#I'm actually quite happy with this one ^^

[l4tchk3y]

I love Espio so much. I wish chameleons were real.

[crybabycabin]

pressure points | b.b.

✮ synopsis: bucky's gotten good at keeping his distance from his harmless, sunshine-y neighbor. but when you get taken because of him—because someone figured out you're his weak spot—he realizes how spectacularly that plan backfired. turns out the winter soldier's soft spot is a lot more dangerous than he thought.

✮ pairing: post-thunderbolts!bucky x fem!reader

✮ disclaimers: violence, kidnapping, blood and injury, torture (not graphic), angst with a happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, established feelings but complicated relationship, second person POV, fem!reader, miscommunication, intense yearning, emotionally constipated!bucky, past trauma, mild language, fighting sequences

✮ word count: 10.6k

✮ a/n: first fic on this blog and it's basically just 10k words of soft bucky yearning xoxo

The first time Bucky Barnes sees you, you're trying to shove a couch through a doorway that's at least six inches too narrow, and losing spectacularly.

He's coming home from another pointless congressional hearing—the kind where everyone talks in circles about defense budgets while carefully not mentioning the alien invasion from three months ago—when he spots you in the hallway. You're wedged between the arm of what looks like a vintage velvet monstrosity and the doorframe of 4B, hair escaping from whatever you'd tried to contain it with, muttering a stream of increasingly creative profanity.

"Fucking—come on—you absolute bastard of a���"

The couch shifts. You yelp. Bucky's halfway down the hall before he realizes he's moving.

"Need a hand?"

You twist around, and something in his chest does this stupid, inconvenient flip. Your face is flushed, one cheek smudged with what might be dust or maybe yesterday's mascara, and you're looking at him like—well. Like he's not Bucky Barnes. Like he's just some guy in the hallway who might know how geometry works.

"Oh thank god," you breathe, and the relief in it makes his mouth twitch. "I've been battling this thing for twenty minutes. I think it's winning."

He assesses the situation with the same tactical precision he'd use for a Bulgarian arms deal, if arms deals came upholstered in emerald green and smelled faintly of vanilla perfume mixed with fresh sweat. The angle's all wrong. You've been trying to force it through horizontally when it needs to go vertical, then rotate.

"Here." He steps closer, and you shift to make room, your shoulder brushing his chest in a way that absolutely doesn't make his pulse stutter. "If we flip it—"

"Oh, you're strong," you say, like an observation about the weather, as he essentially deadlifts one end of your couch. The metal arm whirs faintly. You don't flinch. "That's convenient."

Convenient. Right. He maneuvers the couch through the doorway in three efficient moves, trying not to notice how you smell like coffee and something floral, how you hover just inside his peripheral vision like you're trying not to crowd him but can't quite stay away.

"There." He sets it down in what's clearly the only spot it could go in your tiny living room. The space is chaos—boxes everywhere, art leaning against walls, books stacked in precarious towers. "You just moving in?"

"Yeah, from—" You wave a hand vaguely eastward. "Nicer neighborhood. Turns out freelance graphic design doesn't pay for Manhattan rent. Who knew?" The self-deprecation comes with a grin that transforms your whole face, and Bucky has to look away, focus on the box labeled 'KITCHEN SHIT' in aggressive Sharpie. "I'm—well, you probably don't care what my name is."

He does, actually. Cares in a way that makes his teeth ache.

"Bucky," he offers, even though you clearly already know. "4C."

"The grumpy congressman." Your grin goes wider, teasing. "I've seen you on C-SPAN. You look like you're being held at gunpoint during those hearings."

"Feel like it too," he mutters, and the laugh you give him hits like a shot of whiskey—warm and slightly dizzying.

"Well, Congressman Barnes of apartment 4C, you've just saved my Saturday. Can I pay you in beer? I've got—" You dig through a box, emerge triumphant with two bottles. "Hipster IPA or hipster IPA?"

He should say no. Should maintain boundaries. Should remember what happened the last time he let someone get close—the scar on his ribs from Belgrade still aches when it rains.

Instead, he finds himself accepting a bottle, listening to you chatter about the neighbor who warned you about the rats (definitely real) and the ghost (probably not real but who knows), watching how you gesture with your whole body when you talk, like you're too much for your own skin.

It's dangerous, how easy you are to be around. How you look at him like he's just Bucky, not the former Asset, not the killer, not the congressman who can't pass a single fucking bill. Just a guy who helped with your couch.

He stays too long. Drinks two beers. Helps you unpack exactly three boxes before some long-dormant self-preservation instinct kicks in and he makes excuses about constituent emails.

"Thanks again," you say at the door, and there's something in your eyes—curiosity, maybe. Interest. "For the couch. And the company."

"No problem."

He's halfway to his own door when you call out: "Hey, Barnes?"

He turns. You're leaning against your doorframe, backlit by the disaster zone of your apartment, smiling that smile that makes his chest tight.

"I make really good coffee. You know. If congressional hearings ever drive you to caffeine dependency."

It's an offer. An opening. Everything in him screams to close it, lock it down, maintain operational security. Instead, his traitorous mouth says, "I'll keep that in mind."

He's so fucked.

The thing is, Bucky's gotten good at keeping people at arm's length. Seventy years of being a weapon teaches him that distance equals safety—for them, not him.

When you're already dead, what's a little more damage?

So he shouldn't notice when you start leaving your apartment at 7:23 every morning, shouldering a bag that's always slipping off your shoulder. Shouldn't time his own exits to avoid those encounters, then feel like an asshole when he succeeds. Definitely shouldn't lie awake listening through the thin walls as you sing along to whatever pop music you play while cooking, off-key and enthusiastic.

But here's the other thing: you make it really fucking hard to maintain distance.

You leave cookies outside his door with notes that say things like "for emergency constituent-induced rage" and "survival fuel for C-SPAN." You knock when you know he's home, ask to borrow sugar or vodka or a screwdriver, then stay to chat like his apartment isn't just bare walls and a couch Sam made him buy. You touch—casual, constant. A hand on his arm when you laugh, fingers brushing when you hand him things, like physical contact isn't something that makes his brain static out.

"You're a really good listener," you tell him one evening, three weeks into whatever this is. You're sitting on his floor, back against his couch, because you'd knocked asking for wine and then somehow ended up staying. Your knee presses against his thigh. He's catastrophically aware of every point of contact. "Like, actually good. Not just waiting for your turn to talk."

"Not much of a talker," he says, which is true and also easier than explaining that he's memorizing everything—how you twist your rings when you're nervous, the way your voice drops when you're saying something real, how you look in his space like you belong there.

"Bullshit." You bump his shoulder. He doesn't flinch anymore, which is either progress or a sign he's completely fucked. "You're just selective. Quality over quantity."

You say things like that—observations that feel like being seen, really seen, not just looked at. It's terrifying. It's addictive. It's going to get you killed.

Because here's the thing Bucky knows down to his bones: everything he touches turns to ash. Everyone he cares about becomes a target. And you—with your sunshine laugh and your disaster apartment and your way of looking at him like he's worth something—you're exactly the kind of light that attracts the worst kind of dark.

He should stay away.

He doesn't.

"So," Sam says, watching Bucky check his phone for the third time during their coffee meeting. "Who is she?"

"What?" Bucky pockets the phone. You'd texted asking if he knew how to fix a leaky faucet. He knows seventeen ways to kill a man with a faucet. Fixing one can't be that different. "Nobody. Work thing."

"Uh-huh." Sam's doing that face, the one that means he's about to be insufferably perceptive. "That's why you just smiled at your phone. Over a work thing. You. Smiled."

"I smile."

"No, you do this thing with your mouth that's like a smile's evil twin. This was an actual smile. So. Who is she?"

Bucky takes a long drink of coffee, considering how much lying is worth the effort. "Neighbor."

"Neighbor." Sam leans back, grinning. "Cute neighbor?"

The memory of you last night, paint in your hair and gesturing wildly about your latest client, flashes unbidden. His silence is apparently answer enough.

"Buck. Man. This is good. You need—"

"I need to not get people killed," Bucky cuts him off. "I need to remember that anyone who gets close to me ends up hurt. I need—"

"You need a life," Sam interrupts right back. "You need to stop punishing yourself for shit that wasn't your fault. You need to let yourself have something good."

Bucky's jaw works. The phone buzzes again. He doesn't check it.

"She doesn't know what she's getting into," he says finally. "She's—" Bright. Warm. Good. "She's not part of this world."

"So keep her out of it." Sam makes it sound simple. Like there's a way to compartmentalize, to have you without putting you at risk. "Be her neighbor. Be normal. Be happy, for once in your goddamn life."

Normal. Right. Because nothing says normal like a centenarian ex-assassin with more kills than most armies and a metal arm that could crush a skull like an egg.

But then he thinks about your smile when he fixed your garbage disposal last week. How you'd said "my hero" in this teasing, fond way that made him want impossible things. How you treat him like he's just Bucky, not a weapon someone else aimed.

"I don't know how," he admits, quieter than he meant to.

Sam's expression softens. "Nobody does, man. You just try anyway."

The faucet thing turns into a whole production.

You answer the door in tiny pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt that says "FEMINIST KILLJOY" in glitter letters, and Bucky's brain shorts out for a solid three seconds. Your hair's piled on top of your head in what might generously be called a bun, and there's toothpaste at the corner of your mouth, and he wants to—

"Oh good, you're here," you say, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside. Your fingers are warm through his henley. "It's making this noise like a dying whale. I tried YouTube tutorials but I think I made it worse."

The kitchen is a disaster. Tools scattered everywhere, water pooling on the floor, YouTube still playing on your laptop ("—sure to turn off the water main first—"). You've clearly been at this for a while.

"Did you turn off the water?" he asks, already knowing the answer from the growing puddle.

"I turned off a valve," you say defensively. "Several valves. None of them seemed to be the right valve."

He finds himself fighting a smile as he locates the actual shut-off. You hover behind him as he works, close enough that he can feel your breath on his neck, keeping up a running commentary that's part apology, part stand-up routine.

"—and then the wrench slipped and I maybe screamed a little bit, and Mrs. Nguyen next door started banging on the wall, and I had to yell that I wasn't being murdered, just defeating by plumbing—"

"Hand me the—" He turns to ask for the wrench at the same moment you lean forward to see what he's doing. Your faces end up inches apart. Time does that thing where it forgets how to work properly.

Your eyes are very wide. There's a water droplet on your cheek. Bucky's hand twitches with the urge to wipe it away.

"Wrench," he manages, voice rougher than intended.

"Right. Wrench. That's a—" You scramble backward, nearly slip on the wet floor. He catches your elbow automatically, steadying you, and your skin is so warm under his fingers it feels like a brand. "Thanks. I'm not usually this much of a disaster. Actually, that's a lie. I'm exactly this much of a disaster, you've just caught me on a particularly disastrous day."

He fixes the faucet in under ten minutes. You insist on making coffee as payment, which turns into leftover pizza, which turns into three hours on your couch watching some reality show about people making elaborate cakes. You provide running commentary that's funnier than the show itself, and Bucky finds himself actually laughing—not the dry chuckle he's perfected for public appearances, but real laughter that comes from somewhere deep in his chest.

"See?" you say during a commercial break, grinning at him. "I told you this show was addictive. Next week they're making a life-size dragon cake that actually breathes fire."

"Next week?" The words slip out before he can stop them, too revealing.

Your grin softens into something else, something that makes his chest tight. "Well, yeah. You can't miss fire-breathing dragon cake. That's un-American."

It becomes a thing. Thursday nights, your couch, increasingly ridiculous cooking shows. You always have too much dinner ("I'm terrible at portions, shut up"), he always fixes something that's broken ("it's not broken, it's just temperamental"), and somewhere between cake disasters and your laughter, Bucky forgets to maintain distance.

"Your boyfriend's here," Mrs. Nguyen announces loudly when Bucky knocks on your door a month later, because apparently the entire floor has decided they're invested in whatever this is.

"He's not my—" Your voice cuts off as you open the door. You're wearing a dress, which is new. Red, which is newer. Lipstick, which is going to kill him. "Hi."

"Hi." His brain's stuck on the curve of your shoulder, the way the fabric clings. "Going out?"

"Wedding. Old college friend." You're fidgeting with your earring, a sure tell that you're nervous. "I hate weddings. All that optimism and overpriced chicken."

"So don't go."

"Can't. I already RSVP'd, and I'm a good friend even if I'm a wedding-hating gremlin." You pause, still fiddling with the earring. "Unless..."

He knows what's coming by the way you're biting your lip. "No."

"You don't even know what I was going to ask!"

"You were going to ask me to go with you."

"...okay, so you did know." You lean against the doorframe, giving him a look that's probably supposed to be convincing but mostly just highlights how your eyes catch the hallway light. "Come on. You're a congressman. You must love overpriced chicken and small talk."

"I really don't."

"There's an open bar."

"Still no."

"I'll owe you one. One big favor. Anything."

That makes him pause, but not for the reason you think. The idea of you owing him anything makes his skin itch. You already give too much—your time, your laughter, your casual touches that rewire his brain. But the idea of watching you navigate a wedding alone, of other people getting to see you in that dress...

"Fine," he hears himself say. "But I'm not dancing."

The smile you give him could power Brooklyn for a week.

He's absolutely, catastrophically unprepared for how you look in candlelight.

The wedding venue is one of those rustic-chic places that thinks exposed beams equal personality. You're at table eight, which puts you safely in "college friends but not close enough for the wedding party" territory. You've been providing whispered commentary all through the ceremony ("five bucks says she wrote her vows the night before"), your shoulder pressed against his in a way that makes paying attention to anything else physically impossible.

"See that bridesmaid?" You nod toward a blonde who's definitely already three champagnes deep. "That's Amber. We were roommates sophomore year. She once tried to seduce our RA by leaving Post-it poetry on his door."

"Did it work?"

"Depends on your definition of 'work.' She did get his attention. Also a conduct violation." You're playing with the stem of your wine glass, fingers tracing patterns. "Thanks for this, by the way. I know wearing a suit and making small talk isn't exactly your idea of fun."

He could tell you that wearing a suit is nothing compared to tac gear, that small talk is easier than Senate hearings. Could mention that the way you keep unconsciously leaning into him makes any discomfort worth it. Instead: "It's fine."

"Such enthusiasm." But you're smiling, soft and maybe a little fond. "Dance with me?"

"I said no dancing."

"You said that before you had champagne. And before they played—" You tilt your head, listening. "Oh my god, is this Bon Jovi? We have to dance to Bon Jovi. It's the law."

"That's not a law."

"It's a law of wedding physics. Come on, Barnes. One dance. I promise not to step on your feet much."

The thing is, he can't say no to you. It's becoming a problem. You want him to fix your sink? Done. Need someone to hold your laptop while you Skype your mother? He's there. Want him to dance to "Livin' on a Prayer" at some stranger's wedding? Apparently, that's happening too.

You're a terrible dancer. Genuinely awful. You have no sense of rhythm, keep trying to lead, and you're laughing too hard to even pretend otherwise. It's perfect. He spins you out just to watch your dress flare, pulls you back too close, and for a moment—your hand in his, your face tilted up, surrounded by fairy lights and other people's happiness—he forgets why this is a bad idea.

"See?" you say, slightly breathless. "Dancing's not so bad."

His hand is on your waist. He can feel your pulse through the thin fabric. "No. Not so bad."

Someone bumps into you from behind, pushing you fully against his chest. Your hands come up to steady yourself, one landing over his heart, and he knows you can feel how it stumbles. Your smile falters, shifts into something else. Something that looks dangerously like realization.

"Bucky—"

"They're cutting the cake," he says, stepping back. The loss of contact feels like losing a limb. "Should probably watch. For your show."

You blink, then recover. "Right. Yeah. Cake."

But you're quiet for the rest of the reception, and he catches you looking at him with this expression he can't decode. Like you're working through a complex equation and not liking the answer.

He drives home. You spend the ride fiddling with your phone, uncharacteristically silent. When he pulls up to the building, you don't immediately get out.

"I'm sorry if I—" you start.

"Don't." It comes out harsher than intended. He tries again, softer: "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Feels like I did." You're still not looking at him. "I forget sometimes, that you're—that we're—"

"Friends," he supplies, even though the word tastes like ash. "We're friends."

"Right." You finally meet his eyes, and there's something careful in your expression now. Guarded. "Friends."

You're out of the car before he can figure out what to say to fix this. He watches you disappear into the building first, red dress like a wound in the grey evening, and knows he's fucked everything up without quite understanding how.

You pull back after that.

It's subtle—you still smile when you see him in the hall, still text him memes at inappropriate hours. But you stop knocking on his door for impromptu dinners. Stop touching him casually. When he offers to fix your eternally-dripping showerhead, you say you'll call the super instead.

"You're moping," Sam tells him two weeks later, during one of their mandatory "make sure Bucky's not spiraling" brunch dates.

"I don't mope."

"You're the Black Widow of moping. The Michael Jordan of emotional constipation." Sam pauses. "That neighbor you mentioned?"

Bucky's silence is damning.

"What'd you do?"

"Why do you assume I did something?"

"Because you always do something. You get close to someone, panic, and pull some self-sabotaging bullshit." Sam's voice gentles. "Talk to me, man."

Bucky stares at his coffee like it holds answers. "She wanted to dance."

"...okay?"

"At a wedding. And I—we danced. And it was..." He doesn't have words for what it was. How you felt in his arms, how the world narrowed down to just the two of you, how for a moment he forgot he was dangerous. "And then I shut it down."

"Why?"

"Because." He sets the mug down too hard, coffee sloshing. "Because she's sunshine, Sam. She's late-night cooking shows and glitter pens and leaving snacks for the delivery guy. She has no idea what I've done, what I'm capable of—"

"Did you ever think maybe she does know and doesn't care?"

"Then she's naïve."

"Or maybe she just sees you better than you see yourself." Sam leans forward. "Buck, you can't protect people by pushing them away. That's not how it works."

"It's worked so far."

"Has it? Because from where I'm sitting, you're miserable, she's probably confused as hell, and nobody's actually safer."

Bucky wants to argue, but then his phone buzzes. Your name pops up: my smoke alarm is having an existential crisis. is it supposed to beep in morse code?

He's already standing before he realizes it.

"Go," Sam says, shaking his head but smiling. "Fix her smoke alarm. Talk to her like a human being. Maybe try not to fuck it up this time."

Your door is already cracked when he gets there, smoke rolling out in lazy waves.

"I'm not on fire!" you call before he can knock. "Well, the oven mitt was, but I handled it."

He finds you on a chair, ineffectively fanning the smoke detector with a dish towel. You're wearing those little pajama shorts again and his brain still isn't prepared for the sight.

"How does an oven mitt catch fire?" He reaches up, disables the alarm with practiced ease.

"Well, when you forget it's on your hand and rest it on the stove burner..." You shrink a little at his look. "I was distracted."

"By what?"

You don't answer, just hop down from the chair. This close, he can see the flour in your hair, the way you're worrying your bottom lip. "Thanks. Sorry for texting, I know it's late—"

"Why are you apologizing?"

"Because—" You make a frustrated gesture. "Because I'm trying to give you space. Because you clearly regretted the wedding thing and I'm trying not to be that neighbor who develops inconvenient feelings—"

"Feelings?" His brain snags on the word like cloth on a nail.

You go very still. "Shit. I mean. Not feelings. Just. You know. Neighbor...ly concern. Very platonic. Super appropriate."

"You're a terrible liar."

"Yeah, well, you're terrible at—" You stop, visibly collecting yourself. When you speak again, your voice is carefully level: "I like you, okay? More than I should. And I know that's not what you want, and I'm trying really hard to be okay with that, but you standing in my kitchen looking all concerned while I'm having a feelings crisis is really not helping."

The words hit him like a physical blow. You like him. More than you should.

"You don't know me," he says, defaulting to the easiest argument.

"Bullshit." There's heat in your voice now. "I know you reorganize my bookshelf when you think I'm not looking because the chaos bothers you. I know you bring me coffee on Tuesdays because you noticed I have early meetings. I know you have nightmares—yeah, the walls are thin—and I know you pace afterwards like you're trying to walk off whatever you dreamed about."

Each observation feels like being flayed open.

"I know you're careful," you continue, softer now. "I know you think you're dangerous. And I know you've probably got reasons for that. But Bucky? I also know you'd never hurt me. Ever."

"You can't know that."

"Why? Because you're what, too damaged? Too dangerous?" You step closer and he should step back but he's frozen. "You carry my groceries. You fixed my faucet. You danced with me at a wedding even though you hate dancing. Really dangerous stuff there, Barnes."

"You don't understand—"

"Then explain it to me." Your chin juts out, stubborn. "Give me one good reason why we can't—"

He kisses you.

It's the wrong thing to do. Selfish. Stupid. But you're standing there in your flour-dusted pajamas, looking at him like he's worth fighting for, and his self-control just...snaps.

The sound you make—soft, surprised, maybe relieved—shorts out every rational thought in his head. Your hands come up to frame his face, fingertips cool against his burning skin, and then you're kissing him back like you've been waiting for this, like you've been drowning too.

You taste like smoke and whatever you were baking, sweet with an edge of burn, and he's dizzy with it. His hands find your waist, fingers spreading wide against the soft cotton of your shirt, and he pulls you in until there's no space between you, until he can feel your heartbeat hammering against his chest. You're so warm, so alive, radiating heat like a small sun, and he wants to map every degree of it with his mouth, his hands, his—

Reality crashes back like ice water.

He jerks away, but his hands won't let go of your waist, like his body's in revolt against his better judgment. You're both breathing like you've run miles—harsh, ragged pulls of air that fill the space between you. Your lips are swollen, kiss-bruised, and he did that, he marked you, and the savage satisfaction of it wars with the knowledge that he's just made everything infinitely worse.

Your eyes are huge, pupils blown wide, and you're looking at him like he's just rearranged your entire understanding of the universe. One hand is still on his face, thumb pressed to the corner of his mouth like you're trying to hold the kiss there, keep it from escaping.

"That's why," he says roughly. "Because I want—because you make me want things I can't have."

"Says who?" Your eyes are very bright. "Who decided what you can have?"

He doesn't have an answer for that. Doesn't know how to explain the mathematics of survival, how everyone he's ever cared about becomes a liability, a target, a grave.

"I should go," he manages.

"Or," you say, "you could stay."

The offer hangs between you like a lit fuse. He can see the future unspool in both directions: leave now, go back to safe distances and polite nods in the hallway, watch you eventually move on with someone who doesn't come with a body count. Or stay, and risk you realizing what a mistake you're making. Stay, and selfishly take whatever you're willing to give for however long you're willing to give it.

You're still looking at him, patient and terrified and hopeful all at once.

He leaves.

The word echoes in his head all the way back to his apartment. Coward. Coward. Coward. But it's the right thing to do. The safe thing. You'll hurt for a while, maybe hate him a little, but you'll be alive to do it.

He doesn't sleep. Just sits on his couch, staring at the wall that separates your apartments, listening to the muffled sounds of you cleaning up. The shower runs at 2 AM. He knows you cry in the shower when you think no one can hear—learned that three weeks into being neighbors, when your freelance client stiffed you on a big project. He'd wanted to break the fucker's legs then.

Now he wants to break his own.

You're a better person than he'll ever be, which is why you still smile at him in the hallway.

It's careful now, contained. The kind of smile you'd give any neighbor, not the one that used to light up your whole face when you saw him. You don't knock anymore. Don't text about your smoke alarm or your leaky faucet or the rat you're convinced lives in the walls. You just...exist, parallel to him, in a way that makes his chest feel like it's full of broken glass.

"Fixed it myself," you say one morning when he catches you wrestling with a new deadbolt installation. Your drill slips, gouging the doorframe. "YouTube University, you know?"

He could fix it in under a minute. Could show you how to align the strike plate properly, how to test the throw. Instead: "Good for you."

Your smile flickers. "Yeah. Good for me."

Mrs. Nguyen gives him dirty looks now. The whole floor does, really. Like they know he's the reason you don't laugh as loud anymore, why your music's quieter, why you started getting grocery delivery instead of making three trips up the stairs, arms overloaded, dropping things and cursing cheerfully.

It's fine. It's working. You're safe.

He tells himself that every night when he hears you through the walls, moving around your apartment like a ghost of the person who used to dance while cooking.

Three weeks post-kiss, Valentina calls them in for a mission that's barely legal on a good day.

"Weapons shipment," she says, sliding photos across the conference table with her usual theatrical flair. "Enhanced tech, off-market, very much not supposed to exist. The kind of toys that make governments nervous."

"So we're stealing them," Walker states, not asks.

"Recovering," Val corrects with a smile sharp enough to cut. "For the safety of the American people, of course."

Yelena snorts. Alexei's already studying the compound layout like there'll be a test. Bob's doing that thing where he shrinks into himself, trying to become invisible. Bucky catalogs exits, counts guards in the surveillance photos, and tries not to think about how you looked last night, hauling groceries with your hair falling in your eyes.

The mission goes sideways in minute three.

"Intel was wrong," Ava's voice crackles through comms, too calm for the situation. "Triple the guards. And—"

The explosion cuts her off. Then another. The "barely defended warehouse" is a fucking fortress, crawling with military-grade security who definitely got the "shoot to kill" memo.

"Fall back," Bucky orders, but Alexei's already charged ahead, yelling something about Soviet glory. Walker's trying to flank, Bob's panicking, and somewhere in the chaos, Yelena starts laughing like this is the best thing that's happened all week.

It takes two hours to fight their way out. By the end, Bucky's left arm is sparking, his ears are ringing, and he's pretty sure at least three ribs are cracked. Yelena's favoring her right leg, Walker's bleeding from somewhere he won't admit, and Bob—Bob's dissociating so hard Bucky has to physically guide him to the extraction point.

"Well," Val says over comms, observing from her safe distance, "that was bracing."

Bucky doesn't trust himself to respond.

They limp back to New York in sullen silence. No debrief—Val's already spinning the disaster into something palatable for the brass. Bucky goes straight home, ignoring Sam's calls, ignoring everything except the need to get somewhere quiet before he starts breaking things.

His hands are still shaking when he reaches his floor. Adrenaline crash, probably. Or the delayed realization that they'd all nearly died for some bureaucrat's idea of asset recovery. Or—

Your door is open.

Not open-open. Cracked, like it didn't latch properly. Like someone left in a hurry. Or—

The deadbolt is broken.

The one you installed yourself three weeks ago. The one he'd watched you struggle with, pride keeping you from asking for help.

Bucky goes utterly still.

His body moves before his brain catches up. He's through your doorway, cataloging details with mechanical precision: lamp knocked over, books scattered, coffee table shoved sideways. Signs of a struggle. Signs of—

Blood.

Not much. Just droplets on the hardwood, leading toward the kitchen. But enough. Enough to make his vision tunnel, his chest compress until breathing becomes theoretical.

"Sweetheart?" The pet name slips out, raw. No answer. He clears each room like he's back in Hydra facilities, except his hands won't stop shaking because this is your space, your things, your—

Your phone is on the kitchen floor, screen cracked. There's a handprint on the wall—bloody, smeared. Too small to be anyone's but yours.

Something inside him breaks. Clean, sharp, like a bone snapping. The careful distance he's maintained, the walls he's built, the conviction that keeping you at arm's length would keep you safe—all of it crumbles in the face of your empty apartment and that small, bloody handprint.

He's already moving, phone out, calling in favors he's been hoarding. Because someone took you. Someone came into your home—the home he was supposed to be protecting by staying away—and took you. And they're going to learn exactly why the Winter Soldier's name still makes people flinch.

His phone rings. Unknown number.

"Barnes." He doesn't recognize his own voice.

"Ah, the infamous Winter Soldier." The voice is male, amused, completely at ease. "I was hoping we could talk."

"Where is she?"

"Safe. For now. Though that really depends on you, doesn't it?"

Ice spreads through his veins, familiar as an old friend. This is what he was trying to prevent. This exact scenario. You, hurt because of him. You, taken because someone figured out—

"What do you want?"

"You've been playing house, Barnes. Getting soft. Forgetting what you are." A pause, calculated. "I'm going to remind you. And your little neighbor? She's going to help."

The line goes dead.

Bucky stands in your ruined apartment, surrounded by the evidence of his failure, and feels something fundamental shift. Not break—he's been broken before. This is worse. This is the cold clarity that comes after, when there's nothing left to lose.

Someone made a mistake today. They touched you. They made you bleed.

He's going to paint the city red for it.

"Buck, slow down—"

"No." He's already moving, gathering gear with brutal efficiency. The weapons he's not supposed to have. The tech that's definitely illegal. Every favor, every resource, every skill Hydra beat into him over seventy years.

Sam's on speaker, trying to be the voice of reason. "You can't just go in guns blazing—"

"Watch me."

"This is exactly what they want. You, isolated, operating without backup—"

"They have her, Sam." The words come out raw, flayed. "They took her because of me. Because I was stupid enough to think distance would keep her safe."

Silence on the other end. Then: "What do you need?"

That's why Sam Wilson is Captain America. No more arguments, no more trying to talk him down. Just immediate, unwavering support.

"Intel. Cameras in my building, surrounding blocks. Last twelve hours." He straps a knife to his thigh, then another. "And get me backup."

"I can rally your team. Get Walker, Yelena—"

"No." The word comes out sharp. Another knife. Extra magazines. "The Thunderbolts are compromised. That clusterfuck of a mission proved it."

"Buck—"

"They're not ready for this. Half of them can barely work together without Val pulling the strings." He's checking his tactical vest, muscle memory taking over. "This isn't a government op. This is personal."

"So what, you're going in alone?"

Is he? Bucky stops, considers his options. The Thunderbolts are a mess on a good day—Walker's still trying to prove something, Bob's hanging on by a thread, and Alexei treats everything like a performance. They're not who he needs for this.

"They touched her," he says simply.

"I know, man. I know. But—"

"Get me what intel you can. I'll handle the rest."

"Buck, come on. At least let me—"

"They have her, Sam." His voice cracks, just slightly. "Every second we waste talking, they could be—"

"Okay. Okay. Intel coming your way. But Barnes? Don't do anything stupid."

"Too late for that."

Bucky stops in your doorway, looks back at your apartment. There's a photo on your bookshelf—you and him at the building's July 4th party. Mrs. Nguyen had insisted on taking it. You're laughing at something, leaning into him, and he's looking at you like—

Like you're everything he never thought he'd get to have.

"I'm coming for you," he tells the empty room. A promise. A threat. A prayer to whoever might be listening.

Then he disappears into the night, and the Winter Soldier goes hunting.

The trail goes cold in six hours.

Whoever took you, they're not amateurs playing at being dangerous. They're ghosts—professionals who know exactly how to disappear in a city of eight million people. Every camera angle's been scrubbed. Every witness suddenly develops amnesia. Even the blood in your apartment leads nowhere; cleaned of DNA markers by something that makes Bucky's teeth ache with familiarity.

"Talk to me, Buck." Sam's voice through the earpiece, carefully level. "Where are you?"

Bucky stands on a rooftop in Queens, staring at another dead end. Another empty warehouse that should have had something, anything. "Nowhere."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I've got." His metal hand clenches, servos whining. Below, the city keeps moving, oblivious to the fact that you're somewhere in it, hurt, taken because of him. "They're good, Sam. Too good."

"We'll find her."

We. Like this isn't Bucky's fault. Like his past isn't bleeding into your present, staining everything he tried so hard to keep clean.

He drops from the rooftop, lands hard enough to crack pavement. A passing couple startles, hurries away. Good. He doesn't feel particularly human right now anyway.

Hour twelve. Yelena finds him in your apartment, sitting on your couch like a grieving statue.

"This is pathetic," she says, stepping over the crime scene tape he'd ignored. "Even for you."

"Get out."

"No." She perches on your coffee table, uncharacteristically serious. "You think sitting here feeling sorry for yourself will find her? You think guilt helps?"

"I said—"

"I know what guilt looks like, Barnes." Her voice cuts, precise as the knives she carries. "I know what it is, failing someone you—" She pauses, searching for the English word. "Care about. But this?" She gestures at him, at the apartment, at the bloody handprint he can't stop staring at. "This is just... как это... self-pity? No, worse. Useless."

The laugh that tears out of him is ugly. "Thanks for the pep talk."

"Someone needs to knock sense into your thick skull." She leans forward. "Whoever has her, they want you like this. Emotional. Sloppy. Making mistakes."

"I know that."

"Then stop giving them what they want."

Easier said than done when every surface in this apartment carries your ghost. The mug on the counter with your lipstick stain. The book splayed open on the side table, marking your place. The sweater thrown over the chair—his sweater, actually, stolen three weeks ago when you'd claimed your apartment was freezing.

Easier said than done when every surface in this apartment carries your ghost. The mug on the counter with your lipstick stain. The book splayed open on the side table, marking your place. The sweater thrown over the chair—his sweater, actually, stolen three weeks ago when you'd claimed your apartment was freezing.

"Keep it," he'd said, trying not to notice how it made something primal in him satisfied, seeing you wrapped in his clothes.

"Just until I fix my radiator," you'd promised, but you'd worn it three more times that week, and he'd never asked for it back.

"Barnes." Yelena snaps her fingers in his face. "Сфокусируйся. Focus."

"I am focused."

"You're spiraling." She pulls out her phone, shows him surveillance footage he's already memorized. "Look again. Really look. Use your brain, not your bleeding heart."

He wants to tell her he's looked at nothing else for twelve hours. Instead, he watches you leave your apartment at 6:47 PM, mail in hand. Watches you come back at 6:53. The timestamp jumps—7:31 to 8:15, forty-four minutes missing. By 8:15, your door's ajar and you're gone.

"Professional crew doesn't need forty-four minutes for grab," Yelena says, her English getting rougher as she thinks. "So why take so long? What were they doing?"

Bucky's phone buzzes. Unknown number.

His blood turns to ice, then flame.

"You're going to want to watch this alone," the familiar voice says. "Though I'm sure your friend is lovely. Hi, Yelena."

She stiffens. Bucky's already moving, putting distance between them, some instinct screaming danger.

"Just me," he says. "Let her go."

"See, that's your problem, Barnes. Still trying to protect everyone. Still thinking you can control who gets hurt." A pause. "Check your messages."

The video file is already there. His hand shakes as he opens it.

You're in a concrete room—could be anywhere, everywhere, the kind of place that exists in every city's bones. Sitting in a metal chair, wrists zip-tied but not apparently hurt beyond the cut on your temple still sluggishly bleeding. You're still wearing his sweater.

"Say hello, sweetheart." The voice comes from behind the camera.

You look up, and the defiance in your eyes makes his chest seize. "Go fuck yourself."

The slap comes fast, snaps your head sideways. Bucky's phone creaks in his grip.

"Language." The camera shifts, focuses on your face. "Try again."

You spit blood, manage a smile that's all teeth. "Hi, Bucky. Nice weather we're having."

Another slap. Harder. Your lip splits.

"I told you he made you weak." The voice continues conversationally as you work your jaw, testing damage. "The Winter Soldier, reduced to playing house with some nobody. It's embarrassing, really."

"You talk a lot for someone hiding behind a camera," you mutter.

This time it's a fist. Your head rocks back, and when you look up again, your nose is bleeding. But you're still glaring, still unbroken, and Bucky loves you so fiercely in that moment it feels like drowning.

"Here's what's going to happen," the voice continues. "Every hour Barnes doesn't come alone to the address we'll send, things get worse for you. And before you get any ideas—" The camera pans to show three other men, armed, professional. "—we've planned for contingencies."

Back to you. Blood drips onto his sweater. You notice the camera returning, look directly into it. "Don't you fucking dare," you say, and despite everything—split lip, bloody nose, zip-tied to a chair—you mean it. "You hear me, Barnes? Don't you—"

The video cuts.

Bucky stands very still in your empty apartment, phone in pieces at his feet.

"That bad?" Yelena asks.

He can't speak. Can barely breathe around the rage threatening to tear him apart from the inside. Somewhere in the city, you're bleeding because of him. Hurt because he was selfish enough to let you close, stupid enough to think distance would be enough.

Another text. An address in Red Hook. Come alone or we start cutting.

"Is trap," Yelena says, dropping articles like she does when she's focused. "Obviously trap."

"I know."

"You can't just walk in there like idiot."

"I know."

"So what's plan?"

He looks at her, and whatever she sees in his face makes her step back. "I give them what they want."

"Barnes—"

"They want the Winter Soldier?" His voice sounds wrong, mechanical, like something dredged up from permafrost. "They've got him."

The address leads to a warehouse because of course it does. These people, whoever they are, lack imagination. Bucky counts heat signatures through thermal imaging—six outside, unknown inside. Doable, if he's what he used to be. If he's willing to be what he used to be.

"Don't you fucking dare."

Your voice echoes, but it's drowned out by older programming. By muscle memory that never quite faded, no matter how many therapy sessions or good days or shared dinners with someone who looked at him like he was worth saving.

"In position," Sam's voice, because fuck going alone. Fuck giving them what they want. "West entrance."

"Rooftop," from Yelena.

"Back door," Walker, surprisingly. "For the record, I think this is stupid."

"Noted," Bucky says, and walks through the front door.

The space is exactly what he expected. Concrete floors, exposed beams, the kind of place that swallows sound. They're waiting for him—five men in tactical gear, no identifying marks. Professional contractors, not ideologues. Which makes this personal.

"Dramatic entrance. I respect that." The voice from the phone materializes into a man in his forties, military bearing, forgettable face. He's standing next to a metal table laid out with tools that make Bucky's scars ache. "Though you were supposed to come alone."

"Yeah, well." Bucky spreads his hands, easy target. "I've never been good at following orders. Ask anyone."

"Funny." The man circles him, predator studying prey. "That's not what your files say. 'Perfect compliance.' That was the phrase, wasn't it?"

Old wounds, precisely targeted. These people have done their homework.

"Where is she?"

"Close. Alive. For now." The man stops in front of him. "You know, I studied you. The Winter Soldier. Hydra's perfect weapon. And then you just... stopped. Became this." He gestures dismissively. "James Barnes, failing congressman. Playing superhero. Pretending you're not what we made you."

"We?"

The man smiles. "Not Hydra, if that's what you're thinking. Hydra was sloppy. Cult-like. No vision beyond control." He pulls out a tablet, shows Bucky a logo—a chimera, three-headed. "Cerberus. We're more... refined. We deal in weapons, not world domination. And you, Barnes? You're a weapon pretending to be human."

"Cool speech." Bucky's cataloging angles, distances, how fast he'd have to move. "Must've practiced in the mirror."

The man's smile tightens. "Bring her out."

Two more men emerge from a side room, dragging you between them. You're conscious but barely, feet stumbling, head lolling. They drop you on the concrete, and you don't get up.

Everything in Bucky goes very, very quiet.

"So here's the deal," Cerberus continues. "You're going to work for us. Exclusive contract. Your particular skills in exchange for her life."

"No." Your voice, cracked but clear. You push yourself up on shaking arms, meet Bucky's eyes across the warehouse. "No deals. No trades."

"Sweetheart—"

"Don't you 'sweetheart' me." You manage to get to your knees, swaying. Blood's dried on your face, but your eyes are blazing. "You think I don't know what they're asking? You think I'd let you—" You have to stop, catch your breath. "I'd rather die than be the reason you become that again."

"How touching," Cerberus says. "But not your call." He nods to one of his men, who pulls out a knife. "Barnes? Your answer?"

The knife moves toward you.

The world explodes.

Flash-bangs through windows, smoke grenades, the distinctive whine of repulsor beams. Cerberus shouts orders, but it's too late—the Avengers don't do subtle when one of their own is threatened.

Bucky moves. Not the measured approach of a soldier, but the brutal efficiency of a weapon. The man with the knife goes down first, arm snapping under metal fingers. The second barely has time to scream. He's not thinking, just reacting, just removing threats between him and you.

Someone shoots him. Barely feels it. Someone else tries hand-to-hand, which is adorable. He puts them through a wall.

"Barnes!" Sam's voice, sharp. "Shield up!"

He spins, catches the thrown shield, uses it to deflect a spray of bullets meant for you. You're trying to crawl to cover, leaving bloody handprints on the concrete, and the sight shorts out whatever restraint he had left.

When the smoke clears, Cerberus is the only one left standing. Backed against the wall, gun trained on you because of course it is. These people are predictable to the last.

"Come any closer and—"

Yelena drops from the ceiling, lands on him like gravity given form. The gun goes flying. Cerberus goes down choking on his own blood, Yelena's knife finding the gap in his armor like it was designed for it.

"Predictable," she says, wiping the blade clean. "I told you they were predictable."

But Bucky's already moving, dropping to his knees beside you. You're conscious, breathing, alive. That's all that matters. Everything else—the mission, the cleanup, the questions—fades to white noise.

"Hey," he says, hands hovering over you, afraid to touch. Afraid to hurt. "I've got you."

"Took you long enough," you manage, then promptly pass out in his arms.

He catches you, holds you against his chest, and something in him breaks. Or maybe it finally, finally mends. Either way, he's done pretending distance keeps anyone safe. Done acting like he deserves to make choices about your safety without you.

"Med team's three minutes out," Sam says quietly.

Three minutes. He can hold you for three minutes. Can keep you safe for three minutes.

After that? After that, everything changes.

But for now, in the blood and smoke and aftermath, Bucky Barnes holds the person he was stupid enough to fall in love with and makes a promise:

Never again.

Never fucking again.

The medical bay at the Tower is too bright, too sterile, too full of people who keep looking at Bucky like he might snap. Maybe he will. He's been sitting in the same chair for four hours, watching machines monitor your breathing, and every beep feels like an accusation.

"You need to get that looked at," Sam says, nodding at the blood seeping through Bucky's shirt. Gunshot wound, probably. He honestly can't remember.

"I'm fine."

"You're bleeding on their fancy floors."

"I'm fine."

Sam exchanges a look with Yelena, who's been uncharacteristically quiet since they arrived. She's cleaned the blood off her hands but keeps flexing them, like she can still feel it.

"At least change your shirt," she says finally. "You look like extra from horror movie."

He doesn't move. Can't move. Because what if you wake up while he's gone? What if you open your eyes and he's not there, again, like he wasn't there when they took you?

"Barnes." Dr. Cho's voice cuts through his spiral. "She's stable. Three broken ribs, concussion, various contusions, but nothing life-threatening. She's lucky."

Lucky. The word tastes like copper in his mouth. Lucky is winning the lottery, not surviving a kidnapping because you had the misfortune of living next to him.

"When will she wake up?"

"Soon. The sedatives should wear off within the hour." She pauses, studying him with that look medical professionals get when they're about to say something pointed. "You, however, need treatment. You're actively bleeding on my floor."

"Sam already made that joke."

"It wasn't a joke." But she moves on, knowing a lost cause when she sees one. "I'll send a nurse with supplies. Try not to die before she wakes up. The paperwork would be tedious."

She leaves. Sam leaves. Even Yelena eventually wanders off, muttering something about vodka and terrible life choices. And then it's just Bucky and you and the steady beep of machines he'd tear apart if they stopped working.

Your hand is smaller than his. He knows this—has known it since the first time you grabbed his wrist to drag him to see some neighbor's new puppy—but it feels more pronounced now. More fragile. Your knuckles are split from fighting back, and there's still blood under your nails. His blood? Theirs? He doesn't know, and the not knowing makes him want to put his fist through the wall.

"You're spiraling again."

Your voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper, but it might as well be a gunshot for how hard it hits. His head snaps up to find you watching him, eyes half-open but alert.

"You're awake."

"Mmm. Kind of wish I wasn't." You try to sit up, wince, immediately abort that mission. "Fuck. Did anyone get the number of the truck that hit me?"

"Don't—" He's hovering, hands fluttering uselessly, afraid to touch you. "You shouldn't move. Dr. Cho said—"

"Dr. Cho can kiss my ass," you mutter, but you stop trying to sit up. Your eyes track over him, cataloging damage. "You're bleeding."

"It's nothing."

"It's literally dripping on the floor, Barnes."

"It's fine."

You stare at each other. Four hours of practiced speeches evaporate in the face of your actual consciousness, leaving him with nothing but the memory of your blood on concrete and the sound you made when they hit you.

"So," you say finally, voice carefully neutral. "Cerberus. That was fun."

"Don't."

"Don't what? Make jokes about my kidnapping? Process trauma through humor? Acknowledge that you're sitting there bleeding because you decided to Rambo your way through—"

"You could have died." It comes out louder than intended, raw. "You almost died because of me."

Something shifts in your expression. "Bucky—"

"No." He's standing now, needing distance, needing space between him and the way you're looking at him. "You don't get to—to act like this is fine. Like this is some funny story you'll tell at parties. They took you because of me. They hurt you because of me."

"They took me because they're assholes who thought they could use me as leverage." You're struggling to sit up again, ignoring whatever pain it causes. "That's on them, not you."

"You're only leverage because I was selfish enough to—" He stops, runs his hand through his hair. "I knew better. I knew what would happen if I let someone close, and I did it anyway."

"Let me get this straight." Your voice is gaining strength, and with it, heat. "You think you 'let' me get close? Like I didn't have any say in it? Like I didn't practically force-feed you cookies until you acknowledged my existence?"

"That's not—"

"And what, you think keeping me at arm's length would've magically made me safer? News flash, Barnes: I live in that building because it's what I can afford. That makes me a target for regular criminals on a good day. At least with you around, I had someone who actually gave a shit if I made it home."

"Don't." The word cracks. "Don't act like I was protecting you. I'm the reason you were bleeding. I'm the reason they—"

"You're the reason I'm alive!" You swing your legs over the side of the bed, bare feet hitting the floor with determination that makes his chest tight. "You think they took me because they wanted leverage? They took me because they were cleaning house. Because they knew you'd gotten soft, gotten close to someone, and that made you unpredictable."

You stand, sway, catch yourself on the bed rail. He moves forward instinctively, and you hold up a hand.

"No. You don't get to touch me right now. Not when you're about to do something stupid and noble and self-sacrificing." You take a step, then another, closing the distance between you despite your own warning. "They were going to kill me either way, Barnes. Whether you came for me or not. The only difference is that you did come, and now I'm alive to be really fucking pissed at you."

"You don't understand—"

"I understand perfectly." You're close enough now that he can see the bruises forming on your throat, the way you're holding your ribs, the tears you're refusing to shed. "You think you're poison. You think everyone you touch gets hurt. You think the best thing you can do is be alone forever because that's what you deserve."

"Stop."

"No. Because here's the thing, James Buchanan Barnes—you don't get to make that choice for me." Your voice breaks, just a little. "You don't get to decide I'm better off without you. You don't get to kiss me in my kitchen and then run away like a coward. And you sure as hell don't get to sit there bleeding and act like it's some kind of penance."

The medical bay feels too small suddenly, like all the air's been sucked out. You're looking at him with eyes that see too much, that refuse to let him hide behind the careful walls he's rebuilt in the last three weeks.

"They hurt you," he says, quieter now. Lost.

"Yeah. They did." You reach up, slowly, telegraphing the movement. Your hand cups his face, thumb brushing over the bruise on his cheekbone. "And it wasn't your fault."

"How can you say that?"

"Because blaming you for what they did is like blaming a bank for getting robbed." Your other hand comes up, framing his face, forcing him to meet your eyes. "You're not responsible for other people's evil, Bucky. You're only responsible for what you do about it."

"I should have protected you better."

"You literally threw yourself between me and automatic gunfire."

"I should have never let them take you in the first place."

"Oh, so you're psychic now? Can predict the future?" Your laugh is watery. "Add that to the resume. Congressman, ex-assassin, part-time fortune teller."

"This isn't funny."

"It's a little funny." But your smile fades, replaced by something fiercer. "You want to know what's not funny? Spending three weeks watching you shut me out. Sitting in that chair, knowing you were hurting, and not being able to do anything because you decided I was better off without you."

"You are—"

"Finish that sentence and I swear to god, Barnes, concussion or not, I will punch you in your stupid, self-loathing face."

He almost smiles. Almost. "You could barely stand five seconds ago."

"Adrenaline's a hell of a drug." But you're swaying again, and this time when he reaches for you, you don't stop him. His arms come around you carefully, mindful of injuries, and you lean into him like you've been waiting for permission. "I'm so fucking mad at you."

"I know."

"Like, incandescently furious."

"I know."

"You don't get to leave again." It comes out muffled against his chest, but he hears the steel underneath. "I don't care if the entire population of supervillains decides I'm their new favorite target. You don't get to leave."

His arms tighten fractionally. "Sweetheart—"

"No." You pull back enough to glare at him, and even bruised and exhausted, you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. "No 'sweetheart.' No soft voice and sad eyes. You're either in this with me or you're out, but you don't get to half-ass it anymore. You don't get to knock on my door at 2 AM because you had a nightmare and then pretend we're just neighbors. You don't get to dance with me at weddings and then act like it meant nothing. You don't get to—"

He kisses you.

There's no grace in it—just collision, pure physics as his mouth finds yours with the same brutal efficiency he'd use to take down a target. Except this isn't violence, it's something worse. It's capitulation. It's three weeks of want compressed into the space between one heartbeat and the next.

The noise that escapes you—half gasp, half sob—unlocks something feral in his chest. Then your teeth catch his lower lip, sharp and unforgiving, and his vision whites out entirely. You kiss like you fight: dirty, determined, taking no prisoners. Your tongue slides against his and his knees actually buckle, what the fuck, he's faced down alien armies without flinching but you're going to be what finally kills him.

His hands fly to your face, metal and flesh cradling your jaw like you're something precious even as he devours your mouth like you're anything but. You're pressed so tight against him he can feel every hitch in your breathing, every shudder that runs through you when he angles his head and deepens the kiss into something filthier, something that has you making these broken little sounds that he wants to bottle and keep.

The medical bed hits the back of your thighs—when did he walk you backward?—and you use the leverage to pull him down, down, until he's curved over you like a question mark, like gravity itself has reorganized around the heat of your mouth.

When you finally break apart, it's only because biology demands it. You're both wrecked—breathing like you've run marathons, lips swollen and spit-slick, staring at each other like you're not quite sure what just happened.

Your pupils are blown so wide he can barely see the color of your irises. There's a flush spreading down your throat, disappearing beneath the hospital gown, and he has to physically stop himself from following it with his mouth. His hands are trembling where they frame your face, thumbs pressed to your cheekbones like he's checking you're real.

"That's not an answer," you manage, but your voice is thoroughly fucked, and your hands are still twisted in his vest like you'll shoot him if he tries to move away.

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's really not. It's a deflection. A really nice deflection, but—"

"I'm in." The words feel like jumping off a cliff. Like defusing a bomb. Like coming home. "I'm in. Whatever that means, whatever that looks like. I'm in."

You study him for a long moment, and he tries not to fidget under the scrutiny. Finally: "You're going to therapy."

"I'm already in therapy."

"You're going to actually talk in therapy instead of just staring at the wall and hoping Dr. Raynor gets bored."

"...fine."

"And you're going to let me have a say in my own safety. No more unilateral decisions about what's 'best' for me."

"Okay."

"And you're going to teach me self-defense. Real self-defense, not just how to throw a punch."

"Deal."

"And—" You sway again, this time more dramatically. "Oh. Okay. Maybe sitting down now."

He guides you back to the bed, hands steady even if nothing else is. You let him fuss, let him adjust pillows and pull up blankets, and he tries not to think about how easily you fit into his hands. How right this feels, even with blood on his shirt and bruises on your skin.

"For the record," you say as he settles back into the chair beside your bed, "I'm still mad."

"I know."

"Like, really mad. There's going to be yelling. Possibly throwing things."

"I can take it."

"And groveling. Lots of groveling. I'm talking flowers, chocolates, the works."

"Noted."

You reach for his hand, lace your fingers through his. "And you're going to tell me you love me."

He freezes. You squeeze his hand.

"Because I know you do. I've known since you reorganized my bookshelf by genre and then pretended you didn't. And I love you too, you absolute disaster of a man, but I need to hear you say it. When I'm not concussed and you're not bleeding. When we're both safe and no one's trying to kill us and we can actually have a real conversation about what this means."

His throat feels tight. "I can do that."

"Good." You close your eyes, exhaustion finally winning. "Now get your gunshot wound treated before you bleed out on my watch. I'm not explaining that to Sam."

"It's not that bad."

"Bucky."

"Fine."

But he doesn't move. Not yet. Instead, he sits there holding your hand, memorizing the way your fingers fit between his, the steady rise and fall of your chest, the fact that you're alive and here and somehow, impossibly, still want him around.

The sun's coming up by the time a nurse finally corners him, threatening sedation if he doesn't let her treat the gunshot wound. You're properly asleep by then, fingers still tangled with his, and he lets the nurse work around your grip rather than let go.

"She's tough," the nurse comments, applying what are probably too many bandages.

"Yeah."

"And stubborn."

"Definitely."

"Good." She pats his shoulder, maternal despite being half his age. "You're going to need it."

He doesn't ask what she means. Doesn't need to. Because you're right—he's a disaster. A work in progress on his best days, a barely controlled catastrophe on his worst. But you looked at all that and decided he was worth fighting for anyway.

The least he can do is try to prove you right.

When you wake up again, he's there. When Dr. Cho kicks him out so you can rest, he goes to therapy and actually talks. When Sam asks if you're together now, he says yes without qualifying it.

And when you're finally released, when you're back in your apartment with its new locks and its carefully cleaned floors, when you knock on his door at midnight because the nightmares found you too—he opens it. No hesitation. No distance.

"Hey, neighbor," you say, and the smile you give him is worth every risk, every fear, every moment of doubt.

"Hey yourself."

You step inside, and he closes the door behind you, and for the first time in longer than he can remember, Bucky Barnes stops running from the possibility of happiness.

It's terrifying.

It's everything.

It's enough.

[wintrbears]

Cradle Robbers: The Third Trimester | JJK

Summary: Everything feels different after having the worst scare of your life, but your baby's due date is fast approaching and there's still plenty more important things to do than rifle through your ever-growing feelings for Jungkook. He certainly doesn't make it easy on you when he's constantly sweeping you off your feet.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Pregnancy AU, Childhood Friends to FWB to Lovers, Slow-Burn, Smut, Fluff, Crack, Angst (barely, you have to squint to see it)

Word Count: 24.9k+

Warnings: pregnancy, childbirth, water breaking, talks of bodily fluids, blood, blood transfusion, mentions of dizziness, anxiety, surprises, gifts, alcohol, thunderstorms, hospitals, doctors, nurses, scrubs, wheelchairs, crying, screaming, extreme physical pain, airplanes. SMUT: kissing, cuddling, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, big dick jk!!!, oral sex (m receiving), doggy, dick riding, titty play, lactation kink, making out in the shower, cream pie, grinding, hair pulling, choking, manhandling, ok I think that might be it!

Author's Note: I actually cannot believe the final chapter is here. the amount of love I've received from this story is so overwhelming and it makes me unbelievably happy that you guys love these two as much as I do. here's to an epic conclusion for our couple and their beautiful baby! if you’ve given birth and see any inaccuracies pls just look the other way lol. also, to the anon that asked me about a lactation kink and I said no... I promise I'm not a liar you just inspired me to add one. thank you all so much for all the support. enjoy, my lovely readers :)

-> Cradle Robbers Masterpost

SEVEN

You sincerely hope your fellow grocery shoppers don’t see you with six bottles of wine balancing on your baby bump and think you’re a monster. It obviously isn’t for you, but stranger things have happened and you have no control over what these people may think of you. 

The sole reason you’re purchasing copious amounts of alcohol is because it’s wine night, and tonight is the inaugural gathering at your house. The girls are all unbelievably excited to see the illustrious home, including the partially decorated nursery they’ve only seen via video call.

It’s since been painted a neutral beige color with an adorable cat and dog mural on the wall behind the crib. More artwork occupies the remaining walls, including a set of picture frames containing photos of you and Jungkook from childhood until now. The furniture’s all been built at this point, although some of it still needs to be placed and secured to the wall. The ample supply of stuffed animals provided by none other than your baby’s father reside in a hammock above the rocking chair. 

Jungkook will be at Namjoon’s tonight along with the other guys so you can have the place to yourselves, which you’re grateful for since it wouldn’t be very conducive to conversation if a central topic of your gossip is present. He certainly doesn’t need his ego stroked by you enthusiastically retelling the girls about all your wild sexual encounters. 

Visually taking stock of your haul, which mostly consists of junk food and wine, you mentally run through your shopping list one last time before heading to the checkout. The employee scanning your items looks surprised when she glances between your belly and the wine collection, but thankfully doesn’t comment on the questionable items. She informs you of the total and you tap Jungkook’s black card against the machine. Once you hear the familiar chime, you thank the woman and steer your cart towards the parking lot.

A recent development of your pregnancy is that you began your third and final trimester by quitting your job, hence why you’re paying for groceries with Jungkook’s card and not your own.

It’s been on the table for a while now, with you and Jungkook discussing it here and there over the last couple months. After crunching the numbers, the two of you mutually agreed it’s for the best. Since your salary is astronomically smaller than Jungkook’s, you would lose more money paying for childcare than by removing your salary from the equation altogether. 

Being a stay-at-home mom was never the plan, even when you were younger, but now that you’re pregnant, the idea is more appealing than ever. Not only do you want to be present for all the special moments of their childhood, but Jungkook is loaded and there’s no reason to pay for a nanny or daycare when he can care for you financially while you take care of things at home. 

Truthfully, it’s been difficult depending on him, not because he makes it so, but because you still feel guilty using his money. Your last paycheck was about two weeks ago, so you’re exclusively using his funds and the first time you tapped his card against the machine you nearly bit your lip off. On the flip side, Jungkook’s been profusely scolding you for refusing to go on a huge spending spree with his no limit credit card. 

He’s been continuously sending you links to buy expensive jewelry, clothes, and handbags, and threatens to buy them for you himself if you don’t run his bank account dry soon. It’s the first time in his life you’ve given him the go ahead to support you in that way and he’s adamant about you taking advantage of the opportunity. 

Ironically, the only thing you’ve bought other than essentials is a gift for him. 

Last week his gaming headset snapped in half when Bam decided they were a perfect seat. Jungkook was rightfully distraught and refused to look his beloved pet in the eye for the remainder of the evening. Determined to mend their relationship, you went out the following morning to buy him the latest and greatest. 

When you presented him the gift, Jungkook lifted you so far above his head in excitement you feared hitting the ceiling. Despite his own bank account decreasing, the thoughtfulness of your act sent him over the moon with joy. He attacked you with kisses once your feet met the ground again, and you had to pry him off you before your lips turned purple. 

Independence is a key character trait of yours, so this new lifestyle is definitely an adjustment, but it would be a lie to say it doesn’t feel just a little bit nice using a card that doesn’t have your own name on it. 

During your drive home, the contact image of Jungkook positively cheesing next to your most recent ultrasound photo appears on the dashboard screen. Your heart does an involuntary flip at the sight, and you press the green answer button just as the car turns down your street.

“Hey, baby.”

Despite his usage of a pet name, Jungkook sounds exasperated, and maybe slightly annoyed, when the phone connects.

“Koo? Is everything alright?”

“No, Bams,” he admits begrudgingly. “There’s a leak under the kitchen faucet. It’s pretty bad. I don’t think we can have the girls over tonight, but I already called the Blue Lagoon Lounge and booked a room for you guys. The drinks and food are all paid for already. So, text the girls to let them know and have fun, okay?”

“What? Jungkook, are you sure? If the leak isn’t going to take more than a couple hours I can just tell the girls to come later.”

“No, no,” Jungkook says. “Just go enjoy yourself and I’ll take care of this. I don’t want your night to be cut short at all. The reservation is under Jeon.”

“Alright,” you mumble. “Love you, talk to you soon.”

“Love you more, Bambi, I’ll see you soon.”

You voice-to-text your group chat to reiterate the news and your friends are downright ecstatic about having access to unlimited free food and drinks. 

In fact, the last text to ping your phone from Tzuyu reads: “thank you so fucking much for getting knocked up by a sexy millionaire. I owe you my life.” The three other members of the chat heart react the message. 

When you arrive at the restaurant, you look down and mentally congratulate yourself on already being dressed in your attire for the evening. It’s unusually warm for this time of year, so you’re in a floral tea-length dress with your hair up. Your friend group doesn’t normally get dolled up for these occasions, but Mina is finally ready to reacclimate herself to the dating scene and suggested a mini photoshoot for your choice of entertainment tonight. 

The Blue Lagoon Lounge is massive, with a full dining room, smaller private suites, and large banquet halls in the back. Upon telling the hostess the name, she leads you through a couple of winding hallways and rooms. She gestures towards a pair of double doors once you reach your destination and you gaze at her inquisitively, wondering if she got the room right. Sensing your confusion, she nods to reaffirm her guidance and steps aside so you can enter. 

The moment your feet cross the threshold, the eruption of sound from inside the room makes you jump in shock.

“SURPRISE!” 

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as your jaw falls open.

All of your friends and family are scattered around the large room which overlooks the river on the edge of your city. The multitude of round tables which occupy the space are decorated beautifully with white, purple, and yellow flowers along with gorgeous fine china place settings. There’s a liberal sized bar along the back wall and an even bigger buffet table in the corner closest to you.  

When your surveying eyes land on Jungkook, who's standing with your friends beside the grand, floor length windows, he smirks and wiggles his phone in accomplishment. 

“You little liar!” 

“I did good, right?”

“Yes, which is concerning because you’re a terrible liar,” you say while approaching them.

“Oh, don’t worry, he needed plenty of coaching,” Mina states.

“We went over the script four times,” Nayeon mentions.

“And my hands still shook!” Jungkook responds before holding his hand up to show you it twitching. 

You clasp the appendage between your own and kiss his knuckles, pulling him into you for a tight embrace. He laughs heartily as his arms latch around you, tugging you up against him until your heels lift from the floor. His hand holds the nape of your neck while you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper to him. “This is amazing.”

“I didn’t do anything besides pay for it, Bambi. Your friends did all this,” he tells you. 

“Uh, see, now he’s getting a little too good at lying,” Tzuyu says from behind you. “It was his idea, Y/N.”

You reluctantly depart from his warmth, but lace your fingers together while you stand side by side.

“No,” Jungkook shakes his head modestly. “I mentioned it once in passing and you guys took it from there.”

“So humble, JK,” Jihyo clicks her tongue disapprovingly. 

Hugging the girls one by one, you thank them for sacrificing a wine night for your surprise baby shower before moving throughout the room to greet everyone else who came to celebrate you.

Jungkook follows closely behind with a hand on your lower back, thanking everyone for coming with an adorable bow of his head. He does it so much that at one point you place your hand beneath his chin to stop him so he doesn’t get a headache. 

Your parents are last, but of course not least, and you don’t miss the way your moms make eye contact with matching cheshire grins when they notice where Jungkook’s hand resides. 

The six of you exchange hugs and your mom holds your hands afterwards, excitedly shaking them in the air. 

“Oh sweetie, weren’t you so surprised?” She asks.

“Yes! It was the last thing I was expecting, but I’m so grateful everyone came,” you answer her.

“You’re glowing, sweetpea,” your dad comments.

Once the greetings are complete, everyone moseys around grabbing drinks and placing their gifts on the long table at the front of the room. You join Jungkook at the bar to grab his drink, which he thrice pretends to hand you before pulling it back with an annoyingly cute giggle. Rolling your eyes, you take his hand and lead him to the little sweetheart table at the very center of the wall of windows which faces the rest of the room.

Before tables are dismissed one by one to grab food from the buffet, Jihyo stands and clinks a fork against her glass to garner everyone’s attention. 

“Hi everyone, for those who don’t know me, I’m Jihyo. I want to say a little something before we eat and celebrate the amazing woman sitting at the front of the room.” She beckons towards you with her hands and the sound of everyone’s cheers turns your face bright red. “Y/N is the most loving, caring, wonderful soul I’ve ever known and although it wasn’t planned,” she purposely whispers the last word, sending a wave of laughter across the room. “I am absolutely certain she’ll be the most amazing mother the world has ever known. I love you so much, babe, and I can’t wait to meet your little one.” 

She raises her glass for a toast, and you parrot the act with your virgin mimosa. 

“I believe the little one’s daddy also has something he’d like to say?”

Jungkook’s eyes go wide, his hand pointing to his chest in surprise, clearly not expecting the spotlight. Jihyo nods encouragingly and shoots him a double thumbs up as she takes her seat. Always one for a challenge, Jungkook cracks his neck, clicks his tongue, and clears his throat before standing with his drink in hand. 

“Hello,” Jungkook says quietly while fidgeting with his shirt collar. “I’m fairly certain everyone here knows me, since you can’t really know Bambi without knowing me, too.” He taps his fingers against his glass as he ponders his next move. “I, um…” You squeeze his hand where it rests on his thigh and a smile creeps onto his face, his eyes briefly catching your supportive gaze. “Jihyo’s right, this wasn’t planned, not even a little bit, but it was without a doubt the best surprise of my life.” 

Jungkook’s ears go red to match the blush painting his cheeks. 

“I’m so incredibly thankful to call her my best friend and the mother of my child. I know I’ll never be able to repay her for everything she’s going through to bring our little one into the world. Her body and mind have been through hell and I’ve spent my entire life chasing away whatever may bring her pain and sorrow, so it’s been really challenging to feel so helpless. But she handles everything so beautifully, with so much grace and understanding, and I grow more in awe of her with every passing day.” 

He takes a deep breath and faces you with his glass held high. 

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, Bams, and there’s nothing you deserve more than to be celebrated for everything you do and will do in the future as a mother. I love you more than words can describe, Y/N.”

You gasp, your hands slapping against your mouth as tears immediately threaten your waterline. It’s been nearly two decades since the last time you heard the sound of your name rolling off his tongue, and you don’t think the syllables have ever sounded so beautiful. 

Jungkook smiles devilishly at the exact reaction he was hoping to pull from you. 

Your head falls forward as you cry into your palms, the kindhearted words from both him and Jihyo making your heart clench from all the love it’s receiving. Jungkook returns to his seat to console you, letting you cry on his shoulder instead. 

“You said my name,” you whimper.

The sound of his low chuckle meets your ears.

“Don’t get used to it, Bambi.”

He places multiple kisses between the strands of your hair and wipes the remaining tears away after you raise your head. If you weren’t currently surrounded by loved ones, you’d kiss him senseless and probably drop to your knees if you’re being totally honest.

When you glance around the room after falling back into your chair with a sigh, you notice your mom dabbing her waterline with a tissue while his mom reapplies the makeup under her eyes. You giggle and nudge Jungkook to show him, and he joins in your adoration of the two women with a loving shake of his head. 

Following dinner, your four friends run a series of typical baby shower games, some of which are guessing games while others require basic baby knowledge. 

You barely partake in the festivities yourself, too busy goofing off with Jungkook as he writes the most incorrect answers imaginable. The two of you laugh hysterically through every question as if you’re the only ones present, despite being the sole reason for the celebration.

An executive decision is made to open gifts at home rather than have everyone watch you ooh and aww at baby trinkets for an hour. It’s far more appealing to you to walk around and mingle with your loved ones, which is precisely what you do after dessert. 

“It’s the woman of the hour!” Yunjin cheers as you place yourself on Chaewon’s lap and rest your head on her shoulder.

“Thank you guys so much for coming,” you tell them.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Hoseok states.

“We’re so happy for you, Y/N, and we’re so excited to be aunts and uncles,” Namjoon says.

“Also, are you and Jungkook like… a thing, because eyes don’t lie and that man is googoo gaga for you,” Eunchae asks. 

“And it’s not like you’re any better,” Yoongi adds.

You nibble on your lip as your eyes peruse the room and land on Jungkook’s silhouette standing beside your dads. 

“No, at least, not officially, but something’s definitely changed recently,” you answer honestly.

“How so?” Jin asks.

“You guys know how we went through that awful miscarriage scare last month?” They all nod. “Well, ever since then it feels like the energy’s shifted. Neither of us have said anything, but I know we both feel it. I mean, I’ve slept in his bed every night since, we constantly kiss outside of sexual activities, and we’ve started casually calling each other baby.”

“Oh, so you guys are like, in love love,” Jimin states.

“I don’t know,” you respond. “He’s always taken up nearly my entire heart, but I’m still figuring out if he’s finally got a monopoly on it or not.”

“Y/N, honey, you said so yourself you’ve never been happier,” Chaewon notes. “Don’t overthink it.”

You flash her a grateful smile as a thank you for her advice before telling them you’ll see them later and going to converse with your other guests.  

At one point, you realize you haven’t seen Taehyung or Mina in a while and do a once over of the room. When you spot them cuddled up in the back corner giggling to each other, you smirk. They hooked up once a few years ago before Mina started dating Mingyu, and you would be more than happy to see them rekindle their affair.

You catch Jungkook’s attention from across the room and point to them as nonchalantly as possible. When his eyes land on them, they light up and he makes a proud OK sign with his hand. 

Some people stay for a while and others wish you good luck with the delivery before sunset, but by the time Jungkook is done loading all the presents in your dad’s truck, only your parents remain.  

“Oh, shit, I don’t have a car,” Jungkook states when he returns for a final sweep of the room. “I drove over here with Tzuyu.”

It wouldn’t normally be an issue since you and him could drive home together, but for storage purposes your parents are taking the gifts home and he has to follow behind your dad to help bring them inside. 

“Just take my car and I’ll go with my mom,” you suggest.

Everyone exchanges goodbyes and you tell Jungkook you’ll see him later at home. He bends down to kiss your cheek after you hug him, and it forces you to hide a radiant blush crawling up your face and neck.

It’s familiar being in the passenger seat of your mom’s car, although it's been a while. She drives through the city towards your house with the radio on low, but you can already tell she’s itching to speak.

“Sweetie, you know you can tell me anything, right?” Sensing where this is going, you inhale exasperatedly. “No, don’t give me excuses. I know you’ve been keeping things from me because you don’t want me to get my hopes up.”

You sit back in your seat, your arms crossing over each other. 

“It’s just not any of your business, Mom,” you tell her.

“I don’t need to know everything, especially that stuff, but I can tell you have a lot on your mind. And I know something is going on. I see the way you look at him and how he looks at you. It’s not the same as it was before.” She squeezes your thigh lovingly. “Just talk to me, sweetheart.”

“There… there isn’t much to say.” She sends a disapproving glance in your direction. “Okay, yeah, maybe things have changed, but I don’t know in what way yet. I think we’re both happy with the way things are and don’t feel a need to label it or discuss it. Maybe once the baby’s born, we will.”

“Are you alright with that? You usually tell Jungkook everything the very moment it enters your mind.”

“It’s different this time. I’m not afraid to tell him or worry I’ll get rejected, but it just feels like we’re in this perfect bubble of joy and love and I don’t want to pop it.”

“What if it doesn’t pop, though? What if it makes the bubble even stronger?”

You toss her words around in your mind, nodding your head as your brain parses through the information.

“That would be nice.”

“I’m not trying to pressure you, sweetie, and I don’t want you to ever take my feelings into account when yours are the only ones that matter, but I want all the happiness in the world for you and that boy is heaven sent.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a smile. “He is. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“That would be me,” she proudly reminds you. 

You laugh with your head thrown back. And to think, the only reason you’re all here today is because their university randomly assigned them to be roommates. 

She drops you off at home with a hug and kiss on your cheek. Once inside, you hear Usagi meowing in annoyance at someone and when you round the corner, you see Jungkook rolling her back and forth on the couch as though she’s a furry rolling pin. He merely giggles at her indignation and attacks her little head with kisses. 

“Leave my daughter alone, will you?”

“Hey, she’s my daughter, too,” Jungkook retorts with a pout. When he turns over his shoulder to see you, the pout’s long gone and been replaced by a peaceful smile. “Did you have fun tonight, Bambi?”

He stands to full height and slides his hands into his pockets, still dressed in his attire from the evening sans the sport coat. His poor dress shirt is barely holding on by a thread where it lays across his chest, the buttons holding on for dear life to fit over the contours of his pecs. The slacks he’s wearing aren’t doing much better, with the black fabric stretched tight to accommodate the muscular thighs beneath. It makes both your mouth and pussy water.

“Of course, I did! I can’t thank you enough, Koo,” you say while meeting him by the couch. 

“There’s no need to thank me, baby. You deserve it.”

“Well, I can think of something that you deserve in return,” you propose using the sultry eyes you know he melts for everytime. 

His eyebrows twitch upwards, an anticipatory smile growing as he holds your gaze. Instead of waiting for a reply, your hand shoves at his shoulder to send him tumbling backwards into the couch. Knees automatically spreading wide open for you, you use your leverage on his thighs to kneel before him.

“Bams, you don’t have to,” he tells you, but his hand is already in your hair as you unbuckle his belt. 

“I want to.” You bend down to kiss him over his boxers once his pants are in a puddle around his ankles. “I want to so fucking bad, baby.”

Jungkook moans when your tongue presses down on the fabric and causes his dick to twitch. You quickly pull the garment down his legs and let it fall atop his slacks. He’s already sporting a semi that makes your thighs clench, the sight of his thick cock slowly becoming one of your favorites. 

Pumping him with your hand, you kiss and bite his thick thighs until he’s rock hard and leaking precum down your palm. You lick over his slit with a hungry moan and Jungkook throws his head back against the couch in response. 

“Oh, babygirl, that feels so fucking good.”

His hand becomes a ponytail, pulling all the strands away from your face so you can work unhindered and he has a clear view of you sucking him off. 

Your lips leisurely wrap around his head while you stare into his steadily darkening eyes. When you use suction and torturously swirl your tongue beneath the ridge separating the head from his shaft, Jungkook’s hips buck up involuntarily and you have to hold him still by his thighs. Slowly, all without ever looking away, you sink lower and lower until you’re gagging around him because he’s scratching the back of your throat. 

Jungkook cries out in pleasure, his free hand grasping desperately onto one of yours to give him something to hold onto. 

Swallowing a couple times while he’s buried deep in your throat, you allow a teasingly long moment to pass before finally sticking your tongue out and bobbing your head along his cock. He groans deliriously and his thighs shake as you sloppily work your mouth over him, doing so because you know exactly how much he loves to see the drool spilling from your lips. 

“Good girl, that’s my good fucking girl,” Jungkook praises nonsensically. “Mouth was fucking made for me.”

When you moan around him in agreement, your spit meets his balls below and you use it as an excuse to play with them in your free hand. Jungkook’s jaw clenches and the hand holding yours harshly squishes your digits together. You change gears upon the realization of how worked up the action makes him, sucking one of his balls into your mouth and replacing your tight throat with your hand.

“Oh, Jesus, Bams,” he shouts as you suckle the sensitive skin. 

After languidly curling your tongue around him for a moment, you switch and repeat the treatment for the other one, mirroring the pace of your hand to match the way your tongue works his sack. Returning to the main event, you flatten your tongue along the underside of his shaft until reaching the tip and spitting on him so you can bring him between your lips again.

Unfortunately, you’re only able to take him into your warm throat a few more times before he’s pulling you away by your hair.

You pout and place your hands on your hips.

“Koo, I wanna swallow your cum.”

“Nuh uh, I’m gonna put another fucking baby in you,” he states, his eyes completely overtaken by lust.

Jungkook manhandles you like a ragdoll until you’re face down ass up on the couch with him situated behind you. His hands grab the bottom hem of your dress and flip it upwards to reveal your underwear, which you only realize he rips off of you when you hear the sound of the fabric tearing.

“Koo!”

“Don’t complain when you know I can buy you a thousand more.” His fingers immediately find your pussy to check if you’re wet enough, and when you hear the pleased chuckle from behind you, you know he’s got his answer. “You got this wet just from sucking me off, baby?” 

You nod your head and Jungkook smacks your ass hard enough to leave a mark. 

“Yes!” Jungkook hums in satisfaction and you whine when he soothes the burn with his palm. “Jungkook, baby, please fuck me.”

You compliment your begging by wiggling your ass, and Jungkook moans appreciatively at the sight, his fingers grasping your flesh possessively. He slowly runs his dick along your sopping wet folds and you automatically keen and whimper for more. His movements continue that way for a tauntingly long amount of time, teasing you with just enough to keep you from going crazy. The only relief you’re given is when his tip brushes against your sensitive nub and provides you with delicious friction. 

An angrier version of your prior instruction is about to leave your mouth when Jungkook brutally spears you on his cock. In one single stroke he’s entirely sheathed within your walls and you scream out in ecstasy while your head falls forward. His pace can only be described as goddamn insane, or maybe those are just the only words you can think of when the huge dick ramming into your pussy is making your brain blank.

From behind Jungkook’s tip kisses your cervix with every thrust and you moan without restraint as he monstrously fucks your cunt open. His hand returns to your hair, the other one clutching the back of the couch so he can keep a steady rhythm. You feel his wet balls slapping your clit with every stroke and it makes you bite down on the skin of your hand. 

“Gonna fucking ruin you, Bams,” he warns. “I don’t want you to be able to walk tomorrow, you got that?”

“Fuck, yes,” you agree without a second thought. 

You can stay in bed all day for all you care, all you want is for Jungkook to keep stretching you apart and making you his. You don’t want your pussy to remember any other shape but his cock, want your flesh to memorize every ridge and vein so it knows exactly who’s coming home when he enters you. 

Jungkook was already close when he started fucking you, so he’s doing everything he can for you to reach the same precipice. He repeatedly slams his hips into your ass as he yanks hard enough on your hair that he can almost see your eyes from his position. His hand wraps around your throat, pressing down on your jugular until his fingers leave blotchy, red marks. A second later, he’s forcing you upright until your back meets his chest and he traps you there by looping his other arm beneath your tits. 

The new angle makes you whine pathetically as he buries his dick so deep you feel him in your throat. 

“Baby, holy shit.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook licks the sweat off your neck. “Whose pussy is this, baby?”

“Yours,” you moan weakly.

You would be more than willing to scream from the rooftops just how much your body belongs to him, but you can’t exactly speak very loud when you’re choking on the euphoria he’s providing you.

Coincidentally, your volume isn’t good enough for Jungkook.

“Louder,” he growls right into your ear.

“It’s yours, Jungkook!”

“That’s fucking right.”

His hand leaves your neck after gently constricting your airway to massage your clit instead, pushing two of his fingers into your mouth to lubricate them first. He circles and presses down hard on the nub to make you keen and throw your head back against his shoulder. He utterly devours your neck from behind, his spit coating your skin in a pretty sheen as he moves from one spot to the next. 

You feel his hand disappear from your pussy and whine disapprovingly, but then his middle fingers are sliding into your mouth again so you can suck your juices off his digits. Erotically licking around and between his fingers, you hollow your cheeks and suck so he can feel your tight throat again. 

He groans and bites on your earlobe.

“So good for me, Bambi,” he whispers darkly. “You’re fucking perfect, baby.” 

He removes his fingers from your mouth and they return to your cunt, rubbing your clit in fast circles to get you to where you need to be.

“I’m — fuck. I’m close, Koo.”

“Atta girl. Come on this fat cock,” he commands. 

Jungkook releases you and pushes you down by your shoulder blades, forcing your cheek into the cushions as you arch and match his cadence by thrusting your hips backwards. You scream into the fabric when he speeds up and abuses your hole at a demonic pace. 

The clapping is obscene and deafening, and you’re fairly certain you hear his pans rattling in the kitchen from where they hang down. 

Your climax builds to an impossible level before crashing over you like a tsunami wave of pure pleasure. There’s a combination of drool and tears left behind on the couch cushions. The room goes white when your vision blanks, your legs twitching along with your pussy as the orgasm tears through you and you helplessly sob Jungkook’s name.

The feeling of Jungkook’s seed filling your cunt makes you cry his name repeatedly like a prayer, the sensation of it dripping down your thighs heavenly enough to make your eyesight blur.

Jungkook pants irregularly for a while before pulling out and resting on your back, the two of you toppling down and lying flat against the couch as your bodies return to normalcy. 

“Goddamn, Bambi,” Jungkook huffs. 

“Me?” 

Jungkook just laughs breathlessly, kissing your cheek through the curtain of your hair. 

You remain as deadweight together on the couch until you finally feel whole enough to return to earth, and once you do, you walk hand-in-hand to Jungkook’s bedroom to catch a good night’s sleep.

A couple days later, after you can indeed walk properly again, you’re completing miscellaneous chores around the house while Jungkook finishes securing the furniture in the nursery.

It’s already been an outrageously long day, especially with the weight of your unborn child applying a disastrous amount of pressure on your lower back. Your little one’s recent growth spurt makes it nearly impossible to stand for longer than thirty minutes without reprieve. When Jungkook comes downstairs and notices you rubbing your lower back with one hand while white-knuckling the counter with the other, he rushes to you and replaces your hand with his own to massage your spine.

“Oh, thank you,” you sigh in relief. 

“I got you, babygirl,” he says with a kiss to your shoulder. A moment later he seemingly remembers something, an adorable noise of realization coming from beside you. “Wait, I saw something on the internet I wanted to try.”

“Jungkook, no.”

“No, wait, Bams, it’s supposed to help!”

You eye him dangerously over your shoulder, alerting him without a word that if this is a prank he’ll be in for a rude awakening. 

He ignores your warning glance and uses his hands to stand you upright. You feel his arms circling you to hold beneath your baby bump and you’re ready to ask what he’s doing when suddenly the weight of your womb and the pressure on your back disappears. 

Looking down, you see Jungkook holding your stomach up for you, relieving the ache and allowing you to breathe freely. 

“Oh, wow, that’s really nice,” you mumble as your head falls to his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’ll do it as long as you like, Bams,” he tells you honestly. 

He does exactly that, holding the weight of your unborn child on your behalf for about ten minutes while you relish in the feeling of being weightless for a while. The act eventually joins his foot rubs and serenades as a part of your regular routine.

You’re lounging on the couch reading another parenting book while Jungkook plays a video game with your feet in his lap. It’s actually a test run for the game he’s been designing, and Jimin was absolutely right about him giving your character huge boobs. They’re tasteful, though, and you don’t mind because she’s a total badass. 

The game is currently distracting you from your book when you feel a strange sensation in your belly. You jump a little, looking down at your baby bump which is on display since you’re only wearing a bralette. The sensation happens again, and now that you’re watching intently, you see something move beneath your skin. 

Gasping in excitement, you begin hitting Jungkook with your book to grab his attention.

“Koo! Koo! The baby is kicking,” you shout even though he’s inches away from you.

His reaction is instantaneous, pausing the game and tossing the controller unceremoniously on the couch. Your hand traverses your belly so you can feel the next kick, and when you do, it makes you squeal and giggle in amazement. 

“Here, give me your hand,” you say and he stretches his arm towards you in response.

Placing his hand where you felt the movement, you wait and watch his face instead of your belly, wanting to see his reaction when he feels his baby move for the first time. The sensation comes, and you see Jungkook’s brow crease before his whole face lights up, his big brown eyes sparkling brighter than any star in the galaxy. 

“That’s… that’s our little one?” He asks in awe. You nod repeatedly and he smiles so big it takes up his entire face. “Hi, baby,” he coos in adoration, bending down to kiss all over your stomach. 

They kick again while he’s smooching you and he yelps in surprise at the feeling. 

You’re both blushing and giggling like schoolgirls with a crush, already so completely spellbound by your child. 

Jungkook carefully crawls over you to kiss you, but it’s all teeth and tongue because you can’t stop smiling even while trying to lock lips. You whimper in pain after a moment and Jungkook pulls back to check on you, his hand rising to caress your cheek.

“Seems our baby found my spine to kick instead,” you groan. 

Jungkook frowns and runs his thumb along your cheekbone.

“I guess wanting them to grow up to be a soccer player isn’t such a good thing after all,” he notes. Then, a thought occurs to him and his eyes light up again while he giggles to himself. “Hey, guess what?”

“Hmm?”

“Bambi.” He points to you. “And Thumper.” He points to your bump.

An endeared giggle completely overtakes your body, the back of your head hitting the arm of the couch while you rapidly kick your feet. 

“That’s so cute, Koo!” You hold his face in your hands. “Our family Halloween costumes are gonna be freaking adorable!” 

Jungkook’s expression turns saccharine as his eyes trace over your features in wonderment, and his gaze makes you realize it’s the first time you’re referring to yourselves as a family. The notion is obvious, but hearing the word aloud causes both your hearts to leap into your throat. You share in an adoring chuckle again, your foreheads meeting as you serenely close your eyes.

EIGHT

Jungkook blares “It’s the Final Countdown” from his Bluetooth speaker as he enthusiastically skips around the living room, both Bam and Usagi trailing after him in wonder. You’re too busy laughing from your place on the couch to join them. 

Today is exactly one month from your due date, and you’re prepared for this to be the single longest month of your life. The last eight have felt more like eight years, but you’re so close to the promised land, and you can hardly wait to bring your little one home. If you’re lucky, the baby may even come a little early and save you some heartache. 

And the heartache is literal, since one of the latest symptoms to add itself to the disastrous mix is intense heartburn. Couple that with the incessant kicking your child’s been getting up to lately, and your entire torso feels like it’s under siege. 

Jungkook does everything he can to help, such as constantly passing you Tums and playfully scolding your baby to stop kicking so much. He even went so far as to lace up his boxing gloves and have a sparring match with your baby bump. The extreme laughter born from his antics ended up hurting your stomach more than the kicking. 

The chemistry between you has been steadily increasing for some time, the line between friends and lovers practically blurring into obscurity, but you both welcome the feeling with open arms. 

You don’t find it necessary to broach the topic. You and Jungkook have never needed words to communicate, always knowing precisely what the other is thinking with a single glance, and it’s no different in this scenario.

Every time your eyes meet you know he feels the same; you’re no longer just best friends, and that’s alright.

About a week later you’re in the nursery together working on some finishing touches to the decor. Jungkook is hanging the mobile above the crib while you place the astronomical amount of clothes you received from your surprise baby shower in the closet. The nursery is positively jam packed from all the gifts people gave you last month, every corner of the room bursting with clothes, books, toys, and accessories. Even though the ample amount of supplies is overwhelming, knowing your little one is already so loved makes you abundantly happy. 

Chaewon even crocheted the perfect gender neutral blanket, despite her original complaints about the gender being unknown. 

Since the gender is a surprise, you and Jungkook haven’t discussed baby names all that much. Some general ideas have been thrown around, including family names and a sarcastic suggestion of “JJ” for Jungkook Jr. But you both share in the, perhaps naive, belief that as soon as you see them you’ll somehow know exactly what their name should be. 

Jungkook’s work phone rings, and you briefly glance over your shoulder to see him exiting the room as he answers the call. Usagi happily trots inside with the door wide open and curls up in the little reading nook. You give her some well deserved head pats while she purrs in content before continuing with your assigned task. Once all the clothes are either hung up or housed in the proper drawers, you leave the room to check on Jungkook.

When you find him after descending the stairs, he’s standing at the kitchen island drinking a glass of water which he slams down once it’s empty. Your eyebrows quirk up at the harsh motion, wondering what the call could’ve been about to elicit such a reaction.

“Koo, is everything alright?”

Jungkook shakes his head and rests his elbows on the counter so he can cradle his head in his hands.

“They need me to go to Japan for a meeting with some execs,” he tells you. 

“For how long?”

“Three days minimum, but it could be up to a week.”

“A week? Jungkook, I’m more than eight months pregnant.”

“Yeah, I know, Bambi, I told them that!” He explains in exasperation. “Fuck, this sucks so bad.”

You take a deep breath so at least one of you remains calm. Once you’re beside him, you attempt to massage the tension away from his back and shoulders.

“It’ll be okay. Japan is only a short airplane ride away. Worst comes to worst, you fly back if I go into labor,” you state.

“It’s not just if you go into labor, Bams. This is our last month before the baby is born. We’ve still got a ton to do!”

“The nursery is almost done, and either of our parents or friends can come over to help me clean and baby proof the house.” You tug on his shoulder so he turns around before cupping his face in your hands. “It’ll be fine, baby, I promise.”

Jungkook sighs before nuzzling his head against your hand, pursing his lips to press a couple chaste kisses to your palm. Afterwards he removes your hands from his face altogether to hold them between his own.

“I just don’t want to be away from you, baby,” he admits. “Not now and especially not for that long.”

Your cheeks grow warm in response to his words and you attempt to pacify his melancholy by giving him a tender kiss on the lips.

“I don’t want to be away from you, either, but I’m sure it will go by in the blink of an eye,” you reassure him. 

He aggressively pouts, practically giving himself duck lips, despite knowing it’s the truth. He brings you to his chest for a hug and you snuggle deeper into the embrace, allowing his familiar, comforting scent to encompass you.

You still have the weekend together before Jungkook flies out early Monday morning. You spend the majority of the time cuddling on the couch watching your favorite movies and playing with your fur babies as Bam chases a bone and Usagi hunts for the laser pointer. It’s heartwarmingly domestic and you hope it’ll always be this way, especially once your baby arrives.

Whenever you’re lounging around, Jungkook always lies as close as possible to your belly and it warms your heart to watch his fingers trace little hearts and smiley faces across your skin. 

Even after eight months he still upholds the tradition of coming downstairs first thing in the morning and caressing your baby bump while whispering “hi, my little papaya.” The only difference now is the adorable behavior is immediately followed by him pecking your lips and whispering “hi, my baby” to you.

You’re fully aware that when Monday rolls around you’re going to be a total basket case. The two of you haven’t been apart for more than a day since you got pregnant, and the thought of going a whole week without him when you’re this close to the finish line is borderline unbearable. 

Especially because your third trimester hormones have turned you into a raving lunatic as of late. Crocodile tears form in your eyes over nearly everything and your temper flips on a dime, which you always profusely apologize to Jungkook for whenever he’s on the receiving end. Two weeks ago, you found a dead spider on the ground and started weeping hysterically, so it’s safe to say the time away from Jungkook is going to leave you a complete mess. 

When you do say goodbye, you make a valiant effort at staying strong, but then Jungkook kisses you reverently, both his hands cupping your cheeks as he pours every once of his devotion into your mouth and you shatter into a million pieces. Your tears get trapped between your faces as your lips mold together, but Jungkook diligently wipes them away when he parts from you. 

His forehead presses to yours when he whispers that he loves you and he’ll be back soon before departing with a final grace of his lips to your brow. 

You wail Disney Princess style on his bed as soon as the door clicks shut behind you. It’s downright pathetic, but you don’t care because Usagi is the sole witness to your display. The sheets smell like him and it only serves to make matters worse. It’s only been five minutes and you feel like you miss him down to your very bones already.

Even though he’s far away, you still sleep in his bed rather than your own. You haven’t slept in the guest bedroom originally meant for you in well over two months, and it feels wrong to stay there just because he’s gone. 

Jungkook remains in constant contact with you, which helps ease the heartache of being apart. He messages you at every milestone, from the moment he arrives at the airport, to when his plane lands, and then again when he reaches the hotel. He sends photos and selfies, too, which fills you with exuberant warmth while simultaneously bringing on more tears.

You wallow in self-pity the whole first day, eating an entire tub of ice cream while you watch cheesy romantic comedies. Various friends and family come over the following day to help around the house, which you genuinely appreciate more than words can describe because there is still so much to do. On the third morning without Jungkook, your moms visit and the three of you chat over sparkling grape juice about anything and everything to expect.

They explain all the intimate details of the birthing process they can remember, such as what contractions and labor feel like, and how the brief hospital stay will go prior to bringing the baby home. Your mom goes into grave detail about how awful you’ll feel afterwards and Jungkook’s mom adds more pack to the punch by mentioning how difficult caring for a newborn is while healing from the delivery. 

They assure you everything will be fine, though, and that they’ll be here everyday if you need them. The three of you also agree you truly have nothing to worry about when you have someone as wonderful as Jungkook to care for you.

“Why did you guys want to be pregnant at the same time so badly anyway?” You ask them out of pure curiosity. 

“Well, truth be told, and don’t tell Kookie this, but we were actually hoping you would both be girls so we could have this adorable, little, four way mother-daughter relationship,” Jungkook’s mom tells you. 

You chuckle at her admission and your mind begins to wonder just how different your life would be if that had been the case.

“Honestly, though, this outcome is so much better!” Your mom exclaims. “Now we get to be grandparents together.”

“I’m sure that wasn’t part of the plan,” you state.

“Not at first, no,” Jungkook’s mom says. “But I think we knew as you guys got older, especially after college, that it was only a matter of time.”

“You know, you guys aren’t the only people to say that and I genuinely don’t get it,” you say. “I’m head over heels for him now, no doubt about it, but before, I truly didn’t see him that way. I mean, we grew up together, we were closer than most brothers and sisters are for the majority of our lives.”

“I don’t think it’s about how you felt at the time,” your mom explains. “I think it’s the way you interact, how much you care about one another. There’s one else who could ever give you the love you deserve more than each other.”

As you process her comment, the cogwheels in your mind synthesize and you finally understand what everyone’s been telling you all this time. What Nayeon said about your feelings for him being more than those of a relationship and Chaewon telling you not to overthink things. No one’s presented the notion to you this way before, and something about your mother’s words causes everything to click into place. 

You’re together now because it’s as easy as breathing, and whether you initially had romantic feelings for each other or not, no one can compare.

On day four you’re alone again and you go genuinely stir crazy. Poor Bam has to take the brunt of your brief mental insanity as you cry into his fur and lay across him in a desperate attempt to gain some sort of warmth and comfort. 

Although, you don’t need his services for long, because Jungkook calls like he has every night, but this time he has good news.

“Guess who’s coming home early tomorrow?”

“Really?” You shout into the receiver, your hands still covered in chip dust from eating your feelings. 

“Yup, first flight out of here tomorrow morning,” he tells you.

“Ah! Koo, I’m so excited!”

“Me, too, baby,” he says. “I miss you like crazy, been thinking about you 24/7.”

“Me, too,” you respond. “I think our little one misses you, too. They’ve been restless ever since you left.”

“Have you been playing the mixtape for them?”

“Yes, but it isn’t the same, and I honestly think they’ve gotten picky about it. Live vocals are just so much better, you know?”

Jungkook chuckles and even through the phone you can tell he’s smiling. 

“I’ll make sure to serenade them immediately upon my return,” he states.

“Nuh uh!” You pout even though he can’t see you. “I take priority here, mister.”

“Oh, you’re right. I’m sorry, Bams,” he laughs. “You’ll always be my number one.”

The two of you continue to talk about your respective days for a while. Jungkook explains all the cool gaming stuff he’s gotten to see while at the headquarters in Japan and you parry with your accomplishment of watching all five Twilight movies in a single day. You reluctantly hang up after a couple hours with a quick “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Tomorrow ends up being a complete disaster. 

There’s extreme thunderstorms throughout the entire region, so as soon as you wake up, you see a text from Jungkook informing you his flight’s been delayed by about two hours. It’s no biggie at first, knowing these things happen and it shouldn’t keep him from you for that much longer. But one delay turns to two, which becomes three, and after eight delays, his flight is finally moved to an entirely different airline and won’t be arriving until the following day at approximately three in the morning. 

He tells you not to wait up for him and get your sleep, but there’s no way in hell you’re waiting even another second to see him. 

Even once he lands, it’s still down pouring and the taxi takes another thirty minutes to reach him. He gives you periodic updates, including some heartbreaking selfies of him pouting by the luggage carousel, but despite being able see his handsome face through the phone, it’s all so frustrating you could rip your hair right out of your head. 

By the time his location icon starts moving towards the house, you’ve been pacing the floor like a mad woman for close to an hour. 

Your incessant pacing screeches to a halt when you hear the sound of his footsteps bounding up the stairs and the key turning in the lock. You scurry across the floor as fast as your swollen, pregnant feet will carry you, waiting just behind the door for the reveal of your favorite sight in the world. Although, when the door swings open, you don’t get the chance to admire him before your face is squished against his. 

The very moment Jungkook sees you, he takes your face in his hands and smashes his lips on yours as though he’ll die if he doesn’t. His hungry mouth silences your noise of surprise, coaxing your mouth open and allowing his tongue to invade the space as he kisses you until you can’t see straight. Muscle memory makes it all too easy for him to guide you away from the door and into the wall. You moan when your back meets the hard surface and Jungkook groans in satisfaction at the sound, using his hips to trap you between him and the drywall. 

The warm hands on your skin, taut body flush to yours, and delicious mouth utterly devouring you completely shuts down your senses until all you can see, hear, smell, taste, and feel are him. 

Hands reaching up to grab the collar of his shirt, you tug him impossibly close, even though your bodies are already touching in every place possible. He’s kissing you like he never has before and somehow you still want more. Your hands release the fabric to traverse the planes of his chest and hold his shoulders, eventually moving upwards to caress his neck and jaw. 

He’s completely soaked from the rain, his hair dripping cold water droplets onto your skin and his soiled clothes transferring the liquid onto your own, but there isn’t a single piece of you that minds. He can drench you in acid for all you care, as long as he stays this close and keeps kissing you like this. 

Jungkook pulls a centimeter away, his lips still brushing yours as he breathes erratically as though he ran all the way from the airport. 

“I’m so in love with you,” he pants. “I’m fucking crazy about you, Bambi.” He shakes his head in disbelief of his confidence to finally confess. “I was going to wait to tell you until after the baby’s born, but being away from you was fucking torture and I couldn’t hold it in any longer.”

“Hold it in? How long have you felt this way?” 

Your eyes stare into his with wonder.

“Since we thought we were gonna lose the baby,” he tells you. “I was driving you to the doctor’s office and it felt like the whole world was crashing down around me, but then I realized that’s okay. That if that happened, it wouldn’t matter. The zombie apocalypse could destroy all of humanity, the tectonic plates could shift and send entire continents into the sea, and it wouldn’t matter as long as I have you.” He inhales while gently shaking his head and spraying you with rainwater. “And that’s not new, I’ve always felt that way about you. I’ve always known I want you by my side for the rest of my life, but it made me realize I don’t want anyone else by my side. I only want you, baby.”

“Jungkook, you kept that from me for two months?” You ask incredulously.

“We have a lot going on at the moment, Bams,” he explains.

“Sure, but the stuff we have going on is stressful. Your feelings for me aren’t stressful.”

Jungkook’s eyes burn with intensity as he analyzes the meaning of your words. 

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why aren’t they stressful, Bambi?”

“Because.” You shrug like what you’re about to say is the most obvious truth of the universe. “Well, because I’m in love with y — mmpf.”

Jungkook ceases the remainder of your confession with a divine kiss. Your mouths move in perfect harmony and you swear you see the sun peaking through the rain clouds outside. It doesn’t seem possible, but you can feel every ounce of Jungkook’s love for you on his tongue as it traces your lips and tangles with your own.

“Say it again,” he requests. “Please.”

“I’m in love with you.”

“Again, don’t stop.”

“I love you.” Kiss. “I’m so, stupidly, madly.” Kiss. “Crazy in love with you, Jungkook.” Kiss. “I love you so much.” Kiss. “I love you more than anything.” Kiss. “More than I’ll ever be able to describe.” Kiss. “Jungkook.” Kiss. “You’re my everything.” Kiss. “I love you, Koo.”

You aren’t able to chant your emotions anymore because Jungkook doesn’t give you time to breathe, let alone speak. 

His hands are still firmly cradling your face, both your lips refusing to part from one another for a single second. He tastes like honey and vanilla, most likely from the sweets you know he had on the plane. It’s addicting and hypnotizes you completely until all you can think about is him and all you can do is kiss him with all your might. 

Jungkook’s hands travel to the back of your head and tangle in your hair. He uses the leverage to tilt your head so he can kiss across your jaw and neck, biting down softly before sucking over the same spot and making you whimper helplessly for him. 

The attention on your neck only lasts momentarily before he’s releasing you to grab your ass instead, but you stop him by gripping his biceps.

“Baby, you can’t lift me right now, I’m too heavy,” you warn him.

Jungkook looks so offended he takes two full steps away from you, one of his eyebrows rising in disbelief as his jaw ticks. He even goes so far as to scoff while cracking his neck. Then, for the sole purpose of proving you wrong, he effortlessly lifts you into his arms and you have to scramble to latch onto him with your arms around his neck and legs around his waist.

“You wanna try that again, Bams?”

“No,” you grumble under your breath.

The sound of his proud chuckle meets your ears as he seamlessly carries up the stairs and into his bedroom. He tosses you unceremoniously onto the bed, your body bouncing when you land as you giggle in excitement. 

You wait for him to join you, reaching towards him with a pout when he isn’t instantly on top of you, but he only rests one knee on the edge of the mattress.

“Wait, since when have you known?”

“Honestly?” Jungkook nods rapidly. “I have no fucking clue. It’s just like my nickname. I have no idea when or where it happened. I just know all of the sudden you were the first thing on my mind when I woke up, and I got butterflies when we were together, and I wanted to hold your hand, cuddle you, and go on dates. It’s like I just woke up one day and realized I fell in love with you but have no way of tracing it to an exact origin.”

Jungkook smiles and shakes his head knowingly.

“That’s so you.”

“I know, I’m a freaking space cadet!”

“My space cadet,” Jungkook says, finally moving to hover above you. “Also, I know how you got your nickname.”

“Huh?” You frown deeply. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve always known, but I thought it was cute that none of you could remember,” he explains. “It felt like it was my own little secret.”

“Koo!”

Jungkook laughs while scrunching his nose in adoration, his arms shaking where they rest on either side of your head.

“Alright, alright, I’ll tell you. We were watching the movie in my living room and you just wouldn’t stop crying after Bambi’s mom died, like full blown hysterical tears. So, to cheer you up I said ‘it’s okay, Bambi,’ and you smiled SO big and your eyes lit up like fireworks. I knew then it had to be your nickname.”

Your lip catches between your teeth as you will the sentimental tears not to fall. The notion of Jungkook knowing this whole time is both infuriating and also so heartwarming; that his nickname for you is so precious to him he didn’t dare share the secret of its beginning. 

“That’s so you,” you reply to his story.

He radiantly beams at you, his cheeks and ears turning bright pink from the blush spreading across them. You share in your affectionate laughter as he drops to his elbows so he can kiss you. 

“I love you so much, Bambi,” he whispers. “You’re everything to me, baby.”

The tears you successfully held back before make their debut, wetting both his and your cheeks as they roll away from your eyes. 

Even though you’ve known for a while now this confession was imminent, it’s still just as mesmerizing to hear the words from his lips and be able to say them in return.

The kiss begins with fluid, languid motions, your mouths dancing together for the millionth time, but then Jungkook raises the temperature of the room, greedily licking into your mouth and tugging on your lower lip with his teeth before letting it snap into place. The air fills with moans and whines as you make out, but you stop him with a hand to his chest when you feel him grinding against you.

“Wait, Koo, sex can induce labor,” you tell him.

“Okay,” he draws out the word. “So, we get it on and meet our little one a bit early, isn’t that a win-win situation?”

You chuckle and mentally berate yourself for believing his answer would be anything besides that. Rolling your eyes with an affectionate smile, you briefly peck his lips before smacking his ass.

“Deal, but I’m getting on top.”

Jungkook certainly isn’t going to object to you riding his dick. 

He holds you by the waist and rolls you both over, helping you settle in his lap and caressing your outline as his eyes memorize the vision of you above him. His fingers grip the bottom of your shirt to pull it over your head and then he does the same for his own. 

You don’t let him continue undressing, too mesmerized by his chiseled torso to allow the sight to be hindered. He’s been working out more these last few months as a way to unwind from the stress of preparing for fatherhood, and it’s definitely paid off. You’ve always known how blessed you are to have him, but moments like this remind you just how blessed you truly are.

His neck is your initial target while your hands run along his abs, sinking your nails into the hard lines and creating red marks across his pretty muscles. Jungkook whines at the feeling, his hand reactively grabbing the back of your head as you mark his neck with pretty, wet blotches. 

“Please don’t tease me, baby,” he says. “I need you so fucking bad.”

“You’re the one who left me alone for five days,” you reply in between kisses to his jugular. “I’ll take however long I want.”

Taking your time traversing his shoulder and collarbones, you trace over every muscle and bone with your lips, soaking his skin as your tongue drags across the area. His hand keeps a firm grip on your head, slightly guiding your movements, but still allowing you to savor his upper body despite his request. You bite into his pecs and circle his nipple with your tongue, making his hips bucks beneath you as he groans. 

You giggle like the brat you are at his neediness, already feeling his cock stiffening where your core rests against his crotch.

It honestly takes an exuberant amount of effort to stop painting his torso in kisses, reluctantly pulling away after licking across the entire expanse of his stomach down to his hips and placing a single smooch on all eight of his abdominal muscles. 

Jungkook forces your lips to meet his when you’re done, kissing you like he’s starving for you as he removes both your bottoms in quick succession.

He can feel just how wet you are as soon as your bare cunt meets his length, your essence already leaking all over him without him having to do any work. It brings a smile to his face as you kiss, the feeling of pride turning his chest red with blush because of his effect on you. 

“Missed you so fucking much, babygirl.”

The words have barely left Jungkook’s lips when he grabs your hips to position you over his cock. His fingers wrap around his shaft so you have a perfect target to sink onto, and the familiar feeling of him stretching you open as you sit on his thighs makes your head lull while you breathlessly moan.

“Oh fuck, baby,” you mewl. “I missed you so bad.”

Jungkook is pulling your face to his so he can kiss you before you even start bouncing on him, his other hand grabbing your ass and squeezing your flesh possessively. The kiss is quick, because soon after he’s turning your head and licking across the hot skin of your neck. His warm breath tickles your ear as he goes to speak. 

“This cock is all yours, Bams. So, be good and ride it for me, yeah?” 

You’d do anything he asks, and his words light up the competitive streak in you to give him the best fuck of his life. 

The temptress within you gets the better of you, and you decide to fully unsheath him from the walls of your pussy while grabbing his cock with your hand to keep him in place. He groans indignantly when your warmth leaves him, and you wait a few torturous moments before slowly letting him enter you again one inch at a time. 

Jungkook spanks you in retaliation, but you just chuckle and scratch at his pecs with your nails.  

Continuing the slow glide, you watch as Jungkook’s cock leaves your cunt covered in your juices until it disappears from view when your walls suck him in again. The erotic visual makes your body burn with wanton need. His thick cock repeatedly spearing you is truly a sight to behold and it feels even better than it looks. 

“Fuck, Bambi, don’t fucking do this to me.”

“Do what?” 

The faux innocent gaze your eyes possess makes Jungkook’s jaw clench. 

“I will demolish this fucking pussy. Don’t mess with me, baby,” he threatens. 

“I’d like to see you tr –” 

Jungkook cuts your air supply off completely with a single deadly thrust upwards, your sentence ending with a screech instead of the syllable it was supposed to. 

You aren’t able to replenish your oxygen because Jungkook’s hand is suddenly around your throat, pressing down on the sides to choke you without actually hurting you. His other hand bruisingly holds your hip so he can keep you exactly where he wants you. Your inner thighs meet his pelvis when he plants his feet against the mattress, giving him all the leverage he needs to fuck you dumb. 

“There we go, much better,” he grunts as he abuses your hole. 

“Koo, oh my God.” 

You’re grasping for purchase on his chest to keep yourself upright, eventually gripping his shoulders to prevent falling right over. The combination of his hand around your throat and his cock hitting just the right spot inside you has your mind going numb and your mouth dropping open. 

Jungkook’s completely focused on his singular goal of fucking you right, his brow creasing as his eyes sharpen with determination. He looks no less than ethereal below you, the sweat on his skin making him shimmer like the Greek god you’re positive he descends from. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking handsome, Jungkook. It’s unreal.”

He blushes at your compliment even as his hips work endlessly to force his dick deep into your pussy. 

“That means a lot coming from someone as beautiful as you,” he says with honey coating his tone.

Unlike him, you’re unable to blush or even react, the speed and force of his strokes is plummeting your body into an ocean of euphoria and all you can do is drown. The sex is borderline demonic, and yet it feels like heaven coursing through your veins. 

It’s a genuine mystery of the universe how someone as kind and gentle as Jungkook can be such a goddamn animal in bed. 

If it wasn’t for your pregnant belly, you’re certain Jungkook’s cock would be making an appearance in your abdomen. His lower body is working overtime to send his thick length as far as possible into you and the sensation turns your mind to goo. You would love nothing more than to focus on the feeling of his muscles beneath your fingers, or the way his thighs smash into yours with every thrust, but you’re in a subspace of pleasure. 

“Fuck, Bams, you look so sexy,” he tells you, his voice dripping with desire. “Pussy filled with me, belly swollen with my child, your perfect tits full of milk. You’re fucking gorgeous, babygirl.”

As if to prove his point, he sits up to tug one of your nipples between his teeth. You gasp at the abrasion against your already sensitive skin, but the sound melts into a moan when he takes it into his mouth and sucks on the pebbled skin.

He plays with your nipple until it’s sore, flicking it with his tongue and then slowly circling it until you’re whining and gripping his hair like a lifeline. Wet kisses are placed all over your breast, slathering you in drool and red blotches where he chose to suck on your flesh. You think the debilitating treatment is over until he switches sides, making you cry with pleasure. 

There’s a pop when he releases your nub from his mouth to kiss along your sternum instead.

“You feel fucking amazing, baby. So big, make me feel so full,” you moan.

Jungkook hums proudly as his tongue leaves his mouth to the lick your collarbone.  

“I don’t know how I’ll survive six weeks without fucking this perfect, little cunt.”

His hand tightens around your throat again and you whimper, rolling your hips downward along with his movements to create friction on your clit.

“At least you’ll be able to jack off,” you retort.

“Mm, that can’t even hold a candle to you, baby,” he kisses across your shoulder, inch by inch until he reaches your neck. “I would know, it’s all I fucking did the last five days.” 

Jungkook’s hand leaves your throat with a final squeeze to join his other one at your hips, bringing you down against him with more ferocity as the sound of skin slapping together fills the room. 

“I’ve got you addicted, don’t I?”

“Fuck, you have no idea, Bambi.”

You continue fucking yourself on him to the best of your ability even with his brutal pace, feeling infinitely needier as your orgasm steadily approaches. 

Jungkook is reeking havoc on your neck, coating you in his saliva as he licks across your sweat soaked skin and kisses your most sensitive spots. He nibbles on your earlobe and it makes you keen and whimper unabashedly. 

Honestly, you don’t know how you’ll survive the six weeks either. The two of you have done nothing but fuck since a few weeks after you moved in, and the forced celibacy may very well send you spiraling into insanity. You’re addicted to him, too, and you already know you’ll be begging for his dick for the remainder of your days.

Craving more of you, Jungkook holds you firm against his chest and slams back into the mattress, readjusting his feet and the angle of his hips so he can terrorize your g-spot with the tip of his cock. 

“Oh, holy shit.”

You bite down on his shoulder as tears prick your eyes.

He growls amorously in his throat, his hips taking on a mind of their own as they work effortlessly to send you both crashing into an orgasm. 

Part of you feels bad for requesting to be on top only to allow him to take control, but the guilt washes away like sand when you feel your climax pressing against your insides like a tsunami just offshore. 

“Come on my cock, baby, wanna feel how tight you squeeze me,” Jungkook orders. 

You can’t answer him, the only noises escaping your body being nonsensical moans and cries of his name. But your body certainly responds, your pussy clenching around his cock like a vice before your legs lock and twitch when your release comes.

The pulsing of your cunt triggers Jungkook’s release, and your cries of pleasure harmonize as you come together. 

“Shit, Koo,” you curse as he continues sending his cock into you, creating an ache of oversensitivity between your legs. “Baby.” 

You stall his movements with a hand to his chest as your pussy convulses around him with the aftershocks of your orgasm. There’s a soreness in your thighs when you lift yourself from his lap and fall beside him on the bed. 

Jungkook’s softening cock is covered in white from both of your juices, and if you weren’t entirely spent and borderline delirious, you’d lick it clean for him. 

He caresses your face as your eyes close, moving your hair out the way so he can kiss your cheek, nose, temple, and forehead. You hum happily, pursing your lips as a wordless demand for him to kiss them as well.

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook,” you whisper into the air.

The sound of his bright laugh makes you smile.

“I love you more,” he responds before finally giving you a tender kiss.

“Oh, please don’t make me fight you right now. I’m in no shape to do so,” you state.

Jungkook giggles and pecks your lips a couple more times in rapid succession.

Once your heavy breathing slows and your bodies cool, you roll into Jungkook’s side and he naturally pulls you into his embrace. 

It’s nearing sunrise and if you’re this exhausted, you can’t even begin to comprehend how tired Jungkook must be.

He wishes you goodnight where his lips rest on your forehead and you return the gesture by smooching his chest a couple times. The two of you sleep peacefully for the first time in days, the feeling of home completely encompassing you as you’re whisked away to dreamland. 

NINE

Despite the many warnings about the possibility of sex inducing labor, you’re three days from your due date and Jungkook fucking you sensless multiple times a day has yet to make your baby arrive any sooner. 

The two of you are in the honeymoon phase straight out of finally confessing your love for each other, and you having a massive baby bump and a few extra pounds on you doesn’t stop you in the slightest from celebrating your new relationship status. Jungkook can’t keep his hands to himself even when you’re in the middle of important tasks readying the house for your little pumpkin 

Honestly, you think it’s partially to distract himself from the imminent arrival of your child. He never says it aloud because he doesn’t want to worry you, but you know him better than anyone and can tell he’s anxious. 

It’s one thing to spend nine months positively itching to hold your baby in your arms, but it’s another to actually parent said child. 

Even with his nerves, he’s been the picture perfect partner throughout these final weeks and you’re nothing short of absolutely certain he’ll be the most amazing father in the world. Even if he fails at things or messes up every now and then, the immense love he already holds for your baby is more than you could ever ask for from a partner.

Right now he’s screwing the final dresser into the wall of his bedroom so it’s baby-proof. He’s never been much of a handyman, but you suppose the fatherhood gene has fully fermented in his blood and now he can handle a drill like a pro. You’ll have to ask him about changing tires next, and his sneezes will probably get louder as soon as the baby is born.

You’re moseying around the kitchen as you clean up following dinner. Jungkook keeps telling you to stay still and relax, but you’re way too antsy to do that.  

Every minute feels like an hour while you wait for your little one to arrive. Not only because you’re so eager to meet them, but because you’re terrified of labor and delivery and want it over with as soon as possible. It’s a fear of the unknown, and you know you’ll feel better once you understand how bad the contractions will be. 

Being pregnant comes with many lovely perks, one of which includes peeing every time you cough or even flinch the wrong way. 

That’s why, when you feel a warm sensation down below, you don’t question it. Like always these past couple months, you merely roll your eyes and make a mental note to change your underwear when you’re done cleaning. 

It’s only once you step to your left and have to catch yourself on the counter to stop from slipping that you realize you’re standing in a pool of liquid. You certainly didn’t pee your pants, because although it’s been a couple decades since you last did, you remember the feeling quite well. When the realization of what actually occurred hits you, you’re screaming bloody murder for Jungkook upstairs.

“My water! Jungkook! My water just broke!” 

The sound of his two feet followed by four large paws running down the stairs is all you hear until he appears at the bottom of the stairwell looking like he’s seen a ghost.

His cheeks are bright red, his eyes bigger than you’ve ever seen them, and he’s huffing out air as though he just ran a marathon. 

“Are you serious?” 

“Yes, Koo, I’m standing in amniotic fluid as we speak!”

Jungkook shakes his head aggressively to get himself into action mode. 

“Alright, you get your shoes on, I’m gonna get the hospital bag. Wait, do you need to change first?”

“That would be nice, yeah,” you admit. 

He’s gone in a flash to head back upstairs and obtain your pre-packed bag with all the essentials and something for you to change into. 

When he returns only a split second later, Usagi is following close behind now that she’s aware something exciting is going on. He hands you a comfortable dress and panties to change into and you strip right there in the kitchen. His hand on your hip stalls you before you’re able to slip the clothes on, and you nearly start screaming at him that now is not the time, but then he grabs a towel and wipes away the fluid from your legs. 

You smile graciously and thank him for thinking ahead before sliding the dress over your head and scurrying to the door. 

Now that your water broke you can feel a mild cramping from the contractions. It’s a dull pitch in your back as well as what you can only compare to a period cramp. You must not be dilated very much yet because the pain is still fairly tolerable. 

Jungkook bends over to help you with your shoes before resting his hand on your lower back to guide you downstairs to the garage. Both your hands are caressing your swollen stomach, slightly bracing yourself because the cramping is coming in waves every few minutes. 

When you reach the car Jungkook opens the passenger door for you, but you turn on your heel and place your hands on his chest before sitting down. He looks at you inquisitively, his eyes conveying his hurriedness and confusion as to why you’re not rushing, too. 

“I just, we have time, and I want to take a minute before we go,” you tell him.

“For what, Bambi?”

You admire the pretty features you’ve known all your life with a smile and reach up to circle his neck with your arms. He laughs cheerfully and reflects your embrace by hugging your waist.

“This is the last time we’re gonna be here, just the two of us.” You nuzzle your face in his neck and let his scent calm you. “The last time it will just be you and me.”

“It’s always gonna be you and me, Bams,” he replies. “Always.”

He kisses your cheek, leaving his lips there for a lingering moment before you part. Once you do, he rests his hand on your jaw and kisses you gently. His lips are warm and familiar, and you kiss one another with a promise of wonderful new things on the horizon. 

Jungkook waits to ensure you’re comfortable in the passenger seat before running to the other side and taking off towards the nearby hospital. On the way, you call your doctor to let them and she assures you she’ll meet you there once the labor and delivery nurses triage you. 

When you arrive, you take a poignant deep breath, knowing that when you exit this place you’ll be a mom, and this is the last time in the outside world where you’ll just be you. It’s exhilarating, nerve wracking, and overwhelming all at once, but you’ve been preparing for this next chapter for nine months now, and you’re more than ready.

You and Jungkook have your hands tightly wound together as you enter the massive hospital, but he relinquishes his grip to grab you a wheelchair once you’re inside. He watches you carefully as you sit down, holding his hands out on either side of you as though you’re made of glass. When you nod at him assuredly that you’re all good, he rushes to the counter to inform the receptionist while you text all your important group chats about what’s going on. 

Your parents and friends are planning on coming to see you and the baby after delivery, and you can’t wait to formally introduce them to your little one. 

Jungkook returns along with a labor and delivery nurse who introduces herself before wheeling you down the hallway. When you reach two large double doors, she stops and turns to you and Jungkook, whose hand is comfortingly rubbing your shoulder.

“Alright, this is where we’ll be parting for a bit. Mom, you’re coming with me, and Dad, you have to get scrubbed up so you can join us,” she explains.

This step in the process is something your doctor explained previously, but it doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier, no matter how momentary the separation will be.

Looking towards Jungkook, you notice he’s just as anxious to be away from you, but he hides it well and bends to your height so he can kiss you briefly. 

“I’ll see you soon, okay, Bambi?”

There are tears in your eyes even though you’re nodding your head.

“Yeah, soon,” you whimper.

“It’s okay, baby, it won’t be for long,” he tells you as he caresses your cheek. You lean your head into his hand and close your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you parrot and kiss him one final time. 

He waves continuously as you’re pushed through the double doors by your nurse, and even though you know he’s upset, too, he’s sporting the cheesiest grin on his face to make you laugh.

Jungkook heaves out a sigh directly from his gut once you’re gone, his head falling back as he struggles to steady his jackrabbiting heart. Being apart right now feels like unadulterated torture, but he knows it’s only for a short while before you’ll be together again.

A different nurse comes to lead him to a sterile room just around the corner. The older woman explains the basics of scrubs and staying clean as well as what to do if he gets contaminated. He listens as dutifully as possible with all the other millions of thoughts running through his head and eventually the nurse helps him dress in the lovely, crinkly blue outfit, which includes shoe covers and a hair net. 

He looks utterly ridiculous, but truthfully, finally dawning his father-to-be attire makes him giddy.

When he exits, the nurse leads him down a seemingly infinite hallway to a delivery room where your doctor is waiting just outside the door. She smiles joyously when he appears in her vision and enthusiastically waves him down. 

“Hi, Doc,” he excitedly greets her.

“Hi, how are you feeling?” She asks him.

“I’m… nervous as hell,” he says truthfully. “I can’t stand seeing her in pain, so I don’t think I’m going to handle this very well.”

“A lot of dads feel that way about their partner,” she explains. “Just remember, all you can do is be there for her and she’ll get through it. She’s a tough cookie.”

“She is,” he nods with a smile.

“So, I wanted to talk to you before we go in. Y/N’s lost quite a lot of blood, and we’ve had to set her up with a continuous blood transfusion to ensure she’ll have enough for delivery. Now, let me just say, this is totally normal. We deal with this all the time and we’ve got everything under control.”

Jungkook’s heart drops into his stomach with a weighted plop, his entire body following suit as his shoulders sink and he nearly loses his balance.

“What – what – what do you mean, why is she losing blood?”

“It’s just something that happens sometimes, the baby is moving through her body and it can cause internal bleeding which drops her blood count,” she explains calmly.

“But… but she’s gonna be okay, right? I mean, Doc, that’s my entire world in there. I’m… I’m not even a person without her, I –”

“Jungkook, listen to me,” she interrupts his manic ramblings. “I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive. She’s going to be just fine. Her and the baby. You’re going to leave here with both of them tomorrow, alright?”

Jungkook attempts to calm his thoughts and take her words of expertise to heart, but he needs to see you for himself, hold you and feel your skin beneath his fingers so he knows without a shadow of a doubt that you’re alright.

“Okay. And you’ll… she takes priority, right? If something goes wrong –”

“Of course, she does.” She smiles reassuringly at him. “I won’t let anything happen to your Bambi, Jungkook.”

He nods his head as a sigh of relief leaves his lungs.

“Thank you, Doctor,” he says wholeheartedly.

“Of course. Let’s get you in there to see her, yeah? Fair warning, she’s a little loopy because of the blood loss, but it shouldn’t last too much longer now that she’s hooked up to a blood bag.”

She opens the door and gestures for Jungkook to enter before following closely behind.

When you see the light pouring in from the door opening, your eyes glisten with excitement as Jungkook appears in your field of vision. Even though you feel half alive, the sight of the man you love brings a huge toothy grin to your face. 

“Koo,” you call for him quietly, your hand weakly rising in his direction. He’s at your side instantly, taking your shaking hand and kissing the back of it before sitting in the chair beside your hospital bed. “You look so cute in your scrubs.”

“Yeah? Well, you look absolutely beautiful, baby,” he tells you as he delicately pushes your sweaty hair from your face. 

The contractions are coming in quick succession now and are significantly more powerful, but because of the blood loss you’ve only been given a mild pain reliever. It’s truthfully been horrible so far, especially when you nearly passed out from all the blood escaping your body. You don’t dare tell Jungkook about it, knowing precisely how he’ll react, but you already feel better with him next to you.

Pursing your lips in his general direction, you hear Jungkook chuckle as he leans in to kiss you deeply. Despite your current state, you still do your best to reciprocate the passion he pours into you, moving your lips in tandem while his free hand rises to cradle your jaw. Your foreheads meet once your lips reluctantly divide, but Jungkook uses his grip to lower your head so he can press his lips there a couple times instead.

“So, I take it you two aren’t just best friends anymore?” Your doctor is sitting between your legs with an eyebrow raised. You and Jungkook share a knowing chuckle before facing her and shaking your heads in unison. She smiles broadly in response. “Good, I’m glad.”

Just then, another contraction crashes over you and you groan while bending over in pain. Jungkook’s eyes go wide and misty in an instant, his hand clutching yours in support, which you return tenfold by brutally squishing his fingers together from the tightness of your grip. 

You feel his other hand combing through your hair as you attempt to push through the pain by counting your breaths. The pain coursing through your lower half is already borderline unbearable, and you pray they can give you the epidural soon.

“Breathe, baby,” Jungkook instructs, mimicking the Lamaze technique you learned all those months ago. 

The class was enjoyable enough, but the breathing exercises truly don’t do jack shit for the pain. Jungkook’s voice brings you more comfort than the repetitive intakes of air you were taught. As the pain begins to cease, you crash back into the bed with shaky breaths while Jungkook massages the shoulder closest to him. 

“Are you alright, Bams?” He asks, his eyes watching the monitor beside you so he can see your heart rate returning to baseline.

“Yeah, I am now,” you pant.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You caress his cheek with your free hand while putting on your bravest smile for him.

“No, my love, you just have to sit there and look pretty,” you instruct him. 

Jungkook blushes as he laughs.

You request he answer some of the hundreds of text messages currently blowing up your phone and causing it to nearly vibrate off the table. He does so without hesitation, sending mass text messages to your friends and family stating where to go when they arrive and updating them on how you're doing. There’s also a fair amount of selfies taken in between contractions, some for your loved ones and a couple of you two kissing for his own records. He wants to remember this forever, even if you both look questionable at best in your hospital attire. 

Everyone in your life knows about the relationship status upgrade, but he still wants to keep some moments sacred for just the two of you. 

When you told your moms, you genuinely thought they were going to pass out from sheer excitement. The two women cried hysterical happy tears and hugged one another for a minimum of five minutes before finally embracing the two of you in congratulations. 

The contractions continue for a couple hours, each wave of them getting closer and closer together until they’re almost neck and neck. After a particularly horrific one lasting about ten minutes, your doctor comes to speak to you.

“So, here’s the situation,” she starts. “You’re dilated to ten right now; the baby is ready to come out. The only problem is you still haven’t received enough blood for us to give you the epidural.” She sighs regretfully. “That gives us two options. You either do the birth naturally now or we give you a medicine that slows your labor down and we wait until we can give you the epidural. The biggest downside to that is the medicine can take upwards of ten hours to leave your system, so you’ll be feeling the contractions for that long.”

You were never planning on delivering naturally, and having to choose between the better of two evils is making your brain short circuit. All you want is to meet your baby, to hold, kiss, and love them, but there’s a barrier of brutality standing in your way. 

“Do you think I can do it naturally?” You ask her.

“Absolutely. I’ve seen thousands of women do it, but that doesn’t mean you have to. Everyone is different.”

Anxiously gnawing on your lip, you turn towards Jungkook, whose expression mirrors the fright on your own. His eyes are glossy with unsung emotion and it breaks your heart. You know how difficult it is for him to feel so powerless to help you, always proudly holding the title of your knight in shining armor all your life. 

“What do you think?”

“It’s not up to me, Bams,” he answers.

“I know, but I want your opinion.”

His jaw clenches and he shakes his head before speaking.

“I fucking hate seeing you in pain, Bambi. I can hardly stand it, you know that,” he responds. “But for either option it sounds like that’ll be the case. You either experience excruciating pain now or suffer for ten hours with severe pain.”

You mull over his words for a while before releasing the air in your lungs as your decision finalizes in your mind. 

“I wanna meet our baby, Koo,” you tell him. “I don’t want to wait.”

Jungkook smiles assuredly at you and brings your fingers to his lips to kiss.

“I know you can do this, Bambi. There’s nothing in this world I believe in more.”

“So, we’re gonna try naturally?” Your doctor asks to clarify and you answer her with a nervous nod of your head. “Great, we’ll start pushing in about ten minutes, alright? Remember that you’re going to push along with each contraction, so don’t push until I tell you.”

She walks across the room to discuss the plan with the other nurses assisting her with your delivery. Jungkook grabs your attention by brushing his knuckles down the side of your face and you paint an expression of false bravery on your face for him.

“Are you okay? You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah, Koo, I’m okay,” you assure him. “Just don’t be upset if I sink my nails into your skin and make you bleed.”

“You can do whatever you need to get through it,” he responds.

He brushes your hair away again, even more of your strands matted down after the hours of labor you’ve gone through already.

“This is it, huh? No turning back,” you say.

“Nope,” Jungkook giggles. “I can’t wait, Bams.”

“Me, either,” you reply happily.

Jungkook kisses you again, cherishing the feeling of your lips as he mentally maps the shape of your mouth and memorizes this moment. You allow the lip lock to be your final moment of rest before diving headfirst into the ordeal you fear the most. The next time your lips meet, it will be once you’ve become a family. 

“I know I’ve said it before, but you’re the best thing to ever happen to me. I love you so damn much,” Jungkook states.

“I thought you said that blowjob I gave you was the best thing to ever happen to you?”

Jungkook laughs indiscriminately, his eyes squeezing shut as his bunny teeth peak out.

“I was wrong,” he says. “It’s you, Bambi. It’s always been you.”

You smile at him in total adoration while tracing his features with your eyes, wanting to remember years from now exactly how he looked before he became a dad. 

“I love you, Jungkook, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to properly explain just how much.”

Instead of verbally replying, there are kisses spread all over your face as you giggle until your doctor returns and asks if you’re ready. When you tell her you are, she reassures you of your strength before sitting on the stool between your legs while the other nurses stand in various positions around her.

Jungkook squeezes your hand with an unknown melody and you share an affirmative glance from your periphery. You’ve been through everything under the sun together, and this is just another hurdle you know you’ll get through side by side. There’s no doubt in your mind you can do this because he’s here beside you and no one provides you with more strength and support than him.

Three consecutive, merciless contractions crash over you and you nearly turn Jungkook’s hand purple with your grasp. Your doctor informs you in a calm voice that when the third wave of pain begins to ebb you’ll start pushing. One contraction bleeds into the next, and you hear a backwards count of three before she orders you to push hard.

The pain is abundantly worse than you ever imagined. It feels like the entire lower half of your body is on fire while your insides tear themselves to shreds. You scream as hot, salty tears blur your vision and your nails bite into Jungkook’s hand. He holds your elbow with his free hand in an attempt to give you more support to steady yourself with.

The word “push” is repeated over and over as the contraction moves through you. You do as you're told for a few minutes, although it feels like hours, and then she states you’re going to pause for a moment. 

“Okay, you can stop, dear,” she instructs. 

As soon as your efforts cease, you gasp in hefty relief and fall backwards into the bed, all the while panting and trying to calm the inner workings of your body after pushing your nervous system to the brink.

“Bambi? Are you doing alright?” Jungkook asks as he brushes his fingers through your hair.  

“Fuck you, Jungkook. You’re never coming in me again,” you huff through shaky breaths. 

He chuckles and kisses your crown a couple times, making you smile despite the exhaustion and ache. 

When your doctor asks if you’re ready to continue you reply with a weak nod of your head and return to your prior position. The same sequence of events repeats for a while, but you honestly have no idea for how long because one excruciating moment just blurs into the next. There’s a particularly awful set of pushes and afterwards your doctor happily informs you the baby’s crowning and it shouldn’t take much longer. 

You brace yourself for what you know will be the worst pain yet, readjusting your hold on Jungkook’s hand as he whispers words of encouragement in your ear and kisses your sweaty cheek. 

Truthfully, all you want is to pause and climb into his lap so he can soothe the pain away as he always does, but your baby needs you, and there’s nothing you want more in the world than to hold them in your arms.

A moment later your doctor tells you to push as hard as you’re able and the loudest scream yet rips from your throat. You genuinely believe for a moment that you're being ripped in half and won’t make it out alive. The thought scares you half to death, but you force it away so you can focus on giving your child life.

“Ah! Fuck!” You wail as tears freefall from your eyes.

“One more, honey, you’re almost there,” your doctor assures you.

“You can do it, Bams,” Jungkook shouts as his arm shakes from how firmly you’re clutching his hand. 

“Ahh no, no I can’t, I can’t do it,” you cry helplessly, the pain nearly blacking out your vision. 

“Yes, you can, baby. I know that you can,” Jungkook replies. 

You weep hysterically while trying to breathe through the pain, but it feels impossible to push air from your lungs when all you feel is the overwhelming sensation of your insides ripping apart.

“Push, honey!”

Your doctor's words shove reality before you, that you only have one choice and that’s to bring your baby into the world. So, with all the strength you have left after hours of physical pain and torment, you push with all your might.

There’s an ear piercing scream which accompanies your efforts, but then your voice is drowned out by the sound of a shrill cry. 

You gasp harshly and slam into the bed when the immense pressure disperses from your bottom half. You’re left panting haphazardly as your body slows its momentum and your mind catches up to the world around you. 

The feeling of Jungkook’s fingers lacing through yours grounds you to the moment, but it’s your doctor’s voice which pulls your consciousness to the surface.

“Congratulations, you two, you have a beautiful little girl.”

“A girl?” You and Jungkook shout in unison. 

“We’re gonna clean her up and get her right back to you, alright?”

The world is spinning too fast. Everything seems to be happening at once, but you do your best to calm your mind so you can focus on your daughter and the man you love sitting beside you.

“Bambi, you did it,” Jungkook cheers as he leans over and kisses your forehead. “We have a daughter.”

You regain control of your eyes and turn towards the sound of his voice. He honestly looks just as bad as you. There are tear stains all across his face from crying over you being in pain, and fresh droplets are forming in the corners of his eyes at the news about your little girl.  

Reaching across to bring his face closer, you kiss him as ardently as you can with your strength almost entirely depleted. You’re both smiling too hard to even kiss properly, your teeth clashing as your tears of joy blend together until you don’t know whose are whose. 

You pull away when your doctor returns with your daughter wrapped in a blanket with a little pink hat on her head. She’s so tiny that you gasp in awe, your hands covering your mouth as you wait in eager anticipation for her to be placed in your arms. 

Your doctor smiles brightly at you as she hands you the little bundle of joy in her arms. 

There are truly no words to describe the feeling of holding her for the first time. It’s unbelievably surreal to think she’s the same little pumpkin growing in your womb all this time. She’s breathtakingly beautiful, with tufts of black hair just like her father’s sticking out from the edges of her hat. She has his button nose, too, but her lips and face shape seem to favor you. Her eyes are delicately shut while she sleeps peacefully in her carefully made cocoon.

“Hi, baby,” you whisper. “It feels weird holding you in my arms rather than my belly, huh?” She obviously doesn’t respond to your adoration, but you’ll speak nonsense to her all day anyway. “Oh, I love you so much already.”

Jungkook places a hand on your shoulder as he leans over to see his daughter up close. The two of you have identical watery grins as your happy tears continue to fall. 

“She’s so beautiful,” he whispers. 

“Yes, she is.” You gently caress her head and tap her little nose. “We made her, Koo.”

“For funsies.”

Laughing to the point your chest shakes, you nudge him in retaliation for possibly disturbing your little girl's slumber. He joins in your laughter and kisses the exposed skin of your shoulder where your hospital gown fell down. Your heart feels as though it’s swelling to ten times its normal size as you lean down to press the gentlest of kisses to her forehead. 

“You wanna hold her?” You ask him.

His eyes are wide with wonder as he nods his head slowly and reaches for her with adorable grabby hands. You pass her over as deftly as possible and admire the scene before you as Jungkook meets his daughter for the first time.

The sound he makes is a mixture between a gasp and a cry when he first comes face to face with her before he starts giggling endlessly, his nose scrunching up in pure bliss as more tears fall from his eyes. 

“Hi, my little one,” he coos. “I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.” You sniffle to hold back your own sentimental tears as you watch the two people you love most in the world interact. “Daddy loves you so much, little girl.” He chuckles to himself. “But we’re gonna have to talk, because you hurt Mommy and that just cannot go unpunished.”

You allow a hearty laugh to leave you now that you aren’t holding your daughter. 

“I can’t thank you enough, Bams. I’ll never be able to thank you enough, even if I spend every second of the rest of my life doing so. You made me a dad to the most beautiful little girl in the world.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Koo, because you made me a mom. You’ve loved and cared for me my entire life, and if the only way I can repay you is with her, then all this was worth it.” 

You kiss him softly, being careful not to jostle your daughter resting in his arms.

After a while of simply admiring your baby as she sleeps, your doctor informs you it’s almost time to go through afterbirth, although it should be easier since your water broke earlier. Once that’s done, they clamp the umbilical cord and allow Jungkook to cut it, which he does while smiling from ear to ear. 

It’s about an hour later when they tell Jungkook he can grab two loved ones at a time to come see you. You mutually agreed ahead of time that your mothers will be first, so he kisses you on the lips and your daughter on her forehead before heading to the waiting room to spread the magnificent news. 

Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief as he travels down the long hallway away from the delivery room, still so utterly shocked that he’s a dad and he has such a beautiful daughter. 

He also can’t believe how amazing you did. He’s positively in awe of you and what you went through to deliver your baby. It honestly pains him to leave you both even if only for a few fleeting moments. He could spend forever just staring at you and your sweet little girl. 

When the double doors open, a massive crowd of your friends and family are behind them waiting eagerly for his arrival. They all stand at once when they see Jungkook enter, and every single person shares the same anticipatory expression. 

“It’s a girl!” He announces with his arms held high above his head. 

The entire room erupts with cheers and the horde of loved ones descends on him in an excited frenzy. He feels multiple friends messing with his hair affectionately, his mom kissing his cheek, and your friends hugging his waist. It makes his heart jump for joy at the realization of how loved you, him, and your baby are already.

“How’s Y/N?” Chaewon asks once everyone gives him some room to breathe.

“She’s fucking perfect. I mean, she was just so amazing. I can’t even comprehend it,” he explains. “She couldn’t get the epidural because she lost too much blood, but she pushed through and she’s doing great.”

“She gave birth naturally?” Nayeon asks in shock.

Jungkook nods and Nayeon clutches her heart in response. 

“When can we see her and the baby?” Yoongi asks him.

“So, we can take you back two at a time. We’re gonna start with our parents, moms first, and then you guys can play rock paper scissors to figure out the order of friends,” Jungkook states.

The large group of friends immediately start turning to one another to start the tournament while Jungkook gestures with his head for his and your mom to follow him back. 

His mom clings to his arm as they walk and Jungkook throws his other one around your mom’s shoulders, placing a loving kiss on each of their heads. Both women are still crying from the happy news, but he can tell they're practically vibrating with giddiness to see you and the baby.

Jungkook opens the door for them to enter before following closely behind. Before his feet even enter the space he hears the excited gasps from the women as their eyes land on you and their grandchild.

Your mom is at your side like lightning, bending down to kiss your forehead and ask how you’re doing. You assure her you’re doing alright while offering your sleeping daughter to her. She nods like a bobble head and gently lifts the swaddled child from your arms where she was laying. 

Jungkook’s mom gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and then leans over your mom’s shoulder to meet her first grandchild. You watch endearingly as their expressions glow with warmth and affection for her while Jungkook joins you by your bedside again. When your eyes meet, you notice he’s staring at you as though you created the entire universe from scratch. The blush on your face is involuntary, and you kiss him for the umpteenth time today to hide the pink hue.

“I love you so much, baby,” Jungkook whispers in between smooches.

You plant one last peck on him.

“I love you more.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“Are we about to have our first fight as parents?”

Eventually, after your fathers meet their granddaughter, your friends begin arriving in pairs to visit you and their niece, ending with Namjoon and Jimin, which is no surprise given their terrible history with lady luck. By the time the initial pass through of all your guests comes to a close, you’re beyond exhausted, so Jungkook takes your daughter while you rest. Your doctor bids you farewell shortly beforehand and tells you the nurses will assist with nursing for the first time once you wake up. 

Upon your return to the land of the living, the three of you are admitted to an actual hospital room rather than the delivery room, which allows for more people to come see you at one time. Although, you and Jungkook decide it’s best to hold off on visitors until after you breastfeed your daughter. 

The nurses are wonderful with helping you accomplish the daunting task, and it’s honestly easier than you expected. Your little girl latches onto you with ease and although it feels funny at first, the longer she drinks from you the more soothing it becomes. Relaxing against the pillows, you shut your eyes and appreciate the newness of motherhood while feeding your daughter. Jungkook interrupts your peaceful haven with a wistful sigh as his head falls into one of his palms. 

“I’m so jealous,” he states with his eyes locked on your chest.

The slap upside the head you give him is purely on instinct.

Your loved ones all visit again over the next twenty four hours prior to your discharge from the hospital. Before departing, the nurses ask you about a name since the process is simpler to complete while you’re still here. You and Jungkook wear matching smirks while eyeing one another. Contrary to popular belief, the two of you really did know which name to choose the moment you saw her.

You, Jungkook, and Naru return home as a family for the first time, along with your parents, later that day. Bam and Usagi are downright ecstatic to see you and Jungkook’s dad has to hold Bam back from jumping on you or Jungkook, who’s holding Naru in her baby carrier. 

It’s a flurry of movement as your moms support your back during your trek upstairs to sleep the pain away while Jungkook places Naru in her crib. Your dads immediately begin cleaning to take some chores off your plate, the two of them working in tandem to wash away the sticky bodily fluid still on the kitchen floor. Once you’re out cold and Jungkook is admiring his daughter with his head resting on the edge of her crib, your parents complete some other miscellaneous tasks around the house and feed the pets before heading home. 

After they leave, Jungkook sits in the nursery rocking chair and watches with stars in his eyes as his little girl sleeps soundly in her stolen cradle. 

It’s not totally certain why you chose Naru as her name. A couple months ago, Jungkook was rattling names off a list along with their meanings, and for some unknown reason it just stuck out. You and Jungkook both loved it amongst some other girl and boy names, and shortly after she was born, you unanimously agreed to go with that one. There’s an added cuteness bonus because Naru is the name of Usagi’s best friend in Sailor Moon, and in your little familiar they’re sisters. 

The name means to become, grow, reach, or attain, and you think the meaning suits her and the two of you so perfectly. 

When you wake after some solid sleep, it’s with a sore groan as you literally roll off the mattress to check on your family. It’s still so surreal referring to yourselves that way, but a completely lovesick smile graces your lips every time you do. 

You stop in your tracks before anyone can see you once you reach the first floor, wanting to leave the beautiful scene you’re witnessing undisturbed for a while longer.

Jungkook is horizontal across the couch with his shirt open as Naru sleeps on his bare chest. He’s been absolutely dying to try skin on skin time with her after reading how beneficial it can be, and although it may be good for Naru, the sight is terrible for you because it nearly sends you into hysterics over how precious it is. Not only that, but Usagi is curled up between his legs and Bam is watching curiously from the chair next to them. If you could pause time to admire this moment for longer than the world allows, you’d do so in a heartbeat.

A few quiet minutes pass as you watch Jungkook’s gaze flit across all the tiny features of his daughter’s face with the sweetest smile on his lips. He looks utterly in love, his eyes nearly forming into hearts as he stares at her. It makes you wonder if this is what everyone means when they mention how he looks at you. 

When you finally make yourself known and pad over to the couch in your slippers, Jungkook’s face somehow lights up even more, his smile growing exponentially as you sit beside his legs.

“Hi, beautiful,” he says softly. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing alright, just sore,” you tell him. 

“Anything I can do?”

“No.” You shake your head with an enchanted smile as you brush some of his hair back and caress his cheekbone. “You’re doing everything already.”

He smiles gratefully and twists his head to kiss your wrist. The three of you remain there for a while, you and Jungkook only speaking every so often as your daughter naps peacefully and he brushes her tiny strands of hair away from her face. 

BACK TO ZERO

The low, dulcet sound of Jungkook singing in his lower register forces your eyes open. Blinking a couple times to bring your mind to reality, you turn your head to see Jungkook beside you in bed, softly singing to Naru as her cries subside and she falls into a deep slumber. 

You reach for them, running your hand along Jungkook’s bicep so he knows you’re awake. He looks at you with a saccharine smile and whispers good morning as to not disturb the child sleeping in his arms. Bending down, you place a gentle kiss on her forehead before sitting up to kiss Jungkook where he’s resting against the headboard. 

“You should’ve woken me up, Koo,” you whisper.

“It’s okay, Bambi. I got it,” he replies with an affirmative smile. 

Jungkook’s been doing more than his fair share of waking up during all hours of the night to care for your daughter, even though you originally agreed to take turns. He claims it’s because you’re still recovering from pushing her out of your body while he sat and watched, and it only makes sense for you to rest while he does the heavy lifting. You appreciate him more than words can express, but guilt still eats away at you everytime you see dark bags under his eyes from the fatigue.

Sometimes he doesn’t have a choice but to wake you, because as much as your daughter is undeniably smitten by him, sometimes a girl just needs her mother. 

If waking you is necessary, Jungkook will do so in the softest way possible, usually by pressing featherlight kisses all over your face and quietly telling you Naru needs you. Even when it’s your expertise required, he’ll follow you into the nursery while you either feed her or give her some much needed mommy and me time. Once her cries subside and she falls asleep, Jungkook will take you by the hand and tuck you into bed with a promise of a few more hours of rest. 

When she isn’t being finicky, she’ll fall asleep in seconds to the feeling of Jungkook rocking her or singing her lullabies. You genuinely believe she recognizes his voice from when he sang to her in your womb because her eyes always light up in wonder whenever he starts a new tune. 

She’s only been in your lives for a month, but somehow you love her more than anything else in the world. It’s strange for something to have a complete occupation of your heart without knowing them very long, but Naru makes it easy. Even though she can be quite the terror when she’s incessantly crying and screaming, and her diapers smell like sewage, she’s the absolute sweetest baby. When she’s being held, she always curls into the person’s chest and lays her little hand on them, or she’ll tightly grip their fingers between her tiny ones. She smiles constantly, no matter if you’re simply admiring her or playing peek-a-boo.

Naru definitely looks more like Jungkook, which is exactly what you were hoping for, although she does share some features with you. 

The first time she blinked her eyes open and you saw a twin pair of the big, boba eyes you fell in love with, you nearly weeped. In fact, they’re so large they nearly take up half her face. You’ve already captured at least a thousand pictures of them side by side, with Jungkook often forcing his eyes open wider so they match hers. 

Your phone is positively overflowing with photos from the last thirty days, mostly selfies of you and Jungkook with your beautiful daughter, pictures of just her, or secret candid shots of Jungkook holding or playing with her. His phone is much the same, at least you assume so given that he’s always pretending not to be snapping photos whenever you’re with Naru.

“What time is it?” You ask Jungkook.

“Four in the morning.”

You groan quietly enough to avoid waking the sleeping infant and stand for a bathroom break before returning to your peaceful slumber. Your body is still in shambles from the birthing process, although you’re steadily recovering. Some basic functions are still a struggle and the extreme fatigue is enough to keep you in bed all day. Jungkook’s doing his best to take care of you while also caring for Naru, but both your parents come over often to assist in whatever way they can. 

Your friends are visiting for the first time later today because they’ve been begging nonstop to see Naru again. It’s not that you didn’t want them here, but you and Jungkook felt some alone time as a family was necessary to settle into your new routine. 

Both friend groups are visiting this afternoon since Mina and Taehyung are officially dating and it’s simpler to invite everyone over at once. You’re honestly elated about seeing your friends, desperately in need of some social interaction that isn’t with a tiny human or your boyfriend. 

Referring to Jungkook as your boyfriend is quite the adjustment, especially since the illusive term doesn’t hold nearly enough weight for what he truly is to you. Best friend still feels more fitting even though there’s a platonic connotation, baby daddy lowers him to a status far beneath him, and the word partner doesn’t feel intimate enough for your connection. So, boyfriend it is for now, even though Jungkook continuously makes references to replacing the current ring on your finger with a different one. 

You always reprimand him when he makes those comments, telling him it’s way too soon for both your relationship and being parents, and he assures you he agrees, but you know your hopeless romantic best friend better than anyone, and it’s obvious he’s itching to get down on one knee. 

The thought does leave you embarrassingly giddy, but even if you did get engaged, you wouldn’t wed for a while given that no one wants to plan a wedding and raise an infant simultaneously. Right now, you’re perfectly content with your current ring and the meaning behind it. Ironically, poor Jungkook keeps muttering to himself about how he’s ever going to top it when he does pick out an actual engagement ring. 

Upon returning to bed, Jungkook purses his lips towards you and you placate him with a tender smooch before plopping into bed. Unfortunately, you aren’t comfortable for long because your breasts start to hurt from needing to either feed your daughter or pump milk for later. Since she’s currently sleeping like the little angel she is, you grab your breast pump and mirror Jungkook’s position against the headboard while the machine works its magic. 

“You always look like an alien when you do that,” Jungkook jokes. 

“Like a sexy alien or an E.T. type?”

“Totally sexy, so fucking sexy,” he replies without missing a beat.

You blush bright pink and avoid his eyes before it gets any worse. Nothing about motherhood makes you feel even remotely sexy or desirable and yet there’s still hunger in Jungkook’s eyes whenever he sees you.

His love for you is genuinely the only thing that’s gotten you through the first month of parenthood and you can’t imagine doing this with anyone else. He’s always attentive to both you and Naru, never complains when you ask him to do something, and does everything in his power to relieve the weight on your shoulders. If there's a world where he didn’t accidentally knock you up, you don’t wish to live in it. 

Eventually, you and Jungkook are able to enter dreamland again after he places Naru in her crib. When he returns to the bedroom, he pulls you into his arms from behind and you melt into his warm embrace. His lips dance along your neck, jaw, and cheek while you hum happily at the familiar sensation. It’s been difficult not having dedicated alone time since Naru was born, so you cherish moments like these when you can relax as just the two of you.

Naru’s lovely cries wake you about four hours later, and you seize the opportunity to attend to her before Jungkook can steal your turn. 

When you reach the nursery, Usagi is posted up outside the door as she often is whenever your little girl is crying. Your adorable cat has fallen head over heels for your daughter and it makes you swoon whenever they interact. Bam’s also nearby, his ears perking up when you open the nursery door and he hears Naru crying. Of the two of them he’s taken on the protector role, turning him into quite the guard dog lately. You don’t allow them inside the room, but give them both a quick rub to thank them for being so caring. 

Naru is twisting and turning in her crib as she cries, her tiny hands reaching for you as soon as you appear before her eyes.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” you coo as you scoop her up. 

Cradling her to your chest, you soothe her by patting her back while she lays her head on your shoulder and cries into your shirt. One thing about newborns is it’s easy to figure out what they need since it can only be one of two things. So, you carry her to the changing table and diligently clean her up before getting her back into her onesie. She stretches her chunky fingers at you to hold her again and you immediately oblige, rocking her in your arms as you move across the room. 

The door creaks open as you’re laying her down again, but there’s no need to turn around to know who’s entering the room. 

The suspicion is confirmed when two strong arms wrap around your middle and you feel your boyfriend’s lips on your shoulder. As Jungkook continues pressing chaste kisses to your skin, you affectionately boop your daughter’s nose and watch as an adorable yawn takes over her face and her fingers curl into tiny fists.

Jungkook is still kissing along your shoulder and up your neck, but he isn’t trying to initiate anything, his lips are caressing you in a way you know means he’s merely doing it because he loves you and to silently thank you for doing everything you do. 

Your hand travels behind your head to play with his hair, tugging on it gently so you can hear his sweet laugh in your ear. 

“Wish we could stay like this forever, Bams.”

“Me, too,” you whisper. 

Turning around in his hold, you capture his neck with both arms and yank him closer for a real kiss. Jungkook automatically tugs you into him with his fingers clutching your waist, causing your back to arch as he deepens the kiss by coaxing your mouth open. 

It’s important to make time for intimacy even if it can’t lead anywhere yet, and truth be told, your inherent need to feel his lips on yours never wanes. You wonder if this so-called honeymoon phase will ever go away or if you just love him so much that this is what forever is going to be like. 

Jungkook grabs your jaw with one hand as his tongue slips into your mouth, and if he wasn’t holding you the action would probably send you falling into Naru’s cradle. You kiss him a hundred times a day, at least, and he still manages to make your knees weak every time. The two of you moan in harmony when your tongues meet and you press yourself harder against him in response. His chest is warm and solid and you can feel his steady heartbeat beneath his shirt. 

“I love you, babygirl,” he confesses quietly. 

He’s kissing you again before you’re able to reciprocate his devotion, but you part for the sake of oxygen a moment later and leave your foreheads touching. 

“I love you, too.”

You allow Naru to sleep in peace and exit the nursery holding hands. Jungkook leads you down the hall to his bedroom, which is technically shared now. There are plans to turn what was your bedroom back into Jungkook’s office since you certainly aren’t using it anymore, and you need the space where his desk currently sits for all of your furniture. 

Waking up in Jungkook’s arms is hands down the most wonderful feeling in the world, on par with holding Naru while she smiles radiantly at you. 

Upon returning to the confines of your bedroom, Jungkook brings you into him again so he can kiss you fervently. His intensity pulls a chuckle from your lungs as you shamelessly make out in the middle of the room. 

“How many more weeks again?” He asks breathlessly, referring to when you’ll be cleared for sexual activity.

“I’m not sure, since whoever decided on six weeks clearly never pushed a child out of their vagina,” you respond. 

Jungkook giggles while leaning in to kiss you again. He graces you with one last peck before heading to grab some towels so you can prepare for the day ahead.

“Well, whenever you are ready, just know I’ll be really gentle.”

“I don’t even think you believe that, Jungkook.”

His smile is riddled with faux guilt when he returns to your side. 

“Yeah, no, that’s a total lie.”

You smack his chest with the towel in retaliation, but you’re already laughing to reveal your true feelings. The two of you head to the bathroom together, making sure to grab the baby monitor so you can hear if Naru wakes up. 

Showering together is another sparing moment when you can just be in each other’s presence without any of the noise, so it’s become routine lately. Sometimes it gets interrupted by your daughter and one of you, usually Jungkook, has to run out in a towel to console her. One time, he still had shampoo in his hair and you carefully crafted a little bun on his head so it didn’t drip into his eyes. 

Jungkook turns the water on while you brush your teeth. It’s adorably domestic and reminds you just how far you’ve come since you first moved in more than six months ago. 

Your boyfriend strips as you're washing the toothpaste from your mouth and it takes everything in you not to drool into the sink. No matter how many times you see him naked, every glance feels like the first and you go dizzy over the sight. 

“Bambi, stop ogling me,” he teases. 

“Stop looking like that, then.”

“Oh, well excuse me.”

“You’re excused,” you reply, your arms crossing over your chest in victory. 

A sly grin appears as Jungkook begins robbing you of your own clothes. He caresses your torso once you’re naked in front of him, massaging your skin with his warm fingers until he reaches your hips and squeezes them with a quiet growl.

You frown involuntarily, your usual confidence noticeably absent in the skin you’re currently wearing. Some of the baby weight is gone, about ten or so pounds, but there are stretch marks and extra skin that didn’t previously exist staring back at you in the mirror.

“What is it, Bams?” He asks with evident concern. 

There’s confusion over your negative reaction painting Jungkook’s features as he eyes you inquisitively. 

“It’s unfair,” you pout. 

“What is, baby?” 

Your chin is pitched up by Jungkook’s pointer finger so he can watch your expressions when you respond. 

“How sexy you are,” you answer.

“Unfair to whom? I’m yours, aren’t I?” 

Blush creeps across your bare chest and neck, but his sweet words still don’t dispel your insecurities.

“Yeah, but I’m all flabby and misshapen while you still look freaking perfect.”

“Bambi, you look beyond perfect. There’s nothing that could make you not the most beautiful woman in the world,” Jungkook states earnestly.

“You’re only saying that because you’re in love with me,” you argue.

“No, no,” Jungkook says with a shake of his head. “I thought that long before I fell in love with you, Bams.” He can sense your disbelief, so he bends his knees until he’s staring directly into your eyes. “Do I need to kiss every inch of you to prove it? Because I fucking will.”

“No,” you mumble. His knuckles brush your cheekbone and you sigh. “I’m sorry, I just don’t feel like myself right now, you know?” 

“No need to apologize, baby, just tell me how to help and I will.” 

His everlasting love and consideration for you bring a smile to your face and you kiss him briefly before leading him towards the shower.

“You don’t need to do anything more than you already are,” you tell him. “And maybe once I’m fully recovered you can bring me with you to the gym so I can get back to normal faster.” 

Jungkook enthusiastically nods at your proposal of working out together. He’s been begging you for a while to join him at the gym, mostly because he wants to do push ups over you and kiss you everytime he goes down.

He holds you steady via a hand on your waist as you enter the shower before joining you under the falling water, keeping your back pressed to his chest while the steam encompasses you both. His lips find your neck as he slowly kisses across your wet skin, except unlike before, there’s fire behind his touch as he ravishes you in sensual affection. The water drenching you both only serves to up the intensity, the feeling of him licking up the droplets while he sucks on your throat sending you into euphoric bliss.

“Koo,” you moan, leaning your head on his shoulder as your eyes shut.

“Just because I can’t fuck you doesn’t mean I won’t make you feel good, babygirl,” he tells you. 

Which is precisely what he does as he continues kissing you in all the spots he knows drive you crazy while his hands caress you everywhere within reach. They eventually find purchase on your tits and he tactfully massages them in his big hands. 

His touch turns your brain to mush, your mind descending into a pool of pleasure as you relish in the sensation of his hands on you. It takes all your willpower not to say fuck it and let him push his cock into your cunt. If there wasn’t an adorable little girl who’ll be waking up soon, you’d let him manhandle you for hours until the water runs ice cold. 

You turn around abruptly upon deciding you want to taste him rather than feel him, and Jungkook catches on instantly, walking you both under the showerhead until your back meets the wall as his lips descend on yours. 

The kiss is deliciously sloppy from the combination of tongues chasing each other and water pouring down. Your hands rake into Jungkook’s dripping strands of black hair as you moan unabashedly into his mouth. One of Jungkook’s hands slams on the shower wall beside your head while the other catches your waist to keep your body pressed to his. Everything about it feels absolutely filthy even though you’re in a place meant for cleanliness. 

“I didn’t even know it was possible to want someone like this,” Jungkook whispers. “All the goddamn fucking time, baby.”

“Me, either,” you reply through a moan as Jungkook begins kissing down your neck again. “I don’t know how we went so long without it.”

He laughs while shaking his head where it resides in the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“Because we’re idiots.”

There’s only a split second between his response and his lips latching onto your nipple, his hand inching up your spine to fondle the opposite breast. It forces a gasp out of you as you desperately grasp his hair in your hands. He plays with your tits in sync, sucking on your pebbled nub in perfect time with the movement of his fingers. An incoherent curse passes through your lips when his ministrations cause you to lactate into his mouth, and he groans in delight as he laps up the milk coming from your nipple with his tongue. The act is supremely messy because Jungkook is purposely missing some of your breast milk so he can lick it off your skin before the water washes it away.

He alternates between drinking straight from the source and allowing his tongue to collect it, but neither choice is better for your sanity. This isn’t the first time he’s acted upon his insatiable urges, just last week he wrapped his lips around your nipple after you were forced awake at three in the morning to check on Naru. The feeling of him sucking on you while you lactate was strange initially, but after a moment it made your head spin with pleasure as he played with your tits and fed himself from your body. 

“Fuck, Koo.” 

Your head hits the shower tile while he moans pathetically around your nipple.

“I’ll apologize to our daughter for stealing her food later,” he mumbles into your skin.

You chuckle and Jungkook naturally smiles just from the sound of your happiness. He leaves a final kiss on your breast before returning to your lips with a satisfied hum. 

You’ve never had shower sex before and unfortunately, today won’t be the day, but after this it’s certainly going on your list. 

Your lips continue clashing while you caress each other for an unknown amount of time, but when you do finally catch your breath, the water has begun cooling down. There’s a major responsibility to someone other than yourselves looming outside the bathroom door, so you stop being sexual deviants and actually wash up for the day. 

Jungkook pours some soap on your luffa so he can work it into your skin, not missing a single inch as he glides the sponge along your body. You do the same for him while he gathers shampoo in his hands and starts cleansing your hair. 

He’s sporting the most adorable look of concentration while he scrubs the shampoo on your scalp until it turns to suds. Repeating the motions on his own hair, you dig your nails between his strands and make him whine from the soothing sensation on his head. The two of you finish up quickly, turning off the water and handing each other your respective towels to dry off.

After getting dressed, you return to Naru’s nursery to wake her up and feed her. Ironically, you have to bottle feed her because Jungkook used up all the milk collecting in your breasts for her morning meal. She looks positively delighted to see you once she’s awake, a heart stopping giggle coming from her tiny body as you pick her up. 

Jungkook says he’ll prepare for your guests to arrive while you care for Naru, which includes dolling her up for her visitors. You don’t normally dress her in actual clothes, usually leaving her in a onesie for simplicity, but you want your friends to see her in some of the clothes they bought her. When she naps, you always swaddle her in the blanket Chaewon made and most of her toys come from your friends. 

You trudge downstairs with her resting on your shoulder to find Jungkook cleaning up some lingering dishes in the kitchen. Bam bounds over excitedly to greet you and you use your free hand to throw his bone across the room after petting his head. Usagi follows close behind at your feet, per usual, her big eyes staring up at you and Naru as you walk towards the kitchen. 

There’s a blindingly bright smile on Jungkook’s face when you enter the room and he instinctively gestures for your daughter. Gladly passing her over, you watch in endearment as he nuzzles his nose against hers and she makes an adorable cooing sound. 

“Hi, pretty girl,” he says in his baby voice. She giggles and reaches for his cheeks at the sound of him praising her. “Yeah? You want your daddy?” 

Her giggles grow louder when he blows raspberries on each of her chubby cheeks. She cuddles up against his chest as he holds her close, her eyes shutting serenely at the feeling of her dad’s warmth surrounding her. Jungkook bounces her in his arms which causes her to smile adoringly at him and her little toothless grin makes your heart sing. 

You automatically take over for him on the chore front since Naru clearly wants some daddy-daughter time. 

When she wakes up after falling asleep in Jungkook’s warm embrace, it’s obvious she’s uncomfortable and needs her diaper changed. You never predicted being able to tell which cries mean what, but you’ve memorized every single noise she makes at this point. Jungkook volunteers for dumpster duty while you finish up downstairs. 

When they return, she’s still crying incessantly, only it’s soft whimpers you both know mean she wants her mommy. Jungkook gracefully hands her to you, ensuring she’s secure in your arms before letting go. You bring her to the couch and lay her in your lap, holding her little hands and moving them in circles to soothe her.

“Hi, sweet Naru.” Her cries diminish as soon as she hears your voice. “I love you so much, my darling girl. Yeah, that’s right.” 

She makes the cutest baby sound imaginable and squeezes your fingers to the best of her ability. You coo in adoration and bend down to kiss her tummy so she giggles even more. Jungkook clicks his tongue over your shoulder. 

“I always think she’s such a daddy’s girl until you get your hands on her,” he comments. 

“She is a daddy’s girl, Koo. In fact, she may be more obsessed with you than I am.” You boop her nose and her smile grows while she sticks her tongue out. “Isn’t that right, Naru? Mommy’s gonna have to fight you for him, aren’t I, little girl?”

The noise she makes sounds suspiciously like a yes. Jungkook blushes deep red, his love for his daughter physically manifesting on his cheeks. 

“I love her more than anything, but you’ll always be my girl, Bams,” he says with a kiss to your cheek.

An hour later the first of your guests arrives. You purposely told them all different times, in about ten minute increments, so everyone gets devoted time with Naru without fighting over her. Jihyo is first, and she has enough gifts in her hands to fill the entire nursery. She squeals and jumps a couple inches off the ground in delight when you appear before her with Naru. The gift bags fall to the floor with a plop as she extends her arms to take her niece from you. 

“Naru, my sweetheart!” She cheers.

You and Jungkook are able to take a much needed parenting reprieve as your friends slowly pile in and pass your daughter around like a hot potato. Once all thirteen of them have arrived, everyone spreads out between the living room and the kitchen. 

Naru is currently sound asleep in Yoongi’s arms, the usually expressionless man wearing a face of complete joy as he watches her with his gummy smile even though she’s not awake to return it. 

“I still don’t understand how the youngest of us is a dad before anyone else,” Jin says as he chews on his slice of pizza.

“Because he’s a doofus,” Jimin responds. 

“Hey! I may be a doofus, but I took part in making the cutest little girl ever,” Jungkook defends himself. “In fact, you could say I’m about fifty percent of the reason she’s so adorable!”

“Kook, you got to creampie the hottest woman we all know and then magically have a child nine months later. I’ll give you five percent tops,” Chaewon argues. 

Everyone chuckles at Chaewon’s extremely high level overview of pregnancy.

“She seems really well behaved,” Yunjin comments. 

“She is,” you say proudly. “Naru is a little angel.”

“You won’t be saying that in a few months,” Namjoon says. “She’ll be a demon once she starts teething.”

“Oh, remind me not to visit around then,” Hoseok adds.

As if she heard them talking smack about her, Naru wakes up and begins fussing around in Yoongi’s arms. His eyes go wide at the foreign behavior and he immediately locks eyes with Jungkook across the room for assistance. Your boyfriend smiles at his friend’s nervousness and goes to grab your daughter before she starts crying 

When she instantaneously settles down at the feeling of Jungkook holding her, all seven girls harmoniously gasp in awe. 

“Oh my gosh, she loves you, Jeon!” Eunchae states. 

“I would sure hope so,” he replies with a proud grin. 

He kisses her head a couple times and she nuzzles against his shoulder, tucking her face into his neck and laying her adorable, chunky, baby hand on his chest. 

“Wow, never thought I’d see the day,” Taehyung notes from where he sits with a hand on Mina’s thigh.

“So, who’s next? I think Naru needs a playmate, right?” Nayeon asks the room, her eyebrows rising when she meets Mina’s gaze. 

Mina aggressively shakes her head while putting her hands up in surrender.

“Nuh uh, not yet, especially not after hearing about what Y/N went through,” she states.

“How are you doing, Y/N?” Tzuyu changes the subject to ask.

“I’m recovering, some days are worse than others,” you answer. “I honestly thought I was going to die.”

“I still can’t believe you did it without any pain meds,” Chaewon says with a shake of her head. 

“You and me both.”

“It was genuinely pure magic,” Jungkook comments, his hand gently patting Naru’s back. “She’s a fucking goddess.”

You send him a charming smile from across the room and he blows a kiss at you in return. 

“It was worth it, that’s all I know,” you respond.

“It totally was, look at your little girl! She’s perfect,” Eunchae says. 

“We can only hope the rest of us schmucks make children as lovely as Naru someday,” Jimin states while holding his glass up to cheers. “To our niece!”

Everyone raises their own glasses in solidarity, except for Jungkook, who lifts Naru up Lion King-style as she giggles and kicks her little feet in joy. 

The night continues with Naru being passed around the room a couple more times. She seems to enjoy her uncle Jin the most, probably because he’s an expert at making funny faces that cause her to cheerfully scream and laugh. Jihyo also garners much of her attention, with Naru making grabby hands at her every so often. Mina jokes it’s because Jihyo has big tits and your daughter is getting her confused with a source of nutrients. 

Your friends eventually say their goodbyes until all that remains are the vast amount of gifts they brought. You and Jungkook mutually agree to put them away in the morning and use this precious time for quality family bonding in bed. 

The two of you lay on your stomachs with Naru between you on the mattress. You both take turns tickling her and blowing raspberries on her stomach and thighs just to hear the perfect laugh you adore so much. It feels like pure, unadulterated bliss, and with Bam and Usagi both curled up by your feet, you feel utterly complete as a little family of five. 

Resting your head on your arm, you gaze at Jungkook as he admires his little girl. The adoration in his sparkling eyes makes you feel eternally grateful to your past self for the decision she made. Here you thought you were sleeping with Jungkook just to try it, and now your heart is reborn in more ways than one. It’s swollen to max capacity with both romantic love for your best friend and unconditional love for your daughter. 

Jungkook notices your stare and raises an eyebrow at you. When you don’t respond, he leans over Naru to kiss you and pull you from your reverie.  

“You gonna tell me why you’re looking at me like that, Bambi?” 

You shake your head.

“I don’t have to because you already know,” you respond. 

He smiles beautifully and tucks some of your hair behind your ear. 

“Yeah, I do.”

Jungkook kisses you again, smoothly gliding his lips over yours while he pours his love for you into the gesture. Ardently returning his kiss, you caress his cheek with one hand and move your lips in a gentle harmony with his. Your foreheads meet after pulling away and upon looking sideways, you see Naru playfully rolling side to side between you. You share a heartwarming laugh at her mannerisms, both of you so completely taken by your daughter and each other. 

“I’m so glad I asked you to try something new that night, Bams. Now we get to do everything together for the rest of our lives, starting with parenting.”

“Mm, same here, Koo.” You lean back and rest your head in your hand. “I wonder what other new stuff we’ll get up to.”

Jungkook hums inquisitively and tongues his cheek as he ponders his answer, but then his eyes light up with a mischievous grin. 

“Marriage?”

Taglist: @lovingkoalaface @starcandybby @junniesoleilkth @keylime4eva @kissyfacekoo @rpwprpwprpwprw @spideyjimin @jjeonjjk7 @joonlover1207 @annpeachy @rexana19 @heartwith0uthe @kosmos1307 @minyoongi7016 @magicalnachocreator @misschelliejeon @bubblyi3 @bhonbhon @polnaraffsrack @amarawayne @majesticjung-97 @kmpj9 @upo1313 @songbyeonkim @kikikaaa @glowjuli @avawants2havefun @hyeinwluv85s @someonegoood @kyljjk @lalaren @dna2723 @tteokbokibyjk @tatyhend @kookienooki @ana-marais98 @gimeow @importantflowersblog43 @minghaosimp @belleilichil @neurospicynugget @missdumpling190811 @jungkooksnerniemilk @imhereonlytoreadxoxo @kayswatanabe @fancypeacepersona @jeonsgf-97 @star-my @neg-l3ct @kelsyx33

[cowbell-ghuleh]

So the Q&A. Here's what I can remember:

Perpetua's personality

Tobias still doesn't know / said it's up to interpretation. (A bit of a green light to fanfic writers etc. to do whatever they want with him!)

Phone bans

Apparently he didn't get "physical pushback" to the idea of a phone ban but it seems management etc. were concerned about how feasible it was.

He said something along the lines of people were not happy it'd "make things harder".

He also talked about how the phones have really dampened the energy of crowds in normally really engaged countries, and how performing to a disengaged crowd just wasn't worth it to him or the other band members.

Influences when writing Skeleta...

Most interesting thing I can remember is that he wrote Skeleta with the concept of a seventies band navigating their way into the 80s and not quite knowing what to do, while at the same time they were experimenting with new technology such as synths. The example he brought up was Blue Oyster Cult.

There was a funny line about the synth note at the beginning of some songs (can't remember if he meant his songs or actual early 80s bands) basically just being someone Messing around with a synth keyboard for the first time and just pressing the first note they see...

He talked about how a lot of seventies bands basically disappeared/ fell out of popularity in the 80s and how a lot of 80s bands disappeared in the 90s... And how the bands that survived kinda had to learn to navigate the new trends / adapt to the new decade.

Advice for newer bands.

He talked about having to commit to or stay true to an idea a younger version of yourself had. He compared it to running a Cajun( Caijin? I'm not sure how to spell it) restaurant, you have to use the Caijin spices but the decorations etc. can change/ you can add to them.

Also mentioned finding joy in the parts of touring that wasn't performing.

He also talked about new bands have to be willing to perform to an empty bar or on the corner of a street, and emphasised how important it was to get yourself out there and start playing to a live audience.

----

A lot of the questions kinda repeated stuff that's been said already on interviews. There were some people calling out / talking back to him but he honestly didn't seem to mind (at least one or two of the folk cutting in were fairly young children, so that's to be expected...)

Here's my two terrible photographs...

[nayrawrites]

Wanda Maximoff x Fem Oc

Title: Three Simple Knocks

Summary:

Wanda unexpectedly gets a new roommate, and doesn’t know that the stranger isn’t who she claims to be. Secretly, the woman is there to give Wanda Maximoff the happy ending she deserves

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female OC

Status: Ongoing

Words: 23k+

Tags: strangers to lovers, roommates, slowburn, soulmates

Ao3:

Wattpad:

Chapter 1: A Stranger

The weirdest things happen on the most ordinary days.

And it was one of those ordinary days when the witch heard a knock on her untouched door. Just three simple consecutive thuds on dusty wood. The sound of it was so unknown to her, it took a while until she was capable of placing it.

The visitor waited patiently, as Wanda made her way to the door in caution, her steps hesitant. She'd never really liked visitors and she liked the unannounced kind even less.

It could've been anyone from S.W.O.R.D. or maybe even a former colleague from her time as an Avenger — though that was unlikely, given how little of them were left, and how even less of them cared to think about her.

She turned the knob and opened the door. However, she was not greeted by either of those options —at least not to her knowledge. Instead, she was facing a beautiful woman in simple attire. Quite young, or maybe that assumption was just the effects of the vibrant energy she exuded.

"Can I help you?"

"Hey, yeah, it's me," silence. The smile she was sporting grew more awkward. the longer the silence stretched. "I'm Lucy." she clarified.

Wanda raised an eyebrow in confusion, as she scrutinized the woman in front of her. But there was no way Wanda knew the stranger.

"What do you want?", no matter how friendly the almost forced smile was, Wanda was not going to let it fool her.

"Oh, didn't Clint tell you? He said I could crash here." Only now did the witch notice the yellow backpack almost slipping down from one of the shoulders and the slightly bigger suitcase leaning against the wall of the house.

"Kinda figured he'd have sorted that out with you first...", she trailed off.

Her stern resolve falters slightly at the mention of him. Though that only added to the prominent confusion.

"Clint Barton, guy with an arrow, hearing aid?" The woman nodded hastily at the description. If the situation had been different, the uncanny resemblance to a bobblehead would've been pretty amusing. But the situation wasn't different and ever since her last fiasco, Wanda had to be on guard.

"Why would he say you could crash here?"

Ever since the funeral, Clint and her hadn't really stayed in touch. She didn't mind. She knew the loss they had both suffered and she also knew that he would use up all his time to be with his family. Five years was a lot to catch up on. She would have done the same.

After the events of the Westview Anomaly, he had texted her.

It'll be okay.

That was all it said and quite frankly, it was enough for her to break down. She assumed, he most likely waited for her to call him, not wanting to pressure her into confiding in him, but the call never came. It's not like she didn't try but no matter how long her thumb hovered over the call button, she couldn't ever actually make herself take that leap. She was too ashamed. And she was too afraid he'd think that sentiment was deserved.

So maybe it wasn't too far fetched for him to send someone. Perhaps this was his way of calling her.

"Well, I'm new here and don't really have...anything actually," she chuckled awkwardly, "Clint found out through a mutual friend and said you'd have some space." Lucy explained.

"You sure he didn't mention me?"

The witch resisted massaging her temple at the womans babbling and just motioned for her to come inside. This required a cup of tea, or five.

"I think I'd have remembered, if he did." She watched Lucy grab her belongings and rush through the door with a small smile on her face. One step closer to the goal, she supposed.

As Wanda closed the door behind Lucy, she pulled her phone out of her back pocket and gestured with her hand to another door further down the house.

"I gotta make a call. Just- stay.", at this point, she could've told her to fetch a stick or walk in a circle too, but she just shook her head and left the room.

Now that she was alone, her back slumped against the door, she took a second to herself and just breathed. She wasn't sure, if she needed that second because she was just blindsided with that strange woman or because she knew, she had to contact Clint now.

Most likely the latter.

Her finger hovered over the call button yet again, and she hated it. Hated her hesitance.

God, just do it.

So she finally did, her phone now resting against her ear, as she waited. Wanda always disliked the beeping of a ringing phone and the anticipation during it. She just wanted to get it over with. The call, however, almost immediately went to voicemail. She tried dialing his phone number two more times but it was of no use.

Sighing in defeat, the redhead went back to the living room, where she left Lucy.

The woman in question was busy inspecting the coat rack, her luggage tossed next to the front door.

"Nice red jacket," she commented, before turning around to face Wanda.

"Thanks, I guess."

She never actually got to give it back to Nat.

"Listen...Lucy, was it? You can't stay here." short but at least straight to the point.

Wow, she could've at least pretended to think about it, Lucy thought.

This was probably the first time she saw an expression that didn't include a smile on her face, her mouth parted and eyes widened instead.

"What? But Clint-"

"I can't reach him and he didn't ask. I don't know what he was thinking but this isn't a bed and breakfast. If what you're claiming is even true." The raise in her voice was more imminent by the end but Lucy didn't let that rattle her. It's not like she had any other options after all.

"It's true! Have I ever lied to you?", she protested.

"Well, no, but we also just met, so."

"Fair point." she sighed.

Lucy took a couple steps closer towards the uneasy woman, her hands lifted, to show that she came in peace. "Wanda, please. I-I could help out around the house, you know, I make a mean bowl of instant ramen. And it won't even be that long. Just until I find something else."

The pleading look was hard to resist but Wanda didn't know her and there was no way to confirm her story. Oh, how easy it would've been to just slip inside her mind for a second. Yet she knew she couldn't do that. She wouldn't, not after Westview. It was her own rule ever since. In no way would it ever redeem herself for all the pain she caused, but it was a start. Besides, it was already difficult enough focusing on her own mind.

Nevertheless, that meant she could only rely on whatever Lucy was claiming unil she got a hold of Clint.

Pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers, she stepped closer to Lucy and looked at her. She could sense the awkwardness it caused in the woman but chose to ignore it, too busy with making a decision.

She examined her, starting from the dark hair, reaching barely past her shoulders, and trailed her eyes lower, ending at the minions socks on her feet.

If she ever looked back on this moment, she would probably admit that this was the reason for what she was about to say.

"Fine, you can stay."

A woman with a pair of minion socks couldn't possibly harm someone.

She really hoped she was right.

Lucy let out the breath she was holding and a bright grin adorned her face. She clasped her hands together in exuberant glee.

"Yay," a tad too much excitement, "you won't regret it, I promise."

And there was something —maybe a glint in her eye, that showed the determination and certainty behind that declaration.

Wanda almost believed it.

If you liked it, feel free to check out the whole ongoing fic

[dualityvn]

Okay I'm over the moon with the new update!!! I've played as much of it as possible but with how many options you put especially with the nsfw it didn't fit in my time yet. I'm writing this from work anyway lol.

First of all: THE DESIGNS!!! I thought I'd drop my hat with how good they looked especially with the few new poses!!! Tenebris still looks a good mix of cute and "scary" and Keith — his face is really sweet, that's all I'm saying with my name intact. I love how your art now has cleaner, thinner lines and a more lively shading(don't get me wrong I loved it always but it's just noticeable that you improved, especially with seeing Keith standing next to Melissa(? I'm at the moment praying I got the name right) who still has the old art style). The backgrounds seem interesting? They look amazing and very fitting for the game!!! It's just a little weird for them, especially the forest to not be colourful but it just takes getting used to. Now,:

DAY 5 SPOILERS

I really love how the story went forward, I like that seemingly the fae are more up our ass for some reason maybe besides hanging with the boys. The glitchy effects and those eyes? Perfect! Scared the living spirit out of me at first so it works well. I'm a little confused about us being able to sense Keith's thoughts but like only in one rout? Like I'm not sure how that's possible or why that didn't happen with Tenebris or maybe I just skipped something accidentally, but oh lord that was so nice!!! To kinda know what Keith is thinking?? Chef's kiss. I feel like in those thoughts more was shown of what we've seen here on the blog kinda? Especially when in that moment before having s-x(does tumblr have an issue with these words? Idk) he was worried we'd leave in the morning. Some of these small things really said more about his character. Although the nsfw scenes were ofc hot, I did enjoy more so how especially some of them gave a bit lore actually intimacy? Especially with before and after some small moments were just so sweet. (Ofc out of players curiosity I let my MC snoop a bit in some rounds and Keith's dairy? Damn it's sweet but holy f—, Tenebris's lil box is just kinda sweet/sad but it was such a nice little detail) The non nsfw routes actually struck me a little more this time tho. Tenebris being afraid of thunder is of course something I remembered from here but it's still adorable. Seeing him actually be a little more open and cuddly is always welcome, and the fact he purrs is still my favourite. With Keith's moments again I feel it's more of what we know from here put into the game, like how his parents don't see him much because of how raising them was, him trying to mold into an "easier" person and make up for the "trouble" of being around them. It honestly broke my heart a little cus I just would've wanted to hug him and tell him he's worth having supernatural beings wanting us dead(I'm happy we got to comfort him!!!). And I was quite shocked they killed that thing, from both of them, Keith a little more but still. I'm not quite sure about their reactions afterwards since both confused me a little but I'm sure I'll understand with time or from here. Keith's eyes getting red was sure something that surprised me but it's an interesting part. I did not all understand Tenebris's end, the getting sick? I guess stress can do that but asking us what we are and being scared? What the hell did he see/what happened?? I'm so intrigued with this story!

All together I'm really happy the boys are getting more comfortable/open and the story progress always has me on the edge, I loved the update for sure!!!(This doesn't necessarily need a reply, I just wanted to point out what I liked[and maybe gush about it] a little)

Hope you rest a lot after this!! Take care Nightmare ❤️🍒

Aaaa, this was a delight to read. Thank you so much! I'm very happy you enjoyed this update!!

Sensing Keith’s thoughts is something that happens because of a combination of narrative convenience and the general chaos of Date 5 as a whole.

And yes, the endings will become a little more clear in the next update.

[thechildofshadows]

I WISH I WAS SPECIAL

Avery Grambs x Jameson Hawthorne - 1.9k

masterlist · ao3 link

bear with me, this WIP has been in my drafts since March and I'm finally putting it out, because its existence is blocking any and all creative flow I had. (The title is from Creep by Radiohead!) if you saw this before on ao3, no you didn't, but it's okay, you can read it again. So we never actually saw how Avery told Jameson that Eve existed. So ... here's a fic. TRIGGER WARNING- EVE MENTIONS but she's not actually present with dialogue. And after this, they go and invent their little code phrase for trauma dumping. happy reading!

2:32 am. No new notifications.

Avery flopped back onto the pillow. It was 2am. Her thoughts had plagued her since she’d gone to bed three hours ago, and had no intention of stopping.

Hawthorne House was eerily quiet that day, and Avery was usually asleep or distracted at this time, but tonight she was neither, and she was completely lost on what to do.

She considered leaving her room for Libby’s, but decided otherwise. She still had no idea where Nash slept. God forbid she interrupt romance. Libby's not-a-relationship was progressing quickly enough. 

Jameson had been out for the last month, looking at potential colleges in other parts of the US and Europe. He'd told Avery he was planning to take a gap year, but he'd wanted to see what the world had to offer.

They'd video called every day in the dead of the night.

Jameson had returned to Hawthorne House earlier that day, but at the time, Avery was at a lunch with potential investors, and hadn't been able to see him come home. When she came back two hours later, Xander told her that Jameson fell asleep as soon as he'd gotten back. 

Avery didn't think he'd wake up for a while; jet lag hit hard, especially when you haven't consistently been in one time zone for three days, which was why she made the decision to go to the roof.

She'd spent a few days in the last month quietly staring at the sky on the roof, and found that she quite liked it.

With Jameson back, it was almost guaranteed she wouldn't have the roof to herself. It was where she'd met him, and it was the place she was most likely to find him. It had been his daily haunt first.

If he'd stayed asleep, she would get the night sky and fresh air to herself. If he'd woken up and gone upstairs, Avery would see him.

Definitely a win-win situation.

Which was how Avery found her half-asleep self climbing up multiple staircases and going through passages to stare at a very tall ladder, leading to a hatch in the ceiling. Avery tucked her blanket over her shoulders and climbed the distance. She pushed on the hatch, and reached out to touch the roof, tossing the blanket a few feet away. She pulled herself up, arms straining slightly with the effort, and -

“Steady, Heiress.” A hand reached out, and Avery gratefully accepted it. Jameson helped her out and kicked the door closed.

The first thing Avery noticed was that Jameson was very shirtless, and had very toned abs. Europe had definitely treated him well; he was perfectly tanned and had gained a bit more muscle.

The second thing she noticed was how cold it was, and she turned to find Jameson picking up the blanket she’d brought.

“Thanks for blanket delivery.” he said, running a hand across the soft fabric. “I like this one.”

Avery rolled her eyes, but there was only amusement behind it. “In your dreams, Hawthorne.”

She made to take the blanket from him, but he raised it up above her reach. “Oh no, this is mine now.”

His eyes glinted with mischief, challenging her to try again, and she grinned back in kind.

Rather than making another grab at the blanket, Avery hooked her arms around his neck. His eyes widened, just a little, but enough for Avery to take advantage of.

“You asked for it.” she said, before meeting his lips with hers.

The month apart had sent Avery back to square one. Everything Jameson did with his hands, lips, body felt new. One hand made its way into her hair, gently pulling her head backwards. The other held onto her hip, as she arched her back.

They broke apart, panting, and he rested his forehead against hers. “Hey.”

Avery slowly blinked. “Hi.”

“Long time no see.”

“One could say that.” Avery reached down, and picked up the discarded blanket. “I’ll be taking that back.”

Jameson gave her a trademark Hawthorne smirk, and she felt a tingle go down her spine. “Whatever you say, Heiress.” He sat down on the roof, legs dangling off the edge, and patted on the area next to him, prompting her to sit with him.

Avery sat to his right. She gave him one half of the blanket, and he pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. As she nestled into his side, Avery wondered why she brought a blanket in the first place. Jameson had always run warm, and summer nights in Texas had never exactly been cold.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you, but you’re not exactly a regular visitor here, Heiress.” he said.

“It’s peaceful here,” she said. “Or it was-in the last month.”

He winked. “Never a dull moment with a Hawthorne around.”

Avery had to agree. She’d experienced some of the best moments of her life, she realized. 

But also some of the worst.

Jameson caught her mood change. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.”

“And you’re up so late because …?”

“You’re up late.”

“I was in Europe, and I got my eight hours of sleep today. You didn’t do either.”

She shrugged, looking down at the gardens of Hawthorne House. “Couldn’t sleep.” She could feel his eyes trained on her, but she stubbornly kept her head down. 

“Nightmares?” He asked.

Avery shook her head. “Thoughts.”

Jameson didn’t respond, but his presence said what his words did, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Toby Hawthorne had a daughter.” she blurted out.

She felt Jameson’s body stiffen. “The DNA test-“

“It was right. It’s not me. Her name is Evelyn, but she goes by Eve.”

Jameson gave a small laugh. “It’s a palindrome.”

“She picked it for herself.”

He hummed in response, then took a look down at Avery. “There’s more.”

She swallowed. “There is.”

When she didn’t respond, he shook his head and sighed. Jameson removed the blanket and tucked it around her. The sudden loss of heat made her burrow further into the blanket. He moved his body to face her, straddling the ledge of the roof. Avery crossed her legs beneath her and turned, staring at her hands on her lap.

“Don’t keep secrets from me, Heiress.”

“Like you don’t, all the time?” She glared. “I can’t be vulnerable to a bank vault.”

He was quiet for some time, and Avery wondered if he’d finally given up. Just as she was about to get up, he responded, almost too quietly for her to hear. “Then we do it together.”

What? She looked up in surprise.

Jameson’s poker face was intact as ever, but she could sense a hint of excitement through his eyes and voice. “The thing about bank vaults is that they can be broken into, multiple times. At that point, it’s probably not worth using anymore, but the vulnerability is reinforced and tested again.” His fingers drummed a complicated beat on the stone. “I’ve been broken before. We can help each other.”

This definitely wasn’t the same person Avery had met that fateful day on this very rooftop. But it was at the same time. He was still effortlessly charming, a flirt, a brilliant mind- but he was more thoughtful, more caring, and definitely much more careful. She didn’t know if the change had been made conciously, and she wondered if it had hurt something inside of him to be a different person.

Avery looked back down at her lap. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to; he understood she needed time to phrase it, and he simply waited, his presence giving her warmth and comfort.

“She looks exactly like Emily Laughlin.” Jameson froze. “Right down to the hair.”

“Gray’s gonna have the time of his life when he figures that out.” Jameson muttered.

Avery knew he wasn’t going to tell Grayson unless she permitted it, but her concern was fixated otherwise. “And you?”

Jameson’s fingers returned to the steady drumbeat. There was silence, and then-

“I dont know.” He fell quiet and continued. “Maybe I should feel something, but Emily left. I made some kind of fucked up peace with it, and … I don’t know. I have you; I don’t want to feel anything, but … I just don’t know.”

Raw emotion echoed throughout his eyes, and Avery didn’t know how to respond. Jameson had never told her anything like this before - the last time he’d been somewhat vulnerable was when she woke up from the coma, and Avery hadn’t known what to do then either.

She settled for placing a hand on his knee. “We all move at different speeds.” Jameson nodded, eyes closed.

The silence settled comfortably around them, until he peeked one eye open. “Tell me everything means tell me everything. You’re hiding something.” It wasn’t a question and she knew it.

Avery had wanted to tell someone this for a long time. Toby, Sheffield Grayson (before his death), Eve’s siblings had both known every detail Avery had just told Jameson. She’d kept to herself her true thoughts on the topic, and it had been the reason she hadn’t slept for nearly a week. As she gathered her thoughts, she felt tears prick her eyes.

“Eve- she’s actually a Hawthorne. She’s the one who should’ve inherited all of this money. She’s the one your grandfather should’ve picked.” Avery finally looked at him. She blinked, and felt tears trail down her cheek. Jameson’s brow was furrowed, but she couldn’t tell if it was out of pity or concern.

Probably both. Only one person in the world is complaining about their billion dollar handout and it’s me.

“I’m not cut out for any of this. I’m not pretty, I don’t know the first thing about running a multi-billion dollar company. I can’t do PR. I don’t even know the first thing about stocks!” She buried her face in her hands.

“Heiress.” Jameson tried. “Avery.” She didn’t respond. “The old man had a reason for everything. He didn’t want Eve. Only one of you knew my uncle, and only one of you was trusted to inherit his entire damn fortune.”

“Toby didn’t know that Eve existed. What are the chances your grandfather didn’t either?“ The sound was muffled, but he understood every word.

Jameson’s eyebrows flew into his hair. “The old man knew what he was doing. He tracked every single part of Toby’s life that he did and didn’t cover up. That includes one night stands, drunk or otherwise.” He paused, looking out into the garden. “He knew more about a person than the person knew about themselves. He wanted you, Avery. Because he knew you were what was going to heal this family.”

“But-“

“But what? Our blood doesn’t make us who we are. Look at Gray. He’s the only son of Sheffield Grayson and my mother, but he’s a better man than either would have ever been. You may not share our blood, or the name, but you have the mind of a Hawthorne. In this family, we value this,” -He tapped her head- “more than we value looks.”

Jameson gently moved her hands away from her face and lifted her chin, forcing him to look at her. He used his other hand to wipe away the tear tracks on her cheek. “You’re a Hawthorne through and through, Avery. Any Hawthorne worth their salt would be an idiot to not call you family.” He placed a kiss on her forehead, then manuevered himself to be able to wrap her in a hug.

Avery processed his words, frozen in place, before relaxing in his arms. “Thank you.” she mumbled.

“Don’t thank me.” he said. “I was just showing you the truth.”

NOTES One day, the quality will be much better. Today is not that day. Thanks for reading - please like, reblog and leave feedback in the notes. Or just throw turnips at me. Anything works. This fic is GRAY! because the moodboard was mostly gray, and we must throw in a mention of blond Hawthorne, because he's here in spirit. Genuinely, I will keep writing more, and I'm so excited for GV's release (T minus one month!) so more fics coming soon, hopefully! The taglist is always open to new additions, all day and everyday. Just drop a comment if you want to be added!

TAGLIST: @inmyheaddd @alwaysthefangirl @angelnextdooor @taylorswiftfostersitagain @runningoutofink8

[syndrossi]

Just clarifying after @carebooks' ask that I'm cool with Regnal being boring. Boring in that everything is cute and everybody lives (other than everyone who has already died and probably Crayne and a couple Volantenes) and EVERYBODY GETS A CHANCE TO BE HAPPY.

I am sure that Aemon and Baelon will be smart enough to make Laenor their bestie and be super nice and attentive to BOTH Laena and Rhaenyra, so I think Corlys' hopes for future alliances and connections will help soothe House Velaryon's upset. Especially as Baelon lives long enough to actually take the throne so Rhaenys is only skipped over the once, and for an actual reasonable choice (Baelon) instead of a dude who has nothing going for him other than having a you-know-what (Viserys).

Also, Rhaenys is going to adore those boys when she meets them, particularly Aemon, so Corlys is doomed. I wonder if Baelon can introduce the baby to her, and say he's named after her father, and they can have a heart-to-heart? (Officially requesting this next time you do prompts, omg. I have tears in my eyes just imagining it. THE GRIEF and the love. It hurts.)

As for Otto! Well, schemers gonna' scheme, but I think he'll have a harder time getting anywhere with Baelon on the throne, let alone the tag team of Daemon and Rhea! The biggest danger is probably Alicent again. Age wise, it'd work well for him to try and get Alicent and Baelon together somehow. Maybe Alicent and Aemon.

Mind, while I am truly happy with simple family picnics and hot spring visits and Jon's obsession with pulling/eating Daemon's hair, I'm also still hoping for some excitement in the protective grandpa direction. I said this somewhere recently, but just imagine the fury that will rain down upon the poor schmuck that tries to kidnap Jaehaerys and Alysanne's great-grandsons, Baelon's grandsons, Daemon and Rhea's sons... I mean, that's a literal dragon army coming at you and each one is PISSED and breathing fire. 🔥

Even Saera would not be safe, so I hope she knows what she's doing...

I do love the idea of us seeing Vhagar in a full fury, fueled by Baelon's protective rage. But who would be foolish (or bold enough) to kidnap the boys while he's in the vicinity? 🤔

Volantis: an obvious choice. Too obvious, perhaps?

Crayne is thirteenish I did the math wrong five right now, so not him!

Early Triarchy ploy? The Free Cities have got to be wondering if it's best to nip this Targaryen dragon expansion in the bud.

On that front, perhaps Dorne enters the mix? They do make for logical allies with the Triarchy, given their common concerns.

Disgruntled lord, a la Duskendale, who thinks that Viserys shouldn't have been passed over? It would be a stupid ploy to kidnap them openly, but through agents, perhaps...

Sorry, you started this ask with "it doesn't have to be stressful" and here I am!

A Rhaenys + Baelon heart-to-heart would be a fun scene to write, because it is painful and messy. He was her beloved kepa growing up, nearly as close as her own father, and yet when Jaehaerys passed over Aemon's heirs while his body was still warm, Baelon did nothing. (Baelon was deep in a depressive episode afterwards, mind, but that doesn't change how poor Jocelyn and Rhaenys were feeling! They lost a husband and a father.) I imagine they haven't spoken much since, and things have been festering, quite possibly adding fuel to Baelon's guilt/depression when it was at its bleakest.

I doubt it's as easy as "here's this babe who reminds me of your father," but it's one way to start the conversation! And they're so near to Laena, Laenor, and Rhaenyra in age that the notion of the cousins growing up together as Rhaenys, Viserys, and Daemon once did must have some appeal. Corlys likely takes a harder line, since he's pretty ambitious himself and lacks the same sentiment.

But yes, it's at least a little easier to swallow that Baelon will be king next instead of Viserys. Until Jaehaerys skips Viserys, and apparently anyone can be named heir over anyone else and the succession is chaos and why shouldn't whoever is betrothed to Laena be the next king (in the case of it being Aemon)?

On the Alicent front, she's such an awkward age right now for Otto's purposes. She's ten, so she'd be far too old for the twins, and still too young for Baelon. Now, if Jaehaerys lingers for several more years and Baelon comes to the throne around the time of Jaehaerys's death in canon, then she's much more in play from Otto's perspective. But there's also a Rhaenyra/Gwayne match possibility to say "fuck you" to the proposed Rhaenyra/Baelon!Jon match.

Plenty of potential for messiness, either way. But surely there will be plenty of adorable moments scattered throughout, and getting to write the twins as heirs of actual importance is always a fun prospect!

[namfinessed]

party 4 u - k.th.

genre: angst, fluff, soulmates!au (6.7k)

summary: every year on your birthday, you throw a big party and every year on your birthday, you wait for taehyung to show up and every year on your birthday, taehyung shows up, only to disappear after. but he always comes back, he always comes back.

note: this story doesn't have much dialogue, it's very much focused on the internal thoughts of the main character, it's quite focused on the feelings and not the plot. nevertheless, i hope you guys enjoy as always and that you feel something when you read this <3

-

there are very few people who actually change your life and when they do grace your life, they tilt your world on in their direction and you can't think of anything else but to follow them, you can't ever avoid the inevitability of someone becoming a part of your life.

you knew from the moment your teacher introduced your best friend on her first day in school, that she was going to be important.

you knew from the moment your first ever date said that he didn't like to give or recieve flowers, that you were going to get hurt.

you knew from the moment you met taehyung, that he was going to change your life.

but when exactly that would happen?

you were yet to found out.

that's why you're sitting here, chewing on your freshly done nails, in a dress that made breathing difficult, with glitter trailing your arms and legs and a blingy crown sitting on your head, waiting for his message to come through.

"you know, he's not the only one coming," your best friend, lisa, snickered, a balloon in her hand and you threw your head back, "is it bad that i only care about him coming?"

lisa wondered for a moment, "a little bit but crushes are unreasonable like that," she shrugs and starts walking away but you're already getting up to follow her.

"it's not a crush! i told you, i don't care about him that much," you huff, trying to smirk but lisa side-eyes you, "did you hear yourself say that you only care about him coming or did i imagine that bit?"

"i'm just...curious," you shrugged and she sighed, "whatever you say."

you didn't know how to explain to her, the itch, the longing, the excitement of just catching a glimpse of his hair, his face, his anything.

but you also wanted to tell her, he wasn't everything to you, not yet but right now, your world chose a new orbit to rotate on, and he was the orbit, you were the star.

you were still the star.

you were turning 21 today for god's sake.

-

within the next hour, your tiny apartment had people crawling on every corner, some were making out, some were drinking their asses off, some you actually liked and some you knew nothing about.

there was no sign of your orbit and you tried not to feel like you've been plummeted in the dark of space.

"let's cut the cake!" lisa cheered, clapping loudly to get everyone's attention and everyone erupted in cheers. at once, you were the shining star in this room and everyone's eyes and hands pushed you towards your kitchen island.

you saw your cake.

a pink heart with two sparkling '2' and '1' candles on it.

and you tried to tell yourself that it didn't matter that taehyung wasn't here, you would drink enough to forget about him by tomorrow.

but you still looked, all the way from the entry to your apartment to the people who crowded in front of you.

nevertheless, you stepped forward to your cake and forced yourself to smile as big as you could because people still showed up to celebrate you.

so, you had to shine.

you had to be grateful.

you were grateful.

but their voices drowned in your ears and their faces all blended together.

when the lights dimmed and everyone's not-so-meliduous reindition of the 'happy birthday' song floats through the air, your face lights up with the candles and you hear a new voice.

a new, clear voice that cuts through everyone else's and that's when you know that he was here.

so, you look up and there he was, standing among the crowd but standing out as if everyone else didn't exist, a clarity in a haze, and he meets your eyes.

your orbit.

was here.

YOUR orbit.

was here.

you smile at him clapping and singing the song and under his gaze, you feel your body fold, feel your knees weaken and your heart thunder just a bit.

when you blow out the candles, you are acutely aware of his eyes on you and you feel like jelly on legs.

but you blow the light out and look up as quickly as you can to see him, savour him.

in the darkness and chaos, he stands still and mouths to you 'happy birthday, sweets.'

your orbit.

was here at your 21st birthday party.

the party you threw for him.

and you shined the brightest when he smiled at you as everyone else's claps faded into white noise.

-

feeling taehyung's attention on you always left you feeling like a fresh wound opening in front of him, as if he could see through the layers under your skin and directly touch the tender parts of your soul if he wanted to.

but he always kept his hands to himself, even if you wanted them desperately on you, even if your tender parts ached and beat for him.

"quite a party you have here," he hums and you're struggling to believe this is reality.

you are 21.

you are in a room full of people.

you are backed into a corner with taehyung leaning on the wall next to you.

you are with taehyung.

you don't know how it happened, how it started, if you stepped to him, if he stepped to you, if everyone else saw it too, if everyone else could see the galaxy growing between you two.

it always felt as if gravity pulled your bones and nerves towards him and it always felt right when you were perched next to him.

you wanted to scream, 'i did this for you!' but you smiled modestly instead, "you didn't see lisa's 21, it was way, way wilder than this," there were broken bones, and confetti was found in the corners of your house for weeks.

he laughs a little, eyes growing close and his laughter runs like a hot wire through your spine.

"i think even if i did, i would like this one better," taehyung raised his eyebrows at you and you couldn't help it, you asked even if you knew the answer, "why?"

"because here, you're the birthday girl and i get to see you in this crown," he laughs again, fingers poking at the bling sitting on top of your head and your chest compresses when he runs his fingers on the edges of it.

the birthday girl part, you expected.

your crown, not so much.

and it suddenly felt more present on your head than it was before.

"i told lisa that it was a bit much," you self-conciously touched the tip of it and he frowned, "what? no, it looks...good on you."

but you could see he was biting back a few words.

"you can't be serious," you shake your head and taehyung smiles, "well, don't believe me but don't take it off, it's very you."

and you don't know what takes over your brain.

you imagine his compliments in your ear as you wear a white dress and he wears a crisp maroon suit.

his whispers of 'the rest of my life, with you, in your heart and you in mine' as your veil dragged behind you.

you shake it off.

it was dangerous.

possibility.

potential.

you couldn't dwell in it but you couldn't ignore it.

so, you talked instead and he met you, word for word, expression to expression, face to face and sometimes, body to body.

"i miss what dating used to be," he takes a swig out of his cup, and you lean in, a moth to his flame.

"what do you mean?"

"things used to mean something, you know? people used to want to know each other and fall in love at the same time. now, everyone wants a full report on the other person but refuse to fall in love," he sounded...frustrated and tired, and a part of you ached for him and yourself and your generation.

what did this mean for you?

was he just tired or tired and not open to anything at the moment?

why were you holding up the wall here if he didn't want anything?

but taehyung wasn't like that.

he couldn't be.

"that's true, it's like you can also love someone in the process of knowing them, instead of waiting for something to come up that ticks you off and leave them but you know, there is someone for everyone," you continue and he nods fiercely, eyes widening and body relaxing next to you.

and you relax too.

taehyung can see that you have something, he can see that he's yet to change your life, that he owed your instinct that satisfaction.

"people only love when its convinient for them now, when it's convinient for them to fall, be affectionate, caring, no one wants to show up when shit hits the roof but you're right, there is someone for everyone, just can't be sure who is who anymore."

you wonder who burned him for him to speak with so much venom and your heart that dropped and picked up during his whole speech, dropped solidly to the ground.

you want to shake him and tell him, 'i'm not like that! i'll stand with you between the heavens and the earth, will you love me?'

because you're dramatic like that, a bit obsessed with bridgerton and the regality of love, and you think he might like that part of you.

you hope that he would like that part of you.

then, his phone buzzes. he excuses himself and turns away to talk, you wait impatiently for his eyes to look at you again, to have his full attention again.

but then he turns around with a small pout and you try not to let your heart sink further.

"i just gotta go for a few minutes," and you're already nodding and smiling, but your heart's beating from 6 feet underground, and you're saying that it's okay, "but i'll be back! i promise, like 20 minutes and i'll be here again," he rushes to explain and you nod again, with even more understanding and enthusiasm.

because you're cool like that.

"that's totally fine, let me see you out" you walk with him till the door, watch him put his shoes on, try not to laugh as he slips a bit trying to put his shoes on, and laugh anyway when he narrows his eyes at you.

he laughs with you before his eyes completely soften.

"happy 21 sweets, you look beautiful and so does your crown," taehyung's finger brush once again on the edge of bling, a flash of amusement and endearment flash in his eyes before he leaves with his head down.

you're left with red cheeks and a hand that unconciously brushes on the silly tiara on your head.

he doesn't come back.

lisa takes your hand and drags you out of the apartment after you wait for an hour on the sofa.

but your hand still reaches for your tiara throughout the night and you still want to tell taehyung that you might just be his someone.

-

21 faded like everything else.

it was filled with heartbreak, hope, but mostly, just heartbreak.

because taehyung never returned in your life fully.

he came and went.

a handsome smile during sunset on a hill.

across the hood of his car, where you laid, watching you and your body getting bathed in light that made you look like you came from above.

driving back to your house where you lingered near the door until his car disappeared down the road.

zero messages or calls from him after.

and you were here, turning 22 and an invitation in the form of a casual text message that was unread by him. sat heavily on your phone.

as casual as the message was, so were your feelings.

they really were.

they had to be.

and this time, you were grown anyway, you weren't a princess with a tiara.

you were an angel with wings that could rival a victoria's secret model.

because you could be turning 50, but you would still pull up with the drama of a paegant queen, this was part of growing to you, getting to be everything your kid self would find super cool.

"hey, baby," a familiar strong aftershave scent engulfed you from behind and nuzzled it's nose into your glitter-spilled neck.

yes, you had a boyfriend.

yes, it was terrible that you were waiting on someone else.

but no, you didn't love him.

you didn't hear wedding bells nor could your eyes flash the tiniest bit of a veil and a suit when you were with your boyfriend.

somehow, that was all reserved for someone who couldn't even answer your text.

so, you nuzzled back, you cheered with your friends and you thought, life has so much to see, life wasn't just taehyung.

and you partied.

hard.

for hours.

until your knees shook with every step you took, until your lips were swollen from the kisses your boyfriend stole, until you walked into the bathroom and smiled stupidly at your reflection.

22 fucking rocked.

but then, you got out of the bathroom, humming, a skip in your step and your boyfriend had his tongue down someone else's throat, someone else's lip swole as he swallowed them whole.

and you watched.

you waited for your world to crash and burn.

you waited for your stomach to drop.

you waited.

for something.

anything.

to know that he meant something to you.

but you couldn't even conjure up a single tear for him.

"baby?" his voice was as if in a tunnel and it echoed all around you but didn't quite reach you.

"baby, it's not what you think, she's just an old friend," he was still talking and somehow, lisa appeared in the fuzzy borders of your eyesight.

"i knew it! i fucking knew it, the second i saw you looking at her, i fucking knew it! how dare you? how could you, on her birthday? seriously, is thi-" and it was all too much.

lisa's voice.

his voice.

his whining.

your own breathing.

just too fucking much.

so, you walked away, lisa came behind you because she was good like that, because she was your friend, because you would follow her to everywhere too.

but you held a soft, shaking hand up, the alcohol suddenly feeling like it took your feet off the ground.

"i just need a minute, alone. i'll be out, i'll be back, okay?" and her eyes softened, but she didn't know.

she didn't know that you were still thinking of taehyung.

would he ever do something like this to you?

and with that thought, you stumbled out of the bar, loose-limbed and free from a ridiculous man that you would regret dating.

you had to thank the girl who kissed him, she took a load off your hands.

you sat on a ledge and rested your head on the wall, the vibrations from the music in the club bounced off your head but you enjoyed it, you tapped your feet to the beat and let yourself just be.

then, you heard arguing.

shouting, actually.

and you peeked.

because, who wouldn't?

but you regret it immediately.

on the sidewalk, just a couple feet from you was an angry taehyung and the girl with swollen lips.

yes, that girl with swollen lips.

fate was funny.

maybe cruel to taehyung right now.

but to you, it was hilarious.

you watched in mild amusement and not-so-mild jealousy as she tries to hold him, tries to console him, tries to kiss him (which had you curling your fist at nothing), and all the while, taehyung looked at the road behind her.

then, she yells at him.

"this is because you never stepped up! this is because of you, not me. i tried to be a good girlfriend but you never even tried to be a good boyfriend," she wailed at him, eyes turning glassy and jaw quivering.

which was interesting, because ten minutes ago, she was kissing the lips you had kissed for four months.

you waited for taehyung to do something.

but he was a tree, unmoving, hands shoved deep in his pockets and that had your respect for him skyrocketing.

she was shaking her head at him, hailing a cab and soon, it was just taehyung on the street, bathed in moonlight and you didn't even try to look away.

heartbroken people shouldn't have looked as good as he did.

no one should look as good as him.

"sweets?" his voice sounded as his nickname for you.

sweet.

surprised.

warm.

and.

so fucking soft.

why did he call out to you like you were the only person his voice changed for?

"hi, taehyung," you swallowed and everything you waited to feel, rained down on you like stars falling from the sky and hitting your head.

maybe your kid self wouldn't find the sick yearning in your throat, your chest, your stomach, knees and ankles, super cool but you agreed with your kid self on this.

this wasn't very cool.

it wasn't very cool to feel everything from one person calling out to you nor was it cool to watch him with eyes that were practically dripping with love.

it was irrational.

stupid.

but taehyung comes to stand in front of you and offers a strained smile and you don't want to be anywhere else in this world.

"nice wings," he muses, and you shrug, delighted that he noticed them, "it's a birthday thing."

a look of realisation passes on his face.

he doesn't panic to explain that yeah, he forgot but remembered that it was your birthday.

instead, he smiles, larger, brighter and whispers, "happy 22, sweets."

"or should i just call you angel?" you scrunch your nose at him, pretending to be annoyed but you really didn't like angel, you would only like 'sweets' from his mouth.

he laughs at you and the sound always made you feel so proud.

like hello world, look what i can do? i can make the man i love laugh, i can make him feel joy, i can light up his life, and even for just a second, i own you world.

"what did you do today?"

"broke up with my boyfriend," a spark of hope passes quickly in his eyes.

"same here."

"i saw."

"oh," taehyung looks away, scratching his neck, "i didn't mean to, i was just here," you explained and he nodded, "yeah well, it happened."

"she was kissing my boyfriend, actually," you didn't need to tell him, but you wanted to.

"what a coincidence," no emotion played in his tone.

"you can beat him up if you'd like, he's inside," you point towards the club and taehyung laughs, but it was cold, detached, "my girlfriend, well ex now, kissed him back so i can't exactly blame him."

"that's right too," you shrug, leaning your head back on the wall and ignore the stabbing need for more words to come out of your mouth.

you wanted to say so much more.

you wanted to ask if he remembered the hill, the car, the sunlight and mostly, you wanted to ask if he remembered you in all of it.

but you didn't.

because if he forgot, you wouldn't know how to live with that.

"i'm sorry about not calling you after that day."

that day.

that sacred day.

you actually expected him to act as if it never happened.

"which day?"

because you like to make him squirm sometimes, because you know that he knows that he's left you hanging not once, but twice.

taehyung laughs a little, shaking his head, "all the days, i should've always called you back, is it too late now?"

what a stupid question.

your life waited for taehyung, it was never too late for him.

your heart climbs up your throat, down your tongue and hangs right at the edge, waiting for him to take it.

"no, not late and well, i'm here now, talk to me," you wish you could say that your desperation wasn't obvious but when taehyung grins at you, you know he's caught it.

the soft centre of your soul for him opens up again.

he holds his hand out and your wings close around you in the wind of the night.

you don't think you could've done anything else in that moment except take his hand and walk away into the night.

-

"happy 23, sweets," taehyung's voice in your ear and his kiss on your temple, beat everything else in the world.

you were 23.

finally.

with taehyung by your side.

you weren't in an pageant-level outfit, you were in his t-shirt, his shorts, in his bed, with the clock blinking red with 12:00.

but you had your old tiara, a bright eye-hurting pink wig, a new furry sash, and a full face of your best makeup on.

because you still had to be dramatic, it wouldn't be your birthday without atleast a little bit of flair.

and taehyung was here, arms wrapped from behind you, his scent, his softness, touching you everywhere your skin screamed to be touched and you melted.

because this was what you waited for.

you were never wrong with your gut feeling.

you were never wrong about taehyung.

that night, when you walked away with his hand in yours, you didn't know where you would end up but you always hoped it would be here, with wedding bells ringing in your ear everytime he smiled.

"i was hoping to see you somewhere," taehyung had said, hands scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish smile and you raised your eyebrows at him, "and ignoring my text would've helped you, how?"

and he had laughed, "i don't think you realise how scared i get."

it was a loaded answer but with no real explanation.

"with what?"

"you."

"you're scared of me?"

"yeah."

"seriously?" you narrowed your eyes at him and taehyung squeezed his eyes shut in delight.

"i love when you look at me like that," taehyung smirked after and you almost stumbled onto the road.

"like what?"

"like you don't believe a word i say, like you can see right through me," he hums and you swallowed down the words, 'i do see you, i see you, i see through you, i see around you, all i want is for my eyes to have you in front of them.'

"that doesn't explain the scared part, taehyung." you said instead, casual, cool, unbothered but your stomach furled and unfurled like a wild cat in heat.

"it's true!" he threw his hands up in the air, and you scoffed, "that's a lame excuse to not text me back, taehyung."

not so casual, not so cool, not so unbothered but you couldn't keep it in you anymore.

and maybe he noticed the underlying exhaustion your tone held, the exhaustion of your hope slowly burning out over the year.

taehyung knew he had messed up but he never could guess if you cared about him messing up or not.

so, he bit the bullet.

"you terrify me," and his words were softer, laced with the kind of vulnerability that was addictive, it was as if watching the flowers of his voice slowly bloom in front of you.

"how so?"

"because, every other person, i can fake something with, i can fake a smile, my feelings, and i'm okay with that. it doesn't make me sound like a good person but it's easier to fake that stuff when you know the other person isn't in it for anything serious," maybe he noticed he was rambling, taehyung took a deep breath, let out a tired laugh and smiled at you.

he poked at the frown forming between your eyebrows, and his touch bled into your skin, making it liquid, suddenly your skin could be anything taehyung wanted it to be.

"my point is, when you look at me, i don't want to lie or fake anything, even if that's easier, i just want to be me and i don't know, well, i don't know if you'll like that. i've always been okay with casual relationships, but if it's you," he looked up at you, you sucked in a shaky breath, the world suddenly spinning uncontrollably in front of you.

your wings fluttered around you again, the wind closing in on the two of you and you waited with wide eyes and a tight throat for taehyung to finally tell you something real.

he was either going to break your heart or have it forever.

"if it's you, it can't be casual, i can't be casual and that's," he looked at you again, as if he couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth, as if he's buried them so long ago that them coming out made no sense.

but there taehyung was, making your face warm and red.

"that's terrifying, y/n."

and knowing that you scared him, shook whatever foundation he was always comfortable with had you gleaming with confidence.

"do you want to do it scared?"

his head snapped up at you, eyes zeroing on your face to search for any signs of teasing or joking.

"because i'm scared too, and whenever i see you, i feel like everyone else doesn't exist. i'm scared but i'll do it, if you do it," there was no going back, there was no hiding behind your phone and texts and invitations.

there was only your torn apart body and your bleeding soul, that waited for him, that was always waiting for him.

he had stepped forward and kissed you then.

he had smiled and told you that he would do it.

the wedding bells rung then.

your gut screamed at you, 'i told you so!'

and taehyung did it.

he loved you while he was scared, not perfectly but he did it.

but 23 was still 23.

and you were still people, imperfections and fights and all.

but right now, the birthday candle in front of you flickered and threw it's light onto taehyung's face.

that night, he whispered to you, "do you remember you told me that there was someone for everyone? you were right, you are my someone, and i hope you're my someone in every life."

and the wedding bells kept ringing.

-

five years passed painfully, quickly.

but slowly enough for a ring to shimmer on your finger.

you and lisa had drifted apart.

you didn't remember the face of the man who cheated on you.

your pagaent-level outfits were old news.

taehyung was old news.

at least, that's what you told yourself.

because there was a man holding onto your waist with a tighter grip than you'd like but you smiled and let it go.

taehyung had touched you gently, but he hadn't stayed.

your friend from school, edward, had stayed.

it helped that your families were the ones to bring you together.

"and there she was, just beautiful and i knew i had to make her mine," edward said proudly to a room full of people who swooned and clapped, he smiled down at you but your stomach didn't jump, your skin didn't tingle and your heart shriveled.

the wedding bells still didn't ring with edward even if you were set to marry him in nine months.

but they would soon.

they had to.

he was the rest of your life.

"but you know, some taming was required," he whisper-announced and you wanted the ground to swallow you up but you laughed instead.

"either way, i'm glad she's mine, i love her and i can't wait to live the rest of my life with her," his eyes always glimmered but it was never with love.

it left you feeling confused.

because they sparkled.

so, it had to be something good?

but lately, his eyes made you sick in the stomach.

"love you more," you kissed his cheek, and his fingers brushed the ring on your finger.

"why don't you take it off before dinner so that you don't lose it?"

it was always like this.

the sweetest words he ever told you, were loud enough for the rest of the world to hear but the words only you could hear, were hardly ever sweet.

when he sees your face fall, his eyes shut exasperatedly and he forces a smile, "i just don't want you to lose it."

"i only lost your sunglasses that one time, edward and i even paid you for it, so can you leave me and my ring alone?"

"it's my ring too," he argued, eyes narrowing but when someone claps him on the back, edward smiles like the world's shining on him and he's once again the charismatic and easygoing guy you first liked.

then, he walked away with that person.

and you finally breathed again.

he was going to leave you.

not now.

not anytime soon.

but when you're older, when you have more wrinkles, when you're not as glamorous anymore, he was going to find someone younger and leave you.

you maybe had 10 years for that to happen.

you sighed.

if it weren't for your family introducing him to you, you never would've met him, and you never would've been...whatever you were now.

you left the room too.

and the bathroom was somehow a worse place to be.

it was just you.

but it also wasn't you.

your hair laid neatly with curls at the end, not one strand was out of place.

your eyeliner was thin.

your blush was a light mauve.

your lipstick was an appropriate brown.

you were wearing a knee-length skirt and blouse, both in dull colors.

and it was your 28th birthday.

28 fucking sucked.

but no one in the other room cared about that, no one brought you a cake and a candle, no one cared that you were 28 today.

even you didn't.

today was your engagment announcement, not your engagement announcement and your birthday.

edward had said it would be special to celebrate but he hadn't even bothered with acknowleding your birthday today.

you guess, this was just 28.

maybe 29 would be better.

or worse.

maybe you were wrong about taehyung then.

maybe you were wrong about everything too.

but you would still grow an year older and the world would still rotate.

several girls entered the bathroom with bright dresses, glitter all over their faces, dyed hair and they all laughed amongst themselves.

you were seeing yourself, from a couple years ago in women you didn't even know and a part of you ached for who you were.

you were your own person, you had your own likes and dislikes, you wore smoky eye makeup to class just because you could and now you were here, bland and drowned out.

you stared at yourself with more pity than you'd like on any other day and pushed the door open again, plastering on a polite smile and forcing yourself to get through...the rest of your life.

you blend into the crowd seamlessly, having perfected this routine, this dance of polite but not boring, entertaining but not crass, beautiful but won't claim it out loud.

you were what he said you were, tamed.

and soon, everyone became another face in the crowd, another person to greet and another person to look good to, to not embarass edward.

speaking of edward, you looked for him in the crowd, and when you found him, you wish you could say you were surprised.

he was whispering to a younger girl and laughing obnoxiously loudly at something his friends were saying.

at your engagement, he had the gall to kiss her cheek too.

your eyes met with his.

he looked back at you with that glimmer that you now realise is pride.

pride at having succeeded in molding you into whatever he wanted.

he changed you, tamed you and still didn't like you, still would choose someone else but he only wouldn't because you were the easier choice, you were already molded to fit him.

you hated that shape of you now.

you couldn't remember anymore, why you ever liked him.

years of him by your side and one look from across the room had you coming to the realisation that yeah, you could smile, fake it, be with edward, have a fine family, be a hot divorcee, you could do it all.

but you don't want to.

you won't.

you walked over to him and his hands immediately reached out to grab you.

you placed the ring in his open palm, "i guess this was always really yours, i can't do this, have a good life."

and you hear his angry shouting but you don't care enough to turn back, you know that he wouldn't if he found someone else, hell, he wouldn't even chase you down the hall.

your stomach twisted with pride, embarrassment, fear and grief.

you looked at the finger where the ring had been.

a deep, angry and red imprint glared back to you.

you should've known it then, the smaller ring size, the engagement announcement on your birthday, the constant taunts telling you to tone down, calm down, be less of yourself.

but edward was also old news now.

and you had to start over, all over again.

at 28.

but then you pass one person by.

just one person.

who you would recognize even from outer space.

and you stop.

right in the middle of the room.

you stop.

and your shoulders fall.

the relief you felt coursed through you in waves.

the relief that came from knowing that you were never wrong about taehyung.

you could be wrong about everything else in the world but never him.

he would always come back to you and you to him.

your organs all dropped, after being hung from strings for so long, everything in your body relaxed and fell back into their place.

maybe at 28, you won’t have to start all over again.

you knew that just a couple steps away, he paused too.

and when you turn around to see him, there's no surprise at all, there's no stiffness, there's no small talk, there's nothing except sweet, sweet relief.

there is only silence with unsaid words echoing in it, there’s only eyes that scan your every inch, there’s only longing and regret and mourning pumping through every cell in you.

'there you are.'

'where have you been?'

'why did you let me drift away for this long?'

but your eyes drop, it was painful to see him, it was always at least a little painful to see taehyung because you couldn’t believe he existed, that he was real, that he was once yours…or still was.

"you came back to town?" is the only thing you can whisper.

he had left for a job.

there were many tears.

lots of arguments.

lots of screaming.

you had tried long-distance for an year or two but that only made you hate each other, you had broken it off amicably, you were the one who called it, you wouldn't have even dreamt of that possibility before, that you would ever let him go.

but you did and nothing dramatic happened but soon, you were out of each other's lives.

but you two.

you never are out of each other's lives, are you?

at least, not for too long.

"just a couple days ago," he swallowed and his voice dropped your shoulders further.

you felt sleepy.

dazed.

cradled.

just from being around him, you felt like more of yourself.

you felt 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, and every other age that you held him close to your heart, which was apparently also 28.

"for good or?" your guarded heart asked.

"for you, and for good, yeah," taehyung grinned, struggling to meet your eyes, and the hand with the ring imprint on it, flinched next to your body.

“you knew i’d be here?”

“lisa told me.”

she was invited, she was in a different city but she was always invited.

you had to call her, kiss her, thank her, tell her you missed her.

you had to call so many people.

“am i late again?” he stared at the imprint.

you wanted to say yes, that he was late, that because he left you, you had to suffer for this long, you had to fall in love with someone you didn’t even like, just to forget him.

but you also just wanted to be held again.

because you knew it wasn’t his fault or yours.

and your body was calling to him.

"not too late,” you said instead, hoping that he sweeps you off your feet, squeezes the life out of you, and fills your ear with sweet words that were only for you.

taehyung’s fingers twitch, and you watch as his face goes from resignation to his fate, to hope, soaring hope.

you watch each other with amused smiles.

look how terribly our lives are tangled, even when we walk from each other, look at how we find each other.

“what are you going to do about it, taehyung?” you ask, because you wanted to run away with him and never look back at anything.

“do you love him?” the question throws you off balance but you had the answer.

"i did once, yeah but not for a while, not anymore," you whisper, rubbing the spot where your ring used to be, “it never felt like it was my ring.”

it also never felt like it was your life.

then, he touches you, not explosively like you wanted but tenderly like you needed.

his fingers reach for the back of your hand achingly slowly and they brush your skin once, twice and he doesn’t grab, he holds.

“i came back for you, i had to leave but i always knew i would come back for you.”

“even if i was with someone else?”

“you and i both know, that we are written in the stars,” that one sentence put together everything your gut had been telling you for years, that this was it, he was it, “no one can stop us, not even us and if you let me, i would love to love you all over again.”

and the wedding bells rang.

but this time, it wasn’t just your wedding that you could imagine.

it was everything.

you imagined him twirling you on a hotel room floor on your wedding night.

you imagined looking up at him from under a veil and feeling like you did everything right in your life if you ended up next to him.

you imagined coming home to him after an exhausting day at work.

you imagined waving goodbye to your kids as they left for school.

you imagined tracing the wrinkles on his hands as his hair grew white.

you imagined kissing the top of his grave.

you imagined lying next to him, in this life, the afterlife, and every other life.

so, you do what you wanted.

you pull him forward and bury yourself into his body, molding your body to fit him, the shape you always liked.

and this time, you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

how?

because your body just knew, your heart just knew, they had known since you were 20 and they still knew now.

and taehyung moves away only to plant the softest kiss on your temple.

“happy 28, sweets.”

[geniuscloud]

The Memories That Bind Us | Lee Minho (SKZ) x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Suggestive Humour.

Lee Minho x Reader

Non Idol AU!

Warnings: Swearing, Verbal Fighting, and a bit of suggestive humour.

Summary: Lee Minho and Y/N were childhood best friends who slowly began to fall in love after high school. However, the history that made them so strong also became their weakness as Y/N began to feel like Minho didn't love her romantically, but rather was just used to her. After a huge fight leading to their break up, they are now forcefully brought together again at the singles table of their University friend's wedding. Add a little rain and an adorable cat named Bubbles, will Minho and Y/N be able to navigate the romantic tension that still lies between them?

--------------

Author Note: Hello! This is my first time writing a Stray Kids fanfiction and my first fanfiction I've written in a LONG time. So it's been quite awhile! I hope you're all able to enjoy and feel free to leave any suggestions or comments. I really love feedback, even if it is criticism. I haven't had a chance to fully write a story since COVID started, so I'm happy to pick up this hobby again. Please note that this isn't beta(?) read or edited. So please ignore them. I'm so sorry. I'm incredibly lazy! Thank you again!

PS. The physical structure of the story got a bit messed up, but oh well...

------------ “Hi! Can I see your invitation please?” a younger blonde girl squeaked from behind the decorated table filled with a seating chart and goodie bags. Y/N fumbled with the envelope before handing it over to the young woman whilst her lips folded into a thin line in an attempt to smile. It was incredibly awkward going to weddings alone now, especially when it was within their large friend group. She knew she was overthinking it, but she couldn’t help but feel like people were gawking at her when she showed up for the ceremony and the reception without a date. She knew deep down that her friends didn’t care if she had a plus one or not, but she couldn’t help but perceive the looks as judgmental because the close knit of friends in attendance all knew about the break up. 

“Okay! So you’ll be sitting at table 13. You should see your name card on the table. It’s important that you don’t switch seats as the meal is pre-fixed and will coincide with what you selected during your RSVP.” Y/N peered down at the seating chart the young blonde was pointing to, her finger barely hiding the “singles table” in microscopic swirly handwriting. She held in a sigh, opting to thank the girl instead and headed into the reception hall. The table was draped in a navy tablecloth and nestled into the far right corner which was closest to the open bar. Six seats sat around the table with only three of them occupied currently. Finding her place card quickly she glanced over at the three people sitting at or standing next by their assigned seat.

“Oh hi Y/N!”

“Hannah? Oh my God, I didn’t even recognize you. You’re so grown up?” Y/N smiled before holding her arms out for a gentle hug.

“Thank you, it’s been awhile since we last saw each other huh?”

“Yeah like… what? Two years or so?”

“I think so. It’s been hectic since I got into university, especially since moving abroad didn’t make traveling back and forth easy,” Hannah chuckled.

“Oh. Are you sitting here by the way?”

“Yeah! I actually have a plus one though, so it’s a little strange that we’re sitting here, but I guess they just didn’t want to separate a lot of the families since a couple people brought their kids. But anyways… We’ve gotta head out for a bit. We’ll catch up later, yeah?” Hannah grabbed the hand of the tall guy who was leaning against the chair, giving one last small wave and mouthing a “see ya” before dashing off towards the exit. 

Y/N eyes fell onto the man sitting beside her spot. She could recognize his side profile instantly considering she spent the last three years prior sleeping next to it. Minho’s black hair laid softly on his head in slight curls and barely covered his eyes. He looked over his shoulder and met her gaze. She couldn’t help but notice the slight padding on his shoulders of his black suit jacket made him look even broader than before. 

“Hey,” he gently greeted.

“Hi…”

She took a seat next to him and placed her elbows on the table, leaning forward and looking around the hall for faces she knew. Hoping that someone would come to her rescue after seeing the situation that was quickly unfolding. 

“You look beautiful in that dress,” Minho uttered again. He leaned forward and put his head into her sightline, trying to draw her attention to him. 

“Thanks. Um- you look good too.” 

He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as she made it so blatantly obvious she was looking for someone to get her out of the situation. “You don’t need to avoid me.”

“What? I’m not avoiding-”

He raised an eyebrow at her. The problem with being best friends and then turning into romantic partners is that they can read you like a book. Minho knew every little quirk and habit she has. Y/N sunk down into her chair a little embarrassed. “Yeah you’re right. I’m being silly… Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I was just hoping you’d at least be willing to talk as friends since it’s been almost seven months since we last saw each other.” 

Another blow to her ego. Minho was always so calm and collected even in the most tense of times. It didn’t seem like it had been that long, but it truly had been seven months since Minho packed his stuff and moved out. It felt weird knowing the last time they spoke to each other it was when he handed her the key to their shared house. His voice still echoed in her mind when he mumbled with defeat, “I hope you find whatever you’re looking for.” 

“You’re right. We were friends for so long. I can’t see why we can’t at least be civil for the sake of our friends. The last thing I want is our drama ruining their wedding.” Y/N forced herself to relax before cracking a more genuine smile. “So, are you actually here alone or did they just set you and your plus one here like they did with Hannah?”

Minho chuckled, “No, I'm actually here alone as well. There’s another guy here too who’s sitting across from us, but he’s quite a bit older than us. I think he’s a distant relative of the bride or something. So unfortunately you’re stuck with me if you’re looking for a dance.” 

“Hey, I don’t discriminate against my dance partners! Maybe I want to dance with an older man?” she playfully replied.

“Darling, he’s got a cane and a hip replacement. I don’t think he’ll be looking for a dance tonight.” Minho’s smile widened before taking a sip of his wine. She almost didn’t catch the slip of the pet name that fell from his lips, but it made her heart do a flip in her chest. How easily he could pull her guard down with a single smile made her irritated but a bigger part of her just missed him. She tried to stuff down that feeling and think rationally. Maybe we really can be friends again? She thought to herself. 

“Yeah whatever… Just focus on the dinner. The plates are coming out soon.”

The night continued on without an issue. Luckily Minho wasn’t interested in pushing any boundaries and behaved like he used to. His introverted behaviour was sometimes a blessing in moments like these because while he was playful, he also was a little more quiet and not willing to try to start something that could potentially cause a scene. He was level headed when it mattered most and that was something she admired, but was also a reason it felt like sometimes he just didn’t care or wasn’t interested. However, the two of them continued to chat throughout the dinner. Catching each other up with their lives and making a few jokes here and there. Nobody could deny that their chemistry still existed even if they would just pass it off as friendly.

Y/N watched as the newly married couple started their first dance and then slowly more people began to join them on the floor as the songs continued to change and the beats began to liven up the night. She looked out across the dance floor longingly, wondering why none of their university friends were making the effort to chat or invite her to dance with the group. Every time one of them would look towards the table, they’d see Minho behind her and just give some casual pleasantries before continuing to have fun with the rest of the party. Some friends they are… 

“Y/N, did you want to dance?” Minho’s voice peaked up from behind her as he extended his hand. 

“Nah it’s okay. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“I’m offering. I can see the way you keep staring at everyone dancing and how badly you want to be up there.”

She held her clutch a little tighter while debating for a split second if she should accept the invitation. “I guess maybe a dance or two wouldn’t hurt.” Y/N placed her hand in his before rising to her feet. He tugged on her hand a little harder, pulling her over towards the floor in a quick dash, settling right in the middle of the crowd. A few of their friends glanced over at them with a smile as Minho gave one last gentle tug on her waist and pulled her in closer. 

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine… and thank you.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You know how much I love dancing after all. This was for my own benefit” he smirked sarcastically.

“Oh really? And what benefit is that?”

“I get to dance with the most beautiful woman at this wedding and everyone here gets to look at me and think how lucky is he?” 

Y/N heart flipped in her chest for the second time that night. “Minho…”

“Let’s just dance. Okay?”

His right hand sat on her waist while the other continued to hold her hand as they stepped in time with the beat. There was some comfortable silence that hung in the air as they continued to look into each other's eyes. While they weren’t verbally conversing, his softening eyes said more than words could. He couldn’t look away, even when Y/N would shyly avert her eyes to an object or person nearby, he kept focusing on the face in front of him. 

I love you Y/N… he thought to himself. Wishing he could say it to her right then and there, but he knew the consequences of his actions could risk this moment he had with her. 

The truth was Minho never really knew how to express his feelings. He always knew his one fatal flaw was that he never was good with his emotions or expressing the intimate parts of himself. In the three years of dating he could count the amount of times he said “I love you” on one hand. Physical affection and expressing his true feelings were not easy for him and he thought Y/N understood that. Unfortunately, it appeared he was wrong. He already pushed himself a lot when it came to physical affection in their relationship. Holding hands, cuddling, kissing, etc. didn’t come naturally to him. It’s not like he didn’t enjoy it, but it was difficult for him to initiate it. It didn’t mean he loved her any less or that he wasn’t attracted to her. It just wasn’t instinctual to him. Instead he has to actively remind himself to try to be more affectionate, especially when his partner thrived so much on physical touch. His love language was more towards quality time or acts of service. He always thought to grab her little snacks while he was out, even if he knew they were going to be apart for most of the day, or would make extra time in the mornings to make sure they ate a meal together. It was little things like that which he tried his best to show his love towards her, but perhaps it just wasn’t enough.

Now in this moment he knew he didn’t want this opportunity to pass by. He needed to make some type of move to get Y/N back in his life again. Even if they were just going to remain as friends, he needed to find a way to get her to open back up to him and create that line of communication. If that meant being by her side as she moves on with her life, so be it, but he couldn’t lose the most important person in his life. Especially since it ended over some silly miscommunication and conflict in personality types. 

“Y/N can we talk?”

“Right now?” she asked, a little puzzled.

“I mean… not right now, but maybe soon. I want to apologize for what happened between us and I wanted to see if there was any chance that you’d be willing to even consider going back to being friends.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I should have been more understanding and stopped trying to force some kind of fairy tale expectations on us. It was naive of me.” This time her smile wasn’t genuine. There was pain behind her eyes but she wasn’t going to let it slip. Her eyes glanced down to their feet so he couldn’t read her face. She had already been humiliated enough today and she didn’t need Minho to see how much he still had an effect on her. 

“I do need to apologize though. I didn’t realize how much I was letting you down and I just… I miss you.” Minho tried his best to convey his thoughts even if they were a little nerve wracking to say out loud. He could feel her body tense in his hands as he continued to grip her waist through the rest of the dance. 

“I miss you too,” Y/N mumbled just barely above a whisper. “Um- maybe we should have that talk. Maybe somewhere a little more private? I think we’re starting to get some looks.” 

The two of them walked in silence over to the outdoor patio connected to the large venue. It had a small flower garden and a couple stone benches, but at least it was secluded from the rest of the wedding guests. The gentle breeze was just enough to send a chill down Y/N spine as her bare arms were nipped by the cold. A little shiver erupted in response. It was just enough for Minho to notice and swifty pull his suit jacket off before draping it over her exposed skin. The residual heat and cologne from his jacket engulfed her like a familiar hug. 

“Oh. It’s okay, I don’t want you to be cold either.”

“It’s fine. I’m warm anyways,” he shrugged. He sat down beside her on the stone bench just barely giving space between the two of them. “Am I being a little too much?”

“No. No, it's fine. It just feels kinda strange. You know? It still feels like us but there’s this weird barrier in-between that never was there before.” 

“Yeah I kinda get what you mean,” his voice trailed off. “ Um- I don’t want to force you to talk about things, but I just wanted to ask, are you doing okay?” 

“In what way?”

“Like… are you eating well? Are you still living at the house? Is everything okay at work?”

She huffed out a little chuckle at his concern. “I’m doing fine and work is… well… work. But yeah, I am still at the house. My parents just recently moved the property into my name so it’s officially mine now. Not extremely thrilled that I’m paying a mortgage now, but I can’t complain. I literally own a house in this economy.” 

“Oh. Yeah. I’m happy for you” he said with zero attempts to sound convincing.

“Are you okay?” Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she watched Minho begin to emotionally battle with himself. 

“Can I just talk to you for a moment as my friend? Pretend like none of this happened for like five minutes and just go back to when we were best friends. I really need you for a bit.” 

“Yeah. Go for it.” She could tell by Minho’s frustrated expression that something was eating away at him and maybe just slipping back into the way they used to be could at least open a line of communication. 

“I really fucked up. A couple months ago I lost someone who was really special to me and it’s been bothering me ever since. I really let her down and made them feel like I didn’t care about our relationship. It’s just hard for me to be that mushy type of person. However, the longer I’ve been alone I realized now that I was just letting her bend over backwards to adapt to me. I let her feel insecure and in the moment she needed reinforcement the most, I left her. Now I'm worried that I’ve lost the most important person in my life and I don’t know what to do. I know an apology isn’t going to fix it, but I just at least want her back in my life. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness and I don’t expect her to immediately say everything is fine. I just want to at least be in each other's life again.” 

Y/N immediately caught onto what Minho was trying to do. It was easier for him to explain how he was feeling and to coax her into expressing what she truly thought if he talked about their situation like she was a third-party, even if it was blatantly obvious it was about them. She hunched over and placed her elbows on her lap thinking on how to respond.

“Do you still care about her?” 

“Without a doubt.”

“What do you remember from that day?”

________________________________________________

“Oh we got mail! Looks like a wedding invite” Y/N said flashing a small white invitation towards Minho who was busy washing the dishes from their late night dinner.

“I’m assuming Nayoung and Ben?” Minho peaked over his shoulder to glance over at his girlfriend who was clutching onto the invite and reading it carefully before placing it down on the counter-top. 

“Yeah it is. I think that’s our only friends that are currently engaged, right?” She briefly paused before looking at his arms and alerting him, “Oh Minho, your sleeves are getting in the water.” Y/N reached around him, quickly tugging his hoodie sleeves up his arms before settling into a gentle back hug. 

“You okay?” 

Y/N just hummed in response, squeezing him a little tighter and nestling her face into his back. 

“I can’t really do the dishes like this…” he trailed off. 

“Boo. You’re no fun,” a little pout formed on her face before dropping her arms. She took a step back and hopped onto the counter behind him, opting to fiddle with the invite instead. “Hey Minho. Would you ever want to do this kinda thing?”

“What do you mean?” he was still focused on the dishes in front of him and not bothering to look back at what she was gesturing to. 

“Would you want to get married?”

“I can’t… I’m doing the dishes.” A smirk grew on his face which was barely visible in the reflection of the glazed white tiles. His voice was still monotone but laced with sarcasm. A groan escaped Y/N’s lips as she kicked off the counter.

“Minho. I’m being serious for once. I’m a little jealous that all of our friends are either engaged, married or very close to becoming engaged; meanwhile we haven’t even talked about our future basically since we started dating.” 

Minho sighed slightly before slipping off the rubber gloves and placing them down beside the sink. Honestly, he was really comfortable with the way things were right now and didn’t see a need to progress just because all their couple friends were. He always knew he wanted to marry Y/N eventually, but he wanted to establish a little more security in their careers and life before “rushing” into marriage and a family. 

“We’ve only been dating for three years. Nayoung and Ben have been together since high school.”

“Yeah, but we’ve been friends since we were ten?! Minho, we've known each other for more than half our lives? Does that not count a bit?”

“Well…” he paused to think about the logistics of a wedding, “we just graduated University recently and with the student loans we’re repaying, plus the new job offer you just got. I don’t think a wedding is really possible for us right now.”

“Oh my God. That’s not what I mean?! I’m literally asking if you even want to marry me? Because it doesn’t seem like it sometimes.” 

Minho was absolutely taken back by her comment. How could she think he doesn’t love her enough to want to get married? They’re basically glued to the hip twenty-four-seven. His voice caught in his throat whilst his eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

“I mean- look at Nayoung and Ben. They’re so in love with each other and we’re nothing like that anymore! Literally even a few minutes ago I tried to give you affection and you basically told me to get off.”

“I was trying to do dishes!”

“It’s not about the fucking dishes! Minho, you’ve never even tried to be physically affectionate with me. I tried to not let it bother me because I know it’s not really your go-to, but do you not understand how much it hurts when you shrug me off? Honestly, sometimes I feel like we’re still just best friends who sometimes sleep together and that’s not even consistent anymore. Are you just not attracted to me? Do you not love me?” 

“Hey- wait. Y/N that’s not fair. You know I love you.”

She laughed bitterly, “Do I? Does it sound like I know you love me? Because honestly it feels like you’re just used to me.” 

“Don’t say that. That’s not true.” Minho’s arms reached out towards her, his body not really sure what to do but wanting to comfort her somehow. The tears beginning to form in her eyes made his heart sink into his chest. He didn’t want to be the reason she was crying, but his head couldn’t wrap around the situation fast enough to think on what to do or how to fix it. His arms went to wrap around her frame but her palms cut him off, gently placing them on his chest.

“I’m sorry, but please don’t touch me. I don’t want a pity hug right now.”

“Then I don’t understand what the hell you want from me?”

“Oh my God. We’re supposed to be a couple. I shouldn’t have to beg for love!”

“Well i’m sorry, but I can’t just be affectionate on command! I thought you of all people would understand?! I’m sorry that it’s not in my nature to just hold your hand, or cuddle, or kiss you, but I'm trying my best! I always think about what I could do to make you happy. Do you not realize I wake up 2 hours earlier than I need to in order to have breakfast with you every day? I don’t enjoy waking up early, but I do it because I want to be with you!” He shouted back while gripping the counter top tightly. 

“I know!!” Y/N bursted out throwing her hands into the air in front of her. She took a deep breath and sighed, “I know… I’m sorry. God, look at us. What the hell happened to us?” 

Minho’s head hung low, “I don’t know.”

“We’re falling apart.”

Minho’s eyes snapped up to her face in disbelief. She couldn’t even manage to look him in the eyes but rather stayed focused on his left arm that guarded her. Holding her pressed to the counter with no escape.

“You don’t mean that…”

Her lips folded into each other in an attempt to hold back the deep frown that was fighting against her. “Maybe we’re just not meant to be a couple. We work great as friends, but I can’t shake this feeling like I’ll never be enough for you to actually love me the way I need. You know how bad it is that my biggest insecurity is that you’ll never really see me as a woman.”

“But that’s not true! Why are you putting words in my mouth? Honestly, it feels like you’re just giving up on us? I know I haven’t been the best partner and I’m sorry that I’ve made you question my love for you, but it’s just the way I am.”

“And yet I’m telling you how your lack of affection is making me feel, but “it’s just the way you are” so you get a pass?” 

“Y/N-” 

“Stop. Minho. This is stupid… I just- fuck. I’m gonna call my sister and ask if I can stay with her for a few days.”

“Forget it. You don’t even let me talk and you’re not even trying to listen to me when I'm telling you it’s not true. You’ve obviously made up your mind about us,” Minho uncaged her body from the countertop and stomped off towards the bedroom to grab his bag. Y/N’s breath became rigid in her throat. She’s never seen Minho so genuinely angry and hurt in his life. His eyes were pooled with pain even if tears didn’t swell in his ducts. He wasn’t much of a cryer, but his glossy dark eyes did little to hide his feelings. 

“Wait but what about Nayoung and Ben’s wedding?” she called after him, trying to come up with an excuse now that the reality of her own actions came tumbling after her. She grasped onto the bedroom door knob attempting to twist it open but instead felt the resistance of the lock.

“I don’t give a flying fuck about their wedding. Just tell them the truth.” She pounded on the door still twisting the knob desperately before it flung open in her face again. Instead Minho towered over her with a backpack slung over his shoulder and a new hoodie on, “tell them we broke up.” 

“Wait Minho I didn’t-” she began to sob, reaching out for his arm as he stepped around her heading for the front door to slip on a pair of shoes. He went to reach for the door but at the last moment spun around to face her. 

“And for what it’s worth… You were my everything. Not even for a second did I ever doubt you were the one I was meant to be with. Ever since we were kids I've always wanted to marry you, but how can we be together when you’ve already given up?” 

_______________________________________________

Minho’s eyes had dampened during his recollection of the night they broke up. Two large tears had swollen up and fell onto the concrete beneath him suddenly pouring out into beautiful pearls as they refracted the sunset. Y/N couldn’t help but feel the urge to wrap him into a hug but wasn’t sure if that was the best idea. She bit her lip trying to hold back the tears that she thought she had already cried out long ago.

“I’m sorry. For everything,” his voice wavered as if he was fighting back more tears. Absent-mindedly, she placed her palm on his back as he continued to hunch over. She wasn’t used to seeing him cry, but every part of her ached at seeing him broken like this. She really thought he would have been over it by now, thinking deep down he didn’t really care, but seeing him like this made the realization stronger. He did care. He cared about her. He cared about their relationship. Their friendship. 

“You don’t need to apologize. We both made huge mistakes. I shouldn’t have forced you to try to be someone you’re not while in relationships. I think I let my insecurities get the best of me and I always would compare our relationship to our friends. It’s not healthy and it’s not us”

“I do owe you an apology though. I was being a sucky partner. Even when you told me how you felt, I didn’t even try to help relieve your doubts. We should have had a real talk,” Minho admitted. He held out his hand hoping for Y/N to take it. Her eyes panned down, not really sure if holding his hand would be the most appropriate action, but her heart won in the end. She lightly placed her hand into his extended palm. Her movements were weary as if the contact would scorch her but the desire for contact was stronger than her willpower. His fingers immediately laced hers before resting them on his thigh.

“Yeah… I really should have let you talk. I’m sorry too.”

A smile appeared on his face when he looked over to her finally,  huffing out a small laugh at the awkwardness of their situation.

“We really are something strange. Somehow we’re both comfortable and extremely uncomfortable at the same time.” 

“Tell me about it…” her voice wandered off. A smile also began to creep on her face but she tried her best to hide it. As much as she wanted to let her guard down, their situation was still awkward and a lot more needed to be discussed before they could just let things go. Too many words still hung in the air, the same ones that clawed at her heart and made her insecurities ring in her head months after the breakup. Even if he apologized and she recognized that he cared for her, it didn’t alleviate the fear that she wasn’t good enough for him or waved off their years of awkward pre-pubescent friendship that ruined the romantic tension between them. 

“I know this might be a little inappropriate but, do you think I could get your number again? If you’re comfortable with that. I’d really like to catch up over coffee or something. If you’d be okay trying to be friends again?”

She gripped her arm through Minho’s jacket while trying to think what the possible consequences of these actions could be. Would accepting this invitation to be friends possibly cause some harm to the walls she built up, trying to get Minho out of her head. She spent so long trying to distance herself in order to make her happy, but was she really that happy to begin with? It frightened her to be friends with him again. What if she has to witness him fall in love with someone else? What if he decides he doesn’t need her around anymore and leaves for a second time? She didn’t know if she could take more heartache from the boy who essentially turned her into an emotionless zombie for months on end. However, one little “please” from his mouth caused her to fold like a lawn chair. 

Stupid men, she mentally cursed to herself.

“I guess… I mean, we did have a really long friendship. It’d be stupid to let all those years go to waste,” she mumbled. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to reason with Minho or herself through the delivery of her sentence. 

“Thank you. I promise I won��t make things awkward. If I do, just tell me okay? You can be as mean as you’d like. I’ll even let you hit me if that’ll make you feel better,” he was joking but extended his face forward awaiting a playful slap.

“I wouldn’t hit you!” she jokingly sneered while giving him a slight smack on the arm.

“You literally just did!” Minho bursted out laughing and held his shoulder towards her to show off the invisible mark she had just laid upon him. 

“Well you deserve it.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that… but thank you… for at least giving our friendship a chance. It’s really mature of you.” 

She let out a sheepish smile instead of letting another playful insult slip from her lips. Y/N had been craving these moments the most between them. This familiarity of teasing and joy was something she longed for the most while he wasn’t in her life. It was weird not having him around, but it was weirder coming back to it almost instantly. It’s like nothing ever changed or had happened. It was just… them. 

“Anyways. We should probably get back inside. People might genuinely start noticing we’re gone and the last thing we need is some weird rumour starting around our friend group again.” 

He gestured his hand towards her in order to help her to her feet. Minho felt a shiver down his spine from the breeze. He had been freezing his butt off the entire time they had been sitting outside, but seeing her grip onto his suit jacket sleeves, engulfed in his scent. He could care less about the chill that pecked at his skin.

_______________________________________________

To say Minho was happy about rekindling their friendship would be an understatement. His phone was basically glued to his hands, if not, whatever flat surface was in front of him. He was never the type to keep his ringer on. Often opting to keep his phone on silent or ‘do not disturb’ but ever since Y/N reopened that line of communication, it was like every sense of his personality got flipped. His ears would perk up at the little ding of his phone, immediately reaching for it in hopes that she had texted him. Once even leading to an unfortunate incident where his phone decided to take a bath with him. Minho had spent the following night with his phone buried in a mountain of rice hoping the water would drain.

That was the night he realized maybe he was getting a bit too intense. He was acting like a lovesick fool who’s phone became an extension of his body, and it wasn’t healthy, let alone his immediate change in personality could risk scaring Y/N off. They had agreed to be friends again. Not lovers or anything more. So he knew he needed to take a step back and ground himself. 

The few weeks after the wedding was filled with hundreds of texts and voice memos between the two. Gradually growing from “how was your day?” into late night 13 minute long voice memos of ranting about a tv show or movie the two of them were watching independently. Y/N’s voice messages were always long and rambled. Often a mishmash of various topics as she jumped from one thing to the others, sometimes not even finishing the point of her story. Unbeknownst to her, Minho absolutely adored her frustrated rambles about life or the weird TikTok she saw. He absolutely ate it up, saving practically every coffee-induced word fumble that she made through voice message at every hour of the day and night. 

It helped him feel closer to her again. The fact that she thought about him enough to even send the message to him made his heart swell. Especially when hearing his name fall from her lips as she sighed about her cat Bubbles knocking over her garbage can for the 3rd time that night.

“Minho I swear to God you helped me pick out the most insane cat in that shelter. This little monster is addicted to my trash can- BUBBLES!!! STOP EATING PAPER!!!” Her voice screamed through the phone. He was laying on the couch while relaying some of the voice messages from the night before. The downpour of rain meant he was going to tuck himself away in his apartment for the night and park his body on the couch until bedtime. His half eaten dinner was long forgotten on the counter as he absorbed himself in the silly voice messages she had sent. He could imagine Bubbles, a tiny black cat with the craziest bulging green eyes, laying beside the office garbage can and happily munching on paper. In the few months Minho lived with Bubbles as a kitten, that cat got into absolutely everything and anything, but he got along well with Soonie, Doongie and Dori. Adopting Bubbles was actually Minho’s idea, he thought having a cat in their shared home would be like having a little family, especially since he missed having his cats around him. However, his three cats didn’t relocate well so they stayed behind with his parents. Bubbles was basically a newborn kitten when they adopted him, meaning he was just over a year old at this point, so Minho hadn’t been in his life for too long and the kitten was way too attached to Y/N for Minho to take him after their breakup. 

The pause of the voice memo followed by the buzz from his phone made him immediately sit up from the couch. ‘Y/N’ popped up as a notification as his phone rang loudly through the apartment. This was weird. They may have been talking again, but she was never the one to call unless it was an emergency. Even if she wanted to chat one on one it was always over video call. He paused for a second. Was it an accident? Maybe just a butt dial? He shook his thoughts off and swiped the notification to answer.

“H-Hello?” 

The line was quiet for a moment before static and sobs started to break out over the phone. He could hardly hear her voice through the muffled sobs.

“Y/N are you okay? I can’t hear you?” The poor reception made it impossible to hear her voice, cutting in and out mixed with her tears. His feet dropped to the floor and sprung off the couch the moment he realized something was wrong. His instincts began running through his body as he looked around his apartment for his car keys.

“Baby where are you?” he called out one last time. Her robotic-sounding pixelated voice was completely inaudible before the phone line went dead. The three beeps from the ended call replaced the sound of poor reception and his mind began to race a mile a minute. He tried to call again while mumbling to himself as his body turned the search into rampaging through his apartment. Her phone immediately went to voicemail.

“Fuck it!” he cursed while slinging on his rain jacket and dashing out the door. If he ran fast enough, he could be there in less than 10 minutes. His apartment wasn’t too far from the house they originally shared. He opted to stay in a nearby neighbourhood since he loved the area so much and it was close to the place he grew up, but deep down he didn’t want to move too far from Y/N either.

The rain was beating against his face with every step he took. His running shoes and pants were absolutely soaked through within minutes, feeling the soles squish water into his socks like sponges. The air was cool on his cheeks and it filled his chest with the scent of rain. Under the shelter of his balcony, this scene would have been something to desire, but running through this rainstorm was a whole different scenario. The shortness of breath finally caught up to him when he slowed down on the stairs to the front door. His fists rapped against the white door with heavy strikes as he yelled out her name.

“Y/N! WHERE ARE YOU?!” 

There was no answer, not that he had given her much time to open the door regardless, but in a panic he was not willing to wait. Minho began frantically checking the side windows and back door, hoping that her forgetful habits would work in his favour. Luckily he noticed the office window was cracked open, the hinge was lazily flipped to the lock position, but since the window wasn’t completely closed properly it slid open with ease. He would have to scold her later once he knew she was safe. 

Quickly getting to his feet in the office he looked around the room. It was quiet, well kept, and only a single light illuminated the hallway. It seemed like nobody was home. Meaning he may or may not have just actually broken into her house… hopefully she won’t be mad. Especially since he had just tracked water all over her carpet on top of everything. Within a moment Minho’s ears perked up to hear the front door open and slam followed by the sound of muffled sobs. 

“Y/N?” he called out. Hoping his voice would be frightening than his body in front of her. It was quiet for a second before she croaked out.

“Minho? What are you doing in my house?” 

He rounded the corner into the living room seeing her equally soaked figure standing in the doorway. Her pajamas were completely drenched through. The black tee shirt and teddy bear pants were completely clung to her body, not leaving much of her figure to the imagination. Her wet hair clung to her face and shoulders in wild twists which slightly hid the running makeup and sore red eyes. It was obvious she had been crying for quite some time. 

He couldn’t help himself anymore. His arms extended out in front of him before he could even form a sentence to answer his question. Instead he pulled her into a tight hug, pressing her body into him and nestling his face into her neck.

Their wet clothing clung together as he held her. Her arms were frozen at her sides as she felt his hands find their place on her spine. She was simultaneously freezing and too hot as her skin felt like it was on fire from his hands. She found her hands searching for his face, pulling him away from her neck and cupping his cheeks.

“Are you okay?” he finally asked while searching her eyes.

“I-I’m okay… It’s Bubbles.. I can’t find him,” more tears started to form in her eyes, “I went to run the trash out to the bin and he took off. I’ve been looking for him everywhere. I didn’t know who else to call because you know Bubbles doesn’t like strangers and I-”

Minho cut her off with a small chuckle. He gave her waist a small squeeze before letting go. He was so relieved to know that she was okay. “Shh shh. It’s okay. We’ll find him.”

Minho turned on his feet towards the bathroom. He grabbed a large plush blue towel off the rack and carefully draped it around Y/N’s head and torso, giving her a slight little rub on her head as he tried to begin drying her off. His eyes were soft and glossy as he peered down towards her. There was a certain kindness that existed only in the way he looked at her, like she was everything he needed all at once. It was a look that made you feel like home when he would stare back at you. 

“Please go take a shower and warm up. I’ll be right back,” he whispered.

“Where are you going?” 

“I’ll go find Bubbles. There’s no need for both of us to get sick from this rain.” Minho picked up the discarded umbrella that Y/N had been using before stepping back out into the storm and closing the door behind him. 

Y/N’s chest started to feel warm, a slight whirring of love sickness in her stomach as she clutched onto the towel. “He cares about me,” she thought. 

She mentally cursed herself for a moment because the bare minimum and such a small act of kindness felt like she was falling in love with Minho all over again. She felt like a fool but a bigger part of herself wanted to bask in this feeling that she missed so much. She missed Minho like crazy and the last few weeks being in contact with each other was a constant reminder of how important he was to her. She just hoped that he felt the same way. 

After collecting her thoughts she made her way into the bathroom and into the shower. He was right to suggest this. Her body was finally warming up and she was able to wash away the salty tears that burned her skin. It was a short shower since she didn’t know when Minho would come back and a pit of worry began to settle in her stomach. He was out there in the pouring rain and it was starting to get late. She quickly dressed herself into a new pair of pajamas and wrapped herself up in a robe to keep her warm. As soon as Minho got back, she’d wrap him up in a towel and send him into the shower as well. Y/N went through some of the old boxes of his stuff, hoping to find some of his clothes he had left behind. At minimum some clean underwear and a shirt to cover himself while she washed his wet clothes. There was a whole wave of emotions that hit her as she dug through his stuff. She remembered how hard it was for her to pack it up to begin with and now she was elbows deep in the u-haul box digging through his abandoned belongings. Luckily she found a maroon cotton tee and some shorts buried towards the bottom. They were slightly wrinkled but they were clean and warm, which was really the only thing that mattered. 

A small string of meowing cut her away from her hyperfixation of the box of Minho’s things. She could hear the chilled sniffles from Minho as he stood in the doorway holding Bubbles to his chest. The poor baby was shaking in his arms, his green eyes were just as buggy as ever but didn’t seem to be harmed aside from a bit of irritation. 

“Oh my God you found him!” she cried-- scooping the cat into a towel and placing him in between the collar of her robe. 

“He was hiding between the neighbours shed and their garage. So at least he didn’t get far. It was just difficult to get him out of there,” Minho explained. Y/N threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug, but was careful not to squish Bubbles between the two of them.

“Woah woah- I’m wet. Don’t make yourself cold when you just finally dried off.” 

She grabbed one of the other towels she had prepared and wrapped him in it, similarly to the way he had done it for her not even thirty minutes prior. “Now it’s your turn to shower. Please. I put some of your clothes in the bathroom. Just leave your wet ones on the side of the tub and I'll put them to wash and dry as soon as you’re done.” 

Minho didn’t hesitate much, knowing how good a shower would be right now, especially since he didn’t want to have an excuse to leave just yet. While he warmed up Y/N planted herself on the couch and began to carefully blow dry Bubbles. She just hoped that he hadn’t been outside long enough to get sick. His immune system was already poor enough, so an illness no matter how mild, paired with his sight issues and his weak immune system… it was too much for Y/N to handle on her own. 

It wasn’t long before Minho came back out into the living room in his dry clothes. His hair was still damp and clinging to his neck so Y/N called him over. She pulled him down to the floor in front of her on the couch, having his back nestle between her knees while she began drying his hair with another towel. Bubbles laid peacefully, purring on the couch beside her and wrapped in a fuzzy blanket. Meanwhile, Y/N ran her finger through Minho’s almost dried hair, trying to detangle the knots from his head. The moment was silent and intimate. Nobody dared to speak and ruin the comfortable silence between them as she continued to fuss with his hair. At some point he began to lean to one side, pressing his cheek to the inside of her knee and resting his head on her. 

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He simply hummed in response and closed his eyes. Her skin was soft and supple. He remembers how it felt when their legs would tangle while cuddling on their shared bed. She had a habit of wrapping her legs with his. The squish of her thighs were addicting to him when he would kneed them absentmindedly while watching a movie. He just missed her and the silly little habits the two of them shared. 

Her heart was racing at the press of his cheek against her. It was weirdly intimate but wholesome at the exact same time. She tried to hide the buzzing in her chest by acting like this was normal to her still, regardless if it had been months since she had any type of physical contact from him like this. She had to force herself to remain calm since she had so many questions and concerns in her head. Right now the surprise contact and charged atmosphere were the least of her concerns.

“I’m sorry I called you…”

“Don’t even worry. I’m glad you called me.”

“I just feel bad because you ran through the rain all because of some miscommunication and poor reception. Especially since you might catch a cold because of me.”

“Miscommunication seems to be our thing, huh?” he playfully joked, “and for the record I’d get sick for you a hundred times over if I thought I was helping you. I’m here whenever you need me.” 

A small smile crept onto her face at his words. She finally pulled the towel off his head to reveal his dried fluffy hair and placed it on the floor beside him. “Well Bubbles certainly appreciates your white knight behaviour.”

“What can I say? I have to save our son from the weather.”

Our son… 

“Also- my behaviour might not necessarily be fueled by the ‘knight in shining armour’ you were thinking. I have my own ulterior motives as to why I’m here” he said with a smirk, now turning back to look at her. He got to his knees, folding his arms over her lap and looking up at her with a devilish smile. His eyes were wide and glossy, a hint of devilish thoughts behind his pupils. It was that type of look you didn’t know to interpret as mischievous in a wholesome way or if he was going to commit arson. With Minho… honestly it was a 50/50. 

“Oh?”

“I thought you were in trouble. I wanted to save you so your heart would swoon.”

The amount of idiocy that left her mouth in response could make a spoon look sharp, “like in a friend way?”

His mouth immediately cracked open with furrowed brows. He couldn’t believe that she would say something so stupid. “In a friend way?? What friends do you have that are trying to make your heart swoon?”

“Uh- Changbin? I don’t know! You broke up with me! I don’t want to misinterpret this!?” she shouted back at him. A scowl formed on her face as she crossed her arms and laid back on the couch. He couldn’t help but burst out into laughter and grab her arms. He attempted to uncross them with his hands and pulled her forward again.

“No. Not in a friendly way, you idiot. I’m trying to win you back.”

“Well calling me an idiot isn’t the way to start” she mumbled to herself, letting her arms be controlled by his hands. 

“Fair enough. Let me try again. What I'm trying to say is I’m sorry for making you have doubts about my intentions in our relationship and for making you question my love for you. I know I can be a bit of a pain in the ass, sarcastic, and not very touchy-feely, but I should’ve listened to you when you said you were feeling like you had to beg for my love. The truth is, I don’t know where I would be without you and these last few months have been absolute hell. I feel like a huge part of me is missing without you. I guess what I’m trying to say is I love you and would you take me back?” Minho’s hands gripped onto hers, still kneeling on the ground in front of her. It honestly felt more like he was begging because of the awkward position.

“I don’t- um. I feel like an idiot if I say yes so quickly,” she stumbled out.

“I will let you touch me.”

Her face immediately went bright red; dropping his hands from hers and placing them over her mouth. 

“I meant cuddling!” he burst out laughing, “What are you? A pervert?” 

“Why would you say it like that?!” 

Minho doubled over and wiped the joyful tears out of his eyes, barely able to catch his breath. “God, you haven’t changed much.”

“You know what. Fuck you! No!” she laughed back at him. She began shoving his torso away with her foot as he laid across the ground in front of the couch. After a few minutes of laughter Minho finally was able to collect himself and bring himself onto the couch beside Y/N and Bubbles. 

“I am serious though. I know we need to have a long talk, but would you be open to a discussion about us? I really want you back in my life. I want to be us again, but more reliant on each other and willing to communicate.” 

She pursed her lips together while giving it a minuscule thought, “Well… I’m sure Bubbles would like to not be a child of divorce anymore.”

“Ah so you’re willing to give us a chance for the baby?”

“Hmm. I guess so” she teased. 

“You know what. I’ll take it. I don’t even want to argue if that means getting to come home to you again.”

“We really do need to talk about it though. We need to discuss boundaries and expectations so then something like this doesn’t happen again.” 

Minho just smiled in response, pulling her in by her waist and planting a big kiss on her cheek. “You know you haven’t really said you love me either…”

She just rolled her eyes playfully before planting a single kiss on his lips, “I love you, you big idiot.”

“I love you even more.”

[starsofang]

I'm sure you must get this alot and I know it'd be tiring to constantly get asks, but I miss your story so much T-T your pirate au will always have a special place in my heart alongside the cod brainstorms. Every now and then, I'll check your blog hoping to see anything and I still sort of hold out hope. Im thankful we got as much story as we did considering your circumstances and I really hope that the writers curse will leave you alone and I also hope things are going better since your last few updates ❤️

why hello!!! it’s been a while 🩷

i’m super happy to get this message! i have over 100 in my inbox that i have yet to answer, but this was perfect timing and it was such a sweet message <3 so i thank you.

it’s funny because i’ve been thinking of ways to come back to my pirate au. i’ve been spending this entire time going through a LOT of things, that it sort of made my light dim and i lost the love i had for my favorite hobbies, the main being writing. i haven’t opened up a document since the last chapter and i never really thought i would.

however! lately, i’ve been really trying to pursue the things that made me happy at one time rather than avoiding them. i went into a deep depression, still am, but i’ve actually been trying to get back into those things (with encouragement from my partner) to seek them out again and give it another try.

with that being said, i do plan on continuing! lately, I’ve been really missing my boys and their silly adventure, and i’ve also been missing the community and all of you heavily. i don’t know when i will return with a new chapter, but i can say, with the encouragement i’ve been getting from my partner and my own self to want to return to old hobbies, i do plan on continuing the adventure and going along with you guys for it since i know there are still quite a few of you waiting for the update :3

thank you for those who have sent messages to me even in my absence and telling me how much you missed me and call of the sea! it’s really given me an epiphany to want to return, and i hope to do that soon <3

[altraviolet]

Heya 👋

Hope you doing well!

I already have done rereading TEG for the second time and this is like my hobby now😄

English is not my native language, so I'm finding new details every time I read the story. Also I have to say, that this fanfic is the first ever english written story, that I've fully read! And that's making me quite proud of myself. I wanna to thank you for that!♥️☺️

So, I want to ask you something. In chapter 51 there was this line:

"Though he was curious about how the food actually tasted. The minibots' Movie Night candy looked and smelled pretty good.

Maybe someday he would deign to find out."

I wonder how would Soundwave feel if he try some candy on a Movie Night or on a Game Night with Rodimus? Would be happy? And how the others would react on that?

Also forgive me if that question was already been answered 🙏

Thank you very much!♥️

Hi!

Oh, thank you so much for the rereads and for the ask! Thank you for reading TEG, even though it's not in your native language- that's not always easy, I'm glad it's worth it to you! ❤️

This is a cute question! I don't think it's been asked before.

Soundwave would definitely only eat with Rodimus first. It took him a very long time to show Rodimus his face: it would take an even longer amount of time to show it to anyone else.

There's 2 ways I can think of SW eating a piece of candy for the first time:

when he's alone, just to try some. this is more in character but less fun, because...

2. failing that, SW would probably first eat a piece of candy at Game Night without telling Rodimus he planned to do so. Rodimus knows the sound of SW's visor being removed, so he'd be like ?? as they're playing and he randomly hears it. He'd look over to Soundwave doing the equivalent of OuO but with one eye (Ou-), and then popping the candy into his mouth.

Some things to keep in mind:

-candy hasn't been made with SW's dimensional additives before, it might not taste all that good

-SW hasn't tasted food with his mouth in foreverrrrrrr so it'd probably be a bit overwhelming

All this to say, he'd probably pull a face that would make Rodimus laugh very hard.

After SW got some of the damage on his face fixed, he might eat at Movie Night. He'd calculate the most trolly way possible to do it - perhaps aligning a big nom with a monster in a movie taking a bite out of the main character. He knows once he puts his face out there, it's out there, and he can never take it back again, so he has to make a (good? amazing? traumatizing?) first impression.

That said, the Movie Night mechs would be very excited about it and falling all over themselves at finally seeing his face. Wait, actually, I'm getting some deja vu here, I think I may have answered a similar question before xD Because I think I said before that Swerve would be like "that's not as weird as I thought it would be" and Jackpot would owe someone some money, lol

But yeah, everyone would be pretty excited about it. Some people would be very intrigued by his facial biolights, Riptide would be like "hell yeah" because he'd finally have another noseless mech aboard.

Whirl would be like "well it's not as good as mine but it's okay I guess" haha

In a very far future, where SW eats without his visor in the cafeteria, just like everyone else, the crew would get used to it pretty quickly. I do think that SW would prefer to have the visor on most of the time, though, as projecting images on it is a big part of how he thinks and presents himself (even when he doesn't mean to).

Thanks for the ask! :)

[momo-minomo]

Fic Fairy Friday: Batfam Meets The Justice League

@graziegraziella asked me to do fic fairy friday where the Batfam meets the Justice league for the first time. Excellent idea! So here you go, I actually have enough of these already bookmarked to do a second part sometime lol. Sorry for missing the last few fridays, btw, I'm dealing with some stuff and also working on my novel.

Happy 4th of July to my fellow Americans. I know things are really hard and scary right now but please hold strong and keep resisting. We'll get through this together.

For more fic rec lists please check out The Fic Fairy Friday Masterpost

Monolith by CharlesWaterloo

Summary:

Diana realised with a jolt that none of them had actually asked him how he knew Batman. And she was just as curious as the rest of them about the “we”. It implied Batman worked with more people. ‘How did you come to know Batman? Does he have any other friends?’ His mouth fell open, and he snorted, which evolved into full-out laughter. ‘I’m sorry. Oh my god - friends?’ Diana felt a little hurt on Batman’s behalf. ‘Are you not his friend?' He shook his head. ‘Did B really not say anything? I’m hurt. No, I’m not his friend. I’m his son.’ (An AU where the Justice League haven't met any of Bruce's kids.)

Momo's Notes: This is the first fic I think of when I think of this trope! It's technically unfinished but each chapter is essentially a one-shot and this fic covers the JL learning Bruce has kids and meeting all of them so I think it's finished enough to include. I love the WFA vibes on this one, btw! Also bonus points for busybody!Diana. That woman is DETERMINED to get all the hot goss.

To Rescue a Bat by Blueseabird2

Summary:

Batman gets into a situation during an alien invasion and could use a rescue. Unfortunately, Dick and Jason don't think the Justice League is up for the task. At all. So Dick lets the League know that he will be handling the situation and to expect Batman back by the end of the night. He even promises that he won't be going alone. No one should stand in the way of a Batfamily rescue, even if the Justice League doesn't know there's a Batfamily at all.

Momo's Notes: I love this fic. It's mostly in Jason's pov with a short foray into Dick's later on. The brotherhood and loyalty between Jason and Dick in this one is just chef's kiss. The Batfam are such badasses here. Bonus points for all the Robins still having their own teams but still having no one the wiser that they're in any way related to Batman lol.

Secret Visitors (on the Watchtower) by TheWitchBoy

Summary:

The Watchtower was the same as it always was. With an exception. A kid. Clark couldn’t quite wrap his head around that. A kid. In front of him. On the Watchtower. How did a kid even get on the Watchtower? How had no one noticed? 

Momo's Notes: This one is short but has the rare quality of being a 'Batfam meets the JL' set during Tim's initial Robin run, when he was still just the neighbor and before Jason came back. Dick is aged down a bit, making him 19 instead of the 22 he was in canon. Bonus points for mentioning Tim's perpetual bedhead between the ages of 13-15 lol. I love that Clark takes one look at 19-year-old Nightwing and is basically like "That's a baby. Why is a baby on the Watchtower?!"

Security Updates by Jazz020

Summary:

Hal, Clark, and Barry find an unexpected guest playing with the watchtowers security.

Vacation at the Watchtower by Jazz020

Summary:

A continuation of Security Updates It may have been a mistake to let Tim stay at the Watchtower while he heals from his injury but the kid really needed to get away from his brothers. “Wait, what if I go to the Watchtower with you.” “I don't think-” “It’ll be great. I'll even help out if you need me to. I'll be the best unpaid intern the Justice League has ever had.”

Momo's Notes: This two-parter is cute and WFA coded. Tim is delightfully sassy and hypercompetent gremlin, Bruce is honestly a good dad that in no way can control his flock of birds, and the JL are in no way ready for any of this lol.

pin the blame by ashenice

Summary:

“So, you're the one who named the Batmobile,” Nightwing opened his mouth, then closed it. “Who told you I named the Batmobile?” “Uh, Batman?” A grin split out on Nightwing's face. He leaned in. “I’ll tell you a secret,” he said conspiratorially, “B lied to your face,” “What?” “I named the Batcomputer and the Batarangs,” he nodded towards where Batman was currently speaking to Superman. “The car? That’s all his doing,” “Oh my god,” Barry whispered. (Barry Allen goes on a quest to figure out who named the Batmobile. There isn't a single Bat who will give him a straight answer)

Momo's Notes: This fic is a lot of fun lol. Barry had no idea that Batman had a family. Apparently, most of the Justice League DID this know this but they didn't see fit to share that fact with him, Hal, or Shazam. Finding out BATMAN of all people had kids leads him down a rabbit hole trying to figure out who named the Batmobile but in true Wayne fashion the entire family takes the opportunity to fuck with him.

Undercover by InvalidStuff

Summary:

Jason is working undercover when he gets kidnapped by the Justice League. Batman is off-world which leaves his siblings scrambling to find him. While he has to figure out how to not get sent to Arkham and keep the existence of the batfamily a secret from the league. Or, Jason annoys the league and learns he's important, Dick being the aggressively protective older brother that he is, Tim being a casual badass, and Damian living for violence.

Momo's Notes: Poor Jason is having a TERRIBLE day in this one. Everything that can go wrong, does. Now he's being held prisoner by the Justice League who have no idea he's Batman's kid, several of them aren't acting like themselves, he's injured, Batman isn't available, and his siblings are ready to fight god barehanded if it means getting their brother back.

NA NA NA NA Batdad! by nightwalker

Summary:

The irony of Batman having that coffee mug was amusing. The thought of Brucie Himbo Trainwreck Wayne owning it was hysterical. Ollie took a quick swallow of coffee to push back a laugh. “I like the coffee mug. A friend of mine has the same one.”

Momo's Notes: Short and wholesome. Green Arrow is one of the first to discover not only Batman's identity but that he's a damn good dad, too.

little brothers and chilli dogs by bleesknees

Summary:

Tim gets gravely injured while on a mission. Luckily, wanted criminal, murderer, and mob boss Red Hood is there to save him, but due to an unfortunate mishap involving copious amounts of glitter, the Batcave’s medical stores have been destroyed. Instead, the closest emergency supplies are one Zeta away—in the Justice League’s Watchtower.

Momo's Notes: No one knows who Batman or the other Gotham vigilantes are, only that Batman, Nightwing, and (Red) Robin work together. So they are understandably alarmed when wanted criminal Red Hood somehow breaks into the Watchtower with a profusely bleeding Red Robin in his arms. This is one of the rare 'Batman conceals his identity even from the JL' fics that have him continue to be very careful about who finds out rather than just revealing it to everyone at once.

The Waynes, Damsels in Distress by hitthedeck

Summary:

Roses are red, violets are blue, Bruce Wayne and his kids get kidnapped every other week. Some things are just universal, undeniable facts of life. Or, in which Bruce Wayne is still Batman and his kids are still Robins, but they keep letting themselves get kidnapped because they think it's funny.

Momo's Notes: I love this fic, it's so unhinged. The JL and some of the Titans meet the Waynes in their vapid public personas with no idea that they're also the badass heroes they've known and respected for years. The Waynes take full advantage of this opportunity to be as annoying as humanly possible. I also recommend reading the rest of the series since it has more unhinged shenanigans such as Jason "haunting" the watchtower and Tim fighting a magical invasion with the power of self-destruction. It's so much fun.

[1moreff-creator]

So, uh, Deltarune folks. We gotta talk about this at some point, right?

Like I know we’ve been aware of Noelle’s connections with the Angel and Heaven for a while now (see: angel costume in her wardrobe, "I'd jump and grow wings" in the Ferris Wheel, the Newsletter dialogue about snow angels, Spamton and Addison literally calling her Angel, etc.), but this is a little more explicit about what those connections could mean.

Right now, it's obviously impossible to tell for sure, but it does seem like Noelle will receive a "call from Heaven" at some point, whatever that's supposed to mean. There's a million ways to take this, so I'm not gonna be able to say anything definitive, but I have a few observations:

-The call being “Heaven’s call” likely means it will be made by either the Angel, or someone in alignment with the Angel. Right now, I’m leaning on the idea that the Player is the Angel, though I can see a world where it’s actually Gaster, or someone else entirely. In any case, if we really are the Angels of our respective copies of Deltarune, then “someone outside the regular Deltarune world (aka someone in Heaven) who is in alignment with the Player” describes both the Player and the Player’s #1 cheerleader, Gaster* himself. That means I believe the call will come from us, Gaster, or someone like the Knight making the call on Gaster’s behalf.

*I… assume we’re all in agreement Gaster is the guy talking in the Goner Maker scene at the start of the game, and the end of CH4, right? I don’t have to go into it here? Cool.

-The call could be literal or metaphorical. I'm generally leaning on literal because Spamton did receive actual phone calls which are, presumably, one of the reason's he's so interested in "seeing past the dark and into H E A V E N."

If that's the case, I believe it's pretty likely the one calling Noelle would be Gaster or someone like the Knight on Gaster's behalf (see: Spamton's phone sounded like "garbage noise" according to an Addison -> the flavor text of using the Cell in the Dark World has the same wording -> the Dark World Cell makes ENTRY #17 noises -> Gaster or someone aligned with Gaster probably called Spamton). The Player doesn't really have a great way of using a phone, especially without Kris being involved, and even that's quite limited. We can only use the very rudimentary Cell option in the Light World, and the phone’s even more useless in the Dark World.

But since we’re already bringing Spamton into it, might as well take it further. Right now, the guy’s the only reference we have as to what a “call from Heaven” might be like, so it’s possible the call in the Prophecy is similar to the ones Spamton received. In that case, Heaven would be calling Noelle with the promise that she'll be able to do something she wants if she listens (the way Spamton was promised to become a Big Shot), possibly giving her dangerous knowledge about the nature of the world, potentially in an attempt to manipulate her into doing something Heaven wants her to do. Lots of assumptions there, but when we’re dealing with this level of vagueness, we gotta work with what we have lol.

That said, the call could be more metaphorical. It could be someone relying on Noelle for something without literally calling a phone. And combined with the description of what a “Heaven’s call” could entail… that sounds a lot like the Weird Route, right?

In the Weird Route, we're promising Noelle will become stronger (which to some degree she seems to want, though she'd obviously only be happy with it if she achieved it through other methods), forcing knowledge about the weirder aspects of our nature on her (see: she learns we can read her thoughts in CH4), and generally manipulating her through a ring.

I believe both of these ideas could work in conjunction. See, I'm partial to the idea that the Weird Route follows a corrupted version of the Prophecy, connected to the Evil Route in Dragon Blazers that gets mentioned in CH4. I generally refer to it in my head as the "four triangle" Prophecy, because of the symbol in the doors of the second Sword Route board.

(Note how there's an additional Lightner triangle just under the Angel symbol)

The logic is that if the Delta Rune symbol is different here, in a minigame with strong connections to the Weird Route, then the Deltarune Prophecy the Weird Route follows is different.

Because of that, I believe the "call from Heaven" may refer to something different in the Normal Route than it does in the Weird Route, as big a guess as that is. In the Normal Route, the “girl who snows” would hear a literal ring from a phone call, and in the Weird Route, she “hears the call” through the ThornRing. Works? Maybe.

-Let's look at the rest of the dialogue in the Egg + Moss hallway:

Another angel mention, in case you doubted the connection between the call to the girl who snows and Heaven. No idea about the "cry", but my current takeaway is that Heaven will call "the girl who snows" at a time when the Angel is in distress for some reason. Whatever the hell that means.

Said distress would probably be related to the "man with one eye", but I have genuinely no idea what that refers to lol. Pretty sure it's not something we're supposed to be able to guess it at this point :p

-In the Normal Route, we see Noelle take a call from Berdly, and Susie taking the phone out of her hands. In the Weird Route, Noelle takes a call from her mom, but doesn't get interrupted. This could be completely unimportant, but since we've already gone mad, yet madder, let me go into even deeper insanity for a moment.

Now, this may just be me, but I figure "Heaven's call" probably won't be a very nice thing. The heroes from the Prophecy are meant to "banish the Angel's Heaven", so presumably the characters' end goal will be to reject Heaven's wishes. However, because Heaven's call is presumably something important to the narrative, I have to assume that there will be some point when Noelle actually listens to the call and does whatever the hell it will ask her to do. If that happens, Susie taking away the phone in the Normal Route could be foreshadowing that she will eventually be the one to help Noelle stand up to Heaven and reject Heaven's wishes, and the fact that this doesn't happen in the Weird Route could mean that Noelle won't end up rejecting Heaven's call in that route, or that Noelle will reject it on her own.

... Yeah that's pretty insane, but I like the idea so I'll incorporate it into my belief system for now.

Now what we must ask is whether or not this means Berdly is somehow connected to Heaven in the Normal Route. And the answer is obviously. He has wings, so he's the Angel! I think we all know that by now (/j).

-A more serious question we have to ask: what will Heaven call Noelle for? To make a guess there, we need to ask what Heaven and the Angel want, which is not very easy to discern. To my knowledge, the only indication of what the Angel's goals are is this one Prophecy panel:

Apparently, the Angel can only "meet with its desire" after it is banished. Potentially, this could be as simple as "the Player is the Angel, the Player is banished at the end of the game, and with that the Player fully experienced a fun story and is satisfied with the ending." But that makes one too many assumptions for me to be confident there.

What's important is that, according to Prophecy the Angel can only achieve its desire after being banished. So, presumably, the Angel wants to be banished. Maybe. It's impossible to say for sure.

So... in general terms, here's the full

Heaven's Call Theory

Something will happen that upsets the Angel ("why does the angel make its cry?"). My current guess is that it will be something that would prevent them from being banished properly, but it really could be anything.

Noelle will be contacted by Heaven, through the ring of a phone call (Gaster? Someone on Gaster's behalf?) or ThornRing induced possession (Player), to correct this issue. This is presumably a bad thing.

In the Normal Route, Susie will help Noelle reject the call and stand up to Heaven, probably leading to the banishment of the Angel's Heaven. In the Weird Route, Susie won't be able to, and either Noelle will succumb to Heaven's wishes and shit will hit the fan, or she'll stand up to Heaven herself, which for some reason I can't see going well. I really doubt the Weird Route will have a good ending, in case that isn't clear lol.

You'll notice this is extremely vague, and there's reason for that. There's almost nothing concrete about what the Angel and Heaven even are, so there's no way of knowing how Noelle will picture into the plans.

I hope this at least gives you all something interesting to think about going into future chapters! Thanks for reading! See ya'!

[titaneus]

Her walk of shame home that day had been very interesting. While it was easy enough to hide the stains on her skirt but tucking it in it was really hard to hide the blood stains on her collar. Luckily she wasn't stopped by anyone on the way home but there were certainly stares.

When she got home she finally noticed one of the bite marks he left had stayed behind. It was placed inconveniently in the junction between her neck and her shoulder. It was a sweet spot they both discovered that night. Still, she was surprised to find it had left behind a scar rather than fully healing over like the rest. Was it because she wanted to keep something to remember the night? It's possible her body subconsciously controlled the healing ability so it wouldn't fully heal over the wound.

As happy as she was to see the scarring it was going to be hard to explain to others. Hence why she resorted to high collar shirts and turtlenecks until they finally came across each other again.

Tania hadn't expected his fingers to interlace with hers but it made her smile and a tingling warmth fill her chest. "Good to know."

These feelings she had for the former Espada couldn't be classified as a crush. She definitely hadn't be infatuated with the man before that night they spent together. Well outside of her brief lapse in judgment when she so bravely grabbed his sinfully thin waist in public. She was still so incredibly embarrassed about the incident that she actually dreaded running into him every single time since then until the fateful day he cornered her and they wound up in that alley.

But as they got closer throughout the night she found herself falling for him. Outside of the obvious in how their bodies were crazy compatible with each other, she found herself getting lost in eyes and drowning in the sound of his voice at several points that night. He was pretty, so pretty in fact she thought he was downright beautiful. And if asked she'd happily say it to his face again.

What was he going to do? Bite her? They both know what would happen if he did that again.

She never thought of herself as the type to fall in love with someone overnight, but she found it quite comforting. And it made her happy to know the feelings were mutual.

"Oh! There it is." The nurse pipes up when she spots the restaurant at the end of the street. "This place is probably one of my favorite's to go to so I'm glad we get to eat here together."

Grimmjow hadn't wanted to leave but he'd not really been given a choice. And the looks he got when he arrived disheveled, hair sticking up all over the place, and that bite mark on his clavicle? Yeah, it'd become pretty obvious that he'd been busy.

Their first of multiple kisses and other things as the night progressed. They'd done a lot and as a result made a mess of that hotel room. There'd not been much left that hadn't been broken beneath the two of them that night. He recalled settling with her in that little nest they made from the pillows and blankets that hadn't gotten destroyed before the fell asleep.

"I dunno if I've ever had anythin' with alcohol before but there's no tellin' if I don't try it," He was one of those sorts who was willing to try just about anything once. Not actually everything but just about there were plenty of things he couldn't or wouldn't do.

He was likely more familiar than he realized he was. As an Arrancar he may not have had any in some time but there was a chance he'd tried something back when he was a human. Maybe. Not that he could recall that far back or when that was. Nothing of the sort. He didn't think it really mattered all that much.

Surely she knew that she didn't need to thank him for allowing her to take his hand, right? As she did so, he laced their fingers together, which was a decidedly intimate gesture he knew nothing about aside from it 'felt right'. Maybe it was because it was her. Maybe not.

He wouldn't know until they likely figured it out together but that was also pretty beside the point. He still recalled that very same night she was recalling, though maybe not for exactly the same reasons as she was recalling it. That was likely fine, and more than likely also fairly expected.

"I don't think it'll get uncomfortable but if it does, I'll be sure to let ya know without issue, Tania." He found that he liked her name, it rolled off his tongue fairly easily. And he wasn't going to think about why he wanted to use his tongue on her whenever they wound up in bed together again. Like her, he was keeping those thoughts at bay.

He'd never had invasive thoughts like them before it was an odd sensation but he'd also been told that his want to see her again, how he went to the location they met that night was something fairly similar to love. Which he very quickly denied, because he was a monster, and a monster like him was incapable of such a deep emotion.

Maybe they weren't wrong though. Especially as he felt how soft her hand was in his own.

[egophiliac]

:) hello! :D hope you have a nice day and absolutely do not think of the possibility of one of the last story cards being of silver! and that his groovy will very probably be crying!!! THERE'S SO MANY CRYING PEOPLE IN STORY CARDS LATELY!!! SPECIALLY LIGHT USERS!! I AM!!! SCARED!!!! bc so far we got Lilia and Sebek in the beginning book 7.... so at the end.... so we're missing story Silver... and Malleus is the one with less cards, so they might add one for him... but... the tears... ego.... THE TEARS!!!! EGOOOO!! (LOVE YOUR ART BTW EVERYTIME I GET A NOTIF FROM YOUR BLOG I RUN HERE TO SEE!)

(thank you! 💚💜💚)

YES I am ALSO like...90-95% convinced that we're going to be getting a story card for Silver once we wrap around back to diasomnia. 👀 especially because the way things are going, Silver will be the only character whose dream we haven't seen -- yet???? -- and that just. y'know. makes me wonder!

although I do think it would be VERY funny if he got a story card and the groovy was just "regular Silver except with one beautiful single crystal tear". this is actually a lot coming from him.

(he used up all his emotion yelling at a baby that one time, there's none left for a proper groovy-level cry.)