, @jayhargrove, @yayaalexis0613, @ashthetic, @justinseagulls-world, @drwonderbread, @fancypeacepersona, @sheshya, @elinaki92, @goldenko-97, @florabloomgirly, @vintagemoonsstuff, @beattiestreet, @Ilallaaa, @iemarch, @mrspotatas, @bangtansfav-7, @unholyforjk, @roguedahlia2, @riverofvodkatears
⏲︎ Warning: This fanfic contains explicit sexual content, toxic dynamics, emotional angst, manipulation, jealousy, and messy unresolved feelings. If you’re sensitive to themes of heartbreak, obsession, or unhealthy attachment — please read with caution. Also, English is not my first language, so there may be awkward phrasing or unusual sentence constructions here and there 🥺 Thank you for your understanding 🙂‍↕️
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Your fingers clench a small black-and-white photograph. It's nothing special — just a circle in a gray void. But it is the indisputable confirmation that the tests were right. It's your child. Your and Jungkook's child.
You look at the photo and your heart stops. Thoughts rush one after another, confusing you, tearing you apart from the inside. If you didn't know who Jungkook was, you might be happy. But now, this little proof of life inside you brings you not so much joy as fear.
Jungkook is gone. You asked him to leave, and he did. You hope it's forever. You haven't seen him in over four weeks, but the pain doesn't subside — on the contrary, it gets sharper every day. And now... everything has become even more complicated. You are carrying a part of the man you love so much it hurts. And even though it's scary, you haven't even thought about abortion. It's not even an option.
You will give birth to this child. Because it's not just a cell or a picture. It's your story with him. It's a part of him that stayed with you even when he disappeared from your life. And no matter what happens, you are no longer alone. You don't plan to tell Jungkook about your pregnancy. You will give birth to this child and raise it yourself.
You went outside and sat on a bench near the hospital, in a cozy garden where the smell of linden trees and fresh air slightly dampened your panic. The wind played with your hair, and for a moment it seemed to calm you down. But still, your anxiety grew — rapidly, obsessively.
What would you tell your parents? They didn't even know you had someone. And now? Tell them you're pregnant by... a killer? That you can't be with them because he takes the lives of others?
You clench your hands. Your chest feels heavy with tension. What to do next? How to live? What about work? In the best case scenario, it's six months and maternity leave. And that's if you can handle it. But what if you can't?
Your phone lights up in your hands. A message from Donmin. You reluctantly unlock it.
📲 Donmin: "How are you, Y/N? Have you left the doctor's office yet?"
Over the past month, Donmin has been around you more and more. He has become your friend. A friend who, as you knew, likes you. He had been worried about you ever since he first noticed how upset you were after breaking up with Jungkook. He wanted to know what had happened to you more than anyone else, so you told him a little about your previous relationship, who Jungkook was to you, but you didn't mention his name, only saying that you met him at your friend's birthday party.
At first, his text messages, calls, and excessive attention at work annoyed you. But over time, you got used to it and sometimes spent time with Donmin. He even managed to get you out of the house for a walk a few times, for which you were honestly grateful to him.
But just recently, you took a pregnancy test and it confirmed. So you made an appointment for an ultrasound to find out how far along you were. You knew roughly that a month had passed since you last had sex with Jungkook, and the woman who examined you confirmed it. Your baby is about 4 weeks old, and it is that little black spot on the image.
You exhale heavily. Donmin knows that you took a week off work. But you didn't tell anyone that you were pregnant. First, you wanted to be sure. So you took a week off work to find out what to do if the pregnancy was confirmed.
You block your phone and look up at the sky. And Jungkook's face appears before your eyes. His eyes, which looked at you with fire. His smile — bold, cunning, playful. And at the same time — so familiar. Your chest hurts again. A lot. Your heart hasn't let him go. That's why there isn't a single day that you don't think about him.
Would he be happy if he knew? Would he run away again, as always? You smile a sad smile — at yourself. And you ask yourself: is it even worth thinking about him now?
You unlock your phone, ignoring Donmin's message, and open a chat with Sajin. She's the one person you can tell this to. She was the only one who knew about your relationship with Jungkook from the very beginning. Because she was the one who introduced you. But you're more than sure that your friend told her boyfriend, Jimin, about you and Jungkook.
📱 You: "Hi, Sa. Are you home? I want to come over."
Sajin's name lit up in the chat, indicating that she was online, and then you saw that she had read the text message. Three animated dots appeared in the chat, and a moment later a message appeared:
📲 Sajin: "No. I'm at Jimin's. Waiting for the repairman. Come over, you can stay with me while the repairman fixes the intercom in the house."
📱You: "His intercom is broken? I'm on my way. Do you want me to buy you something to drink? Is it terribly hot outside? Maybe you want a beer?"
📲 Sajin: "There's cold beer here. Just come over. The intercom broke yesterday, so Jimin asked me to stay with him until the repairman arrives."
📱You: "Okay. I understand. I'll be there in half an hour."
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You arrive at Jimin's house. His two-story house in the suburbs, with white walls and a large garden, looks peaceful, almost idyllic — not at all like your inner state. You stop the car, take your purse with the ultrasound photo that you can't get out of your mind, and call Sajin.
"Will you open the door for me?" you ask when she picks up the phone.
"The door is open, just come in. And leave the gate open — the repairman should be here any minute," she replies and hangs up.
You sigh slightly, push open the gate, and enter the yard, leaving it ajar. The door to the house is indeed open. Sajin is standing on the threshold, smiling, and as soon as she sees you, she immediately hugs you. Her touch is warm and sincere, but you feel something inside you freeze. Something that even a hug cannot remove.
"Hello, dear," you hear her voice near your ear.
"Hi," you say quietly with a sad smile. She lets go of you and looks at your face for a few seconds, obviously studying your appearance.
"Let's go have a drink. It's so hot outside that it's unbearable. I think a cold beer will save the day," she says over her shoulder as she walks to the kitchen. You follow her.
The kitchen in Jimin's house is as big as all the other rooms in his house. You sit down at the table, and Sajin goes to the refrigerator and takes out two bottles of beer. Condensation immediately appears on them. Your friend opens one bottle and hands it to you.
"Y/N, you look bad, are you sick?" she asks worriedly as she opens a bottle of beer for herself and sits down next to you. You smile again.
"Do I really look bad?" you ask playfully. Your friend takes a sip of beer and smiles.
"I could lie to you, but why would I do that? It feels like you've been don’t sleep for weeks straight. And you seem to have lost weight," said Sajin, looking at you closely. You pursed your lips and lowered your eyes to the untouched bottle of beer.
"Jungkook showed up," you say almost emotionlessly, but inside you feel tight from saying his name out loud.
Sajin raised her eyebrows while she took another sip of beer. She quickly swallowed the liquid and asked,
"Jungkook? Seriously, after all this time, he decided to show up?" There was sarcasm in her voice. You didn't look up, just nodded.
"Yes... a month ago, I accidentally, or maybe not so accidentally, ran into him at the club. At first, he was just watching, but then I bumped into him near the bathroom and he told me he wanted me..." you faltered as you recalled that day, the day that ruined everything between you.
"My God, what a jerk!" Sajin exclaimed, "He disappeared for several months when he heard your confession, and now he has the nerve to come and say that he wants you?!" You looked up at your friend and looked at her guiltily. She was silent for a few seconds, then realized that you weren't against it. "Just don't tell me you had sex with him that same night,"
"Yes, we did," you admit. Sajin rolls her eyes.
"But he dumped you, and you immediately fell into his arms?" she asked, confused.
"Yes, Sa... when I saw him, it was like I was torn to pieces. I missed him so much. Honestly, I didn't want to go, but my feelings were stronger than my principles."
Sajin took a sip of beer and her face suddenly softened.
"If I had known what a jerk he was, I wouldn't have introduced you to him. He looks so charming, but in reality, he only thinks with his dick," your friend didn't hold back with her words. You smiled slightly. "Was the sex at least good?"
A wave of heat ran down your spine as you remembered how Jungkook fucked you in the car that time.
"Considering that I hadn't had sex during two places and the fact that it was him, it was unrealistically good," you said without hiding anything. Sajin smiled slyly.
"Well, it reassures me that he at least gave you pleasure... so are you two back together now?"
You bite your lower lip, nervous about what you're about to tell your friend next.
"No. When we finished, I said it was the last time and left. But he seemed very hurt by those words and came to me in the morning. We had a not very pleasant conversation, but you know how all our conversations end, we had sex again,"
Sajin laughed and shook her head.
"You two are like idiots. Can't you figure out your feelings?"
"Sajin, it's not just about feelings, as it turns out. When I told him I loved him, he told me he didn't need my love and that as soon as I found out who he really was, my love would disappear..."
Sajin leaned her hands on the table, leaning a little closer.
"What do you mean, 'who is he?' Is he married?" she asked seriously. You chuckled sadly.
"It would be better if he were married..." you muttered. You looked up at your friend and met her puzzled gaze. "Sa... I'm going to tell you something, but please keep it between us, okay? Don't even tell Jimin."
She raised her eyebrows and looked puzzled.
"God, what is it? But I promise I'll keep quiet," you were silent for a while, gathering your courage to say out loud who Jungkook was.
"He confessed to me why he always came at night. Where those scratches and wounds came from," you exhaled, staring into space. "He's... a mercenary. He kills people. For money."
Sajin gasped and immediately covered her mouth with her hand. She looked as if her whole world had frozen for a second.
"Are you... serious?"
"I almost lost consciousness when he said that," you smiled bitterly. "And I asked him to leave. Forever. That's why I look like this, I can hardly exist without him..." you say quietly, struggling to hold back the tears that are choking you.
Sajin moved closer and hugged you. This gesture allowed you and you can’t hold back and cry. Hot tears ran down your cheeks, leaving marks on your white summer dress.
"Y/N, my dear, I'm so sorry that he turned out to be such a person..." Your friend's hand caressed your back incessantly. "Jungkook looks so sweet and kind. I noticed that there was something... dangerous about him. But to this extent? His tattoos and piercings... I thought it was just... an image. To be liked," she shook her head. "What a horror..."
You sobbed and drew air into your lungs.
"Yes, it's horrible..." you agreed, "It hurts so much to think about him," your voice broke. "I want to forget. Erase the memory. Go back to when I thought he just disappeared because he was afraid of love. Not because he has... blood on his hands."
"Y/N..." Sajin began, but you interrupted her.
"But that's not the worst part of this situation..." you said painfully. Sajin's hand froze on your back.
"Not the worst? I'm afraid to imagine what could be worse? Is he stalking you?" she asked in horror. You shook your head in denial.
"No, he's not stalking me... I haven't seen him since that night..." you say. Then you carefully free yourself from your friend's embrace.
"I'm pregnant," you say, your voice trembling. Sajin freezes, her eyes wide open.
"Pregnant...?" she stammers. You reach into your bag and take out the ultrasound photo. When you hand it to your friend and she takes it in her hands and looks at it, you feel a little relief. Now this secret is not so heavy on your shoulders because at least someone else knows about it besides you.
"Y/N..." she says your name, looking up. Sajin is confused and doesn't know what words would be appropriate right now. "How long have you known?"
"A week ago. I felt nauseous for several days in a row, and then I realized that my period hadn't started. I took a few tests, and they showed two lines. And today, the doctor said on the ultrasound that the baby is already 4 weeks old."
Sajin covered her mouth with her hand and looked at the picture again.
"Wow…what a news... What are you going to do now? Are you... are you going to have an abortion?" She looked into your eyes. You looked away.
"No," you said confidently for the first time, "This is my baby. It's not its fault who he is. I'm going to give birth."
Sajin put her hand on yours and squeezed your fingers.
"You are so strong, my girl. I will be there for you and help you in any way I can," Sajin promised you again, and her embrace was so comforting.
"Thank you," you whispered. "Thank you for always being there for me," you said gratefully.
You talked for a while longer. Sajin asked you if you were going to tell Jungkook about the pregnancy, and you said you weren't going to. It's dangerous because if he finds out, his reaction could be ambiguous, and you're afraid he might force you to have an abortion. You also asked your friend not to tell Jimin about it yet, and she assured you that she would keep quiet.
Half an hour passed. You talked about you and your pregnancy, about how to tell your parents, and then Sajin noticed that the repairman who was supposed to come to fix the intercom hadn't shown up. She called Jimin to ask him to find out when the repairman would be there or at least give her his number, but Jimin didn't answer the phone.
While you were talking, Sajin drank two bottles of beer. She had to drink the bottle she opened for you because you can't drink alcohol now. She went to the bathroom, complaining of a full bladder. But as soon as she entered the bathroom, someone knocked on the door. Sajin asked you to let the repairman in, because it was probably him, and she said she would be out in a minute.
You went to the front door. When you opened it, you froze. Instead of the repairman, Jungkook was standing on the doorstep. Your heart sank.
His black eyes met yours, and you felt like you could sink through the floor. He stared at you without blinking. You noticed his eyebrows slightly raised. His gaze was familiar and yet unfamiliar at the same time. You immediately noticed that his jaw was covered with a dark bruise, and above his eyebrow was a thin line of tape that barely held the healed wound together. The lip on the same side was broken, and a small crack at the edge was still reddish.
It was as if something had squeezed you from the inside. An invisible fist struck your chest. You wanted to cry.
"Hi," he said first, clearing his throat.
His voice... you felt it as if you had been struck by electricity. Your whole body contracted into one emotion — a mixture of anxiety, longing, and indescribable tenderness.
"Hi..." you replied quietly, lowering your eyes. But you knew he wasn't taking his eyes off you. You could literally feel it with your skin. His silent presence burned, his gaze studied, read, penetrated deeper than you allowed.
"What are you doing here?" Jungkook asked cautiously, but with a hint of tension in his voice. You barely pulled yourself together before answering:
"I came to Sajin... She's here."
His jaw tensed slightly. It seemed like he wanted to say something for a second, but stopped himself. Instead, he nodded briefly.
"I need Jimin. Is he home?" His question sounded soft, almost casual, but the tension between the two of you was palpable.
You didn't have time to answer because at that moment Sajin came out of the hallway. She paused for a moment, glancing at both of you, and something flashed in her eyes... a silent understanding. But she quickly pulled herself together and smiled warmly at Jungkook, as always, as if she didn't know who he really was and that you were pregnant with his child.
"Jungkook-ah, hi. What are you doing here?" Sajin stepped forward slightly, standing in front of you, as if shielding you from Jungkook. He noticed this. He glanced from Sajin to you, then turned his eyes back to your friend.
"I'm looking for Jimin. I need him. I can't get through to him on the phone."
Sajin shrugged.
"He went to work. Did you go there?"
"I was at his work, they said he left, but they didn't say where." Jungkook looked tense. You secretly looked at his wounds and wondered where they came from. Was he in danger?
"I called him a few minutes ago, he didn't answer my call either... is it urgent?" Sajin asked. Jungkook glanced at you again and noticed you looking at him, so his expression softened. You were more than sure he wanted to smile. But he restrained himself.
"Yes, it's urgent. But okay, I'll try to find him and call again. If he shows up, tell him to call me urgently." Jungkook glanced at you one last time and turned to leave, but Sajin's voice made him stop almost immediately.
"Hey, Jungkook-ah," she called after him. Your heart skipped a beat. Why did she stop him? He turned around, looking over shoulder. "Are you okay? What's wrong with your face?" You held your breath, waiting for his answer.
"I got into a fight," he said simply.
"Who with? Is that why you're looking for Jimin?" Sajin asked, and you were grateful to her for that. Jimin worked as a lawyer, and he was quite experienced and had a good reputation. His cases were high-profile and successful. Most of his clients were government officials or successful businessmen. And if Jungkook needed Jimin as a lawyer, then he had serious problems.
"No, it's not because of that. Tell Jimin that I'm looking for him if he calls," said Jungkook and quickly headed for the exit. You watched him go and felt like you were being torn apart. You wanted so much to hug him, kiss him, heal every wound he had. The thought that he had gotten himself into some kind of trouble cut you like an invisible knife. And the fact that you were carrying his child and couldn't tell him about it completely destroyed you. You burst into tears, and Sajin hurried to take you back into the house.
Tears ran down your cheeks, mixing emotions — longing, fear, anger, tenderness, loss. You sank down on the sofa, burying your face in your hands, as if trying to stop the silent cry of your heart.
"Hey, Y/N..." Sajin said gently, quickly crouching down beside you. Her hands touched your shoulders. "Don't cry, dear, you mustn't worry!" She tried desperately to calm you down, but you couldn't stop. The tears kept flowing, as if something you had been holding back for so long had finally been released.
"His face..." you whispered through your sobs. "He... he was all beaten up... Why does he look like that? Why is he urgently looking for Jimin?"
"I'm sure he's fine. And he got beaten up... maybe he was drunk and got into a fight with someone at a club... maybe it was some politician's son, and that's why he's looking for Jimin to cover for him?" Sajin suggested. But you didn't believe that theory.
"What if he was on the verge of death? What if someone wants to kill him?" you asked, remembering how he told you that someone wanted to kill him before, and that was when he disappeared. You cried harder, and Sajin said nothing more, just hugged you tighter, letting you cry it out.
And suddenly — a knock on the door.
You shuddered as if you were overcome by a chill again. Sajin looked around and hurriedly got up.
"It's definitely the repairman... I'll be right back," she said, and you couldn't get Jungkook's battered face out of your head.
You stayed with Sajin until the repairman fixed the intercom. Your hands were shaking, your eyes were burning with tears. But you tried to pull yourself together.
"I think I'll go..." you said when the repairman left, "I'm tired. I feel sleepy..."
Sajin frowned.
"Are you sure? I can go with you. Or maybe it's better if you stay?"
"No, thank you, Sa, for your concern. I've calmed down now. I woke up early, that's all. I need to lie down and rest,"
Sajin hugged you, as if sensing that you weren't telling her everything. She walked you to your car and said,
"Text me when you get there. And don't stress. You can't right now, you hear me?" You nodded, forcing yourself to smile.
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When you got home, your mood got even worse. It was quiet, and the silence weighed on you like a steel press. You turned on the TV to distract yourself and lay down on the couch. You felt nauseous and had a headache. Some drama was playing on TV, but you couldn't follow it because he was in your head again. His eyes. His broken face. His appearance. It threw you off balance. You held on as best you could all these weeks without him. Even when you found out you were pregnant, you still held on, but seeing him again, and beaten up like that, was unbearably painful.
He won't know that you're pregnant with his child. You blame yourself for stopping taking birth control pills, and you blame yourself even more for not taking emergency contraception after you last had sex. What you found out then destroyed you, and you fell into despair, forgetting to take your medication. You could barely force yourself to drink water, let alone eat.
Memories of those nights, which seemed like just a pleasant adventure, flashed through your mind. Your decision: to be friends with benefits. But you didn't notice how you gave him your heart. Except for your first time having sex at Sajin's birthday party, you always used protection. And you remembered the night when you asked him to stop using condoms. That was the night he cum inside you for the first time.
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It was starting to get light outside when there was a knock at your door. You quickly headed for the door, glancing at your watch. 4:15. It had become a pattern for Jungkook to arrive at the same time every day. He didn't always arrive at exactly 4:15; sometimes he was a few minutes early, sometimes a few minutes late, but it was always a quarter past four.
You waited for him all night, simply unable to had sin of sleep. You thought about him all day at work, and finally he arrived.
When you open the door, the cool air hit your face, touching the bare skin on your stomach. You smiled, feeling the warmth inside you as Jungkook looked at you.
He stood there in a dark hoodie and loose black sweatpants, a little tired, but with a slight smile that always made your heart race. His eyes scanned your figure, and his sweet smile turned sly.
Jungkook took a step towards you, his arms wrapped around your waist, and then almost immediately moved down to your buttocks. His lips are already on yours, his tongue is already penetrating your mouth, and this kiss is like a breath of fresh air.
His kiss gives you butterflies in your stomach, and a barely noticeable wave of excitement passes through you. As always, you kiss passionately, and your kiss is like that of lovers who have longed for each other. But you weren't in love, and you see each other almost every day. But your need for each other is so obvious. And when your lungs are burning, Jungkook separates your lips.
"Why are you dressed like that? Are you going somewhere?" He is still hugging you, his hands squeezing your buttocks. He wants to take you deeper into the house, but you stop him.
"I want us to go for a drive," you say and smile. Jungkook raises his eyebrows, and you realize he's not thrilled with the idea.
"Where do you want to go? It's four in the morning..." he says skeptically. You raise your eyebrows too and say discontentedly.
"Somewhere. Let's just get in the car and go for a drive..." you suggest. Something like a smile flashes across Jungkook's eyes — but it's not funny. It's skepticism. He blinks lazily, then leans toward you and his lips touch your jaw.
"Why go anywhere? We can stay at your place and do something more interesting than driving around..." he said between kisses. You put your hands on his chest and deflecting from it a little, as if resisting, but you were actually enjoying his kisses.
"Jungkook..." you said firmly. "I want to go for a drive. All I see is work and my bedroom..." Your voice sounded indignant. Jungkook stopped kissing your neck and approached to face you. Your faces were inches apart.
"Really? You have weekends off. Why don't you go out then?" Jungkook asked. You tensed up. Why doesn't he just want to go, why is he stalling? You have to get ready for work in three hours, and time is running out, but he seems to be doing it on purpose.
"I don't go out because I work a lot, and I don't want on weekends do it, because I’m so tired from job," you tried to justify yourself. Jungkook looked skeptical again, one of his eyebrows raised slightly in disbelief.
"And now you want to do it? At 4 a.m., when you have to be at work at 8 a.m.?" he asked with a smile. You were even more indignant. You already looked offended, and your desire to go somewhere with Jungkook melted away. The fact that he didn't want you made you angry.
"Yes, now I want to. But the way you're finding reasons not to go seems to have made him leave," you looked away and stared anywhere but at Jungkook. He was silent. So when you heard the silence drag on, you looked back at him.
"Okay, where do you want to go?" he asked, still smiling. That smile seemed mocking to you. But joy beat beneath your ribs.
"I don't know, let's just drive around town. We can buy coffee. We can go to Sokchon Lake," you suggested with a slight rush that actually hid your joy. Hearing your plans, Jungkook raised both eyebrows.
"Sounds like a date," he said mockingly.
"What date...?" you asked quietly. It stung inside. You weren't trying to go on a date with them. You just wanted to relax by taking a walk. "So that's why you're resisting, because it will look like a date if we go somewhere together?" you concluded.
"Well, I don't go on dates, so..." Jungkook didn't finish because you nervously pulled away from his hand and walked away from him. You went to the kitchen. On the way, you took off your shirt and threw it on the back of a chair, showing that you weren't going anywhere. You poured yourself some water — it was the first thing you could find.
You didn't look at Jungkook, but you heard him coming toward you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him approach and stand next to you. You felt his gaze, but you stubbornly ignored him, nervously gulping down water. You heard him smile, and then you felt Jungkook grab you, turn you toward him, and press you against the tabletop. His fingers took your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You gave him a look full of lightning bolts. He's still snickering at your anger.
"Are you offended?" he asked the obvious question.
"No," you say dryly.
"Then why aren't you looking at me?"
"I am looking at you right now," you say in the same tone.
"If you want, let's go for a drive. Why are you so pissed, huh?" Jungkook asked sincerely, not understanding your indignation.
"I don't want to anymore," you say and turn away, pulling away from his fingers. You put the glass on the table and try to walk around him, but Jungkook pushes you against the table, blocking you with his hands on either side of your hips. His movement wasn't rough, but rather a little irritated, authoritative.
"Baby, we're going to Sokchon Lake now because you wanted to. So put your shirt back on, or you'll freeze by the water."
You breathed quickly, looking at his lips. You hated it when he did that, when he first played with your feelings and then agreed to do what you wanted. However, the determination with which he said it made you quietly happy.
"You don't go on dates..." you said sarcastically.
"So you really planned a date, not just a walk?" he smiled.
"No, I wanted to go for a walk. You're the one who saw it as a 'date,'" you replied.
"Whatever. We're going to the lake," he said, sounding as if it was no longer up for discussion.
"Why not agree right away? This is a must make me nerves first?" you said indignantly. But instead of an answer, you got a kiss. Jungkook's tongue took possession of yours. You felt his kiss become deeper, more confident, one of his hands sliding up your thighs to your waist, pressing you against him. His other hand remained stubbornly pressed against the tabletop, not letting you escape an inch. Not that you wanted to escape.
Your heart was beating wildly. His closeness, his scent — familiar and comforting, mixed with the light aroma of cigarettes — enveloped you like a blanket. You knew he could kiss you forever if he wanted to.
When he finally released your lips, you barely had time to breathe.
"Your anger is so hot. Besides, it's so much fun to make you nerves," he said with a smile.
"You're unbearable," you muttered. Jungkook kissed you again, but this time briefly.
"I'd rather stay home and fuck my sweet pussy, but if you want to go out... anything for you, baby."
"We have sex every day, we need to variety our meting somehow," you say when Jungkook lets you go. He hands you your shirt so you can put it on.
"Want to variety our meting?" Jungkook asked and smiled slyly.
"Yes, I do," you say, putting on the shirt. Jungkook's gaze darkens, and you know exactly what he's thinking. And it's not about a walk by the lake. You smile seductively, and you both know that this trip to the lake will not be boring. You walked past Jungkook to the exit, and he hurried after you.
You drove in his car — a black SUV cruising through the empty streets of a city just waking up. Soft music played in the cabin, and the scent of cherry car freshener mixed with your perfume in the air. Jungkook pulled into a small 24-hour coffee shop, got out alone, not allowing you to move from your seat. He returned with two cups, handing one to you with that same sly smile that drove you crazy every time.
You admired the morning view of Seoul. The city seemed completely different — quiet, light, and not as busy as it was during the day. You drank delicious hot coffee and listened to the music Jungkook had turned on until you reached Sokchon Lake.
The lights were still flickering on the water, the sky was beginning to brighten, but the clouds promised rain. Jungkook parked near the water.
"Shall we take a walk?" You suggested.
Jungkook agreed without commenting on whether it was worth doing. You walked around the lake holding hands, slowly, without rushing. You told him about your work, that you would soon have new interns, and that, to be honest, you weren't very eager to teach anyone because you already had so much to do. Jungkook listened. He nodded. Sometimes he interjected with his ironic remarks.
When you returned to the car, he sat on the hood, sliding his hood slightly back. You stood in front of him, checking your phone. He looked around—at the empty parking lot, the calm lake, the sky that was about to rain. Then he glanced at his watch.
"It's already five," he said, looking at you. You stared intently at your phone, ignoring his words. He grunted, then abruptly but not rudely took your hand and pulled you closer. You found yourself between his spread legs, pressed against him with your hips. His crotch touched yours — it was the kind of pressure that made your lower abdomen burn with desire.
Jungkook pulled you closer so that you would definitely notice him now.
"Well, baby, did you like this 'variety'?
"So much," you replied sarcastically, not taking your eyes off his lips, which you already wanted to kiss.
"I think it's time to diversify not only our meetings. Something else too..." His voice was hoarse, with a hint of playfulness and obvious desire.
"Uh-huh?" you asked, even though you knew exactly where he was going with this.
"My car seems like the perfect place for that. Want some variety in the back seat?"
You laughed softly, noticing how his eyes darkened. You put the phone you were holding in your back jeans pocket and wrapped your arms around his neck. His hood slipped off, revealing his slightly tousled hair.
"That's a good idea..." you said.
"I'm always full of good ideas, baby," he smiled slyly, defiantly. You both looked at each other. And as you both expected, this meeting would not end with a simple walk. You looked him over — from his dark hoodie to his eyes, which reflected the same feelings as yours. You leaned in and kissed him. One of his hands remained on your waist, while the other found the waistband of your jeans and slipped through it, touching your bare buttocks. He squeezed your skin, increasing the pressure on your lips. Jungkook kissed you deeply, awakening in you a desire not to stop.
Pulling away from you, he whispered:
"Let's go."
His fingers slid across your palm, intertwining with yours, and you walked to the car. The car, which a few minutes ago was just the backdrop for your conversation, now became the stage for something much more intimate.
Jungkook opened the back door and gestured for you to get in first. Inside, it was dark and cozy, the smell of coffee still lingering, and you held your breath as you sat down in the seat, leaning your back against the door. He got in after you — quickly, and in the next second, his lips found yours again.
His kisses became hotter, insistent in the best sense of the word. They undressed you without hands. Jungkook's fingers slid down your shirt, taking it off and throwing it aside. He broke away for a moment and pulled you onto his lap. You sat on top of him and felt him press closer, without any shame.
You felt his kisses on your neck, and his hands slid under your top, finding your breasts. He squeezed them, sending a wave of excitement through your body. His cock was hard, and you could feel it clearly as you moved slowly on his thighs.
Jungkook lifted your top up and pressed his lips to one of your nipples. His warm tongue pressed against your nipple as if tasting it for the first time, and in the next moment he sucked on it. The pain from his sucking and the way he pressed your breasts, mixed with the friction of his cock, aroused you even more. You ran your fingers through his silky, resinous hair and simply enjoyed every second with him.
The rain pounded on the roof of the car, creating an even more intimate atmosphere. Jungkook returned to your lips, finding the button on your jeans. He slipped his hand under the fabric and found your center. You moaned right into his lips as he smeared the wetness between your folds. He smiled.
"So wet," he said without breaking the kiss. You cupped his face in your hands and deepened the kiss. "You want me so badly that you're literally dripping."
Jungkook pulled his hand out of your pants and put it back in, but on the other side. He ran his palm over your buttocks, found your hole, and slipped a finger inside, first one, then another. You stopped kissing Jungkook, just leaned against his temple and breathed heavily with excitement right into his lips. Jungkook rhythmically fucked you with his fingers, and you felt your need for something more increase with every movement of his fingers. Jungkook sometimes pulled his fingers out of your hole, caressed your clitoris, and then went back in.
"Kook... I... I want more," you whispered. Jongkook bit your lips and had no intention of stopping.
"What do you want, baby? My cock instead of my fingers?" he asked in a voice hoarse with excitement. You felt his cock pressing against your pubic bone and wanted it inside you.
"Yes... I want you... come inside me," you said almost dramatically. Jongkook quickened his movements inside you, causing you to whimper softly. He returned to your clitoris and stimulated your most sensitive spot with slow, almost gentle movements. Jungkook plunged his tongue into your mouth. He caught your tongue with his lips and sucked on it. His tongue still tasted of coffee. The next moment, you felt an orgasm approaching. One movement of his fingers and you came. Your clitoris twitched. Jungkook squeezed it between two fingers, pressing to prolong the pleasure that most pleasant sensation for as long as possible. Your moan right into his lips told him that you were satisfied.
You felt yourself coming to your senses. You broke away from Jungkook's lips and smiled contentedly, and he smiled back at you.
"You don't think that's all, do you, baby?" he murmured. Jungkook pulled his hand out of your pants and licked the fingers that had been inside you just a moment ago. You watched him savor you with lust in your eyes.
"Of course it's not all," you said seductively. You climbed off his lap without breaking eye contact. Jungkook watch up to you and already guessed what you were going to do, and it made him hard even more. You lowered yourself between his spread legs. There was enough space in the back seat of his SUV, and you settled comfortably right in front of his thighs. You reached for his hoodie and pulled it off in one motion. His beautiful body was exposed. The tattoos inflamed your already heightened senses, and you admired every inch of his body.
Jungkook leaned back in his seat and smiled slyly as he watched your eyes admire his body. His abs were perfect and transitioned into a V-shaped muscle hidden in his pants. You looked up at Jungkook's face and noticed how he was looking at you greedily, ready for your blowjob. He towered over you, every muscle playing as he made the slightest movement, and that smile made you greedy for him.
You reached for his waist and tightly grabbed hem of the pants, pulling it down. Jungkook lifted his hips just enough so that his pants could slide down easily. When you realized he wasn't wearing underwear, a wave of heat ran down your spine.
"You're shameless," you said, looking away from his erect cock, "you were in such a hurry to get to me that you forgot your underwear?"
Finally, his sweatpants were down, and you took his cock in your hands, causing Jungkook's hips to tremble slightly.
"I didn't forget. I just didn't want to wear it," he confessed. You bit your lip. You stroked him several times. Jungkook cursed quietly, and you enjoyed the look on his face.
You stroked him a few more times, exposing the head of his cock, from which precum was dripping. You gently touched it with your tongue, licking the white liquid. You felt its saltiness, then took it in your mouth and sucked.
"Fuck..." he said again, this time louder. You looked at him and saw him throw his head back on the seat and close his eyes. He moved his hips closer, spreading his legs wider so you could take him deeper, and you did as he wanted.
You opened your mouth as wide as possible and took him almost all the way in. Jungkook was big, and it was hard for you to keep your mouth open wide for long, but you were going to do everything you could to make him feel pleasure. You moved your head along its length. Your saliva mixed with his semen and began to drip from the corners of your lips and down your chin.
Jungkook raised his head. He watched you suck his cock and he swears that you look better maybe only when he's deep inside you and making you cum. His hand twisted your hair and held it to help you control your movements.
"Your mouth was made for my cock, baby," he said, leaning closer. His other hand rested behind your jaw, his fingers slipping around your ear. He threw his head back as you took him as deep as you could. Jungkook began to move his hips more actively, fucking your mouth. "Yes, fuck... don't stop... don't stop, fuck..." he moaned. You could feel your jaw aching, it was burning. Tears streamed down your cheeks and you felt him harden on your tongue.
You tried hard to bring Jungkook to orgasm. The sounds of slurping mixed with his low moans filled the entire space in the car. You worked with your mouth, but Jungkook didn't cum. You couldn't take it anymore, your jaw hurt, and you had to finish it as soon as possible. You found his balls with your hand and squeezed them lightly. He hissed somewhere above your head. A dirty curse escaped from his mouth. You realized that this was what was needed.
You ran your lips over his cock, massaging his balls. Jungkook's cock hardened as much as it could, and then you felt something salty spill into your throat. Jungkook did it so quickly that he didn't even warn you that he was coming.
His hips jerked, and warm semen dripped right onto your tongue. You swallowed everything, down to the last drop, until he stopped completely.
You finally let him go. You gathered the remaining semen that was dripping out with your fingers and licked them. Jungkook breathed deeply, looking at you adoringly. His cock glistened with your saliva.
He smiled contentedly, and you couldn't help but smile too. You knew you had done well. He grabbed your hand and pulled you to your feet. His hands quickly removed your jeans and underwear, leaving you with only your raised top. He sat you on his lap, squeezing your buttocks with his fingers. His lips found yours, and you felt all the gratitude for a good blowjob.
Your naked, wet pussy touched his cock, and something inside you fluttered. You had only had unprotected sex once before, and the sensations were crazy. You wanted to feel him again, for real, without barriers. Body to body, skin to skin. You were taking birth control pills, so the risk of getting pregnant during unprotected sex was minimal, even if he came inside you.
You moved your hips, stimulating his cock to become hard again. It was a must that he would fill you with his cock today. It worked, and in a few minutes you felt him hard and pressing against your pussy.
Jungkook separated your lips and lowered his eyes to them. He saw how they were swollen from frequent kisses.
"Get up, baby, I'll get a condom," he said gently. But you didn't move. You looked at his lips too and said.
"Maybe we can do without it today?" Your voice was breathless and trembling a little, but you were determined. Jungkook raised his eyebrows, unable to hide his surprise.
"Without a condom?" he asked. You shifted, squeezing his thighs with your knees.
"Yes. Let's do it without a condom," you confirmed.
Jungkook grunted, but his dark eyes already screamed that he wanted it.
"It's dangerous, baby," he said with a smile.
"Why?" you asked, looking at his beautiful face.
"Because if we start having unprotected sex, I won't be able to go back to condoms with you," Jungkook explained. You kissed him, then smiled as if challenging him.
"You won't have to go back to them if you don't want to,"
Jungkook squeezed your buttocks, pulling you closer. You gasped softly at this unexpected movement.
"You shouldn't talk like that. You shouldn’t trust me such that," his voice was serious and even a little harsh, but you felt a wave of emotions wash over you. Maybe you shouldn't have trusted him so much, but you did.
"Why are you so worried? We've already had unprotected sex," you reminded him.
"That was different. Back then, it was a spontaneous decision. Now we have sex very often. It could be risky,"
You smiled mockingly, understanding what he was hinting at.
"Are you afraid of becoming a father? I'm on birth control pills, and if you don't cum inside me, then everything will be safe and risk-free."
Jungkook looked at your lips and then slowly raised his eyes to you. His fingers found your entrance and plunged inside. An uncontrollable moan escaped your lips. He moved his fingers inside you, saying softly,
"What if I want to cum inside you?"
"Kook..." you whimpered, lowering your head and closing your eyes.
"Your pussy is so tight that I don't think I can control myself," he continued to fuck you with his fingers to stretch you to his size.
"You held back then..." you could barely say, feeling every movement of his fingers.
"Then you were just lucky," said Jongkook, and you felt him smile. You forced yourself to lift your head and open your eyes.
"Damn it, just come inside me. I want to feel you raw," you said. Jungkook grabbed you by the neck, pulling you toward him. His lips stopped a millimeter from yours.
"Are you sure? This is your last chance to think it through," he whispered hoarsely.
"I want you to cum inside me without a condom," you whispered right into his lips. And Jungkook seemed to go crazy.
He pounced on you with a kiss that made your head spin. His tongue found yours and mercilessly took possession of it. The thought of Jungkook entering you without a condom and this frenzied, passionate kiss made you wet even more.
Finally, when Jungkook had had his fill of your lips, he asked you to lift your hips. He rolled his cock and pressed it against your entrance. Jungkook told you to lower yourself slowly so it wouldn't hurt too much.
You grabbed his shoulders and began to slowly lower yourself. It still hurt, despite how much he had stretched you and how slowly you were going. His cock was large, and it caused some discomfort.
When you finally lowered yourself completely onto his length, you swore:
"Fuck..." slipped from your lips. The feeling of his unprotected cock was insanely pleasant. Jungkook also closed his eyes and moaned softly.
"Damn always so tight..." he whispered, opening his eyes. You made a movement and stopped. It was painful but at the same time incredibly pleasant.
"Come on, baby, give me a good ride," he said blissfully, staring into your face. You listened to him and started moving your hips.
His cock filled you completely, making your body tremble with every new movement. You dug your nails in into his shoulders, and he gritting his teeth, watched you rock on him, a hungry look in his eyes.
"Can you feel it?" Jungkook whispered hoarsely, sliding his hand down your stomach. He found your clitoris and massaged it several times. "Can you feel how deep I am inside you?"
You just nodded, your lips trembling, and a quiet, stifled moan escaped your throat. He was so deep that it felt like he was touching your soul. Your movements became faster, your body got used to his size, and instead of pain, now there was wave after wave of unbridled pleasure.
Jungkook took you by the hips, setting his own rhythm — harder, more commanding. His cock slid inside you so easily, as if your bodies were made for this union.
You felt the pulsating heat gathering in your lower abdomen. His hips slammed into yours with frenzied force, and his hands squeezed your buttocks so tightly that they seemed to leave marks.
"Jungkook, I..." you whispered breathlessly, your body trembling with the approaching orgasm.
"So soon, baby? Then give it to me. Let me feel you cum on my cock..."
His fingers found your clitoris again, and that was enough — you clenched around him, screaming as the orgasm washed over you like a wave, tearing your body apart in sweet agony.
"Oh, you're squeezing me so tight..." Jungkook moaned, "I'm going to cum inside you..." he warned, and after a series of deep thrusts, he gasped sharply and poured himself into you, filling you with his hot seed. You felt each thrust of his orgasm release a new portion. He remained inside you, not moving an inch. His forehead touched yours, his breath hot and heavy.
You fell onto his chest, still trembling from the afterglow, and he gently ran his fingers down your back.
"Damn, how sweetly you drive me crazy..." he whispered, still not pulling his cock out of you. You remained like that — fused, without barriers, for a while longer. And then you climbed off him. The car was fogged up, rain was falling outside the window, which you didn't even notice. You got dressed, and Jungkook turned you around to enjoy the taste of your lips once more. You kissed him, and your heart was racing.
This sex was different, more intimate. His lips moved against yours, and you felt that you didn't want him to take you home, that you wanted him to stay. You wanted him to stay with you forever. You wanted him to come not only at night or in the early morning. You fell in love with this guy and for the first time admitted it clearly to yourself.
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This memory made you feel sick. You cried again, a lot and for a long time. You thought: when will this pain go away, it's so strong that you don't want to exist. You want your thoughts to disappear, you want your head to be empty.
It was already dark outside, and you were still lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Thoughts were swarming in your head — now mostly about the baby. You imagined how you would walk with a belly, how you would hold the baby in your arms. And you quietly thought about what you would name her... or him.
A few hours ago, Sajin called. She was worried about you and wanted to come over. But you lied — in a gentle, friendly tone, you said that you had slept well and were feeling better. Sajin believed you and said she would visit tomorrow.
You also spoke to your parents. But you couldn't bring yourself to tell them about the pregnancy.
It was late, you had just come out of the bathroom when the phone rang again. The screen displayed the name "Donmin." Only then did you remember that you hadn't answered him all day. Your heart sank. You pressed the green button and sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Hello," you said.
"Finally," you heard Donmin's voice on the other end of the line, "You're still in Korea," he joked. You smiled.
"I'm sorry. I'm not feeling well today, so I hardly picked up my phone,"
"I was worried about you. You wrote yesterday that you were going to the doctor, and then you didn't reply to my texts all day. So I decided to come see you,"
You jumped to your feet.
"You're coming? Oh, Donmin, I'm sorry, I... you don’t need to worried. You don't need to come, I'm fine..."
"I'm very glad to hear that, Y/N. But what should I do, I'm already in your neighborhood. Should I turn around and leave? Or will you come out for 5 minutes and we can talk a little?"
"Okay..." you sighed. It would be rude to refuse him, especially since you had been ignoring him all day, and you know he genuinely cares. "I'll wait for you."
"I'll be there in 10 minutes," he said cheerfully and hung up.
You quickly changed out of your pajamas into sweatpants and a hoodie. It was cool outside because of the rain that had started in the evening. But before you could pull on your hoodie, there was a knock at the door. You were surprised — Donmin had promised to arrive in ten minutes, but only three had passed. You grabbed your phone and went to the door.
You opened it, expecting to see Donmin — but it wasn't him.
Jungkook was standing there dressed in all black, with a hood over his head that covered his face. You felt everything inside you tighten into a tight knot and it became difficult to breathe.
You looked at each other without breaking the silence that was too loud between you. You blinked a few times, thinking he was a hallucination, but he didn't disappear or turn into Donmin. It was Jungkook. He was at your door again. How long was he going to torment you with his appearances?
"Are you waiting for someone?" he asked, glancing at your figure.
"Yes. A friend is coming," you say, trying to sound firm. But inside, you're a storm of emotions. You look at the wounds on his face and your heart aches. You grip the door handle tightly so you don't lose control. "Why did you come? I thought we had resolved everything and agreed that you wouldn't show up anymore."
Jongkook sniffs air and bites his piercing. You look at his lips and then quickly look up at his eyes. He looks away, unable to meet your gaze for the first time.
"I don't know how I ended up here. My feet just brought me here..." Jungkook says in a quiet, low voice. You listen to your heart pounding against your chest. "When I saw you today... I lost control of myself," he says, looking into your eyes. It was difficult for you to hold back the tears that welled up when Jungkook appeared next to you. But you held yourself back as best you could. Hearing those words from him hurt more than any physical wound.
"You shouldn't be here..." you said with a trembling voice, "my friend is coming soon, and I don't want him to see you."
Jungkook was silent. You noticed how his face darkened, his lips forming a thin line. And then he took a step forward. You almost fainted — he was so close again. This warmth, this presence — everything you wanted. But that was exactly what you couldn't have.
Why is life so cruel?
The man you love madly is within breathing distance. But you can't touch him. You can't be with him.
"Baby... forgive me..." he said firmly, looking into your eyes one at a time, "I'm so sorry I'm not the man you deserve. I'm sorry I hurt you and that I still hurt you... I can't stop thinking about you. Every damn day since I left, you've been constantly on my mind and I can't do anything about it... I..." He touched you and you closed your eyes. You were happy. Terribly happy to hear that he was suffering too. That you weren't the only one carrying this love like a burden. But do you need that now?
"I have no right to be here with you, but this is all I want..." You felt him lean closer, and just no way to hold him back. He stopped a millimeter away and whispered right into your lips: "What have you done to me? I'm fucking in love with you," and the next moment he kissed you.
His kiss was frantic. Full of longing, unbearable love, pain that had been building up day and night. You felt his lips touch yours — at first cautiously, as if asking for permission, and then with a passion that seemed forbidden. He kissed you as if it were the last time, as if those few seconds could change everything.
Your fingers clenched the fabric of his black hoodie, and you responded to the kiss without thinking about anything else but him. But your body couldn't take it. You felt a wave of nausea. It was another bout of toxicosis. You pulled away from him abruptly, covered your mouth with your hand, and almost rushed to the bathroom.
"Hey!" Jungkook exclaimed anxiously and followed you.
You managed to run to the toilet and started vomiting. The yogurt you ate before bed came out. Jungkook knelt beside you, holding your hair with one hand and placing the other on your back.
When you felt a little better, you washed your face with cold water, hiding your face in your hands, trying to pull yourself together. Jungkook left silently and returned a minute later with a glass of water.
"Here you go," he said softly. You took the water with trembling hands and drank it carefully. He touched your forehead with his fingers.
"Are you feeling a little better?" he asked softly, with genuine concern. You nodded hastily.
"Yes, I think so... I think it was... got sick from the kimpab," you lied, trying not to meet his eyes so that he wouldn't even think it was toxicosis. "I ate it before bed... it must have been spoiled."
He seemed to believe you. He fell silent for a moment. Then he smiled a little and said with feigned calm:
"And I thought my kiss was so terrible..."
You laughed awkwardly, shaking your head. An uncomfortable silence ensued. You handed him the empty glass and walked past him back to the living room. You stopped by the sofa, and Jungkook followed you. You felt awkward. But he didn't seem to. You cleared your throat, which was hoarse from the fact that you had just strained it.
"Uh... I think you should go..."
Jungkook approached and stopped right in front of you.
"If I leave now... can we talk later?"
You didn't know what to say. He had just confessed his love, and your palms were damp with sweat from nerves. You lowered your eyes, wanting to step back, but he took a step forward.
"Jungkook..." you said quietly, "you really should go. My friend will be here soon. I don't know... maybe we can talk tomorrow..."
Jungkook wasn't listening anymore. He moved even closer and pinned you against the sofa, his body becoming a barrier you couldn't escape.
"Are you serious?" he hissed, his eyes burning. "Are you really going to meet some friend when I'm here, right in front of you, and I just told you that I'm fucking in love with you?"
You panicked. You couldn't talk to Jungkook right now because Donmin was about to show up any second.
"I can't cancel this meeting... I didn't know you were coming... and he was worried about me, so I have to reassure him..." You couldn't find the right words. Jungkook was annoyed, it was clear from his expression.
"What kind of friend comes so late? And worries about you?" he asked dryly, and you froze, sensing jealousy in his voice. You frowned, looking into his eyes, which were flashing with anger.
"The one who shouldn't worry you, because you're not my boyfriend," you said indignantly. Jungkook smiled slightly when he heard your words.
"Is that the clown you were with at the club?" he suggested. You tried to push Jungkook away to get away from him, but he leaned forward and you sat down on the back of the sofa. His hands rested on the sofa and he leaned closer. "Is he still hanging around you?"
"Jungkook..." you called him sternly, "Just go. I don't want to talk to you right now. And don't call my friend a clown. He's a decent, good person... and you're nobody to..." You didn't have time to finish as there was a knock at the door. It was Donmin. You and Jungkook turned around at the same time. The tension became unbearable. Jungkook looked back at you.
"I'll go and tell your friend not to worry about you anymore. And to stop even thinking about doing that," he said in an even but firm voice. Jungkook let go of you and walked decisively toward the door.
"No, Jungkook, wait!" You rushed after him, but he was already opening the door.
And right in front of him stood Donmin. With an umbrella in his hands. With a surprised, tense expression on his face. Donmin's gaze shifted from Jungkook to you. And you stood behind Jungkook, pale as a ghost.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi," Jungkook replied before you could open your mouth. "Are you my girlfriend's friend?" Jungkook asked with a slight smile.
"Jungkook, please," you whispered behind his back, but he didn't hear you.
Donmin held out his hand, looking at Jungkook and then at you.
"Yes, I'm Donmin. Your girlfriend's friend... and you, as I understand it, are her ex who can't forget the way to her house." Jungkook looked at his hand for a few seconds and then looked up. You felt your blood boil inside. Now that you knew who Jungkook really was, you were afraid that he might be unpredictable. You had never seen Jungkook angry before, and you definitely didn't like the look on his face as he stared at Donmin.
"Ex?" Jungkook repeated calmly, tilting his head slightly to the side, looking at Donmin as potential prey. "I didn't know we broke up. Did she tell you that?"
"Jungkook..." you said more harshly. It was becoming unbearable. The situation had reached a boiling point. He turned to you and you saw his eyes shining with anger and irritation, but he was skillfully hiding it.
"Did you really tell your friend that we broke up?" he asked. You wanted to say something, but Jungkook turned to Donmin, "By the way, do you always worry about her at night, or is today just an exception?"
Donmin took a step forward, no longer smiling.
"Listen, I don't know what's going on here, but I know she asked you not to show up — so just go. Why are you bothering her?"
Jungkook's smile faded. His face became cold and hard, like stone. His voice changed completely — it became even and steely.
"Bothering her?" he repeated. "Friend, let me explain to avoid any misunderstandings. She's not in the best condition today. I'm her boyfriend, not her ex, so you won't be 'worrying' about her so late anymore. Have I made myself clear?"
You began to shake with anger and excitement. What were they doing here?
"I'm her friend. And in all the time I've known her, she's never had a boyfriend. I know you disappeared, leaving her behind. We became close with Y/N. So I have the right to worry," Donmin said. "And I'm not going to argue with you at her door," he took a step forward and wanted to go in, but Jungkook gently but firmly placed his hand on his chest, stopping him.
"Actually... you won't have to argue because you're leaving now,"
"What?" Donmin protested.
"You heard me. She's not feeling well, but I'm here now. Your presence is unnecessary..."
You couldn't stand it and stepped between them.
"Donmin, please, can you go? I need to talk to Jungkook," you said. Your voice trembled, as did your whole body. Donmin looked at you for a few seconds, then glanced quickly at Jungkook.
"Are you sure?" he asked seriously.
"Yes, please, I really need to talk to him, so go. I'll call you tomorrow," you were shaking all over. The fear that Jungkook might do something to Donmin was ingrained in every cell of your body.
"Okay, Y/N. I'll wait for your call. But if anything happens, call me right away," he said. You felt Jungkook's chest touch your back, and his voice above your head was rough.
"Nothing will happen to make she call you. Good night, friend,"
You gave Jungkook an angry look, which he didn't even notice because he was looking at Donmin the whole time. Donmin didn't respond to Jungkook's provocation, just gave you one last look and left.
When Donmin disappeared from view, you pushed Jungkook in the chest, feeling intense anger. He took a few steps back when you pushed him with all your strength.
"What are you doing, idiot?" you shouted, unable to contain your emotions. "Why the hell did you make such a scene?" You approached him, pointing your finger at his face. "What a hell you my boyfriend you are? You've never been one!"
Silence hung over the room, thick as before a storm. Jungkook stood motionless, calmly accepting your blows — although something was boiling in his eyes. But he remained silent. And you couldn't stop.
"Never!" you repeated hoarsely, almost shouting. "We fucked. Yes, we were close. But that doesn't make you my boyfriend! What the hell, Jungkook?! We ended whatever relationship we had!!! And anyway... who are you to decide who can come to me and who can't?!"
"I love you and you're mine," he said decisively, approaching you. His words "you're mine" made your legs refuse to hold you up. "No other man will ever touch you again."
You shook your head, confused by the feelings Jungkook aroused in you. He was driving you crazy, and it was too much.
"Why?" you asked angry, "Why did you even come?"
Jungkook took another step toward you, but didn't touch you.
"I came because I can't live without you," he said hoarsely. "Because you're the only person who makes me unable to work, unable to sleep, unable to kill without a shadow of a doubt. Do you understand, Y/N? You've ruined me. I just... don't know what to do."
You turned away. You couldn't bear his gaze any longer. You couldn't tell him the truth. Not yet. But it was knocking in your throat like a nail.
"You're acting like you own me. I don't belong to you! We can't be together because I don't know you... I never really knew you, damn it," you said painfully. You felt terrible fatigue, fatigue from everything that had been happening in your life since Jungkook arrived. You loved him, but he turned your life into hell.
Jungkook took another step toward you. You felt your heart begin to beat even faster. But not from fear. From something else. From the same damn closeness that had once drawn you to him.
"You know me, baby," his voice became low, hoarse, and husky again from restrained emotions. You stood as if nailed to the floor. Your heart was pounding in your ears. He was so close that you could hear his breath, see his lips move, feel his fingers clench. Jungkook was tense, like a string. "I was myself with you,"
"You lied to me," you interrupted, looking angrily into his eyes.
"I didn't lie. I didn't tell you, and that's different," he defended himself.
"No, Jungkook, they're not different things! Hiding the truth with lies or silence doesn't change the fact. You can easily kill someone and think it's normal, but for me it's unacceptable. I don't want to spend my whole life fearing for my life because one of your enemies wants revenge, or hiding my whole life so that no one finds out about us. I want a normal life, a normal boyfriend, a husband, not all this..."
Silence fell again — this time deafening, almost painful. You stood in front of him, your eyes red, breathing heavily, as if you had just run out of a burning house. And in a sense, that was exactly what it was. Jungkook was a fire. Beautiful, dazzling, dangerous.
He was silent. He just stared. There was pain in his eyes. So much that you felt it like a blow. And yet you didn't back down.
"Go," you said, quietly but clearly. "Go, Jungkook. Please. And don't come to me anymore... forget the way to my house." These words flew out of you like shards of glass that you yourself had swallowed. And each one hurt. But they had to be said. Because if not, you would drown. In him. In all of this. He looked at you for a few more seconds. Long seconds. Then he lowered his eyes and, without a word, turned and walked away. All you could hear was his heavy footsteps echoing in your head.
When you were left alone, the silence became unbearable. It cut you. It breathed down your back, into your chest, into your neck. It was as if the world you had so longed for — peaceful, safe, normal — had suddenly turned out to be empty.
Without him.
You sank to the floor, unable to stand. Your shoulders shook, and tears streamed down your cheeks.
"Idiot..." you whispered through your sobs. "Damned, beloved idiot..."
You covered your face with your hands, trying to muffle the sound of your own crying. But your emotions burst out like a broken dam: fear, anger, love, guilt, pain.
He hurt you. Very badly. But for some reason, now that he was gone, you felt most acutely how much you loved him. And how deeply this truth tore you apart.
And the fact that you were pregnant with his child made the whole situation even more complicated. You put one hand on your stomach, as if you could feel your child inside you. Tears mixed with whispers:
"I don't know what to do either..."
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You sat in front of the TV, holding a bucket of pistachio ice cream balanced on a pillow comfortably placed on your legs. Each bite of ice cream melted in your mouth, bringing fleeting joy. The sweet taste and coolness helped you forget, if only for a moment, everything that was buzzing in your head. A drama was unfolding on the screen — the main character was suffering from the bullying of her boss, the CEO, who was the hottest man in the entire series. It was obvious that they would become a couple.
"First he says you're useless, and then he'll run after you like a puppy. Why are these men so complicated?" You snorted at your own comment, but inside you felt your thoughts trying to return to Jungkook again and again. His visit a few days ago, his words, his gaze — it was all like a shadow clinging to you, even though you tried to shake it off. You took a deep breath, stuffed another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth, and thought that now you had a child to take care of. And that was your most precious thing right now. You decided it was time to shift your focus — to yourself, to the future, to the baby who was already a part of you.
Your thoughts were interrupted by a memory of a conversation with Donmin. The day after that night, you dialed his number, feeling your throat tighten with awkwardness. "Donmin, I'm sorry about yesterday," you said, trying to sound calm. "Jungkook... we have a complicated relationship, but we broke up. For good." He replied that he was worried that Jungkook would hurt you, but you assured him that he would never do that. At least, not physically. Donmin suggested meeting for coffee, but you postponed the meeting, citing "food poisoning" and feeling unwell. "Give me a couple of days, and we'll definitely go," you said, and he agreed, though there was a slight sadness in his voice.
Suddenly, your phone vibrated on the sofa, pulling you out of your thoughts. You glanced at the screen — a message from Sajin. You slowly, even bored, picked up your phone, thinking she was just asking how you were doing. You opened the chat and your eyes widened: on the screen was a photo of her hand with a sparkling ring. The ice cream bucket almost slipped out of your hands, and you gasped. With trembling hands, you found her number and dialed it.
"Girl, is this a photo from Pinterest or are you really getting married?" you exclaimed when she picked up the phone. She laughed, and her laughter was so contagious that you couldn't help but smile even wider.
"Jimin proposed!" she said, her voice ringing with joy. "Today on the waterfront. He got down on one knee, can you believe it? I even cried!"
You both squealed with excitement. You listened as she recounted how he had lured her to the waterfront when she didn't want to go, and how nervous Jimin's voice had been when he took out the ring. Her joy warmed your heart, and you said sincerely,
"Sajin, I'm so happy for you! You and Jimin are just perfect together." She thanked you and then gently asked how you were feeling.
"Everything's fine," you replied, trying to sound carefree, "Well, except for the toxicosis, which comes and goes." You didn't mention that Jungkook had come over. Now was not the right time to talk about him. You didn't want to spoil her moment with your confused feelings.
You chatted a little more, then said goodbye. The news of Sajin and Jimin's engagement warmed you all day, and you even caught yourself dreaming of the same happiness — simple, without the shadows of the past.
That evening, your phone vibrated again. It was Sajin.
"Y/N, Jimin and I have decided to throw an engagement party!" she said, her voice excited. "So I wanted to invite you because... I can't do it without my maid of honor..."
You froze, and your heart began to beat faster.
"Sa... maid of honor... Do you really want me to be it?" You were touched that your friend wanted you to be her maid of honor.
"Yes, I don't just want you to be my maid of honor, you will be and that's final," she said with a smile.
"By then, I’ll already be showing a big bump when you get married," you said.
"We haven't set a date for the wedding yet, but if you're uncomfortable because of your big bump, I'll convince Jimin to get married before you get uncomfortable," Sajin assured you. You laughed into the phone.
"What are you talking about? It's your wedding, you don't have to adjust it to suit me..."
"You know, my dear, that I would do anything that you will be my maid of honor," your friend said decisively. You laughed again.
"You're crazy..."
Your friend laughed just as hard.
"Yes, I am. So, what do you say? Will you come tomorrow?" She sounded excited again.
"Of course I'll come," you said happily.
"I knew you wouldn't say no," Sajin cleared her throat and then began timidly, "Y/N, dear, we're not going to invite many people. Jimin wants to invite his friends, remember the ones who were at my birthday party?"
You remembered the five guys who were Jimin's best friends.
"Yes, I remember them."
"So they'll all be there and... you know..." She began to mumble, and you instantly guessed why she was doing so, but you didn't interrupt her with your guesses. You remained silent, waiting for her to talk about him. "Jimin also invited Jungkook..." You remained silent, not reacting out loud, although you felt pricked at your heart, "but it's not certain that he'll be there. I'm not sure if he'll come because Jimin said he has some 'business' to attend to. But Jimin try to persuaded him, and, well, you know, he invited all his friends, so I couldn't tell him not to invite him..."
You felt your heart racing and a struggle erupted in your head. You didn't want to see him. You didn't want to feel that whirlwind of emotions he caused again. But deep down, you knew you were lying to yourself — you desperately wanted to see him, even if only for a moment, even if only from a distance. Even though you were angry with him for his last visit.
"It's okay, Sajin," you said, forcing your voice to sound confident. "I'll come. If he's there, I'll just ignore him. And I won't stay long, because the smell of food and alcohol makes me nauseous."
Sajin exhaled with relief.
"I love my understanding bestie! I'll be there so he doesn't even think about coming over. I promise!" she said, and you both laughed, although your smile was a little tense.
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You stood in front of the mirror, taking one last look at yourself. The summer cappuccino-colored dress gently hugged your waist, hiding your still-imperceptible belly. You reassured yourself that you would be able to ignore him, if he was there, of course. You told yourself you didn't want to see him, but a small, treacherous part of you trembled with anticipation.
You arrived at Jimin's house as the sun was setting, flooding the backyard with warm golden light. The yard was decorated with garlands swaying between the trees, and in the center stood a long table with snacks, drinks, miniature cakes, and various appetizers. Music played from the speakers—light house mixed with pop hits, creating a relaxed atmosphere.
You arrived before the party started. Your dress swayed in the light evening breeze, and you tried your best to contain your emotions. You congratulated Sajin and Jimin on their engagement. After that, you went to greet the guests and your acquaintances. Your gaze constantly wandered, searching for him. But Jungkook was not there. Your heart sank in a mixture of relief and disappointment. You had hoped he would come, even though you were afraid of this meeting.
You took a glass of non-alcoholic cocktail — you avoided alcohol because of your pregnancy — and walked to the edge of the courtyard, where it was a little quieter. From there, you could see the garden lit up with fairy lights, and you tried to focus on the music, your friends' laughter, anything but him. But your disappointment grew.
"He's not coming," you thought, and the thought stung.
Half an hour later, Sajin called you to help carry another plate of snacks from the kitchen. You followed her, trying to hide your sadness. The kitchen was noisy: several of Jimin's friends were joking around as they opened another bottle of wine, and Sajin was bustling about, giving instructions. You took the plate of canapés and were already heading back to the yard when the door opened and Jiminwalked in. And behind him was Jungkook.
You froze. His dark eyes immediately found yours, and the world around you seemed to slow down. He was standing there in a denim jacket and black T-shirt under that hugged his body and jeans, with the same tattoos on his arm that you loved to run your fingers over. His gaze was intense, as if he saw only you among all the guests. You felt your heart pounding, and your fingers gripped the plate so tightly that you were afraid you would crush it.
Jungkook didn't take his eyes off you, and you noticed his lips twitch slightly, as if he wanted to smile but was holding himself back. Jimin, oblivious to the tension, tell to everyone in the kitchen loudly:
"Hey, where did you get this wine? It was for a special occasion,"
"Isn't an engagement party a special occasion?" Yoongi asked sarcastically.
Sajin turned around when she noticed Jungkook.
"Jungkook! You came after all!" she exclaimed, rushing towards him, and you could hear fake happiness in her voice. She knew what was going on between you two, and you knew that your friend didn't want Jungkook to come. He hugged her lightly, smiling.
"How could I miss your engagement, Sa?" he said, his voice as Sajin's. "Congratulations. Jimin is a lucky man."
Sajin thanked him as she returned to the table to continue preparing the food, casting you a worried glance.
"Hi," you heard Jungkook's voice nearby. While you were looking at Sajin, you didn't notice him approaching. You swallowed, trying to control yourself.
"Hi," you replied, feeling your voice tremble. Your emotions were on edge, but you forced yourself to smile, even though it came out crooked.
He held your gaze for a moment longer, as if trying to read your thoughts, then nodded and walked over to the other guests, greeting his friends. His movements were confident, but you noticed him glancing at you from time to time. Each glance burned, as if reminding you of everything that had happened between you.
Sajin turned to you, her eyebrows slightly raised.
"Are you okay?" she asked quietly, touching your elbow. You forced yourself to nod, even though your chest was burning.
"Yes, I'm fine," you lied, lowering your eyes to the plate in your hands.
She narrowed her eyes, clearly not believing you, but didn't press the issue.
"All right, but if you need anything, I'm here. Come on, let's put this on the table."
You followed her, feeling his presence weighing on you like an invisible burden. A few minutes later, Jungkook, Jimin, Yoongi, and Namjoon appeared in the courtyard. He laughed with his friends, raising his glass, but you knew his eyes were still searching for you. And you weren't sure you could get through the evening.
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Sajin stayed close to you most of the time, making sure you felt comfortable. She knew this evening wasn't easy for you. But with every passing minute, she began to be distracted by other guests. Greetings, conversations — she became the center of attention, as befits a bride.
And at some point, you were left alone.
In fact, it was a relief. Finally, you didn't have to pretend. You didn't have to smile cheerfully at Sajin, assuring her that everything was fine. Because it wasn't. Inside, you were in turmoil — every minute that Jungkook was nearby, every glance you caught out of the corner of your eye — it all tore you apart.
You slowly approached the drinks table, grabbed a bottle of water, feeling your palm tremble slightly as you opened the cap. You took a sip and suddenly heard a familiar voice.
"Y/N, are you hiding from the fun?" Turning around, you saw Jimin walking towards the table with a broad smile, and next to him were Jungkook. Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to remain casual, clutching the cold bottle in your hand.
"No, I'm not hiding, I'm waiting for Sajin," you said, the first thing that came to mind. You forced yourself to smile, ignoring the burning gaze of Jungkook, who was standing nearby and not taking his eyes off you.
"You look so tired," Jimin remarked.
"Yes, I came to see you after work, it was a stressful day," you smiled awkwardly, continuing to lie.
Jungkook was silent, but you could feel his presence, like an electric charge in the air. You noticed that Jungkook hadn't approached you all evening, obviously respecting your boundaries.
You glanced at him quickly when he approached the table, picked up a bottle of whiskey, and poured himself a glass. His movements were calm, but you noticed how his fingers clenched the glass slightly. Jimin, seeing this, exclaimed cheerfully,
"Hey, Jungkook, pour me one too. Look at him, he didn't even offer!"
Jungkook grunted briefly as he poured whiskey into Jimin's glass.
"Here you go, groom," he said with a barely noticeable smile, but his gaze returned to you. You looked away, focusing on your conversation with Jimin.
"By the way, why are you drinking water?" Jimin suddenly noticed. "It's a party!" He quickly took a glass of champagne from the table and handed it to you. "Here, take it, let's drink together!"
You didn't take the glass and were about to lie about you had food poisoning when suddenly Sajin appeared out of nowhere. She quickly snatched the glass from Jimin's hands, her eyes flashing with indignation.
"Are you crazy? She can't drink alcohol right now!" she exclaimed, putting the glass back on the table.
Jimin and Jungkook froze, their eyes instantly shifting from Sajin to you. Jimin raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Why can’t?" he asked, clearly confused.
You felt your heart pound, and Sajin hesitated for a moment. Her eyes darted to you, as if she were asking for help. So you quickly spoke up.
"I had food poisoning, so I don't drink alcohol," you said and saw your friend's face relax. You also knew that Jungkook remembered how you vomited in front of him a few days ago and would probably believe this lie. But his gaze was too intense, as if he sensed that there was more to it.
Fortunately, Jimin didn't ask any questions.
"Oh, Y/N, I'm sorry, I didn't know! How are you now? Are you feeling okay?" he asked with sincere concern.
"Everything's fine, don't worry," you replied, forcing your voice to sound confident, even though you were trembling inside. Jungkook's gaze became insistent, and you felt like there was nowhere to hide from him.
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Your phone showed 2% battery. You went to your car to get your charger because you weren't ready to go home yet, even though you probably needed to rest. But for some reason, you wanted to stay at the party longer.
You told Sajin that you would be back soon and left the yard, feeling relieved by the silence and cool night air.
Once on the road, you noticed Jungkook and Taehyung standing leaning against the fence. They were smoking cigarettes, their voices were quiet, but you could hear snippets of their conversation — something about mutual acquaintances and some "business."
You glanced at them quickly, trying not to attract attention, and walked to the car parked near the house.
Opening the door, you bent down to get the charger from the glove compartment. Your heart was racing, and you tried to focus on what you were doing, but suddenly you heard footsteps behind you. Turning around, you saw Jungkook. He was walking toward you slowly, smoking a cigarette. You closed the door of your car and wanted to go, listening to your pulse pounding in your temples, but Jungkook approached, blocking your way to the house.
"How are you feeling?" he asked in his usual voice. You tried not to look at him so that he wouldn't notice your nervousness.
"I'm fine," you lied for the hundredth time that evening. You tried to take a step forward, but Jungkook took a step with you. You tried again, and Jungkook did the same. You gave him an angry look, but he just tilted his head back and exhaled the last puff of smoke from his cigarette into the air. You watched the smoke from his cigarette dissolve into the air, just like your desire to walk away from him. Too faster.
Jungkook finished his cigarette and threw it on the asphalt, crushing it with his massive sneaker. He looked into your eyes, and you saw what you were most afraid to see — determination mixed with impatience. But he remained calm on the outside, only the corners of his lips curving into a slight smile.
"How long are you going to keep ignoring me?" he asked you directly. You raised your eyebrows in indignation.
"To the rest of my life, because you didn't understand all the words I said to you before," your voice sounded dry, but inside you were trembling. Jungkook snorted.
"Can you really do it?" he asked again, but more softly, more playfully. Your heart fluttered. You both knew it would be difficult for you, but you assured yourself that you could do it.
"I can," you said decisively, looking into his shining eyes. Jungkook looked at your face for a moment, then took a slow step toward you. You felt his perfume hit your nostrils. That scent that drives you crazy. Jungkook leaned toward your face, leaving only a few inches between you.
"So you really think you can find another man? Date him...?" His low bass voice echoed in every cell of your body. You instinctively took a step back, but Jungkook stepped forward, unwilling to lose your closeness. "He'll fuck you, you'll have fun on dates... and you think he'll be better than me?"
You froze when you felt yourself bump into your car. Jungkook placed both hands on either side of your face. You were burning with his closeness, his voice, his scent. He was close, but you couldn't even allow yourself to touch him, even though that was the most you wanted to do right now. You forced yourself to look away from his inviting lips and said with a smile.
"Yes," your answer is like a knife in heart, "I'll be able to find a guy who doesn't come over at night and who doesn't just want to fuck me. And when he shows up, I'll quickly forget about you..." you said what you wanted, but even you were hurt by those words, because you don't want any other man but Jungkook, but you can't be with him. Even though you are pregnant with his child. This fact makes you feel happy because a part of Jungkook will always be with you.
Jungkook, hearing your words and seeing your smile, felt himself losing any remaining self-control. He leaned in, pressing his body against yours. You felt his warm body warming you from the night wind.
"You little liar. Even if you find such a jerk, you won't stop loving me," he looked alternately into your eyes and and then at lips, "And the ironic thing is that I feel the same way. I will never be able to love anyone else because I have never loved anyone… but you. You... you are the only one who has touched my heart."
You closed your eyes as you listened to his words. It was both euphoric and cursed. It was a dream to hear such words from him, but what now? Your relationship is doomed to failure... Jungkook kills people and is involved in crime. You're not sure you can handle these things.
You felt his fingers touch your jaw. He gently, almost weightlessly, ran them along your jaw, down to your neck.
"What should we do, baby? What should we do with the love we have?"
You didn't know what to do. In fact, you didn't have a single useful thought, because the only thing you could think about was Jungkook and his closeness. Desire flared between your thighs, and you wanted to hit yourself for the fact that your feelings were still so strong. They hadn't diminished one bit, but seemed to have only intensified.
"I don't know," you whispered, opening your eyes. Jungkook was leaning over you. His breath burned your lips. He smelled of whiskey and cigarettes. Your breathing quickened.
The next moment, you felt his lips on yours. Everything disappeared for a moment. The sounds, the wind, the asphalt. All you could feel were his lips touching yours. He didn't hold back, deepening the kiss, kissing you greedily, intertwining your tongues. You felt a throbbing between your legs, and you became wet. Jungkook's hand found your buttock under your dress. He squeezed your skin hard, digging his nails into your buttock. You kissed him, enjoying every movement. You missed him so much, his lips, his hands that explored every curve of your body.
In an instant, you forgot everything that had happened between you and how difficult it was. All that mattered now was him.
Jungkook had no intention of ending this hot and desperate kiss. His teeth bit your lower lip, almost painfully, and let it go with a soft, wet smack, he immediately kissed you again. His hands became bolder, and the next moment you felt his palm slip under your underwear. When he touched your center, you gasped. You felt how wet you were on his fingers.
You broke the kiss, breathing rapidly, and tried not to moan.
"Kook..." you called him, squeezing his broad shoulders until your fingers turned white. He stimulated your clitoris while his lips hotly touched your neck, leaving wet marks. He couldn't stop. He wanted you because he missed you so much. "They might... they might see us," you whispered.
"You're dripping on my fingers, how can I stop, baby?" he asked right into your lips. Your body trembled from his touch, and your mind clouded over, as if the whole world had narrowed to his fingers, which caressed you confidently. Jungkook didn't stop, his movements were rhythmic, insistent. His words buzzed in your head, and you felt a wave of pleasure rolling in stronger and stronger.
"Jungkook... we can't... not here," you whispered, but your voice was weak, almost pleading. You wanted him to stop, but at the same time you begged him to continue. Your body betrayed you, responding to his every movement, and you knew he could feel it.
He raised his head, his eyes shining in the darkness, filled with desire.
"Screw it," he whispered hoarsely, his fingers quickening their rhythm, making you gasp. "You see, baby, here's the truth... You can lie to yourself, but your body knows the truth. You're mine, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep us together."
His words hit you like an electric shock, mixing fear and euphoria. You couldn't respond — your hips trembled, and a wave of orgasm washed over you suddenly, making you moan softly. You clung to his denim jacket, burying your face in his shoulder to muffle the sounds. Jungkook held you by the waist while you came to your senses. His breath was hot against your ear, and you could feel him smiling.
He moved away and finally took his hand off your underwear. He brought his finger, which had been on your pussy a moment ago, to his lips and licked it, never taking his satisfied gaze off you.
He licked his finger, then pressed it to your lips again. You could taste a faint hint of yourself on his tongue.
Jungkook broke the kiss. He adjusted your dress and his T-shirt. You followed his movements and when you looked down at his jeans, you saw a bulge that was too noticeable. Jungkook noticed where you were looking and, meeting your concerned gaze, said:
"I'll calm down, don't worry, baby, I won't go to the guests with a hard on."
He smiled broadly, and you couldn't help but smile at his comment. But when the smile slipped from your lips, you finally realized what had just happened.
Your body was still buzzing from the post-orgasmic sensations, and your cheeks were burning. You nervously squeezed the charger you had been holding all this time, feeling shame and desire fighting inside you. How could he? Just bring you to the edge here on the road by your car, as if it cost him nothing? He was always like that, not caring about the situation around him. If he wanted it, it happened anywhere.
"You go first, I'll have a smoke," Jungkook said, pulling you out of your thoughts. You shook your head, glanced at him briefly, and quickly walked away without even turning around.
You returned to the party, holding the charger tightly, but you no longer needed it.
The music and voices of the guests blended into a single hum, the party continued, and you tried to look normal. But every time you caught a glimpse of Jungkook, who returned to the courtyard ten minutes after you, your cheeks flushed, and you looked away. He was standing with his friends, holding a glass of whiskey, and you noticed his lips curving into a sly smile when he caught your gaze. He knew what you were thinking about him. He knew you couldn't forget that moment by the car. And that annoyed you even more.
Sajin turned to you when she saw you standing by the snack table, and her eyebrows furrowed slightly.
"Are you okay? You look kind of... red," she said, touching your shoulder.
You realized you wanted to go home. Jungkook's presence and what he had done to you made you feel tense. Sajin looked at you with concern, but fortunately she didn't notice your and Jungkook's simultaneous absence. You couldn't tell her what had happened. Not now, when she was beaming with happiness at her party.
"If honesty, Sa... I'm tired... I think it's time for me to go," you said softly, feigning disappointment. Sajin pouted and hugged you.
"I'm sad... but your health comes first! If you're tired, then you really should go home and rest," she leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, "You stayed longer than you promised, and that made me happy."
You smiled your warmest smile.
"Actually, I'm the one who's happy. I'm very happy for you and Jimin. You two are such a beautiful couple. I really want you to carry your love through your whole life."
Sajin was touched by your words and hugged you tightly again.
"I want that kind of happiness for you too..." She glanced to the side, and you guessed that she was looking at Jungkook. You restrained yourself from looking in his direction. "And I know you'll find a worthy man who will love you."
You smiled awkwardly, feeling like a criminal who had committed a terrible crime. You didn't want anyone else, really, you wanted Jongkook to be that worthy man for you, but life likes to play jokes, especially on you.
You said goodbye to Jimin and a few other guests, avoiding Jungkook, and quickly went to the car. Driving home, you could feel his touch still burning on your skin, and his words spinning in your head.
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When you got home, the first thing you did was take a shower. The hot water ran over your skin, but it couldn't wash away the feeling of his fingers, his lips, his voice. You closed your eyes, and the memories flooded back. How he kissed you, how his hands squeezed your thighs, how he brought you to orgasm by the car. Your body burned with desire again, and you were angry with yourself for it. Why can't you just forget him? Why does your heart still yearn for him, despite everything?
After getting out of the shower, you went to bed, but sleep wouldn't come. You tossed and turned, trying in vain to fall asleep. Several hours passed, and you tried to distract yourself with your phone, but even that didn't help. You put your phone on the bedside table and stared at the ceiling, your thoughts returning to Jungkook.
Was there even the slightest hope of being together? His words — "I'll do everything to make us be together" — sounded so sincere that for the first time you felt hope stirring inside you. What if he could change? Give up his dark deeds, leave that world that scares you? You put your hand on your stomach, feeling the warmth under your fingers. How would he react if he found out you were pregnant? Would it change him? Would he want to be with you and the baby?
But fear prevailed. What if he didn't change? What if he continued to lie, kill, disappear? What if one day he just left you, as he had done before? You were afraid, but he was everything you wanted. His eyes, his voice, his touch — it was all part of you, and you couldn't deny it.
You got out of bed, feeling anxiety tighten your chest, and went to the living room and grabbed your bag. You went back to the bedroom looking for the ultrasound photo you had left there.
After taking the picture, you sat down on the bed and stared at the small gray circle for a long time. You stroked it with your fingers, as if trying to feel a connection with the child — your child with him. You pressed the photo to your chest, and tears rolled down your cheeks.
"What should I do? I love him," you whispered, addressing no one in particular.
Suddenly, you heard a knock at the door. Your heart stopped. For a few seconds, you sat motionless, listening to your own heartbeat. You thought you had imagined it, but the knock repeated itself, and this time it sounded clearer.
You knew who it could be. You quickly put the photo back in your bag, leaving it on the bedside table, and ran to the door, quickly wiping tears from eyes. You were in such a hurry that you didn't even glance at the digital clock in the living room.
It was 4:15.
Your breathing became ragged, your hand trembled as you touched the doorknob. You held your breath and opened the door.
Jungkook. He stood in the doorway, his dark eyes shining in the semi-darkness, a slight, almost tender smile playing on his lips. He didn't look drunk, but the fatigue in his eyes was noticeable — as if he hadn't slept, just like you. His black hoodie was slightly wrinkled, and the tattoos on his arm looked even more striking in the dim light.
"Don’t sleep?" he asked. You pressed your lips together, nervous about his appearance.
"I couldn't sleep," you said truthfully.
"I know you said to forget the way to your house," he began, his voice was piercing. "But I can't listen to you..." He smiled, and you felt butterflies in your stomach. You swear that no one in the world has a more beautiful smile than this man.
You looked at him and saw that he wasn't giving up, despite all your words, despite your attempts to push him away. And with each visit, your wall of resistance crumbled more.
"Once you forgot for a few months," you said ironically.
He touched the door, pushing it slightly to enter, and approached you. The scent of his perfume and the faint aroma of cigarette smoke hit your nostrils, and you felt your knees weaken.
"I never forgot," he said seriously. "From our first day together until today, I've been here every night."
You almost choked on his confession. Jungkook approached you with slow steps, and you already knew you had surrendered. He took the last step that brought him very close to you, and in the next moment, his lips covered yours. The kiss was slow but deep, full of passion. You responded, unable to resist, your arms wrapped around his neck, and his fingers squeezed your buttocks, pulling you closer. His tongue intertwined with yours, and you felt the heat spread throughout your body.
His kiss was insatiable, but not at all rushed. He seemed to savor every moment, every breath between you, while your body burned in his embrace. As always when he kissed you, you lost all sense of reality. There was only his presence, his lips, his hands, which made you forget everything else in the world.
Jungkook led you to the bedroom. He knew this route so well because he had led you there dozens of times when he came over.
When you reached the bed, his hands slid under your thin house top, baring your skin. He laid you on the bed, hastily removing his black hoodie and tossing it aside. His hoodie knocked over the bag you had left on the bedside table, but neither of you noticed. All that mattered was the two of you, here, now.
Jungkook climbed on top of you, pressing down with his weight. He kissed you on the lips, completely taking possession of your mouth, then slowly moved down to your neck. He kissed you, savoring every inch of your body, unable to believe that this was real. That after so long, he was with you again.
His lips moved even lower. He leaned on his knees and hands, as if bowing before you. He took your nipple into his mouth and sucked on it. Jungkook's tongue circled your sensitive nipple, caressing it gently, and you arched towards him, unable to hold back the moan that escaped your throat.
He made you forget everything — who you were, what was happening between you, that tomorrow would bring another day with its dark side. Now there was only him, his hot breath on your skin, his tongue mercilessly yet gently circling your nipple, bringing you to the brink.
You dug your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer to you, feeling your whole body tense with new waves of pleasure. He knew you, knew your every weak spot and took advantage of it — slowly, boldly, with his characteristic confidence. As if you had always been and would always be his alone.
"You're so delicious..." he whispered, lightly flicking his tongue across the sensitive skin under your breasts, and rose again to your face. His fingers slid down between your legs, and he paused for a moment, looking into your eyes. Then he slowly slid his hand under your pajama shorts and underwear.
Your stomach tightened as his fingers entered you slowly, carefully, with an attention that made you writhe with pleasure. Your head fell back on the pillow, and a moan dissolved into the air as you closed your eyes, enjoying what Jungkook was doing to you.
"I missed this," he murmured, kissing your shoulder, your neck, and slowly moving his fingers inside you. "Your body... your moans... the way you sigh my name when you can't take it anymore."
You bit your lip, trying to restrain yourself, but to no avail. His touch was gentle but confident, as always. He brought you to the brink and then pulled back, as if teasing you. He liked to see you weak with desire, beneath him — devoted, hot, your eyes full of longing.
When your back arched, he abruptly withdrew his fingers, causing you to moan in disappointment. He hastily removed your shorts and underwear in one motion, and they fell to the floor. A moment later, his tongue moved lower, and a wave of excitement spread through you. All you could do was tremble and dig your fingers into the sheet again.
His tongue licked your clitoris with incredible tenderness. The smooth movements of his tongue made your body contract with pleasure. Jungkook grabbed your hips and you spread your legs wider, opening yourself up to him like a book.
He added his fingers to your passage, moaning in front of your pussy. Jungkook pressed against your clitoris, licking it and simultaneously fucking your passage with two fingers.
You moaned out loud from the sensation his skilled tongue gave you. You hadn't felt this vulnerable in a long time. You couldn't remember the last time he made you feel this way — completely, without shame, without restraint.
You clenched the sheets tightly, knowing that this was the moment. When the orgasm overwhelmed you, you couldn't hold back a cry — muffled, stifled, almost pleading. Jungkook didn't stop — he felt your clitoris twitch, and with a slow, very slow movement of his tongue, he made you stay at the peak longer than you realized. And only when you opened your eyes, barely breathing, did he get up, slowly wiping his chin with the back of his hand from your juices. His tongue licked his lips, taking every last drop of yours.
Jungkook leaned toward you, gently touching your lips—first softly, almost imperceptibly, then deeper, wetter, with the passion you had just felt between your legs. His taste mingled with yours, bringing you to a new level of arousal, as if what had just happened wasn't enough.
"Damn… You're so beautiful," he whispered into your kiss, sliding his hand up your stomach until he found your breasts — large, heavy, sensitive after orgasm. His thumb slowly circled your nipple, and you moaned again, pressing yourself into the bed, unable to control anything anymore.
His gaze was hungry. He no longer just wanted you — he needed you. Having undressed completely, Jungkook lay down between your spread legs, gently but with a determination that always made you tremble.
"I want you so badly..." he growled, and his cock, large and hard, touched your wet entrance.
Jungkook smeared the head of his cock across your pussy, the excess moisture proving how much you wanted him.
He took his time, and it made you frustrated.
"Kook... come in," you moaned. Jungkook leaned over you. You saw his sly smile, which meant he was going to tease you.
"You want my cock? You're so needy?" He leaned close to your ear, still pressing his cock against you but not entering you. "Like a whore?" he whispered. Hearing him call you a whore made your walls tighten. It turned you on even more. You remembered how he first called you a "whore" during sex, and you realized that coming from his mouth, it sounded so hot and not offensive at all. Being a whore for him was your pleasure. He called you that when you made love, but not often, so if he called you a "whore" now, it meant he was aroused to the point of no return.
"Yes," you said, breathing quickly and deeply, "your whore wants your cock."
Jungkook stretched his lips into a quick, sly smile. You felt him press against your entrance, and the next moment he sharply thrust into you, causing pain mixed with sweet pleasure.
You dug your nails into his shoulders, feeling how tense and strong they were.
Jungkook froze inside you. He sighed lowly, his voice vibrating against your ear. In a few seconds, he rose and withdrew almost completely, then entered you slowly, inch by inch, moaning into your lips as you pulled him by the shoulders.
Jungkook kissed you as he moved inside you. You finally belonged to each other again. Your kisses became chaotic, and Jungkook's movements became more rhythmic.
Your body accepted him greedily, dissolving into who he was with every thrust.
"Fuck, baby..." Jungkook moaned, feeling the tightness of your pussy. "Yes, it’s so good..." He fucked you, and you couldn't get enough of the feeling of his cock inside you. His strong body pressed against yours, and his breathing became heavier.
He continued to move inside you, igniting your entire being. A pleasant pleasure pierced your thighs, and his closeness was also intoxicating. Jungkook suddenly stopped, pulled out of you, knelt down, and with one easy movement, as if you weighed nothing, turned you onto your stomach.
Your hair covered your eyes, and you tried to brush it aside. You felt his knees pressing against the sides of your thighs as he leaned down to kiss your shoulders and back. His palms lifted your pelvis slightly, and he entered you. This angle always feels so deep.
Jungkook lay on top of you, and you felt his weight pressing pleasantly against your back. His hands were near your breasts, touching them slightly. You grabbed the pillow and squeezed it, trying to ease your discomfort.
Jungkook made his first deep thrust and you could barely breathe. The way his cock felt from this angle clouded your consciousness. He made another deep, slow thrust and you felt his breathing tremble. He was enjoying himself. Move by move, he sped up, and you began to feel blissful pleasure fill you completely. Jungkook began to move quickly, so sharply that you couldn't hold back your loud moans. He put his hands on yours and moved mercilessly inside you.
You felt his cock harden. That meant he was close. And when you felt your own orgasm building, Jungkook stopped again and pulled out of you. You fell back onto the pillow.
Jungkook turned you back onto your back. He lifted your leg and entered you, penetrating you to the last centimeter. Something like a scream and a moan escaped your lips. Jungkook smiled, enjoying your reaction. He grabbed you under the knee, keeping your leg open to penetrate even deeper, and kissed you.
Your tongues intertwined in a dance of passion, fighting for dominance. Jungkook bit your lip again and let go.
He began to move, setting the pace. Every movement of your bodies led you to unforgettable emotions, and you were both in love and crazy about each other.
"Does my whore like how I fuck her?" you heard his low, breathless voice from arousal. You couldn't answer because as soon as Jungkook asked you, his movements became faster and his penetration deeper. He leaned over, breathing right into your mouth, which was open with pleasure. "Answer me," he said, biting your lips.
"Yes..." you barely managed to say, "yes... damn... it's so good."
Jungkook was pleased with your words. His smile was proof of that. He didn't take his eyes off you, admiring your expression, your tousled hair, enjoying the sounds you made.
Jungkook continued to fuck you to bring you to orgasm, holding back with all his might so as not to cum first.
Jungkook slowed down, he leaned his forehead against your chest and brought you to the brink with deep, sharp movements.
"Mine..." you heard him say quietly, the word seeming to be branded on your skin, "You're only mine... you belong to me," he raised his head. He stopped. You opened your eyes, which had been closed almost the entire time from pleasure, and now looked at him. "Did you hear me, baby? You're only fucking mine," he repeated.
"Kook..." you said his name as a prayer. Jungkook pushed you, not letting you continue. He didn't want to hear any words from you. The fact that you belong to him will not change any of your words. You are close to climax. His quick thrusts into your G-spot hit the spot. The knot that had formed in your lower abdomen finally untied, and your body trembled as a wave of orgasm washed over you, forcing you to arch under Jungkook. Blood roared in your ears, and your moans mingled with his ragged breathing.
He continued to fuck you until his cock was as hard as it could be, and then you felt him moan in your ear as he spilled himself inside you.
It didn't matter anymore because you were pregnant. He jerked, spilling his warm semen inside you, his body tensing above you. You felt him fill you to the brim.
You lay there for a few seconds, not moving, not wanting to leave each other.
Then Jungkook slowly pulled away, his hands gently caressing your thighs before he rolled onto his back next to you. You lay there, trying to catch your breath, feeling your body still trembling from his touch. You turned your head to look at him. His eyes were half-closed, and a slight, satisfied smile played on his lips. But your mind was buzzing with thoughts. You couldn't stay silent any longer.
"Jungkook..." you began quietly, turning to face him. He turned his head, his gaze relaxed and weary.
"Shhh..." he put his finger to his lips, then got up and leaned in to kiss you. He kissed you softly, gently, then said quietly, "Not now. Let's rest, get some sleep. We'll talk about everything later today. I promise," his voice was soft but firm.
You raised your eyebrows in surprise.
"Are you... are you staying here?" you asked, feeling your heart skip a beat. You didn't expect him to want to stay the night. He had never stayed overnight at your place before.
Jungkook smiled, his hand lazily stroking your thighs.
"Yes. I want to sleep with you... preferably until noon. I'm so tired..." he muttered, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. His breath caressed your skin, and you felt warmth spreading through your chest, despite all your doubts. You let him stay, even though you knew it might complicate things even more.
"Okay," you whispered, and he smiled at you when he lifted his head, his eyes shining in the darkness.
Jungkook got up from the bed, his muscles tensing as he stretched.
"I'll take the first shower. Rest, baby, you need to recharge, because I did my job well, didn't I?" he said with a sly smile, winking at you.
"To say it was good would be an understatement," you praised him. Jungkook smiled proudly, leaning over you and giving you one last kiss.
You lay back on the pillow, trying not to look at his bare buttocks. Jungkook bent down, picked up his boxer from the floor and pulled them on, then reached for his hoodie, which had fallen on your bag and knocked it to the floor.
He saw that several items had spilled onto the floor. His gaze stopped on a small black-and-white photograph. He froze, picking it up.
His eyes noticed your name and the handwritten note "4 weeks."
You noticed that Jungkook had frozen, his head bowed as if he were looking at something. You felt a wave of panic wash over you, and you propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him.
"Kook..." you called out to him. "What are you doing there?"
He didn't respond right away, his gaze fixed on the photo. Then he slowly turned to you, and you saw his fingers clutching the ultrasound photo.
You looked up at his face and met his eyes, which were wide open, filled with shock. Your heart skipped a beat.
"Are you pregnant?"
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AUTHOR NOTE:
Hello, my dear Army 💜
First of all, I want to apologize for how long it took me to write part 2 for you. But as you may have noticed, it turned out to be very long (I set a new record for a chapter, almost 20,000 words, I've never written more), so I really hope that these two weeks of waiting were worth it 🥺🙏🏻
I wanted to split this chapter into two parts (i.e., publish chapters 2 and 3), but at the last moment I decided to leave it as a single chapter because I think all the scenes I wrote should be one story ☺️
I also want to apologize to those who are waiting for “One Night...” and “No Mercy.” I never forget and I WILL write the sequel, but right now I have very little time to write because of work and my emotional ups and downs, which I experience almost every day 😬 (Honestly, sometimes I think that life is unbearable and I don't know how to live it right so that I suffer less, but it seems that there is no right recipe. I have to work on myself that I can’t take to heart the words of people who are not worth my time. But I am a good person and I am used to acting humanely, but my kindness is used against me, so I am to blame, aren't I? Hahaha, I've said a lot without saying anything specific, but I think I have a lot of work to do on myself 👊🏻)
So, my dear ones, share your impressions of this chapter with me? How do you like it? I wrote it for so long, and I swear I dreamed of publishing it on Wednesday, but this week my headache was killing me, so writing this chapter was so difficult.
I'M SO NERVOUS about the new chapter, I've collected 1500+ notes on part 1, and you just can't imagine how happy I am!! I'M SO HAPPY that so many people liked this story 😭 So I feel a little pressure that this chapter won't live up to your expectations, but I did everything I could ❤️‍🔥
I plan to write one more chapter, which will be the final one, but who knows when that will be? I have to work very hard next month and will only have time at night, but for you, I will do everything in my power ❤️‍🔥 I LOVE YOU ARMY, YOU ARE THE BEST PEOPLE ON EARTH 💜🥰
Thanks to njksfn for the cover photo 💜
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theshelteredbrat · 7 months ago
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hey notes thingy
I need motivation or I fear i might not make it to summer
No limits except the comment section must be full sentences, no random keyboard smash, numbers, or emoji.
15- Ill ask my crush out to the dance (its in a week)
30-Ill start drinking water more
50-Ill try to eat healthier
70-Ill come out to a few people as Nonbinary
100-Ill start using Charlie in school
125-Ill try to go to bed earlier
150-Ill attempt to talk to a close friend about my mental health
200-(this will probably be as far as it gets.) I'll work on my art
250-Ill write a whole page on one of my wip stories
300-Ill plant little wildflowers and watch them grow! Hopefully they'll bring me some joy
350-Ill go beyond basic exercise and actually do what's good for my body.
400-Ill have a contest with myself to see how long I can go without trying to be closer to death. (Walking as close to the cars as possible, stabbing myself with safety pins, etc)
500-Ill try to find a trusted adult to ask about my mental health
600-Ultimate sign to sit down and study French
650-Ill learn a new song on my violin
700-Ill try to secretly buy a chest binder
800-Ill try to secretly buy a cheap phone
850-Ill start saving up money to move out as soon as I graduate
900-Ill throw away some self harm tools
950-Ill talk with a trusted adult about my suicidal thoughts
1000-Ill talk to my parents about my mental health and hopefully getting some help
No pressure, it js didn't work last time and I don't have a will to live so haha. Knock yourselves out
THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH, YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME. I MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO DO THESE ALL RIGHT AWAY BUT ILL TRY, I PROMISE. TYSM.
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capuccinodoll · 3 months ago
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The boyfriend act, part 12: "The one when nothing happens" Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader SERIES MASTERLIST
Chapter summary: Emma is in town, and it’s Benny’s birthday. Just a simple night out at the bar—or so you think. But the space Frankie has carefully placed between you stirs something unexpected. WC: 18,6k
Pd: This is for all of us, we lost our husband yesterday so I hope this brings you joy ❤️‍🩹 #ripJoelMiller I will always love you.
A/N: heheh *rubs hands together like a mosquito* Thank you so much for reading and for your lovely comments!!!! If you want to be in the tag list, let me know. Don't forget to follow capuccinodollupdates for notifications!
You didn’t step back. He did.
The silence between you had always been there, in your dynamic, a familiar presence in the room, but this one carried a different kind of weight. Not heavier, necessarily—just changed. Altered somehow.
The days folded in on themselves. A quiet rhythm took over—early mornings filled with emails and half-drunk coffee, afternoons swallowed by errands, small domestic rituals. No Frankie.
On monday, Bill stopped by. He brought you a cappuccino and a chocolate muffin with a paper napkin tucked under it like it mattered. He told you about an idea he couldn’t shake, a proposal: books in the coffee shop. Not a whole bookstore, just shelves. Corners of stories.
It started with Juliette, apparently—she’d been in one afternoon, tucked into the window seat with a paperback and a mug of hot chocolate, and later at home, she told him, casually, “You should have books. So people can read if they want.”
That one sentence stayed with him. He couldn’t let it go.
So now he wanted your help. What do people like to read while they’re alone but surrounded by other people? What kind of books feel like company without requiring too much of you? Should there be poetry? Cookbooks? Art? He talked about adding narrow shelves along the wall near the tables, maybe even building them in himself. It might take a while, he said, but it was doable. Manageable. And lucky for him, you lived next door.
He asked if you’d make the list. Choose the books. He said he’d buy them from you—of course he would—and he’d pay for your time, too.
“Thinking and curating isn’t free,” he said, when you teased that maybe he could just pay in muffins and coffee. Not that he’d ever really charged you properly anyway.
So you said yes. You kept a notepad beside your computer, filling it with titles in between emails and phone calls, between folding laundry and watching the sun move across the living room floor. You took naps on the couch beside Mr. Darcy, made simple dinners, rewatched old movies where the endings still made you ache.
Still, no Frankie.
Because he didn’t call. And he didn’t write to you either.
And you told yourself it was fine. Normal, even. There was no real reason for him to reach out. Except, of course, there was. A quiet reason. One that lingered in the corners of your thinking, never quite announcing itself, but never really leaving either. At the same time, there was also a reason not to reach out. An equally plausible, equally logical reason. So you chose not to dwell on it. You folded the thought in half and tucked it somewhere you didn’t have to look at.
Another week passed, almost unregistered by your body. No Frankie.
No messages lighting up your screen. No phone calls. No familiar knock at your door. The silence began to feel structural. Built-in.
You saw Santi on tuesday night over dinner. He brought empanadas and a bottle of wine, and you ate on the couch while a movie played behind your conversation. He didn’t mention Frankie. You waited, half-listening, hoping for some accidental update, some passing reference. But it never came.
Instead, he talked about the skydiving. Said he was still stunned you’d gone through with it, and then launched into a long, slightly theatrical complaint about not being invited. You laughed. Promised to go again with him next time. He made you swear it.
Then, more cautiously, he asked about the situation with Frankie. The two of you. The fake relationship.
You didn’t lie. You told him the truth—or a version of it. That things were going well. That you and Frankie had found a sort of rhythm. That you were getting along better now. That was technically accurate.
He looked at you for a moment like he was trying to read between your words, but he smiled eventually. Told you he was glad to hear it.
You almost asked about him. You nearly said, Have you seen him? Has he said anything? How is he?
But you didn’t. You changed the subject. Something about work, or maybe the movie. You can’t remember now.
The rest of the week slipped by in the same quiet way. Bill kept you busy. There were lists to write, catalogues to browse through.
On thursday you met Juliette, finally, at the coffee shop.
She was clever and observant, in that way some people are from a very young age, like they’ve always known how to listen carefully. She had shoulder-length brown hair, and enormous green eyes that didn’t seem to miss much. She had her mother’s sharpness, according to Bill. 
You liked her. She liked you too. That shouldn’t have mattered so much, but it did. There was something grounding about it, as if her approval—casual as it was—validated something inside you that had been unsteady for a while.
Emma arrived on friday. You saw her car pull up in front of your house, the familiar dent on the left side of the bumper, the same soft pop of the door as she got out. You didn’t wait. You ran down the steps and into her arms, almost tripping over the welcome mat in your rush.
She smelled like citrus perfume and coconut shampoo, a scent so distinctly hers that it made your throat catch for a moment. Like summer and high school and safety.
You closed the bookstore a little earlier than usual. Turned the sign, locked the door, didn’t even pretend to feel guilty about it. You both went out for pasta—her favorite place, the one with the mismatched chairs and the faded mural on the back wall. The waiter already knew your order.
You already knew the basics, of course. She’d told you everything over the phone, in a string of late-night calls and voice notes sent during walks to work or while she folded laundry. But face to face, everything hit different. The tone, the pauses, the way her hands moved when she talked. It all filled in the spaces her words had left empty.
She told you about the divorce—not dramatically, just plainly.
Yes, it was real. Yes, it was happening. But no, it wasn’t awful. They were still friends, weirdly. Comfortably, even.
You liked Luca. Everyone did. He had a warm, easy energy and a really nice laugh. Emma had met him on a summer vacation a few years ago—something casual at first, then not casual at all. It had been fast, she told you once, in that breathless way people do when they’re still stunned by their own feelings.
He was kind. Charming. Funny in the kind of way that didn’t try too hard.
But it hadn’t worked out. Not because they fought. Not because they stopped loving each other. But because of something bigger, something she couldn’t control, something neither of them had the language for at first.
Irreconcilable differences, she said lightly, sipping her wine. Then she clarified, smiling in that half-sad, half-resigned way she had: irreconcilable differences being that he fell in love with the Michael, the bartender at the place they used to go to every other friday. The place where he went more often than she did.
It hadn’t been messy, at least not in the external sense. No shouting. No broken plates across kitchen counters. Just quiet revelations and truths that had been waiting patiently beneath the surface.
She said she wasn’t angry. Not really. More shocked than anything. There’d been signs, small ones, that she’d ignored. Not out of naivety, but maybe out of self-preservation. You understood that. Completely.
And when he finally told her—haltingly, kindly, honestly—she had listened. She had nodded. She had said it was okay, even if it wasn’t. Because she loved him.
You took her to one of those rage rooms on the edge of town. The kind where you wear safety goggles and throw ceramic plates against concrete walls. You both paid extra to smash an old television with a baseball bat.
You screamed until your voice cracked. She laughed so hard she had to sit down. It wasn’t therapy exactly, but it helped. It was something.
And that night, when you lay side by side in bed, hair still wet from the shower, your fingers brushing in the dark, she whispered, “I think I’m going to be okay.” And you believed her.
Emma was doing better now. You could see it in the way she moved around your living room, humming absently while waiting for the kettle, not checking her phone every five minutes. Luca had been out of the house for a couple of months, and the divorce, as far as divorces went, was being kind. Quiet. Almost courteous. Like two people respectfully folding their shared history into neat piles and placing it in separate drawers.
He hadn’t said anything about Michael and their relationship status—not explicitly. And she hadn’t asked. That was part of the new understanding between them: leave certain truths alone. Let them breathe in their own time.
His family still didn’t know. She said that with a shrug, like it was someone else’s problem to solve. Maybe it was.
That night, the plan had been to go out for drinks. A real friday outing, just the two of you, reclaiming your twenties like responsible women who still owned good heels. But somewhere between deciding where to go and actually leaving the house, you ended up under a blanket in bed, her phone screen glowing against the sheets. A tiktok was playing softly on her phone—something about baked chicken with cream and garlic—and neither of you moved to pause it. You fell asleep like that. Her phone still in her hand.
The next morning, you woke to a text from Benny.
[Ben]: Birthday celebration. Tonight at Ogham. Last minute, so sorry if you already have plans, Santi told me you'd probably be busy. No worries!!!
You read it aloud while Emma stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter like it had personally wronged her. She was wearing a pale blue robe, the fluffy kind that made her look like a very elegant cloud. Her hair was messy but artfully so, a short blond cut that would’ve looked awkward on almost anyone else but framed her face like it had been designed specifically for her cheekbones.
“I think we should go,” she said, without looking up, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.
“You think?” you asked, skeptical. “I thought you wanted us to go out dancing. A proper club night.”
“I did. But I think I’d rather go to Ogham now,” she said, lifting her mug toward her mouth, one eyebrow raised. “Frankie’s going to be there, isn’t he?”
“I guess so.”
“Then... let’s go.”
You gave her a look, unimpressed. “I’m not sure.”
“But it’s Benny’s birthday! We like Benny!”
“Oh, you definitely like Benny.”
Emma rolled her eyes.
“Don’t be like that. Can’t a girl look at someone?”
You laughed, opened your mouth to respond, but she cut you off before you could.
“And don’t even try to turn this around on me,” she added smoothly. “You know Frankie’s going.”
“I know. I just don’t know if he actually wants me there.”
“I think he was pretty clear when he told you not to stay away.”
You exhaled loudly, let your head drop back as you leaned further against the counter. The marble edge pressed into your lower back. Something about the discomfort felt appropriate.
“How clear, though?” you muttered. “Honestly, every time I replay the conversation in my head, it gets blurrier. Like, the more I think about it, the less I actually understand.”
“Yeah? Why?”
“Because he spent most of the conversation listing all the reasons he shouldn’t be near me. And then, like, right after that, he kissed me. Just... he kissed me. And I’m left wondering what the hell I was supposed to take from that.”
Emma closed her eyes and gave a small nod, thoughtful. You’d already walked her through the entire thing the day before, over half-eaten pasta and the last glass of wine. Right after she told you about seeing Luca again—with his lawyer, no less.
“I mean, it sounded like a last kiss,” she said eventually. “Like something you do when you know it’s the last time. Which is kind of romantic, if you think about it in a tragic, messy sort of way.”
“I guess. But I don’t know if I’d call it romantic. It felt more like emotional whiplash. Like... what does he expect from me now? He kisses me, walks away like he’s done with it, and then just vanishes.”
Emma rolled her eyes, but not at you. More like at the general emotional incompetence of the male species.
“I already told you. He’s probably spiraling. I mean, remember how he acted after the wedding? The whole thing where he said he didn’t talk about it because he assumed you forgot? That wasn’t chill. That was full-blown internal meltdown. He’s probably lying in bed somewhere, overanalyzing some ridiculous thing.”
You tried not to smile, but your mouth gave you away.
“Or,” you offered, “he’s just being logical about it. Maybe he’s finally sticking to the boundaries we talked about. Maybe now that we have no excuse to be in each other’s lives—no wedding, no birthday party—he doesn’t see a reason to stay close.”
“I thought he was going to help you with the list?”
You lifted your eyebrows. “Right. The list. You mean the one that includes kissing a stranger and the New Year’s kiss?”
She smirked into her coffee. “That’s the one.”
“Yeah, I don’t see either of those things happening anytime soon.”
“What about the rest of it?” she asked. “The non-kissing parts.”
“There are a few things left,” you admitted. “But we haven’t talked about any of it. Not since.”
“Well, maybe the ‘kiss a stranger’ part is closer than you think,” Emma said, tilting her head toward you, raising her brows with theatrical enthusiasm. “We’re going to a bar tonight, remember? And it’s saturday. Statistically speaking, that place is going to be full of very attractive, emotionally unavailable men.”
You made a face. “Oh, yeah. Everyone's going to be there. My brother’s going to be there.”
Emma rolled her eyes like this was the most irrelevant detail you could have offered.
“Santi’s practically middle-aged, all of them are, and you’re almost thirty. Your knees pop when you stand up too fast. What are you, thirteen? He’s not going to care.”
You laughed despite yourself. “Okay, fair. But still, not happening—”
She cut you off. “That whole thing about Santi? It’s kind of a childish excuse, if you think about it.”
You frowned. “What?”
“The Frankie excuse,” she said, with a small shrug. “The one where he says, oh, you’re his best friend’s sister so it’s all off-limits or whatever. Like, okay, sure. But also, what does that even mean?”
You sighed. “I don’t know. It’s not that it’s bad exactly, but it feels... off. If things went south, it would be uncomfortable. A mess.”
Emma looked at you like she was trying to be patient, but barely succeeding.
“Babe, you guys already hated each other for, like, multiple years. You once threw a dart at his actual head. And now you’re worried it might get awkward? We’ve already been to weird. We set up camp in weird.”
“That was different.”
She smirked. “You two are addicted to excuses. It’s almost romantic in how tragic it is. Like, see, there’s an attempt at honesty. But it’s half-hearted. ”
“Okay, Atticus Finch,” you snorted.
Emma set her coffee down on the counter and turned to face you more directly, her expression suddenly more serious.
“Alright, what if I went out with Santi?”
You blinked. “What?”
“I mean, hypothetically,” she said, tilting her head with mock innocence. “Say something... unexpected happened. Would that bother you?”
You pressed your lips together, unsure whether to laugh or actually consider the question.
“Well... first of all, he’s engaged.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Yes, obviously. I said hypothetically. If none of that were true. What would you think?”
“I—I don’t know. I think it’d feel kind of strange, I guess. You’re my best friend. My person. It’d be like two parts of my life suddenly... touching in a way they weren’t supposed to.”
“Would it bother you?”
“Maybe a little. I think I’d feel... weird about it, at first.”
Emma nodded like she was filing that information away.
“Exactly. That’s what I’m saying. There’s a difference between ‘this would be strange’ and ‘this can’t happen.’ You know?”
“I think so.”
“But you’d accept it,” Emma pressed.
“I guess I would.”
“Why?”
You exhaled, your arms crossed loosely over your chest.
“I dunno. Because I love you both, maybe?” You lifted your shoulders, more in question than statement. “I mean, I’d hate it if you turned into one of those people who completely change when they start dating someone and suddenly start leaking your friends’ secrets over wine.”
Emma gasped, hand to heart. “I would never.”
“I know,” you said, smiling despite yourself.
She tilted her head. “So? It wouldn’t really bother you. You’d get used to it. Eventually. Sooner or later.”
“Yeah. Okay. Probably. But why are we even talking about this anyway?”
“Because,” she said, with the slightly smug tone of someone who had been quietly assembling an argument and had just reached her favorite part, “I think Santi would say exactly the same thing. You two—God help us—you’re very alike. Which is precisely why I think what Frankie said is just a really well constructed excuse.”
“He never actually said Santi would disapprove. He said he felt weird about it. That he didn’t know how to navigate it. And anyway, that wasn’t even the main reason he brought up.” Your voice softened. “There were... other things.”
“I know,” Emma said, hands up in mock surrender. “And those things are valid, okay? I’m not saying they’re not. I’m just saying... he’s hiding behind the most convenient reason because it’s easier than admitting something else.”
You looked down at the tiled floor, the words catching somewhere between your chest and throat.
“Well,” you muttered, “you’ve made your point.”
“Thank you. I do try.”
You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth tugged upward. “I missed you.”
Emma's face softened into something honest and unguarded.
“I missed you, too.” she said. “Good thing we’re friends, and that I’ll be by your side tonight. In fact, I packed a super cute dress that I’m really hoping to wear. It’s got, like, criminal levels of leg.”
“Oh, I’m sure Benny will appreciate that.”
She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Ha, ha. The pot calling the kettle black.”
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“Mmm, the old Ogham’s fries,” Emma said as the two of you stepped inside, her hand pressing against the bar door.
The bar was packed. Conversations overlapped in warm bursts, threading themselves into the clatter of plates and the low hum of music playing from unseen speakers. Yellow-gold pendant lights floated above each table like small suns, casting soft pools of light that made everything look a little kinder, warmer. The exposed brick walls were cluttered with vintage beer ads and fading whiskey posters, all half-charming, half-forgotten. 
You hadn’t given much thought to what you were going to wear. Emma had insisted on a few outfits—held them up with dramatic gestures and persuasive arguments—but in the end, you went with a black skirt and a fitted black tee. Simple. Uncomplicated. You did let her do your makeup, though. Something subtle, she’d said, brushing color onto your cheeks. Just enough to bring out your beautiful features.
“They’re in the back,” you said, already looking past the tables, even though the view was fractured—shoulders, raised glasses, blur of motion. You reached out and took Emma’s arm.
“I’m ordering fries the second we sit down,” she whispered.
You walked forward slowly, weaving through the narrow aisles. Benny spotted you first. He lifted a hand in greeting, grin already forming on his face.
“Hey!” he called. “Must be my lucky day.”
You smiled back instinctively, even as your eyes swept the rest of the table. Will was in the corner seat, leaning into his beer. Next to him, Benny, then your brother—who was already rising to greet Emma—and Yov, who met your glance with an easy smile. Tom wasn’t there. You remembered he was out of town for work. And Frankie—no sign of him. You weren’t sure if that absence meant anything. Maybe he was late. Maybe he’d decided not to come.
You gave everyone a quick hello and slid into the empty seat beside Yov. Benny was in rare form, practically glowing. He insisted it had nothing to do with his birthday. According to him, it was the win that mattered.
“Billy Spears,” he said, raising his glass, “talked more shit than anyone I’ve met in a ring. Said I’d be down in the first round. That I didn’t have the heart for it.” His voice curled into something close to laughter.
Will chuckled. “You taught him a lesson. That much I believe.”
Benny nodded, still smiling, his knuckles red and fading to purple at the edges.
“Four rounds,” he said, almost to himself. “Twenty minutes of him trying to take my head off. He didn’t land anything clean. Not once. He’ll think twice before running his mouth next time.”
He kept talking, something about the final clinch or how the ref had almost called it early, but your attention slipped. You rested your chin in your hand, elbow braced on the table, and let the noise of your friends wash over you like static. You weren’t really listening. You were thinking about who wasn’t there—and wondering why it mattered.
“Everything okay?” Yov asked, her voice low. “What have you two been up to?”
Emma shifted closer, the side of her arm brushing yours as she leaned in.
“Talking,” she said, and her eyes flicked between you and Yov. “Talking is never enough. Honestly, I could talk forever and still feel like I haven’t said half of what I meant to.”
Yov laughed, the sound genuine.
“You’re one of mine,” she said, like that explained everything. “How long are you here for?”
“Just until tomorrow. It’s a short visit. I have to get back to work.”
“But you missed Austin?”
“I missed everyone. Family. Friends. I’m not even that far away, but distance does its thing anyway.”
You took a small step back. Yov’s attention stayed on Emma.
“It’s the daily things, right?” Emma said. “Even when the drive isn’t long, it still feels like a whole production. There’s no room for the unplanned anymore.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Yov nodded. “I used to make last-minute plans with people all the time. Now I have to book something two weeks in advance, and even then it might fall through.”
“Yeah, well,” Emma added, mostly to herself, “life tends to get in the way.”
Yov gave a small sigh, like she was admitting something without saying it directly.
“It does. I’ve got a routine now, and I like it, mostly. But sometimes I miss being able to just say, ‘Hey, meet me in an hour,’ and know it could actually happen.”
Santi turned around in his seat at that. “What do you miss?”
You laughed lightly, pushing your chair back in that awkward, careful way people do when they’re trying not to interrupt anything.
“I’m gonna go get a drink,” you said, already half-standing. You looked at Emma. “Want me to order your fries?”
She nodded, still smiling up at you from her seat. “Yeah—do you want me to come?”
“No,” you said, your hand already brushing the back of your chair. “Stay. I’ll be back in a second.”
But a second had stretched into something longer. Not dramatically so, just enough that you noticed it. You were still at the bar, your back lightly pressed against the stool, one elbow resting on the counter as you waited—first patiently, then just passively—for your drink and the cheddar fries Emma had been craving.
The place had a menu designed to satisfy people who ordered with beer already in hand. Everything felt intentionally greasy and generous. Good for soaking up alcohol. On saturdays, though, even the kitchen struggled to keep pace. And ever since The Crow had closed for renovations, Ogham had absorbed the spillover crowd. It was louder now, more chaotic. A sort of charming disorder, if you were in the mood for it.
Grian caught your eye from behind the bar. He was mixing a drink with the weary rhythm of someone who's already halfway through a long night. He gave you a look that said “I know, I know” without saying a word. You liked him. He was tall and had pale ocean eyes. He always wore cool graphic tees. Tonight, his shirt read: I hate Woody Allen. 
“Your food’ll be up in a sec,” he said, tone apologetic as he slid your gin and tonic toward you. His smile was almost embarrassed.
You nodded and gave him a small smile in return, dipping your head slightly in that way you did when you were trying not to make someone feel worse for something out of their control.
“No worries.”
You reached for your purse, your fingers brushing the zipper just as the bar door opened behind you. Just a flicker of motion. You didn’t even hear it, not over the music and the voices, but you felt it—a small shift in the room’s atmosphere. Some part of your mind, the part that noticed things before you let yourself notice them, turned toward it.
Your eyes followed a beat later. The door had swung closed again. And he was there.
Frankie.
White t-shirt, dark pants. No cap tonight. No jacket, either. You saw him and then, just as quickly, looked away. Back to the counter. Back to Grian, who was holding your glass a little closer to you now, like he wasn’t sure you were really present.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
You nodded, maybe a little too quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks.” You took the drink, brought it to your lips. “Tastes great. As always.”
He grinned at the compliment, wiping his hands on a towel.
“Thanks. Sorry for the wait. I’m on my own tonight. Kat's in the kitchen.” He gestured vaguely behind him, where the chaos of orders buzzed from the kitchen. “Can you believe it? On a saturday.”
“Where’s Bianca?”
“She quit,” he said, grabbing another glass from the shelf. “Had a fight with—”
But you’d stopped listening.
Because Frankie was somewhere behind you now, in the room. And even though you weren’t looking, you knew exactly where he was standing.
“Hey, Morales,” came a voice from behind you. Male. Confident in that casual, too-familiar way. You didn’t recognize it.
You turned slightly, just enough to see. A man, maybe in his forties, with a receding hairline and cool red prescription glasses. He clapped Frankie on the back, and he greeted him easily, a handshake and a half-laugh, like this sort of thing happened to him all the time. 
You turned back to Grian, catching his eye again.
“That’s too bad,” you said. “I like Bianca.”
He made a face—part shrug, part agreement. “Everyone likes Bianca. But Tim's a jerk.”
You raised your eyebrows. Grian, sensing your curiosity, leaned in slightly like he couldn’t help himself.
“She wanted to go take care of her mom. Something in L.A.—family stuff. Last weekend.”
You nodded.
“Tim told her no,” he continued. “Said she had to be here. She told him to fuck off, more or less. He threatened to fire her, so she saved him the trouble.”
You exhaled through your nose.
“Anyway, we don’t get paid enough to put up with this shit,” Grian added. “I’m thinking of just stealing liquor at this point. Like, genuinely. One bottle at a time.”
You laughed. “Start with the Jameson. That one’s mine.”
He gave you a mock salute, but before he could respond, a voice came from just beside you.
“First wine and champagne, now whiskey,” he said, with something like amusement tucked under the words. “You’re turning it into an art.”
You didn’t turn around right away. The voice was low, smooth, unmistakably his. Your pulse jumped once.
Then, slowly, you let your gaze shift, your shoulders following.
Frankie stood beside you. His hand was resting casually on the edge of the bar, the other on the back of your stool like it had landed there by accident. He wasn’t touching you. Not really. But he was close enough that you felt the heat of him in the space between.
His t-shirt clung a little to his chest, and his skin looked flushed from the walk or the weight of the room or maybe something else. His eyes met yours, dark and steady, and under the flickering bar lights they caught the glow—like sparks rising too fast from a match.
You arched an eyebrow. “You’re late, Dante.”
Grian paused to glance between you and Frankie. “Should I get the first aid kit ready?”
Frankie didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed on you, the corners creased just slightly. “No, but I’ll take a beer.”
Grian gave a little shrug. “On it,” he muttered, already turning away.
A small exhale left your chest, almost inaudible.
You opened your mouth, ready to ask how he’d been. About his week. About what had kept him busy or distracted or too preoccupied to send a message. But before a single syllable left your lips, he spoke.
“I could smell your perfume when I walked in,” he said, voice quiet enough that only you could hear it.
You tilted your head, intrigued. “I hope that’s a good thing. Some people have very strong opinions about perfume.”
“It’s good.” He wasn’t smiling but his expression had softened. “I like yours.” Then, after a beat, he added, “I smelled you before I saw you.”
You let out a short laugh, raising your glass toward your mouth again. “That sounds like something a well-trained dog would say.”
He actually laughed at that—low, unguarded.
“How long’ve you been here?” he asked.
“Do you mean at the bar or waiting?”
“Both.”
You sipped your gin and tonic again, letting it linger before answering. “I got here nearly an hour ago. Been waiting… thirty minutes, maybe more.”
He took a moment to scan the room. “It’s packed.”
“It is. The guys are in the back.”
“I figured. You came with Emma, right?”
You nodded, smiling now, almost involuntarily. You weren’t sure when his voice had started to do that to you.
Grian returned, setting a beer in front of Frankie. Almost immediately after, a plate of cheddar fries appeared beside you, steaming and glowing faintly in the low amber light.
You stood up, the legs of the stool scraping softly against the floor. Frankie reached for the plate before you could, holding it carefully.
“I’ve got it,” he said, and you looked at him for a second longer than you meant to, then followed him through the crowded bar.
You made your way back to the table, weaving through the mess of chairs and limbs and low laughter. Frankie moved ahead of you, greeting Benny with a hug that involved too much back-slapping to be casual. Emma caught your eye as you approached, her expression bright with unspoken commentary. Her mouth curved up, conspiratorial. You could practically hear the teasing words she hadn’t said yet.
You sank into the seat beside her. Almost immediately, her fingers found your forearm, tapping once, then staying there, her touch unhidden.
Frankie took the seat across the table, one spot over—not directly in front of you, but close enough that you became aware of his presence each time he shifted in his seat or lifted his glass. His gaze drifted past you occasionally, never lingering, never quite settling. Still, you felt the flicker of it every time.
Two hours passed this way. A blur of drinks appearing and being drained, plates stacking up in the middle of the table like lazy little mountains of comfort food. At some point, four more plates of fries had arrived—no one had actually agreed on ordering them, but no one had stopped it either. You were already on your second gin and tonic.
The conversation at one end of the table had splintered into something you only half-registered. Will was explaining something about a car he was working on—something about a part he couldn’t track down, maybe something to do with a carburetor, though you weren’t sure what a carburetor even looked like.
On your side, Emma had shifted her full attention to Yov and Santi. She was asking about the wedding—venue, dress, guest list—and Yov, for her part, answered with the kind of practiced cheer people use when they’ve been asked the same questions too many times. Her fingers played with the edge of her napkin as she spoke, a little nervous.
You leaned in to hear them better, but your mind kept wandering. To the weight of Frankie’s presence at the edge of your vision. To the warmth of Emma’s hand still near yours. To the fizzing sensation in your stomach. 
You leaned back slightly in your chair, letting your gaze wander around the bar, detached from the thread of conversation at the table. There was something soothing about observing other people living their lives—temporary characters in a play you weren’t invited to join. At one table, a woman tilted her head, laughing, her mouth open too wide, one hand resting possessively on the arm of the man beside her. At another, two friends spoke directly into each other’s ears, their voices drowned by the music. Just to your right, a couple was mid-argument—low-voiced and tightly contained, the woman’s expression tight, her hand slicing the air with every sentence.
Your eyes landed on Grian at the bar. He looked mildly distressed, his brows drawn together as he listened to a man gesturing wildly in front of him, as though urgency alone would guarantee better service. Grian’s hands were on the bar, long fingers tapping against the wood, waiting for a break in the monologue.
“... but I know that's because she likes Fish,” Will said suddenly, pulling you back to the present.
You didn’t turn your head right away. Your ears tuned in instinctively to the rhythm of Will’s voice, but your eyes stayed fixed on Grian—on the way he finally reached for a glass, as if grateful to have something to do with his hands.
The guys laughed, that light, familiar cadence of friends teasing each other.
“I told you it was just a matter of time,” Benny added, grinning around the rim of his drink.
“That… that’s not true,” Frankie murmured. The tone of his voice was quiet, uncharacteristically so.
Will leaned forward a little, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe it.
“I offered to take her home, she said no. But with him? Tam didn’t even blink.”
Something tightened inside your chest. It was so slight, it barely registered—like your body skipped a beat only to recover by beating twice as hard. You glanced toward Frankie. He was rubbing his temple, elbow on the table, eyes trained on Will with a tired sort of focus. Your cheeks grew warm.
“I just took her home, that’s all,” Frankie said. His gaze flicked toward you. A second, maybe less. But it was enough.
“Hers or yours?” Benny grinned.
“Man, fuck off.” Frankie’s voice cracked a little under the weight of it. His face flushed, and he dropped his hand from his temple to fold both arms tightly across his chest. “You always do this.”
Santi was laughing.
“Right, leave him alone,” he said, looking from one to the other, clearly gearing up. “He’s not exactly a free agent anymore, is he?”
Will raised his eyebrows, smiling. “What, is he married to a cockpit now?”
There was a pause—small, fractured—and then Santi just came out with it.
“He’s like, like my brother-in-law now,” he said, tipping his head toward you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “This son of a bitch is dating my little sister.”
Yov’s face lit up with amusement. She turned to look at you, her cheeks tinged pink, lips parting like she was about to ask something—though she didn’t.
Will and Benny burst into laughter, their reactions immediate and slightly performative, like they thought it was a joke. A ridiculous, funny story. But after a few seconds, the sound tapered off. Their faces stilled. The mood shifted by degrees. It was in the way their smiles froze, how their eyes flitted between you and Frankie like they weren’t quite sure what they were looking at now. Was it a joke?
Frankie didn’t say anything. He just shook his head slightly, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. His eyes were on you. You didn’t meet them. But you felt them. The way one feels heat even when there’s no visible flame.
You smiled, just a little—tight-lipped, like you were amused in theory but not particularly entertained. You looked at Santi instead, not needing to say anything at all. There was something deeply satisfying about letting the silence stretch.
No denial. No clarification.
Will’s eyes widened gradually, disbelief taking up space in his expression. “Dude. Are you serious?”
"No, he isn't," Benny said, half-laughing. 
Santi raised his glass. “Ask Helena. She’s thrilled.” He drank, and beside him, Yov reached over and smacked his arm, not too hard, but enough to say, what the hell are you doing?
“There’s no way you’re not joking,” Benny said.
“I always knew there was something there,” Will added, pointing at Frankie with narrowed eyes, grinning like he’d just uncovered a well-kept secret. “Right from the get-go.”
Benny looked at you then, frowning slightly. “You threw a dart at him once.”
You let out a quiet laugh. “You gave me the dart.”
“I remember the dart,” Will said, shifting in his seat to face Frankie more directly. “You remember the dart, Fish?”
Frankie exhaled hard through his nose and covered his face with one hand. When he pulled his hand away, his cheeks were flushed and there was a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Yeah, I remember the dart. Still got the damn scar.” He pointed just above his brow, where the skin had once split open under the wrong end of a bad decision. He glanced at you for a second—not bitter.
“That was the crush,” Santi said casually.
Benny turned to you again, then looked at Frankie, bewildered.
“Are you kidding? That logic—‘if you hate each other, you secretly love each other’—works on tv, right, sure. But not with you two.”
Frankie laughed quietly, without looking up.
“Call my mom,” he said. “Ask her what she thinks.”
Benny shook his head, eyes wide. “No. No way.”
“You want to date my little sister too, Ben?” Santi asked, tilting his head in Benny’s direction with mock suspicion. “You’re starting to sound a little too invested.”
Emma groaned dramatically next to you and covered her face.
“Please don’t take this away from me,” Benny said, leaning forward again, his eyes exaggeratedly mournful. “Watching you tease Frankie is one of the only joys I have left. I’ve got more darts. I can restock.”
“I’m sorry, Benny,” you said, lifting your shoulders in a resigned shrug. “It is what it is.”
“Shit, Fish, tell that to Tam, then,” Will said, his tone flattening slightly as he looked across the table at Frankie.
Tam. You blinked. Who the hell was Tam? Why were they suddenly talking about her? Had Frankie taken her home? Was that what this was about?
The mood shifted just enough for everyone to feel it. Emma pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh, and Yov looked vaguely guilty, like she'd laughed a little too long. Santi just leaned back, watching everything unfold with that unreadable look he wore when he didn’t want to interfere but also couldn’t look away.
“What should I tell her?” Frankie asked, his voice light, lips curved in something that looked like a smirk.
Will turned to you then, as if your reaction had suddenly become important.
“I think he’s free to hang out with whoever he wants,” you said, your voice too even. You turned your head, eyes locking with Frankie’s. “As far as I’m concerned, Francisco, you can do whatever you want. That much is clear.”
Benny shifted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable now. His earlier jokes had evaporated into a fog of uncertainty.
Frankie was still watching you. “I’m not sure about that.”
You let out a short breath. “Ask Tam.”
Benny turned his confusion into a muttered, “I don’t understand this,” directed at Santi.
Your brother raised his eyebrows and shook his head, offering nothing.
“There’s nothing going on with Tam,” Frankie said. His voice was quieter now, but steady. He leaned forward, forearms on the table, eyes not moving from yours. “I just gave her a ride home. It was late.”
You tilted your head. “That’s how it starts.”
You didn’t know if it was the gin and tonic, or the music, or the strange heat blooming under your skin, but everything in you was beginning to feel looser, like your words might start slipping past the filter.
Frankie kept his eyes on you. A full second passed, maybe more. Then: “Do you really—”
“Alright,” Santi cut in suddenly. He held up both palms like a referee in a game no one had agreed to play. “We’re done. I take it back. It was a joke, a dumb one. Not true. None of it.”
You let out a laugh and rolled your eyes. You turned toward Benny and Will, who were both watching you now like you were a page in a language they didn’t speak.
But Frankie’s eyes hadn’t left your face.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Benny asked, confused, almost indignant.
Will laughed quietly beside him, like he had only just realized he was also confused.
“It’s not real,” you said, your voice lighter now. You smiled. “Frankie and I aren’t dating. We faked it. That’s all.”
Will blinked. “What? Why?”
Frankie leaned back in his seat, his shoulders sinking a little into the booth. There was a hint of a smile on his face, but it didn’t quite hold—it felt more like muscle memory.
“For convenience,” you said, your voice even. “It’s a long story.” You lifted your glass and took a sip that felt like punctuation.
“My family still thinks it’s real,” Frankie added, his eyes scanning the table. “So if you run into any of them, I’d appreciate it if you just… didn’t say anything.”
Benny let out a short laugh, disbelieving. “Right—why?”
“Jesus, man,” Frankie said, exhaling sharply. “I’ll explain later. It’s not some big dramatic thing. It just is.”
Will slumped against the back of his chair with an exaggerated sigh, folding his arms across his chest like a sulky teenager.
“Well. That’s disappointing. I had hopes, you know.”
Santi made a strangled sound in his throat. “You really thought this would actually work out?”
Will gave him a look. “Stranger things have happened.”
“I don’t see the problem,” Yov cut in, shrugging as she swirled the last of the ice in her glass. “Unless your only objection is that he’s your friend. Which, okay, fine. But opposites attract, baby.”
Santi narrowed his eyes like he was personally offended by the phrase.
“Not in their world.” He turned toward you then, leveling you with the kind of look only older brothers can get away with—half teasing, half invasive. “Besides, I’m pretty sure your type is more like, like brooding academic or something like that. The ones who look like they teach ethics at liberal arts colleges and that shit.”
You let out a breathy laugh, somewhere between surprised and exasperated. “What are you even talking about?”
Santi was already laughing, his face flushed with alcohol and mischief.
“Come on, you know what I mean. Like your new guy. What’s his name again? That one you’ve been hanging around with lately.”
Emma perked up beside you, clearly enjoying the new direction. “Oh, right. Bill?”
“Bill. That’s the guy,” Santi said, nodding like he’d cracked some sort of code.
You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.
“He’s not my guy, and he’s definitely not a brooding academic, if that’s what you were picturing.”
You could feel Emma grinning next to you without even looking.
“Well, he’s very attentive,” she said, turning her words to Santi but clearly directing them at you. “And, I mean, he sells coffee. That’s like... ideal, if you’re someone who sells books.”
“I don’t know about ideal,” your brother said. “But his donuts are damn good.”
“Bill who?” Benny asked, glancing between the two of you with genuine confusion.
“He owns the coffee shop next to the bookstore,” you explained, feeling suddenly very aware of how small your voice sounded in the room.
“He’s really cute,” Emma added, despite never having met him. “He’s doing renovations right now, and she’s helping him out.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t correct her. “He just wants to add a little library area. Somewhere people can sit, read and, yeah, just that. He asked if I could help him pick out some books. Maybe design the shelves, that sort of thing. That's it.”
There was a small pause, just long enough for your face to betray you again, your cheeks warming.
From across the table, Frankie shifted. He was half in shadow, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His gaze found you and didn’t let go. There was something unreadable in his expression. Maybe a smirk trying not to be a smirk. You weren’t sure.
“That’s sweet,” Yov said. “Yup. I get it. I see the appeal.”
“And he has a little daughter,” Emma added like she was dropping the final piece of the puzzle. “She loves to read too, apparently. I mean, come on.”
You exhaled, more sharply than you meant to. “I’m just helping out. That’s all it is.”
Emma raised an eyebrow. “Well, he’s lovely. And he clearly likes you.”
You shot her a warning look. “Emma.”
“What? I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking.”
“I’m thinking I’d like more free donuts,” Santi muttered under his breath.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Yov laughed.
“I think Bill is exactly what you need,” Emma said, her voice pitched slightly higher, like she wanted to make sure everyone could hear her.
You turned to look at her, eyebrows drawn together in a way that felt automatic, like your body was trying to shield itself from where this was going.
She went on, undeterred. “A man who knows what he wants. Someone with actual follow-through. Who doesn’t play games. Who’s not afraid to show you how he feels.”
There was a beat of silence—something in the air growing taut, or maybe just your own pulse pressing hard behind your ears.
Frankie stood abruptly. “I’m gonna grab a drink. Anyone want anything?” His voice was calm.
Nobody answered. Or maybe a few people shook their heads, you weren’t really paying attention. He pushed back his chair and stood. Then he turned, and walked off in the direction of the bar.
There was something in the way he moved. A tired walk. You tried not to follow him with your eyes, but you did.
Thankfully, Will spoke up, saying something about Bianca not being there tonight. You latched onto the change of subject the way someone might grab the edge of a table during an earthquake—knowing it won’t help much, but needing something to hold on to. It was obvious he was fishing for sympathy, or maybe absolution. According to what Santi had told you, there had been something between them. Casual, inconsistent, but still something.
Still, your thoughts were somewhere else entirely.
Your gaze wandered to the bar. Frankie was standing there, leaning into it with one elbow, his body slightly hunched. He wasn’t talking to anyone. Just staring at something in front of him you couldn’t see. Grian, behind the bar, was finally moving like someone at ease, as if the worst part of the night had passed.
You hadn’t seen Frankie in nearly two weeks. Fourteen days where the thought of him would drift in and out —at the sink, at work, just before sleep. You wondered if he’d been working too much. If he was taking care of himself. If Helena had asked about you. If he’d told her anything at all.
And the only thing you’d learned about him in all that time was that he'd apparently been driving Tam around. That—and the fact that Will seemed to think she liked him.
You looked down at your hands, resting in your lap, and suddenly wished you had something to do with them. 
You had no right to feel anything. You knew that. You repeated it to yourself like a fact, like something printed in a textbook or carved into stone. He’d been clear, hadn’t he? He couldn’t have that kind of relationship. Not with you. And maybe that was the part you’d skipped over—the with you. As if the problem wasn���t in the thing itself, but in the person he might share it with. Maybe it wasn’t relationships he was avoiding. Just the one that included you.
That thought lodged somewhere deep, somewhere soft. It made your stomach feel unsettled, like the air had shifted slightly and now everything was just a little off balance.
You hated that. Hated the way your body betrayed you over something that, by all definitions, was nothing. Because what even was this? It wasn’t real. It wasn’t defined. He hadn’t promised you anything, hadn’t even implied it. And yet here you were, trying not to think about what it would mean if he looked at someone else the way he sometimes looked at you.
Emma’s voice pulled you out of your own head. “Hey, wanna go to the bathroom?”
You nodded wordlessly, grateful for something to do, and followed her through the press of people standing near the pool tables, their voices loud and overlapping like waves hitting the same shore.
The bathroom was cooler, quieter. Emma closed the door behind you with her hip and turned toward the mirror, digging into her purse.
“Why didn’t you go with it?” she asked, glancing at you through the reflection.
“What?”
“Bill. Why didn’t you play along? It was working. You could’ve just said you liked him too.”
You leaned against the wall, arms folded loosely across your chest. “What did you want me to say? That I’m in love with him?”
Emma laughed quietly, smoothing a fresh coat of gloss over her bottom lip. “You didn’t have to lie. Just... lean into it a little. It was making him mad.”
You frowned. “Huh?”
She looked at you through the mirror again, meeting your eyes this time. “Frankie.”
Your chest pulled tight, like the air had been snatched out of the room too fast.
“He looked pissed,” she said, turning to face you now. “Not jealous-jealous, but... you know. Close.”
You didn’t respond right away. You were trying not to feel the thing you were already feeling.
“I don’t think that’s why. He was already upset before the Bill thing.”
Emma frowned, tugging at a piece of hair near her temple. “Yeah? Why?”
You shrugged. “Because of the guys. Because Santi opened his mouth and made the whole fake-dating thing sound like a joke. Tam, probably.”
“Who even is Tam? Do you know her?”
You gave a tiny shake of your head, almost embarrassed by the answer.
“No. Not really.”
Emma raised an eyebrow. “Well, it shouldn’t bother you anyway,” she said lightly, but then her tone sharpened just a touch. “Still. I know a jealous man when I see one.”
You scoffed, looking down at the floor tiles. “Frankie’s not jealous. He was the one who tried to convince me Bill was into me. When we went skydiving.”
“Okay, but that was before you told him how you felt.”
“That doesn’t change anything.”
She let out a small, frustrated sound and rubbed her temples like you’d given her a migraine.
“You are infuriating. Like, truly. I love you, but you make me want to scream into a throw pillow.”
You gave her a crooked smile, something caught between guilt and defensiveness.
Emma checked her reflection again, smoothing down her dress and fixing a small smudge near her eye.
“Come with me to the bar, will you?”
You squinted. “You want another drink?” It wasn’t accusatory, just surprised—Emma wasn’t a big drinker. Two beers, that was usually her limit.
“Yeah,” she said with a grin that felt just a little too rehearsed. “I’m feeling festive.”
You stepped out of the bathroom together. Bowie’s China Girl was playing on the speakers, a little distorted through the sound system. The air was thick with the layered scent of cigarette smoke, cheap perfume, and deep-fried potatoes.
Emma grabbed your hand and pulled you through the crowd. Frankie was still at the bar, leaning against it. When he saw you approach, he shifted—barely.
You slipped into the space beside him, Emma sliding in between you.
“Emma,” Frankie said, his voice low and even. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, cocking her head, playful. “Though the sound of your car’s hood slamming shut is still echoing through my skull.”
Frankie let out a soft laugh and made a half-dismissive gesture. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay,” she said with a smile that softened just slightly. “I hear you’re redeeming yourself.”
“I’m trying.”
Before you could say anything, a voice called out from somewhere behind you, and Emma’s hand was instantly on your shoulder.
“Oh my God, Devon!” she said, and turned toward the voice like it was magnetic. Then she glanced at you, amused and breathless. “Tragic, I know, but I have to go say hi. Order me a beer, okay?”
She winked before disappearing into the crowd, her pace just fast enough to suggest she was escaping something.
You stayed where you were, eyes flicking toward Frankie. He didn’t speak right away, but he didn’t move either. Just stood there, the space between your arms barely an inch. 
Grian came over and placed Frankie’s drink in front of him, the glass catching a glint of amber under the overhead light. You gave him Emma's order without looking up. Just a beer.
“Santi is drunk,” Frankie said. His voice was neutral.
You nodded, fingers curled around the edge of the bar. “I noticed.”
Neither of you said anything for a moment. The bar hummed around you—music, laughter, a burst of ice clattering into a metal bin. You watched the way your nails pressed against your palm, the thin crescent marks they left behind. Frankie exhaled beside you. Not loud, not theatrical. He shifted his weight.
You turned to look at him.
His jaw was tight. Not clenched, but contained. He wasn’t watching you—his eyes were fixed on the bottles behind the bar, neat rows of color and glass and labels. His brows weren’t furrowed, but there was tension in the corners of his mouth.
“Are you okay?” you asked.
He glanced down at you then. His eyes dark. “You want to get out of here?”
“What?”
He turned toward you more fully now, eyes scanning your face with something like uncertainty.
“If you want to leave. With me.”
He sounded earnest, a little hesitant—like maybe the words had gotten ahead of him. Your lips twitched with a hint of a smile, the kind you didn’t mean to show. 
“Where?”
“I don’t know,” he said. He looked over his shoulder toward the table where the others were sitting. “Wherever you want.”
You followed his gaze. Santi was leaning dramatically against Benny’s shoulder, mid-laugh. Yov was talking animatedly with someone you didn’t recognize. Will looked tired but was laughing anyway.
“What about them?” you asked.
Frankie turned back to you.
“They’re drunk,” he said simply. “And a little unbearable, to be honest.”
“And you don’t care if they see us leave together?”
“No,” he said, shrugging. “I think they already made up their minds about us. Impossible, they said.”
You bit the inside of your cheek. “And Emma? I’m not leaving her here alone.”
His lips curved slightly. “So that’s a yes.”
“What?”
“That you want to come with me.”
You didn’t say anything right away. Just turned to look at Emma again, now laughing at something Devon was saying. Her body language was loose, comfortable.
You looked back at Frankie, raising your index finger. “Give me a second.”
He nodded, watching you walk away.
When you reached Emma, she looked up with a knowing expression already blooming on her face.
“So?” she asked. “What did he say?”
“He asked me if I wanted to leave with him.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Go,” she said, waving her hand. “I’m fine. Devon’s driving me home soon. And I have the spare key in my bag.”
You touched her arm. “Text me when you get in?”
“Obviously.”
When you returned to the bar, Frankie was sipping from his glass while Grian spoke to him about a fight that had broken out the night before. He nodded at something Grian said, then turned when he saw you.
“Okay,” you said simply. “I’ll come with you.”
“You have everything?”
“Yeah, just my bag.”
He finished the last sip of his drink and set the glass down. “Alright. Let’s go.”
He pushed off the bar and gave a nod toward the exit. Grian gave you a small, knowing smile. You waved at him, your hand lifting instinctively, and then you followed Frankie toward the door.
Outside, the air had shifted—lighter now, cooler. It wasn’t particularly cold, but it felt cleaner somehow, like a layer of noise had peeled away with the door behind you. Frankie stepped up beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets, close enough that your arms might touch if either of you leaned just slightly to the side.
At the corner, you turned to look at him. The amber streetlights caught in his eyes, making them look brighter than usual. He looked back at you, a tender expression there. Neither of you said anything, and for a moment it felt like those hours in the bar had existed in some other version of reality. This felt like a different moment. Him, here. You, here. No noise. No laughter. No Emma nudging you beneath the table or Santi trying to make a joke.
Out here, he looked different. Or maybe he just looked more like himself. His hair was slightly messy, like he’d run his hand through it too many times. You imagined it would feel soft if you touched it, and then tried not to imagine that.
“What do you want to do?” he asked.
You hesitated, but only for show. “Whatever I want?”
“You sound like trouble. Don’t make me steal anything tonight.”
That made you laugh, too quickly. You looked down at your shoes, pretending to consider the question, even though you already knew your answer. The gin still warmed your veins, made you feel bolder than usual, like the version of yourself who didn’t overthink things to death.
You looked up again. “Can we go to your place?”
Frankie smiled—an uneven, vaguely suspicious sort of smile, like you’d just proposed something illegal and mildly intriguing.
“You want to go to my place?”
You nodded, unfazed. “You've been to my place several times. That I can remember. I, on the other hand, have no idea where you live. For all I know, you sleep in your car like a cryptid.”
He tilted his head. “Wow. A cryptid?”
“I said like one. You’re far too clean to be an actual cryptid.”
“Thanks,” he said, deadpan. “Really heartfelt compliment. I’ll treasure it forever.”
"You're welcome."
He laughed, the sound low and genuine, and ran a hand through his hair, which only made it more chaotic than it already was.
“Aha. So this is about fairness,” he said, crossing his arms. “You’re calling me out on a hospitality imbalance.”
“Exactly. Basic domestic justice.”
“Alright. Full disclosure, though—no cat.”
You narrowed your eyes, pretending to reconsider. “That can be arranged. I know a guy.”
He laughed. “You’re gonna get me a cat?”
“I think you should have one,” you said, shrugging. “Otherwise, who do you talk to at 2 am?”
“I talk to my plants.”
You tilted your head, charmed despite yourself. “What do you say to them?”
“Mostly, ‘please don’t die.’ Sometimes I play them old records. I’ve been told it helps. Mai told me, actually.” 
You grinned, already imagining it. Frankie watering plants while Johnny Cash plays in the background.
“Well, I still think the cat’s a good idea anyway.”
Frankie grinned, mouth twitching at the corners like he was trying not to look as pleased as he felt.
“Alright then. Come to my tragic, cat-less apartment and make your judgments.”
“Gladly. But just so you know, if there’s even one lava lamp or a poster of Scarface, I’m walking out.”
“Bold of you to assume I’d let you in if I had a lava lamp.”
“Fair,” you said, and the two of you started walking again, your shoulders nearly brushing.
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“Don’t fall. Watch out.” Frankie’s hand wrapped around yours as you stepped out of the Uber like he'd done it a hundred times before.
“I’m not going to fall,” you said, frowning at him playfully, though you didn’t pull your hand away.
Then you looked up.
Frankie’s house was—unexpected. Clean lines. Neutral tones. The place stood neat and self-contained at the end of a quiet street. The facade was light wood, almost golden under the porch light, and the gabled roof above it was the color of charcoal. Everything about it looked clean and measured. The symmetry of it was almost uncanny—the central porch framed by white columns, the wide double door with its glass panes catching bits of amber light from inside.
On either side, windows glowed softly, as if someone inside was still awake. But you knew that wasn't true, and that Frankie probably left the lights on to create the false impression that someone was inside. The garage stretched to the left, its doors darker wood, with small square windows at the top like little eyes. The front yard was impossibly tidy. The grass was cut to an even length, the edges trimmed. There were rows of low shrubs and just enough flowers to make it feel like someone cared, but not too much. The path was poured concrete, no cracks, no weeds creeping through.
You stared for a beat too long, and he noticed. “I have a gardener,” Frankie said, his voice close to your ear. You didn’t answer.
He unlocked the door with ease, and then stepped aside to let you in first. You brushed past him, closer than necessary, and he didn’t move.
The room felt too exposed, like something you weren’t supposed to be witnessing. Not because it was messy or chaotic—quite the opposite—but because it was composed in a way that revealed too much. Or maybe it just felt that way because it was Frankie, and you had never really pictured him inside a space like this.
The living room was lit by two lamps, one on each side of a deep gray sofa, casting the kind of glow that made everything look softer than it probably was. The fireplace across from it wasn’t lit, its matte black surface blending into the wall, with a television mounted above it, silent and blank. On the mantel sat two houseplants in identical white ceramic pots, flanking a pair of simple photo frames.
A coffee table, scratched at the edges, stood in front of the sofa. He had left a mug there, half drunk. There was also a book turned face-down and a lighter next to an open pack of cigs. Two armchairs filled the remaining corners of the room. One had a navy cushion, the other black.
The air smelled like laundry detergent, the faint bitterness of old coffee, something earthy and clean. And beneath it, him—his cologne, maybe, or the scent of his skin. It was subtle but persistent. Like if you stayed here long enough, it would cling to you.
“Want something to drink? Tea? Coffee?” His voice came from behind you as he moved toward the kitchen, his steps quiet on the hardwood floor. You didn’t follow him.
“Tea’s fine,” you said, almost to yourself, wandering over to the fireplace. You leaned in to look at the photos. One showed his dad standing alone on a pier, sun hitting his face. He was grinning, the lines around his eyes deep and familiar. He looked so much like Frankie it startled you—same smile, same jawline, same thick, full hair. You imagined his voice would be similar too.
The second frame was filled with women. His mom, his sisters, all of them laughing at something just outside the frame. Frankie wasn’t in the photo.
You kept walking, a little slower now, taking in more than you should have. A sweatshirt tossed over the back of the sofa. Headphones folded carefully on the coffee table. Three plants lined up on a chest of drawers by the window, each one thriving in a different shape of pot. To the left, a piece of mid-century furniture caught your eye. A record cabinet, filled almost to overflowing. A closed record player sat on top, the glass lid dust-free.
You leaned in, reading titles out loud in your head like they were clues: The Stooges. Fleetwood Mac. Busy Bee Starski. Alice in Chains. The Clash. Eagles. Marvin Gaye. T. Rex. The sleeves looked worn, loved, pulled from the shelf again and again.
“Wanna hear one?” Frankie’s voice startled you. You hadn’t heard him come back.
You turned toward him. “T. Rex?”
He grinned. Not smug—more like pleased. He placed two mugs down on the table and crossed the room to join you. You held the record sleeve while he powered up the record player. Electric Warrior. His hands were steady, practiced, and within seconds, Mambo Sun filled the room.
“My dad loved this album,” you said, not really looking at him. “He’d play it on sundays while fixing stuff in the garage. The volume was always too loud.I really love it.”
You rested the sleeve behind the record player carefully and turned around. Frankie was already on the sofa, holding his tea.
“T. Rex in the garage on a sunday,” he said, lifting the mug to his mouth. “Sounds like your dad had his priorities in order. Shit—careful. It’s hot.”
You sat beside him, your hip brushing his just barely. “I like it hot. So hot that one sip burns my heart out.”
You smiled at him then, sideways.
“So romantic,” he murmured, head leaning back against the cushion. 
You didn’t speak, and neither did he. The silence wasn’t awkward—it felt chosen. Mutual. Like you both knew that if you said anything right then, it might undo the atmosphere you’d stumbled into. So instead, the music filled the space. The vinyl hissed softly beneath the track, that low, velvety warmth that you always loved.
By the time Cosmic Dancer had reached its halfway point, you lifted your mug, took a careful sip, then let it rest in your lap, your fingers curling around the ceramic. You were perched on your knees, your legs folded beneath you, spine tilted just slightly toward him like your body had gotten used to the idea of being near him again. You kept your eyes fixed on your hands.
“I missed talking to you,” you said. “Just a little.”
The words felt like they slipped out more than they were offered.
You felt him turn, could feel the weight of his gaze move from the record player to your face. Your cheeks warmed under it, uninvited.
“You did?” 
You nodded, still not looking at him.
“Just a little,” you repeated, and finally let your eyes meet his, your lips tilting into something that tried not to be a smile but failed.
“Ah, thank God,” he said, leaning his head back against the couch with a kind of theatrical relief. “I was starting to get worried.”
You laughed, soft and breathy, your eyes dropping again to the mug in your lap. There was a pause. Not uncomfortable. You shifted a little closer and rested your head on his shoulder like it was a pillow you’d always used.
“So,” you said, “what’ve you been up to?”
He didn’t answer right away. You could tell he was thinking.
“Work. Rest,” he said finally. “I bought a new coffee the other day.”
“Oh yeah? Is it any good?”
“It is. I’ll give you some.”
“That’s generous of you,” you said, your tone feather-light. “Thank you.”
He shrugged. “What else… I went on a few walks. Tried to cut down on smoking. Not sure if I actually managed to.”
Your gaze flicked to the coffee table, where a pack of cigarettes lay in plain sight.
“Uh-huh,” you said, nodding toward it. “There’s your progress.”
He gave a short, stifled laugh that vibrated faintly beneath your ear. “I’m trying.”
You reached over and patted his thigh twice. “Good boy.”
He exhaled a laugh, head turning slightly toward you. “That again?”
“I haven’t forgotten. My theory still stands.”
“It’s a weird theory,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “A praise kink? Really?”
“It’s not weird, actually.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding with mock solemnity, eyes dancing. “It’s not. So,” he went on, “that’s what I did. Oh—helped Will with his car. We spent the whole day on it.”
“A whole day?”
“Well. Two hours, technically. Then we gave up and made ribs in the backyard.”
“Ah. The whole day.” You laughed and leaned into him again. “Two hours.”
He laughed again, then lifted the mug to his mouth. You were about to say something else, maybe something meaningless, but then the thought came back like a door left ajar in your mind, something drifting through.
“So, Tam,” you said, casually enough that it surprised even you. “What about her?”
You felt the change in him instantly. A shift in posture. A tightening. 
“She’s a friend of Will’s,” he said, voice level. “They met a few months ago. She sold him a bike.”
“Oh.” You nodded once, your eyes on the handle of your mug as your thumb traced over it.
You didn’t add anything.
A few seconds passed. He swallowed. “There’s nothing going on with her. I just…” He paused. “I just—”
“Frankie,” you said quietly, lifting your eyes to meet his. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
“I just drove her home. It was late.”
You smiled. “That was nice of you.”
“Mm.” He shifted again, resettling into the cushions beside you. Your head was still resting on his shoulder, and neither of you moved to change that. “That was it.”
You extended your empty mug toward him, and he took it from your hands with an ease that made something inside you soften. He leaned to place it gently on the small table beside him.
You tilted your head slightly, just enough to glance at him from your position. “Do you think what Will said is true?”
“What?”
“That maybe she likes you. Or something like that.”
“Will just likes messing with me. He sees something and runs with it. That’s kind of his thing.”
You reached out, your hand brushing against his arm, fingertips trailing until they found the little freckle near his wrist. You pressed lightly there, then traced the edge of it.
“It was just that, you know?” he said, his voice more certain now, like he needed you to hear it. Like he needed himself to say it out loud. He looked at you, but your gaze didn’t rise this time.
You exhaled slowly. “Even if it was something else, it’s fine. You don’t owe me anything. You don’t have to explain.”
But still, he reached for your hand, the one that had touched his skin. He folded his fingers around yours, his thumb brushing softly along your fingertips.
“I just got the sense that it bothered you,” he said quietly. “That’s all. I—”
“As far as I know, you’re a single man. And if you meet someone you like, and they’re kind to you… I think that’s your business.”
He didn’t say anything, just kept holding your hand.
Then, “We’ve talked about this already.”
“I know,” you said, your voice even, “but these aren’t things you can always control, right? You can have the whole thing mapped out in your head—what you want, what you’re ready for, what you’ve decided not to touch. You can feel so sure about all of it. And then someone comes along who completely rearranges the blueprint, and maybe you weren’t prepared for that. Maybe it’s inconvenient, maybe it’s terrifying. But what are you supposed to do with that kind of thing?”
You paused. “Sometimes it just... arrives. Like timing that sneaks up on you and lands exactly where it should, whether you’re prepared or not. And honestly, Frankie,” you added, eyes steady, “you shouldn’t feel guilty about that. You don’t have to defend yourself to me. Or anyone.”
He didn’t answer right away. You could hear him breathing beside you, that quiet rhythm, the way his chest moved beneath your head, like he was sorting through something inside himself. For a moment, you worried you’d said too much, crossed into a space that wasn’t yours to step into.
Then, finally: “I get it. But I don’t like Tam.”
You let out a soft exhale. “I wasn’t really talking about Tam,” you said gently. “I meant anyone.”
Your eyes dropped to where your hands rested together. His thumb was brushing against your skin again, the motion absent-minded but oddly grounding.
“I think it’s just one of those things people can’t plan for. You try, but then it happens anyway. I think it’s okay to take your time, to be cautious, to move at your own pace. But I also think it’s not weakness to let yourself be caught off guard by something good.”
He tilted his head slightly, enough to look at you. “You think that’s possible? That it can be a good thing?”
“I think it’s the most human thing in the world. Letting yourself feel something fully. Letting it lead you. Even just a little.”
Frankie gave a half-smile, not the kind that reached all the way to his eyes.
“Bad things have happened when I’ve done that before. When I’ve let myself get too carried away by what I was feeling.”
You looked at him. “Right, but what were you getting carried away by? What kinds of feelings?”
He let out a short laugh, more tired than amused. “It’s been a long, long stretch of darker ones, baby.”
Your gaze dropped again, back to your joined hands. You studied the place where his fingers still cradled yours.
“Then maybe that’s the difference,” you murmured. “You don’t have to follow the dark ones. Not if there are brighter ones. I mean, it sounds corny but... you know.”
“Uh-huh. Like what?”
“Well, I dunno,” you said, and your voice carried that hesitant tone people use when they’re trying not to sound too sure of themselves. “I know you said you don’t like Tam. But say you did. Say you met someone who made you feel a little more okay just by being around, someone who was gentle, real, not out to ruin your life. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Frankie’s laugh came out a little too fast. “They could absolutely crush me. Like, destroy me. Again.” He tried to make it sound like a joke. “Break my heart. And you... you’re not afraid of that happening again? Not after what Harry did?”
You nodded slowly, still looking down. “Yeah, I am, sometimes. Maybe more than I admit. But I don’t want that fear. I don't like it. I don’t want to be afraid of something as good as love just because someone misused it. Falling in love is... still one of the best things. It's fun, it's nice. I’m not going to let him take that away from me.”
Frankie leaned his head back against the couch. “It usually ends in a disaster, though. It rips you apart. It doesn’t just hurt, it—it just... Yeah, it fucking hurts.”
“I know, I’m not pretending it doesn’t.”
“And you still want it?”
“Still,” you murmured. “Even after everything. And I get it, right? Like, you promise yourself you’ll never be that open again, never leave the door even slightly cracked. But then someone comes along and you find yourself doing it anyway. You stop noticing how carefully you were guarding yourself, and suddenly you’re not anymore.”
Frankie was silent for a beat. Then:
“Someone like Bill?”
You frowned faintly, but didn’t lift your head. “Bill?”
“Yeah. I told you—I could see he was into you. And he seems decent, doesn’t he?”
“I think so.”
“And Emma likes him. And she's your best friend, she knows you better than anyone. If he’s the way she says... I guess I just think—I think—”
“He is,” you said, cutting gently across his sentence. “He is exactly like she says.”
“Right.” He paused. “He is exactly like she says.”
He just sat there, still as furniture, the heat from his side warming yours. Your fingers moved slightly, brushing his knuckles before curling around them—just barely, just enough to feel it. The shape of his hand in yours felt familiar. 
“But it doesn’t matter, does it?” You whispered. You waited. He didn’t reply. “He’s not who I want.”
Shit. Shit. The words echoed in your mind long after you said them.
Next to you, Frankie stiffened — not dramatically, but enough for you to notice. Enough to make your body react instinctively. Your hand, still tangled with his, turned cold at the fingertips, and you let it slip out of his. It didn’t feel right to keep touching him.
You adjusted your posture, putting space between your bodies, lowering your feet to the floor as if reclaiming a version of yourself that wasn’t so recklessly leaning into him.
A pause stretched between you. You reached over to your purse and fished out your phone. The screen lit up instantly with a message from Emma, timestamped ten minutes earlier.
[Em🐥 ]: I'm home <3 let me know how everything is going, I'll stay up a little longer
You replied with a few quick words — something casual, enough to reassure her you weren’t unraveling, even if a part of you might have been. You told her everything was fine, that you’d be back soon. You slipped the phone back in your bag, your hands quieter now.
“Um,” you said, eyes trained somewhere around the coffee table, anywhere but his face. “Can I use your bathroom?”
“Yeah. Down the hall. First door on the left.”
He hadn’t moved. His back still pressed against the couch, his eyes on you, hand resting exactly where yours had been, like he hadn’t quite registered its absence.
You stood and made your way to the bathroom, maybe a bit too fast. The light flicked on and for a second your eyes narrowed against the brightness. The space was neat — not sterile, just… simple. Everything in its place. No clutter.
You leaned your weight against the wall and exhaled, the sound more fragile than you expected.
Goddamn gin. You hadn’t even had much, just enough to loosen the seams a little. You weren’t drunk — you were just... like this, around Frankie. Words always rushed out like they were being pulled from you. Like he had some quiet gravitational force you hadn’t learned to resist.
And now you’d done it. You’d said too much. You’d pushed him again, out of his comfort zone, out of reach. He’d already been at arm’s length — why did you keep trying to pull him closer? He was probably right to stay there.
You looked at yourself in the mirror. You didn’t look wrecked, at least. Your lipstick hadn’t faded, your eyeliner hadn’t betrayed you. That was something. A small win. Thanks, Emma.
You stayed there longer than you needed to, buying yourself a few more seconds before stepping back into the atmosphere you’d unsettled. But eventually, you knew — you had to take responsibility for what you’d stirred.
You opened the door. The music was still playing, Marc Bolan’s voice floating like a ghost through the room.
Frankie stood by the record player. One hand hovered near his mouth, fingers resting lightly against his lips, the other braced at his hip. He looked like he was studying the motion of the record as it turned or the color of the vinyl.
You stayed where you were, watching his back. “I think I’m gonna head out.”
He didn’t turn fully, just twisted at the waist, his profile barely visible. “Yeah—okay. Or I can drive you, if you’d rather.”
You shook your head before remembering he couldn’t see you. “It’s fine. I’ll get an Uber.”
He nodded once. Not arguing.
You could tell he wasn’t drunk, not really, but you both knew there was just enough alcohol in your systems to complicate things.
He turned back toward the record player and reached forward, stopping it with a practiced motion. Then he carefully lifted the vinyl off it and slid it into its sleeve, his fingertips pressing softly at the edges like he was handling something fragile. He was.
“Thanks for the tea,” you said, watching him. “And for letting me come here. It’s like uncovering a mystery.”
He let out a sound—somewhere between a laugh and a breath—and turned to face you.
“And thank you for showing me your records,” you added.
“You’re welcome. Anytime.”
He looked down at the record in his hand, hesitated, then glanced back up at you.
“I know you don’t have a garage or anything,” he started, “but... here. Take this.” He stepped forward and held it out to you. The record, now tucked neatly in its cover, extended in your direction. “I saw your player. In the bookshop.”
Your fingers closed around the edges, brushing briefly against his.
“Are you sure? It’s yours—”
“You’ll enjoy it more than I do. Really. And maybe you can listen to it at work. Or whenever you want, I mean. ”
You looked down at the cover, letting your eyes trace the artwork, the worn corners. You smiled, and lifted your gaze back to him.
“Thank you,” you said, and you meant it more than he probably knew.
Frankie smiled again. There was peace in his face, but not joy exactly.
“Well,” you said quietly, turning away as your fingers curled around the strap of your purse. “I’ll get a car.” You pulled the phone free, the screen lighting up in your hand. “What’s your address again?”
You glanced up, expecting him to speak quickly, but instead he stepped toward you. Just two steps but enough that the air between you changed. His presence drew up close to yours like heat in a narrow space.
“Um,” he began, eyes flickering down to the phone in your hand. “Two-two-one-one… Hartford—Hart…” He stumbled over the words, his voice catching as if his mind had exited the room entirely. His brow creased, lips parted, eyes still on your screen, but not really seeing it. He ran his hand through his hair, nervous. 
Then he looked at you. You should have said something. You felt it building in your chest, a sentence that never came. You thought, briefly, that you might speak. That you might ask if he was okay, or if maybe—
But you didn’t.
Because he was already there. His hands lifted to your face, gently. And his mouth was so close you felt the first brush of it before you realized he’d leaned in at all.
Your eyes shut instantly. A reflex. A surrender.
His fingers curved along your jaw, thumbs soft at your cheeks, touching you like he was afraid you might vanish. The kiss wasn’t demanding — it was brief, tentative, something barely born.
When you opened your eyes, he was watching you, his gaze darker than you’d ever seen it. Full.
He slipped the vinyl from your hands —carefully— and placed it down on the couch without breaking eye contact. You let your phone fall there too, not bothering to look at it again.
Then his hands were on you again, firmer this time, his grip less cautious. And he kissed you like he’d run out of patience, like he couldn’t talk himself out of it anymore. You met him with the same urgency.
Your heart was thudding, loud and uneven, as if trying to match the rhythm of his. You looped your arms around his neck, pulled him closer, tilted your head to let him in. His tongue slipped into your mouth without hesitation.
You made a quiet sound against his lips, and he responded by pulling you tighter. You reached for his hair, threading your fingers through it, gripping soft strands like you needed something to anchor you to the ground.
You hadn’t even noticed when it happened, not fully — just the subtle shift of his body, the press of his weight, and then the cool firmness of the wall behind your back. One moment you were kissing him like you couldn’t breathe without it, and the next you were pinned, his hands moving down your sides, rough with want but tender with care. His fingers found your hips first, gripped tightly, then slid down, tracing the shape of your thighs, your ass — pulling you into him like he couldn’t stand the idea of space between you.
Your breathing was uneven, catching at the top of each inhale, and his matched yours. You were flushed everywhere, skin hot and tingling, like something inside you had been lit and was now burning recklessly out of control. The closeness wasn’t enough — not nearly. You wanted more of him, all of him, everywhere.
He broke the kiss and moved to your neck like he couldn’t bear to stop touching you. His lips grazed the skin beneath your jaw, warm and searching. Then he bit softly — just enough to make you gasp, your hands instinctively clutching at his shirt. The sound you made seemed to light something in him, because he groaned against your throat, low and needy, the vibration of it sinking straight into your chest.
You opened your eyes, breath shuddering out in fragmented sighs.
“Frankie,” you said, barely above a whisper, not even sure if it was a plea or a warning or both. You tugged gently at his hair, needing him to hear you, to see you.
He lifted his head, his mouth deep pink, eyes heavy and full of something that looked like reverence and hunger all at once. His face was flushed and gorgeous in that ruinous way people look when they’ve stopped pretending.
“I don’t know if you want this.” Your voice didn’t sound like yours — it was fragile, shaky, almost not there at all.
His expression shifted, like something cracked inside him.
“I do,” he said, the words scraping out of his throat. “I do,” he repeated, eyes locked on yours. He rested his forehead against yours. “I’ve been thinking about you. Every damn day. I—” He shook his head like the sentence was useless. “Fuck it.”
Then his mouth was on yours again — hard, urgent, no more waiting. He kissed you like he was making up for every second he hadn’t, his hands cupping your thighs as he lifted you without hesitation. You wrapped your legs around him, your arms tightening around his shoulders, everything in you pulling him closer. The wall disappeared behind you. You didn’t know where he was carrying you, and it didn’t matter. Your eyes were closed and your thoughts had blurred into sensation — pure, overwhelming.
You kissed him like you were starving. Like the world outside this moment had ceased to exist. And then, just as the pace of everything threatened to consume you entirely, he set you down. Carefully. Your back met a soft surface — a bed, you realized. Your chest rose and fell, breathless. The room was dim, nearly pitch dark, until Frankie turned and switched on a lamp beside the bed. A small circle of golden light spread over the sheets, over the shape of his body as he looked at you.
You kicked off your shoes in a clumsy rush. You barely looked at the room itself — barely noticed the furniture, the walls, anything. Your attention had narrowed entirely to him.
He climbed onto the bed, over you, his knee sliding between yours. He kissed you again before you could say anything. Your hands trembled slightly as they moved to his belt. You fumbled, but not out of hesitation — out of the sheer urgency coursing through you. You got the button open, then the zipper, just as his mouth moved to your throat again, this time biting with more certainty, less restraint.
The pain flared, beautiful in the way it folded instantly into pleasure. You moaned, head tilting back, hands still on his waist, and thought briefly, this is happening, and thank god.
You reached for him without thinking, but he was already moving, shifting his weight back onto his knees. A frustrated sound broke in your throat at the absence of his body on yours. But then you saw his hands at the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head in a single motion and tossing it somewhere behind him, careless with everything but you.
You sat up automatically, drawn forward, and placed your hands on his bare abdomen. His skin was warm, soft under your touch, and you could feel the tautness of muscle beneath the surface. Quiet strength, the heat of him, the way desire seemed to radiate outward and settle in the pit of your stomach like something molten.
He guided you back, pressing you into the mattress again. His palms slid down your body, finding your skirt. You bent your knees, lifting your legs to help him, and he removed it with a practiced kind of ease, the fabric sliding down and away.
You sat up again, wordlessly, unthinking, and peeled off your shirt, letting it fall from your fingers to the floor beside the bed.
Frankie reached for you once more, his hands firm. He pushed you back again, settling over you with a kind of certainty that made you feel both cherished and undone. His face hovered just above yours — eyes dark and focused, mouth curved in the faintest smile — and then he kissed you, briefly, almost teasingly, before pulling back a little.
One of his hands pressed into the mattress above your head, steadying himself, while the other moved to your shoulder, tracing the strap of your bra with his knuckles before easing it down your arm. Then the other. His fingers found the center clasp and worked it down, peeling the fabric away until it rested around your waist, leaving your breasts exposed to the room, to him.
Your breath caught in your throat. Your skin buzzed beneath the sudden coolness, your nipples already tight, your whole body reacting before he even touched you again. He looked at you like he was seeing something private and sacred, something he wanted to memorize. Then, finally, he kissed you again, deeper this time, his weight pressing into you as his tongue explored your mouth with aching intensity. You tasted want and something else you didn’t have words for.
His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down your neck, your collarbones, across the soft hollow between them. Every part of you he touched felt heightened, more awake. When his lips finally closed around your nipple, you gasped, your back arching toward him as if your body had made the decision for you.
You reached up and cradled the back of his neck, anchoring him to you, your fingers sliding into his hair as he circled his tongue over the sensitive skin. The sensation pulled a reaction from you so swift, so undeniable, that you barely recognized the sound you made — a moan that felt like it had come from somewhere deeper than your throat.
He moved to your other breast, his hand replacing his mouth on the first, fingers firm and careful, and your body responded again, a rush of heat pooling between your legs. It was impossible to stay still beneath him. 
Frankie let go of you with a wet sound that echoed in the quiet of the room. His mouth trailed lower, over your stomach, leaving behind a warm, glistening path of kisses that made your skin tense beneath him. You felt the brush of his lips against the top of your underwear — the softest press — and yet your hips lifted toward him, needy and instinctual.
His breath hit you there, unsteady and hot. You could hear it—uneven, rushed—against the cotton that separated his mouth from your skin. His hands came to rest around your thighs, thumbs pressing into the softness just above your knees.
And then his mouth was on you. Just the thin barrier of fabric between his tongue and your flesh. The pressure made your back lift off the mattress, your body responding with a gasp. Frankie groaned into you, low and raw, a sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him and vibrated through your body like it belonged to you.
Your fingers found his messy hair and gripped, not knowing what else to do. He pulled back then, just enough to reach for the waistband of your panties, and you didn’t wait for instruction. You raised your hips, legs bent and ready, and he slid them down your thighs in one clean motion.
For a beat, everything went still.
Your knees rested lightly on his shoulders, the bones of your legs brushing against his collarbones. He looked down at you, eyes glazed with something heavier than lust. His cheeks were flushed, lips parted, chest rising in quick, uneven rhythm. He looked like someone caught between prayer and ruin. 
One hand slid along your leg, palm smoothing over the bend of your knee. The other traced the length of your thigh, fingers leaving a trail of heat. Then, without a word, he opened you. And he saw you.
You watched his face change—eyes widening slightly, mouth twitching. You could feel his gaze on you like contact itself, like pressure, like he was touching you just by looking.
But it wasn’t enough. Your body screamed for more, impatient and pulsing. Still, he stayed there, fixed between your legs, studying you like you were made of something he wasn’t sure he deserved.
Then he moved.
His hands slid lower, securing your thighs in his grip. He leaned in and kissed the inside of your left leg, just above the knee. His mouth wandered downward, closer and closer, and you propped yourself on your elbows to see him—to see all of him, hair mussed and lashes shadowing his cheeks as he kissed his way down like he was following a map.
And then he reached your core.
There was no hesitation, no warning—just his mouth on you, all tongue and lips and intention. You cried out without sound, your mouth dropping open, your head falling back against the bed. Every nerve inside you lit up, over and over again, as if your body had been waiting for this exact touch your entire life. You trembled under him, every muscle drawn tight, and the sensation rushed through you in waves so intense you weren’t sure whether you could bear it or beg for more.
Frankie’s tongue moved in steady, circular motions, like he had studied you before this moment, like he knew what would make you fall apart. He groaned against you, the sound low and guttural, and the vibration shot straight through your core.
“Oh my God, Francisco,” you gasped, the words tumbling out of you as your head dropped back onto the pillow. Your eyes squeezed shut. You felt almost outside yourself, like you were watching this happen from somewhere else in the room.
Your hips began to shift, restless with urgency, but his grip on your thighs tightened, keeping you anchored to the bed. His breathing had turned heavy, matching your own, and there was something increasingly frantic in the way his mouth moved on you — like he couldn’t get enough, like he wasn’t just trying to make you come, but to taste your undoing, to drown in it.
It had never been like this. You had known pleasure before, of course, but not this kind. Not the kind that seemed to steal the thoughts from your head and replace them with static. Frankie moved like he could feel every nuance in your body, like he could sense exactly where you were breaking, and pushed just a little further.
You felt it rising inside you, a tension that curled tighter and tighter. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, a movement so quick it almost startled him, your hand finding his hair again and tangling there, tugging with a force you didn’t know you were capable of. He groaned again, louder this time, and the sound rattled against your skin, your ribs, your bones.
Your heartbeat thundered in your chest, a fierce, uneven rhythm. Heat spread through you like fire licking at every corner of your body. Frankie pulled you closer, his tongue moving with a rhythm that felt built for you and no one else. You cried out — not words, just sound — and your head tipped back as the wave overtook you, crashing over your body in a torrent that left you gasping. Every part of you clenched and released, like your body was unraveling and rebuilding all at once.
But he didn’t stop.
Even when your fingers pushed at his hair, even when your body jolted with overstimulation, he kept going — licking, kissing, breathing you in. You whimpered, twisting beneath him, your hand pressing at his forehead until he finally lifted his head, lips wet and eyes dazed.
You were shaking. Completely unmade. Your chest rose and fell in sharp breaths that didn’t feel like enough. And still, he looked at you like he wasn’t finished.
He moved back up over your body, settling on top of you with that same heat still written across his skin. His mouth found yours again, this time soft, almost careful, like he knew you needed a moment.
"You okay?" he asked in a whisper.
You smiled, eyes almost closed. "Yeah. That was... Yeah." You caressed his face, your fingers running over it as if you wanted to memorize it.
Frankie smiled. Then he moved to your neck, kissing the place just below your jaw, again and again, like he knew you loved it. Or maybe he just wanted to stay there for a while.
Your hand trailed back down his chest, each movement deliberate not in pace but in purpose. His skin was warm under your fingertips, the faintest ridge of muscle beneath the softness. You brushed past his navel, past the band of his boxers, and without pausing, you slipped your hand beneath the fabric. The hair there, and then—further down—you found him.
Hard. Large. Hot in your palm.
You opened your eyes. The ceiling was a blur, the room spinning softly around the edges. Frankie let out a sound into your neck and it curled around your spine like a fuse catching fire. The sound did something to you. You didn’t have a name for it, but it made your breath catch and your body ache.
“Please,” you whispered, hoarse, sure what you were asking for. Just more. Just him.
He stilled, his breath uneven. Then he shifted, pulling away from your body with effort, like detaching two pieces of something that had always belonged together. He rose from the bed without saying anything, and you stayed where you were—sprawled across his sheets, boneless and burning—watching him silently.
Frankie bent to remove his shoes, then his jeans. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, as if witnessing this needed the reverence of attention. When he pulled off his boxers, you went still.
There he was. Completely bare. Standing in the amber light of the bedside lamp like a statue half-finished, chest rising with every sharp breath, cock full and thick and impossibly beautiful in the dimness. He didn’t say anything, just looked at you with that expression again—like he was still trying to believe you were real.
He climbed back onto the bed, one knee between your legs, one hand stroking himself with an absent-minded kind of urgency. You felt your mouth go dry and wet at once, your body too aware of every inch of him. The sight of him touching himself in front of you was almost too much.
He opened the drawer on his nightstand and pulled out a foil packet. You sat up, instinctively, and reached for him, your hand wrapping around his length. You moved your palm up and down, gentle, reverent. His breathing fractured.
“Fuck, baby,” he murmured, the words barely audible.
He tore open the wrapper with shaking fingers. You let go and watched him carefully as he rolled the condom on. You leaned back, your skin hypersensitive, your nipples prickling with the faintest movement of air.
Then he was over you again, his body shadowing yours, arms bracketing your head like he needed to keep you beneath him. His mouth found yours—not ravenous, not frenzied. Just… kind.
He kissed you like he meant it, like he had all the time in the world to taste you. Lips brushing yours with a softness that felt dangerous. Like this could be something more than heat and breath and tension. Like this might break you open if you let it.
And you let it. Because you were already breaking.
You felt him there, right at the edge of you—his body so close it was hard to tell where yours ended. You tilted your hips toward him instinctively, something inside you guiding the movement without thought. Frankie’s mouth brushed yours again, and he smiled—barely, just enough for you to feel it. His left hand planted itself above your head, steadying. His other hand shifted between you, grounding you in a way that felt both gentle and firm.
Your arms went around his neck. You couldn’t help it. You needed to hold him. Needed to feel every inch of him pressed against you.
And then he pushed inside.
The stretch was exquisite, each inch of him invading you in a way that made your lungs forget how to work. Your mouth parted, but no sound came out—just air, caught in your throat. He stopped halfway in, his breath faltering, forehead nearly resting against yours. And then he drew back, not completely, just enough to make you ache, and slid in again. This time deeper. A shiver ran down your spine.
You moaned—soft at first, involuntary. When you opened your eyes, his face was right there. His expression was undone, like he’d broken apart and hadn’t figured out how to reassemble himself yet. He was looking at you, but it wasn’t just about sex. There was something else in his gaze.
Then he kissed you again—messier this time, more urgent, like he needed your mouth the same way he needed everything else. He moved inside you harder, hips shifting into a rhythm that felt like a storm brewing just beneath your skin. It wasn’t just the pressure or the depth—it was the way it built, how it stole your breath more with every thrust.
The noises that came from you weren’t delicate. They were raw, real, rising in pitch as his body collided with yours. The slap of skin, the creak of the bedframe, the heavy breath between both of your mouths—it all blurred into one sound, constant and deafening and perfect.
He groaned into your ear, a low, shaken sound. Your hands clung to his back, nails dragging across his skin as if anchoring yourself to the moment. You felt him respond to the sting of it—his hips snapping forward harder.
He was driving you deeper into the mattress with each movement. You felt it in your ribs, in your thighs, in your soul. The wall behind the bed thudded in rhythm, the room echoing back the chaos you two were making.
Your chest heaved. Your face was flushed. There were tears pricking behind your eyes for no reason you could explain—just too much sensation, too much want. A buzz built beneath your skin, sweet and dizzying, until it filled your whole body like electricity.
You bit him.
You weren’t thinking, not really—your teeth found his shoulder, his neck, like you needed something to hold onto or you might disappear. And he let you. He groaned again, a sound that went straight through your body and took up residence somewhere deep inside.
And still—he didn’t stop.
His moans shifted—deeper now, full-bodied. You opened your eyes and ran your hands over his back, tracing the dip of his spine, the tension in his shoulders, the thickness of his arms. You adjusted beneath him, tilting your hips in a way that made your intent unmistakable. He paused just enough to register it.
So he moved, wordlessly. Rolled off you and onto his back, hands already on your hips as if his body had anticipated yours.
You climbed over him in one fluid movement, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. Your center brushed along the length of him and your breath caught like a thread pulled tight in your chest. His hands remained on you.
You pushed the hair from your face and let one palm rest on his chest—warm, firm, rising and falling beneath your touch. Your other hand moved between your thighs, guiding him toward you. And then, with both hands braced on his chest, you sank down onto him.
Your head tipped back. Your mouth opened in something between relief and reverence. He filled you completely. Every inch of him belonged inside you and your body knew it instinctively.
At first, you moved gently—learning the rhythm, feeling every part of him stretch and press inside you. But the pressure built quickly, rising in waves, until your hips began to move with more urgency. Up, down, again, again. The bed shifted beneath you, groaning with each motion. Frankie’s hands slid from your waist to your ass, gripping you tightly as he began to move with you, helping you take him deeper, harder.
You leaned forward, placing your hands on either side of his head. His eyes were glazed with heat. He let out a sound—low, strained—and then bent his head just enough to capture one of your breasts in his mouth. Your hips stuttered. The contact made you gasp.
You were unraveling. Melting over him, against him, around him. Every nerve in your body lit up, overwhelmed by sensation. The room filled with the echo of it all—flesh meeting flesh, your breath hitching and breaking, the slick sounds that made your whole body feel like it was vibrating.
Then Frankie growled—a dark, guttural sound that you felt more than heard. He grabbed your waist and pressed you flush against him, arms aroung you, lifting his knees for leverage. He began thrusting up into you, hard and purposeful, meeting you with a rhythm so perfect it felt like your body had been made for this exact moment.
You pressed your hands to his shoulders for balance and looked down at him.
He was stunning. Absolutely undone. Hair matted to his forehead, his cheeks flushed with exertion, his lips parted, damp and pink. His eyes met yours—dark, shining—and you felt like you could drown in them.
You leaned down and kissed him, a shaky moan caught between your mouths. He was still moving beneath you and it was almost too much. Every thrust scraped against something inside you that made your vision blur.
You broke the kiss and gasped against his cheek. Your fingers dug into his skin, holding on like you might fall apart.
Your mouth found his again, and this time you bit down softly on his lower lip, just as you felt the wave crest. His hips stuttered beneath you, erratic now, almost frantic. You heard the shift in his breath—the sharp intake, the strangled exhale—and then you felt it. His release. The moment his body surrendered entirely, muscles tightening, his grip on you fierce and unthinking.
Your vision blurred as your own pleasure surged alongside his, crashing into you in a way that made your hands clench around his shoulders, your spine arch, your thighs tremble where they straddled his hips. Frankie groaned—gutural and right against your neck—and the sound felt like it was stitched into your skin.
When it ended, he didn’t move right away. Just held you there, still connected, one hand splayed across your back, the other resting on your hip like a tether. You let your forehead fall into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smelled like skin and sweat and something warm that you couldn’t name but never wanted to forget.
After a few breaths—his still uneven, yours catching on the edge of a sigh—you lifted your face. Your eyes met his in the half-light. It felt impossibly quiet. Like nothing else existed outside that room, that bed, that look.
You raised a hand and touched his cheek with your fingertips. He turned into your palm like it was instinct. You kissed him once, soft and lingering, and then began to shift off him, your body aching in the best kind of way.
But before you could fully roll away, his hand caught your arm. He pulled you gently back against his chest, like he wasn’t ready to lose the weight of you yet. His other hand came up to your face, brushing over your cheekbone with careful tenderness.
“You okay?” he asked. His voice was low, raw. Like it had been scraped out of him.
You nodded and kissed him again. “I'm okay. You?”
Your head settled on his chest, and your hand moved across his skin in idle strokes. You could feel his heartbeat under your cheek, strong and steady, the rise and fall of his breath slowly evening out.
“I’m okay, baby,” he said, barely above a murmur.
No consequence felt significant in that exact moment.
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phas3d · 1 year ago
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Famous!s/o Makes A Song About Him | Slytherin Boys
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type :: fluff
tw/cw :: sexual hints (mattheo)
contains :: draco, tom, matt, theo, lorenzo
summary :: you're a rising pop star, similar to sabrina carpenter/olivia rodrigo and you dedicate a song to them
notes :: heavy inspo from @goldsainz and their writing for f1 drivers! i've been binge reading all of their stuff pls go read it :) they're lowkey inspiring me to make my own f1 page LMAOOOO
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DRACO MALFOY "i know i have good judgement, i know i have good taste" - please please please by sabrina carpenter
He listens to the sing intensely, he's enjoying it but you can't read his face properly - thank god you were performing on stage so you couldn't look at his judgy face
But as you keep singing and poking jokes at him, he can't help but break his strong stare and chuckle. He hated admitting that you were funny, but goddamnit your fans just recorded him laughing and blushing
Once you finish performing, he smiles happily and cheers. He can't help but continue to laugh and shake his head from his own shock that YOU, the (y/n) who's famous, beautiful, and talented, is singing a song about HIM???
He'd never admit that all out loud, but you could read him so easily, you knew he was wrapped around your finger
Once your performance is over he greets you backstage with a smile that he's desperately trying to hide
"The song was a solid 8/10" he says as you scoff at him, you could tell he loved it and was too much of a wuss to admit it
And you were right, he has that song on REPEAT - he probably gave you like a million streams on his own
TOM RIDDLE "my baby, here on earth - showed me what my heart was worth" - my love mine all mine by mitski
When he first heard it, he's shocked that it's so somber and slow compared to your usual upbeat songs
He's even more shocked when he hears the lyrics and how simple yet impactful it is, it almost makes him blush
Tom has always been a sucker for poetry and music with simple instrumentals, so when you combined those both into this song he felt so loved
Once you finish performing it for the first time, he can't help but smile to himself, looking at the floor and putting his hand over his mouth to mask his happiness
When you finally come back stage, he walks up to you and hugs you tightly - despite PDA being literally vomit worthy for him
It surprises you so much, you weren't even aware you could have this impact on the cold-hearted Tom - but you did and you loved every second of it
Your song plays on repeat for him constantly, it reminds him that he's loved. He's never ever felt that in his entire life, even from his own brother
The song healed a small part of his deeply broken heart and soul, and he's so grateful for you to bring him even the slightest bit of joy, especially because he knows how difficult he is at times
MATTHEO RIDDLE "the boy is mine, i cant wait to try him, lets get intertwined" - the boy is mine by ariana grande
The second he hears the song and the lyrics, he's smirking and feeling so confident. The entire song is just basically flexing that he's yours - but he feels like he should be the one singing about you like this
Everything about the song is suited to match him perfectly, the beats, the sexual lyrics, even the choregraphy is amazing to him - it's like a perfect art piece just for him
Once you finish recording it, he's left dumbfounded and just smiling. It doesn't help that you send him a wink as well, making his already rapid heart beat even faster
After you finish the entire show, he can't get his hands off of you. He kisses you everywhere, does every command you ask of him, and drives you home at 100 mph
He wants to reward you :)
THEODORE NOTT "when i talk to you, oh cupid walks right through and shoots an arrow through my heart" - from the start by laufey
This song was basically a confession to him, which you hoped he wouldn't notice, but he did instantly and he loved every second of it
He had zero clue you had feelings for him, and vice versa. You guys were both known as the oblivious slow burn couple but you both were clueless to this rumor
Once you perform it live on stage, he decides to steal a random bouquet of flowers from a fan and run backstage to greet you
He gifts you the stolen flowers and smirks, "If you love me just say so," He says with a cocky grin on his face
Before you can tell him to shut up and stop stroking his ego, he leans down to your height and gives you a peck on the lips - making both of you blush
"Once you're done performing, how about we go on a little date" He says with a cute smile, making it impossible to say no
But he lied - that date was not "little" and instead one of the fanciest restaurants ever that he paid extra to play your entire debut album over and over for all the patrons to hear
He's your biggest fan ever and posts your song about him everywhere, literally fucking everyone god he can't stop
LORENZO BERKSHIRE "tangled in love, stuck by you from the glue" - glue song by beabadoobee
Oh my gosh he's already your biggest fan boy ever, so when you sing this song as a surprise gift for him - he's freaking out and shaking against the barriers
He bites his lip and smiles as you sing this cheesy love song about him - he's never had his ego been this inflated and he loves it
Once you finish singing, he screams and shouts so loud that even your die hard fans start to judge him
But he doesn't care and he runs backstage so fast you'd think he's the Flash. He waits backstage for you like an excited puppy waiting for their owner. You could almost see his tag wag from how bright his smile is
The second you walk off the stage, he hugs you tightly and covers you in a thousand kisses - your makeup artist won't be happy but you don't care
"Ohmygosh!!! I love it! I love you! You're so sweet! Ohmygosh!!! The hottest EVER just wrote a song about me!!! A happy little love song!!! Is that the song you've been practicing for so long? Why did you never tell me-" You laugh and shut him up with a kiss on the lips and then another one on his cheek - giving him a kiss lipstick mark on his face
He understands you need to go back and perform so he leaves
Oh, also he doesn't remove your kiss :) He keeps it there the wholeeee night
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kairoot · 1 year ago
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𝑴𝑶𝑶𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 — 西村力.
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𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: during the village’s annual moon festival, the moon shines big and bright. legend says that it reveals a person’s true emotions under its light and can rekindle lost feelings. when you move to the little romance village, it’s bustling with talk of the festival and a famous local painter. deciding to see what the gossip was about, you attend said moon festival. but what happens when you run into this unknown artist under the moon’s light?
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: niki x 𝑓.𝗋����𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 : fluff , s2l, soulmates (???), folklore kinda thing.. 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 : no 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : riki is kind of a loner .. ( 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒏’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 ) : special thank you to nini ^^ @flwrstqr for proofreading for me, I love u ♡︎. pls leave reblogs, they are much appreciated !! ♡︎ WC: 3.3K
**
THE VILLAGE SQUARE WAS a kaleidoscope of lights, colors, and laughter. Lanterns hung from just about every surface, casting a warm, golden glow over the cobblestone streets. The air was full of sweet scents, coming from every corner of the small town.
You weaved through the large crowd, taking in all of the sights and sounds. It was beyond anything you’d ever experienced. Being a new resident to the town, you couldn’t understand what all of the excitement was about over one festival but now you felt the same way everyone else did.
Melodic strains of the village’s music played, causing people all around to dance together, not caring if they were strangers to one another. You smiled, the sight somehow bringing you joy.
After walking a few miles, an older shop catches your eye. The traditional decorations hanging outside the tiny building, with a crescent moon sketched on the wooden door. You opened it to walk in, the small bell ringing as the door moved.
You were greeted with the sharp tang of an earthy aroma of dried clay and the rich smell of more wood from the easels, frames, and shelves. The subtle hint of fresh pencil shavings, and the crisp scent of new canvases waiting to be transformed.
A few employees smiled and waved at you, their kindness making you feel welcome as you got ready to explore this new environment. The store was quiet; the only noise being a few painters conversing with one another, the low traditional music that played in the background, and pencils or paintbrushes moving against the canvases.
You walked further into the shop, wandering around the shelves to look at different tools and paintings that had been hung up on display.
You ran your hand over the wooden shelf, another crescent moon etched into the dark surface.
This town is serious about the moon, you thought.
You continued your mini journey through the aisles, amazed by some of the artistry inside of them.
But a certain painting seems to pique your interest. You let your feet guide you to the image, captivated by the delicate brushstrokes that brought the scene to life. Just as you let your fingertips graze the painting, another hand brushed against yours. Startled, you pulled your hand away at the same time as the other person’s, causing the art to fall to the ground.
“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologize to the stranger, before you both chuckle at the small incident. The stranger crouches to pick the canvas up from the ground, holding it with a firm grasp.
You look up, only to see a much taller male in front of you, dressed in all black with a paint splattered apron tied around his waist. His eyes sharp but filled with surprise as he stared back at you.
His beauty captivated you in a way. In a way where you couldn’t even find your words or perhaps even start a conversation.
You both stood silently until he sucked in a breath, hesitant on whether he wanted to say something.
“So, uh—, arts’ your thing, too?” He glanced at the painting in his hands and then back at you, a gentle smile making its way to his face.
“I guess I’ve found it kind of interesting lately,” you beamed, feeling a bit more at ease. “What about you?”
“Yeah, uh, this is mine actually..” He trailed off. Your eyes widened in surprise, suddenly feeling guilty for the incident that had occurred a few minutes earlier.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to knock it down, I was just curious, and—“
He looked down, chuckling, “It’s no problem. I was thinking of chunking it anyway.”
Your brows furrowed in confusion, “But it’s way too good for you to just throw away like that.”
He shrugged, still smiling a bit. “I don’t know.. I’m just not too fond of it.”
You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “Why’s that? It seems really beautiful to me.”
He looked at you with a spark of enthusiasm in his eyes. “Well, if you’re interested, you can make your own. I give mini-lessons from time to time. If you’re free, I’d be happy to show you some techniques.”
A smile crept onto your face. “I’d love that.”
“I’m Riki, by the way.” He extended his larger hand.
You shook his hand, the warm and firm grip making you feel as if you had butterflies in your stomach.
“Y/n.”
The sunlight filtered gently through the shop's windows, casting a warm, inviting glow over the art supplies and canvases. You arrived at the store a bit early, your excitement barely contained. Riki was setting up a small workspace in the back corner, his movements precise and deliberate. The room was filled with the rich scents of paint and wood, a comforting backdrop for the lesson ahead.
“Hey,” Riki greeted as you walked in, his smile making your heart flutter. “Ready for your mini-lesson?”
You nodded, trying to maintain a calm exterior but feeling a tingle of nerves. “Definitely!”
Riki’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he motioned for you to join him at the small table. “Alright, grab an apron and we’ll start with some basics. I’ll show you how to create depth and texture in your painting.”
You took one of the dark aprons off of the hook by the door and took a seat. Riki’s proximity made you acutely aware of his presence. He stood close enough that you could catch the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the earthy aroma of the paint. As he demonstrated the brushstrokes, his hand occasionally brushed against yours, sending a shy smile to your lips.
“Alright, so you want to use a light touch for the highlights,” Riki said, his voice warm and encouraging. He leaned in slightly to show you the technique up close, his face just inches from yours. The closeness made your cheeks warm, and you found it hard to focus on the painting as you became acutely aware of the soft sound of his breath and the gentle way he spoke.
“Like this,” he continued, guiding your hand with his own. His fingers were careful and steady, and you felt a gentle pressure as he helped you maneuver the brush. “The key is to layer the colors gradually, so it builds up the texture without looking too harsh.”
His hand lingered on yours for a moment longer than necessary, and you couldn’t help but glance up at him. Riki’s eyes were soft, and his smile was reassuring. “You’re doing great. Just remember to relax and let the brush do the work.”
You nodded, trying to steady your breath as you followed his instructions. The way he spoke to you, with such patience and attentiveness, made your heart race. Each time he leaned in to offer guidance, you felt a flutter of shyness but also an endearing sense of comfort.
Riki moved to the other side of the table, giving you space but still offering occasional tips and encouragement. “You’re really picking this up fast,” he said with genuine admiration, his voice carrying a note of pride. “You have a natural eye for detail..”
You blushed at his compliment, focusing on your painting with renewed determination. “Thanks. I’ve really enjoyed learning from you.”
He smiled warmly, his eyes reflecting a hint of something more than just professional interest. “I’ve enjoyed having you as my ‘student’.”
As the lesson continued, you found yourself growing more confident. Riki’s careful instruction and the way he interacted with you made the experience both educational and heartwarming. Every time he offered a correction or praised your work, it felt like a gentle nudge toward something greater.
By the end of the session, you were both smiling, the painting before you a testament to the techniques Riki had shared. “I think you’re ready for more advanced techniques next time,” he said, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. “But for now, you’ve done really great.”
You beamed, feeling a mix of accomplishment and affection for the kind-hearted teacher who had made your art journey so special. “Thank you. I can’t wait for our next lesson.”
As you packed up your things, Riki’s gaze lingered on you with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. “I’m looking forward to it too,” he said softly. “See you soon.”
You left the shop with a smile, carrying not just the knowledge of painting but also the warmth of a shared connection.
A few days later, the festival was in full swing again, but this time it was a different night. You decided to take a quiet walk to a nearby beach, not too far from the festival setup. The moon hung low in the sky, casting its silver light over the ocean waves.
You carried with you a small set of painting materials, inspired by the techniques Riki had taught you. Setting up on the sand, you began to paint the scene before you: the moonlit waves and the gentle shimmer of the water. With each brushstroke, you used the tips he had given you, trying to capture the serene beauty of the moment.
The night was quiet, save for the soft sound of the waves and the occasional distant laughter from the festival. As you worked, you felt a sense of peace and contentment, lost in the beauty of the moment.
After a while, you sensed someone approaching. Turning slightly, you saw Riki walking towards you, his eyes bright with curiosity and admiration. He stopped a few feet away, watching you paint with a soft smile on his face.
"Hey," he greeted, his voice gentle. "I didn't expect to find you here."
You smiled back, feeling a flutter of happiness at his presence. "I needed some quiet time to practice. I’ve been kind of inspired."
Riki moved closer, sitting down next to you on the sand. His proximity was comforting, and you felt a warm sense of connection as he admired your work. "You've really captured the essence of the scene," he said, his eyes scanning your painting. "It's like seeing the world through your eyes."
His compliment made your heart swell with pride. "Thanks.. I’ve been trying to use the techniques you taught me.”
“Oh, really?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on his face. “My techniques?”
You chuckled lightly, nodding, “Yes, your technique.”
You continued to paint, occasionally glancing at Riki, who watched with genuine interest.
The moonlight cast a soft glow on his features, making the moment feel even more magical. After a while, Riki spoke, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.
"You know, the legend of the moon... it's said to reveal the truth about one's emotions," he began, his eyes fixed on the waves. "I've always been afraid to let the moon see mine, not after what happened before."
You looked at him with curiosity. “What happened?”
He sighed softly, looking out at the ocean. “I once let the moonlight reveal my true feelings and it led to heartbreak. It was... painful.. But that’s a story for another day..”
He turned to you, his eyes sincere and vulnerable. “Somehow, being with you, I don’t feel that fear. There’s something about tonight, and about you, that makes me believe in the magic of the moon again.”
You felt a pang of sympathy and reached out, gently placing your hand on his. “Riki, you don’t have to talk about it if you’re not comfortable.”
He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. “Thank you. It’s just... hard to think about sometimes. The pain was so real, and it made me afraid to show my true emotions again.”
You squeezed his hand gently, offering him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Take your time. I’m here. Though we met nights ago, I’m here.”
 Riki‘s eyes softened, and he gave you a small, appreciative smile. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”
The moon’s light bathed the beach in a gentle glow, illuminating the quiet understanding between you. Riki’s honesty and openness resonated deeply, and you felt a sense of connection that was both comforting and profound.
He shifted slightly, moving closer to you until your shoulders almost touched. The warmth of his body next to yours was a silent reassurance, a wordless promise of support. “You’re really something, you know that?” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you turned to look at him, finding his gaze already on you. “I could say the same about you,” you replied, feeling the intimacy of the moment deepen.
Riki’s eyes held a mixture of vulnerability and strength, a silent testament to the pain he carried and the bravery it took to admit it. He took a deep breath, his fingers brushing against yours as he spoke. “It’s just... sometimes the memories are too painful. But being here with you, it makes it a little easier to bare.”
You felt a surge of tenderness for him, your heart aching at the thought of the hurt he’d endured. “I’ll be here, whenever you’re ready.”
He nodded, his eyes glistening with unspoken emotion. “Thank you. It’s... it’s a lot, but knowing I have someone who understands means everything.”
The waves whispered their secrets to the shore, and the moon shone down, wrapping you both in its gentle embrace. The moment was filled with quiet revelations and tender support, a reminder that sometimes, the simple act of being present could be the greatest comfort of all. 
As the night continued, you returned to your painting, the brush gliding smoothly across the canvas. Riki watched you with a gentle smile, his eyes filled with admiration and something more—a tenderness that was growing stronger with each passing moment.
Unbeknownst to both of you, the moonlight was beginning to take effect, subtly enhancing the emotions between you. Every glance exchanged, every soft touch, carried a deeper meaning, an unspoken promise of what could be.
You finished your painting, setting the brush down and turning to Riki. He reached out, taking your hand in his. “Come on,” he said softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Let’s take a break.”
He led you to the water’s edge, where the waves gently lapped at the shore. The cool water splashed over your feet, sending a delightful shiver up your spine. Riki laughter filled the air, infectious and free, and you couldn’t help but join in.
You ran along the shoreline, the waves chasing after you, and for a moment, all your worries melted away. Riki caught up to you, grabbing your hand and spinning you around, both of you laughing as you stumbled into the shallow waves.
The moonlight danced on the water, casting a magical glow over everything. You splashed each other, the cool water mingling with the warmth of your laughter. Riki’s hand never left yours, his grip firm yet gentle, grounding you in the moment.
At one point, he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as the waves rolled in. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you under the moon’s tender gaze. You looked up at him, your heart swelling with an emotion you couldn’t quite name but felt deeply in your soul.
“Riki,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the ocean.
He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “I know,” he replied softly, his breath mingling with yours. “I feel it too.”
The moonlight seemed to intensify, casting a silver halo around you both. The moment stretched, filled with unspoken words and shared feelings. Then, with a gentle tug, Riki led you back to the shore, where you sat together, the waves gently lapping at your feet.
You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth seep into you. The night was filled with love-filled glances and quiet intimacy, a perfect blend of comfort and connection. The magic of the moon had done its work, weaving a spell of closeness that would linger long after the night had ended.
You both sat in comfortable silence for a while, the rhythmic sound of the waves providing a soothing backdrop. Riki’s fingers traced gentle patterns on your hand, his touch sending a pleasant shiver through you. He seemed lost in thought, and you didn’t want to disturb the quiet peace that had settled over you both.
But then, as if needing to break the silence, he spoke again, his voice soft and filled with emotion. “You know, sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever fully heal from what happened. It’s like a part of me is still stuck in that moment.”
You turned to him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. “Healing takes time, Riki. And it’s okay to feel that way. Just remember, you don’t have to face it alone.”
He looked at you, his eyes searching yours. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I do. Whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here. And if you’re not ready, that’s okay too.”
Riki’s gaze softened, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. 
The intimacy of the moment deepened, the air around you thick with unspoken emotions. Riki’s fingers continued to trace gentle patterns on your hand, each touch sending a warm, tingling sensation through you. You could feel the connection between you growing stronger, the bond solidifying in a way that felt both natural and profound.
As the night wore on, the two of you shared stories, laughter, and moments of comfortable silence. You found yourself opening up to him in ways you hadn’t expected, sharing parts of yourself you usually kept hidden. Riki listened with genuine interest, his responses thoughtful and kind.
Eventually, the lure of the waves became irresistible again, and you found yourselves splashing through the shallows, once again, laughing and playing like children. Riki’s laughter was infectious, his joy a balm to your soul. You chased each other through the surf, the cool water a delightful contrast to the warmth of your growing affection.
At one point, Riki caught you around the waist, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. You laughed, the sound pure and free, your heart swelling with happiness. He set you down gently, his arms still wrapped around you as the waves hit your ankles.
The moonlight bathed you both in its gentle glow, casting a magical light over the scene. Riki’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin.
“Thank you for tonight,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “For everything.”
You smiled, your heart full. “I should be the one thanking you. This has been... amazing.”
Riki’s eyes held a promise, a silent vow of what could be. “Let’s make a pact,” he said softly. “No more hiding. From the moon, from each other, from ourselves.”
You nodded, feeling a surge of hope and determination. “Deal.”
The night continued, filled with love-filled glances, quiet intimacy, and the gentle lapping of the waves. The magic of the moon had woven a spell of connection and understanding, one that would linger long after the festival lights had faded. As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, you knew that this night would be a cherished memory, a moment of pure, unadulterated connection.
And as Riki‘s hand found yours once more, you knew that even if you had met only nights before, for some reason you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.
TAGLIST: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz @enha-stars @dioll @jakesangel @cupidscourt @violetwitchmcu @haohaoshoe @randomgirl02228 @wonsdoll @powerpuffstuts @flwrstqr @elysianiki — send an ask to join.
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needfantasticstories · 1 year ago
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“Many places I have been
Many sorrows I have seen
But I don't regret
Nor will I forget
All who took that road with me”
-The Last Goodbye by Billy Boyd
This is an Adjuration by @not-freyja, after 86 chapters, 300k words, and 10 months of joy, laughter, tears, heartbreak and love, has finally reached its end. 
Adjuration is a tragedy that is nothing short of an act of love. That much is clear in the passion and dedication put towards the story, the characters, and the message Freyja is trying to convey. This fic will teach you about love. About death. About the inevitability of existence and why despite knowing it will all come to an end, there is still meaning in trying and hoping and loving each other. In loving yourself. You will laugh, you will cry, you will hope and you will despair as you read this story, but you will not be able to put it down.
It’s hard to say goodbye to something that has been so important to and loved by so many people. So we won’t. Instead, we will say thank you for this incredible journey and the community this fic has built. For the friendships that have been made and the endless inspiration you have given us. Thank you for wanting to tell a story, and for letting us join you around the campfire to listen.
Thank you.
(If you like Linked Universe and haven’t yet read Adjuration, see below for spoiler free reviews of this fic and artist credits.)
This is an Adjuration is the kind of story you fall in love with, the kind of story you think keep thinking about long after you put it down. The kind you keep finding hidden details in after you think you’ve got it figured out. 
The characters are distinct and people with their own voices, motivations, relationships and histories. You’ll have your favourites but love them all. They influence how you’ll see the characters in everything else. 
It’s full of moments where everything clicks and everything before is recontextualised in a way that’s so satisfying and make the whole story very re-readable. A time travel story where all loops are already closed, where you can know but not yet understand what will happen. It’s long, complex, and beautifully, meticulously planned and detailed. It’s clever and considered, funny and heartbreaking. 
A story that whispers ‘it matters’ over and over. It is worth it to love, it is worth it if it doesn’t last forever, it is worth it to give someone a little more time, it is worth it to fight. It’s about loving others and your world and finding grace for yourself. 
It’s loss and tragedy and the cruelness of fate. It is the sacrifice and the breaking. 
Full of heart to both fill yours and break it in the best possible way. 
It’s about love. Always.
By @toyouhellohowareyou
Sometimes, it’s hard to explain to others why art moves us.
I could tell you This is an Adjuration will make you cry, laugh, and sit at the edge of your seat in anticipation. And it’s probably true - I did all of that as I read, often with a coffee in one hand, early in the morning as I got ready for the day. 
But that’s not the reason why I’m writing this.
The real reason is how it followed me during the rest of the day.
You see, at a certain point I realized this isn’t a story about Links going on adventures. Well, it does feature Links, and they do go on adventures, so let’s talk about that for a minute.
The first thing that caught my attention about this book was the characters. Each individual is unique, interesting, and exciting to follow. Not only are the Links individually compelling, but one thing that stands out in Adjuration is how the relationship between each Hero and their own worlds matter, and these connections shift, evolve, break and grow as the plot progresses.
Freyja does an incredible job of bringing together impactful storytelling with humor and heart. This is an Adjuration starts with an interesting premise, and then twists and turns in directions you wouldn’t expect. It’s rich in thought-provoking moments, soft joy and intense action, blended in with carefully crafted time travel and magic.
Adjuration sucked me into the world it builds, combining believable characters with fascinating stories, an unnervingly devious antagonist, plot twists, and lovingly crafted details that slip unnoticed until you’re surrounded on all sides. It made me cheer for characters I feel as if I’ve known intimately for years, made me worry for their safety as I would for that of a loved one, kept me hunting for hints and hidden references, pulling on a thread to try to find the end only for it to twist and loop into itself and show me a completely new side to the story.
Yes, This is an Adjuration is a fanfiction piece that explores the winding river flow of the Legend of Zelda timeline and how the stories of each Hero merge into each other. It also stands out for its heavy emotional content, and it doesn’t shy away from angst and hurt.
But to me, Adjuration is an epic journey that taught me how the choices we make, make us in turn. It’s a tragedy that deals with pain and healing, and it bares naked the non-linear nature of grief. It’s a celebration of the things that make us unique, of our flaws, an essay of the impact of little acts of love. Indeed, it’s a story about love.
I can tell you now, This is an Adjuration moved me. It still does. It has a special way to surface in my mind in unexpected ways at seemingly random times, from something as simple as tossing an apple core, to watching a lightning storm in the distance, or finding a picture of an old friend.
And every time, without fail, it makes me think about love.
By @sunny-porridge
This is an Adjuration is a wonderfully and beautifully crafted story about love, loss, and choice as the various incarnations of Link come together and travel through time. Freyja seamlessly weaves a tapestry of setup and payoff across different timelines and loops, in the best-constructed time travel plot I’ve ever seen on page or screen. Even at its surface, Adjuration is an emotional rollercoaster involving tragedy and the soft moments that make that tragedy worth it. But the deeper you look, the more meaning you can pull from every chapter of this amazing work. This work has made me cry, squeal with delight, and think more deeply about its themes all while having an absolute blast reading it. So in summary: READ IT. READ IT. READ IT NOW. YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT.
By @life-in-winter
While I love that every chapter is emotionally enthralling, with carefully woven, visceral tension you crave in any good story, yet Adjuration is more than that, and you feel it in the careful weave of each character and plot point. Nothing is lost or unanswered. It's the kind of story that, by the end, makes you stop and take a hard look at your own life. Are you appreciating the now? Are you savoring joy? Are you so wrapped up in fear that you can hardly take care of yourself? Do you know who you are?
This story is more like an external experience. It's riding atop a tsunami. How do you handle that ride, Link?
There aren't enough words to describe how amazing this fic is.
@needfantasticstories
Artist credit
Legend: @gia-d
Hyrule: @bittirsweeteer
Time: @toonblade
Sky: @noorahqar
Warriors: @whitewinterstar
Wild: @weavingstarlight
Twilight: @bluury2
Wind: @thewitchdoctor39
Four: @lunaopus
Red: @peepthatbish
Blue: @glowingmin
Green: @winterfen
Vio: @waterfallstream
Shadow: @deleetrix
Wolfie: @linkiscool333
Fierce Deity: @awildsilver
Ravio: @lele5429
Malon: @tooner-tastic
Dink: @passerinesoncaffeine
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lunarlilacmoon · 28 days ago
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I asked my wife for fic idea’s and she gave me two. This is the first!
All of my Gratitude
Melissa Schemmenti x reader
Warnings: very little plot, eating out (Melissa receiving), fingering (Melissa receiving), established relationship, sorry for any misspelling or missed warnings!
Summary: It your first teacher parent conference and everything that could go wrong all day has! Thankfully for you, your neighbor teacher, also your girlfriend, is there to help you at every mishap. I mean the only thing you can do to repay her is to give her ANYTHING she wants. Of course!
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“Oh you stupid f- please not again!” I huffed, throwing a mini silent tantrum in the printer room. I kicked the printer with the toe of my heel not even expecting it to work but just as an extra fuck you.
“Toots beating the machine up isn’t going to get you your papers.” Melissa’s voice startled me as she appeared in the doorway smirking.
“I know! I’m not trying to help, I’m trying to hurt.” I huffed again.
“Aww but thats my job.” She teased brushing past me and messing with the printer.
I was still staring at the empty doorway in shock. Both at her quickness with that and you boldness to say it at work.
“There you go!” Her words were punctuated by the sound of my papers continuing to print.
“Oh thank heavens! Thank you!” I exhaled in relief offering her a peck on the cheek.
“Well if thats my reward I hope the printer blocks up again.” She smirked before walking out.
- - - -
All day everything went wrong left and right.
First the printer.
Then the lost parent files.
No coffee in the machine.
Leaking bottle in lunch box, which ruined my entire meal.
It was never ending one after another. But just as fast as a new thing went wrong Melissa was there to fix it.
Unblocked the printer.
Sent me the folder with an extra copy of my files she kept on her computer just in case.
Fresh coffee from the eco friendly local café on the corner.
Lunch on her.
On any other day she was my goddess but today she felt like a god send.
By the time parent teacher conference were winding down I was growing very ready to be home with her. I had one more parent and then it was home. And gods above was the worst saved for last.
“Mrs.Criller! So lovely to see you again! I hope you had a lovely day!” I stood up from my seat smiling arm extended to shake hers.
“Wish I could say the same, but after a long day of work I’d much rather be home trying to relax.” She ignored my hand and sat down. Embarrassed I did the same.
I’d only had the joys of communicating with Mrs.Criller through email, meeting her one other time,only, during the children’s orientation. Her son Hudson was such a sweet boy when he didn’t feel the need to lash out. He loved to be the center of attention, both good and bad, which was not only disruptive but riled the other children up. When he got angry he’d throw his chair or anything he could lift within reach and would curse like a sailor calling everyone all sorts of names. No matter what the email says, I’ll get a reply from her two days later claiming its ‘my job’ to deal with it.
“Hudson is a very bright boy! He tends to be drawn towards arts and crafts whenever he’s given a chance during free play! As we’ve talked before in previous emails, he does at times have behavioral problems at least once a day. Some days he’s easier to redirect and bring back to what we are doing. Others he’s unable to work through whatever he’s feeling and has to be seperated from the class-”
“So you’re still removing my son from the classroom when I’ve explicitly told you not to? Is his education not as important as the the other children’s?”
“Mrs.Criller that is not at all what I’m saying. When Hudson comes back to the classroom I always make time to do some one-on-one time with him to go over the material he missed. What I’m trying to say is, after multiple conversations with you we still have no better plan to go forward with helping Hudson.”
“How about you help him by doing your fucking job.” She hissed.
“Now Mrs.Criller you know how Ava feels about parents cursing in front of other children.” Melissa’s voice rang behind my shoulder and though I couldn’t see her I knew what look she was sending her now, eyes brows raised in a warning.
“Melissa this has nothing to do with you, until Hudson is in your class that is.”
“See but I find the need to make it my business when you continue to beat a dead horse. You see other teachers here along with me know what goes on with your son. Whether it’s stemming from the lack of attention from his father since he’s never home, or from his mother who’s always drunk or high, who knows. What we do know is that were all one step away from getting DHHS or CPS back on the phone again. Unless you’d like to go through the battle of attempting to prove your a good person I recommend actually working on it!” Her voice never sounded rude, if anything she sounded excited. “Now we will see you in three months at the next conference and hopefully we’ll all only have good things to say!”
With that Mrs.Criller huffed snatching her bag from the ground and storming off.
“Thank you! I mean you really didn’t have to but thank you!”I sighed letting my head fall on the table before I sat up and started packing my things.
- - - -
The ride home was uneventful but the minute we stepped inside I was all over Melissa. Leaving hot kisses and nips down her neck.
“Well I was going to ask if you were hungry but I think I’m getting my answer.” She laughed.
“Can’t help it.” I said in between kisses. “You were like a knight in shinning armor all day and now were home alone and you look so good.” She cut me off with a searing kiss.
Her hands reached for my shirt but I stopped her.
“You helped me all day. Let me help you now.” I smiled innocently before sinking to my knees earning a groan from her.
I unbuttoned her pants and slid them down her thighs. She kicked them off and I let her panties follow.
I didn’t waste any time before diving in, her hand wrapping in my hair pulling me closer.
I alternated between licking and sucking as she ground against my face.
“Fuck! That’s it right there!” She groaned using my face.
I added two fingers and her grip on my heart tightened. I groaned at the pleasurable pain and that made her his buck as she came.
I looked up at her happily as I cleaned her up before she hauled me up and into the living room across the couch.
“Melissa I’m suppose to be replaying you.” I giggled.
“You’re going to.” She husked before my pants were being tugged down.
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juunipupu · 3 months ago
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hello i hope youre having a spectacular day!!! just wanted to pop in and say that as a fat hairy trans man, your art makes me feel incredibly validated and beautiful (,: i love seeing heavier bodies painted in such a gorgeous way, it makes my heart feel so much lighter 🖤 youve also inspired me to start drawing and painting bodies like mine more often!!! thank you for everything you create 🙏🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
This makes me incredibly happy, thank you so much for leaving the message! I was just talking about this over on bsky, how I hope people who see a resemblance of themselves or a loved in my art would know that they are in fact precious and it warms my heart in return!I To me the characters I draw are the most handsome/beautiful people I can come up with in my mind, and I’m happy if that can also bring joy to other people Hope you have a great time exploring that side of your art, cheering you on to do that! I held off way too long fearing whatever beast I had made it out to be in my mind, but I’m now shamelessly just putting a feature or two of myself to each character lol it’s incredibly freeing
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coco-loco-nut · 1 year ago
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Book Club - Part 6
pairing: Lance Stroll x Reader, Grid x Reader
summary: you and lance have a talent for traumating the grid *insert emotional damage meme here*
requests open masterlist series masterlist
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It was safe to say that that you and Lance were still very much in your honeymoon phase when you got to testing. Both of you very tan from your weeks spent on the beach.
“Y/n! You surprised the world when you announced your marriage and name change, Anything you want to say about it?” One of your favorite interviewers asks you as you walk hand in hand to the paddock with Lance.
“Sure, yeah. Lance and I have been together for a long time, so getting married was just the natural next step. It was a small wedding with close friends and family. Regarding my new name, alittle over a year ago, Kimi offered to mentor me and we forged a very close bond. He is basically my father and his kids are my siblings, so with the blessing of the family I wanted to honor the relationship the best way I knew how. Racing under the Räikkönen name is such a huge honor and I can’t thank my dad and family enough for the honor,” you beam, more than happy to talk about your family.
“How did Kimi react when you told him you were taking his name both legally and when racing,” she asks, your joy infectious.
“He was so happy, I told him at the wedding, yeah. We are such a tight family, I can’t thank them enough for bringing me into their family and allowing me to take their last name. And Lance has been wonderful about it, he actually suggested hyphenating the names,” you tell her. Usually you are pretty tight lipped, but you with happily talk with her.
“Alright, onto what actually matters. How are you feeling going into testing with Red Bull?” she asks and you take a step back into your normal interview style.
“Good. I certainly miss Checo here, but the car feels good. We will see how testing goes and work from there,” Lance gives you a look that says you will be late and the journalist notices.
“Thanks for chatting, and congratulations,” she says and you nod in thanks before walking away.
“You look very hot today, Mrs Räikkönen-Stroll,” Lance says kissing the side of your head.
“Maybe so, but nothing compares to you post race,” your cheeks flame a little. Lance pulls you into a small alley between motorhomes. You are pressed against the wall as Lance kisses you, hands tangled in each other’s hair.
“OH MY GOD!” you hear Daniel shriek.
“MY EYES!” Valtteri screams. Lance quickly pulls away from you as the four of you look at each like deer in the headlights. Daniel and Valtteri quickly walk away, leaving you and Lance giggling like school kids.
The club atmosphere was off when you walked in, taking a seat beside Logan. Valtteri can’t look you in the eyes while Daniel isn’t sure whether his is proud or scarred for life.
“Fernando, I was not aware of your taste in books,” Nico says, a little flushed thinking about what they had to read.
“Yeah, a smut book? We do have innocent eyes here,” Kevin looks at you and Logan.
“Innocent?” Logan asks, a breathy laugh behind it.
“The beach scene?” Lewis suggests you all start on.
“The writing was phenomenal, the author really captured the emotions and sensations. It read so raw, so lifelike. It was one of the few times that art imitated life. She captured every intimate thought and feeling that a woman gets when she is having sex. I remember during the honeymoon when Lance and I did something similar on the private beach and wow, the author really nailed it,” you say, not quite realizing what you had just revealed to the group.
“Damn, Y/n, I didn’t realize you and Lance were freaks like that. Respect,” Daniel says, never being one to shy away from sex. Your face twists in mortification at what you unintentionally revealed. The guys look at eachother mortified as well.
You were an adult, they knew that, but in their subconscious mind you haven’t done anything more than kiss a boy. That’s how you end up following them as they storm across the paddock.
“Logan! Help me stop them,” you look at him with panic in your eyes as the group nears the Aston Martin garage.
“Hell no, this is so funny,” he says and you huff. You see the guys cornering Lance.
“YOU RUINED OUR DAUGHTER?!” Fernando yells at his teammate. You just want to sink into a corner and die, similar to how Lance appears.
“Our precious, innocent, child. What’s next? Logan has slept with a girl?” Valtteri says.
“HEY!” Logan yells in offense. The guys’ faces drain of more color.
“You too? This isn’t ok,” Kevin says and you spot Max and Lando trying not to laugh, the two of them having seen the commotion and wanted to check it out.
“I think you guys are forgetting that the three of us are consenting adults, we aren’t kids anymore,” you say softly, Logan and Lance standing by you, the latter still scared.
“Tell that to Kimi,” Nico chuckles and you groan at the mention of your dad.
“Alright, stop harassing my teammate, we have meetings,” Max breaks everyone up, leading you away.
“Thanks, Maxie,” you let out a breath of relief.
“Do I want to know?” he laughs.
“No, I don’t think so,” you return his laugh. You just hope that your book club meeting will be smoother tomorrow morning.
The next morning, you walk into the room happy and perky as usual.
“You okay, Fernando?” Logan asks when he notices Fernando on his third cup of coffee and the tiredness in his eyes.
“The hotel has thin walls. My hotel room shares a wall with Lance’s,” Fernando says, giving you a look that makes you blush in embarrassment, wishing the earth would open up and eat you whole.
“It is natural. They are young and in love, maybe we will have a baby Stroll soon,” Lewis says and your eyes light up.
“We will!” you say, quickly pulling out your phone. The older drivers hearts sink, all slightly panicking. “Oh my god, I’m not pregnant guys, we are just getting a puppy,” you laugh at their faces.
“I would like to make a motion to kick Y/n out of the book club due to the amount of emotional distress she has given the members this weekend,” Valtteri says, and your jaw drop.
“Alright alright, but you don’t understand the almost of trauma I went through having rooms that neighbored all of you during my first year here,” you point your finger at all of them.
“Motion denied,” Daniel sighs, knowing he was probably one of the main culprits.
“So, this dog?” Nico says, changing the subject.
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y/username EVERYONE MEET MY BABY!
since I’m too young to have a baby (according to the club) here is my baby holding our baby, Milo Stroll ❤️🐾🐶
logansargeant look at how big his paws are! he’s gonna be a big boy 😍
y/username his favorite uncle 🥰
danielricciardo @y/username I take offense to that
user1 y/n really had me in the first half
nicohulkenberg she had us too the first time she brought up Milo in conversation
lancestroll what a hot mama 😮‍💨
y/username nothing compared to the absolute DILF holding my sweet puppy in the picture
georgerussel MY EYES! MY INNOCENT EYES
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kaitoshimizu · 3 months ago
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Hello everyone!! I hope you're all doing well!
For the past few days, I've had an idea for a new drawing of Mychael to post here, but I haven’t been able to even sketch it out yet due to a lack of free time, haha. So, to share a bit more of my art with you, today I’ll be posting 3 drawings of Mychael with three different and amazing people!
The first drawing was a birthday gift for @hojalattta .
I actually remember sketching it inside the car that day because we were traveling pretty far away for vacation, haha. I think it was around 11 or 12 at night when I managed to finish and send the drawing just in time! From the reaction I got through chat, I think she really loved it! (´。• ᵕ •。`) ♡ 🩵
Date: January 29th
The second drawing was for an art trade with the incredible and super friendly artist, @carlnotfound !
Oh my gosh, I was so nervous and embarrassed to ask them, haha, but it was totally worth it!
They asked for a drawing of themselves and Mychael sitting together in front of a fireplace, with their head resting on Mychael’s shoulder, wrapped together in a blanket—and I accepted the challenge!
After about three days, I finished the piece!
They absolutely loved it, and honestly, it made me so happy that such an amazing artist I admire so much enjoyed something I created. ( ´;ω;` )
(Just a little note: I’m still very insecure about coloring, so I might end up posting more black-and-white sketches until I gain more confidence!)
Date: April 6th
And the third drawing is dedicated to @yamimushroom !!
Someone who’s without a doubt one of the kindest people I’ve met.
One day, while we were talking, she mentioned she had an OC—and since I absolutely love giving gifts, I immediately said, “...Could you send me your OC? I'd love to draw them for you!” And so she did!
I got straight to work on the sketch and the next day, I finished it and gave it to her with so much excitement and hope that she’d like it—and she did!! She truly cherishes it with all her heart (╥﹏╥)♡ ❤️‍🩹
Date: April 18th
Wow... it’s amazing to see how much my style has changed over just a few months! Haha.
I really hope to keep improving my art little by little—and who knows, maybe I’ll go even further than I imagine!
As a little extra, I just want to thank everyone from the bottom of my heart for the incredible support you gave my very first post (the birthday drawing for Cheea).
It’s honestly overwhelming how much love it received in such a short time.
I appreciate you all so, so much. (T﹏T) ♡
As soon as I have more time, I’ll definitely upload that new Mychael drawing I mentioned earlier!
As I always say, it might not be the best thing you’ll ever see, but I hope it can still bring a little bit of joy, haha.
Thank you so much for reading, take care, and I hope you have a wonderful day, evening, and/or night!! (づ。◕‿‿◕。)づ ✨♡
Hola a todooos!! Espero se encuentren bien! Desde hace unos días he tenido en mente un dibujo de Mychael para subir aquí pero por falta de tiempo libre no he podido ni hacer el boceto jejeje, así que para que conozcan un poco más de mi arte, aquí dejaré 3 dibujos de Mychael con 3 diferentes e increíbles personitas!
El primer dibujo fue un regalo de cumpleaños para @hojalattta , me acuerdo que incluso llegué a dibujar en el auto al justamente ese día tener que viajar desde uff, lejos! Eran vacaciones jsjsjs, recuerdo que eran aprox las 11-12 de la noche y le envié justo a tiempo su regalo que por su reacción por chat, creo que le agradó muchísimo! (´。• ᵕ •。`) ♡ 🩵
29 de Enero
El segundo dibujo lo hice para un Art trade con el increíble y muy amigable artista, @carlnotfound !! Dios, me dió tanto nervios y vergüenza pedirselo jsjsjs, pero sin dudas valió totalmente la pena hacerlo! El me había pedido un dibujo de él y Mychael sentados frente a una chimenea estando él con la cabeza inclinada hacia el hombro a Mychael envueltos ambos en una manta y yo acepté el reto! A lo cual en unos...3 días logré terminar el dibujo! Le encantó sin duda y me siento feliz de que un artista tan increíble que admiro tanto le haya gustado algo mío *Sniff Sniff* ( ´;ω;` )
(Quiero aclarar que para colorear he sido un asco, así que quizás suba más dibujos sin color por efectivamente sentirme insegura al pintar!)
6 de Abril
Y como tercer dibujo es en honor para @yamimushroom !! Personita que sin duda es una de las mejores que he conocido. Un día estábamos ella y yo hablando con calma y me menciono que tenía un oc, a lo cual yo, amante de dar regalos a los demás, decidí decirle: "...me podrías pasar tu oc? Te dibujare!" Y eso hizo, a lo cual inmediatamente me puse manos a la obra con él boceto para al día siguiente continuar sin duda para que al terminar, le entregué el dibujo con muchísima emoción y esperanza de que sea de su agrado y sin duda lo fué, lo aprecia con todo su corazón (╥﹏╥)♡
18 de abril
Wow...es Increíble lo mucho que ha cambiado mi estilo con el tiempo, y eso que tan solo fueron meses! Jajaja, espero poder seguir mejorando en el tema del dibujo y quien sabe, llegué a más de lo que me imagino
Como extra me gustaría agradecer de todo corazón al apoyo que le han dado a mi primer post con el dibujo de Cheea, es impactante el inmenso apoyo que le han dado en tan poco tiempo, waaa, los aprecio muchísimooo (T﹏T) ♡ ❤️‍🩹
Apenas pueda y tenga tiempo, subiré ese dibujo de Mychael que les menciono! Cómo siempre digo, no será lo mejor del mundo que podrían ver, pero supongo que algo es algo jejeje
Muchísimas gracias por leer, cuídate y espero tengas un excelente día, tarde y/o noche!! (づ。◕‿‿◕。)づ ✨♡
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lawnchairthethird · 1 month ago
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Apparently, I've been writing DBZ fic for TWO FREAKING YEARS. I was talking to someone about one of my fics, and I happened to notice the original published date was 6/28/23 and I had an emotion about it.
This has been the sweetest, most accepting fandom and I have made lifelong friends and even had the privilege of meeting a few of them in the real world.
I forgot how much I genuinely enjoy writing for a few years, and DBZ turned me into the majin lawnchair writing machine.
I've written 494,955 words in two years. That feels....a little crazy, but it's been my catharsis through some really stressful times.
I can't believe how many people have read my little baby fic from when I just got started and it makes me cry (and also cringe a little because my writing has changed so much since then), but I'm super thankful.
illicit affairs is my child and I am so glad others have enjoyed it, too. It is a universe I will probably NEVER stop finding bits and pieces to add to.
And then I really wanted to write a scene where Vegeta was tortured and I accidentally started what is now become some kind of novel length thing with King of Nothing
But yeah- all of this to say, I would never have gotten off the ground if it wasn't for all of the support I received. @maze-zen reached out to me and beta read for me for my first series of fics, and I will be forever grateful to her. She is seriously like the glue of this fandom.
@serenityhime1, @astronautmike-dexter, @mawrblaidddrwg, @frandafwen, and @astral-mariner have let me drop into their DMs fucking countless amounts of times to bounce ideas, talk me off ledges, help me remember words when my brain gives up, or just be genuinely good, supportive human beings.
@ninjaphile, @danizinhaut, @mawrblaidddrwg, and @bloodpatternblue DREW FUCKING ART FOR ME THAT MADE ME SCREAM AND CRY AND THROW-UP WITH JOY.
And then there are so many other people that the fandom would not be the same without. Whether it's through the amazing content you've created, the good conversatins, or just the vibe you bring in general.
@ronnieartistry, @galexibrain, @getasgirl-x, @rozzingit, @iamakynge, @twenty--one--violets
I know there are probably a million other people I forgot. But yeah. I appreciate you, too!
You guys rock :)
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leonalovesalot · 2 months ago
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Hopin' you would come through I
ArtDonaldson x Reader
In which Art has feelings for Patrick’s girlfriend.
wc: 2.4k
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Art had been running around town, picking up snacks and drinks for his party. It had been in the works for a while, but some things were left to the very last minute because his finals had taken up all his time. But now that they were over, Art took it upon himself to throw a party, celebrating the end of the semester. He'd never done it before but seeing as his parents were out of town, it seemed like the perfect time.
So he sent out texts inviting his friends on the team, and they forwarded his message to more people. Soon, it seemed like everyone knew about it and now Art was buying almost two hundred dollars worth of chips and soda.
It would be worth it though, because you would come.
Well, maybe.
Earlier this week, Art caught up with you after the last day of classes. You were in a rush heading to the library because you'd somehow managed to reserve a study room. You told him about it excitedly as you speed-walked next to him.
"No, that's impressive," Art says, out of breath beside you.
"I know right." You exclaim and quickly climb the stairs, "I mean, during my three years in this school, I have not once booked a room! Today's my lucky day."
Art chuckles at your words, amused by how the smallest things could bring you so much joy.
"Yeah maybe." His calf was about to cramp so he reaches out and wraps his hand around your wrist, bringing you to a halt. Art stands still and catches his breath, "one second. Need- I need to talk to you."
You stop and furrow your brows at him. You were a little impatient, but stood there with him anyway because, well, you liked him. He was sweet, and a friend of Patrick's is a friend of yours.
He stands up straight and looks down at you, hand now loosely around your wrist. "I'm- uhm- I'm having a party on the 29th, at my house. You know? Last day of finals... I thought it would be fun to celebrate."
You nod, "oh, that's cool." You swallow, and look to the side at the entrance of the library. Truth be told, parties were not your scene. To add onto that, your last exam was literally on the 29th and your plan was just to go home and sleep afterwards. "Well, have fun," you turn to leave.
Art's eyes widen and he tightens his grip around your wrist and pulls you back. "Hey- no, wait. I want you to come. That was me... inviting you." He rubs the back of his neck, slightly nervous.
"Oh, right." You mull it over for a few seconds and respond, "thank you for the invite. Really. But, I think I'll be kind of tired and besides, Patrick and I are going to video call that night." The thought of Patrick made you smile softly. It had been weeks since you'd had a proper conversation so this plan to chat on the 29th was a big deal for you. "It's been a while so," you rock on the balls of your feet.
You didn't notice that Art's smile faded at the mention of his best friend—your boyfriend. He drops his hand from your wrist, and stuffs it in his pocket. He felt pathetic because obviously you'd want to spend time with Patrick. Even though Art was the one who kept you company while he was away. Art was the one who'd join you in the dining hall and listen to you vent your stress. Art was the one who drove you home for easter weekend because your car was in the shop. Not Patrick.
He sighs a little disappointed, "well, if you find the time... you should definitely stop by."
You nod and respond with an, "of course," and scurry off.
Art stood before his living room and stared at all the photos on the wall. Baby pictures of him, a picture of his family on a vacation they took to Hawaii, and medals he won throughout his life. A picture of him and Patrick caught his eye, which made guilt creep inside him. Being in love with Patrick's girlfriend was just crazy. How could he? He'd even been avoiding his calls and barely responding to texts because of how awful he felt. To top it off, he lied to you. Feeding you bullshit about he's throwing the party to celebrate summer break? No. Nope.
He was throwing it for you.
He wanted to hang out with you in a casual setting, and he couldn't just ask you to come over alone. You would be suspicious. So he thinks of this party idea to get you over. The two of you could drink and dance and loosen up. He could distract you from the difficulties and loneliness of a long distance relationship. He just wanted to see you smile, and be the reason for it.
But seeing as how you probably wouldn't come, it may have been a waste of time.
Art snaps out of his thoughts and takes a few pictures down from the wall — the slightly embarrassing ones he didn’t want strangers to see.
He goes on to lay out the snacks and drinks on the kitchen island. Pulling out his phone, he plays the playlist he made specifically for this party (adding a few of your favourite songs here and there so that maybe they would play and you'd turn to him wide eyed and point up and say "oh my god, I love this song" and he'd act surprised then ask you to dance).
Soon, the guests began arriving. Guys from his team came in and hugged him, introducing him to their girlfriends. Their girlfriends had brought their own friends, and those friends brought others. Soon enough, the house was packed and people had completely let loose. The music blasted and the drinks were flowing. Everyone danced freely.
Art, on the other hand was miserable. He knew you had that call with Patrick, but a small part of him fantasized that you'd drop it for him. You'd slam the laptop shut and show up at his door. He'd stare at you in surprise and you'd say something about how it felt wrong to turn him down. If only life were that great.
If only he’d somehow met you first.
A few hours had passed and it was nearing eleven pm. The party was reaching its peak and the amount of people had somehow doubled. Random strangers came up to Art and dapped him up “for such a sick party, bro.”
Their words meant little, though, because he was distracted—hoping you might show up.
He oscillated from room to room like a good host, making sure everyone was having fun. The living room was where people danced. The kitchen had people mixing drinks and playing beer pong. The backyard had a few people skinny dipping.
He was just on his way up from the basement, after getting pulled into a pretty steamy game of never have I ever, when he saw you.
It felt like time had stopped. The crowds of people surrounding him—and you—were moving in slow motion. The music still blasted, but somehow, it sounded faint.
There you were.
You came.
You were at the top of his staircase staring down at Art, who stood right at the bottom. Your eyes locked and you shot him your signature sweet smile that always made his heart ache with a longing feeling he’d become so used to.
He noticed you had begun making your way down and it felt like there was a spotlight following your every step. You were an angel descending from heaven.
His own feet brought him forward until he reached you. He couldn’t help but wrap his arms around you. He was so fucking glad you came.
You were slightly taken aback by his hug, but reciprocated with your arms around his waist. It felt nice. To be held like this. Long distance was hard and you just missed the warmth of another body.
You pull away first and Art reluctantly lets go. He stands with hands in his pocket and the widest smile you've seen on him.
"You came. I- this is so unexpected." He leans against the wooden railing of the stairs. He wanted to seem nonchalant but after the hug, he felt too fuzzy inside and couldn't stop grinning.
You nod and look around at the amount of people at his house. The energy of college kids after finals was just something else.
Looking back at Art, you say, "I know! I- I love your house." You didn't understand why you said that, but you couldn't really think with the loud music.
"Thanks," he says, leaning in and chuckling. "I thought you had plans, though."
You nod again and stand on your tip toes to get closer to him. You noticed he smelled good. A mix of cologne and sweat.
"Patrick and I were going to Skype but," you respond woefully, "I think he was asleep, or something, because he didn't pick up." You purse your lips.
Art pulled back to take in your face and saw that you looked upset. He wanted to make you feel better—to swoop in like a knight in shining armour and offer you comfort—but all that came out was, "Oh… wow."
You quirk a brow at him, "hm?"
"I—sorry, I—I mean, he missed out. You… you look beautiful." He was speaking quieter, afraid that you'd hear what he said, but also wanting you to at the same time.
His out-of-the-blue compliment should've made you slightly skeptical, but instead, you blushed. Your head tilted down to look at your outfit. It was nothing special—jeans and a sweater—and yet, he called you beautiful.
"Thank you, Art." Your gaze meets his and it feels like everything was in slow motion again.
His face was beginning to feel hot so he clears his throat and breaks the eye contact. "So, you want a tour of the place?"
The two of you were in his bedroom, and he paced around it, explaining every little trinket on his shelf and every poster on his wall.
You sat on the edge of his bed and your eyes followed him, twinkling. It was exciting to see this side of Art. He was... precious.
“—and this is a picture—I don’t know why I still have it up—of my emo phase back when I was thirteen.” He hands you a small framed photo of himself in eyeliner, looking away from the camera like he was mad at the world.
You snort and grab it from him, giggling at the photo. "No! No way! Oh my god, you're so little! Look at that eyeliner!"
"It was my Mom's. She was pissed because I ruined it." He chuckles and stares at you thinking that he never wanted to look away.
"I bet!" You laugh, "what brought this on? Who broke little Arthur's heart?"
"My first girlfriend, actually." Art crosses the room and sits on bed, a few feet away.
“Aw,” you drag out, pouting.
“Yeah, she, uh... she moved schools and started dating this other guy. I still remember the day she broke up with me. Over text,” Art emphasizes.
You gasp dramatically. “No! Ugh, no manners.”
He exaggerated his sigh. “Yeah, well. Young love can be tragic.”
You tsk and shake your head.
Art was enamoured with you. It seemed like his admiration was reaching its peak tonight— having you in his bedroom, talking to him like you were his. Like you had given your heart to only one man, and that man wasn’t Patrick, but Art.
But that feeling began to sting when your phone buzzed, and you had no problem breaking away from the conversation to check it.
Your brows furrow as you pull your phone out of your pocket. There’s a missed call from Patrick, along with two texts apologizing that he accidentally fell asleep but is free now.
You're up on your feet in an instant and Art's smile drops. He stands up next you waiting for your next move.
"I hate to cut this short," you smile apologetically, "but I think Patrick's up so... I think I'll get going."
The first thing on Art’s mind falls out of his mouth. “What? No.” He places a hand on your forearm, like he’s ready to physically keep you from leaving. “You just got here—”
“Art…” you begin in a contrite tone.
He cuts you off, "You haven’t even tried the karaoke machine! I bought it especially—you were literally talking about how much fun you had last week doing karaoke with your friends and I got it for—"
"I’m sorry. I really am. But you know how it is— our schedules haven't matched up and we haven’t spent time together in so long—"
You try to explain politely but Art wasn't budging.
"But you're not, really." He blurts.
You tilt your head in confusion, "what?"
He couldn't backtrack now.
“It’s—you’re—you guys are video calling. He’s on the screen, Y/N. I—I’m right here!” His voice cracks, and he can’t believe how emotional he’s getting.
Your lips part in surprise. "It's all I have right now." Your words come out laced with sadness.
Art's hand slides down your arm and holds onto your hand.
"You say that but it's not true, Y/N. You have me too."
"Art... you're misunderstanding me. I— you’re a good friend but you—"
God, you were so oblivious sometimes.
"What? I'm not Patrick?" He spits the words bitterly. Because these days he wishes he was. Then he'd have the luxury of bathing in your love every second of every day.
"Well... yeah." You mutter.
Art wasn't thinking clearly anymore. "I can be. I can be more to you."
You exhale and force a polite smile, "Art, you don’t have to be… you’re great as you are. Please, just enjoy your party. I—I… I'm glad your semester went well." You gently pull your hand out of his grasp.
You were chipping away at his heart and didn't even know it.
He sighs, frustrated, and chokes out, "that’s not—that’s not what this was all for!"
Almost out the door, you stop and turn your head to look at him again.
"What?"
Art's bottom lip quivered and his throat felt like it was closing up.
"It was for you. I—I wanted to impress you." He shakes his head and looks down, too scared to face you, "I wanted you to forget about him for a while."
There was a heavy silence and it had Art regretting his confession.
He hesitantly lifted his head to see your reaction, only to see that you'd left.
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RIP Skype
I hope you enjoyed this! I wrote it impulsively while procrastinating.
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smoshyourheadin · 1 year ago
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some comfort soencer agnew :(
It’s okay, you can cry now.
pairing: spencer agnew x fem!reader
a/n: OH WE’RE SO BACK SMOSHYOURHEADIN NATION!! i’ve missed y’all sooo much!!! kinda short but enjoy none the less 🫶 requests are open <3
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as you lay on his bed, the sound of raindrops tap against the windows gently as you feel a tear roll down your cheek. his room is softly lit by the glow of the tv which is playing some shitty reality show, with plush blankets and pillows on his bed.
spencer and you met when your friend damien had invited you to be a guest speaker at his ‘funeral’ - where spencer made your sides hurt with how funny he was. from the moment you met him, there was an undeniable chemistry between you. over time, you and spencer started hanging out more, texting and calling, meeting up for coffee before he had to go to work, and you’d also started to convince damien to invite on the channel more often, as an excuse to see him - ian and anthony eventually hiring you to work on art and design.
despite the growing closeness, neither of you ever explicitly acknowledged the romantic tension that occasionally surfaced. your friendship had a mix of intimacy and comfort that neither of you wanted to jeopardize by labeling it. you were each other's confidants, sharing dreams, fears, and everything inbetween.
“hey there, y’okay?” spencer’s voice breaks you from your thoughts, as he walks into his room with two cans of sprite, seeing you blink away tears.
“um, yeah. no. i don’t know” you sit up and wipe your face, sniffling gently, and you cross your legs as he sits to face you on the end of his bed, your knees touching his.
“d’you wanna talk about anything?” he looks into your eyes, gaze soft but firm somehow.
“um,” you look away as you feel more tears forming, a lump creeping into your throat “i just... feel like i'm constantly running, trying to keep up with everything. the videos, the comments, the expectations. it's like... it's never enough, you know?"
spencer nods, his hand moving to rest atop yours. "i get it. this world can be overwhelming. but you don't have to face it alone. we're a team, remember?"
you squeeze his hand, finding a bit of strength in his touch. "i know, it's just... sometimes i feel like i'm letting everyone down. like i'm not good enough."
his eyes soften even more, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache in a good way.
"you're more than enough. you bring so much joy and creativity to everything you do. and it's okay to feel overwhelmed. it doesn't mean you're failing."
you take a shaky breath, feeling the weight of his words. "i guess i just need to hear that sometimes. that it's okay to not be perfect."
spencer shifts closer, his other hand cupping your cheek, thumb gently brushing away a stray tear. "no one expects you to be perfect. especially not me. i just want you to be you. because that's more than enough."
his words break something loose inside you, and the tears start to flow freely. spencer pulls you into a gentle hug, holding you as you let out all the pent-up emotions. his embrace is warm and reassuring, a safe haven from the storm raging inside you. you inhale deeply, and notice he smells like old books and coffee,
��it’s okay, you can cry now” he says into you hair as you sob, his fingers gently brushing through you hair
after a while, you pull back slightly, looking up at him with gratitude. "thank you, spencer. for being here, for understanding."
he smiles, a small, comforting smile. "always. you mean a lot to me, y’know that?"
you nod, a small smile of your own forming. "you mean a lot to me too, spence."
he takes a deep breath, and for a moment, you see something flicker in his eyes.
you move yourself next to him, and lay your head on his shoulder, and he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, as you close your eyes, feeling content in the moment. the sound of the rain, the flickering light of the tv, and the steady beat of his heart lull you into a sense of calm.
and in that quiet moment, with the rain still pattering against the windows, you know that no matter what the future holds, you'll face it together.
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regency-monster-love · 4 months ago
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Grumpy orc and sunshine human, part 9
Male orc x female human | Regency era | SFW but references to sex
Master list for this fic
~ 😈🎩 ~
“Esther!” Garek stood out of the way to let her enter his house. “Why are you here?”
“I’ve heard so much about your pets, I wanted to meet them. Especially the kittens. Ah! And here’s Odin!” Garek’s dog Odin came trotting up, wagging his tail furiously at a new visitor. Esther set about petting his head and speaking to him in a silly voice. “Oh you are just as lovely as your master said you were, yes you are Odie, you sweet baby.” The dog stood as high as her waist but was wiggling and grinning at her like a besotted puppy.
Esther looked back up at Garek. “Is it all right for me to be here?”
His heart was racing at having her in his home for the first time, excited and nervous at what might happen. “Y-yes, but…my mother is here too.”
“Oh, I should love to meet her as well!” Esther exclaimed, and looked at him expectantly to lead the way.
The introduction was quickly made, Garek’s heart beating fast at how his mother would react to him bringing a young human woman into their home. But Esther was as friendly and charming as always, complimenting the room and the orcish art on the walls, and the older orc female smiled and thanked her and exchanged pleasantries right back. She didn’t seem bothered in the least.
Although, she didn’t stay visiting for long. After only a few minutes of talking, Mrs. Skrof announced that she needed to leave. “I promised Mrs. Hunter I’d call on her today; had I known you were coming, Miss Dayton, I of course would not have made a prior engagement.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all, Mrs. Skrof! I’d be happy to call again on another day that is more convenient for you.”
Mrs. Skrof nodded and stood, and Esther stood as well. “That would be lovely, dear. But don’t leave already on my account. You need to finish your cake and tea.”
She looked at her son. “I won’t be home for several hours, not until dinner time, dearest.” And then she said her goodbyes, and he and Esther were alone together in his house.
Esther gave Garek a dazzling smile. “Your mother is delightful! I’m so pleased I got to meet her.” Then she clapped her hands together. “Now the kittens!”
Garek took her into the kitchen, where the kittens still spent some of their time in a box with their mother. 
Esther bent over the box. “Oh my goodness!” she cried out, clapping her hands onto her cheeks, which Garek was completely charmed by, causing the corners of his mouth to start curving up into a smile. “Just look at how adorable they are! So small still!”
She sat right down on his rough stone kitchen floor in her fine silk dress and peered inside the box. “You are all the sweetest little creatures!” she cooed to the kittens, who were tumbling about.
She turned her face up at Garek, wearing the most bright expression of hopeful happiness. “Can I hold one?” she asked, sounding almost childlike in the purity of her excitement.
Garek’s smile broadened at her happiness. “Of course.”
He knelt down beside her as she picked up the brown tabby tom and brought it close to her face to coo at it, and somehow or other the wiggling thing ended up on her shoulders, and then on top of her head, burrowing around in her hair. She shrieked with laughter, her cheeks flushing pink in her glee, and her joy was contagious, making Garek start laughing himself. His great broad shoulders and belly shook, driving them both into even greater mirth, laughing while they sat beside each other on the kitchen floor, until their eyes were watering.
Finally Esther pulled the kitten off her head and put it back in the box. She turned her grinning face to Garek. “You laughed,” she said.
He kept smiling at her. “Yes?”
She reached up to trace her fingers across his smile and up his tusks, making him shiver. “Why?”
“Because it was funny to see the kitten on your head, and because, well, I suppose because you were laughing so heartily. It made me happy to hear it.”
“I’ve never heard you laugh before.”
He made a sound that was halfway between a snort and a chuckle. “Have you not?”
She shook her head. “Not once. Until today.” She gazed at him fondly. “I loved it.”
His eyes regarded her with just as much tenderness, and he reached out to smooth some of her kitten-mussed hair off her face, then cupped her cheeks and tilted his head to kiss her. She kissed him back, soft and sweet.
When he broke away from her mouth, he cleared his throat. “You’ve seen the kittens now. Do you wish to…leave?”
She shook her head.
His heart started thrumming. “Would you like to…come upstairs with me?” Surely that was asking too much; she would say no.
But she didn’t hesitate to tell him yes.
And she told him yes again, once they were in his bedroom and he asked if he could undress her, and himself.
Yet, once he was down to just his shirt and she was down to her chemise, the magnitude of what they were about to do hit her, and she held out a hand to stop him moving closer, and took a step back from him. “Wait.”
He froze. “You wish to go?”
She pulled her hand back to clutch it with her other in front of her chest. “I should tell you…I am not a maid. It happened only a few times, with only one man, many years ago, but…I understand if you do not wish to have me, because of this.”
Garek’s face contorted in that thunderous way of his. “Why would that make me not want to have you?”
“Because I'm not…pure.” She let out a nervous laugh. “Which was already very evident from what I’ve been doing these past weeks, but, well, this is…different.”
That seemed to make him even more furious, based on his expression. “You are the most pure, good person I've ever known. There is nothing you could do that would make me not want you.”
Her chest throbbed in relief and esteem for him, and a smile bloomed on her lips. “And I want you.”
“Then we’ll have each other,” he said firmly, and stepped into her to kiss her.
~ 😈🎩 ~
End of part 9 | Master list for this fic
This is not a fade to black, this is a to be continued…
I feel like I should point out that I don't believe in the concept of virginity that Esther was worried about here, but it applied for the time period. Luckily Garek doesn’t believe in this concept of virginity either.
Garek’s mom lives with him because she’s a widow and he’s a good boy who loves and takes care of his mama. This was what good sons did in the Regency period, if they didn’t have the means or inclination to provide a separate house just for their mom to live in. Fortunately, Garek’s mom clearly knows how to stay out of the way when necessary…
Read all of my Regency monster ficlets and snippets at the tag #my writing or my master list.
Taglist: @apuddleonthelivingroomfloor, @slightly-knot-insane, @99goosebumps, @decaffeinatedtreewitch, @curiousmons, @cinnabbxx, @dreamerl0v3, @iamsamuraisword, @flippinsweettots, @not-nana-ly, @eclaire-and-pocky, @iluvzayne, @blushycadaver, @vurelliex, @graveblanketgreen (comment if you want to be added to the list)
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justporo · 2 years ago
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Do you have any headcanons on what Astarion and Tav's home would look like? :)
You bet, I do! But I put some more thought into it over the day so may I present you with:
Domestic headcanons about what Tav's and Astarion's home in Baldur's Gate would look like
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After your adventures and some looting of certain castles you go to buy a small but luxurious townhouse in the Upper City of Baldur's Gate - probably criminally under its actual worth but you two are just so convincing, aren't you?
Dark wooden floors, high windows (with thick brocade curtains of course), wrought-iron balcony and fence - it's giving gothic and dark academia but in a homey and warm way
Soft lighting everywhere, lots of candles and candelabra, a fire place of course and oil lanterns that make every room feel warm and cozy
Astarion has impeccable taste and enjoys a bit of decadence (of course) and really finds joy in picking out furniture and decorations - he's going for noble, rich, palace-y, posh vibes, but tasteful
Also Tav would stop him from going overboard - she's not used to all the pompous stuff and cares more about the pracitcality of it all; also she's definitely the one who brings in some plants and greenery; also some nice stuff for Scratch because I'm sure Tav would insist on being the one to keep him
When Tav says she'd rather likes it simple tho... "Simple, love? Everyone can have simple, but not just anyone can have beautiful!" "So... you are not denying that beautiful means more complicated?" "No, but isn't that also why you chose me after all? Because I'm intricately complicated and incredibly beautiful?" Can't argue with that logic
Tav's also focused on making it cozy though and especially creating comfy little corners where they can just lounge together: like a little alcove to sit and read or look out the window or some pillows on the wood floor so you can sit in front of the fire place
There's a chaise-longue somewhere in the house - maybe in the incredibly over-sized dressing room, so Astarion can lay on it and watch Tav dress
DEFINITELY NO MIRRORS - no need to remind Astarion of that particular part of his condition; also why would he need it if you can tell him how beautiful he is everyday?
There's also a piano (as we have learnt before *wink*) and lots of books and trinkets and artworks - Astarion likes all stuff having to do with arts
It might be messy, at least at the beginning, you're both not used to having and holding onto stuff, also Astarion's desperately trying to find himself - that comes with creative chaos
Is there even a need to mention the bed is huge? And also has very much cliché dark red silk sheets? But it's probably the piece of furniture where you spend the most of your nights, not only for mingeling but just sitting and laying there, reading, drawing, talking, teasing each other
Also at some point you'd probably get a joint portrait but you don't want it to be too stiff and regal rather wanting it to show how much joy you give each other
The kitchen is to spoil Tav: when Astarion finds out you enjoy cooking and are pretty skilled at it he gets you all the best equipment he can find - even though you don't know how to use half of it - yet
Oof, I could maybe keep going some more... Thanks for the message, it was fun to think about this. (Also I know I might be swinging between medieval and more victorian vibes but hush, it's a fictional world where everything is possible) Also I knew I wouldn't yet do requests - but really that was just me putting something out there I already thought about. And I'll do some requests soon!
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