#I can’t wait to hear their vows…

[nanowatzophina]

Anyone else still excited for their weddings?

Let’s be honest, Asher WOULD get married in a Jersey, Milo had to wrestle him into that tux and try his best with his hair. But he managed it.

And hey! Not a Nick Miller Jessica Day one. Not even a New Girl one to round out my pass at doing screen caps with each of the pack and their listeners!

Ref:

[pucksandpower]

Until Next Time

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: in which two soulmates are destined to always find each other only to be torn apart lifetime after lifetime after lifetime … until finally, they’re not (aka the reincarnation AU)

Mycenae, 1208 BC

The sun beats down mercilessly on the marble steps of the temple. You stand at the top, your white chiton billowing in the warm breeze. Your eyes scan the crowd gathered below, searching for one face among the sea of onlookers.

“Where is he?” You whisper, your heart pounding.

A firm hand grips your shoulder. “It’s time, princess,” your father’s voice rumbles behind you.

You turn to face him, eyes pleading. “Father, please. This can’t be the only way.”

The king’s face is a mask of stone, but his eyes betray a flicker of sorrow. “The gods have spoken. We must obey.”

As he speaks, a commotion erupts at the base of the temple steps. Your breath catches in your throat as you spot Max pushing through the crowd, his face contorted with desperation.

“No!” He shouts, his voice carrying over the murmur of the crowd. “You can’t do this!”

Two guards grab him, restraining his arms as he struggles against their grip.

“Let me go!” Max yells, his eyes locking with yours. “She’s innocent! Take me instead!”

You start to move towards him, but your father’s grip tightens. “Don’t,” he warns.

“Max,” you call out, your voice breaking. “It’s okay. This is my duty.”

Max shakes his head violently. “No, it’s not! This is madness!”

The high priest approaches, his ornate robes rustling as he walks. “The sacrifice must be made,” he intones. “The gods demand it.”

You feel a chill run down your spine despite the heat. The priest’s eyes are cold as he regards you.

“Please,” Max begs, still struggling against the guards. “There has to be another way. Let me speak to the oracle. Maybe-”

“Silence!” The priest snaps. “The decision has been made. The princess will ensure a bountiful harvest for our people.”

You swallow hard, trying to steady your voice. “Max, listen to me. I need you to be strong.”

His struggles subside slightly as he focuses on your words.

“Remember what we talked about?” You continue. “About the stars?”

Max’s brow furrows in confusion for a moment before his eyes widen in recognition. “The cycle,” he breathes.

You nod, forcing a smile. “This isn’t the end. We’ll find each other again. I promise.”

“No,” Max shakes his head, tears streaming down his face. “I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

The priest clears his throat impatiently. “We must proceed.”

Your father gently guides you towards the altar. You resist the urge to look back at Max, knowing it will only make this harder.

“Wait!” Max calls out. “Just ... just let me say goodbye. Please.”

The king hesitates, then nods to the guards. They release Max, who rushes up the steps towards you.

He reaches you, cupping your face in his hands. “I love you,” he whispers fiercely. “In this life and every life to come.”

You lean into his touch, memorizing the feeling of his skin against yours. “I love you too. Always.”

Max’s lips crash into yours, desperate and salty with tears. For a moment, the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you.

Then rough hands are pulling you apart. Max struggles, but the guards drag him back down the steps.

“No!” He roars. “You can’t do this! She’s everything to me!”

You force yourself to look away, focusing on the altar before you. The priest approaches, a gleaming dagger in his hand.

“Oh great gods,” he begins to chant. “Accept this offering and bless our lands.”

You close your eyes, trying to block out Max’s anguished cries. You think of stars, of cycles, of promises of reunion.

The dagger plunges, and pain explodes through your body. As darkness creeps in at the edges of your vision, you hear Max’s voice, raw with grief.

“I’ll find you,” he vows. “In the next life, and the next, and the next. We’ll be together again. I swear it.”

As your consciousness fades, you cling to that promise. This isn’t the end, you tell yourself. It’s just the beginning of a much longer story.

Your last thought before the world goes black is of Max’s eyes, filled with love and determination. Somehow, you know that this is not goodbye — it’s just until next time.

London, 1542

The heavy oak door of your chambers creaks open, and you look up from your embroidery, heart leaping at the sight of Max slipping inside. His eyes dart nervously around the room before settling on you.

“My lady,” he whispers urgently, crossing the room in quick strides. “We must speak.”

You set aside your needlework, rising to meet him. “What is it? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

He takes your hands in his, his touch sending a familiar thrill through you despite the gravity in his expression. “It’s worse than that, I’m afraid. I’ve heard whispers in the court ...”

Your breath catches. “What kind of whispers?”

Max’s jaw clenches. “Accusations. Terrible ones. They’re saying you’ve been unfaithful to the king.”

You gasp, shaking your head vehemently. “That’s absurd! I would never-”

“I know,” Max interrupts, squeezing your hands. “But the truth matters little when it comes to Henry’s jealousy. You know how he is.”

A chill runs down your spine as you remember the fate of the king’s previous wives. “What am I to do?”

Max’s eyes blaze with determination. “We’ll run away. Tonight. I have friends who can help us reach the coast. From there, we can sail to France or-”

The sound of heavy footsteps in the corridor cuts him off. You both freeze, staring at the door in mounting dread.

“Quick,” you hiss, pushing Max towards a tapestry-covered alcove. “Hide!”

He resists for a moment. “I won’t leave you-”

“You must,” you insist. “If they find you here, it will only make things worse.”

Reluctantly, Max ducks behind the tapestry just as the door bursts open. The king’s guards pour in, led by Thomas Cromwell himself.

“My lady,” Cromwell says with a cold smile. “I’m afraid you must come with us.”

You lift your chin, summoning every ounce of royal dignity. “On what grounds, Lord Cromwell?”

His smile doesn’t waver. “Treason, my lady. His Majesty has evidence of your ... indiscretions.”

“That’s impossible,” you protest. “I’ve been nothing but faithful to the king.”

Cromwell gestures to the guards. “Search the room. Thoroughly.”

Your heart pounds as they begin tearing through your belongings. You silently pray that Max remains hidden and undetected.

“This is outrageous,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I demand to speak to the king himself.”

“His Majesty has no desire to see you,” Cromwell replies. “The evidence speaks for itself.”

One of the guards approaches, holding a folded piece of parchment. “My lord, we found this hidden in her jewelry box.”

Cromwell snatches it, his eyes scanning the contents. His smirk widens. “Well, well. A love letter, it seems. Quite damning, wouldn’t you agree?”

You shake your head in disbelief. “That’s not mine. I’ve never seen it before!”

“A poor defense, my lady,” Cromwell tuts. “Come now, we mustn’t keep the Tower waiting.”

As the guards move to seize you, Max bursts from his hiding place. “Stop!” He shouts. “She’s innocent!”

Cromwell’s eyebrows raise in mock surprise. “And who might you be, young man?”

Max stands tall, his gaze unwavering. “I can vouch for the queen’s innocence.”

“Can you now?” Cromwell’s tone is dangerously soft. “And how, pray tell, would you know such a thing?”

You see the trap too late. “Max, don’t-”

But he’s already speaking. “Because I’ve been watching over her. Protecting her. I would know if she had been unfaithful.”

Cromwell’s eyes glitter with triumph. “Watching over her, you say? How ... intimate. Guards, seize him as well.”

“No!” You cry out as the guards grab Max. “He’s done nothing wrong!”

“On the contrary,” Cromwell replies. “He’s just confessed to an inappropriate relationship with the queen. That’s treason, my dear.”

Max struggles against the guards. “It’s not like that! I love her, yes, but we’ve never-”

“Enough!” Cromwell snaps. “Take them both to the Tower. His Majesty will decide their fate.”

As the guards drag you from the room, your eyes meet Max’s. In that moment, a strange sense of déjà vu washes over you. You’ve been here before, somehow. Torn apart by forces beyond your control.

“It’s happening again,” Max says softly, his eyes wide with realization.

You nod, a sad smile touching your lips. “The cycle continues.”

“What are you two babbling about?” Cromwell demands.

Neither of you answer. What could you say that he would understand?

As you’re led through the winding corridors of the palace, Max’s voice carries to you. “I’ll find a way to save you. I swear it.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you call back, your voice catching.

“I kept the last one, didn’t I?” He replies. “I found you again.”

Memories flood your mind — hazy images of another life, another time. A temple, a sacrifice, a vow made in desperation.

“So you did,” you whisper.

The journey to the Tower passes in a blur. Before you know it, you’re being locked in a cold, damp cell. Through the small barred window, you can see the executioner’s block in the courtyard below.

Days pass. You pace your cell, alternating between fear and a strange sense of calm. This isn’t the end, you remind yourself. Somehow, you know it to be true.

When they come for you, you hold your head high. As you’re led to the block, you scan the crowd, searching for Max’s face. You spot him, restrained by guards, his face a mask of anguish.

“I love you,” he mouths.

“Until next time,” you reply silently.

As you kneel at the block, you close your eyes. You think of stars and cycles, of promises kept across lifetimes. The axe falls, and darkness descends.

Your last conscious thought is a mixture of sorrow and hope. This chapter may be ending, but your story with Max is far from over. In another time, another place, you’ll find each other again. The wheel turns, and the cycle continues.

Florence, 1633

The flickering candlelight casts long shadows across the cluttered study. You pace nervously, your skirts swishing against the worn floorboards. Max hunches over his desk, quill scratching furiously across parchment.

“Max,” you plead, “please reconsider. It’s not too late to recant.”

He looks up, his eyes bright with fervor. “I can’t, my love. The truth is too important.”

You move to his side, resting a hand on his shoulder. “More important than your life?”

Max covers your hand with his, his touch warm and familiar. “Some truths are worth dying for.”

“And what about living for?” You counter. “What about us?”

He stands, pulling you into an embrace. “Everything I do, I do for us. For a world where we can live freely, without the shackles of ignorance.”

You bury your face in his chest, inhaling his scent of ink and parchment. “I fear those shackles are stronger than you think.”

A sharp knock at the door makes you both jump. Max moves to answer it, but you grab his arm.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “It could be them.”

Max’s jaw sets stubbornly. “If it is, hiding won’t change anything.”

He strides to the door and throws it open. A young man stands there, panting heavily.

“Master,” he gasps. “They’re coming. The Inquisition. You must flee!”

Max’s face pales, but his voice remains steady. “Thank you for the warning, Giovanni. You should go before they arrive.”

The young man nods and disappears into the night. Max turns to you, his expression grim.

“You should go too,” he says softly. “There’s no reason for both of us to face their wrath.”

You shake your head fiercely. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Please,” Max implores. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you because of me.”

“And I couldn’t bear to abandon you,” you retort. “We’re in this together, remember?”

A ghost of a smile touches Max’s lips. “Always.”

You help him gather his most important papers and instruments, working quickly in the oppressive silence. As Max secures the last of his writings, you hear the ominous sound of marching feet approaching.

“It’s too late,” you breathe.

Max squares his shoulders. “Then we face them with dignity.”

The door bursts open, and armored men pour into the small study. At their head is Cardinal Bellarmine, his face a mask of righteous anger.

“Apostate,” he intones. “You stand accused of heresy against the Holy Church.”

Max steps forward, his voice calm. “I stand accused of seeking the truth, Your Eminence.”

The Cardinal’s eyes narrow. “You spread dangerous lies. You claim the Earth is not the center of God’s creation!”

“I claim only what the evidence suggests,” Max counters. “The movements of the heavens themselves tell us-”

“Blasphemy!” Bellarmine roars. “You would elevate your flawed observations above the word of God?”

You can’t stay silent any longer. “My lord Cardinal, surely God gave us minds to seek understanding. How can the pursuit of knowledge be heresy?”

Bellarmine’s gaze snaps to you. “And who is this who dares to question the Church’s judgment?”

Max steps protectively in front of you. “Leave her out of this. She’s done nothing wrong.”

“She defends a heretic,” the Cardinal sneers. “That alone is cause for suspicion.”

You feel a chill run down your spine, but you stand your ground. “I defend a good man who seeks only to understand the wonders of God’s creation.”

Bellarmine waves dismissively. “Take them both. We’ll sort out her involvement later.”

As the guards move to seize you, Max erupts into action. He grabs a heavy tome from his desk and hurls it at the nearest guard, then pushes you towards the window.

“Run!” He shouts. “I’ll hold them off!”

You hesitate, torn between fleeing and staying by his side. In that moment of indecision, a guard grabs you roughly by the arm.

“No!” Max cries out, lunging towards you.

Another guard intercepts him, slamming the butt of his halberd into Max’s stomach. He crumples to the ground, gasping for air.

“Stop!” You plead. “We’ll come peacefully. Just don’t hurt him.”

Bellarmine smirks. “A wise decision. Though I’m afraid it’s too late for leniency.”

As the guards bind your hands, you lock eyes with Max. There’s a strange, sad recognition in his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I thought this time would be different.”

You shake your head, a bittersweet smile on your lips. “It’s not your fault. It never is.”

Bellarmine looks between you, confusion evident on his face. “What nonsense is this?”

Neither of you answer.

You’re led from the study, through the torch-lit streets to the forbidding walls of the Inquisition’s headquarters. As you’re separated and thrown into different cells, Max’s voice carries to you.

“I’ll find you again. I swear it.”

“In this life or the next,” you call back, your voice breaking.

Days blur together in your dank cell. You’re questioned relentlessly about Max’s work, about your involvement. You reveal nothing, clinging to the hope that your silence might somehow spare him.

When they finally come for you, you know it’s not good news. You’re led to a small courtyard where a pyre has been erected. Your heart sinks as you see Max already tied to the stake, his face bruised but defiant.

“Heathen,” Bellarmine proclaims, “you have been found guilty of heresy. Do you repent your sins?”

Max’s eyes find yours in the crowd. “My only sin,” he says clearly, “is loving truth more than dogma.”

The Cardinal’s face darkens. “Then may God have mercy on your soul. Light the pyre.”

As the flames begin to lick at Max’s feet, you can’t contain yourself any longer. You break free from your guards and run towards the pyre.

“No!” You scream. “Max!”

He looks at you, his eyes full of love and sorrow. “Until next time, my love. We’ll get it right someday.”

The guards grab you, dragging you back as the flames engulf Max. His agonized cries pierce the air, but his gaze never leaves yours.

As the light fades from his eyes, you feel a piece of your soul shatter. But deep within, a tiny spark of hope remains. This isn’t the end, you tell yourself. It can’t be.

Somewhere, somewhen, you’ll find each other again. The wheel turns, the cycle continues, and your love endures beyond death itself.

Atlantic Ocean, 1912

The grand ballroom of the Titanic thrums with life, an orchestra playing a lively waltz as couples twirl across the polished floor. You stand at the edge of the crowd, your gloved hands fidgeting with your beaded gown. Your eyes scan the room, searching for one face in particular.

“Looking for someone?” A familiar voice asks behind you.

You turn, a smile lighting up your face as you see Max, dashing in his tailored suit. “There you are! I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost.”

Max grins, offering you his arm. “Even on a ship this size? Never. Though I must admit, I did take a wrong turn or two.”

You laugh, taking his arm. “Well, I’m glad you found your way eventually. I’ve been dying to dance with you all evening.”

As Max leads you onto the dance floor, a strange sense of déjà vu washes over you. You’ve danced with him before, you think. In grand halls and humble taverns, across centuries ...

“What’s that look for?” Max asks, pulling you from your reverie as he places a hand on your waist.

You shake your head, smiling. “Nothing. Just ... happy, I suppose.”

He beams at you as you begin to waltz. “As am I. Being here with you, it feels ... right. Like everything’s fallen into place.”

You nod, leaning into him slightly. “I know exactly what you mean.”

As you dance, the world seems to fade away. It’s just you and Max, moving in perfect synchronicity. But the spell is broken as a violent shudder runs through the ship.

Max steadies you as you stumble. “What was that?”

Around you, other passengers are looking around in confusion. The music has stopped, the musicians exchanging worried glances.

“I’m not sure,” you reply, a sense of unease growing in your stomach. “Perhaps we should-”

Your words are cut off as a ship’s officer bursts into the ballroom. “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. We’ve struck an iceberg, but there’s no immediate danger. As a precaution, we ask that you all put on life vests and make your way to the boat deck.”

A ripple of nervous chatter sweeps through the crowd. Max’s grip on your hand tightens.

“We should go,” he says urgently. “Now.”

You nod, allowing him to lead you through the increasingly panicked throng. As you make your way through the corridors, the ship’s list becomes more pronounced.

“This is bad,” Max mutters, helping you navigate a particularly steep section. “Much worse than they’re letting on.”

You reach your cabin, quickly donning life vests over your evening wear. As you step back into the corridor, you’re met with a tide of frightened passengers.

“We need to get to the boat deck,” Max says, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. “Stay close to me.”

You push through the crowd, the ship’s groans and creaks growing louder with each passing moment. When you finally reach the deck, chaos greets you. Officers are struggling to maintain order as passengers clamor for spots in the too-few lifeboats.

“Women and children first!” An officer shouts over the din.

Max turns to you, his face pale but determined. “You need to get on a boat.”

You shake your head vehemently. “Not without you.”

“Please,” he begs, cupping your face in his hands. “I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

A memory flashes through your mind — Max saying those same words in another time, another place. Always trying to save you.

“And I couldn’t bear to leave you,” you insist. “We stay together. No matter what.”

Max’s eyes search yours for a long moment before he nods. “Together, then.”

As the night wears on, it becomes clear that there won’t be enough lifeboats for everyone. You and Max help where you can, assisting women and children into the boats. The temperature drops, your breath visible in the frigid air.

“I think that’s the last one,” Max says as you watch the final lifeboat disappear into the darkness.

You look around the rapidly tilting deck. Those who remain are a mix of resigned, terrified, and in denial.

“What do we do now?” You ask, your voice small.

Max takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. “We face it together. Like we always have.”

As the ship’s stern begins to rise, you and Max make your way towards the railing. The screech of twisting metal fills the air as the Titanic starts to break apart.

“Max,” you say, your voice trembling, “I’m scared.”

He pulls you close, his arms strong around you. “I know. But remember, this isn’t the end. Not really.”

You look up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you feel it?” He asks. “The familiarity? Like we’ve been here before?”

As you stare into his eyes, flashes of memory assault you. A temple in ancient Greece. A Tudor court. A Renaissance study. Always you and Max. Always torn apart.

“The cycle,” you whisper.

Max nods, a sad smile on his face. “We’ll get it right someday. I promise.”

The ship lurches violently, and you cling to each other as you’re thrown into the icy Atlantic. The shock of the cold water drives the breath from your lungs.

“Max!” You gasp, struggling to keep your head above water.

“I’m here,” he calls back, swimming towards you. “Hold on to me.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, your limbs already growing numb from the cold. Around you, the cries of other passengers pierce the night.

“It’s so cold,” you murmur, your teeth chattering.

Max holds you tighter. “I know, love. Just stay with me.”

As the minutes tick by, the cries around you grow fewer. You can feel your strength ebbing, your grip on Max weakening.

“Hey,” Max says, his voice hoarse. “Stay awake. Look at the stars with me.”

You force your eyes open, gazing up at the crystal-clear sky. “They’re beautiful,” you manage.

“Just like you,” Max replies. “In every life, in every time.”

You smile weakly. “You always were a charmer.”

“And you always saw right through me,” he chuckles, the sound turning into a cough.

As your vision begins to dim, you summon the last of your strength to speak. “Max? Promise you’ll find me again?”

His lips, blue with cold, press against your forehead. “Always. In this life and the next, and all the ones after.”

The cold fades, replaced by a spreading warmth. As consciousness slips away, your last thought is of Max’s eyes, filled with love and the promise of reunion.

The wheel turns. The cycle continues. And somewhere, in another time, another place, two souls prepare to find each other once more.

Washington DC, 1968

The air is thick with tension and the acrid smell of tear gas. You stand at the front of the crowd, your hand tightly gripping a homemade sign that reads “MAKE LOVE, NOT WAR.” The chants of the protesters around you swell and ebb like waves crashing against the shore of the Lincoln Memorial.

“Hey,” a familiar voice calls out. You turn to see Max pushing his way through the crowd, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You smile, relief washing over you. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t make it.”

Max reaches you, his hand finding yours. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away. Though the police barricades nearly did.”

You squeeze his hand. “I’m glad you’re here. This feels ... important. Like we’re on the brink of something.”

He nods, his eyes scanning the growing crowd. “I know what you mean. It’s like the whole world is holding its breath.”

As if on cue, a new chant starts up. “Hey, hey, LBJ! How many kids did you kill today?”

You join in, your voice blending with the thousands around you. Max’s deeper tone resonates beside you, sending a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the autumn chill.

Suddenly, there’s a commotion at the edge of the crowd. You stand on tiptoe, trying to see what’s happening.

“What is it?” Max asks, concern etching his features.

“I’m not sure,” you reply. “It looks like ... oh no.”

A line of police officers in riot gear is advancing on the crowd, batons at the ready.

Max’s grip on your hand tightens. “We should fall back. This could get ugly.”

But you stand your ground, shaking your head. “No. We can’t let them intimidate us. We have a right to be here, to make our voices heard.”

“I know,” Max says, his voice tight with worry. “But I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

As the police line gets closer, tensions in the crowd rise. Someone throws a bottle, and it shatters at the feet of an officer. In an instant, chaos erupts.

“Disperse immediately!” A voice booms over a megaphone. “This is an unlawful assembly!”

But the crowd doesn’t disperse. If anything, the chants grow louder, more defiant. You feel Max tugging at your arm.

“Come on,” he urges. “We’ve made our point. Let’s go before-”

His words are cut off by a loud bang. For a moment, you think it’s a firecracker. Then you see the tear gas canister arcing through the air.

“Gas!” Someone shouts, and panic ripples through the crowd.

Max pulls you close, covering your mouth and nose with his bandana. “We need to move, now!”

You nod, coughing as the acrid gas begins to sting your eyes. Together, you push through the panicked crowd, trying to reach the edge of the park.

But the police are closing in from all sides. You see batons swinging, hear the cries of pain and anger from your fellow protesters.

“This way,” Max says, pulling you towards a gap in the police line.

You’re almost there when you hear a scream behind you. Turning, you see a young woman on the ground, an officer standing over her with his baton raised.

Before you can think, you’re moving towards them. “Stop!” You yell. “Leave her alone!”

“Y/N, no!” Max calls after you, but you’re already out of his reach.

You throw yourself between the fallen woman and the officer, your arms outstretched. “Please,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “She’s not a threat. We’re peaceful protesters.”

The officer hesitates, his baton still raised. For a moment, you think he might listen. Then you see his eyes harden behind his visor.

“I said disperse!” He shouts, bringing the baton down.

You close your eyes, bracing for the impact. But it never comes. Instead, you hear a grunt of pain and open your eyes to see Max in front of you, taking the blow meant for you.

“Max!” You cry out as he crumples to the ground.

You drop to your knees beside him, cradling his head. “Max, can you hear me?”

He groans, his eyes fluttering open. “Are you okay?” He asks, his voice weak.

You nod, tears streaming down your face. “I’m fine. Why did you do that?”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Couldn’t let you have all the fun, could I?”

Despite everything, you can’t help but laugh. “You idiot,” you say fondly.

The moment is shattered by another round of tear gas canisters landing nearby. The acrid smoke billows around you, making it hard to breathe.

“We need to get out of here,” you say, trying to help Max to his feet.

But as you stand, you feel a sharp pain in your side. Looking down, you see a growing red stain on your shirt.

“Y/N?” Max’s voice sounds far away. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You stumble, your legs giving out. Max catches you, lowering you gently to the ground.

“Oh God,” he says, his face pale with shock. “You’ve been hit.”

You look down again, seeing the bullet embedded in your side. The pain is distant, almost unreal.

“It’s not so bad,” you try to reassure him, but your voice comes out weak and shaky.

Max presses his hand to the wound, trying to stem the bleeding. “Help!” He shouts. “We need a medic!”

But his cries are lost in the chaos around you. The world seems to be fading, growing dim at the edges.

“Max,” you whisper, reaching up to touch his face. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head fiercely. “Don’t you dare apologize. You’re going to be fine, you hear me? We’re going to get through this.”

You smile sadly, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over you. “We always say that, don’t we?”

Max’s brow furrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Every time,” you murmur, your strength fading. “We always think this time will be different.”

Understanding dawns in Max’s eyes, along with a deep, aching sorrow. “The cycle,” he whispers.

You nod weakly. “But it’s okay. We’ll get another chance.”

“No,” Max says, his voice breaking. “Not again. Please, Y/N, stay with me.”

But you can feel yourself slipping away. The pain is gone now, replaced by a spreading warmth.

“Find me again,” you breathe, your eyes starting to close. “Promise me.”

Max’s tears fall on your face as he leans close. “I promise. In this life or the next, I’ll always find you.”

As consciousness fades, your last thought is of Max’s eyes, filled with love and the weight of lifetimes. The wheel turns, the cycle continues, and somewhere, two souls prepare for yet another chance at forever.

Monaco, 2024

The soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the bedroom. You’re curled up against Max, his arm draped protectively over your waist. The steady rhythm of his breathing is a comforting constant, one you’ve grown accustomed to over the years.

A gentle weight lands on the bed, followed by a soft meow. You open your eyes to see Jimmy padding across the duvet.

“Morning, Jimmy,” you whisper, reaching out to scratch behind his ears. He purrs contentedly, settling down in the small space between you and Max.

The movement stirs Max from his slumber. He blinks sleepily, a smile spreading across his face as he focuses on you. “Good morning, schatje,” he murmurs, his voice still rough with sleep.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Morning, champ. Sleep well?”

He nods, pulling you closer. “Always do with you by my side.”

As if on cue, another weight lands on the bed. Sassy makes her presence known with a demanding meow.

Max chuckles, reaching over to pet her. “Good morning to you too, princess.”

You can’t help but laugh. “I think someone’s jealous of all the attention Jimmy’s getting.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” Max says, scooping Sassy up and placing her on his chest. She immediately starts kneading, purring loudly.

You watch them with a fond smile, a wave of contentment washing over you. “I love this,” you say softly. “Just ... all of this.”

Max turns his head to look at you, his eyes filled with warmth. “Me too. Sometimes I can hardly believe it’s real, you know?”

You nod, understanding completely. “I know what you mean. It’s like ... we’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

“Lifetimes,” Max agrees, a hint of something ancient in his gaze.

You both fall silent for a moment, lost in memories that feel more like dreams — flashes of other lives, other times, always reaching for each other but never quite able to hold on.

Jimmy stretches, breaking the spell. You laugh as he nearly pushes Sassy off Max’s chest in the process.

“Alright, you two,” Max says, gently moving the cats aside. “I think it’s time for breakfast.”

As if understanding his words, both cats leap off the bed and head for the door, meowing insistently.

You groan, burying your face in Max’s shoulder. “Five more minutes?”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You know they won’t let us rest until they’re fed.”

“True,” you sigh, reluctantly sitting up. “I suppose we should get up anyway. Don’t you have that interview today?”

Max nods, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Yeah, in a couple of hours. Nothing too intense though, just a quick chat about the next race.”

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, stretching. “Want me to make coffee while you feed the furry overlords?”

“Sounds perfect,” Max says, getting up and pulling on a t-shirt. He pauses at the door, looking back at you with a soft smile. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest, the same feeling you get every time he looks at you like that. “You might have mentioned it once or twice,” you tease. “But I never get tired of hearing it.”

Max crosses the room in two quick strides, pulling you into a deep kiss. When he pulls back, you’re both a little breathless.

“I love you,” he says, his forehead resting against yours. “More than I ever thought possible.”

You cup his face in your hands, thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “I love you too, Max. Always have, always will.”

A loud meow from the hallway breaks the moment. You both laugh, the spell broken but the warmth lingering.

“Duty calls,” Max says with a wink, heading out to tend to the cats.

You make your way to the kitchen, starting the coffee maker and pulling out mugs. As the rich aroma fills the air, you can hear Max in the other room, talking to the cats as he fills their bowls.

“There you go, Jimmy. Easy, Sassy, there’s plenty for both of you.”

You smile to yourself, struck once again by how perfect this all feels. It’s not just the quiet moments like this morning — it’s the way Max lights up when he talks about racing, the pride in his eyes when he brings home another trophy. It’s the way he holds you after a particularly rough day, or the sound of his laughter when you’re goofing around together.

Max joins you in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you pour the coffee. “Smells amazing,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck.

You lean back into him, savoring the moment. “The coffee or me?”

“Both,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

You turn in his arms, handing him his mug. “So, what’s on the agenda after your interview?”

Max takes a sip of coffee, thinking. “Not much, actually. I was thinking maybe we could have a quiet day in? Watch a movie, order takeout?”

“Sounds perfect,” you say, your smile widening. “I’ll even let you pick the movie this time.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Even if it’s another racing documentary?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Even then. Though I reserve the right to fall asleep on your shoulder if it gets too technical.”

“Deal,” Max grins, pulling you close for another kiss.

As you stand there in the kitchen, coffee in hand and cats weaving between your legs, you’re struck by a profound sense of rightness. This is what you’ve been searching for, life after life. This quiet, domestic bliss with the man you love.

“What are you thinking about?” Max asks, noticing your thoughtful expression.

You smile, leaning into him. “Just ... how happy I am. How perfect this all is.”

Max’s arms tighten around you. “It really is, isn’t it? Sometimes I wonder if I’m dreaming.”

You pinch his arm lightly, laughing at his mock-offended expression. “Definitely not dreaming.”

“Good,” he says, his voice soft and sincere. “Because I never want to wake up from this.”

As you stand there in the morning light, surrounded by the life you’ve built together, you silently thank whatever force has finally allowed you and Max to find your happily ever after.

The wheel has turned, the cycle has ended, and at last, your souls have found their home.

[yan-lorkai]

Fae/faerie Jade trying to get lost reader's name and her being like '🤨 uh, no, give me yours first, let's trade' without knowing that's basically like betrothing herself with him

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: Lowkey I believed faes/fairies used to exist when I was kid lol. And I'm telling y'all this because I had a dream quite similar to this fic lololol, it was a good dream tho :>

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ tagging: @harukishiyo @kiraiyugen

"You're quite charming," he says, his voice soft and almost reverent, as if speaking an undeniable truth. "Precious, even. Why won't you tell me your name?"

You hesitate, narrowing your eyes at him. There's something about the way he asks, the smoothness of his tone, that feels too inviting, too... dangerous. For a second, you study him, his sudden appearance intriguing you.

You cross your arms, trying to appear more confident than you feel. "Uh, no. Mister, you should tell me your name first," you say, thinking you’ve cleverly sidestepped whatever game he’s playing. "Or... We could trade names."

For a moment, his eyes widen, surprise flickering across his face. But then his lips curl into a slow, satisfied smile, one that makes your stomach tighten in a way you can’t quite place. "Ah, a trade, is it?" he murmurs, the words rolling off his tongue with a hint of amusement. "Very well, if that is what you wish... I shall oblige."

He leans in slightly, his gaze never leaving yours, and for a brief second, you feel as though the air around you has thickened, charged with something unspoken. When he speaks his name - Jade, like the gem, it’s with a deliberate, almost theatrical grace, each syllable drawn out as if he’s savoring the moment. His voice is like silk, and his name feels heavy, lingering in the air between you.

And the sound is almost magical, hypnotic even.

You don't realize it, but the moment you suggested a trade, you unknowingly set the trap he had been waiting for. To exchange names with a fae is to offer something more than just words; it’s an agreement, a binding promise. By giving yours, you would be tying yourself to him, just as he’s doing now.

And the look in his eyes — the way they gleam with that mix of amusement and something darker — tells you that he knows exactly what you've just offered, even if you don't.

When you finally open your mouth to respond, you don’t see the invisible chains that have begun to form around you, nor do you hear the silent vow he’s made to keep you by his side.

"Well," you begin, a bit nervously, trying to shake off the sudden intensity in his eyes. "I guess it’s only fair to share mine now." You tell him your name, and as the words leave your lips, you can't help but notice how his smile widens, sharp and satisfied, like a predator finally closing in on its prey.

“Ah, so that is your name, Yuu,” he repeats, almost reverently, as if tasting it, repeating it again and again as if he was getting used to it. “Beautiful… fitting, even.”

He takes a step closer, and you instinctively take a step back, but he follows, closing the distance again. “You have no idea what you’ve just given me, do you?” His voice is gentle, but there’s an underlying current, a subtle shift that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

You blink, confused. “What do you mean?” you ask, feeling a little defensive. “It’s just my name. We traded, remember?”

“Oh, but it’s not just a name,” he replies, tilting his head as if amused by your innocence. “To share a name with a fae is to forge a bond, one that can not easily be broken. You offered a piece of yourself, and I’ve accepted it. Just as I have given you a piece of me in return.”

You stare at him, the realization dawning on you slowly, like the creeping shadow of a storm. You had to have misunderstood what he just said.

“Wait… Are you saying…?” Your words falter as you search his eyes, looking for any sign that he’s joking, but there’s none. The grin on his face is too calm, too knowing, as if he’s been planning this all along.

“Yes, my dear,” he says, his voice soft and almost affectionate, yet there’s a possessiveness in his tone that makes your heart skip a beat. “We are bound now, betrothed, if you wish to call it that. You belong to me, just as I belong to you. Isn’t it delightful? Mom and dad will be glad to know you.”

Your heart starts pounding, a mix of disbelief and panic surging through you. “No, no, that’s not what I meant!” You stammer, shaking your head as if you can undo the words you’ve already spoken. “I didn’t agree to… to this! I can't get married right now.”

He doesn’t seem fazed by your protest. If anything, he looks even more delighted now. “Oh, but we're married now due to fae traditions. The moment you proposed the trade, you sealed your fate. And I have no intention of letting you go, my precious beloved one.”

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch cool but oddly soothing. “Do not fear, Yuu. I shall take care of you, cherish you… just as a good partner should.”

You try to pull away, but his hand cups your cheek, holding you gently in place. “There is no need to run, no need to fight. We are bound by something far stronger than mere words. You wished to know my name, and now… you will never forget it.”

The forest around you feels like it’s closing in, the air thick with something unseen, as if the world itself acknowledges the bond between you. And in his eyes, you see no hint of malice, only a patient, eternal watchfulness, as if he’s content to wait, to let you come to terms with what you’ve unknowingly become a part of.

“I’ll give you time to understand,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a soft, almost tender smile as he presses a kiss to your temple. “But know this… I am yours, just as you are mine. And there is no escaping what has been forged tonight... Love.”

[patrywoso]

12. Leah Williamson

+18 smut Strap-Ons. Squirting. Vaginal Fingering. Oral Sex.

Didn't had time to proof read so sorry for the mistakes i would do it soon.

Leah’s asleep when you get home, a football file open under her snoring cheek. You poke her up and Leah smiles, even fumbling with sleep. She yawns, her jaw cracking. “What’s that?”

You hide the package behind your back. “Nothing.”

Leah’s squinted eyes narrow. “Liar.”

You twist to avoid her searching hands. “It’s a surprise. Don’t ruin it.” You shove it in your side of the dresser and close the drawer firmly. “I’ll know if you peek.”

Leah grumbles good-naturedly and casts a curious look at the dresser, so you grab her around the waist and drag her to bed. “Set the alarm,” Leah gasps, as you nip her way down her neck and across her chest. “Can’t be late.”

You flail a handout and smack at the clock until it beeps twice. “Okay?”

“Yes,” Leah says and flips you to be on top, grinning.

You wait almost a week, your heart beating too quickly when you see the edge of the package as you get dressed in the mornings. 

You wake up one morning on your back, with Leah sitting on your hips. “Hey,” you croak, still half asleep.

Leah kisses you, once. “Good morning,” she says, far too awake for your sensibilities. “Do you know what day it is?”

You squint at the bedside table. “I know what time it is,” you say, faux-sweet. “Did you know it would be your last day on earth today?”

“Don’t be a grump.”

“It is,” you say, shoving Leah off you and rolling over to smash your face back into the pillow, “five in the morning. You’re lucky I love you.”

Leah’s teeth graze your ear. “I am. I know it.” She pulls the sheets down and you groan as the cold hits your bare legs.

“Leah,” you complain, flailing a hand out blindly for the covers. “It’s our day off. Days off are for sleeping.”

Leah licks the back of your thigh. “Sleep, then.” She bites the swell of your ass, through your underwear, and you groan again, your legs parting despite you not wanting.

“You’re being distracting.”

“Am I?” Leah’s voice is all sex, rough, and fake innocence. She bites again, harder. “My deepest apologies.” She hooks her fingers in your underwear and you raise your hips, letting them slide away. Leah’s teeth sink into your skin and you shiver again, less from the cold this time.

“I don’t believe you,” you mumble into the pillow. “Where was this attitude after that fundraiser?”

Leah’s lips press against the small of your back in a pout. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

You look over your shoulder. “You fell asleep while I was going down on you. I’m never letting you live it down. I’m going to mention it in the wedding vows.”

“Hm,” Leah hums, urging her hips up and digging her hands firmly into your inner thighs, spreading you wide. “I’ll just have to try and make it up to you.”

You suck in a breath at the first teasing swipe of Leah’s tongue. “Fuck.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Leah whispers against your center, pressed close and intimate. “Have I told you that I love your cunt?”

You try to squeeze your legs together, Leah’s firm grip preventing it, and moan. “You know what swearing does to me.”

Leah licks her again, sloppy, suckling obscenely. “Love your cunt. Love fucking you.” She slips in a long finger, crooking and pressing in hard. You make a sound, sharp, when she withdraws, watching your body cling to her finger. “Love your noises.” Leah makes a buzzing sound against your clit and your arches, writhing.

“Stop teasing,” you gasp.

“Of course,” Leah murmurs, pausing to suck a mark into your inner thigh, high near the juncture of your hip. Leah lifts you up onto her knees and you can feel the flex of her forearms and her wrists. Leah licks into you from behind, her jaw working, fingers massaging. She makes soft, hungry noises, and eager growls, rumbling out from her chest and punching into you.

You come embarrassingly fast, your hands clawing at the mattress, and you collapse and gasp for air. Leah crawls up your back and kisses your shoulder, damp from sweat. “Okay,” you pants, “I forgive you for waking me up. Worth it.”

Leah purrs against the back of your neck, satisfied. “Happy anniversary.”

You wait until Leah has fallen asleep, after breakfast in bed, feeding each other by hand chasing fruit with kisses, and letting crumbs spill everywhere. Leah yawns like a kitten until you tuck her against the mattress and urge her to take a nap. You slip off the bed, careful, quiet, and rummage in the hall closet, muttering, until you find what you’re looking for.

“Five more minutes.”Leah is boneless under you, mumbling into the pillow and pushing back against your hands. “Okay,” you say, sliding off her. You extend a hand and Leah takes it, letting you lead her into the bathroom.

“Shower sex will never work,” Leah says mildly. “We’ve talked about this.”

You sigh, heavily, stripping your clothes off and tossing them into the corner. “Stop stomping on my dreams. C’mere.” Leah steps close, pleased, and you kiss, easy and familiar. You turn the both of you around, slow, until Leah’s back leans against the counter. You meet your own eyes in the mirror and smile.

Leah is watching you, amused. “Hedonist.”

“Your fault.” you kiss Leah’s throat, watching the shivers roll up Leah’s back in the mirror. “For being so hot. Can’t help it. I’m powerless against you.”

Leah flushes faintly pink; still, after all the times they’ve kissed and all the minutes they’ve spent talking and the hours you have mapped Leah’s body with your fingers, your tongue, your skin; still Leah looks disbelieving when you whisper how beautiful she is, how strong, how brave. “Flatterer,” is all she says, almost demure. You kneel before her and nuzzle at the inside of her knee.

“I love you,” you say, and watch it roll across Leah’s face as her eyes close and her legs part; acceptance, wonder, reciprocation. You love your tongue in Leah, the taste, the textures, the way she breathes your name on a shudder, her hands in your hair. Leah bucks her hips and you urge Leah’s hands until Leah’s holding you still to grind against your chin, your cheek, your jaw, sloppy and gasping, until she cries out, once, sharp, clenching hard. You keep going until Leah tugs you up for a kiss. “You taste good,” you hum, and Leah rubs a knuckle over your panties.

“Let me,” she says, soft. “You want my mouth?”

“All I want is you.” You step closer, kissing harder, and find Leah’s fingers, guiding them to where you want them. You watch Leah’s back flex while she fucks you, leaning your forehead on Leah’s shoulder while you gasp and moans and shudder. Your knees give out and Leah catches you, sliding you both down into a puddle on the cold tile.

Leah draws a bath and settles against the back of the tub. You sigh when you slip into the steaming water, candles burning on the windowsill. Leah massages your scalp until you go boneless, suds sliding down the back of your neck, and you both sit, breathing quietly and nuzzling, until the water gets cold.

Leah pays the delivery of food and you take the opportunity to take out the parcel from your dresser drawer, hiding it under the couch. You both have dinner at the table as you both split a bottle of wine on the couch, curled around each other and giggling, spilling on the floor, the cushions, each other. “I bought something,” you say, the wine humming in your blood in the best way; warming, daring. “I’m nervous.”

“The mysterious package,” Leah says seriously, then snorts when you giggle. It’s so adorable you have to pause to kiss her before retrieving what’s under the couch. You present it and Leah takes it from you, brow furrowed. She looks at it a long time, then at you, then back at the dildo and harness. Her expression flinches, and you grab her before she can retreat, pulling Leah on top of you.

“Stop it,” you say firmly. “You know that’s not why. We could throw this away right now and our sex would still be the hottest around.”

“I have never,” Leah starts, hesitant.

“It’s not about that. It’s just… if you want. If we want.”

Leah rubs a thumb over the head of the toy. “You want to…?”

You bite your lip. “Actually, I thought you might.”

Leah's breath catches. “Oh?” Her voice comes out slightly strangled. She stands, quick, and it takes you both a minute to figure it out, but soon she has it strapped around her hips, snug. Leah looks down at herself, slightly bemused. “Is this what all the fuss is about?”

You flick it to watch it jiggle. “It looks better on you than half the dudes I’ve been with.” you go to your knees. “Can I blow you?”

Leah looks down at you, reaching out a hand to wrap your hair around her fingers. “I can’t feel it, you know.” you take the toy into your mouth, drawing it into your throat, letting your lips stretch, spit shiny.

You pull away. “No interest?”

Leah’s hands sink into your scalp, and she holds you still as she tilts her hips forward. “Maybe I spoke too soon,” she murmurs, hoarse. Leah fucks you’s face, slow and steady and careful, and you relax your throat, taking it.

You close your teeth around the toy and give a soft tug. “I need you in me,” you say, and Leah’s eyes go darker. She pulls you to your feet, eager, and kisses you, hot and filthy. You link your fingers and go to make for the bedroom.

“No,” Leah says, low. She pushes you until you bump against the dining table, knocking the wine glasses on their sides. She steps close and frowns, the height’s not quite right. “Turn around.”

“Fuck,” you say, bracing your hips against the edge, facing away. “Wait..” you yank the hoodie off and lean over, bracing your elbows and forearms flat against the table. “Okay, yeah.”

Leah’s fingers trace up the inside of your leg. “You’re so wet,” Leah says, and you shiver. Leah fingers dip in you, teasing, and then disappear. “For me?” Leah asks, and you hear her sucking on her fingers.

“Fuck,” you choke out, impossibly turned on.

“Now even wetter,” Leah murmurs. She uses her foot to knock you’s stance wider, and when you lift your hips up you hear Leah’s breath catch. Leah braces a hand against the small of your back. “Okay?” she asks.

“Yeah.” and then Leah enters you, torturously slow, and you don't exhale until she bottoms out, your hips bumping. “Oh,” you say, your breath rushing out. You suck in a lungful of air, and then another. “Oh, fuck me.”

Leah shakes in a small laugh. “I am.”

You open your mouth, for something sassy about Leah’s attitude, but Leah thrusts forward, minutely, and the words fall away. You gasp instead, your head falling forward. “More,” you beg, “harder.” Leah draws back, inch by inch, then slams in. “Yeah,” you say, your legs shaking, “c’mon Leah..”

Leah fucks you, fast and controlled, her hand keeping you flat against the table, the glasses rolling off and shattering against the floor. “Jesus,” Leah says, wrenched from her chest, “you..”

“My hair,” you rasp, your forehead pressed against your hands as you rock back into Leah’s rhythm. “LeLeah, please..” Leah grabs a handful and yanks it and you clenches, going on your tiptoes. Leah stops, suddenly, her hips still and her hand gone, and you moan, your nails scrabbling at the wood. “No…”

“Quiet,” Leah says, breathless, and you feel fabric swoop against your skin, tickling. Leah’s taken off her shirt, you realize, and when she bends low, bearing your torso flat against the table, it’s skin to skin, her breasts brushing then pressing on your back. Leah starts moving again, grinding circles and sharp snaps of her hips, too varied for you to predict, and you moan again, helpless.

“Leah,” you pants against the table, drool escaping before you can suck it back.

“You feel amazing,” Leah growls in your ear. “I didn’t think…” Leah stops for a soft noise, low and rumbly, and you clench again.

“Close,” you manage to choke out, and Leah picks up the pace even as she sneaks a hand around to press against your clit, firm and unrelenting.

“I didn’t think it would feel this good,” Leah pants. “I think I could come from just this. Just you.”

There’s pressure building inside you, unfamiliar and inevitable. “Uh,” is all you manage, just a grunt. The table legs scrape against the floor. “Uh, fuck. Fu-fuck,” you lean your head back and to the side, and Leah kisses you, almost missing your mouth, jolting you farther forward.

“I want to feel you come,” Leah is saying into your shoulder, rushed and rough. “I love you.” She bites the back of your neck, hard, and you feel it again, the full rush of wetness, waiting to overflow, the pressure unbearable.

“Wait..” you panic, abrupt, trying to pull away, “stop..” Leah stills immediately, her hands resting on your hips, but you are already coming. You feel it gush out of you, flooding; you can hear it hit the floor with a splash. You collapse onto the table, twitching violently.

Leah rubs her sides, hesitant. “My love?”

“Sorry,” you gasp when you can talk again, still shuddering, “sorry sorry, oh my god, fuck…did I just pee on you?”

There’s a pause. “No,” Leah says, gently. “Did…did you think you did?”

You flushed so hot and bright you could feel it, your cheeks on fire. “Shit. That’s never happened before.”

Leah shivers. “Hot,” she assures you. She hesitates, “You okay?”

You shudder, your body still jolting. “Yeah. It was…it was really good. Fuck.”

“Good.” Leah pulls out, careful even as she moves quickly, pulling you up and around and propping you to sit up on the table. She kneels and licks up your legs, slurping up to your cunt and licking inside.

“I cannot believe,” you pant, one hand on the back of Leah’s head to keep her close and the other leaning behind you, “that I ever thought you were vanilla.” Your whole body locks up for a second and you rock, moaning. “You’re so fucking dirty,” you say, faintly strangled.

“Made you squirt,” Leah hums, smugly self-satisfied. She gives a final lick, broad and long, and stands again. “Nobody else has ever..”

“Okay,” you say, pushing two fingers into Leah’s mouth. “Back in me before your head gets too big.” You hook your legs around Leah and pull her in, guiding Leah in even as Leah sucks at your fingers, teeth grazing. “You can..” Leah surges forward and you gasp. “You can come from this?”

Leah leans her forehead on your shoulders, her thrusts sloppy and jerky. “Yeah,” she breathes.

You lock your legs together and lean back, bracing your hands on the table over her head and shoving yourself back onto Leah’s thrusts. “C’mon,” you say, and Leah half-collapses onto you, hips pistoning erratically. “You made me come so hard,” you say softly, slipping your fingers back into Leah’s mouth. “Made me feel so good.” Leah groans, shaking. “Good girl,” you say, and when Leah’s entire body shudders up, her hips going faster, you say: “my good girl.”

“Fuck,” Leah sobs. She strains her head back, her palms slapping against the table as she fumbles for more leverage.

“Come for me,” you say, “please, baby? For me?”

“Almost,” Leah mutters, “almost..” She sounds high, breathy, and wobbly.

“Come,” you say, putting an order into it, and Leah’s body draws up tight for a few long seconds before she suddenly relaxes, tucking herself against your body and riding out her orgasm in little shivers, tiny mewls. You pet her hair and nuzzle her cheek, before shifting with a slight wince.

“Sorry,” Leah mutters. She hauls herself upright and pauses. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, and shudder when Leah pulls out with a wet noise. Leah’s fingers are fumbly on the harness and you sit up to help her. “Clean up tomorrow,” you say. Leah sways, and you both lean on each other as you stumble down the hall. “Fuck,” you sigh as you collapse facedown into your pillow. “Bedtime.”

You pat Leah on the ass. “Talk tomorrow?” Leah grunts, agreeing, and you open your eyes enough to kiss her once, stating. “Happy anniversary.”

“Made you squirt,” Leah mumbles, smashing into your shoulder. “No more fundraiser teasing.”

“We’ll fucking see about that,” you say, and passes out, Leah breathing warm against your neck.

[rinslutz]

ᥫ᭡ “WHAT AM I HERE FOR?” — GOJO SATORU

ㅤꞋꞌꞋꞌ gn reader angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, gojo is clingy, insecurities

you’re fed up with his absence. he’s in pain and he doesn’t know what to do.

you’re making dinner for two, though it is likely you’ll be eating it alone. you still keep hope alive by continuing to make him dinner every night. the least he could do is eat it when he comes home in the middle of the night, but he doesn’t even do that. you don’t know if he’s been eating. you don’t know anything.

you jump in surprise as you hear the front door opening. you stop cutting the vegetables in front of you, not sure if you hallucinated it. satoru’s heavy foot step walking towards you reassures you that you didn’t.

his arms wrap tightly around your waist. the pads of his fingers press into your abdomen. he doesn’t speak right away. maybe it’s because he knows you won't listen to him or maybe he has nothing to say at all.

he loudly and obnoxiously sighs. he’s insufferable, you think. instead of speaking up, instead of apologizing, he obviously wants you to speak first. as stubborn as you are you’d take a lifelong vow of silence if it meant you wouldn’t have to give in first.

“you’re still mad at me.” you immediately roll your eyes, not than he can see anyway. he doesn’t have to see your face to know your reaction. contrary to what you think, he knows you.

you think he pays little attention to you when in reality he knows everything about you. he notices that you put way too much butter on your toast. he knows you hate sleeping with socks on. he knows you pretend to be asleep when he comes home late because you don’t want him to know that you can’t sleep without him. he pretends he doesn’t though. that’s how you ended up in this situation

he pretends to not care sometimes. you don’t know why and apparently neither does he. in the past three months, he hasn’t spent much time with you and it began to take a toll on you. satoru is annoying though, so when you brought it up he pretended that everything was okay.

it’s not okay. he knows that more than you.

“what am i here for?” you finally speak up. you stop chopping up vegetables as you wait for his answer. he arms go lax around you.

“hm? what do you—”

“you’re never here and i never see you. so, what am i here for?” you immediately cut him off. you don’t want to get angry again. you wish you didn’t care anymore, the way it seems he doesn’t.

“because i love you.” you scoff and laugh bitterly. you shove his arms from around your waist and go back to cutting. your chops are harsh and loud compared to earlier.

satoru knows he’s messed up but for some reason he doesn’t know how not to. how is he supposed to explain that the reason he hasn’t been around as much is because he can’t stand to look at you. he doesn’t think that in a mean way. he loves you more than he’s ever loved anything which is why it hurts so much.

he doesn’t know what he’s doing. he’s sacred. scared that one day everything will fall apart. when he looks at you he sees everything he’s ever wanted. when you have everything and you hold it in the palm of your hand it feels fragile. he doesn’t want to break you. he doesn’t want to break this, what’s between you two. it seems that’s where it’s headed anyway.

“hey. look at me.” he tries to touch your arm but you immediately move from his grasp. he hears you sniffling as you continue to cut more vegetables. you frustratedly wipe away the tears that obstruct your view.

“you’re going to cut yourself. just stop for a second.” to his surprise he’s able to successfully remove the knife from your hands. unfortunately, your sniffles only escalate to sobs. he feels his heart plummet into the pit of his stomach. he immediately grabs your face in both hands. he thumbs fail at wiping away your unending tears.

“can…can you just tell me the truth?” your cries subdue long enough for you to speak. “what’s happened between us? is it me?”

“no.” satoru’s voice is shaky as he cuts you off. “you’re perfect. it’s my fault.” and now satoru is crying. his hands feel numb and his chest hurts.

you reach up to wrap your hands around his that are placed on your face. “tell me.” your watery eyes stare bore into his. this is the first time you’ve actually looked at him since he got home. it hurts just like it does every time. he feels that familiar pain in the pit of his stomach and that ache in his heart.

“i love you, and i know that’s not enough, and that's not a real explanation. i just need you to understand that when i look at you it hurt.” satoru knows he shouldn’t have left it at that when a look of hurt flashes in your eyes. you pull your hands away from his but he immediately grabs them again and places them against his chest.

“i didn’t mean it like that. i just…i’m scared. i want you forever. but when i look at you my stupid brain tells me that this won’t last forever.” the lump forming in his throat cuts him off. his eyes burn and his throat burn and everything burns.

your lips part and you're unsure what to say. you can’t tell him that you’re his forever because unfortunately, you can’t tell the future. you want to be though. no matter how much this whole situation broke your heart into tiny pieces, you would go through it again if it mean satoru would finally bare his soul to you.

“i’m here now though.” you smile sadly at him. “there’s no way to know if this will last forever, but i know it won’t if you keep pushing me away.” satoru knows you’re right. he has always known that what he was doing was stupid.

you pull your hands from his grasp this time you wipe away his tears. “stay here with me and i promise i’m not going anywhere.” you whisper.

satoru pulls you close and rests his forehead against yours. “i love you.” he didn’t even need to say it. you see it in his eyes and for the first time, you realize he does care.

“i love you more.” and the spark is back in his eyes. he rolls his very red eyes in fake annoyance.

“even in a sappy time like this you’re trying to outdo me.” you laugh for the first time in a while and it’s music to his ears.

“well you just confessed your deep and darkest fear of losing me so now i have to outdo you.” satoru rolls his eyes again but this time he grabs your face and pulls it towards his.

his lips brush against yours. “i love you times infinity.” and he knows you can’t beat that so he kisses you before you can speak.

©rinslutz

[corroded-hellfire]

Older Eddie idea! May be he goes to eat reader out and she says no and he's like oh and she's like yea I haven't showered all day so u can't and he's so confused and she's like yea cuz what if it smells bad?! And Eddie comforting her and then making some comment on how he's a man (bc let's be honest boys her age r little bitches)

Is there anything better than older!Eddie going down? I think not.

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: smut, oral, f!receiving, older!eddie

Your back bounces against the mattress as you land on top of the brown comforter. Eddie smirks down at you, a hungry gleam in his eye as he tugs down the zipper of his coveralls. It didn’t even take him two minutes to get you in this position after walking in the door from work. It’s not like he would’ve had to work hard for it anyway—you were already counting down the minutes until his truck rolled up to the trailer. 

Eddie shucks off his navy coveralls and kneels on the foot of the mattress. His hands make quick work of yanking your shirt over your head, his own undershirt following yours to the floor. You scramble back towards the pillows and Eddie unbuttons your jeans with ease. They’re deftly pulled off, your pink cotton panties right behind them. 

But when Eddie lowers himself to his stomach and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, a different kind of urgency surges through you.

“N-No, don’t,” you say, unsuccessfully attempting to sit up. With the way your body is positioned against your boyfriend’s though, it’s practically impossible. 

Eddie stays where he is, just lifts his head up and looks at you with a furrowed brow.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“I, um…” Your face feels like it’s on fire and it’s difficult to look him in the eye. “I haven’t showered all day. So, uh, you c-can’t.”

Eddie looks even more confused now that you’ve attempted to explain. He lets your leg slip off his shoulder and he pushes himself up until he’s kneeling between your spread legs.

“Wait, what do you mean I can’t because you haven’t showered?” 

The embarrassment only grows and makes you want to curl up in your own skin and die. 

“Because, like,” you start, lips fumbling over your words, “what if it smells bad? ‘Cause it’s not…freshly cleaned.”

Understanding clicks in Eddie’s mind and his scrunched-up face relaxes. A beat passes and a small smile curls the corners of his lips and makes the faint lines near his eyes crinkle.

“Sweetheart, you think you have to shower before I go down on you?” Eddie shakes his head and crawls up your body. He hovers over you until he comes nose to nose with you, then he lowers his body to rest on top of yours, making you squeak as if he’s crushing you with his weight. He chuckles and nips at your nose before he continues. “Oh, my love. Not to be gross, but you could go all summer without bathing, and I’d still rip your clothes off and bury my face between your legs.”

“Eww,” you say with a laugh.

Your boyfriend’s smile grows when he hears the happy sound. He reaches up with one arm and his large hand cups the side of your face. 

“Baby, thinking about eating you out got me through most of work today,” he says. “Not once did it cross my mind whether you took a shower before you drove over here or not.”

“Really?” you ask, one hand coming up to play with the curls at the base of Eddie’s neck. “You thought about it most of the day?”

“You kidding me?” Eddie asks. “I couldn’t get a new engine into a pickup truck, so I was grumpy and my back hurt from being bent beneath the hood for so long. Thinking about that pretty pussy of yours is all that kept me from knocking the hood down and crushing myself.”

“Don’t do that,” you say with the most adorable pout that Eddie’s ever seen.

“I won’t,” he vows. “As long as you don’t keep these sexy legs closed just because you haven’t showered.” 

“Okay,” you agree softly.

“Whoever made you think that you have to do that is an idiot,” Eddie tells you. “Must’ve been some stupid boy.”

You nod and Eddie lets out an unsurprised hum.

“Stupid, stupid boys,” he mumbles, pressing kisses against your jaw. “That was the problem, baby. All you needed was a real man.”

A pleasant shiver goes down your body at his gruff tone. 

“Now, let me show you how a real man treats his woman.”

Eddie scoots back to his previous position between your legs and wastes no time licking a stripe up your folds. A low whine rumbles from your chest and Eddie smirks against your heat. He nudges your legs even further apart and flicks his tongue over your clit. 

Time stands still as Eddie’s tongue moves down to prod at your hole. His saliva mixing with your arousal causes a lewd smacking sound that only turns you on even more. 

“Fuck, I love this pussy,” Eddie growls against you. The vibrations only add to the exquisite pleasure. “You taste so goddamn good.”

“E-Eddie,” you whimper.

He moans against you in response, his tongue lapping up everything you have to give him, and he greedily aches for more. 

Your hands find his hair as your eyes slip closed in pleasure. Fingers tangle in his salt and pepper curls and your nails gently scratch at his scalp.

Eddie’s arms wrap around your thighs and pull you impossibly closer to him, his face practically drowning in your pussy. He’d die a happy man that way. 

The rapid rise and fall of your chest and labored breath have you lost in the moment, your body inching its way closer to ecstasy with every swipe of Eddie’s tongue. 

His lips attach to your clit, and he gives a harsh suck, practically inhaling your soul out of your body. 

“Jesus, Eddie, I’m—I-I’m so close.”

Your boyfriend’s nose nudges against your sensitive nub as his tongue works at your throbbing hole. He knows just how to wind your body up to its peak. 

“Fuck!” you cry as the wave crashes over you.

Sparks dance behind your closed eyelids while your hips buck against Eddie’s face. Normally, he’d hold them down but he’s enjoying you writhing against him, using him to wring every bit of pleasure out of your orgasm. 

When he finally pulls away, his chin is shiny with your slick. You’re still trying to catch your breath as he crawls up and attaches his mouth to yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“How was that, baby?” he mumbles against your lips.

It takes a few moments before you’re able to speak.

“Thank God…Thank God I have a real man.”

[shalomniscient]

you’re seven years old and barefoot on the beach of yaoguang shoal with sand between your toes and salt-brushed wind in your hair when ningguang makes her first and only promise to you.

“when we grow up, i’ll marry you.”

the words are big, heavy on her child’s tongue but she speaks them with conviction nonetheless. her hands are laced with yours, your small fingers slotting perfectly with one another. the sunset makes her eyes glow like how you imagine the amber does at jueyun karst. you’re too young, too childish to really understand the weight of her vow—but you nod with a smile, squeezing her hands tighter.

“i’ll wait for you,” you say, hoping she can hear the sincerity in your voice. it’s a foolish hope, because you know that ningguang knows you better than you even know yourself. she returns your smile with one of her own, her hand never leaving yours as you walk back to your village, the sunset at your backs. the light paints ningguang in gold, and you can’t help but think at seven years old that this is how things should be—hand in hand with the girl you know you love before you even knew the meaning of the word, barefoot together in the sand.

you’re seven years old when you learn how things should be, but you’re fifteen years old when you learn how things are.

ningguang leaves for the city. she tells you before she goes, of course, holds you close as you weep selfishly into her shoulder. her hands are gentle as she sifts them through your hair, along your scalp and down the nape of your neck before wrapping around your slim, hunger-carved shoulders. i have to go, she’d said, or else how will i afford our wedding? and you’d wanted to tell her that it didn’t matter at all what kind of wedding you had, as long as she stayed with you—that all the riches in the world are worthless without her. but for as much as she knows you, you know her, and you know that ningguang is not to be deterred once she sets her mind on something, so you send her off with a delicately packed mora meat and a prayer in your heart that she’ll come back soon.

you’re fifteen years old when you learn how things are, and you’re twenty-one years old when you learn how things will be.

it’s been six years since ningguang left. even in the backwater village you call home, tales of ningguang’s exploits reach your ears. how she runs circles around liyue’s businessmen and businesswomen, how she effortlessly finds her place amidst liyue’s social elite, how she’s rising, rising, rising like an unstoppable eclipsing star. she keeps writing to you, always keeping you updated on her progress, and you always write back, filling your letters with the mundanity of your day-to-day life—about the way the glaze lillies have been blooming, or about the way everyone around you says you’d make a fine wife.

my parents are getting restless, you confess in one letter. i’m getting older, and they think i should get married soon.

the reply that returns the next week is simple, but succint. i haven’t forgotten. wait for me, please. and you know she hasn’t, which is why it kills you when your new husband forbids you from ever writing to her again. you weep yourself to sleep on your side of the bed for the next week following your wedding night. the distress of wondering—if ningguang is worried, if she’s upset, or worse, if she’s hurt by you—drives you near insane to the point you worry yourself sick. your husband only tells you to stop holding on to naive childhood promises and perform your duties as a wife. it is the only thing you are good for, now.

you’re twenty-one years old when you learn how things will be, but you’re twenty-nine when you learn that things can change.

in the years you have been married, your husband has grown—not in character, but in wealth. he is rich enough, now, to take you and himself from your village and to the big city to further his business. a small spark flickers to life in your chest that you might see her again, but it fizzles out when your husband makes it clear that you are just to stay at home. you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about anything other than the house, he’d said. i’ll give you everything you need. and you know better than to argue with him, so you resign yourself to staying at home, spending your days gazing up at that palace in the sky and wondering if its lady even remembers you—or if she, like you, has decided to let go of naive childhood promises. after all, she has the world now, can see it from the edges of her floating sanctuary. what need has she of the memory of being barefoot in the sand at seven years old?

(selfishly, you pray she hasn’t forgotten, even if she has no need for remembrance. you pray she chooses to remember.)

change comes when a woman in a white fur jacket and the prettiest emerald eyes you’ve ever seen breaks into your house. it’s certainly a very unorthodox meeting, and you come dangerously close to throwing the knife you were using to finely dice some cabbage at her. the woman only laughs, nimbly prying it from your hands and setting it on the counter. before you can even ask her what in rex lapis’s name she’s doing in your house, she says the words that make your blood run cold.

the tianquan wants to see you.

ningguang wants to see you.

the woman promptly leaves after delivering her message and additionally telling you not to breath a word of it to your husband, leaving you standing in your kitchen reeling from the shock. the mora meat you were working on putting together is forgotten as you swallow your nerves and take the chance you’ve waited nine years for. you’re nearly sick with it by the time you’ve ascended to the jade chamber in all of its opulence, feeling like you stick out like a sore thumb.

but the moment you see ningguang again, everything else fades to white noise. archons, she’s as beautiful as the day you last saw her. she was lovely dressed in commoner’s clothes, and she is just as lovely dressed in finery no doubt worth more than a year’s worth of your rent. she will never be anything other than lovely in your eyes.

“it’s been a while,” she says softly, the first to break the silence. you nearly cry at finally hearing her voice again. instead, you stifle it with a wet chuckle.

“only took fourteen years.”

ningguang manages a small laugh, lips curving upward in a smile you know—you remember—is reserved only for you. she offers you a seat by her desk, and two secretaries file in to place a tea set down by both of you, before disappearing as quickly as they came. and then ningguang is telling you about the real reason she asked to see you; your husband, as you are quite unsurprised, is involved with some sort of fraud, and the prosecution—the tianquan’s office—needs a witness. namely, you. after all, who better than the wife of the man himself? you try not to let your disappointment show, though, and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking her if she remembers—or worse, if she missed you. your conversation with her is pure business, and when you descend from the chamber later, it’s only with the taste of sweet tea on your tongue and half your heart; the other half you seem to have left with her, up in the clouds.

your husband, to his displeasure and rage, finds himself in millelith custody the very next day. and the very next week, you, to your pleasure and joy, find yourself lacking a husband. the millelith who take him away politely point you to an office down the street ran by a pink-haired half-adeptus, who takes care of your divorce affairs with a cheery smile in less than four days. you’re both scared and impressed—is this just how people move in the big city…? you don’t have time to dwell on the question, because unfortunately, without your husband you are also without your income, and without your income you are also without your house. which would be a very big problem; were it not for the fact that ningguang once again invites you to the jade chamber, but this time, to stay with her. you nearly decline because of the sheer insanity of the request, but the part of your heart there with her wins out. you relent, and now, you find yourself playing house with the tianquan of the liyue qixing.

it’s almost frightening, how quickly you fall back into old habits. ningguang, you find, hasn’t changed much. she is still whip-smart, still as cunning as she is devious, but she is still just as kind as she was before. something in you aches viscerally when you see the way she speaks with the children, offering them candies and goodies as she goes. (things neither of you had the luxury in indulging as children.) you smile and tell her, you haven’t changed at all. she only looks at you and returns it with, have you? the answer eluded you at the time, but thinking about it more, you would say that yes, i have. but the parts that loved you never did.

(you don’t say this out loud, of course. it’s too early, and the chasm of years between you both yawns achingly large. but by the glint of her eyes, you think she knows. and if she didn’t, the time and care she spent relearning you would have told her as well.)

since you’re not sure how long ningguang will let you stay, you decide to make the most of it. you’re almost thankful for the nine dull years you spent with your former husband—since at the very least, it taught you how to be a half decent wife. it’s all you’re good for now, after all. ningguang’s meals are cooked by you, and you’re the one who brings her tea in the afternoons and evenings. you talk with her over your cups like nothing ever happened, and you walk with her round the perimeter of the jade chamber as the sun sets, her hand close enough to hold. rumors dance in the wind like dandelions about the tianquan’s new companion; some call you an old friend, others, a lover. the answer is somehow both, yet neither. she is everything to you, and more.

(and you are everything to her and more. the infinte she has been searching for her whole life is right there in your eyes. it always has been.)

you’re twenty nine years old when you realise things can change, and you’re thirty years old when you remember how things should be.

ningguang takes a rare day off, and invites you on a little excursion to yaoguang shoal. it’s been a year since you started living with her. a year since you’ve been freed from a man you never loved, and a year since you’ve come to realise that it’s because you’re still in love with ningguang—and that perhaps, you never stopped. it’s not as difficult as an epiphany to come to terms with, but it does make your chest ache every time you look at her. especially now, in this place, where the waves carry salt-brushed wind and memories of a distant time. the sun hangs low in the sky, and ningguang is kicking off her heels, barefoot in the sand. all of a sudden you’re seven years old again, watching her watch the waves and wondering if her eyes glow the same like the amber at jueyun karst. you slip your own footwear off too, standing by her side in the sand, the water lapping at your ankles. she speaks first.

“i still remember,” she murmurs, and your heart catches in your throat. when she looks at you, it’s with all the bare innocence she looked at you with twenty-three years ago. “do you?”

“of course,” you answer, without a beat of hesitation. “how could i forget?” how could i forget you?

ningguang smiles. “then you remember what i promised you here?”

“yes,” you breathe. “i remember.”

the woman before you exhales, the sound nearly drowned out by the sigh of the waves as they crash onto the shore. her geo vision glimmers, and a crystalline box manifests in her hands—her hands that tremble as they open it, revealing a simple golden band inside. “will you forgive me for taking so long?” she whispers, and you clasp your hands over her own, steadying them. you rest your forehead against hers, caught halfway between a sob and a laugh.

“i would have waited for you forever, ningguang.”

she exhales again. catches her breath. “then, will you let me fulfill my promise and marry me?”

you answer her with the only possible answer, catching her lips in a kiss twenty-three years in the making.

yes.

[dekariosclan]

Gale and Tav’s wedding HCs

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Gale Dekarios cries at his wedding.

The moment he sees Tav—either waiting for him at the altar, or walking towards him as he waits, depending on how they wish to do the ceremony—his eyes fill up, and his lip starts quivering, because he realizes it’s actually happening. He can’t help but get emotional when he feels that overwhelming sense of relief and joy.

He might pull himself together for proclaiming his vows, but when Tav begins their vows and Gale hears how much they love him, it makes him realize yet again how he never received that level of affection and love from anyone, and how thankful he is that Tav found him, and how he still can’t believe that someone so wonderful is actually his and—*tears rolling down his face*

Tara (who is a combo of Best Man/Tressym of Honor/Ring Bearer) is constantly loudly whispering “Mister Dekarios, your eyes are wet again! Please pull yourself together! Chin up!”

If Tav enjoys dancing, Gale ‘mine-was-a-popular-hand-at-the-Blackstaff-ball’ Dekarios would be delighted to oblige.

If Tav would like to dance but never learned how, Gale would happily teach them before their wedding OR just straight up enchant them to be able to dance perfectly the day of. Perks of marrying a wizard etc.

If Tav is too shy and/or would not like to dance, no matter. Instead of a ‘first dance’, they will have a ‘first song’ in which Gale will serenade them later that night, as they lay together in their marriage bed. Softly singing into their ear, pausing every so often to press his lips to their neck, shoulders, chest… (spoiler: he does not make it through the entire song without….interruption.)

The song would have to meet with Gale’s exacting standards and perfectly represent his love, which means: NO reference to gender, be 10000% about loyalty and devotion, and mention/declare love AT LEAST TWENTY-FIVE TIMES.

….allow me to present Gale’s Wedding Song.

If Tav is an illithid, Gale WILL insist on serenading them in front of the gathered guests. Just to reinforce how much he loves his mindflayer spouse, in case anyone had doubts.

Gale and Tav will of course get their wedding portrait painted, and Tara will be happy to offer instruction on Gale to the painter: “Don’t paint his tears in! Make him as stoic as you can! And don’t paint that THING on his chin, either, if you please.”

After the ceremony, Gale will not let go of his new spouse’s hand unless he absolutely has to. The moment Tav’s hand is free again, it will be recaptured and their fingers interlaced with his once more.

Gale will give Tav ample forehead kisses, cheek kisses, and kisses on the back of their hand throughout the evening, but if Tav tries to pull him into a full kiss he’ll break it the moment he feels them try to deepen it, their tongue starting to tease his lips open...

He’ll press his forehead to theirs and whisper, “My love, do you wish to torment me? Only a few more hours until we can be alone …unless, of course, I decide to dimension door us both away from the festivities…”

Gale’s mother Morena is over the moon for the entire wedding, and just like Gale, her affection is not lessened a bit if Gale’s beloved is an illithid.

If any of the guests dare say anything even slightly derogatory about her new family member, they will be getting a verbal flaying from her the likes of which they will not be recovering from anytime soon.

The cake will be three tiers and decorated/enchanted to look like the night sky (to match their wedding invite, of course), and Gale will make sure there are exactly 1,000 stars as a symbol of their everlasting love. Yes, he will count them all.

If Tav is an illithid, they will have their own tier that has a layer of whipped brain filling included. I don’t make the rules, Gale insisted on this.

And last but not least—the catering will all be handled by fifteen copies of this guy:

[bunnys-kisses]

Hi Bunny,

I've been following your page for awhile and was wondering if I could order some John Price Lemon slices and beer brownies on the house??

I adore your stories and writing style, and you are in fact someone's girlfriends favorite author 😌

Hope your day is wonderful n thank you ♥︎

bakery menu!

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i know i've been horribly lacking at call of duty bakery fics! but with call of duty i'll get an idea in my head that is seperate than the bakery fics. i still deeply love my boys (and esp john price), so i'll try to be more on top of the call of duty fics because so many of you have been so sweet with your prompts <3 (also john price would totally love beer brownies just as a dessert, lol)

lemon slice: "i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making." + beer brownies: "stick your tongue out anymore and you'll look like a dog." + on the house (matcha latte: collars/bondage)

cw: smut/pwp, dom!price, sub!reader, dirty talk/degrading language, age gap (20s/40s), wife!reader, wife/domestic kink, carpet sex, oral sex, pet names (puppy, baby girl)

price liked being the man of the house. while most times your relationship was an equal affair. price admired you like flowers did the sun. he'd never hurt his baby girl, even with the age gap that would make some gawk at. a man in his near fifties with a woman who was just out of university. plus, he made her a stay-at-home wife within three months of dating?

there had to be something else going on. even your parents were a little shocked at the news. but neither of you cared, you were happy. and since your parents wouldn't let you move in with such an older man, the only thing to do was to get married. and now every night price got to be the man of the house and have his lovely girl serve him.

after dinner was served you were on your knees in front of him while he watched television. it was hard for him to focus on the game while your nose was nestled against his dark pubic hair. his grip on the can of beer was tight, any tighter and he'd crush the thing in his palm.

he was so much bigger than you, stronger than you. there was a weight to him that could leave you pinned under him. he was so strong and masculine that you couldn't help yourself but be enthralled by him. you continued to pleasure him orally, but occasionally you made small noises which was accompanied by your thighs rubbing together.

"i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making." he said as he took you by the head of the head and made you look at him. you panted heavily and looked at him with a lustful expression across your features. poor little wifey got too excited.

price chuckled and patted your cheek a roughly, "stick your tongue out anymore and you'll look like a dog." he laughed a little, "maybe i should get the collar out, since you like being my puppy so badly." you whined in response and price pulled away to tuck himself back in his jeans. when he got up, he looked down at you and said, "you stay put, i don't need you getting in trouble, baby girl." then left for the bedroom.

you waited patiently and felt heat curl in your gut. you liked price like this, domineering. when he used his age, height, size against you. when he made you feel small in the best ways. when he returned you could see the green collar in his hands.

it wasn't a neon green, but rather a rich forest green. you swallowed and shifted a little in your spot. when he sat down on the couch with a 'huff' he patted his thigh so you'd climb onto his lap. you did without question and he placed the pretty collar around your neck. then his hand was on your bare thigh, he got to see you naked up close. after dinner you stripped down to give your husband dessert.

"pretty little thing." he said, his voice hot. you squirmed a little at his hands on you. on between your legs and the other supporting your back. he made a vow to love and protect you. even when you panted heavily from his touches.

his calloused fingertips grazed across your wet cunt and he dipped his head against your neck where he laid kisses across the heated skin.

"john."

"i got ya, sweetheart. my little pet." he teased your clit a little and you shuddered. he pulled you closer to him and teased your clit a little more before he said, "get on your hands and knees, beautiful. your mouth isn't enough tonight."

you scurried off, you were naked save for the ankle socks with little bows on them and the pretty green collar. you got onto the carpet and rested your face against your arms with your hips raised. price took one last swig of his beer before he got up and rubbed himself through his jeans. you looked at your husband, coyly, "like this?"

"i've trained you so well." he said as got down on the carpet. while a this age, it was hard to do it on the floor. but, he knew it was either that or up against the couch. the latter would only cause more pain in price's bad knee.

"thank you." you blushed, heat rose in your cheeks as you felt his pointer and middle finger touch your achy cunt again. your back arched. then you heard the clatter of his belt being fully taken off.

"this is how a wife should greet her husband every night. give him a fully belly and you walk away with a full cunt. ya like when i make a mess of her, don't ya?" he watched your back arch from his words. he got his cock out of his jeans and rubbed the slick head up against your pussy, "been missin' her. had to finish myself off in the washroom at work because i was thinkin' about it."

price hated to admit it, but he loved the differences between you two. he kept his pretty wife happy at home, and maybe soon you'd have some company with a pet or a baby. price wasn't getting any younger, about time he used the last of his swimmers for something good.

he pushed his cock into you with ease and watched your tense up. it was really hot. in his honest opinion, you looked beyond beautiful. he was glad he got a ring on you as soon as he did because if anyone else tried to get their hands on you. that would be a problem. you whimpered and clawed into the cream carpet.

you knew your knees were going to be raw by the time your husband was done with you. but, you'd happily accept it regardless.

his pace was steady, on the faster side but every thrust had a force that made your toes curled. you loved your big, hairy husband. you adored how he made you feel, how he could easily move and twist you to his liking. he was dominant and strong, he never wanted his wife to worry.

"that's a good girl, my good little puppy. hearin' your little noises right now." he groaned, "you're a beautiful little thing. you know exactly how to get me goin'. lettin' my fuck you until you see stars." his pace picked up and you gasped into the floor.

"john." you arched your back. your body craved your husband. more than most else. you were never a party girl, but even if you were, your drug of choice would be having your husband, the cervix bully, make you cum time and time again.

it was slightly price's fault why you never went to parties. when he was home from deployment, he wanted to savour every moment with you. hard to go out with friends on a friday when price had you in a full nelson on his bed with his cock hitting just the right places. price didn't need boys sniffing around what was his. not that you'd give them the time of day. he held onto your hips tightly and pushed you further into the carpet as his cock dragged against your softest areas.

he said, "so pretty under me. you take me so well." you could feel your heartbeat in the back of your head as he continued to push up right against you. the feeling was erotic, as were the sounds of your sweet moans, "pretty in your collar. maybe i should've just gotten you a collar instead of a ring. a nice leash as well to make sure that you didn't go runnin' off. be a proper pup for me." he groaned as he continued to fuck you.

his motor mouth made heat wash over you. it was hot in a way that made you want to cry out for more. poor mrs. price, must be such a shame to get fucked into a state of bliss by your domineering, stronger husband.

it wasn't long before you could feel the sparks in your brain as you panted heavily against the carpet. your knees were rubbed raw as were your forearms. thankfully not carpet burn on your face (this time). you panted heavily before you let out a sweet noise, your attempt to tell your lover you were cumming. your cunt tightened around his cock, which only spurred your husband to move faster.

"that's it, that's my baby girl." he groaned as he rammed his cock as fast as he could. he could hear your soft, post-orgasm moans. your back arched a little more before they dropped. which meant price had to hold onto them to get at the right angle of your pussy, "my good little wife."

a few more heavy thrusts and price finished inside of you. trusting you to keep the boys safe.he gripped onto your hips and really pushed into you as he tensed up. he then relaxed and felt his heart hammering in his chest as he slowly pulled out.

a string of cum connected his cock to your pussy. really a match made in heavy. he licked his lips before he slowly got up with a bit of help from the coffee table. he wasn't the spry young man that he used to be. but you loved that about him, your burly old man.

not that you'd say that to him.

your hips dropped as you laid on the floor for a moment. achy and feeling euphoric at the same time. it was cute in price's eyes, after he got his cock back into his jeans once more. he picked up his wife and held you in his arms. he kissed your heated cheeks while you wrapped a leg around his waist for support.

"i got ya, baby girl. now let's get the wife to bed before i get hungry again." he knew you were on another planet right now. you held onto your husband tightly until he tucked you naked into bed, with the covers pulled up to your chin.

"what about the dinner dishes?" you asked.

price patted your cheek, "don't worry about them, beautiful. i can handle them." then let you rest with the familiar collar around your throat. <3

[whismizxal]

show me off dr3

── in which daniel ricciardo loves showing off his greek girlfriend.

── warning: google translated greek, some spelling and grammar mistakes, relationships, kind of suggestive? anything else I missed please let me know xx

f1 drivers. navigation.

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danielricciardo

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 645,922,192 others

danielricciardo be jealous or should I say να ζηλεύεις γιατί είναι ΤΟ ΚΟΡΙΤΣΙ ΜΟΥ. (be jealous because she’s my girl)

tagged; yourusername

view 11,221 comments

username absolute beauty

username I am very jealous

username pls their so cute

username he loveessss showing off the greek she taught him

yourusername duolingo lessons payed off

⤷ danielricciardo you were a better teacher

⤷ duolingo I see how it is.

⤷ danielricciardo she gave me private lessons mate, what can I say?

⤷ username DAMN OUTING HER LIKE THAT

⤷ yourusername you’re sleeping on the couch

⤷ danielricciardo wait I am sorry please baby

username he calls her baby 🤭🤭

⤷ username so do many couples in the world, what about it?

username you forgot to add a comma after the say.

⤷ username aren’t you just a ray of sunshine

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DANIEL AND Y/N WERE IN LOVE.

there was no doubt about it.

the way their eyes glow when the other is mentioned or walks into a room is something that is out of a disney film. the quick glances of adoration they give each other are constantly caught on camera proving their love for each other further more.

the way he looked at her when she was talking made it seem like she hung the moon and the stars, and there wasn’t a soul who could get daniel to tear his eyes away from the girl he loved calling a goddess.

“daniel, you listening?” she asked softly, looking at him a smile which told him she had caught him staring at her.

“can’t lie baby, I wasn’t.” he responded sheepishly but never taking his eyes off her. “you’re just so beautiful.” he muttered as he went closer to her and stroked her cheek.

“how’s the greek going?” she asked with a soft smile as she looked into his eyes with complete affection.

“I think it’s going quite well. wanna hear me speak?” he spoke excitedly, a huge grin on his face as he asked the question.

“of course I do.” she replied, her smile matching his.

“εισαι η αγαπη της ζωης μου.” he says with a accent, a proud smile on his face. (you are the love of my life)

y/n laughed softly as blush crept on her face at his words. she reached up to kiss his cheek. “κι εσύ είσαι δικός μου.” she spoke sweetly. (and you are mine.)

“wait what does that mean?” he asked a little panicked as he goes on his phone to search it up, forcing a laugh out of her.

“I love you so much.” she tells him, grabbing his face to look at her.

he dropped his phone and kissed her with a smile, lifting her off her feet as they laughed into the kiss. “I love you too.” he says against her lips.

“I know, you love to show me off on instagram.” she giggled, running her fingers through his hair.

“can you blame me?” he responded, picking her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist, moving his hands to be under her thighs to hold her. “you’re so fucking beautiful and I need to make sure everyone knows it.” he says, kissing her cheek as she blushed.

“thank you for leaning greek. you don’t understand how much i appreciate it.” she whispers to him, leaning her forehead against his as she runs her fingers through his hair.

“of course love, got make sure your family can understand my vows.” he smiles smugly as he walks towards the sofa still holding her in his arms as he sits down.

“been waiting three years for you to ask.” she joked as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“don’t worry, I’ll ask soon. just don’t want you to be expecting it.” he said, kissing her head when he saw her cheeks turn red.

they both sat in a comfortable silence as daniel rested his head on y/n’s, stroking her thigh as he smiled at the thought of the engagement ring he bought two weeks ago that was hiding in one of his socks at the back of his drawer.

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danielricciardo

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 239,821,292 others

danielricciardo some more future wife appreciation

tagged; yourusername

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yourusername show me off 🤭🤭

⤷ danielricciardo course 🤭

⤷ username he’s in love in love

username looked at my bf and sighed cause why can’t he show me off like this

⤷ username cause if he did then people might try and take you away from him.

⤷ username omg thank you ☺️

⤷ username call me 😉

username future wife this, future wife that, make it present wife!

⤷ yourusername that’s what I am saying. I wanna be called his wife not his girlfriend 😔

⤷ danielricciardo all in due time baby

username yourusername if he gets you to wear a really nice dress and get your nails done, there’s a 95% chance he’s gonna propose

⤷ yourusername 🤭🤭 oml thank youuuu

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yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, carlossainz55, and 282,627,911 others

yourusername HE PROPOSED IN GREEK. I AM GONNA BE HIS WIFEEEEEEEE 🪿🪿

tagged; danielricciardo

view 12,945 comments

username FINALLYY

username WHY DID SHE USE A DUCK EMOJI

⤷ yourusername they remind me of daniel.

⤷ username how so 💀

⤷ yourusername I am not permitted to talk about it

username so happy for you guys!

username in greek!! THATS ROMANCE

carlossainz55 finally did it I see

⤷ landonorris at least he no longer will say she’s his future wife, but just his wife

an; this is kinda of bad so I might end up re-writing this in the near future.

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[luveline]

hey pookie bear❤️❤️ i was wondering if u could do james x reader but enemies to lovers/one bed troupe, i can’t find enemies to lovers with james very often and my mind is craving it. thank you ily❤️❤️

hey!! ily tysm for requesting!!! —you and co-worker!james share a hotel room for the night. fem!reader, 1.5k

James Potter is the most insufferable, arrogant, suffocating boy you've ever met in your entire life, so when you hear you'll be sharing a room with him tonight, you shut down. Total icy silence. If he wants conversation, he can ring one of his irritating mates. 

It feels borderline illegal to have your workplace make you share a room considering, but you're adults, and the trip was supposedly all inclusive. Not even the most luxurious per diem could make this worth it, though. 

James lays in the middle of the bed, arms behind his head, skin awash by lamplight and hair a dark halo against the crisp white linens. He grins at you and you despise how handsome he is. Handsome, and such a fucking prick of a man. 

"Won't you join me?" he teases. 

You've kept your vow to ignore him until that point. "Please don't lie on my side of the bed." 

He moves over, looking startlingly apologetic. You'd believe he was repentant, but he asks, "What's the point? You'll be in my arms sooner or later." 

You nibble the inside of your lip. He agitates you, he irks you, but you know James is a good guy. His irritating mates are the same. When you joined the office, he made sure they all remembered to celebrate your birthday though it'd only been a few weeks. When you fell up the icy steps on the way in one morning, James didn't take the piss. He helped you up into the doorway and frowned at your bloody knees and ripped tights like they physically pained him.  

"Do you want to shower first?" you ask. 

"I shower in the mornings. Thank you. But I can strip down now if you'd like." 

"James, please," you say, rubbing your eyes. You'd usually have something much more biting to say, but you're tired. At the last second, you summon the energy. "No one wants to see that." 

He glares at you like he's remembered he doesn't like you. 

"Cruel." 

He leans over the edge of the bed and pulls a book out of his suitcase where it lays in arm's reach. 

"I didn't know you could read," you add. 

"Points off for awfulness. Put your jammies on, shortcake, I wanna see what you packed." 

He's being a creep to annoy you. It's working. You grab your pyjamas and a change of underwear and leave his presence to the small bathroom for a quick shower. You take your time to dry off. It's too big a wish to have him be sleeping when you emerge, and sure enough, he's wide awake but changed into his own pyjamas, plaid bottoms and a white t-shirt. 

"Now I know you're obsessed with me," he says, raising his eyebrows over the pages of his book. 

You cross your arms self consciously over your near identical pyjamas, the bathroom door closing behind you. 

James waits for you to put your dirty clothes in your suitcase before piping up again. "You look adorable." 

"Fuck off, please." 

He snorts and kicks the sheets down the length of the bed. Stretching with a groan that makes your stomach hurt, he puts his novel tented down on the nightstand. His glasses are next. He looks different without them but no less handsome. If anything, the eagle shape of his nose is more pronounced without them, as is the little pink scar on his cheek, stark against his brown skin. 

"You're an awful roommate," he says decisively, "you use all the hot water, you leave the windows open, as now you're ogling me. I feel rather objectified." 

You avert your eyes guiltily. "You might want to take your temperature. You likely have a fever, considering how delusional you're acting."

"Ooh, burn." 

Face hot with spite, you push back the sheets on your side of the bed and turn off your lamp. After a second, James turns off his. 

"You're not brushing your teeth?" you ask. Your voice lacks a specific bite, fatigue kicking in. 

"Did while you were in the bathroom." 

"What'd you do with the toothpaste spit?" 

"Swallowed it." 

You laugh. It sounds much too friendly, and you hate it. "You're disgusting," you mutter. 

You slide down flat on your back and pull the sheets over your legs and stomach, more than aware of his nearness and the heat of his body already waiting for you under the thin quilt. He smells nice, this close. Like deodorant, mint, but something else that snags your attention. 

You hate him so much sometimes —he steals your pens constantly from your desk, he never offers you a cup of coffee even when he's making them for everyone else, and he's lazy. He doesn't do his third of the finances on time. He nudges his desk into yours to make your small figurines fall over and calls it 'earthquake training'. They're fucking plastic. James Potter drives you up the goddamn wall, and being close to someone like this couldn't be more awkward. You're stiff as a board. 

"I was only kidding earlier," James says. He's quiet, but so is the room. He might as well yell. "I wouldn't lay a finger on you if you didn't want me to." 

"You gave me a snakebite three days ago." 

"I thought you had a bug on you," he says furiously, having had this argument already. "That's not the point. If you want me to sleep on the floor, I'll do that. I have no intention of making you uncomfortable." 

"You've already failed, then." 

He sighs. "I can go sleep on the floor in Sirius and Remus' room." 

"They wouldn't have you in the bed?" you joke lightly. They have a close friendship. It's nice, even though you might pretend they're a throuple whenever single girls visit the office to ruin his chances. 

"Oh, they probably would." 

"It's fine. Don't… don't bother. It's not a big deal for me if it isn't for you. I know you wouldn't try anything." 

"Yeah?" 

"Of course. You're a bitch, but I don't believe you're that kind." 

James laughs loudly, his chuckles shaking the mattress. You swear you can feel his eyes on your face, though the room is bathed in darkness and the strings of scarce red light blinking from the alarm clock. 

"Good. I'm not that kind of bitch," he agrees. 

"Well. Goodnight." 

"Yeah, goodnight, shortcake." 

You roll your eyes at his nickname. Whether your short or tall isn't his concern, James calls you shortcake because he's very tall, and he holds that against you often like a schoolyard tease, papers held out of reach, your figurines hidden in alcoves or on top of cabinets.

You turn onto your favoured side and try not to care that you're facing him. James falls asleep first, his breath slowing until a snore emerges, his weight dipping the cheap mattress. Combined with your own, you start to slide toward one another. 

Fucks sake, you think, edging back. 

Space reestablished between you, you close your eyes and try not to think about what he looks like when he sleeps. As you nod off, you feel the soft skin of a hand curling around your forearm. A quarter circle rubbed into your pulse. 

— 

James wakes first, and he is Oh so thankful. He isn't a pervert, he swears, he has no idea why he's curled around you like this. Hugging your arm to his chest like a teddy, his face curved downward, his nose pressed to your forehead, he wakes and he panics hard. 

You aren't touching him back. Sunlight filters in through shitty translucent blinds and kisses your unassuming face, your lashes lightened, your lips pointed down in sleep. He worries something's upsetting you while you doze. He bites his tongue. 

It's none of his business. None of his business why you're having a restless morning. 

James twists and lets your arm fall naturally back onto the sheets, squinting in the sun at the alarm clock. It's barely five AM. You needn't wake for another two hours but you will, if you keep frowning. 

James holds his breath. Carefully, he settles back onto his side facing you and cups your face. It feels too intimate, too much. He pulls his hand away after half of a second, opting to take your hand again instead. 

He's seen you cry before. Bloody hands and knees, humiliated and cold, you'd sniffled on the steps leading into the office and asked him not to tell anyone. Remus and Sirius know everything there is to know about James. His genuine but waning dislike for you, his budding crush. And yet, after pretty much a lifetime telling them every secret he'd ever come into contact with, James didn't tell them about that. He gave you the packet of tissues from his pocket, and he told you a lie about falling in the exact same place a year before you started working with them. 

The expression you gave him then is the same you wear now as he rubs the palm of your hand with his index fingers. You're comforted. Your unseen unhappiness abates.

James falls asleep like that, drawing shapes into your hand. 

—

i love him i want him to be my office frenemy. ty for reading!! pls reblog if u enjoyed it means so much to me!

[tinygrove]

Decent Man Pt.1

The second part

Pairing: Cregan Stark/fem!reader

Author's Note: I've decided to split this into 2 parts just to give myself a chance to work on the ending but I was eager to get something written. This is the first fanfiction I've wrote, or at least posted on this account so I hope it's not too bad.

Summary: You're newly wed to Lord Stark after having only been courted for barely a month. Although the anxieties of having to perform as a 'royal' wife start to eat at you, Cregan proves to be a decent husband.

You must have done it, how else would you be alone in his chambers. Blocking out all the noise and going through the motions would only get you so far. You couldn’t even remember the vows. Lord Stark had arranged for there to be no bedding ceremony, perhaps an act of mercy. You’ve heard some lords complain they simply want their lady wives all to themselves, untouched and unspoiled. You were neither. You weren’t sure if your Lord husband was either. 

You hadn’t learned much about him during your courting, not that it lasted long. Your father practically jumped at the opportunity for a stronger alliance to the most powerful house in the North. It must have appeased Lord Stark as well, seeing how quickly he’d agreed to the marriage, it had barely taken place a fortnight after you’d met. Now though, you were in his room, none to accompany you but your ladies in waiting. A few had come with you from your own keep, or rather your fathers. And one or two had been appointed to you since coming to Winterfell to stay. You could hardly form the words to tell them you could undress yourself. Maybe it was the cloak weighing you down, making it harder to breath the harsh winter air. You let it slip off your shoulders and yet you still feel heavy, a weight in your chest and a hard lump in your throat. 

Hearing the thick wooden door swing open and shut after heavy footfalls and quick scurrying of feet made the pit in your stomach sink even lower. “Are you well?” He asked, definitely due to your silent stewing. The whole night you’ve been lost in your own thoughts. 

“Yes, I am well, thank you.” You force a courteous smile to you face, although more brief and sour than you’d intended. You figure you’ll have to do a lot more of that in the coming years. “You do not look well.” Your not sure he says so in a demeaning way, more so that he’s seen through your flimsy facade. Or maybe he’s focused on the way your hands desperately seek purchase on your gown as your eyes start to brim with tears. You can’t control it when they start to spill. 

“There is no need for us to,” He gestures between you with a sigh, trying to supplement actions for words. “Consummate the marriage tonight, if you do not wish it.” He tries to search your eyes for any sort of answer but you avoid his gaze. “Did you hear-” 

“Let’s just get it over with.” You say, voice low and wavering with all it’s strength to keep it from cracking. Another stray tear falls down your cheek as you reach behind yourself for the laces of your gown but two large hands hold your arms still. 

“You truly think so little of me? That I would– Like I said, there is no need to consummate the marriage tonight.” He brings your arms out from behind your back, holding your chilled hands in his. His fingers and palms are calloused, yet his grip gentle. “I barely had a chance to court you before we wed, perhaps we might come to know each other before; that.” Your eyes flicker down to where his hands encompass yours, and he quickly recedes after catching on but strangely, you find yourself missing his warmth. 

As your eyes find his once more he continues. “I shall have a few ladies in your service prepare a chamber for you. I know you’ve not had space for your things but I assure you they’ve been taken care of. In the mean time though you’ll need to take your rest here.” He turns to make for the door and surprisingly a part of you longs for him to stay. The brief bit of kindness he’s shown to you is more than you can say for those that attended your wedding. Your father truly had not exaggerated the icy attitude of those in the North. Lord Stark however, to see his wintry exterior slowly melt away has made it almost impossible to detest him. “I will see you on the morrow, my lady.” He opens the door and a cold breeze comes over you, yet you don’t shiver, the cold only emboldens you. “Thank you, Lord Stark, for your kindness.” your voice is somewhat steady now, no longer fighting an imminent sob. He nods at your words, “Cregan will do just fine, my lady.” You’re alone now and the chill is gone. All the warmth radiating from the hearth is slowly becoming too much to bear even as it smolders to embers. The absence of your Lord husband leaves you feeling alone now, more than you’ve ever been.

[matchaskiiess]

DEVOTED. CL16

in which charles leclerc’s fans can’t get over how devoted he is to learning his girlfriend’s language.

warnings: idek. fluff? love?

AN — it’s been a bit, and I know it’s like already late into the year, but happy new year!!! this is a short one, but I just wanted to post something cause I am gonna be doing start my gsces next week and will only finish them towards the end of june. I am doing another turkish!reader but I wanna do other nationalities, so please tell me what you’d like to see. thank you xx and I hope you enjoy.

WHITE FERRARI (f1) NAVIGATION (main info centre)

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TO SAY YOU WERE SHOCKED was an understatement.

your boyfriend had made no indication that he was learning your home language, just like you made no indication that you were learning his.

“why didn’t you tell me you were learning it? I have to find out through twitter?” you asked, your voice filled with amusement as you sat across from charles.

“ok, for one, I wanted it to be a surprise so that I could communicate better with your family, and two, you didn’t tell me you were learning french.” he responded with a large smile on his face.

“alright let’s hear it, tell me a sentence.” you asked him, leaning back in your chair with a grin on your face as he let out a chuckle.

“sen benim hayatımın aşkısın ve seninle evlenmek için sabırsızlanıyorum.” charles said confidently, a smirk on his face as he looked at your reaction to his words. “you are the love of my life and I can’t wait to marry you.”

“baby, do you really mean that?” you asked, shocked at his statement and his perfect pronunciation. “tu veux vraiment t'épouser?” you asked shyly. “you really wanna marry me?”

“yes baby, of course. it’s why i am learning, so that i can communicate with you in a language you’re more comfortable with, and also so that I can talk to your family better.” he smiled, “and can I just say your french is very good.” he told you, taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles.

“thank you my love, and your turkish is so good, you pronounced everything so well.” you told him happily.

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liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 292,919,191 others

charlesleclerc yes I asked her in turkish and yes I asked her family’s blessing in turkish.

tagged; yourusername

view 10,821 comments

user HE ASKED FOR THE BLESSING IN TURKISH AND EVEN ASKED HER IN TURKISH OMGSGS

yourusername I still can’t believe you did it so perfectly!!

⤷ charlesleclerc anything for you

user them vows best be in french and turkish.

user i am so glad he finally asked, they’ve been dating for too long :)

danielricciardo congrats mate!

⤷ yourusername thanks uu

⤷ danielricciardo did he drop the ring?

⤷ yourusername yeah…

⤷ danielricciardo maxverstappen1 pay up

⤷ maxverstappen1 damn, really had belief in him not dropping it.

⤷ charlesleclerc you seriously made this a bet?

⤷ maxverstappen1 course

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[storiesfromafan]

Yule Ball

A/N: back with another story, haha. This little baby hit me hard. Also quite happy with how it turned out :)

Pairing: Mattheo x Fem!Reader

Summary: what happens when you wait to be asked by our favourite Slytherin, but he ends up taking another girl. So you go screw it, lets go stag.

                                                    Yule Ball



Hogwarts was abuzz with talk of the Yule Ball. Every girl was a fuss with picking the right dress and shoes, and how they would do their hair. Not to mention getting a date for the ball. Even your best friend Pansy was a flutter with it all! She of course was going with Draco, and had picked her dress to match him. Tedious, the whole thing, you thought. But it wasn’t a common thing. Nor was the Triwizard Tournament. The Yule Ball was at the end of the week, you had reluctantly picked the dress and shoes. But did not have a date, yet.



“What do you mean you don’t have an escort for the Ball!?” Pansy said in shock, during lunch.



You rolled your eyes. “It’s no big deal” you shrugged, pushing your food around your plate.



“Yes it is, you can’t go alone” Pansy retorted as Draco, Blaise and Mattheo joined the table.



“Who can’t go alone? To what?” Draco asked, starting to put food on his plate.



“Y/N/N, she doesn’t have an escort for the Yule Ball” answered Pansy.



“Really Y/L/N? Thought you’d have a line of suitors” laughed Draco.



You rolled your eyes. “It wouldn’t be that long, but there have been a few that asked...”



“And you rejected them? Why?” questioned Pansy, with a sharp look at you.



“Keeping my options open” you replied casually. Though you knew why you rejected them, secretly hoping a curtain Slytherin heart throb would ask you.



“If I was you, I wouldn’t reject anyone else. Because before you know it there won’t be anyone available” Mattheo said matter-of-factly.



You gave him a pointed look. “And do you have a date?”



He smiled brightly, “of course. I’m going with Anna”, he looked down the table to a pretty blonde in your year, who sat in front of you in Potions class.



You felt your stomach drop at his words, and felt a sharp pain in your chest when you looked at the girl in question. So much for Mattheo asking you to the Yule Ball. But you put on a brave face, smile and congratulated him. Told him you hope they have a good time. All the while every word that left your mouth left a bad taste in its wake. The conversation dropped off about the ball, and back to classes. You had a few more bites of your food before pushing it away, appetite lost.



“I’m going to head to Potions. See you there Pans” you said getting up and grabbing your bag, then leaving before Pansy or anyone could say anything.



“Is she alright?” asked Mattheo looking at Pansy with concern.



“Yes, I believe she is” Pansy lied. Even without her friend telling her, she knew you had a thing for Mattheo and no doubt hoped he’d have asked you to go to the Ball.



The walk to Potions felt longer than normal. Students around you are conversing and laughing. Not to mention the over hearing of students asking each other to the Yule Ball. You frowned and cursed the social event. Yes you were being petty, yes you were bitter. And to cement your dislike you vowed to not even go. It wasn’t worth your time. Not when you’d see Mattheo and Anna together.



You weren’t sure when you started to like your friend. But it was obvious to you once you saw him on the train back to Hogwarts at the start of the year. It hit you like the Hogwarts Express the first time he looked at you with his deep brown eyes, flashing you a bright smile. It caused your breath to catch, and stomach to flip. After that every little thing he did, or said a curtain way, had an effect on you. How you’ve managed to hold it together, and not show it, was a surprise to you.



The rest of the week leading up to the Yule Ball was suffocating. Not to mention turning you more bitter, as Anna had started to hang around your group to be closer to Mattheo. You would sit as far away from the pair as you could, preferably on the same side as them, so you wouldn’t have any direct eye line of them. Which meant you found yourself sitting in front of Theodore Nott and Lorenzo Berkshire. Two of Mattheo’s close friends. Though loyal to Mattheo, they had become fond of you, like a sister. They could see something was bothering you, but neither chose to bring it up with you. Instead doing all they could to distract you; deep or stupid conversations, jokes, pranks, etc. And you were grateful for it.



The day of the Yule Ball, students only had morning classes to attend. Which everyone, but you, were excited about. After those morning classes, and lunch in The Great Hall, all students were left to enjoy the afternoon before those in the higher classes would attend the Ball. You laid on your bed while Pansy and the other three girls of your room got ready. They fussed over each other's hair and make up, talking about what they hoped would happen tonight. Rolling onto your back, you looked up at the room's ceiling, glaring at how happy they were, excited to be going with the guys they wanted. While you would be staying in this room, bitter over the fact Anna would get your night.



Pansy took a moment to look over at you, she felt for you. “Y/N/N, why don’t you still go to the Ball? Who cares if you have a date or not!” She said hoping you would listen to her. “Besides, you brought a beautiful dress. It would be a shame not to wear it”.



“Yeah, Pansy is right!” A few of your roommates coursed together.



You rolled back onto your stomach, eyes focusing on the girls of the room. “I’ll pass, thanks. I will see if I can return it anyways”. Then you rolled back onto your back, and went back to glaring at the ceiling.



Pansy and the girls all shared a sullen look, before going back to getting ready, but in a more sober mood. You hated to be the killjoy, but this was a hard pill to swallow. You would have rather Mattheo had gone stag with Theodore and Lorenzo. And, though it would have stung, picked up a girl at the Ball. Or maybe he would have seen you finally, and realizing you were the girl for him. Unfortunately no luck there. So you will do your best to forget tonight, and all that will go down in The Great Hall. Then tomorrow you would remove yourself from all talk of the Yule Ball.



Once the girls were ready, they headed out and to the common room where students had made plans to hang out before the start of the Ball. Pansy was the last to leave the room. She had continued to try and talk you into going. Even offered to pop down to the common room and see if she could drum up a last minute escort for you. But you declined her offer, sticking to your stubborn guns.



Pansy sighed as she reached the room’s door, looking back at you as you read a book sitting on your bed. “I know you didn’t get asked by the person you wanted too. But you shouldn’t let the hurt win, you should go and have fun for yourself”. And with that Pansy left.



You didn’t look up from your book once during her words. But part of you knew she was right. Why should you let a guy consume you, dictate your evening. Part of your mind was screaming to get up, do your hair and make up, put on that dress you love and go have fun. Show Mattheo and every male student that you don’t need them! You are Y/N Y/L/N, and you don’t need anyone!



So with that spark of determination you got up off your bed, and the first thing you did was your makeup. You kept it fairly neutral; opting for a natural smoky eye with a hint of dark green, and slightly dark nude lip. Next you put your Y/H/C locks half up with a moon shape clip, some hair falling around and framing your face. After that you managed to get into the gown you had brought, love at first sight. It was an emerald green V-neck dress that had thin straps that tied up on the top of your shoulders. The bodice was embellished in different green crystals that also cascaded down in various lengths over the lace-up A-line skirt. The material of the dress is a mix of cotton, satin and tulle, making it airy and flowy, almost whimsical. After putting on your shoes, the last item you put on was the necklace Mattheo had given you for your birthday.



At first you were unsure of wearing the dainty silver two chain necklace, that each houses a star on the top chain and a moon on the lower. Staring at the simple but beautiful piece of jewellery, you thought wearing it would go against the passion lit in you to stick it to the male students. You felt it would be like wearing a ball and chain, weighing you down with the reminder of who you weren’t there with. But in the end you chose to wear the necklace. It suited you well, telling you Mattheo knew you. And that wasn’t all that you noticed him do for you. He was always opening doors for you, greeting you first in the morning, taking a seat next to you during meals, and taking you hand at merited or random times. Which is why you had been so sure of him asking you to the Yule Ball, and the chance he liked you as much as you liked him.



Taking one final look at yourself in the room's full mirror, you made last minute adjustments before lifting your head up high and began your trek to The Great Hall. Rising from the lower level of the school, you walked down halls littered with various paintings. Many of the painting’s residents said ‘hello’ as you passed, with a few commenting on how lovely you looked, which made you smile and thank them. With every step closer to The Great Hall you could feel your heart rate pick up, breathing becoming a tad harder with nerves. You came to the staircase before the first set of doors to The Great Hall, at the bottom you spotted your friends. It was now or never.



Lorenzo was the first to spot you at the top of the stairs, a bright smile crossing his face as he pointed you out to Theodore. Who said your name in question a little loud, catching Pansy and Draco’s attention. All three’s eyes followed Lorenzo’s to where you stood. Noticing them staring at you, you knew there was no going back now. So placing your hand on the railing, you started to descend the stairs with a soft smile on your face. Mattheo was confused as to why his friends were quiet, and looking behind him. Turning around he saw you coming down the stairs dressed in the perfect shade of green for you, you looked absolutely stunning. Sure, he would say you look beautiful everyday. But right this moment, you looked like a Goddess gracing Earth with your presence.



Coming to reside on the floor before your friends, Lorenzo and Theodore were the ones to move to your sides. They offered you compliments a plenty, which made you laugh nervously and tell them to stop. Pansy was the next to come over to you, so happy you had changed your mind, and how lovely you looked in your dress.



“You clean up nicely Y/L/N” Draco complimented, to which Pansy slapped his arm.



“Never say that to a lady” she said angrily. But then turned back to you, “what made you change your mind!?” She asked. “I didn’t expect you to change your mind, but I am so happy you did!”



You laughed at her words, both Mattheo and Anna coming over to join you all. “I decided I wasn’t going to let my lack of a date bring me down. No shame in going stag”.



Both Lorenzo and Theodore agreed with you. “No shame at all, both Enzo and I are stag” Theodore said with a bright smile. “You can join us!”



You laughed at the pair. “Both of you going stag doesn’t surprise me one bit”.



All the while bantered with his two close friends, Mattheo looked at you. He was mesmerized by how beautiful you looked. He felt like this was the first time he was seeing you, the real you. He liked how your eyes lit up with laughter, enjoyed the sound of your voice, and over all adored your presence. Soon you all began to make your way into The Great Hall; Draco and Pansy taking the lead arm in arm, followed by you on either arm of Lorenzo and Theodore, while Mattheo and Anna brought up the rear. You could feel eyes on the back of you as you walked, but soon you felt many eyes on you as you entered the large room. You took note of how winter wonderland The Great Hall looked.



After finding a spot off to the side, your group took to talking and laughing. You hadn't paid Mattheo or his date any mind, not really looking at them. Instead talking with Lorenzo and Theodore, which had been fun so far. Eventually the TriWizard champions entered the hall, and kicked off the dancing. You watched in delight at the twirling and lifting of the female’s. You sighed, wishing you were a part of the dancing. And as if reading your mind, both boy’s offered you their hand but then glared at the other. After a quick round of paper, scissors, rock; you were dragged by the winner Lorenzo to the dance floor. You joined Pansy and Draco moving around the room. You weren’t the best dancer, but Lorenzo was patient with you, leading you in the current formal dance, all while you both laughed and smiled. Once that dance was done, Theodore swooped in and stole you from his friend. He led you around in the dance, as Mattheo and Anna joined this time.



Theodore was commenting on the teacher’s who had taken to the dance floor. His words had you in stitches, while Mattheo glared at the both of you while dancing with his date. Seeing you dance with Lorenzo, and now Theodore, left him cursing them. How dare they take your attention for themselves. If they hadn’t been fussing over you, he would have had your attention. Anna complained when Mattheo had stepped on her foot, too distracted by his friend and you to pay attention to his dance partner. After that dance you and Theodore left the dance floor, and Mattheo went back to focusing on Anna as best he could, knowing you were out there somewhere. Any male students coming up and talking to you made his blood boil.



You found yourself alone, leaning against a stone wall after Theodore and Lorenzo went to work the room, aka hit on girls. Of course they weren’t going to leave you on your own, but you had told them to go, you’d be fine. So here you were, being a wallflower, watching those on the dance floor. Over time the formal music and dancing was replaced by the band Weird Sisters, and students jumping around and letting loose. By this point you noted Draco and Pansy sitting down by the dance floor, they were talking while Pansy rubbed his back. Your gaze then moved to the dance floor, you laughed softly at Fred and George jumping around like idiots, their date’s not too pleased. But the other bodies on the floor weren’t that different from the twins.



Then you spotted Mattheo and Anna; they were dancing away from the jumping crowd, probably so they wouldn’t get hurt or drawn in. Seeing them hurt, a lot. That bitterness slowly returning with every second you watched them. You felt the prickling of tears in the corner of your eyes. No, you weren’t going to let them win. You would not cry. Standing up straight you took a deep breath before releasing it. That was when Lorenzo and Theodore came back to you, both taking a spot on either side of you and leaning against the wall. Their eyes followed where you were looking and it was like a light bulb went off over both of them. You were upset with Mattheo for bringing Anna to the Ball, and no doubt you fancied their friend.



“What’s a pretty girl like yourself being a wallflower?” Theodore asked, turning his head to look at you.



“I’m not a wallflower” you retorted, looking Theodore in the eyes.



“Yes you are” Lorenzo said looking at you. “Standing by yourself, watching everyone else; definition of wallflower”.



“Not entirely correct” you replied with a sigh.



“Why are you alone? Any guy here would be dying to dance with a beauty like you” Theodore with a smirk.



“Doubt it” you said, hitting his arm. “Did you spike the punch? How much have you had to drink?”



Both boys laughed. “First off; yes just about every guy here wants to dance with you” Lorenzo said matter-of-factly.



“And second; we didn't spike the punch. Snape or McGonagall would know within five minutes” Theodore finished.



You looked between them with a raised eyebrow. “Then how have you been drinking?” You asked, skipping their notion of most males wanting to dance with you.



Both boys smiled all knowingly, before Theodore looked around making sure no Professor’s were around. He then proceeded to produce a silver flask. Cheeky sod’s, they were carrying. Theodore offered you a drink, which you thought screw it and took a few sips from, before returning the flask to him. A shocked look on your face at home the whisky went down, burning your throat. Both boys laughed at your reaction. Then Lorenzo offered you some of his, which had been vodka. Not good to mix the two liquors, but you were over caring. You needed to dull the thoughts in your head, and forget, even for the night, Mattheo and Anna.



“Come on wallflower” Lorenzo said, getting up from his leaning position. “Let’s go have some fun and dance the night away!”



Feeling the numbing sensation taking over, you stood. “Alright boys, let’s go!”



Lorenzo grabbed your hand and pulled you to the dance floor, Theodore right behind you both. Once on the dance floor you grasped the skirt of your dress and lifted it slightly as you moved around with both boys to the music. You let the music take over, feeling every note and moving to its rhythm. Lorenzo and Theodore moved along with you, all three of you singing and laughing, all the while jumping and turning. You let the alcohol and energy of dancing wash away your thoughts of the Slytherin you liked, and his date. You focused on letting loose, having fun with your two friends. Every now and then, you three would sneak drinks from the flask’s the boys were concealing, just adding fuel to the fire of total freedom.



While you had been talking to the boys against the wall, then drinking with them and now dancing, Mattheo had watched almost all of your three’s doings. And he didn’t like the influence his friends had on you. He could understand talking to you, and dancing with you, but not the alcohol consumption. That wasn’t very you. Sure, during house parties you would have a few drinks. But not straight liquor. Yet there you were before, doing just that. By this time Mattheo and Anna were sitting down with Pansy and Draco, taking a rest.



“Y/N/N looks to be having fun” Pansy said with a laugh. “I wasn’t sure about those two, but they are helping her tonight”.



“Ha. Why do you say that?” Draco asked, not entirely caring.



Pansy briefly looked at Mattheo before going back to her date. “Before I left our dorm she was so adamant on not coming tonight. I know she had hoped for a particular guy to ask her to the Ball”.



“That is sad they didn’t” Anna said with a frown. “But I’m glad she did come. And is having a good time” she then smiled after those words.



Pansy half smiled at the girl, not thrilled she was with Mattheo. “Yes, I am happy too. She didn’t need him to have a good time”.



Mattheo was silent during the conversation. Wondering who would be such an idiot to not ask you. Sure, he had considered asking you but then Anna came into the picture. And he had decided to ask her. He knew you wouldn’t have had any trouble getting a date. A few guy’s from the Slytherin Quidditch team had asked at different times if you had a date yet, and he said no. Even then, a small part of him didn’t like the idea of them taking you to the Ball. He chalked it up to being a protective friend. But now he knew why. He liked you. Plain and simple.



With all the dancing and drinking you were doing, it finally started to catch up to you. And you slowed down, while your company continued to dance, and take some well needed air. You felt your head swimming from the alcohol, but it was pleasant, you felt a little giddy. But your legs and arms were starting to ache from all the jumping, shimmying and twirling with Lorenzo and Theodore. Not to mention some of the students had called it a night, yet it didn’t stop the remaining students. Thinking it was time to call it quits, you were about to look for a particular curly haired brunette, before stopping yourself. Who cares where he was or what he was doing. You have had a good time tonight.



So with a content smile you let both Lorenzo and Theodore know you were going to head off to bed. They gave you overdramatic pleas to stay, but when you said it was bedtime, they fake cried making you laugh. Bidding them goodnight you held your head high before making your way from the dance floor. Pansy noticed you leave the dance floor, and when you both saw the other looking, you waved and mouthed goodnight. She got the message, and was fine with you going to bed. You deserved a good sleep after having a fun night.



Exiting The Great Hall you climbed up the stairs you had taken to get to the hall, before swaying slowly down the hallway, almost floating down with that content smile still on your lips. Letting go of Mattheo, and the alcohol you consumed, did you wonders tonight. For once you had fun for yourself. You didn’t think about others. Didn’t worry over what anyone would think. Didn’t let the rational side of your brain ruin your night with thoughts. You had successfully detached from who you were.



“Y/N!” Call the reality train, in the form of one Mattheo Riddle.



You sighed, stopping where you were. Not even turning around. “Yes?” You asked.



“Are you alright?” He asked, concerned.



Confused, you turned around to see the Slytherin boy a meter from you. “Peachy. Why?”



“You’re leaving the Ball early” Mattheo made an excuse, knowing you were probably tired and ready for bed. But he had to speak to you. After watching you the rest of the night with his friends, he needed to have time with you.



“Well Theo, this young lady is ready to go back to her room and turn into an ordinary, average girl” you said with a small laugh.



He looked at you confused. “You’re not ordinary, nor are you average Y/N/N. Fair from it actually”.



You laughed. “Yes I am Theo, it’s fine to say it”.



“No you’re not. You are an incredible person; smart, kind, fierce. And you know you are beautiful”.



“I do look quite good tonight” you stated, straightening out your skirt.



“No, you are beautiful everyday,” Mattheo said sincerely. “Are you upset because you didn’t have a date? Because the guy you hoped to ask you didn't?”



You looked Mattheo in the eyes, he was concerned but you could see something in his eyes that made you think he was being protective of you. “Not at all. Sure it sucked he didn’t ask me” you could feel the alcohol loosen your tongue and decided to go with it. “He even brought another girl, which hurt. But it is what it is”.



“He’s an idiot” Mattheo commented, as you moved to lean against the stone wall.



“Yeah. But I can’t blame him. He doesn’t know how I feel, or how I wanted him to ask me” you said in thought. “Maybe if I was more obvious he’d have caught on”, You looked at him with a sad smile.



Mattheo hated seeing that smile on your face, and how your eyes dulled. And he felt himself bringing up thoughts he had, not sure why though. “Maybe he is oblivious to something special. A dick move on his part”, he slowly moved closer to you.



You watched him closely, still fuelled by the liquor in your system you kept going. “Maybe it is. But, again, I never said anything. I assumed from the way he would open doors for me, or greet me first thing in the morning, or even hold my hand, that there was something”.



Mattheo nodded as he came to stand before you. “Well, taking that into account, he might have felt something. But he didn’t entirely know what it meant. If you are close though, he should have asked you”, he was confessing that he knew he should have asked you when he had thought too.



The next words out of your mouth sealed it for him. “Yes, you should have asked me”.



Staring into each other's eyes, Mattheo didn’t say another word. He leaned down and planted his lips upon your own. The kiss was slightly rough, but you still felt that spark. Both of you felt the butterflies in your stomach. Your hands reached out and grasped at his white dress shirt, while he leaned his left arm on the wall next to your head, bringing your bodies closer, his right hand cupping your cheek. Pulling back briefly you looked at each other and smiled. Mattheo then went back in for another kiss, this time deepening the kiss. It sent your mind reeling, and somewhat sobering you up. This was really happening, this moment you had daydreamed about was actually happening.



While you and Mattheo made out in the hallway, Lorenzo came up the stairs and turned down the hallway. He was looking for Mattheo, at the request of Anna. For the brunet had left her without much of a reason, and he had been gone for a while which made her worry. Looking upon the hallway in confusion, Lorenzo soon spotted two familiar figures. A smug smile soon formed on his lips after seeing the two snogging away in the hallway. Chuckling to himself he turned away from the pair, and headed back to The Great Hall.



“Guess Theodore and I have a young lady to console” he said to himself walking down the staircase and going back to what was left of the Ball.

A/N: as always, constructive feedback welcome. Also please see pocs of dress and necklace.

[lleldey]

The Broken Vow

Description: You met your husband when you were children, foolishly following the pull of first love. Nothing seemed impossible with him holding your hand; dreams and hopes at your fingertips. But when an accident happened, and you were left alone in this world, you learned how to rebuild it without him. Years later he’s back by your side, the only problem – he’s not too keen on having been replaced. It’s not your fault...right?

Warnings: manipulation, yandere, hospitals, divorce, mentions of death, angst, weight loss (not by MC), power corruption, self-condemnation. Please keep in mind this is a yandere story.

Word Count: ~13.5k

One-shot

!In no way of shape and form do I think this is how Jungkook acts in real life, this is pure work of fiction, so if you choose to read it, please keep that in mind!

Life is the biggest mystery of them all. You’ve promised yourself to never again take it for granted, yet now you wish the time to stop, and for you to disappear in it.

You don’t remember how you got here, the parking lot of the hospital seems eerily empty, the vacant lights illuminating the lone space. You rest your head against the seat and wish for whomever is upstairs to give you strength, you remember how you prayed years on end for this day to come, but now that it’s here, you’re at a loss of what to do.

Notifications from your phone light the car, and for the first time in hours, you pick up your muted phone and scroll through the countless messages and calls, some from unknown numbers, probably the medical staff, and some from people you tried your best to forget.

3.04 a.m.

You should’ve been here at least an hour ago, but the ride took almost twice as much as it should’ve. The speed of your car never nearing the limit, every yellow light stopped at, and every minute spent in silence. No music, no thoughts, just silence.

If it were to happen two years ago, you would’ve jumped in relief and happiness, thousand possibilities running through your mind, and body jittering in anticipation, but as you walk through the hospital door, you look around lost. Not sure where to go, not sure if you wish to go.

The reception stares right at you, and you know you should probably go there, but your legs mindlessly carry you to the waiting area. You sit down and look at the people around you, only a few give you company in the dead of night.

A woman sits in front of you, dried tears trace her face, as she clutches the hand of a man besides her. Probably her husband. You watch how he caresses her hand, while they mutter something under their breath, and fresh tears fall from her eyes. It looks like they’re praying. Should you be crying as well?

From your peripheral vision you see someone stand next to you, but you can’t hear what they’re saying, as you continue to watch the sorrowful woman in front of you.

“Mrs. Jeon?”

You play with the gold ring on your finger, the jewelry calms your mind, as you mindlessly twirl it around.

Cough sounds besides you, “Mrs. Jeon?”

Not so far along you were in her shoes, the memory still fresh in your mind. How you sat in the seat for hours, crying and hoping for God to take pity on you. But now you pity the woman; she doesn’t know that the seat she’s occupying will soon become her second home.

A hand on your shoulders breaks your trance, and you look up confused as the nurse once again asks, “Mrs. Jeon?”

Only now you realize she’s speaking to you, and you’re quick to start, “No, no, I’m not-” but you catch yourself, and swallow your words as the realization hits you. No one has addressed you in such way for years, and her words trigger a distant past.

The woman looks at you expectantly, but all you manage to do is stand up and barely nod your head, as memories from years ago plays out in your head.

She outstretches her hand, a light smile graces her tired face, “Mrs. Jeon, I’m your husbands’ doctor, we talked previously,” you shake her hand, only half-heartedly listening to her words, and silently follow her lead.

“Your husband has been asking for you, and dare I say he’s very persistent,” she chuckles, and you butt in, “He’s awake?” she must’ve seen panic travelling through your body, as your hands start to shake and suddenly your surroundings seem grounded, the sleep like state ripped away like a bandage.

“He awoke 2 hours ago,” you stop near a door, laughter resonating from it, and you swear, the voices seem eerily familiar, “your family is with him right now, but he keeps asking for you.”

“His family is here?” she nods her head, and you’re not sure if you can do this. They don’t want to see you, the last time you spoke, you made his mother cry, and his brother chose to ignore your existence.

You drag your hands down your face, you must look a mess, hair sticking every way possible, and the pajamas mixed with your sneakers surely doesn’t help. You feel the doctor’s hand on your shoulder and with a squeeze she points towards the closed door.

Before she leaves, you grab her hand and mutter the words that keep ringing in your head, “How is this possible? Everyone said there’s no hope if I had known...” your words slowly fade, as you watch her with tearful eyes, hoping she’d understand.

“Your husband was taken for his annual checkup, and we noticed some…” she stops and thinks of the correct words, “elements that shouldn’t be present with his condition.” You nod your head, clinging to her every word, hoping that you weren’t at fault for this.

“We did some additional tests, and they came back positive for minimal consciousness.” She holds your hands when your lips began to tremble, “And after your agreeance, we gave him course of amphetamine, and now here we are.”

Her smile should’ve calmed you, but shame manages to creep up your veins; how are you supposed to face him? If he’s been asking for you, surely, he doesn’t know anything. Or perhaps he does and wants to see you begging for forgiveness.

The doctors’ steps slowly fade away, and you’re left with the door glaring daggers into your soul. You try to remind yourself that these are good news, you’d hoped for years on end for this day to come, then why does what’s hidden behind the door scare you so much?

You hear the voices of his family members through the walls, voices from people you used to call your own family. You haven’t talked to them for two years, even if some of them tried to reach out to you.

The room feels suffocating even through the door, you envision their judging stares, and harsh whispers. You lay your head against the door and try to calm yourself. Perhaps they won’t let you in, chase you away even before you step a foot in. But through the war in your head, you hear a soft voice, such a delicate voice you think your mind made it up.

Tears spring to your eyes, as you realize it’s truly him; ever since the doctor called you, all you could think of was his family, the possibility of him being awake seemed so unimaginable, that you didn’t dare to hope.

His voice calls you like a melody, the soft hums you longed to hear for one last time. Gently you open the door, and the room falls silent, distasteful looks thrown at you from every corner. Slowly you step in, still keeping the door open, you wrap your hands around your body when you notice how elegant everyone looks.

What else could you expect from the Jeons? Makeup in the middle of night, suits and silk dresses are a norm, you should know, this was your life not so long ago. You try to soothe down your hair, while stuttering, “H-Hello,” you don’t await a response, and feel yourself caving in further, the dark gazes you expected are overpowering, and you’re close to running out of the room.

“Can I come in?” you try, you truly try to make this less awkward, but you hear your voice quivering, and their heated stares make you turn to the door, longing for a breath of air.

Before you manage to run out of the confined space, Jungkooks’ mom steps up, and approaches you, “Child, I’m so happy to see you,” she grabs your hands, and you manage to smile back, at least someone in this room doesn’t hate you.

Your relief is short lived, as a man’s voice comments from the front of the bed, “Took her long enough” Your gaze drifts to him, as Jungkooks mother scolds him, and you hear a familiar voice, hidden between the sea of people, disapprove as well, “Jin, don’t speak to her like that.”

Your breath hitches, and you try to look past the bodies hiding him from your view. Involuntarily your lips start to tremble, all you manage to decipher is his raven black hair and hand that tries to shoo his family away from blocking you, but that is enough for tears to trace down your cheeks.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, and your gaze snaps back to his mom, and her sympathizing smile makes your tears fall down quicker, “All right everyone, let’s head out, and give them some space.”

You start to protest, as much as you wish to see him, you’re also afraid. You don’t know how much he knows, but your hands tremble from the idea of seeing him for the first time in years. Jungkooks mom stops you before you manage to say a word, “You’ve some explaining to do, and we must start preparing for court.”

Your eyes snap to her, and with furrowed brows you mutter, “You’re suing them?”, and the room fills with arrogant chuckles, “They took my baby away for years, of course we’ll sue those incompetent doctors.” She states while longingly looking towards the hidden bed.

Jin shoots you a grimace and mutters as he passes you by, “That’s the least we can do, they don’t deserve their certificate. Those doctors should not be allowed to step near a patient ever again.” He stops by the door and looks you over, suddenly your shoes seem like the most interesting thing in the world.

“They should know what happens when you mess with Jeons.” His words feel directed not only to the poor professionals. They should know indeed, and if they don’t, then they’ll have to learn the hard way. That much you can say from your own experience.

Jungkooks mom stands besides Jin, and pats his cheek while muttering, “You’re right son, now that both my babies are back, they’ll see why you don’t mess with attorneys.” You choose to stay quiet; they can barely stand your existence as it is, you doubt that they would overlook you going against them again.

Silence entails once more, as everyone leaves the room, you don’t miss how they keep a great distance passing you by, as if the mere presence of you disgusts them. But this was to be expected, and you stand still, not looking up till you hear the door close.

It takes a good minute for you to gather yourself and look up, but when you see him lying in the bed awake, looking at you with the love filled smile he used to give you, the barely patched up walls of your heart break, and you cover your mouth to silence the sob that wrecks your body.

Your feet carry you closer to him, and you stand by the bed, body shaking and tears falling. His hand reaches out to you, trying to comfort your restless mind, and you throw yourself in his embrace, the soft huff and chuckle rumbling his chest.

His heart beats against your own, and you pull him closer, not fully believing that you’re not dreaming. Hidden in his chest you whisper, “Is this real?”, but the hand that caresses your hair confirms your suspicion, this is real.

The countless years spent lying on his chest, praying that one day he awakens and embraces you like he used to leaves a bitter taste on your tongue, and you pull away just enough to see his bright eyes and gentle smile, and fall back into his chest, cherishing the moment at hand.

He leaves soft kisses on your head, and you let tears fall freely on his hospital gown, you forgot how warm his skin is, how comforting his touch is, the lonesome years left you with nothing but the far memory of it.

“Has it truly been seven years?” his voice sounds scratchy, his vocal cords vulnerable from all the years spent in silence. You raise your head to look at him, tears still falling, and caress his face noting the beard that has taken its place.

You nod your head and shakily mutter, “Almost eight”, to be precise seven years and two hundred and fifty-seven days of him laying motionless, unaware of his surroundings and your breaking heart. Jungkook heaves a sigh, and you lean into his touch, relishing his warm hand drawing patterns over your cheek.

He carefully examens your face, taking into account every detail and new wrinkle, “You look-”, playfully you groan, and sniffle, “Old? Like a train wreck?” to which he chuckles, and you can’t help yourself but do the same, you haven’t heard his laugh in so long, the sound almost hypnotizing.

“I was going to say beautiful,” you shake your head at his teasing grin, “God truly took his time on you, age suits you well. I just wish I was here to see it; it feels like only a day has passed, yet everything has changed.”

Your smile slowly fades, oh, he has no idea how much everything has changed, but you don’t wish to break his heart, so you opt to cheer up the dampening mood, “And you look like a cave man”

You brush your fingertips against his beard, something he used to keep track of to never grow out. His hair is also noticeably longer, brushing past his shoulders. You used to be the one who cut it, and shaved his face, but you haven’t been here for almost two years.

His hand moves to your chin, and your heart stutters; even though years have passed, he still acts like the man you loved, bringing you closer by your chin to kiss you. Now quickly realizing his motive, you back away and mutter, “We should probably do something about it, there must be shaving cream somewhere nearby”

If he notices the distance you created, he chooses to ignore it, a light furrow of his brows all is seen, before it morphs into a smile once more, “And here I thought you promised to love me for better or worse, even when I turn into a cave man”

Your heart sinks at his words, even though they are true, you’ve no clue how to even start to explain how you broke your vows, crumbled them like a piece of paper. You start to get up in search of a nurse, but Jungkook quickly stops you and presses a button, to which one quickly comes in and leaves in search of Jungkooks demand.

You sit back in a chair and enjoy his silent company while you wait for her to come back, seeing him conscious, breathing and back to his normal self is more than you could’ve asked for, and you can’t stop the tears that grace your waterline.

“I felt like I was going insane while waiting for you. Jin said you moved to another city...?” his questioning gaze looks over your features, and you distantly hum, when the nurse comes back and leaves a small bowl of water, razor, and some shaving cream.

Gently you start applying the cream on his face, and you feel his eyes burning, trying to catch your gaze. Continuing your work, you start to explain, careful with your wording, as the subject entails more than you wish to tell, “It was hard being there alone. But I didn’t sell it if you’re worried about that”

Understandingly he nods his head, and you cup his chin while gently scolding him for moving, afraid to accidentally cut his skin. You see his muscles morph into a smile, and you stop your movements, and look him in the eye as you shake your head with a smile of your own.

You lead the razor gently over the white foam and see glimpse of his youthful skin hidden behind it, “I can’t wait to go back home with you, these hospital beds will give me a backache like no other. Our bed is far more comfortable, not to mention you, who’s the softest pillow to exist.”

You press your lips together, and tightly smile; silence might be the best answer for now. You let his dreams carry on, couple of years ago you would’ve fallen into them with him, but now, you know you can’t afford to do so.

But the sparkles that coat his eyes are too bright and tender for you to extinguish, yes, you are selfish, you allow yourself to live in the fantasy-esque world that Jungkook desperately tries to pull you in, even just for a moment. You lost him for so long, barely found a footing in this world alone, but now that he’s here, the idea of losing him again hurts more than words could entail.

Jungkook is no fool, he sees that something is amiss. Your tense body, and pursed lips tell him that much. He tries to be gentle, it’s understandable that you’re confused, after all almost 8 years have passed. But it irks him when you refuse his touch, doing so seamlessly, that one might not even notice.

But someone isn’t Jungkook, he’s your husband, and has been your lover for six years before the accident. The past few hours have been dubious; at first everyone was elated, tears filled the room as more and more people came in.

But with each time the door opened his patience tinned out, they weren’t you, and as much as he was grateful to see everyone, the one he truly longed for wasn’t there. He tried to calm himself, he knew that you’re well and somewhere nearby, as the doctor said they talked to you, but every time he brought you up, the room turned silent, anxious looks passed by everyone present, till they ended the subject with, hopefully she’ll be here soon, and you’ll understand everything.

Now, what was ‘hopefully’ supposed to mean?

“I’m sorry about Jin, I don’t know what came over him” he starts, carefully observing your movements, but you tick your head, and forcefully shake the razor in the bowl. “He’s your brother, he was only looking out for you.”

“But you have great relationship, he shouldn’t speak to you like that” the sad smile that graces your lips makes him even more confused, “We did. But after you-” you sigh and drop the razor in the bowl, and grab a towel, softly wipe the residue off his skin “A lot has changed, I had a falling out with your family”

You focus all your attention on patting his skin dry, but his hand stops yours, and when you look up you see the light panic clouding his eyes, “How is that possible? Is it because of the accident?” you shush his rambling, and smile while caressing his jaw, “Don’t worry about it, at least now you’re no longer a cave man.”

He huffs, but you don’t pay it any attention, just appreciate his smooth skin that seems radiant in comparison to the last time, when you said your goodbyes to him. You allow him to play with your fingers, and don’t even notice when he pulls your hand closer to his face.

“Why are your fingertips cut? Do they hurt? Your skin isn’t as smooth as it usually is…” you laugh at his zeroed-in attention on your fingers, and with adoration explain, “I’m used to it, I work as a hairdresser now, and every once in a while, help out in a farm”

His facial expression is one for the books, he starts to sit up, and anxiously you try to stop him, but he stubbornly ignores your protests while cradling your hand to his heart, “What the hell did I miss? A hairdresser? But what about photography, it’s your dream!”

You nibble on your lip, while trying to think of a way to calm him down, this much stress surely isn’t good for his body, “Photography doesn’t pay the bills. I couldn’t stay here, Kook. I moved out and this was my only option.”

As much as you try to soothe him, your words go amiss, he shakes his head, thousand thoughts travelling through it, “I don’t get it, you had my trust fund, you shouldn’t have to worry about bills”

He tries to understand, he truly does, but something doesn’t add up, and it keep him on the edge. You move closer to him, and sit on the bed next to him, hoping that it would ease his mind, “They cut me off,” before Jungkook starts to panic, you continue, “we got into an argument, and that was my decision, I stand by it.”

Jungkook shakes his head and opens his mouth, but nothing comes from it. You watch how he falls back onto the pillows with a frustrated sigh, “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now, and I’ll handle it. I should’ve taken care of you, and I failed.”

You shake your head, “Don’t say that. Just promise to never again touch a motorcycle in your life.” He takes your hands in his own and presses kisses all over while repeatedly mumbling, “I’m sorry”

“It must’ve been so hard for you. I’ll get discharged, and we’ll move back into our own place, everything will be back to normal. You won’t have to worry about a single thing.”

Nothing will ever be the same, but he’s clueless. Your heart clenches as you realize you have to tell him the truth. He’s living in the idyllic life you created years ago, oblivious of how broken it now is. You have to tell him.

You straighten you back and ready yourself for what’s to come, “Jungkook, I-” But before you manage, he stops you

“What’s that?”

You follow his gaze, and your breath hitches. “That’s my ring, Jungkook.” His grip tightens around your fingers, and very slowly grits out, “That is not our wedding ring”

His gaze travels to your own and noticing the tears clouding your gaze his eyes narrow, “No, it’s not. But it is my wedding ring.”

Silence overtakes the room, but his eyes don’t stray from you, unblinking, frozen, trying to make sense of what you’ve told. “You cannot remarry when you’re already married. To me, might I add.” He articulates every word slowly, as if speaking to a child, and you shake your head and somewhat shamefully mutter, “We’ve been divorced for almost three years”

His neck slowly turns red, and his muscles are strained, veins popping out of his neck and forehead. You feel the doom coming, and you try to make him understand, “Jungkook, please understand. You were basically dead, and I waited for years but I-”

“What the fuck do you mean you’re married to someone else” his voice raises, and you feel the words vibrate through your body, “Jungkook,” is all you manage to whimper.

“You are my wife,” he hits his chest, “My wife, what are you even talking about?!” at this point he’s screaming, and you try to shush him to no avail.

His words become distant, once you see tears streaming down his cheeks. His hand is wailing around, neck strained and face red, and forcefully he pulls you closer by the hand he’s still gripping with full force.

You don’t hear the nurses running in, your eyes zeroed on his enraged state, he tries to push them away, and you force your hand out of his, to try and move away. But your actions don’t go unnoticed, as Jungkook close to lunges toward you.

Everything becomes white noise, and you see everyone screaming, nurses barely able to hold him back from you. He fights against their grip, but his body is frail, and the pool of workers press his body down, all while he scratches, screams and throws pillows every way possible.

Distinctly you hear one of them scream about sedating him, and your body finds the last bit of strength to run out of the room. But you don’t get far, as just outside you bump into his doctor, the poor woman looking over your shoulder astonished, as everything progresses downhill.

You hear him scream your name time after time, but you look at the woman in front of you, and cry out, “I can’t be here, take me off his medical proxy,” You’re out of breath, and you try to mutter a legitimate sentence over your cries, “Ask his brother, anyone, just please-” your words fade, and the woman stares at you in shock, but Jungkook keeps calling your name, and you can’t bear to hear his broken cries. He sounds like a wounded animal, and the sound chills you to the bone.

You push past her and run towards the exit, from your peripheral vision you see his family crowded around the hall, but you don’t stop, even when you hear their voices mixed with Jungkooks shouting after you. You have to get out of here.

Your body moves on its own accord, and perhaps your stressed mind is playing games with you, but you feel someone running after you. Jungkooks cries echo through your mind even when you find yourself in the parking lot, hands shaking, trying to unlock your car.

With trembling hands, you try to ignite the engine, but it won’t start up, frustrated, you hit the steering wheel with your palms, and pray that this isn’t the time your car decides to give up. With a look to the hospitals entrance, you see a dark silhouette running out, you were right, someone was indeed chasing after you.

Praying that they won’t notice you, you sink into the seat, and try to start up your car once more, it takes couple of seconds, but when it does you heave a sigh, and see that the person noticed you only now, headlights turning you in.

You don’t wait to find out who it is, or what they want from you, swiftly you press the gas pedal, and rush back home.

04.46 a.m.

If the road to the hospital took you almost three hours, now you don’t care if you’re speeding, only thing you wish for is to be in your husbands’ arms and cry your heart out. Yes, perhaps you missed a couple of red lights, but you’re too far gone, lost in the labyrinth of your mind to care.

06.10 a.m.

The edges of the clouds shine in golden sparkles, and the darkness slowly dissipates, as sun makes itself known. You drive through the depths of forest green, the car wobbles on the bumpy road, but you feel the end of your misery, as you see glimpse of your home in the distance.

Your body feels frozen, every action robotic, your goal the only thing in mind. You stop the car near the entrance of your home, the stone walls of the house seem lament, and you step out of the car, finally able to take a deep breath.

The door opens, and the gray monotone vanishes, once you see your husband. He looks visibly nervous, but he tries to smile to ease your mind. “How did it go?” his hair is disheveled, and eyes drowsy, it looks like he couldn’t sleep, anxiously waiting for you to come back.

You take a deep breath, and ready yourself to explain how horribly everything transcribed, but all you manage is to whimper “Tae,” before you run into his warm embrace, and let the dam of tears loose.

He caresses your head, and rocks you from side to side, you’re not sure how long you spend like this, you, hyperventilating on his chest, and him, embracing you in his warmth, trying to hold his own tears in. But when you calm down, and look up, the sky is baby blue, sun rays blinding you.

~

Some say you can’t avoid things you don’t want to deal with, but you're determined to prove them wrong.

For the past week, you’ve buried yourself in work, either at the hair salon, or, more so, helping Tae with farm work. Now more than ever you relish his company, his touch and gleaming smile helps you forget about everything else.

But with ignorance comes sloppiness. You can’t count the number of times you’ve accidentally cut your fingers, while trimming someone’s hair, or daydreamed while coloring hair, only for the end result being a two shades different color.

On top of that, Tae’s farm has gotten multiple complaints, so it made sense for you to clock out of work to help him. You’re applying the last bit of color on clients’ roots, every once in a while, humming along her story that, if you remember correctly, is of how her son drove her car in a ditch.

You make sure the color is blended in evenly when your phone rings. After the events in the hospital, your phone was flooded with messages, and the constant ringing was too much for both you and the phone, as it continued to glitch out.

You contemplated the idea of changing your number, but the next day complaints started coming in, and you decided that this isn’t the best time, both financially, and in case someone needs to reach out to you about that. And even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself, somewhere deep down you knew that won’t stop him. But Taehyung advised you to mute everyone’s notifications except for his, and so far, the proposal has worked perfectly.

Quickly you apologize to the woman, and pull off one of the gloves, while answering the phone, “Hi, honey. I’m working, is everything all right?”

His voice comes out rushed, and your smile fades, as you try to understand what he’s saying, “Can you slow down please, I can’t hear you”

He takes a deep breath and this time you manage to hear what he’s rambling, “Okey, I’ll be there soon, we’ll figure something out.” The line disconnects, and you curse under your breath, this isn’t good.

Moving into action, you grab your things, and turn towards one of your colleagues, while packing “Can you please take over my client? I have an emergency, and all that’s left is to wash her hair and style it” you ramble and look at her with puppy eyes.

“Which time is it this week? You can’t drop all of your clients on me” you clasp your hands together, and do your best to give her puppy eyes, but she rolls her eyes.

“I know, but it’s very urgent. Tae’s about to get sued, and he needs me”

She looks at you with a pitying gaze, “This one last time. Next time please remember that I also have a family to go back home to”

Quickly you kiss her cheek and turn to the exit, but you should’ve known that it won’t be this easy. Red fury, or rather, your boss stands at the aisle with a disapproving gaze. Before she starts to protest you butt in, “I know I’ve been distracted, but it’s truly an emergency. I promise once this is over, I’ll take double shifts, but please understand”

She looks nonchalant, and somehow you think that’s worse. She doesn’t scream, or scold you, but simply shakes her head, already given up, “Go,” quickly you thank her, but before you manage to exit, she notes over her shoulder,

“You haven’t been clocking in the hours. If this continues, I won’t have another option but to fire you.”

One foot out of the door you stop, at this point this job is your only income, but you make your decision, as your rush towards the car.

You try to convince yourself that there’s no other option, your husband needs you. You’ve already broken your previous vows, and sure as hell won’t do that again. After all you promised, for better and for worse.

One good thing about living in a village, everything is reachable in spam of minutes. But as you speed down the road, the idyllic ambience and joyous people make you feel like you’re suffocating.

This was never what you wanted, you enjoyed the bustling crowds and big cities dreams, but then the ground disappeared under your feet, and you were left all alone, lost, with no one there to ground you.

But then you met Taehyung, and he gave you another chance in life, even if it was the furthest thing from your reality. You could be the friendly neighbor who talks about her children morning-night. It never was your dream, but it is enough, because you have him.

You rush out of the car in search of him, for once thankful of your small home, as you quickly find him in the living room buried in scattered documents and disheveled hair. Once he notices your presence, he lifts his head up, and you kneel in between his legs to wipe his tears.

“What’s going on, Tae?” he shakes his head, and tries to calm himself. “They are suing me, and I don’t know what to do.”

When you left for work, things weren’t great, but they weren’t necessarily bad. You thought that this was another situation that would pass with time, but now you’re stuck, how could everything change so drastically in a few days?

“A little girl is lying in hospital because of me,” you shudder a breath and quickly stop him, “This isn’t your fault-”, he interrupts you, “But it is! I changed the supplier for a cheaper one, all the complaints, their health is on me!”

It doesn’t add up. He changed it two months ago, why are there problems all of a sudden? You watch his devastated face expression, at a loss of what to do to make everything better.

“Now, I have to compensate costumers, pay the workers, and find attorneys. I’ve already stopped all production, but I can’t fire everyone, they depend on me. I can’t believe I’ve ruined my family’s business.” He shakes his head, and you draw patters over his knee, not sure what to say, just listening.

“And I have no clue where to find resources for everything. I’ve already paid out most of our savings, and it’s just been a week. I don’t know what to do with court, you know how hard it’s to get attorneys.”

A thought strikes you, a possible solution to this whole thing. But you shake your head, as you realize what that would take out of you, you’re not sure if it would serve for better or worse. You rest your head against his knees, and think over the possibilities; you’re the last person he wants to see, you’re sure of that, but do you have a different solution?

But his screams still echo through your head, and you’re not sure if you can go through it again. But you have to try, for Tae.

“I might have a solution for that.” Confused he searches your eyes, and realization dawns upon him. Taehyung quickly gets up and starts pacing around the room. “I’m not putting you through that.”

“He’s our only option. There’s a reason why they’re the best attorneys in country. Worst case scenario, he can give us contacts or dismiss all together.” You don’t voice out the thought that he could indeed do worse, you’re not sure of his emotional state, but judging by the last time when multiple nurses had to hold him back from you, you’re going in blind. And honestly, you don’t blame him, you are at fault for his misery.  

“Alright, but I’m coming with you.” A humorless laugh escapes you, “No, you’re not. He might be unwell, but if he sees you, rage will consume him. You didn’t see what I saw, he doesn’t want to see me honey, let alone you.”

Silence consumes the room, and you know that it’s agreed upon. You have to do this for Tae, and you know you’ve to talk to Jungkook. As much as you’d like to pretend the past 20+ years of your life didn’t happen, you can’t do that. You love him, but you can’t afford to do anything about it. You’re divorced, and that was your doing.

Turns out you can’t hide from things you don’t want to deal with.

~

You’re not sure if this is the right call; it’s been 5 minutes of you standing frozen in front of the door of a place you once called home. Not a single thing has changed, even the doorman recognized you, never mind that years have passed.

You calm yourself (rather try to convince yourself) that everything’s all right. You hoped that Jungkook would deny your request of meeting up, or rather not pick up the phone in general, but he answered on the first beep of the call.

The conversation wasn’t pleasant - even awkward - no pleasantries exchanged. You take a deep breath remembering the lone sentence he muttered during the phone call, “Are you coming back?”

Seeing him brought up memories and feelings you did your best to burry, most prominent one – guilt. You remember the incident at the hospital; how hard you tried to pretend as if nothing has changed, till the truth came out, and you saw his desperate eyes pleading for it to not be true.

Guilt you felt that moment was consuming, you knew that it’s your fault, so you ran. But somehow that didn’t help, only amplified the gut-wrenching pain of leaving the one you love behind, in pain and hurt.

But you comforted yourself with the knowledge he has a crowd of people by his side – they can patch up the tear you made. He doesn’t need you.

And as pathetic as it is, you’re afraid of stepping into the apartment. Isn’t it ironic, you’re the one who’s hurting him, yet you’re afraid of how you’ll feel. Selfishness at its best.

Straightening your back, you knock on the door, silence greets you, and after good 30 seconds you try again. When nothing happens, you try the door handle – it’s unlocked.

Door opens and the comforting smell of your home envelopes you, even if no one occupied it, somehow, it’s still drowning in the smell you seeked comfort in – your washed-out scent mixed with Jungkooks.

Slowly stepping in, you shudder a breath; you’re transported back 7 years ago, the creamy walls and coat racks filled with both of your jackets, messily thrown out shoes in the hall, and photography’s of your small family decorating the walls.

You close your eyes and envision Jungkook coming behind you to help you shrug off the coat, and give you a kiss on the cheek, while hugging you from behind. Just like he always did. The memory seems so tangible yet so far away.

But you open your eyes to the vacant hall, dust particles coting the furniture. Cold seeps under your skin, and you remind yourself of reality. Calling out Jungkooks name is useless, as silence welcomes your nervous state, but your body leads you to the living room, sort of déjà vu coaxing you to go there.

And just like you thought, he’s there. Overlooking the cities horizon, standing still besides the window, even when you address him.

“How are you?” you try to start a conversation and move closer and sit at the couch far enough from his reach, yet close enough to see his stiff body. But his back is turned to you, and he doesn’t give you the least bit of attention. “Door was unlocked, hope you don’t mind me barging into your home…”

“Our home” he’s quick to interrupt, awkwardly you shift weight from foot to foot, “Well, I’m glad you’re alright-” his hollow laugh makes you pause, not sure what to do. His emotions far too intense to what you’re used to, his aggravated scoff makes you sink in with guilt, the gentle mannerism he always bestowed hidden behind waves of betrayal.

Now looking at him through the reflection of the window, you can see he is not the man you’ve known and cherished dear to your heart. His body looks frail, you’re afraid that a stronger breeze of wind will make him break.

But still, your heart cries out for the past. And if it didn’t feel real beforehand, now it does.

He is wearing the sweatpants you bought him years ago, when you first moved into your apartment and decided to paint the walls yourself, you can still see washed out splotches of blue and white on them. Only now the pants are way too big for him, barely hanging on his hips, threatening to fall off any second. His shirt swallows his whole body, pitifully hanging from his shoulders, with no muscles or fat to cling on to.

“You left me. You threw me out the first chance I wasn’t of value to you anymore.” His words hurt you more than imaginable, and as much as you know that’s not the truth, you let him talk. You deserve to hear what you have done.

“And now I have nothing. No job, no home, no purpose, no-” his breath shutters before he whispers, “no one to come back to.”

“All I have is money and this empty space. Space that we built for our family.” He shakes his head, still not looking at you.

“Before you chose to exchange it for that low-life.”

You know what you have done is immoral, but your husband has done no wrong, only nothing less than hold you through these last horrid years.

“Jungkook stop. Please, don’t mix him into this, you know nothing about him-”

He turns to you, and you realize you mistook his anger for pain. His face is scrunched up, brows furrowed and eyes hollow with undeniable rage. You don’t recognize the person in front of you, the soft eyes you longed to gaze at one last time are long gone. And you can’t blame anyone else, but yourself.

He looks older, the dark circles beneath his eyes undeniable, the wrinkle that seems to be taken place in between his brows. And the sharp cheekbones that pinch through his skin. He looks unhealthy, his skin colored in yellowish tone.

“Don’t I? Aren’t you here because he lost his job? Because his dirty secret has come clean, and no one wants to be associated with him?” He steps closer to you.

“Because you want to beg me, your husband to take a pity of your side dick, and give him a job?” As he progresses towards you, you’re able to see how his body trembles, and at this point you don’t know if it’s due to his rage or unwell body.

“He’s not able to take care of himself, let alone you.”

“Am I wrong?”

Looking at his disheveled body, you know you can’t lie to him. You’ve done things you promised to never do in your vows. You hurt him, and you left him. And that’s the greatest pain one can cause another.

But you’re left confused. He knows. But how does he know? Has he been keeping tabs on you?

“Jungkook. Do you have any part in this?” You’re afraid to ask, the answer already looming in his previous words.

“And here I was hoping that my wife still cares for me. That she came to visit me, her husband, who has been almost dead for years.” He shakes his head with a scoff, and you look away.

“But no, she’s more worried about her affair. She doesn’t even care.”

“You know that’s not true.” You bite back your tears. There’s nothing you can say to make it better. You play with your fingers in your lap, too ashamed to look at him.

“Isn’t it? Because I’m here, waiting for you to turn up. And my wife isn’t even bothered to show when I’m being discharged. My wife doesn’t even care I wish I’d be dead, then live with the knowledge that she’s sleeping in someone else’s arms, living the perfect life we promised each other.” His voice breaks, but you still refuse to look at him. He’s crying, breaking down in front of you, and he has every right to do so, because you betrayed him.

Silence drags on, you, not able to look him in the eye, while he shakily breathes out, trying to stabilize his breaking heart. Pacify himself from the reality he’s welcomed to.

“But you know, I’m not sad. I’m angry.”

“I thought about killing your boy toy.” Frightened, you look up, “You know we have contacts for that, hundreds of them lining my phone, hoping we’ll help them in exchange for a favor. But then I thought, what a great feeling it would be to dig my nails through his skin, watch as the life trickles out of him, and smile, when his blood drowns my skin.” You rush to him, hoping to awaken him from his dulled thoughts.

But as you stand in front of him, you’re afraid to touch him, and the thought drives the knife in your heart deeper. You’re afraid to touch the man you promised to love for eternity. The man your heart yearned for years.

“And I want you to feel every bit as I do. I want you to hurt, the same way I do. I want you to see the world crumble beneath your feet and know that there’s nothing you can do about it.” His overbearing frame casts shadow over your form, and you mingle your hands together, trying to stay strong.

“But then I realized, that would be too easy. And you wouldn’t get your lesson. As it turns out, you still don’t know that wife doesn’t disobey her husband.”

“I have always been there for you. And now, you will see what it means, when I stop taking care of you. Because now, you can’t do anything, and I can do everything.”

The promise in his eyes scars you, but when you see the first tear trickling down his cheeks, when you see the hurt you bestowed upon him, nothing else matters except for him.

You watch how he starts to hyperventilate; his body shakes uncontrollably and his face pales. And the moment his knees buckle, your haze is broken, and you catch him in your arms. Panic overtakes every nerve in your body, and you call out for him, only to feel his tears on your shoulder.

You try to move his face towards yours, but he stubbornly shakes his head, hiding in the crook of your neck. “Jungkook, honey,” your voice trembles, “we have to get you to the couch,”

His heart pounds aggressively against your chest, you can’t muster what he sobs in your neck, his cries overpower any possibility of deciphering what he says. You feel your pulse in your ears, and you’re close to succumbing under his weight.

“Please, you have to lay on the couch.” You’re powerless, your own tears cloud your sight, the only thought running through your mind is to get him to safety. You move your hands around his waist, and you thank the gods, as Jungkook seems to hear your words, and weakly takes a step towards the seat.

To see a man, you love crumbled in your arms, barely standing, and breathing, breaks a piece of your sanity. You don’t know what your body is doing, but you zero on the couch, and only distinctly hear yourself muttering “We’re almost there, one more step” with every step you take.

You fall into the couch, your hands automatically reaching for his face, hoping to understand what is going on. You’re met with his blood-shot eyes and tear covered face, his breath is shallow, and you don’t know what to do.

Jungkook throws himself into your embrace, and you finally hear what he’s been muttering like a mantra all this time, and the words “please don’t leave me all alone” only serve to make your own tears escalate.

“I need to call the ambulance” you cry out, only for Jungkook to hold you tighter and cry out no one after the other. His breathing gets worse, and you realize if he doesn’t calm down, he will pass out.

“Jungkook, breathe.” You loudly breathe in and out, caressing his head, and feel him messily repeat your actions. Every second seems eternity long, and you pray to whomever sits upstairs, that he will be alright. With heavy chest you watch how his breathing normalizes, and sobs turn to hiccups, your body deflates, and you rest your head against his.

You allow your heart to stabilize, carefully listening to his shallow breaths, “Do you have any calming meds?” you whisper in his hair. He detaches from your skin and looks up.

“Please don’t go.” He defeatedly whispers. You hush him and rest your forehead against his, “I’m here, but I need to make sure you’re alright.” Uncertainly he nods, and points towards the kitchen.

You get up from the couch and Jungkook grabs your hand, “Kitchen” you whisper, and see the relief in his eyes. The moment he lets you go, you rush towards the room, you shake your head, as the kitchen counters are filled with bottles of medication, pills scattered all over.

You search through the bottles; your home never looked like this, Jungkook is a perfectionist, he never left a single dirty dish out, but now the space is covered in dust, no sense of your family home present.

Picking the right bottle, you search for water, only to realize it’s not here. You open the fridge to find it empty as well. Praying for the best, you open the trash, and you know you’ve failed him. You turn to the couch, to see Jungkook watching you with tears still running down his face.

You want to cry, but now is not the time, with both of you unstable no good will rise, and he needs you now. You try to silence your mind and fill up a glass with tap water. Thankfully, his family kept the apartment running.

You return to Jungkook and press the glass and pill in his hands. Silently you watch how he follows your command and bend down to your purse to fish out your phone. “What are you doing” he panics besides you. Before he starts to hyperventilate again, you grab his hand and as softly as possible whisper, “Only ordering food, don’t worry.”

You notice how your hands shake around your phone, barely managing to order, before your phone drops to the carpet. You catch Jungkooks gaze, and you don’t know if you should, but you wish that you’d be wrong,

“Have you-” you swallow, and try to keep composure, “Have you eaten anything since you’ve been discharged?”

He doesn’t answer you but continues to stare. You take a deep breath and continue, “Have you drank anything?”

If Jungkook doesn’t decide to murder you for your betrayal, you’re sure that the silence will. The dark circles and blood-shot eyes encourages you to get to the bottom of this, “Slept?”

You search his eyes for an answer, praying that he’s too stubborn to answer, rather than cavalier enough to try and withhold the truth from breaking your heart further. But he simply stares, no emotion travelling past the deep mahogany eyes.

“You know I can’t sleep without you.” Is the only thing he whispers. He doesn’t break your eye contact, and you wonder, perhaps he truly wants to see your pain, enjoy the way his self-neglectance makes you feel like you’ve failed.

You take another look at his disheveled form, gulp down your emotions and turn to the stairs. “Where are you going?” one single step away from him, makes his voice shake in panic, and you wonder how’d you get to this place.

With a look over your shoulders, “Run you a bath”, Jungkook nods his head in understanding, and silently follows you. You turn to him once he reaches the staircase, unsure if he’s strong enough to climb it.

He pushes your outstretched hand away, and mutters “I can climb the stairs.” You send him an unsure gaze, but his eyes harshly move up the stairs, urging you to go in a silent command.

The house truly looks the same, only difference being the coat of dust over the space. Automatically you go into the master bedroom, even if you haven’t been in this house for years, your body still remember every nook and creaky board.

You expect the bedroom to look the same as well, but the bed is filled with your clothes, as if they were thrown around. You send Jungkook a questioning gaze, but the same void eyes greet you; you wonder if this is how it’s going to be, him looking at you with empty eyes.

It’s funny how the one you love, can be the reason of your anguish. You promised to love one another till your dying bed, but here you are, looking at each other with nothing but hurt and betrayal.

Silently you go into the bathroom and start preparing his bath. When you left, you were sure that was the last time you stepped a foot in this house, you wanted to start over, so you left everything behind.

Even if your past actions were rushed, now you’re thankful for them. Cupboards are filled with oils and bubble bath solutions, you have to take a double look to check the expiration dates, but you sigh in relief, as the gentle smell of lavender and chamomile fills the space.

The smell takes you back to when everything was perfect, ever since you two started dating, bath was a sort of escape from reality. After a stressful day at work, you lit the candles, and drowned in each other’s embrace in midst of bubbles. Spilled wine, kisses on shoulders, laughter, and bubble beards - that was the reality.

You help Jungkook step into the bath, and your breath hitches as you see the full extent of his fragile body; scars from the crash, and skin pressed right against bones, bones so prominent that you’re able to see how his sharp shoulder blades bulge when he moves, every single rib, and back bone.

Now this is the reality.

You pour water over Jungkooks hair, the black strands lightly tickle his shoulders, visibly grown out over the past few years. Surprisingly, he relaxes under your touch, head leaning against the bath while you massage shampoo into his hair.

He’s looking at you, but you try to ignore his gaze, as every time your eyes meet, you’re met with dark circles and red, puffy under eyes. The room falls silent, the only sound being the water trickling from his hair.

Jungkooks shoulders slowly relax under your touch, and you move to massage his neck, careful, observing his body language. But his body only further melts into your arms, and when he sighs, you’re sure you made the right call.

The main reason of your visit escapes your mind, you gathered his answer when he named called Tae, but the possibility of him being involved in the ordeal seems great. You keep in mind to check if there’s any correlation between them.

“When I was under, all I remember are sparks of warmth enveloping me,” you stop your movements and look at his face, how his eyes search the ceiling, as if they hold the truth to his misery, “But then it stopped, and coldness overtook my body. Conscious enough to feel like you’re about to wake up yet suffocating in coldness and loneliness.” He whispers, and your heart clenches at the tears clouding his eyes.

“I think it’s because of you - when you stopped visiting me. I think I felt it.” He tilts his head up to catch your gaze, and you stare at him in silence, no words able to bear the barrier of guilt. At times you’ve caught yourself regretting your decision, heart crying out for your ex-husband, missing his touch, and soothing kisses. But you could never regret meeting Tae, he’s been with you through it all, and you’ll be forever indebted for that.

You caress his cheek, and he looks at you lost in thoughts, but when he pursues his lips, you know somethings weighting his mind. “How did you meet him?” Your fingers freeze and you search his eyes confused, is he actually asking about your husband? No uncontrollable rage behind the words?

But he looks just as lost as you are, but you don’t miss your shot and cautiously murmur, “At the hospital. His mom was admitted, and we leaned on each other for support.” His face scrunches as if your words were physically hurting him.

“I’m so glad I helped you bond over my anguish.” He spits out, and his body tenses. You see the patterns of anger return, and desperately whisper, “Jungkook-”

“Save it.” His tone is final, and his clenched jaw combined with his stiff body should’ve been a warning for you to drop it; but he gave you a small bead of hope that everything might be alright, and you don’t want it to burn out.

“If you’d give him a chance, you’d see that he’s a good man” your words are rushed, and so are his actions. His shoulders move to his ears in disgust, and he jerks his body away from your touch, his back turned to you, “How the fuck can you talk with such ease about your affair?” his voice raises.

“The idea of him touching you disgusts me; do you actually want me to hurt him?” you watch helplessly how he pulls his hair. His voice breaks and body shakes, and you pull him back into your embrace by his shoulders.

Your body leans over the tub, and you back hug him; arms around his shoulders, as he’s pressed against your chest. “How can you do that to me? I love you, and you promised to be mine years ago. Does that mean nothing to you?”

His voice shakes and body sinks deeper under water, face pressed against your arms. You calm your own heart and brush your nose over his hair, smelling the gentle lavender. Water splashes everywhere, your top soaked, but you don’t mind, as you try to ground him.

“I love you with all of my heart,” you murmur against his wet strands, “Never forget that.”

You stay in each other’s embrace for a while; Jungkook cherishes your warmth like never before. Yes, he’s out of the void he’d been stuck in for years, but the feeling he told you about hasn’t faded.

The past week had been excruciating, he was alone in your home, in the place he should’ve felt the safest at. But void overtook his mind, coldness seeped under his skin, and he felt like he’s back in the cage he barely escaped from.

No matter how high he turned on the heating, his body was shivering from cold, and he awaited the day his body would freeze, and the pain would go away. Death seemed like an escape.

He realized this wasn’t his home, not really. His heart wasn’t bound to it, it was bound to you. And the further you were, the tighter the golden strings around his heart pulled, cutting off blood, and leaving him suffocating.

He detests the man who steals your warmth, who stole you from him. He doesn’t understand why you chose a farmer over him. Him, who does everything and beyond to fulfill your dreams, him, who painted the walls your favorite color, and made your forever home from stars that painted the sky golden.

Happiness doesn’t come to those who wait, it comes to those who fight for it. And he will fight for you. Physical alterations have never been his style, but if it comes down to it, he wouldn’t put it past him. But then again, he’s an attorney, and sometimes one has to use his advantage.

Silence is interrupted by a doorbell, slightly startled from the noise, you mutter, “Food must be here”. Before Jungkook manages to disapprove you quickly let go of him, and with a quick peck on top of his head, you’re flying down the stairs.

The moment felt too intimate even for you and moving out of his presence gives you time to collect yourself. You choose to ignore the confused look on the delivery-guys face; at this point you’re used to looking like a mess. Mascara smudged, hair tousled, clothes soaked. You simply smile and gather the bags from his hands.

Goosebumps cover your body due to the wet clothes, and your carry the paper bags away from your body, so they don’t get ruined as well. Jungkook awaits you in the bedroom, clean clothes on his back, and you watch how he gently removes your clothes from the bed and carries them into the walk-in closet.

You put the food down and follow him, the closet is still mostly full, not a single piece of clothing out of its usual habitat. Your fingertips traces over the elegant dresses, so soft to the skin like you’re touching a cloud.

Not so long ago this was your life, formal parties and theatre plays a part of your daily routine. Memory so far yet so tangible. And now you’re married to a farmer, overalls and dungarees is your daily routine. You don’t mind your life, found comfort in the routine of it; yet now, when you’re presented with the life you gave away, you can’t deny that at times you miss it.

“Here,” Jungkook hands you one of his t-shirts, “You must be uncomfortable.” Uncomfortable is an understatement, your skin irritated from the rough fabric, but he gives you his clothes in the midst of a full closet of your own. You bite back a remark and take it, quickly shooing him away to get dressed.

You pull the shirt over your head, all while not taking your eyes off of a particular dress. You take it off of the hanger and a smile graces your lips. This is the dress in which you announced your engagement; the red silk fabric reminds you of the sprinkles of champagne, and happily applauding family members. You take a closer look at the bodice and laugh, the maroon stain where Jungkook accidentally spilt his wine still visible, the day was too happy for you to be mad, you simply laughed it off.

Each of the pieces carry out a significance of your past life; the mahogany off-the shoulders dress for your first gallery exhibition, the elegant romper you wore for Jungkooks bachelors party, because yes, he refused to spend it without you. You’ve to pull yourself away from the memorial of your past, this isn’t real life.

When you come out of the closet, you sit next to Jungkook on the bed, and hand him a tray of soup – probably the best course of action, considering he hasn’t eaten in days. His hands shake around the spoon, his body exhausted from muscle extortion and sleepless days.

You look around the room, picture frames of your college days and wedding decorate the walls. Suddenly you can’t wait to go back to your husband, the overflow of memories overwhelms you.

A certain question keeps bugging you for more than a week now. You didn’t feel comfortable rising it in the hospital, Jeon judging stares left you relentless as it was, but this is Jungkook, you should be able to ask him anything, right? “Do you actually plan on suing the doctors?” you softly mutter as to not startle him with the hot brew in his hands.

He lowers the spoon and ticks his head, “If it wasn’t because of them, we wouldn’t be in this situation. Someone has to pay for it.” You watch how he continues to eat; to a certain extant you understand his stance, what wouldn’t you’ve done couple of years back for him to wake up.

But he wasn’t the one who spent every week crying on doctors’ shoulders, they offered you strength and compassion, and your consciousness spikes of you not being able to offer them the same in time of need.

Jungkook pushes the bowl away from him, and groans, “I can’t eat more. I feel sick.” He didn’t even eat half of the bowl, and you worry how fragile his body is, but you don’t push.

“Will you promise to eat more when you wake up?” he looks at you with a calculative gaze before he focuses on the bedsheets. “You won’t be here?” he emptily snickers “Am I your pity case?”

He still doesn’t understand. You grab his hand, and make him look at you “Jungkook, I love you with all of my heart,” you hope that the fierce look in your eyes confirms that, “But I have also promised to love him,” his face scrunches, and he looks away from you. Jungkook opens his mouth to cut you off, but you draw his head back to you and continue.

“I have signed a document stating that I will love him” you know that’s the last thing he wants to hear, but he has to understand you’re married, and your rightful place is to be besides your husband.

He shakes his head without saying a word, and falls into the pillows, “Like I said, someone has to pay for it.” You watch him and shake your head, he’s great at blaming everyone but you, for your own actions.

You put the food on the table, and climb back in the bed, remembering how hard it’s for him to sleep without you by his side. You draw the comforter over him and lie on your side watching him. He turns to you as well and intertwines your hands.

Neither of you speak, and you wait for Jungkook to close his eyes. But he fights sleep, and a droopy grin paints his expression, imagining him lying in the bed 7 years ago with his wife. But his stubbornness holds no strength to his prominent eye bags, and his eyes slowly close.  

Before he falls asleep, he whispers the lone thought eating his consciousness, “If you hadn’t married him, would you stay?”

Out of all the questions he’d asked, this is the easiest one. Without a second thought you whisper, “Always.”, and the last bit of stubbornness leaves his body, his smile increases, and he pulls your hands closer and kisses your knuckles.

His breath evens out and his cheeks form a pout as sleep invades his body. As peaceful as he looks, you can’t stop the unease creeping up your nerves. The view seems hauntingly familiar to his motionless body in the hospital.

You have to stop yourself from waking him up, just to check that the last week hasn’t been a fever dream, and he is, indeed back to life. You force yourself to stay put for a couple of more minutes, trying to prioritize his health over your discomfort.

But you feel uncomfortable leaving him like this, what if he awoke only for a moment, and will never be by your side again? You sit up, ready to quietly leave, but with one last look over your shoulder, you cave in and pinch him.

When he furrows brows from the unexpected sensory you breath out.

You contemplated leaving then and there, but guilt crept up your spine, like you were abandoning a lost puppy. Only in this scenario, the puppy is a grown adult, who’s begging for you to stay.

Standing by the door you take one last look at the apartment and decide you can’t leave it like this. Judging by Jungkooks exhausted state, you have more than enough time to rid this place of the painful reminders coating every inch of it.

You found some gloves in the kitchen and got to work. You didn’t stop till every corner gleamed and spent what little money you had on his groceries. Perhaps you haven’t made the best decisions, but you do care.

~

“He threatened you!” Taehyung looks at you flabbergasted, searching your eyes as to why you’re so careless of it.

You arrived home yesterday evening, and ever since then both of you have been arguing, neither willing to see the others POV. You told him the truth, Jungkooks distaste for Taehyung, his possible involvement in the lawsuit – you were honest and told him everything, and now you’re starting to regret that choice.

You drop your bag on the hallway floor, ready to leave the house and escape to your job, tired of the pointless arguing, “He’s lost, confused, what do you expect from him?” You never know how one might act in stressful situations, his life has turned upside-down; he missed out on most of his twenties – the time when one enjoys themselves, relishes the responsibility free life, and celebrates freedom. Of course, he’s lashing out.

“Not to threaten both of us, that’s for sure.” His words irk you; a sense of defensiveness comes over you, and you bite your cheek trying to calm down, “You don’t know him, he acts threatening, but his soul is gentle, he’d never hurt a fly.”

Taehyungs shoulders drop once he sees your pleading eyes; arguing has never been your pitfall, but these past weeks have been the most stressful of his life. Each muscle in his body is tense, ugly bursts of anger colored with desperation bubble in his chest. There is a reason why he vowed for better and for worse, you’re in this together.

Two letters fall from the doors mail slot and Taehyung bends down to grab them. You watch how he tears one of them open, while simultaneously hands you the other. Your name is printed on it, and you’re left confused when you see courts stamp next to it.

You’re about to open it, but before you manage to, Taehyung curses and you look up and meet his helpless gaze. “They’ve annulled my certificate till the court ends.” You purse your lips, trying to understand what he just said.

You move over to him and read the notice in his hands, “What does that even mean?” you look up and down from him to the letter, scared of the consequences that might entail, “That means hundreds of laid off workers, bankrupt business, and no income whatsoever. What are we supposed to do with court? All of our savings went into compensations, and no one wants to associate themselves with us-”

His words fade out as your gaze shifts to the letter in your own hands, you shoot daggers to it, and forcefully rip it open. Your eyes scan the text, and mutter “Oh my fucking god.”

At this, Tae stops his rambling, and when he notices court papers into your own hands, he nervously asks, “What?” You look up from the notice and clear your throat, “Um-”, you’re not sure where to being, your mind unable to process the information.

“It says that my divorce to Jungkook is annulled, as I have submitted forged documents,” his eyebrows scrunches and he shakes his head confused, “Wait what-”, but you’re not done, and you scan the other notice “And I'm being summoned to court as forgery is a criminal offence.”

“That’s not possible, I saw the doctors give you the documents with my own eyes!” his voice raises, but a particular symbol at the bottom corner of the notice gains your attention. You put both documents together to compare the stamps, and barely audible whisper “No fucking way.”

You snatch the documents from his hands, and when all the stamps match, you call out once more the only sentence your mind can muster, “Oh my fucking god!” You look at Tae in expiration and show the documents in his face.

“Bottom left. Under the prosecutor’s signature. Does the stamp remind you of something?” He takes the papers from your hands, and when he pursues his lips, and takes a double look at them, you know he’s got it.

“Is that…?” with a feigned laugh you finish his sentence, “Jungkooks company.”

You look at each other at a loss of what to do, when he said he had the power – he meant it. But never in million years did you think he would use his status against you, the corrupt ways of the law and one’s upper hand leaves you restless. Worst of all, he wants you to know it, he could’ve used any other company, one you wouldn’t recognize, and played his schemes unbeknownst to your knowledge.

But no, he wants you to know that he’s in power.

Unfortunately, you don’t see another choice but to fold under the pressure; your hands automatically reach for your pockets in search of your phone.

“Where is my phone?” Rushed you mutter, grabbing your purse to look for it there. Instead of answering, he asks, “What do you plan on doing?” Not finding it there you move to the coats rack, not minding if the jackets fall over in haste.

“I have to go to him. There’s no other choice.” Frustrated you sigh, and close to shout, “Where is my damn phone?!”

Taehyung comes up to you, and stops your actions, “Don’t go to him. We can fight this. We’ll take out a loan, and-” you interrupt him, “No one in their right mind will give us a loan. We’re already in debt as it is, you’re jobless, and my wage barely covers food. And now, we're both on trial.”

At that you groan, forgetting one crucial element, “Can you call my boss, I won’t be able to go in today. I still haven’t found my phone!” Taehyung stands silent, and after a while fishes out his phone to follow your command. He’s not able to rebut your words, he knows you’re right.

He puts the call on speaker, and after a couple of beeps your boss answers the phone, “Hi! It’s me. I know it’s a short notice, but something important came up, and I won’t be able to come in today. But I-”

“Save it. You have a week to collect your things, I have no use of a slacking employee. You’re fired.” With that she hangs up, and you’re left speechless looking at the beeping phone. You contemplate all of your life choices, when did life get so hard?

You look at Tae and drop your shoulders, “And now we’re both unemployed.”

He closes his eyes, and you see defeat written across his face when he moves to the windowsill and grabs your phone to hand it you. Quietly you thank him and drop it in your bag. Before you manage to step a foot out of the door, he calls after you, and you turn your head to look at him.

“He’d never hurt a fly, right?” He’s using your words against you, and you hate that he was right. But your blind love for your ex-husband left you fooled, and without a word you step outside.

~

You march down the hallway to Jungkooks apartment, hours you spent alone in your car only fueled your desperation. You didn’t bother calling him, somehow you felt like he knew you’d be there soon.

His door’s unlocked, and that only further proves your point. Not wasting a second, you walk through the apartment, and find him in kitchen cooking. This time he looks collected, hair in ponytail and clothes without a single crease.

He looks up from the cutting board and smiles, “I was wondering when you’d come by. I’m making your favorite, come, sit.” He points to the kitchen island, and you drop your bag on the table and move your hands on your hips.

“Why did you do that?” he washes his hands and looks at you questioningly. “Don’t pretend. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

He smoothly stirs the sauce in the pan and comforts you, “If you’re worried about the charges – don’t. I can take care of that once you move back in.”

You stare at him incredulous; how can he speak so calmly about it? “I’m worried about being called to court over procedures that aren’t even legal.”

“Submitting forged documents is a valid reason to being called in.” he ever so calmly states, and you feel your blood boil, “Every document I submitted is real. And I’m sure the doctors will testify so.” But he only smiles and shakes his head, and continues to stir the food, while cheekily clarifying, “Will they?”

You consulted five different specialists before proceeding with divorce, of course they’ll testify the same, as their answers broke your heart one after the other years back. You shake your head trying to figure out where he’s coming from, why wouldn’t they-

Till it clicks. “You threatened them. If they don’t comply, you’ll sue them.” Jungkook tilts his head and presses his lips together, “I don’t threaten people. I simply explained their options.”

Your mouth agapes, and you whisper, “This is insane, Jungkook.”

This gathers his attention, and he clicks his tongue and comes closer to you, “You said your affair is the only barrier between us. I got rid of the problem, you should be thanking me.”

“Marriage Jungkook! I’m not having an affair, I’m married.” You raise your voice and hit your chest. He never calls it what it is. A marriage. One you freely chose.

“No, it’s not.” His tone changes, and now you’re both angry. You recognize the deep tone, it’s the one he used in courts, not a single person willing to interrupt his matter-of-fact statements. “You’re lawfully married to me; your surname carries my legacy. Don’t ever compare me to your adultery.”

He might be right, but he seamlessly evades why you’re married to him – how he used his power to tie you to him. “I will fight this.” You bite back.

“Will you though?” you clench your jaw, “Because I don’t see you winning. Are you willing to sacrifice your boy-toy and his whole family for a fight you’ll never be able to win? Their business, which they created generations ago. Go against specialists, who will testify the same statements? Not to mention what resources you have; jobless, without a penny to your heart. Do you think that anyone will employ you, with a criminal record?”

Fighting back tears, you wince out, “How do you know that?” Seeing your glazed eyes, Jungkook stands in front of you, and pats your hair, “You live in a village. Words travel fast.”

Unable to hold it in, you sob, feeling trapped with the burdens of life dragging you down. His words ring through your head, and you know – he’s not a man of who’s words should be taken for granted.  

Your sobs increase once you realize – this is not a fight you’ll ever win. He pulls you into his embrace, and you scrunch his shirt in fists, hating him for dragging you into this mess, hating him for getting on that motorcycle years ago, and leaving you all alone. Hating him, for he was the one you promised your heart to – hating him, for not being able to hate him.

He rocks you from side to side, and shushes your cries, “You broke our vows, but I promise to patch them.” He detangles your hand from his shirt, and you don’t notice him pulling your ring off your finger.

The sound of something falling catches your attention, and you see the silver bands lying on the floor. You look up and see him slipping your wedding ring on your finger, the golden ornament shining in the light bright as ever, as if it had never gathered dust in the drawer.

Jungkook kisses your forehead finally satisfied, the golden strings tying you back to your rightful place. Back to him.

“For better or for worse, baby”

 ~

Hi! Hope you enjoyed this story, as always would love to hear your thoughts on it. And thank you so much for all of the attention preview got, hope it didn’t disappoint ☺️

I haven’t managed to edit it yet, wanted to publish it for all of you, as you’ve been waiting for awhile.

As always, thank you for reading, hope you stick around! 🌻

[jinwoosbabyboo]

“Pinky Promise”

How I imagine the LADS Men would pinky promise you. I take pinky promises very seriously. Don’t break your promise if we sealed it with our pinkies.

Zayne

MC: You promise?

Zayne: ….

MC: Promise me Zayne

Zayne is a man a little words however his actions speak for him. Of course he promises but he can’t bring himself to say it

You’d extend your pinky in his direction while holding eye contact with that comforting smile and those mesmerizing eyes he can’t say no to

Hes hesitant but slowly raises his pinky.

You’d grab his pinky locking them w/ an invisible contract causing a subtle amount of shock to cross his features as his eyes soften when you pull him to lay down on your lap

You play in his hair as he nuzzles closer trying to feel as much of you as he can committing the feel to memory

He’d promise you anything. You’re his world.

Rafayel

MC: You promise?

Rafayel: I promise

Rafayel is more than ready to pinky promise you

Although you don’t remember the first time you met you made an eternal vow with a pinky promise

Raf would cock his head slightly with that gorgeous smile of his while doing the triangle method on you

He’d gently meet your pinky with his locking them together and he’d even seal it with a kiss while never breaking eye contact

He’d release your pinky and grab your chin pressing the softest and sweetest kiss on your lips smiling against them afterwards

Xavier

MC: Promise me

Xavier: I promise my lady

Xavier would do anything for you not only are you his for the keeping he is yours whole heartedly with unyielding loyalty and devotion

His pinky promise is solid and unbending you can tell he means it by the way he squeezes your pinky

There’s no hesitation and no doubt he meets you halfway squeezing tight once your pinkies are locked

He’d keep them locked as he lowers your hands and leans in pressing his forehead to yours before placing a soft kiss on your forehead

Everything he does is for you of course he’s quick to make a promise (even if he doesn’t know if he can keep it….)

Sylus

Sylus: Give me your pinky

MC: How did you-

Sylus: I know you better than you think

Sylus can read you like an open book he already knew you’d need the reassurance that came with a promise intertwined between your pinky and his

He’d already have his pinky up ready and waiting for yours

Your pinky is dainty compared to his large hands. Hes so smitten with you he’s actively voiced he’d do anything and everything for you so there’s no questioning him

Any promise he makes he’ll keep no matter what

Sylus would hold eye contact with you his eyes softening and a genuine smile spreading across his face

He’d slowly release your pinky as he grabbed your waist bringing you close and giving the back of you hand a soft kiss before turning your hand to cup his face as he also kisses your palm

Whispering “Anything for you princess” to himself but just enough for you to hear