#and it just brings me to tears to be loved like this

[lymtw]

Thinking of a soft and slow, but heated make out session with Toji, where he's got you beneath him, brushing his lips against yours with the intention of not stopping until both his lips and yours feel raw.

One of his hands is on your waist, squeezing tenderly, while the other is in your panties, thick fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. You're humming little whimpers into your kisses, pushing at his chest every once in a while and breaking the ongoing kiss.

"What, ma?" Toji asks, his voice deepened with restrained lust. His eyes are so dark, you can barely see the green that naturally brightens them. "Why're you pushing me away, hm?" He asks, kissing the corner of your lips.

"Please... slow down," you say, breathily. "I don't want this to end so soon."

"Baby, that was slow," he says, with an amused grin on his face. "Was being gentle and barely moved my fingers."

You sigh, embarrassment coursing through you and showing itself in your face through a bright shade of red that smothers your cheeks.

"Come on," he says, softly, leaning in again to continue where things were left off. Toji's lips lock with yours, the gentle synchronization egging on the pleasure he draws from you. He wasn't lying when he said he was barely moving his fingers. He just knows you've always been a sensitive little thing for him, and because of that, he loves testing your sensitivity in moments like these. Moments where even just the kissing part would have you squirming, and his weight on your body makes you need him so bad that you feel filthy for letting your thoughts of the situation evolve into something sinful.

"Kiss me back, princess," he murmurs, noticing the way you're heavily slowing down, not fully reciprocating his kisses like before.

"W-Wait-" you gasp, slapping a hand on Toji's wrist. "I'm gonna-"

"Then cum, sweetheart. We can do it again and again if that's what you're stressing over."

"Mm-mm." You shake your head to emphasize your response. "The first one is always the strongest. Please, Toji. Pretty please, not yet," you beg.

Toji has a look of strange disbelief painted on his features. How could you not want this? It's been going on for the better part of half an hour, now. The edging must be driving you crazy.

You pull his hand out of your underwear and the other one off your waist, bringing them both up to your lips. "Please, baby..." you murmur into his palms, kissing them both repeatedly. "...not yet. Just a little longer." You change the position of your hands and hold his hands tight, bringing his knuckles up to your lips this time.

Toji clicks his tongue, making it clear that he's the one who's being impatient. He just wants to see and hear the side effects of your pleasure. You're teasing him with those little whimpers and gasps between kisses. The reason it's so hard to bear is because he's so used to you giving him what he wants, when he wants it. This is one of the rare times where you're trying to stand your ground against him. You always hope you have enough willpower to keep up your defense because Toji knows every way to sneak through it or tear it down. Your love for him is a severe disadvantage, and because of it, all it takes is a few words and it's as if your defense was made of flimsy paper.

"Alright, alright, little masochist. I'll slow down even more, for you."

You giggle at the nickname, welcoming Toji's weight on you again. He makes a brief detour and directs himself towards your ear to whisper some much needed information.

"I'm not going any slower than this, you understand?" He mutters, into your ear.

"But-"

"Princess," he says, cutting you off. "It's yes or no. Do you understand or not?" he asks, stomping all over your wants because for once his needs outshine them. You nod, silently, in response. "Good." He pecks your cheek, leaning back to look at you. You look... not all there, or at least not like you did just seconds ago. It's not what he wanted. He sighs, knowing what it's gonna have to come down to as he cups your cheeks in his warm hands. He knows there has to be a different approach. One that doesn't involve him making you feel like you were in the wrong for wanting him in a specific way.

"Wanna cum? For me, mama?"

There he went, tearing down your defenses like they're party streamers. For me. Those two simple words were all he needed. He knew exactly how to catch you in his trap. Redirection was key. If he made it seem like a favor to him, you would do it with zero hesitation. It's one of the many pros that came with you and your constant need for his praise... He just knew you too well. Well enough to know that it worked the second the twinkle in your eyes returned.

"I'll take it slow, just like you wanted," he promises. "but, you can't push me away. Even if I bring you to the edge with that same pace you begged for." He knows he'll bring you to orgasm even with the limited movement you allow him.

There was a beam of tranquility in your eyes, a twitch in the corners of your lips, where the key to unlock the two words you strived to hear as many times as you could in a day, rested. It was only a matter of seconds before you would give in. You were right there, centimeters away from his clutches.

"Mama..." he says, pushing for you to answer him while leaning towards your lips again. "Let me make you cum," he says against the corner of your lips, a devilish smirk on his face.

"Fuck- Fine, okay," you say, waving your imaginary white flag.

"Mhm... that's my good girl."

And there they were, those two words you forever longed to hear from Toji. If he wanted you to be on the edge again, he did a great job of getting you there without having to do much.

Toji centered his lips on yours again, starting out with that same slow rhythm, as to not rile you up so quickly. He incorporated his touch a couple minutes later, his hands returning to the previous positions they held on your body—one on your bare waist, the other slipped into your underwear. You jolted at the reintroduced stimulation his fingers offered your clit, a sharp gasp breaking the passionate kissing.

"Shh... It's okay, doll," he murmured, quickly directing your attention back to his lips. He was feeding off your breathy moans and whimpers. If he hadn't pressed you so hard before with the promise of pacing himself with you, he would have gone back on his word and quickly made you cum so that he could work you up to the next orgasm, already.

Truly, you were heaven in his ears, on his lips, and in his hands. Despite not looking at you, he knew the sight to be insane, as well.

Your hands went to the sheets, the material balling up messily in your fists as Toji brought you closer to your peak. You did your best to keep up with his lips, but nothing was as clear as the strokes being drawn between your legs.

By the four minute mark, you were a panting mess, shamelessly chasing more friction from his whole hand. That's where the hand he had resting on your waist came into play. It lowered down to your hip, immobilizing you enough to stop you from taking more than what he was offering until he gave you permission.

"Be good," he mutters, cutting through the soft sounds of your whimpers. He knew you were close. So, so close. Your moans were getting higher in pitch and you were trembling beneath him. He just kept rubbing his fingertips against your clit, over and over, bringing a lingering—echoing sensation throughout your entire cunt. You completely fell apart after a few more strokes, each more pressurized than the other until you snapped. You lost the ability to kiss Toji back when he used the entirety of his hand on you, cupping your cunt to draw out as much of your pleasure as he could. Your head was thrown back into the pillow, waterfalls of lewd moans and cries filling the room. "There you go, mama," he coos, allowing you some freedom to roll your hips against his hand. He presses quick kisses into your jaw and the column of your neck as your face is aimed towards the ceiling.

You surpassed the zenith of your pleasure and in time treaded towards more than you could handle. You nonverbally begged Toji to stop, wrapping your much smaller hands around his forearm. A couple whimpers and squeaks of overstimulation were required for him to slow down to a halt, even after your quivering thighs trapped his hand between them.

Your eyes fell shut and you sighed, contentedly. Toji observed your state of bliss, a shade of pink dusting lightly over his cheeks. You looked so pretty, lying there on the pillow for him. He can see you clearly, despite the curtains being shut to keep your little world safe inside. This allows nothing and no one to peek in, not even the moon and its guiding light. You're more brilliant than the moon, anyway. Much prettier, as well. It doesn't take a genius to establish this, especially when you look at Toji with all the stars in your eyes.

"Let's go again."

[luv-sims]

love affair.

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

you return home for the summer, relieved to be away from university stress. you notice a handsome new neighbour moving in across the street, lee heeseung, moving in with his daughter, sumi. of course- you can only assume heeseung is married and avoid your growing attraction, spending your whole summer lusting over someone you have the hots for- not ideal.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ lee heeseung x fem reader ⊹ ࣪ ˖

warnings | lowercase intended, age gap (21 and 27), 18+, smut, smut, smut!! (18+ only.) mdni please!! idk if I’ll write 18+ content again bc it was so so hard to do, not edited^^

3.9k

the summer sun casted a warm glow over the suburban neighborhood as you pulled into your parents' driveway, the familiar sight bringing a sense of comfort and nostalgia. it was good to be home after a long, tiresome, hair-pulling semester at university.

you step out of your car and stretched out your limbs, relishing the feeling of being free from academic stress, and gross frat boys for at least for a few months.

as you grabbed your filled to the brim bags from the trunk, you notice a moving truck parked across the street. curiously, you found yourself glancing over and saw a tall, handsome man with big eyes, kinda resembling a deer, you think, directing the movers. he was absolutely striking, with dark hair that fell effortlessly across his forehead and a smile that seemed to light up his whole face. you couldn't help but stare, feeling your heart skipping a beat, he was probably one of the most attractive men you have seen in your 21 years of living.

"hey, y/n!" your mother called from the front door, breaking her reverie. "welcome home honey!"

"hi, mom!" you replied, tearing your gaze away from the new neighbor. you walked up the path, your mind still lingering on the man across the street.

inside, the familiar scent of your mother's cooking filled the air. you let out a relieved sigh as you quickly plopped your bags in the hallway and hugged her mother tightly as she let out a surprised gasp.

"it's so good to have you home," your mother said, beaming. "i've missed my little princess so much."

"i've missed you too mom," y/n replied, though still spaced out with thoughts still wandering to the man across the street, you hadn’t seen him around your small suburban area at all, if you had you know for a fact you would’ve remembered..

that evening, as you sat on the porch with your mom and dad catching up, you saw the man again. this time, he was accompanied by a little girl, who couldn't have been more than six years old. the girl was absolutely adorable, with a head full of curly hair and pigtails with a bright, infectious smile. y/n watched as the man scooped her up and spun her around,booping his nose with hers as her laughter echoing through the neighborhood.

"that's lee heeseung," your mother says, noticing your focused gaze. "he just moved in across the street. seems like a young nice man."

your mom says throwing you a knowing glance, with makes you roll your eyes in a playful annoyed manor.

the sight was a bit disappointing, don’t get me wrong- the little girl and her father just looked absolutely adorable, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t a little sad the man was taken with a family, and you were definitely not about to thirst over a married man that lives right across the road with a family.

you nodded at your mother’s words after a long pause, unable to take your eyes off him, though you felt a little guilt. there was something about heeseung that intrigued you, a magnetic force towards him that you couldn't quite explain as you’ve never felt anything like this before.

“y/n, are you listening?” your dad says snapping you out of your thoughts.

you sigh as you block heeseung out of your mind.

“yup.”

over the next few days, you found yourself watching heeseung and his daughter, sumi, from a distance. they seemed to have a very close bond, and you often saw them playing on their trampoline in their yard or walking hand-in-hand down the street to go get ice cream from the neighbourhoods convenience store. despite your curiosity, you felt a pang of guilt each and every time you looked their way. heeseung must be married, you reasoned with yourself. a man that handsome and good looking, with a beautiful replica daughter, surely had to have a stunning wife.

"good morning, neighbour.”

on one summer morning, as you were watering the plants in your front yard, as your mother had ordered and the sun shining on your bare back, probably leaving tan lines on your tank top straps, you heard a voice behind you. you felt goosebumps crawling up on your skin as you heard that familiar soft tone.

you turned to see heeseung standing at the edge of your driveway, a charming smile on his face. up close, he was even more attractive, with warm brown eyes and a chiseled jawline.

you stared him down like a hungry beast, but hey- it wasn’t your fault he decided to walk around in just a pair of sweatpants.

he had also been studying you for a while, his eyes stopping at your exposed neck as your hair had been tied back.

"good morning," you replied feeling extremely flustered, trying to keep your voice steady as it could possibly be.

"i'm lee heeseung," he said, extending a hand. "just moved in across the street."

you stared at his hand, it had looked very big compared to yours as he held it in his palm as you shook hands, the veins in his muscular hands bulging out making you want to scream, god- you were going absolutely crazy over a married man and it was not good.

"y/n," you replied, shaking his hand. his grip was firm, and you felt a jolt of electricity at his touch. "welcome to the neighbourhood heeseung!." you say in the cheeriest tone you can muster up- and you pray he doesn’t hear the nervousness in your voice.

"thanks," heeseung said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "i see you've noticed my little doppelgänger, sumi. she keeps me on my toes."

you laughed in complete and utter embarrassment. could this possibly get any worse? you think, there was no way in hell he had seen you basically watching him and sumi play everyday he had been here so far.

"she's adorable. you two seem very close, she’s too cute to not pay attention to!” you say trying to cover up your tracks.

"we are super close," heeseung replied, a hint of sadness flickering into his glossy bambi eyes. "it's just us two nowadays."

your heart ached at his words, and you felt a surge of empathy for him. "i'm sorry," you said softly.

it couldn’t have been easy, having an absent wife, you thought.

heeseung smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "it's okay. we're doing fine."

“well i hope you guys make up-“ before you can finish your sentence, you get cut off by the sound of sumi calling for her dad.

“sorry y/n, i’ll see you around! duty calls.”

he says before saluting you with a gentle smile which made your heart thump, leaving you with a warm feeling growing in your chest.

as the summer days flashed by, days turned into weeks, your and heeseung's paths crossed quite frequently. you exchanged pleasantries and shared small talk, each encounter laced with an undercurrent of tension that was almost impossible for you to ignore. you found herself drawn to him, your thoughts consumed by his smile, his laughter, and the way he interacted with sumi, so affectionate and loving.

despite your growing attraction, you kept your distance. you couldn't shake the feeling that your feelings for heeseung were wrong, given that he was likely married. you saw no sign of a woman around the house, but you had assumed his wife must be at work or away due to a fight, assuming heeseung’s last words about her.

one warm evening, as you sat onto your porch, lost in deep thought, heeseung approached you quietly. his expression was serious, and your heart began to race with nervousness and confusion, why was he here?

"y/n, can we talk?" he asked, his voice low and hesitant.

"sure," you replied, almost whispering. your mind racing with possibilities. has he had enough of your staring? or even worse- you’re making sumi uncomfortable-

you snap out of your thoughts as heeseung clears his throat, trying to gain your full attention.

heeseung sat down beside you, his gaze intense making you shiver in anticipation. "i've noticed you've been avoiding me," he said. "did i do something wrong?" he says with a hurt expression.

your heart sank. you hadn't meant to make him feel that way. "no, heeseung, it's not that. it's just.. nothing that concerns you.”

“it concerns me if you’re avoiding me y/n." heeseung asked, his eyes searching yours with furrowed brows.

you took a deep breath, deciding to be honest. "i feel something towards you, heeseung. i can’t help it even though i tried. but i know you're married, and i don't want to cause any more trouble for you and your wife- so please just forget about this." you ended with a pleading, embarrassed self.

heeseung's eyes widened in surprise, and then after 1 whole minute of silence, he burst out laughing. your cheeks burned with embarrassment, this is exactly what you were afraid of. what’s the worst that can happen people say? this.

heeseung notices your quiet demeanour and quiets himself down still smiling brightly. "married? i'm not married, y/n," heeseung said, still chuckling. "sumi's mother and i separated a long time ago. it's just me and sumi now."

your eyes widened in shook, your heart soared at his words, but you still felt a twinge of doubt. he has a daughter, and you’re a stranger. there’s no future for you two at all.

"but i see how happy you and sumi are. i don't want to get in the way of that, heeseung."

heeseung's expression softened, and he reached out to take her hand. "y/n, you could never get in the way. in fact, i'd love for you to be a part of our lives, haven’t you seen the way i’d been looking at you and talking to you the first few weeks we were here?”

a flustered smile fell on your face as you looked into heeseung's earnest gaze. "i was so afraid my feelings were wrong," you whispered.

"they're not wrong," heeseung said, his voice low and an unfamiliar tone. "i feel the same way about you, y/n. i've been drawn to you from the moment we met, and it took me this long to realize but i’m here now.”

your heart pounded in her chest as heeseung leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a heated-passion filled kiss. the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, their connection deepening with each passing second.

with the misunderstanding was finally cleared, your relationship with heeseung blossomed. you spent more time together, your bond growing stronger with each shared moment. heeseung's teasing nature and quick wit kept you on your toes, while your warmth and compassion brought more light into his life.

one bright afternoon, you found yourself at heeseung's house, helping him unpack the last of the moving boxes. sumi was playing in the backyard, her laughter a joyful melody in the background as you and heeseung shared kisses and hugs.

"thanks for helping me with this," heeseung said, wrapping his hands around your waist, his eyes sparkling with gratitude. "i don't know what i would have done without you."

you gave heeseung a warm smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "it's my pleasure hee. besides, it gives me an excuse to spend more time with you." you say wiggling your eyebrows.

heeseung grinned, his teasing tone returning. "oh, so you need an excuse now?"

your eyes rolled playfully. "you know what i mean."

as you both worked, the air between them was charged with an undeniable tension. every brush of your hands, every shared glance, seemed to ignite a spark that neither of you could ignore.

finally, as you finished unpacking, heeseung turned to you, his expression serious. "y/n, there's something i've been wanting to tell you."

you frowned at the serious tone and put your hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

"what is it?"

heeseung took a deep breath, his gaze intense. "i haven't felt this way about anyone in a long time, ever since sumi’s mom left me, i’ve felt emotionally unavailable but then you- you make me feel alive, y/n. i want to be with you, and i want you to be a part of sumi's life too."

you felt tears brimming into your eyes as you reached out to cup his face in your hands. "i feel the same way, heeseung. i want to be with you, too."

your lips met in a passionate kiss, the world around them fading into the background. it was a kiss filled with promise and hope, a declaration for your shared future together.

you both quickly separated as you heard sumi’s little foot steps running inside. “daddy, can i please go over to yunah’s house for a bit! she has the new little mermaid movie on her tv!”

heeseung chuckled and pat her head, “go ahead baby, but i’m coming in 2 hours to get you okay?”

sumi squeaked excitedly as she hugged you and heeseung goodbye before running back to her friend.

“we should organize some more hee,” you say turning your back over to him as you felt something in the air shift.

you knew he was watching you, taking in your curve as the sundress you picked this morning just for heeseung hugged you body. the silence hung heavy between you as the air grew thick with anticipation.

heeseung approached you, his footsteps soft against the hardwood floor. your heart raced as he stopped just behind you, his presence filling the space between them with electric energy.

you felt his hands gentle on your waist, his touch sending a jolt through your body. he pulled you slowly towards him, your back pressing against his chest as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

"you have no idea how long i've wanted this," he whispered, his hot breath tickling her ear.

you visibly shuddered at his words, a tingling sensation spreading between your thighs. you knew the tension had been building for the both of you, and tonight you were done pretending it wasn’t there and ready to explore what had been simmering below the surface.

you turned your head slightly, your lips brushing his earlobe as you whispered back, "then take what you want, hee." it was an invitation, a challenge, and a surrender all at once.

heeseung's hands tightened on your waist, his fingers digging slightly into your soft flesh. he spun you around to face him, both your bodies now flush against each other. his eyes searched yours, a question hanging in the air, to which you responded by rising on your toes and capturing his plump lips with yours.

the kiss was fiery and passionate, your mouths moving urgently against each other. you could taste the sweetness of his strawberry flavoured chapstick you gifted him as your tongues danced together. you moaned into his mouth as you felt his hands moving down your body, cupping her ass and pulling you tightly against his growing boner.

breaking the kiss, heeseung trailed hot, wet kisses along your jawline and down your neck. "you have no idea how many times i've thought about doing this," he murmured, nipping at the sensitive skin of your shoulder. you let out a soft giggle, a mix of nervousness and excitement bubbling up within you.

"then show me," you challenged, your eyes sparkling with desire.

heeseung's responded by lifting you up and sitting you on the kitchen counter. he stood between your legs, your bodies still pressed intimately together. his hands found the hem of your dress and slowly began to slide it upward, his eyes never leaving yours.

“you wore this for me huh?” he says looking at you with his lust filled gaze as you shyly nodded.

“god- you’re so perfect-“ heeseung kisses you softly.

you raised your arms, allowing him to lift the dress over your head, leaving you bare before him except for a lace thong. his eyes devoured you, taking in the swell of your breasts, the beauty marks on your body, and the curves of your hips.

"you're so beautiful," he breathed, his voice hoarse with desire.

you smiled, feeling confident and powerful under his intense gaze. "touch me," you commanded, your voice low and desperate for anything at this point.

heeseung needed no further encouragement. his hands found your breasts, palms brushing against the sensitive peaks as his thumbs gently massaged the soft flesh. you arched your back, a soft moan escaping your lips as pleasure began to coil within you.

his hands continued their exploration, tracing a path down your body until they reached the thin strip of lace hiding your most intimate place. he hooked his fingers into the fabric, slowly pulling it down your legs, his eyes fixed on the treasure that was now revealed to him.

you felt your breath quicken as you felt the cool air against your wet center. you watched as heeseung's fingers gently parted your folds, his eyes darkening with desire as he saw the proof of your arousal. he leaned forward, his tongue snaking out to taste you, and moaned as your flavors exploded on his taste buds.

he ate you out slowly, his tongue tracing lazy patterns on your clit as he savored your sweetness. you gripped his shoulders, your head falling back as waves of pleasure crashed over you. you could feel your orgasm building, a coil of tension in your lower belly, and you knew you were close.

heeseung sensed it too, his tongue flicking faster, his breath hot against your sensitive bud. you cried out, your body shaking as the orgasm ripped through you, leaving you boneless and sated.

but heeseung wasn't done. he stood, removing his shirt and kicking off his shoes. you watched, your breath catching in your throat as he unbuckled his belt, sliding his pants and boxers down his legs, freeing his hard dick.

he returned to stand between your legs, his length pressing against her wet center. you whimpered, needing him inside you. heeseung teased you with a smirk on his face, rubbing his tip up and down your slit, collecting your juices, before slowly pushing inside.

you gasped at the sensation of being stretched and filled. heeseung paused,

“are you good, i can pull out if you-“

“no-no, please just move” you whisper against his lips as he leans down to kiss you.

allowing you a moment to adjust to his size, he starts beginning to move as he clasps his hands with yours. he thrust slowly at first, building a steady rhythm as he pushed in and out of you throwing his head back.

your eyes locked, each lost in the pleasure of the other. you met his thrusts, your hips rising to greet each drive, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. you could feel the same tension building in you as you clawed at his back, heeseung's thrusts became much more harder and faster as you let out squeaks.

"cum for me," he groaned, his voice hoarse as his hands gripped your hips tightly.

you cried out as the orgasm swept through you, your body shaking uncontrollably as she clenched around him. heeseung thrust a few more times before grunting, his release spurting hotly inside you.”

as both your breathing slowed, heeseung leaned forward, pressing soft kisses to your sweat-slicked forehead. "that was..." he started, searching for words.

"incredible," you finished, a lazy smile on your face as you cuddled him closer.

heeseung chuckled, a satisfied smile on his lips. "i think we can safely say we've moved past the tension."

you laughed, snuggling closer to him.

"definitely. but i have a feeling this is just the beginning."

despite your growing love, you and heeseung faced a problem that troubled your relationship. sumi, though fond of you, struggled with the idea of her father being with someone new. it took time and patience, but gradually, sumi began to warm up to the idea of you being a part of their family.

one evening, as you and heeseung sat together on the porch, heeseung wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close. "i know it's been a bit tough," he said softly. "but i can't imagine my life without you now."

you smiled at his words, resting your head on his shoulder. "we'll get through it together. as long as we're honest with each other, we can handle anything."

your bond with heeseung grew stronger with each passing day, your love deepening as you navigated the ups and downs of your relationship. you faced misunderstandings and doubts, but your commitment to each other never wavered.

as the summer came to an end, you found yourself so deeply in love with heeseung.

the fact you had to be gone for another year before you could settle down back with heeseung broke your heart.

“hey, you okay?” heeseung said breaking you out of your thoughts, wrapping his arms around your body staring at you from the mirror.

you found your eyes welling up with tears as heeseung frowned, he left soft gentle kisses on your neck trying to make you laugh.

“i’m okay hee.. just gonna miss you and sumi” you say softly as heeseung feels butterflies in his stomach.

he couldn’t believe he found you, somebody so loving and caring, and yet you still loved him even after learning he has a daughter.

he knows it’s a lot, especially for a 21 year old university student. but he knows you try your best, and that’s all he needs.

“we’re gonna be okay, you’ll be back in 6 months and we can be together again, okay?”

you turn around and nudge your nose against heeseung’s as he lets out a soft laugh.

“we’ll be okay.”

@luv-sims

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: mentions of throwing up/having a hangover, cursing, mentions of cheating for an exam, Sam Hwang (long, blond hair skz Hyunjin is who I had in mind for Sam), jealousy, alcohol, explicit content: mentions of jungkook fingering oc with his cum, of oc having sex with hobi

☆word count: 12.1k

☆a/n: the end of the power outage :') hope you guys love this one <3 thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Saturday, February 16th 

It takes most of Saturday before the power comes back on. You’ve been anticipating the sun slipping under the horizon, wanting it to disappear so that you can go back to what it was like yesterday night. Because, when the sun rose this morning, Jungkook disentangled himself from you, and he hasn’t touched you since then.

Maybe because he too realized the enormity of what you did yesterday. But you’ve been expecting the sunset, hoping it would bring you back to what yesterday night was…

The lights in your apartment flicker to life as you sit on the couch, under your bed cover and Jungkook’s. You’ve been reading a book – he’s still on that same book you saw him read on Thursday – and you blink a few times as if not quite believing that the power is back.

That whatever happened between you and Jungkook will now have to be put in the past.

“Finally,” Jungkook says, and he turns his head towards you, as if expecting you to agree. 

You don’t say anything, pursing your lips as your eyes dip down to your book, remaining stuck on a word that doesn’t make any sense to you.

If Jungkook senses your unease, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he says, “Can I turn on the TV? I miss having some sound around here.”

So he’s not leaving. For some reason, you expected he would. It reassures you, and you offer him a smile.

“Sure,” you answer. “But don’t put on one of your lame anime.”

Jungkook’s mouth falls open, and he frowns in offence, fake or real. You can’t really tell, because it makes you laugh, and the moment you start laughing, the expression melts on Jungkook’s face, replaced by a softer look.

“Anime isn’t lame, I’ll have you know,” he says. “You just don’t know how to enjoy superior cinematography.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Oh, can’t I, now?”

He nods forcefully, and he grabs the remote control where it was abandoned on the coffee table. “I’ll show you an anime you’ll actually like.”

“Good luck,” you tease.

He throws you a no-bullshit look. “As if I need any luck.”

You hate that he was right. You hate that, a little under two hours later, you’re crying, trying to hide it from Jungkook. Though, when you glance towards him, you see fat tears rolling down his cheeks, and it makes you forget all about your own tears.

“Are you crying?” you ask, voice so surprised it startles even you.

“I can’t help it!” Jungkook lets out. “I love this movie.”

“Jeon Jungkook crying over some anime?” you tease, and you start laughing. “Why is that so adorable?”

Jungkook chuckles, drying his cheeks. “You think I’m adorable?”

The way he says it makes you flush red, and you quickly look away. “No. But crying over the movie Your Name is.”

“You just said that I’m adorable,” Jungkook singsongs.

You shake your head. “I did not.”

“You did.”

“You’re annoying.”

Jungkook bursts out laughing, and he gently pinches your cheek. You try to shrug him off, but when his fingers linger on your cheek, you turn to meet his gaze. 

You don’t think you were ready for the seriousness of his features. Because it feels like you hit a wall of bricks, and your own smile slowly dies down.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, and you gulp around the sudden lump in your throat.

Jungkook frowns, and his hand falls on top of the blankets between you and him. “Nothing?”

He says it like a question, and it makes you worry at your bottom lip. You wait for him to say more, but his gaze slides away to the TV screen. An awkward silence rises between the two of you, and you think this is it.

This is where the little idyllic whatever-it-was ends.

“We can’t pretend we’re just doing this for warmth anymore,” Jungkook says matter-of-factly. 

“Right,” you let out.

He nods once, and he flashes you a grin, though it’s lacking the authenticity of the smiles he’s shared with you since the start of the power outage. “So, let’s go back to normal now.”

He says it as if it’s the simplest thing in the universe, and it strikes deep. You wonder, were you the only one who felt like you did? 

Did you imagine the whole thing?

You must have. Because a moment later Jungkook is getting up from the couch, claiming he wants to check if the gym has power as well and go work out if he can. You watch him go, dumbfounded, not knowing what to say.

Not wanting to admit that him leaving like that, him pretending that he doesn’t care, hurts. But then again, he’s Jeon Jungkook – why would he care?

When he comes back to the living room with his gym bag and phone in hand, Jungkook offers you a smile. It’s tentative, fake, and you wonder if he put a mask on.

Because this is not the man you’ve spent the last two days with.

“Gym has power, so I guess I’ll see you later,” he says.

You swallow the lump in your throat, nodding once. “Okay.”

He doesn’t say anything else, instead moving to the closet to grab his coat from it. He’s put his boots on by the time he glances towards you again, and he offers you a smirk. “Don’t miss me too much, peach.”

You want to punch him for that sentence alone. It feels like it means more. It feels like he’s telling you, ‘Yes, I put my mask back on. What will you do about it?’ And you know there is nothing you can do. He’s Taehyung’s best friend, and though you’ve enjoyed the days you’ve spent with him, they weren’t real life.

And though the wake-up call is unwanted, you think you badly needed it. 

So you nod once, letting your lips grow into your own smirk, before you reply, “Don’t worry, there’s nothing to miss.”

You see it in his eyes. The temporary flash of hurt, or maybe insult. But he pushes it away, just as well as you, and just like that you know he wanted you to say something, wanted you to chase him. But you don’t chase men – the last time you did left you with a severe fear of running into a certain Sam Hwang. So you don’t do it anymore, and you think it’s more peaceful that way.

Because no matter how great hanging out with Jungkook was, you know it’s just a matter of time before Taehyung comes back and you have to return to your previous distant relationship.

Sunday, February 17th

“Bitch, you went full-on MIA,” Ria says. “You can’t tell me nothing happened.”

You’re in a study room at the library, and Ria has been bothering you ever since Jungkook showed up to his shift, nodding stiffly at the sight of you. You’d waved, and he’d smiled, but he’d then wandered off to do whatever it is that his job here implies.

Obviously, Ria noticed the exchange, and she really doesn’t want to let it go.

“Genuinely nothing did,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “He’s Tae’s best friend.”

“But he’s Jungkook,” she counters, sighing dreamily. “The rumours about him in bed…”

You flush red, and you throw an eraser at Ria, who starts cackling like she’s crazy. “Shut the fuck up,” you tell her.

“No but,” she insists. “You’re blushing. You cannot tell me nothing happened.”

“But I am,” you answer. “Drop it. I’m only blushing because you want to talk about his sex life rumours.”

“I hardly call it a rumour when Shelly’s been so vocal about it.”

It takes you a moment to connect the dots. A moment too long, but then you remember the texts Jungkook had received. 

Shelly. The girl he ghosted on Valentine’s Day because he was with you. Because you ended up kissing him, straddling his lap on a kitchen chair, and he’d later fingered you with his cum.

You push the thought away. You push it so far away you wish you’d forget it, and then you reply, “Who’s Shelly?”

“She’s the two-doors-down dorm neighbour, remember?” Ria supplies. “The one we got shitfaced drunk with before Halloween last semester.”

You barely remember the girl. All that you can think about is her dark skin and the pretty almond eyes that had lured you to your demise. Indeed, you’d thrown up before you’d even reached the party, and to this day it’s still the worst hangover you’ve had in your whole life.

Because obviously, she provided you with plenty enough of shots at the party after that, too.

It’s strange. To realize that you know the girl Jungkook’s been fucking. Before he fucked you…

Another thought you push away. Because did he really? The distance that’s reappeared between you and him is a clear indication that you probably just dreamed up the whole thing.

“Don’t remind me of the Halloween party,” you whine, and Ria bursts out laughing.

“Not your proudest moment.”

You jokingly glare at her, and then you look down at your laptop again. “Where’s Nabi anyway?”

Ria laughs. It’s an innocent laugh, a laugh that means she’s up to no good. Your eyes immediately snap up to her face, and you lean towards her. “What?”

“Not telling you,” she says.

“No way.” When she remains silent but grins wildly, you add, “No fucking way! When?”

“Friday.”

You squeal, and even though you’re in a study room, you earn a disapproving look from the girl sitting at the table outside. You wince in apology, and then meet Ria’s gaze again.

“What did they do?”

“They went on a walk,” Ria admits. 

You wonder if they saw you and Jungkook. Though you figured you would have heard about it if they did.

“And?”

Ria shrugs. “She told me she wanted to tell you herself.”

“Bruh.”

Ria laughs at your expense. “You should have just come yesterday, she would have told you everything. But no, you were too busy doing God knows what with Jungkook, but obviously nothing happened…”

Your eraser is gone when you reach for it to chuck it at Ria’s face. “Holy fuck, let it go,” you groan, but all she does is laugh.

Because if there is one thing that can describe Ria well, it’s her easy laugh. Indeed, you think that’s why you became so close to her so quick – she’s good at changing your mind, at making you smile. And though she definitely is able to have a serious conversation if needed, she’s also easy going, and it’s a relief to have a friend like that when your other closest friend is anxious as can be.

But you love Nabi to no end as well, needless to say.

“I’ll let it go if I can also find someone to fuck,” she says, sighing dramatically. “It’s unfair that you’re both getting some when the last time I did was in December.”

“I’m not getting some,” you grumble, resting your arms on the desk in front of your laptop so that you can hide your face in them.

“Hobi?” Ria lets out.

You’d forgotten all about Hoseok. It surprises you so much that you straighten, meeting her gaze. “Oh. Right.”

She snorts at your expression, before saying, “I tried hitting on Yoongi, but that guy’s colder than ice.”

“He is,” you agree, nodding your head. “But I’m sure he’s a good guy if you make it through all the ice.”

“Not my type,” Ria says. “I don’t want to have to chase.”

“Amen!”

On that note you both burst out laughing, before focusing on your studies again. You both have midterms next week, and though the power outage was a needed respite, you need to get your mind in the game again. At least both of your exams aren’t in your hardest class, especially considering Namjoon provided you and Nabi with a… rather well-guided study guide for the biochem midterm.

Not that you’ll look at it before you’re convinced you could ace the test anyway, if you have to be honest.

And so you study with Ria, the minutes ticking on the clock. Soon enough the minutes turn into an hour, and when Ria suggests taking a break to go grab something to eat, you immediately jump on the occasion, needing a break anyway.

You’re almost out of the library when you run into Jungkook, and Ria stifles a laugh next to you when Jungkook steps to the side, letting you pass. He frowns at the sound your friend makes, and you punch her in the shoulder, which only entices her further.

You roll your eyes, before meeting Jungkook’s gaze. “Ignore her.”

He nods. “Noted.”

And though you should walk away, you can’t bring yourself to take a single step forward. All you can do is hold his gaze, remembering his lips on yours and the way that he touched you like he knew the maze of your body by heart already.

Pink tints your cheeks, and you wish you’d find something to say. Unfortunately, all you can do is watch as a pretty girl, all lean limbs and flowing hair, stops next to him. 

“Hey, JK, I need your help with something,” she says. She barely spares you a glance, and Jungkook nods your way, before turning towards her.

“What’s up?” he tells her, and then they’re walking away.

You’re out of the library when Ria hums, before snorting. “What was that?” she asks.

“What was what?” you counter back, even though you know exactly what she’s referring to.

The longing look exchanged between you and Jeon Jungkook was pretty noticeable, wasn’t it?

“With Jungkook?”

You sigh. “Honestly, nothing,” you answer, and it sounds so genuine you realize that maybe it truly was nothing. Maybe what happened meant nothing, and you need to let it go. “I guess we’re sort of friends now.”

“Sort of,” Ria repeats in a teasing tone.

“You really are a pain in the ass, aren’t you?”

She links arms with you. “And that’s why you love me.”

You begrudgingly agree, letting her lead you outside into the frigid air, towards the café on the other side of the street closest to the library building. She pulls you inside, and the warmth is a relief, as are the aromas of coffee and pastries swimming through the shop. You breathe in, and you follow her to the bar.

You think you almost drop dead when you see the barista on the other side, waiting for you two with a smile plastered on his face.

On those pretty lips you’d worshipped once, and that had turned to poison before you could realize it.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” Sam Hwang asks. 

He freezes when his gaze connects with yours. Maybe he only noticed Ria – you wouldn’t be surprised, Ria is drop-dead gorgeous – but when Sam Hwang sees you, he physically blanches. You wonder what he’ll do or say, if you should turn around and leave, but then Ria orders a latté and a sandwich, and she turns towards you.

“What do you want, I’ll pay for you?”

You still haven’t looked away from Sam. You loved him, deeply. You believe some part of you will always love him. But he hadn’t wanted you. Had taken what he could and left, claiming that he wanted to be single to have the full college experience.

You think about the girl you saw him with at the party a few weeks ago. Is she his new girlfriend, or just someone to give him the full college experience he so desperately wanted?

You gulp, looking away from him. Your eyes fall to the vitrine on the counter where pastries and sandwiches are shown. You blank for a few seconds, and then you motion to an almond croissant. 

“I’ll have this please,” you say.

Ria furrows her eyebrows, looking at you in confusion. “Anything to drink?”

“Just water.”

Her frown deepens, but she shrugs it off before turning to Sam. “That’ll be all.”

He nods, and he punches the order in on the cash register, making her pay before he starts getting everything ready. Ria pulls you to the side as he does so, and you avert your eyes from her, not wanting her to know.

You’ve never told them about Sam. You didn’t see how mentioning a seventeen-day long summer fling would amount to anything, so you just didn’t tell them. And maybe it’s dumb luck, but before this day you were never really faced with Sam. He’d always been easily avoidable, and so it really wasn’t necessary to tell your friends.

“What’s wrong?”

Ria’s question goes unanswered as you keep avoiding her gaze, looking towards the tables. You motion to one in the back, as far away from the counter as possible. “Do you want to sit there?”

Ria doesn’t even look that way. She grabs your wrist, gently, trying to gain your attention. “Girl, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lie, and you offer her a tight-lipped smile that you know doesn’t meet your eyes. 

No, your eyes are filled with memories of the past, of a summer that meant far too much and yet meant nothing, or at least you’ve been telling yourself that ever since you moved in with Taehyung and left your hometown behind.

You think it’s a sick and twisted trick of fate that Sam is going to the same college as you. But then again, you’re not surprised – it’s one of the best colleges in this part of the country.

“Bitch,” Ria lets out, but then Sam calls her to say the order is ready. She frowns, before telling you to go get the table.

You do, mostly because you can feel Sam’s gaze on you, and you really don’t want to have to interact with him anymore. So you head to the table, and you sit with your back to the rest of the café even though you usually prefer sitting in a position that allows you to see the whole place.

Ria is quick to meet you at the table, and she puts down the tray of food in front of you, before plopping down in the chair across the table from you. You watch as she rids herself of her coat, and you mirror her, draping yours over the back of your chair, avoiding glancing towards the bar.

“Who’s that?” Ria asks once you’re facing her again. 

You watch as she grabs the plate with her sandwich and her latté before pushing the tray towards you. You busy yourself with biting in your croissant, but soon enough you know you’ll have to answer.

You just don’t want to revisit your story with Sam. Maybe because it was so short, yet hurt so fiercely you decided to forgo relationships for a good while.

“Just someone from my hometown,” you tell her.

She cocks an eyebrow. “And?”

“There’s no and.” 

You say it sternly, authoritatively, with not a single ounce of teasing. It makes Ria’s eyes widen, and she glances towards Sam. She doesn’t say anything for a while, taking a sip from her latté before she looks at you again. 

“I’m assuming we hate him.”

You sigh, looking down at the croissant in your hands, before sliding your gaze to the cold world outside. “Honestly, not really. We just don’t speak of him.”

“Yeah, that’s it, I hate this dude.”

It makes you snort, and you slightly shake your head. “You know I love you, right?”

“Don’t get sentimental, ew,” Ria teases, though she smiles a wicked smile when you roll your eyes at her. “I love you too.”

After that, you carefully drive Ria away from the subject as you eat, and by the time you’re returning to the library, this time with the goal of meeting up with Hoseok and Yoongi, Ria seems to have forgotten all about it. Or she’s just being a good friend, not pressing you on a subject she can sense is sensitive.

You reckon it’s stupid that it is, but you can’t really control your feelings, can you?

You walk in the library, eyes skimming over the place. Yoongi and Hoseok claimed to be in a study room, yet your eyes don’t go towards them, instead turning towards the counter where you can rent books. Jungkook is sitting there, looking bored as all hell, scrolling through his phone mindlessly.

As if he can sense you, he raises his head, and his lips spread in a small smile even in the distance. You reciprocate it, and thoughts of Sam slowly dwindle away as his smile broadens, and he waves at you. You’re about to wave back, stifling a laugh, when Jungkook’s smile dies, and even in the distance you can see him clenching his jaw.

You only understand why when Hoseok stops next to you, draping his arm over your shoulder.

“Hey girls,” he says, and he pulls you in a little closer. 

You don’t look away from Jungkook as you give Hoseok a half-assed hug, before stepping away from him. Yet Jungkook doesn’t seem relieved, doesn’t seem happy…

Does he care?

You’d ask him. You would ask him what he thought about the last few days, but then again you reckon you shouldn’t. Because he’s your brother’s best friend, but also because he’s your roommate. You can’t afford things growing awkward between you and him, not when you don’t feel like moving to the dorms.

You’d rather keep your apartment, thank you very much.

Hoseok explains that he was on his way back to the study room from filling his water bottle, and Ria and he fall into conversation as he leads you two to where Yoongi is already sitting. Yoongi offers you a curt nod, but he doesn’t smile or say anything, going right back to what he was doing.

He’s got headphones on, and you assume he’s mixing something for a production class from the sight of the screen of his laptop. You end up sitting next to him, as Ria claims the spot next to Hoseok, which you don’t mind all that much.

You think you’ve had enough of men for today, even though Hoseok didn’t do anything wrong.  

So studying it is.

*****

It’s late when you finally decide to head home, figuring you’re done cramming information for your midterm. You’re starting to get a headache, so you decline your friends’ invitation to grab a drink before heading home, and you make your way home alone, hands hidden deep in the pockets of your coat, searching for a small hint of warmth. 

Needless to say, they don’t find any, and you get home feeling like you’ve turned into an icicle. To your surprise, Jungkook is sitting on the couch when you get there, and from the shoes by the door, you understand that Jimin is here too.

You didn’t even notice Jungkook leaving the library. But then again, his shift probably ended a few hours ago, so it makes sense that he came home.

Are you a little disappointed that he didn’t even tell you? Maybe. Do you feel foolish for it?

Definitely.

“Done studying?” Jungkook asks, and he takes a sip from a beer. 

You nod, shrugging your shoulders. “I can’t retain any more information,” you joke half-heartedly. “My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

Jungkook smirks. He fucking smirks, and you want to punch him, yet you stay rooted to your spot. Even more so as he says, “Maybe I could help you with that.”

He’s a mystery. A real fucking mystery, and it’s driving you crazy. You glance towards the bathroom door, but you know the walls are too thin. You know you can’t admit that yes, Jungkook could help.

So you reply, “You wish, JK.”

He pulls at his piercing, his eyes trailing to the bathroom door, before nodding once, as if understanding that you can’t say more because Jimin is here.

“Want a beer?” he suggests.

And though you said no to your friends, though you should say no to Jungkook, the way his big doe eyes hold yours make you fold, and you nod your head. Jungkook smiles, and you think you see a hint of what you saw during the power outage, but it disappears like it was never there when Jimin opens the bathroom door.

“Hey, Y/n!” he greets you.

You begrudgingly look away from Jungkook. “Sup, Jimin.”

He motions towards the living room, and your eyes trail back to Jungkook. “Want to chill with us?”

“Just a beer,” you answer, and Jimin smiles brightly.

“Well then get out of your coat and go sit, I was heading to the kitchen already.”

You thank him, and you do as he says, shrugging off your coat and kicking off your boots. You hang your coat in the closet before walking to the living room. Jungkook is sitting in the middle of the couch, and you sit on his left, as far away as you possibly can. 

If he notices he doesn’t say, instead motioning to the neatly folded blanket on the coffee table that he’s undoubtedly brought from his room. 

“Feel free to grab this if you get cold,” he tells you, offering you a smile. 

You see the glint in his eyes. Not quite mischief, but recognition. Like he knows what the last days were, like maybe he did feel something as well. You gulp, unable to hold the weight of it, and your eyes drop to your lap.

“We should talk about…” you whisper, not finishing the sentence in fear of Jimin hearing.

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say. Because you feel Jungkook tense next to you, and you know his big eyes have probably narrowed as he frowns from your words. 

“What about it?” he asks, not bothering to lower his voice.

You shoot him a warning glance, and his lips tilt in a lazy smirk. Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything else, though you don’t have time to say something either as Jimin comes back from the kitchen, with a beer for you and one for himself in hand.

He gives you yours before sitting back next to Jungkook, and you find yourself watching an episode of an anime you don’t know, sipping on your beer, trying to pretend that you didn’t notice Jungkook shifting a little closer.

That you don’t notice how he pressed his thigh against yours, not once looking at you. It makes you feel far too warm, but you know it’s too late now for you to claim you’d rather head to bed than drink your beer. So you suffer through the episode, even as Jungkook slowly leans into you.

Jimin will notice. It’s all you can think of. When you’ve finally had enough and you scooch away from Jungkook, he throws you a confused look.

You just glare at him, and then resume your attention on the TV. It goes like that for the whole episode, and you’ve never been as thankful as you are right now about the fact that anime episodes are so short. Because as soon as the episode ends, Jungkook straightens, acting as if he wasn’t half sprawled on you.

Jimin doesn’t comment on it. But you know from his momentary slight frown that he noticed, and you can only hope it won’t reach Taehyung’s ears.

You’re as good as dead if it does.

“Well,” Jimin says, glancing at his phone. “I’ll need to go, Sera is waiting for me.”

“Sounds good,” Jungkook says. “Thanks for coming.”

You wave Jimin goodbye as he gets up from the couch, taking a sip of your half-empty beer. Jungkook walks him to the door, and when Jimin finally leaves, Jungkook turns around to look at you, leaning back against the door.

“So you wanted to talk?” he says, cocking his head to the side.

Your throat feels dry, so you take another sip of beer before nodding once. “Yeah.”

“I’m listening.”

You wonder if he’s told that to a lot of girls in the past. Jungkook is the type to run at the first sign of emotion from a girl. You know it, you’ve seen the results on campus. But he can’t really run from you when you share an apartment, can he?

“What should we do about Taehyung?” you ask, pulling at some dry skin on your bottom lip.

The space between you and Jungkook fills with something you’re not quite sure you like. It’s cold, bitter, and it tastes awfully like regret. Especially as Jungkook answers, “Nothing. We just pretend nothing happened, no?”

For that is the logical solution – you know it just as well as he, but for some reason, you don’t like it. Don’t like the way your heart clenches in your chest at the thought.

“Is that what you want?” you ask him.

He slides his hands in the pocket of his pants, shrugging. “Yeah. I don’t see why it would need to be a big deal.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you say. “I’m not trying to make it into a big deal.”

He lazily smirks. “Right.”

You shut your eyes in annoyance, slightly shaking your head. “No, for real,” you insist. “If you want us to just pretend that nothing happened, then we do that.”

“You awfully  sound like that’s not what you want.”

His tone has changed. It’s not playful anymore. It’s serious and you wonder, is that how Jungkook ends things with the girls he fucks? Pretending like he doesn’t care, like you’re just another name to add to the long list?

“I just don’t want things to get weird,” you choose to reply, though your first instinct is to agree with his statement. “Since we live together.”

“Don’t worry about it, peach,” Jungkook says, and he sounds more like his usual self now. “I won’t make things weird.”

You nod, meeting his gaze again. There’s a moment where it feels like the distance between you and him dwindled to nothing, like you’re about to fall into his big doe eyes. You think you spy sadness in those eyes, emotions hidden beneath a thick wall, but he blinks and it’s gone, and you’re back on the couch in a reality you’re not sure you like.

The distance feels grander somehow. Like, maybe the couch moved back. Like a crevice was formed, and you don’t know how to cross the distance anymore. But it’s safer here, safer not to admit to Jungkook that being with him made you feel something. Not only because of Taehyung, but because of Sam Hwang, and of your life before, and of all the little fucked up things in your head that make it so you just aren’t the type of person to date to begin with.

You’re not delusional enough to think Jungkook would want to date you anyway. You were just the forbidden prize, and now that Jungkook has had you, you’re pretty sure he’s just going to move on to the next.

The thought hurts, and you wonder if he sees it in your eyes. Because he’s still there by the door, carefully watching you as if his gaze can convey what words can’t.

But life doesn’t work that way, does it?

You blink, sliding your eyes away from him and down to the beer in your hands, and you take a long sip, letting the bitter taste chase away the aftertaste of the conversation. It doesn’t really do anything, but Jungkook decides to leave, wishing you good night with a half-smile over his shoulder.

When he’s disappeared into his room, you let out a long sigh, trying hard not to reminisce the blackout, and the moments you’d spent in his arms. 

Yet that night, when sleep evades you, you think about that first kiss. About the weight of the emotions, about the way he’d held you. And you feel like, maybe he blindsided you all along.

Maybe you were stupid to think Jeon Jungkook had a heart.

Friday, February 22nd

The bar is filled to the brim with drunk party-goers, and the music is loud enough you can’t hear your thoughts anymore.

“This is a frat party,” you state as Ria grins and nods her head to the beat.

She shrugs. “Who cares, you love frat parties.”

You chuckle, and your eyes slide to Nabi. “Are you sure you want to stay here?”

“Namjoon said they’re in the back,” Nabi replies, but you can tell she looks uncomfortable with the amount of people present. “I’ll tell him to come get us.”

You watch her as she types away on her phone, glancing towards Ria.

“What’s the plan tonight, baby?” she says mischievously when your gaze connects. “Hobi, or do you want someone else?”

Ever since Ria’s learned about Sam, she’s been pushing you towards Hoseok even more. Maybe because she wants you to forget, or maybe because she thinks Hoseok is what you want. And though sex is always good with him, you haven’t reached out since the power outage and the evening of studying you’d spent at the library with him and Yoongi.

He hasn’t reached out either, so you figure it’s all good.

“I don’t know,” you reply. “I’ll see where the night goes.”

Ria nods. “I desperately want to get fucked tonight.”

Nabi surprises you by bursting out laughing. “Saw Jeon Jungkook get in before we did, just go to him.”

You keep your features cool and composed as your gaze slides to Nabi, before going back to Ria. Ria watched the whole thing carefully, yet when you don’t say anything, she replies, “Honestly, I might. Shelly said he’s free to hit on now.”

Because of course Shelly had called dibs on Jungkook. Not that you knew, and not that you cared. You’ve never considered her a friend to begin with, and you’d be lying if you aren’t a little happy that Jungkook decided to stop seeing her after he had sex with you.

Even if you’re pretending nothing ever happened. And he’s good at that – barely even speaking to you except for the formalities, though he did tease you once about looking tired. 

You clench your jaw as the memory fills your mind, and you believe you can hear him say, ‘Need help with that’ all over again. Which, you reckon, you might. Because every night, like clockwork, Jungkook invades your thoughts, and you’re forced to relive the moments he’d breathed against your skin, fucking you like he had all the time in the world.

Maybe then he did. Maybe he even believed it, though he’s been good at pretending he didn’t. So have you. Or at least you hope so.

“Then my plan is to fuck him tonight,” Ria declares solemnly. “I want to know what all those girls are on about.”

You know. You know exactly what they’re on about, yet the jealousy feels like it’s searing through you as you do catch sight of Jungkook when you look away from your friends.

He’s looking this way. He’s leaning against the bar, a pretty long-haired girl next to him. His arm is behind her, and she’s tucked into his side, saying something you’re pretty sure he’s not listening to. Indeed, he doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away, his eyes burning on you. So you make a show of eyeing him up and down before looking away.

Do you feel a certain sort of satisfaction when you notice Hoseok heading this way, which means Jungkook will see you with him? Maybe. 

But you’d never admit that in a million years.

“Hey,” Hoseok says, leaning against you.

He reeks of alcohol, and you reckon you probably won’t have sex with him tonight. But when he goes in and presses a drunken kiss to your temple, you let him do it, eyes sliding back towards Jungkook.

Even in the distance you see how Jungkook clenches his jaw. He’s quick to compose himself though, features relaxing as he turns to the side, facing the pretty girl. She beams at his attention, and your nails dig into your palms as he pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek.

Ria and Nabi hug Hoseok in turn, and they both earn the same kiss you did. It makes you laugh, though Jungkook doesn’t see that, his attention fully on the girl. Hoseok tells you all to follow him, and then he leads you to the back of the bar, where you find Yoongi, Namjoon and Seokjin. Namjoon’s gaze immediately connects with Nabi’s, and he mouths an apology as he motions to his current position as an explanation as to why he couldn’t go get you and your friends by the door.

He’s stuck next to Yoongi, and you highly doubt Yoongi wanted to get up. Yet, you feel like you are intruding on the mute conversation between Nabi and Namjoon, so you look away, your eyes landing on Seokjin.

Seokjin is attractive. Handsome, in a simple, elegant way that only people born into money have. When he smiles at you, nodding his head once, you echo the gesture, though you let Ria slide into the booth so that she can sit next to him.

Because if there’s one thing that you know, it’s that Seokjin is right up her alley. And if that means she won’t go for Jungkook…

You don’t explore that thought further, instead sitting next to her. Yoongi begrudgingly gets up to let Nabi sit next to Namjoon, and Hoseok goes to the table next to yours to ask if he can borrow a chair. He comes back with one, sitting at the head of the table.

Conversation slowly starts around you, Seokjin and Ria speaking with Namjoon in front of them. Nabi is silent, but she listens intently. You can’t bring yourself to join in, instead meeting Hoseok’s gaze and smiling secretively.

His eyes dip to your lips, though they do not darken the way that they usually do, probably from the alcohol in his system. 

“How were midterms?” he asks, with that same slightly slurred speech he sported earlier.

“It was chill, but I’m glad they’re over now. You?”

He chuckles. “Got fucked in a couple of them, but I honestly don’t give a fuck.”

You snort, and before you can say anything, Yoongi chimes in, “Is that why I found you crying the other day?”

Hoseok turns a colour of red so deep you think it’d put a tomato to shame. “I did not!”

Yoongi snickers. “Right.” His eyes slide to you, and you think it’s the first time he’s ever regarded you with something other than animosity. Indeed, he’s got a playful light to his eyes, and you reckon he looks good like this.

You can understand why Ria tried to hit on him.

“He totally did,” Yoongi says, and then he lets out a small, pained sound from the kick Hoseok undoubtedly landed on his leg.

“I hate you, man.”

Yoongi winks, and you burst out laughing, slightly shaking your head. “Honestly, Hoba,” you say once your laugh has dimmed, “there’s nothing embarrassing about crying over your grades. I did it all the time when I was younger.”

“I wasn’t crying!” Hoseok insists.

You and Yoongi exchange a glance, before bursting out laughing again. Hoseok pouts, a frown clinging to his features. Though you don’t really feel bad, you still brush his thigh under the table, and he goes wholly still, his frown melting away.

“Anyway,” he says, clearing his throat. “You want anything to drink?”

You do. You’re thirsty for something to smooth the stress of midterms and Jeon Jungkook away. So you nod, smiling wickedly.

“Lead the way.”

Hoseok chuckles, and you end up taking everyone’s order before getting up to head to the bar behind Hoseok and Yoongi. You’re squeezed behind Yoongi, Hoseok on the other side of him, as you wait at the bar a few minutes later, eyes skimming over the array of alcohol on the wall. You’re planning to order a pitcher of sangria for you and the girls, and Yoongi and Hoseok are taking care of two pitchers of beer. They’re deep in conversation, and you just stand behind them awkwardly, unable to hear them over the sound of the music.

You don’t mind. You focus on your phone, trying to see if Taehyung has replied to the message you sent him earlier. It was late for him in Paris, so you’re not surprised to find he hasn’t, the message only showing delivered. You turn off your phone and slide it back in your purse, before stepping closer to the bar as Hoseok and Yoongi get what they ordered.

“Do you want us to wait for you?” Yoongi asks, taking you by surprise.

Since when is Yoongi friendly with you?

“No,” you answer, eyes darting to Hoseok who’s just smiling with his cheeks flushed red. “All good, I’ll meet you guys back at the table.”

They nod, and you slip past them to lean against the counter, trying to get the barman’s attention. He’s currently on the other side, serving a suspiciously familiar tattooed hand, and you feel like rolling your eyes as you realize Jungkook is clearly buying a drink for the pretty girl at his side.

You forget all about Jeon Jungkook when a certain Sam Hwang slides into your vision, leaning against the counter right in front of you.

You startle. Eyes going wide like a deer in headlights, heart rate picking up to an uncomfortable level. You don’t like that he still has a physical effect on you, and it only increases tenfold when he breaks into an easy smile.

“Y/n!” he says, as if there aren’t months between you, as if on that dreadful day in August, he didn’t just leave. “I thought it was you.”

You freeze. You don’t know what to reply, only look at him as if he’s a jack in the box that’s just exploded in your face. He takes it in stride, chuckling lightly in that gentle way of his that used to make you go crazy.

“How have you been?” he asks, features falling a little more serious, brows slightly scrunched as if your answer will be the most important thing he’ll hear all night.

“Why are you talking to me?” you blurt out, and he slightly widens his eyes as if in surprise.

“Should I not?” he replies, easily tilting his head to the side in that nonchalant way of his. His blond hair falls like a cascade, and you can’t help but averting your gaze to it.

“You don’t wear your hair in a ponytail anymore?”

You want to curse yourself for the stupidity of your question, but Sam’s always been nonchalant. Someone that goes with the flow, that likes the weird things in life. You think maybe that’s why he had been interested in you back then. 

Until he wasn’t.

“No, ponytails are cold in the winter,” he jokes. 

You can barely smile in answer. You wish you hadn’t told Yoongi and Hoseok to go back to the table, and you glance over your shoulder, hoping that they’d sense your unease and come back. They’re nowhere to be seen though, hidden by the crowd populating the bar.

“Are they?” you say, not a single ounce of joy in your tone.

Sam nods. “Yeah. But enough about that. How are you?”

“I’m okay,” you lie, because frankly standing in front of him like this is making you feel anything but okay. You don’t want him to know though, so you try to plaster an indifferent mask to your features.

You highly doubt it works. Because it never works with Sam Hwang.

“I’m glad,” he replies, smiling softly. He turns his head to the side, and you only then notice the barman has stopped next to you. “I’ll have a rum and coke and she’ll take…” he trails off as he looks at you. “A Soho cocktail?”

You blink once, not really believing that he remembers. That though you lasted all of seventeen days, he still remembers your favourite cocktail.

Needless to say, you haven’t drank any since he walked away that night.

“A pitcher of red sangria and three glasses,” you say, looking at the barman. “Please.”

The barman nods once, and then busies himself with making the cocktails. You try your best not to look at Sam, but his piercing gaze lingers on you, and you can’t help but glance his way.

“You don’t drink Soho anymore?”

“This is not a Japanese inspired bar,” you say, trying to avoid the truth. “Highly doubt he’d know how to make a good cocktail with it.”

You know Sam can tell you’re lying, but he shrugs it off. “Oh well. How’s the bio major going?”

You purse your lips, gulping once. Because why does he remember so much? He’d made it pretty clear that he didn’t care… did he?

“It’s not too bad,” you answer. “You? The college experience is up to your expectations?”

If he hears the bite in your voice, he doesn’t care. Instead, he chuckles lightly, shaking his head, before saying, “I really was an ass last summer. I’m sorry.”

It’s like the world stops turning. Like you’re taken back to the warm summer evening, to the docks and the group of friends you hadn’t seen once after that night. You still feel the warm breeze, still can smell the salt in the air, and you almost believe you can hear the waves.

“What?” is all you manage to get out.

He laughs, like it’s the best joke you’ve ever said in your entire life. “I’m sorry for how I treated you. I was a dick.”

“Honestly,” you say, feeling your heart constricting in your chest, “I don’t want to be talking to you right now.”

He furrows his brow. “Oh, come on, Y/n. It’s water under the bridge.”

But it’s not. Because that night he left you alone, and you were far from home not knowing how you’d get back. You’re lucky nothing bad happened – one of the dock workers happened to be your mother’s ex, and he drove you home telling you that the docks weren’t a playground and that you shouldn’t be hanging around there.

You didn’t have the courage to tell him that you had been with friends and had gotten dumped out of the blue.

“Is it though?” you answer, and venom starts to sip into your tone. “You left me alone that night.”

“I know,” he says. “And I’m sorry about it.”

“So, did you get the college experience?” you ask, crossing your arms on your chest. 

Sam scoffs, looking up to the ceiling as if searching for salvation. “Come on, don’t be petty.” He looks back at you, that same insufferable smile on his lips, and he shrugs. “Not really. I realized that none of them compared to you.”

You think the sun has flared and the consequential magnetic storm has fried Sam’s neurons. Because it doesn’t make sense. After months it doesn’t make sense, and you don’t want it. Yet it makes you freeze, and you remember the texts you’d sent him. You remember calling him, even showing up at his job because you wanted to apologize. You remember the embarrassment of his coworkers laughing at you, remember leaving and promising yourself you’d never chase after a man again.

To this day, you’ve held up to your promise.

But his words send you tumbling down a steep slope, and you think you’ll splatter on the rocks at the bottom. Your heart hurts so much it’s hard to breathe, and you wish you could grab a glass on the counter and throw it at his pretty face.

The violent instinct makes you recoil, and you take a step back, only to bump into someone.

“Hey, everything okay here?” Jungkook says, his familiar voice like a safe haven. 

You glance over your shoulder, and at the look on your features, he immediately steps even closer to you, mindlessly wrapping an arm around your waist. 

It’s worth the shocked expression on Sam’s features. His eyes dip to Jungkook’s hand, now resting on your hip, before looking back up to your features. His eyes widen, and he barks out a short, bitter laugh that resembles nothing of his usual cool charm.

“You’re fucking your brother’s friend?” Sam says, and his words hit like darts straight on the board, though the board is your heart. He hits bull's eye, and you immediately push Jungkook off of you.

“I am not,” you reply. “Maybe he just tried to step in because you can’t fucking take a clue, can you?”

Sam seems so startled by your words that he falls silent, mouth wide open. He looks like a fish, a stupid fish, and you wonder how you managed to actually love him once.

“Excuse me?” he finally says.

“You heard the lady,” Jungkook jumps in. “Fuck off.”

“I don’t fucking need your help,” you throw towards Jungkook.

You feel bad. You feel bad the minute the words are out, especially as you watch Jungkook’s features crumbling into a frown. You hold his gaze, slightly shaking your head as if to say ‘Please understand that this is nothing against you’. You’re not sure he understands, and before he’s able to say anything else, the pretty girl who was with him earlier appears, pulling on his arm.

Sam laughs bitterly, all at your expense, as the girl pulls Jungkook away, saying something about how she’s been waiting for him. Jungkook looks like he wants to resist, to stay by your side, but the look on your face does the deed, and he turns away from you, heading to wherever the girl is bringing him.

From what it seems, they’re heading to the bathroom, and it makes you feel like you’re going to be sick, like you might need to run outside to breathe in some air.

“You know,” Sam says, attracting your attention. “I was right when I dumped you last summer. You’re fucking crazy.”

He leaves without another single word, not even waiting for his drink to be ready. You just stand there, stunned, only shaking out of it when the barman says something next to you.

“Oh,” you let out as you glance towards him. He’s put down Sam’s drink and the pitcher of sangria on the bar, and you don’t know what to do for a few seconds, blinking back tears. “Uh, I’ll pay for everything, but I won’t need the rum and coke.”

You assume the barman has seen the entire altercation as he shrugs. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll keep it for myself, no need to pay.”

You offer him a tight-lipped smile, and you pay for the sangria before stacking the three glasses, leaning them against your chest to make sure you won’t drop them on the walk back to the table with your friends. You’re lucky – the trek back to the table is uneventful, and you put the pitcher and the glasses down amidst your friends’ chatter.

Nabi glances at you once before saying, “What’s wrong?”

Maybe you didn’t realize your eyes were filling with tears. But they sure are, and you furiously blink away, plopping down next to Ria.

“Nothing.”

Nabi furrows her brows, right as everyone’s focus slides to you. The embarrassment of suddenly being the center of attention thankfully pushes your tears away, and you shrug once, taking a deep breath.

“Just some asshole at the bar,” you vaguely explain at everyone’s curious expression.

But it wasn’t just some asshole. There was Jungkook too, and you know you owe him an apology. Yet you don’t know how to apologize to him. Not when the grounds between the two of you are so uncertain, like one wrong move will send you straight to the bottommost pit of the ocean. 

“If you tell me it’s that dude from the café I will go feral,” Ria grumbles next to you.

Right. She knows about Sam.

“As much as I’d love to see you going feral,” you tease, “let’s just drink.”

“So it was him?”

You purse your lips, refusing to answer, as the boys all intently listen to the conversation. 

“It was who?” Nabi asks, looking confused.

You’d assumed Ria would have filed her in, but it seems she hasn’t, for Nabi clearly doesn’t know about Sam Hwang. Not that Ria knows a lot to begin with.

“Someone from her hometown,” Ria mimics in her best impression of you, which only makes you snort.

“Let’s just drink,” you insist, and you immediately busy yourself with pouring the three glasses.

Your friends look like they want to press you for further explanation – especially Hoseok – but no one says anything. It’s a little awkward, but the moment you clink your glasses together, the weirdness fades away, replaced by a will to revel like only college kids revel.

And so you do. You lose track of the amount of alcohol you’re drinking, taking shots after shots after shots with Ria, while Nabi cheers on you standing right next to Namjoon. Namjoon, who stands just a tad too close to Nabi for it to be casual. You’d make jokes about it, but Ria drags you away, and you find yourself squeezed on the dancefloor, letting Ria grind on you as people look your way.

You don’t care. You can’t bring yourself to care when you’ve drank so much, when all there is is the music and the lights and the throng of bodies that endlessly moves like countless waves on the ocean, the pull and push of the moon inevitable. At low tide, when the crowd disperses in the night, you find yourself blinking, realizing that Ria is not with you anymore.

As a matter of fact, you suddenly can’t see any of your friends, and if it wasn’t for the alcohol in your bloodstream, you’d be worried. Instead, you pull out your phone from your purse, furrowing your brows at it.

[00:56 am] JK: what’s ur problem lol

You stare at the text, not knowing what to reply. Not trusting your drunken fingers to convey a good enough apology. So you ignore it, instead aiming for the group chat. 

[02:54 am] You: wher arr u

You press send, uncaring for the typos, trusting your friends to be able to decipher. To your luck, Hoseok immediately shoots you an answer.

[02:54 am] Hobi: I’m outside with yoongi, idk about the others

And so you make your way outside, stopping at the coat check to grab your coat. While you put it on, a too-familiar blond guy, along with two friends you recognize from last summer, arrives and Sam shoots you a look, lips slightly curling in disgust.

You frown, and unable to resist, you close the space between the two of you, pulling on his arm.

“What’s your fucking problem?” you tell him as he turns towards you.

“What do you want?” he fires back.

You feel your throat closing up, yet you can’t stop. Not when old emotions resurface, though you reckon they aren’t all that old to begin with. “Why did you leave me alone at the docks?”

He freezes for a few heartbeats. Long enough for his friends to retrieve their coats, and then they turn to look at you. The redhead you recognize for being there that night, yet you don’t direct the question at him. Not even as he sneers at the sight of you, as if you’re just some disgusting trash.

“Y/n,” Sam lets out, and you tell yourself that he sounds apologetic. 

Otherwise you don’t think you’ll make it. Not when you loved him like you did, like only a heart that’s never been broken can.

“Why though?” you press him. “It was dangerous. I could have gotten hurt.”

Sam purses his lips in a thin line, shrugging. “Was it though? You seem perfectly fine.”

You blink away tears, and in a surprising moment of memories of you and him, Sam truly does look apologetic.

“I was in love with you,” you whisper, alcohol forbidding you from preserving any ounce of dignity.

Sam glances over his shoulder. His friends seem to get the cue, because they disappear, heading outside. “Listen, I know,” he says. “I was a dick. That’s why I approached you earlier, but you weren’t really looking to speak to me.”

You take a deep breath, nodding once. “You took me by surprise.”

“Do you want to grab coffee soon?” he suggests.

You’re a fool. A drunken fool, because you say yes. You say yes and to text you whenever, and Sam promises he will, before leaving you alone, like he’d done once all those months ago. But when he leaves, you notice Hoseok by the door, close enough to have heard the conversation.

Your eyes are still brimmed with tears, and Hoseok offers you a tight-lipped smile. 

“Everything okay?”

And because this is Hoseok, because he’s already been in the aftermath of what Sam was to you, you shake your head no, unable to keep the tears from rolling down your cheeks.

“Let’s get you home,” Hoseok gently says as he crosses the distance between you and him, gently pulling you into a hug.

He rubs your back as you sob into his chest, gently rocking you from side to side. Or maybe it’s the alcohol, and the ground feels like it’s tilting under you. But Hoseok doesn’t let you go, and he lets you cry in his arms until the bouncer tells you you have to go out.

You do, eyes undoubtedly red and stained with your runny makeup, yet you don’t care. You really are drunk, and you think maybe you won’t even remember all of this tomorrow.

“You think we can drop her at her apartment?” Hoseok says, and you offer him a confused look, only to realize that he’s speaking to Yoongi, who seems like he’s been waiting outside this whole time.

“She can hit the couch,” Yoongi suggests, shrugging. “I don’t think the Uber driver will be down for the detour.”

And even if you don’t say yes or no, it’s still what you end up doing. You go home with Hoseok and Yoongi, and Hoseok holds your hand while rubbing soothing circles on the back of it. You’re not crying anymore, instead feeling empty and oh so tired. Hoseok helps you out of your coat once you’re in his apartment, and Yoongi goes to the kitchen to pour you a glass of water.

He meets you and Hoseok in the living room, where Hoseok pulled you after you finished removing your coat.

“Here,” Yoongi says, offering you the glass.

You thank him with a slight bow of your head, grabbing the water and downing it in one shot. Hoseok and Yoongi chuckle lightly at the sight, and then Yoongi plops down on the couch next to Hoseok.

Maybe you’re a little too drunk to notice Hoseok leaning into Yoongi, and Yoongi draping an arm around Hoseok’s shoulder. Maybe you’re a little too gone to realize you’re sitting alone on your side of the couch now, but you don’t care.

“Who was that guy?” Hoseok gently asks.

You take a deep breath and then launch into the story. You spare them no details – you reveal everything about how you’d met through friends from high school, most of them not having followed you here to college. You’d met at a party, had a love-at-first-sight moment, and you’d spent the following seventeen days glued to his side. You tell them about the docks, about what he’d told you, and about the way he’d left you there, with no way to go home. Hoseok bristles as you tell them, but he stays silent as you continue, admitting that you said yes to grabbing coffee with him.

“No way you’re going on a date with him,” Hoseok says, and he surprisingly sounds offended.

“I don’t know,” is what you reply.

“Y/n, that guy is an asshole,” Yoongi intervenes before Hoseok can say anything else. He tightens his arm around Hoseok, and you furrow your brows. “You deserve better than that.”

You look at Hoseok, before sliding your gaze to Yoongi, and then back to Hoseok. And then, even though your brain is foggy and you’re confused, and nothing seems to be making any sense, you blurt, “Is something going on between the two of you?”

Hoseok startles, sitting up from where he was leaning against Yoongi. He flushes deep red, and Yoongi lets out a low chuckle. You’re not surprised when Yoongi says, “So what if yes?”

You meet Hoseok’s gaze. He looks apologetic, like he’s somehow doing something wrong, but you start laughing. Maybe it’s an anxious laugh, like a ‘what the fuck is this evening’ kind of laugh, but you still laugh, and Hoseok just looks at you like you’ve grown horns or something.

“I’m going to need an explanation,” you say once your laughter subsides. “Not that I’m not cool with it.”

“See,” Yoongi says. “I told you it would be okay.”

“It’s more than okay,” you add. “I am actually so relieved.”

“Relieved?” Hoseok lets out.

You shrug. “I didn’t want to hurt you more,” you admit. 

And it’s true. You think, the moment you slept with Jungkook, you knew you’d never have sex with Hoseok again. Not that you didn’t like it, but Jungkook is Jungkook, and you reckon you’ll need a moment before you can fuck someone other than him.

“You weren’t hurting me,” Hoseok says, and he looks down at his hands in his lap. “Maybe in November, yeah. But not this time around.”

“I made sure of it,” Yoongi offers as an explanation. 

You slightly shake your head. “Wait, wait, wait. What happened?”

“Power outage,” Hoseok offers as an explanation, and he’s still so red you think he’ll burst into flames. 

You almost blurt out ‘same’, yet you keep it down at the last second. Maybe because you’re sobering up, or because the subject is sobering you up. Maybe because there’s something just so strange about Yoongi and Hoseok together, especially after you’ve been with Hoseok too. But then again, if he’s happy, then you’ll be happy for him.

Realization hits you a second before you say, “Is that why you haven’t been a dick to me anymore?”

Yoongi bursts out laughing. You’ve never heard him laughing like this, and there’s something so cute about it that you get it.

You get why Hoseok would be into him. And you also get why Ria wasn’t able to ask Yoongi out – he’s been into Hoseok all along.

“Maybe,” Yoongi says, shrugging. “Honestly… I was jealous of you for a while.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Dude, I thought you hated me.”

“I did a little,” he admits sheepishly. “But not anymore.”

“Can you guys stop?” Hoseok bursts, and he hides his face in his hands. “Fuck, this is so awkward.”

You laugh along with Yoongi, leaning forward to pat him on the shoulder. “Sorry, I guess as people that both fucked you, we immediately get along well.”

“That’s crass,” Hoseok whines, while Yoongi just keeps on laughing behind him, though his cheeks have turned pink.

“But it’s true!”

Hoseok shakes his head, and then finally looks up to you. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

The sudden seriousness makes you rein in the joking tone, and you offer him a small smile. You hope it’s as genuine as you feel, though with you being drunk, you wouldn’t be surprised if you just look dumb.

“Of course I’m okay with it,” you reassure him. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He tentatively smiles, nodding once. “We are.”

And maybe you’re just relieved they offered a change of subject from Sam Hwang. Especially as Hoseok glances towards Yoongi, his eyes probably conveying unsaid words because Yoongi gets up, wishing you good night. 

You watch him go, and once he’s out of sight, you turn your head back towards Hoseok.

“How did it happen?” you ask with a small voice.

“We got a little drunk on Valentine’s Day,” he says, shrugging, his cheeks still deep red. “I think I said something about you…” His eyes trail to the screen of the TV in front of you, and it reflects you and him like a black mirror. “Yoongi confessed. Said he’s tired of watching me get hurt. I was drunk and I kissed him.”

It reminds you of Jungkook. Of the way he’d gazed at you the instant before he’d kissed you. The weight of the emotions in his eyes had been too much to bear, and you wonder if everything was just a mistake anyway.

“And?” you press, trying to avoid thoughts of Jeon Jungkook and Sam Hwang, though you know it’s useless. 

They’ll come haunt you as soon as you’ll close your eyes tonight.

“And then…” He chuckles awkwardly. “Yeah. It was my first time with a guy. I didn’t even think I could be attracted to men.”

You smile wisely. “College is all about trying new things and discovering new things about yourself.”

“Amen,” he echoes, and you share a short laugh. Once it subsides, Hoseok leans back into the couch, turning to look at you. “Be completely honest with me though. Are you really okay with this?”

You nod, your lips gently curving upwards. “Of course, Hobi. If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.”

He sighs in relief, and it seems like a weight has been taken off his shoulders. “I’m happy. I never saw it coming, but the last few days have been great.” He pauses for a few seconds, letting out a small laugh that’s only meant for himself, and maybe Yoongi if he was still here. “It’s still early to tell where this will head, and we don’t plan to tell anyone before we’re sure of it but… I figured you at least needed to know. Considering our history.”

You nod. “Makes sense. I promise my lips are sealed.”

“Thank you.”

The following silence is broken up by a yawn, and you hide your mouth behind your hand as to not look like a fish out of water. Once you’ve blinked a few tired tears away, you say, “Does that mean I can sleep in your bed and you share one with Yoongi?”

Hoseok runs a hand through his hair, smirking playfully. “Wouldn’t you like it?”

You cock an eyebrow, snorting. “Are you not sharing a bed?”

“Not yet,” Hoseok admits. “We’re really trying to take things slow.”

And it would make sense. Especially for Hoseok, you reckon.

“Fair enough. I’ll miserably sleep on the couch then.”

He laughs, pushing you playfully. “I’ll have you know this couch is really comfortable.”

“Will you at least give me a blanket?” you ask, pouting and bashing your eyelashes, trying your best to look like a begging puppy.

“Stop,” he says, laughing again. “Yeah, I’ll get you a blanket.”

You thank him as he gets up, heading to his room to grab something for you. He comes back with a sweater and a blanket, offering you both without saying anything.

“Sweater?” you ask, unable to form a full sentence.

“If you want to change out of your clothes.”

Ah. Makes sense.

“Thank you,” you say. 

He nods, smiling softly, and then turns around to head back to his room. Before he’s out of the living room, he turns back around, meeting your gaze.

“What about you though?” he asks.

You furrow your brow quizzically. “What?”

“What happened during the power outage?” he specifies. “You just disappeared.”

You keep your features as blank as your drunken ass possibly can when you reply, “Nothing happened. Just didn’t bother to charge my phone.”

“I saw how Jungkook looked at you at the library last Sunday,” Hoseok says. “You can’t tell me nothing happened.”

And maybe because this is Hoseok, maybe because you think he’s becoming the closest friend you have, you reply, “I don’t think it really matters if something happened.”

“Why?” he asks, leaning against the wall as his hands disappear in the pockets of his pants. 

“He’s Tae’s best friend,” you explain, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s not like I have any future with him.”

“Right.” Hoseok purses his lips, holding your gaze as you let him read the truth in your eyes. “The only thing I have to say is, please be careful. Jungkook doesn’t really have a good reputation.”

You gulp around a sudden lump in your throat. “Fuck, I know. I’m a mess.”

“You aren’t,” Hoseok reassures you. “You said it yourself, college is all about trying new things. Some of the things won’t necessarily work out, and that’s okay. Just try not to put yourself into situations where you’ll only get hurt.”

“Jungkook wouldn’t hurt me,” you say, quick to defend him even though you know he totally would. Even though he already did, when he asked you to pretend like nothing happened.

“Maybe.” Hoseok wets his lips, scrunching up his nose a little. “Or that Sam guy would.”

The reminder of Sam Hwang makes you hide your face in your hands as you groan. “I really am a fucking mess.”

“Don’t go out with him,” Hoseok says. “I’m sure there are plenty of other guys out there that would like to go out with you. Don’t settle for someone who’s already treated you like shit in the past.”

“So, don’t go for Sam or Jungkook, is that so?” you say, laughing awkwardly.

Hoseok frowns. “Don’t. Or do. I’m not your mom. But as a friend, I’d say you deserve better.”

“We’ll see,” you say after a few seconds of silence. “Thanks, Hobi.”

And you mean it. Because you know he cares, even though you might only be a friend now.

“Of course,” he says. “And I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

He looks behind his shoulder, towards what you assume is the door to Yoongi’s room. “About me and Yoongi. About the fact that it happened on the day we were supposed to go on a date.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you reassure him again. “It’s really okay.”

He nods once, before pushing up from the wall. “Good. Yeah. I guess I’ll head to bed, then.”

There’s awkwardness in the air. Maybe because a little over a week ago you would have gone to bed with him, would have gotten your guts rearranged by him. But somehow you don’t feel any ounce of disappointment or regret at the thought that it’s done. Maybe because he truly has become a friend, and you reckon you need friends more than you need to get fucked.

“Good night, Hobi,” you say, offering him a small smile.

“Good night,” he echoes, and then he disappears into his room.

Once you’re alone, you quickly change into his sweater, wrapping yourself up in the blanket. You realize you don’t have a pillow, but you figure it’ll be okay, not wanting to bother Hoseok or Yoongi right now. So you lie on your back, looking up at the ceiling, frowning slightly.

Right. You forgot to turn off the light. You get up to do so, and once you’re lying back down, you grab your phone from your purse. You’ve gotten a few more texts in the group chat, from Ria saying that she told you she was leaving and you’d said it was okay. You frankly don’t remember, but maybe that’s because you had been too busy dancing with a group of girls that had welcomed you in their ranks as if you weren’t just a stranger.

It doesn’t really matter. What matters is the text that Jungkook sent you, and with a sigh, you click on it again. The conversation thread opens, and you scroll up, just to see that the last thing he texted you was something about getting gochujang sauce for him at the grocery store one of the rare times that you went. That text dates back to December, and the text before that was about him asking to go pick him and Taehyung up at a party in early October because Taehyung was too drunk for an Uber ride.

Taehyung had ended up throwing up in your backseat, and you made him clean three times before you’d forgiven him.

You reread Jungkook’s latest text. And you wonder, what was your problem? Why were you so inclined to bite at him, too, when he was just trying to help? It’s a haunting question, and you can’t bring yourself to apologize yet. 

You tell yourself you’d rather do it in person, but as you try to sleep later, the real reason taunts you, haunts you, forcing you to lie awake late in the night.

You’re just too much of a coward to face Jeon Jungkook.

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

What did we think of this one? I don't think a lot of people expected that yoongi x hobi twist hahaha I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think:)

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[smileysuh]

ride night TEASER

🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “You always told me you had a thing for older men. Said I wasn’t your usual type- not daddy enough for you, well, here you go, baby. Let daddy hear you moan for my cock.” You seriously can’t believe this is happening. All you can do is try to relax while Hyuck fucks you stupid in some dive bar bathroom stall, your core still throbbing and desperate after six orgasms from a vibrator while on his bike. The fingers on your oversensitive bud are unrelenting, just like your boyfriend, and at this point, you can’t even bring yourself to care that his ride night dad is listening in, only a few feet away. 

tw/cw. Exhibitionism, riding a Harley with a vibrator inside of you, multiple orgasms, fucking in a bar bathroom while someone (John) listens in, overstimulation, unprotected sex, vibrator as a ball gag, voyeurism, dirty talk, praise, choking, brief pussy eating, Hyuck has tattoos, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 4.9k

🍭 aus. Established relationship au, motorcycle au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. The I love Harleys saga continues but this time with NCT

You close your eyes, giving in to the onslaught of sensations. 

The air ripping at your tight riding jacket, gravel buffering your knees ever so often, music ringing through your helmet, the powerful vibrator in your pussy, and the even more powerful machine that Hyuck maneuvers like a God-

If you focus too hard, if you allow yourself to enjoy all of this, you might just cum, and part of you wants to resist that, so you open your eyes, looking over at John on the bike next to you.

Hyuck might be the notorious dare devil, but John’s not all that angelic either. The man is standing straight up on his foot pegs, his butt raised completely off his seat. The wind is tearing at his leather jacket, and you can’t even imagine the pressure of the air he’s cutting through, battering at his body-

Even so, he looks as free as you’ve ever seen a man look.

Your pussy pulses pathetically around the toy and you grip Hyuck’s hips, legs shaking around his own.

His hand lands on your thigh, squeezing, as if to say ‘cum for me,’ and your body can’t help itself this time. You release all the pressure, your muscles going slack for a moment of peace before contracting from the power of your orgasm.

Your core throbs desperately around the vibrator, your eyes closing to enjoy the sensation.

Hyuck takes his hand away from your thigh, revving the engine and kicking into an even higher gear. The bike purs below you, as if she - like her master - is amped up from the energy of your release.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 3.9k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or wait till the fic is posted on tumblr Friday June 14th, 2024

🔮 see what’s already available to read on my m.list

There are limited spots available on the taglist, if you want to be notified when this fic is posted, please reblog, comment, or reply- those three actions will be prioritized in taglist creation :)

[whatshehassaid]

I’m just saying but look how cocky and smirky and like “how did you know about that my beautiful boy?” Armand’s expression is when Daniel brings up the fire… (the only time we’ve ever really seen him actively trying to read Daniel’s mind was the seventies clips where he’s leaned forward like this)

And then it triggers a memory of Armand in the 70s in Daniel and LOOK how Armands face changed from cocky and curious to “oh my god he remembers me”

And then how he has to tear his eyes away from Daniel cause he remembers that Louis is there and I don’t think Louis remembers the fire by the way in that moment he says “the fire?” Like he doesn’t know what Daniel is talking about.. but like LOOK how Armand even as his head is turning toward Louis his eyes are GLUED to Daniel until the last possible second

I think Armand thought Daniel would never remember him cause he didn’t think Daniel loved him in the past. He thought he was addicted to his blood- but now he’s like, “oh shit?”

Y’all the MICRO EXPRESSIONS… THE ACTOR ASSAD ZAMAN IS HOLY FUCK.

[wintersbitterfly]

✩ˎˊ˗ star-crossed lovers

genre—forbidden love (?)

pairing—siren karina x princess fem!reader

disclaimer—karina only speaks a bit of broken english just for the concept of this fic.

the sound of the waves crashing against each other made you feel at peace as you sat on the rocks that were along the beach shore.

you weren’t worried about any potential dangers by being here. nothing had ever really happened to you. although your father tells you never to go to the beach past dark, you don’t listen.

plus, there was a certain someone that you would always wait for here by the rocks of the shore, hearing her song always let you know she was nearby.

suddenly, a splash along with tiny sprinkles of water hitting your face and arms made you let out a small shriek and covering your face before looking up, seeing her.

she had a goofy grin on her face as she looks up at you, her long black hair flowing in the water.

you smile a little, “that’s how you decide to greet me, karina?”

karina lets out a small laugh before swimming up to join you on the rocks.

“did you have any trouble getting here? i know the currents have been getting strong lately.” you ask the siren sitting beside you.

she shakes her head, “i strong swimmer.”

“i don’t doubt it,” you giggle.

“i bring present for you,” she says before showing what seemed like a necklace in her hand.

it was a crystal gem that was a beautiful blue color, held together by the strong string karina had found to use for the necklace.

“wow…rina it’s beautiful.”

karina reaches to put the necklace around your neck, “you save me. i, now, owe protect you. necklace, keep you safe.”

you look at her confused, “protect me?”

she nods, “necklace magic. protect you from my kind. scream or song no affect you, even mine.”

a smile is brought to your face before you feel her take your hand in hers, “i promise, i protect you, with my life.”

she brings your hand to her lips leaving a small kiss on the back of it.

“i promise to do the same.” you tell her.

you never expected to have fallen for a siren, ever in your life.

growing up, your father has said to beware of such creatures because they are dangerous.

and while that may be true, your opinion of sirens has changed because of karina.

she was a sweet and loving girl who just wanted a mate to call her own.

and besides, you did save her one time.

you were walking along the beach, the current strong and you were trying to be more careful as you balanced on the edges.

it was only when you heard a small shriek that made you freeze. another shriek was heard which had you searching for what was making that noise.

what you saw made you feel a pang of sympathy and worry.

a siren.

her tail was trapped under a rock that was surely putting her in a ton of pain.

tears left her eyes rapidly as she tried to move, but to no avail.

you slowly made your way to her, and when she saw you, she was quick to hiss.

“i-it’s okay. i won’t hurt you. let me help you.” you reassure as you walked closer to her.

she only hissed at you once more before you moved in front of the rock boulder, and used all of your strength to push it off her tail.

she cried out feeling it roll across her tail, but the pain was finally subsided when it was completely off.

you look down at her tail seeing it was slightly crushed. thankfully, sirens can regenerate just fine.

but it still made you feel sorry for her.

“i know it hurts. if you stay here, i can bring something that should help. i won’t be long.” you tell the siren.

she only stares at you with a uneasy expression; she was scared.

of course she was. she was a siren caught in plane sight of a human. she was for sure going to end up dead.

but all that worry went away when you had come back with a bottle of what seemed like medicine?

would it even help for a creature like her?

she didn’t know, neither did you. all she knew is that the pain wasn’t in her mind anymore.

it was just filled with thoughts of you.

who were you? and why were you so pretty and nice? and what kind of human were you that you didn’t try and kill her on sight.

after giving her the medicine, you look up at her, “this should help.”

karina didn’t say a word, but she only decided to go on her way, swimming back in the ocean and away.

“you’re welcome…” you sigh, but you couldn’t help but wonder if you would see the siren again.

and surprisingly from there on out, you both kept meeting one another everyday.

you’d check on her tail, and thankfully, it was healing just fine.

she was thankful, though she didn’t really speak much.

“you don’t really talk much, do you?” you ask her.

she simply shrugs.

“well…my name is y/n. what’s yours?” you were met with a blank stare and silence once more.

you sigh, “i guess i’ll do most of the talking…”

to your surprise, the siren was willing to meet you everyday. she would meet you always by the time the sun goes down when you’d sneak out from the castle.

and who would’ve known that you both would soon eventually fall for one another…

“what you think about?” she asks tapping your head with her fingertip.

“just about you.” you smile.

“i think of you, too. a lot.” she confesses as she scoots closer to you.

the sudden confession made your heart beat faster as she was closer to you. maybe she felt the same way.

karina’s never felt any kind of romantic love in her life, and maybe it was because of how sirens worked.

she couldn’t deny that sirens were violent creatures. it’s in their nature.

but growing up, all she ever thought and yearned for was for someone to love and to love her in return. she never thought it would be with a human, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“do you ever think our kingdoms will ever come together?” you ask looking out at the moonlight settling on the water of the ocean.

karina shrugs, “human siren war for long time. i think it take long time to stop.”

the siren wasn’t wrong.

the war between sirens and humans have been continuing for centuries, only stopping for a brief moment ever since your father and mother had you, as well as karina being born.

but due to the safety of you both, your parents had forbid you from the waters, and karina from the surface of the land.

“but, i know…i be with you. i want you. nothing stop me from you.” karina says, “i no care what father says. you, my mate. i, your mate.”

you smile a little as you look at karina, a small grin on her face.

you hold her hand in yours, her lips land on your cheek as a sweet moment was held between the two of you.

maybe one day you’d both be able to bring your kingdoms at peace.

but for now, you both remain in secret.

maybe…

© WINTERSBITTERFLY 2024

[pshcomforts]

➳ try again | psh.

dad!sunghoon x mom!femreader

“even if we have to go back a long way, i will still feel the same way about you”

synopsis: sunghoon rushes to comfort you after finding out that his daughter, seo-ji, had fainted and been hospitalized.

warnings/content: written in third pov. angst. kind of heartbreak. teensy bit suggestive at the end. second chance. comfort. not proofread. fluff ending :)

comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated :)

word count: 3.1k

a/n: part one — ₊˚ʚ broken love ɞ˚₊

༘˚⋆𐙚｡masterlist⋆.✧˚

current song playing: try again by jaehyun & d.ear

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

0:48 ──────|───────────── 2:10

[ 5:47am ]

y/n stayed in the waiting room alone, impatiently shaking her legs as tears flowed down her cheeks. her fingers picked at each other, scratching whatever to calm herself while waiting to hear back from a doctor.

“please be okay..,” she mumbled to herself, throat choking at the amount of tears that were getting caught up.

“y/n,” a voice called out to her.

her heart dropped to her stomach, already recognizing the person that particular voice belonged to. she heavily breathed, tears still flowing as she stood to face the figure.

“sunghoon..,” she weakly responded.

the male softly gasped before running to her, engulfing his ex into his arms. his hands stroked her hair, instantly soothing her as her sobs got louder.

“sunghoon….,” she quietly croaked again, unable to stop the worried cries for their daughter.

hoon’s heart fell apart at the way she held onto him for comfort. he rubbed his hands against her back while softly tearing up. “you’re okay, gorgeous, i’m here now.” he mumbled, not realizing the nickname that sipped past his lips. “slowly tell me what happened to our baby girl.”

he pulled away, still leaving gentle strokes against her cheeks as he stared into her. “can you do that for me, y/n?” his soothing voice whispered, pushing back a few hair pieces behind her ear.

✩ ‘no matter how many times we fall apart’ ✩

the girl’s breath hitched, swallowing down a few sobs as she nodded her head. “i heard seo-ji cough in the middle of the night, and i went to go check up on her, but she had such a high fever..,” she let her gaze fall down. “and it was nothing that’s happened before, so i rushed to the hospital but she had already fainted.”

y/n felt her lips tremble as she quickly covered her face to hide her tears. the guilt from being a mom was suffocating her, making her overthink about the possible sicknesses her daughter could come down with.

“i should’ve slept with her, i should’ve just stayed in the room with her.”

tears flooded her cheeks again when she thought about the pale face seo-ji had, instantly feeling remorse.

“i’m sorry…,” she hoarsely whispered to sunghoon. “this was all my fault. if i had just stayed in the room, i would’ve been able to notice her much sooner.”

hoon’s gaze softened as tears flowed down his cheeks, body falling in pain of the way the girl he’s loved crumble apart. “y/n..,” he muttered, reaching for her face.

✩ ‘like i said, we’re the ones that matter the most’ ✩

he cupped it, forcing her attention to lay on him as he admired her beautifully sparkled eyes. “this was not your fault. we both know that, seo-ji just grew sick and you’re a great mom for quickly bringing her here, okay?” his thumbs rubbed her cheeks, wiping away the tears while continuing, “i’m sure our baby girl’s okay. she’s strong just like her mom and dad, she always has been from day one.”

✩ ‘we’re not meaningless’ ✩

the girl sniffled as his words instantly brought her back to when their little girl was still a new born.

seo-ji was a preemie, and had just gotten out of the hospital after having to spend her first two months there for incubation.

sunghoon and y/n were so excited to bring their baby home and introduce her to the new world when she began to struggle for air.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ — flashback

y/n fell upon her knees as preemie seo-ji had been taken to the nicu. tears uncontrollably ran down her cheeks, feeling her heart break into a million pieces each time she thought about her baby fighting to breathe.

hoon was quick to hold onto her, arms around her to create a comforting environment as heavy breaths left him. he felt his throat constantly get caught between air, lips trembling when he remembered his little girl who was too small to even hold.

“it’ll be okay, y/n, our little girl will breathe.” he soothed, giving back strokes toward his wife. “seo-ji is a fighter, and i know she’ll be fighting for her mommy and daddy.”

y/n clung herself to his chest before pulling away, eyes puffy and red from her cries as she mumbled, “you’re right, hoon, she’s our strong girl.”

sunghoon’s lips curled while tears still streamed across his face. “that’s right, pretty girl, she’ll get through this because she wants to meet us.” he leaned in and placed a long, sweet kiss on her forehead, sniffling away the remaining sobs as she nodded.

“seo-ji will meet us,” the girl murmured with optimism.

“that’s right, she will.” he replied, clearing his throat before pulling his favorite person into his arms again.

the two new parents held onto each other as soft tears still ran down their cheeks, clinging onto the hope that their little girl was indeed a fighter.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

y/n shut her eyes in the pain of that memory, hating how her heart stung at it.

she missed how they were, missed how much of good parents they used to be together.

she quickly chewed her lips, directing the pain elsewhere besides her heart as she nodded at sunghoon’s words.

“our baby’s been through a lot, hoon.”

he let out a soft sigh, faintly blushing at the name while letting his head hang low with a nod in silence. “she has, but that’s why she’s so special.” his finger hooked under her chin as he gave a half smile. “she’s gotten it from us.”

y/n’s heart immediately melted, gaze softening at the boy she’s always loved.

she missed this so much. she missed him.

“sunghoon..,” she murmured.

✩ ‘i’m taking a step forward and’ ✩

“yeah, gorgeous?”

a quiet gasp escaped from her, leaving her audibly speechless as his eyes poured with love.

“how long do you plan to stay?”

the wrong question left her and she hated it, but she wasn’t even sure of where he stood.

she watched as his eyes squinted in disbelief. “never.” he firmly spoke. “i’m not leaving you alone tonight.”

✩ ‘i’m telling you what the past has shown us’ ✩

y/n’s heart fluttered, catching herself fall in love with the same college boy all over again.

“you don’t have to—“

“i’m not leaving, y/n.” sunghoon confirmed with his brows slightly scrunched.

when he found his ex lover almost grow a worried look, he quickly corrected himself — “until i know seo-ji’s okay.”

oh.

her throat ran dry as she hesitantly nodded her head. “right.., for our daughter.” she croaked, shaming herself away when she felt her heart burn.

hoon sighed. he didn’t know why he felt the need to correct himself, but he wasn’t even sure of where she stood.

his hands gripped onto hers, fingers tightening around as he murmured, “i’m sure she’ll wake up any time soon.”

y/n agreed, giving a soft hum while clinging her fingers onto his as well. “i know she will, i just can’t help but worry for her.” she replied.

sunghoon pulled her into another hug, arms wrapping around while her hands fisted and laid on his chest. “i worry for our baby too.”

he pressed a kiss onto the top of her head, reeling in the comforting warmth he’s been missing.

he wanted this love again, he wanted her.

the two continued to lay against each other, bodies pressed close as time grew closer to morning.

[ 6:32am ]

the doctor cleared her throat, catching the attention of two exhausted parents.

y/n removed herself first, sitting up straight while sunghoon wished he was able to softly wake her like he used to.

“is seo-ji okay?” she worriedly asked, and the doctor nodded her head.

“she’s doing just fine, she’s currently resting as we speak.”

“can we see her?” hoon questioned, brows furrowed and heart pounding.

the pediatrician nodded her head once more. “of course, she’s just asleep but there is nothing to worry about. she’s just come down with a cold.”

y/n gulped, still feeling the guilt resent her as she muttered, “and her faint?”

“she only fainted because of how much her body was trying to fight the bacteria in her system, but rest assured, she’s doing great now. would mom and dad like to see her?”

the girl quickly turned to her ex-husband who wore the same expression as her, both furiously nodding.

the doctor directed the two to follow her and they did, walking past other rooms until they reached their daughters.

as soon as the door slid open to their little girl resting in the hospital bed, tears quickly filled their eyes.

“seo-ji…,” y/n softly cried, speeding to the side of the bed. “mommy’s sorry.”

her hand moved a few wavy hair pieces out of her child’s face, gently grinning at the familiar hair texture. her eyes filled with love as she never let her gaze leave seo-ji who remained peacefully asleep.

“i’ll give you guys a moment,” she heard the pediatrician say.

sunghoon approached near his girls, placing a warm hand on y/n’s shoulder as she continued to softly sob.

“i miss our lively girl, hoon.” she mumbled, placing a hand back onto his.

“i miss her too.”

he let out a quiet sniffle as tears filled to the rim. “she got that from you, you know?” y/n said, grinning ear to ear at the small memory of sunghoon and her being extroverts together.

he chuckled, toothy smile flashing when he murmured, “i think she actually got it from you, y/n.”

she shook her head, still peering her gaze into her baby girl. “she got it from you, mister loud introvert.”

he chortled out a laugh, eye smiles creasing at the familiar name she always gave him back when they were still dating.

“okay, fine, you might be right on this one.” he laughed again, laying his eyes on his favorite girl, who still didn’t notice the longing stare.

“i know i am,” y/n gleamed, earning another chuckle to erupt out of the two.

it felt right again.

no tension, no bitterness — just two loving parents with their baby.

sunghoon remained to stay attentive on her, mumbling, “y/n..,”

“hm?”

she finally turned, finding the boy already meeting her gaze. her face subtly grew shock but still raised her brows to question his calling for her.

“i…,” his throat suddenly ran dry, not knowing if he should risk it.

the atmosphere became quiet, silence filling every particle in the air as she remained confused when most of her attention stayed on seo-ji.

“i should go..,” he mumbled.

y/n fluttered her eyes down, avoiding his prominent stare while nodding her head. it was obvious her heart shattered at his words, but if she was gonna stay as a single mom, then she should prepare for worse.

“o..oh…,” she softly croaked. “okay.., that’s fine. we both know seo-ji’s okay now, so no worries. you can head off if you need to.”

she forced a smile on her lips, attempting to give reassurance with a head nod.

sunghoon breathed, feeling his heavy heart burden even more. “you don’t need me?” he asked, wishing she’d fight for the relationship.

“seo-ji needs you,” she confirmed. “but if you have to be somewhere else, that’s okay too, hoon.”

the boy pressed his lips into a firm line, silently nodding before heading for the door.

he almost walked out, almost left the possibility of them being together again when his heart called out for her.

he couldn’t leave, not this time.

sunghoon turned, watching how y/n laid her head on seo-ji’s side tummy ached him. he needed to be there. he needed to be with his daughter, and the girl he’s been wanting his ending with.

his feet pushed him closer, swallowing a harsh lump in his throat as he spoke, “y/n.”

she turned her head and his gaze grew soft. he kneeled down next to her, cupping her cheek while uttering, “i still love you.”

adrenaline instantly rushed in her veins as her heart fluttered. “hoon..,” her mouth fell open, too shock to say anything.

“i still want you. i don’t think i’ll ever love anyone else besides you, you’re the only one who completes me. if we have to start again, then we will because i’ll be in love with you each time we have to go back.”

✩ ‘so whenever you ask me again how i feel’ ✩

his hand pushed her cheeks up, making her eyes fall on him. sunghoon’s lips softly curled as he displayed hope in his eyes. “my answer will always be you, y/n. no matter where we stand, it’ll always be you.” tears welled up as he pulled her closer, letting his head bunk against hers.

✩ ‘please remember, my answer is you’ ✩

“sunghoon,” she mumbled, gently pulling away.

he felt scared, afraid that his ex-wife would push him away. he didn’t want to let someone special like her go.

“i still love you too.” his face instantly relaxed, making her grin as she continued, “i love you so much, hoonie. nothing can break that away from me. i always believed you’d be my soulmate, and i know you said we could restart but..,”

she stroked his cheeks with her thumbs, admiring his charming features while uttering, “how do we know we won’t make the same mistake again? we divorced so our little girl wouldn’t grow up with constant arguments in the house.”

sunghoon hummed as he gave a faint grin. “we won’t go through that again, i’ll make sure we won’t. i don’t want to ever lose you.” he replied. “it was hard enough to see that we both walked away from this.”

the boy leaned in, lips ghosting over hers with a desire. “whatever problem we have, we’ll fix it, y/n. do you think we can try again?” his breath fanned against hers, making her lean in as well.

“yes, hoon, we can.”

✩ ‘we’ll be alright, i want to try again’ ✩

he plastered on a wide grin, flashing his fangs before he pulled his girl into a kiss. his hands held onto her cheeks, moving her into place as he pressed his lips against hers.

sunghoon quietly groaned in satisfaction, finally tasting his craving. he felt her hands wrap around his neck, pushing them closer until she pulled away with a need for air.

he kept the smile on his face as he remained close, pressing sweet kisses on her lips.

“missed kissing you, you know that?” he mumbled against her, earning a laugh and a hit to the shoulder like they were college kids in love again.

“sunghoon, we’re still in a hospital.”

he pursed his lips into a firm line and hummed. “is there a rule that says we can’t kiss in hospitals?” he leaned in again but she pulled away, earning a quiet pout.

“let’s focus on our daughter, okay?”

y/n stood, allowing him to stand as well. his arms instinctively wrapped around her waist, giving a back hug while pulling her closer to his chest. she missed this clingy side of him.

“you think she’ll be able to handle being an older sibling?” hoon asked, causing a gasp to be heard from his favorite girl.

“park sunghoon!”

he quickly chuckled, muzzling his head into her shoulder as he murmured, “i’m kidding…, seo-ji would be a great sister though, just saying.”

the male pressed a kiss against her neck, letting y/n softly laugh as her hand held onto her baby’s hand.

“maybe later in the future…, but for now, i’m okay with our little girl.”

sunghoon softly huffed, faintly wishing to be blessed with a baby boy as his hand held the two. he let it wrap around, bringing warmth while y/n let one of her fingers be placed in the palm of seo-ji’s hands.

she gave faint scratches, hoping the best for her daughter when she felt a sudden squeeze. her mouth fell open, heart loudly pounding in her chest as she turned to sunghoon.

the two were instantly reminded of when preemie seo-ji had to be taken back.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ — flashback

they stayed at the nicu as one of the nurses gave the baby to sunghoon, allowing him to finally hold his daughter after weeks of waiting.

tears rushed to his eyes with how little she was, barely feeling her weight while grinning ear to ear. every pressure on his shoulders immediately dropped once he had his daughter in his arms.

“hey baby..,” he whispered. “how are you doing?”

y/n’s heart softened at his voice as she glanced down to her baby. “mommy and daddy missed you very much,” she smiled. “stay strong so we can take you home, okay baby seo-ji?”

her fingers gently rubbed her cheeks, watching the little girl coo at the action earned tears to well up in her and sunghoon’s eyes. she then let her fingers run to the small hands seo-ji had, giving soft strokes when she felt the hand tighten around.

it barely wrapped all the way, but seo-ji still kept her grip tight, soon smiling with her eyes closed.

there was that cute grin inherited from her dad.

“hoonie,” y/n harshly whispered. “do you see that?? she’s holding my hand!”

“lucky,” he fumed.

“you’re literally holding her,” she murmured back.

“i want her to hold my hand too…,” the boy pouted.

y/n softly laughed as she rolled her eyes, putting her attention back onto her baby while sunghoon remained locked on his pretty girl. the genuine smile she had from the little action melted his heart, making him fall for her even more.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

their eyes filled with love at seo-ji who clung her hands around y/n’s finger, as if nothing changed.

sunghoon’s lips coiled, loving the fact that he got to relive this heartwarming moment with every mental picture he took. 5 years later, and it was the same tender feeling.

he laid his head on y/n’s shoulder again, finding comfort in it as he murmured, “you think she’ll be surprised when she finds out we’re together again?”

the girl laughed, rubbing her baby’s hands while nodding. “she definitely will, but she loves us together anyway,” she replied, grinning widely at the healing wound in her heart.

hoon agreed, pressing a soft kiss onto his girl’s forehead before they sat in the chairs of the room.

the two curled up against each other once more, y/n resting her head against his broad chest as he engulfed her into his arms, letting his head fall on top of hers with a soft sigh.

no more open wounds, and no more pain — sunghoon and y/n were giving it a try again, and were definitely not letting each other go this time.

✩ ‘we’ll be alright, please try again’ ✩

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

taglist: @ni-kisgf @yeonjinnie @normasagrary @yongbokified @woniess777 @angelpatch-p @en-verse @en-chantedtomeetyou @hoonieluvr @velvetkisscs @pshlov @mintchocos-things @waywen03 @jakieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee @eneiyri @h4918ymc @bluejay3m @huan9jun @adroitlane @ashgonedash @ethanatvre @jinxpastels @shuichi-sama @lovelycassy @leeyu-ri @briefbananaarcade @evelynlvly @myheelody @ikaw-at-ikaw @jooniesbears-blog @zyvlxqht @powerpuffstuts @nilas-posts @moonchus @imjakes-wifeofc1 @mnxnii @cleverwastelandsheep @becskz @bubblybunny97 @doyunkang @yanggarden106

+ a few others i thought would want to be tagged. also the ones bolded, i couldn’t find your profiles, so sorry!

[jflemings]

— loose lips sink ships pt4

pairing: jessie fleming x reader pt 1, pt2, pt3

synopsis: jessie’s lack of proper explanation has her pleading

warnings: so so angsty, language

a/n: lol

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍁 ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

the tick of your eyebrow tells jessie that this isn’t going to be one of those times when you two talk it out.

“great!” you say clapping your hands “so do you mind telling me why you said that bullshit instead of behind honest with me about your two and a half year relationship?” your falsely cheery tone paired with the sarcastic smile across your face is unsettling for jessie. “and while you’re at it, why don’t you tell me what the problem with this photo is?” you say as you slide your phone across the counter. the photo that was on jordyn’s story stares back at jessie.

“y/n” the canadian starts “i really— it’s not—” she huffs and scrubs a hand over her face. “i was standing up before the photo and she moved over so i could sit down. there wasn’t much room so we had to squish together, and she stood up pretty much immediately after the photo was taken”

you nod once as you purse your lips “and the lying?”

“i didn’t mean to” jessie says, now leaning back “it just came out and i don’t know why i didn’t correct myself”

her reasoning makes you feel worse. you think you maybe would’ve preferred her purposely lie and stick to it, rather than stick to an accidental lie for almost four years. tears begin to well in your eyes as you watch jessie cast her gaze to the floor in front of her.

“so you kept up with an accidental lie for almost four years because… what? because you couldn’t tell me the truth afterwards? because you didn’t think it was anything? like, what was the reason, jessie”

“it’s not like i thought about it!” jessie stresses “it never came up again so i forgot about it”

“until you saw her again, right?” you spit at her, folding your arms over your chest.

your girlfriend stays silent and rolls her head on her neck. she continues to not say anything as she scuffs her shoes against the floor.

you can’t help but laugh at yourself. you feel stupid, so, so stupid. “it took you less than twenty four hours to, what?, second guess your four year long relationship? are you—”

“i’m not second guessing shit” she says, now looking at you “don’t even start with that”

“start with what jessie?” you raise your voice and push off the wall “start with the fact that there’s every chance that i’m just a rebound you got in too deep with? that we were seeing eachother and you weren’t over her?”

jessie pinches her eyebrows together “you weren’t a rebound! i wasn’t even looking to date when janine introduced us—”

“because you were still in love with her”

“jesus christ, will you let me finish?” jessie grits out.

“when you start telling me something that’s gonna make me believe that our whole relationship isn’t just because i was the first person shoved under your nose when you got to london” you sneer at her.

jessie deflates, her hands going lax by her sides “is that seriously what you think?” she asks quietly “that i only started dating you because you were there?”

“what am i supposed to think, jess? that it was a coincidence that we started dating just after you get out of an almost three year long relationship?” tears fall down your face at the thought of janine introducing the two of you so jessie could get over her ex. you turn your face away from her and sniffle.

“it was a coincidence” jessie stresses “i didn’t want to date anybody, and janine thought i needed friends outside of the club so she introduced us. that’s seriously it” she says as she approaches you carefully.

you look at her through tears “did seeing her again bring up old feelings?”

jessie hesitates and bites the inside of her cheek before looking away. you don’t try to get her to look at you, don’t try to get her to answer you quicker, you simply just wait. it’s only now that you get to fully take in what she looks like. her unbrushed bed head, her oversized ‘i heart aus’ t-shirt she wears to sleep, the way one sock is kind of flopping off her foot whilst the other is still on. the version of jessie in front of you is your normal, your safe space.

this version of jessie likes her eggs made a particular way and buries herself under the covers to avoid the sun when she wants to sleep in; she wakes you up with kisses all over you face and tells you corny jokes, and she doesn’t have the weight of a nation’s expectations on her shoulders. she’s carefree and so full of love that sometimes she doesn’t know what to do with it.

this jessie is the love of your life, and right now you feel like you’re watching her slip through your fingers.

when you watch silent tears fall down her face you know you’ve got your answer. you shut your eyes “right” you say coldly before turning around and heading for your shared bedroom.

jessie’s head snaps towards your retreating form “wait, y/n!”

“jessie i can’t” you say as you grab a bag out of your closet. you begin pulling clothes you know you’ll need: training, home and away kits, socks, underwear, pyjamas, a few shirts and jeans. you count them in your head and then stuff them in your bag just as jessie comes into the room.

“what are you doing!?” she half shouts as she closes the wardrobe “can you please let me explain before you take off?”

you don’t stop walking around your shared bedroom “i just gave you a chance to and you couldn’t look me in the eye” you spit at her, not turning around to look at her.

a fresh wave of tears fall down jessie’s face “i was trying to figure out what to say, y/n, please!”

she walks around the bed to you, putting her hand over yours when you open your bedside drawer to grab your watch. her hand is warm and soft wrapped around yours and you are filled with the overwhelming urge to give into her. you turn your head to face her.

“p-please” she stutters “i swear, i have an explanation for all of it” she whispers to you, trying to hold eye contact through teary eyes “please don’t leave”

you own lip trembles “i need to, for a few days at least” you whisper back to her, pulling your hand out from under hers “it’ll give you time to think about whatever it is you want to say”

“but i don’t need time, i—”

“i do” you interrupt “you have no idea what finding this out has done to me, jess. i just need to step back”

the canadian looks defeated as you move to your bathroom to pack up your toiletries bag. she’s rooted to her spot and find herself wondering how she got here when it was only yesterday morning the two of you were rolling around in bed giggling.

she harshly wipes her tears as you slip your shoes on. the sight of her makes you want to drop everything and wrap your arms around her, make sure she knows that you still love her, but you can’t. you can’t stand here and deny yourself time apart, even if it is just a day or two.

“i’m gonna go stay with sam” you sigh “i just— i really think we both need a little bit of time”

jessie helplessly nods “okay” she whispers as you pick up your bag “i love you”

you bite your lip and turn to her, the weight of the duffel bag in your hands suddenly getting a lot heavier “i love you too” you whisper back to her, hopefully not for the last time.

[hisonlykiwi]

"With that kind of power at your disposal, the possibilities are endless." part two

synopsis: azriel, who's never bothered to acknowledge your existence seeks you out for help.

wc: 1.9k

warnings: none

a/n: hey guys, here's part two! let me know what you think, i would love your feedback

taglist <3: @blackgirlmagicforever, @tele86, @lilah-asteria, @kylaisra, @deeshag

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

part one

Previously: “I need your help.” I pause and look back at him, a pleading look on his face. “Why? You’ve never spoken to me, let alone acknowledged my existence. Then you barge in here, provoking me and suddenly you want my help? I have to laugh.” I pull my wrist away, but he grips tighter, “Please.” He says, and I tug my wrist away again, but he doesn’t budge.

 “Let. Me. Go.” I say, unable to withhold my anger. I blink and suddenly, I’m standing in the middle of the woods with Azriel still holding my wrist. He fucking winnowed us to the middle of nowhere. “Azriel, what the fuck are you doing?!” I give him a hard shove, but he doesn’t budge, of course, he doesn’t, he’s a 6’5 man made of pure muscle, ugh! He holds me close to his chest, “I have strong suspicions the inner circle is in grave danger and your abilities would be able to prove if I’m correct.” He quicky says, I stop moving, processing what he just said. He notices, slowly lets me go and moves away a bit but stays close. I peer up at him, confusion and concern laced in my features. “What do you mean, exactly?”

I furrow my eyebrows, still processing. Danger? How could they possibly be in danger? Is that why he brought us out to the middle of the woods, so no one would hear him. I hear Azriel take in a deep breath, “I think Elain is working with Hybern.”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

part two

Azriel's jaw clenched as he spoke the words, a mixture of anger and determination etched across his face. I raise my eyebrows at his words, “Does she now? And may I ask what brings you to that conclusion?” 

The air around him crackled with tension and his eyes hardened. “She's been acting strange, different. Dropping hints and whispering in the shadows. There have been strange occurrences in the city as well, odd movements, disappearances, things that only someone with inside knowledge would know....” 

I furrow my brows and cross my arms over my chest. “Which could mean nothing... Look, Azriel, she has been through a lot. Elain was kidnapped from her bed and thrown into the Cauldron where she was turned into something she feared, then the love of her life rejected her, and then she was captured by the Cauldron, by Hybern. And if my memory serves me correctly, you and Feyre were the ones who helped rescue her. Are you sure you’re not reading too much into this?” I finish, peering up to look at him, the weight of my words hanging heavy in the air. 

Azriel takes in another deep breath, his eyes ever leaving mine. “There are too many coincidences, and I can't ignore the signs anymore. I've been observing her behavior lately. She seems... different, distant, ever since I helped rescue her from Hybern’s war camp.” He pauses, his gaze darkening. “And, in my line of work... I trust my instincts. They're rarely wrong.” Azriel responds and I tear my gaze from him, this conversation becoming all too consuming.

 I run my hands over my face. None of this makes sense, Elain? Sweet ol’ Elain… She isn’t capable of doing something like this. In my short time of knowing her, she doesn’t seem to have the abilities nor experience to fight for herself, much less work with someone as wicked as Hybern. But I can’t ignore what Azriel is telling me. There’s a reason he has sought me out, what would be the point of making such a heavy accusation if there wasn’t some deeper truth behind it? I meet his eyes once again, “So why seek me out? And not Rhysand? I’m not sure what you want me to do.” 

Azriel lets out a frustrated breath, “We need someone who can enter minds, who can see if my suspicions are true. If Elain is indeed working with Hybern, we need to know the extent of her plans, and your power can give us that insight. I’m aware Rhysand has the ability to enter minds as well, but since he is mated with Feyre. I’m afraid she’ll be able to peer inside his thoughts, which could be catastrophic if she finds out what her sister is capable of.”  His voice is firm yet filled with a hint of fear. I hate to admit it, but he makes a great point and what if he’s right? If Elain is helping Hybern, this is not going to end well. She’s been inside Velaris and knows the secrets and plans of the inner circle. Azriel interrupts my thoughts "I've thought about this a thousand times, and the conclusion I keep coming back to is that you're the only one who can get to her, get her to reveal the truth." 

I could feel his eyes on me, waiting for an answer, this is Rhysand’s best friend, his brother, his family, I could trust him, I want to trust him. “If you’ve thought about this a thousand times, I’m going to go ahead and assume you have a plan?” I ask him. Azriel's gaze remains focused and determined. "Here's what we'll do," he says, his voice quiet.  “The Winter Court is hosting a ball and they’ve invited all of the courts to attend, which is in 3 weeks’ time.  The plan is simple. I’ll need to get close to Elain, to earn her trust. While I distract her, this will allow you to enter her mind without suspicion." He explains. “You'll remain hidden and silent, gathering any information you can find. The goal is not to alert her of your presence or intentions, otherwise she might catch on. We don't want her knowing we're onto her just yet." He finishes. Well, he wasn’t kidding when he said he’s thought this over a thousand times, the plan seems solid and doable. “Okay, I’ll help you... under one condition.” I give him a small smile.

Azriel's eyes flicker with curiosity at my proposition and he nods. "Alright, what's your condition?" I pause, “You can, under no circumstance, let anyone know about my powers. You said it yourself; I could change the course of history itself if anyone were to find out of what I’m capable of. Promise me you won’t tell anyone.” Azriel’s looks at me, his golden eyes glinting with intensity. “I promise,” he said, his voice firm and resolute. “Your secret is safe with me.” He held out his pinky, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

I look at his pinky being held out in front me, amusement being shown in my features., I let out a small chuckle and hooked my pinky with his, “Looks like you have yourself a partner. But really? A pinky promise?” I laugh softly. Azriel's lips curved into a small smile, "Hey, a pinky promise is sacred," he replies, his tone teasingly defensive. "Besides, it's a time-honored tradition among the fae and... let's be honest, it's more fun than a regular promise." I burst out into a fit of giggles and nod along. “A pinky promise it is.” Which causes his small smile to turn into a full blown out grin.

I felt a pang in my chest, similar to one I felt earlier as I looked at his, oh so beautiful smile. “Since we're going to be partners and all, I have a proposition you cannot refuse” I say letting go of his pinky so I can dig in my bag and fetch the report I was working on earlier. “You have to help me with this, Rhysand has me working on it. Which I was doing before I was rudely interrupted.” I jokingly say, handing him the report.

Azriel takes the report and quirks an eyebrow. He glances down at the report, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. "You were rudely interrupted, were you?" He teases, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I suppose, as your partner, it's only right that I help with your little report." He says. I give him a big grin, “Why thank you partner, you’re too kind.” I take the report from his hands and put it back in my bag, “Now will you please winnow us back home, the woods creep me out.”

Azriel gives a dramatic sigh and rolls his eyes in playful annoyance. "I guess I can do that," he says with a wry smile, holding out a hand. "But only because you asked so kindly." He stepped forward and I put my hand in his outstretched palm. And just like last time, in the blink of an eye, we’re standing in front of the town house. “Thank you, partner.” I say, peering up at him. I felt Azriel give my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go, a small hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Anytime, partner.” He responded. 

Where are you? Rhysand’s voice rang in my head. I’m out front of the town house, am I needed? I mentally replied back to him. Yes. There’s been another attack, come to my office as soon as you can. Rhysand said. On my way. 

 “Everything okay?” Azriel asks and I let out a frustrated sigh, “No. Rhysand, just notified me there’s been another attack. I have to go meet with him. I’ll catch you later, yeah?” I watched as Azriel's expression fell, "Another attack?" He repeats, a mix of anger and frustration seeping into his tone. "Damn it." He grits his teeth. "Where was the attack this time?" He demands, his eyes flickering. “He didn’t give me any specifics. I’ll let you know what he tells me.” Azriel gives me an understanding small nod, "I'll keep an ear out for any more news. If you need anything, just let it know." He says, pointing to my shoulder. A moment later, he is wrapped in shadows and vanishes. I looked over at my shoulder that he pointed at, and to my surprise, there was a small shadow. Just like the one that was around my ankle earlier. “Oh, hi there.” I whisper to the black smoke hovering on my shoulder. It slowly comes near my cheek, a cool, airy feeling against it. It almost felt like it was caressing my cheek.  I smile at the sensation, “Well, aren’t you cute?” I try to touch it and the small shadow wraps around my hand. I giggle softly, the feeling a little ticklish. 

I admire the small, playful shadow before my mind slips back to the short conversation I had with Rhysand moments ago. I let out a sigh and made my way towards Rhysand’s office, the shadow following close behind me.

 It hasn’t been a full week since the last attack and now there’s been another. The attacks are happening more consistently then how they were a couple weeks ago. How am I supposed to figure out the culprit’s motive? Their attacks are always unpredictable, there’s no pattern, no repeated habits or behavior. It’s so strange. 

I bring my hand up to knock on the door of Rhysand’s office, but it opens before I even have a chance to actually knock. Hpmh, of course it would, it’s a magic house, I always forget. I make my way inside, “Alright, I’m here, what happe-” I freeze at the sight in front of me. “Elain?”

[foreveralbon]

i love you, ain’t that crazy? - op81

in which evening kisses and ted lasso are the only things that can beat aussie mornings and cinnamon scrolls wc: 831

The evening is the best time of day, you think.

When the world is cast in the sun’s tired glow, everything within it turned to priceless gold.

Skin rivals that of those touched by Midas, glass bottles emanating their own rainbows at its luminescence, while paints reveal their true colours—brighter, bolder and more beautiful than any other time of day could ever show.

But it’s Oscar’s eyes that take the prize for the prettiest thing when by met the sun’s glint. What’s normally a dim chocolate brown turns to whiskey in the evening light.

Perched atop the island counter of your kitchen, Oscar stood in the gap between your legs, you’re sure he’s never looked prettier. With loose curls brushing along his forehead, lips downturned in a suppressed smile, the dusk sky falls in through the gaps of the curtains to paint his face with light, showcasing every freckle and mole that dusts his skin.

The corner of his eyes crinkle fondly at the sight of you, teeth sinking into the soft Cadbury bar he’d bought for you earlier that day.

“Hungry girl,” he remarks, rolling his eyes playfully as he turns away to busy himself with putting dirty plates into the dishwasher.

His hand never leaves your thigh though, bare below the hem of his shirt that’s just a few sizes too big on you. But when the weight of his hand does leave, you pout teasingly. “Wanted to leave me that bad, did you, Oscar?”

Your boyfriend whirls around instantly. His fingers come to rest on your knees, creeping up your thigh and past your hip to hover above your abdomen. It sends a tingling sensation throughout your body briefly. “Sweetheart, leaving you is the last thing I want to do.”

“What a romantic,” you reply sarcastically, slapping a hand to his shoulder.

He lets you wrap your legs around his waist, supporting your back with his palms. Furrowing your head into his neck, you inhale his cologne, fresh and musky, tinged with the sweet bitterness of the chocolate you’d just eaten.

Oscar carries you from the kitchen to the living room, a short trek but one he’s willing to make a thousand and one times if it means you’re as close as can be when he does.

He sets you down on the couch before sitting cross-legged on the cushion himself.

“You look so pretty like this,” you admire. You tuck a loose strand of hair away from his face. In the evening light, with nothing but a lazy smile gracing his lips and a glint in his eye that screams your name.

“But you’re always more beautiful, love.”

Oscar gently pushes you down against the couch, large hands circling the width of your wrists to hold them together as he slants his mouth above yours in a slow kiss. Like a boy kissing his first girlfriend, he’s unsure but so gentle, as though he’s afraid that one wrong move—one wrong slip of his tongue against yours, one harsh press of his lips—will scare you off.

But your hands slide free of his grip, running up his chest to press your palm against his cheeks, bringing his face down closer to yours. He takes the hint almost immediately and kisses you more fervently. Languidly, sweetly. As though he knows there’s everyday to kiss you beyond this day, but it’s this moment he wants to savour. Forever, if he could.

“God, I love you,” he whispers against your lips, tearing away from you reluctantly but he knows he needs air—as much as he wishes that just being around you could be a sufficient life source.

“I’m glad, otherwise this would have been really awkward,” you joke.

You push his chest lightly to relieve his weight off you and he shuffles back onto his knees. He waits for you to sit up against the arm of the couch, stretched along the length of the couch before crawling between your legs to rest against your stomach.

Oscar lies in silence as you turn on the TV, waiting patiently for you to pull up the next episode of Ted Lasso. As the opening scene begins to roll, you can’t help but whisper, “I’m happy that it’s you.”

“Hm?” He never takes his gaze off the screen but you know he’s listening to you.

“That you’re the one here with me now.”

Oscar doesn’t respond. He just takes your hand in his, squeezing it once, twice. I love you more.

He tilts his chin up to kiss you once more before dropping his head back onto the swell of your chest. Your other hand finds its way into his hair, fingers entangling in the soft curls as you scratch at his scalp.

It’s as the sun sets til it rises that you have all the time in the world with Oscar. And that’s the best part about it—the sun’s indefinite return and departure promises eternity with your boy.

“You okay up there, sweetheart?”

“Wonderful.”

—

@namgification @hiireadstuff @disneyprincemuke @vroomvroomcircuit (just bc) @demvnsriot @33-81 @lipringlrh @queen-aria-things

in my head this was cinnamon scroll fic oscar and i thought this was cute idk. layout was a bit lazy i’m sorry ☹︎

[sagebrush-and-sadness]

BOOTHILL HEADCANONS

author's notes just some silly goofy headcanons for Boothill because he's a cutie patootie and I love him fem!reader, completely SFW ♡ and ⥩ are appreciated!

※ He always patiently waits for you to finish applying sunscreen or moisturizer to his face before he can finally go shooting bad guys to his heart's content. Most of the time he jokes around or teasingly dodges your hands; sometimes he mumbles that this is embarassing and he really doesn't care, sweetie, come on, but he will always give you a kiss as a token of gratitude. Because, trust me, he does care.

※ Loves snapping his teeth at you. It's a (weirdly charming) sign of affection, a habit Boothill took up pretty early in your relationship. You teasingly call it a cute aggression and he doesn't deny it. However, if he does that in public at someone else, you better get a hold of him and scatter away because the man is getting pissed.

※ Oh, he absolutely will blow raspberries on your neck whenever he has a chance to hug you from behind. And he's as sly as an old fox, lulling you into a false sense of security with gentle kisses and nuzzles — just to violently strike a poor, helpless you and dance away laughing joyfully.

※ Your first kiss with Boothill was that of desperation — he just barely made it out alive from one of the IPC warehouses, his left leg limp and dragging lifelessly across the floor, a few bullet holes adorning his signature hat, thankfully not lost in the heat of a battle. He looked no better than a wild ragged coyotte, a pitiful thing, an unsightly creature smelling of rot and blood, but upon seeing him, safe and relatively sound, your heart swelled with tenderness and your eyes — with hot tears. You wanted to kiss him then and there, and he anticipated as much, grabbing your face in his hands, firm yet gentle, and all but smashing your lips together. Perhaps, it was a shatter of all your dreams about a romantic first kiss, but at that moment it was the most perfect one...

...Or was it? As tender and loving as Boothill was with you, his tongue still tasted like oil and gunpowder. He laughed it off the first time you made a face, but since then he's made a mental note to always carry a bag of candies and lollipops with him.

※ He's the type of guy to randomly get you fresh field flowers.

Also the type to dance with you while holding one in his teeth. There is a whole anecdote about him picking an unknown flower that turned out to be quite poisonous and suffering from tongue swelling half a day after that. Don't bring this story up, though, his male ego is still recovering.

※ Boothill's upbringing obliges him to treat women with courtesy and respect. He may look like a heartbreaker to some, but in truth, his mindset is that of a traditional man. This said, he loves referring to you as a 'woman'. His woman. He relishes the fact and there is so much pride, so much infatuation and genuine awe behind this word every time he all but purrs it out. It's a strangely specific nickname of his, and no matter how unusual it might have sounded to you at first, now your heart flatters every time you hear it drip from his lips. After all, you are his woman and he is your handsome cowboy.

He might however bark at you when you're pestering him. Something in the lines of 'I'm busy, woman, what are ya yapping 'bout?'. Naturally, he never uses it as a means to offend and will put a bullet through the head of anyone who dares belittle you like that. The unspoken rule of a cowboy says: never criticize another gentleman's hat, horse and wife. And Boothill is very serious about his rules, even if technically you are not his wife (yet).

※ He adores it when you dress up for him. No matter how often or seldom you do that, no matter what exactly you're wearing — a cute cocktail dress or a strict suit — he would whistle low and stride right to you with the air of a beau who just saw the girl he'd buy a drink for. His sultry pretentious flirting never fails to make you giggle.

※ Boothill will always find time for you. No matter how many light days separate you from each other, no matter how busy the schedule or how dangerous the enemies, he can never really get you out of his head. You are always there, his little beacon of light, and he knows that you're waiting for him with worry and hope. He hates telling you that you can't come with him this time; hates seeing your smile drop and your fingers fidget anxiously as you watch him step on an unknown land. He misses you dearly five minutes into the mission, so he calls you as often as he can, showing you all the pictures he took or all the things he got for you as souvenirs. When it comes to your messages or calls there is never really bad timing for Boothill — an inconvenient one, perhaps, but even the heat of the battle will not stop him from picking up. He might even consider against shooting the poor son of a bitch that let him talk to you peacefully out of courtesy, but we will see about that.

※ Ever since you came into his life, Boothill's spending habits have gotten somewhat healthier. The thing is — the guy is loaded, yet money never held any real interest for him. After all, he became a hunting dog not for the promise of fresh bones, it was more of a pleasant bonus rather than a necessity. Most of his credits were spent on oil for his spaceship and himself, some repairs here and there, bullets and, surprisingly, booze — now unable to fully experience the harmful effects of a few bottles of whiskey a day, Boothill drinks it in the same manner some people chew on their gum. However you and your loyal companionship awoke something within him, something he thought died many miserable years ago. An urge to care. And it came so naturally to him, too. It was very easy, on a level of subconscious, for him to pick up the habit of buying you food — the one he knows you like, of the highest quality. Or making sure you have an outfit for any occasion in your life and enough space to store them all. Or that all your beauty and health treatments are paid for. Or... and the list goes on and on. Boothill is a man who will respect you for wanting to be independent, sure, but will not shame you for wanting to be provided for.

English is not my native language. So please, if you see any mistakes in grammar, punctuation or spelling, or simply think that something sounds weird, let me know! Ty!

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 12: Aphrodite, Goddess Of Love] [Series Finale]

A/N: Surprise!!! A new chapter from Maggie?? On a Thursday?? I was just too excited to wait! Please enjoy the final installment of 1968 🥰💜

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 6k

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

The sun is rising, and all the guests have dissipated like morning stars. You and Aegon are sitting across from each other at the table in the kitchenette of your suite, cool grey morning light slanting into the silence, confetti on the floor, broken glass, crumbs from the catered appetizers—gyros, hummus, pita, mini spanakopitas, baklava—stomped into the carpet, spots that are soggy with spilled champagne. The Plaza might have to replace it. Outside, rain falls in a mist. Your makeup is smudged; your hair is falling out of its clips and pins. Aemond is waiting, standing with his back to the wall and his arms crossed over his chest, blonde hair slicked back, blue suit, prosthetic eye filling the void in his skull. You know what happens next, but you can’t bring yourself to rise, to speak, to set it into motion. You stare down at the lines in the palm of your uninjured hand and think of the ropes of a sailboat, the invisible strings of gravity that enchain the universe.

Aegon swipes at his eyes: bloodshot, vacant, continuously streaming tears. “I’m gonna go back to Yuma.” 

You look up at him, startled. “Right now?”

“Right now,” Aemond agrees from the wall.

Aegon begs you in a hoarse whisper, eyes dark and glistening like the Atlantic at night: “Come with me.”

Your hands shaking, your voice splintering. “I can’t, Aegon. I can’t.”

He drums his knuckles on the table, gets up from his chair, rushes to you before Aemond can stop him. He’s holding you, his lips to your forehead, the salt of his tears on your cheeks and your lips, like the ocean is bleeding out of him, like he’ll drown you. “I’m sorry,” he says, breath catching in his throat, his pores hemorrhaging smoke, horror, rum, ruin. 

Once you pushed Aegon away, hated him, stained him with your husband’s blood. Now your fingernails hook like claws into his army jacket and cling there, frantic and childlike. “Not yet, please, Aegon, don’t go, please don’t go.”

“I have to, I’m sorry.”

“Aegon, no–”

“I’m so fucking sorry.” He’s sobbing, he’s trembling, he’s gone. The doorway is empty like an unfinished sentence, like a myth no one remembers. The silence floods back into the rain-grey November air. The room is cold like a mausoleum. You touch your own face: tears Aegon left there, muscles and nerves dead beneath your skin, disbelief you sink through like the sea, waiting to hit the floor deep with the silt of rocks and wreckage and bones.

He’s gone? He’s really gone?

Aemond stalks over to the table, smirking, radiant, his hands in the pockets of his suit; he takes his time, he savors it. He’s never been higher. He was right all along. He can’t be killed, he is destined to be the president. It is God’s will. “Get ready,” Aemond says. “I have a victory speech to make.”

~~~~~~~~~~

He heads west on Route 70, billboards and drive-thrus, toll booths and reflective green mile markers, the kids fighting over who gets to pick the radio station from the back of the Dodge A-100 that Otto had hastily procured, handing over the keys as Aegon rolled his suitcase out of the Plaza Hotel. That first night they stop in Wheeling, Ohio, and the kids have startlingly little resistance to this upheaval. They can’t find much to complain about. A road trip with Dad and only Dad, no journalists badgering them for photos or quotes, no orders barked from Otto or Aemond, no exacting campaign itinerary, no scripted propriety, Mountain Dew spills on the carpet, Pizza Hut boxes on cheap springy motel mattresses.

“What do you think about all this?” Aegon asks Orion when the younger ones have dozed off: Cosmo and Thaddeus on one bed, Violeta in another, Spiro lounging across the threadbare sofa with a copy of The Fellowship of the Ring resting open on his chest.

Orion shrugs, that adolescent aversion to vulnerability, like the whole world is out to shake you down for evidence of the defections you’re so convinced define you. “It’s cool, I guess. It’s like an adventure. And we’ll get to see you a lot more.”

“Yeah you will,” Aegon promises. He feels sick: no booze, no pills, the grease of pepperoni churning in his belly. “And I’m never gonna be the way I was before.”

The bathroom is tiny and spartan, white porcelain, black specks of mildew. When he’s done showering, Aegon wipes the fog off the mirror with his fist. In Ancient Greece, a shaved head was the mark of a slave; it was meant to strip the man of his past, to make him brand new. He remembers Aemond saying this one afternoon as they were all out sailing at Asteria, Aegon sprawled on his back and drinking rum from the bottle as beams of sunlight refracted through the glass, Aemond leafing through one of his history books, Helaena throwing bits of pita to the seagulls, Daeron peering through his telescope for glimpses of dolphins, sharks, bobbing treasure from shipwrecks, imagined enemy vessels. Aegon thinks as he studies his reflection under the harsh fluorescent lights—crinkles by his eyes, skin ravaged by years of careless sunburn—that he wouldn’t mind not having a past. He opens his shaving kit and takes out the straight razor he never uses, shears off his tangled, windswept locks of blonde hair, smiles when the kids laugh and call him Yul Brynner the next morning over breakfast at the diner beside the motel, blueberry pancakes and toast wet with egg yolks. He’s not brand new; it’s impossible to be. But he’s getting closer.

The Fort Yuma Indian Reservation has grown during the Kennedy and Johnson years. The tribe now enjoys a steady income from numerous projects, including the leasing of farmland, a convenience store, a casino and resort, and an RV park. The school has been rebuilt—bigger, more modern, air conditioning, hallelujah—since Aegon was first exiled here twenty years ago, but several of the employees have familiar faces, and the current principal was once an English teacher assigned to be his mentor, a different lifetime, an ancient myth.

“You look good,” Artie says as he descends the concrete front steps on an afternoon in mid-November, 75 degrees, bright cerulean sky, no clouds. He takes Aegon’s outstretched hand and shakes it. “Kind of fat, but good. You still play guitar?”

“I do, yeah. I have one in the back of my van right now.”

Artie glances at the giggling, waving children behind the glass windows. “Jesus Pleasus, how many kids you got?”

Aegon chuckles. “Five, I think.”

“Five! Well, they’re welcome to attend here, if you want them to be where you are.”

“That’s a very generous offer. They’ve never gone to a real school before. They had private tutors in New Jersey.”

“What a great way to raise jackasses, if you ask me.” Artie gives him a stern look over, wrinkled brow, narrowed brown eyes. “You sober?”

“No pills, no drinking, occasional weed.”

“Goddamn, that’s a lot better than I expected.”

“Hey Artie?”

“Uh huh.”

“Would you happen to need a math teacher?”

Artie studies him thoughtfully. “I mean, we’re always looking for qualified math and science people. They leave the quickest, those aerospace and electronics companies over in California pay too much. Why? You know someone?”

“I used to,” Aegon says, then motions for his kids to get out of the van. Artie lets them eat ice cream in the cafeteria while Aegon signs his contract.

He’s in Yuma for three weeks before he meets a girl. Her name is Rachel, and she’s a dream that walked out of the Summer Of Love: hair down to her waist, boots to her knees, handknit vests, chipped nail polish and teasing smiles, a taste for sun and smoking. At night they sit under the stars behind Aegon’s bungalow out in the desert, roasting marshmallows and hotdogs with the kids, Aegon strumming his guitar, Rachel playing her harmonica, a few homely adopted mutts loping around instead of purebred Alopekis. She likes him, this boyish sunbeam of a man who always seems just a little lost, a little sad. She might even love him.

And yet there are ghosts, beasts, threads the fates have not yet severed. One night in January after the kids have gone to sleep, Aegon is flipping through television channels as Rachel returns to the couch with a bowl full of Jiffy Pop, plops down onto the cushions, curls up against him. Aegon stumbles upon CBS Evening News, a clip from the inauguration, and his words vanish mid-sentence, his eyes—an opaque, stormy, melancholic sort of blue—growing wide. He doesn’t change the channel. He doesn’t move at all.

“What?” Rachel asks. On the screen is a clip of President Targaryen being sworn in, his wife at his side and cradling the Bible in her hands. She’s wearing Oscar de la Renta—a powder blue wool coat that matches her husband’s tie—and a stately new hairstyle that is very distinctly inspired by Jackie Kennedy. Her smile is serene and dignified, if perhaps a bit remote. She could be a marble statue in a garden or a museum. It must be a lot of pressure for her, Rachel thinks. To live up to being the partner of a man that remarkable. “Aegon? Baby, are you okay?”

After a long time Aegon says, very softly, like it’s only to himself: “He made her cut her hair.”

Rachel stares mystified at the television and then turns back to Aegon. “What happened with her?” Something must have. He looks staggered, he looks haunted, he looks like someone Medusa turned to stone. Rachel knows about who Aegon is, of course, everyone does; but he never wants to talk about it. When people mention his family, Aegon smiles politely and then changes the subject. When they ask about his sister-in-law, he says he needs a cigarette and walks out of the room. She sent him a beautiful, shimmering gold acoustic Gibson guitar for Christmas; the first lady’s name was on the return address. To Rachel’s knowledge, Aegon never thanked her.

Aegon shakes his head, and Rachel can’t tell if that means the story is too long or too short, unrealized potential, loose kaleidoscopic strands of stardust, infinitesimal moments that wouldn’t have meaning to anyone else. “Nothing.” Then he resumes switching channels: I Dream of Jeannie, Bewitched, the Newlywed Game.

~~~~~~~~~~

Your parents fly north for the inauguration, so proud, so effusive, interviewed by every major news network. Business is booming at the Spongeorama Sponge Factory back in Tarpon Springs. They are seated between Alicent and Ludwika’s mother Elzbieta, newly arrived from Poland. LBJ and Lady Bird are cordial but uncharacteristically understated, retreating back to their home state of Texas like kicked dogs. All the defeated adversaries of the campaign trail attend to show their support, to wordlessly plead for a long-awaited national reconciliation. George Wallace won’t meet your eyes. Richard Nixon whispers through your hair as he clasps your scarred hand: “Aemond could never have done this without you.”

Jackie Kennedy’s chosen cause as first lady was the restoration of the White House, Lady Bird’s was environmental protection. You want to visit schools and help teach math to little kids, but Aemond decides it would be more politically expedient for you to be seen tending to wounded veterans of Vietnam; so you spend many of your days in hospitals, inhaling charred flesh and Lysol and dying flowers and blood. The Japanese ambassador bows lower to you than he does to Aemond. The prime minister of France tries (unsuccessfully) to flirt with you. Athenagoras I of Constantinople, the Archbishop of the Greek Orthodox Church, brings you a komboskini he has blessed. Reprieves come in slivers like a disappearing moon: lunches with Fosco–carpaccio, caprese, bolognese, polenta–and drinks with Ludwika, always something with rum, something that tastes like Aegon. You dream of incubators and arterial spray, stitches and scars and crimson bandages, the flash of blades, the thunder of bullets; but the would-be assassins go to prison and no one else ever tries. You are Persephone in the Underworld. You are Io in the wilderness.

You are just beginning to panic about what you’ll do when your tiny pink birth control pills run out when Fosco shows up to one of your lunches with a paper bag full of familiar circular packets. “I have been informed that I am to be your dealer,” he says, grinning. “I will be back with more in six months. I told the doctor they were for my mistress. I don’t even have a mistress! Isn’t this exciting? I am like a secret agent. I am the Italian James Bond. The name’s Viviani, Fosco Viviani.”

“Aegon asked you to do this?”

“Well, he did not ask, exactly. I do not think I was allowed to say no.”

You hide the paper bag in the Louis Vuitton purse Ludwika bought you, so thankful you don’t have words for it, missing Aegon like Orpheus missed Eurydice, searching through the shade-haunted grey haze of the Underworld for her.

“It was odd,” Fosco says quietly, delicately. “He did not want to know anything about you. He asked if you needed anything else that I was aware of, I said no, and then he hung up when I started to tell him about Christmas dinner.”

You remember Aegon’s words, ghosts from where Long Beach Island meets the Atlantic Ocean: Mimi wasn’t as strong as you. Maybe what Aegon didn’t say is that he isn’t either. You imagine the fates snipping threads, the memoryless oblivion offered by the River Lethe, moons becoming greater and lesser. He has to try to forget you. You have to let him.

On Valentine’s Day weekend, Daeron comes home. He and John McCain are the last two men freed from the prisoner of war camp known as the Hanoi Hilton. When he steps off the plane, Daeron is carrying with him, of all things, a single white rat in a wire cage. The first question he asks, after being engulfed in embraces from Alicent, Criston, and Fosco, is: “Where’s Aegon?” And he knows from the stilted, piecemeal explanations he receives that something has happened. You take Daeron to breakfast the next morning, and you don’t tell him everything, but you tell him enough. He spends a month recuperating at Asteria, then follows Zephyr, the god of the west wind, across the country to Arizona.

Aegon didn’t send you anything for Christmas, and he didn’t respond to the guitar you gifted him with Ludwika’s assistance. But on July 13th, a green envelope arrives in your mail basket with no return address. You open it to find a greeting card with an exuberant cow on the front. Inside, the original message—You’re mooooooving on up in the world! Happy retirement!—has been crossed out with black ink. You laugh, your first real laugh in weeks, and then read what Aegon has written in his chaotic, scribbling penmanship:

I thought this was blank :)

Hope you’re doing okay. You look great on tv.

Then there is an expanse of open white space, like a weighty hesitation. There’s no signature, but there is one final note like a postscript.

Thank you for the guitar, but please don’t send anything else. It fucks me up, you know?

Yes, you do know. Aegon never calls you, but Cosmo does. Once or twice a week he dials your private line at the White House–Aegon must have asked Fosco for it–and tells you all about his new life in Yuma, his school, his friends, the dogs, the desert. Aegon’s met someone named Rachel; Cosmo mentions her intermittently yet with unmistakable fondness: “Rachel makes the best s’mores,” “Rachel told me about seeing Jimi Hendrix at Woodstock,” “Rachel took us to pick pumpkins for Halloween.” You’re glad Cosmo calls, and you’re glad he’s happy; but afterwards you always feel so indescribably, irredeemably sad.

You sneak your pills and avoid Aemond as much as you can, something that becomes easier as he spends long hours reviewing briefs in the Oval Office, preparing speeches, meeting foreign dignitaries, strategizing with his cabinet, and scheming against his conservative foes across the nation, a faction soon led by California governor Ronald Reagan. You stand perfectly still as designers alter Chanel and Yves Saint Laurent and Givenchy to fit you like woolen armor. You strike up a chaste, harmless flirtation with a Secret Service agent from Atlanta named Nathaniel, not because he reminds you of Aegon—Nate is 6’4, 250 pounds, and a former Navy SEAL—but because he listens, because he is kind. He gives you riveting summaries of films and books that are considered too scandalous for you to be seen enjoying. He makes fun of your matronly skirt suits. He takes you to get lemon-lime Mr. Mistys at Dairy Queen. He massages your scarred hand with rose oil.

In May of 1969, Aemond voices support for university students across the nation protesting in favor of increased Black faculty and Africana Studies courses. In July, the Apollo 11 mission lands the first men on the moon, effectively ending the Space Race with an American victory. In September, Lieutenant William Calley receives a sentence of life in prison for his role in the My Lai Massacre the previous year. In November, the Rolling Stones release a new album entitled Let It Bleed. Ludwika gives you the record for Christmas along with an array of perfumes and lipsticks, all extravagantly packaged in a pink Gucci gift box. Your favorite song is Gimme Shelter. You listen to it at dusk in the Jacqueline Kennedy Garden, your chair facing west, taking slow drags off Lucky Strike cigarettes that Nate buys for you, embers glowing as the sun disappears.

“What’s out there?” Nate asks you one night with a slinky half-grin, and then when you don’t immediately answer: “You’re always looking that way. What are you looking for?”

You don’t know what to tell him. Nothing. Everything. Something that almost happened. And slowly, under a lavender twilight peppered with the remote glimmers of constellations—stars that cannot be changed, disasters predestined since before you were born—Nate’s smile dies, and he never asks again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three time zones away, Aegon’s hair grows out and he gets his ears re-pierced, tiny gold hoops that make him think of wedding rings. Rachel pretends she doesn’t want to get married. Aegon doesn’t offer. Once in a while after the kids have gone to bed, he climbs into the hammock in the backyard and smokes a joint, staring absently into the east as the new Rolling Stones album spins on the record player. Aegon’s favorite song is You Can’t Always Get What You Want. Rachel stands at the telescope they set up for the kids—Cosmo’s idea—and stargazes, making her way down a checklist of visible celestial objects.

One night Aegon asks as she’s squinting through the eyepiece: “Where’s Jupiter?”

Rachel glances over at him, then points up at the indigo sky. “It’s that one, the really bright spot near Perseus. Why?”

Aegon shrugs, exhaling smoke. “No reason,” he says; but he’s still looking at Jupiter, wounded, stoned wonder floating on the surface of his watery eyes.

Daeron settles down in Yuma and buys a ranch. He does some work at the VA Hospital a few hours away in Tucson, some white water rafting on the Colorado River, some hiking in the Kofa National Wildlife Refuge, a whole lot of roughhousing with his niece and nephews. John McCain, now a war hero and national celebrity, is always calling to see if Daeron has decided to run for office yet. A few times a year, they receive visitors from the East Coast: Alicent, Criston, Ludwika, Helaena, Fosco, and their three children. The president and first lady are not mentioned unless by accident. The kids adore their grandmother, and she loves them back, although Alicent never learns to appreciate Tessarion the rat and refuses to hold her. In 1970, Helaena and Fosco have one last baby, a daughter they name Marina after Mimi. Life goes on, but the ghosts remain.

On a chilly evening in January of 1972, Aegon is flipping through television channels when he lands on an NBC segment about First Lady Targaryen touring the Walter Reed National Military Medical Center in Bethesda, Maryland. “That’s so fucked up,” Aegon murmurs as she calmly soothes the suffering of mutilated men, and his voice is dark with scorching, clandestine fury. He gestures to the screen with the remote control. “She hates hospitals. He makes her do things that hurt her. He does it just to prove he can.”

Rachel says as she stands in the threshold between the living room and the kitchen, a question she has finally worked up the courage to ask: “No one is ever going to be able to compare to her, right?”

Aegon opens his mouth to protest, and then closes it again. And something washes over him like waves of the ocean, sun on sand, poison in the blood and the lungs, myths that carve themselves into your bones so deep you can see the red of the marrow underneath. He replies truthfully, his eyes still on the screen: “Right.”

Rachel packs her bags. Aegon gets up to help her. He feels it’s the least he can do.

~~~~~~~~~~

When you and Aemond return to Asteria for summer vacations, the seaside Targaryen compound is full of ghosts. You catch glimpses of Mimi stumbling up staircases, Cosmo trotting after you as you turn corners, Aegon smoking a joint under the statue of Zeus in Helaena’s garden. You open cabinets and bottles of his pills fall out. You see Sunfyre bobbing abandoned in the boathouse. The basement is just as Aegon left it. Sometimes you go down there and stand on the green shag carpet in the hushed, cool, damp emptiness, not knowing what you’re waiting for, staring at the wall until someone comes to look for you.

“What’s in these?” Nate asks one afternoon, snatching a notebook off the shelf. “Oh wow, look!” He shows you messy sketches in black ink, cartoon versions of the stories of Greek gods and goddesses, myths reimagined. “Who do you think drew them?”

“Maybe Daeron,” you reply, but it wasn’t him. You’d know Aegon’s handwriting anywhere. Nate leafs through a bunch of the notebooks, booming laughter—he especially enjoys that Poseidon has been characterized as a sexually insatiable dolphin—and reading his favorite parts out loud to you. One notebook is only half-full; the last few pages are covered with drawings of tiny cows, telephones with long spiral cords, the moon in all its phases. You tear these out to keep.

On each July 13th, there is a card with no return address waiting in your mail basket at the White House, always featuring a jovial cow, always making you smile. You entrust Nate with the task of hiding the notebook pages and greeting cards away somewhere safe, an arrangement he honors like an oath.

Every so often, when you feel lethal bitterness kindling, you are struck by the inspiration to find Aemond’s Ouija board. It must be here in the White House someplace, but you can’t figure out where. You search the bedrooms, rummage through closets, climb into the oak cabinets beneath bathroom sinks; you scrabble around like a rodent under the cover of darkness while Aemond is away on state visits and campaign rallies for fellow Democrats. Maybe he makes secret stops in Tacoma or Seattle. If he does, you don’t care. You’d rather Aemond be there than here.

In the spring of 1972, you find the Ouija board in a drawer of the Resolute desk, where Aemond conducts official business in the Oval Office. “Oh, that is insane,” you say to yourself as you slide it out. You mean to burn it in your bedroom fireplace, then think again. On the back of the board, the inscription has faded, as if traced by Aemond’s fingertips again and again.

If I destroy this, what will he do to Aegon and his children? What will he do to me?

You place the Ouija board back where you found it, slide the drawer shut, and crawl into bed, besieged by dreams of smoke and rum and the rumbling bass of Season Of The Witch.

Aemond’s national approval rating hovers between 55-70%—far about the historical average, although he never stops pining for an heir and proper first family to maximize his allure—until May of 1972, when the tide begins to turn. The treaty formally ending U.S. involvement in the war was signed back in early 1969, but the hasty troop withdrawal left capitalist South Vietnam vulnerable, and now it is being invaded by the communists backed by China and Russia. The Fall of Saigon is immortalized in the evening news, printed on the covers of newspapers; people who once collaborated with the Americans are shot dead in the streets. Refugees flee west to Laos and Cambodia and Thailand, east on makeshift rafts into the ocean. The few that Aemond manages to hurriedly admit into the U.S. inspire racism and xenophobia from suburbanites. Many of the hippies have grown up, had children, gotten jobs, settled down with credit cards and mortgages. Protestors march with signs out on Pennsylvania Avenue: America abandons her allies! Our global reputation is in peril! Will the communists invade here next? What did my son die for?

“They wanted me to end it,” Aemond marvels as he gazes out the White House windows. “They begged for me to end it, and now look at them. Ungrateful imbecile bastards.”

And you give him a rare piece of advice that he listens to: “You should call LBJ.”

On his ranch fifty miles outside of Austin, Texas, Lyndon Baines Johnson is dying of heart failure. Still, he smokes more or less constantly, and refuses to adhere to the diet Lady Bird fretfully lectures their chefs about. He has grown his grey hair long and sits for as many interviews as he can, desperate to salvage his legacy and remind people of the things he did right: civil rights legislation, the War On Poverty, rising from a poor farming family to the Oval Office. He knows exactly what it feels like to be hated for having no good options. He says gruffly through the phone: “The Vietnam War needed to end, Aemond. It had to happen. But someone has to pay for it, too. That’s your job now. Take the fall, and the country survives. Plenty of people still love you. And I’m proud of you, son. I know it ain’t easy, believe me. But I’m real proud.”

Still, Aemond fights. He can’t help it. It’s all he’s ever known.

He campaigns at a murderous pace, and you have to follow him across the nation. Perhaps intentionally, there are no campaign stops in Arizona. Aemond does very well, but Ronald Reagan does better; he’s quick and he’s cutting, but he’s also funny, and grandfatherly, and warm, and God knows the American people could use some of that after the past decade. He characterizes Aemond’s policy regarding Vietnam as “peace without honor.” He calls Aemond short-sighted about a dozen times, a jab his supporters guffaw at. He says the United States has surrendered its rightful place as the leader of the free world. His wife Nancy—his second wife—is vehemently opposed to recreational drugs and other supposed moral crimes including abortion and premarital sex. You hate her, and she hates you right back, though in a perfectly pleasant, ever-smiling, mid-century housewife sort of way. Reagan’s disciples call you a whore. Aemond gets the newspapers still loyal to him to publish scathing denials. You aren’t exactly sure why he does this; no comment at all would almost certainly be wiser politically, as Otto advises. But Aemond does it anyway, with deep trenches of violent determination knit into his scarred brow.

The 1972 presidential election is held on Tuesday, November 7th. It is not until the early hours of the morning on Wednesday the 8th that Aemond learns he has narrowly lost. It couldn’t possibly be construed as your fault; he wins Florida by a greater margin than he had in 1968. As the sun rises in a bright, cloudless sky, Aemond’s entourage clears out of the Lincoln Sitting Room, leaving the two of you alone with the droning television. Aemond is sipping an Old Fashioned on one end of the couch. You light yourself a Lucky Strike cigarette on the other. For once, Aemond doesn’t seem to mind.

“You know,” Aemond muses after a while. “Ronald Reagan is divorced.”

Your heart is racing; you aren’t sure what he’s offering. You’re petrified to say the wrong thing and change his mind. “Yeah, he is.”

Aemond nods, twirling his Old Fashioned so the ice cubes clink against the misty glass, not looking at you. “I think I’ll marry Alys and adopt the boy.”

And that’s how you learn that what Aegon said in the doorway of a hospital room four and half years ago was true, no impassioned declarations, no gratitude, only grudges that have grown quiet and cold and dormant. At last, Aemond is done with you.

~~~~~~~~~~

Otto, glowering spitefully, getaway car procurement extraordinaire, hands you the keys to a green Chevy Nova. On the front steps of the White House, you say goodbye to a palpably heartbroken Nate. He gives you the notebook pages and greetings cards. You give him a kiss on the cheek, a parting stain of red lipstick. But instead of blood, the color makes you think of cherry-flavored Mr. Mistys, the Lucky Strike logo, roses, sunburn, firelight, the rust-hued earth of the desert. You duck into the Nova and start driving.

The East Coast unfolds into the Midwest and then turns jagged as you hit the Rocky Mountains. At a gas station in Albuquerque, New Mexico, you toss your remaining birth control pills—still squirreled away in a box of hollowed-out tampons—into a trash bin. At a McDonald’s in Asher, Arizona, just forty minutes outside of Yuma, you stop to get a large Coca-Cola and touch up your makeup in the bathroom mirror: black eyeliner, gold shadow, both as heavy as you want them to be. You stroll back to your Nova under a radiant November sky that feels like summer, smiling to yourself. The hem of your roomy, floral skirt billows around your brown leather boots in the desert wind. Your earrings are small, glinting gold hoops. Your white tank top is simple and hand-crocheted, found at a yard sale in Amarillo, Texas; but your sunglasses are Bugatti, a gift from Ludwika.

You park outside the only school on the Fort Yuma Indian Reservation and go inside to the front office. The secretary says distractedly: “Can I help you, ma’am?” Then she does a double take. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear, do I…do I know you from somewhere…?”

“You might,” you say, pushing your sunglasses up into your hair. It’s only shoulder-length now, but growing, and wild from the wind. “I was hoping to find Mr. Targaryen, does he still work here?”

“He sure does, but he doesn’t like anyone calling him that.”

Of course he wouldn’t. “Just Aegon then. Which classroom is…?”

But before you can finish your question, and before she can answer, you hear echoing through the labyrinthian hallways the start of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Bad Moon Rising, not just an acoustic guitar but bass and drums too.

“I see the bad moon a-risin’

I see trouble on the way

I see earthquakes and lightnin’

I see bad times today

Don’t go around tonight

Well it’s bound to take your life

There’s a bad moon on the rise.”

The secretary laughs, keeping rhythm with taps of her pencil on her desk. “I guess you can find him on your own, can’t ya?”

Yes, you can. You follow the music through long empty corridors, wondering where all the students are. You drag your fingertips—black polish, chipped around the edges—along grooves in the cinder block walls that have been painted over with vibrant murals. The song is getting louder, and now you hear other noises too, an ocean of energetic voices and squealing chairs.

“I hear hurricanes a-blowin’

I know the end is comin’ soon

I fear rivers over flowin’

I hear the voice of rage and ruin

Don’t go around tonight

Well it’s bound to take your life

There’s a bad moon on the rise, alright!”

You step into the cafeteria, raucous with students swapping pudding cups and bags of chips. Many of them are watching the stage, clapping along, playing their own imaginary guitars. Aegon is there strumming the sparkling gold guitar you sent him for Christmas back in 1968. He hasn’t seen you yet; he’s grinning at the kids up on the stage with him—his fellow bandmates, his fledgling rockstars—and leaning back from the mic to give them pointers. But Cosmo has. He flies out of his seat and crashes into you, now nearly ten years old, long blonde hair, a Rolling Stones t-shirt.

“You’re back!” he bellows over the music as you hug him. Teachers chatting amongst themselves by the wall give you curious glances.

“Yeah, kiddo. I am.”

“For a visit?”

“Maybe for a little longer than that.”

“Yay!” he shouts, jumping up and down.

You look back to Aegon, and now his eyes catch on yours: instantaneous recognition, disbelief, amazement. He’s just like you remember him; he’s just like he is in your dreams. You raise an eyebrow and wave tentatively. His own words surface in your skull like swimming up through cool, sunlit water: What are we gonna do about it? And Aegon smiles, the god of light, music, healing, truth.

Now his tiny bandmates are yelling at him, irate. He’s still plucking at his guitar on autopilot, but he’s missed his cue to sing the last verse. He shakes off his astonishment and continues, beaming, watching you.

“Hope you got your things together

Hope you are quite prepared to die

Looks like we’re in for nasty weather

One eye is taken for an eye

Well don’t go around tonight

Well it’s bound to take your life

There’s a bad moon on the rise.”

Cosmo sprints back to his lunch to stop a friend from seizing his unguarded Ding Dongs.

“Don’t come around tonight

Well it’s bound to take your life

There’s a bad moon on the rise.”

Aegon gives his guitar a final few strums as the cafeteria erupts into cheers and applause. His bandmates bow to their audience as Aegon takes off his guitar, leaps down from the stage, runs to you as children twist in their seats to stare. He’s wearing khaki shorts, tan moccasins, a half-unbuttoned white shirt that actually fits him, dog tags with Daeron’s name on them. He’s so afraid to ask the question; he’s terrified you won’t say the right answer. “Io���what the hell are you doing here?”

You shrug, casual, teasing. “Didn’t like where I was. Thought I’d try someplace new.”

He touches your face to make sure you’re real, marveling at you, his voice going hushed. “We’ve lost so much time.”

“Don’t worry. Your life’s only half over.”

Aegon laughs, eyes shining. “I’m really, really looking forward to the rest of it.”

You can feel the smile on his lips as he kisses you; you can hear a quiet, kind melody that fills the universe, the sound of all the chains of gravity breaking and moons drifting free from their planets.

[faithshouseofchaos]

Contagious smile — Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

angst with some comfort

Word count 1k

Summary— y/n loves her boyfriend’s smile so much that she hates to see him sad.

P.s this could be better but I’m fighting a nasty migraine

Thank you @mrs-liebgott for the idea 🤭🤭🤭 (we actually have a lot of Daniel Ricciardo content drafted up in google docs)

You were captivated by Daniel's smile. Its infectious nature never fails to bring you joy. If it were within your power, you would ensure that Daniel never experienced sadness. Despite your efforts, unbeknownst to you, Daniel was facing an onslaught of hateful messages from fans. You didn’t know about the hateful comments and messages until someone brought it up to you. You did know that something was wrong with Daniel, you didn’t know what that was.

Daniel sat in his room, scrolling through the malicious comments on his social media page. Each hurtful word felt like a dagger to his heart. He tried to hide the pain from you, not wanting to burden you with his problems. As he sat alone, his smile fading from his face, he longed for your comfort but couldn't bring himself to mention it to you. Lost in a sea of negativity, Daniel closed his eyes momentarily, trying to compose himself. His usual cheerful demeanor betrayed none of the turmoil he was feeling inside. Yet, just a knock on his door snatched him out of his thoughts. He quickly hid his phone beneath a pillow as he called out, "Yeah? Come in."

As you entered the room, you found Daniel seated on the edge of his bed, his eyes betraying a hint of sadness. He attempted a weak smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Sensing something was off, you approached him, settling down beside him.

"Is everything alright? You've been unusually quiet lately." You voiced your concern, gently touching his shoulder.

Daniel's initial instinct was to brush off your question with a casual remark, but the weariness in his eyes betrayed his true feelings. He hesitated for a moment, knowing he couldn't hide his emotions from you any longer.

"It's just... some stuff, you know? Fans being harsh again." He tried to downplay it, but his voice was tinged with a subtle tremble.

You could see the hurt in his eyes, even though he tried to mask it. You knew him too well to believe his casual dismissal. You scooted closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" You said softly, your fingers gently tracing patterns on his back.

A wave of relief washed over Daniel as he found solace in your comforting gesture. He leaned into your touch, allowing himself to let his guard down for a moment.

"I know... I just don't want to worry you. I'm used to it." He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it gets to me sometimes."

Your heart ached for him, knowing how much pain the negative comments could cause. You turned to face him fully, your eyes meeting his.

"It's okay to be human, Daniel. You don't have to pretend it doesn't affect you. Not with me." You spoke gently, your hand reaching up to brush his messy hair off his forehead.

Daniel's walls crumbled as your words hit him harder than any cruel comment ever could. He looked into your eyes, his own filled with vulnerability and gratitude.

"I just... sometimes I feel like I can never please everyone. No matter what I do, there's always someone ready to tear me down." He confessed, his voice breaking slightly.

You pulled him closer, allowing him to rest his head on your chest. You began gently running your fingers through his hair, hoping to soothe his troubled mind.

"You're chasing the impossible, Daniel. You can't please everyone, and that's okay. What matters is staying true to yourself." You responded softly, your fingers now rubbing circles on his back.

He closed his eyes, finding comfort in your words and the soothing touch of your fingers. Each breath felt easier as your presence provided a haven.

"I hate how they make me doubt myself. I hate how they make me question my worth." He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Those people don't define your worth," you replied firmly, your tone filled with conviction. "They don't know the real you, the kind, loving, wonderful person that you are."

You gently tilted his chin up, meeting his gaze with your own. "You're Daniel Ricciardo, a talented racer with a heart of gold. Don't let them take that away from you."

Daniel looked into your eyes, surprised by the ferocity of your words. He realized at that moment just how fiercely you believed in him. The impact of your unwavering support washed over him, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"You always know what to say to make me feel better," he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

You smiled at the sight of his smile, knowing you had broken through the façade he put up. You shifted slightly, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.

"You'll never have to find out," you said, your voice muffled against his shoulder. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

Daniel held you close, grateful for your unshakeable presence in his life. He felt the weight of his burdens slowly lifting, replaced by a sense of security and love.

"Thank you," he murmured, his face buried in your hair. "For never giving up on me, even when I try to push you away."

"You can try, but you'll never succeed," you replied with a soft chuckle. You pulled away slightly, your hand coming up to cup his face. "I'm not going anywhere. We'll face whatever comes together, alright?"

He leaned into your touch, the warmth of your palm on his cheek grounding him. He nodded, a sincere smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Together," he echoed. "I like the sound of that."

You beamed back at him, relieved to see some of the tension leaving his body. You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"Now, no more dwelling on those hateful comments," you said firmly but gently. "You're worth so much more than the opinions of a few bitter fans."

Daniel inhaled deeply, relishing the feeling of your lips on his skin. He knew you were right. The hateful comments shouldn't define him.

"You're right," he said slowly, his voice gaining strength. "I need to focus on the positivity, on the people who truly love and support me."

“Exactly now have I told you how much I love your smile?” You asked. Daniel's expression softened as a warm blush crept up his cheeks. He chuckled softly, feeling his heart skip a beat at your words.

"You may have mentioned it a time or two," he teased, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "But I never get tired of hearing it. Especially from you."

You matched his smile with a grin of your own, your fingers tracing the edge of his jawline.

"Well, prepare to hear it again," you said, your voice filled with affection. "I love your smile, Daniel. It's contagious, and it brightens up my day every time I see it."

Daniel felt a surge of emotions coursing through him at your heartfelt words. The fact that you found joy in something as simple as his smile meant more to him than anything else.

"You have no idea what your words do to me," he confessed, his voice filled with tenderness. He gently took your hand in his, his thumbs tracing soft patterns over your knuckles.

Daniel's heartbeat quickened at your words, his entire body buzzing with a mixture of happiness and affection. He pulled you closer, gently wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace.

"You've got me wrapped around your finger, you know that?" He murmured, his voice low and filled with sincerity. "I never stand a chance when you look at me like that."

You let out a soft laugh, enjoying the way his proximity made your heart race. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you played with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck, relishing in the intimacy of the moment.

"Oh, I know," you replied, your voice soft and filled with playfulness. "But you don't seem to mind it too much."

Daniel chuckled, his body responding to your touch as he leaned into your caress. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and finding comfort in your presence.

"I don't mind it at all," he murmured, his words muffled against your skin. "Especially when it results in having you this close to me."

You felt a wave of warmth spread through your body as he spoke, his breath hot against your neck. Your fingers tangled gently in his hair, the sensation sending shivers down your spine.

"Good," you replied, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. "Because I plan to keep you wrapped around my finger as long as you'll let me, Daniel Ricciardo."

Tagged— @ashy-kit @astraeaworld @alwayzbeenale @67-angelofthelordme-67 @anedpev @amatswimming @a-casual-romantic @bblouifford @bbtoni @barcelonaloverf1life @badassturtle13 @charlesf1leclerc @clowngirlsstuff @crashingwavesofeuphoria @entr4p3 @eugene-emt-roe @embrosegraves @formulas-bitch @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @formulaal @hangmandruigandmav @dark-night-sky-99 @ironcowboycopnickel @jeffs77 @lollypop90907 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @llando4norris @omgsuperstarg @mrs-liebgott @oconswrld @otako5811 @purplephantomwolf @raikkxz @toasttt11 @strugglingyetvibing @sweate-r-weathe-r @swifth0lic @the-ghost-lovwr @tallrock35 @uluvjay @vellicora @venusisnothere @thef1diary

[lesbojournals]

Hi Liz! I’ve just read your poly!marauders pregnancy fic and I love it! Your reading is stunning!

I’m here with a special request… I was wondering if you could write a poly!marauders x fem!reader where reader is acting weird and distant and the boys are worried and at the end she was hiding a huge secret, a pregnancy. She was scared they wouldn’t want a baby but they all ended up really happy about it? Just some slight angst with happy ending. ❤️

a/n: hi anon! i did put a little bit of my own twist to this, hope that's okay!

Poly!Marauders x Pregnant!Reader

It had only been two days. In fact, it was only the beginning of the second day. 

One full day and some hours since you found out you were pregnant.

One full day and some hours since you started ignoring your boys.

What else were you to do? It was a complete surprise. You'd never even discussed having a baby together, let alone if they even want children.

After taking your pregnancy test, you bolted out of your shared flat with no explanation, driving yourself to the beach so you could have a long cry.

Each boy texted you separately and called you separately, various times. You ignored every call.

I'll be home soon. Staying at my parents for the night. is what you texted in your shared chat. 

You weren't lying…yet. Just withholding information.

As you had driven up to your parents house you felt the tears all ready to burst. The shocked look on your mom’s face when you were at the door was enough for her to bring you in and comfort whatever you were going through. You had told her your secret, and she admitted the boys reached out to her in concern. You fell asleep on your parents’ couch in distress.

One day and a few hours is when you woke up. You scrolled through your phone. Missed texts from Remus, missed calls from Sirius, voicemails from James. 

“You're going to have to tell them, you know.” Your mom entered the living room with a cup of tea for you. 

You gratefully took it and sat up, shaking your head. Your hand went to your stomach without thinking. 

“I know,” You said, starting to feel worked up again. “I know.”

It was an hour or so later of your mom giving you the confidence to tell your boyfriends that led you to dial Remus’ number. 

“Honey?! Oh, my love, are you okay?!”

“Is that her??”

“Give me the phone!!”

The voices of your boyfriends rang through the speaker, and you sighed with a shaky voice. 

“Can you guys meet me at the beach? We need to talk.”

It was James that broke the silence that took place after you spoke. 

“Yea, of course darling. Be there in 10?”

You felt tears dripping down your face. “Mm-hm. Love you. Bye.”

Three “Love you”s chorused through the phone. You hung up quickly and held your face in your hands as you cried. Your mom rubbed your back encouragingly.

“Love, it'll go okay. And if it doesn't I'll be right here for you.”

That brought you to arriving at the beach. Your mom drove you because of how emotionally distressed you were, not being able to control your tears. 

You saw James’ car in the lot and took a deep breath as you rubbed your eyes. 

“You got this sweet pea.” Your mom gave you a shoulder squeeze.

You hesitantly exited the car and watched as the boys did the same. 

They looked broken. Remus was unusually dressed in sweats and one of Sirius’ shirts and looked like he hadn't slept. James eyes were bloodshot and cheeks pink. Sirius, on the other hand, had a dangerous look on his face, borderline between looking like he'd scream or cry.

“Where have you been?!” He came off intimidating, eyes glossy. You flinched at his tone, leading Remus to step in front of him.

He grabbed your hands. “Dovey, why did you leave?”

You looked up at his hazel eyes, noticing James holding Sirius in a side hug behind Remus. 

“I…I…” Your voice cracked and you felt hot tears slide down your cheeks. 

Remus rubbed your hands gently with his thumbs. 

You let out a desperate cry and looked down at the ground. “I'm pregnant. I’m keeping it.”

With that Remus let go of your hands, and you felt your world collapse. You started to cry harder, about to bring your arms around your body to hug yourself before a body slammed into yours, grasping you tightly.

“Oh, love…” Sirius spoke into your neck. 

You looked up in shock at James and Remus, both looking utterly surprised. 

James stuttered as he spoke. “I, you, we are going to have a baby?”

“You guys are staying with me?” You asked, uncertain.

Sirius whipped from the crook of your neck to grab your face with both of his hands. 

“Is that what you thought dolly? That we wouldn't stay with you!!” He almost seemed hysteric at the thought.

You shrugged. 

“Oh sweetheart…” Remus spoke quiet. 

Before you knew it Remus and James both joined you in your hug, holding onto you tightly.

James was the one who broke it apart. “I just, I can't believe it.”

He grabbed your shoulders and gave them a gentle shake. “We’re going to be parents!!”

You blinked and James had you up in the air, swinging you around in a circle as Remus fretted and Sirius laughed. “We’re gonna be parents!!!”

[joonieskinks]

au where you were married to Cpt John MacTavish, but wake up to find yourself married to Sergeant Johnny MacTavish (original vs remake Soap)

“No,” you state coldly. The shock was still sinking in.

“No, Price. That’s not my husband.”

Price’s gaze puzzles. “You asked for Johnny MacTavish, this is Johnny. Our Johnny.” He gestures to your supposed husband, who is taking this all in himself, but he sits just staring at you.

Johnny, who couldn’t stop admiring your face, your body, your ring on your fourth finger. He gave you that. Well, sort of.

Johnny, who was your husband. You, his wife. He had a wife in another life. Gods, what a catch you are, how did he manage to bag you? he thinks.

Wait. Gods, does that mean he gets you too?

“I asked for my John, my John MacTavish, my husband. He-“ You state and finally look, really look at the man before you, this Johnny.

“He’s too young, it’s not the same. It’s- it’s off.” You look back down to the floor, you’re utterly confused. One moment you’re in bed at home, the next you’re on base in a room that’s designated for “MacTavish”. At first you thought it was a dream, so of course you went asking for your husband just to see his face again.

You didn’t expect to actually see him, well- a younger version of your husband. Certainly not an alive one. You had to pinch yourself, you really were here, this was real.

Maybe it was a second chance, maybe it was a cruel trick from the devil. You couldn’t tell just yet. You were hesitant, scared.

But Johnny on the other hand, he was having a hard time keeping still and his hands to himself.

“Cap’, can ye give us a moment?” Johnny asked his superior, who happily obliged. He eyed you as if to warn you not to do anything stupid, but still be backed out of the room.

You could still barely look at Johnny. He’s your husband, but so much younger, he’s still just as handsome, he’s technically yours but- it was all too weird. Would he even want you? What if he had someone else already?

“Bonnie? Will ya look at me?” Johnny comes straight up to you, holding your hands in his. His fingers playing with your wedding ring, he already loves the idea of it, of you as his. Never did he think he’d have anything remotely close to this, so he considers you a blessing.

You reluctantly keep your head down so Johnny brings one hand to cup your chin, forcing your gaze up to his face.

The sight of his concerned face nearly breaks your heart. It hurts to see him yet it’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of since his passing. To have him before you again. It’s all so overwhelming you can’t help but tear up.

“No need for that, lass.” He smiles as he cups your cheeks. It feels so good to have his skin on yours again, you close your eyes at the feeling.

“If you’ll have me, I’ll certainly have you. Even if ye are a cougar now.” He jokes and your eyes shoot open at his words. You hit him lightly out of annoyance, but he just smiles. You can’t help but begrudgingly smile back, rolling your eyes.

Same sense of humour. Maybe he is your husband after all.

“I missed you so much, Johnny.” You admit, bringing your fingers to graze across his face. To actually feel him again, it really feels like you’re getting your second chance at love.

“‘Ts nice to finally meet my missus.” He says softly as he brings his forehead to rest against yours, but it’s you who brings your lips to meet his.

Then it hits you that this younger version of your husband might have even more stamina and strength- so naturally you waste no time getting him back into his quarters and testing that theory.

At first you feel a little nervous that Johnny might not like what he sees. After all, you are a couple years older than he is now, but he’s utterly entranced as you stand bare before him. His hands all over your body, exploring every crevice, kissing you up and down. He can’t get enough.

“My wife’s so beautiful”, “my wife’s all mine”, “gonna make you feel so good, show you what a good husband I’ll make for ye.”

[anadiasmount]

learned from the best - jb blurb

quick sum: jude can’t help but thank the best teacher he’s ever had. the one who taught him the language he wants to ever share and speak with you.

“tu español a mejorado bastante,” you say, placing a kiss on his cheek, letting your lips linger for a few seconds. you were sat on his lap, jude looking up and rubbing his hand on your thigh “no pensé que ibas hacer eso mi amor.” (your spanish has gotten better… i didn’t think you’d do that, my love.)

“le quería enseñar a todos lo tanto que eh aprendido,” he says cheeky making you roll your eyes at his demeanor. “además era el momento perfecto, no crees?” he raises his brow as you watch in amusement, jude still a bit tipsy from the drinks he had. (i wanted to show everyone how much i have learned… also, it was the perfect time, don’t you think?)

“gracias por ser la mejor maestra que eh tenido,” jude smirks feeling your tiny slap on the side of his head. “solo lo dices por los recompensas que te daba después,” you squint your eyes while having a straight smile, yet having the urge to laugh. (thank you for being the best teacher i’ve ever had… you’re only saying that because of the rewards i gave you after…)

“in all seriousness, thank you. i wouldn’t have been able to do this without you. i know i was a pain in the ass most of the times, and you pushed me more than anyone else, but in the end you taught me a new language. your native language, and i can see how much that means to you,” jude says. “and now it means so much to me…”

“entonces eso significa que ahora vas a hablar con mi familia el español en la casa?” you deadpanned, jude’s face dropping as he shook his head immediately, frantic about your suggestion. “ah no…” jude chuckled nervously, “i learned but i haven’t perfected it pretty girl. not just yet, i want them to be amazed,” he kisses your hand, over the small “j” charm on your bracelet. (so that means you’ll finally talk to my family in spanish at home?)

“i guess that’s fair…”

“i want our kids to learn spanish though,” jude says seriously, making your heart race at his topic of kids. the whole day he spent appreciating, thanking, carrying kids, including his teammates new baby that had your heart fluttering with nerves but overall joy. “you mean it?” your eyes soften knowing that no matter if he’s drunk off his ass or sober he serious about it. serious about you, his future that involves you.

“cien por ciento. yo quiero una familia grande contigo. y que nos hijos hablen español,” he stutters nervously, yet it brings small tears in your eyes. “aras mi madre la mujer más feliz del mundo,” you joke, making him laugh. (one hundred percent. i want a big family with you. and that our kids speak spanish… you’ll make my mother the happiest woman in the world.)

“y tu? tu también serás la mujer más feliz del mundo?” jude asks resting his head on your shoulder. tired from the blissful game, the traveling, celebrating, yet for you, he felt more alive than anything. he pictured his future exactly like this, you on his lap, watching your babies play on the pitch, their giggles making the both of you grateful. (and you? will you also be the happiest woman in the world?)

“ya lo soy,” you whisper, brushing your hand on his forehead and placing a kiss. (i already am…)

“te amo, mi amor,” jude says with a tiny accent that has you laughing happily. you would never ever take for granted how since learning those two words, he used them anytime and anywhere. (i love you, my love…)

“y yo más.” (and i more.)