#I just...I love him so much for so many reasons | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

somanyideassolittletime · 2 days ago

Text

Hints.

Pairings: Jack Abbot x Fem!Attending!Reader

Summary : 4 Times Shen Hinted to Jack about you, only for you to beat him to it .

Warnings: fluff, Jack is yearning hard, slow-ish burn, language, grammar inaccuracies (maybe? idk), Shen being a lil shit. Not beta read.

Author’s note: this is my first time writing a fic, sooooo might be shitty, but I can’t stop thinking of this trope so I decided to take matters into my own hands.

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Jack has always noticed you. He notices that you always spend just a little bit more time with peds patients, he notices that you always indulge in small talks from your coworkers, he notices which nurses you are closest with, he notices almost everything about you.

He was well aware of how close you and Shen are—from seeing both of you for the first time ever, seeing the two of you whispering, thinking “these two are either way too stupid or just way too capable,” which he later proved was indeed the latter. Both you and Shen have the honor of being nicknamed ‘dumb and dumber’ due to how much you bicker with each other. It came with the territory of being best friends since med school.

He was glad to have you both under his guidance; the two of you seemed to be able to work autonomously, and his weight has been lighter ever since ‘dumb and dumber’ started working with him.

He knows that you always carpool with him every time you both are on the same schedule, knows that you are the one who introduced Shen to his current girlfriend, and knows that you and Shen tell each other about everything. He also knows that the care you two have for each other is nothing more than a sibling bond.

What Jack doesn't notice about you? How much you are actually in love with him.

What Jack doesn't know? Shen is so tired of seeing both of you pining for each other.

Both of you always held the same admiration for each other, and the caring nature you both have somehow multiplied when either one of you is on the receiving end of said nature. But Jack, being Jack, brushed it off as you being in your usual caring nature. Which was true, to some extent, you have always been caring for others. And you, being you, always brushed it off as Jack being a good senior.

For others, though, it was as plain as day that you both are in love with each other, and since Shen was basically your body double, he often gets asked about the two of you which pisses him off to no end.

(‘You can’t put a bet when you know what’s going on,’ Perlah once argued with him. Earning a nod of approval from others.

‘I know nothing, all I know is that she’s got a big crush on someone. I don’t even know if it’s Abbot,” Shen reasons.

‘The moment she tells you anything, anything at all, you be a man and back off from this.’ Princess points at him.

‘Yeah, yeah, you guys know I’m a good sport.’ )

| one

After finishing up a GSW case on a police officer, Jack walked out of the room, eyes scanning for you—a habit he realized he's been doing way too much of.

When his eyes found your figure, he watched as you were talking to an officer, friends of the patient he just finished up on, no doubt.

Now he knew that you had been asked out many times before this, but he had only heard it in passing, on gossip, on jokes that usually involve you cutting in with a laugh and a mocking tone of “yeah right as if”. Now that he has had the chance to see it in action, he doesn't know how to feel.

The officer you were talking to was smiling, with his hands on his vest, a straight posture, and chest slightly puffed. He could easily pass as the poster boy of the force, like he just came out of a police TV show you and Shen liked so much. He knew it because he once overheard you and Shen talking about it, and he arrived home, searched all of his subscriptions to watch one of the episodes.

He tried to tear his gaze away. Really tried. But he couldn't, he was curious about what that boy could possibly be talking about with you.

Even from afar, without hearing what you two were talking about, he can confirm that the officer was definitely asking you out, with how much machismo he's exuding while offering his name card.

But he knows you better, he can see that you look awkward, like you just indulge him in a conversation out of respect and common courtesy, not out of interest.

Deciding that he could not see another minute of this, he decided to approach you but not even a step later that Shen stepped beside him and snorted.

“Jesus, she could probably make a yellow page by now if she doesn't throw those cards away.”

“What?”

“He's too young for her. She's too smart for him.” He commented as if it were obvious.

“He probably is the same age as you, man, and he seems…nice,” Jack argued, though he did find a slight comfort in Shen’s comment.

“Trust me. The moment he stepped away, she’ll throw that card.”

“And how are you so sure?”

“You.” He said it casually.

“What?” He croaked out.

Shen sighed, patted his shoulder, and walked away from him.

wanting to search for some truth in Shen’s words, he stayed in his spot, still looking at you.

True to Shen’s word, the moment the officer stepped away far enough from you, you walked over to the nearest trash bin and smoothly threw the card away.

He's not sure what he's supposed to be feeling now. Happy that you declined that guy's offer? Or sad that you didn't get a good night out with a guy that seemed nice.

But somehow his mind kept repeating what Shen told him. Looking for any reason—one that didn't give him any hope.

He must've zoned out for a while because you suddenly appeared in front of him, “Jack. Hey. Are you good?” Waving your hand in front of his face.

He's gotten you to call him Jack when it's just the two of you. Courtesy to one time you were looking for him on the rooftop, and you jokingly said, “Do I get to call you Jack now that I just walked an ungodly amount of stairs just to search you? Because I really just used the stairs.” Upon hearing his name uttered by you, he said yes, to please call him Jack.

He shook his head and searched for your eyes. “Yeah. No, I'm good. He seemed nice,” he pointed his chin towards the officer from earlier. Now standing in the ambulance bay, looking at his phone.

“Not my type,” you replied with ease. Because it was the truth, you never wanted to put anyone you decided to go on a date with, only for you to spend the entire time wishing it was Jack.

“You never seem to be hit on by your type, huh?” He commented. Because that’s what’s been bothering him, why is it that you never even got interested in the slightest with anyone who came across interested with you?

You smirked at that. “What would you know about my type now?”

“What is it then?”

Before you could reply, your name got called away, and you stepped away from him before saying, “Just wait and see, Dr. Abbot.”

| two

It was unusually cold tonight in the ER, and the city was raining for the entire day. Hell, the weather even got everyone who always swore by iced coffee switching it up to hot ones now.

Jack was glad for the weather, it meant that fewer people would come to the ER unless it was something like life-threatening injuries or one requiring immediate treatment.

A small part of him deep down also likes nights like this because it usually meant he got to spend more small moments with you. Not that he would ever admit it out loud sober.

Tonight, it seems fate has a different plan. It's been two hours into the shift, and he hasn't even said hi to you. He noticed that you keep moving around, busying yourself with everything.

Jack was charting on his station, looking up once in a while, looking at you talking to patients, when Shen approached him. Seeing this as his moment to ask about you, he cut to the chase.

“What's going on with her?” He nodded to your figure.

“Was gonna talk to you about it.”

Hearing that, Jack straightened up and looked at Shen, urging him to continue.

“This cold bothers you?” Shen started.

“You came to me to ask ‘bout the fuckin weather?”

“2 hours no contact and it’s grumpy Abbot today, huh?”

“No. And no.” He answered, not liking what Shen was trying to insinuate at him.

“You got a jacket lying around?”

“In my locker. What for?”

“She won't admit it, but she's cold as hell. Been moving around like she got the fuckin zoomies to manage it” he explained.

“Where's her jacket?” Jack asked, since he knew you always brought your jacket every day.

“We ran late today. Was gonna give me my jacket, but why should I when you're here,”

“What do you mean?” Jack knew what he meant, but he'd have to be held at gunpoint to admit it.

“Jacket. Give. To. Her. Okay?.” Shen mockingly said, emphasizing every word he said, miming an act of giving a Jacket and pointing to your figure.

“Yeah, okay.” He mutters under his breath just loud enough.

Before he left his station, he called for Shen again.

“Thanks for telling me.”

Shen laughed at him and waved his hand dismissively.

Jack decided to walk over to you and intervene before you even move to another bed again.

“Come with me.” He touched your exposed elbow to gain your attention, now finally close enough to see goosebumps from the cold.

“Okay. Yeah.” You nodded at him

He leads both of you to the lockers, you following him on his side.

He stopped in front of his locker, pressing his code on the keypad, and opened the door.

You were dead curious about what stuff he had in his locker, that you forgot to ask yourself why he brought you here. So you tiptoed to get a good look inside his locker over his shoulder.

Realizing this, Jack chuckled and stepped away from his locker and let you get a good look inside. “Hope you're not expecting anything.”

His locker is filled with things you could expect: a toiletries pouch, a black t-shirt, a cargo, and a jacket. All neatly placed inside. Seeing that you already got a good look inside, he reached over his locker, extended his arm in front of you, and snatched his jacket.

You looked at him curiously, wondering where this going, why is Jack bringing you here, is he just flaunting that he got a jacket??

He handed his jacket over to you. “Wear it. Before you replaced the Iceman in X-Men” you smiled at his reference and took his jacket in your hand, softly saying thanks out of habit to him, undoing the zipper.

“You finally watched it?” You said as you started to put your arms in the sleeves.

“I liked cyclops,” he shrugged, taking in your figure in his jacket. The jacket fit perfectly. Like it was meant to be worn by you only. His stomach churned because that Jacket was, in all seriousness, his favorite jacket, and seeing you in it might just made his entire day.

“’ Course you liked the simp,” you commented, receiving a ‘hey’ from him.

You snuggled into his jacket and frowned. “Smells like Tide Pods”

“You know I do wash my clothes, right?”

“You got your cologne there?” You asked him, pointing at his locker with your chin.

“That pouch,” he nodded and pointed at his toiletries pouch.

He was going to ask a follow-up question when you reached inside his locker and took out his pouch, unzipped it, and rummaged through it. So he decided that watching you was better than asking you.

You seemed to have found his cologne when you pushed the pouch into his hand, urging him to hold on to it, and sprayed his cologne on his jacket.

Thank god I wasn't lured by those apple watches. Would've given me notifications on irregular heartbeat by now.

You took the pouch, put his cologne inside, zipped it, put it back inside his locker, and rubbed your nose on the jacket to smell it again.

Jack couldn't form a proper sentence—the best he can do is croak out a “why?”

You shrugged as if it was no big deal—it was, you were just good at schooling your expressions.

“You smelled nice. I don't want to wear your jacket if it doesn't smell like you.”

Fuck

“5578? You should've closed your hand over the keypad before punching it in. Now I’m gonna steal your cologne when you're not looking,” you thought that your earlier statement was too bold. So you tried to change the topic.

“Be my guest.” He challenged.

You walked past him, saying, “I will, Jack, I will,” and muttered a thank you once again, but fell on deaf ears as his tactile, visual, and olfactory senses were overwhelmed by you in his jacket, smelling like him, patting at his shoulder.

| three

Jack arrived in ED 15 minutes before his shift change that night. He did the usual— putting his bag down, greeting Dana, and asking her where he could find Robby. Dana answered that he was in the break room, with Shen last time she saw Robby.

He entered the room, finding eye contact with Robby, who was sitting at the table with Shen, eating donuts. Both of them muffled a ‘hey’ to him, pushing the leftover donut in the box to him.

He muttered a ‘no thanks’ and went to the coffee machine to nurse himself a glass before perching himself on the edge of the counter.

Shen spoke up first. “It's her day off”.

Jack, who was sipping on his coffee, stopped mid-motion and searched for Robby’s eyes, who, as it turns out, is smiling smugly at him.

“So?” He replied coyly.

“Just a heads up, though I don’t recall John saying a name,” Robby replied.

Shen muttered something under his breath—just enough to be heard. “He's gonna be insufferable tonight.”

Robby laughed, “Best of luck to you, John.”

“Aren’t you two sweet now?” Jack grumbled to nobody in the room.

Deciding that it was time to torture Jack further, Robby asked Shen in a tone Jack knew all too well. “How’s your girl?”

Shen smiled at him, even from behind, Jack could see him breathing out a sigh of contentment every time someone brought his girl up.

“She’s doing great, kept asking me to find Y/n a guy so we can double date, I mean it’s not even my problem, whoever she’s got her eyes on doesn’t have the balls. She got me a girl for God's sake, why can’t she find herself a guy?” He shrugged and twisted his head to look at Jack. “Abbot, you gonna eat this or can I claim it?”.

Jack hated where this conversation was going – not that he was actively joining, he was already mulling over the idea of surviving this shift without having something to look forward to. Though he couldn’t ignore the pang of fear when Shen looked over at him, he felt like a kid getting caught stealing by their parents at that moment.

“Go ahead,” hearing thi,s Shen muttered a ‘nice’ and reached over, taking another donut which was probably rationed for Jack.

He was munching on his donut when he started again, eyes looking back at Robby. “You know I asked her out after 3 months liking her, one hint from Y/n and I was like, you know what? Fuck it. Thank god she was right.”

“3 months? Didn’t peg you for someone to wait that long.” Robby mused back.

“Exactly, man, I was miserable for three months. Can’t imagine pining for someone for 4 years and not making a move. Owe it to y/n though, if she didn’t make that hint, I would’ve been still single and miserable.” Shen was fucking with him. He was sure of it. Because he realized it long time ago that Shen has been hinting at him about you. From always giving a heads up on where you are, to giving hints about you that he didn’t ask for himself. And he was glad, in a sense, he could know more about you, but now that Shen has sussed him out that he is indeed screwed over, he kept on hinting to him.

And Robby? He laughed, knowing where this was headed. He looked over to Jack, who stood still, perched on the edge, unmoving, pretending to enjoy his cup of coffee – but he knew Jack, Jack was listening intently to Shen, and that the coffee was not so good that you could enjoy it. So he decided to join in more.

“Hey, maybe some guys just like playing the long game.”

“Yeah, way too long of a game, more like. What if the girl’s starting to lose hope and decides that you’re not worth it anymore, huh?” Shen was so fed up with whatever is going on with Jack and you that he was dropping hints like flies.

The thing was, you never explicitly told him who it was, but Shen knew you too well – he knew what your type was, knew when you were serious about someone you’d dated or not, and he knew that a certain Jack Abbot was checking every box in your mental list.

Shen was reminiscing about a certain memory now, both of you were 4 years younger, fresh out of med school, stepping for the very first time on this exact floor. He remembered you talking his ear off in the car, worrying about your attending. Scared that your attending will be a close-minded drill sergeant. Your words, not his.

He remembered the two of you introducing yourselves to Robby and hearing happy squeals from you because “thank god he's nice,” only for Robby to say that he is not your attending. But when the two of you finally got introduced to your attending, Shen elbows you and leaned over, whispering “oh you’re definitely fucked now, Wishing on that drill sergeant now huh”. He would’ve continued teasing you if it weren’t for Abbot’s “you two hear me now, kid?” cutting the joke train he’s been holding on forever.

“Well, I'm going to pee now.” He said, pushing his chair while standing up from the chair. He turned his back, pointing at Jack with his finger. “Hope that didn’t go over your head.” he walked away, leaving two men – one smirking his ass off and one suddenly interested in contemplating his life choices.

Robby was going to say something when Jack cut him off. “What the hell did you say to Shen man?” He was irritated now. Robby lifts his hands in a mock surrender at him.

“Didn’t say anything, man. You do realize that your girl’s close with him, right?” he tried to reason.

“I only confide in you man, now Shen’s as bad as you in fuckin with me over it”

“Well, if it's any consolation, maybe she talked to Shen about you?” Robby was trying to get his point across now. “And listen to Shen, he just told you that she’s starting to believe that you don’t feel the same.”

“How do you even know that she’s talking about me, huh?”

“Jack, as much as I love you brother, I gotta say this, you’re fucking stupid in this case for your own good.” Robby stands up, walking closer to Jack, pointing his finger at his shoulder, and says, “Just tell her. For everyone’s sake here, okay?” and that big betting money I put on you to say it to her first. Robby would’ve said.

He left the room, leaving Jack still perched as the last 5 minutes, unmoving, and deep in thought.

| four

Jack was on his way to see the improvement of the kid currently held in Trauma 2 when his stride was stopped by Jeremy, the new intern. “Hey, Dr. Abbot, can I have a minute?”

“Yeah, what is it?” he said curtly.

“Got multiple lacerations and a fracture. I was supposed to be with Dr. Ellis, but she is currently overseeing other patients, so if you can assist me, maybe. If you got a minute, of course.” Jeremy, like any other person who worked under Jack for the first time, is always timid every time he talks to him. Something Jack is not proud of, actually, he’s a gruff man, sure, but scary? One conversation with him and everyone would realize that he is a yapper himself.

“I gotta go check the drowning case earlier for a sec, you can ask Dr. L/n or Dr. Shen, I saw them charting earlier,” he explained to him.

Jeremy nods, “Oh okay, I’ll ask one of them. Thank you, Dr. Abbot.” Before he can move, however, Shen walks over to Jack and asks him about the seizing patient he was assigned to. Jack sighs, looks over to Jeremy, and says, “Guess Dr. L/n is with you,” before he walks with Shen to Trauma 1.

After a few trips in between cases with Shen, Jack finds himself and Shen in front of the nurse's station, telling Bridget that some of the beds are okay to be discharged when Shen asks. “Hey, Bridget, who’s in South 12?”. Jack steps a few steps backwards to search the board, his eyes scanning over it.

South 10

South 11

South 12, - multiple lacerations, fracture.

“Y/n is. With the new kid.” Jack answered him. “Holy shit.” realizing that Jack and Bridget are looking at him waiting he continues “sorry, it’s just I know the guy, Aaron, he’s her ex.”

“Damn, he’s cute,” Bridget says pointedly. Though she was telling the truth, she also wanted to see how Jack would react.

Jack felt weird in his stomach. For the first time in forever, he felt green. Like something was eating him alive. he was your man for some times in your life. He gets to spend mornings with you. He got to date you. He gets to call you- his thought was cut off by Shen saying that he’s going to go over there to say hi.

“Between you and me, that kid got no chance of ever getting her back,” Bridget says. Jack huffs and says that he’s going to go see who can move to free up some beds, looking more sour as the second passes.

Jack promised himself that he wouldn’t care about what’s going on behind the South 12 curtain, but somehow his feet have a mind of their own because now, he finds himself in South 11, not necessarily doing anything, and he was suddenly interested in the sleeping form of the patient occupying the bed though his ears were trained on the next curtain.

“Okay, you’re done for now. Just gotta wait for ortho to be cleared so you can go upstairs,” he hears your voice, characteristically soft. Followed by Jeremy’s voice saying goodbye, and a curtain being opened.

“Thanks, seriously, didn’t know you both worked here,” he hears an unfamiliar voice.

“No problem, man. Thanks for letting that kid work on you.” Shen replied then with a familiarity.

“Nah, with y/n watching him like a hawk, I’ll trust him with my life.” Aaron, albeit high from the pain meds registered to him still talked with a lilt to his voice.

Realizing that you’re done with Aaron, you excused yourself, “Well, I’m going now. Shen, you wanna-” your voice was cut off by Aaron’s hand shooting up, catching your wrist, “Actually, can we talk for a bit?”

Jack clenched his jaw, he didn’t like where this was going.

“Ookay, I’ll leave you both to it,” Shen speaks up, opening the curtain. Earning a glare from you.

“What is it now?” you start, your eyes darting everywhere, only to find Jack’s familiar boots in the next bed, giving you comfort you didn’t know you needed.

“I’m sorry, okay? All these years, I kept on wondering where we went wrong.” You sigh, “Aaron, what went wrong was… everything, and between you and me, parting ways was the best. We've got to focus on ourselves, and it worked. Besides, we were young back then, we didn’t know any better.”

“You could’ve replied to my texts. You owe me that, at least.”

“Last I recall, we have nothing going on anymore-” Aaron cuts you to it. “You’ve found someone. That’s why you’ve been ignoring my texts, why you can pretend that what we had back then was nothing.”

“Being together was a mistake, Aar, we both know that.” You try to reason with him. Not wanting to give his opinion as an answer, because honestly, you didn’t even know whether you had a chance with the man who has your heart or not.

Jack realized that he wasn’t supposed to hear any further, he felt like shit now that he’s heard something very personal. So he decided to leave.

You look at Jack’s boot leaving and suddenly feel less comfortable now that you are alone with your ex.

Jack finds himself in the ambulance bay, his feelings brewing in his stomach as firm as ever. He was feeling everything all at once now – guilt, jealousy, and most prominently, yearning.

“He made a mistake, a big one, she’s been holding off dating because she knows no one is ever gonna replace you, sure as hell not gonna come back to him.” He doesn’t realize that Shen was behind him until his words sink in.

“I don’t even know what to say to her, how are you even so sure that she feels what I feel?” For once, Jack listened to his heart and asked Shen the big question he’s been itching to know for the longest time.

“Look, I know her, okay? I know she never explicitly told me that it was you, but I know that whatever it is you’re feeling, she feels the same.” Shen never speaks to him in such a manner; he realizes it was almost comforting to him.

Jack doesn’t have an answer to that, so he stayed silent. Hoping an ambulance would come in – just to take his mind off of things he’s been thinking. Shen understands him, he doesn’t expect an answer from Jack, so they both stay silent.

Jack woke up on his day off with a call from you, not that he knew it was you who called him that morning. He was awake on the second ring, annoyed but still reaching for his phone on the nightstand to check the caller ID. Upon realizing that it was you who called, he shot up from his position and mentally prepared himself for your voice.

“Jack, are u up?”

He knows that you have seen better days— your voice is strained, tired, and almost giving up.

“Hey, yeah, I’m up now. What's wrong?”

He hears your chuckles and he realizes that this is a good way to wake up.

“Nothing’s wrong, listen- do you wanna maybe get some breakfast with me? Oh wait, you just woke up, never mind, I’ll-”

“I would love to. where are you thinking? I’ll come and get you from the hospital” He cuts you off. Scared that you've decided that he shouldn't go out.

“The diner near your place, I’m walking there currently. I’ll order your usual.”

The diner was a one-time occurrence, after both of you worked the day shift, and with two cans of beer in his system, you offered to drive him with a waffle as a bribe on the way home.

Before he can ask why you were walking alone in the cold, you cut off the call, leaving him practically jumping from his bed to brush his teeth and change his clothes.

Jack was walking to the front door of the diner when he saw you from the glass window, sitting in one booth, head tilted backward, and arms crossed with two coffee mugs and a plate of waffles on the table. His heart stopped the moment he realized that you were wearing his jacket—the one you keep on telling him you were planning to give back, but it never seemed to land on his locker ever again.

He walked to the booth, muttering your name, and he must have looked like he just woke up because you smiled— that loopy smile that always leaves him frozen. “Good morning. You definitely raised the standards for ‘I just woke up’ look”.

“Well, aren’t you cozy in that jacket?” He jested, “Always wear this one if you’re not working.” You replied with a small smile, looking at his eye.

He smiled bashfully and was going to sit across from you when you held his hand and said, “Sit beside me, please,” and he obeyed. He sits beside you, shoulder almost touching, when you put your head on his shoulder. He went stiff for a while, before slightly leaning his position backward so you could be more comfortable.

“I'll give you this jacket back,” you speak first, your voice slightly muffled by his shoulder. he laughed, and moving his head slightly to the left to press a kiss on your hairline. You took it as a chance to put your arms around his waist, snuggling into him further as he put his arm around you, rubbing it in a soothing motion.

“Keep it.” You kissed his shoulder, the intimacy of this moment isn't lost on him, to ground himself, he decided to lift his mug and carefully take a sip of his coffee with his free hand.

“You want to talk about it?” He started, earning a simple nod against his arm and listening attentively on you talking about the shitty shift you just had—one where you lost a boy, and having to talk to his girlfriend who cried on you saying how she never got the chance to tell him she love him was just too much for you. So you made up your mind that moment to tell Jack as soon as you can.

“Jack.” You called out to him, and he hummed at you, hands still moving up and down your back. You continued. “You know I love you, right?.” His hand stopped at that, and you straightened up, hands falling on his thigh, looking at his eyes now.

He couldn't say anything— his heart beating too hard for his liking, his mind went blank, he was sure he'd never felt peace and adrenaline at the same time.

So he looked down, seeing your hands on his thigh, taking it on his own and lifting it to his lips to press a kiss on it.

He breathed deeply. “Fuck. I love you so much, I don't think it's healthy.” His voice was still breathy, from the adrenaline or the fact that he just woke up 10 minutes ago, he never knew.

“Good. 'Means I got custody of this jacket and its owner now” going back to the same comfortable position you were in earlier, and he laughed softly, with a crooked smile, he whispers, “You already have my heart, You can have any of my jackets, honey.”

“But you have to eat first, and after that you can raid my closet and take anything you want, okay?”

“Will you kiss me now?”

He leaned in and kissed you softly—not a hurried kiss, not even a hungry one, it was a genuine soft kiss with years of yearning over each other, pining over one another with nothing but pure love. He kissed you like he meant it, like how you are meant to be kissed—with nothing but love.

The next day, you weren’t even walking together to the ER, but somehow, everybody knew. Robby was talking with Shen, Dana with Bridget, when you joined in to greet everyone, followed by Jack, who put his bag on his station, not even acknowledging the gossip circle.

You were going to say something when Shen beats you to it, “shhhhh before you say anything, who said it first?” Now this caught Jack's attention, who joined in with a smirk on his face.

“She did,” Jack said with a smile. Looking at you now. Dana and Bridget were high-fiving with a ‘yes’. While Robby and Shen quietly muttered a ‘fuck’.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck, I was so close to that 300,” Shen said exasperatedly. Rubbing his face.

“What the fuck, you bet on me John?” you asked him.

“Eh, we all did. Though I technically bet against you.”

You turned to Robby, “You?” he shakes his head and juts his chin out to Jack beside you.

“Before you ask, we both bet that you would be the first to say it,” Dana said cheerfully, thinking of ways she’s going to spend the money.

Shen looks over to Jack before saying, “what the fuck, man. I even gave you hints.” Jack only shrugged his shoulders, “Sorry, man, I wasn’t even expecting it.”

“That’s what you get for playing dirty, John.” Dana shoved his shoulder.

“Told you the girl’s fierce. Never underestimate a woman in love.” Bridget commented on Shen and Robby.

Jack nudged your shoulder, looking at you, smiling fondly before saying, “Yeah, my girl’s fierce.”

Your face turned red at that comment. “Though, you deserve to lose that you got so little faith in me you fucker.” You pointed at Shen. who replied with a “whatever”.

Shen walked over to Jack and put his hand on his shoulder, “Thank you for lightening my burden, now she’s your burden.” you mock hurt at the comment, though the smile on your face says otherwise.

“Gladly. Though you gotta walk me step by step later.” Jack nudged your shoulder once more, you shoved him back as retaliation, “Hey! I’m not the one eavesdropping when I’m talking to my ex.”

Jack was frozen, his ears burning red, when everybody laughed at him.

“While Jack could’ve given me the win, I’m happy for you both, truly,” Robby said earnestly.

Jack leans down, whispering to you, “You should tell Shen he’s not gonna get free coffee anymore now that you’re driving with me.” You whispered back to him, “Nah, he’s a big boy, he’ll understand.”

Your whispers were responded to with sighs and grunts from the others, who decided to leave both of you alone. With Dana walking away, smiling hard, and says, “Keep it PG now, you two.”

You both smiled at each other before parting ways. You turned over to look at him from a distance and mouthed ‘I love you,’ and Jack, who meets your eyes with his stare – now softer than ever – mouthed back ‘love you more.’.

And that was enough, for now.

#jack abbot x reader #the pitt #jack abbot

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butyoudidthis4what · 1 day ago

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Would You Believe Me If...

Jack Abbot x F!Reader

3.5k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CWs: mentions of alcohol; reference to sex; mental health issues; reader is not having a great time; reader doesn't like beer; depression; being sad for no articulable reason; self-hate; ass grab; kissing with tongue; little to no editing/proofreading; Jack being the BEST; hurt/comfort type situation (reader's brain is the hurt, Jack is the comfort)

Summary: Jack sees the sadness you're hiding from everyone and pulls you aside to talk and love on you.

AN: I was sent this ask and inspired to write whatever this is!!!! A short little fluffy comfort fic! I very much agree with that anon that Jack is very much an "On purpose. On purpose I am going to care about you" and "I never loved you on accident?" man. He would see all of you, good and bad, and still love you. I tried to give him that kind of vibe in You're Okay too and we see it here again (I hope, I don't really know what I'm doing anymore). I have absolutely zero fucking clue what the end is or where that came from but here we are friends. ALSO there is a very small Star Wars nod in here since I’m posting on May 4th! Thank you for reading!!

Jack’s eyes find you the second he hears you laugh.

Quite literally a second because he’s always keeping an eye on you when you’re out together, not controlling or because he cares who you’re with. He just always wants to know where you are relative to him, just in case something happens and he needs to get to you. Military training, he supposes.

His eyes find you because he knows that laugh. It’s not your real laugh. It’s fake, the one you put on when you’re not super present and are hiding your sadness. To anyone else it’s very convincing, they don’t blink at it.

He narrows his eyes a little to watch you better as you chat with McKay, Samira and Parker. Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and he can see your leg bouncing under the picnic table, can see the way you chew on the side of your cheek every so often.

“You gonna pay attention to this conversation or just stare at your girl all day?” Robby asks Jack. Most of the crew is at a local park for a picnic celebrating Dana’s birthday.

“I’ve been paying attention and heard everything you said. Unlike you I can multitask.” Jack finally lets his eyes leave you as he turns to look back at Robby. Shen and Whitaker stifle laughs. Everyone knows it’s not true and just Jack giving Robby shit. You have to be able to multitask to be a good emergentologist, and Robby is one of the best, Jack’s told him that many times.

“I agree though,” Jack nods at Robby. “The patient satisfaction scores are bullshit. They should automatically be a ten or whatever the highest thing on the fucking form is if they’re brough in via ambulance and survive.”

“People come in by ambulance for really stupid things that don’t really require us saving them,” Whitaker observes.

“And people walk in with injuries they really should have come in an ambulance for,” Robby shrugs. “It would even itself out.”

“Exactly,” Jack nods. He looks back over at you for a second and then stands up. “I’ll be back.”

“Sure you will,” Robby drawls, smirking.

Jack ignores him as he starts walking over to you. “Hey,” he says to the group as he reaches you, sets his hands on your shoulders from behind and squeezes. You feel a little better already, just from being closer to him. The rest of the group continues chatting as he leans down to speak just to you. “Take a walk with me for a few minutes?”

You furrow your brows, tilt your head and look back a little to see him. “Um, sure. Is there a reason why? Are you sure? It seemed like you guys were having a good conversation.” You flick your head towards Robby, Shen and Whitaker.

“I’m sure. And does there need to be a reason why I want to take a walk with my girl?” He turns his head a little more and places a soft kiss just below your ear.

My girl. Even though you’ve been together for a while now it still makes you a little dizzy to hear.

“No, I guess not.” You give him one of those fake smiles and he knows it’s not because you’re trying to fool him, not really, deep down you know better than to even try by this point, but because you’re in public. Have to keep up appearances.

“Well I know not, so.” He leans back up and moves his hands from your shoulders. “I’m stealing her for a minute.” He nods at the group. It pulls some smirks but nobody says anything, they all just nod. As you get up Jack finishes off the little bit of cider left in the bottle you were nursing.

Once you’re up Jack laces his hand with yours and leads you over to the park’s path, walks down it a ways with you in silence before pulling you off it. He walks with you on the grass until you come to a spot where the ground starts to slope down, the top of a little hill that provides a nice view of the sun setting over the city. You’re more than far away enough that nobody can hear or see you.

“What’s up?” You titter a little, clearly a bit nervous.

Jack nods at the ground and you both sit, feet out in front of you, grass and soil dry from the heat of the day. “You were totally spaced out and not really there.” He eyes you carefully. “You’re back now, for the most part, but I wanted to see what’s up away from everyone.”

You push your bottom lip out a little and shrug, shake your head. “I’m f-” Jack gives you a look. “I don’t even know why I bother trying,” you mutter.

“Neither do I. But I get it. Wanting to hide it and not let me see because you know I don’t like seeing you upset. I feel the same.” He squeezes your leg gently and doesn’t press when you’re quiet for a bit as you think of what you want to say.

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know?” you murmur. You already know the answer but you’re using the question as an answer itself.

“Yeah.” Jack pauses and cocks his head at you, catches your eyes and holds your gaze as he speaks. “Would you believe me if I told you it was okay not to know?” He already knows the answer but he’s using the question to tell you it’s okay.

You let out a breath through your nose and shake your head a little as you look away from him and out at the city, Jack doing the same. “I know it is. Rationally. But the irrational side of my brain doesn’t.”

You see Jack nod out of the corner of your eye. He gives you space to think, sits in the background buzz of the park with you, hand running up and down your thigh to ground you, remind you he’s here.

“I’m just sad.” You shrug. You aren’t teary, don’t even have the urge to cry at the moment. It’s a hollow sadness. One that just vaguely aches and makes you tired. “There’s no reason for it. Just am.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that’s okay too?” Again, he knows the answer but uses the question to make the point.

“Is it though Jack?” You reply quickly. It surprises him, catches him off guard.

He turns back to study your face, see if he can read what this is from your profile. He has a feeling he knows where this is going.

“It doesn’t feel okay,” you continue. “Not even for me, but for you. It’s not fair to you. For me to just randomly be sad sometimes and unable to explain why. Because fuck Jack, I just want to sit here and be sad. I just want to sit here and be sad and maybe cry if I can get past whatever fucking emotional brick it is that’s stopping me from doing so. But what I don’t want is for you to have to sit here with me in it.”

Jack lets your words hang in the air for a few seconds so that you know he’s really listening and taking them in, but not so long that it feels like he’s having to think of a response.

“It is okay. I promise you it is.” As much as he loves eye contact he knows it would be a little too much for you right now so he doesn’t push you to look at him or try to catch your gaze. “And it’s okay for us to just sit here. We can just sit in the sad. I hate seeing you be sad and struggle, yes. But sometimes you just need to sit here and feel it. And I want to be there next to you when you do. You don’t have to be okay and happy all of the time. You’re allowed to just sit here and be sad or whatever emotion you want to be. You don’t constantly have to be working towards being better when you get sad like this. We can stay here for a bit. I’m not going to let you or us unpack and move here, but we can visit sometimes. You can feel whatever it is you need to feel in front of me and with me. I want you to.”

You let out a shaky breath. You know that what he’s saying is true. At least part of you does. But it’s so hard to accept.

“And there are very few things in life that I have to do anymore, sweetheart.” He gives your leg a little squeeze before resuming running his hand up and down it. “You’re not holding me hostage or keeping me here against my will. I know I don’t have to sit here with you while you’re sad and don’t know why. I don’t feel like I have to. I choose to. I choose to sit next to you here in the sadness the way you do for me when I want to sit and be sad and not know why. I choose you.”

“You should choose better.” It’s whispered. “You deserve better.”

Jack starts shaking his head before you even finish the word better.

“Yes, Jack, you do,” you say before he can get anything out. “Because you’ve been through so much already. You deserve to be with someone better. Someone easier to love who isn’t constantly putting you through shit like this. I know you love me, Jack, I promise. I never doubt that. But sometimes I don’t understand why you love me. Why you love me when I can be so fucking awful and all over the place and sad randomly for no reason. Do you see that Jack? Do you really see me? What you put yourself through by loving me?”

Jack’s hand stills and squeezes your thigh again, longer this time, but still at the perfect pressure. He hurts, physically, his heart hurts seeing you like this, hearing your voice and knowing how much you mean what you’re saying. He hates it. He wishes he could take away your pain. But he can’t. All he can do is try to help and try to make you feel a little better and at the very least not let you be alone in it.

He adjusts his position so that he’s turned toward you a bit more, the side of one of your legs and one of his pressed together.

“Darling, the way you see and feel about yourself is not the way I see or feel about you. Just like the way I see myself and feel about myself is not the way you see or feel about me. We’re our own worst critics, as fucking cliché as that shit is. And I love you and mean this with all the love in the world, but you’re right. You can be awful at times. But the only person you’re ever awful to is yourself. Like you are right now.” You can feel tears start to form behind your eyes at that. Not because it’s mean and his words have hurt you. Because he’s right and you know it.

He takes in a deep breath and looks out at the city for a moment before his gaze returns to you. “I don’t put myself through anything by loving you. I’m not burdened by loving you. And of course I see you, I always have,” he says with a heavy conviction. “You think I fell in love with you by accident? Or blindly? With my eyes closed?”

You swallow thickly, can feel his eyes on you. “No.” Tears sting at your eyes now. “But still. You shouldn’t have to do this with me. I shouldn’t be work. But I am.”

“Oh honey,” Jack breathes out softly. He takes a second and then shifts, sits a bit further up and grabs your legs, pulls them diagonal a bit and you a little closer so they can rest on top of his and you can look at each other better.

“I need you to listen to me, yeah? Really listen.” Jack holds your face with his hands, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones for a second while he looks you in the eyes. “Loving you is not the chore that your past has made you think it is.” He squeezes your face a little. “It’s not a chore at all. It’s a fucking privilege.”

That gets a few tears to slide down your face and Jack’s thumbs are quick to wipe them away.

“And I know you can’t see that, and that you might never be able to see that. But it’s okay, because I do. And I will tell you it over and over and over and over until you understand why Robby tells me nicely to shut the fuck up sometimes.” He gives you the smallest knowing smirk.

You laugh at that, and it’s watery, and through your tears, but it’s real. You love the way he does that. Knows when to instill just enough lightness into this serious of a conversation to keep you grounded and from getting completely overwhelmed, but also knows when it’s not appropriate in a serious conversation.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper through some tears and shrug at him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jack whispers back. He leans in and kisses your forehead, lets his lips linger there before pulling them away and resting his forehead against yours.

“You have to repeat this speech a lot.”

“I know.” He says it so matter of fact as he pulls his forehead from yours to look at you better. His hands leave your face and take yours in his, fingers tangling together.

“It makes me feel really bad. Like it’s going to push you away. Or like you’re going to think I don’t trust you or your love or-”

“I don’t think that, nor will I. I understand, baby. I really do. Because I feel the same way sometimes. I don’t care that you need reassurance at times. It doesn’t make me feel like you’re questioning me, or my love, or our love. It doesn’t make me feel like I’m the problem or somehow doing something wrong or not doing enough or anything else. It makes me feel like sometimes your brain’s chemicals get a little fucked up. And you know what? So do mine. I think we’ve had this conversation at least a time or two with the roles reversed. I think you have to repeat a version of the speech I’m giving you right now a lot. And do you care?”

You shake your head gently. “No. I would give you it every day if you needed me to.”

“Guess what?” he whispers.

“So would you?” You give him a little pout and big doe eyes that show how much you love him and it’s so adorable he has to smile a little.

“Yeah. So would I.”

He leans back in but this time he gives you a kiss on the lips, lingers just long enough before he breaks it and nuzzles his nose against yours. You keep your eyes closed as he pulls away, a little smile on your face. You open your eyes just in time to see the nearly beaming smile it pulls from Jack.

The two of you sit there for a few more minutes before you finally turn to look at him. “We should go back.”

“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows at you. “We can stay longer.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m ready.” Jack nods, gently moves your legs off his and stands up before holding both hands out to help you up.

Instead of taking your hand and starting to walk back though he slips his arms around you, slides his hands in your back pockets and pulls you right up against him by your ass. He raises his eyebrows and smirks a little, a slight bobble of his head when it makes you gasp in surprise.

His hands leave your pockets and slide up so that they’re wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him. You rest your hands on his chest, look up at him knowing he wants your eye contact. Jack smiles when you give it to him.

“I see you. I see all of you. Even the parts you don’t want me to see. The parts you’ll never show anyone else. And I did before I fell in love with you. And I still chose to jump head fucking first into being in love with you and even right now, sitting here in the sad with you, I’d make the same choice without a second thought.” One of his hands comes to hold your jaw, thumb on one side of your chin, his other four fingers on the other side, index finger right in front of your ear and the other three just below your ear and on your neck. “I choose you. All of you. Not just the you that you like and think is good enough. I choose all of you because I love all of you and I know that all of you is more than good enough. I choose you and I will always choose you and I know I’m lucky to get to make that choice. I love you.”

Jack kisses you then, hand tightening just a little to hold you still for him. They’re chaste at first but turn deeper, his tongue running over one of your lips, a silent question. You let your hands run up his chest and over his shoulders before sliding your fingers into his hair, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck and open your mouth for him in silent answer, just enough for him to slip his tongue in and taste you, let you taste him. The taste of you pulls a groan from deep in Jack’s chest and you shiver. You only pull back when you’re desperate for air and Jack chases your lips with his. It makes you giggle.

You can feel him smile against your lips as he rests his forehead against yours again.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “And I choose you too. I love you.”

“I know.” You feel him smile a little wider against your lips before he gives you another kiss.

You bite your lip as he pulls away, let your eyes open back up slowly to his grin. Jack grabs your hand and leads you back towards the path.

It hits you a few steps in. “You taste like cider.”

“Yeah,” Jack nods.

“You don’t like cider. You don’t drink it.”

“Yeah,” Jack shrugs slightly. “But I was drinking beer and you hate the taste of beer. And I knew I was going to kiss you like that so when you got up from the table I finished off your cider so you wouldn’t taste the beer on me.”

You beam up at him and he just smiles, can feel your happiness. He knows it hasn’t made it all better, that you might still be sad overall, that it might linger for a while.

You walk in a comfortable silence for a minute until you break it.

“They’re going to think we fucked, probably.” You smirk a little at Jack.

“You wanna play into it?” He’s so unfazed and stoic about it. So Jack. “I can go grab some little twigs to put in your hair, a leaf, some grass.”

You burst out laughing. Properly. Fully. Real.

“Twigs?!” For some reason him saying the word twigs is hysterical to you.

“There’s my favorite sound,” Jack laughs with you. “Well, one of them, anyway.”

“Oh?” You glance up at him as your laughter trails off.

“You would have been making another one of my favorite sounds if we had in fact fucked,” he says nonchalantly, swinging your hands a little.

“Oh,” you breathe. You can feel the smirk radiating off him. “Do you have more favorite sounds?”

“Course.” You see him nod out of the corner of your eye. “You saying my name. You saying you love me.” He squeezes your hand. “And the sound of your heartbeat when I rest my head on your chest.”

You bite your lip at that. It’s so sweet it almost makes your heart ache. “Awwwww!” You squeeze his hand and lean into him. “You’re such a romantic, pookie.”

“Ha!” The pet name catches him by surprise. “No.” Jack shakes his head at it, but his smile gives him away.

“Pookie is cute!”

“Do you understand the actual level of shit I would get from Robby if he ever heard you call me pookie? I’d have to get a new best friend and a new job.” You giggle at him. “You’re laughing but I’m serious.”

“I’ll go into work with you one day this week and conspire with Myrna to come up with an even better nickname than fruitcake for Robby if you’ll let me call you pookie sometimes.”

Jack stops walking and looks down at you, pretends to eye you up for a second before giving you a little smirk. “Come up with something really good that’ll drive him up a wall and I’ll consider it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm so sorry but the thought of hearing him say twig just sent me at the time I wrote this. I have no idea why. Anyway, I hope this was okay and you enjoyed and thank you so much for reading!!

You can find my Masterlist here for more Jack! Requests are closed while I catch up, but apparently if you just send in an ask with your thoughts about Jack I may be inspired and write something! I love chatting with you guys and likes/reblogs/replies are super appreciated and motivating!

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melodyofmbaku · 2 days ago

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Pour Me Another Lie (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)

Preview: “You’re doing good baby. Keep that up, Smoke’s gonna be nice to you. Gonna be real nice and give you what you want.” Stack encouraged with a kiss to her tear stained cheek.

Word Count: 2.25k

Warning ⚠️: They're a Trio. Smut (18+ Material) + Angst

A/N Ya'll loved the boys and Annie together as a trio in Her House, Her Rules. So heres more!🤠💁🏾‍♀️ ____

“I ain’t know Annie’s working Hank’s bar now.”

Cornbread was in the barn unloading the last batch of beers the boys had ordered and trying to make conversation while Filly stacked bottles behind him.

Smoke sat at the bar, flipping through a ledger. Stack leaned over the back of the couch, scribbling on a clipboard, mid-count.

Upon Cornbread's comment, there was a shift.

Smoke’s back straightened. His hand froze mid-air, glass halfway to his lips. Stack’s head turned slow like he hadn’t heard right, then let out a dry, humorless laugh.

“What you mean?” Stack asked.

Cornbread scratched his head. “I saw her. Earlier today. When I was dropping off at Hank’s. She was behind the bar. Serving.” He said it plain, like it wasn’t a live grenade.

The boys shared a look before Stack started.

“That wasn’t Annie. Because Annie dont work, do she Smoke?” Stack shot at his brother over his shoulder.

“Annie don’t work.” The older responded flatly.

“That’s right. Cuz Annie ain't got no bills. Annie got any bills Smoke?” He asked his brother.

“Annie ain’t got no damn bills.” The older confirmed.

A picture was forming now. Smoke didn’t like it. Hadn’t thought much of how she’d been slipping out in the afternoons lately—just as they were settling into sleep. Kissing them both goodbye like it was nothing.

Back by eleven. Smelling like sweat and sugar. He’d chalked it up to her wandering ways. She got restless. But she didn’t work.

Smoke stood from his stool, slow and measured. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But Cornbread wasn’t the lying type. The man was many things, but not a liar.

He stalked closer as Stack kept going.

“Annie don’t pay bills. So she don’t need to be working for no money. Definitely not for no damn Hank, and especially not serving no drinks.” Stack concluded.

Cornbread rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t trying to stir anything up. He just figured they knew. He let out a breath and tried to explain.

He’d been hauling crates with Filly—usual route. Made the stop at Hank’s around 5. Sun had teeth that day, hot on the back of his neck.

Inside, the bar was its usual dark, sticky self. And there she was.

Annie, behind the bar like she’d always been there. Dress stuck to her back, brow damp. Laughing at something Hank said.

She didn’t see him.

He wanted to wave. Say something. But Filly was already honking the horn, yelling about the next stop.

So he let her be.

“I ain’t lyin’. You can ask Filly too,” Cornbread said, nodding toward the young man hauling in the last crate.

“Yeah, that was Miss Annie at Hanks, can’t miss that laugh of hers.” The boy shared a smile, not knowing what he was walking into.

Silence fell thick as a quilt.

Smoke’s jaw flexed. Stack clapped a hand on Cornbread’s shoulder.

“Preciate you for stopping by.” Smoke said, a tight smile on his lips and a prompt for the man to hit the road.

“You’re a good man, Cornbread.” Stack said as he started him towards the exit.

Cornbread hesitated at the barn door. “She ain’t in trouble is she?”

“Trouble? Nah, she not in no trouble.” Stack replied, smiling with his golds peaking out.

But for some reason, Cornbread had a feeling she had walked straight into it.

___

Earlier that day…

The house was still, heavy with the kind of silence that only came when the boys were down for the count.

Smoke and Stack had come home just before dawn—fed and full, stretched out like kings in the wide bed they shared with her. By the time the sun crept through the curtains, they were out cold, deep in the kind of slumber that wouldn’t break for hours.

Annie sat on the edge of the bathtub, taking her twists down and fluffing through her curls with slow, idle movements. The house was too quiet. She looked at the clock—just after noon. She’d already done her chores. Her hands itched for something else.

The days were long now. And with the boys sleeping till sundown and business slow this week, Annie had too much time to think. She’d stopped by Hank’s the day before to drop off a tonic for his gout, and he’d looked at her with those tired eyes and said, “Wish I had someone with hands like yours behind the bar. Just till Margie gets back.”

She hadn’t answered then. But now, hours into silence, she found herself slipping on a cotton dress and pinning her hair back. Nothing fancy—just a shift dress and low heels. Something easy to move in.

“I’ll be back before they even wake up,” she murmured to herself, grabbing her purse. “Just a couple hours. Help Hank out. Stretch my legs.”

She left a note on the kitchen counter, though she doubted they’d see it. They never looked for notes—they looked for her. The words she wrote weren’t a lie, not exactly. But she left out the part about where she was going—and why she wouldn’t be back before sundown.

Annie was in trouble.

Stack’s eyes bugged out. “You seeing this?”

Smoke didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

Smoke was seeing it. He saw Annie—there, behind a bar, pouring a drink for a patron. Wearing that soft cotton dress she liked, sleeves rolled up, hair pinned. She looked pretty. Capable. Like she belonged.

And that made it worse. Smoke made it clear early on that he never wanted her to have to answer to another man for money. He would make sure that she would never have to. He had a big thing about taking care of his family. Taking care of his woman.

He loved that Annie made her own money and pursued he own passions. Smoke nurtured that entrepreneurial spirit in her, helped her with her business. And she made a fair amount from it. He’d pay for whatever herb she needed that grew across the country to be delivered. Just so that Annie could hone in on her craft and work on new treatments for her customers.

But where she stood right now? This wasn’t her business. This wasn’t her passion. It was the antithesis of everything Stack wanted for his woman. A threat to what he believed made him a man.

She spotted them just a second too late—two shadows seated at the back of the room, dark and still. Her heart sank the moment she met Smoke’s eyes. Stack’s face was easier to read—surprised, maybe even a little amused—but Smoke? He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared.

The boys had picked a table in the back of the venue, tucked away from view but still with enough of a vantage to see the action.

She dropped the towel and ditched the apron with haste and headed over the the boys table.

“I’ll meet y’all at the house,” Smoke said, voice flat.

“Smoke, I can explain,” Annie called out, taking a hesitant step toward him—but he was already turning away, flagging down the stock boy.

“Where’s your boss at?” Smoke asked. “I got somethin’ for him.”

Stack shook his head as he looked at Annie with a little pity. He personally wasn’t too fussed with Annie working. As long as the patrons kept their hands to themselves and Annie stayed strapped he thought she’d be fine.

But Smoke? That was a different story. Stack knew how his brother felt about their woman being in someone else’s domain.

The way Smoke acted, you’d think she was on the damn pole.

Stack stood and stretched like he’d just finished a meal. “Let’s go, sweet bits,” he said, gently placing a hand on the small of her back to steer her toward the exit.

She resisted for a second, glancing back—hoping, maybe, that Smoke would stop her. Say something. But he was already disappearing behind the swinging doors.

Stack almost felt bad for Annie. Almost.

He wasn’t really mad—not the way Smoke was. He didn’t mind her working, not in theory. But working for another man in a place like this? And doing it behind their backs? That was where things got sticky.

She might’ve been able to get away with it if she opted for being a seamstress. But a damn barmaid? Stack wouldn’t be able to save her from her brother's wrath even if he wanted to. The duo left the bar as instructed and headed home.

They were in the bed awaiting her fate as Stack pulled Annie back against his chest, his arms snaking around her to cup her breasts with slow, greedy hands.

First he just held them, they were heavy and he loved that.

“I could play with these — with you — all day.” He felt her relax into him. This would take her mind off of things until Smoke got back. Quell any anxiety.

Slowly he began to rub her nipples between his fingers expertly. He was in his element and she was in heaven. He paid attention to her breasts and all she did was lean back and whine. Like a princess. At times her hands overlapped his as she joined him in teasing her tits.

“You like that mama?" A kiss to her cheek "I know you like it when we give these girls attention. You're greedy for it.”

She could feel his dick pressing against her back and her mouth watered. She slid her hands behind her back to grasp at the man’s covered cock. She listened as Stacks voice hitched.

“Oh baby you’re so sweet, tryna take care of me.” Stack looked at his watch, did they have time? Could they have a little fun before his brother came back?

“We gotta be fast.” he said but before they could get into it they heard the front door slam.

They paused their play for a moment when they saw Smoke walk into their bedroom and shut the door.

He didn’t regard them. He slowly began to remove his cuff links and roll up his sleeves.

As he was undoing his belt he looked up and locked eyes with Annie. Perhaps the only time he’d done so that night.

“You wanted to be seen, didn’t you?” Smoke asked. His voice was quiet, not cruel. That made it worse.

Smoke walked straight toward her — slow, deliberate, without saying a word. He knelt between her legs, ignoring Stack's hold on her, and slid his hands up her thighs to pull her hips forward, closer to the edge of the bed. His grip was firm. Possessive. It was a silent claim, and it told her everything words hadn’t yet said.

He shoved her dress up to her hips. She knew this was her moment. To plead her case — to appease Smokes anger.

“Smoke — I can explain —“

“Shhhh”. Stack whispered in his wife’s ear.

In response she struggled in his arms. Stack held her close to his body with a smile.

“How about you show Smoke your pussy baby? I think he wants to see how greedy she is.”

She shook her head and tried to close her knees and avoid Smoke's hot gaze.

Stacks hands were fast. Dropping from her tits down to her thick thighs quickly.

“No, no. Keep em open.” His hands forced her knees back apart, for her sex to be exposed to his brother's view.

“Be good.” Stack murmured —

“She hasn’t been,” Smoke said coldly, without looking up. “That’s the problem.”

When Smoke placed his mouth on her sex she threw her head back, eyes raised to the sky. She could feel him in every part of her body. His tongue expertly licked her from her clit to her opening snaking through her folds to sip every drop of her essence.

She didn’t know if she wanted to cry or thank him.

“Look at Smoke Annie. He tryna teach you something. He’s showing you what happens when you don’t listen.”

Smoke worked with experience and precision. He knew his woman and all her parts. Knew how she liked to be touched. It wasn’t long before she was on the brink of an orgasm, and then he just… stopped.

She gasped, and there he was, on his knees looking her straight in her face. Her lip trembled.

A tear slipped of her eye and began a trail down her face. Stack licked it.

Annie began sobbing. She could tell what kind of night it was gonna be.

“Smoke only tryna help you baby. He’s doing it cuz he loves you.” he crooned into her ear before kissing her cheek.

Almost satisfied with her ruin Smoke went right back to work licking into her sensually.

Stack matched that and began to play with her nipples once more. He pulled them, obsessed with how she responded when he did. The pain bit and then subsided and her shallow breaths encouraged him to keep going.

She gasped. “Please.”

“Smoke’s still mad about that bar,” Stack whispered. “But he’ll forgive you. He always does.”

Throughout this entire ordeal. Stack was his brother's mouthpiece. The older hadn’t said many words. Annie didn’t know where his head was at.

“He’s quiet, huh?” Stack whispered, grinning.

And it continued like that. Smoke sipping from her pussy and bringing her to the brink of her pleasure before stopping and starting back up again. He made sure to look her in the eyes when he stopped right before she orgasmed.

He wanted to see her disappointment. Her frustration. For her to feel like how he was feeling right now.

He kept her desperate and wanton with his ministrations on purpose. It was pleasure and punishment all at once.

“Stack please. Please —“ She begged with little reservation. “I need it.” “Please let me cum.” She wailed as he her brought her right to the edge before pulling away and sitting back. Watching the confusion ripple across her face once more.

“You begged them like that too?” Smoke asked, still between her thighs, voice low. “You make those sounds for them?” His grip on her thighs tightened.

It dawned on her once again that he’d left her hanging. He turned his attention right back in to suck on her clit. He rubbed his tongue against it, lapping at it, savoring the noises that came from her lips as a result of his wicked actions.

But then she moaned his name. Not Stack’s. His.

It broke something in him.

Smoke growled low in his throat, and for a second the precision was gone — replaced by hunger, raw and unchecked. His fingers sank deeper, rougher. His mouth moved like he needed her to cry out again, louder this time, for him.

“Say it again,” he rasped against her sex. “Say my name like you mean it.”

And she did. Over and over again.

Still he persisted. At a certain point in the evening Annie stopped begging and started repenting.

“I’m sorry daddy. I’m so sorry.” Now they were getting somewhere.

Smoke paused. He didn’t look at her. But she felt the way his hands softened, just slightly, against her skin.

“Good,” he finally said before diving back into her sex, fingers curling inside her.

“Smoke I — I’m sorry.” She let out desperately. Her head flung back. She wanted him to hear her. She meant it.

“You’re doing good baby. Keep that up, Smoke’s gonna be nice to you. Gonna be real nice and give you what you want.” Stack encouraged with a kiss to her tear stained cheek.

Hearing her apologies and desperate breathless whines worked to subdue Smoke’s anger. He could feel the anger subsiding — sliding back into himself. The teasing wasn’t in vain. She was seeing the error of her ways.

When he had had his fill of her moans and apologies, he decided to give in.

“Annie.” The first word he’d said in a while. Her eyes were unfocused.

“Look at me.” And she did. He held her gaze as he stroked her insides with his two fingers and thumbed at her clit.

She could feel it coming, coupled with the way Stack tweaked her tits and the way pleasure was building in her chest. She was almost scared of how her orgasm would take her. Scared of the feeling that was to come. Still she held his gaze.

She mouthed the words ”Please” but no sound came out. The one final suck of her clit into his mouth did it and sent her over tumbling over the edge.

She bucked and Stack was startled for a moment before he held her body to himself as her orgasm crashed over her. She was a fucking wonder.

“Look at you. Look at you.” Smoke praised softly as she wailed — the sound came from deep within her. It was primal. Through it all, Smoke stayed on his knees, between her legs to lap at the essence that freely flowed from her.

In a way, at that moment all of them could sit back a little easier. The tension in the room melted alongside her orgasm. As if they experienced the same oxytocin she did. They waited for her to catch her breath.

Slowly — Smoke stood up.

He gripped her chin softly and looked down at her. She was wrecked. Her lips were parted and her chest moved up and down. His thumb skimmed her kiss swollen bottom lip.

“Open your mouth.” He spoke softly.

Annie opened her mouth almost immediately. Like she was craving what would come next. Like she was hungry for it — for him.

Her eyes locked with his as he spat into her mouth.

“Keep it open.” He spoke once more.

And she did.

Smoke wanted to see. Wanted a visual on how they — how he — owned her. And how she wanted to be owned too. It was reciprocal. The two held each others gaze, almost communicating to one another through micro expressions.

You hurt me. You’re mine and nobody else’s.

I love you. I’m yours. I'm sorry.

“Swallow.” She closed her mouth and her eyes and swallowed what he’d given her.

Stack scrunched his nose up. “Ya’ll nasty as hell.”

“Smoke?” She breathed. He crouched down and pushed the tendrils of curls out of her face. Her hand reached out to him seeking connection and he was quick to hold it. To rub his thumb over her knuckles and comfort her. To place a chaste kiss on her hand.

He looked up at her frame. She wasn’t in no state to have any kind of conversation right now.

“Yes baby?” he loved her so fucking much it was scary. His Annie.

“ I never —“ she started before her cut her off.

“Tomorrow mama. You're okay. You rest. We’ll talk all about it tomorrow.”

He reached up and placed a kiss on her head. It was shiny with perspiration but Smoke didn’t care. She was his.

She sat back into Stacks chest getting comfortable as Smoke went in and wiped her down with a rag.

They settled into a soft and comfortable silence. There was a reverence in the air.

Stack stroked her hair and placed light kisses behind her ear.

Smoke began whispering sweet proclamations of love into her skin. Almost in worship.

“You did so well.”

A kiss on her ankle.

“You’re perfect.”

A kiss on her knee.

“We love you so much.”

A kiss on the inside of her thigh.

Annie basked in their love, letting the feeling wash over her — filling her heart with warm affection.

Smoke’s position at her feet pouring praise into her skin felt symbolic. Despite what transpired that night, it was her who owned them.

He rose to see her face.

“You’re ours, Annie,” Smoke said softly, brushing her curls back. “Don’t make us doubt that again.”

Whatever happened today? It was water under the bridge. They’d talk about it tomorrow. She’d worked hard tonight — paid her penance.

She was loved, safe, and protected under the watchful and attentive eyes of her partners.

The hurt had been seen. The apology had been heard. The slate, quietly, was clean.

And with that knowing, she let slumber take her over.

____ Interested in my future works? Let me know if you'd like me to add you to my tag list. My other works can be found in My Masterlist. Thanks for reading! ___ Taglist @chaneajoyyy @pyraomen @browngirldominion @sarcastic-sunshines

#sinners fan fic #sinners fanfiction #annie x smoke #black!fem!reader #black!reader #smoke moore #smokestack twins #stack x reader #smoke x reader #annie and smoke #smoke x annie #melodicfic #black writer #black reader #my fic #sinners writer #stack moore #smoke x annie x stack

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paintedrecs · 16 hours ago

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"Creative inbreeding" is such an apt term. It is, quite frankly, why I've pretty much given up on reading fantasy YA for the time being. A lot of the popular ones I'd been picking up - widely discussed, pretty covers, interesting summaries - are nearly indistinguishable from each other in terms of actual writing style.

Lead characters with copy/paste personalities. A love interest that hits all the popular tropes, even if the relationship doesn't really work within the story structure. A narrative arc that hits all the key stops along the way, like it's following a map. The same types of descriptions of food, clothing, towns, etc. I set the book down when I'm done and can't even remember who the author was without flipping back to that nicely illustrated cover.

I don't mean to criticize the authors, because obviously they're working hard, and it's amazing that they got their books out into the world. I'm just...tired of reading so many of the same stories, with different hats.

Part of it, I'm sure, is that people are writing what they think sells - and agents and publishing houses are probably picking up specific stories for the same reason. It's like Disney doing endless remakes of stories that were originally something creative and inspiring.

But you can tell when you're reading something that's sort of just...cobbled together from all the other books that person has encountered from within the same exact genre. They're assembling bits of everyone else's voices instead of developing their own. It might be readable, but it's not terribly memorable.

In one of my college lit classes, our final exam was to read excerpts from various literary works and write a short essay response identifying the authors and explaining our reasons. It wasn't a test to check whether we'd read and memorized everything by these authors - it was to see how closely we'd been paying attention to the ones we had read and discussed in class.

For instance, the Jack London excerpt wasn't from White Fang or The Call of the Wild - it was a paragraph from a short story we hadn't read, where you could pick up on setting, style, themes, tone, etc to say hey...I think this was probably written by him.

I still remember that exam because it was a pretty cool exercise that showed how distinct an author's voice can be, even for ones that carry over into different genres. (Jack London is a little bit of a cheat if you go "oh it's set in Alaska.") It's like hearing a song you've never listened to before and recognizing their voice, or identifying a painting without having to look at the signature.

And yes, you can see this in fanfiction, too: I used to enjoy trying to identify authors in fandom exchange festivals, before the anon switch flipped off and they were revealed. Sometimes I was wrong. Sometimes I got it right, and it was so fun!

My favorite fic authors do often have a distinct tone and style that they carry through their writing, even while drawing from canonical sources and keeping it "in character." Just like the paintings from two artists sitting next to each other in front of a bowl of fruit will depict the "same" subject on the canvas, but with their point of view and personality in the brushstrokes.

Which is all just to say that I agree, so strongly, with the need to not only read if you're going to write...but to read widely and across genres. Across time periods and languages, too: I very much recommend reading stories from other cultures and other countries, to develop a wider view of the world.

If you only read modern YA fantasy written by US-based authors, your stories are...going to sound a lot like theirs, even if you don't intend them to.

If you read a ton of fic, you'll probably learn how to write something that aligns well with what everyone seems to like and gravitate towards in fandom. Maybe that's the goal. But even if you don't have the drive or the energy to write or try to publish original works, all the advice from earlier in this thread will help you in fandom.

If you want to write a story that isn't an entirely unique concept but IS your unique voice, you have to develop that voice through wider experience.

I've seen fanfic authors brag about how they never read at all, fic or otherwise...and quite frankly, it shows. You can only improve through practice, and some of that practice includes studying and learning from others, which can really be as simple as just sitting down with a cup of tea and a stack of books.

They don't have to be "literary." They don't need glowing 5 star reviews. They should just be what books are meant to be: a way for you to dive into a whole bunch of different worlds and time periods and discover the huge range of creativity that's out there for you to enjoy.

fascinating that when you tell people "you have to learn the rules to break them" when talking about drawing/painting etc everyone nods and agrees but the second you say "you have to read books if you want to write better" there's a horde of contrarians begging to be the wrongest people ever all of a sudden

#fic talk #writing talk #fandom talk #btw not all writing needs to be marketable #so I don't think this thread is even about How To Write So You Can Get Published #I used to want to be A Published Author #but I don't think I have the desire or motivation to put myself through that process #I do love writing and sharing things with people though #and I want to improve every time I put something out there!#reading helps my own writing improve a LOT #and I hope to continue working at the craft for as long as I'm coming up with stories #and if that involves me having to read a bunch more books #oh no what a sad and terrible fate #i'm gonna go torture myself right now with the book i couldn't finish reading before bed last night

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taegularities · 2 days ago

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candles & flames: breeze | jjk (m)

(final) bonus chapter III: breeze

Summary: One day an end might near – but never with him.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: established relationship, royal!au; angst!!, fluff, smut ➳ warnings: mmmkay, they are at a weird place, but love each other so much; insecurities and sadness, jk grovels a lot, jihyo/illegitimate child mention, tears and overthinking, their kids <3, fears, abandonment issues, dad!jk, brief mention of a past death, yearning, an event, manyyy memories and references to the other parts, mention of post-sex memories, orphanage!!, kissing in the rain, jihyo sigh, oc makes him better fr </3 the ending bc that's what this chapter is </3 ➳ wc: 19.6k ➳ a/n: ah yes, the end of an era :') not sure if it was due to this being the definitive finale or just them in general, but i cried a lot, once again. thank you for giving them the amount of love that you did. i hope you like this one <3 ALSO, listen to the playlist, trust me!! ➳ a/n2: this is a bonus chapter for my mini-series candles & flames. reading the rest of the story helps!! find the mpost below <3 and the collaborative playlist here!

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

It’s interesting how a routine turns every night into the same returning experience.

Somewhat soulless, people awake in the morning, treading through their days and hours to fall back into the deep slumber that their bodies so desperately beg for. Back into the peace from the moment that the sky reveals its stars and its moon.

Then, the cycle repeats: cracking up their eyes at the same dawn or noon as the day before, or when the sun sits at its highest point, greeting and smiling, or hidden.

For you, it’s been different.

The nights always shift their personality, and the mornings unravel yet another unfelt, unseen emotion. Love, then longing, then misery, then near paralysis. Numbness.

You don’t recall ever having been much of a victim to fate; you consider yourself more or less lucky, born under just the right constellation. But something about the odd way your mind has been circling around its own axis for a while now doesn’t feel natural.

An indicator of something bad, and you know. You know the phenomenon and know the reason and know the pain it accompanies.

With the nights, the seasons change, too. The more time passes, the warmer it gets. The cold has left. Left the shivers behind; left your head hanging. The dark and grey clouds floating above have vanished for the most part, clearing like a mist to boast the sky’s beauty.

You love the view. You love how rays of sunshine fall into your room like giving it a halo, golden and warm.

But above all, you have changed the most. In every shape and form, you’re somebody entirely new. As if you’re pottery, forged into something solid before smashed flat again. Inconsistently moving up and down, building and crashing, to the better and worse.

Healing isn’t linear, you have realised. You have known; you have seen it on him before, too. Sometimes, you do ponder whether you’re overreacting. Whether you’re supposed to move on the way so many other women do when their husbands come home late.

But no.

Your husband did not come home late.

You were the one who was late.

He never did you wrong; he didn’t intend to hurt you, did he? And thinking about it realistically: not a soul in this world summons even a fragment of the life you breathe into him. Nobody comes into any close proximity of who you are in his eyes and in his heart and in his mind.

But the pain never subsides so easily. What a shame, though. Your sister always appeases you by insisting that you have every right to hurt; that envy can be part of a deeply-feeling empath, and that love elicits these emotions naturally.

That one day, it’ll get better. That for now, you’re allowed to hate people, and allowed to hate him.

But you don’t. You do not hate him. You guess if you did, it would hurt much less.

It would hurt less to stand in the bit of sun shining through the window, letting it prick your skin. It would ache less to sleep next to him every night; to get up and leave at times, wandering the lonely mansion, just so his touch doesn’t stun your body or keep you awake.

Sometimes, you turn to see him awake, too, tossing and turning. Lifting his lids to meet your eyes wordlessly, at times with the smallest, weakest of smiles.

And it would pain less — stepping over the threshold, silken robe draped around you, and into the spacious room downstairs. It’s brighter than the corridor; the latter would’ve been quieter, darker, but certainly more depressing, too. Colder.

You can’t just roam around there. Weird, though — who knows what dragged you back into this room of all, right where you first broke down; where your perspective changed.

It’s often the same; you tend to land here, as if to relive the moment and to convince yourself that it wasn’t as bad as you make it out to be. Or that it was, but that you need to look past it. You promised Jungkook to work on this, to not give up.

Told yourself that distance hurts more than closeness.

And it does. If you were to pack your bags and leave again, you might not be able to come out of the pitch black void again. At least he’s here; where you are.

You and me, in every damn life.

But you’re in a loop. Still right there, in this heart of his, but so forlorn, too. Always the same shit. If she hadn’t come, life would pain less. If you hadn’t been here, life would hurt less. If, if, if…

If you didn’t love him, you could look him in the eyes. If you didn’t love him, you’d care less. But you do. And you’re tortured by the fact that he constantly seeks your gaze. All the time.

Even now.

Right now, as he stands near the dead chimney, staring up to you from whatever document he was reading. You don’t have it in you to meet the dark brown eyes beseeching you to forgive. Sometimes, you do — in a moment of strength, you do.

But not right now.

And you guess you have forgiven him. You converse with him; but the change is palpable, just like the weather is.

From afar, you watch a smile appear on his still-gorgeous face, though a bit more sunken since last fall. His steps are timid when he nears you, and you mimic, walking towards the man whose arms you so desperately seek.

“Good morning,” he greets, and you answer in kind before he adds, “You still look tired. Do you need to sleep more? I don’t mind, I have a bit of time to take care of—”

“Oh, no, no,” you reassure, coming to a stand in front of him. Your fingers twitch to reach out, but your mind refuses; you hate this constant occurrence. “I feel fine, actually. And Hana will get up soon as well.”

“If you are certain.” Jungkook nods; then rolls his eyes again, more in a manner of amusement and sarcasm than annoyance. “That girl runs to her pony so fast these days that she barely ever acknowledges us anymore. So not a lot to do there for us.”

You chuckle a little. “Isn’t that right?” You observe as his head tilts just slightly; a gesture you well associate with affection. “What about you? You are awake early, too.”

A shrug of a shoulder as a response, no word uttered. He blinks once, just slowly, before his hand surrenders to the urge yours suppressed — and moves up, up towards your face. It happens in slow motion, an unnatural pace to it; but a moment later, you feel the touch.

A palm cradling your face. A familiar, somewhat ancient feeling. Known yet so estranged these days.

You close your eyes. Take in the warmth. Let the delusional relief wash over you for a second. And you feel better; much better when he presses in a tiny bit. You forget the pain still lingering.

Every fibre of you yearns to jump into his arms and to remain right there. To inhale his scent, to feel his lips in your hair, to feel the longing in his touch. And he would succumb to each sensation within a moment, a walking white flag, waiting for you to bring him to his knees.

He has been craving every bit of you in every little way, and you know. You know because you have been, too. But whenever his parted lips linger on your burning cheek, perfectly rosy and inviting and as beautiful as ever, or his thumb grazes your trembling chin, you just…

You trap yourself in this cramped cage of your own miserable thoughts; questions arise.

Such as—

Did he touch her like this, too? What did her skin on his feel like? And did he look at her with the same glint dancing in his dark gems? The same hooded gaze, pining and erasing every other thought, so incredibly desperate; like your own eyes offer oxygen for another day?

And—

How are you different?

This is what has been undeniably wounding you the most. The recurring thoughts you can’t turn off. The queries popping up. The fact that you can’t and won’t ask, and that you know what the answer would be, and that you would still burst your head overthinking.

Jungkook knows you’re drifting away day by day.

He’s crept up on you and learned about every single piece of you, has understood you on a level so detailed that even you can’t quite comprehend about yourself. So it’s only natural that he sees it when your mind doesn’t reside with him.

When you’re in pain. And he is in pain, too — perhaps in greater distress, even. But you have told the petty inner voices that this isn’t a competition; that no matter what the bad parts of you demand, he is not supposed to hurt worse than you. None of you is.

But he’s told you. Told you about the torment. The night you came back, as he held you for dear life, glued to you under the thin sheets until you could barely breathe against the fabric covering his chest, you heard him say—

“I cannot figure out what to do… I— I lost myself once. I wouldn’t recognise myself again if I lost you, too.”

You wonder — did he already know what future to expect if you weren’t in it? The time you were gone; did he see a version of himself he didn’t recognise?

You want to ask, but your mentality keeps slipping. Always absent but deep in his own emotions; you hate that you’re so aware of his thoughts. That even right now, he doesn’t expect you to quite look at him or to reciprocate his touch, even though sometimes, reluctantly, you do.

And he doesn’t expect you to smile. He has never known you otherwise — but he doesn’t expect it, consumed by his guilt. He knows you’re entitled to feel the way you feel. Doesn’t expect you to talk to him as you used to either, or to love him the way he’s always known.

He knows you love him… but he misses the moments when you showed him you were in love with him.

Months and years of affection passed, and the weeks since Jihyo entered your life shattered part of the idyllic paradise you had built for yourself. Covered it in clouds.

Yet, he accepts it. To you, it sometimes seems that he is content that you’re here at all. He won’t tell you what happened, how he felt, what he did while you were away, but it seems that his most prevalent fear is you vanishing again.

As long as he sees you standing here, in flesh and blood and not just in his wanting mind, understanding that you are not a figment of his imagination, he is satisfied.

Then again, you don’t think there is an absolute way of not hurting. So you’re not surprised when he brings you back to where you stand, into this moment, and says, “Hey,” he tries to lift your head, “I miss looking at you properly.”

You try. You meet his eyes. They’re filled with sleepless hours and the same sadness as yours.

You keep looking at him, eyebrows slightly moving, breath accelerating, and say, “I do, too.”

“And I miss your voice.”

“I know.”

“And I want you to laugh again. About anything at all.”

ƒrims Well. Maybe you were wrong. Or maybe not — he doesn’t expect you to smile, but… he can still want it, right?

Your body reacts fully automatically, closing in until your forehead gently collides with his. You hear it when he sucks in a sharp breath, hopeful and so hopelessly adoring, before he whispers, “I love you so much.”

Translates to: I need you back.

Translates to: I need you here.

Translates to: Stay.

For a moment, you keep staring into his pupils. A little longer… and then a little longer. It’s hard to look away; as if they harbour a spell and he’s practicing it right this moment. But then you feel another ache in your heart.

Familiar, but never less painful. The same damn one that your mind and body have been shooting through you, keeping you from giving in.

You move back just a little — but he understands. Accepts that you need more distance, just for a while; that it’ll take time. But as if to tell you he’s nowhere near giving up, he grazes your cheek again, warmth in the back of his fingers; hot as the fire that he is.

When he lets go, you feel breathless. Drowning.

“It seems that our daughter is awake,” he comments. You only now notice her tiny voice. Drowsy little girl waddling to her beloved father. Cheek to his shoulder, quiet in the morning, eyes closed again once she’s settled. He adds, “Let’s get breakfast.”

And you follow, but the appetite isn’t too big. Your heart is still beating in your stomach.

Hana has now learned to express herself enough to ask what’s wrong. She understands basic emotions. Sometimes, you let yourself feel in your twins’ presence alone, solely for the reason that they do not pose questions.

But Hana knows.

And you adore her with everything that you are and everything that she has become; but so does she. She sees it when your eyes droop; notices when her father misses a thing she said or two. When he looks at her with deeply rooted affection, but with dead and stinging pain, too.

You think that sometimes, gaping at her round, bubbly face, he remembers as much as you that she’s not all there is. That she and the boys do belong to his blood, but that somewhere out there, another boy gets all excited about visits every now and then.

A child older than any toddler in your massive mansion, residing in a warm home so small and compact in comparison. At times, you think that your husband knows, too: That sweet Minjun is truly all that has ever defined Jungkook.

The art; the smile; the dimples. The politeness and gentleness.

You take a deep breath.

How does anybody ever get over this? You promised Jungkook to fight, and you will, with time you will because you love him, but…

How will you move past this? Will you stop seeing all that happened in everything one day? Grow out of it, find a way to hold onto him and onto who you are, to hurt less?

“Mama… did you hear?”

“Hm?” You glance at your daughter as she wipes her bangs out of her face, eyes too big on it. She’s holding a toy pony towards you. “Hear what, sweetheart?”

You stretch out a hand, carefully holding the toy in your palm. It’s still beautiful, solid snow white porcelain, albeit missing one of his four legs. Hana cried for a whole while when it happened.

“What I just said!” she tries again, her voice reprimanding, disappointed. Then she sighs, pouts, “You didn’t hear.”

It’s the enormous doe eyes that pierce your heart. When he’s sad, he looks the same. Awakens the urge to protect and to love and to keep him far from even a scratch. You sigh, too; keep yourself together.

“I apologise, baby,” you shift closer to her; she’s a bit older now, more forgiving. Still feisty, but very forgiving. “Mama is just tired. But I’m here, yes? Tell me again, please?”

Whenever Hana starts a thought, she needs to finish it. Your absent mind can’t keep her from it; so she soon turns to you, her voice much louder than yours. “I was saying,” she starts, easy to persuade, “I want to see Tee.”

You laugh.

Tee.

A self-made abbreviation for the term auntie. Somehow, it was too odd of a word for her to pronounce, so she settled on this one syllable to define your sister. She has accepted it; grown to love it, in fact. You guess her name is now simply Tee because Jeon Suhana says so.

“How convenient.” Your laugh dies; replaced by a little jump as his posed, soft voice suddenly joins the room, echoing through it. You give him a small smile. “Right?”

Jungkook walks in with his hands in the pockets of his trousers, two buttons of his dark shirt open. His chest peeks golden from underneath, with light spots of red, as if he rubbed the skin over his heart, soothing it.

The usually lifted collars are falling lazily to the sides; the baggy, loose sleeves rolled just below his elbows.

He looks as breathtaking as he did when you met him all those years ago; when you fell for the soul he revealed. Jeon Jungkook doesn’t fade, in any way at all. He still emanates the same confidence, even in times of desperation. Radiates pure attraction.

You guess people would be fooled by this, fall for the untamed, silky, dark hair if they didn’t know him well.

But you do — and you see the change in hue under his eyes. How the fragile, thin skin is a tad bit darker, and how he usually takes care of his mane so well. The way his strands stick out isn’t his usual appearance. Your husband used to be more put together.

But he’s smiling. For your sake and for hers, perhaps even for his own.

Hana is beaming back at him, though a bit timid in face of the change she’s surely seen in him.

But she couldn’t focus on more than the grand city right now, you know. Somehow, you reckon he planted this thought into her mind. He’s been mentioning an upcoming ball this spring, not too many days from now.

If you went, it’d be an excuse to visit your families again. For him to see his mother, and for you to spend an afternoon with your sister. He’s spoken about this once or twice, told you to think about it.

That—

I, however, understand if it is uncomfortable. If it hurts.

Of course it does. Going back to the one place where he handed you his bleeding, beating heart, yours for taking. But the place where he almost became hers, to. The place you met pain and then embraced love.

You were going to give him an answer soon, and you haven’t, and you know how goddamn unfair it is to him, but…

Your heart has been so delicate, and your tongue too mute to truly verbalise a proper response. Yes or no is all it takes, but you can’t stop pondering about the pros and cons.

“Daddy…” Hana calls, palms on the ground, butt up to lift herself upright. “Daddy, what?”

Ever-the-curious daughter. She probably got this from you. Too many unknown flowers that you picked together.

He lifts his trousers to his ankles and then crouches down to her, on the carpet that the two of you have made yourselves comfortable on. Hana drops back onto it. “We could see Tee, if we can make time, baby.”

If your mother agrees.

“Really?!”

Her legs are folded, her upper body leaning forwards, as if she can’t contain the joy in her little heart. She’s delighted, fists on the carpet, and for a moment, it lifts your spirits.

His eyes shift to yours carefully as Hana does a little victory dance, and you feel a prick in your chest. Is it okay to go back? You want to. You don’t want to. Will your heart withhold the pain and take the weight the trip might bring? Or perhaps the opposite…

“Wait,” Hana interrupts, suddenly solemn, “who will play with Leehi if I go?”

Leehi, her favourite nanny, young and beautiful and gentle. You chuckle, and Jungkook follows before he hums for a moment, responding, “Well, she will certainly miss you. Perhaps you should go and tell her that you might go away for a bit?”

Hana gets to her feet again, still your teeny tiny baby as she lifts a finger and declares with raised eyebrows, “I will tell her to not miss me.”

“You do that, love. Leehi is in your room, making your bed.”

Your daughter bolts away with such determination that you can’t help but laugh; her two braids move back and forth.

And once she’s out of sight, Jungkook plumps down on the carpet, knees pulled in and arms around them. He tilts his head with a tender smile, chest rising before he asks, “Did you have time to think about it? Going home?”

You remember a time not too long ago when you’d sit here like this, too; despite the couch in the back, you’d play with the twins and Hana right here, on this warm carpet, and Jungkook would join after work. You’d place your head on his shoulder and whisper-converse with him.

Sometimes, you’d fall asleep and wake up in his arms, in your bed, with the children secured in theirs. You never needed proof for how gentle Jungkook handles you — but if he could carry you into your room like a feather without disturbing a moment of your sleep, you were at utter peace, right?

He did that to you. He still does; his presence calms you, though it stirs your heart, too.

You want to put your head on his chest again, slumber there. Instead, you nod and say, “I did, yes.”

“And?”

“Hana wants to go.”

His eyes move to the side, down to the floor, then back to you as he tries again, “And what about you?”

You shrug a little. “Can I really refuse my daughter’s wish?”

He moves closer; a very small distance, but noticeable to you. His eyes are intense as he emphasises, “What’s your wish, love?”

Yours? You have a lot of wishes.

Whispered upon falling stars and eyelashes. You can’t utter most of them now, though, can you? But maybe you should. Maybe, rather than the universe, it could be him granting you what you desire.

He can read your thoughts anyway. Because he encourages, “You can share your mind with me. I’m your husband, darling.”

You nod; let something in you break and break until your fingers move, up to one of his knees. He immediately puts a palm onto your digits, holds onto you as you say, “You are.”

“Only yours.”

You inhale deeply. The tears are less these days, but never truly gone. You blink before they can reemerge, quickly adding, “I will go if you want to go. Your wish is my wish.”

“It is?”

“Of course. I am yours, too.”

A fresh colour dusts his cheeks, as if he’s falling in love anew. But his gaze betrays him; still sad when he wonders, “Then… Can I say something very kitschy?”

You feel yourself melt just a little. A hint of a smile graces your face. “Always.”

“My wish is… that I want you back.” He drops his head the moment your heart sinks, too. Even from here, you see the damp waterline. “I want you to be mine the way you were. I wish to give you the same joy I used to. I just…” His voice shakes. “I need my girl back so badly.”

And then, another whisper, stuck in a loop, “I miss you.”

You nod again, tell him, “I know.” Because if you said anything more, you’d cry. You know you would.

He looks up at you, the rims of his eyes red, trapping the tears in. He sniffles; shuts his lids, as if preparing for something. And then asks—

“Do you still love me?”

Do you?

Does he truly need to ask?

His presence still calms you, though it stirs your heart, too.

You love him irreversibly. You love him with an intensity that has nestled into your heart and is here to stay. Jungkook will never leave its crevices, no matter what. You just wish…

You wish you could show these sentiments to him better. Easier.

You’re the only one in your way now.

Mustering strength, you admit, “If I had stopped— I might’ve been long gone.”

He nods right away — it seems to be enough for him. Encourages him. Like he needed the confirmation; like, even for a moment, he’s glad that your life and soul and being are still merged with his. You haven’t strayed as far as he always fears and it relieves him.

Relieves you, too.

He licks his lips, clearing his throat, and says, “If you don’t want to go… we don’t have to, yes? I am sorry for putting pressure on you.”

“No,” you hold onto his fingers, just weakly, “no, we can go. I want to and… It might be a good alternative to the usual routine.”

Another bop of his head before he sees the pony in your other hand, reaching for it. You give it to him, and he inspects it. Comments, “Oh… It broke.”

“Mmh… damaged but still here. Hana makes sure of it.”

Jungkook looks at you. You understand your words; understand the hope behind them. And it makes him smile.

The same smile that you remember from before; the one you saw in the orphanage, in the carriages, in the rain. Months ago when you pestered him in his office until he came to bed with you.

You don’t know if he hears it when you add a quiet mumble under your breath; you guess he registers at least pieces of it as he finds your eyes soon again, so tender and vulnerable and speechless.

Pained and comforted at once as you whisper, “I miss you, too.”

This is far from your first time entering a hall that exceeds all expectations you have of pre-summer events and boasting the riches.

Jungkook and you have hosted parties before and attended even more. The number accumulated over the years; to a sum that made you immune with time. To the lusters and the dances; to the lights and the food.

Never to his touch, but much to the noise and the giggle. Most of the conversations are superficial, and when they’re not, you’re barely part of them. In your town, people respect you, but they have their own little culture that you’re not always too well versed with, up there in your mansion.

And here in this town, you stopped being a true, proper member of the peerage long ago. Even when you’re welcomed with wide arms and open hearts. People encourage you and admire you, but your life has long evolved.

These people don’t know half of it. To them, you’re the co-ruler of a beautiful town, far from here and deep in your own head. Living your days with gorgeous children and a wildly desired husband.

But you have perfected your act. Nobody suspects a thing, and you don’t want them to. So you cling to Jungkook’s arm, a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach when you enter the brightly lit hall and take in what you know.

The place is familiar; many years ago, you flipped to a new page right here, following the same steps. You probably walked the same line to the middle of the room, too, and then up to a dark hallway, meeting Jungkook in a corner before you turned your lives around.

For a while, this spot was connected to memories you would’ve rather forgotten. Tears and pain and betrayal and lies and eventually, the truth. But aches have dimmed over time, despite the fact that neither of you will truly ever forget.

You replaced these miseries. You live through your own and resolve them with a priority unmatched to all you ever experienced.

Yet, this very moment feels different somehow.

It has been years since you danced here together. Months since you danced properly at all.

Back then, there was envy in his touch, you so vividly recall. Affection in his words, concern in his thick eyebrows, fear in his dark brown pupils. Gems, is what they always were, and you would always fall for them; when you’d sneak up to empty rooms or hurt in vacant hallways.

When he was still younger than he is now, and you were, too; when you had so many other issues to forget about, the world seemed much bigger. Like there was hope somewhere out of these walls; and there was.

You were children so in love, inevitably possessed by a powerful force that never quite left you after that. The heartbeat, wild and thumping, never calmed.

All you used to be and all you remained is in your chest and in your mind. On your lips and in your words. No wonder everybody behaves so normally. Who could think otherwise than to be absolutely certain that your days are still the same as they always were?

Jungkook pulls up his arm gently, glove-clad hand lifting up to offer to you. He isn’t interested in conversing with others today. He allows a little greeting or a smile, but he doesn’t indulge in more or divulges his innermost emotions.

And they don’t bother. He isn’t trying, so they don’t either just yet; being a royal plants timidness in other people.

No, what he is focused on is your weak self next to him, knees as wobbly as many years ago. The palm shown to you is beseeching you to come with him, and to do him the honour of being his for another night.

You didn’t ever stop being his, but you don’t need to reveal this to him. Even when he nods a little, moving his hand up just a little to urge yours into it, you know he knows.

But you still accept with soft fingertips lightly kissing upon his warm hand, debunking all possible thoughts of doubts and erasing them out of his mind. And he seems relieved when you gulp down the stress, following your silent husband across the room.

You remain as wordless as you watch familiar and stranger faces float by. You nod when they do, pressing their digits when they reach for yours, a soft and quiet greeting with a smile or, on the other hand, a delighted, “Hello!”

You find your voice when you respond, find it when Jungkook does, reciprocating the others’ eventual, brave curiosity and joy upon seeing the two of you. Hearing him helps you bring your vocal cords back into swing.

And you feel as though you haven’t spoken for ages when you finally tell Jungkook, “You know…” He turns a little, not quite in the middle of the room just yet. “You used to be worried about me rejecting you.”

You aren’t sure why you’re saying this at all. Perhaps because he isn’t fearful of distance anymore — or at least, not the one he used to be afraid of. This is different. Back then, he was scared he’d lose a presence in his life that he hadn’t been able to call his own just yet.

Today, he knows exactly what he’d be letting go.

Maybe he isn’t overthinking it as much as you, though.

Because as you look at him, head a little tilted and carrying a big, dreamy mind, you lose yourself in his twinkle a bit. The smirk is crooked and saccharine, the same old as when the two of you met.

There aren’t that many couples on the dancefloor yet when you reach it, but it seems that you two being one of the few to make the start helps. Inspires others; pre-wedding season is always an interesting event to witness. People are just waiting for an opportunity.

And when his hand reaches the small of your back, body close in front of you, you catch yourself taking in a breath too deep. You’re enthralled when he once again reminds you of the sugary undertone in his voice, so cautious when he says, “You know, I do not think I was ever worried.”

You lift an eyebrow. “You weren’t?”

“Well, worried would be the wrong word. I would rather argue—” He shrugs a shoulder, eyes drifting to the side, to the floor, and then back up to you as he scours his thoughts for a proper term. “You teased me, and I indulged in it.’”

You laugh softly, blinking slowly. Encouraged by the sound of it, he laces his fingers with yours, and you let him. Let him burn your skin through the gloves. Amused, you whisper, “I teased you?”

“You always did, did you not?”

You’re not too certain about this. If he is referring to your little sarcastic taunts, playfully threatening to keep his dance cards empty, he might be right. But you remember more than just this—

“You were the one to make short carriage rides adventurous,” you playfully accuse.

Another chuckle, and you’re nearly sold. As he twirls you a bit, leading you across the shiny floor, you find enough time for yourself to reminisce for a moment. Wherever you went, whenever the world called you to some nearby thing to attend to, his lips would find you.

Innocent or not.

Your clavicles, your neck, the spot behind your ears.

Or — your knuckles, your shoulder, your wrist.

People might have wondered how your love could bud this fast when only weeks had passed back then, but you knew and saw and felt it all. You never questioned any of it.

Jungkook says, “Maybe I should again.”

Hm…

“Maybe you should.”

Weren’t you just as breathless and faint back then, too? You think so. And you think he fared no better, did he?

He’d sigh, too, the moment you arrived at your destination, whispering promises and plans to you through similar symphonies as you are hearing right now. But even with the familiarity of the strings, reality has changed now.

Because as you rock, you don’t hear the cheerful music playing. The strings are dim in your ears and the dancing a reflex. Rather, for you, there is a piano in the background, keys singing the tune of what you were.

The more you talk and the more you listen, the more you see. Behind your eyes, fabricated by your mind, you register all the fleeting pictures of a distant yet vivid yesterday. And some of it still aches, but…

You can’t stop talking, and you can’t stop listening, either.

The nostalgia, paired with the movements dragging your feet across the floor and into his arms, keep catapulting you back to a place you know and one you crave to return to so deeply. But at the same time, you can’t be that young again.

You will always be in love, but you won’t feel the same sickening beginning again. Truths are harsh.

But are they always as thorough as you valued them to be?

Because if you can’t be who you were, why does your heart still hammer like this? If you’re so hurt, why do you still feel transported to another lifetime, like you never really left? As if you’re trudging and wading and crawling through it again to relive it all?

Maybe because you are. Maybe you never truly left indeed.

A voice interrupts your thoughts, the lights coming into focus again. Jungkook’s breath is close to your cheek as he hushes the words, wondering, “What are you thinking about?”

Yes, what are you thinking about?

You’re thinking about a plethora of things; none of which you can arrange into rational, lucid thoughts. Words don’t come easy to you these days, so you rely on what you feel. Rely on your senses.

On how he looks at you. How he touches you. How he speaks to you. And on how he moves.

You swallow again, hoping for your voice to overshadow the violins playing and the piano’s tunes taking form in your head. You tell him, “I am thinking about how gracefully you still dance.”

“Hmm,” he hums, “can that ever change?”

Your left shoulder lifts a little. “We don’t dance as much as we used to. But I suppose not.”

“Or perhaps it can change and I just find it easier with you.”

Your eyes expand a bit, but you don’t know if he sees it.

Easier with you.

With you, of all the people he has known over the decades. A life filled with touches so godless that you can barely wrap your head around still being the only one.

And you try to blend them out so badly. The thoughts of his body swaying as easily with somebody else’s, or hiding in another nook, far from creeping eyes. Feeling another heat on a chilly night.

You are truly trying to focus.

To focus on the heartbeat against your back when he releases you and turns you in his grip. For a moment, he holds you there, against his vest, the buttons cold on your bare arm. Your skin reacts, goosebumps scattered all over, helped by the proximity his lips come into.

They graze your ears, as if he’s doing this to you on purpose; as if he’s attempting to draw out the message your soul delivers. Responding with your name, spelled out by the pumping of his heart. He’s trying to make you receive it.

Every damn second, he has been wanting you to focus on him, and you have been. More so now than ever. On this and this only.

But it’s never easy. It hasn’t been.

You turn back in his arms. Even the piano fades a little now; you barely hear any of it anymore, let him lead you, relying on the pure trust you still put in him. It burns as much as all you see in those eyes of his.

Two tiny flames, red and orange, flickering blue sometimes. Behind them, a dark and sweet and gorgeous void; it still leads to his heart.

You have never seen this much love in anyone’s glance. Except for when he looks at your children, you guess. But this is different. The two of you are always, always different.

Jungkook loves you. Jungkook loves you with all he has and all he ever had and all he’ll be able to give. Jungkook intends to love you to your last exhale, and will love you into the next life; and Jungkook will wait for your soul in order to merge back with it someday, in the great unknown.

No matter who of you leaves this cruel world first — you have never caught him looking at someone like this. Like he will be sitting on his cloud impatiently on the other side, holding onto the fate bestowed upon you.

You know this much. You know the nature of the two of you because you are part of this constellation. So it should hurt less. Eternity should relieve you.

And he understands, too, that you’ll always be here, patient as he watches you come closer step by step, back to him. No matter in which universe and which time; he’ll be there, in an uncertain future and when humanity has changed into something far bigger.

But…

Right now, right where you are…

The same lights, the same light steps. The same love and the same scent announcing the change in season. This place and the memories attached to it; the fragility of your mind and the still fresh wounds to your heart.

They extend in size much too fast, much too ruthlessly.

You unlace your fingers when the sound ebbs down, just in a moment all too fitting to not raise much suspicion. The bodies around you are bowing, chattering, smiling. They don’t notice you.

So you step back by mere inches, parting from him with a frail smile. You offer a slight bow, as well, watching him imitate it with muscles just as feeble. You bring a hand to your face. Touch your cheek first, still feel the heat brushing your skin.

Then, you fan air against it, feigning the warmth that a near-summery event such as this often brings. They won’t know. You breathe out, as if overwhelmed by the heat, and then begin to walk away. But he realises your intentions immediately.

For a second, you see his mouth forming your name. Then, his voice changes, as if you’re the only one who can hear it through the crowd, adding a tiny, “Sweetheart—”

So aware of it all.

But you’re already stepping away because you can’t stop now. Because your feet won’t halt, their heels pressing into the floor as if they’re moving by themselves, carrying you away.

And because the wind outside helps, even if just a tad; even if only until his shoes clack against the floor, their sound all too known to you. He catches up to you right away; not that you expected otherwise. Jeon Jungkook would not stand there and let you go.

Not again.

You hear your name again, wondering about the next syllable to utter. Your mind is obscured, and you don’t want to say the wrong thing, no matter how obviously you just ran away. So you sniffle a bit and then suck in some air, as if to blame the now colder night.

It’s a lie. It’s still pleasant; you aren’t cold despite the still-present gooseflesh. Maybe that’s why you find it so hopeless to contain your silent cries or to wipe away that one stray tear as you respond, “Yes.”

And the moment allows some time again. Time to think back to more that you never experienced, that you’d rather still not be a part of.

Because you still can’t stop comparing. All you ever see is her when he never does. Whenever you think about how much he loves you now and loved you then, you remember that he was in the same halls with her, staring from a far end, hoping for something she could never grant.

That he stood at the same spots in this damned world as the two of you did many years ago — but without them ever further advancing. Because none of them could, not because they wouldn’t. Because they were veiled, forbidden.

You start to pour your heart out the moment you turn to him, at the end of the porch, watching his mouth open to speak. You aren’t prepared and haven’t written a mental speech, so you’ll need to improvise.

Which means, you need to shield yourself as you speak, expecting how pain-struck he looks when you begin, “My mind keeps saying…”

It’s already a miserable start; but Jungkook still urges, “It says what?”

“That,” you clear your throat, so absolutely fazed and dazed when his thumb reaches out, catching the tear only followed by many others, “that it could have been her. That she is still there and—”

You pause to breathe, looking past his shoulder. Nobody else is outside, and you see the crowd through the door. A pair of eyes or two peeks out, but you’re clearly not interesting enough right now. So they diverge their gaze again.

You don’t care about whether somebody sees. You only care about them possibly thinking that he hurt you. That the grand, famous son of the former, beloved duke has done something to break a heart.

You don’t want them to.

So you drop your head, keeping your voice in check as you try to add, “I am afraid that you might start regretting that it was not her.”

Jungkook silences. The lips so close to your ears before are locked now; not because he thinks you’re right or because he’s ever entertained the option of a reality where she replaced your role in his life.

But because he’s told you the truth so many times. Over and over; circling round and round. It won’t carve itself into your mind as it has onto his tongue, words repeated like crazy.

He pauses a little longer; much until you glance up. And despite each of his failed attempts at bringing you back to where you used to be, he refuses defeat and tries again—

“And does this not tell you otherwise? Does it not mean anything? This…”

The thumb wanders from your cheek to your jaw. “That it ended up being you and not her.”

You tilt your head again; it’s different now than from a couple minutes ago. Maybe you truly are being a tease. Giving him hope one second, crying the next. Asking things like, “What does it mean?”

You know. Of course you do. But you’re being selfish for the first time, waiting until he tells you, “That it was supposed to be you. Always, and even now. I can’t tell you how all the days without you pass, but I just…”

A shake of his head, a drop of his hand. His head falls like yours did, and he closes his eyes, bringing two fingers to the bridge of his nose to pinch it a little. You wait. His lips, full and pink, form a circle, breathing out, and then he says,

“I am running out of words.”

Maybe he doesn’t need to add anymore. The former ones still echo. All of them always echo.

The eyes looking at you and the whispers he utters. The stare that wants to bring you the stars. They want to freeze the moment, the wind, the clouds in place — it all echoes his heart.

“Jungkook…”

It’s all your strength allows.

And what else can you say at all?

You can only listen as he pleads again, “Please stay.”

What else can you do? You see him everywhere anyway, hear him all the time. The love never vanishes either way, no matter what the world does to crush you. And you don’t want it to.

You want to remember it.

Even if any of this came to crumble to pieces and left you with merely half of what you’re able to call yours. Even if one day, you were deserted and alone and started forgetting his voice or the way his hands moved or the warmth of his touch, you’ll remember this much.

The intensity of the burning in your stomach as it spreads, a wildfire that consumes. But if you’re smart enough, you’ll listen. You’ll stay. You’ll add to the memories instead of erasing them.

Build a world that’s both old and new to you and leave whatever you survived throughout these months in another universe, one that you didn’t ever live in but solely visited.

You were wrong. His name isn’t all that your strength allows. There’s more left in your wobbly, fragile body. A rising of your chest; a lift of your head, blinking of your eyes; and a step or two, enough to close the distance.

He’s pleading on repeat, the same little request that has accompanied you the past months. Still whispering a little, “Stay,” as he watches you close in, lodged in place because this time, it’s your feet dragging you to him instead of away from him.

You feel it in every fibre when your body collides with his. Head to chest and arms wound around him as if clasping some support to keep you afloat. Your legs, no matter how aflame your heart, are weak somehow; you might falter.

But Jungkook helps you fare better. Keeps you in place when his hand finds the small of your back, slowly, unsurely. Cautious as it drifts up your spine, leaving something in its wake that you missed so fiercely.

You need to stay like this. Just for a while. Perhaps tonight, if you don’t, you might die. With a feeling eating you up, blazing as it could get, and tears rolling down that you’re certain could be acid.

They have been for a bit; everything has been for a bit.

But right now, somehow, somewhat, they’re still as different as you prayed for them to be for so long.

That night, you don’t stay in his humongous mansion that is resplendent in this picturesque town of yours. In truth, Jungkook doesn’t spend much of his nights over there when you visit the place you once knew.

His mother and brother mind less, but to him, the bright walls are tinged with a darkness only he sees, perceptible under the touch of his palms and in the endless, empty hallways.

Instead, you spend an hour of the night staring at the door you grew up gazing at, big and comforting and closed, a portal to your younger years and turbulent moments. Just a minute walk from that door and down the stairs, there is an entrance that Jungkook once stood in front of, begging, stepping over the threshold to touch you just once.

To tell you what you needed to know, without his tongue ever working. And you remember bringing him back here one day then, with a ring on your finger and an arm slung around his. Listening as he told you, looking around, “So cosy.”

“Pretty?”

“Beautiful. And the scent helps.”

You smiled. You had given the kitchen staff an entire list of Jungkook’s favourite dishes. He is an omnivore; he will eat almost anything presented to him, never too picky. Before you were married, he had enjoyed every bite and every drop given to him.

But he was here as your husband for the first time, and you wanted to pamper him as much as he spoiled you daily.

He looked sweet as he sniffed, nose crinkled, dark, dark eyes so enthusiastic and happy. That moment had long killed all the pain you’d felt burning in your blood a year prior, and you knew he’d keep your veins clean and your heart pumping.

And today… years and years after.

It felt different as he came in. This is still his home, too. Your mother loves him. Your father loves him. Your sister, while empathic, no matter what past she shares with him, adores him as her brother-in-law, too.

And despite all the trails of dryness on your face, where the tears flowed, you love him, too.

His calm breathing behind you offers a source of relief. His warmth is palpable under the blanket, the mattress filled. When you came here with Hana last time, you truly noticed how big your bed was and how you’re not used to the space, how you don’t even want it anymore.

And when Jungkook moves, sighing, evidently turning, you close your eyes. If he notices, he will ask why you’re awake, and if you tell him why, you will cry, and you can’t cry again.

Too late, though.

He knows; but he doesn’t ask.

What he does do is touch your waist just a little. The fingertips send a shiver up your sides. Gentle goosebumps and a fiery pain, well-known but so far away that it catapults you back to what you were.

Your throat is clogged when he, well aware of how awake you are, analyses the pattern of your breathing so easily that you should’ve known you needn’t act. He whispers, “May I…”

You don’t answer. Not because you don’t want to, but because you can’t. You want to turn around and cuddle into him, so close to holding the side of his neck and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

But before your body can react, he does, an arm slinging around you when you put a hand over his. He pulls you close to him, a trembling lower lip sinking to your shoulder, and your inhales break.

Quickly, you close your eyes, thinking of the wind in your hair a couple hours ago. It was balm to your heart, the way his hug was; but the sobs echoing in front of the porch added a couple stones to your heart, forcing it heavier.

All these months, you have suppressed your tears in front of him, but by now, there is no need to hide and to pretend. Jungkook never has. Even now, he doesn’t veil a thing — you know when you realise he’s crying, too, shakily breathing in against your shoulder.

Between the silent weeping, you hear his voice whimper. You’re carried away when he holds you closer, still grovelling, delivering a now-rare touch to your clavicles and your jaw, as if to feel your heart and your presence.

And then, he mutters, “I love you. I am so sorry. I love you so, so much.”

The words are quiet, drowned as he presses his lips deeper into your shoulder, into your neck. His tears fall onto your skin, and you shut your eyes tight, letting out the same liquid, mixed with a longing, quiet moan. You don’t need to tell him that you feel the same.

You know he feels it. Feels it in the way you grip his hand. In how your head turns to his, and his fingers pinch your chin, and in the way you look at him. How you let him kiss your nose. Your lips.

In how you finally do put a warm palm to his neck, grazing the hair in the nape of it, mouth close to his as you shut your eyes before he does.

You remain and cry and hope and love until he falls asleep, and you follow.

You basked in the breeze.

It was scented and gentle, like the back of loving fingers caressing your cheeks. The sky was nearly cloudless; spring was slowly setting in. When you had walked the distance to this very spot, the wind howling in your ears had soothed you somehow.

Softly and sweetly; a desired change, along with the welcoming sun rays kissing your face. Warmth and love, a dress swaying. There was something about this world you breathed in that resembled a girl’s fairytale dreams.

So you didn’t mind the bugs or how ticklish the ankle-high grass made you or how hot it was getting by the hour today.

You wanted to be here. You wanted to be surrounded by the old trees, gazing at the paths between them leading to where you stood, amidst the butterflies and flowers and underneath the azure sky.

You were alone.

Saturdays were busy for the mansion and the village; people wandered about and tended to their businesses. Sometimes, they’d indulge in low-labour days and wander to this place. Some of those who could afford horses, would ride here with their kids, take a walk to breathe in the season and the worldly wonders the edge of your town offers.

But not today; and you were thankful.

You kicked the earth underneath your feet, the low boots not high enough or protective of your skin beneath the dress. You had fled from the mansion and the conversations going on. Jungkook was in the parlour and the children were playing with the nanny.

You guess this was the place to be. So you tucked your hair behind your ear, looking around the empty space, and then took a seat despite the wildness of the field. Plucked the grass.

Jihyo was probably still sitting in front of him, legs not nervously pressed together as she used to do when she visited. She crosses them now, her back a little more bent than usual, comfortable with her son and the man she once knew.

When you left, they were still exchanging pleasantries, but you knew it wasn’t long before they’d get to the business he’d promised her. Both of them pleaded with you to stay. To listen in and make decisions with him.

He held your hand until you retracted it, fingers left in his hold, and then, you pulled back entirely.

You were terrible at being there. And you were terrible at being away, too. But the wind engulfed you with some solace at least, and this was only half as worse as the stifling air in that one room. Invisible thumbs pressing into your neck.

But this town, this village — they weren’t big. And your staff, and Jungkook, and the people knew you.

So you shouldn’t have been too surprised when she found you here, too. When you heard her voice close and recognised it immediately, swearing that the field was empty just a moment ago.

She was slow, careful. She knew you by now, at least a little; but she still always approached you as if she was waiting for an outburst, well aware that you weren’t going to snap again. But she saw a deep fault in herself, expected to be thrown out at some point.

But you wouldn’t; you never did. If you wanted to, you wouldn’t have found this very hidden spot that she’d located so easily.

Hands folded in front of her body, she smiled when you looked back at her, alarmed by the steps in the grass. You managed a little smile, just as savvy of the fact that she was harmless as she was. You didn’t hate Jihyo; but you were still wounded, insecure.

Squinting into the high sun, eyes hidden behind some of her strands swaying in the wind, she nodded towards you, standing over you before she said, “We are done.”

You reciprocated her nod, telling her, “That’s good.”

“He is giving Minjun a bit of his time, so I left. I have been wanting to find you for so long, but you always disappear.”

Of course she’d noticed. Jihyo, despite her faults and stupid mistakes in the past, wasn’t dumb in any way. She was a woman, like you, deeply tenderhearted and understanding of what swirled through your mind in her presence.

She knew that if she was you, she’d be hurting the same.

Yet, you told her, “I apologise.”

“There is no need.” Small pause, and then, “May I?”

She pointed to the spot next to you, asking to take a seat in the middle of a field that you didn’t own. Not like this; she didn’t need to ask. But you still nodded, shifting a little to the right, even though you didn’t need to.

Putting both hands under her thighs, she tucked the dress under her bottom and sat down, legs folded and fingers immediately grabbing some grass to toy with. She asked, “How are you?”

You puffed out a tiny breath. What were you supposed to answer? The shrug of your shoulder accompanying your seeming pondering was redundant, because you knew the answer very well. What good did it do to put on an act?

You responded, “It might take a while to feel like myself again.”

It was enough as an answer. She nodded once again, one eye still pinched shut as the noon sun stung in it. “It does take a while. Life would hurt less if it didn’t.”

“My mother says hardships build character.”

“Yes?” she wondered, letting out a little chuckle. Her digits wandered from the grass to her dress, picking at a stray thread. “I don’t know. I think it wouldn’t be too bad to evade these hardships. Does the character really need to be built?”

You sighed. “Right? I do not reckon I need to evolve as a person if I can just be happy.”

“Right,” she repeated.

She silenced again for a moment, the quietude broken by the whistle of the breeze. You breathed in, thankful for the oxygen so different from your hometown. You were thankful for a plethora of things around here and this was one of the aspects topping the list so easily.

Jihyo tongued her cheek and you watched for a second. When she noticed you staring, she smiled again, adding, “I appreciate your honesty. You do not need to talk to me at all, but you still do. Thank you.”

“Well,” you began, offering a tender smile, “it kills me to not be honest.”

Which was true, but not quite.

It wasn’t that you had been lying to Jungkook; you were just constantly burying your actual thoughts. What you felt and what you thought and what you needed. You felt odd about the moments you shared with him, and often waited for the right situations to be vulnerable.

It was killing you to not verbalise your mind, but you still powered through.

“I can see it,” she still admitted, “I see it even in your face.”

You were sure she could. Your face often felt contorted. Even if you wanted to, you were certain you couldn’t quite hide the emotions your brain elicited; it would always show in the eyes first. Windows to the soul and whatnot.

Did his eyes reveal the same to her? Did she see any of what she had so many years ago?

When he found out about her morals, when he felt the pang of pain in his chest back then, did he look similar to her? Or did she see a difference now?

Your stomach churned at the thought of this.

Words at the tip of your tongue, you chose to let them tumble, and asked in a voice so fragile, “How was he back then? Jungkook.”

Jihyo thought about it for a minute. Looked at you. Then gazed back down; without meeting your eye now, she said, “…Hurt.”

“Hmm…” you voiced, uncontrolled with your following words, seeking answers. “Then, he must not look different now. You know him like this, do you not?”

Another second to evaluate your question.

Your heart beat in your throat, and you let your head fall, understanding her answer until she spoke, and you realised that you actually didn’t, “I am not sure. For one, I did not know how to heal him. Back then, it was not just me. His emotions had to do with something much bigger than what we had.”

You only stared.

Your eyes begged for her to elaborate, and she did.

“He was hurt, but for another reason. Back then I was the distraction from his problems and he fell back into them once he stepped out of my life. But…” She hesitated, fumbling for words. “But you are the main reason for his heartache.”

Her words hurt deeply and violently. They had long been sitting in a space so concealed, but they floated to the surface now. As she voiced them, there was no way to deny them anymore; even if you weren’t at fault, and even if you understood your pain, validated it every day…

It was no lie that he was hurt because of you, too.

“Yes…” you confessed, your voice tiny and pained.

Maybe Jihyo understood what she had just uttered and how you’d taken it, because she shook her head in the next moment. Clarified, “Do not misunderstand, I don’t mean this in a bad way. Just that—”

She was struggling; was attempting to not be the source of your ache again. She inhaled deeply, and then tried again, “There is a big difference between me and you and his pain between us. With you, it’s so much more profound. If he can hurt because of you, and only hurt because he had lost a distraction all those years ago… doesn’t it reveal his true feelings?”

You didn’t answer. You needed to digest her words; eyes drifted to the ground, and you repeated them in your mind. She leaned into you, touched your elbow ever-so-gently. “Does it not?”

You tucked your hair loosely behind your ears. Partly, because it kept covering your eyes; partly, because you felt shy all of a sudden. Not the way you used to. Rather in a familiar in-love-way, yearning for somebody who was waiting for you just the same.

Somebody adored you for who you were, thankful for every damn breath you drew. There were moments of realisations like this; when you rethought your life and once again understood who it truly was who fell for you.

You were lucky, you thought, to be the one to be worthy enough to be loved by him.

“You’re right,” you soon agreed, “of course… of course you are.”

Jihyo didn’t answer right away. Your conversation was shaped by certain awkwardness, but it was drenched in support, too. You didn’t think you’d find yourself here, but realistically, you also knew that Jihyo wasn’t quite a bad person.

She had hurt, hadn’t she? Every woman deserves a love she can be proud of; Jihyo had never experienced it until now. Not when she hid with Jungkook in vacant rooms. Never meaning to hurt anybody when she broke into your life.

You wished you could despise her for her flaws, but you couldn’t.

Not when she looked at you like this. Those gorgeous, dark eyes so sweet, eyebrows knitted together just a little. Arched, pretty lips in a small smile, but the distress so obvious underneath her expression.

She said, “I don’t want to come in between you. I never wanted to, it’s just that…” She gulped. You already knew what she’d say and you nodded, but she explained anyway, “I need to ensure his safety. I wish there was another way.”

Perhaps there was. But no easy one. And maybe she was right anyway. If not the father, who else?

“I wish there was,” she repeated, “but as soon as I have figured it all out… I will be gone.”

The shake of your head came quicker than you would’ve assumed or expected. You surprised yourself when you defended, “But Jungkook deserves a relationship with him, too. I don’t want to take it away.” You gazed down again. “He wasn’t part of his life until now, but… can you or me or he really abandon that? Minjun is still his… his blood.”

You choked out the last words, suppressing the urge to hold onto your chest, to grip your heart and protect it, so it didn’t bleed through your digits. What could you do, really? You could’ve agreed, told her to pack her things once things were resolved.

You wished you were selfish like this; you knew Jungkook would’ve been for you if you just told him. But you couldn’t. It wasn’t fair towards anyone.

“Then…”

Jihyo’s gaze was intense, trying to communicate verbally. Maybe she knew it was hard to find the right words at the right times; she wasn’t bad at it, but it didn’t come to her naturally either, like the way it did for Jungkook so often. And he had said many times that it did for you, too.

“Then you might need to find a way to cope,” she threw out, “or to… to not hurt anymore. I’m wrong, I don’t want you to cope. I want us to stop hurting. Because I respect you.”

She let out another breath. Her hand moved in place, and you knew she was trying to reach out, holding back until you did it for her. Put a palm on her fingers. She continued, “And I do not want to lie… I am fond of you.”

Maybe because she understood. Or because, at heart, she knew you were good. Worth respecting. You wanted to hurt others just as little as she did.

You nodded, responding, “Thank you. I— I am fond of you, too, just not… of—”

“Of the situation itself. I know.” You agreed with another nodding gesture, nibbling at your lower lip for a second. Jihyo sighed. “Realistically… without lying to yourself. Do you want to leave?”

Did you? Of course not. If you’d wanted to, you would’ve. But you were too weak to fall out of love with him. Or maybe, in truth, this was one of your strengths.

Compassion. Care. Forgiveness.

You never thought it took much to love him. But it always takes a lot to compromise, to fight through issues and circle back to love. Were you strong enough to do this?

Maybe. Probably.

Because it was him. Come on…

It was him.

“No,” you then said.

“You love him,” she stated. Not a question. A solid observation; anyone would see.

“I do.”

“…Would you regret staying more or leaving?”

Asking the right questions. Then again, the answer didn’t take much thinking. Your instinct knew, and your heart knew, and every overthinking thought, once cleared, would give way to one and only answer.

So you acknowledged, “I do not know how to leave him.”

And that was it.

Jihyo didn’t say more than that. She leaned back, one single nod, palms against the sharp grass; she didn’t seem to bother.

She stretched her chin towards the sun, indulging in the start of the spring. You saw a ladybug crawling up her clothed leg, but she didn’t pay it any mind. In fact, she didn’t utter anything at all anymore. Because she didn’t need to.

You knew, and she knew.

Because whatever she could’ve said, you already saw. Her silence divulged it.

Quietly, wordlessly made clear to you—

“Then you know where this will eventually go.”

The corners of your eyes are dry, somehow crusty when your lids flutter open the next morning. You guess that’s where the liquid traced down your face and left your skin to desiccate.

Your left side feels airy and empty, and when you turn, you see it devoid of a presence indeed. But there’s a soft, close rustling and whispering that you soon detect to be the man that priorly deserted the bed.

He’s standing close to your childhood room’s door, throwing a thin, baby blue coat over his shoulders. It’s reminiscent of the royalty he is.

His eyes meet yours in time as you blink at him, sad yet dreamy. The desire to act upon the emotions that the dream — no, the memory — called forth is vigorous. Like an invisible force, urged by the girl you expected it from the least.

She was right, you knew where it’d go. Perhaps you just needed more time; to heal, to come to terms with all the change around and inside you.

And you want to leave it behind and want to pull him back to you; but as his eyes flicker with an already established plan, you hold back, listen as he verbalises it, “Get dressed, my love. We shall go out today.”

“Out? Where?”

“Let me lead you. I wouldn’t want to ruin the moment.” And then he turns away. Adds, “I will wait downstairs. I will give you some time to get ready.”

He nods once towards the general direction of the house’s exit, hand already on the handle of the door. You start, “You can stay if you—”

But he sighs, not in annoyance but amusement. His mouth curves into a smile before he chuckles a bit, pushing down the handle. You silence, but he doesn’t leave before infiltrating each of your thoughts when he says, “I know you are fine with this, but—”

Just one more time, he turns to you, “But I want to revisit it. The moment I saw you and felt it for the first time.”

He doesn’t need to specify what it is, because you remember, too. The excitement seconds away from the door, when you’d rush to open and put your gloved hand into his. He’d bow and kiss your knuckles and offer his arm.

And you’d stare. You’d keep staring. Would marvel at the sun reflecting in his eyes or the raindrops trailing down his temple or the snowflakes melting in his hair.

You’d admire and fall, freeze and burn. Would wait for a single moment in a vacant corner, anticipate his lips closing in, holding the hand lifting to your cheeks.

The clot in your throat is thick as Jungkook leaves and shuts the door gently. And you, as lovesick as you have always been, let your legs dangle, for a minute tops before you hurry to find all you need.

Your maid helps you a little, tightening the corset and assuring you that Hana is still asleep. That your sister was planning on buying her toys today anyway, a certainly long trip. Maybe it was Jungkook who had schemed all this beforehand — it seems to work quite well.

Hana is never one to complain when it comes to her aunt or her uncle or her cousin.

You don’t notice how much time passes until you’re finished, a lock dangling on each side of your face and a summer hat sitting on top of the carefully mended hair. You only question what Jungkook did in your absence once you near the staircase.

Converse with your father? Flatter your mother? Soak in some of the sun, just outside on the porch, greeting passersby who must surely still remember him?

But it’s none of these things, really, and you should have known. Should have reminded yourself of the sincerity in his voice and the words he uttered as you awoke.

Because he’s nowhere near any of your family members; instead, he’s right there in the middle of the welcoming hall. Stands there like a lost but gorgeous, sweet puppy. Fondles with his fingers, a strand in his forehead.

His mane is as dark as his eyes when they find you at the top of the staircase, but they’re shinier, with a degree of affection you’ve known for years. So there’s something ancient in his gaze.

Something you knew back when life truly started. When he’d wait, just like this, and you’d walk down the stairs, as if descending to join him at the altar. Come to think of it, you think you remember similar sentiments in his pupils when you married him, too.

No, you don’t think so; you know. Hell might freeze over — you wouldn’t forget the way he looked at you, so vulnerable and in disbelief. Somewhat glad and relieved that you were there, putting his trust and his heart in your palms, yet expecting the worst.

You know that you taught him — to understand his worth and to see what he is to you.

And you see the same feelings now.

He knows you, knows you better than anyone. But he’s falling in love again. Seeing you again. Trying to mend what’s broken and finding an anchor in you, seeing the beauty one usually recognises in forests and waterfalls and colours.

You breathe in. Then out.

Keep watching as he watches.

His mouth is slightly apart, a bittersweet pain in his eyebrows, and once you reach him where he waits, you see him gulp. He dares not to blink as you take his hand, cherishes each moment and all he’s allowed to see of you.

Jungkook doesn’t need to say any of it. He has before. And even when he didn’t, you knew. He might have studied you over the years, but you know him better than anyone, too.

Strange, how your brain convinced you otherwise and planted doubts when you’ve never not been aware of the loyalty he always pledged to you.

But he’s so unwaveringly beautiful as you take him in. There is no moment in existence when he isn’t, but… those eyes. And the bridge of his nose, ending in that little button. The arch and curve of his lips and the moles you have kissed so often.

You’re breathless and taken when he smiles like this, madly insane when he says, “Not that I ever forgot, but,” he exhales, “I am incredibly lucky.”

Timid, you lower your head for a brief moment, fingers curling around his as you swallow the knot and tell him—

“Funny… I was going to say the same thing.”

You know the building. Know it like the back of your hand, even now.

“You brought me to…”

You look around, slightly blinded by the sun as you squeeze one eye shut. Some of the bricks look the same, some have been replaced. You didn’t realise how much you missed it here until now; not until the door of the carriage closes and it sinks in that he actually brought you here.

“The orphanage,” you breathe.

“You talk about them so much,” Jungkook says. Good — perhaps you did miss them and knew. But years passed. A new life started. Still… “We never got around to visiting this place. But I wanted to bring you this time.”

Your head turns to look at him. “Have you ever since you first asked to come to town?”

“Well… no,” he admits, “rather, I have wanted to for months. Before anything happened.”

You don’t know what to reply. There’s a little version of you in the back of your head, jumping in joy and tearing up at the same time. Another reminder of a million that Jungkook has always been attentive with you.

Maybe that’s why you fell just a bit deeper every day while other loves faded and wavered. Because Jeon Jungkook fucking cares. If not for anyone, then about you. You might die with this certainty embedded in your mind.

“Shall we go in?” Jungkook asks, and you nod, nervous and curious and so, so fond.

Once you’ve put your name in the visitors’ archive, the passage to the main hall is more or less empty, with a couple new faces passing you by. But once you reach the lovely place you’d frequent, watching spontaneous or carefully crafted performances on a small stage, names start coming to you.

It takes a second for them to perceive you. The orphanage can be a crowded place and random guests, especially unannounced, are not a given. You knew that back then, too. There are kind souls in this town, but the children are still not used to visitors.

They were used to you before you left.

And you see the month and year-long fondness they had set up for you once they do finally detect you. Some of them are new once again, but several you recognise. Just like you, they freeze momentarily, robbed of air.

For a second, they stare at you as if met with a forgotten ghost. As if they’re trying to place you into a fitting category in their lives, figuring out when you were part of it until they finally get it.

A boy and a girl, fraternal twins, are the first to abandon their game of nine men’s morris and get to their feet. You wave with a quiet, “Hello,” and they lift their hands and open their mouths, wordlessly telling you that, “I can’t believe this!”

The boy, Chul, would always hug you back when you came here. He was still so young then and now he’s grown by one or two heads. It’s easy to tell who they all are despite the time that passed; the moles and movements and smiles are still the same.

Though they have grown into such dashing gems.

Behind the twins, you see more children rushing, but he’s the first to speak your name, taking off his ivy cap, “You… it’s been so long. So long, welcome—”

“It has been,” you tell him as you allow him to take your hand. He must be around sixteen now. “Way too long as I can see. When did you start sounding like this?”

He laughs, looking around to the other kids and tells you, “You missed quite a lot. I even choose my clothes myself now.”

His sister chimes in, “Yet he’s not mature enough to see how awful they look at times.”

It is a joke, but you can’t help but feel a little sad. Even all those years ago, these two would bicker, playfully insulting each other’s intellect and appearance as siblings knowingly do. But even today, you know that the mere reason for unfitting clothes is the lack of resources at times.

The orphanage tries its best, but it can’t defy worse times. Chul is tall but on the leaner side, and the shirt is slightly too big. One day, you hope they can find a life outside from here, shape something they have dreamed of.

“You will grow into it,” you tell him, Jungkook quiet next to you, and pat the boy’s bicep, “you already look so much stronger.”

Chul blushes, carding his fingers through his chocolate brown hair. “I do try my best.”

Your eyes fall to the back, to a girl with lifted eyebrows and an absolutely delighted expression. Easily recognisable, too. She used to have flaming red hair; somehow, it has darkened with time, only by a shade.

But her eyes are still a rare green, as unique as all of her. Lily was one of the few children who travelled from afar, in her mother’s arms that she never got to meet, like most of the kids here.

You still don’t quite know which country she originally came from, and it took her a while to accept that she’d never meet who brought her here. Almost everybody struggled with this at some point, but it took Lily longer to come to terms with it.

She was always loved, though. You recall her being mature beyond her years, and even now, she seems so put together. She must be close to adulthood by now.

And she was also one of the girls speaking to you when you brought Jungkook here for the first time. Bittersweet and nostalgic; she embodies much more for you than just the sweet girl you used to know.

She reminds you of Hana a bit, though they have nothing in common. Perhaps it’s because you hope Hana will be just as amazing one day; heighten all the wonderful qualities she already possesses.

Lily steps forward, along with the others; you soon see that a bunch is missing. A lot of those you played with and talked to — but as the conversation continues, you soon learn that they left the orphanage when they were old enough.

Saved up from the work they did as they grew old enough and then travelled the country and cities to find a college, studied what they desired, established a life. Those you knew as older children back then are now probably somewhere, hopefully happy, finding joy in something new.

You feel inexplicably proud.

The rest is still here — hoping to follow in their footsteps. Different from you who disappeared so long ago. You said your goodbyes back then, but you were sure you’d return.

Life moved so fast.

The kids, soon finding themselves in a circle on the clean floor, facing you, ask where you went and how you were doing. What life was like away from here.

They’re sweet, these people. Didn’t mind folding their legs on the spot, but insisted on offering a blanket for you to sit on. Jungkook is close to you, just a few inches behind you, allowing you space and privacy with those you cherished.

But as enthusiasm in all voices grows, he speaks up as well, curious as he asks, “Do you all remember me, too, by the way?”

Some nod enthusiastically; others stare at each other, still young and even younger then. Jungkook picks them from the circle, cocking an eyebrow in faux-offense as he curses, “Well, damn. I shall remember this.”

But the twin sister, Eunji, shakes her head, reprimanding, “How do you all not remember? He was the prince!”

Enlightenment spreads over the others’ visages. Of course it’d take them a little. They have probably heard of the Jeon Jungkook, one of the main royals the town offers, but since he left with you years ago, they wouldn’t know his face anymore, would they?

They were so little when they met him first.

“I mean, I am not really a prince, but—” Jungkook starts, but one of the older ones interrupts—

“Well, you looked like one.”

Then, one of the youngsters that forgot, “You still do.”

Jungkook chuckles. You look over your shoulder, catch the crinkles around his eyes and the bunny grin; the way he lifts his shoulders some whenever he laughs. He looks much younger like this.

Like before. Like then.

“Wow,” his candied voice utters, “thank you so much.”

“Were you already married back then?” Eunji asks.

You shake your head. “No, not for a while still. I invited you, did you forget?”

“Ooooh. I keep mixing up memories. But dang,” she teases, leaning forward, “so you fell in love when you brought him here, huh?”

You smile; see Jungkook blush. These are still hormonal, young adults. They’re probably roaming around, falling in love, too. No wonder they dig such topics so much. They didn’t care all those years ago.

But you’re delighted when you tell them parts of your and Jungkook’s story, conveniently leaving out pieces that concern nobody but the two of you. You must admit even: being here helps you forget some of it.

And as time passes, you reckon this was partly Jungkook’s intention, too.

Another girl, Hayun, hitherto quiet and listening, wonders at some point, “So why are you here?”

“I wanted to visit you,” you tell them.

The answer is easy and clear as day, though you weren’t the one to manifest the idea into actions. You don’t tell them that it is Jungkook doing this for you; that you would’ve come back for them, but perhaps not now, not with how life went for weeks.

But you don’t regret a moment. You’re thankful. If you could, you’d take his hand, squeeze it, silent gratitude, so he knows how you feel about all of this. And you’re determined to keep their smiles on, to return when you can when they ask,

“Are you going to stay?”

“Not for long… I will need to go home in a day or two…”

You could feel guilty. But you don’t; you’re not leaving for so long ever again. You adored all of them from the bottom of your heart. You won’t let all of what you came to feel be for nothing.

“But… if you’d like,” you begin and some of them straighten their posture, “I can stay here for a bit today. I will come back another time, too. Is that… alright?”

Their reaction is immediate. How did you never assume how much you mean to them, too? Of course you do. You were a frequent face and they learned to love it, to appreciate you deeply. Considering some of the lonely days they lived through, they’d never forget you.

Your waterline dampens, for the millionth time this week, and you blink it away. You won’t cry, not here, not now. They’re a source of joy, so you’ll show them this exact emotion, too.

“Of course!” they chime. “As long as you’d like. We’ll be here.”

But it’s hard, containing it all in your eyes. They must be seeing your glassy look, because theirs turns empathetic, smiles everywhere you look. Filling the seconds of noon, and then afternoon, with stories.

You’re baffled about how much has changed. Years ago, they’d tell you about their day and ask you for permission to braid your hair and draw with you.

Now, they reveal their first loves and tease you and ask about your children. And still, some of the moments are so familiar.

Because you remember that Jungkook sat next to you back then like this, too, and that he was silent, staring and caring and falling in love just like he is now. Seeing you for who you are and creeping deeper into your heart.

Things have changed and relationships have changed, but then again, they haven’t.

The young people the two of you were, flirting and rolling your eyes, pushing the other and then pulling them in. Swiftly into his arms, into his mind. You’re more mature now, but still in love, still one molten soul.

And you still see the same damn devotion when you recite a poem the children remember pieces of. You’re glad you still recall most of it, because they struggle with finding the words, reminiscing about how they loved it but not what it consisted of.

A belt of straw and ivy buds, with coral clasps and amber studs, And if these pleasures may thee move, come live with me, and be my love.

When you catch him looking, he doesn’t avert his eyes. They stay on you, aching and yearning, soft but so expressive.

There’s unspoken comfort floating between you, a sense of pleasure and beauty that truly moves you to your core, like ivy buds and amber studs, and you feel it perfectly.

Your heart — much closer to his chest than your own.

His hand is balmy in yours as it escorts you out.

The children’s day isn’t infinite. They soon find themselves busy with chores, apologising every now and then, and as the evening breaks in, you decide to leave them to their meals and tasks.

You have barely left, stepping into the carriage when you whisper, “Thank you.”

He squeezes your fingers, much as you wished to do before, and asks, “What for, love? This was long overdue.”

But you shrug, tell him, “Not just for this. But also for reminding me who I used to be.”

“You’re still who you were.” He nods a bit, a corner of his lips slightly jerking upwards. “If I saw anything today, then that you’re still you.”

“This is…” You furrow your eyebrows, not because you’re irritated but because you’re so deeply affected. Still sore from the knots in your throat, still wounded by the longing. “This is comforting… hearing it from you.”

He lets your hand go, fingers sneaking up to your face instead, cradling it. It’s not the first time, but the repetitiveness doesn’t stop him from vowing to you that, “Whatever you might assume… I will always feel the same about you.”

This isn’t what you are scared of; Jungkook has proven over and over again that he loves you more than humanly possible. It’s rather that—

“And I will never feel the same for anyone else.”

This. It’s this.

Your chin trembles and you start to give in, succumbing to the touch and the eyes and the memories. Your voice is shaky when you start, “I love you, Jungkook… I do. If there was—”

The shake of his head quietens you. “We’re not done yet.”

“What?”

“We’re not done,” he repeats, pinching your chin tenderly, “tell me all you need to once the night is over. I… I need you to be certain.”

You blink. “Certain about what?”

“About… all you need to be certain about. You’d know what that is.” Digits come back to yours, holding them again as the carriage starts with an unsteady jolt. “Only you.”

Yes… maybe nothing has changed as much as you thought.

“Back then you gave me time to think, too… Never rushed,” you say.

“I always will.”

“…Even though we live a human life that is so limited.”

“I will keep waiting.”

“I will be certain before the night is over, then,” you promise, breathe out the pain, “like I was then.”

He brings your knuckles up to his velvety lips, silky like your scarf as he presses a feathery peck onto them. They graze his cheeks and then his jaw, and you barely notice when your body drifts towards his when he speaks.

“Like you were then.”

As far as you recognise, you aren’t too far from your home.

Jungkook walked through a park and along a river with you, admiring the content fish and swans in its depths and at its shore. You didn’t come here a lot when you were younger; mostly with your parents, so there are memories attached to this place that aren’t quite his and yours.

Or at least, until now.

You assume Jungkook is giving the two of you the time you need, bringing back pieces of what was. But you don’t fully understand what it is and what he’s doing until you reach a bench and a spot you are very well acquainted with.

Jungkook’s and your name is clearly written in the sky above where you stand, like you own this place. Like it’ll be you who’ll be remembered by those passing by once both of you have left this realm.

The resemblance to the night you first spoke to Jungkook, many, many years ago when you were just kids, too, is striking. It’s when your initial enmity started; when you learned to abhor somebody you’d eventually learn to treasure.

And this… this is exactly where he first asked you about the odd deal. To be courted. When you stared at him in disbelief and dismissed him with a hundred accusations.

Why did he bring you here?

And why do you feel this way, as if things could truly be okay again? How does it all fit?

So you ask, “Why here?”

“Because… I don’t care which insufferable things we felt for each other,” he explains, “we started here.”

But I want to revisit it. The moment I saw you and felt it for the first time.

This is it, isn’t it? Jungkook didn’t just plan a random outing due to the pleasant day, the warm sun, the gentle breeze slowly introducing thunder and grey clouds. If he had, you’d have spent the day on a hill the two of you love, or strolled amongst a crowd.

No, Jungkook is retracing your steps. The ones you took several years ago, when you hadn’t each exchanged half of your hearts just yet. He wants to bring you back to a place of hopelessness and hostility, prove to you that sometimes, you can save a withering flower.

Or make something new bloom instead.

“We changed so much over time, no? I can barely remember what I used to feel that day,” he says; he’s right. You cannot even conjure fragments of the revulsion between you; it dispersed so quickly. “I can’t even believe any of the hatred ever existed at all.”

“As if we were someone else.”

“It seems like it, does it not? And then… now…”

Yes…

A shared mansion and shared offspring. A beautiful face choosing toys with her aunt and twins familiarising themselves with the grandparents they met too seldomly.

From there to here, from black to white. Then, to a hue of grey.

“As we started our life together…” Jungkook starts, his face more like ash now; the space between the clouds is narrowing. “Did you ever doubt the change? Remember how we were the years before.”

You would never dream of such a question or a thought. Would never form a doubt such as this in your mind. Even then, you were nearly blindly trusting, hopeful in people. You knew they were capable of change, because you weren’t the same anymore either.

“No,” you tell him, “I never thought you were a bad person at your core, but… it needed time for me to realise, too. And when we became what we are today, I knew who you really were. So no, I never did.”

You wait, watch him nod. He seems relieved but also nervous, distracted. Tells you, “I did a little. Doubt myself. I was scared that I wasn’t truly that kind person you saw me as. That I was still the same man plaguing you.”

“You never plagued me,” you promise, stepping near, an automatic hand finding his cheek. “You gave your all.”

“Do you remember,” he begins, halting when a quiet thunder sounds, “do you remember how scared I always was to mess up? Before Hana and anything.”

The books he’d read. The memories he’d carry. The conversations you’d have. Frightened to repeat or forward what he’d grown up with.

“I do,” you say.

“And you’d always remind me that I was easy to love… that effort is always worth it.”

“It is. It was for you, too. Our kids love you.”

The rain collects silvery in his waterline, at the same time as it does above in the sky. He’s harbouring something in this fragile heart of his — a dozen questions and a hundred scenarios. You know he’s hoping for a specific one, hoping for the right responses to all his inquiries.

So there is no surprise in the words he utters next, nor in the shaky fear in his voice, “And you?”

You're quick to answer.

“I will never unlove you.”

“D-do you also remember… how I’d always tell you how afraid I was you’d run away? Before I married you. How much I feared that I’d wake up and not find you anymore?”

“But you found me. I would never hide—”

“But I’m still scared. You reminded me that everybody’s worth loving, despite their mistakes and burdens, and despite all I let out on you or anyone else… you found a way to forgive me and love me. And I’m still scared because—”

His palms shoot up, too, holding your face much as you are holding his. He presses them in, pulls you closer, and you gasp soundlessly. Then, “Because none of this was or is ever a given.”

“I know, too, Jungkook,” you counter, “I never took you for granted. And you know it, you were never bad. Just…”

“Mistreated. You’ve told me, just… I chose to handle it all… way worse than mistreatment justifies. You never did so, no matter what or who hurt you because you’re the sound one, you know?”

“Jungkook, my coping does not have to align with yours, we’re different—”

“Yet, baby, I learned to be a proper human being because of you.”

“This is too big of a responsibility, Kook… it was never just me.”

“No…” he says, gulping, shutting his eyes for a second when another thunder rolls. Fitting spring evening for a blossoming yet blue couple. “I don’t want to attach my sanity to how you react to the things I do. I did this once and…”

He shakes his head, moving your hands with them. Your thumb brushes over his cheekbone and then sideways to his hair. He continues, “I don’t want my ability to make wise choices to be dependent on who you are to me, but… I will never deny what your existence did for me.”

You nod, as if to pacify him; you do it with your children sometimes, make them feel heard and seen. It works with every human being. Jungkook is no different. He seeks your approval and seeks your love.

He sniffles. “Perhaps it wasn’t you making me decent but— it was you leading me back to myself.”

The sun is starting to set. You don’t know when time disappeared and rushed, but it’s almost invisible behind the pale sky. And now, the first drops fall, too. Starting slow but exploding quickly.

It’s a harsh reminder that, as a human being, you cannot repeat moments from the past. Even when you trace them back, they won’t come again; you won’t feel the exact same giddiness again.

But you can create new ones, more dizzy days.

Ones that resemble the night you stepped out of the orphanage, or any other hazy and dark evening that you spent wading through the shower instead of evading it. Or the moment you saw the duke’s son properly for the first time, sobbing on a lonely bench.

Whatever ghastly and foggy disappointment grew in your chest that very night a lifetime ago has long been replaced by guilt — guilt about not understanding better as a kid, not being able to elude the disgust that would follow your entire youth.

But most of all, sadness about how hurt he truly was and would continue to be; how you see something similar now, even though the situations differ drastically. Most of the issues from then have been resolved, and now he’s caught in something else.

Then again, losing somebody and dreading loss both induce fear, don’t they?

And it’s you who helped him last time; how deeply does the pain really run when his anchor is drowning, too?

You look around the world for a moment, lost in dreams and in your head. Jungkook calls your name, a distant sound as the rain patters onto your skin. It takes you a second to recall that you’re supposed to answer, and when you look at him, his voice is so terribly delicate—

“Do you remember?”

“…I do. All of it.”

“We’re living a new life now, aren’t we?”

“I guess we are,” you say, your hands falling a bit, grazing his neck to keep his attention and sanity just enough. “But a new life means rebirth. That does not have to be a bad thing.”

“It doesn’t,” Jungkook agrees. His hair is already soaked — when he shakes his head even a bit, the tips throw the drops into all directions. “But some things stay the same.” He stares up for a second, blinking faster as the sprinkle falls into his eyes. “The rain still connects us to the sky.”

He laughs when you do, suddenly and sweetly, breaking out of you. It has been a while. You keep your smile intact, but the chuckle stirs another emotion in you that you’ve kept at bay for the minutes you’ve stood here.

Glassy eyes find his, silence befalling the world for a moment barring the gentle storm. Then—

A sob.

It travels up straight from your throat, no way of stopping it, no matter how hard you try. Your voice stutters, eyebrows coming together, and his expression changes. Culpable, unforgiving towards himself.

His head sinks a bit, and you guess it doesn’t help when you admit, “Jungkook… I am so hurt.”

“I know,” he whispers; you’re surprised you hear him at all. “I am, too.”

“I’m so… why are my thoughts everywhere, Kook?”

Your desperation implodes and explodes, evident in every tone and tear. You hold onto the collars of his blue coat, tug yourself closer to him. You’re aching, but you need him nearer. Maybe you’ll spiral if he isn’t.

“It hurts so goddamn much to think about it, well knowing who I am to you, and… and I hate losing this part of my sanity,” you tell him.

“Do you…” he starts, swallowing. The state of his eyes resembles yours now; the salty grief is similar as it glides down his already wet face. “What do you need me to do to be happy? Do you need me go— gone?”

He barely gets the word out. Hesitates. So terrified of hearing your answer, unsure whether to take it back, as if it could make you forget he suggested it at all.

But you know Jungkook. He’d rather cut pieces of his heart and never mend them again if it meant bringing you peace and comfort.

The truth, though, is…

“How could I?” you mutter to the ground, not daring to move, like it could make reality dematerialise and throw you into one without him. “No matter the pain, I think that— that losing you would hurt more.”

His breathing accelerates. Some of the life he always breathes into you sparks anew, and he grasps your hand, lets you know that, “You’re not losing me. I’m right here.”

“What if this all, or I, ruin your life?”

“…How?”

“By being like this all the time, Kook—”

“What?” You shut up at the tone. He has told you before — he detests you accusing yourself of something when he messed up… always his words. “Do you know what’d happen if you left?”

You do. You don’t.

You have an idea of what happened when you were away, but he never told you all of it. If you disappeared for good, you’d possibly be met with a world with a Jungkook in it that you don’t even want to imagine.

“I don’t care if you ruin my life,” he emphasises, “I want you to. I want to sit at the fireplace with you and laugh and cry and fight with you. I want to see the kids grow, together with you. I want this. Okay… Okay?”

“I—”

“And I want you to keep remembering it all. How we started, how we grew, too. How I thought I’d die without you the moment I saw you walking towards me at the altar.” He brings your hands to his face as he always does, brushing your knuckles against his lips. “I… I can’t have this with anyone else.”

He moves your fingers to his eyes, and a moment later, you feel further wetness, the tears against your skin. He shakes his head, lets all he concealed for weeks flood out at once. You knew he was hurting, but he barely ever showed it as openly as he is now.

Just like you are. You remember — that he held back for you, died a bit every day.

“And I don’t want to,” you hear him whisper. And then, again. “I really don’t fucking want to.”

You’re speechless; if only for a second.

“This is… what you’ve grown to feel?”

“I always have,” he tells you through his trembling voice, a pitch higher now as he capitulates, “she was just— a fleeting memory of just one moment. And you are every second of my day.”

He has been occupied all these years — in every single nanomoment of every damn day and night, you were the main thought taking over his brain. Whatever he’s done, whatever’s he’s ever said, he’s done and said so for you.

Jungkook favours you over every existence in this universe, and you should have always known. No, you did. You were never an overthinker until the world turned upside down, until it forced dubious hesitation into you that you should’ve deemed irrelevant from the start.

Jihyo isn’t part of him anymore. He didn’t see you when she was. He didn’t see her now that you are. Does that very past matter more than this, though? This warm touch and the promises in it and the love in his eyes and the sadness in his lower lip.

“You don’t know who you are to me,” Jungkook says, not waiting for your query before he tells you, “you don’t know who you are at all, do you? Do you never see all the kindness and generosity? How selfless you are and how much you care?”

“Don’t you? See it in yourself, Jungkook?”

“This is what I mean. You’re so fucking forgiving, too, no? I—” Pause. Then, quieter, “Please forgive me…” He’s begging now, full on crying, closing in until his lips float over yours. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Jungkook has kissed you a million times. But when he does this time, he adds emotions you don’t think you’ve ever felt his lips press against yours.

And you feel it all when he leans in, parted mouth colliding with yours. He’s been so afraid to kiss you; but not now. Not when every single one of your glances pleads for him to. Not when you’re not ready to break the rhythm, not now, not ever.

Everything is already blurry around you, but it seems to vanish now. You still register the glossy streets, the silver, misty air, but all of it seems unreal. And then, you finally close your eyes, give in.

None of this feels rushed, but it feels urgent. Slow and tentative, but also desperate and thirsty. The rain combines with your tears and slips down your faces, threaded through your hair and soaking your clothes.

But you don’t care. You don’t move. You need warmth. Need shelter. This achingly gentle, still and suspended moment where everything ceases to exist.

Only skin and rain and tongues and lips. Only him and how he holds you, pulls you in, uncaring of who might see or what they might say. This waited to happen. You know it did.

It takes minutes until you gasp for air, remembering to breathe, fingers in his hair and forehead against his as you realise that you will never be able to unshackle yourself from him. You’re here to stay, following his steps, entangled with him until you cease to exist, too.

You’ll keep running back until he catches you. And you’ll catch him when he hurries to you.

And as he exhales into the air, face half lit as the moon rises, you clutch his body to yours, his ruined clothes for dear life, cheeks searing as you tell him—

“I do, too. I love you, too.”

For a moment and for an eternity.

Seasons changed again.

The twins talk now.

And ever since they learned to finally babble, it’s all they’ve been doing. Hana loves the fact, but acts as if she doesn’t. She’s an undoubtedly mature child. Knows too much for her age, still forgiving — but her ego also still remains intact, especially when it comes to her brothers.

The care she grants them rattles your heart. Protective and loving and so giving. But the fights continue; your twins are as gentle as their parents, but they do not shut up when they feel like they don’t need to.

They confront you or their sister when needed. Probably got this from you, too.

So nobody is really surprised when Hana feels as thoroughly irritated as she does most days growing up with them, a whiny voice exclaiming, “I don’t want your carrots! Eat them yourself!”

The brothers have been dumping their vegetables onto her plate for the past seven minutes; half of their meal makes a mess on the floor. You usually don’t let them eat on your precious carpet, but the kids have been particularly sweet these days.

Absolutely and unwaveringly mannered at yesterday’s gathering especially. You were celebrating Hana’s eighth birthday; maybe they were too distracted by the pastries and the cake to fight, too.

But you’re too weak, too easy to convince. As strict as needed at times, but not entirely immune to their irresistible charm. And Jungkook… he’s a hopeless cause anyway when it comes to them.

“Stop this!” Hana yells, returning the already mashed baby carrots. She emphasises each word with each piece she throws back onto their plates. “Eat. Your. Veggies!”

“I dun want to,” Jaehyuk responds, and Jaehoon, following, imitates. It fully provokes her. “You like them.”

“I am done, Jae. Let me rest.”

You can’t hold back the sudden laugh, not even when she fights back with a sigh, leaning back. Acts as if she took care of the dozen chores in the mansion when she’s merely exhausted from the party. To be a child again.

“I need my quiet time,” she told you, and you furrowed your eyebrows in delight before you granted the princess what she wished for.

The sun is setting outside, though having been hidden for most of the day. It’s colder now, but dusk is still pretty. You’re thankful for this; thankful for it all. Because this time of the day equals Jungkook close to you.

Done with work. Hip to hip on the same carpet against the couch that you once kept your distance on from him.

But you long stopped thinking of this. Whenever you find yourself here, basking in the presence of your little family, you think of the precious moments before anything happened. In hindsight, however, not much changed in the extent of affection after all.

Because you learned to cope, learned to let go. Jungkook still meets Jihyo sometimes, forms a bond with his son, provides him with a sense of fatherly love. And you let him — you don’t feel insecure anymore.

“Daddy,” his girl calls, tapping his knee for exclusive attention, “say something.”

And the father, ever so diplomatic and peaceful, settles on, “Leave the carrots, okay? I’ll eat them later. Stop fighting.”

“Hear?” Hana voices, an accusing finger scolding her brothers. They offer a full grin, absolutely aware of their effect on her.

Your eyes widen when Jaehyuk randomly and without a good reason rebukes, “Stupid Suhana.”

“Hey, hey!” you reprimand immediately, cocking an eyebrow until they go quiet. Their attention shifts to their food innocently as you chastise, “Don’t say such things. And definitely not like you’re insulting the name.”

“We are because we dun like her.”

Another giggle from Jaehoon. The boy mostly listens; doesn’t pick a fight. But if it’s about his siblings, he’ll definitely be a culprit, too.

“You so do,” Hana defends, and you agree with a nod and folded arms, “now eat. Leave me alone.”

This time, they listen; resume to their dinner, but not before sticking out their tongues to her. She ignores them, fiddling with her fingers. When she looks at you, her head is tilted, eyes curious as they are all the time before she asks, “Where does this name come from anyway, Mama?”

“Oh…” you respond, shooting Jungkook a look right away. You tell her, “You should ask your dad. It was his idea.”

Her gaze shifts to him, and he hums; then explains, “It was your aunt’s name. So you’re named after her.”

“Oh. Can I meet her?”

Your eyes drift to your lap. You register the change in his undertone as he speaks on, “I’m afraid this won’t be possible. She’s… she’s not with us anymore, baby.”

Hana’s mouth forms a silent Oh. She’s empathetic, sad when she sees a dead bird or a sick cat. She knows to grieve, but she knows to move on, too — so she says, “Well then, I like the name. I think I was named after somebody great!”

“Oh?” you wonder. “How do you know?”

“I wouldn’t have her name if she was bad.”

Jungkook chuckles, and you resume staring at him from the side, quietly finding the hand on his thigh as he answers, “I’m sure she was. I have heard only good things.”

“Good,” Hana says, much at the same time as Jungkook adds, “If I could… I’d thank her.”

You don’t know who this statement is directed to. Perhaps it’s too complex of a thought to truly expand on for your children; perhaps he’s thinking out loud for himself. But Hana doesn’t ask anyway, even though she hears it.

Too distracted by Jaehyuk, the troublemaker, who pokes her annoyance back, and she slaps his hand away, sulking. You let them handle this — sometimes, it’s easier to get rid of a situation when you let it unfold.

Instead, your eyes drift back to your husband, and you wonder, “Thank her, yes?”

“Yes.”

“What would you say?”

From the corner of your eyes, you see Jaehyuk and Jaehoon leave their posts and march to a disheartened Hana. No matter how impossible they are, they don’t like seeing her anything other than joyful.

It warms her heart as much as yours, you know. Soothes it when they position themselves on either side, cuddling into her, eliciting a half toothless smile. You’re content.

Back to Jungkook in time, you listen, “What I’d say?” He turns his hand under yours and entangles both your digits. “Hm, I would say…”

He ponders for a while. Waits for the right words to come to him.

And then, a puff of air escapes, your heart swelling when his eyes soften with his voice, “I would try and word my gratitude towards her. It was her who showed me that even the worst people can care.”

“He cared for her.”

“He did,” he squeezes your fingers, shoulder to shoulder. “It was also partly her who saved me, even if she’ll never know. And it was her who brought me closer to you. I wish I could tell her.”

“I wish I’d met her even once, too.”

“I know.”

He nods. The Suhana you never got to know hasn’t been a topic very often. As years passed by, your mind developed its own image of the Suhana you do know. Hana, Suhana.

But when she is, this remains a common phrase. The never-to-be-fulfilled wish to see her just once. A stranger who never even knew of your existence, let alone your name.

“Suhana was supposed to stay,” Jungkook then voices. “But she didn’t and still managed to shine such light onto us from up there. So yes… I would express my gratitude for the life she gave me.”

He sighs, as if remembering somebody from a distant past. “For the life I had the blessing to witness as a human being and… will have the privilege to experience for the rest of my days. I would thank her for that.”

You cannot stop looking. You keep gazing and gazing. In truth, you don’t think you ever stopped ever since you came back from that one healing trip from your town years ago. You kept gaping. Kept falling — again and continuously.

And he’s still beautiful. Still the same mesmerising entity you once married. The same bright smile, still somehow youthful, blindingly lovely when he gives you one even now.

You and me, in every damn life.

Fingers brush his hair back, and you ask, “How could you ever doubt your kindness?”

And in response, he kisses your forehead, “I don’t anymore, I don’t think.”

You beam back at him. Hook your arm with his, settling your tired head on his chest. You hear his heart underneath, like a lullaby with a steady rhythm, and wait for the children to grow fatigued enough to go to bed.

And after that, he’ll carry you to your room, you foresee it already. Will let you fall into feathery, tranquil dreams.

Then again, perhaps you don’t need to wait for any of it. Don’t ever need a slumber for it.

Because you already live in a dream. And you are one, too.

okayyyyy. i don't cry a lot irl at all, but i'm so weak when it comes to these characters. crazy that their story is finished (once again), but i truly hope you guys will remember them for as long as you can. i know some of you grew to love them a lot and i am so, so thankful, truly. 🤍

if you can, please do let me know what you think! i shall answer everything bc it makes me giddy af anyway lol so do give this a like, a reblog and leave a comment, and talk to me about it!! <3 see you with more taegularities shenanigans soon mwah

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts x you #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #jungkook series #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jungkook smut

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miscellaneousdae · 3 days ago

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WOULD THEY DATE A PLUS SIZED PERSON? | SKZ⁸

ᝰ.ᐟauthors note: raise your hand if you’ve been victimized by a tik tok video regarding who in skz would date a plus sized person! 🙋🏻‍♀️ in honor of that, here’s my take on this lol. these were written with reality in mind, but sprinkled by delusion on some. you’re all gorgeous and we don’t know these people personally, so delulu is the solulu.

p.s: written by a plus sized girlie

౨ৎ — BANG CHAN 🐺

Yes.

see source one, source two, and i had another video that i cant find, but chan talks about how saying “you look fine as you are” can sometimes give a negative impression, and how people say “you look good when you’re skinny” but he (at the time) didn’t like how skinny he was, and wanted to gain weight. he just…gets it, in a way, and i’m standing on that! can you tell he’s my bias?

i feel like his is so straightforward that there’s not a lot to elaborate on. he understands that bodies are different, for many reasons, and has always been so open about struggles. be it his own struggles or others, he’s always so kind and open minded. he also definitely gives me the vibe that he’s not actively seeking out romance when he meets someone, so he’s not even considering what’s attractive and what’s not attractive. people become attractive to him when he learns their personality and gets a good grasp of their energy and vibe. so, yes, chan would definitely date a plus sized person <3

౨ৎ — LEE MINHO 🐈

Yes.

now, i don’t have a lot to back me up here other than straight vibes. he’s another one who doesn’t immediately consider romance when meeting other people, and i think he’s probably experienced being physically attracted to someone and then their personality completely throws him off, so he’s just stopped considering looks as a whole. even if looks are considered, he seems like he doesn’t understand why he’d go out of his way to comment on someone else’s body, or why anyone else would. he’s very demure, very minding his own business, very whatever comes his way is what he loves. he’s just a chill guy.

౨ৎ — SEO CHANGBIN 🐇

…do I even need to say it?

for a number of reasons, yes. first and foremost, he just has that vibe that he loves the look, and secondly, he knows what it’s like to not be accepted because of how you look, and therefore, would never want to be that way to other people. he’s a sweetheart, and very much just wants someone who dotes on him and that he can dote on in return. changbin is a strong yes and you’re incorrect if you disagree.

౨ৎ — HWANG HYUNJIN 🥟

indecisive

genuinely, the only thing keeping me from saying yes is how firm some other people’s ‘no’s have been. from my perspective, hyunjin seems like someone who’s open minded and more focused on the ways he can connect with people rather than worrying about judging them. not to mention, he’s an artist. one could argue that he’s more critical, but i also feel like because of that, he wants to really know someone before making any judgements. plus, given the forbidden bullying scandal, i feel like he might be terrified to find himself in another situation like that but i digress

so like…if you ask me? yes, but i am delusional and hyunjin is one of my bias wreckers so who knows

౨ৎ — HAN JISUNG 🐿️

YES GAWDDD

look, i’ve seen mixed opinions on him as well (most of these opinions i’m referring to are old tumblr MTL posts or tik toks and the comment sections on them) BUT i feel like he’s very curious and open minded. so, say a plus sized person shoots their shot? han’s got that “you know what? hell yeah.” mindset. ANNDDDD the video where felix mentions gaining weight, and han immediately reassures him that gaining weight is okay, and that he’s pretty. plus, han spends a lot of time working with chan and changbin, to which i feel like they all probably have come to similar conclusions due to their influence on each other. plus han also gives me the energy that if you’re pretty, you’re pretty, regardless of size, shape, etc.

౨ৎ — LEE FELIX 🐣

…yes. and hear me out,

i’ve seen almost everyone who’s done this sort of thing say that felix is a hard no because of his own struggles with his body and how his perception of beauty is warped. while i can see that, i don’t think that translates to how he views other people. if anything, he wouldn’t want to put someone else through what his own mind puts him through. not to mention, i think he could find a lot of comfort in security in being with a plus sized person who’s confident with themselves, and could implement better ideals to felix. that’s just my take <33

౨ৎ — KIM SEUNGMIN 🐶

YES.

i don’t think i’ve seen anyone say he wouldn’t, and i stand with that because hear me out:

“but i’m fat”

“…okay and i’m seungmin?”

this man does not care. he acknowledges it and appreciates it. he’s very much in the “if i like you, i like you” category. case rested.

౨ৎ — YANG JEONGIN 🦊

indecisive pt. 2

in theory, yes. i think he’s probably taken some influence from chan, or maybe even seeing how changbin has been affected and treated by media would alter any negative views he might have had. to be fair, i just don’t even see jeongin dating LMAO like he’s content as he is, and if the person that happened to come his way was plus sized? if he likes your personality, he’s down.

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darkredsugarcookie · 9 hours ago

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Hi!! I’m new here so I’m sorry if I do this wrong. Just want to send some Thunderbolts!Bucky ideas maybe he called his girlfriend (the reader) for backup (maybe she’s a former shield agent) but didn’t share too many info with the group and they all a little surprised to find out he has a girlfriend

Let me know what you think, thanks!

i absolutely LOVE this!!! Ever since I saw Thunderbolts I've been thinking about almost this exact thing and I got another ask for something similar, so here we are! I'm also tempted to make a part two of this but focus on the two of them more and make it a comfort thing to apologize for my shame room fic LOL

love you 3000!

Signed Up For This

Word count: 1,143

As far as the media knew, the two of you were nothing more than acquaintances.

But it was a bond that had gone back a lifetime, from when the two of you had first met when you were fresh out of escaping the Red Room, to when he was the contact you had made to get a fresh start on life and he was in the process of trying to make amends with his existence, so he had offered to get coffee. “We both need some… new connections,” he had said, offering that awkward smile that you had fallen for almost as quickly as he’d fallen for you.

It was your idea to keep it a secret. You knew how he felt about weaknesses and you were currently the only one he really had. If anyone knew the truth… God, it terrified him. The idea of losing the one pure and right thing he’d gained in this side of the century drove him into a panic more often than he’d admit. So he was glad you had brought it up, worried you might be offended or think he was ashamed of you.

Which was what made him making you the head of his security when he decided to run for Congress a little out of the blue, but you took it. Any opportunity to be close. Plus… who said sneaking around at work was for teenagers?

But tonight, you had a different reason for asking to speak to him in private in the middle of the fundraiser gala. You knew that look on his face. That look that said he was plotting when he very much should not have been.

“What are you thinking?” you asked, peeking around the corner for a moment before your gaze fixed on him again. It was a miracle his hair had stayed in place, but there was a reason he always made you do it for him. “I can see that look.”

“What look?” he replied, that dumb grin you’d fallen for years ago pulling at his mouth. “I’m not thinking.”

“You are such a liar, James Barnes. I can see it. Whatever you’re thinking, leave it alone. We are past our meddling days.”

“I’m not meddling,” he said.

You tilted your head. “Do not let this stuff with Valentina get personal. You can’t afford to get in trouble with all this.”

“The politics don’t—”

“I’m not talking about politics,” you said. “I’m talking about you, Buck. We don’t know for sure what’s going on and we can’t act until we do. Otherwise we’ll be in just as much trouble as she is.”

“I talked to her assistant,” Bucky said.

“Her assistant? Mel?”

“Yes. She’s on the fence.”

“Okay. Tell her to call you when she’s made a decision. Don’t make it your job to change her mind,” you said, taking a step closer. He just stood there a moment, looking you over. Not in that ‘get in the office and take off that dress’ kind of way he normally did, but like he was just taking in your existence. “You told me that my job as your security is to keep you safe. But my job as your fiance is to make sure that we’re not making dumb decisions. Let Mel come to you.”

He nodded, reaching for your waist to tug your body closer. Normally you’d pull away in a setting like this, even hidden, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. Not now. Not when you had that feeling in your stomach that something was just off. And that feeling had never led you astray. “I just make your job harder, don’t I?” he said with a small, teasing smile.

“You do, but I signed up for it,” you replied.

“I’ll be good,” he said, nodding. “But… Mel’s just a kid. If she needs help—”

“Help her,” I said. “And if she needs more than that, call me.”

He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your mouth. “My best girl,” he whispered.

“Always.”

And you should’ve known after that conversation that it was only a matter of time. Within thirty-six hours, you were sent a pin drop link to some place in the middle of nowhere and a message that just said “need you.”

You’d tugged on that leather uniform jacket you hadn’t touched in a long time and braided back your hair before pulling up to some abandoned garage in the middle of nowhere, intel in hand. You could hear voices from inside, something about a “Bob” and exclamations of words you hardly understood.

You shoved through the rusted door, swiping up on the tab in your hands. “She took over the old Avengers tower,” you said, approaching and offering Bucky the tablet. “Heat signatures say she has the place crawling with security and I ran facial rec on the guy she brought in early this morning.”

“So guns blazing is the only way in,” Bucky said, reaching to squeeze your hand in a silent thank you.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Guess so,” you replied before turning to the abstract group of circus people tied up in front of you. And John. “What the hell happened here? Bucky, I told you to just leave Walker alone, he’s been through enough.”

“Who are you?” the little blonde in black asked. If you squinted, you might recognize her. Like some sort of really distant, childhood memory.

Bucky blew out a breath before you could answer. “She’s my fiance.”

“Your what?” came from all four of them.

“He’s married?” the brunette asked.

“In the process,” I corrected.

“How did that happen?” Walker muttered.

“Oh, that is cute!” the large one exclaimed, seeming to be way too happy considering the circumstance.

You glanced at Bucky, your arms folded over your chest. “This is… who was so important?”

“They’re witnesses,” Bucky said, giving you a look as if to tell you to be kind.

A sigh escaped your lips as you looked at the others. “Most ragtag team I’ve ever seen,” you said, shaking your head. “What, exactly, is the plan here?”

“Well, originally, they were my witnesses,” Bucky said, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “But now the agenda looks a little different. Take out Val, help Bob. Then we go home.”

“Bob?” You asked. “Like Robert?” You took the tablet from his hands and swiped it open. “Yeah, he’s a big deal now. If we’re gonna move, we need to do it fast.” You swapped a knowing look with Bucky as he nodded. “I’ll start the car.”

As you made your way towards the door, you heard the voices behind you.

“So you’re really not all bite, huh?” one of the girls said.

“Someone really does have a soft spot.”

“Isn’t that cute."

And despite yourself, a small smile pulled at your lips.

#fanfic #marvel #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #bucky x reader #marvel fanfiction #self insert #james bucky barnes #the avengers #thunderbolts #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #writing

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xylatox · 2 days ago

Text

Higher Than Heaven || csb

Told myself the first thing I'll do on this good Sunday was read Lexi's fic so hear I am hehe, Im so excited (❁´◡`❁)

Beomgyu may be your childhood friend, but habits hold on tight with him. It’s clear from the three years he’s worked at your animal shelter. Your parents always said he has good intentions, although he’s brash in decision-making. "The kid just asks for forgiveness more than permission most of the time," your dad would joke, and Beomgyu wouldn’t disagree.- something about this line warms my heart so much oh my god, I love Beomgyu so much hes so cute :(

It's customary on New Years to feel the ache of their absence so strongly. Your thoughts of them are as vivid as the pain of their loss. It seems to haunt you more with every year that passes. - and Lexi does it again with the beautiful explanation of loss

Five years of grief made the pain manageable, but on nights like tonight, it doesn’t feel like you’ve made much progress.- I felt this :((

Your animals greet you at your door with perky barks and whooshing tails. Mina and Minho, your two tabby cats, seem to be delighted that you’re back, but save the ecstatic greetings for their canine siblings. Key, your senior chihuahua, does what he can energy-wise compared to Bori, your labrador mix. - oh to have pets oh my god, and the fact that mc also has a hedgehog?? shes so cute

I love the comedic nature of how mc and soobin are first introduced to each other, like girl what is an umbrella going to do.

His soft palm meets yours and heats your skin, and you have to cut the parting short to not feel any more flustered. - screaming oh my god ALSO THE LOVE NICKNAME BYE.

I love that the dream gives us some kind of information of why Soobin is present along with his identity as an angel. - He showed you all you needed to know last night through your dreams, a miraculous loophole to the restrictions placed upon him. - like this is really cool I cant lie

He truly is an angel, you realize, and not just in the literal sense.- i giggled

Not Soobin coming to her because of her NYE wish 😭i would die

“I can find a date without your help. Beomgyu already took up that role a long time ago. He’s been pestering me about going out with his friend Heeseung for months. So there.” You stick your tongue out at him and continue sweeping.-HEESEUNG MENTION MY BABY AHHHH

“No, you don’t have to apologize. This is what I get for taking a smoke break when I have cupcakes to make, right?” The baker chuckles and releases you. Your heart thumps at a rapid tempo when he holds his hand out to you. “I’m Mingyu. Sorry I’m built like a mountain.” -OH MY GOD GYU😭So many of my favs are here. I feel sick for Soobin :( poor baby

Soobin’s tender smile makes you blush, and it stirs up all the feelings you’ve suppressed when you’re not in his presence. Mingyu’s a welcome distraction from it all. His looks and personality are undeniably attractive, but you always circle back to the angel in your midst. - oh my god

He’s definitely stewing. The animals must be saying to each other, conspiring about what will occur when their mother finally gets home. - oh this is a cute line

When you brush his mouth with your own, every being in the universe, heavenly or not, ceases to exist in your mind. It’s only you and Soobin in your own world. You want to kick yourself for taking so long to seize this moment, this kiss, with him. For all of the reasons Soobin supplies as to why it’s wrong for the two of you to be together, this could not feel more right. - oh good Lord, girl youre a poet

You crawl back into bed, naked and alone, tears streaming down your face. The only time you rise is to let the animals eat and use the bathroom. For the rest of the day, you remain in bed like a phantom. Half out of your body, half inside of it to feel every ounce of pain. Each shred of sadness reminds you that you still exist, and the man—angel—that you love is gone. - baby noooo :(((

You kiss his lips, all the I love you’s not enough to encapsulate every feeling and gift Soobin’s given you since he came into your life. You both may be on Earth, one old and one new human soul linked as one, but you know this is what it means to be higher than even the immensity of heaven. - oh my god, this was the most immaculate end oh my god

Lexi this was so good!!! Im sososo glad its the first thing I read for the day today :(((

HIGHER THAN HEAVEN | 최수빈

⟢ PAIRING: choi soobin x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 10.3K ⟢ GENRE: fluff, angst, smut ⟢ TAGS: guardian angel!soobin, human!reader, mutual pining, sexual tension, dirty talking, nipple play, chest worship, fingering, unprotected sex ⟢ SYNOPSIS: Soobin, your devoted guardian angel, has one singular purpose in his ethereal existence: to bring your heart's deepest desires to life. Unbeknownst to him, his mere presence fulfills that desire. Yet, the lingering question remains— how can he effectively transform your most intimate dreams into reality? LINK TO PLAYLIST! ⟢ AUTHOR'S NOTE: First fic of 2025! I’d like to thank @lovetaroandtaemin, @chugging-antiseptic-dye, @ylangelegy, @gyubakeries, and @xomakara for beta-reading this fic for me, I know it was a quick journey and I appreciate every one of you who followed the story from the beginning to the end 🤍.

The time fills as plastic shot glasses and empty solo cups discarded into trash bags. Some stragglers of the party lay on the couch or floor, but you pass by them with ease. You sigh before Beomgyu stops you with a sharp tug. "Dude, you don't have to help me. You're supposed to be one of my guests!"

"I'm just avoiding the inevitable tomorrow. And if you come into the shelter late because you procrastinated cleaning your own apartment, I may just kill you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it, boss.” He rolls his eyes and unfurls the empty bag you had between your hands moments before. You giggle in earnest.

“If I get a single text, Gyu–”

“Why don’t you enjoy the early morning hours of New Year's and get out of here?" He shoves you towards the door of his apartment with an "I love you” to follow you out, determined to do what you swear he won't without your help.

Your parents’ words replay in your head on the walk home. You hear every piece of parental advice with each step on the cobblestones, the clack or your heels accompanying every word. It's customary on New Years to feel the ache of their absence so strongly. Your thoughts of them are as vivid as the pain of their loss. It seems to haunt you more with every year that passes.

One day, you had been tagging new intakes and cleaning food bowls like normal. The next you were receiving the call that your parents had been in a fatal car accident. Every space they inhabited, including the shelter, felt colder, quieter, a little less like home. Even your own house twenty minutes from your job barely felt like your own.

Five years of grief made the pain manageable, but on nights like tonight, it doesn’t feel like you’ve made much progress..

The cold of January accompanies the repetitive emotional and mental cycle you're on. The weather bites with a hard set of teeth, almost more brutal than the traces of sadness you feel in your heart.

You don’t realize amid the somber trek home how close the surrounding shadows are, one of a stranger within an arm’s distance.

“Bobo, please,” you beg as she jumps up on you when you kneel at her eye-level. It’s all a mess of slobbering tongue and eager pants with her. Once she’s done, you rub Key between the ears to give him some affection.

Even your hedgehog, Rio, taps against the glass of his enclosure to say hello to you. It’s almost like every pair of animal eyes asks you how the party went and why you left them alone for so long.

You can’t supply them with an answer, because you notice the person-shaped figure at your kitchen counter, silent and clouded in darkness. The sight makes you release a decibel-breaking scream.

You grab an umbrella from the iron wrack near your door and charge to the kitchen, expecting Key and Bori to follow you and bark aggressively at the intruder. They don’t, but they do pad behind you in curiosity at your strange actions.

They barely react at all when you turn on the light in the small kitchen. The new illumination reveals the black-haired stranger dressed in white. He says nothing, but holds a smile of mirth on his face at your line of defense. He's neither scrawny nor muscular, but towers over you to a surreal degree.

You think you can take him if you have the element of surprise, but with the alcohol still buzzing through your veins, you may lack complete hand-eye coordination. It’s anyone’s guess.

“What do you want? If you’re looking for money, you got the wrong house, buddy.” You say with a steady voice, aiming the sharpest point of the umbrella in his direction.

He smiles wide, pearly teeth and a set of dimples almost blinding you. “I’m Soobin.”

His lack of an answer and warm smile throw you off. It’s definitely not the reaction anyone expects from a burglar. Maybe the guy's intoxication is even greater than yours, enabling him to enter someone's home without permission. No matter the reasons, you don’t release your hold on the umbrella. You stare him down hard despite your shaking hands.

“Well…Soobin…I don’t know what you want, but you’re not gonna find it here.”

“I’m in the exact place I need to be.” He says your name with the same level of warmth that remains in his smile, but your blood runs cold at the fact he is aware of who you are. Was he stalking you? Had he stopped by the animal shelter while you were too busy to make a mental note of him? “Put down the umbrella and we–”

“Get the fuck out of my house, you creep!” You raise the umbrella as high as you can before it falls on his head, shoulders, or any location on his body that will stun him. He knows it’s coming, though.

Soobin somehow materializes right in front of you before you can step forward, taking your wrists gently in one hand to stop you. “There’s no need for that. I’m not here to harm you.”

You struggle in his hold, trying your hardest to release yourself from his grip with all of your might. Then, you freeze, unsure of how both his speed and his lack of alarm to your furry animals makes any logical sense.

Soobin senses your lack of effort to go through with your attack and lets go of you, taking a small breath of air. “Will you drop the umbrella?”

“Once you tell me what you are,” you whisper. “My dogs would have ripped off your ankles by now, but they didn’t. Why?”

Soobin chuckles, but you feel anything but humorous. “The why to that question is a bit hard to explain. But I can tell you why I’m here.” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly bashful. “Let’s just say I have a mission to complete.”

Soobin sits at one end of the couch, hands in his lap, while you sit on the other. Your dogs lay at the edge of the couch, snoring peacefully now that the chaos is over. Your knees sit tight against your chest, still guarding yourself from him or any potential advances he may make.

You may not think he wants to kill or rob you anymore, but that doesn’t mean you’re immediately trusting of the stranger. One that is no doubt breathtaking, but still hiding his intentions.

You size him up, still unsure how or why the guy is familiar with you when you’ve never seen him before. He can barely provide you with an adequate answer for the questions that pop into your head.

Where are you from? How do you know me? Have we ever met before?

He chuckles at each one, continuing on with the same reflexive response. “Proprietary information.”

You roll your eyes. “Every time you say that, you sound like some kind of spy.” You move closer to his spot on the couch, looking at him with more intensity than before.

The analysis makes him laugh even more, his cheeks turning pink. “I’m not an alien, if that was your second guess.”

“That’s not what I was thinking!”

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “You look like you’re about to cut me open with a scalpel.”

Your lips transform into a firm line. “Should I want to, Soobin? Maybe you’re saying you’re not an alien to throw me off.”

“Trust me, I am not an extraterrestrial. Not cool enough.”

You can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous situation you find yourself in, matching the smile on Soobin’s face with your own. An hour ago, you were about to kill him in self-defense for what you assumed was a classic break-in scenario. Now, you’re laughing with your would-be victim. This has to be the most peculiar first day of the year you’ve ever had.

He claps his hands softly on his white denim jeans. “We should call it a night. You’re probably tired. I can explain more tomorrow, if you’d like.”

You look around your house, unsure where Soobin is planning to stay for the next few hours. The one-bed-and-bath cottage is anything but roomy, most of your space taken up by work supplies or your animals’ stuff.

He senses your trepidation and grins. “Don’t worry, I can come back in the morning.”

You suck in a breath. Most of you feels relief, but there’s a small inkling of sadness that pervades your emotions. You barely know Soobin, but his presence provides a warmth that your home has been missing.

It has to be the last traces of alcohol and the simmering grief still in your system.

“Okay. I have work in the morning, but–”

“I’ll be here before you have to leave,” Soobin cuts you off. He holds his hand out in a goodbye, and you take it. His soft palm meets yours and heats your skin, and you have to cut the parting short to not feel any more flustered.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, love.” He leaves you with one more grin before he exits, confusing you further.

The touch of his fingertips on you follows you into sleep, his skin the last coherent sensation you have before it all goes black.

There is a murky quality to the dream you find yourself in. You’re surrounded by grey, the color’s opacity fading only partly as the details become clearer.

The room around you looks more like a cavern than a traditional room. It’s made of stone, cavelike and primitive. The entrance to the area is too vast for a normal door. It’s almost as if you could step out and fall into nothing but clouds. The world outside is a mixture of inky blacks and dark blues, signifying nighttime outside the four rocky walls.

You look back to the inside of the space. It holds a desk covered with paperwork and photographs. You’re alone, standing in the center of it all, but too far away from the papers on the table to see any information.

Before you can step closer, Soobin enters with a blonde man hot on his heels. They both walk right through you, seemingly not noticing your presence at all as they continue their discussion.

They emit their own light somehow, the room nowhere near as dark as when you were alone inside of it.

“If you fail at this, Yeonjun will demote you and have no qualms about doing it.” The blonde man ruffles his hair in frustration, and inches closer to Soobin. They clearly have a close relationship, from the concern on the stranger’s face to the hand that he rests on Soobin's shoulder. “You’ve worked too hard to lose everything, Soobin.”

“I know, Hyuka,” Soobin says in a somber tone, sorting through the papers on his desk. “But she needs me now more than ever. And I know I can help. And if I succeed, I can actually—“

“I get it. We’re just not supposed to get involved unless we’re certain about it. You know this.”

Soobin sighs. “You didn’t see her, Kai. I have to.”

The man named Kai exhales a deep breath and walks away, his pleas seeming to hit a brick wall. The last thing he says, “I hope you know what you’re risking,” barely makes it to your ears. All you notice before Kai’s departure is the unfurling of wings from his back, the white and gray feathers spouting from the tendons just below his shoulders.

You scream when he drops from the entrance, his wings carrying him away. You don’t care if the sound alerts either of the two men, not after witnessing such an unrealistic moment.

You scream again when you hear the unfurling of Soobin’s wings, the sound almost whipping you onto your back from the gust his wings emit. They’re dark grey, larger than Kai’s are. They create such long-casting shadows that you have no question now what Soobin is or where he comes from.

The word replays in your mind as the surrounding scene dematerializes and you wake up with a rapid heartbeat: an angel.

Soobin waits at your door in the same white button-up and jeans he had on the night prior. You welcome him inside, and he looks more ethereal somehow in daylight.

The dream hits you again with its full force, the image of his grey wings flashing across your memory.

“So, you’re an angel,” You say, filling the space between you both with a new tension. The anxiety only permeates from you; Soobin exudes an air of calm instead, despite your accusation.

He almost ticks his head down in a nod as he responds with the words, “Proprietary information.”

You nod your head and gulp hard. Somehow, the aura around you and the subtext in his expression tells you what you know to be true.

He showed you all you needed to know last night through your dreams, a miraculous loophole to the restrictions placed upon him.

When you’re finally ready to go to work, the morning chores around the house finished before Soobin even made it to your doorstep, you look over at the man in front of you again with trepidation. The white attire may lead to a multitude of questions that you and Soobin cannot answer.

“What? Is there something on my face?” Soobin asks, confused.

You laugh and shake your head, any residual tension from your realization broken. “You look a bit too…uniform for the shelter.”

“Oh! Well…” He blushes, unsure how to respond.

An idea pops into your head when his words come up short. “I may have some old stuff that’ll fit you.”

“Why is the rando wearing your dad’s windbreaker?” Beomgyu asks while cleaning Jin, the newest adoptee at the shelter. His eyes peer over at Soobin filling some food bowls with kibble. Soobin’s presence fills the space the same way it did in your house.

He wears your dad’s long-sleeve shirt, windbreaker, and khaki pants well. Despite his freakishly tall height, the clothes don’t look small on him, and you’re relieved he’s able to fit in like any normal guy with the change in wardrobe.

You scoff, continuing to fill out the documents for Jin’s tag and vaccinations without looking up at your friend. “Soobin’s new in town and lost everything on the plane ride here. He just needed to borrow some stuff until his luggage gets delivered.”

Beomgyu nods, still concerned. He goes back to scrubbing Jin’s coat with the anti-tick shampoo, and you leave his spot at the cleaning station to stand beside Soobin.

“You do this every day? These bags are heavy, even for me.” Soobin grunts and clips the bag closed.

“I usually make Gyu or another volunteer do it. But you saved me the trouble of asking.” You smirk and take two of the bowls in your hands. “Want to help me feed the dogs?”

Soobin’s eyes light up, and he nods. You wonder as you walk to the cages if he’s ever interacted with animals before he left his home in the skies.

Since you were a kid, the shelter has always been a part of your daily regimen. Once college was out of the way, you had a stable job waiting for you to practice your veterinary degree on. While some could only handle so many cat scratches, dog poops, and absurd origin stories, it made every day worth it in your eyes. And the fact that you had a history with tending to furry friends with your parents only made it more worthwhile to continue doing.

The second you open the cages to let the dogs eat, you recognize how natural Soobin is at the job. He talks to them in a childlike voice and rubs their bellies as they munch on kibble and necessary medicines you give in between feeding. Even the dogs with the rougher backgrounds take to Soobin like a bee to honey, the warmth he naturally exudes relaxing them.

He truly is an angel, you realize, and not just in the literal sense.

You lock up the shelter for the day with a lot less weight on your shoulders thanks to Soobin. “I might as well give you the keys to this place. It suits you well,” you joke.

Soobin tucks his hands into his windbreaker, smiling hard. “It just came easy, I guess. Animals aren’t like people. They don’t have to hide behind words. It’s all about energy.”

You look at him as you walk away from the building together, your face softened from his words. “My mom always used to say stuff like that. To her, animals were the bestest friends you could ever ask for. She’d say it’s like they see into your soul.”

Soobin grins. “She seems lovely.”

You swallow hard, balling your hands into fists inside your jacket. It’s not anger that permeates your body now, not the way it used to. All that exists is the reality that their words are simply memories. “She was. My dad too. That place was their second home.” You wave your arm in the direction of the shelter. The building diminishes from view as you round the corner to head home. “And mine, too.”

“Did you envision this being your life?” Soobin asks, the question taking you by surprise. “I don’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s okay!” You laugh. “I mean—I love working with the animals every day, and I have great friends. It just can be very routine sometimes, like there’s this gap that I can’t fill.” You hold back the more intimate details of your desires to Soobin, still guarded and uncertain of being so vulnerable so soon.

He steps closer, the walk becoming more intimate with his shoulder almost brushing yours. “You’ve been alone for quite a while. It’s understandable to want to share your life with someone.”

You blush hard, a mixture of the January cold and his correct assumptions building a steady heat on your cheeks. “That’s what most people want, I guess.”

Eyes widening, you realize now why Soobin may be discussing these things with you. Could his super secret mission, which he discussed the night you met, relate to right now?

“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, stopping on the stone street. Soobin only gets a few paces farther than you before he stops.

“Is there something wrong?” He asks, his eyebrows drawn up and his mouth in a small O that you would normally giggle at.

Now, you have no time for humor.

“Did you come here because of the stupid wish I made on New Year’s Eve?”

“Taehyun, if you give me another shot, I will throw up!” You exclaim in a fit of giggles, three drinks already in your system over the last hour and a half. His girlfriend, Kazuha, stands by your side as she downs the shot in her hand, her mouth puckering as she swallows it down. “Zu, I thought you were the DD tonight!”

“Fuck it, I’ll call an Uber.” She winks and chases the shot with a sip of beer. Beomgyu wades through the throng of people in his living room to join all of you in the kitchen.

“Taking shots without me? That’s a party foul.”

“Whatever, man. It’s not like we can’t make more.” Taehyun passes him one filled with tequila to catch up, and Beomgyu downs it in the next second. By the time the buzz of the drinks hits your head, Jungwon barrels into the kitchen with his own girlfriend Yeri to tell you all that the ball is dropping.

Everyone crowds around the television to watch the remaining minute of the year play out. The strangers around you scream out the last seconds, others speak in a drunken lilt.

You turn to your friends, somehow the only person without someone attached to their hip. Beomgyu is holding a random girl's shoulder, while your other friends stand closely together in their respective couples, watching the countdown..

“Four, three, two, one! Happy New Year!” Beomgyu says the words into his date’s neck before kissing her roughly on the lips. Your other friends have their own celebratory make-out sessions. You feel like an intruder as they all enjoy the moment in their respective couples.

You’ve never been a grouch about your single status, not once. But it felt like a part of you was missing out with little of a choice in the matter. Whether by the confines of chance or love simply not being meant for you for the past twenty-seven years, you can only be comfortable for so long before the pain of solitude drains you dry.

Was it so awful to want to find someone to share funny videos with? To talk to about days at the shelter when a cute animal comes in and needs a loving home? When days are heavy on your heart and you need the one you love the most to lift you up and make it all evaporate with a simple “I love you”? To make every struggle and hardship, no matter how big or small, worth it?

And so, with only a drunken mind and heart to listen to your deepest whims, you wish for what seems the most out of reach as your eyes line with tears: a soulmate to bridge the gap between your loneliness and true fulfillment.

When the reality of why Soobin’s here hits you, you can’t help but release one of the loudest laughs you’ve ever emitted before.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” you say with exasperated breaths, all the air in your lungs saved mostly for your laughter. “You came all the way from up there to play matchmaker?”

Soobin chuckles to himself, the sounds that leave his lips a lot quieter than yours. “You make it sound so childish.”

“Can you blame me?” You ask. “I don’t need help in that department!”

Soobin gives you a knowing look, hitting you somewhere deep in the chest. “Then I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

“Okay, don’t speak in riddles to me!”

“I’m just stating facts, love.”

You roll your eyes, and Soobin laughs again. “So you’re magically going to find me the perfect partner after only knowing me for 48 hours?”

“I’ve known you for much longer than that.” He steps even closer to you, your fingers brushing his as he stands a few inches from you. “But again, it’s—“

“Proprietary information, I get it,” you whisper. You cough into your fist and glide past him, the moment broken. “Either way, I am just fine with or without a boyfriend, Soobin.”

He follows behind without a word, but you sense his smile without looking at him. Jerk.

Soobin has helped many people in his immortal life. It’s an existence he couldn’t fill in just one book. He’d have to go back centuries to the very moment he started his work as a guardian. His life began long before that, but his true merits came when he started helping those who needed supernatural guidance.

He’s seen from his eagle’s eye view many heartbreaks, losses, successes, and love stories, but nothing as encapsulating as the story of your life.

You were a vision to see the first time you held an animal in your hands, hands tepid but heart full from the creature giving all of its affection to you for you to reciprocate wholeheartedly. He was in awe of you when you stepped across the stage with your degree, eager to put all the knowledge you gained about medicine to a good use. And his ever-still heart ached with yours the second you got that phone call in November five years ago, wanting nothing more than to catch you before your knees hit the tile below.

You’re the one assignment he’s kept too close an eye on, the others in his caseload not holding his focus so strongly. He succumbed to forbidden desires, wishes he knew were unattainable.

But the second he felt your heart break on the one night he knew he could seize the chance to step over the border between Heaven and Earth, he chose the only option that felt right: he had to leave home and heal what needed to be mended inside of you a long time ago.

He watches you help the teenage girl adopting her first pet with immense adoration.

You check off the supplies needed for Jin and all the vaccines the dog will need moving forward with clinical focus. It’s admirable how dedicated you are to your work, not caring if it went beyond the bounds of a traditional work-life balance.

And when you wave the teenager and her parents out the door and turn to him with a signature eye-roll, he can’t stop the way his skin heats. Your gaze in his direction screams: How long are you going to keep pestering me?

Forever, he says to himself with a hell of a lot of hope.

When you’re both alone in the shelter, one hour after you’re closed for the day, you sweep the floors in a huff. “I am telling you I do not need you to play matchmaker for me.”

“You keep saying that and yet I’m still here, love,” Soobin tuts, flipping through the magazine on top of your desk. He sits at the chair opposite from the receptionist counter so casually, feet crossed and casual despite his heart yearning to explain everything to you.

I’m here because I can’t take any more of your pain. Because someone deserves to know how special you are. Because I—

Soobin chuckles to himself and flips to another page of the magazine, but he can’t deny how his focus remains on you, the center of his attention, for longer than he expected.

“Lee Heeseung, twenty-two. Works at the ramen shop downtown. Entirely incompatible with you. Just for your information.”

You stop sweeping and aim an accusatory eye at him. “And that’s not proprietary information how?”

“I’m not looking out for him. And that only took a couple of Google searches to figure out, love.”

By the time you lock up the store, Soobin is in the habit of checking the door behind you to make sure you didn’t miss the back door or forget to close the play-gate on the way out. Two weeks of observing your routine up close has given him incredible intel, and not just into your schedule.

“Let’s walk past downtown,” Soobin suggests, taking your hand and walking through a new pattern of alleyways and cobblestone paths.

You’re unsure why this route that adds another ten minutes to your walk is worth the trouble, but you take his advice, anyway. He’s your angel for a reason, after all.

“Soobin, unless you suddenly got a hankering for human food, we really should—“

You knock into someone’s shoulders hard; the impact sends you to the gravel. Soobin vanishes from view, his name on your tongue the second you recognize that you’re on the ground.

A pair of hands that aren’t Soobin’s, more calloused and robust, lift you up off the ground.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been standing so close to the alleyway.”

A beautiful pair of brown eyes gaze at yours, and it stops you dead in your tracks. The stranger’s brown hair falls over his face in a mess of free curls, some of them tinged with sweat. He wears a baking apron around his waist; flour and, you presume, icing cover his shirt.

You look at the building next to you, the pastel pink sign reading “Gyu’s Baked Goods” beaming over your head. And you turn back to the man in question, the baker himself as his hands keep you sturdy on your scraped feet.

“It’s totally fine. I’m the one who should be sorry. I mean, I wasn’t looking anyway and I—“

You chuckle and take his hand, the handshake gentle for the size of his palm. It reminds you of a sturdy fireplace, strong but tender. “Pleased to meet you. Apologies for having the build of a leaf.”

Soobin looks on with a knot in his stomach from an opposite alleyway. The process has begun, and he cannot halt its progress. No matter if he wants to be the one in the human male’s place.

Soobin watches on as Mingyu stands with you by the kennels, acid simmering on his tongue from watching the two of you in such a chummy position.

He clutches the novel in his hands with intense pressure, on the edge of ripping pages between his fingers. For the past week and a half, you and Mingyu have spent time together as new acquaintances, giving Sobbing time to read mortal literature.

He should be happy for you; his initial plan to find someone who fits your life and wishes so well is going perfectly. Yet why does he wish he could rewind time and take it back?

To your pleasure and Soobin’s secret dismay, Mingyu’s surprise gift of homemade mini animal treats made the day an amazing experience for all three of you.

You pay no mind to Soobin’s sudden and off-putting sulking as you show Mingyu around the animal shelter, your new friend interested in your job as much as you’re intrigued by him.

Beomgyu saunters up to Soobin with a bag of kibble in his hands, clicking his tongue. “It’s tough, isn’t it, man?”

Soobin huffs and looks at the younger man, the aura around your friend similar to his back home. If only Kai could see him now, grumbling and pouting like a kicked puppy.

“What is?”

“Seeing the girl you like with someone else. I mean, she’s pretty great so I get it.”

Soobin rolls his eyes and goes back to the novel in his hands to distract himself. His jaw ticks when he hears your laughter. The sound creates such a beautiful symphony to his ears, but it’s not reserved for him at the moment, and it makes his stomach turn. “You’re wrong.”

“Okay, dude. I get it. None of my business.” Beomgyu lifts the bag over his shoulder and starts walking, but looks back at Soobin with a smirk. “But maybe it might be mutual if you gave it a shot.”

Soobin scoffs at the kid, and then at himself for the split second he entertains the idiot’s idea. Soobin can pine all he wants, but he knows the boundaries. A multitude of reasons prevent this line from ever being crossed.

He may have incredibly powerful feelings for you, but they’re hidden away and unable to reach the light of day. Not just because he has a strategy for you and Mingyu, but he is not an acceptable suitor because he doesn’t belong here, simply put. Earth is only a temporary stay on his list. And when he goes back and reports to Yeonjun of his success, who knows what will happen?

All he knows is that your paths will cross only once in his and your lifetime, and never again.

Soobin almost remains stuck in his misery until you walk up to him with an orange icing-colored dog bone treat in your hands. You hold it out to him with a shy smile. “For you.”

He smirks, taking the snack from you and rotating it between his fingers. “Isn’t this for the dogs, love?”

And the signature eye roll comes, your bottom lip between your teeth as you do it. “They’re organic. Anyone can eat them.” You look back at him directly, suddenly concerned. “You can eat, right?”

He chuckles. Nodding his head, he looks back at the snack. “Just not sure if I’ll like it.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Just try it, please?”

Reluctantly, he bites down. Sweet potatoes and carrots, harmoniously blended, flood his mouth. The icing and pinch of cinnamon provides the perfect level of sweetness to round it all out, and Soobin groans. Even the dog treats the guy makes are perfect.

“Okay, it’s pretty great,” Soobin admits, taking another bite. “Even if they’re meant for dogs.”

You laugh and take a tiny corner for yourself. “At least you can say you’ve eaten a dog bone.”

Who can blame you? He’s ethereal, his magnetism undeniable. But that warmth he’s had from the first day you met is why you can only stay away for so long. He’s a part of your world now, and you can’t imagine that changing in the foreseeable future.

He’s made his place on Earth with you, and you dread the day he has to go back to where he belongs.

The end of January brings the last time for branches to stay vacant of leaves. You notice the small sprouts of leaves amidst the brown limbs as you and Soobin walk back to your house. You bite back a smile, and Soobin comments on it.

It’s like he clenches your heart between his fingers as he says it. “You always hide your excitement like nobody should be watching. Like it’s wrong to be happy about the little things.”

You blush while strolling beside him. “It’s not that I’m hiding it. Maybe I just don’t think anyone will get why I’m happy about certain things.”

Soobin bumps you with his shoulder, a close-mouthed smile on his lips. “Try me.”

You exhale a breath to get your bearings. “Okay, so everyone is always excited about the start of the new year. But then it’s like the excitement dies down and we just go on our merry way until the next holiday comes up. It’s not in the days for me. It’s the environment that always makes me feel the shift, you know?

“Like with animals, almost. The energy is unique, and I feel it when I see the colors and feel the temperature fluctuate.” You shake your head and tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “That may sound stupid, but—“

Soobin stops you on the open sidewalk, taking your hand in his. He looks into your eyes earnestly, wanting you to take his words to heart before he says them. “Nothing you’ve ever said to me is stupid, love. Every thought you have is beautiful because it’s yours.”

Like the town greenery, something shifts inside of you then. Even on the rest of the walk home and the talk over dinner about the day at the shelter, you sense an unfamiliar emotion swirling in the air between you and Soobin. You can’t name it, but it reminds you of the first blooms of spring, brimming with promise.

The first week of February comes in a tidal wave. Many people flood the animal shelter looking for the perfect furry friend to complete their family on the cusp of Valentine’s Day.

All you can hope for is that a majority of them, or at least fifty percent, don’t come back to the shelter after the holiday is over to return the animals looking for forever homes.

That was the one thing that bugged you the most about this job: biting your tongue at the obvious lack of responsibility people put into owning pets.

It holds more weight than anyone knows, bringing another being in your home to tend to like a child. The only difference is that many of them have histories that deserve more care than normal, and some don’t want to put in the right amount of effort.

You sit on these thoughts as Soobin holds the newest cat to the shelter in his hands. “Have you thought of a name for Mr. Cat yet?” Soobin inspects the spot near the cat’s tail. “Or Missus?”

You giggle and grab the clipboard with the cat’s information on it. “He’s a he, Soob. You can come up with a name.”

He ponders the choices, before his smile grows and he presses his nose to the cat’s. “How about Hyuka?” He rubs the back of the cat’s ears tenderly.

You grin at Soobin and brush your fingers over Hyuka’s fur. “I think it’s a perfect fit.”

Soobin looks over at you with bright eyes, his expression transforming into one that feels like the one you held that day so long ago when he called your thoughts beautiful. A question forms on his tongue, but it flits away the second Mingyu walks through the double doors of the animal shelter with a bouquet of daisies.

At least the jerk knows your favorite flowers, Soobin thinks to himself as he walks with Hyuka back to his block in the back room.

You smile at Mingyu and thank him for the flowers, immediately pressing your nose to them to inhale their smell. “They’re amazing, thank you.”

“My buddy Wonwoo is a florist, so don’t thank me too much. I got a discount even though I should’ve paid full price.”

“Can’t beat a couple bucks off.” You set the bundle down on your desk and cross your arms over the countertop. “I take it you’re not just here to deliver flowers?”

Mingyu chuckles and presses a hand to his neck, his toned biceps stretching out his shirt. “Actually, I was going to ask if you had any plans for Valentine’s.”

You stumble on your explanation, discussing the closure of the shelter for the holiday. “Well,” Mingyu starts, “I was thinking you could come by for dinner. And I promise it won’t just be me making you taste test cupcakes again.”

You laugh, but the sound falls flat. You had always been the one pining, yearning for the boy you liked to like you back. Being on the other side of the coin was not exactly ideal. “Mingyu, you know I appreciate you and I am flattered, but…”

Soobin.

You’re unsure how to continue, but Mingyu holds a hand up in understanding. “I get it. How about I make you a meal, anyway? Consider it a friend treating a friend for all of her hard work.”

You blush and nod. “I’d like that very much.”

You’re washing dried-up wet food from the cat bowls when Soobin walks up to you, his face red. By the time Mingyu left, you expected Soobin to come back to your side so you could wash the dishes together. You did it yourself, seeing as he took forever to come back. Soobin asks with a tone of authority, “What the hell are you thinking?”

You poke your cheek with your tongue, contemplating. “I’m thinking Hyuka’s chances of getting adopted before Valentine’s is about—“

“You know that wasn’t what I meant, love.” He says the pet name with annoyance as he drops one bowl into the sink next to you. His tone catches you off guard, not expecting to see Soobin angry for the first time like this.

“You asked me what I was thinking, and I’m telling you.”

“Why did you say no to the date?” Soobin asks, his eyes blazing with fury. Something without a name sits below though, you can tell.

“I, technically, didn’t say no. It’s just more friendly than romantic.”

“Do you expect me to find you another soulmate like this?” Soobin drops another dirty plate in the sink for you to clean up. You don’t know if the question is exactly for you or for himself.

The tension sits thickly in the air, the running tap the only sound for a good minute or two. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” you respond, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

Your cheekiness makes Soobin chuckle deeply. You missed his laugh, you realize, not hearing the sound in a while. Not since before Mingyu came around. “What am I gonna do with you, love?”

You shrug and go back to washing the bowls, hiding your smile behind soap suds and dishwater.

Soobin’s leg shakes as he sits on your couch, watching the clock on the spot above your door. 10:49 PM. He’s been waiting for hours to welcome you home from your “friendly” date with Mingyu. Admittedly, he’s been waiting since the second you left, the night of Valentine’s Day on the forefront of his brain since he heard the meathead ask you to have dinner.

Minho and Key keep him company, the older animals in your horde understanding and patient while Soobin mopes around. The angel feels as impatient as Bori can be when she has to wait for dinner.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Soobin says to Key, the chihuahua’s overbite hanging almost like a taunt. “I’m not stewing.”

He’s definitely stewing. The animals must be saying to each other, conspiring about what will occur when their mother finally gets home.

And on the cusp of eleven, you walk into the house and unbuckle your heels. You watch Soobin on the couch, his hands fidgeting on his lap. “Have you been sitting there for three hours?” You ask in a cute tone that drives Soobin nuts.

“No, I made the animals dinner.” You set your bag on the iron wrack where your coats lie, and throw your shoes in some corner of the living room before Soobin continues with, “So, how was the date?”

You stride to the mirror, beginning to unclasp the flashy studs in your ears. “It was fine. Nothing special. Just two friends having dinner.”

“That’s all it was? No candles at the table, no romantic music, nothing?”

“Why are you so concerned, Soobin? I went out, I had fun, now I’m home.” Soobin’s not prepared to hear your voice so clipped and direct. Your frustration is usually a mask of humor or concern. Not genuine anger, like right now. You don’t look at him directly, continuing to remove your jewelry as your ire grows.

You try to de-escalate the argument by retreating to the kitchen, but he only follows you there. And moving back into the living doesn’t help either. “Stop following me, Soobin!”

“Stop running away,” he barks back.

“I will when you stop making a big deal out of this.”

“It is a big deal,” he says with a scoff. “And am I not allowed to worry about you and who you’re with?” He asks with a bite that matches your irritation.

“Why are you so concerned if Mingyu’s the person you wanted to set me up with in the first place?”

“Don’t ask me that question,” he whispers. His jaw tightens and his hands clam up, but you don’t give in. If he wants to finish the discussion, then you’ll continue to press him for an answer.

“Why? What kind of ‘proprietary information’ relates to how you feel about this? What does me going out with Mingyu and you being a complete ass about it have anything to do with top-secret intel?”

“I love you, alright?!” He yells, standing stock still as his veins pulse in his head and neck. His hands go to the messy strands of his hair, almost like he feels himself going crazy at his own confession. “I did not mean to, and it’s awful. I can’t give you the life you deserve. Someone like Mingyu or any other human man would be lucky to have you, yet I can barely stomach the thought of someone else getting to touch you in all the ways I wish I could. And it’s driving me insane.”

The confession knocks something loose inside of you, remaining inhibitions be damned if it means now that the feelings Soobin harbors mirror your own without a doubt.

You step closer to him, the tension almost too much to bear any longer. You press your hands to his neck, and bring him closer until your lips are a mere inch apart. “Nothing and nobody’s stopping you, Soobin.”

He takes a deep breath to hold himself back, grounding himself so he doesn’t do something that will upend both of your worlds. “You don’t know that, love.”

You chuckle softly. “Maybe not, but I do know that I love you too.”

Soobin only gives himself a second of separation from you to catch his breath before he dives back in for one, two, three more kisses. He moans eagerly into your mouth. He tugs on the fabric of your dress to occupy his hands, his body hungry for any contact he can get.

Heavens do be damned, if it means he can keep you between his arms and against his lips.

Your back hits the bed as Soobin attaches his lips to your neck. The dogs scratch at the locked door of your bedroom, but you know they’ll give up after another minute of waiting for a result that will never come. You have other priorities to tend to.

Soobin’s lips and teeth mark you up as he travels along your skin with his mouth. He removes your dress and his shirt so your skin is in closer contact, the feeling of his every present warmth lighting you from the inside out. Your undergarments are still in the way, but you know they’ll be discarded soon.

“You do not know how many days I wished for this,” he mumbles into the spot between your breasts, his kisses setting you on fire to the point you can barely tell where he’s going next. He unclasps the clips holding your bra together, your top half now bare for his eyes to witness.

He marvels at the fullness of your chest before he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He licks at the skin as he suckles. The action pulls a moan from your lips, your body thrusting up at nothing but open air.

“You can touch me in other ways, Soobin,” you gasp, taking his hand in yours and intertwining your fingers.

He blushes a deep crimson, releasing your nipple from his lips. “I don’t know how,” he admits.

You take his hand to guide lower to the top of your underwear, urging him to slip his hand inside. He does so, immediately finding the wetness of your folds against his fingertips. “You can move them around—just like that.”

He takes your advice and expertly finds your clit to take between his thumb and index finger. Your hips buck up into his touch, and he smirks against your lips. He asks, “Is this what you like?”

“Yes, please.” He takes your underwear off to freely glide his fingers in and out of you, three of the digits simultaneously filling you but leaving you aching for more. “Please, Soobin, please,” you beg.

“What do you want, my love? Don’t hold back.”

“I want you inside of me,” you confess. He listens to your request without question. Unbuckling his pants, his cock springs free to make your eyes linger to the bottom half of his body. You don’t guess for long what it feels like, as he immediately sinks into you to make your eyelids flutter.

“Holy shit,” you exclaim, pressing your hands to his lower back, pushing him in deeper until he’s filling you to the hilt.

“You feel amazing.” Soobin says the words against your lips as he thrusts for the first time. He pulls completely before slipping back in, groaning the entire way.

While you appreciate the slow movement of his body against yours, not too eager to rush the experience, you cling to him with eager fingers, hoping the message will come across. “Soobin, go faster.”

You’ve only ever been with two other men in your life, two lackluster experiences in college you wished to forget. All the time between now was just a waiting game, you only willing to go the distance when you felt it was with the right person. And it seems like all the failures in your history have led you to this perfect blip in time.

Like Soobin can read your mind, he slows down just enough so he can whisper to you, “It’s always been you. It’s only ever been you.”

You can’t help the tear that forms in your eye, but it’s quickly kissed away with Soobin’s lips on your cheek and, subsequently, your mouth.

“I’m gonna come, Soobin. Please don’t stop.” His hips work faster, his thumb pressing down and rubbing your clit harder, and you can barely feel your body before it lights up in every area.

Your toes curl, your mouth slacks, and your soul explodes as the pleasure overtakes you. You feel empty yet so full from the endorphins released from your orgasm.

Soobin continues to move his hips against yours. His pace stutters, signaling his own release. He captures his lips with yours as he spills inside of you, your body his to claim completely. Nobody has ever had you in this way—emotionally, mentally, physically.

When you tell Soobin “I love you,” you mean it in every facet of reality, your soul intimately linked with his otherworldly one.

“I love you too, my love.” He smiles like a bashful child, taking you into his arms and pulling you closer as the night continues on outside. When you again, bodies intertwined between your sheets, all that you wish for now is for the moment to last forever.

And when you fall asleep that night in his arms a few hours later, you pray to every god you can name that it never ends.

The expectation of waking up to the warmth of Soobin’s arms and kisses dies when you feel his empty side of the bed. You search the entire house , your dogs padding behind you as you search every corner for him.

To your terror and slowly breaking heart, he remains to be seen. Soobin is gone like he was never there to begin with, your house flooding with a chill that hits you to the core.

Yeonjun has his head in his hand when another pair of associates throw Soobin in front of his desk. Soobin put up an intense fight in the resulting scuffle to bring him back to the office above Earth, but he doesn’t regret it. The only thing he regrets is not leaving you with some sort of explanation, even something as little as a minute to tell you he loves you.

“When I approved your descent, I expected you to help your assignment. Not sleep with her.” Yeonjun sighs and reads over the paperwork at his desk. “The guys above me are gonna love this.”

“Jun, please.” Soobin falls down on his scraped knees and raises his hands in a prayer. “Let me just tell her—”

“What else is there to explain? You’ve clearly done enough.”

“I’m begging you—”

“You think I’m going to let you spend another second with her and make me look like an idiot? No.” He slams his hand on the desk. “If you’re lucky, Soobin, all the archangels will do is send you to the second circle of Hell. I’m surprised they’re not reprimanding me as your superior. You broke our greatest oath.”

Do not consort with humans, Soobin reminds himself as tears stream down his face. “I love her, Yeonjun. And you know she loves me. Didn’t I do my job? I found her a soulmate, just like she wished for.”

Yeonjun shakes his head with a sad smirk. “Don’t think you can get around our rules this time, Soobin. I just called you here to tell you the council will see you in the morning. Be grateful they’re giving you a chance to explain yourself.”

The angels that brought Soobin in drag him away to the lower cells of the building. As he’s pushed and pulled through dark hallways, Soobin has barely enough time to come up with a plan to fix what he’s ruined. Barely.

Your dream is almost the same as the one you envisioned months ago, the dark cavern welcoming you like an old friend. The fog of your transition from sleep to dreaming still pervades your senses. You barely have time to make out the details before Soobin has you wrapped in his arms, holding you so tightly that you feel the air knocked out of your lungs. “Thank God it worked.”

You sob immediately when you recognize Soobin’s voice and his arms around you. It’s like a magnet the way you gravitate to one another, not worrying if the dream will last a second or into eternity. You can barely remember the pain of being without him now that he’s in front of you.

You call his name as he kisses the crown of your hair. He backs you into the desk at the far end of the room, lifting you up by the legs to sit on its marble top. He trails his lips down until they meet your own, and he says so tenderly, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there when you woke up.”

Breaking into a fit of sad laughter, you run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m just happy you’re here with me now.” You kiss him again and again, until your lips feel bruised and sore.

Soobin sheds a tear and looks back into the night outside of his office door. “I don’t have long. They’ll bring me back to my cell soon. But I wanted to tell you I love you. And I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

“W-Why are you being punished? You did what you were s-supposed to,” you stutter, a mournful knot building in your throat.

“I fell in love with a human when I shouldn’t have,” he answers, another tear welling in his eye. “But it was worth every rule I broke. How could I regret finding my best friend?” Soobin smiles despite the pain that you two share.

You hiccup into his neck. “When will I see you again?”

“I-I don't know. But I’ll fix this,” he assures you, a steadfast determination in his expression.

“You don’t know that for sure, though,” you cry, heart ripping deeper at the seams with each word.

“I don’t, but for now, know that I love you. I love you more than my existence allows.” He kisses you one more time as the edges of your dream blur. “It’s only for now, I promise.”

When you wake tangled in the comforter on your bed, the morning sky bleeding through your window, you begin the torture of waiting for the person you love most in the world to come back to you.

TWO MONTHS LATER

For the past seven Fridays since Soobin left, you’ve stayed in and waited for the phone to ring or the doorbell to sound, any way to signify that he hasn’t broken his promise. You don’t bother going into work, trying to find any excuse to stay in the house.

Beomgyu tries to get you out, go on dates, avoid the aching hole in your chest, but he doesn’t understand. None of your friends do. They think he’s left without an explanation like another random asshole would, but they don’t understand how wrong they are.

They’ll never understand you’re waiting for the one who took your heart between his hands and still holds it to this day, even if you can’t see him for now.

For now. The words play in your mind on a loop, the sound of Soobin’s voice as vivid as the day he said them between kisses in your dream. It’s only for now, I promise.

This Friday, you take his words to heart and decide to go out. You walk Key and Bori, the morning sun turning into an afternoon sky clear of clouds. The warmer weather signals winter is giving way to spring, although you can still feel the chill in your bones.

When you bring the dogs back home, you’re still too restless to stay inside, too many memories in the house haunting you with Soobin’s presence.

You walk around the town streets, the memories of those you love the most filling your heart with a solemn nostalgia that edges out the parts of you that are still miserable. You and Beomgyu learning to ride bikes around the animal shelter. Your parents treating you to your first scoop of mint chocolate ice cream after you won gold at your spelling contest. The kiss you shared with Soobin in your living room, and all the kisses that followed.

Each one contains longing for the past, yet offers some hope for making fresh memories in the same spots. And even locations you haven’t discovered yet.

By the second trip around the blocks you know too well, nighttime rears its head. The city lights mark the street names and numbers with a yellow glow, the heavens above pitch black.

Your legs are sluggish, ankles sore from continuing through the world around you without stopping for rest, but no physical excursion compared to the mental expedition you’ve been on today, a microcosm for all of your tangled emotions for the past two months.

You almost give into the demands of your body when you hear the faintest sound of your name behind you. Turning on shaking limbs, you see the perfect contours and edges of the man you love in crystal clarity. His shoulders heave as his face remains wet with tears, his body on the verge of convulsing from the travel back to you.

Although every muscle strains and screams inside of you, you run towards him with all of your might and crash into his arms. The water on your cheeks mixes with his when your skin touches. He kisses each tear before he reaches your lips, his mouth tasting of salt and peppermint.

“I’m here. I’m here, my love.” He strokes your hair with his hand and runs the other across your back.

“I didn’t get to say I love you too, last time I saw you,” you say, the words tumbling over one another as you try getting them about. You’re crying and mumbling and it all feels incoherent, but you know every sound you emit is true.

Soobin chuckles, and you’re reminded how beautiful the sound of his laughter is. “You never had to say it back, my love. I already knew.”

Your heartbeat is erratic, but it doesn’t distract you from the fact Soobin’s heart seems to beat as well. A strong, even-tempered rhythm, one you’ve never heard before. You look him deep in the eyes, needing to hear the words on his lips. “Are you—“

His voice is still hoarse and tattered, but his smile is like the salve to all of your wounds. “I told you I would come back to you.”

You whimper, another tear escaping from your eyes. “You gave up everything for me? Your immortality, your friends, your—”

He presses a finger to your lips before running it over your cheek, his expression soft. “I completed my mission. And my everything is right here with me.”

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy @biteyoubiteme @jjunbug

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @moadiarynet @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

#xylatox fic recs #txt fic #txt fics #tomorrow x together fic #tomorrow x together fics #soobin fics #soobin fic #choi soobin fics #txt smut #txt x reader #tomorrow x together smut #soobin x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi soobin smut #soobin smut #choi soobin fic

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midnghtprentiss · 16 hours ago

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Can I request for Jack Abbot x fem reader? Their child wanted pet(s) and Jack just wouldn't let him since he wasn't convinced that they would take care of it and he's busy with work and so does her. Their kid persuaded her and she tried to tempted Jack to give in. Doing everything just to let him say yes. Jack knew his answer but just wanted to mess you with them🫣. Kisses, fluff, suggestive. Thanks!! :))

a/n: this is my first request omg omg omg, i absolutely loved your request! i changed a few times but hope it matches what you wanted. have fun dear. sorry if there's some mistakes, english is not my first language. enjoyyyy :)

mission called convincing daddy to get us what we want - jack abbot

pairing: jack abbot x wife!reader warnings: jack as girls dad, suggestive content

Parenthood was amazing. You loved it more than you expected. You loved being a mom as much as Jack loved being a dad and he was really proud to be a girl's dad. Your twin girls were the reason for him to absolutely love the new version of him.

Evangeline and Cecilia were his sunshine, his everything. He would die and kill if meant to make them smile. Even before they came to the world he was excited about the idea of having two versions of himself with the person he loves. He spent nights imagining how life would be so much cooler and brighter, he even confessed to you that he always wanted to be a girl dad but never had the chance to make it right before you.

The whole pregnancy wasn’t easy, you had a lot of pain, restrictions and anxiety at the same time. Growing two girls at once was a hell of a full time job and apparently will be for a long time. You were eating more, sleeping more, feeling bigger than ever, you can’t even count how many clothes didn’t fit anymore. You started by doing less shifts and when you did, Jack made sure you didn’t work harder, which led you to a few fights.

“Jack, pregnancy is not a disease. I am more than capable of doing my job and still have two children inside of me.”

“I’m not letting you do everything you want so you can prove something to other people.” You laughed in his face.

“I am a doctor first and then a mother. So please, let me enjoy this moment before I’ll spend my days being known only as a mother.”

Everything changed when you got to hold your girls for the first time and actually be a better mom than the one you have. It was a full time job, the hardest job you’ve ever had, 24/7 of being alert and on the edge of your seat for the smallest things. You didn’t showered for almost a week after you got to bring them home, you cried when they cried and the worst part of it all was the excruciating feeling that you were already failing.

Jack was your number one supporter, your safe haven and he was happy to be there. He dealt with the sleepless nights like a champ, always holding the girls, giving them what they needed just for you to sleep for a while, he didn't even complain about being sleep deprived, he just accepted it. But he never told you how terrified he was of sucking at the only job he couldn’t fail. How he was afraid of sleeping and missing something important, or how anxious he was when they were out of his plain sight. He didn’t tell you he almost gave up being a doctor to stay with the girls.

As they grew up, you both understood how to be better parents and that brought you closer than ever, creating boundaries and rules to make this right. You agreed on coming back to work at your own pace, making cohesive schedules and trying your best not to go home during shifts. You worked the day shift so he stayed with them and he stayed with the girls all day and he worked at night shift for you to be home during bedtime.

Real teamwork.

Cecilia was like a mini version of Jack. She was bossy, talkative and had the same bad attitude as him, which sometimes made your life so difficult, but she was glued to you. Everywhere you went, she was there like a shadow. Evangeline was a whole version of you, she was sweet, calm and did her best to be nice to everyone and yet Jack was the only one who could calm her down when she wasn’t having a good day.

There were nights Ange cried non stop because she wanted daddy and as a consequence Cece cried because her sister was crying. You have to call him at two in the morning, knowing he was busy with a trauma, trying your best to not cry on the phone, asking him to talk to her. Or when Cece was giving him an attitude because he wanted her mama so bad that everyone else was an enemy, he had to call you just for her to feel better.

You decided to change your tactics again and put the girls to socialize in preschool. At first you hated the idea as much as Jack but eventually you decided to give it a try. They absolutely loved it. The first week was filled with tears and anxiety (from you, especially), the desire of bringing them home and putting the whole experiment behind. By the second week the girls begin to cry less and be more excited about going. It was a relief for your mind and both of you could focus more at work.

At six years old you could see these girls were smarter than you imagined. They talked about what they learned at kindergarten and included details about everything they knew and saw. There was no better feeling than watching your favorite human beings embracing their personality.

One day after school during a pick up, you noticed them speaking quietly and giggling with each other pointing at some drawings in their notebooks.

“What’s happening here? Am I missing something?” Ange and Cece looked at each other and giggled louder.

“Mama, we want a dog.” Cece screamed and lifted up her piece of paper.

“Oh really? Why do you want a dog?” You asked curious.

“Today Mrs. Sunny told us about responsibilities and she told us having a pet helped us with that.” Ange was so excited and her sister was agreeing on everything. “We are big girls now.” Big girls that made her father look under the bed every night for monsters.

“Girls, having a pet is a big thing. Me and daddy are really busy taking care of more things to have animals.” You tried to sound soft, knowing how emotional they can get. “Plus, I don’t if you’re ready for this kind of responsibility.”

“We can help!” Cece jumped in, “We can give them food, water, snuggles and we can take them to our walks with daddy.”

That would be fun, you think to yourself, Jack was going to have a stroke when you tell him that. Or better, you’ll let them speak to him.

The idea of a pet was something you and him already talked about. During your pregnancy you had long conversations with your husbands on the subject, you grew up with animals and in fact helped you with the responsibility of taking care of the people you loved. He wasn’t against it, but you’re both busy and now with two kids taking a lot of attention and time, an animal would make it worse and more chaotic.

“I agree with you, girls.” Of course you agreed with them, the smiles they gave you is more than enough. “We need to convince dad to let us have a pet, what do you think?” They squealed and laughed, starting to make some plans and creating some crazy scenarios where the pet was included. “I suggest you two work on something really good for him and we talk about this before dinner, alright?”

When you got home, Jack was already waiting outside. Crossed arms, polo shirt, faded jeans. What a view. The moment he opened the car door for them, they were already on him, talking about their day and showering him with hints about the conversation that would happen later.

He just looked at you confused and nodding with whatever sentence was coming out of their mouths. You walked behind them, contemplating the sweet view of your family.

While Cece and Angel were doing their homework, you were studying a few things for your lecture and Jack was making dinner. You approached him quietly and held his face to make him look directly at you.

“We have a problem, a big one.” His heart almost stopped at your words. “They want a dog.”

“Really?” He chuckled, going back to slicing the onions.

“Something about Mrs. Sunny teaching about responsibility.” You poured yourself some wine and leaned against the counter. “They are on a mission called convincing daddy to get us what we want. It’s gonna be tough on you, buddy.”

“What exactly did you say to them?” He put the knife down and stared at you.

“I said the truth. We’re busy and getting a pet would add more chaos into our lives but I said yes.” You said quietly and he raised his eyebrows. “I can’t resist them, you know that!”

Dinner was chaotic. Cecilia and Evangeline were on fire telling all the good reasons for having cats and dogs. They even called themselves ‘doctor daughters’ and their specialty is love and snuggles. You held your smile the whole time, while Jack was so hypnotized by them he didn’t even blink.

“Girl, I understand you really really really want that but we need to discuss it better.” Their eyes were full of water and while he talked about their busy life, their school time and the extracurricular they do, a dog was harder.

“But we are good girls, daddy.” You almost got up and went to the nearest shelter to get the damn dog.

“I know, bug.”

After bedtime you were laying next to Jack, tracing lines in his chest and you couldn’t stop thinking about their wish of having an animal. Jack knew this conversation was about to happen for the way you tucked them in bed and he heard you saying you would try to convince him using your ‘supermom powers’. Before the conversation started he was already laughing.

You smacked his chest and rolled your eyes, trying to focus on whatever you were about to say to him.

“You know why we can’t have a dog.” You looked at him.

“Why not? Are you afraid he will steal your prosthetic leg?” He burst out laughing holding your arm.

“You would like that, didn’t you?” He teased and your eyes studied his face.

“Jack, we are raising two girls. A dog can make our job easier.” You think about your next words. “It can teach them responsibility.”

“A dog can be dangerous.” He found it amusing how you rolled your eyes every time you disagreed.

“Men are dangerous, a dog is the sweetest thing they can have. Besides, we can use that to make them stop asking for another sibling.” You reminded him, getting more comfortable against his body.

“You have a very good point, love.”

“Of course I have.”

“A sibling?” You giggled, hiding your face between his chest. “They can have a dog and a sibling, then.”

“Easy there, tiger. It’s debatable since I’m the one who carries the children here.”

“Everybody wins something here, just saying.”

“You’re a trouble, Jack Abbot.”

“You married me.” He held your face, caressing your cheeks gently.

It took Jack three days to get a dog. He talked to an old army friend of his that had the contact of a guy that had retired dogs and just like that, you got a dog - Luke. He’s the nicest, trained and responded very well to the girls clinging on to him.

You’ve never seen them so excited and happy to have a furry friend and the best part is watching Jack pretending he’s not blusinh watching his girls run around the backyard. You were sitting next to him, listening to Angel and Cece squeal every time Luke licked their faces and screamed when he runs from them.

“About the sibling situation.” He smirked and watched your face with the same look that got you pregnant before.

“Not before bedtime, Abbot.” You pushed his shoulder.

“Can’t wait for our talk later.”

Maybe life is worth it for the moments like that where everybody is truly happy.

#the pitt #dr abbot #dr abbot x reader #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot imagine

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missadangel · 20 hours ago

Text

MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 8: Trick or Threat

series masterlist

Chapter Summary: You and Harry are officially together, and everything’s going really well. However, something else is on the horizon… What could it be? Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, Lucy as his ex, John as Lucy's ex, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, oral sex, p in v sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance, I might have missed some warnings; I will update them in due time. Chapter Word Count: 9,5k, SMUT & ROMANCE & INTRIGUE, feelings!!! fluffy, rom-com, lust, passion, jealousy, dirty talk, love triangle, intrigue, funeral, mention about death, car, racing authors note: Thank you all for your support, asks, comments, reblogs and likes. I appreciate each and every one of you! Love you all!

"When I returned from France, I took the reins of the business. Gerardo, Maria's husband, had managed things in my absence, but I could tell it was tough given their divorce. We're still piecing things back together."

In the morning, you two were lying in bed, just chatting and trying to unearth the smallest secrets lingering between you and Harry.

“So, was work really the reason you went to France or was it all about Lucy?”

Harry propped himself up on his elbow, looking deep into your eyes. “I can’t deny it; I was hurt. That much is true. But it didn’t last long. I threw myself into work to keep the melancholy at bay. But then I realized how unfair I was being to myself. Why should I mourn someone who wasn’t worth it?” His hand glided over the cream satin sheets. “So, I decided to move back to New York, even though Maria was always pushing me.”

“What about the matchmaker thing? What prompted you to feel such pressure to get married immediately after returning?”

He smirked. “Maria... You see she has always been like a sister to me since I was a kid. She was convinced I needed to tie the knot ASAP and organized everything. I went on five blind dates before I met you, and trust me, they were all disasters. It seemed like all they cared about was what I could offer them for a comfortable, luxurious life—totally loveless and insincere. Maria and I agreed to one last date, and if I didn't find what I was looking for, she promised to cut me loose.” He gently stroked your cheek. “When I saw Melanie Johnson’s profile, I was so relieved; it felt like just the evidence I needed to convince Maria. But when I came across your photo, something felt off about the information. Your appearance warmed my heart. I felt like there had to be a mistake, so I took a chance and wanted to meet you in person.”

You laughed. “Wow, looks like your instincts were right.”

“I think it was the best decision I’ve ever made,” he said, smiling as he slid his hand down your shoulder and along your arm, finally cupping your hand and leaning in to kiss it.

Your fingertips danced delicately across his lips, tracing their curves. "What about that Stella, the girl in the photo Maria baited me with?"

He sighed, a hint of a frown crossing his face. “I promise, it was nothing serious. That lasted just a week. She was always caught up in the modeling world, and honestly, I think I was too old to keep up with her glamorous lifestyle.”

“Well, now you’ve got me wondering—how many women have you been with? I’m almost afraid to ask,” you teased, narrowing your eyes playfully.

He tilted his head, clearly thinking it over.

His thinking phase made you tense.

“Too many to even remember.”

Your jaw dropped in mock horror. “Slut,” you teased again, nudging him with your shoulder.

Well, he was a really handsome guy—why would that surprise you?

He chuckled. “Okay, your turn, baby. Spill it.” His voice was low and teasing as he traced his nose along your cheek to your chin.

“Hmmm, way too many to count; it’s like counting grains of sand on a beach.”

Suddenly, he stopped, looking at you with a serious expression. You couldn’t help but chuckle a little at how intense he looked. “Stop giving me that look. I’m just joking with you—relax.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his temple.

“That was worse than I thought,” he murmured with curiosity in his tone. “So how many?”

“Only three,” you admitted shyly. “All back in Atlanta—if you count high school. The second was a summer fling gone wrong. And the last one, three years back, was just toxic—emotionally draining, like an automatic routine... It felt like there was something essential missing. It had zero—”

“Passion,” he cut in for you, finishing your sentence.

You locked eyes, an electric connection sparked between you. “Yeah, exactly,” you murmured, your gaze dropping to his lips.

At that moment, he pulled you in closer and kissed you, pouring all his hunger and desire into it—just the kind of passion you’ve been talking about.

Yeah, passion was the word.

What a powerful force it was.

It felt like you were meant for each other, completely in sync. Being with him brought a sense of happiness you’d never experienced before. He didn’t just want your body; he craved your voice, your scent, every little part of you. It was like he found a piece of himself he thought he lost, and he was beyond thrilled about it.

What more could he ask for?

“So you're a chaste little kitten, huh?” he said, his lips brushing your collarbone. “Considering the dirty sounds you make with me, I was expecting something different.”

“Mmm, like what?” you teased, playing with his curls.

“I kind of thought many guys from your past would pop up.”

You chuckled lightly. “Nope. I’ve been so caught up with work that I barely have time to think about love. And let’s be real, I’m no beauty queen or model or anything—I’m not exactly turning heads everywhere I go.”

He pulled back slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes alight with sincerity. “Are you kidding? You’re heartbreakingly beautiful. I’ve never told this to anyone before, but the first time I laid eyes on you, it felt like I was struck by lightning.”

You giggled, a playful spark fluttering in your chest. “That sounds like something straight out of a movie, or maybe even a cliché.”

“I know it does, but it’s the truth, believe me. I really appreciate the real Melanie for bringing us together, even if it was in a pretty strange way."

Your smile widened. “Same here. And about those sounds I make, I have to admit, no one has ever made me feel this alive before.” His lips tugged into a teasing smirk. “Now I’m the one sounding like a cliché, right?”

"I’ll gladly accept that as a compliment.”

"You should," you laughed and pressed your lips to his ear. "Because in my previous experiences I have often "pretended". But with you it's all real you slutty ol'man."

He laughed darkly. "I fluttered, baby," he said as he lifted the sheet off you, exposing your body to the sunlight flooding the room. He pressed you down on the bed with his weight, pinning your wrists over your head with one hand and holding your chin in the other. You swallowed hard, blinking repeatedly as waves of ecstasy and exhilaration surged through you. "I really hope you won’t be mad at me for doing my best to make you this old man's little slut." He leaned down, grabbed your lips, and sank forcefully into your mouth, spreading your legs with his knee.

"Harry." Fluttering your eyes open you searched his face silently pleading with him to ease the bubbling sexual tension built between you.

Pinching hard on your stiffened breasts he listened to you yelp. “Be a good girl and tell me.” He rubbed the tip of his hard cock against your slit, causing you to writhe and moan with ecstasy. Your body on fire, your breath filled with heat. “You wanna be my little slut?” He whispered sweetly.

With your body trembling, cheeks burning with heat, back arching, biting your lower lip you nodded frantically. “Yes,” you breathed harshly. Your body shuddered and flushed in anticipation at the thought of being filled by him.

And you were out of patience.

Your eyes flashed with a glint of mischief, pulling down your teeth crashed hard into his neck as you sucked roughly on his skin until you felt his hand leave your chest and clasped around your throat.

“Naughty kitten,” he purred with delight.

The sound of you moaning and mewing like a real kitten into his ear sent a churning sensation through his stomach, sending him dangerously over the edge.

Not so soon, he thought himself, eager to make it last longer.

He turned his head to find your lips once more and pulled them close to his, devouing your mouth eagerly, passionetly. Grabbing your thighs tightly, he plunged himself deep with your dripping pussy. “Fuck-” he groaned “-that never gets old.” He started into a pulverizing rhythm of pulling himself almost completely out and then pushing himself as deep within you as your bodies allowed.

It was that moment of struggle again, he felt incredible inside you, he felt alive, indestructible, but he couldn't wait to get to the grand finale, eager to spill himself inside you, desperate to feel your walls close around him, and once again, he was caught in the middle.

It felt like he could never get enough of you, not at all.

Egged on by your gasping for breath he switched his hand positions from your waist to your hips to bring you both closer to the edge.

Your eyes glazed over with ecstasy watching the muscles on his arms and chest flex as he pounded into you mercilessly. You loved the way his brow furrowed in concentration as you made love. His body was perfect, like a statue sculpted by the many hours spent.

“Mmmh—I don’t mind being your slut—if this is the view,” you choked between his brutal thrusts, gripping his biceps wildly. “Fuck your little slut harder!"

“You’re so—mmh—you’re so fucking dirty, baby. I love it. Gonna come—.” Letting out a loud groan he felt your walls contracting hard around his throbbing member. His arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the bed, pulling your body close to his.

“Me too,” you replied breathlessly, wrapping your arms around his neck, your nails dug into the back of his neck. Hopping onto his lap violently up and down caused your nails to graze his skin painfully, and he groaned loudly.

However, he didn't even mind if you almost made him bleed.

You could do whatever you wanted with him; he was yours to take.

Ragged breathing halted as he poured himself into you. His movements slowed as you held onto one another. He leaned your bodies back down to rest against the bed.

Your lips sucked softly against his flesh, tasting the glistening salty tang that coated his body. Gratefully, he returned the favour, licking your neck up to your chin, biting, sucking, savouring your sweet taste and the moment itself.

Feeling his heart beat returned to its normal steady rhythm you looked up to see his face looking down smiling at you. "I love you, baby," he purred.

"I love you too, Harry."

He smiled before leaning down to kiss you. “Shower?”

“Count me in,” you said, laughing.

His mouth broke into a playful, cheeky grin this time. "How about a hot shower?"

He asked as if you hadn't just had incredibly hot sex.

You widened your eyes in surprise. "Seriously? It’s been like 5 or 6 times since last night, and you're still being greedy, mister."

He buried his nose in your hair, breathing you in. “You bring it out in me, baby.”

"Okay, but let’s make it quick; I need to be ready for work soon."

He lifted you effortlessly into his arms. "It’ll be the fastest and hottest shower ever—buckle up!"

You both giggled all the way as he carried you to the bathroom.

As Harry dropped you off at the hotel around noon, a wave of relief washed over you. Alan wasn’t lurking around, and that was a small victory. You couldn't bring yourself to share the weight of what Alan had told you last time—not yet. The prospect of creating unnecessary tension made your stomach churn. Besides, he would surely come to understand the seriousness of your relationship in time, and he would give up, wouldn’t he?

Before saying goodbye, Harry mentioned he had a special event to attend that evening and invited you to join him. Your instinct was to decline—after all, you had a million things to do—but his persistent charm won you over. You didn’t want to disappoint him, so you reluctantly agreed. That meant you had to cut your work short to prepare, which sent you rushing into the hotel, straight to the kitchen.

In the midst of the chaos, Bruno reminded you about the upcoming fair. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he explained that if you launched your own bakery brand in time, it could be the perfect opportunity to promote it. That news felt like a double-edged sword. On one hand, you had promised Harry you would leave your cleaning job behind, meaning you’d spend the entire week at the hotel—including those dreaded Mondays and Thursdays. Your internship was finally nearing its end. But on the flip side, the thought of starting your own brand meant you’d need to open a shop soon, which required financial support. Harry was eager to help, but you felt a deep sense of obligation that made accepting his generosity uncomfortable.

And, of course, with your renewed schedule, you’d definitely run into Alan more often.

Just what you needed.

Shaking off the worry, you reminded yourself that you were close to achieving your dreams; patience was key. But the moment you spotted Alan in the dining room, anxiety flared up again. The memory of your last conversation haunted you, and just seeing him sent your nerves into overdrive. Then you noticed Maria seated across from him, her expression growing increasingly troubled. Each time she glanced at him, her frustration deepened, and when she abruptly stood up, you felt compelled to go after her.

“Maria!” you called out, sprinting after her. She turned around, and your heart sank—she looked on the verge of tears.

“Are you okay? What happened?” you asked softly, touching her shoulder gently.

“It's nothing, really,” she replied, pulling a handkerchief from her bag, but her eyes revealed a different story.

“Come on, Maria. You look awful. What’s going on between you and Alan?”

Her lip trembled as she fought to mask her anger. “He’s an asshole—a truly wicked, evil man.”

“What do you mean? What did he do?”

“Just forget it, okay? I’m begging you, please don’t tell Harry you saw me here, especially with Alan.”

“But if he asks me—”

“Please,” she interrupted, almost pleading.

Seeing her like this was shocking; she was usually so strong and fearless. “Okay, of course, I won’t say anything,” you assured her softly.

She pulled out a compact mirror, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ll catch you at the reception tonight,” she said, turning towards the exit.

You watched her leave, your mind swirling with questions about what had happened to upset her so deeply.

After work, while waiting for Harry to pick you up in the hotel lobby, you decided to give Zoe a call. Thankfully, her ankle had fully healed, and she told you she'd be back at work on Monday.

“Oh my God, I can't believe you two are finally official!” Zoe's excited voice rang through the phone.

“Yeah, it's about time,” you laughed. “So, how did everything go with John?”

“It went amazing! Just so you know, we're officially a couple now. Our first date is lined up for next week.”

“That’s fantastic, Zoe! I’m so happy for you.”

You couldn't help but wonder if John had shared everything with her. You knew you should ask her in person instead of over the phone.

“Since you’re at your boyfriend’s place now, when do you plan to pick up your things?”

“Whoa, I’m not moving in just yet. Honestly, I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Wait a sec... Are you trying to rush me or something? Or is John thinking about moving in?”

She fell silent for a moment.

“Babe, don’t you think this is all moving a bit too fast? It feels kind of early, right? I mean, does it really make sense to move in together when you’ve just started dating?” You were running your fingers through your hair when you suddenly noticed someone next to you. You hung up just as you caught Alan giving you this awkward smile. “Call you back…”

What the hell?

How long had he been standing there, and did he hear any of that?

Avoiding his gaze, you got up, acutely aware of his eyes on you.

“We didn’t get a chance to talk today. How have you been?”

The jerk acted as if nothing had happened.

Why would you want to talk to him anyway?

That was the real question.

"Fine," you replied coldly, looking away, your tone sharper than intended, fingers tightening around your bag's strap. Just then, he reached out, his hand clasping yours.

“What happened to your hand?”

Oh right, when you were rushing around in the kitchen, you accidentally splashed hot oil on yourself.

Bruno had treated the burn, it wasn’t serious but still.

“It’s nothing,” you said, trying to pull your hand back, but he held on tight.

You looked away as he examined your hand, and your heart nearly stopped when you caught sight of Harry through the glass windows at the entrance. Panic surged through you, and you tried to tug your hand free from Alan's grip with all your might. Immediately, you regretted it—the sudden burn stung painfully against his skin, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan.

At that moment, Harry spotted your expression and strode through the revolving door toward you, shoving Alan away.

Alan stumbled back, initially shocked but then laughing angrily.

"What the heck are you doing to her?"

"Harry, calm down."

But he didn’t hear you; the two men were locked in a tense, unwavering stare. Alan casually adjusted his tie. “Don't be so dramatic, Castillo.”

Harry turned to you and stepped protectively in front of you. “Why are you always lurking around her? What's your problem?”

People in the lobby were watching intently, all eyes glued to the unfolding scene.

“Don’t be ridicolus. This place is mine. It’s my hotel, and she’s my employee.”

"I wonder if you’re equally concerned about your other employees?”

You grabbed Harry’s arm, “Harry, please, let’s just go.” You tugged at him as the curious gazes around you felt more pressing.

But seriously, he wouldn’t even look at you.

What the fuck?

“I warn you. Stay away from her.”

“And if I don’t?”

Harry was fuming, and you gripped his arm tighter.

"Alan, cut it out!" you snapped at him. With all your strength, you pulled Harry toward the exit. “Let’s just get out of here. Everyone's staring at us.”

“Keep away from my girlfriend, Finnigan,” he warned, pointing his finger at him, his voice low and threatening.

“Did you bother to mention your family background to her? I’ll bet she’ll walk away the moment she finds out.”

That crossed the line for Harry. He grabbed Alan by the collar, his fury erupting. “You say one more word, and I'll make you regret it.”

Alan shot back with a smirk, “Ooh, I’m really scared, Castillo.”

You stepped between the two men and pushed them both apart with an assertive shove. “Enough! Just stop it!”

They turned to look at you, along with the doorman and a few others. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and frankly, I don’t care. But I’m not going to stand here and watch this nonsense,” you declared, pivoting on your heel and striding toward the exit.

Harry shot Alan a glare, pushed him aside, and quickly followed you outside. “Wait, please,” he said, reaching out to grab your wrist and turning you to face him. “Let me see your hand.”

You turned away from him. “Oh, now you’re concerned? I guess you were too busy bickering with Alan to notice.”

He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, but when I saw he was touching you, it really ticked me off.” He examined your hand. “What exactly happened?”

“It’s just a little burn,” you replied with an exasperated huff.

But as you saw the worry on his face while he tended to your wound, your anger began to wane. “This is becoming really tiresome, Harry.”

He looked straight into your eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I want you to explain what’s going on between you and him. It clearly goes back a long way.”

He glanced at your hand again. “There’s nothing to explain.”

“Oh yeah? It certainly doesn’t look that way to me.”

He brought your hand to his lips, planting a gentle kiss over the bandage. “Baby, I promise I’ll tell you everything later, but right now, we really need to go. Come on,” he said, taking your other hand and leading you to the car.

Harry stood behind you in the softly lit dressing room, carefully helping you zip up your dress. The fabric clung to you perfectly, and as you turned to admire yourself in the mirror, you felt a rush of excitement. He stepped closer, his presence both calming and electrifying. He gently brushed your hair back, a tender gesture that made your heart flutter. He fastened a delicate pearl necklace around your neck, the cool beads contrasting with the warmth of his kiss on your cheek. “You look absolutely stunning, darling,” he whispered, his lips brushing tantalizingly against your shoulder. His gaze locked onto your reflection, and he frowned slightly. “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He placed his hands on your shoulders, his thumbs gently caressing your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “This is our first formal event as a couple, and there will be many more to come, so you might as well get used to it." His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke. “Maybe someday you’ll be attending as Mrs. Castillo?” He grinned at your reflection.

You turned to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I would love that."

With a grin broadening across his face, he leaned in for a kiss that ignited a fire within you, passionate and consuming. His strong hands slid from your waist down to your hips, pulling you against him, trapping you between his body and the wardrobe door.

You pulled back, gasping for air, your heart racing. “Harry, we really should stop, or we won’t make it to the reception at all.”

He chuckled, his laughter rich. “Right,” he said, reluctantly releasing you and stepping back.

“It’s a good thing my lipstick is waterproof,” you joked, shooting him a playful smirk.

He licked his lips. “I loved the taste.”

“Strawberry,” you said, linking your arm through his.

“Mmm, that's nice,” he replied, amusement dancing in his eyes. “But nothing beats your own taste; you’re ever so much more delicious.”

You covered his lips with your hand, giggling softly. “Shut… up,” you whispered, feeling your cheeks heat up. “You’re about to get me dangerously wet, ol' man.”

He kissed your palm before gently removing it from his mouth. “So, we’ll continue where we left off later?”

“Deal,” you giggled once more.

Before leaving the room together, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and whispered in your ear, “Can’t fuckin' wait, baby.”

“Everyone's staring at me,” you murmured, feeling your heartbeat quicken as you stepped into the hall where the event was taking place, with Harry right beside you.

“Of course they are; you’re the most beautiful woman here,” he whispered in your ear. It was sweet, but it didn’t do much to calm your nerves.

The room buzzed with chatter, the light baroque music playing softly in the background, glasses clinking, and the upper crust exchanging eye rolls. Harry was right—it was a scene you’d have to get used to being with him.

But it was a struggle...

As you and Harry made your way to the center of the hall, heads turned and eyes lingered on you. Some of Harry's friends approached, chatting you up. Harry beamed with pride as he introduced you, one hand gently tracing your back, warmed by the exposed skin of your dress. His touch calmed you, reminding you of his presence. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him as he spoke earnestly to the others; he looked so handsome and charming in his suit. You could feel the jealousy of the other women in the room directed at you.

“Where could Maria be?” Harry murmured, his eyes darting through the crowd.

She said she was coming, you thought, almost speaking out loud before recalling that you had to keep quiet about seeing her at the hotel earlier. Just then, a familiar face approached—his friend from the last wedding, the groom himself.

“How’s it going, man?” Harry greeted him with a hug.

“Hey Harry,” he replied with a smile, then turned to you. “Aren't you the waitress from my wedding?”

“Yes,” you replied, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“I owe you one. I heard from Lucas that you saved the wedding cake. Harry, you’re lucky to have such a diligent, versatil girlfriend,” he laughed heartily.

Harry turned to you, “I really am.”

Your cheeks flushed with warmth at his words.

“So, are you a chef or something since you're so talented?” he asked.

“Kind of. I'm doing an internship to become a pastry chef right now,” you said with a smile.

“That’s awesome. I bet you make some really tasty scones.”

“She totally does. They all taste amazing; you wouldn't even believe it,” Harry added with a proud smile. “My amazing girlfriend will have her certificate soon and plans to open her own shop.” He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, and you smiled shyly.

Suddenly, a figure caught your eye—someone famous. Excitement surged through you as you recognized him. “It’s Sebastien Loeb, oh my God!” You turned to Harry, “Can I meet him, please?”

Harry squinted in that direction. “He’s a rally driver, right?”

“Yes! Nine-time WRC champion. His iconic car: The Citroën Xsara, but I can’t decide between the C4 and the DS3. I have to ask him how he aced that course in his last race.” You started moving toward him, leaving Harry momentarily behind.

His friend, clearly impressed, leaned in close to Harry. “She makes great desserts, watches rally racing, and knows about cars? Harry, you'd better marry her.”

Harry chuckled. “I absolutely will.” He winked at him before maneuvering through the crowd to catch up.

“Hello,” you greeted when you reached Sebastien.

“Hello there,” he replied, offering a friendly handshake. You gave it a squeeze. Just then, Harry showed up behind you, and he and Sebastien did the handshake thing too.

“I’m a huge fan, Mr. Loeb. It’s too bad you’re no longer racing. We need more talent like yours,” you said admiringly.

Sebastien laughed shyly. “I was surprised to see a lady watching the races; I’ve been surrounded by men all night,” he said, glancing at Harry, who smiled but seemed a bit uneasy. “May I ask what your favorite race is, ma’am?”

“Rally de France, bitche 2—your 60th victory and 7th championship, of course. What an incredible finish, passing Dani Sordo at the last moment. Racing in all that mud must’ve been challenging.”

“It certainly was; it was a memorable yet tough rally—I’ll never forget it,” he leaned in closer. “Between you and me, that race is my favorite too,” he said with a wink.

"What was your setup at that race btw?"

He rasied his eyebrows in surprise but continued. "Well for the alignment (Rear) Camber Angle -1.00 °. And brakes, force was 3030 Nm. And gear..."

"6th I presume?"

"Exactly."

"Perfect."

"Wow, I've never encountered a woman so enthusiastic to learn about car setup," he laughed.

You couldn’t help but giggle.

Harry forced a smile, but inside, he was drowning in jealousy.

Was Sebastien flirting with you?

“Darling,” he said, pulling you closer. “How about we grab a drink over there? I’m sure Mr. Loeb has plenty of people to chat with, right?”

Sebastien nodded. "Meeting a woman who knows so much about cars and is genuinely excited about them is a rare treat. You’re quite fortunate, Mr. Castillo."

Harry's grip on you tightened. “Absolutely—it’s fantastic to have such a unique woman. You can’t imagine how special she is to me."

You sensed the rising tension and extended your hand to Sebastien. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Loeb. You’re a legend and always will be,” you said, shaking his hand again, but Harry was pulling you back toward him.

“The honor is all mine. Just call me Sebastien next time we meet, and I really hope it’s soon.” He gave your hand a friendly shake.

“All right, Sebastien,” you replied, waving goodbye.

As some guys walked up to him, you turned to Harry while Sebastien was still chatting with them. “What's up with you, ol' man?” you asked.

“Are you seriously just going to talk to him all night?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re getting jealous.”

He shrugged and grabbed a couple of champagne glasses from a tray held by a waiter. “I'm not.”

You took the glass he handed you. “Harry, he’s a 52-year-old married guy with a kid.”

“Good,” he replied, looking away while taking a sip.

You laughed, took a sip yourself, "I can't believe it." Then leaned in a bit closer, your fingers lightly brushing his collar. “You know... That’s actually kind of hot,” you said playfully, giving him a flirty look.

Harry met your gaze. “If you keep looking at me like that, baby, I might just scoop you up and dash out of here without caring who’s watching.”

You chuckled playfully and leaned in closer to him, bringing your lips near his ear. "And if you keep talking like that, mister, I'll get so wet I'll might have to take my panties off."

He swallowed, and you grinned at his look. "Fuck," he said quietly, realizing he was becoming hard. When you noticed what was going on, you put your hand to your lips and giggled. "Oops I didn't mean that."

"Naughty kitty," he said, laughing. "I have to punish you when we get home."

You playfully brushed against him with your thigh, a teasing smile on your lips. "Hmm, I can’t help but wonder what kind of punishment you have in store ol' man."

He reached back and squeezed the part of you that was touching him, his voice low and sultry. "I’ll be thinking about that all night long, baby." He followed up with a lingering kiss on your cheek, sending your heart racing.

Fortunately, people began to approach, chatting and mingling, which helped ease the sexual tension between you and him a bit.

Melanie and her mom made their way over, and even though you tried to tune them out, they invited you to join them. You decided to go along while Harry caught up with some friends for business. Still, even from a distance, you and Harry exchanged smiles and playful winks, the sparks between you never quite fading.

Melanie's mother, as usual, didn’t hold back in her uncouth and disrespectful manner, leaving your pride wounded as she continuously pointed out that, among other women, you worked as a housekeeper in her home. After excusing yourself, you stepped into the women's restroom, glanced at your reflection in the mirror, sighed deeply, and muttered to yourself that you had seen this coming, reminding yourself to stay calm. This was simply how the world worked, and it always would be; nothing truly mattered as long as Harry was by your side. Yet, your pride still stung—after all, there was no shame in earning a living through hard work.

Did they truly build their fortunes through their own hard work and determination?

Nope.

Some got lucky by being born into rich families, while others just married someone wealthy.

Those ruthless bitches.

Just then, the last person you'd hoped to see approached the sink next to you—Lucy. She turned on the faucet and caught your eye in the mirror, her expression a mix of complexity and calm. “You must be having a tough time,” she said while washing her hands.

“Excuse me?” You refused to meet her gaze as you dried your hands off.

“Those women—they're all about high society, luxury cars, opulent homes, and designer clothes. Their conversations make it feel like you come from a different world, right? It must be hard for you. Even though you dress like them, you don’t quite fit in,” she remarked, glancing at your dress and necklace while opting to dry her hands with a paper towel.

“Nothing changes with what you wear or where you live; it all comes down to who you are. If your heart is in the wrong place, you can drape yourself in the most beautiful outfits and still be ugly inside.”

She let out a laugh, one filled with disbelief. “You can preach all you like, but that doesn’t change reality.”

“I’d rather hold onto the truth I believe in,” you replied.

“There you are!”

You both turned to Melanie’s voice. She was glaring at Lucy, fury radiating from her. “You little snake! Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Melanie, what are you doing?” you interjected.

Ignoring you, she zeroed in on Lucy. “This bitch is trying to set Nate up on a date. What is it? ‘Perfect match’? Now I'm going to make your face perfect match with my palm!” she shouted as she lunged at her.

You quickly grabbed her arm.

“Are you out of your mind? Your parents are right here! You need to snap out of it. Whatever issues you have with her, just try to talk it out.” You attempted to calm her, but she remained agitated.

Lucy quickly shook off her shock. “I’m just doing my job, helping my client, Miss Johnson,” she explained.

“Really? He’s my boyfriend, you bitch! Do you honestly believe he wants to marry? He’s just looking for a hookup!”

Well she had a point, it was Nate after all.

Lucy tucked her purse under her arm and glanced back at her before stepping out of the restroom. “I don’t know; he seemed sincere to me. Besides, he’ll definitely want to get married when he meets the right match I’ve found for him. I’m confident in my skills,” she said with a smug smile.

"You bitch!" she barked.

You grabbed her again but she was hard to restrain.

"Don’t yell! People will hear you. Do you really want to make a scene?"

She looked at you and asked, "Why are you covering for her?"

"I’m just looking out for you and your family. I don’t want you to embarrass your dad."

"Right. That girl you're defending was just talking to your boyfriend."

You stopped and pulled your hands away as she laughed, adjusting her dress. "Oops, huh? I heard they used to date. You’re mad at her, aren’t you?"

"There has to be a reasonable explanation," you insisted, though your frustration was hard to hide. "Keep on being reasonable, polyanna, but I'm gonna kick her ass," she said it and took off after her.

“Melanie! You really…” you called out, chasing after her.

Despite all your efforts, Melanie, as immature as ever, lunged at Lucy from behind, grabbed her hair, and yelled, acting like a cheap prostitute. At that moment, everyone turned to look at Jack and his wife. Anger, annoyance, and frustration were etched on his face, matched by the condemnation in the gazes of those around them. He didn’t deserve this.

Just as you were about to intervene with Melanie, a hand grasped your arm and pulled you back.

“Stay out of this; let her parents handle her,” Harry said, his voice as firm as his gaze. But it softened when he turned to you. "I think the night is over. How about we head out now?"

You looked at him and nodded. “Yeah,” you agreed. He wrapped his arm around your waist as you walked together toward the exit, but your eyes were still on Jack, Melanie, and her mother.

The people who had been focused on them were now absorbed in their drama, and you couldn't help but feel a little sad for them.

As the driver took you to Harry's house, a comfortable silence filled the car, even though your hands were intertwined. You were about to break the quiet and ask him about his conversation with Lucy when he turned to you at the same moment, both of you beginning to speak simultaneously.

"Lucy—"

"Why—"

You both chuckled at your coincidental timing.

"You go first."

"No, you tell me first," he replied, flashing a smile.

"Alright, I was curious about what you and Lucy talked about," you said, pressing your lips together, pressing your lips together, feeling a mix of nervousness and curiosity.

"Actually, that’s what I was gonna say."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Is that so?"

‘Look, I generally brush her off in situations like this, but this time, it was about you, and I let her speak.’

"What did Lucy say about me?"

"She said there was something going on between you and Alan, and that it was messing with their relationship." He looked at you, his face serious.

"Harry, I—" You tried to argue, but he interrupted you with a gentle touch to your hair. "I know you wouldn’t do anything like that, and I get that he’s got this weird interest in you, but I really wish you would’ve said something."

"Harry, there’s nothing to say. He’s my boss, and I’m just putting up with it until I leave his hotel—nothing more."

"What do you mean, 'putting up with it'?"

Oops, wrong choice of words.

Damn it.

"So until my internship is over—"

"Did he say something inappropriate to you?" His tone turned angry.

You took his hands in both of yours, "No, don't worry, it’s nothing like that."

He seemed to search your eyes for the truth, remained unconvinced.

“But it’s not fair.”

"What’s not fair?"

"You want me to spill my secrets while you keep yours hidden. You said you're gonna tell me everything between you and Alan."

He let out a deep sigh. "You’re right. Alright, then I’ll share. Our families have known each other for a long time—our fathers were good friends until some tension grew between them." His expression shifted, as if he dreaded what he was about to reveal. "His father had feelings for... my mother, or at least that’s what my mother has said. She doesn't want to talk about it much. My father passed away when I was ten, so I never learned the whole story from him and I'm not sure about the details."

"Alan’s father had feelings for your mother? Was he married at that time?"

"Yeah, I was six—I have only faint memories of his father, and Alan was around my age."

"Well, that certainly clears things up."

"Every time we crossed paths at family gatherings, events... whatever they were, there was this fragile veneer of civility, yet beneath it, the tension simmered, thick and palpable. The gossip—my mother weathered so much of it. That’s why she hasn't stepped outside since my father passed. And since..." His voice quivered, breaking as shadows of the past lingered in his eyes.

In that moment, your heart ached for him. "Since what, Harry?"

He released a long, shaky sigh as if trying to exhale his sorrow. "Since my sister's death."

Your eyes widened in disbelief, a chill running through you. "Harry, I... I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry."

He looked fragile, a storm of emotions battling just beneath the surface, and without thinking, you slid closer, wrapping your arms around him, offering solace. He bowed his head, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your hair, grounding you both in that moment. "It’s alright, baby. I was young; it’s been a long time." His fingers grazed through your hair, a comforting gesture, before he lifted your chin to meet his gaze. A faint smile broke through the sorrow. "I should take you to meet my mother. She can’t leave the house, but we can go see her."

You froze, feeling a rush of tension. "Don’t you think it’s too soon?"

He caressed your cheek with his knuckles. "Too soon for you, perhaps, but late for me. I’m an old man remember? I don’t want to miss a single moment with you, darling. We should embrace everything life has to offer, fast and fully as a couple.” His voice lowered to a whisper in your ear, filled with sincerity, before he leaned down, capturing your lips with a soft kiss. "You’re my everything.”

The week flew by, and at last, Chef Bruno announced that you would be able to wrap up your internship the following week. A wave of relief washed over you—not only would you finally be free from the daily trek to the hotel for work, but you also hadn’t seen Alan in days.

Now, the focus shifted to working hard until the fair, where you planned to build your brand by creating original desserts and baked goods to showcase. Thankfully, your billionaire boyfriend Harry had a spacious kitchen that you could use. Since you were planning to move in with him anyway—especially after Zoe and John's relationship sped up your decision—the transition felt exciting.

The day you left home with your suitcase to move into Harry's penthouse could easily have been the happiest day of your life. Both of you seemed thrilled that your relationship had reached this milestone, and everything was going smoothly.

Throughout the week, while Harry was at work, you were busy at home, baking as many desserts and pastries as possible. When he returned, he devoured them all and offered his critiques.

On the weekend, you realized you were low on supplies and had to hit up the supermarket for a big grocery run. Harry stepped in to help, and you both went to the mall together, like a married couple.

He also mentioned that he wanted to try baking cupcakes for the first time, which you found cute and encouraged him to do. While you were busy whipping up the cream, the oven timer chimed. Harry slipped on his oven mitts and carefully pulled a tray of cupcakes out of the oven. “Here’s my first solo batch,” he said with a proud smile.

As you looked at the cupcakes, you noticed they were a bit too light in color. “Hmm, babe, don’t you think they look a little undercooked? They probably need more time in the oven,” you suggested.

Dipping your finger into one of the cupcakes, you lifted it up to find the batter still runny. Licking your fingertip, you joked, “Here’s a little advice: if it’s still runny, it’s not a cupcake; it’s a beverage.” With a chuckle, you returned to whipping the cream on the counter.

“Alright, I’ll pop these ‘runny’ amigos back in the oven,” Harry said, putting the tray back.

“And please increase the time,” you said without looking at him.

But he couldn't help but gaze at you from behind, admiring how you looked while cooking. Out of the blue, he wrapped his arms around you and showered your cheek and neck with quick, playful kisses.

“Harry, stop! You’re going to make me spill the cream. What are you doing?”

He gently swept your hair to one side, revealing your shoulder, and you felt his lips caress your skin. “I can’t resist; you look stunning, whipping up delicious treats in my kitchen, like you're already my wife,” he murmured softly, making you giggle.

His hand slid up your thighs beneath your skirt, lingering just above your hem. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to keep my hands to myself when you’re wearing that dress?"

Your heart began to race. "Harry..." you murmured.

He lifted the hem of your dress and pressed himself against you. You gasped as you felt how hard he was. You almost dropped the cream container.

He suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist, spun you around, and lifted you onto the counter. Before you could even process what was happening, he pressed his lips against yours. What started as a sweet kiss quickly turned into something much more passionate, and without thinking, you instinctively draped your arms around his neck, spreading your legs for him. He leaned in closer, drawing you to the edge of the counter. One hand rested on your hips while the other gently traced its way along your thighs. He let out a soft moan as you wrapped your legs around his waist, his clothed cock teasing you in a delightful way.

Now you were as eager as he was, consumed with a sudden desire.

What a beautiful persuasion, what a beautiful surrender.

"All right," you said, breaking the kiss with difficulty. "But let's hurry, there are lots of cupcakes and desserts to make." you said as you tried to take off your kitchen apron, but his fingers had already reached behind you and untied the apron string.

"We've got 15 minutes."

His hands reached under the skirt cupping your ass, picked you up, then turned you around, reset the timer, and turned the heat down a bit. "Make it 30," he said with a smirk

You raised one eyebrow, "Slow cooking... Hmm, that could totally be a new way to get a better crust. I can’t wait to try these."

"Me too but first, I want to relish on that sweet pussy of yours," he said kissing you again, sending delightful shivers through your spine.

His words were enough to turn you on.

It was hot... so damn hot..

With that, he carried you in his arms to the bedroom, taking your panties off and throwing them only-god-knows-where on his way.

Your moans and giggles echoing around the hall.

“Now, get ready guys… here comes the red velvet cake—the angel on the outside, the devil on the inside.” You proudly presented your dessert to everyone gathered around Harry's large table in the dining room, where Maria, Mia, Oliver, Zoe, John, and Harry were all eagerly tasting and voting on the treats you had whipped up throughout the evening.

Maria was the first to raise her hand. “I’m giving this dessert an 8, darling, I’m not a fan of the sweetness from the white chocolate.”

“I’ll try adding agave next time; I’d love for you to give it a shot,” you replied with a smile. “How about you all?”

Oliver chimed in, “I’d give it a 9.”

Zoe followed, saying, “I also give it a 9.”

"I think it’s a 9 for me too," John added, sharing a smile with Zoe.

You turned to Mia. “What about you sweetheart?”

“I think it’s a 9 as well,” Mia said.

All eyes shifted to Harry, waiting for his verdict. “I’m giving it a 10, it’s fantastic. Can we even go higher than that and give it an 11?” He grinned at you, and you laughed, leaning in to give him a quick kiss.

Maria rolled her eyes. “You’ve been giving everything a 10 that your girlfriend has made tonight. I’m not sure how objective you’re being.”

Shrugging, “But she did make everything amazing,” Harry said, lifting your hand and kissing it softly. “You’re going to shine at that fair, baby.”

"Yeah, I know you’ll do great," Zoe added supportively.

“Did you find the brand name?” Maria asked. “Mia and I put together a list for you, didn’t we bunnie?”

“Yeah, here it is,” Mia said, pulling out her tablet and setting it on the table. You quickly glanced at it.

“Wow, this is all fantastic, ladies. Good job, It's tough to choose, though.”

“Honey, we should probably get going,” Zoe said as she stood up.

You looked at her, “Okay, thanks for coming, guys,” as you hugged both her and John.

“Good luck at the fair,” John smiled at you.

“Thank you John."

“Good night, everyone! See ya,” Zoe called as the others waved goodbye.

“See you later,” Harry said as you followed them towards the door.

“Thanks for being cool about John coming along,” you said to Harry as they stepped into the lift.

“When I say ‘let me into your world,’ I mean that John is part of it since he’s your cousin’s boyfriend. It’s all good. Besides, everything between us is just a minor blip from the past,” he said.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and sighed, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, mi amor,” he said softly, pulling you close and kissing you.

Just then, a throat clearing interrupted the moment. You both pulled back and turned to see Maria standing there, her phone in hand.

“Harry, you need to see this,” she said, handing him her mobile.

The smile faded from Harry’s face as he glanced at the screen before returning it to her.

“What happened?” you asked, feeling a knot of worry forming.

“Alan…” he mumbled.

“His mother has passed away,” Maria added.

Silence hung in the air as you studied Harry. “Are you going to the funeral?”

“No, it wouldn’t feel right for me to go,” he replied.

You gently touched his arm. “But you’re not responsible for what happened in the past, Harry. Besides, it’s a funeral.”

“Still, I don’t think I’d want to see him if I were him,” he said.

“Harry is right, I’ll go,” Maria suggested.

Sensing an undertone in Maria’s voice that left you uneasy. She was somehow keeping something from Harry about her conversation with Alan earlier that day, and it made you feel uneasy.

Finally, the day you had eagerly anticipated arrived. It was the end of your internship, and Chef Bruno was set to hand you the letter for your certification. Harry had been called away from the company early that day, so you decided to go on your own.

The walk wasn’t far anyway.

Upon entering the hotel lobby, you were taken aback by the sight of a crowd gathered there. You recognized the doorman and approached him. “What’s going on? Why is everyone gathered here?”

“Mr. Finnegan,” he replied, his voice laced with distress. “He’s declared that no one can enter the bar or dining room, and the customers are absolutely furious.”

“Is he okay?” you asked, remembering he had just lost his mother. You understood the pain of loss all too well.

“Honestly, I've worked here for 20 years, and I’ve never seen him like this before,” the doorman replied.

“Is Bruno around?”

“Not yet.”

“Alright, I’ll wait in the kitchen, thanks.”

As you made your way toward the kitchen, murmurs of anxiety rippled through the air, the tension palpable. You pulled out your mobile phone, scrolled through your contacts for Bruno’s name, and pressed call. As it rang, you took off your coat, draping it casually over a chair, while casting glances at the other waiters, whose faces mirrored the stark worry that filled the room. They were nervous about Alan, how he had secluded himself in the dining room for hours, demanding solitude. When Bruno called to say he would be late, your anxiety heightened.

What a last day at the hotel!

It was supposed to be a celebration in the air, but instead, there was worry, sadness, and frustration.

You started to feel bored waiting in the kitchen with the other waiters. You decided to glance through the door to the dining room, and it shocked you. Alan sat at a table, his clothes disheveled, hair in disarray, and clearly upset. Despite your previous feelings toward him—you clearly didn't like him—a wave of pity washed over you.

Marvelous.

After a while, he called out to the waiters, who exchanged worried glances. No one seemed brave enough to approach him in his current state.

You made a decision that you suspected you might regret later. “I’ll go,” you said, trying to reassure them while putting yourself in a highly tense situation.

As you stepped into the dining room and walked toward his table, he didn’t look up initially, but once you stood beside him, his gaze met yours, surprise evident on his face.

“I’m really sorry for your loss,” you said softly, barely above a whisper but sincerely.

You felt uncomfortable under his intense stare and quickly looked away.

“Please, sit down,” he urged, almost pleadingly.

Usually, you wouldn’t have done so—after all, he wasn’t your boss anymore. But given his distress, you took a seat.

“Alan, you really need to gather yourself,” you said coolly.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be alright soon. Don’t worry.”

“Not that I’m worried, but your actions are really causing a stir among the customers, and the staff are starting to feel uneasy. And let's not even get started on the reporters hanging around."

“Do you really think I care about them? I’m done caring about anyone or anything,” he said, his tone stern as he focused on you. “Except you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please, don’t start that again.”

“Oh, honey, I haven’t even begun yet, trust me.”

Your arms crossed defensively. “What in the world are you talking about?”

He leaned in closer, his face getting serious. “Just end things with Harry.”

What the fuck?

What on earth was he saying?

“Alan, I think you should—”

“You won’t? Fine. Then I’ll ruin him.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you tried to comprehend his words. “What are you even talking about?”

“My mother died because of his mother.”

“Harry isn’t to blame. This is something that happened ages ago.”

“My mother fought cancer for years; she couldn’t cope with my father’s betrayal. She meant everything to me. Now I’ve lost my mother, my all, and he will lose everything too.”

You stood up abruptly. “Look, you’re clearly too upset and possibly drunk to understand what you’re saying.”

“No, I’m completely clear-headed. I’ve waited years, held back by my mother’s presence, but that’s over now.” He rose, taking a step toward you. “I’m going to make the Castillo family pay for what they did to mine.”

Anger bubbled within you; this was too much. “Alan, snap out of it. You aren’t solving anything this way. I get your pain, but this is excessive.”

He laughed hysterically. “Excessive? Is that what you think?” Then he grabbed your shoulders. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like to watch my mother suffer in the hospital for all those years?” he shouted, startling you.

Just then, Bruno entered the dining room. "Mr. Finnegan."

“I’ll be there in a minute,” you said nervously.

Bruno took in the situation with a disapproving look but nodded and returned to the kitchen.

But Alan wouldn’t let you go, gripping your wrist tightly. “Let go of my arm, now,” you said through gritted teeth.

Instead of releasing you, he tightened his hold and leaned in close to your ear. “Don’t forget, every moment you choose to stay with him only brings more trouble for him. I’ll make sure of that.”

You jerked your arm free from his grasp. “Your eyes are clouded with anger. You’re not thinking clearly. I love Harry, and nothing will come between us. I'm not leaving him, no matter what you do, understand?”

A wicked smile crept onto his face. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so confident, honey. You have no clue what I’m capable of.”

“Do your worst,” you shot back.

“I will,” he replied ominously.

You couldn’t despise him more at that moment.

Throwing him a disgusted look, you turned away and strode out of the room with quick, determined steps.

Yet, deep down, an unsettling worry clung to you like a shadow, gnawing incessantly at your thoughts about Harry and his family.

After you left, Alan took his cell phone out of his pocket and called someone. “Start foreclosure proceedings.” After hanging up, he let out a soft, almost sinister chuckle to himself.

“You’ll have no choice but to come to me, sweetheart.”

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