#not that bells or the kids would hold that against him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

batterygarden · 2 months

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love is in the air . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

contents: big bro! yuuta x fem & afab reader, dead dove do not eat, sex pollen, incest, virginity loss (reader), drugged sex vibes, unprotected sex w cream pies, size kink w slight pain, oral f!receiving, overstimulation, dacryphilia, 3.2 k words. hbd to my king

18+, minors dni please

When Yuuta’s teleported into his room, he’s horrified to see you already there.

You’re wearing his clothes, as per usual, and flopped across his bed while you do your homework—likely waiting for him to get home to help you with the math. Normally, this wouldn’t be out of the ordinary; the two of you have always been close and Yuuta doesn’t mind the way you tend to loiter. The thing is, you were supposed to be out shopping with your girlfriends after class today. You’ve been talking up these plans all month–-Yuuta never imagined you’d cancel.

And here he is, high off his ass on cursed aphrodisiacs (misted straight into his lungs by some flower monster) and contemplating every forbidden fantasy in his arsenal with a newfound urgency.

You jump nearly a foot in the air when you see him, so perfectly still and silent at first that he goes unnoticed.

“Oh my god, nii-san! You scared me!”

You don’t seem to catch how off he is yet, how labored his breaths come or how he’s covered in a sheen of sweat. He wishes you would. Maybe then the proper alarm bells would be ringing and you’d leave.

Yuuta only backs away, shoving hair from his face while his eyes dart all over the room, anywhere to avoid drifting to your body and the way his t-shirt pools around it.

His fatal mistake is his failure to beeline it straight out his bedroom door. In his defense, Yuuta’s thoughts are awfully foggy, and an escape route is hard to pin down, even within his moderately-sized room. Instead he trips over a book bag and lets himself tumble backwards to the floor, his katana thunking loudly when it drops from his shoulder.

His vision and hearing are a bit foggy, too, as he watches you approach him off his bed, almost appearing to move in slow motion.

“Nii-San? What happened to you?”

He makes a strangled sound when you reach to touch his face, leaning away from your hand.

“Just lost my balance! I’m okay. Y’shouldn’t touch me right now.”

Did his words come out slurred?

You frown, letting him know the fall wasn’t what you meant when you were asking, practically pinning him against the wall to feel his forehead.

“Hmm. I can’t tell if you have a fever or you’re just hot.”

“It’s probably nothing. Was fighting a curse earlier and—achoo!“

Yuuta turns away to sneeze just as you move your head to the side to look at him closer. He accidentally sneezes directly into your face, earning a little gasp.

He scoots away frantically then.

“Sorry, sorry! I don’t wanna get you sick, okay? I need to be alone. You can leave.”

You wipe at your face, holding back a giggle at the state of him. You haven’t seen Yuuta this impaired since he had the flu when you were kids.

“Nii-san, you need me to take care of you.” Your tone is matter of fact, but doting too. Deep down you’re relishing in this role reversal—Yuuta’s always the one looking after you, not the other way around.

He starts shaking his head, rubbing tiredly at his eyes when suddenly a wave of vertigo hits you.

Then you’re tumbling to the floor with him.

Your voice sounds far away when you breathe a little woah, taking longer than you should to register what’s just happened. When you do, you turn to Yuuta—a reflex whenever you’re hurt or something goes wrong—you’ve grown spoiled by his overprotective nature. So much so that even the tiniest stumbles have you expecting a warm, calloused hand beneath your elbow, lifting and steadying you.

Yuuta takes longer than he should to come into the focus of your eyes, and when he does you find his face buried in one of his hands while his other adjusts his pants.

“Are you okay?” He sounds breathless, making no move to touch you or help. Something is seriously up.

“Mhm. I don’t know why I just…” You pause, almost forgetting what you’re even saying while your thoughts navigate a new fog. Suddenly you’re warm. “I dunno what came over me.”

Yuuta only scoots a bit farther away in response, dragging himself along the wall. To you it’s almost like he’s moving in slow motion.

“Nii-san, something is wrong. I feel wrong.”

Yuuta’s breaths come in huffs when you drag yourself to him then, nuzzling your way between his bent legs.

“M-me too… that’s why I want you to go.”

You shake your head, staring at Yuuta while he stares back, squirming and uncomfortable under your gaze. The warmth inside you is starting to grow uncomfortable—almost painful between your legs. You wonder if this is exactly how Yuuta’s feeling before you consider the possibility that he may be even worse, having been infected with whatever strange illness this is before he even arrived. He’s really working to hold out on you—what a gentleman.

In fact, you think, that might be the perfect word to describe your sweet big brother. Always looking out for you more than anyone else, Yuuta sets a bar for chivalry unattainable by any man who isn’t him.

He’s always opening your doors and offering you rides. Holding your hand to cross the street, tugging you back if you try to cross without looking and, occasionally, shoving your tangled fingers in his coat pocket if it’s chilly. He always has this protective nature when other men are involved, glaring at wandering eyes and warning you of potential danger (you recall one time he tripped some guy who asked for your number as he was walking away—he was too old for you and clearly had bad intentions).

Then there’s the way he’s thoughtful. Even when you were kids, Yuuta was always getting you gifts, setting time aside from his busy schedule to play with you or take you somewhere—forging some of your favorite memories growing up. You think particularly fondly of all your old dance recitals—how yuuta would always make time to be there and give you flowers and praise (out of all the bouquets your family supplied, his were the only ones that ever earned a spot on your night stand).

Even now you’ve got a vase of pink roses in your bedroom down the hall for passing your latest algebra test.

Yeah, Yuuta’s a chivalrous brother to a tee.

And the heat in your veins has you wishing he’d be anything but.

“Y-yuuta. I need you.” Your hands reach to pull at the open buttons of his uniform, but your wrists are quickly shackled by strong hands, gentle but unyielding.

“Do you know what you’re asking?” His voice is steady for the first time since appearing in his room, albeit a little pained.

“Yes. Yeah I do.”

You scoot closer, and Yuuta’s entire aura seems to change, darkening in a way that leaves goosebumps crawling across your flesh.

Your wrists are freed but you still feel immobilized as Yuuta grabs you carefully by the neck then, tugging your face to his till his lips can capture yours for the very first time.

You can’t deny that you’ve fantasized about kissing Yuuta, if only on the rare occasions that you loosened the reins on your self control. The kiss feels as electric and all-consuming as you’d hoped, hungry like you’re trying to swallow each other whole. His lips are a bit chapped, rougher than yours and hot in a way you’ll surely imprint into your psyche. What surprises you, though, is Yuuta’s brashness; he’s not reserved like you used to imagine he’d be if he kissed you. He’s being selfish, sucking on your lips and licking inside your mouth like you’re his—and when his teeth sink into the plump of your bottom lip you start to realize that maybe you always have been.

Yuuta’s kiss is needy and passionate, but it clearly doesn’t sate him as rough palms travel over your body throughout, kneading your sides and your arms and your thighs till you're rearranged on top of him, straddling where he needs you most.

You’re instinctually grinding down on him once you are, your insides painfully empty and sensitive so that the hard feeling of him through his pant fabric pressing against your clit is the most satisfying feeling you’ve ever had. He’s quickly grabbing at your hips to help push your core against him, and that angle of pressure paired with his attentive mouth against yours has you cumming in minutes, crying out into his mouth while he grips you harshly like a ragdoll, eventually mouthing at your jaw and throat so you can breathe again. It’s the kind of orgasm that has your senses short-circuiting, your vision going in and out of focus while your hearing turns fuzzy—it’s intense and euphoric. You feel drugged.

It’s unnatural how you’re instantly needy again once you come down, panting and light-headed but impatient when you scoot back to reach for his belt. Yuuta’s hand stops yours.

“Hang on—”

“Please! Nii-san, I can’t wait, I need you—”

“I know, let me—“ he interrupts himself to peck your lips again. You want him to never stop doing that—the satisfaction is addicting. “Let me give you head first.”

Those words knock the wind from your lungs. Because now is the first time you truly reckon with a truth you’ve been avoiding… Yuuta is experienced. You don’t know who or when (as far as you’re aware he’s never had a steady girlfriend) but the way he says those words makes it clear. Yuuta has made a woman cum. The idea brings a wave of jealousy you usually keep carefully buried—it’s an unspoken rule yuuta doesn’t mention his romantic affairs, so the reality of his sex life is something you’ve avoided.

“I’m a virgin.” The words bubble out of you uncontrollably. Yuuta chuckles just a little before giving another quick kiss.

“I know. That’s why I’m gonna go down on you.”

The effects of whatever aphrodisiac you’ve been exposed to clearly haven’t waned as Yuuta manhandles you into a position of his liking before he finishes his sentence—neither of you have gained the common sense necessary to move yourselves off the floor to Yuuta’s bed a yard away. Yuuta’s still the most aggressive you’ve ever felt him as he lays you down, trailing kisses and occasional bites down your skin till he makes his way to his own boxers that rest over your hips. You catch a little glare when he spots them, a week ago he told you to stop borrowing these—you’re my little sister! It’s not appropriate.

How ironic, he doesn’t chastise you as he yanks those very same boxers down his little sister’s legs. Then he tosses them aside—not even commenting on how you got them all messy—and instantly sets to work, lapping at your pussy like a man starved.

It isn’t an experience to be taken lightly—the first lick of your brother's tongue has you moaning like a pornstar. You have to grip the roots of Yuuta’s soft hair for stability as his mouth sends electricity through your body, pleasure radiating from your cunt all throughout you till you’re not sure you know what to do with it all. Once he latches to your clit, sucking it like a pacifier while his pretty lashes blink closed in content, you can’t help but come undone again—your orgasm intense and lasting even longer than the last time—this feeling is addicting.

Yuuta licks up as much of your release as he can when you do, then he’s quickly rising up, wiping his face with an arm before tugging off his shirt.

You feel like the luckiest sister in the universe when you finally come back to earth to watch him, his sculpted body glistening in sweat as he reveals more and more skin—all for you.

Yuuta’s pants are tugged off next, but not all the way. He gets impatient once they’re low enough for his cock to be freed, stroking it shamelessly, coating it in the mess he made from cumming in his pants.

Your eyes go wide when you see his size.

“S-sorry I know t’s a lot. Are you doing okay?”

There’s a silent but in there, an unspoken i still need more.

You nod quickly, spreading your bent legs so he has full access—it’s true that you’ve cum hard enough twice to pass out for days, but your body is insatiable. Yuuta’s cock is what it truly wants; you won’t—can’t—rest till you get it.

Yuuta’s wasting no time—clearly as needy for you as you are for him. He’s already leaning over you, running his tip through your folds before you can find the desperate words to reply, “Need you inside me, Yuu.”

That’s as much confirmation as Yuuta needs before he thrusts, stretching your virgin hole till it molds to fit him. There’s a pinch, a sting that pricks tears in your eyes as you accommodate his thick girth, but it’s replaced by the pure relief of him in a matter of seconds. You whine when he bottoms out, your body clenching and grinding towards him of its own volition—again, you’re insatiable. Luckily Yuuta seems to be on the same page as he quickly pulls almost completely out of you, earning a louder whine before slamming back in, hitting a deep, warm spot that has your vision blurring.

It’s ruthless and mean the way he starts beating your cunt then—you can’t help but contrast it to the way Yuuta rocked you in his lap just a night ago to soothe you through a scary thunderstorm. This man, the one snapping his hips against your hole with bruising force and no breaks, is a different man completely.

You want to meet him halfway, to contribute to creating the absolute bliss that his cock quickly brings you, but your body can hardly keep up once Yuuta gets going. He’s so fast and strong, the most you can do is lay there and take it, clawing at his shoulders and back in a way that matches his animalistic energy.

Maybe a minute is all it takes before your body comes undone around Yuuta’s cock. Almost too eagerly and certainly the fastest you’ve ever cum before—it would be embarrassing if it weren’t for Yuuta’s loud, wanton moan at the feel of it.

“F-fuck your pussy’s too tight! Why does it feel so—ngh good—“ Yuuta fills you up for the first time then, flooding your insides with his creamy seed before you even finish twitching from your own release. The heat of your big brother’s cum in your tummy is irreplaceable—you fall in love with the feeling and don’t want it ever to leave.

Luckily Yuuta’s not done, he’s still hard even after he pumps you full, and his movements don’t relent, in fact it almost feels like he’s fucking you deeper.

“Y-yuuta it’s so much…” you manage to say through the stuffed sensation that reaches your throat.

You’re still crazy with want, you feel like you’d die if he stopped, and yet your mysterious sex-craze does nothing to counteract the overstimulation.

“‘M sorry, ‘m really sorry I can’t stop,” Yuuta pries your weak legs up while he talks, folding you up in a mating press. You don’t have the words to reassure him that it’s fine, that you need this, because then you’re coming undone again, throbbing wildly on Yuuta’s cock while your eyes roll back in your head. Yuuta cums with you shortly after, and something in you rejoices that he’s filling you with more of himself—that he’s irreversibly spilling into your most intimate parts.

He pulls out after that, and your legs go limp—all of you lifeless except your twitching, leaking cunt. It’s a good thing Yuuta’s still needy though, because even if your legs lack the strength to hold him, your insides are devastated by the lack of him—it’s wrong that he’s not still inside you.

“Yuuta—“ you start to protest before he’s manhandling you, dragging you till you’re half draped across his bed, shoving your school books and pencils out of the way. It’s like you’re partially standing, bent forward with your tummy against the mattress, but you let your legs dangle limply while you lay, unable to hold yourself.

“I know pretty,” he replies, spreading your messy thighs and cunt before shoving himself back inside you, “can’t be done.”

The sound his cock makes is obscene as it spreads you open again, paired with the whine you let out at the sensitive feeling mixed with relief. The new angle yuuta reaches makes you feel stuffed all the way to your chest.

Yuuta doesn’t waste time before he’s pumping into you as relentlessly as before, pulling easy orgasms from you again and again till your hips are bruised from his hands and his comforter is soaked with your tears and snot and cum.

Yuuta’s crying too by the time he cums a final time, gasping and whining while he fills you with what feels like his entire remaining life force, eventually using the last of his energy to pull out with a wince and collapse on the bed, pulling you up so you’re all the way on the bed next to him. You both lose consciousness finally.

When Yuuta wakes he’s under unusual covers, and finds his vision illuminated by a pink night light—it takes him a minute to recognize that he’s in your room.

But he’s still naked. He sits up with a gasp, reaching for you as the events of evening come flooding back to him, but you’re nowhere to be found—he realizes you must have coaxed him in here for some reason then left. The clock beside him reads five in the morning, but considering how early the two of you passed out the night before, it’s not surprising you’d clearly already woken.

Yuuta sips from a cup of water on your nightstand, then finds a used bath towel you’ve got hooked on your door and wraps it around his hips, venturing dizzily out into the apartment.

He hears the laundry machine going, and passes his room to find his bed stripped of sheets, the mess from your school supplies cleaned up.

Then he finds you in the kitchen with wet hair, clean clothes and an apron, flipping pancakes.

You look delighted when you see him—more than usual—with a sweet smile and giant pupils.

“Yuuta! Made you breakfast.” You say making your way to him.

Not that Yuuta’s had much time to think on it, (he wasn’t worrying over his future when your tight pussy was milking his drugged senses yesterday, that’s for sure), but in the back of his mind, he was sure that fucking you would have irreparable effects on your relationship. You’d always love each other, of that much he was certain—you had a mutual trust in that department for sure. But he was also sure things would be awkward, maybe you’d need space at first and wouldn’t look at him the same.

But then you hop your way over to him once he walks into the kitchen, rubbing hands up his bare chest before locking your arms behind his neck, reaching up on tiptoes to kiss his lips. And it’s not just a peck, either. And the curse’s aphrodisiacs have worn off.

And maybe, the irreparable effects from last night aren’t going to be so awkward after all.

#yuuta x reader #jjk x reader #yuuta smut #jjk smut #yuta x reader #yuta x y/n #🐞 writes #tw.incest #tw.sex pollen #tw.drugged sex #🐞 q

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revasserium · 4 months

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waiting for winter (我期待的不是雪)

zayne; 1,616 words; fluff, pining, gn!reader, no "y/n", spoilers for lads ch.4, whipped!zayne

summary: he has never loved the winter

a/n: yes, this was inspired by that one chinese tiktok song. no, i will not elaborate.

He has never loved the winter.

But he remembers the first time he watched the snow fall reflected in your eyes �� your cheeks kissed pink by the unforgiving wind, the sky a smear of white as the cold sunk into his bones. He remembers the silver bell ring of your laughter as you’d dragged him by the hand out to build a snowman, the look on your face when he’d remarked that your snowman’s nose was crooked because there were no carrots at the corner store so you’d had to make do with a potato instead.

“Look! It’s snowing!”

Zayne shakes himself into the present, glancing out of his office window at the cotton-soft flurries spinning by his windows. Across from him, you’re sitting with a muffler thrown haphazardly around your shoulders, watching the snow with an open, child-like wonder that makes his entire chest twist tight with —

He clears his throat.

“All the more reason for you to be careful — make sure to bundle up when you go outside,” he says, dropping his eyes back to your most recent health report.

You’re not sleeping enough, and your vitamin D levels are lower than he’d like. He’d hoped that becoming a Hunter would at least expose you to a decent amount of sun but then again, you had told him that Jenna’s been keeping tight reigns on you since the explosion.

“Yeah, yeah — I’ll be careful.”

He looks up, his eyes dark as he looks over the shape of you, fingers curled in your lap as you look up at him from beneath your lashes. He holds your gaze and fights to keep his expression neutral as you blush and look away, somehow reverting back to a much younger version of you — the memory of it superimposed upon the look of you now.

“You’re just as bossy as you were back then,” you say, sighing as you shrug up your shoulders like a scolded child.

Zayne scoffs, affording himself a small laugh, “Except I have a doctorate to back it up now, don’t I?”

You pout, pursing your lips. Zayne wonders, for the millionth time that day, how soft they might be beneath his own.

“I liked you better before you got your fancy creds,” you say, still pouting.

Zayne sighs, flicking off his tablet and putting it down on the table.

“Alright, what do you want?”

You blink up at him, eyes wide enough to convince anyone else of your innocence. But he knows better. He’s always known better.

“What do you mean?”

He ticks his tongue against his teeth and leans back in his chair, checking his watch.

“It’s almost lunchtime — c’mon.”

He pushes up from his desk and tugs his doctor’s coat from his shoulders, rolling them loose of the tightness that had gathered there all morning.

“Huh?”

He rounds his desk and tugs his winter coat from the back of the door, turning to fix you with a look.

“The noodle shop around the corner has your favorite as a lunch special.”

He counts down from five in his head — four, three, two —

“Really?” your face breaks into a grin wide enough to split your face. He chuckles.

“Yes, really. Are you coming?”

You stare for a second longer before leaping to your feet and bounding to his side. He reaches out to adjust your muffler, tying it tighter over the front of your chest, swatting your hand away when you try to loosen it.

“I’m going to choke!”

“Better that than for you to get sick again.”

He tugs open the door and watches you walk into the hallway, a bounce to your step that he hasn’t seen since you were both kids and he’d promised you he’d buy you sweets on the way home from school.

“How’re you so sure that the lunch specials gonna be my favorite?” you ask, pivoting on your heels and fixing him with a look, halfway down the white-washed hospital halls. Zayne takes his time buttoning up his own coat and locking his office door behind him.

“Because,” he says, voice steady as he strolls by you, glancing down with the shadow of a smile crimping his lips —

“I know you.”

* * *

He has never loved the winter.

But, he thinks as he watches you slurp down a bowl of wide-cut noodles, your cheeks flushed red with joy, he might just learn to love a winter like this.

You don’t question it when he reaches out to swipe at the corner of your mouth with this thumb, licking off the excess with a contemplative hm. But he revels in the way you swallow and blush and look away.

He wonders if you know.

He wonders if you know that you haunt him like the cold haunts him on the nights when he’s alone. He wonders if you see him the way he sees you, cast behind his eyelids like the frames of an old film whenever he closes his eyes, your smile more familiar to him than his own.

“Full?” he asks, watching as you wipe your mouth on a bit of napkin, lips stained red by the chili sauce.

“Mhm!” you nod, smiling up at him.

The noodle shop smells of chicken stock and green onions and the sharp dampness of snow on winter coats. You push the noodle bowl away and stare down at your hands.

“Are you — I mean… you have to go back to work, right?”

He can’t help but notice the note of reluctance in your voice, the way you look up at him as if hoping he’ll say no. He nods, folding his napkin into halves, and then forths. Outside, the sun is already falling toward the far horizon, casting everything in a goldenrod glow. Shadows fall long and sure along the pavement and Zayne doesn’t want to think about the endless hours of darkness ahead.

“Are you going home after this?” he asks, nodding stiffly to the waiter as he hands over his card, wordlessly pushing your hand away as you make a feeble attempt to try and snatch the receipt.

“I… was thinking about going to see a movie,” you say, thumbing at a stray thread along the edge of your coat. He watches you tug at it for a while before reaching out to take your hand in his.

“Go home,” he says, his voice level.

Your brow creases in a slight frown as you look up.

“But… I wanted to see —”

“We’ll see it this weekend,” he says, giving your hand a quick squeeze before letting go, thanking the waiter as he takes back his card and scribbles his signature on the receipt.

“We will?” you ask, blinking up at him as he stands up.

“Yes. It’s showing Saturday at 2:30 — we can get lunch before, or dinner after.”

He’s tugging on his coat when you reach up to loop his scarf around his neck, standing too close, so close he can smell the caramel milk and whipped cream of your skin. He fights down the shivers that threaten to shake down his spine as he goes still, waiting as you tuck his scarf securely around his neck.

“You never tie your scarf right,” you say, dropping back down onto your heels even as you shoulder on your own coat, cheeks dusted the most darling shade of pink Zayne has ever seen. As he watches you, he thinks it might just put the winter sun to shame.

He thinks he might thank you, or he might just bend down and kiss you — he’s uncertain all the way till you make it outside and you turn to smile up at him. And like this, with the dying sun caressing the edge of your cheek, the line of your jaw, you are nothing short of ethereal.

Zayne reaches forward, his thumb and forefinger catching your chin as he leans down.

Your gasp is little more than a hiccup of breath —

“Don’t be late,” he says, stopping mere inches from your lips, whispering the words against where your lips might be if he were a little more daring.

You hold perfectly still, your eyes round as you stare up at him, searching his face for… something — anything.

When he pulls back, he thinks you almost make to chase him. But you let his fingers drop from your skin and you tug at your muffler, toeing at the slushed-up snow on the sidewalk.

“Winter’s my favorite season, y’know,” you say. And Zayne doesn’t dare to hope. But he does — he watches you out of the corner of his eyes. Above you, all around you, the afternoon sun flickers and fades, a daytime aurora, like tendrils of some long-gone magic, coaxing willing believers toward their untimely doom.

“Hn,” he says, not trusting himself with more. He waits; you take a long breath before turning to look at him.

“You wanna know why?” you ask. And finally, finally he turns to you, his eyes catching your eyes — and in them, he sees the twisting colors of the sky reflected there, serpentine and sinuous. Ancient and inexorable. Reds and yellows, pinks and purples, bleeding into an endless, endless winter blue.

He wets his lips and swallows hard, “Why?”

You smile, and it is like the first glimmer of sun after an arctic winter’s night, and he can’t breathe for the sight of it.

“Because… it reminds me of you.”

lads requests r.... open lol

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etheries1015 · 5 months

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Bestie yk that Yuu begins their friendship with Malmal because sir was roaming around old buildings right? Imagine Yuu starting a friendship with Malmal simply because of boredom. Class was soooo boring so Yuu decided to just chat with the person near them, which was Malleus.

You don't care if he's the next king of Briar Valley, if you're bored then entertainment is THE priority.

YES I LOVE THIS OSDLFSHEESFLS what better entertainment than the Fae prince himself?

Imagine You, sitting at your desk listening to another long and strenuous lecture that had not managed to keep your attention, doodling not even being able to satiate your boredem. So, what's the next best thing? Bother your deskmate, of course. You noticed him a few times; a rather tall fellow with long black horns and eyes as captivating as pure emeralds and ears pointed unlike a typical human. You always thought perhaps he had an affinity for theatrics- the way he seldom spoke up. At times you thought he hadn't even been a student at the school- the teachers never seemed to call his name during roll call (Of course it was because everybody already knew the esteemed prince of the land of faeries.) You know what they say, right? Always befriend and be nice to the quiet kid in school. So, out of boredom and curiosity, You tapped his shoulder.

"Hey," You whispered, The tall man with pointed ears started at the sudden contact before turning his head to look at you peculiarly. Without as much as an answer, you began to ask your question.

"Are those real? Your horns?" He seemed to pout at this only for a split second before confusion and offense seemed to mix into his (rather beautiful) features. He tilted his head before seemingly deciding on something in his mind, leaning over to take another look at you.

"Is that a genuine question, child of man? Are you, what they say, 'pulling my leg'?" He asked. You almost laughed at loud at the pompous way of speech he took on, and immediately knew you would be thoroughly entertained by this man. You found it...almost incredibly attractive, the way his silky deep voice spoke in a victorian royalty kind of way. You let out a quiet chuckle and with a raised eyebrow you leaned against your desk with a hand propping up your head as your elbow lay firm against the wood.

"Well, as far as I'm aware I'm as genuine as one can be," You smiled, "I'm (y/n), what's your name?" Another question that colored him mildly bewildered yet incredibly inquisitive at your pure ignorance of who you sat next to. Malleus opened his mouth to answer, yet found himself closing it a couple times while contemplating revealing the truth. Perhaps this person was genuinely in the dark about his status and position, and he did not want to miss the chance to converse with someone who willingly wanted to hold relations with him. Thus, he bit his tongue and turned it into a game.

"My name doesn't matter," He said, "How about you choose one for me?" You raised both of your eyebrows and bit your bottom lip attempting to hold back a roar of laughter, you truly had found one interesting fellow to introduce yourself to.

"Alright...how about...hm..." You studied his person before snapping their fingers in revelation. "Hornton!" They said it almost too loud, and the professor quickly chastised them for speaking during the lecture. Malleus gave you a fond smile and nodded, turning back to the teacher resuming the boring lecture that took place.Your boredom showed no bounds, however, and you decided to hand Malleus little doodles with silly notes through the end of the period. Malleus did not reciprocate these notes, for royalty need not indulge in such silly idiocracy, yet the least he could do was appreciate your attentiveness to the prince. Once the bell rang and marked the end of the period, you collected your things and held out your hand to the tall prince.

"I decided you're my new friend! Here's to our long-lasting friendship, hornton!" Malleus's eyes widened in shock, standing and staring down at your...incredibly trusting and naïve smile before his shoulders shook in laughter. Nodding and holding his hand to reciprocate your gesture of kindness, he shook it earnestly.

"Indeed. I look forward to our...friendship." He watched as you skipped away and out of the room to your next class, Malleus gathering the silly little notes he now called his treasures and shuffling them into his pocket.

He suddenly found himself becoming excited for next day's boring lecture.

~~~~

Masterlist

#Twisted wonderland #Twst #twst headcannons #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #Malleus #Malleus draconia #Malleus x reader #Malleus draconia x reader #Malleus twst

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dudethatsmyundeaduncle · 3 months

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DP X DC AU Danny & The Little Dead Girl

(title pending lol, Danny and Curare adventures pt 2!) Pt 1 here My AU art

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Monday comes, as it is won't to do, and Danny has to go to school which means the baby halfa has to come to school too.

" ok, so, one rule for today, big rule, you gotta be quiet in class. Uh-"

Danny pulls his phone out of his pocket as their bus hits a pot hole. Sitting right at the front means they catch the momentum first and he has to hold Curaré against his side lest she go flying into the aisle.

A couple voices grumble behind them at the jostling as Danny gets his text to speech open.

" Necessitas ser quieto en clase. ¿Entiendes?" The Google robot lady voice translates for him.

Curaré blinks at him from behind her little paper face mask and looks from the phone to him curiously.

This is the game they've been playing since last night, Danny says something in English robo lady repeats it in Spanish.

Danny doesn't know if Curaré understands how the phone speaks or even that it does but she's giving him her favorite little blank expression so he assumes she gets it. At least, she hasn't really disagreed or disobeyed anything he's asked of her yet so...not gonna look that gift horse in the mouth Danny boy!

School goes well, mostly.

They get through the metal detectors and bag checks at the front entrance just fine. The security guards barely glance at Curaré once they confirm she isn't hiding a Glock or something under her shirt. Which it's kinda sad to know gun control is a cross-dimensional American problem but it's on brand if nothing else Danny thinks.

They get to first period without stopping at Danny's locker and settle down in two desks by the back door. This is Danny's usual spot, well usual as of a month ago, it's mostly empty back here now but Danny used to have a seat partner.

(A seat partner who had a kind of shady tweaker vibe that Danny would have been worried about but that kid went home early one day and never came back so....it's Curaré's seat now.)

The little dead girl looks even littler sat in the desk-chair combo, she can barely see over the top. Danny stacks three dictionaries under her for a boost then he gets her set up with some pencils and paper and the single highlighter he found on the floor his first day here.

Curaré seems vaguely interested in his offerings ,after Danny shows her how to use them to mark the page, and starts creating cautious marks of her own.

She keeps glancing back up at Danny as if to confirm that this is still fine? And he nods his head every time trying to be encouraging as it becomes obvious that nobody taught this kid to write inside Fosters Home for Real life Assassins. Which Danny thinks is poor planning on there part because really? If your Assassin can't write how the fuck were they supposed to leave ominous threatening warnings? Or fake suicide notes? Or any number of written props to flesh out a cover story.

Whatever, obviously the assassins raising Curaré sucked ass all around so he can't say he's surprised but he is majorly disappointed.

As the bell rings for first period a whole slew of teens rush in ahead of the teacher Mr. Berk. Simple guy, grey beard, coke bottle glasses, smells like Vics vapor rub, the works.

He's like the most chilled out version of Mr. Lancer ever so he's alright in Danny's books. Plus he only has one "rule", as long as your butt is in your seat by the time he calls your name for attendance he won't mark you late. In Gotham, where everyone and their brother has enough late marks from shitty public transportion to get detention, it's a pretty sweet rule.

So Mr. Berk takes attendance like usual and only pauses on Danny and Curaré in the back for a brief moment.

Curaré stops drawing and stares down Mr. Berk like he's the T rex from Jurassic park. Frozen in place and without breaking eye contact. He stares back at her completely unphased.

" A small visitor then?" He says.

Danny nods. " My sister"

" Mhm" Mr. Berk says already moving on to the next student on his roster.

Danny breathes out huge sigh of relief, that was so much easier then he expected.

They more or less repeat this exchange the whole day. Mondays suck ass because it's one of the only days Danny actually has all 6 periods, but they make it through 1st, 2nd, and nutrition unscathed.

By lunch time Danny thinks they might actually be home free, if no one is gonna bring up the whole freaking child tagging along with him then he can probably just bring her with him everyday.

Maybe he can find her some work books and she can learn the alphabet? And addition? That's like on track for 4 year olds right? Danny can't remember being 4 but that feels right to him. He will educate the child in his care like the responsible almost adult he is. She will go to college!

At lunch Danny sits them at the back of the school right next to the teachers lounge because it's mostly deserted.

In Danny's exprience the best place to hide is in plain sight. He's been sitting here everyday since he enrolled himself and the teachers have never noticed him. Their way too busy trying to get any kind of break from teaching high schoolers to be concerned.Which Danny is greatful for because he has broken the rule about using his cell phone at lunch 50 times at this point.

Listen he has to do universe research when he has access to wifi! Which he only does at school. The administration should be glad he's using his lunch period to educate himself really.

So they eat by the lounge. Danny has Curaré face away from the door so she can take off her face mask and eat unencumbered.The cut on her face is still gnarly, it looks an almost enflamed purple as it tries it's best to heal.

Danny had given Curaré a little immuno-boost with his own ecto the night before to try to speed up her healing factor. But like any Halfa, basically just Danny's personal experience, you have to nourish the ghost half and the human half in equal parts to heal all the way.

It's not until home room, period 6/7, that the metaphorical straw breaks the metaphorical camels back. or the real straw to the metaphorical camel? Did camels even carry straw? where would it go? Between there humps? Not important Fenton!

Home room was a grade A disaster.

Mr. Perez, Danny's kind of ancient home room teacher, who was for almost all intents and purposes blind, had a freaking nose for trouble. It's like he could sniff out vapes and cell phones as soon as they hit the stale class air. Danny thought this would be the easiest class by far, Mr. Perez wouldn't even see Curaré let alone smell her.

And at first it seems like he doesnt, Mr. Perez takes attendance and skips right over Danny and Curaré with no fanfare.

Danny thinks that's the end of it and starts to breathe easy until 15 minutes before the final bell when Mr. Perez' TA asks him to step into the hallway with her for a second.

Danny generally liked Mr. Perez's TA, her name was Sabrina Kahn and she was the kind of girl Jazz would have hung out with.Straight laced, wore argyle cardigans, read books, the smart sort. She looked Jazz's age too, maybe 21ish and she always rolled her eyes when people gave dumb answers in class.

She looks a little embarrassed to be speaking to Danny which immediately sets him on edge.

" It's okay that you brought your little sister today but, I'm sorry, you won't be able to do that again. A bunch of your teachers made complaints with the front office and Mr. Perez got a call about it ..."

Sabrina had always been nice to him and now she was about to ruin his whole week.

" But Ms. Kahn-" Danny started.

She gave him a sympathetic look " Lemme guess, your parents can't take her to work so this was the next best option?"

Danny closed his mouth and nodded, that was actually a much better lie then he was gonna tell, thank you Ms. Kahn. ( But also Boooooo curse you Ms. Kahn!)

" Here, I know it can be hard to find childcare for metas, especially ones as ah-vibrant as your sister. My brother had the same trouble with my nephew."

Sabrina hands Danny a flyer, it's still warm from the printer, it looks like it's just a screenshot of an email.

"Thanks?"

The TA rolls her eyes, wow a lot like Jazz then.

" It's the address to that daycare and a referral. They only take kids by word of mouth, they're kind of... off the books. But their good people! I hope they can help you Danny."

The paper is on off yellow, as Ms.Kahn heads back into homeroom Danny feels all his hope go with her. Shit, what was he gonna do now? He looks through the little glass window in the door to the back where Curaré sits, she's already watching him. He tries to smile at her, be reassuring, he's not sure it works.

......

When the bell finally rings Danny picks Curaré up and puts her on his hip to avoid her being crushed by the rush of high schoolers who stampede out the door in front of them.

The flyer from Ms. Kahn feels like it's burning a hole through his pocket as they ride the bus towards the Narrows.

Danny cased the house from the flyer with maps street view as well as he could. It showed a skinny sublet house across from a small strip mall and laundrymat.

Inconspicuous sure, maybe even innocent looking but well...you could never tell in Gotham, all the buildings looked sort of evil by default. It was probably because of the gargoyles and the general low level stink fog that seemed to always be out.

The big city™ really made Danny miss the suburbs of Amity Park more then just the regular gut wrenching home sickness. Oh what'd he'd give to take a deep breath of air and not inhale the smell of piss when he walked down the street.

They get off the bus at the corner a block from the daycare.

Danny holds Curaré's hand which makes for slow going but seems like the right thing to do. She's never wandered off but Danny didn't want to give her the opportunity to either.

As he helped her climb the three short stairs up to the house Danny was suddenly hit with a wave of panic.

What the fuck am I doing? Am I really gonna take care of this freaking Halfa ghost baby for the next 18 years? Im not even an adult! I work weekends at BatBurger for minimum wage WTF?

Danny's hands began to sweat and his stomach cramped. Oh fuck, here was the existential crisis he'd been waiting for since he first decided to take Curaré from the leagues super secret baby basement.

Oh shit he couldn't breathe, what was he gonna do! OH fuck think!

What would jazz do? Call child services and offer psychological support. Not Uber helpful in this case Danny didn't know the first thing about psychology and Gotham CPS was actual prison.

What would Sam do? Assassin babies are hella counter culture but maybe find a cool rich eccentric family to adopt them? Nope, not gonna work Danny only knew one eccentric rich girl and she was a whole dimension away. FUCK THINK FENTON!

What would Tucker do? In this situation ask Google, homeschooling is big these days so maybe if you leave her in the apartment while your gone with an iPad-

" Hey you alright there dude, can I help you?"

Danny choked on the end of his anxiety panic badbadbad spiral and looked up.

The front door to the house was open and just inside the threshold stood a younger teen, maybe 16? With the kind of fade haircut Tucker always whined he couldn't pull off and a bright yellow hoodie.

Danny held his breathe for a moment making sure he felt it burn up his lungs and throat before letting out a big sigh.

" Yeah, yeah sorry kinda zoned out there I'm just uh kinda nervous I was told to come here for Daycare help for my little sister?"

Curaré looked at the stranger in the doorway with the same wide eyed blankness she stared at everything with. Funnily enough she was still holding Danny's hand, had held on through Danny's entire mental meltdown too despite the ecto sweat. Danny felt oddly touched by the gesture, even if it was more likely that the little girl wasn't bothered by his crisis then her being sympathetic.

The teen in the Yellow Hoodie raised an eyebrow at Danny as he fumbled the paper from Ms. Kahn out of his pocket to hand over.

Yellow Hoodie took it and looked between it, him, and Curaré.

" You're not a cop right? You have to tell us if you're a cop"

Danny made a face, " no, I'm not a cop! I would never be a cop, cops suck."

" Right." Yellow Hoodie said still suspicious " So you wouldn't mind if I called your referral up?"

" Be my guest dude."

The teen pulled out his phone and made sure to keep steady eye contact with Danny. Who could do nothing except not look away during this, the world's most impromptu staring contest, until Yellow Hoodie put his phone away.

" Just wanted to see if you were bluffing. Sabrina called earlier said she'd sent someone our way but you can never be too careful. Come on in. "

Danny felt the wind go out of his sails for the second time that day, what was with people and making him anticipate the worst.

.....

The inside of the house was old, homey, but old. It had very obviously been well lived in by a few generations of children, easy to see from the scuffed floors, chipped crown molding, and the sheer number of framed photos that hung on the walls.

There were signs of new life about too, some toys scattered on the floor, walls that were covered in butcher paper and crayon as high as little hands could reach, and oddly enough some scorch marks. Although, Danny's supposed that an unlicensed daycare for meta kids worth it's salt ought to have a least a few burn marks. For posterity if nothing else.

" I'm Duke, I volunteer here when I can but the place is run by the Mariscos, Mrs. Marisco specifically. She's been in the game for a long time" Duke nee yellow hoodie said as he stopped them in front of a closed door.

The hand made sign on the door said Office in nice scribbly lettering and it was hung on with a peg and twine. Real kitschy.

Danny could just make out the sounds of kids playing in another part of the house and was a little impressed that Duke had managed to keep Danny from seeing even one tiny tot during the impromptu house tour.

" I gotta go help Izzy with the kids, this is Mrs.Mariscos' office just knock before you go in, she might be on the phone."

Duke nodded to Danny, smiled down at Curaré and disappeared down the hallway.

Leaving Danny and Curaré alone in front of a closed door once again.

Danny looked down at Curaré and she looked up at him, she was characteristically silent.

" This feels like a job interview, did you bring your resume? "

Curaré blinked.

" Yeah, me neither. But I think if we both give her puppy eyes maybe our combined under aged-ness will activate her maternal instincts and she'll be forced to accept us?"

The nerves were back, they had never really left but now they had settled like a rock at the pit of Danny's stomach.

He couldn't bring himself to knock on that office door just yet so he fussed over Curaré instead. Kneeling down he straightened the collar of Curaré's hooded jacket and moveed her little backpack strap back up her shoulder where it had slipped.

" We got this. It's you and me now remember, even if this blows and you have to come to school with me for the rest of year it's you and me." Danny rested his hands on little shoulders and hung his head. " Jeez, I sound like my mom"

"No need to be so nervous Mijo! My Chiqis never met a kid she could turn away."

Danny's neck had never snapped up so fast in his life.

Curaré hadn't been looking up at him at all. No, Curaré was staring up towards the elderly woman floating near the ceiling.

Which was not great, because Danny for all the time had spent in Gotham had never seen another ghost. Not a single one.

Which was unsettling on its own but not bad per se, he'd thought maybe this dimension was just different, not enough spectral energy to manifest a ghostly body.

But no, again nope, this was so much worse.

No ghosts was easy enough to reationalize but one ghost? One ghost meant there was enough spectral energy, one ghost meant something was really really wrong with Gotham.

Because if there was only one ghost in a crime ridden pissed off city like this where the shit were all the others?

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

Yo! Just wanted to say thank u for all the support on part 1, did not expect people to like or care about it lol. Anyway back on bullshit, I've had this written for a while but didn't have the insp to post it until now.

Might write more, might not, you get one bat cameo for reading this time ur welcome.

Forgot to add this to the first post, it's in the reblogs, but TLDR Curaré is an assassin from batman beyond.

Note: if you wanna see cool art for this AU check the Danny and the little dead girl tag on my blog!

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc au #dpxdc #dc x dp #DP x DC #batman #Curaré #batman beyond #duke thomas #danny and the little deadgirl au #i really gotta think of a name for this AU if its gonna be a thing #do i have a plan for this? no no i do not #i have a vague idea about what happens in this universe and no real motivation to write it #batfam

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oddinary4bts · 4 months

Text

When the End Comes | epilogue (jjk)

☆summary: when the weather seems to work against you and Jungkook for your wedding day, you decide to change plans last minute. In any other situation, it would have made you freak out - but how can you freak out, when you're getting married to the love of your life?

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in every chapter)

☆genre: marriage!au, fluff, smut

☆warnings: cursing, mentions of pregnancy, alcohol, mentions of Jungkook's injury, mentions of breakups, Jungkook's scars, explicit content: wedding night sex, nipple play, a tie around OC's neck, jerking off, oral sex (male and female receiving), mouth fucking, fingering, dirty talking, squirting, ball fondling, shower sex, unprotected sex (they're married give them a break haha)

☆word count: 12.1k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: Finally finished the epilogue for you guys! I hope you love it just as much as I loved writing it :') it's going to be hard to say goodbye to this couple, but I hope you love their ending <3 Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3 and thank you to @jessikahathaway for supporting me with this project, you are amazinnng

☆Read The Forgotten Spaces here, the prequel to When the End Comes! It does not need to be read to understand When the End Comes, but I think it still should be read first to have a better understanding of the characters in general!

☆☆☆☆☆

My heart is going onto you So be the heart that I'm choosing, heart that I'm choosing Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, July 6th

The rising sun turns your bedroom into liquid gold, slowly dragging you out of sleep. You bask in the gentle warmth, instinctively turning around to cuddle closer to Jungkook.

In his sleep, Jungkook wraps an arm around you, pulling you ever so closer until your head is pressed to his chest. His heartbeat sings in your ear and you listen to the melody, wishing it would make you fall back asleep.

Alas, your thoughts trot to tomorrow, and like a kid on Christmas morning, too excited to fall back asleep, sleep evades you. So you just enjoy Jungkook’s proximity, sighing softly as he brushes a kiss on the top of your head.

You smile against him, kissing the skin of his chest against which your face is pressed. Jungkook shifts a little bit, his breathing growing slightly uneven, the only indication that he’s waking up as well.

“Morning,” he whispers, voice gruff with sleep.

“Morning,” you echo, and you try to pull back to take a look at his face, but he holds you tighter.

You chuckle, and you snake an arm around his waist, gently caressing the skin of his back. The moment is peaceful, serene, the kind of moments you never want to step away from. They have been frequent, since you moved in with him in Seoul. Life with him has been perfect, like it was at the very beginning of your relationship. Now, no long distance can ever create a wedge between the two of you - every decision you make together, for the both of you.

You’ve been falling in love with him more every day.

“Let’s stay here until tomorrow,” Jungkook whispers, his hold on you momentarily tightening.

You peck his chest again. “I wish we could.”

He whines, a sound that vibrates in his ribcage, and this time you laugh. “Please?”

“You don’t want to get married anymore?” you ask, faking offense as you try to push away from him again.

He doesn’t let you go, though you fight against him for a little longer this time around.

“On the contrary,” he replies. “I kind of wish we’d get married faster.”

It’s a struggle, but you manage to raise your head to look at him. From this angle, all you can see is his sharp jawline and the mole on his neck.

“Why?”

“Because I love you?”

His words make your heart race in your chest, like they always do. Because no amount of declaration of love will ever be enough to stop the uprising of butterflies, to slow down the organ that beats for him.

That has been beating for him since a July night eight years ago. Still, when you were apart, it kept on beating for him, and you know that it will keep on beating for him until you draw your very last breath, at the end of the long road still ahead of the two of you.

“I love you too,” you whisper back.

“I know.”

A comfortable silence settles around the two of you again, and you believe you might be able to fall back asleep after all. Unfortunately for you, Bam heard the two of you, and his wagging tail bangs against the dresser as the dog walks over to Jungkook’s side of the bed, propping his front paws on the mattress so that he can reach for Jungkook.

Jungkook shrieks, sitting up, and you burst out laughing, rolling on your back as he lets go of you.

“He licked me,” Jungkook complains, his familiar pout on display.

You sit up, pressing a gentle kiss on his soft lips. “Maybe I should lick you too.”

His pout melts into a devilish smirk. “I’ve got ideas of where you could lick, mmh.”

You laugh as he tackles you, pushing you back down on the bed. Bam takes that as a cue to jump on the bed, and the next five minutes are spent in giggles and laughs and shrieks, a tangled mess of your own little family. When you all finally calm down, Jungkook slips out of bed with the dog in tow so that he can feed him, and you enjoy a few more minutes of peace before you follow them.

When you walk into the kitchen, Jungkook is busying himself with plating the soy eggs you’ve been eating for breakfast, and he offers you a grin over his shoulder. You think the grin would be enough to make you fly, and you smile in return as you walk over to him, loosely wrapping your arms around his dainty waist.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Mmh.”

He laughs, gently patting your arm. “You’ll get your food soon enough, fear not.”

You hum again, pressing a kiss on his soft skin. His muscles flex as he moves, and you let go of him, heading to the table. Bam trots to you, and you pet the dog as Jungkook finishes with breakfast, carrying it to you. He sits next to you, pecking your cheek as he puts down a plate in front of you.

“Thank you,” you say, immediately diving into the food. It makes Jungkook laugh, even as he follows suit.

As you eat, Jungkook grabs his phone from his pocket, scrolling on Instagram. You look at the screen as he does so, resting your head on his shoulder when you’re done with the eggs. It’s something you also often do - looking at memes and the likes together, spending time in silence, together.

“I hope the forecast has changed for tomorrow,” Jungkook says through a yawn as he switches to the weather app.

It hasn’t. The forecast still announces a rainstorm, and you hide your face in his neck as you groan.

“What are we supposed to do?” you ask. “We can’t have everyone sit in the rain.”

“The reception hall said we can be there early,” Jungkook reminds you. “We can just have the ceremony there instead.”

You pout, not replying. Because you had planned to have the ceremony outside - you’d even wanted to have it happen at night, under a blanket of stars. But it wasn’t possible, so you’d settled for a ceremony outside in a field. Unlike traditional Korean weddings, you’d also decided to have a reception after, so Jungkook has a point.

But you really don’t feel like getting married indoors.

“We should just cancel everything,” you whine. “Let’s wait until we can have our perfect wedding.”

Jungkook leans his head on top of yours. “It’s sunny today.” His voice holds mischief, and you sit back to look at him. His eyes twinkle like stars in the night sky, and for a moment, you just want to get lost in his gaze.

Until an idea sparks in your mind.

“Can we move everything to today?” you ask.

He purses his lips. “Jimin, Bridget and Heather are landing today,” he reminds you. “I thought you wanted to introduce Jimin and Somi.”

Somi. A friend you met during your spinning classes. She’s been a gift here in Korea, helping you adjust in ways that Jungkook couldn’t. More than that, Somi is a hopeless romantic, and something about the way she carries herself makes you think that Jimin would like her.

Maybe she’s what Jimin needs to finally move on from Scottie.

“Right,” you let out. “Fuck.”

Jungkook shrugs. “We could get married and then still have the reception tomorrow.”

Your gaze widens. “You think your dad would accept?”

Indeed, Jungkook’s father is your officiant, since your own father wouldn’t have any legal right to marry you in South Korea. It was still an easy decision though - Jungkook’s family has been treating you like you’ve always been a part of them ever since you’ve met them, all those years ago.

“Definitely,” Jungkook affirms. “I can call him right now.”

“What about the witnesses?” you ask.

“Ask your dad to come, and my mother or my brother can sign for me.”

It seems so simple. You do feel a little guilty thinking about all of your friends who came all the way here to see you get married, but then again, you think they would understand.

They all know that you and Jungkook have always been a little more on the secretive side, even when you were young and dumb college students. So you don’t think any of them would hold it against you…

“Jungkook…”

“Yes?”

“Should we really?”

Even as you ask the question, you already know you want to. Because declaring your love in a room full of people feels like a lot of pressure, even though all of them are already aware of that same love. But to you, it feels impersonal, and you’d rather just do it alone with Jungkook and a few key people.

Maybe it’s the reason why the forecast has been battling against you. Like a sign that you aren’t supposed to get married in that field anyway.

“Do you want to?” Jungkook asks, tilting his head to the side as his features grow serious.

You nod once. “I think it’s a good idea…” you trail off, wetting your lips. “Especially considering the rain.”

“And then I’d get to call you wife today,” he says, smiling softly.

“And I’d get to call you husband.”

His smile slowly widens. “Then let’s do it.”

“What about everyone else though? What do we say?”

Jungkook flicks your nose, winking at you. “They don’t need to know.”

“And the hairstylist and makeup artist?”

“You can still get glammed up for the reception.”

“And Mingyu?”

“I’ll tell him to come today.”

You hold his big doe eyes for a moment, pursing your lips. Your heart syncs with his, warmth filling your soul. It feels like that July night sky, like his lips on yours and a reunion after months apart. Time stretches, and for a moment, you see all of your life in front of you, and all the love and the happiness and joy that it will hold.

Eyes slowly lining with silver, you finally say, “Let’s do it.”

*****

The field is lined with wildflowers, swimming in the breeze. Their fragrance floats in the air, and bees flutter from flower to flower, collecting the pollen. Fat clouds roll in the sky above, plump and white, and the sun shines, endlessly.

The arch where you were supposed to get married tomorrow is already there, a beautiful contraption of entwined vines. White and lilac balloons were supposed to be added to it, but the lack of them doesn’t deter you.

Not when the man you love is waiting for you, right under it. Eyes shining with unshed tears, as your hand tightens on your father’s arm.

“Let’s do it,” your father whispers for just you to hear.

You swallow around the lump in your throat. “What if it’s the wrong thing to do?”

You can’t help the anxiety. It isn’t even what you truly feel - just the anxiety of an important moment in your life, coming sooner than expected. Your question makes your father laugh.

“I’ve never seen a man loving a woman as much as the kid loves you,” he reassures you. “Put him out of his misery.”

You snort, though it sounds more like a sob, as a tear rolls on your cheek. “I love him so much, too.”

Your father pats your hand, and then starts walking you towards where Jungkook is waiting for you, his mother and brother next to him, his father behind him. All of them look at you with tears in their eyes, and you fight the next wave that threatens to spill on your cheeks.

Louis, Isabelle, Jungkook’s brother’s wife and their kids are standing on each side of the makeshift aisle, as the chairs weren’t delivered yet. Still, they also look at you. For a moment, you picture your friends - Jiho, Hobi, Somi, Heather, Bridget, Jo, Taehyung, Kiko, Yoongi, Jin, Valeria, Jimin, Lance and Chaeyeong… You picture all of them sharing this moment of love with you. You do feel bad for them - especially for Jiho and Heather, who were supposed to be your bridesmaids - but then again, you’ll see them tonight.

For your pretend bachelorette.

Everyone present right now promised to keep this instant secret, at least until the reception tomorrow. Just so that you can tell your friends yourself when the moment comes.

You take a step forward, and then another, the distance between you and Jungkook slowly diminishing until you’re standing right in front of him, close enough to see the scar on his left cheek and the mole under his bottom lip. You see everything and nothing at once, your tears blinding you until you blink them away.

Jungkook is not faring any better. Two tears are rolling down his right cheek, and he wipes them with the back of his hand, chuckling softly.

He looks beautiful in his tuxedo, the form tight to his body. He looks massive, strong, yet so delicate in the way his features soften as he looks at you. As he melts like ice in the sun, like you do as well. You melt like that winter of the months away from him never existed, like you never broke up for those terrible months. The memory of them left a scar on your heart, but as you look at him right now, you think the scar is disappearing, like maybe it really never existed.

You look down at yourself, at the white dress on your body. It’s tight to your frame, but the fabric is stretchy enough for it to remain comfortable. Its off-the-shoulder style is perfect for the warm temperature, and the lace that decorates it is beautiful, yet simple.

Jungkook takes you in, whispering, “You’re beautiful,”, as his father starts reciting the usual wedding speech. As much as you want to focus, to paint this moment in your memory, to be able to relive it again and again, it flashes before you until you finally reach the vows.

Jungkook scrapes his throat, then lets out a small, pained sob as new tears roll down his cheeks. You cry in time with him, laughing through it all, as you wipe the tears on his face.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath to calm down. “Wow. I…” he trails off, chuckling again, and his hands close around yours in the space between you. “I never believed we’d finally reach this day,” Jungkook finally says. “For years, I’ve known that you were the one. Hell, I knew the first day I saw you.” He chuckles, and you swallow around the lump in your throat. “I think that’s why you got on my nerves so much.” You swat his arm, laughing, and he winks at you. “I think then I was just scared, because I knew just how much I was going to love you someday, and it first scared me. But when I finally got to be with you, I realized there is nothing to be scared about when it comes to my love for you.” He pauses, blinking a few times. “Except when you get mad at me. That’s scary.”

Soft laughter surrounds you, that of the closest people in your life right now. Mingyu snaps pictures, and your brain zeroes in on the sound for a few seconds until Jungkook speaks again.

“And then I lost you.” You shut your eyes, the pain of the few months away awakening inside of you. “I hated myself for those few months, but even then, I think I knew it was always going to be us two. Whether in this life or another, I knew I’d find you again.” His voice, heavy with emotion, wavers on the last words, and it takes him a moment of breathing in and out before he’s able to continue. “I will forever be thankful that I found you again in this life. That I’ll get to spend every day of my life with you.”

The wind is gentle on your features, almost as gentle as Jungkook’s touch is. Your hands tighten on his fingers for a few seconds, to give him the strength to finish.

“That we’ll get to share the dance of our lives, until death does us part,” he finishes. “I love you, Y/n.”

That last bit was barely over a whisper, yet it clangs through you, vibrates in your soul beautifully. You laugh softly, whispering, “I love you too, Jungkook. So, so much.”

He laughs too, and then you both blink away tears, right as you take a few deep breaths, trying to get ready for your own vows.

You’ve prepared them a while ago. As a matter of fact, the days following his proposal you’d known what you were going to say. You’d almost suggested getting married right then and there, though you don’t regret anything.

Because today feels right. It feels right in ways you can’t comprehend, like it’s time for an entirely new cataclysm, but one that creates.

One that creates a life instead of destroying. That creates a world for just you and him, something you’ll share until the very end.

“Jungkook,” you start. “I’ve loved you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life. Even when I didn’t know what love was, you were there in my heart, slowly making the place yours. When we danced under the stars eight years ago, I knew we would make it to this day. That we’d get married, that we’d always be partners. And I want us to be partners. I want us to make every important decision together, to love and hold each other. To dance under a thousand different night skies, to grow old and grumpy together. Every day, I will love you. I will look into your eyes and know that they were made for me.”

You pause, wiping tears on your cheeks. “I also want to thank you. Thank you for being patient with me, for welcoming me back into your life after those months last year. Thank you for still loving me, for still wanting me even though I broke your heart. And thank you, all those years ago, for being there for me, even though we were at an awkward place in life. The help you granted me when I got kicked out kept me going, and I really, really thank you for it. I just hope I can repay you properly through the years.”

“You already have,” Jungkook chokes out.

You want to wrap him in your arms, but you resist, instead holding his gaze with all the love in your heart. You think your souls are merging, though you reckon you’ve been one for far longer than this moment already.

You’ve been one since you first chose to love him, and he you.

“You can exchange the rings,” Jungkook’s father says, and he sounds just as choked on emotion as the two of you.

So you do, Jungkook gently pushing the ring on your finger. It’s pretty, delicate, similar to the engagement ring he’d gotten you. Though the wedding ring sports emeralds instead, shaped like leaves. It’s fairy-like, and you smile at its simple beauty before putting Jungkook’s ring on his finger.

He raises his hand to look at the ring, smiling brightly. As his father proclaims to kiss the bride, Jungkook’s hand shifts towards you, before gently grabbing your chin. He tilts your head back, and your eyes dip to his mouth as he wets his lips.

“I love you so fucking much, baby,” he says, and then he’s crashing his mouth on yours, ravishing a passionate kiss on your lips.

You wrap your arms around his neck as he dips you, unable to stop the smile that grows on your lips despite the intensity of the kiss. Jungkook is smiling too, and he straightens you as he pulls away before pecking your lips once more.

“I love you so fucking much too.”

*****

Lying to your friends has been feeling like a game you can play too well. Or maybe it’s only because you’re still reeling from getting married, though you have yet to call Jungkook your husband. You’re waiting until tomorrow, maybe to save something for your wedding night.

It’s hard to tell why you both refrained. Maybe you just really want something special for the wedding night, for the moment you’ll finally be embracing in your marital bed, limbs entwined until one can’t tell where you end and where he begins.

Your blood heats up at the thought. Earlier, when you were forced to part ways, you’d almost decided to stay. To stay and fuck him right then and there, to consummate this union between you and him. From the way he’d kissed you, driving his knee between your legs, you know he wanted it too.

But time ran out, and Jiho knocked on your door, stealing you away.

You shake your head, trying to clear your mind so that you can focus on your friends. On the dinner going on around you, with too much alcohol for it to be safe. When you told your friends that the ceremony was supposedly moved inside and later in the day, they’d decided that drinking more was the way to go.

So maybe you shake your head to clear your mind from the alcohol as you dive into the food. It’s delicious, and you eat and laugh and smile with your friends, loving how Somi fits right in despite the language barrier. Both Jiho and Chaeyeoung also speak Korean, so it’s been helping for sure, Somi chatting happily with them.

You sit back in your chair, looking over your group of friends. Heather, with her arm on the chair behind Bridget, smiling broadly at something Bridget is saying. Jiho, fast in a conversation with Somi and Chaeyeoung about a group Jungkook was photographing last week. Jo and Kiko, subtly trying to pour shots for the both of them, the latter’s cheeks already flushed red. Valeria watching them, eyes crinkled with happiness.

You love them so freaking much.

You wonder if Jungkook is sitting through a similar dinner with the rest of the friend group. You wonder if he, too, is thinking of you, imagining the moment you’ll finally be reunited. Imagining the moment you’ll be able to put the ring back on your finger so that everyone will know you’re his and he’s yours.

“Hey, are you planning to give some of that to the rest of us?” you ask Jo and Kiko, and Jo startles, spilling alcohol over the rim of her shot glass.

“Oh,” Jo lets out. “You guys want some?”

“Aren’t we partying tonight?” you remind her.

Jo smirks wickedly. “We sure are.”

And so she pours shots for everyone. You clink the glasses together, not caring for the spilled alcohol, and knock it back. The burn down your throat is devilish, and you know that tonight might just be the time of your life, in different ways than tomorrow night will be.

You notice Valeria looking at her still full shot glass before putting it down on the table. She finds you looking, and she shrugs her shoulders.

“Wait,” you let out, and everyone turns to look at you. “Are you…?”

Valeria chuckles, eyes filling with tears. “Yeah, I am.”

Everybody screams and shrieks in happiness, congratulating her. She beams under the attention, and you find yourself blinking back tears for her and Jin. They’d been trying for kids for a few years now, but they’d been unlucky so far. So you’re really happy for them, and you get up to hug your friend tight.

“I didn’t mean to steal your shine,” she whispers.

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure her as you pull away. “I’m just happy for you.”

She smiles, nodding her head. “Thank you.”

You pat her shoulder, walking back to your seat so that the other girls can hug and congratulate her. Questions about how far along she is and if she wants a girl or a boy are exchanged, and you watch the scene unfold with a teary-eyed smile on your lips.

Jiho, sitting next to you, leans closer to you. “What about you?” she asks.

You cock an eyebrow. “What?”

“You and Jungkook are planning to have any kids?”

The question makes your heart race. Years ago, you would have said no. Even last year, when you’d reconnected, you hadn’t been sure if kids were in your future. But the more time you spend with Jungkook, loving him, the more you realize that maybe it’s a future that would feel right for the both of you.

Because if there’s someone you would want to raise a kid with, it would have to be Jungkook.

“I’m not sure,” you truthfully reply. “Maybe one day?”

Jiho smiles, knowing what you mean. She’s been your closest friend all your life after all, and she already knows the ways of your brain. “You would be brilliant parents,” she tells you, her eyes shining with tears.

“I don’t know about that, but I would definitely do my best.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes. “The way you parent Lisa and Charles for me and Hobi sometimes tells me you’d be the best parents.”

“Stop,” you say, echoing her laugh as you shake your head. “We’ll see.”

“We sure will.”

After that, the conversation returns to a shared one around the table, one you gladly participate in. It’s not too long before you decide to hit the streets, heading to the club Somi chose for the evening. It’s one where you went twice with her before, though tonight you have access to the VIP section.

And so you drink and dance with your friends, careless, as if you’re back to your college days. As if none of you are adults with responsibilities, as if you can just live with no consequences. It feels liberating, yet you find yourself in a quiet corner in the early hours of the morning, seeking the man that you love.

[1:27 am] You: miss u

You’re not quite surprised when Jungkook replies almost right away.

[1:28 am] baby <3: miss u too [1:28 am] baby <3: how’s the party

You smile, heart warming up with your love for him.

[1:28 am] You: it’d be better with u here [1:29 am] baby <3: soon

And though it might just be a text sent in the early hours of the morning, you know that it’s a promise. A promise that you will soon be together again, never to be separated.

Saturday, July 7th

Jungkook looks out the window of the car, heartbeat racing like it’s seeking to win a Formula 1 Grand Prix. He doubts he’ll win - it rather feels like he’s about to go into cardiac arrest.

He doesn’t know why he’s so anxious. Hell, you’re already married, and he just can’t wait to see you again. Though it might be the fact that he’s been lying to everyone, and he hates lying.

He reckons Jimin is onto him. The moment they hugged for the first time, Jimin narrowed his gaze, tilting his head to the side as if to say ‘Something’s changed about you’. Jungkook wanted to admit everything, to reveal that you are already married, but he held on strong.

He’s excited to get to the reception hall and to say the truth. Mostly, he’s excited to have you close again, and he knows he’ll never be without you again. Especially considering how much of a mess he is after just a single day.

He’s yet to call you wife. He’s been trying to figure out a way to do it, something for just the two of you. Because it’s always been about the two of you anyway - ever since the very first day, ever since that dance under the night sky. Eight years ago to the day, Jungkook fell so deep in love, and every day he’s been falling more. And he knows he’ll keep on falling - it’s the most beautiful thing in life. His love for you, yes, but the act of it being shared by your pure heart.

You’ll have so much fun together.

Taehyung parks the car in the parking lot of the reception hall, shooting a look at Jungkook over his shoulder. Jungkook offers him a tight-lipped smile, and Taehyung nods once.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Definitely,” Jungkook says, smile softening.

Taehyung nods again, before turning back around to turn off the wipers and then the engine. The sound of the rain on the roof of the car is deafening, yet Jungkook thinks it’s a beautiful melody.

It allowed him to marry you yesterday after all.

Lance gets out of the car, carrying an umbrella around so that Jungkook won’t get wet. He wants to say it’s useless - you saw him already - but he refrains, instead thanking his friend as he gets out of the car, safe from the storm.

The car with Namjoon, Jin, Hobi, Yoongi and Mingyu arrives behind them, and they all quickly make their way inside, shaking off the water. The families are already here, and Jungkook watches as everyone mingles, bright smiles on their lips. Bridget and Heather come to see him, and he smiles widely as the couple stops in front of him.

“Excited?” Bridget asks.

His smile turns into a smirk. “More than ever. Especially for tonight.”

Heather rolls her eyes as Bridget wiggles her eyebrows, and then Jungkook’s father jogs to him, grabbing his arm.

“It’s time,” the older man says.

Jungkook feels a lump forming in his throat, as if it isn’t already done. As if you aren’t already united by the vows of marriage, until death does you apart. Yet, he still nods goodbye to his friends, and then follows his father to the little dais where the DJ will be playing later tonight.

People turn to look at him curiously, probably expecting him to go out of the room for the wedding processional. Instead, Jungkook grabs a mic, scraping his throat before bringing it closer to his mouth.

“Hey everyone,” he greets the crowd, and silence slowly falls on the room. “Thank you for coming today. It means a lot to me and Y/n, more than you can imagine.”

And then you walk out of the room where you were hiding with Jiho, Heather and Somi, and people gasp at the sight of you.

“The only thing is,” Jungkook continues, and he offers you his hand to hold. The moment your fingers touch he feels rejuvenated, like maybe he was just born this instant. And you look fabulous - did you get more beautiful in the day apart? “The only thing is,” Jungkook restarts. “We already got married.”

Wide gazes and shocked gasps now fill the room, and Jungkook hands you the mic, even as Jiho takes a step towards you, as if to stop you.

“We’d always dreamed to get married outside,” you say, and you motion to the rain splattering on the window panes. “Unfortunately, the weather was working against us. So we got married yesterday, with only our close family present.”

You meet Jungkook’s gaze, offering him a teary-eyed smile. He��s surprised to see the tears in your gaze, as if not expecting them, but they quickly make his gaze wet as well, and he chuckles softly, his heart feeling like he’s been embraced by all the love in the universe.

The world slows around you. Jungkook feels like he’s falling through the years, through the past, through every hurdle that stood in your path. All of them were worth it. So fucking worth it - he wouldn’t be standing next to you right now without them.

Your smile softens, if that is even possible. Eyes so full of love he thinks he’ll combust, like a firework exploding in colours and beauty. Because you’ve always brought out the best of him.

“So we did want to apologize to all of you who traveled all the way from the States,” you continue, and you look away from Jungkook.

He steps closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to press you against him. You easily melt in his touch, leaning your head on him.

“But we also wanted to thank you for coming, and we hope that tonight’s party is going to still be worth it.”

On that note, Jungkook gets the rings in his pocket, as you give the mic to a stunned Jiho. You face him again, and like yesterday, Jungkook gently puts your ring on your finger. It’s delicate, beautiful - everything that you are as well. His is simpler, yet still just as elegant, and its weight is a comfortable reminder of your love the second it’s on his finger.

Looking in your eyes, Jungkook wonders if he deserves your love. It’s a weird question to ask himself in the moment, and he knows he does. Or at least he’ll always work to make sure he deserves it, and he’ll offer you everything in his heart and soul. Because you’re the love of his life - he knew from the moment he met you.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Jungkook gently grabs your cheeks, the crowd slowly fading away. It’s like you’re alone in the universe, just you and him. In a world that is just yours - maybe that forgotten space where you’d first met. It’s a world of simple love, eternal. And in that world, Jungkook gently leans in, pressing his lips on yours, kissing you like he has all the time in the universe.

And he does. He does now.

Cheering brings him back to reality, and Jungkook pulls away, laughing along with you as you grab his hand, facing your friends and family. They are cheering and clapping, bright smiles welcoming you back to reality. You bow to them in tandem, and then Jungkook leads you down the dais so that you can receive the congratulations from everyone.

And though it might be a little exhausting, Jungkook knows that all of his burdens will now be shared with you. So with a heart lighter than the wind, Jungkook follows you around the room, and he follows you to your shared future.

*****

The reception has been fun. The food was perfect, the cake just as tasty, and to be surrounded with the people you love has been a dream. A beautiful dream - one you’ll forever spend with the love of your life.

Jungkook leads you to the dancefloor for the first dance. A dance for just the two of you, shared with your friends and family. The first of so many other dances, yet it’s hardly the first. You stop in front of him, and he puts one hand on your waist, the other gently closing around your fingers. You put your free hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly.

Before you even start dancing, Jungkook whispers, “Do you want to dance with me?” and your eyes fill with tears as a sob racks through you.

“Yes,” you whisper back. “Always.”

He smiles, a tear rolling on his cheek, and then the music starts. It’s a soft song, a gentle love song, by an artist you both came to love through the years. It’s one you’ve danced to a thousand times before, yet today it feels different. It feels like that July night eight years ago - the cataclysm of you and him, relived.

So you dance with him, eyes lost in the shine of his gaze, in the pure love it holds. You dance and dance, remembering the years. Remembering finding him again after his accident. Remembering the hate you’d arbored for him, that had always been love disguised. Remembering falling in love, yet pushing him away. Remembering Laura, and the day Jungkook had chosen you over her. Remembering Chicago, the dance crew, the parties you spent too busy getting lost in each other to partake in the reveling.

You remember everything - moving into your new apartment, him later moving in with you. Loving each other - the day Lisa was born, and Jungkook had held her with so many stars in his eyes you believed he’d turn into a galaxy. You remember the cottage, the camping trips, the long distance. The dreaded long distance - who would have thought it was leading you to this moment in time? You remember Harrison, remember falling back into Jungkook’s arms - the hotel balcony on Taehyung and Jo’s wedding. You remember everything, all at once - the day he proposed.

And the day he married you. The most important day of your life, forever.

As the dance slowly comes to an end, Jungkook kisses you again. Telling you that he, too, remembers everything. That it was all supposed to happen the way that it did, if only to lead you to the right place for you. On the other side of the world, together.

Always together.

After that first dance, everyone joins you on the dancefloor. Love in their hearts, your friends and family dance. Laughter and smiles and teary eyes reign on the world tonight, and you take it all in. Take all the love in, and redirect it to Jungkook.

So you kiss him, right there on the dance floor. You kiss him deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. And he kisses you back, his arms snaking around your waist. You wonder if he can hear the wild beats of your heart - is his heart beating just as wildly?

You know it is. Because the love between you and him will forever be shared - it’s the kind people write poems about. And you feel like a poet tonight, like you’re experiencing the most beautiful moment of your life. Something you’ll always look back on with fondness and love and nostalgia.

When you’ll be old and grey and death will take you in its hold, you know today will be the movie in your mind, the moment you’ll relive before you go.

But for now, you need to experience it. To party with your friends, to enjoy this moment where you and Jungkook are celebrated. So you do. Even as Jiho scolds you for not telling her, even as your father makes a speech that ends up making everyone cry. You think you’re on top of a mountain, breathing in the fresh air, making you feel younger than you’ve ever been. New, untainted by the horrors of the world.

It’s just you and Jungkook tonight, and love. Love and love and love, as he leads you outside to get fresh air after the first hour of partying. If his leg is hurting him, he doesn’t let it show. Instead he leads you away from the light of the building, walking around the ponds left from the rain earlier.

It relented. It relented to let you see the moon and the stars, though clouds drift above, hiding most of the blanket of constellations that means so much to the two of you.

“How are you feeling?” Jungkook asks as he pulls your back flush to his chest, and you both tilt your heads back to look up to the night sky.

“Infinite,” you reply. “I feel like I love you even more than before.”

He kisses the top of your head. “So do I. Forever.”

“Forever,” you echo.

Because the end won’t ever come for you and him. Even in death, you know your soul will dance with his.

“Dance with me,” you tell him.

It’s a remix of your usual question, yet the answer doesn’t change. Jungkook turns you around, yet keeps you close to him, swaying you to the soft night breeze. He leans his forehead against yours, and you breathe in the same air as you dance gently, slowly.

“We’re married,” Jungkook murmurs.

“We are.”

“I love you so much,” he adds, his voice trembling with emotion.

Yours isn’t much better as you reply, “I love you so much too.”

*****

Jimin walks outside, needing fresh air. He stops in his tracks when he notices you and Jungkook, dancing the night away. He smiles - if only he’d be able to find love like that one day.

Though his heart aches, never fully healed from what happened with Scottie, Jimin is happy for the two of you. Happy that, through the hurdles, you and Jungkook made it.

You give him hope, more than he’d dare admit.

He looks at you for a few more seconds, before turning around to walk back inside. He startles at the sight of the pretty girl behind him, and he stops right before he was to run into her.

Somi. Right. The friend you told him about. And though Jimin is usually charming, flirty, all he can do when he looks down at the girl is shyly smile, cheeks burning.

“They’re adorable,” she says in Korean, looking behind him.

Jimin glances at you once more. “They really are. I can only hope to find love like that someday.”

He meets Somi’s gaze again, scolding himself for saying such a vulnerable thing to a stranger. Yet, her eyes twinkle with understanding, and she motions to the side.

“Do you want to walk with me?”

Jimin feels his throat go dry, yet he nods. “Sure.”

“It’s just…” she trails off. “I think we’re the only single people here,” she explains, as if she needed to.

Or as if he didn’t sound so sure.

“Even if we weren’t, I’d still walk with you,” Jimin says, voice low, finding some of his old charming self back.

It works. Damn it it works, and Somi takes it in stride, a gentle smile moving on her red-tinted lips. “Good. Because you’re the only one I’d want to walk with.”

He laughs, a clear laugh he hasn’t laughed in years. And then they walk with easy conversation, and Somi reveals more of her past. More of how she became friends with you, how she always wanted to meet everyone. To meet Jimin, she adds, a shy smile on her lips.

They walk to a small river, though the current is rushing from the rainstorm earlier. Yet the night takes the edge off the rush, making it seem like the most idyllic scene Jimin could have conjured up.

Or maybe that’s Somi and her soft smiles. Her big eyes shining brightly whenever she meets his gaze. He feels like he never truly breathed before this moment - like the night air is the most refreshing, rejuvenating.

It helps that the conversation is so easy. That Somi doesn’t know about Scottie, unlike the friend group. Unlike everyone, who’s always treated Jimin differently after the breakup. Somi doesn’t - she teases him, smiles with him, and when they walk back to the reception hall when Jimin notices her shivering, even though he’s given her his jacket, she dances with him.

Jimin feels new, raw. He laughs with her, smiles with her, and butterflies slowly come to life in his stomach. His heart feels warmer than it’s felt in years - Somi is healing him. Damn him, she’s healing him in ways he doesn’t comprehend, and he barely knows her yet.

But when the end of the night comes, and he presses a gentle kiss on her lips that she immediately reciprocates, Jimin knows he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to get to know her better.

So he lets Scottie go, and welcomes Somi in.

*****

“After you,” Jungkook says, opening the door of the hotel room you’ve rented for tonight.

Bam is being babysat with your father for the night, which you think is a relief. You’ll definitely be too busy to take care of a dog tonight.

You walk into the room, taking in the flower petals and the candles that were lit by the hotel staff before your return. The atmosphere is light, romantic - a dream come true after all the years of you and him. You spin on yourself, your wedding dress fluttering around you.

Jungkook has closed the door behind him, and he’s leaning against it, watching you twirl with a smile on his lips. When you stop to look at him, his smile slowly turns into a smirk, and he tilts his head to the side.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long,” he murmurs with a husky voice.

He slowly takes off his tie, and you patiently survey him, warmth spreading through you. Once the tie is off, Jungkook steps towards you, putting it around your neck.

He tugs on it, and you stumble forward in his embrace. He was ready to catch you - he crashes his mouth on yours, and you immediately kiss him back, fire blazing in your soul. Jungkook backs you towards the bed, sucking on your lower lip.

“Kook,” you breathe against his soft pink lips, and then he pushes you on the bed.

He towers over you, slowly shrugging off his blazer. He throws it towards the couch in one corner, and the flames of the candles flicker from the rush of air. Next is his dress shirt - he slowly unbuttons it, revealing more of his perfect, honey skin as he goes down.

You watch him, hungrily. Follow every movement of his fingers, imagining how they will soon feel on you. And when he’s done unbuttoning his shirt, you open it for him, caressing his abs with the tip of your fingers. Goosebumps trail in the wake of your fingers, and Jungkook sucks in a breath as you graze his scar.

The soft, flickering light of the candles lessen the harsh edges of the scar that disappears in his pants. You follow down the line until you reach the band of his pants, and then you lean forward to press a soft kiss on the spot.

“So beautiful,” you praise. “My husband.”

He grabs your face, forcing you to look up as he bends down to kiss you. It’s a gentle kiss, yet it quickly turns languid, his tongue pushing into your mouth. You meet it with your own, drinking him in, getting drunk on his taste. His thumbs gently caress your cheeks, lovingly, never-ending.

Because love will never end between you and him.

Your hands find his dainty waist, his skin warm against your palms. He shudders as you move up his flanks, and then you pull him down, moving back on the bed. Your lips never disconnect - like two adjacent puzzle pieces that have finally been joined. So Jungkook lies on top of you, the lapels of his dress shirt tickling your arms. You try to take it off him, but it’s unsuccessful. Until he kneels to help, and soon, your eyes fall to his perked brown nipples.

You pinch them playfully as Jungkook just watches you with his gaze full of swirling emotions, love on the surface of it all. You swim in his gaze, getting lost in him.

“I’m your husband,” he breathes.

You nod, eyes filling with unsuspected tears. “You are.”

“I’m so fucking lucky.”

And then he’s bending down again, stealing a searing kiss on your lips. You moan in his mouth, and he swallows it like he always does, with a grunt of his own. You run your hands on his back, up to his hair, and you tug at the soft strands on the back of his head.

He groans a little louder this time and then pulls away from the kiss. His gaze is dark, with desire and passion and love and everything that makes him the person that you want and will spend the rest of your life with.

“How do I get you out of this dress?” he asks as one of his hands runs up and down your arm.

You sigh. “I’m pretty sure I’d have to be standing.”

He pouts, yet he gets up, gently grabbing your small hands in his large ones so that he can help you up. Once you’re standing, he pecks your nose once, turning you around when he’s done. He brushes your hair over one shoulder before bending down to kiss the skin on the side of your neck.

“It’s a shame that I have to take it off,” he breathes right in your ear, and you shiver. “But I want to see all of you while I’m making you mine tonight.”

“I’m already yours,” you reply, breath hitching in your throat as he sucks on your skin.

“Oh, I know.” He kisses your neck again and then pulls away.

It takes him a few seconds to figure out how to get you out of your dress, but he soon finds the zipper. He slowly pulls it down, and you feel his gaze burning on every inch of skin revealed. When he’s done unzipping, Jungkook pushes the dress off down your arms, and it slowly falls to the floor, pooling around your ankles.

“You weren’t wearing any underwear?” Jungkook asks, sounding out of breath.

You step out of the dress, turning to look at him innocently. “I wasn’t. Should I have?”

You can tell it takes everything in him not to jump on you. Instead, he pulls you by his tie again - you forgot it was around your neck. When you step closer to him, he lets it go, and it falls between your breasts. You look down at yourself right as Jungkook pinches your nipples, and they perk under his fingers.

“So, so beautiful,” he praises again, and he bends down to suck on one of your nipples.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you let out a breathy sound as he cups your other breast, palming it softly. You lose your hands in his hair again, tugging gently to bring his mouth back to yours. You suck on his tongue the moment he pushes it in your mouth, and Jungkook grunts, especially as one of your hands falls in the space between you, palming his dick through his pants.

He’s already hard, sitting heavy in your hand, and you moan as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Shit, baby,” he breathes out. “I’m so horny. I feel like I won’t last long.”

With a devilish smirk, you drop to your knees. “It’s okay,” you reassure him. “We can fuck all night long.”

You bite at his dick through the fabric, and he curses under his breath. Yet he doesn’t do anything, just watches you as you work on his belt. When it comes undone, you unbutton his pants, holding his half-lidded gaze.

“So you want me to come in your mouth first, mmh?” he asks. “You want to swallow every last drop?”

You unzip the pants, pushing it down his legs. “You’d like that?”

“Baby, I’d love it.”

You look down at his dick, straining against his boxers. You peck his length, before smiling up at him. “I love you.”

And then you push his boxers down as well, immediately taking the tip of his cock in your mouth.

“I love-” he moans, “you too.”

You suck on his tip before pulling away so that you can jerk him off. “So fuck my mouth, Kook. Come down my throat.”

His chest rapidly goes up and down from his quick breaths, and Jungkook nods. “Alright. Open up your throat for me, baby.”

You do, mouth falling open as you push your tongue out. You let go of his dick so that he can hold it instead, and he taps it twice on your tongue, a string of saliva connecting his slit to your mouth. It’s hot, sinful, yet all you focus on are his pretty eyes as they narrow, almost as if he’s in pain, or maybe angry. His brows are bunched together, and you know he’s about to ruin you.

You want him to ruin you. You want him to ruin you every single day of the rest of your life.

Getting tired of teasing, Jungkook pushes his dick in your mouth. You take him in, relaxing your throat as he pushes as far back as you can take him. You keep the gag reflex in, and Jungkook sighs as he slowly pulls out, pushing in once more just a second later. He lets go of his dick to hold your cheeks instead, thumbs swiping on your skin again.

“You tap my leg if it gets too much, yeah?” he asks.

You moan around him, offering him a thumbs-up. It makes him snort, and he pulls out of your mouth as you start laughing, too.

“I really fucking love you, wow,” he says. “The love of my life.”

You’d get sentimental if he didn’t push his dick in your mouth again. Instead, you moan softly, and Jungkook grunts in approval.

And then he unleashes himself. You hold on to his powerful thighs, appreciating the way his muscles shift under his skin, the way the jagged edges of his scar tickle your palm. Jungkook is a grunting and cursing mess over you, though praises of love for you are the most common. You moan for him, relaxing your throat, doing all you can to keep the gag reflex in. Jungkook wipes the tears that slip on your cheeks, always trusting you to stop him if it’s too much.

But it’s not too much. Ever. You want him to ruin you so bad you’ll never be able to say anything other than his name. And he seems like he wants it, too, as he keeps snapping his hips forward in quick, harsh thrusts. His dick is infinitely hard in your mouth, and you swallow around it, though it triggers your gag reflex.

Jungkook pulls out of your mouth, though he immediately starts jerking off. You recognize the signs that he’s about to come, and you quickly wrap your lips around his tip. He throws his head back, and his dick starts twitching, his warm cum spilling on your tongue.

The taste makes you go feral. Makes you take as much of him in as you can, and cum overflows on your chin. But you don’t care - you’re truly feral for him, forever.

Jungkook finishes unloading his load directly in your throat, and he’s shaking by the time you finally pull away, swallowing his cum. The heady taste and scent doesn’t make you gag, and you lick your lips clean as he looks down at you, chest flushed red.

“Fuck,” he curses, and then he chuckles, a smile growing on his lips. “I’m the luckiest guy alive.”

You laugh as you get up, wiping your chin. “And I’m the luckiest girl.”

“You sure are,” he says, eyes fondly looking down at you. They quickly darken again, and he motions to the bed. “Now let me return the favour to my beautiful love.”

You feel like rolling your eyes at his cheesiness, yet you only then realize that he hasn’t called you wife once. Somehow, it makes you anxious, yet you’re too drunk on the taste of him to be able to interpret anything. You only obey him, lying on your back. Jungkook kneels next to the bed, and he gently caresses your thighs before pulling you closer.

He bends down, breathing in the scent of you. “I think,” he starts, and then he pauses to push his tongue inside of you once. “We’ll fuck like animals tonight.”

“Plea-” you start, though the moment he sucks on your clit, it breaks into a moan. “Jungkook…”

He doesn’t reply. He immediately busies himself with lapping you up, with drinking you in. He moans against you, appreciatively, and you lose a hand in his hair again. He’s long dishevelled by now - there’s something terribly hot about it. Because this man is yours - your husband. From now until death does you apart.

He flicks your clit, and you moan out his name the instant he slides a finger inside of you. He curls it, searching for the sweetest spot inside of you, and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he starts rubbing on it.

“Kook,” you moan. “Fuck.”

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel,” he says, sitting back on his heels just long enough to push another finger inside of you. Scissor motions press against the tightening muscles of your pussy, and you rock your hips towards his face. He tuts. “A little impatient, are we?”

You groan in frustration as he blows on your clit, the sensitive organ flush with blood, hard, just waiting for the next swipe of his tongue so that you can explode. But Jungkook denies it - he kisses the inside of your thighs, tracing hickeys on your soft skin. Then he kisses your pelvis, ghosting on your clit. He licks your lips, red with your arousal. He teases and teases, and you whine.

“Please,” you beg, teary-eyed. “I’m so close.”

He gives in immediately. An expert motion on your clit sends you flying over the edge, and your thighs close around his face as you climax hard. Your voice breaks in a moan, and he just keeps on fingering you. You grind against his face, milking your orgasm from yourself, instinctively. He lets you do it, delighting in your taste, in your juice on his chin.

It takes you so long to come down from the high that you don’t realize he’s not fingering you anymore. That he moved - he disappeared from between your legs. Instead, Jungkook lies on the bed next to you, tracing circles around your navel.

You turn your head, looking at him through your blown-wide pupils. He’s fuzzy, beautiful.

And most of all, he’s your husband.

“Wow,” you let out, and you chuckle as he smiles devilishly.

“I know,” he replies. “You squirted at the same time.”

You don’t have it in you to be embarrassed, though you doubt there’s anything to be embarrassed about it. Instead, you only repeat, “Wow,” and he laughs with his bunny smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Your husband. This man is your husband now.

“I think you’re right,” you whisper, turning to face him.

He loses the smile, instead looking at you with an inquisitive look on his features, eyebrows raised in question. “About what?”

“We’re going to fuck like animals tonight.”

He bursts out laughing, high and clear, the most beautiful human you’ve ever seen in your life. You join him, and when the laughter subsides, and he rolls over you to kiss you again, you welcome him in, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him close. He’s over you, caging you, protecting you from the big bad world and from the months last year where you’d broken apart from each other.

You’ll never be separated again.

“We should take a shower,” Jungkook suggests as he pulls away from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours once more, just content with breathing shared air. “I won’t be quite ready to go again for a few minutes.”

You whine, playfully pinching his side, which earns you a shriek from him as he rolls away from you. “You’re boring, Jeon.”

He looks at you, wide smile a little frozen, and then he tears up again. “You haven’t called me that since the beginning,” he reminisces.

“The beginning?” you echo.

He nods. “You know how infuriating it was to see you again for the first time after the accident?”

The mention of his accident makes your eyes drift towards his scars. They’re beautiful on his honey skin, and you mindlessly reach between you to massage the one on his knee.

“You called me Jeon, and you were so pissed to see me,” he remembers, sighing in nostalgia. An emotion you know far too well and that you’re way too happy to dive in with him. “And when you were flirting with Jimin, I could feel my heart sink so deep.”

“Gosh, poor Jimin,” you let out.

Though you both saw him with Somi. You saw the exchanged kiss - the hesitancy, the surprise, and the bright eyes as they’d left separately, yet promised to reach out on the morrow. You’re happy for Jimin and Somi - they both deserve the whole wide world. And though it might be too early to tell, you still cheer for them.

If only because it might bring one of your dearest friends here, and God knows how much you love your friends.

“You think he and Somi will figure shit out?” Jungkook asks, propping his head on his hand.

He looks pretty like that, candlelight still casting a play of shadow and light on his features. Unable to resist, you reach between you, gently tracing the shape of his face.

“I think both of them deserve happiness,” you answer. “If they can find it in each other, I will be very happy for them.”

Jungkook’s face slowly breaks into the softest smile, and then he leans forward to peck your lips once more. “Though I love Jimin, let’s not dwell on this too long. I still want to fuck you stupid.”

You laugh as he playfully pinches your side before getting up. You look at him from where you’re still lying on the bed - his extended hand offers a promise of forever, and it’s a forever you now know to be your future, your truth.

You smile, wind catching in the sails of your heart, and you grab his hands to allow him to help you up. You use the momentum to press your lips on the pillowy softness of his swollen mouth, and Jungkook is quick to kiss you back, to offer you all of his love on a silver platter.

And he doesn’t stop there. Jungkook keeps on kissing you as he leads you to the bathroom. He turns the shower on, only breaking away long enough to adjust the water temperature. He keeps celebrating his love for you in the form of his mouth dancing with yours, and you let him guide you under the warm, soothing water of the shower.

You break away to breathe then, holding each other. Him, with his arms wrapped around your middle. You, leaning back on his chest as you gently trace idle figures on his forearms - love between you is as endless as the water cycle in the bathroom - fog condensing on the mirror, only to go back to its liquid form as it rolls down the glass before evaporating again.

You and Jeon Jungkook are never-ending.

“I love you,” Jungkook breathes when he pulls away to rest his cheek on the top of your head. He gently rocks you from side to side. “I’m so grateful to be married to you.”

“You’re my favourite husband,” you tease, but also test the waters, seeing if he’ll call you wife then.

He doesn’t. Instead, he replies, “I hope you don’t have too many husbands, that’d be upsetting.”

You turn in his arms, the water now spraying your back. “Just you, Kook. There’s always just been you.”

He caves in, brushing his mouth on yours again in the most intimate caress. “What would I do without you?”

You don’t know about him, but you’d wither. You’d wither and fade into darkness, or maybe you’d freeze like the first layer of the ground when the cold hits. You’d stop existing, you’d stop evolving, because he’s the theory of your evolution. He’s your character arc, the reason why you were put on this Earth years ago.

“I want all of you,” you breathe against his lips, and he deepens the kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

You welcome it in, hands getting lost in his now wet hair. His own hands hold your hips firmly, pressing you on his slowly growing erection. Before it goes out of control, you pull away, grabbing a bar of soap to wash him.

He almost purrs under your hands as they trace every line and curve of him. Eyes shut, a small smile on his lips that turns into a pout whenever you let go of him. He’s incredibly adorable - the very reason why your heart skips beat nowadays.

Why your heart ever skipped beats to begin with.

“Let me wash you too,” he murmurs when you’re done, though you haven’t touched his dick yet.

It now stands proud and tall, pointing towards you, leaking precum as you rub the bar of soap in your hands to get some foam. He watches you as you put the soap down, and you wink up at him.

“I’m not done yet.”

This time he shudders when you grab the base of his dick, gently jerking him off once so that you can clean his shaft. You then move to his balls, and you massage them with the most gentle touch you can muster up, not wanting to trigger his arousal right now.

No, you just want him to enjoy the act of being thoroughly cleaned up, to be taken care of in every way he deserves.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, and you don’t resist when he pulls you in a kiss. When he switches place with you so that he can wash away the soap from his body, you watch the residue of foam going down the drain, awaiting your turn.

Jungkook’s large hands are infinitely soft, infinitely pure - like he’s never done anything wrong in his life. Looking up at those big doe eyes you love more than the universe itself, you know Jungkook has, in truth, never done any wrong. How could he when he’s the purest soul you’ve ever come across?

He hums as he cleans you, the song you danced to earlier. Your song, you reckon, and you join in, the lyrics floating in the air surrounding you. Though you’ve never been the singer that he is, Jungkook still cleans you, thoroughly, gently, and when he’s done he puts you under the cascade of water, and you let it wash the soap away.

“You’re a fucking angel,” Jungkook whispers, and your eyes flutter open to meet his gaze. Not remembering when they closed, you let them adjust to the light, but Jungkook is quick to crash his mouth against yours, ravishing a soul-ending kiss on your lips.

When he turns you away from the water, your back to him as his own back is now showered with wet warmth, you immediately bend down. Your arousal hasn’t lessened since the actions that transpired in the bed, and Jungkook runs a finger through your folds once.

“You’re already so wet,” he praises. “My good fucking girl.”

“Like animals, right?”

He doesn’t offer a verbal answer - he answers in the physical, brushing his tip on your folds. It’s quite larger than the tip of his finger, and you shudder as your eyes shut as you brace your hands on the ceramic of the wall. The broad tip brushes past your lips before Jungkook pulls out, resting his dick between your ass cheeks.

“Like animals,” he agrees. “Like that first time I fucked you. In the living room of the cottage.” He pushes all the way in then, and you moan loudly, rocking forward. He grabs your hips, fingers digging in the supple flesh. “I wish someone would have found us there. Would have seen just how fucking hot you are when I’m fucking you.”

And then he’s pounding into you, so hard your cheek ends up pressed against the wall as you cry out your pleasure. Even through the haze that grows in your mind, you think about his leg - you know it doesn’t hurt like at the beginning, but whenever he fucks you like that, you’re afraid he’ll hurt himself.

But he doesn’t let you voice your concern. He’s quick to bend forward until he’s able to wrap your throat in your favourite necklace, tattooed fingers cutting the blood circulation to your brain until you grow so dizzy you struggle to stand.

He lets go of your neck then, but he’s still not done jackhammering his hips into yours. He’s a moaning and grunting mess, and the sinful melody of your name and the curses that tumble from his lips slowly guide you towards a new orgasm.

Slowly, yet when he pinches your nipple, hard enough to hurt, your climax hits at the speed of light, and your legs give out under you. You’re lucky he’s holding you up, though you shake through every powerful wave, his name the only thing you know.

You don’t think you need to know anything else anyway. There’s just him - there’s always just going to be him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he curses as your walls clench around his dick again and again, though the muscle grows weaker. When your orgasm leaves you empty and spent, Jungkook pulls you up so that he can wrap his arms around you again, and he litters soft kisses on the back of your shoulder and on your neck. “Let’s go back to the bed,” he whispers. “I’m not done with you at all.”

You whine as he pulls out of you, leaving you far too empty for your liking. He steps out of the shower, grabbing a towel that he holds open for you. You follow him out, and he wraps it around you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he turns around to grab a towel for himself. You quickly dry yourself, and then Jungkook puts the towels on the hooks behind the door.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and he offers you a lovesick smile.

“Of course,” he says.

He grabs your hand, pulling you back to the bedroom. The candles still flicker like dozens of little ghosts, and though you’ve disturbed some of the rose petals already, they still await you. Uncaring about them, Jungkook brings you back to the bed, and he helps you lay down before joining you, lying next to you. His hand rests flat on your stomach, and you share a timeless look of pure love and adoration.

An eternity with him… When did you get so lucky?

Jungkook must have seen the yearning in your gaze because he climbs back on top of you, his weight a comforting reminder of everything he is to you. Still hard, his dick lays on your pelvis, and you look down at yourselves long enough to watch him align himself with your entrance.

“Look at me,” he asks before he pushes in.

Like a moth to the flame, you’re unable to resist the dive in his eyes that follows. So you dive deep, one hand on his cheek and the other on his waist. And when he pushes all the way in, you whisper your love for him. He stills deep inside of you, and presses one kiss to the side of your face.

“You’re mine,” he breathes, voice heavy with emotion. “My wife.”

The words clang through you repeatedly. Like Echo is screaming them back to you, making sure they are carved into your bones and etched into your soul. You think they have been before, but hearing him say it makes it real, seals the deal until your souls truly unite to be just one. Until your love for him expands, growing bigger than the universe, encompassing everything that once was you and everything that will now be you, plural.

“My husband,” you whisper back.

“I love you.”

He slowly pulls out, and then he softly pushes back in as he rests his forehead against yours. There is so much love between you and him that you feel like you’re drowning in the bliss of him, like you’ll forever be changed by this moment in time.

In truth, you know he’s already forever changed you. And as he makes love to you slowly, languidly, sensually, kissing you long enough to remind you that you made it, that you fucking made it through all the hurdles, you know that you forever changed him, too.

And isn’t that beautiful? The power that one’s soul can have over another’s soul? The stars agree - they’ve always known about you and Jeon Jungkook. Happy, they shine in constellations for the two of you, slowly making place amongst their ranks. Because the astral bodies know one day they’ll welcome you in the night sky you love so deeply - two new stars, once stardust and now burning, for the eternity that is yours.

But first, you have a very long road ahead of you. And though life might take one of you before the other, your commitment to one another is endless - even if one of you shines up above before the other, you’ll always be with each other.

So when you’re finally spent after a night of love making, of promises and forevers whispered into one another’s ear, you listen to his heartbeat. You listen to it, your favourite melody, even before you knew its existence. It’s beautiful, simple - strong and steadfast. Mostly, it is yours.

Before you fall asleep, you offer him one last promise -

“I will always love you, Jeon Jungkook.”

☆☆☆☆☆

The End. I am crying rereading this, I can't believe I started this fic as a sequel to @daechwitatamic's What Was Hidden fic and now I'm 223.9k words later into a story that will forever hold a special place in my heart. What did you guys think of it? Was the end fitting for our favourite couple?

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hyunsvngs · 7 months

Text

kinktober !

kink: frottage

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader x yang jeongin

wc: 1.9k

frottage: sexual rubbing; non-penetrative sex, typically male-on-male.

You couldn't help but clench your thighs together, the growing pressure between them making your heart race. Your hand hovered above the doorbell to Chan's apartment; you were taunting yourself. The anticipation was your favourite part, after all.

You would have laughed aloud at that, if you weren't worried the resident inside would hear you. Your favourite part was having Chan's big fat cock buried deep inside you, undoubtedly. He was your favourite booty call. Well, one of your favourites.

Not sure you could hold off for much longer, you rang the bell. Judging by how soon the door was answered, he couldn't wait any longer either. You smirked. It swung open to reveal… Jeongin?

Shit.

Your other favourite booty call. And Chan's roommate. You didn't think he'd be here tonight. In all fairness, you hadn't asked, but neither of them had ever invited you over when the other was home.

"Well," Jeongin spoke, leaning against the doorframe. "Fancy seeing you here. I was thinking about calling tonight, actually."

You pouted. "Jeongin, no! You weren't supposed to be here. Now I have to choose."

Chan cleared his throat, pulling the door open further to reveal himself standing in the hallway. "You don't have to choose. If you don't want to."

You stared at him for a moment. "You mean…?"

Jeongin smiled impishly. "The three of us? I kinda like the sound of that."

Chan looked to you, raising an eyebrow in question. "Y/N? Would you be down for that?"

Had this been his plan all along? you wondered - before realising you really didn't care if this had been orchestrated or not.

"Are you kidding me? This is a dream come true." You stepped into their apartment boldly, ridding yourself of your coat. "Where are we doing this?"

Chan grinned at your absolute readiness, heading into his bedroom and beckoning you both in. It was set up nicely, as it always was, his wall lights illuminating the space with a welcoming glow.

Before you could even take a seat on the edge of Chan's bed, Jeongin had wrapped an arm around you, pulling you to him and kissing you deeply. You let out a squeak before settling into the kiss, letting his tongue play with yours. This didn't surprise you one bit. Jeongin was always cocky and eager, but today he had something to prove to his older roommate. Tonight, Jeongin would be ramped up to eleven.

Chan had taken a seat on his bed, leaning back and palming his growing bulge through his sweatpants. Calm, patient, he knew he'd get his turn. It was interesting that this dynamic was playing out just as you'd expected. You wondered if there was anything you could do to subvert things…

You tugged at Jeongin's waistband. "Off. Now."

Jeongin looked at you, slightly puzzled. He wasn't accustomed to being told what to do. And honestly, you weren't sure how it was going to go. Part of you thought he was going to put you in your place. But it seemed that this night was about trying new things for everyone. He pulled off his shirt, followed by his trousers.

You turned to Chan. "You too." You had no doubt that he was going to follow your instructions. His cheeks were flushed red with arousal already.

"Aw, Jeongin," you turned back to him. "Getting hard already?"

The steely look in his eye told you there was only so much backtalk he was going to tolerate. "Don't act like your pussy's not dripping wet already."

You had nothing to say to that.

You went to the bed, climbing atop the boy who wasn't sassing you. Chan welcomed you onto his lap eagerly, hands palming your ass so quickly you thought it must've been a primal impulse. You pressed your body flush against his, your clothed chest pushing firmly against his bare, toned pecs. You captured his plump bottom lip between your own, enticing a low groan from the man. You took his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it lightly. Your attention was torn between the whimpering man beneath you, and the one who you knew was watching.

A thin string of saliva connected your lips to Chan's when you pulled away, which he licked up happily.

"Let me see. Please." Chan's voice was barely above a whisper. He was always so quiet in the bedroom - until he cums, at least.

You knew from experience exactly what he was after. You took off your tank top, overtaken with the need to give the sweet man below you anything he desired. He wasted no time in burying his face in your chest, sucking hickeys across your tits, kneading at your ass as he did so.

You threw your head back with a moan. Jeongin, completely unwilling to let you forget about him even for a second, took a step closer to the bed, thrusting his hips forwards and letting his cock push into your cheekbone.

"Jesus, Innie," you huff. "You're gonna put my eye out with that thing. If you want me to suck it, just ask."

Jeongin grinned. "Why should I? I never need to ask." He pushed his tip firmly down onto your waiting tongue, dragging it across the muscle slowly. You closed your eyes, waiting for him to force his dick deeper into your mouth so you could wrap your lips around it. It wasn't long before he did so, thrusting into your throat and making you choke - he loved to catch you off-guard.

He found a rhythm, fucking into your mouth as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking tightly. Meanwhile, Chan's lips had found your nipple, licking and biting at it gently, and he was grinding up against you as he did so. His dick felt impossibly hard, and you yearned to touch it. God, you wished you were better at multitasking.

Chan's words echoed through your head. You don't have to choose.

The instant the idea came to you, you were up, letting Jeongin’s dick fall from your mouth and tearing your nipples away from Chan's suckling.

"Jeongin," you pointed at him. "Straddle Chan. Now."

He couldn't help but laugh at your sudden authority. "What?"

"Do it!" you insisted firmly. "I… It's something I saw in porn, okay? Just do it."

Chan shrugged.

"Alright, little miss porn director," Jeongin murmured as he obeyed, climbing onto Chan, one leg either side of his waist.

"Like this?" he asked you. Jeongin's longer dick was just centimetres away from Chan's thicker one, and the sight made your clit throb desperately. Chan's cock twitched ever so slightly, bridging the gap and meeting Jeongin's.

"Yeah," you nodded, eyes wide. "Like that."

With your saliva, and a few beads of precum, it was wet but nowhere near wet enough. You grabbed the lube from Chan's nightstand (peach flavoured, of course) and hopped onto the bed beside them. You squirted a generous dollop of lube into your hand, and shared it across both of your palms. You grabbed a dick in each hand, slicking them up. The men moaned in unison, like the most perfect fucking symphony you'd ever heard.

You eased into it gently, starting by touching the tips of their dicks together as you stroked them. You looked at them both, trying to gauge their reactions.

Chan looked like he was about to blow already, and you'd only just begun. His hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat, his lip caught between his teeth. You could tell he was concentrating on holding back his pleasure - he didn't want to cum just yet, not at all.

Jeongin's eyes were fixated on your movements, his brow furrowed deeply. He was letting out soft groans every few seconds, enjoying this too much to even let out any snarky comments.

It was a struggle, given how well-equipped both men were, but you managed to wrap one hand around both of their dicks, squeezing them together in your grasp. Jeongin's moans picked up, absolute music to your ears, whilst Chan began to whimper softly.

It was undoubtedly the hottest sight you'd ever encountered, and the fact that this was entirely your arrangement only turned you on more. You slipped your spare hand into your panties, toying with your clit as you jacked the boys off together.

This didn't go unnoticed by Jeongin, who scoffed. "Look at you, you're fucking loving this. Dirty girl."

"This is fucking hot, okay?" you grumbled.

Jeongin smirked. "God, I wanna fuck the whore out of you so bad."

You shook your head at him. "You cum on Chan's dick, or you don't cum at all." He huffed, but didn't fight back.

The tip of Chan's dick seemed to be growing redder by the second - a tell-tale sign that he couldn't hold back much longer. This was unsurprising, given how desperate he'd been when he called you earlier, to let you know that he'd been edging all day and needed to see you.

"Jeongin. Play with Chan's nipples."

You'd only been around 50% sure that Jeongin would follow your orders, but thankfully he listened, reaching a hand across to tweak Chan's right nipple. He didn't go easy on the older man, twisting harshly and making him cry out. It made you ponder… you knew Chan liked having his nipples abused. Did Jeongin know that too, or was it a lucky guess?

You pulled your hand out of your panties, giving their dicks your full attention. You were desperate for your own pleasure, but you knew they'd both be fighting to eat your pussy the second you let them.

Chan's moans began to grow louder, and more high-pitched.

"This feel good, Channie?" you cooed at him.

"Yeah," he whined. He looked from you to Jeongin frantically. "I'm gonna - Can I-"

You nodded. "Let go, babe, cum all over Innie's dick for me."

He came mere seconds later, pearly white cum oozing from the tip of his dick and pouring down Jeongin's shaft. You continued to stroke their dicks relentlessly, your hands getting stickier and stickier.

"Fuck!" Jeongin let out a strangled groan. "It's so warm."

Chan cried out louder, the longer you continued to rub his dick against his friend's. He was whimpering with every breath, cursing incoherently, begging for something you couldn't quite make out.

Jeongin's hips stuttered. You wrapped your hands tightly around the two cocks before you, and allowed him to thrust into the tight gap, turning you into makeshift fleshlight for them to share.

"Oh, god," Chan moaned. "This is too much - Jeongin, Jeongin, please fucking cum."

Jeongin leaned forwards, bracing his hands against the headboard, and thrusted with a new tenacity. "I'm - I'm not far off, I swear-"

"Cum, Jeongin, please!"

Chan's begging seemed to tip him over the edge, and Jeongin came, his cum shooting upwards and painting the expanse of Chan's abdomen and chest. His thrusts slowed to a stop, and he sat back, panting.

You can't hold back your laughter. "I think this is the quickest I've ever seen you cum, Jeongin. You really enjoyed that, huh?"

Jeongin flopped back onto the bed, on the other side of Chan, and nodded with a grin.

"I'm covered in so much cum," Chan mumbled, sounding tired.

"Boohoo," you mocked him. "Welcome to my life." Jeongin chuckled at that.

"Let's go shower," you suggested. "And then we can see who can make me cum quicker."

Chan's eyes glinted. He looked across to Jeongin, who looked rather confident himself too.

"Deal," they said in unison.

892 notes · View notes

neonovember · 11 months

Note

hiiii

could you write carmy x reader where she’s a high school friend and carmy always had a crush on her (but he thought she had a crush on mikey) ???? like maybe richie brings her up, and that she’s still in town and SINGLE and carmy gets red like a tomato and ??? richie makes her visit the beef and candy almost has a heart attack?? idk give me some in love carmen !!

pretty pleaseee and thank u

so I got this request and I immediately thought of swim by chase atlantic, and specifically the line that goes;

“I’ve been drowning for a minute, your body keeps pulling me in”

And holy shit if that isn’t Carmen in his denial-in-love with a long time friend era, I don't know what is. Carmen tries too hard to forget you, but you've marked permanently, you've ruined him for anyone else so can you blame him for waiting for you all this time?

Seriously though this request was so good! I got a bit carried away and turned into a 2 part series that may or may not have drabbles added to the universe…I really hope this isn't just a load of word vomit you don't want to read lmao. I just love their dynamic so much, and also FRIDAY DINNERS AT THE BEEF IS CANON OKAY.

Golden Boy

part one of 2

warnings: miscommunication (i know i'm sorry), friends to lovers, carmen and the reader have horrible communication skills and don't know how to call, angst, anxiety

a/n: part two will be up hopefully tomorrow so look out! it may or may not include a smut scene 😈

p.s, listen to swim whilst reading this you'll thank me later

You sat hunched in the tight enclosure of the classroom desk chairs, the once loud conversations fluttering across the huddled groups of classmates and friends that stood against tables and chairs now coming to a standstill.

The air of anxious trepidation falls across the atmosphere of the damp classroom, the windows that had been opened to let the air in felt thin as you and the rest of the students you had known for half a decade waited for that familiar ring of the bell.

The bell that would solidify your last day in this classroom, in these run down halls, in the school you had first stumbled into anxious and oblivious at thirteen.

Your heart ached at the nostalgia of it, and you can't bear to cast your gaze to your friends who had begun to sniffle, like they were holding back tears, the grandfather clock your geography teacher insisted on keeping ticked on as it always did, and whilst you had spent years burning holes through the glass, willing for it to go faster, your one dying wish is for the seconds to tick by in minutes.

You weren’t ready, it ran straight through you, all this time leading up, from when you had first learnt your desire to pursue architecture till the moment you finished that last sentence on your final exams, you felt you would be filled with joy at the sound of your true departure into adulthood and college.

And yet, you felt like a kid again, learning how to ride a bicycle without the training wheels, trying to reach the fifth monkey bar, falling headfirst into the dirt ground of the field when you had thought you were more flexible then you truly were.

You didn’t want to leave, you didn't want to leave this place, this place of memories and friends and people you knew and loved. And it was as if God was listening, cause the resounding echo of the school bell rang through the halls and it was as if he said ‘fuck you anyway’.

You gather the haphazard books and papers laying across your desk, you had purposefully delayed packing in order to waste as much time in this memory as possible, before adulthood would take it away and make it something of the past. You hear your friends calling your name, and you tell them to go ahead as you make your way to your teachers desk.

“Hey Mr Jefferson” You say to your teacher has begun to bid goodbye to the leaving students

Your teacher looks up at you with a tight smile, sadness washes over the wrinkles and creases of her features, her auburn hair falling in short waves at her shoulder and her olive lipstick wearing down. You have to swallow to stop the tears from dropping. Your Geography teacher, whilst not teaching Art, had been the catapult to realizing your fascination with Architecture and design. She had even helped tell your parents, who had been set on the idea of you going into Law or Medicine or anything other than creative arts.

“You’ll do amazing, I believe it because I see how hard you try. Don’t look back at this place, leave with the door wide open and come back only when you want to design me a house” Your Teacher replies with a grin, and before you can reply shes shuffling through her drawers, before pulling out a sketchbook that has been aged and stained with use over the years.

“What’s this?” You ask, twisting the book in your hand, it was good quality, despite being old, it felt like an heirloom.

“It’s one of my sketchbooks I had during college, maybe some of my late night sketches fuelled by coffee and donuts might inspire you”

“I couldn't possible-”

“Yes you could, hell whatever you create will probably be 10 x greater than whatever is in there” Your teacher cuts you off with a chuckle, and you hug the notebook tight against your chest before hugging her goodbye.

You step into the familiar walls of your high school hallways, crowds of seniors running to find their friends and hug them for possibly the last time, test papers and report cards left trampled on the ground, it's chaos, but you love it and the sight almost pulls tears down your waterline.

You walk towards your locker, before you recognize the familiar wisps of blond curls catch your eyesight. Carmen. You considered him one of your closest friends, bonding together over a love of game** and your equal hatred of your Period 4 Calculus teacher.

Carmen didn't have much when I came to be friends, and after he met you, it didn't really get to him anymore, he had you now, and you were more than enough. Over the years you had gotten close to every part of Carmen's life, Mickey, Richie, Sugar, they were all people you regarded as family.

But there was something unsaid between the both of you, it was like there was something beyond friendship, but the embers had just gathered and had left unignited.

He’s gathering his things from his locker, shoving them into a bag in that messy way he is, and he slams the locker with a jolt.

You're standing stationary in the middle of the hallway, classmates and other seniors running by you in confusion, your friends calling your name annoyed, but it's all muffled, it all doesn't matter because it's Carm and god your heart aches so bad.

You see Carmen and he sees you, stopping a few meters away from you, and a moment of recognition washes over him as he gazes with those cerulean blues. There's grief in the way you look at each other, tears streaming down your cheek as you try to smile at him, realising this might be the last time you see him, forever, off to an Art school in New York, leaving him behind. You feel like your heart is being ripped from your chest and he shakes his head, his eyebrows scrunching up as he steps closer so that he’s only a whisper from you.

He brings his hand up, brushing a strand and tucking in behind your ear, eyes strained as he wipes your tears away painfully. He moves closer, so that his breath is against your neck and whispers

“Thought you told me you'd punch me in the stomach if I cried on the last day” Carmen whispers into your eyes with a grin that breaks through the tears that cause his eyes to swirl in colour's of waves.

His words make you laugh and cry at the same time, and you shake your head as you reach for his arm, and playfully hit your stomach with it. Carmen rests it against your waist, looking up to you in a pained expression, his eyes shift to the notebook grasped tight in your hands

“New sketchbook? That..doesn't look new” Carmen says, turning his head to examine the old book more closely.

“One of Mrs Jefferson’s, her sketches are..their fucking amazing” You sigh, running your hand across the folded spine of the sketch book.

“Thought teachers weren't meant to have favourites” Carmen shoots out, a playful grin on his lips

“Hmm, well they aren't supposed to tell you exactly” You banter with a giggle, you flick through the pages of the book, half drawn sketches in grey lead and ballpoint, Carmen tracing his fingers gently across the ingrained lines and shades.

“God you're something, you know that?” Carmen says, all of a sudden, and when you look up you realise he’s been staring at you the entire time.

“Bear..” You breathe out.

“I don't know how I'm going to-, I, it's all so much” You exhale, waving your arms around this place that has held so many memories, so much of your past kept in the creaks and cracks of plastered walls and lockers

“You're the only person in this goddamn place that's going to make something out of themselves, I bet my entire life on it Bug. You're going to do amazing, in that big city, you’re going to show em’' Carmen replies, grasping you against his touch tight. You look up at him, trying to memorise every dip and curve of his features, the curl of his hair that shone honey in the sun, those eyes that were always searching, and the small cut on his forehead where he fell off his skateboard that one summer evening.

“Don’t say goodbye”

“Okay” Your tongue feels like deadweight in your mouth. what if i never see you again?

“You say goodbye and it's the end. Just..don’t” I can't breathe carmy.

You can’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him, pressing your nose into his shirt to smell the scent of patchouli and cigarettes he always carried, you want to tell him to come with you, to pack an overnight bag and run with you forever, but the words don’t taste right when you try to speak and you see yourself letting him go, and turning away with a shaky step.

Turn back Carmen whispers, so softly that only the gods above and the wind around him can hear it

You feel an urge to turn back, it speaks to you from within, and before you can stop yourself, your neck cranes, turning your body to get one last look at your golden boy before time would take him forever.

Time would age him into a memory forever.

Carmen feels this tension leave his shoulders at the same time his heart shatters, you will find each other again, even if it was in another universe, where you're sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, going over groceries together with the afternoon light casting its glow across you. He will find you, he will find you and he won’t let go this time.

“Honestly Ma, it’s fine, I’ll get the movers to come in a little early”. You groan into the phone pressed to your ear, papers and unresolved bills are left scattered across your dining room table and you have this itch that's begun to turn chronic somewhere you can’t reach.

You take a moment to look around your apartment, now barren of furniture, and filled instead with boxes of badly organised stuff you've accumulated over the years. This place, albeit small, had been your home ever since you stepped out of the yellow cabbed taxi on your first day in New York, and whilst it wasn't pretty, you felt a pang of guilt leaving it all behind. These walls had seen you through it all, the late night study cram’s, the breakdowns, the accomplishments, the one night stands. You'd miss her, but maybe you were just a nostalgic person.

You’ve made a life in New York, but you felt misplaced, like pieces of yourselves were scattered across the states. Chicago kept a part of you, and it was only when you had gotten the chance to move back home, did it click. You missed your city. And you had cut your lease and emptied out the last of your savings without a second thought.

Now all that was left was tying up loose ends and making the trip down. It was funny, in a way. You had run to New York to pursue architecture, and it brought you back to the very same place you had left, there was a certain trepidation when you thought of Chicago, it held so much of your past, in its city streets and evergreen trees, and you don’t know if you were quite ready to face those memories again.

It still smelled the same. You itch your nose, sniffling against the blooming scent of cocoa and caramel from the Chicago roads, all this time, and all that you can tell is how it still smelt like maple leaves and chocolate. It was comforting, and it felt like the warm embrace of a childhood friend that had stayed sitting on the corner of your suburban street corner all this time.

“Thank you Mae, really, I got the call last minute in New York to come back here and if it weren't for you, I’d be moving back into my old bedroom at my parents” You reply, gratitude filling every word. It was true, your friend had swooped in the second you called, fixing you up with a lease and an apartment with her realtor links. She came in a clutch, and she had made you promise to never leave her again in exchange.

“Oh shush doll, of course. This is probably payment for all the times I’ve crashed at yours anyway” Mae winks, the bracelets on her wrist clinking against each other. She didn't look like a typical realtor, more like a bohemian solo-traveller with her filly skirts and auburn red hair.

“I’m not going to let a degree transform my entire wardrobe, my clothes are antiques, their heirlooms, they tell a story”

She had told you once, one late night on the rooftop of your New York apartment, sipping cheap wine and passing a blunt between you both. You wish you had known yourself as much as she did then.

She had visited you a couple times in New York, coming up for work and spending the time at yours instead of spending thousands on an Airbnb, but it had been a while since you've seen her, and all of a sudden you remember how much you missed her laugh.

“I’ve got some time to spend before it’s all hand on deck” You reply, placing the last of your boxes onto the empty wooden floor of the living room.

“Oh yeah? Can’t believe you’re gonna design a whole building on Michigan Av’, your a fucking inspiration Bug” Mae sighs in adoration, and you giggle, the feeling of embarrassment filling you at the mention of your reason back home.

You never got used to the praise and adoration you received over the years, despite your many accolades and awards, you still felt like that hopelessly broke architect student giving up lunch to pay rent. You didn’t remember when things started to change. When did things start to change?

“You know, if you’ve got time, you should check out the Farmers Market near River North” Mae replies, whilst flicking through her phone

“The one on Division Street?” You reply, you had a faint memory of the long strip of stalls filled with fresh produce, food and the rest of the little trinkets that were sold since you were born on the pleated table cloth of sheltered booths.

“That’s the one, this guy named Samson? Makes the best fucking bearclaw in the entire United States. Tell him you're a friend of mine and he'll hook you up…you know since you can't afford it” Mae replies playfully, and you roll your eyes with a laugh.

“Yeah yeah, you hook up with him or something?” You poke back, Mae had the tendency to know everyone in Chicago, from the mailman to the old woman you’d see feeding the bids on a park bench.

“Yeah, actually I did. Not like you could relate, how long has it been, hm?” Mae replies, stepping forward to whisper down at your pants.

“I’m so sorry she hasn't been taking care of you. What are you, mummify her?” Mae looks up from her crouched position with a raised eyebrow.

“Ugh, you know I've been too busy to think about that. She’s gonna have to be patient” You reply, you don’t want to think about how long it has actually been, since you've had any type of release. But the tension has begun to weigh on your shoulders as time went on and you fear it might become something you can’t ignore.

You begin to move some boxes into your bedroom, thanks to your planning your large furniture such as your bed and coach, had been moved into the apartment before the rest of the things had got here, so at least you wouldn't be sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Changing into a pair of dark jeans and a short sleeve top, you loop an embroidered handbag onto your shoulder.

“So, you coming?” You call to Mae, who’s begun to fill your fridge with the groceries she's swung by with.

“Sure would Bug, but got a call to come in. I’ll come by again later this evening though?” Mae replies, with a grunt as she lifts the 2 litre bottle of milk onto one of the drive shelves.

“Yes please, I’m dying for a glass of wine”

“And a blunt” Mae replies, snickering at the way you roll your eyes at her.

Mae offers to drop you off, but you wave her off, telling her you wanted to see a little more of your hometown. You needed some fresh air that wasn't the coffee and smoke scent of the New York streets.

The walk to the Farmers market was a short one, but you felt like you were wading through a current. By the way the memories of your past began to resurface as you passed the streets and shops. Every corner holds a part of you, and you have to rush by your old school to stop the pang of pain that surprises you. You weren't an emotional person, but god it was almost as if you were hanging by a thread the second you touched down on Chicago.

What was causing this? You felt like you were holding your breath as you stepped through the fallen autumn leaves marking the sidewalk, the gentle sun on your back, what were you waiting for?

You tear yourself from your thoughts momentarily when you catch the looming buildings that had been built on ions ago, the infrastructure of Chicago still enamoured you, in a way that couldn't be beaten by even New York’s impossible skyscrapers.

There was a charm to it, each of the buildings felt like you were stepping into a different decade, they had been the stepping stones to a lot of the infrastructure and architecture that spread into other cities. You felt like you were at the start of it all every time your eyes trailed across the facade and arcades of the century old stone buildings.

Without realising, you had finally made it to the Farmers Market, the constant stream of people coming in and out with boxes of produce or hauling wooden antiques with very audible grunts. You can’t stop the smile stretching your face as you step through the embroidered banner at the front of the street.

Despite the many different stalls and food around you, you don't feel overstimulated. This was your home, you felt like you belonged, like a name scratched into wet cement, remaining ingrained for years no matter the seasons that came.

You go over the haphazard list of things you wanted to look for in your mind, but you're caught off guard by a stall that seemed to be huddled by patrons. You step towards it, and as people move aside you see the blooming flowers and carefully wrapped banquets in woven wooden baskets to the side of the stall. A short woman with light brown curls is standing at the front, taking down orders with a grin, whilst a rather tall man behind her makes quick work to wrap delicate orders into soft brown parchment paper tied with string.

And all of a sudden the need to buy pink tulips becomes your first priority. The woman at the front looks familiar, but you can't quite put your finger on where you've seen her, but as you walk up to the front her face morphs into familiar as she looks up at you in surprise.

“As I live and breathe” She says your name with a screech and it's her voice that pulls her name to your mouth. Adeline, a close friend from senior year who’d taught you how to crochet and pick a lock.

“Bug? How've you been? What brings you back to town?” Ade replies after telling the man behind her your order without you even saying a thing.

“Tulips, pink ones right?” Ade grins, and you have to let out a chuckle at how you haven't changed even a little.

“Got invited to join in designing a new building on Michigan Avenue, so I'll be back for a while-”

“Michigan Avenue? Holy shit Bug! You’re making moves, knew you always were special” Adeline replies with a gushing smile and you rush to reply with the same adoration

“Are you kidding, look at this line” You motion to the increasing line of people forming at Adeline's stall.

“People love their flowers” Adeline replies with a shrug before you shake your head vehemently

“No, they love your flowers, and for good reason, look at these” You gush, pressing your face into the bundle of tulips that had been handed to you.

“They only look that good because Henry's so good at wrapping them” Adeline replies with a laugh, her eyes flicking to the brown haired man dressed in corduroy behind her. A look passes between them that tells you there was more than love between them.

“Henry huh?” You reply with a grin, and the man is quick to introduce himself, and you don’t ignore the cold press of an encrusted band on his ring finger as he shakes your hand with a soft smile.

And it's as if Adeline reads your mind and she slips her left hand in yours, looking up at you with a teary grin.

“Yes, yes I know, I should've called, and I’m so sorry-”

You press yourself against her, leaning over the stall to wrap your arms around her. You whisper words of congratulation, shutting down any words that hinted at you being mad at her.

It wasn't her fault, it should be you she's mad at, you hadn’t really made that much of an effort to keep in contact with your friends back at home, and the reality of it weighed on you heavy now, you had missed so many milestones of your loved ones, all to chase your own dreams in New York.

You felt like you were constantly playing catch up, and you couldn't lie when a strange feeling crept up at the thought of your friends moving on with life. You were so incredibly happy for Adeline, and you were even more elated when she had told you of the Wedding in April that you had to come to.

But that didn't stop that same strange feeling of being behind everyone else, you had spent so long climbing the ladder to wear what you wear now, relationships and love weren't even a thought, you filled your nights with studying and drawing and the occasional fling, but nothing more. And now doubts had begun to creep in, had you missed out?

Watching everyone around you get married and have kids whilst you were still drawing buildings in that same sketchbook your teacher had given you 8 years ago. You’re not looking as you walk past the many stalls of the Farmers market, and it is your thoughts again that causes you to accidentally stumble into the hard muscle of a man back. You feel yourself falling, before arm's reach out, grabbing you quickly to stop you from ending flat on your face.

You breath out a sigh of relief, shaking a head at your clumsiness

“God, ‘m so sorry, I’ve just been in my head, I wasn’t looking where i was going-”

“Holy fuck” Your quick to spit an apologetic thanks, you haven't even looked up to see who you've dubbed into, and when the sound of surprise meets your ease you look up, only to be remain stone faced with your mouth left open.

“Richie?” You say, the shock of it is still in the air. You hadn't expected to see him in Chicago, or maybe you did and it was sooner than you thought.

“When did you get back? Holy shit, thought we wouldn't see you again” Richie replies with a smile

“Yeah uh, came down for some work for a little while. How, uh How are things” You reply with a squeak, you can’t bear to say what you're thinking and Richie nods, a look of acknowledgement in his face. Mickey’s death had shaken you, it had changed you in its own way, and you still grief him, it still hurts when Richie's face kinda falls and melts at the reminder of his best friend's death.

“After, uh, after Mickey, he had left the restaurant, you know, the Beef?” You nod in agreement, the hazy memory of the sandwich shop on the corner of Chicago's, busiest streets, you stomach rumbles at the thought of one of those sandwiches you'd down in less than a minute during your high school years.

“Yeah well, get this, he left it to Carmen. And honestly, I was hesitant at first, real hesitant, I love him, but god, he's a self centred ass coming in like he knew everything, spewing the bullshit CDC shit he learnt up in the big apple? He changed things, and you know how I feel about change, but he made it better, I can;t lie, and you better not tell him this, but the Beef actually..” Richie’s familiar rambles are muffled to your ears, the only thing you can hear is Carmen.

Everything zones out as you scrunch your eyebrows, wincing almost, at the pain and it shocks you, it shocks you how the very name of him still brings back those memories. You still hurt the same way you did the day you left him.

You must have looked out of it, as Richie shakes your shoulder, anchoring you back to the present, and you have to swallow back the bite of pain that bleeds through your chest.

“Did you hear what I said? The Beef’s holding a little family dinner tomorrow, shutting down the shop early, inviting only friends and family, it’ll be like a little reunion for you! You have to come” Richie replies, and you nod trying to seem present.

Carmen took over the Beef? He was in New York? What?

Your mind is scattered with the uproar of questions you have, the thought of Carmen, the memory of him is like a fresh wound. It un tethered and opens up a thread of thoughts and emotions you had thought you bottled up and threw deep into the ocean.

“You, you still talk to him right? Ya’ll were pretty close growing up, like fucking thieves attached to the hip if i can remember” Richie chuckles, fondly remembering the two of you.

You cough back, smiling up at him as you trying to reply coherently

“Yeah, uh sometimes you know” You lie

No. You haven't spoken to him since you left, and it feels like your tongue falls dead when you try to say his name again. You hadn't called and he hadn't picked up. Carmen told you not to say goodbye, but the truth was it had been the end of you even before you had both realised.

You had spent years pretending like Carmen not calling you, not making an effort to see you after everything didn’t burn, but the reality of it had marked you in a way that felt eternal.

“So you're coming, yeah? You and Carmen can finally catch up” Richie replies with a smile, and look of something passes through his eyes before it leaves, and you have to smile back with a nod, like you and Carmen were still close, like you don't feel that he might turn you away or scream at you the second he saw you, like you weren't both irrevocably in love with each other.

Bear. You missed him, you are shocked by how much you do, you thought bottling up your memories and emotions about him and stuffing them so far back into your mind you forgot would actually change anything. There had always been this lingering thought, at the recesses of your mind, the last thing you imagined before you fell asleep, the feeling that filled you the second you came back to Chicago, it was all Carmen, it was all your golden boy.

And now you would have to see him, in less than a day you would be in the same room as Carmen Berzatto, you don't want to say it, you don't want to speak it into acknowledgement but deep down, you wanted to see him again.

Beyond it all, you both were bonded in friendship, sharing something you didn't even have with Adeline or Mae, and you had felt like a part of yourself was missing each day that went passed without hearing from him. Had he forgotten you? Had it been as hard for him to go on with life? He had been in New York for christ sake, he didn't even think to visit you, that thought alone made you want to run back home and never come out.

You couldn't bare the possibility of exposing yourself to such heartache, to the chance of being rejected by the very person who you forever longed for. You were always searching for him, looking through crowds to see the familiar curl of his brown hair, or the scent he carried, ears always leaning in, trying to see if it would catch his syrupy baritone voice.

The two of you were forever connected, like the roots of trees spanning miles under the Earth. The kind of companionship that transcended time and space, and god did you want to feel the sharp edge of his jaw between your hands.

You couldn't stop it now, Richie had opened something you kept locked and sunk for a reason, and now it felt like you would break if you didn't see Carmen. Even if it would break you, even if it was the one thing in this world that would destroy you,

You had to see your golden boy.

1K notes · View notes

scudslut · 3 months

Text

A Summer Wasting

daryl x fem!reader

wordcount: 0.8k

warnings: nothing, just pure fluff 🫶🏻

The falling sun felt warm against your skin as you walk through the prison courtyard. You’ve always enjoyed the Georgian sunsets growing up; after a long day of brutal heat, the world gave a soft reprieve, illuminating the sky in its vast colours for anybody to enjoy, pessimist or not.

These days it was hard not to be… with death looming around each corner, the scent constantly coating the air that you’d honestly forgotten a time it hadn’t.

You found yourself searching for things. Things you could mindlessly enjoy, to bring small happinesses into this dull life. You took note of the sky as you walked, sunsets.

You continued, closing your eyes momentarily as you walked, trying to immerse yourself in that warm light fully. Right now you were looking for a mirror of sorts, figuring one of the car windows would serve you best in your task. Spotting the rusted Jeep closest, you head towards it climbing onto the hood.

You had just finished showering and remembered how much you loved braiding your hair as a kid, finding the simple task so peaceful whether you knew it back then or not. You remembered how happy you’d be waking up the next morning, taking them out to let the soft waves cascade down your shoulders. Braids, you had noted.

Situating yourself, you take in your reflection in the windshield and begin parting your hair in two sections to make twin French braids. The dirt-covered window didn’t offer much but it was enough.

Humming quietly under your breath, you start the process, folding each strand over and under and over again, listening to the crickets as they began their nightly melodies. You’re so invested in your movements, that you almost miss the sounds of footsteps on gravel approaching you.

“What are ya doin’ on there,” Daryl grunts, confusion and slight annoyance mixed within his tone.

“My hair,” you answer curtly with a small smile, you thought it was quite obvious.

He eyed you momentarily, seemingly still lost as to why you could be seated on the beloved Jeep. “Fer what?”

You finally turn to him, your hands holding your spot in the braid to not lose it, “Because I wanted to, and they look real pretty in the morning when I take them out,” you answer, turning back to your reflection, finishing the first braid.

“Ain’t gotta doll yerself up for the walkers y’know, they’ll eat ya just fine,” he quips causing you to huff, now in your own annoyance.

“It’s not for anybody but me, Daryl. It makes me happy, which isn’t something you come across easily these days,” You sigh.

Silence falls between the both of you, the crickets becoming even louder. You feel the vehicle dip beneath you and quickly snap your head around. You watch as Daryl plops himself up on the hood behind you, arms crossed over his knees, staring at you intently.

“What are you doing?” you ask bewildered. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to spend time together, it was just that typically you were the one to initiate any of it, following him around like a lost puppy the majority of the time.

“Wanna watch ya,” He simply replies, motioning for you to continue.

The next day you had spent in the gardens, tending to the small amount of crop your group had managed to accumulate since you took the prison. The sun once again was ruthless in its heat, beating down like drums and causing your wavy hair to stick to your neck.

You stood up from the soft dirt, dusting off your legs when you felt a presence sauntering up beside you. Lifting your head your eyes meet the familiar blue ones you had been gazing into just last night.

“Hey, Daryl,” you smile, receiving a small nod in return. He seemed to be contemplating something, unsure where to look as he chewed on his bottom lip. “Something I can do for you?”

He quickly shakes his head, ears already pink in embarrassment, “Nah, I- uh… I jus-,” he fumbles, “Ya look nice is all.”

The grin that overtakes your features is unavoidable, your heart swelling at his sweet compliment. You of course felt disgusting, sweaty, and mud-drenched from working all day, but the happiness that washed over you was unmistakable.

“Ya think?” you giggle, referencing to your dirty skin, “Good enough for the walkers?”

It’s small, but you catch it — the shy smile he hides as he bows his head in affirmation, “Oh ya, gonna start callin' you walker bait now,” he teases back and you can’t help the fit of giggles you break out into.

You share a few other words before he heads off toward the watch towers for his afternoon shift. You stare at his leather wings as his figure retreats in the distance, a fuzzy glow filling your senses.

Daryl, you note.

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gentaro-kinniecom · 18 days

Text

Oh..I think you’re holding the heart of mine..

Characters: Solivan Brugmansia/gn!reader

Cw: fluff, mentions of marriage, crushes, love at first sight (?), mentions of kidnapping, yandere themes…

A/n: This is based off day two of The kid at the back :] hope you guys enjoy!

(E/c) eyes lingered across the room, trying to distract themselves from the crimson orbs that stared at their figure, drawing it with a smile. Portraits aren’t that difficult when you know how to draw, except, their skills were quite rough, unlike Sol who was nearly finishing it, looking back and forth between y/n and his paper. Blush covered part of his cheeks, placing his sketchbook down while locking eyes with them

“Is it done?” Y/n asked, sighing as the bell rung across the hallway

“Not yet, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow” He responded with a soft smile, one they’ve rarely seen the times they saw him.

Going their separate ways, y/n found their group in the hallway making small talk as they arrived. It wasn’t long until Sol and his friend appeared, chatting as Sol’s gaze landed on them. Feeling a bit curious, Y/n excuses themselves, parting away from their friends while approaching Sol.

“You must be Y/n! Sol’s told me about you..he’s right, you are kind of cute..” The guy before them spoke while chuckling as Sol sighed, blushing while glaring at his friend

“Anyways, I’m Hyugo! We were just about to eat lunch on the roof, would you like to join?” Y/n looked back briefly at their group. Perhaps something different wouldn’t be so bad today. Crowe however, noticed their sudden disappearance, his sad gaze lingered as they left with the two boys walking across the small corridor.

“I’d love to..!” Hyugo chuckled as the three of them headed towards the roof. Upon arrival, Sol handed Hyugo a bento box filled with his favorite food. It didn’t take long for them to dig in as Y/n looked around the roof, admiring the city and the view it provided.

“Have you eaten yet, y/n?” Sol inquired, staring at their hands that fidgeted around their shirt. ‘hm, cute’ he thought. The sudden question returned them back to reality while answering.

“I didn’t get to eat anything but it’s okay, I’ll grab something later-“ Before they could finish their sentence, Solivan had already taken out the other box he had saved for later.

“I made three boxes today, just in case Hyugo’s appetite was insatiable so..you can take it”

“Are you sure? I mean..” Without any hesitation, Sol had already opened up the lunch box, handing them the tasty food he prepared while smiling, reaching for some utensils.

“You made this all by yourself? It looks so good..!” Y/n praised, taking the utensils Sol provided for them as Hyugo chimed in, swallowing his food gently while speaking

“Sol’s cooking is the best! He’d make a good househusband, don’t you think?” Hearing this, Sol blushed after seeing them nod, maybe being a househusband for Y/n wouldn’t be such a terrible idea after all..

“I think so too, maybe even one day, we could get married as well” They half-joked, watching as Solivan’s smile widened, taking hold of Y/n’s hand and bringing it forth, kissing their knuckles gently

“I’d..love that, no one could ever keep us apart.” Y/n’s eyes drifted to Sol’s gaze, watching as he pressed his cheek against their hand lovingly. Hyugo was nowhere to be seen as the bell rang. After packing everything up, Sol’s hand remained intertwined with their own

“Me and Hyugo were thinking of ditching class, he wanted to see a movie..what do you think?” Upon reaching the corridor, Y/n turned, facing Sol’s body that nearly towered over theirs while leaning forward

“I..-” Looking back at the door of their next class and Crowe who had suddenly exited the room,y/n nodded “-Fuck it, let’s skip.” With that, Sol escorted them towards their secret escape place, not bothered by the glare Crowe had given him as they left.

Due to Hyugo’s request to see the latest movie in theaters, the trio arrived at the cinema shortly after. The movie itself was great, though all y/n could think about was how close Sol was, his arm in their own while sharing popcorn and some small talk. Solivan was over the moon as he walked with them around the nearby park, Hyugo had retuned home afterwards, saying something along the lines of “I’ll leave you two lovebirds be, see you tomorrow” was spoken from his behalf.

The afternoon sun had already settled down, as colder it got, a shiver ran down Y/n’s spine. Sol noticed this, feeling a bit saddened by the fact he couldn’t lend them one of his jackets. Instead, he opted on holding their hand once again until the remainder of the walk to their apartment. Sol already dreaded the look of their place, if only he could take his beloved back to his home, maybe that way he wouldn’t have to worry for any creepy onlookers. As y/n took their keys from their bag, Sol quietly wished for their lips to mest in a kiss before they would lart ways. In that same moment, they leaned forward, kissing his cheek while entering their apartment

“Thank you for today, hopefully we’ll spend more outings like this soon..!”

“Like a date?” He chimed in, making them chuckle while tilting towards him. Their gaze flickered between his eyes and lips

“I wouldn’t oppose to such idea..goodnight Sol, text me when you arrive home” With a nod, Sol bid his goodbyes and left the apartment complex, his heart racing softly while replaying tge memory of their lips caressing his cheek

“Soon..soon enough you’ll be able to see just how much I adore you, my pumpkin”

#solivan brugmansia #sol brugmansia #solivan x reader #solivan brugmansia x reader #sol brugmansia x reader #tkatb sol #the kid at the back sol #tkatb

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ifancyharry · 1 year

Text

Bad habit (1)

In which YN is Harry’s daughter’s teacher, and she and Harry used to be friends in college; fluff; angst; dad!harry

Word count: 4.5k

First days of school were always chaotic, and YN, despite having been a teacher for two years of her life now, never got quite used to the tantrums little kids would throw on first days — and maybe the following week, or until they felt confident enough in the school environment that they didn’t miss their parents to the point of crying at the mere thought of them.

September always carried with it a nostalgic feeling that YN loved, and she usually found herself thinking about warm sunny August days spent sunbathing and eating pasta salads. Her teacher salary didn’t allow much room for vacations, but YN managed to always find contentment in the premises of her hometown.

That’s what she’s thinking about when she walks through the school’s doors that Monday morning, waving at a couple of her coworkers to greet them. She usually was far more chatty, but she was feeling fidgety at the thought of meeting her new baby students, and she didn’t trust herself enough to chat with someone; who knows what she could say!

No one truly understands YN, she’s younger than her coworkers and sometimes she feels like no one really cares about what she has to say. It’s been that way since she was a little baby, really, so she’s gotten quite used to it, and she doesn’t feel bad about it.

She often wonders if maybe there’s something wrong with the way she communicates, but her students seem to understand her rather well — as much as little kiddies can understand —, so she always crosses that thought off the list. It doesn’t necessarily have to mean there’s something wrong with her, so she doesn’t know why sometimes she wonders if things would be a little different if she was different in the first place.

She wishes it came a little easier, people never really seem to understand how hard it is to talk. It’s why she loves her job so much. Kids are easy to talk to, because most of the time they don’t remember conversations and they never question her on why she’s being quiet or in her mind, like most of her coworkers do.

The bell rings at 8.30 sharp, and YN tries to put on the most heartwarming smile she knows, because she understands sometimes first days can be though. And not just for kids.

“Hi!” She coos when she sees a little girl walking in her classroom holding her mum’s hand.

“I’m Miss YN, it’s a pleasure to meet you! What’s your name!”

The little girl hides behind her mum’s leg and YN frowns jokingly at her.

“She’s shy… her name’s Amy” the mum says, throwing YN an apologetic look.

“Hi, Amy! It’s okay. I understand shy.” She nods, crouching down on her legs to be at eye level with the small kid, “since you’re the first one, why don’t you choose your desk? Your mummy can help you pick it out?”

The little girl nods her head against her mother’s jeans and YN smiles brightly at her.

With time, more kids start to come in, and YN greets all of them, trying to be as warm as possible. She talks to their parents and lets them stay with their children until they get accustomed to the classroom. Some of them already have friends, and it’s always easier for them to let go of their parents’ hands; for others, it takes a while, and YN tries to be as understanding as possible, especially with them.

When the clock strikes 9 am, only one chair is empty, and she wonders if maybe the school had mistaken the number of students who’d come in. She’s about to introduce herself to the class of small kids that are looking at her with bright eyes and shy smiles, when she hears a knock on the opened door, her body turning quickly at the sound.

She feels lightheaded as she takes in the image in front of her, and she grimaces in surprise. It’s Harry. The Harry.

Many years have passed since the last time she saw him, but she knows she’d recognize him everywhere and in anytime.

He was three years older than her and used to hang out with her group. They attended the same creative writing class and she remembers how his knee used to brush against her thigh when he would fidget in his chair, readjusting his body as he cussed at the uncomfortableness of the wooden chairs.

She remembers how he always used to ask her for pens, sometimes for a spare sheet of paper or if he could borrow her laptop’s charger because “fuckin’ hell, — he would say, and YN would blush a little at the way he would close the space between them, reaching a hand to grab for the charger — mine's completely gone ’n all m’work’s in there! Days worth o’work!”

He’s standing against the doorway, his body leaning against it, holding a pouty little kid on his opposite hip.

He looks the same, a bit older, maybe, his hair less disheveled and his clothes more serious — he’s wearing grey tailored pants and a sweater vest with cherry blossom flowers on it, he lost the skinny jeans and his adored Chelsea boots, but it’s definitely still that guy she used to have a crush on all those years ago.

“YN?” Harry questions, tilting his head to the side in surprise. YN notices as the little girl in his hold buries her face in his neck, trying to hide from the attention.

“’s me, Harry! Y’remember, right? From college!” YN blushes a little at his words and tries to regain control of her body as she seems stuck to the linoleum floor.

She’s a little taken a back at his remark; he thought she wouldn’t remember him! How would that even be possible, YN doesn’t know.

His voice hasn’t changed, it’s still the same scruffy and deep voice she used to blush upon hearing, and she remembers vaguely that one time on one of their usual hang outs, when he picked up a guitar and started singing, a little drunk on cheap beer, and she remembers wondering how his voice would sound whispering tender words in her ear…

“Of course I remember!” She smiles, trying to hide her nervousness, “of course!” She repeats, and, deep within her, she really hopes she’s coming across as cool and not as that completely shy and weird girl who used to have tons of pens and a crush on her older classmate who seemed to always steal them.

“The world really is small, huh?” He remarks, a cheeky grin spreading across his mouth.

“Yeah” she breaths out, smiling shyly at him, “it is.”

“Teaching, huh? I can see it” he says, nodding his head as he looks her up and down jokingly, and YN feels herself fluster under his gaze. She doesn’t understand why she still longs for his approval, but there’s something really tantalizing in the way he said ‘i can see it’, as if he was telling her a secret about herself she couldn’t wait to hear.

“And who is this?” She replies quickly, tilting her head to take a closer look at the baby on his hip, hoping to shift the conversation from her to him. If he’s bothered by the sudden change, he doesn’t show it, instead, he brings a hand to cup the little girl’s head and pats at it gently, “This is Aidi” he smiles proudly, “m’daughter”.

Oh… Oh!. YN doesn’t know why she’s so surprised by his remark. If she remembers correctly — and she does, because YN isn’t one to forget details easily — he should be around 29 now, a perfectly appropriate age to have a three, four (YN can’t be sure, she looks small but she hasn’t seen her face still) child, as much as there really could be an appropriate age to be a parent.

Maybe, but she doesn’t like this thought and she doesn’t want to linger in it more than she needs, it’s what — or, should she say, who — comes with a child, that startles her: a partner; and at the idea of Harry being married, she feels lightheaded. It feels weird, thinking about the Harry she used to know, being married. Not that he wasn’t marriage material, he often used to say how he wanted to have a family pretty young, it’s just weird to her how his life could have gone on and there’s parts of it she wasn’t around to participate in.

She tries to scramble her brain and see if she remembers Instagram posts of her friends at his wedding, or at least an engagement dinner, but she can’t find any, but she isn’t sure if that’s because she isn’t in contact with her old friend group anymore.

“Hi, Aidi” she coos, raising her hand in a wave when the little girl raises her head from her father’s neck. “I’m YN, it’s very nice to meet you”

Aidi has light brown hair wrapped in a beautiful braid, and YN wonders if Harry was the one that did her hair or his partner did, her eyes are unmistakably her father’s, a deep shade of green, with a little twinkle to them that makes them so unique.

YN remembers many times where she had found herself thinking of the correct term to name the color of his eyes, if ever it existed, and she always came back empty handed. When she thought they were a deep forest green, he would look at her and they’d be a mix of green water, like the color the lake behind her grandparent’s house would turn out in the spring. Other times — YN noticed mostly at night —, they would be a dark shade of green, like the way a forest would look in the rain if she lived in a dark academia movie.

Aidi opens her pouty lips to let out a shy ‘hi’, but when YN takes a step closer to them, she snuggles closer to Harry, clutching his sweater in her small hands.

“’s the reason we’re late…” he sighs, “she’s nervous” he explains, and he lowers his head to look at his daughter’s face, the arm that’s holding her against him flexes a little and Aidi squirms in his hold, holding tighter — if possible — on his shoulders.

“It’s okay” YN smiles softly, but she isn’t talking to him, “first days can be a little though, huh?”

Aidi nods her head against her father’s neck and YN raises her eyes to meet Harry’s, and she flusters when she realizes he was already looking at her, an amused twinkle shading his gaze.

He tries to lower her down on the ground, but the little girl just squeezes his sweater tighter and kicks her legs out in protest, so Harry raises again with a sigh and Aidi resumes happily her previous position on his hip.

“Y’re bein’ irrational about this” he stresses, but YN looks at him amused, because it’s not like a little kid understands what ‘being irrational’ means.

“I’m s’sorry” he smiles nervously, shaking his head, “she’s not usually like this.”

“’s okay, you could… you could stay, for today… let her get comfortable?” YN suggests in a low voice, hoping Aidi isn’t listening to her. She doesn’t know if Harry needs to go to work, despite how much the school advises the parents to take the first day off, because children never really go willingly and always need a little push, she doesn’t know if he received the email, perhaps his wife did and didn’t let him know? YN feels silly for thinking like this. She’s usually rational about these kinds of things, and she never lets herself linger in inappropriate thoughts about her students’ parents, but he isn’t just a parent, and despite him being someone else’s Harry, there was a time where she fantasized he could be her’s.

Fantasized is the correct term, because as I said YN is pretty rational in her daily life and even in her daily daydreaming, and she knows rather well how Harry never even spared her a thought, in college. She was just the girl that lent him pens.

“Figure I could stay” he nods, more to himself really, and YN wonders if maybe he has to inform someone that he’s not coming home right after dropping Aidi off, “really just needed to go grocery shopping, but I guess we’ll go after, huh?”

Aidi seems to light up at the suggestion and she raises her head to look around the classroom.

“Daddy is stayin’?” She asks hopefully to YN, and when she nods her head, Aidi squirms in her dad’s hold and demands to be let down.

Harry chuckles at his daughter and throws a quick amused glance at YN when Aidi begins to tug him towards a small, baby blue, round table, where a couple of kids are coloring a drawing YN had printed out and left on the table before their arrival that morning.

Harry isn’t the only parent that stayed, and despite some of her coworkers disapproving of her method of teaching, she knows the kids had to warm up to her slowly, and if she demanded the parents off, it would be extremely difficult to get in their good graces.

She understood first days could be though, and she remembers how hard it was for her every time she started something new, a feeling that never really leaves you (not even many years later, when she no longer has first days), so she would let the parents stay as long as they could.

Of course, when she suggested Harry to stay, she only had Aidi’s best interest at heart, it wasn’t like she wanted him to stay, and perhaps talk to him, or maybe catch him looking at her with the corner of her eye when she was busy playing blocks with a baby student. It wasn’t like that at all. So why was her skin burning under his gaze for all the two hours he colored with his daughter?

…

Harry and Aidi leave around noon that day, and when Harry complains that it’s too early and he needs a couple of hours in the afternoon to work, YN reassures him quietly while Aidi is putting her little coat on, that she’ll get used to school hours and she’ll slowly but eventually want to stay longer; it’s always like that, and kids are simple beings, and pretty similar in their behaviors.

So he leaves with a resigned sigh and a chatty baby on his hip, and YN follows them with her gaze before going back to give her attention to the little kid fussing in her lap and chatting her ear off about his holidays in the countryside during the summer.

She smiles and nods her head every once in a while, to assure him she’s listening and is interested in his story, but she can’t help but let her mind wander to the thought of seeing Harry for the first time since college. He looked so mature and put together, she feels small and silly in her choice of outfit (simple jeans and a sweater with a bunny printed on it — that the kids loved!), and she wonders wether Harry was making fun of her when he told her he saw her as a teacher. What did that mean? She doesn’t remember talking about a teaching career with him, and she certainly doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with being a teacher, at all. So, was he making fun of her? He must have been joking and she, as always, didn’t get the joke. But why did it matter?

She doesn’t know, and she tries to think about what he possibly could’ve meant that didn’t involve making fun of her, but came up empty handed, and once again, she finds herself thinking about him the same way she did in college, with a tang bitter taste of ‘what if’s.

…

“Sorry we’re late… Someone was a little grumpy this mornin’, huh?”

The rest of the month had gone by quickly; YN isn’t required to come in every morning — she alternates mornings with the other teacher, Miss Enya, so she doesn’t get to see Harry as often as she’d like, and when he comes to pick up Aidi in the late afternoon (he had started to pick her up a little bit later with every day that passed, claiming he could really use the extra hours to work, and he had told YN to call him if Aidi started asking about him), he greets YN with a brief wave of the hand, which is kind of awkward, both to him and to YN, but she goes with it and waves back.

Sometimes, when Aidi takes a while to get her little coat on, and she takes her time saying bye to her classmates (because she’s very much a loving kid and she can’t just leave without saying goodbye, her daddy always tells her it’s impolite!), Harry chats a bit with YN, mostly about the weather (“’s crazy, this weather! ’s so hot I think I’ll melt”) or about Aidi, asking her if she’s been good and whether she’s getting along with the other kids, and YN is polite, always polite, she answers his questions and laughs a little at his jokes, and in a way, it feels to her like time hasn’t passed, and she’s still that girl that used to have a crush on her older friend in college.

It’s Wednesday now, September is almost over and with it the warm days, leaving place to the chilly weather sneaking on you when you’re least expecting it.

The week had been calmer than usual, kind of uneventful, really, a couple of kids got sick with the flu at the beginning of the week, and by mid week the class was almost halved, whether they really got sick or their parents were just preventing that from happening, YN didn’t know, but it was fine either way and she understood the precautions taken.

That’s why when Harry comes in that morning, a little after 9 am, YN waves his tardiness off nonchalantly, “it’s okay!” She smiles at him kindly, “most of the kids are at home with the flu, though” she pouts, looking around the room at the small group of students playing with legos on the floor.

“Oh! Sorry to hear that” He reciprocates her pout, letting his daughter on the ground and holding out her small backpack for her to take.

They watch as Aidi walks slowly to the coat hangers, hanging her backpack on the hook and then her little coat.

When she takes a seat on the table to color a cute bunny YN had printed that morning, Harry shifts his eyes to glance at YN beside him, that is still looking at his daughter lovingly.

“Tha’s a nice shirt ye’re wearin’!” He chuckles, rising his brows and pinching the fabric of her shirt between his thumb and index finger.

YN tries to control the redness that creeps up on her cheeks when she turns her head to face him, looking down at her shirt with a printed bunny dressed up in a ghost costume, where his hand is still holding the pale yellow fabric of her shirt between his fingers.

“This is a very fancy shirt, Harry. I take bunnies very seriously” she pouts, her brows dipped.

“Oooh,” he coos, “yeah, I remember.”

“What do you mean?” She says.

This thing with bunnies had started when YN was around five (her first stuffed animal had been a bunny and she found great comfort in Mr Carrots — that was his name), and it kind of stuck with her; whenever she had something important to do she would have a little bunny with her, whether it be a pendant on a necklace or just printed on her shirt, she’d feel comfort knowing she’d have a bunny with her.

“I remember” he repeats, “from college. You had that… that necklace, I think. Oh, and the notebooks, I remember those as well.”

“Oh.” YN doesn’t know what else to say, and she knows she’s being awkward, of course she knows! But what is she supposed to say? He remembers probably the most intimate detail about her, and once again she is stuck asking herself, what does it mean? For him to remember? Does it have to mean something? Because it’s not like she was hiding the bunnies… she had them splattered on her shirt!

“Yeah” he nods, eyeing her carefully. He retreats his hand quickly, almost as if the shirt had caught on fire and his fingers’d started to burn, and he clears his throat, embarrassment pumping through his body.

“I have t’go, now.” He chuckles nervously, “need t’get Aidi tha’cereal she always eats in t’morning”.

“Of course, of course” YN nods, waving a hand in front of them to dismiss him.

He waves at her awkwardly before stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, turning back towards the door.

YN doesn’t wait for him to get out of the classroom before she turns the other way, walking towards the group of kids that are playing on the ground.

…

“‘llo?”

“Harry? It’s YN, well the… the school” YN rambles, holding her phone between her cheek and her shoulder as she holds the thermometer against Aidi’s temple.

She’s got the little girl curled in her lap as she lulls her back and forth, trying to soothe her the best she can, because she knows from experience that the infirmary always scares kids the most; apparently when painting the school no one thought about extending the silly cartoon characters that are painted on the classroom’s walls to the infirmary as well.

“Yes, ‘f course. Wha’s wrong?”

“Aidi’s burning up… I’m taking her temperature now, I think she’s… she’s sick?” She doesn’t know why it comes out as a question, but it does, and YN curses herself in her head for being like this. She’s got told many times to be careful when calling the parents, because most of them freak out simply from seeing the school’s caller ID, so she needs to be really more considerate in the way she delivers news.

“’s okay, I’ll come get ‘er, yeah?” He says, and YN hears shuffling from the other side of the line, and she wonders if he’s putting on his coat.

He sounds calm, and she’s glad she didn’t worry him, because it’s really just a fever and there’s nothing to worry about, but Aidi is little and she’s hurting, and she’d understand if Harry had freaked out a little bit.

“Okay, yes, yes” she agrees.

“Be there in 10”, he says, and she hangs up the phone and puts it back in the back pocket of her jeans.

She wonders if Harry has notified Aidi’s mum, and for a brief minute, she ponders whether she should ask the little girl in her lap, but then she feels extremely guilty she would even take that in account, and she tosses the thought out of her head, reminding herself it’s none of her business.

“Your daddy is coming” she coos, and Aidi shifts in her lap to look up at her.

“Miss YN, my tummy hurts” she whines, big tears pooling in her green eyes that look up at her and YN feels her heart clutch in her chest.

“I know, I know” she nods, petting her hair to help her soothe a bit, lulling her back and forth.

When the thermometer’s timer rings, YN removes it from her temple and winces when she checks the temperature.

“Just a few more minutes” YN whispers against her hair.

After what could’ve been five minutes, but felt like hours, YN sees Harry rush through the school’s infirmary, and when he spots them he raises his brows in a greeting manner.

“Hey” YN whispers to the sleepy toddler that’s curled up on her chest, “your daddy is here”

“Daddy?” Aidi mumbles in a small voice, raising her head to look up at her dad.

She knuckles at her eye and YN smiles softly at her, petting her hair once again.

“Hey” Harry sighs, crunching down on the ground to be eye level with his child, “how ye doin’, bug?”

“Hurts” she whimpers, raising her arms to signal him she wants to be picked up.

“I know, ’s okay” he props her on his hip and starts rubbing her back soothingly, cooing soft words in her ear.

“I think she’ll be fine with some bed rest… it’s normal for kids to get sick this time of the year” YN reassures him, placing a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

“Yeah… ’s just… she’s never been sick ’n I don’ know how… she’s little” he takes a big sigh and looks at her, his panicked eyes burning in hers, and it’s only then that YN realizes he’s worried. Of course he is! And how stupid of her to think he wouldn’t be. It’s his child and she’s in pain, YN doesn’t have children of her own and she can only imagine in a certain way what could it mean.

“Harry, hey” she squeezes his shoulder with her hand, “she’s going to be fine. It’s just a fever, yeah? Just a fever”

He nods at her words, albeit unconvinced, and he tilts his head to look at his little girl that’s sleeping with her face smushed against his shoulder, her cheeks red with the warmth of the fever.

“It’s going to be fine” YN repeats.

…

New message:

from: YN

to: Harry Styles

Hi, how are you?

Hi, Harry, how is Aidi?

Hi, how’s it going?

Hi, Harry, it’s YN. How is Aidi? How are you? :)

YN sends that last text and throws her phone on the couch next to her, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes.

She sighs loudly before picking up her phone again and unlocking it, the messages app opens immediately and she reads again the text she’d written, the smiley face at the end mocking her.

“Fuck!” She whines, “A fucking smiley face?! Why are you so awkward!”

She doesn’t wait for him to answer before she gets up from the couch and heads to the kitchen to cook something for dinner.

She’s staring at her empty fridge when she hears her phone’s chime, and she hurries back to the living room, a pep in her step as she anticipates in her head what his answer could be.

from: Harry Styles

to: YN

Hi!! She’s okay now, the fever’s gone down a bit, but she still isn’t eating :(

And I’m good btw

How r u?

She reads the text probably four times before responding, and this time she tries not to be as serious as she was in the first one.

from: YN

to: Harry Styles

I’m good too

Happy to hear that :)

Not that she isn’t eating… that sucks :’(

from: Harry Styles

to: YN

YN feels her heart skip a beat.

He sent a heart. A heart!!! If she was 14 years old she’d do a little happy dance and probably think about it for the rest of the evening, but she hasn’t been 14 in a long time, and she sticks to just liking his message and locking her phone, making her way back to the kitchen to finally eat something.

She isn’t 14 anymore, yes, but she can’t help but think about that heart for the rest of the evening.

…

Aidi comes back to school a week later, and she greets YN with a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, and YN holds her tight to her chest, happy to see that she’s alright.

YN and Harry both watch as Aidi greets her classmates, a pep in her step as she runs to them, ready to tell them all about the bad bug she caught that made her sick (as her daddy had explained).

“I’m happy to see she’s alright” YN says, smiling fondly at the sight in front of her.

“Yeah… me too” he sighs, “I wanted to thank yeh… fo’ takin’ care of ‘er”

“Harry” she chimes in, “it’s my job. You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do, though. Y’re a teacher, aren’t yeh? Not a nurse” he shrugs, smiling a cheeky grin at her.

“You do have a point” she laughs, nodding her head, “but you don’t have to thank me. I didn’t do anything special.”

“Still” he shrugs once again, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat. “We should catch up… sometime… ’s been s’long”

“Yes” she nods swiftly, maybe a little too excitedly to not be embarrassing, “yes… I would like that”

“Fine then… I’ll text yeh, yeah?” He says, taking the keys of his car out of the pocket of his coat and playing with the keychain with his fingers, rolling it around absentmindedly.

“Have t’go now”

“Yeah” she agrees, but he’s already turned around.

YN doesn’t know if it’s the adrenaline that’s making her see things, or if maybe she’s the one that’s coming down with a fever now, and it’s making her delusional, but she swears she saw a bunny shaped keychain attached to his car keys, and she feels her heart beat loud against her chest. She really hopes she isn’t imagining things.

PLEASE let me know if you want part 2 and if you liked this!!! 💞

Read part 2 here!!

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