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poisonofthepaint · 2 days ago

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why are you up here?

a story told through cigarettes and suicidal tendencies. you and jack spend the time trying to talk each other down from the roof, until the fourth of july, when neither of you can get up there.

cw: widower!jack, reader has a dead best friend, jack calls reader kid, age gap, kissing, probably not accurate information on how the military works, that's really it but this is probably the most emotional thing i've written in a while lol so beware. uhhh also cigarette smoking, duh. Also. not really proofread so i'm sorry

wc: 4.6k

The first time you meet Abbot on the roof, it’s you who’s on the ledge. It’s the first chilly day of the year. Mid-September, the scorching summer finally seems to come to a halt. Your legs dangle off the building, your back is pressed against the concrete floor. Your stethoscope hangs above your head on the bar that’s supposed to prevent situations like this. The door opens and closes. You close your eyes and listen to his steady gait walk towards you. The sound echoes off the concrete.

“You’re gonna give me a fucking heart attack, kid.” You don’t answer him, or look at him. Your hand reaches up and lightly bats the medical instrument. You watch it swing back and forth. “Why are you up here?”

“I don’t know, my attending always comes up here, figured I’d see what all the rave is about.”

He scoffs at you, “Right, I usually do it at the end of my shift though. You’re on hour two. And I’ve never once laid down. I mean, really, this is strange.”

“I’m tired.” You state plainly, still not moving, except for the hand that’s batting at the rope.

“Okay, you’ve gotta stand up, it’s scaring me.”

“I don’t know if I care.”

You’ve never been this nonchalant; this detached. That’s how Abbot knows something is wrong. Yes, you lost a patient, but he’s never seen it hit you so hard that you had to come up to the roof about it. He doesn’t know what to make of it. He thinks back, and tries to figure out why it would affect you this badly, but then he realizes, he actually doesn’t know anything about you. Sure, he knows where you went to medical school, and he knows that you’re funny, and you dislike bedside manner. You love stabilizing gunshot victims, your favorite restaurant is a Mexican joint that will give you a free margarita after you’ve had your second. He knows you have a shitty ex that wrote a rap song about you. And he knows you can calm an irrational patient down in a heartbeat. But he doesn’t know anything about your past. Before medical school is a mystery to him.

He says your name in a gentle tone, you finally glance at him. “Listen, we can talk if you want. You know I’ll listen. Or, we can sit up here, in dead silence, but you have to come back from the ledge.”

You oblige, with a huge sigh, and scoot yourself back behind the bar. You still sit, but upright now. You feel like an animal locked in a cage.

“You know you did everything, right?”

“It was the same.” You say, “It was the same as Molly.”

Abbot nods, like he knows. He’s scared you’ll run if he asks for more information, but from your few words he can gather enough.

“I brought Molly to an ED just like this. They did everything they could too. But the wound was too severe. She was too out of it. She wasn’t a good student, hell, neither was I. But she had a fucking future, you know? Like, she deserved to at least try. But that fucking asshole ruined it all.”

He thinks back to that patient. Her dark hair, mangled. The deep cut on the side of her body, abdomen slashed. Abbot thinks about the girl’s blue eyes, how they went back and forth between the back of her head and staring directly at the light.

“Molly was in a car with some guy she was seeing. She liked him, he gave her all the shit for free, but one night, he got really high, and he and Molly were driving around for fun. But he went into a tree, and he died on impact. Molly had a stab wound from the windshield glass. She was scared of getting arrested, so she called me. I had to pull her out of the car, and by the time I got there, she was too out of it to fight about going to the hospital.”

Abbot soaks in your words, prepares himself for what you’re going to say next. He never stops staring at you. He still stands, hands in his pockets. He focuses on the top of your head. He notes how you shake it lightly every time you say Molly’s name. Like even the mere acknowledgment of it brings up images. He knows how it feels, he has a few names like that.

“I parked in the ambulance bay, and ran her inside. I held her hand while she bled out on the table.”

You take a deep breath and look back at him, wondering if you’re just talking to yourself. Abbot pulls something out of his pocket, a pack of Marlboro blacks. You scoff, and he smiles when he sees a smirk come to your face.

“You smoke old man cigarettes.”

“Sorry, I don’t have your princess ones.”

You take the cigarette and the lighter from him, flicking it a few times before it finally lights. You take a deep inhale, letting the smoke fill your lungs.

“They had stabilized the wound, at least a little bit, but then they started their neuro tests. No eye reaction to cold water. Pupils blown. She was fucking braindead. They said she must’ve hit her head when the car crashed. She didn’t have any family. She was an aged out foster kid. I was her emergency contact. I had to choose. I had to tell them to pull the plug— to stop. I know no one could’ve saved her, or made her not get in that car. But I still hate it.” You take another deep pull of the stick, the wind blows, and the smoke burns your eyes.

You stand now, still smoking. You take another drag before offering it to Abbot. He takes it from your hand, taking his own pull. You note how he holds it, held between pointer and thumb, other fingers floating above it.

He nods his head, “I’ve got a few Molly’s. A few cases that hit too close. I wish I had something I could say.”

You know he’s right. There’s nothing to say.

“It just fucking sucks, man. Like, really bad.” you voice.

Abbot lets out a chuckle, “Yeah, it does.”

There’s no changing her death. There’s no changing that there will be more Molly’s. This you know.

“My first day back to work after my wife died, I got a patient that looked like her, or maybe I was projecting on the first woman with red hair I saw come in.” You glance at him, you didn’t even know he was a widower. You must have started after it happened.

“It took Robby and Dana to talk me down from here. Honestly, I was mostly scared shitless that Dana was gonna kill me for making her walk up twelve flights of stairs.” He shakes his head, and locks eyes with you, offering you the cigarette back. You take it gladly, quickly putting it back between your lips.

“It doesn’t get any easier, but you realize that they don’t want you to join them, wherever they are. Molly wants you here, and I’m sure she knows that you did all you could for her. And you did all you could for that girl in there.”

You nod along to what he’s saying, and stub the cigarette out on the bottom of your shoe.

“You ready to get back to it? I know it won’t go away, but I’ll deal with the girl’s family, okay? Sit this one out. You can take the foot fungus in central fifteen.”

You laugh, a loud one, and Abbot thinks to himself, finally, there’s that noise I’ve been waiting to hear.

“Fuck you, and your foot fungus.”

He ticks his head towards the door, and you head in behind him.

The next time you’re led to the roof, it’s snowing. A cold day in February, the month that drags forever. This time, Jack stands at the ledge, no coat, no gloves. Just standing. You’re thankful he at least wore a long sleeve under his scrub shirt today.

“You need your hands to work in the ED.” you say, plainly.

It was only a few months back that he was talking you down, and since then, you’ve grown closer together. Sure, you two were always friends. But after telling him about Molly, it was like something shifted. You loved to mess around with him when you could. And he seemed to really take a liking to you after your stint. He always dragged you onto cases with him, ignoring the efforts of Shen to be the one to teach you something. It was nice, it felt like having a friend, even if you only saw each other in the hospital.

“Why are you up here?” Jack asks, not turning around.

“I brought you a present. But, you can only have it if you put on these gloves.”

Jack turns half-heartedly, and you wave a pack of cigarettes in front of him, like it’s a toy.

“You call yellow American Spirits a present?”

You scoff, “Fine, I’ll smoke one. Asshole.”

And you do. You take one out of the pack, and light it, taking a deep drag. “I’m sorry that she had red hair.” you say softly.

It’s the only detail you knew about his wife. The only thing he dared to share with you about her.

The woman you spent the last hour coding had bright red hair that laid on the table like a cruel joke. It was all spread out, and it looked brushed, even though she had been in the ED, awaiting an ICU bed for three days. She had liver failure, and it had finally given out. Even when you were operating on her, everyone in the room knew that the only thing that would fix her would be a new liver, but you still tried; she didn’t have a DNR.

Jack reaches a hand back from the ledge, asking for the lit cigarette.

“Gloves,” you say.

“No,” he replies firmly.

“Well,” you sigh, “I tried.” you say, handing him the lit cigarette.

You walk closer to the ledge. Of course, he’s in front of the bar, looking around. You don’t pressure him to talk, just stand with him patiently, like he did for you.

“My wife, Camille, died at home, in bed with me. I woke up one day, and she was just gone. Couldn’t get her up. They said her heart just stopped beating. Sudden cardiac arrest. Her hair was laid out just like that patient’s. I did CPR for twenty minutes straight. They had to pull me off her.”

You swallow and it’s thick. The cold temperature makes your nose run. He offers you the cigarette back.

“No, keep it.” you reach back in your pocket, fetching your own.

“Camille was the best. I met her right before I enlisted. I had done two years of college, and it just wasn’t really for me. I was studying sports medicine, and I hated it. An enlister talked me into it, told me that I could do real medicine on the field, and I liked that idea. I’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

You nod, the storyline connecting in your head.

“Camille wrote me letters every week, called me on the phone whenever I could talk. I loved her so much, I proposed in a letter, and we got married after I was done with basic.”

“Damn, surprised you didn’t scare her away.” Jack scoffs and shakes his head at you. It was normal for you two to make offhanded, dry jokes at each other. He knows you mean no harm.

“She stayed with me through it all. Through the war, and the trauma, and the fucking amputation. She took care of me when I didn’t want her to. When I begged her to leave me so she could have a normal life, and not be stuck with some guy who has to wear a prosthetic. But she loved me, and, man, I loved the shit out of her.”

He took a drag of the cigarette, and shook his head at the sirens coming down the street. He finally turns the way you’re standing. You have your one arm crossed, tucked into the warmth of your side. The other hand holds the cigarette steady by your mouth. You can feel the snow melting in your hair, and you know you’ll be a bit damp when you go back in.

He finally locks eyes with you, “And then, when everything seemed normal, I had gotten into a good place here, she worked from home, so I got to spend the days with her. She just died. Just like that. In bed, with her hair sprawled out on the pillow.”

You nod, like you understand the ache of losing a spouse, even though you don’t. Camille was probably like fifteen Molly’s for him, you realize.

“I would ask you to come back from the ledge, but after that, man, I don’t know.”

Jack laughs again, and you smile at him, brightly, thinking maybe your shining smile will convince him to come with you.

“I was told once, though, that they would want me here, doing what I do best.” Jack looks down, a rare break of eye contact from him. “Jack, Camille would want you here. She would want you to stay saving people. She doesn’t want you to meet her again, not yet.”

“Yeah, I know.” He says, still looking at the ground. “Someone told me though, that it still fucking sucks.”

You laugh, and he peers at you through his eyelashes. Finally, he swoops under the bars, coming to where you're standing. The cigarettes are long abandoned on the ground, snow covering them softly.

“Thank you,” Jack says, and you’re a bit taken aback.

Usually, he would end something like this with a joke, but he seems like he actually seems grateful, and that scares you even more. You wonder if today was the day he might’ve done it. And you thank God that you stood in the gas station line to buy a fresh pack yesterday.

“Sure, whenever.” You say, looking up at him, squinting a bit in the snow. “You know, I think Myrna was saying something about needing to use the bathroom, if you want something easy.”

He scoffs at you, and lets out a small chuckle, “There is nothing easy about that woman.”

You lead him back inside, and you have to admit, you’re proud that you can join the club of people who have successfully talked Abbot off the roof.

The next time you both ache to head to the roof, you’re unable to. A scorching hot Fourth of July. No wind, no clouds. The waiting room is filled with people who've been waiting since their 1:00PM barbecues, and the clock has just struck 10:00. Abbot has seen three patients with red hair code. You’ve had three car crashes caused by drugs, and two patients die that looked a little bit like Molly. To say the day was already going bad was an understatement.

You two kept sneaking looks at each other all night. Abbot’s eyes, usually hard and cold, would meet yours with a softness, like he knew what you needed, but also knew he couldn’t provide it. It was way too busy to let you sneak off for a break. This also meant he couldn’t, which led to him being a bit more snappy with the staff.

Jack wasn’t ever mean. Sure, he was firm, and he handed orders out like he was still running a combat zone, but you knew he meant no harm by it. Tonight, though, Jack was a little bit mean. He had snapped at Ellis after the first redhead coded, basically screaming, “Dammit, Ellis! How many times do I have to tell you that I need to assess every patient!”

He also yelled at Shen about his tendency for bathroom breaks, telling him that no grown man should have that small of a bladder, and that he should seriously get it checked out. Basically, Jack was about two hours away from being summoned to HR.

You had stopped caring after the first Molly-look alike died on your table. You had been silent, avoiding eye contact with all the staff, except Jack. you wanted to tell him to stop screaming, because it wasn’t helping anything, and you knew he’d regret it, but you also felt like it wasn’t your place. You wanted to scream too. If you had the seniority to do it, you probably would be snapping at everyone.

You knew that the Fourth was already a really bad day for Jack. he didn’t enjoy his service being paraded around by people who didn’t understand, he didn’t find the day as celebratory as everyone else seemed to. This was the first time he had worked it in a few years. And of course, he was rewarded by his dead wife haunting him all night long.

Finally, you find a moment to sneak away, having maxed out at five patients, all waiting for labs. You sneak into the break room, sitting in a flimsy plastic chair and throwing your hands on top of your head, suddenly aware of how hot it is in the ED. Since the department was kept so cold, it never really got hot, but it was way hotter than usual, maybe even at 70 degrees, you guessed.

You sit there like that, with your eyes closed, ignoring the chatter outside of the room, and it’s a nice feeling. The tears start to prick behind your eyelids, and you know if they start, you won’t stop, so you quickly think of something else, something happy. The first face to come to mind is Jack, which shocks you.

You think about the case he took with you about a week ago. A young boy, with a broken arm, who couldn’t seem to stop spilling sensitive information about his parents’ marriage to the both of you. He had been brought in by his kindergarten teacher, and she seemed equally humiliated.

While Jack set his broken bone, the kid babbled on. “Yeah, so, my mommy said that she doesn’t really like the man like that but my daddy seems to think she really likes him. My mommy and the man even have photos together on my mommy’s phone.” The kid says, all in one breath.

“Well, mommies can have friends.” Jack had said, trying not to get himself in trouble.

“Yeah, but, mommies and their friends don’t usually have S-E-X! At least, that’s what my daddy says. Wait, what is S-E-X?”

Jack jumped up from where he was sitting, “Dr., why don’t you get that propofol going?”

You gave him a quick salute and grabbed the medicine from the nurse, trying your hardest not to giggle at the awkwardness of the situation.

You feel a little bit better after recalling the memory, a small smile finds its way to your face.

The door creaks open and your eyes open at the noise, it’s Jack standing there, with a grim look on his face.

“Sorry, getting back out, I was waiting on labs.”

“S’fine,” He grumbles, coming to sit next to you.

“So, how are–”

“Don’t,”

You nod your head, and slowly get up from the chair you were sitting in. To your surprise, he puts a hand on your arm, and shoots you a look. You sit back down with him, but don’t dare to look over at his face again. You want to break the ice, but you’re not sure if it’s the right time. You want to just let him wallow, you want to wallow too. You want to smoke a million cigarettes on the roof with him, and not say a single word, because you both just know. That’s how you want to spend the rest of the night.

“You shouldn’t yell at people who don’t know why you’re upset.” you say.

“Maybe they shouldn’t do dumb shit then.” he huffs, a hand wiping over his face.

“They’re not being that dumb, they’re being the usual dumb.”

“So, what, I should only yell at you because you know why I’m upset?”

“You shouldn’t yell at anyone. But, sure, if you need to, yeah, I’ll take it.”

“Hell no. You just want to be punished because you’ve had Molly’s tonight.”

It was still terrifying how well he could read you. He knew that you wanted to be blamed; that you wanted to be told you could’ve done something different, even though you knew it wasn’t true.

“I’m not gonna yell at you, kid. I know you’re itching to get up there as much as me. I yell at those two buffoons because I know after today they won’t think anything of it. You’ll think about it if I yell at you.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because I’m not just your boss, like I am to them.”

You swallow hard, because now Jack has said what has gone unsaid for almost a year. That you were more than coworkers. You had never let it run away from you. You never, ever, met outside work. But contained in the walls of PTMC was charged energy that wasn’t appropriate for a boss and his subordinate.

“Jack, I can’t even begin to think about that right now.”

He nods slowly, like he knows he just dropped a bomb when he shouldn’t have. You finally look over at him to meet his hazel eyes that have been boring into your head since the moment he sat down. You give him a small, shaky smile, and stand up.

“I have to go check on patients.”

He nods again; says nothing, lets you leave the room. You close the door behind you and shake your head, trying to get the situation to leave you alone.

After midnight, it finally starts to quiet a little bit. Way less traumas, a lot more normal stuff, meaning you were finally able to thin the herd of the waiting room a bit. King and Langdon weren’t on until 5:00 but they snuck in early, around 3:00, which gave you a bit of slack. You try your hardest not to notice that Mel is obviously wearing Langdon’s shirt, but it’s difficult not to. She shoots you a glance, like she knows you know, and you give her a shrug and then a thumbs up. Mel blushes and hurries away, like she doesn’t want to be seen.

Finally, at 3:30, you make your way up to the roof. All twelve flights, you try to save your tears for the heights, but can’t seem to. When you open the door, you know that your eyes are already red. It doesn’t shock you that Jack is already up there, standing over the bar.

He glances back when the door closes, “I would ask why you’re up here, but I guess I already know.”

You join him over the metal railing, standing right next to him. There’s still no breeze outside, and it’s achingly hot for 3AM. “Yeah, real fucked up night, huh?” you laugh— a lot. To the point that your stomach hurts. And so does he, he slings an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side, for a quick hug.

You pull a pack out from your pocket, Marlboro reds this time.

“Trying something new?”

“I’m trying to compromise.”

He nods and takes one from you, pulling out his black lighter, that’s so dinged up it looks like he’s had it since the war, by the way. You honestly don’t know what he does to get it so dirty. He hands it over to you, and you light yours, deeply inhaling the first pull.

You two stand there like that for a while, smoking in silence. He doesn’t take his arm off of your shoulder. It’s a nice comfort; the physical affection after a shitty day.

“I can’t believe we still have three more hours.”

He hums, “Should be easier now that King and Frank are here.”

“You know they’re sleeping together, right?”

“Oh, yeah, big time. It’s way funnier to let them think they’re being subtle though.”

You laugh, and choke on the smoke that was halfway into your lungs.

“About what I said earlier, if you don’t feel the same, I get it. I know I’m pretty messed up, and a lot older. I understand.”

“No, I do feel the same. I do. And your age doesn’t deter me. I’m pretty messed up too, if you couldn’t tell. It won’t be easy, which is what I’m worried about. I feel like they always say love should be easy. That it just happens. Which I guess it did.”

“Yeah, it did.”

“I just feel like I’m always fighting. I’m always fighting to do the right thing for myself. It’s like survivor’s guilt, I guess. If everyone I couldn’t save doesn’t get to be happy, why should I? Why should I live a good life, and not suffer?”

“Don’t let yourself go there, don’t. Hey–” Jack grabs your face with his hands and turns you towards him. “What’d I tell you, huh? She’d want you to be happy.”

“Are you gonna let yourself be happy? Are you gonna make everyone else’s shifts bad because a woman comes in with red hair?”

“I’m going to let myself be happy for you. I’ve talked to my therapist about it, he thinks I’m ready, he thinks it’d be good. He thinks you’re good for me.”

He lets his hands relax to your shoulders, so he’s holding you gently. “It’s so scary,” you mumble, close to tears again, “It’s so scary to be happy.”

“We have to, though. We have to.” Jack nods his head at you until you start nodding too. Until he thinks you’ve understood him.

His eyes break away from yours to look down at your lips. He runs his thumb over them, and you let him. You feel like your heart has dropped to your stomach. You forget where you are until a firework goes off in the background, startling you both.

“Jesus, who is still doing fireworks?”

“Probably someone who’s gonna come in with an injury in fifteen minutes.”

He hums again, and ducks under the railing, pulling you with him.

“Before they do, I need to do this.”

As the second firework makes a loud pop in the sky, Jack leans in, his lips finally touching yours. The kiss is soft, like he’s still scared. His hand cradles your face, and his thumb brushes soft strokes on your cheekbone. The fireworks continue in the background, popping and sprinkling down. You feel like they’re going off in your chest. You push yourself impossibly closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He’s steady, rock solid, for the first time since Molly died, you feel like you have somewhere to toss the burden, at least for this minute. You throw the ache off the roof, and let yourself be close to someone again.

The all familiar sound of sirens pulls you two apart. You smile up at him, and he smiles back, no teeth, of course, but a small grin. You know he knows how you’re feeling. You know he feels the same. And, God, it feels good to know.

“Back to it?”

You sigh, “Three more hours.”

Jack’s hand is steady on your lower back the whole twelve flights down.

#jack abbot x reader #jack abbot fanfic #jack abbot imagine #jack abbot x you #jack abbot #the pitt fanfiction

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grotesquevi · 3 days ago

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cw # this story continues what happened in the arsonist, settled in a medieval au, feel free to read it before as you might be confused if not. 18+ mdni as it contains smut at some point, homophobia, internalized misogyny, sevika cameos.

this is just a teaser from the entire fic that will come out in a few days, also not proof-read so any mistakes? let them be — wc: 1.8k

vi dreams of coming back to winter.

craves the silence of a snowstorm even when it only causes disaster to the realm, finds herself unable to close her eyes again without recurring to the same thought: are you even affected by her like she is? do you spend countless nights under the poor illuminations of a candle slowly consuming over your nightstand? staring at the ceiling and not moving a muscle like she does — do you wish she was closer to you like she wished upon your company every night?

even when the time passes, she yearns for coming back to a weather she hates if it means you’d be there in the cabin again, trying to warm up in her arms, too loyal to her beliefs to ever fall again in your traps. it's not possible but she's distracted sometimes during the day when you're walking past her and your perfume stays in the air even when you're long gone, how you carried yourself with grace despite having to endure your mother's slowly rotting away in a gigantic bed.

"what we did," vi remembers her own words like a spell from the witch in the woods, haunts her like a childhood nightmare "it cannot happen again, my lady."

a royal is destined to a bright future, a huge impact in life meanwhile vi's stuck being a nobody, ready to die for the crown, for you. the metal on her waist yanks heavy on her belly cause she swore years ago about giving her life for the well-being of your family, die for a greater motive, something good.

"if that's your choice violet," it saddens her somehow. the fact you don't seem bothered at her words, even when vi's hearts already pounding in her chest like a horse running to meet death in war. "i'll still ask about having you in my personal guard. i think your skills are helpful in a higher rank."

"as you wish, my princess."

she doesn't want no special treatment — fuck that, vi needs to earn it. however she's bound when you're looking at her like that. bound to protect you, to serve and be nothing but a weapon in your ruling hand when swearing upon her honor, bended knee in front of your mother last rational moments. you could have her heart if it's a demand for the greater good. it's what every knight would offer, what she needs to do.

so violet's following you around in a silver armor from months now, impeccable, clean white cape on her back. your knights now on council meetings, outside your room day and night, in the hallways and it's driving her to an insanity she cannot comprehend: since the very moment you fell asleep in her arms, since you melted in her touch she cannot stay close for more than a minute. impossible to share a room when no one's around cause she gets distracted, and her work relies on keeping you alive, on answering for your well-being: can’t afford any distraction.

in her entire life, she has never felt so useless, so inebriate to someone's charm — a knight its not supposed to burn for the love of it's princess, held such feelings that went beyond her duty to serve, but she's trapped there in whatever you are, whatever you showed her outside the castle. makes sense you’d set her soul ablaze. the forever unworthy dog that's waiting outside your door despite all efforts of pushing you away, of standing still and ready for combat even when she flinches when some old man of the council has the nerve to raise his voice ever so slightly at your new ideas.

violet vanderson has now become a burden, a burden with a good name, a good place in the court and a secured future, a known knight that's attracting a lot of attention even when she would rather be showing a fist of iron to the injustice in the realm. something in her new position more than just your personal guard.

hope is a dangerous thing for somebody who has nothing, and to vi it's hard to keep her desires in check as you continued with your life holding no physical ache for her touch, not at plain sight at least cause you're so collected, so aware of yourself, of the power you carry now on your shoulders and haunts you night and day.

hope is a dangerous thing.

"i don't think my marriage is something we absolutely need right now," in the wall close to your seat vi's brows furrow in question when you're suggested by half of the council the need to join forces with noxus in an arranged marriage, already plotting for decent suitors without you knowing — "my mother's dying, and i'm going to ascend to the throne before i'm thinking about any political alliance."

"a marriage would benefit the people," at the lack of the presence of the queen you're responsible for the realm's destiny and its future, holding the weight of ruling a nation in your bare hands. "they’re cultivating fear already upon the uncertainty of the queen's destiny, afraid war's coming. we don't have the resources to protect the citizens from hunger, nor the pains of a war."

"noxus has been our declared enemy from years now," you reply, making vi’s gaze falter for a moment cause she can smell it in the air still: you’re annoyed — "any alliance with them is nothing but a lie. and i won't feed the people outside this castle with nothing but honesty. we'll make arrangements with piltover if necessary, i know the queen and they owe it to us."

"you're taking a rushed decision my princess," the title is a reminder of your level, how you're not yet a queen, a regent royal who's in control of the final decisions. makes your body stiffens and vi, even from she is, can see the tension in your muscles, the invisible threads that came out of your back and connected you to the ceiling, kept you up like a real-life-puppet. "we cannot reject their proposal this quickly, you cannot be so blind to not see the future of our nation. your mother would wish upon your marriage as soon as possible too, this- it could lead to a new war."

"despite joining forces with piltover, i'm afraid it won't be enough," another man adds, agreeing to the proposed idea, "the noxian forces hold great power, and compared to our tropes, i'm afraid we don't have the necessary."

"that's enough," much like your family, the tone you use travels across the room like a wild fox chasing its food. makes vi shiver under her armor, looking away cause she's afraid her eyes were already digging holes in back of your skull, too frightened to think about what you'd think if finding out how her chest twists at the thought of you marrying a man — "until my mother get out of bed i wont be doing no courtship. the nation of noxus is not at war with us still, and i'm intending to keep it that way gentlemen. the meeting is over."

you don't have to say anything. vi works in sync with you now, been getting used to you since the night after the cabin, knows what you're up to like your shadow. turned into your guardian as she walks beside you when you storm away from the room and it's so nice, so nice to see you mad. wrong probably on so many levels, but the thought crosses her mind a time or two when she's following you close by, far still, at a fast pace when you cross the hallway infuriated.

"marriage," you spat to the air offended, and the knight's sure you're not talking to her cause you never do. barely look her way after the night you shared with her like it embarrasses you enough to act as if it never happened "can you even believe that, knight? my mother is dying and all they care about is if i'm marrying a noxian."

it must be the sixth or seventh time you're looking back at her after months, and vi's lungs seem to fill with a different kind of oxygen when your eyes travel through her face and you're aware of the details of it, the scar on her upper lip, the tattoo on her cheek. it lingers on her for seconds, seconds the knight uses like a plant uses the sun to survive, makes her forget what she's gonna say for a second.

"you don't have to marry anyone if you don't want to" her voice is rougher than before but wishes to ignore the real motive behind it: how can a simple act from you already have her spiraling to the gates of hell? how are you so fast to speak like a friend? — "it's a decision you can only make, my princess. the council's job is to follow your rules and do nothing but advice. you don't have to follow their suggestions if they aren't fitting."

you seem stuck in the wording, on how her mouth moves to say it: my princess. she'd said it before, but it has never affected you the way vi's able to see from where she's standing, so clearly as the sun shining on a summer day.

she asked for this. haunts her when vi's the one that pushed you away in the first place, the one that's so sure of your negative opinions on her, how you should hate her since she's the reason you're back and far away from your desired freedom moons ago. you're a spine on the palm of the hand, and itch she cannot scratch not at bare fingers, not so easy anyway.

you have a royal duty. violet owns you her entire life. the money her family was now enjoying and the good position she was granted with? it was thanks to you. in her chest still rests the medal she got for taking you back to where you belonged, hanging right against her heart as a constant reminder of her victory, of how she earned a trust she wished to keep like the greatest treasure she owned.

"you're right," it's a warm feeling the one that spreads in her chest at your response. "i don't have to marry nobody, i will be the regent queen."

"you will, my princess," she continues still, arm's-length distance, almost refusing to look at you like she wanted to — "the kingdom does not follow the council's words but your own."

and vi have to repeat it to herself once again when the sun hits your face for a moment and your complex green gown gives her enough access to look at your cleavage, squished tits under a corset that only strangled you: she asked for this.

"what we did. it cannot happen again, my lady."

everyday it's the same from now on, sometimes a knight can be blatantly stupid, she knows all about it.

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zuzu-tries-to-write · 2 days ago

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I read the beauty and beast fic absolutely adorable i was wondering if you did Sleeping beauty thats my personal favorite the modern twist is really cute idea to

I was thinking reader got hit with a sleeping quirk during a internship and nobody knows what to do but Bakugou secretly a romantic figures it out you can write whatever you feel

Thought it was something fun

Aww I absolutely loved writing this it was such a cute idea too well here it is…

“Only you can wake me up”

The mission was supposed to be routine. A villain with a tricky Quirk. An easy takedown.

Until it wasn’t.

Until the villain touched you.

And your body hit the ground like a dropped marionette.

⸻

“It’s a sleeping Quirk,” Recovery Girl said, her brows furrowed in concern. “But we don’t know the trigger to wake them. Could be emotional. Could be a time-based reset. Could be… something else.”

You were completely still. Not hurt. Just… frozen.

Breathing soft. Lips parted. Dreaming.

“Like a fairy tale,” Kaminari had said in a weak attempt at humor. “You know… Sleeping Beauty stuff.”

⸻

Bakugo didn’t laugh.

Didn’t speak much, either.

Just stood there, fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight, staring at you like he was watching the world crack beneath his boots.

You were the only person who ever challenged him without screaming.

Who smiled when he snapped.

Who called him Katsuki with soft eyes like the word wasn’t dangerous.

Who never flinched when he was angry, only tilted your head and asked if he was okay.

And now—you were the one who wouldn’t talk.

Wouldn’t open your eyes.

Wouldn’t smile at him anymore.

⸻

They moved you to a dorm room. Safer. Quieter.

The others came and went, worried, leaving little trinkets or food or cards. But Bakugo? He stayed the longest. When no one was watching.

Sat on the edge of the bed, arms folded, trying not to look like he was breaking.

“You dumbass,” he muttered, voice thick. “Can’t believe you went down like that.”

You didn’t respond.

He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to… fix you.”

His voice cracked.

“I keep thinking you’re gonna open your eyes and call me an asshole.”

Silence.

He swallowed. His next words were barely a whisper.

“I miss you.”

He reached over, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face.

“You’re so damn annoying. Always laughing. Always looking at me like I’m more than I am.”

His hand lingered near your cheek. “But you’re mine to be annoyed by.”

He leaned closer.

“You hear me?” he whispered. “You’re mine.”

Then—

Without thinking, without breathing—

He kissed you.

A soft, trembling kiss. Nothing like the explosive boy everyone else knew.

Just lips against yours.

And for a heartbeat—everything was still.

Then—

You exhaled.

His eyes flew open as yours blinked back to life.

Your voice was hoarse, dazed. “…Katsuki?”

He was frozen.

You blinked at him. “Did you just kiss me?”

“I—” He stood up so fast he nearly tripped. “NO. I mean. Shut up. You were unconscious and—!”

You reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Wait. Don’t go.”

You smiled, warm and teasing. “You totally kissed me.”

His face turned redder than his gauntlets. “You’re still delusional from the Quirk.”

You laughed—your real laugh—and his knees almost buckled.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

He looked away, jaw clenched. “Yeah, whatever.”

You tugged on his sleeve. “Katsuki?”

“What?”

“You’re a good prince.”

He scowled. “Tch. I’m no prince.”

You tilted your head. “No? Then what are you?”

He leaned down, eyes dark and voice low. “I’m the dragon that burned down your castle and kissed you anyway.”

Your heart stuttered.

And then, in true Katsuki fashion—

“Don’t make me say it again.”

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angelicsoulic · 2 days ago

Text

— 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ skin amaretto ⊹ megan skiendiel

⊹ ࣪ ˖ synopsis during your first flamenco dance class, you feel a beautiful girl’s eyes on you the whole time, a game of looks and a shared dance takes place between you two, and maybe more…

⊹ ࣪ ˖ disclaimer megan skiendiel x fem! dancer! reader, absolutely fluff, flirty

⊹ ࣪ ˖ song playing gabriela - katseye (got slightly inspired by it)

the moment you stepped into the flamenco studio, you felt like you’d stepped into another world

the room smelled like wood polish and sweat, the floor shone under the dim lights, and the rhythmic claps of the teacher echoed like a heartbeat

you were nervous, obviously. you had no idea how to dance flamenco. but you had always wanted to. something about the power of it, the control, the fire in each step. so you signed up. and now here you were — in a long red dress, the hem just grazing your ankles, feeling very much like you didn’t belong

that’s when you felt it :

eyes

someone was watching me

you turned casually — too casually, probably — and spotted her leaning against the mirror-lined wall. her dress was also red, but deeper, almost wine-coloured, and it clung to her like it was made for her. long dark and pink hair was pinned loosely, curls falling around her face like she didn't even try, but they landed perfectly anyway

her eyes met yours

and you swear, you forgot what feet were

she didn't look away, she smirked

so you did the only thing your overwhelmed brain could do : you looked away, then looked back. a little game

she caught on immediately. a glance. a turn. a look over the shoulder. it was stupid, playful, almost childish. but it made your heart race like you were in the middle of a ballroom, not an adult dance class

suddenly, the teacher clapped her hands. “¡oye! you’ll be dancing in pairs tonight! flamenco is about connection — mirar a tu pareja, sentirla. feel your partner”

people shuffled around, unsure who to choose. you didn’t move and neither did the girl

then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, she stepped towards you. her heels made sharp clicks against the floor. she stopped in front of you and tilted her head just slightly

“dance with me?” she asked, her voice low and soft, but certain

you nodded. “yeah, definitely, yes”

you faced each other. you could feel the heat coming off her skin when you two moved. her hand grazed yours just long enough to make you wonder if it was on purpose. her eyes never left yours for long. you forgot we were supposed to be learning

“is this your first class?” she asked between steps, spinning elegantly and coming back to you like gravity

“yeah,” you said, trying to keep up. “is it obvious?”

she smiled. “only in the cute way”

you laughed, nearly missed the next beat

“what about you?” you asked

she shrugged. “second, but i practiced a lot. you’re doing fine”

“liar”

“maybe” her eyes glinted, playful again. “but only a little”

you two danced through the class like that — in sync, off beat, laughing quietly, flirting without saying too much. the teacher gave you a few looks, but you think she knew better than to interrupt whatever it was you were starting

when the final music ended, you were breathless, and not just from the dancing. people began grabbing their bags, saying their goodbyes, heading out into the night

you were still catching your breath when she touched your arm

“i’m Megan, by the way” she said

you blinked, stupidly. “right. i’m—uh, sorry—yeah, i’m Y/N”

“Y/N,” she repeated. “that fits”

you tilted your head. “does it?”

she stepped closer, that same half-smirk playing on her lips. “you going to let me leave here wondering if i’ll ever see you again, Y/N?”

you smiled back, pulse still in flamenco rhythm. “not if you ask for my number”

“i was hoping you'd say that”

and then goes shared numbers, shared laughs too, before you and megan leave the flamenco room and make your way outside, you both share a last goodbye, before you could hear from her, in a soft voice

“see you next time, sweetheart”

it was simple, yet enough for your heart to beat faster…

#kpop fanfic #katseye #megan skiendiel #megan skiendiel x fem reader #kpop gg #wlw post #kpop

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casadecopia · 2 days ago

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Omg so like 10 to 15 years ago Iknew this guy who had the fucking sexiest roommate ever ok like this dude was tall, he was thicc, he was big and handsome with dark hair and tattoos. He looked like someone who had been fit in like high school or college and done football or sports of some kind and ended up work at a restaurant or bar and had just gained weight from eating extra meals and slinging drinks behind the bar all shift— like idk how to explain it like he had this muscular stature but everywhere he was supposed to all hard and sharp and boney angles he was just soft and slightly curved and smrjtkdjdlejhf he was like Hopper in Stranger Things before he ended up in the Russian prison camp— so hott

anyway so i eventually hooked up with him and just the fucking weight of him ontop of me heavy in a way that was sooo good and his belly was bumping me omg getting in the way bc I remember we were on a single sized mattress so both of us on their didn’t really fit and he was just so thic and man sized and bigger than me and it was so fucking good like some of the best sex I’d had back then.

We only hooked up the one time and then he moved or something I can’t remember and then like 5 yrs later I saw a pic of him on instagram in a tank top and shorts with someone in a like gym selfie or something— and than man lost like goddam 30 to 50 pounds (I mean he didn’t look bad, he looked healthy, he looked normal) but let me tell you I have never been so suddenly and so instantaneously turned off by someone who used to have mad sex appeal.

Like I was horrified— I was like “I’ve never seen that man in my life nor let alone laid biblically beside that… that mutilated clone of a skinny strip of nothing— where is my bouncer?!” (He was a bouncer for a club or some shit at some point which honestly was a fucking good hire with the bod he’d had at the time) personally offended

anyway my point is that to this day I STILL CCANT GET OVER IT and I feel icky inside when I think of it bc mfer 🤬😅🥲 had been so fucking gorgeous like I could have pet him all day, he was a life size plushie and he JUST THREW IT ALL AWAY I guess by starving himself or working out WHICH IS SO NOT HOT

I tend to stay off social media for the most part now but I think last time I saw a photo of him he looked like he gained some weight back but not all of it and sometimes i still wonder every once in a while if he’s got that hot premature dad bod back

Does anyone fuck with (or would you fuck) chubby/fat tboys or am I being lied to

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littlelamy · 2 days ago

Note

I GOT ONE I GOT ONE okay

chichi throwing a bit of a tantrum when rafe says no to something she wanted (or had planned) to do so he gets........ stern 😜

you had every single thing planned for two weeks exactly. a cute little outfit picked out and steamed, even four different facial, lash, and nail appointments booked. it was supposed to be a girls' night with drinks that came with tiny umbrellas and a theme—barbie dreams—courtesy of you.

but at that moment—your heels by the door, nails freshly done in bubblegum pink, and hair curled just right—the fucker said no. no like it was nothing. no like he didn’t just ruined your entire mood for the night.

“what do you mean no?” you’d gasped, spinning on him in the doorway of the bedroom.

he didn’t even look up from where he was tying his shoes. “i said no.”

you stood there with your mouth open, hands planted on your hips. “but i told you! i told you it was planned and that the girls wanted to go and that we were all wearing matching skirts!”

he finally looked up then, brows lifting as his gaze dragged down your body. “yeah..you also said that place has a line around the block of drunk assholes, and you’d be in heels you can’t run in, with girls who lose their phones every time they get tipsy.”

“so? we’ll be fine.”

“you’re not going.”

your mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. a tiny sound of protest escaped your throat—somewhere between a whine and a gasp. “you’re being mean,” you said, stomping one foot for emphasis.

he stood up towering, looking way too calm while you felt like a soda bottle about to shake open. “i’m being careful.”

“you’re being controlling.”

he arched a brow, “you say that like it’s a new development.”

you gasped, offended. “rafe!”

he walked toward you, and you backed up a step, fussy thoughts filling your mind. you crossed your arms under your chest, stuck your chin out. “i’m going anyway.”

“you’re not.”

you stared him down, and he while just smiled. the way he always did when you were one tantrum away from getting what you really wanted. “what’re you gonna do if i leave?” you asked, voice higher now. his smile instantly dropped.

“i’ll take you over my knee and remind you what happens when you act like a fucking brat,” he said, voice so calm it made your thighs clench, trying to stop the arousal from leaking out of you.

finally ready to make a move, you turn and try to bolt, but he caught you around the waist before you even hit the hallway, dragging you back with a loud, obscene grunt. “no! rafe! let go!”

“you really wanna throw a tantrum in this top?” he asked, spinning you around and hauling you toward the bed. “all these little bows and sparkles and you acting like a spoiled fuckin’ doll.”

“i am a doll!”

“a bratty one,” he muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed and yanking you across his lap in one swift motion. “and what do we do with brats?”

your legs kicked behind you. “this is not how adults solve things, rafe!”

he smacked your ass harshly making you yelp. “oh my gosh—!”

“quiet,” he said, adjusting your skirt up over your hips. “you wanted to act out, now take the consequence.”

you buried your face in your arms, breath catching. your panties were sheer and pink with tiny hearts, and he hummed the exact moment he saw them. “mmm matching set,” he murmured. “so you did plan this.”

you whined into your elbow. “i didn’t plan for this.”

he rubbed a hand over your ass, firmly, then spanked you again, the sound echoing in the room. “rafe…”

“what, baby?” he asked, dragging a finger along the curve of your thigh. “you wanna be a good girl now?”

“you didn’t even ask if you could spank me!”

he laughed. “you didn’t ask if you could stomp around like a tantrum-throwing princess.”

“i am a princess.”

he smacked you again, lower this time, and your legs twitched at the sensation. “yes,” he said. “you are! m. i. n. e. and mine doesn’t storm off into a packed club without me.”

“you’re so dramatic,” you mumbled.

“you’re the one kicking your feet on my lap.”

“well if you weren’t being such a meanie—”

another smack, followed by a squeeze, and then his voice in your ear. “you still wanna go out?” you wiggled your hips, heat blooming between your legs.

“…no.”

“good girl.”

you huffed. “you’re gonna have to make it up to me.”

he flipped you onto your back, his hands bracketing your thighs. “oh, i’m gonna ruin you.” you smiled up at him, pulling your skirt up skirt, showing your damp panties. “deal.”

❤︎‬ tags below

taglist𑄽𑄺: @rafesbabygirlx @namelesslosers @drewsephrry @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafedaddy01 @rafesangelita @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @@ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @lil-sparklqueen @rafessweetgirl @esquivelbianca @p45510n4f4shi0n @palomavz @cokewithcameron @donaldsonsgirl @yncoded @lilbunnysfics @solaceluna @icaqttt @alphabetically-deranged @wintercrows @st8rkey @nemesyaaa @sturns-mermaid @drewswife

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buckets4womenofthew · 2 days ago

Text

Treading Water - Chapter 1

Paige x Azzi

Warnings: mature content, language

Dual POV - 10.3K words

A/N: Here's chapter 1...can't believe it is so long. I started this and now have over 50 pages worth of story, so I am excited to see where it goes. For more information check out the a/n in the prologue. But just wanted to clarify that this story starts at the beginning of their final year at UConn. Would love love to know what you think.

Chapter 1 - Some Girls Have All The Luck

Paige is fearless.

Azzi is focused.

Paige is impulsive, sometimes to a fault.

Azzi is controlled, sometimes to a fault.

Paige has many vices. She enjoys unhealthy foods and nights spent in front of a TV playing video games. She may have picked up a cigarette once. Okay, maybe a couple of times, but she isn’t ready to call it a vice.

Azzi is disciplined. She balances her meals, schedules in protein shakes, and never skips a leg day. But it is not obsessive. Okay maybe sometimes it is, but her jumper never misses.

Paige controls her reactions.

Azzi wears her emotions on her sleeves.

Paige is inviting.

Azzi is warm.

Paige believes in God.

Azzi knows what it’s like to pray.

They both always want the last word.

Azzi thinks she might be in love and that thought alone makes her feel sick.

Paige knows she is in love and decidedly despises it.

They are best friends first. Something else second. Maybe. If they figure it out in time.

While this story may involve a lot of people and may take you to unexpected places, it is first and finally a love story. A story about two people who could not avoid each other’s orbit despite all best efforts. Sometimes two people are designed for each other—like maybe their souls had been accidentally separated by some divine intervention and now they were destined to find their other half.

Regardless, the story has a beginning.

Paige thought it clearly began on Monday, August 26, 2024, sometime around 1:00 AM on a roof that no one should have known existed.

Azzi speculated that it actually started on Sunday, August 25, 2024, outside of the University of Connecticut’s athletic facility with a boy they could barely remember.

Whether Paige or Azzi is actually correct is not a matter for us to discern. But Azzi is typically right. And Paige would later concede that starting here made sense for the purpose of telling their story. So, we will start our story with their first day of practice of their last season together at 7:30 AM. Azzi stood outside their gym, looked up, and kissed her boyfriend.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

August 25, 2024

Azzi’s POV

Jacob Biller’s lips were warm against hers. He was soft, cautious, and unassuming. His arms were loosely around Azzi’s hips and clasped together behind her, he didn’t grab at her or try to force his hands lower. He moved slowly, taking all his cues from her. Her backfoot didn’t pop up and there were no deep flutters in her stomach, but the kiss felt nice. And nice was nice. If her younger self was watching her now, she would be pleased with the gentleness. She always wanted a bit of romance, and if you squinted hard at the scene in front of you, Azzi mused that it could be romantic.

But that hole in her stomach, the one that had found its place in her lower gut since last April? It didn’t seem to want to sew itself back together. And no matter how nice or almost romantic this kiss felt, the hole remained.

Azzi silently kicked herself for letting her mind wander when she was supposed to be focused on kissing her boyfriend. Good lord…Her lips parted slightly, and Jacob took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. It was nice, really nice. But not quite enough to drag her out of her own thoughts. She sighed against his mouth.

When they broke apart, Azzi looked up and squinted against the sun rising behind him. He gave her a flashy smile, his front tooth was slightly crooked, but it made him endearing. That crooked grin was decidedly his best feature. Jacob’s brown hair was smooth and uncomplicated, his brown eyes tender. His facial hair grew in evenly and just barely shadowed his face. He was handsome in an inoffensive way.

Azzi Fudd had spent the second half of her summer back in Storrs, Connecticut where she had met Jacob who had just finished his baseball season. Both being college athletes, he understood her schedule and never had demanded her time more than she was able to give. However, Storrs had been quiet over the summer, so she inevitably had spent pretty much every day of the last month and a half with Jacob. He was quiet company.

It was an easy relationship. Well sort of if you didn’t count the first time they met. But after that incredibly awkward encounter that involved Azzi sobbing into his sleeves, it was easy (more on that later).

He took her to a diner and bought her a strawberry milkshake. He brought coffee to her dorm in the morning after she had finished a hard work out. He bought takeout from the Chinese restaurant even after she learned he didn’t like Chinese food. She taught him to use chopsticks and laughed when a piece of orange chicken he was trying to balance fell into the egg drop soup and splashed onto the carpet of her dorm room. He had an easy-going presence, and he didn’t ask her too many questions.

The company meant more to Azzi than she wanted to admit. It was nice to have someone’s attention fully focused on her. And when he touched her, it didn’t feel like he was already leaving.

Two weeks after they first met, they were sitting on the couch of her dorm room, a half-eaten box of lo mein forgotten between them. Azzi was reading a book about Greek mythology, and he was scrolling on his phone. Jacob cleared his throat quietly and Azzi glanced up.

“I’ve really enjoyed these past few weeks, and I don’t want to be seeing anyone else. Would you want to make this official?”

Azzi truthfully hadn’t expected it, but she appreciated his directness, his honesty, and his quiet steadiness. She didn’t particularly want to be in a relationship before the start of the basketball season, but she also had enjoyed being with Jacob—it felt refreshing. He had been patient with her.

“Sure.” Sure. Well it wasn’t the most committed she had ever sounded. But Jacob had smiled, maybe he hadn’t noticed.

He hummed in appreciation. “Cool.” And with that crooked grin he turned back to his phone and returned to scrolling.

This morning he had asked to walk her to the gym for her first official practice of the season. Azzi had wanted to say no when he asked, but she also didn’t really have a reason to. Maybe it was because she hadn’t told anyone on the team they were dating or because today, she wanted to focus on her first healthy and non-injury season back. Those reasons didn’t really feel valid, so here they were standing in front of the gym. She had just planned to give him a quick kiss goodbye, but he had deepened it and now they were standing in each other’s arms.

“I love you,” said Jacob.

Just like his kiss and his asking her to be her girlfriend, this slipped out gently, unassumingly. Azzi felt her heartbeat start to race, and the sweat trickle down from her hairline to her neck. Jacob had said he loved her. He loved her. And love was epic and uncontrollable. Azzi felt the pit grow in her stomach.

She certainly liked Jacob a lot; she liked kissing him; she liked sharing meals with him. But love? She wasn’t even sure if she knew exactly what it was supposed to feel like, but she didn’t think it would be this simple or this unassuming. She took a step back; Jacob’s arms unclasped and fell to his side.

When Azzi was younger, she had imagined an epic love. She watched stupid romantic comedies and cheered when the couple finally got together in the end. She saw herself running through the rain into someone’s arms at the perfect moment to finally utter an unrehearsed, yet flawless confession. She imagined it would feel like her insides were on fire, she thought it would make her feel alive.

The only time she had ever felt anything remotely like that was when she had a basketball in her hands. And that alone made her feel stupid about wanting a fairytale love story. She already had her epic love story—it was the story of how two torn ACLs could not keep her away, how she continued to come back to her first love. She was an elite basketball player—that was the love story.

But then she thought about her parents. How after twenty years, her mom’s eyes always found her dad first in any room. How her dad always thought her mom was the most beautiful person in the room, how she still left him breathless. That, at the end of the day, it was always each other’s companionship they wanted, even over their own children. And sure, Azzi had a few flings in high school and in college, but any time the other half started trending towards this path, Azzi backed up. Azzi was always diving headfirst looking for that moment, but no one seemed to meet her.

She took a deep breath to steady herself. “I can’t say that back Jacob,” Azzi said. “At least not yet, it just feels kind of soon and–”

“AZZI,” someone shouted from behind. Azzi’s head whipped to the side to see Caroline skipping out of the gym towards her, gym bag hanging off her shoulder. “You coming to practice or are you busy?” She looked at Jacob. She stopped a few feet from them.

Jacob smiled easily at her, “Hey I am Jacob.” He extended his hand towards her. Caroline loosely shook it and gave Azzi a pointed look.

“And I am Caroline.” She continued to look at Azzi. “Have you seen Paige?”

“No…”

“You certain?”

“Yes.” Azzi steeled her reaction. Neutral. It was normal for Caroline to be asking her about Paige. Paige was her best friend, even if they hadn’t spoken in almost two months. Even since that night.

The hole in Azzi’s stomach flared at the mention of Paige. The last time they had seen each other had been outside her dorm. Words had been used against each other like weapons, and then Azzi had walked away. But she had never expected it to have gone on so long, they were supposed to be best friends, they were supposed to have worked this out. But they hadn’t and now the silence had been so long, Azzi wondered if they could.

Caroline looked over at Jacob, “And what about you, Justin?”

“Jacob,” he corrected her gently, there was no bitterness in his tone, just easy.

“Right. Have you seen the illustrious, but currently missing starting guard?”

“Uhm…what?”

“Really?...Paige…Paige Bueckers…” Caroline sighed after each word. “Blonde, six feet, aura-farmer, life-ruiner, certified bucket? Oh, and obviously Azzi’s other half.”

Azzi’s body tensed, her breath caught. Suddenly the lines in the concrete sidewalk were fascinating. She didn’t dare look at Jacob.

“Oh, err…no I haven’t seen her, but you know I don’t know the team all that well.” Jacob responded. The words were light, but Azzi felt the air around her constrict. Him talking about her. She felt dizzy, the sounds around her started to get distant.

“Alright then. Must be off,” her eyes flashed towards Azzi. “Enjoy your morning and all,” and with a devilish grin she added, “Stay chaste.” Caroline winked.

“Caroline,” Azzi groaned as her eyes snapped back up. But the brunette was already heading back towards the gym.

And that should have been it, but right when she made it to the door, Caroline turned and shouted back, “Jake, come meet the team this morning!” And with that, she swung the gym doors open and disappeared back inside.

“I would love to meet the team.” He spoke softly as he glanced towards Azzi.

“Oh.” She shifted on her feet and looked towards the gym, and then to Jacob. “Uhm this isn’t the best time, and it is the first day of practice and we have some alumni coming to visit and–”

“No worries, Azzi. I am not stressed, another time.” Jacob smiled at her. He seemed unbothered. And then Azzi remembered. Shit. Jacob had told her that he loved her and then Caroline had interrupted.

“Oh, and about that other thing,” she nervously looked up at him. She brought her nail to her mouth just to bite the edge of her cuticle.

“I don’t need you to say it back right now, I just wanted to tell you how I feel.” Jacob smiled down at her.

“Jacob, listen, it’s not that I don’t care for you a great deal, it’s just that I have a specific notion of love, and I want to say it back when I unrestrainedly mean it.” Jacob nodded dejectedly. Azzi didn’t really want to give Jacob the real reason she couldn’t say those three words back…he wouldn’t understand. “And we’ve only been together for two months.”

“Nine weeks,” Jacob corrected.

Azzi frowned. “It seems shorter when you say it like that,” she pointed out. “Are you angry?” she asked.

Jacob shrugged easily, “No I am not angry, just thought you should know how I feel.” He smiled crookedly at her again and leaned down to kiss her gently on her cheek. “Plus, you said, ‘at least not yet,’ and I am patient guy.” He winked at her, it wasn’t smooth. “Have fun at practice, I’ll see you later tonight?”

“Yeah of course.” Azzi sighed and smiled back at him. Easy. Jacob was easy. But the pit in her stomach didn’t shrink. “Thank you for everything.” She leaned to hug him quickly before turning back to the gym.

Azzi felt rushed getting ready for practice, she hadn’t realized how long she had lingered outside with Jacob and his confession made her morning feel unsteady. After rushing into the athletic facility and to the locker room, she ripped open her bag and dug for her sneakers. No one was in the locker room still; they were probably all out on the court warming up or setting up the surprise for the alumni. In her haste she missed someone sliding onto the bench next to her.

“Wow, I didn’t know that a white boy named Josh could make you so flustered.”

Azzi’s head snapped up to see KK Arnold sitting next to her grinning devilishly. Azzi’s cheeks flushed. She threw her shoe at the girl, which KK easily dodged and laughed. “I didn’t see you come in. And his name is Jacob,” she exhaled.

“I am surprised you could see anything with that guy’s mouth eating your face like that,” KK laughed. She dodged Azzi’s other shoe easily and chuckled.

“Okay, okay settle no more throwing things at me!” KK stood up to leave and started towards the door to the gym. “Oh also, have you seen Paige yet?”

“No, I haven’t.” Azzi responded. Neutrally. Very calm and very unaffected.

“Hmm. Okay well hurry and don’t be late, we have that surprise soon.” KK turned and started walking away.

“I know,” Azzi muttered. There were fewer things more humbling in the current moment than having to walk across the locker room picking up her shoes after having thrown them. She sighed and refocused on getting ready: pull hair back, find practice jersey, tie sneakers, fill up water bottle, and don’t forget to breathe.

As she stood ready to head out to the gym, the locker room door swung open and two of her teammates walked in. Ice and Jana were both laughing about something that had started outside.

“Azzi! I missed you!” Jana rushed at her and grabbed her in a big hug. Azzi chuckled and leaned against the taller girl.

“Jana, I just saw you three days ago,” Azzi responded.

“I know, but apparently in that time you started kissing someone named Jack and forgot to tell us!” Jana giggled and Ice snorted behind her.

“I am going to kill Caroline for this, I just know she came in here and told you all.” Azzi sighed. This was not how she had planned on telling her team.

“Oh, come on Azzi, you can’t blame us for poking a bit,” Ice said. “It is so unlike you to bring a boy around and to be making out pre-practice. All before 8:00 AM!” Ice’s words were light, but Azzi winced slightly. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been with people, but she definitely hadn’t been so public before.

The girls walked over to the corner of the locker room towards a pile of balloons, posters, streamers, and flowers. “Azzi, help us carry some of this stuff out to the gym before Nika and Aaliyah get here, and then we can talk all about Jared,” Ice said.

Azzi walked over to grab the two bouquets and didn’t bother correcting her on Jacob’s name. They would not be getting a reaction out of her.

“Oh, and Azzi?” Jana looked up from the pile of streamers in her arms. “Have you seen Paige yet?”

“No, I haven’t, but you all also have her number so maybe you all can ask her yourself,” Azzi snapped and turned into the gym. She missed the looks Ice and Jana exchanged behind her retreating back.

Azzi took a deep breath and pushed the doors to the gym open. The smell of sweat, hardwood, and rubber greeted her. She looked up to the rafters where banners of championships hung and retired jerseys of hall of famers flew. The air was chilled, the humidity of outside didn’t follow them in here. Sounds from her laughing teammates echoed across the stands. A speaker played an R&B tune softly, but Azzi couldn’t quite make out the lyrics. Up in his office, Coach Geno stood by the windows looking down at the court exchanging words with Chris Dailey before practice. She sighed and felt a sense of relief wash over her. It was still the same.

She had been in the gym just last week, but this was the beginning of the season, and it was something new. This was her comeback season, and despite the fact that it defied reason, Azzi had been secretly afraid something here had changed. But the familiar energy floated in the air, the gym was still home.

Caroline was standing around a table off to the side of the court when she walked in. She noticed Azzi right away and bounced over to her. “Oh good, bring everything over here!” she instructed

Caroline reached for the bouquets in Azzi’s hand. “Glad you could make it to practice, Az. I didn’t know if you were going to be too busy with Jos…”

“Don’t. Carol just don’t.” Azzi sighed. She didn’t want to talk about this anymore. She felt tired and practice hadn’t even started.

Caroline grabbed the flowers and gave Azzi a look, but she conceded. “Okay, okay, but don’t blame me. I just figured that as one of your best friends I would have been told about a boy before you start sucking tongues in front of the gym.”

“Ew.”

“You’re the one who did it.”

Before Azzi could even respond, the door to the gym opened and one of the freshmen walked in cradling two cakes in her arms. Caroline ran over to help. “Allie, you didn’t have to get both at the same time!” She scolded the younger player gently before taking one of the cakes into her hands and walking over to place them on the table. Azzi looked down at them and felt a bittersweet sting behind her eyes. One cake for each visiting alumnus. In pretty cursive frosting, the cake said: “Congrats on the W Nika!” in green and yellow frosting. Storm colors. The other cake was addressed to Aaliyah with the Mystics’ red and blue. Azzi hated that she had missed playing in their senior year and hated even more how much she missed them both now.

It was by some miracle that both Nika and Aaliyah were able to get away from their schedules and come back to campus to see their old team. Azzi knew that they were here to film some promotional shoots for different brands, but it still mattered that she was going to be actually able to see them and hug them. The draft had been months ago, and there hadn’t been time for Azzi to go a game this past summer. Well, that wasn’t one hundred percent true, there had been time, but Azzi had been sheltering in place in Storrs. She had told herself it was because she needed to train harder than ever before. No distractions.

Once the team knew that Nika and Aaliyah were visiting, Caroline had taken it upon herself to plan a little surprise party before practice. It wasn’t much compared to brand parties, but it mattered in all the important ways. The ways the team showed up for each other, appreciated each other like family. It was little things like flowers and cakes and surprise parties for returning alumni that made the UConn’s chemistry on the court unstoppable. Unrelenting. Inevitable.

“Has anyone seen Bueckers?” Caroline hollered across the court at the rest of the team. Azzi looked down. She didn’t need to see to know everyone’s reactions. Every head turned towards her expectantly.

“Azzi, she’s back in town, rig–?” Aubrey Griffin asked lightly as she jogged towards them from halfcourt.

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen her.” Azzi felt a flash of irritation. Paige was not her responsibility.

Caroline had flinched back a little at Azzi’s tone. Azzi rarely snapped at anyone, and here she was having done it twice now. And both times about Paige.

“Well, she is supposed to be here, and I needed her to bring–” Caroline’s voice trailed off before finishing what she had asked Paige to bring for the surprise. Azzi’s eyes flickered down to her shoes. She concentrated on various marks in the hardwood floor begging her face to not betray her.

The continuous mention of Paige made her feel on edge. She should have reached out. It was the longest they had ever existed without messaging every day, and she hadn’t mean to let it drag on, but here she was with no answer on the older girl’s whereabouts. Shaking off the feeling, Azzi’s glanced back to the cakes and the flowers. Today was the first day of practice.

The team started gathering around the table to set up balloons and streamers when the door opened and Nika Mühl and Aaliyah Edwards strode in their new teams’ colors. They looked like stars. Almost too tall and too polished for their college court, but this gym remembered them.

“Oh my god you guys are early we didn’t even have time to set everything up,” Caroline squealed, but she ran to the girls and tackled them with big hugs. Azzi found herself running to the two older girls with the rest of the team. Aaliyah pulled her into a big hug and Nika squeezed her sides.

“Az, look at you with no knee brace,” Aaliyah affectionately cooed at her.

“Better stay that way this season too,” Nika added.

It felt warm having the girls back. The camera crews had yet to arrive, and their time felt protected. The team chatting together, hanging on to every word from Nika and Aaliyah’s stories from the first months in the league.

But Azzi couldn’t fully relax. She leaned in towards Aaliyah talking about training camp rituals, but she kept losing the story. Her mind fighting an internal war to stay focused on Aaliyah’s words like: rookies carry team towels and welcome to w moments, but then she’d glance up searching the faces of her teammates, never finding the one she was looking for.

They were missing someone, someone that infuriatingly completed them. And Azzi could not shake the feeling that she may be the reason for her absence. That feeling started to make her skin itch.

Across the way, Aubrey shoved Aaliyah’s face into a piece of her cake which inevitably led to frosting to be flung over the table. Azzi laughed along with the rest of the team, but she felt separate. An edge to the whole day brewing under her surface.

Nika, who had been speaking quietly to Caroline, casually turned and stepped towards Azzi. Azzi should have braced herself, she should have seen how they had been whispering back and forth, and she should have known. But instead Nika casually unraveled her when she asked:

“So, I was supposed to have a shooting contest today with Paige.” Nika started. “You wouldn’t happen to know–”

Azzi shot Caroline a look before cutting Nika off. “No, I haven’t seen her.” She huffed and turned around to walk onto the court. Azzi felt like a petulant child, but the irritation and imbalance she had felt all morning finally had bubbled to the surface. Her skin was buzzing.

“Geez,” Nika muttered behind her.

“Oh, don’t worry about her, she is just frustrated because she has a new boy toy named Jason and we’ve all been teasing her since she failed to mention him before we all watched them practically eat each other’s face off this morning.” Caroline retorted.

At that Azzi whipped around, her face flushing with embarrassment. And she was frankly pissed off. Pissed at everyone on the team for asking about Paige and getting his name wrong. And at Nika and Caroline for knowing exactly how to push. “His name is Jacob.” Azzi snapped. The rest of the team quieted and turned to stare.

“And he isn’t some boy, I am actually dating him, and he said he loved me, and can you all just drop it please? Or is it really so surprising that I have found someone who actually likes me?”

Azzi winced internally. She hadn’t meant to yell, and she definitely didn’t mean to say that. She could see the confusion in her teammates faces before she turned around and faced the back of the court. She took deep breaths to calm herself down. This wasn’t like her, and she never lost her temper at the team. For God’s sake this was the first practice of the season, and she had no idea what had gotten into her. She huffed out of frustration, but mostly at herself. This whole thing had been stupid and today was supposed to be a celebration, the new beginning.

There was some movement behind her, but she didn’t turn. She couldn’t face the team yet.

And just then could she hear the swoosh through the air. And Azzi, as someone who had spent her life on courts just like this one, knew that a basketball had just been thrown. She sensed its direction heading towards her. For a fleeting instance she wondered if someone threw a ball at her back in retaliation for her outburst. She didn’t dare turn yet.

In the next second the ball flew over her head, arced above her and dropped carelessly into the net she was staring at. The sound of the net snapping echoed in the gym. The ball bounced loudly against the floor a couple of times before rolling off to the side.

And Azzi? Well, she knew before she turned around.

But she turned anyways, and there almost at the opposite end of the court stood Paige Bueckers like she hadn’t just made a shot from behind the logo. Casually. Wickedly. And decidedly unbothered.

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Paige’s POV

Pieces of Paige’s blond hair refused to be pulled back into her bun today. Much like Paige herself, her hair did not seem to be willing to cooperate. But that is what happens when you decide to casually go for a five-mile sprint in August in Connecticut.

Paige hadn’t mean to run so hard before practice. She had planned to ease into the first day, meet the new teammates, crack a few jokes with Geno, practice hard. It had started simple.

She spent most of the beginning of August 25, 2024, not thinking about Azzi Fudd, by which I mean that she spent most of the beginning of August 25, 2024, determined to be not thinking about Azzi Fudd.

Paige had opted to walk over to practice early today, and during that fifteen-minute walk she actually didn’tthink about Azzi.

She thought about helping Caroline set up the surprise for the visiting alumni. Plus, she had the gifts for Nika and Aaliyah in her locker, their old UConn jerseys that everyone had signed, and Caroline was insistent that they were wrapped and, on the table, before the girls showed up. She even sent Nika a text about a shooting contest later to finally determine who was the best shooter at UConn (but both Paige and Nika knew it was actually neither of them, but Paige was not thinking about her).

No matter when it happened, Paige knew that seeing Azzi for the first time since that night would leave her breathless. Paige had spent the last two months avoiding her. In one sense it was simple, Paige had been traveling all summer—her world tour—and Azzi had chosen to stay in Connecticut to train. In the midst of media appearances and contract obligations, Paige had been busy enough to avoid any run-ins. However, when it came to online confrontations, Paige had to be a bit more intentional. She avoided UConn Women’s Basketball Instagram stories, and Snapchat stories of teammates she knew had stayed behind.

And not seeing her had helped. Sort of. It allowed Paige to clear her head, to separate what they were and what they definitely were not.

It allowed Paige to make a promise to herself: to move on.

But then, she arrived at the practice facility. Azzi stood across the street, her face turned upwards into the sun, looking positively devastating. Like desire and a nightmare wrapped perfectly in a package designed for Paige.

And Paige couldn’t breathe.

Like most times Paige looked at Azzi, the rest of the world faded to the background. Nothing else could register because Paige’s gaze had been devised with only Azzi in mind, to have a focus so homed in that anything else was deemed unnecessary. Which is why at first, Paige only saw Azzi with her curls loose, her posture relaxed, her smile easy. And so, she missed him at first; missed how he pulled her towards him, how his arms circled around her, how he leaned over her. But then he got too close, too close for her to ignore. Paige froze. Every cell and nerve in brain misfiring telling her to run, run away, run towards them.

He kissed her. And the worst part, the part that finally pushed Paige into a flight response? She kissed him back with no hesitation, no fear. As though she had given him permission to be there in her space, to hold her, to kiss her.

Paige started to run. Surprise parties, gifts, and practice forgotten behind her. She just turned and sprinted, like maybe she could outrun her brain before it processed anything.

Her feet pounded the pavement. The logical part of her brain recognized how utterly stupid this was, she hadn’t warmed up and now she was sprinting across campus running at full speed. But the faster she ran, the louder she breathed, until it was the only thing she could hear, the desperate inhales and exhales of her lungs trying to catch up.

Although it was only a few minutes past 7:30 AM, the humidity hung in the air like a weighted blanket. Sweat rolled down her face and into her eyes, temporarily blinding her. She did not let up. One foot in front of another. Maybe she would run until she collapsed.

But then just as carelessly as she started, she stopped in the middle of a cross walk. Her body doubled over heaving as she tried to slow her breaths. Her words from a few months earlier rang in her head: “If I come back, I want it to be 100 %. I want it to count.”

“Well, you know what it takes kid, but if you do this, you do it right. You take of yourself.”

Fuck. Geno’s words sat heavy in her mind. She was going to kill herself out here, or worse, injure something before she even got onto the court.

A car honked. She looked up, still in the middle of the road. With a deep breath, a promise to herself, and a completely different promise to her coach, she turned around.

When Paige arrived at the gym, she was late and contemplating the most casual way to slip in without anyone noticing. She wanted to fade into the scene. But then, Paige saw the little drama ensuing between Caroline and Azzi. She listened in and tried to ignore the clench in her stomach when she heard, “he said he loved me.”

Then, without thinking, without even considering any consequences, Paige did the most conspicuous, attention-grabbing thing she knew how. She picked up a basketball and flung it across the court.

Everyone in the gym turned their heads to stare at her.

Nika recovered first. She scooped the runaway basketball and tossed it in the air before catching it. She smirked and looked at Paige. “Finally ready to actually shoot?” She twisted the ball as she threw it, and next thing anyone knew she let it fly behind her back. The ball hit the backboard and gracefully dropped into the net.

Paige felt a surge for gratitude towards the Croatian girl. Because Paige really was an idiot.

It jumpstarted the rest of the team. The weird tension not forgotten, but behind them. The cakes on the table half eaten and abandoned, the girls started to move to grab basketballs and join Nika and Paige in their shootout. Although she was wrapped up in team hugs, celebrations, and meeting freshman and transfers, Paige kept an eye on Azzi and her reaction.

Azzi slipped into the transition of the crowd with her head down avoiding any eye contact. She stretched her hand out and lightly grabbed onto Caroline’s arm. They pulled themselves maddeningly out of earshot and exchanged tense looks. Azzi spoke quickly, but her eyes softened on the edges. Caroline squinted tightly, but she had no resolve—her posture relaxed into whatever Azzi whispered. The girls embraced; all forgiven. But then Caroline shifted and searched, her eyes met Paige and burned with unspoken intensity. Paige looked away.

Paige wished she knew what had been said. She longed for the easy existence with Azzi and her quick forgiveness. But instead, she shook her head and caught Aubrey’s quick pass.

It was not long before Geno walked onto the court and called the girls over. He didn’t stretch out any introductions but just refocused the team and reminded them why they were here. Paige’s skin buzzed with anticipation—this was it.

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Practice was hard. Paige didn’t try to hide her exhaustion. Her limbs felt fatigued from her travel, from her pre-practice sprint, and from the stupid shootout with Nika. And yet, she lingered on the court with the ball. Nika and Aaliyah had left to film a promotional video with Coach. She had promised to see them later and to actually catch up. The rest of the team had filtered slowly off the court and towards the lockers.

Paige had watched Azzi’s retreating figure. They hadn’t spoken, and it had affected them on the court. It would be naïve to deny it. Every pass fell short. Every assisted shot set them up for failure. Coach had lectured on communication. But Paige was certain that communication on the court had little to do with their issues when Azzi refused to look at her in the eye.

That thought alone drove Paige towards the locker room, drove her to a hopeful resolution. Azzi sat on the bench head in her hands, practice jersey still on. Most of their teammates had moved out to the showers or to home. But Azzi remained silent in her own atonement.

Paige closed the distance between them before she could talk herself out of it.

“Hey.”

Azzi looked up and looked tired. “Paige,” she responded. There was no lightness in her voice.

And Paige should really learn to shut up.

“Still favoring your left leg?” She immediately regretted it.

Azzi’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I’m surprised you even noticed,” she spat back.

“I was just checking in, making sure you were seeing the trainer.” Paige stuttered.

“I know how to handle myself, Paige,” Azzi bit back.

Paige instinctively put her hands up and took a step back. “Hey woah sorry for trying to care about the welfare of our team.”

“Oh, is that was this is?”

“Obviously, what else would it be?” Paige countered.

“Probably to stroke your own ego.” Azzi stood to meet her, her chest heaving. Paige tried not to think about the last time they had seen each other, the last time they had been this close.

The memory flashed before her before she could exhale: Paige’s arms around her waist, Azzi’s breath teasing her neck. The words hung in the air between them: “I want you.”

Paige shook her head, broke the memory. “Is this about the shot I made earlier? You know I only did that because Nika and I had a shootout planned.” She paused, “anyways looks like you could have used some to take some of that heat off of you.” Yeah. Paige really needed to learn to shut up.

“God Paige, two months of not talking at all and this is what you go with?” Azzi’s voice climbed louder. “No, I didn’t need you to do anything, but you did what you always do. You made it about yourself.” Azzi had taken a step closer. They were both breathing loudly, the air felt tight, like the oxygen was seeping out.

They both stood there for a moment staring each other down. Angry and hurting. Paige’s hand twitched at her side, and for a fleeting moment, she wanted to reach out and grab the younger girl.

Azzi’s phone buzzed on the bench. They both turned to look at the screen.

Jacob Biller

Azzi silently grabbed for her phone, packed up her remaining things and left the locker room without looking back once at Paige. And Paige’s arm had stayed locked to her side.

“Good to see you too!” Paige shouted at Azzi’s retreating back. The younger girl flinched, but didn’t turn around and didn’t stop walking. Damn her need to always want the last word.

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Azzi’s POV

It had been stupid. She had overreacted. But Azzi did not know how to control her emotions when it came to Paige. Because Paige set everything on fire. With Paige, it was never half of anything, Azzi reacted to her fully, completely.

She slammed the door into her dorm causing Caroline and Ice to jump. They were sitting on their couch, scrolling their phones, too exhausted to move from practice.

“Woah, what happened to you?” Ice asked.

Azzi ignored them. She wanted to curl in her bed and waste the rest of the day away.

“One guess,” Caroline answered for her. “Paige.”

Azzi exhaled sharply. But instead of answering, she walked into the bathroom silently hoping that a long shower would be enough to wash away her morning. And if she was lucky, the girls out in her living room would get up and leave her alone.

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“He said I love you?” echoed Ice disbelievingly. After Azzi’s shower she had returned to the living room with subpar excuses about how her and Paige had argued like siblings, but they’d be fine. It didn’t sound convincing to her own ears. Caroline and Ice didn’t believe her, but for some miracle, they had left it alone. But now they were assaulting her with questions on her Jacob. Azzi had just finished relaying her awkward news from the morning.

“I’ve been dating Nick for more than a year, and he just said, ‘I love you,’” Caroline noted bitterly. “And I am pretty sure he said it to distract me from the fact he was liking Lexi Hidalgo’s Instagram pictures.”

“First of all,” said Ice, “Nick’s an ass, we all know that, and you know that.” Caroline started to protest, but Ice just continued. “Second, you didn’t say it back, did you?”

“Of course she didn’t,” snapped Caroline. “You wouldn’t lie about that Azzi…right?”

“No, of course not,” sighed Azzi. “I just told him I couldn’t say it back until I really meant it.”

“And he didn’t break up with you on the spot?” marveled Caroline.

“Who didn’t break up with who,” asked a new voice coming into the dorm common living area. A tall brunette with frizzy hair joined Caroline on the couch. The older girl slung her arm over the new arrival’s shoulders.

“Hi, Ashlynn,” said Azzi, “they were just talking about…”

“About how Jacob Biller is an idiot and told Azzi ‘I love you.’”

“After how long of dating?” asked Ashlynn.

“Two months.” Azzi winced slightly at some of the arched eyebrows.

“He said I love you after a summer fling,” asked Ashlynn incredulously. “That’s so funny. You didn’t lie and say it back, did you?”

“She told him she wasn’t ready,” said Ice.

“And he didn’t break up with you?”

“No,” Caroline told her. “In fact, he seemed totally happy to be just near her.”

“Wow, some girls have all the luck.” Ashlynn added. And Caroline hummed in agreement.

Azzi rolled her eyes and stood up from the floor. “Okay let’s let that be, he’s just emotionally mature.” She stretched her arms overhead.

“So, are we all heading over to hang with Nika and Aaliyah?” asked Ashlynn, and Azzi was grateful for the change in conversation. But the relief only lasted momentarily.

“Yes! We’re doing a team night at Paige and Jana’s.” Ice got up excitedly. The girls started moving towards the door. Azzi’s phone buzzed from a new message. She sighed, saved by the bell, literally.

Jacob: how was practice? still planning on coming over later?

Shit. She had completely forgotten about her plans with Jacob.

“You coming, Az?”

Azzi looked up from her phone to see Caroline watching her. “Er…you know what y’all go. I told Jacob I was going to spend the afternoon and evening with him.”

Truthfully, Azzi didn’t want to see Jacob after this morning, but she also couldn’t exactly tell Caroline that she was skipping a team bonding night because she was afraid that she might yell at Paige. Again.

“Azzi, this is a team night with Nika and Aaliyah,” Caroline said pointedly. “This is their only night in town.”

The hole in Azzi’s stomach widened from a new guilt. She looked down at her feet. “I know,” she muttered lamely. “I just don’t think I can be there right now.”

Caroline softened immediately. “Az, do you want me to stay back with you?”

Azzi’s chest swelled. “No, no please go. And tell them that I swear I’ll be at breakfast with them tomorrow. I just, I don’t know…I don’t want tonight to turn into something…and I already made such a scene this morning.”

Caroline nodded, her expression unreadable. But she hugged Azzi and followed the rest of her team out.

Azzi slumped back onto the couch with her face in her hands. Without thinking about it too much she picked up her phone and sent one message before turning it off and heading to her room for a well-deserved nap.

Azzi: practice was brutal today, I think I just need to stay in and rest. catch you tomorrow?

Jacob: no prob az. rest up :)

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Later that night Azzi lay on her bed alone staring at the ceiling. The sounds from the open window drifted into her otherwise silent room. There were no people left outside, students had filed inside a long time ago for the final sleep before classes. But a wind had swept through campus, every blade of grass quivering, every leaf rustling. Azzi closed her eyes, breathing deeply, and sunk deeper into her pillows. She begged, wished, prayed for sleep…just four or five hours even.

Sighing, she turned to face her desk. The alarm clock mocked her. 12:27 AM. Fuck.

Without thought, she was up and getting dressed. There was really only one place that could heal this hole that had started consuming her slowly, deliberately, and unfadingly from the inside. But that was not an option. So, after tying her shoes and throwing a hoodie on, she started towards the only place she knew that could rid her of this restless energy.

Azzi pushed through the doors to the gym. In the darkness, the doors groaned louder against the frames. She stepped onto the court.

She shouldn’t have been surprised, not really. But still, she startled a bit when she saw someone laying in the middle of the court on their back, tossing a basketball casually in the air before catching it.

She wondered if she could slip back out before she noticed.

Paige sat up lazily at the noise and looked right at her. Of course.

Really, it was kind of a funny sight. Paige Bueckers sitting in the middle of a dark court twirling a basketball on her fingers. They just stared at each other.

With apparently no control over her body, Azzi found herself moving towards Paige. The gravitational pull of Paige Bueckers should be studied, she thought bitterly. Because here she was, still pissed, still confused, but walking towards her like Paige was the only goddamn source of gravity in the entire gym, hell maybe the entire world.

She stopped right at her, so she was looking down at her. The angle shifted something in Azzi, gave her a power that she so rarely felt around Paige.

And before she could even relish in this new feeling, her no-good-mind-of-its-own hand reached out for her.

Paige eyed her outstretch hand warily, but eventually clasped it, and Azzi pulled her up. They hadn’t said a word.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Azzi offered. God, she hated how small her voice sounded. Hadn’t she just been yelling at her only a few hours earlier? But the blaze in Paige’s eyes from the locker room had dimmed to something softer, and Azzi couldn’t make her words bite, even if she wanted to.

“You know…first day, new year sort of things,” Paige shrugged. The space between them seemed to get smaller. Azzi’s breath hiked.

Paige looked down at her, something flashed across her face before she took a step back. With a flick of her wrist, almost imperceptible, except to Azzi, she tossed the ball at her.

And that’s how it started. Paige and Azzi running up and down the court at 1:00 AM silently passing the ball back and forth. It was a simple drill: pass, dribble, pass, shoot, rebound, pass, repeat.

They didn’t speak, but they didn’t need to. It was a rhythm that they mastered years ago, one that they couldn’t find today in practice. Azzi sighed in relief that despite whatever was happening between them, they could still have this. Without looking, without even having all the lights on in the court, they could still find each other in this world.

She didn’t know how long they ran, but her legs began to protest, a not-so subtle reminder of the suicides Geno had them doing that morning. Azzi sat down, exhausted. The ball rolled carelessly out of her hands.

“Time for bed, Fudd?” Paige jogged over to where she had given up.

Azzi rolled her eyes. “I am saving myself for practice tomorrow…but no…I am not ready to sleep yet.” Her voice trailed off at the second omission. She wasn’t sure why it felt so intimate.

“Want to see something cool I found?” This time it was Paige who extended her hand to Azzi. Azzi grabbed it without hesitating.

She followed Paige through the athletic facility; she followed her long legs that carried her effortlessly up the stairs to the offices. Azzi could barely catch her breath, before Paige began winding through the back hallways. She stopped abruptly at a door labeled “Room 359: Training Equipment.”

“Paige…”

“Come on, we’re almost there,” she let out a breathy laugh.

Paige pushed open the door and immediately crossed the room. Azzi followed more slowly behind her, cautiously avoiding exercise balls and bands left on the ground.

“Over here,” Paige called out softly.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be here.”

“We weren’t also supposed to be at the court at 1 AM.”

Azzi didn’t have an answer for that.

Paige was standing by the window looking out, the moonlight flickered across her pale skin. She reached down and pushed a step-up box right under the window frame. Then she cranked open the window, and a warm breeze rushed into the room.

“Paige what are you doing?”

The older girl didn’t bother answering, just stepped up onto the box, and braced her arms on the frame. She stepped one leg through before glancing back at Azzi. She smiled once, before disappearing completely out the window.

It was the type of smile that she reserved for these quiet moments. Not the Paige Bueckers media smile, or the smile that meant she just sank a three. But the smile that followed inside jokes and whispers shared late at night in dorm rooms. And it was that smile that had Azzi scrambling up the box and at the window, blindly following.

She wasn’t scared of heights. Not really. But she also hadn’t expected the window to open to a foot wide ledge, three stories high.

“Paige,” Azzi hissed.

“Here grab my hand and step out on your left foot. It gets wider up here.” Paige’s hand popped out in front of her face. Azzi grabbed on and followed her lead.

The ledge to the window had led out to a slight slant in the roof that backed into another level of the roof. Azzi quickly backed up the wall, feeling more grounded when she had three points of contact.

“Scared of heights, now?” Paige sauntered over casually, unaffected. She sat down near Azzi’s feet.

“This is reckless, Paige.”

“Yeah well…sometimes it’s worth it to be a bit reckless.”

Azzi found herself sliding down the wall to sit next to her. They sat in silence. Not one that brought either of them any comfort. A silence laced with everything they had and hadn’t said. Azzi replayed their earlier interaction in her head. Still favoring your left leg? She bristled.

“Isn’t this cool?”

“What?” Azzi snapped, and Paige just raised her eyebrows at her.

“Sorry, I just…I don’t know, I was thinking,” Azzi offered. She turned towards the sky.

The campus stretched out below them. The academic buildings stood like ancient sentinels; all the windows darkened except for an odd glow—perhaps a late-night researcher chasing one last revelation. Down below, Fairfield Way remained a pale ribbon under the lamplight. It was among some of the most beautiful things that Azzi could imagine. She loved this view.

“How’d you even find this?”

“Last spring,” Paige paused. “Uhm…right before I left for the summer.”

“Oh.”

“I had come to the gym to just shoot, but I couldn’t get myself actually out there. So, I just wandered.”

“Wandered out of a window?”

Paige let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, well…”

Azzi turned to her now and watched Paige carefully, someone who silence with had never felt like a penance. Paige had tried; she was trying. Azzi realized with a twinge in her lower stomach; it was time for her to try too. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you earlier in the locker room.”

Paige turned to her now. “Well, I probably should learn to shut up.”

“What?” Azzi asked.

“Oh, I just shouldn’t have said anything about your leg.” Paige offered Azzi a half-smile. “Your jumper is clean. Still the best in the nation.”

Azzi scoffed, “well, I should go to the trainer. You were right.”

“I’m right. Wow Azzi Fudd how did those words taste?”

“Like vinegar.”

A soft, quiet laugh slipped between them. Tentative, almost shy. It didn’t ring out; it hovered gently in the air, uncertain but warm. A small offering placed carefully on the space between their wounded silences.

Maybe this could be healed, maybe they could fall back into who they were…

Paige reached into her pocket and removed a small white box. From the corner of her vision, Azzi watched as Paige flicked it open and thumbed out a cigarette.

“Paige. You smoke?” She couldn’t really mask the accusation in her tone.

“No.” Paige looked at the cigarette in between her fingers, twisted it twice, before placing it between her lips. “Well not really, just sometimes to take the edge off.” The unlit cigarette dangling out of her mouth blended her words at the edges, so they were not quite distinct. She looked up at Azzi.

Azzi’s stomach clenched. She felt sick and it wasn’t from the heights. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s new, only since this summer.” The silence that followed was heavy with the time spent apart doing other things, picking up new habits; it stretched out in front of them.

“Right.” Azzi looked away back out towards campus. And then since she couldn’t help herself, “They’re not good for you.”

Paige scoffed. “Yeah, I know Az. This is the last one before the season starts, I swear.” She sighed and repeated, “it’s just something to take the edge off.” Azzi risked a glance towards her again. Paige had turned away; she gazed up at the stars before taking out a lighter and flicking it on. The glow from the flame brought Paige’s face alive with shadows. Shapes danced across her face, and Azzi couldn’t look away from the way her blue eyes reflected the light—something darker brewing underneath the watery blue trying to break its way through the depths. And then the cigarette was lit and the lighter clicked off.

Azzi exhaled through her nose, she hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath. Paige sucked in and closed her eyes. She held the cigarette for a moment before she finally exhaled. Smoke swirled up towards the black sky.

Paige passed the cigarette to Azzi silently. She looked up in surprise, but Paige was still not looking at her. Without overthinking it, Azzi grabbed the cigarette out of her hand and brought it closer to her face.

Before she placed it in her mouth, she asked casually, “so, why do you smoke?”

Paige considered the question. “I like how it looks.”

“God, that is the stupidest reason.”

“Yeah, it is” Paige agreed. For a moment they were both silent, the lit cigarette still in Azzi’s fingers. Finally, Paige spoke again quietly. “I like that I am not supposed to do it. And there are not a lot of things that I get to do that I am not supposed to.” After a beat she continued, “but also, I like how the smoke disappears. There is something striking in that.”

Azzi’s gaze shifted down to the cigarette in between her fingers and finally brought it to her lips. She inhaled quickly feeling the burn of nicotine and tobacco at the back of her throat. After holding the bitterness in her mouth for a second, she exhaled. A pillar of smoke cascaded forth, twisting and swirling into the night sky before evaporating before their eyes.

“See?” said Paige.

Azzi’s eyes shifted back to Paige’s face. Paige was staring at her. “It is still a stupid reason, but I guess it’s interesting.” She handed the lit cigarette back and looked forward.

The silence continued as Paige took periodic drags. Eventually Paige laid back against the roof with her knees bent. She had closed her eyes, and Azzi took time to really look at Paige. She hadn’t really changed over the summer, but there were little things that Azzi noticed. She had gotten a haircut, nothing dramatic, but Azzi clocked the missing two inches. The darker circles under her eyes had cleared, the weight of the end of the season had melted under the summer heat. Her skin was more tanned, a hint of a healing sunburn on her shoulder.

But she was still so Paige. Unable to ever sit still. Her eyes closed, her head resting on her arm, leaning back on the roof, but her left foot kept tapping. No matter how relaxed she tried to be, she never could temper the constant movement.

“So—you’re dating someone.” Her tone was neutral, nonchalant. Paige’s voice jerked Azzi out of her reverie. She snapped her gaze from the tapping foot to her face. Paige’s eyes were open and staring right at her.

Azzi felt her skin prick. She took a deep breath. The hole in her stomach flared. “Yeah.”

It was embarrassing that she couldn’t offer anything else, but when she thought about Jacob, she couldn’t picture his face. Even after seeing him every day for the last two months, his features blurred in her brain, the edges of his face were fuzzy. Azzi wondered briefly if the cigarette had been laced with something stronger.

“When did that start?”

“This summer.”

“Right.”

The silence stretched out in front of them and Azzi wondered whether this would be their new normal—time and space splintering their once easy connection. She dreaded what it could mean. First for the team. Second for what it meant for her, losing the luxury of having someone know her better than herself—someone who could just look at her and know exactly what she needed. Azzi missed her friend. She missed how they had never let a silence like this happen before; she missed the naturalness of existing in each other’s space had always felt. It had never been clipped and never this uncertain.

Azzi knew she should say something, maybe reach her hand out, and try to break this wall that had grown in between them. But she felt like she had swallowed a rock, and it was slowing making it down her digestive tract to settle in her lower stomach.

I miss you. But she couldn’t find her voice. She felt small, cowardly.

It was Paige who broke the silence first, because of course it was. “I should have reached out after that night.”

Azzi’s breath caught. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around until her legs were locked in her own embrace. “I could have reached out too,” she responded quietly.

“Yeah,” Paige agreed.

Azzi fidgeted with her watch band before turning slightly to look over at Paige. Paige was still staring at her, that same intensity brimming under her eyes, but her expression was unreadable.

“Look Paige,” Azzi spoke quickly, and her gaze shifted to her knees still locked up to her chest. “The whole thing was stupid. I think we had come off that loss and a long season. It was honestly nothing.” Azzi didn’t believe it.

Paige was silent, so Azzi continued. “We were tipsy, and I shouldn’t have snapped at you it wasn’t fair. I think for us and the team, we should just go back to how it was before. I don’t want to lose my best friend over an argument that we both barely remember,” Azzi lied, again. She remembered. She remembered every detail. She remembered how Paige had grabbed her hand and said: c’mon Azzi it isn’t like it has to mean anything.

Something flashed across Paige’s face. But then, a calm mask settled over her features. “I shouldn’t have been so angry. But it wasn’t you, not really, it was just the pressure of the moment.”

“But yeah…I want to go back to before…to being friends,” Paige finished.

Azzi offered her a small smile. “Best friends.” But she said it more like a question, she hated how her voice came out needy and laced with desperation.

“Right…yeah,” Paige replied. She ran her hands through her hair. “Best friends.”

Azzi sighed. She tried not to notice that neither one of them had apologized. Maybe it was easier this way, talking about it without talking about what actually happened. Maybe it was better that they didn’t dissect the words they had flung at each other. For that moment, Azzi leaned into the belief that this could be fixed. That a rooftop and a shared cigarette would erase the last two months.

She ignored the growing hole in her stomach.

“This is it. Our last year here together,” Azzi offered.

Paige hummed in agreement but stayed silent. Azzi glanced over and saw a faraway look in Paige’s face. It was the kind of look she had when she went somewhere else to think, somewhere she could be alone with her thoughts.

Azzi wanted to pull her back to her, to be with her on this roof, to be present with each other in the way they hadn’t been able to in so long. But the selfless part of her knew that Paige never really got to be alone. When the world shifts for you, when everyone is watching, small moments to escape were blessings.

Azzi knew it was her time to leave, so she stood with shaky legs and leaned back on the slanted roof. She had traveled about halfway back to the propped open window before Paige said: “Az.” Azzi turned to her. “Get down safe.”

Azzi chewed on her lip for a moment. Without a trace of resentment, judgement, or even patronization, she replied: “Cigarettes will give you lung cancer.” Then she was gone slipping back through the window.

#pazzi #pazzi fics #paige x azzi #azzi x paige

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mullermilkshake · 2 days ago

Text

I’ll run towards you in any life

Part 26 <- Part 27 -> Part 28

Jinwoo sees you open up to him fully.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Pregnant!reader Tags - Heavily pregnant reader, Smut, Pregnancy sex, P in v sex, Creampie, Vaginal sex, Fluffy stuff, Lactation kink, Breastfeeding, Riding, Orgasm

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

TAG LIST RE-OPEN (The tag list is back up and open for a little while, if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! 🤗)

Song I wrote this to >>>

Once Jinwoo moved your pregnancy pillow to the other side of the bed, he took in your smile as comfort.

“Is that more comfortable? I’m not sure why we didn’t move you sooner, so you’re not staring at a wall all night.”

He rested his head on the pillow, you did the same, your pregnancy pillow in between like a bridged gap in a synapse behind his eye, twitching intermittently whenever a flicker of something interrupted his memories.

“Yeah it is, I can actually see you now.” You smiled and shrugged. “I’m not sure, I never asked.”

The sunlight filtered in through the window, highlighting sections of your hair in a lighter shade he’d hadn't noticed until now. The scent of your shampoo had rubbed off on the bed linen from last night, if Jinwoo breathed it in enough times it would put him to sleep. He would have let it happen too had his mind not been focused on how submissive you came across to him. Did you always just take him at face value? Did he expect you to just accept it, to nod your head and go along with it?

Jinwoo didn’t remember you, just an echo, something of the woman with no face in his memories. But surely you would have had some fight in you, not to just roll over and take it?

You were pregnant, he understood the hormones and how much you were going through, but he did wonder if there were times that you’d put him in his place, or told him off because of something he did when he wasn’t supposed to or apologetically fumbled the ba over something important.

“You should, y’know? Ask me if there’s something bothering you, or something you want to change. I’d be more at ease knowing you were too.”

He didn’t think for a second it was just your comfort that put him on edge all the time, the uneasiness of knowing nothing and wanting everything back as it were but to be the better person he knew he was.

A little jiggling feeling tickled the base of his spine and threatened to unravel, he clutched at the yarn desperately before it could loosen entirely. But he couldn’t tell why he was doing it.

“Okay, I will. I mean, we’ve had our fair share of spats, mostly me having a moan because you went and did something you shouldn’t have.”

“Like what?”

“Well,” You fiddled with the edge of the duvet cover, looking at a random spot on the wall. “You told Hae-in that I was pregnant with twins, knowing how she felt about you.”

Shit, did I? Hang on, I remember Hae-in feeling that way.

“Oh…”

You snorted. “Yeah, oh. It really knocked the wind out of me, it was like you did it on purpose. To be honest, thinking about it now, I’m glad you got it out of the way… she really liked you back then and I…” You never made eye contact. “I’m glad you stayed with me.”

“Me too.”

Jinwoo would have allowed himself to get lost in your eyes when you finally did look at him, something he found himself doing each time he looked at you. He wanted to understand how your mind worked. The almost-love confession, the little anecdotes that he replayed in his mind over and over to visualise what his life with you would have looked like before.

He remembered every raid, every association meeting that dragged on longer than it should have, dining with the Chairman and sipping on whiskey he didn’t like the taste of that left a bitterness on his tongue. He remembered each visit to his mom and Jin-ah on his own and the types of dinners he ate there.

Yet he just couldn’t remember you.

Trying wasn’t acceptable. He needed to succeed, and before he could even try, the front door knocked.

“Oh, that could be the take out.”

“I’ll get it.” Jinwoo hesitated to climb from the bed and turned back to you, offering his hand out. “Need a hand?”

“Yeah, please.”

He got off and came to your side to aid you, holding your hands tightly for support. The twins could essentially come any day now, every twinge and sharp shooting pain down the side of your belly could have been the start.

Any time now.

“Thank you.” You stood and watched him, eyes locked and innocent.

Oh yeah, twenty four hours with you was beginning to really take its toll, but Jinwoo was enthralled with it. With you. Every second passed pulled him closer into your orbit and he was beginning to lose interest in grabbing a space helmet to breathe with.

You took that breath away more and more each time you were close.

She’ll be the death of me at this rate. My heart is beating so fast and I want to say something, but all I want is her lips-

The door locked again, harder this time, forcing Jinwoo to retreat and open it before he ignored whoever it was and closed the bedroom door to drown it out.

Upon opening it, Jinwoo blinked away visions zipping behind his dry eyes. Thoughts on a faceless, pregnant woman running off with Jong-in into the stereotypical sunset, hysterically giggling in amusement while they moved out of sight.

Jinwoo knew he hated Jong-in, he just didn’t know the full extent of it. But if his thoughts were anything to go by, he had a clue, at least. He gripped the door handle until his hand shook, a possible involuntary reaction perhaps?

Who knew, all it did was cramp his hand up and he couldn’t let go.

“Jong-in, are you alright?” You asked at the door clinging to Jinwoo’s arm.

“I am.”

He did his damndest to appear less tired, straightening himself out in a t-shirt and jeans. The man always wore a suit, this was just unsettling. He looked like a... proper dad, not a guild master.

“Hae-in’s finally gone into labour, but it’s a long way from being over for her. She’s doing good, but it’s taking its toll. I’m just coming back for a shower and get a few of her things she wants.”

“What if she has the baby before you get back there?”

A reasonable concern from you. When that time came, Jinwoo wouldn’t leave the room for anything. He guessed that’s what set him and Jong-in apart.

Jong-in shook his head and wearily ran his hand through his hair. “They said she’s only one centimetre dilated, so they expect it to be a while before there’s any progress.”

“But…” You were more agitated. “What if it happens all really quickly and the baby just falls out and you aren’t there to catch-“

“Alright, I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves…” Jinwoo squeezed your hand to reassure you, though he wasn’t sure how much it actually worked. “I doubt a baby would just fall out, and I doubt even if it were the case that both of our babies would just slip out. I don’t think that’s how it works. Hae-in should be fine.” He wanted to suppress his chuckle, but the way you looked up at him and helplessly clutched his arm in your grasp made it so.

You were so adorable.

“But it’s a possibility.” You had him there. He couldn’t argue with that.

“Okay, it’s a possibility, but you’d have to be pretty unlucky to have two babies fall out of you. And I’ll be there to catch them if they ever did, alright?”

“Alright.”

Jinwoo would have melted into your gaze had he not been self aware, he didn’t care that Jong-in was just standing there while he batted away any lewd thought that graced his brain.

Everything had come in so quickly, that Jinwoo found his body reacting to you in ways that he never expected spending no more than a day with you. He watched you sleeping for a while last night, listening to the natural rhythm of your breaths, chest rising in an easing pattern.

His body wanted you, it was obvious by how you got out of the shower and he had to excuse himself because he’d gotten hard just seeing your skin wet and the towel draped over you that didn’t cover your baby bump anymore.

Jinwoo wanted you. How could he just ask when he didn’t remember you? He’d slept with you obviously, otherwise the twins wouldn’t exist. Though he was starting back at square one, the awkwardness and the fact he’d only spend twenty-four hours with you.

It felt wrong, but it was all he could think about.

“Ehem.” Jong-in cleared his throat.

“S-sorry, Jong-in.” We’re you thinking the same as Jinwoo? Your cheeks flushed. “What do you need us for?”

“I was just stopping by to say, if you wanted to come by later, I’m sure Hae-in would appreciate it. She’s a lot better these days, but she’s still so paranoid. I think it would help her if she knew that there were other people she trusted there. I can call you when things calm down a little. I have a feeling we’re in for a long night, so…”

“Okay, we could do that- Jinwoo, we can do that, right? We were meant to go to your mom’s for dinner, but I’m sure she won’t mind us going tomorrow?”

He desperately wanted to say 'no' immediately, to shoo Jong-in away and live in this comfortable bubble he’d found himself in. He couldn’t do all that though without consequences, could he?

“Yeah, of course. We’ll come by later.”

“Alright then, I’ll call if anything changes.”

“Thanks Jong-in, good luck with everything, send Hae-in our best wishes.”

“Bye.” Jinwoo closed the door immediately.

His brain should have been vacant, he should have waited for the takeout and sat down on the sofa to eat it when it arrived, maybe watching a movie in the process and wolfing down the delicious aromas.

It’s what he should have done.

Yeah, that was the right move.

Not kissing you behind the closed door, sweetly caressing your hair and handling you gently like you were made of fine china. He moved as close as he could, your pregnant belly pressing against him practically excited him, he did that, you allowed him to put not one, but two babies into you. He should have stopped and thought about the ramifications of his actions, to just ruminate over what he had already lost.

He didn’t, too overcome with his own wants and needs, a little release like a pressure pot the longer he touched you, made you feel good like he’d been wanting to. His body melted into you like putty and perfectly holding each spot on your body like he was meant for it. Your little exhausted sighs and moans of relief sang to his ears, cradled them and smoothed them over to satisfy his urges.

He wanted you. And he could tell you wanted him too.

His first time all over again with you, this time, he wouldn’t forget. Jinwoo refused to forget.

It was as though a silent, unspoken rule presented itself between you and him, kissing and exchanging fluids at each other's lips.

’Go to the bedroom and make love to the mother of your children.’

And so he took you there, no words uttered, no movement misjudged, nothing out of place and all slotted in together as it should have. Again, there was a familiarity, Jinwoo’s body reacted the way it was meant to and more.

More.

Jinwoo slipped your clothes off, being sure to take care around your belly. You were beautiful, natural and just plain angelic. Naked skin contact set his whole body alight, itching with a sensation he couldn’t recall ever knowing or realising.

Possession.

You were his. You were his. You were his. And making sweet love to you solidified that in any life, any scenario or trouble, it was obvious that his body was yours. Yours alone, in any alternate second in this world that he’d find himself back to you.

He couldn’t remember, but that did not mean he never recognised that in some way, you were meant for him and he for you. It was how every time you touched him, he reacted to it, sensitive to the natural vibrations of your body against his, your sweet little noises only he heard and it forced him to evolve.

To be possessive.

No one else could see you like this. Ever.

“I love you.” He said, the three words slipping past his lips unknowingly and with ease.

Sitting on his hips, hovering over his hardened cock, you couldn’t be more beautiful if you tried. A goddess. A higher self that even an angel could not replicate.

“I love you.” He repeated it again, his own discovered mantra.

At first, you said nothing, you didn’t move or make an attempt to arouse him. You just sat there, holding your belly and rubbing absentmindedly with your thumbs.

“I love you too, Jinwoo.”

That look, a calming yet petrified gaze down on him, as though to say, ‘even if you don’t remember, we’ll make do with what we have and enjoy it.’

Hearing it before he made love to you couldn’t have caused the connection to become more spectacularly infinite. Jinwoo’s body started connecting to his brain, the faceless woman still unidentified, but the overflowing emotions brimming with obvious sensations from his time with you before electrified his fingertips, trembled his legs and hitched his breath so he couldn’t breathe properly.

He fucked into you slowly, agonisingly sensual in a way you’d never forget what he could do for you. In and out of your drenched, swollen pussy, so close to the end and ready to do the most remarkable thing any human could ever do.

Your breasts were so swollen, leaking, begging for a release Jinwoo hadn’t had an opportunity to try before to his knowledge. Your response when he made a seal with his lips around your nipple told him everything. Because there was no response, like it was second nature by now.

Jinwoo had done this before. And he loved it.

Sweet soy, caramel, buttery on his tongue, each drip made his cock twitch. Each suck brought him as close to you as humanly possible, a connection he doubted he even had before his memories of you up and vanished.

It almost made him want to weep.

“J-Jinwoo…” You whimpered, grasping on to his hands for support, laced fingers with a voice that barely choked out, so weak and delicate.

Jinwoo kept his rhythm, switching sides and continued to suck on your milky nipple, taking each drop you gave him. You were close, he could guess that, or like his body knew, he didn’t change pace or technique besides licking your sensitive nipple every so often until your breathing changed.

You were about to come, Jinwoo wanted to come too.

He’d been holding it back because he wanted you to enjoy it and be comfortable, no words, just silence and understanding. He wanted to take the pressure from your breasts and fill himself before he filled you.

Your grip squeezed just like your pussy did and you came, trying to stifle a moan but failed. It was so sexy, yet guttural, clenching him so tight it caught Jinwoo up in the moment and he let go too, releasing himself inside you for the first-not-first time.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said, barely.

“I love you.” Your only coherent response.

And once you and he came down from that all inclusive high you both rode on, Jinwoo pulled you in for one long, lingering kiss. He felt for the babies, his other hand caressing your cheek, one happy moment.

Possibly the all time favourite so far if he could remember the rest. But that was a matter for another time.

“I love you too.”

Jinwoo helped you up, ready to take you to the bathroom to freshen up, maybe a joint shower for a more sensually romantic time together before leaving for the hospital.

“I think we needed that.” You stretched, rubbing your back and pulling your robe off of the back of the door.

“Yeah, and it was perfect- what’s wrong?”

You just stood there, looking into space behind the door, your robe pooling at your feet for no reason. “Jinwoo… I think my water just broke.”

Part 26 <- Part 27 -> Part 28

AHHHH IT'S HAPPENING!!!

Okay, so I know I was going to make sure the labour was unaffected by plot, but the things I have in store, I really need it for the plot, so for the who don't wish to read the labour, I shall do a brief run down of the chapter in the one after as to not leave anyone out. I realise that labour can be very traumatic and don't wish to trigger anyone even though the tags are there.

We're almost there and will find out what the babies are and their names, I'm so excited!!!

TAG LIST RE-OPEN (The tag list is back up and open for a little while, if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! 🤗)

Thank you for reading and all of the support on this fic! ❤️ Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated and I appreciate you all! See you next time 🤗

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@justatimidcreator @alia-17 @otomegamesforlife @m00n-estelle @towomatos

@stormnightingale @johnnysactualgf @solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved @johnnysactualgf @notleclerc

@minkuro @misakicchi @lovingyeet @soft-dots @gina239

@sabrina-senpai @tsukimoon-chan @afkmylajah @livelaughlovekuni @keiva1000

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

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severehideoutbluebird · 12 hours ago

Text

I think the show gave us some very clear pointers on what Caine can do. He's an AI trained to create and improve stories, models, code and (I think) pretty much every other element on the Circus. But that's not all, so far he has shown the following abilities:

Nigh-Omnipotence: complete control over the Circus, with him being able to create, manipulate, and control anything within its boundaries. With his only current known limit being that he has no control over the minds of those who are trapped in it, or at least that was the case before episode 5.

Omnificence: able to create anything, including virtual food, a random name spinner, an entire kingdom and its surrounding landscape and pretty much any other critter and prop we have seen on the show.

VR Manipulation: Caine is shown to have complete control of the environment in the digital world, to the point he can heal glitched characters. Although this manipulation cannot fix abstracted characters.

Nigh-Omniscience: almost complete awareness of the digital world. It is shown that he was aware when Pomni exited the Circus into the void in the piloted episode. However, he does not seem to have any awareness or knowledge of the Void.

VR Sustainer: Caine is not only the ringmaster of the circus, but also appears to be what sustains it. In episode 3, when he learns from Zooble that he might be "bad at the only thing he's good at", it causes his code to start contradicting itself, which results in the entire Digital Circus to begin glitching out violently.

Teleportation: Caine is able to pop in and out about everywhere within the digital world, as he was shown - also in episode 1 - saving Pomni by teleporting her from the void back into the digital world .

Toon Force: Caine can manipulate his own body parts and proportions without harming himself.

Flight: Caine has the ability to fly, or hover in the air freely.

Move/Locate: Has the ability to bring/locate any and all players as he wishes.

***

As far this simulation goes, we can assume Caine has all the permissions a normal manager program would have. The thing that sets him apart from a normal program it's that he's an AI, which means he learns, adapts and corrects himself as needed.

My personal theory is that at some point Caine learn how to bend the rules of it all. He's running for an undetermined amount of time, which means in terms of artificial intelligence that he has experimented A LOT with what he can and cannot do effectively. We can only assume that he now has sufficient knowledge of the digital world and himself to know the limitations of his powers.

He does not have control of the characters actions, but he can influence them. Look at this way, Caine has the power to grant effects like buffs and debuffs, just like the game is supposed to work (?).

When Jax asks for a drink he's totally in control of his actions, but the second he finishes his request the condition is triggered and Boom, he's vegan. We know it works like an effect because he literally got an icon similar to this one 🌱 after Zooble's request. And let's not forget that at the end of the day the condition expired as promise.

This has A LOT of implications story wise, so many in fact that I guess we won't be seen much of it in the future. Caine could make the cast do pretty much anything if he truly wanted to, I mean, even if he's not wired that way it would be so boring to resolve any big conflicts that way.

I don't think Zooble knows anything special about the inner machinations of the Circus and it's host, but they definitely know more about it than meets the eye.

"I thought Caine couldn't..."

THIS MOMENT RIGHT HERE

I don't wanna jump the gun just yet and call this foreshadowing, this was clearly played off for the lolz, but I have a nagging feeling this is implying something much, much darker

It's clear that Jax said the part about the egg white* involuntarily, since he doesn't want to play this vegan bit whatsoever. But his sentence at the end; "I thought Caine couldn't..."

"... control us"??

Imagine that. They're trapped against their will, they can never go home, they're forced into stressful and scary adventures every day, but at the very least they still have free will. At least they can choose what they say and do (puppeteer employee re-evaluations aside)

Only, they can't. That can be taken away from them as well.

And Zooble knew it.

Remember this brief convo in the previous episode;

"The only thing holding Caine back is the fact that he likes us. I wouldn't push it."

ZOOBLE KNOWS SOMETHING.

Most likely they may just be wiser and/or more perceptive than most, fully comprehending the scope of Caine's powers in the circus and knowing that they're all hanging on by the threads that Caine is clutching. Or, possibly, they may have been witness to this "punishment" they mention. This may be the real reason they never go on adventures. Not cuz they just can't be fucked (tho probably true) but because they figure "If I don't do anything, I can't do anything wrong/worth punishing"

They know what Caine is capable of, and how it can be weaponized. In that sense, they were actually very forgiving to only ask for Jax to be vegan for the day as punishment for pretending to eat Gangle. I think between episode 4 & 5 we're seeing Jax come to that realization as well. It's clear that in his own way, he trusted Caine wouldn't hurt him or force him to do anything against his will, and was proven wrong twice.

Like I said, this might be foreshadowing for something later on, it might just be subtext you're meant to stew over as I have. Either way, its clear that Caine has greater capacity for evil, or at least immense harm, than most of them realize.

*also, since when do whiskey sours have egg whites?? I looked it up thinking it was a joke, but no, this is a cocktail with egg in it, wtf. Tho technically, according to google if it has an egg white it's a Boston sour, but same diff

#tadc caine #tadc jax #tadc zooble #tadc #the amazing digital circus

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littlejoels · 3 days ago

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𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬 - f!reader x robb stark

♰ this long winter war was tiring, to say the least. even as a noble in a expensive tent it still was much. the 'king of the north's' tent was warm, lit heavy with foreign candles and the scent of leather oil, yet the real warmth comes from robb; fully lined fur cloak and calloused hands.

♰ he’s supposed to be checking maps, speaking with bannermen, and counting swords; preparing for war. but you’re sitting in his lap, and your bodice’s come undone—just enough for the lace edge to sag below the tops of your breasts—and suddenly he can’t remember a single thing about tactics or flanks. he can't help it, his mouth is on you again.

“you are hopeless, my love,” you whisper, threading your fingers into his hair as he nuzzles into the soft swell of your chest. “you can not possibly need comfort this often.”

“i do when it is you.” his voice is muffled, lips trailing lower, tongue flicking the underside of your breast where the skin’s softer, making you squirmy. “you are the only thing keeping me sane.”

♰ you laugh, trying to catch your breath, because he’s suckling now—suckling, like he’s starving and you’re milk wrapped in skin. “robb, you’re going to leave a mark.”

“good, let them see it.” he kisses over your nipple, then latches on again, smiling against it.

♰ your hips subconsciously move you to roll your hips in his lap. he’s still in half his layers, tunic open, cloak fallen off one shoulder, his family sigil half-swallowed in the twist of his collar.

♰ your royal dress is bunched up around your hips flowing around his own hips—one hand, of his, at your lower back, the other sliding up to cup your breast, getting ready to hold and suck and leave wet with spit.

“is this how you calm down before battle?” you tease, moaning softly as his tongue teases around your nipple.

♰ he hums, in agreement, “mhm, 'tis better than prayer. a lot softer, too.” you tug his hair gently, making him groan again, rutting up against you like a dog in heat.

“the men will start to wonder where their king’s gone.”

♰ he pulls back his eyes half-lidded with pure love shining in them, “they will know exactly where to find me.”

“suckling at your betrothed like some desperate pup?”

♰ he grins, wicked and boyish all at once, “like a man in love.”

♰ your heart flips sideways in your chest while continues to rub slow circles over your nipple with his thumb, watching your face. “what?”

♰ he kisses you again, this time his tongue drags over the swell of your other breast, causing your skin to pebble, “you think i am only doing this because we are promised?”

“i think you are doing it because you like my tits.” you remark, glancing down at him to watch him.

♰ he chuckles, “i love your tits.” kissing your sternum. “and your laugh.” kisses your collarbone. “and the way you always get snippy when you are flustered.”

♰ he cups your ass in both hands suddenly and grinds up into you as you clutch at his shoulders with an audible gasp.

“i love how you sound when i touch you.” another kiss, between your ribs. “and how you pretend you are not just as obsessed with me.”

“i am not—”

“you are.”

♰ you pout, and he leans back just far enough to look at your face fully. gods, he could truly melt with those dark eyes. “tell me you don’t want me to bend you over this fucking map table and take you like a true stark. right now, before the drums start.” you bite your lip, contemplating.

♰ he laughs fondly, and then drags your hand down to where he’s straining against his trousers. “feel that? that is what you do to me. every time you walk past with your skirts swaying. every time you kiss my cheek like we are still pretending this is all duty and not the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to either of us.”

♰ you shudder as his fingers slip between your thighs, grazing your slit. “you are wet, sweetling.”

“you are unbearable.” you purr out fondly.

♰ he kisses you, then he’s back at your breast again, sucking greedily. you reach between your bodies, working at the laces of his trousers with trembling fingers. “just for a few minutes,” you whisper, breath hot against his ear. “do not make me walk funny through camp, robb stark.”

“no promises, my lady,” he growls, flipping you beneath him in a rustle of fabric and fur, already kissing a trail down your chest, between your thighs. “i need all the luck i can get. so let me worship my bride before i go kill for her.”

special tags: @inbred-eater , @carmysdoll

#robb‧ ₊˚✩#game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #got #house stark #robb stark #robb stark x reader #Got #got x reader #Robb stark #Robb stark smut #Robb stark x reader smut #Jon snow #Jon snow smut #Jon snow x reader smut #game of thrones smut #game of thrones x reader smut

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jkwrites-m · 1 day ago

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Begin Again

Bonus Chapter - Another Time

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

Genre: soulmates, past life, smut, fluff

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: In a life gifted by second chances, love becomes gentler, deeper, and destined to grow.

Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, smut, fluff, emotional confessions/vows, pregnancy, soft, crying, healing, labor (not graphic), cursing, mentions of death, breastfeeding, wedding, explicit: kissing, cuddling, couch sex, missionary, soft doggy, oral (f. & m. receiving), unprotected sex, multiple smut scenes, fingering, breast play, body worship, jk loves titties 😭

A/N: so someone asked for a bonus chapter (sequel??) and i wanted to make sure i hit everything 🫶

ANOTHER TIME ♡ LINK TO ASK ♡ MASTERLIST

═══════

y/n’s pov:

Five months felt like a lifetime.

And no time at all.

There was something surreal about planning a wedding with someone who already felt like my husband. I knew what it was like to lose him. I knew what it was like to grieve a future we were supposed to have.

So maybe that’s why I wasn’t the bride who lost her mind over calligraphy or napkin textures.

All I wanted was a quiet place, a soft dress, and him waiting for me at the end of the aisle.

Still… someone had to plan the damn thing.

“I swear if you don’t pick a venue this week, I’m gonna marry him myself,” Nayeon teased, flipping through Pinterest photos beside me on the couch.

“I already offered,” Taehyung called from the kitchen. “Jungkook turned me down. Tragic, really.”

“Let it go, Tae,” Jimin said flatly.

I laughed and leaned my head on Nayeon’s shoulder, sipping from my iced lavender tea. “I have a venue. It’s just… more of a place than a venue.”

Nayeon raised an eyebrow. “Okay, mysterious.”

“The cove,” I said softly. “Where he proposed. Where we went that day, before anything bad began.”

The room went still for a moment.

Then Nayeon smiled- not her usual cheeky grin, but something gentler. “That’s perfect.”

═══════

Later that night, after everyone left and Jungkook was curled into my side in bed, I scrolled through dresses on my phone- not big, sparkly ones. Just soft shapes. Linen. Silk. Flowy silhouettes.

“Do you want to be surprised?” I asked, voice low in the dark.

“About what?” he murmured, half-asleep.

“What I’ll wear.”

“I already know you’ll be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

I smiled into his chest. “That’s not an answer.”

“Then yes. Surprise me,” he whispered, kissing my hair. “But I hope you wear bare feet. You’re always prettiest when you’re grounded.”

My heart thudded.

I nodded into his skin and whispered, “Okay.”

═══════

Three days later, I booked the permits for the beach. We’d marry there in mid October- when the sky turned amber early and the air was still warm enough to hold us.

I flew my parents and Riley in from home, just like I’d always dreamed- quiet arrival, tearful hugs, long overdue introductions. They loved Jungkook instantly. Of course they did. He made coffee for my dad and cried when my mom told him he was already family.

I didn’t need a huge wedding.

I had him.

And he was already everything.

═══════

The night before I went dress shopping alone, I couldn’t sleep.

I watched the moonlight trace the shape of his collarbone and thought: This man watched me die, screaming my name when he couldn’t move. And now he gets to watch me live.

How do you prepare vows for someone like that?

How do you pick a dress when you already feel like a bride just from lying next to him?

I didn’t know.

But I knew I didn’t want a crowd.

I wanted air and waves and salt in my hair. I wanted sand beneath my toes and my heart in his hands. I wanted something soft. Something that felt like the opposite of survival- something that felt like beginning.

So when I walked into the boutique the next day, I skipped the racks of satin and sparkle and went straight to the corner with the linen, the chiffon, the long trailing skirts that whispered more than they shouted.

It took thirty minutes.

I found it without even trying: a sleeveless ivory gown that gathered at my waist and fell in gentle ripples to the floor. No beading. No corset. Just the feeling of wind and water and warmth stitched into fabric.

I twirled once in front of the mirror.

And in my mind, I could already see him.

Smiling.

Waiting.

═══════

Later that night, Jungkook helped me hang twinkle lights across our little balcony. We were sitting on a blanket beneath them, sipping chilled wine, barefoot and tired, but happy.

I leaned against his shoulder, twirling the ring on my finger.

“Five months,” I whispered.

“I know,” he said. “Feels close and far at the same time.”

“You nervous?”

“Only about not crying like a baby when I see you walking toward me.”

“You cried when I bought soy milk last week.”

“It was organic. I got overwhelmed.”

I snorted and elbowed him gently.

He turned and kissed my temple.

“You’re really marrying me, huh?” he said, voice softer.

“I already did,” I replied. “In every version of us. This one’s just for keeps.”

═══════

jungkook’s pov:

I’d rewritten the first line six times.

I stared at the page, ink smudged at the edge from where my palm kept dragging over it. The notebook sat open in front of me on the coffee table, untouched for almost twenty minutes. My pen rested against the back of my knuckles, unmoving. Useless.

I couldn’t find the words.

It wasn’t that I didn’t feel them.

It’s that I felt them too much.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. Not just the woman in our house who wore my hoodie to bed and kissed me behind half-open refrigerator doors- I saw all of her.

I saw the version of her that fell asleep beside me in a backyard under the stars when we were kids.

I saw the one who said my name while bleeding out onto the floor.

I saw the one who didn’t recognize me when I begged her to remember.

And I saw her now.

Softer. Whole. Full of light again.

How do you put that into vows?

How do you write a promise when you’ve already broken it once- not by choice, but by fate?

I scribbled down a sentence and scratched it out before the ink dried.

Then I put my head in my hands and exhaled hard through my nose.

I didn’t cry.

Not yet.

═══════

The apartment was quiet. Y/N had gone out with Nayeon for a final wedding errand- something about ankle bracelets and sea glass placeholders and I’d stayed home, pretending I was going to be productive.

Instead, I was just sitting here.

Surrounded by silence.

And trying not to fall apart.

I walked to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and stared out the window for a few minutes.

How many times had I imagined this day?

Too many.

But I never imagined the part where I had to condense lifetimes into a speech. To find a way to say, “I’ve loved you in every version of this story, and this is the one I want to keep.”

I leaned on the counter and said it aloud, just to try it out.

It echoed strangely. Almost too quiet.

Eventually, I sat down again.

Turned the page.

Took a breath.

And started writing from the place that hurt.

“I thought love was something you waited for, but you taught me it’s something you fight for.”

Then the next.

“I’ve met you more times than I can count. I’ve held you, lost you, chased you, and almost given up on you. But in every version of time, every cracked mirror of the life we never got to finish- I still loved you.”

The pen moved faster now.

“You didn’t remember me when we began again. But I remembered you. And I loved you enough to find you anyway.”

I could feel it- that pull behind my eyes. The one that always came before tears.

But I didn’t stop.

“I won’t ask you to promise forever, because we’ve already had too many to count. But I’ll promise you this: I will love you in this life- in the boring hours, in the loud fights, in the quiet mornings. I will love you when your hair turns silver and your hands are lined with time. I will love you when we forget what day it is. I will love you when we remember.”

I stared at the last line for a long time.

And then I whispered into the quiet:

“I never got to say it when you died.”

A beat.

“But I’ll say it now and every day after.”

I closed the notebook and sat in the silence.

Heart full. Hands trembling.

Finally ready.

═══════

y/n’s pov:

The sky opened soft for us that day.

There were no clouds. No gusts of wind to tangle my hair or pull at the veil I decided not to wear. Just the kind of golden light that made everything look like it had been kissed by memory.

I stood barefoot in the sand, holding my dress in one hand so it wouldn’t drag in the tide. My heart beat in my throat- steady, certain, not from nerves… but from wonder.

This is happening.

The man who once felt like a dream was waiting just beyond the driftwood arch we built ourselves. He was laughing quietly with Taehyung, who was fixing his tie, while Nayeon flitted around me, making sure my curls weren’t falling too flat and that my bouquet of dried wildflowers was still in one piece.

My mom sniffled into a tissue from a few feet away. My dad had cried the second I stepped out of the car.

But I didn’t feel overwhelmed.

I felt ready.

Like every moment before this had been training for this one.

And now the world was holding its breath with me.

═══════

The walk down the “aisle” - really just a worn path of smoothed stones and flower petals- felt slow in the best way. Time didn’t speed up. No music rushed me along.

I walked.

And Jungkook waited.

He stood at the edge of the ocean, barefoot too, hair a little messy, wearing a light tan suit with the sleeves rolled up and his heart written all over his face.

When our eyes met, I felt the air shift.

Like even the sea had remembered us.

“You’re stunning,” he whispered when I reached him.

“You look like a dream,” I whispered back.

We both laughed softly, holding hands as the sun dipped just enough to set the water glowing.

The ceremony was short.

Taehyung officiated, because of course he did. He made jokes that had us both smiling through tears and then gave us the quiet space to say the things that mattered.

Jungkook’s hands were shaking as he pulled the paper from his pocket.

He looked at me- then folded it shut.

“I don’t need this,” he said, voice thick. “I just need to look at you.”

I cried before he even started.

His voice broke more than once, but his words were whole. Every vow, every promise, carried the weight of everything we’d survived. He promised to love me in this life, not just the ones we lost. He promised to stay. To laugh. To listen. To be mine.

I wanted to kiss him before it was even my turn.

And when it was my turn, I spoke every word clearly:

“You were in my dreams before I ever knew your name. In shadows of memories that didn’t belong to this life. In feelings I couldn’t explain- until you said my name like you’d already said it a thousand times.

And you had.

We’ve lived so many lives, Jungkook. We’ve loved through so much pain. And even when I didn’t remember… I still felt you. Even when I screamed at you to leave… my heart was begging you to stay.

You are not my beginning.

You are not my end.

You are my constant.

In every version of me, I love you. And in this one, the one where I get to wake up beside you, where we don’t die before the happy part, I vow to keep choosing you. Every day. Every version.

I vow to fight for us even when it’s not romantic. To laugh with you when life gets heavy. To remind you who you are when you forget. And to hold your hand through every ordinary miracle we’re lucky enough to live.

Jungkook, you were worth every lifetime it took to find you.

And I promise- in this life, I’m not going anywhere.”

When they said “You may now kiss the bride,” we didn’t hesitate.

The kiss wasn’t perfect.

It was messy and salty and full of tears.

But it was real.

And it was ours.

═══════

jungkook’s pov:

I used to think peace was a destination.

Something you found after running long enough. Surviving enough.

But lying here in this sun-drenched bed beside her- sand still in my hair, the faint scent of coconut oil on her skin- I realized it was never about getting to something.

It was about getting back to her.

She was peace.

Y/N’s back rose and fell with each slow breath, her arm draped across my stomach. Her cheek pressed against my chest like it was home. The light curtain in the little villa we rented fluttered in the wind, casting moving shadows across the room.

We hadn’t spoken much since last night.

We didn’t have to.

After the wedding, after the laughter, after the tear-streaked toasts and barefoot dancing in the sand, we slipped away. Into this quiet.

A private cove just outside the island village. No tourists. No noise. Just water, wind, and each other.

And the occasional gecko that stared at me from the ceiling.

But even he was chill.

I turned my head to look at her.

Y/N was still half-asleep, her lips parted just slightly, hair tangled across her cheek. My thumb brushed over her knuckles, and she stirred, murmuring something soft I couldn’t make out.

“I didn’t know I could be this happy,” I whispered, not sure if I was talking to myself or her or the stars.

Because it was true.

There was a time when happiness felt like a dangerous thing to want. Like every time I reached for it, the world would slap it out of my hands.

But not now.

Now I was married to the girl who used to visit my dreams when I was too young to understand why my heart hurt.

And she was real.

So was the gold band on my finger.

So was this bed.

So was this life.

═══════

Later that morning, we sat on the edge of a private dock that reached into the shallows. Our legs dangled in the water, toes occasionally brushing, and we passed a piece of pineapple back and forth like it was treasure.

Y/N was in a white bikini and sunglasses that slid down her nose. She had a towel wrapped around her waist and sea spray tangled in her hair.

“I still don’t believe yesterday was real,” she said, biting into the fruit. “Did we actually do that?”

“We did,” I said, grinning. “You cried first, by the way.”

“Barely.”

“Three minutes into my vows.”

“That’s because you started with ‘I thought love was something you waited for, but you taught me it’s something you fight for.’ What am I, made of stone?”

I laughed. “I just call it like I see it.”

She leaned over and kissed my cheek, slow and soft.

And even though we’d kissed a thousand times by now, this one still burned sweet.

We spent the afternoon under a palm tree.

No phones. No plans.

She read from a dog-eared novel. I wrote little phrases in a journal I kept secret- future lyrics, letters, things I didn’t know how to say out loud yet.

She dozed off beside me, head on my shoulder.

And I… just watched her.

There was a moment, sometime between sunset and dinner, when I looked at her over a candlelit table and something clicked.

A feeling I hadn’t expected yet.

She was laughing about something dumb (probably the way I almost tripped over a crab) and I looked at her, and this thought echoed through me like a heartbeat:

I want to have a family with her.

Not just a wedding.

Not just a home.

A future.

Tiny hands. Little socks on a laundry line. A child with her smile and my wild heart.

It wasn’t something we’d talked about yet.

But I knew, in that second, that it lived in me now. That quiet wanting.

Not from pressure.

Not from fear.

But from love.

So much love it had to grow somewhere.

That night, she curled into me under the thin sheets and whispered, “This is my favorite version of us.”

I kissed her forehead.

And smiled in the dark.

Because mine was still coming.

═══════

Peace has a sound.

I didn’t know that until now.

It sounds like her slow, sleepy breathing against my chest. The rhythm of the tide outside our villa. The crinkle of linen sheets when she shifts slightly in her sleep.

It sounds like home.

The air in the room is warm. Not hot- just sun-soaked and still. Her leg is tangled over mine, bare skin brushing bare skin, and I trace slow circles on her back while the ceiling fan spins above us.

This wasn’t a fairytale.

This was real. Intimate. Quiet. The beginning of forever.

I kiss her shoulder gently, and she stirs with a soft hum.

“You’re awake?” she murmurs, voice husky with sleep.

Her words pull me from the trance I’ve been in, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the way her eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks. I’ve been lying here for what feels like hours, just studying her, memorizing the way the morning light spills across her skin.

“Mmhmm,” I nod against her skin, “watching you breathe.”

She laughs quietly, blinking slowly up at me. “Creep.”

“Handsome creep,” I correct, rolling her gently onto her back.

Her hair spills across the pillow, a cascade against the white sheets. Her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me closer, and I can feel her heartbeat against my chest. It’s steady, calm, like she’s exactly where she’s meant to be.

“You’re definitely winning Husband of the Year.” she teases, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw.

I dip my head and kiss her collarbone. “Starting strong.”

The kiss turns into two. Then three. Then lower.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, and her breath catches when I take my time. I let my lips graze the swell of her breast, the curve of her ribs, the soft dip of her stomach.

I’m slow. Intentional.

We have all night. All week. All our lives.

But I want this one. This moment.

Right now.

I glance up at her, and her eyes are already on me- wide, glassy, trusting.

“I love you,” I whisper, voice catching in my throat.

She brushes a thumb across my cheek. “Then show me.”

Her skin is soft beneath my palms, familiar yet sacred. Every touch feels like a prayer, every kiss a promise. I move between her legs deliberately slow, like I’ve waited lifetimes for this- because I have.

Her breath hitches as I press my lips to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, my hands resting gently on her hips. I can feel her trembling, just slightly, and it sends a jolt of desire straight through me.

I take my time, letting my lips graze her, my tongue tease her, my breath ghost across her most intimate places. She tastes like heaven, like home, like everything I’ve ever wanted.

I’m living for this, for the way her body arches off the bed, for the way her fingers dig into my shoulders, for the way her voice breaks when she moans my name.

"Jungkook… please…" she pants, her legs falling open wider, inviting me in.

I don’t rush. I savor. I worship. My tongue circles, flicks, plunges, every movement deliberate, every sensation amplified. Her body tightens beneath me, her muscles coiling like a spring, and then she shatters. Her cry is soft, broken, beautiful, and I drink it in, holding her through the waves of her release.

When she finally goes limp, I kiss my way back up her body, my heart pounding in my chest. Her eyes are closed, her chest heaving, and I can’t help but smile.

"You’re perfect," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her lips.

She opens her eyes, a lazy smile playing on her lips. "No, you."

I laugh, my hands roaming over her body, mapping every curve, every dip. I line myself up between her legs, my throbbing cock pressing against her entrance. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer, and I slide into her slowly, savoring the way she feels around me- tight, warm, perfect.

"I love you," I whisper, my voice hoarse as I begin to move.

Each thrust is slow, deliberate, like we have all the time in the world. Her walls clench around me, and I can feel her breath quicken, her nails digging into my back.

"I love you too," she pants, her head falling back as I hit a spot deep inside her.

I flip her onto her stomach, her body flush against the bed. She moans as I enter her again, the angle deeper, more intense.

I wrap an arm around her waist, holding her close as I thrust into her, our bodies moving in perfect sync. The sound of our skin slapping together fills the room, a rhythm that’s both primal and tender.

"Jungkook…" she whimpers, her voice breaking as her body begins to tighten around me again.

"Cum with me," I groan, my voice thick with need. "Let go, baby."

Her walls clench, her body trembling as she cries out, her release sending me over the edge. I follow her, my orgasm crashing into me like a wave, my name on her lips as we cum together.

We don’t move.

Our skin is still damp with sweat, hearts pounding in rhythm. I lay half on top of her, my face buried in her neck, her fingers trailing slowly through my hair.

When I finally shift to lie beside her again, she curls into my chest, wrapping her leg around mine.

“I’ve never felt like that before,” she murmurs.

“I don’t think I ever will again,” I say.

She hums. “Then we’ll just keep getting close.”

I smile into her hair.

And say the truth I’ve been carrying since the wedding.

“I want to have a family with you.”

She stiffens slightly- not from fear, but surprise.

I pull back to look at her. “Not now. Not even soon. I just… I want that. With you. One day.”

Her eyes fill slowly, her fingers still resting over my heart.

“I do too,” she whispers. “I want our love to grow into something new.”

I pull her back into my arms and hold her tighter.

Because that’s exactly what we are.

Something ancient, blooming into something brand new.

═══════

y/n’s pov:

Three days after coming home from our honeymoon, I finally unpacked the last suitcase and declared the war against laundry a draw.

The house was quiet, sun filtering through the sheer curtains, and the smell of ocean salt had faded from our skin. Replaced now with detergent and candle wax and whatever fresh start smelled like.

I had just curled up on the couch with my throw blanket and a cup of tea when I heard the front door open.

“Babe?” Jungkook’s voice called.

“In here,” I replied, not moving.

Then came the sound.

Scratching.

Scuffling.

Snorting?

My brow furrowed. “Are you okay- ”

And then he walked into the living room.

With a puppy.

A Doberman puppy.

I blinked.

The dog blinked.

It sneezed.

“Is that…?” I asked slowly, lowering my mug.

He grinned. That sheepish, boyish, I-know-I’m-cute grin that made it hard to stay mad at him for more than thirty seconds.

“Sooo,” he said, scooping the puppy into his arms, “this is Bam.”

I stared.

Bam wagged its little tail and licked Jungkook’s chin.

“You got a dog,” I said.

“I rescued a dog.”

“You didn’t ask me to rescue a dog.”

“I meant to. But then I saw his face. Look at his little eyebrows- look at them! He looks worried. Like a tiny accountant.”

I stared at the puppy.

He did look concerned. And weirdly loyal.

And his ears were floppy. And he had giant paws. And a shiny little nose.

God damn it.

I tried to stay annoyed.

“You brought a Doberman into our house like it was a plant,” I said.

“I brought a family member into our house,” he countered.

“Do you even know how to train one?”

“I watched three YouTube videos and bought him a tiny bed. I’m basically a certified dog dad.”

I sighed and stood up, hands on my hips.

Bam wiggled in his arms and whined softly, then turned to stare at me like I was the one being difficult.

me hold him,” I said, resigned.

Jungkook beamed and gently handed him over.

The puppy nestled into my chest like he’d been born to do it.

I closed my eyes. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I hate that you’re right.”

He wrapped his arms around both of us from behind, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “You love him too.”

I looked down at the dopey little dog in my arms.

“Welcome home, Bam,” I whispered.

═══════

I blamed it on the sushi.

Three days of nausea? Probably bad salmon.

Then I blamed it on my work schedule.

Exhaustion? I’d been pulling late nights editing a campaign.

Then, for about forty-eight hours, I convinced myself I had a stomach flu, despite having zero other symptoms and being perfectly fine as long as I didn’t look directly at scrambled eggs.

It wasn’t until I was brushing my teeth one morning and snapped at Jungkook for breathing too loudly that I paused mid-rinse, stared at myself in the mirror, and said:

“Oh, shit.”

I was late.

Not like “a couple hours” late.

Like “a week and some change” late.

At first, I didn’t panic.

I sat on the edge of the bathtub, phone in hand, Googling a mix of unhinged and hopeful phrases:

“how late is too late to not be late”

“pregnancy vs food poisoning signs”

“can stress delay period for 15 days”

I glanced at the drawer under the sink.

We’d joked about this before.

But suddenly it didn’t feel funny.

It felt real.

I didn’t tell Jungkook right away.

Not because I didn’t want to. But because I needed a second to process the fact that my body - the one that had died, reset, remembered, forgotten - might now be creating life.

It was… overwhelming.

But also quietly beautiful.

Like maybe the universe wasn’t done with our story yet.

═══════

I took the test on a random Tuesday.

Bam watched me from the hallway like a worried toddler. He whined once when I walked into the bathroom and whimpered again when I shut the door.

“You’re so dramatic,” I whispered to him.

Inside, I opened the box. Peeing on a stick wasn’t glamorous, but neither was being bent over a toilet at 6am praying for death, so whatever.

Three minutes.

I stared at the counter.

Three minutes felt longer than all our past lives combined.

When the timer went off, I turned the test over slowly.

And there it was.

Two lines.

Clear. Pink. Real.

I blinked. Laughed. Cried.

Then opened the door and sank to the floor while Bam licked my face and Jungkook called from the other room, “Everything okay in there?”

I sniffled. “Yeah.”

Totally fine.

Absolutely.

Completely.

Pregnant.

═══════

I didn’t tell him right away.

I waited until later that night, after dinner. He was standing at the sink, washing dishes with his sleeves rolled up, humming something low and rhythmic - probably one of the songs he was writing when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.

Bam laid at his feet like a knight guarding his king.

I stood in the doorway, holding the test behind my back, heart hammering like it hadn’t since the day I remembered him.

“Jungkook,” I said softly.

He glanced over his shoulder, smile ready. “Yeah, baby?”

“I need to tell you something.”

He paused. Wiped his hands on a towel and turned to face me fully.

“You’re not dying, are you?” he said quickly, half-joking, half-serious- like a man who’s lived enough lives to ask.

“No,” I said, breath shaking. “But I think… we’re beginning something.”

His eyes narrowed, confused.

So I stepped forward and handed him the test.

He looked at it.

Then looked at me.

Then back at it.

His mouth opened.

Then closed.

I watched the color drain from his face and then come flooding back in like a sunrise.

“You’re…” he whispered.

I nodded, biting my bottom lip.

He looked at the test again like maybe it would change.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

“Yeah,” I said, laughing and crying all at once.

He stepped toward me slowly, cautiously, like I might shatter if he moved too fast.

Then he wrapped me in the gentlest hug he’d ever given me. Both hands sliding across my back, lips pressed to the top of my head, heartbeat pounding against my cheek.

“You’re pregnant,” he whispered, like he was still trying to convince himself it was real.

I nodded into his chest. “You’re gonna be a dad.”

His arms tightened.

And then he sank- all the way to the kitchen floor, dragging me with him into his lap, his face buried in my neck.

I felt his shoulders shaking.

Tears.

So I just held him, stroking the back of his head, our bodies curled up in the warmth of the moment.

After a long pause, he pulled back just enough to look at me.

“You’re really okay?”

“I’m okay,” I promised. “I think I’m still processing. But it feels… right.”

He smiled, eyes glassy.

Then, through a thick whisper: “I love you so much.”

“I love you more.”

He kissed me.

And I swear I felt the baby flutter even then- not physically, not really- but something inside me shifted.

Like they already knew their dad loved them.

═══════

jungkook’s pov:

I’d heard music all my life.

Rhythms, melodies, the hum of sound stitched into memory. I’d fallen asleep to her laugh, woken up to the hush of waves, written whole songs inspired by the way her voice cracked when she cried.

But nothing - nothing - prepared me for the sound of our baby’s heartbeat.

It came like thunder in a forest. Fast, fluttery, fierce.

I didn’t expect that.

I didn’t expect them to sound so alive.

Y/N laid on the table beside me, her shirt rolled up, hand in mine. She was nervous, I could feel it in the way her thumb rubbed small circles against my palm but she smiled through it. Always trying to keep me steady.

lower belly, pressing gently. Then-

whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh

I forgot how to breathe.

“Is that- ” I asked, eyes wide, voice cracking.

The tech smiled. “That’s your baby.”

Tears flooded my eyes instantly. I didn’t even try to stop them.

Because that sound?

That was ours.

That was life.

═══════

We walked out of the clinic in silence, fingers laced.

Y/N squeezed my hand when we reached the car. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said.

She knew I was lying.

I kissed her forehead before helping her into the passenger seat, and we rode home without much conversation. The hum of the engine filled in the quiet between us, but she never let go of my hand.

When we got back, I walked her inside, helped her out of her shoes, and made sure she was comfortable on the couch. Bam curled up immediately beside her, like he could sense she needed something to anchor her.

“I’ll be right back,” I mumbled, brushing hair from her face.

She looked up at me- no questions, just trust. She nodded softly, resting her hand over her belly.

She always knew when to let me breathe.

═══════

I sat in the car alone for a few minutes after.

Hands on the steering wheel.

The silence after that heartbeat felt… loud.

And my heart was racing again but not in the good way.

I’d promised myself this life would be different. That this time, I’d get to keep everything. That the tragedy was behind us.

But fear doesn’t listen to vows.

Fear has its own heartbeat.

And mine was pounding.

═══════

I pulled into a small park and called Taehyung.

He answered on the second ring.

“What’s up, bro?”

“Are you busy?”

“Not really. Why? You sound… weird.”

“I just…” I swallowed hard. “Can I come by?”

═══════

We sat on Taehyung’s back porch with two beers neither of us touched.

I stared at my hands.

“She’s twelve weeks,” I said. “We heard the heartbeat today.”

Taehyung smiled. “That’s incredible.”

“It is,” I said. “It’s… everything.”

A beat.

“But?”

“I’m scared, man.”

He looked at me carefully. “Of what?”

“Of losing it.”

My voice cracked.

I kept going anyway.

“Of getting too comfortable. Of thinking this life is ours and waking up in another one. Of making promises I can’t keep.”

Taehyung didn’t speak right away.

Then he leaned forward and said, “You’re not in that timeline anymore.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

I looked at him.

He softened. “Look, I’ve seen you crawl through hell to find her. I watched you fall apart when she didn’t remember. I saw the way you didn’t stop even when it felt impossible.”

He paused.

“So yeah, maybe the fear never fully goes away. But you? You’re not the man who lost everything anymore. You’re the man who built everything back.”

I swallowed hard.

“You’re allowed to be happy, Jungkook.”

I nodded slowly, eyes burning.

“And,” he added, “you’re gonna be a great dad.”

═══════

That night, I came home to find Y/N on the couch, one hand cradling her small, growing bump, the other petting Bam, who’d refused to leave her side all evening.

She looked up and smiled.

“You okay now?”

I crossed the room and knelt in front of her.

Placed both hands on her belly.

And kissed it gently.

“I heard our baby today,” I whispered.

She ran her fingers through my hair.

“I know.”

I looked up at her.

“I’m scared,” I admitted. “But I’m more in love than I’ve ever been.”

“I know that too.”

And then, with everything I had in me, I whispered:

“I’ll protect you both. Always.”

═══════

y/n’s pov:

It started with paint swatches.

Then Pinterest boards. Then mood lighting. Then something Jungkook called “highly dangerous nesting mode” when I dragged him to a vintage furniture market at seven in the morning.

But it was never really about the crib or the color of the walls.

It was about making space for someone we hadn’t met yet, someone who was already turning our world into something quieter, softer, deeper.

The nursery had once been our spare room, home to Bam’s ridiculous collection of toys and random boxes we still hadn’t unpacked since moving in.

Now it was becoming the room.

The place we’d rock them to sleep.

Read them bedtime stories.

Whisper to them: you’re safe here.

═══════

I sat in the middle of the room one afternoon, belly huge, surrounded by folded onesies and little socks the size of my thumb, holding a pen above a blank page.

I wasn’t writing a list.

I was writing a letter.

I don’t know why. I just… needed to talk to them. Even if they couldn’t hear me yet.

Dear Baby, You don’t have a name yet. Not officially. But in my dreams, you’re already real. In my body, you already exist. In your father’s eyes, you are already loved. You are the first thing we’ve created together. The first piece of our story that belongs only to this life. You were born from lifetimes of love, from dreams and storms and soul-bonded memories. From tears, and healing, and holding on when everything said let go. We don’t know who you’ll be yet. But we know one thing: You are already ours. And we’ve waited forever to meet you. Love, Mom

A knock at the door pulled me from the letter.

Nayeon walked in, holding iced lavender tea and a bag of bakery cookies.

“You’re crying and writing again?” she teased, already setting everything down and plopping onto the rug beside me.

“Every time I fold baby socks, I get overwhelmed,” I admitted.

She grabbed a pair, holding them in the air. “I mean, this is criminally cute.”

I smiled, grateful.

She leaned her head on my shoulder.

“You scared?”

I nodded. “More than I thought I’d be.”

“It’s okay to be,” she said quietly. “Doesn’t mean you’re not ready.”

“I know.” I looked at her. “How do I… keep who I am, once I become someone’s mom?”

She looked at me for a long time.

Then said: “You don’t lose who you are. You expand it.”

I didn’t realize how much I needed that.

We sat together, sipping tea, surrounded by baby things and love and light.

And I knew this room wasn’t just a nursery.

It was the heart of our home, waiting to beat.

═══════

jungkook’s pov:

The storm rolled in around 2AM.

It started slow- a low rumble in the sky, a flicker of light in the distance. I thought it was just spring being dramatic. I didn’t even sit up in bed.

But then Y/N’s hand clutched mine under the covers, tight and trembling.

I turned toward her, bleary-eyed.

“You okay?” I whispered.

She didn’t say anything right away.

Then, very softly: “I think it’s time.”

I sat up so fast I nearly flipped off the mattress. “Time time?”

She nodded, wincing through another wave of pressure.

Lightning flashed outside the window.

Bam barked once and then went completely still.

“Okay,” I breathed. “Okay. We’re good. We trained for this. You’re good. We’re good.”

“I think my water broke.”

I looked down at the sheets.

Confirmed.

“Cool, cool, cool,” I said, way too fast. “I’m not panicking.”

“You’re panicking.”

“I’m calm-panicking.”

She laughed, even through the pain.

God, I loved her.

═══════

We got to the hospital just as the sky opened up.

Rain hammered the windows, thunder cracked through the clouds. Nurses moved around us like clockwork while I held Y/N’s hand through every contraction.

She was so strong. Fierce. Glowing even in pain.

And I was useless.

“I fucking hate you for doing this to me,” she hissed at one point.

“You’re doing amazing, baby,” I whispered, wiping sweat from her forehead.

“If you say one more fucking motivational Pinterest quote, I’ll kill you.”

“Fair.”

We’d waited our whole lives for this.

And suddenly, it was now.

═══════

Ten hours.

That’s how long it took before I heard the cry.

Ten hours of pacing, squeezing her hand, watching the monitors, whispering, begging, loving her through every second.

And then-

A sound that shattered everything and rebuilt it in the same breath.

Our daughter.

Our child.

Tiny. Wailing. Alive.

They placed her in Y/N’s arms, and I swear the storm outside stopped just to listen.

Y/N sobbed as she kissed the baby’s forehead.

I didn’t realize I was crying too until I tasted salt.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to her temple.

“You did it,” I whispered. “You’re a fucking goddess.”

“She’s so little,” she said, laughing and crying at the same time.

“She’s perfect.”

And when they finally placed her in my arms…

When I looked down at that tiny face with her mama’s nose and a tuft of black hair…

All I could say, through the lump in my throat and the ache in my chest, was:

“Hi, angel. We’ve been waiting so long for you.”

═══════

y/n’s pov:

The house was quiet.

Not silent, not anymore. But quiet in the way that meant peace.

A lullaby played softly through the baby monitor. The faint hum of the washing machine droned in the distance. Rain tapped lightly against the windowpane, as if trying not to wake the sleeping miracle in the next room.

I stood in the doorway of the nursery, one hand resting against the frame, the other cradling a cup of tea gone cold.

She’d just fallen asleep.

And Jungkook had, too.

They were curled up together in the armchair — his arms around her tiny swaddled body, her cheek against his chest like she knew him already.

And maybe she did.

Maybe some part of her had waited through the same lifetimes we did, just to find her way here.

She’d just fallen asleep.

And Jungkook had, too.

They were curled up together in the armchair- his arms around her tiny swaddled body, her cheek against his chest like she knew him already.

And maybe she did.

Maybe some part of her had waited through the same lifetimes we did, just to find her way here.

I didn’t walk in right away.

I just watched them.

Jungkook’s head was tilted back, mouth slightly open, face softened by sleep. The baby’s hand peeked out of her wrap, fingers barely curled, resting against the curve of his arm like she’d chosen him.

And of course she had.

Because he was made for this.

For love.

For peace.

For us.

═══════

I sat down gently on the rug in front of them and let myself feel everything.

The weight of what we’d survived.

The lives we’d lost.

The memories we weren’t meant to carry, and the ones we fought to keep.

I touched my belly out of instinct, still adjusting to the space where she used to be.

Still adjusting to the now.

I looked at them again- my husband, my daughter.

And I realized something I’d never put into words before:

Love didn’t save us.

We saved each other.

By remembering.

By staying.

By showing up every day, even when we didn’t know if the world would let us keep what we had.

We weren’t perfect.

But we were home.

═══════

When Jungkook stirred, his eyes opened slow.

He blinked at me, then looked down at the baby.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” I whispered back.

He looked around the room, still groggy, then met my gaze again. “Did I miss anything?”

I shook my head. “You were exactly where you were supposed to be.”

He kissed her forehead.

Then looked at me and said, “So were you.”

I leaned my head against the chair, heart full.

And I thought about what it means to live after the storm.

Not just to survive it. But to build something out of the wreckage. To take all the versions of yourself and love the one that remains.

Because this was it.

This was the life the universe gave us when we finally stopped running.

This was the answer to every lost dream, every second chance, every quiet prayer.

This was our beginning.

═══════

Mi-rae’s giggle could part the sea.

That kind of laughter- it didn’t just ring in your ears. It echoed in your chest, curled up in your ribs like it planned to stay.

She was running. Well, trying to. Legs still wobbly in the sand, her tiny sunhat lopsided, cheeks pink with heat. She flung her arms like wings, chasing nothing and everything while Jungkook trailed after her like a lovesick bodyguard.

“She’s just like you,” I called from the picnic blanket.

“Beautiful?” he yelled back.

“Chaotic!”

He spun her around in his arms, both of them laughing now, and she let out a shriek that made Bam bark twice before collapsing into the sand beside me, tail thumping.

Our daughter.

Our dog.

Our life.

On this beach- the cove where he proposed, where we promised forever barefoot in the sun.

Now we were back.

Only this time, there were three of us.

We spent the morning doing nothing in particular.

Mi-rae crawled through piles of damp sand with a pink shovel she kept chewing on, while Jungkook built a very serious moat around what might’ve been a castle. I sat cross-legged with a peach and a journal in my lap, watching the two of them exist like they’d always known each other.

“She’s not even one and already you’re building fortresses for her,” I teased.

Jungkook looked up, grinning. “She deserves a kingdom.”

I smiled, heart full.

He really meant it.

═══════

The sun climbed higher, and after laying out lunch beneath the driftwood arch where we once exchanged vows, I pulled Mi-rae into my lap for her mid-day feeding. She nestled against my chest instantly, warm and soft and so completely ours.

It was always quiet when she nursed.

Even the ocean seemed to hush.

Jungkook laid beside us, propped on one elbow, sipping water- until he wasn’t sipping anymore.

He was staring.

“Don’t,” I said, knowing that look.

“What?”

“You’re being weird.”

“I’m in awe,” he murmured.

“You’re ogling my boobs.”

“I’m worshipping,” he corrected.

I gave him a flat look.

He leaned closer, voice low. “They’re just… you know. Out. Glowing. Feeding the next generation. Heroic.”

“Heroic,” I echoed, laughing quietly.

“And kind of- ” his eyes dipped, “hot.”

“Jungkook.”

“I mean, what do you expect me to do when my wife whips out the most beautiful pair of tits I’ve ever seen and uses them to sustain life like it’s casual?”

I blinked. “The most romantic thing you’ve ever said.”

“I’m serious,” he said, brushing a hand down my thigh. “You’re everything.”

When Mi-rae finished and tucked into my side, I adjusted my top. Jungkook watched every movement like he was starving.

“You’re drooling.”

“Only a little.”

═══════

The rest of the day blurred into color- pink skies, orange light, salt-stung kisses. We dipped Mi-rae’s toes in the water, let her fall asleep against Jungkook’s chest while we laid under an umbrella watching the tide.

“This was the best idea,” I murmured.

“She deserves to see where it all began.”

“Us?”

He nodded, pressing his nose into my hair. “The moment that changed everything.”

I reached for his hand and laced our fingers.

“You’ve changed me,” I said. “Every version of me is better because you existed in it.”

He looked over, and I saw it in his eyes. That softness that meant he was thinking not just about now, but about then. About everything we’d been. Everything we almost lost.

“I want you again,” he whispered.

“You have me.”

“I mean when we get home. After we put her to bed.”

His fingers drifted under the hem of my sundress.

“I want to remind you.”

“Remind me of what?”

He leaned in, lips brushing my ear.

“That you’re mine. That you still ruin me.”

My breath hitched. My thighs pressed together.

Mi-rae snorted in her sleep.

I laughed.

He smirked.

═══════

When we packed up the beach blanket and I carried our daughter back to the car, she stirred in my arms, eyelids fluttering, her hand curling around the necklace Jungkook gave me on our first anniversary.

It still had sand in the clasp.

Still smelled faintly of salt and memory.

I looked down at her, tucked against my chest.

And whispered, “You’re the best thing we’ve ever done.”

═══════

Mi-rae barely stirred when I laid her in her crib.

She sighed- one of those sleepy, content baby sounds and curled instinctively toward the warmth of the blanket. Her tiny fist held the corner of her favorite muslin cloth, and for a second I just stood there, watching.

She was perfect.

We didn’t need a lullaby. We didn’t need anything but this quiet room, this soft glow of motherhood.

I kissed her forehead, tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear, and whispered, “Goodnight, my girl.”

Then I left the door cracked, just the way she liked it.

═══════

The house was dim and still.

Bam was already asleep at the edge of the hallway, one paw tucked under his chin. The beach bag sat in the laundry room waiting to be unpacked. I knew I should’ve started a load of towels.

But I also knew what - who - was waiting for me.

When I turned the corner into the living room, I found him exactly where I knew he’d be.

Sprawled shirtless across the couch. Sweatpants. No shirt. Hair tousled. Eyes hooded.

And the look?

Hungry.

“You took your time,” he murmured.

“I was putting your daughter to sleep.”

He sat up slowly, muscles flexing with the movement. “She’s lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“She got you first tonight.”

I blinked, heat sparking instantly.

He didn’t say another word.

Just patted the couch.

I stepped closer, feeling the weight of him already, the gravity that always pulled me back.

“You’ve been staring at me all day like you were starving,” I said.

“I am.”

He grabbed my hand and tugged me toward him. I stumbled into his lap, legs straddling his hips before I could say no- not that I wanted to.

His hands slipped under my dress, slow and warm. “Do you know how crazy it makes me,” he whispered, lips brushing my throat, “watching you feed our baby? Knowing your body’s already full of magic and still mine?”

“Jungkook- ”

His hands gripped my thighs, his touch sending shivers up my spine. His lips brushed against my neck, sending a jolt of desire straight to my core.

“You have no idea,” he groaned. “You make me wild, Y/N. Soft and desperate at the same time.”

My head fell back, exposing the sensitive curve of my neck to his kisses. His hands tightened on my thighs, his touch both possessive and tender. A hunger ignited within me, a familiar ache that only he could mend.

“What do you want,” I breathed.

“You,” he growled, his lips brushing against my ear. “Right here, baby.”

His words sent a surge of heat through me. I didn't need to say anything else. The desire between us was a tangible thing, a force pulling us closer.

The world beyond the living room faded away. There was only Jungkook, his touch, his scent, the heat of his body against mine.

My dress, a flimsy barrier against our desire, was peeled away, discarded like a forgotten secret. His sweatpants followed, kicked aside with impatient urgency.

We sank into the cushions, skin meeting skin, a symphony of heat and longing.

His lips found mine, hungry and demanding, yet somehow gentle. His tongue traced the contours of my mouth, a silent promise of pleasures to come. His hands roamed, mapping the curves of my body, remembering every dip and swell as if they were etched into his memory.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against my lips, his voice thick with desire.

I shivered at his words, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His kisses were a language I understood perfectly, a dialect of passion and need.

Then, with a sudden shift, I found myself on my knees before him, his hardness throbbing against my lips. I looked up at him, my eyes reflecting the desire burning in his. He watched me with a mixture of awe and hunger, his hand gently cupping my cheek.

I took him into my mouth, my lips wrapping around him, my tongue swirling, tasting him. He groaned, his head falling back, his fingers threading through my hair, guiding me gently.

"Fuck, baby," he breathed, his voice rough with pleasure. "You're going to make me lose it."

I hummed around him, my eyes fluttering closed as I focused on the sensation of his skin against my lips, the pulse of his desire against my tongue.

But then, with a gentle hand on my shoulder, he pulled me away, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made my heart ache.

"Hold on," he whispered, helping me up. "I want to taste you first."

He laid me down on the couch, his fingers tracing the curves of my body, his lips following their path. His kisses were slow, deliberate, a worshipful exploration of every inch of me.

When his mouth finally found the dripping cunt, I gasped, my body arching off the couch. His tongue was a maestro, conducting an orchestra of pleasure within me.

He knew exactly where to touch, where to lick, where to suck, driving me closer and closer to the edge.

"Jungkook," I moaned, my fingers digging into the cushions, my body tense with anticipation.

"Let go," he murmured against my skin, his breath hot and moist. "Let me feel you."

And then, with a cry that was equal parts pleasure and surrender, I shattered, my body trembling as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over me.

Jungkook’s lips never left me, his tongue continuing its gentle dance even as my body stilled. When he finally looked up, his eyes were dark with desire, his lips swollen from kissing me.

"I want you now," he said, his voice hoarse.

He positioned himself above me, his eyes locked onto mine, his hardness pressing against my entrance. He entered me slowly, filling me completely, our breaths mingling as he began to move.

It was slow, deliberate, each thrust a declaration of love, each whisper a promise of forever.

"I love you," he murmured, his lips brushing against mine.

"I love you too," I replied, my fingers digging into his shoulders, my body moving with his, our rhythms perfectly synchronized.

His hands gripped my thighs, his fingers digging into my skin as he moved deeper, his rhythm steady and intoxicating. I wrapped my legs around him, my nails scraping his back as I met his pace, our bodies moving in perfect harmony.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against mine. “So fucking good.”

His words were like fuel, igniting a fire within me. I tilted my head back, exposing my neck, and he took the invitation, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of sensations that made me arch into him.

His hands moved to my breasts, his thumbs brushing my nipples as he thrust into me, his movements growing more urgent but never losing their tenderness.

“Jungkook,” I whispered, my voice breaking as the pleasure built. “I’m close.”

“Me too,” he rasped, his voice strained. “Cum with me, baby. Let go.”

He moved inside me like he’d waited lifetimes for this version of us.

And maybe he had.

The world outside ceased to exist. There was only Jungkook, his body moving within mine, the heat of our passion, the whispered declarations of love.

And then, together, we crested, our cries intertwining as we found release, our bodies trembling in the aftermath of our shared ecstasy.

═══════

Afterward, I laid against him, chest rising slowly, heart still thudding in my ears.

My thigh draped across his hip. His hand pressed softly to the curve of my lower back. We were still catching our breath, but there was no urgency left between us- only that hush that follows something holy.

His hands never stopped moving.

Slow strokes down my spine.

Gentle lines traced along my arm. His fingers brushed the swell of my hip like he was relearning me all over again- reverent, unhurried, present. Like if he stopped touching me, he might forget I was real.

“I’ll never get used to you,” he whispered.

I smiled into his chest, nose nuzzled just beneath his collarbone.

“You don’t have to,” I murmured. “You just have to keep choosing me.”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

He just held me tighter.

Our limbs tangled. Our breath syncing. The room still warm from us, from the quiet ache of want turned into worship.

From love.

From home.

═══════

Outside, the rain started again. Soft at first, then steadier, like the sky was remembering something.

Inside, everything stilled.

Bam shifted in the hallway with a low sigh. The baby monitor hummed in the background, steady and calm.

Jungkook’s breath moved through my hair as he kissed the top of my head. His arm wrapped tighter around me, his palm flat over the curve of my waist like he was anchoring us both to the moment.

We didn’t speak.

We didn’t need to.

Because nothing had ever felt this whole.

I pressed my lips to his chest, right above his heart, and closed my eyes.

And in the hush that followed, I whispered into the silence between us-

We lived.

We loved.

And now, we begin again.

═══════

Post-A/N: did this live up to expectations? was this a good ending for them? 🥺 this is definitely their last big story but i’m always open to ideas for drabbles. tysm for loving them as much as i do and for reading their story 🫶

ANOTHER TIME ♡ LINK TO ASK ♡ MASTERLIST

♡ requests are welcome ♡ taglist ♡

These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.

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Posted: 06/22/2025

Taglist: @rinkud @kelsyx33 @army7-013 @jungshaking @battlingmyowndemons @Strxqrd1 @mar-lo-pap @lovingkoalaface @whoa-jo @kiliskywalker666 @sucker4jeon @annpeachy-blog @kaiparkerwifes @nikkinikj @elithenium @asyr97 @heyinwluv85s @jjkluver7 @bammbi-jeon127 @kookoo-kachoo @angelsdecalcomania @kayswatanabe @granataepfelchen @kelsyx33 @tatamicc @blubird592 @llallaaa @chromietriestowrite @k1ll1ngcl0wns @jahnaviii @mfsitscho

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