#anyways. she is so small and so loud and so perfect

[rafecameronssl4t]

Can you do more of reader x rafe that involve Sofia.

Calm down || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

gif by @tetragonia

Summary: basically based off this scene in s4 ep 2 but ofc including reader

Warnings: none rlly!!

Word count: 1,986

MASTERLIST

The music was too loud, the air was too thick, and the vodka in your cup wasn’t nearly strong enough to make any of this bearable. “So… how have you and him been?” Ruthie asked, her tone loaded despite the way she lazily twirled the straw in her drink.

You rolled your eyes, already annoyed at the direction this conversation was heading. “Rafe and I?” you echoed, lifting your glass and swirling the half-melted ice like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Haven’t talked to him since that bonfire a month ago.”

Your voice was clipped, tone dismissive, but Ruthie was looking at you too closely. The kind of look only a friend who’s seen you at your worst would know how to give. You hated it. “I’m just so over it,” you added quickly, hoping it sounded convincing.

“Can’t believe he stooped that low,” she muttered, snorting into her drink. “A pogue, seriously?” You didn’t answer, but your jaw tensed slightly. You gave a loose shrug, feigning indifference. Like it didn’t burn every time you heard his name. Like you didn’t still dream about that night—his hands, his mouth, the way he said your name like it meant something.

The sound of laughter and shouting swelled around you, and you looked up just in time to see Topper sink a perfect shot into the last cup on the beer pong table. His friends exploded in cheers. “Let’s go, baby!” Topper bellowed, arms thrown up in drunken victory.

Ruthie squealed and immediately threw her arms around her boyfriend in exaggerated celebration “Oh man,” Topper slurred as he staggered over to the two of you, a goofy grin plastered on his flushed face. “It’s just a little harmless celebration, right?” You couldn’t help but laugh at how absolutely wrecked he already was.

“Oh, absolutely. You need another beer.” Topper laughed, leaning heavily against you. He slung an arm around your shoulder, the scent of cologne and whatever he spilled on himself earlier clinging to his shirt. “You know me so well, Y/n. Fuck, I love you.”

You rolled your eyes but let him kiss your head anyway, playing along like always. Ruthie giggled beside you, probably just as tipsy but much better at hiding it. Then—“Hey!” The loud voice cut through the buzz of conversation, music, and drunken laughter. You turned instinctively, and your entire body went stiff.

Rafe. Making his way toward the group with that same confident swagger like he owned the place. Your stomach dropped. “Yeah, my brother!” Topper hollered, practically leaping forward as the two of them pulled each other into a half-hug, half-clap-on-the-back. “There he is! How are you, baby?”

Rafe actually lifted Topper slightly off the ground before setting him down again, both of them laughing like this was any other night. Like everything was normal. You fought the eye-roll threatening to escape and instead focused on sipping your drink. Then Ruthie nudged you sharply.

You glanced at her and followed her gaze. Sofia. Standing just a few feet behind Rafe. Hair perfectly curled, but her posture stiff—like she knew she didn’t belong but was pretending otherwise. Her eyes darted around the crowd before finally landing on you. She gave you a small, awkward smile.

You stared for a second too long before mustering the fakest smile you could manage and looking away. Arms crossing tightly over your chest. “Of course she’s here,” you muttered under your breath, venom lacing every word. Ruthie raised her brows and leaned in. “I swear she follows him around like a lost puppy.”

You didn’t respond, because when you glanced back at Rafe—he was already looking at you. The smirk was gone now. No bravado, no cockiness. Just that unreadable look he’d perfected. The one that made you wonder if he regretted everything… or nothing at all. “Hey,” he said quietly.

And that was enough to make you snap out of it. Without acknowledging him, you picked up your drink, turned on your heel, and walked away. “Wait,” Ruthie called, rushing to follow you. You didn’t stop. You didn’t want to deal with him. Not tonight. Not with Sofia hovering awkwardly in the background like some replacement you never agreed to.

He knew it pissed you off—seeing them together, acting like what the two of you had wasn’t even worth protecting. And the worst part? He brought her anyway. You made it to the bar, needing something stronger than the half-warm cocktail melting in your cup. You pushed your way through the cluster of sweaty Kooks and grabbed a beer from the tub of ice, popping it open with a sigh. Ruthie stood next to you, her eyes scanning the crowd with laser focus.

“God,” she muttered, leaning against the bar as she sipped her drink, “she stands out like a sore fucking thumb.” You followed her gaze. Sofia. She was lingering near Rafe, too close for comfort but still visibly uncomfortable. Her posture was tense, her smile unsure. She looked like she was trying to blend in, but everything about her screamed not from here.

You took a sip of your beer, eyes narrowing. “Yeah,” you muttered. “Wait—wait. Do you think he pays her to hang around?” Ruthie whispered, mischief dancing in her voice. But before you could even laugh, a sharp voice sliced through the bass-heavy music. “What did you say?” You both stopped. Looked up. The tone was unmistakable.

Rafe. He was standing near the entrance, voice raised, jaw locked, shoulders squared. Your chest tightened. “You got something to say?” He was talking to someone now—a girl who looked vaguely familiar. Local. Not a regular. Maybe a plus-one of a plus-one. Whatever he was, he clearly hadn’t learned one of the unspoken rules of Figure Eight: Don’t talk shit where Rafe Cameron can hear you.

“Hey, listen, if you want to say—” “Back off, Rafe!” The guy close by shoved him. Ruthie slapped her hand to her mouth. Your beer paused mid-sip. “Holy shit,” she gasped. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. Just shook your head slowly. “Typical. Always picking a fight.” You took another swig as Rafe’s voice rose, chest heaving as he advanced.

“If you wanna whisper some bullshit behind my back, why don’t you say it to my face? I’m standing right here.” He stepped forward again, pointing aggressively. Topper lunged in, grabbing him by the shoulder with a grunt. “Rafe, chill, dude—” “You got something to say? Say it to my fucking face!” Rafe barked again, leaning in, slapping his own cheek like some unhinged invitation.

You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly got stuck. “Here come the theatrics.” Topper finally got a better grip, dragging him back slightly. Sofia hovered awkwardly nearby. Her face was blank, expression unreadable. When Rafe stumbled back, she stepped in and helped Topper steady him.

She said something to him—probably trying to calm him down—but you couldn’t hear over the shouting. Then, as if the chaos couldn’t escalate further, Rafe’s voice boomed again. “He was a great man!” You blinked. “Jesus Christ,” you muttered, rubbing your temple. “He’s spiralling,” Ruthie said, half in awe.

Before you could agree, the clatter of bottles jolted you. You turned just in time to see Rafe storming toward the bar—your bar. “Hey,” Sofia said behind him, her hand catching his arm, gentle. “Don’t listen to them,” she murmured. You weren’t even trying to eavesdrop. Not really. He wasn’t exactly being discreet.

“Don’t listen to them? Don’t listen to them?” he echoed bitterly. “Kind of hard when they do it in front of me. I mean, I expect that shit from the Cut—but not here.” You exchanged a quick look with Ruthie. There it was. The line.You could practically see it hit Sofia in real time—the flicker of something breaking in her face.

She recovered quickly, but not before you caught the sting in her eyes. “Shit,” Ruthie whispered. “He doesn’t even realise he just insulted her.” Topper reappeared like a storm-drenched lifeguard. “What is this bullshit, man?” Rafe asked, exasperated. “Who do you have at your party?” Rafe shook his head like a wet dog, pacing, seething.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m just—getting a drink.” And that’s when it happened. As he turned, his eyes found you. Locked. He didn’t smirk. Didn’t look smug. Just stared. Something unreadable flickering beneath all the anger—something dangerous. You raised your brows but didn’t flinch. Didn’t smile.

Just took a slow sip of your beer, eyes never leaving his. Almost daring him to say something. He walked right past, close enough for your shoulders to nearly brush. Then Sofia stepped forward. Still lingering behind like she didn’t know where else to go. Her movements were stiff.

And when she looked up, her gaze met yours. It wasn’t awkward this time. It was deliberate. You stood there, holding her stare, bottle in hand. And then—Sofia started walking toward you. Ruthie leaned in, voice low. “Oh my god. Don’t tell me she’s about to start something.”

She stood beside you, just barely within arm’s reach, her presence cutting into the thick air around the bar like a cold gust through summer heat. You didn’t look at her at first—not until she said something. Not until she spoke. “How did you do it?” You paused mid-sip, the neck of the beer bottle still against your lips.

Slowly, you lowered it and turned your head, brows furrowing as your eyes met hers. “Do what?” you asked, voice even but laced with confusion. Sofia’s eyes didn’t move from Rafe—still visible a few feet away, his shoulders tense as he paced near the cooler, Topper doing damage control.

“Calm him down,” she replied, quiet but clear, the weight of the question hanging between you like smoke. You let out a short, disbelieving laugh through your nose. A snort, really. You and Ruthie turned to each other instinctively—your best friend’s eyes wide, eyebrows raised, lips twitching in amused disbelief like is she for real?

Was she seriously asking that? You blinked, looked back at Sofia. She was still watching Rafe like he was a ticking bomb she hadn’t figured out how to disarm. Like you were the only one who ever knew where the wires connected. “You think I knew how to calm him down?” you said, the edge creeping into your voice now.

“He’s Rafe, Sofia. No one calms him down. He decides when he wants to stop.” Her brows pulled together, and for a second, you saw something real flash across her face—something like defeat. Or maybe just realisation. Maybe she thought there was some secret you had. A trick. A formula. But there wasn’t. There never had been.

“It didn’t look like that when you were with him,” she said quietly, eyes dropping to her drink. You exhaled sharply, leaning one arm on the bar, facing her now. “Yeah, well,” you said, “that’s because he and I are alike.” Sofia blinked. Hard. And in that second, you almost felt bad for her.

Almost. But then Ruthie spoke, cutting through the tension with her usual bluntness. “He’s not a project you get to fix, babe. Trust me, she tried.” You didn’t correct her. Sofia stared at the condensation sliding down her glass. “He said he was different with you,” she murmured.

“He was,” you answered simply. “But he fucked it up so there’s that.” And for a moment, the silence between the three of you felt heavier than the party around you. The laughter, the music, the clinking bottles—all of it felt far away. Sofia nodded once, almost like a thank you—but more like a quiet resignation.

Then she turned, walking back toward where Rafe stood—his jaw still clenched, eyes wild, not looking at her. Not looking at anyone. Ruthie sighed beside you. “Well, that wasn’t awkward at all.”You took another swig of your beer, finally letting yourself breathe again.“Nope,” you muttered. “Just another night in paradise.”

[holdmytesseract]

love isn't random, we are chosen

Daryl Dixon x nun!Reader

Summary: When Daryl Dixon enters your life, you experience a feeling you hadn't felt since dedicating your life to God: love. Unfortunately, it is not everybody at the Nest happy with your connection to the American - and suddenly your love is turned into a weapon...

Warnings: usual TWD stuff, possible spin-off spoilers, violence, injuries, mentions of torture, blood, swear words, talks about God, faith, the oath, etc, fluff, small steamy moment(s)? lots of dialogue?

Set in Season 2 of the spin-off!

Word Count: 6,8k

a/n: I love spin-off Daryl with all my heart. There are way too less fics out there for him, so I have to change that. A huge thanks and shout-out goes to @fictive-sl0th ! She's my French translator. Without her, this fic would be so much more difficult to write. Thank you so much, my lovely friend.

Also, I wanna add that I'm no nun, so I don't have real knowledge about this. Please go easy on me. I wrote what felt, uh, right. ☺️

Disclaimer: There are two sentences that Daryl says, which aren't mine. It's just there to fit the plot.

The title is a line from this song - which inspired me a lot...

EoH Masterlist °☆• LITRM Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

But then Isabelle brought this hurt man, and suddenly throwing over your whole life. One moment, everything was normal, and the next you stood in the blood of your fellow nuns. He had thrown everything off balance... Your life, your faith, your worldview - and your feelings as well.

You didn't hear a single word Losang said. After the first sentence, you found yourself spacing out. And quite frankly, you didn't care - as hard as it sounded. Your mind was way too occupied with other things. Well... One thing. No, not a thing, to be precise... One man. Daryl Dixon - a brave, strong lone wolf who had so suddenly crashed into your life. Into all of your lives.

Life at the abbey had been almost picture perfect. The safety it had provided. Fields with crops and vegetables to eat. Occasionally, some of the dead ones found their way to your doors, yes, but beside that it was peaceful. Quiet. With the hope living through Laurent.

Infatuation... Something you had lastly felt in your teenage years before you had decided to dedicate your life to God and the church - and yet you instantly recognized the feeling. The butterflies in your stomach. The way your heart sped up whenever you had looked at the man. It was unmistakable. You knew you shouldn't. You knew it was most likely foolish to fall for a stranger you had known for only a few weeks or months, but you also knew that you were powerless. You couldn't control your heart. You couldn't control if and with whom it fell in love. Love is something that just happens.

You sighed. It was too late now anyways. Daryl was gone; on his way back home to America. You were never going to see him again - and the realization of that made your heart ache.

The loud, heart shattering gasp of Sylvie sitting beside you was the thing that brought your mind back from wandering off. Your head instantly turned to look at her; finding an overwhelming sadness and worry displayed on her face. "Quoi? C'est quoi? Que s'est-il passé? (What? What is it? What happened?)" You asked; instinctively reaching for the younger woman's hands. Isabelle had her hand on Sylvie's shoulder; giving you a questioning look. "Emile..." Sylvie started, her voice quivering. "Ils l'ont eu... (They got Emile...)"

"Patience won't work. If Genet can't get anythin' from them, she'll just kill 'em."

Your heart clenched for the young woman. You knew that she loved Emile. In fact, it was the first time she experienced love. To see her like this broke your heart, 'cause you knew how it felt. You felt the same.

Words of comfort were already on the tip of your tongue, but before you were able to speak them, another voice cut through the air.

You knew that voice. In a crowd of hundreds of people, you'd recognize that voice. His voice. Quickly turning in your chair, your gaze fell on the door. On him - and your heart almost stopped; eyes widening. "Daryl..." You panted; breath catching in your throat. He was back. He did not leave. He was here.

Before you were able to react and stop it, your feelings had taken over the control of your body. You couldn't think clearly anymore. All you saw was him. "Daryl!" You called out again - this time a little louder, as you sprung up to your feet; legs working on their own will to carry you over to the man at a fast pace. "Daryl..." You repeated his name again and threw your hands around his neck to hug the archer. The man grunted in return; didn't see this coming. He was hesitant at first, but then he hugged you back.

Gasps erupted throughout the crowd; followed by whispers and shocked faces. What were you doing? What had gotten into you?

The huge crowded room had become quiet around you. Everybody was watching the scenes unfold in front of their eyes, until-

You pulled back from the hug; the rational part of your brain still out like a light. Without thinking, you pressed your lips on his; kissing the man.

Daryl had gone rigid beneath your touch as well; all his muscles tensing at the sudden contact. He hadn't seen that coming either. Not even in the slightest. He was way too caught off-guard to respond to the kiss in any way, so he just stood there. But when you pulled back - your soft, warm lips leaving his, he found himself missing your touch; wanting to feel your kiss again.

And suddenly everything crashed down on you. Your breath got labored; chest constricting. You needed to get out of here. So, you did. Brushing past a still overwhelmed Daryl, you stormed out of the room and kept running. Running until you stood behind the wall of the highest tower in the nest, gazing down at the beauty that was the Mont-Saint-Michel – your new home, and all across the French mudflat. It was low tide, but the beauty of the nature around you nevertheless never failed to amaze you. The wind rustled through your hair. You took a deep breath; tasting the saltiness of the water. Tears pricked your eyes.

As soon as the kiss was over and you felt Daryl not reciprocating it, the rose-colored glasses slipping off. Realization dawned on you. And when you spun around to look at your friends and the other people, you found everyone staring at you; shocked, surprised, disappointed. Everyone, except Isabelle and Sylvie, who had a small smile on their faces.

You swallowed hard; eyes flickering over to Losang - your leader. Your mentor. The man had crossed his hands behind his back. A hard look on his face. He wasn't amused - just like the other people.

What have you done?

A moment of silence passed.

You hid away in your room for the rest of the day; not wanting to see anybody. Not even your friends.

With your arms hugging your legs to your chest, you sat on your bed and let your thoughts roam; staring at the window. It was pitch black outside. The night had settled over France a long time ago, but a sudden knock ripped you out of your trance like state. You slowly turned your head towards the door; sighing. "Pars, Isa. Je t'ai déjà dit que je voulais être seul. (Go away, Isa. I told you I want to be alone)."

You knew of course what he wanted to talk about. It was rather obvious. You just kissed him after all merely a few hours hours ago. Nevertheless, you tried to avoid the embarrassing, most likely humiliating conversation.

"Y/N...," a deep, definitely not female voice spoke your name. Your eyes widened. It wasn't Isa - obviously. It was... "'S me. Daryl. Can we talk?" You swallowed hard. "Please," the man added in a quieter voice, which managed to send a shiver down your spine. You inhaled deeply; heart yearning again for the man behind the wooden door.

Slowly, you untangled your own limbs to stood up. "Y/N?" He said again; a soft knock following. Barefoot, you tiptoed across the stony ground to hesitatingly open the door - just enough to peek through the gap. "What do you want?" Daryl's gorgeous blue eyes met yours. "Talk." "About what?"

Daryl just gazed at your face for a long moment; chewing on the inside of his lip, while nervously picking at his fingers. "Let me in, please. Dun wanna discuss tha' out on the floor," he looked around. "With prying eyes." You frowned and swallowed hard once again, "Fine." and gave in; letting him step inside your small but cozy room. Closing the door behind the archer, you crossed your arms over your chest. Daryl looked around; noticing the small collection of books in the corner. The bible on your soft looking blanket. Some of your clothes on the chair beside your bed. The burning candles on your old wooden desk, which created a warm and admittedly romantic atmosphere.

"'S a nice room ya got. Way better than mine," he started; clearly trying to cover up his nervosity and keep his cool. "Thanks," you whispered; suddenly highly aware of the tension in the room. Something Daryl must have felt too.

He did.

The archer swallowed and ducked his head to avoid your eyes for a moment, before starting to speak again. "Earlier today when, uh, when ya... When ya-" You knew what he tried to say. So you were quick to interrupt him; unsure if you would survive his words of rejection now. "It was foolish of me, Daryl. I'm sorry. This shouldn't have happened." You shook your head. "I should've controlled myself better... Should've not let my feelings get the better of me. I wasn't supposed to give in. To let my heart speak. I'm sorry," you rambled; quite a bit unaware that you just declared your love to him.

The man standing across you blinked. His expression was unreadable - for you. He had learned to mask his emotions well. But internally he was on the verge of falling to his knees. "F-Feelings fer me?" He croaked out; not quite trusting his ears. Could this be true? Could you - someone so pure, delicate and angelic love a broken and tainted mess like he was? It was difficult to grasp.

Daryl was positively rendered speechless. His brain needed several seconds to catch up with your words.

Your heart almost jumped off the cliff as he repeated your words. Your eyes widened at the realization; cheeks turning crimson red.

"Y-Yes?" You didn't mean to make it sound like a question, but well... "W-Why, uh, why would I break the oath and a-all the promises I made and kiss you without love? J-Just because I could? Because it's easy?" "Nah, 'course, I... Fuck, I didn't mean it like tha'. I jus'... It's hard to believe that you... love me." You frowned. "Is it? Why? Just because you're different? Because you were made for this world? Broken until it ended? Because you don't see yourself the way I see you?" Once more you shook your head. "I am not supposed to love you and yet I can't help but believe that there is a reason God led me down this path. Granted me to experience those feelings. I felt it from the first time I laid my eyes upon you. There was a spark. Something... magical. There's gotta be a reason he led you to me." You locked your eyes with his. "Perhaps this was always meant to be."

"Wha'?" He asked; almost breathless. "Yer really wanna put me above yer faith? Above God?"

You shook your head, "Not above my faith." and smiled softly. "Above the promise I made. Above my oath."

"I always thought fallin' in love was impossible for me. I didn't believe in love - 'n then I got stranded 'ere so far from home, findin' ya..." You smiled and cupped his cheeks to gently guide his head; making his forehead rest against your forehead. "I told you, there's a reason you survived and washed up at that shore. Love isn't random, Daryl. God chose us to be connected by love," you whispered; hands dropping to his broad shoulders, gliding down his chest and ultimately landing on his belly to wrap around those suspenders he wore - which made him even more attractive.

Daryl exhaled a shaky breath; heart starting to beat faster. You meant it. You truly put him - your love for him - above the promise you made.

This time he was the one who lost control and acted on his feelings. With two big strides Daryl had bridged the distance between the both of you. Before you could react or even say another word, he had you already pushed backwards with your back pressed against the wooden door; successfully caging you between his broad frame and the door. One arm was pressed against the wooden surface a few inches beside your hand, while the archer's free hand cupped your waist; securing you in place. Your breath hitched in your throat. He was so close. You could feel his irregular breath on your skin and the warmth radiating off his body.

Panic flooded your system - something Daryl instantly detected. He saw it in your eyes. "Wha'? Wha' did he say?" He whispered as quiet as somehow possible. "He wants to talk. Now." You frantically looked around, while Daryl muttered an almost inaudible 'Fuck'. "Oui. Donne-moi juste un moment pour m'habiller. (Yes. Just give me a moment to get decent.)." "Bien sûr, sœur Y/N. (Of course, sister Y/N)." You tapped Daryl on the chest to make him walk. "Into the closet, quick. You have to hide." He nodded wordlessly and somehow managed to fit his bulky frame inside the old wooden closet. "Be quiet." "I know. I ain't stupid." You gave him a last look of worry, before you closed the closet, but left the doors ajar. Just enough for him to get air. Then you slipped hastily inside your dressing gown and took a deep breath.

His hand on your waist twitched as Daryl tilted his head. The archer's nose brushed yours before he caught your lips with his in a deep, intimate kiss. Instinctively, your hands tugged at the suspenders to pull him closer - to which his body instantly responded, before your palms went to cup his cheeks again; feeling his beard scratching your skin. You ended the kiss only to get some air back in your lungs. But within seconds was your mouth locked to Daryl's again. Slightly changing the angle, you even deepened the kiss; letting him feel all the love you held within your heart for him.

You would've loved to continue kissing him, feeling him - but a firm knock against the door (to which Daryl still had you pinned) caused the both of you scramble apart. "Y/N? Pardonne-moi de te déranger. Tu es encore réveillée? (Apologies for the disturbance. Are you still awake?)" Your eyes widened at the voice. Losang. You pressed a hand to Daryl's chest; urging him on to take a few steps back with your finger on his lips to signal him to be quiet. "Um, yes, I am still awake. On my way to bed, though." "I see." There was a pause. "Est-ce qu'on peut parler? S'il te plaît? C'est urgent. (Can we talk? Please. It's urgent.)"

"Tu peux entrer. (You may come in.)" The door opened only a few seconds later to reveal the leader of the union de l'espoir. The man held a small smile as he was facing you. "Donc, je m'excuse encore pour le dérangement. (I apologize again for the disturbance.)" You gave him a nod and a polite smile in return. "How can I help you?" You asked then. Losang crossed his hands behind his back. "I wanted to discuss the... incident that happened this morning."

Oh no...

You blushed immediately, "O-Oh, you, uh, you mean my-" and cleared your throat. "My encounter with monsieur Dixon?" He nodded. "Oui. I just wanted to make sure that this truly was just an accident. A misunderstanding. You won't break your oath and question your love for God. Not for a man like Dixon." You swallowed hard; already hating what you were about to do. Lying was a sin - but you had no other choice. Losang left you no other way out. He made that clear. "No, no, of course not. It was an accident. Like you said. I don't know what has gotten into me. So much happened in the past few weeks, I just... lost control for a moment. It won't happen again." The man opposite you nodded; visibly pleased with your answer. "I hope you understand that I can't and won't tolerate a liaison with this man. He's a lost soul, and I'm afraid he can't be saved. He doesn't believe and has no guidance."

The archer reached for your hand to cup your smaller one in his bigger one. "Yeah, I know..." You stepped closer to the man again and placed a hand on his shoulder; toying with the lapels of the black shirt he wore. "We have to be careful. You heard it yourself." Daryl nodded and squeezed your hand. "Had a feelin' tha' he ain't fond 'a me." "I'm afraid we have to keep this a secret. Us. I think there's no other way. Even if we don't like it." He gazed into your eyes and chewed on the inside of his bottom lip. "Yeah. Think we do. I ain't losin' ya again jus' 'cause 'a him. So I'd rather keep this a secret." You nodded; caressing his cheek with your thumb. "It's better that way..."

You just nodded; not saying a word. Sometimes it was best to keep quiet.

He gave you yet another smile then. "I knew that I could count on your loyalty and faith, sister Y/N." "Of course, Losang." He nodded, "I leave you to rest then. Good night." and turned to open the door. "Thank you. Good night." As soon as Losang had left your room, a relieved breath left your lips. You waited for another few moments - to make sure he was really gone, before you opened your closet again. "An accident, huh?" Daryl said teasingly as he left his uncomfortable hiding place. You shook your head with a smile. "Hush. You know I had to say it. I didn't mean it."

Daryl couldn't stop himself from dipping his head and catch your lips with his in another tender kiss. "I hope ya know what ya gettin' yerself into... I dun think 'm an easy man to love." A small smile darted over your face. "Yeah? Well, you are aware that you fell in love with a nun, right? I'd say I am the one who is harder to love." The archer scoffed and shook his head. "You dun know 'bout the things I've done." You smiled once more and took a step closer; invading his space even further. "Daryl... I don't care about your past. We all did things to survive. I only care about the here and now - and the future, 'cause... I hope to be your future."

"Laurent is what?!" You literally squeaked out; causing Daryl to grip your wrist and pull you into a small side room. The Mont-Saint-Michel had quite a lot of those... "Gone. Kidnapped. They got 'im, but 'm gonna help gettin' him back. We got a hint where they could hide. 'M leavin' in the next hour. Emile 'n Falou join me." You nodded - relieved that they had instantly worked on a plan to get the kid back, but then you frowned. "Wha'? Wha' is it? Ya worried?" Once again you nodded. "'Bout me?" "A little...," you nervously picked at your nails. "I know that you are perfectly capable of looking after yourself. I am way more worried about Emile..." That got the archer frowning. "Emile? Why him?" You shook your head. "I don't know, he... He's so different after the kidnapping. Sure, I know this was bad and such things do something to you, but..." You took a deep breath. "I got a bad feeling about him. About this. Can't explain it." The archer shook his head and cupped your hips in his big hands. "I got this. Dun worry. But thanks for tellin' me yer concern. Gonna keep it in mind."

Your plan worked perfectly fine. You and Daryl truly managed to keep your romantic liaison a secret. No public affection - something the archer was not very fond of anyway, which played into your hands. Only behind closed (and mostly even locked) doors. Sure, you exchanged subtle looks and small smiles, but nothing beside that. If you had to talk, you talked like acquaintances would do. The only people who knew about you and Daryl were Sylvie and Isabelle. They were your closest friends, after all. You trusted them with your life. Unlike Losang, they didn't have a problem with it. Quite the opposite... They even supported you (and Daryl).

It was almost to good to be true - until it wasn't...

You sighed and slung your arms around his neck to hug him. "You could join me, ya know..." You huffed out a small laugh and shook your head. "No, better not. We both know I'm not a good fighter. I'd only make things more difficult and complicated for you, and I don't want that." Daryl grunted. "Gotta change tha'. 'M gonna teach ya how to fight. Properly. 'S important. Gotta know I can leave my woman alone for a few hours without her getting herself killed." You scoffed but knew that he was actually right. "Yeah, we should do that."

"Je t'aime. (I love you.) I'll be waiting." Daryl smiled. By now he knew the meaning of those words. "I love ya, too." "Stay safe," you whispered and squeezed his hand before you let go of him again. "You, too, ya hear me?" You nodded with a small smile. "I'm safe here."

A few beats of silence passed, in which you just embraced each other; enjoying your partner's proximity.

"Ya gonna be there when we leave?" You took a deep breath at Daryl's question and sighed once more. "No. Better not. I got a feeling that Jacinta will be there, too and... I got a feeling that she's got her eyes on me. I'm afraid she's already a bit suspicious of us..." Daryl nodded. "Damnit, a'right... We gotta be careful then." You retreated from the hug to look deeply into his gorgeous blue eyes and nodded. Then you cupped his cheeks and gently pulled his head down for a kiss - which the archer gladly reciprocated. The kiss was deep, intense and full of love. Who knew when you'd see each other again? How long this rescue mission was going to take...

The moment you heard Daryl's name fall from Losang's lips, sleep was forgotten. This conversation had captured your full attention. Slowly, you sneaked up closer; looking through the gap of the wooden ajar door. Usually, you weren't one to pry at other people, but this... You couldn't let that slip. They were talking about the man you loved, after all.

You walked down the stony hallway on your way to your room when you heard voices coming from what sounded like the meeting hall. You could've sworn it sounded like Losang and Jacinta... But it was already late and all you wanted was to sleep, so you decided to just ignore it. Until you heard a sentence which caught your attention.

"Ça devrait être déjà réglé. (It should be done by now)," said Jacinta. 'Done by now?' You frowned. What should be done by now? Rescuing Laurent? "Bien. Espérons que tout se soit passé comme prévu. Dixon n'est pas idiot. Il est dur à coincer. (Good. Let's hope everything goes according to plan. Dixon isn't stupid. He's hard to get)".

"Ne t'en fais pas. Il ne l'a pas vu venir. Il ferait n'importe quoi pour le gamin. Dixon est futé, mais pas autant que nous. (Don't worry. He won't see this coming. He'd do everything for the boy. Dixon may be smart, but we're smarter.)" Losang smiled and gave his right-hand-woman a nod. "Il est temps de préparer la cérémonie. Dixon est mort, et rien ne viendra entraver la destinée du garçon. (We have to prepare the ceremony. Now that Dixon is dead and out of the way, nothing is going to hinder the boy to fulfill his destiny.)"

Your heart almost stopped at the man's words. It felt like it had just shattered into a million pieces. Dead. That's what he said. A cocktail of emotions flooded your veins. Shock, disbelief, pain... And anger. You felt so angry like you never did before in your life as a nun. They had tricked Daryl, most likely led him into a trap and... and... You weren't able to finish that thought. Your head started to spin, causing you to stumble back a few steps. Unfortunately, your feet hit an old bucket on the floor; left standing there for cleaning. Of course, you knocked it over. Not very quietly. It attracted the 'traitors' attention and let them hurry to the door.

"Sister Y/N..." Jacinta addressed you. "Que fais-tu ici? (What are you doing here?)" You had steadied yourself against the wall; breathing labored. You still couldn't grasp what was happening. The world just collapsed on you. "D-Dead? Daryl is... dead? You... You killed him. You betrayed him." You looked up to face them; anger glimmering in your eyes. "No... You betrayed everything we stand for. You betrayed God and your belief."

Jacinta was visibly insulted by your words and already wanted to fire back at you, but a hand on her forearm held her back. The leader of the union de l'espoir gave her a look, then faced you with a smile. "Tiens, tiens, chère sœur... (Now now, dear sister...) Such harsh words from your lips..." He shook his head. "We did what had to be done. For this unity. For all of us. For Laurent to fulfill the prophecy. We are going to live again, sister Y/N. But not with Dixon. He isn't one of us. He's nothing but a lost soul. All he did was trying to lead Laurent off his foretold path. We couldn't let that happen..."

You scoffed and huffed out an ironic laugh. "Off his foretold path," you quoted - mocked the man. "Oh, allez! C'est ridicule! (Oh, come on! That's ridiculous!) All Daryl did was look out for Laurent. Without him, he wouldn't even be here at the nest! We all owe Daryl for what he did!" Your voice was raised; shaking with hurt and anger. Hands clenched to fists. You hadn't experienced such feelings in a long time.

Jacinta crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at you. "That sounds like the boy isn't the only one who got led off their path by Dixon..." She spoke in a low threatening voice. "Est-ce qu'il t'a aussi jeté un sort, sœur Y/N? (Did he cast a spell on you as well, sister Y/N?)" You shook your head. "No. I did not once leave the path I'm bound to walk. And Daryl certainly did not cast a spell on me." You looked both, Jacinta and Losang dead in the eyes. The time of denial and hiding was over. You wouldn't just stand here and accept this. You were going to fight for Daryl - no matter if he was dead or alive.

"It was God who led Daryl into my life. It was God who intertwined our fates and let the love grow between us. We are destined to be together - and I won't let this go. Not without a fight. I'm going to save him - and Laurent." With those words and a literal death glare, you turned on your heels to walk away - but you didn't get far.

"No, sister Y/N. You won't," Losang spoke up once more; his voice as cold as ice. "If you truly believe that God would allow a nun to get romantically involved with such a tainted, dark soul, then you're lost as well. Attrapez-la! (Get her.)"

Everything was blurred; your vision unclear. It's been like that for days - or already weeks? You couldn't tell. You had lost any sense of time in that damn old shower room turned dungeon. Your wrist hurt from the metallic handcuffs, which cuffed you to that old, rusty pipe. A bruise had already formed on the skin and some dried blood was staining the dirty sweatshirt you wore, due to the metal piercing and tore your flesh. You had tried so hard to break free, but your hand was too big to slip past the unrewarding material. Your blurry eyesight wasn't helping as well... You didn't even know why your eyes acted out like this. All you knew was that your head hurt. And that you were out cold for an unknown amount of time. You lastly remembered being dragged away by Losang's men. Then there was a huge gap in your brain's memory, and the next time you opened your eyes, you were in that shower stall; cuffed and with a throbbing headache. So, all you were left with was frustration, anger and pain.

Before you even registered what was happening, were you captured by two of Losang's fighters. They gripped your arms harshly; holding you in place. You didn't even know where they came from so suddenly. "H-Hey, what- Let go of me!" You tried to break free, but you weren't exactly the strongest and definitely not a trained fighter. They easily dragged you back to Losang and Jacinta. "Tu dois comprendre, chère sœur, que tu vas faire partie de tout ça. Tu vas nous aider et ce sera vivante ou morte... à toi de décider. (You need to understand, dear sister, that you are going to be a part of this. You are going to help us. If dead or alive is your decision.)"

Sure, they had dragged you out of this cell multiple times to torture you; trying to get more information about the thorn in their side, which was Daryl Dixon.

Why would they even need that information? Was he still alive? Was it a means to an end? Or purely just to hurt you and get your 'faith back on track'?

You did not know. All you knew was, that you'd die before you'd tell Losang's men anything. You prayed every night; asking God to give you the needed strength to get through this. To fight for the man you loved - even though he was probably dead. For this you prayed, too. For Daryl to still be alive and out there somewhere.

Your prayers got answered - kind of.

"I highly recommend you to talk, Mr. Dixon," Losang addressed the archer, who was being held down on his knees by two fighters - even though it wasn't actually necessary. Daryl was swaying back and forth slightly, still a bit dazed from the blow to the head he took. Blood dripped from his lips and several cuts on his face were stinging in pain. The bruise around his eye already started to form as he looked up at the leader through heavy-lidded eyes; panting heavily.

All he wanted was to save you - and Laurent, of course. Together with the only trustworthy friends he had left. Isabelle and Falou. Luckily, he was able to rescue the boy, who was now safe with his aunt and friend. He had stayed behind to find you, but... His plan obviously did not work, and he got captured.

A blow into the pit of his stomach got the archer to keel over; a grunt of pain leaving his lips. Another punch followed suit. Before a third one could find its target, Losang intervened. "Arrênte (Stop it)," he commanded firmly. "Ça n'aidera pas. (That won't help.)" Jacinta, who stood silently in a corner and watched the scenes unfold in front of her eyes agreed. "Il a raison. Ça ne le fera pas. (He's right. It won't help.) He isn't going to talk. Not like that." The woman exchanged a knowing look with the leader. "Perhaps, we use the wrong... leverage."

"Were is the boy?" Losang's voice cut through the quiet, tense air; demanding to get the precious information from the man on his knees. Daryl shook his head; slowly regaining full consciousness. "Fuck you," he spat. "Ain't gonna tell ya a damn thing."

Many men (and women) before Losang had tried to get into his head. Tried to twist him and torture him into surrender. But Daryl never broke. He won't ever break. His spirit was too strong. His loyalty towards the people he loved was too strong. They could do everything they wanted to him, but he would not break.

Wrong leverage?, Daryl questioned himself as he slowly straightened his upper body again. What was that supposed to mean?

His heart dropped; shattered into a trillion pieces. They had captured you as well.

"Ramène-la ici. (Get her)," Losang barked at two other men, who immediately shuffled and moved to get out of the room. The archer didn't know what was happening, but something inside him told him that it wasn't good. He had a really bad feeling.

Once steps could be heard outside the room, Losang turned to face Daryl again; a smug, sinister smile on his lips. "Let's see if I am able to persuade you now," he leaned dangerously closer, whispering: "In fact, I'm sure I can. Eyes to the front, Dixon." One man who held Daryl harshly gripped his chin to lift his head; making him look. Making him look how the two other men who had left the room a few minutes prior returned and dragging you with them.

His eyes frantically ran over your clearly weak and injured frame. You had bruises on your face. A deep cut gashing on your cheek. Dried blood stained your sweatshirt. You appeared to be not even properly conscious; eyelids drooping. When the men let go of you, you couldn't even stand on your own two feet and just slumped to the ground.

Daryl was wide awake again. The adrenaline flooding his system kudos to the anger and hurt he felt letting him forget his very own pain and injuries. "Y/N!" He yelled in a broken voice, and quickly shot up on his feet to get to you.

He didn't make it.

Before he could even take a step forward, the men who were positioned beside him held him back. He tried to fight against their grasp... "Y/N! Y/N!" ... but it was no use. "Wha' have ya done to 'er! You sick fuck! You-" A knee into his gut knocked the air out of his lungs and forced the archer back onto his knees.

Losang had watched the man's outburst from the sidelines. Now that he was put back into his place, he dared to step closer again; towering over him. "Now, Daryl... Did you made up your mind? Are you going to tell us now where the boy is, or do we have to push sister Y/N's limits even more?"

Daryl panted heavily and slowly lifted his eyes to look at Losang; pure hatred and anger oozing from the blue irises. "Fuck. You," he growled lowly. "Ya ain't gonna break me. Or Y/N. We ain't gonna talk. Ya gotta kill us first - but ya can't, 'cause then you'd be left without anythin' as well. Yer gonna lose this battle."

Once the room got quiet and the men left; locking the literal jail door behind them, Daryl tried to shift and move in an unsuccessful attempt to get closer to you. "Y/N!" He called out your name repeatedly with a strained, hoarse voice, "Y/N! Can ya hear me?" but he never received an answer. You were most likely still out cold. Slumping back against the wall in defeat and worry, he let his tired eyes slip shut. This was all his fault. He got you in this situation. He was the reason you had to suffer - and he hated himself for this. For letting this happen.

Losang gritted his teeth in anger and frustration. The man was seething with rage - much to Daryl's delight and satisfaction. He sent the archer a death glare, before he literally stomped backwards. "Emmez-les tout de suite! Qu'ils disparaissent de ma vue! (Take them away! Get them out of my sight!)" He yelled at the men who held both you and him captured. They flinched at the outburst, but immediately got to work; dragging you and Daryl away.

Like you, Daryl landed in the former shower room as well. They cuffed him to the shower stall beside yours; a thick wall separating you.

The hours ticked by. It had gotten dark by now. Daryl was constantly slipping in and out of sleep; too on edge to let himself rest, but his body took what it needed now and then. He was already on the verge of sleeping in again, when he suddenly heard your voice. Soft and weak, but it was there. "Daryl?" You whispered - and the archer was instantly wide awake again. "Y/N!" He shifted and moved; ignoring his aching limbs. The handcuffs rattling against the hook which held them (and him) in place. "Y/N? Yer awake?" He heard soft rustling from the other side of the wall. "I-I am, I... What happened?"

Daryl shook his head; beyond relief to hear your voice. It was a good sign. "Dun matter. Wha' happened to you, sunshine? What did that prick do to ya? Are ya in pain?"

You inhaled deeply; closing your eyes for a moment. "I... Overheard a conversation between Lo- Losang and Jacinta. They were..." You swallowed hard. "They were talking about the rescue mission they sent you on. It was a trap, set-" "Set to kill me. Yeah, I know," he finished your sentence; helping you. "I-I couldn't let this just happen, so I confronted them and landed here..." Daryl sighed. "Damnit," he cursed under his breath. "Tha's all cause 'a me. 'S my fault."

You shook your head - unbeknownst to your partner. "It's not... It was the decision I made. I chose this." Daryl gnawed at the inside of his bottom lip and fumbled with his fingers; gaze directed at the dirty ground beneath him. A long moment of silence passed, which got you worried. "Daryl?" Your slightly frantic voice got the archer out of his trance. "'M here," he reassured you in a soft voice, before sighing.

"It was yer decision, yeah, but... I should've come lookin' for ya earlier. Should've saved you. Protected you. I-" A sudden, very loud 'thud' cut off the archer; the stony ground beneath you shaking slightly. "What... What was that?" Daryl perked his ears and focused his eyes on the cage door ahead. "I dunno... Was like an earthquake or sum'thin'." "An earthquake? Can that be?" "Dunno. But whatever it was... We gotta stay attentive."

It didn't take long before other noises joined the 'thud'. Voices, yelling, gunshots, snarling... "Sounds like we're getting attacked," you whispered. "Yeah...," Daryl just said rather absentmindedly. You didn't see that he was working already for minutes to get his wrist free from the handcuff. "We... We have to get out of here. Those bars won't protect us..." There was fear in your voice. Daryl could clearly tell. "I know, sunshine," he started; finally freeing his hand, and stood up. "And we will."

He appeared in your field of view with the most loving smile you had ever seen upon his lips. You could've cried out of sheer relief - and you did. "Daryl..." You halfway sobbed; all the emotions crashing down on you. It had been just so much. The fear of losing him. The uncertainty. The physical and mental torture. He quickly crouched down in front of you - once again ignoring the pain he felt, and tried to uncuff you. "I know, I know. 'S all gonna be a'right." Big, calloused and strong hands gently took your hand to pick the lock. He was so gentle and cautious; seeing the wounds you had contracted as you visibly tried to break free. His heart hurt at the sight.

"I gotcha. I gotcha now," Daryl whispered as the lock finally gave out and you literally collapsed into his arms; crying and shaking. Daryl kissed your palm and gently pulled you up with him to cradle your body close to his. "'M here. I gotcha," he reassured you once more and just held you for a long moment. Just letting you feel him and the love he held for you.

"'N I'm gonna get us outta here. I promise, but ya gotta help me, okay? Can ya do tha' for me?" You inhaled a shaky breath; having calmed down again. "Y-Yes. Yes." Daryl nodded and slowly let you down again, so that you were standing on both your feet. You were still a bit wobbly, so he kept steadying you.

Another moment later, he pulled back enough to look into your eyes. A tender smile adorned his face. He tucked a few loose strands of hair behind your ears and cautiously wiped away the stray tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. "Tha's my woman." You gave him a faint, soft smile in return. The archer maintained eye contact, and dipped his head to bestow a gentle, yet so loving kiss upon your lips.

"Now c'mon. Let's get outta here, find Laurent and the others, 'n go back home."

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @dixonsdarkelf @dixons-sunshine @negansbestie @dixonsstinkysock @loz-3 @bigbaldheadname @yas-yas-mimi @darylandbethfanforever9 @ffsjustletmesleep @huntedmusicgardenn @mayday2007 @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @belitoxx @imadisneyprincessiswear @cakesandtom

[tiberius-kirks]

before getting a cat as an adult I had no idea how much of my time would be spent staring adoringly at her and stopping whatever I was doing to pick her up and kiss her on the noggin

[thebluebygracieabrams]

so tired of being a shitty bandaid for my parents' loneliness. like have u ever considered you passed your curse to me and some days i feel so lonely it's like i can't breathe around the emptiness in my chest????

[rafeysbunny]

‧₊˚ ⋅ i'll show you, rafe cameron

stepbro!rafe x fem!reader

masterlist

synopsis. in which your stepbrother kindly offers to show you porn for the first time.

warnings. stepbro!rafe, innocent!reader (but she's not an airhead), virgin!reader, smut, fingering, rafe putting in just the tip, oral sex (fem receiving), rafe licks his own creampie.

word count. 4k.

author's note. idea by @matts1andonly. english isn't my first language so there might be spelling mistakes, don't hold it against me. enjoy!

it's past midnight when you finally slide out of your bedroom without making a sound. you have been waiting patiently for your mom and ward to go to bed so you can do this without risking getting caught. wheezie is already asleep too, sarah is out with john b somewhere, and rafe left the house earlier, not telling anyone where to, so you know he's going to arrive late, as always.

it's the perfect moment.

rafe's room is down the hallway, so you make your way there quietly not to wake anyone, your barefoot feet making soft footstep sounds when you walk. once there, you open the door as carefully as you possibly can, knowing it creaks every time it gets open. this time, thanks to god, it does not.

you manage to sneak into the dormitory unnoticed, then shut the door behind you. the place is dark, only a faint glimmer of moonlight coming in through his curtains, but you want to lay low, so you don't turn on the lights. by all means, the dim lighting is enough for you to spot what you're looking for.

rafe's mac, laying there on his desk.

what's the point behind all of this? you might be wondering. well, let me answer you real quick. turns out, this handsome, muscled college guy has invited you on a date. problem is, you have never been on a date. you haven't even hold hands with a guy romantically before, much less kissed or fucked one. you simply refuse to come off as a prude, which honestly you are, but that dream of a man doesn't need to know that.

and that's why you have decided that it is a good idea to break into your stepbrother's bedroom and borrow his laptop, since yours broke last week, to watch porn in it for the first time.

well, now that you hear it out loud, it probably sounded better in your head. anyways...

you stroll towards the desk with languid steps and sit down on rafe's chair, small hands reaching hesitantly to open the laptop. you turn it on and the screen light illuminates your pretty face right away. you swear your fingers are shaking a little bit as you open up the browser and type 'porn videos' on the search bar.

somehow, you feel like you are doing something wrong, and you can't seem to shake the guilt away. either way, you don't back out. you click the enter button and, after just a few seconds, a million search results pop up. honestly, you don't know where to start, so you click on the first one, which redirects you to a website called pornhub.

the home page is full of videos, the first thing to catch your attention being the obscene thumbnails of each one of them. your cheeks flush a deep shade of red. you read some of the titles as you bite your lip nervously, realising most of them contain the word 'stepsister' in them, and you wonder if that is the only content posted on this page.

how innocent of you not to know that the website is making recommendations based on your stepbro's most searched tag.

before things escalate further, you spot rafe's airpods max sitting there on the desk and decide to grab them, connecting them to the laptop and putting them on —this way you can make sure no one overhears anything. after that, you spend a few more minutes scrolling through the page, during which you discover that there's a ton of categories to choose from.

how are you supposed to know which one to pick?

you are so invested in your little research, headphones canceling the noise, that you don't hear neither rafe opening the front door nor him walking up the stairs and, surely, don't notice him standing behind you until he speaks. and it's too late by then.

"the fuck are you doing, sweetheart?" he blurts, complete and utterly shocked to see his naive stepsister fuckin' watching pornhub.

well shit, maybe you aren't as innocent as he thought you were.

you jolt instantly, jumping out of your seat as you feel all the colour draining from your cheeks. no way rafe just caught you in the act. this can't be real. despite how bad you want to run away, you are left with no other choice but to turn around and face him, wishing the earth would swallow you up.

"i– this is not what it looks like, i swear i can explain," you stutter nervously, taking of the airpods with trembling hands. from here on, the anxious rambling begins, "i wasn't doing anything... this guy– well, i... i uhm– i got a date, 'kay? with this guy from class and– listen, i know this is silly, but..."

"jesus christ, baby, slow down, 'kay?" he stops you, his heart nearly melting from how cute you look, so shy and flustered. he almost feels bad for interrupting whatever the hell you were doing here.

the colour has returned to your cheeks, and you are all flushed now, from head to toe. your face feels like it's on fire; you have never been this embarrassed before.

"could you please start over?" he asks, hoping to hear a coherent explanation to why you are in his room, in the middle of the night, and watching porn on his laptop.

you take a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your top. you are so deeply ashamed that you don't seem to remember that you are wearing nothing but a flimsy white singlet and a tiny pair of matching panties. rafe's very aware of that fact, though, hungry eyes trailing all over your beautiful body.

"i've got a date with a guy from class," you start explaining, white teeth nibling occasionally on your plump bottom lip, "but i've never dated anyone, ya' know? i've no experience, and i don't want him to think i'm pathetic if we..."

"fuck?" he finishes your sentence, a roguish grin spreading across his handsome face.

if possible, your blush deepens even more at the vulgarity while you mutter a quiet 'yeah' in response.

honestly, he is a bit jealous of that guy. not only you are willing to let him fuck you, but you are also trying to learn how to do it properly so he has a good time doing it. yeez, what a shame for him he is going to kill him as soon as he finds out who he is; there's no chance rafe's letting you near any other man but him.

"i thought, uhm, maybe watching that would help..." you add coyly, his silence making you more nervous.

it is cute how you try to avoid saying words like 'fuck' or 'porn', like it is a crime to pronounce them or something.

"you know what? let's watch it together," he proposes.

there's a mischievous glint in his eyes that doesn't go unnoticed. you swear your cheeks might just explode at any second, and you can't help the pathetic stutter that comes out when you talk. "uhm, i don't think that'd be appropriate," you refuse, shaking your head.

"why not? you want help, and i can help you here, sweetheart," he answers, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle —unlike rafe, "that's what big brothers are for, aren't they?"

he takes a few steps in his direction until he is standing right beside you. then, he grabs the laptop in his large hands as he flashes you a wicked smirk, his curtain bangs falling messily on his forehead. you gulp, having him so close makes you feel a certain way; you cannot deny that.

"you, uhm, being my stepbrother is exactly why not," you stammer as you tilt your head back to look at him, his height towering over you.

"bullshit," he retorts, huffing. "you trust me?"

your first mistake is, probably, trusting rafe cameron. "yeah, i do, but..."

"that's why 'm perfect for the job, baby," he interrupts you. his words are clearly intended to manipulate you, but you are way too innocent to notice it, "i'm probably the guy you feel most comfortable with, aren't i? i can give ya' all the advice you need."

to be fair, he isn't wrong about that. you don't have any male friends, and you are honestly too embarrassed to ask your girlfriends for help on this department, not wanting them to think less of you. plus, rafe is a guy; he knows better what guys like, right?

"wouldn't it be kinda... weird ?" you ask, clearly hesistant.

"weird?" he repeats. "no, 'course not."

only a few more sweet, reassuring words is all it takes for him to gently coax you into watching his favourite pornos with him. his cock starts to harden in his pants just at the thought of having you like that. when you finally accept, he swears he's on cloud nine.

god, he's been wanting you for months now; he can't believe this is happening.

"c'mere, baby," he eagerly instructs you, getting on his bed.

he sits with his back resting on the headboard and pats the spot between his legs to invite you to sit there. he places the laptop next to him, the pornhub website still open on it. you move slowly towards him, cheeks slightly flushed from the embarrassment as you settle on the mattress in between his parted thighs, your back pressed to his hard chest.

he wraps one strong arm securely around your waist, his hand coming to rest gently on your tummy. with his other hand, he reaches for the laptop sitting beside him, carefully bringing it closer so the two of you can see the screen properly.

your heart is beating so fast in your chest that he can probably hear it, too. the way he is touching you is not making it easier for you to stay calm, either, his fingers tenderly tracing patterns on your belly over the thin fabric of your shirt while he scrolls through the page.

he seems to sense your discomfort and chuckles low in his throat, his warm breath tickling your ear. "relax, sis," he whispers teasingly, his voice laced with amusement. "i'm not gonna make you watch anything that'll traumatize you."

"it's just– this is a bad idea," you babble, fidgeting nervously when he finally clicks on a video and a pretty young woman appears on screen.

the actress is beautiful; she has a gorgeous body and face. her lips are full and pink, and she has these big, expressive eyes that appear to gleam. and you don't realize it, but she looks exactly like you.

the scene starts playing; in it, the girl is watching some movie with a guy that, apparently, is her roommate —at least that's what the title says.

"shhh..." he hushes you softly, his voice barely audible over the sounds emanating from his laptop's speakers. "just watch. don't overthink it."

"okay," you answer between gritted teeth.

your pretty eyes are fixed on the laptop while you try not to cringe at how bad the script and acting are, which is nearly impossible, to be honest. despite that, you keep watching in silence as the video plays, growing more flustered as the clock ticks.

you didn't know mouths could be used for that... interesting.

as opposed to you, rafe's pretty chill behind you, like he's unbothered by this whole situation —he's actually hard as fuck inside his pants, the thing is you haven't noticed. you wonder how he can act so unfazed, since you keep pushing your thighs together to try and soothe the throbbing sensation building in between them while you take in the lewd actions occurring on screen.

you weren't expecting your body to have this reaction, and now you don't know what to do to make it stop.

rafe soon becomes aware of the way you keep letting out soft sighs and squirming in his arms, plush ass rubbing against his cock every time you do it. it's a miracle he is still holding back, though he doesn't know how much time he will be able to.

he's not even paying attention to the video anymore, his entire focus put on you. he finally ventures to lean in, his hot breath grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "you know, i could do that to you..." his hand slowly slides to your plush thigh and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

his movements are measured and controlled not to scare you, but your breath hitches in your chest at his actions either way, body tensing up in his grasp. your brain is telling you to push him away, but the insistent throb in your sex doesn't like that idea, not one bit.

"you– you could?" you utter quietly, not taking your eyes away from the laptop.

rafe notices the uncertainty in your voice, but the way you haven't pushed him away yet emboldens him to continue, his large hand gradually sliding north.

"yeah, baby," he murmurs huskily against your ear, fingertips brushing along your inner thigh. "i could put my fingers inside you, just like he's doing to her..."

his words make you blush heavily as a little gasp is released from your pouty lips. "would it feel good?" you ask naively.

your eyes are transfixed in the sight of the guy on the screen pushing his fingers inside the girl's pussy. god, she seems like she's enjoying it so much... and you desperately want to feel like that too. you can't even bring yourself to care that it's your stepbrother offering to show you.

rafe's fingers creep higher and higher until they're barely brushing against your cotton panties. "yeah," he growls huskily against your ear, "it'd feel real good, sweetheart. i promise..."

you shudder, a sweet little mewl escaping your throat involuntarily. you can't help but blush at your own reaction, slightly embarrassed by it. you tear your eyes away from the screen, head falling back against his chest as you look up at him.

"it's throbbing, rafe..." you whine, self-control slipping from your hands. "can you make it better?"

rafe's fingers finally make contact with your wet underwear, pressing against your clit through the fabric. he rubs gentle circles around your sensitive nub, his other hand curling around your supple thigh to spread your legs wider.

"oh, baby, you're soaked through your panties..." he pants out.

your body literally melts into his touch like butter, perfectly shaped brows knitting together in a frown of pleasure. the girl in the video moans, and you do too, both sounds echoing in the silence of his room.

taking your moan as an invitation, rafe carefully hooks his fingers in the gusset of your panties to push them aside, exposing your sopping cunt to the cool air of his bedroom. then, he traces your wet slit slowly, leisurely, as if savoring the velvety feel of your skin.

"such a pretty little pussy..." he praises, eyes hungrily taking in the pink expanse of flesh.

you squirm and let out a soft whimper, biting your lip right after to avoid keep making noises; the last thing you want is to wake up your parents or wheezie. rafe notices your struggle and swiftly reaches up to cover your mouth with his free hand, muffling your sweet moans.

he gathers some of the wetness dripping out of your cunt before trailing his fingers all the way up to your clit, rubbing it gently. your eyes roll back, hips bucking up against his hand instinctively. the way your swollen bud throbs beneath his fingertips is going to make you mad. he begins to touch your clit in fast, tight circles, his other hand still holding your mouth shut to keep you quiet.

he leans in to whisper against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine, "if you make a sound, i'll stop, got it?"

you nod obediently in response, making your best effort to comply; you don't want him to stop doing this, never. as a reward, rafe slides a thick finger down your slit and presses it against your clenched entry, steadily applying pressure until your tight muscles finally give in and allow his digit ingress.

"so fuckin' tight," he groans under his breath at the feeling of your narrow pussy engulfing his finger.

withdrawing his finger almost all the way out, he teases your entrance with the tip, making you tremble with anticipation before pushing it back in to the knuckle, his palm cupping your mound as he starts to thrust in a smooth, lazy rhythm. you swallow a whiny cry while your eyelids flutter shut, pretty face scrunched in a blissful expression.

rafe works his finger in and out of your slick pussy slowly, marveling at how your velvety walls flutter around the digit. he curls it inward, searching for that special spot that's guaranteed to drive you wild.

after a few experimental pokes, rafe's fingertip finally brushes over your g-spot, eliciting a muffled moan from under his palm. he smiles wickedly against your skin, and you shudder in his grasp, pleasure waves running through your body.

"that's it, sweetheart... feel good?" he croons softly, fingering you nice and deep.

you can't bring yourself to reply, the sensation of his large digit fucking your pussy, added to the constant rubbing of his palm against your puffy clit has your mind feeling all fuzzy. your body language is the only answer he needs, though.

rafe leans in to tenderly nip at your neck, his hot mouth latching onto your slender throat as he keeps pumping his finger steadily in and out of your dripping cunt. he knows you're close when he feels your inner muscles starting to clench erratically around his digit.

"rafe," you moan onto his palm as you feel this new, strange sensation building in your tummy, pussy tingling so nicely.

heaven help him. hearing you, his stepsister, moan his name like that makes rafe's hard dick throb almost painfully against his zipper.

and then it happens. the coil in your belly suddenly snaps and you have to bite onto your lip harshly to keep yourself from screaming as you cum for the very first time, on your stepbrother's hand. rafe continues to pump his finger in and out of your spasming cunt as you ride out your climax, wanting to prolong your pleasure.

when you finally come down from your high, you're all shaky and flustered in his arms, panting heavily to try and catch your breath. he has a satisfied smirk on his lips while he slowly withdraws his slick digit from your quivering hole to bring it up to his mouth and lick it clean, savoring your taste.

"did so well for me, baby," he coos as he uncovers your mouth, gently turning your head to the side to press a kiss to your swollen, red lips.

you return it sloppily, eyes fluttering shut in the process, and you sigh contently against his mouth. he can't help but rock his hips against your ass, rubbing his hard on against you.

"did i make you feel good?" he asks between little kisses, his breathing growing uneven. you nod in response. "yeah? then it's just fair you make me feel good too, sweetheart... wanna do that f'me?"

"yes," you whisper against his lips without even thinking, feeling him smirk into the kiss.

"such a good girl," he praises.

at some point, the porn video playing on his laptop ended, so he simply closes it up and tosses it away, the device landing somewhere on his king size bed. then, he turns you both around, until you are laying on the mattress and he is on top of you.

he is quick to undo his pants and yank them down, just enough to free his raging hard on, which bounces against his abs. let me tell you this, he's big, the tip pink and fat, already leaking precum.

suddenly, realization hits you. this is your stepbrother for god's sake, are you really gonna let him fuck you?

he notices how your body tenses up, one hand reaching to stroke your plush thigh reassuringly while the other wraps around his shaft, giving it a slow pump.

"hey, baby, relax..." he whispers gently, "i'll put just the tip in, yeah? there's nothing wrong with that."

you hesitate. his strong arms slide beneath your legs to tug you closer. then his cock brushes your pussy and you whimper. how are you supposed to say 'no' ?

it's just the tip.

"mhmm, 'kay" you end up agreeing with a little nod.

rafe flashes you a lopsided smirk, his hand gripping his cock again while the free one yanks your panties aside once more. keeping eye contact, he slowly glides the fat head of his dick up and down your drenched slit, coating it thoroughly in your arousal. you shudder as his tip eventually meets your puffy clit, the gentle rubbing sending shivers down your spine.

"rafe," you whimper.

rafe's eyelids droop, a low hum of pleasure escaping his throat as he continues to slowly drag the reddened head up and down your chubby pussy lips with squelching sounds. his breathing grows heavier the longer he teasingly rolls it against your slick folds, reveling in your breathy whimpers. he feels like he's about to burst already, pre-cum steadily leaking from the tip and onto your flesh.

he can't fucking take this anymore.

with a slow, gentle thrust, he sinks his cock into your warm, slippery pussy, just the head breaching your entrance before he pauses, savoring the initial penetration. his eyes lock onto yours, his pupils blown wide with lust.

"jesus, fuck." he grunts.

your cunt starts fluttering around him. he has barely slided the first two inches in, as he promised, but he's so thick that even that feels like a tight fit. you let out a moan, which mingles with a strained groan from rafe as your velvety walls clench tightly around his swollen cockhead.

"gonna– might just nut already, shit" rafe mutters through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to just drive forward and hilt himself deep. "so goddamn tight."

your hips buck unconsciously against his, making him slip in just a tad further —which nearly makes him lose all his self-control. somehow, he manages to keep his shit together, hips rocking slowly to thrust in and out of you while his veiny hand strokes the rest of his shaft.

you're totally enthralled by the sight, liquid heat pooling in your belly while you watch him use your body for his pleasure. he looks so good, you can't believe he's real. your chest fills with pride at the knowledge that you're making this greek god feel good.

this is the fastest rafe has ever cum, the movement of his hips becoming jerky and sloppy after a few minutes as he spills his sperm inside you. he's panting heavily, sweat beading on his brow while his fist squeezes the base of his cock tightly.

you're left wanting more when he slowly pulls out, pussy stretched out and leaking white spurts of cum. he gazes down at you with a smirk, lightly tapping the head of his dick against your swollen clit, which has you writhing beneath him.

"so fuckin' gorgeous stuffed full of my cum," he whispers, his cock smearing the sticky substance all over your slit. you mewl in response. "hmm, 'm sorry for making such a mess on your pretty pussy, sweetheart, lemme clean it up, yeah?"

you blush in response when he leans forward, throwing your creamy thighs over his broad shoulders, to put his mouth onto your sex. you almost cry at the heavenly feeling, his playful tongue delving between your folds to lap up his own release. he cleans you up thoroughly, only to mess you up again right after, his spit soaking your cunt as he makes you cum again.

after tonight, you are cancelling that date, that's for sure.

[kooktrash]

million dollar darling | jeon jungkook

summary: jeon jungkook is well aware of how privileged he is to have been born into the life he was given. it was glamorous and influential yet close-knit and suffocating, something he thought he wanted to escape from. a trip back home to the circle of wealth and snottiness for his best friend’s million dollar wedding has reminded him of all the reasons why he wanted to leave in the first place… and all the reasons he should stay — the main one being you, the spoiled rich girl he knew was utterly perfect for him.

➣ genre/au: jungkook x model!reader [she/her, female anatomy], old money au, smut, plot [soft on the e2l/f2l tropes]

[loosely inspired by ‘crazy rich asians’ movie/book by kevin kwan]

➣19.7k words

warnings: heavy plot. smut. model oc. jk is a wander but he’s really just a rich guy in disguise. oc and jk got heavy tension but good banter. oc is kinda snotty but not really? namjoon x oc [not y/n]. rich, old money snotty bts. sex on a yacht. teasing. foreplay. oral [f and m receiving]. jk goes to town on oc. cunnilingus. unprotected. missionary. oc on top. jk is tatted up in a polo. heavy makeout. breast play. fingering. dirty talk. oc goes down on jk while he’s on the phone with hobi 😭. jk’s villain arc as he slowly turns back into a cocky rich boy hehe. jk gets sex flashbacks at dolce and gabbana

“Come on, it’s my wedding and I want you as my best man. Do it for your best friend.”

The sky had been clear when he landed, a bright blue cloudless sky that resembled the clarity of the sea he had left behind. The air already seemed stiffer and the bleakness of the airport brought his mood down almost immediately.

The only thing to make him somewhat happy to be home was the sight of the person in front of him, a huge grin on his face as he saw him. The man was dressed casual in a pair of sweats and a hoodie but the small details of his watch matched with the luxury car parked outside brought unwelcome attention to Jungkook when people stared.

“I was worried you bailed last minute,” Namjoon said with a grin as he pulled him into a hug, “It’s good to see you.”

“I wouldn’t,” Jungkook reached into the pocket of his oversized black hoodie and slid his face mask off, taking a cigarette and lighting it once they were outside the airport, “It’s been too long without seeing your beautiful face.”

“Yeah, don’t tell Yeonwoo, but I’d marry you if you weren’t such a man,” Namjoon joked, playfully flirting which Jungkook just laughed off.

“Too bad you’re not my type,” Jungkook patted his shoulder apologetically, “Besides, where is the bride?”

“Getting her hair done for tonight,” Namjoon said as they got into a Bentley Mulssane, “Also, please drive, I’m scared.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook scoffed, taking the keys anyway, “If you hate driving so much why buy an expensive car?”

“Yeonwoo liked the color,” Namjoon said as he got in the passenger’s seat of his own car, “Are you staying with your parents? I could still find you an apartment.”

“For a week? Don’t bother, I’m staying at a hotel,” Jungkook said, turning the engine on and driving out.

Namjoon sighed, “So you really are leaving again?”

“Was there ever a doubt I was?” Jungkook asked in surprise.

“Duh, kid. We miss you, you rarely call, you never visit, you barely respond and we know nothing that goes on with you,” Namjoon said, “I thought once you got your fill of life experiences, you’d come back.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything at that, sniffling uncomfortably as he tried switching the subject, “So, who’s my partner?”

This time Namjoon was the one to freeze up, staring out the window with sunglasses on and his jaw locked. With a shy smile, he asked, “Are you gonna bring a date?”

His brows furrowed as he looked at his friend, “Who’s the Maid of Honor?”

Namjoon released a nervous laugh, “Y/n L/n.”

The silence in the car was loud and from the way Jungkook’s jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed, it was easy to see he wasn’t happy about that. You? You were the Maid of Honor and his partner down the aisle?

“You know, her and Yeonwoo are close and Yeonwoo’s always thinking about who looks the best next to her on camera and obviously she’s gonna choose the runway model but listen,” Namjoon could barely catch a breath, “Y/n’s matured more now and she’s going to be there tonight so please be on your best behavior.”

“Tonight? What’s tonight?” Jungkook’s tone was sharper now and Namjoon huffed in annoyance.

“The rehearsal dinner on the pier, it was all in the catalog I sent you,” Namjoon said, “It’s for press. Our parents want to get it on Forbes and Vogue, they want to make it the Wedding of the Year.”

They both laughed at that and Jungkook sighed, “So there’s gonna be cameras?”

“Yeah but don’t worry they won’t focus on you,” Namjoon said with a smirk, “The attention’s going on me.”

When Jungkook pulled up to the hotel he would be staying at for the week, Namjoon left him to settle in with a promise that he would make it tonight so he had no choice not to. A letter from a close friend was sitting on the coffee table and he set his things down to get it.

It was a big envelope with a card and a few things rattling inside that made him curious. Jungkook turned the envelope down so the contents would fall onto his palm and a roll of condoms slipped out.

‘Welcome home buddy, enjoy the penthouse and may all your frustrations come undone — Jung Hoseok.’

The note itself made him scoff in disbelief. His womanizing friend making jokes before they’ve actually reunited. He left the things on the table and left to shower, doing what he could to make himself look presentable for tonight.

Tonight was the beginning of a soon-to-be hectic week of photoshoots, brunches, parties and finally the wedding. You were one of the ones front and center, never taking the limelight from the bride but carrying your own sense of grace that had people turning heads when you walked into a room—or in this case riverwalk.

You vowed to appear your best tonight and opted for a silk, powder blue Prada dress paired with Swarovski crystals on your neck. You did your part as Maid of Honor, directing all attention to your friend, polite smile and gentle assurance when needed in front of a crowd. Yeonwoo found it comical how well you fit into character when you need to.

“The perfect friend,” Yeonwoo joked as you dabbed smeared lip gloss from her lips, “What would I do without you?”

“Oh, I hope you never have to find out,” You said in a gentle voice that feigned innocence and longing. Yeonwoo laughed as she was called toward other people and you let her go as you found the nearest server holding a glass of champagne. You took a glass, turning toward the railing overlooking the shore, tipping your glass back and chugging as much of the drink as possible.

“So this is where the Maid of Honor will be spending her night?” A familiar deep voice spoke up from behind you and a mischievous smile grew on your face. You set the glass down, straightened your posture and turned to him with a soft gaze.

“Now you know that’s not fair, Joon, I’ve been with Yeonwoo most of the night,” you told him, already motioning for another server to give you a glass, completely ignoring the man standing beside him.

“I believe you, darling, now why don’t you come say hi to the Best Man,” Namjoon pushed Jungkook forward who just glared at him in response, “You remember Jeon Jungkook, right?”

“It’s been two years, not ten,” You said, finally looking at Jungkook with a glimmer of annoyance in your eyes, matched by his stare of unamusement.

“Alright well why don’t you two get reacquainted while I search for the gorgeous love of my life,” Namjoon said, making his escape as quick as possible.

“You counted?” Jungkook asked, taking just one step toward you, trying to stop his eyes from trailing down your figure.

“Of course,” You said sarcastically, “I’ve just missed you so.”

He couldn’t stop the roll of his eyes as he turned to the water, “You knew we were partners?”

“Obviously, I know everything,” you said with a scoff that had his tongue pressing against his cheek, clearly annoyed, “Like how you’re staying at one of the Jung’s hotels instead of home. How you plan on leaving still, where you landed, how long you’ve been her—“

“So you’re stalking me?” Jungkook asked, only half joking.

“Don’t you wish,” you laughed, “You’re all over the news.”

His smile dropped. When he had nothing to say, you grew bored and left him behind, making sure to lightly graze your fingers against his arm as you said, “And just remember, you’re the one who despises me, not the other way around.”

With that, you left without looking back and he was left watching the sway of your hips when you walked away.

Money rules the world, even when people want to say it doesn’t. The people who have it are living the dream and the ones who don’t, want the dream. It doesn’t even have to be the luxurious wonders of the world, it could be as little as financial stability or surviving. At the end of the day, it was a Rich Man’s world and this group of individuals were born lucky.

First, the groom: Kim Namjoon. The man with it all, the money, the family, the education, son of millionaires with three hospitals in their name and a line of pharmacies all across the globe.

The bride: soon-to-be, Kim Yeonwoo. The heiress to half a dozen airlines, an airport funded by her family for decades and a beautiful island in her name off the coast.

Kim Seokjin, practically a prince, generations worth of politicians, the highest education and a trust fund worth millions. He was the one you’ll see with the president or in Australia, golfing with men in charge.

Jung Hoseok, the hotel heir to a chain of ten thousand hotels across the globe. He was the one you’ll most likely catch partying in Venice with a princess whose name he couldn’t actually remember—or maybe giving a waitress the night of her life.

Min Yoongi, eldest son of an elite banking firm formed a hundred years ago. He was private about his life, similar to Jungkook, he only came out when he was summoned by one of the others.

Kim Taehyung was wild as Hoseok but more quiet about it. He’ll soon be heir of the billion dollar empire his family built in the Art world of museums and curations and performing arts.

Now, Jungkook’s story was a bit different from the others. His family worked in land development, most of the country being built on the backs of the Jeon’s who brought cities to rural areas and avoided the public’s eye.

They had the kind of old money that everyone knew, even when they tried to stay out of the news.

It was the kind of old money, people could never stop talking about and you understood what that meant most.

There was a mystery to the fortune of your family, it was old money, so old nobody knew where it came from. Some say oil, some claim aristocrats but it was too far back, and too private for any to know. All the public knew were the generous and loving philanthropists and their perfect daughter, the Nation’s Sweetheart, you.

You really were loved by all, the camera, the press, everyone. They all saw the kind, innocent girl in the public’s eye but only a few saw the snotty, spoiled and downright disrespectful side of you that was real.

Where Jungkook craved independence and isolation from his family name, you soaked in it. The attention. The money. The dependence, you were the complete opposite of him and it drew him insane.

One might ask why he was around you if he really did despise you, but for a long time it wasn’t up to him. The group didn’t all become friends one magical night when you compared your family’s net worth.

No, this bond had grown between galas, private academies, horse riding lessons at the country club and family businesses. It was a very elite, classist society where only the ultra rich could really only trust in each other and keep a country afloat off of it.

Do you think Namjoon would have been allowed to marry Yeonwoo if her parents weren’t as rich as they were?

Do you think Seokjin would have married his wife that he met at Oxford if her family hadn’t been international shipping magnates?

It was like a spider web, they were all connected in some way, all controlled and that’s what Jungkook hated.

He loved his friends, truly, but he hated the control. Not a single one of them had real freedom and every little thing they did came with a price and he couldn’t live that way anymore. He understood his own privilege and how lucky he was to grow up in such a way but he knew there was more to life than just that. When he left home for the first time, he didn’t expect to feel so free. It was like a sense of independence he’s not sure any of his friends have felt and now that he’s back he’s reminded once again of how suffocating it all is.

There had to be at least a hundred guests in attendance tonight and he couldn’t find a moment of silence. The suit he wore felt uncomfortable and he hated the way it seemed to confine him, make him more rigid and stiff.

“Please Jungkook, I was only being funny. Did it bother you that much?” Hoseok asked with a tinge of mischief in his voice.

“No,” Jungkook shrugged as he looked around the banquet hall, “I just found it unnecessary.”

“Really? I would’ve assumed the opposite considering you’ll be spending a lot of time with Y/n this week,” Taehyung said with a shrug as the three of them stood off to the side, talking amongst themselves as the guests of the charity banquet focused on your parents who stood on stage making some speech about the importance of giving.

As if on cue, the spotlight turned toward you where you smiled politely and acted shyly for the cameras.

A scoff left his lips as he pulled his gaze away from you, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hoseok chuckled, “Oh come on man, everyone knows you have a thing for her—you’re really bad at hiding it.”

With a roll of his eyes, Jungkook stepped away from his friends, “You guys don’t know anything.”

He didn’t have a thing for you.

Sure, you’ve known each other for a long time but that means nothing. He’s known them all for a long time and if anything he's made his distaste toward you pretty evident. When you were younger it was only because you were so spoiled and the attention had to always be on you. He hated watching everyone fall for your sweetness and do whatever you asked of them. He almost fell for it himself a couple times but then he would see the way you judged or looked down on people and he just despised you more.

There’s nothing about you that attracts him aside from your looks…

Tonight you were dressed more modestly in a Chanel sweater and skirt set that looked like you would soon be relaxing at the country club. You wore a black headband with a bow on it and satin gloves, looking as polite as ever while you talked to anyone who approached you.

You were the perfect, doting daughter and anyone with eyes could see that.

“So how mad are you?” Yeonwoo asked once you had settled back in your chair next to her and Namjoon. Even Namjoon seemed to listen in on the question, waiting to hear what you would say.

“What do I have to be mad at?” You asked with a tight smile as you reached toward her to fix a slight smudge on her cheek, “ Jungkook?”

“Well, we know you have some sort of disliking toward each other but…” Yeonwoo bit her lip nervously, “Joonie and Jungkook are really close.”

“We know you two don’t like each other but you should have expected this, right?” Namjoon chuckled nervously, “You’re both our best friends and…”

“Am I saying anything?” You asked.

They shared a look with each other, “I guess not.”

You smiled, “Okay, then let’s just make sure everything runs smoothly this week.”

You did in fact feel a type of way about Jeon Jungkook but you weren’t going to admit that right now surrounded by so many people always lingering around trying to listen. You’ve learned to be very careful about how you act in public and there’s no way your friends will get you to act out by asking about him.

Jungkook was not someone you wished to exhort so much energy on. He wasn’t worth anything to you and despite how many years you’ve known him, you’ve never wished to get to know him. You don’t care where he goes when he’s not home or who he talks to, nor what he does. He doesn’t cross your mind at all through your normal day to day and you surely weren’t going to let him in this week. All he has going for him is his money and his looks.

Ever since you learned he would be the Best Man you thought about what that would mean and accepted that he would be the one to walk with you down the aisle. Despite not being happy about it, you managed to hide your resentment quite well.

You know how he feels about you and over time that’s made you develop a disliking toward him which you find only fair. He might dislike you for being spoiled but you dislike him for being so entitled.

For some reason, he thinks distancing himself from this life means he’s better than everyone else and you hate that. He thinks that by moving away and making his own money suddenly makes him different than the rest of you but that’s not true. He just wants to act like he’s self made so he can feel superior to all of you trust fund babies and that is what annoyed you.

After some time third wheeling, you were getting tired and slightly annoyed watching the couple act lovey dovey. You hated couples, they grossed you out even if they were your best friends.

“Mind if I keep you company? You look like you need it.”

With a furrow in your brows, you turned to face the person who felt the need to whisper in your ear and get close to you without permission. A smile spread across your lips at the man standing directly behind you, his arm draping over your front and hugging you.

“Hello, darling, I’ve missed you,” Jimin’s voice was soft yet sultry and you gave each other kisses on the cheek in greeting as he moved to the empty seat beside you.

“I didn’t realize you were back,” You said to him, “How was Paris?”

He released a sigh, “Oh the usual, shopping… a few events here and there.”

“Mhm, and when’d you get back?” You asked, now intrigued by his presence.

“Just last night. I was planning on visiting you earlier but things came up,” Jimin said, adjusting the Swiss watch on his wrist, admiring the shine, “What has happened since I was gone?”

“Oh God, he’s back,” Hoseok rolled his eyes from across the room, “I ran into him in Marseille the other day and the guy wanted to act like he didn’t know me.”

“He’s been insufferable since Uni,” Taehyung muttered under his breath, “I don’t understand why Y/n puts up with him.”

“Who?” Jungkook asked, only half curious. He hadn’t been paying attention until he heard your name and his reason for hearing it was purely coincidental.

“Park Jimin,” Hoseok clarified, making Jungkook look closer at the man who sat very close to you, making you smile and touch his arms when you spoke.

“Am I supposed to know who that is?” Jungkook seemed indifferent as he looked down at his glass of champagne, trying to resist the urge to look back at you.

“Not at all,” Taehyung said, “He’s just some guy we went to Uni with here. I don’t know how he met Y/n though, probably at some shitty party but he’s nobody that matters.”

Well… Park Jimin was the son of starlets. His great grandmother, his grandmother was an actress, his mother was an actress and he’s been in a few independent films here and there. He spends most of his time sailing on yachts or speaking of the Cannes Film Festival. He’s insanely rich, but he’s still not rich enough despite his accumulated generational wealth.

Unlike Jungkook’s wealth which held actual value especially in real estate, Jimin’s just didn’t compare to his or any of his friends for that matter. So why did you seem captivated by him?

He is aware he shouldn’t think this way, it’s only him reverting back to his old self which was all arrogance and entitlement. He shouldn’t think about how much wealthier he was compared to Jimin.

Unfortunately, Jungkook couldn’t seem to drag his gaze away from the pair as he tipped his champagne glass back, liquid pouring down his throat.

“Do you think she’ll take him to the wedding? I doubt Namjoon or Yeonwoo would ever invite him themselves,” Hoseok said and the three seemed like a group of gossips, the way they huddled around each other.

In Jungkook’s defense, he was barely listening to his friends. He was too busy watching the interaction happening not far from where he stood, eyes narrowed trying to understand what was happening.

First, he didn’t like you. He found you unbearable and you were the epitome of everything he hated about the High Society he had been raised in.

Second, he was only looking because you were next to his best friends. Maybe he wanted to see how in love Namjoon and Yeonwoo were but he couldn’t see because of you and your… friend.

Third, he wanted to know how you managed to stand out in your outfit despite the room being filled with people in extravagant clothes.

“I’m not sure, actually, rumors say she might,” Taehyung said and Jungkook couldn’t help but look over.

“What?”

“We’re just wondering if the Maid of Honor would bring her little boy toy to the wedding,” Hoseok said, looking at Jungkook as his jaw tensed, “What do you think?”

“I don’t care if Y/n brings anyone, we’re just dates for the pictures and ceremony,” Jungkook said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“So are you going to take a date too then?” Taehyung asked.

“Maybe,” Jungkook said as a server came around holding a tray of champagne glasses and he switched his empty one out for a full one. He didn’t bother to look back at his friends as he began walking away, “I’ll be back.”

“It’s so hard for him to act like he doesn’t care.”

“Kook! Come here, man,” Namjoon said with a wide grin as he saw his best friend walking by them. Jungkook didn’t bother glancing down at you as he greeted his friend.

“Kooky, I haven’t seen you all night,” Yeonwoo stood up to hug him, “Please don’t seduce my future husband, everyone has already RSVP’d.”

“Oh Yeonie,” Jungkook softly caressed her cheek, tipping her chin up to look at him, “If I wanted him, I would have had him by now.”

“Joon!” Yeonwoo whined clinging to Namjoon who just winked at Jungkook, further amplifying his fiancé’s feigned sobs. Jungkook smiled watching her squirm and without him meaning to, he let his gaze fall toward you.

“Y/n.”

You met his intense stare with your own and you could hear Jimin say he was going to get a drink but you didn’t look at him. You looked down at what Jungkook was wearing—a plain black Prada suit, how boring. “Jungkook.”

“Is that who you’re bringing to the wedding?” Jungkook asked, looking back at the infamous Park Jimin who stood with Taehyung and Hoseok, all three of them pretending to enjoy each other’s company.

“Maybe, we do get along very well,” you said with a sly smile as you stood up, not yet reaching Jungkook’s height but he didn’t intimidate you, “Is that a problem?

“No,” Jungkook said, voice low and deep, “I was just curious.”

“And why were you curious?” You asked, a mocking tone in your voice that he didn’t like, “Do tell me, how often are you curious about what I do?”

A scoff left his lips as he looked away from you first, “It was just a question, don’t get ahead of yourself and think you matter to me more than you do.”

An evident pout appeared on your lips and for a second his expression changed with worry but the moment was fleeting. You just laughed [giggled, actually] and with a gentle touch to his arm, said, “No need to lie to yourself.”

His eyes narrowed, anger bubbling up inside him when he heard a shutter of cameras going off, flash in his face and without thinking, he took your hand in his and left.

“If you plan on kidnapping me, it won’t work,” You said teasingly as you left to some dark corner behind large pillars.

“I’m not going to put up with a week of your games,” Jungkook said as he let go of your hand, missing the way your eyes fell to the black ink on his knuckles—something you had never noticed before, not even on the yacht when it was dark out.

“Then stop playing into them,” you said with a laugh, “If I drive you crazy, why bother talking to me at all? I think we’re both very capable of ignoring each other enough to not have to say a single word.”

“What I mean is, you can put on this act of yours for the cameras but don’t drag me into it,” Jungkook told you, ignoring the idea you had thrown out there. He was referring to your strange smiles and touches you give him when in the public.

“I’m not dragging you into anything,” You rolled your eyes, “And you seem to forget all eyes have been on you since you got back—heir to the Jeon Corporation. What do you think people will say when they find out you dragged me out here all alone? The Big, Bad & Rebellious Jeon Jungkook and The Nation’s Sweetheart, me.”

His eyes shut with a hint of anger that he tried to subdue, “Sweetheart?”

“That’s what I said,” you smiled sweetly to prove your point making him scoff.

“You’re not a sweetheart, you’re a spoiled brat,” Jungkook said, looking down at you in your pretty clothes with your pretty jewelry and your pretty face.

“Nice of you to finally notice,” you said bitterly and with a roll of your eyes, you pushed into his shoulder on purpose as you walked past him, “But we’re all the same, aren’t we? Just some of us like to act all high and mighty because you leave home craving independence, ignoring your privilege to seem like better people.”

Jungkook felt the jab of your words but he let you walk past him without a rebuttal.

With a sense of frustration, he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to collect himself to rejoin High Society and finish the night with his head held high.

When Jungkook left his hotel the day of the Bachelor Party, he hadn’t been sure what to expect. Hoseok had done most of the planning for it since he had been abroad and when it comes to Hobi, you never know what to expect. It was almost two days of festivities and it was only toward the end that everyone would separate into their respective groups. That meant that once again he was forced into the same place as you.

The yacht sailed toward the private island the events would be at and as big as it was, he couldn’t escape you. There were the main group of friends that were always together and a few added guests, mostly Yeonwoo’s friends. Hoseok had already been hyping up the party tonight more than anything and everytime Namjoon would grow more worried. He didn’t need a big party thrown by his notorious womanizing friend.

“So what do the girls have planned?” Jungkook asked Namjoon as they sat at a table, looking at everyone aboard. Some people wore little clothing, others casual clothes, you wore something in between. It was casual yet attractive.

“ I don’t know, something probably calmer than what Hobi’s got for us,” Namjoon said but his friend had tuned him out after the first part, “Y/n planned it all and leant us the Yacht for the guests.”

“The yacht?” Jungkook asked, looking around at the luxury super yacht.

“14.7 million dollar yacht for Y/n’s birthday last year,” Namjoon explained to Jungkook, “She wanted a Booze Cruise.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but scoff, “So Y/n got a yacht?”

“It comes in handy, doesn’t it?” A soft voice spoke from behind him and his breath hitched. You looked over to Namjoon, “Yeonie is looking for you.”

“The wife calls,” Namjoon said with a cheesy smile as he left you two behind.

“So, are you ready to go party with Hobi tonight?” You asked with a laugh, “I heard he’s got some former Miss Universe models coming in.”

“Oh, fun,” Jungkook said, slightly sarcastic.

“Kook, you’re not old enough to not like partying with models,” You teased making him look over at you. For a moment he wondered if what you said had a double meaning considering you were a model but he didn’t want to speak up about it.

“I’m sorry, I’m not a party animal,” Jungkook said truthfully, only a hint of joking as he looked around at the packed floor, “I think even this is too much.”

“Wow, how could you be a former Socialite if you don’t like partying?” You asked, “Is it all that time in the jungle or desert you spent alone that changed you?”

Jungkook could hear the sarcasm in your tone but he knew it wasn’t in an offensive way. He had backpacked to a small village in Indonesia for a few weeks before leaving to Nevada or Dubai—and he hated that you knew it all. He enjoyed traveling alone and experiencing things alone; he doesn’t need parties with too loud of music or too many drunks. He’s like Namjoon, they want to celebrate with their small group of friends rather than a party full of strangers who don’t even know what the occasion is.

“It might’ve,” Jungkook said, clearing his throat and checked the time.

You didn’t say much else after that and he got the impression that you grew bored talking to him. He looked at you still waiting to see if you would say something else but instead, you just looked off into the distance, not bothering to hide the sudden boredom you must have felt.

He’s sure he could have found something else to say to you but it was no use when he could see you beginning to slip away when you looked down at your cellphone with a bright smile. You didn’t utter out a goodbye as you left him behind to answer your phone, “Chimmy, I’ve missed you. How’s Morocco?”

“Warm,” Jimin said, “I’ve just finished a shoot and I believe I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Oh I won’t be home, remember?” You said as the final thing Jungkook was able to hear from you before you walked away.

Jungkook couldn’t help but look after you, thinking about who might’ve called you and how things were handled and he had to be honest, he was curious. He wasn’t attracted to you but he found you attractive… He thought you were charming and charismatic but not enough for him to want you, maybe…

The two of you just seem so different. He’s seen as the Black Sheep of the group, not because he’s not wealthy or attractive but because his past decisions have apparently been awful ones.

He was never one for parties so he wasn’t wild and defiant. He did make a declaration to leave all the money behind and pursue his dreams—something rich people were not allowed to do. Especially not if you were next in line to inherit it all like Jungkook was.

You are more free than he is and yet you like being in your bubble. You like the glamor and the responsibilities because unlike him, you know how to play both sides. Do your parents care that you’re out wasted at European raves or sailing on your yacht with a foreign prince? No, why? Because you know how to act like the innocent, perfect princess you’re supposed to be.

Jungkook can’t pretend that well. He can’t hide his tattoos or piercings or signs of nonconformity.

So, yes, he finds you attractive but he can’t let himself fall for you when he thinks you’re too different from each other. It just doesn’t stop his brain from thinking about you though.

“Have you seen Y/n?” Jungkook asked Taehyung who had been sandwiched between two women he couldn’t name.

Taehyung, evidently drunk, shook his head no, “Are you ready to confess your undying love for her?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, scoffing as he said, “Fuck off.”

All Taehyung did was laugh, making the girls he had his arms around laugh too and Jungkook left feeling annoyed. He was just curious to know where you were, that’s all. Namjoon and Yeonwoo are busy making their rounds, greeting and thanking everyone on the boat and his other friends were off doing their own things. He’s already spent too much time sulking by the railing, staring down at the dark blue water that he can’t take it anymore. He doesn’t want to drink to the point that he’s drunk so really, his last hope is you.

“Have you seen Y/n?” Jungkook asked as he went to the rooftop where Hoseok was sitting in a hot tub full of strangers. Hoseok looked like such an asshole [something Jungkook had permission to say] with his designer sunglasses and Vacheron Constantin watch, just barely above the water surface.

Hoseok barely glanced his way as he said, “I don’t know, check downstairs.”

That was all Jungkook needed to know before he was heading down to find you. It took a while of asking any person he passed by, where you might be and through all this, he couldn’t remember why he was looking for you in the first place.

He had no idea where he was going, he just found himself walking down what felt like endless corridors of rooms, following the directions of whatever housekeeper he could find. The boat really was big, and he couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that this was a simple birthday present.

“Now, who do we have here?” You looked down the empty hallway toward the man in front of you. It pained you to see just how attractive Jeon Jungkook really was.

You have to admit, he really knows how to dress for occasions. The rare times he’s photographed in some news article, he’s dressed casually, clearly trying to hide from the public eye but now that he’s back it seems his fashion has picked up. He wore a striped black flannel Dolce & Gabbana shirt tucked into cream colored slacks, and matching velvet black slippers from their newest collection.

“I’m just… wandering,” Jungkook cleared his throat, whatever excuse he had made up earlier, completely out of mind, “What happened to your dress?”

A large red stain adorned the front of your pink dress from the chest down your torso. You looked down at the stain with a roll of your eyes, “Some stupid bitch worker. She’s off the boat tomorrow.”

Jungkook widened his eyes, feeling you brush past him and down the hall, “So you’re firing someone for spilling a drink?”

“Um, this is Valento? Do you know how hard it is to get rid of a stain like this?” You asked with a slight scoff as you went to the door straight at the end, pushing your key card in to open it, “It took the dry cleaners ages last time.”

“I didn’t take you as an Outfit Repeater to be worrying about things like that,” he stopped at the door, already looking around at what was evidently the master cabin. The water out the windows was a dark, midnight blue and it reflected into the room of silver and gray. It had a walk-in closet, and king sized bed with a view of the open water and a private deck. He didn’t dare go in and put himself in personal quarters with you.

You gasped, stopping your movements of rummaging through your closet to say, “I am an environmentalist.”

He couldn’t tell if you were being serious or not and he had to fight back a grin at how un-woke you sounded considering you were ruining the planet with a private yacht of this size.

You pulled out an off-white dress, a Jaquemus piece, ‘La Robe Artichaut’, “Ugh, after this week, I am firing a lot of people.”

“What happened this time?” Jungkook asked, leaning against the doorframe watching you, waiting for you to kick him out but you just went toward the windows overlooking the dark blue ocean. As much as you claimed to not get along, you talked like old friends.

You reached your hands toward your back, attempting to undo the back of your dress on your own, “I told my assistant not to pack anything close to white and she packs this dress? I swear people can’t do anything right.”

“If people ask just say you’re supposed to match me,” Jungkook said referring to his slacks, “Yeonie won’t be mad her Maid of Honor is wearing off-white.”

“I guess,” you sighed, letting go of your dress and not bothering to look back at him as you said, “Undo the back.”

Jungkook stood silently at the door, staring at you with dark eyes. The fabric of your dress was thin and soft to the touch—he could just tell with the way your figure had so effortlessly shaped the dress. It is a real pity you had to change out of it, he’ll admit that, but now he’s been asked—no, demanded—to help you to take it off.

He has no idea why you think you could just boss him around but this seems to have always been the case. The two of you were never close in the past but the very few times you would run into each other… as much as he hated it, there was always some sort of tension there.

With your back to him, you hadn’t seen the way he silently made his way across the room, shutting the door behind him as he went right to you. You could sense his presence behind you, see his reflection in the dark window and feel his rough fingers brush against your back.

“I meant to tell you, I like your shoes,” You said casually, his fingers beginning to work the knot that tied the ribbon of your dress, “My friend wore them in Paris just a week ago.”

“Friend?” Jungkook raised a brow curiously, his eyes trained slowly on the ribbon he was ever so slowly pulling loose. His gaze shifted to your reflection in the window as he pulled a little rougher than earlier, “Is this the one you’re always running off on the phone with?”

“You mean Park Jimin?” You asked, not bothering to react at all to his roughness or his speed, “Yes, him.”

You could feel Jungkook’s deep exhale as he pulled it as loose as he could while still being appropriate, “Are you seeing him?”

A mischievous smile couldn’t help but make its way to your face as you turned to face him, holding your arms around yourself modestly, “Is that what you wanted to talk about all along? You could have asked me earlier instead of spending who knows how long looking for me.”

He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself agreeing with you, and with a tense jaw he asked again, “Well, are you?”

“I’m going to get changed,” you motioned toward the door, telling him to leave, “Unless you want to help me with that too.”

A scoff left his lips as he took a step back, annoyed that you wouldn’t just answer his question and annoyed he even cared enough to ask. What did it matter to Jungkook if you took a date? He wasn’t in a relationship with you and he barely considered you a friend.

When he wasn’t here and he was traveling, he was perfectly fine not knowing a thing about you aside from whatever article or magazine you appeared in. Why now that he returns and he sees how… glamorously beautiful you are, is he curious about you?

“And just so we’re clear, no, I’m not seeing Jimin,” You told him as he walked toward the door, stopping midway to listen to you, “Because I know it would make you jealous.”

To be honest, you didn’t think he would actually be jealous, it’s just a joke. Something about you just gets under Jungkook’s skin and it wants you to push his buttons that much more. As obvious as it was that he wasn’t at all amused by your sweetness, it was your arrogant charm that seemed to get him every time.

You knew you were beautiful, you knew you had every right to be arrogant and as much as Jungkook could deny he’s attracted to you at all, it’s very noticeable. You’ve never been told no a day in your life. You’ve never been rejected either and you know Jungkook wouldn’t dare reject you if you actually went for it.

Despite how vocal he is about his distaste toward you, you can’t help but still get giddy in his presence. You just want to rile him up and know that he’s attainable to you. You’ve always had a thing for him, he was an absolute gorgeous man and he was wealthy, extremely wealthy. He was educated and had class but at the same time he was rugged and intimidating. You’ve seen the small glimpses of ink on his knuckles and you just know that under all his long sleeves, he had more to show.

Whether you felt seriously for him or if you just figured it’s a spur of the moment situation, you want him.

“Jealous?” Jungkook attempted to scoff but the word caught in his throat with some truth to it, “Why would I be jealous?”

“I don’t know,” You shrugged, sliding the strap of your down your shoulder, “Because then you would have to share my attention with someone else.”

Jungkook knows he should leave. You had asked him to leave yet you kept going back and forth, and it was stopping him from doing so.

He should go.

He needs to go before he does or say something he’ll regret.

If he caves in to your taunts then he’ll be disappointed in himself, like part of him was allowing his return to his old lifestyle of luxury and privilege.

“Y/n, you always say things you don’t know,” Jungkook asked you with a deep voice that had you smiling, practically feeling him give in. His gaze was dark and there was no hiding the growing tension, “And you must think you’re real cute trying to act out now that we’re alone.”

“No, I know I am,” you said, not backing away from the eye contact. “And you know it too.”

“I don’t,” Jungkook loomed over you, eyes tracing down the curve of your nose and to the slight part in your lips, “I think… I think you’re…”

You blinked up at him, “Well say it, or are you too busy thinking about kissing me?”

An annoyed huff left his lips as one of his hands pulled you toward him at your waist and the other tilted your chin up until his lips were grazing over yours. You reached toward him, making the first real press of your mouths together and there was no use in acting like he hadn’t been in fact thinking about kissing you.

Jungkook let his eyes fall shut as yours did and he pulled you closer into his chest with the hand on your jaw sliding down toward the curve of your neck, making sure you didn’t pull away just yet. You kept up with the pace he had set of slow yet hungry kisses, pulling on your lips or letting his tongue slide against yours tenderly.

“Well?” You gasped feeling his soft lips kiss along your jaw, his soft black hair brushing against your face, a light scent of his shampoo or cologne that left you feeling intoxicated. The hand he had on your waist tightened at your words, pulling away with a quiet grunt, he looked you in the eye.

“Don’t ask me any more questions,” Jungkook groaned, the taste of your lips still on his tongue and there was a light sheen of gloss coating his lips from yours.

It’s shameful for him to admit how easy it was for you to break him down into every other man who seems to fall at your feet when given the chance. This is exactly what he didn’t want and now he’s pulling the godforsaken stained dress he undid and watching it slip down your body, revealing your naked form to his hungry eyes.

Above your bedroom was a deck filled with people celebrating the soon-to-be newlyweds while the Best Man and Maid of Honor are in the master cabin, half undressed, and stumbling onto the bed.

Jungkook was gentle but firm, he wasted no time popping the buttons of his shirt open, exposing the toned muscles of his body and the ink covering most of his arm. Your eyes scanned the markings, surprise and wonder evident on your face with how well he managed to hide how much he’s gotten done since he left.

“Surprised?” Jungkook asked, eyes low when your hands ran over his slacks, pulling at his belt and nails lightly scratching at his abdomen. His voice dripped with arousal when you sat up from beneath him, pressing light butterfly kisses to his abs and tattoos.

“You always surprise me,” You admitted, not as teasing as before but with a hint of playfulness still there. You looked up from his chest, the height of your sitting form and his standing one looked endless as he towered over you. “For instance, I didn’t think it would be this easy to get you in my bed.”

You kissed along his neck now, sitting on your knees to reach him better and nipping at his sensitive spots. His hand tightened around the neck of your head, not pulling your hair but definitely getting your eyes on his, “Why do your words sound so dirty when you say them so… “

Jungkook couldn’t even finish his sentence before succumbing to you once more and kissing your lips. With little force applied, he was laying you back down on the bed with his tattooed and muscular body just melting into yours effortlessly. With one hand on your neck and the other sliding down to the curve of your thigh, it felt like he was all over you.

“Let’s take this off you,” Jungkook murmured between kisses down your neck as he began to finally take off the ruined dress that had been in his way since you got him to undo it in the first place, “You’ve been teasing me with this since earlier.”

“Maybe because I wanted to see you get worked up,” you sighed as you made yourself comfortable on the king side bed, your body slowly unveiled to his hungry eyes. Once he had pulled the dress off you completely and threw it to the side, sitting up between your spread legs and staring.

Jungkook didn’t bother with discreteness as he eyed down your naked body still in shock that he was seeing it before him. Your breasts were on full display and the only piece of fabric hiding you was a thin lace underwear that felt so nimble and soft under his fingertips, so easy for him to just tear off of you. You looked gorgeous laying so pliantly underneath him and he couldn’t help but let his hands slide down from your bent knees to your inner thighs.

“Did it work?” You asked just above a whisper as he hovered over you, leaving needy kisses between your breasts while he tugged at the hem of your panties until he was sliding them down your legs.

“It really fucking worked,” Jungkook groaned as he cupped your boobs in his hands, letting his tongue lick at your pert nipples and feeling the way they stiffened underneath him. Your hands went to his hair, legs nearly wrapping around his torso when you felt his teeth lightly press into your nipple, sucking and tugging when needed.

His kisses began to run down toward your navel with his hands replacing his lips and kneading your breasts in the palm of them while he moved down to lay between your legs, “I want a taste, pretty girl.”

“Then get one,” you said in a whiny tone that had his big rounded eyes turning to look at you with surprise. A knowing smirk falling on his lips as he lifted your knees and pulled your thighs apart as far as they could go until he was eye level with your pretty cunt. Jungkook was never one to stop and tease when he needed sex, he had a tendency to get a little rough and take what he wants but it’s so hard to move it along when he’s met with the sight of you laying so pretty for him. He could tell your patience was running thin with how long he was taking to do anything and just before he felt you close to snapping at him, he leaned into you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped in surprise with the sudden swipe at your clit by Jungkook’a flattened, long tongue and you’ll admit it caused goosebumps to form on your skin. You couldn’t see the way he smiled as his hands circled around your thighs, repeating his teasing flick of his tongue, feeling the way your folds began to react to him.

He felt your fingers run through his soft hair for anchor and for some reason that slight grip you had on him had his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he let himself get lost in the taste of your pussy. No longer up for any sense of teasing, Jungkook lets his mouth fall open, kissing your wet heat with his tongue pressing between your folds and finding your clit. Your hips were slowly bucking into his face, showing him just how much you liked his tongue and he knew just what to do to have you coming undone underneath him.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, his lips wrapped around the hard bud while his tongue swiped against the tip of it. He began a repetition of that and grazing his teeth ever so softly against your sensitive folds knowing he found your weak spot when he sucked your labia into his mouth and had your soft moans filling the cabin.

“Jungkook,” you moaned softly, fingers tugging at his hair roughly, “Oh god.”

He didn’t dare pull his mouth off you to give you a response and instead let his actions grow rougher. He unwrapped a hand from around your thigh and slipped it down to your pussy where he let his finger begin to draw patterns into your labia, so close to your entrance that he could feel your arousal quite literally leak out of you.

Your body was filled by pleasure that Jungkook was bringing you and you couldn’t help but bring your free hand to your neglected chest, trying to fill the void that Jungkook’s hand had left as you groped your breasts. Jungkook looked up completely enamored with the way you played with yourself while he ate you out and without any second thoughts, he pressed his long middle finger into your waiting cunt.

“That’s it,” he whispered, pressing a light kiss along your pelvis, “Cum for me, darling.”

“Jungkook,” you whined as he pushed a second finger in, hooking them upwardward just past your pubic bone and finding that soft, spongy spot with ease. With the way your walls fluttered around his fingers, he knew you were close and all it took was his lips around your clit while thrusting into that pleasure spot of yours, for you to wrap your legs around his shoulders and shake with release, “Oh my god.”

“Mm,” Jungkook groaned with pleasure, feeling your arousal flood his fingers in your release. He looked down at his wet hand, bringing it to his lips where he licked off the release that threatened to drip down his forearm, “Sweet.”

You looked like a mess trying to catch your breath and come to understand what had just happened between you to think too long about the fact that he was pressing his fingers into your waiting mouth till you licked your own release off him. He lifted a brow as your tongue circled around his fingers while sucking on them with your cheeks hollowed in. It had his breath hitching, trying to pull his fingers back out before he came just from that and began to pull at his own pants.

“Condom?” He asked in an unusually low and raspy tone. You blinked, “It’s fine, I’m on the pill.”

He didn’t press for more as he kicked his slacks and briefs off, hard cock pointed up stiffly. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from it. You wanted to wrap your lips around him and take him deep in your mouth because his dick was surprisingly so fucking pretty you just needed it desperately.

With your mind decided, you attempted to sit up when he pushed you back down, cock in his hand as he gave himself a couple strokes to relieve some tension and pulled your legs apart, “I need you now.”

“Impatient, are we?” You asked with a laugh, making yourself relax when you felt his cock head brush against your exposed clit. Jungkook wasn’t paying attention to what you said as much as he was to the way his mushroom tip fit perfectly between your folds.

A soft gasp left your lips as he pushed it against your clit, playing with your labia and letting the clear liquid that dripped out of his tip, coat your clit.

“Fuck,” Jungkook took a deep breath as his cock nearly slipped inside of you, playing with your earlier release to cover his length in it, “Such a pretty pussy.”

With an annoyed roll of your eyes, you grew tired of his teasing and with a quick hook of your leg around his slim waist, you pushed his cock into you eliciting a deep groan [almost growl] to slip from his lips, “Fucking hell, Y/n.”

“You were taking too long,” you moaned, legs falling back again as you tried to ease the slight pain that came from his thick member entering your tight walls. Jungkook’s hair was brushing against your face as he looked down at the way you took him in, “I was trying to be gentle.”

“Did I ask you to be?” You asked with a scoff. Jungkook rolled his eyes, spreading his legs further apart and digging his knees into the bed for support as he covered you with his body, laying down to plant a quick kiss to your lips. “Brat.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” your manicured nails traced down his back until your hands were under his thighs as if ready to make him move on your own, “Are you going to fuck me yet?”

He couldn’t help but scoff in disbelief, an amused smile on his face and without saying a word, he pulled out until on his tip was past your ring of nerves, and suddenly pushed back in. Your lips fell open in a silent gasp as your eyes locked with his and he smirked.

“You need it that bad?” Jungkook asked as he pulled your legs up, pressing them toward your chest and holding them down with his arms as he kissed your neck, dragging his cock back out, “How bad?”

“Jungkook,” you groaned, trying to move your hips but in this position it was useless, “Start moving.”

“Make me,” he kissed the tip of your nose, slowly sliding himself back in just a little. You rolled your eyes, moving your hand to hide your face as you felt yourself getting annoyed.

Jungkook was smiling like this was all just so amusing to him and with his lip pulled between his teeth, he thrusted in with little restraint, starting a slow yet steady rhythm, “Don’t hide your face, darling. I wanna see the Y/n L/n moaning for me.”

“Fuck you,” you shook your head feeling your pussy tighten around him with your legs pulled to your chest unable to escape his thrusts that were becoming more rough by the second.

“Come on darling, you can do it,” Jungkook groaned, feeling like he was on cloud 9 from the way your pussy took him in. He doesn’t know how to explain it but he felt really fucking good right now. He’s not sure if it’s that he hasn’t had sex in a while, or if it had something to do with the fact that it was you, but he was fucking you with all his energy, letting himself relax and just feel good in the moment.

“Jungkook,” you moaned his name, hand slipping from your face so you could wrap it around his neck, “Kiss me.”

“Kiss?” He asked, out of breath as his rhythm faltered and without thinking, he let go of your legs and let them fall back onto the bed as he tilted your chin up with a hand to kiss you. He set his other hand down on the bed for support, getting lost between your lips and your tight pussy.

Jungkook’s tongue licked against yours swallowing your moans, “Y/n, it’s s’good.”

“Mhm,” you circled your legs around him, “Fuck.”

Jungkook kissed down your neck, hands sneaking down to your waist and with one swift movement, rolled onto his back with you on top. He needed a change of pace because if he kept going, he would cum sooner than he wanted to and he needed you to cum one more time for him so if that meant letting you get in top, he would.

And it had been such a good idea because the sight of you sitting on his cock, leaning back and placing your hands on his thighs instead of chest, made him more excited. Your knees dug into the bed and with your fingers scratching at his muscular thighs and raised your hips, lifting yourself off his cock before plunging him back in.

“Fucking hell,” Jungkook groaned throwing his head back into the pillows, a hand on your hip but not daring to take control, “That’s it darling, fuck yourself on my cock.”

“Jungkook,” the new position was having him reach newer parts inside you that had your thighs shaking, “I’m so close.”

“Take it,” Jungkook growled, holding you in place as he dug his feet into the mattress and began to fuck up into you, “Take my fucking dick, fuck.”

“Oh my god,” you fell forward, hands scratching at his chest, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten, “I—I can’t. Jungkook, baby, oh my—“

“Take it,” he groaned, grabbing your hips harshly and moving once again so he was on top, thrusting into you despite how hard it was getting to pull out of your tight walls, “Take it.”

“I—I,” your lips fell open in a loud cry, pinching his biceps for stability, and felt your walls come undone. For the second time in less than hour, your orgasm hit you hard. Jungkook released a string of grunts, feeling your pussy convulse around him and his cock was greeted with a flood of warmth that had his legs shaking, trying to support him but he couldn’t take it. He barely had time to slip out before he was letting go, his cum dribbling down to your thighs as he let out one final moan of your name.

His body seemed to collapse down next to yours, panting and out of breath, “Fuck.”

The two of you were a mess, sweaty and sore and all you wanted to do was lay down and possibly sleep but where you were did not go past you unnoticed. You searched around for your cellphone, knowing you set it down somewhere before trying to change and found it on your nightstand with six missed calls from the Bride-To-Be.

Jungkook took a deep breath, sitting up and looking down at the mess the two of you made on the bed. He got up, not bothering with covering himself up as he found a towel and tried cleaning himself off with it while you got on your phone.

“Duty calls,” you joked with a sigh as he came to your side and began to wipe down your thighs. Yeonwoo sent you a dozen messages talking about a midlife crisis of some sorts. You sat up carefully, thanking him for handing you your robe and you slipped it on.

“What happened?” Jungkook asked with an awkward clear of his throat as he began putting on his clothes again. He’ll admit he was taking his time getting dressed and you left to the bathroom to freshen up.

“I don’t know, something with the gift boxes for everyone. I think Yeonie’s assistant forgot them,” you told him as you found new underwear to wear, making sure you were cleaned before putting them on. You left the door to the bathroom open to talk to him but you still changed into the white Jacquemus dress from earlier.

You walked up to him and he got the memo about zipping your back up and this time he couldn’t help but lean down to press a kiss to your shoulder blade, “Are you going up yet?”

“I’m gonna touch up my makeup first,” you told him honestly, “You go ahead.”

When Jungkook reached upstairs again, finding the party just as he left it earlier, it’s like nobody noticed he had even left for so long. They were all too focused on your new dress — which Yeonwoo absolutely adored on you. He found a glass of champagne and tried to escape from the swarm of people trying to hold a conversation with him when he wasn’t thinking clearly at all.

Unfortunately for the two of you, the matching off-white shade of your clothing and the sudden mark on his neck wasn’t lost on anyone else. Soon, pictures from every angle possible would paint a story neither of you wanted.

There was a sense of guilt that came with disassociating yourself from your best friend’s wedding plans. Jungkook could barely remember what they had done once they got to the island after a surprising night of visiting your cabin.

He hasn’t had an actual conversation with you since that night and he has to be honest and say, he barely remembers the actual wedding. He hadn’t seen you since the yacht before being dragged away by Hoseok the following day to do some activities for Namjoon’s groomsmen. You had gone to do your Maid of Honor duties and he’s felt out-of-loop since.

The entire day had been packed with things to do and he’s aware he looked dashing in every photo the photographers took of him in his 12,000$ Kiton suit. The matching suits they all wore made the groomsmen look classy and cohesive while the Balmain dresses the bridesmaids wore made them elegant and surreal—well at least for you.

That’s what he thinks is the problem.

His best friends got married and yet all he was able to think about was you. It didn’t help that despite the wedding being on a private island, there was still press everywhere, capturing every angle of this beautiful matrimony between nepo babies.

The reception had been filled with various questions from various interviewers that left all your shared friends staring at you suspiciously—especially when questions of the hickey on his neck came forward.

As awful as it sounded considering the 46 million dollar wedding in the mountains of an island was stunning, he could barely remember half of what hadn’t been photographed. He left the day after the wedding with an excuse that he had things to take care of where he’s currently at and his friends bid him farewell.

He got to the mainland a day before the others and it gave him time to return home before he left on another voyage alone.

“How was the wedding?” His older brother asked, swinging his mallet just slightly, trying to find his nail before shooting the ball through the hoop, “I can't believe I was caught up in meetings all week in Tokyo.”

Jungkook looked oddly bright today compared to how he felt and he didn’t want to say it was because his casual and boring clothes he wore abroad stuck out here in ways he didn’t like. That’s why today—his last day home—he visited his family’s 150 acre estate for a game of Croquet and possibly tennis, wearing a matcha colored Loro Piana cashmere polo with short sleeves.

“Um, it was great,” Jungkook said as he brought his cigarette to his lips and lighting the end before inhaling.

“That’s it?” JungHyun asked with a scoff as he motioned for Jungkook to take his turn and he took his brother’s cigarette, “Did you have an orgy with any models or were you your usual gentleman self that won the crowd against me?”

His older brother had been well known in his younger days for many reasons, his partying, his charm, his youth and education. When he was in his mid twenties, you could always catch him in some article their parents tried taking down in regards to driving under the influence or insulting a server. Unlike Jungkook who preferred a quiet life he could escape to, his brother did not and now he’s some big shot finance guy because his attitude growing up had ruined his chance of inheriting everything from their grandparents. Now it will all go to Jungkook—something they’re all aware of—and maybe that’s why JungHyun makes snide remarks here and there.

He’s not asking about the wedding because he’s curious, he’s bitter that despite his perfect appearance and Jungkook’s more intimidating kind, Jungkook was still the most well-mannered of the two and therefore the favorite—if only he stayed and fulfilled his duties.

“No orgy,” Jungkook said with a hint of disgust as he finished his round of the game, one step closer to winning, “Just Y/n.”

JungHyun had been mid-swing when he mentioned you and his aim went astray making him miss the next ring, “What do you mean just Y/n?”

“I slept with her—“

A loud and annoying laugh cut him off as JungHyun let his mallet go, “Ah, so you can’t remember the events of your best friend’s wedding because you were too busy sleeping with the nation’s sweetheart? Oh I cannot wait till father hears about this, maybe your wedding is next and then you’ll finally step up to the plate.”

Jungkook scoffed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means now that you’re back, and dating the richest girl in the country, there’s no way Father won’t hand you down the company now,” JungHyun said bitterly, “And everyone said you running away would be a bad thing, but clearly it’s reminded you of who you are.”

“I’m not… I’m not staying,” Jungkook said, “I leave tomorrow but I wanted to see you all. And Y/n and I aren’t going to date, it was a… um.”

“Mistake?” JungHyun asked, “Jungkook, don’t be an idiot. You’ve been obsessed with her for years.”

“I have not.”

“You have, you just don’t want to admit that all your talk about being independent and leaving the money behind to be free was complete bullshit,” JungHyun said with a scoff, “Or why would you mess around with her of all people. A relationship with Y/n is going to put you at the top once again and there’s nothing that won’t be handed to you—and she’s someone mother would approve.”

“You’re dramatic,” Jungkook huffed, “One night doesn’t mean we’re dating or getting married or any of that other shit. I still don’t want to run the business… I just want, I don’t know.”

“Yeah, you never know what you want,” JungHyun said, “But whatever, if you’re set on running away again, so be it. I’m tired of trying to make you see how you blindly follow along with everything you seem to hate.”

“Master, your wife is on line three and she’s wondering who is picking up the kids.”

“Fuck, I don’t know,” JungHyun groaned, annoyed and no longer interested in talking to his little brother, “The driver?”

Jungkook watched his brother leave him behind and with a defeated sigh, he left.

“So are you leaving?” Youngi asked him as he watched the bubbles in his pink champagne, “Or have you changed your mind?”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” Jungkook said stiffly as he fixed the suit jacket he was currently getting fit into, “I’m just postponing my leave but I have a few things to take care of here.”

“Like with you and Y/n?” Youngi asked, making sure the fitting room at Dolce & Gabbana was empty aside from just them two. Jungkook didn’t even flinch at the mention of you. Since the two arrived at this store his vision has been filled with large framed photos of you and your dear friend Park Jimin all over the store. Apparently you were one of the brand’s favorite Ambassadors and they made it known you modeled their products. Right now he’s facing the mirror with a picture of you modeling a satin baldonétte bra and high waisted panties. You looked beautiful and seductive and its been hard for him to not just stare at all your pictures since he got here. Now Yoongi is attempting to bring you up and he refuses to give in to the extent his relationship with you has gone.

You haven’t even spoken since the wedding and even that had just been an exchange of pleasantries and no real depth to either of your words.

“No, with my father,” Jungkook said stiffly as he shrugged off the suit jacket and called in the stylist to find something else. Yoongi sat up in his seat slightly more interested, “Really? About what? Don’t tell me you're back in the running.”

“We're going to discuss it,” Jungkook mumbled to himself.

He wanted to make one thing clear, his decision to seek out his father and work out some sort of plan where he can get back into the job he had been assigned to do, while also having freedom had absolutely nothing to do with you. It has nothing to do with the fact that you’re here, and he’s interested in you, and that it would be his parent’s dream for him to stay and be in a relationship with you and also take over the business finally…

This was his decision because his brother’s right. He can't just keep running away.

“And what do you mean, with Y/n?” Jungkook asked, clearing his throat awkwardly as he glanced up at your five foot photo framed above the mirror, remembering the shape of your body against his, moaning his name and tightening your walls around him.

“Haven’t you heard the rumors?” Youngi asked as he got on his phone, “It seems as though you have competition.”

Jungkook didn’t need to be told more as he took Yoongi’s phone from his outstretched hand and read what was on the screen with furrowed brows.

At the end of the article, in big, fat letters, the conclusion said: ‘Now the question is, will L/n choose the best friend, Park Jimin, or the elegant and influential Best Man, Jeon Jungkook—possibly as the country’s newest IT couple?’

When he gave Yoongi his phone back, there was no denying the sudden irritation that contorted his features. It’s not like he expected this to not happen but… he doesn’t like what they’re implying. Yoongi studied him closely to see if he would get a response, but Jungkook gave nothing away. Instead he just ordered the tailor to pack the two suits he tried on so he could buy both, “I’ll meet you out there.”

Yoongi left Jungkook to get changed and while he stood alone in the fitting room staring up at your boudoir photos framed around him, he took his phone and dialed your number.

“Hello?” Your end of the call sounded hectic, louder and busier than his did. You were in the middle of an interview for Vogue and were taking a short break. It seemed like he called at just the right time since you were getting your makeup touched up.

“Are you busy?” Jungkook asked with a sharp tone that fell on deaf ears when the call went silent for a moment. He really did admire the photo of you, remembering just what it was like to trace his hands along your figure.

“Who is this?” You finally asked, making his jaw clench slightly.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“Oh you see, I wouldn’t have known that considering you didn’t even say a hello or anything,” You told him in a sarcastic tone that made him want to smile but also roll his eyes, “Besides, I am busy.”

As if on cue, the call of your name in the background made your claim concrete. He bit his lip in thought, wondering what it was you were doing and how long it would take, “When can I see you?”

A smile played on your lips as you held up a finger to your assistant who was trying to hurry you along, “Did you make an appointment with my assistant?”

He couldn’t help but scoff as his gaze turned toward a glare, practically imagining that picture of you smiling at him, “I didn’t know I needed one, darling. When can I schedule one?”

“I’m not sure, i'll let you know,” you said and before Jungkook could respond, the call ended and he was left in shock that you just hung up on him. He gathered his things and met Yoongi outside to pay, completely bewildered by the fact that you just hung up on him so easily. He knows you haven’t spoken since the night of the wedding where you were forced to speak but this is all he gets?

“What took you so long?” Yoongi asked as they left Dolce & Gabbana with new things.

xxx-xxx-xxxx: Appointment scheduled for, 6:30 pm today, L/n Residence @ the Northbrook Estates

Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief at the confirmation of an appointed meeting with you tonight.

The night on the yacht had been unexpected yet also long-awaited and now that its done with, neither of you seemed to know what to do about it. You wont lie and say you didn’t enjoy that moment with him but you were also realistic. You and Jungkook would just never work out, you’re too different on the outside and that’s why you’re so confused now as to why he called you.

“So, Y/n, its been a busy season for you this year,” an interviewer said as the camera zoomed in on your expression as they continued, “Not only did you walk thirteen shows but I hear you also celebrated your close friends wedding. How was that? You must have been exhausted.”

“You know it was a lot but it was exciting, I hold my friends dearly and I’m just thankful I was able to make time for such an event,” you said and you’ll admit your response sounded scripted. You didn’t dive too deeply which is what you’re sure the interviewer wanted. You should have known that this stupid interview wouldn’t just be about your newly established modeling career.

Whether you’ve become Model of the Year for your catwalk, or for nepotism, you didn’t are much either way. All you cared about was the fact that the interviewer has found a way to slip in questions they didn’t need to know. It’s like you can just sense the things they’ll ask and have already prepared and calculated the exact responses you need to give.

“Of course, and what a star-studded party,” the interviewer continued, “The Best Man being Jeon Jungkook must have been exciting for you.”

“Well, we’ve all known each other for a long time now so…” You cleared your throat, looking a bit disinterested.

“Yes, of course,” the interviewer said with a nervous laugh, “And pardon me, Y/n, but I just have to ask, did anything happen between the two of you on this very intimate trip?”

Your smile strained but you never looked anything less than sweet as you said, “We are all just very close friends. Most of them have supported me in modeling.”

It was a clear attempt on your part to direct the conversation back to what it was supposed to be about. She ignored your last comment and said, “So… I guess we’re all curious, some pictures from the parties were released of the two of you awfully close in certain open waters, and an evident hickey on his neck—not to mention the matching clothes, please, is there something between you and the heir of Jeon Corporation?”

“Nothing that should concern you, no,” you smiled sweetly and the interviewer seemed to freeze up, unsure if she had gone too far in her questions.

Silence filled the space around them and there was no way to cut these parts out since it was a video shoot and after a while of the interviewer struggling to find which questions to ask, a person who worked for you stepped forward, “How about another short break?”

The interviewer released a shaky breath while the both of you made your way off camera and your glam team was quick to touch up your hair and makeup as the director of the shoot approached you, “Y/n darling, how are we feeling?”

“Annoyed,” you answered honestly, “I thought this was supposed to be about my modeling.”

“You’re absolutely right, darling, we apologize for any mistake we’ve done on our part, I—She must have taken it as an opportunity to ask her own questions and I promise you, we will have a deep conversation about this. We aren’t TMZ…” the director said and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m done filming if she’ll be the one continuing the interview,” You told him as you began to walk away from him, not caring for the excuses or whatever and you can hear your publicist repeat your words to him.

It wasn’t even that she was bad at her job or that she asked anything too deep but she just quickly got on your bad side with her persistence to not let the subject drop.

In the end you got your wish and filming ended smoothly before you were driven away to whatever was next in your schedule, trying not to think about the interview or the fact that there was a chance you would be seeing Jungkook later.

Things are evidently strange between you two and its not like you’ve been blind to the articles or posts about you but you don’t want to address anything. That night on the yacht seems like a fluke and like it shouldn’t have happened at all despite how you felt in the moment. Your parents aren’t the type to be invested in what is put in the tabloids but when their lifelong, country club going, friends call them and ask if there’s anything between you and Jeon Corporation’s Jungkook, they’re going to want answers.

It was just one night, one night where the two of you put aside whatever indifference you had toward each other just so you could release tension and this is the consequence for that. Of course everyone would want to know and of course no one was able to turn a blind eye to you. Even Yeonwoo managed to ask what you had been doing in the cabins withJungkook or so long that night and even when you tried to ignore her she kept pressing you for an answer.

In truth you had nothing to say. You were both adults and it didn’t matter if anyone else was dying to know if there was anything going on between you.

You resented each other.

You had sex.

Plus, he’s going to leave soon and you don’t think that bothers you?

When your driver pulled up to the tall skyscraper you called home, you headed inside alone.

“Good evening, Miss L/n,” the lobbyist held the door open for you, “You have a visitor waiting in the lobby.”

Your brows furrowed, checking the time before heading to the library where sure enough, Jeon Jungkook was sitting by the fireplace reading whatever magazine was set out for him. At the sound of your Miu Miu kitten heels, he turned staring at you with his big rounded eyes being the only thing you could see beside his face mask, “You’re early.”

Jungkook wrapped an arm around your waist as he pressed his lips to your cheek in greeting and you did the same, he joined you in the elevator and said, “I like to get to my appointments early.”

“You’re lucky my shoot ended early or else you might have had to wait outside like a dog,” you teased as you pushed the button for the top floor where your penthouse was located. As part of the infinite amount of wealth your family has, you also dabble in real estate, mostly in the country as luxury apartments but you do have some homes overseas: Paris, New York, Argentina, etc.

The place you call home is a top floor penthouse with terrace and rooftop. The floor in which it was located was completely shut off for just you and included a private gym, yoga studio, three walk-in closets, and on top of that an elevator parking garage with a Mary Kay Pink Rolls Royce sitting pretty inside it.

Jungkook has never stepped foot in your home before and it was overwhelmingly stunning with four bedrooms, two living rooms (one on the top floor and one on the main floor too), an open kitchen, poolside terrace, and five bathrooms. You lived in ultimate modern luxury with traditional themes throughout the home like its hand carved wooden furniture and expensive marble walls.

“Is this different from your little magic treehouse in the woods you ran off to?” You asked, tempted to push his buttons as you removed your coat and handed it to your housekeeper who waited at the door.

“Well, considering my magic treehouse is worth 2.6 million dollars, no I wouldn’t consider this that different from it,” Jungkook couldn’t help but boast, feeling like he’s competing. It’s like when he was in school and the students would brag about whatever exotic trip they got to go in the summer and he would have to make sure to tell them what he did was better. “Maybe I’ll bring you with someday.”

Fuck. Why did he say that? Why is he indulging in any of this in the first place? You and Jungkook should never be together, right?

“Speaking of which, I thought you would have ran off now that the wedding is over,” You said as you mumbled something to the housekeeper making her leave, “Drink?”

“Water is fine,” Jungkook said as he made his way down to your 70’s inspired talking pit of suede Anabei sectional couches, “And I thought I would have been gone by now too”

“What changed?” You skied curiously, “Don’t tell me it's because you would miss me.”

You held your hand to your chest as if to seem touched by the thought and Jungkook just rolled his eyes as you continued, “How would all the other girls feel knowing I’m keeping you here?”

Jungkook scoffed as he practically pushed your legs off his lap, “Can you not joke for just one second?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even if part of you felt confused wondering if this was supposed to be a serious moment or not. Jungkook huffed, running his fingers through his black hair, “I’m here because I wanted to talk to you about all those articles. My parents are working on taking those down, are you okay?”

Your eyebrows knitted together with confusion, “Me? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I’ve never seen anything bad written about you and suddenly you’re being painted as a two-timer by spending a night with me while also… doing whatever it is you do with that friend of yours.” He was not jealous. He swears.

To be clear, there really is nothing going on with you and Jimin. You’re just two friends in the modeling world who happen to like attending secret parties together and maybe making out drunkenly every now and then. That’s it. You’ve never slept with him and Jimin has too many girls on his line for you to ever consider him.

“I’ll survive,” You mumbled as you looked over at him, seeing him in deep thought.

“I’m thinking of staying a while longer,” Jungkook said suddenly with a clear of his throat.

Jungkook was not the shy type and to be honest he’s not even sure why he’s letting you know [as if it made a difference] but the words just slipped out.

He did not like you.

Well, he didn’t like you like that. It sounds harsh he’s well aware of that but he was never romantically attracted to you before so how is he going to suddenly feel that way after only a week in contact again. Maybe it was just unresolved sexual tension after years of feeling that way but that can’t be the only thing that’s making him want to revert back to what his life was like before he left to live on his own.

He escaped all this so that he could live somewhere quietly and do what he really wanted to do without worrying about anything else. Now he’s contemplating moving back and possibly involving himself with his father’s business again. Too much is going on for him to understand why.

“For how long?” you asked as your fingers began to softly run through the ends of his hair making him look at you. You couldn’t hide your curiosity and how close the two of you are.

When he had pulled you down to sit with him, it was with your legs thrown over his lap which he had been caressing every now and then.

An arrogant smirk formed on his lips as he licked them, tapping your calf lightly, “How long do you want me here?”

Fuck, Jungkook is staying to get back in business… not for you.

It’s not for you.

It’s not for yo—

His breath hitched as a sudden weight shifted to his lap, his hands immediately went to your waist, helping you get comfortable on him. It’s embarrassing the way Jungkook didn’t hesitate to reach for you when you sat on his lap feeling your arms thrown around his neck, “Here as in…”

You looked down at the short skirt you wore which rolled up a little from how your legs straddled his thighs and said, “Under me?”

A scoff in disbelief left his lips as he couldn’t help but laugh, sliding your hips closer, “Yeah.”

It was attractive the way your conversations never seemed to fall unless you wanted them to. It was a constant cat and mouse game, banter back and forth and he catches on quickly.

You couldn’t help it, okay. Anytime you would see pictures of Jungkook since he left, he was always in a hoodie and sweats or something that just hid his entire body. Right now he’s wearing this Christian Dior white button-up shirt [which he rolled the sleeves up at some point since he got here] and it was messily untucking from his black slacks and he looks so hot right now. His hair was messy in a sexy way and he looked just like he used to, except this time with tattoos and a different sense of maturity.

Without wasting another moment debating if you should or shouldn’t, you leaned down and kissed him. Jungkook’s lips parted against yours, stretching his neck to kiss you with more need. Unlike the first night you kissed, this one wasn’t as rushed and angry. He took his time longer, pulling your bottom lip between his and doing it over again.

You pressed your chest against his, with your tongue swiping against his lip teasingly until you met his. Jungkook’s hands pinched the satin fabric of your skirt, feeling it tighten and rise, unable to stop the growing desire he was feeling for you. His briefs were getting tighter every time you shifted on his lap and whatever he had been thinking before you started making out.

“You want to play?” He asked, shifting his head to deepen the kiss without bumping noses. You pulled away feeling desperate to catch your breath as his kisses began to travel down toward your exposed neck, licking and nipping under your jaw while beginning to make

“Maybe,” you sighed in pleasure, running your hands through his hair when you felt him kiss down your collarbone, closer and closer down the deep-v in your Miu Miu chiffon top. The strap to your shirt slipped down your shoulder as Jungkook’s rough fingers traced down the side of your arms.

You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to go back to kiss your lips as you felt his growing erection press into you. It was hard for him to ignore the fact that the only thing covering what was under your skirt was a flimsy, thin piece of lace he shifted you closer until his bulge was tucked between your legs, placing your hips right over where he wanted them to be. Now that he moved you, his outline was more evident and had you grinding along him.

Jungkook released a groan with a sharp breath once he felt that sudden move and he couldn’t help but buck his hips against you, feeling the fabric of his briefs constrict his hardened cock. It was a frustrating feeling yet he felt so eager with his tongue down your throat and his covered dick tucked nicely between your covered folds that he couldn’t even think to stop and remove the layers.

His lips were feeling swollen against yours yet he didn’t want to pull away, the friction he was getting from the way you humped him was turning him on with how needy it felt. You kissed along his jaw, grinding against his aching dick while your nimble fingers began to unbutton his shirt.

“God damn,” Jungkook groaned as he threw his head back, relishing in the way your hips moved expertly against him while kissing down his naked chest. He slid his ass down your back, stopping over your butt and pulling your skirt out of the way for him to get a better feel of you underneath. With firm hands, he turned your sensual grinding into harsher and more deep movements that he met with his hips.

He’s not sure he could take just this any longer. Anytime he’s with you now it’s like he can’t do anything but fall for you and despite how annoying it is, he doesn’t do anything to stop it. Instead, he welcomes it and right now all he wants to do and rip off the remaining layers between you so he could have your legs wrapped around him once more. It’s only been days since the first time and he has not been able to stop thinking about it.

The day of the wedding he had been so distracted by you that he barely remembers any of it and now his best friends are on their honeymoon and he’s here thinking about you again.

Giving up on arguing how much he wants to have you, he wanted to get your clothes off and you were letting him. His hands had barely made it to the end of your top, ready to pull it off, when a loud ringtone cut through the living room, echoing off the walls and hard to ignore. The two of you looked at each other confused.

He sat up, reaching his hand into his pocket and pulling out his phone, annoyed that someone had thought to call him.

“Answer,” you said breathlessly as you looked at the caller, already sliding yourself off his lap.

“It’s just Hobi,” Jungkook said, letting out a huff in annoyance as he set his phone back down, turning to kiss you but it rang once again. Your eyes met his and he begrudgingly grabbed his phone and swiped to answer, “Hello?”

“Hey man, I just got off the phone with your Yoongi,” Hoseok said as he sat in a large closet filled with designer clothes, “And why am I always the last to know if you’re leaving or not?”

“What?” Jungkook looked visibly annoyed with his scrunched brows and tense jaw and for some reason that made him hotter to you. His shirt was undone completely and his belt was halfway pulled off and with his legs spread, it was very hard to ignore his hard on.

Your eyes softened with curiosity and you couldn’t help but bite down on your bottom lip as you decided to just go for it. First, your hand rested on his thigh as he listened to whatever Hoseok said, but slowly you made your way toward his bulge.

“You’re gonna start working with your dad again?” Hoseok asked, unaware of the way Jungkook’s attention had drifted down to the palm of your hand, right over his dick. Your fingers pressed against the underside of his member, massaging your palm into it and feeling the way his hips raised. “What happened to not caring about the money and the company and all that blah blah blah?”

Jungkook couldn’t help but roll his eyes, snapping back to his friend instead of what was going on. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, tightening their grip as if in warning. It was a useless attempt considering he tried helping you pull his belt off and saying, “Come on man, it was never like that.”

He could hear his own tone falter somewhere between lying and having his cock free from the confines of his tight briefs with your hand feeling him.

Hoseok laughed, debating what suit he should wear, “No, it’s exactly like that.”

Jungkook’s hand went to your head, softly caressing you as you kissed down his navel, your hand wet with spit, jerking him off while licking just above his dick. He didn’t bother with a response to his friend as he continued speaking anyway, “Is it true you and our princess are messing around? It’s all over the tabloids.”

Sarcasm was evident in Hoseok’s tone but Jungkook was too focused on your tongue licking up the length of his hard cock, wetting it with spit that made your hand movements smoother.

“Look I get it, you’ve had all this tension something was bound to happen but damn, why didn’t you tell me that either?” Hoseok asked with evident shock, unaware of the blowjob his friend was receiving on the other end. Your lips were wrapped tightly around his length and with your hand too, it was hard for Jungkook to keep his reactions to a minimum.

“Hobi, I—I, yknow I just,” Jungkook cleared his throat uncomfortably to hide an evident groan. He was beginning to fidget under your ministrations, especially when you squeezed under his cock, massaging his balls, “Sorry.”

“Sorry?! That’s all you gotta say after chewing me out for giving you condoms as a joke.” Hoseok was lying in a pile of Louis Vuitton suits on the floor, engrossed in his one-sided conversation, “Our friendship seems one-sided buddy. I thought when you came up to me… I thought, ‘Hey, maybe my good buddy Jungkook will get in this dandy hot tub with me’ but no, you know what you do instead? You ask where Y/n is! God I should’ve known—“

Jungkook threw his head back in a mixture of pleasure and obvious irritation that he couldn’t take it anymore. His finger pressed into the red button and the call was cut to end suddenly. As soon as his phone hit the couch, you pulled off his length with a deep huff for air, “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

“He’ll get over it,” Jungkook mumbled as he reached for your hand to pull you toward him, “Come here.”

“I’m not done,” you leaned away from the kiss he was trying to give you but his hand held your head in place, not caring to kiss the lips that had just been around his hard dick. Jungkook wasn’t as gentle as his need grew heavier and with a strategic pull at your top, it ripped down the back, “Jungkook!”

“What?” He asked with a giddy smile, tempted to be playful, “It was in my way.”

You rolled your eyes, sitting up to take your skirt off yourself and prevent another hazard while Jungkook finished undressing himself. “It was custom, asshole.”

Jungkook’s smile dropped with worry, lips parted in surprise until you burst out into a laugh and fell onto his lap, “You should see the look on your face.”

“Ha ha, don’t scare me like that,” Jungkook chuckled, “I was already thinking about the fortune I would have to pay to fix that.”

“Jungkook,” you ignored the fact that the two of you were naked, in the middle of an intimate moment and asked, “What did you mean earlier?”

“When?” Jungkook asked, caressing your leg, “About staying? Yeah, I’m serious.”

“You are?” You crossed your arms over your bare chest, “Why?”

“Why?” He was visibly taken back, “What do you mean why?”

“I mean… just a few days ago you were adamant on leaving right after the wedding and when you left the resort before everyone else we all kind of figured you had left but you’re here now and…” You took a deep breath in thought.

“Do you want me to leave?” Jungkook asked, sounding more hurt than he intended to. All this time pushing and pulling his feelings for how he felt about being here and seeing you was getting to him. He’s very aware how confusing he is and spending a night with you shouldn’t have changed his mind this quickly while he also refused to admit.

“We didn’t talk about what happened at the party,” you said suddenly, feeling Jungkook drape his shirt over your naked figure as the conversation shifted drastically.

“I know,” he dropped his head, “I’m sorry, I was really confused and I couldn’t tell what I was feeling or how you were feeling and I was mad and… I thought you probably didn’t care.”

“I mean, I didn’t,” you shrugged, “But because I figured it was just a one time thing since you were very obvious with how little you thought of me and now you’re saying you’re staying longer while visiting me at home and it just… I don’t get it.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Jungkook was in his slacks again, trying to fix whatever mess he might have made over time, “I just… I was just being dumb. I wanted to act like I wasn’t into you at all because I was mad at everyone else and it wasn’t fair that I took it out on you but I thought you didn’t like me either.”

“And you’re right, you were mean to me,” you nudged him with your foot, “So really, I shouldn’t even be in this position with you right now.”

Jungkook didn’t dare argue when you called him out, “You always pretended to hate me even when you’d get jealous if someone else talked to me and you could never take your eyes off me.”

His brows furrowed, reminded of the trip and how everyone always joked that he wanted you when he was so stubborn on saying he didn’t. He didn’t like how predictable his life was.

“Because I knew everyone thought you were perfect,” Jungkook tried pulling you toward him, “And they didn’t know how you liked to push my buttons and say things you knew would get to my head and how you were actually so unbelievably perfect that it pissed me off everytime I let you get to me.”

“Don’t sweet talk me now,” you teased when he leaned over to lay between your legs, content with the sight of you in his Dior shirt, “How are you gonna repay me for being such a dick?”

“Whatever you want,” Jungkook admitted, “Say the word and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“I have everything I want,” you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Come on Y/n, don’t make this hard on me,” he whined playfully, “Everyone else is already making it hard and I just want to spend the night with you. I’ll let you use me.”

Your brow raised and with a soft laugh you pulled him toward you for a kiss, “I get to use the Jeon Jungkook? What will everyone say?”

“That they saw it coming,” Jungkook chuckled as he pressed his lips to yours, “So don’t stop the inevitable.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling your arousal from earlier slowly make its return, “You’re so spoiled.”

“I know.”

Jeon Jungkook now knows what an awful liar he’s been these last couple of years. All of this talk about wanting to be different, break free from his family’s influences and the world of money and power, was meaningless in the end. He tried, he really did but his rebellion of running off and doing whatever he pleased, refusing to acknowledge the company, the wealth and the people in it was short lived because he never actually wanted to escape it.

He was still going to be friends with the people he grew up with and fall back to his old routine of country clubs and parading on yachts or private islands.

He was still going to take over his share of his father’s company and dress himself up in designer Kiton suits that he used to despise wearing.

He was still going to fall for you, the person he despised simply for being an exact reflection of himself. You were perfect for him in every way on paper and that made him want to push you away but in the end, he still fell for you like he knew he would.

Some people dream about having the life he does, or growing up the way he did and yet here he was selfishly wishing it all away. It was perfect, it was so insanely perfect and unfair that Jungkook ever thought he wouldn’t be happy with what he had been handed down to him for simply being born.

“This person gathered valuable experiences in the world and has shown such a strong will to portray it all into commitment for the company and that makes me a proud father,” A deep voice spoke from behind a podium with an echoing mic that had the attention of over a hundred people, “Please, welcome the newest V.P. for Jeon Corporation, my youngest son, Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook had an arrogant smile on his lips as he walked onto stage, thanking everyone for congratulating him on his quick and easy advance in the company—even surpassing his older brother.

“Honestly, it is a big thank you to everyone close to me, for helping me see how ready I am to step into this role and fulfill my duty as a member of this corporation,” Jungkook said confidently, looking at all his friends who had a mixture of confused yet knowing smiles on their faces.

“What a brat,” Hoseok joked with Namjoon, “And I blame you for this.”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen someone get pulled back into the country’s good graces so easily,” Namjoon laughed, remembering all the articles about how my ridiculous Jungkook was for publicly stating he would never be a part of the company.

“That’s because he’s spoiled,” Jungkook’s older brother chimed in, “Even after he says he’s gonna walk away from it, he’s still gonna be welcomed back with open arms.”

Taehyung released a playful sigh, “I want to be Jeon Jungkook when I grow up, the perfect life just handed to me and I’m just too blind to appreciate it.”

“Tae, you’re rich,” Yeonwoo whispered to him, Taehyung grinning at her reminder and sitting up straighter.

“How was it?” Jungkook asked his friends as he looked around the table.

“Well rehearsed,” Taehyung gave him the thumbs up, “Also, where’s Y/n? I thought she’d be here.”

Jungkook checked the time on his watch, his leg already bouncing underneath the table, “Yeah, I thought so too.”

It shouldn’t be that big of a deal to him. This was all just some flashy way for his father to make Jungkook’s debut in the business widely anticipated and you had other things to do than be here. The two of you aren’t even officially together yet so it’s not like you owe it to him or anything.

“Y/n,” Jimin whined as he watched the valet open the limo door for you, “Please don’t ditch me. I’m your best friend, imagine how much fun we could be having. Everyone’s going to ask where you ran off to after the dinner.”

“Well you can tell them,” you hurried to finish applying your lip gloss, “That I had more important things to do than get drunk at some fashion party.”

“Right, just throw me to the side like I mean nothing,” Jimin said dramatically, “Is this how you treat friends now?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing he was only trying to cause a scene. Jimin knew you would be calling it an early night but he just wanted it to be difficult. With a small sigh, you double checked that you looked fine in the mirror and said, “Okay, wish me luck, I’m hoping I get laid tonight.”

“I also hope you get laid tonight so that I don’t have to listen to you talk about how much you want to see him,” Jimin said as you made your way out the car, “Goodnight.”

By the time you got to the banquet, the cameras had been long gone from the entrance and so you were able to make your appearance quietly. You would have been here earlier if there hadn’t been an ambassador dinner tonight that you had already agreed to do before Jungkook decided on staying and you just couldn’t miss it.

You felt bad because Jungkook had asked you to come be his date but he understood why you couldn’t make it right away. If anything he should be happy that you hurried over from dinner to the banquet without an outfit change. Despite the number of attendants, it was really a private affair with only a couple people from the press but nothing too grand and over the top. It made arriving late less miserable and finding Jungkook and your friends much easier.

And when you first involved yourself with Jungkook in this way, you should have known it wouldn’t all be easy. You were now somewhat seeing the most eligible bachelor in the country and nobody knows about it aside from speculation. Speculation won’t stop spoiled rich girls who want him to themselves and that’s what you saw when you found him.

“It’s so great to have you back Kooky, it’s like… the best thing to ever happen,” some girl gushed at him from the once empty seat to his left. She seemed unaffected by the stares she received from around the table and didn’t care at all that Jungkook wasn’t even glancing her way. He doesn’t know her, she’s probably just the daughter of some wealthy couple who thinks she has a chance with him.

Jungkook stared forward, watching his friends’ faces as their eyes softened, no longer listening to the girl who said, “Maybe we can get together some time.”

A gentle hand touched his shoulder, soft lips brushing against his ear as you said, “Maybe we can get together some time too.”

There was no denying the smile that grew on his face as he turned to look at you and how close you were to him. Jungkook’s lips parted in pleasant surprise, ready to talk to you when someone else spoke up.

“Excuse us, sweetheart,” Namjoon said to the girl, “It seems our table is full, maybe you can try somewhere else?”

She left with an annoyed scoff, making room for you to sit down, “Sorry I’m late, did any of you miss me?”

You had a sweet smile on your face, a camera clicked somewhere else in the distance surely capturing how close you were to Jungkook specifically, who was tracing his hand along your thigh.

“Dearly,” Jungkook said as he leaned into you for a quick kiss on the lips, “Thanks for coming.”

“I told you I’d try and make it,” you said to him, “I missed the speech didn’t I?”

“It was nothing special,” Jungkook’s hand began to slide down the space between your legs—or at least as far as your dress would let it, “Just the usual talk about how amazing I am, it was all very boring.”

“But I love talking about you,” Your tone was sarcastic yet flirty, your hand falling over his in warning when he began to pull up your dress just a little. You were sitting at a table with a large draped tablecloth that hid your legs underneath but you were still very aware of the fact that your friends were all around the table.

“Y/n,” Hoseok called for you from across the table, “How does it feel to have the Jeon Jungkook wrapped around your finger?”

Jungkook turned to his friend with a harsh glare, knowing he was just poking fun at it all but still managing to get under his skin. You looked at Jungkook with a knowing grin, “Like nothing I didn’t expect.”

He scoffed, squeezing your thigh possessively, “I think the feelings are mutual, darling.”

You leaned into him, not caring for being around so many important people with cameras trying to capture whatever moment they can, “They are.”

::.

a/n omg it took me literally forever to write this and idk how I feel about it but yknow what 😭it’s finished and that’s what matters. I was in the mood for some rich kdrama feel fic and I hope I managed to pull that off at least a litttlleeeeeeere

thanks for everyone that waited patiently and please feel free to lmk what you think <3

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @skzthinker @unnatae @beautywine @lilliankoo @annenakamura @lesoleile @burnahtsw @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @whoa-jo @marvelbun @sunnikthv @kochycooky @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @dream-cvtcher @jksjx @kissyfacekoo @joyjunk @caro134340lina @hyunjinswifeee @oldermenluverrr @caro134340lina @olivialeesstuff [taglist is too long so I’ll have to make two versions of it]

[synvil]

can’t swim // rafe cameron

a / n : rafe cameron thoughts. btw this was actually an anonymous ask i sent to a writer, i don’t know if she’ll write it but im sure if she does, it’ll turn out amazing. @rafeysbunny i’m 🧋 anon, hehe.

fun fact, i cannot swim.

synopsis : in which, rafe overhears that you can’t swim and during a party out on the docks, some of the kooks push you into the ocean to loosen you up.

warnings : reader can’t swim. kelce being an ass, peer pressure, etc.

“are you serious, [Name]?”

The raised tone of her voice causes you to shush her as you tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear and purse your lips faintly. “Not so loud, sare..” You let out a small breath and frown, leaning back against the headboard of her bed.

Sarah nods in understanding, lowering her tone as she sighs softly and crosses her legs on the bed in front of you. “That’s crazy- i mean, everyone here in Outer Banks are either surfers or decent swimmers.”

“Except me..” You trail off, shutting your eyes as you bring your hands up to your face. “It’s pretty humiliating, you know.. Seeing everyone in their swimsuits and able to swim in the ocean or go surfing, without the fear of drowning.”

“Wow, no wonder you wouldn’t ever go into the pool or go swimming with us during the boat parties on the dock..”

Unbeknownst to you two, Sarah’s door was open and a passing Rafe Cameron was on his way downstairs when he overhears your conversation.

“It’s not like I haven’t tried, but each time, I feel my body sinking and it terrifies me. Plus, y’know, with the whole nearly drowning as a kid trauma and shit.” you force a laugh while Sarah shares a bittersweet smile.

“It’s alright, stay by me tonight and I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“Thanks, Sarah, I appreciate it.. and you can’t tell anyone either, okay, especially not Rafe.” You warn pleadingly and she chuckles and nods. “wait, why specifically him?”

You feel your cheeks warm at her question as you turn away. “Your brother just seems like the type to make fun of me for it, and besides, it’s just embarrassing to have a guy i think is hot, to know that about me.”

Sarah scrunches her nose and shudders. “I think your crush on my brother is more embarrassing than you being unable to swim.” she teases and you playfully push her away from you as she breaks into a laugh.

Rafe peeks into the room and thinks for a moment as his eyes examine and take in your form. He has already known long ago of your developed crush on him, and to say he has a mutual infatuation with you may be an understatement.

Every time you come over, Rafe finds every excuse to be in the house, sometimes even in the same room, just to get a look at you.

The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you feel shy, the way your eyes light up when you laugh, everything entices him, intrigues him. You were just so perfect.

Rafe quickly pulls away when he hears movement and leans against the wall beside the doorframe for a moment.

Despite being a little surprised at the newfound information, it brought a little smile to his face. You can’t swim? How cute.

“Come on, we should get ready for Topper’s party tonight.” Sarah says and you sigh softly, but get up anyways with her as she heads over to her closet. “It’ll be fun, come on.”

Rafe lingers for a second longer as he imagines what you’ll be wearing before taking his leave downstairs.

It’s around ten at night when the two of you arrive at the docks, the night sky surrounding the area with only the lights of Topper’s large boat illuminating the place.

“I don’t know, maybe i shouldn’t be here..” You go to turn around but Sarah stops you, pulling you to her side. “Come on, it’ll be okay, i promise. Besides, you look super cute, so flaunt it, okay?” She winks and you huff a breath before following after her.

The closer you get, the louder the partygoers become and the music blasting is enough to stimulate the senses.

Once you get on board, Sarah is engulfed by her friends, while you remain on the sideline with a weak smile and awkwardly hugging your arms. Despite being a kook, you weren’t among the popular ones but that wasn’t enough to get you on their bad side at least.

You rub your arms, the thin fabric of your cardigan doing nothing but add to Sarah’s fashion sense of your outfit tonight. In her baby blue, cropped cardigan, a matching spaghetti strapped solid colored tank and dark washed, high waisted denim shorts.

You help yourself to the bar, grabbing a red solo cup and letting the bartender fill the plastic cup with some beer before bringing it to your lips, hoping it would do some good to alleviate some anxiety, while you keep an eye on Sarah from nearby, who’s talking with her friends.

The scene brings a smile to your lips when you recall her saying she would keep an eye on you earlier in the day but you were happy to see her enjoy herself.

However, you didn’t get to enjoy much time alone as Topper and his friends make his way over to you.

“Hey, [Name]. All alone again?” Kelce smirks and you merely offer a small smile in return. “Not much of a party kinda girl.. but it’s nice.” you mention the last part to Topper who dismisses you, understanding you meant no offense.

“Where’s Sarah?” Topper asks, looking around the area and you gesture over a little ways nearby.

“She’s talking with some friends.” You reply, tapping my fingers against my cup as you shift your footing, feeling the anxiety come back, causing you to take another sip of your drink.

You let your eyes wander around the group, briefly catching Rafe’s, who let his eyes trail up and down your form for a moment, taking in your appearance. The way the baby blue color popped against your skin, the way your hair was styled for tonight’s party. Even the way you shyly held your cup to your chest, fingers still tapping against the sides.

Feeling your cheeks warm from Rafe’s intense gaze, you turn away and look back to Kelce.

Kelce and some of the other guys step closer and you give a small smile to them. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Come on, [Name]. We notice you always come to these parties but you don’t do anything,” Kelce mentions and you force a chuckle. “I’m an observer.” but some of the other guys don’t take that answer. “All we’re saying is, you should loosen up a little. Come on, some of the girls are taking dives off the tail, you should join.”

Your eyes widen slightly and you wave off the idea. “No, i think im good tonight, im actually pretty tired..” You say and Kelce scoffs lightly as his hand goes down to grab your wrist. “Don’t be a buzzkill, [Name], the water will wake you right up.”

“Kelce, i’m not really in the mood to-“ Rafe places a hand on Kelce’s shoulder, stopping him. “Let go, dude, let’s just leave her alone.” But Kelce doesn’t listen as he drags you along to where the other girls are, and the commotion causes all the partygoers to look over, Sarah looking your way.

Your eyes meet Rafe’s and he notices a look of fear and anxiety in them as Kelce brings you over and you try to pull away, the other guys surrounding you all, cheering Kelce and You.

“Yeah!”

“Come on, loosen up, girly.”

“Kelce, I really don’t—“ Despite your futile attempts, Kelce just takes the cup from your hands while Sarah pushes her way through the crowd. “Hey, Kelce, leave her alone!”

Rafe purses his lips and pulls Kelce away. “Hey, seriously, that’s enough.” He warns, pushing Kelce back, who just furrows his brows and scoffs. “What the hell? Why are you getting in the way, man?”

Sarah manages to get to your side, standing over you protectively. But the other girls now get in the way.

“Come on, Sarah, let [Name] do it.”

“it’s not scary.”

You shake your head again, as the girls pull Sarah away, leaving you alone with the kook surrounding you.

Rafe is pushing Kelce away, who’s confused and pushing Rafe back in retaliation. Meanwhile this leaves the other Kooks to act freely and the guys seem to share the same idea and go over to your body.

“Hey, hold on—“

But it’s too late, as the guys pick you up with ease and toss you overboard, a wave of laughter and cheers erupting from them.

“[Name]!” Sarah shouts from the girls hold and Rafe widens his eyes as he whirls around at the sound of your scream and a splash from the impact.

“Shit-“ Rafe curses as he roughly shoves Kelce into Topper as he rips off his shirt before taking a leap off the deck and into the water with you.

You flail, panic surging into you as you begin to hyperventilate. “S-Sa-Sarah—!”

“What the hell?!” Kelce scoffs with furrowed brows while Sarah feels tears brimming her eyes. “[Name] can’t swim!” she cries out as she rips away from the girls and shoves two of the guys out of her way before leaning over the railing. “[Name]!”

Topper’s, Kelce’s and the other kooks’ eyes widen in shock at the revelation. “What?”

They all rush over the rail to peer into the ocean as Rafe is diving under to find you.

Rafe manages to find your sinking body, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you up to the surface, your body already unconscious due to the lack of air and your panic flailing.

“[Name], [Name], are you okay?” He gasps as he reaches the surface and uses a hand to caress your cheek while the other props you up under your back. “No, no, come on, [Name], wake up.”

Sarah rushes around down the boat and on the boardwalk and leans down. “Rafe, Rafe! Come on, bring her over here!”

Rafe clenches his jaw when you still don’t respond and swims his way over towards Sarah as quickly as he can, panting before lifting your body up, Sarah doing her best to help you onto the wooden docks, laying you flat on your back.

“[Name], please! please wake up!” Sarah cries as she jostles you, Rafe climbing onto the dock next to her and looking down at you. She begins doing chest compressions, tears streaming down her cheeks faster. By this time, everyone on the boat is out on the boardwalk surrounding you body on the ground.

Rafe stands up straight, his clothes soaking and dripping but he doesn’t pay it any mind as he tries to catch his breath, staring down at his sister trying to wake you.

He contemplated for just a minuscule of a second, about beating the shit out of Kelce, but he prioritized your wellbeing first.

“Rafe- she’s not waking up.”

Sarah inhales sharply, trying not to think the worst and her older brother kneels down, pinching your nose closed before bringing his lips down to yours.

The kooks are whispering amongst each other, surprised by Rafe’s sudden leadership actions.

Rafe pulls away, continuing Sarah’s chest compressions before going back to pressing his lips against yours, providing CPR.

Please, not like this. wake up, wake up for me, [Name].

Suddenly a choked noise erupts from your lips as you turn to your side and spew out bits of water. Your throat becomes sore as you cough roughly.

Sarah immediately breaks into a smile, a gasp of relief coming from her and Rafe pulls back, a sigh coming from him. “H-Hey, take it easy, you’re alright..”

You look around, feeling dizzy and nauseous as you spit up the last of the water you nearly drowned in, as Sarah pulls you to her chest, engulfing you in a tight hug. “[Name], i’m so glad you’re okay!”

Meanwhile, Rafe stands upright, looking up at the sky, trying to relax his rapidly beating heart, as he takes slow steps to turn around.

“H-Hey, look, I didn’t know-“

Kelce, already knowing what was coming, raises his hands in defense as he backs up.

However, Rafe doesn’t hesitate his fist swinging into Kelce’s cheek, succeeding in knocking him down. “You son of a bitch!”

Rafe clenches his jaw tight as he looks to the other kooks. “Party is fucking over, get the fuck away!”

Topper tries to talk some sense into Rafe but Rafe shoves him. “You hear me? I said get away! go fucking home, now!”

Everyone is stunned into silence as they share looks, before quickly scrambling away and off the dock, not wanting to argue with the Kook King.

Sarah sniffles as she pulls away and looks up at Rafe, who kneels down and tucks an arm under your legs and the other under your back, before lifting you up carefully, bridal style.

“R-Rafe?…” Your hoarse voice calls out, hands pressed to his firm chest but Rafe hushes you. “Shh.. it’s alright, just get some rest.. you’ll be fine.”

Sarah watches her brother carry you towards his truck, wiping her tears as she follows after them, exhaling gently.

Tears brim your eyes as your chest swells with warmth, despite your freezing body.

You stare up at Rafe weakly, feeling your chest grow weak as your eyes flutter close and you press your head into his chest more. “Thank you.. Rafe.. You saved me..”

Rafe’s hold on you tightens, securing you in his arms.

“..I’m so glad you’re okay… i’m so sorry..”

a/n: welp, this could’ve been sooo much better but i rushed this at work hehe. outerbanks is playing on the tv at work so i thought id get a little smth out :3 this is sooo bad though 😭

not proofread or edited. i’ll go back and edit some other time.

synvil™️.

[kissforyouu]

i love you — a compilation !

warnings : suggestive content + explicit language + mention of substances

authors note : i had so much fun writing the Roblox part lmfao (from personal experience unfortunately😅😅) I hope y’all enjoy the rest of the fic :)) HAPPY V DAY MY LOVES!!!! ❤️❤️

｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ giving him a note saying “don’t smile if you want toe curling sucky sucky tonight”

You excitedly giggle over the folded piece of paper held in between your fingers, thinking to yourself of what your boyfriends reaction would be.

You saw people on TikTok do this trend, and here you thought, yeah why not try this on Jungkook. You were gonna give him sucky sucky anyways^^

“Get back in bed…”, Jungkook groans from his room, patting your side of his bed. Your back is turned to him and bent over as you write the little text on the paper. “Nevermind, stay there bent over and you’re getting instant backshots, okay?” He laughs.

You snort, turning around now. You don’t say anything, stay fully silent, but walk towards him.

“Mmf, finally.” Your boyfriend sighs in pleasure from just having you close to him. He blinks rapidly, breathing heavily. You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t geeking a little right now, having already smoked some weed earlier. So he was a little a high, perfect setting for the little bomb you’re gonna drop on him.

You don’t speak, but hand over the neatly folded piece of paper to him. Jungkook looks at you confused, eyebrow raising a little. He adjusts himself on the bed, sitting up to read it. You try holding in your laugh.

Jungkook, high, tries to read the text on the paper. He giggles, reading out loud, “If…you want…toe curling?” He looks at you with a smirk “—sucky sucky? …tonight, don’t…smile…”

He smiles, what I had written not registering in his head yet. He takes a few seconds to process it, and suddenly, his big giddy smile drops. Jungkook’s entire body turns stiff and he straightens himself. He clearly his throat, eyes landing somewhere else in the room.

He sucks in his cheeks, attempting to make a serious face.

“My love, you look like handsome squidward when you do that”, you giggle, holding his face by both of your hands.

Jungkook cracks out a laugh, immediately breaking his composure. It wasn’t even that funny, but he’d always find everything funny when he’s high. He giggles his way through, crumbling the piece of paper in his hand.

“Be for real, that was not funny”, you laugh at the geeked out man in front of you. “You lost the game though. You’re laughing.”

Suddenly, Jungkook stiffens his posture and clears his voice. He’s back to acting serious again, which made you slap his face jokingly.

“You’ve lost already!” But he shakes his head in deny. “Nuh uh.”

“Yuh uh.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh uh.”

“Nuh U”— you shut him up with a kiss.

“I’ll still give you sucky sucky because you’re my good boy, okay?” You palm his hard on through his boxers.

“Hey, I’m the dominant here!”

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ JK getting mad at his girlfriend whenever she buys things with her own money.

“I missed your cute ass room.” He said with a beaming smile on his face.

“You were here last week, idiot.” You slap the back of his head.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.”

“I miss you even when you’re with me, I miss you always, you know that.”

“Corny.” You laugh at him.

“I know you like that shit.” Jungkook pokes your waist, then a small kiss on your shoulder.

He examines your room as if he’s never been there. But then, pauses.

“Where’d you get this from?,” he walks over to your newly bought expensive white fur caught hanging in your closet.

Jungkook had almost each and every single clothing piece of yours memorised. Mainly because he’s bought almost all of them for you. But this one, certainly, he did not buy.

“Uhh, the store…” you bite your lip.

“What store?”

“Heh.” You knew where he was as going with this.

“Heh? Yeah? What store?” He questions again.

“‘Kay, I’m sorry.” You frown.

“I hate when you don’t use my card. I’ve given you my BLACK card, Y/n. You really can buy anything, big or small. Don’t piss me off.” His eyebrows are furrowed as he leans against your wall, staring at you with a big mean glare. You felt like a child being scolded for taking candy.

“I’ve told you about this already—“

“And I’ve told you about this already too.” He cuts you off. “My card is yours, your card is yours, okay?” He examines my face for expressions of defeat, acceptance. But finds none.

“I don’t want to spend your family’s hard earned money. And yours. It just doesn’t feel right. Plus, what am I going to spend my own money on?” Jungkook rolls his eyes at your question, probably finding it utterly stupid and insane. Who wouldn’t accept free money? You, you wouldn’t.

“Don’t give a fuck. Use my card from now on or I’ll get your card disabled.” He shrugs it off and walks out of your room.

What! WHAT!

“What do you mean you’ll disable my card?!”, you shout, “Jungkook!! Stop!! What the fuck!!” You scream.

꩜ .ᐟ ⋆˚࿔ Secretly recording Jungkook who loves to get baby talked

You scroll on your phone absentmindly (lies), while secretly keeping an eye on your boyfriend. His head rests between your thighs, laying there comfortably as he enjoyed whatever anime on the tv.

You think of how you’re going to secretly set up your phone and record him. Hm. Biting your lip, concentrated, you hide the phone behind your pillow and made sure that the camera would be peaking out.

Okay, perfect.

You start by slowly caressing his hair, running your fingers down his locks and massaging his scalp. You made sure to scratch his scalp with your new set of nails, which he paid for. You know he likes that. Like, a lot.

Jungkook moans, his head’s weight fully dropped down to your thigh. You hum back, hands now moving from his scalp to his face. You trace his cheekbones, his nose, his eyebrows, his lips—you even teasingly put a finger in.

Sometimes, you remember he’s your boyfriend and that you could touch him however you wanted and that makes you the happiest girl in the world.

You go on to trace his eyes, his eyelashes then ears. Jungkook hums in relaxation, giving his full body control to you. He looooves when you did this. You go on to pull on his cheeks a couple times, and then ;

“Come up.” You tap his head with the tip of your nail.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything back, but raises himself up from the position below and turns around to lay in between your arms.

Let the fun begin, heh.

“I love you.” You tell him, with a wet kiss on his cheek.

He flashes his boyish smile at you, eyes fully locked on yours as he traced your lips, “I love you more, baby.”

“But you’re my baby.” You soften your voice a little bit, squeezing his nose teasingly. “No, you are.” He argues back. “No, wrong, you’re my baby.” Jungkook cracks a smile again, a small giggle escaping his lips, “Fine. I am.” He finally surrenders.

You squeal, beginning to place kisses all over his sweet face. Lips, nose, cheeks—everywhere. You shut his eyes, just so you could kiss his eyelids.

“I love you so much, my little baby.”

Jungkook groans into your neck, overwhelmed with all the affection as his cheeks took a sudden colour to red.

“Awh, you’re blushing! Who’s making you blush, hm?” You squeeze his cheeks really hard. I know that hurts.

“Ywu.” He manages to say one word.

“What’s my name?”

“Y/n—mmph”

“No. That’s not my name.”

“Mwomwy.”

Wait, LMAO— you weren’t expecting him to call you that right away. You thought it would have to take a lot of convincing, I guess not.

You kiss his glossy lips as a reward, finally letting go of his cheeks. You suffocate the man from hugging him really really tight, chest pressed right to his face. I don’t think he’s having a bad time though. His face was right on your boobs, fully dived in.

“Baby, you’re making me feel less of a man”, he says on a serious note, hands travelling down to rest on top of your booty shorts.

“It’s okay, nobody’s gonna know anyway. They don’t have to know that you’re my babyboy.”

“Stop.” He groans, arms how fully around your waist as he avoids eye contact. He’s shy.

“My baby star candy.” You kiss his hair again. “Look up to me, baby.” You tap his face, raising his chin up. Jungkook hums, making eye contact with you now.

“Who’s mommy’s good boy?”

You are trying so hard not to laugh. It’s so hard. Fuck. You stiffen your face, take in a big gulp and stay still. Jungkook looks at you weird, almost like he’s going to call you weird, but then, he just lets out a big massive gigantic groan and says—

“Uugghhh, me.”

You could see the visible disgust in his face, but also you could tell that he kind of liked it. LMAO. You can’t hold it in anymore, so you burst out laughing. You laugh so much you have to hold your stomach in.

“Yeah, you like that?”

“Maybe—HEY WHAT THE FUCK!”

The idiot finally spots the camera hiding behind the pillow, screaming as he jumps off your body. You can’t stop laughing. You’re still laughing. Holy shit. You hold your stomach tighter, trying to breath.

“Haa—haaa, fuck, I can’t breath, AHAHAHAHA”

Jungkook screams too, grabbing the phone. He clears his voice before speaking.

“What the actual fuck, Y/n? What the fuck?” He stops the recording and throws the phone away. “Not funny.”

You’re still laughing, eyes closed tight with a big smile on your face. Jungkook thinks you look the prettiest like this.

“Never do that ever again. You are also not posting that anywhere.” He says with a stern voice.

“Okay, but you were into it, right?” You wiggle your eyebrows.

“…maybe.”

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 “you’re spinning me around, my feet are off the ground!^^”

You shiver because of the extreme weather (it’s just snowing), hands tightly wrapped around yourself as you squeeze yourself into your boyfriend’s body.

“It’s cold.” You’re shivering.

You tug onto your skirt—yes, skirt in the damn cold—and pull it down to cover your thighs as if it’s going to do anything.

“No shit”, your boyfriend laughs, warm hands rubbing your waist under your shirt. But his hands leave you for a brief moment and sneaks under your skirt and hooks his fingers onto your underwear right on your asscheeks and pulls the stretchy material down. You shriek, hitting his stomach as a reaction.

“This barely covers your ass. Why are you wearing a shortass-barely-a-skirt-skirt in winter? You dumbfuck.” He flicks your forehead.

“It’s for the fashion, Jungkook. At least I look good.” You huff.

“Yeah, sure, you look good but you’re freezing your ass off in this snow. I even feel bad to throw snowballs at you because you’re shivering already.” He squeezes the back of your thighs that were cold as fuck, like meat put in the freezer.

“Let’s do the thing now! The video!” You remind Jungkook, hitting on his chest as a signal.

He nods his head with a groan, placing your phone on the car so that it stands up right.

“What do I do again?” He looks at you with a slightly nervous lip bite.

“Follow the lyrics and then pick me up when it says my feet are off the ground, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You giggle and press the little red button—record—so that the video would start playing.

“ you’re spinning me around ”

Jungkook giggles, pulling you to him by your waist so that your body would smash against his. He grabs your other hand, intertwining it with his and his other hand on your hip, yours on his shoulder, he dances with you, spinning you around along with him.

“ my feet are off the ground ”

With a laugh, his face fully scrunched up, the beautiful man whom you’re in love with hooks his strong arms under your thighs and lifts you up, completely effortlessly. You squeak, feet wiggling and hanging while your upper body clinged to his. You smile at the camera, face heating up fully.

“ I don’t know where I stand

do you have to hold my hand ? ”

He puts you down quickly, hand patting the top of your ass as a way of saying “good job”. You stand next to him with a big smile as the lyric plays. Then he holds your hand really tightly, swinging it back and forth to great lengths.

“ you mystify me

you mystify me

you mystify me ”

As the lyric switches, he pulls you in again and kisses you, hard. Lips smacking against eachother, he pulls you into a deep kiss full of love and passion. At the second mystify me, Jungkook bends you back by your back, deepening the kiss. He put his hand on his cheek, thumb on your jaw as he lifts his face up to kiss you even deeper. By the last mystify me, Jungkook pulls back, a string of saliva connecting your lips together still.

Your cheeks were flushed red, quite literally, and so were his. His lips were glossy and his eyes twinkled like stars. There was a big cheesy smile on your face, you felt like a child who’s just had her first kiss ever. You love him so much.

You shyly take steps forward to stop recording the video on his phone. Jungkook looks at you, proud, because he’s just made his girl shy again.

“Shy? What? Like you weren’t sucking my balls off last night?”

Why does he have to ruin everything.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ calling him “daddy” as a prank (right in front of your dad)

It took a while for Jungkook to earn your father’s trust. He had to work for it. Bring you home on time, show up and talk to him, engage with the rest of your family—he had to learn to express his love for you really loud in front of your family. Once he fully gained your father’s trust, he was automatically invited to every event your family hosted.

And, that’s no different from right now. Your family was hosting a barbecue. A lot of your family was there, your cousins, uncles and aunts, almost everyone. It was always fun to spend moments together as family. Jungkook was practically family at this point :).

; Which was perfect! For your prank! Of course!

As of now, you were waiting for your boyfriend and dad to end up in the same place.

You were in your kitchen, snacking on some strawberries while being a little bent over on the kitchen isle. Without getting noticed, your boyfriend slithers behind you and creeps his dirty hands up your dress to squeeze your ass cheeks hard. What the fuck! You scream!

“Ack! Jungkook, you scared me!” You whine.

He snickers, places kissing on your shoulder blade while his hands made their way around your waist. “Mmhhhm,” he inhales in the scent of your perfume, letting his full body weight fall onto yours. You ruffle his hair and feed him a strawberry. Jungkook watches the way the juice of the fruit falls onto your neck, so he just lols his tongue out to lick it off, with a smirk of course.

“No, they’ll see.” You warn him.

“Mhm, no.” He murmurs into your neck. His voice was almost inaudible, just audible enough for you to hear it. It was so small and breathy, so needy.

Jungkook breaths into your neck, still kissing you there, leaving light wet pecks on your flesh. “You’re going to get us caught, mh, Jungkook.”

He shakes away your thoughts, fingertips moving lower and lifting up your dress. He taps your clothed clit with the back of his fingers, sending a shiver down your spine.

“No, not in public,” you place your hand on top of his, but don’t move it, and let him do whatever. Jungkook chuckles at your submission, which he expected, of course. But just as he was about to put his hand inside, your little sister screams as she runs into the kitchen.

You both flinch, terrified, screaming! Jungkook withdraws his hand back, covering his actions by just coughing really loud as if he was trying to scratch his throat.

“I want strawberries!” She shouts.

“Yeah, baby? Okay, wait.” You begin cutting up some strawberries for her. In the meantime, your father enters the room, suspiciously eyeing you and Jungkook.

“Daddy, sissy is cutting me strawberries.”

Your dad nods in approval, lifting up your sister and placing her on the kitchen isle.

Now, you never used the nickname “daddy” as much in the bedroom. But whenever you did, Jungkook would be obsessed. He’d beg you to call him that again frequently, but you never did, often finding it ‘cringe’ and ‘weird’. Therefore, you weren’t quite sure whether he would follow the command or not. But heh, worth the try.

“Daddy, can you grab me a bowl?”

In instinct, your father turns around to grab a bowl from the cupboards. But another thing catches his attention, it’s how Jungkook’s reaching for the exact same bowl he was reaching for. They both pause in the moment, looking at eachother’s faces with absolute horror plastered across theirs.

“What the fuck—” your dad exclaims before your sister cuts him off, “—daddy, bad word!”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He apologises to your sister, swatting Jungkook’s hand away as he grabs the bowl and places it in front of you.

He’s glaring at the two of you as of now. Jungkook is left flustered, and startled, and sort of angry in a way because he knew you planned this. He darts his eyes at you very sharply.

You give him a small smile. Jungkook tries to escape the situation by walking away, but—

“Jungkook, stay.”

Oh fuck.

Your dad was always a strict man. He wasn’t a crazy type strict, but still very much protective over his daughters.

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, you just knew you were going to receive a good scolding from Jungkook later.

Your sister finally walks away, munching on her sweet strawberries. Your father, however, taps his fingers on the table, looking between both of you. You’re both silent, like 2 children having caught doing something really sneaky.

“I’m going to pretend like I didn’t hear and witness that.” He darts his eyes at Jungkook.

“Secondly, I hope you are using protection.”

Then he just leaves.

Fuck, you are so embarrassed. You look at Jungkook with a small smile, while he gives you a death glare.

The thing is, dad, we are not using protection either. #rawnextquestion.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 ༘⋆ ִ ₊⊹ dream blunt rotation

You sigh, watching your boyfriend roll another blunt. You observe each and every one of his moments carefully. The way he rolls his filter paper, the way he licks the end of the paper to seal it all together. He did it so precisely. He always did. Your boyfriend was, like, the master blunt roller. You in the other hand could never master it. He always rolled your blunts for you.

Jungkook taps the almost completely rolled blunt on the table about 10 times so that all the weed would be inside the rolled paper, then fills it to the top with a bit more weed.

“Hm.” He hands the blunt over to you, “you want me to roll more, baby?”

You shake your head, “this is enough.”

You light up the blunt with—heh, your super cute hello kitty lighter which, by the way, Jungkook decorated for you. Yeah, he bought all the little charms and decorated the lighter for you. You’re in love with this man.

You light the end of the blunt, and put the other side in your mouth to take a small inhale. You exhale the air out, snuggling into your boyfriend’s couch. You were staying over at his place, no way in hell would you smoke at yours. Only in your room, that too if your parents weren’t home. Jungkook’s parents didn’t care. They knew he did all sorts of things. They didn’t really care as long as he did his academics well, which he did.

Jungkook takes an inhale out of his joint, head thrown back as he sighs, eyes closed. Suddenly, he starts giggling.

“What?” Your voice comes out as a whisper.

“I love you so much. I get emotional when I’m smoking, I don’t fucking know why, but I love you, you know that.” His cheeks take a shade of light pink.

You’re cheeeeeeezzzziiinnnnggggg. There’s a small giggle out of you, and you scoot closer to kiss his cheek and drag a smoke out of your joint as well.

“I love you more, you know that too. And you’re forever going to be my blunt roller slash plug.” You laugh.

“Jesus, I should start making you pay.”

“That’s so odd for you to say.”

Jungkook laughs, agreeing.

“Jungkook?”

He hums, taking an inhale.

“What’s your dream blunt rotation?” You ask, taking another hint.

“Dream what?” Jungkook laughs, finding the question absolutely ridiculous.

“Like, if you could share your shit with anyone, who? Like, a group of people, mhm?”

He laughs again and grabs your hand that was placed on your thigh and kisses the back of it, “you. Why would I wanna be smoking with anyone else besides you?”

“You smoke with your friends.”

“Well, yeah”—he groans, “but like, you’re my dream, you know? You’re my…dream blunt rotation? Whatever you call it.” He declares his love for you again in rather a more romantic way.

“I’m your dream?,” you giggle, lashes batting. Now it’s your turn to kiss the back of his hand. You stare at your boyfriends big doe eyes as he hummed in response. You take another hit of the joint, keeping the smoke still in your mouth, and pull him into your body. You kiss Jungkook with passion, your saliva mingling together as the smoke transfers down to his mouth. Your boyfriend groans and breaks the kiss to inhale and exhale the smoke.

Both of you were starting to sweat despite the A/C, and the weed was starting to take a toll on you as well. You take another inhale, eyes batting to shut down. “Oh my god,” you moan, head falling against Jungkook’s shoulder.

“What’s your dream blunt rotation?” He asks back.

“Well,” you begin, “Robert Pattinson, Lee Jong-suk, Woo Do-Hwah—”

“Actually shut the fuck up.” Jungkook shuts you up with a harsh slap to your thigh, making you wince, followed by a giggle.

“‘Kay, sorry. They’re hot though.”

“What about me?” There’s a big fat pout on his face.

“You’re hotter, you’re my husband.” You give him a big fat smile, and a big fat wet kiss on his forehead.

“I think I’m hard.”

And you look down and see a big fat monster tent staring right back at you.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Roblox with your boyfriend / headcannons

Jungkook never played Roblox until you forced him to do so. He first laughed at you and called you childish for still playing Roblox, fast forward sometimes he begs you to play it with him.

You got into Roblox through your little sister Evie of course. She’d always ask you to play dress to impress with her, and who are you to say no? That’s when you felt like dragging Jungkook into this.

He would always supply you an endless amount of robux. You and Evie, of course. His account however would only have like 5 robux left, whilst yours was like 10k all the time. You had access to his Roblox account, so you’d randomly log into his account and change his avatar a bit here and there.

He also only had two friends on Roblox, that would be you and Evie. For some reason, he had a bunch of followers on Roblox. He always wondered why, since he never even played like that. You had about 200 friends on roblox though. And like a bunch of followers. LOL.

Moving onto the games you play, it ranges from cute girly games to horror games. Most of the time, it’s always dress to impress. Jungkook would always call it boring but also yell whenever he doesn’t place.

You’d play arsenal, mm2, doors, mocker, dead silence, hello kitty café, royale high—likewise.

Also, don’t tell anyone, but sometimes whenever you guys are hanging out, you’d ask him “hey, wanna have e sex?” and go on LifeTogether on Roblox and do it there for shits and giggles. You always found it funny, and he just did whatever would make his girlfriend happy. happy wife = happy life. Oh, and of course you have real sex after^^.

Everytime another headless gets deleted, Jungkook would just spend like 800 robux to buy you another. He’s so cute, you love him so much.

You and Jungkook would have cute matching Roblox fits. His would be all pink and cute, he didn’t care since it was Roblox. You guys would deffo get labelled as a “corny Roblox couple” LOL.

Jungkook’s favourite game though, as corny as it sounds, unfortunately, is dahood💔. You hate that game passionately from the bottom of your soul but he loves it. He logs in and starts fights with randos. Sometimes he would kill you and carry you around the place. He’s done some cute things though. Like once, he planted dahood flowers all over the place and wrote ‘I love you’ on the wall using dahood graffiti.

outfit inspo 4 u guys + dti sneak peak :

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ^ྀི the topic of kids !

“Jungkook?” You ask your boyfriend, who just hums at you. He’s sleepy.

“You ever think of kids?” Your voice is sleepy as you sleep.

There’s a long pause before he speaks again, “with you? Yeah, all the time. Why do you ask?”

It feels nice. It feels really nice to know that he feels the same way about you. He also wants to have children with you. Not now, for sure, but one day.

“I fantasise about our future a lot. You’re not going to leave me, are you? I’ll make chop suey out of your dick and feed it to the sharks if you do.” You threaten him, followed by a yawn. Jungkook just laughs, the sound of his soft laugh echoing from one year to another. You love the sound of it. So, so, so incredibly much.

“You’d have to kill me to make me leave you, my beautiful baby Y/n. Even so, I’d come haunt you as a ghost. ‘M never leaving you alone.”

“You’re gonna make me cry.” You say as your fingers fondle with the gold chain around his neck. “How many kids do you want?”

“Hmm,” he thinks for a moment, “how many does mommy want? I’d like to have as many as you’d want to pop out” ; he ends his sentence with a laugh.

“Mommy wants at least 3.”

He nods, hand patting the crown of your head. “‘Kay, daddy agrees too.”

“You think…I’ll be a good mom?” Your words are a tad bit slurred as the drowsiness is getting to you really bad, but you still ask your question.

“Is that a question? You’re the most patient person I know. You’re the most genuine and kindest person I’ve ever met. Sometimes I don’t understand why you’re still with me because I can be such an asshole sometimes. You’re like, the angel that I was blessed with. You’re the light to my life, the sun to my moon, I don’t know brah”—he pauses and holds you tighter and murmurs, “you know how I feel about you,” into your neck.

You giggle, your grip tightening around your plushy as you blushed. “What are you? A poet?”

“For you, yeah.”

“You’re making me horny. Let’s make a football team.”

[clarii]

Off Limits

Summary: Before Eddie Munson even officially met Dustin’s sister, Dustin warned him to stay far away from her, knowing she was exactly Eddie’s type. But when fate pairs them together as chemistry partners, Eddie can’t help but fall for her — and she starts falling too. One night, when she finally confesses her feelings, Eddie rejects her, torn between his growing feelings and his loyalty to Dustin.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader, Dustin & Eddie friendship, Dustin & Reader sibling relationship

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, rejection, hurt/comfort, protective sibling, pining, happy ending

“Hey, listen—”

Dustin caught Eddie just as he was packing up after Hellfire one night, voice unusually serious.

Eddie raised a brow. “You okay, Henderson? You look like you’re about to give me some sort of intervention.”

Dustin sighed, crossing his arms. “Look, I just… need you to promise me something.”

Eddie smirked. “Sure. Anything. Except giving up metal, or D&D, or my throne as your fearless leader.”

Dustin glared. “I’m serious, dude.” He took a breath. “It’s about my sister.”

That made Eddie straighten slightly, his smirk faltering.

“Yeah?”

“She’s off-limits.”

Eddie blinked. “What?”

Dustin’s face hardened. “I know your type, Munson. She is your type. And I don’t want you messing with her. Like… ever. Got it?”

Eddie scoffed, holding his hands up defensively. “Dude, I haven’t even met her. Chill. I’m not gonna—”

“I mean it.”

There was a rare protective edge to Dustin’s voice that made Eddie nod slowly, the teasing smile dropping.

“Yeah… okay, man. I get it. No funny business. Scouts honor.”

And he meant it.

But then came chemistry class.

It was almost comical how quickly the universe turned on him.

When Mrs. O’Donnell paired him with you for the semester-long chemistry project, Eddie had nearly choked on his gum when you introduced yourself with that soft, shy smile.

“Oh. You’re Henderson’s sister?”

You laughed. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”

And then he was screwed.

You were gorgeous — but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was how easy it was to talk to you. How you rolled your eyes at his bad jokes but laughed anyway. How you didn’t flinch when he rambled about D&D while sketching dragons on his notebook instead of paying attention.

And the flirting? Yeah. That just… happened.

Small touches when passing beakers. Sitting a little too close during study sessions. Him calling you sweetheart and you calling him out for it, but never actually minding.

It was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

————-

The tipping point was a quiet Wednesday night.

Eddie was sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor, guitar pick between his teeth as he scribbled down notes for the chemistry report.

You, meanwhile, weren’t even pretending to focus.

You were too busy watching him — the way his curls fell over his face, the way he bit his lip when he concentrated.

It had been building for weeks.

The crush. The stolen glances. The feeling that maybe… just maybe… he felt it too.

And you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Eddie?”

He looked up, oblivious as ever, still chewing on his pick. “Yeah?”

You exhaled.

“I… I like you. Like, really like you. And I was wondering if… you’d ever consider, maybe, I don’t know… dating me?”

Silence.

Eddie froze, the pick dropping from his lips.

For a moment, he just stared, like he hadn’t heard you right.

Then —

“Wait, what?”

You flushed. “You heard me, Munson. Do you… feel the same? Or… did I totally misread this?”

His mouth opened. Then shut.

Because, God, he did feel the same. He felt everything.

But he also heard Dustin’s voice in his head, loud and clear.

“She’s off-limits.”

Eddie’s heart shattered.

He forced a strained laugh, running a hand through his curls.

“Y/N… you’re great. You really are. But… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your face fell.

“Oh.”

The smile dropped from your lips, embarrassment crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You had been so sure.

“I… I thought—”

Eddie cut you off, voice almost desperate.

“No, it’s not you. I swear. You’re amazing. I just—”

You nodded stiffly, swallowing hard.

“It’s fine. We can just… finish the project another day. I’m not feeling well.”

“Wait, sweetheart—”

But you were already closing the door behind him.

And he felt like the biggest idiot on the planet.

—————

The next day was brutal.

You didn’t speak to him. Didn’t even look at him in chemistry class.

No stolen glances. No quiet jokes.

Just silence.

And it killed him.

—————-

At lunch, Dustin was the first to say something.

“You good, man? You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

Eddie blinked up from where he’d been pushing his food around his tray.

“Yeah… I’m fine.”

Dustin snorted. “You’re so not fine.”

A pause. Then Dustin frowned, glancing between Eddie and where you sat, equally miserable, across the cafeteria.

“Okay, what happened? You and my sister look like someone just kicked your puppies.”

Eddie hesitated.

Then he sighed, dropping his head into his hands.

“I messed up, man. She… she told me she liked me. And I said no.”

Dustin blinked. “Wait, what? But… you like her too. It’s so obvious—”

Eddie groaned. “I know! But you told me she was off-limits, dude! You literally made me promise!”

Dustin paled.

“Oh. Oh, crap.”

“Yeah. Crap.” Eddie stared at the table, voice quieter. “She’s the only girl I’ve ever felt like this about. And I just crushed her because I didn’t wanna lose you as a friend.”

Silence.

Dustin opened his mouth. Then closed it.

Then—

“Dude. I was being an idiot. I thought you’d mess around and break her heart or something, but… you care about her. And she clearly cares about you too.”

Eddie blinked. “You’re not mad?”

Dustin shook his head. “I’m mad you didn’t talk to me sooner. Go fix it, Munson.”

——-

That night, Eddie showed up on your doorstep.

You opened it, blinking in surprise.

“Eddie? What are you—”

He cut you off, words tumbling out.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t say no because I don’t care. I said no because I do care. And because I was scared. Your brother told me to stay away before we even met, and I didn’t wanna lose him as a friend. But pushing you away hurt worse. I like you, Y/N. So much.”

You stared, heart pounding.

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

Eddie winced. “I’m an idiot?”

You gave a watery laugh.

And when he hesitantly reached for your hand — fingers brushing, warm and gentle — you didn’t pull away.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I deserve that.”

“But… I like you too.”

His whole face lit up.

And when he kissed you, slow and soft, everything finally felt right.

The End.

[pedgito]

𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐅𝐔𝐋 | Joel Miller x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Joel finds the perfect way to keep you quiet while he showers you with compliments.

author's note | i saw a text post ages ago that i cannot find that inspired this. here's a vaguely disguised new years themed fic and some pwp to celebrate. not to get sappy on a blowjob fic but i'm very thankful for this community and the ideas that have been shared, love you all <3

content warning | 18+ MDNI, jackson!joel, established dynamic, idiots in love, shy!reader, joel being a quiet lover in public but loud in private, this is a deeply emotional blowjob y'all buckle in, unprotected piv.

word count — 2k

“Am I gonna have to shut you up just so I can tell you how pretty you are?” Joel snarks, only half-joking.

You hated compliments.

Joel loved giving them.

It was a slow work in progress, trying to feel comfortable with the showering of words, the outward affection Joel showed in private. 

He appreciated that you weren’t big on public displays, enjoyed the idea of keeping you and this, all to himself.

But, he liked you—had for some time. It took months of courage before he could bring himself to admit it. It was after a long night of patrol, a grueling walk to your last stop. You had both collapsed in exhaustion on the dirtied couch in the lookout far west of Jackson, delirious with sleep when the words finally left his lips. 

Even then, as he spoke, your hands found their way over your face, the heat of embarrassment prickling your skin as you shied away from him.

He’s learned to do it in subtle ways—a smile, longing looks, a touch, learning that love could be translated in many ways, not just words.

Besides, he wasn’t all that good at words anyways.

You decided to drag him back to your house after the annual New Year's celebration in Jackson—Tommy insisted that it was something to celebrate.

Another year of survival, another year without detrimental loss. Every day was something to cherish, but the party was a way to take a weight off of everyone’s shoulders.

You and Joel had never nailed down exactly what you were doing—just that you enjoyed it, you liked him, and he fancied you. He said it all the time, even now as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“You are so old-fashioned,” You snorted softly, helping him strip the thick winter coat down his shoulders, torn on one sleeve still from a fight with another small group. You had promised to stitch it up. You were good on your promises, he knows you’d get to it eventually. 

He separates from you briefly, placing it carefully over the barstool in your kitchen before he’s pushing you up against your couch, your ass pressing against the hard edge of the back, nearly tumbling as he presses his lips against yours again, your hands curving around the back of his neck as you kiss him back in earnest.

“Somethin’ wrong with that?” He teases, “I know an old man who’s real good at makin’ you scream.”

You giggle softly, “Hush,” You chastise him, allowing him to lead you blind until you both could land on the couch safely, straddling his lap as he worked at your jeans, fitting his hands underneath the denim and cotton of your underwear as he squeezed at your ass, cupping the flesh tight in his hands as you gasp, nudging your nose against his as you breath into his open mouth, “You and that mouth, I swear.”

Joel chuckles, eyes opening to yours closed, hiding your face away as you mouth at his neck, pressing gentle kisses into the skin as he squeezes at your ass harder, a moan slipping past your lips involuntarily.

“There she is,” He says with an air of wonder, like he’d just discovered something new, his overgrown curls tickling at your nose, “s’just me and you—don’t be shy.”

“I’m not—“ You argue, “you know I’m not.”

You widen your legs, grinding down against the growing length beneath the zipper of his jeans, leaning back as his eyes drag down your body, slipping his hands from your jeans to squeeze at your thighs, his bottom lip tucking between his teeth with your lazy rhythm.

“I know, baby,” Joel coos, “need me to fuck you? Don’t you?”

You nod fervently, “Please—Joel, please.”

Your lips part, perching forward to grip into the collar of his shirt as you lazy movements become more frantic, face contorting in pleasure as your tongue glides along your bottom lip, distinctly aware of Joel’s affectionate gaze.

“Fuck—never gonna get tired of that,” Joel speaks aloud, one hand rising to cradle your face as his thumb drags over you wet lip, “how pretty you look when you get needy—pretty all the damn time, but—“

You kiss him quick in an effort to silence him, his laughing blending into a groan as you bite down on his bottom lip, stripping your shirt over your head, tossing it aside before you’re reaching for his belt, loosening it while he licks into your mouth, the subtle taste of malt liquor on your breath.

It matched his own, sharing a drink with him earlier in the night as he hid away in the corner of the room, as he often did at parties, too eager to get his hands on you as he watched you work your magic, gracing your smile upon everyone that passed, keeping up small talk that Joel would rather not suffer through. 

“Got a request,” He tells you, speaking against your lips as you hum in question, “how much d’ya want me to beg to get those lips around my cock?”

You giggle softly, wordlessly you move toward the floor, working against his jeans before he’s helping you shove them down far enough that he can scoop his balls into his hand, rolling them against his fingers as he wraps his other hand around his cock, pushing his thumb over the head as he guides it into your waiting mouth.

It was always a stretch, even like this.

You apply a gentle kiss before your lips spread, the faintest taste of precum at the tip of your tongue before you’re guiding your mouth down his cock, the salty taste of the velvet skin around him, a musky but sweet taste to the opaque liquid gathered at the slit.

“Perfect, fucking perfect,” He breathes, running his finger through your hair as he pushes it back, his other hand hovering nearby, curling into a tight fist as you press your nose into the thick patch of curls at the base, “shoulda stuffed this mouth sooner, seems to do the trick.”

You gag against his forceful movement, burying the head of his cock into your throat so far his teeth clenched, leaving you effectively silenced.

“S’that what it took, a mouthfulla’ cock and you won’t stop me from complimentin’ you for once?”

Beggars can’t be choosers, he’d take it.

And such a pleaser you were, you had a job to do.

Usually he revels in the feeling, subdued and quiet while he watches you work, skilled hands and an exquisite mouth to match, he’d hit the jackpot somehow. 

“Come on, pretty girl,” He encourages, allowing you up for air for a brief moment as your spit slick mouth drools down his shaft, tears brimming your eyes, “fucking beautiful takin’ it all in like that—more?”

You nod, watching as he grips his shaft, tapping the mushroom shaped tip against your lips, teasing you as you slip your tongue along his shaft, guiding you back as you chase his movements.

“Work for it, baby,” He insists, “show me how bad you wan’ it.”

Impatience grows, you huff through your nose as you swat his hand away, wrapping your own hand around his cock instead, your mouth covering what your fingers couldn’t, your other hand cupping his balls, rubbing a single finger down the seam of his sack as you twirled your tongue around the dripping head, lapping up his cum at this slit.

“That’s right, lookin’ like a goddamn dream. Eyes on me, sweetheart,” He beckons, with you peeking through tear-stained eyes, silenced as your mouth is stuffed full of him.

Eventually, your tongue trails along the vein at the underside of his cock, reaching the seam of his sack before you’re rolling his balls along your tongue, sucking them between your lips with a wet noise that causes Joel to groan, his hand squeezing in your hair at the scalp.

“I would keep you like this for hours if you’d let me, wish you could see how fuckin’ amazing you look, gotta know how lucky I am to have you—I am, I’m so lucky, baby.”

In any other context, you would cry. 

It scared you, hearing the admission. The love Joel felt so immensely, the love that terrified you—because when things get too serious, they always go south. 

It was easier to keep things light—fun, simple. As much as you had found a home in Joel, nested in between his ribcage, around his heart—it was still constricting.

Physicality was easy to detach from.

Words, however, meant the world to you.

You couldn’t hear those words unless, in his heart, he truly meant them. Even then, it still terrified you. But, he had you now. Locked on his gaze, the words tumbling from his mouth like a dam finally breaking—you were done for.

“Stick your tongue out,” He orders gently, watching you move away to follow his order, rubbing the head of his cock over the wet, fleshy muscle, “always listenin’ so well, too,”

You feel the heat in your face return as you close your eyes to avoid his intense gaze, sucking him down eagerly as you shift from your haunches to your knees, hurrying your pace as he begins to fall apart, pathetic grunts of half pleasure and half plea filling the room.

Shamelessly, you swallowed him down again as he pressed against the back of your throat, holding yourself in place until he collapsed against the back of the couch, his hands tangled into your hair carelessly as you gagged, a distinct sound that brought Joel over the edge in an instant.

“Oh—oh, fuck. Darlin’, I fuckin’—“ His orgasm surges quickly to the surface, the warm of his cum spreading against your tongue as you swallow him down without hesitation, “God, I’m so in love with you,”

You can feel him shudder against your tongue, cock twitching as you remove him from your mouth, his chest releasing a sigh as he reaches blindly for your hand, silently begging you to come to him. You crawl slowly, careful as you position yourself over him again, his hand pushing your fallen hair away from your face as he pulls you in, breathing heavily into the lazy kiss he presses against your lips.

“Been tryin’ to tell you for so long,” Joel admits with a fond tone, “you’re always shuttin’ me down,”

“I’m sorry,” You admit softly, “S’just—words mean more to me than you think.”

“Oh baby—I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” Joel assures, “I’m not throwin’ that shit around lightly. I mean it—every fuckin’ bit.”

You let the conversation fall silent, eyes scanning over his relaxed expression.

“Is that what it took, though?” Joel teases, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip, pressing against the plush skin, “Gotta shut you up with my cock to tell you all the nice things you deserve to hear?”

“It does help, doesn’t it?” You counter with amusement, his face cracking into a smile, the skin beside his eyes creasing with emotion as you laugh, his own mixing with yours.

“It does,” He agrees with a chuckle, pulling you forward gently to curl his hand around the back of your head and pull you into his chest, echoing a quieter, “It does.”

Still undressed at the waist, Joel nips at your skin, a tell-tale sign of his persistence.

“Slow down, cowboy,” You tease, “It’s almost midnight—can’t have you skippin’ out on our kiss.”

“Better yet, I can start it off inside ‘ya,” He bargains, a deal that seemed far too good to pass up.

Joel is eager in his attempts to get you undressed from the waist down, shrugging his shoes and jeans off completely before you straddle his lap, gripping his cock with a delicate hold, slipping it inside of you slowly, enjoying the contortion of Joel’s expression as your walls squeeze around him. 

You can hear the muffled celebration off in the distance as Joel whispers something unintelligible into your skin, nudging your shirt up high enough with his nose until he can get his mouth on your skin, aiding the slow bounce of your hips with his hands as he pants, “I love you too,” You admit, “f’that wasn’t already clear.”

“Crystal, darlin’—but it is nice to hear.”

There was no rush for now, enjoying the sensation of each other’s bodies in a way that consumed you both, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips as you spoke into his open mouth.

“Happy New Year,” You tell him, fighting through your own quiet giggle.

Joel nods in approval, humming, “S’right—Happy fuckin’ New Year.”

[amirasainz]

Little alonso when she is very small (around the age of 1 or younger), and she is brought with fernando to Media Day because there was no one else to watch her. She is being very quiet and content in her papa's arms.

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

- xoxo babygirl 🤍

Sleepy Baby

The paddock buzzed with its usual energy—engines revving in the background, fans cheering from beyond the gates, and reporters lining up in the media pen to grab their post-session interviews. Fernando walked toward the pen with his one-year-old daughter, Yn, snugly nestled in his arms. Her chubby hands clutched his team jacket, and her head rested against his shoulder. The bright sunlight filtered through her soft brown curls as she blinked at the bustling scene with wide, curious eyes.

There was no one else to watch her today, and Fernando preferred having her close anyway. Yn was his calm in the chaos, her soft coos grounding him in a way nothing else could.

As he stepped into the pen, all eyes turned to the two of them. Fernando was an icon on his own, but seeing him with a baby—a tiny baby—drew immediate attention.

“Fernando! Who’s this little one?” a journalist asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and adoration.

“This is Yn,” Fernando replied, his accent curling around the words as a smile spread across his face. He adjusted Yn slightly in his arms, her small fingers now playing with the zipper of his jacket. “She’s my daughter.”

“She’s adorable,” another chimed in, leaning forward with her microphone.

Yn, sensing the attention, gave the faintest of giggles. Fernando chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.

“Thank you,” he said. “She is my lucky charm today.”

Behind him, Charles and Lando had arrived to do their own interviews. Their eyes immediately darted to Yn, and they exchanged a glance before stepping closer.

“Mate,” Lando began, his voice teasing but soft, “you’ve been hiding her from us all this time?”

Fernando smirked. “She’s not for paddock chaos. But today, there was no choice.”

Charles crouched slightly to get a better look at Yn, his face lighting up when she turned her gaze toward him. “Salut, ma petite,” he said gently. “You’re so calm. How does she do it?”

“She’s always calm,” Fernando replied, stroking her back absentmindedly. Yn let out a tiny yawn, her hands now resting lazily against his chest. “She is like this… most of the time.”

“She’s a baby!” Charles exclaimed. “Most babies I know are… how do you say… chaotic.”

“Mine is perfect,” Fernando said simply, though his proud smile said everything.

Lando leaned in closer, his hands on his knees. “Hey, Yn,” he said softly, “do you like racing?” He made a playful engine sound with his mouth, earning another quiet giggle from her.

“She likes to watch,” Fernando answered for her. “But only highlights. It’s too loud otherwise.”

George strolled over next, curious about the cluster of attention. His eyes softened immediately when he spotted Yn. “Oh, no. Fernando, you’ve officially brought the most charming person in the paddock.”

“Thank you,” Fernando said, brushing Yn’s hair back from her forehead. “She takes after her father.”

“Careful,” Lando quipped. “She might already be more popular than you.”

Fernando chuckled. “Good. She deserves it.”

The journalists were captivated, their usual hard-hitting questions replaced with soft inquiries about Yn. Fernando answered them all patiently, his hand never ceasing its soothing motion on her back. When asked about his race prep, he replied, “This is my preparation,” tilting his head toward Yn. “She keeps me focused.”

As the interviews continued, Yn’s eyelids grew heavier. Fernando’s movements slowed, his voice taking on a softer tone as he answered questions about tire strategies and team updates. Every so often, he’d pause to kiss Yn’s cheek or whisper something to her in Spanish.

From the corner, Max joined the group, arms crossed but his eyes fixed on Yn. “She’s so small,” he said, almost in awe. “How does she stay so quiet?”

Fernando raised an eyebrow. “Why do you assume she would not?”

“Because babies are loud?” Max replied, his tone genuinely curious.

“Not mine,” Fernando said, shifting Yn slightly as she burrowed deeper into his chest. “She understands when it is important to be quiet.”

The group laughed softly, careful not to disturb the little girl who now seemed to be half-asleep.

“Fernando,” a journalist began tentatively, “has becoming a father changed how you approach racing?”

He considered the question, his hand resting on Yn’s head. “It has changed… everything,” he admitted. “Racing is still important, but now, when I finish a session or a race, my first thought is her. I want her to see me… not just as a driver but as her Papà.”

The media collectively melted at his words, scribbling down every heartfelt sentiment. Nearby, the other drivers exchanged knowing smiles. Even the toughest rivalries softened in Yn’s presence.

Eventually, Yn’s soft breaths signaled she was fast asleep. Fernando’s voice dropped to an almost-whisper as he finished his last interview, his arms never faltering despite the length of the session.

As he walked out of the pen, the other drivers trailed behind, still marveling at the tiny girl in his arms.

“Fernando,” Charles called, “next time, bring her to the drivers’ parade.”

Fernando glanced back, a rare sparkle in his eyes. “We’ll see,” he said, a protective edge to his tone.

“Just saying,” Lando added, “she’d definitely steal the show.”

Fernando laughed softly, pressing one last kiss to Yn’s head. “She already has.”

[inkieun]

Pretty Little Thing — Geum Seong-Je x F!Reader (hyun-tak's sister)

His smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—slow, crooked. The kind that said he wasn’t seeing a person. Just… something he could get his hands on. “Well, well,” he said, voice smooth like oil over something sharp. “Didn’t know you came with accessories, Hyun-Tak.”

tw: mean!seongje, dark!seongje, noncon, hairpulling, degradation, exhibitionism, someone getting hit with a belt and lots of dirty talk and blood mentioned as well

wc: 4.6k words

This was requested, and I loved every second of bringing it to life. Keep the requests coming!!

“Hey. You heard anything from Baku?”

Sieun’s voice cut through the air like a dull blade. He didn’t look at Hyun-Tak when he asked. Just stared out at the road, where the light was dying slow against the concrete. The orange glow of early evening stretched long across the ground.

Hyun-Tak exhaled. “No. I haven’t.”

That silence after — fuck, it was loud. It wasn’t the kind you filled with small talk or jokes. It was the kind that dragged its nails down your back, whispering he should’ve called by now.

They stood in a loose circle near the edge of the station. Just the three of them. Waiting. Not for some unspoken tension or invisible weight hanging in the air — just for Hyun-Tak’s sister. The one who always showed up late, always with a smile, always ready to stir the stillness like it bored her. They waited because she made them wait.

The crowd moved past them in a quiet blur — office workers heading home, a girl with a rolling suitcase bumping over the pavement, an old man tossing crumbs to pigeons on the curb. 

They hadn’t heard from Baku in days.

No messages. No sarcastic memes. Not even the usual late-night rants about bad customers and fried chicken grease.

Not since the incident.

A group of teenagers had come into Baku’s dad’s fried chicken shop. They were loud, joking around, flashing fake IDs to buy alcohol. They looked old enough. Baku’s dad didn’t question it. It was a busy Friday night. Orders were piling up. He was tired, distracted. So he sold them the drinks. That should’ve been the end of it. Then someone snitched. And most people had a good guess who it was. The boys who bought the alcohol weren’t just random teenagers—they were part of The Union, a gang known around town for stirring up shit and getting away with it. The police showed up a hours later. Started asking questions. Things escalated fast. Baku’s dad lost his temper—tried to go after one of the boys. No one was hurt, but it was enough. Enough for the cops to arrest him.

The whole thing felt too perfect. Like a setup.

And all signs pointed to Seong-Je.

He’s been trying to get Baku to join the gang for months. Dropping hints. Making quiet threats. Letting him know that saying no wasn’t something The Union took lightly.

But Baku had said no anyway. And he’d meant it.

So when the police suddenly showed up and everything came crashing down, it didn’t feel like bad luck.

It felt like revenge.

Hyun-Tak shifted his weight, hands in his jacket pockets, jaw clenched. “I’m worried about him,” he muttered, eyes fixed on nothing. “Tomorrow after school… maybe we should check in.”

The moment held — just long enough to ache.

And then—

“BOO!”

The scream ripped through the air, shooting straight up Hyun-Tak’s spine. All three of them jolted as if a gun had gone off right next to them. 

“What the actual fuck?” he snapped, whipping around.

I laughed—loud and sharp. Maybe a little cruel. “You should’ve seen your faces,” I said, still catching my breath. “Absolutely priceless.” 

Jun-tae cracked this little smile, all quiet and reluctant. sieun? same neutral face, like always. unreadable. but i caught that twitch in his jaw — he was trying not to laugh. i saw it.

“this guy…” i thought, watching him from the corner of my eye. the way he stood — slouched a little, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket, like he’d been carrying a weight around all day and was too tired to hide it anymore.

Hyun-Tak shoved a hand through his hair, scowling. “Why the hell would you do that? I nearly had a heart attack!”

“Because it’s fun,” I shrugged, already turning on my heel. “Let’s go. Before Mom starts blowing up our phones.”

I didn’t wait for them to follow. The sky was shifting now — soft pink bleeding into indigo, the clouds stretched thin like bruises across the horizon. Streetlights flickered but didn’t fully turn on, like the city was stuck between inhale and exhale.

Their footsteps trailed behind me.

Three shadows walking quiet through golden light and the ghosts of words we hadn’t said yet.

The laughter hadn’t even faded when we heard it—a sharp whistle, quick footsteps, something off behind us. Then—“Shit,” Hyun-Tak muttered. “Don’t look back. Just walk.”

I looked back. Of course I did. And there they were. 

Ten of them at first, cutting through the crowd with that slow, deliberate kind of walk that said they didn’t need to run to catch you.

The Union. Not all of them. But enough.

“Why now?” Jun-tae whispered, voice barely holding together. “We didn’t even do anything—”

“They don’t need a reason,” Sieun said quietly. “They just need a mood.”

That was when we broke into a run. We didn’t scream or shout or call for help. We just moved, fast and quiet, like instinct had finally taken over.

People didn’t stop us. City noise swallowed everything. We weaved through people, past honking cars and blinking crosswalks.

Hyun-Tak shouted over his shoulder, “Cut through here!” and then we were off the main road, darting into the side alley we thought we knew. We’d taken this shortcut a hundred times. But this time, it didn’t feel familiar. This time, it felt like we were walking into a trap. We didn’t stop until the alley swallowed us. Breathless. Hearts pounding.

And then—footsteps behind us, slower now, confident—and when we turned, they were already there; ten shrinking to seven, blocking the exit, blocking the light. 

Seong-Je stepped forward from the center like he’d been waiting for this moment since forever. His jacket was clean, his smile cleaner. But his eyes? Dead cold.

“Well,” he said, voice low and almost amused. “Look who ran straight into our arms.”

Jun-tae tensed. Sieun didn’t move. Hyun-Tak dropped his backpack slowly, like preparing for something he didn’t want to do. Me? I couldn’t stop staring at Seong-Je. 

Seong-Je took another, hands in his pockets like this was just another night, like we were just another problem he could stretch into something fun.

His gaze flicked over us one by one—Jun-tae, Sieun, Hyun-Tak—and then landed on me and stayed. Something in the air shifted. His smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—slow, crooked. The kind that said he wasn’t seeing a person. Just… something he could get his hands on.

“Well, well,” he said, voice smooth like oil over something sharp. “Didn’t know you came with accessories, Hyun-Tak.” 

No one moved.

“I mean—” he looked me over like I was a new toy, “You always this quiet, sweetheart? Or just shy around guys like me?” My heart was hammering, but I didn’t flinch. I wasn’t going to give him that. Still, I felt Hyun-Tak shift beside me. He knew. I knew. We all knew what this was. “She doesn’t talk to rats,” Hyun-Tak snapped. Seong-Je ignored him. “Pretty thing,” he murmured. “Bet you’d look real cute scared. Wonder what you sound like when you cry.”

My stomach turned. I tasted metal. Hyun-Tak moved. Fast. I barely caught the blur of him lunging before one of Seong-Je’s guys slammed him into the wall with enough force to shake the ground. Jun-tae shouted. Sieun looked ready to swing. And I—I couldn’t breathe because I was scared. He looked at me like I was a prize. A thing. 

But Seong-Je just raised a hand, like he was done playing. Like none of this had been real to him.

“No fun if she’s not screaming,” he said with a shrug, turning his back. “Don’t worry, Hyun-Tak. We’ll talk again soon.” He looked at me one last time. Slow. He didn’t walk away. Seong-Je turned back around, that same sick grin tugging at his mouth. “You know,” he said, voice too casual, “we could make this interesting.”

I froze.

His eyes found Hyun-Tak’s. “Let’s settle this old-school. Just you and me.” Hyun-Tak didn’t say anything. Just stared him down, chest heaving from the adrenaline. “If I win…” Seong-Je dragged the words out like he was tasting them, “I get a little time alone with your sister.” My blood turned to ice. “The fuck you just say?” Hyun-Tak growled.

Seong-Je shrugged. “Just a taste. I won’t even leave a mark.”

Jun-tae swore under his breath. Sieun’s fists were already clenched.  Hyun-Tak was already stepping forward. “No deal,” he said, voice like gravel. “But I’m still gonna knock your fucking teeth out.” Seong-Je’s smirk widened. “That’s the spirit.” And then it started.

It wasn’t a street fight. It was vicious. Fast. Brutal. Seong-Je was all precision and spite—every punch a punishment, every hit like he was trying to prove something.

Hyun-Tak landed a few, sure. But the Union boys flanked close—laughing, taunting. One of them tripped him. Another grabbed his hoodie long enough to slow him down.

Seong-Je didn’t fight fair. He never did.

A punch to the stomach. A knee to the ribs.

Then an elbow that cracked across Hyun-Tak’s jaw and dropped him to the ground like a shot deer.

“Stay down,” Seong-Je hissed, standing over him. “Or I’ll go ahead and collect my prize.”

And that—That was it. I stepped forward. Jun-tae grabbed my arm. “Don’t,” he whispered.

I shook him off. Seong-Je turned to me, smug and stupid. I spat. Right at his feet. “Touch me,” I said, voice steady. “And you’ll wake up choking on your own dick.”

Something in his smirk faltered. I dropped beside Hyun-Tak, hands shaking, barely aware of the blood on his face or the way his breath rasped in and out. I just needed to make sure he was still breathing.

“Hey,” I whispered, my voice tight. “Stay with me, okay?” But then—Something yanked me back. Hard. The strap of my bag wrenched against my shoulder and I lost balance, falling backward with a sharp gasp. My palms scraped the pavement as I hit the ground.

I barely had time to turn before I saw him. Seong-Je. Towering over me like a shadow pulled loose from the wall. His hand still clenched around my bag. His eyes locked on mine.

And the way he was looking at me—Like I was something small. Something his. He leaned in, letting go of my bag strap, his fingers sliding up to grip my chin instead—firm, possessive. His smile was slow, deliberate. “Wow,” he murmured, voice like velvet. “You look so pretty beneath me.” My stomach twisted. I froze. My throat clenched tight as my mind screamed move, fight, run—but my body refused.

I wanted to scream. To shove him away. To do something. But my limbs felt heavy. Useless. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, drowning out the world, drowning out me. And in that moment, I felt small. Powerless. And he was so close.

I hated the fear crawling up my spine, hated how real it felt. Tears stung my eyes as Seong-Je's brutal grip tightened on my chin, forcing me to meet his cold, manic stare. The sickening grin twisting his handsome features sent icy tendrils of pure terror snaking through my veins. I was trapped, helpless, as he dragged me up to my knees, my body betraying me by refusing to fight back.

"Fuck, look at you," Seong-Je purred, voice dripping with cruel amusement. "Such a pretty little thing, all scared and trembling. It's fucking beautiful." He turned to the others, barking orders. "Dong-Ha, Seong-Mok, get the cameras rolling. I want every fucking second of this recorded." Without hesitation, Seong-Mok pulled out his phone, already flipping it to video mode and started recording.

Seeing the phone pointed straight at me made something in my chest collapse. Cold panic surged through me. My breath hitched. I turned my face slightly, instinctively trying to hide, even though I knew there was nowhere to go. The light from the screen glared like a spotlight, unblinking and cruel. And then Seong-Je laughed.

“Aww,” he said, voice dripping with mock pity. “Getting all shy now that the camera’s rolling?” He leaned in close again, his breath brushing my ear. “What’s wrong? You were making such pretty noises a second ago. Don’t tell me you’re camera-shy.” His words hit like acid—slow-burning and meant to leave scars. I clenched my teeth, blinking fast, my hands fists at my sides. Shame and fear tangled in my chest until I didn’t know which would break me first.

My heart jackhammered against my ribs, blood roaring in my ears. Panic clawed at my throat, choking me, as I watched Jun-tae struggle against the union thugs holding him back. No one could save me. No one was coming.

Seong-Je’s fingers clamped around my cheeks, digging in hard enough to bruise as he wrenched my face side to side—examining me like I was nothing more than meat. His eyes glinted with something unhinged, something wrong. That same look villains wore in horror films, right before they stopped pretending to be human. “Stop fucking around,” he growled, voice rough and full of heat. Spit hit my skin as he yanked my jaw back, grip punishing. “Be a good little slut and hold still.” The words struck like a slap—sharp, humiliating, meant to shatter. I squeezed my eyes shut, a broken whimper slipping from my throat before I could stop it. He leaned in closer, his breath brushing my cheek, thick with heat and cruelty.

“You like this,” he hissed. “Don’t pretend you don’t.”

I didn’t answer.

He stared at me for a moment, breath ragged, chest rising like he was barely keeping himself contained.

And then—he let go.

His hand dropped from my face fast and rough, like even touching me disgusted him now.

My jaw throbbed. My pulse raced.

And all I could do was sit there, shaking, heart slamming against my ribs. God, please make it stop. Please, someone help me. 

There was no help coming. Only the echo of cruel laughter bouncing off brick and the sharp bite of cold air against my skin.

He stood in front of me, eyes locked on mine—glinting with something violent. Something wrong. But it wasn’t just the danger that made my breath hitch. It was the way he looked at me.

He licked his lips, head tilted, gaze sliding down my body like he was cataloging every breath I took. “You look real pretty like this,” he murmured. “Scared.”

He reached for his belt. Slowly. Deliberately.

The leather whispered through the loops, one soft, ominous pull at a time. The sound was almost too loud in the quiet. Like a countdown.

I watched, heart pounding wildly, as he rolled the belt between his fingertips, the black leather glinting darkly in the harsh sunlight. His eyes never left mine, boring into me with a predatory intensity that made my blood run cold.

He folded the belt in half, the two ends dangling menacingly as he took a step closer, backing me up against the rough brick wall. The heat of the sun, the unyielding cold of the bricks, and the sheer, icy menace radiating from Seong-Je created a terrifying juxtaposition of sensations.

"Such a pretty little thing," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "So soft and helpless. I can't wait to mark up this delicate skin." He reached out, trailing the folded edge of the belt lightly down my cheek, the leather cool and smooth against the feverish heat of my skin.

I flinched, a choked whimper catching in my throat, but I remained frozen, paralyzed by the dark promise in his eyes and the cold, unyielding pressure of the belt. The world seemed to slow, every movement deliberate and laden with threat.

Seong-Je's hand slid lower, the belt dragging across the racing pulse in my neck, making me shudder. The air between us was thick with anticipation, the heavy silence broken only by the distant, muffled sounds of the city that seemed a world away.

He paused, belt poised just above my collarbone, his gaze locked with mine. In that moment, I saw the monster lurking beneath the handsome exterior, the cruel sadist who would take twisted pleasure in my pain and degradation.

Then, with a sinister smile, he raised the belt, and everything changed. The first crack of leather against skin shattered the tense silence, and my screams echoed off the alleyway walls as my nightmare truly began.

The belt came down hard across my breasts my shirt doing noting to protect me from the sharp sting of the leather biting into my soft flesh. I cried out, arching away from the brutal impact, but there was no escape from Seong-Je's relentless assault. He followed me, crowding into my space, pinning me against the rough brick wall with his body as he raised the belt again.

"Fuck, listen to those pretty screams," he growled, dark eyes glinting with sadistic amusement. "I knew you'd have a nice set of lungs on you." I looked up at him, terrified, breath catching in my throat. I could hear Hyun-Tak beside us, shouting—his voice raw, panicked, and cracking under the weight of it all.

“Please,” he begged. “Please, leave her alone! She didn’t do anything! I’m the one you want—take it out on me, not her, please—”

The sound of him begging shattered something in me.

“I’m the one you want,” he repeated, choked and broken now. “She’s my sister. Please, Seong-Je, I’m begging you!”

Seong-Je turned his head slowly, his jaw tight with something colder than rage.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped. The words hit like a gunshot, slicing through Hyun-Tak’s pleas like a knife. The look he shot Hyun-Tak could’ve killed. Cold. Merciless. Like a loaded gun aimed straight at his soul, then his attention was back on me, his fingers brushing my face with mock-gentleness that made my skin crawl.

“He’s so fucking annoying,” Seong-Je muttered with a smirk, like Hyun-Tak’s begging was nothing more than background noise. “Now… where was I?” Hyun-Tak’s voice cracked again in the background—still begging, still dragging himself forward on trembling limbs—until Dong-Ha stepped in and slammed a boot into his side, knocking the breath out of him with a brutal thud. 

Seong-Je tugged my shirt open with slow, deliberate hands, exposing the bruises and welts blooming across my skin—his marks.

“Look at you,” Seong-Je murmured, voice low and dangerous, like velvet soaked in sin. “Marked up so fucking pretty.”

The leather strap in his grip dragged across my chest, cold and smooth, tracing the line of one welt like a signature.

“I knew you’d have perfect tits,” he said, almost reverent. “Can’t wait to feel them in my hands—see how they respond when I take my time.”

He dropped the belt, the sound of it hitting the ground a dark promise. His hands replaced it immediately, gripping my breasts hard enough to bruise, fingers sinking into the soft flesh. He squeezed and kneaded, his touch rough and demanding, bordering on painful.

I whimpered, trying to pull away, but he pulled me up fast from my knee, his hips pinning mine to the wall. I could feel his dick pressing against me through his pants, grinding against my stomach. Revulsion churned in my gut, but I was trapped, helpless to stop his exploration.

"Such a fucking tease," Seong-Je snarled, twisting my nipples hard. "Flashing your tits, flaunting this sexy little body. You knew what you were doing, didn't you?"

“Seong-Mok!” Seong-Je barked, voice cutting through the air like a whip. “Get over here.” Seong-Mok shoved Jun-Tae to the ground without hesitation, knowing he was too shaken to fight back.

“I want this on camera,” Seong-Je said, eyes never leaving me. “Every fucking second.”

Fear gripped me as Seong-Je fumbled with his pants, freeing his cock. Before I could react, he grabbed my thigh, hiking my leg up to wrap around his hip. I was forced to balance on one foot, the position leaving me vulnerable and exposed.

"Fuck, look at you," Seong-Je growled, rubbing the swollen head of his cock along my clothed slit, teasing, tormenting. "Such a pretty little thing, all scared and shaking. You want this, don't you? Want me to fill this tight pussy with my cock?"

I shook my head frantically, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks. "No, please don't-"

"Shut up," he snapped, hand fisting in my hair, wrenching my head back. "Don't fucking lie to me. I can feel how wet you are."

He punctuated his words by shoving my panties aside and driving forward, splitting me open on his thick shaft. I screamed, the sudden intrusion burning, stretching me past the point of comfort. He was so big, so hard, filling me completely.

"Fuck, so goddamn tight," Seong-Je grunted, starting to move. He set a brutal pace, pounding into me, the obscene slap of skin on skin echoing in the alleyway. "Gonna ruin this pussy, make it mine, right baby."

I tried to turn my face away from his intense stare, overwhelmed, degraded, but he grabbed my chin, forcing me to hold eye contact. His thumb pressed hard against my bottom lip, pushing into my mouth.

"Look at me when I fuck you, baby," he demanded, voice rough and ragged. "I want to see those pretty eyes when you come."

I whimpered, squeezing my eyes shut, but he just swore

"No, no, no. Look. At. Me," Seong-Je snarled each word, punctuating them with sharp thrusts that punished my cervix. His fingers dug into the flesh of my thigh hard enough to leave bruises, holding me in place as he railed into me.

Even with Seong-Je towering over me, every breath shallow and sharp, I could still hear Hyun-Tak—his voice breaking with panic.

“Please,” he begged, again and again. “Please, stop it!”

The sound of his voice tore straight through me.

It was desperate like something had cracked wide open inside him and all that was left was fear.

But Seong-Je didn’t even glance back.

“Shut the fuck up,” he yelled back still looking at me with that nasty smile on his face. But Hyun-Tak didn’t stop. He was still trying to crawl toward me, coughing, one hand dragging along the concrete as Dong-Ha moved to block him again. Behind him, Jun-Tae pushed himself up from the ground, shaking. “You’re sick,” he spat, voice cracking. “You’re fucking sick, Seong-Je—” He didn’t get to finish. Seong-Mok backhanded him hard enough to knock him into the wall, where he slid down, dazed but still conscious. And then Sieun. Still standing. Still silent. But his hands were clenched into fists so tight they were bleeding at the knuckles. His eyes locked on Seong-Je like he was memorizing every inch of him—planning something, but he couldn’t move.

"Fucking hell, you're gripping me so nicely," he groaned, hips slapping lewdly against mine. "Such a perfect little cock sleeve."

His other hand slid up my body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He wrapped his fingers around my throat, squeezing just enough to make my heart stutter. I gasped for air, dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the brutal pace of his fucking.

"Please," I choked out, voice raspy and weak. "It hurts... you're hurting me..."

"Hurts so good though, doesn't it?" he purred darkly, thumb pressing into my windpipe. "I can feel how much you love it. Your greedy little pussy is sucking me in, begging for more."

Seong-Je leaned in close, breath hot and ragged against my ear. "I'm going to fuck this pussy until it's molded to the shape of my cock," he promised viciously. "Until you forget your own name and only remember mine. I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

His words sent a chill down my spine, a terrifying mix of fear and a perverse, unwanted thrill. I knew he meant every dark, depraved promise. He was going to break me and remake me into his twisted plaything, filming every brutal second of my defilement. The camera lenses felt like a thousand accusing eyes, immortalizing my shame.

Seong-Je's hips stuttered, his cock swelling impossibly thicker inside me. I knew he was close, knew what was coming. With a guttural growl, he pulled out abruptly, leaving me feeling hollow and violated.

"On your knees, babe," he barked, shoving me down hard onto the filthy alleyway. My knees scraped against the rough concrete, but I had no time to register the pain before Seong-Je grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. "Open up," he demanded, stroking his thick, angry red cock. "I want to see my cum dripping down your pretty face."

I whimpered, trying to turn away, but his grip was unforgiving. The first hot spurt of his release splattered across my cheek. I choked on a sob as he painted my face with his seed, each pulse of his cock leaving me more degraded than the last.

"Fuck, look at that," Seong-Je groaned, his other hand guiding Seong-Mok's camera to capture every humiliating detail. "Such a perfect little cum dumpster. You love this, don't you? Love being my personal slut?"

I shook my head frantically, but the words died in my throat as another stream of cum hit my parted lips. The bitter taste filled my mouth, making me gag.

Seong-Je finally released his grip on my hair, tucking himself back into his pants with practiced ease. He straightened his clothes, fixing the disheveled appearance, while I remained on my knees, his cum dripping down my chin and onto my heaving chest.

He turned to Hyun-Tak, his earlier frenzied state replaced by a cold, calculated demeanor. "Tell Baku," Seong-Je said, voice smooth and menacing, "that if he doesn't agree to join the union, this will be a daily occurrence. I'll make sure of it."

His eyes glinted with a cruel, twisted promise. "And if that's not enough motivation..." He paused, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. "I could always make your sister my new plaything. Let the union boys have a go at her too. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Hyun-Tak froze. The blood drained from his face, horror blooming wide in his eyes. Seong-Je turned away like he hadn’t just shattered the ground beneath us. “Let’s go,” he muttered to the union guys. And just like that, they disappeared into the alley’s shadows, taking their laughter and threats with them.

For a second, no one moved. The silence was deafening.

Then Hyun-Tak stumbled forward, faster than I could react, falling to his knees in front of me. His hands trembled as he reached for me—fixing my shirt, gently pulling the torn fabric over my chest, his eyes flicking up to mine with a thousand things he wanted to say but couldn’t. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so—are you okay? Are you hurt?” I shook my head, but the words were stuck in my throat.

Jun-Tae hovered behind him, scraped up and stunned, eyes wide like he couldn’t process what just happened. Sieun stood a few steps back, fists still clenched, breathing uneven. His gaze was locked on where Seong-Je had disappeared. Focused. Like something in him had just shifted. None of us spoke. Because there was nothing left to say.

fin

© 2025 mymelllllinda

[aleese1111]

hii! Could you pleaaase make a baekjin x fem!reader x seongje, i haven’t seen anything like this and ik you’ll write it goooddd 🥹🫶🏻

three wolves, one flame | geum seong je x union!reader x na baek jin

summary: they run the city’s shadows with cold hands and colder eyes—two boys circling the same girl like orbiting wolves, too stubborn to say they care, too loyal to walk away. in smoke, silence, and bruised affection, they protect what they won't name.

warnings: [slow burn] violence, blood, language, implied emotional trauma, smoking,

author's note: i lowkey fell in love with this one. contemplating if i should turn this into a series or just mini chapters because i have no idea on how to continue this.. so please lmk, anyway! requests ,,

✶ ᶻz .ᐟ , one .. two .. ??

the air inside baek jin’s office always smelled like old paper, cigarette smoke, and something faintly metallic—like blood that never quite left the floor. the room was small but efficient. a modest desk sat tucked against the far wall, cluttered with files and an aging laptop baek jin used for both homework and union logistics. behind him, shelves groaned under the weight of ledgers, envelopes, and binders—some labeled, some not. a coat rack stood near the door, his school uniform jacket hanging neatly as always, untouched and ghost-like.

on the couch, which was barely wide enough for two, she sat cross-legged, a thick folder open on her lap. her fingers were stained with ink and nicotine, flipping pages with practiced speed. her brows were drawn tight in concentration, but her mouth was already forming insults.

“you’re breathing too loud. move.”

beside her, seong je let out a long, lazy exhale, smoke trailing from his lips. “it’s my lungs. want me to stop breathing next?” his thumb scrolled absently on his phone.

“you say that like it’s a bad idea.”

“you like having me around. admit it.”

she snorted. “i’d rather put out this cigarette in my eye.”

baek jin didn’t look up from his desk. this was routine. predictable. he only paused for a second when seong je flicked a crumpled receipt at her face, smirking when it bounced off her forehead.

“touch me again, i will rip your ears off and mail them to your mother,” she said, without even flinching.

“joke’s on you, she’s already deaf.”

that earned him a hard jab to the ribs with the sharp edge of a folder. he groaned theatrically, tipping his head back against the couch and blowing smoke toward the ceiling.

“i swear to god, you're like a feral cat with a calculator,” he muttered.

“and you’re a hemorrhoid with a motorcycle license.”

baek jin turned a page. the yelling had escalated, but it was background noise. normal. expected.

the argument died the same way it always did—abruptly and without resolution.

she slammed the folder shut and stood. the air shifted. joon and gyung, who had been waiting outside the office door like loyal shadows, straightened as she stepped out.

“collection day,” she said simply, already moving.

seong je rolled his shoulders and stood with her, but she didn’t wait. joon and gyung fell in line behind her like trained dogs, their footsteps echoing as the group left the safe walls of the bowling alley and stepped into the dusk.

@ . !

they found them behind a school, deep in the alley that smelled like piss and motor oil. it was a place for things that didn’t want to be seen—perfect for business.

a few boys loitered under the flickering light. low-ranking union lackeys, careless with the rules. she stopped a few feet away, her presence slicing through the tension like a box cutter.

“you’ve got my money?” she asked, voice cool, indifferent.

one of the boys stepped forward. too confident. too dumb. “you don’t get to bark orders at us, bitch.”

seong je was sitting nearby, on a low concrete barrier, smoking. he didn’t move. not yet. he was watching, the way a wolf watches another predator test its luck.

she didn’t blink. “you’re two days late.”

the guy stepped closer, nudging her shoulder. once. twice.

“maybe you wait a little longer,” he said with a smirk. “maybe say please.”

behind her, joon and gyung tensed. she didn’t say anything, just gave a lazy glance to her left.

gyung understood the signal.

the jab to the gut was fast and brutal—air left the guy’s lungs like a popped balloon. he stumbled back, wheezing, while the others flinched. two of them ran.

“go,” she said calmly.

joon darted after them.

only two remained: the one bent over in pain, and another who hadn’t moved yet, watching with wide eyes, deciding if he wanted to be stupid or not.

she crouched beside the first guy, lit another cigarette with a flick of her lighter, and exhaled slowly.

“you work for me,” she said. “you pay, or you bleed. got it?”

the second guy tensed—fight won the war in his brain.

he lunged.

he never reached her.

seong je was a blur of violence—one second on the edge of the scene, the next driving a fist into the boy’s face hard enough to drop him instantly. no words. no warning. just pure, sharp brutality.

he didn’t stop.

fists rained down, calculated and furious. blood splattered against the wall. the sound of bone meeting flesh echoed through the alley.

she stood slowly, arms crossed, cigarette glowing.

“enough,” she said.

seong je didn’t look at her right away. his fists paused mid-motion. then he stood, blood staining his knuckles, breathing hard.

she met his eyes for a moment. something silent passed between them. then she turned and walked away.

“get the cash,” she called over her shoulder.

gyung moved without question.

seong je wiped his hand on his shirt and lit a new cigarette. he glanced once at the boy groaning on the ground and then followed her into the dark.

business, as always, was done.

@ . !

the streets were quieter now. the sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows that swallowed the cracks in the pavement. she walked ahead, cigarette still burning between her fingers, the orange tip flaring with every drag. her steps were calm, composed, like she hadn’t just threatened teenagers and watched one get half-pulped into a brick wall.

behind her, seong je followed. blood still clung to the ridges of his knuckles, crusting dry in the creases, but he didn’t care. he never did. he flicked his own cigarette aside and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

they walked in silence for a while, their footsteps echoing softly in rhythm. the kind of quiet that buzzed—static thick with unspoken things.

“you know,” seong je finally said, “you could’ve told gyung to handle it before that dumbass even touched you.”

she didn’t look at him. “he barely touched me.”

“he pushed you.”

“and i didn’t fall. so?”

he scoffed, catching up until they walked shoulder to shoulder. “you’re insane.”

“says the guy who beat someone half to death over a shoulder nudge.”

he grinned. “you like it when i get violent.”

she rolled her eyes. “i like it when you shut the fuck up.”

“but you let me handle it.”

“i let you burn calories.”

seong je laughed under his breath, a short, dry sound. “you’re welcome, by the way.”

“for what?”

“for being your unhinged guard dog.”

“you’re not my anything.”

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he glanced sideways at her—at the bruise just barely starting to form on her collarbone where the guy had pushed her, at the cigarette held steady between her fingers, at the calm, calculated cold in her eyes.

he liked her too much. it was a problem he hadn’t figured out how to fix.

“...you patched me up last week,” he muttered. “don’t pretend like you don’t care.”

“i patched you up so you wouldn’t bleed on baek jin’s couch.”

“sure,” he said. “totally believable.”

she slowed a bit, enough that he noticed but didn’t comment. she glanced over, squinting at him through the dimming light.

“you’re bleeding,” she said flatly.

“you always say that like it’s a surprise.”

she stopped walking. so did he.

“you’re an idiot,” she said, stepping in close. her hand reached for his face, thumb brushing a cut on his cheekbone. it was rough, not tender—like everything she did. “you didn’t have to go that far.”

“he was gonna hit you.”

“i had it handled.”

“yeah,” he muttered, not smiling anymore. “but i don’t like watching people touch you.”

her expression didn’t change. not much. maybe a flicker in her eyes. maybe.

she shoved his face gently to the side with the palm of her hand. “possessive freak.”

he grinned again. “you love it.”

“i tolerate it.”

“that’s practically a love confession coming from you.”

she started walking again. “say one more word and i’ll smoke my cigarette out on your forehead.”

he laughed, trailing behind her.

and behind the sarcasm and bruised knuckles, there was something solid between them—twisted, loud, dysfunctional.

@ . !

by the time they reached the back entrance of the bowling alley, the sky had faded to charcoal grey. the neon sign buzzed above them, flickering like it was trying to decide whether to die or hang on another day. she pushed the door open with her shoulder and stepped inside, the familiar scent of oil, dust, and stale air greeting her like a second home.

seong je followed her, hands still in his pockets, quieter now. at the door to baek jin’s office, he hesitated. she paused, looking back at him.

“i’m heading to the internet café,” he said, voice casual, but his eyes lingered on her a little longer than necessary. “need to blow off some steam.”

she shrugged, already reaching for the doorknob. “go waste your brain cells.”

he smirked. “you love me dumb.”

“don’t flatter yourself.”

she pushed the door open and stepped inside. he didn’t follow.

“patch your hand,” she added over her shoulder. “or don’t. maybe it’ll rot off.”

“aw, worried about me,” he teased.

she gave him the finger without turning around.

he chuckled and walked off, footsteps fading down the hall.

inside, baek jin didn’t look up as she entered. he was at his desk, sleeves rolled up, pencil in hand, methodically underlining something in one of the ledgers. the room felt quieter without seong je in it—thicker, somehow.

she dropped her bag beside the couch and sank into it with a tired exhale. the tension hadn’t left her body yet, but it always faded in here. in this space where time moved slower, where baek jin never asked more than she wanted to give.

“you’re back early,” he said after a moment, eyes still on the paper.

“boys ran faster than usual.”

he nodded once. “anyone give you trouble?”

she pulled another cigarette from her pocket. “one tried. he didn’t try again.”

this time, baek jin did look up. his eyes flicked to her shoulder, narrowing slightly. “you’re bruised.”

“occupational hazard,” she muttered, lighting up.

he stared at her a second longer, then stood. she watched him cross the room in that quiet, deliberate way he moved—like he didn’t waste energy on anything that didn’t matter. he disappeared behind her for a moment. when he came back, he tossed his jacket over her.

she stiffened slightly, cigarette hovering near her lips.

“still cold,” he said simply, sitting back down.

“i’m not cold.”

“you always say that.”

she didn’t take it off.

they sat like that for a while. just the two of them. him scribbling quietly. her smoking in silence, baek jin’s jacket draped over her shoulders like it belonged there.

no yelling. no banter.

just stillness.

the only sound for a long while was the scratch of baek jin’s pencil against paper and the occasional soft crackle of her cigarette.

“you let seong je come with you again,” baek jin said eventually, not looking up.

she snorted. “he follows me around like a leech. what am i supposed to do? spray him with bug repellent?”

“he’s loud,” baek jin replied calmly.

“so are you, when you feel like it.”

“not with fists.”

she gave a half-smirk, flicking ash into the tray on the coffee table. “you jealous?”

“no,” he said plainly. “he’s reckless. you’re not.”

“he only steps in when i let him.” she tilted her head against the back of the couch, eyes drifting toward the ceiling. “you know that.”

baek jin hummed, noncommittal, and went back to his work.

for a while, there was nothing but silence again. not awkward. not empty. just their kind of quiet.

“you still live off convenience store food?” she asked after a minute, squinting at him.

“i eat what’s easy.”

“that’s not eating. that’s survival.”

“i survive just fine.”

“could’ve fooled me,” she muttered, stretching out along the couch. “you’re gonna die from sodium poisoning before you even graduate.”

“and you’ll die from chain-smoking before i do.”

“touché,” she murmured, a tired smile curling at the corner of her mouth.

her voice grew softer, like sleep was already tugging at her edges. “...how do you do it?”

baek jin paused, pencil hovering over the paper. “do what?”

“stay calm all the time. even when shit hits the fan. even when everyone’s losing their heads.” her voice had dropped low. “how do you not break?”

he was quiet for a beat.

then, “because if i break, everything else does.”

she didn’t answer. her breathing was slowing now, cigarette burned out in the ashtray. she was curled on her side, one arm under her head, the other tugging baek jin’s jacket closer around her like she hadn’t meant to.

he glanced up, setting his pencil down soundlessly.

she was already asleep.

he stood, walked over with soft steps, and crouched beside the couch. carefully, he pulled the jacket tighter over her frame and adjusted the pillow under her head. for a second, his hand hovered near her temple, like he wanted to brush the hair away from her face—but didn’t.

baek jin’s face didn’t show much. it never did.

but something flickered in his eyes. something quiet. protective.

then he stood, returned to his desk, and went back to work.

behind him, she slept soundly under his jacket, breathing even and steady.

and outside, the world kept turning. dangerous. unforgiving.

but in here, for a little while longer, it was still.

✶ ᶻz .ᐟ , one .. two .. ??

[fear-is-truth]

𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 𝑫𝑨𝑫 .ᐟ

𓂃 ꒰ headcanons.꒱ gn!reader x jason (est. relationship) + fluff ⌗ ( 💌 let’s chat ! ) ⋆ ( m.list ) ࿐ ⸝⸝ ⸝⸝

· ❥ 𝐚/n : very rushed; i was sick when i wrote this

first & foremost, jason todd is girl dad through and through. the moment he holds her for the first time, he recalibrates everything—speech, sleep, temper, priorities—without even realising he’s doing it.

he won’t dilute language for her sake. no sing-song voice, no “whoops-a-daisy!” crap. he speaks to her like a small, reasonably intelligent civilian. when she babbles near-nonsense in response, he nods seriously:

“interesting take. but you’re still not eating crayons.”

when she starts talking, she parrots him with terrifying accuracy. says “bullshit” in perfect context. he side-eyes you like “that might’ve been you” but it was 100% him. he starts substituting in dumb phrases like “holy fork” and “crud nuggets” which somehow sound even more offensive in his voice.

his gut wrenches every time he sees her hurt. no matter how small the injury, how quick the recovery .

“it’s okay to cry, you know.” “m’ not crying.” she sniffles hard, mouth twitching. he takes a breath, carefully brushing dirt from her elbow with the sleeve of his shirt. “…good. because if you did, i might have to start too.” her bottom lip quivers. then she throws her arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder while he holds her.

he gives her choices. always. because no one gave him any. ‘pink cardigan or the baby blue one? park or zoo? sandwiches cut into triangles or squares?’ she doesn’t know why the questions matter—not yet—but she answers anyway. and he always listens. even when she changes her mind five seconds later.

when she gets scared of the monster under her bed, jason grabs a crowbar from the hallway closet, locks himself in her room, and puts on a full performance. loud bangs, snarls, curses, all muffled through the door. she waits outside clutching your hand, wide-eyed. when he opens the door, slightly sweaty:

“we’re clear. monster’s in pieces. bedtime.”

absolutely watches disney movies with her. you once catch him mouthing along to i’ll make a man out of you with perfect accuracy.

her room is stocked full of high quality toys: watercolor paint sets, pop-up books, wooden animal figurines, everything he would’ve killed to touch when he was little.

when she gets sick, even the most minor of colds send jason into a tailspin. not outwardly though; outwardly he’s calm & reassuring—but he looking up symptoms and staying up beside her bed with one hand on her forehead, watching the rise and fall of her breath like it might stop at any second.

if you’re out for the day, he sends you hourly photo updates: her sitting in her booster seat, her eating grapes, her mid-nap with a book across her lap.

insists she learn how to throw a punch and memorize your phone number before she enters kindergarten.

she mirrors his sarcasm & sass too well.

you and jason have developed a “tag-team” parenting style—he picks up on your cues instinctively. if you’re too tired to argue with a picky toddler, he just whips up grilled cheese without a word and makes her think it was your idea.

and if she’s crying—inconsolably so—you both sit beside her and jason lets you do the talking. she always opens up eventually, even if it’s just, “i didn’t wan’ the poor banana to break.” (???)

she looooooves curling into him. a six-o kind of love, paired with matter-of-fact trust. she’ll press her forehead to his cheek while holding her sippy cup. tug at his sleeve when she wants to sit in his lap.

her vocabulary is way beyond her age. not just because of books; she mimics his cadence. jason once commented she was “morally opposed” to cauliflower. days later, she informed the pediatrician she was “philosophically anti-broccoli.” this had you laughing uncontrollably.

bedtime isn’t “lights out,” it’s literature hour! jason reads her stories with perfect enunciation and blunt dignity. she grows up on peter rabbit, winne-the-pooh, madeleine, and eventually segues to aesop’s fables, abridged dickens. the sound of pages turning becomes part of her core memories.

as her vocabulary progresses in a rapid fashion, jason still reads to her every night without fail: brontë. shelley. woolf. austen. he edits on the fly when needed, replacing death with long naps and violence with “stern talking-tos.”

four years of age, your little girl is already quoting jane eyre in front of her classmates.

she wins the spelling bee every year!

she told her entire kindergarten class that her daddy is an actual zombie, which resulted in an email from her teacher, regarding “concerns about her vivid imagination.” jason’s only response is, “technically, that’s not inaccurate.”

she loves all of her uncles, but it’s clear that uncle dick is her favourite. she likes him so much it’s borderline treason. jason pretends to be grumpy about it but secretly finds it endearing how much she adores his brother.

he can’t stand the thought of her going hungry. she’s never missed a meal, but he still packs too much in her lunchbox when it’s his turn. carries snacks in his glove compartment, keeps fruit cut up and ready in the fridge, just in case. he remembers what it felt like to open the fridge and find nothing but condensation. his little girl won’t ever know that.

꒰ ⠀· ❥  𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑-𝐈𝐒-𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content. ꕀ

[bu3ck3r]

still yours

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

wc: 5k

a/n: DALLAS WON IM SO HAPPY anyways this is the prompt tysm anon and im sorry that i haven’t been much active lately but i have a 2nd degree sun burn all over my body so i couldnt really move and finish this quicker but let me know if you liked ittt

paige laughed, breath a little too sharp, a little too loud. she’d just nailed a perfect three-pointer, the ball rolling clean through the net. teammates cheered. it should’ve felt like a win. but she turned, scanning for azzi—and found only an empty bench by the locker-room doors.

her heart clenched.

three nights without several texts, no good mornings, no spiels-of-support over video call. that wasn’t like them. and three days was starting to feel like a chasm.

the night before, she’d tried twice. sent a text when practice ended. nothing. a day later, paige had called, but no answer. she stared at the phone, thumb shaking over the screen. “you first,” she’d whispered to herself, recalling their argument from earlier that afternoon. it had been small—something about wanting different ways to decompress. but it blew up fast.

and paige, stubborn as she was in games, had walked away.

now she paced the hardwood outside the gym, mind twitching with replayed lines: “we can’t keep doing this.” azzi had said that. paige had bitten back: “maybe you need it.”

at 6:00 pm, the lights flicked off. teammates drifted toward cars and dorms. paige lingered, paced, heart loud like a drumline. maybe she’d been harsh. she’d been in a mood—preseason stress, half a dozen extra reps each night. but she missed azzi. missed her voice. even missed the petty fights.

she wiped sweat from her forehead and walked to the locker-room door. coach’s voice boiled low inside. just practice wrap-up. paige’s fingers paused on the handle.

she was about to open it.

then she stopped. pride. stubborn streak. this… this was azzi’s turn to reach out. that’s what she told herself. so she pretended not to see azzi’s hooded head slip out into the parking lot.

she blinked too late.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

paige stared at the ceiling in her dorm room. her side was cold and empty. typically, her phone vibrated: “you up?” “can you talk?” “i love you.” but tonight—nothing. only the distant hum of campus. only her own breath.

she replayed the fight from hours ago: azzi framed against the locker room mirror, eyes heated. paige had cuffed back, “you’re punishing me, you know that?” azzi’s lips had gone thin. her jaw had clenched. then silence. azzi had turned away and left.

now, dark. no azzi. no reassurances.

she lay awake until 2 a.m. fantasized replay: “baby, i’m sorry.” azzi’s forgiveness. wrapping arms around, soft forehead kiss. paige whispered it into silence until sleep slipped in.

the next morning sunlight filtered in. a couple shouted down the hallway. phone alarm buzzed at 7:15. paige blinked. rolled over. half-tempted to scooch close and check if azzi slept.

bed was empty.

she sighed, heartbeat heavy, void between pillows. she dressed in quiet, pulled on sweats and a hoodie. grabbed her phone. still no message.

she walked to the training table. still no word from azzi. last time they ate together here. now paige ate alone, slowly. every bite tasted flat.

she texted: “you okay?” no blue bubble. lunch passed. phone stayed silent. her heart went still.

practice was an hour away. paige wandered the main hallway, bag over one shoulder. she passed the training room. inside—azzi. dark hoodie, airpods, phone in hand, shoulders rounded.

paige froze. her heart cracked open.

was that… azzi?

she stood, hands tight ball. her natural instinct: run over, pull that hood down, kiss her. she tried.

her pride whispered: walk away. but her heart thundered: go.

she took three long strides.

“azzi.” soft. breathless. she looked up. no reaction—barely blinked.

“az…” paige said quietly. “you okay?”

azzi stared. words curdled. then: “not now, paige.”

it hit, an electric shock. then click, lips shut. feet spun. azzi turned around the right corner.

paige’s hand hovered two seconds too long, then fell to her side.

azzi sat on the edge of her bed, hoodie sleeves stretched over her hands, staring at a phone screen that hadn’t lit up in over twelve hours.

a single, unread message from paige sat there. you okay?

she’d seen it. she couldn’t open it. because if she opened it… she’d have to answer.

she hadn’t slept. not really. just drifted in and out of shallow dozing, waking every time the wind made a sound outside the window, convinced it might be a knock on her door. her appetite was gone. half a granola bar sat abandoned on the desk next to a half-full water bottle she hadn’t touched since morning.

everything hurt in small, quiet ways. headache. throat dry. eyes gritty from lack of sleep.

and under it all: the ache in her chest.

she should’ve caved. paige always did. that’s how it worked. azzi got mad, paige chased. azzi got quiet, paige found the words. paige always, always fixed it.

but this time… she hadn’t.

and it was driving azzi crazy.

she rolled over, pressing her face into a pillow that still smelled like paige’s shampoo. god. she missed her. missed the sound of her voice, the stupid way she hummed to herself while brushing her teeth, the weight of paige’s arm slung across her waist when they slept. she missed being wrapped up in paige like she was a blanket and a safe place all at once.

azzi buried her face deeper into the pillow and let out a frustrated groan.

“why hasn’t she said anything?”

later that afternoon at practice the gym lights were too bright.

or maybe it was just her eyes.

azzi blinked against the sharp glare, hands on her knees as she tried to breathe evenly. her legs felt like jelly. her limbs lagged behind her mind. everything about her felt… sluggish.

she’d barely eaten.

her stomach churned with nerves and something like shame.

every drill was a blur. every cut, every pivot, felt like running through sand.

and paige?

she was there. of course she was.

on the opposite side of the court, laser-focused, sharp as ever. but her eyes flicked over. quick glances. barely-there moments. paige didn’t say a word.

azzi felt it like a slap every time.

“fudd! sprint!” cd snapped.

azzi flinched, blinked out of her haze, and launched into motion.

her shoes squeaked. her breath came too fast, too shallow. she pushed harder.

she couldn’t let anyone see. especially not paige.

but halfway down the court, her legs wobbled. her vision darkened around the edges. she shook her head, blinked fast, forced her body to keep moving. just one more drill. just one more run.

then she could crawl back to bed and hide from all of this.

paige noticed everything.

the way azzi’s shot was a fraction off. the way she didn’t call out switches. the way she walked, not ran, to reset.

paige’s chest was tight the entire practice. her hands flexed, wanting to do something, say something—but she couldn’t.

because what if she pushed too hard? what if azzi didn’t want her anymore?

she kept glancing over. couldn’t stop. couldn’t help it. azzi was her person. her gravity. even when they fought, her body was tuned to her. her heart pulled toward her like a tide.

the day before practice, azzi didn’t get out of bed until noon.

even then, it was only because her phone buzzed with a calendar reminder about watching film. she sat up slowly, arms wrapped tight around her middle, the weight of everything pressing on her chest like she was underwater. her stomach turned the second she stood.

she hadn’t eaten dinner the night before. she didn’t feel hungry—just… hollow.

she pulled on the first hoodie she saw—paige’s gray one with the frayed sleeve cuff—and yanked the hood up over her head. it still smelled like her. it made her heart lurch.

she picked up her phone. still no reply to the message she never answered. the guilt settled deep in her throat.

she thought about texting. just: “hey.” or: “can we talk?” but every time her thumb hovered, something screamed don’t.

if paige wasn’t texting again, maybe she really meant it this time. maybe she was finally tired of being the one to apologize. maybe she was over it.

maybe she was over her.

that one thought unraveled azzi completely.

they’d laid here together a week ago, after a long day of practice. paige had curled into her side, arm draped across her waist, face buried in her neck.

“you always smell like strawberries,” paige had mumbled.

“i literally use vanilla body wash.”

“well, your neck smells like strawberries. so i win.”

azzi had laughed—soft, warm, the kind of laugh that only came with paige close enough to breathe in. paige had kissed her under the jaw. then again. then again.

“i’m so in love with you,” she whispered.

azzi had closed her eyes and whispered it back.

now in the film room azzi barely took in a word. her eyes burned.

when coach paused the tape and asked her what she saw in a defensive rotation, she answered wrong.

paige was in the front row, taking notes, jaw tight.

azzi could feel her there. every movement was a live wire.

but they didn’t make eye contact.

azzi chewed on her bottom lip hard enough to leave a mark.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

at 2 am azzi sat up in bed again, hoodie pulled tight. she hadn’t slept. the room was too still, too cold without paige’s voice, without her sleepy murmurs and half-snores.

she looked at the empty half of the bed.

her fingers twitched.

then she turned and curled into paige’s pillow.

the crash was coming. azzi’s body was screaming for rest. her heart was begging for peace.

and paige?

paige had reached her limit too.

but not in the way people thought. paige wasn’t done loving azzi. she was just tired of pretending it didn’t hurt that she wasn’t allowed to be mad, too. that she had to always be the one to cave.

but the next day at practice… something shifted.

azzi’s shoes were too tight. or maybe her feet were swollen. her head felt distant, like the sound in the gym was underwater.

she kept pushing through drills. cut after cut. jumper after jumper.

her legs were slow. her vision blurred. her head pounded.

she hadn’t eaten in nearly two days. barely drank water. her body was quitting, and she knew it.

but her heart wasn’t ready to give in.

across the court, paige felt it. like an echo in her chest.

she watched azzi miss an easy layup. azzi, who never missed like that. her form was perfect—even when she was tired. this wasn’t normal.

paige’s fingers gripped her shorts tighter.

she wanted to run to her. pull her aside. just say, “baby, please look at me.”

but she couldn’t. not after three days of silence. not after azzi had turned away.

so paige said nothing. and hated herself for it.

coach blew the whistle. “transition drill! go!”

azzi took off on autopilot. half-court. full speed.her foot dragged slightly. then again.

paige noticed.

then, azzi tripped. her step turned into a stumble. her knee didn’t bend—it buckled. her body folded mid-sprint.

she dropped hard. hard enough that the sound of her hitting the court echoed.

paige’s body moved before her mind. she was sprinting, heart pounding, mouth dry.

azzi was curled slightly on her side, knees tucked. her hands trembled.

paige dropped to her knees next to her, not caring who saw. she cupped azzi’s cheek, voice shaking.

“baby. hey—hey, look at me. come on.”

azzi opened her eyes, barely. her lips parted.

“i’m fine…” she whispered. “i’m okay.”

“you’re not okay,” paige choked. “jesus, azzi. you scared the shit outta me.”

azzi tried to sit up. paige held her still.

“no, stay. just… stay for a sec.”

her hands were everywhere—checking her forehead, brushing hair from her face, stroking her wrist with her thumb. protective didn’t even begin to cover it.

teammates shouted for coach, but paige wasn’t moving.

“i’ve got her,” she said. “i’ve got you, honey. i promise.”

azzi leaned into her weakly

paige’s arms tightened around her like a lifeline.

she whispered, over and over:

“i’m here. i’m here. i’m so sorry.”

the gym cleared around them, but paige couldn’t see anyone else. her entire world narrowed to the girl breathing shallowly in her arms.

azzi’s skin was cold, damp. her body slack. her head rested against paige’s chest now, breaths slowing, eyelids heavy.

“az, baby, please stay with me,” paige whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “you scared me so bad.”

azzi mumbled something against her shirt.

“what?” paige leaned closer.

“i’m just tired,” azzi whispered.

her voice was paper-thin. hoarse. barely there.

“you haven’t been eating,” paige said, soft but firm. “have you?”

azzi didn’t answer.

“that’s what i thought,” paige murmured. “fuck.”

her voice cracked on the word. she pulled azzi closer, forehead pressed to hers. “you don’t get to do that to me. you don’t get to scare me like that.”

the coaches approached with water, ice packs. cd started to say something.

paige stood slowly, one arm locked around azzi’s waist, holding her up like she was made of glass.

“i’m taking her back,” paige said. her voice didn’t leave room for debate. “now.”

no one argued.

she barely noticed the stares as she helped azzi into the hallway. every few steps, azzi stumbled a little, and paige steadied her, one hand at the small of her back, the other gripping her hand tightly.

“you okay?” she asked, every twenty seconds.

azzi just nodded weakly.

paige muttered under her breath, almost angrily—at herself, not azzi. “should’ve checked in sooner. should’ve seen it.”

they stepped into the cool air outside. paige tugged her hoodie off and draped it over azzi’s shoulders without a word. she held her closer. pressed a kiss to her hair.

“you’re freezing,” she murmured. “jesus, baby…”

azzi leaned into her, not saying anything yet. just letting herself be held.

and paige? paige held her like she was terrified someone might take her.

when they got to her dorm, paige helped azzi sit down on the edge of the bed. she knelt in front of her, eyes wide with worry, hands gentle and constantly moving—fixing her hoodie, tucking loose curls behind her ear, rubbing soft circles into her knee.

“you’re okay now,” paige whispered. “i’ve got you.”

azzi nodded, eyes low. voice quiet. “sorry i scared you.”

“you didn’t just scare me,” paige said. “you ruined me.” she said it with a smile, but her voice broke at the end. her hand came up to azzi’s jaw, thumb brushing her cheek.

“i’m sorry, too,” she added. “for being stubborn. for not texting. for not checking in when i saw you struggling.”

azzi looked at her then. really looked. those big, tired eyes. a little glassy. a little sad.

“you weren’t supposed to wait,” azzi said. “you’re the one who always comes back.”

“i know,” paige whispered. “but i thought maybe you needed space. i thought maybe… i don’t know. maybe you didn’t want me to anymore.”

azzi scoffed—soft, bitter. “that’s dumb.”

paige smiled again, just barely. “yeah. i know.”

there was a beat of silence. just breath between them. then paige cupped azzi’s face fully, both hands now, holding her steady.

“i don’t care about the fight,” she said. “i care that you stopped eating. that you couldn’t sleep. that you fainted. az, if something happened to you…”

her voice cracked.

“i can’t lose you. do you hear me?”

azzi’s eyes welled. “you’re not going to.”

“you scared me,” paige said again. “like, heart-ripped-out-of-my-chest kind of scared. i didn’t even think. i just ran. and when i saw you on the floor like that…”

she broke. tears slipped down her cheeks. azzi reached up and brushed them away with her thumbs.

“don’t cry,” she said softly.

“i have to,” paige whispered. “you didn’t see your face. you looked like you were fading.”

azzi closed her eyes and whispered, teasing but soft: “told you. this is what happens when you ignore me.”

paige blinked. then she laughed—just once. sharp, wet, broken. “god, i love you.”

azzi smiled. still weak. still pale. but she smiled.

“i missed you,” she said. “even when i was mad.”

paige leaned in and pressed their foreheads together.

“i never stop missing you,” she whispered. “even when you’re two feet away and pretending i don’t exist. i’m still in love with you. obsessed with you. down bad, as they all say.”

azzi laughed softly, the sound barely more than a breath.

then she whispered, “lay with me?”

paige didn’t answer. she just gently helped azzi lie back, then slid in beside her, arms curling around her like a cocoon. azzi sighed into the warmth of it. her head on paige’s chest. paige’s hand stroking her back. their legs tangled.

“you’re not going anywhere,” paige said.

azzi hummed.

“not without you.”

azzi fell asleep first, wrapped in paige like a weighted blanket. paige stayed awake a little longer, just watching her, whispering promises under her breath.

“i’ll never make you feel like that again.”

“i’ll always choose you.”

“i’m yours. no matter what.”

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the sun was barely up, just a faint wash of peach light bleeding in through the dorm window. the clock read 6:40 am.

azzi stirred under the blanket, her head still resting on paige’s chest. paige didn’t move, not even a little.

she’d been awake for a while. just… watching. listening.

every rise and fall of azzi’s breath was a gift she hadn’t realized she needed until last night.

she almost lost her. not really—but it felt like that.

paige kissed azzi’s hair again, slow and soft.

“morning, beautiful,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

azzi shifted. a soft groan left her lips. “what time is it?”

“too early.”

azzi didn’t move. she just nuzzled her face deeper into paige’s hoodie, still hanging loose on her.

“you stayed.”

“of course i stayed,” paige said. “where else would i be?”

azzi shrugged against her. “i don’t know. avoiding me. like you were for three days.”

paige sighed. “fair. deserved that.”

azzi smirked—barely. “damn right.”

paige traced lazy circles on azzi’s arm.

“i was stupid,” she said softly. “i thought giving you space was the right move. i didn’t want to push you.”

“you didn’t push,” azzi murmured. “you disappeared.”

that one landed. paige’s hand paused. “i’m sorry.”

azzi lifted her head, just slightly, enough to look paige in the eye. her voice was rough from sleep, but steady. “you could’ve just said you were hurt. i would’ve listened.”

“i didn’t want to make it worse.”

“you not being there was worse.”

paige swallowed hard.

“i don’t want to fight with you,” she said. “not like that. not where it makes you stop taking care of yourself. you’re everything to me, az. you get that, right?”

azzi nodded slowly.

paige lifted a hand to her cheek, thumb brushing the skin there with almost reverent care.

“i watched you fall and i swear to god, i felt my heart stop. that’s never happening again.”

azzi leaned into her touch.

then whispered, “what if we fight again?”

“we probably will,” paige admitted. “but i’ll still choose you. every time. even when i’m mad. even when you’re being a pain in the ass.”

azzi bit her lip, trying not to grin too wide. “down bad?”

“tragically.”

azzi rolled onto her side, facing her fully now, hand resting on paige’s chest. her fingers curled into the fabric. “i missed you so much it made me feel sick.”

“i know, baby,” paige said, voice breaking a little. “i could see it.”

“then why didn’t you say something?”

“i thought maybe you needed time. and part of me…” she looked away, just for a second. “i guess i thought maybe you didn’t need me as much as i need you.”

azzi’s eyebrows pulled in, sharp. “don’t ever think that again.”

paige met her eyes.

“i don’t know how to do this without you,” she whispered.

azzi leaned forward, kissed her slow—no heat, no rush, just a soft press of lips to lips that said everything they hadn’t.

“i love you,” azzi said when she pulled back.

paige’s face crumpled slightly. “i love you more.”

“you don’t.”

“i definitely do.”

“i passed out and you still ignored me for three days before that,” azzi said, now fully grinning.

“hey,” paige said, mock offended. “i ignored you for like… two and a half. max.”

azzi snorted. “still almost died.”

“oh my god.” paige groaned, dropping her head to the pillow. “you’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?”

“nope,” azzi said, kissing her again. “this is what happens when you ignore me.”

paige’s hands slid around her waist.

“lesson learned,” she said. “never again.”

azzi yawned against her. “you gonna make me eat today?”

“absolutely,” paige said. “i’ll spoon-feed you if i have to. like, sit you on my lap and everything.”

azzi blinked, both eyebrows raised.

“…you’re enjoying this, huh?”

“a little.”

they both laughed—quiet and close, forehead to forehead. all the weight was still there, but it wasn’t pressing down anymore. it was shared now. carried between them.

later azzi sat cross-legged on paige’s bed with a bowl of oatmeal. paige had made it with almond butter, bananas, and a drizzle of honey—because it was the only thing azzi had even slightly agreed to.

paige hovered like a mom with a sick toddler, kneeling next to the bed.

“you good? you want a smoothie too?”

azzi smirked. “sit down. you’re making me nervous.”

paige didn’t move.

“you want me to feed you? ‘cause i will.”

azzi gave her a look. “you’re lucky i love you.”

paige reached over and kissed her shoulder. “i really, really am.”

azzi was wearing nothing but paige’s oversized hoodie and a pair of her own black shorts. her hair was up in a messy bun, strands loose around her face. her legs were bare, pale and smooth, tucked under her. her skin still had that soft post-sleep warmth to it.

and paige?

paige was down astronomically bad.

she was kneeling in front of the bed, chin propped on the edge like a puppy, eyes locked on azzi like she was studying her, memorizing every inch.

“you’re literally staring,” azzi said around a mouthful of oatmeal.

“i know,” paige said. no shame. just awe. “you’re so pretty it’s actually ruining my life.”

azzi gave her a side-eye, chewing slow. “baby. it’s oatmeal.”

“i don’t care,” paige whispered. “you could be eating something disgusting and i’d still be like, ‘wow, my girlfriend is so hot.’”

azzi laughed softly, setting the bowl down beside her. paige’s eyes tracked the movement like she was hypnotized.

then, slowly, deliberately, paige climbed up onto the bed. not crawling—more like gliding. she moved up on her knees, hands on either side of azzi’s hips.

“paige…”

“mhmm?”

azzi narrowed her eyes playfully. “you said i needed to eat.”

“you did. and now you did.” paige leaned in, nose brushing against azzi’s cheek. “which means now i get to touch you.”

azzi tilted her head, lips twitching. “you were already touching me all night.”

“yeah, but you were kinda dying, so it doesn’t count.”

azzi rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. paige leaned in and kissed her cheek. then her jaw. then her collarbone—slow, tender, reverent.

“missed you so much,” paige murmured between kisses. “you don’t even know.”

her hands slid up under the hoodie, not to start anything, just to feel. her palms pressed flat against azzi’s lower back, thumbs brushing gently against her ribs.

“you’re so soft,” paige said, voice thick with affection. “how are you real?”

azzi wrapped her arms around paige’s neck, holding her close. “i should be mad at you still, babe.”

“you can be,” paige said, kissing just under her ear. “just don’t make me stop touching you.”

“you’re so clingy,” azzi whispered.

“and you love it,” paige whispered back.

she kissed her again—under the jaw, along her shoulder, small, dotting kisses that made azzi melt visibly. every touch was a little apology, a little i missed you, a little i’m never letting you go again.

paige slid down slightly, pressing kisses along azzi’s thigh now, her arms looped loosely around her waist. her voice dropped to a soft murmur.

“i’m gonna spend every second of this week making sure you never forget how much i love you. you get that, sweetheart?”

azzi looked down at her, cheeks warm. “you’re being intense.”

“i almost lost you. i’m allowed to be intense.”

“you didn’t almost lose me,” azzi said gently.

“you stopped eating, baby. you fainted. you think i didn’t notice your eyes getting darker every day?” paige kissed the inside of her knee. “that’s losing you. even a little bit of you slipping away? that’s too much.”

azzi touched paige’s hair, running her fingers through it slowly. “okay,” she whispered. “i get it.”

paige looked up at her. “yeah?”

azzi nodded. “i love you, too. even when you’re clingy and dramatic.”

“sue me.” paige said dramatically, crawling back up to eye level. she kissed azzi’s forehead. then the tip of her nose. then both cheeks. then her lips, once, then twice.

“you’re gonna be okay,” paige whispered. “i’m gonna make sure of it.”

azzi smiled sleepily, hands sliding around paige’s waist, pulling her closer. “you’re the sweetest when you’re scared.”

paige didn’t deny it. she curled into azzi, pulling the blanket over both of them even though the sun was fully up.

“i’m yours and you’re mine,” she whispered.

“yours,” azzi echoed, already half-asleep again.

azzi lay back against the pillows, arms behind her head, hoodie rising slightly to show the smooth line of her stomach. paige was tucked beside her, hand resting innocently—well, not so innocently—on her thigh.

“you keep staring,” azzi said, voice lazy and smug.

“how could i not?” paige said. “you’re out here looking like a dream and you know what you’re doing.”

azzi smirked. “i’m just lying here. you’re the one acting like i put a spell on you.”

“you did put a spell on me.”

“oh?” azzi lifted a brow and tilted her head. “and what kind of spell is that?”

paige’s voice dropped, just slightly, her eyes locked on her lips. “the kind where i can’t stop thinking about you. touching you. dreaming about you even when you’re lying right next to me.”

azzi leaned in, eyes hooded. “then maybe you should do something about it.”

there was a beat of silence. heavy, charged.

then paige let out a soft groan and rolled over her, caging azzi in with her arms.

“i love you,” she whispered, voice thick. “but you are so evil sometimes.”

azzi grinned. “you like it.”

paige kissed her. harder than before. not rushed, but deeper, more urgent—like every second of missed touches the past few days was pouring out through her mouth.

azzi pulled her in closer, legs wrapping around paige’s hips.

their bodies moved like they’d been waiting, aching, syncing right back into rhythm. there was no fumbling. just heat and softness, breath and skin.

paige’s hands roamed carefully, her fingertips ghosting under the hem of azzi’s hoodie, grazing up her sides, feeling every inhale, every flutter. she kissed her like she needed it to live—along her jaw, her neck, her shoulder, her chest. soft and slow, then sharp and hungry, then slow again.

“paige…” azzi murmured, barely a whisper, eyes fluttering shut.

“mmhmm?”

“i still feel kinda weak,” she breathed, teasing.

“then let me take care of you.”

azzi smirked. “so dramatic.”

paige kissed the smirk off her.

“you have no idea,” she said.

in that moment, wrapped up in each other under soft light and warm sheets, the fight felt like something distant. not forgotten, but forgiven. their hearts had bruises, sure. but they were still beating in sync.

and for paige, holding the only girl who ever made her feel whole, there was no place else she’d ever want to be.

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬

18+ MINORS DNI

or: how natasha proposed

part of the short n’ sweet universe

a/n: finally got this done! i’ve been working on this way too long lmao 😭 but here it is

also i hate writing/reading proposal speeches. can’t stand them because i never seem to get them right. tried my best anyway 🫡

summary: natasha wanting to propose + being an idiot about it

warnings: smut (brief, not too detailed)

word count: 11.8k

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Not too long ago, you used to study under the best conditions possible. You'd shut every window, every door. You'd light aroma candles and clean your desk to avoid distractions. Your phone? On silent and hidden. With earplugs in to block even the slightest noise, you'd sit down and get started. If possible, you'd go to the library. At night, even, when it's quiet and empty so nothing can disturb you.

That's changed. You'd love to laugh at your past self for ever thinking that those conditions were necessary to study, but you can't. Unfortunately, your past self was right.

Your apartment isn't small, but it's not big, either. It's the perfect size for a family of three — snug, comfy, but with enough space to store the baby bathtub and stroller. You love that you can see the entire living room and kitchen from your desk, but you don't love that you can hear every single noise.

Niko's crying. He's colicky and teething and cranky. Natasha's on a rubber ball, bouncing him, her voice slowly turning more and more panicked. You've tried everything; nursing, chilled teething rings, a warm bath. But the poor little guy's uncomfortable, and he's letting everyone know.

This has been going on for days now. To make matters worse, he doesn't even sleep through the night. Instead, he wakes up twice (if you're lucky) and screeches until you give him attention. You've been hanging on by a thread. All-nighters, coffee, trail mix. A baby clinging to you, drooling and unhappy, and a midterm exam in molecular biology.

You stare at the laptop in front of you. Way too many slides for a midterm, way too detailed and complicated as well. You pick up your pen to take another note, but a particularly loud wail from Niko startles you.

"Sorry", Natasha says when you turn around. She looks sheepish, even if this isn't her fault. You sigh. "Want me to leave the apartment?"

A sweet offer, but you're not sure you want your girlfriend and your infant son to go outside when it's dark. It's a somewhat safe area, but there's no need to take high risk, low reward chances.

"No", you mumble, turning towards your laptop again. Niko lets out another cry. "Is he alright?"

"He's fine", she says, rubbing his back. He squirms against her and starts gnawing on her shoulder. "Just dramatic."

Apparently, the usage of the word 'dramatic' offends Niko immensely. He pulls back, then launches himself at her shoulder and bites like a baby shark. The noise she makes is anything but dignified, and you snort into your coffee cup.

Natasha gets up, still holding Niko. He starts fussing and thrashing in her arms. She leaves the room, quietly, and you hear a door fall shut. The door to his nursery. She's attempting the impossible, which is to get him to calm down.

You try focusing on your studies again. Protein metabolism — ribozymes, membranes, amino acids. Part of you almost regrets letting Natasha leave with Niko. You'd rather comfort a whining baby than read another word that ends in -ases.

You don't want to fail, though, so you keep researching and reading and summarizing. Things seem to be going well, at that point. It's 9pm, the crying has quieted down, and your brain is soaking up knowledge like a sponge. Silence really does seem to work wonders for your ability to concentrate and retain information.

About an hour later, the door opens quietly. Natasha steps out of the nursery, baby monitor in hand, and rubs her face. She looks beat — she didn't even manage to change out of her jersey after coming home, as you immediately shoved a fussing Niko into her arms. Her hair is in a low bun, which is now clinging on for dear life, and her eyes are half-lidded.

Then, she spots you. You're sprawled out on the couch now, an open textbook next to you and some flashcards in your hands. The exhaustion is gone instantly.

You don't miss the way she perks up and silently, you groan. For some reason, she's able to be more distracting than the baby. Whether it's intentional or not is a question you haven't been able to answer yet, but there have been dozens of instances of her being anything but helpful.

It usually starts as something innocent. Sitting down next to you, touching your thigh. Pulling you into her lap after a moment. A mumbled 'missed you' against your neck. At some point, fingers begin to wander. They slip into waistbands and nudge bras aside.

You know why. Between basketball practice, exams, and the chaos that comes with being new parents, you rarely manage to find time for just the two of you. When it does happen, she tries to make the most of it. You do, too, but you're less keen on admitting that.

You end up naked each time. You're not sure if that's something to be proud of, but Natasha may as well be one of those birds that puff up with pride.

When she plops down next to you on the couch, you immediately know that she's about to try again. Biology exam be damned — the last time you had a few minutes without Niko was a week ago, back at Clint's place. Everyone else had been playing a video game. They were yelling, laughing, so they were distracted enough to not notice the little sighs coming from behind them.

Her arm wraps around your shoulders. Her lips press against your cheek, then your jaw. Her free hand moves under your shirt to cup your stomach. You shift, stubbornly staring at a flashcard.

"How's biology going?", she mumbles, rubbing your arm.

"Fine", you reply, still not looking at her. She leans in and starts kissing your neck. Soft lips move over delicate skin, her tongue pokes out to lick a hot stripe over your pulse point. "Natasha."

"Yes, baby?"

You exhale, the frustration evident. Your midterm exam is in two days. Fucking on the couch like dogs in heat certainly isn't a study method that'll help you pass.

"Unless you're about to quiz me on molecular biology, you better keep your hands to yourself."

Natasha isn't too impressed. She hums, pretending to be deep in thought about this, then cups your breast and brushes her thumb over your nipple. Drops of milk spill, but it doesn't faze her. It's been more than half a year, she's aware that you're breastfeeding.

"We haven't had a minute to ourselves in a week", she murmurs. She massages your boob, and a wet patch forms on your shirt. "The damn kid's always interrupting."

"He's a baby", you say, grabbing her arm. "And I'm about to fail my midterm."

Natasha frowns and looks at you. Head tilted, eyebrows messy, eyes clear and intense. Maybe studying really isn't worth the effort, or at least that's what your hormones are trying to convince you of. She's still in her jersey, too, and she has that post game-smell. Sweaty and full of pheromones.

"You think you'll fail?"

"I've barely studied", you say, deadpan. "This is molecular biology. Understanding it isn't enough, I need to know it by heart."

"Right", she mumbles. She presses a kiss to your shoulder. "So you'll fail. Big deal?"

You huff and almost shove her off you, but she just grins. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You'll fail. So what?" She kisses your cheek, then pecks your lips. "You know what?"

You glare at her. She's treating this like a joke, and you're not having it. Natasha waits for you to say something, but you're getting more pissed off by the second, so she laughs quietly and tugs you into her lap.

"If you fail, I'm proposing. Who needs a degree? No wife of mine should have to work a single day in her life, anyway."

Your heart stutters in your chest, but it's hard to take her seriously. To you, it seems like this is one of her usual dumb jokes. But you never would've thought she'd joke about this. She may call you her wife in front of friends and teammates (despite you telling her to cut it out), but you didn't think marriage would be a laughing matter to her.

"Really romantic", you manage to say. "Truly outdoing yourself, Romanoff."

"Mark my words", she says. She tugs at the hem of your shirt, smirking. "If you fail, I'm proposing to you. Now go study unless you want to see me on one knee."

"I'd pay to see that", you mumble. You reach for your textbook and open it.

For exactly ten minutes, you're able to study. You recall information, quiz yourself, check your notes.

You're still in Natasha's lap, though. She still feels the rounded curve of your ass pressing against her, still feels your warmth and smells your scent. Perfume and something sweet and milky. She doesn't want to distract you — a lie — but she can't exactly control it.

You feel her get hard, pressing against you through the fabric of her shorts. You swore you'd study this time, that you'd keep your clothes on. But her hands grip your waist, her lips press against your nape, and you're actually alone for once. Before you know what you're doing, you're on your back and being pounded into the couch.

. . .

Monday morning, you make your way to campus looking like you're about to go to war.

Niko is strapped to Natasha's chest, feet kicking and smiles less gummy. His tooth came in exactly five hours before the exam, which Natasha deemed hilarious. He kept up the sobbing and crying and fevering long enough to keep you from studying, but managed to get the annoying little molar out as soon as it got too late for you to catch up.

He's the only one who's in a good mood, though. Teething aside, he's still suffering from being a little colicky, so he made sure you stay awake by screaming until his face turned red. It took a while, but he's better now.

"Lucky duck", Natasha mutters. She's surviving off energy drinks at this point. "You can nap all day long. I have a seminar later. Fucking Harrison Harris. I swear, whoever named that guy set him up for bullying."

You hum absently. You're staring at a flashcard, with dark circles under your eyes and a coffee cup in your hand. Your hair isn't even washed — you spent the few hours of silence Niko granted you trying to inhale every bit of knowledge you can. A bad idea, as you now feel like you're about to throw up biology facts.

Natasha glances at her phone. "Ten minutes", she informs you. "Want me to go with you? Help you find your seat?"

"I'm good", you mumble, still staring at a flashcard. Niko squeals, his chubby little hand suddenly grabbing and fisting it. "Oh, honey. I promise, that's less fun than it looks."

"He likes the drawing", Natasha says, leaning in. "Is that a peptide bond?"

"Yeah." You sigh and let go of the flashcard. Niko takes that as permission to put it in his mouth and chew on it. You get up and grab your tote bag. "Where are you two going?"

"Oh", she says, bouncing him and trying to seem casual, "we're meeting Wanda and Daisy for some coffee. They wanted to see Niko."

"Alright." You lean in and kiss the top of your son's head. "Bye, baby."

"I assume you're talking to me?", Natasha jokes.

"Both of you."

Smiling, she gets up to pull you closer. Her lips press against yours, her hands hold your waist. Unimpressed, Niko slaps the damp flashcard against your face, but Natasha quickly blocks him.

You pull away and cup her face. "He's rude."

"Got it from me", she agrees. She pecks your lips. "Go, go. Or you'll be late."

You peek into the study hall where the exam will take place. Sure enough, almost all seats are taken. The hallway has gotten empty has well. You nod and turn around, opting for a quick wave before stepping into the room.

Natasha watches for another second, then Niko tips his head back to look at her. He smiles, his single tooth making him look a little like baby Patrick Star, and she leans in to kiss his forehead.

"Come on, bud", she says, walking down the hallway. "Let's see what Wanda and Daisy know about proposals."

The four (three and a half?) of them end up in the little café right next to campus. Daisy secures a corner spot, Wanda grabs the highchair, and Natasha orders the drinks. Black coffee, iced latte, and a hot chocolate for the girl who claims caffeine makes her anxiety worse.

They're not aware of why they got invited here. Usually, they don't hang out with only Natasha; you're always there, as well. This time, she was the one to text them. She also asked them to not tell you, which — surprise — even Daisy succeeded at.

Niko spent the first five minutes in the highchair which Natasha cleaned with Lysol and baby wipes. It took one unhappy grunt for Wanda to coo and pick him up, though, so he's now in her lap and keeping her necklace in a firm grasp.

"So", Daisy says, stealing some of the whipped cream on Wanda's hot chocolate, "why are we here?"

Natasha side-eyes Wanda, who's offering Niko a cookie to suck on. "Oh, I...I'm sorry, can you take that away from him? Just 'cause he got his first tooth doesn't mean he needs a first cavity as well."

"He likes it", Wanda says, removing the cookie from his hand. He lets out a protesting screech, and she kisses his reddish baby curls.

"It's sugar", Daisy says. "Of course he likes it. Romanoff, answer my question. Did you screw up again?"

"What?" She frowns. "No. No, I didn't. What kind of question is that?"

Both of them give her a pointed look à la 'remember Spring Break?', and she shuts up. She's screwed up before. To be fair, it's been a while since Spring Break happened — almost three years, if she's not mistaken — but she really hurt you. She didn't mean to, but she did, anyway.

"Fine", she relents. "I'm an idiot. Not the point, though."

A waitress walks past them and smiles, straight at Natasha. She's pretty, with her blue eyes and honeyed hair, and both Daisy and Wanda realize what she's doing. Subtly flirting with Natasha. Testing the waters. The basketball team's captain is somewhat of a little celebrity around here, after all.

Everyone is aware that she's taken. You're basically famous around here, especially since you're always walking around with a baby in your arms. Some women don't care about that, apparently.

They have different strategies, but the same goal. Wanda clears her throat and Daisy kicks Natasha's shin. She immediately sits up straight.

"Are you fucking kidding-"

"Eyes on us, idiot", Daisy cuts her off. "Why are we here?"

"Right", she mumbles. "I'll just say it, so, uh...how do I propose?"

First, there's silence. Then, Daisy bursts out laughing, so much so that poor Niko actually flinches. Wanda cradles him to her chest, but she doesn't manage to tell Daisy to stop — she's hung up on the fact that Natasha Romanoff is talking about proposing.

She doesn't want to say it out loud. Even if it's the truth, it'd be rude. But everyone knows that Natasha once claimed she'd never commit. Not fully. Campus is filled with girls who got their hearts broken by her. She's blocked double the amount of numbers she has saved as contacts.

Natasha shoots Daisy an irritated look. "Alright", she mutters, sinking into her seat and picking at the cookie on her saucer, "no need to laugh."

"I'm sorry", she wheezes. "You. You? You want to propose?"

"You're not being nice", Wanda tells her. She gives Natasha an apologetic look. "But I get her point. You're proposing?"

"I told Y/N I would if she fails her midterm", she explains, still disgruntled. "I'm serious about this. I'll do it. No matter if she fails, really."

"That's sweet", Daisy mumbles. "Basing a lifelong commitment on an academic failure."

Niko babbles and reaches out to Natasha. She scoops him out of Wanda's lap and immediately rummages through her diaper bag to find the bottle of milk she packed. In the meantime, he manages to grab the cookie she didn't eat and starts gnawing on it like he's been starving for the past week.

"Please", Natasha says. She steals the cookie back and replaces it with the baby bottle. Having forgotten about the sweet treat, Niko latches on. "That's not what it is at all. Look, guys. I'm serious about this. And about her. So either help me or I'm leaving."

"You're not leaving", Wanda says. She's digging through her backpack already, laying out notebooks and pencils on the table. "What did you have in mind?"

Natasha shrugs. She's been thinking about this for days. Actually, she's been racking her brains. Every second of her days are spent trying to find a good way to go about this. Not once in her life did she consider downloading Pinterest, but now, the red circular icon stands out on her home screen.

"Not sure", she says vaguely. "Maybe go on a date, hide the ring in a-"

"No", both of them interject.

"But you didn't-"

"No."

"Trust us", Wanda adds. "What else?"

Natasha shrugs and glances at Niko. He's still suckling, his feet kicking happily under the table. "Maybe a onesie that says 'marry me'?"

"God", Daisy groans. "That's, like, a surefire way to get dumped."

"Oh come on!"

"It's true", Wanda says. She flinches when Daisy suddenly starts hitting her arm like there's a mosquito on it. "What??"

"Jumbotron, jumbotron!"

This time, it's Natasha's turn to intervene. If there's one thing you'd like less than the onesie-idea, it's to be proposed to at one of her basketball games. A proposal in a gym full of sweaty athletes, fellow students and professors sounds like a nightmare.

"Absolutely not", she says firmly. Niko hiccups and spits up, simultaneously unlatching from the bottle. She quickly wipes his mouth. "No jumbotron, no basketball games."

"Boring", Daisy mumbles.

"I have to agree with Natasha", Wanda says. She taps the table and nods. "Did you write anything down? Maybe locations?"

Natasha shakes her head and fishes her phone out of her shorts. She swipes past the lock screen, which is still a half-naked picture of you, and opens one of the apps. She taps on the board she created and hands the phone to Wanda and her finicky eyes.

Daisy leans over her shoulder to peek at it. They're both quiet for a while, scrolling and silently judging. By the time they look up, Natasha's attention has long wavered. She's focused on Niko, who's babbling and playing with her hand.

"You'll need help", Daisy says. Natasha looks up. "I mean, a picnic?"

She frowns. In her mind, it was cute. Private and quiet, no prying eyes. Maybe on a beach, or in some park. Though, there aren't many pretty beaches nearby. And traveling isn't in the cards for you, especially while you're in college and have a baby.

"What's wrong with a picnic?"

"Bugs", Daisy quickly says. "Sand. Birds. Where do you put the baby? I know you guys don't like to leave him with anybody else."

Natasha shrugs. Niko, still in her arms, is now dozing off. The milk managed to make him sleepy.

"I thought I propose with him there."

"No", Daisy says. She frowns and taps a pen against her lips. "Hey, where'd you guys have your first kiss?"

Natasha pauses, one hand gently holding Niko's pacifier. She remembers it, of course, but sometimes, she wishes she didn't. The circumstances weren't romantic. It wasn't like in the movies. It was in a sweaty basement, filled with the stench of alcohol and weed. Everyone was on the floor, spinning a bottle. You kissed her because it landed on her, not because the moment seemed right.

She'd go back and do it differently, if she could. But it's too late for that.

"How's a party at Pietro's sound?"

"My hopes were too high", Daisy says, subtly rolling her eyes. "Your first time, you know..."

Natasha shakes her head. "Nope. Also at the party."

"Saying 'I love you'?"

Her cheeks flush, and her face goes hot. Another moment she wishes she could change. The night of the stabbed basketball, and the rainy hoodie, and the desperate sex in your dorm room. The fighting, the crying. It was all the result of what happened in Miami.

"No", she just says. No need for details, as she feels like they still haven't forgiven her for what she did at Spring Break. "It was in her dorm. We moved out of there, so..."

"Right, right." Daisy sighs and sinks into the red pleather of the booth's seat. "God, you two are complicated."

"You try proposing", Natasha mutters. She gently shifts Niko until she's able to put him back into the carrier. He stirs, but somehow doesn't wake up. "It's harder than it seems."

"Speaking of proposing..."

"No", Daisy says, shooting a glare at Wanda. Natasha frowns at them, and Daisy flips her off. "Don't."

"Are you-"

"Proposal", Wanda quickly says. "Your proposal. What does Y/N like?"

She gives them another skeptical look. They've been acting odd around each other for months now, but neither of them has had the guts to address it yet. She's not sure what exactly is going on, but truthfully, she's too tired to care.

She doesn't press it. Instead, she tries remembering everything you ever expressed fondness for.

"She likes me", she then says, grinning and rubbing Niko's back. All she gets are blank stares, though. "And him, of course."

"You could try taking this seriously", Daisy says, raising her eyebrows. "Seriously, what does she like?"

Natasha sighs and leans back in her seat. Her eyes drift down to Niko, who's sleeping and drooling all over her hoodie. She brushes her fingers over his red curls and tries to think, which is proven difficult due to her running on two and a half hours of sleep.

"Okay", she says slowly. "She likes black coffee. She likes lipstick, I think she has over a dozen of them. Uhm, I have a playlist full of her favorite songs, maybe we can use that. She doesn't like the dark, but she loves it when there are tiny lights everywhere. You know, fairy lights."

Wanda nods and writes everything down. "Fairy lights, there we go. What else?"

"She likes to dance", Natasha admits.

She's been dragged into a slow dance multiple times by you, and she always grumbles and protests. Getting her to actually try is harder than getting Niko to sleep during his sleep regression phase, but she never says no. Even if she's being an idiot.

"Dancing?" Daisy shoots Wanda a doubtful look when she writes that down as well. "How? When?"

"I don't know, hush. Keep going."

"Food", Natasha adds. Niko grunts in his sleep, one foot twitching, and she takes it into her hand. "Like, chocolate-covered anything. And she likes when I dress up a little, so..."

"Suit", Daisy whispers. She earns a glare. "What? You said it first."

"Suit it is", Wanda hums.

"I don't want a suit", Natasha interjects. Shes worn a suit twice so far — to your cousin's wedding, and at your grandfather's 90th birthday. She felt like an idiot playing dress up both times. "It's better if I wear something that's...natural, you know."

Wanda gives her a deadpan look, then adds 'suit' to her list, anyway. If you'll appreciate it, then she's doing it. No doubt.

They spend a total of two hours in the café. By the time they're done, Niko is awake and screaming for another meal. The bottle of pumped milk Natasha brought is empty, so she gets up and silently calculates when your exam should be done.

"I'll send you a text", Wanda says, packing up her stuff. "With the list and everything. Thursday, at my place? We still need to go over the details."

"And the ring", Daisy adds. She touches Wanda's wrist before wrapping her fingers around it, then she leads her outside. Sunlight blinds both Natasha and Niko as she follows them out the door.

"Right", Natasha mumbles, stressing. Niko lets out an unhappy scream. "Okay, okay, I'm getting you food. By the way, can you guys keep your mouths shut around Y/N? I know I told her, but..."

"Yeah", Wanda says, stopping. She reaches into her backpack and fishes out some applesauce for Niko. "No worries."

Natasha hesitates, then grabs the applesauce pouch. You're not the biggest fan of giving Niko sugary food, even if it's just applesauce, but she'd rather he stops crying. She unscrews it and helps him eat some.

"Aunt Wanda to the rescue", she says, smiling kindly.

"Preach", Natasha mumbles. She wipes his chin with her thumb and looks up. "Anyways. Thursday, 10am. Y/N is at a lecture. She'll probably try to skip but I'll make her go."

"All you have to do now is not spoil the surprise", Daisy reminds her. "Don't be an idiot."

Not spoil the surprise — easy enough, Natasha thinks, absently trying to keep Niko from eating her thumb instead. He squeals and grasps at her hand like it's the most precious thing his seven month old little brain has seen.

Little does she know that a), she will be an idiot, and b), not spoiling a surprise is hard when you're this much of a goner for someone.

. . .

Despite your protests and complaints, Natasha manages to make you go to your lecture. It takes a lot of convincing, energy and sweat, but she succeeds. You're not happy about it — you'd rather stay home with Niko, who's somehow teething again (apparently, none of you are catching a break anytime soon), but she finds enough arguments to convince you to go.

You give her a glare. She's in the doorway, dressed in a hoodie and the baby perched on her hip, helping him chew on a frozen piece of cucumber. Unlike you, she doesn't have to get ready for anything. She's spending the day with Niko, at the park, while you have to sit through an entire lecture. That's what she told you, at least.

"What?", she asks, sheepish.

"It's not fair", you say, turning back around and grabbing your makeup bag with a little more force than necessary. "You get to stay here and I have to listen to Gibson talk about statistics for almost two hours."

"It's important", she says, shifting Niko a bit. He tends to suddenly throw himself backwards — an annoying little habit he's developed over the past couple weeks. "You know, it's the last one before the midterm."

"I don't care", you say. You open a lipstick and apply some. "He sends us a video of the lecture, anyway."

Natasha, being who she is, automatically steps closer. You grab her hand and blot your lips with the side of her thumb. It's a routine by now, one neither of you has to acknowledge anymore.

"It's better if you're there in person", she says. Niko tries grabbing your hair, but she stops him. "So you can ask questions."

You turn around and stare at her. "You know I never ask questions."

Of course, you're right. You don't ask questions, and she knows it. She's accompanied you to lectures a bunch of times, mostly when you were pregnant or right after you gave birth to Niko. But she forgot about that little detail.

"Oh", she says dumbly. "Well, I..."

"Told you", you say, turning around again. You adjust your necklace and get up. Natasha watches you leave the bathroom before quickly following you. "There's literally no point in going, but whatever."

"One lecture", she says. "Then you're done for the semester."

You give a dismissive wave of your hand and start looking through your shoe cabinet. High heels, which you started wearing almost immediately after giving birth. A pair of old sneakers Natasha stuffed into the back. Ballet flats and combat boots, and finally, your favorite pumps.

Natasha lingers by the door, Niko still in her arms. She's watching you, carefully, trying to find out what to say to make the look on your face go away. She's pretty sure you're being dramatic, but the dejected expression you're wearing stings.

"It's for your own good", she adds unhelpfully. Niko screeches and grabs her cheek. "You'll focus better."

"I don't need focus", you say. You slip on your pumps and straighten up, then scoop the baby out of her hands. "I don't want to abandon him again."

"You're not abandoning him, he's with his favorite mom."

What she said does make the look of dejection on your face go away — but it's replaced with one of offense and, for some reason, deep disappointment. You glance at Niko, who's perfectly content in your arms, and it's enough to make your bottom lip stick out in a little pout.

Natasha panics. Instead of reassuring you, she only made the guilt worse.

"No, hey, you know what I-"

You glance at her and grin. She lets out a huff when she realizes you were messing with her.

"Calm down, love", you say, putting Niko on your hip. "We both know he prefers me. Walking milk bar and whatever. Don't forget his bottle if you go out, yes?"

On any other day, she'd act offended by this. But there's a smile on your face, on that says 'gotcha', and she's too relieved that her plan will work out to say anything. Instead, she rolls her eyes and reaches for her diaper bag.

Ten minutes after you leave for your lecture, she sneaks out of the apartment as well. You see her car round the corner right after you step out of a café.

It's enough to make you pause for a moment. You shouldn't be worried. Niko's with her, so she's got her hands full. They're probably going out for groceries or something. But all you can think about is her insisting you leave, which resulted in her being alone.

And now, she's leaving without telling you. She didn't even mention it before you left, which makes it feel like a secret. Your stomach twists at the thought, and you feel the guilt hit almost immediately after.

Natasha's not that person anymore. She hasn't been in a long time. These are your insecurities speaking, possibly even stemming from the dozens of marks pregnancy left all over your body.

Confused and still not fully calm, you stand in front of the café for another long moment. Iced latte in hand, sunglasses perched on top of your head. Lipstick, blotted with her pinky. Someone nearly bumps into you, which finally lets you snap out.

"Hey", the guy starts, a studied little smirk on his face. But you direct a glare at him. You're not in the mood to be hit on. "Hey, no worries. I'll just-"

"I'm not interested", you say, voice biting and about to incinerate him with a single look. "Fuck off."

He raises his eyebrows and steps aside, hands lifted. "Yeah, I got that. Jesus Christ."

"Shave that mustache", you add. At this point, you're just being petty. "You look ridiculous."

No reply. He scoffs, hands in his pockets, and hurries down the street. You stand there for another second, shifting in your pumps, then turn around and walk toward campus. Your thoughts, however, remain occupied by Natasha.

. . .

Before she manages to go through with the proposal, she nearly screws up three times. The first time it happens, she's in a jewelry store.

Rings in endless variations, shimmering in polished glass displays. Necklaces, gracing the pulse-less necks of jewelry mannequin stands. A stroller with a drooling baby, and a woman who has no clue what she's looking for. The ring has to be perfect.

Natasha nearly drops her phone when it starts ringing. For a second, she fumbles with it like it's a hot potato — much to Niko's amusement, who starts giggling like this is the most entertaining thing he's ever seen —, then she manages to swipe her thumb across the screen and answer the call.

Her voice, when she speaks, is hurried. "Hello?"

"Hey", you immediately say. You're in your lecture hall, leaning back in your seat. "Prof is giving us a five minute break, thought I'd check in with you."

It's obvious that she didn't expect you to call, at least not yet. She hums noncommittally, silently racking her brain for something to say. Niko kicks his legs in his stroller and screeches, and next to her, a young woman talks.

You freeze at the sound. A woman's voice, close to Natasha, sounding young and soft. Something crawls up your spine, and you're not even sure why.

You can trust her, after all. She's loving and committed. Hell, she doesn't even breathe wrong near other women. However, she did tell you she'd spend the day at home with the baby. Part of you would've expected her to tell you about any possible change of plans.

The saleswoman steps closer to Natasha and hands her another box. There's a ring inside it. One you obviously can't see. If you could, it'd maybe help you tone down your anxiety.

All you see, though, is the narrow table your laptop is on. The pen next to it, the baby sock you carry like a lucky charm. And all you hear is the female voice, mumbling something again. If she's this loud even while speaking softly, she must be standing close to Natasha.

"Who was that?", you ask warily. You hear stuttering, and then that same voice again, and you swallow. "Natasha."

"Just helping me with something", she says after floundering. You nearly let go of your phone. "I'll pick you up later, right? After your lecture. I'll bring you some takeout too, just tell me what you want."

Around you, people start returning to their seats. A guy jumps over the rows to get to his chair, a girl gingerly follows him and giggles. Someone edges past you, apologizing when they almost spill your drink. You, however, barely notice. Not even the professor is importantly, even though he's switching to a new slide already.

All you can focus on is Natasha. Natasha, who said she didn't have any plans. Natasha, who's now definitely losing her shit on the phone while pretending not to. Worst of all? — Wherever she may be, she brought Niko with her.

"I don't want takeout", you snap, absently starting to pack up your stuff. You slam your laptop shut with a little more force than necessary. "When will you be home?"

"Uh..." Natasha gives the saleswoman, who's still holding two new rings, a quick glance. "Half an hour?"

'Romanoff, I'm killing you' — those are the first words that pop into your head. But even with your hand balling into a fist on the table, you manage to exhale and calm down enough not to threaten her over the phone.

"I'll be at Wanda's", you say slowly. You're pushing through the overcrowded rows to get to the exit. "Half an hour, right? Pick me up."

"Sure", she says, nodding dumbly. "No takeout?"

"No. Just be on time, alright? I have to nurse."

Natasha gives the saleswoman a slightly more irritated look when she shows her another ring. But this time, instead of shaking her head no, she pauses. You're still panicking silently, still trying to get the thought of her with another woman out of your head. Natasha, however, has found the piece of jewelry she'll be proposing with.

After this, you get a week long break. Natasha makes plans whenever she gets the chance to — she opens her notes the second you're asleep (which she can usually notice happen as your voice will drift off mid sentence); she calls Wanda to ask about flowers and fairy lights and all kinds of stuff you may like (it was a firm no on the condoms, though); she secretly glances at your own Pinterest boards to see what you have in mind.

She's getting somewhere, slowly but surely. She's got the ring, which she hid in the very corner of her locker. She's got an outfit picked out, stored at Wanda's place. She's rehearsed her speech dozens of times. There aren't many things left to do.

The day you get your exam results is inching closer like a dark cloud in the sky. You can feel the weight on your shoulders, so much so that you've almost forgotten about Natasha's promise — if you fail, I'm proposing. A joke, surely. Nothing to be taken seriously.

Still, the hope lingers. She manages to shatter it anyway, and the second time that happens, you think you're about to lose her for good.

It was supposed to be a long day. Your professor had made you get into groups for a project, so you met up at one of the girls' apartment to get started on it. It was tiring, and your head is still hurting from the unnecessary amount of candles and potpourri she has everywhere, but you finished early. The only logical thing to do is go home.

Standing in front of your apartment, you rummage through your purse. Your nails are red and chipped, a bandaid around your thumb — Niko's favorite chewing toy. You open the door, step in, and freeze.

Nothing. Silence. All the lights are turned off, the stroller is missing, the apartment feels empty. Natasha and Niko usually nap on the couch in the afternoon, but it's empty now.

You smell perfume, though. It's not yours, and it definitely isn't hers, either. You see the hoodie slung over the back of a chair, and you feel your skin start to crawl. It's pink and definitely not her size, and it doesn't belong to you, either.

Miami pops into your head, unbidden and intrusive. Stepping through that door and catching her with a stranger left its marks. You like to pretend it didn't, but you know it's true. Right now, you know it more than ever.

You turn around a few times, like you're expecting her to magically step out from behind a corner. But you're alone, and the apartment is empty, and Natasha is standing in the middle of a lecture hall.

She has no idea how they managed to sneak in here. It's noon on a Saturday, and it was locked — but she shouldn't underestimate Wanda with a hairpin, apparently. It took some wiggling and huffing, but eventually, the lock had clicked.

"You're sure about this?", Daisy asks, dragging her finger over one of the windowsills. A thick layer of dust is left on her finger. "This place is gross."

"It makes sense", Natasha defends herself. She's standing on the stairs that lead all the way down to where the professor stands. Niko's in his stroller, asleep and quiet for once. "I mean, I told you. She's not going to expect this, that's for sure."

"She is", Wanda mumbles under her breath. She's all the way in the back, trying to figure out of to make this happen. She doesn't understand Natasha's plan, either. But she seems intent on doing this her way, and they have no choice but to trust her. She's the one who's proposing, after all. She hopefully knows you better than they do.

Daisy nods at the ceiling. "Think we could hang up fairy lights?"

"Scatter the tables with roses", Wanda adds.

"Nothing too obvious", Natasha insists, her hands tucked into the pockets of her basketball shorts. "It's a surprise."

"I still can't believe you convinced her", Daisy says. She walks to the blackboard and nudges it a little further up. "Maybe draw something on this. Or write. I don't know."

Natasha has never been the most creative person. Her skills lie in the physical fields — in basketball and cardio, not poetry and art. Staring at the blackboard, which is still full of little specks of chalk, she can't come up with anything. The best she can offer would be a game strategy.

Daisy, on the other hand, is approaching this with a little more confidence. A few practiced hand movements later, Natasha and Wanda are staring at something that looks a lot like a certain genital.

"Can you take this seriously?", Natasha eventually snaps.

"It is serious."

"What's coming out of-...oh."

Behind her, Niko grunts in his sleep. He's still dozing, but she knows she's approaching the end of his nap. If she wants to get this done, she needs to be quick. But she's still clueless, and the baby makes another noise, and her phone buzzing is the final straw.

She fishes her phone out of her pocket and curses when she sees your name on the screen. Apparently, you're done early with whatever project you're working on. She'd know what it's about, but she's been a little preoccupied. Not even you could blame her for that.

"Who's that?", Wanda pipes up.

"Wifey", Daisy grins. She adds a condom wrapper and puts the chalk aside. "Look, no more accidental babies."

"Shut up", Natasha hisses. She picks up the call, hands sweating and mouth suddenly dry. Just weeks ago, she was joking about this. Joking about a proposal and marriage, joking about things that are now almost giving her more anxiety than the pregnancy did.

She clears her throat before speaking. You, on the other end of the line, frown.

"Yes?", Natasha says. She clears her throat again, and Niko finally wakes up enough to yawn and stretch. He blinks slowly, arms stretched above his head.

"Where are you? And where's my baby?"

Natasha tugs at the neckline of her shirt, silently trying not to panic. You sound pissed. If there's one thing she's learned, it's that you sounding angry when the apartment is empty is a bad sign. On any other occasion, you'd try and rest a bit. Instead, you're about to chew the hell out of her.

"Uhm", she says dumbly, but you're already on a rant.

"You can't keep doing this, you know! The apartment is empty, you idiot. You're both gone. It smells like perfume. Where the fuck are you? Do you know how worried I am?"

"No, I-"

"Who are you with?", you suddenly demand to know. Her cheeks are red and not by now, her eyes meeting Wanda's. All she gets from your best friend is a shrug.

"Listen", Natasha says. She's trying to explain without giving anything away, which seems impossible in that moment. A few years ago, she would've lied her way out of this without struggling at all. Unfortunately, she's somewhat honest now. "We're just, uh..."

"Okay, 'we'?"

"Wanda and Daisy!", she blurts.

There it is. You go silent on the other end of the line, and all she hears is a slow breath. Relief, probably. Or another wave of anger that's about to drown her.

You huff softly, but it doesn't sound angry anymore. Just tired. "Oh. Right."

"They wanted to see Niko", she continues, glancing at the baby. He's half-awake now, rubbing his eyes and his pacifier close to falling out of his mouth. "I thought, you know...we have the day off anyway."

"Got it", you say, nodding. You're feeling dumb now. Guilty, too. You should know better than to believe she'd do something like that. She's not a cheater. "Just come home soon."

"We're leaving in ten", she promises. You hang up again, and she slips her phone back into her pocket.

It does take them ten more minutes. Wanda gets a list of things to do, Daisy gets a list of things not to do. Natasha doesn't know what she's doing, but she's following her instincts. Hopefully, that'll be enough.

When she gets home, you can't even bring yourself to be mad at her. Red hair, in a low bun. A baby on her hip. A bouquet of roses in her hand, red and fresh. Her green eyes give you a look that's filled with half a dozen different apologies.

You want to cry. You're standing in the doorway, dressed in an oversized shirt and a pair of her boxers, all ready to fight. But she's sweaty and flushed, so all you manage to do is cup her face and kiss her stupid mouth. She doesn't taste different, thank god. Like plain chapstick and toothpaste, nothing else.

Not a hint of perfume on her clothes either, you silently register. Niko squeals and grabs your ear, and that's enough to make you pull away.

"You were worried?", she mumbles, snaking one arm around your waist. The roses press against your lower back. You reach up to brush strands of hair, curling slightly in the heat, from her face.

"Losing my mind, actually." You peck her lips again, your nose brushing against hers. "You brought flowers."

"You deserve them", she says, revealing the bouquet again. You accept it and try to breathe in the scent, but Niko is quicker. His chubby little hand darts forward and grasps one of the flowers. Red petals are squished between his fingers.

You raise your eyebrows at him and take his hand. A ticklish spot on his wrist makes his fingers loosen. Instead of trying to whine and complain, he stretches out his arms so you can pick him up. Natasha, his favorite mom — yeah right.

"He missed you", she adds, following you into the apartment. "I missed you. How was it?"

"The project? Not bad."

Natasha nods and leans against the wall. Her hands are back in the pockets of her shorts, and she's watching you as you change Niko on the couch. It's becoming more and more of a struggle every day. The more he wants to move, the closer he is to rolling off the couch.

"The exam results", she suddenly says. You glance at her, one hand resting on Niko's belly so he doesn't flop over. "Next week. You nervous?"

You grimace slightly. Exam results — two words you don't want to hear right now. You've been pushing those worries aside, as you can't do anything about it anymore either. Part of you is fairly certain you failed, though.

"Don't remind me", you say and reach for the wicker basket on the coffee table. You keep some of Niko's essentials, like diapers and wet wipes, there. "Do you know how much I'll have to work to make up for that? I'll have a nervous breakdown before summer starts, I'm telling you."

Natasha shifts and shrugs, a single red lock coming loose and blocking her left eye. "Not looking forward to it? Can't think of anything good that might happen?"

"Hold still", you mumble. Niko squeals and kicks at your hand, getting some diaper cream on his foot. You give her a quick, doubting look. "Are you on something? What's there to look forward to?"

Asking you this question was her way of gauging your mood. She's been worried about this for a while, because getting proposed to right after receiving a bad grade doesn't sound like the ideal way to get engaged. You might be too disappointed, after all. Or you might end up strangling her.

You're oblivious, though. You're too busy trying to keep your baby from somersaulting off the couch, so you close his diaper and use the heel of your hand to wipe the cream off his toes.

"I mean", Natasha begins. She falters. "I don't know. Like, maybe something nice happens. Come on, you can't be that negative."

The look you shoot at her makes her recoil a little. Eyebrows raised, you turn around to button Niko's onesie back up and scoop him into your arms.

"You're mocking me at this point", you say, irritated, and carry the baby into the bedroom. Natasha follows — she hesitates, but she follows. "You know I've been nervous for weeks, Nat."

"Yes, but-"

You stop in your tracks and whip around, jamming your finger into her chest. Her eyes widen and she comes to a sudden halt. You're in a shirt that's swallowing you whole, diaper cream on your knee and a sleepy baby on your hip. Yet, she's never been more terrified.

Except for once. She's not forgetting about the night in the dorm anytime soon.

"I don't need you to go on and on about this", you say firmly. Niko nuzzles your shoulder with his face and yawns. "I don't keep reminding you of basketball games either when you haven't been practicing enough. So quit it."

She lifts her hands. She's powerless here, and arguing would only make matters worse. If she wants you to say yes, she should probably make sure you don't leave her before she has the chance to ask.

"Alright", she says, furrowing her eyebrows. You sigh and put your hand on Niko's back again. "I'll let it go, babe."

"Good."

Natasha stays in the doorway, watching you sit down and lift your shirt. Six days — that's when you're getting your results back. Six days, and she has to make sure she doesn't screw up. The ring is in her locker already, waiting patiently behind old clothes and a stack of books.

There's not much time to make another mistake. But Natasha's a woman of many talents, and she manages to do it anyway.

. . .

Friday morning. Natasha's been up since 4am, and this time, it isn't Niko's fault. It's her anxiety, the tingling feeling in her stomach, the ring that's now hidden in the back of the closet.

You haven't noticed yet, somehow. You're at the kitchen table, attached to the breastmilk pump and yawning, one hand rocking Niko's bassinet. He's asleep with his hand resting on his tummy. You've been oblivious all morning, but that's about to change.

You watch Natasha as she darts around the kitchen like a restless bird. Pots clatter, the coffee machine grinds, and she curses when she drops a slice of whole grain bread. She bends over to pick it up, then goes back to opening one drawer after the other.

"Nat?", you ask, still rocking the bassinet. She doesn't even look at you. "Hey, babe. How many energy drinks did you have?"

"Huh?" She turns around, eyes sleep-deprived and hair disheveled. "None. Why?"

"You're running around like a headless chicken", you say. "It's making me nervous."

"That's not exactly my issue", she mutters, turning back around. She closes the drawer, but instead of doing it gently, she accidentally slams it back into place. Silverware rattles loudly, and Niko fusses in his bassinet. "Shit, fuck- sorry."

You frown, one hand rubbing the baby's belly. He goes right back to sleep. But what really worries you is Natasha, and her behavior these past couple weeks. She's somewhere else all the time. She's texting people at night, when she thinks you're asleep. You heard her take a call in the bathroom once, her voice a hushed whisper.

Something's going on, and she won't tell you what it is. Not knowing makes it all the more scary.

"Do you want to talk?", you ask and get up. You remove the breast pumps and carry them to the baby bottles by the sink. Natasha immediately leans in, pressing an apologetic kiss to your temple. "You're acting weird."

"Weird?", she mumbles, still nuzzling your temple. Her arms wrap around your shoulders. "Not weird. Hm, you smell nice."

You pull away to give her a confused look, but she doesn't budge. One hand sneaks to the waistband of your sweatpants, but you lightly slap it aside.

"I'm the one who's postpartum", you remind her. "Mood swings are my thing. What's wrong with you?"

Natasha frowns, clearly offended. Still, you see the anxious little flicker in her eyes. The one that hasn't disappeared in weeks. Not fully.

"Wrong?", she asks, putting her hand on your side once more. She hooks her thumb into the waistband. "Nothing's wrong with me. I'm just appreciating my beautiful girlfriend. You're so hot, you know."

"And you're acting off", you retort. You slip out of her embrace and grab the baby bottles. "We're leaving soon. Are you going to keep staring at my ass or make yourself useful?"

Your question doesn't even register. She's been thinking about the engagement ring in the closet all day, but now that she's able to ogle you, it's not the only thing on her mind. Unfortunately, you have different plans.

Before you leave the house, she manages to sneak into the bedroom one more time. The red velvet feels soft beneath her fingertips, and she slides it into her backpack.

You both have class, so you part for the first two hours of the morning. Much to Natasha's relief — she still needs to meet up with Wanda to make sure everything's ready.

Phone in her hand and hair in a low bun, she stands in front of her open locker. She's typing on her phone, her head almost fully inside the dark space. It smells like deodorant and something old, but at least she's not being bothered by anyone. It's quiet, it's allowing her to be deep in thought. All she can see is the lit up screen in her hands.

Then, someone taps her shoulder. Slamming her phone into the locker screen-down, she whips around. The eyes she meets are way too familiar. She sees them every day, every night. She's seen them in every situation imaginable.

There it is. The third time she almost screws it up.

"Y/N", she stutters, blindly reaching for the door of the locker. Her hand slips from it once before she finally shuts it. "What are you- I thought we're meeting in the library."

"We were", you say, a frown on your face. You didn't miss the way she tossed her phone into the locker. "Were you trying to climb in there?"

"No, just..." She shakes her head, sweating already. She thought she'd have at least another half an hour before she'd soak through her shirt, but maybe she was wrong. "Just looking for my hoodie."

You glance at the locker again, think about her phone that's buried somewhere in the mess inside it. Natasha tries to distract you by scooping Niko from your arms, but it doesn't work. She was texting someone. She was hiding inside her locker, and she panicked when you showed up.

You shift your weight from one leg to the other. Your fingers are twisting your earring nervously, but your voice is quiet and sharp.

"If you have something to tell me", you say, "you better tell me now. Seriously. I'm sick of your lies."

Natasha's eyes flicker up from Niko's face. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. She was nervous before already — she barely slept, battled nausea and jitters all morning, tried to keep herself from bolting. After all this time, she isn't perfect. Proposing has turned out to be a bigger challenge than she thought it'd be, no matter how committed she might be.

"No lies", she promises. Niko squawks and slaps her chest. "Promise. You just startled me."

"Natasha", you hiss, stepping closer. "Stop lying. What are you hiding?"

She looks at you, heart beating wildly and face dumbfounded. You're not backing down from this. You're inches away from her face, smelling like perfume and looking like you're about to murder her on the spot.

She's trapped. There's no way out. Either she explains, or you're storming out and causing the plans she has to go up in flames. Neither choice is good, but she knows which one sounds less painful. She has to ruin the surprise, even if it stings.

But then, she looks over your shoulder just in time. Daisy is hurrying down the hallway, waving the phone in her hand. The midterm results are in, which means you'll get distracted. Natasha perks up.

"Hey!", she says. You frown and turn around. "Midterms! Came in five minutes ago!"

You blink, then reach into your pocket and pull out your phone. Natasha was right: you are distracted. You're still not happy with her, but you're too focused on logging into the course portal. The grade pops up on your screen, but you don't really have to check it. There's a word next to it, all capital letters and red, which tells you what you need to know.

FAILED.

Natasha peeks at the screen right as you turn off your phone. You're not too surprised, but the result is disappointing anyway. Catching up will be hard.

"Oh", she mumbles. She glances at your face. "Sorry, babe."

"No, I..." You exhale and shake your head. "It's fine. It sucks, but it's fine. I'll catch up, right?"

She hums, eyebrows furrowed slightly. "You're sad. I can think of something to change that."

You give her an irritated look. No way is she trying to use this to initiate sex. You're on campus, in the middle of a hallway, and she's trying to take your clothes off again. But she doesn't flinch, doesn't back down.

"You think that's funny?"

"It's not", she says, her voice sincere. She grabs your hand to lift it to her lips and press a kiss against your knuckles. "I know what'll cheer you up. Don't trust me?"

"No", you quickly reply. Natasha huffs. "You're acting weird. Again."

She tugs at your hand, as insistent as ever. She's always been like this. Even back then when you rejected her time after time, she kept trying. She knew it'd be worth it, and she still does. The only difference is that, now, it isn't about sex.

"Please", she says. Her hand squeezes yours, her feet start to move. The soles of her shoes squeak on vinyl flooring, and you're following her without really realizing. Niko's still in her arms, now dozing off. "Just this once."

"You've said that before", you remind her and narrow your eyes.

Natasha cracks a smile and shrugs. You've rounded the corner and are now approaching one of the lecture halls. Not having expected this, you blink a few times when she leads you towards it. She lets go of your hand to open the door.

Inside, it's different than usual. Not all of it is — the tiered seating, the fold-down chairs, are all the same. The smell of old paper and chalk, too, as well as the empty podium and the large blackboard.

But fairy lights hang from the ceiling. There's a thin stack of papers on one of the tables, as well as a pen next to it. Her cologne is woven through the other, less comforting smells.

You look at her, still wary. "What the fuck."

She rolls her eyes and nudges you toward the seats. You sigh and step closer, glancing at the stack of papers. All that's written on the front is your name in big letters. Natasha's handwriting.

"Sit down", she says. Niko lets out a sleepy yawn, but his green eyes are glued to the lights stretching across the ceiling. "Come find me after."

You shake your head, still staring at the papers. By the time her words have registered, she's left. The door has fallen shut and you're alone in the lecture hall.

The epiphany is sudden and unbearable. This is what she's been so secretive about. You've been distrustful and snippy about it, but she spent weeks working on whatever this is anyway. She kept going until the very last second.

Your footsteps are loud in the empty space. You slowly sit down, eyes on the papers, and reach for the pen. You flip the first page over and skim it — multiple choice questions —, then actually read the first question.

1. Where did we meet?

Ⓡ Library

Ⓓ University's main entrance

Ⓨ Parking lot

Ⓛ Behind a bar

It makes you pause. Every muscle in your body seems to go rigid for a moment. It's a pop quiz, a custom one Natasha made. And you're supposed to sit here, and answer questions, and hopefully find out what the hell she's planned.

You have an idea, but you don't dare hold onto that hope. Maybe this is a setup.

You hesitate for a second, then pull the cap off the pen and put a cross over the Ⓓ. If there's one thing you're not forgetting, it's where you met. How you met, really. You could swear you still feel a slight dent in the back of your head.

You look at the second question and purse your lips.

2. Great choice! What did I throw at you? (Sorry about that)

Ⓩ Water bottle

Ⓖ Eraser

Ⓒ Myself lol

Ⓞ Basketball

It's answer Ⓞ, of course. Your hand instinctively feels for the dent at the back of your head, but you can't find it. You probably imagined having one in the first place.

The next questions continue in a similar manner. From the color of her jersey to your favorite lipstick, your first kiss and your anniversary. You hold your breath when you reach the last one.

8. Who should not have to work a day in their life?

Ⓦ Me

Ⓐ Niko

Ⓤ Random guy from the gym

Ⓜ︎ My wife (you?)

You stare at it for a long while. Another thing you remember. The night you tried and miserably failed to study for your midterm. Endless slides of molecular biology knowledge, a colicky baby, a less than helpful but well meaning Natasha. Suddenly, her intentions are clear.

Your hand shakes as you put a cross over the Ⓜ︎. You skim the answers, the letters of the answers to be exact, and write them down one by one.

D - O - R - M R - O - O - M

You shove the pen aside with so much force that it rolls off the table, but you ignore it. Instead, you get up and leave the fairy lights-adorned space that Natasha may have changed forever. If you ever have another lecture here, you won't be able to think about anything else.

You know what she's talking about. Your old dorm — it's where you spent a majority of your relationship. Before Niko, before you even thought about calling this love. Back then, getting to the point you're at now seemed impossible. But things are different.

Your heart is pounding in your ears. Whatever she's about to do — she means it. That alone makes the weeks of fear and uncertainty worth it. Suddenly, the way to the dormitory seems unnecessarily long.

The door creaks when you push it open. Inside the hallway of the dorm, it still smells the exact same as it did about a year ago. Mildew, citrus, beer. There's a cigarette butt and some shards on the floor, but you ignore those. You reach the elevator and repeatedly push the button to make the old device react.

The doors seem to be stuck for a moment, then they finally slide open. You press the button to the desired floor without having to think about it. They slide open again, revealing a hallway that's dark and familiar. You step out and stare at the door across from you.

There were stickers on it once. Tons of them, covering it and giving it a little life. Whoever moved into the dorm room now peeled them off. They're all gone, except for a little part of Strawberry Shortcake's hat.

You hesitate when you see the flicker of light coming from the narrow gap underneath the door. But then you step closer, and the doorknob still feels round and cold in your hand, and a single twist of it reveals your old dorm room. Your heart stumbles when you see it.

A twin bed and a desk. An old closet. More fairy lights, a bunch of candles, and Natasha going down on her knee so fast she almost topples over. For once, she's in a suit. It's even ironed. You didn't think that detail would be the one to make you tear up, but somehow, it is.

The best part is her face, though. You've never seen her this nervous, and the tears in your eyes only worsen the anxiety. Her hands shake when she pulls out a little velvet box and opens it, and the ring inside shimmers.

"Y/N-", she begins, voice just as unsteady. You don't really need to hear the rest, though. You're seeing enough, and you've known your answer to this for a while.

"Yes."

She looks up and blinks. Her eyebrows furrow a little and she tries to shift her weight. "Dude, I have a speech prepared."

You shake your head and rub your eyes. "Sorry, I..." You let out a choked little laugh and gesture at her. "You look ridiculous. Keep going."

Natasha stares for another moment, her heart thrumming. She clears her throat and tries to remember what she wrote down — a full page, which is impressive considering she doesn't like to write much. But the words fail her, and so she needs to improvise.

"I practiced this in front of the mirror", she explains, absently toying with the ring box. "I tried. I got interrupted. This will probably suck, you know, but I make up for it in other ways. Promise."

"Yeah", you mumble, nodding. "You do."

"I try", she adds. "Every day. For you and Niko. I don't want him to remember a day where there wasn't a ring on your finger. He should know how amazing his mom is. Because you are, and I want you to know that. I want to be the one telling you that forever. Every game I win is for you."

At this point, you're barely keeping yourself from dragging her off the floor and into a kiss. Your eyes are burning, your jaw is set stubbornly. But Natasha is still reciting quotes from the poetry book that her mind has turned into, and truthfully, it's too sweet to interrupt.

"I'm sweating through my shirt", she says, shifting again. You've seen her restless before, usually at important events. If she could, she'd wear sweatpants and a hoodie everywhere. "I ironed it myself. I think you can tell."

"I can't", you say. You opt for a faint smile, but your eyes are burning. "I don't know how to iron, either. Sorry about that."

Natasha smiles back, her grip on the ring box getting tighter. The fairy lights around her flicker softly and she looks down at the floor. She swore to herself she wouldn't cry, but she doesn't think she'll be able not to.

"That's fine", she says. "We'll survive wrinkly clothes. We survived everything else, too."

"Dramatic", you whisper. But she's right, anyway. You survived months of living off ramen, you survived the fights and the days where you didn't think it'd get better. Months of pining, which was worse because it was mutual.

There was no communication. All you knew was to get loud.

"No", Natasha says. "Not dramatic. I was the worst version of myself and you still wanted me. That's really fucking impressive, by the way. And...I had a quote prepared, but I think I forgot."

You shake your head. It feels like the room is spinning. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm sweating through my suit", she adds, tugging at one lapel. "This was supposed to be longer, but I kinda feel faint. And I can't really ask you if I pass out, so...”

Natasha holds the box a little higher. She tilts her head to the side and smiles, but her voice cracks. "Marry me?"

You've said yes already. A bunch of times, actually — when you walked into the lecture hall and took the fake pop quiz. When you walked to your old dorm. When you saw her on one knee, hair just slightly messy and cheeks as pink as if she'd been practicing basketball for hours. She never needed to finish the speech.

You say it again, anyway.

"Yes."

Natasha stares, heart pounding faster than when they won the championship game last March. She almost drops her ring on her way to you, but remembers its purpose in the last second.

Her hand grips yours, and the piece of jewelry is slid onto your ring finger. Before she can do much else, you've grabbed the front of her suit and pulled her into a kiss that makes her stumble.

She catches herself quickly, though, and her hands land on your waist. She doesn't resist when you walk her backwards. In fact, a very obvious part of her seems to approve of being pushed onto the twin bed.

Natasha paid the girl who lives here now $200 to move her stuff out for the day and let her use the room. She never said anything about using the bed, but that's a problem for later. You're straddling her already, which makes it hard to think anyway.

Your hands fumble with the buttons of her shirt. Your mouth presses against hers again and again, lips slick and noses bumping.

"Where's...the baby?...", you ask in between kisses. You finally slip off her shirt.

"Daisy", she mumbles. She pulls away to start peppering kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone. In the middle of sucking a hickey into your skin, she pauses. "Hey, I remember the quote."

"Not the time", you say, pushing her down. Your hands reach for her zipper, opening it and pulling at her slacks. She lifts her hips to help you. "No condom?"

She shakes her head and watches you undress. Her chest is heaving with each breath, and she's fighting hard for every single one. "We risked it once. Turned out fine."

You hum and sink down. You both moan at the same time, and you bury your hands in her hair once you've undone her braid. She leans in to bury her face in your chest.

"Love you", she mumbles. Hands on your hips, she guides every movement. "Thank you for saying yes."

You scoff, but it melts into a moan when she thrusts up into you. "Don't- don't thank me. Ruins it."

"You're right."

Natasha's fingers curl into your skin, her thumbs rubbing circles into it. Little stretch marks look like a map, and she's memorized them a while ago. Her lips press kisses to your chest, her face nuzzling it. You come with her body under yours and her ring on your finger.

Moments later, you're curled up on the bed together. You're playing with strands of her hair. The room smells like candles and the chocolate covered strawberries she forgot on the dresser.

Her hand runs up and down your back, tracing your spine. A kiss is placed on your forehead. You look up, immediately seeing her eyes, and tilt your head at the look in them. She smiles lazily.

"Want to hear the quote?"