#but then you get to the stories and it's like... oh. OH..........
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me Omw to annoy you about more Francesca content đźđź
you and my entire inbox my friend strap in everyone this is gonna be The Francesca Mega Collection. part one The Bed Collection ft You HAVE To Click/Tap To Read Anything ESPECIALLY The Asks
thank you for joining me for the Francesca Bed Collection im going to pass out
#xmen#xmen comics#cherik#charles xavier#erik lehnsherr#professor x#magneto#francesca the cat#snap sketches#OK HI HERE been tryin to posts this for ten asks now cause i severely underestimate the speed of my inbox once it picks up#ironically my sis dropped her cat off for the weekend so. i have much fran inspo LMAO she loves doing the bed thing i confess..#i will be candid and say right now that like. two(? maybe just one) of the asks in this post arent fran related#theyve been sitting in my inbox for weeks but they were used for inspo in this post SO IT COUNTS IM POSTING IT TO FEEL LESS GUILTY OK !!!!!#these arent meant to be a cohesive story or w/e but i mean if you try it can prob be. at least the last two#i was gonna try to knock out all my fran asks today actually but 1.) i underestimated how slow i draw#2.) i got to the thirdv (i made it first in this list but i mean he cutie in the third too..) comic and my brain decided i drew erik too ho#and ive decided to dedicate the rest of my night praying for forgiveness for my lascivious thinkings <- they will continue#but yeah like i said i have all the comics and the sort sketched out buuut i might redo one of them#its kinda nsft flavored (but still cute + sfw) and thats not usually a prob but the asks themselves are wholesome i felt awkward jerLJLK#maybe ill repurpose the beginning panels ... or hell maybe ill just finish them and post them as is#spoilers its more Superhero Roeplay bullshit so it can def be posted on its own without fran.. idk ...#we know how my brain goes Thats Why We're In This Sitch once im given an inch i run a marathon and i dont stop#i be having such intense visions im gonna throw up. anyway wtf was i saying i forget. oh well thaat means EnjoYWAIT I REMEMBER#im tempted to close my inbox for a bit just until i clear out all the asks i wanna draw and ik i dont HAVE to draw them#but as ive said i get visions so easily ...... and i must see them realized ... but then id miss talking to everyone :(#so we ball is simply the answer. ok fr enjoy now LMAO BYYYYEE im gonna go redraw some old stuff i think to wind down#maybe ill touch one more asks cause . cause like Many Of Them its got stuff ive been wantin to draw all week ... heh ...#ok bye we'll see what happens im not checking over these if theres a mistake then by god theres a mistake BYE
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MARRIED IN VEGAS / LANDO NORRIS
lando norris x reader / SMAU
FACE CLAIM / none!
WARNINGS / mentions of drinking and purposely misspelling words
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landonorris got mmarrkisx
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user6 ??????????????????????
user567 what the actual fuck
user000 LANDO??????
user7 the question i have is which drivers accompanied lando to get married?
user5 definitely carlos
user89 WHOS THE GIRL??????
user92 no cause why are the photos so aesthetically pleasing???
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ynuser marrrriesd vgasj đđđđđđ¤¤
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yourbsf GIRL WHAT???????
yourbsf ANSWER ME RIGJT NOW
ynuser whtat?
yourbsf omfg how drunk are you??
ynuser dunk lebron đ
yourbsf lord help us all
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landonorris posted on their story!
liked by carlossainz55 and 17,927 others
[ sheâs sob so hungover dheaiinwjsi @ynuser ]
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ynuser bro delete this zh en rmnow
landonorris enlish?
user56 BRO JUST JARD LAUNCHED THE HARD LAUNCHED
user0 wait sheâs hot asf
user8 LANDO IS SHE NAKED?
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f1wags GOSSIP: lando norris and his recently announced wife who he married in vegas (drunkenly) have been spotted in California together!
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user67 wait this pap pic is so cute
user8 guys her @ is ynuser!!!!
user589 why is lando in sunglasses and a hat??
user9 maybe heâs still HUNGOVER
ynuser oh hello guys
user7 so casual
user92 hello mrs. norris
user89 WAIT THEYâRE MATCHING OUTFITS đĽšđĽš
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ynuser as of lately đ
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landonorris hey mrs. norris
ynuser hello there mr. norris
user67 so like yes
user02 the color scheme of the post đ
user10 iâm sorry lando but sheâs my wife now
landonorris no.
user675 HE ACTUALLY RESPONDED đ
carlossainz55 do you remember me?
ynuser yes mr. smooth operator
user8 I KNEW IT CARLOS WAS THERE WITH LANDO
user20 carlando â¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸
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landonorris wifey wifey wifey â¤ď¸đ¤
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user57 y/n is in fact wifey
user78 ugh sheâs so fine
user89 lando is really bragging over insta
user0 đđđđđđđđđđđđđ
ynuser hey husband
landonorris hello my wifey
user024 no cause i love them guys
user23 itâs confirmed lando married a BADDIE
user35 need need need
user6 lando needs to know that sheâs OUR wife now
landonorris i refuse!! y/n is my wife, plus she has my last name đđ
user211 lando no need to get territorialâŚ
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ynuser honeymoon vacay
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landonorris đ¤¤đ¤¤đ¤¤đ¤¤đ¤¤đ¤¤
user5 calm down there lando
user502 if i were married to her⌠iâd be thirsting on the main 24/7
yourbsf gorgeous girl! and well himâŚ.
ynuser LMFAOO I LOVE U BAE
landonorris ?????
user99 island girl!
user02 okay guys letâs talk about how rom-com this whole thing is!
user3 FOR REAL
user02 like your a famous athlete who gets drunk and parties too hard and you marry a stranger and you both slowly start to fall in love
ynuser whoâs going to write the script???
user79 I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE đââď¸đââď¸đââď¸
user65 wait y/n did you know who lando was?
ynuser god no.. i thought he was some youtuber or something ngl
user89 LMAO
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SWEETERLOVERS - a little smau in honor of the last vegas grand prix <3
#sweeterlovers#formula 1#f1 smau#f1 fanfic#formula one#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1#f1 x reader#f1 one shot#formula one x y/n#formula one x you#lando norris smau#lando norris x you#lando norris insta au#lando norris x y/n#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando x reader#lando norris#lando norris social media au#lando norris instagram au#f1 instagram au#las vegas
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Giving up
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: Coaxing your neighbor into having sex with you although he's unsure since he's much, much older than you
Warnings: big ass unspecified age-gap, Jackson!Joel is a softie Smut| unprotected piv, crempie, insicure!joel, sub!joel, also my man has trouble lasting cause he's not done this in a very long time.
a/n:i needed to write some cheesy romantic stuff, and maybe it doesn't really make all that sense in this story and maybe i cried while writing this cause no one is ever gonna love me like this but so what bitch leave me alone (i also am i lil tipsy as i proofread this, so ignore any mistakes pls)
Part 1
"did you do something to your hair?"
Tommy was standing on Joel's doorstep, looking at him as if he were an alien.
"I washed 'em" he grumbled, "what do you want?"
His brother couldn't help but huff out a laugh
"someone's in a good mood today"
"I've gotta be somewhere, just tell me what you want"
Tommy's interest was only piqued more.
there stood his brother, his clothes perfectly clean- maybe even ironed- his hair... styled, his beard trimmed...
something was definitely going on.
"Where are you going?"
Joel rolled his eyes now, shooting his little brother a death glare
"none of your business"
Oh he knew what was going on...
"Who is she?"
"Tommy-"
"Is it Jessica? I bet 's Jessica, she's always flirting with you you ol' dog-"
Joel swore he was gonna punch him- he was already running late because of how long he took to pick his clothes- finding a flannel that wasn't completely worn out turned out to be real fucking hard.
He felt stupid for how much effort he'd put into getting ready, he felt stupid for how anxious he was, but most of all... he wanted his brother to go away.
"There ain't no one, Tommy- now, if there ain't anything you need, please go-"
But just then- just when he was finally going to get rid of him, your sweet, soft voice made its way to his ears.
"Hi Joel! Hi Tommy!" You smiled from your porch, waving your hand at him and his brother "You didn't forget about today, did you Joel?"
What in the actual fuck?
Tommy did a double-check, looking between you and his brother, and when he finally confirmed that it was actually him you were talking to, you whom he'd gotten all dolled up for, he couldn't do anything but let out a slow, long breath.
"No I didn't- I'll be there in a minute, darlin'!" Joel was answering you as his brother regained his ability to speak
"well... Fuck. Me" he was in awe, his voice barely a murmur
"it ain't like that" Joel was quick to intervene "'m just fix-"
"'m sure it ain't" Tommy let out a chuckle, his hand going to pat his brother's back "You fucking lucky bastard"
"Tommy I know she's young bu-"
"shut up man" he laughed "Just go have fun, you asshole"
__ __
"Sorry 'm late, Tommy was just-"
You smiled at his words, shaking your head
"It's ok, Joel" you cooed as you let him in,
He gave you a soft little smile, and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.
Joel Miller didn't smile just at anyone.
"water?" you asked, leading him to the kitchen.
"Uhm- sure"
His heart was damn near beating out of his chest already- for no fucking reason at all.
Well except the obvious one... you'd sucked his dick and he'd eaten you out three days ago- and you'd made it clear you wanted more.
Jesus Christ, he felt like a fourteen-year-old with his first crush.
You watched him as he sipped on the glass.
"So?" a soft smirk was caged between your teeth "Did you think about it?"
He damn near choked.
Which didn't make any sense, he was expecting this, he already knew you'd ask.
He cleared his throat, diverting his eyes from you "I-I have"
"And?"
You'd gotten closer, your expectant eyes studying every inch of his face
pleasepleasepleaseplease say yes
"Did- didn't you have something that needed fixing?"
Oh for fuck's sake
"joel" you called for him in what almost sounded like a plead.
"darlin' just... lemme fix your cabinet first"
This man was gonna be the goddamn death of you.
"ok"
__ __ __
As it turns out, in many different ways.
Who knew watching him fix something would turn out to be so fucking hot?
He'd rolled his shirt up so that his strong forearms and a glimpse of his beautiful bite-worthy biceps were showing, his hands moved so very expertly that they couldn't help but bring back memories of what those same fingers had done to you just a few days ago, and his face... he looked so hot when he was all in his head, concentrated only on the task before him-
or so you thought.
"You're gonna stare at me the whole time?"
A soft laugh escaped your lips
"don't mind me- just enjoying the view"
He huffed out a laugh as he went back to work, but you couldn't help but notice the fact he pushed his sleeves ever further up his arms, giving you more of a view of his delectable skin.
What a tease
__ __ __
"there we go" he said after some time, opening and closing the cabinet one final time to make sure "all done"
For the record, this time you hadn't even done it on purpose, the cabinet had actually broken. It was like fate was sending you a message.
You awakened from your daydreams as he stood up to his full height, and hopped off the stool you were sitting on to walk closer to him, noticing some dampness in your panties while doing so...
It wasn't your fault... he was the one looking way too hot doing such a simple task.
"thank you" You smiled up at him, your hands going to his chest,
He held his breath for a moment
"'s nothing babygirl"
"yeah? then... you think you could check my bedroom too?" you were biting your lip in a way that made your question take on a whole different meaning "to make sure nothing needs fixing y'know?"
"In your... bedroom?"
"yes, Joel- please" you added, with your best innocent doe eyes.
Which of course made him fold in a matter of seconds.
You'd taken on a different tactic. It was obvious at this point that the man was too shy and too unsure to give you an answer (or the one you wanted to hear anyway), which is why you needed to present him with the actual possibility right in front of him.
And yeah maybe it was manipulative, but fuck it if you didn't wanna feel the man inside of you.
The flashbacks of what he did to you on that bed filled his mind the moment he stepped into the room.
He needed to get a grip or he wouldn't be able to hide his growing bulge in a minute.
"Everything seems right"
"yeah? 'm not sure about the bed" you hummed, desperately hoping he would just go along with it "it makes a weird sound when I get on it"
He turned to you then, his eyes locking with yours for an infinite second.
"try" you said finally, nodding to the bed.
He watched you for a moment longer before, surprising you, he did it- he sat on the bed.
The mattress creaked underneath his weight, and you made quick work of strolling closer to him as he pressed his palms on the bed, checking for the inexistent "weird sound"
"it don't look like there's anythin' wron-" he looked up the moment your hands found his shoulders "Whatcha doin'? sweethear-"
You were sat on his lap before he could even finish the sentence.
"Joel" you spoke his name softly, as if it were a caress, your hands slowly moving up and down from his shoulders to his pecs, as you finally scooted closer to him so your core was right against the hardness in his jeans-
He inhaled sharply, his fingers curling on the bed.
"would you like to have sex with me or not?"
You accentuated your words with a slow roll of your hips, grinding onto him and making a soft groan build inside his throat
"this- this ain't really fair sugar"
A smirk pulled at your lips as you lowered your head to whisper in his ear "I never said I didn't play dirty, Mr. Miller"
Your right hand trailed lower, moving down his belly so slowly that Joel thought he might just lose his mind.
"You're y-young baby-"
Your hand had found his crotch, the outline of his dick fitting in your hand oh so perfectly.
"we've gone over this already Joel, I'm old enough" you purred, your lips leaving a peck just below his ear "old enough to do many many things"
He cursed under his breath
"I just... I don't understand"
A breathy laugh escaped you
"there's not much to understand really" you murmured "You're hot, and I like you, and I wanna get in your pants"
That earned you a chuckle
"and you're sure you won't regret this?" he asked, "you sure this is what you really want- that- that you don't want to give a boy your age a chance instead of me?"
You smiled as you looked up at him,
you'd never met a man so sweet
"Joel, I promise you I'm sure" you whispered "I promise you this is what I want, you are what I want"
Fucking damn it
How could he ever say no after that?
With those gentle eyes of yours looking at him, with your hand right over his cock...
"So?"
He was gonna think about the consequences tomorrow. Now- now there was only you.
"yes"
That single word sounded better than any song you'd ever heard.
yes
Your lips were on his before he could even think of changing his mind- and god did they feel like a dream.
His soft stubble grazed against your cheeks and upper lip, as you deepened the kiss, as he opened up to you, closing his eyes only after he'd taken you in, only after he could admire all that was happening to him for some godforsaken reason.
A growl rumbled from his chest when your core found his dick again, grinding onto it in a way, that combined with the way your tongue was tasting every inch of him, was making him see stars.
He didn't think he'd kissed like this in 30 years,
making out seemed like such a distant thing from him, he was much too old to do something like this, and yet... everything about you made him feel like a teenager all over again, so perhaps it was fitting-
and god he had forgotten how amazing it felt.
You started undoing his flannen, not even dreaming of breaking the kiss, and once you opened his shirt up, once his big strong chest was right there before you, you just had to look at it.
You leaned away, his lips chasing yours making you smile as your gaze lowered.
Jesus, he was the hottest man you'd ever seen.
Some hair and freckles adorned his pecs, his little belly was ever so cutely fighting against his jeans- his skin was soft beneath your palms as they explored every inch they could reach.
He was looking at you, watching your blow-out eyes, wondering what potion you'd drank to be this mesmerized by what he had to offer.
You smiled once you caught him, leaning closer to leave a quick kiss on his lips.
"take off your clothes"
You got off of him, and once he saw you get rid of your shirt, your boobs pushed together by a simple black bra that somehow, at the moment, seemed like the sexiest thing in the world, he rushed to follow suit, nearly tripping getting off his pants.
The moment he looked at you again, the world- the universe, it all went quiet.
You stood naked before him, a soft, perfect little thing, looking like a damn dream.
"babygirl" he could only breathe as you reached him again.
"What?" you laughed
"I-I don't even know"
You shook your head, grinning from ear to ear as he pressed his mouth on yours again.
He was already addicted.
In a haze, you found yourself on the bed, your body caged beneath his, his tongue fighting with yours, his hands all over- You almost had the urge to laugh at how desperate he seemed, how frantically he was touching every inch of you, exploring every piece of skin-
His hands were on your tits, fingers gently playing with your nipples, then on your belly, your waist, your ass, your thighs, until finally, he found your core, but before he had the time to fully reach it you'd switched up with him, straddling his lap as he laid flat on his back... only he couldn't keep away for even a second and he immediately sat up, grabbing your waist.
He couldn't even begin to complain that you'd already grabbed his cock, positioning it at your entrance.
You couldn't wait anymore- you needed him now.
"Wait-" he murmured, his breathing labored already "you sure you're... y'know ready?"
Oh my god, you swore you were gonna fall for him if he kept this shit up.
"Joel" you smiled, looking into his big brown eyes "I've been wet since you fixed the cabinet"
"I-" he blushed "You-you sure?"
You didn't answer him, you simply took one of his hands in yours and guided him to feel just how much you were telling the truth.
"Fuck"
"yeah" you smirked "that's just what you do to me, Mr. Miller"
Jesus fuck
Joel didn't think his cock had ever been so hard.
You didn't give him time to do or say anything- he'd gathered that's how you did things by now- as you slowly, oh so very slowly, started sinking onto him.
He was big, the kind of big you'd be feeling tomorrow morning. The stretch hurt just right, so overwhelmed by the unadulterated pleasure that it was barely there.
Soft little moaned gasps spilled from your lips with every inch added, your eyes were closed, only focusing on the extraordinary feeling as your nails clawed at Joel's chest.
Until, finally- you'd done it. You were fully sat on his cock, and while your eyelids fluttered open, you regained your ability to hear- to hear the curses leaving Joel's mouth between ragged breaths
"Jesus Christ- Jesus fucking Christ- Goddamnit"
His grip on your waist was so tight you were sure it was gonna leave a bruise... not that you were complaining.
"you ok?"
His eyes were shut close and creases of effort filled his forehead, while his chest went up and down as he desperately tried to breathe.
"Joel?"
He swallowed tightly, now breathing in through his nose before exhaling from his mouth.
"d-don't move"
You smiled as you promised "I won't"
God this was fucking embarrassing.
He'd spent three days training.
And yes he wasn't sure he would have said yes, but still, better safe than sorry- except for the fact it clearly hadn't worked.
He had spent three days fucking his own fist and trying to last as much as possible and he did do progress... but this... this was fucking nothing like what he'd felt in the last twenty years.
He was so fucked
"I-I'm sorry" he gritted out, sounding almost defeated "I- I haven't done this in a long time darlin'"
"And you... you feel so fuckin' good- fuck"
Your walls had inadvertently squeezed around him at his words, making a groan rumble in his chest.
"You have nothing to apologize for Joel"
he would have told you that your voice was making everything worse if he weren't so preoccupied with trying to calm his dick down.
"take all the time you need"
And so he did, his eyes remained closed as he breathed through the initial shock, until finally, after what felt like an eternity, he was back.
He had to stifle a moan once he opened his eyes back up.
There you were, your beautiful eyes trained on his with such gentleness and care that it made where his gaze fell to feel even more sinful.
Your boobs were barely touching his chest, and yet they could have been in his face for the effect they had on him- his hands were on your waist, holding onto your soft flesh, your thighs were straddling his lap, giving him no choice but to finally look between your bodies, where you two connected.
"Darlin'" he murmured, hypnotized
You smiled, watching him admiring you in silence
"You look..."
Every word that came to mind wasn't enough, you were otherwordly, you were perfection... so he just settled on the simplest, and perhaps truest of them all.
"you're beautiful"
Your cheeks burned with heat as his gaze came back to yours.
"so are you, Joel"
And that was that.
His lips found yours again, and you couldn't stop your hips as they started moving, rocking back and forth and bringing little waves of ecstasy to your core.
A desperate moan spilled from yours to Joel's mouth as he grabbed the back of your head, forcing you into an even deeper kiss as he started following your movements.
Your hands went to the back of his neck, grabbing at the hair at the nape of it as you finally started bouncing on his dick, and god- god it was even better than you could have ever imagined
The loudest growl sounded from his throat as you worked yourself up and down on his shaft.
He was in another universe, his actions were only reflexes as the hand not tangled in your hair found your tits and then your ass, grabbing at it with tenderness and need.
"Oh Joel" you cried, his dick filling you up better than anything ever before.
You could quite literally feel him in your stomach, every little vein and ridge of skin creating a permanent dent inside of you that only he was ever gonna be able to fill.
"sweetheart- fuck" he groaned on his own, your breaths mixing as you ghosted each other's mouths, his eyes raking over your body and face, while yours couldn't help but roll to the back of your head as his manhood hit a particularly good spot.
"You feel so- good Joel" you whimpered mindlessly, now quickening your pace, desperation taking over you completely.
the sound of him entering your drenched core mixed with the bed creaking underneath you as you drove yourself closer and closer to heaven.
The sound of his name falling from your lips was something that filled Joel's chest with an indescribable feeling, he felt on top of the word, and at the same time... at the same time he wished it had never left your mouth because it was now forever imprinted in his brain, and he knew nothing was ever gonna compare to it.
Oh and also- also it was making his little lasting problem real fucking hard to control.
But he was nothing if not a gentleman,
You were gonna come, he wasn't gonna have it any other way.
His hand lowered down your belly as you kept chasing your release, looking like a damn glimpse of paradise, until his thumb found your clit.
"Oh fuck" you moaned, your eyes snapping open to look at him- a dark glaze of lust shading your iris.
Joel realized too late that he hadn't taken into account how fucking tight you'd get, and was now really paying the consequences.
Plus when you looked at him like that... maybe just this one time he could not be a gentleman- I mean it's not like he had much choice, he was trying his hardest but- shit
"darlin'" he mumbled, his thumb circling your bud "w-where do ya- where do ya want it?"
You moaned louder just at the thought of him coming
"Inside"
It wasn't even a question
"N-no sweetheart I-I shouldn-"
"Joel" you interrupted him, your lips grazing his as you talked, your grip on his hair tightening "I want you to fill me up until I can feel you leaking out of me for days"
Good Christ and heaven
"Fuck me" he cursed, all his strength going on not coming right there and then "Darlin' please- tell me you're close"
You were already seeing stars as he spoke
"I'm close, baby- oh fuck" you cried "Joel!"
A tsunami of lust-filled pleasure coursed through your veins as your orgasm hit like a damn truck.
You couldn't even remember your name as you screamed his own into the thick air, as you moaned and cried and spasmed around him, feeling him do exactly what you'd asked- filling you up to the very brim.
He'd started coming the moment you did- he couldn't do anything about it, it was just unadulterated perfection-
His head fell between your neck and shoulders as groaned like a man possessed,
until finally, after a good three minutes, you were both back to the land of the living.
He looked twenty years younger when he looked at you again, and you- you looked like the most beautiful woman on earth.
A soft smile pulled at your lips, and you couldn't help but ask "How long before we can do it again?"
And fuck him, but his age didn't matter, with those eyes of yours, it might very well be minutes.
@kluvspedro @bluebiyou @casssiopeia @bean-is-reading @millerispunk @i-cant-stfu
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fluff#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#sub!Joel#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#sub joel miller#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller imagine#joel miller blurb#smut#joel miller angst#fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#the last of us hbo#tlou hbo
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Bonded
âYou didnât think that having Jungkook save you from an abusive arranged marriage by marking you would mean that you would have to marry him instead. Yet here you are. Bonded to him for life, with his father threatening to ban you if you fuck it up and with your marriage night one step away. It wouldnât be that scary if you werenât aware that his family doesnât bond with omegas.â
- Sequel to Alpha -
Pairing: Alpha!Jungkook x f. omega!Reader
Genre: Werewolves!AU, forced marriage!AU, childhood best friends to lovers!AU, marriage night!AU, Angst, Romance, SMUT
Warnings: Hard Dom!Jungkook, happy sub!Reader, size & strength kink, he is a lot taller than her, angst & misunderstandings in the beginning, poor woman gets threatened left and right at her own bonding party, please protect her, Kook is hurt by her at first but the problem gets solved hihi, her brother is a dick tbfh, insanely protective!Jungkook, whipped Alpha in loveeee, lots of kisses and touches, he is really soft with her & just a lil nervous, he is so lethal tbfh no wonder she gets turned on by him so easily bahaha, kissing & biting of her scent spots, the spots are on her neck and her tits and her inner thighs, he accidentally stimulates them long enough that she goes into heat, which makes him go into his ruts <3, this is a really passionate bonding night for sureeee, intense and hungry nipple sucking, her poor omega tits swell and produce sweet liquid (not milk just idk omega liquid lmaloaooa listen I made this up as I was going and it's hot), Jungkook eats it upppp, sooooo much slick, lots of drool and tears hihih, rough penetrative sex with his big alpha cock, knotting, lots of orgasms for both, breeding with his hot cum mhmh, listen he fucks her roughly while he is knotted which means she repeatedly gets penetrated by his knot, she likes it cause she is so into him, stimulation of her cervix which feels really good for an omega, she is in heaven with him fr, he never felt as good before as well, sex in missionary then in mating press and then just tangled up in a mess of limbs, praise, hand holding, he calls her "baby" & "my love" & "princess", the cuddliest and safest and giggliest aftercare, they're not aware of it yet but they're true mates <3, oh yeah! they break the bed
Wordcount: 15.8k
a/n: YOU HOES (affectionately) ASKED FOR IT AND THIS HOE (me, derogatory) LISTENED!!! I FUCKING LISTENED!!! AND I AGREED!! We need more Alpha!Kook in our life and on this blog. This is the hottest smut ever like (tmi but) i need to jerk it afterwards, which rarely happens with my smut HFAHDSFH i need him to be my alpha husband and rearrange my guts daily tbfh đ have fun besties, i hope this is a worthy enough sequel to the first part đŠđ ps: for all you omegaverse veterans, i'm still a newbie to this AU and this story is MY interpretation of the AU hehe any rule changes are done intentional to my comfort levels <3
If you knew that agreeing to Jungkookâs plan would mean This, perhaps you never would have agreed. Perhaps if the night hadnât been so stormy and you so hopeless, you wouldnât have said yes.Â
But you did and now you are here. In front of the entire pack, in a long dress as your packâs priest is talking about eternal faithfulness. You knew that being marked by an alpha would mean that you had to be with him, but didnât think it would mean This.Â
Your family is in the audience. First row, next to Jungkookâs family. Your brother stares at you with a look you canât quite make out. You still canât really stand his face. Jungkookâs father seems displeased and you donât blame him. The little stunt you pulled made alpha Urquard furious and it was Jungkookâs father who had to take care of it. He wanted to trade another omega at first, but Jungkook stopped him before that could happen. You didnât get to see Jungkook for two whole days after this incident and when he came back, his upper lip was chipped and he didnât want to talk about what happened.Â
âUrquardâs not gonna bother our pack again. Thatâs all you need to knowâ, he told you tiredly while you tried to nurse his lip. âAnd thereâs something else. Itâs about usâ, he then continued.
âAbout us? What about us?â
âIf we wanna keep living here, we have to do something.â
âWhat do we have to do?â
âAnd with this kiss, I may pronounce you husband and wifeâ, the priest says and howls. The rest of the pack follows. Everyone, except Jungkookâs father who is staring holes into you darkly. It is custom for werewolves to howl for a newly bonded couple. It is meant to bring luck and happiness into the marriage. Having the pack alpha refuse this ritual is not a good sign.Â
You gulp down the heavy lump in your throat, shifting your nervous eyes to Jungkook. He seems nervous too, clasping your clammy hands. He closes the distance. Thankfully the howls are loud enough to mask your voices.
âHe isnât-â
âI know. Ignore him. Heâs a stubborn idiot.â Jungkook cups your cheek. âCan I kiss you?âÂ
You hesitate, feeling dizzy from lack of oxygen in your lungs. His father isnât howling. What if Jungkook doesnât want this bond either? If you knew that your night with him would end in marriage, maybe you wouldnât have said yes to him. He wants to kiss you, doesnât he? His eyes are studying your lips. You want to kiss him too, but it is so scary to go for it. What if he doesnât want this bond? You hesitate and hesitate. As a matter of fact, you hesitate long enough for the howls to die down.Â
Heavy, thick silence follows. The pack stares. The priest stares. Jungkookâs father stares. Jungkook himself stares.
âHey uhm, this is the part where you kiss meâ, he whispers.Â
âI knowâ, you whisper back.
The priest clears his throat. Jungkook licks his lips nervously, still waiting for your consent. Someone in the audience coughs.
If you knew that agreeing to Jungkookâs plan would lead to having to bond with him, perhaps you never would have agreed. He promised you that you would just have to pretend, that you wouldnât have to be with him if you didnât want to and yet here you are. You are now officially his mate. Well, not until you kissed him. You really want to kiss him, but itâs so scary.Â
âYou have to kiss for the bond to be sealedâ, the priest whispers as well.Â
You glance at the audience. Your family seems nervous. Jungkookâs father seems hopeful but also very angry. You look at Jungkook, whose eyes have darkened slightly.
âIt seems that the bond is invali-â, the priest tries to announce loudly, but before he can finish his sentence, Jungkook silences him by pulling you into the kiss.Â
You gasp, eyes wide open and body frozen. His big hand is on the back of your head, keeping you close. The priest sees it as a sign and begins the howling again. It fills the wedding house, almost sounding like melodies of joy. But you feel sick to the stomach. You are mated for life. Jungkook made sure of it and you made sure of how your marriage will be because you hesitated. You can see it in his eyes once he pulls back and they are as cold as ice. Holy fuck, you messed up.
The iciness of his stare continues long into the festivities. It is the duty of the newly bonded couple to open the dance floor with a dance. You and Jungkook have to wait behind a curtain to be called to the floor. You arrive a little later than him because your mother wanted to talk to you before that. Something about being a good mate to him. You didnât really listen because she pissed you off.Â
Jungkook sends you an icy glare, tonguing his cheek.
âYouâ, you stomp to him. Your mother made you angry enough that you feel the need to take it out on him.Â
He watches you with a cocked up brow. You shove at his chest. He doesnât budge, but stares with widened eyes.Â
âHow dare you force the kiss onto me like this. You took away my choiceâ, you hiss.
âTch.â
âDonât tch me. You said that it was my choice. You forced me.â
He tenses his jaw, looking anywhere but you. You shove him again with no chance of moving him.Â
âDid you hear me?â
âI donât know if you already forgot the five prior conversations we had, but if we didnât bond today, my dad would have banished us both. I made sure that this wouldnât happenâ, he answers you snappishly.
âThis still doesnât give you the right to kiss me like thisâ, you throw back, shoving at his chest.
He doesnât budge, taking your hands to stop you from shoving him again. His grip is strong and possessive, but doesnât hurt.Â
âThe priest was gonna renounce our bond. I had to act fastâ, he hisses.
âYeah well, I didnât want to be forced into it.â
âI know that by nowâ, Jungkook spits and swipes your hands away, turning a cold shoulder to you. He crosses his arms in front of his chest so tightly it looks as if he is trying to hug himself.
âI want an apology for itâ, you insist.
âIâm sorry.âÂ
You falter for a moment, not having expected it.Â
âIâm sorry, okay? Just. Drop it now, please.â
âDrop it? Excuse me?âÂ
Jungkook turns his head away.
âLook at me when Iâm talking to you.â
No eye contact.
âJungkook?âÂ
âIâm done talking to youâ, he grumbles.
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?âÂ
âIt means that you hurt me.â
You gawk at him, holding your breath. He turns to you, meeting your eyes with such urgency it feels as if he is trying to drown you in the connection.
âAll this talk about not wanting me to hold back. You told me not to stop telling you that youâre mine. Was it just empty talk?â he asks.
His heartbroken scent makes you feel heavy in your chest.Â
âWhat? I, I donât- what?â you stutter.
âDid it ever mean something to you?âÂ
âKook, I-â
âDonât call me thatâ, he hisses and steps closer. The thing is, however, that you donât feel the instinctive need to step back. He doesnât feel dangerous to you. Not because he isnât scary, because he definitely is, but because you know for a fact that he wouldnât hurt you. âDonât call me that after what you did today.â
You gulp. He puts his hand over his heart, eyes showing how hurt he feels. His voice quivers as he speaks.
âYou made me have my first knot ever. You, you made me feel so good that I bit you. You had your first knotting orgasm through me. I was fucking alive inside youâ, he say and puts his other hand on your stomach where you once allowed him to feel himself in you.Â
You gasp and tense at the touch, putting your hand over hisâ. His touch seeps into you, reminding you how it was to carry his warmth inside you. Everything inside you wants him within the first touch. The connection is so intense that you draw closer to him instinctively.
âI thought that it meant something to you too. So why did you hesitate?â he stresses, eyes racing between yours.
âI donât know.â
âYou donât know?â Jungkook pulls his hand away from your stomach. âWow, okay.â
âKook, please.â
âForget it. Letâs just get it over withâ, he hisses and a second later, the curtains open and you have to pretend to be a happy couple.
He takes your hand, leading you to the dance floor while howls and claps cheer you on. He positions you and him in the middle of the dance floor, looking down at you with a tightened face.Â
The music starts. So does the dance.Â
Jungkook leads it, you follow. He holds you so close. He looks so deeply into your eyes. To anyone else it must seem as if he canât get enough of his wife, but you are close enough to him that you know his true feelings. He wants this stupid dance to end as quickly as possible.Â
You canât bear to look up at him any longer, lowering your eyes.
âDonât. Look up.âÂ
You obey instinctively.
âYouâve already fucked up the kiss, donât fuck up the dance as well.âÂ
âIâm sorry.âÂ
âItâs already a little too late for that, isnât it?â he says and leans you back as part of the dance. For just a second you see the world upside down before he lifts you again, holding you against his chest as he twirls over the dance floor with you. It makes your dress dance with you and blurs the world around you. He furrows his brows.
âDid it ever mean anything to you?â he asks.Â
âI donât know.â
âYes or no? Itâs a simple answer.â
âI was desperate and I-â
âWow.âÂ
âI, I just meant that I donât know if it meant what it meant to you.â
âStop talking, seriously.â
You gulp. Jungkook looks away.Â
âYou have to look at meâ, you whisper panickedly.
âDonât worry, the dance is already fuckedâ, Jungkook says and coincidentally enough, the music switches just this moment. The rest of the pack fills the dance floor, but you barely notice them.
Jungkook steps back and leaves you in the middle of the dance floor. Your chest feels tight. You didnât want it to come to this. Of course it meant something to you, but he cornered you right now and you tend to say the wrong things under pressure. You didnât want to give him a dishonest answer, but didnât have the full answer ready yet. Oh god, this isnât what you wanted to happen.
Sudden fear fills you. You know instantly that his father is next to you. You force yourself to look at him, holding your breath.
âRuin this bond, you and your family can look for a new pack. Understood?â
You nod your head fearfully.
âSpeak up!âÂ
âYes! Understood!âÂ
âThatâs better. Fucking, bratty omega. Just because my son canât keep his dick in his pants. Iâll teach him how to discipline you, be sure of thatâ, he says with a deadly glare and turns his back to you, leaving you in the middle of the dance floor.
You bite back tears.Â
Alcohol. You need to forget this night. Yes, thatâs the solution.
Werewolf bonding parties arenât that different from human wedding parties. There is good music, delicious food, lots of dancing and even more laughter. There is also, of course, the occasional friendly fighting between two wolves, which may seem scary to a human but is perfectly normal to your species. There is even a saying that if a bonding party doesnât have friendly fighting, the bond will not last. A part of you had hoped that your party would be such a party just so it wouldnât be you who ruins the marriage and therefore has to carry the alphaâs wrath. But your wish wasnât granted the moment you watched Yoongi and Hoseok start a friendly wrestling march next to the margaritas bar.
Speaking of margaritas, you are drunk on them by now. Way too drunk, barely able to stand on two feet.Â
âFuck, I need airâ, you get out and turn to leave. You run your eyes over the crowd. Your family is by their table, your brother follows you with his eyes. You must be way too drunk because for a second it felt as if he was hunting you with them. You break contact, spotting Jungkook next. He is talking to one of the betas, Seokjin. He also seems terribly drunk. You look away quickly, stumbling past him on your way outside. He follows you with his eyes as you do, but you are too drunk to notice.
The night is cold. A welcome change to the stuffy air inside. Tonight is a new moon. You look up at the moonless sky. Weddings under a new moon mean that they will last long. Thatâs what the legends say. The new life together starts with the new cycle of the moon. First the fighting, now this. Your marriage seriously wants to last, doesnât it?
You stumble to a quiet corner, resting against the wall. The music is blurred behind a veil of alcohol and the thick walls of the venue.
The thing is, itâs not that you had to bond with Jungkook which upsets you so much. It is the fact that it had to happen under such circumstances. You are sure that if he didnât have to mark you in order to save your life, he would have never even thought about taking you as a mate. You know how his family thinks. A wolf with the alpha gen should mate with another wolf with the alpha gen. Bonding with an omega isnât a thing in Jungkookâs family. And this is what scares you. You are an omega in a family of alphas and his father seems to fucking hate it. What if Jungkook hates it too? He talked about keeping you safe and not wanting to let you go, but he probably didnât think that he would have to mate with you. He was probably high on his afterglow and talked without thinking.
âUrghâ, you let out, grinding your fangs.Â
But then, why was he so upset that you hesitated? Was it because he wanted to own you as quickly as possible? But he smelled heartbroken. Someone who is merely upset about not owning you wouldnât smell like this. This is confusing you so much.Â
âWho knew that you would be married before me.âÂ
You turn your head to your brother. You must be really drunk because his eyes still seem so different.
âItâs crazy to imagine that you came back and got bondedâ, he says.Â
âOnly because you fucked up and I almost had to die for it. Otherwise, Jungkook would have never had to step in and I would have never had to bond with himâ, you throw back.
Your brother studies you with furrowed brows.
âLook, I said that Iâm sorry and I am. It was an accident. I thought that she was a deer.â
âTch, sure. I know you were into her. I watched you sneak away sometimes to see her. You got jealous and decided to kill her because you couldnât bear the thought that she was to be with someone else. Admit itâ, you challenge him because you know that it was bullshit. Your brother would never kill someone out of jealousy.Â
Something changes in your brotherâs face, however. Your brother disappears, the face of an ice cold killer stares back at you. The face of a killer who killed before and who would do it again. He steps closer and you instinctively step back. Fear and the desire to flee overcomes you. It is difficult however when he has you cornered. It is a dark corner and there are no people around.
âWhat, what are you doing? You, you are scaryâ, you stutter.
âYou know, you were never supposed to come back.â
âWhat?â
âIf I were you, Iâd be careful with your words from now onâ, he warns, dragging the back of his hand down your face, âare we understood, sister?âÂ
You whimper instinctively, avoiding his eyes. His touch feels like sandpaper on your skin. He comes closer. You are so scared.Â
âAre we under-â, he stumbles back as a strong hand tugs him away from you. It is so rough in fact that he squeaks against his will.
âDo we have a problem here?â Jungkook growls, stepping between you and your brother. He is huffing his air, torso stretching the fabric of his suit because his protectiveness is making his body grow. Your brother tries to take a step closer, but instantly stops with just one deep growl of Jungkook.Â
Your brother looks at you for a brief moment. The person you once knew is gone from his eyes.Â
âI was already leavingâ, he presses out and turns his back to leave. He knows better than to pick a fight with Jungkook. He gets as far as one step before the latter pulls him back.Â
He tries to fight him in reaction, but gives up quickly when Jungkook renders him useless with a strong grip on his chin. His claws dimple his skin, threatening to break through. He is towering over your brother by now.Â
âYou are the one who is going to start picking his words carefully from now on. She is under my protection now. Is that clear?â
âIs this supposed to scare me?â
âDonât test me.â Jungkook hisses, shaking him by his chin. âIâll let you go tonight because youâre her brother and I donât wanna break her heart, but you threaten her again and youâre dead. Are we understood?â he snarls his words, eyes dangerously golden and sharp fangs on full display.
âYesâ, your brother croaks out.
âSpeak up!â Jungkook barks, shaking him.
âYes! Iâm sorry, yes!âÂ
âGood. Now leave, youâre ruining my wifeâs moodâ, Jungkook growls and pushes him away.Â
The man, who was once your brother, stumbles back and runs off with his tail tucked between his legs.
Jungkook stares him down until he truly left and only then, he turns to you. He puts his hands on your upper arms, touching you so gently one might never know how roughly he handled your brother seconds ago. His features are clouded over with worry. His body is smaller again and his muscles shrunk back to their relaxed size.
âAre you okay? Did he hurt you?â he asks, studying you worriedly.
You shake your head, gasping for air in small, helpless breaths.Â
âHey, sshhh youâre okay now. Youâre okayâ, he says, hugging you against his chest. One hand is on your back, the other on the back of your head. The calming scent of him engulfs you, masking your own frightened scent.
âPeople need to stop threatening me tonightâ, you get out, sobbing into him.
âYouâre okay, baby. Youâre okayâ, he keeps repeating the words, placing little kisses all over the crown of your head.
The fight of earlier feels far away to both of you. Especially to him.
It wasnât long after you stumbled past him, that he followed you outside. At first he followed you with the intent of confronting you again, but then he saw that you were talking to your brother and he stayed back. Because of his heightened senses, he heard everything of your conversation with him. He also smelled your fear even before hearing your whimper and it drove up his desire to protect you to such levels that he has to tremble now that he finally holds you safe and sound.Â
âYouâre okay. Iâm here now. Iâm here.â
You tilt your head up, meeting his eyes.
âThis wasnât my brother anymore.â
âI know, Iâm sorryâ, he says, wiping your tears.
âHe murdered her. Kook, he is a murderer.â
âI heard everything. Iâll take care of it. I promise.â
âHe looked at me as if he wanted to kill me too.â
âI wouldnât have let him. Heâd have been dead if he tried.â
âKookâ, you get out and hide away in his chest.
You smell so sad and heartbroken and scared. Jungkook feels parts of his body cramp from how much he trembles. He wants to protect you more than he already does. It is driving him insane that he canât do more for you.
âJungkook, I wanna go home but I donâtâŚâ Your sad scent reaches its peak as tears roll down your cheeks. âI donât even know where that is anymoreâ, you press out and sob.Â
âHey no, donât cry. Iâll take you homeâ, Jungkook says and puts his arm around you to lead you away from the venue. You let your head fall against him, crying loudly because everything is just a lot for you.Â
âDo we have to tell anyone? Can we just leave? What if they ask questions? I donât know what to do anymore, I donât-â
âHey, everything is gonna be okay. Weâre the bridal couple, theyâll just have to accept the fact that we left early.â
You nod your head in understanding. You are so glad that he took control right now. You would have been lost and overwhelmed without him.
You walk home side by side. It happens for comfort reasons that, after a while, you and he stop hugging so close. You are in nothing but your dress and he is in nothing but his suit. The streets are empty and quiet because the entire pack is currently at your wedding party.Â
You already walked long enough that you managed to calm down from the initial shock. It is an unspoken truth between you and him that you donât want to talk about what happened. This means, however, that your walk is silent and that feels really awkward.
The town you grew up in hasnât changed much ever since you were a child. The same trees still grow along the same streets, except that they are a lot taller these days. The same houses are still home to the same people and bonding nights are still held in the townâs sports hall.Â
Said sports hall is still close to the playground and the way home still leads through it.Â
You and Jungkook slow down as you walk down a metaphorical memory lane. You scraped your knee on the slide when you were eight and he had to blow on it to make it better. Jungkook sprained his ankle jumping off the swing when he was nine and you had to hold his hand as his mother rubbed it better again. Under the weeping willow, you and your friends played the silly little dares and you had your first kiss with him.Â
You look away from the tree, meeting Jungkookâs eyes. He looked at it as well. You turn your head away, feeling your throat tighten in panic. Jungkook feels his heart twist in reaction. The better voice in him says not to dwell on it, the love drunk idiot in him tells him to fight for it. He wins in the end.Â
âWanna sit on the swings?â he suggests.
âAnd do what?âÂ
âI donât know. Swing? Sober up a little?â
You contemplate for a second, nodding your head in the end.Â
You werenât even aware of how much you needed to sit until you are on the swing, stretching out your legs. You hate heels. Theyâre the worst shoes ever invented. You swing back and forth slowly, Jungkook does the same. This is still the same swing set you and he played on twenty years ago. The chains still leave this weird metallic smell on your hands and the rusty hinges seem to creak even more these days. You look up at the sky. The stars are so clear without the moon hiding them in her shine. You know this view all too well. In your left vision there are some branches of a maple tree and in the right a electrical pole is peaking at you. The view is familiar to you because twenty years ago, you and Jungkook sat at the same swing in the same order like you do today.Â
You dare to glance at him. He is looking at the sky, unaware of your eyes on him. His face is relaxed, his lips slightly parted in awe of the vast universe. His eyes are the darkest brown right now, reflecting the stars. The street lights behind him illuminate the edges of his silhouette, glimmering in parts of his dark hair as well. He is so beautiful when he thinks that no one is looking.Â
To think that you subconsciously chose the same swing even after all these years. He broke your heart like this fifteen years ago and now you are back, bonded. Your heart feels heavy. You shouldnât have hesitated. You donât know how Jungkook feels about this bond, but you get a feeling that you shouldnât have hesitated.Â
A gust of wind sweeps through the playground and makes you shiver. Your teeth clatter and you wrap your arms around yourself to rub your freezing skin. He looks at you, studying you.
âAre you cold?â he asks.Â
âItâs fine. I just wasnât planning on being outside for so long. I only wanted to catch some air for a bit. Iâm kinda drunk.â
Jungkook stands up from his swing.
You watch him, confused.
He shrugs off his suit jacket and closes the distance to put it over your shoulders. It is warmed up from him, instantly stilling your shivers. It also smells like him, making you just a little droopy. He hovers his hands over your shoulders because he doesnât know if you want his touch, talking in a soft voice.Â
âIs this better?âÂ
âYeah, thanksâ, you whisper, feeling your heart race.Â
âGood. Keep it. Iâm too hot anywayâ, he says and leaves your side to sit down next to you.
He swings back and forth gently, watching some leaves dance on the ground as the wind carries them. Now is the perfect opportunity to talk, but he feels mute. He doesnât want to fuck it up. Or perhaps he just doesnât want to get hurt again.Â
He dances his eyes over the playground, reminiscing on all the memories he shares with you here. You and he could have been so right and then his father fucked him up. Jungkook forces down the heavy lump in his throat.
âWhatâs wrong?âÂ
He looks at you with widened eyes.
âWhat do you mean?âÂ
âIâm an omega. I can smell when people around me are upset.â
âAh. I donât know. I guess, just thinking of old stuffâ, he says and rubs the side of his neck.Â
âYeah. Lots of memories hereâ, you say and sigh.
Jungkook sees it as his cue to ask you what he had planned to ask you before he witnessed you with your brother instead.Â
âWhy did you hesitate?â
You almost fall off the swing in shock. Jungkook takes your hand, providing you with support. He feels vast of air when you instinctively squeeze him back and intertwine your fingers deeper. There they are again. Those mixed signals. You say one thing, but do the other. You do another thing, but say the complete opposite. Jungkook can barely take the confusion anymore, repeating his question again.Â
âI get it that you were nervous, but it looked like you didnât want to kiss me at all. Why?â
âI justâŚâ, you pull your hand back, swinging gently to soothe yourself.
Jungkook swings as well, looking at you.Â
âAll of this is a lot for me. I went from a normal woman to a sex slave by a snatch to an omega marked, to a wife in the span of two weeks. This is a lot to work through.â
âYeah, when you put it like this, it really is.â
âI didnât think that our little stunt in the shed would lead to this.â
âYeah honestly, neither did I. I thought that they would want us to date for a little and thatâs it.â
âYeahâ, you agree and glance at him. âIâm scared that you are only doing this because your dad forced you. Thatâs why I hesitated. I saw the way he looked at me.â
âDonât think about him. He is old and unhappy. He didnât force me. Not when IâŚI dreamt of having you as my wife ever since Iâve known you.â
âWhat?â
You stop swinging. Jungkook stops as well, turning with the swing to face you.
âI think thatâs why I kissed you. The priest wanted to announce that itâs invalid and I panicked and went in. I just needed to know that this wouldnât be lost forever.â
âOh my god, you dreamed of bonding with me?â you press out, eyes full of emotions.
âEver since Iâve known you. Well, you know, ever since I knew what bonding meant. I always wanted it to be with you.â
âKookâŚâ
He rests his head against the metal chain, reaching his hands out for you. You turn with your swing and take his hands, feeling your pulse in your neck because of how high he raises it. His thumbs draw hearts on your skin, his eyes are so soft.
âYeah, I guess itâs out there nowâ, he says, laughing softly.
âIt isâ, you whisper and squeeze his hands.
Jungkook squeezes them right back, smiling with his eyes before it washes over his lips as well.Â
âI canât believe youâre telling me this on the same swing set you best friend broke up with me when we were twelve.âÂ
He laughs, lifting his brows for it. Itâs such a cute laugh, making you laugh with him.Â
âCorrection, where I was forced to best friend break up with you âcause my dad is a control freak.âÂ
âRight. Iâm sorry that your dad sucks.âÂ
"Yeah, I guess I got used to it. Heâs my dad, thatâs how he is.âÂ
âIâm still sorry.â
âThanks.â Jungkook says and lets go of your hands to twirl back to the front. He takes a deep breath and stands up.
âWhere are you going?â
âIf I remember correctly, you always loved the swing the most.âÂ
âI did, but whatâs that got to do with anything?â
He walks behind you and puts his hands on the chain of the swing.Â
âHold on tight.âÂ
âHuh? Oh!âÂ
He pushes you, making you swing back and forth. You squeal, having to laugh afterwards. Jungkook snickers with you, pushing you a second time to make you swing higher. Your shared laughter dances through the playground and in this short moment in lifeâs series of moments, you and he feel like kids again. There are no responsibilities lingering in the back of your heads, no fears of the future, no stresses of past days nor dreams ruined by reality. You and he are twelve again, using the swings after a long day of playing adventurers in the forests. The stars shine brighter and the wind doesnât feel that cold anymore. You are alive again, flying to the very stars with each push Jungkook gives you.Â
âNot too high please, Iâll get scaredâ, you squeal, feeling tears of laughter run down your cheeks.Â
âDonât worry, I wonât push you too high. I never did, remember?âÂ
You and he talk as he continues to push you on the swing.Â
âIf I remember correctly, you sometimes pushed me way too high because you were a gremlin like that.â
âA gremlin? Wow, okayâ, he laughs and pushes you extra hard as playful revenge.
âHey! No, itâs too high!â you squeak, laughing way too much.
Jungkook does it again.
âKook please! Iâm gonna fall, ah!âÂ
And it happens. Your drunk ass falls off the swing. You squeal, preparing for impact which never comes. Instead he catches you in his strong arms, looking down at you with protective, caring eyes.
âAre you okay?â he whispers.
âYeah, thanksâ, you whisper, watching his lips move. You giggle, dropping your head on his shoulder, âfuck, Iâm too clumsy for this.âÂ
âHah, yeah.â
Jungkook noticed that you looked at his lips. For just a second, he wanted to kiss you. In the end, he didnât. He wonât ever kiss you again without your consent.Â
He sets you down gently, holding both your hands against his chest. You look up at him, feeling a little robbed of air. His eyes race between yours as if he trying to build connection between your souls with just one look.
âI promise to be a good husband to you. No harm shall ever come to you through my hands and if I should ever break this promise, it is your right to strike me down. You have my body as protection and my heart to find a home in, ___. You always have and you always will.â
âYou keep saying that. Does it mean..?â
âIt does. It means that I love you and that Iâll do anything to make you happy.â He exhales shakily. âI know that you donât feel the same and Iâm sorry again that I kissed you. Please, can you forgive-âÂ
You put your finger on his lips, silencing him. He whimpers a little because of it.
âCan I say something now? Please?âÂ
âOf courseâ, he says and steps back, fumbling with his own hands nervously.Â
âIâm not mad at you anymore that you kissed me. I, I was planning to kiss you, I was. I just, I saw your dad and he wasnât howling and then I thought that weâre only in this situation because you had to save me. And I panicked and I was scared that weâd regret it and yeah.âÂ
He nods his head in understanding, lowering his eyes sadly. You take his hand.
âIt meant something to me too.âÂ
He meets your emotional eyes, feeling emotional himself.
âIt meant something to me, maybe not the same as it did to you but it did mean something to me. I wanted to tell you this, but didnât know how. I get nervous when Iâm cornered and I forget my words and then say dumb stuff.â
âI get it. Iâm sorry that I cornered you. I guess I have the tendency to be pushy when Iâm nervous. I shouldnât have cornered you, Iâm sorry.â
âYeah well, I should have said something. I liked what we did in the shed and it meant something to me.â You put his hand on your stomach. âYou were alive inside me and it was the best feeling I ever experienced.â
Jungkook sighs your name, instinctively drawing closer to you.
âBut we also barely know each other as adults. What if we realize that weâre not right as mates once we get to know each other?âÂ
âI donât think that will happen. Iâm still the same than I was before, just older.âÂ
âYouâre an alpha these days.â
âI am and Iâll use this status to provide for you and to keep you safe. I promise.âÂ
âReally?â you whisper, looking up at him with those same puppy eyes you had in the shed.Â
Jungkook feels weak in the knees. Those eyes are lethal to him.
âYes, really. All I want is someone to provide for, someone to care for and protect. And for that someone to be you. I just. I wanna keep you safe, ___â, he says.
âOhâ, you let out and exhales shakily.
âMhm, yeahâ, he breathes and brushes the back of his fingers down your temple.
âButâ, you begin.
âYes?â
âBut not too much. I donât want you to get hurtâ, you say and trace his upper lip. The cut healed by now, but the memory of how it looked is still in your mind. Jungkook chases your touch, closing his fingers around your wrists. He holds you tenderly, tracing the spots most sensitive with his thumbs.Â
âAlright, not too muchâ, he whispers, smiling softly.Â
You share silence, looking at the other. Jungkook is the one to break it.Â
âWeâll get to know each other again and itâs gonna be nice. I want to make this workâ, he whispers.
âI wanna make it work too. Not for the sake of my safety or anything, but because I wanna love you too.âÂ
âYou do?âÂ
You nod your head.
Jungkook exhales shakily, closing the distance for a kiss. He stops just a breath away.
âCan I kiss you?â he asks.
You give him your answer by erasing the remaining distance, connecting your lips with hisâ. His knees buckle, his arms instantly fall around you to hold you close. The world around you seems non-existent as your lips are lost in the kind of kiss a bonded couple should exchange. It is epic. Jungkook feels so alive. He knows that if he tried hard enough, he could touch the stars.Â
You feel the same. This kiss is your reminder that whatever you and he have is out of your control. It is a bond made by fate, formed under a new moon. This is how you felt in the shed when he was alive inside you.Â
Those feelings are heightened because of the alcohol, forcing you closer to him. Which makes him lose control for just a second, ending in you pressed up against the swing set post and with his hand on your lower back.Â
It knocks out a soft moan from you. Jungkook answers it in a deep purr, sliding his right hand to your cheek to tilt your head higher. He sucks on your lower lip, ending it with a gentle bite.
The effect is instant for you. Slick begins to gather between your legs, your head gets droopy and everything inside you screams at you to give yourself to him.
Breathing shakily, you break the kiss. He stays close, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes and parted lips.
âOh my godâ, you whisper, tracing your own lips. Theyâre tingling from what he did.
âYeah. Right?â he agrees, scrunching his nose and stubbing your temple with his forehead in a gesture of adoration. âWhoâd have known that weâd kiss like this hereâ, he says, gazing at you.
Your eyes soften in submission. Jungkook feels drawn to you beyond repair.
âKeep looking at me with those eyes and we wonât reach home tonightâ, he rasps, touching your waist as he basically undresses you with his eyes. âIâd take you right here and now. Make you feel so good that you see new constellations.â
Drunk you cannot handle talk like this, breaking into giddy giggles and hiding away in his chest.Â
âAre you laughing at me?â he gasps.
âNo, oh god no. Itâs just, nobody ever talked to me like this beforeâ, you explain yourself between giggles, nuzzling closer.
Jungkook chuckles, rubbing your back.Â
âGet used to it. I realised that Iâm kinda outta control when it comes to you. Maybe itâs the alpha gen.â
âMaybeâ, you look up at him with pretty puppy eyes, arms wrapped around his waist and chin resting against his chest.Â
He stubs your nose with his own, hands groping your butt possessively.Â
âStop looking at me.â
âItâs hard. When you touch me, I also lose control. I think itâs the omega gen.â
âMaybe. Or maybe youâre just a lightweight.â
âHah! So youâre saying Iâm just drunk?â
âBasically, yeah.â
You snicker, Jungkook grins.
âCome on, letâs go home before I actually do something indecent to you.â
You gladly let him hold your hand now that his kiss triggered your affectionate instincts, following him in happy steps.
Your walk home ends at Jungkookâs house. Two stories high and with a big garden surrounding it, it was one of the more luxurious houses in town.Â
âThis is where weâll live?âÂ
âIf you want to. I figured, you know, given how you still live with your parents and Iâm living alone, we could use my place. Itâs totally fine if you donât want to.â
âNo, itâs okay.âÂ
âYes? Great then we can get your stuff in the coming days. But for now, let me do this rightâ, he says and swoops you off your feet.
âAhâ, you let out, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. âWhat are you doing?âÂ
âCarrying you over the threshold. Why?âÂ
âNothing, itâs soâ, you stop talking to giggle instead, nuzzling your nose against his cheek. âItâs so cheesy.â
Jungkook chuckles, heart racing in his chest. He kicks the door closed behind him and does a twirl in the middle of his hallway.Â
âWait! Iâm too drunk for this! Eeekâ, you squeak, hiding away in his neck. âPlease stop, Iâm too dizzy.â
Luckily for you, Jungkook listens. He stops and sets you down, holding you close as you sway.Â
âThis wasnât funny. Oh god, Iâm dizzyâ, you laugh, dropping your forehead against his chest. He rests his cheek against your head, talking in a chuckle.
âSee? Told you. Total lightweight.â
âIâm not a lightweight. Youâre just a gremlinâ, you say and shove at his chest. He laughs, holding your hands.
âYouâre adorable. Come, dance with meâ, he says, placing your left hand on his neck and holding the other.
âDance? Right now?â
âYeah. Just you and I. Weâll do it right this time.â
âBut Iâm dizzy.â You step on his foot, making him groan. âAnd I have two left feet when drunk. Sorry, are you okay?â
âIâm okay. Iâm more than okayâ, he says, smiling at you as your bodies move to silent melodies.
âSorry.âÂ
âItâs fine, baby. Just look at meâ, he whispers, right hand on your lower back. It is so warm.Â
You look up at him. The pull is magnetic and fucking electric. You are so attracted to him. He has you feeling drunker than any amount of alcohol ever could. You are so fuzzy inside because of all the laughing you have been doing.Â
âYou have the most beautiful eyes everâ, Jungkook whispers, raising your pulse with it.
âKook, Iâ, you begin, eyes flitting to his lips. Merely seeing the shape of them is enough to reignite the flames in your stomach. Dancing becomes a little harder now that you are so excited.
âWhatâs the matter?â he whispers.
âItâs embarrassingâ, you confess with a heated face.
âTell me.âÂ
âNo, itâs so stupid. I donât even wanna do it but it just happens.âÂ
He guides his touch from your lower back to your waist. Gentle and loving but insanely possessive at the same time. âI promise I wonât laugh.â
You hesitate.
âPromise.â
âIâm, uh, there is slick.âÂ
Jungkook draws closer, making you chase his kiss.Â
âShit. There is?âÂ
âYeahâ, you whimper.
He lowers his eyes, making you taste the idea of his kiss. It makes you so desperate for him.
âIs this normal for you orâŚ.âÂ
You shake your head, âit never happened before. Not like this. Or that easily. I donât know, Iâm sorry, I canât stop it.â
âHoly fuck. Baby.â
âItâs so stupid.â
âNo, itâs not. Just kiss me.âÂ
You kiss him. At least you try to because before your lips can touch, you step on his toes again. Vigorously.
âOuch, heyâ, he gasps, flinching back.
âSorry! Oh my god, sorry. Are you okay?"Â
âAh fuckâ, he laughs, âyeah, Iâm okay. Youâre a terrible dancer.â
âHeyâ, you pout.Â
He chuckles and pecks your cheek.
âI want to show you one thing before we make it officialâ, he says.
âShow me, please.â
âFollow me. You can leave your shoes by the door.â
Jungkookâs home is somehow exactly how you imagined it to be. It is neat and tidy, but doesnât really have a lot of character. The rooms are spacious with little furniture filling them. The furniture is modern and there are barely any decorations present. It is the house of someone who doesnât feel at home in it. The desire to make it cozy and homey for him becomes stronger and stronger within you. There are already a million ideas swarming your head.
âYouâre quiet. Do you not like it here?â Jungkook asks you.
âNo, itâs not that. Iâm thinking.â
"About what?â
âItâs gonna sound silly.â
âTell me.â
âI already have so many ideas on how to make it cozier here. Sorry, I know itâs your house and everything.â
Jungkook steps close and cradles your face, making you look up at him.
âAnd itâs your home. Make it as cozy as you want toâ, he speaks softly, eyes warm and caring.
âReally?âÂ
He nods, kissing your forehead.
âThis place never felt like a home to me anyway. It can use the caring touch of an omega.âÂ
You canât explain how he makes you feel because you never experienced it before. The best way to describe it is cozy and safe. You want to curl up close to him and be yourself with him. This is how he makes you feel. As if you are allowed to be your truest You.Â
âSpeaking of cozy omegas, weâre here.â
âHere where?â
âMy surprise for you. I worked hard on it these past few days.â
He opens the door for you, allowing you view of one of the coziest rooms you have ever seen. It is filled with soft surfaces to lie on. A bed, a big sofa, some bean bags, a window bench. Curtains frame the window and the bed. The floor is covered in soft rugs. There are pillows to sink into on every surface and he installed fairy lights on the wall and the bed frame.Â
âWhatâs this?â you gasp.
âItâs your nest.âÂ
You look at him. He is clearly nervous, smelling of it as well.
âIâm still new to the entire omega heat thing. I know that theyâre a thing, obviously, and I know that you like to get cozy for them. I looked up nest inspirations online. It told me that you like lots of pillows and blankets and that I should make it cozy and warm. You can totally change everything in this room, of course.â He touches the side of his neck. âI just thought that Iâd try to make it comfortable for you. At least maybe? I donât know, I just wanna make it nice for you.âÂ
Your lower lip trembles.
âFuck, Iâm sorry. I didnât wanna make you cry. Is it that bad? Iâm sorry, I suck at interior design.â
You shake your head and fall around his neck, âthank you.âÂ
Jungkook closes his arms around you, nuzzling his nose into your neck. You smell of happiness right now.Â
âDoes this mean you like it?â he asks.
âI love it so much. I never had a nest before. Iâm so happy.âÂ
âYou are?â
âYes, so much.â
You step back, giving him a smile. Jungkook retorts it. You giggle and turn so you can hurry through the room.
Jungkook watches you, enjoying the droopy feelings in his chest. The longer you are in the room and the more details you spot, the stronger your scent of happiness gets. It almost fills up the entire room by now, making him feel so warm and complete. He feels at home in his house for the very first time.
âThis is so cozy, oh my god. So soft, wow. I love this colour, holy moly. Wow. So cozy. Wowâ, you gush and gasp as you inspect everything and anything.Â
You end up dropping into one of the beanbags, nuzzling into it as deep as possible while you purr in contentment.Â
Jungkook feels his knees buckle. He got you to purr. Holy fuck, he was seriously placed on this earth to treat you right.Â
He closes the distance between you and him, kneeling down in front of you. He comes closer, putting his weight on his elbow which he rests on the beanbag above your head. He leans down to kiss your cheek.Â
You stop your nuzzling, gasping quietly as his sudden closeness surprises you. You look up and canât look away again.
âYouâre the most beautiful bride I have ever seenâ, he whispers, cradling your cheek with his other hand.
âOhâ, you let out, feeling dizzy.Â
âNo wonder I had to kiss you.â He furrows his brows. âI know I shouldnât have done this and Iâm sorry.âÂ
âIâm not angry anymore. You built me a nestâ, you tear up, âJungkook, please give me my bonding night. I want to be with you.â
âReally? Are you sure?â
âSo sure, please. I canât take it anymore.â You shiver. âI keep producing slick and Iâm so cold without you and, and I wanna feel that good again. Like we did in the shed. I, I wanna feel like this again. Please.â
Jungkook closes his fist on the beanbag, trying to keep himself at bay. His instincts threaten to kick in when you beg like this.
âDo you want it here?â
âYes, please.â
âAnd you know what Iâll do to you? What might happen again?â
You deepen the lethalness of your puppy eyes, taking his hand to put it over your stomach. You whisper your words, turning him into puddy.
âI want to feel alive again. Together with you.âÂ
âHoly fuck, ___â, Jungkook croaks and goes in for a kiss. He growls and stops himself. âI need you to say that you understand. Please, donât make me do it without hearing it first.â
âYes, Kook. I know what youâll do to me. I need you to, please.âÂ
âThank you. Oh my god baby, I wanna treat you so rightâ, he croaks out and finally falls into the kiss. âIâll never ever force myself onto you again. Never. Fucking never. Holy fuck, babyâ, he babbles between kisses, turning you into a weak, turned on mess. âWanna treat you so right. My baby. Mine.âÂ
His touch is everywhere at the same time, unable to decide where to find its home. It feels so good. Each spot he touches, tingles and heats up. Whenever he changes spots, it leaves behind shivers and goosebumps before the entire process repeats itself again.
You want to keep kissing him, but soon have to stop because of his touch. You have to gasp for air, you would suffocate otherwise.Â
Jungkook, barely holding onto the threat of humanity by now, doesnât see any problem in being denied your lips. He kisses a path to your neck hungrily. Your aroused smell becomes stronger and stronger the closer he gets to your scent glands. He knows how good it feels when someone kisses his scent spots and he wonders if it is the same for you.Â
He kisses the spot on your left side, forcing you to arch your back and gasp loudly. You instinctively grasp his back.
âDo you like this?â he rasps his words, nibbling on the sensitive spot. You smell so good. Jungkook has never felt such an obsession with anotherâs scent before. He needs it all over his body, melted with his skin so everyone can smell who his heart belongs to. He canât stop kissing you, picking up more and more of your scent.
âDoes this feel good?â he asks again because you were too busy gasping the first time.
âYe-yeahâ, you gasp out, staring at the ceiling in shock. Your fingers twitch and tremble on his back, claws threatening to come out and slice open his shirt.Â
What is happening to you? You were kissed on your neck before, but this feels different. This feels lethal, fateful, like it is changing the way you view pleasure. You have never felt so electric before and so close to losing control.Â
âYou smell so good, I canât get enough.â
âWow, oh god, wowâŚâ
Jungkook stays on your left side until he can smell your arousal on his lips. Only then, does he kiss a sloppy path to your right side. He moans when he witnesses you roll your head to the side willingly and he moans again when he goes in to worship your hard working scent spot. And it is working hard. Fucking hell, you smell like pure sex and arousal. Jungkook huffs it up hungrily, biting and licking at the delicious spot.Â
All while you stare and gasp and lose control over yourself. The bites feel so good. You want to squirm and moan. Your head is fuzzy, your body so weakened. What is happening? What the fuck is happening to you? You canât stop producing more slick. You are so hot. Seriously, so fucking hot. Oh god, you canât think anymore. Anything you can think is how much you need him to fuck you.Â
âSeriously, fuckâ, Jungkook comes up for air, mouthing at your cheek drunkenly, âyou smell so good. I feel high.â
âI wanna be nakedâ, you croak out, arching your back. You donât have many thoughts except desire and sex. Being naked is all you crave right now. If youâre naked, Jungkook can potentially bite more parts of you. This is the logic of your fuzzy mind and it is driving you crazy that it isnât your reality yet.
âSit up then and let me open your dress.â
You obey gladly, almost dry heaving in desire. Jungkook reaches behind you and opens your dress. He wanted to pull it off slowly to make the moment romantic, but you shrug it off quickly for him.Â
He meets your eyes. They are golden and clouded in desire.
âAre you okay with this?â he asks.
âWhy not?â
âI never saw you naked before.âÂ
âOh.â A little clarity returns to your eyes. âRight.â
He can smell hints of coyness in your scent. And a little bit of nervousness.Â
âWrap your arms around me.â
You obey his order and like this, Jungkook is able to lift you out of your dress and carry you to bed. He lays you down carefully, straddling your lap without sitting down.Â
You are below him in nothing but your underwear, feeling small and fragile, but so safe.Â
âDo you wanna take it slower?â he suggests.
âNo, just nervous thatâs all.â
âDonât worry, Iâll be gentle. We can slow down whenever you need to.â
âOkayâ, you whisper and make puppy eyes at him, âcan you, uhm, can you bite me more?âÂ
âYes. Wow this isâŚhah. Of courseâ, he lets out, âfirst, let me match you.âÂ
He is getting undressed. First his tie, then he opens his buttons. His shirt leaves him first, next his belt and last his slacks. He stays in his briefs, heavy cock straining the fabric as much as he soaks it.Â
Now sharing in your state of undress, he leans down, taking your hands to pin them gently. He kisses you, blurring your thoughts into one big mess of arousal and safety. His thumbs caress your hands as he kisses you. Your scent is on his face, forcing even more slick to run out of you. Any sort of nervousness you felt is getting wiped out with each new kiss you share. He tastes so goddamn good. His lips are soft and the piercings on them are so exciting to feel.
The kiss breaks when air is sparse. Jungkook stays close to paint paths of worship down your body. He bites the softest spots and sucks marks of ownership on the firmer spots. And you are in heaven, wishing for him to never stop. Such heavenly feelings are unfamiliar to you. You had people mark you before, but it didnât feel like this. With Jungkook, you need him to continue. You need to know that every single inch of you is marked by him in one way or the other. Whether it be a bite mark, a kiss spot or his scent, you need it on your body and each time he gives it to you, you leak more slick. It is out of your control, unfamiliar and amazing. So amazing.Â
Jungkook is lingering over your sternum right now, hot breath tickling your skin. His strong hands are holding you under your armpits, reminding you that you were owned by the safest lover.Â
âI know itâs difficult for you, but please stop me if I go too fast. I canât stop myself once I let go, so I need you to yell it at me.âÂ
âPlease. Donât stop. Please, you feel so goodâ, you sigh, writhing.
âWow, IâŚ.fuck, I want youâ, he rasps, having to kiss every inch of you. âI want you. I want you so bad.âÂ
âAhâŚpleaseâŚdonât stopâŚâ
Jungkook reaches your breasts. They are swollen and plumb from arousal. They arenât always like this. When you are feeling normal, they also look and feel normal. They are how breasts are supposed to be, sagging from gravity and soft when lying down. Not right now. They stay in place. They are a little bigger, plumber and hot to the touch. They also smell like your arousal. Even through the fabric of your bra. It is so much sweeter and richer than it was on your neck. Jungkook moans like a druggy having found his drug, going in for a taste with an open mouth and way too much tongue.Â
âAhâ, you whimper, following it up with a submissive mewl. You are losing control again and it feels so good. Why does everything he does feel so good? It is as if you are a virgin being touched for the very first time, which is insane because you definitely arenât.Â
âYour skinâs so soft and warm. I canât get enough of youâ, he mumbles between his hungry kisses, turning you into puddy. You lost sense of how much more you can still take before you burst.Â
His masculine, possessive hands hold your breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh desperately. His spit soaks the fabric of your bra, leaving behind spots of coldness whenever he moves on to a new spot.
It happens again. You experience sensations you have never felt before. People played with your tits before, you played with them as well but it never felt like this. It never felt so otherworldly. They are so swollen. You canât breathe because there is so much pressure building up behind your nipples. You throw your hand over your mouth to muffle the overwhelmed sob, twisting the sheets with your other hand. It hurts. The pressure really hurts not to be taken care of.
Jungkook doesnât seem to hear your panicked whimper because he doesnât slow down in his feast.Â
âYour scent, Iâm so high. Itâs insane, holy fuck, so goodâŚâÂ
It gets too much for you. The pressure hurts so much. Youâre scared. What is happening to you?Â
Jungkook squeezes your breasts and bites down gently. The pressure bursts. You wail, arching your back as warmth trickles out of your nipples, soaking your bra.Â
The sweet scent of it hits his nose instantly. He tenses up and shudders, cock threatening to burst through his briefs.
âWhat the-â
Jungkookâs instincts tell him to rip your bra off and lick up the sweet scent, but he forces himself to be stronger than them. It is you who lies below him in such a vulnerable state. If he took advantage of that, he would never forgive himself.Â
âJungkook, help me. Please. Iâm scaredâ, you beg him in a quivering voice.Â
âTry to focus on me. Focus baby, right hereâ, he tells you, cradling your cheeks.
Your eyes search aimlessly for a moment, but soon find their home in his gaze.Â
âKooâ, you whimper, grabbing his wrists, âIâm scared. What is happening to me?â
âI donât know. It never happened to me before. My instincts tell me to clean it for you, but I donât know if you want this.â
âPlease, it hurts. Just make it stop, please.âÂ
âAre you sure?âÂ
âYes, pleaseâ, you sob.Â
âSit up.â
You barely manage to obey. Jungkook supports you, using his other hand to open your bra and tug it off of you. He throws it to the side, helping you lie down again.Â
Your breasts, normally victims to gravity, stay plumb and perky as you lie down. It is yet another proof that whatever he is doing to you is working beyond comprehension.
âHoly fuck, ___, your titsâ, Jungkook gets out, gawking at them in total awe. They are seriously so swollen, your nipples are so hard and they seem to keep leaking pearlescent liquid. âYouâre so beautiful, but holy fuck theyâre so swollen. Baby, wow.,â
âI donât know whatâs happening. Theyâre so⌠soâŚthereâs so much pressure.â
âI canât. Oh god.â
If only you and he knew that this is happening to you because he stimulated your scent glands. If only you knew that simulation of said glands only works this well with your true mate. You could have a hundred other men play with your tits the same way Jungkook did, but your body would never fall into such helplessness with any of them. Only he will get you to such levels of pleasure. Because it is only his mouth which is destined to taste your sweet pleasure.
You and he are unaware of this fact however, because this is still new to both of you.Â
âWhat, what do you need me to do?â He stutters, salivating.
âI donât know. Your instincts, I donât- ah.â
âRight.â His eyes glow golden. âMy instinctsâ, he growls and gives in to the voices. âStay still, Iâll take care of it.â
He picks up your tits and squeezes them together so your nipples are close to each other. He lowers his dripping mouth to them, taking in your right first but with the intention that your left will follow very soon.Â
His instincts tell him to stimulate your nipples with soft bites first until they are throbbing and then change to sucking them. He listens to his instincts, getting you to moan so loudly that his cock throbs painfully.
âIs this working, baby?â he asks, drooling all over your sweet nipples.
âOh god, yeahâ, you croak, arching your back. You twist the sheets, curling your toes. âIt doesnât hurt anymore, Koo thank youâŚâ
âFuuuck baby, so hotâ, he drags out his words until it turns into a growl instead, loving you oh so right.
He bites and bites, licks whenever you sob and bites some more, all while his strong fingers knead your plumpness. And then it happens. You arch your back and wail up as his stimulation finally forces your breasts to tighten and throb. Liquid shoots into his mouth and down his throat. It is the sweetest taste he ever had on his tongue, intoxicating him beyond saving. Jungkookâs eyes roll back, he thinks that for a second he blacks out before he comes back to be totally guided by his instincts.Â
He gurgles and moans, sucking the sweet nectar from your right nipple while his fingers play with your left just to keep it ready for him. It is a messy business and whenever he changes sides, he has to lick up the mess he made before he can suck on your nipple. It is not a terrible fate. On the contrary, itâs heaven. For both. Jungkook has never felt this high before while you love his tongue on your body. He is so hot and soft, giving you the perfect contrast to the sharp bites his fangs give you.
âKook oh god, Kook ah! Ah! A-ah!âÂ
You spill tears, grabbing your own face to muffle yourself and make sense of what is happening to you. This is life altering. You are in a constant state of genuine orgasmic bliss and it doesnât want to die down. You can literally feel how Jungkook sucks the liquid out of you, relieving you of the painful pressure as he does it. It helps so much, while at the same time making everything worse.
He might help you with the nectar of your breasts, but your body still keeps producing slick. And it is getting dangerously full inside you. Your panties feel like imprisonment to your cunt.Â
You twist a bundle of his hair, sobbing in ecstasy and desperation.
âKoo, Iâm scared, itâs so goodâ, you sob, trembling.Â
Your touch motivates him. He is starving for you even though he is currently feasting on you. He seemed to have sucked you dry. No matter how much he bites and sucks, your nipples stay dry. The starvation remains. He needs more of you.Â
âMore, give me more pleaseâ, he orders, growling his words between vigorous sucks.
âI, I canât. Ah, Kook ah.âÂ
âFuck, I canât stop. Youâre so sweet.â
He canât take a break, he needs more of you. He lets your scent guide him. It gets stronger and stronger, the closer he comes to your cunt. Donât be mistaken however, it is not your pussy which calls him, but your inner thighs. Your scent glands to be more specific. Working overtime to produce your arousing smell and begging for attention. They are the most sensitive of your scent spots, but you donât know that yet. You had men kiss you there before, but none of them were Jungkook. None were your mate.Â
Jungkook shoves your legs open and buries his face in your right thigh with a growl. His fingers dimple your softness, his fangs tickle your skin. Not long and he bites you.Â
Your entire body reacts to it. You tense and flinch as if he shocked you, letting out a howl of surprise. Your empty cunt aches, craving nothing more than him.
Jungkook lifts his head, eyes droopy and drugged and lips still glossy from your tits.
âIs like a drug. You is like a drugâ, he lulls his words and drops his face back in your thigh. Your left one for a change. He kisses and licks it, grabbing your waist possessively. He holds you with such strength that he even manages to bring it in a little, forcing you to burn in a fire you were never in before.
âI fucking want you, fucking need you, fuck canât get enough.â
âIâm so hot, I-Iâm so hot.â
âSo hot, so fucking soft. Fuck, your smell drives me insane.âÂ
âOh god, Kook. Iâm so hot.âÂ
The thing about omegas and heats is that it isnât as common as one might think. Before an omega has reached maturity, heats obviously arenât a thing. Afterwards, they are manageable when living with other family members. They feel more as if you were bad mooded and grumpy. You managed to sleep them off whenever they happened.
Burning in this unfamiliar fire as Jungkook repeatedly bites your sensitive scent spots makes you realize that perhaps you have never truly experienced a real heat before. Maybe it slumbers in an omega until they are with their true mate. Maybe the grumpy days are just natureâs way of saving the omega of embarrassing moments in front of family.
You canât explain why you know, but this is it. This is the real deal. Jungkook stimulated your sensitive glands for long enough that he forces you to go into heat. It feels different from anything you have ever experienced, it even feels different from the thing you thought to be your heat when he was with you in the shed. You were wrong back then, this is it. This is the real thing.
And it scares you so much that you beg for him. He comes up when hearing your distraught, cradling your face. He is clearly far away, seeming changed as well. The only thing having forced him away from you is his stronger instinct of keeping you safe. His dark hair is a mess, his eyes are foggy.
âWhatâs the matter, baby?â he lulls his words.Â
âIâm, Iâm in heat.â
âWhat? It can happen like this?â
âWhen you bit my scent spots, it made meâŚoh god, please make it stop please.âÂ
âWhat, uhm, what do you need?â
âYou. Please fuck me. I beg you.â
âHoly fuck, I-â Jungkook stops himself, growling deeply and twisting the pillow above your head, âsomethingâs wrong with me. Iâm losing control over myself.â
âKooâ, you croak, touching his chest. He is burning up, muscles swollen and tense. His heart races like crazy, unnaturally fast at that.
âWhat is happening to me?â he stresses.
âI donât know.â
If only you and he knew that his accidental efforts of forcing you into heat, forced him into his ruts with you. If only you knew that these are the effects of being with your true mate. If only you knew that the only remedy is sex. But you donât know and so you and he are fated to stumble through the unknown, still doing the right things because your instincts are stronger than anything else. It is as if your bodies do the talking without you and him having to speak their language yet. It is most certain that you will be fluent in it one day.
âI want to rip your panties off.â
"Please do.âÂ
Jungkook gives in and does as he wants. He rips your panties off, throwing the thin piece of fabric over his shoulder. He rips off his own briefs next, discarding the fabric. His heavy, thick cock slaps your stomach. He is so big and swollen by now that he can barely stand up despite his hardened nature. His slick pools in your navel and smears all over your skin.Â
âHoly fuck, urgh fuckâ, he drops his head in your neck, âit hurt so much to keep it in.â
âKook, youâre so heavy.â
âI know, Iâm so hard that I canât keep it standing. IâŚâ He lifts his head, cradling your cheek. âSay you want me.â
âI want you.âÂ
Jungkook shifts his hips so his cock probes at your entrance. You whimper and open your legs widely, putting them around his meaty thighs.
âJust the tipâ, he whispers.
âWhat? Noâ, you get out and pout.
Jungkook chuckles, cradling your cheek.
âYou know, like last time.â
âOhâ, a giggle shakes you and makes your face glow.
He chuckles, soaking up the moment of honest happiness like a dried up sponge would water. Each time he hears your laugh, he falls more in love with you. Â
âJust the tip when it didnât mean anything and we shouldnât have done it.â
Your giggle changes into a sigh of his name. You gaze into his eyes, building soul consuming connection.
âRight?â
âRight.â
Jungkook allows his tip to fill you. Just enough to let you feel that he was finally there with you. You whimper, spilling tears of relief.
Jungkook wipes them, spilling his own tears. He loves you. This is it. The moment it is official that you are mates. And it happens exactly how he always dreamed it would. You under him, looking so vulnerable and safe as he can gaze into your eyes and see your face change in pleasure.Â
âThis means everything to meâ, he croaks out and buries himself inside you to the base. âAh.â He twists the pillow.
âOh god. Ah.â
âToo deep? Hurts?â
âNo, itâs perfect. I feel, ah, I feel whole.âÂ
Jungkook moans your name, eyes filling with emotion.
You touch his messy hair, scratching him behind his ear. Jungkook shivers, eyes threatening to roll back. You are stimulating one of his scent spots, forcing him deeper into his ruts.
âOkay. If you. Fuck. This is my scent spot. It feels. Ahm. I, I have to fuck youâ, he struggles with his words, cock throbbing inside you as if it had his own pulse.Â
Throb. Throb. Throb.
He fills you with more of his slick each time he twitches. It tingles whenever he does.
âPlease donât hold back. Fuck me like you need to, pleaseâ, you whimper, shaking in agony. You tickle his scent spot especially good and itâs over for him.
Jungkookâs fingers slip from control. He canât hold back anymore. He knows that you can take it.Â
He pulls out only to slam into you again in a deep, passionate rhythm. In and out. In and out. It is endless and harsh and feels so fucking good. Â
Your eyes instantly roll back and stay there. Your fingers dimple the nape of his neck as you clutch him for dear life. Jungkook himself canât keep his eyes focused, gazing at you through a veil of blurriness.
âIs this good for you?â he gets out through gritted teeth.
âGoodâ, you wail, writhing in ecstasy.
âFuck, Iâm fucking high on you.â
He thought that he knew the feeling of your cunt but this is different. This actually forces him to listen to nothing but his instincts. He thought that he was out of control in the shed, but he wasnât. This is it. You are so hot around him, so soft and you are filled with slick to the very brim. It is Jungkookâs task to fuck it out of you in heavy, strong thrusts, making a mess of your bodies and the sheets in the process. He isnât aware of it yet but this gives you so much relief. You were bursting inside and now it is finally leaving you. There is no muscle in your body which isnât currently puddy. Everything you exist for right now is to be fucked by him. There is no other sensation to you than that of his thick cock reshaping your insides.Â
âBaby, this is a lot. Holy fuck, this is arghâ, Jungkook gets out, scrunching his face in anger. He wants to go deeper, but he canât. It pisses him off, makes him want to break shit. He knows itâs this stupid position. Fucking good for nothing. Who thinks of something that unfavourable? (Jungkook will think back to this moment once he is clear in his head and wonder why he hated missionary so much.) But he hates it right now. He canât even see himself inside you, his base is barely inside.Â
âMore, I need moreâ, he growls and pulls out.
âNo please, please it hurts pleaseâ, you instantly beg.
âPatient, Iâm rearranging you.âÂ
Jungkook takes your legs and guides them into a better position. You let him reshape you. This is what your body currently exists for and wants. It needs someone as strong and dominant as Jungkook to bend it to his will. Each second where he handles you feels like heaven.Â
He puts your legs over his shoulders.
âHands.â
You obey, giving them to him. He puts them on your own thighs, squeezing them against the back of them.
âHold them for me there. I want you to feel yourself shake.â
âYesâ, you whimper.Â
âGood omega. What a perfect thing you areâ, he lulls and slides his hands to your ankles. He picks them off his shoulders and lifts them up. Like this, he opens you for him. Your butt is lifted off the sheets, your cunt instantly gushes out masses of slick.Â
âI canât keep it inâ, you confess.
âItâs good, baby. You donât have to. Relaxâ, Jungkook assures you in a hungry whisper, eyes a deep gold and mesmerised by you. He moves his hips close and buries his heavy cock back in you.Â
You mewl, curling your toes. Slick drips onto the sheets as it makes space for his girthy length, you feel whole again.Â
âThere we go, fuckâ, Jungkook growls and bottoms out. He stays there for nothing but a second before he pulls out again to pick up a punishing rhythm.Â
It feels so good that your eyes roll back and you resort to moaning and wailing for him. Jungkook moans with you each time he is deep inside you. This finally scratches the itch. This is finally as deep as he can go. He can finally see himself inside you. Finally he can see how his thick cock reshapes your swollen cunt. He is so big and you take him so easily, moving and trembling around him as he repeatedly pounds you stupid. If you keep this up, he might get pussy drunk.
âI canât take this. Youâre so pretty. Is it good for you?âÂ
âYes. More, please.âÂ
âYouâre so perfect. Holy fuckâ, he growls and throws your legs over his shoulders to hold your hips instead and pull you onto his cock each time he thrusts into you. You are tighter like this, jerking off his fat cock.
Your voice pitches and rises in volume. You were never fucked like this before. Your needs were never ever getting satisfied like this before. It is changing you and Jungkook makes it even better by taking your clit between his fingers to massage her. She is so swollen and big that he can jerk her off just a little, making you howl. Your hands drop from your thighs just so you can rip the sheets in your attempt to twist them.
You canât take it. He makes you climax. It is so intense and fulfilling that your sensitive breasts leak again. You howl his name as it happens.
The scent of your sweet breasts and your pretty face sets off Jungkook.
âI have to. It happensâ, he gets out and throws his head back. He moans loudly, falling victim to his orgasm. His toes curl for it, his tones stomach flinches.
And because you are currently in heat, existing for nothing but him, his seed sets you off again. It brings you back into this uncontrollable, intense state of bliss you experienced for the first time in the shed. It should be familiar to you by now, but it is not.Â
You cry and sob, knowing that you wonât be able to stop orgasming for as long as your body needs to.Â
Jungkook knots instantly, cursing so graphically that he is surprised himself.Â
âBaby, I canât stop. I canât, Iâm sorryâ, he chants panickedly, unable to stop his hips from rutting into you. It forces his knot to keep leaving you and then popping back inside. The stimulation is unlike anything he has ever felt before, making his toes cramp from curling them so harshly and his hips become even more violent.Â
âIâm sorry. Iâm sorry, it feels so good. Stop me, I canât stop itâ, he apologises because you cry so much. He wants to stop hurting you but he canât. His hips rut against his will.Â
âDonât stop please. It feels so goodâ, you release him of his guilt, clenching down on him as he drills his knot back into you.
âWhat? Youâre in no pain?â
âNo pain. Oh god Koo, Iâm cumming againâŚAh!â You have to wail, squirting around his thick knot as he buries it inside you over and over again.Â
âAh! This is the best sex I ever had, oh godâ, Jungkook moans, arching his back.
The knot fucking burns so deep in such a good way. You are so empty without him, the breach is so intense and once he is inside again everything is well. Your pussy sounds so wet, squelching around his knot sinfully. This is seriously the best sex he ever had.
âItâs so good, Iâm so highâ, he growls, following your orgasm with his own. It is so unbearable to keep moving but his hips have a mind of their own. They keep rutting and fucking even through Jungkookâs shakes. âI canât stop this. Holy fuck, urggghh.â
If you knew that your little stunt in the shed would lead to having your guts knot fucked by none other than Jeon Jungkook, you would have agreed to this bond sooner. Yup, we have reached the point of total acceptance of your situation. Fuck that his father didnât howl. Fuck that you only married Jungkook because you were forced to. Fuck that this wasnât meant to happen. This right now is everything which counts. It is making this entire situation right. It was meant to happen.
âJungkook, I canât stopâ, you sob, grabbing for him helplessly.
âI know. I canât eitherâ, he gets out, holding your hands and pinning them above your head. Like this he is lying himself down on you, folding your willing body in half and burying his knotted cock so deep inside you that you feel him against your cervix. In your state, lost in heat and his seed, it is the highest level of pleasure he can give you. And you thank him with loud cries and your claws digging into his hands against their will.Â
His own claws come out to play. He angles his hands so they wouldnât hurt you. Like this, your hands are under hisâ, shaking and twitching as he brings you over one edge after the other.
âI canât stop. Jungkook please help meâ, you wail.
âYouâre safe. Iâm here. Baby, Iâm hereâ, he soothes you and shakes as he manages to bury his knot in you again. You are getting tighter and tighter and his knot more and more sensitive. âUrgh, baby youâre making me- ah!âÂ
He loses control, pumping your belly full of his hot cum. Now that he is pressed against your cervix, his seed pushes its way right past it, giving you the feeling of being alive you so dearly craved. Of course it sets you off again, of course you cry as if you never had an orgasm before and experience it for the first time. Of course it sets him off again. Of course all of this is happening. It was meant to happen. Of course it was.Â
And as you cry and sob in relief and bliss, Jungkook can barely stop his claws from hurting you. He grew in size and strength. Your small, fragile body is in danger of being crushed under him.Â
He does what he needs to do. Jungkook grips the headboard, growling like a rabid animal. You are so stretched out, so lose around his knot. And so wet. He canât stop fucking you with his creamy knot. It feels so good to have you struggle for a second but then take him happily. It feels even better because you moan with such ecstasy each time he drills it back into you.
Jungkook growls and grips the headboard tighter. And tighter. And tighter with each heavy thrust. With each of your moans. Tighter and tighter until suddenly it cracks loudly, breaking into two right under his hand. The bed gives up, forcing you to sink a good ten centimetres.Â
âWhat?â You squeak out, looking around you disoriented.Â
âDoesnât matter. Look at meâ, he dismisses it, cradling your cheek tenderly. One might never know that seconds ago he broke the bed with the same hand. âLook at me, only look at me.â
You look at him and fall back into the pleasure, having to orgasm instantly at the sight of him.
You wail for him, watching with blurry eyes as he orgasms as well.
His seed hits you in the deepest parts of you. He fucked you so sensitive that you can feel his thick vein pump it out of him. His knot trembles as it happens, bringing you to your blissed limits.
âAgain.â
âMe too. If you- I- me too.â
His hips freeze as he is deep inside you. Your walls tighten and force his knot to stay inside you. He canât move. It is happening to you as his seed drugs you, his knot does the rest. You canât stop climaxing. It is finally happening.Â
Jungkook whimpers helplessly, dropping your legs and collapsing into you. Your limbs close around him, his own do the same with you. He is on top of you, but gravity forces him to fall to his side and take you with him. You are stuck together, shaking and flinching as your bodies are trapped in the most addicting state of being. You orgasm which sets him off, which sets you off and so on. You should know the drill, but it doesnât get easier to bear. You drool and sob and moan, holding each other so close that you almost melt together.
Jungkook cries out as an especially strong high hits him, writhing helplessly which ends in your position changed. He is on his back, you serve as his warmest blanket. He hugs you so strongly, knotted cock shaking inside your tight walls. You drool all over his strong chest, feeling far away because you are so close to his scent glands. He smells like sex and ecstasy but also like safety.Â
It feels more intense than last time. This kind of knotting orgasm isnât just sexual, it is also emotional. You want to be close and you are and it is ecstasy. There is enlightenment that what is happening to you only happens because you are with your true mate and this enlightenment makes the orgasms only this much more intense.
The sun is starting to rise once you and he finally come down. You are fucked raw and sore by now, crying into the crook of his neck.Â
âHoly fuck baby, urgh. I canât do it again. Iâm crampingâ, he says, âsorry.â
âItâs okay. Iâm sore. Kook please Iâm scared.â
âDonât be, Iâm here. Baby, my love. I canât believe we did thatâ, he instantly falls into a love drunk, sappy state. He hugs you so tightly, feeling up your knotted pussy gently to soothe her.Â
âI donât wanna be on top, pleaseâ, you beg, shivering.
âYouâre safe, princess. Iâm hereâ, Jungkook says and changes positions for you. Somehow in a mixture of his strength and your refusal to give up his knot, you and he end up in flipped positions. He is still inside you, keeping you bred and warm. All while he gives you warmth through his body, adoring you right with kisses all over your face and neck.Â
âIâm so proud. Iâm so fucking proud. Holy fuck, I feel high. You did do well. Oh my pretty princess. My baby loveâ, he whispers between his loving kisses, hands caressing your sweaty, sore skin gently.Â
This is instinct as much as it is his heartâs desire. He wants to soothe you, adore you, bring you down gently after lifting you so fucking high. He isnât aware of how important this is to you. You feel so vulnerable and emotionally sensitive. It would be the same thing if someone decided to start open heart surgery on your aware self. This is how vulnerable you feel and it is Jungkook who makes it okay. It is Jungkook who calms you down and reminds you that you are allowed to be sensitive because he is there to protect you.
âI canât comprehend this. I feel high. Wow baby, wow. How do you feel?â he babbles.
âVulnerable.â
âOh baby, I know. Iâm here. Your Kook is hereâ, he assures you, nuzzling his nose against your scent spot. He hopes that if he nuzzles it long enough, he can spread some of his relaxing scent on you.
It works. Of course it does because your bodies need no instructions to communicate. It is natural and right and makes you and him feel fuzzy.Â
You sigh. Jungkook smells the relief against your neck. He kisses a path to your face. Your glassy eyes await him, eagerly building connection once they can.Â
âThank youâ, you whisper.
âNo, I have to thank you. This was the best bonding night ever.â
âNo, thank youâ, you insist, spilling tearsÂ
Jungkook wipes them, knowing that you want to tell him something.
âFor what, princess?âÂ
âFor, for making me feel like this. I, I was never in heat like this. I didnât know that I could and it makes me feel really vulnerable. But youâre so gentle with me and itâs so nice.â
His eyes soften. He whispers your name adoringly and kisses your forehead.
âI feel the same. This was my first rut ever. I didnât think that it would be so intense.â
âKook, Iâm scared. I donât know what this means.â
âDonât be scared, Iâm here.â He kisses your nose, stubbing you with his own afterwards. âWe can ask someone about it, but all I know for now is that I donât wanna fucking stop having you close.âÂ
âYeah, me too.âÂ
He kisses your lips, making your heart race and feel at home. He breaks the kiss gently, giving you the fondest and warmest smile ever.
âIâm so proud of you. You did so well, my princess baby.â
âOh wowâ, you get out, having to giggle.Â
Jungkook giggles with you, smiling as he steals a cheeky kiss. Afterwards he sits up. He is still connected with you by your middles, making you gasp and shiver.
âSorry, I shifted. Are you okay?â
âYes, oh god. What is happening to me? I feel so comfortable.â
Jungkook smiles, caressing your sides. He canât stop looking at you. Your breasts are normal again, natural victims to gravity and so soft. They are still messy and wet from what happened before but nothing new leaves you. Your belly is bloated from his seed and covered in a layer of sweat. No wonder you sweat so much, you were burning up. Jungkook dances his palms over your bloated stomach, furrowing his brows in emotion.Â
âSo aliveâ, he whispers.
âSo aliveâ, you sigh, placing your hand over hisâ.Â
â___â, he says and meets yours eyes.Â
âYes?âÂ
âYouâre so fucking beautiful. I didnât get to say it as we were doing it because I was dumb in pleasure, but you are so beautiful.â
âYou think so?âÂ
âI do. I canât believe that youâre real and, and that you allow me to see you naked. I justâ, he exhales shakily. âIâm just so happyâ, he chokes out, throwing his hand over his eyes to hide his tears.Â
âKook, donât cryâ, you gasp and pull him down to you. He falls to his elbows, allowing you to hold his hands above your head.Â
He is pouting and sniffling. You give him a smile.
âDonât cry.â
âTheyâre happy tears. Weâre bonded, Iâm so happyâ, he says and smiles through his pretty tears.Â
Your smile grows, you squeeze his hands. He was right when he said that you and he will get to know each and that it will be nice. You can feel it. You are right for each other. You are so right.Â
You put your legs around him and push him deeper again.Â
âOhâ, he gasps, squeezing your hands, âwo-oah this felt really intenseâ, his voice quivers as he speaks.
âIt doesâ, you agree, rolling your hips up.
Jungkook gasps, âwhat are you doing?âÂ
âI want more of you.â
âReally? Baby, youâre sore. I donât want to hurt you.â
âPlease. Be gentle. Please make love to me, Kook baby.âÂ
Jungkook spills tears, whimpering your name. This is everything he ever wanted. He pulls out of your sensitive warmth to thrust into you.Â
Crack!Â
You and he scream in shock as the bed finally gives up completely and comes crashing down onto the ground. Jungkook keeps you safe with his arms around you and your head cradled against his chest.Â
You and he share a moment of shocked and disoriented silence before you break it.
âOh my godâ, you let out, breaking into loud, honest cackles. Jungkook looks at you, having to break into laughter as well.
âDid we just get cock blocked by the bed?âÂ
âI think so. It might be my fault. I kinda broke it when I fucked you with my knot. Sorry.â
âOh god, Kook.â
You laugh oh so loudly, throwing your head back for it.Â
Jungkook has to almost squeak as he laughs with you, heart bursting in his chest.Â
âThis is so funny. Oh my god.âÂ
âYeah, itâs hilariousâ, he agrees and goes in for a surprise kiss.Â
Your laugh cuts off, a gasp replaces it. Your eyes fall closed and your hands bury themselves in his soft hair. This kiss is emotional and it is deep. It has meaning. It is happy and filled with love. Jungkook lets you experience it to its fullest, ending it with a stub of his nose and a smile.Â
âI promise to fix it. Iâll add steel in the frame.â
âSo you think weâll break it again otherwise?âÂ
âYeah.â He laughs breathily, nodding his head. âIf this is how it feels to be with you during stimulation induced heat, imagine how it will be once itâs your natural heat.â
You gulp, gazing at him dreamily. The rising sun shines on his face, making his skin glow golden.Â
âKoo, I think you need to heat proof this entire roomâ, you whisper, making him chuckle and nod his head.
âI will. Iâll make it safe and cozy. Shit baby, I canât stop saying it. Youâre so beautiful. The sun is shining on you and youâre so beautiful.â
You feel your cheeks heat up, looking at him shylyÂ
âYouâre beautiful tooâ, you whisper, making him blush.Â
âWow, thanksâ, he mumbles, scrunching his nose. He does a little shift to be closer to you. The bed croaks and punishes him for it by making the headboard drop. He catches it before it can fall on top of you
âPiece of shit bed.â
âOh godâ, you laugh âI think we need to take care of this mess first and then continue.â
âYeah shit, I think youâre right. The bedâs out to get us.âÂ
You laugh and snicker, kicking your feet happily. He chuckles and shoves the headboard to the side.Â
âCome on, letâs take a showerâ, he says and picks you up.
You nuzzle into him, feeling beyond safe.
âDo you have snacks too? I havenât eaten since yesterday morning.â
âOf course. You know what? First fact about me? Iâm actually a really great cook.â
âYou are?âÂ
âMhm, Iâm also a total foodie. So if you wanna bribe me into snuggles, get me food and Iâll be the cuddliest boy ever.â
You snicker. It makes your heart flutter when he talks cute with you.
âDo you like food?â he asks.
âYeah, I like food. Itâs comfort.â
âYeah, right. Do you like cooking together?âÂ
âI never did it before.â
Jungkook holds you closer.
âThen I know what weâll do. Shower and cook and I get to give you kisses. And later when youâre not sore anymore, Iâll make that gentle love to you. If you want me to.âÂ
âYeah, I want you to. This sounds so nice. Koo?â
âYes, love?âÂ
âItâs gonna be so easy for me to fall in love with you.â
âWow, you. Urgh, you drive me crazy youâ, he gets out through gritted teeth and presses you against the next best wall to attack your face and neck with tingling kisses.
You squeal his name, having to laugh in giddiness. It will not be the last time that you laugh because of him.
#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook scenario#jungkook oneshot#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#dom!jungkook#alpha!jungkook#werewolf jungkook#bts smut#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts scenario#bts oneshot#bts x reader#bts x you#dom!bts#alpha!bts#bangtan smut#bangtan fanfic#bangtan fanfiction#bangtan oneshot#bangtan scenario#bangtan x reader#bangtan x you#dom!bangtan#alpha!bangtan#fanfic: werewolf universe
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jungkook fic recs! đ part 2
đ¤ Champagne Confetti â j.jk - @busanboykoo (âyou won't regret me, champagne confettiâ or maybe just jungkook wants you to tell him what you want him to do to you.)
đ¤ oh how you love longhair!jungkook . . . - @twilghtkoo
đ¤ Your boyfriend looks a little too good in his police uniform. - @badbtssmut
đ¤ e s p r e s s o - @joonberriess (boxer!jk)
đ¤ trippin' over, gettin' lost on you | jjk (m) - @euphorajeon (a visit to the coffee shop you work at rewards jeongguk not only with a cup of coffee and a plate of brownie, but also with something else simmering deep in his veins. a challenge is issued, and all hell breaks loose.)
đ¤ Donât Blame Me | sugar daddy!jungkook one-shot au - @ctrlsht (You can have everything you want and need as long as you have Jeon Jungkook by your side. You were enjoying everything that Jungkook gives you and as long as youâre with him. Youâre sure to yourself that you will never fail him but he was the one who failed you. Everything is fine until he gets too much.)
đ¤ WELCOME TO THE HEARTBREAK SHOW ââ jungkook - @numinousher (youâre in love with your partner in class that everyone fears (and loves) due to his stoic facial expression and the way he rejects girls rather harshly. as you get to know him, will he be able to handle your heart that you so willingly gave him to care for or, will he break it due to his hatred for people who are in love with him?)
đ¤ Itâs hard to stop but once it starts, it starts - @byuljoonie
đ¤ concrete king. (m) jjk - @bratkook (when a cute boy in a tacky hawaiian shirt lands a trick in your honor theres no way you could ever say no to him)
đ¤ baecation - @1kook (âLose the top, or lose the right to present yourself in any low back gown for the next three months.â He truly knew the way to your heart.)
đ¤ test your morality (jungkook) - @trivia-yandere (jungkook's morality is tested when he's woken from his unconscious state to find you - his best friend - bound before him.)
đ¤ Needy | jjk oneshot - @jkslipppiercing (your boyfriend often helps you set up for your weekly girls' night...what happens when he gets needy for you only 15 minutes before your girl friends arrive?)
đ¤ ESCAPISM | JJK - @wnderkoo (ŕ¨ŕ§Â lipstick smudged like modern art..)
đ¤ VĂŠritĂŠs CachĂŠes (JJK) - @bangtanficsforyou (You try to make an escape from a beast, that you happen to have encountered while on a vacation with your boyfriend.)
đ¤ lonely hearts club (m) - @dovechim (jeon jeongguk has annoying little brother energyâ˘. you know this deep in your bones. wedding after wedding, you keep running into him at the goddamn singlesâ table, and he just wonât leave you alone. until you start to wonder... is he your ticket out of the lonely hearts club?)
đ¤ By Its Cover (M) - @gimmesumsuga (The one where Jungkook makes a horrifically bad first impression.)
đ¤ The Deepest Marks of Essence - @lleldey (When you found yourself circled by a tribe, you never thought it would lead you to tap into your deepest wants and desires. You are the oldest child, the example of how one should act at all costs, but if you ever manage to escape this maze and if your story ever becomes told, youâll never be looked at the same. But itâs hard to regret it when your nights are spent with gentle caresses and starry midnight skies. You got everything you secretly longed for, but at what cost?)
đ¤ every hour, every minute. (m) - @aajjks (jungkook can be an animal when it comes to fucking you sensless.)
đ¤ ONCE AGAIN, MILAN ! - (nsfw) - @frmisnow (what happens when you and jungkook find yourselves once again in milan, this time with no business attached â well a hol' lotta sex for sure!)
#jungkook#jungkook fanfiction#bts fanfiction#jungkook angst#bts angst#jungkook fic recs#bts fic recs#jungkook x reader#bts jungkook#jungkook series#jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook fic#jungkook recs#jeon jungkook#jeon jungguk#jungkook imagine#yandere jungkook#jungkook reader#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x yn
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american wedding l ln4
summary: lando dating zak brown's daughter leads to a lot of pr disasters, like getting married in vegas
notes: can be read as a part two to boss' daughter or a stand alone
masterlist
yourusername
liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 38,329 others
yourusername wasnt gonna drink tonight but i miss my bf like a mf.
view all comments
user real tbh
user i miss u like a mf. show ur face at a race already queen.
user no cause it's been forever since she went to one and i miss the chaotic content with her and lando
user you know damn well you were gonna drink regardless liked by yourusername
landonorris i miss u moređ just drop out of uni and come to all my races
zbrownceo excuse me?
landonorris JUST A JOKE! ha ha ha.
user LANDOđđ
landonorris but i just booked a flight to nyc because of this post btw. see you this weekendđ
yourusername i was about to start crying until i realized what emoji you usedđ
oscarpiastri dont we have be at the mtc this weekened??
yourusername SHHHH OSCAH
landonorris yeah oscar shhh
user poor oscar is always getting tag teammed by those two
user lando getting that in-law privilege by skipping important meetings to see his boss' daughterđ
user i love this relationship's dynamic theyre so perfect for each other
f1gossip
23,432 likes
f1gossip Lando and Y/n's Brown's weekend in New York City! It seems Lando skipped his trip to the MTC to be with his girlfriend where they were pictured clubbing and walking around the city multiple times.
view all comments
user IN THE CLURB WE ALL FAM
user he finally met his match lol
user lando is a clingy drunk confirmedâ
user i really want to know what their drunk conversations sound like
user hot take but if she wasnt zaks daughter most of you guys would hate her
user shes making him blow off important meetings so he could be with her? she sounds like a distraction from racing
user girl what- her dad is literally the ceo? if there was an issue im sure he wouldve let them know bffr
user zak brown is probably tired of these twođ
user is partying all they do together?
user no cause she lowkey seems like a bad influence
user i agree𫣠shes always posting herself partying and drinking, thats not wag material
user she might be a pr nightmare but i stand with my canceled wifeđ
landonorris
liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 820,429 others
landonorris nyc to vegasđŠ aaaand i brought the bad influence with
tagged yourusername
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user the caption IM-
user nah hes lowkey dissing y/n hatersđ
user how did he bag someone 10x cooler than him
user the bottle of alcohol and the vape, she really is ready for vegas
user Y/N'S BACK!!!
yourusername vegas aint ready for us
landonorris no they arentđ
yourusername enough.
user no hate to the other wags but y/n is truly the realest one out of all of them
user fr she truly is just a normal girl in her twenties
oscarpiastri đ
yourusername what is that suppose that mean OSCAH!!! my father will hear of this
oscarpiastri ok calm down draco malfoy
user why is there lowkey beef between y/n and oscar LMFAO
yourusername he hates my swag!!!
oscarpiastri she brings a lotttt of energy to the garage when shes heređ
user im crying at oscars responseđđđ hes had enough of yn and lando
user idk if her holding a bottle of alcohol is appropriate to post!
user pls grow up omg
yourusername
liked by carlossainz55, danielricciardo and 59,329 others
yourusername postt race partoes >>>>>> the avtual race
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user THEE party girl
user i need to party with them so bad
user lando.jpg when???
user the typosđ shes already drunk
user yup theres already videos of her and lando drunkly dancing together all over twitter
user yeah and oscar was in the background of those videos looking miserable LMFAOO
user oh to be a wag partying in vegas with lando
yourusername posted a story
user i voted fall to my knees and cry btwâŚif you even care
user um this is a random question to ask at 3amâŚ
user what stores are even open rnđđ
-
oscarpiastri Y/N??? IVE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU AND LANDO FOR LIKE A HALF AN HOUR AT THE CLUB AND YOURE NOT EVEN HERE??
oscarpiastri if you guys dont pick up your phones i swear to godâŚ
oscarpiastri of course i get stuck as babysitter to the two most drunk people at the party
yourusername heY oscahđđ sendingg u my lpcation now cuz we need a witness so come ASAPPPPPP
oscarpiastri WITNESS FOR WHAT?
-
danielricciardo if this means what i think it means, youre both so deadđ¤Ł
user babes didnt u just post at the club like an hour ago
yourusername
liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 1,392,321 others
yourusername do u guys thonk my dad will be mad thaT oscar walked me down the aislee?
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user OH MY GOD??
user mclarens pr team are going to have a rude awakening in the morningđ
user shes never beating the bad influence allegations i fear
user crazy to think that this time last year he was flirting with her through her instagram commentsđ
user and now theyre married omg i remember everyone was teasing lando but he truly got the last laugh
carlossainz55 i dont know if i should congralute you guys or be concerned?
user mind you, its almost four in the morning in vegas
danielricciardo getting married is crazy, you should be at the club
yourusername u mak a grrat point! otw now
mclaren we cannot congratulate until the boss says its okay sorryđ
zbrownceo answer your phone.
oscarpiastri sir, i would like it to be known that she blackmailed to be there
yourusername okay snitch!
zbrownceo im not kidding y/n
danielricciardo ouuu youre in trouble
user its so over for them
user zak finally putting his foot down with these two LMFAO
f1gossip
25,532 likes
f1gossip Wedding celebrations at the club! Seems like the newlyweds are back partying after their wedding announcement was made just a few minutes ago. Congrats to them?
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user everyone is freaking out and theyre literally at the club im cryingg
user "congrats to them?" is literally all of us rnđ
user they are not real omg
user zak is probably blowing up their phones and they do not care at all lmfaooo
user truly winning the idgaf war
user real question is are they getting an annulment once they sober up???
user i really wanna know what zak will make them do
f1gossip
20,329 likes
f1gossip Newly weds update! The two were seen this afternoon leaving Las Vegas with Zak Brown himself. Neither were seen wearing wedding rings, possible divorce?
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user well that was fun while it lasted
user damn they beat kim kardashians record of the shortest marriage
user at least theyre still datingđ
user they definitely got yelled at lmfaoo
user cant tell if zak is happy or angry that his daughter married norris considering how much he loves him
user oh hes def happy about it but not happy they posted it LOL
user good for him for getting an annulment. shes a mess
user and hes not? bye theyre both messy
landonorris đqatar
liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 2,424,232 others
landonorris annulment? we're in our honeymoon
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user oh so theyre fr about this marriageđ
user does bro know theres a race on sunday
user they look so in love im honestly really happy for them
yourusername we beat the fraud marriage allegationsđ
mclaren now thats its been approved by the boss, congratulations to the best papaya couple theres ever beenđ§Ą
user wow so zak approves! im shocked tbh
user i wish i couldve seen their reactions the morning after the wedding
yourusername ohhh we didnt remember any of it tbh but were happy now!
user LMFAO OMG....
user she finally got her ring!! and here you guys were thinking they got a divorce bc she didnt have one
danielricciardo never thought id see the day
yourusername me neither tbh
landonorris excuse me WHAT
landoupdates
50,242 likes
landoupdates Lando was questioned on his Vegas wedding in new interview.
"We decided not to get any annulment or anything and just keep this Vegas marriage as sort of like a promise for a real one in the future." đ§Ą
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user omgđđthey are too cute
user not to be dramatic but i would honestly cried if they broke up
user no literally they mean everything to me
user "i really do think y/n is the one" DO YOU HEAR ME SOBBING
user he gets so smiley when y/n is brought up ughhh me and WHO
user and to think y/n has haters is crazyyy this man is so in love with her
user if oscar isnt the best man ill riot for him, he was there for the og wedding
user imagining them trying to convince zak to not get a divorce is the cutest but funniest thing ever
-
more notes: has anyone seen anora?? it inspired this haha A FRAUD MARRIAGE!!!
#lando norris x reader#f1 x reader#lando norris#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine#lando norris smau#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x you#ln4#f1 fanfic
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Forced | Max Verstappen Ver
WC: 22.2K
Max x reader
Summery: Jos made a deal years ago that he can't get out of, and Max is the one to see it through.
Warning â ď¸: abuse(mental, physical), a little naive reader, slight ptsd, eating disorder implied, depression and suicidal thoughts, mention of parent death, family abandment, cursing, Jos being an ahole, injuries
AN: Dark one. Read the warnings.
SAT THERE EDITING SINCE THE RACE JUST SO I COULD GET IT OUT TODAY!!
Masterlist
Max Verstappen
Charles Ver., Carlos Ver.
How he ended up here was a mystery to Max, but here he was, sitting in a private room at some overpriced restaurant, his father on one side and a stranger across from him. Across from him sat the man he only knew as Mr Wilkins, his sharp eyes practically dissecting Max with every glance.
Max prided himself on being observant. He noticed the little things, the subtle shifts in behaviour, the unspoken tells. And tonight, Jos Verstappen was a man he barely recognised. His father, usually so confident and composed, was jittery, avoiding Maxâs gaze, his hands restless against the polished table. Jos had been skittish for days, dodging every question Max had thrown at him. And now, this.
âHave you told him?â Wilkinsâs voice cut through the tension, cool and unwavering. His question was directed at Jos, but it hit Max like a stone.
Max glanced at his father, his stomach twisting, this is what his dad has been dodging all week. âTold me what?â
Josâs gaze fell to the table. He didnât answer.
âI see you havenât.â Wilkins said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. âLooks like Iâll have to do it myself.â
Jos shifted uncomfortably, his hand reaching for his glass of water but stopping halfway. âAre you sure thereâs nothing else I can do?â He asked, his voice low and almost pleading.
Max froze. Pleading? Jos Verstappen didnât beg. Not for anyone. Wilkins, however, remained unmoved, his lips curling into a faint smirk.
âYou knew the price all those years ago.â His tone was ice-cold, unyielding.
 âCan someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?â Maxâs patience snapped, his voice cut through the room, loud enough to draw attention if there had been anyone else around. Wilkins chuckled, clearly amused by Maxâs agitation.
âRelax, Mr Verstappen.â He said smoothly, as if the situation was nothing more than a business transaction. âYouâre about to receive some⌠life-changing news.â
Max didnât relax. He braced himself, his instincts screaming that whatever was coming next would flip his world upside down.
âIâm sorry.â Josâs voice was barely a whisper, and when Max turned to him, his fatherâs face was pale, his eyes fixed on the table.
âWell, congratulations are in order.â Wilkins announced, his smirk widening. âYouâre a groom.â
Silence. A heavy, suffocating silence settled over the room. Max blinked; certain heâd misheard.
âA groom?â He laughed, but it was hollow, a sharp bark of disbelief. He pointed at himself. âMe? You must be joking.â
 âOh, I assure you, Iâm quite serious.â Wilkinsâs expression didnât waver. Maxâs laughter died instantly. His body stiffened, his hands curling into fists on the table.
âWhat the fuck are you talking about? Iâm not even seeing anyone!â He turned sharply to his father, his voice rising. âWhat is he saying? Whatâs going on? And what did you do?â
Jos flinched, his hand shaking as he reached for his son. âL-look, Max, I-I didnâtââ
âOh, but you did.â Wilkins leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as if settling in for a long story. âLet me make this simple, since itâs clear your father hasnât explained. Many years ago, Jos and I made a deal. I did him a favour, quite a significant one, might I add, and now itâs time for him to repay it.â Wilkins slid a crisp document across the table. Max barely glanced at it. His glare was fixed on the man whoâs trying to upend his life. âMy business is failing.â Wilkins continued smoothly. âAnd I need investors. Your father, with his connections and not to mention his three-time world champion son, can help me secure them. And what better way to cement that relationship than a marriage?â
âAnd what does that have to do with me?â Maxâs jaw tightened, but he forced himself to keep his voice steady.
âEverything.â Wilkins said, his eyes gleaming. âBecause you, Max, are the key to this entire arrangement. And letâs be honest, youâd do anything to protect your father, wouldnât you?â
The insinuation hit like a slap. Maxâs gaze darted to his father, whose face crumbled under the weight of guilt.
âI donât get it,â Max muttered. âWhat could you possibly have over him?â
Wilkinsâs smirk turned razor-sharp. âOh, I have plenty. How about the fact that Jos embezzled money to secure his career in Formula 1? Or that he cheated his way into a few deals? One word from me, and the media would have a field day. And prison? Well, Jos knows what thatâs like already, doesnât he?â
Maxâs stomach churned. He pushed back his chair, the screech of metal against wood cutting through the tension. Grabbing his phone, he stood, his movements sharp and final.
âIâm not doing this.â He said, his voice firm, resolute.
âMax, wait!â Jos half-rose from his chair, grabbing his sonâs arm. âPlease, just⌠think about it. Please.â
Max wrenched his arm free, his glare slicing through his fatherâs desperation. âThink about what? Selling myself off like some business transaction? No.â
âItâll be good for your image,â Jos added hastily, his tone desperate. âAnd Wilkinsâs daughterâsheâs beautiful. Maybe just⌠meet her. Talk to her.â
Maxâs head snapped towards Wilkins, his eyes narrowing. âYour daughter? Youâre offering her up like some bargaining chip?â He scoffed, the disgust in his tone cutting deep.
Wilkins shrugged, utterly unbothered. âBelieve me, sheâll be happy. And I know sheâll make you happy.â
Maxâs gaze flicked between the two men. His father looked like he was on the verge of breaking, while Wilkins appeared positively delighted with himself. The chaos fuelled him; it was written all over his face.
Max exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. âIâll think about it.â he said finally, his tone clipped. Without another word, he turned and strode out of the room, ignoring the sound of his father pleading with Wilkins behind him.
Max went back to his house, the penthouse he shared with his cats. His mind was swirling with emotions and ideas. There must be another way, there had to be. How could they expect him to marry someone heâd never met before? They were acting as if it was as easy as picking up groceries.
His phone pinged with a notification.
It was from his dad. Clicking on their chat, Max barely glanced at the attached picture of you before reading the text below it:
He gave us one week before you have to get married.
Max cursed under his breath and threw his phone, watching as it clattered against the floor, startling his cats.
The week crawled by painfully. It took Jos a few days to show up at Maxâs door, trying to convince him. Jos pleaded, guilt-tripping Max at every opportunity. He even showed Max your Instagram profile, scrolling through pictures and pointing out that you werenât a forever commitmentâthat marriage didnât mean he had to be faithful. Jos insisted that Max could continue living his life as usual.
In the end, it wasnât the arguments or assurances that drove Max to the courthouse; it was the love he had for his father.
Max sat stiffly in front of the officiantâs office, dressed in a blazer, a white shirt, and jeans. He refused to dress up more than that for what felt like a mockery of a commitment. Jos sat beside him, restless, while Maxâs thoughts churned. The clock ticked away, but you and your father were nowhere to be seen.
Max glared at the door. Power play, he thought bitterly. Being late was a way to assert control, to make them wait, to show who was in charge.
When Wilkins finally arrived, his booming voice preceded him, pulling Max out of his thoughts.
âOh good, youâre here.â Max stood without sparing a glance at the group, opened the door to the officiantâs office, and walked in.
You entered moments later, your smile soft but strained when your eyes met Josâs. Wilkinsâs hand gripped your arm tightly as he led you inside, his fingers digging into your skin. You kept your head high and your posture straight, despite the discomfort. When he lets go, you instinctively rubbed your arm but quickly stopped, aware of everyoneâs eyes.
Max didnât look up. He sat rigidly in his seat, staring at the officiant, his jaw set.
âI wonât take long.â The officiant began, sliding a paper in front of Max. Heâs clearly paid by your dad. Max grabbed the pen and signed without hesitation, not sparing you a glance. When the paper was passed to you, your hands trembled slightly as you picked up the pen. You signed where indicated, your expression composed, but there was a flicker of hesitation before each stroke.
âGood, nice and easy. Now exchange the rings.â The officiant said.
Max hadnât brought rings. It hadnât even crossed his mind. Jos, however, handed him a pair of simple bands, evidently having planned for this.
Max took a steadying breath and turned to you. His gaze faltered for a moment. He hadnât expected this. You were... breathtaking.
For a moment, he hated that it mattered.
The smile you wore didnât waver, though it was faint and polite, not reaching your eyes. Max took your hand. Your fingers felt fragile in his grip, trembling slightly, yet he didnât notice the faint pressure marks on your skin from Wilkinsâs grip earlier. He just slid the ring on, his movements mechanical.
You took his hand with quiet care, slipping the ring onto his finger with the same delicate precision, avoiding his gaze. When it was done, Max pulled his hand back quickly, rising from his seat.
âWhere do you think youâre going?â Wilkinsâs voice was sharp. Max froze mid-step, his shoulders tense. âYou forgot your wife.â Max turned slowly, glaring at Wilkins. His fatherâs chuckle grated against his nerves. âYou didnât think just signing papers was enough, did you? Youâll take my daughter with you.â
Wilkins placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, making you flinch slightly before quickly composing yourself. Your smile shrank further, barely there.
Maxâs eyes flicked to you. Your white dress clung to your frame, the heels on your feet absurdly high. You looked... smaller somehow, standing next to your father.
âCome on, then.â Max said brusquely, turning and heading for the door.
Wilkins leaned down, whispering something in your ear. You nodded quickly, not daring to respond aloud. You hurried after Max, your footsteps soft but purposeful.
Outside, Maxâs carâa sleek Aston Martin DBSâwaited. You moved to the passenger side without a word, glancing briefly at Max as you settled into the seat. Your hands rested in your lap, clutching your handbag tightly.
The drive to his penthouse was suffocatingly silent. Max glanced at you occasionally. You sat stiffly, your head slightly bowed, offering no conversation. By the time you arrived, Max began to wonder if you ever spoke at all.
Inside the penthouse, Maxâs cats greeted him with meowing and weaving around his legs. He crouched to pet them, finding brief solace in their presence.
When he stood, you were still by the door, shoes off, holding them neatly in one hand. Your other hand gripped the strap of your handbag, knuckles pale.
âIâll show you the guest bedroom,â Max said.
âThank you.â Your voice was soft, measured, almost hesitant.
Max frowned. He wasnât sure what heâd expected, but the sound of your voice caught him off guard. It was far more subdued than heâd imagined.
You followed him quietly, your movements careful, as though unsure of your place in this space. You take a 360 degree look before your eyes fall back on Max.
âThereâs a bathroom attached. If you need anything, let me know,â Max said as he stood at the doorway.
âThank you.â Your response was the same, polite but distant.
Max closed the door behind him and leaned against it briefly, exhaling. You were too calm, too composed. It unsettled him. You werenât angry or demanding. You werenât protesting or pushing back.
That left only one possibility. You wanted this.
And Max despised you for it.
You sat on the bed in the guest room, unsure of what to do with yourself. The room was luxurious, similar to your bedroom back home, a little homier though. Looking around, your eyes landed on the large windows.
Walking over, you pulled back the sheer curtains and opened the window slightly. A salty breeze wafted in, carrying the faint hum of the city below. There were no buildings obstructing the view, just the harbour and the vast expanse of sea. The sight was breathtaking, but it did little to ease the tightness in your chest.
Your fingers twitched, an old habit resurfacingâa need to occupy yourself. But there was nothing to do. Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your nerves. You were in a strangerâs home, married to a man you didnât know.
Last week, your life had been structured to the minute. Youâd had your schedule, your tasks, your carefully planned routine dictated by your father. Now, there was nothing. No orders. No tasks. You bit at your nail beds, the nervous habit making a quiet comeback as you sat back down on the bed.
The hours dragged by. At some point, you lay down on top of the covers, staring out the window. The sky shifted from blue to orange as the sun dipped lower on the horizon. Hunger gnawed at you occasionally, but you didnât dare leave the room.
Max had gone about his day as if nothing had changed. Heâd spent time on the simulator, played a few rounds online with friends, and entertained his cats. For a moment, it was easy to forget you existed.
It wasnât until he was sitting on the sofa, scratching Sassy behind her ears, that he noticed the wedding band on his finger. The sight brought him back to reality. His eyes narrowed as he realised, he hadnât heard a sound from the guest room all day.
âRidiculous.â he muttered, standing abruptly. He hesitated for a moment outside your door before knocking lightly.
When there was no immediate response, Max opened the door to find you sitting up on the bed, your dress slightly wrinkled and your legs tucked beneath you. You blinked at him, startled.
âI wasââ Max cleared his throat, his eyes flicking over you briefly before settling on your face. âIâm ordering food. What do you want?â
âAnything.â You replied softly, your voice timid and polite.
Maxâs jaw tightened. Of course, he thought bitterly. The perfect act.
He scoffed and left, the door closing behind him with more force than necessary.
When the food arrived half an hour later, Max knocked on your door again.
âFoodâs ready.â He said flatly, turning and walking back to the dining area.
You emerged hesitantly, following the faint sound of Max unpacking containers. He placed a box in front of your spot at the table before sitting down with his own.
You opened the box to find a chicken pasta dish with a side of garlic bread. The sight made you pause, your brows furrowing slightly.
âWhat?â Max asked, catching the look on your face. âYou donât like pasta?â
Quickly, you schooled your expression into a neutral smile. âNo, I like it. Thank you.â
Max narrowed his eyes, noting the sudden shift in your demeanour, but said nothing.
The meal passed in near silence, punctuated only by the occasional clink of cutlery. Max finished his food quickly, while you ate slowly, taking small, measured bites, just like you were taught. When he set his fork down, you did the same, despite having barely finished a third of your meal.
Gathering your food containers, you stood and asked quietly, âWhich way is the kitchen?â
Max pointed in the direction, watching as you disappeared briefly. You returned a moment later to collect his empty containers.
Max was perplexed by your actions; you havenât been there for 12 hours and youâre already confusing him.
From the dining room, Max could hear the sound of water running, followed by the opening and closing of cabinets. When you returned, he sighed and stood.
âIâll show you around.â He said curtly.
You followed silently as he walked through the penthouse, pointing out the various rooms. The tour ended at the door to your guest room. Taking that as your cue, you nodded politely and stepped inside, closing the door softly behind you.
The next morning, you woke early, unsure of what to do. You slipped your strapless bra back on, skipping your underwear, and pulled your dress from the day before over your head. It was wrinkled but all you had.
When you ventured out, you found Max in the living room, scrolling through his phone. At the sound of your soft throat-clearing, he looked up.
His eyes swept over you briefly, taking in the rumpled dress and your heels. âGetting married again today?â he asked, his tone dry.
 âSorry. I... I donât have any of my clothes with me.â You flinched slightly but forced a small smile.
Max stared at you for a moment, realisation dawning. He hadnât considered that youâd arrived with only your handbag.
âFuck.â He muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. Without another word, he disappeared into his bedroom, returning a moment later with a plain shirt and a pair of shorts. âThese donât fit me. You can wear them.â He said, holding them out to you.
âThank you.â You said softly, taking the clothes and retreating to your room. When you emerged a few minutes later, you were wearing his oversized shirt and shorts, which hung loosely on you.
For some reason, Max found himself staring. You looked better in his clothes, he thought absently, before shaking the thought away.
âCan I go out for a bit?â You asked hesitantly, breaking the silence.
âYeah.â Max replied, already turning back to his phone.
While you were out, Max got a call from one of his friends, inviting him to meet up for the day. He took off his wedding ring and left the apartment. He forgot about the rough week heâd been having and went out to eat and relax with his group of friends. It wasnât until around 8 p.m. that he headed home.
As he reached his floor, the automatic lights flickered on, revealing your figure slumped against the front door. You were sleeping with shopping bags scattered around you, still in his clothes, his shorts slid up showing your legs, just like the dress did, and your heels discarded by your side.
Max scoffed, walking past you and unlocking his door without a word. He glanced back at you, deliberating for a moment. Should he leave you there? Or wake you up?
Before he could decide, Jimmy sidestepped him and jumped onto you, his head diving straight into one of the bags. That was enough to stir you awake. You jolted up, confused and disoriented, clearly not remembering when youâd fallen asleep.
"Jimmy! Come here," Max called, clicking his tongue. The cat ignored him, making Max sigh in annoyance. He looked down at youâthose wide, innocent eyes staring up at himâand felt an unfamiliar mix of irritation and concern.
"Get inside," he said firmly.
You scrambled to your feet, still groggy, grabbing your bags and shoes, but not before Max noticed something red flash from the corner of his eye. He didnât focus on it, though.
âMy dad said your things would arrive in the next couple of days.â Max added casually, as if it was just another piece of information. You paused, turning to him.
"Uh, okay." You muttered in response, quickly retreating to your room.
Max narrowed his eyes but didnât press you further. He was trying to be polite, trying to make things work. Here he was asking his dad about your things, all he got was that meek âokay.â
He closed the door behind you, then went to feed his cat.
He didnât hear or see you for the rest of the day.
Two days later, two suitcases arrived. You rolled them to your room and opened them with a mix of dread and resignation. Inside were clothes you hadnât bought and wouldnât have chosen for yourself. But they were all designer brands, the kind of things you could sell if you needed the money.
You didnât want to think about it, but you knew you had no choice. You had to get by somehow.
The week went by with Max either going out, working or gaming. You spent all day in your room, but you had seen Maxâs nutritionistâs list he had left in the kitchen one day. Seeing the food heâs supposed to eat, all of it you could make. You memorized his food schedule and started preparing his meals, waking up earlier than him, just to make sure everything was ready. By lunchtime, the smell of food would fill the apartment, but Max never caught sight of you. He never heard you.
The first couple of days in his house missed with your sleeping schedule, so youâre awake way before he does, you memorised when he usually wakes up. So, heâd find food ready for him.
Days stretched on endlessly. You passed the time by reading the few books in your room, but there was no TV, no distractions. You stayed in your room, alone, only leaving to prepare Maxâs meals or feed the cats. They started to visit you more often, meowing at your door, and youâd let them in. It made the days a little less lonely, even if the fear never really went away.
Despite everything, it was still better than your life in Switzerland. Better than the life your father had forced upon you.
One day, the doorbell rang. Max was engrossed in his simulator, the headset muffling the sound entirely. After the fourth ring, you hesitantly left your room to see who it could be. Half-asleep, you padded into the living room, noticing Max still focused on his sim in the corner.
Opening the door, you froze as your heart plummeted. Standing there was your father.
"Did someone come?" Max called out from the living room, removing his headset. You shrank back, taking a few steps away from your father. Max rounded the corner, his sharp eyes darting between your pale face and the men at the door. âWhat are you two doing here?â He demanded, his tone already hard.
âWe came to talk about what comes next.â Your father replied, his voice steady but full of implication. Max stepped closer, his presence solid and unmoving beside you. Unconsciously, you edged backward, positioning yourself slightly behind him as if to shield yourself. Max noticed your movement but didnât say anythingânot yet.
âNext? What next? Weâre married.â Max shot back, crossing his arms. His posture was sharp, shoulders broad, making him look even more imposing.
âYes, but how will I get investors if no one sees you two together?â Your father raised a brow, his gaze flitting to you. You froze under his scrutiny, feeling as though the floor might give way beneath you. His eyes moved past you into the house. Â âArenât you going to invite us in?â Your father stepped forward, but Max immediately blocked his path, his stance rigid and unyielding.
âThatâs not happening.â Max said through gritted teeth. âAnd neither is whatever scheme youâre planning. Now piss off will you.â
Your fatherâs eyes narrowed, his voice dropping into a sharper tone. âListen here, boyââ
Max cut him off, stepping closer until they were nearly nose-to-nose. âNo, you listen. I married your daughter. Thatâs the deal. How you get your investors is your problem, not ours. You donât come here. You donât ask us for anything.â
Your fatherâs eyes darted toward you again, making you whimper softly. The sound was barely audible, but Max caught it instantly. He shifted, positioning himself fully in front of you, effectively blocking you from view.
âYour daughter is mine. Sheâs my wife now. You gave her to meâyour choice, your consequences,â Max growled. His words were deliberate, cutting.
Your fatherâs expression darkened as he leaned closer. âI can still expose your father.â He threatened.
Maxâs gaze flickered to Jos for a moment before refocusing. He felt the faint tug on his shirt where your fingers clutched the fabric, trembling. Whatever hesitation he had vanished entirely.
âThen do it.â Max bit out, his voice cold and venomous. âExpose him. And when it all falls apart, youâll suffer just as much as him.â
Without giving your father, a chance to respond, Max slammed the door in their faces.
The moment the latch clicked, your hand released his shirt, and you took a shaky step back. Max was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he tried to calm himself.
âIâll have to talk to security about keeping them out.â He muttered, his voice low.
âIâm sorry.â You whispered, barely audible.
Max turned to you, his eyes softening despite himself. You were on the verge of tears, and it was written all over your face.
âItâs not your fault,â Max said, his tone gentler than youâd ever heard it before.
Before the tears could spill, you turned and hurried to your room. His cats trailed after you, their tails swishing curiously. Max stood there for a moment, staring after you, wondering when his pets had gotten so attached to you.
In your room, you curled up on the bed, pulling the covers tightly around you as emotions overwhelmed you. Seeing your father again stirred everything you had tried to suppress. This was the longest youâd ever been away from him. Even when he was on business trips, his presence loomed over you through cameras and speakers. If you stepped out of line, even slightly, his voice would thunder through the house, ensuring you never forgot he was watching.
No one had ever stepped up for you. The staff in your fatherâs home were emotionless, stoicâjust following orders. No one had ever comforted you, protected you, or even looked at you with kindness.
But today, Max had stood up for you. Max, who barely tolerated your existence, had blocked your father and shielded you. Max who has no idea what kind of relationship you have with your father. Maybe it was out of anger or frustration with the situation, but it didnât matter. For the first time, someone had been in your corner.
The realization hit you like a wave, and the tears came. You sobbed quietly, your body shaking under the covers. The loneliness is killing you, why are you even living, what do you do in your day, no one will miss you if youâre gone. You tried not to think such dark thoughts but times like this you couldnât help it.
The cats jumped onto the bed, circling you. Sassy licked your face, her rough tongue brushing away some of the tears. You patted her head softly, whispering a thank-you under your breath. Maybe theyâd miss you if you were gone.
The next morning, Max was by the door, bags packed for two weeks of racing. The apartment was eerily silentâsomething he usually didnât mind. But after hearing you cry last night, the quiet felt heavy.
Heâd paced in his room for hours, debating whether to check on you. Max might not like you, but he wasnât heartless. He hated hearing anyone cry, especially women. When he finally decided to go to your door, the sobs had slowed, and he didnât want to risk waking you.
Now, standing by the door, he hesitated again. Eventually, he knocked softly.
âIâm leaving now. Iâll be gone for two weeks.â He said, his voice awkward but trying.
There was silence for a moment before your muffled voice came through. âOkay. Thank you.â It cracked on the last syllable, heavy with sadness. âGood luck.â
âThanks.â Max replied, lingering for a second before leaving. He didnât know what else to say, but he couldnât ignore the tightness in his chest.
Max had thought about you more than heâd like to admit. His thoughts kept drifting back to you, no matter how much he tried to push them away. He didnât like you, he knew next to nothing about you. Yet, somehow, he felt much less dislike toward you now. The truth gnawed at him: he barely knew you. Still, heâd left you in his home with his cats and had lived with you for over a week before heading to the race.
For once, Max couldnât wait to get home. He was the first out of the paddock, the first on the plane, and the first off it when they landed. By the time he walked into the house, it was nighttime. The air inside was cool and still, the lights turned off, and the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound.
Jimmy and Sassy came trotting out from somewhere, nuzzling into him in greeting. Max bent down to stroke them absently, his mind already drifting. He headed to the kitchen for a drink, opening the fridge. Frowning, he pulled out a bottle of water. Everything inside was exactly as heâd left itânothing had changed. No empty shelves, no dishes used. The realization unsettled him.
Max closed the fridge and moved to the pantry, only to find the same: untouched, just as it had been before.
A strange thought crept in, and his chest tightened as he turned on his heel, heading to your room. Your door was slightly ajar, and alarm bells went off in his mind. You always kept it closed.
âY/N?â He called softly, knocking lightly before pushing it open.
The room was eerily tidy. The bed was made with military precision, the same way his mother liked to do it. Nothing was out of place, nothing personal added. It was as if no one had lived in it at all. Maxâs heartbeat quickened as panic set in. Where were you?
He searched the houseâyour bathroom, the laundry room, even his own bedroom. You werenât there. Finally, he ended up in the living room, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration.
Jimmy meowed loudly, trotting toward the terrace door, which was slightly ajar. Max frowned and followed him, pushing the door open wider.
The sight stopped him in his tracks.
You were lying on the floor of the terrace, flat on your back, eyes closed. Sassy was curled up next to you, and Jimmy padded over to join her. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Max thought the worst.
âY/N?â His voice wavered as he rushed over, dropping to his knees beside you. âY/N?â He repeated, louder this time, hands hovering over you as though afraid to touch. âAre you okay?â
He shook you gently, then harder when you didnât respond. âY/N!â
Your eyes snapped open with a sharp gasp, and you bolted uprightâright into Maxâs forehead.
âFuck!â He groaned, clutching his head as you did the same.
âOh my God, Iâm sorry!â You exclaimed, reaching for him instinctively. âI didnât mean toâare you okay?â
Max glared at you, rubbing the sore spot. âI should be asking you that. Why the hell were you sleeping out here?â
You looked away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. âI wanted to see the stars.â
âIn your pyjamas? On the floor? Itâs freezing, Y/N!â His exasperation was palpable, but there was a hint of something else beneath itâconcern.
You bit your lip, nodding, wishing you could disappear. âIâm sorry.â
Max sighed heavily, standing and extending a hand to help you up. âCome inside before you get sick.â
In the kitchen, under the bright lights, Max finally got a good look at you. You looked exhaustedâdarker circles under your eyes than before, your frame thinner, your movements sluggish. He couldnât shake the gnawing feeling that something was deeply wrong.
âHere.â You placed an ice pack wrapped in a towel against his forehead, your fingers brushing his skin lightly. Max caught the faint scent of lavender and something softer, uniquely you.
âIâm fine,â He muttered, gently taking the ice pack from you. âBut you should have one too.â
You hesitated before nodding, fetching another ice pack for yourself. As you pressed it to your own forehead with a quiet hiss, Max leaned against the counter, studying you.
âWhy didnât you eat any of the food in the fridge?â He asked suddenly.
Your eyes widened in panic. âI didnât touch anything, I swearââ Your hands falling to your side brining the pack with you.
âDonât put it down.â Your hands flew back up. âI know you didnât,â Max interrupted, his tone softer now. âThatâs the problem. What have you been eating?â
âI buy my own food.â You mumbled, looking anywhere but at him. Everything you do and say just confuses him more.
Max frowned. âAnd you donât put it in the fridge?â
âI did.â You said quickly. âI just⌠ran out.â
His brow furrowed further. âYou donât eat anything from my food?â
You shook your head. âI didnât want to intrude.â
Max stared at you, his chest tightening. âSo, let me get this straight: you cooked meals for me, but you didnât make anything for yourself because you didnât want to use my food? Seriously, Y/N, what have you been eating?â
âYeah.â You said it like it was obvious, you then hesitated. âI managed⌠Do you not want me to cook for you anymore?â
âNo, thatâs not what Iâm saying.â Max sighed. âIâm saying you can cook yourself food while cooking for me.â
âButâŚâ You trail off feeling embarrassed of what you have to say.
âWhat? Tell me.â Max said and you meet his eyes for a second before you look at the floor.
âYour food is expensive; I donât have a lot of money.â You mumble and chew at your lip. Max stands there in silence, he knew your dad is going bankrupt but not enough to not have money.
âYour cards are empty?â Max asked, his tone a bit cold. It wasnât directed or because of you, but the more he finds out about your dad the more agitated he gets.
âI uh, I donât have a card.â You admit and put the ice pack on the counter, you try to escape the kitchen and this conversation.
âWait.â You stop in your tracks and turn to face Max, knowing thereâs no escaping this now. âWhat else are you hiding from me? How have you been paying for your food, and you went shopping on your first day?â
His eyes narrowed, clearly unconvinced by your words, and your mind flashed back to that first week in Monaco, just after you arrived.
You had left the apartment, the weight of Maxâs indifferent nod still heavy on your shoulders. Monaco was unfamiliar, but youâd lived in many countriesâsurely you could figure it out.
Walking into the first jewellery shop you found, you approached the counter with a timid smile. The attendant greeted you warmly.
Italic is French
âBonjour, madame, how can I help you?â
You hesitated before asking, âDo you buy jewellery?â
The womanâs friendly smile faltered. âIâm sorry, madame. We donât.â
âThatâs alright, thank you.â You murmured, retreating quickly.
The next three shops were the same story, the polite rejections wearing away at your resolve. By the fourth, a kind attendant told you there werenât any jewellery shops in the area that would buy second-hand pieces, but she gave you directions to one on the other side of the city.
Following her directions, you trudged through unfamiliar streets, the cobblestones cruel to your feet in towering heels. The mismatched outfit you got from Max, drawing unwanted attention and making the walk even more uncomfortable.
Finally, you reached the shop and stepped inside, relief washing over you.
âBonjour, madame. How can I assist you?â The girl behind the counter asked with a professional smile.
âDo you buy jewellery?â
âYes, we do. What are you looking to sell?â
You exhaled deeply, reaching up to remove the Tiffany Victoria stud earrings from your ears. âThese.â
The girlâs eyes widened as she took them. âT-These?â
âYes. Can you pay in cash?â This just got weirder for the girl, you bit your bottom lip, your smile is now gone. âLook, my-uh, my dad cut me off, I just need money to get by.â
The girlâs expression shifted from confusion to concern as she glanced at you. âUm⌠Iâll see what I can do. Please, sit down.â
You sank into a chair, your nerves fraying. you sat chewing on your nail bed, feeling nervous. When the girl returned, she wasnât alone. A man accompanied her, likely the manager or owner.
âIlaria tells me you want to sell these earrings.â He began, holding them up to inspect.
âYes, please.â
His brow furrowed.
âMadame, these are worth over 27,000 Euros. Unfortunately, we donât carry that much cash on hand.â You deflated, the man now knew what Ilaria was talking about, he feels bad for you, he glanced at your wedding ring and wonders what kind of husband you have that left you selling your belongings for money. âHowever, I can offer you 5,000 Euros immediately and pay the rest in instalments, or when the earrings sell. Does that work for you?â
You nodded, overwhelmed with gratitude. âYes, that would be perfect. Thank you.â
The man typed up a quick agreement on his laptop, printing it out for you both to sign. With the cash in hand, you left the shop feeling lighter, though the weight of what youâd done lingered.
The thrift store you passed on the way had looked promising, but once inside, you realised even second-hand items in Monaco carried hefty price tags. Thinking over the money you have and whatâs the priority.You focused on the essentials: four shirts, one pair of jeans, one pair of trousers, and two pyjamas. The total price had your eyes go wide. Shoes would have to waitâyour heels would suffice for now.
On your walk back it was already afternoon, you didnât have anything to eat yet. But that was alright because you were heading to a grocery store next.
The prices there were equally shocking, but you told yourself it didnât matterâyou didnât eat much anyway. You picked up a few basics for the week and some fresh produce before heading to a shop for a few sets of underwear. Glancing at the money you have left when you paid had your heart clenching. Ordering online must be cheaper, if only you had a card.
By the time you returned to the apartment, your arms heavy with bags and your wallet considerably lighter, you knocked on the door, only to be met with silence. A second knock, then the doorbell, brought no response.
Your stomach dropped as you realised Max wasnât home. Exhausted and hungry, you sank to the floor outside the door, rummaging through your grocery bag for a cucumber, eating it as you waited for your âhusbandâ to come back.
You waited until Max went to bed before you ventured into the kitchen to put away the food youâd bought. The rest, you stashed in your room. You didnât want to inconvenience Max.
You were already using his bathroom products, which you assumed belonged to his mother or sister, but you tried to keep to yourself as much as possible.
The memory faded as Maxâs voice brought you back to the present.
âHow exactly did you manage?â He pressed, his eyes narrowing further.
Your shoulders sagged, and the words slipped out before you could stop them. âI sold my earrings.â
Maxâs brow furrowed. âYour earrings?â
âThey were worth twenty-seven thousand Euros.â You explained, your voice barely audible. âBut theyâre paying me in instalments, so itâs like I have a job. I didnât realize how expensive Monaco is.â
He stared at you, unblinking, as the pieces began falling into place.
Maxâs jaw clenched. âWhat about the clothes? I thought your dad sent your things.â
Your face fell, and you looked away. âI canât wear what he sent me.â
âWhat do you mean?â Max asked, his voice gentler now. âCan you show me?â
You hesitated, but the look in his eyes told you he wasnât letting this go. Wordlessly, you led him to your room and opened the walk-in closet, both your ice packs forgotten in the kitchen. Pulling out the suitcases your father had sent, your hand was on the zipper for a while.
âYou donât have to show me.â Max said feeling that all this is bigger than he initially thought.
âItâs fine, itâs not my things anyway.â You said and unzipped the first one and stepped back.
Max crouched down, pulling out the first item: itâs a very small and tight crop top, the shorts will all show your butt, the jeans had rips on the butt cheeks or were skintight, and itâs coming from him. shirts were sheer, necklines low, and skirts that barely covered anything. His frown deepened as he opened the second suitcaseâheels in every colour, some taller than seemed practical. The final suitcase made his stomach turn. It was filled with lingerie, nothing else.
He closed it with a sharp snap and turned to look at you. You were standing with your arms wrapped around yourself, avoiding his gaze.
âIâll take you shopping this week.â Max said firmly. âOr you can order whatever you want online. No arguments.â
You shook your head. âItâs fine, really. I the got basics and when I need more, I can sell the other jewellery I haveââ
âNo, next time you want clothes Iâm getting them for youâ Max interrupted, his tone leaving no room for debate. âYouâre not selling anything else. The food in the fridge is for both of us.â You wanted to retort, but he just continued. âBoth of us may have not wanted this, but Iâm not having you starve or spend money you donât have. Youâre my responsibility now.â
The words hit you like a tidal wave, and your heart skipped a beat. Max Verstappen is the nicest man you have ever met. He looked so scary the first time you saw him and you dreaded living with him, but here he is, being the kindest soul, you have ever met. He wonât gain anything in return but heâs still nice, heâs kind. For the first time in a long while, you felt safeâtruly safe. Tears prickled your eyes, but you blinked them back, nodding quietly.
âOkay?â Max asked, his gaze softening.
âOkay,â you whispered.
That night, the suitcases were left by the door for donation. Max watched as you retreated to your room, and he made a promise to himself to be more attentive, to keep an eye out for you.
That night, Max decided it was time to reach out to you. Hearing your quiet sobs and observing your timid behaviour had forced him to confront an uncomfortable truth: you werenât the only one forced into this marriage. For you, it must be infinitely harder. He had his friends, his job, and the comfort of his own home. You had none of that.
The next morning, Max woke early, ordering food for the both of you before you could wake and make breakfast yourself. He wanted to catch you off guard and show a gesture of goodwill.
When you finally emerged from your room, the smell of freshly baked goods wafted through the apartment.
âGood morning. Max greeted, passing you as he carried plates to the dining table. âCome on, grab whatever you want, and letâs eat together.â
You paused, wide-eyed and uncertain, watching him retreat to the dining room. Your stomach growled loudly, betraying your hesitance. Without overthinking it, you reached for a croissant and followed him.
âThank you.â You murmured, sitting across from him as you noticed the glass of orange juice already poured for you.
Max glanced up. âIâd like us to talk a little after breakfast.â He said, his tone calm.
You froze mid-bite, your stomach tightening as fear flickered across your face. âTalk?â
âDonât worry.â He reassured, noting your reaction. âI just want to get to know you better.â
Relieved, you exhaled a breath you hadnât realised you were holding. But as you ate, your mind spun. What would he ask? You hadnât spoken much about yourself to anyone before. The way youâd been raised didnât leave much room for idle conversation or personal interests. You have been taught what to do for when you got married, but Max is unlike anything theyâve told you a husband will be like.
After finishing breakfast, the two of you moved to the living room. You sat stiffly, your back straight and your hands folded neatly in your lap. Max, sitting on the other end of the sofa, observed you with a faint smile.
âRelax.â He said lightly, leaning forward. âThis isnât an interrogation. I just thought we could set some boundaries or rules and figure out how to make this work for both of us.â
You nodded, unsure of what to expect. âRules?â Rules you understood. You could follow rules.
âFirst.â Max began. âYou donât have to cook for me.â
You frowned slightly. âI like to cook.â
âThatâs fine, then.â Max said quickly. âBut itâs not something you have to do. Same with taking care of Jimmy and Sassy.â
Your frown deepened. âBut then⌠what would I do?â
Max hesitated, realising how rigid your perspective was. âYou can do whatever you want. What did you do before⌠you came here?â
âWellâŚâ You paused, uncertain. âDad had a schedule for me.â
âSchedule?â Max raised a brow. âLike, what kind of schedule?â
âI woke up at six, exercised for an hour, showered, then had classes until three. After lunch, I went to ballet for two hours, then a piano class for an hour and a half. Then I helped with dinner and went to bed.â
âEvery day?â Max asked, his tone incredulous.
You nodded, smiling as though this was entirely normal. âThe times changed sometimes, but⌠yes, since I was 12.â
âFucking hell.â Max muttered, his jaw tightening. Memories of his own gruelling training sessions under his fatherâs watch flashed through his mind. The times he had to train for hours on end, walk home alone. But Max loved racing, he thrived in it. And unlike him, you didnât seem to have any passion or choice in what you did.
Pushing his anger aside, Max decided to steer the conversation away from your father for now. âWhy didnât you buy more food while I was gone?â
âI donât have a key.â You said simply, scratching nervously at your nail bedâa habit Max noticed for the first time.
âThatâs on me.â He admitted. âIâll get a key made for you.â
He paused, his gaze softening. âHow much food do you usually eat?â
You shrugged, not giving it much thought. âEnough.â
âAre you full when you finish eating?â
Your voice was quiet. âNot always.â
Maxâs expression darkened, his jaw tightening again. âRight. Thatâs it. Iâm ordering more food.â
Despite your protests, Max ignored you, placing a large order with the determination to figure out what you liked. When the food arrived, you stared in disbelief at the sheer amount spread across the table.
âThatâs too much.â You whispered, overwhelmed.
âJust eat,â Max said firmly.
At first, you hesitated, but the hunger gnawing at your stomach made you give in. Bite after bite, Max urged you to try different dishes. âThis is amazingâtaste it!â heâd insist, or âYouâll love this one.â
You tried to keep up, but the more you ate, the heavier the food sat in your stomach. Not eating a lot had shrunk your stomach, you get full fast, but it seemed like something Max is not accustomed to. When Max handed you another dessert to try, your body couldnât take it anymore. Springing up, you rushed to the nearest bathroom and barely made it in time before throwing up.
Max was right behind you, holding your hair back as you emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet. You finally sat back, trembling and exhausted, you flushed the toilet and washed your face and mouth. He handed you a towel to wipe your face.
âAre you okay?â He asked, his voice laced with concern.
You nodded weakly.
âWas the food bad?â
You shook your head. âToo full.â
Max stared at you, dumbfounded. âWhy didnât you stop eating?â
âYou told me to keep eating.â You said, looking at him through your lashes.
Max groaned, running a hand through his hair as the pieces fell into place. You asked him if you could go out the first day, you stayed in your room unless he asked you to come out or to make him food, you stop walking when he told you to, youâve showed him your bags when he asked. Youâve been doing exactly what heâs been asking you to do without as much as a remark or hesitation. You havenât left the house to get food because he didnât tell you, you can leave. This is fucked. âYou donât need my permission to stop eating, or to do anything for that matter!â
âBut my teacher said I should always ask you, Iâm sorry that I sometimes do things without asking, but-â
âStop.â His sharp tone made you fall silent immediately, he groans, heâs done it again. He sighed, softening his voice. âRule number one: you donât need to ask me for permission to live your life. You can do whatever you want. Iâm your husband, not your⌠owner.â
âButââ
âNo buts.â Max leaned forward, his eyes locking with yours. âYouâre free, Y/N. Youâre not under your fatherâs control anymore. You can pursue whatever makes you happy, go wherever you want. Youâre free.â
Your lips trembled slightly as his words sank in. âA-Are you sure?â
âYes, Iâm sure,â Max said firmly, but his voice softened when he saw the fragile hope in your eyes. For a fleeting moment, it was as though a veil had been lifted. The small, hesitant smile on your face wasnât much, but to him, it felt like a victory.
âI⌠Iâve never really thought about being free.â You admitted, your fingers twisting together in your lap. âThereâs always been rules, schedules, expectations. I wouldnât even know where to start.â
Maxâs heart ached at your words. He had grown up under his fatherâs strict guidance, but at least he had racingâa dream to hold onto. But you? You hadnât even been allowed the space to dream.
âThen start small,â Max said gently. âYou donât have to figure it all out today. Weâll take it one step at a time.â
Your smile wavered as a question formed on your lips. âWhy are you being so kind to me now?â
The question caught Max off guard, but he didnât look away. âBecause Iâve been an idiot.â he admitted. âI was so focused on how unfair this whole situation was for me that I didnât stop to think about how much worse it must be for you. Youâre here, in a place thatâs completely unfamiliar, with someone you barely know.â
You blinked, your lashes fluttering as tears threatened to spill.
âAnd the more I think about it.â Max continued, his voice tinged with angerânot at you, but at the circumstances. âThe more I realise how much youâve been⌠controlled. By your father, by this arrangement. I canât change the past, but I can make sure you donât feel like that anymore. Not while youâre here with me.â
Your breath hitched, and a tear slipped down your cheek. You wiped it away quickly, embarrassed by your reaction. âI donât know what to say.â
âYou donât have to say anything,â Max said softly. âJust⌠promise me youâll try. Try to let yourself live a little, yeah?â
âI can try.â You whispered.
He smiled, a genuine warmth in his expression that you hadnât seen before. âGood. Thatâs all Iâm asking for.â
For the rest of the evening, Max stayed close but didnât push you further. He handed you the remote to the television and suggested you pick something to watch while he cleaned up the kitchen. At first, you stared at the remote like it was a foreign object, unsure if you were really allowed to make the choice.
When Max returned, he saw you had settled on a light-hearted comedy, though you looked almost guilty about it. He sat beside you on the sofa, keeping a respectful distance.
âGood choice.â He said, nodding at the screen. âI like this one.â
âReally?â You asked, surprised.
âYeah. Itâs funny.â He glanced at you. âDo you not like it?â
âNo, I do. I just⌠Iâm not used to picking.â
Maxâs chest tightened. He didnât know whether to feel anger at the people who had conditioned you this way or frustration at himself for not seeing it sooner.
âWell, from now on, you can pick whatever you like.â He said with a small shrug, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
You nodded, a tiny but genuine smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.
As the film played, Max stole a few glances at you. You didnât laugh out loud at the jokes, but he could see the faintest quirk of your lips, the way your shoulders relaxed just slightly. It wasnât much, but it was progress.
When the credits rolled, you turned to him, your expression a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. âThank you, Max. For⌠everything today.â
He waved it off, leaning back against the cushions. âDonât mention it. This is just the start, yeah?â
You nodded again, the hope in your eyes a little brighter this time. For the first time in years, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could get better.
The next day, you heard Max calling for Jimmy. His voice carried through the house with growing urgency. Curiosity tugged at you, so you stepped out of your room to see what was going on.
âHave you seen Jimmy?â Max asked as soon as he spotted you in the hallway.
You shook your head. âNo, I havenât.â
âStrange, he never wanders off too far. Letâs check around the house.â Max suggested.
You nodded, and the two of you began searching every nook and cranny. As you walked past one of the guest rooms, you stopped and tugged at the handle of the door. It didnât budge.
âI canât open this door.â you called out to Max, who quickly came over.
He gave the handle a firm tug but had no more luck than you. âItâs locked from the inside.â He muttered, pressing his ear to the door. Thatâs when you both heard itâa muffled, distressed meow.
âI think Jimmy locked himself in.â You said, your voice tinged with concern. âWhat are we going to do?â
Max frowned, considering his options. âLetâs look it up on YouTube.â He said, pulling out his phone.
The two of you stood shoulder to shoulder, watching a video tutorial on unlocking a door without a key. The longer the video played, the more your frown deepened.
âThis looks complicated.â You said, glancing up at Max, who seemed equally dubious.
âYeah, it does.â He admitted before disappearing down the hallway. Moments later, he returnedâwith a hammer.
âYouâre going to break the door down?â You asked, your eyes wide in disbelief.
âWhat other option do we have?â Max countered, already sizing up the door as though it were a rival on the track.
Before you could argue, he raised the hammer and brought it down with a loud bang. You flinched at the sound, your astonishment quickly turning to amusement. Holding Maxâs phone in your hands, an idea struck you.
As Max continued to hack away at the doorâhis small hammer looking almost comically inadequate against the solid woodâyou began recording. The absurdity of the scene combined with Maxâs intense focus had you giggling quietly.
Max paused mid-swing, glancing over his shoulder when he heard your laughter. He smiled to himself. The sound was soft and delicate, like something fragile coming back to life. He decided then and there he wanted to hear it more often.
Finally, after several minutes of determined hammering, Max managed to break a hole large enough to reach through and unlock the door. As soon as the door creaked open, Jimmy bolted out of the room like his tail was on fire, his fur puffed up and his eyes wild with panic.
âThat was⌠something.â Max said, running a hand through his hair as he headed to the kitchen. He set the hammer down on the counter and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, taking a long sip.
You followed him into the kitchen, your focus still on the phone. The video youâd taken was playing, and a smile tugged at your lips as you watched Maxâs determined hammer-wielding.
Max turned to you, noticing your amusement. âI want to give you, my number.â He said suddenly, his tone casual despite the faint flush creeping up his ears.
âHmm?â You hummed, looking up from the phone.
âMy number.â Max repeated, shifting slightly, the tips of his ears went red. âIn case something happens, besides youâre married now. You should have each otherâs numbers at least.â
âOh.â You said, handing his phone back to him. âI donât have a phone.â
Max froze, staring at you like youâd just announced you didnât believe in electricity.
âYou donât have a phone?â He asked, his voice laced with disbelief.
You shook your head. âNo. My dad said it was a waste of time and that it was better for me to focus on my training. He said it was for my protection⌠from guys online.â You shrugged, your tone casual as though it were the most normal thing in the world.
Max set his water bottle down with a heavy thud, his jaw tightening. âI hate that man more every day.â He muttered under his breath.
You blinked at his reaction, confused by the intensity in his voice. âItâs not that big of a deal.â You said, brushing it off.
âIt is.â Max said firmly. âYouâre getting a phone tomorrow.â
You opened your mouth to protest but stopped yourself. The truth was, youâd always secretly wanted a phone. It had seemed like a symbol of freedomâsomething you never had. And now, Max was offering to get you one without you even asking.
âOkay.â You said softly, a small grin spreading across your face.
Max noticed and couldnât help but smile in return. He picked up his water bottle and took another sip, his chest filling with quiet satisfaction.
Just then, Jimmy sauntered into the kitchen as if nothing had happened, his tail held high and his expression one of utter nonchalance.
âLook at that troublemaker.â Max said with a chuckle, watching as Jimmy headed straight for his water bowl. âActing like he didnât just give us a heart attack.â
You laughed again, and Max found himself smiling even wider. Yes, he decided. He would make sure you laughed more oftenâno matter what it took.
The next morning, you make breakfast for both you and Max. Itâs a quiet meal, shared in comfortable silence, before you both retreat to your rooms to finish getting ready. Dressed in one of the shirts and jeans you bought, you hold your heels in your hands as you head to the door. Slipping them on, you wince slightly as the straps press against the tender skin at the back of your feet. Max steps out shortly after, and together you leave the penthouse.
The car ride is tranquil, with you staring out the window for a while before glancing around.
âI like this car.â You say softly, running your fingers over the leather seat. Max smiles, his hands relaxed on the steering wheel. Heâs driving the same Aston Martin today, saving the Valkyrie for another time. It gets him too much attention.
âCan you drive?â Max asks after a moment, glancing at you.
Your cheeks flush. âNo.â
He hums thoughtfully. âWeâll have to change that.â Thereâs a note of determination in his voice. Heâs a Formula 1 world champion; his wife will know how to drive. âYou do want to learn, right?â
âYes. Maybe not in a supercar, but yes.â You admit with a small smile. Another form of freedom youâd been denied. Another gift Max wanted to give you.
âWeâll start with a sedan.â He says, already planning out the details in his mind.
At the Apple Store, Max leads you inside, where you both gravitate toward a display of phones.
âWhat colour do you want?â He asks, standing close beside you. After a moment of contemplation, you tell him your favourite. Max nods, relaying the choice to a sales assistant, and adds a laptop, iPad, mouse, earbuds, earphones, and a phone case to the list.
âThatâs too much.â You whisper, leaning toward him.
Max takes your hand gently, and you freeze, startled by the unexpected intimacy. His gaze is steady, his voice low so only you can hear. âItâs not too much. I want to give you everything you werenât allowed to have.â His thumb brushes over your wedding ring, and his lips curve into a soft smile. âThis is just the beginning.â
Reluctantly, you let him take the lead, wandering around the store as Max finalises the purchases. But after a while, your feet begin to ache, and you take a seat in one of the chairs near the display laptops. The relief is immediate, but you can feel the cut on your heel reopening.
From across the store, Max notices you frown as you touch your foot. His sharp eyes take in the subtle signs of discomfort, and when he sees you sigh, he excuses himself from the cashier. He walks over, carrying the bags, just as you look up and smile at himâa real smile, one that lights up your face.
It stops him in his tracks. For the first time, Max feels the warmth of your happiness directed at him, and heâs momentarily stunned. But as you stand, he notices the slight wince and follows your gaze. His eyes fall to your feet, he canât see anything. He makes you walk in front of him and then he sees it, the backs of your feet are red and bleeding.
âY/n.â He says his voice a mix of concern and frustration. You glance at him, confused, until you notice where heâs looking.
âMax.â you murmur softly, instinctively stepping to the side.
âTake them off.â He says through gritted teeth, crouching beside you.
Your cheeks burn as you look around the store, worried about the eyes on you both. âMaxââ
âYouâre in pain. Take them off.â He insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. When you hesitate, Max gently sets the bags down and reaches for your foot.
âMax!â You protest, placing your hands on his shoulders to stop him. He looks up at you, his eyes blazing with determination, and your resolve crumbles. Slowly, you step out of one heel, using his shoulder for balance, and then the other. The relief is instant.
Max clenches his jaw as he examines the heels. They look pristine on the outside, but the insides are stained with bloodâboth fresh and old. His chest tightens.
Standing, he towers over you, the anger in his eyes sharp enough to make you step back. âDo you even like wearing heels?â He asks, his voice tense. You shake your head, unsure how to answer.
âNot really.â You admit quietly.
âDamn it, y/n!â Maxâs voice rises slightly, and you flinch, your heart was beating hard in your chest. He freezes, his frustration giving way to dread as he sees you retreat. Youâre scared. Not of the world champion standing before you, but of what he representedâa shadow of your past. Gone the smile you had when you saw him, youâre frowning, trying to be in control of your feeling and reactions.
âY/nââ You turn abruptly, walking away on bare feet, your steps hurried. âWait!â Max calls after you, and you freeze in place. âFuck.â
Max hates himself so much right now. Tears threatening to spill from your eyes as he approaches you. Heâs taken so many steps towards making you comfortable and here heâs undone most of them. Max leaves the bags and heels and walks up to you, he takes your hand in his and pulls you out of the store. He quickly finds a hidden spot way from praying eyes and ears. When he finally faces you, he sees the tears in your eyes and wobbling lips. âShit, fuck, Iâm sorry, Iâm really sorry.â Tears leave your eyes, and Max feels himself tearing up, he messed up, he messed up really bad.
âI didnât mean to be angry at you, Iâm sorry.â He says, his voice breaking. âIâm just angry about how you were treated, I want you to be happy, I want to make your life easier. Iâm angry at how no one cared enough to stop it. But I rushed you, and thatâs on me.â Max stops for a second, youâre not looking at him. âThatâs a lot of Iâs, I was selfish, I thought about how I wanted you to feel and now how you wanted to take things, I rushed you, Iâm sorry. Iâm sorry, I remind you of him.â His voice cracks.
A sob escapes your lips, and before you can stop yourself, youâre leaning into him. Max wraps his arms around you tightly, holding you as you cry. For the first time, youâre not crying alone, you werenât hugging and comforting yourself. He doesnât try to shush you or pull away. He just holds you.
Max may have caused you to cry, but he didnât leave you to cry, he came after you and apologised. You know that as much as everything heâs doing is new to you, itâs also new to him. Every day youâre realising that youâre not normal, that what you went through isnât normal.
âWhen youâre ready.â Max murmurs into your hair. âIâd like to know everything. Everything your dad did to you.â You shake your head, and though it pains him, Max doesnât push. âWhen youâre ready.â he repeats.
You donât know how long you stay there, shielded by his embrace, Max just holds you, hiding your face from the world, giving you the comfort you need. When you finally pull away, Max wipes the tears from your cheeks.
âLetâs go home.â He says softly, crouching to untie his shoes and place them in front of you.
âMax, you donât have toââ You begin your voice is ever soft, clearly youâre exhausted..
âHumour me.â He insists with a small smile. You nod, sliding your feet into the oversized shoes as Max ties the laces snugly.
At the car, you slip in and Max turns on the car before he jogs back to the store to grab the bags but returns empty-handed when it comes to your heels. He tosses them in a nearby bin, not wanting their memory to linger.
The drive back is quiet. Both of you are lost in thought, but the silence is no longer uncomfortable. Itâs reflective.
The car ride back is heavy with unspoken thoughts. Youâre lost in the moment you flinched and stepped away from Max. He hadnât even raised his voice by much, his hands remained by his sides, yet you flinched. Scared.
You didnât want to feel scared. You knew, deep down, that there was no reason to be scared. Max cares. Heâs shown you more kindness and humility than anyone else in your life, even during the days when he ignored your existence.
For Max, the silence in the car speaks volumes. Heâs seen his share of abuseâread about it, watched it unfold in the mediaâbut now, sitting beside you, heâs realising the extent of your mistreatment. It wasnât just mental or emotional. It was physical, too.
The quiet lingers as you both walk into the penthouse. Max turns to you, his expression soft.
âYou can get changed, and weâll set up your devices,â he says.
You nod and retreat to your room, shedding the thrift store clothes for your pyjamas. The soft fabric feels like a balm after the dayâs events.
When you return to the living room, Max has unpacked everything from the bags. He looks up at you, his expression warm.
âI wanted you to open the boxes.â He says, his voice almost shy. He knows the joy of opening something new, especially something youâve wanted for so long. He wonders if youâve ever had that experience. Sitting beside him on the sofa, you tuck your legs under you. âWhere do you want to start?â
âThe phone?â You suggest.
Max grins, handing you the box. You unwrap it, excitement bubbling in your chest. He guides you through setting it up, letting you explore while he works on the laptop. Heâs already created an email for you, logging into everything you might need.
His number is the only contact in your phone, and you ask him to transfer the video of him breaking the door. He obliges with a faint chuckle.
âMax?â You ask hesitantly, looking up from the screen.
He hums in response, glancing over.
âIs there an app for Formula 1?â
His brow arches. âYes. Why?â
âSo, I can know when youâre racing.â You admit shyly, holding out your phone. Maxâs smile softens as he opens the App Store. âNow I can also look up anything I didnât understand from watching last time.â
âYou watched the race?â This is news to max; he had no idea you watched the last two races. Itâs something youâve done on his smart TV but didnât want him to know at first thinking heâd be angry.
âI didnât.â Max admits. âDid you enjoy it?â
Your smile grows, and it feels like the first time Max has seen you truly at ease. âIt was fun. I didnât understand everything, but you came first both times.â
The pride in your voice makes his chest swell. âWell, now you can text me if you donât understand something. After the race, Iâll explain everything.â
As the day unfolds, you grow more comfortable beside him on the sofa. Max helps you connect everything to your phone, downloading apps like Netflix and upgrading his Spotify to a duo plan. At some point, he broaches another idea.
âCan I order you some shoes?â
You glance up from your phone, hesitant. âJust one or two.â You say.
Max nods with a smile, but later, as he sits with his laptop, he realises he has no idea where to start. Heâs never shopped for womenâs shoes before. After a moment, he glances at you.
âDo you mind if I invite some friends tomorrow?â
You blink, surprised. âItâs your house. You can do whatever you want.â
âAnd you live here too.â Max counters gently. He sends a quick text before adding. âLetâs watch a film.â
You pick a random movie, and as night falls, the weight of the day catches up with you. The popcorn bowl between you grow forgotten as your eyes drift shut. At one point your eyes snap shut and donât open again your head eventually tilts to the side, landing on Maxâs shoulder.
Startled, Max glances down. For a moment, he freezes, unsure what to do. Your soft breathing fans his neck. Max tried not to move much but get you in a comfortable position, you groaned when he moved and buried your face into his shoulder. Maxâs arm was in the air, he didnât know what to do. When you moved closer, he placed his arm around your shoulder. That settled you down and he relaxes.
By the time the credits roll, Max thought itâs best to get you to bed. Carefully, he moves, trying not to wake you. He slides from under you, laying you down on the sofa before scooping you into his arms.
In your room, Max pulls back the covers and places you on the bed, tucking you in as you mumble incoherently. Jimmy jumps up onto the bed, curling up beside you. Max lingers for a moment, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
For the first time, you look peaceful. Truly relaxed.          Â
Max opened the lamp by the bed, casting a soft glow in the room, Jimmy jumped on the bed and curled into himself to fall asleep. Max took you in, heâs never seen you so relaxed before, so at peace. He wonders if itâs the only time you truly relax. Instinctively he pushes a few strands form your face. You sigh. With a soft smile Max turns off the lamp and leaves your room.
That night, Sassy sleeps in his bed, as if the cats have decided to split their time between you both, keeping you company in their own way.
The next day, around noon, Maxâs friends arrived. You werenât sure what to expect, but stepping out of your room, you froze when you saw the familiar face of the Ferrari driver who had been racing against Max last week.
âHi, Iâm Charles.â He introduced himself warmly, leaning in for the traditional Monaco greeting. You exchanged a quick press of the cheeks before your gaze shifted to the woman standing beside him. She was stunning, elegant, and radiated a warmth that put you slightly at ease.
âIâm Alexandra, but you can call me Alex.â She said, extending her hand. You repeated the greeting and introduced yourself.
âIâm y/n.â
Both of them noticed the rings adorning your left hand but didnât comment. Youâd noticed that Max wasnât wearing his, though you hadnât commented on.
The four of you moved into the living room, and you instinctively sat beside Max. His presence anchored you, offering a sense of security in the unfamiliar social situation. For a while, the conversation flowed lightly until Max and Charles excused themselves, heading to the balcony. You hesitated, but Alex smiled, clearly sensing your nervousness.
 âHow long have you been in Monaco?â She said kindly.
You thought for a moment. âAbout a month.â
âThatâs still pretty new! Iâm guessing you donât have many friends here yet?â
You shook your head.
âWellâŚâ Alex said with a mischievous grin, âIâve been looking for a new shopping partner. Maybe youâd like to join me sometime?â
Your cheeks warmed. âIâm not very good at shopping.â You admitted, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve.
âThatâs okay! We can figure it out together.â She reassured you before pulling out her phone. âHere, let me get your number.â
She tapped it into her contacts, and you found yourself relaxing slightly. Alex didnât press you with questions about yourself, instead sharing light anecdotes about her life. At one point, she showed you a picture on her phoneâa beautiful painting that immediately drew your attention.
âThatâs gorgeous.â You said, leaning closer. âIt looks so calm and peaceful.â
âItâs by Claude Monet, part of his Water Lilies series,â Alex explained, watching your expression soften. âDo you like art?â
You hesitated, a small smile forming. âI do. I always wanted to study it.â
Alexâs eyes lit up. âReally? I went to art school! Iâd love to talk more about it with you.â
Excitedly, you leaned in as Alex recounted her studies and experiences. You felt a spark of joy in the conversation, a rare moment of connection that felt genuine. When Max and Charles returned, you and Alex were laughing at one of her stories.
âWhatâs so funny?â Charles asked, sitting beside Alex and kissing her cheek.
âOh, I was just telling y/n about my old art professor.â Alex replied. She turned to Max, her smile widening. âDid you know she loves art?â
Maxâs gaze shifted to you, his expression softening. âYou do?â
You nodded shyly.
âShe wanted to study it.â Alex added, and you saw the flicker of recognition in Maxâs eyes as he took that in.
âDo you guys want to go out to eat?â Charles asked, your eyes snapped to Maxâs you donât have any shoes. But before you could panic, Alex chimed in.
âWhy donât we order in instead? Itâs cozier that way.â
You shot her a grateful look, and she winked.
Lunch was lively, Charles regaling you all with stories from his and Maxâs childhood. You found yourself laughing more than you had in years, and Max couldnât take his eyes off you. The sound of your laughter, the way your face lit upâit was like watching a new side of you emerge, you leaned towards him when you laughed.
Charles isnât stupid he knew Max cared for you, even if he didnât know exactly whatâs going on. Heâs known Max since they were kids, thereâs something between the two of you.
âYou should come to a race sometime.â Alex said casually.
You glanced at Max, who raised an eyebrow as if to say it was entirely your decision.
âMaybe.â You said, a small smile tugging at your lips. âIf youâll be there.â
Alex clapped her hands in delight. âOf course, I will! Itâll be so much fun.â
After Charles and Alex left, you helped Max clean up, the two of you working quietly in sync.
âHow was it?â He asked, his tone careful.
âThey were nice,â you said with a soft smile. âI had fun.â Max relaxed slightly, but then your smile faltered. âIâve never had friends who werenât chosen by my dad.â
You didnât elaborate, but the weight of your words hung in the air. Max didnât press, giving you space to share only what you were ready to.
Once the kitchen was tidy, you leaned against the counter, watching Max move about. He glanced at you curiously.
âWhat?â
âThank you.â You said quietly.
âFor what?â
âFor everything.â You said, your voice trembling slightly. âFor telling Charles and Alex what I needed without saying anything personal.â You tell him and glance at the floor before you look up again, your eyes meeting his. âThank you for being the kindest person I ever met.â
Max froze. âI wasnât kind at first.â he murmured, guilt flickering in his eyes.
You shook your head. âEven then, you cared more than anyone else ever did.â Your voice broke. âI know you didnât want this, I know that my dad forced you into it. And you didnât have to be nice to me, but Iâve been alone for so many years.â A tear slipped down your cheek. Max was in front of you in an instant, his hands gently cupping your face. He wiped the tear away, his eyes locked on yours. âMy sisterâŚâ you whispered, Max frowns he had no idea you have a sister. âShe turned eighteen and left. I was nine. She never called, never sent anything. And my mum died giving birth to me, and after that... it was just my dad.â Your voice cracked as more tears fell. âNo one ever asked what I wanted or cared if I was okay. As long as I did well in school, no one cared.â
Maxâs jaw tightened, his eyes burning with an unspoken rage. But he buried it, focusing instead on you. Still holding your face, and your eyes not wavering away from each other, Max leans over and places his lips softly on your forehead.
âI promise youâll never feel like that again.â He whispered against your skin. âIâll do everything in my power to make you happy.â
âYou donât have toââ
âI want to.â
You let out a shaky breath and leaned into his chest, letting him hold you. For the first time, you felt like you could let go of the weight youâd been carrying for so long.
When you finally pulled back, Max smiled softly, and you returned it, the moment settling between you like a quiet promise.
It was a quiet Sunday morning with no race this week. You and Max had just finished breakfastâsomething simple, part of the diet routine his trainer had him on. You were following his plan, eating smaller portions, and Max had noticed you snacking more these days, which made him happy. After everything that had happened, he wasn't pushing you to eat more than you wanted.
Max sat back with his tea, scrolling through his phone when it rang. The number was familiarâit was his mum.
Bold is Dutch
"Hey, Mum."
"Hey, honey, I just got off the phone with your dad." Sophieâs voice sounded tense, and Max tensed instinctively, already sensing where this conversation was going.
"Yeah?" Max asked, trying to sound casual.
"He told me something weird⌠he said⌠he said you got married." There was a long pause, and Sophie didn't give him time to run around it. "Max, is this true?"
Max cursed under his breath, closing his eyes. The silence dragged on.
"Look, Mum, itâs hard to explain." Max began, but Sophie wasnât having it.
"Hard to explain? Max, did you get married? Yes, or no?" Her voice was sharp now, demanding an answer. Max rubbed his eyes, exhaling slowly.
"Yes." He admitted.
"And you didnât think to tell us? Who did you even marry? What the hell have you gotten yourself into? Is she pregnant or something?" Sophieâs voice cracked with worry. Max could hear the disbelief in her words. His mother wasnât the type to overreact, but this was too much.
"Mum, calm down." Max sat up straighter, his voice calming. "Look, Dad signed a contract years ago, and if it ever gets out, he could be sent to prison. The man who signed it made me marry his daughter to keep everything quiet."
"What the fuck is wrong with your father?" Sophie wasnât expecting Max to have an answer to that. "You canât get out of it?"
"No, I couldnât." Maxâs voice was steady but firm.
"Is she living with you?" Sophie asked, her worry turning into concern for Maxâs well-being.
"Yes." Max's voice softened slightly.
"Mum, be careful. I donât know her, but she could be the one who asked her dad to do this. You can never be too sure with people like that."
Max paused, a flicker of protectiveness for you rising in him. "Mum, sheâs not like that."
There was silence on the other end of the line as Sophie processed his words. Max felt the weight of her judgment shift. He had to convince her of this, for you.
"Sheâs nice. Quiet. Really beautiful. And sheâs nothing like her dad. If anything, Iâm just happy sheâs away from him."
Sophie was silent, the tension hanging thick. She wasnât used to hearing her son speak so openly about someone like this. "
"You like her." She said, the words not quite a question but more of a realization.
Max let out a breath he hadnât realized heâd been holding. "I do." And for the first time heâs said it out loud.
âI want to meet her.â Sophie said, her voice firm but not unkind. Sheâll cast all judgment to the side until she met you.
âIâll talk to her.â Max promised, knowing it was important for you to decide if and when you felt comfortable with meeting his family.
After the call ended, Max sat there for a moment, gathering his thoughts before heading back to you.
ây/n.â Max called as he entered the room. You looked up from the iPad, where youâd been experimenting with ProCreate.
"In two weeks, itâs the Dutch Grand Prix. Do you want to come with me?"
You raised an eyebrow, a little hesitant. "Will Alex be there?"
Max smiled, the corner of his lips twitching.
"I donât know, but my mum and sister will be, and my mum wants to meet you." You bit your bottom lip, a nervous habit youâd picked up, and started scratching at your nail bed. "You donât have to come if itâs too much."
"No, itâs okay⌠do they know?" You asked, hesitant but curious.
Max nodded. "Yeah. I donât know about Victoria, but Mum wants to meet you first before anything." He gave a small, reassuring smile. âI know itâs a lot. You donât have to do this if youâre not ready."
You nodded slowly, but the nerves were already starting to bubble in your stomach, your mind started overthinking every possible scenario that could happen. "I donât know⌠what if they donât like me?"
Maxâs voice softened, a hint of concern crossing his face. "Donât do that." He said gently, cupping your face. "Donât get lost in your thoughts."
You sighed, your shoulders sinking a little. "I justâŚ"
"Show me what youâve done." Max said, cutting through your train of thought. He gently nudged you aside and sat next to you on the couch.
You hesitated before showing him your drawing on the iPad. Max leaned in, studying the strokes and lines youâd created. He didnât know much about art, but the smile on his face said everything. To him, it looked good.
He turned to you, eyes soft. "Itâs great. Youâre really talented."
You felt a warmth bloom in your chest at his compliment.
Heâs been talking with Alex for help, heâs getting you a good starter kit, different mediums and everything until you find what you like. Max has another an empty bedroom, where his sim was supposed to go, before he sat it up in the living room, he can convert it to your studio. He was making sure you had everything you needed to thrive.
"Will you come to the next race with me?" Max asked softly. "Just so you can see everything before you meet my mum and sister. Itâll be nice to have you there."
You agreed to go with him to the next two weeks, first stop was Hungary and then it was the Netherlands.
Alex would be there as well, and that eased your nerves a little, knowing youâd have someone else you were comfortable with.
Max also made sure you had some new clothes, a few more pairs of shoesâsomething that made him happy. Youâd ordered them online, and he was genuinely excited to see you enjoy these little things.
While packing, Maxâs eyes fell on the wedding band heâd taken off and placed on his bedside table. It had been there ever since, untouched. Without thinking much about it, he slipped it into his luggage.
The atmosphere of the paddock was nothing like youâd expectedâit was electric, buzzing with activity. Alex made sure to meet up with you once the drivers had to go in for media duties. She showed you around, introducing you to the other WAGs, who were all genuine and easy to talk to.
Lilly showed you TikTok, and you downloaded the app instantly, amused by how much you were missing out. The girls didnât pry into your relationship with Max. They accepted you for who you wereâjust a friend of Max, now Alexâs as well.
The weekend was enjoyable, thanks to them. You watched the race from the Red Bull garage, chatting with Max between sessions. Some photos were snapped, but no one really knew who you were. Your anonymity remained intact, despite the rumours circulating about you and Max.
Max kept an eye on the gossip online. He didnât care about the usual scrutiny, but his family was off-limits. No one had asked for his life to be under a microscope. And now, you were part of his family. You shared his name.
That thought made something in Max shift. He felt a deep sense of possessiveness, pride even, that you had his last name. The primal part of him loved that you were his, and that realization struck him late that night. He wasnât just liking you anymoreâhe was falling for you. Fast.
But Max wasnât used to slow. He liked things fast, hard, and with determination. He knew what he wanted, and now that he had you, he would do whatever it took to keep you.
Usually, Max flies with his friends from race to race on his private jet, but since heâs bringing you this time, itâs just the two of you.
âHow was the race weekend?â Max asked, eager to hear your thoughts.
âIt was a lot.â You admitted, and his heart sank a little. He wanted you to enjoy it and wondered if he shouldâve asked if you wanted to go in the first place. âBut I enjoyed it. It was different from seeing it on TV. Also, the girls were all very nice. Iâve never been to something like this before. I wanted to see you win, though.â
âMaybe next time.â Max chuckled softly before adding, âIâm glad you enjoyed it.â
âThank you.â
âYou donât have to thank me.â
You and Max arrived in the Netherlands on Monday. The first two days, youâll stay at his mumâs house, and then heâll move to a hotel closer to the track. Your nail beds were raw from all the scratching you were doing, a nervous habit you couldnât seem to shake.
In the car, Max took your hand in his, gently running his fingers over the red and irritated areas. You glanced at him, expecting a question or a comment, but he remained focused on your hand, his touch warm and soothing. Your heart raced, a blush creeping up your cheeks as his attention left you feeling giddy. No guy had ever held your hand before.
Your mind wandered. Every small thing Max did made you question whether it was all platonic or if he had feelings for you. You couldnât deny that you had feelings for him. Every time he was near, your heart skipped a beat, and you felt weightless.
When you arrived at his mumâs house, his mum and sister were already at the door, waiting. As you both walked up, pulling your luggage behind you, Max greeted Sophie with a warm hug. Victoria waited her turn before stepping in for her own hug.
After they let Max go, Sophie turned to you with a kind smile. âHi, Iâm Sophie,â she said.
You smiled timidly and offered your hand. âHi, Iâm Y/N.â
She shook your hand warmly before Victoria followed suit.
âLetâs go inside,â Sophie said, leading the way.
Max lingered for a moment, his eyes meeting yours as if silently asking if you were okay. You gave him a small smile, and the two of you followed them inside.
Once inside, you placed your bags next to Maxâs and joined them in the living room. Max gestured for you to sit next to him on the couch, while Sophie and Victoria settled across from you. It felt like an interview, the kind where every word mattered.
Sophie broke the silence first. âTell us a little about yourself, y/n. Max hasnât said much.â
Your fingers unconsciously returned to scratching. âI-uh, what do you want to know?â
Sophie gave you a reassuring smile. âWhere did you grow up?â
âOh, we moved a lot. I was last in Switzerland, but before that, we lived in the UK, Spain, and Germany for a while.â
âIt mustâve been hard moving countries and losing your friends.â Victoria said sympathetically.
You shrugged. âItâs alright. I learnt many languages.â You dismiss their concerns, youâve never had much of friends in the first place, so moving wasnât hard on you in that aspect.
âOh? How many do you know?â Sophie asked, intrigued.
âGerman, Spanish, French, a bit of Italian, and some Dutch.â
âYou know Dutch?â Max asked, clearly surprised.
You smiled genuinely for the first time since sitting down. âYeah, not fluently, but enough. Itâs a little similar to German and French.â
âThatâs impressive.â Sophie said.
âThank you.â You replied, brushing off the compliment.
âDid you watch Formula 1 before meeting Max?â Sophie asked.
âNo. I had no idea about it until⌠Max.â You hesitated, unsure how much to share.
âWhat are your socials? I want to follow you.â Victoria said, pulling out her phone.
âI donât have any.â Your fingers returned to scratching. They both looked at Max, who nodded in confirmation. You added quietly. âDidnât have a phone until Max got me one.â
âReally?â Victoriaâs shock was evident.
âYour mother was okay with this?â Sophie asked, her voice softer now. She would never leave her daughter without a phone in case something happened to her, and she needed help. Even if just an old phone or limit access to internet, but not having a phone is bazaar. Your nail digs into your skin.
Max glanced at you, his concern growing as he noticed your nails digging into your skin. Without a word, he took your hand in his again.
âI think maybe we should rest first.â Max says wanting to get you out of this situation.
âItâs alright.â You squeeze his hand, Max is closer to you now, your hand in his on his thigh. You give him the smallest of smiles, before turning to his family. âMy mum died giving birth to me.â
âAnd your siblings?â Sophie asked hesitantly.
âRan away when she turned 18.â You said matter-of-factly. âI know youâre just looking out for Max, but I would never hurt him. I only want the best for him.â
Sophie softened. âThank you.â She said with a small smile.
Later that night, you were in one of the spare rooms, dressed in your pyjamas, staring out of the window when Max knocked on the door.
âCome in.â You called.
Max stepped inside, closing the door behind him. âHow are you doing?â
âIâm alright.â You replied simply.
âThey werenât too much, were they?â He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
âNo, they love you.â
âThey do.â Max paused, guilt creeping in. Even with his rough childhood, heâd had his mum and sister. Youâd had no one.
âDonât do that,â you said, raising a hand to smooth the furrow between his brows.
âDo what?â He took your hand from his face into his. He studies your hand, making sure thereâs no more cuts on them.
âFeel guilty. Hate that you had a better life than me.â You said softly. âWeâve both had rough childhoods, but weâre here now.â
âWeâre here now.â Max repeated, his voice heavy with emotion. For a moment, silence filled the room until you broke it.
âYou know Iâve suffered all types of abuse from my dad.â Maxâs grip on your hand tightened, his jaw clenching. âWhen I wouldnât do what he wanted or got less than perfect on tests, heâd pull me by my hair. He loved seeing me stumble, dragging me around like I was nothing. Sometimes he hit me, but never hard enough to leave permanent marks. When my sister escaped, he made sure I couldnât. He couldnât break her, so he broke me.â
âHe didnât break you.â Max said firmly. You looked at him, your eyes hollow. âHe didnât. Youâre here. Youâre strong. Youâre not following his rules anymore. You have a phone, you wear what you want, and youâre living your life. If he broke you, you wouldnât have any of that.â
âAll of that is because of you.â You countered. âYou made me do all that.â
âNo, you let me help you, you let me do all those things for you.â Max wanted you to understand how strong you are, how brave you are. âSomeone else wouldâve still ben in that shell, theyâd still be afraid. Are you scared?â
âNot when Iâm with you.â You admitted.
âAnd Iâm not going anywhere.â Max whispers and you lean over and hug him. Something that you have come to love. You may have not experienced a lot of hugs in your life, but Maxâs hugs are your favourite. There can never be a hug like his, a hug that makes you warm, feel protected, safe a hug that feels like home. Max waits until you pull away, his fingertips come up to your face and push the stray hairs out of your face. Your eyes locked in an intense gaze. After what feels like forever Max lets out a breath, he leans over and presses his lips to your forehead, before he bids you good night.
That night you dream of him; you dream of what it would be like being in a real relationship with Max. And you wake up wishing it was the truth; you wake up wishing that you were really with him.
Max wanted nothing but to find your dad and beat him up, who treats their daughters like this. How can he be human? He should be locked up. It took everything in him not to track him down, when you told him, and just end him. Just so he wouldnât breathe the same air you breath, so he wouldnât walk the same earth youâre walking. Max had to remind himself that youâre with him now, that your father wonât get to you. He gave you to Max and now you belong to him. And so, he planned.
The next few days felt surreal, almost as if you had stepped into a different life. Whether at her home or in the paddock, you spent most of your time with Sophie and Victoria, getting to know them in a more natural way. Victoria introduced you to her children and her partner, who seemed to warm up to you quickly. Their acceptance gave you a quiet sense of reliefâyou were finally starting to feel like part of something good.
On Media Day, you managed to catch up with Alex and the girls, who urged you to sign up for Instagram, even if you didnât plan on posting anything. Their light-hearted teasing helped you relax, even if you werenât ready to make that leap just yet.
Every night, Max ensured that you all ate together as a family. He was quietly thrilled by how easily you fit in, your laughter blending seamlessly with theirs. To him, it was a sign of hope, something he hadnât realised he was holding on to so tightly.
But you were completely oblivious to the plan Max had set in motion after your heart-to-heart. Behind the scenes, he was orchestrating an end to your fatherâs influence. He wanted it done discreetly, leaving no room for you to suspect or feel burdened by it.
The energy in the paddock was electric as Quali Day unfolded, Max securing pole position in a thrilling comeback. You had been watching from the garage with Sophie, who nudged you playfully when you cheered so loudly it drew stares.
âYou look happier than he does!â Sophie teased, a warm smile on her face.
âWell, he earned it!â You replied, grinning.
Sophie took your hand, leading you to where Max would be arriving. The timing was perfectâhe walked in just as you reached the area.
âMax!â You called, your excitement spilling over as you ran up to him. Without thinking, you threw your arms around him. It wasnât like the casual hugs you had gotten used to givingâit was unreserved, spontaneous. For a moment, Max froze in surprise, but then his arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, holding you close.
âCongratulations.â You murmured against him, your voice warm with pride.
âItâs not a win yet.â Max replied, his voice muffled as he buried his face in your hair.
âYou were still amazing.â You insisted, pulling back just enough to look up at him. âI was starting to think I brought you bad luck.â
âYou can never bring me bad luck.â He whispered, his tone serious. His arms around you a beat after you let go as his team called for him. âI have to go, but Iâll see you after.â
âOkay.â You whispered, stepping back reluctantly.
Sophie smiled knowingly, taking your hand as the two of you headed back to the garage. Neither of you realised that your tender moment had been caught on a live video, now circulating online. But none of you saw it that day, so busy with your lives to log online.
Maxâs teams saw the video, they had previously asked Max about your relation to him, but he politely said itâs none of their business. Wanting the reigning world champion to focus on the win, they didnât tell him about the video.
Max clinched victory in a hard-fought race, and the celebrations were wild. You stood with Sophie and Victoria in Parc Ferme. Max held your hand for a brief moment. He hasnât talked to you yet about the media and how to deal with them, so heâd like to keep it all as private as he could. But he also wanted you to know how he apricated your presence.
The team went hard in celebrating, there was the photo taking after the media duties, champaign splashing, cheering and jumping around. You watched it all from the side with Sophie. The woman was starting to have a soft spot for you, the more time she spent with you. You left with the women to change at the hotel, for a dinner with the family, apparently even Jos was coming. You had all changed and went to the restaurant at the hotel, and Max joined you all soon after. His mum and sister purposely left the seat next to you empty, Max likes sitting next to you something that theyâve noticed.
As you scanned the menu, Max leaned closer, his arm draped casually over the back of your chair.
âDo you know what youâll order?â He asked.
âIâm torn between these two.â You replied, pointing at the options. Max leaned in further to look; his face so close that you caught a whiff of his cologne.
âWeâll get both and share.â He decided.
âAre you sure?â
He nodded firmly, his easy confidence making you smile.
Across the table, Victoria nudged Sophie, tilting her head toward the two of you. âLook at them.â She whispered. Sophie smiled back, clearly entertained by the unspoken affection radiating between you and Max.
Sharing the food was a good option, you liked both dishes, Max ate more than you did which is expected. Before you get dessert, you excused yourself to the bathroom after the main course, you stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.
The moment you rounded the corner, a hand grabbed your arm roughly. Before you could react, another hand twisted into your hair, yanking you back with enough force to make you stumble and you instantly knew who it was. A squeak left your mouth as you were dragged.
âI think you and y/n should date.â Sophie said to her son, the moment you were out of earshot.
âWhat? Weâre married.â
âYes, but not of your choice.â She says. âYou both like each other, already married, why not try to date and see where it takes you, itâs backwards but why not?â
âI donât know if she likes me.â Max said, feeling insecure all of the sudden.
âBelieve me she likes you.â Victoria says and stands up. âI need the bathroom too.â
Leaving her mum and brother to talk, she sped walked to the bathroom, regretting the last glass of wine she drank. Victoria hears a squeak; she turns and just catches a glimpse of you being pulled away. Her eyes go wide, and she rushes back to the restaurant.
âFucking bitch, shut up!â Your father spat, his voice venomous. Panic flooded you as he dragged you toward the emergency stairwell. Jos was already there, hovering uneasily but saying nothing.
Your back hit the cold concrete wall, and the impact knocked the wind out of you. Tears blurred your vision as your father loomed over you, his face twisted with rage.
âWhat did I tell you before you left?â He hissed. âI said to play dumb and keep your mouth shut! So, what the hell did you say to that asshole?â
âIâI, I donât k-know.â You stutter vision blurry.
âThe fuck you donât! What did you say that made him talk to the investors, theyâre all pulling out!â Heâs screaming now, you flinch wishing the wall to just swallow you. you thought youâd be stronger the next time you see your dad, but here you are a whimpering mess. âTalk! What did you say?â
âIâI donât know!â You cry, your voice trembling.
âBullshit!â he roared, his hand striking your cheek with enough force to snap your head to the side. You whimpered, your legs buckling beneath you. The wall behind you the only reason you didnât fall.
But before he could strike again, the door burst open. Max charged in like a storm, tackling your father to the ground with a roar of fury.
âOh my god.â You hear Sophie gasp and rushes to your side, she pulls you from the stairwell.
âYou fucking asshole!â Max shouted, landing punch after punch. âWho the hell hits women? I told you to stay away from her!â
Jos sees the rage Max is in and jumps into action, fearing his son will be locked up, he tries to pull Max of your father. Jos is far from being in his prime and Max isnât young anymore. Max glares at his father.
âMax, stop!â Jos finally intervened, trying to pull his son off. But Max shoved him away, his anger boiling over.
âPiss off, this is your fault! You brought him here!â Max spat at his father; his voice thick with betrayal. He allowed him to come close to you, saw him hit you and did nothing.
Meanwhile, Sophie had her arms wrapping protectively around you. Victoria rushed to get security, her heels clicking frantically against the tiled floor.
You hear the shouting from outside, even through your pain you want to go to Max. You try to get back inside, but Sophie stops you.
âWait, Victoria is getting security.â
âBut Max-â
âWill be fine, he wouldnât want you in there.â Just as she says that she sees the security running in your direction she points to the door, and they rush in. Thereâs more shouting and screaming from inside.
âOh my god! Are you alright?â Victoria asks stopping in front of you. Tears havenât stop, your scalp was hurting, and your cheek was pulsing. Itâll bruise, leaving a mark. âThatâs a stupid question.â
âWhat are you doing? He started it!â You hear your dad scream, the door opens, and heâs pulled outside, his vision falls on you. âI was just talking with my daughter, and he butts in.â
âThatâs my wife! And you laid hands on her.â Max says coming out of the door and takes quick steps to stand in front of you, his mum and sister. âYou should call the police.â
The security nods and they take your dad away, as one of them call for the police. Jos walks out last, and the glares turn to him.
âI donât care anymore, Iâm getting him to jail, he can do whatever he wants.â Max tells his dad, Jos looks defeated, with what happened your dad will go to the media. Thereâs no fighting this, Max may have gotten married but, in the end, heâll still be exposed.
Max then turns to you, he takes you in, your hair is a mess your mascara was running, and tears havenât stopped leaving your eyes. Also, your cheek is red and buffy. It takes a lot for Max not to run after your dad and beat him some more.
âSchatje,â Max says softly, stepping closer until thereâs almost no space between you. His hand cups your uninjured cheek, tilting your face so he can examine it. Thereâs pain in his eyes as he studies you. âI shouldâve hit him more.â
You whimper, more tears slipping down your cheeks.
âNot now, Max.â Sophie reprimands gently.
âSorry.â He mutters, taking a deep breath to steady himself. His focus shifts entirely to you. âIâm sorry, y/n. Youâre okay. Youâre safe now. I promise this is the end of it.â His voice is low but filled with conviction. âIâll make sure he never comes near you again. This was a mistake, a blip. As long as Iâm alive, no one will lay a hand on you again. Do you hear me? No one. I swear it.â
For the first time, you believe those words with your whole heart. Max would do anything to protect you. Overcome with emotion, you throw your arms around him, seeking comfort in his presence despite the pain it causes.
âMax, I... Iââ The words stick in your throat as your sobs overtake you.
âShh, itâs okay,â Max soothes, his voice a calming balm. His arms tighten around you, and his hand strokes your back gently.
When Max glances up, his eyes meet Sophieâs. The pain in his expression makes her heart ache. Any doubts she had are gone. Sophie makes a silent promise to herself: she will make sure you feel the love your family never gave you.
âMax, the hotel staff said we can wait for the police in your room.â Victoria interjects softly, breaking the moment.
Max nods in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to you. Gently, he pulls away enough to see your face.
âCome on, schatje. Weâll have more privacy in my room.â His voice is almost a whisper. You nod, letting go of him and letting him guide you. His arm wraps protectively around your shoulders, holding you close to his side. Sophie and Victoria lead the way.
The elevator ride is silent, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. Even once youâre in the room, no one speaks. You sit on the sofa, still wrapped in Maxâs embrace. Sophie hands you a water bottle, and you whisper a soft thank you.
The knock on the door is almost startling. Victoria opens it to reveal two police officers. They introduce themselves as they step inside, taking seats across from you and Max. One officer pulls out a notepad, ready to begin.
âThe hotel staff are providing us with the CCTV footage.â The kinder-looking officer says. âBut we need your statement to build the case. Can you start by telling us what happened, Miss Wilkins?â
âItâs Verstappen,â Max corrects firmly. The officer looks momentarily confused. âWeâre married. Itâs Y/N Verstappen.â
The officers exchange a quick glance before the kinder one nods. âMrs. Verstappen, can you tell us what happened?â
The words make your heart flutter momentarily, but the weight of the situation quickly crushes any joy. Taking a shaky breath, you grip Maxâs hand tightly as he laces his fingers with yours, grounding you.
âI was on my way to the bathroom when someone grabbed my arm and pulled me back. Before I could react, a hand was in my hair. I knew it was my dad.â You explain, your voice trembling. You pause to wipe at your eyes, trying to steady yourself. âHe dragged me into the stairwell. He kept asking me about something Max did... something about investors.â
You glance at Max, confusion in your eyes. Maxâs jaw tightens as guilt flashes across his face. He now understands why your father attacked youâitâs his fault.
âWhen I told him I didnât know, he hit me.â You continue, your voice cracking. âHe was about to do it again when Max arrived and stopped him.â
The officer nods, his expression sympathetic. âHas this happened before? The abuse?â
âYes,â you admit quietly. âSince I was young.â
The pity in their eyes makes your stomach turn.
âWhen was the last time, before today?â The second officer asks.
You donât need to think about it. The memory is vivid.
âA week or so after we got married.â You say.
You went and opened the door, taking a step back when you saw who it was. Your heart dropped.
âWell, look who it is? The new bride. Come give a hug to your father.â Your dad opened his arms for a hug, Jos was standing behind him. Awkwardly. This feels like an ambush. You felt so naĂŻve thinking that you wouldnât have to deal with your father anymore. That youâre free from him. Your father hated that you didnât instantly follow his rules, so he took a step closer. You then moved closer as well and opened your arms for a hug, he pulled you closer roughly, on hand on the back of your head, gripping your hair at the roots, the other on your arm. It would leave a bruise if he held you slightly harder. You held in the whimper that threatened to escape. âWhy did it take so long for you to open the door?â He didnât wait or expect an answer. âJust because youâre married, doesnât mean you can forget what I taught you.â Moving your head back, you instinctively held into his arm for balance. âAnd what are you wearing? Hmm? I thought I sent you clothes. Iâve spent so much to make you the perfect wife, and this is how you are.â
"Did someone come?" Max called out from the living room, removing his headset. You shrank back, taking a few steps away from your father. Max rounded the corner, his sharp eyes darting between your pale face and the men at the door. âWhat are you two doing here?â
âWhat?â Maxâs voice is laced with disbelief. You glance at him, biting your bottom lip.
âHe didnât hit me.â You clarify. âHe just pulled my hair.â
âFuck, Y/N,â Max whispers, running a hand down his face in frustration. âYou shouldâve told me.â
âYou stopped him. You told him not to speak to me again.â You say softly, placing your hand on his thigh in an attempt to comfort him. Max looks down at your hand, his heart breaking further. Here you are, bruised and hurting, yet still trying to console him.
âDid Jos witness everything?â The officer asks, pulling your attention back.
âYes. Today and last time.â You reply. Maxâs anger bubbles to the surface.
âWe want restraining orders against both of them. And weâll sue.â His voice is sharp, final.
The officer nods. âThatâs the next step. With the footage, this will be a straightforward case.â
âOkay, just a step by step, but with the cameras here, it will be an easy case.â The officer said looking grim. âMr. Verstappen you attacked Mr. Wilkins, right?â
âYes, he was hitting my wife.â Max admitted not fearing anything that could come his way.
âIt was self-defence.â Sophie added, the officers spared her a glance.
The officers continue asking questions and taking statements from Sophie and Victoria before leaving. Once theyâre gone, Sophie and Victoria ensure you have everything you need before saying their goodbyes, leaving you and Max alone.
The silence feels heavy again. Max moves quickly, grabbing the ice bucket that had been delivered earlier. He wraps some ice in a towel and approaches you with careful intent.
âLet me do it.â You say softly, reaching for the towel, but Max doesnât let go. His frown deepens as he presses the cold compress gently to your cheek, his gaze focused solely on the bruised skin. He still wonât meet your eyes. âMax.â You call his name quietly, but he doesnât look up. You try again. âMax, please.â Finally, his eyes flicker to yours, and what you see in them breaks your heart. Pain. Guilt. Anguish. âWhatâs wrong?â You ask, your voice trembling slightly.
âHow can you ask me that?â He says, his voice cracking. âYour dad has hurt you twice since we got married, and I didnât even know. I failed to protect you. Both times. And today... today was my fault. I tried to punish him for what he did to you, but all I did was give him a reason to come after you again. I wasnât there for you before we got married, and I couldnât protect you now. Iââ His voice falters, and you see tears welling in his eyes. Max is strong, he doesnât care about a lot of things to cry, but you? He cares about you, knowing and seeing what happened to you is tearing him apart.
âMax.â You say, your hand moving to cover his where it rests on your cheek. You sit up straighter, shifting until youâre kneeling on the sofa to face him. Your hands cup his face, forcing him to look at you.
âIâd still be with himâor worseâif it werenât for you. You saved me, Max. Iâd go through it all again if it meant Iâd end up here, with you.â
Your words are soft but resolute. You brush away a stray tear that escapes down his cheek, and Max leans into your touch, his eyes searching yours.
âI love you.â You whisper, the words slipping out effortlessly. They feel right. True.
There it was as simple as that; the words just left you easily and smoothly.
Max freezes, his breath catching in his throat. He pulls back slightly, and your hands fall away from his face. The smile you wore drops, replaced by panic as your mind races. Did you misread everything? Was Max only being kind because he felt obligated?
âIâuhâIâm sorry if I overstepped.â You stammer, standing abruptly. Your nails dig into your palms as you try to steady your breathing. âThis isnât what you wanted. Itâs not what you chose. Of course, you donât feel the same. Iâm sorryââ
âWait.â Max grabs your hand before you can reach the door, turning you to face him again. His hands rest firmly on your shoulders, grounding you. âJust... wait.â You stop, your heart hammering in your chest. His touch is gentle as he cups your jaw, his thumbs brushing your skin. âI wasnât expecting it.â He admits softly. âI was surprised, confused, afraid... I still am. I donât want you to think you love me just because I got you away from your dad. I donât want that to cloud your feelings. If you love me, I need it to be for me. For who I am.â
His words make your chest ache, but then his next words make your heart soar.
âBecause I love you.â He says. âSo much.â
Tears well in your eyes again as your voice trembles. âYou do?â
Max nods, his forehead pressing gently against yours. âIâve thought about this a lot. About us. About how I never wanted this marriage to be just an arrangement. I love you, Y/N.â
You let out a teary laugh, and Maxâs lips curve into a smile at the sound.
âI love you for you.â you assure him. âI promise. This may not have been what we planned, but Iâm glad it happened. Iâm glad I have you.â
âMe too,â he murmurs, and then his lips meet yours. The kiss is soft and tender, a promise in itself. You kiss him back, savouring the moment. When you finally pull away, you rest your head against his shoulder, letting out a long sigh.
âCan I stay with you tonight?â You ask quietly. âI donât want to be alone.â
âOf course.â His answer comes without hesitation.
Max gives you one of his shirts, and you retreat to the bathroom to change. When you return, heâs gone, but moments later, he reappears, holding your makeup remover from your room next door. His gaze softens as he takes in the sight of you standing by the bed, wearing his shirt.
Youâre too exhausted to notice the way his breath hitches, the way he has to look away for a moment to compose himself.
That night, you both fall asleep quickly. Max spoons you from behind, mindful of your injuries, his presence a shield against the nightmares that might come. In his arms, you feel safe, loved.
When Max wakes before you the next morning, he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder before slipping out of bed. The warmth of his arms around you fades as he quietly gets out of bed, careful not to disturb you. He pauses at the edge of the mattress, his gaze lingering on your peaceful face. The bruise on your cheek looks slightly less angry now, but itâs still a stark reminder of everything you endured. Max clenches his fists as guilt and anger surge again, but he forces himself to take a deep breath. You need him to be strong, not consumed by his own emotions.
Max dresses quickly and heads into the small living area of the hotel suite, pulling out his phone. The police had assured him theyâd be in touch for follow-ups, but Max wasnât going to wait passively. He searches for a lawyer, determined to take swift action. Restraining orders would be just the start.
By the time he finishes his call, Sophie is knocking softly at the door. He lets her in, and she immediately places a comforting hand on his arm.
âHowâs she doing?â Sophie asks, her voice gentle.
âSheâs sleeping,â Max replies, his tone heavy. âI just... I donât know what else I couldâve done to stop this.â
Sophie shakes her head. âMax, none of this is your fault. Youâve done more for her than anyone else ever has. She knows that. She feels it.â
Max nods but doesnât respond. His motherâs words offer little solace when he feels like heâs failed you in so many ways. Sophie doesnât push him further, sensing his need for space, and instead busies herself in the kitchenette, preparing tea for when you wake up.
You stir a little later, the ache in your body making it hard to move. But the warmth lingering on your skin from Maxâs embrace makes you smile faintly, even through the pain. Slowly, you sit up. The events of the previous day flood back, and a lump forms in your throat.
Pulling on the robe draped over a nearby chair, you shuffle into the living area, rubbing your eyes. Max is pacing near the window, phone in hand, while Sophie sits at the small dining table, sipping tea. When she sees you, she smiles softly and stands.
âGood morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling?â She asks, her concern evident.
âIâm okay.â You reply quietly, though the rasp in your voice betrays your exhaustion. Sophie doesnât miss it and quickly ushers you to the table.
âSit. I made tea. Itâll help.â She places a cup in front of you before brushing her hand gently over your hair. âMax will be here in a minute.â
Max, who has noticed you now, ends his call abruptly and strides over. His eyes scan your face, and though he tries to hide it, you catch the flicker of pain in his expression.
âYou shouldâve stayed in bed.â He says, his tone soft but firm.
âIâve rested enough.â you reply, offering him a small, reassuring smile. âIâll be fine, Max.â
He kneels beside you, his hand covering yours on the table. âYou donât have to be fine; you know. Not yet.â
His words sink in, and you let out a shaky breath.
âI know.â you whisper. âBut I canât let him take everything from me.â
Max nods, understanding. âWeâre going to make sure he doesnât. The lawyer is already working on the restraining order. Iâve also asked them to look into filing charges. Iâm not letting this go by easily.â
The fire in his voice sends a wave of comfort through you. He wasnât just saying these things for your sake. He meant every word.
Sophie steps back, giving the two of you space, and Max pulls his chair closer to yours.
âToday.â He says gently, âWeâre going to take it one step at a time. First, weâll see what the police need. Then, weâll figure out whatâs next. And after that... weâll go home. Together.â
The word home makes your chest tighten. For so long, that word had no meaning. But now, with Max, it feels like youâre finally finding what it truly means.
Later in the day, after a follow-up with the police and some much-needed rest, you and Max prepare to leave the hotel.
Maxâs phone buzzing insistently had been a constant backdrop for the past half-hour, and finally, you couldnât take it anymore.
âMax, just answer your phone.â You said, pressing an ice pack to your cheek and watching him pace. âIt keeps ringing.â
With a sigh, Max glanced at the screen before reluctantly accepting the call.
âHello?... Yes⌠what? How did they know?... No, just the police officers andââ He paused, his expression darkening as he ran a hand through his hair. âNo, I think I said it in the hallway as well⌠fuck⌠okay, yeah⌠no⌠I said no, and I mean it. Itâs no oneâs business⌠No, because nothing in my contract says I have to⌠Mate, look, it happened. Iâm not happy about it, but it happened. End of story⌠Iâm going back to Monaco.â
He hung up, exhaling sharply as he tossed his phone onto the table. His jaw was tight, and it was clear the conversation had rattled him.
âWhat was that about?â You asked, wincing as you spoke. Your cheek throbbed, and smiling was definitely off the table until the swelling subsided.
Max hesitated, glancing at you before answering. âSomeone from the hotel leaked that weâre married.â
Your eyes widened, and you turned toward the mirror to check your face again, trying to process his words. âWhat? Howâhow did they even know?â
âDonât worry.â Max reassured you quickly, stepping closer. âWe donât have to say anything. Iâve always kept my private life private, and the police wonât release any details.â
âWhat about the officiant?â you asked, suddenly worried about the people who had been involved in your ceremony.
âIf he says anything, he can kiss his license goodbye,â Max replied firmly. âAnd if your father tries to use this, his reputationâwhatâs left of itâwill be done.â
You nodded, feeling a bit reassured by Maxâs determination. But he wasnât finished.
âNow, I need you to listen to me and think carefully before you decide.â His tone was serious, his blue eyes locked onto yours. âThere are two options: One, we can go out and face the crowd together. Or two, I can go out first, and you can follow later when things calm down.â
Your stomach churned at the thought of stepping out there alone. âDo they have my face?â
Maxâs silence was answer enough. Your heart sank, and you wrapped your arms around yourself for a moment before meeting his gaze again. âI donât want to be on my own.â
Maxâs shoulders relaxed, and he stepped closer to you.
âAlright, weâll leave together,â he said gently, taking your hands in his. âBut you need to know theyâll be taking pictures of you now. A lot. Once this is public, thereâs no going back.â
You swallowed hard but nodded. âItâs okay. I donât have social media anyway.â
Maxâs lips twitched into a small smile. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, careful not to hurt your swollen cheek.
Sophie insists on staying until the very last moment, ensuring you have everything you need before saying goodbye. Her hug is warm and lingering, and she whispers in your ear, âYouâre part of this family now. Donât ever forget that.â
Victoria joins in with her own hug, giving Max a teasing look. âTake care of her, Max. Youâre not off the hook just because she married you.â
Max rolls his eyes but smiles. âI know, I know.â
Max checked out of the hotel while you stood close to him, your fingers brushing against his arm for comfort, taking his left hand, you felt the smooth texture, looking down you see his wedding ring. Max smiles and presses your sunglasses up your nose. A Red Bull cap sat snugly on your head, and sunglasses shielded your swollen eyes. Even before stepping outside, the roar of the crowd was deafening, fans chanting and calling Maxâs name.
âStay close to me.â Max murmured, his arm slipping protectively around your shoulders.
The moment the doors opened, the world exploded with flashing cameras and shouting voices. Your head dipped instinctively; the weight of the crowdâs energy overwhelming. Maxâs arm tightened around you as the bodyguards formed a path to the car, their presence the only barrier between you and the chaos.
The path was narrow, people pressing in on all sides, and you felt your heart race as the space seemed to close in. Flashes of light blinded you even through your sunglasses, and questions were hurled at Max, some directed at you. But he didnât stop. His focus was solely on getting you to the car.
At last, you reached the vehicle, and a breath of relief escaped you as you slid into the seat. Max lingered outside for a moment, signing a few autographs for fans before quickly ducking into the car beside you.
His face was drawn, his usual calm replaced by a tension you rarely saw in him. You placed a hand on his thigh, squeezing gently.
âThat was something.â You said, your voice tinged with exhaustion.
âTell me about it.â Max muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. He glanced at you when he felt your touch and gave you a small, weary smile. Lifting your hand to his lips, he kissed the back of it before threading his fingers through yours.
The car hummed quietly as it carried you both toward the airport, leaving the chaos of the crowd behind. Maxâs hand remained in yours the entire ride, a silent reassurance that, no matter how overwhelming things became, you wouldnât have to face them alone.
Thankfully, everything went smoothly with the lawsuit against your father. While the statute of limitations on the abuse you experienced as a child had already passed, Jos provided compelling testimony as a witness, and the case concluded without much trouble. There were some whispers in the media, but Max spared no expense to ensure the story stayed out of the spotlight, keeping your life as private as possible.
Since that fateful day at the hotel, your life had changed dramatically. Your belongings had been moved into Max's room, and now you slept together every night. Max rarely went anywhere without you if he could help it, and the connection between you only deepened with time.
Youâd also applied to art school and were now waiting for the new semester to begin. Alex, ever your cheerleader, was ecstatic about the news, eagerly discussing your potential and the projects you could take on. Meanwhile, Charles had taken to bragging that heâd known about your marriage before anyone else on the grid, which only fuelled the Lestappen theories online, especially with your friendship with Alex adding to the chatter.
The windows in your shared Monaco apartment were wide open, letting in a soft sea breeze as you sat in front of a canvas, your playlist softly filling the room. The view was breathtaking, but you were lost in your work, a blend of vibrant colours slowly taking shape on the canvas. You didnât hear Max enter, fresh from the gym. Heâd tried to get you to join him countless times, but you always resisted, finding your balance in Pilates a few times a week.
Max paused when he saw you, your brush gliding across the canvas as you mouthed the lyrics to the song playing in your ears. The sight made his heart swellâthis was his proudest achievement, seeing you at peace, content, and thriving. Quietly, he walked over and wrapped his arms around your waist, startling you enough that you let out a squeak, dropping your brush.
âMax! The floor!â You whined, glaring down at the smear of paint on the floorboards.
âIt doesnât matter.â He muttered, his lips brushing your neck before his gaze turned to the canvas. âAgain?â
âNot my fault youâre my muse.â You replied cheekily, turning your head to press a quick kiss to his cheek. The painting was of his eye this timeâjust a close-up as part of a larger composition.
âWould you like me to paint another manâs eyes?â You teased, raising a brow as you wiped your brush on a cloth.
Max smirked, pulling you closer. âNo. Just mine, Mrs. Verstappen.â
âThatâs what I thought, Mr. Verstappen.â You shot back with a grin.
As you turned to grab another brush, Max pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to you. âI got you something.â
You blinked in surprise as he opened his hand, revealing a pair of earringsâyour Tiffany earrings, the ones youâd had to sell to survive. Your breath caught as you reached out to touch them, the memories of that difficult time flashing through your mind.
âMax⌠how did youâŚâ
âI tracked them down.â He said softly, his blue eyes full of warmth. âI know how much they meant to you, and now they can mean something happy again.â
Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, your heart swelling with emotion. âYou didnât have toââ
âI wanted to.â He interrupted, his tone firm yet gentle. âYou deserve to have everything you lost, and more.â
You smiled through your tears and threw your arms around his neck, holding him close. âThank you.â You whispered, your voice thick with emotion.
Max kissed the top of your head, his hands stroking your back.
âAnything for you.â He murmured. âAlways.â
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FILM 01. OOPS! WRONG ROOM!
â sum. because of yuujiâs stupid prank, you decided to give him the taste of his own medicine and prank him in the middle of the night. but, because, sometimes, in the middle of the night you lack common sense, you accidentally climb the wrong room and end up in his older brotherâs room.
warning. non-sorcerer au, fluff, harsh-words (curse, etc), crack, sukuna accidentally slap you :').
â , DECEMBER, WHEN WINTER FINALLY COMES
11 PM.
you stand in front of the two-story house, a determined look on your face and a backpack slung over your shoulder, weighing heavily with the tools of revenge you brought along. the night has fully settled, with the sky draped in inky darkness, only broken by the faint glow of the moon. a cool breeze brushes against your face, making you pull your jacket tighter around yourself as the branches of nearby trees sway and scrape against one another, filling the quiet night with an eerie creaking sound. in the distance, the faint chirping of crickets echoes through the silence, adding to the sense of stillness.
you glance at your reflection in the darkened window of a parked car, catching sight of your hair in the moonlightâa sickly shade of blue that catches your eye and makes you clench your fists. âyuuji itadori,â you mutter under your breath, teeth clenched. the anger flares up in your chest again, hot and insistent. it was all his fault. that idiot and his stupid pranks. youâd thought you could trust him, that he was just being nice when he suggested a âfunâ hair treatment. but now, thanks to him, your hair looked like a mess, a ridiculous blue that was nothing like the color youâd agreed on.
tonight was the night for revenge.
you sling the backpack higher on your shoulder, its contents shifting slightly, and mutter to yourself, âsay goodbye to your precious hair, you fucking bastard.â you know yuujiâs going to regret the day he ever thought of pulling a prank on you. your feet carry you to the side of the house, stepping lightly over the grass as you survey the windows. in all your visits here, you realize you never actually paid attention to where yuujiâs room is. that oversight might slow you down, but it wonât stop you. the anger bubbling in your chest is more than enough to keep you focused.
determined, you scan the side of the house, eyeing each window in turn. your gaze falls on a room with a tiny balcony, faint light seeping through the curtains. you pause, hearing muffled laughter. a grin spreads across your faceâof course, that has to be his room. the laughter sounds like yuujiâs, and who else would be awake and laughing at this hour? you take a deep breath, suppressing a triumphant chuckle of your own.
carefully, you approach the thick, sturdy tree beside the house. its branches stretch outward like bony fingers, offering you a path up toward that balcony. your fingers brush against the rough bark as you grab hold of the lowest branch and hoist yourself up. the tree is old, its bark rough and uneven, making it easy to grip, but the branches are high enough that you have to stretch and carefully pull yourself from one to the next. the creak of wood under your weight fills the air, and for a brief moment, you freeze, afraid that youâve made too much noise. but the house remains silent aside from the faint sound of yuujiâs laughter filtering through his window.
one branch at a time, you climb higher, your heart pounding harder with each step. the wind catches your hair, making the blue strands sway in the breeze, reminding you exactly why youâre here. the closer you get to that balcony, the more your grin widens. this is it. youâre almost there.
as you near the last branch, excitement pulses through you, but itâs quickly overshadowed by a rush of fear as your foot slips on a patch of moss. in a split second, youâre thrown off balance, and your heart skips a beat. you gasp, feeling yourself sway, and instinctively, you blurt out, âoh shit!â
your hands fly to the trunk, gripping it tightly as you hug the rough bark, holding on for dear life. your heart hammers in your chest, pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears. you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, the reality of what almost just happened sinking in. the cold bark scratches against your cheek, but you donât dare move, frozen in place, caught between relief and lingering fear.
after a few seconds, you force yourself to loosen your grip slightly, taking a few deep breaths to calm your racing heart. glancing up, you see the branch you were aiming for, just a bit higher. itâs within reach, but now, your legs feel a little shaky. the thought of slipping again makes you hesitate, but your anger and determination to get back at yuuji push you forward.
with renewed caution, you carefully adjust your footing, triple-checking each step, and finally manage to reach that last branch. once youâre stable, you let out a sigh of relief, silently thanking whatever luck you have left. hugging the trunk one last time for reassurance, you shift your focus back to your missionâyuujiâs room is just within reach.
at least thatâs what you thought.
finally, you reach a branch that stretches close to the balcony. itâs a little risky, a bit of a jump, but youâve come this far. you steady yourself, crouching on the branch as you judge the distance. taking a deep breath, you lean forward and make the jump, landing on the narrow balcony with a soft thud. you quickly grab hold of the railing to steady yourself, glancing at the window to make sure your entrance hasnât been noticed.
through the gap in the curtains, you can just make out yuuji lying on his bed with his back on you, his phone in hand, laughing at something on the screen. completely oblivious. perfect.
you reach into your backpack, pulling out the can of temporary neon green hair dye. itâs obnoxious, bright enough to be seen from space, and will make yuujiâs hair look ridiculous. it wonât be permanent, but heâs going to have a hell of a time trying to wash it out. satisfied with your plan, you pop open the lid, taking a quick glance through the window to make sure heâs still distracted.
you carefully, silently ease the window open just enough to slip inside. his laughter continues, completely oblivious to the danger creeping up beside him. your footsteps are soft as you step onto the carpeted floor, your eyes locked on yuuji as he scrolls through his phone, still chuckling to himself. you canât help but roll your eyesâof course heâd be laughing when heâs about to get pranked himself. irony at its finest.
but. . .
your heart stops as the person on the bed snaps around, and before you can even react, a startled scream tears from his lips. his hand flies out in reflex, catching you square across the cheek and sending you sprawling back onto the carpet with a sharp, stunned yelp. pain radiates from your cheek, your vision blurring slightly as you clutch the spot where he struck you.
âoh, fuck!â you groan, the sting spreading across your face. you struggle to sit up, blinking away the dizziness. the reality of the situation hits you hard as you finally look up and realize⌠this isnât yuuji.
no, itâs his older brother, sukuna.
he sits on the bed before standing up in quick motion, his eyes narrowing as they bore into you, a mixture of irritation and dark amusement flickering in his gaze. his face is almost identical to yuujiâs, but the atmosphere is entirely differentâcold, intimidating, and absolutely confused.
sukunaâs eyes rake over you, taking in your presence in his room. it quickly changes from surprise to annoyance. âwhat the hell are you doing here?â he snaps, tossing his phone aside. he crosses his arms over his chest, the muscles in his forearms flexing. âand how did you even get in here?â
you can feel the tension in the room growing palpable. heâs clearly not happy about your unexpected entrance, and your cheek is still throbbing from where he hit you. you swallow hard, struggling to find your voice amidst the adrenaline still pumping through your veins.
sukunaâs eyes are fixed on you, his brows furrowing as he takes in the sight of you, sprawled on the carpet. his irritation is apparent, but thereâs also an underlying hint of curiosity, like heâs trying to figure out what to make of this unexpected intrusion. âcare to explain what youâre doing in here, sneaking around like a damn rodent?â sukuna growls, his voice sharp and impatient. âyuuji didnât invite you here tonight, did he?â
sukuna stands there, hands planted firmly on his hips now, sharp eyes taking in every detail of your appearance. he recognizes you vaguely; heâs seen you hanging around his house on occasion, always with yuuji and his usual group of idiotic friends. though heâs never bothered to learn your name or really acknowledge your presence, your face has become familiar enough to him that he can place you instantly. he watches you carefully, as though trying to piece together why you would take such a risk to sneak into his room, of all places, with such an audacious plan.
your head shakes in small, hurried movements, your hand still pressed against your cheek, trying to muffle the sting from his slap. ân-no⌠yuuji didnât invite me,â you manage, your voice barely above a whisper, the words tumbling out awkwardly as you bite your lip to keep from wincing aloud. your fingers press gently against the sore spot, feeling the heat rising under your skin where his hand had connected.
âi thought you were him,â you admit, the explanation sounding weaker with each passing second. sukunaâs gaze doesnât waver, his eyes flicking from your cheek to the blood at the corner of your lip. he just stands there, one hand on his hip while the other falls flat on his side, eyes narrowed, sizing you up like heâs assessing a stray cat thatâs somehow wandered into his territory.
sukunaâs eyes narrow, watching every move you make, his irritation not softening in the slightest. he moves to sit on the edge of his bed, crossing his arms over his chest once again, looking down at you with a mixture of annoyance and mild interest. his gaze flickers from your swollen cheek to the faint trace of blood on the corner of your lip.
âyou thought i was yuuji?â he repeats, voice laced with disbelief, as if the very idea of being mistaken for his younger brother is an insult in itself. âhow do you even confuse the two of us?â his tone drips with condescension, his gaze searing into you as you struggle to sit up, holding your cheek to ease the throbbing pain.
the adrenaline is still making your head spin, and your cheek stings with every slight movement. âi donât know, iâŚi just came to prank him,â you mumble, voice barely above a whisper as you bite your lip, trying not to whimper at the soreness radiating from where he slapped you. âi thought you were him.â
sukuna scoffs, clearly unimpressed with your explanation. he stands up, towering over you, placing his hands on his hips once again as he gives you a once-over. âright. and now you look like a kicked puppy,â he mutters, almost like heâs annoyed that he feels the slightest bit of guilt over the reflexive slap. he rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh, as if your injury is an inconvenience to him.
âyouâre bleeding, you know,â he says with a grimace, nodding toward your lip. âmight want to do something about that.â
your hand flies up to your mouth, fingers brushing over the blood at the edge of your lip. you wince as the pain flares up, and sukuna watches with an unreadable expression as you dab at the spot, failing to hide the pained hiss that escapes your lips.
âfor someone sneaky enough to climb a damn tree and break in, youâre pretty fragile,â he comments dryly, his eyes still fixed on you as if trying to make sense of the situation before fixed to the spray hair dye beside you on the floor for a second. âwhat the hell were you planning to do, anyway? spray yuujiâs hair while heâs sleeping and hope heâd just laugh it off?â
you nod, feeling a little foolish now under his intense gaze, the can of hair dye still lying on the carpet where you dropped it. âit was just supposed to be harmless fun,â you mumble, glancing down, feeling a bit exposed under his scrutiny.
sukunaâs lips twitch into a smirk at your explanation, his annoyance softening into amusement, though itâs laced with a hint of disbelief. âharmless fun?â he repeats, raising an eyebrow. âso, you thought it would be funny to sneak into our house and mess with my brother while heâs sleeping?â
his tone is sharp, the words falling from his lips with an edge that stings more than the slap, his eyes never leaving you as you sit there, holding your cheek. itâs obvious heâs not buying your excuse, but heâs too damn entertained to show it.
you let out a long sigh, resigning yourself to the ridiculousness of the situation. shifting to sit cross-legged on the carpet, you look up at him, feeling a spark of defiance flaring back up. âdid you see my hair?â you ask, gesturing at the strands of blue cascading down your shoulders. âitâs all yuujiâs fault.â
sukunaâs brow arches, his smirk widening as he watches you, clearly intrigued but still not entirely convinced. âis that so?â he drawls, folding his arms as he leans slightly against the bedpost, his gaze never leaving you. âand what exactly did he do that made you think you could just break in here?â
you roll your eyes, the memory of yuujiâs previous prank making you scowl slightly. âoh, he thought itâd be hilarious to dye my hair neon blue while pretending to help me dye my hair,â you explain, crossing your arms in annoyance. âi was just trying to get him back. didnât expect the wrong itadori to be here.â
sukuna lets out a scoff, a sound that might be a stifled laugh. âso you wanted revenge, huh?â he says, his smirk growing wider. âand you thought breaking into our house and sneaking into my room was the way to do it?â
he steps closer to you, his eyes scanning over your figure, that smirk still dancing on his lips. âyouâve got guts, iâll give you that,â he mutters, his voice a mix of annoyance and grudging respect. âbut damn, couldnât you have chosen a less idiotic plan?â
as sukuna takes a step closer, the sudden shift in his expression sends a jolt through you. instinctively, you scoot back, clutching at the fabric of your clothes as if thatâll somehow guard you from the piercing intensity in his gaze. the smirk on his lips is still there, but thereâs something in his eyesâsomething unreadableâthat makes your heart skip a beat.
âw-what are you doing?â you stammer, trying to sound firm, though your voice betrays you with a slight tremor. you donât break eye contact, refusing to let him see any weakness, but your pulse is racing.
sukuna chuckles, low and dark, as he watches you. ârelax,â he drawls, tilting his head with that infuriating smirk of his. âif i wanted to kick you out, i wouldâve done it already.â he pauses, gaze flicking over you once more, as if heâs sizing you up. âjust curious, thatâs all. you break into my house in the dead of night, sneaking around like a cat burglar, and then you get all jumpy when i walk up to you? if anything, i should be the one asking what youâre doing.â
you grit your teeth, trying to steady your breathing. âi⌠i told you, it was just a prank for yuuji. i didnât expect you to be here.â you try to keep your voice steady, hoping the indignation overshadows the nervousness bubbling under the surface. âand can you blame me for being cautious? you slapped me as soon as you saw me!â
his gaze softens, just for a moment, like heâs remembering the slapâand the faint tinge of guilt flashes across his expression before vanishing as quickly as it appeared. he gives a half-shrug, still smirking. âmaybe i overreacted,â he admits. âbut you barged into my room.â
sukuna lets out another scoff, this time a little softer, almost amused by your obvious discomfort. he takes another step closer, closing the distance between you even further, and again, you involuntarily shrink back. the smirk on his lips grows wider, as if heâs enjoying how unnerved you are, despite your best efforts to hide it.
ârelax,â he repeats, his voice a low, taunting rumble. âi wonât bite.â
his eyes never leave yours, studying your every reaction keenly, like heâs trying to catch every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. âyouâre trembling,â he comments, a hint of mockery in his voice. âwhy, are you afraid of me?â
a pause as he crotch down, leaving just a few inches between you. his hand reaches out, moving towards your face, and you reflexively flinch at the unexpected touch. sukuna pauses, his fingers pausing just a breath away from your skin, before brushing over your swollen cheek. âdoes it hurt?â he asks, his voice surprisingly gentle, almost concerned.
you roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as you muster up a dry, sarcastic tone. âwhat do you think?â you snap, meeting his gaze without flinching this time, though your cheek still throbs from the sting. his fingers linger on your cheek for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if contemplating something. the concern in his voice had surprised you, but now youâre more annoyed than anything, wondering if heâs just toying with you for his own amusement.
sukunaâs lips twitch into a faint smirk at your response. âfeisty, arenât you?â he murmurs, clearly amused by your defiance. âguess youâre not as fragile as you look.â you huff, trying to ignore the way his hand feels against your skin, warm and oddly gentle. âdid you expect me to just sit here and whimper?â you fire back, arching an eyebrow at him. âmaybe you should work on your welcoming skills.â
he chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that sends a shiver up your spine. âi donât usually have uninvited guests,â he replies, his smirk widening. âespecially not ones with the guts to talk back.â the tension between you both lingers, charged and heavy, as his hand falls away, leaving you to realize how close he is, still crouched in front of you.
sukuna reaches into the drawer by his bed, pulling out a small box and setting it on the carpet in front of you. you watch as he opens it, revealing a surprisingly well-stocked first-aid kitâcotton swabs, antiseptic wipes, bandages, and more.
âwhat⌠are you doing?â you ask, eyebrows raising in disbelief. the idea of sukuna, the one who slapped you moments ago, now tending to your wound feels too surreal. sukuna doesnât answer immediately, his eyes focused as he pulls out a cotton swab and some antiseptic from the small box. he glances up at you briefly, his gaze unreadable, before he dips the cotton in the antiseptic. âhold still,â he says, his voice quieter, almost like heâs trying not to scare you off.
you feel your brows knit together, watching him suspiciously. âwhat are you doing?â you ask for the second time, shifting slightly as he leans in closer, his intense gaze making it hard to look away.
âwhat does it look like?â he says, a slight edge of irritation coloring his tone, though he doesnât break eye contact. âiâm cleaning up the mess i made.â he reaches toward your cheek, you instinctively tense up, but his touch is unexpectedly gentle. the antiseptic stings slightly as he dabs it onto your skin, and you canât help but wince. he moves the cotton swab across your cheek, waiting a beat to make sure you wonât pull away.
âdonât be a baby,â he mutters, though thereâs a faint trace of amusement in his tone. you roll your eyes, trying to keep your composure. âmaybe if someone didnât slap meâŚâ you mumble, unable to resist throwing some sarcasm back his way.
sukuna lets out a snort, his lips twitching into a half-smile. âmaybe if someone didnât sneak into my room in the middle of the night,â he retorts, the edge to his voice lessening slightly as he continues tending to your wound. âcanât blame me for being startled, now, can you?â
his eyes are fixed on your face, his expression serious and focused as he works, and you struggle to keep yourself from reacting to his touch. despite his previous aggression, his movements are oddly careful, almost as if he was worried about causing you more pain. âiâm taking responsibility, arenât i?â he retorts, but his voice is noticeably softer than before.
he continues to clean up the wound on your cheek, his gaze never leaving your face. his touch, despite the initial start, is careful and precise. thereâs something almost tender about his actions, but his expression remains composed, revealing nothing more than mild annoyance. âyouâre surprisingly docile when youâre quiet,â he notes, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement.
sukunaâs eyes flicker up to meet your gaze, the hint of a knowing smile on his lips as he continues to gently apply the antiseptic, his touch both tender and precise.
his words take you by surprise, the uncharacteristic compliment causing your cheeks to flush slightly. you open your mouth to shoot back a retort, but for some reason, the words donât come as easily as they did before. âi⌠just donât want to give you another reason to slap me,â you manage to stammer out, trying to sound defiant but instead finding yourself a little flustered.
sukuna lets out a chuckle, his eyes narrowing amusedly as he sees your flustered reaction. âyouâre not as tough as you act,â he says, a hint of mockery in his tone. âiâve seen scared rabbits with more backbone than you.â
he stops applying the antiseptic and sets it aside, his hand moving to grab a small bandage from the first-aid kit. his gaze drops back to your cheek, his expression strangely serious as he carefully applies the bandage. âyou lucked out that i was in a good mood,â he adds, his voice quieter.
you roll your eyes, letting out an exaggerated scoff as sukunaâs words sink in. âoh, i feel so honored,â you reply sarcastically, the dry bite in your tone impossible to miss. you lift a hand to feel the freshly placed bandage on your cheek, not sure if youâre more irritated by the sting or by the smug expression heâs wearing.
with a glare, you turn to really look at him, noting for the first time just how much he resembles yuujiâthe same face shape, the same strong build. but the similarities end there. where yuujiâs face is open and kind, sukunaâs is sharp, his features only intensified by the black tattoos and those unsettling deep crimson eyes that seem to pierce right through you.
your gaze holds his, and you let out a low murmur, almost daring, âso... what would you do if you werenât in a good mood, then? eat me?â you quirk an eyebrow, attempting to match his intensity, though thereâs a part of you thatâs not entirely sure if youâre joking.
sukunaâs lips twitch at your sarcastic response, his smirk widening as he watches your reaction. his eyes follow your hand, watching you touch the bandage. he notices the hint of irritation in your expression, but he seems to revel in it, his gaze sharpening as you meet his eyes.
at your question, his smirk turns into a wolfish grin, his eyes gleaming with an almost feral glimmer.
âmaybe,â he replies, his voice dropping to a purr-like grunt, âif you keep testing my temper, who knows what i might do.â he tilts his head slightly, studying you with a mix of irritation and mild amusement.
sukunaâs smirk widens and his eyes roam over you with that bold, shameless look, you can feel your cheeks heating up against your will. his tone is low and teasing, each word laced with a dangerous, sultry undertone that makes your stomach flip.
you feel your cheeks flare up, and you canât hide the way your body reacts to sukunaâs bold comment and the way his gaze trails over you with that dangerous glint. that smirk of his only gets wider, more amused, as he takes in your flustered expression making your stomach crunches. itâs like heâs toying with you, fully enjoying the effect heâs having.
when he drops his voice and mutters that sultry, âiâll make sure you feel good, though,â it sends a shiver through you, one that you quickly shake off. ignoring the warmth rising to your face, you roll your eyes and lift your foot, giving him a swift kick to the shoulder. itâs not hard, but itâs enough to send him sprawling back onto the carpet. âugh, fuck off, you pervert,â you huff, crossing your arms as you glare down at him.
sukunaâs eyes widen slightly at your unexpected kick, stunned for a moment before he lets out a laugh, his body thudding against the carpet. he lands flat on his back, a mix of surprise and amusement on his face. he doesnât sit up right away, just lies there, the smirk on his lips growing wider as he looks up at you, obviously finding your reaction very entertaining.
âpervert, am i?â he quips, raising an eyebrow as he runs a hand through his hair. âbig talk from the one sneaking into my room at night, hm?â the smirk still on his lips as he gazes up at you, his eyes narrowing in a way thatâs both infuriating and captivating.
sukuna pushes himself up to leans on his two elbows, looking up at you with that infuriating smirk still firmly in place. âseems i touched a nerve,â he purrs, his voice smooth and low. âall i did was say iâd make you feel good. you canât honestly say that was perverted.â he pauses for a moment, his gaze flickering up and down your body in a way that feels almost like a caress. âi wonder,â he continues, his voice dropping to a murmur, âwhat other buttons i could push to get those cute little reactions out of you.â
your eyes widen as his words sink in, a mix of embarrassment and irritation flaring up inside you. with a gasp, you instinctively cross your arms over your body, as if shielding yourself from the weight of his gaze. âare you serious?â you sputter, heat creeping up your cheeks.
you quickly gather yourself, and before he has a chance to react, you reach out and give his shoulder a solid shove, enough to make him fall back onto the carpet with a thud. âyou are such a pervert,â you snap, your voice laced with annoyance as you glare down at him.
sukuna lets out another laugh, unbothered by your shove. he lands back on the carpet, his body sprawled out once more. he doesnât make any move to get up again, just lies there with that irritatingly smug expression on his face.
âyouâre so sensitive,â he teases, his tone mocking. âi havenât even done anything, and youâre already blushing. makes me think you secretly like it when i talk dirty.â he props himself up on his elbow, tilting his head with a smirk. âor maybe itâs just my charming presence.â
your eyes narrow at him, cheeks burning as you bite back the urge to say something that might fuel his ego even more. âshut up,â you snap, your voice laced with irritation as you glare down at him. sukunaâs smirk fades slightly as he looks at you, a curious glint replacing the usual cockiness in his eyes. he studies you for a moment, almost as if heâs seeing you in a new light. then, with a slight tilt of his head, he sits up, resting his elbows on his knees.
âwhatâs your name?â he asks, his voice a bit softer, though thereâs still that edge of intrigue. you blink, taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanor. itâs rare to see him ask something so straightforward without a teasing or mocking tone. for a second, it feels almost... genuine, like he actually wants to know.
âwhy?â you retort, trying to keep the edge in your voice despite the way his gaze makes your heart race.
he chuckles, leaning back slightly. âcanât a guy be curious?â he shrugs, his eyes not leaving yours. âi see you hanging around here often enough. figure i might as well know what to call the bold little intruder.â
thereâs a playful glint in his eyes, but underneath it, thereâs something that feels almost⌠sincere. you look at him with a mix of suspicion and surprise, narrowing your eyes as you try to gauge his intentions. why was he suddenly so curious? sukunaâs never exactly struck you as the type to care about formalities, much less asking someoneâs name without some ulterior motive. but, still, under that sharp gaze of his, you feel a small sense of obligation to answer.
ââŚitâs y/n,â you mumble, the words slipping out almost involuntarily as you avert your gaze, feeling oddly self-conscious under his stare.
at the sound of your name, sukunaâs smirk softens into a slight smile. ây/n,â he repeats, testing the sound of it on his tongue. the way he says it makes your stomach flutter, like the smooth sound of a purr. the syllables rolling off his tongue like a low, appreciative rumble. thereâs something about the way he says your name that sends a small shiver down your spine.
he eyes you for a moment longer, his gaze unreadable as he studies your face. his expression is surprisingly soft, the usual sharp edge of mockery missing from his eyes, replaced by a subtle warmth. ây/n,â he murmurs again, almost to himself. then, he grins. âa pretty name for a pretty girl.â
the compliment takes you off guard, your cheeks feeling warm under his gaze. you open your mouth to retort, to brush off his comment with some snarky response, but the words get stuck in your throat. sukuna clearly notices your reaction, his smirk widening into a cocky grin. âmmm, cat got your tongue?â he teases, his voice low and silken. âcanât handle a little praise?â
you feel your heart race as sukunaâs gaze lingers on you, his words lingering in the air like a heavy, unexpected compliment. it catches you off guard, and for a moment, you're left speechless, your mind struggling to come up with a response. you try to brush it off, but the heat creeping up your neck betrays the effect his words had on you.
âshut up,â you manage to stutter, but the words come out far softer than you intended. flustered, you quickly grab the nearest pillow and hurl it toward him with surprising force. it smacks him in the face, but youâre already on your feet, desperate to put some space between you and him.
âgod, youâre such a pain,â you mutter, though itâs barely audible as you try to walk away, still feeling the sting of his compliment on your skin. sukuna lets out a low, amused chuckle as the pillow hits him. he sits up properly, grabbing the pillow from his face and holding it in his lap. his eyes follow you as you hurry to put some distance between you, a small smirk playing on his lips.
as you mutter your frustration under your breath, sukuna watches you with a mix of curiosity and satisfaction. your flustered reaction to his compliment, the way you tried to flee, only piqued his interest further. âaww, where are you going?â he calls out teasingly. âcome back here, donât be shy.â
you pause mid-step, glancing back at him with a raised eyebrow, trying to ignore the way his amused tone makes your pulse quicken. crossing your arms, you tilt your head and give him a skeptical look, masking your own lingering embarrassment with a cool expression. âare you enjoying my company now?â you ask, your voice laced with dry sarcasm. âi thought you were annoyed that i showed up unannounced.â
sukuna grins at your reply, leaning back against the side of the bed, his demeanor relaxed and at ease. he holds the pillow up in one hand, absently tracing the edge with his fingers as his gaze locks on you.
âcanât it be both?â he responds, his tone nonchalant. âiâm annoyed at your lack of respect for personal space, but i gotta admit, youâre not entirely unpleasant to look at. or be around, maybe,â he pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering over your figure. âand it was kind of funny watching you squirm just now.â
you let a slow smile spread across your face, folding your arms as you tilt your head, watching him with a mischievous glint in your eye. âoh? should i stay a bit longer then?â you say, your tone light and teasing, each word a subtle challenge.
sukuna lets out an exaggerated groan, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance as he pushes himself up to stand. he shakes his head, his expression somewhere between amused and exasperated. âdonât push your luck,â he mutters, but thereâs a flicker of something almost playful in his voice that undercuts the warning.
you let out a soft chuckle, uncrossing your arms and let it fall down to your side âoh, come on,â you say, a teasing smile playing on your lips. âi thought i was at least ânot entirely unpleasantâ to be around. maybe youâre warming up to me.â
sukunaâs eyes narrow ever so slightly as you respond with a smirk of your own, a flicker of amused irritation crossing his face. he lets out a low scoff, not quite able to hide the hint of amusement in his voice.
âdonât get cocky,â he retorts, the warning tone in his voice contradicted by the playful glint in his eyes. âjust because i called you pretty doesnât mean i donât find you irritating.â he takes a step toward you, his gaze never leaving yours as he crosses his arms across his chest. âand i never said i was warming up to...â he trails off, his gaze flickering down to your lips for a moment before shifting back up, meeting your eyes with an intense look. âi was just stating a fact,â he continues, his voice lowering to an almost whisper. âyouâre not bad to look at, thatâs all.â
you roll your eyes at him, letting out a small scoff. âasshole,â you mutter, crossing your arms defiantly. but before you can get too comfortable, you feel sukunaâs hands on your back, firm and insistent, as he starts to nudge you towards the window you came through.
a pout forms on your lips as you drag your feet, resisting slightly. âcome on,â you whine, looking up at him with a mock hurt expression, knowing itâll only irritate him more. âi still want to stay. youâre such great company, after all,â you add with a smirk, your tone dripping with sarcasm.
he lets out an exasperated sigh, his grip on your back firm but not rough as he tries to shove you out. âdonât push it,â he growls, his patience clearly thinning. you can see the twitch in his jaw, and the way his eyes narrow, as if heâs seconds away from throwing you out the window himself.
but you just laugh, twisting around to look up at him with a mischievous grin. âwhy are you so eager to get rid of me, huh?â you tease, leaning back slightly to stall his efforts. âis it, maybe because you just canât handle my charm?â
sukunaâs eyes narrow at your relentless stubbornness, his grip on your back becoming even more firm as he tries to guide you toward the window. but you resist, planting your feet like a stubborn mule, and his irritation only grows. as you whine and pout at him, throwing sarcastic jabs at his expense, sukuna grumbles, his patience stretching thinner with every word you speak. he leans in, his face close to yours, his eyes locking onto your defiant gaze.
âyour charm?â he mutters, his voice low and laced with annoyance. âmore like your irritating persistence.â he gives you another forceful shove, pushing you closer to the window. âjust go,â he says, his voice carrying a hint of finality. âbefore i change my mind and shove you out myself.â
you cling to the railing, balancing precariously on one leg as you tilt your head up at him, a playful pout on your lips. even with half your body hanging out the window, youâre determined to get one last rise out of him. batting your eyelashes dramatically, you lean in, giving him an exaggerated, innocent look. âare you sure you wonât miss me?â you ask in a sing-song tone, your eyes glinting with mischief. you can see his jaw tense, his eyes narrowing in frustration as he glares at you.
sukunaâs eyes narrow, his jaw clenching at your relentless stubbornness and irritating persistence. he's tempted to throw you out the window right then and there, but your dramatic pose and exaggerated puppy dog eyes give him pause. âoh, please,â he mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes. âyouâre a headache, a nuisance. what would i miss about you?â
heâs clearly trying to hold back, to keep his emotions in check, but your audacity and lack of fear continue to rile him up. his eyes dart to the window, considering whether it would be better to simply push you out and be done with it, but thereâs something about the cheeky sparkle in your eyes that makes him hesitate.
you let out an exaggerated sigh, clutching the railing as you give him your best pleading look. âcome on, sukuna,â you whine, batting your eyelashes, âcanât i at least leave through the front door like a normal person?â
his expression darkens, an irritated smirk tugging at his lips as he leans in, his hand pressing firmly on your shoulder to keep you steady but clearly inching you closer to the edge. âyouâre leaving the same way you came in,â he mutters, his voice low and laced with annoyance. you canât help but grin, finding his exasperation oddly satisfying. âaww, donât be like that,â you tease, âi thought maybe youâd warmed up to me by now.â
his jaw tightens, and he gives you another nudge, his patience clearly wearing thin. âiâm this close to tossing you out myself,â he growls, but thereâs a flicker in his eyes, almost like heâs holding back a reluctant smile. with a little laugh, you swing one leg back over the windowsill, making a show of dragging out your departure. âfine, fine,â you say, raising your hands in mock surrender. âiâll go. but i know youâll be thinking of me after iâm gone.â
âout!â he barks, finally giving you a proper shove that sends you stumbling backward onto the balcony. as you regain your balance, you canât resist flashing him one last smirk, blowing him a kiss just to rile him up one more time. his eye twitches, and he slams the window shut with a huff, leaving you on the balconyâbut not before you catch the faintest hint of amusement in his expression.
sukuna stands by the closed window, his hands clenching into fists, his jaw taut with irritation. he glares through the glass, his eyes fixed on your smirking figure. the last bit of patience he had snaps as you blow him a kiss, his expression darkening further. he slams his hand against the window, the sound echoing through the room. âget lost, dammit,â he mutters to himself, his voice carrying a hint of frustration.
you roll your eyes at his dramatic display, taking your sweet time as you turn toward the branch you used to climb up. âseriously,â you mutter under your breath, half amused, half exasperated. âheâs such a bipolar jerk.â
with one last glance over your shoulder, you see him still standing there, fists clenched and glaring daggers through the glass, as if youâd somehow infiltrated his inner sanctum and messed with his world. it almost makes you laughâyou can practically feel the annoyance radiating off him even from here.
âgoodnight to you too, sukuna,â you mumble sarcastically, stepping onto the branch. as you begin to make your way down, you hear a faint, frustrated huff from inside. with a small, victorious smirk, you descend, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having left him riled up and flustered in his own room.
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candles & flames: downpour | jjk (m)
bonus chapter II: downpour
Summary: One knock at your door â thatâs all it takes for the clouds to burst. Because when it rains, it pours.
âł pairing: Jungkook x reader âł rating: 18+ âł genre: established relationship, royal!au; angst!!, fluff, smut âł warnings: ok ok â rain metaphors, mention of a traumatic past, daddy issues?, illegitimate child plot, backstories, mention of mentally abusive relationship, cheating (not between jk and oc), jk kinda a homewrecker, lies, tears, breakdowns, panic, fears, abandonment issues, craving/pining sigh, arguments and fighting, very sweet kids, dad!jk <3; explicit sexual content: oral (m. receiving, super brief f.), fingering, teasing, kissing/making out, manhandling, biting, big dick jk, soft dom jk, soft/hard sex, unprotected sex (shhh, they're married), he spills on her ass, cmnf for a bit, some aftercare; hm⌠the ending. âł wc: 31.8k âł a/n: alright. i courageously fought through the pain; not sure how this will go for you. we've waited quite a while for this, and all your support for this series really pushed me to no end <3 i hope this is all you guys expected it to be. take it easy with this one; love y'all sm and as always, let me know what you think đ¤ âł a/n2: this is a bonus chapter for my mini-series candles & flames. reading the rest of the story helps!! find the mpost below <3 and the collaborative playlist here!
SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs
Itâs fall.
Orange-red, beloved, drizzling fall.
And everything falls with its emergence. The leaves, the temperature, the warmth.
Youâre bummed, experiencing the prior season coming to an end again; the colours are fading and the flowers disappearing. The trees are empty; pretty but a little eerie, too.
Hana insisted on a stroll since the sun still graced you this noon; by now, itâs gone again, hidden behind grey, monochrome clouds. It looks much later than it already is; great call to march outside since you were still able to pick leftover flowers in the garden with her.
In the middle of the drawing room, Hana leafs through the basket. Jungkook is largely free today, but heâs still busying himself with papers of some guest heâs expecting tomorrow. The man wishes to open a bar in the village and asked for an appointment with the townâs royal to discuss the profitability of the idea.
Jungkook is lost in thoughts, thick eyebrows furrowed, but your eyes are scurrying across the room, settling on your daughter. Sheâs carefully inspecting each flower, remaining on her favourites a little longer; kneeling with pursed lips.
She resembles her father down to each smileless dimple. Sheâs staring down, the same shape and arch of her lips, eyes big. Whenever she finds a particularly good flower, she jumps to her little feet, walking up to Jungkook to present her choices for him to admire.
Once she reaches her last favourite, she holds it up to him with a tongue sticking out, proud and childishly joyous as she says, âThis is for you.â
âFor me?â he drops the papers to the table, mouth open; cautiously takes the daisy between his fingers. âGorgeous. I thought I was not allowed to have one?â
âYou can have this,â she mumbles, lisping here and now, âI have many.â
âRight. Letâs see.â He lays it onto the documents he inspected, stretching out his palms for her. Obliging, she lets him pick her up and place her on his lap, immediately pumped when he asks, âWhere did you find it? Want to tell me about it?â
And she does, with sheer enthusiasm so, explaining the spot and the colours vaguely. You know Jungkook still isnât any smarter, probably not quite remembering where the daisies grow. He prefers the field in the distance over the garden.
Concluding her story, she soon tells him, âCan you keep this? Until I am big like you?â
âOhâŚâ You tilt your head. Your cheeks are hot like the summer that passed, watching him blush, melting with her in his arms. âOf course! Do you want to tell me why I am getting this one?â
âItâs pretty.â
âAh. Like you then. Youâre pretty.â
And Hana, aware and oh-so-humble, responds with her eyes on her fingers, nodding, âYes.â
They do this sometimes. Exchange pretty things. She enjoys sharing her food or her collections with him, stuff she loves. Sheâs learned to show affection like this; makes him and you a part of herself this way. Itâs a slightly different dynamic with the others in the room, though.
Because the moment her tremendous eyes look up, they darken a shade, displeased with the little body crawling to her basket, close to reaching in. Hana wriggles and jumps off Jungkookâs lap, her voice high-pitched when she starts whining, âNooo! Not you!â
Right. Thereâs that, too.
The miniscule hand almost knocking over the basket, the same eyes as his sisterâs, but the expressions a lot closer to yours. The surprise in his gaze is similar to the one you see right behind him, belonging to the partner in crime.
You rush to lift the near-accomplice before Hana can reprimand them both. And he looks just like you when he stares at you in shock, not minding the warmth, hands close to his body before they settle right on your clavicles.
He averts his gaze, following the drama on the ground. And the other twin, the one heâd been hurrying to, looks like your occasionally whining self, too, when Hana reaches him.
Jungkook might have enjoyed a copy of himself in her for years now, but you got two boys with your features instead. They clutch at you at all times, much as Hana sticks to her father.
Jaehoon, clever and thoughtful, secure in your arms, and then Jaehyuk, usually radiant, on the floor. Only right now, he isnât as cheerful anymore.
Rather devastated, startled as Hana opens the small fist crushing a flower. He ogles around with wide eyes, already breathing towards crying, and then, finally â juts out his lower lip. Seeks your attention; and when he catches your tilted, worried look, he starts weeping.
As if your presence permitted his breakdown. You sigh.
His fist is closed tight, but when Hana sharply orders again, âLet go!â, he does, scrabbling away from her. She collects her possessions with a grunt; you inch closer to her the same moment Jungkook rises from his seat on the diwan.
Lifting the crying Jaehyuk in his arms, he plants a soft kiss onto the childâs temple, shushing him with a gentle, âIt is alright. Look, nothing happened.â
But Jaehyuk still buries his face in Jungkookâs chest, crying harder, actual tears this time around. Jungkook squats down to Hana with a scolding look in his eyes, one eyebrow cocked as he explains, âSuhana, it is good to share.â
She doesnât quite look at him; throws the remainders of the demolished flower into the basket, grazing the petals. Sulking, she defends, âBut he destroyed them.â
âHe is little. You did this as well when you were small.â
Hana shakes her head, convinced, âI do not think that I did.â
âAh⌠really?â
âI donât destroy pretty things!â
Jungkook mimics your sigh, kneeling down, and you shift your eyes for just a moment to check on the baby in your arms. Heâs the calmest in the room, observing the rest of his family with curiosity. You smile a little; heâs beautiful, so innocent, so clueless.
So empathetic.
Worried when he sees his brother still crying, not imitating his sobs, but pointing to his other half before he looks at you as if you understood. Awaiting your answer.
You did understand, actually; you often do. So you nod, telling him, âI know. Jaehyuk is a little sad.â
Jaehoon points again, and then suddenly leans forwards. You hold him tight, walking closer to the rest, and he relaxes. Happy you obliged, a finger in his mouth. You set him on the ground when Jungkook does the same with Jaehyuk, listening in as your husband tries againâ
âLook. You gave me a nice flower, so give him one, too. Heâs your brother, right?â
Hana hesitates. Then, âYes.â
âDonât you love him, too?â You hum at his words, enforcing the message. âYou should give nice things to people you love.â
âYes. But he is annoyingâŚâ
She grants her siblings a look, a little calmer when Jaehyuk sniffles. Jaehoon shifts closer to his disheartened brother, touching his hand, knees close. They can finally sit on their own now, and they use the ability to keep themselves glued to the other.
A second passes before Hana adds, âAlright, he should have one. He is too small to get his own.â
You agree, âThatâs right.â
Holding two different flowers towards the now far calmer Jaehyuk â Jaehoonâs presence seems to help â she inquires, âGood, which one do you like better?â
Her voice is authoritative, the classic older sister. It affects the twins for just a moment as they blink at her; but then, Jaehyuk regards the choices presented to him â though his eyes settle on the marigold quickly.
Opting to grab it, he hits the void when Hana pulls back, shaking her head. Youâre about to nag again, seated on the ground next to Jungkook, much like royals should as your sister would jest, but then hold back when Hana speaks again.
âNo. Grab it from here, yes?â She hands him the stem, and he listens, takes it as carefully as a baby can. âYes, like this.â
And then heâs raising it to his cheek, fascinated by it, touching the petals after all. Jaehoon watches quietly before his beseeching eyes drift to his sister. His plea is soundless, but she understands; says, âYou can have this, Jaehoonie.â
The daisy he receives is from the same spot she plucked Jungkookâs from. Pretty things for her pretty brother. Heâs not sure what to do with it, though, but he imitates the way Jaehyuk plays with it so tenderly, more than happy to accept.
You catch the smile spreading on Hanaâs countenance, balanced out by her sassy little, âBut you have to work for more. These are mine.â
You laugh, content, âThis is good enough.â You reach out to her cheek, caressing for a moment. âBe nice to each other. They love you a lot.â
She only nods, yet baffled when Jaehoon suddenly opts for her, climbing half onto her lap. She gives in, though she can barely properly hold them yet; so she reshifts him as well as she can, placing him in front of her, between her legs.
Like this, they look through the basket; heâs kind and soft, so he doesnât do much anyway. Just stares while Jaehyuk busies himself with the flower until he gets bored and targets the toy he abandoned minutes ago.
Theyâre cooing and conversing, Hana speaking, Jaehoon incoherently babbling. Youâve heard this is good, talking to your kids; apparently, theyâre vocal much more later on.
But the room is filled with noises and a stack of papers, so you turn to Jungkook and suggest, âI can take them somewhere else. Youâre working, so I reckonedâŚâ
âItâs alright,â he, however, assures, âI am already done. This is rewarding, actually.â
âIsnât it tiring?â You regard the scattered children, full of love for them, but brimming with fatigue, too. âI am so⌠exhausted.â
âI know. I understand that you are,â he says, grasping your hand, knuckles to his lips, âwhich is probably why I should stay, too.â
He gets it. You know he truly does, never just says it.
Ever since the birth of your twins, stress, anxiety and restless nights came together to an undesired mix. Barely sleeping makes you prone to headaches and mood swings; one child was already difficult to manage, but threeâŚ
You havenât rested in years. Your skin and your eyes have changed. More tired, more sensitive, your heart a little more feeble.
And the birth wasnât easy, either. You lost a ton of blood again, another source of Jungkookâs resurfaced panic; but this time because there were two kids at once. You feel grateful, you do â but the days and weeks after they were born were hell on Earth.
You didnât quite feel like yourself for so long.
But their warmth and Jungkook helped. Honestly, you canât anyhow fabricate a world without him and his support even just in theory. And beware, such love isnât given; youâve seen friends and relatives wade through terrible experiences.
Jungkook is a man they donât place in every corner of the world, so youâre thankful beyond imagination.
Because you survived due to him. You live because of the humble personalities in this brightly lit room, dimmed only by the grey afternoon sky. Itâs a cruel world at times; some pasts are an accumulation of everything bad. Jungkookâs more than anyoneâs you know.
Looking at him now, you can hardly believe he was once the sad boy stranded in the rain.
That crying, sobbing mess, freezing, seeking peace when he was inundated by misery. ButâŚ
Things came together well, right? The world is less terrifying like this.
You guess the warmth might fall outside all the time, but it never does in these rooms.
âAnd?â
The answer echoes less than it did a moment ago. The peeking head is retracting just slowly, still frozen between the open door and its frame. You donât think his eyes are spying much of concern, and he confirms it when he shakes his head, respondsâ
âNothing.â
âThis should be good enough then.â
âHm, yes. I donât know. It took hours last time, as well.â
Without a piece of context, itâs a hilarious picture. Somehow, it even is with context; so you canât help the quiet chuckle, silencing quickly to avoid waking up the tiny bundle slumbering in your arms.
You reprimand your husband, âBut you canât keep standing there for hours.â
The sigh you receive is deep and long. You understand his worries.
It hasnât been long anyway â the night transpired just a while ago. Still in the back of your mind since Hana waddled to your room, knocking with the might that her fist could possibly conjure; you barely heard it, but you did.
You have been a light sleeper since she was born, so you were shaken awake rather fast. You welcomed her in with softness, veiling the horror in your voice. You were devastated when you saw her feet bare, standing in the dark hallway.
Luckily, the moment turned out not quite frightening â she couldnât sleep. That was it. So you pulled her into your arms and off the ground, stroking her back and her head, planting kisses in her hair.
It took a while to lull her to sleep; to be certain, you kept her right next to you for the remainder of the nightly hours, even though her room was next door. Sheâd mumbled something about a poor bird, and youâd understand only minutes after her silence that she had seen a dead pigeon in the garden that day.
The nightmare this scene called forth prevented her from sleeping comfortably in her chamber for some days to come.
Jungkook had come to bed late that time, so he was long knocked out when Hana came. The regret doubled the next morning when you told him about the occurrence, and Jungkook blamed himself for the coming hours â only, the guilt extended. Still prominent.
Because heâs still glancing out, fearing sheâll come and knock again; fearing it might go unnoticed once more.
âI would hear it,â you reassure, âI always will.â
âWhat if you donât?â
âI will,â you try again; you keep your voice low, soft, understanding his string of thoughts. But you miss him next to you, and you want the door to close. You insist, âI will, love. Donât blame yourself for not hearing it, yes? You were tired.â
Jaehoon moves in your arms, a small fist loosening. Heâs fast asleep, but you still wait before you speak again, assuring that he wonât wake up again. Jungkook must be thinking the same, because only once you sigh a breath of relief, he says, âYou are tired, too. Donât undermine your importance hereââ
âJust come to bed, darling.â
Interrupted, his lips morph into a pout, round eyes regarding you for a moment. But it seems you render him at least a little delicate, aware of your effect on him, tilting your head by a few degrees. Your smile must be jarring; because the second you flash it, he gives in.
The door shuts behind him, and he offers an upward twitch of his mouth in response before he asks, âWould you reckon sheâs too young to have her own room?â
âPerhaps⌠I donât always feel very comfortable with her absence at night either. We have gotten too used to her, havenât we?â You shake your head as he steps towards your side of the bed. âBut she wanted this so bad.â
âHmm⌠good thing she spends half of all her nights here anyway.â
âTrue. She got too used to us, as well,â you say before sitting up, eliciting a brief groan as you prepare yourself to put Jaehoon back in his crib. You can barely stand up; your body is exhausted, begs to stay in the resting state for now. âAlright thenâŚâ
But by then Jungkookâs helping hands are already reaching out, his back arching, bowing forwards. Carefully, sweetly, he mutters a little, âNo, let meââ before heâs sheltering his son in his hold, slow and gentle as he tackles the task for you.
For a minute, he remains there, standing over the crib, gazing at the babies so peacefully dreaming away. He does this sometimes â lose himself in the sight. This is a fairytale for him. When he read all those books on parenting years ago, he didnât think itâd come this easily to him.
Not that parenting has ever been particularly easy. Tears and arguments were frequent at points in time, but so were sacrifices and compromises. You knew what such a change did to a vulnerable heart and mind, so you fought through the difficulties with courage.
And it was worth it every single time. All in all, you donât regret a thing; youâd repeat it all if you could. Jungkook is your dream; this life is your dream.
Never ceased to be.
Even now, as he returns to the bed and jumps under the blanket, you register an odd, sparkly feeling in your tummy. It always existed underneath, never diminished or decreased. Ever-so-present, you still cherish its intensity, even after all these years. Or perhaps because of the time that has passed.
Such passion isnât a matter of fact. You know it isnât.
Triggered by the funny, pleasant feeling in your body, your smile grows a little. Softer and more loving when he kisses your shoulder as if to greet you. Proceeds to place his head on your chest as his arms snake around your body, settling in his very own safe space.
âAre you feeling well?â his drowsy voice questions, just a little muffled as the lips graze your gownâs cotton.
âI am. You?â
âJust cold. I need a bit more of this,â he cuddles in, kissing underneath your breasts, right above your ribs. âIt has been raining so much.â
âIt has been indeed.â
âBut,â he shifts, closer to you, âIâve learned to appreciate it now.â
You chuckle. Time steadily passes, but some memories stay right at their assigned spots, like an immovable anchor. Youâre proud, having replaced his terrifying images of natureâs showers with fond ones. And ever since, the rain has felt closer to you, too.
âThat is something, then,â you say, âIâm just sad for the kids⌠they canât stay out too long without feeling under the weather. If I could, Iâd show them the sky all the time, too.â
âAnd how weâre connected to it?â
You laugh again; you wonder if heâs feeling warmer now. Youâre inundated with the heat, at least. âYes, this.â
His grip tightens just a little, a fragile attempt to draw you deeper into him. This is all the laws of physics allow â no gap left for him to close. Yet, he tries. His kiss wanders up as he raises his head, lips missing your clavicles by a bit; thumb stroking the side of your mounds.
âLove,â he calls quietly; when your eyes move to his, you see a change in them. Theyâre fog-shrouded and somehow questioning. âDo you feel tired?â
Youâre surprised; you expected something else. The question doesnât match his expression.
For a moment, you assume that your answer might serve a bigger purpose, so you weigh it back and forth before you decide on a straightforward, âLess than usual. Itâs been so long since we fell asleep together.â
Maybe thatâs whatâs keeping you awake. Maybe thatâs what he wants to hear.
Because he nods fervently against your breasts, cheek pressing against them, and agrees, âIt has been. Yet, do you know it has been only three days in reality?â
Oh. Dang. You guess there is no true limit to your mutual obsession. You shrug, âFeels much longer.â
âWell, in that senseâŚâ Warm digits touch your arm, circling your elbow and then travelling up your skin. âThere is one good thing about Hana sleeping in the other room, yes? Weâre alone for once.â
âUnless she once again catches us in the middle ofââ
âDonât remind me.â
You giggle, but the sound dies when he pushes his palm under your short gown sleeve, caressing your shoulder and then the lower part of your neck. Angling your head, you close your eyes, somehow spitting, âAre you planning something, Sir?â
His leg moves further over your own; thereâs a growing firmness between them that you canât ignore. He teases, âSir? Now, that is new.â
âMmh, do you like it?â
âAdmittedly, it is somewhat odd, but⌠itâs still something.â
âThen, what is going on now?â
âWell, itâs⌠very boring to talk about it. Lemme justââ
The palm covering your tits is sudden, but the mouth exploring them isnât. You felt the touch from miles away, satisfied and alight when his teeth graze over your perked nipple. His hand, restless, works on pushing down your nightgown to bare one side, and heâsâŚ
Impatient, as youâve known.
His tongue is hot and soft, the tip of it merely teasingly brushing over the freed nipple as his hand pushes your tit up, further into his face and towards his mouth. You sigh. He sets fire to your nerves; you feel each of the licks affecting your body.
Then, amidst the comfortable, sweet journey, he suddenly bites.
You gasp, followed by a tiny exclaim of an, âOuch,â and work on playfully escaping his advances â to no avail. He laughs against your bud, his hands stronger than your dishonest attempt as they pin your arms to the mattress.
His eyes are evil, an eyebrow cocked, lips parted as he breathes, âWhat?â
âYouâre about to lose it again. I can see it!â
âAh⌠do youâ do you not want me to?â Heâs still in a daze, his words mumbled. He moves back just a little, wondering if youâre not quite where he is tonight. But you shake your head the moment he suggests, âIâll hold myself back if I need tââ
âOh, can you?â
Youâre smiling, so heâs quickly encouraged to offer a grin of his own; honestly admits, âNo⌠but I will for you.â
âYou will for me?â The everlasting beam on your face is inevitable; how could you keep your cool, pretend youâre not thoroughly warmed when he says things like these? âWhile I appreciate how thoughtful you are⌠Iâm not a fool.â
Not a fool. I wonât decline.
âThen⌠May I kiss you?â
âYouâre asking so politely, how could Iââ
Thereâs no time to reject, even if you wanted to. His kiss is abrupt and hard, though his lips still refrain from any aggression just yet. He lifts his hands from next to your head to above it, dragging your captive arms with them.
As his head tilts, deeper in the kiss, his tongue mingles with yours with a tempting hum so unique to his voice â as if heâs tasting a delicatesse. Your mouths are in main action, but both your bodies are reacting in their entirety, too.
In constant motion, winding, closing in.
His upper body urges you down until youâre flat on your back; the nightgown settles back over your tits again as you move, but he grabs your flesh above the clothing, kneading. Clumsily, with his eyes still shut, he attempts to unlace the front of your gown.
You wait for his intention to manifest into reality, readily letting his palm brush over your hot skin, your neck, your jaw. But once he opts to undress you fully, your patience dwindles, and you let him know, âI donât want to wait this time.â
âAh, alright, alright⌠This is how weâre doing things tonight?â
Your poor dress will be wrinkled up by the morning; you know by the way heâs hiking it up your leg this time, stopping at your waist, force of habit. Thereâs a satisfying, delighted smile on his face, mixing with a pleased sound when he discovers youâre bare underneath the gownâ
And it seems it motivates him more rapidly to tug at his own trousers. You nod as if to encourage him further, hands seeking out the hem of his pyjamas. But youâre as useless from this angle as can be.
So he sits upright, slipping out of it, pushing it down his thighs until itâs wrapped around his knees. Heâs no better, really; just as naked, just as uncovered underneath the trousers, as if the two of you planned this, or hoped for this.
Kneeling, he pushes your legs apart, spreading until your flexibility stops. He settles between them properly, leaning down, and uses the position to kick off the rest of his disruptive trousers. The length of his cock, as unbelievable as ever and quickly hardening, presses against your damp cunt â bliss for the moment, but torture for the next.
The way his cock dips between your folds and rubs along your pussyâs growing dampness feels almost deliberate. As if heâs tormenting you, demonstrating his power over you, stiff past your hole and up your tiny clit without ever diving in.
But you wonât lie â you could probably come from this alone. Itâs embarrassing, being so weak in his presence. And the filthy sounds, wet and inappropriate, donât help a bit.
So youâre not sure whether youâre relieved or agitated when the touch finally vanishes but his mischievous smile doesnât. Itâs somewhat weak, hindered by the lust clouding his brain, but itâs insane and misbehaved either way.
Heâll kill you one day; or you might kill him. You donât know who might end up asserting the more hazardous dominance.
For now, itâs you whoâs surrendering. How could you not, considering heâs conjuring his own battle plan right above you, hand reaching between his and your legs and underneath the blanket toâ
Damn the tip of the digits against your clenching cunt. Heâs not even inside, but you react immediately. Know to bite your lower lip when he circles your clit a little, the position and the spread legs keeping you from shutting your thighs.
Your head falls to the side; Jungkook considers it an opportunity. He plays around your nub further, testing the waters, and when you moan out, he closes the gap between the two of you, latching onto your neck to suck and kiss and bite.
âFuck,â you curse, incessantly hoping the kids are deeply asleep and wonât have to witness their motherâs foul language this early on. âFuck, start alreadyââ
He knows you arenât talking about his fingers; theyâre already in action, tapping your clit, drawing over it. Then moving down, slipping along your wetness, already drenched when he decides to ram a finger in.
Yet, he understands youâre still referring to the member standing tall, anticipating and urging for you but holding back either way. No, instead he chooses to drive you crazy first, using a free hand to grab your chin and turn your head back to him, going for another messy kiss.
And you canât do more than give yourself to him so willingly, wincing and whimpering as he finger-fucks you as well as the position allows. Itâs not ideal like this, and to your chagrin, he canât use his skills fully, but the fact that he can turn your thoughts this incoherent speaks volumes already.
You canât wait⌠canât wait for him to bury himself in you.
Half hovering over you, he soon loses the strength to keep himself afloat, dipping and retracting his fingers to lead his cock there instead; still, once again, without fucking you dumb yet. Youâre drifting, but still too sane for your liking.
Your wetness helps him toy with you some more; he keeps pumping with his hand as he humps you once, twice, and you mutter his name and a couple mumbled pleas â but he remains as wicked as ever.
But when the dam breaks and your mind explodes, you exclaim his name again in pure desperation, half your brain gone when he pushes just his tip inside you and continues jerking off to make himself as hard as he can.
Eventually, you demand, âPut it in!â
The shake of his head is vile. Your eyebrows furrow at the man, and you try to grind up into him â he doesnât let you. Only the head remains inside you, and he keeps doing his thing, not leading it in or out, just drenching himself.
You reprimand, âYouâre being impossible tonight.â
âArenât I?â he responds, like a naughty child whoâs caught and proud of its sins. He presses another peck to your lips, his words breathy when he reveals his true thoughts, âNo, sweetheart, it is just thatâ you arenât ready. Thatâs it.â
You arenât ready? You feel like youâre overflowing. But you understand; thereâs no room for impatience after all. Itâs happened before â him pushing in, only to realise it was too early, that it pained you instead of pleasuring you.
âWellâŚâ you start, dumbfounded. He noticed and you didnât â the ultimate proof that he knows you inside out. âYou couldâve said this earlier. Put it in my mouth then.â
âHuh?â
âRight now. This will help, too.â
âOh⌠yes? Iâ I wonât reject the offer.â
Of course he wonât. In fact, he climbs up the bed quickly, lifting, caging your body between his knees. The sight is incredible; thighs as wide as your face, muscular. You hold onto them, bask in the sight of the dangling package, harder by the moment.
With effort, he says, âJust for a second.â The tip taps against your mouth, hot as he pushes it inside. Thick and heavy on your tongue, his cock twitches, affected by the swirl of the wet muscle and the hollowing of your cheeks. âYes⌠not long, noââ
He must be talking to himself. Keeping himself from thrusting and fucking your mouth all the way to the end. And when you bop your head up and down, lightly touching his balls and the parts of the length you canât swallow, he restates, âI really do not want to wait.â
You let go for a moment with a slurping sound, agreeing, âFine by me,â before you come back to go in harder. Giving him all you can, crossing your legs, seeking reprieve.
And you think youâd quickly overflow, by virtue of his enticing reactions, if the moment wasnât so short lived.
Because it seems he reaches a limit when your drool starts flowing down the side of your face, nasty and warm, your throat still working full time on not gagging. On staying quiet. Itâs become a task by now.
And for the first time tonight, Jungkook doesnât serve the devil, but pulls back.
While itâs a pity â why didnât he finish in your mouth? â you wonât deny your selfish part. The one that craves and awaits, glad when his body disappears beneath the sheets again, his head with it.
Whatâ
Wonât he start? You didnât expect him to fall out of your sight entirely. And thereâs not much guessing needed until you understand that heâs aiming for his favourite spot, his tongue lapping up your juices a moment later.
He kisses your cunt just once, slides a stripe between your folds, and youâre certain his goal is much more profound. Normally, youâd be fully down for this, but youâve reached a limit you canât bear anymore.
So you whisper, âYou donât need to.â
He doesnât register it right away, spitting and feasting further; more kisses, more tongue, untamed until you grip his hair and raise his head off of you. He obliges surprisingly easily when you pull him back to your lips, reiterating, âI donât want to fucking wait. JustâŚâ
âI know,â he says, peck after peck, in between each word, âI know. I have had enough, too, I haveââ
His arm steals your breath when he twines it around your body like a vine, arching your back, lifting you by mere inches. Both his hands are busy; caressing your sides or your face; heâs confident about the touch, about the eagerness the two of you harbour for each other.
Which is why he doesnât even guide his length towards your pleading heat anymore, gliding up and down; hard enough to stand tall against it, poking as if knocking. The thought makes you laugh for only a moment before your lungs suddenly emptyâ
Part of his cock slips in effortlessly; thereâs no resistance, no struggle, no need to glance down and complicate matters. You welcome him easily; match his smirk, proud and unsurprised about your keen craze when he says, âWasnât supposed to happen already. I wanted another moment toââ
You vigorously shake your head. âToo late. Too damn lateââ
The last word comes out strained as your body comes in motion, moving against him. And he matches your pace and fervour, shoving himself in harder. Unable to resist anymore, all the teasing vanishes along with his patience.
Instead, he bottoms out at once, and you yelp, an unintentional volume that he immediately shuts with a hand over your mouth and a chuckle. Jungkook enjoys playing the beast when heâs with you like this, but he canât suppress his amusement when he shushes you.
âAre y-you trying to wake the mansion, huh?â
But his words are nothing but a breath, airy and quiet. Such a whistling whisper that it, much as your noise, might just be enough to wake everybody, too. The irony is comical.
You shake your head and his hand with it, relying on your nose to breathe the oxygen still left in the room. Your neck feels hot, your face and body burning up. Not quite sure whether itâs the way heâs handling you or whether your leg is actually trembling like this.
His strokes, slowly starting, shake up your body at least. The friction drives you insane; his length, reaching a mind-boggling depth, renders you so stupid each time. Thick against your walls, leaving no gap, no spot untouched.Â
Youâre boiling under his hand, somehow glad about the muffled sound. Because if he didnât silence you like this, youâd be wreaking havoc right here, an unbridled mess wrapped in your husbandâs body.
They say love and passion fade sometimes; that affection lessens when you get used to it, bored of it. But the two of you havenât reached that stage yet â you doubt you ever will.
Because the flames that have surrounded you ever since you fell into these depths for the other⌠they donât ever seem to dim. Who wouldâve thought that a candle could turn into an inferno?
No, your body signals more than enough; this isnât boredom. This isnât a reduction in adoration. You feel the devouring and the worship in each thrust and touch and kiss and gaze.
In each curse and movement, how he shifts you and you wind. Dancing in the sheets and shivering under the goosebumps as he hears your stifled moans drowned out by his palm. If he could, heâd listen all day; if the circumstances allowedâŚ
He rams into you hard but slowly and only raises the pace gradually; once heâs gotten used to the effect, however, and seeks to possess you more, he sends your body up the sheets. Each time, over and over again, restraint thrown overboard.
You mewl with a raised head and tightly shut eyes; his hand drops just a little, and you, in your misty moment, dig your teeth into the finger still covering your lower lip. The sound he lets out suggests pain here, but then again⌠lust there.
His voice is feathery, mellow; as if heâs softly charmed, seduced rather than achingly bitten.
Lips apart and eyes hooded, he relocates his hand just a little, twisting it until the thumb grazes your chin, hand laying on your cheek as the forefinger dips into your mouth. Itâs difficult to focus; what does he look at?
The way his digit is gently trapped between your teeth, the tip of it teased by your tongue? The arch of your mouth and how his finger presses against the lower lip? Or the heat that grows under his palm, the rise of your chin, the eyes rolling back before shutting?
A feral urge expands in him, growing like a well-watered seed; he doesnât know how you do it, but you encapsulate all his beginnings and ends in a moment, now and always.
Your hair is a mess by the time he removes his other hand from it, not quite sure when he grabbed a patch at all. He pins one of your legs to the side, angling it, and you breathe unsteadily, mumbling a tiny, âOhâ Kookââ
âYes.â
Itâs not quite a dialogue, but neither of you cares for it. There isnât much to say at all. And neither any calls of his or your name, nor his quiet, âI love you so much,â do the emotion bubbling in his stomach justice.
In all honesty, he could explode just looking at you. Youâre a wonder of nature, arenât you? You pump relief and craze and comfort and insanity into him, one after another and all at once.
âBaby,â you call out the moment his teeth drag your damn gown down your tits again, kissing them, nibbling at your nipple. âI think I might alreadyâ soonâŚâ
You donât know whether itâs because itâs been so long, or because Jungkook knows just well how to fuck you right, but youâre nearly bursting. Or is it the mental picture of the movements heâs granting you?
Elegant yet beastly thrusts, hips and ass and upper body swaying up and down steadily; slow, then fast, then soft, then hard⌠rhythmic and then stutteringâ
He wipes the hair off your forehead, and then whispers warm and close to your ear, âHey, do you⌠know how obsessed I am with you?â A peck to your earlobe, and you wind, ticklish and pleased. He shifts to your lips, the kiss an inch away. âYouâyouâre all Iâll ever need.â
You canât serve as much of a smooth and rational answer as him, but you still tell him all lost, âThenâ be with me⌠me, always, yes?â
He chuckles; youâre not sure why. Perhaps this is such a matter-of-fact for him that he doesnât need it spelled out. âYes⌠yes. What else? Where else would I go?â
Away from you â even for a moment, even just a bit. Right now, you canât bear the thought of a hint of a distance between the two of you. You want him close, closer, part of your heart, thawing with you in cool falls and cold winters.
âYouâre pretty,â he then proceeds, tugging at your lip, âdonât know where to touch you. So pretty.â
âEverywhere. Just donât stopâ touching me,â you begin, every now and then interrupted by an exhausted kiss, âat all.â
âRight.â And still, he backs away out of the blue, all touch gone except the gentle rub along your hip, and you stare up at him with big eyes, body so empty before he orders, âTurn around.â Heâs acting tough, but you see the madness in his eyes the moment he says it. âQuickly.â
Quickly.
You know what heâs thinking without him vocalising any of it. Know what heâll do before he does it.
With quivering limbs, you oblige, helped by his hands as he hauls the gown easily over your body, crumpling it up and placing it next to the pillow. Within a moment, youâre bare, head to toe.
He keeps you on your knees, reluctant to wait a second before he enters you again. His hand lands on your ass, pulling apart to see better, and once all in, he starts moving again.
You donât need to glance back to know that the muscles of his back and his ass are flexing, tanned and golden. The veins of his arms are probably protruding, his abs and chest damp, latter heaving. You know he probably resembles some textbook God, and maybe thatâs what topples you over the edge.
That and⌠the hand on your clit.
Softly circling, the nub immensely sensitive, limbs buckling and weak. You require all your might to not fall and close your legs and sob.
But the tears are inescapable; one or two tip over your waterline when you finally come to an end. His prior teasing and the anticipation already drove you too close to the peak, and it seems that now youâre surrendering eventually.
You shake, your arms more so than the rest of your body. Wobbly, you try to keep yourself upright, but as the blur covers your vision and the waves crash over your pelvis and stomach, you let your cheek fall to the pillow. Hands clutch the sheets.
The tremor is out of control.
And youâre still riding out that high, aided by his continuing shoves and hammering. Heâs generous when he pushes you all the way down, a hand on the small of your back as he says, âTake your timeâ Iâm almost there, fuââ
Take your time with what? You donât know; the chances are high he doesnât either. Or is he talking to himself again?
To no avail, though, because heâs manic, uncurbed. Your cheek digs into the pillow, the bed moving more than it has during these moments lately. Heâs chasing ecstasy, calling your name and little words, such as, âLove, sweetheart, darling,â over and over again like itâs his sole vocabulary.
His lips move over your shoulder and to your back, featherlight as opposed to how heâs fucking you. The care with which he kisses your skin leaves you gasping, affects you whole, and you feel the shiver down your spine, along your arms.
You want to stay awake all night. Want this to keep going.
Funny, how this very thought is followed by a question you neither expect nor grasp, âHave I⌠kissed you too much already? Are you sick of it?â
You think your eyebrows furrow, or perhaps you imagine it, because there is no way your facial muscles still have that much energy left. But he must be out of his mind, daring such questions. Is there such a thing as getting sick of him?
âWhyââ
This man never lets you finish. There is an art to interrupting without irritating, and heâs mastered it â because you can barely complain when his hand wraps around your neck, cautiously lifting and turning your head to make out with you again.
The tongue sneaks into your mouth right away; the kiss is barely a kiss, too filthy and chaotic to be called such. Rather, youâre eating each other up, mixing your moans, crazed by his drilling until his breaths turn laboured and his sounds hoarse.
They come straight out of his throat, sweet in your ears. And before you know it, heâs getting to his knees and rapidly pulling out; you feel vulnerable and tender, thoroughly worn out. The heat is blistering and your mind gone â but you still notice the ropes landing on your ass.
Sticky and hot and plenty. Scattered over your flesh; you contribute some, too, moving your ass left and right just a little, and it seems heâs enjoying it. Groans as he pumps on; when you look back at him, eyes halfway closed, you give him the rest.
And a couple seconds later, tongue poking the corner of his lips, heâs done.
Panting, whispering something you canât understand, weak⌠but done. Close to falling onto you until he realises he probably shouldnât.
Instead, he lays down next to you. Your eyes are closed, but you immediately feel a loving brush over your cheek, ridding it of the strands sticking to your face.
You shake your head â or at least, you think you do. Itâs probably more of an attempt, just a slight movement before you playfully scold, âGreat⌠what do we do about this now?â
Jungkook swallows, calming down as he responds, âOver thereâ thereâs a jug of water on the table still.â
ââŚAnd?â
âI will go and find a cloth?â
The careful question in his tone is so sweet. Youâre not sure if he intended to stain your skin like this before the lust took over him. What a fool for you. Enough to barely ever think of the consequences, be they big or small.
In this sense, you could say that falling for you happened without a single thought for him, too, didnât it?
He was chasing a different plan. Didnât fathom that he was losing himself in you. And when he did, he didnât consider the aftereffects and the risks of what his uncle had come up with; Jungkook didnât care much about anything at all but being with you.
Heâs told you many times.
Back when you hid in that room, or touched in the carriage â in those fleeting moments, the future didnât consist of what his relatives needed, but of what he could give to you. Who he could be to you.
In hindsight, he was so in love with you. Looking at your relationship, you canât compare the affection you started out with for each other with the overload of passion now, but⌠goddamn, he was so in love with you. You know.
And the truth is that no matter what obstacles life may place on your road ahead, neither of you will love the other less than the minute before.
You laugh when you meet his big, brown eyes, asking, âIs there any cloth in this room?â
âI⌠I think I brought one before. Should be on the tableâŚâ
âMight be good enough.â
âOr I can get one from the kitchen.â
You scoff. âYou want to sneak around the mansion now? Really?â You lift your upper body, balancing it on your arms, catching him as he licks his lips at the sight of your bouncing tits. You nod towards the table. âThat will do. Go and free me from your stuff.â
âTsk. Good.â
You were right; his idea sufficed. And the kids are still asleep â a double win for you. In theory, youâre ready to crash for the night, succumbing to fatigue. But the truth is that only your body feels spent; your brain doesnât just yet.
So as Jungkook wipes over the flesh of your ass, you confess, âIâm still not tired enough.â
âMmmh, me neither.â
ââŚSo what now?â
He falls back to his side with another grunt, throwing the dirty cloth to the floor. You reach out, grazing his chest, playing with the cotton heâs still sporting. He probably knows what youâre hinting at, despite being already battered, but he ignores your advances just toâ
âMh-mh,â he rejects, âI want to talk. I just⌠I need to hear your voice for a bit.â He stops the finger on his chest, raising your hand to his lips, and kisses each knuckle. Dramatically, he adds, âWhat would I do without your voice?â
You ponder. Then jest, âStill hear it in your mind somewhere.â
âYes, very true. I still always do in the office.â
You laugh, so gripped by the emotions stuck to your heart. âSo, what would you like me to say?â He shrugs, an indicator for, âAnything.â So you ask, âWould you like me to tell you a story?â
âYes⌠story. Yes, tell me one.â
âI can think of one right away. Sort of a lullaby.â
âSo itâs got to be a good one,â he says as he covers you with the thick blanket. An arm over you pulls you closer to him. âRight?â
Your eyes drift to the window. Youâre lucky, sleeping in a bedroom with a view. Jungkookâs office has one, too, but Hanaâs room, while next door, doesnât. Youâre at the far end of the corridor and this mansionâs wing, risking much, so exposed.
Perhaps youâll move your room to a safer place in the mansion soon. But for now, youâre grateful for the sky, the stars, the moon. The pouring cloudburst.
Jungkook might have caught your distraction; because he wraps one of your hair strands around his finger, inquiring, âMay I guess?⌠Is it a story about the fall and the rain?â
Your lips twitch upward to a smile. Flooded by past pictures, you refuse to end the night, preparing for a concluding tale as you sayâ
âHow did you know?â
When it knocks at your chamber door the next sunrise, you could swear you havenât slept more than a handful of hours. The exhaustion weighs on your eyes and muscles, body limp as you stir awake. Your voice is still hoarse.
So youâre startled.
Not just because itâs early or because of the interrupted, peaceful slumber; and not just because thereâs a knock at the grand, adorned door, either. In reality, it occurs regularly â for Jungkook and his work, or to remind you of your childrenâs riding and violin lessons, or to inform you of the arrival of guests.
This time itâs the latter. Yet, youâre alarmed, not even because of the guest, but because itâs Sunday, and you donât usually expect a visitor on Sundays â unless, perhaps, something is transpiring down in the village that needs your urgent assistance.
But â these things are rare. People here regard it as their rest day, too. Itâs why you wake up drowsy and confused, ready to sleep the fatigue off and hoping itâs nothing too grave. Squinting an eye shut, you glance at the longcase clock in the corner of your room.
Seven in the morning.
You register a mumble of a voice next to you, low and gravelly, welcoming the staff inside who, a second later, informs, âVisitor for you, Lord Jeon.â
Jungkook sighs. A hand emerges from under the heavy, floral blanket, rubbing his tired, puffy eyes. He hums in gratitude, telling the informant heâd be downstairs in a minute; and when the young man has stepped away, Jungkook half turns to you.
His voice is still husky and half asleep when he gently wipes a strand behind your ear and says, âGo back to sleep. Might be Byun for the boxing ring. I should be back in a little.â
You only nod, moving his cradling hand with it. You can barely speak, fighting the urge to yawn. Frankly, you wouldnât know what youâd be uttering anyway, though your mind is still present enough to understand that heâs kissing your knuckles and then leaving his side empty.
Falling back into the mattress, you once again hope for a speedy get-together on the floor down below; but when you awake again, the clock indicates the passing of over a full hour. The bed is still half vacant.
You wonder whatâs going on, gradually cracking your eyes open to the ceiling until your brain fathoms well enough that a meeting this early shouldnât take so long, and that anyway, thereâs no reason for a business visitor to come by this soon into the day.
So you clear your throat, sitting up at the edge of the bed. You wrap yourself in your gown and your silk coat, arms folded as if to protect yourself. Itâs just cold; a chill autumn day.
And as you walk down the staircase, you hear faint chattering from the main hall, like a tiny whisper from here. Thereâs only some staff in the welcoming hallway, but theyâre guarding the parlour. Thatâs where the voices are coming from.
Nobody hinders you from entering the room when you do. Of course not; thereâs no reason to.
But the atmosphere is still oddly charged when you step in, meeting Jungkookâs pale face from afar. You blame it on the sleepless night, just as much as the somewhat dark circles under his eyes.
Still, it gets weirder as you near; because heâs looking at somebody who has their back turned to you. A woman with long black hair, gazing down; and when Jungkook detects you, he looks terrified.
Uprighting himself, blinking, drawing a breath too deep to not worry.
You automatically assume the worst; bad news from the city? Some issues in the village? Or a girl trying her charm on your husband? Wouldnât be the first time.
You round the chair she made herself comfortable on; and your surprise increases, skyrocketing when you notice that she didnât come alone. Thereâs a child next to her. Proper and sweet, certainly older than Hana.
His hands are neatly folded in his lap, hair combed back. Heâs just listening, it seems, to whatever they spoke about. And his face⌠his face looks familiar somehow; as does the girlâs, yet in an entirely different way.
âGood morning,â you greet the woman and she responds with a nod. âIs everything alright?â you finally ask, turning to Jungkook, a hand on his shoulder. âYou didnât come back.â
But Jungkook doesnât answer. Your heart grows a little more wary. Because, why is he so speechless? Why does he look scared, eyes wide, chest risen, as if heâs holding his breath? Blinking faster.
The woman is back to staring at her legs, shifting her hand to grip the little one next to her; and the boy looks like he doesnât want to be here at all. At the same time, however, he starts to admire the fancy interior of your mansion.
The lustre, the floor, the table, the chairs. Everything youâve grown used to.
âWhat is wrong?â you try again. Panic watered by Jungkookâs lack of response, you gulp, but still steady yourself and remain polite. âMay I ask⌠who are you?â
Youâre looking at the woman again. She glances up to you. Sheâs gorgeous â full and curved lips, light brown eyes, pitch black hair. Looks young; about your age. She doesnât answer, but Jungkookâs quivering voice does.
âThis is Jihyo, darling.â
Well, alright. Doesnât tell you much. Youâve seen her, maybe even heard the name, you think. Is she from your town? But you canât assign her any significanceâŚ
âWhat does this mean?â you inquire.
âShe⌠She wanted to talk to me,â he explains, âshe came all the way from a village close to our hometown.â
âAh. To say what, exactly?â
You donât want to sound agitated; but the suspense is growing unnecessarily, and you want whatever truth out. And honestlyâ
The tension forms a little something in your head. Not enough time has passed for him to properly answer, but you still repeat, âTo say what?!â
You feel like you have a hunch⌠youâre starting to come up with theories. And the worst of them dizzy you, make you want to yell and throw up, tempting you to smash a nearby vase.
Did he⌠could he do this to youâŚ
No.Â
âJihyo and I knew each other⌠way before you and I got married. Way before.â
He echoes the last two words as if to reassure you; like the verbal equivalent of a soft hand on your back, rubbing you in comfort. But⌠the tactic doesnât quite bear fruits. Your chest tightens more; the fatigue of the morning eventually fades.
âAnd?â you prompt, regarding her. âWhy arenât you saying anything then?â
âI have⌠to him. IâI do not quite know if it is my place toââ
âNo, it is not,â you interrupt, âmaybe youâre right. My husband should explain, no?â
But heâs stuttering as much as her. You donât lose your patience often with him, or with people for that matter. Youâre a cheerful person, fuelled by the miracles of the world. ButâŚ
This is pulling out your worst self.
âIââ he starts.
Terrified. What the hell is going on? You wait â wait more as he swallows. And then, when he drops the explanation, your heart falls with it. Bursts, plummeting from such a height.
âJihyo and I met for a while and⌠she just came and told me that this⌠heâsââ
You understand.
You understand immediately because your guts warned you the moment you saw his expression. You look back and forth between him, her and the child, realising the similarities once and for all, well aware from experience why similarities are a thing in a family andâŚ
You can barely hear yourself emit the words once they tumble out; like your voice isnât your voice, and your thoughts arenât your thoughts, âThis⌠is your son?â
Like youâre living somebody elseâs day whoâs about to trudge through a life-changing, agonising event. Because this canât be happening to you. Actually, itâs not sinking in at all; youâre fantasising, and you refuse to believe reality.Â
âJihyo says he is my son,â he paraphrases, as if he doesnât really believe her, either, âheâs uhm. Heâs six years old.â
Your mind begins to calculate immediately. Sudden dread fills you â because wait. Werenât you together at that time? Did Jungkook hide from you, lingering in the dark, and yet another past is catching up to the two of you?
No. Hold on once more.
You got married to him five years ago. Were engaged and together for a year before. That makes six. You curl in the fingers in your mind, keeping up your math.
Itâs been wrong all along, so you need to be correct this time.
Okay, so, if her â no, his, their son was born six years ago, itâd mean that Jungkook had been with her not too long before you. Thatâs not way before you got married, is it?
Your breath hitches. You blink the way he did before â not sure what to do or say. Your eyes move over to the rosy cheeks of the child again. He looks so innocent, still clueless, even though he perfectly understands what Jungkook just said.
Who the man is to him.
Of course. Same doe eyes, button nose, shape of face; like a damn copy. Not that the truth hurts enough, no â it had to be accompanied by another of his faces. Not in your own sons, somewhat in your daughter, but in him.
But you guess everybody is confused.
Even Jungkook. Most of all Jungkook, right?
Jihyo says he is my son.
Why? Does he not realise it?
That must mean he didnât know, did he? And the child didnât know either.
Jeon Jungkook, your husband of half a decade, has a son he never knew of. Older than Hana. Predating all of your history with him, alive and a toddler already back when you so profoundly believed that you were the first to share this very bond with this man.
To be the first for him at least once. ButâŚ
Youâre not.
âSay something,â you hear him plead.
His voice is a little farther away. Your eyes drift back to him; he looks miserable, a hand reaching out. His fingers graze the tip of yours, but you retract in time. He sighs in absolute sorrow, face falling, as if his chest is surrendering.
You barely whisper when you answer, âWhat do you want me to say?â
Itâs him and you; the woman is quiet, and youâre shattering. She canât do anything anyway. Only contorts her face in pure guilt when Jungkook, defeated to the core, begs, âAnything.â
âAs you wish.â Another glance at her. Sheâs looking at you, too. âWhy are you here now?â
Her eyebrows raise; sheâs caught off guard, but she still has an answer ready. Of course; Jungkook heard all of it minutes before you are, so it must be easy.
âI⌠I havenât been doing well. The man I was supposed to marry left when he found out I carried somebody elseâs child⌠evenâ even before that, actually.â Jungkook breathes air through his lips as she explains; you canât tell why. âAnd I need help. Any help.â
âI see⌠And you couldnât come years earlier, I assume? When I didnât have three children of my own?â You lift the corresponding number; your cheeks are fiery hot. âWhen there was nobody Iâd have to explain this to? HowâŚâ
You shake your head, disgusted with your attitude, but more devastated by the situation. So you spit, âHow selfish are you?â
Her mesmerising eyes are so big; with her and Jungkookâs lives combined, their son could only end up with these grossly sweet eyes, pupils fracturing your heart. Sheâs looking at you as if youâre about to eat her.
Then she apologises, âIâm sorry⌠I tried to get by for as long as I could.â
âDidnât you know we have a family?!â
âI knew! Iâ Of course I knew.â
Jungkook is royalty; people in your city know the two of you. Know your story. You wonder what this will do to you both.
âAnd,â you continue, âyou still thought itâd be a good idea to bring chaos to our home.â
âI did not wish for this at all,â she defends, âI felt terrible all the while, and⌠I was so desperate, please try to understand. I need something, anything and⌠If his father can provide any of it in any wayâŚâÂ
His father⌠his fatherâŚ
You might spiral. The same thoughts circle your head at a pace that might make you faint.
This woman. This child. And his father.
You canât breathe.
So you donât respond to the sheer idiocy she just uttered, still in disbelief; the denial will be over in a minute. But for now, it hurts and youâre confused and absolutely out of touch with reality, and⌠fuck, your stomachâ
You put a palm to your chest; the rise and fall is heavy. And just as he calls your name, you bolt away.
Just a second before you once again feel his fleeting digits miss your wrist, a lingering ghost touch as you run.
The first instinct your feet follow leads you to Jungkookâs office.
Somewhere in a corner of the mansion, you have your own chamber, dedicated to your time and your moments; but somehow, you still land in a room drenched in the scent youâre fleeing from.
And itâs counterproductive, the way youâre moving. Fast enough to dim his calls, but slow enough for him to catch up, too. Like you want him to follow. You know heâd find you even if he wasnât hot on your trail, because you like to hide there.
But on other days, itâs you finding solace in him, not away from him.
Youâre dizzy, deeply breathing when you shut the door behind you, both palms on the heavy door. You keep them there as if they could guard you from the disaster outside. But they donât. None of it might.
Because heâs still right there, busting your glass heart when you hear steps outside, nearing; closer, too close, the corresponding voice hesitating for not a momentâ
âOpen⌠open, please.â
And suddenly, youâre crying.
There is no warning, no quiet tear falling, no steady progress. The stream of shock and grief is immediate, and it leaves your eyes, passes your cheeks, collects at your chin so fast that you barely notice the door blurring.
Youâre sobbing; your forehead collides with the cold of the door, the carvings unpleasant against your skin. Where are your kids? They must still be asleep. Or maybe somebody is already â hopefully â taking care of them.
Jaehyuk gets all moody when Jungkook or you stay away for too long. You donât think he should be this attached to you, to not learn to trust others. But trust is fragile and the child seems to know and⌠and⌠you know as well. You wish you could be as oblivious as him, though.
The world doesnât work that way. No, itâs cruel and painful and everything good spoils someday, becomes rotten.
Doesnât it?
Why does the voice on the other side cut you in pieces?
God. You want to return to your children. You want back to what you had last night; you crave their warmth, and his warmth. Of your children, his children.
But wouldnât it remind you again? That the number isnât uneven as you thought. That thereâs more out there; he has more pieces out there that youâre not part of and⌠fuck. Fuck.
âI d-do not want to,â you finally reply, stuttering, words cut.
He silences. Maybe because he can hear you weeping. But he tries again, âPlease⌠open.â
You shake your head against the door, but you know such a choice wonât lead anywhere. Heâll stay right there and youâll keep telling him to leave, and despite his guest downstairs, heâll persist.
So your hands sneak to the handle, weakened by the shaking. Jungkook doesnât barge in until the door cracks open a slit; and when he steps into the room, you tumble back, out of his reach.
You donât want his embrace. You donât need his arms.
No, thatâs a lie.
You do, but you canât brave them right now. Body weightless, you rely on your voice, stating, âYou never told me.â
His face is fallen, cheeks rounder when he looks to his feet. Theyâre flushed; the hue is so different from what youâre used to seeing. Itâs always accompanied by a smile and crinkles around his eyes, sometimes shy, sometimes delighted.
This time itâs something else. Embarrassment and guilt and pain.
Thereâs a crease between his eyebrows, smoother due to your quiet tone; but itâs still there, distressed. Pained when he admits, âI didnât know. I didnât know a thing.â
âWho is she?â
He knows that, at least. You need to move away from pointless questions and throw those that youâre certain he possesses knowledge about.
He says, âSheâs somebody I knew⌠so long ago.â
A thought after another creeps into your head, like a parasite, feeding on your sanity. You feel crazy and sick when a horrifying idea makes its way through, but you canât resist the question regardless of the answer.
âWas she⌠was she one of the people you tried things with? To escape townâŚâ
âNo⌠she wasnât part of any of this.â
And you cannot say if this is better or worse than what you expected. He wasnât as terrible as to try with this many women. But if she wasnât part of that stupid plot, and you were, does this place her higher in worth than you?
You werenât good enough to be approached without a deal. To be fallen in love with unintentionally. But she was something else. It seems there was something, right?
But heâs with you. He chose you. Youâre his wife, the woman he spends his days with, the only thought in his head. Heâs loved you throughout the years; heâs devoted to you like the moon to the stars, not to her.
And heâs standing here, his eyes begging, his fingers quivering. Youâre the subject of his desire and the name in his heart; he never even mentioned her. Fuck, he breathes for you⌠but you canât seem to breathe.
Youâre the mother of his children, yes. But so is she.
âDid you⌠did you get with my sister or me to forget about her?â
Fuck, youâre breathless. Why are you breaking like this? Why does the moment feel like this? When is it going to be over? Will you wake up easier?
âNoâŚâ he says, shaking his head immediately, âno. You know how it started. It had nothing to do with her, just with himâŚâ
âSo what?!â you spit, unable to contain yourself, somehow not affected enough by the big, sad eyes, pleading and fearing. âWho was she?â
It hurts. It hurts not only because of the obvious circumstances but â your love was born out of a facade, out of a lie. Even if he loves you genuinely now, even if youâd die for him without hesitation â the two of you happened as part of a different purpose.
But she never did.
She was real. Whatever he had with her or felt for her, it stemmed out of something authentic.
Your face heats up when you inquire, ââŚDid you love her?â
âIâŚâ He hesitates. Fucking hesitates. But then says, âI didnât.â
âYouâre lying.â
You donât know if he is. You can usually tell; this seems a little more complicated. One, youâre clouded by your own judgement. Second, the situation isnât easy; Jihyo so obviously belongs to parts of his history.
Jungkook insists again, âI didnât love her.â
âBut you felt something.â
âI donât know,â comes back, and something inside you falls, even if it shouldnât, even if you had nothing to do with whatever was before you came along. You hate it, but you canât stop yourself from plummeting face-forward into pain when he says, âBut she was nowhere close to where you are now. Or where you were even back then.â
Can you believe this? The but pierces through you, repeating in your mind, as if saying, âNo, she was less than you, but still something.â How do you know none of it will return with a child present in his life?
âBut she was enough for a child,â you retort, âand⌠I donât know how careful you were with others, tooâŚâ
âI was. I was careful.â
âBut not with her!â
He doesnât respond. This isnât you; you donât make others feel bad. You endorse empathy and joy. No, this isnât you and it frightens you. If you had it in you right now, youâd take him into your arms. Heâd deserve it, considering that heâs as surprised as you, falling as much as you.
Suffering like you.
But your thoughts are going haywire, and they keep falling out, âI thought I was the first one. I wanted our children to be our firstââ
âI thought so, too,â he defends, âitâs what I would have preferred, baby, I⌠If I could justâŚâ He gulps; itâs as if you can hear it from afar, in this quiet, empty room. Thereâs a pause between his words before he steps closer, whispering, âPlease, I love youââ
âNo, IâŚâ You back away again. Shield yourself. You canât take a single touch right now.
âCan we mend this?â Jungkook asks; the question splits you in half.
Because what could you do, really? This very real fact looms over you, might do so forever.
âMend what?â you echo. âThat you have a child with another woman? What is there to mend? This is reality and you cannot undo it.â
When you look closely enough, his eyes shimmer with tears, too. The sparse sunlight seeping through the windows for the first time in hours upon hours highlights the glimmer, but thereâs nothing soft about it. You recognise dread in it.
Jungkook has been abandoned before, and ever since he married you, heâs been just as afraid, too. It took months and years for the two of you to find a remedy, to decrease the terror. To make him trust your presence entirely. To help him understand that youâre here.
Now, by the looks of it, it seems he isnât sure anymore.
He tries again, desperate, out of his mind, âJust somehow. Somehow, we can fix this, right?â
âFix what, JungkookâŚ?â
âPlease.â
Youâre moving in circles. He keeps imploring you to reconsider, and you remain clueless about what exactly heâs begging for. You just want to know where this is going. Who she is. Who she was.Â
âPlease whatâŚâ you whisper, eyes drifting to the ground. âWhat are we going to do about it, Jungkook? Itâs important to think about, rightâŚ? Who was she to you?â
Who she was?
Jungkookâs memory is fragmented.
Pieces of what she really used to be to him evaporated long ago, just when he turned to look at her properly for the very last time on that warm early summer night. Back then, her smile was fake, apologetic, as if sheâd committed an unforgivable crime.
As if sorry for wasting his time, for hurting him, for watching him leave when she wished for him to stay a little longer.
A similarly sad smile, yet so different in nature, appeared when she greeted him so gently in the hallway today. He was frozen in the staircase, stuck on that damn smile that haunted him for weeks and months back then, trying to understand whether she was actually here.
Wondered how he could make her disappear again. It wouldnât fare well with how he lives his life with you now, he already knew. She was interfering.
And⌠the familiar smile told him she wasnât here to deliver any good news. And even though he doesnât remember it all anymore, he hated how the expression brought back the flood of past images.
The first fuzzy image was of a smile, too, albeit incredibly faded. More optimistic, tender. Enthusiastic, craving the solace and joy of the night as much as Jungkook had.
She stood on the far opposite side of the spacious hall back then; even through the dancing couples, he could see her gleaming, absorbed in a conversation with her dearest friends.
Jungkook had seen her before; perhaps once or twice, but he could barely remember her face. It was as if he was actually looking at her for the first time that night. He didnât think she generally attended too many parties; and when theyâd crossed paths before, theyâd probably been a little younger.
He justâŚ
He couldnât remember her being this striking.
He couldnât recall the dimples or the vibrant smile or the sparkle in her large eyes. Far away in the room, Jungkook lightly bit his lip as he observed, cocking an eyebrow when she gasped to something her friend had said.
As if he was standing next to her and hearing it, too. Mimicking her reaction, caught in a bubble.
And it took her a little to notice him, too. But when she did, her friendsâ eyes followed, an immediate elbow teasing her sides as much as their words. Jungkook could only imagine what they were saying.
What are you looking at?
Is it your turn already? With him, yes?
Oh, and the season has barely begun!
He could read parts of it off their lips. Lifted his ego a little. But he averted his eyes nevertheless, despite the resistance in his movements, only to shift back every now and then.
To his chagrin, the night didnât offer too many opportunities to near where she stood, but as the event snuck to its end, at least a sliver of hope twinkled, even for just a minute. Approaching the carriages at the same time, he found her waiting not too far from him.
Her family was missing just like his; but he was comfortable here, staring at the sky, breathing in the late spring breeze. But her gown, while heavy, wasnât accompanied by a shawl, her arms bare.
He used the chance to ask, âArenât you cold?â
She stared up in surprise, not quite expecting a conversation. Yet, smoothly, and either bold or courageous or sweet, she answered with a confidence so enticing, âHmmm, no. I guess I felt warmed enough throughout the night.â
Interesting. So very interesting.
Jungkookâs lips twitched upwards, an enthralled smile; his voice sounded somewhat different when he asked, âIs that so?â
âMhm. Iâll thank you another day, though.â
Behind her, her folks neared, and he looked ahead and then down, smile still plastered to his face. Even when sheâd left, the sparkle remained in his eyes.
That was it for now.
Jungkookâs and Jihyoâs paths crossed again merely a week later. He understood in that time apart that the tiny interaction had caught him somehow; he was relieved when he saw her again at the next party.
Brave, he joined her where she stood, scanning the finger food before settling on some tartelettes. Heâd been hopeful throughout these days, yes, but Jihyo didnât show her face too often; so he didnât lie when he confessed, âI didnât expect you here.â
âWellâŚâ she answered, âI hoped to see you. I told you Iâd want to thank you.â
âMhhh, Iâm still not sure what for, though.â
She shrugged her shoulders, smile so vibrant. âIt was a pleasant night. I felt warm throughout.â
Sheâd said the same thing last time, waiting at the carriage, moonlit and breathtaking. He smirked a little, satisfied by the flow of the dialogue; then argued, âBut it is the summer season. Heat is all that is ahead.â
ââŚIsnât it?â
Something stirred in Jungkook. He wouldnât analyse her words on other days, but her expression was telling. Made him fearless, whirling his mind as he asked, âHave you explored this place yet?â
âNo. I never get to do so much. But,â she said enthusiastically, licking cream off her snack. Jungkook couldnât look away. âI wouldnât mind walking around. It is hotter inside anyway.â
And matching her fierce response from before, Jungkook added, ââŚI doubt it.â
He was right. Sheâd prove it quick minutes later. In the backyard, stopping in the middle of their walk, he felt the warmth, the heat when she pushed him into an empty corner, lips crashing against his.
Jungkookâs blood scorched indeed; the outside wasnât cooler. In fact, it burned. He burned. And she burned, too. Her skin, her shoulder, the mounds of her breasts underneath the dress that he pulled down.
There wasnât any room or chance to proceed too far, but somehow, Jungkook was content with this.
It made him crave harder; and he enjoyed the feeling. The temptation. The yearning for all he hadnât yet seen, yet felt. He hungered for her; she was the opposite of what the world held, brought him excitement.
Today, he doesnât know if it was this very exhilaration or the need for distraction or something else that dragged him back to her over and over again. He recalls his heart nervously jumping, but he canât recall it blooming. Never the way it did with you. Never.
But she still evoked something different. Reprieve from his days, his sorrows, the grief in his big, old home.
He never told her any of this, but he assumes she saw. Sometimes, sheâd raise his chin when they met in private, mouth breathing close to his, asking if something was wrong. Heâd deny. Heâd dive into her eyes and lips instead, forget about it all, enjoy her empathy.
Sheâd somehow worry, he thought, and then kiss him, tell him it was alright, no matter what it was. That she was there. And heâd appreciate it. Would like the warmth, the care.
And still, heâd go home to tears, suffer all over again. But when he fell asleep, heâd think of her, forbidding the last thought of the night to be anything dreadful, anything but the same pretty smile.
She offered madness. She offered humour, sweetness, and most of all, relief.
Jihyo always refused to walk around town. She never hesitated to decline his offers.
Jungkook was alright with this; didnât question her rejection at first; he didnât know what the two of them were, anyway. There were fuzzy feelings somewhere, something twinkling in his mind and his guts and his chest.
He didnât think love felt this way, however.
He regarded love as a much stronger sentiment than what they had. What was it that they indulged in anyway? Ablaze days and nights, baring themselves behind locked doors, lips on her skin, her sides, her waist, her flesh. Hands on, under, between her legs.
The digits would dig into her hips and remain; his tongue tasted her up, up and down, in and out. Taking in her scent, lapping her up, showing her new things. Body against body. Buried in her, glued to her â could that be love? No.
It was just that, wasnât it? Yes, heâd stopped meeting other women. Yes, heâd be distracted at events.
He would spend his time with his boys, but let his mind and eyes travel far from them; even the presences hiding in those halls that heâd usually mock or annoy or disregard, projecting his own insecurities onto them, dulled.
Jihyo was beautiful. Jihyo captured focus. And he called Jihyoâs name until he even muttered it when alone; she breathed it until he could only hear his own name in her voice.
But.
It wasnât love. Even today, he knows it never was.
Yet, even then, he could imagine this for a while. If he couldnât love her now, he thought, maybe he could love her some day. He couldnât tell, but he could imagine it. Who knew?Â
Then again, it seemed he would never find out, anyway.
Some days, some time later, Jungkook eventually started thinking how odd it was that Jihyo never wanted to go out. To tell somebody about them; would it be so bad?
He presumed it was because she didnât want others to know. He understood, truly; at an age where people would pressure one into obligations just when they saw others together, he didnât want them to rumour yet.
Then again, Jihyo and he were connected somehow; sometimes he thought that was enough, too. Deep under the sheets so often, sharing stories sometimes, and perhaps they werenât for the public to hear.
And there was something mysterious about them that nobody would understand, anyway. He couldnât wrap his finger around the mystical nature of the two of them, but he started to understand she had him good.
YetâŚ
Yet. Something was wrong with her. So entirely wrong when sheâd keep him hidden in rented rooms or in the dead dark of the night.
When sheâd refuse his offer to promenade through the park, be fully against his invitations on some days without a proper reason at all. Or, when sheâd skip events that she promised to attend, and then told him she hadnât been sick â just not in the mood.
And one day, he decided to ask.
A very futile intention; the urge to ask was quickly overshadowed by kisses too intense. He already wanted to see her again even before the evening was over, no matter what sheâd answer. He was already dreaming of her body, despite towering over it right now.
Would these dreams ever stop?
His nights were sleepless anyway, just like this approaching one. Hands on his own skin, today replaced by her, pumping and fondling. All over him when he climbed onto her and pushed in again.
He couldnât free himself of the itch she caused just yet; kept scratching. Then again, he was so clueless about who she was at this very moment. Fond of her, but confused, too.
Aware of how much he thought of her, but having no issues retorting things snarkily, like when she mumbled underneath him, âYou canât live without me,â and he effortlessly rose from her neck, swollen lips answering, âOh, I can.â
And he could. They were confusing in nature, but he knew that he could.
Because she was veiling something that he thought might distance her from him, so he started keeping himself mentally distanced either way. Even though it proved harder these days.
But the two of them were still something. They got along; there was humour in this, attraction and fire. And he felt heavenly inside her every damn time.
In the midst of it, he told her, âWe could try harder.â
Perhaps she misunderstood; perhaps she couldnât read his eyes and his tone yet, because she pulled him closer, deeper. He let her. Wouldnât voice these thoughts properly again until he dropped next to her and said, âI like spending time with you. And I want to try more.â
He didnât notice right away â her hesitation, her silence.
It took a second to even look at her; and when he did, he recognised the sudden guilt in her eyes instantly. Remorse, pain. Like heâd just broken something with his idea that sheâd kept whole. Only now, she couldnât save it anymore.
He didnât know what it was, so he wondered, âWhat is it?â
âIâŚâ
Then again, it wasnât hard to figure out anyway. He deduced, ââŚYou donât want it.â
âItâs⌠not that I donât want it.â
âI mean. Itâs alright, you see? We arenât this far, so if you want to reject this, I do understand. I will live.â
âI might have to reject it⌠you, Jungkook,â she confessed, and he had to admit that he wasnât overly enjoying what he was hearing, ânot because I want to, but itâsâŚâ
And the universe had cruel ways of interrupting. Always.
Because her words halted somewhere between him and her and then vanished into thin air. Cut by strong, arhythmic knocks at the door. The sudden interjection startled them, dropped the quiet hearts into the pit of their stomachs.
As the door worked on being unlocked, she whispered a tiny, anxious, âPlease⌠you might get hurt.â
And Jungkook understood; jumped off the bed, slipping into his trousers within seconds before dashing to the back. The wardrobe was empty, ideal to hide; itâs what he knew she wanted, for him to stay anonymous.
Jihyo, still bare, sat up on the bed, and Jungkook, in the dark with only a gap to observe the outside happenings, waited. Waited until the door opened. Until a man, more or less a stranger to him, only minimally familiar, stormed in with furious eyes.
He didnât stall a second before his anger ambushed her. Jungkookâs fingers tingled to crash the door of the wardrobe open; even from here, it was abundantly clear that the man struggled to not hurt her.
But right now, he relied on the fury in his tone; Jungkook assumed it was a brother or friend raging about her indecent behaviour. But it soon became all too obvious that he wasnât. Somebody of such a relationship doesnât snap like this.
No, Jungkook understood. Knew what the issue was when the man asked, âSo youâve started getting naked for others? Is that it now? Thatâs what you whore have been doing?â
For othersâŚ
She tried, âListen, Iââ
But he cut her off, âNo! I promised you everything. Why do you despise me so much? You couldnât wait for us to be wed, but needed to satisfy your needs elsewhere? Why do you despise me, huh?â
Jihyo didnât hear much of what he said, zeroing in on specific statements, and whispered, âYou do not give me everything. Not even close.â
Fuck.
If it wasnât clear already⌠Jungkookâs mind spun.
Jihyo was promised to somebody else and was using Jungkook with a purpose and intention, as a means of fulfilling whatever she needed to fulfil. And heâ he was the homewrecker, the third wheel, not her focus the way she was his focus.
Despite the mistakes heâd ever made, despite his damn flaws, he never wanted this.
What was he? A placeholder? Thrown aside the moment sheâd marry him? Why was it that Jungkookâs existence was regarded as something so low, stomped beneath peopleâs feet, like he was nothing at all?
Who knew? There wasnât even a second to think about it, to ask about it.
Priorities shifted, inquiries shoved away; when the man reached low, snatching a patch of her hair to pull her off the bed, sirens chimed in Jungkookâs head. It still mattered to him, not seeing her hurt; but his instincts were deep-rooted.
Nobody, including Jihyo, should have to experience this.
So Jungkook pushed the door open, met with a gasp, surprise and wrath. The man didnât need to ask who he was or what he was doing here; he knew immediately, more than cognisant of the wretched situation.
Jungkook was ready to throw some insult onto him, words already on his lips, arms reaching out to defend her. But he didnât need to; the guy had already let her go, taking a swing within a second before his fist landed on Jungkookâs jaw.
It couldâve been worse; he couldâve broken it. Jungkook knew right away that the damage wasnât as terrible as it had the potential to be.
But his tongue still felt warm, tasted metallic. He took a deep breath through his nose, dizzy for a moment, still sane enough to hear the stranger say, âYou can have the slut.â
There was another blob of disgust landing on Jungkookâs face; no doubt that the man bid him farewell with one last literal spit on Jungkookâs cheek. Then, the door fell into its lock, and it got quiet again.
Or⌠not quite.
Jungkook lacked words; there was nothing to say anyway. He was the culprit after all.
Worried hands settled on his body; he didnât notice how much heâd sunk to the ground, one knee hitting the floor. But when the exploring fingers touched his waist, up to his armpits and his elbows, he stood tall again.
She was trying to lift him. To check for wounds, despite the clear drops of scarlet red he was leaving on this rented roomâs floor. Eyes shutting for a second, he slapped the concerned palm off his arm, dodging it when she came back with a quiet, âJungkookâŚâ
âShut up.â
âPlease listenââ
âListen to fucking what? YouâreâŚâ
There was no ending to the sentence. He didnât know what she was. A fraud, maybe. But he didnât have it in him to insult her somehow; perhaps because she, too, was already in enough pain as it was.
When his eyes opened, they glared. To his feet, to the side, into her wet gaze. She was nearly hiccuping, but he couldnât get himself to give into the empathy entirely; the anger simmered in the pit of his stomach, threatened to come to a full boil.
Yet, he registered when she said, âHe doesnât treat me well, heâ heâs controlling. And emotionally abusive, heâ please,â she grabbed his hand, but he pulled out of her grip, âI canât marry him, not ifâ not if Iâm scared he might raise his hand at me.â
âThen donât fucking marry him. You have this choice,â Jungkook said, spitting into the corner; the colour was disgusting. âControlling and abusive, however? You sound perfect for him.â
âI donât⌠I canât. I canât stay with him, but Iâ I could stay with you. I would.â
Jungkook scoffed. She had to be joking. Undoubtedly; there was nothing in him capable of believing she meant this. Not when sheâd refused just this idea mere minutes ago.
He shook his head; he wouldnât have any of this. Even if she left this man⌠even thenâŚ
He couldnât do this because she made him do something so easily that he abhorred. Heâd seen the love between his father and his mother before, and then witnessed the hatred between her and his uncle.
After all these years of affliction, he knew the difference between love and despise.
Knew where affection could grow, where it would wilt. Where itâd be replaced with hostility.
She wasnât made for him; he wasnât in the mindset for her. And he was wrong after all; he didnât love her and he never could have.
âPlease, donât go,â she begged as he picked up his clothes, wiping his mouth on the bed sheet, ready to leave. âPlease, Iââ
She followed him all the way to the door; Jungkook resisted each push and pull, charging towards the exit with resolution. And when she blocked the door for too long, sobbing onto her body, he fletched his teeth, sharpened his jaw, clasped her wrist before he turned her around.
Arm pinned to her back, cheek pressing into the door, she kept crying, and then, finally, sighed. She gulped; then lowered her face, forehead to the cold of the wood, and too courageously as always pleaded, âBe with me one last time. Just⌠just once.â
And her tone⌠her voice⌠her curling fingersâŚ
They tempted him. Something about this, something about her tugged him in again, like an invisible force. And for the tiniest moment, he hated himself for thinking this way. But deep inside he knew the truth.
That he still craved her. Still wanted to feel her once more. Still hungered to bury himself in deep, leaving scars and marks as if to punish her just once. ButâŚ
But he remembered. Sheâd turned him into somebody he wasnât. So he couldnât. Heâd carry the regret to his grave.
So he let her go, using the moment of weakness, shoving her away slightly â she let him. She understood to give up. And he, with a coat over his shoulder, left.
A hand over the bleeding wound, and the other over his injured mouth.
If he wakes up now, you wonât be able to take it.
It was already difficult, breathing through every second of the rest of the day. Overthinking, but never quite processing the information you received. From the very moment you woke up to the story Jungkook narrated and everything that followed, the seconds have been hell.
Everything⌠everythingâ
The remaining conversations. With her, with the village bartender he expected. You donât know how he survived any of it, functioned at all; using his brain at full capacity, reading through papers when you were sure the letters were blurring in front of his very eyes.
And how he looked at you after he was done and returned to you, reaching for your limp handâŚ
The hurt was prominent, your heart still reluctant, but you let him; what good would it have done to send him away? He kept coming back. Sat there for an hour until you told him to tend to his guest, to discuss whatever he needed to.
Truth was, you didnât want him to go⌠but you didnât want him near, either.
Your mind kept circling around a hundred and thousands of things. The woman sitting downstairs, fiddling and nervous, the child still next to her. Possibly bored. Sheâs aware of her past as much as you are, of the role she played. Of the hurt she caused.
The more you think about it, the more it pains. The more it seems like a tragedy, like an anti-fairytale. Fabricated.
So unreal.
Itâs as though thinking it senseless could make it less real. Youâre married to him now, but you still feel small, shrinking, insecure and hurt and unable to make any of this coherent.
You needed silence today. You wanted your mind to divert, conjure different, more pleasant thoughts, memories of better times. But this proved worse; so somehow, you ended up overthinking the situation to death.
You donât want the children to wake up again. Hana is fast asleep, Jaehyuk dozing. It was Jaehoonâs subtle whimpering that finally shifted your attention twenty minutes ago; your arms were too weightless to carry him, but you did, swayed him, blended out your brain with his sounds.
By now, heâs already drooling over you again. You hope he stays just like this; hope Jaehyuk doesnât notice the empty side of their crib.Â
Thereâs something about this, the twin intuition. You had heard about it before, but it is truly fascinating, the way they communicate. Youâre still baffled that Jaehyuk stayed as unmoving as he did when you pulled his brother towards you, comforting yourself with his warmth.
But you have to admitâŚ
Youâre exhausted. More so mentally than physically. Your body yearns to drop. The up and down pacing only drains you further.
You should set him into his crib again. Heâs fast asleep anyway; everybody is. Just you arenât. And your husband isnât.
In fact, heâs not even in this room with you. Heart palpitating and chest paining, youâve been waiting. He slipped in and out of the rooms you were in for hours, and you kept sending him away, sickened by the apologies, not even certain what exactly he was apogising for.
For having a child? For once tending to secret meetings with a woman you donât know, ambiguous about what he felt for her? You donât know.
AndâŚ
Honestly â your heart isnât splintering because he made a mistake, really, did he? You and him were nothing back then. No. Youâre fractured because of your own damn expectations. And because you wanted life to lead somewhere else.
You didnât want somebody to become such a part of your love and marriage like this.
You sigh to breathe out the ache, deep from your stomach, hoping itâll lighten the load. But it doesnât really. Not even Jaehoonâs little hand over your chest does, his head on your shoulder, the scent of his baby hair.
And once the door to the bedchamber creaks open, you donât feel relieved, either. Your heart stirs more, if anything. Scared your son might hear or notice, you hurry to put him down again, draping a blanket over his little body before you shut your silken robe.
Jungkook appears as if heâs lived a dozen lives in a day. His pupils have shrunk, shoulders low, hair as uncombed as in the morning. He didnât bother; as little as you. He halts when he sees you standing in the middle of the room, surprised about the random spot you chose.
Endless affection flashes across his face, transparent yearning, as though he hasnât seen you in days. Within a moment, the expression calms a little, and he pulls himself together enough to ask, âYou are still awake, darling?â
You hold yourself tight, as if binding your body together. Clearing your throat, you say, âItâs⌠I donât know if I will be able to sleep tonight.â
ââŚMe neither.â
âWhat happened?â
You gesture to the ground, referring to the parlour. Sheâs probably not even there anymore. She was all day; and she journeyed. She must be tired.
Jungkook explains, as if reading your mind, âJihyo⌠sheâs in one of the guest rooms.â You nod. He cards through his hair, continuing, âShe said the guy she was supposed to marry never told anyone what had happened that night⌠Iâ I donât know why. He never came back at all, but I figured that bit. She didnât want him to, and I told her he shouldnât have either way.â
He sighs; so do you. Feelings or not, you guess Jungkook has never been a bad person. It still feels odd. He then says, âAnd then she was abandoned by her family when they learned of her pregnancy and she wouldnât tell anybody who the father wasâŚâ
Of course not. Somewhere, she must have cared.
âThey sent her to some faraway aunt who was apparently a tyrant⌠and she ran away when her boy was a year old.â
Your dropped chin lifts, an immediate response forming in your mind. Your boy. Your boy, too. But you donât spill it. In truth, you donât even need to. As if written all over your face in big, bold letters, Jungkook sees right through you.
He halts, gives himself a moment to be sure itâs what youâre stuck on, and then tells you, ââŚI know but⌠I have no connection to him. She does. I have none at all.â
âShe does, and now sheâs here⌠actually hereâŚâ
âSheâs here because it was nearly impossible to survive for her,â he insists, the tone of defence sharp and clear, âbut somehow she still did. Itâs gotten more difficult now, however, andââ Heâs struggling more now; while some words pour out, others are whispered. Like, âAs the father of her child⌠she says it is both our responsibility to ensure he is well. ButâŚâ
As the father of her child, as the parents of their child.
Heâs not wrong; and you guess that if it wasnât happening in your own household, youâd be much more lenient about this. Youâd be nodding along, agreeing that a father should be present, that a child deserves it.
Youâve been part of an orphanage filled with lonely kids for too long to think otherwise.
But it surely is different in moments like these. You feel like a hypocrite.
âBut?â you prod.
âShe understands if I say no, too. I have my own family now.â
YeahâŚ
Did she need to tell him that? Did he know by himself; are these her or his words? You wonderâŚ
âYou say she always struggled,â you draw back to again, âwhy did she never reach out when she knew she was with child already?â
He rubs his eyes. Tired, his body somewhat more worn out than ever. Barely looks active; the shoulders are in an entirely new position. Or no⌠not new. Youâve seen it before â itâs just been years now.
âShe thought I wouldnât bother,â he says, âshe thought⌠Iâd abandoned her once and for all. Which I reckon I did.â
âAndâŚâ Youâre scared to ask. You swallow. âWould you have aided her? If youâd known.â
He quietens. Youâre not too fond of the hesitation loudening the silence. You know heâs thinking, eyes unfocused, imagining the scenario you narrated without probably really wanting to. You brought this to yourself, so youâll need to be patient.
And you are, until he finally concludes, âI would have⌠Iâ I would have felt like I owed this to my child. I canâtâ sweetheart, itâs not my nature, please understand. I wouldnât leave a woman alone with this if I was anyhow part of it andââ
âAnd⌠If youâd known⌠we wouldnât even have happened, right?â
Jungkook shakes his head again, the movements even lazier now. Youâre afraid he might drop and faint. But he breathes in, then out, uprights himself, âIt doesnât matter what would have or could have happened. I did approach you and I did fall in love with you and we did happen. Isnât⌠isnât that enough?â
You blink; then blink more. A shaky breath escapes your lips to keep your voice as steady as doable. âYes⌠I assumeâŚâ
Another pause. More stalling until the thoughts previously forming in your head become less of a tangled, messy garn and get clearer. You just do not know how to voice them; to keep the man who brought stars down to the ground to you whole.
You donât want to hurt him. But you donât understand how to handle the next few days any other way.
But you donât say it yet. You wait. Listen as he begs, âPlease tell me⌠tell me what youâre thinking. I donât know what to do.â
You lie, âI donât know, either, Jungkook.â
His strong hands get ahold of tufts of his hair again, butchering his mane more. The gesture isnât aggressive, but he still looks so out of his goddamn mind. Desperately, he steps closer, breathing, âYou know that I love you, yes?â
âŚYouâve seen needles at your seamstressâ place before. They always strike you as effective, professional. Sharp. The sting you feel reminds you of when her needle digs into fabric. Perhaps worse.
Perhaps itâll turn into a sword in a moment.
âOnly you,â he adds, but then halts, a shake of his head correcting himself before he tries again, âno. Only you and them.â His eyes briefly dart to the crib, a reminder to lower his voice, even though the shudder makes it hard. âI havenât thought about her in yeaââ
NoâŚ
âYou havenât thought about her once?â you interrupt. Itâs one of the things your derailing mind tried to convince you of today. That she never really disappeared. âThe woman you were involved with like this⌠you never ever thought of her or regarded her important enough to tell me about her? To think about her?â
And now heâs confused. Why do you keep asking questions? Youâre your own worst enemy, really. Then again, how does one stop this toxic curiosity from overflowing in a moment like this?
âI donât know,â he admits. Not a needle anymore⌠âShe might have crossed my mind as somebody who once existed in my life. Not in a romantic manner. Nor in a yearning manner. I did not miss her, you see?â
He moves closer, hands lifting. You only now see how pale he is, his skin so close, eyes nearly lifeless, but not quite. Theyâre still filled with so much emotion and pain as he continues, âAnd I certainly did not care enough to prioritise her over you anyhow.â
Palms cradle your face. Usually so warm and comforting, theyâre icy today, as if his blood has frozen in his veins. And he sounds so utterly dehydrated when he says, âShe was never important enough, noâŚâ
âIâ I see.â
He waits. His breath falls on your face before he runs his tongue between his lips nervously. His waterline is damp, but holding back. You wonder when he last ate, when he last drank.
You guess heâs not as concerned about himself when he requests, âTell me what you are thinking.â
A lot. Too much to condense into one single thought. But you still pick out one of the million swirling around and throw it out, âI am wondering⌠about what you will do now. I will assume you will help.â
You see how much he hates to admit it; you nearly take it back before he, however, tells you again, âI may have to.â
âAnd⌠if you do. What will it look like? Will youâ I do not know. Will you meet her regularly, send her money, see the child? Build a bond? Have⌠have two families on either side?â
âI d-donât think it will be like this, Iââ
âHow will it be then?â
His hands drop. He shuts his eyes, but opens them again a minute later. âI will provide⌠I might get to know him. But I do not plan on making them an integral, main part of my life. I donât want this to come between us or have the children think wrong of me, and⌠youâre my priority.â
You knowâŚ
As the wife of somebody like Jungkook, you have seen the hardships that come with a traumatised mind. One that so deeply fears he will step into his familyâs shoes, mimicking the misery he once experienced.
Heâs been afraid of passing on generational trauma for years, and he battled the fear⌠you know he doesnât want to start at zero. You donât want it either. And you genuinely do not perceive him as a bad father; quite the opposite.
Jeon Jungkook gives his all. He loves with his all. He worships with his all.
But you still think this needs time and patience.
So you confess, âI believe you⌠I do. I just. I think this will change things. I cannot stop thinking about you moving back and forth, nurturing two families, and yes, I am selfish, but⌠I always assumed I was the only one.â
Not before. Not long ago. But now.
You wouldâve been content with somebody like her being out there and never finding out about it. For the very first time in your life, youâre selfish, and it hurts, it burns, and you loathe that you cannot turn it off.
âI did, as wellâŚâ he confirms. âBut youâre the only one that matters.â
âWhat about your son? Do you have it in you to not care?â
âHeâs a child I never spoke to!â he argues, voice rising by an octave. âI just⌠fuck, I do not know. Baby, I⌠I donât want to be a pendulum. Iâm not swinging between two spaces⌠I will never perceive anyone as more important than you.â
âI see.â
Pause. Then, ââŚPlease look at me.â
You feel another clump rise to your throat. Itâs more dense this time, inevitable, and it affects your speech. Accompanied by something lifting to your head and making it heavier. You tell him, âI can't.â
ââŚWhy?â
âI just canât.â
âYou caââ He shifts, eager to bring you back to him; youâre already miles away and he knows. âBaby⌠Do you still love me?â
You could scoff. But you donât; instead, you feel the liquid starting to pour. Like the rain these days, less comforting now, it drops out of your eyes. You somehow very well expected it, but the amount of the drops still surprises you.
Like a grey sky indicating a gloomy day, yet not a reliable preparation for a downpour.
Your inhale is sharp, cuts the air, and your eyebrows painfully furrow when the tears collect. You answer, âOf course I love you, Iâ Fuck, of course I do. Itâs why this hurts so much!â
âI⌠I know.â
His gaze is similarly wet, suddenly an ocean, but he blinks the despair away before he crushes you in a hug. Jungkook is never afraid to cry, but restraining himself is something heâs practised for the kids⌠and even for you, it seems.
Shit, butâ youâve told him so many times. So many times to not hold back for you. You donât either. You donât either, right?
âI know,â he repeats, âIâ I donât know why these things happen, Iâmââ
You shake your head against his chest, sogging his clothes as you mumble, âI canât blame you, can I? It was your past, yes, but I wasnât part of it, and⌠itâs still so much.â
âFor me, too⌠for me as well, darlingââ
âI justâ I think I need distance, Jungkook.â
WaitâŚÂ
Whaâ
Thatâs when the world stops spinning, frozen like his blood. The heart he has so gently guarded so far detaches from the rest of what lies beneath his ribs, and jumps into his throat, pounds in his ears.
The profound hope that he misheard you is needless, he already knows. Heâs been hyper aware of your every movement and word today; he knows what you said and he knows heâll have to let you. ButâŚ
ââŚWhat?â
The decision still leaves him stranded on an island. Away from this house and you and his children. Desolated, he as its lone habitant. And the image is surreal.
âI need to go away,â you elaborate again, digging deeper into the wound. Can he rewind the morning? No. You add, âJust until you have this sorted out with her and itâs done, andââ
âI have,â he carefully voices, convinced, so, so convinced, âthere is nothing more to say.â
But youâre not with him just yet; you argue, âBut she should stay for a little, shouldnât she? I⌠I am not too fond of the scenario, but from an empathetic perspective, you should know about your son. Be in the loopâŚâ
Yes, you do hate the idea. Yes, it contradicts your distaste for the image of him walking to and fro between families, providing and keeping her in his life. But, after all is said and done, his son will still be his son.
And you are only heartbroken, not heartless.
âI justâŚâ you continue, gulping. âI canât be here while she is. And I donât want you to send her away already, either. Her journey seems to have been long and⌠sheâs just trying to live.â
âWhere⌠where do you want to go?â
âHome.â
The resolute tone you decide on hurts. Not because heâs against your family or your place back in the city, but because you seem to have thought it out already. That you want to leave. That you want to be away from him.
The woman that latches onto him the moment he crawls into bed after work; from the man who clutches your body throughout the night, wakes up delirious from your scent.
It stings. It burns.
âJust for a little,â you say, as if to cure the injury. âI⌠I need to be away.â
Jungkookâs throat is knotted up and dry. He almost doesnât dare to ask, but he knows heâll keep wondering when youâre gone. So he spits, âAnd then?â
âAnd then⌠I will see.â
Doesnât matter anyway. He guesses that the wondering part wonât change, no matter what he inquires, no matter what you respond.
ââŚWhy does this sound like a possible goodbye?â
He might faint. He doesnât know how long heâll have to be awake without you. Doesnât know whatâll follow this disaster. Doesnât know anything. Most of his life, heâs been haunted by this uncertainty, and he hates the return of it.
And youâre not saying anything; the moment gets worse as you close your eyes for a bit, staring down, unable to answer because you probably donât know, either.
ButâŚ
âPlease say something,â he urges, abandoning questions and pleas, diving straight into statements as if this could make them definitely true, âyou⌠you will come back. You wonât leave after this.â
Thereâs agitation in your voice, merged with desperation when you speak again, âJungkook, I can only think so far right nowââ
âNo, pleaseâŚâ
âWhat do you mean, plââ
âI canât lose you, no matter what.â
âBut right now, I canât take this either, Jungkook!â you snap. Perhaps itâs his big eyes throwing you off guard or the unknown future or the fresh hurt. Something in you breaks as your voice starts to vibrate, eyes watery. âI donât want to beâ another. And I canât fully make you abandon them either, and⌠I still donât know how to live with such a change andââ
And. And. And.
The list goes on. Thatâs the problem. Itâs an overwhelming mess, a never ending string of thoughts.Â
As the light in your eyes dims, usually so blindingly bright on other days, Jungkookâs eyes overflow. First a single drop of a tear, then half a dozen. He blinks them away, but suddenly thereâs a river across his cheek, collecting to a sea at the chin.
And you look similar.
Shattered like glass. Your broken pieces are tiny; they resemble dust. God, albeit without a single intention, Jungkook has hurt the wrong person.
Desperation at the front of his tongue, he doesnât know what to say. Nothing more to do but to revert back to pathetic beggingâ
âPlease⌠donât go.â His voice quivers, the sigh even shakier; his soft hands, the ones that held you just last night, rub his face in anger towards himself. âItâs who I used to be⌠I didnât know.â
âYes, itâs what used to happen, bâbut it doesnât hurt any less, fuck, andâŚâ Breathing is as hard as speaking. Your tears run again when you add, âAnd what if there are more? What if more of them come knocking at our door and we donât know yet?â
His chest is rising high, falling low. Lower lip never still. You know panic is growing beneath his chest, and you want to wrap your arms around him, keep his pure heart from breaking. But what can you do?
Yours is splitting, too.
Worse when all he whispers again is, âPlease donât go.â
Itâs a hopeless attempt. You know; you hear it. Heâs still trying but heâs not truly expecting you to change what you decided on. Yet, you ask, âPlease understand.â
Heâs still not moving; but you think he understands indeed. Because he nods. Doesnât look at you anymore. The sniffles are familiar, painful as he questions, âWhat about the children?â
You feared this question. The delivery of it proves harder than you thought; your tongue nearly gets tied, âI⌠I will leave the twins here. Travelling might be difficult with both of them when I am alone.â You look to the wall; to the little beds on the other side of the room. âCan I take Hana with me?â
You know itâs killing him as much as it is messing with you. You know what it means when he breathes in, but doesnât argue with you as he nods again. Jeon Jungkook loves you; he loves you to every end of the universe.
And youâll love Jeon Jungkook for the rest of your life, too, despite it all.
But this is needed.
He asks, âHow long will you be away?â
âI donât knowâŚâ you admit. âHopefully not long.â
âI see.â
âI am sorry.â
All grand arguments end in silence or insults or apologies. There are no more words to utter. Jungkook is at a loss for hope, at the far end of a tunnel. If he could still convince you, he would; but your decision sits.
So all he manages isâ
âI am, too.â
Thereâs a nod. Your tired eyes. You looking to the side, then to the bed, approaching it a moment later with a body falling so weightlessly. When he joins minutes later, youâre turned to the side, and he watches the back of your head, the mane falling, urging to touch it just a little.
But he doesnât.
Instead, he turns away, too.Â
Until you fall asleep and for the rest of the night, you donât feel a touch on you as you do on other days; but relying on your remaining senses, you do hear the sniffle. Do register the movements next to you.
One more time for a little, approaching while.
The place is empty when Jungkook wakes up. Heâs woken up three days in a row now, and heâs never wanted to â every damn time, the place would be empty.
And he canât breathe.
Ever since she stepped over the threshold and re-entered his life and you chose the sheer opposite, he hasnât drawn a proper breath. This isnât how things should be. Theyâre switched up, plainly wrong.
The room is empty; it has been this vacant before, but the void is yawning now, tormenting. Feels like it might never end.
A couple sunrises ago, you left with a lasting, gnawing touch. Before you stepped down the porch, your palm lay in his for a minute; despite the hurt, you still seemed to want to leave remnants of what he means to you.
Your hand was warm in his; and your eyes, albeit filled with some sort of cold distance, still carried some of the warmth, too, your gaze glassy. You were pulling yourself together so well. For him, yourself, the confused child clinging to you.
Hana thought you were visiting the grandparents out of nostalgic longing. She thought sheâd be away from him for a fleeting moment. Sheâs too young to understand the passing of time, after all.
So she didnât complain, but she looked dissatisfied. Unwilling to embark on this little vacation. Pouted at her father, but listened to her mother.
For her, he was keeping himself whole, too â but when your fingers slipped away from his, the heat still lingered. Like a red scald, as if heâd held his palm into a flame. Perhaps thatâs what set him off.
Perhaps just as much as when the hole between your bodies widened bit by bit, and you disappeared in the distance after the carriage had engulfed you. The impulse to run after you grew consistently and rapidly, but his feet were cemented to the spot, legs stiff.
When the carriage turned, however, and only then, they carried him down. There was a faint sound in the background, like the whispering breeze of autumn, and Jungkook barely understood what it was until he realised his lips were moving.
It was him, not the wind.
Him, in a quick downward spiral, bedazzled by the lunacy and the tears obscuring the world; repeating something he knew you were already too far away to hear. You wouldnât register any of it anymore; he hoped youâd feel it somehow.
âPlease, donât leave,â it was, wasnât it? A desperate, âWhy would you leave?â
The echoes in the mansion were suddenly much more prominent. Not just of his steps; his own voice in his head had an echo, too, but it was a lot louder, pure torture. Pressed against his ears, as if he was falling from the clouds and into burning hell.
The sounds were blocked by nothing but the wind.
This has been feeling neverending ever since. So infinite.
And maybe itâs this very horrendous fear that disables his lungs; that he might end up like this, without your touch, without your smile, without the future he drew in his mind every single day. It always, always contained you.
He loves you; heâs told you so many times, but itâs never been this apparent. And itâs drying him out, the goddamn loneliness. Blocking his throat. Shit, this place he settled on for you and his family, to give you the best life possible â its vast size is backfiring.
Becauseâ
Fuck. Fuck. What is a spacious room good for if he canât fucking breathe?
There isnât anybody in here to hear him panting, surviving; he forbid it. But the loneliness dawns on him again, and he chants with tears dropping on the ground, not making any particular sense, over and over again, âDonât leave. Please. Please donât leaveââ
As if his brain got stuck here the moment you left, playing the pleas on loop to drive him insane. His own brain is driving him insane. The betrayal is beyond belief.
Heâs losing his mind; heâs well aware of this. Pondering, thinking whether the empty rooms in this mansion compete with the vacancy in his mind. Maybe not.
Because the mental rooms are plenty; his hand trembles to push down any handle on his way. Thereâs this long corridor, leading to these rooms, and whenever he does find the courage to open one, he finds himself in a void.
And he opens them every day, all the time. When heâs asleep. When heâs eating. When heâs wandering around, downing yet another bottle. Always hoping there are scenarios where youâre still with him, in his arms, leaving the pain behind to steer towards the same eternal love youâd been targeting before you left.
But he comes out hopeless each time. And itâs cruel, how vast the corridor is. As if his mind is deceiving him, making him believe thereâs a future somewhere that youâre in⌠but your absence says differently.
He understands; the rooms in the mansion are empty because youâre physically gone, but the ones in his mind inhabit only him because the joyful hopes faded the moment you stepped into the carriage.
Now theyâre filled with darkness and fear. What if you donât come back? What if you do, only to deliver words he doesnât want to hear, and then to depart again?
He hears nothing but his own voice in those rooms, and it keeps convincing him of his own barely-there worth, and that he always fucks up and that people leave and that they stay away. Convincing him that this is it.
This is how his life was supposed to go. To lift him up, but then to throw him into purgatory again because somehow, this is what he deserves. Karmic payback.
The times he ever stops hearing these accusations and destructive statements is when other sounds interrupt them. Which has been rare, since heâs avoided conversations and social touch, except for when it was necessary and the village demanded it.
Luckily, this hasnât been the case, and heâs been able to wither in peace.
There are still exceptions. He still has his children. He remembers; he tries. But his body is frail. Attempts its best to keep him a good father, like now.
Now, when it reacts to the incoherent call. Itâs a quiet cry, a sign of waking up; Jungkook canât remember arriving in his bedroom, but he knows exactly heâs here when he hears the sound.
Ah⌠right. He told the maid to get them to sleep and then bring them to their crib only ten minutes ago. He did, right? Thereâs been plenty his imagination has been conjuring, but the conversation feels real.
Even in a state like this, he doesnât think heâd ever leave his children alone in this room, if he could prevent it. Sometimes, staff is around. Sometimes, he is. Sometimes, you are.
Were.
Right. Right. You might not return. But then again, you will, wonât you?
You love your children as much as he does; youâve given all of you to the boys as much as you did to him and Hana. They have captured possibly bigger pieces of your heart than he has. You will return, even if just for them.
And thenâŚ
What if you take them with you? Or, what if you leave them here? What if, either way, he has to live a life without you?
These little pieces of him would remind him of you, too. Theyâre part of you, theyâre half of you â but heâd see the entirety of you in them. He does even now as he walks over, watching Jaehyuk stir and Jaehoon weeping.
He hasnât woken up his brother, but he surely has shot an intense ache into Jungkookâs chest.
Looks like you when you cry. Is this odd? Is it even possible, comparing such round, young features to your more defined ones? He doesnât know, but he canât unsee it either way.
And his hands burn and pain, his eyes on fire when he lifts him up, whispering Jaehoonâs name with a shush. Thereâs a change in behaviour immediately, but itâs not enough. The sobbing turns into quieter cries when he sees his father, butâŚ
Thereâs something else Jungkook interprets.
Your scent is still everywhere. And for those few days, their way of feeding has been slightly different, too. Theyâre probably noticing the sudden shift. And yes, Jungkook offers comfort, but your absence lingers, and they understand it as well as he does.
âIâm hereâŚâ Jungkook whispers, standing in the middle of the room. For a second, Jaehoon grips the strings of his fatherâs white cotton shirt, but then his lips arch downwards again. âI know. But I am here, you see?â
As Jaehoonâs sorrow doesnât lessen, Jungkook sniffles, too, lifting his head for a moment to prevent the tears from falling onto his boy. He takes a couple steps back until he plops back on the bed. Offers a hand to Jaehoon who wraps his tiny fingers around one of Jungkookâs.
Jungkook shakes his head, his sigh tired, and then opts for a nod instead as he repeats, âI know. I donât think itâs enough either, me being here.â He gulps. âAnd her being away.â
His throat clogs up. He clears it, the tremble coming back to his lower lip as he asks in his sonâs direction, âYou miss Mama, donât you?â
And as if aware, Jaehoon cries harder again, winding in Jungkookâs arms. He doesnât know what to do to calm the tantrum, doesnât know how you do what you do that heâs not able to do. He doesnât think heâs failed as a father. He doesnât think of himself as incompetent.
But heâs helpless without you. The two of you operated as a unit so far, as one big part of this universe. With half of it gone, he feels like heâs lacking half a brain, not quite functioning.
So he adds, âI do, too. Believe me, I miss her so much, tooâŚâ Ongoing crying. âI know.â Ongoing crying from both sides. The adult and the child, hurting the same. âI am sorry, sweetheart.â
And heâs not sure who heâs saying it to. To Jaehoon; to Jaehyuk. To Hana. To you.
To the hurting child he used to be, and the longing young adult that craved for too much. Heâs apologising to everyone and over all the mistakes heâs made, all the regrets he carries with him.
And as he does, heâs not certain when his cries overshadow the ones of his son, or when the latterâs finally stop, only Jungkookâs misery still sounding. He doesnât know how to stop this from hurting and how to nurse two children in a room without you, because youâre a piece of thisâ
Youâre a piece of the picture. With you ripped out of it⌠isnât it too lonely?
It is. God. God, the void swallows him whole.
And he doesnât know what to do. Doesnât know what to say. Doesnât know where to go and how to bring you back; if he ran to your city now, where the two of you grew and loved, would you appreciate it or hate him more?
WaitâŚ
Do youâŚ
Hate him?
He doesnât know. How could he, sitting here, breaking down, mind all empty yet filled. Cruel. This is cruel.
So cruel how he forwards his mood to his children the way he learned never to do. How he canât breathe, canât think. How his words lose their meaning after a while, yet stay a mantra, still true but so out of your reach.
Iâm sorry.
I messed up.
Iâm sorry.
Please come back.
Your seamstress is as clueless as you'd like to be.
It's probably part of her occupation, the cheerful, sweet, chatty nature, or perhaps, she's in that line because of that very characteristic of her. She's always been like this, so you shouldn't have expected anything different today.
It isn't as though the world joins you in your grief just because you're feeling it. Earth keeps moving.
Coming back home alone was hard. Hana was asleep most of the time, but the moment she woke, she sought his presence profusely.
You wonder if she noticed why he kissed her goodbye so often and told her he loved her a dozen times and gulped down the first hints of yearning with a clogged throat and damp eyes.
She probably doesn't know. His adoration was quieter than hers â because she wailed when he didn't come home, hated the surroundings she'd already seen before but forgotten.
Her father isn't around and she's angry about it.
Maybe you should've left her there. She isnât as connected to you as she is to him, and while the twins might notice your absence, they won't quite make sense of it yet.
And you, you're stuck in this absolute consciousness that comes with adulthood, aware of everything.
Aware of where you are, who you're with, who is missing. Aware of how you won't be able to weep in your sister's arms forever; so aware that having beautiful dresses sewn won't bring you permanent satisfaction.
But everytime you think back to the last days, you break. The picture of him home alone, theories about what he might be doing, how he might be coping. Whether he's crying like you, fallen like you, feeling incomplete because he's in those rooms with only half of him.
That's how you've been feeling. You're a fraction of yourself.
After three days of solitude, Hana has learned to settle on pouting. Itâs odd, the contrast between her and the town, always the same. The latter is as alive as you knew it. And Seung, the seamstress you used to frequent, is still the same amazing woman, too.
Grown, a little older, but the sheer opposite of a quiet Suhana, of a dejected you.
Your sister is holding Hanaâs hand, the other tiny fingers busy with the fabric of the dark yellow dress. Youâre in a cursory surface conversation with Seung, trying to be polite despite everything, asking how sheâs doing, how her husband has been.
She got married years before you did, and she was always incredibly vocal about her relationship with her spouse. Theyâve been a key and a lock; sheâs spread hope for love amongst many other girls before.
You were one of them. And the hope bloomed, even when you were met with hurdles and thought youâd end in misery.
In all honesty, you truly thought you were an exception to the many rocky marriages. Sure, you never assumed yours would end up a constant fairytale; Jungkook and you have your days, too.
You just⌠held onto hope, more so when you fell for him, and you never ever thought youâd experience such a low.
Seung still tires of babbling about her husband soon; she enjoys detailing her fabulous life, but she never makes the entire talk about solely herself. So you expect it when you soon hear a question back, âLord Jeon has also always been such a gentleman, too, though. I enjoy his company thoroughly. Is he not with you today?â
You barely manage the lazy shake of your head, but you smile to cloak the hurt covering your heart, flooding your insides. The agony is always searing; you feel it everywhere, as though a torch lit you on fire. Every damn mention of his name makes your body sink.
In this town, the people have gathered that heâs a fragment of you, that heâs right wherever you are. But not today. Today, heâs with somebody else entirely; it enrages you, and yet also reminds you of how much you miss him every sickening moment of the endless day.
But you still act as though the praise towards the wonderful man you know doesnât drag another knife across your heart. You suppress your tears and nod, agree with her.
Of course you do. You enjoy his company, too. Youâre not oblivious to your husbandâs charm; heâs the heart of every conversation. The poetry in every novel after all.
âHe did not join me this time,â you answer, smiling away the seconds to hide the difficulties in your home. Hana sighs, as though sheâs understood that something went awry; as if she doesnât believe it when you say, âBut perhaps next time!â
Perhaps. Hopefully.Â
Your sister brushes the topic off with a wave, focusing on the task on hand. You welcome the diverging topic, just in time for the finishing touches on the dresses you ordered. Seung asks you to slip into them for a final inspection.
The first one is a light purple gown; you do not have a clue where you might wear it, but you enjoy the feel of it. Your sister nods in approval, compliments, âThis colour suits you well. You havenât worn it in so long.â
âI have. I wear it a lot back at home,â you say, remembering a similar shade in your mansion, unaware of where your thoughts are heading until you say, âJungkook got me a gown in this colour once.â
She pauses for a moment. Seung fumbles at the hem of the dress, busy making it and you pretty; but your sister notices, sighs for a second before she responds, âHe has a good eye, then.â
âYes⌠he does.â
He likes you in almost every colour, though. Heâs baptised you with the name of the rainbow many times before. Thinks every hue brings out something different in you; and that you lend it some additional meaning. Your aura and your energy mix the colours in a palette.
âTo something new; to something special.â
You nearly whimper when his voice returns in your head. Despite the circumstances, all you ever remember it in is in joy. When his words are followed by a chuckle and dimples. When the bangs, not cut recently, fall into his eyes, like curtains.
You donât think of the shaky goodbye days ago⌠rather, you recall the moments before the world fell apart, drenched in sweetness and grace and warmth.
It becomes difficult to stand here, to let Seung fondle with the fabric. To listen to your sisterâs praises and watch Hanaâs feet dangle off her seat, hitting the leg of the chair with puffy cheeks and a jutting lower lip.
The view is already too much, and you close your eyes, blending it out. Which proves hard when your husband is mentioned over and over again; of course he is. Two halves of a soul⌠of course he is.
Itâs been like this at each visit, so nobody would expect things to change this time.
And every damn time his name falls, Hana looks up. Big eyes, akin to a doe, personifying hope and love and yearning. If⌠if there was a way to contact him and let her talk to him for only a minute, you wouldnât hesitate.
In fact, leaving her there with him couldâve been an option. But you need some comfort, too, donât you? And he might not be in the proper state to take care of anyone right now. You intensely hope he is looking after himself.
But she keeps sulking. Despising the distance as much as you fear it, asking over and over again, and your dam only breaks and overflows when you step down the podium, asking, âDo you like this?â
And she, uncaring, shrugs, asking, âCan we go back to Daddy?â
You take a deep breath. Your skin tingles, a wave of discomfort filling you head to toe. Head heavy, you yet again register the change in your throat and voice, holding back as you try to pacify her, âSoon, darling. Weâre just visiting aunty and the grandparents for a little, remember?â
She does, but it doesnât help. Somehow, it makes her pout harder. Yesterday, she was crying; now, sheâs handling the bad mood differently. Maybe this is worse. You thought children forget, that they distract themselves easily, but Hanaâs affection is infinite. Integral to her.
How could she forget? You know who youâre talking about. How could anybody forget about him, ever?
You tuck in one of her black locks, inquiring, âWhich dress do you reckon I should get?â
Another shrug. Seung tries, âWould you like to take a look for yourself, as well?â
âBe nice, Hana,â you say, âdo you want to? You can say no, too, though.â
It takes a moment until she looks up. Her eyes change when she sees the variety presented to her; as if she didnât regard any of it since you stepped into the shop. But eventually, she says, âAlright. I will.â
She hops off the chair, small hand in Seungâs palm, walks around to take a look at her choices. Her forefinger is hooked in her mouth as she focuses, only coming out, slightly damp, when she points at something she likes.
Your seamstress approves of most of what Suhana prefers before moving to the colour, âWhich one shall we pick for you?â
âI like them all,â Hana says. Itâs tough to choose until it isnât. Once sheâs settled on one, staring at it with intensity, you understand sheâs decided, calling for you, âMama.â
âYes?â
âThis is Daddyâs favourite colour.â
A tender shade of sea green. Sheâs right, itâs his favourite. Or at least a preferred one. You guess you canât escape him, no matter how much you try, no matter how many miles you leave between him and you.
You ask, âDo you want to take it?â
But she seems unsure all of a sudden again. The finger has dropped with her expression, and she digs the heel of her shoe into the floor, yet nodding, âYes⌠I want to surprise Daddy.â
âHe will love it, baby,â you say, blinking rapidly. You point to the colour she chose. âThis dress then, please?â
âCertainly. Measurements?â Seung says, material already draped over her shoulder; she walks over to the measuring tape, readying herself butâŚ
Hana has long lost her motivation again. You see the light dim with each second, and you prepare yourself to convince her to bask in the excitement a little longer. But she wonât. Instead, she declares, âI donât want to.â
âWhat?â Seung voices. âIt only takes a momentââ
âI donât want to,â Hana repeats, âI want to go home.â
âThe dress?â
âNo.â She inhales, arms dangling at her sides, the childish whining painful when she pleads for the millionth, aching time, âI want to go back to Daddy now.â
Fucking hell, Suhana, how?
How do I take you back already?
If you could, youâd step out and curse into the world. Heâs too far away. Youâre too far away.
You left with a purpose, bid him goodbye to find peace within yourself. Peace with the fact that a woman is probably still sitting where you have welcomed guests so happily before. The woman that presented him yet another child, his blood and soul.
How do you explain to your daughter that returning might hurt worse than being here, and that his expression will shatter you? That heâll fall to his knees again, remind you that nobody has ever loved a girl before like he loves you.
That nobody will ever find this much adoration again. But that then, a second later, youâll remember that until you die, you wonât be the only one anymore?
How do you cope with this? How do you bring your child back into this home, in a mood like yours, without a solution just yet?
In that house where heâs grieving like you, youâll hear the echoes from everywhere, and the pain will intensify. His touch might linger on you, and the walls will scream and the bed will scream and the rooms will scream.
Yell the memories you made there.
The dinners you shared. The food he fed you with his spoon. The times heâd spill soup on you in the process and laugh it off, crack a dirty joke when the tissue drew over your cleavage.
And the times he kissed you at his office door, promising heâd be in the bedroom soon; the times you still knocked an hour later because he isnât just a good husband and father, but a good leader for his people, too.
And⌠andâŚ
The bare skin on the mattress next to you. Warm, sweet, hugging you in, lips on your shoulder, your back, your ear, your body. Engulfing you. Under you, above you, with you. The whispered words and the promises.
Vows that he fulfils during the days and the nights. Raising his children with deep-sitting sentiments, turning his own pain into power and using it to bring happiness to them and to you all the damn time.
Sleepless nights, giggly days, dances in empty rooms and conversations in laughter and tears and hurdles and successes.
Every wall and bed and room will scream out the question whether you remember.
Do you remember it all? Everything youâve become with him in all those years. Do you remember? Do you? Will you ever forget?
Everything falls. The leaves, the temperature, the warmth. Your damn heart.
And itâs then that you canât take it anymore. Maybe because you see him in your own daughterâs eyes; maybe because she keeps trying to manifest him, as if heâs right here.
So you break. Quietly but aggressively, grabbing her hand as you say, âEnough. No dresses for you. Weâre leaving.â
And you do. Suhana doesnât like the way you pull yourself and her out of the shop. Itâs not painful and youâre not violent or rushed; but maybe she hears your altered voice and sees the torment in your face, because she keeps calling for you until youâre home.
Your sister attempts her best to distract you, promising sheâll grab Hanaâs gown before you leave and whatnot â but youâre lost in thoughts, still overwhelmed by a flood of memories. You donât snap at Hana, even though she taps your wrist, asking why youâre mad and where Daddy is, and once you enter the hall in your previous house, you finally snapâ
âGet yourself together!â Youâre glaring. You never usually do. âI cannot fly to him. Practise patience for a while, alright?â
It shuts her up, but it does something to her expression, too. Sheâs tearing up, sniffling all of a sudden. Close to breaking, too, when your mother comes out to greet you, and you ask, âCould you just⌠could you play with her for a bit? Distract her? I justâŚâ
âYes,â she immediately says, offering Hana her hand, who takes it reluctantly. Sheâll be a little angry at you for a few hours. Wonât want you near her. So she obliges. âTake your time, love.â
So you do. Instantly so. Your sister helps, dragging you up to your old room by your elbow, just in time before you finally break down.
She wraps her arms around you as your tears cascade, your chin on her shoulder, shaking, hands unsteady as you lower the sound of your sobs. This isnât your first time crying here; but itâs the first time the tears blind you entirely.
Your sister lets you mourn for a while, rubbing your back, sitting at the edge of the bed as she mumbles something you canât make sense of. Sheâs always been good at comforting you, but this time, she doesnât know much about the issue itself. Unable to say much.
Instead, she asks, âThis isnât just a casual fight, is it? You had a very bad one.â
âIâm justâŚâ you try, but she shushes you again, tells you it is alright to take your time. You gulp, then start again, âI donât know what to do.â
âIt is this serious? What happened?â Sheâs concerned, but curious, too. âYou still donât want to tell me?â
You shake your head against her shoulder, and she sighs. You say, âI need to figure this out with him first. UnbiasedâŚâ
âI understand. I am here, though. You can stay here or with me⌠Seokjin knows, so he wonât mind.â
âBut⌠I justââ
âThese things happen, love. You know it. Marriage is all compromise and patience.â
You know. Of course you know. Didnât you have these same exact thoughts all day? Youâre aware of the basic foundation of marriage, but that doesnât mean it hurts any less.
âDoes it⌠always work out?â you ask.
âPerhaps. Perhaps not. I have a strong feeling that he and you will.â
ââŚWhy? How?
Maybe sheâs saying it because sheâs trying to lift you up. Maybe itâs part of comfort, to say things people want to hear. But your sister isnât this type of person; youâve appreciated her straightforward nature since the beginning of time, and if she didnât believe in what she said, youâd consider her switched with somebody else.
Which is why you trust her words when she speaks, partly because the sincerity seeps through them from beginning to end, or because youâre well aware of this universal truth, âItâs rare⌠seeing somebody love like this even after years. Of course thereâs always affection, but⌠sometimes love fades. His doesnât. He really does feel strongly about you.â
ââŚHe does.â
âSee, youâre not doubting it. Maybe thatâs enough for now.â
You would never leave such a statement open to debate. Even if a dozen women stood at your doorstep, reminding you of his lustful past and little mistakes, youâd send them away with a nonchalant wave.
Yes, the situation now differs from such a fantasy to its core, but even then, you know to trust in his heart. Itâs just the future youâre scared of. The back and forth, the facts presented to you; in the form of a memory and in the form of a child.
Breath heavy and chest aching, you tell her, âI just donât know what to do.â
âI donât know either,â she admits, voice quieter now. âButâ my first instinct would be⌠to tell you to go home. I think you need it. Your actual home.â
âAnd then whatâŚ?â
âWhatever your guts tell you to do. What are they telling you now?â
You puff out an exhale; youâre sick of crying. Your head hurts, as if devoid of oxygen. âThat I am scared.â
She nods, well aware, digs further, âWhat else? If you think about the situation, do you see a solution at all?â
Thinking about it⌠thinking about itâŚ
Properly pondering, you guess youâre not quite at the end of the road. Thereâs a wall in front of you, but itâs shrinking; if you give it an actual thought and look up, you might be able to climb over it. Itâd just need⌠inhumane strength.
âMaybe⌠in theory,â you say. âPerhaps.â
Short pause, silence cutting the air. Itâs still light outside, but the sky is grey again. No birds chirping, streets and alleys quieter. You think you hear a couple voices, a carriage passing under your windowâŚ
You miss the noise. You miss his voice.
You miss the way he sighs in the evenings, staring into a book you might have annoyed him into reading before looking up, noticing your gaze. Smiling at you, overwhelmed by love, leaning in as the novel closes and his lips openâŚ
So your answer shoots out of you when your sister asks, âWhat else are you thinking?â Clear and ardent and brimming with certainty as you sayâ
âThat I love him.â
The smile she flashes is tiny but telling. Something blooms in her eyes, as if filled with hope, and the little, unconscious gesture, manifesting in her expression, returns the longing to your heart.
A thumb wipes your tears before her hand covers yours, and with a voice so soft and gentle, she concludes, âYou really do. Go back, yes?â
And you donât have it in you to consider her wrong anymore. No matter the hurt, you donât think you should stay any longer at all. You wonât deny that you needed the escape for a bit; but maybe this suffices.
And in hindsight, maybe you knew how this would end all along.
THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ đđź
tumblr doesn't allow making very long posts due to the 1k block limit, so you can find the rest of the chapter and its 7k portion in this reblog! <3
#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#bts smut#bts angst#bts fluff#jeongguk smut#jungkook x reader#bts x reader#bts x you#jungkook x you#jungkook fic#jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook smut#jungkook#jungkook series
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b.katsuki x reader (fem) | quirkless!reader, prohero!dynamight, arranged marriage au.
a.n; fare warning, THIS IS A MONSTER<3 lol
Fuckin' Marry Me Series | First Part | Second Part |
The gentle sound of the scribble your pen makes over the paper, right where it requires your formal signature, is heard louder than you expected in that tense silence. Well, it isn't a bad silence, but more like an anxious one. One that has Bakugou, who is sitting right next to you, literally shaking his right leg up and down continuously, even though you already told him you would do this.
And what does âthisâ mean? It means you agreed to marry Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki. To help him finally be free from his own mother's clutches.
You had a hard time believing in the whole story he told you when he knocked on your door last Sunday morning âalmost tearing down the door actuallyâ after his father died. Even though you had agreed that same day, you asked him for a few days to clear your head a bit. He accepted, respecting your space even at work, which was weird.
A normal day at work always starts with a banter with this same man right at the entrance of the company and it follows until you enter the elevator. Everyone is already used to it, so they ignore both of you. It mostly ends when you have to get off on the floor where your office is, which is one under the one where all heroes keep their hero costumes and get changed. Of course, sometimes the banter would continue if you were assigned to work with Hero Dynamight through the earbuds that connected you at a distance.
That Monday morning though, was different. Weird for everyone who looked at both of you in shock. The moment you stood in front of the other right outside the company, everyone was waiting for it to happen, yet found themselves opening their eyes wide in surprise as you and Bakugou simply bowed slightly in hello and walked towards the building in complete silence. It followed inside the elevator, where he willingly stood next to you âyou always stood on each side of it to avoid even accidentally touching. Nobody could believe their eyes. Especially when it was your moment to walk out on your floor and he said, âSee yaâ aroundâ, and you turned your head towards him and slightly smiled, murmuring a timidly, âYou too. Take care outside.â
That day you weren't assigned to work with him, nor the two days after âin which these same actions and words were repeated by both of you every morningâ yet you could feel the whispers and gossip around about this neutral ground between you two. Your boss even called you to his office to ask if everything was okay.
You internally laughed at the situation. It was so normal for you to fight with Bakugou that everyone found it weird and worrisome if you didn't. It was actually hilarious.
Wednesday shift had you entering the office at 5 p.m. and would have you leaving at almost 3 a.m. âif the hero assigned to you didn't get caught in a villain fight around that time. So when you were about to take the elevator and its door opened, you almost bumped into a freshly showered and already leaving Bakugou Katsuki.
âOh, heyâŚâ
âHey,â he answered back. Both of you took a step out of the elevator, standing right in front of each other. One of his hands flew to the back of his head, scratching it and making small droplets of his still wet hair fall as he spoke, âI was, ummm, gonna talk to you today⌠but, umm, your shiftâŚâ
âOh yeah, it's night shift today,â you nodded, hands holding the strap of your bag, trying to look casual and not let the nerves be shown. âYours finished?â
âYeah, tomorrow's night shift for me.â
âI know, I'm with you tomorrow,â you smiled.
His eyebrows pulled up, nodding in acceptance, âCool.â
Yours frown, tilting your head a bit to the side, âIs it? Since when?â Now that you think about it, all that neutral ground between you two was very weird. New, but weird.
He rolled his eyes, hands hiding inside the pockets of his jacket.
âSince I'm trynna marry yââ
âShhhh! Shut it, not here!â He smirked arrogantly. Ah, there's the comeback of the old annoying Bakugou.
âIâ...â
âKATSUKI!âÂ
A screeching yell made the hairs of your arms stand in alert, completely unexpected for you. Yet for the man in front of you was a sound he was very familiar with. He grunted, his mood completely changing into anger as he turned around towards the yell.
âThe fuck are you doing here, old hag?â
Oh. His mother.
You have seen her at a distance before, never actually got to meet her personally or even hear her voice âyou were glad about that last particular fact though, she sounded awful.
You didn't miss to recognize the position Bakugou had you at the moment when he turned around and covered your small form behind his massive body from his mother to even acknowledge your presence there. You're grateful for his surprising and kind of sensitive tact. He's giving you an out from that, what you know for sure was going to be, a quite tense moment.
âI fucking told you, you need to hurry! Iâm not fucking waiting for you any longer!â She yelled again, not caring at all about the place she was nor the people around in the lobby.
Bakugou looked to the side, taking a very deep breath before pinching his nose. His hand then hung loosely on the side of his body, but he kept opening and closing his hand in a fist. Oh wow, he was really holding himself back.
You didn't know what possessed you to do what you did or why, but you acted before thinking.
Your hand flew towards his, holding his trembling fist tightly. You knew it took him by surprise, but he hid it well by standing straighter, body still hiding you behind him. You knew for a fact that his face didnât show any emotion other than anger, so nothing was amiss. His arm flexed behind him, bringing yours with his, as his hand opened and held yours tightly back.
This had been the very first time you willingly touched him. The first time you actually ever touched him at all. And your eyes couldn't leave the sight of his big hand fully surrounding yours, making you feel smaller than ever. I mean, you had eyes, he was a freaking hulk next to you. But the warm feeling of it enclosing yours securely made you feel safe, protected. It also felt calloused, a hand that was used every day to bring down bad guys and protect a whole nation, if not the world. Yet the warmth in it made your whole body tingle.
Fuck. What was this?
âI fuckinâ told you not to come in the first place,â he didn't need to yell, his voice sounded loud and clear even at the distance.
âHURRY THE FUCK UP!â
You tightened your hold on his hand, just to ground him in support. He sighed, returning the gesture to thank you before saying in his mother's direction, âI'm fuckinâ going, you pain in the assâ, and walked towards her, letting go of your hand.
His mother simply turned and walked in front of him outside of the building. She never realized you had been there the whole time.
The moment had been so stressful, and if that was what Bakugou had to deal with every day since he was born, damn. You actually felt sorry for him.
Thanks to the glass walls of the lobby you could watch the Bakugous walk towards the expensive car waiting for them outside. They were clearly shit-talking to each other the whole way, until before they got inside the car, his mother actually slapped the back of his head strongly. Twice.
A rising rage traveled up your body, hands closing in fists. What the fuck?! Who the fuck did she think she was? Why the hell did she need to fucking hit him like that, twice? Why the hell did she do it at all? Fuck, you were starting to believe in everything Bakugou told you about her.
âYou get it now, don't you?â Izuku's voice from behind you made you jump a bit in surprise.
You cleared your throat, looking elsewhere and breathing deeply, trying to clear your head.Â
âI don'tââ
Izuku's hand raised, making you go silent. âBefore you come up with a clever excuse, let me remind you that Kacchan and I have been friends since diapers⌠and we talk to each other.â
His eyeing made you gulp, but his words were clear enough, âYou know then.â
He nodded, hand detaining the elevatorâs doors so you both could enter, him after you. âHe came to my apartment right after and told me all that happened. I was at the funeral too.â
He didn't need to explain anymore, it was more than clear he was talking about last Sunday when Bakugou asked you to marry him. You knew his father had died sometime Saturday afternoon and that the funeral was held that same night. Bakugou had come to your apartment right after his father had been cremated.
âI know you two fight like cats and dogs all the time, but he's not that bad once you give him a chance. And by what you just saw, I know you understand now why he's always on the defensive.â
You sigh. Damn it, you do. Growing up in an environment like that made you think it was actually a miracle Bakugou turned out the way he did.
âI also know that you agreed to marry him to help him be finally free from his mother,â he confirmed out loud once the doors of the elevator closed and it was just the two of you in there.
âAny advice?â
He chuckled, turning his whole body and looking directly at you, âBe open-minded. Kacchan's mouth sometimes opens before he thinks and his words don't mean what he actually intended, but his actions speak louder than anything.â
You rolled your eyes. Ugh, you were feeling the stress already.
The elevator signaled that you had arrived at your floor, so you sighed, nodding in his way as an answer and walking outside. But before the doors closed, Izuku held them for a bit longer to talk again.
âAlso⌠Be smarter.â
âThan him?â You asked confused.
âThan her.â
And with that, he let the doors close, a smile plastered on his face that told on all the mischief his eyes shined with.
This little⌠cheeky bastard.
The audacity.
You made a mental note to punch Izuku the next time you bumped into him. On purpose.
Throughout the rest of the day, you couldn't get that image of Bakugou being abused by his own mother out of your head. Because yes, it was fucking abuse. And in fucking public! How many times had this happened already? And why the fuck no one had ever said or done anything against it? Even when he was a kid?!
It was outrageous.
And the fact that Bakugou held himself back, because you knew he did, not only because she was his mother but also because she was a woman âand you could bet she fucking used that at her advantageâ only spoke about the kind of man he was.
Bakugou Katsuki is a good man.
You took your cell phone out and searched for his contact number, your fingers flying over the keyboard.
You: Make the appointment for this Friday.
His reply didn't take long.
Bakugou K.: Done.
You took a deep breath. The decision was made. And you were not going to back out from it. Or so you hoped.
Another notification made your phone ring and it was another text message.
Bakugou K.: Thank you.
The beginning of a smile threatened to break out from your mouth as you re-read that message several times. Until the loud pip-ing that alerted a villain attack completely distracted you, or more like, brought you back to reality.
The rest of the days went faster than you expected.
The shift on Wednesday ended on time, miraculously. So at exactly 3 a.m. you were turning off your computer and putting your stuff back in your bag. You had several notifications on your phone but didn't feel like giving them your attention at that moment, choosing to concentrate on clearing your space and going back home. You let out several yawns when you got inside the elevator, holding yourself on the handrail, sleep having you on the verge of passing out tired of the stressful days. For some reason, villains chose that week to be more active than usual, which demanded more of your focus and being in constant alert mode.
When the doors finally opened on the lobby floor, you walked towards the check-in clock to mark the end of your shift. You bowed goodbye to the receptionist and walked towards the entrance of the company. For a moment, you entertained your mind with the idea of taking a taxi to get home faster. But damn it, that was expensive, and you were not going to waste money like that. And even if you wanted to, you couldn't.
You sighed, covering your neck as best as you could with your coat once you crossed the doors, and began your walk in the direction you needed to go. It was a very chilly night, but because it was Spring, you didn't expect such cold weather.
You were thinking about how you'd have to resist this coldness until you got home when you looked up and recognized Bakugou's obviously expensive car and him resting against it, arms crossed over his chest.
âWhat are you doing here?â
âYou didn't check your messages, short-legs?â
You denied, head shaking, âI finished the shift and packed everything. Wanted to leave as soon as possibleâŚâ
He snorted, shaking his head, âGet in. I'll take you home.â
âOh, it's okay. I can walkâŚâ
He frowned, âThe fuck you think I would be here for then? Get in the car, dumbass.â
âGeez. Okay! No need to get grumpy, asshole.â
You rounded his car towards the passenger seat and climbed in. He followed and got on the driver's side.
The inside was warm, as the heater had been on. You smiled gladly, rubbing your freezing-cold hands to warm them up faster.
âCan't believe you were planning to walk home. Are you stupid?â
You opened your mouth, ready to fire back, but Izuku's words invaded your mind.
ââŚKacchan's mouth sometimes opens before he thinks and his words don't mean what he actually intended, but his actions speak louder than anythingâŚâ
You thought for a moment, and it was actually easier than you thought to figure it out. Bakugou wasn't actually trying to insult you. He was worried that you would walk home that early in the morning, when the sun wasn't even out yet, in that weather.
Oh. That changed the perspective entirely.
âYeah, actually,â you chuckled, hands still rubbing to heat them up. âI can't afford a taxi, and the subway isn't open yet.â
He turned on the car, but his attention was on you, âWhat you mean you can't afford a stupid taxi? Isn't your payââŚâ
You denied, body relaxing a bit over the seat thanks to the warmth as he drove smoothly. You liked warm things. Spring was your favorite season because of it.
âContrary to common belief, Quirk & Training Specialists don't gain much.â
âWhat?! Why? I mean⌠Most of the time is thanks to your area that we heroes are fuckinâ alive.â
âAwww. Thank you for admitting it! Now, would you admit that publicly?â
âOf fuckinâ course I would!â
You smiled, âWell, you would be the first one. Tell me, do you think other heroes would willingly admit that their wins sometimes belong to a ghost that tells them what to do or where to go through their earbuds?â
Your words made him close his mouth. Aha. TouchĂŠ.
You chuckled, âIt's okay, Bakugou. It's my job.â
âNow that I think about it, your name is nowhere to be seen in my reports. It's not even fuckinâ mentioned as a sidekick or something.â
âThat's because I'm not a sidekick. I'm just a quirkless person who is observant enough to point you the best way to go. I'm not that importantâŚâ
âShut the fuck up.â
You looked at him, trying to decipher what he meant. He didn't mean to insult you, what he was trying to say is, âdon't say that about yourselfâ.
Wow. Izuku was so right about that advice. You made a mental note to thank him the next time you saw him. After punching him, of course.
The rest of the car ride was silent. But not uncomfortable. The gentle sound of the heater turned on was relaxing enough to even doze you a bit, warm and content.
Bakugou didn't speak until he parked right in front of your apartment building. You immediately noticed you had probably slept the rest of the way.
âI'm sorry, I think I fell asleep.â
âYou think?â He chuckled, face looking your way. You snorted back, finding his teasing funny. His crooked smile made tingles run up your arms. Or was it the heater? Yes, that probably was it, the heater.
You cleared your throat and looked down at your seat belt and untied it âwait. You didn't remember putting it on. Did he⌠Did he put it on you when you fell asleep? Oh, my. You gulped, feeling the tingles run all over your body again. Fuck. You needed to leave that small space you shared with this man, like⌠now.
But before you did, you looked back at him one more time.
âThank you⌠for driving me home,â you pulled a rebellious strand of hair behind your ear and smiled. You were indeed grateful that you actually didn't have to freeze on your way home, so you bowed slightly too.
You were about to open the door when he spoke.
âWait,â you turned back at him and watched curiously as he opened the compartment, taking out a small folder.
He pushed it in your direction and looked expectantly at you. You took it, a bit doubtful, not quite understanding what it meant.
âI said I would sign a contract if that's what you wanted. It's just a draft, but I put some items in there that I want you to check. You can add some yourself. And if we both agree, we can sign it.â
Oh. âOh, okay⌠I'll check it out and let you know.â
He nodded in response and you finally got out of the car and ran through the shocking cold towards your building. Inside the elevator, you pressed the folder over your chest. This felt way more real than what you felt earlier when you made the final decision and texted him.
But something tasted a bit⌠bitter. Was this something you had to do on your own? Like, the marriage was between the both of you. And while it wasnât one out of a loving relationship, it was still something that included both. This contract thing felt like something you needed to sit down and review together.
You decided then.
Your hand searched for your phone in your bag, and ignoring all the notifications, you directly made the call.
Not one ring later, he picked up the call.
âAre you oâ...â
âDid you leave?â You interrupted him before he could say anything else.
âNo, I'm still down here.â
âUmm, are you tired? Cause if you are we can definitely leave it for tomorrow, or better said later, but I slept through the car ride so I'm not that tired anymore, but if you thinkââ
âCut the fuckinâ rambling. Go to the point, short-legs.â
You sighed, fingers sliding through your hair and pulling it back. âIf you want, he can revise this now. I think it's better if we do it together.â
You heard the intake of a deep breath, a relieved one, before he said, âYeah⌠Okay. I'm on my way up.â The sound of the car's door closing confirmed he was on his way.
âOkay.â
âOkay.â He repeated and then ended the call.
It took you both three hours and just one heated discussion to come to terms with each of the items. Both satisfied with the consensual agreements, you brought out your laptop and rewrote it. You printed two copies, one for each, that you both signed. That's how the contract was ready and done. Now the next and final step would be the marriage in front of a judge. That Friday. In one day.
âWe need two witnesses,â you reminded him, to which he grunted.
âRight, I forgot about that.â
âWell, we already know who you are pickingâŚâ
He pulled up an eyebrow, looking in your direction, âHuh? And who am I picking, know-it-all?â
You rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless, âIzuku.â
He tched, not admitting it out loud, but it was obvious you were right.
You chose to let it be and not cause any banter, mostly because you definitely felt more tired than a few hours back.
âSmart-ass. Then who are you picking, mmh?â
You shrugged, âI don't know. I was thinking Mina,â his groan made you chuckle, âbut I think Jirou would keep a low profile better.â
âYeah, good thinking.â You nodded in agreement. You loved Mina, and you knew he did too, but she couldn't keep things down sometimes. And one of the items was to keep a low profile throughout the whole marriage thing. Bakugou hated the press and paparazzi, and you weren't a fan of them either. Even though you had never been the center of attention of them, you actually preferred to keep it that way. On the low and as invisible as possible.
Thursday went very quiet and chill, which was very surprising considering it was Dynamight's shift. Sometimes, villains made you think they had a particular masochistic side and loved appearing whenever Pro Hero Dynamight was around. Some of them even loved to provoke him on purpose so he would yell all those obscenities towards them. And they enjoyed it. Freaks.
But not that Thursday. It had been a very peaceful one. It even found you chatting with Bakugou through the earbuds.
âSo what now, yaâ gonna fuckinâ tell me Endeavor is better than All Might?â
âOh, shut up, you All Might-obsessed-freak! I will admit All Might was huge, but you can't deny Endeavor stood his ground and made big stuff too.â
âLike fuckinâ what?â
âThe fight with the nomuââ
âHA! Please! That was child's play. All Might took down AFO.â
âYeah. But it was Deku who won against him in the end, not him. And All Might only fought twice against AFO. Endeavor killed a powerful nomu.â
âYou are so fuckinâ blind!â
âYou are the blind one!â
âHow could you say Endeavor is better than All Might?!â
âI did not say that!â
âWaitâ then what did yâ?â
âI just said, Endeavor was N° 1 too. He was a Hero too. He deserves a bit of recognition.â
You could hear Bakugouâs snort, âSo you like them complicated and misunderstoodâŚâ
Bakugouâs malice in his teasing was palpable, yet you always had an answer for him.
âWell⌠What does that say about you?â
âOh, shut the fuck up!â
If you had been paying attention to your surroundings, you would have noticed all your co-workers smiling at your cute banter with Bakugou. Yet you were so invested in it, you didn't notice.
Conversations that also led to getting to know each other a little bit more also happened.
âI like orange. You?â
The question took you by surprise after almost half an hour of silence from both ends. Yet, it didn't surprise you at all his preference in color. It was kind of obvious.
âFigures. It doesn't surprise me at allââ
âWhat the fuck does that mean?!â
âMine is purple.â
âWhy?â
âUmmm, I don't know. I always pictured that if I had become a Hero, my costume would be purple. I decided that even before I knew if I had a Quirk or not.â
You had said it in a conversational tone, never intended to make him feel some type of way. Yet, he still asked, âAnd is still your favorite, even afterââ
ââafter I found out I am quirkless? Yes. Why wouldn't it be?â
âMmmh,â was his simple answer.
The shift ended peacefully and on time, which both of you were grateful for, considering what the following day was.
When the shift was over, you waited a considerate couple of minutes. Minutes it would take the heroes to come back from their shift to the company. Then, you got inside the elevator but instead of going down, you went one floor up.
Your phone rang with a notification.
Bakugou K.: You asked her yet?
You rolled your eyes. So impatient.
You: No, I'm about to. I'm on your floor.
Bakugou K.: Slow ass.
You still wanted to punch him, sometimes.
You put your phone back inside your bag as you walked towards the girlsâ wing of the floor, completely avoiding even looking at the boys' wing way. You knocked two times before Ochako opened the door slightly to look who it was.
âOh, hi, Y/N!â
âY/N!â
âHi!â
âHello, Y/N.â
âHI BABY!!âÂ
All the girls present that shift greeted you cheerfully, especially Mina. You greeted back while entering the room and closing the door behind you.
You chatted with all of them here and there as they got changed, not an ounce of shyness between all of you. You were friends with almost all of them, having already worked with the majority of the girls and hung out with them many times. You knew almost all about them. Their sleep faces, their ugly cries, their drunk personalities. All of it. And they knew you too. That's why you didn't need to be subtle at all when you said, âI actually need to speak with Jirou for a momentâ. Everyone understood and took it nicely as they hurried a bit their way into their clothes and grabbed their stuff before leaving you two alone.Â
All of them knew you and Jirou had a special friendship, a close one. She was the one you always went to when you really needed to confide in someone with something deep within you. The same thing was for Jirou. You were actually the first one of all to know when Denki confessed his feelings to her, and even talked her through her own âsecretâ feelings for him.
âWhat's up, buddy?â She straddled one of the benches and sat, patting the place in front of her for you to follow.
You sat in front of her crossing your legs under you, your bag actually forgotten on the floor down the bench.
âI'm going to tell you something, but I need you to keep an open mind and listen to it all before you say anything.â
She jerked her head back a bit, already feeling confused, âYou're scaring me already.â
âYou have no ideaâŚâ You sighed and began the tell-tale.
Her eyes kept opening wider and wider with each thing you told her about what had been happening with you and Bakugou these last days.
What it felt like probably an hour later, you finished with, âSo, that's why⌠we are going to get married tomorrow.â
Jirou fastly stood up, almost jumping a few steps back, and pointed a finger at you.
âThat's it! That's why you have been so civil to each other! I knew something was up withâ WAIT,â oh yeah, you thought she hadn't quite listened to what you just said. But then it came, âARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! Y/N!! YOU'RE FUCKING JOKING.â
You shook your head, âNo, I'm not.â The calmness and firm tone in which you answered made her sidetrack tons in her own reaction, as she sat back down in front of you and took your hands in hers.
âHoney, it isn't your obligation to do any of this. You know that, right?â
You smiled, the clear worry in Jirou's eyes warming your little heart. You had such a good friend.
âI do. But I want to do this. For him.â You were sincere, and you knew Jirou could see it in your eyes too.
âEven though you donât like each other??â
âEven though we donât like each other.â
You repeated, but your tone was decisive. Jirou looked at you silently for a moment, then sighed and nodded.
âOkay⌠Whatever you choose, I'm here for and with you.â Your arms immediately surrounded her neck in a hug. She returned it gladly, patting your back in reassurance. âAnd if he hurts you, just tell me. I'll make him pay.â
You laughed amusingly. âI know you will. But this isn't the only thing I'm here for.â
She groaned, âThere's more?! I don't know how much my heart can take...â
âWell, will it survive if I ask you to be my witness tomorrow?â
Jirou's eyes filled with tears before it was her turn to surround your neck in a tight hug.
âI'll take that as a yes,â you both giggled, hugging each other tight.
Twenty minutes later you were both leaving the building of the company and you walked her towards the motorcycle parking lot where she had hers.
âI'll text you the location in the morning.â
âAlright, I can't wait for it!â She said excitedly, but then, she looked more intently at you. âI just want to say, this thing you're doing is beyond heroic. You're literally being a Hero right now.â
Her words touched something inside you that made you want to cry like a baby. Something so deep it made you feel like floating away with the harsh galloping your heart made against your chest. It didn't make sense, yet it actually did.
You gulped looking down at your feet, strongly holding back the cry that threatened to be released right in your throat.
âYou need a ride back home?â She asked, completely ignoring âfor your sake and out of respectâ your glassy eyes.
âI'll take her home,â Bakugou's voice in the distance surprised both of you, yet you had been expecting something like this to happen. Something told you he would be waiting you after his shift.
Jirou looked at you waiting for your approval, and when you nodded, she put on her helmet and turned on her bike. You walked towards where Bakugou was standing with Jirou riding next to you, and when she was next to him, she said, âYou better take care of my friend, or I'll come for your ass, don't care you're my friend too.â
Bakugou snorted, âI know you will, Ears.â He smiled, pulling down her face shield to annoy her. She punched him friendly on the shoulder before waving and driving away.
âShe said yes then.â
You both began walking towards what you thought he had parked his car. âYep. What did Izuku say?â
He rolled his eyes, âYou know he said yes.â
You smiled, âI know, I was just being friendly and asked.â
âSmart-ass.â
âI am really going to punch you again, don't tempt me.â
âYeah⌠If that one punch could be considered a punch, it would be âagainâ.â
âOh, so you do want me toâŚâ
You tried to reach his shoulder, but this time he was fast enough to dodge it expertly. âYou really are slow, huh?â He mocked walking backwards and smirking.
âYou want slow, assholeâŚâ
He laughed, turning around and running away as you ran towards him trying to catch him.
He was a stupidly fast idiot.
So now, it is Friday, and you sit right next to Bakugou Katsuki. Both of you are in front of a judge who is officially marrying you. Jirou sits on your left, while Izuku sits on Bakugou's right. And you have just finished writing your signature where the bride's one goes. Bakugou has already signed his. It isn't until you put the pen down on the table that Bakugou stops bouncing his leg and breathes in deep.
You want to laugh, finding his nerves quite funny. But you get it. This means more than just marriage to him.
It's freedom.
And you can't even imagine how nerve-racking that must feel for him. After all these years that he had to follow his mother's command and will just so he could follow his own dream, now he would be free.
That in itself brings you such a happy feeling for him.
If anyone would have ever told you that you would be doing this for none other than Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki, you would have sent them to a psychiatrist. Immediately.
Fate is a strange thing.
After the turn for the witnesses to sign, the judge says boringly, âBy the authority vested in me by the government of Tokyo, I pronounce you husband and wife.â
He doesn't even wait nor expect the newlyweds to kiss or exchange rings as he closes the book and gives Bakugou the previous enrollment you both signed.
And that is it. You are officially married to Bakugou Katsuki.
âWho are you with on today's shift? What time are you out?â
His questions make you come back to reality after a quiet drive toward the company in his car, which you spend looking at the golden ring that now adorns your left hand. When you look up, the shining of the golden ring on his left hand catches your attention as he circles the steering wheel so the car turns on a corner, the company appearing in your view in the distance.
âUmm, I'm with Izuku. If everything goes well, at 3 a.m.â
âOkay. Iâll come pick you up.â
âBakugou, itâs okay, I can walk home,â you insist for the nth time.
âBullshitââ
ââBesides, you have morning patrol tomorrow,â you continue, completely ignoring his dirty mouth, âYou canât interrupt your sleep like this every time I have this shift. You need to be awake for your job.â
He grunts, muttering something that you canât quite decipher what he said. You roll your eyes, thinking he acts like a petulant child sometimes.
A moment later, Bakugou enters the parking lot with his car, to which you look confused at him. Why is he entering the company on his day off?
He answers even before you can articulate your words, âI need to pick up some unfinished reports I have to turn in tomorrow.â
You pull up an eyebrow, untying the seatbelt and getting out of his car once he finally parks, âWow. Dynamight is lacking on his paperwork?â
âShut up, short-legs.â
You snort at his lighthearted insult as you walk together inside the company. But right when you both cross the big doors, Bakugou stops and looks at you. You frown confused, he then motions down with his head and you see his hand open, waiting. Oh, right.
Item n°2: Act like we are in a real relationship. The lawyers for the companies always investigate deeper into each hero, so that their status and validation of mental sanity are correlated.
You put your hand over his, both closing on each other, its warmth making those damn tingles run up your arm. But neither of you says anything as you walk through the lobby of the company holding hands.
Everyone who looks opens their eyes wide, one of the receptionists even spills her coffee drink out of shock. You hold yourself from laughing. Another of the receptionists looks you up and down, a clear disgusted expression on her face. Ops. Well, itâs not like you liked her either.
However, both you and Bakugou walk with your heads held high. You know how shocking and out of character the image of you both holding hands like a couple looks. And fast, everything happened so fast. You can already hear the gossip about whatever this is that you might have with Bakugou is way too fast. But you havenât done everything you did for them. It is for him. As surprising as that sounds, even for you.
He walks with you towards the clock where you have to mark your entrance, never dropping your hand as you do. Then, you walk together to the elevator waiting for it to arrive. As you wait and look down at your shoes, you feel before you actually see his other hand moving, fingers brushing against your ear when he tugs a strand of your hair that had been over your face. Surprised, you look up at him but still smile in thanks.
Bakugou retracts his hand quickly and puts it inside the pocket of his jacket, looking back at the elevator. You would tease him for the little blush his cheeks are showing, but you decide itâs not the moment, considering how all eyes are on you two.
When it arrives and you get in, standing very close to each other while watching how everyone tries to peep inside to see if youâre still holding hands or if anything else happens between you two, you both jolt a bit when a wild and hurried Izuku suddenly enters the elevator, jacket half off and hair disheveled. He also looks in surprise at you two, eyes traveling down at your connected hands. A shit-eating grin appears on his face as the doors of the elevator close.
âShut up.â
Bakugou and you speak at the same time.
Izuku snorts, hands in the air in a sign of surrender. âWasnât going to say anythingâŚâ
âI sense a âbutâ...â You roll your eyes, and Bakugou hums in agreement.
The greenette smiles wider, âBut I understand now why everyone was looking like they saw All Might in person.â
Bakugou insults him, just because he always wants to have the final say, making Izuku laugh out loud amused. You decide to ignore both of them until the elevator arrives at your floor.
âDonât blow up the elevator,â you warn them both after Izuku answers back at Bakugou, just to spite him. Your hand gives Bakugou one last squeeze in goodbye before walking out, âIâm with you today, Izuku.â
âOh, cool! Iâll get connected in a bit.â You nod in his direction and look at Bakugou one last time, smiling and waving.
The doors close and you donât get to see him smile back at you.
The shift, as always with Pro Hero Deku, is not calm or chill. Itâs hectic and dangerous, and it keeps demanding all your focus and senses on alert.
âYou know, sometimes I believe you have a magnet for trouble stuck up in your assâŚâ you hear Izuku spill the drink he must have been probably about to swallow. You chuckle devilishly. Wow, two times in a day you make someone spill their drink, that must be a record.
âDamn. Not twenty-four hours of being married to him, and you are already influenced.â
âOh, shut it,â you both laugh amicably.
Again, the pip-ing of alert sounds in your computer. You sigh, âDeku, another threat five streets down where youâre at now.â
âOn my way!â
âSee? A magnet in your assâŚâ Izuku laughs.
You both donât get to chat about another thing that is not your job again for the rest of the shift.
At exactly 3:10 a.m. you let out a tired sigh, stretching your arms above you and moving your body from side to side as gentle cracks sound from your backbone. After Deku pushes a villain inside a police car and looks at it drive away for a moment, his yawn that you hear through the earbuds passed on to you as you involuntarily copy the action.
âThat was the last one. Iâm going back,â you agree with him as you press the option on the system that notifies everyone on the shift that your hero is coming back to headquarters.
âDone.â
âThanks, Y/N, great work today!â
âYou did it all, buddy.â
âOh, no! None of us heroes could do it without you. All of you, really.â
You frown, a bit surprised. I mean, Izuku is always polite and thanks you after every shift, but today feels different. Like he is purposely saying that, as if he knew someone important was listening to their connection.
âYou are⌠welcome?â You actually donât know what to say. He simply chuckles.
By orders from your area, you can't leave until Dekuâs entered the company back again, so you use that time to finish gathering your things and closing the system.
âI'm back. Wait for me, Y/N. I'll take you home,â not longer than five minutes later Izuku says through the earbuds.
âOh. You don't haveââ
âKacchan asked me to.â
His words shut you up. But he doesn't wait for your answer as he finally disconnects the communication.Â
And you're left there, frozen for a moment, assimilating his words. Bakugou asked Izuku to take you home. He asked his best friend to take care of you, even when he knew Izuku would do it or offer on his own. Izuku always rode you home when you had night shifts together. Bakugou surely knows that. Then, why even mention it to his friend? Why personally ask Izuku to help you? Because⌠Bakugou didn't enter the company only for his unfinished paperwork. He did it to talk to Izuku. Was this⌠Bakugou taking care of you because you were married? Or because he wanted to?
#mha fanfiction#bnha fanfiction#mha bakugou katsuki#bnha bakugo katsuki#bakugou x reader#bnha bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugou x reader#mha bakugou x reader#mha humor#mha angst#mha fluff#bnha humor#bnha fluff#bnha angst#mha x reader#bnha x reader#mha arranged marriage au#prohero!bakugou katsuki x quirkless!reader#mha bakugou katsuki x reader#bnha bakugou katsuki x reader#bnha arranged marriage au#mha series#mha fuckin' marry me series#bnha fuckin' marry me series#fuckin' marry me series#mha imagines#mha scenarios#bnha imagines#bnha scenarios
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Oh boy okay I think my smallest / least known fave is Ambersun (formerly known as Albion, changed because of how many other bands have the same name), and I am begging everyone to listen to this band because seriously it is so good.
Summary: it's a power metal band which I think may be basically a one man show plus various guest vocalists I'm not sure, which does story-based concept albums based on different works of fiction. Possibly qualifies as Rock Operas? Anyway I love "fandom music" and this is one of my all time favorites even though two of the albums are for "I don't even go here" fandoms and the other is for a book I found through the music, because the sound is awesome, the lyrics are awesome, and you can just hear the passion put into them.
I'm now going to post a bunch of lyrics under the cut please please please listen to these songs. Actually just listen to the albums in order, this is one of those bands where the songs are already good as standalones but you really need to listen to the full album to get the full experience.
We are lost, in an endless night, the sun drained from our eyes
Gone, when we sold our lives to the plague that stole the sky
"Life Before Death," from The Poison Skies
Erased and they don't care, but you would still be here if only you'd stayed, been mine only mine
It's so unfair to leave me, the tribe I formed deceived me, but now I'll fight in your name
There's no way to hide from their stare,
I still feel their eyes everywhere
And the hatred that clouds all their minds, it hides the truth of it all
"Out In the Wilds" from The Poison Skies
The one to keep the noble name, to carry all their hopes and dreams, a future severed when one night became forever
"Run" from The Poison Skies. This. Freaking. Song. Has changed me. "Run" is a banger on its own, but reading The Afflicted and reaching the scene this song is about made it so much better and also slightly painful. Which can be said about the entirety of The Poison Skies but this song especially, because the entire song is a character high on adrenaline, deluding himself into believing he can actually pull off the promise he made to his friends that he was going to survive the badass self-sacrificing stunt he was pulling. Also I have no idea how I have not gotten a speeding ticket while playing this in the car yet.
Visions that I can't erase, every time I see her face,
She reminds me of how I never tried
Now I watch us as we fall, can't help anyone at all,
Why did I alone survive?
Survivor's Guilt!
"Survivor's Guilt" from The Poison Skies
This worthless weapon symbolizes who I am
Remaining silent, offer no resistance,
And I become the iron mask
"Disappear" from The Poison Skies
Survive one last dance through the wind and the cold,
We can't change our stories, but they still can be told
"Snow" from The Poison Skies
Sealed in cryogenic cold, I'll dive into the dark, reanimate your soul
Together we will rise up hand in hand this blackened night
"Morning" from The Day the Night Slept
I'll burn in the night, I'll light up the sky, you'll see,
And I'll be the Scorpion's Fire!
"The Scorpion's Fire" from The Day the Night Slept
Lost in the night, but still he survives
I'll tear apart time so his heart never dies
"Asriel Must Be Saved" from Buried Souls. Yes this is exactly what it sounds like from the title. A 15 minute musical fix fic about finding a way of saving Asriel Dreemur from Undertale with some sort of timeline fuckery I don't understand because I haven't played the game. And it's glorious.
Mighty wheels will turn again, flames of faith ignite
Chase the legend of the sun, and bathe our world in light
"Bring Back the Sun," currently a single release.
enough about taylor swift already. reblog and tag the smallest, least known artist you listen to
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Oh man I have ideas..
Sevika has a home back in Zaun but she has to have an apartment in Piltover because of councilor duties until she fully adjusts to topside and accepts the insistent offers of a manor. Imagine being her wife and just helping her relax after her first day, cuddling and all that whilst adjusting to the fancy apartment bigger than your old house.
Or..
Sevika taking her wife out for a walk in Piltover, admiring more of the garden as the plants grow upon new soil. A talk about the future whilst holding hands.
Or..
Them renewing their vows, having that damn fancy wedding of the dreams.
Toodles!!!
EEEEEEEEK okay lets do some councilor sevika (also isha and jinx are still alive in this story because i said so. she doesn't need to suffer so much to still be an incredible leader. give her her girls!!!)
men and minors dni
you were the first person approached about sevika representing zaun in piltover's new council post-war.
you were a little concerned to find councilwoman shoola and three members of her personal guard on your front stoop-- and for just a moment you had a flash of anxiety that she was here looking for jinx or isha.
"councilwoman. hello." you say, still surprised. you've met the woman a few times before, both of you attending various re-building efforts around the undercity. she holds up a hand.
"please, dear, we've built a bookshelf together, you've seen me at my lowest. you can call me shoola."
"h-how can i help you counc-- shoola?" you ask. she smiles.
"i'm here regarding your wife."
you frown. "...is she in some kind of trouble?" you ask, already mentally planning how to worm sevika out of her trouble. the councilwoman chuckles.
"quite the opposite, actually. i'd like her to join the council... as an ambassador to the free nation of zaun." she says.
you nearly shit yourself at her words-- sevika's life work casually mentioned like it's just a sidenote. "the-- free?" you ask.
she smiles. "while the deaths of the other councilmembers in the war was a horrible loss, there are some issues i could never get my late colleagues to agree on. now, though... i've been given full authority to reorient the power structure of the council to avoid anymore kirraman's taking over-- and i've always been of the belief that zaun should be free."
"and w-what... you want to arrest jinx in exchange for it?" you ask.
shoola chuckles. "no."
"y-you want isha?" you ask. shoola laughs again.
"what could i want with a child? no!"
"so... what do you want?" you ask, your voice shaking as the reality of the situation sinks in.
"i just want your help talking sevika into the job. i know she can be... stubbo--?"
"bullheaded?" you guess as shoola searches for a kind word to describe sevika's stubbornness. she chuckles at your description of your wife and nods.
"here." she hands you a stack of papers. "i've outlined the full responsibilities of the job. as well as the benefits she will receive for serving. please. look it over and talk to her, would you?"
you do.
it's an excellent proposal.
as the undercity figures out how it wants to self govern, piltover will fund zaun's public infrastructure as if it's their own-- meaning that the undercity will, practically overnight, have access to things like clean water. and schools. and welfare. they will provide these services for up to fifteen years as zaun finds it's footing.
the position outlined for sevika in piltover's council is a way to assure piltover doesn't back out of their promises-- that somebody is there to call them out when they try to cut corners in helping the young nation of zaun find it's footing.
and, while your wife might miss the more physical aspects of her old work, you can see her chewing out some stingy old councilors for their greed in your minds eye, and you can't help but smile.
"what're you smilin' about?" sevika asks.
you jump and slam the folder in front of you closed, blinking up at your wife.
she's back from her meeting with ran, scar and jericho. the four of them have grown close in these past few months as they coordinate rebuilding efforts for various neighborhoods across zaun. you have to gulp, trying not to get dizzy with the possibilities of what sevika's job offer means for them as a team. as team zaun.
"h-how was your meeting?" you ask. sevika raises an unimpressed eyebrow at you and you huff. she sinks across the table from you, easily pulling the folder out of your grasp.
"meeting was fine. the elementary school bein' built in firelight's territory is almost ready to open. first school in zaun." she says with a smile. "now, what were you smiling at?"
"i was approached by councilwoman shoola this afternoon."
sevika raises an eyebrow at you. "did you two try to build a chair this time?" she teases. you groan and kick her shin, before tapping the folder in her hands.
"no. i was asked to convince my stubborn-ass, incredibly loyal, strong, beautiful, hard-fucking-headed wife to join the fucking council."
sevika blinks. "what?"
"they want you in the new council. serving as an ambassador. to the free nation of zaun, sevika."
sevika blinks again, and then she rips the file open, her silver eyes flying across the confidential text. "the fr-- the free nation of zaun?" she asks, her eyes flying up to yours to confirm. you grin and nod.
sevika flies out of her seat and crawls across the dining room table to reach you, tears flowing down her cheeks as she kisses you like her life depends on it.
you're there when shoola and sevika finally sit down to discuss the opportunity. shoola's the first piltoverian to not turn her nose up at the messy state of your small home-- she even grins at the sound of jinx and isha bickering from their bedroom. "you two have made a lovely home for yourselves, here." she says, sitting down at the table and jumping a bit when a toy squeaks under her bum. "i can almost see the love leaking out of the wallpaper."
"could be black mold." you whisper. sevika and shoola both sputter surprised laughs.
"sevika. have you considered my proposal?" shoola asks.
sevika sighs and nods. "i have a few conditions before i agree." she says.
this surprises you. as if the prospect of representing a free zaun isn't tempting enough, you saw the salary sevika's being offered. it's the kind of money that could buy you a house big enough that all four of you could have your own bathrooms.
(secretly, though, you hope you live in a tiny house forever. you like tripping over your family-- being within reaching distance at all times.)
"first. i'd like you to assign me the budget to employ three of my trusted confidants as advisors. i can give you their identities if you'd like, but i give you my word that they're good peo--"
"done." shoola cuts sevika off, scribbling a quick note in her journal before looking back up at the pair of you with a smile. "what else?" she asks.
you smile a bit. sevika blinks, then gulps. "jinx and her little friend ekko get a full ride to the university up top. they're incredibly gifted, and with a little proper education they could advance zaun--"
"you don't have to convince me, i remember how the war went. without them, we'd all be dead. i can arrange that."
"i don't want to leave zaun. i can't represent these people if i'm not living here. i'll need a car to get--"
"would you like a personal vehicle or a driver each morning and evening?" shoola asks.
sevika blinks. "a-a driver." she says, a little shocked.
"anything else?" shoola asks.
sevika nods. "o-one last thing." she reaches over to grab your hand. you have no idea what she could possibly want beyond what she's asked for-- she's taken care of her friends, her family, and her transport.
"anything." shoola says. you think the woman might mean it.
sevika looks down at her lap and sighs. "we... we never really got married." she says. you blink, not at all understanding why she's telling the councilwoman this. "i mean... we had a party and we exchanged vows," she says, a smile tugging at her lips. you squeeze her hand and her eyes flick up to yours, before shyly darting away like you guys haven't been married for a decade now. like you guys don't have two kids together. "but we never... nobody gets married in zaun. 's expensive. the trip up to the justice is too far. and..." sevika gulps, her voice getting shaky as she looks back up at you. "and you're the reason i've fought so hard for our home in the first place." she whispers.
tears start to well up in your eyes and you let out a shaky laugh. "what, 're you proposing to me again?" you ask. sevika snorts and shakes her head before turning to shoola. the woman's drying her own tears.
"will you arrange to have us married? officially?"
"i'd be honored." shoola agrees.
the wedding is small and intimate, you and sevika, jinx and isha, vi, ran, scar, jericho, and shoola.
the councilwoman took you to a beautiful little garden a few blocks away from the council, and she married you, officially, as the sun set and your girls threw handfuls of confetti into the sky.
your whole party marches through the streets of piltover and back to zaun for the afterparty, councilwoman shoola laughing happily as you introduce her to the zaunite tradition of barcrawling.
each bar you enter, jericho happily announces that you and sevika have been freshly married. sevika, being the new spokeswoman of zaun, is quite the celebrity now. all of this is to say, you spend the night drinking many free drinks, hugging many drunk strangers, and kissing your wife on request about a thousand times.
it's the best night of your life.
taglist!
@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner
@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther
@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart
@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette
@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp
@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner
@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke
@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed
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off limits. ls18. smau.
lance stroll x alonso!reader
going to visit your uncle at work suddenly gets a whole lot more exciting when you meet his teammate
faceclaim: blanca padilla
y/nalonso posted a story
written: going somewhere very exciting today
y/nalonso posted a story tagging fernandoalo_oficial
written: that's right i'm meeting with uncle nando ahead of the spainish gp !
fernandoalo_oficial posted a story tagging y/nalonso
written: every home gp i am reminded of how grown up she is
f1updates
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f1updates: fernando and his niece y/n have arrived at the paddock for media day, y/n alonso is a model and she has been unable to attend the spainish gp ever since fernando re-joined the grid due to scheduling issues. we are so glad to see her back
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user1: omg she is so pretty
user2: fr real she is going to be turning some heads
user3: this makes me feel so old i remember her from when she was 11 with braces in the paddock
user4: they are icons
astonmartinupdates
liked by user5, user6, user7 and 25,284 others
astonmartinupdates: in case you missed it the funniest thing just happened. aston martin were on stage doing a Q and A with fans when lance pointed to this girl in the crowd and said "what about you pretty girl got any questions?" and she gagged him by replying, "not really i tend to just ask uncle nando any questions i have about racing" and lance's face fell
this man managed to pick y/n alonso out in the crowd and then flirt with her in front of her uncle and his TEAMMATE. he is never going to live this one down
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user5: no nando turning to lance and saying "hold on playboy that girl is off limits" had me dying
user6: i mean i can't blame him she is stunning
user7: i just know fernando proper shouted at him after that
user8: did anyone notice how y/n was blushing a little because girl same
y/nalonso posted a story
written: team colours for race day
fernandoalo_oficial replied to this story: the hotel i booked for you said you didn't check in is everything okay?
y/nalonso: yeah don't worry about me uncle nando i got drunk with flavy last night and stayed with her
lancestroll replied to your story: i think i should change careers and become a professional photographer
y/nalonso: is that so
lancestroll: maybe i just got lucky taking a picture of the prettiest girl
y/nalonso posted a story
written: oh how i have missed this
y/nalonso
liked by flavy.barla, lancestroll, fernandoalo_oficial and 583,383 others
tagged: fernandoalo_oficial. lancestroll.
y/nalonso: had the best time back in the paddock for the first time in six years
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flavy.barla: loved seeing you pretty girl
y/nalonso: was a much needed catch up
fernandoalo_oficial: you are going to need to come back soon
y/nalonso: i am planning on it
lancestroll: it was lovely meeting you y/n
y/nalonso: thank you for making sure i didn't get lost in the paddock
user9: the lance tag and comment, get in there lad
lancestroll posted a story
written: first half of the season done, bring on summer break
y/ninsta posted a story
written: date night
fernandoalo_oficial replied to this story: a date, with who
y/nalonso: you don't know him
lancestroll replied to this story: i am so fucking lucky
lancestroll posted a story
y/nalonso posted a story
lancestroll
liked by y/nalonso, fernandoalo_oficial, estebanocon and 1,002,283 others
tagged: y/nalonso
lancestroll: summer break with you is worth remembering
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y/nalonso: i love you so much
lancestroll: i love you too, even if you have a scary uncle
fernandoalo_oficial: if you hurt her, i hurt you
lancestroll: yes sir
user10: i wish i was there when fernando found out about this
user11: this is such a hot couple
user12: i love them so much already
ââ˘ÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇâ˘âĘ âĄ Éââ˘ÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇÂˇâ˘â
@bibissparkles
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#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 smau#f1 fandom#formula 1 smau#formula one smau#formula 1#formula one#f1 social media au#lance stroll#lance stroll smau#lance stroll x reader#lance stroll x you#lance stroll x y/n#lance stroll social media au#lance stroll fanfic#lance stroll fluff#aston martin f1#aston martin#aston martin racing
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âď¸Mild arcane spoilers âď¸
Miiight ruffle some feathers.
Not EVEN going to lie, unnecessary ship wars aside, the fan base has developed such a deep love and understanding for these characters (because letâs be honest, there are some pretty intelligent people giving eye opening analyses) that after the finale, it appears that we have a better understanding of them than the actual writers.
We deserved better as the audience after all the hype over the years, all the waiting, even after some episodes got leaked a while ago, most of us remained respectful and waited to see what this season would bring us. The core characters ABSOLUTELY deserved better as well.
It felt as if I was watching all of the charactersâ development be erased in real time, or become sidelined and nearly mute after being propped up to appear as if they were going to have a significant arc.
With the amount of episodes we had, it felt like they were trying to cram a bunch of different storylines into one 9 episode season and that left us with annoying plot holes and rushed sequences.
And Iâm just gonna say it.
If a certain relationship needed to be sacrificed if it meant that other characters had the proper development they needed and DESERVED, then I would have preferred that much, MUCH more than that undercooked finale.
Donât. Even. Get me started on that caitvi scene. In the cell? Right after that conversation she had with her sister? Donât give me that nonsense about how itâs vi reclaiming her power or something. (An actual weird ass statement from Amanda Overton in a Q&A video about how that was Vi reclaiming and working through her trauma in that cell).
No apology? No groveling for forgiveness? That little argument they had lasted like five seconds and didnât even address the earlier conflict that happened in the show after cait left vi. And before any of you say âcait apologized with her actionsâ
I donât care. Two things can be true at once, she can and should have apologized directly as well as displayed that with her actions.
Moving on to Mel??? We did not nearly have enough time to explore her new abilities as a mage, her armor, and her connection to the black rose. As I said, the storylines this season should have been more refined so we could focus on a central group of characters. They did nothing but hint at her armor from the end of season 1 all the way up until now.
Also maybe Iâm hallucinating, but did we ever find out what happened to the firelightâs tree?? Thatâs one of the main reasons Ekko and Heimerdinger went to the lab isnât it? HELLO?
Next on my list, Jinx. This girl has suffered to no end.
- Lost her whole family except for Vi.
- Almost died once and was brought back to life.
- Tried to end her life several more times
And you slap us all in the face by writing her off?
âOh but she may not be GONE gone, look at the glitching at the end!"
I. Donât. Care. Itâs the principle.
Iâm sick and tired of seeing characters that struggle with mental health and keep having one bad event after another happen to them, never receiving a proper ending. What messages are the writers sending with this? That death is basically the answer because thereâs no hope for them? Cool. That was not an honorable act of self sacrifice, that was plain insulting.
Instead, if they still really wanted to have a Jinx redemption arc and a chance to rekindle her relationship with Vi, having her tap into engineering for the betterment of Zaun would have been the better route.
We should have gotten an extra extended episode since this is last season for the Piltover/Zaun region, and for Jinx and Vi's story. I really want to blame Riot for being greedy and possibly becoming too cocky with the popularity of Arcane that they think anything would suffice because It's Arcane.
#riot got greedy#arcane#league of legends#arcane league of legends#arcane ambessa#ambessa medarda#mel medarda#arcane Mel#arcane jayce#jayce talis#viktor arcane#jinx arcane#vi arcane#vander arcane#Warwick#vi and caitlyn#caitlyn arcane#hextech#timebomb#arcane silco#young silco#arcane season 2#riot games#fortiche#arcane spoilers#arcane zaun#piltover#arcane act 3#arcane act three#arcane sevika
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I looked behind me at reflex, although I don't know what I was expecting, given the fact Disillusioned had said "invisible". Rather than some hideous creature, or nothing at all, I was met with the sight of Talon. I sighed. Right, of course.
I'd completely stopped thinking of Talon as a 'monster' over two decades ago, so he'd slipped my mind. Nobody else could see him, so I'd kind of forgotten that he'd look pretty scary to most others. Well, or sexy, depending on the person. Yuck. He had talons for fingers, like his name would suggest, with sharp claws rather than fingernails. He was 6'8 tall, give or take, with pitch black skin (or rather, short fur) that had red patterns on it like galaxies. Sharp teeth, somewhere between those of a shark and those of a vampire, and his eyes were as dark as his skin, with a silver iris in the middle of each of them.
Turning back to Disillusioned, I chuckled. "Oh. No, that's just Talon, he does whatever he wants. I guess I ask him for things sometimes but it's not my superpower. He's not even that helpful really."
I would've expected Talon to protest somehow, mock-offended, but he still seemed to be recovering from the surprise of someone else being able to see him. There was a slight smirk on his lips though, if you knew him well enough to be able to tell. His expressions were usually miniscule, but after living with him breathing down my neck for twenty-seven years, I'd learned to read them.
Disillusioned clearly wasn't expecting that. "Ah... so... why is he here?"
"Uh, complicated story.... he's kinda attached to me, so he just has to hang around until I die. We're friends though."
"Mmmm, I wouldn't go that far, little one. I'll help you out on occasion, for my amusement. Don't mistake that for friendship."
"Talon, I made you pancakes for breakfast yesterday and you put whipped cream on my nose. You have no ground to stand on."
Talon, wisely, kept his fanged mouth shut.
Disillusioned raised an eyebrow. "That's... certainly intriguing." He paused for a moment, before continuing. "I don't normally do this- I'm not supposed to, but.. if you're agreeable, I'm intrigued. Could we exchange number and arrange for a meet-up? I'd love to know more about Talon."
Talon howled with laughter as I fangirled, either uncaring or simply unused to the fact that Disillusioned could hear him. Disillusioned wanted to meet with me???! More than the meet-n-greet that I paid for???!
It took me much too long to finally stutter out a "yeah" that didn't sound nearly enthusiastic enough. Disillusioned chuckled, and wrote something on my arm. His number. Oh gods. When did he even get a pen?
"Uh, that's your fifteen minutes up, luv, but I'm looking forward to seeing you again... Casey, was it?"
"Ciji.", I said, dazed. A few minutes later, I realised I had not only just MET Disillusioned, but he wanted to meet ME. Granted, it was about Talon, but still.
!!!
(authors note- comment if you want a part two?)
âSo whatâs your power?â Said the all-seeing super-powered individual, âTelekinesisâ you said ââŚâŚâŚ.so itâs not the ability to order around the invisible monster that follows you around?â âThe fucking what?â
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Hop on.
pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader
summary: when your brotherâs bike breaks down, you turn to natasha´s shop for help, what starts as a simple repair leads to a whirlwind of teasing banter. sometimes, fixing a bike can lead to mending more than just machinery.
warnings: bike accident, but nothing horrible, then just FLUFF!!, mild teasing, brother being an ass hehe
word count: 8.9k
an: i wrote this a while ago, but i still really like this one a lot, so i hope you´ll do too:) also yes, i don´t know anything about bikes:D
"What can I help you with?" The receptionist asks, but noticing you´re worried look right away.
"Um⌠my brother, he- had an accident," you mumble out to her.
"Can you tell me your name, miss?" She looks down at her computer.
"(Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N)," you show her your ID.
The lady gives you the ID back, makes a few clicks and looks back at you, "he is in the room number seven."
You basically sprint there, slamming the door open, thankfully your brother was the only person in there. But the sight of him made you confused, he was sitting on the bed, smiling as usual, just few bruises on his face and a bandage oh his leg.
"Hey, sis," he makes the peace sign, while your heartbeat is going milions per seconds.
"Hey, sis?! Hey, sis?! What the hell?!" You walk up to him and smack him.
"Ouch! What was that for?" He scratches his head.
"What was- are you kidding me?" You pull out your phone, "25 minutes ago, I got this message from your friend: 'hey, don´t freak out, but your brother is going to the hospital, bike accident.' I rush here, committing like thirty-seven crimesâŚand you´re here smiling and saying 'hey, sis?!'"
"Oh⌠Kevin´s idiot," he shakes his head.
"No, you are! What the hell happened?!" You move your hands around.
"Can you just chill for a second? Jeez." He stratches, "We were riding, normally, but then one of the cars cut me off and I slipped. I´m fine, but bike was pretty fucked up." As he tells you the story of what´ve happened, you scan his face, obivously you´re glad he is okay, but deep down you´re angry that he still rides that thing.
"Are you sure you´re okay? You look down on his leg.
"Yeah, nothing that didn´t happened before. But uh⌠I need ride back home." He shifts in his position, even when he tries to mask it, he is still in some visible pain.
"I figured. Stay here, I´ll get someoneâŚ"
After two hours he is finally let out of the hospital, you help him into the passenger seat, careful not to jar his injured leg. As you close the door, you mutter, âI swear, one day that bike is going to be the death of you.â
He rolls his eyes as you start the car. âYou worry too much. Itâs not like I havenât crashed before.â
âYeah, and youâre still riding that death trap.â You grip the steering wheel tighter than necessary. âWhy do you even keep that thing? Itâs not like you can ride it anytime soon.â
He winces as he shifts in his seat, not meeting your gaze. âI just⌠I need it fixed, okay? Iâll be careful next time. Can you help me with that⌠pleaseee?
You let out a sigh. âYouâre lucky you didnât end up worse. Fine, Iâll take care of it, but youâre not driving that bike again until Iâm sure it wonât fall apart under you.â
âThanks, (Y/N),â he says, softer than before, like he knows you mean well even when youâre pissed. Heâs quiet for a moment, then adds, âYou know, thereâs a mechanic not far from here, Red Guardian.â
You nod, making a mental note. âIâll check it out. But you, mister, are on bed rest.â
"Aren´t you three years younger than me?"
You glance at him, "and yet I´m the smarter one, so bed it is."
âWhatever you say, mom.â
...
Two days later you finally arrive at Red Guardin, a place that looks far more organized than you expected for a bike shop. The sign is simple, but the place has a charm, just like youâd heard. You park your car and walk inside, the smell of oil and metal hitting you as you step through the door.
A woman with fiery red braided hair is leaning over a motorcycle, hands deep in the engine. She doesnât look up as she says, âBe with you in a sec.â
You clear your throat, trying not to be too obvious as you check her out. âUh, take your time.â
She straightens up, wiping her hands on a rag before turning to face you. Her green eyes meet yours, and she gives you a small, confident smirk. âWhat can I do for you?â
âIâm here about my brotherâs bike,â you start, but she cuts you off.
âYour brother? The guy who got cut off and ended up in the hospital?â She chuckles lightly, shaking her head. âYeah, I heard about him. Of what I´ve heard that bikeâs a mess, but there is nothing I can´t fix.â
You blink, a little taken aback. âYou already know about it?â
âWord travels fast in this town,â Natasha replies, that teasing smile still on her lips. âPlus, your brotherâs been in here before. Heâs not exactly subtle.â
You roll your eyes. âOf course. He didnât tell me that part.â
âSo, whereâs the patient?â Natasha smiles as she takes some gloves.
You fumble with your words for a moment, feeling a little awkward. âUh, itâs in my car. Or, well, in the truck bed."
You lead her outside to where you´re parked. Natasha walks around it, examining the damage with a critical eye. Sheâs quiet for a moment, then looks over at you. âWell, the frameâs a little bent, and the engineâs definitely seen better days. But itâs not totaled. I can fix this.â
You nod, relieved. âThank God. I had no idea what to do. I mean, I know a bike has wheels, an engine, and all that, but thatâs where my knowledge ends.â
Natasha gives you a teasing smile. âGood thing you came to the right place. Iâll need to take it inside and get a closer look. Mind helping me unload it?â
You quickly agree, and the two of you start unstrapping the bike. Natasha shows you where to hold it and how to carefully lower it down. As you work together, she starts explaining what sheâs looking for.
âSee this here?â she says, pointing to a section of the frame. âItâs bent, but not too badly. Iâll have to realign it, though. And this,â she taps the engine, âwill need a rebuild. Your brotherâs lucky it didnât crack.â
You listen intently, trying to follow along even though most of what sheâs saying goes over your head. Natasha notices your blank expression and laughs softly. âDonât worry, Iâll take care of it. By the time Iâm done, itâll be good as new.â
You canât help but smile at how confident she is. âThanks," you look down for a name tag, but there isn´t one,
"It´s Natasha," she smiles.
You nod, "Natasha, I really appreciate it. My brother would lose his mind if he thought he couldnât ride again.â
She gives you a quick wink. âNo problem. Iâm used to fixing things, especially when they mean a lot to someone.â
Thereâs a warmth in her voice that makes your heart skip a beat. You swallow nervously, trying to focus on the bike and not the way Natasha is looking at you with that confident, playful smirk.
You´re glad that you found the right place.
âŚ
As you pull up to your house, the sun already dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the yard. As you step inside, your brother is lounging on the couch, leg propped up on a stack of pillows, flipping through channels on the TV. He looks up as you walk in, his eyes narrowing in concern.
âWell?â he asks, cutting straight to the point. âIs it fixable? Am I ever going to ride again?â
You set your bag down and kick off your shoes, feeling the dayâs tension start to melt away. âNatasha said itâs fixable, but itâll take some time. The frameâs bent, and the engine needs a rebuild. But sheâs confident she can get it back in shape.â You repeat what she told you earlier.
He visibly relaxes, âNatasha is fixing it? Good. I was worried itâd be a total loss."
âYeah, well, you got lucky,â you say, crossing your arms as you lean against the doorway. âYouâre not exactly gentle on that thing.â
He scoffs. âItâs a bike, not a porcelain doll. Itâs meant to be ridden hard.â
You roll your eyes. âAnd thatâs why youâre here, with a busted leg, instead of out riding. You should really be more careful.â
He shoots you a teasing grin. âYou sound like mom agan.â
âSomeone has to, since you clearly donât listen at all.â
He chuckles, then winces as he adjusts his leg. âOkay, okay, point taken. But when it will be ready?â
Your expression softening. âNatasha said sheâll have it back to you in no time. She knows what sheâs doing. Itâll be like newâmaybe even better.â
He sighs, relief washing over his features. âGreat-" you cut him off.
"You´ll take it easy when you get back on the road. No more stunts, no more pushing your luck. You got off easy this time, but next time you might not be so lucky.â
He rolls his eyes but nods. âYeah, yeah. Iâll be careful.â
âI mean it!â you say, your tone firm but caring. âI donât want to get another call like that.â
His teasing expression fades, and he nods more seriously. âI know. Iâll be careful. Promise.â
You give him a small smile, reaching over to mess up his hair. âGood. Now, get some rest."
"I will, but can you promise you will check on the bike, when you can?" He gives you the best innocent look he possibly can.
"I will check it out tomorrow after work." You nod.
âThanks, sis. I owe you one.â
âYeah, you do,â you reply, âand donât forget it.â
As you walk away, you hear him mutter, âI wonât!â
âŚ
The next day, you find yourself back at the shop, unable to shake the feeling of curiosity or maybe itâs something else entirely, that pulls you there. The familiar scent of motor oil and metal greets you as you step inside. Natasha is already hard at work, leaning over a bike with her back to you, her hands moving expertly as she adjusts something under the engine. You can´t help, but stare. Her toned hands are someting you can definetly look at forever.
She glances up as you approach, a smirk playing on her lips when she sees you basically drooling. âBack again? You know, most people donât check in this often. Are you here to make sure Iâm actually working?â
You snap back out of your thoughts, shaking your head. âNo, nothing like that. My brotherâs just obsessed with that bike. Heâs convinced it needs constant check-ups or itâll fall apart. Honestly, he probably cares about it more than is healthy.â
Natasha straightens up, wiping her hands on a rag as she walks over to you, a teasing glint in her eye. âSounds like a lot of work, keeping up with all those concerns. You know, I could make it easier for youâŚâ
âOh?â you reply, raising an eyebrow. âAnd how exactly would you do that?â
She leans casually against the counter, that familiar smirk tugging at her lips. âI could give you my number. That way, you can check in on the bike whenever you or your brother want. Get updates straight from the source.â
You laugh, feeling a little flustered by how smooth she is. âRight, for the bike.â
âOf course, for the bike,â Natasha says, her voice dripping with playful innocence, though the mischievous sparkle in her eyes tells you sheâs enjoying this. She pulls her phone from her pocket, handing it to you. âHere, you can add your number.â
You take her phone, typing in your contact details, and then you pause. Instead of handing it back, you grin and ring yourself right away.
Natasha chuckles, clearly impressed. She takes her phone back and glances at the screen. Her expression shifts into one of amused surprise when she sees what youâve entered. âFinally, I get to know your name. Pleasure to meet you officially, (Y/N).â
You feel your cheeks warm slightly as she says your name, her voice low and smooth.
She grins, leaning in just a bit closer, her voice dropping to a softer tone. âWell, I like to take my time with the important things. So tell you brother it will take some time, just to make sure his bike is ready for his awful riding."
You swallow, trying not to get too flustered under her gaze. âI´ll tell him that." You nod.
With one last shared look, you turn to leave, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nerves. As you step out of the shop, your phone buzzes. You glance down to see a new text from Natasha: âJust in case you need another excuse to visit. See you soon, (Y/N).â
You canât help but smile as you tuck your phone back into your pocket, already looking forward to the next visit.
...
Over the next few days, you find yourself returning to the shop more often than youâd care to admit. At first, itâs just to check on the bike, of course, but then you don´t even care to hide, that there is one more, bigger reason to come into the shop.
One afternoon, she catches you watching her as she tightens a bolt on the engine. âYou know, youâre here enough that I should put you to work.â
You laugh. âI wouldnât even know where to start.â
She gives you her usual smirk. âI could show you. How about a crash course in motorcycle basics?â Before you can protest, sheâs grabbing a helmet off the wall and tossing it to you. âHere, put this on.â
âWait, what? I donât even know how to ride.â
âDonât worry,â she says, her voice low and teasing. âIâll take care of you.â
"I- won´t this get you into a trouble?" You frown a bit.
"My dad owns the shop, I think I´ll be fine." You feel your cheeks heat up as you put on the helmet. Natasha swings a leg over the bike, patting the seat behind her. âHop on.â
You hesitate for just a moment before climbing on, wrapping your arms around her waist. She revs the engine, the sound vibrating through you as she takes off, the wind whipping past your face. Sheâs almost intoxicating at everything she does.
When she finally stops back in the parking lot next to the shop, your heart is racing for more reasons than one. Natasha turns to look at you over her shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief. âNot bad for a first ride, huh?â
You canât help but smile. âNot bad at all.â
Natasha swings her leg over the bike, smoothly dismounting and turning to face you. Ugh the stupid smirk on her pretty face. âYou handled yourself pretty well back there. I think youâve got some natural talent.â She helps you take off the helmet.
You laugh, still feeling the rush of the wind and the hum of the engine. âI was just trying not to fall off. But Iâll take the compliment.â
She steps closer, close enough that you can feel her parfume mixed with oil from the repairs. âYou know, riding isnât just about holding on. Itâs about trust. Trusting the bike, trusting yourself⌠and maybe trusting the person in front of you.â
Your breath catches slightly at her words, and you realize sheâs no longer just talking about riding. You meet her eyes, and thereâs a tension between you, a pull thatâs hard to ignore. âI guess I did trust you back there.â
Natashaâs smirk widens, and she tilts her head, studying you with a gaze that feels like itâs seeing right through you. âGood. I like that.â
You try to steady your breathing, but itâs difficult with her standing so close. âDo you do this with all your clients?â
She chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends a shiver down your spine. âI donât take just anyone for a ride, (Y/N). Consider yourself special.â
The way she says your name makes your heart skip a beat. Thereâs a moment of a silence between you, making you aware of how close she is, how her eyes seem to linger on yours, searching for something.
Natashaâs gaze flickers to your lips for the briefest moment, and your breath hitches. âYou know,â she says softly, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone, âthereâs a lot more I could show you. If youâre interested.â
Your pulse quickens, a mix of nerves and anticipation coursing through you. The air between you feels charged, every second stretching out as you weigh her words. You know sheâs definetly not just talking about bikes anymore, and the realization sends a thrill through you.
âI think Iâm interested,â you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.
Natashaâs smile deepens, her eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. âGood.â She steps even closer, her presence almost overwhelming now. âBecause I donât do half-measures, (Y/N). If youâre in, youâre all in.â
You feel a nervous flutter in your stomach, but itâs not enough to hold you back. âI think I can handle that.â
Her eyes darken slightly, her voice taking on a more serious note. âAre you sure? Because once we start, I donât plan on stopping.â
The intensity of her words makes your heart race, but you donât back down. Instead, you meet her gaze head-on, the challenge in her eyes only spurring you on. âIâm sure, Natasha.â
For a heartbeat, neither of you moves, the tension between you almost unbearable. Then, as if making a decision, Natasha leans in, her hand brushing lightly against your arm. The touch is brief but electric, sending a jolt through you.
âGlad to hear it,â she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin
Before you can respond, Natasha finally pulls back, though the look in her eyes tells you that this is far from over. She glances at the bike, then back at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. âYou should head home. I wouldnât want to keep you out too late⌠this time.â
You let out a breath you didnât realize you were holding, nodding. âRight. I should⌠probably get going.â
âProbably,â she agrees, though thereâs a teasing edge to her voice that makes it clear she wouldnât mind if you stayed longer.
As you walk back to your car, Natasha watches you with that same unreadable expression, like sheâs already planning the next move. You reach your car door, pausing to glance back at her. âSo⌠Iâll come check on the bike tomorrow same time?â
Natasha crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe of the shop, her smile turning into something almost predatory. âI´m counting on it, (Y/N).â
You give her a small smile in return, feeling that same mixture of excitement and nerves bubbling up inside you. As you start the car and pull away, you canât help but glance at her going inside the shop once more.
The cool night air feels refreshing on your flushed cheeks as you step out of the car going back home, the smile on your face almost impossible to hide. As you approach the front door, you take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. But the excitement from the evening is still buzzing inside you, making it hard to calm the butterflies in your stomach.
When you walk inside, your brother is sprawled out on the couch again, a half-empty bag of chips beside him and a game paused on the TV. He looks up as you close the door behind you, eyebrows lifting in surprise. âYouâre home late,â he remarks, his voice dripping with curiosity. âWhatâs got you all smiley?â
You pause, trying to wipe the grin off your face, but itâs no use. âOh, nothing,â you say, attempting nonchalance as you shrug out of your jacket and hang it up. âJust, you know⌠checking on your bike.â
He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your casual tone. âUh-huh. And since when does checking on my bike make you look like you just won the lottery?â
You shoot him a look, but itâs playful, and he knows it. âSince today, apparently.â
He narrows his eyes at you, sitting up a bit straighter. âOkay, spill. What happened?â
You hesitate for a moment, debating how much to tell him. But then you decide itâs harmless enough. âWell⌠I rode it, you know a test ride I assume.â
He blinks, clearly not expecting that. âWait, what? You rode my bike? The same bike youâve always refused to even sit on?â
You nod, trying to keep your voice steady. âYeah. Natasha let me try it out.â
His expression shifts, realization dawning as a smirk spreads across his face. âNatasha, huh? So, you finally decided to take the plunge⌠because she asked?â
You roll your eyes, but thereâs no hiding the blush that creeps up your neck. âItâs not like that.â
âOh, sure itâs not,â he says, leaning back with a smug grin. âYou always said no to me, no matter how many times I tried to get you on that bike. But one pretty redhead asks, and suddenly youâre Evel Knievel.â
You try to play it cool, but you canât help the smile that slips out. âWell, she made a good case. And besides, you know how scared I am.â
He laughs, shaking his head. âYeah, so scared until Natasha Romanoff turns on the charm. I see how it is.â
You grab a throw pillow and toss it at him, but he catches it easily, still grinning. âShut up.â
He throws the pillow back, missing you by an inch. âHey, no judgment here. Iâm just saying, I knew something was up when you walked in all smiley. I didnât expect it to be this, though.â
You shake your head, trying to suppress your own laughter. âYouâre impossible, you know that?â
âYep,â he says proudly, then adds with a wink, âSo, whenâs the next âcheck-upâ on my bike?â
You roll your eyes again, but you canât help the small smile that lingers on your lips. âGoodnight, dork,â you say, turning to head toward your room.
âGoodnight, bike thief,â he calls after you, his voice filled with playful teasing.
As you close your bedroom door behind you, you lean against it for a moment, your smile growing even wider. Just as youâre about to lay in bed and snuggle with your blanket, your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a notification.
You reach over and grab it, your heart skipping a beat when you see who the message is from.
Natasha: Hope you didnât get into trouble for coming home so late. Wouldnât want to get you grounded ;)
You canât help but smile at the playful tone in her text.
You quickly type out a reply: No, just had to endure a bit of teasing. My brother thinks heâs hilarious.
You hit send, still smiling as you stare at your phone, waiting to see if sheâll reply. It doesnât take long before your phone buzzes again.
Natasha: Sounds like heâs got a good sense of humor. Heâs probably just jealous you rode his bike.
Your smile widens as you think about her words, and the memory of the ride flashes in your mind. The wind, the speed, the way Natashaâs laughter had echoed in the air, it had been more fun than you ever expected. You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you type your response.
You type out: Maybe. But I think it was more because of the company than the ride.
Thereâs a pause, and for a moment, you wonder if you were too forward. But then your phone buzzes again, and Natashaâs reply makes your heart flutter.
Natasha: I was hoping youâd say that. Maybe next time, we can make the ride even more interesting.
You bite your lip, trying to keep your giddy excitement in check. Thereâs something intoxicating about the way she flirts, the way she effortlessly mixes teasing with sincerity. You decide to match her energy, your fingers dancing across the screen as you craft your response.
You: Iâm all for interesting;)
A few seconds pass before her next message arrives.
Natasha: Challenge accepted, (Y/N). Sweet dreams.
You grin at the screen, feeling a warm, fuzzy sensation spread through your chest.
You: Goodnight, Natasha.
You set your phone down and curl up under the covers, still smiling as you think about her last text. The excitement from the evening lingers as you drift off to sleep. Whatever happens next, youâre ready for it.
âŚ
A couple of days have passed since you lastly check up on the bike, some work got stuck up and you weren´t able to see Natasha as much as you´d like. Thanfuly the texting between you and Natasha has only gotten more frequent, filled with light-hearted banter, playful teasing, and the occasional flirty remark.
Then, one evening, just as youâre settling down after dinner, your phone buzzes with a new message. You pick it up, your heart doing that now familiar little flip when you see Natashaâs name on the screen.
Natasha: So, I was thinking⌠how about we do something that doesnât involve bikes this weekend?
You blink at the screen, your pulse quickening. Itâs not exactly a date invitation, but itâs close enough that your mind immediately starts racing.
You: What do you have in mind?
Her reply comes almost instantly.
Natasha: I know a nice spot for dinner. How does Friday sound?
Your stomach flips with excitement. This is definitely a date. You type back before you can overthink it.
You: Friday sounds perfect.
Natasha: Great. Iâll pick you up at 7.
You stare at the screen, a grin spreading across your face. A date. With Natasha. Suddenly, Friday canât come fast enough.
âŚ
When Friday finally arrives, youâre a bundle of nerves and excitement. By late afternoon, youâre standing in front of your closet, pulling out outfits and discarding them almost as quickly. Nothing seems right - too casual, too dressy, not âyouâ enough. You groan in frustration, tossing yet another dress onto the bed.
âUh⌠whatâs going on in here?â your brotherâs voice cuts through your frantic search, and you turn to see him leaning in the doorway, arms crossed and a smirk on his face.
"Shouldn´t you be in bed?" You look at his leg.
He shakes his head, "what´s all of this?" Your brother nods towards the mess in your room.
âNothing,â you mutter, but your flushed cheeks and the mess of clothes around you betray the truth.
âDoesnât look like nothing,â he says, hopping into the room and picking up a discarded top. âWho are you getting all dressed up for?â
You hesitate, then sigh, realizing thereâs no use hiding it. âNatasha invited me to dinner. Sheâs picking me up in an hour.â
His eyes widen in surprise, then narrow as a grin spreads across his face. âNatasha? Oooo (Y/N) has a date, (Y/N) has a date!"
You nod, biting your lip as you rifle through your clothes again. âYeah. So, I need to find something that says âdate,â but not âtrying too hard.ââ
He chuckles, clearly enjoying this. âWow, you must really like her if youâre this worked up.â
You huff, grabbing a simple but flattering top that you havenât worn in a while. âMaybe I do. But itâs just⌠I donât know, I want it to be perfect, you know?â
He watches you for a moment, then his teasing demeanor softens. âYouâll look great, no matter what you wear. Just be yourself, and sheâll be into it.â
You pause, then smile gratefully at him. âThanks.â
"But don´t wear that," he points at the top you´re holding, "take the black shirt over there." He chuckles.
You roll your eyes, but to be honest you´re really glad, that you have your brother there, to ease your nerves. When you look in the mirror, you feel a little more confident. You can do this.
Right on time, there´s a buzz from your phone. You grab your purse, take a deep breath, and head downstairs. Your brother, ever the nosy one, is already at the window, peeking through the curtains. âYour rideâs here,â he says, smirking. âAnd I gotta say, she cleans up nice.â
You roll your eyes at him but feel your pulse quicken as you reach the door. Sure enough, when you step outside, Natasha is waiting for you, leaning casually against a car. But tonight, sheâs swapped out her usual work clothes for something a little more polished - dark jeans, a fitted leather jacket over a crisp shirt, and boots that complete the look. The sight of her takes your breath away.
âWow,â you manage to say as you walk up to her. âItâs nice to see you in something other than grease-stained coveralls.â
Natasha grins, her eyes sweeping over you appreciatively. âYou look pretty well yourself. But donât get too used to this, Iâm usually more comfortable getting my hands dirty.â
You chuckle, feeling the tension ease a bit. âI like both looks.â
She steps closer, her gaze warm as it meets yours. âGood to know. Ready for dinner?â
âDefinitely,â you reply nervously.
As she opens the passenger door for you, she suddenly glances over your shoulder and smirks. âLooks like we have an audience.â
You glance back to see your brother peeking out from behind the curtains, grinning like an idiot. He gives you a thumbs up, then waves cheekily at Natasha, who waves back with a teasing smile.
âSorry about him,â you say, feeling your cheeks heat up as you climb into the car. âHeâs⌠enthusiastic.â
Natasha just laughs as she slides into the driverâs seat. âHeâs alright. At least he approves.â
âYeah, well, heâs probably just happy Iâm not yelling at him for riding that bike,â you reply with a grin.
As Natasha starts the car and pulls away from the house, she glances over at you, her voice taking on a playful tone. âGuess Iâll just have to make sure this date is worth the teasing youâre going to get when you get home.â
You meet her gaze, feeling the spark between you light up again. âIâm sure it will be.â
Natasha drives you to a cozy restaurant that youâve never been to before. Itâs the kind of place that doesnât try too hard but still manages to be effortlessly charming. She leads you to a table by the window, where the view of the city lights adds a romantic touch to the evening. After youâre both seated, Natasha gives the server a nod, clearly a regular here, and within moments, two glasses of wine are placed in front of you.
âDo you come here often?â you ask, taking a sip.
âEvery now and then,â Natasha replies with a shrug. âItâs one of those hidden gems. Not too crowded, good food, great wine. Figured itâd be a good spot to⌠get to know each other better.â
You smile, appreciating her thoughtfulness. âItâs perfect. And I agree, itâs definitely got a vibe.â
Natasha leans back in her chair, her gaze settling on you. âSo, what else should I know about you, besides the fact that youâre fiercely protective of your brother and apparently a quick learner when it comes to riding bikes?â
You laugh, feeling a little more at ease. âWell, I donât usually make a habit of riding bikes. That was⌠a first for me.â
Her eyes glint with amusement. âIâm honored to be your first, then.â
You feel a blush creep up your neck but decide to match her playful tone. âWhat about you? I know youâre amazing with bikes, but what else is there to know about Natasha Romanoff?â
She takes a sip of her wine, her expression thoughtful. âWell, I wasnât always a mechanic. Iâve had a few different jobs over the years, but Iâve always liked working with my hands. Thereâs something satisfying about taking something broken and making it whole again.â
âDid you grow up around bikes?â you ask, genuinely curious.
âSort of,â she says, a small smile playing on her lips, "my father worked on bikes since I can remeber, but I learned a lot on my own, picked up skills along the way and after some years I was kinda stuck with it in his shop."
You nod, sensing thereâs more to her story than sheâs letting on, but you donât push. âI get that. Iâve never been big into them, but I can see the appeal. The way you talked about them, showed me around your shop⌠it made me see them differently.â
Natashaâs gaze softens, and for a moment, the teasing edge in her eyes fades. âLess scary? Iâm glad I could share that with you. I donât usually open up about that stuff with just anyone.â
You nod, feeling comfortable and curious about discovering who Natasha really is, beyond the confident, flirty exterior.
âSo,â Natasha says, breaking the silence with a smirk, âI have to ask⌠what made you say yes to this? I mean, I know Iâm irresistible, but stillâŚâ
You laugh, shaking your head. âYouâre definitely confident, Iâll give you that. But honestly? Itâs because youâre⌠different. Not what I expected, in a good way.â
Her smirk softens into a genuine smile. âIâm glad to hear that. I was hoping I didnât scare you off with the whole âletâs ride a bike togetherâ thing.â
âNot at all,â you say, meeting her gaze. âIn fact, I think thatâs what intrigued me the most. You challenge me, in a way thatâs exciting. And I like that.â
Natasha holds your gaze, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away. âGood,â she says quietly. âBecause I like it too.â
As the evening progresses, with ordered food, the conversation flows effortlessly. You talk about your lives, your families, your dreams - sharing stories that are both funny and revealing. Natasha opens up about her past, hinting at the difficulties she faced growing up, while you share some of your own challenges. Thereâs a comfort in the way you can both be honest with each other, even if not every detail is fully revealed.
At one point, the conversation turns to your brother, and Natasha leans in, clearly curious. âSo, whatâs the deal with you and your brother? You two seem pretty close.â
You smile fondly. âWe are. Heâs a pain sometimes, but heâs my best friend. Weâve been through a lot together, and heâs always had my back.â
Natasha nods, her expression softening. âSounds like youâve got a good thing going. Not everyoneâs lucky enough to have that kind of bond.â
You nod. âYeah, Iâm grateful for him. And it looks like he likes you, so."
Natasha grins, the playful spark returning to her eyes. 'Well, thatâs a relief. I wouldnât want to get on his bad side, though I think a 50% voucher to the shop might earn me some bonus points with him.
You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. âDon´t worry, youâre in his good books. You ride a bike and you know everything about it, plus the voucher sounds amazing. Trust me, I´m the one who is on thin line here. Heâs already convinced Iâve got a crush on you anyways, soâŚâ You talk faster than you think.
Natasha arches an eyebrow, leaning closer. âAnd do you?â
You hesitate, but only for a second. âMaybe I do.â
Her smile widens, a mixture of satisfaction and warmth. âI´ll take a maybe." You take another sip of wine, your heart racing in the best way possible.
Eventually, the dinner plates are cleared, and the conversation winds down. Natasha pays the bill, despite your protests, and then youâre back in the car, driving through the quiet streets. The tension that filled the air earlier has softened into something more comfortable, more familiar.
When she pulls up to your house, she turns to you with that mischievous smile that makes your pulse quicken. âSo, did I live up to your expectations?â
You smile back, unbuckling your seatbelt. âMore than that.â
She chuckles, clearly pleased. âGlad to hear it. Iâll see you soon?â
You nod, biting your lip. âDefinitely. And I´m paying next time!â
"I don´t think you will, but it´s cute that you´re figting for it." Natasha chuckles.
Before you can overthink it, you lean in and kiss her cheek, lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of her skin. When you pull back, her eyes are sparkling, and thereâs a pleased smile on her lips.
âGoodnight, Natasha,â you say softly, stepping out of the car. Even though the inside of your brain is just a big mess and your body is full of butterlfies that are buzzing through your body.
âGoodnight, (Y/N),â she replies, watching every step of yours. You walk up to your front door, you glance back and see your brother peeking through the window again, grinning like a fool. You roll your eyes but canât help smiling as you give him a little wave before stepping inside. As soon as you close the front door your brother is standing in the hallway, arms crossed, with a grin that can only be described as infuriatingly smug.
âSoâŚâ he starts, drawing out the word with a mischievous glint in his eyes. âHow was it?â
You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool as you kick off your shoes. âHow was what?â
He snorts, clearly not buying your act. âThe date. You know, the one you spent an hour agonizing over an outfit for? The one with the gorgeous redhead who just dropped you off?â
You feel your cheeks heat up, but you maintain a casual tone. âIt was fine. We had dinner, talked⌠no big deal.â
âOh, sure,â he says, nodding along in exaggerated agreement. âNo big deal at all. Thatâs why youâve got that goofy smile plastered on your face.â
You try to suppress your grin, but itâs no use. âOkay, fine. It was⌠great. Happy?â
âVery,â he says with a smirk. âBut I need details. What did you guys talk about? Did she kiss you? Are you two going on another date?â
You laugh, shaking your head at his barrage of questions. âSlow down, detective. We just had a nice dinner and got to know each other better. And yes, weâre definitely going to see each other again.â
He raises an eyebrow. âNo kiss, though?â
You pause, remembering the kiss you gave Natasha on the cheek before you got out of the car. âI´m not gonna discuss that with you."
âSo that´s a yes. Ha! I knew it!â He points at you triumphantly. âSo you like her. Like, really like her.â
âOkay, okay, yes, I do,â you finally admit, exasperated but still smiling. âBut you donât have to make a big deal out of it.â
âOh, but it is a big deal,â he says, leaning against the wall with a grin.
âYouâve never looked this happy after a date. Iâm telling you, this Natasha is something special.â
You bite your lip, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. âYeah⌠she really is.â
He watches you for a moment, his teasing grin softening into something more sincere. âIâm glad, you know. You deserve someone who makes you smile like that.â
You blink, a little taken aback by his unexpected seriousness. âThanks, that means a lot.â
âDonât get too mushy on me now,â he teases, but thereâs warmth in his eyes. âJust⌠if she hurts you, Iâll break her bike.â
You laugh, shaking your head. âI think sheâd rather face anything else than that.â
âDamn right,â he says with a chuckle. âBut seriously, Iâm happy for you, sis. Just remember, I still expect you to help me with my bike.â
âYeah, yeah,â you reply, waving him off. âNow, if youâll excuse me, Iâm going to bed.â
âSure, go dream about your redhead,â he calls after you as you head up the stairs.
You roll your eyes but canât help the smile that spreads across your face as you think about Natasha.
âŚ
Itâs early, the sun barely peeking over the horizon as you arrive at Natashaâs shop. The garage door is partially open, you push it up and step inside, where you find Natasha already at work on a different bike. Sheâs focused, her hands busy, but when she sees you, her expression brightens instantly.
âHey, didnât expect you so early,â she says, wiping her hands on a rag before tossing it aside as always. Thereâs a faint grease stain on her cheek, adding to her usual rugged charm.
You shrug, trying to appear casual despite the flutter in your chest. âI figured Iâd take you up on your offer. Plus, I wanted to see how the bikeâs coming along, of course.â
Natasha grins, nodding toward your brotherâs bike. âYour brotherâs baby is coming together nicely. A few more tweaks, and itâll be as good as new.â
You walk over to examine the bike, but your attention keeps drifting back to Natasha. The shop is quieter than usual. As Natasha finishes up what sheâs doing, you lean against the workbench, watching her with a mix of admiration and something deeper. She catches your gaze and raises an eyebrow. âSomething on your mind?â
You bite your lip, then decide to be bold. âYou know, Iâve been thinking about that ride we took⌠and how you said you donât take just anyone out.â
She steps closer, intrigued. âOh yeah? What about it?â
You smile, heart pounding. âI was wondering if thatâs still true.â
Natasha chuckles, the sound low and warm, as she moves closer still. âI wasnât lying when I said you were special, (Y/N). But whatâs really on your mind?â
Thereâs a pause, a moment where you´re trying to calm your thoughts. You look up at her, realizing how close sheâs standing, close enough that you can smell the faint scent of oil.
Then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you say quietly, âI think you know.â
For a split second, Natashaâs confident facade wavers, replaced by something more vulnerable. But then she smirks, closing the distance between you with a deliberate slowness that sends a thrill through you. âYou sure about this?â she asks softly, her voice a low murmur that makes your breath catch.
You nod, eyes locked on hers. âYeah. Iâm sure.â
And with that, Natasha leans in, her lips brushing yours in a soft, tentative kiss. Itâs gentle at first, testing the waters, but the moment your lips meet, itâs like a spark ignites. The kiss deepens, turning into something more intense, filled with all the unspoken tension and longing thatâs been building between you this whole time.
Natasha lingers close, her forehead resting gently against yours, a smile playing on her lips. But then she pulls back just slightly, glancing down at her hands still resting on your waist. âI should stop before I get grease on you,â she murmurs, her voice teasing but with a hint of genuine concern.
You glance down at her hands, noticing the faint smudges of oil and grease, and canât help but laugh softly. âA little grease never hurt anyone,â you reply, feeling warm all over, both from the kiss and from the way sheâs looking at you.
Natasha chuckles, giving you a playful grin. âTrue, but I donât want to mess up your clothes. You look too good for that.â
You roll your eyes affectionately, feeling a flutter in your chest at the compliment. âSo do you, grease and all.â
She smiles wider, the expression softening into something tender as she gently brushes a thumb along your jaw, careful not to smudge any grease. âYouâre something else, you know that?â
âIs that a good thing?â you tease, leaning into her touch
âDefinitely a good thing,â she replies, her voice low and warm. Thereâs a comfortable silence, where the weight of the moment sinks in. But Natasha, being who she is, breaks it with a playful grin. âSo, does this mean I get to take you on another ride?â
You laugh, leaning up to kiss her cheek. âAs long as we make some more stops like this one.â
She chuckles, pulling you in for another quick kiss, this one softer, sweeter. âDeal.â
Just as youâre savoring the warmth of the moment, the shop bell jingles, signaling the arrival of a customer. Natasha glances over her shoulder, then back at you with a smirk. âLooks like Iâve got work to do.â
Before she steps away, she gives your waist a quick, playful squeeze, leaning in close to murmur, âIâll be with you in a second, (Y/N). Donât go anywhere.â Her tone is teasing, but thereâs an underlying softness that makes your heart flutter.
With one last lingering look, she turns to greet the customer, her demeanor shifting effortlessly into professional mode. The customer, a man who looks like heâs in his mid-40s, nods at Natasha, holding a small bike that clearly needs some work. âMorning. Got a bit of a problem with my kidâs bike here.â
âNo problem,â Natasha says, flashing him that easy smile. âLet me take a look.â
As she moves to inspect the bike, you canât help but notice how her muscles flex with every movement, her toned arms and back on full display as she lifts the bike onto the workbench. She handles the machine with practiced ease, her focus entirely on diagnosing the issue. You watch, a little mesmerized by the way she worksâeffortless, strong, and undeniably attractive.
Itâs only when Natasha finishes up with the customer that you realize youâve been staring the entire time. She thanks the man and sees him off, then turns back to you, a mischievous glint in her eye.
Catching the look on your face, she strides over, a teasing grin spreading across her lips. âNeed me to grab you a rag for that drool?â she asks, leaning against the workbench with her arms crossed, clearly enjoying your flustered state.
You feel your cheeks flush with heat, but you manage to keep your composure. âI wasnât drooling,â you protest, though the smile tugging at your lips gives you away.
Natasha steps closer, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. âSure you werenât.â She reaches out to gently tap your chin with her finger, her eyes sparkling with amusement. âBut just in case, Iâll keep a rag handy for next time.â
You laugh, swatting her hand away lightly. "Ha ha ha, funny."
Natasha grins, clearly pleased with herself. âWhat can I say? Iâm good at observing poeple.â
You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face doesnât fade. âYouâre also good at being a tease.â
âGuilty as charged,â she admits, her gaze never leaving yours. Thereâs a moment where the teasing drops, replaced by something softer, more sincere. âBut seriously, I like seeing you here.â
Your heart skips a beat at the sudden shift in her tone. âYeah?â
âYeah,â she says, her voice quieter now, more intimate. âMakes my day a little better.â
You frown playfully, "just a little better?"
She makes your chest tighten in the best way, "maybe a lot more than a little actually." Before you can respond, Natasha leans in, her breath warm against your cheek as she says, âYou know, if you keep looking at me like that, I might have to kiss you again.â
Your breath catches, and you look up at her, eyes wide. âIs that a threat?â
âMore like a promise,â she whispers back, her lips curving into a slow smile.
You feel a rush of warmth flood through you, and without thinking, you close the gap, pressing your lips to hers in a kiss thatâs tender, sweet. Natasha responds immediately, pulling you closer, her hands firm on your waist.
When you finally break apart, youâre both a little breathless, and Natashaâs smile is brighter than ever. âNow thatâs how you shut me up,â she jokes, her voice still soft, tinged with affection.
You laugh, feeling light, like youâre floating. âIâll keep that in mind for next time.â
Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out to see a message from your brother: âHey, need a hand with something. SOS!" You canât help the small sigh that escapes you, your excitement tempered by responsibility.
Natasha notices the change in your expression and raises an eyebrow. âEverything okay?â
You nod, a little reluctantly. âYeah, just my brother. He needs help with something. Guess I should head out.â
She offers a soft smile, understanding but with a hint of disappointment in her eyes. âDuty calls, huh?â
âYeah,â you say with a small laugh. âSorry to bail on you.â
âNo worries,â she replies, her voice warm and reassuring. âFamily first.â Natasha gives you one last quick kiss, her hands squeezing your waist, before stepping back. âTake care of your brother. Iâll see you around.â
âSee you,â you say softly, and with one last shared glance, you head out of the shop, already missing her presence.
When you get home, you find your brother lounging on the couch, his leg propped up with a couple of pillows. He grins when he sees you, clearly not in any dire situation.
âSorry for interrupting your fun time with the redhead,â he teases, his tone light and playful, âbut I really could use some help with this stupid remote.â
You roll your eyes, though you canât help the smile that tugs at your lips. âReally? I rushed home for this?â
âHey, donât blame me,â he says with a chuckle, holding up his hands in mock defense. âYouâre the one who insisted on being so overprotective.â
âI-â you say, grabbing the remote and throwing it at him. He raises an eyebrow, smirking. âSo I assume I ruined something nice, huh? Sounds like things are getting serious with Mrs. Redhead.â
You feel a blush creep up your neck, but you just shrug. âAnd you ruined it.â
He laughs, clearly enjoying your reaction. âOh please, don´t tell me this is the last time you´re seeing her.â
It´s not, he knows it´s not. You do too. Everyone knows it is not.
âNow behave yourself, or Iâll leave you stranded next time.â
"Are you really just going to see her again?" He raises his eyebrows.
"No, I´m going to buy us some dinner, since you ate everything we had here!" He can´t help but chuckle a bit at your words.
âŚ
Itâs been a few days since your brother started walking without much pain, and heâs eager to visit Natashaâs shop to finally see his bike. You agree to take him, sensing that heâs also curious about the woman youâve been spending so much time with.
When you arrive at the shop, Natasha greets you both with a warm smile. âLook whoâs finally back on his feet,â she says, nodding at your brother.
âYeah, feels good to walk again,â he replies, trying to sound casual, though you can tell heâs excited. âAnd to finally check on my bike.â
âCome on, Iâll show you what I did,â Natasha says, leading him to the back where the bike is stored. As they walk, you hang back slightly, watching them interact.
As they approach the bike, your brother takes in the sight of it, clearly impressed. âWow, it looks brand new.â
Natasha grins. âTook some work, but itâs as good as ever. Youâll be back on the road in no time.â
He looks over at you for a moment, then back at Natasha, his expression turning a bit more serious. âListen, Natasha, I like you. You seem like a good person, and itâs obvious my sister likes you too. But, I still have to do this.â
Natasha raises an eyebrow, curious. âDo what?â
âThe talk,â he says, crossing his arms. âIf you hurt her, I will come and get you.â
Thereâs a brief pause as Natasha considers his words, then she glances down at his still slightly injured leg and smirks. âSure you will,â she says with just the right amount of sarcasm.
Your brother chuckles, appreciating the banter. âOkay, fair point. But seriously, sheâs my little sister. Iâve gotta look out for her.â
Natashaâs playful expression softens, and she nods. âI get it. And for what itâs worth, I care about her a lot. Iâd never hurt her.â
Your brother studies her for a moment, then finally gives a nod of approval. âGood. Because Iâd hate to have to hobble after you.â You laugh, stepping forward to join them. âYou two done with your little standoff?â
Natasha chuckles, âI think weâve come to an understanding.â
Your brother nods, "sooo when can I take my bike back home?"
"You can take it today if you´d like," this sentence makes you groan.
"Hell yeah!" Your brother states.
"Oh my god-" you exhale deeply.
"I´ll get it for you," Natasha smirks at you and goes to the back for the bike.
He winks at you, completely unfazed by your glare. âYou should thank me for falling off the bike. Seems like it led to something good.â
Natasha chuckles softly as she overhear the conversation, clearly enjoying this. You resist the urge to smack your brotherâs arm. âDonât push your luck.â
He shrugs, leaning back against the counter. âYouâre welcome, sis. I guess we are even now.â
Hehe thank you for reading!
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