#THEY. WILL. ALWAYS. HAVE. A. PLACE. IN. MY. HEART!!!!

[wintrbears]

Cradle Robbers: The First Trimester | JJK

Summary: Jungkook makes a proposition you can't don't want to refuse, and there are seemingly no consequences to your friendship at first, but then you miss you period and have to explain to all your loved ones how you got knocked up by your childhood best friend.

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: 26k+

Warnings: unexpected pregnancy, fear, anxiety, crying, screaming, arguing, vomiting, cravings, drinking (not OC), mention of withdrawal, doctor's offices, ultrasounds, pregnancy tests, mentions of a break-up, pet names (bambi/bams, babygirl, baby), cats, dogs, wealth, sex in a movie, tickling, karaoke, medication, talk of childbirth, periods, birth control failure, video games, parental expectations. SMUT: kissing, unprotected sex (obviously), neck kissing, penetrative sex, missionary, dick riding, sideways/from behind, oral sex (both receiving), face riding, face fucking, cum swallowing, multiple orgasms, BIG DICK JK!!!, spanking, cream pie, titty sucking, pleasuring with underwear, ripping underwear, implication of sexual favors, hickies, soreness, aftercare, masturbation (f), cuddling, cock warming, alright I think that's all folks!

Author's Note: it's finally hereeee. this is the first of three parts for my new series and i'm so, so excited to share it with you guys! koo and bambi have my whole heart along with all their friends and family we meet. I know pregnancy fics aren't always the most loved, but I assure you this Jungkook is so worth it... he's tooth-rottingly sweet and soooo sexy! also, I linked the video of the boys performance bc it's too freaking good not to watch, so look out for that (and also ignore yoongi not actually being there lmao). please let me know what you guys think and/or any predications you have for the next chapter, the baby's name and/or gender, etc. I LOVE hearing what you guys have to say! OK ily bye :)

ZERO

The sound of some garbage eating rodent is the first thing you hear after kicking your apartment door open with the tip of your boot. Muscle memory brings your hand to the light switch, but you aren’t able to flip it up because the lights are already on. So, the rodent is big enough to reach that height… wonderful. 

You toe your boots off and hang your coat up, tossing your keys in the old stolen ashtray you use to house them. When you round the corner, the familiar, lovable vermin is bent over as he rummages through your fridge. 

It’s ridiculous, honestly, given that this particular species of rat earns quadruple your salary. 

“Koo,” you get his attention. 

“Hm?”

He doesn’t budge an inch when responding to the call of his nickname. Eyes rolling back, you stroll over and smack his ass as hard as you can.

“Yo!” Jungkook jerks up and just barely misses hitting his head on the refrigerator. “Take me to dinner first.”

“I am,” you reply. “You’re eating my food.”

Jungkook smiles innocently and squishes your cheeks with his fingers before shaking your head back and forth. 

“And I’m so, so grateful,” he teases in a baby voice. 

You swat his hand away, but the light in your eyes and the remnants of a smile on your face reveal your true feelings about his teasing.

This predicament is one of your own creation, since you gave Jungkook a key a while ago in case of emergencies. The issue is, an emergency for Jungkook can be your place being closer to the gym than his, and he needs a snack after his workout. In your mind, the purpose was so he can bring you chocolate ice cream on your period and take down intruders. He’s only done one of those things so far, and the intruder was a stray cat.

Falling to your couch with a soft thump, you groan and tilt your head back against the cushions. Today was egregiously long and definitely not worth the money it made you. The only upside is it’s Friday and you have two whole days to lounge around your apartment and do nothing at all. 

Jungkook comes around the peninsula which separates your kitchen from your living room with a fresh bowl of instant ramen in his hands. He blows on the noodles for a second before slurping them into his mouth, all without noticing the glare you’re sending his way. His eyes crinkle when he sees you, letting you know he’s smiling, even though you can’t see his mouth behind the bowl. 

“What’s with the face, Bambi?” 

“You seriously didn’t think of making one for me?” You ask through a pout.

You finally see Jungkook’s smile when he lowers the bowl to place it on the peninsula. He looks proud, his head tilting as he chuckles to himself. 

Then, you hear the microwave go off, and your glare quickly turns into a grin. 

Jungkook grabs the second bowl from the microwave and sets it on the counter. You watch appreciatively as he rips open the sauce packet before putting it between his teeth and using his chopsticks to pour it all into the bowl. The crinkle of a cheese wrapper opening brings your eyebrows up your forehead in delight. He drops the orange square into the bowl and mixes everything together with the chopsticks before holding it out towards you. 

“You gonna take that shit back now or what?”

You beam and giggle as you stand, practically skipping across the room so you can take the bowl of delicious noodles from him.

“Thank you,” you sing-song.

“Mmhmm.”

The two of you eat on your couch in a slurp filled ambiance. It’s an old, familiar scene and one you always appreciate even if you don’t say it outloud. 

They say you choose your friends, but Jungkook was pretty much forced on you. Your mothers are college roommates who became best friends and later married another pair of best friends. The women proceeded to plot and plan accordingly so they would be pregnant together and their kids would be the same age. Unfortunately, your parents went off script by about six months, but you and Jungkook are still close enough in age to be in the same grade throughout school. 

Even though your friendship was intricately planned long before your conception, you’re close of your own volition. 

Jungkook is not only your best friend, but the most amazing person you know and probably in existence. You wouldn’t trade him for the world if it came down to it. In fact, if the zombie apocalypse ever happens, and somehow his death is the only way to find a cure, you will Joel Miller-style kill every single person who dares to try and take him from you. They can rip your dorky, caring, smart-ass best friend from your cold, dead hands. Everyone else can become zombies for all you care, everyone but him.

The sound of a bowl meeting the coffee table pulls your attention back to the man beside you. He kicks his feet up and stretches his arms above his head in relaxation. When the action reveals a sliver of skin from below the hem of his shirt, you use the opportunity to tickle him and laugh when he groans and folds into himself.

“Is this really the game you wanna play, Bams?” He speaks to the floor, still hunching over from your attack.

Bambi, or Bams for short, is the only name Jungkook calls you. Sometimes, you jokingly accuse him of forgetting your real name altogether, which then spurs him on to attempt “guessing” what it is. Ironically, neither of you nor your parents can recall the origin of the nickname. Like some strange Mandela effect, one day he started calling you by the Disney character’s name and never stopped. 

If memory serves correctly, you think the last time you heard the syllables of your name leave his mouth was in fifth grade when he defended you against a clique of mean girls. Something along the lines of “leave my Y/N alone,” in his adorable kiddie Jungkook voice.

He’s certainly gone through some drastic changes since then. His voice now filters out in a deep, honey tone, he doesn’t use his bangs to conceal his starry eyes anymore, and he’s got you beat by a few inches in height. You’re different, too, mostly in the way you no longer need him to defend you on the playground. He still would, though, and he often tries on nights out when someone tries testing your patience. 

Jungkook would never hurt a fly, but he’s got an entire sleeve of tattoos, multiple piercings, and broad shoulders, so he uses his outward appearance to his advantage and scares people away when necessary.

You don’t respond to his taunt, instead you slowly slide across the fabric of the couch, as quietly as you can so he doesn’t pick up on the movement. He, of course, notices right away, and a cheshire grin appears before your eyes.

Standing up like lightning, you make a break for your bedroom, but you only reach the back of the couch before his arms are clinching you by the waist. 

“No!” You shout and kick the air as he tugs you back towards the furniture. 

“You asked for this.”

“Koo, no!” 

He drops you unceremoniously onto the cushions where you flail in an attempt to escape, but it’s futile because Jungkook is already bending down to tickle your sides. Hysterical laughter fills the space as his fingertips pitter-patter on your skin. Your best friend is ruthless as always, never halting his actions even as you squirm and swat at him to get away. 

“Say you’re sorry, Bambi.”

“Jungkook, I’m gonna fucking pee my pants,” you threaten.

“Not my problem,” he responds. 

You gasp and recoil when he starts tickling your neck, rendering you completely useless to do anything but suffer. Eventually, your brain returns from its momentary vacation and you find the will to fight back, grabbing his hands and pulling them away as you attempt to catch your breath. Jungkook’s smiling like the devil himself above you and you resist the urge to slap the smirk right off his handsome face.

This behavior is par for the course for you both, because you’re a brat who likes to test his limits, and he’s too competitive to let you have the last laugh. 

Jungkook stands to his full height, smirk still intact, while you struggle to slow your jackrabbiting heart. He moseys over to your bookshelf to survey its contents, and once you’re sitting up again, you chuck a throw pillow across the room at him. It meets his back before pathetically falling to the floor. Jungkook doesn’t even flinch. He just shakes his head and tsks at your feeble attempt at payback.

His fingers trace over the items occupying your bookshelf before settling on a thin rectangle and removing it from its home.

“Movie night?” 

He rests the corner of the DVD case against his head to show it off to you. You call him towards you with your hand so you can inspect the item for yourself. It houses a movie you haven’t seen in a long time, some low budget rom com with good sex scenes. Shrugging, you nod your head at him and watch as he goes to play the movie in your now ancient DVD player.

“I’ll go make popcorn,” you announce before standing and heading to the kitchen. 

Jungkook plummets into the couch and grabs your fuzzy blanket to spread over his legs. When you return with a large bowl of popcorn to share, he lifts the blanket and readjusts it to cover your legs as well. 

Neither of you pay much attention to the plot, too busy joking around when characters say stupid lines. You spend your time talking about your week and any plans for the upcoming weekend instead. Jungkook’s just finishing up his story about his boss accidentally unmuting himself on Teams when the first sex scene catches your attention. You both actually focus on the screen for the first time and Jungkook tilts his head while tonguing his cheek as the male character descends down the female character’s body and kisses her skin as he goes. 

“Do you ever think about it?” He asks as he throws a kernel of popcorn into the air and catches it with his mouth. 

“About what?” You look towards the screen. “Sex?” He nods and puts his arm behind you on the couch so he can face you. “Like, in general, or —”

“No, no,” Jungkook chuckles. “Like us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, have you thought about us having sex?”

The popcorn in your mouth goes down the wrong tube when you choke in response to his question. You hit your chest once to help it descend your esophagus before reaching for your drink on the coffee table. The time it takes you to gulp down the fizzy beverage isn’t nearly enough for you to gather your thoughts.

“Koo, what the actual fuck,” you scold him. 

“Is that a no?” He raises his eyebrows at you suggestively. “Because I know I have.”

“Ew, when?” 

“It’s not often, just like, every once in a while,” he explains. “I just think it would be fun! This is not me making some grandstand announcement about how I’ve always wanted you or some shit.” He readjusts so his entire body faces you directly. “Listen, we’ve done everything together. Skydiving, parasailing, swimming with dolphins, stealing from the grocery store, sneaking into the movies, you name it. Doesn’t it make sense that we should do everything before we aren’t able to anymore?”

“You forced me to go skydiving, Jungkook.” 

“That’s not the point, Bambi,” he playfully grits his teeth. “Eventually, we’re gonna settle down with our own partners and the window of opportunity will be gone. Why not try something new together while we still can?” 

Your teeth hold your bottom lip captive as your mind processes his proposal. Truthfully, you have thought about it, same as him. Not in some romantic, storybook way, but just from a perspective of knowing he’s a handsome guy with a great build and it would probably be a fun night for both of you. This conversation scares the shit out of you, though. Thinking about it is one thing, but attempting to manifest it into reality is a whole other beast. The list of things that could go wrong is longer than a CVS receipt. Then again, you and Jungkook have been through everything together and you’ve always made it out on the other side. 

“Koo, I don’t know…” you admit. “I love me some good casual sex with no feelings involved, but this is us we’re talking about.”

“Exactly!” He claps his hands together eagerly. “It’s us, probably the only two people in the whole world who nothing can come between.” Jungkook sighs and eats more popcorn from the bowl still in your lap. “I’m not trying to pressure you, Bams, I just really think we’d both have a great time. I mean, I’m hot, you’re hot, I’ve got a big dick, I’m sure your pussy is tight, what else could you want?”

You laugh at his reasoning, throwing your head back and holding the position as you blow air from your mouth. A couple anticipatory moments pass as your mind weighs the options. A large intake of air fills your lungs before you lift your head.

“Okay,” you murmur.

“Okay?”

“Okay, Koo.”

Jungkook giggles like a little kid, his feet stamping the ground repeatedly as he pumps his arms in excitement. Your laughter returns in response to his celebration, rolling your eyes affectionately at the familiar behavior of your childhood best friend.

“You said yes because I called you tight, is that it?”

Shaking your head, you push his shoulder back with your hand, using your other one to place the popcorn bowl on the coffee table. Jungkook’s eyes turn into big oases of black as his pupils dilate and conceal the normal chocolate color of his irises. You take your time straddling his thighs, your knees digging into the couch beside his hips. 

“No,” you answer him. Making a show of flipping your hair over your shoulder and bending down until you’re face to face. You avoid his lips, which are pouting slightly, to place a kiss over the tiny mole on his neck. “I said yes because you said you have a big dick and now I need to find out if that’s true,” you whisper into his ear. 

Your voice has a sultry edge you’ve never used in his presence before. Sitting back on your heels, you gaze at him with an innocent smile as you bat your eyelashes. 

Jungkook’s look of surprise is long gone, his eyes sharpening until they’re a quarter of their normal size as he stares you down. The muscles in his jaw clench and the skin of his brow creases, his eyebrows nearly kissing. Your eyes catch the thick vein in his neck pulsing with adrenaline and it makes your thighs tingle.

He laughs incredulously, running a hand through his hair as he tongues his cheek.

“Alright, so we’re doing it this way,” he muses.

In an instant, Jungkook is grabbing your hips and slamming you down into his lap. You gasp and brace yourself on his shoulders. Your reaction brings a satisfied smirk to his face, and you have the urge to roll your eyes again, but then his fingers rake into your hair and he yanks the strands to expose your throat. A needy whine passes through your lips as your neck beckons him to give it attention. He places a single, gentle kiss to your pulse point before leaving you wanting. A second noise of complaint is about to leave you when Jungkook finally starts devouring your neck with his mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan quietly. 

Jungkook chuckles melodiously against the wet spots he’s leaving on you. The feeling of his warm breath on your skin forms goosebumps across your arms and sends a shiver straight down your spine. His teeth are maiming your neck as he works diligently to paint you in pretty, purple bruises shaped like his mouth. Once the artwork appears before his eyes, he licks over the mark and kisses it before moving to conquer another spot. 

Meanwhile, your hips spring into action and you start moving in languid circles across his lap. The initial plan is to keep the pressure of your movements teasingly light, but once you feel the apparent bulge forming in his pants, you can’t resist grinding down hard against his clothed cock. 

Jungkook groans responsively and bites into your skin with his canines.

Soon enough, he ceases his assault on your neck so his lips can travel across your shoulder instead. His fingers push your shirt down your arm so he can kiss and lick your skin unimpeached. You moan loudly, the rhythm of your hips picking up in tempo as he seeks out every inch of exposed skin he can.

“Fuck, I could come in my fucking pants, Bams,” he whispers. “Please don’t stop.”

His words only motivate you to push your hips into him harder. He groans again and nods his head approvingly. You agree with him internally, the friction from your underwear rubbing against your clit steadily sending you into a frenzy.

“So good, Koo.”

Jungkook hums and leans back to appreciate the portrait of his lips he’s left on you. His fingertips gently trace over the hickies and he wears a proud smile as he turns your head back and forth to examine his work. 

“You look so pretty, all marked up,” he praises. 

Pushing him down by his shoulders, you grab his face with both hands to kiss him. There’s an electric shock when your lips meet for the first time, but you aren’t sure if it’s only in your head or if he felt it, too. 

The kiss is anything but romantic. Within seconds you’re licking into his mouth and chasing his tongue while his teeth pull at your bottom lip. Jungkook moans and his fingers press down against your scalp. Tilting your head, you kiss him like he’s your only source of oxygen. Your body and mind are in overdrive, your thighs twitching with need and you need his lips to bring you back down to earth. 

He tastes sweet like the cola he was drinking and it makes your head spin. The pretty, pink, doll lips you’ve always admired are magical in the way they move. Jungkook has you trapped between his mouth and the hand on your head, but you don’t mind when he’s kissing you until your mind blanks. 

It's a scramble of fingers and hands as you undress one another as fast as humanly possible. His warm hands brush against your stomach as he lifts your top over your head. You feel his abs beneath your fingers when you tug off his shirt. Jungkook accidentally pinches your skin when unhooking your bra and you don’t even notice, too busy kissing him like your life depends on it.

When Jungkook sees your tits for the first time, he fucking loses it. His head hits the arm of the couch as it falls back, and the growl that comes from deep within his throat is fucking demonic. 

“God, you are so fucking hot,” he declares.

You’re unable to respond because he’s already wrapping his mouth around your nipple and tweaking the other with his fingers, forcing the air from your lungs instantaneously. Jungkook’s tongue circles your nipple a couple times before he sucks the erect nub into his mouth, keeping the same pace with his fingers on your other breast. 

The moans coming from you are unrecognizable in comparison to your normal timbre, and they only grow in volume when Jungkook switches sides and repeats his debilitating ministrations.

Lacing your fingers through his black strands, you pull his face away from your chest to see his eyes. He barely looks like himself anymore, a scorching fire behind his usual soft gaze. The image lights you up inside, and you kiss him again hard enough that he tumbles back into the couch cushions and brings you along with him. 

His hands explore the smooth skin of your back and shoulders, massaging you with his big hands as he traverses across the previously uncharted territory. 

“You’re so sexy, Jungkook,” you tell him as you kiss his jaw. “Everything about you.”

His skin is searing hot and flushed red, the tint going all the way down his neck and chest. You take your time moving across his jawline and throat, sucking just below his ear and letting your tongue trace the perimeter of his earlobe. Descending down his torso, you kiss his collarbones and pecs while digging your nails into his abs, your ample attempt at showing him exactly what you mean by your comment. 

“Need you, Bambi, so fucking bad,” he whines.

The only acknowledgment you give him is by looking up with a devilish smirk before your hands start to unbutton his jeans. You pull them down just enough to reveal his boxers and hold his eye contact while you kiss the fabric covering his cock. Jungkook’s hips twitch and his eyes squeeze shut, an undeniably sexy groan leaving him. Your hands caress his thighs while you mouth at his boxers and you can feel him getting harder with each press of your lips.

He hurries to pull his pants down the rest of the way while you hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers. When you tease him by letting them snap against his hips, he hisses and you see his Adam's apple bob. His hips buck towards your face desperately, making you snicker at his attempt to create friction. 

“Patience, Koo,” you tease him. Jungkook grits his teeth at your taunt, but only a second later the tension seeps from his body when you reach into his boxers and palm him. “Let’s see if you were exaggerating or not, hmm?”

Once his boxers are gone, you realize he was, in fact, under exaggerating. He knows it, too, because when you glance up, he’s smirking with pride, one corner of his mouth higher than the other. 

“Whaddaya think?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“How about you see how much that pretty mouth of yours can take?” 

One thing about you and Jungkook is you're both competitive as hell, and you’ll be damned if his whole dick isn’t situated down your throat soon just to prove a point.

Gathering spit in your mouth, you lean directly over his hard cock and let it slowly fall from your lips to his head. You wait for the sound of Jungkook moaning before doing it again, this time actually spitting instead of letting it drip down. Your hand gathers the saliva to spread it over his head and down his shaft. Your best friend is panting above you as he studies the way you work his cock with your hand. 

Jungkook is stupid fucking big, and you genuinely fear he’ll split you in half when you fuck. Not only is his dick long, but it’s so thick your fingertips don’t touch when you grasp him. He’s rock hard and throbbing in your hold and there’s a perfect bead of precum just waiting for you to lick. 

When you do, Jungkook cries out in pleasure and it's hands down the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard. He’s always been the tough one between you, and having him like puddy in your hands is more satisfying than you care to admit. 

Your tongue flattens over his slit and you groan at the taste of his cum, your mouth already watering at the thought of more coming your way. You lick around his head in one long stroke and then circle your tongue just under the sensitive ridge. Jungkook whines at the feeling of your tongue on his aching dick. Your hand is still using your self-made lubricant to glide up and down his shaft. 

“Bams, fuck,” Jungkook pants the words across staccato exhales. 

It’s nearly impossible for you to say no to the man begging for your mouth, so you finally end your teasing and take him between your lips. You suckle on his head and let more saliva drip down his shaft before removing your hand to focus solely on the movements of your mouth. Your hands hold onto his muscular thighs as you finally take him deeper into your throat.

It definitely takes time for your lips and throat to adjust to his size. Each time you slide down his cock you take more of him into your mouth until your nose hits his pelvis. You breathe through your nose and stay there for a moment, swallowing and moaning around him. 

“Oh, shit.” Jungkook looks down at you in awe, watching in wonder at the way your lips stretch around his cock. “Bambi, holy fucking shit.” 

The chuckle you release sends vibrations around Jungkook’s dick and his hips buck up responsively. You moan again and squeeze his thighs, attempting to send a message that he’s free to repeat the action. He must interpret your message accurately because you feel him forming your hair into a makeshift ponytail and thrusting his hips up. 

Jungkook would never want to hurt you, so even though his body is screaming at him to animalisticaly fuck your mouth, his thrusts are shallow and modest.

Even so, his strokes make you gag every time his tip hits the back of your throat. He’s pulling on your hair and the sensation of being used like a sex toy makes your eyes roll back. Tears form and roll down to meet the drool that’s leaking from your mouth. Breathing through your nose, you suck harder to make a tighter fit for him. He’s appreciative, growling and yanking on your hair as a thank you. 

“Shit, I’m gonna come,” he warns you. Hearing his words, you massage his heavy balls in your hand to push him over the edge. A broken moan comes from above you and his hips start to lose their cadence as his orgasm nears. “Can I… your throat…”

His words are clipped, but you understand and squeeze his thigh to give him permission. Within a single moment you start tasting his cum at the back of your throat. Moaning endlessly at how good he tastes, you move your lips up and down his cock as he comes, swallowing his seed and licking him clean at the same time. 

When you’re certain you’ve stolen every last drop and sucked him dry, you come up for air with a harsh gasp.

“Holy fuck,” you curse and massage your jaw. 

Jungkook grabs your chin with his hand and makes you look at him so he can see that you’re alright. You nod assuredly and sit back on your heels. 

“That was, on God, the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Jungkook states. 

You laugh and shove his chest, but he snatches your hand and pulls you towards him. He kisses you like he fucking means it, grabbing the side of your face so you can’t move an inch. Your moans meet in each other’s mouths as Jungkook sucks on your tongue to taste himself. 

“Can we move this party to the bedroom?”

Jungkook nods, his hand still caressing your face, before helping you up so you can both head to your room at the back of the apartment. When the door opens, your grey munchkin cat scurries out from behind the door. 

“Oh, Usagi, I forgot you were in there,” you say as she bolts for her scratching post. 

“Probably a good thing,” Jungkook notes, his eyes gesturing down to his dick still on display. 

You chuckle and grab his hand to lead him into the room before shutting the door behind you. He immediately takes a seat on the bed while you stay standing to pull your pants down your legs. 

Jungkook’s eyes trace the movement, his pupils blowing even wider when he sees your black lace panties and the evident wet spot on them. Reaching his hand out, you take it and stand between his legs. Your hands push his hair back, scratching at his scalp to hear the pretty moan that accompanies the movement. 

He leans forward and kisses your abdomen, just above your panties. You sigh as his lips traverse the expanse of your stomach and hips, leaving a hot, wet trail in their wake. 

“Koo, need you,” you whimper. 

The feeling of his teeth sinking into the skin of your waist makes you jump, but then he soothes the ache with his tongue. 

“You know, since you made me come already, I’m going to have to fuck you in other ways until I’m ready to go again,” he states. You hum in acknowledgment and he rests his chin against you to gaze upwards. “You gonna be able to handle that, Bams?”

“Don’t go making promises you can’t keep.”

Jungkook scoffs and turns you around, slapping your ass harshly before pulling you down into his lap. You yelp at the sudden change in position, but the feeling of his warm chest on your back makes you melt into his embrace. 

“Do you even know me at all, Bams?” He scoffs again. “How many orgasms have you had in one night before?”

“Like… three?”

“Pussy fucking numbers,” he snaps. “We’re aiming for double digits here.”

“Jungkook!” You look over your shoulder at him in shock, but his facial expression is completely serious. “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m really fucking not.” 

“I’ll die.”

Jungkook just shakes his head disapprovingly and licks his lips. He grabs your jaw to turn your head, his hand diving into your hair again to hold you in place so he can ravish your mouth. His kiss has you completely hypnotized and you barely remember the conversation you were just having.

“How about we compromise and aim for five?” He suggests.

You want to kiss him too badly to muster a response, so you just hum in affirmation before turning around and bringing his lips to yours. He pulls you into him as he falls back onto the bed. Your legs return to their position on either side of his muscular thighs, and your lips work earnestly to kiss every inch of his face and jaw until they reach his neck. 

Your clothed cunt grinds over his dick as you mark him with a matching bruise to your own, the friction created by your panties making you groan. You continue to lick and torment the delicate skin of his neck while he guides your movements with his hands. 

All too soon, Jungkook stops you by grabbing your shoulder and you eye him curiously. His eyes flit around the features of your face for a minute. When he smiles in satisfaction, you know he’s got a tantalizing idea for how he’s going to make you come. 

“Sit on my face,” he commands. 

You don’t need to be told twice to get your pussy ate. 

Jungkook moves to the center of the bed and taps his chest to beckon you over. Bending to remove your panties, you look up in surprise when Jungkook halts your actions by grabbing your wrist. 

“How expensive were those?” He asks. 

“$20 maybe.”

“Leave ‘em on, I’ll buy you new ones.”

Sometimes you conveniently forget your best friend is rich until moments like these when he reminds you. 

When you and Jungkook were in college he coded and designed an entire video game in his spare time, because he’s a freaking genius, and then he sold said video game for millions of dollars. Now he works as a lead designer at the biggest video game company in the country and consistently makes six figures. 

Jungkook has a huge dick and an even bigger bank account, and here you thought God made everyone equal.

Shrugging at his instruction, you do as he says and climb onto the bed. As tactfully as possible, you maneuver your legs around Jungkook’s head and sit up on your knees so your core is a few inches above his mouth. His hands hold your hips and he takes the time to trace over your curves while looking up at your pussy slowly soaking the lace of your underwear. 

After several long moments of eager anticipation, he yanks you down by your thighs until the tip of his nose is tickling you. Your head tips back as you sigh, the feeling of his nose rubbing against your clit through your underwear satiating the craving for his touch. He presses a few chaste kisses to the black fabric as he nuzzles his nose into your cunt to give you more friction. You grip his hair beneath you as he continues to tease you with featherlight touches of his nose and mouth. 

“Koo, don’t,” you beg. 

His only reply is a hum and you feel the vibrations from it against your core. Then he bites at your underwear to give him access to your pussy before licking you from bottom to top. The fabric sinks between your folds as Jungkook’s tongue presses the panties into you and the friction feels unbelievable on your clit. 

Your hand yanks on his hair in appreciation as he continues to eat you out and use your sopping wet panties to pleasure you. 

Once he’s ready for more, his hands move towards your cunt and a loud ripping sound permeates the air. You gasp when you feel him throw your torn panties to the side before forcing your pussy down harder on his face. He collects all the essence you’re leaking with an erotic slurping sound. His tongue slides through your folds and fucks into your hole while his nose continues to apply pressure to your clit.

“Holy shit, Jungkook.”

He laughs against your pussy and slows down just enough so you can hear him.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Bams.”

Your free hand claws at the bed frame haphazardly as he eats you like it’s his goddamn job. He kisses your cunt messily, spitting into it and smearing your cum around his face along with his own salvia. His tongue travels up to your clit and the pure, unadulterated pleasure makes you scream. When he flattens the muscle against your sensitive nub you swear you’ll fall over, but his hands on your thighs are still holding you steady above him. 

“Koo, holy fuck.” Your head tips back and your nails bite into the fabric of the headboard. “Make me come, please.”

Jungkook moans responsively beneath you and dives in even deeper, licking you menacingly without reprieve while guiding your hips to ride his face. You take the hint and begin moving your hips on your own, letting your pussy press against all the outlines of his face as his tongue laps up your juices. 

He returns to your clit again and scrapes his teeth against it, causing tears to escape from your waterline as you whimper. Soothing the ache of his bite with his tongue, he slows to a tortuous pace as he kitten licks you for a while. You’re crying continuously now, your hips desperately seeking anything they can get as you move across his face in an erratic rhythm. Jungkook takes pity on you and finally sucks your clit into his mouth before moaning so he can send you right over the edge.

Your hand sinks further into Jungkook’s hair and your nails scratch his scalp as you come all over his face. The bedframe rocks from how hard you’re holding on while your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. Absolute, unbridled euphoria moves through you and makes your eyes roll back. 

Jungkook continues to lick your cunt until you jump from the oversensitivity and move away from his face. You hear a disappointed groan as you crash onto the bed beside him. 

“You taste so fucking good, Bams,” he tells you. “I could do that all fucking night.”

Chest swelling with pride, you’re about to reply when you feel something against your back and frown in confusion. The scratchy material rubs awkwardly against you and you bend away from it to grab it. 

Your soaked, ripped panties dangle from your fingers as you click your tongue and throw them into the trash can. 

“You’re a fucking gremlin,” you note.

Jungkook doesn’t respond to your statement, he just maintains eye contact while moving to kneel before pulling you closer by the waist. The pretty vision of him above you makes your breath hitch. 

His hand travels ostentatiously from your neck all the way down to your hip, lighting an internal fire within you wherever his touch goes. You wait with bated breath as his fingers dance across your skin until they reach your center. Jungkook deliberately teases you, his fingertips just barely touching your clit before moving away again.

You hiss and grab his wrist so his hand can’t move towards your pussy again.

“What?” Jungkook smiles down at you with a tilt of his head. “You’re not ready for more yet? We’re only at one of five, Bambi, we’ve got a lot more work to do.” He twists his hand out of your hold and presses down on your clit. You whimper and silently beg him with your eyes. “Plus, I’m an overachiever, so you know five is really going to be more like seven.”

“Seven?”

“Ilgop.”

“Fuck, don’t speak Korean to me right now. You know how hot it gets me.”

Jungkook giggles, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You smile at the sound and run your fingers through his hair. 

He takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, and you instinctively lean your head away to give him more of you. His lips caress you gently for a while, but then he growls against your throat and grabs your jaw to hold you still. Your gasp settles into a moan and Jungkook takes it as a cue to continue playing with your pussy. His fingers circle your clit and your noises become even needier. He dips into your folds to collect your cum so he can rub over your nerve endings and it nearly expels all the air from your lungs. 

Jungkook  touches you like he’s done it a million times already and that thought alone leaves you breathless. 

“Koo, baby, please,” you whimper in a tone even you don’t recognize. Jungkook’s big, boba eyes are back when he captures your gaze to wordlessly ask what you’re begging him for. “I don’t want to come. I want you.”

A dazzling smile appears on Jungkook’s lips, and a pretty, pink blush spreads across his cheeks and turns the tips of his ears red. 

“Alright, Bambi,” he responds with a peck. “Condom?”

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him in for more kisses.

“I’m on birth control.”

Jungkook kisses you again before you can do so yourself.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod against his lips. “Want you raw, Koo.”

“Fuck,” Jungkook chuckles. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Jungkook goes to pump his cock with his hand, but before he has the chance, you bring his palm to your lips and spit into it. He groans, his eyes rolling back, as he reaches down and uses your spit to fuck his hand. 

Your eyes follow the movement of his wrist jerking himself off. It’s honestly mouthwatering to watch his thick cockhead push past his fingers as he gets himself hard again for you. 

He kisses your shoulder and collarbone, then licks up your neck until he reaches your ear. His teeth softly sink into the cartilage. 

“You ready for me, Bams?” 

His deep voice melts your insides into goo and forces your brain into another frequency. Everything is static except for the feeling of his body hovering above yours. 

All you do is nod your head in response to his question.

Jungkook’s tip pushes past your tight circle of nerves and already you feel too full to function. A wanton gasp and whimper follow the intrusion as he slowly enters you for the first time. Your nails create crescents on his shoulders as you inhale through your nose to relieve the pressure in your core.

“Koo… you’re so fucking big,” you whine. 

“I know, I know,” he chuckles. 

He kisses your temple appreciatively. 

By the time his entire cock is deep within your walls, his pelvis pressing against your own, you already feel yourself losing it. Jungkook fills you up completely, and you can barely bring yourself to exhale the air you’re holding in. 

“Fuck, Bambi, are you a virgin or some shit?”

“You know damn well I’m not a virgin,” you grit.

Jungkook groans deeply as his head falls forward and his hair tickles your cheeks when he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Then what the fuck are you so fucking tight for?” 

You loudly hum and pretend to think it over before glancing at him with a sultry tilt of your head.

“I think my pussy’s just that good,” you say. Pulling his face down so it’s only centimeters away, you let your lips brush for a split second before replying. “And it’s all yours, Jungkook. So fuck me like you mean it.”

Jungkook rears back and ferociously thrusts into you before your next breath can even exit your lungs. 

“Oh, fuck!” 

A sinister chuckle comes from your best friend.

“Be careful what you wish for.”

Any semblance of control is forcefully taken away when Jungkook grabs your hands and slams them into the mattress above your head. Simultaneously, he begins pumping his cock into you at a disastrous pace and you can’t do anything but incoherently moan. 

There’s no adjustment period, no slow-moving start. Jungkook is already fucking you like a goddamn ragdoll made solely for his pleasure. 

“Koo, oh my fucking God,” you cry. It’s barely been a minute and hot, salty tears are already streaming down your face. 

Jungkook kisses you and his moans filter into your mouth. His grip on your hands is bruising and it makes you whimper pathetically against his lips.  

“Jungkook,” you sob as he abuses your pussy. 

“Shh, shh.” He kisses you gently. “You can take it.” He kisses your cheek and up the side of your face. “I got you, Bams.”

You keen and your hands clasp around Jungkook’s in an effort to protect whatever’s left of your sanity. 

His cock is buried in your pussy but you swear you feel yourself choking on him in your throat. Everytime his tip kisses your cervix you fear being split in two and yet there’s nothing you want more than for him to continue. You want him to rip you in half if it means feeling this full. He’s combining his strokes with a grind of his hips and it makes your cunt greedy for him, sucking him inside and squeezing his cock so he’ll never leave again. 

Jungkook is throbbing and scorching hot inside you and the heat travels from your pussy throughout your entire body, lighting a fire in your bones and between your muscles that only he has the ability to stifle. 

Your senses are amped up to ten and you scream over how deep he’s sending his dick into you. 

The fire escapes externally when Jungkook releases your hands to explore your body instead. They travel down your entire outline until they find your hips and he tilts them upwards to create a new angle. 

“Fuck, I always knew your pussy would feel this good,” he grunts. “You’re a fucking dream.”

The combination of the closer angle and Jungkook’s praises genuinely turns you to ruins, scattering pieces of your soul around and covering them in ivy. You kiss him again even though you know there’s no use, you’re shattered already. You devour his mouth, responding to his compliment through the movement of your lips instead of the words your body can’t produce at the moment. 

Your fingers tilt his head so you can mouth at his sharp jaw, letting your tongue slide across his skin as he growls in your ear. Alternating between biting and kissing, you soak his honey skin in your spit and listen for the moans coming from deep within his chest. 

“You feel so good, Koo,” you whisper into his ear. “Your cock fills me up so fucking well.”

“Shit,” he grunts. Jungkook grabs your thighs and pulls them up higher until you’re practically bent in half, your knees next to his shoulders. “So fucking good. You take me like a fucking champ, Bambi.”

Jungkook slows his pace by a hair, but only so he can thrust into you harder. Each clap of your skin connecting pulls a pornographic moan from your throat. You feel his balls slapping against your ass and the way your bodies are pressing together adds just the right amount of pressure on your clit. 

It makes for a mind boggling combination that has your brain disintegrating into nothingness. 

Your next orgasm is looming just around the corner. It builds inside you like a rollercoaster slowly moving up the track. Jungkook ups his pace again when he feels the telltale signs of your cunt pulsing and tightening around him like a vice. 

“Cream my cock, Bams,” he commands. “C’mon, beautiful.”

A splintering gasp chokes you as you obey and come around his dick, coating his entire shaft in white essence. 

The climax is brain chemistry altering. It feels as though your blood is ablaze and your heart can’t beat fast enough to push it through your body. Your legs clamp around his waist as they shake and convulse from the pleasure. All the while, Jungkook continues fucking his cock into your hole and sending you straight into oversensitivity subspace. 

You’re still catching your breath when you grab Jungkook tightly by the shoulder to halt his movements. He looks at you with curious eyes, but he doesn’t completely stop, just slows down significantly and thrusts shallowly into you.

“Wanna ride you, Koo,” you tell him. “Wanna make you come so you can stuff me and watch it drip out.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, his teeth grinding together. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, you can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to bust!”

You laugh mischievously as he grabs you by the waist to flip you both over. Your bodies are only parted for a mere moment before you’re sinking back down onto his dick and scratching at his pecs with your nails. 

“Oh my God, I didn’t think it was possible for you to reach any further inside me,” you note.

“Of course, Bambi, gonna rearrange your fucking guts,” Jungkook proudly states.

It’s disturbing how exciting the thought of that is.

The rhythm of your hips is nowhere near as monstrous, letting his cock slowly leave your cunt before feeling him fill you up again one inch at a time. Using his chest to stabilize yourself, your thighs work religiously to bounce and fuck yourself on him. You look towards the ceiling, a groan rising from your throat due to his thick cock pressing against your walls and hitting just the right spot inside you. 

Jungkook reaches up to play with your tits dangling over his face, massaging them in his big hands before pushing them together. His fingers pinch your nipples until they’re pebbled and stiff. He leans forward to take one into his mouth and you have to grab onto his hair for support. 

He smacks your ass and you yelp, but you understand the message he’s trying to send and pick up the pace. You push him back down and lean over so your hard nipples are pressing against the heat of his chest. 

“Atta girl,” he praises with another stinging slap of his hand on your ass. His digits make a home in your hair again and he uses the leverage to force you to stare into his eyes. “Pussy s’fucking good, Bams.” Jungkook kisses across your neck torturously slow before speaking again. “So fucking tight, warm, wet… could stay in here for-fucking-ever.”

“Koo,” you whisper breathlessly.

Your hips swivel in desperation to send his dick as deep as it can go, honestly hoping your guts do part for him so his cock can nestle permanently inside you. 

“You gonna come again?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good,” he speaks into your ear. “Come on my big, fat cock, babygirl.”

The moan you let out is the most humiliating sound to ever come from your body. 

Luckily, no more are able to escape because Jungkook kisses you senseless. His tongue shoves into your mouth and licks around your own as you bounce on him as fast as your thighs will allow. He perpetuates your efforts by grasping your hips and rolling his own against you. It creates the perfect amount of friction on your clit and sends you tumbling into a pool of ecstasy.

“Fuck, Jungkook!”

You weep over the intensity of your orgasm while he continues kissing you. Not wanting to lose an ounce of momentum, Jungkook takes over for you as your orgasm paralyzes your mind. 

He fucks you relentlessly to bring about his own climax and the sound of your skin clapping together is so loud you worry it will shake your doorframe and alert the neighbors. 

“Gonna fill you up, Bams,” he warns you. 

He thrusts hard once, twice, sending his cock so deep you swear you see your stomach bulge, and then he grunts and a strangled cry breaks from his lips as he paints your pussy with his cum.

The heat of it makes your eyes roll into your skull.

You kiss him through the come down, slowly traversing across the bottom half of his face and scraping his jaw with your teeth. He moans weakly, the hand still in your hair moving down to your neck and squeezing it affectionately. You make out as he goes flaccid within you, the mixture of your juices slowly dripping out and soaking your thighs. 

Jungkook grabs your ass in both hands and massages the fatty flesh like he owns it, giving you one final spank to tint your skin red in the shape of his hand.

“Jungkook,” you mumble against his lips. “That was s’fucking good.”

A prideful chuckle meets your ears as Jungkook rests his head against the pillows to gaze up at you. 

“Yeah? Told you we’d have fun,” he brags. 

Lifting yourself off of him, you curse at the sticky mess between your legs. In one motion, you swing your leg over Jungkook’s thighs and fall down next to him with a bounce. You’ll worry about the sheets being drenched in the morning. 

Jungkook grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles before holding it against his heart thumping wildly in his chest. 

“Thanks for trying something new with me, Bams,” he says sincerely. 

Your eyes meet with twin smiles. Running your fingers through his hair, you tuck a piece behind his ear and lean in to give him a final peck of gratitude. 

It takes a minute for your body to stop screaming at you so you can stand. When you head for the bathroom, Usagi meows angrily from her spot just beyond the door. You coo at her and bend down to scratch under her chin.

“I’m sowwy, baby,” you apologize to the little creature. 

She saunters right past you to hop on the bed and curl up next to Jungkook who’s covering his bare body with your comforter. His eyes light up when he sees her approaching and he bends down to kiss her little head repeatedly until she meows at him to stop. 

You return from the bathroom in a large sleep shirt fresh from the dryer and toss a pair of equally fresh sweats to Jungkook. Both items are originally his, anyway. 

He eyes you knowingly when he clocks the familiar article of clothing. His tongue clicks with a single shake of his head before he’s slipping the pants on and securing them around his hips.

“You want me to sleep on the couch like usual?” He asks with his arms behind his head. 

You scoff affectionately.

“You already look pretty comfortable right there, Koo,” you retort.

“Oh, I am.” He pets Usagi dramatically as she purrs. “And Usagi wants me here, you can’t so no to her!” 

“You’re right, I can’t.”

Jungkook lifts the covers so you can join him in the snuggle puddle he and your cat are partaking in. You make yourself comfortable beneath the sheets and he mirrors you, much to Usagi’s chagrin since she’s sequestered to the foot of the bed to accommodate the extra body. 

It takes you all of thirty seconds to fall asleep once your head hits the pillow, and Jungkook is already halfway into dreamland himself when you do. 

You wake with a pounding headache and unbelievably sore thighs. Groaning at the aches and pains, you leave your bed and attempt to walk normally even though you feel like you got fucked by a semitruck instead of your best friend. It’s a mess of stumbling feet and running into furniture corners as you groggily head to the kitchen for some pain pills. 

Grabbing some for Jungkook after swallowing your own, you head back and set them along with a water bottle on your nightstand for when he wakes up. 

The smell of breakfast must coax Jungkook back into the land of the living because he stumbles out from your bedroom soon after it’s ready. You laugh at the way his hair sticks up in a million directions and his eyes barely open. 

“Morning, sunshine,” you sing-song.

He only greets you with a wave as he heads towards your bathroom. 

When he emerges again he looks slightly more put together, at least, you can see his big, brown eyes again as he makes his way to you.

“Morning,” he says. 

“Brekkie?”

You push a plate of assorted breakfast food towards him before turning around to place your own in the sink. He eats with that lovable scowl on his face which indicates you successfully cooked him a worthwhile meal. 

Neither of you bring up the events which took place last night because you don’t need to, there’s no unspoken tension or uncomfortable vibes floating around. Jungkook was right when he said nothing can come between you, and as fun as it was, now everything just goes back to normal.

It does not stay normal for long.

ONE

Women are beautiful, complex, intricate beings, whose bodies and minds can do extraordinary things. Women can move mountains when they strive to and you’re proud to call yourself one. 

Simultaneously, they can be dumbasses who can’t remember when their last period was. 

While sitting at your desk typing up a bullshit report for some bullshit exec who can’t be bothered to read his own emails, you open the drawer on your left. It houses all your office essentials like pens, tape, paper clips, and tampons. 

Your head tilts as you examine the colorful packaging you haven’t seen in a while. There seems to be a lot of them, especially since you usually run out and have to restock halfway through hell week.

Glancing up at your calendar, you count the weeks backwards and then flip it one month prior to check the exact date. 

You laugh aloud to yourself, because, surely, you just forgot to mark the calendar like you always do and you don’t remember restocking the tampons after your period ended. That must be the case because there’s no way in hell you’re two weeks late. It’s simply an impossibility and abundantly more plausible that your memory is failing you rather than your body. 

The skin of your lower lip is bitten raw as your eyes flit between the calendar and the menstrual products which are both staring into your soul. If they could speak, you think they’d be saying “we know what you did.” 

Pushing away from your desk, you take a deep breath and decide the best course of action is to walk around the office. 

Maybe seeing the inside of a bathroom stall will jog your memory of the last time you were bleeding, or passing by the kitchen will force you to recall when you last grabbed some extra candies from the community bowl. 

It’s all for nought. Your excursion around the building is an utter failure, and suddenly the walls of the office feel as though they’re closing in on you. 

Deciding to head home after lunch because you can’t focus anyway, you stop at the corner store by your house and grip your purse strap to stop your hands from shaking as you enter the women’s health aisle. The hundreds of pregnancy tests glare at you from their place on the shelf and you have to sink your teeth into your battered lower lip again to stop anxious tears from forming. 

This must be some horrible nightmare, you tell yourself. You’re gonna wake up and realize you fell asleep at your desk because your job is just that boring. The sharp pinch you apply to your arm forces you to stop lying to yourself.

Groaning in frustration, you analyze both the brands and prices of the demonic little fortune tellers and choose two each from multiple different brands because you need to be real fucking sure. 

You’re two years shy of thirty and you still feel like you’re having a teen pregnancy scare. 

The woman behind the counter is smiling as she places the tests into a bag. It’s probably because she believes you’ll be ecstatic about a positive result and run straight home to tell your husband. Most women your age would be doing so, but you don’t have a husband, you have a childhood best friend who you decided to hook up with for funsies. 

The abundant traffic you hit on the way home only makes your swirling whirlpool of nerves worse, and by the time you’re unlocking your apartment door and rushing to the bathroom, your lip is bleeding from how much skin you’ve ripped. 

You bought six tests, like a crazy person, and so it takes a couple minutes for you to successfully pee on all of them and place them on the counter with their caps on. Setting your phone timer for three minutes, you sit on the toilet seat to wait the eternity of 180 seconds. 

The anticipation eats away at your insides like sulfuric acid, and your leg bounces forcefully as though you’re going through withdrawal. 

Your mind is somersaulting over itself and flopping on the ground like a fish out of water as you wonder how this is even possible. You’re on birth control, and you checked your pills before leaving work; you didn’t miss a single one. 

There’s always the horror stories about the unlucky .01% of women whose contraceptives fail due to stress or poor health, but you don’t think that applies to you. Sure, you don’t join Jungkook at the gym, and work makes you wanna pull your hair out, but you feel great most days. 

The timer derails your train of thought with an incessant buzz. Glancing at the counter, you reach for one of the tests with shaking hands as you pray for the right result. 

Once you find the courage to actually look, your heart stops, and when you stand to see your plethora of pregnancy tests side by side, your eyes bulge from your skull. 

Staring back at you like the fates themselves are three matching sets of a plus sign, two parallel lines, and the word “pregnant.”

Hands slapping against your mouth, you gasp into your palms as reality forces its way into the bathroom with you. Your eyes squeeze shut as tears break from the confines of your waterline. You shake your head a couple times, trying to get your mind files back into their rightful places. It doesn’t work, and all the papers which make up your consciousness go flying all over the place. 

The cacophony of emotions on top of your disembodied mind forces your senses to scramble and discombobulate. 

You’re scared, worried, sad, confused, and shocked, but somewhere inside you’re happy, too. Being a mom is a huge dream of yours and even if it’s unexpected, it’s still a dream come true. 

Unfortunately, happiness is the lowest emotion on the totem pole, and your negative emotions are much closer to the surface. 

Running your hands down your face, you gaze at the tests as a sob shakes through you. You brace your hands on the counter and allow yourself to cry through all of the emotions. The heavy tears drop into the sink below you one by one as you decide what to do next.

First things first, you have to tell the baby’s father.

“Fuck, he’s gonna fucking kill me.” Tipping your head back to send the loose tears back from whence they came, you blow air from your mouth and close your eyes. “He’s gonna hate me. He’s gonna lose his shit and never wanna see me again and I’m gonna —” A sob slices through your windpipe and causes your voice to break. “I’m gonna lose him.”

You hug your knees and let yourself freefall until your butt meets the tile. The floor is cold and your muscles ache from the force of your crash into the ground, but it serves as a momentary distraction from your mental anguish. The sound of your sorrow fills the space as you take heaving breaths and soak your jeans with tears. Usagi scratches at the door and the sound of her little paws calling for you breaks your heart.

Stretching towards the door, you reach and turn the doorknob just enough for it to open. 

You watch fondly as your cat’s little legs carry her to your side. When she reaches you, she jumps into your lap and curls into an adorable ball of love. Fresh tears fall over the sweet affection she’s giving you, and you bend down to kiss her and rub your face in her fur.

“You’re gonna be a big sister, Usagi,” you tell her. 

Eventually, you calm down enough to stand and find your phone. You don’t think you can handle Jungkook’s voice right now, so you text him to come over whenever he’s free. He replies within a few minutes saying he’s got one more meeting and then he’ll be there. You mindlessly stare at his text message as anxiety simmers in your gut. This might just be the one thing that finally comes between you two. 

When Jungkook arrives you’re pacing in a trance around the living room. He unlocks the door with his key and kicks it open since his hands are full with takeout containers. Your eyes threaten to water when you realize he’s bringing you dinner without you asking. 

Your best friend is thoughtful, deliberate, and so, so kind, and here you are about to shatter his world as he knows it.

At the very second his two feet step into your apartment, you scurry across the floor and throw your arms around his neck. He takes an involuntary step back and drops the bags when you barrel into him, a deep chuckle coming from his chest that you feel against your own. 

“Bams?” 

You manhandle the emotions trying to escape back into their cages. You want, no, need, at least one more moment with him as you are now, before everything changes forever.

His arms wrap around you on instinct, one of his hands resting on the back of your head to cradle you closer. 

“Sorry,” you say as you reluctantly let go. “Rough day.”

“Well, I brought kimchi fried rice, so it can’t be that rough,” he jokes. 

You fake a smile and nod in agreement before grabbing one of the containers to bring it to the kitchen. Once he places the second one down, you tap your nails against the countertop and contemplate whether or not to wait. Jungkook, clearly oblivious to your turmoil, is already moving towards the fridge to grab a drink before sitting on the couch. It’s now or never, you suppose.

Each step you take to stand across from him feels like trudging through concrete and the overwhelming anxiety is gnawing at you like a wild animal. The notion that this could be the last time you see him smiling at you or have the ability to hear him laugh is debilitating.

You click your heels once you’re opposite him on the other side of the coffee table. He raises an eyebrow at you in a silent question, but you ignore his confusion and fill your lungs with the charged air.

“I’m pregnant.”

You didn't know silence could be so deafening. 

Jungkook’s cola bottle falls from his hands onto the floor with a plastic boing sound. The noise feels inappropriate for the tension of the room. His pupils are shaking as his eyes grow in size exponentially and the skin between his eyebrows creases as his lips part. Even from here you can see his mouth’s run completely dry. 

You take another deep breath, but you aren’t able to stop your emotions from leaking out anymore. 

“And I’m really, really scared,” you say as your voice breaks. 

Jungkook immediately snaps out of his daze when he hears your tone of voice, all of his previously tense features softening as he stands to reach you. 

The next thing you know, his warm hands are caressing your cheeks as he brushes the tears away.

“Hey, hey, Bambi,” he whispers. “It’s okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” You cry harder at the gentle nature of his voice, like he’s worried he’ll break you if he talks too loud. “I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got me, alright? We’ve got each other. That's all that matters.”

“You aren’t mad?” 

“Mad?” Jungkook tilts his head in confusion. “You thought I would be mad at you, Bams?” You nod as best you can with your face caught between his hands. Jungkook frowns deeply. “Why would I be mad?”

“Because… because my birth control fucking failed and now we’re… we’re gonna be parents and —”

“That’s not your fault,” Jungkook interrupts. “I’m the one who creampied you, Bambi.”

“Yeah, but I told you to.”

“Oh, I assure you, I would’ve asked if you hadn’t.”

Despite your current emotional state, you laugh at his explanation. Your tears slowly, but surely, subside after a few more minutes. Gripping his wrists, you remove his hands from your face and hold them instead. 

“I’m still sorry,” you say quietly. 

“Don’t apologize,” he responds, then tilts your chin up. “You’re gonna make me a dad, Bams. That’s nothing to apologize for.”

The sigh of relief you exhale is exuberant. A smile creeps onto your face and Jungkook mirrors the expression before a mischievous grin appears instead. 

He encompasses your waist and lifts you into the air in one swoop, you screech at the sudden movement and koala him to keep yourself from falling. He giggles incessantly as he spins you both around in circles in the middle of your living room. 

“Koo! Put me down!”  

He obeys after a moment, but not before bending his knees to dip you down towards the floor. You squeal until a fit of laughter overtakes you as he slowly brings you both back up to his full height. 

“I’m so happy, Bams, you have no idea,” he tells you wholeheartedly. 

Once the laughter subsides, you inhale fondly and caress his jaw with one of your hands.

“Me, too,” you admit. 

A full blown bunny smile greets you and Jungkook nuzzles his nose against yours, making you giggle and blush a rosy pink hue. When your feet are on the earth again, you head for the kitchen, but Jungkook stops you with a hand to your forearm.

“Can I…” Jungkook begins to ask, his eyes glancing towards your stomach. 

“Can you what, Koo?” 

“Can I, ya know, touch?” 

Looking down at your stomach, which is still identical to its normal size, you raise an eyebrow at him, but find yourself nodding yes anyway.

He giggles delightfully and places his palm over your abdomen, where soon enough you’ll have a baby bump. 

“Man, this is fucking awesome.” You find yourself chuckling at his excitement over literally nothing at all yet. “Can I come to your doctor’s appointments?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to go to them without you,” you answer. “I still have to make the first one. I only took the tests a couple hours ago.” 

“Were you alone?” He’s frowning as he asks, regret evident in his tone. 

“Usagi was there.”

Jungkook scoffs, chuckling knowingly as he shakes his head and follows you into the kitchen. 

You eat together as though you didn’t just deliver life alternating news. Which honestly, is the only outcome that ever would’ve come to fruition. Perhaps the staggering emotions of finding out you’re pregnant made you forget just how much you two love and care for each other. Your friendship is backed by nearly three decades of time spent together, and even something as massive as a baby can’t shake that foundation. 

What might shake the foundation of a house is the screams of joy your mothers are going to let out when you tell them. They’ve been begging you for a shared grandchild since you graduated college. 

Jungkook is supportively holding your hand as you two stand on the front porch of your house, which is conveniently down the street from his house, because that’s just how close your parents are. You can’t blame them, you’re sure you and Jungkook will be the same one day, especially now. 

The memories of your childhood are flooding through your mind while you stand in the familiar location. It gets you thinking about all the new memories you’ll make with your own child one day. 

Releasing the tension from your neck, you nod at Jungkook to let him know you’re ready. He returns the gesture and lets go of your hand to knock on the door. Unsurprisingly, it’s his mother’s face who comes into view from the other side of the screen door.

“Oh, Kookie! What are you two doing here?” She asks cheerfully.

“What are you doing here, Mom?” Jungkook asks as he hugs her. 

“Oh, you know I practically live here.”

You laugh, knowing how right she is, and give her a big, bear hug. Her comforting presence always eases your anxieties, especially now when you’re worried about their reaction to your news. 

She guides you through the house as though it’s her own and leads you into the kitchen where your mom is cooking dinner. You greet her with a hug and kiss on the cheek as she stirs the pot on the stove. Jungkook follows suit, resting his head on her shoulder as he hugs her side. 

Your mom tells you she’s nearly done and to go sit. She joins you a few minutes later after turning the stove off and removing the food from the heat.

“Seriously, kids, what did you come all this way for?” Jungkook’s mom asks once you’re all sitting around the kitchen table. 

“It’s not that far,” you say. 

“No, but you two never show up unannounced like this,” your mom states. 

“We have something to tell you,” Jungkook says. 

His hand finds yours under the table and gives it a comforting squeeze, out of the eyesight of your mothers. Your petrified eyes flicker towards him, but he just nods and smiles reassuringly at you. You lick your lips and sit up as a way of giving yourself a moment of reprieve before you change the entire atmosphere of the home. 

“I’m pregnant,” you announce. “We’re having a baby.”

“WE?” They scream in unison. 

You instantly lose all their attention. They’re too busy screaming like school girls while clasping their hands together and shaking them in excitement. You and Jungkook share a sideways glance and have to suppress a laugh. 

“When did this happen? How long have you been dating?” Your mom asks.

Both your faces pale at her question, not thinking far enough ahead to prepare for these types of inquiries.

“Um, we’re not,” you tell her. 

“What do you mean, you’re not? How did you get pregnant then?”

Jungkook awkwardly clears his throat and messes with the collar of his shirt as tension fills the room. Never in a million years did you think you’d be talking about your and Jungkook’s sexscapades with your moms. 

“We just hooked up, a one time thing,” you answer. 

“So, you’re not together?” His mom wonders. You both shake your heads, hating the look of disappointment that crosses their features. “Are you gonna try?”

“Maybe… maybe one day, Mom,” Jungkook answers. “But right now we just wanna focus on being the best parents we can be.” 

They reluctantly accept his answer before moving onto all the nitty gritty details like asking when your next appointment is, if you’re going to find out the gender, etc. 

The four of you eat dinner together but unfortunately, your dads are away on a fishing trip together, so you don’t get to tell them the news tonight. Your moms promise to relay their reactions to you through the phone upon their return. 

With your parents out of the way, your friends are up next to bat, but you don’t expect that announcement to go as well as this one. 

Your first gynecologist appointment is the following week, and you and Jungkook both take the day off from work so you can go together. It’s pretty nerve wracking, but you’re mostly excited to see the first ultrasound pictures of your little peanut. 

Jungkook drives you to the appointment in his black Mercedes Benz and it lowkey makes you feel like his knocked up sugar baby. He didn’t grow up with money, so he’s still humble, but he definitely enjoys splurging on his choice of car, if anything. It’s certainly not a bad thing to be having a kid with someone who’s financially well off, but you hate taking advantage of Jungkook’s wealth even when he offers. 

He reverses the car into a parking spot, his arm moving to the headrest behind you as he looks over his shoulder to fit in the space. Upon exiting the car, you come around the hood where Jungkook is waiting for you with his hand out. You take it without a second thought and lace his fingers with yours as you walk into the dauntingly large medical building together. 

Your foot rapidly taps against the elevator as it inches up to the third floor. When the doors open after what feels like an eternity, the office can only be described as a haven for expecting mothers.

Everywhere in sight there are women with swollen bellies of varying degrees, most of them accompanied by their doting partners. As you scan the room, you notice one thing in common with almost all of them; they all have big, shiny rings on their fingers. 

You pout instinctually, green envy coating your insides. It’s not as though you’ve been hunting for a husband, it’s honestly been the last thing on your mind, but you’d be lying if you said you aren’t jealous they have spouses and you have a baby daddy. You love Jungkook, more than anything in the world, and there isn’t anyone else you can imagine having a kid with, but it’s not the same as these men and women looking at their pregnant partners like they hung the stars in the sky. 

Jungkook notices your unintentional scowl and tugs on your hand to grab your attention. He raises an eyebrow at you, but you just shake your head and proceed towards the reception desk. 

“Hi, an appointment under Jeon,” you tell the woman behind the desk. You hear Jungkook make a noise of curiosity from beside you. “Figured we should do everything under the baby’s last name, it’s simpler that way.”

“The baby’s gonna have my last name?” 

His eyes sparkle with wonder and your heart soars.

“Yeah, you’re the dad, Koo.”

“I know, but I thought since we aren’t together —”

“No,” you cut him off. “It’s baby Jeon, a hundred percent.” 

He smiles so big his eyes disappear and his bunny teeth make an appearance. You roll your eyes affectionately before turning your attention back to the receptionist as she hands you a clipboard with some paperwork to complete.  

Both of you have to call your respective mothers at one point while filling out the extensive medical history forms. Once the twenty or so pages are complete, Jungkook returns it to the receptionist before joining you again in the waiting room. You sit with identical bouncing knees as the minutes tick by in heavy anticipation.

When your name is finally called, the two of you leap up and hurry over to the nurse who’ll lead you to the observation room.

They take some vitals, draw your blood for the formal pregnancy test, and go over the paperwork, getting the more mundane, administrative details out the way before handing you a gown and instructing you to lay down for the ultrasound. 

Jungkook excitedly rubs his palms together and stomps his feet when the nurse leaves and you get ready to see your baby for the first time. 

Ever the gentleman, he looks everywhere but at you as you strip to put the gown on, which is so adorable you almost combust. He put a baby in you and yet he’s respectful enough to look away when you undress in front of him, what a fucking doll. 

Your feet tap an unknown melody against the stirrups as you wait and Jungkook scrolls on his phone absentmindedly. The doctor alerts you with a short knock before opening the door and popping her head in.

“Hi, you guys,” she greets you. She shakes Jungkook’s hand and then yours before rolling a stool over to sit between your legs. “How are you both doing?”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Good, good,” she smiles. “So, great news, you are indeed pregnant! Based on your hormone levels it looks like you’re about eight weeks along.”

Even though you know the exact date and time your baby was conceived, the sensual moment permanently etched into your memory, and it’s impossible to be anything else besides divine intervention, you still sigh in relief over everything lining up as it should. 

“Before we get to the ultrasound, I just want to go over a couple things that I always do with new parents, alright?” 

“Sure,” you agree with a smile. 

“Okay, we won’t be discussing labor and delivery until you’re a little farther along because there’s a lot to take in at first and it can be pretty overwhelming,” she explains. “I just want to make sure you both are in a good place, have everything you need from me, and availability to any resources you may need during this time.” She looks at you expectantly and you nod your head to convey you understand. “Alright, so tell me a little bit about yourselves.”

You gesture towards Jungkook and he points to his chest with his hand. When you nod, he clears his throat and sits up straighter.

“Hi, Jungkook, she calls me Koo,” he starts. “I’m a head video game designer and have a house just outside the city. I have a Doberman named Bam. I box in my free time… not sure what else you need to know.”

“No, that’s great,” she reassures him. She turns her attention to you.

“I’m Y/N, but he calls me Bambi, and don’t ask, we can’t remember why,” you laugh. “I’m an administrative assistant and rent an apartment in the city and have a munchkin cat named Usagi. In my free time I read, mostly.”

“So, you two don’t live together?” You both shake your heads. “Are you exes, just haven’t moved in together yet, something else?” 

“Best friends,” you tell her. Then, because it’s confusing for most people that you’re pregnant with your best friend’s baby, you continue. “We decided to have some fun one night and now we’re gonna be having fun together for the next 18 years.”

She laughs lightheartedly at your story.

“Alright, I like the sound of that. You’re supposed to be going through this with your best friend, anyway,” she says. “How long have you known one another?”

“I was strapped in a baby carrier to my mom’s chest in the hospital room while she was being born,” Jungkook states.

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah,” you add.

“Well, that’s great, you two! You’ve got a long history together and that can only make for wonderful teamwork.”

There are some more details you discuss regarding the first trimester and the vitamins you’ll be taking. You go over the common symptoms for this time frame and how best to remedy them. Once that’s settled, she finally pulls out the ultrasound machine and you get jittery just from the sight. You’re so eager to see your baby and when Jungkook joins you by your side, he radiates the same energy. He’s sitting to your left now and you bend your arm up to hold his hand. Jungkook smiles at your actions and clasps his hand around yours with a tight squeeze. 

Jumping when you feel the cool gel on your skin, you ignore the novel sensation and wait impatiently for the image of your baby to appear on the monitor. 

Before you see anything, a steady, rhythmic thumping plays throughout the room. 

You and Jungkook gasp in unison.

“And that’s a heartbeat,” the doctor says with a big smile. 

Jungkook rests his head on yours and your free hand wraps around to tousle his hair affectionately. 

The visual on the screen doesn’t make much sense at first, but then the doctor pauses her movements along your abdomen and clicks the keyboard to take some still shots. 

“So, this is your baby,” she says while pointing to the small peanut shape amongst all the black and white fuzziness. “They’re about the size of a kidney bean right now.”

“A kidney bean!” Jungkook cheers. “How flippin’ cute.”

You giggle while glancing back at him. His starry eyes are shining and glossy while he admires the monitor showing him his future child.

“Are you two going to find out the gender? That will happen at your twelve-week follow up.”

“No, we’re gonna keep it a surprise,” you answer. 

“Great choice, it’s always so fun that way.”

She points out a couple more things on the ultrasound before turning the machine off and printing the pictures she took, making sure to print two copies so you and Jungkook can each have one. 

When you peek at him once the doctor leaves so you can get dressed, he’s staring at the photos while his thumb gently traces over the shiny paper right where your baby is. You feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes, but keep them under control with a sniffle and scrunch of your nose.

TWO

You have two main friend groups, one which is mutual with Jungkook, consisting of six other guys and three girls besides yourself, and another group of all girls, four of them in addition to you. Sometimes you mix the groups, and they all get along just fine, some better than others, wink wink, but usually you see them on separate occasions. 

Tonight is monthly wine night with your girls, which, of course, you won’t be partaking in, although you plan on faking it. 

You’re unsure about telling your friends just yet. It’s been nice having this sweet little secret just between you and Jungkook, thoroughly enjoying the whispers of excitement you share as you admire your miniature baby bump together. Of course, that enthusiasm is shared between you and your mothers who message you daily for updates. 

The bump forming over your womb isn’t noticeable in the slightest unless you’re wearing something abhorrently tight, and even then, you look bloated at best. So, you can easily get away with hiding your little bundle of joy for a few more weeks. 

It’s a fact the girls will be absolutely ecstatic for you and completely supportive, so it’s not fear holding you back. Maybe judgment? The circumstances of your pregnancy are far from ordinary and you don’t want a lecture from anyone regarding your questionable choices. Your friends adore Jungkook, since they’ve known him as long as they’ve known you, and they’re fully aware of how wonderful he is, but being a friend and being a father are two very different things and it wouldn’t be totally unreasonable for them to have doubts.

Grabbing some wine to pass from the corner store, you drive to Nayeon’s place just up the road. The five of you rotate hosts monthly and tonight is her night. You won’t have the pleasure of hosting again for another four months since your turn was last month. You’re bringing wine along to keep suspicions to a minimum, and you plan on filling your glass with some sparkling grape juice you also snagged. 

When you arrive, Jihyo and Mina are standing by their cars cackling at something on their phones. As you exit and lock your car with a click, you wave and approach the laughing banshees with a smile.

Their faces shine bright when they see you and enthusiastically return the wave.

“Bitch, it’s only been a month and I missed you so fucking much,” Mina cries as she pulls you in for a crippling hug. 

“Are you drunk already?” You question due to her out of character language and how she’s slumping against you.

“Nooo.”

“Don’t worry, I drove her here,” Jihyo, ever the mom friend, assures you. 

You enter Nayeon’s apartment as a trio, her door already unlocked for the occasion, as you update each other on surface level things like work and hobbies. 

Nayeon and Tzuyu are in the kitchen with a glass of wine already in hand while they gossip about something. You know they’re gossiping because their expressions are dramatically shuffling through different emotions like shock, confusion, and disgust. 

They wave excitedly when they notice your entrance and quickly finish their conversation before joining you. 

Jihyo places Mina delicately on the couch and instructs her to stay still so she can grab her a glass of water. You follow Jihyo into the kitchen, peering over your shoulder at your other friend who’s now lackadaisically swaying side to side.

“Ji, why is Mina drunk off her ass right now?” 

Jihyo sighs as she grabs a cup and glances towards the living room to visually check on the topic of your conversation. 

“Her and Mingyu broke up.”

“No!” You gasp, your hands covering your mouth in disbelief. “Did he dump her?”

“She won’t tell me! She just sits on my bed and cries for hours.”

Jihyo and Mina are roommates, but Mina has been hoping to move in with Mingyu for a while now and was merely waiting for him to ask.

“Oh no, my poor girl.”

“I’m hoping tonight will help and maybe she’ll finally open up about what happened,” Jihyo says. “You wanna try my wine?”

“Oh, no, I’ve got my own,” you tell her and show off the bottle of fake alcohol you peeled the label off of. 

She recognizes your answer with a nod before heading back to Mina. By the time you return with her water she’s relaying the information to Nayeon and Tzuyu through tears and slurred sentences. 

You hug Tzuyu from behind and she warmly wraps her arms around your own to reciprocate the affection. After repeating the embrace with Nayeon, you take a seat on her armchair and pour the grape juice into the wine glass she left out for you. 

The five of you update each other like always, since that’s the main purpose of these get-togethers. It’s your sacred time to dive into the messy and dirty details of your lives over the last month.

Mina is unanimously nominated to go first once she’s consumed a couple glasses of water to sober her up a bit. She explains how her and Mingyu, her boyfriend of nearly four years, broke up because he isn’t ready to settle down. Apparently it was mutual, but she’s still head over heels for him and is having a terrible time trying to move on.

The four of you hold her while she cries until eventually, she tires herself out, and you move on to Tzuyu.

The conversation circles through everyone until you’re finally the center of attention. There’s a piece of you that still wants to stow away your secret for a little while longer, but you’re also so excited for them to share in your joy that you can barely stand holding it in.

“Okay, so, technically this happened two wine nights ago, but I wasn’t ready to tell you guys just yet,” you begin. You suck in a breath through your teeth and take a sip of your drink even though there’s no liquid courage in the glass. “Jungkook and I hooked up.”

The gasps from your friends are so loud you think they sucked all the air from the room. 

“No fucking way.”

“I freaking knew it would happen one day!”

“Oh my God?”

“Please tell me he’s got a big dick, I just know he has a big dick.”

You laugh into your glass at the multitude of different reactions before continuing. Sighing in content remembrance, you lean forward and rest your elbows on your knees.

“He’s. Fucking. Huge.”

Somehow, their gasps this time are even louder. 

“No, no, you need to spill right fucking now. I want every dirty fucking detail, baby,” Nayeon says.

“There honestly isn’t that much to tell. We were watching a movie, he brought it up, it happened, bada-bing bada-boom,” you state.

“Are you two together now?” Jihyo asks.

“No,” you shake your head. “We just wanted to see what it was like, you know?”

“Bitch,” Tzuyu scoffs. “You just told us your ungodly handsome, sweet, filthy rich, jacked as fuck best friend has a huge dick and you’re gonna look at me and say it was a one time thing?”

“You guys know it’s not like that with us,” you respond. “I love him, like, with everything in me, and obviously, I know how attractive he is, but I don’t get butterflies around him or think about him first thing in the morning.” You sit back in the chair. “The love I have for him is so much greater than romantic love. I mean, never say never, but we’re both completely content with the way we are.” 

“Hear hear,” Jihyo says with a clink of her nails against her glass. 

Nibbling on your lip, you count the bubbles floating in your drink as you decide whether or not you’re ready for the actual reveal.

“There is… more, though,” you quietly admit. Everyone leans in and you shake your head back and forth to prepare for the biggest confession you’ll ever make to them. “I’m pregnant.”

The gasps this time are so volatile two of them start coughing and Jihyo walks her ass straight out of the room with a hand over her mouth. 

“Shut the fuck up right now,” Nayeon snaps. 

“He knocked you up?” Mina’s drunk ass shouts. 

“Mmhmm.”

“Are you… happy about that?” Tzuyu tentatively asks. 

The massive grin forming on your face reveals your answer before you can give it, and you start nodding overdramatically while you giggle. 

“Oh my God! You’re pregnant!” Tzuyu cheers now that she’s aware of your excitement.

“You’re gonna be a mom!” Nayeon claps.

“We’re gonna be aunts!” Mina adds. 

Jihyo returns to the room with fresh tears on her cheeks.

“Ji,” you coo at her. 

She hiccups out a weak chuckle as she pulls you into her for a bear hug. The other girls follow suit and surround you until the five of you are basically cuddling in the middle of Nayeon’s living room. Suddenly, someone starts jumping and the force shakes the floorboards as you all join in and chant “yay yay yay” on repeat. 

The whimsicality of girlhood never fails to paint a smile on your face.

The following weekend you have plans with your other friend group. You usually rotate through a few different activities you all enjoy and tonight is karaoke, which is one of your personal favorites. 

Jungkook gets ready at your place so you can eat dinner together beforehand since the food at the karaoke bar is stupidly overpriced. He never fails to remind you he can afford it and is more than willing to pay for your meal, but you don’t like using his money unless it’s absolutely necessary. You’re a big girl who can pay for herself and he understands your desire for independence.

You’re at the vanity finishing your makeup when he enters with another bowl of rice he grabbed after finishing your meal. He takes up purchase on your bed and eats absentmindedly while his eyes follow the movement of your wrist coating your lashes in mascara.

The feeling of his stare creates goosebumps on your skin and an involuntary smile appears in the mirror. No doubt your foundation hides the blush springing forth as well.

“You look pretty, Bams,” he compliments. 

“Thank you!”

The now empty bowl meets your nightstand with a clank as he moves to stand beside you. He leans down until you’re side by side in the mirror and gives you his cheesiest smile. You snort at his antics and continue to giggle while dropping your mascara into the pile of other makeup tools. 

“Cute,” you tell him. 

He smiles successfully and extends his hands towards you. You graciously accept his offer and stand to your full height. Just as you’re heading for your closet to grab shoes, Jungkook ensnares your wrist and eyes you hopefully. Raising an eyebrow at his actions, you wait for him to speak his mind.

“Can I see it?” 

The eye roll is automatic at this point.

“Koo, my baby bump is not any bigger than it was a few days ago. It’s barely a bump as is! I could eat pasta and grow bigger than I am now,” you tell him.

“It doesn’t matter, I just like knowing they’re in there,” he says with a huge smile. “My little kidney bean.”

“They’re a plum now, remember?” 

Jungkook just stares you down expectantly rather than responding. Begrudgingly, but still with a smile on your face, you push your jacket away so he can see the barely noticeable hump over your abdomen. He giggles, his feet taking turns leaving the floor, and places both hands on you, caressing your womb ever so gently. 

“My little plum,” he sighs happily. 

You're so utterly endeared by him and his nature that it makes you sick. 

Once Jungkook is done holding the little plum, you leave to meet your friends at the karaoke bar. 

Throughout the drive you discuss whether or not to announce the pregnancy to your friends. Jungkook knows you told the girls, and was unnecessarily smug about their interest in his size, but your mutual friends are another animal entirely. 

Everyone met at one point or another during college and by graduation you’d become one massive, conjoined group of lovable idiots. All eleven of you are extremely close, even if the bonds you share are unique to each individual pair. You know things about one another no one else does and they’re always the first people you tell about good news.

Jungkook is more anxious than you about telling them, especially since he’s yet to let the cat out of the bag to anyone besides your parents. He’s the youngest among the boys and his biggest fear is disappointing them. Not that they would be, because even though they're a group of seven men, they’re the kindest people in the world, but Jungkook’s always been sensitive about their opinion of him because he idolizes them so much.

By the time you reach the bar you’ve mutually agreed to hold off for now and proceed to exit the car together. Jungkook instinctively places his hand on your lower back as you walk in and a hostess tells you which room your friends occupy.

Upon opening the door to the private karaoke suite, you’re met by the booming sound of cheers from all nine people packed inside. Everyone rises from their seats to hug you one by one before letting you settle into the couch across from the karaoke machine and mini stage. 

“What are you drinking tonight?” Yunjin asks you as she takes the seat to your right.

Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi are already flipping through the songbook next to the stage for the perfect opening song. 

“Can’t, I’m Koo’s designated driver for tonight,” you tell her.

“We’re gonna be here for hours like always, you should have one, at least,” she says.

“Maybe,” you say with an appreciative smile. 

Lying to the people you love most isn’t exactly easy, especially when you already suck at it, but Yunjin seems to take you at your word and returns her focus to the opposite side of the room.

The opening beats of an R&B song fill the air and you turn your attention to the three jackals on stage as they belt their hearts out together. You admire them with a massive grin and are thoroughly impressed by how they manage to make complete fools of themselves while still hitting all the notes. 

The other girls join you sometime during the bridge, Chaewon taking the empty seat by you while Eunchae goes next to Yunjin. Eunchae tells everyone she got a promotion at work, so you clink your glasses together to cheer for her, yours being filled with cola instead of alcohol.

“Here, try my drink, it’s so good!” Chaewon says as she passes the glass to you. You shake your head and tell her the same lie you told Yunjin. Unfortunately, Chaewon is less forgiving than your other friend. “It’s just a sip, girliepop!”

You shoot her a warning glance, and luckily, the two other women are distracted by Namjoon and Jin’s soulful duet on stage. Due to your decade long friendship, you and Chaewon share the unique ability to speak without any words, and your silent conversation goes something like this.

You, glaring at her with your head tilted. Don’t.

Her, sitting back a little with her eyebrows raised. Bitch?

You, nodding minutely a couple times. Yup.

Her, eyes wide with a hand on her chest. You’re pregnant?

You, nodding while staring her down. Can you fucking believe it?

Her, brow creasing and slowly shaking her head. Who the fuck is the dad?

You, holding up a hand to block the view from the others while pointing at Jungkook who’s sitting across the room. Jungkook.

Her, hand over her mouth, eyes bulging out of her head. You’re fucking joking! 

So, that’s how Chaewon finds out, and your final signal to her is your pointer finger pressing against your lips so she knows this is still a massive secret.

Jungkook and Taehyung take the stage next, and they’re always an entertaining pair, so you both pay close attention. It’s debatable whether that was a good decision, because the rest of you end up with aching cramps from the intense fits of laughter. You're all desperately clutching your stomachs as the two of them jump around and sing in each other’s faces to a song that does not call for that type of choreography. You’re 99% sure it’s a breakup song from a K-Drama. 

You’re still wiping the tears from your eyes when Eunchae speaks up breathlessly.

“God, I don’t know why, but this reminds me of when the boys performed in the university talent show,” she states.

“Oh shit, I totally forgot about that,” Yunjin responds.

“Wait, what are you guys talking about?” Jimin says as he sits next to Yunjin.

“Don’t you remember? You guys wore those hockey jerseys and covered that 90s song,” you tell him. “It was so good!”

Jin nods from the other side of the couch and starts laughing as he remembers the performance.

“That was so long ago! I remember it being super fun, though,” he says.

“Please don’t bring that up, that was the most embarrassing day of my life,” Yoongi groans.

“Oh please, Min, you secretly loved it,” Chaewon teases him.

You gasp when you realize it’s definitely still stored somewhere in your phone. Pulling the device out of your pocket, you scoot over so Jungkook can sit next to you while you scroll through your camera roll from almost ten years ago. Taehyung joins you and leans over Jungkook’s shoulder to see as well. 

“Found it!” You squeal.

Unable to resist reliving the memory, everyone gathers behind you to watch. Your previous fits of laughter make a gnarly comeback as you marvel at the younger versions of them dancing and singing their little hearts out. They look like babies in comparison and it makes you swoon.

“That was literally another lifetime,” Namjoon says once the video is done playing.

“Man, we were so fucking cool,” Hoseok states proudly.

“Jungkook, you should wear your hair like that again,” Yunjin says. “You looked fucking hot.”

“Fuck yeah he did, rumor has it Kook lost his virginity that night,” Taehyung jokes as he squeezes Jungkook’s bicep.

“Yo! Shut the hell up, I lost my virginity in high school,” Jungkook retorts. He takes a swig of his drink and chuckles against the glass. “It was the first time I fucked raw, though.”

“Clearly not the last,” you say under your breath.

Jungkook turns to you with his eyes bugging out and you have to stifle your laugh with your hand. Resting your forehead on his shoulder, you gain control of your laughter and whisper a halfhearted apology to him. 

“Ok, girlies, let’s fuck this shit up,” Chaewon annonces. 

Yunjin and Eunchae both chug the last of their drinks before grabbing each of your hands so you can take the stage together. You diligently flip through the songbook to find the perfect one while the guys converse about a recent video game release. Gasping when you spot a familiar song title, you point to the page and eye the girls with a mischievous smirk.

“Wait, don’t we know the dance for this?” Yunjin asks.

You and Eunchae nod together. 

“Oh, we are gonna leave these men fucking gagged,” Chaewon states before plugging the selection into the karaoke machine. 

Chaewon hits the nail on the head, because as soon as the song begins and you start shaking your asses like a bonafide girl group, the men go insane. The seven of them act like they’re your biggest stans who paid for a ticket just to see this. 

Hoseok and Jimin stand to the right of the stage throwing invisible money over you all, while Taehyung and Jungkook are sitting on the end couch spanking the air back and forth. Yoongi is covering his eyes with his hand while he shakes his head, but he’s still peeking at your performance between his fingers. Namjoon is bent over with his elbows on his knees and his hands under his chin like he’s trying to analyze the way your asses bounce. Jin stands with a glass in each hand as he dances along and screams your names in a repeating chant at the top of his lungs. 

When you finish the show stopping performance, all of them are almost as breathless as you from cheering so much. 

“Fuck, why am I hard right now?”

“That was spectacular.”

“You guys were so good!”

“I think I just came.”

“Amazing, bravo.”

“Encore!”

“Remind me why we’re all just friends?”

All four of you are panting as you hop off the stage and attempt to slow your racing heartbeats. Jimin notices you don’t have a drink and goes to hand his glass of vodka cranberry to you.

“Here, you look like you could use this.”

Just as you’re about to wave him off and reject his offer, Chaewon interrupts. 

“Y/N can’t have alcohol,” she states. 

Eyes blowing wide, you glare and wordlessly scold her with your facial expressions, throwing your hands up incredulously for good measure. Poor Jungkook looks like a deer in headlights since you didn’t get the chance to tell him she knows.

“Why not?” Yoongi asks from across the table.

“Are you okay? Nothing’s wrong, right?” Yunjin adds.

“No, no,” you answer with a nonchalant wave of your hand. “Just this new medication I’m on.”

“Which one? Prenatal vitamins?” Eunchae jokes as she takes a drink. Your lip catches between your teeth as you look at her with wide, worrisome eyes. Her expression shifts into shock when she notices your face over the rim of her glass. “Holy fuck, I was joking. Y/N, are you pregnant?”

“Um… yes?” 

The eight people in the room who weren’t previously aware inhale simultaneously to berate you with questions, but are all stopped short by Taehyung speaking first.

“Who the fuck put a baby in you?” 

Gnawing on your lip as your mind scrambles for an answer, your eyes flit to Jungkook for support, but his face is paler than a ghost. You reluctantly accept your fate and sigh in defeat. 

“J… Ju… Jungkook did.”

All hell breaks loose. 

You’re fighting off Eunchae, Yunjin, Namjoon, and Hoseok with your hands up in surrender as you vigorously shake your head back and forth. Jungkook is slowly sinking into his seat with his arms out in defense as Jimin, Taehyung, Jin, and Yoongi descend on him like a pack of ravenous wolves. Everyone’s screaming voices are louder than any of the singing tonight and if someone took a picture of the room it could only be classified as a goddamn renaissance painting.

Once the initial shock wears off and Jungkook finally comes to his senses, he shakes his head to collect his thoughts and stands up.

“Everyone, shut the fuck up! My bun is in that oven and I don’t need you assholes stunting their growth with your screaming,” he shouts. 

“Oh, please don’t refer to me as an oven, Koo,” you grimace.

“I didn’t mean it that way, Bams.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Hey!” Eunchae interrupts you. “Lovebirds, you wanna fucking tell us how you got knocked up?” 

Jungkook clears his throat. 

“Well, Eunnie, you see, when a mommy and daddy love each other very mu — AH!”

Jungkook’s mock explanation is cut short by him ducking to avoid the couch pillow Eunchae chucks at his head. 

“Be fucking for real, Jeon. Why is your demon spawn in my best friend?” 

“Hey, don’t talk about our little plum like that,” Jungkook frowns. 

“Little plum?” Jimin and Taehyung speak in unison. 

Jungkook sighs dreamily before responding. 

“That’s how big they are right now.”

“It just happened!” You state. “We just fucked for shits and gigs and now we’re here.”

“You let Jungkook come in you for shits and gigs?” Hoseok asks with his signature face of judgement.

The implications of his tone make you pout and cross your arms over your chest.

“Yes, and it was very enjoyable, thank you very much.”

“Oh, ew.”

“For real?”

“Ah, fuck no.”

Chaewon fake gags with a finger in her mouth. 

“Wait, wait,” Namjoon steps into the center of the room. “How is this gonna work? Are you two gonna co-parent? Switch off houses every other week?”

“I… don’t know,” you answer honestly before looking at Jungkook. He shrugs with his arms out, clearly just as clueless about those details as you. “We haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“Are you gonna find out the gender?” Chaewon asks excitedly, but you quickly shake your head and she frowns. “How am I supposed to get my future niece or nephew the perfect gift if I don’t know their gender?”

“Gender neutral?” You suggest. 

You hear Jin exhale overdramatically and when you look towards him he’s downing a shot and slamming the glass down afterwards. 

“What the fuck is going on?” He shakes his head and his lips make a horse-like noise. “I mean, we’re talking about Jungkook and Y/N having a baby… a motherfucking child.”

“Yeah, and they’re gonna be the best parents ever,” Yoongi states wholeheartedly. 

Yoongi finds your eyes across the room, his adorable gummy smile on full display, and reaffirms his words with a nod. You return the smile gratefully, thanking him with a slow blink as you hold his eye contact. 

“Are you alright? I mean, like, you’re good?” Yunjin asks you. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, especially now that you guys know.”

“What about you, Kook?” Taehyung asks from where he sits beside him. 

Jungkook looks over his shoulder at his friend, the biggest, bunniest grin imaginable on his face.

“I’m fucking ecstatic,” he answers. 

Jimin takes two large strides and hugs Jungkook’s head to his chest, ruffling his hair affectionately. Hoseok joins in next, squishing Jungkook’s cheeks between his hands and giving him adorable fish lips.

“Our Jungkookie is gonna be a dad!” Hoseok coos in his best baby voice. 

Your attention is pulled away by Yunjin’s hand on your lower back. She smiles when you turn around and pulls you into a powerful embrace which you reciprocate. Eunchae and Chaewon join the hug and you rest your head on Chaewon’s shoulder. You know how hard she is on herself whenever she screws up, and this is your way of letting her know it’s alright.

When you part, you feel a tug on your hand, and before you know it Jungkook is bringing you into his lap. You giggle as he tucks you into his chest and nuzzles his face in your neck. 

There’s a brief moment where it feels as though it’s just you and him, and it’s more needed than you even realized. Jungkook’s recognizably warm presence calming you down after the hectic atmosphere of the room took you for a loop.

Everyone moseys around to take a seat as the adrenaline from the news simmers. The eleven of you actually do some catching up rather than just singing and drinking, and eventually smaller faction conversations happen all around the table.  

You stay on Jungkook’s lap the rest of the night with his hand resting on the outside of your thigh to keep you against him.

It’s abnormal behavior for you two, usually keeping a rather firm boundary of friendship, the time you conceived a child together aside, but you don’t question it. Maybe it’s the child in your womb wanting to be close to their father or perhaps the uptick in hormones skewing your regular emotional landscape. Either way, Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind your weight on him and neither do you. 

By the time the clock strikes two in the morning, and you’ve all gone a couple more rounds on the karaoke machine, your head is resting on Jungkook’s shoulder as you flicker in and out of consciousness. He soothingly rubs your spine with his hand, making sure to add more pressure to your lower back where it’s been hurting ever since becoming pregnant. Curling into him more in response, you push your face into his neck and hum contently at the familiar scent and warmth. 

“You tired, Bams?” He whispers to you, moving some hair away from your face. You answer with a single nod, your eyes already closing again from the heaviness of sleep. “Okay, let’s go.”

Jungkook helps you stand, and you hug all your friends goodbye one by one. Everyone congratulates you both again while also threatening to show up to your homes univinted unless you update them on your progress between hangouts.

Jimin changes your group chat name that very night to: Baby Jeon Official Updates Channel 💦🤭👶🏻💕

You and Jungkook leave hand-in-hand, mostly because he has to keep you upright from how tired you are. He drives back to his place since it’s closer and he doesn’t like the idea of leaving you alone when you’re this sleepy. God forbid you accidentally fall asleep on Usagi and crush her all night long. The car ride is brief, but it’s smooth enough that you fall asleep in the passenger seat almost instantly. 

Jungkook carries you inside instead of waking you up, knowing you need more rest nowadays than usual. Although, if he’s being honest, pregnant with his child or not, he’d still carry you and tuck you into bed.

When you wake up in Jungkook’s spare bedroom/home office the next morning, you’re thoroughly confused, but as your sleepiness begins to wane you remember the end of the night and the events which led you here. The smell of pancakes encourages you to walk down the stairs to Jungkook’s kitchen. You’re still wrapped in his comforter when you enter and Jungkook laughs as you approach him like the Queen of bedtime. 

“Morning, Bambi,” he greets you as he flips the final pancake onto the plate and turns off the griddle. 

“Good morning,” you say with a tired smile. 

Just then, the sound of trampling paws comes barreling towards you. Smiling broadly as you turn towards the sound, you bend down to greet the adorable Doberman who’s wagging his tail in excitement at seeing you.

“Bammie!” You cheer as you pet behind his ears. “Oh, I’ve missed you, my good boy.” 

He runs around your legs a couple times before scurrying across the hardwood to bring you a bone to throw. You happily oblige him and watch in amusement as he runs away to fetch it before plopping on the couch to gnaw on the toy.

“Come eat, Bams,” Jungkook tells you as he sets two plates on his dining table. 

Following his orders, you leave the comforter over the back of the couch and sit across from him to eat the eggs, pancakes, and bacon he made for you both. You eat in comfortable silence for a while until you’re both nearly done.

“Koo, I’m sorry about last night. Chaewon guessed it and then her big mouth spilled the beans. I know it wasn’t the way we wanted it to happen, but at least it’s over with, right?” 

“It’s alright,” Jungkook responds before gulping down his orange juice. “I’m glad we finally did it and now everyone knows. Plus, it got me thinking about some stuff I hadn’t really thought about yet.”

“Like what?”

“Well, about what Namjoon hyung said,” he explains. “I mean, he makes a really good point. I want our kid to have a normal family life even if we’re just best friends and not romantic partners.”

“What do you think we should do?”

“I think you should move in with me.”

You choke on your orange juice. 

Truthfully, there isn’t anything shocking about his statement, you just weren’t expecting it at that moment. Jungkook has a three bedroom, two and a half bath house which he owns, while you rent a one bedroom apartment. He’s been begging you ever since he bought the property to move into his spare bedroom. The two of you spend almost all your time together anyway and he doesn’t see the point in you wasting money on rent when his house is completely paid off. 

The reason you haven’t accepted his offer before is because you never want to take advantage of his wealth or be a burden on him. Being best friends is one thing, being roommates is another. 

Now, though, you have a biological right to be a burden on him because he stuck a baby in you. 

“Are you sure?” You ask him.

“Of course I am,” he replies in a heartbeat. “I thought about it all last night and it only makes sense. I have two extra bedrooms, one for you and one for the baby.” 

“But what about your home office and your gym?”

“I can move my gym equipment to the garage and my desk can easily fit in my bedroom.” You sigh and push your fork around your plate as you contemplate his proposal. “Bams, you’re gonna be the mother of my child, will you just let me take care of you for once?”

As soon as you look into his starry eyes, you know there’s no chance you’ll say no. Jungkook obviously wants to do this because he loves you and wants to make sure you and the baby have everything you need, so who are you to say no?

“Okay,” you agree. “When should I move in?”

THREE

The cardboard box in your hands is slowly slipping from your grasp as you ascend the stairs, but you’re determined to make it to the top before readjusting. You have to reach the landing before Jungkook catches you. If he sees you disobeying his instruction of sitting still, he’ll definitely blow a gasket. 

You don’t know what it is with men and thinking pregnant women can’t do anything themselves. It’s still only the first trimester, and sure, your bump has grown some more, but you aren’t completely useless. 

Honestly, if you weren’t so stubborn, you would’ve taken his offer of moving all the boxes into the house by himself, but your competitive nature has you lugging a box of cat toys up the stairs instead. 

“Bambi! What did I fucking say?”

Dropping the box by your feet only three steps from the top, you blow your hair away from your face and place your hands on your hips.

“Fuck you, Jungkook. I do what I want.”

“You wanna look me in the eyes when you say that?” 

“… No.”

“That’s what I thought.” The sound of his combat boots coming up the stairs is all you hear as he moves to steal the box from your feet. Once it’s secure in his arms, he looks at you like a teacher scolding their student and gestures to the couch with his head. “Go sit down.”

“I’m not incapable, you know?” You say with your arms crossed. 

“I know that, Bams,” Jungkook states. “It’s not about that. I lift more than this in a single workout at the gym. Why should you have to do it when I’m perfectly capable?”

He’s right. You know that, he knows that, so you leave him alone on the steps to sit down on the couch with a huff. 

Bam quickly joins you and lays his head in your lap as he watches his dad move back and forth through the house with curious eyes. Scratching behind his ear, you laugh at the way his tail repeatedly whacks the couch as it wags. 

Usagi is still in her carrier in your new bedroom since you want to make sure everything is moved in before introducing her and Bam. You and Jungkook both agree that if they get in a fight, it’s her little munchkin ass who will be the main aggressor, especially since Bam is scared of his own shadow. 

Once Jungkook’s done moving the last of the boxes, he flops aggressively into the armchair next to the couch. He pats his thigh and Bam instantly leaves your side to jump into his lap instead. Jungkook leans down to kiss his precious pup before letting his head fall back as he tries to catch his breath.

“Perfectly capable, huh?” 

“Shut up.”

“You’re getting old, Koo. Soon you’re gonna be a dad and you’ll have a beer gut —”

“Nuh uh, never gonna happen. I’ll have my abs until the day I die,” he corrects you.

“Please, no you will not. You think you’re gonna be hitting the gym at 80?” You ask as you lean forward in your seat.

“Yes. My love comes from my abs, I can’t lose them,” he states.

The couch cushion indents where your head falls against it as you laugh heartily. 

“What? Your love comes from your abs? What the hell does that even mean?” 

“Everyone I meet loves my abs, so now they’re just like, full of love, and that’s where it comes from,” he explains unironically.

“Everyone? I don’t think that’s true,” you say with a smirk.

“No?” Jungkook gently guides Bam away and struts over to you. “You’re gonna look at me and tell me you don’t love my abs? That if I took my shirt off right now you wouldn’t go all googly-eyed?”

“Fuck, no,” you scoff. 

Jungkook clicks his tongue and then lifts his shirt to engulf you under the fabric. You screech and shove at his waist, kicking your legs haphazardly like you’re being suffocated. 

“Let me out of here!” You scream, but it’s severely muffled by the fabric. 

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I can’t hear you,” Jungkook teases. “Ow!”

Jungkook immediately frees you and backs away after he feels your teeth sinking into his side. He rubs over the bite mark with a big pout on his face, as if he didn’t start this little charade. 

You mock his expression for a moment before standing to go up the stairs and check on your furry child. Jungkook follows begrudgingly, letting his feet drag along the floor like a petulant child. When you enter your new bedroom, conveniently right beside Jungkook’s, Usagi starts meowing incessantly and scratching at her carrier. You soothe her with some baby speak and check that the door is closed before letting her out. Her little legs immediately bring her to the floor so she can explore the unfamiliar room. 

She meows every couple of seconds whenever she encounters something new and you watch as she headbutts everything in sight as a way of marking the furniture with her scent. Ironically, this is all the same furniture from your old bedroom just in a different space and formation.

Hands wrap around your waist from behind and you sigh at the feeling of Jungkook’s firm chest meeting your back. Obviously, he’s forgiven you for your little retaliatory love bite. 

“I’m really glad you’re here, Bams,” he tells you from where his head rests on your shoulder. 

Your hand reaches behind you to sneak into his hair and scratch at his scalp affectionately. He hums and rests his cheek against your shoulder. You’d argue he picked up the mannerisms from his dog, but he’s always been touchy like this.  

“I’m happy to be here,” you reply. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Those words no longer apply the following day when you’re hunched over Jungkook’s toilet and spilling your guts into the bowl. 

It’s a great unknown why morning sickness is called that when it happens at all hours of the freaking day. You naively believed you snuck past its clutches since you’re already on the brink of your second trimester, but apparently the wonderful symptom was just waiting until you had Jungkook’s big fancy bathroom to throw up in. 

Groaning in agony, you plop back onto the tile and rest your head on the cabinet. Your throat is burning from all the regurgitation, there are popped blood vessels all over your cheeks and forehead, making you look like you have freckles, and salty tears from the effort of repeatedly emptying your stomach are drying on your skin. 

You caress your baby bump with a glare, making a mental note to scold them at least once when they’re older for putting you through this. 

The sound of the front door opening makes your ears twitch. Bam’s heavy footsteps can be heard barreling towards the door and then Jungkook’s voice joins in as he greets his beloved pet. 

“Bambi?”

“In here,” you say through your sore vocal chords. Jungkook’s face appears in the doorway and you whimper as tears fill your eyes again. “I fucking hate you for doing this to me.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen at your current state and he instantly sinks to his knees to pull you into his arms. He holds your head against his chest as you cry from the pain and fatigue of running back and forth to the bathroom all day. Jungkook’s been out running errands all day so you’ve been all alone until now.

“I’m sorry, Bams,” he whispers into your hair. “Wish it was me instead.”

There’s no opportunity for you to reply because the familiar feeling of bile climbing up your throat forces you out of his embrace and back over the toilet. Jungkook grabs your hair, making sure to collect the shorter pieces that cradle your face, and holds it in a makeshift ponytail as he rubs your back. 

Once you’re done, and after the sound of the toilet flushing disperses, you hear soft cries coming from behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you see Jungkook wiping his eyes with his shirtsleeve. 

“Koo,” you call out to him. 

He hiccups and attempts a brave face, smiling at you even as tears slip from his waterline.

“Sorry, you know I hate seeing you in pain,” he explains. 

You frown and turn around to grab his cheeks, brushing the remaining tears away from them. It’s true you’re already well aware of his empathetic nature and have been for as long as you’ve known him. 

“I know,” you say with a smile as you push his hair away from his face. “Remember that time I got bullied in middle school and was crying on the playground, and then you started crying because I was?” Jungkook laughs, his eyes closing as he remembers the moment. “I’ll never forget what you said.” You clear your throat so you can give an accurate representation of his voice. “I never suffer myself, Bambi, I only suffer when I see you suffering.” 

Jungkook smiles big and laughs again at your adorable imitation of his deep timbre. 

“You know, if we have a boy, I’m gonna have to tussle with him over this,” he says. “No one hurts my Bams, not even my own kid.”

Your responding chuckle is strained due to how sore your body is. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you bring Jungkook closer for a tight hug, your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt. His palm slowly moves up and down your spine in a steady cadence to soothe you until the next wave of nausea comes. 

The remainder of the day is spent in the bathroom together, which is luckily spacious enough for not only you two, but Usagi and Bam who both come to join you at one point.

The nausea comes in waves, sometimes occurring multiple times back to back or alternatively with a large lapse of time between them. It holds you hostage in the bathroom for a few days, and you have to take PTO when the work week begins, but eventually the symptoms simmer to about once every couple days after your doctor prescribes medication. 

Another lovely symptom you’re experiencing as of late is intense cravings for extremely specific food groups, which is why you’re currently in a screaming match with Jungkook over pickles. 

“I’m not buying you pickles, Bambi,” Jungkook sternly states.

“Jungkook, you’re not the one growing a baby inside of you. If I say I want pickles, I should be getting pickles!” You shout, your feet stomping on the ground reactively. 

“You fucking hate pickles!” Jungkook matches your tone.

“Yes, but pregnancy cravings don’t care about what I like or don’t like, and they’re saying they want pickles!”

“You’re not going to eat them, Bams, I know you!”

“Yes, I will!”

“You really want me to leave the house at three in the morning for a vegetable that you despise?” Jungkook scoffs in outrage. “You won’t even eat a sandwich if a pickle was on the plate because you claim you can still taste it!” 

“That doesn’t matter, Koo!”

Jungkook groans and runs his hands down his face before pushing his hair back. 

“I swear to God, Bambi, if I get back here, and you don’t eat that entire fucking jar, I will kick you out of this goddamn house!” 

“No, you won’t, you love me too much,” you brag and stick your tongue out at him.

“Yeah, unfortunately, I do,” Jungkook admits angrily. He grumbles to himself the entire time he’s putting on his slides and slipping on his jacket to drive to the nearest 24 hour convenience store. His hand is on the doorknob when he turns back to say one final comment. “You know what the worst part about this is? Most guys in my position are at least getting some pussy for putting up with this shit, but not me! No reward! I’m doing this out of pure, unconditional love for you!” 

You gawk at his remark, not recognizing the words coming out of his mouth. Jungkook has never in his life asked for anything in return, let alone imply you owe him a sexual favor.

The door slams shut before you can respond, and a cry breaks from your chest as your head falls forward. Bam hears the noise and comes to comfort you, nudging his head up against your leg like the good boy he is, but barely a minute later, his head jerks when he’s distracted by the sound of the door opening. You don’t even get the chance to look up completely before you’re forced into someone’s arms who smells a lot like Jungkook.

“Bams, I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” Jungkook tells you. 

His apology only makes you cry more, shoving your face into his shirt and soaking it with tears. 

“That was so fucked up, Koo,” you sniffle. 

“I know, I’m so sorry,” he replies. “I didn’t mean it, okay? You don’t owe me anything, Bams, especially not that.” He pulls away from you and lifts your face by your chin. “Please don’t think that I, even for a second, ever expect you to repay me for taking care of you. I do it because I love you and that’s the only reward I need.” 

Wiping your tears with your shirtsleeve, you slap his chest a couple times for good measure. He chuckles because of how lightly you smack him.

“You’re forgiven,” you grumble. “Now, can you please go get me these fuckass pickles?”

Jungkook smiles and nods his head, his hand on your chin moving to caress your hair for a moment. 

“I’ll buy you pickles everyday for the rest of your life if that’s what you want, Bambi,” he states. 

“It isn’t. I fucking hate pickles,” you say with a smile. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to your hair before waving goodbye and heading to the store. When he returns twenty minutes later, he’s carrying a couple bags of miscellaneous groceries as well as a jar of pickles. 

You wait patiently for him to place the bags in the kitchen before he hands the open jar to you. The smell alone eases the craving that’s been eating away at your stomach for hours now. Grabbing one of the skewers, you pull it out of the juice and take a small bite off the end. 

Instantly, your brain screams at you in disgust, and you open your mouth again to spit the piece into your hand. Realizing you now have to face Jungkook so he can say I told you so, your eyes screw shut and you turn towards him. Except, when you open your eyes, he isn’t beside you anymore, he’s walking back from the kitchen with your favorite flavor of chips in hand.

“Got these just in case,” he tells you as he swaps out the jar in your hand for the bag. 

You grimace, guilt pooling in your stomach when you realize his trip out into the night was for nought. 

“Koo…”

“It’s alright, Bambi. The fact that I was right makes this all worth it,” he says with a sly grin. 

The chips taste like salty pieces of heaven and you eat the entire bag that night. You keep the jar of pickles for occasional sniffing because, for whatever reason, your brain loves the smell even though it hates the taste. This pregnancy is already messing with your brain chemistry more than you care to admit and it’s only the beginning. 

As the weeks go on, your pregnancy continues to mess with you in the form of a different, but equally as strong, craving. 

It initially hits you while you’re putting together Usagi’s new cat tower in the living room. Thankfully, she and Bam get along just fine. In fact, she’s currently lying on him while they nap together on the other side of the room. 

The instructions for this contraption are annoyingly hard to understand and you’re holding the instructional pamphlet up in the air as you attempt to make out what size screw you need in the stupidly small font it’s written in. 

The sound of the door opening catches your attention. As you lower the paper to see the familiar figure entering the room, your mouth suddenly dries up. 

Jungkook’s coming back from his home gym which is now in the garage and the tips of his hair are drenched in sweat. His chest is rising and falling in deep pants from the intensity of his workout and the black shirt he’s wearing sticks to his chest, perfectly outlining his pecs. Then, much to your agony, he takes the bottom of his shirt and wipes it across his forehead, giving you a perfect view of his abs. 

The feeling that shoots straight into your core is absolutely foreign. Sure, you know Jungkook is hot, that’s a fact of the universe no one is trying to deny. But you’ve seen him shirtless before, hell, you’ve seen him entirely naked. The bump protruding from your womb tells you that much, and yet you’ve never felt turned on by him doing something so mundane.

It makes you question why your body, and more particularly your pussy, is suddenly insatiable and the sight of him is making drool drip from your mouth where it’s fallen open in awe of his physique. 

Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice your change in demeanor as he waves hello before heading upstairs to shower. Once he’s gone, your body releases its tension and you sigh in relief. Although, the feeling doesn’t entirely go away, and you end up spending the rest of the evening uncomfortably horny. 

That very night you take matters into your own hands, literally. You haven’t masturbated since getting pregnant, not for any particular reason other than just not feeling the urge, but now the urge has you in a chokehold and you need to fix it. 

Closing your eyes and slinking comfortably into your sheets, you pull your shorts and panties off in one go before trailing your hand down to your core. You’re still wet from earlier, no doubt because you saw Jungkook in all his post workout glory. The image of him wiping the sweat from his brow with his shirt is still on your mind when your fingers dip between your folds. 

A quiet moan escapes as you move your leaking essence around with your fingertips. It’s been more than three months since you’ve felt any sort of sexual pleasure, the night you spent with Jungkook being the last time. 

Your eyes roll as you play with yourself by switching between pushing your fingers into your cunt and circling your clit. The squelching sound helps to turn you on, but the entire time all you can think is that it isn’t enough. It barely scratches the surface of your sexual need and is a sorry excuse for pleasure after what you Jungkook made you feel. 

Huffing in frustration, you shut your eyes again and try to forget about the world around you, but it’s only when you think back to earlier today that your pleasure spikes and you moan again. 

Realizing what the trick is, you begrudgingly let your imagination, or more so your memory, run rampant. You think back to that night and the way Jungkook’s lips felt against yours, and the way his cock penetrated you so deep you were seeing stars. The memory of his deep voice in your ear makes you moan exuberantly. Your hand falls into a quick rhythm as all the memories come flooding back. Everything about that night sends you closer to the edge of ecstasy. His weight above you, the heat of his skin, his taste, his moans and grunts, the way he fills you up. All of it forces you to bite down on your fist and cry when your orgasm overwhelms you.

The aftershocks of your pleasure have you panting as you come down from the high. You feel immense relief now that your desire is satiated after a long day of feeling your thighs twitch. Pulling your hand away, you stand to wash your hands so you can finally get some rest. 

Hopefully, this symptom will eventually disappear like the others and you won’t be riddled with sexual cravings through the entirety of your pregnancy. 

The next morning you’re pouring yourself a cup of tea to drink before heading to work. Jungkook comes skipping down the stairs in his business casual attire, his sleeves partially rolled up to reveal his tattoos. You wave to him and push the cup of coffee you poured for him across the counter.

“Thanks, Bams,” he says with a squeeze to your arm. 

This is the normal, everyday occurrence for you now, and it’s nice having a routine that works for you both. You didn’t realize how easy living together would be and you’re glad it’s finally happening. Besides the times your pregnancy has turned into a sick, desperate, crazy person, it’s been business as usual for you two even with the adjustment of being roommates. 

“You gonna be home for dinner?” You ask him as he takes a sip of the drink. His brow creases and he looks adorably angry, letting you know you made it just right. 

“Yeah, the deadline for the newest patch was last week so I shouldn’t be staying late,” he answers. 

“I’m making your favorite, your mom sent me the recipe last week,” you tell him.

“No shit,” he says, eyebrows disappearing behind his bangs. You nod in confirmation and he enthusiastically claps his hands. There’s a brief lull in the conversation, but then Jungkook seemingly remembers something and grabs your attention. “Actually, there's something I was gonna talk to you about.”

“What’s up?” Leaning over the counter, you take a sip and wait for him to speak.

“Well, I may or may not have heard you last night and —”

The sound of you choking and spitting out your tea interrupts him. 

“Excuse me?”

“I heard you, ya know, having a little fun all by your lonesome last night.” You stare at him incredulously across the island. “Surprise, surprise, the wall between our rooms isn’t that thick.” 

“Koo, why are you bringing this up?” You ask. “I mean, thanks for letting me know, I guess?”

“No, no,” he chuckles. “I’m not saying it to embarrass you or anything, Bambi.” He mirrors your stance so your faces are only a few inches apart. “I was just going to offer my services in case you need something more than your own hand.”

“Huh?”

“It’s just, I mean, I’m only a room away, and I know your hormones are probably going awol and making you needy and shit. So, if you ever want to, the option is there.”

“Koo, that’s very sweet of you, but I’m not gonna use you like that.”

“Oh, yeah, because having sex with you is such a chore. Worst night of my fucking life!” You laugh and slap his arm playfully. He stands to his full height with a wink. “Just think about it, alright?”

You do think about it. Unfortunately, it’s all you can think about. It already freaked you out enough when you couldn’t get yourself off without thinking of him, and now your body is mentally somersaulting in celebration because of his offer. 

It’s definitely not romantic feelings swirling inside you, because just as you told your friends, you don’t feel butterflies with Jungkook, but it’d be both impractical and impossible to deny you have sexual feelings for him. Whether it’s from pregnancy hormones or something else entirely, you clearly want him something awful. Greed they talked about in the bible type shit. 

The only thing you don’t want is for him to fuck you because he’s trying to help you out. If you’re going to hook up again, you want him to want you in the same way. 

Despite the mental turmoil it initially puts you through, time goes on without either of you bringing up his little offer. Your body still messes with you by making you horny at all hours of the day, but you usually just satisfy yourself before bed and all is good. 

Tonight is different. No matter how hard you try you can’t bring yourself to come. Your fingers are pruny from how long you’ve been playing with yourself, but nothing is working. It’s nearly two in the morning, and although it’s a weekend, you still want some sleep. 

Grunting and kicking your blankets away, you cross your arms over your chest and pout in the darkness of your room. The quiet atmosphere of the house is helpful for lulling you to sleep, but your thighs are twitching with need and you know you’ll be restless if you don’t fix it before going to bed. You sigh and sit on the edge of your bed, chewing your lip as you debate if you’re really about to do what you’re thinking of doing. Before you can overthink it any further, you stand up and throw your door open. 

Usagi makes a noise of confusion from her bed in the corner of your room, so you whisper to her you’ll be right back and shut the door. 

It takes you a minimum of five minutes to gather the courage to knock on Jungkook’s door. He was working late tonight on a new project and went to bed early to catch up on his sleep. Guilt pools in your stomach at the thought of waking him up for such a selfish reason, but you know he’ll scold you if he finds out you needed him without telling him as such.

The sound of your hand against the wood feels extra loud in the stark silence of the house, and it only takes a couple seconds for Jungkook to softly call for you from inside the room. 

You twist the door knob and peek your head inside. Jungkook only has one eye open, and he’s fluffing his messy hair in confusion when you enter his room. 

“Bambi? Is everything okay?” He asks sleepily. 

“Mmhmm,” you say as you chew on your lip. “I, um…”

The embarrassment stirring within you is almost enough to bring your morning sickness back with a vengeance. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I… need you,” you whisper. 

Jungkook sits up, his other eye finally opening, although they’re still half-lidded with sleep. 

“Need me how, Bams? Are you alright?”

“Like… sexually,” you finally answer.

His eyes open a little wider at your response, but soon enough his expression softens and he smiles warmly. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, his hand gesturing for you to join him. 

You tentatively place one foot in front of the other until you reach the edge of his mattress and climb in. He holds his hand out for you and once you’re close enough he grabs your waist to help you straddle his thighs. 

As soon as you feel him beneath you and his chest against your own, the tension in your body disintegrates and the relief sends your forehead to his shoulder. Jungkook reacts instinctively, one hand scratching your scalp while the other rubs your back, and you whimper from comforting sensations.

“Tell me what you need, babygirl.”

“I don’t know. Nothing’s working and I… I just need relief,” you explain. 

“Okay, do you want my hands or my mouth?” 

You shake your head.

“You, Koo. Want you.”

Jungkook hums and combs his fingers through your hair, the hand on your back rising to cradle your face instead.

“You’ve got me, Bambi. I’ll give you anything you want.” You feel him mouthing at your jaw and breathe a sigh of relief. “Every part of me,” he whispers ardently.

After a prolonged moment of gentle neck kisses, Jungkook takes your hips in his hands to lift you and pull your bottoms down before moving his own pants out of the way. You hear the sound of him pumping his cock to get himself hard, but you’re too busy returning his favor by caressing his neck with your lips to see the motion yourself. The firm touch of his hand on your lower back guides you into the right position atop his lap. You sink down slowly, with Jungkook holding you steady as he fills you inch by delicious inch. The wetness from your earlier attempts at self pleasure allows him to slide into you with ease. 

You moan unabashedly at the feeling of his thick cock inside you again, it’s warm and throbbing within your walls and you kiss the bare skin of his shoulder appreciatively. He feels like pure heaven and it’s worrisome how desperately you wish you could stay like this forever. 

“Koo, you feel so good,” you moan into his ear.

While you begin kissing his neck again, Jungkook starts bouncing you up and down on his cock via his hold on your hips. The euphoric feeling the action creates must be mutual, because a pair of vibrant moans and the clapping of your skin is the only sound in the room. His noises are deeper than normal since he’s still fresh from slumber and the low tone makes your head spin. 

When you eventually take over and pick up the pace, one of his hands leaves your hip to thread into your hair. 

“Missed this, Bams,” he tells you sincerely. “You feel fucking perfect around me.”

Jungkook brings your face close so he can kiss you. He’s gentle with his affection, lips moving at a snail’s pace to savor the feeling of kissing you once again. Tracing your bottom lip with his tongue, you moan gratefully when he pushes it past the border of your lips to meet yours. Your arms encircle his neck as you shamelessly make out, pulling him impossibly close so his bare chest is pressing on you. 

“So tight, Bams, feels fucking amazing.”

“Mm, it’s just for you. Pussy’s all yours, Koo.”

Jungkook groans aggressively and kisses you with a new wave of passion. His fingers dig into your scalp reactively and you whine, your thighs working overtime to fuck his cock into you again and again. The dual sensation of his kiss and his dick splitting you apart rattles your brain until all you can focus on are your movements. 

When he notices your pace stuttering from your impending climax, he steals control again, wrapping both arms around your waist to steady you while he thrusts into you from below. You gasp and bite into the skin of his shoulder as he fucks you with everything he has. 

It’s no surprise your orgasm approaches faster than usual, since you were already worked up from your previous ministrations. You welcome the familiar feeling of your abdomen and thighs tightening as Jungkook continues pistoning into you, kissing him again when you feel yourself tipping over the precipice. Running your fingers through his hair and tugging on the black strands, you pull a grunt from his lips that only serves to further your pursuit. 

“M’close,” you breathe into his mouth. 

“Come for me, Bams,” he replies without missing a beat.

The tip of his cock only meets your g-spot a couple more times before you come with a throaty moan, your head tipping back as Jungkook continues to fuck you through your high. His hips slow to a stop as your body relaxes and breathing levels out, so you question him with a glance. 

“What are you doing?”

“You came, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t.”

“I’m not the one with pregnancy hormones,” he chuckles.

Your hands move from his hair to caress his jaw.

“It doesn’t matter,” you tell him. “This is a two way street, Koo. You’re not a sex toy, I didn’t come in here just for me.”

Jungkook smiles sweet as pie and kisses the tip of your nose. 

“I know, Bambi,” he says. “But honestly, I think we should both get some sleep. Why don’t you stay in here with me and we can pick this up again in the morning?”

You frown, but begrudgingly agree when you notice how tired Jungkook looks. 

After pulling out, Jungkook readjusts your bottoms back to your hips before tucking himself into his pants. He cuddles into his sheets with one arm resting against the pillow next to him. Gesturing with his head towards his outstretched limb, you happily take the hint and lay your head on his tatted bicep. 

Cuddling with Jungkook is foreign, but the man himself is so familiar that it’s not awkward despite it being the first time. Jungkook wraps his other arm around your waist to bring you into his chest, and it’s shocking just how wonderful it feels to be entirely encapsulated by him. You hum appreciatively as comfort seeps into your very bones and makes a home in your nervous system. Without thinking, you start tracing over his collarbones with your fingertips and he kisses your cheek and temple. 

You both fall asleep with ease, your quiet breaths tangling together in the limited space between your faces. 

When you wake up, Jungkook is behind you, but his arm is still draped across your waist and your head remains comfortably on his bicep. You smile without realizing and cuddle deeper into his embrace, lacing your fingers with the ones resting on your stomach. 

Your view upon looking down is just your intertwined hands above your small baby bump and your smile grows exponentially, your heart squeezing in your chest at the sight of all three of you together this way. 

The sentimental moment is brief, because soon enough you recognize the feeling of Jungkook’s dick pressing against your ass and desire begins banging on your door and demanding you let it in. As any good human in your position should, you nonchalantly wiggle your ass and snicker to yourself when you feel his cock stiffening. The sound of Jungkook languidly groaning behind you lights a fire inside your stomach that blazes down to your thighs. 

His hand squeezes yours and you feel him nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Morning,” he murmurs in your ear.

“Morning wood, more like it,” you reply.

Jungkook chuckles warmly in your ear and it spreads goosebumps across your skin like wildfire. He releases your hand to grab your hip instead, pulling you into him so you can feel exactly how hard he is. Your exhale becomes a moan when he ruts against your ass and his hand leaves your hip to reach your folds. 

The second his fingers slip beneath your panties and touch your warm cunt, your mind goes to static.

“Shit, Bams, you’re fucking soaked,” he notes.

“I’ve been wet for the past two weeks straight,” you admit.

“You should’ve told me,” Jungkook says as he licks and nibbles on your earlobe. “Would’ve taken care of you.”

You whine when he starts sucking on your neck just as two of his fingers sink into your cunt. 

“Yeah,” you moan. “I’m understanding how grave a mistake that was now.” 

He laughs again before returning to his previous endeavor of kissing and licking your throat. His fingers move in and out of you lackadaisically, slowly stretching your hole open as he curls the digits against your front wall to reach that perfect spongy spot. You find yourself gripping his forearm to keep yourself steady as the pleasure threatens to pull you under its waves. 

Once Jungkook deems you wet enough, he removes his fingers from your pussy and brings them to your mouth for you to lick clean. As you work your tongue around and between his two middle fingers you hear the rustling of pants behind you. Even though the last time was mere hours ago, your heart is already racing at the thought of him stuffing you full again. 

Jungkook runs his dick through your folds and presses the tip against your leaking hole, making your essence coat his head with a pretty sheen. You moan reactively, your head meeting his shoulder while his cock stretches your velvet walls. 

The fingers previously between your lips dig into the flesh of your waist as he starts rocking into you from behind. He’s doing all the work, simultaneously pulling your hips back while he thrusts into your cunt mercilessly. You’re thankful for his diligence, because your mind is going haywire from the feeling of him throbbing inside you and the veins of his cock rubbing along your walls. It’d be impossible for you to assist him with anything in this state. 

He’s still worshipping your neck with his mouth while fucking you like an animal and the contradicting feeling forces your eyes into your skull.

“You’re so fucking tight, Bams. So wet… you’re making me fucking crazy.” His warm breath on your neck makes you keen. 

“More, Koo, I need more of you,” you reply.

Jungkook hears you loud and clear. He holds your waist with both arms to keep you snug against him so he can thrust into you with more force, his pace speeding up in conjecture with the extra effort. 

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp. “Jungkook.”

“Yeah? This what you wanted?”

“Fuck, yes, you’re so fucking big, Koo,” you whine.

He relentlessly fucks into your cunt, rolling his hips against your ass and sending his cock straight to your g-spot. Your nails make crescent moons on his arm where you’re still holding on for dear life. The other hand stretches before you to clutch the sheets like a vice for fear you’ll lose your mind if you don’t have something in your grasp. 

The melody of your moans and his grunts are downright pornagraphic and serves as filthy music to your ears. There’s nothing you want more than for him to continue fucking you, and if you could keep him buried in your cunt for all eternity, you would gladly do so. 

“You close?” He asks as he bites your ear. 

“Yes.”

“Good, gonna make a mess of you, Bambi.”

The erotic combination of words, tickling breaths, his firm chest behind you, and the massive cock spreading your pussy apart have you going institutionally insane. Somehow, he manages to gain more speed as your orgasms near and the imminent release makes you scream. It’s barely a second later that you’re coming with a pathetic cry of his name. He follows immediately, his cum marking your walls as his own while he repeatedly fucks his seed into you. 

His hips never cease their movement even once your highs wane, he just continues rolling into your cunt while his cock softens inside of you. You whimper from the oversensitivity, but even the uncomfortable pressure doesn’t make you stop him. The feeling of having him within you is too addicting to let it end just yet. 

Eventually, he stops lazily fucking you, but even then he still doesn’t pull out. You hold the position until sleep brings you both back into its embrace, Jungkook’s arms securely around you while the dripping mixture of your essences pools on the bed below.

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

The Second Trimester coming on 6/27/25 at 7:00 pm EST

[buckysleftbicep]

soft hands, heavy heart 𐙚 b.b

pairing: inexperienced!new avenger!bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, soft smut, praise kink (sorta), slow first time, unprotected sex, creampie, a tinge of angst if you squint, the fluff makes up for it

summary: bucky wants you, but he just doesn’t know how to let himself have you. but you’ll spend every second showing him how it feels to be wanted.

word count: 4.5k

author's note: hi my sweethearts! i'd like to think that after bucky returns, he would need a lot of reassurance and tlc, especially after all he has went through. i feel that he would love to be guided and to know he is loved. so i hope this fic encapsulates that 💌 love ya guys and stay safe out there! requests are open!

so in love with soft!bucky

It starts with his hands. Or rather, what they don’t do.

They hold yours when you’re walking down quiet halls in the compound, fingers interlocked, the brush of calloused skin a comfort more than anything else. 

They linger at the small of your back when no one’s looking—firm, steady, grounding you when the world gets too loud.

They cradle your face when you’re scared, trembling, coming down from the edge of something violent. Missions gone wrong, intel turned sour, blood on your skin. In those moments, his hands are everything you ever needed. Steady and safe.

But when your lips are on his?

When your body presses into his in the quiet dark of your shared bedroom, heat blooming between the both of you like something long-restrained finally breaking free?

That’s when they stop.

Always. Just… stop.

Bucky, your boyfriend, your partner, the man who has grown to be your person. He kisses you like he’s starving, like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this world, but somehow, he never touches you when it matters most.

And it’s not like you haven’t tried. You have, god you tried.

More than once, lying against his chest at night, your fingers ghosting beneath the hem of his shirt, tracing the hard lines of his abdomen. Kissing along the sharp cut of his jaw, whispering how much you want him. How much you need him.

Each time, his breath hitches, his body goes rigid. Then, slowly, carefully, almost apologetically, he pulls away from your touch. 

Not with disgust, not with rejection. There’s no coldness in the way he moves. No sharp recoil.

But there is something worse that you have come to realise. Fear.

The first time it happened, you brushed it off.

He’d had a long day. The mission briefing with Val had been rough, all sharp orders, bad intel, and barely contained frustration within the team, Walker had quite literally stormed out of the meeting room.

Bucky had come back tense, shoulders tight, jaw set, that look in his eyes that meant he was still somewhere else. Still halfway in a fight.

So when you leaned in that night, pressing soft kisses under his jaw, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, and he stilled beneath you, gently shifting away with a quiet murmur of your name, you let it go.

You curled into his side instead. Told yourself he was tired. Told yourself you were tired too. You ran your fingers lightly along his arm until his breathing evened out, steady and slow.

And when sleep finally took him, you whispered a kiss to his shoulder and closed your eyes, thinking, hoping, maybe next time.

The second time, you wondered.

It was a few nights later. He wasn’t tense then, he wasn’t distracted or moody or freshly back from some dark place.. He was relaxed, even, the kind of rare, quiet ease you didn’t always get from him.

You both had laughed over dinner, some home cooked lasagna you had whipped up after finding the recipe online. You had teased him until he smiled into his fork and shook his head, muttering about how much trouble you were.

He’d watched you like he always did, like you hung the moon and the stars, like he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this, to deserve you.

And when you kissed him that night, slow and lingering, your hands soft on his jaw, you felt that same warmth in him. The way he kissed you back, like he meant it.

So you tried again. Slid your hand beneath his shirt, fingers brushing the firm lines of his stomach.

He flinched. Not much. But enough.

And then, just like the first time, he shifted away. Pressed a kiss to your forehead and murmured, “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

You froze. Pulled your hand back like you had touched something sharp.

And then you nodded, smiling just a little too quickly.

“Yeah. Okay.”

You turned onto your side, curled up with your back to him.

Tried your hardest to not let the sting behind your eyes show.

His arm came around you a few moments later, his chest pressed to your back like nothing had changed. Like everything was still okay.

You didn’t say a word.

But that night, long after you were sure he was asleep, your eyes stayed open. Staring at the shadowed wall. Wondering what it was about you that made him pull away.

The third time, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

It had been an easy day, all things considered. No missions. No debriefs. No emergencies. Just the two of you, and the rare kind of quiet that settled into the compound like a blanket.

You ate dinner in bed, greasy takeout balanced precariously on Bucky’s lap while some forgettable movie played low in the background.

You stole bites from his container; he rolled his eyes but let you. Laughed when you misquoted a line. Kissed your cheek. Brushed rice off your shirt with the softest smile.

And maybe that was what made it worse.

Because everything had felt right. Comfortable. Easy. The kind of night that warmed you from the inside out.

It was late when the movie finally dwindled into credits. You stacked the empty containers on the nightstand, slid back under the covers, and curled against his chest with a sigh. His arm came around you like it always did, instinctive, easy. Protective.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The glow of the screen lit the room in soft, flickering blue. Your legs were tangled with his. Your cheek rested against the cotton of his t-shirt. He felt steady beneath you. Safe.

So when you tilted your head up and kissed him, it wasn’t with expectation. It wasn’t about sex, or hunger, or even want.

It was soft. Familiar. The kind of kiss you gave someone when you were in love.

He kissed you back, of course he did. That part was never the problem. He always kissed you like you were the only thing in the world that could anchor him.

But the moment your hand slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, everything changed.

Just the pad of your fingers brushing lightly over his stomach. Just a touch.

And still, he tensed.

You felt it the way someone feels a tide turning, quiet, sure, inevitable.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t recoil. He just went still. Careful. Measured. One hand lifted to catch your wrist and gently moved it away from his skin, like it wasn’t a rejection. Like it didn’t mean something.

But it did.

He turned slightly, as if he meant to settle back into bed like nothing had happened. Like you could pretend this wasn’t the third time in a row.

But you didn’t follow.

Instead, you sat up slowly, drawing your knees to your chest, the sheet falling across your thighs. You stared at the far wall, lips pressed into a thin line, throat tight.

You heard the shift in his voice before he even finished asking.

“Hey,” he said softly, already sensing the change. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t answer right away.

The silence that followed wasn’t loud. It was thick. Still. The kind of quiet that feels like the moment before something breaks.

When you finally spoke, your voice came out low, shaky.

“Do you want me?”

He didn’t move.

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. You kept your eyes on your hands, twisting your fingers in the blanket like it might keep the rest of you from unraveling.

“Because I want you,” you continued, quieter now. “And every time I try, you pull away. I know you care about me, I know you do, but I can’t help wondering if maybe I’m wrong about all of it.”

He went very, very still.

Then, “Stop.”

His voice was sharp, and the suddenness of it made you blink.

You turned, startled.

He was sitting up now, scrubbing a hand over his face. His jaw was tight. His shoulders tense. Like your words had opened something he hadn’t meant to expose.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “I didn’t mean to—just. I’m sorry. Don’t say that. Ever.”

You stared at him.

“Then talk to me,” you said softly. “Because it’s getting harder not to take it personally.”

He didn’t look at you.

His gaze dropped to the sheets. His fists were clenched in his lap. The vibranium hand trembled slightly. The other, human and scarred, looked like it was holding on to something invisible.

You sat beside him again. Close, but not touching.

Your voice was quiet. Measured, ounded, but not accusatory.

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?” you asked. “Like you’re in love with me?”

You swallowed hard.

“Because you do. Every day.”

He still didn’t say anything.

“And then I touch you, and you freeze. Like I’ve crossed a line I didn’t know was there. Like I’ve done something wrong.”

There was something in your chest pulling tighter with every second of silence. Something raw and anxious and aching.

His hands stayed clenched.

You reached for him, carefully, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. The human one. His skin was warm. His pulse jumped beneath your touch.

“Bucky,” you whispered. “What is it? You can tell me.”

He exhaled. Rough. Uneven.

For a second, you thought he might deflect. That he might dodge this like he had before — with a soft kiss or a change of subject. But then he swallowed hard, eyes flicking to yours for just a moment before dropping again.

“I haven’t…” he started, then paused. Cleared his throat. “I haven’t done anything since before the war.”

The breath caught in your chest.

He laughed, but it wasn’t amused. It was hollow. Embarrassed.

“Not just sex,” he said. “Anything. After HYDRA… after everything. I didn’t—I couldn’t.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, visibly ashamed. Smaller, somehow. Like admitting it out loud took more from him than he’d expected.

“It’s been over eighty years.”

You didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched him.

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” he said, still not meeting your eyes. “You’re here, and you’re kind, and you’ve never pushed. But I get so far and then it’s like—like my body just shuts down. Like some part of me still thinks I’m not allowed to want things.”

Your heart twisted.

Not from pity. But from the weight of it. The quiet devastation he carried like a second skin.

Then, more quietly:

“You think I don’t want you?” His voice dropped. “Fuck, sweetheart. I want you so bad it hurts. Every night I lie here hard as a fucking rock just thinking about you.”

His jaw clenched. His eyes squeezed shut.

“But I’m—” He shook his head. “I’m scared.”

You moved then.

Not away. But forward.

You reach for his wrist again, let your fingers slide gently down to his hand. His pulse was racing. His breath shallow.

“Scared of what?” you asked, softer now.

He looked at you. Finally. Really looked. And what you saw in his eyes made your chest ache, something wide and raw and terrified.

“That I’ll disappoint you,” he said. “That I won’t know what I’m doing. That you’ll want someone who’s not stuck in the goddamn 40s when it comes to this stuff.”

Your face softened. A small, aching smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, even through the tightness in your chest.

“Bucky,” you whispered.

You climbed into his lap carefully, like you were afraid you’d spook him. You framed his face with your hands, your thumbs brushing along the curve of his cheekbones.

“You’re already everything I want and more,” you said, steady and sure. “But I need you to believe that.”

His breath hitched.

“And if you let me,” you continued, voice barely above a whisper now, “I’ll show you everything. I’ll go slow. I’ll take care of you.”

He didn’t answer right away.

His eyes searched yours. Guarded, hopeful. Terrified. Like part of him still thought this might not be real.

But then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, he nodded.

And when he did, something in you finally, quietly exhaled.

You don’t rush him.

After everything he’s said,  every word laced with fear and heartbreak and hope, the last thing he needs is haste. Or pressure. Or you moving too fast for him to feel safe.

So you just breathe for a moment.

You stay in his lap, arms curled gently around his neck, your forehead resting against his. And you breathe.

His chest rises beneath yours, shaky and tight. His hands are still in his lap, fists curled like he doesn’t know what to do with them,  like he doesn’t quite believe this is real, like one wrong move will send the whole thing crumbling to pieces.

So you start small.

You tilt your head and kiss the corner of his mouth. Once. Then again, slower this time, letting your lips linger against his skin.

His breath stutters. His lips part.

You kiss him properly next, slow, deep, but gentle, your mouth moving against his with no urgency, no push, just quiet devotion. Like he’s something sacred.

His hands twitch in his lap. He doesn’t lift them yet, but he doesn’t pull away either.

You murmur against his mouth, “Can I touch you?”

He swallows thickly. Nods.

You kiss him one more time, a promise, before you shift in his lap, your thighs bracketing his, and reach for the hem of his shirt.

The moment your fingers graze the fabric, he tenses.

You pause. You meet his eyes.

“I’ll stop any time you need me to,” you whisper, your voice soft but sure.

He holds your gaze. His throat bobs with a hard swallow. Then he nods again, slower this time. “I want you to.”

You offer a gentle smile. “Okay.”

You lift his shirt carefully, baring him inch by inch. You don’t rush. You kiss every strip of skin you uncover, the ridges of his ribs, the warm slope of his sternum, the sharp cut of his collarbone.

You take your time with it, as if mapping him out with your mouth, like you’re memorising every inch with intention.

When the shirt is high enough, he lifts his arms, stiffly, hesitantly and lets you pull it over his head. You toss it aside and look at him.

He’s bare from the waist up. All muscle and scar tissue, strength and survival. The room’s low light catches on the vibranium, glints over old wounds, highlights the long-healed lines across his chest and side.

You let your gaze roam.

He doesn’t meet your eyes. He looks away, jaw tight, breathing shallow.

You reach out, slow, deliberate, and place your palm against his chest. Right over his heart.

He flinches. Just a little. A twitch in his shoulder. A held breath.

But he doesn’t pull away. You lean in and kiss the skin just beside your hand.

“Is this okay?”

His voice is low and rough. “Yeah. Feels nice.”

You smile against his skin, then keep going.

Your mouth trails lower, painting a path down the plane of his chest. You kiss over his heart again, then rest your cheek there for a moment.

“Still beating,” you whisper, a soft marvel. 

You feel it stutter beneath your lips.

Your hands slide lower, down his abdomen, his skin warm, twitching under your fingers. You follow the faint trail of hair that disappears beneath his waistband, fingertips brushing gently, not demanding. Just exploring.

He exhales shakily, stomach tensing, hips shifting just slightly.

“There’s not a single part of you I don’t want to touch,” you murmur, kissing along his ribs.

He turns his face, like he’s trying to hide, like the intimacy of your words is too much.

“Hey,” you say softly. You reach up, cupping his jaw, gently guiding his gaze back to yours. “Let me say it. Let me mean it.”

His lips part like he might argue, but he doesn’t.

You rest your forehead against his.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper. “So strong, You’ve been through hell and still came of it.”

His eyes flutter shut. His breath catches.

Your lips brush his softly, like reassurance. Then again.

And this time, when your hands slide down to the waistband of his sweats, he doesn’t flinch.

You look up at him. “Can I take these off?”

His voice is strained. “Yeah.”

You move slowly, tugging them down inch by inch, watching his face the entire time. He lifts his hips to help, barely, and you kiss the inside of his knee as you go. Then the other.

By the time you’ve got them off, he’s flushed all over, from his chest to his ears to the very tips of his fingers. And trembling.

His cock is hard and leaking, resting against his stomach. Big. Heavy. Throbbing.

He tries to close his legs out of instinct. Reflex.

But you shift forward between them and place your hands gently on the outside of his thighs.

“You’re doing so good,” you say softly. “Are you okay?”

His nod is jerky. “Just—don’t look too long.”

You blink. “Why not?”

He swallows hard. “’Cause you’ll know I don’t have a damn clue what I’m doing.”

You smile, warm, never mocking.

“Baby,” you say gently, “I already know.”

You lean in, kissing the inside of his thigh, slowly, gently..

“But it’s not a problem,” you murmur, lips brushing his skin again. “It’s a privilege.”

His head drops back, his fists clench the blanket. You trail your mouth up his thigh, closer and closer, and then wrap your fingers around the base of his cock.

He jerks under your touch, breath catching sharp in his throat.

“Fuck—” His hips twitch. His mouth opens, like he’s trying to say something and can’t find the words.

You stroke him once, slow, deliberate, and his entire body shudders.

He’s flushed dark at the tip, leaking already.

“Nobody’s ever…” he starts, but doesn’t finish.

You look up. “Ever?”

He nods, barely. “Not like this.”

You smile. “Good.”

You stroke again, firmer now, and his jaw clenches, breath ragged.

Your thumb brushes over the tip, collecting the slick, and he whines, high, desperate, like he’s trying to hold everything in and failing miserably.

You kiss just below the head and he moans, low and broken.

“Holy shit—sweetheart, I’m not gonna—fuck, I’m not gonna last—”

You press a kiss to his hip. “That’s okay. That’s why we’ll take our time.”

You climb back into his lap, hand still wrapped around him, your other resting at his cheek to keep him grounded. He looks dazed, overwhelmed, like he doesn’t know whether to hold you or fall apart in your arms.

“Can I ride you?” you whisper.

His hands shoot to your hips like a lifeline. “Please,” he breathes. “I want you to. So bad.”

You guide him to your entrance, your slick soaking him already, and ease down, slow, careful, inch by inch — until he’s fully seated inside you.

Bucky’s head drops back, a strangled moan caught in his throat.

“F-fuck, baby—” he gasps. “Too much. Feels too—”

You don’t move.

You stay still in his lap, your hands on his chest, letting him feel you. Letting his body adjust. Letting the moment settle between you like something holy.

“You okay?” you whisper.

He nods, frantic. “Yeah. I—just give me a second.”

You wait. When his eyes open again, they’re soaked with emotion. Glassy and bare.

“You okay?” you ask.

“I think you’re killing me,” he says hoarsely. “But I don’t wanna stop.”

You smile.

Then you start to move.

Slow, gentle, rocking your hips, letting him feel everything, every squeeze, every inch, every slow drag of your walls around him.

His mouth falls open. He moans your name like a prayer.

“Feels too good,” he pants. “I’m not—fuck, I’m not gonna—”

You lean in, your forehead pressed to his.

“Then don’t,” you whisper. And he does.

With a choked cry, he spills inside you, body tensing, arms wrapping tight around you, hips bucking helplessly. His hands shake against your back as his breath catches in your hair.

He clings to you like he would fall apart without you.

And even after it’s over,  even after he’s finished, breathless and wrecked, he doesn’t let go.

He just holds you. And for the first time in years, he lets himself be held, too.

He’s still trembling.

You don’t move. You don’t shift or speak right away. You just stay where you are, wrapped around him, your body cradling his, the last aftershocks of his orgasm still echoing in the taut lines of his body.

His cock is still inside you, softening slowly. The stretch of him, the heat of him, the slick, overwhelming closeness of it all—it makes your heart ache in the gentlest way.

Your fingers stroke through his hair, trailing through the sweat-damp strands at the nape of his neck. Then down his spine. Slow, comforting passes, like you’re coaxing his body back into itself.

He clutches you tighter.

His arms are around your waist, strong and firm—not bruising, not panicked. But desperate. Like he’s afraid that if he lets go, this will all vanish. Like maybe none of this was real, and holding on to you is the only thing keeping him grounded.

You don’t pull away.

You let him hold you. Let him shake. Let his breath shudder against your neck while your hand keeps moving slowly down his back.

His face is buried against your throat, and when he finally speaks, it’s muffled—barely audible. Raw.

“I didn’t mean to finish so fast.”

Your heart breaks for him a little, even as your lips tilt into a soft smile.

You press a kiss to his temple—tender, grounding.

“I know.”

His voice is barely there. “I just—fuck, I couldn’t stop it. You felt so good. I couldn’t think."

You hum softly, stroking his hair again. “That’s kind of the point, baby.”

He lifts his head, just a little, pulling back enough to meet your gaze. His eyes are wide, glassy, dazed, those perfect cerulean eyes soft and unguarded, boyish, almost.

His cheeks are flushed. His hair’s a mess. His lips are kiss-swollen.

He looks completely ruined. Completely beautiful. Yours.

“But you didn’t—” he starts, then hesitates. His gaze drops. “You didn’t finish.”

You don’t stop smiling. There’s no hurt in it, no impatience, just quiet warmth.

“I wasn’t trying to,” you whisper, brushing his damp hair from his forehead. “Tonight was about you.”

His brows pull together, like he doesn’t quite know how to process that.

“That’s not fair,” he mumbles. “I want to make you feel good too.”

“You already do,” you murmur, your nose brushing his. “But if you really want to keep going…”

You pause deliberately, shifting your hips slightly.

Just enough for him to feel the movement, just enough to tease.

He gasps, high and sharp, his body jolting.

“…we can.”

His hands flex at your waist. His eyes flutter. His lips part like he’s trying to speak but can’t form a single thought.

“I’m still—,” he whispers, like it’s a warning. But there’s no hesitation in his tone. Only want.

“But I want it,” he adds. “I want you.”

You kiss him again, slow and deep, and begin to move. Barely. Just a gentle roll of your hips, enough to stir friction between your bodies again.

He moans into your mouth, soft and aching.

You rock slowly, dragging your walls against his still-sensitive cock. He twitches inside you, starting to thicken again already. It’s slow, but unmistakable.

“Okay?” you whisper.

He nods frantically, hands gripping your waist like he’s drowning in sensation. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Just—shit. I’ve never… I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

You smile against his jaw. “You wanna come again for me?”

His moan is barely a sound. His eyes flutter shut.

“Yes,” he breathes. “Fuck, yes. Please—”

You tighten your thighs and roll your hips again, drawing a sharp gasp from him.

“Such good manners,” you whisper, kissing his throat. “So sweet for me.”

Your hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your clit with practiced ease. You start to circle, slow, wet, just enough pressure to build your own heat.

He watches you.

Like you’re made of stars, like he’s never seen anything so beautiful.

“Touch me,” you murmur. “Please, Bucky. I want your hands on me.”

It’s the only encouragement he needs.

His hands move slowly, softly, trembling,  sliding up your sides, grazing your ribs, cupping your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples, and you moan, arching into his touch.

The sound makes him groan, deep and wrecked.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. “So fuckin’ perfect, baby—can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

His voice breaks on the last word.

You’re slick around him now, your arousal mixing with the mess from earlier. Every slow rock of your hips has him thickening more, twitching inside you, inch by inch.

His thighs are shaking. His jaw clenches.

“Feels so good,” he whines. “I don’t wanna stop. Don’t wanna come yet. Wanna feel you forever.”

You ride him harder now, the heat in your belly rising faster.

“You feel that?” you gasp. “How close I am?”

His hands tighten on your hips. His breath turns ragged.

“Please—please come around me, sweetheart—need to feel it—need to feel you—”

You bury your face in his neck. And let go.

Your whole body seizes around him, a white-hot wave crashing through you, stealing your breath, your balance, your thoughts. Your moan is broken, helpless, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Your walls clamp down hard around him.

And that’s all it takes.

He thrusts up once. Then again. Deep, desperate. A cry tearing from his throat as he comes again, shaking, gasping, flooding you with warmth.

His arms wrap tight around you.

He holds you close. Close enough to feel your heartbeat thunder against his. Close enough that the tremors in your bodies blur together, indistinguishable.

This time, his grip is softer. Still strong, but different.

Not desperate. Tender.

His hand strokes up your spine. His lips press to your temple, then your hair, then your jaw. Like he can’t get close enough.

You stay there, wrapped around each other, skin to skin, breath mingled and unsteady and you don’t rush to move.

Not yet.

“Jesus,” he whispers eventually, voice raw. “What the fuck just happened?”

You laugh softly, breathless, dazed. “That was called good sex,.”

He groans into your neck. “That was more than good. That was—fuck. That was divine.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his hair.

You collapse gently against his chest, boneless and warm, and he doesn’t let go. His arms stay around you, wrapped like a shield, like a promise.

Neither of you move for a long time. There’s nothing left to prove. Nothing to say.

Just the slow hum of your heartbeats and the safe, sacred space you’ve made between the two of you.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Bucky feels wanted.

And safe. And home.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed it! if you did, drop a comment or a reblog! thank you my loves, your support means the world to me! <3333333

[rosemaryhoney27]

MisDialed Hearts

inspired by this Prompt

Link

Tim Drake was cornered—again.

It had been one of those evenings, the kind that made Tim question every life decision that led him to being a CEO and a vigilante. Another gala. Another crowd of sharks in designer suits. Another round of well-meaning Gotham socialites asking about his dating life with a glint in their eyes like they were just waiting to pounce.

He needed out.

That’s when it happened. His phone buzzed with an unknown number. An escape hatch from the universe. A gift from the chaotic gods of Gotham.

Without hesitating, Tim pressed Answer and raised the phone to his ear like it was a lifeline.

“Hey, babe,” he said smoothly, walking briskly toward the exit, waving apologetically to the board members mid-sentence. “You’re calling now? I told you I was gonna be late—don't be mad. I'm on my way.”

There was a long pause on the other end. Then a confused voice said, “Uh. I think I called the wrong number...?”

Tim’s eyes lit up. Jackpot.

“I’ll be there in just a moment to pick you up,” he replied warmly, as if this was a normal thing, as if he hadn’t just started weaving a lie that would need more patching than a Gotham street after Scarecrow blew up half the block.

“Wha–?! Wait—what do you mea—”

Click. Tim hung up with a satisfied smile. He could already feel Babs and Dick squinting suspiciously at him from across the ballroom, probably comparing this situation to “that time Tim faked an uncle for six months.”

He needed someone real to make this lie work. Even if it started with a wrong number.

And he had the number.

— Meanwhile…

Danny Fenton blinked at his phone. He was sitting cross-legged on his twin bed in his Gotham University dorm, textbooks open in front of him, a microwaved quesadilla cooling by his side.

He'd been trying to call his physics lab partner, but either she changed her number or—

Or some random dude just answered way too comfortably and now might be on his way to pick him up. For a date.

“…Gotham,” Danny muttered, flopping backwards and groaning into his pillow. “I’m too tired for this.”

He considered texting the guy back, but he’d barely locked his phone when a black car pulled up in front of his dorm building.

A tall figure stepped out. a sinfully attractive man in a sleek black suit, tossing his keys to a valet who wasn’t even there five seconds ago, like Gotham just conjured them from the shadows.

Tim Drake.

“Are you Danny?” he asked, walking toward him with a smile that said, just go with it, please, but in the most polite, billionaire way possible.

Danny blinked. “Yeah…?”

Tim opened the car door. “Perfect. Sorry I’m late.”

“…okay.” Danny got in. He was too tired to fight this. Also? Tim smelled like expensive cologne and decisions that made bad ideas sound good.

“Just so you know,” Danny said as they pulled into traffic, “I have no idea what’s going on.”

Tim gave him a sideways glance, smirk playing on his lips. “You called me. I just answered.”

“You said you were picking me up for a date.”

“And I’m a man of my word.”

Danny stared at him, dumbfounded. “Are you always like this?”

“Only when I’m being watched.”

Danny glanced behind them. Yep. That was definitely Nightwing in a very poorly concealed civilian outfit tailing their car. Robin was flying overhead. Batgirl’s silhouette was just visible on a rooftop.

“Oh my god,” Danny muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You dragged me into a Bat thing, didn’t you?”

Tim gave him an innocent look. “Do you want dinner? I know a place.”

Danny stared at him for another beat, then leaned back in the seat with a sigh.

“You know what? Fine. You’re hot, I’m tired, and I skipped lunch. Let’s go.”

Tim smirked again. “Excellent. Just don’t be surprised if someone tries to kill us. It’s Gotham, after all.”

Danny groaned. “That’s fine. I’m half-dead anyway.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Wait—what?”

Danny smirked this time. “You faked a boyfriend. I fake being alive sometimes. Let’s call it even.”

Tim laughed. “Oh, I like you.”

“I’m still charging you for gas money,” Danny deadpanned.

"But I'm the one driving"

"So."

They were a disaster already. Gotham might never recover.

[cheftsunoda]

George x albon!reader x Carmen? Alex’s sister that comes to the paddock?

crush — gr63 + carmen

smau + blurbs

george russell x!influencer albon reader x carmen mundt

alex albon x !sister reader

carmen had never met yn albon in person, but from the glimpses she’d seen on social media—effortless beauty, sharp humor, and just the right amount of chaos—she was already smitten. so when yn finally walks into the paddock one sunny afternoon, turning heads like it’s second nature, carmen isn’t surprised that her heart skips a beat. what she is surprised by? the way george starts stammering and grinning like a schoolboy with a crush. oh, this was going to be fun.

fc : amberly yang (bbyambi on ig)

—

yn_albon

liked by alex_albon, lilymhe, lando & 5,010,889 others.

yn_albon : on a brand trip, playing roblox and being lily’s wag all at the same time. (i can multitask unlike alex) (he thinks just bc he is busy driving a car in circles that he is excused from wag duties) (i got you my lily)

tagged : lilymhe

—

view 175,020 other comments.

username00 : the fact that both the albon sibs are so chronically online that they always have memes of each other in their photo dumps makes me the happiest.

liked by yn_albon

↳ yn_albon : part of my job is to be chronically online…idfk what he is doing

liked by lilymhe and lando

alex_albon : im fighting for my life on the track to make more robux for when they unban me

liked by yn_albon

↳ yn_albon : honestly i can respect the grind

liked by alex_albon

↳ yn_albon : @/roblox can u pls unban my brother? we want to play dti together. 🙏🏻🙏🏻

liked by alex_albon and lilymhe

↳ username1 : pls😭 they are so unserious

lilymhe : the bestest wag (sorry alex) love you to the moon and back😇

liked by yn_albon

↳ alex_albon : the internet quite literally argues that i am the best wag

↳ lilymhe : yeah but the internet hasn’t seen yn in her wag era. she greeted me with matcha and braided my hair before the tournament:)

liked by yn_albon and alex_albon

↳ alex_albon : yn stop making me look bad infront of my girlfriend and the internet

liked by yn_albon

↳ yn_albon : if you don’t marry her soon i will😈

liked by lilymhe

lando : just give her alex’s seat while we’re at it, she’s already doing everything else

liked by yn_albon

↳ alex_albon : you are not helping.

liked by yn_albon

yourbff : i genuinely cannot keep up with your ass anymore. in 3 different countries and 4 different roblox servers at once

liked by yn_albon

↳ yn_albon : im just good like that. call you when lilz and i land

georgerussell63 : okay but share your username…for scientific purposes 😎

liked by yn_albon

↳ yn_albon : check dm’s👉🏻👈🏻

liked by georgerussell63

↳ alex_albon : really?? you wouldn’t get on last night but you will willingly play roblox with my sister.

↳ georgerussell63 : yes 😁

liked by yn_albon

carmenmmundt : pretty girl ❤️

liked by yn_albon

↳ yn_albon : says the prettiest girl ever

liked by carmenmmundt and georegrussell63

—

The jet smells like leather seats and expensive champagne. Lily tosses her golf cap onto the nearest empty seat and sinks into the plush cushion across from you, her hair still slightly damp from the post-tournament shower. Her phone’s buzzing nonstop—congratulatory texts, press notifications, probably three new swing analysis videos from her coach—but she ignores it all in favor of kicking off her sneakers and grinning at you like you’ve both just pulled off a heist.

“You think he’s going to freak out?” she asks, tucking her legs up as the jet begins taxiing.

You grin back. “You just placed 3rd in a tournament in another country and now we’re flying to ambush him in the paddock. If he doesn’t cry, I want a refund on him. A new brother for me and a new boyfriend for you.”

Lily laughs, reaching for a mini water bottle but never breaking eye contact. “Also, if he doesn’t hug me before he hugs you, I’m breaking up with him.”

“That’s fair,” you say, mock-serious. “I’ll even do it for you.”

The plane begins to climb, and the world below disappears in a blur of clouds. You sink deeper into your seat, blanket tucked around your legs, as Lily slides across to sit beside you. She rests her head on your shoulder without asking—like always—and pulls out her iPad, but doesn’t unlock it. You both sit there in the silence for a moment, the kind that only comes from a long day and a shared secret.

“You think he has any clue?” she finally asks.

You shake your head. “None. He thinks I’m still in New York on a campaign shoot and that you’ve gone radio silent for your post-tourny ‘recovery era.’ He literally said, ‘See you in like… two weeks maybe?’ this morning.”

Lily smiles, slow and dangerous. “Perfect. I love ruining his sense of control.”

You glance over at her and laugh. “I love when we’re unhinged together.”

She raises her water bottle in a toast. “To chaos. And to your brother, who’s about to have a very emotional Friday.”

You clink your bottle to hers and let the hum of the engines rock you both into quiet anticipation. Because if there’s one thing you and Lily have mastered, it’s multitasking—and surprising the hell out of your brother is the next on the list.

—

The paddock is its usual buzz—team radios chirping, camera crews weaving between garages, PR reps speed-walking like their lives depend on it. You’re tucked under a cap and oversized sunglasses, walking just a half-step behind Lily as she confidently leads the way through security. She’s already flashed her pass like three times, her glow giving her a kind of untouchable aura that’s working in your favor. No one’s looked too closely at you yet, and that’s exactly how you want it. Because Alex has no idea you’re here.

The last time you saw him in person was three months ago. Between your insane travel schedule, influencer events, his race calendar, and general Albon family chaos, you’ve both been surviving on chaotic FaceTime calls, blurry selfies, and the occasional meme exchange at 3AM. You missed him more than you realized—until now, walking into the paddock where he’s just around the corner.

Lily slows as you approach the Williams hospitality suite, tilting her head and smirking. “Okay, how are we doing this? Dramatic walk-in? Surprise hug? Fake press ambush?”

You grin. “I was thinking of yelling and just launching myself at him.”

She laughs and nods. “Classic. I support it.”

Before either of you can fully plan the ambush, you spot him. Alex, standing near the motorhome entrance, in full race kit, laughing at something his engineer just said, completely unaware of the storm about to hit him. And just like that, your feet move without your permission. You break into a jog—hair bouncing under your cap, sunglasses sliding slightly down your nose—and before anyone can stop you, you’re barreling into him from behind.

“HI, LOSER!” you shout, flinging your arms around him.

He stumbles, fully yelping, then freezes.

“WHAT THE—” His voice cracks. He twists around so fast you nearly fall backward, and then the sunglasses come off and your cap flips back, and he finally sees your face.

“YN???” His voice is way too loud. “NO. NO. YOU’RE—WHAT???”

He grabs your face like you’re a hallucination, blinking hard. “You’re here? You’re actually—wait—how?”

You’re laughing, almost in tears from how shocked he looks. “Surprise, idiot!”

And then he’s pulling you into the tightest hug, one arm locked around your shoulders, the other cradling the back of your head like he’s scared you’ll vanish again.

“I haven’t seen you in months,” he mumbles into your hair. “I thought you were in New York?”

“Diversion,” you whisper dramatically. “I lied. Lily helped.”

As if on cue, Lily strolls up behind you, completely unbothered and smug. “Hi babe,” she says sweetly, planting a kiss on his cheek.

Alex pulls away from your hug just enough to look at her, still wide-eyed. “Did you both just—plan an ambush on me?”

“Obviously,” you and Lily say at the same time.

He laughs, almost breathless. “You two are terrorists. I’m calling mum.”

“I already did yesterday,” you reply, smirking. “She knew. She said, and I quote, ‘Don’t give him a heart attack, please.’”

Alex groans, burying his face in your shoulder again. “I’m gonna cry. No seriously, I might cry.”

You pat his back. “You’re allowed. But only if it’s ugly crying. We need the full drama.”

Lily pulls out her phone. “I’m recording just in case.”

He flips her off without looking. In the distance, you can hear someone yell “IS THAT YN??” followed by Lando loudly going “I told you she was hotter in person!”

You’ll deal with that chaos later. For now, it’s just you, your brother, and your best friend. And the first real moment in months where it feels like everything is exactly where it’s supposed to be.

—

You’re still tucked under Alex’s arm, half-leaning into the pit wall inside the Williams garage, laughing over some chaotic memory involving one of your childhood hamster funerals, when you feel Lily tap your leg.

“Don’t look now,” she mutters under her breath, “but your fans are approaching.”

You lift a brow. “Fans?”

She tilts her head toward the open paddock walkway. And there they are. George Russell and Carmen Mundt.

Not even subtle about it—walking suspiciously slow past the garage entrance, sunglasses on, heads angled just enough to catch a glimpse inside. George does a double take, then triple take. Carmen nearly walks into a catering cart because she’s so focused on not being obvious about looking. She is very obvious. Alex glances over and smirks.

“Oh my God,” he mutters. “What are they—are they circling the garage?”

“Like sharks,” Lily says. “Sharks that have a crush on your sister.”

“Should we wave?” you ask, already raising your hand.

“No,” Alex says, far too pleased with himself.

Before you can protest, Alex strides to the edge of the garage and calls out, very loudly, “GEORGE! CARMEN! You looking for someone or just lost?”

George freezes. Carmen tries to act casual but ends up bumping into George’s shoulder.

Alex waves them over. “Come say hi, you creeps.”

You try not to laugh as they walk over—George slightly flushed, Carmen attempting nonchalance with all the grace of someone who definitely spent the last ten minutes plotting this.

Alex leans casually against the wall and wraps an arm around your shoulders like he’s presenting a championship trophy. “You two know my very cool, smart, and famous little sister, YN, yeah?”

George’s eyes practically sparkle. “Oh, we’ve heard of her.”

Carmen grins, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Followed her for years, actually.”

Lily snorts quietly.

“YN,” Alex continues, tone smug as hell, “meet George—who enjoys listening to Taylor Swift before races and Carmen, who once almost tackled a PR intern because she thought they were taking her snacks.”

“That’s a lie,” Carmen says, blushing. “He was trying to steal the last brownie.”

“Fair,” you say, sticking your hand out. “I respect snack based violence.”

Carmen beams as she shakes your hand, maybe holding on a little longer than necessary. “Your posts from Morocco last month? Life-changing. You basically made me book a ticket.”

“Yeah, and that photo dump with the glitter robe?” George adds quickly. “Iconic. No notes.”

You blink. “You saw that?”

“I saw all of that,” George says, too fast, then freezes. “I mean—I just—you know. It was in the explore tab.”

Alex is grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “George, you okay? Bit red in the face, mate.”

George clears his throat. “No, yeah. All good. Just warm in here.”

“We’re in the shade,” Lily says dryly, sipping from her water bottle.

Carmen ignores all of them, eyes still on you. “I love that you’re here this weekend. Maybe we’ll see you around the paddock?”

“Oh, she’ll be around,” Alex says, way too cheerfully. “Attached to my side and/or sabotaging the team radios.”

“She’s welcome to sabotage mine anytime,” George mutters, then straightens up. “Not sabotage. I meant—guest commentary. You know. Enthusiastic support.”

You raise a brow, amused. “Noted.”

Carmen tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to look casual. “If you’re not doing anything later, you should come find us. There’s a little driver dinner after quali.”

Lily’s already smiling. “She’s free. We’re both free.”

George nods eagerly. “Perfect. Yeah. Great.”

Alex just shakes his head, laughing.

—

The restaurant is candlelit and fancy enough that Alex’s shirt has actual buttons. The long, private table is tucked onto a quiet terrace with a view of the paddock lights still glowing in the distance. Drivers are trickling in slowly—Max, Carlos, Lando, a few team personnel—and you’re tucked between Lily and Alex near the middle, your dress a little too pretty for the chaos you’ve been surrounded by all day. You spot them before they spot you.

George, all charm and cologne and crisp white shirt, walking alongside Carmen, who’s glowing in a silk dress.

“Oh no,” Alex mutters around a bite of bread. “The dynamic duo.”

“Be nice,” you hum, dabbing your mouth with a napkin.

“I’m being nice,” he says. “I’m also preparing myself to watch my best friend and his girlfriend flirt with my sister.”

Lily smirks. “Honestly, can’t wait.”

George spots you and lights up immediately.

“YN! You made it,” he says as he slides into the seat across from you—conveniently vacating the original place card.

Carmen swoops in a second later, gracefully sliding into the seat next to you, leaning in close with a conspiratorial grin. “I almost changed my outfit three times tonight. Now I’m glad I didn’t.”

You blink. “You look incredible. You could’ve come in a garbage bag and still won.”

“Oh, stop,” she says, smiling in that way that makes it hard to look away.

Across the table, George clears his throat and leans forward. “She’s right, though. You look amazing.”

“Me or Carmen?” you ask, feigning confusion.

“Yes,” George says, like it’s the most natural answer in the world.

You laugh, and Alex visibly clenches his jaw. “I need a drink.”

“I’ll get you one,” Carmen offers—already rising from her seat.

“I’ll come too,” George says, getting up at the exact same time.

They both stop and look at each other, frozen mid-step.

Lily sips her wine and whispers, “This is amazing.”

Carmen smiles, somehow angelic and savage. “You can grab the drinks, George. I’ll keep YN company.”

George narrows his eyes. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

You turn to Carmen, who leans on her elbow, close enough that her perfume mixes with the scent of the wine. “So,” she says, “are you always this good at crashing dinners and making half the grid fall in love with you?”

You raise a brow. “Half? That’s underestimating me.”

She laughs, and it’s soft and real, and you find yourself relaxing more than you have in days.

George returns moments later with a drink he clearly put effort into—sparkling, colorful, garnished with citrus and possibly some sort of effort-induced love potion. He sets it down in front of you and looks smug.

“Special request,” he says. “Told the bartender it had to be beautiful. Like you.”

Alex chokes on his water. Carlos, from three seats away, just whispers, “wow.”

“George,” you say, blinking at the drink, “did you just riz me with a mocktail?”

“If it worked, I won’t apologize.”

Carmen gives him a look. “Desperate times, huh?”

“You’re the one who changed seats to be closer to her,” he fires back.

“And you’re the one who literally sprinted to make her a drink.”

You glance between the two of them, holding back a smile. “You know I can hear both of you, right?”

They both turn to you at once.

“Just making sure you feel welcome,” Carmen says sweetly.

“Just making sure you don’t waste time with bad company,” George says, with a look that is not subtle.

Lily leans into Alex, who looks like he’s rethinking every life decision he’s ever made.

“Should we intervene?” she whispers.

Alex sighs. “No. Let them tire themselves out. She’ll pick the one who offers snacks first. That’s always the move.”

You smile, sipping the mocktail George brought you, while Carmen casually rests her hand on your chair, her fingers brushing the back of your shoulder like it means nothing. It’s going to be a long dinner. But you’re definitely not bored.

—

The dinner has long since faded into candle stubs and half empty wine glasses, drivers breaking off in pairs to catch early nights, debriefs, or one last drink. You step out into the cool night air, your heels clicking softly on the cobblestone path leading down the hotel driveway, Lily and Alex already ahead of you, arm in arm and lost in some shared joke. You’re about to call after them when you hear your name.

“YN—wait.”

You turn. Carmen, heels in hand now, jogging slightly to catch up. George is right behind her, loosened collar and flushed cheeks, the kind that say he’s had one drink too many or just been nervous all night.

“Escaping without saying goodbye?” Carmen asks, falling into step beside you.

“I was giving you a moment to catch up,” you say with a grin.

George shoves his hands in his pockets. “More like giving us a chance to psych ourselves up.”

You blink. “For what?”

The two of them exchange a glance—quick, nervous, familiar. It hits you then—how in sync they are. And how out of sync they’ve been all evening whenever you’re around. It’s like their rhythm shifts whenever you’re in orbit.

Carmen inhales, then exhales slowly. “Okay. So, this might be insane, but we’ve kind of been talking—”

“—for a while,” George adds quickly.

“And we were wondering,” she continues, stepping slightly in front of him now, “if you’d maybe… let us take you out?”

You raise a brow, heart skipping. “Both of you?”

George shrugs, sheepish but genuine. “We’re not exactly subtle, are we?”

You laugh, mostly because no, they’re not. The lingering glances, the drink wars, the not-so-quiet seat swapping at dinner—it’s all been loud in the most ridiculous, oddly sweet way.

“We figured if we waited any longer, someone else on the grid would try to beat us to it,” Carmen says, voice softer now. “And I don’t share well.”

“Unless it’s with me,” George adds, nudging her shoulder.

She smirks. “That’s different.”

The quiet settles between the three of you. It’s not awkward, though. It’s a little charged, a little hopeful, and very real.

You fold your arms and tilt your head, teasing. “So, let me get this straight. You’re asking if I want to go on a date—with both of you—after the race weekend, when you’re either wildly celebrating or emotionally spiraling?”

George grins. “Exactly.”

“We promise to be charming either way,” Carmen says, her fingers brushing your forearm.

You pause, pretend to think. “Only if it involves another one of George’s mocktails.”

They both lean in slightly, twin expressions of relief and excitement blooming across their faces.

“That’s a yes?” George asks.

You nod. “That’s a yes.”

Carmen’s smile turns a little dangerous, a little thrilled. “Good. Because I already had the outfits picked.”

“And I already booked the restaurant,” George admits.

You roll your eyes fondly. “So this wasn’t spontaneous at all.”

“Calculated risk,” Carmen says with a wink.

And as you fall into step with them—George on your left, Carmen on your right—you think maybe a little risk isn’t such a bad thing after all.

—

yn_albon

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon, georgerussell63 and 7,001,100 others.

yn_albon : idk what to caption this but i saw carlos sainz flirting with james vowles today.

tagged : carmenmmundt, alex_albon and lilymhe

—

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carlossainz55 : i was not flirting…james is just…very charismatic 🧍🏻‍♂️

liked by yn_albon

↳ yn_albon : it’s okay to be in love with ur boss carlos. i won’t tell

liked by carlossainz55

alex_albon : go weeyums!!!! (they do that all the time)

liked by yn_albon

↳ yn_albon : the longing looks r something else. felt like i was in a soap opera.

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williamsracing : we plead the fifth. GO WEEYUMS!!!!

liked by yn_albon and alex_albon

lilymhe : i was too busy staring at you. you are too hot.

liked by yn_albon

↳ alex_albon : was anyone actually watching me today???

liked by yn_albon and lilymhe

↳ yn_albon : not everything is about you alex. it’s called a team for a reason.

liked by lilymhe and alex_albon

carmenmmundt : so happy to be able to spend the day with the prettiest girl in the paddock 🤍

liked by yn_albon

↳ yn_albon : you are the best 🩷

liked by carmenmmundt

—

Carmen finds you outside the motorhome just before lights out, all white sunglasses and effortless grace, her Mercedes pass swinging around her neck like she was born with it. She grins as she approaches, and for a second, you forget the crowd around you—forget the chaos of race day, the roar of engines in the background, the crew rushing past with unreadable expressions. It’s just her.

“You ready?” she asks, nudging your arm gently with her elbow.

“I was born ready,” you say, even though your heart’s been beating at double speed since she texted, “Watch the race with me?”

You follow her to the viewing deck above the garage, where the sunlight is sharp and golden and the crowd noise blends into a distant hum. She leans on the railing next to you, arms crossed, head tilted toward the track—but her eyes keep flicking to you, like she’s more interested in your reactions than the timing screens.

Every time something happens—an overtake, a near miss, Alex making a brilliant move into Turn 1—Carmen taps your arm or gasps quietly or leans in just enough that you catch the faint scent of her perfume. At one point, she offers you a pair of headphones, only to lean closer and say, “But if you wear them, I can’t make dumb commentary in your ear the whole time.”

You don’t put them on.

Instead, you laugh and let her narrate the race in a running whisper that’s more gossip than strategy. And through it all—there’s this buzz. This something.

The way she rests her hand casually on your lower back when she leans over the rail. The way your shoulders brush, again and again, and neither of you pull away. The little inside jokes that start forming before lap twenty.

At one point, you’re both cheering wildly for Alex’s overtake, and you throw your arms up without thinking. Carmen grabs your hand and spins you dramatically, like you’re dancing in the middle of a champagne shower. You both burst out laughing, flushed from the sun and the shared joy, and she doesn’t let go of your hand right away.

“Best race day I’ve had in a while,” she says quietly, eyes locked on yours as the cheers from below echo around you.

“Same,” you reply, and your voice comes out softer than you expect.

For the rest of the race, she stands just a little closer. Says your name just a little more often. And by the time the checkered flag waves, you’re both already making plans for future races.

—

The restaurant is quiet, tucked away on a rooftop overlooking the city, warm lights casting a soft gold glow across the terrace. It’s not flashy, not the kind of place drivers usually get dragged to by sponsors or brands. It’s intimate, quiet, chosen with intention. You knew something was different the moment you stepped out of the car.

George was already waiting, shirt slightly unbuttoned, hands in his pockets, eyes lighting up when he saw you. Carmen had arrived with him, slipping her hand into yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Now, the three of you sit at a small round table under string lights, the city glittering behind you like someone scattered stars too close to earth. Dinner has come and gone, wine glasses nearly empty, dessert barely touched. It’s the silence that tips you off. Not awkward—comfortable. Full. George is watching you with the softest smile, like he’s memorizing the curve of your cheek. Carmen’s hand is resting just slightly over yours on the table, her thumb tracing gentle patterns along your skin.

You glance between them and raise a brow. “What?” you say, laughing lightly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

George leans forward, voice low and sure. “Because we’ve been waiting all night to say something.”

Carmen straightens slightly, her fingers curling more securely around yours. “We didn’t want to rush. We didn’t want to make it a thing until we were sure you felt it too.”

You blink, heart stuttering. “Felt what?”

George takes a breath. “This. Us. Whatever this has been—between the stolen glances and competing to make you laugh and the way you make it feel like everything slows down when you walk into a room. We’ve talked about it, a lot. And we just—”

“—we like you,” Carmen finishes, eyes bright and unwavering. “Together. As… us. Not just one of us. Not competing. Just us.”

Your breath catches. They’re both so open. So sure. Carmen reaches across the table with her free hand, taking George’s. “We don’t want to confuse you or pressure you. But if there’s even a part of you that wants this too… we’d really like to be yours. If you’d be ours.”

There’s no big speech. No drama. Just honesty. Just two people you’ve somehow fallen into orbit with—who’ve made you laugh and blush and feel more seen than you’ve felt in a long, long time. You look at George. At Carmen. At the way they’re already sharing something so strong and steady between them—and yet still made room for you. Your voice is quiet, but sure.

“I do feel it. I’ve been feeling it since… Monaco, probably. And I didn’t know what to do with it. Because this felt impossible.” You laugh, breathless. “But now it feels kind of perfect.”

George exhales, smiling so wide it looks like relief. Carmen brings your hand to her lips and kisses your knuckles. “So… is that a yes?”

You nod, eyes glassy, voice thick with something you didn’t expect to feel tonight. “Yeah. It’s a yes.”

George stands first, pulling your chair out with one hand and helping you up with the other, his touch lingering, reverent. Carmen slips an arm around your waist, and George’s hand finds the small of your back as they guide you to the edge of the terrace. The city stretches out in front of you. The stars are closer now.

And when they lean in—first Carmen pressing her lips to your cheek, then George brushing his nose against yours before placing a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth—it doesn’t feel overwhelming. It feels like something beginning.

—

several weeks later…

Your birthday doesn’t feel like your birthday. There’s no cake, no chaos, no Alex yelling off-key from the other room while Lily throws glitter at your head. No extra- tight hugs from George. No light forehead kisses from Carmen. There’s just… work.

You’re in New York, stuck in meetings and content shoots for a brand launch you should be excited about. But the apartment they’ve put you in is cold in that expensive, too-white way. You’ve got cupcakes from a PR box and flowers from people you’ve never met, and your phone has dozens of “Happy Birthday!!!” texts that make your screen light up and still leave you feeling completely alone.

You curl up on the couch in your pajamas that night, bare-faced and tired, a blanket around your shoulders as the skyline blinks outside the window. You sent Alex a photo earlier—of your sad little cupcake and a candle that refused to stay lit—but he didn’t answer. Neither did Lily.

You figured Carmen and George would call. Maybe FaceTime you together and make you laugh until your stomach hurt. But it’s almost midnight, and all you’ve got is silence. Until— knock knock knock. You frown.

No one knows you’re here. Not the building. Not the brand team. Not even your manager. You rise slowly, wrapping the blanket around yourself tighter as you cross to the door. You peek through the peephole.

And immediately stumble back, because—

“OPEN THE DOOR,” someone whispers through the wood.

You fling it open. Alex is standing there in a ridiculous party hat, grinning, arms wide open.

“Surprise!” he shouts.

“WHAT—” you start, eyes wide, but then Lily appears from behind him, holding a tray of homemade cookies and a box with your actual baby photo printed on it.

And then Carmen steps out from behind them, looking criminally good in sweatpants and a crop top, holding a tote bag with confetti spilling out.

And George—George—pokes his head in last, holding a bouquet that’s bigger than his torso.

Your breath leaves your lungs in one big, stunned exhale. “You’re all—here?”

“Happy birthday, loser,” Alex says, pulling you into the biggest hug, practically lifting you off the ground.

Lily hugs you second, tighter, whispering, “You didn’t think we’d let you spend today alone, did you?”

You’re already crying when Carmen cups your face. “I know you said you were okay, but you didn’t sound okay. And we weren’t going to let this pass without showing up.”

George presses a kiss to your forehead as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Plus, I missed you. Also, I really needed an excuse to eat cake.”

They come inside like they’ve always belonged there. Alex sets up music from his phone while Lily lays out snacks from a suitcase like she packed an entire party. Carmen pulls a birthday crown from her bag and puts it directly on your head, and George pops open a bottle of something bubbly while asking, “Did we miss dinner, or are we ordering five pizzas?”

Within ten minutes, your apartment feels like home. There’s laughter bouncing off the walls, confetti in the air, candles finally staying lit, and the people you love most in the world—all here. For you. At one point, you’re sitting on the couch with Carmen curled into your side, George stretched out with his head on your lap, Lily painting Alex’s nails while he argues about color choices—and it hits you. This is everything.

Not the flowers from brands or the influencer trips or the shiny gifts you’ll probably forget about in a month. Just this. The people who show up. You smile through your happy tears, and Carmen tilts her head to look up at you.

“What are you thinking?” she asks softly.

“That I might cry again,” you admit, voice cracking.

George shifts to press a kiss to your knee. “Good. We were going for tears.”

Alex raises his bottle. “To YN. The best sister, the most chaotic human being, and now—officially—another year older.”

You all clink glasses. And in that moment, surrounded by love, laughter, and far too much frosting—you feel exactly how you should on your birthday. Not alone. Not forgotten. So, so loved.

—

The next morning, you’re woken by someone aggressively playing the Spider-Man 2 theme song through a portable speaker. You sit up in bed, bleary-eyed and half-asleep, only to find Alex standing in the middle of your apartment with a bagel in one hand and a foam Statue of Liberty crown already on his head.

“Rise and shine, birthday brat,” he declares. “It’s your New York day. And I am your guide.”

“You’ve been here once, Carmen says, sipping coffee in a silk robe from your kitchen. “And you got lost in Central Park.”

George walks in from the balcony, wearing sunglasses and holding a laminated tour map. “Ladies and gentlemen, the group itinerary.”

“Absolutely not,” you groan, pulling the covers over your face.

“Absolutely yes,” Lily says sweetly, throwing a pair of “I ❤️ NY” socks at your head. “You’ve been working nonstop. Today is pure chaos. We’re being annoying. We’re being tourists. We’re buying matching shirts.”

—

You start the day in Central Park because, apparently, Alex woke up with the unshakable conviction that ‘bike rides = wholesome bonding.’ He’s already at the rental kiosk when the rest of you catch up, dramatically arguing with the attendant about whether he can get one with a basket.

Carmen and George are dressed like they’re shooting a Vogue travel spread—she in oversized sunnies and a windbreaker you know she stole from George’s closet; he in perfectly tailored shorts and the exact amount of smug. You, in contrast, are in leggings and a hoodie with a coffee in one hand and a deep mistrust of physical activity in the other.

“Ready to race?” George asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

Lily raises an eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m above humiliation?”

She takes off like a shot before anyone can answer. George yells “CHEATER!” and tears after her, nearly taking out a toddler and an elderly pug in the process.

You and Carmen opt for the scenic route. You pedal slowly through tree-lined paths while she keeps one hand on the handlebars and the other on your arm whenever she wants to point something out. She tells you stories from her first visit to New York with her uni friends, and you tell her how surreal it feels to be here now, like this—with them.

Halfway through the ride, Alex crashes dramatically into a bush, claiming he was “distracted by nature.” You’re crying from laughing so hard, and George has the audacity to pull out his phone and snap a picture.

Carmen kisses your cheek at a stoplight and whispers, “This already feels like the best day.”

The next stop you begged them not to go. Alex insisted. George supported him purely out of chaos.

It’s exactly what you expected—overstimulating, overpacked, and full of things you don’t want to touch without washing your hands. Carmen wraps a scarf around your head like a disguise while Lily buys hot dogs that may or may not be edible.

Alex immediately takes photos with every off-brand costumed character: a saggy Elmo, a sun-faded Batman, a Hello Kitty with glowing red eyes. “It’s for culture,” he says. “You can’t fight me on this. I was born here spiritually.”

George, meanwhile, ends up cornered by someone selling knockoff sunglasses. He nearly buys three before Carmen drags him away by the collar.

You finally agree to take one touristy group selfie. It takes eight tries because Alex keeps blinking, Carmen keeps kissing your cheek, and George keeps trying to photobomb his own photo.

When you check your camera roll later, one of the blurry pics is your favorite—you, surrounded by all of them, laughing mid-moment, chaos frozen in time.

George announces this stop with the gravity of an F1 team principal revealing new car upgrades.

“There are three key stops. First, Joe’s. Second, Prince Street. Third, the little place in Brooklyn I won’t name because it’s my spot.”

You make it through the first location with only mild cheese-induced burns. George insists on rating every slice like it’s Michelin-tier, even writing notes in his phone. 

Lily walks past him and mutters, “You sound like a guy describing his ex.”

At the second stop, Alex tries to eat an entire slice in one bite and ends up with sauce in his nose. Carmen refuses to share hers. George offers you a bite of his, only to “accidentally” brush your nose with sauce so he can wipe it off with a napkin and an absurd amount of smugness. Carmen retaliates by handing you her last bite and dramatically saying, “Because I actually care about your well-being.” By the third stop, you’re full, a little greasy, and completely, blissfully happy.

 The next stop starts off tame. You wander the galleries, the lighting cool and soft, the mood respectful. It lasts ten minutes.

Alex reads the name of every piece in a fake posh accent. 

George gets stopped by a group of teen art students who ask if he’s that “guy from TikTok,” and he leans in with a totally serious, “Only if you don’t tell my team principal I’m here instead of doing sim work.”

Lily attempts to interpret a Jackson Pollock painting as “Alex’s emotional state after Quali,” and honestly? It fits.

Carmen lingers behind with you in the more abstract galleries. She slips her fingers between yours and murmurs, “I think you are more beautiful than any of this art.” 

You blink at her. “Are you flirting in a museum?”

She smirks. “Can’t help it. You look good under gallery lighting.”

You’re still blushing when a security guard walks by and clears his throat, clearly done with your group’s nonsense.

—

By the time you reach the bridge, the sun is low, painting the skyline in gold and rose and streaks of violet. Carmen hands you an iced drink she somehow smuggled from the last café. George is already halfway up the incline with Alex, both loudly arguing over “who’s more photogenic in silhouettes.”

You walk slower. Lily’s taking photos behind you, catching little moments—you laughing with Carmen, George adjusting your scarf because the wind caught it, Alex mid-jump trying to be “cinematic.”

It’s calm in that surreal, glowing way New York sometimes is. Carmen wraps an arm around you, chin on your shoulder. George loops his arm over both of yours from behind, resting his chin on Carmen.

“I want this forever,” he says softly.

You don’t say anything. You don’t have to. They feel your answer in the way your hand finds theirs, in the way your eyes shine in the light.

—

They sneak you upstairs, Carmen covering your eyes with her hands while George hums Happy Birthday off-key. When they pull their hands away, there’s cake, string lights, paper crowns, and a banner that definitely says “YN IS A MENACE” in Alex’s handwriting.

Lily cues up music. Alex opens champagne like he’s won a Grand Prix. George tries to light sparklers and nearly sets his sleeve on fire. Carmen gets frosting on her cheek and doesn’t wipe it off until you lean in and do it for her.

There’s dancing. Loud, stupid, no-one’s-watching dancing. There’s a slow song that none of you can name, but Carmen tugs you into a sway, and George wraps his arms around both of you.

They sing Happy Birthday again. Off-key. Too loud. Perfectly you. And later, much later, as you sit barefoot on the rooftop with your legs in Carmen’s lap and George tracing circles on your knee, you close your eyes and think— This is the best birthday you’ve ever had. Not because of the city or the food or the sights. Because of them. Your people. Your chaos. Your heart.

—

yn_albon

liked by alex_albon, lilymhe, carmenmmundt and 9,010,107 others.

yn_albon : best birthday ever because i spent it with all my favorite ppl 🩷 love you all so much.

tagged : georgerussell63, carmenmmundt, lilymhe and alex_albon

—

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lando : happy birthday yn!

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alex_albon : happiest of birthdays to my favorite menace! love you!

liked by yn_albon

lilymhe : love you my sweet girl! hope it was the best birthday ever❤️

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carmenmmundt : our pretty girl!! love you so much

liked by yn_albon

georgerussell63 : id say alex and i were very stellar tour guides 🤣 happy birthday beautiful! love you forever

liked by yn_albon

—

f1gossipgirls

3,012,002 likes.

f1gossipgirls : George Russell was caught kissing not longtime girlfriend Carmen Mundt, but her very close friend YN Albon—yes, Alex Albon’s sister and mega influencer. The steamy moment was snapped outside a SoHo café, and naturally, fans are spiraling. Last we checked, George and Carmen were still very much together—so is this a cheating scandal? An open relationship? Or something even messier? And before you say it—yes, Carmen was spotted in New York earlier this week. Yes, with YN. Yes, they were holding hands. No, we don’t know what’s going on either.

—

The photo is everywhere. You wake up to it—your phone vibrating endlessly on the nightstand, screen flooded with texts and notifications. It takes one swipe and a blurry blink to register what’s happening. Splashed across every F1 gossip account, tabloids, Twitter threads, Reddit forums already three theories deep. The angle is unforgiving—paparazzi-level candid, your hand curled into his hoodie, George smiling against your lips like you’re his entire world. Your stomach flips—not from guilt, but from the timing. Because the world doesn’t know the truth. Not yet. Not about you and George. Not about Carmen, either. You scroll down. The headlines are brutal.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until a FaceTime call blares across the screen. It’s Carmen. You freeze. Heart in your throat. She speaks before you can even say hello.

“Have you seen it?” she asks, voice low, hair still wet from her morning shower.

“Yeah,” you croak.

There’s a pause—heavy but not cold. Then she exhales, soft and steady. “George is already pacing the kitchen. He’s on his third coffee. I think he’s trying to rewrite time.”

You let out a small, surprised laugh. Then, more quietly, “Are you okay?”

She smiles gently. “I’m not mad, if that’s what you’re asking. Just tired of pretending. Tired of people thinking we’re lying, or worse—hurting each other.”

“I didn’t mean for it to—”

“I know,” she interrupts. “God, YN, it’s us. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Just…” She sighs. “Do you think it’s time?”

Before you can answer, George joins the call, sliding into frame with a frown that melts the second he sees you. He’s still in sweatpants, hair messy, worry written across every feature.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurts. “I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve checked who was around—”

“George,” Carmen cuts in gently. “We’re not mad. We’re just… tired of hiding.”

He nods slowly. “I didn’t like watching people call me a cheater when all I was doing was kissing someone I love.”

That word hangs in the air—love. You feel your chest tighten. Carmen notices. Of course she does.

“We all love each other,” she says quietly. “We’re in this together, yeah?”

You nod, throat thick. “Yeah. Together.”

“So we tell them?” George asks. “Everything? The three of us? No secrets, no damage control?”

Carmen looks at you. “Do you want this to be real in the open? Because I do. I want to hold your hand in the paddock. I want to stop pretending you’re just Alex’s little sister. I want people to know that you’re mine— ours.”

Your eyes sting. You don’t even hesitate. “I want that too.”

George exhales like he’s been holding the words in since the post dropped. “Okay. We do it. Together.”

He reaches for Carmen’s hand offscreen. Carmen looks straight into the camera and says, “Let’s write the truth before someone else tries to write it for us.”

You smile. And for the first time that morning, your hands stop shaking.

—

georgerussell63

liked by yn_albon, lilymhe, carmenmmundt and 7,010,001 others.

georgerussell63 : love looks a little different on us. but it’s real. and it’s ours. 💙

tagged : yn_albon and carmenmmundt

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[mikkies]

「 MOON, TELL ME IF I COULD SEND UP MY HEART TO YOU. 」

1x1x1x1 x GN! Reader

warnings: none!

notes: I'm running out of title ideas gng, to the point I'm turning to song lyrics as titles *cries*

THE NIGHT WAS unusually quiet. No crickets chirped, no wind rustled the trees; only the faint hum of your porch light kept you company as you stood on the back deck.

You had always loved the stillness of nights like this, but tonight, there was an unease in the air, as if the world held its breath.

That’s when you saw it.

A faint glow appeared in the night sky, growing larger with each passing second. It wasn’t a star or a plane; it moved with a strange, almost deliberate, descent.

Before you could even process what you were seeing, the object hurtled down, crashing into the woods behind your house with a deafening impact that shook the ground beneath your feet.

Your heart raced as you grabbed a flashlight and ventured into the woods, the beam cutting through the inky darkness.

The air was thick with an unnatural energy, and as you drew closer to the crash site, a faint, otherworldly glow lit your path.

Finally, you found it: a green domino crown, cracked and battered, lying amidst the scorched earth.

You hesitated, then carefully picked it up. The crown was warm to the touch, pulsating faintly with green light.

Despite its damage, it radiated an undeniable presence, as though it were alive.

You brought it home, placing it gently on your kitchen table, unsure of what to do next.

Days passed, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the crown was watching you.

It didn’t make sense, of course, but every time you entered the room, the air felt heavier, charged. One evening, as you sat with your head in your hands, wondering if you should call someone about your strange find, the crown began to glow more intensely.

Before your eyes, it shifted.

The air around it shimmered, and with a blinding flash, the crown reformed into a figure. You stumbled backward, heart pounding as the being collapsed onto your kitchen floor.

They were tall, their black cloak tattered and singed, their white ponytail spilling over their shoulder.

Chains draped over their form like broken ornaments, and their translucent green chest revealed a skeletal structure inside.

Black and green flames flickered weakly around their body, and in their hands, they clutched two daemonshank swords.

They stirred, red eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

Their gaze was sharp, wary. “Who are you?” they rasped, voice weak but laced with suspicion. “What have you done to me?”

You froze, holding your hands up in surrender. “I haven’t done anything. You… you crashed into the woods. I brought you here.”

Their expression darkened as they attempted to sit up, only to collapse back onto the floor. “Liar. No one helps out of kindness. What do you want from me?”

The accusation stung, but you kept your voice calm.

“You were hurt. I couldn’t just leave you there.”

Their red eyes narrowed, flicking over you with palpable distrust. “If you think I will owe you anything, you’re mistaken. I am not your charity case.”

You sighed, kneeling beside them cautiously. “Look, you don’t have to trust me. But you’re injured, and I’m the only one here who can help. So, let me.”

They turned their head away, their pride clearly battling their condition. Finally, with a reluctant nod, they muttered, “Fine. But don’t think this means anything.”

Over the next few weeks, caring for 1x1x1x1 was a challenge.

They accepted your help begrudgingly, often snapping at your efforts or questioning your motives. He would flinch when you came too close, her chains rattling faintly as though in warning.

Their black and green flames, once fierce, barely flickered now, but he still seemed to guard what little strength they had with a ferocity that was hard to ignore.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked one evening, their tone sharp as he watched you adjust a bandage around her arm. “What are you hoping to gain?”

You looked up, meeting their gaze. “I already told you. You needed help.”

They scoffed, his red eyes blazing. “No one does anything without an agenda. You humans are all the same—deceptive, selfish creatures.”

You frowned but didn’t rise to the bait. “Maybe you’re right about some people. But not everyone is like that.”

She stared at you for a long moment, their expression unreadable. Finally, he turned away, muttering, “We’ll see.”

As the days turned into weeks, 1x1x1x1 grew stronger, though their demeanor remained guarded.

Her flames burned a little brighter, their steps grew steadier, and the swords he had once wielded with ease began to hum faintly with power again.

Yet, despite their recovery, they kept their distance, his distrust never fully abating.

One night, as you sat together under the stars, she broke the silence. “I will leave soon.”

You nodded, trying to hide the pang of disappointment. “Where will you go?”

They didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on the sky. “I have battles to fight. Scores to settle. This… respite has been an inconvenience.”

You smiled faintly, leaning back against the porch rail.

“Glad I could inconvenience you, then.”

Her eyes flicked to you, softening slightly. “You are… unusual. Not like the others.”

“Is that a compliment?” you teased gently.

They didn’t respond, but a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was fleeting, but it was there.

“Will you come back?” you asked quietly.

She hesitated, their chains clinking softly as they shifted. “If I do… it will not be as your charity case.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Fair enough.”

And as he gazed back to the stars, for the first time, they didn’t seem quite so distant.

[himasgod]

hi hello how are you? uhm this is probably my first time requesting to you

but could I request on twst characters reacting to reader actually having wings but the reader actually hides it underneath their hair(like behind their ears iykyk) to not cause that much attention (because the last time they did it made a huge commotion and had to resist to not throw hands at everyone who keeps touching her wings-) and the boys ONLY noticed when a wind blows their hair aside to reveal it(you can change the way of revealing the wings since I have no idea-)

I don't mind how many you put in this, in fact everyone is fine! just please put Leona and riddle these boys hold a special place in my heart.

and btw pls take your time, I'll be waiting for you. tysm! 🫶

LEONA AND RIDDLE X READER

Where they discover you have wings behind your ears

I hope I understood correctly what you meant, something like this, right?

You were sitting under one of the flowering trees in the Botanical Garden, book in hand, half-lost in thought while Leona lazily lounged beside you.

It was supposed to be one of those rare peaceful moments between classes where he didn’t grumble about being awake. You always appreciated his quiet presence— even if most of it was spent napping.

You reached over to pluck a petal off his hair when the wind picked up suddenly, a gust brushing your long hair to the side.

You didn’t realize anything had happened — not until you noticed Leona had cracked open one eye.

No, not cracked open.

He was staring.

Not in his usual cocky way — but focused.

“...Huh,” he muttered, sitting up just enough to get a better look.

“You’ve been hiding those this whole time?”

“Wha—?” You reached up instinctively and felt the soft edges of your wings, peeking out right behind your ears. You cursed under your breath, immediately trying to fix your hair to cover them again. Leona grabbed your wrist.

“Why hide them?”

You glanced away, ears burning.

“Because the last time people saw them, they wouldn’t leave me alone. Touching, whispering, some wanted to pluck a feather like a souvenir. I don’t need that again.”

Leona’s emerald eyes narrowed.

“People are idiots,” he muttered.

“Touching you without permission... you should’ve let me deal with them.”

“You’re not... weirded out?”

Leona gave a exhale, almost like a laugh.

“You’re at a school full of beastmen, fae, ghosts, and literal magic. Wings are the least strange thing I’ve seen. Still… it suits you.”

“What does?”

He smirked, looking at you through half-lidded eyes.

“That skyborn look. Like you’re from somewhere higher than the rest of us. Regal.”

You gave him a long look.

“…Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe.” He leaned back down, arms crossed behind his head.

“If people try touching you again, just say the word. I don’t mind throwing hands.”

You were standing beside Riddle, helping with the attendance sheet and budget files, when a gust of wind whooshed through the hall.

Your hair lifted — just enough.

Just barely enough to reveal something delicate fluttering behind your ears. Feathers. Soft, unmistakably wings.

Riddle turned, eyes wide.

“Yuu,” he said lowly, tugging you aside, away from the rest of the group. “Your hair—behind your ears—those… Are those wings?”

You froze.

“…Please don’t make a scene,” you whispered, glancing around. “They’re real. I hide them for a reason.”

“A reason?”

“The last time people found out, they treated me like a pet. Asking questions, touching me, even trying to name them like I was some exotic showpiece. It was humiliating.”

Riddle’s eyes softened with immediate understanding— perhaps even guilt. You expected scolding, or questions. But what you didn’t expect was how gently he stepped in front of you and said, quietly:

“You don’t need to explain yourself, but… if anyone treats you like that again, tell me.”

“Would you collar them?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

He gave a small exhale— a mix of a sigh and a laugh.

“Only if they touch without asking. That's grounds for decapitation by Queen of Hearts rules.”

You smiled despite yours. “Riddle—”

“I mean it,you don’t need to hide what makes you different. But if you choose to, I’ll respect that. Just... don’t shut me out.”

You paused, then nodded.

“Thanks. For not freaking out.”

He adjusted his collar, trying (and failing) to look composed.

“I’m allowed one freakout. But only because I think… you're beautiful.”

You blinked.

“...The wings. I mean! The wings—!”

“Right,” you teased, “just the wings.”

[cursethedarkness]

The CROW Dream

Of Course, this is an actual true story of my nice suburban childhood, and not something I saw in that “Big Fish” movie……

Growing up in Los Angeles, I always knew that there was a world of VooDoo and magic, just below the antiseptic surface of the city. Interesting, magical events surely took place, even if I was too blind to see them.

But then one night, when I was maybe 12 or so, a Crow came to me in my dream, and spoke: "Your Auntie Matilda (who was known as “Teal” or “M’Teal”) is going to heaven before the sun hits noon tomorrow."

Frightened, I ran to my folks, who laughed and said don't worry, it's just a scary dream. I tried not to be afraid, but the next morning, Auntie Matilda did have a massive heart attack and fall dead in her tracks.

You can imagine how upset I was, both with the dream and with losing my dear Auntie.

Time went on, and it came to pass that six months later, the Crow again came into my dream -- this time the Crow said "Your father will die tomorrow between the rising of the sun and when the clock strikes Noon”.

Beside myself, I told my folks what the Crow had told me. They shook their heads, and told me once again "its just a dream, don't worry", your Aunt Matilda was just a coincidence. But I could see they were plenty worried, after Auntie Matilda dying and all.

All morning the next day Dad was under a cloud of worry. At noon, he finally came into the kitchen, wiped his face, kissed mom and I, and said "It's been a horrible morning".

Mom said "Honey, my mornin’ was far, far worse."

"How could that be?" Dad asked.

Mom said : “Right at 11:30, your best friend dropped dead on our porch.”

My grandma’s on and off again boyfriend that she cheated on grandpa with died today.

[lvl109]

oh captain, my captain ✶ caleb xia

summary.ᐟ fem reader. wc: 6569. ( ?! ) belated birthday smut because the caleb demons were perched on my shoulders for almost three weeks. half plot half porn because here goes yappatron 3000.

teddy says.ᐟ this was originally supposed to be under 2k words, lmfao. i haven't written smut in a hot minute and didn't know how to end it so show grace. big big linkon sized thank u to my local caleb girlie @neigepomme for answering my silly characterization questions. i told u i was gonna site u as a source and i meant it. surrendering myself as a member of #applegirlnation now bc wdym this started as a joke. there is absolutely nothing funny about six thousand words for a man. sobbing hysterically what is this life. + idk who started writing mc as 'emcee' in fics but i thought it was cute so i used it too. :)

“avoiding the question isn't going to make me stop asking, you know.”

you've been at this for almost two hours now. following him around your apartment with narrowed eyes as he whistled cheerfully and avoided your budding frustration. the shared space is warm with the afterglow of a shared meal and lighthearted conversation. 

or at least, lighthearted until he started ducking your questions.

“i don't know what you're talking about.” his grin is easygoing when he turns to you, blinking innocently as your stare turns into one of comical disbelief. “i did answer your question.”

“answering a question with another question is not an answer—!”

caleb only smiles sheepishly in response. you swear—if not for the fact that he looked cute when he smiled, you'd punch him for his cheeky behavior.

“ow—okay, okay, i'm sorry!”

arms crossed in petulant expectation, you watch as he sighs dramatically and sags into the couch. his head leans back against the plush material, closing his eyes briefly before another smile, this time a bit resigned, crosses his lips.

“i meant it when i said what is there to ask for?, you know.” when his eyes open, his gaze is soft. “i've got everything i could ever ask for, and then some. the two most important people in my life are safe and cared for. i don't really need anything else.”

your expression immediately softens. you knew how selfless your boyfriend could be. it was practically hardwired into his brain to be someone of use to the people he cherished close to his heart. hearing what he and emcee went through from childhood was enough to make anyone give up several times over—and here he was choosing to use himself as a pillar to uplift her at the cost himself over and over again. selflessness seemed to be coded within him.

so when she was able to branch out and fall in love… it had made him wary. the two of them had been practically conjoined by the hip. it made sense he wouldn't have warmed up to the idea immediately. the two of you had actually met that way—an embarrassing moment in time that ended with dropped papers, several spilled coffees, and emcee and her hunter-partner-turned-boyfriend xavier staring at the both of you with varying degrees of concern and amusement.

(‘your first meet was cute!’ is what she always says when you recall the memory with a little bit of embarrassment. the only cute (and hilarious) part was how close caleb looked to exploding out of sheer despair.)

now coming on a year of dating, you'd like to think you know your boyfriend well enough. turns out caleb will never stop surprising you with soft and tender moments of sincerity. and with the way he looks at you when you fall silent, you nearly forget why you're even badgering him in the first place.

shifting over to kneel on the couch beside him, you take his face in your hands and gently brush the pad of your thumb against his cheek. he leans into the feeling as if starved, his eyes fluttering shut once more. long lashes settle over faintly freckled cheeks in a silent show of letting his walls down and bearing his weak side to you. and you appreciate it. you always will.

too bad it still wasn't an answer.

“caleb xia,” you murmur softly, the words hushed in the space between you both. his answering hum is just as light and a kiss is pressed to your fingertips. “i love you dearly, but if you don't answer me, i’m using your hard earned money to buy a robot to do our laundry.”

his eyes fly open immediately. shock, surprise, and—funnily enough—a hint of betrayal shine through his widened gaze. they then narrow as if to gauge how serious you were about a useless technological upgrade before ultimately sighing in defeat.

point to you. (emcee really wasn't lying about his aversion to robots.)

“i really just want to spend time with you,” he concedes, shaking his head when you narrow your eyes at his words. “is that a good enough answer? pips and co. are on an important mission that week, and i'm not going to ask her to cancel for me—”

you nod in agreement. as sad as it was, it was reasonable. sometimes plans couldn't be worked around.

“—even though i could, but—”

caleb makes an exaggerated punted sound when you shove his shoulder, his hands raising in mock surrender. “i won't. not because she won't let me, but because she'll make me see true hell if she finds out i'm the reason behind it.”

your exasperated expression makes him smile, leaning forward to caress your cheek. “so really. i don't want much. as long as you're here and she's safe, then i’m happy. so don't don't stress yourself out about it, okay?”

he pinches your cheek, already knowing you'd swat his hand away for it, intercepting and lacing your hands together. your heart flutters a bit.

“this isn't over,” you grumble, trying your best to stay mad at him. though with how bright his eyes shone when he looked at you, it was a difficult task to maintain. “watch your back.”

“aye, captain.”

you stress yourself out about it. naturally, of course.

could anyone blame you? you wanted his birthday to be perfect. it's the least you could do right by him, someone who refused your help mostly because he was stubborn, but mostly because he didn't want to feel like a burden. 

but you had plans. and you would see them through.

you ask him to meet you near the fleet’s landing pad a few hours in advance, wanting to surprise him right after work, complete with vague responses to his confused but otherwise curious inquiries. the sound of your shoes are muffled against the flooring. as you make your way into the headquarters, a little robot flits around your head in greeting.

“welcome to the farspace fleet’s headquarters, miss.”

once you finish signing in, you quickly make your way to the designated meeting spot. confused stares and murmurs waft over your head as you pass his fellow pilots and staff members alike, but you pay them no mind. you were only here for one person and one person alone–the very same who happened to have his back towards you, engrossed in a game on a small holographic screen. fondness coloring your expression for a few seconds, you quickly change it before clearing your throat.

“does the colonel usually spend his hours playing mini games all day? maybe you get a pass for today. it’s very special, after all.”

with the cold press of a drink against his cheek, caleb startles slightly before whirling around at the sound of your voice, the hologram swiped away with a quick movement of his hand. briefly surprised, his expression morphs into one of mirth, rubbing at his cheek where the soda previously touched skin.

“so that’s your first birthday surprise for me?” a scoff pairs itself with a teasing eye roll. “thank…”

his gaze drops lower, holding you at arms length, and his words trail off. your smile falters a bit nervously.

the outfit you were wearing wasn’t just any outfit. black boots, a collared shirt tucked into black pants, and a jacket bearing the insignia of the farspace fleet’s logo on its slightly padded shoulder revealed you dressed in a similar fashion to the man standing before you, even to the hat nestled comfortably atop your head. it had taken you a while to even round up most of the items you were wearing, down to the gloves that adorned your hands.

because every colonel needed their lieutenant, right?

caleb sputters out something akin to a laugh, frayed around the edges with disbelief. “where’d you even…”

“i had some help.” your voice trembles a bit, clearing your throat before grinning sheepishly. “not saying who. but, um. i wanted to get to know your world, too. so i hope this is okay.”

his prolonged silence makes you increasingly nervous. his expression is a bit unreadable underneath the brim of his hat, and the more he stares, the more you fidget. until he opens his mouth again.

“i don't like how everyone else is looking at you.”

the words make you freeze, watching in real time as the weight of his gaze intensifies. it's then do you tune in the rest of your surroundings again, hearing faint murmurs and parts of conversation. your eyes meet. his hands travel from your shoulders to take your hands in his.

“caleb—” you sputter out in disbelief, similar to his earlier reaction as a laugh lodges itself somewhere in your throat. of all things to say—

“you want to be second in command? you look the part, lieutenant.” for a brief moment a hint of amusement glints in his eyes. approval. a small shiver runs down your back. “doesn't mean i like people looking at what's mine.”

you blink and he's on your left, the palm of his right hand at your lower back warm even through your clothes. “you know i don't like to bring work home,” he drawls lowly as he begins to walk, causing you to walk as well. “seems home came to me instead. how do you figure.”

you peek at him as you approach his private plane. he looks so pleased. this is going far better than you thought it would, making you exhale quietly in relief.

“can't believe you're gonna make me fly on my birthday, though.” 

caleb pouts a bit as he leans into your space, adding on, “was looking forward getting home and burying my face between your —”

onlookers titter as you smack the farspace fleet’s colonel’s arm in shocked dismay with him grinning as he lets you. 

dinner in the skies wasn't an easy feat to plan. but with a boyfriend who loved you enough to go with your odd directions, after two hours of jetting over the skies of skyhaven, picking up orders from your favorite spots, and gaining access to an airborne movie theater, the private jet was nestled comfortably in the air.

“cruising altitude?”

“somethin’ comfortable,” caleb’s voice pipes up from the front of the plane.

“coordinates?”

“positioned exactly where you asked, baby.”

you look out of a window and come face to face with a beautiful sunset. yellow and orange bleed into pinks, blues, and sharp violets reminiscent of your lover’s eyes. the thought warms your heart with enough heat to rival the lowering sun.

arms encircle your waist from behind when you straighten up, squeezing gently before a weight presses himself against your back. his chin hooks over your shoulder like he'd always meant to be there. 

“if i'm looking through the window and you're here, who's flying the plane?” you tease lightly, but make no effort to remove his arms. 

something around the lines of autopilot is muffled into your collar. looking through the reflection in the glass, you can just make out the sight of caleb with his eyes closed in momentary bliss.

“did you like the movie?” you ask softly. “i had some help with that, too. she sends her birthday wishes and her present is waiting for you at home.”

caleb squeezes you a bit tighter, nosing along the line of your shoulder before his eyes flutter shut. “you didn't have to do this all this for me,” he mumbles just as quietly. his brows furrow as an unreadable expression crosses his face. “but i love it. love you. thank you, baby.”

your own eyes flutter shut briefly when he kisses your cheek in thanks, the gesture sweet and loving. but his kisses move from your cheek to your jawline as his hands slowly begin to wander, a gasp leaving your throat when he gently tugs your tie loose to move your collar out of the way.

“can't believe you played dress up for my birthday. aren't i lucky?” your collar finally loosens enough for him to kiss right where your neck and shoulder meet, smiling against your skin when you shiver. “tell me who helped you put it together so i can fire them for insubordination.”

“wha—why?” you can barely think as his hands run through the buttons of your collared shirt, your jacket discarded somewhere on the aircraft. “don't fire anyone, shit—”

“it's my birthday.” his voice lowers with toying calmness to it as hands find skin, making you hiss upon contact. “i can wish for whatever i want for the next few hours. and the colonel,”

his lips brush just shy of your ear, nearly tipping the hat off your head. “wants his second in command out of her clothes. can she do that f’me?”

was the sky blue?

you don't remember how the two of you got home that night, let alone how caleb managed to land the plane without crashing into one of the city's many towering skyscrapers. all you can feel right now is the cold surface of the door through your shirt’s thin material before caleb surges forward to kiss you like he'd die if he spent another second away from you.

“you have no idea how much i wanted to rip this thing off you when i first saw it.” 

a hoarse laugh rips from his throat the second he pulls away from your lips, trembling hands sliding down the outline of your body. his gaze is reverent. hungry. you feel pinned to the surface and he's barely even touched you.

“really?”

“got hard immediately. that's why we left so soon.” and despite the heat between the both of you, he still makes you laugh, giggling as you push at his chest a bit. “what? honesty is the best policy ‘n all that.”

your tie comes off first, finally. the buttons you'd hastingly redone after just barely keeping his hands off of you aboard the plane fly off in different directions next as his frustrations build up. and when the material pools at your arms, he freezes again.

you duck your head shyly, the brim of your hat casting a shadow over your face. “surprise…”

black lace comes into view, sprawling over your chest and barely peeking underneath your pants. caleb stares.

“just one surprise after another.” he exhales through his nose, a gloved hand settling on your bare waist. “the perfect gift that keeps on giving. look at you.”

you can't discern whether or not he looks tormented from self preservation or the last fraying nerve desperately trying to hold itself together for his sanity’s sake. but the moment you shrug your shirt off and take a daring step forward into his space, you watch in real time as the last thread of his patience snaps in two.

with barely a grunt in sound, the floor gives as caleb hauls you over his shoulder to march towards your bedroom. pieces of your uniform lay discarded to form a path straight towards the plush mattress where caleb lays you down gently—but his eyes are anything but. darkened violet betrays the intense amount of arousal surely swirling through his head as he gets down on his knees before you.

“ah—wait, caleb—” your voice is already shot as he spreads your legs open, his nose brushing against the flimsy lace barely covering anything in between. his lips begin to part before he registers the calling of his name, his eyes flicking upwards. “i f-forgot to show you the cake–nghh—”

he licks a bold stripe against your covered core right as the last of your words tumble out of your mouth, large hands pressing your legs open as they begin to tremble. the sudden heat makes you flinch, reaching out to push at his shoulders with shaking fingers.

“you don't wanna eat the cake first—? we can—”

a faint snap! against your skin makes you jump, looking down to see his fingers toying with the band of your underwear. warmth spreads like fire across the surface of your skin. 

“can i take these off?”

huh? “caleb, the cake—”

“can i take these off?” he repeats slowly, his gaze dropping back down. “we’ll get to the cake later. wanna finish unwrapping my present.”

you lamely let your hand drop back to your side, nodding after a moment. “okay,” you mumble. “you… you can take them off.”

you lift your legs in preparation, fully expecting them to be slid down and tossed somewhere behind them. but a loud rip echoes in the room instead, and before you can even register what he'd done, his mouth finds your clit and latches on brazenly.

your trembling arms finally give out as you keen in surprise. the only thing preventing your thighs from framing his head is the strong grip keeping them apart. the mattress is soft against your back as your hands find purchase in the sheets and tug. small whimpers and moans leave your lips but it's nothing in comparison to how debauched he sounds. labored breathing and low moans paired with the growing wetness of his mouth against your most sensitive parts. 

you look down when a sharp feeling in your lower stomach begins to coil tightly, tears budding in the corner of your eyes as you part your lips to tell him such. but the sight you're met with sends yet another wave of heat down your back.

his face flushed red, his brows furrowed above eyes fluttered shut. the tips of his ears are bright red, and you know if you brush your fingers along the outer part, they'd be warm to the touch. what makes your heart stutter in your chest however, is the begging. and you barely even hear it at first.

“please… please, mmnnf please—” words slurred together between your legs, unintelligible and rushed. he tugs you further against his mouth, unwilling to let you go. all you hear is wet. “cum on m’face. please? pretty please? f’me?”

heat coils tighter and tighter until it becomes unbearable. your hands move from the rumpled sheets to his shoulder, momentary loss of mind making him forget to take his jacket off, but his shoulders don't budge against the sudden onslaught your hands bring. your voice pitches higher and higher, scrambling to grasp anything to hold until they push his hat off to find purchase in his hair and tug.

his answering moan, loud and unashamed, is your undoing. your orgasm crashing into you with the speed on a freight train, your back bowing taut and off the bed as your voice cracks on the near yell you let out. and caleb is unrelenting, slick sounds of him taking in every last drop of your essence dripping down your thighs and running down his chin. 

“that's it,” he breathes out, eyeing the way your thighs tremble as your hole clenches around nothing. without much hesitation, he licks another bold path on your thigh, grinning when you shriek in surprise. “what a sight for sore eyes. think you can sit on my face?”

you can barely lift your head up to stare at him in disbelief, your chest heaving as the toll of your orgasm rushes to your head. he blinks back almost innocently, his cheek pressed against your inner thigh. “pretty please?”

your head drops back down to the sheets. “you'll have to move me,” you say weakly. “i'm out of commission.”

his laugh is low in sound and it makes you shiver. he presses a kiss to your hip bone and immediately gets to work. mouth still wet, he pulls his gloves off with his teeth before gently maneuvering you to a dry spot before hauling himself atop the sheets as well. it takes a moment, limbs reduced to jelly, but before long your thighs frame his face once again.

you watch in real time as his gaze darkens at the angle change, his hands smoothing down your hips. “will never get tired of you looking at you,” he murmurs, turning his head to press a kiss to your knee. your body trembles in response, hands gripping at the headboard. “prettiest thing i've ever seen.”

“preparing for landing,” your voice cracks on the joke. caleb smiles, his thumbs smoothing shapes crossed your skin. up and down, almost v-shaped.

hearts. he was drawing hearts on your skin. your lower lip trembles when you realize.

oh how he loved you.

“least now i know you were really paying attention when i was talking.” his smile turns a bit sharp. hungry again. “land her on me. c’mon.”

slowly, with encouraging words and guiding hands, you lower yourself above his mouth. he releases a breath into the silence chalked tense with arousal once more. you look down to see his vision go hazy with want. and then he inhales sharply.

the sound makes you jolt, mortified at his sudden action, and before you can even choke out the first syllable of his name, he yanks your hips the rest of the way down. his tongue immediately gets to work swirling pointed circles around your clit, the pleasure skyrocketing high enough for you to immediately forget what you were about to say.

the first word you manage to blurt out is a curse, rolling your hips forward to chase the high you so desperately wanted now that shame had been discarded once again. “f-fuck—caleb, caleb—”

his nose catches on your clit and you scream, gripping the headboard so hard it hurts. he shows no sign of relenting, not even when your second orgasm ripples through your body. all he does is moan, the sound grateful.

two orgasms in less than ten minutes. at this rate, you'd be dead weight come morning.

trying to give his neck reprieve, you slowly begin to lift yourself up, clinging to the headboard. caleb immediately begins to complain, panting through slurred words. “where’re you goin’? ‘m not finished… ‘m not—fuck, come back? please?”

he blinks rapidly, adjusting back to the dim lighting. his hair is tugged in all sorts of directions from your frenzied grip, his face wet from the nose down and flushed red down to his neck. yet his brows remained furrowed with determination.

his hands reach for your hips again, gently trying to coax you back down. “i'll make you feel real good, y’know that right? prettiest present i've ever gotten. perfect… she's perfect, you're perfect, and you're all mine…”

you bite your lower lip, shifting above him. it draws his attention like a magnet and you let out another mortified sound, opting to move and sit on his lap instead.

big mistake.

caleb lets out a sharp hiss the moment you do, immediately tightening his grip on your waist. “don't move.” you take in his increasingly reddened appearance and pause, two things suddenly dawning on you.

one, caleb was still dressed. and two, the hard mass currently twitching underneath you was the reason why he'd tensed so quickly after you'd sat down. you rock your hips experimentally and get a slew of curses in response.

“or do,” he manages to wheeze out. he lowers his head for a moment. “jesus. don't wanna cum anywhere but inside of you, so if you would be so kind—”

your hips buck up once again and he whines. “you're playing dirty,” caleb hissed lowly, his expression pinched. it spurs you to action.

“can i let you in on a secret?” 

caleb eyes you with equal parts interest and weariness as the palms of your hands rest on his shoulders. “i've always thought you looked good in uniform,” you admit sheepishly, smiling faintly when he lets out a snort. “i’m serious! it's… i don't know. whatever they say about men in uniform.”

“that's real cute of you,” he drawls slowly, leaning back to look at all of you. “considering you're leaking all over it.”

the two of you look down to see a dark patch between your legs right where the outline of him is more than visible. the sight only heightens the arousal between the two of you, and that's when he decidedly has enough.

“here's what's going to happen.” 

he pats your side for you to lift your hips, groaning at the sight of slick sticking to the fabric. pearly whites sinking into his lower lip, the sound of his belt unbuckling masks the sound of your mingled breaths as his hand tugs and pulls at the material with budding annoyance.

“let me help.” your hands settle over his, tugging the leather out of the loop. the sound of his zipper is loud. his chest rises and falls the more your hands graze where he needs relief the most. “okay?”

“mhm.” his brows pinch together again, half-lidded gaze trained on your hands. “okay. okay. haah—just—mmnplease, take it out.” 

his rigid posture screams hurry. you slide your hand between skin and soft cotton and his head thunks against the headboard.

“caleb?!”

groaning, his hips buck into your hand. “‘m fine,” he sniffles, letting out a breath. “no, ‘m not. i dunno. can i fuck you already?”

you blink at him, taken aback as you sputter out, “are you concussed —?” your hand moves to pull out of his pants and he lets out a sound akin to a kicked puppy. “sorry—but that sounded pretty bad, i should look at—”

you're yanked back down, seated right on top of his cock again. it makes him curse once more. “can i make one last wish?” he doesn't wait for you to nod. “i'll let you in on a secret of my own. i've been dreaming about fucking you until either one of us cried.”

now you gape at him. he stares right back.

“with you on top, like this.” his breathing picks up, getting off on his own words. “ridin’ me. like you owned me. you do. you do. think about it all the time. and…”

he pats around for a moment, shushing your sound of confusion. his arms lift above your head and something a little bigger than form fitting settles on your head. when he pulls back, you swear his cock twitches a mile underneath you.

“yeah. yeah—even better than i imagined. fuck me.” 

he straightens the brim, tilting your head towards him. “my last wish,” he murmurs, “is watching you take my cock while wearin’ this. any objections, captain?”

oh.

a weird sense of exhilaration flows through you at his sudden address, emboldened by the slightest shift in power dynamic. your hand travels further into his pants, your grip unforgiving as his head falls back in faint relief. “no objections. but i do have one request.”

“ye–aah, baby?” breathless, he forces himself to watch through gritted teeth as you finally free his cock, letting out a sigh of relief. “what is it? what?”

“just something i wanted confirmation on from earlier.” your hand wraps around the girth of him, causing him to shudder. “i just think it's so interesting how much you know about planes. it's cute. but i don't remember if it was the f-22 or f-15 that was the fastest…”

you can tell he really wants to answer. but right as he opens his mouth, your grip tightens before slowly beginning to apply pressure as you stroke. caleb chokes, hips bucking up into your hand.

“it's the-the 15,” he answers quickly, groaning lowly. “it's b-built for mach 2.5 speed and—ohh fuck—designed for co–oh god, go faster, please.”

you stop instead and he flinches. “wha—no, nononono, c’mon—”

“designed for what? you didn't finish.”

caleb looks like he's about to burst, silently weighing his options before clearing his throat. “...designed primarily for air-to-air combat.”

“good to know.” the soft smile you give him gets you a weak one in return. “what else?”

his smile falls. your hand squeezes around him once more and he emits a broken sound. “fuck, okay, okay. c-compared to the f-22, which was designed for—shit, f-for stealth over aerodynamics and flies at—at mach 2.25 speed.”

his hips begin shifting again, chasing the warm heat of your palm, beginning to ramble and trip over his own words. “they both can, mnngh reach altitudes of over 60,000 feet or more making th-them perfect options for important operations. fuckfuckfuck—but they're not used for just combat, they can be used for training, search and rescue, and—god, that's so good.”

your fist is covered in precum, making it easier to slide over his cock at an increasing speed that makes him tremble. his mouth opens and closes over butchered attempts at words, face as red as his angry tip. 

“such a mess. not the only one leaking over your uniform anymore, right?”

“wanna cum.” he blurts out, his grips in the sheets white knuckled. “b-but inside. please? wanna fuck you so bad pleasepleaseee i—”

he groans when your fist works even faster, weak hands pushing at your own. “baby–baby no, fuck, inside—insi—oh fuck—”

caleb makes a sound between a disbelieving laugh and a moan as he resigns himself to your whims, chin dropping to his chest as his hips stutter once, twice, three times before coating your hand opaque white. stuttered breaths fill the air before an idea pops into your head.

you bring your stained hand up to his mouth. he blinks at first, surprise adding to the red flushing his face, but after a moment he leans forward to lick out of your hand painted white. desire strikes hot and heavy in your stomach as you maintain heavy eye contact, his tongue swirling over each individual finger. it doesn't take much for him to get hard again.

“did i pass?” he releases a breath, staring at the way your hips shift above him. “wanna be inside you now. you can keep quizzing me later. please.”

his eagerness spurs you into movement, letting out a small laugh of your own when his evol lifts you in the air as he searches for a condom. “been dreamin' about this for months and it's finally happening—you don't get to make fun of me if i cum in like three seconds when it's in all the way.”

your laughter grows in volume when you settle in his lap again, subject to his sudden onslaught of kisses. his nose bumps against yours in a silent moment of sweetness. his awkwardness with the condom eases your nerves a little bit, clumsily helping him stretch the latex over his cock. 

“would never.” your hand pushes his chest so his back is flat against the sheets, straightening up on your knees and using your free hand to position him right against your heat. “we take care of each other. it's okay if you do.”

caleb takes the hand placed near his heart and presses a kiss to your palm. an unspoken thank you resonates through the gentle action.

“ready?” he breathes out, his gaze trained on your face. “i know i've been… needy—”

“understatement.” the teasing lilt to your voice earns you a pinch to your side. it makes you bat at his hand with a grin, “sorry, continue.”

“but, if you want to back out, i don't mind going down on you again and we can do this another time. at the expense of heroically suffering through blue balls for however long it takes.”

you roll your eyes fondly, squeezing his hand. “you're very sweet, but i intend on fulfilling your birthday wish. besides… i want this, too.”

your hips lower as if to prove your point, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance before pushing in. caleb’s immediate moan makes you clench around him, his hands flying to your hips to help guide you down.

“all of it,” he murmurs as if entranced by the sight of you taking him in, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your skin. “takin’ me so well already.”

you don't expect to feel so full the more you slowly skin down, breathing through the stretch. whimpers fall from your lips without warning, biting your lower lip when he shifts his hips and you slip down even further. his praise is nonstop the entire time, more ramble than coherent words.

“feels so good around me. so pretty on top of me, yeah? doin’ so well, you're almost there. and then it'll feel so much better, okay?”

“caleb—”

“i know.” his voice is sweet. cooing, almost. “i know, baby. it's taking all me not to go all the way in just like that. but you can take it. i know you can. right?”

your head is nodding before you can even register his words, wiggling your hips before sliding down a bit more. “yeah. mhm—so big. can feel it in—”

you slide all the way down when he squeezes your hips, letting out a surprised squeak. ass flush against his thighs, caleb’s voice drops an octave lower when your walls flutter around him sporadically.

“see? you're—shit—doing so well. took it all just like you said you would. fuck.” his pupils dilate at the sight, sighing with pleasure as one hand moves to press against your stomach, long fingers spreading across your skin. “can feel me right… here.”

and as if a switch turns on in your brain, you begin to move in slow circles, breath catching at the fleeting sparks of pleasure. his hands settle on your hips to hold, fully letting you take control of both of your pleasures. with every sound you pull from him, every moan and sharp exhale of your name, your moves begin to grow bolder, walls clenching at each time you land back down in his lap.

“feels so good.” you pant lowly, the sound of skin slowly beginning to fill the room. the drag of his cock hitting deep inside you elicits a sweet sound from your throat that has him responding with a needier one of his own. “do you—does it feel—ohmygod—”

the sound between your legs is near sinful, wet squelches from the slippery glide turning easier the more you lift your hips. and all caleb can do is watch in awe as your head falls back with pleasure before you can even finish your sentence, committing the sight to memory as he begins to ramble once more.

“i'm the luckiest man to ever—ever walk the planet.” he begins to rub frantic circles on your clit, stuttering when you cry out and squeeze around his cock. “gettin’ to s-see this, to see you like this. fuck, thank you, thank you—take it, take it, it's yours. ‘m yours, always have been—”

unable to help himself, his hips start to meet your own in mindless thrusts, making you jolt and look down in surprise. “caleb—? ca—ahh, wait—”

his entire body trembles from the intense pleasure, his thrusts speeding up now that he's gotten to feel you. “can't—i can't, ‘m sorry, you're squeezin’ me so tight, feels like i can't breathe. gotta move, ‘msorrysosorry, angel—”

his hips slam against yours, wet and sticky with sweet and slick, his thumb still pressed firmly against your clit. the pressure makes you squeeze and flutter around him, drawing out more and more moans from your chest.

“your voice is so pretty, did you know? keep—fucking—singing for me. want everyone to know how good you're taking me.”

your entire body flushes with heat, skin prickling at his vulgar expression. but your body responds with short bursts of sounds pulled from your throat despite your best efforts, jolted whines and gasps filling the air. as a familiar heat coils in your stomach again, caleb’s thrusts also get sloppier.

“you're almost there—can feel it. sucking me in even more.” he sucks in a breath, brows furrowed slightly. “could stay buried in this pussy forever. and you'd let me, right? let me fuck load after load inside you, painting the prettiest picutre of you covered in my cum. full of me, about to burst. maybe even—maybe—”

your head lolls to one side, eyes half lidded as the brunt of caleb’s pussy drunk babbling and fantasies hit you full force. he'd made sure to use a condom before he fucked you, but the thought that maybe he… maybe one day, you'd let him fuck you raw. to really feel him inside of you without the protective barrier of latex. the thought makes your hips jerk, hands scrambling for anything to hold on to as the pleasure heightens.

caleb surges up to claim your lips in a bruising kiss, teeth clashing as your nails dig into his shoulders. his lips travel to your neck, the scrape of teeth causing the both of you to groan in unison. the sharp feeling of pain and pleasure mix into something indescribable, both of you hurtling towards a shared high.

“i love you,” he pants against your shoulder before whimpering low in his throat. “love you so much. best birthday ever. could die right now as the ha—ahh—ppiest i've ever been. ‘m gonna give it to you right now. say you love me and i'll let you cum.”

your lips part around a whine almost immediately. “i love you, i love you, pleasepleaseplease, caleb—!”

“sound so pretty when you say my name.” he presses a kiss to your jaw, nosing into your neck as his thumb doesn't let up on your clit. “go ahead and cum right… now.”

the pleasure is instantaneous. the coil snaps and heat rushes to your abdomen as your voice cracks on a hoarse moan, creaming all over his cock. your nails dig into his back, tears budding in the corner of your eyes as your orgasm rocks your entire body. 

caleb isn't too far behind, spurred on by the sharp tug of his hair when he nips at your shoulder. a sharp gasp is all you get in warning before he pulses inside of you, shuddering apart in your arms before he sags against your shoulder with a weak groan. 

closing your eyes to savor the haze post orgasm, you run your fingers through sweat slicked hair and press kisses to his forehead as he shivers and anchors your hips down.

“sensitive.” he mumbles against your shoulder. “don't move.”

“least you didn't cum early.” caleb lets out a low groan and you laugh, petting his head. “proud of you.”

“yeah, yeah.” he grouches through the brief showing of a smile, closing his eyes. “it's still my birthday so you're not allowed to make fun of me.”

“mm, is that right?”

caleb huffs, amping up the theatrics, refusing to calm down until you cup his face and silence him with a kiss. only then does he settle down enough for you to wish him a happy birthday with an even sweeter kiss, lifting your hips up to settle down in the rumpled sheets as he disposes of the condom. exhaustion hits your body even harder than after your first orgasm, nearly half asleep when he comes back with a damn cloth to wipe away the sweat and cum from your thighs.

“i love you,” he whispers against your skin when he settles back into bed besides you, wrapping his arms around your waist and drawing you close. “we’ll get to the cake and presents tomorrow. thank you for everything you did today, baby. i loved it and i love you so, so much.”

three squeezes to your linked fingers is your response before you fall asleep in his arms. i love you, too.

[muwapsturniolo]

Drop the towel 🐰ྀི C. Sturniolo

"she's gonna be the fucking death of me-"

⟢ no warnings really, this is mainly fluff and involves a prank.

"What the fuck?"

Chris looks up from his phone, smiling as he sees his girlfriend. However, the smile drops as quickly as it forms, seeing her in nothing but a towel. His eyes dart towards Matt's desk, the monitors reflecting what's happening.

They were currently on live, streaming on Twitch, with too many people to count watching.

"What the fuck are you doing?" His words came out harsh, but he didn't care. She knew they were streaming; he didn't care if she was on camera. What he did care about was thousands of people seeing her so exposed. She opens her mouth to speak, but he cuts her off, his voice laced with protective irritation.

"Get the fuck out, what the hell are you thinking coming in here dressed in nothing but a towel?"

"I just had a question! Stop yelling at me!" She does her best not to laugh at his obvious frustration. She knew he was pissed, and she knew why, but it was all entertaing to her.

"I'm yelling because what the fuck are you doin' kid?" He stands up, grabbing her arm and trying to push her out of view of the camera, but she stays planted.

"I just have a question!" She repeats, making sure to give him the doe eyes he always falls for. He glares down at her, a grunt of frustration leaving his throat.

"What the fuck is it?"

"What do you think of this?"

It all happens in slow motion.

Matt's eyes widen as Bun lets go of the towel, his hands fumbling as he tries to turn the camera off. Nick screams in shock, covering his mouth in a split second before reaching out as if he could stop it in time.

Chris tackles her onto the bed, his body landing on top of Bun's in an attempt to cover.

"Turn off the fucking stream Matt!"

"Oh my god, oh my god!"

"Why won't it turn off?!"

Bunny cackles loudly at their obvious distress, the fact that they didn't notice, and immediately jumped into a frenzy, truly bringing her tears of joy.

Chris snapped his head downward, giving her the dirtiest and annoyed look he could muster. "What the fuck are you laughing at?! Do you think this shit is funny?! About a thousand people just saw your dumbass flash us, and probably clipped it! What the hell is wr-" He cuts himself off, seeing the familiar pattern of his favorite pajama set adorning her body.

His brain short-circuits for a second, trying to understand what just happened.

He slowly rolls off of her, lying flat on Matt's bed and running his hands over his face in exhaustion.

"Jesus fucking christ Bun..."

She sits up and giggles softly, nothing but pure joy on her face at the series of events that just took place. Matt holds his head in his hands, completely in shock and anxious. Nick throws his head back in relief, slapping a hand over his heart.

Bunny stands up, simply waving goodbye to the stream and prancing out of the room as if she didn't just give the three brothers heart attacks.

They sit in a still silence, completely and utterly shocked by her prank.

"She's gonna be the fucking death of me-" Chris pushes himself off of the bed, already making his way out of the room.

"Bun! Get your ass in the room!"

[vad-hander]

DIVORCE ME

pairing: NCT Jaehyun x reader

genre: married couple au!, angst, smut, a little bit of fluff, long distance

warnings: mentions of divorce, unprotected v sex, dom Jaehyun, biting, punishment, fingering, praise, protected anal penetration, spit as lube, reverse cowgirl, slight overstimulation etc

words: 16k

"What?" your voice sounded more like a bark over the phone. But it was a good thing, that's exactly how you intended it to be. 

"So you did get the envelope?" Jaehyun, though, on the other side of the line was chill, if you were to judge by the tone of his voice. "My lawyer left a sticker so you'd find the right place to sign it this time." Your fingers pinched your nose, thinking how you scribbled over printed letters last time you had the same envelope sent in. 

"I don't have a single pen in my house." You sighed and dropped the envelope right next to a pen and a pencil that were always present at the top of the cabinet at the entrance of your apartment. 

"I'll send over the courier with a pen, then." you opened your mouth, Jaehyun not letting you chime in. "I'll even make it two in case one's not working."

Your voice was steady, you looked once again at the papers that had your name at the top. "I said no. I won't sign these papers."

"Why?!" Jaehyun cried into the phone. "We've been living separately for a year. Why are you being stubborn? We’re basically strangers at this point.” Your palm rubbed into your chest, trying to calm down the stinging in your heart at that wording. 

Your fingers ran over the words written in larger font at the top - Divorce Agreement.

“I don’t want to.”

“You know I can get a divorce from you without your signature? I’m just not going that route yet.”

“If you think you’re threatening me and I’m scared - I’m not.”

“I know for a fact you’re not threatened. I was married to you for five years.”

“Good.” You sighed, ready to hang up the phone. You didn’t want to continue hearing his voice. “So… will you sign those?” 

“I gave you my answer already.”

“Please.” A tinge of desperation in his voice cut you deeper than he clearly intended to. 

“No, I said no.” That desperate need to cut all ties - it was making you nervous, you had words stuck up in your throat asking what was the urgency. 

“I can’t wait another two years for whatever you’re doing there to end. Are you coming back for any of the holidays?” His voice changed in slight annoyance and you snapped out of heartache.

“None of your business.”

“I am your husband, until you sign the agreement, it is all of my business. In fact, it should only be my business, no one else’s.” Whatever he meant with that, really. You weren’t seeing other people, but he won’t know that.

“Bye.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. Every conversation with the man left you tired. And drained. And it used to never be like this before. He used to be your love. Or he is your love?

“Was that your husband?” Kate, who clearly eavesdropped the whole conversation, peeked from behind the living room wall.

“Is the stress too evident on my face?” You turned on the bright smile and crossed the room to elegantly sit on the couch. 

“I heard the words papers and sign and remembered your story.” She gave a little sad nod and patted your forearm in comfort. Sipping on her wine right after. “I’m so sad your expatriation has to end early, but I hope your sister appreciates your wish to help her with her babies.” 

“I know.” you whined to fit in with the mood of your only friend over here. “It’s been a year, though, and I haven’t had a single break since coming, so maybe I’m a little excited to go back home and take a week off.” You leaned back a little, imagining waking up later than usual, having fancy breakfasts and sharing them with the man that desperately wanted a divorce from you. Good thing Kate was loud and unstoppable with her blabbering, snapping you out of that horrible thought. 

“I thought the pleasure of your life was bossing around dumb Americans like me, and having those horrendous cold coffees, instead of all meals.” Your heart hurt on behalf of Iced Americano.

“You aren’t stupid-.” You remembered to protest, though. “I said dumb!”

“Okay, y’all aren’t dumb, just maybe lack a bit of work ethic that make our Korean office thrive. And my coffees are not horrendous!” Your eyebrows furrowed in feign annoyance. 

“We tried to get the hype, the line to the bathroom afterwards was so long, we had to run to other floors, girl.” You chuckled into your palm, shocked at the information previously hidden from you. 

“Oh my god! And everyone I asked said the drink was fun! The hypocrisy!” Your palm hid your opened mouth. 

“Yeah, the lining up to the bathroom was definitely a fun experience.” 

“Good thing my flight’s tomorrow, I won’t have to face those people knowing they pooped their pants because of me.” Kate laughed loudly. 

“Gi-i-i-i-rl, but I’m going to miss you. If you ever back in the States, just hit me up? Any time and any day.” She sing-songed, her eyes closing a bit, lifting her nose up.

“Yes.” You gave her a straight nod. You weren’t sure you’d ever get back here, you were determined to never move out of the only place you ever were supposed to live in.

“Won’t you invite me too?” She giggled.

“Quit lying, you won’t ever leave Seattle.”

“Wait, that’s so true.” Her palm covered her mouth, a striking sign your friend was tipsy. 

-

“Go, go, go! There’s your auntie!” You heard the voice of your older sister even before you could register her face in the crowd of the Incheon Airport. Two sets of arms sneaked over the luggage trolley and wrapped your legs. 

“Oh my god, Nara, Uri, hi! My babies.” Your arms wrapped over the kids that desperately fought to climb up your body, though in the year you were absent they’ve grown too much for you to be able to carry them so freely.

“Hi. Welcome back home.” Your sister extended an arm, giving you a welcoming pat on the back.

“Hyunjoo! Hi.” You exclaimed, excited, sighing tiredly afterwards. “Thanks for making it all the way here to pick me up.”

“These two couldn’t hold back their excitement when I said you were coming back.”

“Oh, really? Really? I brought so much fun stuff for my little angels!” You put on the baby voice, tickling your nephews. 

“I want to see!”

“Let’s get in the car and see what auntie got for you at home, okay?” Your sister offered, and the four of you moved to the exit. “You’ve left with two suitcases, right?”

“Yeah, had to bring gifts for you all.” You chuckled, running your eyes over the trolley with four of those. “Now I don’t know where I’m putting all of these in my apartment.” You chuckled to yourself.

“The bigger question is if all of those will fit into my car.” Hyunjoo gave you a look. “Shit-.” You cursed, looking down at the kids. “I mean, damn. That I’ve not thought about.”

“Where’s Jaehyun?” Shit, that you also have not thought about. 

“He has work stuff, couldn’t make it.” You brushed Hyunjoo off with an eye roll.

“On a Sunday?” She gave you an accusatory brow. “The lovey-dovey guy that made you breakfasts every Saturday and never let you drive alone for longer than 30 minutes?” You had to busy yourself with the trolley and making a turn, so you won’t burn alive under her stare. “Is he still sour that you left despite his disagreement with that decision? Are you two not together… by any chance?” Wow, that escalated quickly. 

“No, no! Of course not. I told him not to come, since he was telling me all the time how busy he was with work. I’m going to see him… at home.” Those words were also hardly believable, given the lovey-dovey image your sister had in her head. He should’ve been here, pressing his mouth into your cheeks, to not go absolutely feral over his lips on yours in the middle of the airport, arms squeezing you in his hold. 

You had to shake the thought away. In realms of your current situation, the only realistic reason for him to be at the airport would be to make you sign those papers and finally set him free.

Realisation of what home implied also downed at you at the exact same moment. You had a home that was also his, it also happened to be the only home you had. Same went for him. What a coincidence, right? For two people, that lived in the city together for 8 years. 

Jaehyun was obviously still living in that same apartment, giving he expected you to be back in the country approximately in two years and three months. “Do you want to go see our parents first?” You tried to climb out of that corner unhurt. 

“Yeah, three hour drive one way at 4pm Sunday? No thank you.” Hyunjoo snorted, helping her kids get into their seats.

“Right, I didn’t realise it was this late through the day.”

“And we all have work and day care tomorrow. When are you back in the office?”

“I took day off’s this whole week, hoping I’ll put all the stuff away, get back to my life here, and-.” Sort out this divorce agreement. “Yeah.”

“I want to play with aunty!” Nara whined as her mom did her seatbelt, while you were putting your suitcases away in the trunk. 

“I’ll come over on Tuesday, okay? Pick you up from daycare and we can get bread on the way back home, and then unpack all the gifts I had purchased for you and your parents. Deal?” You asked the kids, but looked at your sister for approval, she gave you one with a nod and the burst of laughter from kids only sealed the deal. 

“You know, Jaehyun’s been weird, since you left. I think he’s still hurt.” You dreaded the fact silence led to this conversation. It was pure quietness, twins knocked out in the back seat, you were also half way through slumber after that endless flight. You had a feeling something was on Hyunjoo’s mind, with the way she tapped her finger over the steering wheel, you just had to predict it was your husband in question. 

“I’m sure he’s fine.” You waved her off, again. 

“He’s not seen us once. Mom invited him over for every holiday and every weekend get together. He would always say he’s sick, he’s busy, over at his parents house. Anything.” You were curious what face he made as he came up with those, especially if those weren’t over messages. He probably had his whole face red, lip tugging between thumb and pointing fingers as he was carefully picking out words to not be taken wrongly. 

“And you didn’t stop the invitations?” They should’ve known better than hitting the man that tried to hide with invitations. 

“Of course not! He’s family?” Hyunjoo looked at you scandalised. 

“He might’ve not been comfortable coming alone.”

“He quite literally spent two weeks at our house, when you were in college and had to leave for that conference in Singapore. He stayed with all of us, like your substitute, just because he had nothing to do during summer break. And now he’s uncomfortable?” You drove down to the traffic light that turned red, giving your sister a perfect opportunity to turn her eyes to you. “Tell me what’s been going on?”

“Nothing.” Like, you weren’t even lying. Nothing’s been happening - he’s been bombarding you with those divorce agreements, you’ve been disposing them into trash - the end. Other than that, it’s been full on radio silence. You didn’t even know what he looked like by now, what if something changed in his appearance and he won’t feel like home anymore? What if anything changed in his heart, or more like what if his heart changed to an extent where it can’t be reversed? What if your only outcome is in fact divorcing immediately? You shrivelled, pressing yourself more into the seat. 

“I’m going to tell mom, and she’ll flip out and get the truth out of you both. I’ve been covering for you! Acting like I know he’s busy and stuff. And I have to know the truth, in case I need to continue.” That sounded like both valuable threat and reason. Still, you didn’t want to risk your lives and announce that he’s been wanting a divorce to your sister, while she’s driving through a highway. 

“Okay. Okay, he might be a tiny bit upset.” 

“Tiny? It’s been a year, more of like a grudge at this point.” 

“It’s because we’ve been apart, and now I’m back home and we’ll be good.” At least, that’s the plan.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I quit the expatriation thing early so I could go back to him.” You whispered the truth under your breath. Everyone got different versions of your reason to be back home, but the real one was your wish to return. You needed to go back to the man that held your heart and tried to throw it back at you. You needed to see with your own two eyes, if he really didn’t love you anymore. “I made a mistake, I really missed my family, I missed Jaehyun."

“Really? I thought you said it was about the project cancellation.” “No. The project cancelled because I said I’m leaving, whether they’re letting me go back as the part of the company or not.” You sighed, the truth was not what you wanted people to think, but you were ready to throw this truth at your sister. She was trustworthy to die with that info.

“I expect you two to be all lovey-dovey next Saturday at our parents anniversary thing, or I’m busting you to mom-.” You almost gasped and cursed, this was a good heads up about the event this weekend and you were glad your sister, probably knowingly, gave you that. You had time to come up with a cover up.

“I’m not sure about that. Jaehyun’s been telling me about seeing his parents-.” The eye roll from Hyunjoo made you stop. “No, for real. He’s actually planned this for weeks. I swear!” You would never be able to bring the man that tried to divorce you to your parents house in 5 days. What sort of torture would that be. For either of you. “I’ll come see mom and dad during the week. Alone. Since he works. And on the weekend we were supposed to go to his parents, but since it’s our parents anniversary, he’s going there alone.” Wait, this sounded like a perfect cover up plan. You almost clapped your hands excited. This sounded like THE plan.  

“All I hear is excuses. If you’re lying to me right now - you’re dead.” She made sure the thumb slid right against her throat with a threat. You looked away, scared, only to realise you’ve arrived at the destination. 

“Thanks for dropping me off!” You chirped, unbuckling. 

“Do you need help with your belongings?”

“No, I’ll do it myself. See you Tuesday, right?”

“Right.” Your sister gave you a nod, pressing the button for the trunk to open. As you pulled out all your suitcases onto the ground, you watched the door close back down, walking up to wave her away. 

“Tell your husband I said hi!” You waved, as she drove by you. 

-

You punched in the code you last set, praying he hasn’t changed it. 

Jaehyun’s birth date, your birth date, the month you’ve become official. 6 digits in and as you heard the approving melody, your heart sunk. Hopefully he still kept it because it meant things for him, not because he was used to typing in those specific six digits. 

As you processed your next step, you came with a conclusion there was quite a chance you can be met with a very taken aback with your presence Jaehyun as soon as you opened the door. If the man is at home, he surely heard the little melody too and was walking up to the door right now, confused and probably totally alerted that someone punched in the correct code. 

Either of you was about to get startled at this spontaneous reunion. And you weren’t about to give him the opportunity to catch you unprepared. Opening the door wide, before you could notice anyone in there, it struck you - it looked and smelled just like you left it. 

Your eyes trailed around the opened to your eyes space - it was all the same, almost like he didn’t live here, though you sure he was - given the stack of papers on the cabinet, the sneakers that he seemed to purchase while you were away and the raincoat over a kitchen chair, drying up from yesterday’s downpour. 

And no Jaehyun in sight. 

It was a good thing, you had a little time window to drop off your stuff, pack your bags, take your car keys and run away to your parents unnoticed. You had not prepared yourself to see him, you have not even imagined what you would say or how you’d say it. You had a feeling you could get chocked up at the mere sight of him. Before all this, Jaehyun was the love of your life, your husband. 

Despite leaving him like he didn’t matter, you’ve missed him every day. 

You loved him every awakened day of your life, paying a price of literal money for your dumbness to go back to him. You were still expecting the check for the exact payment, but you knew the fine you had to pay for wrapping everything up early was about to end up with big numbers. And you really didn’t care for that, as long as you could make sure the man will let you back inside his heart. 

You quickly pushed all your luggage inside, closing the door and kicking your shoes off. Your eyes trailed to the side of the cabinet where you kept your slippers on autopilot, only to be actually met with the pair standing right where they belonged to. Lined up with Jaehyun’s. Like you’ve never left.

You put them on and trailed to your bedroom, you needed to take a shower first, unpacking right after.

Jaehyun didn’t bother with putting your stuff away, you expected him to maybe throw it away in a rage tantrum. You were expecting anything. And you would’ve honestly understood. You deserved it. You’ve found your shampoo in the bathroom, the clothes you left behind in your shared walk-in wardrobe. You picked up all needed belongings and quickly freshened up in hot water. 

Dragging the first suitcase on the floor, you took all your clothes out to safe space for the gifts you had to take back your family in that same suitcase. You felt so emerged in the acton, sorting things out, leaving things you brought for Jaehyun on the side, taking things for the washer to one pile of clothes. Fresh ones you could take to your parents to the other one.

“Who the hell are you!” You jumped in place, turning around and letting the man see you properly, not just the corner of your back peaking out of the closet. You didn’t even see or hear him come in, brain a mush with the jet lag.  “Y/n?” Jaehyun dropped the umbrella, that you guessed he grabbed for defence as he heard your movement, and stilled. “What are you doing here?” He gasped, losing his voice by the end of the sentence completely. 

The emotions on his face is what really hurt you. Not a single one of his muscles moved in the direction of smile, or relief, or any other emotion that you could describe with any sort of positivity. He frowned, then gasped again, closing his eyes as if checking if he hallucinated you here. Then he set his mouth in such a downward way your eyes almost gave up on you. 

“Hi?” You offered a smile, like the situation wasn’t this awkward unexpected reunion of two people despising each other and being half way divorced. You weren’t despising him, but if he was despising you, you liked to make him feel it was the same way on your side. 

“What are you doing here?” Your eyes immediately trailed down his arm - his ringer finger was still covered with a wedding band, your finger immediately tugging on the identical one over your finger.

“I’m just packing my stuff, I’m going to leave quickly, I’m sorry.” You dropped the smile or any other ridiculous imagination you had in your head. You felt like a thief under his gaze.

“No-. How did you get here? And you’re leaving back to the US already? Have you always been here?” Jaehyun frowned even deeper.

“No, they sent me back, turns out I’m also very much needed here, so they had to put Korea’s office priorities before Seattle.” You lied the only line you’ve practiced. 

“When did you come back? How did you get all this stuff back here on your own?” Jaehyun’s eyes traveled over your suitcases and bags.

“Does it matter?” You snorted. The only thing he cared for is how you got those suitcases in?

“Well, yeah?” He raised a brow.

“Hyunjoo picked me up at The airport and dropped me off here.” You shrugged, folding a shirt into a pile of dirty clothes. 

“You should’ve t-.” He cut himself off. “Are you planning… to stay… here?”

“In the country? Seems like a yes. In this apartment? No, I’m packing.” He didn’t have to shush you away, you’ll gladly leave. 

“Where will you go?” 

“Why exactly does this matter to you, once again?” You gave him what you hoped was a very disgusted look. 

“We’re married.” “Yet, right? Now that I’m here you’re surely getting me to sign those stupid papers of yours.” You snorted. 

“I-, ugh. I didn’t know you’ll be coming back so soon.” 

“That was intended.” You shrugged

“Where are you going? You don’t have another home in Seoul.” Jaehyun pressed and walked in closer.

You folded away from him, not willing to get even a lick of his scent and his presence this close to you. 

“I’m going to stay at my parents. Then work it out, doesn’t matter. You can have this place to yourself.” 

“Okay-.” He stilled, eyes unfocused. 

“Okay?” You looked up scandalised, your Jaehyun would never agree to something like that. You expected him to fight with you over this. You’d gladly fight with him over the division of property, in hopes to get closer somewhere in between. In hopes he’d say I don’t want to divide anything. I want you all to myself. And you’d allow yourself to fold into him and admit that you’ve never wanted this in the first place. “I was expecting you to at least act like you didn’t want that.” You just bit. 

“No, I’m just confused to see you here.”

“Why? Got someone already? Are they coming here? That’s why you’re all invested?” You let out the worst leave your mouth. You were scared, so worried, that Jaehyun let someone into his hurt heart to stop the aching you caused. 

“What the hell, no. You were supposed to be in another country for two more years. Of course I’m confused. I wasn’t expecting to see you here, on the floor wearing my stuff like you never left.” You looked down at the shirt - it was clearly his, you haven’t looked down on the print once since you picked it up. You should’ve guessed your things weren’t just laying around on top of the shelves here anymore. When you’ve been absent. For months. 

“Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to give you a heads up, so you’d run to the airport with your divorce agreement.” You shrugged.

“Shut up.” Jaehyun let out. And it wasn’t the mean shut your stupid mouth type of intonation. He grabbed onto his head, like it was about to explode, grunting a little. 

“Huh?”

“You’re the reason I even had to send it to you.” His eyes opened and directed at you. 

“I know, Jaehyun, I’m well aware of that.”

“What are you even doing here?”

“As I said, they sent me home early, turns out three years was a stretch. I know this is sudden, and I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, or ruin this bachelor life of yours. I’m repacking and going to my parents.” You should’ve not stuck with your pride. You should’ve fallen to his feet and asked for forgiveness. You hated this encounter. And you hated that you made it worse. 

“Bachelor life, what the hell-.” Jaehyun mumbled under his breath, grabbing onto his head once again. 

“We haven’t had a single conversation in a year, I could’ve never imagined this to happen-, in this way-. This seems to be even worse than I imagined. I should’ve went straight to my parents, just couldn’t tell Hyunjoo about this… us, I mean not us-.” You panicked, moving your arms around and avoiding Jaehyun’s gaze.

“While you’re at your parents’, you might as well tell them we’re getting a divorce, because I’m out of reasons to dodge their invitations.” Jaehyun interrupted your conscious mumbling with a little bite to his tone. 

“Don’t worry, since I’m here they won’t even be bothered by your absence.” You weren’t about to let that slip. 

“Okay, good, because I just got a text from your mom, hoping to see me on Sunday. I guess you’ll work that out yourself.” He gave you a subtle smirk. 

“I will, don’t you worry.” Jaehyun walked out the door of your previously shared bedroom, slamming it and you were sure he was cursing under his breath, because he always did that when he was stressed. At least he used to. 

You knew he’d be clearly surprised if he saw you, you didn’t expect him be angry and pent up and so unreachable, even though you were the one who left him. You made him consider filing for a divorce. 

You still hoped for a little smile or something along the way of that.

-

“So we’re just jumping straight to violence?” You trailed the route to the kitchen, not knowing if you should whisper or talk normally with him.

“And you broke up with me, and also expected me to have fanfares and cake prepared for your return? I want a divorce, I thought you had enough time to settle with that idea.” Jaehyun drank a glass of water in one go, filling up another one. “You did this.” 

“I didn’t break up with you-.” “Seriously? You left.” The way his voice went an octave higher cut you. 

“I told you, I-.”

“You’re asking for my opinion, or just telling me something that’s already settled?” Your body was straddling his thighs. Jaehyun scrolled through the phone after work, waiting for you to come back home so you’d have your dinner together. You ran into the apartment, bubbling with excitement. Jaehyun didn’t even have the time to put his phone away, with the speed you got on top of him and kissed his mouth. The man under immediately adjusted to your mood, fingers pressing into your thighs with pressure. Until you told him the reason for your excitement, or more specifically the timings of it. 

Because he was excited for the opportunity, before you let him know the contract was for three years. That’s when his fingers loosened the grip and his mouth turned downwards.

“No, it’s not settled. Obviously, I really want to go, but I would miss you terribly.” You leaned to peck his mouth, not getting any reciprocation out of Jaehyun.

“So you’re not going?” He lit up. 

“I don’t know. If my visa application-.” You drew circles on his chest. If your visa is approved, you will have to go, it seems. “You applied for a visa? Without telling me?” Jaehyun caught your fingers in his hold, voice more of a growl at the new piece of information. 

“I didn’t, my company literally have all the papers to do that for me. They’ve been considering me and someone else. As soon as I heard about visas - I came to tell you.” You lied there, a little. Another person was considered before, you were the only one they applied a visa for. You also had to give them your passport, but that was also the part you hoped Jaehyun won’t focus on. 

“So it is settled.” He sighed and let go of your fingers. “I thought you’d be excited for me?” You pouted leaning in to Jaehyun, who’s been looking away from you this whole conversation. “Baby, we could literally be talking on the phone all the time, in case they want me to go. All the holidays we’ll be together.” you kissed his cheek, expecting for him to soften. 

“I was excited, before you told me it’s for three years? And it’s settled, and you have not even considered asking me to come with you.”

“I have, but I don’t want you to lose everything here, this is only temporary. I love you so-so much.” You pressed your mouth into the corner of his. 

“Everything wouldn’t even matter if I lost you.” Jaehyun finally looked you dead in the eyes.

“Baby.” You murmured, touched, arms hugging his shoulders, face tucking into his neck. “You wouldn’t.”

- “Can we have this conversation properly? I don’t want you to go.” Jaehyun walked out the bedroom, suit perfectly wrapping his body. “I’ve been thinking about it for the whole night, and I can’t allow you going away. For three years. If it’s 6 months, okay. I’d somehow go with that. Three years - absolutely not. Honey, please hear me out.” Jaehyun’s fingers pulled onto your waist to turn you around and face him.  

“Do you want to come with me?”

“No. Not like this, not when it seems to be not even a second thought in your head.”

“It’s not like that, I have thought of you going, and it’s always you struggling because you left the job you loved. And what would you do afterwards? When we have to return? You will be jobless again? Your parents also won’t forgive me for taking their only son away from them.” You ran your thumb over his lower lip. 

“Okay, then both you and I - we’re staying here.” Jaehyun kissed the finger tip that’s been teasing him. 

“Baby, no, it’s not settled like that either.”

“Why are you lying to me about this?” Jaehyun whispered, getting closer to your face. “If you’re lying, doesn’t it mean you don’t want to go? You want to stay with me and can’t? You can quit. I’ll cover all our expenses while you’re looking for a new job.” His eyes focused on you, trying to see through the shield you’ve put on. 

“No, I want to go, but I also don’t want to leave you.” You also moved your face in his direction, expecting a kiss.

“Then don’t. If it’s not settled, then it’s okay to decline.” Jaehyun pecked your mouth. 

“You’re right.” You nodded, hearing a relieved sigh come out of Jaehyun’s mouth, kissing your cheek next. “It’s not too late.”

“I love you, have a good day.” Jaehyun gave your side a squeeze, leaving to put his shoes on.

“You too.”

-

You had no better way to tell Jaehyun what happened at work than literally start packing. You got your visa approved, you were set to leave in two weeks. There was no way for you to jump in and tell them to pick someone else instead. Your boss patted your shoulder proudly and told you how he had always believed in you. And coming up somewhere in between with I can’t do this felt just wrong. 

You couldn’t do this.

Despite the absolute itchiness of your entire body this whole day, you were trying to pick out clothes for packing. Agonising over the racks of your clothes for the past forty minutes. 

“Bab-. No. No-no-no, what are you doing?” Jaehyun’s fingers pulled the skirt out of your hold. “Where are you going?” He dropped on his knees next to you and held onto your face. 

“I came to tell them that I can’t leave for three years, I thought about talking to cut down to six months like you told me you could endure. But I was told I got the paper work approved, tickets purchased and everyone are expecting me in Seattle in two weeks.” You lowered your face into his chest, allowing for Jaehyun to hug you if he had strength to do that.

“Two weeks?” Jaehyun couldn’t even say it without chocking. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you earlier, I didn’t, because I couldn’t decide what mattered more-.” You eased into his hold more. 

“What mattered more? You couldn’t decide whether I, or a stupid job mattered more?” Jaehyun shook you a little so you’d open your eyes. 

“No, no. Of course you matter more. Baby, you obviously all that matters to me.” That’s not even what you meant with mattered more.

“Fuck.” Jaehyun chuckled lowly, clearly affected by the stupid slip of your tongue. “Can’t believe my wife’s a workaholic. Never used to be one.” He stood up, letting go of you and letting the skirt fall into the suitcase. 

“I am not. It’s just… Seattle? Have you ever been to Seattle?” You looked up at him. 

“I clearly haven’t.” Jaehyun looked away from you, taking the jacket off his shoulders. 

“Me neither, so I didn’t know how to say no to that.” Somehow, you had a strong believe that if it’s something you really wanted Jaehyun would give in and feel better about it because he loves you. You were clearly wrong. 

“Can’t believe these words are coming out of your mouth.” You held onto Jaehyun’s ankle so he wouldn’t walk away. Pathetic.  

“I know.” You stood up, taking Jaehyun’s face into your hands. “We will have to learn how to be long distance.”

“I don’t want to learn any of that.” He grumbled, like a hurt baby. Maybe, because he was one. And it was fair for him to be one, you knew that for sure. 

“Baby, I know, I don’t want to too. But life sometimes forces us to do things we don’t want to. Like this here.”

“Like being my wife?”

“Honey, you’re blowing this out of proportion!” You exclaimed. 

“Really? I just wouldn’t want to be married to a woman that can’t even voice out her priorities to me. That decided on her own she’s moving to another country for three years, when she has a family to discuss these things with. If you don’t care for me - good, I don’t want to care for you either. Maybe you’ve already planned to get a divorce?” Jaehyun pushed away your hold, looking away, running his fingers with force through his hair, pulling at the little hair on the nape. This… weren't the words you expected out of him. “You’re being dramatic.” You could only gasp out absolutely taken aback at that suggestion. “And jumping to ridiculous conclusions.” The words left his mouth so easily and so firmly. “Suggesting I want a divorce is blowing this out of proportion, no?”

“You’re being insensitive. I love you and I am against you leaving, but it seems like it doesn’t mean a thing to you. You’re still going, like we’re strangers. You didn’t want to talk with me about this. How do you want me to not jump to conclusions? You lay it all out for me. Next step is clearly a divorce.” 

“Good, let’s get a divorce then.” You let out with a bite. 

“Good.” Jaehyun nodded and walked into the bathroom. 

-

“Seeing this-, honestly, just the idea of you seriously going away - it’s making me dizzy.” Jaehyun spoke to you, finally, as you struggled to close the zipper on your suitcase. Jaehyun given you a cold shoulder for the entirety of two weeks. No talking, beyond questions his life depended on, no physical contact despite sleeping in one bed. He would only tell you in the mornings, how he wished you’d pick him over a job, and he would always run out of the door before you could tell him you would never pick anything over him. He’s number one in your heart despite the decision. 

And you could’ve been talking, kissing, and touching, and having sex, for that matter, with your number one for the whole two weeks. To fulfil at least the tiniest bit of your longing, but now you were less than a day away from your flight and itching horribly for his mouth all over your body.  

“Honey, it-.”

“I meant it, if you’re seriously flying away - we’re getting a divorce.” He looked you dead in the eye. That was a stare of someone who decided to make their words come true. 

“I am flying away, Jaehyun.” You sighed. 

“So you want a divorce?”

“No. I want to live through this opportunity and get your support.”

“I don’t want to do that. Three years is a whole fucking lot.” He bursted, expectedly. You just wished he would’ve done that much earlier, you needed to have that fight two weeks ago, not now. If you fought about it earlier - you would’ve already settled with the idea and spent your last hours together in each other’s presence, closer than you could ever get.

“I know, okay, I know. That’s a lot and it’s unfair, but it happened so quickly for me too. I had no information whether or not it’s happening for some time, and as I told you, the next day they say my visa’s approved and I’m expected in Seattle in two weeks.” You closed the distance between you, walking to the couch Jaehyun sat on. “I wish this went a different route.” “Why did you not tell me, when it was just in the talks? That’s something I’m genuinely not understanding. We always talked about the tiniest things? You text me about everything! But not Seattle? Is this some sort of punishment? Did I do something wrong?” You watched him gradually curl each finger into a fist, obvious display of silent rage. 

“I didn’t want you to worry, if nothing was gonna happen. You didn’t do a thing, I never punished you. I just knew it’ll be bad, if they want me to go. I wanted to keep it low because I love you! I didn’t know they’ll end up processing everything this quickly.” You wanted to go, but also didn’t. Talking about it with Jaehyun would’ve made that possibility real, and you were hoping it’ll just pass by you, while also praying for them to pick you. You also knew if you told that to him earlier - he would’ve supported you all the way through. He totally would’ve been 180 to him now, because he was always supportive of you. He was clearly raging because he was kept in the dark. He was almost doing exactly what you wanted him to do. Making it so much easier for you to leave. 

It’s unexplainable, really. Both your wish to go and not to.You were expecting worse, while hoping for them to pick you. It’s like you were split in two. One wanted Jaehyun to be the centre of your life, the other wanted to try things out of his reach also. 

“And now your flight is tomorrow and you think just leaving this as it is is going to do any good to this whole relationship?” You kneeled in front of him, taking in his pained expression. 

“You were the one who didn’t want to talk.” 

“Yes, because hearing that you’re not sure what matters more - me or the job was not on my bingo list for this year.”

“What do you want me to do?” You tried to be calm, talk to him like he was a baby.

“You know exactly what I want you to do - no doubt.”

“I literally can’t say no right now, we have to go through this.”

“You literally can. Say your husband is not allowing for you to leave the country. I’m okay to be the tyrant in the eyes of your co-workers if that means you’re staying.” Jaehyun moved his knee from under your hold. 

“Baby.” You reached for his fingertips, Jaehyun jerked back at the mere touch of you. “I don’t want to fight. I want you to make love to me for the whole night, so it’ll be enough at least for the littlest bit I’m away from you. Can’t you do just that? Can we not fight? I want to be talking to you, seeing you through my phone and waiting for the day we see each other again.” You patted his lower stomach, not knowing where to put your hands. Jaehyun forced you away from him. 

“You’re clearly not hearing me, I see.” Jaehyun slammed his laptop, walking out the living room.

-

You stood at the entrance of your apartment, shifting weight from one foot to the other, not sure if you’ll ever forgive yourself for walking out in full silence. 

“Won’t you kiss me goodbye? I feel like we’ll both regret it a lot. You haven’t touched me in two weeks and I can’t believe I’m leaving like this.” You called out to Jaehyun’s back. Despite the silent treatment, he spent the whole morning within your eyesight. The whole time you were packing and running around, Jaehyun kept himself somewhere close. It almost felt like he was walking you out and you were comforted by that.

“I won’t.” He grumbled. 

“I will miss you a lot. Despite what you’re thinking, I love you.” You trailed behind him, squeezing his wrist in your hold. 

“Yeah, you’ve clearly showed that.” Your husband tried to shake your hold off of him. 

“Instead of being a little bitch about it, you could’ve been looking up tickets to see me in June.” You whispered into his back.

“I don’t have the money for that, I’m not the one with a job in the States.”

“You’re still being a little bitch about it and are also lying.” He did have the money, his salary was still above yours even with this US increase you were given. 

“You’ll miss your flight, and we can’t allow that to happen. Go.” Jaehyun spared you a glance and walked off to the couch, busying himself with the iPad he didn’t even usually use. 

You had to swallow the lump in your throat, be the bigger person, because you were the one at fault. You tip-toed around your luggage, getting closer to the couch he occupied, crashing his shoulders under your weight, as you leaned in and pressed your head against his. “I love you.” Your mouth pressed into his set jaw. “I don’t want a divorce, I want to come back home to you. I will miss waking up every day and seeing your pretty eyes and feeling your fingers on my thigh. Come on, baby. Let me kiss you, if you’re divorcing me, am I not allowed to have my last kiss?” Jaehyun touched your arm that choked his neck, and you hoped he did that so he’d be able to turn around. You let him go and watched him turn around to you.

“We’re not having our last kiss, no. Please, go.” He forced you to stand up. 

“Jaehyun, you can’t be serious right now. We’ve been together for 10 years-.” “And those 10 years seem to be nothing to you, right? Since you were able to decide on leaving me with no second thoughts?”

Your mouth opened and closed, like you were a fish. Just air, no words to defend yourself or your actions. Jaehyun walked up to the door, rolled both your suitcases out and looked at you, clearly expecting for you to roll out the apartment in the same way. 

“Safe skies.” He rumbled, as you walked up to the elevator, not having a chance to turn around and look at him one last time as Jaehyun closed the door.

You hated how the taxi driver asked if you were okay, because you clearly weren’t - hot tears streaming down your face through the whole ride. You hated the side eyeing of every person at the airport, and then on the plane, judging your red face and puffy eyes.

You cried through the whole 13 hour flight, to the point you could barely see, both from soreness and puffiness of your eyes. They even pulled you for the random check at the airport, probably barely seeing the correlation between the photo and reality. You had to make up a joke about an allergic reaction. 

You got in the taxi and barely held back from bursting there too, taking another 3 hours to settle in your booked apartment and finally be left alone. You had two whole days up your sleeve to just soak in your loneliness and cry. 

Three months later you received the envelope for the first time. You tore those pages apart, calling Jaehyun despite it being late night back at home and cursing him. With every word you knew. You hated every bit of him for actually making those words come true. 

Since then, you would get the papers regularly and would regularly dispose them into trash. Your reaction also became more stoic - simple no’s over the message or on the phone. You were almost convinced he sent them just so you’d talk, and you’d agree getting the papers daily, if that meant you’d hear his voice and his steady breaths through the phone. 

-

“I thought I’ll never see you again.” Jaehyun broke down the dead silence that set in your apartment. You had no good reason to not leave immediately, but somehow you found yourself on the floor, going through make up like you needed to pick each item separately, stretching out time you could spend here.

It did you good, it seemed, Jaehyun finally build up courage to talk to you, or maybe just found words he could tell you.

“Why? It was set for just three years, and I would’ve eventually came back on vacation.” You haven’t used a single day, too scared to come back home and face him. But eventually, maybe, you could’ve done that. 

“I thought you’ll sign the agreement and I won’t every see you again. Purposefully avoid you.” Jaehyun sat down on the bed, not far from you, you could move a little to the side and rest the back of your head against his knee, and you felt like it meant something. These words also supposedly meant something, why else would he come to you, when you’ve settled already that you’re leaving. 

“Why?” You asked, careful. It was hard to keep your emotions at bay when they were already in your throat. 

“I couldn’t look at you, I knew I’d be so overwhelmed, and I’m proven right. I’m overwhelmed.” You turned your head, looking at Jaehyun to make a conclusion on his emotions. He stared into the floor before him, eyes blinking slowly, like his brain is picking out the words carefully to not tell you too much. You wished he didn’t hold back. 

“I’m so sorry, that I’ve suddenly been making your life a mess. We were never like this… right?” Jaehyun nodded slightly, zoned-out, it seemed. 

“You were right, I really regretted not kissing you goodbye, not taking you to the airport myself. Really regretted not calling you and asking if you were okay, somewhere far away from home, all alone and hurt by me. I regret so much not replying to your message letting me know you arrived safely. I fucking hate myself for never wishing you a good night. And now it’s too late, irreparable. I’ve blamed you, but actually made the worst moves to ruin our marriage.” Every sentence felt like a shot straight to your chest. Every pause and single breaths after each word felt like the rope around your neck was getting tighter. It was never too late to work on your mistakes, as long as he wanted it too. “I just hope, moving forward, we can be acquaintances.” You choked. 

“Right, acquaintances.” You could only muster out of your mouth. “I really have to get on the road.” You stood up, wiping the tear off your cheek, before Jaehyun could notice. You should’ve left before you’d head him call you an acquaintance. You were nauseous and probably weren’t save to drive.  “I couldn’t see my car key where I left it. Do you know where it is?” You changed the topic, turning around to look at Jaehyun with no trails of emotional trauma. 

“Ugh, yeah. It’s in my pocket. I’ve been driving your car lately, I’m sorry, I should’ve asked.” Jaehyun got up, looking around for his jacket, you assumed. 

“Why?” You asked, confused. He had his own car, the car he loved dearly, in fact. Always refused to go in yours, and he’s been driving it all of a sudden. What a weird confession to make. “Did something happen to your car?” It was the only logical interpretation of his words. 

“No, yours just eating less gas-.”

“Really?” You looked at him confused, maybe he was right, you wouldn’t know. 

“Yeah, here are the keys.” He reached out his open palm with the car key. You really refused to touch the skin of his hand. You reached out and then jerked your hand back, looking Jaehyun in the eyes to watch his reaction. He moved his other arm, grabbing onto your hand and pressing the key into your palm, covering it with the other. 

This really went out of the no touching route, you hated how you immediately needed his hands all over your body. That’s exactly what you tried to avoid. Longing. 

“I’m sorry if I left anything in the car-.”

“Stop, it’s not like your things would bother me.” You huffed, only now realising he’s still holding your palm between his fingers. “I anyway always preferred your stuff over mine, hope it’s something I could use.” You smiled, trying to make him feel better, yourself feel better. And it seemed to work, with the way Jaehyun looked you in the eyes and lit up for the slightest moment, before it felt like reality dawned on him, and he let go of you and dropped the smile. 

You grabbed your stuff and walked out the apartment. 

-

“Hey, Jaehyun?” Hyunjoo spoke into the phone in a hushed whisper, trying to keep the call out of everyone’s hearing ability. 

“Oh?” She could clearly hear his astonishment in that sound. “Hyunjoo, hi. I thought I had your phone number saved.” Jaehyun scratched his brow. Caught absolutely off guard to hear your family member on the other side of the line. Did something happen to you?

“That’s our aunt’s, mine’s occupied by Nara and Uri.” Hyunjoo was well aware that information didn’t matter to Jaehyun, but still. She felt like sharing. 

“Did something happen? Is my wife okay?” Even he himself hated the way he referred to you, unable to imagine how Hyunjoo must’ve cringed at him. 

“No, she’s okay.”

“I see.” He sighed, weirded out by the call. That silence only gestured further more for Hyunjoo that something was off. Her hunch was strong, and the vibe coming from Jaehyun - she could tell, it didn’t give off the usual openness and sweetness. She were even more concerned, than before she called. 

“I don’t know if my sister is lying that you two are all good, because something tells me you two aren’t on good terms-.” Hyunjoo trailed off, in hopes of Jaehyun catching the bait and telling the truth. 

“I don’t know what to tell you. I think it’s better you discuss these things with your sister.” Jaehyun sighed into the phone, giving away more than he intended. 

“All I know is, if she didn’t lie - you should definitely come, it’s our parents wedding anniversary. Our mom will eat your wife alive, you know how she hates when someone’s missing. Minhyuk is already a fallen victim for not coming in often enough, and it’s not long until she focuses on your absence.” 

“I’m really sorry, I won’t make it today. It’s a four hour drive from my parents-.”

“Are you really at your parents?” Hyunjoo furrowed her brows, trying to hear over the loud talking of your family. 

“Why?”

“There’s a train, you could hop on to that.”

“The train station is far from your house.” Jaehyun sighed, switching his arms that held the phone.

“I could pick you up.” Jaehyun stilled, not giving Hyunjoo an answer. “Do you love her or not?”

“Why?” Jaehyun sighed once again, and Hyunjoo could really hear the indecisiveness in that sound. 

“When I asked you if you loved my sister last time I saw you, your ears turned all red and you said that you’re so in love, you feel your head get dizzy from time to time. It was less than I year ago. We joked around how you two are never coming out of that honeymoon phase. You didn’t throw at me that sad little why. Something really happened between you two.”

Jaehyun raised his voice, Hyunjoo finally could hear him properly. “Your sister left for a year, of course something happened between us.”

“She made a mistake, also quit the job to run back to you and I hope you’ll appreciate that action and find it in you to forgive her for her stupid ways.”

“She did what?” By the way Jaehyun gasped Hyunjoo could tell he was far from knowing the truth. 

“What did she tell you about her comeback?” “That Seoul office needs were put before Seattle, so she was transferred back.”

“Unfortunately, despite a job, a marriage and other adult things in her life, she’s still a stubborn child, that can’t admit to things.” Hyunjoo rolled her eyes, looking for you in the crowded living room to scold you as soon as she’s off the phone. 

“I’ll text you the time my train will be at the station. Okay?”

“Yes, I’ll be waiting. Guess see you tonight?”

“Yeah.”

-

“Sweetheart, even Minhyuk made it over here after his shift! Where’s our precious Jaehyunie? Hey, Minhyuk, where did your wife disappear?” Your mom moved her attention back at you. “Where did Hyunjoo go?”

“I have no clue? She grabbed my car keys and said she’ll be back in an hour.” You shrugged.

“Where’s mommy, dada?” Nara asked her dad, pressing her little head into his chest. 

“Will come back soon, picking things up.” His mouth pressed into her ear, striking you a look you didn’t know how to interpret for the meanwhile. 

It all suddenly fell into place, when Jaehyun walked into the living room, Hyunjoo trailing right behind. 

Every member of your family, your mom’s closest friends, jumped off their seats to pinch his cheeks, or slap it in a caring manner, comment on how good he’s looking, or how sweet he is for coming despite the distance from Seoul or his parents’. 

It was hard for you to process his presence, especially when you didn’t even talk about it with him. You found your sister’s eyes on you with a smirk, not even hiding the fact it was her doing. You wondered how much she was able to work out on her own. About your marriage and the state it was in. 

You felt your mouth open in shock, as you watched the encounter between Jaehyun and your dad, only to realise that he’s progressively getting closer to you. Finally closing the gap and wrapping an arm over your waist, mouth latching onto your temple. The touch wasn’t giving off any feelings, it was clearly an act for the public. 

“Hi, baby.” He mumbled into your skin, moving away. “My mom told me to greet everyone on her behalf and she’s sorry for stealing me from this gathering.” He smiled sweetly at everyone, mouth pressing once again into your skin. “What is it? Why are you so flabbergasted?” He chuckled, fingers flexing over your waist like the last time he touched you, or kissed you in any way wasn’t almost a year ago. 

“You said you can’t make it, I’m just confused.” You finally pulled yourself together, letting a small chuckle out. You finally looked at him up close, plastering a smile onto your face, palm moving onto his chest as your lips landed in the corner of Jaehyun’s mouth. You would’ve kissed his mouth, but were scared he’d tap out of that excessive acting. “Hi.” You whispered, not sure if anyone was locking in on the acting in front of them. 

“Jaehyunie, you really made us worry, when my daughter was away and you wouldn’t come see us-.” Your mom pulled everyone’s attention back on you two.  

“I just couldn’t imagine coming here, knowing I won’t see my wife for three years. I’m sorry, I should’ve been more cautious of how you’ll feel.” He bowed, making your grandmothers coo at each other.

“No, no. It’s all good. It is such a blessing that project got cancelled and they let you come back. A family should always be together, now you can try for babies-.” 

“Mom.” You chocked. 

“Yes, we obviously need Uri and Nara to become the wiser older siblings, just like their mom is.” Hyunjoo teased.

“We haven’t thought of that yet, you need to slow down. I just got back-.”

“You two are almost thirty-.” Jaehyun cut off, politely. 

“We thought of a baby before everything happened, once my beautiful wife is ready, I’m sure it’ll happen.” You felt a little shiver of anxiety run down your spine. 

-

You watched Jaehyun’s back for a little, comprehending whether or not he’d hate you progressing with the act. He straightened his back a little, and it was hard to hold back any longer. You wrapped your arms over his waist, tucking your face between his shoulder blades.

He stilled at first, wrapping his fingers over your arm a moment later.

“Thanks for coming here, I don’t know why or how Hyunjoo did it, but you saved me.” Your mouth left a kiss on his back, before snuggling your face into the material once again. 

He tapped the back of your palm multiple times, before you worked out it was his call for you to let him go. You did so, taking a step back also, so he could turn around. 

Jaehyun looked down on you, face not giving much to interpretation, but his arms wrapped around your shoulders and tucked you into his chest. Your arms found their place on his waist. This here, it felt like you were home for the first time since you came back. Despite spending this whole week back here, only now did it feel like you returned where you belonged. You tightened your hold around him, Jaehyun letting his back hit the counter and welcome you between his legs, arms holding you firmer in his hold. It was hard for you to see the truth behind the action. Did he do that to put an impression on your family that you were good? Did he do that because that’s all he wanted to do since you came back? Your fingers caressed his back in little pats, eyes closing and muting all the background noise, focusing on the beating of his heart only. 

Jaehyun raised his head from the top of yours, only to bombard a multitude of kisses on top of your head. You felt like you were about to burn alive. 

“Aigoo, how did you two live separately for a year, when you’ve seen each other in the morning and already can’t let go of each other.” Your mom let you know the act was seen. Jaehyun pulled back. “In the morning?” Jaehyun smiled politely at your mom, shifting his gaze at you. You smiled innocently, resting your head on his shoulder, until your mom would move her attention elsewhere. “What’s this about?” Jaehyun whispered into your ear.

“Act like we spent the week at home, will you?” You smiled, mouth almost not moving as you spoke. 

“And may I know where you spent it?” Jaehyun’s arm wrapped tighter over your waist. The familiar press of his body against yours felt borderline ecstatic. 

“Four Seasons…?” You cowardly admitted staying at a hotel for the whole week, instead of facing reality. 

“You stayed at a hotel?! Instead of coming back home?” Jaehyun’s arm pushed you even more into his frame, hissing, making it wildly uncomfortable to press into his crotch during a build up for a confrontation. “Why do you hate me? I didn’t leave you.” Instead of a blow up, his shoulders slouched in lack of understanding your motives. 

You wished you could answer that yourself. 

“I guessed you won’t be comfortable being around me, but you came here. What did my sister tell you?” You hissed back at him. 

“That your mom was halfway done with nagging at Minhyuk, and you were next in line for my absence. Said you won’t come out alive out of it, so I had to hop on the train. If you’re dead, who’s signing my divorce agreement?” He chuckled, your palm landed on his chest, asking for a little bit of space between you two. The joke didn’t land where he wanted it to. At least you were hoping, that he’s playful and not about to pop the pen and paper from behind him.

-

“We haven’t slept in a bed together since April last year.” You stated, eyes glued to your double bed. 

“I’m aware.” Jaehyun simply shrugged. He might’ve not cared. 

“Do you… not want to?” You still made sure to ask. 

“I don’t care, I’m dead tired I’ll be knocked out on the floor, if it matters to you.”

"We should sleep tops to tails." you suggested, scared you'd eventually roll over into him and tuck yourself under his arm, like you knew you always did. 

"Sure." Jaehyun gave you the curtest nod and sat down on the bed with his back facing you. 

You grabbed the pillow and tossed it into supposed feet area, covering yourself with a duvet, thank God your mom had a spare one and you didn’t have to share it with him. "Turn off the light when you won't need it anymore. Thank you." you whispered and closed your eyes. 

Jaehyun was well aware of the fact you couldn't fall asleep with the light on, it was obvious the man also knew how much you hated to have your full body covered, because you were immediately hot all over even in the winter. But you had to intention of letting him see any of you from behind the material. 

You focused on the noises that were coming from him - he shuffled on the bed a little, clearly not lying down yet. Then he stilled, making you wonder if he was just staring at his phone, with the full illumination in the room. You were getting a little worked up at the idea of him purposely disturbing your wish to sleep. You wanted to turn around and see him and maybe have a little fight, because it seemed like the only valuable reason to talk to him. 

You were feeling too warm under the duvet, all because of those thoughts, you needed him to turn off the lights, so you'd pull it off yourself. When he'd roll to the other side and won't see your bare legs in the darkness. As you made up your mind to fight, you heard him get to his feet and finally turn the lights off. You held in a sigh. 

You listened carefully to his feet walking back to the bed and felt him sitting down. Heard and felt the mattress bend as he lowered his body fully and then shuffled with his own duvet. You felt the mattress bend under him as he probably turned away from you, and finally felt free to move the duvet off your body. 

Taking a long breath and actually trying to fall asleep this time. 

You tried not to picture much how you'd meet at the court's entrance to civilly agree on your divorce. You tried to shush those thoughts away and fall asleep quickly. 

You heard a little shuffle behind your back, Jaehyun probably moving his arms around to find a comfortable position. 

Until you felt his mouth on your outer ankle bone you were convinced Jaehyun was trying hard to fall asleep. Now you weren't so sure, as he moved his mouth a mere centimetre up. Your legs moved under his touch on reflex, trying to avoid the tickle of his mouth. 

Jaehyun's fingers wrapped over your sole, holding your leg in place, as his mouth trailed up your ankle to your calf. "Tell me if you want me to stop." He skipped a few centimetres up your body and pressed his mouth into the middle of your thigh. 

"It's okay." you whispered into the pillow, laying on your stomach. Jaehyun's mouth kissed your other thigh and moved away. You heard him shuffle behind you, probably sitting up, felt his fingers wrap around your ankles and pulling your body more to the centre of the bed. You tried to close your legs and felt his body between them. 

You were already so damn wet, not knowing what he wanted or intended to do, but you were just hoping Jaehyun won't take long to find out how he made you feel. 

His fingers ran up your legs while giving pressure to your skin, pressing his mouth right under your ass, the shorts giving him the perfect opportunity to feel up all the bare skin. You felt his tongue swipe up, while his hand squeezed the other side under its fingers. You perked your ass up, only to be pressed down with force. 

Jaehyun's luscious mouth moved up your butt cheek and left wet kisses, when you felt a striking pain of his teeth, digging into the soft skin. As you gave out a whine and shuffled under him, Jaehyun's free palm pressed into your lower back to keep you in place, pressing his teeth into you even harder.

Your hand blindly found his head, trying to make him let go. It's not like he didn't know it hurt, he purposely hurt you. 

"Baby, it really hurts." You finally whined, feeling his mouth let go of you and fall into your reached out hand, peppering kisses into your palm. 

Your butt cheek was on fire. 

"I know. That's your punishment for leaving me alone. For a whole fucking year. And staying at that fuck ass hotel for the whole week. Bet it doesn't even sting half badly to what my heart felt." 

"I'm so sorry." you tried to turn around and see him, but Jaehyun's arms pressed into your knees. This was clearly another part of his punishment. "My ass is on fire, i need ice." 

"I can give the symmetrical one to the other side, it'll for sure stop burning over here." 

"No, please, this already hurts a lot. Is there blood?" you whined. 

"I wouldn't bite that hard, you're silly. Just a little red mark. It's not that harsh." His fingers slapped the butt cheek and you let out an 'ouch'. It for sure felt like there was blood to you. "I missed you." he whispered in a hushed manner, pressing his mouth against you. “I had to fuck my hand for a year because my wife left me alone. Are you sorry for that also?”

“I am.”

“Good.” Jaehyun pressed flat out palm into your core, your body leaning into his hand to feel the pressure that made your eyes roll backwards. “Tell me if you don’t want to have sex with me.”

“I want to, my only concern would be my entire family sleeping in the same building.” You moved your body against his palm, giving yourself a bit of stimulation. 

“Then you have to be extra cautious with your noises.” Jaehyun moved his fingers to the side, teasing the material of your underwear. 

“You can silence me with your kisses. Please, let me turn around, I want to kiss you.” You whined, feeling his digits tease your slickness. Jaehyun’s thumb disappeared in your folds, giving you pressure you missed so much. One more swipe of his fingers and all you need is his hips thrusting into you full force. Fucking you stupid, until you can’t stand up the next morning. 

“No, I don’t want you to.” His pointing fingers rolled over your clit in circles.

“I missed you so fucking much, baby.”

“I can tell. You’re so wet, so warm, so ready to take me inside of you.” Jaehyun’s fingers rolled down your slit, pressing into your entrance. “But I kind of thought of something else?” His digits penetrated you, curling inside as your ass once again lift up from the mattress, adding on the friction and pressure. 

“Baby, anything is good for me. Can you move your hand faster?” Jaehyun pressed his other hand into your clit, drawing small circle while pumping his other hand in and out of you. 

“You can’t be cuming this early, no. I’m going to move slowly. You need to relax. Completely.” He let his hand from your clit press into your lower back to lay you back down. “Shh, you need to relax, I need you to be absolutely unwind.” Jaehyun caressed your thigh with that same hand, letting left-over slickness stain your skin.

“Why?” You mumbled into the pillow, arms grabbing onto the material, as Jaehyun pulled back. As the question left your lips, you felt his same digit give pressure to your anus. “Why?” You asked again, meaning why do you want to do anal when my whole family could hear us. Not why the hell do you want that now. 

“Are you against it?” 

“No, we maybe should’ve taken it home.” You whined as he caressed his fingers against you. “We can’t, not when you tell me you’ve slept in a hotel for a week, when I thought you were here. I could’ve been fucking you for a week, in every way I could think of. I could’ve even calmed down by now and started making love to you instead.” Jaehyun’s mouth trailed kisses down your back through your shirt.

“Do you know…how to do it properly?” He clearly did, you just liked asking stupid questions. 

“I had plenty of time to work that out.”

“Don’t tell me it was through other people.” You swallowed a moan, feeling him slip into your wetness. 

“You must be fucking insane. I would’ve kept my faithfulness to you even if you signed the papers and I walked into you five years later on accident. You’re the love of my fucking life, baby.” Jaehyun slipped two of his fingers inside of you, giving pressure to your ass with the third one. 

“Jaehyun-ah.” You cried into the pillow not able to go with the same slowness of his movement, continue with that mere pressure into your ass, you needed more of him and more firmly, like you knew he was able to give.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He whispered sweetly. 

There was no sweetness in your response. When you were horny, you were far from being sweet. “I want you to fuck my ass. And I want you to do it roughly.” 

“I hear you.” Jaehyun whispered, pressing his mouth into your shoulder blade. “Let me take your clothes off, stick your ass up.” He let go of you completely, moving back down and watching you get on your knees. You stuck your butt out for him, his fingers immediately hooking onto your shorts and pulling them down your legs, throwing them off the bed with your underwear. You felt his mouth latch onto your heat, swiping the tongue up and down your slick folds, causing you to fold into his touch and chase his mouth with your core blindly. Your head buried deep into the pillow to not let the whimpers coming out of you be heard anywhere beyond your bed.

Jaehyun ran his tongue up and down, extending the trail up to your ass, repeating that same action multiple times. His fingers once again found your entrance, penetrating you full force with no warning. He didn’t really need to, you were so slick, he could get himself inside of you with no issue right the same moment. “We don’t have lube, so we’ll have to stick to your pussy’s slickness and my saliva. If it’s not doing it’s thing and it hurts, just tell me, okay?” 

“It won’t hurt.”

“It can, baby. Promise you won’t endure pain to make me happy.”

“I won’t.”

“Good girl.” He moved his fingers from inside of you, pressing into your butt cheeks to spread you wider. You felt stars in your eyes as Jaehyun’s tongue slipped inside of you, it was firm, so wet and warm. You chased him once again, as he tried to move away from you, sticking his tongue into your vagina while his finger pressed into your other hole, taking your mind completely off that foreign but fascinating feeling.

Your arm reached out to your husband between your legs squeezing his thigh barely reaching with your fingers. If he was still your husband, he’d know you weren’t just wanting to hold on to him. And he was, indeed, still your husband, because you could hear the shuffling, and the struggle of him trying to take his sleeping pants off with just one hand. He finally did so, moving his hips forward, until the tip of his cock fell into your open palm and you wrapped around it, pumping his tip. Jaehyun let out the loudest sigh, like he was lifting weights at the gym, trying to hold himself together. You pumped him, until he became too heavy in your hand, pressing him into your slickness just so you could feel his warm leaking head press into your longing pussy. His cock felt so painfully hard and he obviously needed to slip himself inside of you. 

You swiped his tip against your slit, making both you moan with the way the swipe felt so full to the both of you, until pressing him into your ass. Letting him know you wanted him get inside of you, just a finger wasn’t enough anymore. You needed the full experience he wanted you to have.

“Wait, baby, I need to find the condom.” Jaehyun pulled back, slipping his length out of your hold. 

“I’m still taking birth control?”

“It’s not about that. Didn’t I tell you, had plenty of time to work out how to do it properly. I can’t do both your ass and pussy, because bacteria can cause infections in your vagina, we can’t be doing that, can we?” You nodded, feeling Jaehyun climb back onto the bed. “I can put it on you, like when we just started dating. You liked it so much.” You haven’t put a condom on him in maybe eight years, you wanted to remember the feeling. 

“It’s okay.” You heard the foil break under his teeth, “Don’t want you to move out of this position.”

“Please?” You whined, reaching a hand out between your legs once again. Only now did you realise you obediently sat in the same position, when you could’ve turned around and force his mouth onto yours. 

Jaehyun slipped his tip into your fingers, the rubber material hiding the tip from your direct touch as he slightly put it on already. You wrapped your finger over him and in one swift motion rolled it all the way up, giving his balls a squeeze before moving your hand back to the base. You guided his hips closer to you, smudging the condom with your slickness, as you worked him against you. He did say you’ll need a ton of lube for that. 

Jaehyun moved away, your arm going back to the pillow to give you steadiness. You stuck your butt out more, hoping it’ll make easier for the both of you. You felt a drip of his saliva fall onto your skin, felt him smothering your entrance with his cock and felt the pressure, slipping himself into you.

“Is it…not working?” You asked, confused. You felt pressure, but couldn’t even comprehend the depth of that motion. 

“It’s working, just don’t strain yourself, it’ll hurt me. Is it okay?”

“It is.”

“Do you want me to touch your pussy?”

“I want to feel this properly.” You whispered, sure of the fact he slipped past the tip - it felt like more pressure than before applied. “Fuck.” You gasped.

“Want me to move away?”

“No, I might need your fingers.”

“Where?”

“Clit.” Jaehyun urgently pressed his digits into your core, massaging your completely soaking mucous. It gave you that little bit of relaxation you needed to let go and allow Jaehyun to move further, he did just that, slipping himself in.

“Can I move?” Jaehyun sighed.

“Are you deep?” You felt like he was all in, he probably wasn’t. 

“Mmh, like halfway?”

“Yeah, do that.” You whimpered as he moved away, pressing himself once again. “Do more spit.” You felt his warm saliva once again drip down your skin. 

“Fuck, this feels insanely tight. Like the next thrust I’m not going to be able to move back.” He gasped with each thrust and you couldn’t understand if it somehow was what he expected. 

“Do you hate it?” “No, I just have a feeling this won’t last long.” You could feel Jaehyun get deeper inside of you with every thrust of his. “Fuck, baby, you’re taking this so well.” He whined into your spine. “Fuck, fuck.” He cursed under his breath, hips finally pressing against your ass. Your fingers reached out to his balls, giving them a little stimulation while Jaehyun recollected himself. “Can I do it properly?”

“You can try.” Jaehyun angled your ass, moving out of you, only to slap his hips full force into you. It didn’t feel like pain. Pressure - yes, a lot of pressure that you’ve never felt before, stretching that made your core throb. You felt so full of your husband, ready to take thrusts of any power and force. You whined under his hold, every thrust of his hips making your breath hitch, pressure under every finger of his on your waist making your back arch back in want. You physically needed him to fill you up, you couldn’t care at this point in what way, as long as he was holding you in his arms. 

His little grunts were getting progressively more expressive, making him mess up the tempo every once in a while. Jaehyun pulled out, and you could tell he moved away from you with the way his palms left your skin. 

You tried to switch positions, get up from your now sore arms and turn to see his face. Jaehyun caught your arms with his, looping it around and pushing you towards him. So you’d get on your ass, while being half-way hostage in his hold and have no way to move your arms around. Mid-action Jaehyun put in extra care to make sure his tip lined up with you, sliding himself right into your slickness as you landed on his thighs. Filled to the brim with him. Just him, the condom disposed before the action. 

You moaned. 

The sound was so raw and sudden, you were convinced every other person that wasn’t asleep in the house heard it.

“Stop clenching around me.” Jaehyun grunted into your ear, mouth pressing into your jaw. “We won’t last five minutes, sweetheart.”

“Let me move.” You whimpered, trying to raise your hips up but struggling while your arms are locked in his hold.

“Okay baby, ride me.” Jaehyun let you go, lowering his back on the mattress, palms resting against the sheets. Your fingers gripped onto his thighs, wrapping around them firmly, using them as a prop for stability, raising your hips up in the slowest motion you could muster and sinking down with that same smooth, fluid motion. 

Up and down. 

Another one hollowing yourself and filling up, all in that slow, almost teasing pace that helped you keep your composure. You felt your insides grip onto him in an attempt to hold back, you weren’t able to do anything about it. It was either this, or spasming around him in literal five minutes. 

And you couldn’t let that happen. 

You haven’t felt him like that in a year. You’d like him to fill you up for the entirety of the night.

And you knew he’d do that if you just voiced out the need. 

Jaehyun’s fingers rested on your hips, his silent gesture for you to raise up the speed. 

You really couldn’t. Not with the way those thrusts made his tip press exactly into your g-spot, making your stomach grow heavier by the second with pleasure. 

“Baby, are you good?” Jaehyun patted your side. You were uncharacteristically quiet during the process, just your thighs meeting his, fingers gripping onto his knee. Now, that you bent a little further. Mouth letting out heavy sighs as you were building up your high. 

“Good.” You whispered.

“I can help you.” Jaehyun met you half way, forcing a grunt out both you and him. 

“I’m doing good.” You cried in protest.

“You are, baby. You are doing so good and it’s getting painfully hard to hold back from cuming. Watching you sink down on me is definitely my favourite show to watch, but my vision’s getting blurry.” Jaehyun’s fingers forced you down onto him roughly as he buckled his hips into yours once again. “Can I help us both? Get on your knees. Please, baby.” You almost sighed, it was probably the first time you haven’t seen his face during sex, not once felt his tongue in your mouth. And he was the man that usually said he couldn’t think of fucking any other way than missionary because he loves to see your face expressions. 

Maybe he’s changed his opinion, or what has changed is his feelings. 

You did as he asked bending forward, tangling your legs with his thighs and getting Jaehyun lift his hips right into you. Quick-paced thrusts that made your bed’s wood creak under pressure. 

Jaehyun moved his hips up, his fingers pushing your core closer to him. The pace he moved with made you absolutely dizzy, you had no thoughts properly forming in your head except for maybe how he was using all of his core strength to chase both his and yours highs. 

Your hips met his thrust half way up, helping him to pop that bubble of pressure in your stomach, until you felt yourself pool. Silent gasps and cries escaping through your mouth. Then, like a chain reaction Jaehyun’s thrust lost rhythm as your pussy gripped onto him mercilessly. You sank down feeling him spill, making slow thrusts to ride out his high.

Jaehyun stilled, letting his limbs fall off your lower back and onto the bed. Heavy breathing filling up the room. 

You needed to lie down too, attempting to roll over to the side. Jaehyun didn’t let you, his arms wrapping over your waist, forcing you to fall down onto his chest. Keeping himself inside of you. “Can I have your body weight on me for a little while?” Jaehyun mumbled against your skin, mouth pressing into your shoulder. 

“You can.” Your voice barely came out of your throat. “It’s the first time we’ve gotten intimate in over a year. And the first time we didn’t even take our clothes off properly.” Only now did you notice and feel, that you both had your shirts still on. You wouldn’t be too surprised if the sleeping trousers he wore weren’t properly off his body either. “First time I haven’t seen your face nor kissed your mouth. And we’ve been together for a decade. Is that supposed to mean something?” You questioned in a whisper. Jaehyun didn’t budge, it’s like he didn’t care about the emotional turmoil you were going through. “Jaehyun?” you called out his name, squeezing his forearm for a reaction. 

“I’m so tired.” He let out a loud sigh into your ear, mouth pressing into your jaw. “Sorry, sweetheart, did you say something? I got knocked out under you.” He yawned, you had no emotional capacity to comprehend wether he play pretended or not. You wanted to not feel his arms press into your stomach. 

You pulled onto them and freed yourself, sitting up and eventually moving away. Jaehyun let out an ‘ouch’ at your motion.

You just felt hollow, just like your heart did last few months, throwing the shorts on and hiding yourself in the bathroom. 

Rebound sex seemed to be a bitch.

-

You dreaded to open your eyes, but you knew you had to. Your mom had a very strict policy of no sleeping past 9 am, and you weren’t sure Jaehyun got up to shower after what you did and put his underwear on. Or if he put the condom away or it was laying somewhere next to the bed.

Your mom catching up on obvious signs of you having sex last night seemed worse than facing your husband, and you opened your eyes quickly, looking over the room. Your eyes fell onto the chair, surprised to find Jaehyun sitting in it. Feet up on the cushion, eyes trained on the phone while he obviously scrolled.

Good thing he was dressed. 

Though he was wearing his jeans and that made you let him know you were awake.

“Are you leaving?” Your voice sounded like you had nightmares of your husband having sex with you and handing you the divorce agreement right as you were cuming. Or did you really dream that? You needed to check your bedside table for pen and paper.

“Hm…no?” Jaehyun looked up from his phone confused. “Good morning to you too, though.”

“Why are you in your jeans at 8 am?” You frowned.

“Can’t I take a walk?” 

“I’m sorry for asking.” You folded immediately. You could still feel his fingers on your thighs, you were in no place of mind to fight. 

“Do you… feel okay?” He tip-toed over the topic. 

“I haven’t moved a limb, don’t know.” Jaehyun dropped his phone on the floor, making you anxious with the speed he crossed the room to get on your side of the bed. “Did you throw the condom away?” 

“I did, your mom’s been up since like 5:30 am. I heard her move around the house.” He gave you the weakest smile. 

“I see.” You sighed, wildly awkward of Jaehyun standing above you like you were on your deathbed. 

“Can you sit up?” He questioned, clearly concerned over your physical state. 

“Jae-.” You had to stop a chuckle. “We had sex, it’s not like I’m going to die after that. We had sex before. A lot of times.” You would like to not think of those times to not get yourself worked up. 

“Not like that though.” He gave you a brow. You wondered if he meant the physical way he did it, or your emotional state or something else.

“Is that the only thing that bothers you?” Not like, the fact we have not kissed during the process?

“That’s first priority.”

“Okay, I’m going to sit up.” You let him know, pulling yourself together to get up. Despite the tiresome state of your system. Jaehyun watched your face intently, looking for any sign of discomfort that could come. 

Okay, he might’ve been right. You didn’t feel perfectly fine, you felt sore, a little pain also followed in your thighs. Nothing you couldn’t endure anyway. Jaehyun read through discomfort that showed on your face for a split second.

“See.” He sighed knowingly, walking off the bed and returning with a bag in his hand. “I got you something.” He admitted quickly, reaching his fingers into the bag. “This is an electrolyte water. Also vitamin c.” He got two bottles out of the bag, expecting you to take them, so you did. “I didn’t know if it’s better with heat or cooling - I got a heat pack and this cooling spray just in case-.”

“At the convenience store?” You asked confused, you’ve never heard of cooling sprays at convenience stores, but then again - you never looked for them.

“Yes.” He let all of the things fall onto your lap. “And this mini croissants salt bread. Thought you might like it. It’s the new product, got on market while you were away.” The baby-blue pack fell onto your lap last. You looked at everything, overwhelmed with the fact Jaehyun cared for you as much as he did before. Despite the signs earlier. 

Or maybe he just wanted to be nice, patch up your bruises and get you to sign those papers while you’re touched by him?

“Thank you.” You could only muster, raising your eyes to see his face plastered with cute smile, that made both his dimples pop. He gave you a nod and turned around probably to get rid of the bag.

“Jaehyun…”

“Yes?” At the call of his name he was looking you in the eyes in a second. 

“I still don’t want that divorce to happen… I didn’t come back because the project got cancelled. It got cancelled, because I said I’m going back home. I asked for their understanding a long time ago. First, they told me I needed to assimilate, that I was just home sick and thus asked to be dismissed. I agreed, stayed another month, but it wasn’t going away. That sorrow and emptiness weren’t going anywhere. I told them I’m going back, but they pleaded me to stay just another month to find a substitute. Then a month stretched into two and three. I only was able to make it back to you now. I was sick this whole time, when you first actually send me the papers, I cried the whole week. I wanted to go back immediately, and I weren’t allowed to. I really fucked us up, you were right when you said I acted like the 10 years of us didn’t matter to me… because I don’t know what the fuck I was doing. I left and realised that the life I thought I was able to live, actually was unbearable without you. How funny is that? Expected myself to kill this whole thing, return back home to you and slide into our bed like nothing happened, when I clearly hurt you, and myself. I love you so much. I’m so sorry, what’s done cannot be undone, so I guess I am signing those papers. I can’t hold you back forever, just ask your lawyer to send one more copy to our apartment.” You sobbed defeated. 

“What?” Jaehyun sounded astonished, you raised your face to see him. Probably jumping in happiness. 

“I said I’ll sign those papers.” You repeated to his face. 

“You still want to get divorced? I thought we just had reconciliation sex and will move on?” He took multiple steps back to you. 

“Huh? I thought this was a goodbye?” “And why would I go to a convenience store at 7 am then?” Jaehyun furrowed his brows even deeper. 

“To get me on your good side… so I’d sign the agreement?” You told him what you took this as. 

“Are you… crazy? How did I even marry a crazy lady like you.” He chuckled in clear disbelief. 

“You didn’t kiss me once last night, didn’t even look me in the eyes once. What was I supposed to take this as?” It was your turn to frown. 

“Me fucking you from the back like I said I was gonna to.” He exclaimed louder than intended, having you shush him with your hands immediately. 

“I don’t understand, I’m sorry.” 

“You’re back for forever? This is not a holiday brake, right?” Jaehyun crossed the room. 

“No, I’m back for good.”

“I wanted a divorce not because I didn’t love you. I wanted a divorce because I didn’t want to hold you back here. If you were gonna settle in the US for three years, I didn’t want to be the anchor that pulled you back here. If you’re here, we should reconcile and not do the stupid thing. I love you.” He said in one quick breath. 

“You do?” “Of course, sweetheart. I always will.” Jaehyun kneeled in front of your half-sitting body.

“I love you too.” You admitted quickly. 

“Good, I guess now that we’re settled I can have my real kiss.” He pulled on your palms, bending your back towards him. Before his mouth could touch yours, you pulled back.

“But why? Why you didn’t kiss me last night? Can’t believe in what you said.”

“I told you when you were leaving. We are not having our last kiss. I weren’t sure, last night, that it won’t be the last time I kissed you, so I refrained. Now that I am sure, I don’t have a good reason to not do that.”

“Your brain is… insane?” You chuckled, but instead of letting him pull you down, forced him up and on top of you, sealing your mouths in the slowest twirl of your tongues. 

“Mom! They’re making you more grandkids!” Your sister forced the door wide open, not giving either of you a moment to react, or to let go of each other. 

“Close the door!” you growled, hiding Jaehyun’s face in the crook of your neck.

“I heard enough moans last night, can’t be listening to that while I’m having breakfast! Come on you two! Mom said breakfast’s ready. I’m giving you 45 seconds to pull your shit together or mom locks you two up to conceive that baby now!”

“Ew.” You made the loudest sound of disgust, Hyunjoo threw a towel she had in her hands towards you and closed the door. Jaehyun raised his head up looking at you with the wildest grin, face gone red as a tomato. 

“She heard everything.” Jaehyun let out a low chuckle out. “I’m not going there.” He rolled over onto his back.

“You are! I’m not facing my family after what she just said on my own!”

hope you enjoyed, any feedback is highly appreciated <3

[archivesctrccio]

natalie scatorccio x sensitive!gf

✎ᝰ.jinx notes just a few hcs i thought of randomly. my first time writing something here that isn't bots, i hope you like it <3

☪— If you have trouble letting things go, and always get nervous when it comes to getting a haircut, Natalie offers to always cut your hair at home. she always does everything very calmly, stopping every now and then to kiss away your tears and whisper that everything is okay.

☪— You once cried because you lost your favorite hair clip, and Natalie (having memorized which hair clip it was) immediately goes to buy you a new one. She doesn't try to pretend it's the same one, because she knows you hate lies and would notice the difference, and just tries to comfort you while giving you the new hair clip.

☪— Holds you at night because she knows you hate being cold/hate feeling alone while you sleep

☪— Loves to bring you flowers when she gets home from work on ordinary days, without a specific reason, but always gets worried when you start to cry with emotion at the affectionate gesture

"what's wrong, baby? you don't like it? :(" she always says with a tone full of concern, placing the flowers delicately on the table in the doorway and immediately going to gently cradle your face.

☪— After a complicated or stressful day, you two like to spend time together in the evening, when the world slows down. perhaps watching something quiet or just lying side by side, where natalie, with her more closed posture, finally allows you to come closer. you don't talk much, but there's a feeling that, in the silence, you understand each other completely.

☪— Natalie isn't one for words, so she communicates with you in very subtle ways. sometimes a touch on the arm, a longer look or a simple gesture like preparing her girlfriend's favorite coffee. you notice these details and respond with gestures of affection that make Natalie feel loved in a unique way. This creates a dynamic where your love is silent, but deep and very real.

☪— Natalie tends to be much more impulsive, aggressive and even withdrawn, while you are calm, more introspective and concerned about other people's feelings. This contrast between you makes for a perfect balance in the relationship: Natalie helps to bring out more intensity and passion, while you help to soften the sharper edges of Natalie's personality. you complement each other perfectly, almost like a yin and yang.

☪— Natalie, as tough as she is on the outside, has a deep vulnerability that you can touch. you help her to open her heart, to talk about her insecurities and her traumas, things that Natalie usually keeps to herself. you, with your empathy, never push, but over time, Natalie begins to trust more and more, showing that, as much as she wants to appear strong, she also needs someone to lean on.

(bottom divider by @strangergraphics)

[elisabethlauda]

The Start

@User567 No, because what do you mean Fred is leaving?! He is such an Icon!

@user440 Fred 😭 you will be missed greatly

@user421 rumours say that because of his weak immune system, travelling can be dangerous

@user2 replied to @user421 well it is good then that he decided to focus on his health

@user859 he was such an amazing tp

@user5 my heart can't take this! Poor Charles and Lewis

@user69 as sad as it is to see Fred leave, let's not forget that Ferrari still hasn't improved....

@user03 I wonder who will be the new TP

@user13 heard someone say Binotto is gonna be back again ☠️

@user925 Fred, you will always be remembered 🥰😇🙂‍↕️

@user63 OMG WHAT?!

@user2 this was not on my 2025 bingo list

@user90 FINALLY a female team principal

@user100 a Lauda as tp can only be a good thing

@user666 hell no, what do you mean a stupid woman will be the new boss? She probably only likes the sport because she thinks the drivers are hot

@user375 no way, she is so pretty

@user196 such a good decision

@user07 news say she graduated engineering and physics at the University of Vienna

@user53026 Niki would be so happy to see his granddaughter changing the F1 world

@charlesleclerc so happy to be working with such an amazing person! Forza Ferrari!

@lewishamilton this woman will create a path for many young women in Formula 1. So proud to be working with her #blessed

@danielricciardo we all know she is gonna change the paddock to a better place

@landonorris looks like Ferrari will start to be a real competition

@oscarpiastri finally a good decision. Congratulations to Lizzy for her new position 👏

@georgerussell I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we are very happy to have Lizzy among us and we will welcome her with open arms

@carmenmundt yes girl🥰 my wife is gonna be the hottest of them all

@kikagomes she's an icon. Ellie, can you please marry me ❤️💍😇

@carlossainz congratulations Senorita Lauda 🪅🥳

@maxverstappen simple lovely 👍

@kimiantonelli ahh, so happy! Please adopt me!!!

@oliverbearman mother? Sorry. Mother?

@rebeccadonaldson the most breathtaking person on earth has blessed us 💙 💖

@elisabethlauda my girls 🩷🩷🩷

@elisabethlauda so excited to be part of the Scuderria Ferrari. Changes are definitely coming our way...

Welcome to my first series. I hope you'll enjoy my stories. Some chapters will be related while others will be unrelated (the majorit). But all of them will play in the same universe. If you have any questions, you can always send me a message or write some requests

[stxrvel]

greatest (7)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. exbestfriends now public enemy no. 1 ot7 x f!reader for now content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, ANGST ANGST, around 8k words of emotions, a LOT of feelings to unpack (A LOT), a lot of text too, i'm sorry for that. a/n. guys omg. i can't believe this. i dont even have the words. i'm just sorry and hope you really like this chapter! i'll be waiting for your comments :')

series masterlist | bts masterlist | previous | next

I'm trying my best.

No one knows. No one needs to know. They don't have to know. I don't even have to be so aware of it.

But I'm trying my best.

Was your best effort... enough?

I have to do the right thing. I have to do what's best for me. Why do I have to do the right thing if it's not what's best for me? What if what's best for me isn't the right thing?

Who could make a good decision?

Anyone would make a worse one than the last.

I just wanted compassion. And I waited... I waited too long for it.

Sending the message wasn't as difficult as you had thought. You were still angry, clearly; you still felt betrayed and suspicious of their intentions, definitely; you still intended to keep your distance, of course. Despite all that, you found a window to observe the scene objectively: the scene where you kept circling around a well, worried because you were thirsty and couldn't reach the water at the bottom, while the rest of the people kept walking by with bottled water. The scenario you perhaps needed; the grotesque and ordinary reality check that might allow you to be a little more mature.

There was no intention to forgive in your heart at that moment. There was something that still held back those emotions and did not welcome those thoughts. Whether it was their audacity or the need to maintain your dignity, you did not know. But there were other steps you could take in the meantime.

The number of events, and specifically that conversation with Dohyun, led you to consult with your pillow about a number of scenarios, events, occurrences, and conversations that had never happened, but were alternatives to the number of decisions you could make now.

You were facing a road with four thousand paths to the same place.

Healing.

Whether you wanted to go through the dark forest, the ocean, the desert, or the countryside was up to you.

But making a good decision was not in the cards. Whatever you chose, there could always be something better or worse. All you wanted at that moment was to be guided by the need your heart expressed; perhaps for the first time in a long time, you didn't think it was too crazy.

Taehyung was one of the people who supported you the most in your dream of becoming a writer, which is why he must've been motivated to make that crazy decision to expose you to the public (against your will). Not the right one, but a decision nonetheless. Jungkook was one of your closest friends because you were closest in age, which is why it made sense that he would be the most daring of them all and make the extreme decision to see you in person (against your will, like a stalker, it should be noted). Not the right one, but a decision nonetheless. Jin was always like an older brother to you, a constant support, a shoulder to lean on, which is why it would be obvious that he would try to use his connections to help you fulfill your dream (yes, you know, against your will). Not the right one, but a decision nonetheless.

A simple decision that can always change everything. Good or bad, who can really know when making it? When what runs through your body is nostalgia, a forgotten love buried deep in your soul, an unforgettable and unforgivable longing, a devastating silence, the need to want to change things. The desire to make up for something.

You were no exception to the rule. What human being didn't make mistakes? You were clearly the most affected by their decisions; by whatever had happened ten years ago that you didn't know about, and by what was happening now. Stepping aside probably wouldn't solve anything. It was as if Pandora's box had been opened. Trying to distance yourself only brought them closer, and the path your life was taking now didn't seem to take you as far away from them as you wanted.

It turns out that the less you want something, the more you attract it.

“You know I don't interfere in your decisions, sweetheart.”

Your mom was cleaning the kitchen. She'd had her nails done a few days ago, you had sent her the money: but there she was, scrubbing the tiles, using rags to clean the tables, dipping them in the water that had accumulated in the large pots. Without a hint of regret, without disgust or displeasure... just doing what she had to do (and what she wouldn't let you do, no matter how much you insisted).

Maybe because you cried too much. Or because your mother knew you better than anyone else in the world and knew that you couldn't bear to show yourself vulnerable in front of others, no matter who they were. Your mom was one of the exceptions, because there was no one else, not even your father or Seojun, who had seen you at your lowest point like she had.

“But... how do I know... if that was... the right thing to do...?”

It was early morning. Really early. You had been crying in the kitchen after sending the message. Your mother woke up and decided to go downstairs to get a drink; instead, she found her daughter on the kitchen island with her face pressed against the marble and a pool of tears and saliva around her. There were no words, they weren't necessary. She moved around the kitchen after squeezing your shoulder and cooked one of your favorite dishes from when you were little.

Maybe it was the sound of the utensils clattering, or the boiling water, or the mesmerizing smell that made your stomach growl at two in the morning, you weren't sure; but in the midst of so many comforting imaginary hugs, you stopped crying and were able to tell your mom what had been going on.

Your voice was still breaking up after you had eaten and stopped crying. Bringing up the subject at this level of vulnerability still made you sensitive.

“No one can tell you what's right or wrong, darling. Do what your heart tells you to do. If you feel that this is the way you can rest, do it. But with a clear conscience. You're not betraying yourself, you're fighting for yourself.”

The kitchen already looked spotless, but your mother continued to wipe the kitchen counter with blue rags, still with her back to you.

“Lift your chin, go get what you need; tear them down if necessary, and heal yourself.”

“Mom...” you whined, dropping your head back onto the counter, the cold marble sending shivers through your body.

“Never regret the decisions you make. They make you who you are. They are what have shaped you all these years. They are what have brought you this far.”

With a full stomach, sleep began to overwhelm you. You knew your mom was right. Maybe not many people would be convinced, but you were. That was enough. It was what you wanted. You had to convince yourself that you weren't trying to excuse them for the stupid, confusing emotions you still had and that you would eventually give up; you had to be sure that you were doing this for yourself and not for them; you had to know that you weren't looking for forgiveness, just an explanation. That would be all and nothing more.

“If in a couple of years your heart feels it can find forgiveness for them after knowing the truth of what happened, then you will make the decision at that time.”

Not the right one, but a decision.

Surely other people could move on by forgetting; by ignoring. And maybe you would have, if all those decisions hadn't been made. If they hadn't tried to come back into your life, for whatever reason, maybe someday in twenty years you would've thought about them and laughed.

Maybe ten years was enough time for some. For you, it was the blink of an eye. As if it were yesterday. Ten years of unforgivable silence. Ten years of a wound, a deep pit.

“But you're not looking for that now, are you?”

Your mother turned on her heel, the rag forgotten and her arms akimbo. She looked stern, as she knew you preferred when you had these moments, but in her eyes it was clear that she felt as sensitive as you did.

You shook your head in denial, calmer, a little more relaxed.

Emotional repression really was a serious problem.

“Then stop worrying. Go get what you want and that's it.”

It was so annoying when the simplest things ended up being the truest. You rolled your eyes, but your lips curved into a smile and your mother mimicked your gesture.

“Now, let's go to sleep before either of those two wake up.”

“I highly doubt it,” you smiled, letting your mother put her arm around your shoulders as you held onto her waist to walk back to the second floor. “Seojun has all of dad's genes. They snore like a tractor and wouldn't wake up even if there was an earthquake.”

Your mother laughed out loud. The kitchen lights went out and darkness welcomed you once again, but you didn't feel like anything was missing at that moment. Maybe you had never felt brighter.

Tomorrow would be another day. Another opportunity. Definitely another decision to face the world.

Surrounded by a bunch of people who were also deciding, for better or worse, how to face their own world every day.

-

Jin always hoped that silence would welcome him when he got home. His chaotic job and the amount of movement he had to deal with during the day were exhausting enough to make him want to come home and melt into the darkness of his room until he had to return the next day. Although Jin had already made a name for himself in medicine in his country and was a renowned cardiologist working at one of the most prestigious hospitals and university centers in the country, that didn't mean he didn't suffer from the exhaustion of the hectic life of medicine.

That's why arriving home and being greeted by nothing but a breeze was music to his ears. The voices began to fade and his shoulders relaxed.

Jin sighed.

I have to try. I have to try...

This time, the sound came from the living room. It didn't take him long to find them once he crossed the hallway leading from the entrance to the main room, where the giant television glowed and made the heads of those lying in front of it on the large gray couch, one of the first they had bought for that large apartment, shine.

If their heads recognized the sound of keys when he entered, the lock when he closed the door, or his heavy footsteps with wet soles when he arrived, none of them showed it. They were all determined to keep their eyes on the television, on the most famous talk show in the United States, where Jungkook was performing that night.

Jin had clearly not forgotten that performance. In fact, he had tried to rearrange his schedule as much as possible to be able to watch it on time. How could he not support Jungkook? But standing there, behind the others who hadn't even noticed his presence, he felt something in his body holding him back from moving forward.

Yes, they all had talked the night before. And yes, they were supposed to have parted on good terms. Jin assumed he was capable of looking past their misunderstandings, like the incredibly functional adult he was; like the eldest in that house who set an example. But the truth was that sometimes he ended up being the most immature of them all, the most emotionally constipated, and the one who had the hardest time letting go of resentment. That's why he felt like his feet were planted on the ground.

As the eldest, Jin worked hard during his adolescence and early adulthood to earn the prestigious name he now had in medicine in his country, all with the goal of being a great provider, an anchor, to ensure a secure and peaceful future for everyone; for his family. And his work cost him too much, one of which was increasing the distance between him and the others in that house.

Jin had achieved the stability he wanted, but at a very high cost.

His gaze moved from head to head, then settled on the figure on the screen.

It hadn't been long since Jungkook released that song, and it had already broken some streaming records.

It was a surprise to a few that, of all his options, he finally decided to release that song.

Taehyung was sitting on the edge of the couch, with Yoongi and Hoseok settled on the other side. There was no sign of Namjoon or Jimin anywhere in the room. Jin looked around, but all the other lights were off. It was around ten o'clock at night. Where could they be, if they weren't watching the performance in the living room? Had they argued again?

Jin held back a sigh and leaned against the wall so he could watch Jungkook, not feeling very inclined to approach the couch if another argument had broken out between them. He didn't want to be the center of the discussion again, much less fan the flames of a fire that might already be smoldering among the ashes. It had been too difficult for him to work on his relationship with others again, to try to keep the bond intact, especially when he had such a demanding job that didn't allow him to be close enough to end up ruining things with his recurring bad temper and reckless comments.

“Ah... Jungkookie is a first-rate artist.” Taehyung commented, followed by murmurs of agreement from the others.

Jin smiled. He was proud of how far Jungkook had come. Although everyone had recently had their ups and downs, this was something that nothing and no one could ruin. He was proud that everyone had worked hard to fulfill their dreams and together had achieved what they wanted.

Together...

The presentation ended and Jin blinked. He heard Hoseok's exclamation when the shot quickly cut to Jungkook's face and caught sight of his crystallized eyes. It was nothing new. Jin had accompanied the youngest a couple of times to the studio when he was recording this song, accompanied by the siamese or just the two of them. They were probably the only ones who had gone through the entire process of constructing the song with him.

It was very sentimental. A painful regret. Jin believed it was a true display of grief and sorrow. A wish to the air and the empty sky to turn back time. A confession that falls on deaf ears, like shouting in the middle of the desert. An absurd hope.

A reflection, perhaps, of the thoughts of seven people in a single song.

“Was he crying?” Hoseok turned to look at Yoongi, his expression upset and his eyes worried. “We have to call him.”

“It always happens to him with that song.” Taehyung sounded resigned, now leaning back in his chair as the program credits rolled. “Let's wait for him to text us that he's at the hotel. He must be feeling overwhelmed right now.”

“Is that song about who I think it's about?” Yoongi, always asking the right questions, turned to look at Taehyung, accompanied by a confused look from Hoseok.

Taehyung looked back at him but didn't answer. Jin, his arms crossed over his chest, watched the interaction until Yoongi became lost in his own thoughts and Hoseok took out his phone, perhaps to reread the lyrics.

Maybe this was the only Jungkook song that not everyone had heard before it was released.

Jin felt his phone vibrate in his pants pocket and moved to finally leave the room and head to his bedroom. If he fell asleep at that moment, he would have at least five hours to sleep peacefully. He had achieved his purpose for the day, and that was enough.

He couldn't deny, however, that he felt bad about walking away like that without talking to them. The logical part of his brain told him he should just do it without thinking too much about it, but the other part, the one that was too sentimental and anxious, only reminded him of the distance and the chasm he himself had dug between them and prevented him from getting closer, from building a bridge to see them. He didn't deserve it. Not now.

Yoongi sank into the armchair, his mind lost in speculation. Taehyung's silence was pressing, and that only made him begin to consider how many other things the others knew and did that they sometimes didn't share with anyone. It wasn't that they always told each other every secret, nor was it a condition of their friendship to do so, but this... that song seemed too deep for everyone.

Sighing, Yoongi knew there was no room for reproach or anything like that, far from it. He would read the lyrics later in bed, as Hoseok was doing at that moment, and then he would fall asleep with a heavy heart. What did it matter?

He turned off the TV and the house finally fell silent.

He no longer felt Jin's presence behind them.

“What time were the others coming home?” Yoongi tried to bring them back to the present.

Taehyung blinked and watched him get up, moving toward the kitchen.

“Namjoon said not to wait for them.”

Yoongi hummed in agreement.

“Did they say what they were going to do, hyung?”

Hoseok shook his head in response, locking his phone and setting it down on the small table in front of the couch, his lips pressed into a line and his gaze fixed on some point on the table. Yoongi returned with a glass of cold water and watched them, Taehyung twisting his lips and frowning, as if trying to telepathically figure out where his twin was.

“It must be something important,” Yoongi commented simply, shrugging when Taehyung gave him an inquiring look.

“And if it's important, why wouldn't they tell us?”

“Don't start. You get like this every time Jimin does something without you.”

“That's not true!”

“It's true, Taehyungie.”

Taehyung barely grunted in response, crossing his arms over his chest. Yoongi needed to go to bed early so he could get up early to finish his new album tomorrow. He had everything ready and would already be in bed if it weren't for Jungkook's presentation that happened to coincide with that night. He would wait for him to confirm in the group chat that he was already in his room before drifting off to sleep that night. He wouldn't think about anything but his work.

Or at least he would try.

Because, if he had to be honest, he felt as curious as Taehyung. With the number of unwanted events that had occurred in recent days, he couldn't help but think that the unexplained disappearance of those two could be suspicious. Although everyone had already come to some kind of agreement, the truth was that when it came to a specific person, none of them could think clearly.

Yoongi looked up when he heard the sound of keys against the front door. Hoseok turned to look, and Taehyung got up from the couch and started toward the entrance.

“Where were you guys? You didn't say— oh, hi, hyung.”

Namjoon appeared in the living room. He looked tired, as always, especially these last few days, and Yoongi recognized it with a heavy heart. He was practically the one who had taken the lead without anyone ever asking him to; the one who always looked out for everyone and did the impossible to get them where they were now. He was the one who always made the toughest decisions and the only one who tried to include everyone in the decision-making process when other people looked over their shoulders.

They had been lucky to meet someone like Namjoon.

Yoongi watched him walk, in his socks, with his briefcase in his right hand and his jacket in his left, his eyes so small from sleep that it looked like he was already asleep as he walked toward them. More recently than ever, as far as Yoongi knew, Namjoon was no longer sleeping as well as he used to. He didn't want to say it was because of recent events, because if anything was certain, it was that Namjoon carried a huge burden of guilt that had never let him sleep well.

But both he and Hoseok were the ones who kept it hidden the most, for the sake of everyone in that house. To try to maintain unity. To prevent what they had worked so hard to bring together since that cold winter from falling apart again.

“I couldn't make it to Jungkook's presentation. I saw it on the way here.” Namjoon dropped his things on the couch and then himself, running his hands over his face in a gesture of exhaustion. Yoongi watched Taehyung circle the furniture and repeated in his head the question he knew he was going to ask the older man.

“And Jimin?”

For some reason, Namjoon froze. He removed his hands from his face and looked at Tae as if he had just told him that his whole life had been a dream. Taehyung noticed his strange look and frowned.

“Jimin?” Now Namjoon looked worried. He went from surprise to controlled panic, only as he knew how to do it. He sat down slowly on the couch and looked at each of those present. Hoseok shook his head, informing him that he didn't know anything about the blond either. “We split up a while ago because he said he had things to do. I thought he was already here.”

“No, he's not here.”

Namjoon turned to look at Yoongi when he answered, the anguish he was trying to suppress overflowing from his face. By that point, everyone had realized that it wasn't a good sign that Jimin wasn't in the penthouse at that moment. Yoongi could guess the reason behind it, but he didn't like the direction his conjectures were taking. From the stern way Namjoon was looking at him, how his features hardened, Yoongi could only conclude that, sadly, he was right.

How could they not have realized that before? Maybe Jimin was the one they should be most worried about.

“If Jimin isn't here and he wasn't with you... where is he?”

Hoseok asked, tilting his head, his features cautious, as if he were about to reach the same conclusion as Yoongi and wanted Namjoon to confirm otherwise.

Taehyung just put his hands to his head, distancing himself from the group.

“Shit!”

-

Yuna wasn't someone who hid things for malicious purposes. Many things in her life had taught her when to talk about something and when it was better to remain silent, waiting, giving the other person space to open up at their own pace, to build trust, because emotions and trauma were very difficult to process.

Yuna didn't know for sure, but she had a feeling that you had gone through some kind of shocking event in your life that had left an emotional mark on you. She knew this from the dry, resentful way you spoke to her when you first met; from the way you interacted with people, with your coworkers; she knew it from how you never trusted anyone, from how you kept very superficial relationships with people, and because the only reason you were still friends was because Yuna hadn't left you, because she had never crossed your boundaries, because she had proven herself worthy of your trust... because she had never asked too many questions.

When it came to you, Yuna learned to tread lightly, and although it sounded awful, although anyone outside your relationship who could see it from the outside would think it was an attitude derived from her friend's selfishness, she couldn't simply try to fight that instinct that had been born out of a traumatic experience. How could she confront someone so inhumanely?

Yuna used to wonder a lot what situation could've caused that kind of mistrust in you. More recently, Yuna wondered if her conjectures could be true.

“What are you going to do?”

“I can't give you any details...”

You don't want to. Yuna bit her tongue.

Being on the receiving end of this type of relationship prevented anyone from being morally or ethically right or wrong in any of the positions you decided to take to confront it.

Let us consider these scenarios:

You could be downright evil, in which case it would cost you nothing to attack with questions about the subject that was clearly sensitive to the distrustful person, but you could, subjectively, justify it as your “right” to an answer: Am I not worthy enough of your trust? Haven't we come this far because you trust me, or is that not enough?

Then, you could be understanding, empathetic, extremely permissive, regardless of the blow and pain caused by knowing that the person you considered unconditional in your life does not feel the same way about you after so long.

On the other hand, you can be objectively empathetic, simply go with the flow, make decisions, keep up with the pace of life, knowing that everyone resolves things in their own way, respecting boundaries from a neutral standpoint and knowing that there is nothing that can be done about it.

Everything was subjective.

Yuna, for her part, believed she belonged to the third group that would never pressure, that would not try to force answers out, and that would never feel resentment for the other person's lack of trust because it was never personal, it was an instinctive response to a traumatic experience.

Even though with each passing year everything felt heavier and heavier. When she was not welcome in vulnerable moments and could only offer support through a screen, without knowing if that was what was needed or if it was enough, because she didn't have enough knowledge of the context. When she had to be the target of misdirected anger, which couldn't be directed anywhere else because it was stuck at the bottom of a broken heart that had been left alone for so long. When she couldn't support you at every moment, because the moments when she had been able to glimpse that heartbreaking vulnerability were fleeting, as fleeting as a blink of an eye, so short that she had to ask herself several times if it had really happened.

That's how it was the last time, when she found you crying in the cellar as soon as you came back from lunch.

Yuna would never pressure you. Yuna would never demand answers. Yuna never mentioned seeing Jeon Jungkook's depressed face on the other side of the door through the small window in the storage room, which was right in front of her when she entered the room and found you on the floor, because it wasn't her place to seek those answers. It wasn't her life, it wasn't her feelings, and it was certainly a decision not to take it personally, because it wasn't.

That's why she felt concerned when you told her you were going to meet someone to face something you should've gotten over long ago. Yuna felt that you were going to encounter something that could shock you; something you might not be ready to face yet. Anyone would say she was overreacting, but Yuna knew your mannerisms very well in those moments of anxiety.

Nevertheless...

There was a guilt that haunted her. And Yuna was not someone who hid things with malicious intent, no. She knew she was in no position to demand explanations. But maybe many of those things had been her fault. Maybe whatever was going on could've been quickly stopped and disappeared if she hadn't gotten in the way. She didn't think, of course, that it would backfire so soon.

Yuna knew she had made many mistakes in her life, and perhaps hiding what happened that afternoon in the cafeteria had been one of the worst.

“And you have to go alone?”

“Well... if it's something from my past, it's something I should face on my own, don't you think?”

“Well, yes... there are things that can only be overcome by facing them. But that doesn't mean you have to put yourself in a situation you're not ready for...”

Yuna almost cringed when you stopped and turned to look at her with a frown. She hated the feeling that ran through her body, with your eyes asking her if she was really trying to cross that line; if she really wanted to venture to keep asking. Yuna wanted to bite her tongue, because she knew what kind of situation pressing further would lead to, and her instincts told her that she had to avoid that confrontation at all costs, but it seemed that the fear and uncertainty she felt about how the whole situation might affect you was much greater.

Her real question now was: what was she willing to sacrifice?

"I've been running away from that for many years. I think this is a good opportunity to end it all at the root."

Your words echoed in reflection, in the internal perception that this was a completely rational decision and, above all, that it left no room for rebuttal or contradiction. Yuna understood this from your words, your tone of voice, and the (maybe) upset look you were trying hard to hide. She felt her chest constrict, as if someone were crushing her ribs and cutting off her breath. What could she do? What should she do? How far could she go? What should she say?

Did what you were going to do... have anything to do with the result of something she had done?

Yuna wasn't someone who hid things with malicious intent; Yuna was not someone who lied, much less someone who wanted to cause pain to the people she loved. But Yuna was someone who made mistakes, someone who made bad decisions, and someone who, deep down in her heart, feared losing the people closest to her because of those bad decisions. Yuna was someone who constantly carried regrets and low self-esteem, which she usually hid behind the impartial role she played in people's lives. Yuna would never hurt a family member, friend, or loved one on purpose with her actions; she would never hide something from them that would cause them great pain...

Or so she wanted to believe.

Because now, with her heart in her throat and her breath short, looking at you ready to walk out that door, pushed into a reality that perhaps you didn't yet have to face, Yuna could see that many of her beliefs were beginning to crumble.

Perhaps she was someone who deliberately hid things, causing long-term collateral damage; as if slowing down time before detonating a grenade. Perhaps she was someone who consciously made bad decisions and then worried every day about their consequences. Perhaps she was a complacent person; fearful of the loneliness of rejection.

Perhaps Yuna had malicious behaviors. Intentional or not, she had them.

And that didn't make her as good a person as she wanted to believe. It made her doubt herself. Think twice about her next words. Question her ideals. Practice her steps. Repeat the words of others in her head. Plan a response to each accusation; a justification she knew would have no basis and would never be accepted—

“Yuna.”

“Huh?”

“Don't worry so much,” you said, already wearing your jacket and carrying a small white bag over your left shoulder. Your hand was on her shoulder, the physical contact completely taking her out of her head, realizing she had wasted valuable minutes overthinking. Unlike a couple of minutes ago, your eyes were a little warmer and your expression became a little kinder.

“I don't want you to be alone.”

She barely whispered it, but she knew you had heard her clearly.

What would happen now?

You dropped your hand, your expression becoming indescribable in a matter of seconds. It seemed like you were processing her words, no different from what you would have heard on any other day when Yuna tried to comfort you. But as always, Yuna expected you to smile and downplay the situation, your feelings, putting up that invisible emotional wall and taking away the chance for that friendship to blossom into something different; into something more unconditional.

“I don't think it's something you need to be so worried about, really.”

The words she was hoping for were there.

“Doesn't this have something to do with your attitude over the last few days?”

Yuna blurted out the words without even taking a moment to make sure they were the right ones, and even though her body froze and her nerves froze too when you stopped halfway to the door, she continued talking without thinking twice.

“I know you're trying to hide it, but you look more tired every day. And I know it's more than just the books. Why don't you...?” Yuna swallowed, finding that she preferred to have you in front of her rather than face the uncertainty of your reaction to her words with your back to her. She took a deep breath, cursing how much an issue that might be trivial to many people affected her, and fearing the fact that she believed she might actually be the one to lose the most from this conversation. Still, she didn't want to continue standing idly by. “Why don't you want to tell me? I... I'm your friend. I'm here to support you. You can tell me anything—”

“Stop.”

Your voice was sharp.

But Yuna's erratic heart calmed down a little when you took a deep breath, and when you turned around, she realized that your expression wasn't as upset as she thought. It was something else... a little annoyed, hopeless, like someone who was also hiding things, but only things that affected herself.

“You're right. I'm sorry.”

...

“Huh?”

"This is something I wanted to forget at all costs. And I tried. So much time had passed that I truly believed I had gotten over it. But recently I've realized that everything is still very fresh and that no matter how hard I try, even if I want to convince myself that I feel that peace, I'll never really feel it until I can put an end to this once and for all. Every time I've felt that I can move on... that I can heal, I've encountered another obstacle and another problem and more... uncertainty that won't let me rest. I haven't been able to rest. That's why I want to do this. I need to do this. I feel like it's... the only way."

Yuna swallowed hard, unable to take her eyes off the vulnerable expression on your face. She swore she had never seen so many emotions on your face, except when you talked about your books. Her head seemed to be overheating, wondering if what she had just heard was really true.

“I promise that when I come back, I'll tell you everything.”

Confidence. Overflowing confidence was what came from you, what Yuna could see in your eyes and in the sincere smile you gave her. And while it was what she most wanted to hear from you, she couldn't find relief within herself. On the contrary, her guilt intensified, and she knew her face was betraying her, but she couldn't control it. What was she supposed to say now? What would you say if you found out? Would you keep smiling like nothing was wrong and tell her that everything was going to be okay? Would you turn your back on her, calling her a traitor? Was Yuna now worthy of that trust?

“Stop worrying.”

Yuna felt worse when she realized that you had taken her internal dilemma as an expression of her continued concern about what you were going to do, and a lump formed in her throat. God, why did she have to be such a coward?

“Call me if you need anything. And let me know when you arrive and when you leave.”

That was all Yuna could say. She felt breathless, waiting for the worst to happen at any moment; for you to turn around and point the finger at her as the culprit, as the traitor, as someone who hurt her deliberately. All the things she never wanted to be and now couldn't help but see when she looked at her reflection in your eyes.

“Okay. See you later.”

Yuna stood in the middle of the room with her mind blank and her gaze fixed on the door you had closed behind you. The silence was devastating. Her inner turmoil grew as time passed, and she had no idea what to do. Worse still, she began to wonder what would happen if you found out from someone else. Were her days already numbered? Why hadn't she said anything before? Why had she kept quiet? If she hadn't, maybe she could've avoided some of this, spared you some discomfort, prevented you from feeling so hopeless that you no longer knew what to do to find peace...

Perhaps because she had started to hyperventilate, she hadn't noticed who had opened the door after a couple of minutes.

“What's wrong?”

Yuna blinked and Seojun materialized in front of the entrance, frowning. Yuna stared back at him, paralyzed, and tried to compose herself as quickly as possible. She didn't know how long she had been standing there or how long he might've seen her in that trance. She closed and opened her fists at her sides and tried to relax her shoulders, feigning a more carefree look.

“Nothing. What are you doing here?”

Seojun looked at her suspiciously as he left his shoes at the entrance and slipped into the slippers his mother always left next to hers for when he came to visit. He was wearing a large jacket and carrying several bags in both arms. His frown didn't leave him even when he was standing in front of her.

“I bought dinner. But I don't think there's enough food for you.”

Yuna raised her eyebrows, appreciating the moment to distract herself for a second, knowing she couldn't show that vulnerability so easily, and looked between your brother and the number of bags he was carrying. “Are you insane? You're carrying the equivalent of a month's worth of groceries. You selfish idiot!”

Seojun rolled his eyes at her and, ignoring her, walked past her toward the kitchen. While calling out to his parents, Yuna took a moment to truly calm down. It was very difficult to try to have a normal conversation with her nerves on edge and her emotions about to overflow from her heart; she had to control herself or someone would notice something and she would lose everything. Especially someone like Seojun, who, although he seemed to be the most distracted and disinterested person in the world, was actually very picky and observant; Yuna knew this because the more time she spent with him, the more she realized that he was overly perceptive, especially with other people's emotions, even though he tried to give the opposite impression.

He was also very suspicious, seeming to distrust everyone, but only when it came to his family. It seemed to be something that ran in the blood of everyone here.

Anyway, she just had to take a deep breath. She still had to come up with a solution; she had to make a decision... she had to think it through carefully before acting.

“Noona!!” Seojun shouted again from the kitchen, and at that moment Yuna took one last deep breath before turning around and facing life once more.

“Stop yelling like a madman. y/n left.”

“What? Where?”

“What do you care?”

“You can't eat her food!” Seojun gave Yuna's hand a light slap when she tried to take the package of dumplings, and she just laughed in response.

“Well, do whatever you want, kiddo. We'll see what your parents say about it.”

Seojun grumbled silently. Yuna enjoyed watching him set the table, which didn't happen as often as one might think. She wondered why he had brought so much food and why he had left his college dorm on a Thursday night.

“Didn't y/n say where she was really going?”

“If you want, call her,” Yuna replied, grabbing a snack as his parents came down from the second floor.

“Argh,” Seojun shot her an annoyed look, deciding to leave the four plates on the table anyway. “Well, noona is always careful.”

Yuna watched him silently, lost in her own worries. At that moment, she received a message from you informing her that you had arrived at your destination safe and sound. Now she just had to wait for you to text her that you were on your way back, and hopefully everything would be fine. That way, Yuna would only have to worry about the things that had already happened and not about what could get worse if that didn't work out.

Was she being selfish? Thoughtless? A bad friend?

Good God. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

“Can you turn on the TV?”

Yuna shook her head and quickly moved to steal a dumpling from Seojun before running to the living room. With his reprimanding voice in the background, Yuna smiled and grabbed the white remote to change the channel that her parents always listened to while they ate dinner, the seven o'clock news.

“...it was just released a couple of hours ago, but it's already hovering around fifty million views on YouTube.”

Yuna left the TV on as background noise while everyone gathered at the table for dinner. She definitely wanted to stop thinking, to try to enjoy that moment with a sincere heart and not with the guilt of a mistake she wanted to attribute to bad faith.

“... his presence on our show is welcome, as always. This is ‘Still with You’ by Jungkook.”

Yuna let herself be carried away by the conversation.

That day, that moment If I had known it would be like this I would've kept more of them in my memories...

-

Jimin knew he had bad impulses, terrible behavior, and an unhealthy need to please. It was the result of bad habits, perhaps traumas he didn't usually dwell on, and his tendency to be self-conscious. Lately, he hadn't thought too much about those kinds of things. He kept them locked away in a worn chest at the back of his mind, on an island in the middle of a vast ocean. Impossible to reach, even for his own mind.

But with all these recent events... it seemed as if the ocean had dried up.

Anxiety was eating away at him. Perhaps it had been since that day several years ago when he made a crucial decision that turned out to be in vain. His opinion didn't matter; his complaints, his pleas... the tears that would break anyone's heart. Nothing mattered. What was the point of giving someone the ability to decide if everything would ultimately turn against him? What was the purpose of that unfounded hope? To leave everything to chance, to believe that everyone would think like him, that they would have the same dream, the same need.

No. Jimin was left alone. Betrayed. With a resentful and fearful heart.

Jimin didn't want to dare to say he knew how you felt... but maybe he knew at least a quarter of it.

All that, however, wasn't the only thing. That his decision wasn't decisive and that it led him to carry years of anger and resentment wasn't a convincing enough excuse or justification. After all, Jimin had made other decisions he was not proud of. There were still things he was ashamed to remember or even acknowledge.

Staying was one of the most difficult decisions he had ever made. It was also the one he regretted the most.

And if he had left, that would also have been the most difficult decision of his life and the one he would regret the most forever.

Jimin felt that he had grown up in a very unstable world. Each person lived their own experiences and developed their own personalities based on them. Each experience was a trait. For Jimin, there was hardly a moment in his life when he had not experienced anxiety, despair, and unease. Every day he regretted something different, more than he was grateful for the things he had. His decisions had given him as much as they had taken away, but he knew that if he had made the opposite decisions, he would be thinking exactly the same thing.

Even so... Jimin gave it his best shot.

Despite everything, despite the bad decisions, the ones he regretted, the things he had done and the things he hadn't done, Jimin had to keep going. He had to swallow the bitter pill of the reality he had shaped for himself and keep walking the path he had carved out. And with the best of smiles. If no one saw that he was having a hard time, no one around him would have a hard time.

And if he could prevent someone else from having a hard time, as hard as he had ten years ago, then he would do what he thought was right.

Whether it was a good or bad decision, it was the one he had made, because he believed it was the right thing to do.

His phone vibrated on the table. He looked at the time with a sinking heart. It was past eight.

The restaurant was empty. Only Jimin was there with his regrets.

When Namjoon had told him the night before that he couldn't accept his invitation to meet you, his world had fallen apart once again. He had a golden opportunity! Why did he have to waste it? How would Namjoon know it wouldn't be good? And he wouldn't be breaking his promise because he wasn't the one who initiated the meeting, and because Namjoon was smart enough to know that he wouldn't listen to him.

... right?

Be that as it may, Jimin accepted your invitation. With Namjoon or without Namjoon, he would be there. At the expense of the others... definitely. That didn't sound good at all when Jimin returned to that thought every seven minutes; how would the others react if they knew where he was, what he was going to do, and how he hadn't told them?

That was one regret.

The excuse Jimin kept repeating to himself wasn't really valid, but he did it because deep down he felt he had made the right decision. Maybe he wouldn't leave here as your best friend, but if he could get even a quarter of your attention to give you what he had wanted to give and do ten years ago, he could die happy leaving that restaurant.

Namjoon had already texted him about four times. Jimin kept looking at his phone, hoping that one of those notifications would be from you, telling him that you were on your way, that you were close, that you were almost there—

“Mr. Park.”

One of the waiters called him. The blond quickly looked up in his direction, scanning the place and the scene, hoping to find a familiar face.

“Your guest has arrived. We will begin serving dinner.”

“Wait. Where is she?”

The waiter pointed behind him and then walked away toward the kitchen. Jimin had gotten up from the table, his hand outstretched when he asked, and it began to tremble in the air. He swallowed quickly, trying to calm his heart, trying to convince himself again that he wasn't wrong, that what he was doing wasn't wrong if you wanted to be here too. He clenched his hand into a fist and brought it to his chest, forcing his body to even out his breathing and sink the anxiety that was beginning to constrict his lungs.

He looked where the waiter had pointed, a curve that prevented him from seeing beyond. This was one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, located on a high hill that offered a serene view of the city. It was built in an oval shape, and Jimin had reserved the entire place for that night. But he had to go around that curve to find you, and suddenly he felt as if his feet were glued to the ground. The red carpet that guided the main path around the restaurant, joining at each end, had never felt so terrifying.

But he could hear your footsteps getting closer and closer. Slow. Calm. It seemed like you were admiring the place.

That sound allowed him to take a deep breath.

He tried to repeat to himself that he wasn't doing anything wrong. That he wasn't being selfish. That he wouldn't care if they bombarded him with questions when he got to the penthouse later.

He tried to convince himself that he was making the right decision.

For you. For him. For everyone.

“Jimin.”

But he wasn't ready to hear your voice calling him again and realize that it was nothing like it had been before.

Jimin thought he heard glass breaking. Whether it was in his head or not, he didn't know. He had closed his eyes for a moment and felt that if he opened them, he would be filled with that panic once again. Maybe his illusions had been shattered by the icy tone of voice you used when you spoke to him; maybe something had broken in the kitchen.

He wasn't gullible. He knew he couldn't expect anything else. He clearly remembered what Jungkook had told them about that time he went to find you when he shouldn't have; he remembered his eyes full of pain and the regret reflected in his own. Maybe this was what he felt. The coldness of indifference and the despair of remorse.

Jimin wanted nothing more than for time to be a material thing that he could pull between his hands to return to the moment when all this misery began.

To return to the moment when everything broke; when they lost everything.

Fucking winter of 2013.

-

tag (i'll still tag in the comments): @rinkud@futuristicenemychaos@pastelpeachess@parapiop7@11thenightwemet11@yoongznme@queenbloody@lynnettys-world@darlingz99 @dreamerwasfound @chaotickyrith @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthigs @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @kariningss @juju-227592 @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @jincapableoflove @notrustfratedjin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @cerulean1riz @kawennote09 @angelfuzzy2 @themoonsblueside @damn-u-min-yoongi @drenix004 @dhanyasri @borahaetelevision

[midnightsdarkangel]

Im back again with another theory lads, one I have wanted to share for a LONG time.

THE LACY THEORY, I hope you all enjoy following me down the rabbit hole. Im going over all the information I collected on the DDVAU server, All information comes from the public chat, the offical playlist and the double hearted comic. That being said Lets begin this:

So lets start off with the big question: What is Lacy? Most likely you wont know of it outside of the discord server, I wanted to wait till I had a bit more evidence and information to present before I showed it out but I think I have enough complied. So!

Lacy is the unoffical name of a ship that will appear in Double Hearted. It was first mentioned in regards to the DDVAU Playlist which has been said that each song will give insight either to the plot, or a character development. The characters involed are: Grian, Scar, Martyn, Jimmy, Tango, Pearl (and Gem now added)

Its described in the songs as a messy situationship. So far Marru has confirmed it has its own playlist with songs in order of a timeline. These songs are:

-Lacy by Olivia Rodrigo

-Footnote by Conan Grey

-The Ballad of Lucy Grey by Rachel Zegler

-It took me by surprise by Maria Mena

-Obsessed by Olivia Rodrigo

With this as well we have this Image (it is noted that Maruu edited this photo to make sure not to give away who the characters are. I was given permission to show as its in the server)

So. Who are these two?

I heavily believe its Grian and Martyn. But why do I jump to that so quickly? Lets start with the drawing first. A while back in one of the earlier livestreams, we got this image:

This takes place in college, and as you can see. Grian has much longer hair there. I was able to take the drawing and line up that the hair strands matched Grian's.

Also, @rebelrenee36 was the one to discover there was actually another image of this drawing from the top half. I wont be posting that one here but we did see enough to conclude that Grian was one of the people in the picture.

But then why did I think it was Martyn in the second image?

Major shout out to @coatree who brought the idea up to me which resulted in me being insane about figuring it out.

I want to take you all to a song called Unravelling- the crane wives. It was one of the rare few songs that got confirmed to a character and we were told it was a Grian song.

In unravelling, the verses talks about different people in Grian's life who had shown him compassion and love. But then theres this:

At the time I needed to make a process of elimiation on who this was, but chapter 20 has given me the answer:

Martyn was the one who left Grian.

Its still a bit farfetched right? Lets take a look at the playlist songs. We know that Oh No by Marina, is a canonical song to Martyn, and I was able to assess that Martyn has a very sort of ride or die risk mentality, and when you compare this to The ballad of Lucy Grey?

Danced for my dinner?

and the gamble line fits along the lines of the Martyn songs the server has managed to find connections to.

When I started this connection, I started to notice some things:

Martyn is STARING at Grian and Big B and I had always wondered why but now I start to wonder...was he jelous?

Then if we take the art from the phones you see in Grians lock screen he has this image:

Martyns hand is on Grian's shoulder.

(also its funny to me that Big B and Martyn share the colour scheme outfit but reversed)

Then we finally got chapter 14, Martyns introduction and what is he like?

He is genuinely concerned for Grian and I think the only time we see urgancy from this man because the second Grian is ok he is chill the entire time, and we KNOW that Martyn hasnt shown back in the captial for such a long time now

Its no surprise Grian was taken back seeing him return:

I want to note two things as well in this chapter that really helped me form this theory, first of all: Martyn's blushing

(mf isnt subtle IM LOOKING AT YOU SIR)

The second comes from this

THIS MF ABSOLTUELY HAS HISTORY WITH GRIAN.

Its the fact that he knew what Grian wanted without Grian ever having to say a word. These two defintiely have a strong bond, plus the fact when Gem asks if Grian is comfortable with everyone being in the room when Grian discusses his abilities he says yes. Yes to mumbo who is his best friend, yes to Jimmy his cousin and someone he cherishes a lot and Martyn.

He is comfortable not only showing his wings off but also discussing his powers, something that he has kept wraps from EVERYONE.

and then chapter 20....oh my god I wasnt prepared for this.

mf thinks about Grian before Grian even reaches out

2. i love how protective he is for Grian

3. Sparrows father, someone VERY protective of Grian, glares a lot at martyn, which funny enough remember who else gave Martyn a dirty look for being near Grian?

HIS BEST FRIEND MUMBO.

4.

GRIAN BLUSHES WHEN MARTYN COMPLIEMENTS (unintentionally) CUTEGUY. LORDD

There is defintiely more to this theory, we dont know why they broke up, why Martyn left but Its clear these two have history. I have so many questions that I cant wait to see with upcomming chapters.

And that is my insanity, thank you and goodnight.

[korilakkumauowo]

𝒜nd there’s no other to blame but . 𝒚ou . ੭

❰❰ batboys yearning for a busy reader ⇆ How their love is like, pre-established 𝑋 ﹔requested, premade AU for everyone, civilian reader ! very soft very cute but also this one are AUs of reader that has a j*b 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 ﹔total is 5.6K and 1K+ each for everyone. 𝑛/𝑎 ﹔hey ... I TRIED to make these headcanons but my hands slipped. you also have a j*b in this one .. also not proofread but i tried ❤️‍🩹 its kind of short but i tried to give dinner im sorry 👩‍💻

richard john “dick” g.

dick g. ⇆ newsie! reader (reader delivers newspapers) (its a fun j*b in this universe) (goated hb gave the idea, I thought it was cute! ><) p.s i had no idea where i was getting at with this one

You bike around the streets of Gotham during early mornings before the heat could go by, the wind blows your hair away to reveal the smile on your face, and he stares at you—he feels privileged from the sight. He sees you handing newspapers, the familiar articles, putting them in certain mails outside of variant shops, to people passing by asking for one—mostly the old people that smile at you the second they yet again encounter you. And it uplifts his deep admiration for you further, because even then, the others could also feel the same radiant ambience you embody, and they too think it is as beautiful.

Though you’re on the bike and riding away, the further you get away from his proximity the further he wants to chase you more, just to atleast get you to notice him. To acknowledge him.

The first very moment he had met you was when you had accidentally slapped him across the face with the newspapers—when he blocked your way by accident.

Not by accident, he just wanted to ask for your number. He didn’t exactly predict for his face to be slapped across by papers

You both meet again; At the corner shop downtown, a cozy coffee house. And he comes up to you, sits on the empty chair infront of you and flashes you a charming smile, and you only nod in greeting. On other occasions, you bump into each other near the streets outside of the W.E coordinators building—he found out the W.E had been offering the newspapers, and it is you to deliver them—you both ended up spending the evening, walking around the park together. It didn’t feel like anything, it just felt like it was supposed to happen.

Since then, seeing each other ever so occasionally (which is starting to get suspicious) didn’t feel like simultaneous occurrences anymore. They just happen to happen.

He had loved you the moment times grew by, fast. Yet steady, when he wants to appreciate and prolong certain moments that playback in his head multiple or few times. Sometimes, he just liked to cherish the time, moment, and place—Maybe even the person who happens to be who he sees when his eyes close and doze off, stepping into a whole new land in his sleep.

He dreams of you.

He sees you but knows you are out of reach, your mind is somewhere else even when his heart is yours. It’s not fair, you get to be somewhere else when all he wants to be is to be somewhere in your head with your heart on his palm—But you never really knew that—and accept all of him that is immediately consumed by you.

The universe wasn’t exactly on his side, a second closer you got the more he realized how distant you actually could be when you had to turn back away. Because you both weren’t exactly something, just yet, but he’s trying.

So all he can do for now is think. Actions, little by little.

He thinks of the color that he noticed had made your eyes perk up a glint with something akin to enthusiasm. All he wants to be, is to be that color if it meant you got to look at him that way. Maybe even stop being an acrobat since he’d been stumbling around and losing balance around you all the time now—it would bring shame to his title.

His life has always been flexible in way, he has had many side jobs before. He decides to catch up with you. You pause and look away from the road, glancing beside you and the surprise is unfathoming. The same man, Richard Grayson Wayne, on his bike—that he had recently just bought at the last minute, that you’ve been encountering more than so much needed—is matching the pace of your bikes together, and it doesn’t make you feel uneasy. Because there are a stack of newspapers on the basket on the front.

He’s joining you.

The love in him ranges in a stretch—it graciously, and smoothly flows out like releasing energy into thin air, it all pours out of him for and to you. He’s not being subtle, the love in him resurfaces in the flexibility of his muscles. He catches you, he holds you close, a hand out for you. He goes through the thick and rough patches so you can go through with your unblemished self. He follows you throughout the streets and keeps an eye closeby, he drops in by your side when he sees you alone at night and there's more than thrill that runs through his adrenaline when conversation goes on—because right now you’re not so occupied, right now, you are with him. Even when he’s presenting himself as somebody you don’t know beneath the mask and suit.

Despite the calm, there can be thrill. His devotion is exuberant. It’s a lavish breeze, a breath of fresh air, but it takes the air out of your lungs when it falls onto you all at once—and it is not bad, it is the rush of excitement that brings to it.

Because suddenly it all happens so fast, the moment a suspicious, lean figure dressed in black had even crossed the same path as you was when Nightwing—somebody who seems very familiar to you the closer you look—scoops you up and within seconds, there is the gush of wind that made you hitch your breath out of instinct and it rushes past you both through the air, you’re all too far gone to even continue the scream in your lungs as you clung onto him for dear life—because you can see the City, the lamp posts, the street, the cars on the road, right below you both as he whips through the air like it’s nothing.

Like you’re not even in his arms. Like your heart isn’t sure whether to be flattered for the save that you didn’t even know you needed, or if your heart should be pondering for a heart attack out of pure panic from the moment.

And you didn’t even notice the abrupt stop the first second, he drops by your apartment all so casually, the logo in his suit is slightly glowing despite the dimness of your balcony. Since when did Nightwing know where you live? 

jason peter t.

jason t. ⇆ librarian! reader (... i thought it was cute again (2))

The library is a nice, quiet, and tranquil place to be. It gives him a sense of belonging—and he knows that this is where his peace could be—where no one can bother to poke you through the skin, there are whispers deep in the depth of himself telling him that he longs to be here until he learns to figure out the vulnerable parts of life.

He was right.

The smell of organic, earthy old papers is what fills his lungs once he opens and goes through the halls and the shelves, but the moment his eyes averted to the sight of you behind your counter—all he can see is you—he took it in selfishly. Maybe he’s not just going back here, back and forth every now and then, just to read a bunch of the books he specifically came up to you for (He knows where they all are, he just wants a walk with you through the shelves, and he buried every moment with you deeply).

In a place full of bricks with papers stacked in a shelf atop each other, scholarly or simplistic—you are the long awaited book filled with pages of layers that he wants to go through, and in every word there is in you, he will remember them.

But these are only fleeting and brief moments he gets to have. The universe tells him it’s so close, but so far.

You’re always keeping yourself busy, nose hooked on the book down your hands (though he knows that’s what reading is supposed to look like), and when you’re not—there is another customer of the day having to dwell on your attention.

It makes his face scrunch in disdain and he all but wants to snark at the laughing silhouette of your shadow. He needs assistance too! Look at him, the book in his hand is upside down. You should come over to his table and read it with him. Or even then, you’re by yourself on your counter all the time going through a paper list or checking in the people’s library cards—whether they’re borrowing or returning.

He decides to seethe over the huge block of half wall between you guys; it is an obvious abstract to bring a physical gap between you both, as though being emotionally afar isn’t enough to torment him in his sleepless nights.

He decides he hates having you right over the other side, he needs you by his side, specifically.

Even your quick and lectured ‘’shh!’’s towards his way, when he’s up and all over your work counter in hopes of striking up conversations, are adored. Or the quick glimpses of your soft smile towards him—before you cover the beauty up with a book that you’re holding, or paper, or clipboard, or God forbid your hand that he yearns to hold with his—are things he takes all too seriously. Makes the spirit in him giddy, and he wants to feel and go deep to more.

You don’t realize that everytime you look his way is like a ceasefire in the conflict of his life. The moment he steps in the library, right there and then you’ll feel a pair of eyes already on your back. There is no closure to this, he wants to keep it going. He wants to prolong, cherish the given times fate brings you both upon. Until, you realize—whether or not you wish for him to persist.

You let him, the day he stayed with you when the sun set. When the night called you off your duty, when he stayed the whole day in the library and had tea—together—with you by the counter. Just because.

It’s late at night, the horizon is through the phase of the moon cycle—and it’s the night that happens to end your shift. If anything, this might’ve been your first ever shift where the night awaits you right by the end—you’ve always taken the day-by duty, but the co-worker of yours was out for something personal. You didn’t ask what.

The heavy gnawing of approval from a somebody you look up to didn’t help that she was a very dear and over-the-age close to being a senior citizen and had given you life changing advice since the very first day of work, had you impulsively volunteering the afternoon duties as her substitute.

You were glad to help, genuinely. But when the dark sky falls in, it only has you thinking of circumstances—Gotham isn’t safe enough to be out alone.

Seeing the peering lamplights of the city streets outside the windows had you quite rethinking back of your choices. That old lady must be quite used to this, and you’re hyping yourself up that if she’d been through this all, alone, then you must be too.

But oh, Jason, it’s a coincidence he’s here too! He didn’t even notice the setting of the sky change over the hours.. time flies by so fast, no?

He offers you a ride home. Insisted, for safety measures of course. The breeze, cold air of the night hits your face, the wind is all too suddenly chilly, but he thinks the feel of your arms around him is thrilling.

The scent of you lingers onto him, and he breathes it in and your aroma quickly consumes over his lungs like no other smoke could. He concludes to himself that maybe you’re more worth being addicted to.

In a way that he’s almost grateful—it’s as healthier than the nicotine that tends to crawl his pleura and the familiar feeling of the clouds that gets pass through to mess with his head—because atleast you make words in his throat stuck like no other could—he’s certainly quiet. But speechless? He didn’t think he’d ever been with the way you do to him—atleast you’re the one messing with his head now, and he doesn’t seem to detest it.

It thumps his heart from each beat—your hand is right by his chest—and he’s hoping you don’t feel the little tiny jumps his heart is doing through his ribs. This might have been the peace he was subconsciously longing for. You, will be his peace.

Imperfections turn faultless, and the love is so full that it makes the heart of a vigilante jump like a mirthful puppy learning its first steps. In the end, he’s glad to come across the Library downtown. It is exactly where he found the peace that he longed to find—the missing piece of himself, where fate spoke to him out loud.

timothy “tim” d.

i admit this one was a bit 😣 Reader doesn't have a specific job here, nothing mentioned. Also lowk stalker Tim but in a cute way bcz he didnt mean to be. i started channeling Shakespeare in the end (i dont get what i said)

Now listen. Him already even showcasing his businesses as the Red Robin—it is already a huge deal and step for him, and you didn’t have to do much for it. He hadn’t meant to put you at risk with these sorts of information, but it slipped out. He can never really pay attention to what he’s saying and thinking when you're right and all he wants to do is get lost in your eyes and let time stop itself.

He wishes it would. He wishes you could stay a moment longer. He wishes you wouldn’t have to be so burdened in your responsibility and obligations anymore. You’re still there, but the paranoia in him is already heading into forward into what time will come.

So as a way to keep an eye on you, he has to outright do just that; He syncs patrols with your schedule. Besides, the obstacle that was probably between you both was you choosing your duties over him. Honestly, you yourself was probably a challenge he wouldn’t be able to get past. He admires the dedication, really, but if anything, it only drove him furthermore. He didn’t mind a little bit of challenge, it just thrills him in the head.

Maybe because he has decided you’d be the perfect fit for a puzzle like him. So, he decides to treat the inkling feeling in his heart with strategies. Seeing Red Robin constantly out your balcony isn’t as alarming as the first times anymore. He seems to sync with you every time, the moment you step inside your bedroom—he is waiting from afar and is lunging forward and dropping down to your balcony. He brings stuff with him; a flower he picked up as the starter, the next day was 2 cups of coffee from the nearby café—just so he could hold onto a conversation with you. He missed your voice. He tracks your shift like it’s his own job to do, he memorizes your schedule just to revise his own to spend the evening with you. The wind catches his whispers of ‘be safe, and goodnight’ when you end up asleep before he gets to you on time.

When he’s really got to go for patrol, he leaves sticky notes outside your balcony with cute little reminders for you. He puts a tracker on your phone, and he has it saved on his comms just to monitor you when he’s far too out of reach. He skims—with dedication and making sure to remember everything—through your government documents and files (though with light intentions, he merely wants to know you better). Failed missed calls on your ends means he’s immediately up and checking your location—failed missed calls on his part never happens, he always picks up at the first ring when it’s you. He sulks when he has to be away for just a little longer than he has to be—he’s suddenly rushing throughout the crime-fighting.

Sometimes, you get home late and a little dazed. From whatever may have happened during your duty—you’d snap at him when you’re far too exhausted and fatigued, and your brain just immediately gets so overstimulated. And he gets you; he doesn’t say anything, just a nod and a silent reassurance as he gives you space and waits—but he doesn’t actually leave, he just silently stands there and waits it out patiently.

Few affections there and then, not very subtle much—couldn’t it have been any more obvious for you?

You are constantly unreachable and occupied, wrapping yourself into these chores. He’s a busy man himself, well sometimes, and he knows what it’s like. He’s sleep deprived himself, and he slips in the room of wherever you may be just so he knows that you are truly still capable of being intact together. You don’t notice he’s been watching your shift from across the street every night—but you feel safe when you’re heading home, no doubt.

You ask for his intentions, he has a lot that he’d been wishing to say;

I’m dropping by just to check in on you. You worry me a lot, stop overworking yourself. You’re doing just enough. I care about you a lot. I think I love you.

He didn’t get a chance to declare any of it, when you had already opened up the door of your balcony and his feet dragged itself in with his mouth sealed shut into a soft smile gracing his face when he finally got a look at you. The lights of the city from outside illuminates your features in the dim lights of the room and he thinks he now might just have to be comfortable with sappy moments like these soon if he wants this to last forever.

Because, God, he really does want it to. If forever meant you.

He had always felt the need to function, not of self worth. Sure. He’s smart, calculating, analytical and intellectual—the brains in him, he thinks, have nothing to offer, but to work his heart out with the functionality of his mind, to pour out what the heart feels with his actions.

He inserts himself in your life but stays out of lane. Your seamless self along with his scarcing history of past lovers keeps him away, they are buried deep and it consumes him—along with the perfection of you—and brings his hopes low and it weighs him down.

As much as the love he has for you holds him whole, it feels as though it holds him on a pedestal in your life.

You are the ideal pattern he takes his time observing, that he now sees in everything of life. He watches, and he decides that heaven must have blessed him for having the sight of the eyes. He listens, and he’s all too grateful for the advantages of the ears—Maybe he’s even glad he exists, just to live the same timelines with you if it means he gets to have the privilege to be in your life—suddenly, life isn’t so bad. Suddenly, it is worthy to let the soul in himself continue on.

duke thomas

duke t. ⇆ boy (him) next door (i swear it was a lot more creative in my head) Apartment complex/condo setting. kind of short im sorry guys heh i kinda dont know how to write Duke but it's fun doing so. I also had no idea where i was getting at with this one (2)

He hasn’t seen you in a while. The only light in his life that he couldn’t compare to no other, the only light in his life he couldn’t predict.

There were times when you’d go out and then he’d take the opportunity to slide to your side as you both converse into wherever your words could get you—since then, you’ve been closer than ever, rather than just a peer in the apartment complex. Other times, he’d be looking out through his window and peeking at his door expecting just a little longer to watch you head out of your room and he’d coincidentally walk out just in time, too. He’d wait.It bothers him truly, but he knows you’re not exactly keeping yourself away from him or anyone—you just had a lot of things in your schedule. But the lack of you keeps him tormented, reminding him of just how far of reach you are to him, despite just living next door.

You’ve always been there. Right across his room in the apartment complex building, you are right there and he is right infront of your doorway—and he’s about to knock, when he abruptly gets a hold of himself at the last second. His fist is already an air away from the door, and he stiffly brings it back down to his side as he bombards himself in the head.

Where had all his daring surge of confidence gone? His words aren’t stuck to his throat, but they are too heavy to drag out on his tongue.

He mutters to himself. ‘I haven’t seen you all week.’ Ah, sounds demanding. Maybe.. ‘Mind catching up with me?’ ..eh, sounds corny. Or maybe! ‘You good? You’ve been cooped up inside that room since.. Last—’

The sudden door infront of him suddenly barges open and he freezes completely still, stiff yet his stance slouches in almost embarrassment as he comes face-to-face with you. And the puzzled look on your face makes him want to slide a sly comment in.

“Duke?” He caught on to your voice, immediately snapping out of it.

“Hey.. uh. I was just about to knock.” His lips quirk up into a timid but sincere smile, bringing a hand up the back of his neck—scratching it to keep his hand occupied and to keep his body moving.

“I know, I saw you through the peephole.”

“Oh.”

That had been the first time he was able to step inside the comfort of your space.

Sometimes, he’d like to just crash inside your abode (with permission of course,) step aside to your couch and just. Stay. Finding the solace in your shared presence. And he starts to look into you more, now that he’s able to be closer than ever. He studies your routine, he memorizes your schedules (They are set up in those sticky notes of your dashboard behind the door) He takes a look into your calendar, set up right at the wall beside your personal desk, and counts down the days of chances when he’d be able to have you for himself. On different occasions, he lingers by you, wherever you may be.

He’s .. starting to think he might be spending more time in your apartment than his own. Maybe being out of the Wayne Manor for just a little while wasn’t actually so bad.

When your duties outweighs your already weary self into a mushed pile of strained burden, he is there for it to be all better. He organizes activities in your room; Late night karaoke in the living room and away from your unkempt desk, multiple sessions of Jinga whilst sat together on the living room floor, the game of cards discarded all over and playful arguments ensues, and heartfelt times of vulnerability when he sees you asleep on the desk—and he is able to tuck you in himself and he gets to cherish the privilege of seeing you this vulnerable.

When he finally gets you out of your shell, he takes you to a simple start. A cup of coffee, together. You’re both sitting across each other from the table, the aroma of the sugary pastries make the scenario a little sweeter, and there are baristas preparing your orders as you both await for the delicacy.

Nothing hits just as hard as the sight of the sunrise glow basking in your way, the golden hue of light reflecting across your skin that it might’ve been the sun kissing you ‘good morning’ from across the sky. He imagines cliché occasions—of you both together—similar to that. He would’ve been doing the same. Nothing can really dim you out of his life, even the daylights and the beams of the sun know where to find you.

The purpose of the existence of light would’ve been because he needed to see you in his life. He might have the ability to bend the bright lumiscene, but this certain glow infront of him is something he yet has to fathom and cannot manipulate—because this time he will be genuine, and maybe fate can bend it to something it is meant to be—and this gift from the sun is something he could get familiar with.

And so he stares, and he is enamoured. Enamoured, and he cannot look away. He takes this slow to savor every temptation of fate and coincidences. A label in a relationship wouldn’t be able to define the title you hold over him. If he is Duke, you will be his Duchess–his Queen. And even then, he swears to keep it that way, because he had always known that love would be his stability despite the ruckus that may occur in Gotham’s streets.

He’s kind of glad he skipped Patrol for times like these. Bruce can give lectures later.

damian al ghul w.

university au, summer immersion, MD! Damian, BSN! Reader. Kind of ooc..? But i love me some soft dami idcidcidc. prob also doesn't make logical sense; i know nothing about what happens in university i js asked from my sister about her summer immersions ANYWAYS ... !

Despite also wanting to be independent of your sense of individuality, he always seemed to be..just there. Damian thinks he might be a little bit too intrigued by you, there’s no other way or explanation for his sudden behavior. Have you forgotten your kit again? You can take his. Even if the consequences would give him another extension for the summer immersion. Printer in your house broken? Oh, he already printed another copy of his notes for you! You have nothing to worry about. Oh, you’ve run out of gauges and sterile gloves.. He’s got plenty more anyways.

(The next day, there is a box of supplies handed out to you.)

He likes the look on your eyes when you take a moment to admire the small little pointless sketch—finally glancing away from your textbook, and he sighs in relief yet there is another feeling of anxiety that crawls on his skin when he imagines you looking at him like that, the glint of earnest in your eyes—the whole anatomy of the rib, with the names of each fragment there is to name, mind you. And ever since then, he doesn’t seem to mind it anymore whenever you try to attempt and peek over his shoulder to glance at whatever impression his pencil could be gliding across the paper for.

Ever since then he started giving you his personal notes in each lesson—the detailed, comprehensive, and precise depictions of each anatomy he drew during the lecture hours, the long and well-researched studies in each lesson the professors had yet to instruct. Sometimes, he had even predicted the on-coming examinations and gave you his analysis beforehand.

He had wanted you to feel almost well provided, even through the busy schedules the academics could ever overwhelm you with, let his subtle sentiments engulf you further until you forget about the worries altogether. He had seen how serious and far-reaching you are for your future, and if anything, that—had really meant something for him. It was admirable, it was the commitment you had with yourself, that had him wanting to reach out for a chance—for the same significance to be in your life. Maybe he just wants to feel important, in the consistency of morals, in your eyes.

There were times where you two had barely talked during a period, when the academics were too much to bear, and so you both secluded into the quietness. He didn’t complain, he liked the fact that he had gotten the opportunity to even be in your circle, even when it is silent.

He’s rather quiet, but at times when he wants your attention, he likes to subtly hint at you with his interesting choices—“When an octopus is stressed, it may eat its own arms.” He said out of the blue, glancing over to you, applying your sticky notes on your textbooks. He sees the slight quirk of your lips, and he wants to say so much before, but his eyes avert away before he could stare any longer, he does not want to look like a fool.

He said it with purpose, because he had seen you fussing over your own grades. It is nothing of the ordinary, he is here willing to provide you with so much more than that. And he wants to assure you—He loves your face very much. He could hold your cheeks on his palm and press a gentle kiss to your forehead if it meant for your head to clear up, if he wasn’t so afraid. But even from how much he adores your beauty, he still dislikes the look of distress on your face; anything that discomforts you, he wishes to perish them himself—but he cannot perish you when you do that to yourself.

Even when both of your courses were distinct, the academic pathways were similar, sometimes, your classes tend to overlap with his—because why is there an MD student at the BSN..? Maybe he’s just that good to be able to get inside two of the course lessons.

The classes were over, but extensions and summer immersion were right out by the corner of your schedule. And out of all people, Damian’s schedule is overlapping yours again.

( His line up was a fraud. He interchanged timetables with another student—your supposed peer for the whole immersion, operations and all—and had personally came up to the Counsellors for his way. With that, you’re both paired, just as how it should have been in the first place. )

And, just like that, It’s hell week; Immersion. It didn’t help that the unflattering heat of the summer had been taking a toll for everyone. The hospital, frankly there just for professional practice, had surely been engulfed by air conditioning since the early dawn.

Damian’s merely here for the trial and error—you’re well aware that he can be infuriatingly, exemplary, best of this. You’re here for an actual practice. Seriously, how does he already know what to do with everything? Ever since the starting of semester. You can’t help but be suspicious, maybe even a little bit envious of it. But you have nothing against him—not when he begrudgingly helped you throughout the year. (He just wanted to be nice. Maybe he’s even participating in the Immersion Program just so he could be your mentor all the way throughout.)

Every room in the medical institution has the same aroma—scents of isopropyl alcohol, antiseptic, and disinfectant. You can even smell the baby powder cologne of some employees that pass by close enough. The scent of baby powder seems to be very convenient in places like the sanitarium, so you decide to give it a try yourself.

He notices the moment he steps by your side, like he always does the first thing he gets here. He sees you staring down at your clipboard—eyes probably scrutinizing the tasks you’ve been assigned to on your checklist—and he eyes you down. You feel it.

“You reek.” You turn to him, puzzled and mildly offended. You open your mouth, but he cuts you off. “—of talcum powder.” His eyes stare you down shallowly, but his heart swells at the foreign scent of something chaste on you; it fits you, really.

You nod. “Yes..baby,” you paused, for no reason whatsoever–you just found your voice stuck, probably from the piece of toast you ate just from minutes ago, and his brain short-circuits at what he had just heard. You cleared your throat, “–powder.” You finished it off, before turning away to head towards your designated area.

Oh. He feels himself wanting to shrink into a small ball of utter humiliation. He thought you had just called him—nevermind.

During duty hours, he does end up sticking right by you. Like a pair, and it looks really like convincing for the patients for a Doctor in training with a Nurse in training together side by side—really. He never really seems like he’d walk away any time soon—because, he has the schedule folder of both your designations and updoings, he can plan all things thoroughly, he knows what to do, but for a pair to work; he needs you just as much as you need him, and you basically just outright give his plans a feedback of your own—and he listens. And follow what you tell him to do. He’s already following you around all day at the medical institution like a puppy.

When there is an operation in the room, you are both intended to watch and observe as the professionals handle and perform their function.

Sometimes, you are both at action too. Only from a limit. He practices on a just mildly injured patient, and you give him the scrapes and tools that he asks for when he switches up to a new pursuit at task—your finger brushes along his as you pass him the bandage scissors, and he longs to feel a little more. You don’t notice, first to pull back away and he turns away to brush away the swell of his heart.

Every fleeting moment of brief skin-to-skin makes his skin adust, it burns and leaves an imprint of warmth from you—it doesn’t seem so bad, you’ve already had the right to leave parts of you onto parts of his the very moment the tingling twinge of weakness had hit him. Be it merging or molding yourselves into one, he’d prefer that anyway, he cherishes anything and everything from you.

The pursuit of his dream might’ve been his very first purpose—to heal, to save, and bring back somebody’s life that he felt like he needed to do, what his youth would’ve wanted—to be here, but he’s starting to think that you might’ve been the reason he could be here.

When the job is over and the dismissal of the Counsellors are announced, he stands beside you and hooks his pinky finger with yours, and he feels a little proud—when away from the prying eyes of everyone, he places his adoration into the kiss of the back of your palm, It overflows from your hands like it shouldn’t, and he wants you to hold it all for yourself now that you have his heart.

𝑛/𝑎 ﹔SO.. what do we think about ittt eehqhqhqhaahh hdhahehhe hehheheh ahhshh GUYS ! THIS TOOK A WHILE TO POST i was really booked and busy AND i was slacking off a lotttt BUTBUT i was writing drafts on my overheating half dead laptop with sims 4 in the background (its just overreacting) at the car during vacay, yolo✌️😇 xx

best regards all rights reserved. ©𝐤𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐤𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐮𝐨𝐰𝐨

[wildestdreamsblog]

My Love, let me go

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader (Idol AU)

Summary: Breaking up with him during his military service was, initially, a good idea...until you found out that someone like him just wouldn't let go. (One shot)

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, , If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: An effect of my brainrot (also have u see taehyung??? That in itself is an explanation enough) ✨

While the whole country and perhaps, even the whole world, waited in anticipation for June 10, 2025, you gnawed your lips in worry.

While the entire country screamed purple with his face splattered everywhere you looked, your heart was beating with anxiety for his return.

While people have been swarming in the country for his comeback, you wanted nothing but to leave.

If you could, you would have escaped the country by now. In fact, it was not from the lack of trying. You had planned months ahead; your luggage and plane tickets were all ready to go. Your leave was already planned in your work. Your itinerary for the whole month away from South Korea was planned, budget executed down to the single won. You were ready.

You knew you were ready.

However, what you failed to account was him.

You should have known, though, that you couldn’t outplan a manipulator such as Kim Taehyung.

Everything that could go wrong that day did go wrong.

First, your airline emailed you with an apology—your flight had been rescheduled to next week due to a sudden technical issue. You clenched your jaw, told yourself it was fine. You’d just leave the city instead. Maybe escape to the countryside.

So you booked a train ticket.

Your card got declined.

You blinked at the error message in disbelief. Moments later, your bank sent you a polite notification informing you that due to a “suspicious transaction,” your card had been frozen pending a thorough investigation.

Fine. You’d drive, then.

Except, of course, your car wouldn't start.

You stared at the motionless vehicle in your driveway, a bitter laugh escaping your lips.

Perfect.

Kim Taehyung: 1. You: 0.

And he hadn’t even arrived yet.

You didn’t have access to your money. You couldn’t use your car. You couldn’t even go to the place you already paid for. You were sadly, for all intents purposes, helpless and stuck.

The freedom you felt since he enlisted was slipping through your fingers by second, the weakened hold he had on you that you fought so desperately to loosen was starting to tighten again. You could feel it in your chest, your throat closing up like it always did when you sensed him near.

He hadn’t done anything directly yet…and the last time you spoke to him was when you went to visit him in his camp to end things. It had taken everything in you to face him, to stand in front of that beautiful, dangerous man and tell him you were walking away. It had taken too much of you to look into his dark and beautiful eyes to tell him that you and him were over.

But even now, you wondered—was it really courage? Or just convenience?

Because the truth was, you waited. You waited until he was safely behind gates and schedules, too far away to reach you, too confined by uniform and duty to chase after you and tear your resolve to pieces like he always did.

You ended things when you knew he couldn’t stop you.

And somehow, that made it worse. Because if there’s one thing you knew about Kim Taehyung, it’s that he never lost. Not really.

Worst of all, he never intended to lose you.

You had stood there, heart pounding, words trembling out of your mouth like fragile glass, fully expecting a reaction. Anger, disbelief, maybe even pain.

But he laughed.

He laughed like you had just told the most ridiculous joke in the world.

Head thrown back, shoulders shaking, lips stretched in that maddeningly beautiful smirk—he laughed so hard that soldiers and officers turned to stare. He laughed for too long until he uttered the words that still haunted you to this day.

Love, we will never be over.

You walked away that day, blocked his number, changed your address and never looked back.

Well, until now.

But that had been more than a year ago, you told yourself. A whole enlistment cycle. A whole lifetime, almost. He was a superstar—the superstar. There was no way he was still holding onto that, right?

Right?

And yet, deep down, under the logic and self-reassurance, under the layers of “he’s moved on” and “you’re safe now,” a familiar chill coiled in your spine.

Because if there was one thing you’d learned from loving him—it was that Kim Taehyung never forgot.

Looking back, there was no way for you to know that someone so well-loved by the public like him could be so…ruthless. So possessive. So traditional.

There was no way you could have known. The world adored him. He was beloved—a walking contradiction of mystery and warmth, always poised with that elegant ease, always smiling like the world had never bruised him. With his slow, thoughtful words and strange little quirks, Taehyung disarmed everyone, and you were no exception.

If only you weren’t swayed by his charming smile, or of how strange he was in the most beautiful way, then maybe you wouldn’t be hiding right now. Yes, you were terrified of him, but it wasn’t because you thought he would physically hurt you.

No.

You were scared of him because of how intense he loved you.

He loved you too deeply that there was no way it would ever be normal. He loved you too deeply that there was no more room for you in the us that he imagined.

Back then, he wanted to know everything—every detail of your day. What you ate. What time you slept. Whether your coworker was a man or woman. And when knowing wasn't enough, he wanted control. Where you went. Who you were with. Why you didn’t text back fast enough. Why your voice sounded tired. Why you were smiling in a photo someone else took.

At first, you made excuses. You called it passion. You called it longing. You rationalized that someone as big as he was basically could not have a simple relationship. That someone like Taehyung, someone so famous and busy, was just desperate to hold on to something real. That you were that something.

But even when you saw him almost every weekend, despite both of your demanding jobs, it was never enough. He was never satisfied with moments. He wanted all of you. He wanted to consume you. He wanted control.

Where you went. Who you were with. Why you didn’t text back fast enough. Why your voice sounded tired. Why you posted that story without tagging him. Why you looked so happy in someone else’s photo.

He said it was because he missed you. Because loving you from a distance was unbearable.

And you believed him.

He wanted you by his side, always— Wanted you on every tour, in every city, behind every curtain.

He wanted to be the only person you needed. And every night, he wanted to consume you—body, mind, time, and soul.

He asked you to quit your job so you could always be with him.

Said it so calmly, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because, as he told you, he was the man. He should be taking care of you. His woman should not have to lift a finger to live. “Whatever you want,” he said, “it’s yours.”

But you never wanted to give up your independence. He never understood that despite the endless explanations you gave him.

You had seen what that looked like. You saw how dependent your mother was to your father, and you didn’t want that from you. You never wanted to ask a man for anything.

Taehyung quite literally hated how you couldn’t be with him in each tour or how you couldn’t live with him. In turn, you hated how he couldn’t just let go. You hated how he could not accept that you needed to be independent despite loving him.

You were too tired of it all that at one point, you told him that it was best for you two to see other people. And he just stared at you, eyes dark and wide with disbelief. Then he laughed. Not loud, not cruel. Quiet. Frightening, to which he answered why you needed anyone when you had him.

He said that maybe it was best to remove those people from your life.

Perhaps, asking him to breakup was the wrong thing to say.

Back then, you thought that that was the end, that you signifying your discontent with the relationship would mean it was over between the two of you.

You should have known that there was no leaving Taehyung.

If he couldn’t control you, he would control the situation. He was good at it, you surmised, shaping how other people see him.

He was good at playing the victim.

He was good at manipulating people into thinking that his love was normal and that he couldn’t live without you. He played it too well that you even villainized yourself when he got hospitalized.

They said he collapsed. Said he hadn’t eaten. Said he had broken down.

Fans were worried, news of his health took the social media in storm.

Park Jimin had shown up at your door, eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful. He shoved past you without asking and stood in your living room like he owned the place.

“I didn’t know you were like this,” he said bitterly. “He only ever loved you. And what did you do?”

“You left him.” His voice shook. “How can you be so cruel?”

You had no answer. Because somehow, Taehyung had made even you question yourself.

Had it really been that bad? Hadn’t he always just loved you… deeply?

You came back. Of course you did.

But after that, he was even worse.

 And now, here you were, uncertain of whether the events that just transpired were back luck or someone who was pulling the strings.

Despite that, your paranoia lessened as days went by.

It was like what happened the day of his discharge were just fluke because what followed was silence. News of him meeting his friends and even attending Hoseok’s concert were all over the social media. He was out there living his best life. It seemed like he was living well, it seemed like he had forgotten about you. There was even no attempt to contact you.

Maybe, the military life changed his outlook for the better.

Maybe the enlistment and rigorous life squashed the darkness and obsessive need in his hear.

Maybe you were overthinking.

But dear, how wrong you were.

It was a little over a week later when it happened—when everything began to unravel.

You were running late one night, dinner with colleagues stretching longer than expected. The car ride home was quiet, and all you could think about was how good it would feel to collapse into bed. You’d had one too many drinks, just enough to fumble with your keys at the door. They slipped from your hand, clattering to the floor.

You bent down to retrieve them—only for the door to slowly creak open on its own in the silence of the night.

Your blood ran cold.

Your gaze dropped to the bare feet inside your apartment, and slowly, it trailed upward—over the hem of cuffed jeans, up the muscular thighs that haunted too many of your memories. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering in panic. You didn’t want to look. You didn’t need to.

Because you already knew.

But you didn’t have to wait for confirmation. Kim Taehyung crouched in front of you, his expression unreadable as he picked up the keys from the floor and held them out to you.

He held them out to you with a soft smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Looking for these?” he asked, voice low, calm, like he hadn’t just broken into your apartment. Like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be here.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Your heart thundered against your ribs, panic clawing its way up as you stared at him—his face as achingly beautiful as ever, but his presence colder than the air-conditioned hallway behind you. You tried to speak, tried to find the words that could explain your fear, your confusion, your boundaries—but nothing came.

He tilted his head, studying you, then stood up to his full height. “You look tired,” he murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “You shouldn't drink so much. It's not safe. What if something happened to you? You should have called me. You know I would have picked you up”

You flinched away from his touch, finally finding the strength to take a step back. “Taehyung,” you whispered, “what are you doing here? H-how did you find me?”

“Love, please don’t be mad,” his deep voice implored you as he reached for your hand, his grip, though it didn’t hurt, was tight. It was clear that you were not going anywhere. His unbridled strength was new to you. Taehyung had always been strong, but this was different.

He pulled you inside your apartment as though it was his, as though he had every right to be there himself. As soon as you stepped over the threshold, you noted the smell of homecooked meals. Your eyes went to your dining table where dinner was set, coupled with candles.

“W-why are you here? How did you find me?!” asked him, pulling your hand away as he closed the door gently. He leaned against the door, body relaxed, but his eyes never left you. And you just knew—if he didn’t want you to leave, you wouldn’t.

“You know…” he began, his voice almost wistful. “I tried to stay away. You hurt me when you left me, did you know that?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

“When you came to the base to break up with me, I was devastated,” he continued, stepping closer. “I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I kept thinking…why? Why would you say those things? I knew you were only pushing me away because of the eighteen months we had to be apart. That’s what it was, wasn’t it?” His voice dropped to a whisper, lips curving upward in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You were scared I’d forget you. You wanted to see if I’d chase you.”

You took another step back, but your spine hit the edge of the console table behind you.

“I tried,” he repeated, softer now. “I tried to respect your decision. To give you space. But I couldn’t stay away from you.”

His smile was almost self-deprecating. “Isn’t it pathetic that I could only stay away for a week?”

Your hands curled into fists at your sides as your body began to shake not from fear alone, but fury. Fury at him. At yourself. At the twisted, beautiful thing that love had turned into. You shook your head. “I didn’t try to break up with you, Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth, voice rising despite your best efforts. “We broke up. I changed my number. I left my company. I moved apartments. I changed everything just so you wouldn’t be able to find me. We are over.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then, he tilted his head to the side. Something shifted in his expression—not anger, not sadness, but something worse. Amusement. A quiet, terrifying confidence.

You watched his muscles tense beneath the stretch of his black shirt, fabric clinging to the lean power he’d carved into himself over the past eighteen months. He looked different. Sharper. Bigger. A version of him that didn’t need to raise his voice to command a room—or to cage someone in it.

“You don’t really think I didn’t know where you were all this time… do you?” he asked, tone light, almost teasing. “Come on, darling. You know me better than that.”

Your blood turned to ice.

“You know I’d go crazy if I didn’t know where you are,” he continued, his smile softening as if this were some kind of confession, not an admission of obsession. “You know that.”

And just like that, the bottom fell out from under you.

The months of peace you thought you had—the freedom you clung to like a lifeline—all of it shattered in an instant. The new phone, the job, the address, the carefully orchestrated distance... none of it had ever mattered.

Because he had known.

He had always known.

And the freedom you had fought so hard for?

It had only ever been an illusion.

Your breath hitched. You felt it the cold seep of dread slipping into your bones, anchoring you in place as he stepped just a little closer.

“You didn’t really think you could disappear from me, did you?” he asked softly, brushing his fingers along your arm like he was soothing a frightened animal. “Don’t worry. I’m here now.”

if I write another story for when the member gets out of military, who would you want it to be?