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keen-li · 1 month ago

Text

I RE-DO | JJK

18+ minors DNI

ONESHOT.

synopsis: Young love is so sweet, but people never realize how foolish it can be (sometimes), especially for you and Jungkook. You and Jungkook were the typical high school sweethearts, and after school, you thought you were grown enough to get married. Your families disagreed, but you still went through with it. It was fine for the first year; you were still in the honeymoon phase. But soon, reality caught up, and you both had to go to university. You attended the same university, thinking it would make things easier. Many obstacles came your way, but you were still going strong, afraid of proving your family right. However, after two years of unhappiness, you both called it quits. Unfortunately, your relationship ended on a sour note, and the man you once loved turned into someone you never wanted to see again. So, what happens now, when you face him one more time after many years of being away from him.

playlist: Lewis Capaldi - Before You Go, Lewis Capaldi - Someone You Loved, Sia - Bird Set Free. Billie Eilish - wildflower, The weeknd - out of time

Ex husband Jungkook x ex-wife reader.

Lovers to I-don’t-like-you to strangers.

WC: 24.k [whoa.]

Warnings: <heavy?> ANGST, ANGST, ANGST. flashbacks (light), disagreements, young marriage, Jungkook is a lawyer, reader is a doctor. No accurate description of law or reality. crying, lol. very much angsty of angst. forgive any errors you encounter; it is revised but oh gosh there's only so much I can notice.

a/n: you might hate me for this one lol. but it is what it is.

As you walk into the room, you’re taken aback by the figure of the man you see. He's the last person you expected. it's been a while since you've seen him, a very long one at that.

The last time you saw him was well...

When you were with Jungkook.

Taehyung hadn't noticed you when you walked in. Your mask and scrubs doing a perfect job at hiding your identity. You wonder if he'd remember you. He surely would, it’s not like a million years have gone by.

and though he hasn't noticed you yet, you do notice him. The thing that catches your eye is how he's definitely grown out of his teenage face. His features are more chiseled. It suits him. Makes him look more matured.

A lot seems to have changed: he's married and now having a baby. Taehyung having a baby? You and Jungkook would've never thought. The local party boy settling down and starting a family, that's news.

You've grown to understand that people change though, you yourself as an example. You were kind of the typical party girl in your college days. Nothing too crazy though but you definitely enjoyed your liquor and music. Now you've changed and grown more reserved. Did you plan on it? No, it just happened, and you grew out of that life for some reason.

It's lost to you how Taehyung underwent his metamorphosis. Whether he wanted to or just like you "just happened", has you wondering. Your brain doesn't bother you too much about it.

But one thing your mind keeps on loop is if Jungkook has changed too and if so, how much? Did he ever grow to realize and reflect on himself.

You soon brush the thoughts away though. The last thing you should be thinking about is Jungkook, when you've got a job to do.

Sounds of relief and of a baby's cry soon fill the room. The noise helps you block further thoughts you want or should be thinking.

But still, it seems your brain doesn't work hard enough. Hence, leading you to wonder if this would've been you and Jungkook. Would it have been you doing the skin to skin with a baby you grew for 9 months with the man you love by your side for support. Could it have been Jungkook instead being handed the scissors to cut the umbilical cord. His usual bunny smile and doe eyes staring down at the baby. And his hands shaking cause of how nervous he'd be. he never liked to mess up.

"Look yn, you did it. I'm so proud of you baby." he would coo, those doe eyes staring right into you with pure love and joy. "Oh! Not you baby. I'm talking to your mother. How am I going to call both of you baby." He would say and laugh at his own joke afterwards. You would too, his jokes were so cheesy and cute. You loved them still though. you'd always wanted a family with him.

You were a fool to think you'd stop thinking about all that could've been. It pisses you off. You thought by now, passed all these years and some relationships it would stop. But it never did and seeing Taehyung only reminds you of everything you've been trying to forget.

"Yn." Your senior doctor called you out of your thoughts. "Do a checkup on the Kim baby for me, I have another job." You nod and walk around to pick up the necessary paperwork.

You loved your job. Seeing life being brought into the world. The smile on the families faces and the happy couples. Even holding the little babies was so heartwarming.

But there are downsides to the job, many than you'd like to say. The tears the yelling, the disappointment. The losses, your biggest fears.

It broke your heart to see a woman push hard only for life to go as soon as it came. You never cried in front of the families; you had to be strong. But you always did at home. You cried for many things. All the lives that could've been or how your life could've been. All things that might have been if you chose differently. Sometimes you'd get lost and end up crying about a dead fish you lost when you were 10. You didn't mind as long as you were crying and getting things off your chest.

Even through your own turmoil you were always there for the families: to give a warm presence. You did all you were allowed. Some others would appreciate the comfort, but some would yell curses at you. You didn't blame them, emotions are high. It's part of the job.

A thick skin.

You've grown it over the years. Whether it's from your own parents, Jungkook's parents or Jungkook himself. You've learnt how to cover up. It's not a good way of living but it's got you through most of the things in your life.

You're grown now. And you pat yourself on the back for what you went through. You were able to make it out and be where you want to be, even through the confusion of life and relationships.

You love your job, and you'd never change it, but it's so easy to feel empty and lonely. Whatever it is you're missing you don't know. But you can definitely feel an emptiness in you.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kim, I'm here to check up on you and the baby." You say walking in and deciding to address them formally. Clipboard in hand and mask forgotten.

It took him a second, then two, then three to recognize that voice. Then when he stared long enough it dawned on him.

"Yn?" Taehyung says dumbstruck. He was sat by his wife talking, while the baby slept, but as soon as he recognized you, he was on his feet.

You never thought he'd recognize you. but you assume you haven't changed that much, or Taehyung just knows you too well. He was your friend too. And it did crush you when you didn't talk to him or ignored him over these years.

"Taehyung." you say trying keep it professional but still acknowledging how you're just as pleased see to him.

"Yn!" you hear him call out in a faux sob. And soon like lightning you feel him crash you with his arms. He squeezes you so tight you might burst.

"I've missed you! why did you leave me?" You can hear sadness in his voice. It hurts your heart. You never meant to ditch him too, but it was difficult to stay friends when you knew where he was Jungkook would be too.

You rub his back in a way to reciprocate the hug as much as you can. He holds you so tight that you can barely move, and you're about to turn blue.

Turning your eyes to his wife, you beg for a hand.

"Tae, you're going to break our baby's doctor." She lectures him and with a final squeeze he lets you go. She's heard of you from what Taehyung has mentioned but not in great detail. Only when he's explaining a funny story that you might have been involved in, and her curiosity grew.

You all laugh as he lets you go, and you collect your breath.

"I'm sorry." His wife apologizes with her sweet voice before she sends a glare to her husband. You shake your head, understanding that Taehyung might have not grown as much as you thought. He's still got that hyper personality of his.

he pouts and turns back to you.

"Yn." He whines and you flinch thinking he'll hug you again. He doesn't.

"Taehyung how have you been?" You say still professional and calmed down. You're excited to see him and just as happy, but it's just difficult for you to adjust after not seeing him for so long.

"Is that all you can say? And why are you so professional?" He whines, and you chuckle at how he's still so childish.

"I'm a doctor, Taehyung. I can't be jumping around like a monkey." You say, clutching your clipboard to your chest.

His wife chuckles and says something about him not maturing yet. You of all people are aware of how childish he can be.

And like for the first time Taehyung takes in your outfit and gasps. "Shit yn you did it." He says with a smile "Doc yn." He teases.

"Don't tease me." you blush.

"I'm so proud of you though. I always thought you'd been kidding about the doctor thing." He rubs the back of his neck feeling embarrassed about doubting you. But you don't take offence as you show him your smile.

"I was very serious as you can see."

You both just chuckle.

"So, we're you...l-like in here too."

"Yeah, I think she was, I saw you right? Docter's assistant, right?" His wife asks.

You nod in affirmation.

Taehyung mentally slaps himself. How could he have not noticed. He feels so stupid right now.

"I'm so glad you delivered my baby." he says with a proud smile.

"Well, I didn-"

"Shut up you did deliver my baby." He slaps down your statement. "No, but like seriously, of all people in the world I'm glad you were the one to do."

You bow smiling, appreciating his words. Doing this feels like apologizing for ditching him. And hearing him say that makes you love you job even more.

"Waaah, look at how professional she is now." He mocks as he turns to his wife to tell her how you were such a brat and party girl. You deny the allegation even though they are true cause you don't want to ruin his wife's perception of you.

You've changed anyways so doesn't matter anymore.

"Don't worry we were all party girls once at least." She says and you can't help but appreciate how kind and sweet she seems. You haven't been introduced to her. But you find it unnecessary when you remember why you actually came here.

"I came to check on you and the baby." You say turning on professional mode which was never off.

You walk over to the baby, who was still sound asleep. Cute.

They all nod, letting you do your thing.

"Tell me yn.." Taehyung says when he's now sat by his wife. "Who does she look like?" He wants to settle the debate they've been having.

"Just be honest."

You turn to analyze the baby you were already scanning. You couldn't help but notice a little bit of Taehyung but when you stare longer you start to see more of his wife.

"I think she shares both of your features quite well." You speak.

Taehyung whines disappointed in your answer.

"She's just being professional, we should ask her when we go for dinner."

Dinner? when did you say you'd be going for dinner. You ignore it.

They talk and you smile at how they tease each other and are happy together. These are always your favorite kind of days.

"What time is Jungkook coming?" His wife whispers to Taehyung, but you're still able to catch on.

Jungkook's coming here? He's going to be here. The hell. You should've expected it, maybe you would've asked someone else to be here instead. But when you think about it you realize how inevitable it was, plus you got to reunite(?) with Taehyung. You doubt you'll see each other after this.

"He should be here soon." Your heart races and throat dries up for whatever emotion your body will not communicate to you.

Fuck. you still have more tests to run, and you haven't even begun with the mother.

You take a deep breath as the baby stirs but still stays calm. You're focused on the baby as you set her back into the hospital crib. The hospital you worked at was a really high-end one. Well, at least the part that Taehyung had picked out. He must be doing well for himself cause these ends are quite expensive.

He's a finance bro, studied finance and got a good job. So, he's differently doing well.

You wonder how Jungkook's doing, is he doing well...

"Look who's a dad."

You hear a knock, then the familiar voice follows. Your heart freezes and so does your whole body.

"Shh." Taehyung lectures him pointing to your direction. "There's a baby"

Jungkook follows his friend's eyes, to you. But he doesn't realize it's you, and you're glad for that. You wish you could just slip out right now.

But why are you the one anxious, he should be the one trembling right now. Not you.

"Can I see her?" He coos and Taehyung nods.

"She's getting a check up though." Taehyung adds as Jungkook walks to you and your heart grows tighter as his steps grow closer. but you choose to stand firm in your spot.

The heels of his shoes tap against the floor and regrets wearing them. But he just came here from the office so he can't be blamed.

"I'm sure it's fine, right doctor?" He says with charm in his voice.

His voice awakens so many things in you. Anger, hate, insecurity, doubt, memory, yearn, search. But mainly anger. Anger at all that still left you burnt and bruised. All the stupid mistakes of your youth that you were warned about and could have avoided.

"I'd advise you wash your hands first." You turn to look at him eyes bland of any visible emotion.

Professional, yn be professional.

"Yn?" He says shocked and smile dropped from its previous spot. He heard your voice before getting to see your face. And if his memory serves him right...he is right. He can't be wrong.

His heart's as far as the sea goes. Nothing and everything go through his mind.

You don’t give him a response.

"Please wash your hands and sanitize if you decide to be close to the baby." No warmth in your voice or room for conversation. Everyone in the room can feel the tension and Jungkook is still shocked to see you, eyes and hands unmoving. He can't figure what he's feeling or thinking, he just...

Never expected to see you here. It's almost like a slap to his face, like the last time he saw you. And at the memory of the day, bitterness and anger sink in him.

You walk past him leaving a cold breeze for him to relish in.

You try to plaster a smile when you see the tension you caused. "Now it's your turn." You say to Taehyung's wife as you begin her checkup.

You're really trying your best to keep it cool, but you can feel the acid by your throat burn.

Jungkook just clears his throat and goes to the sink and washes his hands. Mind lost of any thoughts, but choosing to ignore them as usual.

"So, I'm and uncle huh?" He says trying to clear himself of the tightness in his chest. Even though his voice doesn't sound as confident as before, he's just going to ignore it.

Ignore you.

"She's so cute, she's looks like you Tae." He declares caressing her cheek with his index.

Taehyung cheers and his wife rolls her eyes.

"Can you imagine, yn said she shares both our features."

And the reminder that you're Actually here and not a nightmare is set for Jungkook to relish in.

"Docter's always right Taehyung, you should listen." You don't know whether he's being serious or sarcastic, but you could care less. All you want is to be out of here and away from him.

You want to scoff but choose to suck it in and ignore the remark or whatever it meant.

Taehyung shrugs, deciding to let it go. It didn't matter who the baby looked like. It's all light-hearted. He's just happy that both his wife and the baby are okay.

Taehyung does realize the tension, which cause him to somewhat do things deliberately. He wanted to out loud comment on it but he's just going to let fate do its thing instead.

Once he saw you, he knew you'd have to meet Jungkook. It honestly makes him happy. Even though you're ignoring each other.

"Everything's good, so I'll be taking my leave now." you say. Everyone nods and acknowledges giving you little thanks Yous as you grab your stuff. Only Taehyung and his wife. You managed to ignore him and avoid him and all you have to do now is leave.

But as you're walking out a voice speaks.

"Yn, can we get some water?" Jungkook says, voice certain and eyes lowered at you.

He's just trying to get a rise at you yn, walk away. You try to calm yourself. There's so much bottled that you only realized today. You'd thought your anger died long ago but you guess not.

His statement is simple and not that deep but it's the way he says it and how your name has so much weight to it as he speaks it. Makes you irritated. How he's always made you stretch your neck out for him, but he never did for you.

"It's doctor. And about the water? That's not my job." You say your professional demeanor dropping so you can deliver it with more attitude. He knows it's not your job; he just wanted to say and see that look your face.

Why he did it? He doesn't have a reason but just wanted to (maybe) release the tightness in his chest. It doesn't leave anyways.

Fucking piss of shit.

"We should get married."

You stare at the goofball in front of you a smile forming on your face as you watch him speak.

"What?" You chuckle and he frowns at how unserious you're taking him.

"I'm serious yn, I want to marry you." He holds your hand. "We can get married, we're 19 and we're going to uni soon."

He watches how your face contorts at his suggestion.

"Do you not want to marry me?" He lifts his brow, and you groan.

"I do want to..." you start and as he waits to hear your but "...but..." and there it is "Don't you think we're a little too young for that?"

"We're old enough and plus what matters is that we love each other." he holds you closer to him under the tree you two adored to use to hide from the world.

"We'll get married, go to college together and when we can, get a house and live together."

You loved the sound of that, married to Jungkook and living with him as you went to school and back home to each other. Of course you wanted that life with him, but there's a lot you're scared of,

"And our parents?" You ask worried.

He rubs your shoulder.

"Who cares what they think, I love you and I want to marry you." you blush and lean in closer into him feeling his heartbeat under your palm. You loved being with him, alone and away from the world and that's what you hoped marriage will do for the two of you. Keep your love protected from the world.

"So?" He asked and you knew what you were required to do. "Will you marry me yn?"

You stay silent to tease him and when he tickles you for an answer, you agree to answer.

"Yes Jungkook I'll marry you."

He smiles at your answer and places a kiss on your cheek holding you closer to him.

"I'll always love you yn, not matter what okay?" He squeezes his face into yours.

"Okay?" He's voice is muffled against your cheek as you giggle.

"Okay, Jungkook, okay." your laughter dies down as he stops to place a kiss on your cheek.

You hated this. No. You hated him.

What's he so full of that he can come here and try to be sarcastic with you. In your territory. You'll give it to him that he didn't know you'd be here but to be fair that's not an excuse to be an ass. You'd thought maybe he'd changed.

But no, he's still shitty and condescending as fuck.

You're glad you divorced him, and you're glad to know that you still hate his face. His stupid face. The stupid face that has grown into its masculine and manly features.

You hate that you even noticed that.

"Yn you good? "

"Huh?" You say still brain fogged "Yeah I'm good, just tired." You smile awkwardly and Rosie knows it's a lie. She sits next to you on the break-room bench.

"You sure? " She asks and you nod, not trusting your voice to speak.

"I don't believe you."

"Then don't." You say coming out a little too harsh, you're not mad at her so you apologize for the attitude. You're still set off from the interaction with Jungkook. It was barely an interaction cause you two were avoiding each other like two ships at sea. But the tension and the way you avoided each other's space said a lot.

"Tell me yn." She whines in her bratty voice. "We've been friends since high school, why not tell me."

You sigh. You two have been friends for some time. She's been there for you and Jungkook's first date and your divorce. Damn it you did years of medicine together, so why hide from her. Plus, you know she won't stop bugging till you tell her.

"Jungkook's back." You probably shouldn't have phrased it like that. He's not back, you just happened to meet him while another old friend had a child.

"Taehyung had a baby and they have a delivery room upstairs and I bumped into him." You elaborate.

"Taehyung had a kid?" You deadpan her at how that's the only thing she heard. "Okay, okay" she raises her hands in defence. "So, you just saw him, you didn't talk?"

"No." you never really talked so you wouldn't phrase it as that.

"Then what's wrong darling." She wraps her arms around you and brings her face to yours.

You explain to her what he said and why it pissed you off.

"I'm just kinda pissed off. " You sigh and lean into her.

"He's a dick don't mind him. He's probably miserable and trying to bring you down after seeing you living out your dreams." She tries to comfort you.

You shake your head. "I don't know he looks good-he looks well I mean," you correct yourself. "Plus, Taehyung's in the private suite so I doubt they are anything close to broke."

Rosie doesn't know what to say now, she's not surprised. But you look disturbed and she wants to help.

"You know what? it doesn't even matter." she goes quiet. "You know what? we should go for drinks on the weekend."

Normally, you'd say no. But it's been while since you went out and the weekend was coming and you were weirdly free through all of it. So it wouldn't hurt to go out.

"Okay." Rosie's taken aback by your lack of reluctance. She prepared a whole speech to convince you encase you said no.

"Which bar? " You ask curious.

"Satin."

"Isn't it just opening up?" You stare with a questioning look. The opening of satin was all that was being talked about amongst your friends. So, you'd eventually end up curious and want to go there. it wasn't your plan to go on the first day though.

"Yeah makes it much better to find some rich bachelor." she whispers. "This doctor/residence job isn’t gonna pay for my new car."

You roll your eyes and chuckle at her amusement. She honestly makes you happy and able to forget everything that makes you feel like shit. It's her bright and bubbly characteristic that you envy and seem to lack.

"So, you and yn?" Taehyung asks as he does his warmups. Jungkook laughs at how Taehyung has been warming up for so long. He knows he's probably avoiding real gym work.

"What about me and her?" Jungkook says as he puts on his boxing gloves, trying his best to keep the conversation short.

He's not surprised he's bringing this up, he actually prepped himself for it.

"Still awkward?" Tae bends and stretches. Jungkook points for him to quit it and grab some gloves. He groans and grabs a pair. He should honestly be making most of the time he's got to be in a gym because he won't be here often.

"It's been over 4 years since we talked of course it's awkward." Jungkook sends some practice punches into the air. He needs to quicken this conversation with Taehyung. He knows what he's doing, and he knew it was going to happen as soon as he left the hospital, he was just waiting for when.

"Why not talk it out?" Jungkook almost snorts out at how stupid this conversation is.

Taehyung feels a gush of wind pass his face as Jungkook deliberately missed his face. Whether it's to shut him up, get him ready to work out or just for the fun of it, he doesn’t know. Taehyung doesn't know but Jungkook now options to hit him. He uses his arms to protect himself from the man too focused on working out than the conversation.

"We never talked it out when we divorced, so why should we now." He speaks so lightly of the situation, no emotion or care for it. "We have no relationship." He spits out as he throws a punch that Taehyung dodges.

"Bullshit. You and yn are goals" Taehyung pauses "were goals at least, before whatever the fuck happened."

Jungkook chuckles but it's not anything from genuine amusement or from the good memories you two shared.

"Don't laugh, I'm serious. You need to talk to her and get this shit sorted." Taehyung groans ad he blocks more of his blows. They grow more intense. "I hate being in between you two." Taehyung throws a punch of his own, when Jungkook is slow. "Pity me a child of divorced parents. Imagine how this has traumatized me." Taehyung is quick to his feet to throw a punch and Jungkook is the one to block it.

"Too bad. But you look fine to me, a kid, a wife and a good paying job." Jungkook takes back his dominance.

He's happy for Taehyung, but to say he isn't a little jealous is a..

"And what about you? " Jungkook loses his focus for a second and Taehyung lands a low blow in his gut.

He groans and fixes his footing and gloves as he tries to one-up Taehyung.

"I've got a good paying job. That's all I need." he says bluntly trying to focus on a free spot to throw a blow.

"Lies. Look the universe has brought you two back together, talk it out with yn."

Bang. Jungkook smacks Taehyung in the side of his face. To be fair that felt quite personal and he slightly feels bad for hitting him. He doesn't want him to go home and see his kid while he's all bloody.

But that's what he gets for bringing you up as a topic to talk about. After all these years, like he cares.

He doesn't care. Still, it's not like seeing you doesn't make him feel some sort of way. He feels something. Definitely some type of bitterness, anger and emptiness.

"No. Plus it's been 4 years. Far too long to 'talk it out'. " He air quotes with his gloves on. "And it's not just a small problem, we went through the wringer and failed.” Jungkook uses rapid movements to stop his thoughts. “So even if we talked it out what would it change, we can't be friends anymore. Or lovers at that." He scoffs at the thought.

Taehyung jumps back indicating he wants to stop and focus on the topic. Jungkook groans and rolls his eyes.

Taehyung doesn't care, he'll press on. He knows Jungkook likes to avoid and that's why he'll keep bringing it up.

"Closure, Jungkook closureeeee!" Taehyung empathizes.

Jungkook chuckles. "She divorced me, that's my closure. I signed the papers, that's her closure." He won't lie but he could feel how harsh and insensitive his words sound as they left his mouth. But it's too late to take them back. At least you weren't here to hear them.

"Oh, come on, don't be so stiff hearted." he takes off his gloves getting kind of irritated at his friend for being so reckless and not doing what he should've done years ago.

Fight for you. Make you want to stay. Change and be better. Or whatever.

As a witness Taehyung knows what Jungkook and you had can never be replaced. And even though Jungkook has tried he's just miserable though he says otherwise. But he's just so stubborn.

"Well maybe if she wasn't so stiff minded, we would've been the ones with the kid, maybe even two with a dog even." he says chugging down a bottle of water trying cool his racing heart that races from the exercise and not the thought of starting a family with you. The thoughts have always haunted him. And they've now been revived even more and it's irritating.

"See? Talk it out. " Taehyung says feeling like he's found a weak spot.

"Fuck off. Its never gonna happen. I'm just talking out of my ass." Taehyung knows he's lying; he's always known Jungkook to want a family and the only person he knew that he'd want that was with you. He knows it's hard to reignite something from years ago, but it's never too late to try.

"More like heart" Taehyung whispers and Jungkook sends him a dead-behind -the-eyes gaze.

You had forgotten how much you enjoyed dressing up and going out with your friends. From marriage, to school, to work you've really lost some parts of yourself. You still love and appreciate it all in the good and bad, but you still wish you could have some of your college ways back.

The mini dresses, heels, makeup and hair done. Just reminds you of how attractive you are.

You laugh.

Even through all these efforts you're finding hard to put yourself out there into the dating world. It's all tiring, from the men to the dates, to the kissing and touching that never satisfies. It’s just not the same anymore. Nothing feels good and you hate to admit it.

You decided to go dressed casual but still making an effort.

"Oh my gosh girl, switch bodies with me." Rosie whines as she cheers you on in your outfit. She's dressed in a tiny black skirt and red lace top; she looks so good and you're sure she's gonna leave you alone the whole night.

Rosie always looks good in what she wears, and you admire how confident she manages to be. you wish that for yourself right now.

You do love to dress up. But like most things, you've lost a touch for looking good. Most of your times you're either in your scrubs or in comfy home clothes you wear when you never see the light of day.

But for tonight you make an effort to connect into your inner party girl.

The black, mid-thigh, bodycon dress hugs your figure as its long sleeves hug your arms. Rosie’s favorite part of the dress; the low bare back cut.

You were feeling a little self-conscious about it but when Rosie told you looked hot and you'd definitely catch everyone's eye., you decide to say fuck it and go on.

That's the point of tonight, right? To let go and forget.

"I think it's so fucking cool that Jimin opened a nightclub," Namjoon says, sitting at the back of the car.

"It's quite Jimin of him," Taehyung and Namjoon laugh.

And like a saint, Jungkook keeps his eyes on the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel.

"How about you?" They all turn to Jungkook.

Jungkook finally speaks when he realizes he's being talked to. "What about me?" He speaks as though he wasn't paying attention to the conversation.

"What do you think about Jimin opening a club?"

Jungkook shifts in his seat for no specific reason. "It's cool, I guess."

"Cool?" Namjoon exclaims at how boring and plain his answer sounds. "Come on."

"What?" Jungkook defends himself. "I mean, it's cool, and I'm proud of him. What else do you want me to say?" He leans back into the car seat, finally getting comfortable, but his mind is still so far away.

Taehyung and Namjoon furrow their brows at Jungkook’s tone but soon brush away his lack of excitement or interest. In his defence, he was with Jimin during every step of buying and furnishing the club, so it's not as exciting for him. Only Jungkook had been in on it because he helped Jimin with the legal side of it all. So maybe that's why he's not so excited.

Or maybe it's because of the fact that he's never been one to be a club-goer. It's not that he doesn't enjoy it when he gets the chance, but it's never been for him. You were always the club-goer in the relationship, and you'd always drag him to go. And because you were with him, he would go and enjoy his time. It's all different now.

Clubs feel weird; they hold memories and empty feelings.

"Try to enjoy tonight, okay?" Taehyung pats Jungkook’s back.

He doesn't get the gesture but takes it anyway. Taehyung knows his friend isn't being himself right now, and he's got his suspicions about the cause. But he won't bug him; he’s already done his part.

They walk into the club and soon are met with their blond-haired friend, who excuses himself from the previous conversation to walk over to them.

Hugs and greetings are shared.

"Congratulations, bro! This place is beautiful."

Jimin's proud of how well this place turned out. It's his newfound pride and joy.

The place is a typical high-end nightclub, with the best music, drinks, and food. The decor and ambiance fit Jimin's fantasies to a tee.

"Yeah, all thanks to Kookie boy over here, I was able to buy and renovate it with no trouble." Jimin turns to Jungkook, who seems lost in staring at the place.

The club isn't too crowded; they got there early to look around and talk to Jimin because they knew he'd be busy the rest of the night.

"Ya! Jungkook, are you with us?" Jimin calls him out.

He turns to where he's being called as he blinks. "Y-yeah, I'm here."

They all choose to ignore it, knowing that he can be distant sometimes.

"You guys grab some drinks; I have some people to talk to." Jimin excuses himself, and they know the only time they're going to see him is when the night ends.

Jungkook is the first one to walk off and grab himself a drink; he's going to need it.

You and Rosie planned on going early, but because of traffic and your delay in getting ready, you were two hours late after the opening. You knew it would be packed since it was the grand opening, but shockingly, it was not as crowded as you expected. There was room to move and walk around. Most people were so well-dressed that you'd think this was a gala instead and that you were underdressed. But no matter what, you still felt out of place.

You looked good and felt good, but there’s only so much you can do to make yourself comfortable.

Rosie scoped the place, and when she spotted the bar, she pulled your hand toward it.

"First, we drink," she said, more excited than you. She ordered the drinks, and soon you were handed one.

As you sipped, you felt eyes on you. You'd felt them since you walked in; whether you minded it or not, you didn't know yet. You still felt like a sore thumb, but after this drink, you were sure you'd settle into the scene.

"So many hot men. Damn," Rosie muttered to herself, but you were still able to catch what she said. You chuckled, happy that she was settling in. She was so good at it.

Soon, you were on your third drink—nothing crazy. You weren't trying to get blacked out, but you were definitely feeling a little more settled in.

Rosie left a few minutes ago to talk to some people or whatever. And even though she offered, you declined to go along with her. You weren't up to meeting strangers tonight. You just wanted to enjoy yourself, by yourself. So, you sat by the bar and enjoyed the music.

"You enjoying the night?"

A voice from your left spoke. You took a minute to respond, debating whether the man was speaking to you.

You turned and took in his appearance: blond hair swooped back, making him look clean and professional, and a suit that fit his physique perfectly.

"Yeah," you chuckled, not sounding convincing and not trying to keep the conversation going.

The man seemed to want to continue talking, though, and honestly, you didn't know if you were interested in conversing with him. He didn't seem like a creep, but you could never know with men.

The silence consumed you (excluding the club music), and his presence lingered by your side.

A glass slid in front of you as you looked to the bartender, who then directed you to the man sitting next to you.

"It's on the house." He stared at you with a warm, cheeky smile, and you stared back with a suspicious one.

You took the glass into your hands and brought it to your lips. Might as well make the most of the interaction if he wasn't going to leave. "You say that like you own the place," you chuckled as the liquid slid down your throat. You couldn't help but cringe at how strong it tasted.

The blond stayed silent and watched you, waiting for you to catch on.

"Wait... are you actually the owner?" you paused.

You watched a slow smile form on his lips. He nodded.

You squinted. "Or are you just saying that to try and flirt?" You kept your eyes narrowed.

"The last thing I'd do is lie."

You wouldn't say you were surprised, because now that you looked at him, he fit the picture of a high-end nightclub owner. Even the way he spoke—gently and respectfully—made you want to warm up to him.

But why was he talking to you? Didn't he have other things to do?

"Wow. That's cool. The place looks lovely." You took in the environment one more time. You'd never expect to meet the owner of the club, and you never thought he'd be so young. Older men were typically more likely to own such a place.

"It should, because I spent quite the penny on it." He chuckled, sipping his own drink. You took in his words. How much does such a place cost? Does he own it by himself, or does he have partners? You didn't want to ask, though; you just kept your eyes on him and shifted them elsewhere when he turned to look at you.

"Must feel good to see it so full, huh?"

"Yeah, but..." he paused, and you turned your body to give him your full attention. Finally. "My heart breaks when I see people sitting at the bar, looking like they're not enjoying their time."

You laughed and blushed, embarrassed, knowing that he was talking about you. Is that what you looked like to people? Like you were bored?

You laughed one more time before you decided to speak. "I am enjoying my time," you started, not sounding too convincing at all. "It’s just been a while since I've been out."

He nodded. "I get it. Busy with work?" It was a random question, and he debated with himself on whether to assume.

"Yeah," you laughed, thinking about work, and soon your thoughts drifted back to the man you met, and the bitterness sprang up again, but you hid it, not wanting to sour your mood. You downed the drink, maybe to burn away the feeling and thought, to erase the picture forming in your mind.

"Then you should let loose." He stood, holding out his hand for you.

"W-what?" You choked out with a smile.

"Come dance with me." He was charming; you wouldn't lie, and you were definitely charmed.

"No, I can't..." you laughed.

"You have a boyfriend?" He raised a brow, and you shook your head. "Husband?" You could feel the acid reflux come back up again. You shook your head once more, this time less enthusiastically.

"Then come dance with me. Please?" He held his hand out, waiting for your answer. "Make my night."

You didn't need much sweet-talking; you were going to say yes anyway, but he seemed like a nice guy, and he was attractive—very much so. It wouldn't hurt to dance with someone, even just once. This was your chance to catch up to Rosie’s streak tonight, though no one could compete.

"Okay," you said as you took his hand, which was warm to the touch. Your eyes moved down to his wrist as you noticed the Rolex that adorned it. You weren't a watch person, but that was definitely some high-class stuff.

"Thank you," he said with a smile as he placed an unexpected hand on your lower back. You didn't mind it, and you soon warmed up to it.

You danced for a few minutes, and you quickly forgot your reluctance, letting loose in his arms. He swiftly pulled you back into his chest as you swayed your hips.

"Look at you," he said, complimenting how you smiled and danced. "And you wanted to rot yourself at the bar."

You sheepishly laughed, not knowing what to add. It was definitely nice to get off the stool and dance, especially with someone who had shockingly made you comfortable.

"I didn't catch your name, love," he whispered in your ear as you held onto his shoulders. He felt stupid for going this long without getting your name, but better late than never, right?

"My name's Y/N. What's yours?"

He smiled as he leaned in closer.

"Jimin."

"Jimin? That's a pretty name."

Jimin chuckled. He'd take the compliment.

"Is it?" You nodded. Jimin got lost in your eyes, and you got lost in his as well. "Would you like me to show you around?"

"Like around the club?" You moved back to catch his gaze as he nodded. "Yeah, sure, I'd like that."

So you stepped off the dance floor as he held your hand, guiding you on the path to walk. He wasn't planning on doing anything ridiculous with you; maybe it was just the excitement of being the new owner that had him wanting to show people around.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was still not feeling the atmosphere. Boredom and bitterness still coated his chest. Neither his friends nor the women who came to talk to him seemed to make the night pleasant.

Though he tried to avoid it, the alcohol did help to make the night a little more tolerable. He watched the dance floor from their VIP section as his friends chatted about whatever, and he stared mindlessly.

He listened to how Taehyung refused to drink, only settling for a non-alcoholic beverage since he had to go back home to a baby. Namjoon teased him for his newfound sense of responsibility.

"What the fuck is up with Jungkook?" Namjoon asked Taehyung directly.

"Maybe it's because he bumped into Y/N at the hospital. Did I tell you?"

Namjoon shook his head. "What was she doing there? Don't tell me she had a baby too!"

Taehyung scoffed at Namjoon’s suspicion. "No, she's a doctor. I think he'd lose his shit if she did, though. Just look at how affected he is from seeing her."

He definitely would. He'd lose his shit real bad.

"So you think it's about that?" Namjoon took a sip.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Did they seem cool at all?"

"As cool as two bulls seeing red," Taehyung scoffed.

"I'll be back." They heard the subject of their conversation speak as he stood.

"Damn," Namjoon said, watching Jungkook walk away.

Jungkook had been dodging every woman who came into contact with him. Tonight was about supporting Jimin, not finding a hookup. Plus, he had been too busy with work to even find interest in hooking up.

To be honest with himself, he had been quite thrown off since the day he saw you at the hospital. Your white coat and blue scrubs complemented your skin. Fuck, he hated it.

He hated being off his game; it was the anger he felt. He had always wondered what he would do if he ever saw you again, and he had never known the answer. Even right now, he didn't know what to do about it. But he didn't need to think too much about it. He had only seen you once, and that was that. It’s not like he was going to see you again.

Gosh, he always wondered if you stayed in Seoul, and it looked like you did. He had always felt fine not knowing if you were within the city or not. But now that he was sure you were still here and probably frequenting the same places he did, the town felt small, and the air felt suffocating.

He was angry, bitter, and confused. With Taehyung in his ear, he grew more bothered by your existence. He had been fine when he never saw you, never knew where you were, or if you were okay—not knowing if you had ever moved on or not. He had been fine not knowing and just forgetting about you.

Or at least he thought he was.

Seeing you just opened a wound to something he had forgotten—not healed.

Since that day, he had been bombarded with thoughts and worries about you. He had questions, but he didn't know if he would be able to ask them if he opened his mouth. Or if he would even want to know the answers to some.

Whenever you were around and he opened his mouth, he just let his bitterness take the lead and speak for him.

He did feel shitty for what he said. To the outside eye, it might have seemed harmless, but between the two of you, it held more weight, and he should have known better than to say it.

Why couldn't he have just said "hi"? Like a normal person.

"Have you gotten the chance to go over the results?" Jungkook's assistant asks as he walks into his office. Is he an assistant? More like an associate, rather.

"No, I just got them, so I only skimmed through." To be honest, he's been trying to balance a lot lately: his work, this case, his thoughts, and his emotions—specifically, you. He's never had this much trouble before, but it needs to stop. It's a big and emotionally sensitive case he needs to work on, so he needs to have his full focus on analyzing the case and not on what he did to lose you.

"Take a look," Jaehyun suggests to his superior, who seems out of it. "And I was thinking we should get a doctor to testify." He lays out the papers on Jungkook’s side table, and Jungkook lets him, watching closely and trying to pay attention.

"I can have some doctors go over the report and—" Jungkook's voice intercepts and startles the younger man.

"No. That won't be necessary. I already have someone." Jungkook says, a small smile taking over his face.

This is a good chance for him to see you again and get the opportunity to apologize for what he said. And maybe his mind will leave him alone.

"You've got to be kidding me! Why am I being haunted?" you exclaim, disbelief flooding your voice as you approach the front desk. The sight of Jungkook standing there sends a rush of conflicting emotions through you—anger, frustration, and an undeniable pang of something else you refuse to acknowledge. Jungkook knew you wouldn’t be happy to see him, but all he hoped was that you wouldn’t make a scene.

"Don't be childish," he replies, his tone clipped as you draw closer. "Look, I’m not here to argue; I just want to talk." He pulls you aside, creating a small barrier between the two of you and the bustling crowd around the desk.

"Nothing to talk about, Jeon," you mutter, folding your arms defensively. Surprisingly, you don’t walk away, even though every part of you screams to escape. You tell yourself it’s to avoid causing a scene, but deep down, you know it’s more complicated than that.

"I need your help." His rushed, hushed words catch you off guard, and you can’t help but snicker, a bitter laugh escaping your lips.

"With what?" You feign disinterest, but the urge to provoke him lingers, like a moth drawn to a flame.

"A case I'm working on. I need a doctor to testify." His seriousness is almost comical, and for a moment, you think he must be joking. It feels like a cruel twist of fate—he rose from the ashes of your past just to humiliate you all over again.

"And you came to me to recommend someone? I'm pretty sure you have other people to ask." You turn to leave, your heart racing with a mix of indignation and something softer that you refuse to acknowledge.

"I want your help." His words stop you in your tracks, and you feel a flicker of something—hope? Regret? You roll your eyes, trying to mask the turmoil inside.

"This is stalking, Jungkook. Just because you know where I work doesn’t mean you can show up whenever you feel like it." You find yourself trying to ignore the weight of his previous words, the way they linger in the air between you.

Jungkook sighs, frustration etched across his features. He knows he shouldn’t have come here; it’s weird, especially given the history between you two. What made him think you’d suddenly warm up to him after four years apart? He should have thought it through before leaping at the opportunity. But there’s something familiar about being around you, something that feels like home, even after all this time.

"I'm sorry," he says, and the words take you aback. You never thought you’d hear him apologize for anything. Your hands drop to your sides as you struggle to look anywhere but at him. "I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry. But I need your help." He doesn’t necessarily need your help, but he sure does want it. It’s not the apology you’ve been waiting for, but it stirs something deep within you.

"No, I’m not going to. Plus, I’m just a junior doctor," you say, your tone softening as you reluctantly engage in the conversation.

"You got your degree, didn’t you?" He asks, and you nod, feeling a flicker of pride. Before you can respond, he continues, "Practicing license?" Another nod. "Work experience?" His questions come in a rush, and you knit your brows together, feeling the pressure of his expectations.

"Yeah," you reply, glancing around your workplace, filled with patients, doctors, and nurses, all oblivious to the tension crackling between you two.

You shake your head, trying to ground yourself in reality. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It’s all you need to testify and ensure your words aren’t null and void."

For a fleeting second, you consider it. Then you don’t.

"And honestly, why the hell would I want to help you?" You snap back, your arms folding across your chest once more, a barrier against the emotions threatening to spill over.

"You're not helping me; you're helping a little girl." His words freeze you in place, and suddenly, the weight of his plea sinks in. "Honestly, I don’t care if we’re good or not. I just need your help. She needs your help."

You don’t know if it’s his new method of guilt-tripping or the sincerity in his voice, but the statement has you straightening your back, your resolve wavering.

"Don’t guilt trip me," you lower your eyes at him, and he scoffs, a hint of amusement dancing in his gaze as he watches your expression shift.

"I'm not," he insists, and maybe it’s the cheeky smile that suddenly forms on his face that makes you shy under his gaze. Jungkook’s words have always had a way of getting to you, and you’re shocked to find that it still works. You guess it’s a good thing he became a lawyer; it suits him.

Jungkook sighs, his expression softening. "You know what? If you don’t want to help me, it’s alright. I get it—"

"I’ll help you." The words escape your lips before you can fully process them, and you can’t help but feel a mix of surprise and resignation.

You had spent more time than you wanted with Jungkook over the week, but it was just to prepare you. Once you helped him, you hoped he’d leave you alone and you could finally go your own way, trying to forget as much of him as you could.

"What should I wear?" you asked him over the phone. It reminded you of conversations you’d had before visiting his parents. You promised to only use his line for talking about the case, and that’s what you were doing; afterwards, you swore you were going to delete it.

"Wear what you want." He leaned back in his chair, listening to you talk while paying close attention.

"Even my underwear?" You tried to be sarcastic.

You could hear Jungkook’s soft chuckle, and it warmed your heart, making you blush. Thoughts of your late-night calls flooded your mind, but you quickly caught yourself.

Stop, you told yourself as you wiped the smile off your face.

"Not for the court." His index and middle fingers found their way to rubbing his lower lip. You could hear the sultriness in his voice, and his tone reminded you of something—ah, phone sex.

Why the hell are you thinking this? Shit.

"Wear what you want, just make it presentable." His tone shifted back to serious. Your silence made him think he had crossed a line. Honestly, he didn’t intend to; it just came so naturally to him.

You sighed. Jungkook waited for you to end the call, but you didn’t.

"Goodnight," you finally found the courage to say, ready to end the conversation.

"Goo—" Before he had a chance to respond, the line beeped, and you hung up.

The thought of hearing his voice and having it embedded in your mind once again was too much for you to handle. Hearing his voice was already overwhelming.

It was deeper, more mature, and sensu—

"Not possible for the injuries sustained to be accidental or self-inflicted," you assert, your voice steady and confident, just as Jungkook instructed you to be. Your gaze drifts to him, and you catch his encouraging smile, a small nod that sends a rush of warmth through you. It feels good to have him there, supporting you, but the past few days spent working on this case with him have left you in a whirlwind of emotions, unsure of what to feel.

"So, Mrs—sorry—Doctor," Jungkook’s counterpart interjects, the slip of your title not an accident but a tactic that has Jungkook sitting up straighter in his chair, adjusting his suit. He senses the tension in the air and doesn’t like where this is headed. "What you’re saying is that it’s not possible?"

"Y-yes." You can see how the slip-up has thrown you off balance; your tone falters, but you fight to maintain your confidence, even as you avoid Jungkook’s gaze.

"Not in this lifetime or the next?" The pressure mounts, and you feel the anxiety bubbling within you, your palms growing clammy as your heart races.

"I’ll never want to be with you again in this life or the next," you had yelled at Jungkook one night before your divorce, the memory echoing painfully in your mind.

What the hell is happening? Your heart constricts, and you feel the weight of the room pressing down on you.

"Yes," you say, your voice firmer now, desperate to move past this line of questioning. The only time you’ve ever been in a courtroom was to sign your divorce papers.

"And perhaps, do you think you’re not knowledgeable enough to determine this?" he presses, and you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

"No. If you’re not satisfied, I have many other doctors’ statements with me," you retort, a hint of cockiness creeping into your tone.

"Not necessary." He shrugs it off, turning to his table to pick up some papers. "But I do have to ask..."

A smirk plays on his lips, and Jungkook feels a knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach.

"Are you maybe a little biased in your opinion because of your close relationship with Counsel Jeon?"

You freeze, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. Stay calm, Y/N.

"What do you mean?" you ask, your voice steady but your heart racing.

"Objection, Your Honor. What he’s asking is unnecessary," Jungkook interjects, his voice firm.

"Overruled."

Jungkook groans, frustration boiling beneath the surface. This isn’t what he wanted, but he should have expected it. He got too carried away enjoying your presence, even if he won’t acknowledge it.

"Go on, Counsel." Now you’re about to be grilled about something you’re not prepared for.

"Thank you, Your Honor. Now, Ms. or Mrs.," he jeers.

"I prefer Dr.," you snap back, irritation flaring as you feel your professionalism slipping.

"Doctor, are you married?"

You chuckle, the absurdity of the question almost making you laugh.

"In front of the court?" you tease, your tone a mix of annoyance and playfulness. Jungkook can’t help but feel a swell of pride at how you’re handling yourself. You’ve always had to defend yourself against his family, and he’s felt like a coward for not standing up for you when you needed it most.

"That’s not what I mean, and you know it."

You shrug your shoulders, insinuating otherwise, and take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"No, I’m not."

"So, divorced? Because it was made known to me that you and Counsel Jeon had an intimate relationship." His words cut deep, and you bite your inner cheek, hoping you don’t draw blood. "Could your statement and judgment be influenced by the romance you two share, henceforth you help him and influence others to do so?"

Your mouth goes dry, and you take a moment to collect yourself, refusing to look at Jungkook, afraid of the look in his eyes that might make you break down.

"Jeon and I don’t share any sort of relationship outside of this courtroom," you say, your heart constricting painfully. Jungkook shifts in his seat, frustration simmering as he wishes he could react, but he knows he can’t.

"But you have, am I right?" he bellows, clinging to the idea. "Four years ago, married for two years, no children." With each word, you bite harder into your cheek, feeling the pressure mounting.

"Your Honor!" Jungkook tries to interject, but he’s ignored.

You glance at the judge, and Jungkook recognizes that look on your face —the same look you’d give him at family dinners, a silent plea for him to speak up, to defend you. But he never did, and the weight of that regret crushes him. Why was he such a coward? The determination to protect you surges within him, and he knows he can’t let this continue.

The judge looks at you, waiting for your answer.

So, you take a deep breath, steeling yourself against the onslaught of emotions.

"Yes," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Who ended the relationship?" he snaps back, the pressure mounting like a vice around your chest.

"I did," you respond quickly, the words spilling out before you can think.

"And was it because of something he did or something you did?"

"Objection, Your Honor!" Jungkook’s voice cuts through the tension, sounding more agitated than he intended. His assistant can see how unlike him he’s being; he’s never responded with this much emotion, but the stakes are too high.

"Skip the question, Counsel." The judge’s tone is firm, and Jungkook feels a flicker of satisfaction, but it’s not enough. He needs to get you out of this situation.

"Why did you end the relationship?" The defence attorney presses, and you can feel the weight of the room closing in on you.

"The typical—I wasn’t happy," you say blandly, though inside, the iron taste of anxiety lingers.

"Have you and Mr. Jeon rekindled that old flame?"

Would you call hanging out to prepare for this case rekindling? No. Would you call enjoying his presence and calling him for small things about the case rekindling a flame?

You almost laugh, but it’s a hollow sound.

"No," you reply, your voice steady.

"Then why are you helping him here today?"

"I'm not helping him; I'm helping the little girl."

You can see a smile appear on the defence attorney's face, a smugness that makes your skin crawl.

"Do you know her personally?" he asks, dripping with sarcasm, but you refuse to bite.

"No."

"Then why help? Why should you care about a stranger?"

"I don’t need to know a person to care for them. That’s one of the reasons I am a doctor. She’s just a child, and I have an obligation to defend her when I can," you say, your voice rising with conviction.

But beneath that conviction, a deeper feeling wells up inside you—a longing to be defended yourself. All your life, you’ve faced hellfire from your parents and others, and all you ever wished for was someone to stand up for you. Maybe that’s why Jungkook had stolen your heart in high school; he was there for you, defending you from bullies and creeps. But when it came to his parents, he had failed you.

"Is it the girl you care about or Counsel Jeon?" The defence attorney’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and frustration bubbles to the surface. Your heart races, and you feel the walls closing in, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You might just have a panic attack.

Jungkook sees it, his palms sweating as he fights the urge to intervene.

"Tell the court, Doctor. Tell them how you still hold feelings for him and are doing this to get back with him. You don’t care about that little girl; you care about Jeon and helping him because you still love him, and your findings are biased and inaccurate."

His words press down on you, and you feel yourself slipping. In this moment, you’re bound to say anything—true or false—just to escape this suffocating situation. Jungkook is uncomfortable in his seat, knowing he can’t react how he wants to, but something in him still wants to know what you might say.

"I don’t love him; I was young and stupid when I married him, and it was a mistake," you rush out, frustration spilling over as you fight to free yourself from these overwhelming feelings. You don’t want to break down here, not in front of everyone, not in front of Jungkook.

You’re on the verge of tears.

The defence attorney opens his mouth to speak, but Jungkook’s voice cuts through again.

"Your Honor, my witness is uncomfortable and has done what she came to do. Anything else is unnecessary." His tone is fed up, and he’s not about to let this continue. If the judge says no, he’ll pull you out of here, consequences be damned. He can’t bear to watch you suffer like this. He’s hurt you enough in your life, and he blames himself for forcing you into this situation.

"I’ll agree with Counsel on this," the judge finally says. "The witness is free from the box."

You let out a sigh of relief, but it’s hard to move. The weight of the moment lingers, and you feel the tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. You turn on your heel and storm out of the courtroom, not daring to glance back at Jungkook. The rush of emotions is overwhelming, and you can feel the tears welling up, blurring your vision as you push through the door.

"Y/N, wait!" Jungkook calls after you, his voice cutting through the chaos in your mind. You can hear his footsteps echoing behind you, but you don’t stop. You need to get away, to breathe, to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the courtroom and the weight of the past that hangs between you.

Once you’re in a clear area, he catches up to you, grabbing your arm gently but firmly. "I can’t just let you go like this."

You pull away, your heart racing. "I came here to help, not to get grilled about something I’m still trying to forget, Jungkook." Your voice trembles, the tears finally spilling down your cheeks. You wipe them away angrily, but they keep coming, each drop a reminder of the pain you’ve been trying to suppress.

Jungkook’s heart breaks at the sight of you, vulnerable and raw. He’s seen you cry before, but this feels different—more intense, more real. "I know, and I’m sorry. That’s how the court is. But it’s my fault," he says, stepping closer, his voice low and earnest.

"If I had known, I would’ve—"

"You would’ve what? Defended me? There’s nothing you’ve ever done to defend me unless it was to soothe your own ego or pride," you spit out, the venom in your words reflecting the hurt that has festered for so long.

"Y/N…" He pleads, searching for the right words, but they elude him. You’re the only person in this world who can silence him, whether it’s with your sweetness or your rage. Normally, he’d have a comeback for anyone else, but with you, he’s left speechless.

"Don’t say anything. I’ve helped you, and I honestly hope you win—not for you, but for that little girl." You take a shaky breath, trying to regain your composure. "But please, never come to my work again or even call. Please." Your voice softens at the end, a desperate plea that cuts through the anger.

His heart aches at your words. You’re asking him to leave you alone, but deep down, he knows you don’t really mean it. Your heart is pleading for him to hold you, to tell you that everything will be okay, that he’s there to protect you. But he can’t say that now—not when you’re so hurt.

He doesn’t fight back, not like he usually would. This time, it’s strategic. He knows you’re angry, and there’s nothing he can say to change that. He respects your wishes, but he won’t let you go—not this time. He’s let his cowardice and lack of effort keep you from him for too long, and he’s realized he doesn’t want to be away from you anymore.

"Truly trouble in paradise?" The voice that had once torn down your walls now cuts through the tension like a knife, and Jungkook can think of nothing but the seething rage boiling inside him.

"You’re a fucking piece of shit," Jungkook growls, his voice heavy and thick with fury. He barely registers the curious glances from those around him; all he can focus on is the man standing before him, the source of his torment.

"Being good doesn’t pay, Jeon," the man sneers, a smug grin plastered across his face. In an instant, Jungkook’s anger ignites, and he lunges forward, wrapping his fist around the man’s collar, the force of his grip wiping the smile off his face. The adrenaline surges through him, amplifying his strength and fury. He could easily crush this man, and the thought is intoxicating.

But just as he’s about to unleash his pent-up rage, his assistant, Jaehyun, steps in, urgency lacing his voice. "Jungkook, please." He grips Jungkook’s arm, trying to pull him back from the brink. Jungkook’s jaw clenches tighter, his eyes locked onto the man beneath him, a tempest of anger and pain swirling within. He’s ready to say fuck it and end this right here, right now. He could do it, and a dark part of him wants to.

But he knows better. This isn’t just about him; it’s about you. It’s about the mess that has become your lives, and he can’t let his anger spiral out of control—not for himself, not for anyone, and especially not for you.

With a surge of frustration, he shoves the man backward, watching as he stumbles but manages to catch himself, quickly dusting off his shirt. The sight only fuels Jungkook’s rage further.

"Fuck you, you piece of shit," Jungkook snarls one last time, his voice low and dangerous.

The man smirks, a cruel glint in his eyes. "I’m not the one with a failed marriage, Jeon." The words hang in the air, a taunt that cuts deeper than any physical blow. Jungkook feels the heat of humiliation wash over him, a reminder of everything he’s lost.

"Where’s she?" he demands, his hand running through his hair in a desperate attempt to regain control.

"She’s left. She got into a cab," an intern reports, the words hitting Jungkook like a punch to the gut.

"Fuck," he breathes, his fingers tangling in his slicked-back hair, ruining the carefully styled look. The realization crashes over him like a tidal wave—he’s losing you, and the thought sends a fresh wave of panic coursing through his veins.

"It's not that serious, Y/N. That's just how my mother talks," Jungkook says as you step into your shared apartment, the familiar space feeling more like a prison than a home. It’s decent, sure, but right now, it feels suffocating.

"Insulting and degrading me is how she talks? Because I don't see her talking to you or Yujin like that," you retort, your voice sharp and laced with hurt. Jungkook’s jaw clenches at the comparison, the tension in the room thickening as he grapples with your words.

"Maybe she's still salty about me disobeying her," he mutters, making excuses for her behavior, as if that somehow justifies the way she treats you.

"That's no fucking excuse," you snap, your voice tight, hands swinging in frustration. The anger bubbling inside you is a mix of hurt and disbelief.

"Mind how you talk to me, Y/N," he barks, turning to face you, his tone harsh and commanding.

"I'll talk however I want to, seeing that you let your mother do the same," you shoot back, watching as he freezes mid-motion, the tension palpable.

You had just returned from Jungkook’s parents' place for dinner, and it had been a nightmare. You had to bite your tongue, suppressing the snarky remarks that threatened to spill out, knowing you’d be blamed for everything regardless. The only one who had stepped in was Jungkook’s father, and while you appreciated it, it felt like a hollow gesture in the face of his mother’s relentless barbs.

"She's my mother! What do you want me to say?" he hisses, frustration etched across his face.

"I WANT YOU TO FUCKING DEFEND ME!" The words burst from your lips, raw and desperate. You rub your face, trying to rein in your emotions, lowering your tone to avoid a noise complaint. "Defend me, Jungkook. That's all I want." Your voice trembles, and you can feel the tears welling up, threatening to spill over.

"I don't want to look like a joke in front of your family every single time we visit," you continue, your heart racing as you lay bare your feelings to someone who seems to be slipping further away. "Being made a fool of, even more, when you don’t say anything."

"That’s how she is, Y/N, please," he says, defending her yet again, and it feels like a knife twisting in your gut.

"Only to me?" You place a hand on your chest, trying to emphasize your pain. "I get it; I’m not the best or perfect daughter-in-law, but does that mean I have to get insulted? It’s not like I’ve ever done anything to her." You search his eyes for understanding, but all you see is a wall. Maybe he’s just fallen out of love with you. Maybe he doesn’t care anymore.

"The problem is that you always see it from your side. You're so selfish!" And there it is—his words hit you like a slap, igniting a fire of indignation within you.

"I'm selfish? What have I ever done to be called selfish?" Tears stream down your face, but you refuse to let them silence you.

"THIS! Right here. Your bratty and victim behaviour." He throws the shirt he had on onto the bed, changing into another one, as if he can shed the weight of this conversation along with his clothes.

"You're just a coward, and you'll never grow to defend anyone, honestly. Between the two of us, you're the selfish one," you say, your voice breaking as you give up trying. You’ve fought so hard, but it’s exhausting when the other person won’t even meet you halfway.

"Say whatever you want, Y/N," he replies, his tone dismissive, never acknowledging that you might be right.

"I'm just going to sleep over at my mom's," you say, the words feeling like a surrender.

"Go ahead," he mutters, not even bothering to turn and face you. The silence that follows is deafening, a chasm of unspoken words and unresolved feelings stretching between you.

You both stand there, two people in a shared space yet feeling more alone than ever, the weight of your unaddressed pain hanging heavily in the air. As you turn to leave, you can’t shake the feeling that this might be the beginning of the end.

"You sure you’re okay? Never thought you’d come here by yourself," Jimin says, handing Jungkook a private bottle. He never expected to find himself here alone either, but things change, and feelings hurt more than he cares to admit.

"Yeah, just need some alone time," Jungkook replies, his voice flat, devoid of any life. Jimin stares at him, unsure of how to approach the situation, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between them.

"Work?" Jimin tries, hoping to pry a little more out of him.

"Yeah. Let’s say that." Jungkook’s response is vague, and he knows he’s not convincing anyone. But Jimin doesn’t press further, even though a million questions swirl in his mind.

He feels a pang of sympathy for his friend, especially not knowing how to help. Jungkook has been quiet and standoffish lately, but tonight feels particularly off. He swears he’s fine, but the facade is crumbling, and Jimin can see it.

"I'm sorry I won’t be with you all night; I’ve got a date." Jimin feels guilty for leaving Jungkook alone in the club, but he can’t bail. It’s not like Jungkook wants company anyway.

"You’re not gonna ask me about her?" Jimin tries to lighten the mood, but Jungkook’s expression remains stoic. He wouldn’t want anything more than to drown out the running thoughts in his head. "Fine, I’ll tell you." Jimin smirks, the thought of describing you igniting a flicker of excitement in him.

"Her name’s Y/N. She’s so gorgeous, and I invited her to hang out with me for the night." The moment your name leaves Jimin’s mouth, Jungkook’s heart drops. What the fuck did he just say? Should he be pissed? The jealousy ignites within him, a burning spite that roars louder than the music in the club. But should he even feel this way? It’s been two weeks since the court incident, and he’s been hating himself since. He hopes you’re doing better than he is.

"She’s so hard to get a hold of because she’s busy with work or something," Jimin continues, oblivious to the storm brewing inside Jungkook. With each word, Jungkook feels himself slipping further into a dark place, the alcohol numbing his senses but amplifying his emotions.

"Or maybe she doesn’t want you," Jimin adds, taking a swig from his drink. Jungkook’s mind races. You and Jimin? The thought sends a wave of anger crashing over him. He hates how things went down between you two, how he’s been unable to think about anything else. He just wants to fix it so badly, but maybe going out with Jimin would make you happy.

Jungkook knows he’s the problem, and he’s understood that for some time now. But how can he show you that he’s learned and changed? Letting you go off with someone else? Maybe that’s what he deserves.

He wishes he could say something to Jimin, tell him not to do anything with his wife—you. But he’s not in a position to make demands. It would be fair to tell Jimin who you are to him, right? But the thought of it feels like a weight too heavy to bear. He lacks the mental strength to confront the reality of his feelings.

"No, she definitely wants me. I wanna dine her and wine her, treat her good, you know?" Jimin’s words grate on Jungkook’s nerves, irritation bubbling to the surface.

"Maybe you should get going," Jungkook says, his tone harsher than he intended, the frustration spilling over.

"You’re right." Jimin takes the hint, perhaps realizing he shouldn’t be talking about himself right now. "Enjoy yourself." He walks away, leaving Jungkook to wallow in his thoughts, his jaw locked and his hand tightly wrapped around his glass.

As the music thumps around him, Jungkook’s mind spirals. He can’t shake the image of you with Jimin, the thought gnawing at him like a relentless itch. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the jealousy and regret swirl within him, a tempest he can’t escape.

Soon, he finds himself wandering around the bar, lost in a haze of emotions, searching for something—anything—to distract him from the reality of what he’s losing. The night stretches on, and with each passing moment, the weight of his choices presses down harder, leaving him feeling more alone than ever.

"Just sign here," your lawyer says, sliding the paperwork across the table to Jungkook. He feels as if the air has been sucked from the room, and he can’t breathe. He holds his breath until the reality of the moment crashes down on him, forcing him to gasp for air. It feels like he’s dying anyway, suffocating under the weight of what’s about to happen.

On the other side of the table, you haven’t been breathing since those damn papers were printed out and handed to you. You know you’ve made stupid choices in your life, but now you’re left questioning which is more foolish: marrying at such a young age or choosing to divorce Jungkook.

"So that’s it?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he drags the pen across the dotted line. He can’t bring himself to look at you, his gaze fixated on your lawyer instead. Deep down, he had a feeling this would happen, but why wasn’t he prepared to fight for you? If you were so eager to end it, maybe you didn’t want to make it work, and he wasn’t going to force you. But the bitterness of it all gnaws at him, and he can’t help but hate you for this. There’s so much he despises about himself in this moment.

"Yes," your lawyer replies, holding the papers closer, as if they’re a lifeline. A heavy, suffocating weight washes over you as you stare at Jungkook, who can’t even muster the strength to meet your gaze or try to stop you from doing this. Anger and bitterness swell within you, so overwhelming that you can’t bear to be in his presence any longer. You turn and walk out, already having taken all your things from your shared home. There’s no need to see him again.

He didn’t even fight. The words echo in your mind as your lawyer follows behind you, leading you to their car. You glance back at the entrance door, half-expecting him to come after you, to call your name, to plead with you to stay.

But he doesn’t.

Something keeps Jungkook frozen in place, hands trembling and breath coming in labored gasps. Is this how it feels to be heartbroken? He never thought it would happen, not to him, not to you two. You were each other’s first love, always together, and never had anything this grand happen before. All he can think about is how you gave up on what you had, how you threw everything away.

Selfish.

"Get a grip of yourself," Taehyung says, his eyes focused on the baby he’s rocking and feeding. "She'll cool down." Taehyung is never serious enough to grasp the gravity of things, which makes Jungkook roll his eyes so far back he might just see the moon.

"I really fucked up," he says for the hundredth time since that night, as if repeating it will somehow make it less true. "I was so selfish." The words sink deeper into his skin each time he utters them, like a bad tattoo he can’t scrub off. He had spent so long thinking it was your fault, ignoring his own feelings and the situation, never reflecting on it until now. "All she wanted was for me to care." He buries his head in his palms, closing his eyes to wallow in the darkness of his misery.

"I'm so fucking shitty," he continues, and Taehyung listens, trying to block the baby’s ears from Jungkook’s foul language. The baby coos, blissfully unaware of the emotional turmoil swirling around her.

"It’s pissing me off that this is when I’m actually seeing it. I spent so much time trying to ignore it." Jungkook can’t seem to find a comfortable position on Taehyung’s couch, shuffling around like a toddler who just drank too much juice.

"That’s why it’s good to reflect," Taehyung says, not really helping but still managing to sound wise. The baby lets out a little gurgle, and Taehyung quickly rocks her to quiet her down. His wife had gone out to buy some things and hang out with her friends, leaving Taehyung more than happy to babysit.

"But I’ve changed, haven’t I?" Jungkook stares at Taehyung, who’s clearly lost in his own world but still hears the question.

"It’s shocking," Taehyung replies, deadpan. From what he’s seen, Jungkook has definitely evolved from his childish self. His childish self would’ve either hidden under the bed, afraid of his own feelings, or yelled out in rebellion against them. Taehyung can actually see how grown his friend has become, but that doesn’t mean he’s fully synthesized maturity.

"How am I going to prove that to her?" Jungkook asks, his voice tinged with desperation.

"I don’t know," Taehyung deadpans, and Jungkook shoots him a look that could curdle milk.

"Thanks for the help, buddy," Jungkook mutters, feeling like he’s talking to a wall.

Taehyung shrugs, clearly not interested in baby-feeding Jungkook the answers. He’s just an ear, and he did his part.

"Did I tell you that Jimin invited her there, and that’s the only reason I got to see her? Fucking universe," Jungkook continues to ramble on. He’s usually quiet these days, so should Taehyung be happy that his friend is talking or antsy that he’s never shutting up?

"You did tell him?" Taehyung asks, finally meeting Jungkook’s eyes.

"No. I couldn’t. I don’t know why."

“Does she know?”

“Doubt it.”

Taehyung groans and chuckles, but low enough not to stir the baby. "Do you think they’ll..."

Jungkook lifts a brow at his friend. "What? Hook up?" The thought itches at his core, and now that he’s thinking about it, he wishes he had told Jimin. He can still call, right? "I hope fucking not," he spits out, bitterness dripping from his words.

"He doesn’t know, and you didn’t tell him, so you can’t blame them." Taehyung’s right, and it bugs Jungkook even more. He feels so stupid.

Jimin was a friend Jungkook had after your divorce, and since he never saw you, you never got to meet him. Jungkook and anyone else never talked about you, so Jimin was lost at the fact that Jungkook had been married to you, though he did know that the guy had been divorced after a drunk night of Taehyung talking nonsense.

"I’m so fucking stupid, stupid," Jungkook grumbles like a child, and Taehyung laughs, now holding the infant over his shoulder to burp her.

"Spent so many years being bitter and hating her when it was my fucking fault." The realizations keep dawning on him like a bad sitcom.

"Dick move."

"You’re not helping," Jungkook snaps, but Taehyung just laughs at the thought that he’s here to help him. Right now, he’s just playing the role of the listener so that Jungkook doesn’t look crazy for talking to himself and making these realizations. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help or advise his friend; it’s just that there’s not much he can do except listen.

"Look, I’m not on your side; I’m on the side of whatever’s gonna get you back together," Taehyung states, his tone serious for a moment.

"She won’t even talk to me, Tae," Jungkook pouts, but it goes unnoticed by his friend, who’s too busy celebrating the successful burp of the baby.

"You don’t know that," Taehyung replies, still rocking the baby gently.

"Maybe I don’t want her to," Jungkook mutters, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. "Maybe I want her to just keep ignoring me and move on with her life." Something in him wishes he could leave you alone to set you free from himself, but that was the same mindset that got him divorced in the first place. Maybe if he fought for you, you’d be in a better place. So that’s what he wants to do—fight for you this time.

"I was really such a bad husband. So stupid and naive. I’d be mad at me too," he admits, his voice heavy with regret.

Taehyung continues to walk around, rocking the baby. "Maybe instead of telling me this, you should tell her."

"She doesn’t even want to see me! How am I gonna do that?" Jungkook exclaims, throwing his hands up in exasperation. He genuinely doesn’t know, and he’s never known a foolproof plan that could help him. He’s just hoping the universe can lend a helping hand, seeing that it’s been invested in their relationship anyway.

"I don’t know, but just remember to not be a creep," Taehyung advises, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

"Thanks for the tip, Dr. Phil," Jungkook retorts, rolling his eyes. "I’ll just show up at her door with flowers and a serenade. What could go wrong?"

"Hey, if you can pull off a serenade without scaring her away, I’d pay to see that," Taehyung chuckles, and the baby lets out a tiny sound, as if she’s in on the joke.

"So how are you feeling?" Rosie asks, noticing how deeply you're staring into your coffee, as if it holds the answers to all your questions.

You continue to stir it absentmindedly, letting out a sigh. Not even the cozy warmth of the café seems to ease the turmoil inside you.

"To be honest, I don’t know," you reply, releasing an empty chuckle. All you've been thinking about is Jungkook. You’re not even sure what about him, but the fact that he occupies your mind so much is starting to annoy you. And Rosie can see it too.

"Do you think talking to him could make it better?" she asks, taking a cautious sip of her drink, her eyes searching yours for a hint of clarity.

You manage a smile and finally meet her gaze. "I don’t even want to think about talking to him."

"Yn," Rosie whines, leaning in slightly. "You need to. Not for him, but for you."

You sigh again, feeling the weight of her words. "It’s just really hard to do." You stare off into the distance, lost in thought about what you really want to do.

What is right?

"Do you think you still have feelings for him?" she treads lightly, gauging your reaction.

"I don’t know," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Seeing him has definitely made me think a lot, but that doesn’t change anything. I don’t even know if he’s changed as a person."

"If he has, would you get back with him?" She raises a brow, fully focused on you now, her curiosity piqued.

You throw her an undecided look, your brow furrowing in confusion.

A smile grows on her face. "You would, wouldn’t you?" she laughs, and you shake your head, letting out a nervous laugh of your own.

You're blushing, and it feels like a betrayal to your own feelings.

"I never said that," you protest, trying to sound firm but failing to hide the uncertainty in your voice.

"It’s not about what you said; it’s about what you’ve shown," she counters, her tone teasing yet insightful.

With a shrug and a heavy silence, the conversation hangs in the air. You’ve been asking yourself that same question too, and honestly, you aren’t sure of the answer. You just don’t want to think about it at all.

"I'd love to, Tae, thank you," you reply, your voice a little shaky. Taehyung called you unexpectedly, and when you saw his name flash on your screen, a wave of anxiety washed over you. Part of you feared he was calling to ask about what happened between you and Jungkook, and you honestly wouldn’t know where to begin if that were the case. So, you’re relieved when he doesn’t bring it up.

"When?" you ask, trying to sound casual, but your heart races. You never thought he was serious about the dinner plans he made, let alone that he would actually remember them. But he did, and once he got the chance, he made sure to reserve a table for four and call you over. He didn’t mention the reservation for four part, though; he probably thought it would be better to let you find out when you arrived, so you wouldn’t run away.

"Will Sunday be good for you?" he asks, his voice sounding professional, which makes you assume he’s at work. It’s Wednesday, so that makes sense.

"Yeah, sounds perfect," you agree, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling in your stomach. It’s just you, Taehyung, and his wife—there’s really nothing to be anxious about, right?

As Sunday approaches, you find yourself in a bit of a panic. It’s one of those fancy restaurants, and the exceptional service is only proof of how upscale it is. You struggle to find something decent to wear, your nerves making it hard to focus. After a good search in Rosie’s closet, you finally find the perfect dress. Perfect for who? You, of course.

Rosie is a little skeptical about you going to dinner with Taehyung, but you explain that he’s still a good friend and you wouldn’t want to decline the offer because that would offend him. Plus, it’s not like you don’t want to be there; you don’t mind. After all, it’s Jungkook who’s the problem, not Taehyung.

She reluctantly accepts your reasoning, but along with her questions, she expresses her concern that Jungkook might be there. That’s a point of contention. You swear to her that Jungkook wouldn’t be there, and she swears that he would. You don’t want to acknowledge the idea, but the fear of the possibility still lingers. If Jungkook was going to be there, Taehyung would have mentioned it, right?

As you walk into the restaurant, the server gestures for you to hand him your jacket, and you do so, your hands trembling slightly. He then directs you to the table where you’ll be seated once you tell him the name the reservation is under.

You walk through the room, your long, form-fitting dress hugging your curves. The rich red color complements your skin beautifully, and you can’t help but feel a little more confident. You really like this dress and doubt you’ll be giving it back. The thin straps rest delicately on your shoulders, and the straight neckline keeps your chest modest yet elegant. You hope you’re not over or underdressed.

When you finally spot Taehyung, he nods over to you, and you let out a sigh of relief, realizing you’re neither under nor overdressed. His wife is wearing a cream satin dress, but you can’t determine the length since she’s seated and hidden by the table. Taehyung has a warm smile on his face, dressed in a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up, looking effortlessly charming. You walk toward them with a smile and a little excitement bubbling inside you.

That’s until Taehyung turns to talk to someone else. His wife is sitting on his other side, so if it’s not her he’s talking to, then…

Your body freezes for a second, and you contemplate turning around right now. The door isn’t so far away; you could make a run for it. You can feel your joints go rigid, but somehow, you find your way back to your chair. You let out a sigh as you take your seat, trying to shake off the tension. Jungkook had wanted to pull your chair out for you, but you brushed him off, and he was polite enough to accept your refusal.

You try to contain the rapid beating of your heart, which is now racing because of the unexpected presence of the man sitting next to you. Straightening your back and rubbing your palms together, you attempt to maintain the light and warm ambiance at the table. The last thing you want is for Jungkook’s presence to affect how you present yourself tonight.

Turning to greet Taehyung’s wife, Jian, you feel a flicker of relief since she’s the only one at the table you’re not annoyed with. Taehyung really brought you here knowing Jungkook would be here too. Was he in on it, or did he come here unaware of your presence? Are you both being set up right now? Is this some sort of intervention? You’re aware of how much Taehyung likes you and Jungkook together, and while you appreciate his concern, some things are just meant to be forgotten, buried.

“How are you?” you ask Jian, trying to sound cheerful despite the turmoil inside you. She greets you back with the same enthusiasm.

“You look so beautiful! How’s the baby?” You couldn’t help but ask; something about the doctor in you wanted to know.

“Perfect. My mom’s been a huge help,” she replies, her bright smile lighting up her face as she gracefully brushes her long, straight hair out of her eyes.

“That’s lovely,” you say, genuinely pleased for her.

“You look gorgeous too,” she compliments, and you can’t help but feel your cheeks heat up, a blush creeping in.

“I try,” you respond, attempting to stay modest. You don’t think you’re all that, but you do make an effort from time to time. Jungkook, on the other hand, would disagree; he thinks (knows) you look good in whatever you choose to wear, even when you don’t try. However, he’s not going to argue that you look stunning tonight. He could barely keep his eyes off you as you walked to the table. You couldn’t see him, but he could see you, and you looked great. He wanted to die, but Taehyung had to remind him to pull himself together.

It was then that your body shifted from fluid to solid. You had noticed him, and you didn’t seem happy at all. Jungkook felt a pang in his chest when you stopped him from pulling your chair out for you. He’s not going to blame you for it, though.

“It’s nice to see you out of your scrubs,” Taehyung says, and you can’t help but lower your eyes at him. He notices your glare and understands the reason for it. The little smirk he gives you makes you want to smack him right across the face. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

You chuckle, but it’s bitter.

“I’m sorry if I kept you all waiting,” you apologize, playing with your fingers as they rest in your lap. They hadn’t ordered yet, probably waiting for you, and your overthinking takes over, soon turning into guilt. You did try your best to get here on time, and you did, but you still say it anyway. Maybe it’s your internal tactic to lessen your nerves.

“No, you didn’t. Jungkook just came before you,” Taehyung says, clearly eager to push the agenda.

When he remembered he wanted to make plans for dinner, he told Jungkook and planned on bringing him too so they could talk. But right now, Jungkook looks like he’s going to lose his head, his eyes glued to the menu like a child.

“Mm,” is all you can manage as the awkwardness begins to grow, thickening the air around you. You can feel Jungkook’s presence beside you, and it’s both comforting and unsettling. You steal a glance at him, and he’s still focused on the menu, but you can sense the tension radiating off him.

The conversation around the table continues, but you find it hard to engage. Your mind is racing, and you can’t shake the feeling that this dinner is about to take a turn you’re not prepared for. You take a sip of your drink, hoping it will calm your nerves, but it only amplifies the fluttering in your stomach.

"She's such a good and peaceful baby, honestly," Jian exclaims with joy, and you can’t help but smile at how happy she is to talk about her little one. Taehyung stares at her, completely enamored with everything about her.

"I think she takes that from Jian," he adds, and laughter fills the air as everyone agrees. Between the couple, Jian is definitely the more relaxed and laid-back one. It’s funny how in your relationship with Jungkook, it had been the opposite. He was the laid-back one while you were the more outgoing, which is one of the reasons you got along so well with Taehyung. But for some reason, in this situation where you’d normally be talkative and engaged, you feel off and out of it. Jungkook notices your silence and curses himself for even coming; he feels like he’s ruined your night. He should have just left. Or not come at all.

You all order your food, each of you choosing what you want. You’re not entirely sure about some of the items on the menu, but the only person you could ask is the one you’re trying to avoid speaking to. So, you go for something you think will go best with how you’re feeling tonight.

Soon, the food arrives, one by one. Jungkook watches as your plate is placed in front of you. It’s not because he envies the meal—though it does look good—but because of the yellow garnishes on top that you hadn’t noticed. Just before the plate touches the table, Jungkook intercepts. “These have pineapples on them?” he asks the waiter, his tone serious.

“Yes, sir, it’s used for garnishing,” the waiter replies, and you watch as Jungkook investigates the young man, his face stern and his tone confident.

“Please bring her one without pineapples; she’s allergic,” he insists, and that’s all you can think about. Your heart flutters at how he remembers something about you, or maybe it’s just the effect of being close to pineapples.

How could he forget? Just because you aren’t together doesn’t mean he’s going to forget everything about you. How could he forget the little things about you that kept him up all night?

“You’re still allergic, right?” he asks, and you nod, finally acknowledging his presence for the first time during the night. You hadn’t realized that the meal you ordered was garnished with fancy-cut pineapples that you never would have noticed. You appreciate that he remembered and was able to spot it; otherwise, the night would have been even worse.

The way he stares at you, worry coating his eyes, makes you want to melt. You’ve just realized how much you missed this part of Jungkook—the one who would lead and speak out for you, the one who got you through those high school days.

“Sure, I’ll be right back,” the waiter says, bowing slightly before walking away with your plate.

Before your eyes move to your lap, they land on Jungkook, who’s staring right into them and welcoming them with a smile. You quickly look away, clearing your throat, feeling a rush of heat flood your cheeks.

Fuck, does he want to make this harder for you? Why is this so much more difficult than it should be? Your heart hasn’t stopped racing since you saw him, and you wish you could just pull it out and burn it. Why the hell is it beating so fast around him?

“That would’ve been bad,” you awkwardly chuckle, and Jungkook hums, feeling warmth engulf him. It’s a warmth mixed with a little confidence—the confidence to talk to you. Though he doesn’t show it, Jungkook is no better. He can feel his collared shirt grow tighter, even with one button undone. It’s as if he’s not comfortable in his own skin and just wants to rip out of it and beg you to talk to him. It’s tiring to just play it cool.

You wait for your food, and as you do, you notice that Jungkook hasn’t touched his. He’s simply looking around, not doing a very good job of it.

You want to lecture him, tell him to just eat—that’s what you’d do if you were still together. But you’re not, and the thought makes your heart go rigid. Why is it that the thought of not being with Jungkook is the only thing that stops your beating heart?

You feel bad. Maybe you’re being too difficult, and you’re a little harsh with him. Are you being too harsh? Or just looking out for yourself? Even through that, it doesn’t stop you from ignoring him. Even if you wanted to talk to him, what would you say?

The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy, and you can feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. You glance at Jungkook again, and for a moment, your eyes meet. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze—an unspoken question, a longing, perhaps. It makes your heart race even faster, and you quickly look away, focusing on the tablecloth instead. The intricate patterns seem to swirl and dance, a distraction from the tension that’s building between you.

The waiter returns with your new plate, setting it down gently in front of you. “Here you go, one without pineapples,” he says, and you offer him a grateful smile. Jungkook watches as you pick up your fork, and you can feel his eyes on you, a weight that both comforts and unnerves you.

“Thank you,” you say softly, and for a moment, you think you see a hint of relief in Jungkook’s expression. It’s fleeting, but it’s there, and it makes you wonder if he’s been holding his breath this whole time.

“So Jungkook won his case,” Taehyung says after a moment, clearing the air for a new topic. It’s something you don’t want to think about, but you can’t help but feel a flicker of pride for him.

“That’s nice,” Jian replies, and you nod in agreement. You’re genuinely glad he won. It’s nice that at least he’s helping other people, even if it doesn’t fix your own relationship.

“And I heard a special someone had something to do with it,” Taehyung adds cheekily, his gaze shifting to you. You roll your eyes with a light chuckle, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. He’s really going hard at it.

“Tae, shut up,” Jungkook snaps, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Maybe if I throw a stick, he’d leave,” he whispers, and you can’t help but laugh at that. Jungkook lifts his eyes to you, listening to the sound of your melodious chuckle that he never realized he missed. Seeing you laugh at his joke gives him a little more confidence about all of this, a glimmer of hope.

“It was fine being in court for something other than—” you start, but then you cut off your statement, not finding it appropriate to finish. Thankfully, no one decides to question you on it, and you’re relieved. Jungkook knows you well, and having been there, he understands what the end of that sentence would sound like.

“But at the end, it got really suffocating,” you smirk, knowing only Jungkook would get it. He shifts in his seat, moving a little closer to you, and you can feel the warmth radiating from him.

“I’m sorry about that again,” he says, his eyes focused on you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Instead, you use your peripheral vision to watch his features soften as he speaks.

“Lawyers are heartless,” you say in a light-hearted tone, the words feeling directed at Jungkook, but he’ll never know that.

You all laugh, the sound filling the space between you, but it feels different now—charged with unspoken words and lingering emotions.

“Not our Kookie, though,” Taehyung chimes in, grinning. “Very un-heartless.”

You chuckle, but there’s a weight to your words. “Yeah, very.” You finally turn your eyes to meet Jungkook’s, and in that moment, your words feel empty, but your eyes aren’t. They hold a depth of feeling that you can’t quite articulate, a mixture of nostalgia, longing, and something else—something you’re not ready to name.

Jungkook’s expression shifts as he holds your gaze, and for a heartbeat, the world around you fades away. It’s just the two of you, caught in a moment that feels both familiar and foreign. You can see the flicker of emotions in his eyes, and it makes your heart race.

After some time, Jungkook just decides to say fuck it. He can talk to a large crowd, but with you, he feels paralyzed. You’re just one person—one person with his heart on the line. He knows he has to say something to you, and he just hopes you’re open to talking.

Do you even feel anything? Are you feeling the way he is? Does he have an effect on you like you have on him? Because if you don’t, then he’s going to feel like a fool. He just hopes you feel the same way. In high school, you were the one worried if he felt the same, but now it’s him.

After all, you could have moved on. You could be better and not need him. But unlike the image of you he has in his mind, he’s not okay. Not okay with this distance. He hates it.

“How are you enjoying your food?” he asks, turning to you while Taehyung and Jian talk about whatever.

“Good, it’s nice to come out once in a while,” you reply. It’s not a one-word answer, and he’ll take it. Is it his imagination, or do you seem interested in talking to him?

“How often are you busy?” he gulps, “with work, of course.” He sounds stupid and nervous, but you find it cute. Why do you find it cute? It’s really hard not to feel this way about someone you already know so well.

“Enough to make me want to pluck my eyes out,” you laugh, and he smiles. Even though you don’t make eye contact with him, he can feel you warming up to him. “But recently, work has been light,” you add, talking to him like you would when he asked you about your classes in high school.

“You like it?” he asks, hoping it’s not weird, but he can’t take his eyes off you. He just can’t.

“I do,” you reply, and he feels his heart thaw like frozen meat.

“T—that’s good,” he stammers, taking a bite of his food to stop the smile that threatens to spread across his face.

All of this is nice, but you can’t help but feel overwhelmed. You feel confused. Is he just talking to you because you’re the only one he has to talk to, or is he actually interested? It’s like being promised something only for the promise to be broken. You don’t want to get your hopes up. Not again.

“Please, excuse me,” you say, your head held down as you stand up from the table.

“Sure,” he replies, but soon grows worried. He brushes it off, telling himself he’s overthinking it. It’s going well; you’re talking to him, and that’s what matters. Baby steps.

You leave for the bathroom, needing some air that isn’t filled with Jungkook’s scent, which is now engraved in your sinuses and will probably haunt you. While in the bathroom, you pull out your phone and text Jimin, asking if you’re still on for later. You had made plans with him, and you did want to go, but now that you’re staring at the text, you wonder if what you’re doing is right.

It’s not like you and Jungkook are getting back together, and whatever this is between you two feels complicated. It just feels wrong. Maybe you should just cancel. Jimin’s a good guy, though, and he doesn’t deserve this. It’s better for him to find someone who’s sure and knows what she wants—not you, sitting in the bathroom contemplating where you and your ex stand.

“Stop being so awkward, man,” Taehyung says, playfully pulling at Jungkook’s leg under the table.

“I’m trying,” Jungkook whines, his frustration evident. “It’s hard.”

“You can talk up a whole court, but you can’t with Y/N?” Taehyung teases, raising an eyebrow.

“Plus, it’s not that hard,” Jian chimes in, pulling Jungkook’s attention away from his spiraling thoughts. She should be the only one he takes advice from, he thinks. “Just show up and put in effort in the conversation, and she’ll warm up to you.”

“See how she warmed up to you when you asked about her work?” Taehyung adds, and Jungkook starts to get it. “All Y/N wants is for you to show up and be there to listen and care.” Taehyung feels like a relationship counsellor right now; he should get paid for this. If their relationship works out, Jungkook should definitely pay him.

Jian places a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder to shut him up, a knowing smile on her face. “But don’t forget to be the guy she fell in love with,” she adds, her tone serious yet encouraging.

Jungkook sighs, feeling the weight of their words. He knows he needs to be himself, the version of him that made you smile, the one who could make you laugh until your sides hurt. But the fear of messing things up again looms over him like a dark cloud.

“I think I’ll get that one,” you say, pointing at the dish you’ve chosen.

“Alright,” the waiter notes it down, his pen scratching against the notepad.

Jungkook leans in closer, a playful glint in his eyes. “They have banana pudding on the menu,” he whispers, knowing how much you love it.

“Really?” Your face lights up with excitement as you turn to the waiter. “How good is your banana pudding?”

“The best,” he boasts with a confident grin.

“Then I’ll have that instead,” you say, your smile widening as you place your order.

Once the waiter walks away, you glance back at Jungkook, who has been momentarily distracted by the pianist playing softly in the corner. But as soon as he feels your gaze on him, his eyes shift to meet yours. The moment feels electric, and you find yourself wanting to look away, but you hold your ground, challenging yourself to stay connected.

Jungkook watches you softly, waiting for you to speak. “You remember how much I like banana pudding?” you ask, your voice light and teasing. It feels a bit childish, and you want to slap yourself for it, but Jungkook seems to be enjoying this playful banter.

“Of course,” he replies, his familiar bunny smile spreading across his face. “Remember that time you almost killed me for eating the last one?”

You burst into laughter, the memory flooding back. “You should’ve known better,” you say, shaking your head in mock disapproval.

“I should’ve,” he admits, chuckling along with you.

Taehyung, sitting across the table, can’t help but feel giddy as he watches the two of you smile at each other. It’s like a scene from a romantic movie, and he’s here for it. The atmosphere around the table feels lighter, filled with warmth and nostalgia.

“Y/N, how did you travel?” Jian asks, reminding you that the night has to come to an end.

“Uber,” you reply, a hint of reluctance in your voice.

“So you’re going back with an Uber?” she clarifies, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you say, because what other options do you have?

Taehyung turns to look at Jungkook, who seems as lost as ever. “Maybe Jungkook can drop you off,” he suggests, a hopeful tone in his voice.

Why hadn’t you thought of that? You smile sheepishly at the idea, but it makes you sweat a little. “No, I’m good. Don’t want to burden you,” you say, trying to brush it off.

“You’re not a burden,” Jungkook says immediately, his voice firm as he hears you call yourself that. You’d never be a burden to him. “Plus, it’s late, and Ubers aren’t all that safe. Let me drive you home.”

You want to say, “How sure are you that you’ll be safe with him?” but it would just sound stupid. Jungkook has never once made you feel unsafe. In fact, the thought of being alone with him feels comforting. It’d be a good chance to save some money—or more like have more time with Jungkook. “Okay, sure,” you say, not wanting to argue.

“My car’s over there,” Jungkook points to the opposite side of the parking lot, and you realize you should probably say your goodbyes now.

“It was nice seeing you, Y/N,” Jian says as she pulls you into a hug. She hopes you and Jungkook get back together so that she can spend more time with you.

“Nice to see you too,” you hug her back. “Say hi to the baby for me.”

“If she’ll understand,” Jian laughs.

“I’m sure Taehyung will communicate,” you throw Taehyung a side-eye, and he narrows his eyes back at you, feigning offense.

He hugs you tightly. “Thanks for coming,” he says, and the embrace gives you flashbacks of the time he hugged you at the hospital.

You pat his back. “No problem. I enjoyed it.”

“I’ll call you; please don’t avoid me,” he says, his voice earnest.

You raise your hands in defense. “I never do.” But as you think about it, would you ignore him if he called? It would be weird, right? Especially not knowing where you and Jungkook are going. If you and Jungkook don’t work out (you can’t believe you’re even thinking about it), does that mean you wouldn’t have to talk to Taehyung or Jian again?

“Goodnight, bro,” Taehyung says to Jungkook.

“Goodnight,” Jungkook replies.

“Take her straight home, okay?” Taehyung lifts a warning finger to Jungkook, and you and he scoff.

“Taehyung, let’s go,” Jian says, pulling him away, and you all laugh. If Taehyung hadn’t pushed Jungkook, would he even be in this position? A position of opportunity to make up for everything or at least show you that he’s trying.

Once the goodbyes are over, you walk to Jungkook’s car, and you can’t help but bulge your eyes at how beautiful it is. He opens the door for you. “Thank you,” you say politely. Just when you think he’s about to close the door, he leans in.

“I’m sorry, can I take a call?” he asks, and the height difference, along with the way he looks down at you, makes you want to melt into a puddle.

“Don’t let me stop you,” you manage to say, trying to keep up with your racing mind.

You watch him walk in front of the car and further away. You can’t help but wonder who could be on the other end. Work? Taehyung? Or maybe a girlfriend? You never did find out if he’s single or if he’s been out. You’re sure he has. It’s not like you weren’t. But you feel the same type of incompletion when you spend time with other people.

The thought of him talking to some girlfriend right now sends a swarm of moths fluttering in your stomach. You won’t ask; it’s none of your business.

No matter how much your mind wanders, you can’t deny that you’re ogling how huge Jungkook has gotten. His shoulders, his muscles, which his shirt does a bad job of hiding. He’s built like he eats, sleeps, and drinks the gym. And damn, you’re getting flustered just by looking at him.

Watching how he talks on the phone, how he places his tattooed hand into his pocket, makes him look so incredibly hot. Wait, tattoos? How did you miss them? You squint to get a closer look. He actually does have them, and they make him even more attractive.

What’s wrong with you? Get it together. You’re literally drooling. When you laugh at yourself, it must have been loud because Jungkook turns to look at you. You smile, trying to prove to him that you’re okay, and he smiles back. Why do you feel so giddy? It’s just a smile.

You allow him to finish his call, which doesn’t last long. He walks back to the car, sliding into the driver’s seat, his thighs constricting against the material of his pants.

“You ready to go?” he asks, his voice low and casual, but you can feel the tension in the air.

“Yeah,” you reply, your throat suddenly dry.

He starts the car, and the engine’s purr matches the rhythm of your racing heart. As you drive through the city, the night lights paint your face in a soft glow, and you take a moment to admire the view outside the window. The city feels alive, vibrant, and you can’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over you.

Jungkook glances over at you, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary. “You look great tonight,” he says, almost too quietly, but you catch it. His fingers drum against the steering wheel, a nervous habit you’ve come to recognize.

“Thanks,” you say, feeling your cheeks heat up, but the red light from the traffic stop hides it well.

“You still have that necklace?” he asks, his eyes flicking to the dainty silver chain around your neck.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you reply, instinctively holding onto it a little longer. He had gotten it for you during your honeymoon phase, but you stopped wearing it when your relationship got rocky. You hadn’t even realized you put it on for tonight.

“I enjoyed seeing you tonight,” he says, his heart pounding as he takes a chance. He did enjoy being in your presence, but did you feel the same? He can’t help but question where you stand. Do you want what he does? But he can’t ask.

Your focus drifts back to the window as you enjoy the ambiance of his car. How many women has he had in here? Were they just as at peace as you are right now? You don’t like to bother yourself with the thought, but your brain and heart are in tandem, and they won’t let it go.

The thought of him being with someone else ignites a flicker of jealousy within you. You breathe in and out, trying to calm yourself. You can’t be upset; it’s not your place. You’ve never considered yourself a jealous person. You were always sure of Jungkook’s love for you, and so was he. So there wasn’t much to be jealous of. But once your marriage and relationship began to falter, you doubted everything—the kisses, the touches, the time spent together, the ‘I love you’s. It all became foggy, the memories a blur.

And it wasn’t because they weren’t there or that you didn’t still feel deeply for him, but because there was no one to assure you they actually existed. Were you lying to yourself about Jungkook’s love? Was he lying to you?

Why would he marry you then?

You had no anchor to keep you there, only questions—questions that would never be answered at the time and questions you’d never bring yourself to ask now.

“We don’t have to talk, you know,” you say, the sentence coming out in a whisper, laced with fear, not anger. Fear that if you talk, you might end up saying more than you want to.

So, he just drives. The silence and tension consume you like fire. Not even Jimin’s text asking when he can pick you up can bring you any joy that it would have if Jungkook never existed. But he does; he exists so vividly, like a looming cloud carrying the sign of a storm—a storm that’s about to consume all the walls you’ve been building for the past four years.

Jimin: When can I pick you up?

Jungkook sees you stare at your phone like you’re about to throw it out the window. He wants to ask who you’re talking to that’s got your face in a knot, but he chooses to keep his eyes on the road this time. He can only imagine who’s texting you at this hour. Jimin? He grips the wheel tighter.

Y/N: Don’t.

Jimin: ???

Y/N: Don’t come.

Y/N: You’re a great guy, Jimin. And I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone who’s in a more stable place for you. But it’s not me. I’m really sorry. I enjoyed my time with you, but I just have a lot going on.

Jimin: An ex?

You pause and glance at Jungkook, who has one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the window sill. He doesn’t turn back to look at you.

You: I guess so.

Not really, more like just yourself.

You: I’m really sorry I got you into this. You’re a good guy.

Jimin: You’re good too. Thanks for not leading me on.

Jimin: Wish you the best.

You feel sick. You and Jimin hadn’t gone far, barely held hands . But he was hoping for more, and you feel terrible for it. You liked him; he was definitely someone you’d go for if, well… if the man driving you home right now wasn’t so much on your mind.

You: You too.

The temperature in the car shifts drastically. One moment, you’re comfortable in the warmth of the moment, and the next, you feel a chill creeping in, as if the universe is reminding you that this night is coming to an end. Just a little longer, you think. You want to hold onto this feeling, this connection, but you know it’s fleeting.

“Thanks for driving,” you say as you pull into your apartment complex, trying to break the silence that feels heavier than before.

“Not a problem,” Jungkook replies, his voice steady, but you can sense the tension beneath it. The night is over, right? It’s over. When you leave now, you’ll never see him again. Good. It’s good, right?

But it’s not over for him. As you walk toward your building, you turn to find him following closely behind you.

“Where are you going?” you ask, half-expecting him to say he has a girlfriend living in the same building that he wants to visit, and that’s the only reason he even drove you here. Your mind races with insecurities.

“Walking you up to your apartment,” he says, his tone firm yet gentle. He looks nervous, and you can see it in the way he fidgets with his hands.

“I’ll be fine,” you insist, pulling your coat closer to your body as you watch him stand there, not budging.

Just as you have a stare-down, the bush to your far left stirs. Someone stumbles out, clearly intoxicated, struggling to stand. The universe must not be on your side. The neighborhood doesn’t have drunkards roaming around much, or ever. But tonight, it seems, must be your lucky day.

You turn to Jungkook, and he gives you a look that tells you he’s not backing down.

“For my peace of mind?” he asks, his voice softening, and it almost makes you want to give in.

“Fine,” you relent, feeling a mix of annoyance and gratitude.

With the same tension and silence, you both step into the elevator to your place. As the numbers light up, Jungkook speaks, “This is a nice place.” He genuinely seems to admire it, and you can tell he’s trying to make conversation. It’s good to know you’re in a safe place.

“Yeah,” you reply, but your mind is racing. What kind of place does he live in? A mansion? A penthouse? Or just a simple apartment? What’s his décor like if he ever got that far?

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. You step out, and Jungkook follows closely behind. The hallway feels long, and the silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken words.

You tap in your code and step into your warm space, the familiar scent of home wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Still standing by the door is Jungkook, and still holding the door open is you. Is this what you two have become? Cowards. Liars. Pretenders?

“Um, I guess this is goodnight,” you say, your eyes glued to the hinges, avoiding the weight of his gaze. How long are you going to hold on?

“I guess so,” he replies, his voice distant as he stares into your home absentmindedly. You can feel the tension thickening the air between you, and it’s suffocating. Jungkook knows he won’t get another chance to see you again if he leaves without saying anything. There’s only so far the universe can go for him.

“Can I talk to you, though?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

You sigh, feeling the familiar frustration bubbling up. “Not this again, Jungkook.” Isn’t this what you want, though? For him to talk, to communicate? What are you fighting?

“It’s alright that your friend grilled me in court; you don’t have to apologize,” you add, trying to keep your tone steady.

“It’s not fine,” he insists, his eyes narrowing slightly, determination flickering in his gaze. “He shouldn’t have. He was just trying to poke at me, and it’s not fair that you had to be in the middle.”

You don’t speak, mainly because you want to see how far this will go and how much he has to say. You can feel the weight of his words hanging in the air, and you’re not sure if you want to catch them or let them fall.

“I know I’ve been a shithouse of a guy to you, especially in the past,” he continues, his voice cracking slightly. “But I’ve changed, Y/N, and I hope you can see that.”

Do you? Do you see how his walls break down to welcome you? He could get on his knees to show you, and the thought sends a shiver down your spine. He holds onto your door for stability, as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Jungkook…” you start, but the words get caught in your throat. You want to believe him, to see the change he claims to have made, but the scars of the past are still fresh in your mind.

“Just hear me out,” he urges, his voice low and earnest. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, and I can’t take that back. But I want to try. I want to be better for you, for us. I miss you, Y/N. I miss us.”

"A lot of things should have been done differently by me in our relationship and i acknowledge that." When he finishes his sentences, he looks at you. He’s eyes are filled with anger but not to you, to the memory of that day and all the guilt he feels.

"Thank you." You don’t know what more to say, it’s not your turn to talk. So, you just hold your arms to your body.

"It's what I should’ve done, its what I always should've done." He bows his head. He gives up on holding back. He’s tired, and it’s fucked for him to hide from his solace.

Sniffle.

If it’s not you he can cry to, then who?

"Jungkook,-" your heart sinks when you hear him sniffle. He’s crying. You can be distant all you want but you can’t take seeing him cry.

You close the space between you and cup his cheek. You’re tired of fighting too.

He leans into your touch and slowly wraps his hand around your wrist, praying you keep it right there.

His wide eyes stare down at you filled with tears that threaten to fall.

"I'm sorry yn. I'm really sorry and I wish I could go back in time and Change things and be better for you, for us." They fall, yours too.

"I wasn't good and I understand why you did what you did.” He doesn’t even want to call by name. “It was me, I was the selfish one and I regret it." he pulls your hand to bring it to his lips and place a kiss on your pulse. "I regret it so fucking bad yn"

"come here.” you pull him inside and shut the door.

“I was so was stupid. And I feel shitty for even trying to justify it but I was stupid. And a dick." He kisses your wrist as you use your other hand to push back the hair that sticks to his tear stained face.

"We were both stupid." You won’t say you didn’t have your bad moments.

"Not you. You were always right and I wish I listened to you and maybe we'd be in a better position."

He closes into you, bringing your foreheads together. Instincts. You just have to do what feels natural.

"Maybe"

“Definitely,” he whispers, brushing his nose against yours, and your mouth parts instinctively. “I’m really sorry, bunny. I really am.”

The nickname he used when you were together hangs in the air, a bittersweet reminder of what once was. It used to make your heart race, but now it feels like a ghost of a feeling you can’t quite grasp anymore.

your mind has no clue where to place its home.

You breathe in the warmth of each other’s presence, lips hovering just a breath apart, the tension palpable. He gently pulls your wrist behind you, guiding your arm to wrap around his neck, while his hand finds its place on your waist. Your palm rests against his heart, feeling its frantic rhythm, a silent plea for connection. You’re wrinkling his shirt, but it’s the last thing on his mind.

His gaze is locked onto your lips, a silent yearning begging to be fulfilled. What’s stopping him? Is this what you want? Do you want him back like he wants you? The questions swirl in your mind, a tempest of doubt and desire. Have you thought about him every single day since you last saw each other? No—since the day you divorced. Did you ever truly stop thinking about the moments you shared? The late-night kisses, the laughter, the way you both craved each other’s presence like air.

His lower lip brushes against yours, and a shiver runs down your spine, igniting a flicker of longing deep within you. “I want to kiss you so bad,” he pleads, his voice thick with emotion. “Can I kiss you?”

A nod is all you can produce. You want to, you’re pulled to.

And so, he does. The moment your lips meet, it’s like a wave of relief crashing over you. He’s your relief, your solace in a world that feels chaotic and uncertain. As your lips intertwine, you wish for nothing more than to stay in this moment forever, to linger in the warmth of his embrace.

You taste exactly as he remembers—like peace, if peace had a flavor. Sweet and intoxicating, he doesn’t want to part from you. He deepens the kiss, pulling you even closer by your waist, and your hand crumples his shirt tighter, as if anchoring yourself to him.

God, you missed this. You missed him. A tear rolls down your cheek, a mix of joy and sorrow, a release of all the pent-up emotions you’ve been holding back.

But then, as if the universe is cruelly reminding you of reality, he pulls away. for a kiss that was supposed to give you an answer it brings more doubt.

The air thick with unspoken words.

“I missed you so much."

You would say you have been the confused type. From what your university major should be to who you want to be, you’ve never known. The path ahead has always felt murky, a winding road with no clear destination. But one thing you did know was that you wanted to be with Jungkook.

That's what younger you wanted anyway.

The dreams you spun in your mind were filled with laughter, love, and the warmth of his embrace. But now, as you sit here, grappling with the weight of adulthood, you find yourself asking what the adult version of you truly wants.

Amidst all the turmoil, what you really desire is to be happy—to be set free from the guilt of your previous choices. You want to shed the layers of regret that have built up over the years, the “what ifs” that haunt your thoughts like shadows.

Younger you always thought Jungkook would be the one to give you that happiness. You really wanted him to be that. The thought of his smile, the way he made you feel alive, filled you with hope. But now, as you reflect on everything that has transpired, you’d be lying to yourself if you said the thought of being with him again didn’t scare you.

The fear is palpable, a tight knot in your stomach. What if you opened your heart to him again, only to find that the past still lingers, that the wounds haven’t healed? What if the love you once shared has transformed into something unrecognizable? The idea of vulnerability feels daunting, and the stakes seem higher now than they ever were before.

You think about the late-night conversations, the dreams you shared, and the way he used to look at you as if you were the only person in the world. But you also remember the pain, the misunderstandings, and the way everything fell apart. It’s a delicate balance, and you’re not sure if you’re ready to tip the scales in either direction.

As you sit in the quiet of your thoughts, you realize that the journey to happiness isn’t just about finding the right person; it’s about finding yourself first. You need to understand what you truly want, independent of anyone else. Can you be happy on your own? Can you forgive yourself for the choices you’ve made?

Maybe all you need is to forgive yourslef and him.

The questions swirl in your mind, and you know that the answers won’t come easily. But one thing is clear: you owe it to yourself to face the truth.

Maybe it’s time to take a step back and reflect on what you need, not just what you want. You need to find your own happiness, to reclaim your identity outside of Jungkook and the love you once shared.

And yet, as you think about him, a flicker of hope ignites within you. Perhaps there’s a way to navigate this complicated landscape, to find a balance between your past and your present. Maybe, just maybe, you can rediscover the love you once had, but this time with a clearer understanding of who you are and what you truly want. But the hope is only a maere flicker of light. not enough to brighten the darkenss you've been swallowed into.

“i don’t think can.” You cry on Rosie’s lap as she pets your hair. She just listens.

“And you don’t have to.”

You sob.

“why did he have to come back.” You’ve been this confused in a while. During the years you were sure you hated jungkook. But now you realize you were just sad. Why did he have to come back into your life and why did he have to kiss you.

“you don’t have to get back with him.” She repeats.

“ I know. But why do i want to but not want to again.”

“it’s because you’re just a little hopeful.” You are aren’t you? “is that so bad.”

Rosie shakes her head when your teary eyes look up at her. “nope. He was the love of your life. Your freaking first one.”

“But it’s time to grow up.”

Even if you did work it out, how the hell would you marry him again. Would you even get as far as to marrying again. You'd hate to get back together only to fail again.

How would you face his parents. And what if they still hate you. How would you go on.

It really is time to grow up.

“Thanks for coming.” You smile.

"No problem.” He pulls out his chair, the sound of it scraping against the floor echoing.

you planned on having a simple conversation in a cafe. which makes it easier for both of you to leave if things get awkward.

“Honestly, I never expected you to reach out.” The words slip out,.

You had planned to ghost him, to just forget everything. But after talking to Rosie, she encouraged you to talk to him. To seek closure instead of running away. You'd be missing the point if you did ghost him.

“Just need to get some stuff off my chest.” You chuckle awkwardly, the air stiffens immediately after.

Jungkook’s eyes widen, his heart racing at the possible implication of your words.

Before you can gather your thoughts, he cuts in, “I just want to apologize for kissing you that night.”

You shake your head, nostalgia and discomfort washing over you. Why does the memory of that moment feel weird now? “You don’t have to. I wanted it too.” you can't help but feel guilty for it. “Um, I just wanted to clear something up about that too.”

“I feel like I told you something I shouldn’t have that night.” His brow furrows in confusion, and you can see the gears turning in his mind. “I won’t lie; I did miss the feeling, but it also felt like a lie.”

He taps his fingers nervously on his thigh.

“What do you mean?” he asks, voice only able to ask questions

“I mean, there’s nothing here.” You gesture between the two of you. “I appreciate your apology, but it doesn’t change much.”

You avoid his gaze, but his eyes remain locked on yours.

“I’m still hurt, honestly.” When your eyes finally meet his, you can barely seem to read them. If he could hold you, you know he would. “And we’d be lying to each other if we said things could be fixed just like that.”

It feels like a death sentence, and you’re the judge. Sentencing him to his fate.

He sighs, not able to form any thoughts. “I understand.” He does, but the understanding comes with a hurt.

“Because at the end of the day, I’d have to meet your parents again, and I’m sure they wouldn’t love me overnight.” Your chuckle is sweet but bitter. “I don’t want to put myself in that position again.”

He inhales sharply, the air thick with regrets. He’s always been prepared to face judgment, but this—this is a different kind. “I’m sorry that they hurt you so much. And that I did too.”

“I know you are.” You want to rush through this, to just get over with it. “I just wanted to clear things up and make sure we’re on the same page.”

Neither of you bothers to order anything; the thought of food feels heavy and unappetizing.

“Yeah, we definitely are.” He laughs, but the sound is sorrowful.

He knew it all along. There’s only so far, the universe can go for him.

It seems Taehyung was wrong; the universe didn’t bring you together to get back together but to part ways on a better note. The hatred and disdain that once was your relationship have only served to hurt you both.

“Let’s end things on a good note this time, Jungkook.” Your voice is soft, almost a whisper.

Meeting you again has him understanding what he once didn't realize, the mistakes he made, and now he seeks to apologize for them. There are so many “I wish” statements he could say, but isn’t about that. Sometimes, it’s simply just too late.

It’s a reality he has to face now.

“Maybe that’s all we needed,” he jokes, but the laughter feels uncomfortable.

You chuckle lightly, “I guess so.” You can feel the tension in your chest begin to ease, the heaviness lifting just a little. His presence, once a source of turmoil, now feels more tolerable, like a bittersweet memory you can finally face.

"I won’t lie; I’ll have to miss you all over again." His smile is simple.

As you slide out of your seat, he stands too, and the world around you fade into the background. It’s only when you reach his car that you find the courage to pull him into a hug. His warm arms wrap around you, and the familiar scent of his cologne pulls you in like a comforting blanket.

"I’ll always love you; you know." His voice is muffled against your coat, and the words hang in the cold air.

"Jungkook, don’t do that to yourself." You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, but he squeezes you tighter, afraid to let go.

Maybe he crossed a line he shouldn’t have. Maybe if he hadn’t followed you up to your apartment that night, if he hadn’t kissed you, if he hadn’t over-apologized—

“Don’t overthink it,” you whisper, trying to soothe his possible thoughts.

“It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault, okay?” You try to keep a smile on your face. “Be glad we got to redo this and at least not hate each other anymore.”

“That’s if you don’t hate me.” You flash him a teasing smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

he smiles too.

“I actually do hate you,” he jokes.

“I hate you too."

A/N: it is what it is. PAAAAAIN.

632 notes · View notes

gothcsz · 3 months ago

Text

Summary: Another chaotic shoot... but at least it's in Malibu?

Tags: more plot keeps sneaking into the porn, angst, frankie has entered the villa, jealous!javi, reader stands on business, it's a porn set other people are also fucking, masturbation on camera (m), dirty talk, lots of cursing (f bombs my beloved), an attempt at a blowjob, javier can't get it up, a dash of misogyny, author projects her ooc thoughts about problematic age gaps in the porn industry, no use of y/n, reader has a degree in film production, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: me nervous that part 3 isn't going to live up to the hype? more likely than you think! 🙂‍↕️ this fic is taking on a brain of its own and i'm just along for the ride, baby! for my just the tip stans— i'm sorry but i'm going to have to edge you until part 4 *crowd boos and i'm dragged off stage* i was going to wait to post this, but i really wanted to get it out because i'm so damn proud of it lowkey, lol, so i hope you all like it 🖤 let a bitch know what ya think! also, shoutout to my pookie @persephone-girl for reading over this 💋 love u mamas

Your phone’s shrill ring pierces through the haze of sleep, and you groan in frustration, burying your face deeper into the pillow.

The comforter is pulled tight over your head, shielding you from the annoyingly bright sunlight filtering through your window. Your hand shoots out, fumbling blindly across the bedside table until your fingers finally close around the receiver.

“What?” you grumble, voice thick with sleep and muffled beneath your sheets.

“There she is! My beautiful, talented camerawoman. Have I ever told you how much I appreciate what you do?” Robbie’s overly cheerful voice blares through the phone, so you pull it back from your ear slightly, wincing.

“Why are you calling me this early in the morning?” you snap, already regretting picking up.

“Early? It’s almost noon—”

“What do you want, Robbie?” You cut him off, not in the mood for small talk, especially since last night’s bar shift ran past four in the morning. You were hoping to sleep through most of the day, recovering in your bed with no interruptions. Clearly, that plan has gone out the window.

“Look, I’ve got a big shoot happening in Malibu today and I’m short-staffed. I could really use your magic touch behind the camera.”

“No.”

“C’mon,” he drags the word out, “I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for working on your day off.”

You rub your eyes, the remnants of sleep still clinging to you. “How much?”

He tosses out a number, and despite your best effort to remain indifferent, your eyes widen. Damn. That’s more than decent money.

“Malibu’s all the way across town,” you point out, “I won’t make it there in time if I take the bus. And a taxi? That’ll cost me a fortune.”

“Don’t worry about that. Your ride’s outside waiting for you.”

You blink, confused, and get out of bed, dragging the corded phone with you as you move toward the bay window. You pull the curtain back just enough to peer down at the busy street below.

Sure enough, Steve is there, leaning casually against his Jeep with sunglasses on, a cigarette between his lips. The second he spots you looking down, he grins like the cheshire cat and waves.

“Seriously?” you mutter to Robbie, flipping Steve off with a half-hearted smile. “And what if I’d said no?”

“We both know you wouldn’t have.”

After a few more quick exchanges, you hang up, glancing once more at your ride through the window before turning to rush and get yourself ready for the day ahead.

Truth be told, you’re still not fully awake, your body moving on autopilot as you shuffle through your morning (midday) routine.

It’s been ages since you’ve been to the beach— especially one as nice as Malibu’s. The thought of it softens the blow of losing your rest day. You tell yourself you’ll make the best of it, turning this unexpected workday into something that benefits you, too.

After shooting wraps, you’ll indulge in a quiet evening by the shore, sinking your toes into the warm sand with a good book in hand. No rush to head back. This time, you’ll gladly take a taxi if it means getting some peace seaside.

With that plan in mind, you dress for the day accordingly. Your halter-style bathing suit doubles as a cute top, the color complimenting your skin, while your favorite denim shorts sit comfortably over your bikini bottoms.

You pack a few essentials into your beach bag and make sure to grab your camera bag as well. Once you’ve double-checked that everything’s packed, you make your way downstairs, feeling a bit more awake now.

Steve catches sight of you approaching and flashes a dramatic grin, straightening up like he’s about to chauffeur royalty.

“Your chariot awaits,” he announces with an exaggerated flourish, swinging the passenger door open.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the bemused laugh that escapes your lips. “God, you’re ridiculous,” you mutter, shaking your head as you climb into the seat, tossing your beach bag onto the floor.

He shuts the door behind you with a smirk. “Ridiculous? I prefer charmingly dedicated to my craft.” He hops into the driver’s side, flicking the cigarette away before starting the car.

You snort at his self-satisfaction, leaning back against the seat and putting on the seatbelt.

“Malibu, huh? How the fuck did he manage to swing that?”

He chuckles, one hand lazily draped over the wheel, the other tapping out a rhythm on his knee. “He didn’t tell me much either— just asked me to stop by and pick you up on my way.”

That makes sense. Robbie’s always been a bit scatterbrained, occasionally running around like he’s managing a multi-million-dollar empire when, in reality, he’s holding it together with duct tape and half-assed enthusiasm.

The drive is surprisingly fun, Steve’s constant jokes keeping your spirits high. He always manages to make you laugh, which is why you tolerate his quirks.

“I’m pretty sure Javi’s going to be there,” he says, almost too nonchalantly, meaning he’s in the mood to be messy.

You keep your gaze focused on the coastline, watching as palm trees blur past. The wind from the open windows has you squinting momentarily, but it can’t cool the sudden heat spreading through your body.

“It’s not going to be weird seeing him, right?” He presses and you finally turn to face him, moving your sunglasses to the top of your head.

“Why would it be weird?” you ask, the challenge clear in your voice.

He shoots you a look, brows raised and lips quirked in that irritating way of his. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe ‘cause of the whole flirtin’ with you during the middle of a scene thing? Or, y’know, the elevator incident… which, by the way, what the fuck even happened there?” He glances at you, curiosity practically oozing out of him.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, but you can’t stop the way your thighs rub together at the memory.

Javier’s mouth... God. “None of your damn business.”

“Don’t tell me you fucked him.”

You laugh, loudly, the sound bordering on forced. “Absolutely not.”

He shoots you that okay, sure look, and you groan internally.

Steve’s like a dog with a bone when he gets curious, and you know he’s not going to let this go until you give him something. You sigh, deciding to indulge him— partially.

“He was being an asshole,” you start, and he immediately interjects with, “Nothing new there,” causing both of you to share a laugh at Javier’s expense.

You shake your head, returning your sunglasses to the bridge of your nose. “No, seriously. He was pushing my buttons, being his usual peacock self. I don’t even know how it escalated, but one moment we’re arguing, and the next... he’s got his tongue in my pussy.”

Steve chokes on his own spit at your bluntness. He’s heard and seen much worse on set, yet your confession has him all tripped up.

“So, you did fuck him?”

You roll your eyes again, shifting in your seat as the horny flashbacks hit you all at once— Javier’s lips wrapped around your clit, the perfect rhythm of his tongue, his fingers.

You shove those thoughts away, focusing on the road ahead, annoyed at both Javier and Steve now. “Getting head isn’t fucking. It’s, like, third base. And anyway, I made it clear— that’s all he was getting from me. I’m not about to waste my time rolling around in bed with him.”

He gives you a look— a knowing look— and you scoff, shaking your head. “What now?”

“Nothing. You’re just the first person I’ve heard say that about him.”

“Someone’s gotta humble his ass,” you mutter, though the words feel heavier than they should. You try to act like you’ve put Javier out of your mind, like that moment was nothing but a blip in your life, but deep down, you know it’s not that simple.

You’ve never met anyone like him, and the fact that he can elicit such reactions from you pisses you off so bad.

As the coastline stretches out in front of you, Malibu drawing closer with every mile, you can’t help but wonder if seeing Javier today will be as easy as you’re pretending it will be.

The mansion is far more extravagant than anything you could have imagined. Its grand facade, with towering columns and ivy crawling up the sides, feels like something out of a movie set, and for a second, you almost forget why you’re here.

But then, as soon as you step past the threshold, you hear it— echoing from deep within the house are the unmistakable sounds of exaggerated moans, grunts, and the rhythmic thump of bodies meeting.

You adjust the strap of your camera bag on your shoulder, your beach bag abandoned in Steve’s car. As you step further into the foyer, Robbie appears, that infamous smirk plastered on his face.

“Long way from home, aren’t you, Dorothy?” he jokes, taking in your wide-eyed amusement as you scan the expensive decor— the towering glass chandelier overhead, the marble floors gleaming beneath your feet, the floor-to-ceiling windows.

You can’t help but be a little impressed.

But of course, he’s there to give you shit about it. You turn your wide-eyed gaze into a glare, bringing your attention to him. “So funny. You should quit your current sleazy day job and take up another sleazy one— stand up,” you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He just grins, unbothered by your sharp tone. “You’re always a joy to work with. No wonder Javi asked for you specifically.”

Your entire demeanor shifts viscerally and you curse yourself for it mentally, caught completely off guard. “Wait, what? Javier asked for me?”

He shrugs, indifferent to your confusion. “Yeah. He’s set for a solo shoot upstairs in one of the bathrooms before he’s on with...” He snaps his fingers, trying to remember. “...Mariella. Real pretty girl, it’s her first on-camera gig today.”

The world blurs a little as your mind zeroes in on that one bit of information: Javier asked for you. And not just for any shoot— a solo one. You blink, shaking your head to clear the fog. “I’m sorry, can we go back to the part where I was summoned here by someone who isn’t my boss?”

“Oh yeah, he made a real fuss about it. Sent away the other guy we had lined up for the shoot. Told me he wouldn’t do it unless you were behind the camera. Even offered to pay out of his own pocket just to get you here. It’s the only reason we’re paying you as much as I promised over the phone.”

Your stomach twists and you can feel your face settling into a deep frown, the kind that pulls some of your mood down with it. So that’s why he dangled such a big paycheck in front of you this morning.

After the elevator incident (as Steve has so eloquently named it), after the intense heat of his mouth on you, the way he had you— he said he’d leave you alone. He was supposed to respect the boundaries you set, but here he is, yanking you back into his orbit.

You can already picture him upstairs, lounging in one of those stupidly lavish bathrooms, probably smirking that damn smirk of his, waiting for you.

You try to squash down the way your pulse quickens at the thought, the lingering memory of his fingers digging into your hips, his tongue working between your thighs, is beckoning you into temptation again.

“Fucking great,” you mutter, more to yourself than your boss. You have half a mind to storm up those stairs, find the pornstar, and give him a piece of your mind before marching right back out to spend your day on the beach— free of drama and distractions and him.

But the reality is, you’re being paid nearly three times what you’d normally make on a gig like this. It’s enough to drown out the temptation to walk away, however satisfying that would be.

You’re an adult. You’ve dealt with worse. You can handle this.

Robbie gives you a sidelong glance, clearly sensing your hesitation. “You’re not backing out, are you?”

With a sigh, you force a smile and shake your head. “As good as it’d feel to leave, no, I’m not. I’ll be up in a sec.”

Relief flashes across his face, and he gives you a few pointers before rushing off into this maze of a house.

You linger for a second longer, taking a deep breath to shake off the nerves. Come on. Get it together. After a final mental pep talk, you head toward the grand staircase that winds up to the second floor.

The sight that greets you at the top of the stairs stops you in your tracks: Lexxie is splayed out on her back atop some console table, currently getting the life fucked out of her. The visual is chaotic but nothing new. You’ve seen it a hundred times before.

A guy with a scruffy beard and a beat-up baseball cap stands behind the camera, looking more bored than impressed, barely watching as the two stars go at it.

You lean against the nearby railing, your voice cutting through their heavy breaths and grunts. “Guess your marriage to Javier didn’t last very long,” you tease from off camera, referencing the honeymoon shoot.

The star’s eyes snap open at the sound of your voice, and she flashes you a playful, almost sweet smile in between heavy breaths. “Kinda regretting stepping out on him—oh, fuck.” Her snappy comeback dissolves into a breathy moan as the guy currently rearranging her on the table pushes her legs up to her chest, hitting just the right spot.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your shot,” you say, throwing a glance at the cameraman, knowing how annoying it can be when someone messes with your focus.

He waves it off with a lazy shrug. “It’s not ruined. Honestly, I would’ve quit filming ten minutes ago. It’s starting to drag. I’m impressed they’re still going.”

You let out a small laugh, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, they’ve got stamina like you wouldn’t believe. Makes me feel lazy in bed sometimes, but then I remember how unrealistic this shit actually is.”

He chuckles, scratching at his jaw. “Should make it an Olympic sport. Bet we’d bring home gold.”

“Pretty sure that already exists and it happens in the Olympic Village.” You smirk, finally peeling your eyes away from the couple to look at him properly.

He’s cute in that disheveled, stray-dog kind of way. His curls poke out from under a worn baseball cap, his beard patchy, and his clothes rumpled, like he just rolled out of bed and threw on the first thing he could find. He fits in perfectly with the kind of guys you’d expect on a porn crew.

Earning a genuine laugh from him, he extends a hand. “I’m Frankie.”

You shake it, offering your name in return. “I’m also part of the crew. About to go shoot a scene in the master bathroom.” You explain, noticing how his grip lingers just a little, his smile playful and easy. You feel a bit of warmth rush to your cheeks, and he’s about to say something when—

“Oh fuck, I’m about to cum!” Lexxie’s voice is piercing, loud and breathless, pulling your attention back to the scene.

You shake your head, stifling a laugh. “Well, that’s my cue,” you mutter, stepping out before you get too caught up flirting with him.

“Nice meeting you,” he says before dismounting the camera, moving in closer to capture the so-called money shot.

Cute. Too cute. It’s almost enough to make you forget about the man you’re about to see.

You push open the door to the room Javier’s in, and the sight of him has you doing a double take.

He’s standing in the middle of the room with nothing but a white towel hanging dangerously low on his hips, his defined Adonis belt drawing your eyes in a way you hate to admit.

His toned, brown torso glistens with the thinnest layer of sweat, the sunlight pouring into the room making him look like he’s glowing.

You need to toughen up, and in order to do so, you have to bitch at him. It’s the only way to keep that lustful cavewoman instinct away.

“You’re a piece of work,” is what you settle on, making sure to let your tone really punctuate how annoyed you are by the stunt he pulled today.

The second his eyes lock onto yours, amusement flickers behind them, as if he’s been waiting for this confrontation.

He quirks a brow, lips curving into a lazy smile. “¿De que hablas nena—?”

“What happened to ‘if you don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave you alone’? Was that something you said just to lower my guard? To get me to give you what you want?” You cut him off, keeping your distance even as you notice him inching closer.

Your eyes are daggers as they bore into him, and for a brief second, you hope he feels at least some of the fire burning in your chest. But if he’s affected, he doesn’t show it. He is frustratingly calm, like he’s above it all.

“You gave me no indication that you didn’t want me anymore.” His voice is casual, almost patronizing.

You groan as you throw your hands up in exasperation. “I literally said, ‘Hope you got your fix because it’s never happening again.’ What the fuck else do I have to say or do to get you off my back?”

Silence settles between you two as you stand there staring each other down. He’s unreadable, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin tingle.

“Well?” you demand, impatient.

“In my defense— it didn’t sound very convincing.” You stare at him incredulously before turning on your heel. Hell no. He can keep his money and his bullshit. You’re not doing this.

But just as your fingers graze the doorknob, his voice sharpens with a hint of panic, calling your name.

“Wait, look,” he starts, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not trying to start anything. I just thought—” he pauses, searching for the right words. “I’d feel more comfortable if you were behind the camera during this shoot. Not the other guy Robbie brought in.”

Frankie? He seems so harmless, and besides, Javier’s never had an issue with whoever’s in the room when he’s filming, so why is it a problem now?

However, his tone does sound sincere. You turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes and refusing to let your guard down. “This better not be another one of your tricks, Javier. If you’re doing this to try and get into my pants—”

He almost grins, but catches himself just in time, clearly biting back a remark. You can see it in the way his mouth twitches, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. Already have, his brown eyes seem to say. But he holds his tongue, offering a faint nod instead.

“I promise. No tricks. Just a professional shoot. That’s it.”

You give him one last warning glance before sighing. “Fine. But I’m telling you, Javier—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupts, holding up his hands. “I get it and please stop calling me Javier.”

You arch a brow. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but everyone calls me Javi.”

Ugh, whatever. “Okay, fine, Javi. Just show me where I’m supposed to set up.”

He bites back another grin and motions you with a flick of his head, and with the weird tension simmering, you follow him toward the ensuite bathroom. The door creaks open, revealing an elaborate setup, and you pause in the doorway, eyes widening.

It’s surprisingly... beautiful.

In front of a massive window that overlooks the sprawling blue ocean outside, there’s a porcelain clawfoot bathtub filled with what looks like a milk bath. Various colored flower petals float delicately on the surface, scattered in an almost artful arrangement.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Well, damn. This actually looks nice.” This bathroom is bigger than your entire apartment.

Javier notices your reaction and leans against the doorframe to the connecting walk in closet, arms crossed over his bare chest, a smirk playing on his lips. “Catering to the female gaze,” he says with a cocky shrug, “At least, that’s what my agent told me. Seems like I’m very popular among the ladies.”

The way he says it makes you want to smack him upside the head. He’s pushing your buttons again in the most subtle way, and you hate how good he is at it.

“Cute,” you reply dryly, walking past him to set your camera bag down on the large counter.

As you begin to unpack and set up, you can feel his eyes on you, watching your every move, lingering on the exposed skin of your back then dripping down to your legs.

It kind of feels good to have him ogling you like this. The whole look but don’t touch thing is really doing it for you, more than you’d care to admit. There’s a certain power in keeping him wanting, yet also forcing the distance.

“It’s not just about the ladies, you know. I actually want this to be good. I trust you to make it look that way.”

You glance over at him. His playful arrogance has slightly faded, shaded in by the genuine want to make this feel more than just some raunchy scene.

“I’m not a director, I just film it,” you remind him, adjusting the camera lens as you try to play it off. “So just do whatever you think is right. Robbie gave me some pointers, but it wasn’t much.”

“Still,” he presses, “there’s some finesse to what you do.”

At least he’s aware of that. “Let’s just get this over with,” you say, deflecting the compliment.

You finish setting up the camera, adjusting the tripod to get the perfect angle. It’s important to capture the full picturesque scene to begin with— the soft light spilling in through the window, the sparkling blue ocean in the background.

You clear your throat, “Okay, I’m all set for whenever you’re ready.”

Javier moves casually as he unwraps the white towel from around his waist. His cock, already half-hard, demands your attention, but you force yourself to look away. You rub your lips together then lick at them unconsciously, trying to focus on anything other than his naked body.

“Got plans after this?” he asks as though he’s asking you about the weather.

You blink at the normalcy of the question “Just going to hang out by the beach,” you reply plainly, trying to keep your focus on the camera and not on his crotch.

It almost feels strange talking to him like this, without the usual teasing or sexual tension-laden bickering.

“Sounds fun,” he says as he steps into the tub, the water sloshing around him. “Real nice out here. The weather is perfect for it today.”

You watch as he settles in, the milky water rising around his body, and for a moment, you’re completely mesmerized.

The scene in front of you looks like something out of a romantic painting, and it hits you how undeniably beautiful he looks. His skin, a warm golden brown, contrasts perfectly with the creamy white of the bath, and the colorful flower petals floating on the surface make the whole thing look like a dream.

He leans back, the water just kissing his chest, and you catch yourself imagining what a soft, hazy vignette filter would do to the shot, how it would add an enchanting glow to an already intimate scene.

You shake your head slightly, snapping yourself out of the reverie. You’re supposed to be filming him jerking off, not admiring the aesthetics like this is some fine art shoot. But fuck, it’s hard to separate the two when the visuals are this damn good.

Javier, of course, senses your brief distraction. He watches you, eyes thoughtful as he stretches out, letting the water ripple around him. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a slight smirk playing on his lips, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You take a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand, despite the heat pooling between your thighs. “Is there a clear direction for this scene, or are you just improvising?”

“I’m just winging it,” his voice is a rich, velvet drawl, a little rough from all the smoking he does. “No dirty talk. They want my natural noises to be the main focus… amongst other things.” He cocks his head to the side, one arm coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

Heat blooms low in your belly, shooting straight to your cunt at the sight. The way his bicep flexes, the muscles shifting smoothly beneath that taut, sun-kissed skin, showcasing just how defined he is while still looking so maddeningly soft.

Calm down, girl, you silently reprimand your pussy. She’s fucking purring right now.

You clear your throat and give him a nod, signaling him to begin. Stepping behind the camera, you focus through the lens, grateful for the distance.

Javier moves slowly. His head tips back against the edge of the tub, eyes falling closed, the soft curve of his lashes fanning out like shadows against his skin. One hand trails down, lingering at the hollow of his collarbones. The movements are unhurried, almost reverent, as though he’s savoring the feel of his own skin.

The intimate build-up draws you in, despite your best efforts to remain detached.

You unmount the camera from its tripod after a few moments, stepping closer to him, framing the shot tight around his chest, the slow glide of his hand along his torso. You can’t help but notice the pounding of your heart, each beat mirroring the steady, throbbing pulse at your clit.

The sight of him— relaxed, fully in his element, bathed in the soft glow of light— stirs that fucking feeling deep within you.

It’s not just desire, though that’s certainly there. It’s the maddening awareness of how sensual, how magnetic this man is. And even though you try to tell yourself you’d feel the same about any other attractive man in his place, you know that’d be a damn lie.

Javier’s hand moves lower, ghosting over the ridges of his soft stomach. His other hand trails slowly through the water, sending gentle ripples through the milky bath. You swallow hard and focus the lens on his face— the slight parting of his pouty pink lips beneath his trimmed mustache that you just now realize has a small patch right above his cupid’s bow.

Even his imperfections are attractive.

The flushed skin of his cock makes an appearance, his thick, swollen head breaking the surface of the water with each subtle movement, teasing you and the camera. The way it peeks through, the slick tip glistening in the milky bath, almost feels like a taunt— winking at you.

Doing as you’re supposed to, you adjust the lens to zoom in on the way his cock flirts with the surface.

If you were anyone else, one of his usual co-stars maybe, you’d lean down and give it a few kitten licks. You’d tease the sensitive crown with your tongue, circling the tip before letting it slide past your lips— just enough to drive him wild.

Your tongue twitches at the thought.

A soft groan escapes his lips as he gets closer to where he’s aching to touch. It’s as if he can read your mind, as if he knows you’re imagining the feel of his cock in your mouth, the taste of his salty skin, the way he’d twitch against your tongue as you tease him until he begs for more.

Maybe he’s picturing your lips wrapped around him, too.

You bite down on your lower lip, forcing yourself to stay quiet, to stay focused, even though your body is betraying you. The mess in your panties, the way your nipples stiffen beneath your bathing suit top— everything about this moment is dangerous.

Then finally, his fist wraps around his cock, a soft slosh of water accompanying the motion. The eroticism of the scene— paired with the proximity, the memory of those hands on you— ignites that annoying need deep inside.

He strokes himself slowly, eyes still closed as though lost in the pleasure of it all. You focus the camera on his hand, on the way it moves with purpose, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock, slick with precum.

His groans start to fill the air, and your own body reacts, hips shifting slightly as you try to ignore pressure at your cunt.

“Still with me?” His voice cuts through the silence, raspy and knowing, eyes fluttering open to look at you.

Oh. Have they always been this golden?

“Yeah,” you’re proud of yourself for keeping your voice steady.

Javier’s body is pure, unfiltered sin in motion. As you move around the bathtub to capture every angle, you can’t help but admire him. His muscles shift with every slow pump of his hand, the sinewy lines of his arms and torso rippling just beneath the milky water.

His stomach contracts with each exhale, drawing your gaze lower to the faint trail of hair leading down to his cock, which you catch glimpses of when his hips buck up inadvertently.

His breathing grows heavier, his pouty bottom lip caught between his teeth, brows furrowing in concentration as his pleasure builds. It’s mesmerizing, the way his face contorts, his expressions almost too intimate, too personal for the lens. But you can’t tear your eyes— or the camera— away.

His fist moves with such confidence, touching himself with an unhurried rhythm that only a man used to his own pleasure can manage. Every time his thumb glides over the tip of his cock, a heavier grunt rumbles in his throat and it’s so hot.

You’re too focused on capturing every inch of him that it almost catches you off guard when he begins to speak.

“Wish it was your pretty hand around me right now, baby.” His voice is husky, laced with want, and the words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You blink rapidly, heart stalling in your chest as the camera wavers slightly in your hands. “Javier,” you sigh, his name slipping from your lips before you can stop yourself.

“Fuck, I know, but shit—” His words are more ragged now, spoken between heavy breaths. “You’re all I can think about still. You stay in my mind, muñeca. Can’t get you out.”

Even though every rational part of you knows you should stop him, should leave or at least say something to shut him up, you don’t.

You don’t run, you don’t protest. You just... let it happen.

“Talk to me, please.”

“I-I—” The words get stuck in your throat, “I can’t. I’ll ruin the shoot.” Why is that your priority right now?

“You won’t.”

The way he says it chips at the walls you've built around yourself.

“What do I even say?”

“Anything,” there he goes again, using that tone that makes him sound like he’s begging.

So, you say what you’ve been thinking of since he got into this damn tub. “Your cock is so pretty, Javi.” You purr, throwing all caution to the wind, lying to yourself that this means nothing.

The effect is immediate. He groans, a deep sound from his chest, and his hand moves faster over his shaft, the slickness of the water amplifying the movement. “Fuck,” he says, his breathing now erratic, “say it again.”

Your gaze flicks down and it’s mesmerizing watching the way his body responds to his own touch, but it’s the fact that he’s unraveling in front of you that leaves your mouth dry.

“Such a pretty cock, Javi,” you repeat, voice steadier this time, growing bolder with each passing second. Every flex and contraction of his body feeds the arousal pulsing in you. “I bet it would feel perfect sliding down my throat, hitting the back of it until I’m choking on you.”

All those hours spent listening to cheesy porn dialogue are finally paying off.

His head falls back, exposing the strong column of his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. A guttural groan escapes him as the image of what you just said sets in. His other hand moves down to cup his heavy, swollen balls, the water around him rocking more violently now as he starts to lose himself in the fantasy.

“Shit… I’m close,” he growls, voice breaking with need, the words barely coherent. “Keep talking to me, fuck…”

You lean in slightly, the camera momentarily forgotten. “You want to come for me?” Your whisper is dripping with lust, the idea of him falling apart because of you making your pussy ache. “You want to make a mess? Pretend I’m kneeling right here, my mouth open and waiting for you to fill it, warm and wet just for you?”

You’ve seen him come so many times, watched him fill too many cunts with his spend and paint different parts of their pretty bodies— but none of it compares to the sight before you.

The way his body jerks in response tells you everything you need to know. His grip tightens on the edge of the tub, knuckles going white as he pumps faster, rougher, pushing himself toward the brink. His hips start lifting out of the water with every thrust into his own hand, chasing that final release.

“Fuck, yes…,” he groans, voice strangled, barely holding it together. His eyes squeeze shut, every muscle in his body tensing, going rigid as he falls over the edge.

His bilingual expletives cut off into a long, drawn-out moan as his cock twitches, thick ropes of cum spilling out in messy spurts, splattering against his fist, swirling into the milky bathwater. The petals float lazily across the surface, some clinging to his skin, as the evidence of his release drifts around him.

You stand there, heart pounding, frozen as your brain tries to catch up with your pussy.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, fumbling with the camera as you stop the recording. You quickly move to pack everything up and try your damndest not to look at him.

“Wait, don’t—” Javier’s voice is still hoarse, but there’s a touch of urgency to it now, breaking through the post-orgasm haze. You hear the water sloshing violently behind you as he moves, and you know he’s getting out of the tub. “Just… hang on.”

“No. I-I gotta go,” you stammer, your hands frantically packing up the camera, the lens cap slipping through your fingers. You try to grab it, but your nerves are shot and it fumbles. Thankfully, it doesn’t take damage. You’d hate to hear Robbie bitch at you for breaking the brand-new camera.

Just get out of here is the only thought running through your mind. Every time you’re around him lately, you end up a confused, horny, exasperated mess, and you can’t handle it anymore.

“Hey—wait!” Javier slips as he tries to step out of the tub, nearly falling as he reaches for you, his wet feet squeaking against the floor. You turn just in time to see him catch himself, water dripping from his body, his skin still flushed from what just happened.

“What the hell?” You shoot him a look, “You’re gonna break your neck trying to stop me from leaving—”

“I wasn’t—fuck, just let me talk for a second.” He runs a hand through his soaked hair, water dripping down his neck, over the curve of his shoulders, and you hate how even now, you’re distracted by how good he looks. He reaches for the towel and loosely wraps it around his waist. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Neither did I,” you snap, stuffing your gear into your bag, not caring how haphazardly it’s packed. “This— this isn’t what I signed up for. I’m here to work, remember? Not… whatever the fuck that was.”

He steps closer, reaching for your arm, but you yank it away before he can touch you. The last thing you need is his hands on you right now, reminding you of everything you shouldn’t want.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice softens, but there’s a frustration beneath it, like he’s grappling with the same confusion you are. “I wasn’t trying to mess with you, okay? I just… I don’t know what the hell is happening between us either.”

You stop, finally meeting his gaze. There’s something in his eyes that pulls at the part of you that’s freakishly tethered to him, but you can’t let that get to you now. Not when everything feels so damn complicated.

“Javier, this—” You struggle for words, shaking your head. “This can’t keep happening. I can’t—” You pause, your breath catching. I can’t have you. “I don’t want you,” you correct yourself.

His jaw clenches, muscles ticking under the strain. “Stop bullshitting me,” he growls, eyes narrowing.

“I’m not,” you shoot back, but it comes out too quickly, too rehearsed.

“You’re lying through your fuckin’ teeth, and it’s pathetic. What is so wrong with giving me a chance?” He keeps circling back to this— chances.

One thing about him, he knows how to trigger a fucking migraine.

“Everything!” The word bursts out of you like a confession. “Everything about this is wrong. It’s why I’ve been trying to stay away since day one, but you’re so— ugh!” You throw your hands up, exasperated, the bathroom suddenly feeling too small and claustrophobic. He’s got you spinning in circles, tying you up in knots, and you can’t think straight around him.

Without a second thought, you turn to leave, your feet moving as if you’re fucking levitating. So what if you’ve made a habit of running away from him? You don’t owe him shit.

“Nena—” Desperation laces his voice and that stupid nickname makes your skin curl. “I don’t want you to leave like this.”

“Well, too bad,” you snap over your shoulder. “I’m leaving so you can’t sweet-talk me into anything.” The slam of the door echoes behind you, a final punctuation to your statement.

As you step out into the hallway, the distant sounds of people fucking filter through the air, kind of grounding you back to the real world.

You can’t keep working with him, not if every interaction is going to end like this. You make a mental note to talk to Robbie after today’s shoot. No more Peña.

The day drags on, the tension from earlier still lingering, but now, sitting outside on the shaded patio, you feel a small reprieve.

A half-eaten sandwich rests before you on the table, your eyes lazily tracing the lines of the zero-edge pool that blends into the horizon. The soft rustle of palm trees swaying in the gentle breeze lulls you into a sense of temporary peace. You glance around, taking in the pristine luxury surrounding you. Rich people really have it made, you think, marveling at the extravagance of someone else’s life.

The spat with Javier lingers but you’ve done your best to ignore it by keeping busy. The other shoots happening in the house have kept you distracted, but you know what’s coming: the last scene of the day— with him— and the new girl, Mariella. A small sigh escapes your lips as you sink deeper into the patio chair, absolutely dreading it.

Your tranquility is shattered when you feel a presence nearby. Already anticipating another confrontation with Javier, you steel yourself and don’t even bother looking up before snapping, “Oh my god, can you just leave me alone—”

The words get jammed in your throat as your eyes land on Frankie, not Javier. He stands there, looking taken aback, a paper bag in one hand and an awkward smile tugging at his lips. You instantly feel like a bitch.

“Shit— sorry,” you stammer, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I thought you were someone else.”

Frankie lets out a small chuckle, brown eyes softening as he rubs the back of his neck. “No worries, I can leave if you want—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, waving him off. “Please, stay. I didn’t mean to be snappy.”

He hesitates for a moment before motioning to the empty chair across from you. “Mind if I sit?”

You shake your head, and he lowers himself into the seat, setting his lunch down. The small talk starts easily, flowing naturally as you both munch on your food. He tells you about his daughter, a proud smile on his face as he recounts how she’s the light of his life. Then he goes on about how his friends call him Catfish because of some dumb inside joke, and also the fact that he’s a retired pilot. It somehow doesn’t surprise you— the career fits him.

“How do you go from flying helicopters to shooting porn?” you ask, the question half serious, half teasing as you lean back in your chair, eyes hidden behind your sunglasses.

Frankie raises an eyebrow and smirks, clearly amused. “Shit happens,” he says with a shrug. “How do you go from having a film production degree to spending your days staring at tits and ass?”

A wry smile tugs at your lips. You tilt your head, pausing for effect. “... Shit happens,” you echo, the irony not lost on either of you.

He snorts, taking a slow sip of his water, the sound of his laughter rolling into the lazy afternoon air. You can’t help but steal a glance from behind your shades, your gaze wandering over his rugged features.

There’s something about the way the sun hits him just right, casting a golden glow over his tanned skin. You swallow, feeling a subtle pull in your chest, an unexpected attraction. He’s not flashy, not like the other guys you’re used to working with— there’s an unspoken confidence in his ease, a solidness that makes you want to keep looking.

“So… who’d you think I was? Just then?” He asks, adjusting his cap.

You try not to let your small smile falter. “Oh, just an annoying coworker.”

“Ah, the kind who shows up at the worst times, huh?”

“Exactly,” you reply with a laugh, “You know the type.”

Frankie leans in just slightly, lowering his voice. “Well, I’m glad I’m not that guy.” There’s a flicker of flirtation in his tone, his eyes lingering a beat too long. “But if you ever need someone to… keep him under control, you just let me know. Got the remedy for that right here.”

He exaggeratedly flexes his biceps, and the snug t-shirt he’s wearing pulls taut around his arms, highlighting their impressive size.

You can’t help but admire the view— he’s really fun to look at, all charming smiles and playful confidence.

“I might just take you up on that, actually,” you reply, matching his energy with a teasing smile of your own. “I could definitely use someone who knows how to handle things.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his pink lips. “I’m more than equipped for that, trust me.”

For a second, it feels like the two of you are in your own little world— until, of course, it comes crashing down.

A voice cuts through the moment like a knife. “We’re ready for the last scene.”

You turn to see Javier standing there, arms crossed, jaw tight, his gaze flicking between you and Frankie. His entire posture screams annoyance.

“And who are you?” Frankie retorts, squinting one eye against the harsh sunlight, playful defiance dancing in his tone.

Javier doesn’t seem to like that response at all. “I’m ready to get this shit done with,” he snaps, and you narrow your eyes, practically shooting daggers at him.

Frankie clears his throat, sizing up Javier’s bristling energy. “Right.”

You catch the word presumido slip from his lips— the Spanish insult that has you exhaling a light laugh through your nose, because he’s so spot on and he doesn’t even know it.

Both of you stand, Frankie gathering the remnants of your lunch. “If you’d like some company down by the beach later, I’ll still be around,” he adds smoothly, sliding the proposition in there as casually as if he were just suggesting grabbing coffee. You almost don’t mind him crashing your solo date.

“I’ll let you know,” you reply, pushing your chair in. “It would be great to not have to take the taxi back, but I was willing to do it for a nice afternoon by the water.” You can feel Javier’s possessive stare burning into you from across the way.

Frankie, absolutely unbothered, leans in closer, a charming grin on his face. “Here’s my number if you need that ride.” A pen appears out of nowhere, and he scribbles down his digits on a clean corner of his napkin, tearing it off with an effortless confidence before handing it to you.

“Definitely,” you say with a flirty smile, tucking the napkin into your pocket, feeling a thrill against the scowling presence of the spectator watching from the sliding glass door

Frankie branches off to use the restroom and you push past Javier, no intention of speaking to him until—

“If you spent less time flirting with the crew and more time focusing on your job, we’d be finished by now.”

You can practically taste his jealousy.

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him, your patience running thin. “Really, Javi? You’re jealous of Frankie? That’s what this is about? Did our last conversation not put shit in perspective for you?”

He steps closer, eyes hard, voice low. “Jealous? Of him?” He scoffs, but the tension in his jaw betrays him. “I just don’t appreciate having to wait because you’re too busy cozying up to someone else. Especially someone who looks like they just got picked up off the side of the road.”

“And you wonder why I don’t like you.” Is all you can say, brushing past him yet again, his presence looming heavy as you head toward the living room where the last scene is set to be shot.

The moment Robbie goes on with his usual pre-shoot rundown, your attention shifts to the newbie Mariella immediately, drowning out his usual spiel.

The girl— and she is a girl, no matter what the paperwork says— looks painfully young. Her cropped tee hugging her braless chest, barely keeping her breasts from spilling out, and those flimsy pajama shorts riding high on her thighs. It’s the kind of outfit that makes you uneasy— one you’ve seen too many times in this industry, designed to play into the fantasies of men who want their women to look barely legal.

You bite the inside of your cheek, the sour taste of frustration building in the back of your throat. This is the part of the job that gnaws at you— the undercurrent of exploitation that no one acknowledges.

You’re not naive, you know exactly what sells in porn. You know what these people want to watch, what they get off on. The younger, the better.

Still, it doesn’t make it any easier to stomach when you’re standing on set, watching it play out in real time.

Just as Mariella positions herself, preparing for the camera to roll, you can’t stop yourself. The words come out before you can think to censor them. “How old are you?”

Suddenly, everyone’s attention shifts to you. Robbie. Steve. Frankie. Even Javier, who’s lounging in the corner, waiting for his moment to shine. They all freeze, the casual banter dying off as your question lingers in the air. Mariella blinks, looking around as if unsure who you’re even talking to.

“I—I turned twenty last week.”

Your expression hardens, and the disapproval is written all over your face. “She’s not even old enough to drink, and you’re having her fuck Javier?” Your eyes cut to Robbie, who’s staring at you like you’ve just sprouted another head.

The silence stretches for a beat too long before he scoffs, shaking his head like you’re being ridiculous. “I don’t pay you to hear your opinions on shit,” he snaps, clearly irritated. “Just sit there and record the damn thing.”

Your eyes roll hard enough that it almost hurts. “You’re all a bunch of perverts.”

Poor Frankie catches a stray with that one. It’s like everything is grating on you in ways it usually doesn’t. Normally, you can shove it down and keep your head low because, at the end of the day, you’re just here for the paycheck.

“Perverts pay your bills, sweetheart,” Robbie throws back, all nonchalant. What’s worse is that he’s right.

Moments like this make you wonder how long you can keep doing this without losing a part of yourself in the process.

You look around at the other three men, none of them stepping up to say anything in your defense. Useless.

You shouldn’t be surprised, but it stings. Even Javier, usually quick with a sarcastic quip or biting comment, says nothing. He just sits there, stuffing out a cigarette that’s magically appeared between his lips.

It feels like a betrayal, even though you know better than to expect any different.

And Mariella? She’s clearly distracted, caught up in the magnetic pull Javier has over people. The way she’s looking at him with that starstruck, wide-eyed awe only makes it worse. You can see it in her expression, the way her gaze flickers over him like she’s already imagining how it’s going to feel when he fucks her. Thinking with her pussy instead of having common sense.

You recognize it because you were just in her exact position, drawn into that same orbit. You find empathy for her, but not the other motherfuckers.

The room descends into awkward silence, as if everyone’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you’re not in the mood for a full-blown argument, so you shut down, slumping into the chair behind your camera with your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

You know it’s only a matter of time before all these feelings you’ve been aggressively pushing down come back up and make you snap, but for now, you continue to force it all away.

You’re assigned to shoot the stoic, wide shots while Frankie’s in charge of the close-ups, and honestly? You’re relieved. The last thing you need is to be up close, watching this trash unfold.

The scene starts with the typical, raunchy premise: Dad pays babysitter with his cock! It explains Mariella’s barely-there outfit and the cluttered coffee table with school notebooks, setting the scene.

Then there’s Javier who looks the part too; dressed in dark blue slacks, a typical white collared shirt with a few buttons popped open to give that I’m stressed, come take care of me vibe.

He’s the picture of temptation, and it’s obvious Mariella’s already in the clouds.

The filming begins and they share that cheesy, erotic dialogue and lustful touches. You feel yourself sink further into the chair, silently counting down the minutes until you’re decompressing by the beach.

She sinks to her knees before him, her doe eyes looking up at him with that practiced innocence they all seem to perfect so quickly. She reaches for the buttons on his slacks, her delicate fingers fumbling just a little before she pulls down the zipper and tugs at the waistband. She nuzzles her face against his thigh, brushing her lips against his skin, and finally pulls out his cock. Even soft, it’s still an impressive size— but it’s definitely not how this was supposed to go.

“Well, are you going to suck it or just stare at it?” Javier snaps, his tone cutting through the air with an edge that feels too sharp, too real. It doesn’t sound like the crudeness that’s meant to spice up the scene.

His hand shoots out and tangles in her hair, yanking her closer. He’s rougher than usual, harsher, as he forces her mouth onto him.

She wraps her lips around his head, suckling softly at first, then taking him deeper into her mouth. She’s trying to do her job, playing the part of the eager babysitter, but something’s off.

Javier’s head tilts back, eyes squeezed shut, but it’s not the usual look of pleasure that crosses his face. It’s more like he’s concentrating, forcing himself to feel something that isn’t there.

You can’t help it— your eyes flick around the room, looking at the rest of the crew. No one seems to be noticing what you’re seeing, their eyes all honed in on the action in front of them.

But you’re catching the small details like you always do.

After a few more moments, it’s clear that it’s not happening. Javier lets out a frustrated curse, pulling out of her mouth with an audible, wet pop. “Fuck—just, give me a second,” he grumbles, stepping back. Mariella wipes the saliva from her lips with the back of her hand, looking up at him with a mix of confusion and hesitation.

You take that as your cue. Reaching over, you stop the recording, your finger hesitating on the button for only a moment before pressing it. Frankie does the same, Steve lowers his mic and pulls his headset off.

Javier runs a hand through his hair, his eyes darting to the floor, like he’s trying to avoid looking at anyone directly. “I just need a minute,” he says again, but it’s more to himself than to anyone else.

Your gaze lingers on him for a second longer than you intend, and your mind flashes back to earlier, to the way he was with you. The memory is sharp and clear, the contrast striking. He’d come undone for you without hesitation, without needing any coaxing or forcing. Just words. But now, with Mariella kneeling in front of him, offering herself up like a gift, he’s struggling.

“How long will this minute take? We gotta be outta here soon so get it up before I get one of these two to take your place.”

Javier scoffs, dismissive, “Tape wouldn’t fucking sell.”

“Well one featuring a soft dick won’t either,” comes the retort, and the two of them start their back-and-forth bickering.

You rub at your temples, trying to ease the pressure building behind your eyes. This has to be some weird-ass dream; it sure as hell feels like it. Maybe you’re still in bed, blissfully sleeping until three in the afternoon.

Javier storms off and Steve puts his equipment down. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Robbie just waves him away. “Take five,” he mutters to the rest of you, going in the opposite direction. This is such a mess, and poor Mariella remains on her knees, picking at her cuticles.

“Please get up and sit on the couch. You look pathetic,” you say to her, not cruelly but bluntly. It’s not her fault, but the sight of her there is making you itch. She complies like a chastised child.

Frankie drops down beside you, letting out a breath that mirrors your own. “These things usually go like this?” He takes his hat off, ruffling his hair before putting it back on.

“No,” shit has just been weird amongst this group for weeks now. “Burnout is inevitable, I guess.” You’re not about to sit there and shit-talk Javier, despite everything. You might have a mountain of complicated feelings when it comes to him, but you won’t kick him while he’s down.

Before Frankie can respond, Robbie comes barreling back into the room, his face flushed with anger. His eyes lock onto you, and you can see the accusation in them before he even opens his mouth.

“This is your fault,” he spits out, voice sharp, acidic. “All that shit you were talking earlier— now he’s fucking broken.”

You narrow your eyes, standing your ground. “Excuse me?” you snap, incredulous. “I was making a valid point. How the hell is it my fault that he grew a conscience?”

“Y’know,” he starts, his words dripping with the kind of vile, misogynistic shit that makes your blood boil. “You’d do me more good in front of the camera. Have somethin’ shoved up in there to keep you fucking quiet.”

The reaction is immediate. You shoot up from your seat so fast the chair scrapes against the floor, the sound sharp and angry, mirroring how you feel. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Frankie stands too, his face hardening as he takes a step in front of you, finally coming to your defense. “Watch it,” he warns, and it feels like the whole situation could explode into something much worse.

Robbie, of course, just sneers “What? You gonna defend her? She’s been a pain in my ass for weeks—”

“I’m done.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think them through, but they feel right.

You’re tired— so damn tired— of this whole mess. Of dealing with assholes like Robbie and Javier who think they can get away with saying whatever they want. “I quit.”

Your boss’s mouth opens as if he’s about to say something else, but you cut him off with a cutting glare. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to you treat me like shit because your precious Javier can’t get his dick hard. Go fuck yourself, Robbie.”

You don’t wait for a response. You turn on your heel and head for the door, your heart pounding in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You’ll double up on shifts at the bar or go back to waiting tables like you did throughout college. Whatever keeps you away from this bullshit.

As you stride down the hallway toward the entrance, you pass Javier and Steve. Javier’s face is stormy, brows knitted together as if he’s still reeling from whatever heated discussion they just had.

The moment he spots you, his expression shifts. There’s a flicker of surprise, maybe even concern.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks.

You yank the heavy, probably expensive for no reason, front door open, the sound echoing through the hallway. “I just quit,” you snap, voice sharp as glass. “See you never.”

🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @libre-sol . @cherrysugarx . @goodvibesonly421 .

finally started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out. muchas gracias mis putitas (gn) (endearingly) 🖤

#pedro pascal #javier pena smut #javier peña smut #javier pena fic #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfic #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña narcos #javier pena x you #javier peña x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic

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tpwk-formula1 · 3 months ago

Text

Kinktober Day 15 - Public Sex - OP81

Oscar Piastri X Reader

TW - Remote control vibrator in public,

Y/N POV

"Oscar, this is a terrible idea," I whisper to my long-term boyfriend while staring at the little remote-controlled vibrator he was trying to convince me to wear to the club tonight.

"No one will notice," He tells me back making me roll my eyes. We both knew damn well I was never one to be able to keep it down or even hide it on my face.

"Oscar, we are going out will several members of the grid tonight. I don't need to be cumming all over a Monaco club," I tell him back but we could both tell the idea of possibly being caught by someone was turning me on.

""I never said you would be cumming," Oscar replies back with a smirk making me clench my thighs together in anticipation.

"If it gets too much we stop right?" I double check making sure I still have a safe out if it all becomes too much.

"Always, baby," Oscar tells me back before giving me a quick kiss on the lips before assisting me to lie down.

Once I'm comfortably laid out on the bed Oscar picks up the little vibrator making me squirm slightly. I'm wearing the little red dress that showed off all my curves and no panties waiting until after Oscar had situated the vibrator.

"Baby girl, I can already see how wet you are," Oscar tells me with a smirk while running a couple fingers through my wet folds making me whine at the stimulation which is far from what I need right now.

I hear a faint click of the vibrator letting me know Oscar had turned it on and was conntecting it to his phone. Once everything is all set up I see the vibrator come to life making me squirm in anticipation.

"Hurry," I whine making Oscar chuckle at my neediness.

"Just a couple minutes ago you didn't even want to do this," Oscar says with a small smirk before bringing the vibrator to my clit where we teases me slightly. I can feel the vibrations but it is no where near enough stimulation to bring me to an orgasm and Oscar know that.

When I feel myself start to drip from how soaked I am, I can feel Oscar start poking around at my pussy before slipping the vibrator in and letting my greedy pussy suck it in the rest of the way.

Oscar's fingers follow shortly behind stuffing me even more full that I was previously. When I gasp from the vibrator hitting my G-spot Oscar slowly pulls his fingers out letting the vibrator rest right against the most sensitive part in my body.

I'm instantly panting wanting and needing more stimulation and right when I think I'm about to get it, Oscar completely shuts it off. I let out one of the most high pitched whine I have ever produced from my vocal cords making Oscar laugh at my desperation.

He softly slaps my thigh before telling me, "put some panties on and get yourself together, we're leaving in a couple minutes."

I have very little time to process the feeling of the vibrator rubbing right against my G-spot before Oscar helps me up and moves me along. I could already tell it was gonna be a long night because even right now walking feels strange and he hasn't even been toying with me yet.

"Better put on your best performance," Oscar whispers against my ear before placing a soft kiss on the cheek making sure I feel the smirk that's written all over his face.

"Be nice," I whisper back trying to give him the best puppy dog eyes which only has Oscar laughing back in a teasing manner only letting me know he in fact was not going to be nice.

"Sure," Oscar whispers before turning the vibrations on high making my knees buckle and moan out at the shock.

Just as fast as the vibrations started was how fast they were cut off. I take a few seconds to catch my breath before finishing getting ready.

We've been at the club for about an hour neither of us drinking tonight. Oscar had yet to turn the vibrator on which has my anxiety reaching the roof.

Just as I start to relax I feel a soft vibrator turn on making me gasp slightly. I hadn't even realized Oscar grabbed his phone, which is exactly what he wanted. He wanted to me to be shocked when he turned the vibrations on for the first time.

"Oscar," I whisper wanting him to cut them off or turn it up because I needed more.

"More," I whisper again when Oscar just looks at me. Thankfully Oscar listened and turned it up just slightly. While the stimulation was nowhere near enough to bring me close to an orgasm but it was enough to satisfy the itch.

Oscar gives me about a minute or so of stimulation before he cuts off the vibrations. I hold back my whine knowing if I let it out there was a good chance Lando would be able to hear it as he has finally joined the table with Oscar and I.

"Are you guys not drinking tonight?" Lando asked Oscar and I when he realized neither of us had drinks in front of us other than the water that had been waiting at the table when we arrived to the VIP section.

"No, we have plans earl-y morning" I start replying but stutter slightly when Oscar turns on the vibrations mid-sentence. Either Lando didn't notice the slight stutter or he chose to ignore it because he just nodded his head before taking another swig of the drink he had in his hands.

Oscar left the vibrations on during the whole duration of Lando sitting with us. As soon as Lando got up to rejoin some of the others on the dance floor Oscar cut off the vibrations making me gasp for air trying to calm my hot body down.

I only had a few seconds to calm myself down before the vibrations turned back on but substantially higher this time. I instantly start moaning softly while gripping Oscar's thigh to try and settle myself.

"Oscar," I moan barely audible for even Oscar to hear. He was impressed with how quietly I had managed to keep my volume. I felt the vibrations turn up again making me whine and the grip on his thigh tightened as I approached my orgasm. Oscar must have caught on because the vibrations were cut off making me whine a little louder at the loss of stimulation.

Oscar just chuckled next to me before placing his hand on my thigh and trailing it up higher where he slowly teases his fingers across my panty-covered pussy where he could almost instantly feel the heat radiating off my pussy. When his finger grazed my clit softly I gasp at the stimulation. Oscar knew how sensitive my clit gets when I'm this turned on.

I feel the vibrations turn back on while Oscar is still teasing my clit making my pussy clench around the vibrator making it sink harder into my G-spot making me whine and start to squirm slightly.

"I need to cum," I whisper to Oscar while trailing my hand up higher on his thigh. When I got to his crotch I felt just how hard he was but he didn't enjoy the teasing because the vibrations were turned up to the highest setting making me tighten my grip on his cock making him hiss at the rough contact.

I'm on the verge of cumming in the middle of the VIP section when Oscar cuts off the vibrations again making me throw my head back with a groan.

This continued for several more minutes of Oscar turning on the vibrator to the highest setting before turning it off right as I was about to fall over the edge.

"Go to the bathroom now," Oscar whispers in my ear making me whine before getting up slowly. Oscar turns the vibrator back on but at a much softer setting bringing me to the edge but not quite enough to cum.

I stumble slightly while making my way to the dark back corner where I slip into the single-person bathroom and wait for Oscar to join.

It wasn't even a minute later when I heard a soft knock ring out from the other side of the door and I opened the door just enough to let Oscar slip inside.

When he finally gets a good look at me in better lighting he can see my hair is slightly messier than it was when I left the house, my lips were parted with rapid panting slipping past them, and my thighs were clenched trying to get as much stimulation as possible.

"Turn around," Oscar tells me making me instantly turn around facing the mirror in front of the sink. I rest my hands on the counter bracing myself for whatever Oscar has up his sleeve.

I feel the vibrations turn up to the highest setting again making my knees buckle slightly falling into the counter more.

"Please, let me cum," I gasp out begging again.

"No," Oscar says while turning off the vibrations making me whine and start to turn around to yell at Oscar, but he quickly stops me by grabbing my hips and sending a slap down to my ass making sure I didn't turn around.

When I look up into the mirror I can see the lust swimming through Oscar's eyes letting me know that while he wasn't getting the same type of stimulation I was he was still getting just as, much pleasure as I was just from watching me.

Oscar slowly bends down on his knees behind me where I felt him slowly pull my panties to the side making me gasp when the cool air hits my wet pussy.

I can feel Oscar pulling at the little antenna sticking out of my pussy pulling the vibrator out with a slow and teasing pull. When the vibrator is fully out of my pussy I gasp and can feel my soaked hole trying to clench around nothing now that it was completely empty.

When I feel Oscar slip his fingers through my folds I instantly moan and push my hips down trying to get more stimulation. When Oscar's fingers graze my clit I instantly buckle my hips from how pleasurable the stimulation is even though it was such a light touch.

"Can I fuck you," Oscar whispers while still applying the pressure to my clit.

"Please," I whine pushing my hips towards Oscar again letting him know I was ready and how bad I needed it.

I feel Oscar place a few kisses on the back of my hips before he stands up and pulls my dress up leaving my bottom half almost completely bare for him.

When I hear Oscar's fly being zipped down I clench my thighs in anticipation of whats to come.

"You ready?" Oscar asks while teasing the tip of his dick through my folds making sure to focus on my clit. I can't form words so I whine out before nodding my head.

When Oscar slips into my pussy I instantly moan out loudly not being able to contain myself.

"So tight," Oscar grunts into the back of head making me clench down on his cock.

"fuck," I moan when I open my eyes and look into the mirror in front of us. I notice how Oscar has his head thrown back in pure pleasure making me whine and clench down on him.

When Oscar opens his eyes and looks into the mirror we making eye contact before his pace starts to pick up into a brutal and unforgiven roughness making me close my eyes and moan loudly.

"Eyes on me," Oscar grunts making me open my eyes and keep my eyes on Oscar through the mirror.

"I'm close, please," I whine when I feel my orgasm start approaching.

"Cum with me," Oscar groans out making me almost instantly start cumming all over Oscar's cock while I can feel him filling up my pussy with his cum. As we are both coming down from our high we are both startled by a lock punding on the door.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Are you horny fucks in there?" We hear Lando shout from the other side of the bathroom making us look at each other in the mirror before busting out laughing.

#formula 1 #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x you #formula 1 x you #formula one imagines #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri #formula one #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri smut #op81 #op81 imagine #op81 fic #op81 x reader #op81 smut #op81 x you #op81 x y/n

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dollfacefantasy · 11 months ago

Note

neglect kink with older leon???!!?!? like… you’re super horny whining and begging for his attention and he’s just. completely ignoring you. maybe he eventually lets you cockwarm him but he’s still ignoring you… the only way you know he’s enjoying this is because he’s still hard… no sounds or nothing. you’re so desperate for ANYTHING a kiss, a touch, literally any words at all but he’s just focused on his work!!! maybe daddy kink because everything needs daddy kink… maybe, like, you did something bad so this is your punishment… i don’t know… maybe he gives you the attention eventually or not!!!!

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: you've been bad, but you never seem to learn from spankings. leon has to try something new to remind you why you should be a good girl.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, cockwarming, masturbation, overstimulation, daddy kink, praise/degradation, age difference, dom/sub stuff (rules, punishment, etc.)

word count: 6.2k

a/n: you're so right, everything does need daddy kink <3 thank you for the request, love. i hope it's what you were wanting. i imagine post-DI leon for this so he's a bit older, but i just used DI for the pic. anyhow, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

Your deep breaths and soft whimpers had overtaken the quiet murmur of the tv in your bedroom. An old movie played on it, one you had seen time and time again. It no longer had your attention. Instead, you’re focusing on playing with the pulsing bud between your legs. Your fingers thrum back and forth over the sensitive spot, hips pushing down against the mattress as sparks fly in your belly.

Technically, you weren’t supposed to be doing this. It was one of the rules you agreed to when Leon had approached you with some things he wanted to try out for your sex life, just a small set of guidelines to play with. ‘No touching yourself without daddy’s permission' had been listed among others. He counted each one on his fingers as he did, and you nodded your head and looked up at him with your sweet set of eyes. The same set that now flutters with ecstasy as you played your forbidden game. But as long as he didn’t know, it was fine, right?

Your heels dig into the blankets beneath you while your breasts rise and sink with each inhale and exhale. You feel that hot sensation between your legs, the tightening cord, the boiling pleasure. You’re about to let it loose until you hear the front door open and shut, keys clatter on the table, and the familiar grunt Leon does when he slips his shoes off, using the tip of one on the heel of the other.

You nearly miss these little cues because of the rain clashing against your windows, but in a stroke of luck, you catch it all and tear your hand out of your shorts at light speed. Leon’s just walking into the bedroom as you drape the blanket over yourself. Shifting around a little to get comfy, you then gaze up at him, putting some tenderness into your eyes in hopes of throwing him off your scent.

As he gets closer, you take in his appearance. Little droplets of water on the shoulders of his jacket from the rain outside. Shiny hair fresh from the shower he took this morning, shaggy bangs hanging down into his face. Tired glaze over his eyes, work must not have been a walk in the park.

Once he approaches you, he raises his eyebrows, and for a second, you’re sure you’ve been found out. But all he does is sit next to you on the edge of the bed and run a hand over your head. His eyes fixate on you as if he’s studying your features. Your heart pounds, waiting to hear the words belt, over my knee, or sore & stinging leave his lips, but they don’t.

“Been having a nice day, baby?” he asks you, petting your head a few more times.

“Mhm,” you respond. Innocent enough.

“That’s good. What have you been doing?” he asks. Oh fuck.

“Um, just watching a movie,” you answer.

“Yeah? That all?” he continues. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Pretty much. It’s all rainy out. Don’t really feel like getting out of bed,” you say with a casual shrug.

He nods. It seems like an approving gesture, but you could swear there’s a little knowing glint in his eyes. Maybe that’s just your imagination. Hopefully, that’s just your imagination.

“Alright. I gotta go finish up some work for a while, just wanted to check on you first. Keep being a good girl for me,” he tells you. He gives you a small pat on the ass before getting up and walking out of the room as quickly as he had entered.

Your body relaxes, and your pulse descends to normal levels. Maybe you did pull it off. Heist of the century in your book. You settle in to truly just pay attention to the tv for now, but it’s not as simple as it should be when you’re still so pent up. You’d just breached the threshold of release, before you were torn out and back to reality. You could feel the slick that had gathered between your legs, the ache in your clit calling out to your fingers.

The thought of continuing does cross your mind. It would be so easy. Without any suspicion on you, all you would have to do is clamp a hand over your mouth and rub slower so the bed didn't creak. Plus, when he went in his office, he usually worked until the evening anyway. You could cum and be done with it before he had the slightest idea.

No, no, no. You told him you’d be a good girl. You wouldn’t wanna break daddy’s heart by being bad, right? No, you wanted to make him proud. You resign to wait until he wants to play with you. He always did; you can’t recall a night he left you wanting. So you lay on your side, eyes focused on the blue-tinted screen across the room, and keep it together.

But hours go by. And then more hours go by. You keep yourself occupied, marathoning nearly an entire franchise of movies, eating, going on your phone. But none of it fills the Leon-shaped void inside you.

This was the longest he’d ever been in that office. He never worked in there into the night. He always told you that he tried to spend as little time in there as possible. That’s time that could be spent with his good girl, that’s what he told you. Only you hadn’t been a good girl today.

You shake your head, and tell the stupid little voice inside to zip it. He seemed tired, remember? This is probably just an extension of that. He knew he’d have to come home and be in his office all day. It was all a coincidence, this whole thing. There was literally no way he could know what you’d been doing. But daddy knows you better than you know yourself.

Oh god. This was like some form of torture, you’re sure of it. Self-inflicted, or was it really? He was the one who’d made you this way. Whatever. Enough was enough. There was no reason to be paranoid. You could literally just go ask him. Sort this out and soothe your anxiety, so you can go back to waiting patiently like the good girl that you are.

Pushing the covers to the side, you slide out of bed and head down the hall to his office as thunder crackles outside. A gentle push on one of the French doors leads you into the room you rarely entered. Despite that, you liked it in here. Leon’s desk faced away from the door, towards the window that looked out onto the street. The curtains were drawn now, brown fringe overlapping with the spare cushions on the window seat below it. Some bookshelves lined the walls perpendicular to his desk, though you never had the time to actually check their contents.

You walk a few paces into the room. Your eyes cast over to him. He doesn’t even look like he’s doing much for someone working into the night, but who are you to judge? You step over a crinkle in the rug to stand in front of his desk. Your hands rest on the hardwood as you gaze at him over the monitor of his computer.

“Hi,” you say simply.

He nods. A movement so vague that he could’ve told you his head twitched, and you’d believe him.

“Whatcha doing?” you ask.

“Work.”

You stare at him for a moment. Sure, he wasn’t normally super chatty, but he also wasn’t usually so clipped. He knows.

“How’s it going?” you say.

You’re met with a shrug. You have to up your efforts.

Circling around his desk, you position yourself behind him and wrap your arms over his shoulders. You drag your nose against his cheek like an affectionate kitten and kiss the skin a few times.

“How much longer you gonna be in here?” you ask. Your voice remains gentle and undemanding.

“A while,” he grunts. The clacking of the keyboards starts up again, and his eyes remain locked on the documents in front of him.

“But you’ve been in here for hours,” you point out and feign a pout.

“And I’ll be in here for even more if you keep bothering me,” he says with a little gesture that wasn’t fully shrugging you off but at the same time was shrugging you off.

Ouch. Your pout was no longer feigned. You stand up straight and walk back to where you stood originally. He still doesn’t spare you even the smallest of glances.

“Can I stay in here with you?” you ask hesitantly.

“If you want to,” he says. Wow. Not that he wanted you to, no. If you wanted to. Sure, people could call you sensitive for being upset about that, you don’t care. You’re tempted to leave with a huff, slamming the door behind you, but now you’re even more curious if he was aware of your illicit afternoon activities. You kinda hope he is at this point because at least that would give a reason for his icy attitude.

You walk over to the one other chair in the room. Yeah, there was the window seat, but as pretty as you’d made it for him, decorating it with little throw pillows and cute coverings, it wasn’t very comfortable. You plop down on the corduroy cushioning of the beaten-up seat in the corner. with a sigh. Bringing your legs up over the armrest, you lean back against the opposite one and scan the room out of boredom. Your feet swing back and forth absentmindedly as you puff breaths of disinterest from between your lips.

You really try to give him time to finish, but it feels like he’s taking actual eternity. Also, it sounds like he’s barely doing anything, and now you are going to judge because he’s cutting into your precious personal time with him. You stare at him for several minutes, keeping your eyes locked on his face. Unlike any normal person who’d get uncomfortable, he just continues “working.” Finally, you crack.

“How’s it going?” you ask.

No response.

“Are you almost done?” you try again.

Nothing.

Your eyes darken, your frown growing. “Leonnnnn,” you whine.

And still absolutely nothing. You have one more weapon in your arsenal. If this doesn’t work, you know you’ll just have to pack it up for the night.

“Daddy…” you whimper, using the softest voice you could manage, the one that always shot right through him. You jut your bottom lip out a bit more and put that pleading in your eyes. After this, all you have is literal tears, and you’re hoping it doesn’t go to that point.

Leon knows this, and he doesn’t want it to get that far either. He finally spins his chair in your direction. His eyes land on your face. He has to repress the smirk rising to his face over your neediness.

“Funny how that name seems to always slip out most when you want something,” he replies.

At least he wasn’t ignoring you anymore. “All I want is your attention…” you say, keeping up your sweet performance.

“Oh yeah?” he taunts, “Tell me, baby. Were you thinking of daddy today when you were home alone?”

Your eyes dart away from his face, but you force them back. You couldn’t blow this by being too obvious, so you respond with a simple nod.

“I thought so, princess. What else would have had you so riled up today when I came home? It wouldn’t be because you were breaking one of your rules, would it?” he asks. His tone was obviously leading. He knew. You were so desperate for him though that at this point you were starting to think a spanking wouldn’t be that bad. At least it was some form of physical contact to sate you.

“I wasn’t riled up earlier,” you say quietly with a little shrug.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re not lying are you? Cause that’s another rule. Two broken rules in one day. That wounds me, babydoll,” he says.

“I’m not breaking any rules. I’m being honest,” you say.

“So you being all squirmy, hot skin, heavy breathing; that wasn’t you being riled up? Is daddy imagining things now? Do I not know what my girl looks like when she’s aching for me?” he asks, “What she looks like when she’s been trying to solve her little problem herself?”

Finally, he unveils his reasoning. You freeze and stare at him, trying to think of what to say. Even though you wanted attention, there was still that innate part of you that hated being in trouble. You’d much rather be perched on his lap to be loved on like the precious thing you were.

“I don’t know what you mean,” is your weak attempt at an excuse. He laughs and leans back in his chair, the old springs creaking with his motion.

“Did you put your fingers inside or just play with that pretty little clit?” he asks, eyes boring into you as he goes for the kill.

“Just my clit…” you mumble and look down.

Shaking his head again, he turns back to his computer. You watch him, expecting him to start in on you again. To lecture you about your impatience. Tease you about your borderline pathetic need for him. Take you over his knee and crack you on the ass while making you repeat each of your rules back to him.

But none of this happens. Instead, this man just goes back to straight up ignoring you. Your jaw drops and a confused whine comes from your throat. “Daddy, c’mon. I’m sorry,” you say.

He resumes typing, fingers gliding over the keys and eyes fixed on the little words appearing in front of him. You groan in frustration and sink back against the brown ribbed fabric of your chair. You glare at him from your place, trying to telepathically will him into entertaining you again. You must be lacking in mental communication though because he doesn’t change what he’s doing at all. One of your thighs crosses over the other, unintentionally giving your pussy a little friction.

That’s what made this all the more frustrating, you were still unsatisfied from earlier. You should’ve just made yourself cum like you wanted. You’d be in trouble either way. You could only hope he’d take it easy on you now for having chosen the former.

Different scenarios run through your head for how you want to play this. A spectrum of possibilities lies in front of you. On one end, you could just leave. Keep whatever dignity you had left, cut your losses, and go to bed. On the other, you could be over the top. Hop in his lap and smother him with a flurry of kisses before he could object. Either one would probably only earn you more punishment, so you try to think of a middle ground. A way to continue the game.

As you think, your right hand lazily runs up and down your chest. Your middle finger coasts over the area spanning from the valley between your breasts to your navel. Taking your lip between your teeth, you decide to start here. Your fingers move to your tits and round your nipples. The buds harden into small peaks beneath your shirt. You pinch and pull at them gently, and your cunt flutters in response to the teasing. You shift your hips up before shimmying your shorts off and letting them drop to the ground beside your chair.

You reposition yourself next to sit properly in the chair. Your heels come to rest on the plush cushion as you spread your legs and expose your damp panties to him. Not that he bothered to look.

Now your fingers moved down there. They pet your most sensitive area over the thin, wet cloth. Your breath hitches as your fingertips brush over your clit. You press down a little harder and make a soft breathy whine. His eyes flit in your direction, but they don’t linger. Take what you can get, you guess.

You slide your digits back down and massage your dripping entrance. The fabric becomes more wet as you rub it on your slick folds. Your middle and ring finger move in tandem to stoke the flames down there and to ensure the fabric is completely soaked. Once that mission is accomplished, you lift your hips for the second time to remove this garment. Only you don’t drop it to the floor. This time you toss them in his direction, landing them on his desk, lace half covering one of his wrists, half covering a section of his keyboard.

The sound of typing halts, putting the room into silence, spare the raindrops splatting against the window. His eyes remain stern and not on you. Without even looking down, he wads the panties up and shoves them in his pocket. The sound of typing resumes.

“Daddy,” you huff, “I got ‘em all wet just for you.”

He still doesn’t acknowledge you. You let out a growl of sorts and narrow your eyes at him. Your fingers slip through your arousal coating your center. You pay more attention to your clit now that it’s exposed.

“I just missed you so much today. I couldn’t help it,” you reason.

You whimper and squirm in your chair as you start rubbing faster. Your eyes are still locked on him, watching for the slightest crack in his resolve. So far there are none. You continue toying with yourself.

“I was thinking of you the whole time,” you whimper, “That should count for something. I was imagining your hands and your eyes looking down at me. I was pretending I could hear your voice.”

He remains unaffected. Your head tilts back against the plush cushioning as your hips rock in place. You mewl softly which soon turns into a long, drawn-out whine. Finally, he shifts in his seat a little, and you know right away it’s cause he’s starting to get hard.

“I just love you so much, daddy. Can’t control myself when you’re not around,” you say, further chipping away at the little dent in his stoic facade.

Your moans increase in volume as does the slippery sounds coming from your fingers moving through your slick. That feeling from this afternoon is starting to come back. Pleasure builds in your abdomen, one piece stacking on top of the other. You’re shaking more, voice getting less even with each little cry of joy. He finally turns to look at you when you start doing that thing you do when you’re about to cum, the ultra-specific puff of your chest that rolls through your abdomen to your hips. His eyes capture yours, unamused with your antics.

“If you cum right now, a spanking is the only kind of attention you’ll be getting until you learn some self-control,” he tells you.

In an instant, your fingers sputter to a stop. Your mind bounces back and forth on what to do like a metronome. But as always, your craving for Leon’s approval wins out over every other option. You remove your hand from between your legs and even sit up, closing your thighs. Maybe now, he’ll see you’re being good and cut you some slack.

Yeah, right.

He goes back to his computer. Again. You’re about to lose your mind or explode, you aren’t sure which will come first. Standing from the chair, you start walking to his desk. He still didn’t look at you! How rude, you’d think that the touching yourself rule was his favorite or something even though you knew it wasn’t. That title belonged to the rule that let him pick your outfit whenever the two of you went out.

A few paces in his direction, and you’re back right where you started. Arms looped over his shoulders, nuzzling your face against his cheek, and kissing the side of his head. “I said I’m sorry daddy,” you say softly, “I’m really really really really sorry. I know I was a bad girl, but only for that.”

He grunts and scoots closer to his desk, away from your embrace. A noise of exasperation leaves you, and without thinking, you roll the chair back a couple inches and embrace him again, only tighter. A grin rises on your face when you see the bulge that had formed in his lap.

“Pretty please? I’ll take whatever punishment. I don’t want daddy to be mad at me anymore,” you plead and give him some more pecks on the cheek. You knew you probably looked ridiculous, pantless and visibly horny, but that wasn’t a true concern at this moment in time.

“Go to bed,” he states simply, “I’ll deal with you later.”

That wasn’t good enough. You wanted him now.

“Daddy,” you whine, stretching out the last syllable. You lower yourself to your knees and slink down in front of his chair. “C’mon, I said it like a million billion trillion times. Can’t we just kiss and make up?”

He stares down at you, not impressed with your show of submission. He was playing harder than usual. He knew that wouldn’t deter you though. You squish your cheek against his thighs as your hands creep up his legs.

“Do I have to make a special apology?” you ask, looking up at him with puppy eyes.

He pushes your hands away as they reach his thighs. “Quit it,” he growls, “Let me finish my work and maybe we can work something out.”

But you don’t quit it. You move yourself closer to one of his legs, preparing to put on a little show for him if need be. Your eyes don’t quit and neither does the pleading expression on your mouth.

“But I need my daddy now,” you huff, “I-”

And that’s it. You’re cut off by Leon reaching down and yanking you into his lap.

“Such a fuckin’ brat,” he grunts, “Ready to hump my leg like a bitch in heat cause I don’t give you attention for a couple hours.”

You squirm a bit as his hands rub up and down your sides and squeeze your hips. He stills you with a firm slap to your ass. Both of your eyes gaze into the others, the small spheres swirling with arousal, annoyance, and adoration.

“I just missed you. I would’ve left you alone if you weren’t so mean to me,” you point out.

“Who says I have to be nice to you? You don’t get to decide when you wanna listen based on that,” he says and pulls you to his chest. You lean in against the muscular expanse while his hand snakes between the two of you to get at his button and zipper. “Your job is being a good girl. Not just when you feel like it. Not only when daddy’s giving you kisses and calling you pretty. The only time you stop is when I say, and that didn’t happen today did it? Am I imagining things again?”

“No,” you agree reluctantly, “But I-”

“Cut your yapping out. I’ve heard enough. Give me some quiet or I’ll put those panties to good use,” he threatens.

As your lips fall shut, you hear the tug of his zipper and feel him shift as he takes himself out. Now you’re really quiet, more from anticipation than obedience.

“Now I’m gonna let you sit on my cock, but that’s it. No squirming, no ‘getting comfy,’ no whining, no ‘but daddy.’ You act up too much, and I’m truly sending your ass to bed for the night.”

You look up at him and nod, not even speaking because you didn’t want to cut your chances at dick off before they started.

“Good,” he says.

One of his hands helps elevate you so that he can position his length underneath you. The tip slips through your folds, already soaked from your prior escapades. He doesn’t tease too much, wasn’t interested in hearing you beg right now. He’d heard enough of that for tonight. He pushes you down onto it. His mouth twitches, and he sucks in a deep breath as he feels the warmth of your walls engulf his cock.

You slide all the way down with ease. Looking back at his face again, you feel the insatiable urge to give him a little kiss. If you did that though, would that be one of the things you aren’t supposed to be doing?

“Daddy… can I have a little kiss first?” you ask.

He merely shoots you a look that tells you don’t push it.

With a final look of defeat, you nestle yourself against his chest, head on his shoulder so you can look up at his face. He was so focused. If you didn’t know you were here, you never would suspect he’d be up to this level of multitasking.

You let out a sigh. It was nice being full, but you still yearned for more. You were really trying to be good though, so there wasn’t much for you to do. Minutes tick by as you try in earnest to think of a potential solution. To make matters worse, at a certain point, after you’d been on his dick for a while, his hand starts roaming your back. A soothing touch that made your walls flutter around him. He knew it would too, you could tell from that little smirk on his face.

Trying to focus on the positives, you mentally study every feature of his cock that you can feel. It’s so deep, he’s resting right against the spot that could drive you wild when properly battered. It pulsed rhythmically, twitching slightly when your muscles would contract or release around his shaft.

You’re actually doing better than expected, letting your mind wander. But then, he’s the one to move a bit under the guise of necessary readjustment. The whimper that falls from your lips is inevitable. He shushes you, and you mutter an apology, but that simple movement was enough to reignite the fire in your belly.

You bite your lip, the neediness in your eyes intensifying. “Daddy?” you whisper, testing the waters.

Nothing.

So he had gone back to this? Not if you could help it. You don’t bother speaking again. Instead, you move the tiniest bit, rolling your hips as you act like you’re shifting to alleviate a cramp. To your shock, he doesn’t say anything, just shifts his hips a bit in return.

You glance up hopefully. Maybe he was going to ease up, but he just didn’t want to verbally admit it. You move a little more, but this time, you’re a bit too zealous in your attempt. His hands grab your hips and dig into your flesh, keeping you in place.

You’re so pent up and frustrated. Your forehead thuds back onto his shoulder. “Ple-”

“What did I say?” he asks.

“But da-”

“What did I say?” he asks again and tightens his grip.

“I just wanna cum,” you whimper, “It hurts, been achy all day.”

“Oh it hurts, does it?” he mocks. He jerks your hips to give you some fleeting friction while maintaining his control. “What is it about today that’s making it so hard for you to listen?”

“I-” you start to defend yourself out of instinct but can’t actually come up with anything. “I don’t know.”

“That’s right you don’t. So quit acting like you do. You think with that slutty little pussy, and then act like you don’t need daddy to make the decisions. It’s a little disappointing, babydoll,” he scolds.

Your eyes flicker with every stage of grief as he says this. That’s literally the worst thing he could say. He could call you any name in the book and you’d brush it off with an eyeroll or a “hmph.” But disappointing? That was evil. That word could worm its way into your heart and weigh on you for days.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly in a desperate attempt to remedy, “I just… I’m so pent up. Can’t think with my head when my pussy keeps distracting me.”

“Oh, poor baby,” he mocks with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

“That’s why I have to cum,” you plead, “I need it. It’s not even the same when I do it. I should’ve just waited. I’m sorry.”

“You need it?” he repeats, “So fuckin’ spoiled. I give you some dick even when you don’t deserve it, and it’s still not enough. I gotta train some gratitude into you next.”

“You’re the one who spoils me,” you pout.

“Oh, so it’s all my fault? So you’re saying I shouldn’t be so easy on you, huh?” he challenges.

You shake your head as fast as humanly possible, now set on backtracking your fuck up. But it was too late. “No, I was just sayi-” you start before he cuts you off yet again.

“And just when I was about to start fucking you too? That’s a damn shame,” he says.

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head more. This had gone from a slight improvement to a downward spiral.

“I mean, why would I bother now? All you care about is getting to cum. Don’t care about all the work daddy puts in to make you feel good the entire time,” he taunts, “If that’s the case, then go ahead. Cum. Take what you want, but don’t you dare move those hips.”

Your look of anguish evolves into that of confusion. You don’t really want to question him right now, but you’re unsure of how you’re supposed to follow that command. “I can’t…” you say softly.

“Why not?” he asks.

“Not enough,” you answer.

“Then make it enough,” he growls, “You were having so much fun today with those fingers. They don’t work anymore?”

Oh. Your face feels hot as the realization dawns on you. You shyly bring your hand to your center and awkwardly fumble with your clit. You look at him, silently begging to ride him.

“You can do better than that,” he responds, “You were putting on such a show earlier, so don’t act like you need my help all the sudden.”

Shamefully, your fingers pick up some speed. You whimper as the pads of your digits rub over a sensitive spot. The whole time he’s still inside you. It felt kind of weird, but still good. You weren’t going to complain. Your upper body twitches a bit, but he holds you straight up, making sure you're looking at him while you work.

“That’s it. How’s it feeling, baby? Is it as good as when daddy does it?” he taunts.

“No…” you whimper, “It’s ok.”

“Aw, well, it’s gonna have to be good enough for now because it’s the only way you’re cumming.”

You groan and whine at the statement. It was the truth, but that didn’t mean you wanted to hear it. You start circling faster and flicking your hand with more urgency. Your head falls back at the sensations as a breathy moan floats from your lips. He squeezes your hips again as you tighten around his cock from the euphoria you brought yourself.

“Look at that. Think you’re gonna be able to cum all by yourself?” he teases.

You nod. Your hips rock involuntarily as the pleasure ramps up, but his grip keeps you stationary. Little gasps like the ones from earlier when you were in the chair escape you. Your fingers move almost like they’re automated.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please can I finish?” you whimper, “Wanna cum so bad, daddy, please?”

“I already gave you permission, baby. Guess you really wanna show me how good you actually are,” he chuckles.

You can’t even say anything back before the switch flips inside you and release tears through you. Your back stiffens up and a strangled rope of moans come out of you. Your hips jerk harder than before, giving you brief brushes with the head of his cock. He sighs contentedly as you flutter around his cock and provide him with a muted sense of bliss.

You’re still riding it out when his hands are no longer just holding you, but rather, beginning to bounce you. You feel it in your cunt before your brain even catches up with the general motion of your body. It’s because you’re still so sensitive. The tingly stab pulling a quiet shriek from you.

“Daddy, gimme a break,” you whine.

“What? Daddy doesn’t deserve to finish too? Is that what you think? You just get to have your fun, and leave me to deal with it. That’s not how it works, princess,” he says.

“I’m not- I didn’t… I just can’t… it’s too much,” you struggle to get out between the whimpers coming from you. He keeps bouncing you, groaning as that hushed ecstasy blossoms into an encompassing euphoria. The noises of him sliding in and out are nearly louder than all the whining and moaning you’re doing.

“You can take it,” he grunts, “I’ll say when you’ve had enough.”

You cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain as his hips start to meet your hips guided by his hands. A deep groan rumbles in his chest as your cunt’s constant contracting massages his length. After a while, it feels like you’re almost numb down there. The fire still rages in your belly, but your actual pussy has been beaten into submission by your boyfriend’s cock. He watches your face as he moves you, relishing the way your eyes are getting glossy with a cocktail of tears, both of overstimulation and relief.

“So pretty for me, sweetheart. Gonna be even prettier when you cum again all over my dick and milk me dry,” he grunts.

“Uh huh,” you moan without thinking, head wildly falling back and forth in what’s supposed to be a nod.

Soon enough, his chest and belly are tightening up. He knows the end is near and pistons into your cunt extra hard for the finale. You wail and grip his biceps for support as you explode. You didn’t ask to cum this time, but being so close to his own release, he couldn’t really find it to care.

He keeps going through your orgasm, practically making you sob in pleasure. You feel impossibly tight, warm, and wet. And when he sees how your precious face is getting tight too, scrunching up as you reach the peak of the peak, he can’t hold it off.

His fingers dig into your hips so hard that you feel like the future bruises are already there. Your eyes are rolled back in advance as he fires his cum deep inside you. A goofy smile graces his features as he pumps it in, enjoying the waves of pleasure that wash over him throughout. And the whole time you’re pulsing away through your own release.

You look even dumber than he does, silly smile not just on your lips, but visible in your eyes too. You’re whimpering, extra whiny and a higher pitch. He rubs your skin to remind you he’s right there. He can see your head coming back to reality as the whirlpool of ecstasy subsides.

“Oh that’s it, there’s my good girl,” he coos as you finally reach the end of the high. His hand rubs your back in long, even strokes. “So proud of you, sunshine.”

A dreamy, self-satisfied grin comes across your face. His words were the best drugs while you were in this state, and the tone of his voice only made them that much more addictive.

“Such a good girl,” he repeats, “Now how ‘bout you give daddy a kiss.”

Eagerly you boost yourself towards his lips to connect in a hazy smooch. You’re a bit sloppy with it, but he expected that and found it cute. Of course you were dizzy. He just fucked you stupid. Once you pull away, he strokes your hair and smiles at your blissed out face.

“Aw, cutie. Looks like it’s time for you to head to bed,” he says as his fingers move to rub your cheek.

“You too. I wanna cuddle,” you say, locking your arms around him.

“Mhm, I’ll be right behind you. I gotta finish up the last of this. Now that I don’t have you distracting me, it should only take about fifteen minutes,” he teases.

“That’s like a million years, and I already had to wait all day,” you sigh dramatically.

“Then I’m sure you can handle a few more minutes,” he says and rubs his nose against yours, “Don’t start getting mouthy with me, little love. I still have those panties I can easily turn into a gag.”

With a playful glare, you get up on wobbly legs to make your exit, dizzy smile still plastered on your face. You start to stumble to the door when he calls out to you.

“Wow princess, not even going to say good night to daddy? I expected better from my baby,” he chides teasingly.

You roll your eyes while smiling and return to him to smack one final big kiss on his lips. “Night daddy,” you say with a small giggle.

He smirks at your clear happiness. As you turn to leave, he swats your ass. “I’ll be right there. Bet you’ll already be passed out by the time I get there,” he says as his fingers start working the keyboard again.

“I’ll be dreaming of you though,” you tease before going out the doors and down the hall to your bed.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil x you #smut #ch: leon kennedy 💌

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lemonlover1110 · 3 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 30] Graduation

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Fluff

*THIS IS IT thank you all so much for reading, this truly has been a journey and I couldn't have done it without your support. love you all so much🫂❤️

**Too lazy to put all the smut warnings, it's nothing too extreme just some face sitting and whatnot :p

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“Are you ready to go?” Satoru asks, walking into your room to find you sitting in front of the vanity. You’re finishing up your makeup, putting the lash touch on your lips. His heart skips a beat, and he could faint right at this moment. He’s the luckiest man alive. He still has to rush you, “You can’t be late to your own graduation.”

“Is Anzu ready?” You question, and Satoru hums in response. He walks over to the bed and takes a seat to watch you.

“What? Do you not think I’m responsible enough? I can handle a baby.” Satoru says, as if you didn’t find your daughter nearly chewing an extension cord yesterday because he took his eyes off her for a second. You’re taking an awfully long time to answer the question which makes Satoru scoff, “She’s ready and with your mom.”

“Good.” You answer, turning your attention back to yourself yet again. Which type of earrings will be best? Satoru got you some beautiful diamond earrings for this occasion but you’re not sure you want to wear them– You don’t want to show off to everybody that your fiancé is filthy rich.

“Why don’t you put on the ones I got you?” Satoru sees that you’re struggling to pick the earrings you’ll wear for the night, so he’ll make a suggestion. You ignore him though, and he can’t help but laugh. He stands up, “I’ll go check on Ren while you finish up then.”

“Yeah, make sure he showered.” You tell him, and Satoru hums in response. He walks out of the room, getting ready to deal with the nine-year-old even though the child only seems to listen to you. The man feels like neither of his kids really listen to him, but he guesses he deserves it.

You smile back at yourself in the mirror, elated with how things go. Accepting Satoru’s breakfast offer as a date made your life change– You’d argue for the better, though some people didn’t want you and Satoru to get back together. It took you a while to officially start dating, since Satoru was married; even though you knew his marriage wasn’t authentic, you didn’t want to interfere with any of the mess that was going on.

Satoru began the divorce process with Sayo not too long after asking you out. It was a mutual decision that they kept hidden for as long as they possibly could. Even after their divorce was finalized, they refused to share the news with Sayo’s parents. You understood completely, knowing that it was a bigger issue than what it seemed. You had Satoru all to yourself either way, you didn’t really care what a random pair of old people thought.

The truth came to light eventually, when you got pregnant with your baby girl. It ended Sayo’s relationship with her parents, but time has passed and she’s much happier without them. It was around two years ago, when Ren kept begging for a baby brother, and Satoru convinced you that it would be a great idea. You wanted another baby so there wasn’t the need for too much convincing either way. Unluckily for Ren, Anzu ended up being a baby girl.

If you were given the chance to go back in time and change something, you’d keep everything the same. Maybe you would’ve kicked Satoru’s groin once or twice, but you’d do it all again. For Ren, for Anzu. For Satoru as well, though you wouldn’t admit it outloud.

“Ren isn’t ready!” Satoru yells, and you can’t help but chuckle as you roll your eyes. Your sweet baby boy is slowly becoming disobedient, and it’s a bit frustrating. You knew it was going to happen eventually, it’s just hard to believe that your baby boy is slowly setting off on his own adventure.

“Ren! Come here!” You yell, and within a matter of seconds your son comes running into your room. He doesn’t listen to Satoru, but you? He’ll listen to almost everything you have to say.

“What’s up?” He asks, and you look him over. You shake your head disappointedly, seeing that he’s still wearing pajamas.

“Do you want to stay home? Mrs. Gojo is more than happy to babysit.” Even when the woman is about to become your mother-in-law, you refuse to call her anything other than Mrs. Gojo. She’s the grandmother of your two kids, but you refuse to acknowledge her in any other way.

You barely have a relationship with her, for many reasons. Main one is that Satoru doesn’t really want to associate himself with her, not after everything that went down with Ren. Frankly, the only reason he even speaks to her is because Ren adores her– Though you believe that his opinion about his grandma is slowly changing because Ren quickly shakes his head.

“We’re going to her home later anyway, you can stand behind.” You assure him, but he shakes his head before darting out of the room. You almost laugh before yelling, “Make sure you don’t stink!”

“There she is!” You hear Satoru yell, and you turn around to find him with your little family. Your one-year-old squeals at the sight of her mother, while Ren glares at the baby for stealing his spotlight. You walk over to them, taking your baby Anzu into your arms before leaning down to kiss Ren’s forehead.

“Did you have fun there, Ren?” You ask him, and he shakes his head. He’s not going to have much fun watching a bunch of people that he doesn’t know walk across a stage. Satoru didn’t even give the child his phone.

“Ignore him, he’s been whining all day long. Where’s my kiss?” Satoru quickly changes the topic and you roll your eyes before pecking his lips. He tries to hug you without squashing the baby, saying, “Congratulations, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Satoru.” You respond, pecking his lips once again. You notice a couple of missing people from your group, and you question, “Where’s my mom? And Sayo and Shoko? Their little guy?”

“Bathroom.” Ren answers, and you raise your brows. All of them? You can’t exactly blame them, the ceremony was a long one.

“How about we–” You begin but you notice that your little guy is pouty. You know the reason immediately, so you hand Satoru your baby girl and crouch down to bring the child into a hug. “Am I not getting congratulations from the person that I care about the most?”

“Anzu can’t talk yet.” He answers, which almost makes you laugh. Almost. He’s so jealous of his baby sister, which is kind of ironic considering he begged you to have a baby. His attitude certainly changed when he realized that the baby requires a lot of time and attention.

“Ren, you’re the apple of my eye.” You tell him, though the child refuses to listen. Cuddles are less frequent lately since you have a crying baby that needs you, and you barely play with him anymore. “Can mommy at least get a congratulations?”

“Congratulations, mom.” Ren responds, and you feel your heart melt. Even when he’s mad at you, he’s your cute little guy. You’re rubbing your cheek with his, being as affectionate as you can be with the little guy. Though he ends up pushing you away, telling you, “You’re doing too much.”

“Jeez, what is it with you? One moment you’re all jealous and the next you’re saying I’m doing too much.” You chuckle, standing up. You take the baby from your fiancé, knowing that she still has a long way before she can tell you that you’re doing too much.

“Can we leave before we bump into any traffic?” Satoru asks, reading the time on his watch. Not that he’s thrilled to go to his mother’s house, but he’d prefer to be there than sitting in traffic for hours on end. He sees your eyes wandering around for the rest of your group but before you get any ideas he reminds you, “You don’t want to sit in a car with a screaming one-year-old, do you?”

“Yeah… I guess we’ll just meet them at your mom’s place.” You answer, knowing that once your baby girl begins to cry, it’s hard to get her to stop. Good thing for you, she’s usually all smiles and giggles.

“She’s drooling.” Ren points at his sister, who’s making a mess on your gown. Ren then turns his attention to his dad, asking, “I wasn’t a messy baby like her, right?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Satoru mutters, and you glare at him.

“Let’s get going.”

The graduation party is for you, a way for Mrs. Gojo to congratulate you on finally finishing your bachelor’s. In reality, it’s a way for her to see her grandchildren. A way for her to spoil Ren and dote on Anzu.

Things between the two of you go back to the way they were: she barely notices you and you don’t acknowledge her. You’re no longer relying on her in any way, and apart from asking about your kids, the woman won’t bother to contact you. She’s fine with the change of you becoming Satoru’s fiancée– And even if she was opposed to it, Satoru won’t listen to her. As a matter of fact, Satoru never calls her first.

You’re in the kitchen, preparing yourself a plate of food, watching as Mrs. Gojo holds your baby. It’s odd to watch her be so… Soft with someone. Sure, she enables Ren and is willing to do anything he wants, but Ren sets the tone. You’ve never watched her with a baby before.

“Who’s my pretty girl?” The woman is putting a baby voice for fuck’s sake, something she never did for her own son. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s just grandma now, she doesn’t have to worry about anything but her grandchildren. Anzu is giggling, so Mrs. Gojo is doing something right.

“I can’t believe that’s my mother.” Satoru approaches you, a little disgusted to watch his mother like this. He should be happy, but it’s a little weird to watch such a cold woman put on a baby voice and entertain a baby. “That is my mother, right? They didn’t change her after her facelift?”

“I’m right here, Satoru. Just because I’m holding a baby doesn’t mean that my ears have disappeared.” She quickly scolds her son, and you can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t get a facelift either.”

“Right, you just spent two months in South Korea touring.” Satoru retorts, grabbing a plate for himself. They begin to bicker, and as entertaining as it is to watch them, you leave them alone to sort out their own issues.

You walk to the living room to find Ren playing with Shoko and Sayo’s baby– Something that he won’t do with his own baby sister. You’re not sure if it’s because she’s not the baby brother that Ren wanted or if it’s because he’s not getting the same amount of attention as before. Sayo keeps a close eye on the child, not because she doesn’t trust him, but because she’s an overprotective mother. You sit beside him, excited to watch him play and be sweet with a baby, even if it isn’t your baby girl.

“He’s so sweet. Is he like this with Anzu?” Sayo asks, ruffling Ren’s hair as he plays peek-a-boo with the ten-month-old baby. You scoff, as if. Your reaction is the best answer that she needs, and she chuckles. She’s not sure if that’s normal behavior between siblings since she’s an only child.

“What do you mean you aren’t the sweetest older brother to Anzu? You were so excited to be a big brother.” Shoko points out, and Ren’s brows come together. He knows he can’t be mean to his auntie Shoko… So he simply glares at her.

“I don’t want to play with your baby anymore.” He responds. It’s his way of punishing Shoko for the question.

“Damn, can’t take any sort of criticism. You really don’t need a DNA test, that’s one hundred percent Satoru’s kid.” Shoko says, which earns a laugh from you.

“Babe…” Sayo says through gritted teeth, which makes Shoko roll her eyes. God forbid she points out one thing.

“He’s just a little jealous, but he loves his baby sister.” You tease him, pinching your baby boy’s cheek, and he puffs out a breath. Maybe he does like her a bit. Ren doesn’t defend himself, deciding that he’s just going to grab some food from your plate as a punishment. Though it isn’t exactly a punishment for you, you’re always happy to watch your baby eat. “Do you want me to make you a plate, honey?”

“I’m not hungry.” He mutters, crossing his arms. He stands up from his seat, and walks to the stairs, planning to go to the room that his grandma has for him. He might not have his parents undivided attention anymore, but at the very least he still has a room that’s full of games that’s just for him (as if he didn’t have one in your home either).

“He really is Satoru’s kid…” Shoko comments when Ren is out of sight, and Sayo scolds her again.

“He is, he looks just like me.” Satoru pops into the living room unannounced, which catches Shoko off guard. He wasn’t supposed to hear that, since it’s a critique of his character but she doesn’t find a care to give. He comes back holding Anzu after nearly having to fight his mother to get her. He sits down next to you, reaching for some of the food on your plate. “But I’m guessing it wasn’t a compliment since it’s coming from you.”

“I can be nice, you know.” Shoko responds, and Satoru laughs as if a joke had just come from her lips. Nice… He’ll believe it when he sees it though. Satoru takes a bite of the food that he’s taken from your plate, and he grimaces.

“Did my mom cook or what? This is disgusting.” Satoru can’t even chew the food. Unluckily for him, he doesn’t have anywhere where he can spit the food so he’s forced to swallow. Anzu is screaming, little hand trying to reach for the food. Satoru covers her eyes, “Don’t even look there, my love. There’s no way I’m letting you eat that.”

“It’s not that bad.” You tell him, tasting the food yourself.

“Well what is it? Am I getting a plate for myself or not?” Shoko asks, reaching over to grab some food from your plate as well. Suddenly your plate has become everyone’s plate; you’re used to it at home with Satoru and Ren, but now Shoko is on the list.

“I wouldn’t trust her with food, she’s always claiming she wants to eat the baby’s cheeks.” Satoru argues, and you click your tongue knowing damn well that he says the same thing.

“Anzu has the cutest, chubbiest cheeks, I understand.” Sayo chimes in before looking at her own baby and kissing his cheeks. Shoko takes a bite, keeping her face neutral as she chews the food.

“It’s not that bad, Satoru. You’re just dramatic.” Shoko responds, and Satoru pouts. He brings some of the food to the baby’s lips– Even though he claimed he wasn’t going to let her taste, he needs someone to prove him right and that someone will be his one-year-old daughter that spits everything back up.

“Taste this, love.” Satoru says as Anzu bites into the food. Within moments it dribbles down her chin, and back into Satoru’s hand. He’s grossed out, but at least his point has been proven. “Anzu doesn’t like it so…”

“Are you trying to prove your point by using a baby that just stopped breastfeeding?” Shoko questions, and Satoru glares at her. She can’t help but chuckle, “Man, your son is just like you.”

“I’m going to talk to him since he appreciates me.” Satoru stands up, and begins to walk to the stairs, but your voice stops him. You call out his name, and he expects some sort of apology from you but instead you ask,

“Have you seen my mom?”

“She popped into the kitchen to talk to my mom.” He answers before leaving. You’re unphased by the response. The women that don’t get along in any other circumstance, sit together to talk about their grandchildren. They can be cordial with each other once every six months.

Though Satoru doesn’t pay much attention to them, his focus right now is on his baby boy that sits alone in the game room. Ren sits down on the floor, reading to himself. Satoru doesn’t want to interrupt the healthy habit, but at the same time he doesn’t want Ren to sit by himself during the party. He takes a moment to wash his hands before joining Ren.

“Why are you here, honey? We’re celebrating your mom downstairs.” Satoru sits down beside Ren on the floor, and he feels ten years older as he hears his bones crack. Ren barely looks up from his book, side-eyeing his sister, which makes Satoru want to roll his eyes. Isn’t he a little too old to be jealous of a baby? Matter of fact, he begged to be a big brother. “What is your issue with her? What has she done to you?”

“Nothin’.” Ren claims, his eyes landing on his book again. Satoru sighs, letting the baby on the floor so she can walk around and do as she pleases. She chooses to stay nearby, walking over to her brother to take the book that he has in his hands. “See.”

“Anzu, go over there. Chew on the power cords.” Satoru redirects her elsewhere, and the baby whines because she wants something else. “So she takes all your stuff, is that why you don’t like her? You have a lot, Ren.”

“Not just my stuff. Everyone likes her better. You, mom, granny, grammy, the nanny. I used to be everyone’s favorite but then the cute baby came along.” Ren confesses, and Satoru fights back the urge of pointing out that he called Anzu cute. It’s not about the baby right now, Satoru reminds himself.

“You’re still everyone’s favorite, Ren.” Satoru tells a little white lie– There are no favorites in the family, he loves both of his kids equally. But the baby can’t understand him, it’s why he told her to chew on a power cord. “Everyone is just excited about the new baby, it’s not that you’re not the favorite anymore.”

“Why does she get away with everything then?” Ren asks as if he didn’t know any better. He’ll act dumb simply because he’s jealous. He doesn’t ask why Sayo and Shoko’s baby gets away with everything, because Ren knows that it’s just a baby… He just doesn’t have the same feelings about Anzu.

“Well for one thing she goes potty in her pants so… She isn’t really conscious about her actions.” Satoru answers, and Ren puffs out a breath. Satoru got him there. “Anzu just needs a lot of attention because she’s–”

“Don’t do that!” Ren cuts off his father when he realizes that Anzu is doing what Satoru told her to do earlier. Ren takes the cord out of her hand, and she lets out a cry. He’s going to complain about her, but he loves her.

“She’ll grow on you.” Satoru says, standing up to grab his walking baby and get out of Ren’s hair. Ren doesn’t like the baby but he certainly loves her. “But come downstairs, Ren. We’re celebrating your mommy’s achievement. She was talking about hanging up her diploma next to your kindergarten diploma.”

“Can you tell them I don’t want to talk about Anzu?” Ren asks, and Satoru hums in response. Satoru extends his hand for Ren to take, and the child takes it without an issue before both head back downstairs to spend time with you.

“What are you doing here?” Satoru approaches you as you sit on the ground outside, in his mother’s garden. You’re hiding from everyone. After hours of talking to people inside, you need a break from the small group.

“Need a minute.” You answer, and Satoru decides to sit down next to you. The kids are fine with their grandmothers, he can take a moment alone with you and properly congratulate you. He throws his arm over your shoulder and brings you close to him. “We should’ve just gone out to eat at a restaurant and called it a day. I don’t have the energy to be so social.”

“I got you a trip to Bora Bora. You just have to power through these last couple of hours… We can get Anzu to throw a fit and make it a few minutes.” He responds and you chuckle. You rest your head on his shoulder and shut your eyes for a moment. Being social shouldn’t be so draining.

“Can we leave the kids with granny?” You ask him, and he hums in response. He had no plans on taking them; he loves them, but they sure know how to ruin a vacation.

Your gaze falls on his face, looking into the blue eyes you fell in love with so long ago. Even though it was an eternity ago, he still makes your heart skip a beat. He doesn’t let you stare for too long before he steals a kiss from you.

“If you stare for too long you might find me ugly.” Satoru tells you and you roll your eyes. If you don’t find him ugly first thing in the morning then you’re definitely not finding him ugly now.

“Are you saying that because–” You begin but the man cuts you off before you can finish your question. He knows you, he knows that you’ll start a petty fight with a dumb question.

“Because I love you so much, and I think I’m not good enough for you– I know I’m not good enough for you, you’re perfect.” Satoru responds, making you grin from ear to ear. He isn’t exactly wrong, he’s lucky that you considered getting back together with him at all.

“I love you too even though you’re…” You bite your tongue before you insult him. He raises a brow and before he can question anything, your lips land on his. His cheeks begin to turn pink when you peck his lips over and over again, feeling like a teenager all over again.

You stare into his eyes when you stop, watching the sparkle in them as he looks back at you. He’s utterly in love with you, and the feeling only gets more intense as time passes. He caresses your face with the back of his hand ever so lovingly. You get lost in his loving eyes until your eyes shift to the flowers behind him.

“Oh my–” You gasp, your eyes widening as you realize. “This is where you used to pick flowers for me?”

“Oh, yeah.” Satoru laughs, turning to pick a lily for you. It’s been years since he’s been in this place. Maybe he should come here more often. “A flower for my flower.”

“Cheesy.” You take it from his hands, wanting to roll your eyes because of his comment– But your face is getting hot. Even when he’s cheesy your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“Yeah, cheesy is what got me two kids.” He retorts. “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Gojo?”

“Calling me Mrs. Gojo is going to make you single.” You warn him, and he fights back on laughing. “Don’t make me divorce you before getting married.”

“What? Are you going to Suguru for a rebound again?” Satoru questions, making you glare at him. Maybe he should just listen and agree, not everything needs a response from him. “I’m just joking, baby. He has a girlfriend now and whatnot.”

“You better stick to your day job, you have no future as a comedian.” You say, standing up from the ground to go back inside, and of course, Satoru follows like a lost puppy. He’s simply lost without you.

You love spending time with your kids, you love them more than anything– But you’re not going to pass up on the opportunity of a sleepover. Having them off your hands for the night is a blessing sometimes. You simply want to celebrate with your fiancé in a way that your kids make difficult.

“I’ll run you a bath.” Satoru tells you, running to go upstairs to get to the bathroom before you. Running you a bath that he’ll end up joining, that’s not too bad. It’s a nice way to end the night, that you know for sure.

You give him a moment to set everything up, pulling out your phone to answer a couple of messages of people congratulating you for finishing your degree. What’s next? You’re not too sure. But whatever you decide it’s fine. You have Satoru and your kids by your side no matter what. The money also helps.

Right now, you know you want to relax in a bathtub full of bubbles. Maybe have Satoru right next to you. You’ve been looking into the future for the past ten years, for once you just want to sit back and appreciate the moment.

“Are you coming?!” You hear Satoru as you walk up the stairs. He’s so impatient, he can’t even wait a minute. You won’t hurry up to please him, as a matter of fact, you walk slower. Satoru is tapping his foot on the floor when you finally get to the bedroom.

“Finally.” He says, walking over to you to zip down the zipper that holds your dress together. He’s desperate to get you naked. You’re chuckling, reminding him,

“No need for you to be in a rush, we have all night.” But it goes in one ear and out the other. Before you know it, he turns you around, his lips landing on yours. His kiss is full of desire, needing to feel your every touch on his skin. He’s burning up to feel you.

“Fuck, I want you so fucking bad.” He pulls away from the kiss as the dress drops to the ground. He picks you up from the floor and puts you down on the bed, smirking at the black lingerie that will soon be removed. “So perfect for me, love.”

“Fuck me, Satoru.” You tell him, voice seductive that can get him to drop to his knees in an instant. The bath that’s filled up and with bubbles is long forgotten by both of you. He takes off his shirt and pants, leaving his briefs. Your eyes stare at the tent that makes him ever so uncomfortable. You sit up on the bed, your fingers going directly to the erection.

Your index finger goes underneath the band of his underwear, eyes looking up at him as you pull his briefs down. Your eyes quickly avert to his cock, wrapping around the base of it. You slowly move your hand from base to tip as pre-cum leaks from the tip. Your tongue licks it up, circling around it as the man bites down on his lip.

Your mouth wraps around all it can take, bobbing your head slowly. You take what your mouth can handle. He can’t complain because it’s just perfect. Everything you do in Satoru’s eyes is perfect. The pace is slow, but it gradually gets faster.

You look up at him to find him biting his lip, his eyes shut. You take his cock out of your mouth, and begin to run your hand up and down his shaft, your saliva serving as a lubricant. He finally opens his eyes to look down at you, but his teeth remain on his bottom lip.

“I want to hear you.” You say, a rather demanding tone in your voice. He stops biting down on his lip, and your hand continues to jerk him off for a couple of seconds before your mouth wraps around his cock again.

He’s groaning at your every move, which is like music to your ears. You look up at him to find him looking back down at you. He knows you’re more than satisfied with him, with how he sounds. It’s nice to be as loud as he wants to be, without worrying about someone barging in.

You try to take his whole length in your mouth, making you gag. Tears quickly form in your eyes as you remove your mouth from his cock, and try again. He throws his head back, breathy moans escaping his lips at your every move.

You take your mouth off his cock and begin to jerk him off. Your mouth goes to his balls and you begin to suck on them. Satoru got louder and louder by the second, his release approaching.

Your mouth goes back to his cock while your hands begin to play with his balls. It doesn’t take too long for his cum to hit the back of your throat. Your mouth remains on his cock for a couple of seconds before pulling away. You make sure to swallow all the cum, sticking your tongue out for him to see and proudly admire.

“My good girl.” He praises you. He reaches behind to unhook your bra and slide it off you. Once it’s off, he desperately tries to take off your panties. It’s unexpected when he gets on the bed and lays down. You crawl to where he is, positioning yourself on top of him. You get ready to ride him, but it takes you by surprise when your fiancé says, “Sit on my face.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, though it’s not unusual from Satoru.

“Just come here and sit.” He responds. You do what he wants, but you are hesitant to fully sit down. He’s the one who pushes you down onto him. His tongue is quick to wander around your cunt.

His tongue begins to flick your clit over and over again, making low moans leave your lips. His arms go over your thighs, pushing you down further. You’d be worried about him breathing, if you weren’t too focused on how his tongue moves around your pussy.

“Toru!” You moan. Your moans serve as encouragement, and are a sweet reward for the man, moving his tongue faster. His tongue stops flicking your clit, and moves down to your hole. He teases you, threatening to enter but never really doing it.

“Baby please.” You beg. His tongue finally enters your cunt. You shut your eyes, getting lost in the feeling. But out of the two of you, Satoru is enjoying it more. He finally takes his tongue out and goes back to your clit.

He begins to suck on your clit, and you swear you see stars as your orgasm builds up. Your hips raise a bit, but he pushes you back down. You get louder and louder. “I’m gonna- fuck- gonna cum-”

You moan loudly as you reach your climax, his tongue still working wonders. A minute later he stops, and you get off him, sitting down on his torso. He raises himself a bit, not completely to sit up but enough to wrap his hand around your throat and pull you into a lewd kiss.

“Should we continue in the bath?” Satoru asks when he pulls away and you can’t nod your head more frantically. You get off the bed and practically run to the bath. Satoru gets in the bathtub first, and you follow behind.

“You’re so lucky.” You point out as your back presses against his chest. He’s never doubted it. He peppers your neck with kisses, while you align his cock with your entrance. You lower yourself on his cock.

“How about another baby?” Satoru asks, making you click your tongue while you begin to move.

“Leave me alone” You reply, and he wants to chuckle but he’s biting down his lip as he feels your pussy wrap around him. He loves your mouth but it can’t compare to this.

He’s kissing your back, showing you how much he loves you in every possible way as you move up and down his cock. His hand moves down to play with your clit, making you shut your eyes. Every little touch is enough to make you insane lately and Satoru loves to touch you.

“You’re so perfect around me, baby.” Satoru whispers into your ear before nibbling on your earlobe.

You’re softly moaning his name, your walls tightening around him. You’re so close to finishing. You’ve been so touch deprived lately since your schedules make spending time with each other impossible– Maybe now you’ll have more time to spend with each other.

“Fuck–” You curse as you finish on his cock. You hold to the edge of the bathtub as Satoru continues to move in and out of you.

He’s not going to last long. It’s too hard for him to contain himself when he’s inside of you. He comes to a complete stop when he finally reaches his release, finishing inside of you. He remains buried inside of you as you pant to catch your breaths, but after a minute you lift yourself and take his cock out of you.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Satoru asks, hands caressing your arms as your head goes to his chest.

“Just sleep.” You answer as Satoru kisses the top of your head. He squeezes your hand before bringing it up to his lips to press a subtle kiss on it. “I need to get some rest.”

“Sleep sounds nice.” Satoru responds. You’re getting comfortable in the bathtub as your eyes begin to get heavy. You’re tired. Satoru notices and he splashes you, “Don’t fall asleep in the bathtub, love.”

“Just carry me to the bed.” You reply, making him roll his eyes playfully. He can, but if you don’t drag him out he’ll stay in the water and get all pruny. He’s warm by your side, too comfortable to leave. This is the reality he wanted ten years ago, and he finally has it. He’s not leaving this comfort no matter what gets in the way.

You’ll be the one to get up first and drag him out, that’s how it usually is in the morning. But you’re falling asleep. He doesn’t want to disturb you either. So he’ll just stay in the bathtub.

“Don’t let me get all pruny, Satoru. Carry me out.” You warn him, and he hums in response. He’ll have to eventually because you’ll end up killing him if you wake up in ten hours, and you’re still in the bathroom.

“You know Ren is going to call later to say goodnight?” He points out, but you don’t care to talk about it. You’re sleepy. He kisses the top of your head when he’s met with silence. He mutters softly to not disturb your peace,

“I love you. Goodnight, baby.”

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