#easy to laughter but also quick to tears? check.

[probablygayattorneys]

Omg she’s just like me fr

[anaconamor]

what could’ve been - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: based on this request! brother bsf! after a heavy international loss, jude can only cope and receive comfort from his bsf little sister in her arms despite someone walking in on them…

wc: 1.7k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa🗣️: WAS SO EXCITED WHEN I RECEIVED THIS!! ik it’s not the longest but still filled with heavy and forbidden touches with jude 😵‍💫🤭 like always hope you enjoy! 🤍

you felt torn apart. feeling limb by limp being swept away as you try to cope with the realization they were kicked out to their deserved semi-finals. you couldn’t hear the commotion around you, feeling drips of water fall on you from some fans angry or happily celebrating, only blinking rapid to see if what happened was real or not.

you sunk into the seat, hands covering your face as you felt the need to be pushed into a dark corner and never come out. you felt pity, remorse and overwhelmed with the sight of your brother and his teammates crouched on the floor or wiping their tears away.

you felt for them. it wasn’t a easy match, one of the heaviest tournaments and going against the winner of the last world cup didn’t help. they had a strong team, they had it in the bag before all hell broke loose. one minute you cheered, then next you were trying to hold the choked sobs your body begged to be let out.

you could only stare around with tearful eyes and a heavy pain in your chest as you looked around the stadium before your eyes finally landed on them. your brother consoling jude who tried to control his tears, hugging each other tight almost afraid to let go.

you stayed in your spot, waiting for your brother to appear and come up to the stands. “i genuinely don’t know what to say,” your mom says quietly. you nod agreeing with you, feeling as she hugged your side and brought her to you. “maybe it’s best we leave him, he’ll come to us like he always does when he’s ready to talk,” you reply, bitting your lip to hold back your tears.

you saw your brother send the three of you a quick wake and kiss, shaking his head in dissatisfaction he didn’t want to speak and wanted to be left alone. jude trailed behind him, locking eyes with yours, feeling a familiarity in your tummy as he gave you a sad smile and wave. you reciprocated the action, seeing him whisper a “thank you for being here.”

you felt the first tear and then the one roll down your cheek onto your england jersey, being pushed away into the tunnel back into a reality you dreaded. you felt pissed and angry at the opposing teams fans who cheered loudly as they walked into the shuttles. earning some laughters or side remarks when all you wanted was to go in a tuck into your sheets.

your brother hadn’t checked in yet, so you’d decided to stay up a bit longer knowing he tended to go on walks after rough loss to clear his head. plus you could also imagine the squad comforting each other, and wanting to be there for everyone. you were grateful for that and their ability of having a brotherhood when it most mattered.

while you could also feel for your brother, you randomly began thinking of jude as well. the defeated and obvious sad look on his face as he processed the match. one of englands most youngest talented players at their first world cup and their luck being this.

you and him had a small history. he often came over a lot when they had time off. during those times when left alone a small friendship was built. either to talk about life, seeking advice, music you commonly shared, or when the group decided to leave both of you out.

you felt the need to distance yourself from him after the unexpected makeout session you had in your bedroom. he was your first kiss and it left a forever mark inside you. you knew it was wrong and the last thing you wanted was your brother cutting a long-standing friendship because of it. jude was hurt, eyes always roaming you when he came over and always trying to speak to you.

from jude:

please let me in.

your eyes immediately went wide when you saw him text you to open the door. frantically looking around when you heard the door knock, you quickly looked in the mirror and took deep breaths. this was the last thing you expected to happen especially tonight. your sweaty hand opened the door revealing a teared eyes jude with his nike tech set on.

you let him in, lips pursed not knowing what to say or even debating to say anything. you shifted your weight from one foot to another, you met his eyes, drowning in the rapidly as they never detached from yours. he let out a deep breath or sigh, eyes fluttering as his voice croaked.

he sat on the edge of the bed taking a deep gulp before speaking. “i didn’t know where else to go…” he looked around the room and his body language was refusing to deny what happened. "jude," you whispered quietly taking a small step. you saw his eyes watery looking at you, "can y-y-you just hold me?"

you immediately rushed to him, his head coming to your stomach as his hands wrapped around you. you let him hold you, hearing his loud sobs muffled as you tried to be strong for him. your hands rubbed the top of his shoulders, the other scratching the nape of his neck to comfort him.

you kneeled to his level, holding his face in your hands as you stroked away his tears, jude refusing to let you go as he controlled his breathing. "we can talk about it if you want? but if a quiet setting is what you need i understand too..." you say, thumb tracing his cheeks.

"can we cuddle on the bed? i think i'm ready to talk about it," jude replies, grabbing your hands and placing kisses all over them. you did as you asked, jude laying on top of you as we spoke for almost an hour about how he felt and how things could've gone differently.

you listened, continuing to hold him stroking his back and scratching to soothe his cries or stutters. you didn't interrupt once, wanting him to have the floor to relieve his pain and let his feelings known. you could hear the frustration, tiredness, anger, and disappointment but overall the sadness in his voice.

after a quick share of words and laughter before jude fell asleep, his arms tightly around you as he slept peacefully. you pushed away any feelings, wanting to be there for him when he most needed it. it didn't matter what happened in the past or how you felt for him, he needed consolation and you were grateful he was here with you.

"what the hell is this?!?!" you struggled to open your eyes, feeling the heavy weight on top of you still. you saw your brother standing, before throwing away the sheets that covered both of you. "y/n i swear to god. you two cant be serious right now!"

"please relax its not what it looks like," you said trying to explain the situation, as you stood up and jude as well. " 'it's not what it looks like' my ass! hes my best friend y/n! and here you guys are together and cuddled it up," your brother winced at the end, pacing back and forth with his fists clenched.

"i came here looking to talk with someone! nothing happened i swear! we ended up falling asleep," jude defended, earning an angry look from your brother. "yeah you on top of here like some sort of couple, explain that."

"you're overreacting! nothing happened, period. he was looking for comfort and wanted to talk about what just happened, we talked just that," you say frustrated, becoming pissed at your brother for making up assumptions. jude looked at you with sorry eyes, for getting you into this mess.

"y/n, you don't understand, he's my best friend-"

"you think i don't know that? i know he is, and you're my brother, you weren't the only one who lost tonight. we gave you the space you asked for, and jude is practically like family, so i will be here for him when he asks," you say, watching your brother scoff and give you a look of denial.

"jude you could've gone anywhere else! why her? my sister?" your brother ignored you, coming close face to face with jude. it stung you, hearing him sound almost disgusted of you. "everyone else has families, and they're with them. i had no one besides you and her," jude tried to reason again.

"and you chose her? were best friends jude-"

"i needed her! there i said it! i don't care what you or other people say, i needed y/n tonight. you weren't even here, you took those walks to clear your head and the last i wanted was to stress you out after tonight. i love your sister so much," jude confessed making you gasp and step in front of the two of them.

"i think we should-" you try to intervene as the scene becomes loud in the room, afraid it would wake up others and them going to complain.

"what?" your brother deadpans at jude.

"i said i love her. i have and for so long. and tonight the only person i wanted to see and needed was her. so i'm sorry if that upsets you and for saying it now, but i can't hold my feelings inside any longer," jude says. you're afraid to speak, feeling like a kid all over again about to get scolded for doing the wrong thing.

"i can't believe this," your brother sneers, shaking his head in disappointment and walking away. you call out for him crying trying to resonate but met with the door shutting close. "he hates me. he hates me," you say to yourself, hand coming to your heart as it beats loudly and fast.

"he doesn't hate you, he hates me for falling in love with you. this isn't anyone's fault, we can't control our emotions or feelings let alone let other people control ours, y/n. i said what i said because it's true, im so madly in love with you, baby." jude brushed your tears away, kissing your forehead in a comforting manner.

"jude-" you speak but jude asks you a question that leaves you hesitant about whether to confess how you feel for him or protect your heart to make your brother and everyone happy.

"are you in love with me?"

[wethotcrazy]

SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE (vi)

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 1267

part 6. just something short and sweet for tonight, as i have to finish uni homework. i hope you guys enjoy. also cant wait to watch quali and the race later the anticipation is getting to me. thats all happy race day everyone

part i part ii part iii part iv part v

The first time Yuki saw YN at the Program, she carried herself like she already belonged in Formula 1. While other drivers tried to make themselves bigger with false bravado, she didn't need to – her presence filled the room naturally. Those intense eyes of hers had sized up every driver, every engineer, silently calculating the challenges ahead.

Yuki remembered the exact moment their friendship began. During a particularly dry briefing about fuel management strategies, he'd muttered under his breath, "If we save any more fuel, we might as well push the car ourselves." The room had stayed silent except for one sound – YN's unexpected laughter. It had started as a snort she tried to suppress, then evolved into a full belly laugh that lit up her entire face. The serious facade had cracked, revealing something genuine underneath that matched the passion in her eyes.

They'd gravitated toward each other after that. Long debriefs became more bearable with shared glances and subtle jokes. They'd stay late comparing data, YN explaining corner entry techniques while Yuki shared brake balance insights. Their competitiveness pushed them both to improve – neither wanted to be outdone by the other.

When they became teammates in Formula 3, it felt natural, like pieces clicking into place. They developed a rhythm – YN's analytical approach complementing Yuki's instinctive racing style. Even their engineers joked they could predict each other's feedback before either spoke. After particularly good races, they'd celebrate with convenience store snacks, sitting on the pit wall and dreaming about their future in Formula 1.

The years when they raced in different series had been strange. Yuki would find himself checking YN's race results before his own, watching grainy livestreams of her races whenever he could. She'd send him detailed messages about his performances, always ending with some variation of "You're going to make it to F1 before me, I just know it."

He still remembered every detail of telling her about his AlphaTauri contract. They'd met at their old favorite chip shop in Milton Keynes, and he'd barely gotten the words out before she'd launched herself across the table to hug him. "I knew it," she'd said, her voice thick with emotion. "I knew you'd do it." When she'd pulled back, her eyes had shimmered with unshed tears of joy, filled with such genuine pride it had made his chest ache.

But then came the reality of Formula 1 – different schedules, different countries, different priorities. Their constant communication dwindled to quick messages and reaction emojis to each other's Instagram stories. He'd still wear her team's cap during race weekends he wasn't driving, and she'd defend him fiercely in interviews when journalists tried to stir up drama. But gone were the late-night data sessions and shared dreams on the pit wall.

Sometimes, during particularly lonely nights in far-flung hotel rooms, Yuki would pull up old photos from their junior days. YN in her first Formula 4 car, both of them covered in champagne after their first Formula 3 podium, the grainy selfie they'd taken the night he got his F1 contract. He'd trace the evolution of her smile in each picture, from the intense rookie with something to prove to the confident driver she'd become.

He thought about texting her more times than he could count, wanting to recapture that easy friendship they'd had. But what would he say? "I miss when it was just us against the world"? "Sometimes I catch myself looking for you in the paddock even though I know you're racing halfway across the globe"? Instead, he'd send another emoji, another quick congratulations, and try to ignore the growing distance between them.

The neon lights of Singapore streaked across Yuki's hotel room walls, casting shifting shadows that matched his restless thoughts. His phone screen glowed with notifications – messages congratulating both him and YN on their double points finish, her first podium dominating F1 social media. P3. She'd finally done it.

The champagne had long since dried on his race suit, but he could still see her radiant smile as she'd stood on that podium, trophy held high above her head. The way she'd looked down at him in parc fermé, eyes shining with accomplishment, had stirred something deep in his chest – feelings he'd tried to keep buried under the weight of professionalism and friendship.

Rolling onto his back, Yuki let his mind drift to that pivotal moment in their junior days. They'd been analyzing data after a particularly grueling test session, YN's hair falling to her face as she leaned over the laptop. She'd been so focused, breaking down every apex, every brake point, completely lost in the pursuit of perfection. When she'd finally looked up, catching him staring, she'd given him that soft smile that seemed reserved just for him. That was the moment he knew – knew that what he felt went far beyond admiration for a fellow driver.

He remembered telling her about his F1 contract, how her eyes had lit up with pure joy, how she pulled him into a fierce hug. Even then, chasing her own dreams, she'd been genuinely happy for his success. That was YN – competitive to her core but never letting rivalry poison their friendship.

When she'd finally gotten her own F1 seat, Yuki had watched her try to navigate the pressure with grace. The media scrutinized her every move, questioning whether she deserved to be there, whether she could handle the physical demands. She'd answered them all on track, letting her laptimes speak louder than words. Still, he'd seen the toll it took, caught the moments when her smile would slip in the garage, noticed how she'd grip her steering wheel a little tighter before qualifying.

Now, lying in his hotel room, Yuki's phone buzzed with another notification. It was a photo from their team – YN kneeling beside her car in parc fermé, eyes closed, forehead resting against the nose cone in a moment of pure emotion. His thumb hovered over the screen, tracing the outline of her figure.

He was proud of her – so proud it felt like his chest might burst. Proud of how she'd fought through the day, how she'd defended against more experienced drivers, how she'd proven every doubter wrong. But beyond pride was something deeper, something that had grown from those late nights comparing data, from shared dreams and inside jokes, from years of watching her pour her heart and soul into every lap.

The city lights caught a drop of moisture on his phone screen, and Yuki realized his eyes had welled up. He wanted to tell her everything – how seeing her succeed made his own accomplishments feel brighter, how her determination pushed him to be better, how sometimes he caught himself watching her in team meetings instead of the presentations. How somewhere between shared convenience store meals and podium celebrations, she'd become more than just his teammate or friend.

But tonight wasn't about his feelings. Tonight was about YN's triumph, about years of hard work finally paying off. Tomorrow they'd be back in the garage, professional as ever, pushing each other to go faster, to be better. And he'd keep these feelings locked away, grateful just to be part of her journey.

He pulled up their old photo from their junior days, the one where they're both covered in champagne after their first shared podium. YN's smile in that photo was the same one she'd worn today – pure joy mixed with fierce determination. Some things, he thought with a slight smile, never changed.

here are some of the tags: @floweringanna, @hiraethberry, @holendernik, @oooom4arie, @burnhampeaches, @dying-inside-but-its-classy

let me know if you want to be added to the list :))

[misshoneyimhomeagain]

Chapter 13 - 

Summary: Amidst the holiday season and ongoing hockey games leading up to the new year, Julia is in a hell of emotions while William remains immersed in his hockey pursuits. However, a realisation dawns on him that his friendship with Julia may not be as straightforward as he had long believed.

Tags; William NylanderxOfc; “We never go out of style”

Warnings;  alcohol consumption; 

Author's note: Well, this chapter didn't quite turn out how I initially envisioned it; and despite numerous attempts of writing and deleting, it ended up being the result you see now; It may not be the best, but it's not the worst either, and I apologise if there's too much repetition, as we In this chapter, delve deep into the characters' feelings, and exploring their inner thoughts; also there's a fair bit of jumping back and forth; however, on a positive note, we're just one step away from the grand finale! ;)

Word count: 5.5K

_

"Last Christmas I gave you my heart"

Tuesday, 27th - TOR 5 @ STL 4 (OT)

As the team hit the road again, William couldn't shake the image of Julia from his mind. Sure, he'd seen her in every possible way before - all the private bits included - but something felt a bit different this time. Lost in thought, he absentmindedly stared into the void, and his teammates quickly picked up on his distant demeanour. However, with a few knowing glances exchanged, they silently agreed not to pry. William wasn't known for freely sharing his private feelings, so they opted to wait and let him come to his own conclusions.

But before William could delve deeper into his thoughts, the team rolled into the Enterprise Center. The familiar routine of gearing up for the game took over, the sound of skates on the cold ice drowning out any lingering contemplations. The upcoming match demanded their full attention, and personal reflections had to take a back seat, at least for the moment.

Meanwhile, back in Toronto, Camille packed her bags, ready to say goodbye to the Canadian city once again. In the halls of Pearson Airport, she and Julia shared a heartfelt hug, both agreeing that spending Christmas together had been the perfect decision. It was precisely what Julia had needed, and Camille, always the supportive best friend, wouldn't hesitate to do it again.

"Thanks for everything, Cam!" Julia expressed, tears welling up in her eyes as she let go of her friend.

"Always, babe," Camille reciprocated the emotional moment, offering a warm smile. "Just promise me you'll take care of yourself."

Julia nodded, smiling back.

"And... Just tell Willy how you feel," Camille added, a slightly concerned expression on her face. "I know it's not easy... but he seems like a good bloke, and besides, it really wouldn't hurt for you to get laid sometime soon."

The playful remark elicited laughter from Julia, who then sighed softly and nodded again.

"I know... and I will," she confessed.

"Good! And please give my regards to Sandy and let him know that if he ever makes his way to London, he can give me a ring… anytime," the Manchester girl cheekily winked, sparking another round of laughter between the two.

"Alright, you really need to get going now," Julia chuckled, playfully nudging her friend to start moving along.

And as the laughter gradually subsided, the girls shared a final quick hug, and Camille then made her way towards the check-in and security lines. With a soft chuckle and a light shake of her head, Julia turned around, ready to find her way back to the city and dive back into the office.

While the workload had eased up a bit since the last deadline, there were still plenty of follow-up tasks to tackle. 

Though, amidst the sea of Excel spreadsheets and a seemingly endless stream of emails, Charlie eagerly shared her holiday stories with her family. It had been a fantastic time, marked by her older brother Harry and his wife announcing their second child, and her aunt finalising her divorce. And amidst the holiday cheers and laughter, Charlie had practically spent every available second chatting with Auston. Her absentmindedness, however, sparked curiosity among her family members - not that she minded, though. She was proud to have him as her boyfriend, and happily shared pictures and more.

And Julia couldn't help but smile as she listened intently to her friend's storytelling. It warmed her heart to hear about Charlie's deep love for her family, but as happy as she was for her friend, a slight tinge of jealousy crept in, as spending the holidays with her family was something she truly missed. And while Charlie vividly described every detail of her Christmas presents, Julia's mind inevitably wandered back to her own Christmas day – a day among good, close friends, with a delicious Christmas roast, and intimate, personal stories. And, of course, the kiss with William.

‘Don’t go there…’

Shaking off these thoughts, Julia refocused on Charlie. And as the final touches of the story were shared, they both laughed lightly before agreeing to buckle down and actually get some work done – work that had nothing to do with a certain Swede.

And as the day shifted into evening, bringing the workday to a close, Julia found herself back at the place where her friendship with William had once taken that step further - his condo.

In keeping with their routine, she had, of course, agreed to look after Pablo and Banksy, as she thought, not doing so would risk revealing her feelings for him. And as always, the doodles greeted her with their usual enthusiasm, prompting her to change into a running outfit, and take them out for a good jog – a practice that always helped clear her mind. And on the way back, she swung by Sugo's to grab a hearty portion of delicious pasta, intending to savour it on the sofa while watching the evening's hockey match.

After a quick rinse and with the dogs by her side, the trio settled in as the game unfolded on the TV screen.

And what a thrill it turned out to be.

In the first period, the Leafs wasted no time seizing the lead, with Holl scoring the opening goal just after 3 minutes. However, the Blues swiftly responded, levelling the score. But then, just before the first period concluded, Tavares executed an incredible snapshot, putting the Leafs back in the lead.

Carrying the momentum into the second period, the Leafs notched another goal, this time courtesy of Kerfoot. But unfortunately, the Blues mounted a robust comeback, scoring two quick goals, and soon the game was tied once more. However, to the relief of all Leaf fans, the second period concluded with a solid wrist shot and a goal from Jarnkrok.

Regrettably, the third period saw fewer goals, with the Blues once again evening the score, and the match concluded in a 4-4 tie, extending into overtime.

Back in Toronto, Julia found herself holding her breath as the intensity of the game escalated. Her frustration was evident as she practically jumped on the sofa, and fortunately, the frown soon turned to a wide smile. After four intense minutes of overtime, with only 57 seconds remaining, none other than the handsome Swedish man who had unwittingly captured Julia's heart made a backhand shot that propelled the puck straight into the net, causing the Leafs to secure an incredible victory.

"YES!" she shouted, standing up on the sofa, causing the doodles to jump as well, before bursting into laughter at her own sudden excitement.

Meanwhile, in the locker room following the game, the energy soared, and excitement filled the atmosphere. The guys shouted and cheered, congratulating each other on the win with enthusiastic woos and hearty back claps. And unsurprisingly, William was named the player of the match. Half out of his gear and with the team’s belt over his shoulder, he quickly snapped a proud photo and sent it to Julia in response to her earlier picture of the dogs on the sofa. Completely unaware of how such a photo stirred Julia’s mind.

The image of William’s bare chest and a smirk adorning his face was not what she needed in this very moment, where she saved every tiny bit of energy to remain composed and in control of her emotions.

And about an hour later, William found himself in the comfort of his hotel room, sprawled across the bed, and brimming with excitement, as he eagerly grabbed his phone and dialled Julia's number. True to their established routine, she accepted the video call, just having returned from her drive from William’s condo to her own flat.

"Hey you," she greeted, aiming for a casual tone.

"Hey," William beamed, a wide grin lighting up his face. "How are you?"

"All good, and you?"

“Pretty good too,” William chuckled. “Saw you watching the game with the dogs."

Julia responded with a sweet smile. "Oh yeah, we were all cosied up, although the match was waaay too intense to stay still! I literally jumped on your sofa out of pure excitement."

William's signature laughter resonated through the phone. "You jumped on the couch?"

"How could I not? It was an absolute thrill."

A brief moment passed, filled only with shared chuckles echoing through the speakers.

"Yeah, maybe the next one doesn’t have to be this intense – I mean, I love a good win, but that was maybe a bit much."

"Agreed, but let’s not forget, you did an amazing job, Willy…"

"Thanks, JJ."

Another moment of silence followed, prompting Julia to contemplate whether she should express her thoughts. As had happened before, her mind formulated the words, but her tongue hesitated. So, she refrained from speaking, mindful that William was still riding high on the victory, and she didn't want to risk dampening the mood. Instead, they continued to chat about the game’s highs and lows and how the roadie was going.

William shared stories about everyone's holiday experiences, detailing the presents exchanged and the enjoyment of having a little time away from their families. Which earned another chuckle from Julia.

“Oh yeah, by the way, I promised to let Sandin know that he’s always welcome to ring Cam if he’s ever in London,” she flashed a smile, causing a loud grin from William.

“Well, I’ll pass on the message.”

The two of them shared another ten minutes of casual conversation, and Julia found it surprising how well she was acting around him. Despite feeling butterflies in her tummy, she was simply happy to be chatting with her friend. It was simply a talent William had – making everyone around him feel at ease. And before long, they both agreed to hang up and bid their goodnights.

"Ugh…" Julia mumbled to herself, lying back down on her bed, palming her face as she let out a deep sigh. "Why is this so hard…"

_

As the holiday vibe gradually waned in the office, Julia and Charlie took a much-needed break while waiting for the last drops of coffee to fill their mugs.

"Are you really not going?" Charlie questioned, exchanging mugs with Julia.

"Char, I'm really not going."

Julia offered her a firm expression, but Charlie wasn't ready to let it go. "Why not, JJ? Give me one good reason. You've joined these trips before... besides, it's New Year's Eve. Don't you want to come and celebrate with us?"

The girls had planned another trip to visit the boys on the road, although this time without the element of surprise. They intended to fly out to Denver on Friday and stay until Sunday since the team would play against the Avalanche on Saturday.

"I do... it's just..."

"What? Willy?" Charlie's tone turned stern. "You seriously don't want to come and have fun with the girls because of Willy? Come on, JJ! You're not usually the type to be held back because of a man..."

Charlie's remark earned a light chuckle from Julia as they strolled back to their desks.

"It's not just that... I mean, I still have a lot of work to do, and besides, I haven't bought a flight ticket nor booked a hotel room..."

There was a moment of silence as Charlie settled into her chair, innocently looking around and making odd facial expressions.

“You’ve bought me a ticket and booked a hotel room, haven’t you?” Julia asked, eyeing Charlie with suspicion.

“Maybe…” she replied softly, before elaborating. “I just really wanted you to come, and honestly, I thought we’d be over this by now since you and Willy are totally into each other, and we all figured you’d sorted things out at this point....”

Julia let out a sigh, her thoughts mulling over Charlie's invitation.

“Just think about it, alright?” Charlie timidly suggested, watching Julia closely for any hint of reconsideration.

“I can’t - I promised Willy I’d watch the dogs,” she defended, but Charlie suspected there might be more to it.

“So? Call Terry.”

“Who’s Terry?”

Charlie offered Julia a slightly surprised look. “Willy's dog sitter… wait, you don’t know Terry? He takes care of several of the team's dogs, especially for Auston when I, Stephanie or any of the other girlfriends can’t.”

Julia was a little taken aback. “Well, I’ve never heard of him.”

“Who did you think watched the dogs before you did?” Charlie chuckled.

“I suppose I haven’t really given it much thought…” Julia simply shrugged and smiled a little as she took a few seconds pondering the information before expressing her wonder. “But then why even ask me in the first place?”

Charlie offered her friend a sweet smile, considering the question as she thought of the most obvious answer.

“Hm not sure, my best guess is that Terry couldn’t do it at that time, so Willy asked you instead - and then when he saw how much you loved it, he just kept letting you do it.”

Julia couldn’t contain her smile as she felt the warm sensation spreading through her body once again. She knew William was a thoughtful person, but she had never actually considered how much he had noticed her love for his dogs and how he had thoughtfully entrusted their care to her instead of Terry.

“Anyways,” Charlie continued. “I have his number, just in case you need it.”

The conversation lingered in Julia’s mind throughout the day as she considered the option. However, as she’d noticed the minimal communication from William, she decided to shift her focus to something else — a solid workout session. 

And the reason for the lack of communication? William was simply immersed in hockey and training. After the intense match the night before, and the close call of almost losing, his mind was solely focused on how they could improve as a team.

And in the evening, after the flight, bus ride, and team meeting, the boys gathered to play a few rounds of NHL on PlayStation or simply hang out and mentally prepare for the upcoming game.

_

Thursday 29th - TOR 3 @ ARI 6

However, Thursday, took an unexpected turn for everyone – especially Julia.

To start the day off, as she awoke, it wasn’t because of her alarm clock. Apparently, she’d slept through it, and now she was running late. Something she rarely did. So, after quickly getting dressed and grabbing the essentials, she was out the door.

And a quick pit stop at William’s condo led her to contemplate taking the doodles out as they needed, deciding it wouldn’t hurt for them to enjoy a bit of fresh air and company from strangers. So, she packed their most needed items, let them attend to their business, and had them hop into the backseat before manoeuvring through the rush hour traffic.

Arriving at the office with heavy breaths and Pablo and Banksy at her feet, she practically collapsed into her chair, scattering their toys and bed on the floor by her desk.

“Someone had a rough morning,” Charlie cheekily spoke, watching her friend from across the desk.

“Oh, shut it,” Julia half chuckled out of breath before setting up a neat station for the doodles. “But perhaps, I may need that Terry’s phone number after all…” she said, turning to look at Charlie.

“So, you’re coming with us on the trip?” she almost shrieked, causing others in the open space to look up from their screens. But Julia simply chuckled and shook her head.

“No, I just don’t know when I’ll get out of here today, so if there’s a chance that Terry can come and pick up the dogs, I’d very much appreciate it… just for tomorrow.”

Charlie pouted in disappointment but promptly grabbed her phone to share Terry’s details.

On the brighter note, the dogs remained at their best behaviour throughout the day. Julia only had to take them out a few times, and during lunch, they enjoyed a longer walk with Charlie, grabbing coffee along the way. And everybody seemed to love the company of the doodles at the office, occasionally coming over to pat them, which only caused Julia to smile. 

And around four o’clock, Terry kindly stopped by the office to pick them up.

“So, you’re the one who took Pablo and Banksy away from me?” the tall guy remarked as Julia greeted him at her desk.

“Apparently so,” she offered him a smile.

“Well, Willy talks only fondly of you, and since he’s chosen you over me, I guess there must be some truth to it – he wouldn’t let just anyone watch over these two,” he chuckled.

Julia nodded, slightly baffled by his directness and the undeniable compliment.

“Well, I’m just glad you’re able to look after them tonight – I’ve got a lot of work, and I won’t be able to visit them later.”

“No problem at all.”

After bidding farewell to the dogs, Julia returned to her workstation. And an hour passed before Charlie gathered her tools and made a final attempt to entice Julia into joining the girls' trip. Julia, however, continued to decline.

"Alright then… but I've sent you the information, just in case you change your mind…"

Julia thanked her friend before resuming her report, and yet another hour and thirty minutes slipped by unnoticed. Only Andrew's interruption drew her attention away from her screen.

"Are you planning to stay the night here or what?" he asked, half-seated on her desk.

"What do you mean? It's not even that late..."

Andrew wore a concerned expression. "I know, but it's been a while since you've worked this late, especially on a hockey night, and during the past couple of weeks, you've been more focused than usual..."

"Well, we did have an important deadline..." Julia chuckled nervously. "And so, what? I care about the details of my work – there's nothing wrong with that."

"So, the late hours and your attempt to avoid social media throughout the day have nothing to do with a certain Swedish hockey player?" Andrew raised an eyebrow, teasingly questioning Julia's behaviour.

"How did you-?"

"JJ, I'm your boss, I sense these kinds of things..." Now it was Julia who raised a questionable eyebrow. "... I overheard your and Charlie's conversation," Andrew admitted.

Julia let out a sigh and lightly nodded before he added, "Come on, let's go to my office."

She wanted to question his suggestion, but Andrew had already risen and walked the few meters. So, she went along.

Seated on one of the lounge furniture pieces in Andrew's office, Julia attempted to relax, taking a deep breath as he approached with a drink. She examined the dark brown liquid in her glass, took a quick whiff, and then a sip.

"Black Tot, British Royal Navy rum," Julia remarked with a light smirk. "Someone's got good taste."

"I got it from you as a present," Andrew chuckled.

"I know – I've got good taste," she smirked before offering a laugh.

But the laughter slowly faded, as they both took a sip of their drinks, and Andrew offered Julia a concerned look.

"So, what's really going on?"

The blonde, Brit let out a deep sigh as she looked at her boss in the other lounge stool.

"Do you really want to listen to me whine about my boy problems?"

"Well, you listened to me when I whined about my failed marriage…" he replied with a soft grin.

And Julia, accepting his response, waited a few seconds, taking another sip as she considered that maybe, just maybe, Andrew could offer a different perspective of her emotional issue. So, she took another deep breath and inspected her glass.

"Well," she began with a soft tone of voice, "I guess I'm just not sure what to do… I mean, I know that I like William a lot… and I believe, in a way, he’s got some sort of feelings for me as well, it's just… I'm just not so sure if they're romantic feelings,” she admitted, turning to look at Andrew, who was intensively following her. "And I've already had my heart broken once this year… I've barely put the pieces back together, and now, I'm risking having it broken all over again – and potentially lose a dear friend…"

Andrew nodded as he noticed Julia's nervous smile creeping on her face.

"But what makes you so sure he's not romantically interested in you?" he questioned. "I mean, just from what I've seen between you two, you seem close, and it's not like there's no flirting."

But Julia simply shook her head, flashing a soft smile. "The flirting is just good banter."

"What makes you so sure about that?" Andrew persisted.

Julia could feel herself hesitating before answering. "I guess I just assumed," she finally admitted. "He's always so outgoing and flirtatious with others… so why would it mean something more with me?"

She could feel her heart stinging as she spoke the words, and her mind concluding that that was the truth. Andrew, however, was not entirely convinced. Having experienced heartache of his own, he could understand the pain Julia was feeling, but he also recognised the classic tendencies. Just like himself, she was the type to avoid emotional conflicts and bury herself in workload and other activities.

The two of them shared a silent moment, enjoying a few more sips of their drinks before Andrew then shifted back to a more serious note.

“JJ… it sounds to me like you have to talk to him – tell him how you feel, and then accept the outcome…” he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees as he came a little closer. “Yes, you might risk your friendship, but what you’re carrying right now will also do that – I can tell from experience that it won’t just go away, and what you need is closure.”

After sharing another heartfelt moment with her boss who had also turned out to be a somewhat of a close friend, Julia sighed as she slowly realised, that perhaps he was right. So she offered him a gentle, defeated nod. 

“I just wish I could get just over it,” she almost whispered. 

“How did you get over your last boyfriend?” Andrew then asked, earning a smile from Julia.

“I got under somebody else…” she winked, indirectly referring to William. “…And moved to a different country.”

And after a few more minutes and a chuckle, Andrew then excused himself to take a phone call, and Julia retrieved her phone, noticing that the hockey match of tonight had already started. Collecting her thoughts, she reconsidered Andrew’s proposal. And without more hesitation, she decided to make a call, aware that William wouldn’t be able to answer.

Emptying her glass, she pressed the green button. 

‘Hey, this is William. Please leave a message after the tone.’

*Beep*

Julia took a deep breath.

“Hey, Willy, it’s JJ. I know you’re busy playing hockey, so I’ll try and keep it short.”

She couldn’t help but smile a little, feeling the light buzz of the liquid courage as she prepared to express her deep feelings. Biting her lower lip, she closed her eyes and let it all out.

“I guess all I want to say is just that… I can’t stop thinking about us… Our first night. The time we’ve spent together for months now. And then the kiss on Christmas… And I’m not even sure if you in any way think about it too, but no matter what, I just really need closure – so please, let me know when you get this message…”

Pressing the screen over the big red circle, Julia leaned back in the chair.

“Guess there’s no going back now.”

_

Meanwhile, in Arizona, the team faced a challenging night at Mullett Arena.

It seemed that all the positive momentum from the previous game had taken a turn for the worse tonight. Though, the Leafs managed to take the lead in the first two periods, displaying moments of skill and determination, the Coyotes unfortunately came back a lot stronger, dominating the ice and outplaying the Leafs in the third period, ultimately concluding the game with a decisive 6-3 victory.

In the locker room following the match, the atmosphere was a mix of disappointment and determination. Sheldon provided a good amount of supportive and encouraging words, emphasising the need to learn from the defeat and not letting it get the best of them. And the boys, as always, simply exchanged comforting pats on the back, their shared commitment evident as they agreed to keep their heads high, put this game behind them, and return with renewed strength for the next match.

Soon enough, smiles and light laughter spread across their faces as Mitch and Justin, cheeky as ever, decided to lighten the mood with their goofy behaviour.

And in the midst of the locker room boyish jokes and playful banter, Auston noticed something new around William's neck, sparking his curiosity, as the Swede was returning from the shower. 

"Hey Willy, what’s that? Is it new?"

"Oh yeah, I got it from JJ for Christmas," William smiled as he proudly showed off his new chain.

Auston stepped closer, examining the item with his fingers as he read the small letters of the amulet. “It’s nice. She’s got good taste.”

Some of the other boys joined in, admiring William’s new jewellery and commenting on its coolness.

“Wow, I can’t believe she gave you this,” Holl remarked. “It must have cost her a fortune.”

 “Oh, come on, we all know what it’s like having a crush,” Mitch suddenly, chiming in from the other side of Auston, and added, “You just want to buy them anything, no matter the price.”

The room fell silent for a moment, as if time had frozen.

"What?" William chuckled nervously, and Mitch's eyes widened as he realised what he had just revealed.

“Uh... Uhm… no matter the price…” he stammered, knowing those weren't the words in question.

"JJ’s got a crush on me?" William asked, slightly baffled upon this sudden information, looking intensely at Mitch, who tried to avoid eye contact. “No way!”

The players exchanged curious expressions as William continued to chuckle, slowly realising there might be some truth to it.

“Are you sure?”

Mitch and Auston nodded simultaneously, confirming the revelation.

"But then why hasn't she said anything? I just talked to her a few days ago," he mused aloud, more to himself than to the group, and Mitch, recognising the weight of his inadvertent announcement, spoke up with a shrug.

"Maybe she's afraid. You know, scared it could mess up what you guys have."

And Mo, always one for straightforwardness, added, "She probably doesn’t want to risk losing you as a friend – you know, in case you don’t feel the same."

A moment of silence hung in the air as William processed this unexpected revelation before Auston gently broke it.

“Do you… feel the same?” he timidly inquired, earning all the boys to eagerly follow William’s reaction.

But the young blonde simply shrugged. “I don’t know, I mean… I definitely like her, but… I just haven’t really thought of us in that way… I mean, seriously.”

“Oh, come on! You’re totally crushing so hard on her. It’s so obvious,” Mitch chuckled loudly, and the boys joined in agreement. Even William offered a light chuckle.

“I guess,” he admitted, but before he could continue, the team was interrupted by the management, encouraging them to finish up so they could travel back to the hotel.

The short ride from the arena to the hotel was almost eerily silent, with each boy lost in their thoughts about the upcoming game, headphones on. However, William's mind remained occupied by thoughts of Julia.

Could she really have a crush on him?

And noticing William's distant gaze, Auston, recently in a similar state of mind, turned to his friend. Despite neither being adept at heartfelt talks, Auston still felt compelled to offer some advice.

“Just go for it, man. JJ’s great, and both of you like each other. It’s kinda a no-brainer,” he chuckled, eliciting a grin from the Swede.

“I know,” William sighed. “It’s just – I don’t get it. I mean, we’ve spent so much time together. And every time I thought we were flirting, she just brushed it off, you know. Besides, why would she be into me like that? She’s all smart, mature, and …” he trailed off, carefully choosing his words. “And I just thought she only saw me as all fun and a friend…” 

It was a strange feeling. Normally, William wasn't one to doubt himself like this. He had never been the insecure type or spent much time pondering feelings and potential relationships. While he had been with quite a number of girls and even had a few relationships in the past, none of them had ever made him feel this way. Questioning himself like this. 

“Well, no one said it made sense that she’s got a crush on you,” Auston playfully quipped, sparking another round of laughter.

And as a head came to appear from the seat in front of them, Sandin joined in.

“Well, the good thing is that you already know she’s good in bed,” the younger Swede playfully commented, causing more players to turn their heads for some juicy information. And naturally, the rest of the ride was filled with William’s storytelling of his first encounters with Julia.

Upon arrival at the hotel, laughter and smiles were shared among the teammates. And tired after the match, they all went directly to their respective rooms, some for a final round of NHL video games, and others to phone their significant others.

Entering their hotel room, William and Rasmus immediately sensed the fatigue from the night's game, and as William settled onto his bed, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, the unanswered call notification from Julia caught his attention. However, noticing it’s been several hours since she made the call, he hesitated before deciding to return it.

Instead, as he navigated to the missed call, and came across the voicemail, curiosity piqued, and he clicked on the message and listened to her words.

_

As morning came, Julia's eyes slowly opened to the soft chiming of her alarm.

And turning around to silence the alarm, she recalled Andrew's insistence that she’d take the day off. Well, he practically forced her to stay at home, understanding that she might need it. And he was right.

A gentle smile graced her face as she placed her phone down and tried to drift back into slumber. However, her mind resisted complete tranquillity, and she found herself unable to return to sleep. Thoughts of her conversation with Andrew yesterday flooded her mind, and she mentally scolded herself for leaving that message for William. Though deep down, she knew she wanted to express those sentiments, she simply couldn't ignore the fact that he never called her yesterday and the lack of a message this morning.

“This is ridiculous,” she mumbled to herself.

And letting out a deep sigh, she forced herself out of bed, and made her way to the bathroom.

A couple of hours later, Stephanie and Charlie joined the other girls at Pearson Airport, ready for take-off, a routine they'd by now experienced several times before. And while the atmosphere buzzed with excitement, the girls exchanged anticipations about the upcoming trip, expressing their eagerness to reunite with their significant others and celebrate New Year's Eve together.

Dress details and outfit discussions filled the air as the group checked in their suitcases, and amidst the lively chatter, Stephanie turned to Charlie, a lingering question in her eyes.

"Still nothing, huh?" she inquired, gesturing towards the leftover ticket bearing the name Julia Jones in black, and Charlie gave a gentle shake of her head.

But then, just as the group prepared to head to security, the distinct sound of heels approached, and a small trolley adorned with the Union Jack flag accompanied a soft British voice, prompting the girls to turn around.

"Hey, you've still got that extra ticket for me?"

There she was, Julia, with an air of determination and a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. The girls exchanged surprised glances before Charlie, with a bright smile, handed over the ticket.

"Well of course," she spoke excitedly, and Stephanie joined in. 

"You ready for a little New Year's adventure?"

Julia chuckled nervously, "Yeah, why not? Sometimes you just need a leap of faith, right." 

And with that, the girls proceeded through security, marking the beginning of their exciting journey.

[messedupfan]

Benefits of Car Troubles (part 2)

Summary: Things continue to get complicated between Leigh and Y/n.

Warning: Smut 18+

A/N: Sorry it took so long for this, life gets in the way sometimes. Also I didn't edit this, I apologize for the errors. Thank you @karsonromanoff for the suggestion in the beginning! I hope y'all enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | Part 1

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

Leigh clears her throat and blinks away the tears as she thinks on her feet. “This is my friend, Y/n. I told you I was going out with them and their girlfriend and Jules,” she explains. “You probably don’t remember that I told you I might spend the night here because you wouldn’t look up from your phone for five seconds to hear me,” her words are sharp and you’re trying to hide your surprise. You knew that she could make up excuses but to flat out lie when there was clear evidence against her statements raised some flags for you. 

The man looks between you and his wife and her attire and the clothes sprawled along the floor. He takes a deep breath through his nose and nods a few times before bursting out into laughter. He starts shaking his head, you and Leigh exchange a quick look then return your gazes to him. “Figures you were seeing someone. I mean,” he starts to catch his breath but finds the situation too amusing. “I have been having an affair for over a year and I’ve been sloppy about hiding it. Come on, you made it so easy! Those pills take me a couple weeks to adjust, not months! I just thought you were in denial or okay with it. But this,” he gestures to you and her, “this explains it.” 

Leigh thought it would hurt to hear the words from Matt. To actually have him admit to what he was doing behind her back. But it does the opposite. It fills her with a relief that the problems with her marriage weren’t because of her. They started with him. However, she is pretty upset that instead of coming to her with these problems, he found someone else to be with while still being married to her. “So that’s it then, we’re getting a divorce,” Leigh says as she pushes him out of the apartment but it looks like Matt has more to say. 

She shuts and locks the door and while he’s banging on the door, demanding to be let back in, she leans her body against the wooden surface. You are pulling your sleep pants off of her and burying your face in her pussy without her having to ask you to. Leigh moans as loud and dramatically as she can to assure that Matt can hear her. “Oh yeah, babe! You’re so much better than my husband!” She shouts and that’s what causes the banging to stop. But so do you, Leigh looks down and doesn’t find you between her legs anymore. 

She looks around, confused that you disappeared. A soft knock on the door behind her startles her enough to make her jump. She opens the door and that’s when her eyes open. Leigh sits up and scans the unfamiliar room to remind herself where she is. There was a picture of you and who she assumes is your dad working on a car on the dresser and she smiles. You were a little kid in the picture and she thought you looked so sweet. Leigh relaxes a little as she tries to remember falling asleep, but she couldn’t. 

Leigh knew she was tired from last night and this morning, but she didn't realize how exhausted she was until you left her alone in your room.  Sliding out of your bed, she dresses into something appropriate and makes herself coffee in the kitchen. That's when you come in to check on her again. “Hey sleepyhead, you're up,” you greet with a warm smile. “Teddy had a question for me and when I came back to you, you were fast asleep. I thought I’d let you rest up while I helped open the place up.” You meet her in the kitchen and kiss her cheek. “How’d you sleep?” 

The machine stops pouring the beverage and Leigh takes the mug before she answers your question. “I slept pretty well, but had a weird dream,” she adds a few things into the coffee. She was happy that you had a similar taste as her. 

You frown at the mention of her dream and lean against the counter by the sink, across from her. “Was it bad weird or good weird?” 

Leigh shrugs, “It was just weird. Ended pretty good though.” 

You raise your eyebrows in interest, “Oh? How so?” 

She smirks as she sets the mug down and steps closer to you. “Well, it ended the same way things started last night,” she says as she kisses you on the lips. “With me against the front door and your tongue working its magic,” she continues. You smile at the thought of her having a dirty dream about you and how normal all of this feels between the two of you. Her in your apartment, making herself coffee. Of course a part of you wants to ask her to make up her mind already and choose you. But you quiet the voices in your head and stay in this moment with her. 

“I,” you start, wanting to say the words she already asked you not to. “I was going to order lunch and came to see if you wanted any or if you had somewhere to be?” 

Leigh steps back and you watch her grow tense from your question. “I probably should go,” she says softly. You nod, keeping your thoughts to yourself. It was better to keep your mouth shut than to do something ridiculous like beg her to stay. Part of her wishes that you would, tell her that this is more than just sex for you. That you would make promises to her that would give her the strength to leave her husband. But another part of her is thankful for your patience. Thankful that you were sticking around, waiting for her to be ready. Waiting for her to get her life together before you asked more of her. 

Once Leigh and her car are gone, you have your assistant order lunch for everyone while you stay in your apartment during the break. You don’t know if you can do this with her anymore. Was it worth it? Was she worth it? Yes, your heart answers almost immediately. It wasn’t what you wanted. Never had you ever thought you would find yourself in such a situation where you fell in love with a married woman. When this started, she had said the marriage was practically over. That there were divorce papers being drawn up and everything. Then you slowly found out that wasn’t the case, by then it was already too late for you. She was so easy to fall in love with. 

A knock on your door disrupts your thoughts. You open it to find Teddy holding a couple takeout bags and a drink tray. “Thought you might like some company,” she says with a soft smile. You open the door wider and step to the side to allow her further into the apartment. “So, she spent the night,” she starts once you’ve joined her at the table. You nod as you unwrap your burger. “Is that progress or was that the last time?” 

You sigh and think while you chew your food. “I don’t know. With her… it’s hard to tell what is in my head and what is true.” 

She nods and plays with her fries a bit, “What’s in your head right now?”

You shrug and take a sip of the soda you got, “That she truly loves me and that she wants us to work and that she is going to tell her husband about us. That she will continue to fight for us when she does tell him.” The admission forms a lump in your throat and fills your body with doubt. None of that is true. Teddy asks what the truth is and you push your burger away from you. “I think I might have to end it. If our love is real, me walking away could prove that. Either we find our way back to each other when the time is right or… and as much as this pains me to say… we don’t.” 

Teddy reaches across the table and squeezes your hand. “It’s up to you,” she states, bringing no comfort or clarity. It wasn’t her job to do that, though it would have been nice. You knew where she stood in this situation. In her mind, you were only the getaway car for Leigh. Whatever relationship you built with Leigh wasn’t going to last forever. Part of you agreed with her but otherwise, you wanted to have hope that she could be proven wrong. The two of you finish your meals in silence and then get back to work. 

You don’t hear from Leigh that night or the next day or the day after that. She hadn’t made a promise that she was going to call you later but you still expected at least a text message. You thought that night she spent with you had meant as much to her as it did to you. She told you that she loved you and now she couldn’t bother to at least tell you that she was okay. Unless it was just her way of paying you for fixing her car. In that case, it made you feel cheap and used. You tried not to think of it like that. It was just a seduction technique when she said that’s what that was. 

Nonetheless, by the end of the third week when you haven’t heard back from her, you go out to a bar. You pick up the first girl that catches your attention, you fuck her in the back seat of her car, and you go home alone. Looking at yourself in the mirror the next day is a challenge but you need to move on from her. You’re almost certain she has moved on from you. Maybe with her husband or maybe with someone new. Someone who can handle a physical relationship without complicating it with feelings. You just wish she at least let you go before she did. So you could stop feeling like you had cheated on her. It puts you in a bad mood all day even though you feel justified in your actions. 

However, you don’t go out again and when a client flirts with you a few days later, you don’t reciprocate it. Teddy tells you to stop beating yourself up about it and encourages you to find someone new. Someone available. Then you remind her that the last time you took her advice, you took a creative writing class and ended up here. She points out that when she made that suggestion, getting involved with a married woman was never part of it. 

“Don’t blame me for your shitty life choices,” she says before she leaves the building for the day. You shake your head and start closing up the shop. It was then that the ringtone you had set for a specific person rings for the first time in what feels like forever. 

Your heart picks up and you look at the name on the contact. You blink a couple of times to assure yourself that it’s real. Then you quickly answer. “Hello,” you fumble on your greeting and make a face a yourself for sounding so stupid. 

“Hey,” she whispers, “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to contact you again.” 

“I figured that you decided to commit to your husband,” you respond, not wanting to dance around the truth anymore. 

The line goes quiet and you wonder if she hung up on you but when you look at the screen, the numbers on the call continue to rise. You put the phone back to your ear and wait for her to say something. As she continues to be quiet, you climb up the stairs so you can sit down while you wait for her. Debating whether or not you should hang up on her since she clearly doesn’t care to stay for a half decent conversation with you. 

“I chose you,” she states a bit louder this time, no longer whispering. 

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you reply in a short tone. Tired of being strung along. 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry about that,” she says sincerely. “I just,” she sighs. “I’ve been focusing on me at the moment, because in order to be with you I have to do that. I have to focus on me and on my happiness and on getting out of my marriage.” Guilt starts to creep in on you but had she told you any of this before she practically ghosted you without a warning, you would have been more understanding. You might have waited. 

“I slept with someone,” you say, not knowing what else to say. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong,” you take a breath to gather your words to express your frustration. “You left without another word and never responded to my texts so I figured I would move on from you and I slept with someone. It wasn’t good and I couldn’t get you out of my mind… I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You’re not entitled to it but… I don’t know, I thought I should be honest with you. At least.” 

The call ends as your rambling does, you scoff to yourself and drop the device on the coffee table in front of you. Maybe it's finally over, the thought brings no relief. Only more heartache. But then your phone lights up with a notification. The message just says, “Let me in.” Confused, you get up and open the door. Finding no one around, you hurry down the stairs to open the entrance to the shop door. 

“Leigh?” you call out to the darkness. She comes into the light and your heart fills with relief at the sight of her. But then it tightens painfully and tears spring to the back of your eyes. “You’re here,” you say with surprise. 

“I’m here,” she says as she starts to undo the belt around her trench coat. “I’m here for you,” she starts working on the buttons. Knowing where this was headed, you put your hand over hers and shake your head to stop her. 

“I can't, Leigh,” your voice cracks as you keep your gaze low, unable to look her in the eye. Because the both of you know that you're lying. You can and you want to, so badly. But you have to push her away. You have put a stop to this. Otherwise you're sure you'll go insane waiting around for her when she inevitably disappears from you again. 

“I left him,” she says but you don't look at her yet. You don't want to know what she looks like when she lies to you because it doesn’t feel like the truth. “We still need to have the papers drawn up but I left him. When I went home after that night he told me that he was in love with someone else and—”

“So you didn't leave him,” you sigh, slightly disappointed. “He left you,” you remove your hand from hers. Before this, you already questioned whether or not she really loved you. This brings it to a whole other level of uncertainty. 

“No,” Leigh steps closer, “I left him. I moved out. I'm living with my mom right now because I couldn't stay there anymore. I chose you!” She takes your hand and you let her but you don’t close your fingers around her. You’re not ready to let her win this one. Not yet, at least. Not when she has left you hanging for months. She can’t just come back and expect you to accept her with open arms. Not when she hurt you the way she did. Not when she made you believe she really loved you, then didn’t contact you once afterwards. Had she taken a second to let you know that she was busy or that things have been hectic and she will update you when she can, you might have been more willing to hear her out right now. But you’ve been going insane with scenarios of what could be happening to her and thinking that you did something to drive her away. 

You lift your head and look out to the street where other businesses were. Several of them are still open. You could see other people and wonder if their lives were easier than this. You almost wish you could trade places with them. None of them know Leigh, none of them have been hurt by her. None of them had to think about her everyday. “What would you have done had he not told you about his affair? Would you have told him about yours that day? Have you told him?”

“I… I don't know what I would have done. I might've waited a little longer before telling him. But that–” 

“So he knows about us?” You finally look at her and you can see the gears turning in her head. You know the answer before she says it. 

“Well, no, but what does it matter now? My marriage is finally over! We can have this,” she gestures between the two of you and tries to pull you closer by your hand but she is only able to pull your hand to her chest. Instead of being discouraged, she puts your hand flat against her chest where her heart beats. “We can really have this. Isn't that enough?”

In truth, you want it to be. You want the love to be enough but you don’t know that when she leaves here in the morning that she will return. Even a little text message. And without that small piece of trust… nothing will be enough to make this work. “How do I know that you mean it? How do I know that you’re not just using me because you feel bad right now? How do I know that this is as real for you as it is for me?”  

Leigh places her hand on your cheek and, against your  better judgment, you lean into her touch. Her hand is a little cold but the warmth of your cheek warms it up. “I guess you’re just going to have to trust me,” she drops the hand she held hostage so she can have both of her hands on your face. “Please,” her pleading tone creates a lump in your throat. “Please let me love you. Please be patient with me. Please give me one more chance,” she pulls your forehead against hers and closes her eyes. She doesn’t try to kiss you because she knows that will lead you to believe this is only sexual for her. Instead she holds you to show you that this is intimate. That she feels what you feel and your heart can’t help but reach out for her. You place your hands on her hips and bring her in for a tight embrace. She follows your lead and removes her hands from your face to wrap her arms around your shoulders.

After a few more minutes of standing outside you step out of the hug and invite her inside to your apartment. She kisses your cheek as she accepts and lets you lead the way. Once you’ve locked the doors and brought her into your home you ask if she wants to take her coat off after the both of you remove your shoes and she blushes as she hesitates. “What?” You ask. 

“Um, I had a very different idea of how this night would play out. I think it’s best that I keep this on,” she says as she sits on the couch. 

“Are you completely naked under that?” A slow smirk curls your lips as you ask.

Leigh crosses and uncrosses her legs as she shifts nervously under your amused gaze. “Technically, we’re all completely naked under our clothes.” 

You can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out of you as you join her on the couch. You put your arm around her and gently undo the tie up belt on her coat. “How did you think this night was going to play out?”

She watches your every move carefully so she can know what she is allowed to do. But the energy shift makes her feel safe enough to do exactly what she wanted to do when she got in the car to get here. “I could tell you, but I think it would be better to show you,” she stands up and stands in front of you as she opens up the coat to reveal her red lingerie and her smooth skin. The coat falls to the floor as you find it hard to breathe. Leigh only makes it tougher as she straddles your lap. “I missed you,” she whispers against your lips, without kissing you. 

You reach out to touch her but she pushes your hand away and shakes her head. She adjusts her position so that your thigh is pressed up against her pussy. She starts to rub herself against your thigh and you have to bite your lip to keep from touching her. Then she makes a satisfied noise and you can’t help but try to kiss her. Which makes her rise up and take a couple steps back. Seeing her arousal on soaking her underwear makes your mouth water, knowing how good she tastes. You let out a frustrated sigh through your nose. “Are you trying that power play bullshit?” You repeat the words she said to you the last time that the two of you were together. 

Leigh hooks her thumbs through the straps of her panties, “Maybe I wanted to give you something special. You deserve a special night my love.” As she talks, she shimmies out of her red panties and instead of leaving the garment on the floor she turns around to give you a full view of her bare ass as she bends over and picks it up. You have to stop yourself from falling to your knees and burying your face in her pussy. She spins on her heels again and teases you with her panties. She tosses it at you but that’s not what you want. It’s her. It’s all of her. 

You no longer remember what air is as you watch her so closely. Leigh enjoys your hungry gaze. To reward you, she slips two of her fingers between her folds to collect her juices. She makes you think that she is going to put her fingers in your mouth but instead she lightly touches your bottom lip, leaving some of her arousal behind, then sucks her own fingers. Lost in the moment you slowly run your tongue along your lip to savor the taste. Never taking your eyes off of her. When she is done, she removes her bra and climbs on your lap again. She runs her nails through your hair as the two of you gaze into each other's eyes. Having her body so close to yours and not being able to touch her was driving you crazier than when she wouldn’t talk to you because she is right here, available to you and she is making you wait even longer.

“Please,” you finally begin to beg. “Please, Leigh, I need to touch you. I need you, baby, I need you so bad.” 

She stops playing with your hair and she leans in for a kiss, “Then have me.” 

No longer restraining yourself, you eagerly meet her lips with yours and place your hands on the sides of her abdomen. As you kiss her, you move your hands all over her body. On her thighs, her ass, her breasts, everywhere. Leigh does the same, she starts grabbing at your clothing, trying to undress you. Feeling hot, you break the kiss to pull your shirt off and then quickly try to unbuckle your belt and undo your jeans fast enough but you want to focus on her so much more than your clothing. Leigh grabs your hands to make you stop and when you don’t she calls your name which snaps you out of your trance. “What?” You look at her breathlessly. 

“Slow down, Y/n. There’s no need to rush, I’m not going anywhere,” she promises and you are hit with that reality. She is staying, she doesn’t have anywhere else to be for once. You nod and take a breath to get some oxygen to your brain. “I’m yours,” she says as if she can read your mind and knows that you need to hear that. “I’m all yours,” she repeats. You kiss her again, this time slower than before. You press your naked chest against hers and enjoy the feel of her skin against yours. You weave your fingers through her soft brown hair and then you gently remove her from your lap and place her on the seat beside you.

You fully pull your pants and underwear off and kick them to the ground. You stand up and you toss your socks on your pile of clothes. “Come on,” you hold your hand out for her. “Let’s take this to the bedroom.” She takes your hand and the two of you practically skip to your bedroom. 

The next day, you don’t have much time to be with her. Your alarm goes off, waking the both of you and you find out that you have to drive her home because she revealed to you that she used one of the car apps to get to the shop. You were shocked that she did that while wearing what she wore last night. She gets dressed and you throw on something quickly to get her home so that you have time to shower before work. When you are saying goodbye, a part of you is thinking that it’s going to happen again. That she isn’t going to keep the promises that she made to you last night. That you’re going to text her later and be met with no response from her. 

“Can I call you later?” She asks after she kisses you one last time. 

“Yeah,” you say, pretending to be cool and not showing how excited you are. 

“Okay,” she grins at you. “I love you,” she says.

“I love you too,” you mirror her expression. Leigh steps out of your truck and you laugh as you watch her run up the steps of her mom’s house. 

Things run smoothly for a few weeks. You text each other good morning and goodnight everyday. You talk on the phone for at least an hour at night. You take her on a couple of dates in another town to avoid running into people she knows, so she doesn’t have to feel like she has to explain herself. Then one morning, she doesn’t respond with a sweet good morning message. You give her a call at the usual time and she doesn’t pick up or call you back. You force yourself to sleep without her goodnight text. 

Unsettled, you’re not sure if you’re supposed to spam her with messages to let her know that whatever she is going through, she doesn’t have to do it alone. You want to let her know that you’re there for her in any way possible. You want to hear from her. You need to know that she is okay. But you stop yourself from sending her those kinds of messages and trust that she will come back to you when she is ready. You read through the messages from the past few weeks to see if you said the wrong thing or misinterpreted something from her. Maybe she was letting you know that she didn’t really want you anymore and you didn’t see it. Maybe she fell out of love with you and you were so blind with excitement that you didn’t pick up on it. Maybe, maybe, maybe… 

You fall asleep reading her last message that says she loves you and couldn’t wait for the date that Saturday. The next few days, you force your mind to shut off so that you can focus on work and trust that when you go to her mom’s house on Saturday night, she will be ready for you to pick her up. Teddy notices you spinning out again and she is tired of watching you put yourself through this again. She wanted to do something about it. She wanted to grab you and shake you out of it but she knew that she had to stay out of it. If she tried to intervene not only you would you hate and hurt her, but you could end up doing something stupid because of it. So, instead of telling you what she thinks about Leigh and the way she treats you, she makes sure that you don’t eat lunch alone. She even stays for dinner a couple of nights. And avoids talking about Leigh at all costs. But she contributes to distracting your mind and trying to get you to laugh. 

Then the time comes for you to go pick up Leigh. You text her one last time to see if she’ll respond and when she doesn’t you’re uncertain if you should show up. But you do. You drive to her mothers house and nervously adjust your tie with a bouquet of flowers as you ring the doorbell and wait for someone to answer the door. 

When someone does, it’s not who you were waiting for. It was her sister that you’ve seen in a few pictures from Leigh’s social media profiles. “You need to go,” Jules says as she keeps the door close to her. 

“What happened?” You ask as your heart drops. 

“She can’t see you anymore. You have to leave,” she states more firmly. 

“Please, I just need to talk to her. I just need to hear it from her.” 

“You have a lot of nerve showing up here after what you did! Do you get off on seeing my sister in pain?” This time she grabs the bouquet and throws them to the ground and stomps on the flowers. “Leave!” 

Hearing her sister be so demanding, Leigh rushes to the front of the house where she sees your confused expression just above her sisters’ head. “Oh no,” she says under her breath. “Jules!” She calls out and she pulls her sister away from the door. “It’s fine,” she says. Knowing that this will contradict the story she told her family. “It’s fine,” she repeats and tears spring to her eyes as she sees you standing there looking more hurt than she has ever seen you before. “Can you give us some privacy?” She asks her sister. 

“Have you lost your mind already? Have the–”

“Jules! Please, just give us some privacy!” Leigh demands. 

Jules huffs and she glares at you as she walks away. You nervously clear your throat as Leigh steps out of the house and closes the front door behind her. “I-I brought you flowers but, um, your sister hates me for some reason so they’re on the floor.” You point to the crushed flowers that Leigh closed the door on. It was quite the image. Kind of what you think your heart might look like after the way Leigh has treated it. “What’s happening, Leigh?” 

Leigh licks her lips as she thinks of what to say but she is so afraid to tell you. It was hard enough to tell her family. Looking at her life, she felt so messy and not at all herself. But she had to tell you eventually. She wished that you were the type of person she painted you to be in her family’s eyes. The person that left her when she told you. So she could deal with this on her own. So that you wouldn’t actually leave her and that she could leave you and have it hurt less for her. She could handle ending things with you on her terms. She’s not sure she would be okay with you abandoning her.  

With a deep breath, she looks to her twisted fingers and says, “I’m pregnant.” She never considered that you would hug her and choose to stay.

Taglist: @madamevirgo @wqndanat @thisischaismagic @artisannat @olsensnpm @evenbeingcrazy1998 @bentleywolf29 @awkwardmandalorian @agaymilflover @sayah13 @princessprudy  @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @piningismymiddlename @the-writer-arcane @abimess @diaryoflife @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @maximofflover @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout

[mercurygguk]

the first year | jjk (m)

genre; parents au + established relationship au

pairing; dad!jungkook x fem reader

✎ summary; in which jungkook learns that his new life as a parent can be difficult at times and that it takes a great amount of patience, but even with all that, jungkook wouldn’t trade it for anything.

warnings; my weak attempt at being funny, jungkook as a dad, SMUT; sexual activities, fingering, swearing, light dirty talk, actual sex, jungkook being a simp for his baby mama

word count; 4,121

➵ READ PART 1 HERE

a/n; here’s a part 2 of my dad!jungkook fic - hope you like it, enjoy!! also, please feel free to give some feedback <3 didn’t proof read at all, ignore any possible typos thx

Parenting is anything but easy.

That is something Jungkook has learned after the first few months of being a dad. His daughter is usually very easy to handle, very peaceful at most times and over all a very happy baby. However, she likes to wake him up in the middle of the night with loud cries. At this point Jungkook can’t even remember what it feels like to get 8 hours of sleep at night.

Tonight seems to be another one of those nights. Her cries are nothing but irritation, not satisfied with the lack of attention. Jungkook has learned the differences in her cries from the way they sound and whether there are tears or not. Sometimes she’s only doing it just to get some attention when all she really has to do is sleep. She must have inherited her mother’s temper and need for attention.

A heavy sigh falls from Jungkook’s lips, eyes still closed as he waits a few moments, hoping she’ll fall back to sleep without him having to get up and go to her room. Beside him, his girlfriend and the mother of his daughter is stirring, turning over to face Jungkook’s back. Scooting closer, you reach out to touch his back, your palm running up and down.

“I’ll get her,” you softly tell him, speaking into the darkness before blindlessly pressing a kiss to the skin of his back. Before you can get out of bed, Jungkook is getting up. You watch as he drags his feet out of the bedroom and down the small hallway to where his daughter is currently having a midnight crying fit. A small smile sneaks its way onto your lips, knowing he doesn’t mind getting her in the middle of the night despite how tired he sounds and looks. 

There’s nothing in the world he wouldn’t do for her.

Jungkook carefully opens the door, peeking his head inside to see his 7-month-old daughter standing up in her crib, her hands tightly gripping the edge to hold herself up. He switches on the night lamp on her dresser, lighting up the room in a warm glow. Her big brown eyes with long lashes looks at him, no tears in sight, just a small mischievous grin on her face because he’s there to check on her again. The way she has him wrapped around her tiny pinky finger is beyond him. 

“You little tease,” he coos with a smile as he steps closer to the crib, immediately picking her up when she reaches for him. Once she’s in his arms, she cuddles closer to him, head neatly tucked into the crook of his neck. Jungkook sighs deeply in content, running his hand up and down her back as he makes his way out of her room and back to you in the bedroom. You’re still awake when he appears in the doorway, a knowing smirk on your face as he moves closer to the bed. You reach out while pouting, wanting your baby girl in your arms. She’s already half asleep again as Jungkook hands her over before climbing into bed.

Jungkook watches with pure adoration in his eyes as the two most important girls in his life are cuddling up against him. You glance up at him, noticing the small smile he always seems to sport whenever you catch him looking at you and your daughter. She’s fully asleep now, completely unaware of the way her parents are watching her with proudness in their eyes and hearts.

“We got lucky, huh?” You softly say.

Nodding, Jungkook intertwines your free hand with his.

“We really did.”

“You know what we should?” 

You turn to look at Jungkook, eyebrows raised in question. He looks out of the window in the living room, watching the skyline and tapping his chin as if he’s in deep thought. You wait patiently until he looks your way.

“We should throw a party for Areum’s 1st birthday,” he says. You give him a look only to receive one back.

You scoff lightly, “you don’t think I haven’t thought of that?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Well, you never mentioned it, so how should I know?”

Pretending to be offended, you place a hand on your chest and let out another scoff. Jungkook chuckles at your silliness, scooting closer before pulling you onto his lap. You smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Of course, we’re throwing her a party. It’s her first one after all.”

Smiling, Jungkook rubs his palms up and down your thighs. Soon the smile falls from his lips. You frown as you watch it happen, his eyes falling to look at anything but your face. You know what he’s thinking, he’s mentioned it before.

“I can’t believe she’s already a year old soon,” he mumbled. You smile softly, reaching up to run a hand through his hair to remove it from his face. He looks at you again, a sad smile on his face now. “She’s growing so fast, it terrifies me.”

“Oh, I know, baby,” you coo, “but she can’t stay tiny forever, you know that.”

He sighs deeply. “Yeah, I know. I just wish I could slow down time sometimes.”

Your heart aches watching him being this sad over something so inevitable. He loves her so much and he’ll do anything to protect her, go to great lengths to get her whatever she needs. It warms your heart, makes you wonder if you ever could’ve found someone more perfect than him if you didn’t have him?

“She’ll always need you, Jungkook. Even when she’ll say she doesn’t.”

“Areum, sweetheart, no- watch out!”

You watch with wide, horrified eyes as your daughter climbs onto the couch and stands up, wobbling on her very unstable legs. You’re not quick enough to get up and catch her before she tumbles to the ground, her head thankfully not hitting the floor as hard as it could’ve. A loud cry sounds throughout the living room, tears welling up in her eyes as you pick her up.

You examine her for any injuries while cradling her to you. When you don’t see any, you press a kiss on the top of her head. “Oh sweetie, I’m sorry, it’s okay,” you coo, holding her close as she cries it out.

As she sniffles against your shirt, a thousand thoughts run through your mind. Firstly, Jungkook must never know this happened. Secondly, you feel like the worst mother ever, the way you just let her climb up there without support and basically just watching her fall down and almost hit her head very badly.

“Oh, God,” you breathe out, letting out a quiet cry of panic.

The front door opens, your boyfriend’s humming sounding throughout the apartment. You listen as he kicks off his shoes and unzips his jacket. You quickly check Areum’s face for visible tears, hurriedly drying off the remnants with your sleeve. You press a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, flashing her a smile before picking up a toy, handing it to her and pretending her fall didn’t just happen minutes ago.

“Hey babe,” Jungkook appears in the living room, smiling widely at the two of you. He’s quick to come closer, reaching out for Areum and picking her up. He smooches her cheeks with a smile, but it’s without her usual reaction of laughter. You watch, waiting until it hits him. His smile falters, glancing at you whose face is grimacing in apology already. 

The red spots from tears on her small, soft cheeks is what gives it away. That and how quiet she is when usually she’s laughing hysterically when Jungkook smooches her.

“Has she been crying? And is that a bump on her forehead?” He asks, turning to look at you.

“Yeah...” you trail off, wincing as your boyfriend stares you down in suspicion, “we might’ve had a small accident-”

“____!” Jungkook exclaims, horrified as he sits down on the couch with Areum in his lap. He examines her like you did when the fall happened, worry written all over his face. You sigh deeply, getting up from the floor to take a seat beside him. “How did this happen? Did you not watch her?”

“I did!” You quickly defend yourself, “she was crawling onto the couch and before I knew it she was falling down head first into the rug!”

Jungkook exhales, looking back at Areum who’s playing with the thin silver chain around his neck. The bump on her forehead doesn’t look too bad. “I guess the rug took most of the fall, the bump isn’t that big.”

“Oh God, I’m the worst mom ever!” You cry out at the sight of the small bump on your daughter’s head, wrapping yourself around Jungkook’s arm, your face hidden in his shoulder. Jungkook can’t help but roll his eyes. You always have to be so dramatic, thinking the worst about yourself when this could’ve happened to any parent.

“____,” he calls out, catching your attention. You sniffle lightly, lifting your head to look up at him. He smiles at you. “You’re not the worst mom ever, okay? You’re the best and this minor accident doesn’t define your entire role as a mother. She’s okay, look.”

You look at your daughter, her attention still focused on the silver chain, although now her small mouth is curved into a small smile. You smile at her, Jungkook does too. “It’s just a tiny bump,” he tells you, pausing before saying: “there will probably be much worse in the future.”

Gasping, you slap his upper arm causing Areum to let out that precious baby laugh. “Don’t jinx it!”

Jungkook is in a good mood, a pep in his step as he makes his way up to yours and his apartment, fully aware that you’re probably already cooking a delicious meal and making everything ready for your ‘date night’. The drive back from his parents’ place, where he just dropped off Areum, was filled with loud music that made him even more excited for finally having some time with you alone after God knows how long.

Once he steps through the front door, a delicious aroma of his favorite dish hits his nostrils causing him to let out a deep sigh of content. He quickly slips off his shoes and jacket before making his way to the kitchen. Feel-good songs are playing on the speaker and you’re moving around while preparing the food, singing along and just enjoying yourself. You’re not aware of Jungkook standing behind you, a big grin on his face.

Deciding to surprise you, he sneaks up behind you and snakes his arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. You jump lightly in his embrace, turning your head slightly to see that it is in fact the love of your life who’s hugging you.

“Hi,” you softly say, smiling when he presses his lips to your cheek in a soft kiss.

“Mhm,” he hums in response, “it smells delicious, baby.”

“Good for you that your favorite dish is the one I make the best,” you smirk, flipping the steaks on the pan. Jungkook chuckles before agreeing with you. You turn the heat down before turning around in his arms, coming face to face with him. Without another thought he leans in and steals a quick peck. He grins at you when he pulls back to look at you again. “Go get cleaned up,” you tell him, pushing him away from you.

“I love you,” he smiles sweetly as he backs away and heads towards the bedroom. You watch with a lovesick smile, your eyes automatically landing on his butt because it’s right there and you can’t help yourself. Something tells you, you won't finish dinner at the table, but in bed instead.

Sure enough, you stayed at the table until you finished the main dish. You had prepared dessert as well but Jungkook is in the mood for another kind of dessert – that’s what he had said when he got up from his seat before pulling you from yours and tugging you towards the bedroom. Screw the ice cream, you thought to yourself and allowed Jungkook to guide you to the bed.

Ever since Areum was born you’ve had few chances of being alone with Jungkook, enjoying his company and the love he always stores deep inside of him until he feels like showering you in it. 

It’s slow but hurried, it’s passionate and yet filled with desperation, it’s you and him together in your own bubble. Your eyes close shut as Jungkook traces your skin with his lips, his hands running over and feeling your curves and every dip in your body. His lips brush across the faint stretch marks on your stomach, his hands cupping your breasts softly yet firmly.

“God, you’re the most beautiful mama to ever exist,” Jungkook groans as he hovers over you, looking you up and down, noticing every single detail of your body and skin. You smile, a faint blush covering your cheeks as he dips down to kiss you softly. His tongue meets yours halfway, a soft moan falling from your mouth and into his. He swallows the whimpers you let out as he reaches down, fingers running between your lower lips, the wetness there evident to him.

“Jungkook,” you sigh in pleasure against his lips as he rolls your clit with his thumb, “more, please.”

He smirks softly, lips moving from your lips to your cheeks and further down to the top of your breasts, peppering kisses all over you. All your senses are on fire, the feeling of his lips, his fingers, his body against yours, the growing erection against your leg. Your hand reaches down to rub against it through his boxers, the only piece of clothing separating his cock from your clenching hole. You’re whimpering against him as the pressure from his thumb on your clit is edging you closer to your release.

“J-jungkook, please, I need you,” you gasp, you're moving automatically against his fingers causing more friction, “n-need you so bad.”

“That desperate for my cock, huh baby?” He teases, smoothly sinking his fingers inside of you, “you want me to finish you off now or would you like to cum all over my cock?”

You moan at his words, back arching up against him. “Your cock, please, wanna cum all over it.”

A grunt leaves Jungkook as he imagines it before him. It doesn’t take long for him to strip off his boxers, throwing them onto the floor beside the bed. You anticipate the stretch, already clenching around nothing as Jungkook lines himself up with your entrance. You reach for his hand just as he starts pushing past your walls, stretching you open so deliciously in a way you’ll never be able to handle without gasping in pure pleasure. Jungkook intertwines his hand with yours as he keeps it pressed against the mattress right beside your head.

He bottoms out, filling you to the brim. He breathes out heavily, his breathing ragged as he  lets you adjust to his impressive width and length. “Fuck, I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this,” he rasps out as he pulls out and pushes back in, watching the way your eyes roll back in pleasure, “my pretty baby all fucked out.”

It blows your mind how he always manages to make it so dirty yet soft. You’re already a mess beneath him and he’s barely begun. “Oh god, Jungkook-”

A forceful push of his hips has you gasping, a high pitched moan tumbling from your lips. His hips connect with yours in a rhythm, skin against skin, the lewd sounds of your wetness and the feeling of Jungkook thrusting and grinding into you. His lips are back against your skin, your collarbones earning kisses and small bites, your free hand running from his lower back and up his spine to the hair in his neck. You tug at it, earning a grunt from Jungkook. Lifting his head, he looks you in the eye, his lips slightly parted as he works you both to your highs.

His eyes are soft while his actions are far from it, the look he’s giving you tells you everything he doesn’t say out loud. “Oh my god, I’m gonna- fuck,” you gasp, tightening your hold on his hand, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Me too, baby, me too,” Jungkook moans, leaning down to press his lips to yours, kissing you like it would be the last. He swallows your whimpers, your moans and gasps as your orgasm hits you hard. Jungkook follows you, his orgasm hitting him as you clench around him. He stills inside of you, moaning deeply at the feeling of you clenching and milking him for every drip of cum. He’s panting as he comes down, his face hidden in the crook of your neck. Yours and his breathing is the only thing you can hear in the room as you both try to collect yourselves. Your fingers are caressing his scalp as he stays in your arms, letting his weight rest upon you. Silence engulfs you and him, Jungkook’s breathing clashing against your neck, your fingers dancing across the skin on his back. You can feel his cum trickling out of you, but you don’t really care at this point, just enjoying the moment and worrying later about the mess that is the sheets.

Jungkook’s thoughts are running a hundred miles per hour as he lays in silence with you close against him. His thoughts shift from the first time he met you to when he first kissed you to the way you told him you loved him before he told you. Then his thoughts wander on to his daughter, the tiny person he created with you just from the love between the two of you. There are so many memories with you, moments and life events he shares with you. An idea pops into his mind, it’s something he has been thinking about for a long time, he just didn’t find the right time yet. He wants to add another meaningful celebration of life and love to the memories he shares with you.

He wants to marry you.

Jungkook already asked for your parents’ approval. They told him yes in an instant, reminding him that he has a child with you and that the two of you are already past asking for approval. That thought alone makes Jungkook chuckle softly. He really did things with you in a messy order. First he slept with you then he dated you. Then he asked you to be his girlfriend and then after a few years he accidentally got you pregnant and now he’s thinking about proposing to you.

“What?” You ask, smiling softly as you hear Jungkook chuckle.

He rolls over, his back hitting the mattress and pulling you with him to lay halfway on top of him. He smiles at you, his fingers reaching out to tuck strands of your hair behind your ears.

“It just hit me how we’ve done things in a really random order,” he tells you. Your eyebrows pull together in confusion at his words. “First we slept together and then we started dating after that, then I asked you to be my girlfriend,” he’s grinning from ear to ear as you listen and he’s talking, reminiscing the years he’s spent with you. “I got you pregnant by accident and now we’re parents and I just…”

He falls silent, his smile faltering as he looks you in the eyes. You’re looking at him with those eyes that always hold so much love for him and Areum too. Beautiful eyes that can calm him at any given time, tell him everything’s gonna be alright without you saying anything. Jungkook would do anything to look into those eyes for the rest of his life. He could just ask you, right now in this very moment. It doesn’t have to be a candlelit dinner or with rose petals. What matters is you and him together in an intimate moment where all feelings lay in front of you, bared for the both of you to see.

“Marry me.”

You freeze, your fingertips that had returned to running over his skin freeze in their movement. Jungkook can tell your eyes are watering. You open your mouth to speak, a small voice coming out as you say: “w-what?”

Jungkook nods, “you heard me, baby,” he softly says.

“I’m-” You begin but cut yourself off. Jungkook watches as a wide smile spreads across your face, the first few tears falling from your eyes and running down your cheeks. He reaches out to wipe them away, smiling softly himself. “Oh my god,” you cry.

“So, is that a yes?”

Nodding, you crawl up to wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, pressing your lips to his in a kiss. “Of course, it is! It’s a million times yes!” You say against his lips, pulling away slightly to rest your forehead against his. “I love you so much, Jungkook.”

“I love you the most, baby.”

Areum is 1 year old today.

She’s 1 year old and Jungkook isn’t sure how to handle it. His baby girl is growing up so fast and it both terrifies and amazes him. You seem to handle it pretty well, but Jungkook has a feeling you’re just very good at hiding it. There’s no way you’re not emotional about the fact that the baby you carried around for 9 months is already 1 year old.

“How’s my favorite granddaughter?” Jungkook’s mother coos as she walks right past her son and towards Areum who’s sitting on the rug in the living room, surrounded by her toys. Jungkook watches in disbelief how his mother doesn’t even give him a moment of attention, clearly only here to visit her grandchild.

“Mom, she’s your only granddaughter,” Jungkook deadpans before turning back to greet his father, “hey dad.”

Jungkook’s father gives him a tight hug before moving on to give you an even tighter hug. “How are you, ____?” He asks, smiling as he pulls away to look at you.

You smile in return. “I’m good! And you?”

“Same as always,” he shrugs, “not much happens when you reach a certain age.”

You chuckle at that, telling him to go say hi to his granddaughter. You watch as Areum greets his grandfather with a big grin, reaching out for him like she does with everyone she loves. You smile at the scenario in front of you, how Areum is the center of attention for all of her four grandparents. Your parents had arrived earlier than Jungkook’s, having kept Areum entertained for the past hour or so.

“Should we tell them today?” Jungkook asks as you join him in the kitchen, his voice low in case his mom should suddenly appear behind him. “You know, about that,” he points to the ring on your finger.

Smiling at him, you lean up and kiss him quickly on the lips. “Sure,” you agree with him, making him smile, “but remember it’s Areum’s day today. So we’ll just mention it and then move on with her birthday party.”

Jungkook nods at that. “Of course. Nothing is bigger than her 1st birthday-” he pauses at that, the fact hitting him once again. He then turns to you, giving you a confused look, “how are you not emotional about it at all? I literally cried when I gave her a bath last night.”

A laugh emits from your lips. “You cried? Because it’s your daughter's 1st birthday?”

Offended by how you’re finding his devastation humorous, Jungkook scoffs. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did.”

You’re smiling at him in adoration as you wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. Jungkook hugs you back, pressing his lips to your temple. Areum’s laughter flows through the apartment causing the two of you to laugh yourselves. It’s like sweet music to your ears when Areum has a fit of giggles.

“I adore her so much, ____,” Jungkook suddenly says as he watches from the kitchen, watching how Areum is surrounded by her grandparents, having the best 1st birthday. You’re constantly smiling, you have been ever since Areum was born. The joy she brought with her when she came into the world is unlimited and you feel like you’re on top of the world for creating such a happy, lively small human being.

“I know, baby,” you tighten your arms around him, giving him a squeeze, “she’s the best thing that’s happened to us.”

[gladerscake]

Hungry Eyes

(Gally x Reader)

Requested by the incredible @ultraintrovertedgryffindor 💯 This is a little more heated than all the other imagines I’ve written so far. No smut though! So if you’re not into that kind of stuff, don’t worry, it isn’t actually in there. Enjoy!

For the life of you, you could not focus on your work. As hard you as you tried to keep your attention on what you were supposed to be doing, it was proving to be an immensely difficult task. The surplus of weeds at your feet with their urgent need to be plucked didn’t stand a chance against something much, much more interesting, just across the glade…

You leaned against your shovel as your gaze, for the umpteenth time in the past twenty minutes, traveled all the way to the builders. Well… one builder, in particular. Your builder.

A familiar warmth encompassed your abdomen with an unsurprising quickness as your eyes landed on Gally.

It has been an especially hot day, the blazing sun making more than a few gladers positively miserable as it made trudging through their workload that much more challenging. The builders seemed to be affected most of all. At some point Gally had slipped out of his shirt, and now, all you could do was watch, with bated breath and skipping heartbeat, as he lugged around massive hunks of wood like they weighed nothing to him.

Gally’s strength never ceased to amaze you. It was something you were sure you would marvel at until the end of time. Of course, his job as the Keeper of the builders demanded a certain amount of physical superiority, but holy shuck, was it something to leave your jaw hanging.

You stared, rather indiscreetly, as Gally’s mouth-watering torso glistened in the sunlight, damp beads illuminating his skin and making it appear as though he was sweating diamond dust. His impressive muscles were on full display, tensing and flexing, the prominent indents of his abs pulling your gaze in like magnets. His burly arms were also nearly impossible to look away from. A small grin crawled onto your lips as you recalled the way those same arms encompassed you in the bed of your shared hut, just earlier that morning. Your boyfriend looked absolutely breath-taking, and the exquisite sight you were currently being gifted with left you frozen, longing, and maybe just a little dazed. If you were to suddenly feel dizzy, it definitely wouldn’t be from the sun. The heat was notable, sure, but it was easy to ignore as your body was pervaded with a heat of a different kind.

“Oh, pick it up, would you?”

Newt’s slightly annoyed British lilt momentarily brought you out of your trance as you snapped your head towards him, returning back to earth. Although, you couldn’t deny, a part of you was somewhat discontent with being returned.

“Pick what up?” Your forehead scrunched in confusion as you peered at your friend.

“Your jaw. And your bloody dignity, for that matter.” Newt scoffed, a thoroughly amused grin dancing on his lips as he had clearly caught you gawking at Gally.

Just a few weeks ago, you would’ve been so embarrassed by that, you’d turn redder than the tomatoes growing in the garden, but ever since you and Gally got together, you have been feeling increasingly less bothered by these things. Why should you feel embarrassed for looking at what was rightfully yours?

You merely gave a small shrug at Newt’s teasing comment, an unapologetic grin tugging at the corner of your mouth “It’s my boyfriend. And I’ll stare if I want to.”

Newt released a hoot of laughter, seemingly not having expected you so casually brushing it off “Oh, alright! And what happens if he catches you?”

Your grin only widened, your stomach bubbling with an involuntary spark of excitement at the thought “I’m sure he’ll be nothing short of thrilled.”

Your twinkling gaze darted towards Gally once again… Only this time, your eyes met.

Your heart jumped up to your throat, your breath halting in your airways as your boyfriend stood tall, hands propped up on his hips while he looked right back at you from his working area, his piercing bluish-green eyes narrowed with palpable interest.

Clearly he had noticed you blatantly checking him out as a borderline cocky smirk etched his lips. Now, that has always been effective in bringing a blush to your cheeks. You bit your bottom lip as you accepted the wordless challenge and didn’t look away, instead responding with a playful grin of your own.

Gally chuckled, purposely flexing his abdomen and sending you a tantalizing wink, causing your cheeks to burn hotter. He knew what he was doing to you, and he was enjoying every second. He loved getting you all flustered, and you, with your pounding heart and pink-tinged skin, made it so easy for him.

Your gaze trailed over his chiseled bare chest, the heat swarming your body beginning to feel more like an ache. The urge to stride right over to Gally, throw your arms around him, pull him close and kiss him senseless, was beginning to cloud your mind… However, it was at that moment that Newt deliberately cleared his throat, forcing you to tear your eyes away from your boyfriend.

Okay, okay, enough of that, for now. You needed to get at least some work done. As yummy as your keeper looked at the moment, you didn’t want your friend getting mad at you for being too distracted.

“Sorry, Newt. I’m back. Promise!” You chuckled, internally commanding your flushed state to simmer down, the blush on your cheeks gradually dispersing, along with the foggy feeling over your head.

“You better be.” Newt shook his head “As fascinating as it is to watch Gally get you riled up from across the glade, I’m not doing all the work by myself.” He stated with an underlying scold, making you feel just a tiny bit of remorse.

“Well, I can’t always help it…” You muttered under your breath, returning your focus to the weeds you needed to pull. The thought of seeing Gally at lunch, in about an hour, graced your lips with a smile. Knowing him, he would have plenty to say to you, after what had just transpired…

-later-

The Lunch bell had rung, calling all the gladers to come grab something to eat, and you were about to make your way over to Frypan’s shack. You were finally done with this one row of carrots, falling slightly behind Newt, who had already left a few minutes prior.

You pulled yourself up from your crouching position, stretching your back and brushing the dirt off of your hands, when you suddenly squeaked, a pair of muscular arms, strong like tree trunks, wrapped themselves around your waist.

“Hey!!” Your surprised cry melted into melodic laughter as you turned your head to your captor.

Gally was grinning from ear-to-ear as he pulled you close from behind, your back pressing fully against his still bare torso, making you feel the heat radiating off of his skin.

“Hey yourself!” He chuckled, promptly dipping his head into your sensitive neck and peppering it with multiple kisses. It tickled a bit, but the feeling absolutely delighted you, as you slightly tilted your head back against his shoulder. You could feel his lips grinning against your delicate skin as he pressed a final peck to your pulse point and drew back, catching your gaze with his “Did you enjoy the show earlier?”

Of course he would lead with that. You hadn’t had a single doubt. Nonetheless, you pursed your lips, feigning confusion and batting your eyes at him. A picture of innocent cluelessness.

“Hmm? What show, my keeper? I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Gally playfully rolled his eyes, giving your waist a mischievous squeeze “You sure about that? Because I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You hummed, furrowing yours brows as you imitated deep thought before shaking your head “Nope. I’m totally stumped. Not a clue.”

Gally huffed, his openly flirtatious grin unfaltering “Really? So you weren’t staring at me while I was working my ass off under the scorching sun?”

You swallowed a giggle, your clueless expression paving to a little smirk, a fiery glint flickering in your eyes. Fine, you could admit to it. But that didn’t mean you would succumb to his teasing. He’d seen enough of your blushing cheeks for one day.

You feigned a dramatic gasp, pretending to be shocked and mortified “Oh no! You saw that? I thought I had been so subtle…”

Gally squeezed you tighter, holding you so close that you could feel his heart thumping against your back “Didn’t really look like you were trying to be.”

You grinned at him, his captivating eyes nearly making you forget that anything else existed around you “On second thought, maybe I wasn’t.”

Gally hummed in satisfaction. Good answer. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe your were his, and the fact that you were made him feel like the luckiest shank in the glade. His heart leapt every time you melted into him, every time you responded to his teasing with matching energy, every time you showcased that you were just as happy to be his as he was to be yours. Each loving and yearning gaze you sent his way, each brush of your fingers over his skin, each hypnotising kiss you two shared… all of it was electrifying to him, addictive, like sugar.

He cupped your chin in between his two fingers, gently pulling your face closer to his and capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

You softly moaned against his mouth as you readily kissed him back, just like you had been waiting to do all morning. Your arm reached up and wound itself behind his neck, drawing him in more and being rewarded with an approving grunt from his throat. Gally’s kisses never failed to leave you breathless, he was fantastic at it. You didn’t care that you didn’t have anyone to compare to. You didn’t need to try anyone else to know that he tasted the best.

You whimpered as Gally’s teeth temptingly grazed your bottom lip before he pulled back, licking his lips as he gazed down at you with a near-predatory glow in his eyes. You felt a shiver crawl up your spine at the sight of his dilated pupils and slightly reddened parted lips. He looked so mesmerising…

Despite your body screaming at you not to, you attempted to wriggle out of his tight grasp, the sound of other gladers chattering in the distance reminding you that it was lunch time.

“Don’t get me wrong, I could do this all day, but we really should be heading over to Frypan’s. Aren’t you hungry?” You smiled, tracing your fingers down his jaw, the loving touch doing the opposite of making him want to pull away from you.

With an irresistible smirk, Gally finally whipped you around in his arms, so that you were facing him, his large hands latching onto your hips as he whispered against your lips “Oh, I’m hungry alright… Just not for lunch.”

You yelped as your feet suddenly left the ground, Gally’s strong arms engulfing you and leaving you no choice but to wrap your arms and legs around his glorious half-exposed body and hold on tight.

“Gally!” You halfheartedly tried to object, biting back your excited grin “What are you doing?”

The builder snickered, deeply, already turning in the direction of the Deadheads as he held you impossibly close, a devious spark flashing in his eyes.

“Staring like that can get you in trouble, baby. Guess you’re about to find out…”

Tags: @seldomabsent @obsessivelycapricious @ultraintrovertedgryffindor @maraudersimp @lattsgocaps @magnoliabloomfield @sherbertscarrothead-2 @moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom @abundantxadorations @izzymultifan @willseyebrows @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @anniemylennox @crazysheeplyca @isaacswhore

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime – One // Wanda Maximoff

story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter two

author’s note: here’s the long-awaited first chapter! i do hope you all enjoy!

Also a quick one – Y/B/N = your brother’s name, Y/M/N = your mother’s name and Y/D/N = your dad’s name

"You move anymore and you're gonna hit a waiter."

I gave my brother a disapproving look as he grinned at my dismay. "Easy for you to say. You're wearing a suit and not a dress that's heavier than your body."

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Y/N, you complain too much. Look where we are! You need to learn to enjoy yourself."

Taking a look around the room, I saw a hall filled with people I didn't know mingling with one another. Flutes of champagne were on almost every hand and laughter filled the air as everybody enjoyed their evening, soaking in the luxuries of a ball somebody I didn't know was hosting. Orchestral music was drowned out by conversations and servers moved through the hall like mice, scuttling around and constantly topping up champagne. I wasn't a fan, as usual.

"Are you both ready? Your father is bringing the Maximoffs here any second," my mother's voice grabbed my attention. "Y/N, at least try to look happy to be here." 

I forced a smile, making her give me a knowing look before looking to my brother and fixing his tie.

"You both know how important this is," she told us for the millionth time, fussing over my brother's appearance. "They're expecting–"

"Well-behaved, respectful individuals," I finished for her. "We know, mum. You've told us only a gazillion times."

She pressed her lips together, hands on her hips as her eyes fell to me, displeased. "If this engagement is to go as planned, I need you on your best behaviour."

"I'm always on my best behaviour," I reassured her. "But okay. I'll lighten up."

"Thank you," she said with a grateful smile, before glancing over her shoulder. "Okay. Here they come. Smiles, please."

My brother looked to me, showing me his teeth. "Is there anything in my teeth?"

I cracked a smile to make myself feel better. "Gums."

He gave me a disappointed look. "You know men don't like women who are smart arses." 

I rolled my eyes at his comment, knowing men didn't like women who didn't like men. But, of course, I didn't say that.

All her and my dad had been talking about for the past few weeks was this engagement. My brother, a very successful author, was to be engaged to his publisher's twin sister, some girl called Wanda. The Maximoffs were an esteemed family and their unification with ours was in everyone's best interests, especially my brother's who was one of the most eligible bachelors in the city.

I didn't know much about the Maximoffs, only that their son and my brother's 'boss', if you will, Pietro, ran a successful publishing house. It had been in their family name since their parents emigrated to England from Sokovia when Pietro and Wanda were children. They'd built themselves up from nothing and were now high members of society, the perfect family to be involved with.

Y/B/N was to be engaged to Wanda, their daughter, since she was getting to that age where they wanted to find someone for her. My brother's name was put into the mix when Pietro recommended him and the rest was history.

Tonight was the first unofficial meeting with them and my mother had been nonstop lecturing me on the dos and don't's of how to act, as if I was a child that couldn’t behave. Of course, it was only a mere greeting. The true engagement was to be proposed tomorrow night, but that didn't matter to my fussy mother who was insistent on making a good impression.

I found myself straightening up and pressing my hands down my dress to rid it of creases as my brother adjusted his blazer. The Maximoffs were being led our way by my father, the four of them all with smiles on their lips and flutes of champagne in their hands.

"Dear, I would like to introduce you to Mr and Mrs Maximoff and their lovely children, Pietro and Wanda," my dad introduced, stopping before us, before looking to the Maximoffs. "This is my family. My wife, Y/M/N, and my children, Y/N and Y/B/N."

"Please, call me Oleg and my wife Iryna," the twins' father, Oleg, said with a kind smile. He held out his hand to my mother, adding, "It's a pleasure, Y/M/N."

They shook hands and then looked to my brother and I, exchanging quick greetings with us. As they were saying something to my brother, probably gushing over his writing as everyone did, I took a look at the quiet twins behind them.

I vaguely recognised the guy and his striking silver hair from my brother's work, knowing he was Pietro. But I'd never seen the girl before and knew immediately that if I had, I wouldn't forget her face. She was stunning, it didn't take a genius to see that. But not the stunning that you glanced once at and forgot about. No, she was the stunning that knocked the breath out of you and made you forget what your name was.

"...lovely to meet you again!" my brother was saying all the right things to impress his soon-to-be in-laws, but it went over me as I found myself unable to tear my gaze from this mystery woman.

Further introductions went on in the background, before the green eyes I was so enthralled with were looking my way, making me blink suddenly. I instantly looked away, afraid I'd been caught, and zoned back into the conversation that was taking place.

"It's great to finally put a name to a face," the girl, Wanda, was saying to my brother with a honey sweet smile and sultry Russian-accented voice, and judging by his expression, he was just as caught up in her beauty as I was. "I look forward to getting to know you more."

"And I you," he returned with his signature grin.

Her eyes fell to mine once again, lips curving into an amused smile. "And of course, Y/B/N's beautiful sister, Y/N. How lucky a man he must be to have a sister as stunning as you."

The others chuckled, clearly taken by Wanda's smooth way with words. In their eyes, it was flattery at its finest. After all, she was to be welcomed into our family and sucking up to the sister was the best way forward. But I guess, I'd like to believe that there was some truth to her words as her entrancing green eyes sparkled with delight.

"You don't need to win over my sister to get on my good side," Y/B/N joked before I could speak, stealing Wanda's attention away momentarily.

She suppressed a laugh, tilting her head as she studied him with an unreadable expression, before looking to me with curious eyes.

"Thank you for your kind words, Wanda," I finally said to her, offering a small smile.

"Anytime," she quipped, biting her lip to contain her smile.

It was oh so wrong of me to even slightly check her out as she did, knowing that it was not only inappropriate since she was to be my brother's bride, but also wrong since she was a girl and I wasn't supposed to do this. A heat crept up neck as I avoided her teasing gaze, wondering if she knew what she was doing or if she was just a naturally flirty person.

"I'm Pietro," her brother spoke, making me look up again. He was directing a charming smile my way as he continued, "It's an honour to finally meet my best author's younger sister."

I put out my hand for him to shake, but he simply grabbed it and pressed a gentle kiss to the top. I flushed at the contact, a nervous smile on my lips.

"Er, it's nice to meet you, too, Pietro," I returned, subtly wiping my hand when he let go of it.

The twins stood side by side, smiling our way, and I realised just why all the chatter in our social circles revolved around them. Charming, distinguished, good-looking – they were the whole package.

Our parents continued to talk, catching up and talking about stuff I didn't care much for. Every now and then, Y/B/N would chime in if a question was directed his way, or Pietro would add his two cents, or Wanda would say something funny, and I would pretend to get along with all of them when I so desperately wished to go home and go to sleep.

Admittedly, my eyes veered over to my soon-to-be sister-in-law every now and then, unable to look away. She was drop dead gorgeous, with bright hazel eyes that looked green like the earth at this moment, and long brown hair that was pulled back out of her face, revealing her charming smile. Sometimes, when she would smile really widely, a dimple would expose itself on her left cheek at the corner of her mouth, and I was sure that nothing else was cuter than that. Y/B/N was one lucky man.

"...would love for you all to come to our home tomorrow evening for dinner," my father was inviting them all over, bringing me back to reality. "It'll be a great way to get to know each other in a more intimate setting. And it'll give the kids a better chance to get to know each other."

Iryna smiled brightly. "We would love to, Y/D/N. Tomorrow evening is great."

"Perfect," my mum said excitedly. "We'll see you all then."

"Do enjoy the rest of your evening," Oleg said, looking to us all, before looking to my brother. "And Y/B/N, it was good to meet you tonight. I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow."

"You, too, sir," Y/B/N said, shaking his hand with a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Oleg and Iryna gave us all a smile before turning to leave. Pietro and Wanda did the same, though when Wanda's eyes flickered to mine, she waved her fingers slowly and with a playful smile on her lips. My mouth opened slightly, unsure what to do or say, but nobody seemed to notice as she turned and left, leaving me standing there with confusion.

"Well, I think that went well," my mum said, and I tore my gaze from Wanda's retreating form. "Couldn't have gone better actually."

"I agree," my dad said, wrapping an arm around my mum's waist with a smile. "Tomorrow night will be splendid." He looked to Y/B/N. "What did you think of Wanda, son?"

Y/B/N looked like he was on top of the world with his love struck smile and relaxed posture. "She's beautiful. And did you hear that accent? Wonderful."

My mother chuckled. "How sweet. You're already smitten."

"What did you think of her, Y/N?" my brother asked, and all eyes fell to me.

I straightened up. "Oh, I– er– she's very nice. A beautiful young woman."

"Right?" he said in agreement. "I feel like she really likes you, too. How cool is that? You guys can become friends and be, like, close sister-in-laws."

I forced a small smile. "Yeah. Something like that."

Of course, for everyone's benefit, getting along with Wanda Maximoff was the best bet. But something about her was different and I was yet to discover what.

—

The following evening was when we saw the Maximoffs next. As invited, they turned up at our front door dressed less glamorously than last night, given the occasion, but appearing just as excited. Our servants were quick to take their jackets and hang them up elsewhere as we exchanged greetings in the hall.

The Maximoff parents were genuinely kind and humbling people to be around, I'd come to learn that when they thanked our servants for their help and asked them how their day was, making friendly chatter. Not many people did that when entering our home – it was certainly refreshing to see. They greeted Y/B/N and I kindly before moving onto our parents.

The Maximoff children were just as kind, though with a hint of mischief in their stride as they moved to greet my brother and I. Pietro approached me first, lips pulling into a smile as he bowed playfully. In the corner of my eye, I could see Wanda and Y/B/N exchanging greetings.

"It's a pleasure to be in your presence yet again, Y/N," Pietro said generously. "You look lovely this evening."

A smile appeared on my lips at his kind eyes. "Thank you, Pietro. You look very handsome this evening also."

"Apparently it's lamb for dinner, is that true?" he asked, taking me by surprise. I wasn't sure if he was serious, but when his sister slapped him on the arm, I figured he was.

"Don't be greedy, Piet," she scolded him like this was a regular thing.

"What? It was a simple question," he said with a shrug, before looking to my brother with a grin. "Ah, Y/B/N Y/L/N, my favourite writer."

As he moved over to greet him, Wanda looked over to me with a knowing smile.

"It's good to see you again," she said softly, maintaining eye contact.

"You, too," I played along with whatever was happening, the usual script at a time like this. "I'm sure tonight will be something special for you and my brother. It's good to have you here."

She tilted her head intimidatingly. "Bol'shoye tebe spasibo."

I raised my eyebrows, intrigued by her ability to change languages so smoothly. Though, it made sense since she was Sokovian, making Russian her first language. Didn't make it any easier to not be attracted to though.

"I'm sorry," I apologised. disguising my attraction with genuine confusion. "What does that mean?"

She smiled, a hint of smugness present as she answered, "Thank you very much. That's what it means."

I pressed my lips together, humming in response. She held my gaze for a second longer than usual and I wanted to look away, but I was drawn in by the beautiful golden flecks swirled into her irises, captivating and chilling all at once. She didn't seem uncomfortable with the eye contact, instead revelling in it with a content smirk when she saw me squirm. I ended up looking away first, unable to hold a pretty girl's gaze for more than a few seconds without panicking.

"I have something to show you!" my brother was saying excitedly to Pietro. "It's in my study, c'mon."

The two of them wandered off before my mum could stop them.

"Don't be too long, boys!" she called after them, before sighing and looking to Wanda and I. "Y/N, dear, why don't you show Wanda around upstairs, maybe? Hopefully the boys should be back after that and we can all eat dinner together."

I swallowed hard, glancing at a still-smirking Wanda, before looking back to my mum. "Erm, are you sure?"

"Yes, yes, go on, it'll give you ladies a chance to get to know each other better!" she insisted, before ushering me away. "Don't take too long though. Dinner will be ready soon."

Licking my lips nervously, I nodded, watching my mum return to the conversation my dad and Wanda's parents were having. They were led into the living room as Wanda and I were left standing in the hall, her waiting for me to say something.

"This way, I guess," I got out awkwardly, purposely avoiding her eyes as I motioned to the grand staircase.

"After you," she said politely, and I said nothing as I took the lead.

I ended up showing her around the upstairs rooms, including the library we had and the many guest rooms. It was a big home with lots to show for it, so the tour wasn't too boring.

Wanda stayed quiet throughout it, sometimes dropping in a comment or question every now and then, but otherwise listening intently as I explained everything as interestingly as I could. When she did speak, she would leave me fumbling for words or forgetting how to speak altogether. I wondered if she was teasing me on purpose, wanting to get a rise out of her soon-to-be sister-in-law, or if she just wasn't aware of what she was doing.

But every time her mischievous gaze fell to me with a matching smile, I knew that she had to be aware of her actions. Nobody was that teasing without wanting to be. So, that led me to my next question. Why?

Eventually, the last room on the tour was my bedroom. I stepped inside first, holding the door open for her as she followed after and looked around with amusement.

"This is your room," she stated, feet taking her further inside as she took in the appearance of my desk, my bed and my wardrobe. "Fascinating."

I was curious to know what she meant by that, but realising that this woman was an enigma in more ways than one, I knew she wouldn't give me a straight answer. So, I said nothing as I followed after her, remaining close as she soaked in my belongings.

Stopping at my desk, her eyes gazed over the papers spilling from closed notebooks, books marked with string and pens littered across the wood. Thankfully, nothing was open and she didn't seem to be the nosy type, so had no intention of going through anything.

"I see you like writing," she noticed, fingers hovering above the notebooks but not quite making a move to touch them. "Runs in the family, doesn't it?"

"I guess," I said, unsure what she wanted to hear.

She looked up at me, smile tugging at her lips. The same damned smile that had been directed at me since she got here.

"Do you write like your brother?"

I tried not to laugh. "More like he writes like me."

She watched me closely, amusement dancing in her eyes. "He's the author in the family."

I mirrored her smile, though mine was fake. "Published author, love. Doesn't make him the only one."

A chuckle flew from her lips as she looked across my messy desk again, clearly not offended by the hint of annoyance in my voice. I shouldn't have been so offended by her words – she didn't know anything about me – but it always ground my gears when people stuck up for Y/B/N like he was God's gift.

"Do you write?" I asked, half interested and half wanting to change the subject. The least I could do was try to get to know her a little better.

"I prefer painting," she answered without mischief. "It's my favourite thing to do."

Her eyes lit up at the mere mention of art, but she did a good job at reigning it in. She was still studying the books on my desk, distracting herself with the spines instead of facing me.

"And what do you like to paint?" I asked, genuinely interested now that I was beginning to see her actually fond of something that didn't involve making me flustered.

She shrugged, but I knew it was a pretence. "Scenery. Landscapes. We have a beautiful garden at home and it's a pleasure to paint." She finally met my eyes again, a smile of adoration on her lips as she continued talking about the garden. "The flowers, the trees, the little pond we have. It's the perfect subject."

The smile that appeared on my lips was automatic as her passion for her hobby was contagious. The way her whole face lit up, eyes bright with excitement and lips unable to do anything but smile, was intoxicating and I tried not to get lost in the moment. It was true though, what people said. Nobody looked more beautiful than when talking about something they loved.

"I’d love to see your work sometime," I told her earnestly.

Playfulness returning, she hummed in agreement. "Only if I can see yours."

I laughed, looking down at my shoes. "Maybe not."

"Well, that's a shame," she said, still playful, though when I looked up, I almost believed her.

She did that thing again, where she stared at me and held my gaze as if reading my innermost private thoughts. Intimidating wasn't the word, yet it was the only one in my mind as I watched her attempt to decipher me. Clearing my throat, I looked away, suddenly aware of how close she was stood.

"So, my brother," I changed the subject yet again, noticing the entertained expression she wore. "You like him?"

"We are to be engaged, are we not?" she asked with a quirked brow, like the answer was obvious.

I hid the smile from my lips. "That's not what I asked, love."

She licked her lips, pursing them as she saw what I was trying to do. My eyes were immediately drawn to her mouth as she did, and I almost forgot to look away until she started speaking again.

"My parents arranged this," she admitted, not losing composure. "Y/B/N is a gentleman and he seems like a kind man."

I noticed how she still avoided answering the question, but decided not to say anything about it. My eyes studied her curiously though, wondering why exactly she'd agreed to the marriage then. Maybe it was a sense of duty, like every woman had nowadays. Eventually my time would come too and maybe I would be stuck in the same position as her.

"I adore his writing though," she added, like she needed to say something genuine to make up for her lack of answer.

"You and every other woman in the city," I mumbled knowingly.

Wanda let out a breathy laugh. "I'm aware of his many admirers, yes, but can you blame them? He has such a fantastic way with words. And don't get me started on that first piece he ever wrote..." Her eyes rolled back with satisfaction. "It's my favourite. I had no idea who he was back then, but the words he wrote were enough to make me fall in love. I guess it's convenient that my new husband is to be your brother, the author."

I crossed my arms as I leaned against the desk, trying not to break out into laughter. Not because of Wanda's words – they were actually quite sweet – but because of the whole situation. It was hilarious to me, since I was the reason Y/B/N got his big break as a writer anyway.

Following in our father's footsteps, Y/B/N wrote manuscript after manuscript with hopes of getting published. But unfortunately, he never got anywhere with it. I was also a writer, having been taught by my father like Y/B/N when I was a young girl, but unlike him, I was told to stop when I got older because it was 'unladylike' and 'not a woman's place'. That didn't stop me however, and I continued to write like no tomorrow.

Y/B/N's big break, and the first manuscript of his that got published by Pietro – ironically the one that Wanda was discussing right now – was written by me. I gave it to my brother, hoping he could get inspiration. He ended up sending that in and getting signed because of my work. And even now, I occasionally helped him work on pieces that otherwise wouldn't see the light of day.

But nobody wanted to hear about the young, unmarried woman who writes about other women like they are God's best creation. So, Y/B/N keeps the fame and credit whilst I write in private, unable to share any of my work with the world unless it's in excerpts of my brother's books with his name on the front cover.

"That first piece was pretty good, wasn't it?" I played along with Wanda's words, a hint of bitterness in my tone of voice.

Wanda studied me up and down, teasing smile tugging at her lips. "Jealousy doesn't look good on you, milaya."

I hummed in acknowledgement, feigning a smile in response, though I wasn't sure what that last word meant. Probably another Russian term she was using to throw me off. Of course she'd assume I was jealous of my brother's recognition. She didn't know the truth and she never could. She was also to marry my brother, the perfect author, soon; my bitter state was merely a jealous sibling and maybe it was easier to let her think that way.

"Dinner should be ready now," I told her, straightening up. "Let's head down."

She followed after me and I said nothing else as I led her back downstairs, trying not to think about how much of an ego-boost this dinner would be for my brother.

There was nothing better than hearing everyone gush over the work your brother took credit for that you actually did, right?

"Ah, ladies, perfect timing!" said my mum when we reached the dining room where everyone was taking their seats. "Please, sit and we can get started. It's a lovely roast from the kitchen tonight."

As I made my way to my usual seat opposite my brother, I saw Pietro fist-pump the air at the mention of the lamb roast, making Wanda roll her eyes and me smile at his action. Y//B/N took his seat and Wanda's parents seemed to take the two chairs beside him already. My parents took to each end of the table, leaving the Maximoff twins no choice but to sit beside me. I sat at the same spot as usual, at the edge of the table so my left-handed self wouldn't bother whoever was sat beside me, and take a lucky guess to who sat on my right.

"Wanda, dear, how was your tour?" my mum asked her as she got comfortable beside me, leg and shoulder almost touching mine and making me both nervous and disgruntled.

With a grin wide enough to impress my mother, she answered, "It was great. You have a beautiful home, Mrs Y/L/N. And Y/N was a lovely host."

At that last comment, I felt her eyes glance towards me and I wondered if she was having fun making me squirm because I knew for sure that I was anything but a lovely host.

"That's reassuring to hear," my mother responded as the food was brought out and placed in the centre of the table. She seemed like she was joking, but I knew she was just glad I'd been on my best behaviour. "And please, call me Y/M/N."

Wanda nodded gratefully as my dad began to cut into the roast. Food was served up and drinks were poured as everybody began to dig in. The Maximoffs sent their compliments to the chef, admired our home and were the perfect guests, just as they were expected to be. My family complimented Wanda and Pietro's manners, talked about how business was going and laughed at every joke Oleg and Iryna uttered, just as they were expected to be. It really was a picture-perfect scene and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

Okay, maybe I was acting a little cynical. The Maximoffs weren't that bad, at least not as bad I'd assumed they would be compared to my parents' other friends. They were down-to-Earth and humbled people, a welcoming change from the usual. I just hated forced dinners and being scrutinised under my mother's eyes to behave, hence the clipped attitude.

And just on cue, the topic steered towards something lovely.

"We can't forget to talk about Y/B/N, bestselling author over here!" Oleg beamed, motioning to my brother. "I have to admit, son, I'm amazed at your writing. You clearly have your father's talent."

My brother smiled bashfully as I watched on with narrowed eyes and a tight grip on my fork.

"You flatter me," he said, but Iryna shook her head.

"I have to agree with my husband here, Y/B/N," she said. "Your writing is superb. Pietro, obviously, loves it, and Wanda is a huge fan, too."

At this, my brother glanced towards Wanda with excited eyes and she merely smiled and looked elsewhere, either embarrassed to be mentioned or playing coy. Rolling my eyes came naturally at this point.

"Tell me, how did you think of what to write for that first book?" Iryna asked with intrigue. "It was my favourite one."

Ah, yes, the first book. Apparently everyone's favourite one.

"Oh, it's best not to bring all that up–"

"I'd actually like to know, too," Wanda cut him off, her curiosity getting the better of her as she leaned forward onto the palm of her hand and watched him under long eyelashes.

I couldn't keep the smile of delight from my face as I too leaned forward curiously, eyeing my brother. "Yes, dear, brother. Please, do tell us of how you came to write such an honest, heartfelt first book."

At this, I felt both my parents send me a warning look as they knew the truth. But neither of the Maximoffs noticed as their attention was solely on my brother.

Luckily for him, he was a great liar and he smiled his charming smile and nodded, looking between the four guests.

"I guess it started after my third failed manuscript," he began, very believably. "I realised that there was something missing from my pages. Something real and genuine. Something that would appeal to my readers and make them question just how much they were appreciating their partner, you know?"

As he rambled off into another literary spout of nonsense, my smile faded and I gritted my teeth, wondering how he'd gotten so good at lying without giving away a sliver of pretence. The Maximoffs were hanging onto his every word, fascinated by the mind of a writer. I tried not to let it get to me as he butchered the meaning behind everything I had written in that first novel. Some things were better left unsaid.

When he finished, questions were fired his way and my parents watched on with pride in their eyes, as he answered them with ease. I chose to stay quiet, as usual, letting him soak in the credit for something he didn't do.

"And what do you think, Y/N?" Wanda's voice included me in the conversation, and everybody's eyes fell to me. I was only looking at her as her lips were pulled into a wide, suggestive smile and she continued, "How is it being the sister of one of today's bestselling authors?"

The usual forced smile that accompanied my lips whenever talking about Y/B/N because present, but my eyes were questioning Wanda's as she was clearly trying to get a rise out of me yet again, especially now that she assumed I was jealous of her husband-to-be's fame. Her stupid beautiful smile and stupid pretty eyes and stupid attractive accent were all taunting me.

"It makes me proud to know that he's come so far from when we were younger," I said, and though I was irritated by the way it had happened, my words weren't entirely false. "He's a talented man and he clearly has a way with words. What more is there to say?"

The elders seemed touched by my words and when I looked over the table to meet my brother's gaze, I saw the gratitude in his expression, hiding behind his smile and reserved for me. I nodded subtly, letting him know I was happy to keep his secret as long as he wished, just like we'd agreed.

Chatter and compliments soon turned to the real reason for our presence – the engagement. I tucked into my dessert as I let them talk about dates for the engagement party, logistics for guests and all the other details I could care less about. Only when my brother mentioned my name did I look up, surprised to see all eyes on me yet again.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" I asked politely, glancing around.

"Y/N, honey, lay off the chocolate cake, will you?" my mum said with a smile that I knew was code for 'put the bloody fork down'.

I forced a smile of my own as I lowered my fork and sat up straight, very ladylike, and looked to my brother.

"I was saying how I'll be sure to pick a beautiful engagement ring for Wanda here," he no-doubt repeated for my sake. "And maybe you could help me choose, to make sure it's something she may like."

A genuine sarcastic smile broke out on my lips, though not because I was interested in ring shopping with my brother. I knew absolutely nothing about dear Wanda or her taste in jewellery, but a woman was to do what she was best at – shopping! So, without sharing my true thoughts on the situation, I nodded respectfully and hummed in agreement.

"Of course," I said what everybody wanted to hear. "I'm sure we can find something to suit Wanda's taste."

Everybody resumed chatter about the wedding as I sighed quietly and got back to my cake. My right hand rested by my side and I jumped, startled when I made contact with Wanda's fingers.

"Sorry," I apologised, moving my hand a little from hers but keeping it there. "Left-handed an' all. I tend to forget."

Green eyes pierced through me with a matching sly smile. "No problem, milaya."

Again with the 'milaya' talk – what did that even mean? I returned the awkward smile as I continued eating, but I didn't fail to notice the way her hand would brush against mine throughout the rest of the meal.

Either by accident or on purpose, I'd never know, but I had my suspicions.

[edie-baby]

we're okay, we're alright | lando norris

summary: When Lando Norris has a panic attack, McLaren's personal assistant, Olivia McKinnon, is there to calm him down. Even if they have to penguin walk.

word count: 2337

warnings: panic attacks

When a seventeen year old Olivia McKinnon first joined the McLaren F1 team as a personal assistant to their drivers, Fernando Alonso and Stoffel Vandoorne were in the cockpits, and she got along well with both of them. Fernando had become a bit of an uncle to the teenager, teaching her Spanish whenever she asked, and ruffling up her hair in the most inconvenient of situations. Stoffel was much like an older brother, he joked around with her, teased her endlessly, and was always quick to worry if anything happened to her - he also threatened to beat up her boyfriend when she found out he was cheating on her, but that’s beside the point.

The day the news broke that two new drivers would be filling the seats of the two men she was incredibly close to, it shocked Oli. She was finally getting used to the specifics of the older men’s orders - how they liked coffee, water, what food they liked in what moods, who they were always happy to answer calls from, and who to consistently avoid. And now she’d be having to learn it for two completely new people.

Carlos Sainz she had seen around the paddock, never spoken to nor been introduced to, however after the first few weekends of seeing her multiple times, they began exchanging smiles in passing. He seemed nice, and Oli figured she might be able to continue her Spanish lessons if they got on well enough.

Lando Norris however, Oli had a complicated relationship with. They had bumped into each other multiple times around the MTC when he was there for meetings or sim work, or during race weekends when he hung around the McLaren garage on account of him being a test and reserve driver. Zak introduced them multiple times, sure that a friendship would blossom between the two youngins quite quickly, however Lando was always quick to leave whenever Oli was near. After wondering if she had offended him, or done something wrong, she began to worry and spoke to Zak about the issue, not wanting to have tension between her and one of the men she would be working for. Zak spoke with Lando a few days later, and found out in quite a memorable conversation, exactly why Lando had such an aversion to the small brunette.

“I’m scared of her.” Lando muttered ashamedly. Zak couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, that the boy who drove fast cars was scared of a five foot two pixie of a girl who had a beaming smile and cute nose.

“How? She’s so small.” Zak chuckled, the image of Lando cowering away from a girl six inches shorter than him was one he wouldn’t forget.

“I don’t know, she’s just so scary. I feel like if she wanted to, she could say five words and I would be ruined. Completely, like she could tear me apart in a sentence. I also think she could probably take me in a fight.” Lando replied, fiddling with the bracelet on his right wrist, a nervous habit he had developed after his Mum gifted it to him. Zak merely laughed in response, a fond smile crossing his face at the young driver. He could see from the beginning the two were made for each other, Lando didn’t know it yet but it seemed he already had a very strong connection with the girl.

“Anyone could take you in a fight, Lando. Just be nice to her and I’m sure she won’t bite. Unless you ask, of course.” Zak teased, thankful for his easy going and close relationship with the eighteen year old. Lando went bright red, covering his cheeks with a nervous laugh, the serious eyes Zak was giving him pushing him to flee the room in the mess of flushed cheeks and embarrassed laughter.

I

“Oli! Have you seen Carlos or Jon?” Charlotte yelled, startling the brunette who was pouring over the weekend’s schedule. Olivia looked up, shaking her head at Charlotte who sighed in frustration.

“According to his schedule, Carlos should be in interviews for the next hour, and Jon should be floating around somewhere. Why? What’s gone on?” Oli questioned, double checking the schedule in front of her.

“I think Lando’s having a panic attack and I don’t know how to calm him down. I figured one of the boys would know.” Charlotte rushed out, causing Oli to stand up from her chair abruptly. She had dealt with many panic attacks during her high school years and knew firsthand how hard it was to ground yourself sometimes.

“Where is he?” Oli demanded, already gathering her belongings on the table while Charlotte pointed wordlessly to the drivers’ rooms. Oli set off, jogging through the McLaren hospitality, making a beeline for the Brit’s room. When she got up there, the door was partially open, and that was enough for Oli to push the door all the way open, then quickly closing it behind her to give Lando some privacy.

“Lando? It’s Olivia, Charlotte’s out looking for Jon and Carlos at the moment. She said you were having a panic attack, and I don’t know if you have them much but I wanted to try some breathing with you? You just have to follow along with what I’m doing, okay sweetheart? Big breath in through your nose, one, two, three, four. Now hold that breath in, two, three, four. And let it out through your mouth, one, two, three, four, five, six. Okay, we’re going to do it again. In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. And out, two, three, four, five, six.” Oli attempted the most well known ‘calm the fuck down’ technique, something that never really worked for her but was often good for others. Lando didn’t seem to be able to hear anything she was saying, barely reacting to her presence when the door opened.

He was curled up in the corner of the small bed, his back against the wall, legs pulled tight up to his chest. His breaths were heavy and uneven, and Oli wondered how long he had been breathing like this as it most definitely wasn’t good for his oxygen consumption.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to try something different. I’m going to talk, and I want you to focus on my voice. You don’t need to listen to what I’m saying if you can’t, but just listen to the noise, alright?” Olivia tried again, slowly making her way to the bed. She sank down onto her knees in front of the bed, trying to come off as non-threatening as possible.

“You know, I really like your shoes. I usually don’t like the look of trainers, I’m more of a sneakers girl myself, but they look really nice. But we’ll have to get you some cool socks, they’ll get hidden by your pants most of the time but it’s always fun to have a bit of a secret. I’m wearing beer socks right now. They’re pretty cute, and no one can tell unless I pull my jeans up.” Oli’s ramblings didn’t seem to be doing much to help Lando either, his breathing and rocking completely undisturbed. Olivia wanted to try one more thing before she began repeating the process of different techniques.

She stood up, leaning slightly against the bed Lando was curled on and reached her hand out slowly. She aimed for his bicep, the skin to skin contact startled something in Lando and he jumped. Oli moved back immediately, scared that she had made everything worse when Lando’s hands landed on her own arms, hauling her pliant body up onto the bed and curling his body around her. His head rested next to her shoulder, his nose lightly brushing the fabric of her team shirt, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. He was still curled up quite a bit, his knees tucked close to his chest, the bony joints resting against Oli’s hips.

She heard Lando sniffle and turned to look at him immediately, a choked sob left his lips as tears trailed on a warpath down his tanned face. Oli wrapped her arms around Lando, pulling his head to rest on her upper chest, close enough to her heart that he would be able to hear it beating, whilst not completely smothering him in her boobs. Her hands began brushing through Lando’s hair, listening to the heartbreaking sounds of him sobbing so hard he was coughing.

“It’s okay sweetheart. You’re gonna be okay.” Oli whispered, her lips brushing the top of Lando’s forehead. His sobs began slowing, turning into whimpers and sniffles, then finally stopping to the rare sniffle.

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing from the driver’s lips when he had calmed himself down. He attempted to untangle himself from his assistant, but she only held on tighter. Lando relaxed straight away, her fingers carding through his curls was so soothing that he could have fallen asleep right there.

“Do not apologise. There’s not a single thing to be sorry for, honey. Are you feeling a little better now? Your breathing is much better and your tears have stopped.” Olivia spoke, softly brushing the slowly drying tear tracks with the back of her index finger, the gentleness of her touch causing a lone tear to fall from Lando’s eye, catching on Olivia’s hand. He hadn’t been touched like this in so long, and knowing that she was only doing it because it was her job could have sent him spiralling again, but Oli caught the look swimming in his eyes.

“Hey, hey! Look at me, okay? We’re okay. We’re alright. Do you want to come with me to get you some water? Maybe a cup of tea? And we should get you a hoodie, you’re shivering like crazy, love.” Olivia was so patient with him, allowing him a few moments to process everything she was saying and speaking a little slower than she usually would. She made a move to get up, her arm outstretched reaching for a hoodie hung over the back of the couch that she presumed Lando had ripped off when he first got in the room. Just as her fingers grasped the material, Lando tightened his arms around her, his breath hitching at the lessened contact with the only thing that was holding him together at that point.

“Honey, I need to get your hoodie. You’re freezing and you’ll get sick if you don’t rug up soon. Look, we can shuffle over there together.” Oli held tight to Lando, scooching her body closer to the edge of the uncomfortable bed to reach out for the teen’s hoodie. She got it this time, letting out a breath that she had held in order to stretch her appendage further. She turned back to Lando, his orange and grey hoodie clutched tightly in her hands, his arms still wrapped in a death grip around her waist.

“Can you sit up for me? You’ll feel better once you’re warmer, and you can go right back to holding me once this is on, I promise.” Olivia assured, using her warm hands to coax Lando into a sitting position, his arms still around her, legs coming to rest on either side of her hips as she sat on her knees. His thighs were pressed tightly against hers, trying to keep as many points of contact with her as physically possible, and she would be lying if she said it wasn’t comforting.

Slowly, Oli got one arm off her waist, slipping the orange hoodie onto Lando’s arm, letting him return it to her back once it was pushed up far enough. She did the same with the other arm, pulling it over his head moments after. Once the hood was down off his head, Olivia fixed his hair, small fingers threading through his curls in an attempt to return them to their previous perfection. Lando remained in his spot, eyes trained on a spot on the floor just over Oli’s shoulder.

“How about that water, sweetheart? I don’t care if we have to penguin walk there.” Oli joked, and she saw a flicker of confusion pass over Lando’s face. She figured it would be something to explain in detail at a later date, instead choosing to spin in her spot on the table, still folded up on her knees with Lando’s legs around her.

Olivia slipped off the bed, her own hands covering Lando’s to reassure him that he could keep them around her waist, his body following hers onto his own two feet when she got too far away from him. Oli continued shuffling forward slowly, hands still holding Lando’s while he followed her small steps to the door of the room.

“Are you okay?” Olivia whispered, feeling Lando curl himself around her more, his chin coming to rest over her shoulder, his curls tickling the underside of his jaw. She felt him nod against her and took it as her queue to open the door and begin the slow adventure to the canteen in the hospitality centre. It took them about three times as long as it usually would, and garnered a lot more looks than usual, however a lot of those stares were in awe of the young couple shuffling through the building. The innocence the two possessed while both working in such a cutthroat environment was adorable, the naivety in their unwillingness to let go of each other.

Zak Brown checked his phone when it buzzed, only to be greeted with a video of the company’s youngest employees that he had a certain fatherly protectiveness over. And after seeing them together, much of the McLaren staff were extremely protective of the two youngsters. They were comforted that their young driver had found someone he trusted and could rely on like the two before them.

The connection they made was an unbreakable one, and there was a bright future for McLaren with Lando and Olivia taking on everything side by side.

[junghelioseok]

clandestine. | 01

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 10.3k [1/6]

notes: this fic was originally going to be a oneshot, but i changed my mind and decided i didn’t want to kill tumblr with a totally unnecessary 50k jk fic so 🤷🏻‍♀️ here is part one of a fic that 100% only came about because @puellaigmotum​ coerced me into it like 2 years ago (lmao rip 💀) and also bc i have zero self-control and am hopelessly h*rny for jungkook these days and don’t look at me i don’t wanna talk about it okay??? 🙈

warnings: jk’s massive noona kink, some ~under the table~ action, too much detail about jk’s dumb veiny arms probably, but at least he doesn’t have tattoos bc i started writing this before he got them and i don’t need to torture myself anymore than i already do!!!

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 

It’s always been easy to spot your brother in a crowd. Passengers flood off the train, jostling around you on their way to the station’s exit, but even in the swarm you can perfectly see Jimin’s golden head of hair bobbing its way toward you, a deep scowl etched across his face. “You’re late,” he says in lieu of a greeting, his honey brown eyes raking over your scuffed suitcase distastefully as he comes to a stop a few feet away.

“And you’re just as impatient as ever,” you retort, coming to a stop before him with your luggage in tow. “Think you can lord it over me since you can drive now?”

“Don’t forget that I’m your ride home,” Jimin scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I could just as easily leave you here to fend for yourself.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you tell him, raising a brow in silent challenge.

Jimin stares down at you unflinchingly, and you stare right back. The tension stretches between you, taut and heavy, until every passing second feels like a light year. Around you, the crowd slowly dissipates, but still you remain—two motionless statues locked in a wordless struggle. From somewhere overhead, a monotone voice announces the next train departure times.

Jimin’s mouth twitches. You blink, twice in quick succession.

And then your little brother breaks into a grin—one that’s so wide you fear his mouth may detach from his face entirely. An answering smile settles across your face as you watch him throw his head back, dissolving into laughter that you can’t help but echo.

“Damn it, Chim!” you say, instinctively grabbing onto his wrist when it looks like he might fall over. “Your poker face still sucks.”

“I’ve gotten better!” Jimin immediately defends. “I mean, you’ve got to admit that, right?”

“Nope.” You sigh and hold a hand over your head so you can measure your height against his ever-so-slightly taller frame. “Same old annoying kid I grew up with. Seriously, have you grown at all in the past year?”

“Whoa, too far, Noona.” Jimin takes ahold of both of your cheeks, pinching them affectionately. “You’re only a year older than me, you know. Besides, I’ve been taller than you for two years now!”

“I’m pretty sure hitting puberty at age seventeen isn’t something to be proud of,” you reply, pulling away from him with a mock grimace and giggling when he lets out an offended squeak. Playfully, you reach up to ruffle his hair, scrubbing your knuckles just a little too roughly against his skull.

“Noonaaa,” he complains, drawing out the last syllable until he runs out of air. “Jeez, you haven’t even been back for an hour yet and you’re already being mean to me. When do you go back to Seoul again?”

“Three weeks,” you reply, narrowing your eyes. “But I can and will make these three weeks hell for you. Don’t test me.”

Jimin snickers and drapes his arm over your shoulders. He picks up your suitcase with the other hand, and you thank him with another, gentler hair ruffle as the two of you start toward the exit of the train station. “College hasn’t changed you one bit.”

“And senior year hasn’t changed you,” you say, letting him guide you outside and breathing in the balmy summer evening air. Jimin’s brow furrows as he tries to remember where he’s parked, and you kindly take your suitcase back when he nods decisively and heads toward the left side of the lot. “You excited to graduate?”

He sighs, fumbling in his pocket for the keys as the two of you approach the car. “It’s going to suck. Your ceremony was boring as hell last year.”

“Wow, rude.”

Jimin looks up from where he’s unlocking the driver’s side door. “Am I wrong, though?”

You flash him a grin as he unlocks the remaining doors, heaving your suitcase into the backseat before sliding into the passenger seat beside him. “Nope. But afterward, you’ll be done with high school forever.”

“Thank god.” Your brother rakes a hand through his hair, mussing it further as he carefully starts the ignition and checks his mirrors with all the diligence of a new driver. Once satisfied, he pulls out of the parking space, meandering his way out of the lot and onto the main street.

The ride back to your childhood home is a short one, full of familiar storefronts and landmarks that dredge up all sorts of fond memories. You hadn’t expected your first year of university—away from your family and your hometown—to make you quite so emotional. But before you know it, Jimin is making the turn into your neighborhood, and you can’t stop the way your eyes begin to well up when you see your house in the distance.

As if reading your mind, Jimin glances at you as he pulls into the driveway. “Feel good to be home?”

You nod, blinking back tears. “Feels great.”

He grins. Pulling the key from the ignition, he climbs out of the car and grabs your suitcase, waving for you to head inside. Eagerly, you start toward the front door, but you barely make it halfway up the driveway when it bursts open, revealing your father standing there with open arms and an enormous grin. He’s just as tall as you remember, and looks exactly the same save a few more strands of silver lacing his hair. All of a sudden, you’re a little girl again, running up to give him a hug and giggling madly when he tries to scoop you up like he used to do so many years ago.

“Hi Dad,” you greet when he gives up and sets you back down on two feet. “Where’s Mom?”

“Cooking up a storm,” he replies, chortling. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he leads you into the kitchen where your mother is hunched over the stove with a spatula, delicious aromas wafting up from the array of pots and pans in front of her. “Honey, look who’s home!”

“Hi Mom,” you say, grinning when she whirls around, startled. The spatula, still dangling loosely from her hand, drips sauce onto the tiled floor, but she barely notices in her eagerness to give you a hug, throwing it down into one of the simmering pots and striding forward to wrap you up in a tight embrace.

“How was your trip?” she asks, pulling back and angling your face this way and that. “Did you sleep on the ride? Did Jimin drive safely?”

The last question draws a protesting whine from your brother, who has lugged your suitcase over the threshold and is now seated at the dining table, fiddling with a spoon. “My driving was fine, right Noona?” he says, his bottom lip jutting out into a pout.

“Yes, Chim,” you agree, laughing at the pleased expression that overtakes his face. Curiously, you walk over to the stove to inspect the food, your jaw dropping as you take in the assorted vegetables and meats. “Wow, Mom. Are you cooking for an army?”

“Jungkook is coming over for dinner,” she explains, following you over and plucking up the spatula again. “That boy has the biggest appetite I’ve ever seen—you remember, right?”

You laugh. “Of course I remember. He and Jimin were always stealing bites of my lunch at school.” Peering over at your brother, you fix him with a mock glare before walking over to the cutting board on the counter and sizing up the pile of onions and peppers sitting there. “It’ll be nice to see him again, though. How is he doing?”

To your surprise, a new voice answers your question—a voice that somehow manages to be simultaneously familiar and foreign. “Why don’t you ask me directly, Noona?” it says, and you whirl around, wide-eyed, to face the newcomer.

This can’t possibly be Jeon Jungkook, is your first thought upon seeing the young man standing in the kitchen doorway. The Jungkook you knew in high school was a scrawny kid—all gangly limbs and a nose that was too big for his face. The Jungkook you knew wore oversized white t-shirts that made him look even younger than he was, a look that was only enhanced by round wire-rimmed glasses that always gave him a look of permanent astonishment. The Jungkook you knew was nowhere near this tall, and definitely not this broad.

But this Jungkook—this Jungkook takes up nearly the entire doorframe with his bulk. Dark eyes stare at you from beneath equally dark hair, his gaze unhindered by his old glasses. A cobalt blue shirt stretches tight over his chest, and you swallow when you notice just how much the buttons are straining to contain the muscle underneath. Black jeans and simple black sneakers complete his outfit, and the entire look is so jarringly different from what you’re used to that you are left momentarily speechless, gaping like a fish out of water. Vaguely, you wonder when he got his ears pierced.

And then Jungkook—or at least, the young man claiming to be Jungkook—takes three steps forward, his entire face melting into a crinkly-eyed grin. You catch a glimpse of the adorably prominent front teeth that always made him look like a rabbit, and that’s all it takes to break the spell.

“Jungkookie!” you exclaim, darting forward to greet him. “It’s been so long!”

“Hi, Noona,” he replies, his grin widening at your approach. In an instant, he has you wrapped up in an embrace, easily lifting you off the floor in a display of strength that would’ve had a lesser woman swooning. His hands curl firmly around your waist, and you have no choice but to wrap yours around his nape, squeaking in protest when he spins you in a full circle.

“Kookie!” you gasp, wriggling helplessly in his grasp and huffing when he only cackles. “Put me down!”

Obediently, Jungkook lowers you back to the ground. His hands linger on your waist until he’s certain that both your feet are planted firmly, and it’s only then that he pulls back to get a good look at your face. “You know I’d never drop you, right?” he asks innocently.

“As if I can trust anything that comes out of your mouth,” you retort with a laugh. “I’ve seen you scam your way out of detention with those pretty doe eyes. Don’t try me, kid.”

Jungkook snorts. “Kid? I’m not that much younger than you. Plus I’m older than Jimin, y’know.”

“By a month!” your brother protests from the dining room, his blond head popping up from behind the vase of daisies serving as a centerpiece.

“Month and a half,” Jungkook stage-whispers to you, cupping a hand and bringing his mouth to your ear conspiratorially. His breath tickles your cheek, and you swat him away with a giggle that becomes a full-on laugh when Jimin lets out an offended cry and rises to his feet. Striding over, he pokes Jungkook squarely in the chest, his eyes narrowed.

“I invite you over to my house and this is the thanks I get?”

Your dad chooses that moment to interrupt from the living room. “Your house? When exactly did you start paying rent, Jimin?”

Jimin’s jaw drops. “Are you taking his side?” he asks in disbelief, glaring at Jungkook when he starts laughing. “I’m your son!”

“I’m your father,” your dad replies.

“And I’m your mother,” your mom pipes up, brandishing a spoon. “And I’m telling all of you to get your butts over to that dining table in the next ten seconds, or no dinner for any of you.”

Your dad, Jimin, and Jungkook immediately fall silent, cowed by her proclamation. Grinning, you join your mother at the counter, grabbing a handful of spoons and accepting the platter of kimchi she hands over. “Direct as always, Mom.”

She laughs and picks up a bowl of rice. “To deal with men like them? You have to be.”

Food in hand, you make your way into the dining room. The table is set, the steaming food arranged neatly in the center, and you watch as your mother takes her seat next to Jimin and leaves you to sit beside Jungkook on the opposite side. Your father beams from his spot at the head of the table, glancing at each of you in turn before turning and giving your shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

“Look at you kids, all sitting at the same table again.” He sighs, and you’re certain that he’s thinking back to the last time all of you were together—well over a year ago, at this point. “It’s a shame that your parents couldn’t join us, though, Jungkook.”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, they told me to apologize on their behalf. They have tickets for the theatre tonight, and couldn’t get a refund on them.”

Your father laughs and waves the apology off. “I’m sure we’ll catch them next time,” he says. “Pretty hard to avoid each other when you live next door, isn’t it?”

“Definitely,” Jungkook agrees with a chuckle. Then he turns to you, the silver hoops in his ears glinting in the light from the overhead chandelier. “I’m sure they’ll drop by soon to see you, Noona. Mom wants to hear all about Seoul—I think she’s worried about sending me so far away by myself.”

“Junghyun stayed in Busan for university, didn’t he?” your mom asks.

Jungkook nods. “Yep, he still lives downtown and everything. He wanted to come over tonight, but his work wouldn’t let him take the time off.”

Your mom sighs. “That’s such a shame. Is he at least attending your graduation?”

“He’s driving in the day after tomorrow for the ceremony,” Jungkook confirms. Then he pauses, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His gaze flickers down to the plate of sweet potatoes on the other side of the table, and before he can even open his mouth, your mother is already passing him the plate. He thanks her with an embarrassed chuckle but digs into the food nonetheless, and everyone else takes it as a sign to follow suit. You’re in the middle of scooping rice into your bowl when Jimin speaks up again.

“So what’s it like living in Seoul?” he asks, his cheeks bulging with pork belly. “You have roommates, right?”

“Suitemates,” you correct. “But yeah, I live with three other people. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jennie are all great though, so it hasn’t been a problem.”

Jungkook pauses mid-chew to gape at you. “You live with guys?”

“My building’s co-ed,” you explain. “We all have separate bedrooms, but we share a common space and bathrooms.”

Your mother—on the lookout for any potential future grandchildren, as always—perks up. “Namjoon and Hoseok sound like nice boys. Are you friends?”

“Yes, Mom,” you sigh. “We’re friends. Just friends.” And then before she can ask about whether or not any other boys have caught your eye, you quickly turn back to your brother. “So, what’s your plan for next year? Are you and Jungkook living together?”

Jimin hums. “Yep, that’s the plan. Unless you want to live with us too, Noona.”

You laugh. “Why, so I can protect you from all the bullies like I did in elementary school?”

He flashes you a cheeky grin. “More like so I can protect you from all the weird college guys. Who’s this Hoseok guy anyway? Do I need to beat him up?”

“Please don’t beat up Hobi,” you entreaty, giggling when he pretends to crack his knuckles. “Or Joon!” you add quickly when he remains undeterred and makes to stand up from the table to defend your honor. Balling up your napkin, you throw it at him, and both of you burst into hysterics when your makeshift weapon bounces off his forehead and straight into his glass of water. The rest of dinner passes in a haze of similarly playful antics and happy chatter, and by the time the last bowl is scraped clean, it feels as if you’d never even left.

“I’ll do the dishes,” you volunteer, standing up and gathering up the empty platters. Jungkook and Jimin are quick to jump to your aid, collecting any utensils that you missed, and you offer them a grateful smile as they follow you into the kitchen.

“Let me do the washing, Noona.” Jungkook rolls up the sleeves of his cobalt blue shirt to expose a familiar silver watch glinting on his left wrist—a watch that his father handed down to him when he was sixteen, and that had been worn by his grandfather before him. You still remember the day he’d first worn it to school, proudly displaying it even though the band was too loose around his narrow wrist.

He’s grown into it now, you realize. The watch no longer flops around like it used to, and sits snugly in place instead. Your eyes trace the silver buckle on the inside of his wrist before trailing up to follow the network of thin, branching veins in his forearm, admiring the smooth flex of muscle as he grabs a sponge from the wire rack hanging above the sink and squirts some dish soap onto the surface.

“I’ll dry,” Jimin chirps, selecting a towel and brandishing it. “Noona, do you want to help me? We’ll finish faster that way.”

Nodding, you pull another towel out from the drawer and rejoin the two boys at the sink. Jungkook washes quickly and efficiently, and you determinedly avoid staring at the way water trickles along the patchwork veins on his hands as he gives you bowl after bowl to dry.

It doesn’t take long for all the dishes to be washed and dried. The three of you take the time to put them back into the proper cabinets before bidding your parents a good night, heading out onto the back porch. Falling back into old routines feels like second nature, so you plop down onto the steps without hesitation and grin when Jungkook takes a seat beside you.

“Wait, I almost forgot!” Jimin exclaims, bouncing up from where he was beginning to sit down next to Jungkook. “I bought some beer earlier and left it in the trunk. Be right back!”

You watch your brother run off, his floppy blond hair a stark contrast with the deep blue evening sky. In seconds, he’s disappeared around the corner of the house, leaving you and Jungkook alone on the porch steps.

“Chim really hasn’t changed one bit,” you remark with a laugh, turning toward your dark-haired companion.

Jungkook chuckles. “The kid loves his alcohol, that’s for sure.”

“Please.” You elbow him in the ribs. “I know you’re just as bad as he is.”

“Maybe,” he concedes with another chuckle. “But come on, Noona, you can’t tell me you don’t enjoy a drink every now and then. What about all that college stress?”

You hum, leaning back on your hands and staring up at the sky where the full moon is just beginning to rise, surrounded by a smattering of stars peeking through the velvety darkness of night. “I never said that I didn’t enjoy a drink, or five.” Jungkook laughs at your remark, and you smile before letting out a soft sigh. “I’m glad Jimin got the beer, though. Maybe I’ll finally be able to stop stressing out about my internship.”

That sobers Jungkook up immediately, his eyes widening as he peers down at you and lays a gentle hand on your back. “Are you still worried? You already got the job, didn’t you?”

You nod slowly, thinking back to the job offer that you had accepted at the end of the semester. It had been difficult finding a company in your desired field that offered internships to first-year students, but with dogged persistence and a lot of luck, you’d managed to snag a summer position. It isn’t due to start for another three weeks, however, and while you’re grateful for the chance to visit your family, part of you also wishes that you didn’t have to wait such a long time. “I just have no idea what to expect, you know? The only jobs I’ve ever had were in retail and food service, and that was all ages ago. I don’t feel ready at all.”

A strong arm settles across your shoulders, and you look up to see Jungkook gazing down at you with something indiscernible sparkling in his deep brown eyes. “You’re gonna be amazing,” he murmurs, his voice whisper-soft. “You know that, right? You always are. This won’t be any different.”

And you believe him. Every detail of his face is bathed in silvery moonlight—the gentle slope of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw, the little scar high on his cheekbone—and you wonder how you never realized how handsome he is before now. And maybe it’s the low, soothing timbre of his voice, or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you—with unspeakable tenderness and gentle affection glimmering in his irises—but you lean in before you can even realize what you’re doing. You don’t look away, and neither does he.

Jungkook’s gaze drops, trailing down the slope of your cheeks until it lands on the curve of your mouth. He hesitates for a split second, his throat bobbing harshly as he swallows and sucks in a breath.

And then his lips are pressing against yours—soft and tentative and just a little bit chapped. Your eyes flutter shut almost on instinct, your body relaxing as he shifts and pulls you a little more firmly against him. Slowly, his arm finds its way to the curve of your waist and settles there. Your fingers curl around his nape, carding through his silky hair.

It’s only when Jungkook’s tongue darts out to run along the seam of your lips that reality comes crashing back down, your stomach plummeting down to somewhere around your toes as you wrench away from his embrace. “Kookie!” you gasp, your breathing labored. “We can’t!”

Jungkook blinks, momentarily entrancing you with the way the stars reflect in his gaze like glittering diamonds. “Why not?” he asks, reaching out for you again. “You kissed me back, didn’t you?”

Squeaking, you bat his hands away. “Jungkook, no! We can’t! You’re Jimin’s best friend, and god, this is all kinds of weird, and—“

The dark-haired young man looks like he wants to protest more, but the sound of footsteps coming back around the house sends both of you scooting back to your original positions on the porch steps. Jimin appears two seconds later, plopping down beside Jungkook cheerfully and dropping a six-pack of beer at his feet.

“What’d I miss?” he asks, seemingly oblivious to the tension lingering in the air as he pops open a bottle and hands it to you.

“Nothing,” you say immediately, accepting the proffered beer. The cool glass bottle is a welcome relief, and you hurriedly take a long sip when your mind unwillingly begins to wander back to just how warm and soft your dark-haired companion’s lips had been.

Jungkook is much slower to respond to Jimin’s question. His shoulders slump as he reaches down to grab a drink of his own, twisting the cap open viciously and taking a swig. “Yeah,” he mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nothing at all.”

Luck must be on your side, because Jimin doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss as he grabs a beer for himself and flops backward, resting his weight on his elbows as he gazes up at the night sky. “It’s nice out,” he remarks, looking utterly at ease.

You are anything but. Beside you, Jungkook is sipping pensively on his beer, and you are painfully aware of the heat radiating off his body. Jimin is still chattering away, rambling about whatever pops into his head, and you take the opportunity to sneak a glance at Jungkook. His face is cast in silvery luminescence from the moon, his mouth pulled down into a deep, contemplative frown—and you are once again forced to shake off thoughts of how nice it felt to have his mouth pressed against yours.

This is Jeon Jungkook, you tell yourself sternly. Friend, neighbor, and Jimin’s best friend in the entire universe. You kissed him, sure, but it was a mistake. A moment of weakness. And it won’t happen again.

You repeat that over and over, silently reciting it in your head like a mantra, until, at last, you finally start to believe it.

///

You’re in the middle of brewing a fresh pot of coffee after a lazy morning spent sleeping in when you spot Jungkook outside through the kitchen window. He’s standing in the yard in a sleeveless white tee, wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand as he thoughtfully regards the row of hedges that serves as the property line between your house and the Jeons’ house next door. In his other hand is a shovel, and you can’t help the way your gaze automatically traces his exposed biceps, admiring the way they flex when he finally selects a spot and begins digging.

“Is the coffee done yet, Noona?”

Jimin’s voice yanks your attention away from your gardening neighbor, your vision overtaken by a mess of fluffy blond bedhead as he sneaks into the space between you and the counter and obnoxiously cuts you off from the pot of fresh brew. “Hey!” you protest, but Jimin just gives you a cheeky wink before grabbing a mug and pouring out a generous helping of piping hot coffee. After a moment’s thought, he pours you a mug as well, handing it over with an exaggerated bow.

You roll your eyes, but accept the warm cup nonetheless. Following him into the living room, you make yourself comfortable on the couch as he flops down onto the carpeted floor and turns on the television. Idly, he begins flipping through the channels in search for something to watch, and you endure random snippets of the morning news, a cheesy soap opera, and a series of infomercials before sighing and rising to your feet again. “I’m getting some food. Want some toast, Chimchim?”

“Mmm. Sure.”

Slowly, you meander your way back into the kitchen. Your mother is standing at the counter stirring sugar into her coffee, and you smile as you walk up to join her. “Morning, Mom.”

“Good morning, sweetie,” she says, taking a careful sip of her drink. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a log,” you reply with a grin. Grabbing the loaf of bread off the counter, you pull out a few slices and shove them in the toaster. “Do you want toast? I’m making some for me and Chimchim.”

“Just one slice for me,” she says, opening up the dish cabinet and pulling out three plates. Obligingly, you hand her one of the two freshly toasted slices and drop the other onto your plate. Popping some more bread into the toaster, you’re just about to grab the jam from the fridge when there’s a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it!” Jimin yells from the living room. You hear the soft pad of his footsteps in the hallway and the low creak of the front door as it swings open—and then your brother is snorting out a laugh at whoever is on your doorstep. “Dude, why are you covered in dirt?”

You’re beginning to have a sneaking suspicion as to who your guest is, and it’s confirmed when your brother’s question is answered.

“I’m helping Mom plant some hydrangeas out back,” Jungkook’s voice explains, his tall figure stepping into view a moment later. “Can you come help me lift the bushes?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “You could’ve just texted me.”

“Who knows if you would’ve answered?” Jungkook asks, laughing. “Knowing you, you’d just leave me on read. Besides—” and here he glances over at you, dark eyes glimmering with an emotion that you can’t quite pinpoint, “—I wouldn’t get to see two of my favorite ladies if I didn’t stop by.”

Jimin pretends to vomit at the line, but your mother laughs delightedly as Jungkook takes another step into the foyer and flashes her a winning grin. “Good morning, Jungkookie,” she greets him. “Have you eaten breakfast yet? {Name} was just making some toast, and we’ve got fresh coffee.”

Jungkook’s gaze slides over to you again, taking in the flannel pajama pants and oversized t-shirt you’re wearing. “Thanks, Mrs. Park,” he says, though his eyes never leave yours. “I ate already, but coffee sounds wonderful.”

You are beginning to feel increasingly vulnerable as Jungkook continues looking unblinkingly in your direction. Thankfully, your mom pipes up, drawing his attention away with a decisive clap of her hands. “Coffee it is, then!” she says brightly. “{Name}, why don’t you grab Jungkook a cup?”

Hurriedly, you turn toward the cabinets, trying your best to ignore Jungkook as he chats comfortably with your family. Your success is limited though, and you can feel his penetrating stare lingering on your back even as you fetch a mug and fill it up to the brim.

“Noona.” Jungkook’s voice comes from behind you, much closer than you remember him being. “Can I have some cream and sugar, please?”

Somehow, you manage to reply without stammering. “Yeah. Sure.” Dumping some of the excess coffee into the sink, you spoon in some sugar and give it a quick stir. Just as you turn toward the refrigerator for the cream, a strong arm cuts you off.

“I got it, Noona,” Jungkook murmurs, backing you up against the counter as he tucks the little white carton into your outstretched hand. His proximity has your heart skipping several beats, and you almost drop the carton entirely when he speaks again in a husky whisper, his mouth at the shell of your ear. “Just a little bit, please.”

You are acutely aware of the heat radiating off of his body, warming your back and flushing your cheeks. Quietly, you open up the carton and pour a splash of cream into his mug, the swirl of white melding with the dark liquid within. “Is—is that enough?”

Jungkook reaches around you to open up the silverware drawer, grabbing a spoon and giving the coffee a stir. “That’s perfect,” he purrs, his hot breath stirring gooseflesh on the back of your neck.

This close to him, it’s easy to forget where you are and who you’re with, but you somehow manage to regain enough of your senses to wrench away and reclaim your personal space. “G-great,” you stammer, picking up the mug and shoving it into his hands, determinedly ignoring the ripple of his arm muscles as he accepts. “Um. Chim. Did you want your toast?”

“Yes, please,” Jimin says, barely glancing up from where he’s made himself comfortable at the kitchen island, idly playing on his phone.

Your mother pokes her head around the doorframe of the adjoining laundry room, where she has clearly started a fresh load if the sound of splashing water is anything to go by. “Don’t make your sister do all of the work, Jimin. Go help her—it’s your food, isn’t it?”

Obligingly, Jimin hops off the stool and grabs his favorite jar of jam, joining you at the counter. He takes the slice of toast you offer him, slathering it messily and taking an enormous bite. “Thanks for breakfast, Noona,” he says, blowing you an exaggerated kiss. “Ready, Kook?”

Jungkook raises his mug of coffee in acknowledgement. “Ready.” Then his gaze flickers back to you, twinkling with silent mirth. “And Noona—thanks. The coffee’s delicious.”

You can’t find the words to answer. Silently, you watch him disappear out the front door with Jimin, following his dark head of hair as it bobs across the yard. His biceps flex as he gestures for Jimin to help him lift a hydrangea bush, and your eyes linger on the stretch of defined muscle, tracing the network of prominent veins running along his forearm before your brain can caution you to stop. It’s almost as if you’re on autopilot, and by the time you zone back in, your gaze has wandered too far south for your liking. Letting out an audible groan, you tear your eyes away from the mouthwatering view of his thick thighs and return to your now-cold breakfast. And you don’t think about Jeon Jungkook again, pushing the image of his broad shoulders and handsome face into the darkest recesses of your mind.

Or at least, that was the plan. Jimin comes back inside after about an hour, tracking mud through half the house before your mother reprimands him and orders him to take off his shoes. Jungkook, thankfully, chose to return to his own home as well, and you immediately banish the thought of him showering off all the sweat and grime that has no doubt accumulated on his toned body. You shove away the mental image of water slicking his golden skin and collecting in the hollows of his collarbones, and when your mind conjures up pictures of what lies south of his waist, you resist the urge to scream into the pile of freshly laundered pillowcases your mom presses into your arms.

You’re just about to head upstairs to scream into a real pillow when there’s another knock on your front door—a familiar cadence that you heard just this morning. And that’s when you realize—to your complete and utter dismay—that Jeon Jungkook isn’t done tormenting you yet. Not by a long shot.

“You again? You do realize that this isn’t your house, right?” you ask, swinging open the door and thanking whatever gods may be out there that your voice remains steady. Then you raise a brow, glancing down at his change in attire. “Wait, why are you wearing a suit?”

Jungkook gives you an infuriatingly impish grin. “Do I need a reason?” His hair is still damp from the shower, a stray lock flopping down across his forehead, and as you watch him brush it away absently, you notice that he’s holding something in his free hand.

“What’s that?” you ask curiously.

Footsteps sound from behind you, interrupting before he can answer. “Jungkookie?” your mother asks, appearing at the foot of the stairs. “I thought I heard your voice. Are you here for Jimin again?”

Jungkook flashes her a winning smile and raises the garment bag he’s holding. “No, I was actually hoping to get some advice. I’ve got my suit ready to go for graduation tomorrow, but I can’t decide which shirt looks better. My mom likes how I look in blue, but I wanted a second opinion from you and Noona.”

To your utter annoyance, your mother coos and gestures for him to come in. He’s already wearing the blue shirt—a pale periwinkle one that reminds you of a cloudless day—but your mom takes the garment bag out of his hand and unzips it to look inside. “What are your options?” she asks.

“Blue, red, and yellow,” Jungkook replies, pulling each shirt off its hanger and holding them up to his chest in turn. “What do you think, Mrs. Park?”

“The blue is lovely,” your mom says thoughtfully, straightening his collar. “But this shade of yellow looks nice too. A handsome young man like you—you really can’t go wrong with any of these.”

Jungkook grins and scratches behind his ear, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Thanks, Mrs. Park.”

The dryer chooses that moment to beep shrilly, signalling the end of its cycle, and your mother darts off to tend to it, leaving you and Jungkook alone in the living room.

“What about you, Noona?” Jungkook asks, just as you’re about to try and sneak out under the pretense of helping with the laundry. “Which shirt do you like?”

“Does it matter?” you ask. “It’s just going to be hidden underneath those horrible black trash bags they make you wear.”

He laughs. “Sure, but what about before and after? You know my mom’s going to want to take a million pictures.”

“Can’t argue there.” Resigning yourself to your fate, you put your stack of clean pillowcases down on the arm of the couch and cross your arms over your chest. “Show them to me again?”

Jungkook raises the yellow shirt, holding it up for a few seconds before swapping it out for the red. “Well?”

You pause to consider it. “Red,” you decide after some deliberation, pointing at your choice. It’s a deep crimson color—almost burgundy—and you rub the silky material between your fingertips before taking it and replacing it onto its hanger. Jungkook joins you with the yellow shirt, his arm bumping into yours as you both reach for the garment bag, and even though you flinch away from the contact, Jungkook doesn’t let you stray very far. A strong hand clamps down around your forearm, and you inhale sharply when he backs you up against the wall and cages you in with his solid body.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Jungkook looks thoroughly unfazed as he blinks a few loose strands of hair out of his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Jungkook—” you hiss, struggling to see over his shoulder if your mother has returned. “Get off me.”

“Come on, Noona,” Jungkook murmurs. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me. Ever since you got back—ever since we kissed—”

“A mistake,” you say, cutting him off with a finger to the lips and glancing around furtively to make sure no one is eavesdropping. “That was a mistake.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Was it? Because I really wanted to kiss you, and I’m pretty sure you wanted to kiss me too. You kissed back, didn’t you?”

“Y-you—“ You clear your throat and try again, cringing at how shaky your voice comes out. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But Jungkook simply laughs. “Don’t I?” He inches closer until you’re chest to chest, his gaze darkening as it flickers downward and lands on your mouth. Your heartbeat quickens, thudding erratically in your ribcage. It would be so easy to push to your tiptoes and close the distance between your lips.

“God,” you huff. “You’re so—”

His other eyebrow rises to join the first. “I’m so—?” he presses, tilting his head as he awaits your answer. The loose lock of hair flops across his forehead again, and this time you cannot stop yourself from reaching up to brush it away.

“Shut up,” you hiss as your fingers drop down to wind into the soft hair at his nape. “Just shut up.”

And then you’re kissing him—really, really kissing him—pulling him down to your level and sliding your free hand up his infuriatingly toned chest.

“See?” Jungkook’s lips curl up into a smug smirk as he pulls away slightly, his warm breath fanning across your cheeks with every word. “I knew you were into me.”

“God, do you ever stop talking?” you retort, pushing him back until you have enough room to switch your positions and maneuver him against the wall.

Jungkook lets you pin him in place, blinking down at you lazily with his mouth still stretched into that maddening little smirk. “Only if you make me, Noona.” His hands slide down your sides, coming to a stop at your hips in an ironclad grip. “Only if you kiss me like that again.”

So you do. Your fingers tighten in his hair as you crush your mouth to his, and when his lips part you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook—still smirking—relaxes and lets you take control of the kiss, but his hands continue to wander. Before you know it, he’s already snuck underneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing warm circles into the soft skin of your waist. His lips move languidly against yours, his tongue careful and gentle in its exploration of your mouth, and you sigh when he tugs you closer. You’re pressed flush against him by this point, pinning him between your body and the wall, and neither you nor he have any intent to move anytime soon.

The sudden slamming of a door jerks you back to reality. Here you are, standing in the living room where anyone could walk by and see you kissing your brother’s best friend—again. Shakily, you pull away from Jungkook with your heart in your throat, putting as much space as you possibly can between your bodies. “Fuck,” you mutter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. We can’t do this.”

Jungkook’s chest is heaving, his lips swollen and red. “{Name}—” he tries, but you shake your head and cut him off before he can continue.

“You need to leave,” you whisper.

“But—”

“Please,” you say, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. “Please, Jungkook. Just leave.”

Jungkook swallows, hard. And then, much to your relief, he picks up his garment bag, shoving both shirts back inside. “Okay,” he rasps. “I’ll go.”

Elsewhere in the house, you can hear your mother calling for Jimin. Your father is watching TV in his study—you can hear the low hum of voices and a laugh track. Your entire family is here.

And yet, you’ve never felt more alone as you watch Jungkook stride down the hallway and disappear out the front door.

///

Returning to your high school is odd. The hallways and classrooms are familiar, but they all seem smaller than you remember. And were the ceilings always this short? You aren’t sure. What you are sure of, however, is that Jungkook and his family are currently headed your way, with beaming smiles on their faces and colorful flower bouquets in hand. Greetings and congratulations are exchanged, and it isn’t long before you are face-to-face with Jungkook himself, a tight smile on his face as he meets your eyes.

“Hi, Noona.”

“Hi,” you reply. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

Now that the graduation ceremony is over, he’s taken off his robe to reveal the red shirt underneath. The silky material drapes over his torso and clings to the toned planes of his chest, and your fingers itch to run across the defined muscle. Swallowing down the urge, you instead gesture toward his parents, who are engaged in deep conversation with your own parents while Jimin chats with Junghyun off to the side. “I guess we’re all getting dinner after this, huh?”

He nods. “Yeah, at that one place downtow—“

“Jungkook! Jimin!” A feminine voice interrupts him mid-sentence, and you watch in surprise as both your brother and Jungkook are suddenly engulfed in a massive tangle of limbs. Immediately, you recognize Jisoo and Lisa—two girls you considered casual friends from your own high school days. The third girl in the trio of friends—Chaeyoung—is noticeably absent, but you don’t get a chance to question her whereabouts. “Can you believe it? We’re graduates!” Lisa is saying excitedly, still clutching tightly onto Jungkook’s shoulders. She’s pressed flush against him, her chest molded to his, and the sudden rush of jealousy that takes root in the pit of your stomach takes you aback with its ferocity.

Calm the fuck down, you instruct your pounding heart. Stop it, right now.

“Has Tae told you about the party tomorrow night?” Jisoo asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You guys better be there—and that means you, too, {Name}! It’s been forever since we’ve seen you!”

You clear your throat and attempt to smile. “Yeah, it’s been way too long. It’ll be nice to finally catch up.” Unwillingly, your gaze flickers back over to Jungkook and Lisa, doing your best to maintain a neutral expression when you notice the casual way his arm drapes over her shoulders.

Your attempts are in vain. Jungkook notices your stare immediately, a massive shit-eating grin spreading across his face. One eyebrow rises in a silent taunt, and you swear his grip around her tightens. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you instead turn back to Jisoo, finally voicing the question that’s on your mind.

“So, where’s Chaeyoung? I saw her during the ceremony, but haven’t seen her around since. She didn’t leave already, did she?”

“No, she’s still here,” Jisoo answers, exchanging a look with Lisa. Curiosity piqued, you watch her gaze dart over to Jungkook for a split second before returning to you, a tiny smile gracing her face once more. “She’s with her family right now, but she’ll be at the party tomorrow.”

“I’ll congratulate her there, then,” you say, returning her smile with one of her own. Silently, you wonder at the uneasy glance the two girls had exchanged, but decide not to press it, chalking it up to some senior year drama that isn’t any of your business.

“Well, we should probably get going,” Jisoo says after another beat. “We’re off to dinner.”

“We should be on our way too,” you agree, glancing over at where your parents are still chatting, having absorbed Junghyun into their conversation at some point. Bidding the two girls goodbye, you sidle over to join them, trying your best to subtly nudge your parents toward the door.

After what feels like an eternity, your parents finally decide that they’re ready for a change in scenery. The drive to the restaurant is blessedly short, much to the relief of your grumbling stomach, and you are more than grateful for the brief reprieve from Jungkook and his knowing smirk. It doesn’t last long, however, and you mentally brace yourself when you spot the Jeons’ car in the parking lot of the restaurant. Upon entering, you are quickly ushered to your reserved table where the Jeons are already waiting, and somehow in the shuffle you end up right between Jungkook and Junghyun, the former’s face dissolving into a satisfied grin as he watches you sit down.

Then he turns to Jimin, who’s seated on his other side. “Hey, man.”

You bristle at the blatant way he’s ignoring you. But two can play at that game, so you turn to Junghyun with a winning smile, laying a hand on his shoulder for good measure. The older Jeon brother is four years your senior, but despite the age difference, you’ve always gotten along well.

“Junghyun, I haven’t seen you in ages! How have you been?”

The elder Jeon grins and leans in to give you a hug. “Good, good—work’s insane, but that’s old news. What about you? How’s school going so far?”

You can feel Jungkook’s gaze on you, hot and heavy. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle under the weight of it, and you resist the urge to shiver. Instead, you give Junghyun’s bicep a final squeeze before pulling away, steadfastly ignoring the way Jungkook lets out a disgruntled hiss from between his teeth.

“School is good,” you tell Junghyun. “I’m trying to get all my general requirements out of the way early, so my first semester wasn’t very interesting. I took some more focused classes in the second, though, which made things infinitely better.”

The elder Jeon laughs. “Guess that means you’re on the right track then, huh?”

“Guess so,” you reply, laughing right along with him.

The server stops by to take drink orders, and your parents take it upon themselves to order food for the table as well. You continue chatting amicably with Junghyun as the server returns with a tray of water, sodas, and soju; beside you, Jungkook does the same with Jimin. The only break in conversation comes when the server—a pretty girl with a chirpy voice and a nametag that reads ‘Mina’—leans over to set a glass of Coke down in front of Jungkook. He thanks her with a crooked smirk and a low purr of gratitude that has her cheeks flushing pink, and it’s all you can do not to gape at him like a fish. The flirtatious quirk of his lips, the seductive tone—it all comes far too naturally to him, and you wonder for a moment just where the old Jungkook has gone. The Jungkook you used to know stammered every time he had to talk to an unfamiliar girl, and had trouble looking even you in the eye despite having known you since grade school.

But now, he’s nowhere to be found. The young man sitting beside you remains as calm as can be, shifting his body toward Mina so that he can request a straw.

“Of course, here you go!” Mina’s gaze lingers on his hand as he accepts the proffered straw, eyes widening when his fingers brush against hers lightly.

“Fast service,” Jungkook remarks, his voice dipping into a low, indolent drawl. “I like that.”

Mina giggles and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She’s clearly about to respond to him—flirt right back, undoubtedly—but your father stands up and taps his glass with a spoon before she can open her mouth. “I want to make a toast,” he says, and you send him a silent, heartfelt thank you when Mina wisely chooses to make herself scarce. “Congratulations to Jungkook and Jimin, our two rad grads!”

An audible groan rises up from your side of the table, where Jimin has buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god, Dad.”

“What?” your father asks innocently. “I really think you’re rad, grad!”

Jimin groans again, muffled by the sleeves of his jacket. “I want the earth to swallow me whole.”

Laughter all around. More toasts are given, and the bottles of soju scattered around the table slowly dwindle down to their last dregs. Junghyun picks up the one closest to him and fills up your glass for the fourth time, drawing a protesting whine from your lips as you try to cut him off. “Wait, that’s not fair! Pour some for yourself too!”

“Relax, we can always order more,” Junghyun says with a laugh, topping off your glass before glancing around to find Mina. Much to your irritation, she’s already headed your way, bearing loaded platters of meat and vegetables and wearing a bright smile that seems to only be directed to Jungkook.

“I hope you’re all hungry!” she chirps, coming to a stop between you and the subject of her affections. You swear she shoots you a dirty look over her shoulder before turning back to the table, her cheerful facade back in place as she smiles at Jungkook. “Where did you want me to put the meat?”

“Anywhere it’ll fit,” Jungkook tells her with a suggestive smirk, keeping his voice soft enough so that only you and she can hear.

Mina cannot hide her answering smile. Likewise, you cannot hide the way your nostrils flare, throat bobbing as you swallow down the ugly feelings bubbling up in your chest. You can feel Jungkook’s gaze roving across your skin, but you refuse to look at him, stubbornly facing the front as Mina distributes food around the table. As soon as she’s departed again—her fingers brushing across the back of Jungkook’s chair in the process—you’re up and out of your seat, heart beating faster than you’d like to admit.

“Restroom,” you say shortly by way of explanation. It’s thankfully empty when you arrive, and you immediately make a beeline toward the sink to splash some cold water on your cheeks.

It’s absurd—this snaking jealousy coiling in your belly and winding up between the slats of your ribcage. Straightening up, you give your reflection in the mirror a stern look, silently willing the feelings in your chest to abate. Gradually, your heartbeat slows into a regular rhythm, your cheeks cooling, and after waiting another two minutes, you decide that it’s been long enough. Drying off your hands, you exit the restroom and wind your way back to the table, keeping your pace leisurely even when Jungkook looks up and catches your eye. His expression is unreadable, and you valiantly ignore his burning gaze as you take a seat.

“How is everything?” you ask Junghyun, picking up a spoon and piling your plate with food from the nearest platter.

Junghyun pauses mid-bite to answer. His mouth opens, but you don’t catch his answer because there is a sudden, heavy weight on your knee. A warm palm caresses the skin exposed by the hem of your dress, slow and sensual and deliberate. Your eyes widen and your lips part, but no sound escapes. The rest of the table’s occupants fade away into the background, conversations and laughter dulling into a low drone. Beside you, Junghyun is still talking, but all you can hear is blood rushing through your ears.

And on your other side, Jungkook is smirking.

The bastard.

Gentle fingertips skim along your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Your entire body stiffens, but Jungkook refuses to relent. He’s still chatting with Jimin, chuckling at a joke you didn’t hear, and you wonder how he can remain so calm when you are anything but. Your heart takes off in a sprint, clattering wildly against your ribcage, and for a few moments you are absolutely positive that everyone at the table can hear. Any moment, one of your parents will look over and see how wide your eyes are and how warm your cheeks feel. Any moment, Jimin will look down and see his best friend’s arm snaking beneath the table and realize what’s happening.

And then Jungkook squeezes your thigh, and all thought flies out of your head, dissipating like fog in the sunlight. He’s growing increasingly bold, his fingers trailing up until he can trace the hem of your dress, teasing at the soft material. Your breath hitches in your throat, and Jungkook’s smirk widens. You can see him out of the corner of your eye, trying to hide his smugness behind his soju glass, and for a moment you’re tempted to throw his drink in his face.

But more than that—more than anything else right now—you want him to continue touching you.

He’s sliding beneath your dress now, inching down to the delicate skin of your inner thigh and tracing nonsensical patterns there. You grip the edge of the table as he trails closer and closer to the lace of your panties, knuckles turning white against the dark wood. It’s a wonder no one has noticed your flustered state yet, and you cast concerned glances at Junghyun and Jimin before Jungkook notices your inattention. Punishingly, he slides a single finger into your panties, snapping the lace against your skin and covering the sound with a cough that he buries in his elbow. He can’t hide the way you jolt in your seat though, your knee thudding against the table. Junghyun gives you a worried look, laying a hand on your shoulder as he asks if you’re okay, and you hurriedly nod. And underneath the table, Jungkook resumes his ministrations, languorous and soft and deliberately avoiding the place you need him most, as if he has all the time in the world.

There’s a growing damp spot between your legs. You can feel it seeping through the cottony material of your panties, sticking uncomfortably to your folds. Jungkook’s touch is whisper-soft, caressing along your thigh until your skin is tingling, and it’s all you can do to swallow down the whimper that’s bubbling up in your throat. He’s thoroughly enjoying this—you can tell—and you’re certain he can feel the way you tense up when he suddenly drags a single finger up your clothed slit. A low hiss escapes your parted lips, and in an instant, all eyes are on you.

“Noona?” Jimin asks curiously. “Something wrong?”

“I—” Your mind whirs, searching for an excuse. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. The, uh, sauce was just spicier than I was expecting it to be.”

You haven’t touched a single thing on your plate in minutes, but no one seems to notice your obvious lie. Conversation resumes, and you determinedly pick up your spoon again, intent on getting something more substantial in your belly than the fluttering butterflies that have taken up residence there.

“You sure you want to eat that, Noona?” Jungkook’s voice reaches your ears—a low, dulcet purr that sends electricity shooting down your spine. “You should probably drink some water to cool down.”

And before you can answer—before you even manage to reach for your water glass—he’s slipped his hand into your panties, the warm pad of his thumb pressing experimentally against your clit. The slight pressure has you gasping, your heart pounding hard enough to leap out of your chest as you drop your spoon. Your hands drop down to your lap—one gripping the edge of your chair while the other finds its way around Jungkook’s wrist, and you aren’t sure whether you’re trying to stop him or spur him on. His arm muscles flex underneath your fingertips, and that’s all the warning you get before he angles his hand, a lone finger sinking inside your drenched entrance.

“Oh, fuck.” You can’t stop the strangled curse that escapes your lips, an airy hiss from behind clenched teeth. Your grip on Jungkook’s wrist tightens, but it doesn’t seem to dissuade him at all as he begins a leisurely pace, sinking deeper into your cunt with each thrust.

Luckily, no one hears your whimper. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you bite back the sounds threatening to spill out and instead focus on maintaining as neutral an expression as you can muster. Beneath the table, Jungkook remains relentless. Even when your mother looks over and addresses him directly, he doesn’t cease his ministrations, keeping both his tone and his pace even as he responds.

“Jungkookie, you’ve barely touched your pork belly. Are you full already?”

“Stuffed,” Jungkook replies smoothly. He punctuates the word by adding a second finger, and you almost bang your knee on the table again, your eyes going wide at his audacity.

Your mother pushes the platter of meat closer to him anyway. “No need to be polite, honey. Here, eat up.”

Obligingly, Jungkook picks out a few pieces with his free hand and piles them on his plate. “Thanks, Mrs. Park,” he says as he brings some to his mouth. “It’s delicious.”

Satisfied, your mother turns her attention elsewhere. Jungkook returns his to you, and you almost groan aloud when his thumb brushes against your clit again, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud before he sheathes both fingers inside you once more. There’s a growing heat coiling in the pit of your stomach by this point, lighting every single one of your nerves on fire. Your body is screaming for release, and Jungkook seems more than eager to give it to you. He’s freed his wrist from your grip, leaving you to clutch helplessly at the table as he angles his fingers upward. No doubt he’s searching for the spot that will have you seeing stars, and you know he’s found it when a sudden burst of pleasure spikes through you. Your mouth falls lax, and Jungkook grins, thoroughly satisfied.

There’s something building inside you, something that has your tummy tensing and your toes curling in your shoes. Jungkook’s fingers dig deep, his palm rubbing against your clit with every thrust, and it takes every remaining ounce of your self-control to resist the urge to rock your hips into his hand. A bit more of that delicious friction, and you’ll be falling over the edge. You know it, and so does Jungkook if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.

And then a voice is pulling you back to reality, a warm hand settling on your shoulder. You flinch at the contact, your startled gaze flying up to Junghyun’s, and balk when you see him staring at you with equal parts amusement and concern.

“I—what?” you stammer. “Did… did you say something?”

Beneath the table, you feel Jungkook’s fingers retreat, leaving you empty and aching for release. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook wipe his glistening hand on his napkin, a frown that can only be described as petulant settling onto his face.

“Whoa, relax!” Junghyun drags your attention back to him, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I just wanted to say goodbye. I have to be up early for work tomorrow, so I’m driving back into the city tonight.”

“Oh!” It takes you a few seconds to process his words. “Right, yeah. Have a safe drive back. It was good to see you.”

“Ditto,” he replies, flashing you a warm grin. “But hey, are you all right? You’ve been a little weird the whole night. Was it the food?”

Gratefully, you seize upon the excuse. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I think maybe something isn’t sitting quite right in my stomach, but I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it.”

He nods and leans in for a hug. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”

“You too. Bye, Junghyun.”

With the elder Jeon brother’s departure, everyone else quickly decides that it’s time to disperse as well. You adamantly refuse to look in Jungkook’s direction as your parents fight over the bill, focusing your goodbyes on Mr. and Mrs. Jeon even when he glances your way with a knowing little smirk and a soft murmur of, “Bye, Noona.”

You can’t look at him. Not when every movement reminds you just how damp your panties are, your core begging for relief. Not when he’s waggling his fingers in farewell—the gesture anything but innocent. “Bye,” you warble weakly, before fleeing to the car.

The memory of his fingers burns fresh in your mind later that night as you lie in bed, your hand stuffed down your panties and working furiously to find that sweet, sweet relief.

[allthatyoulove]

The Bludger

George Weasley / Reader

Request: 1 george weasley please? i love your books!

Prompt #1: "Can you stay, just tonight?"

Includes: fluff, very minimal description of injuries

Words: 1.8k

A/N: Thank you so so much for the request anon <3 I appreciate you so much and thank you for reading love! Please check out my prompt list! You can request as many prompts as you’d like! Hope you enjoy the story! Feel free to leave any feedback and please let me know of any warnings or errors I missed, thanks for stopping by :)

“You should’ve seen it, Georgie! After, well y’know, you started to fall off your broom because of the immense pain, I hit the bludger right back towards them, and Gryffindor scored! And we won!” Fred finished, out of breath and extremely excited to tell him the news.

I smiled at him tiredly and placed my hand next to George’s on his cot. George lifted his head up to look at Fred and gave him a grin and a handshake before he winced in pain and layed back down.

“George, you've got to stop moving your arm. It’s still gonna be sore, y’know” I said, reaching over to carefully place his arm back on his side, trying to not touch the wraps.

“I know, I know. Sorry ma’am” He said sarcastically, smirking at me.

My face heated, but I stared at him in playful annoyance and rolled my eyes at him.

“You gonna be alright, mate? What happened to him?” Fred said, changing his attention from George to me. He looked at his twin worriedly, and I could tell that the excitement he had was actually because he saw that George was alright, not because of the game.

“Well he got hit with a bludger,-”

“Well, I know that, I meant if it broke anything-”

“I was going to tell you that if I could finish my sentence” I raised my voice over his, laughing at how quickly he was speaking. I could tell this was all coming from a deep place of worry over his brother that he was trying to mask, so it was easy to have patience with him.

He mumbled a quick sorry with a light laugh and let me continue.

“When the bludger hit him in the arm, it hit a bit of his ribs too so there is slight bruising on both his stomach and his arm. The bludger originally broke his arm with how hard it came at him, but I fixed it with brackium emendo. It’ll still hurt a lot and be extremely sore for a while. I think he’s going to have to sit the next game out.” I finished, looking wearily over at George. George was giving me a sad smile. I looked back over at Fred, who looked concerned but relieved as well.

“I’m sorry, George.” He said, resting his hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.” He whisper-shouted over to me.

I smiled and dipped my head at him, looking back at George. He was already looking at me, and smiled as he took his left hand into mine and gave it a quick squeeze. We could hear the students start to leave the field and pass by the hospital wing. A few shouted out to Fred as they walked by.

“Is it alright if I go with them? They kinda need their star player for the party” He said with a shrug and a smug look on his face.

“I know so tell them I’ll make it to the next one” George said, grinning at his brother as he started to walk away. He turned around to look at him and reply in a monotone voice.

“Ha ha. Very funny!” Fred broke into a light jog to catch up with his friends.

The closing of the door echoed, with only a lantern next to George’s cot to light up the room. It was only him and I in the room now, and it became disturbingly clear through the fading echo of the door closing in the background. He had his eyes closed in a wince, taking deep breaths as what I assumed was another wave of pain passing through. I gave his left hand another squeeze and rested my other hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and smiled at me, giving a reassuring squeeze back.

I shivered, suddenly realizing that it had grown quite dark outside, making the room colder. I picked up the lantern sitting on the table next to the cot and stood up, giving George a quick scan as I spoke.

“I’m going to get you some extra blankets, I think it’ll be quite cold tonight”

I wanted to stay with him. I didn’t want to leave him alone in this enormous room, but I also didn’t want to overstep and possibly get rejected. That would probably be the worst thing that could happen.

“Extra blankets? I’m not sleeping in the hospital wing!” He said, lifting his upper body to lean on his left arm and look at me.

“George, you broke your arm! I can’t let you go up to your dorm and sleep on it all night! The healing process is long enough as it is”

“I don’t want to sleep in here with all the ghosts! Have you been in this wing at night? It’s terrifying!”

I laughed to myself at the thought of George being scared of all the ghosts and at the incredulous look on his face as he frantically spoke.

“Alright, alright, fine. But if you wake up in terrible pain, I’m going to say I told you so” I said, walking back over to the side of the cot to help him up.

He smiled in response and began to sit up, looking at my hand that was held out.

“I broke my arm, not my legs”

I gave his left arm a playful slap as he brought his hand up to it and gave an accusing “ow!”

“Say it again Weasley and it’s the broken arm”

He pretended to zip his lips with his hand and swung his legs over on the side of the cot to get up. He stood up, looking down at me with a grin. I gave his broken arm a quick sling for the walk, with George watching me thoughtfully through the entire process.

“Alright let’s go George” I said, finishing the makeshift sling and beginning to walk away. He draped his left arm over my shoulder. I stopped and looked up at him.

“I thought you could walk perfectly fine?”

“I can.” He said with a grin as we began to walk to the dorm.

---

We finished laughing as we walked inside of George’s dorm, holding our stomachs and trying to calm down. George had made a joke about a ghost that would always mess with and scare him and Fred, before that same ghost came out of a nearby wall, making us scream in surprise and run the rest of the way to the dorm.

George shut the door as I sat on the bed, wiping my face from the tears of laughter. He threw the keys onto a nearby table and looked back at me with a cheery expression on his face. Our laughter died down as our eyes stayed on each other. The eye contact grew heavy with admiration, and George looked down at his feet and cleared his throat. I could see a faint blush that was crawling up his neck and onto his face as he tried to find something to say.

He decided to take the sling of tape and bandages off, fixing the sleeve of his quidditch uniform and covering up the wraps over his bruises. The butterflies that had been in my stomach since he first held my hand in the hospital wing became very prominent now at watching him do all of this. I snapped out my trance when he spoke again.

“I better change out of my uniform, it’s quite gross now”

I scrunch my nose in disgust and laughed at him, standing up from the bed.

“Alright I should… probably head out then. Remember what I told you, no laying on your arm. Make sure to-”

He held up a hand to stop me as I began to walk to the door.

“Wait, wait. Can you- Can you help me? Please?”

I froze in place and stared at him, raising an eyebrow and pursing my lips.

“Is this just a trick to get me to undress you?”

He immediately turned red, the blush from earlier deepening.

“No no no, I-”

“I’m joking George of course I’ll help you” I said, giving an innocent smile at him. He gave me a smile back and a relieved breath before he guided me on how to help him get his uniform off. I gently pulled the sleeve off of his broken arm, helping him pull it up and over his head. He now stood in front of me.

Shirtless.

We were both blushing and nervous as I stood there looking at the ground in case he wanted some privacy now that I helped him.

I heard him let out a breath before his hand came out to tilt my chin up. I looked up at him, his eyes darting from my eyes to my lips. His hand went to my cheek, holding me there and searching my eyes for any hesitation. I was looking at his lips, preparing myself for a moment I had thought of a hundred times before.

He pulled me in, kissing me softly. The kiss grew deeper as he pulled me closer against him. We stayed there for what felt like a couple minutes before he pulled away and rested his forehead on mine.

“Can you stay, just tonight?” He whispered, his eyes focused on my lips as his thumb gently brushed my cheek. He sounded worried that I would say no.

I smiled at him as I gently pulled back to look at him.

“Of course” I whispered back.

He grinned and kissed me again, and I lost all train of thought as my hand went up to his shoulder. He pulled away and winced in pain as I realized I had touched the shoulder of the arm that was broken. I covered my mouth with my hands in shock and began apologizing immediately.

“I’m so sorry George I completely forgot-”

“No no no, don’t worry. You’re fine love. It’s just still a little sensitive” He laughed, bringing my hands down and holding them in his. I brought his hands up and kissed them and he blushed again.

He smiled at me and went over to his bed, pulling the covers back and arranging the pillows so he could be comfortable. I stood there watching him, unsure of what to do.

“So do you have a blanket and pillow I could use, or-”

I stopped talking as his face looked at me as if the answer was obvious. I stared at him for a second, confused about what he was trying to say.

“Well how are you going to make sure I don’t hurt my arm if you’re sleeping on the floor?”

My mouth fell open at his boldness and I let out a light laugh as I went over to the other side of the bed.

He got under the covers and held them open for me as I got in next to him. He propped his injured arm up on a pillow and I snuggled next to him. He kissed the top of my head and we sat in silence for a moment before he spoke again.

“Can I be the little spoon?”

[abundanceofnots]

a little (just under 2k) playground scene with Lip and Ian as dads, as per @pink--and--white's request. i apologize to all actual parents in advance.

“How the fuck did we get here?” Lip asks through a huff of incredulous laughter.

Ian shades his eyes from the sun, turning to his older brother with a look of mock concern. “Your memory that bad already, old man? We drove here.”

It earns him a stinging smack on his thigh.

“Asshole,” Lip retorts back. “You know what I mean.”

Ian’s eyes flit back to the scene before them. “Yeah, I do,” he confirms a beat later, his voice more earnest this time.

This, by far, isn’t a new feeling. Lip’s had the exact same thought pass through his mind countless times in recent years, always in a momentary flash of warmth that filled up his whole chest. It happens all the more often now over the most mundane shit, though.

The first time was, probably, when Freddie was born. Then Ian got married, and Al came along, and Liam got to a good school—and after that followed every other quiet (not literally) evening when the whole family gathered up in the kitchen.

In those instants, Lip would stall himself for just a second, getting lost in the overwhelming sounds and visuals, and think, what the fuck.

He’s getting soft. That’s it, most likely. He’s getting soft and sentimental, going on with his extremely unexceptional life, wondering how in the hell did a piece of shit like himself get so lucky, and slowly becomes someone he’d gladly punch in the face not too long ago.

It hits him hard again, this strange sense of pride and wonder, as he sits next to his baby brother on a bench overlooking a kids’ playground.

This one’s the real deal. Everything here is child-proof and clean, with no syringe or dogshit in sight. Frank or some random homeless guy aren’t lying in a drunken coma by the swing sets. There’s not even one bullet hole in the slide. And maybe it’s not so hard to admit that this is actually pretty nice. That this is them now.

Still, the whole thing is, without a doubt, totally ridiculous. Here they are, Lip and Ian—the college dropout and the ex-con, the true sons of the South Side—sneakily munching on their kids’ packed afternoon snacks.

“Dumb luck, I guess,” Ian answers Lip’s question after some musing and takes a sip from Toe’s pink-colored juice box.

Lip hmms before he bites into a baby carrot. “For us, or them?”

“For us. Definitely.”

They’re just two regular dads who carry around lunchboxes and always have a wet wipe or a pack of tissues at hand, ready to blow noses and wipe off residue chocolate from chins and hands. There aren’t enough words in the English language that would describe how incredibly ridiculous this is, because once upon a time, not too long ago, still, Ian wore a jumpsuit with Dav on the nametag and believed this was it for him, and Lip thought the only way to get through life was by drinking himself through the ordeal.

How the fuck did they get here?

“Freddie! Hey, Freddie!” Lip calls out to his oldest, who hangs upside down from the monkey bars, effectively ignoring him. “Fred!” he tries again with an annoyed sigh, and the boy finally remembers how his ears work. “Can you help your cousin on the slide?”

“Okay!”

With a swift motion, Freddie pulls himself up again to grab hold of a bar, unhooking his knees in the process, and jumps down into the sand with practiced ease. He then immediately gets into a run, coming behind the red-headed girl in black overalls who’s been trying to climb the gentle ramp on her own.

“What was that about?” Ian inquires amusedly.

“Early puberty, I think. He doesn’t want us to call him Freddie anymore. It’s Fred. No Fredster, no Fredtastic, definitely no Fredosaurus. Just Fred. Apparently, I went to bed, and my son turned into a middle-aged man overnight.”

“Oof. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. The next thing I know, he’s gonna get a neck tattoo and his first STI. Al, buddy!” His younger son Alvin, at least, seems to have no trouble with hearing. “You need help? Want me to push you?”

“No, I’m good!” the blond kid shouts back from the swing, and to prove his point, he pushes himself harder off the ground to gain momentum.

Lip scratches his forehead. “They don’t need me anymore,” he comments darkly. “I am officially a bother.”

“You’ve always been a bother,” Ian notes before he stuffs his mouth full of grapes. “Come on, Lip. Freddie’s eight. He’s not exactly packing his bags to leave home. He’s still very much a daddy’s boy.”

“I don’t know, man. When I remember what I was already doing when I was his age….”

“Yeah, but that’s different. They’re not like us. They don’t need to be, and that’s a good thing.”

Ian’s right, but the concept of normal as something desirable, something he doesn’t necessarily need to rebel against, is something Lip may never fully come to grasps with. And neither does Ian, even if he says otherwise.

“We might be getting a dog,” Lip says after a while, pausing before he sinks his teeth into a cheese stick.

“No way!” Ian smirks at him. “Look at you, perfect American family and shit.”

Lip snorts at that. He and Tami are pretty damn far from perfect. “You not thinking about getting a pet? A friendly rottweiler for Mickey, perhaps?”

“No. First, I gotta talk him into having another kid.”

That takes Lip by surprise. He knows Ian absolutely adores his little girl, his mini ginger twin that everyone got to call Toe, short for Tomato, but he also knows the whole story behind how she came to be.

“Oh, yeah? You’d like another?”

“Yeah,” Ian admits, and as his eyes drop to his lap where his fingers fiddle with a paper straw, Lip realizes he sounds ashamed about it.

“Not as easy as poking holes in condoms with you guys, huh?” he jokes to release the sudden tension.

“Hah. No.”

“You told Mickey yet?”

Meeting his brother’s eyes again, Ian gives a noncommittal shrug. “I hinted.”

From experience, Lip knows that hinting in Ian’s case almost exclusively means Mickey is fully aware of his intentions and just chooses to ignore them before Ian confronts him head-on.

“Hopefully, you’ll have another girl,” he tells Ian after a quiet moment filled with children’s high-pitched screams and the steady screeching of a swing set. “It’s a lot more physical with boys. These two are already fighting like we used to.”

“Doesn’t really matter when you’re raising a Milkovich,” Ian remarks before yelling: “Hey, Toe? You wanna have a sip of your juice for me?”

The girl waves at them eagerly as she slides down the bendy chute. Getting to a run right as her feet touch the ground, she comes to a jolty halt in front of them, taking a good, hard look at the juice box as if only now realizing what’s expected of her.

“No, thank you,” Toe then peeps and skips off again.

“Polite,” Lip appraises.

Ian gives a low chuckle. “Fuckin’ weird, huh?”

“With Mickey as her dad? A little.”

They watch the kids play for a few minutes. Ian offers to exchange a cheese stick for three grapes, and Lip negotiates it up to five before agreeing.

“You think he’d be against it? Having another kid?” he asks Ian mid-chew.

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame him, after all the shit with Terry. Maybe with a second kid, he’d think there’d be twice the damage he could do. Dunno,” Ian surmises uncertainly. “I know how hard it was for him to even want a kid, and I get why he was scared. Don’t get me wrong, I’m shitting myself every day when I think of the ways I could fuck this up. But he’s a great dad. You saw him with Toe. She’s obsessed with him. The way she laughs at everything he says makes you think he invented comedy or something.”

Lip’s aware that their conversation turned sort of serious once again, but he can’t help not breaking into a smile. “Sounds like you’re kinda jealous of your husband there, Ian.”

“Oh, I hate his guts,” his brother confirms, only partially kidding. “I’m a fun dad, too, you know.” As if on cue, a figure coming their way catches his attention, and Ian nods to where his daughter’s playing, telling Lip: “Okay, watch this.”

Mickey gestures at Freddie with a finger to his lips, coming around the slide just in time to catch his daughter in his arms with a victorious roar.

“Daddy!” Toe announces the good news to everyone around with a loud squeal.

Ian gives his brother a pointed look.

“Fuck, man,” Lip huffs with mock seriousness. “You tellin’ me she loves her dad? What a nightmare.”

“Yo, lunch ladies.” Mickey suddenly approaches them with Toe at his hip. “How ’bout less chit-chatting and more kid-watching? Think I’d remember if I left my kid with a giant fuckin’ bruise on her forehead this morning.”

“Yeah. She’s had a bit of a scuffle with Alvin earlier,” Ian says, reaching out to soothingly rub Toe’s calf as if said scuffle and the tears it brought weren’t already long forgotten.

“The hell’s he doin’ fightin’ someone half his size?!”

“She started it!” Lip counters weakly.

“Okay.” Mickey’s mouth hangs open for a minute before he finds his figurative footing again. “I guess she had her reasons for that. And you should teach your kids to not fight dirty.”

“I go play now,” Toe informs him then, putting a stop to his rant and his bad mood in one go.

“Yeah! You do that!” Mickey replies as he puts her down, matching her level of enthusiasm. She heads for the extensive pirate-ship-like construction this time, watchful cousin Freddie already on her heels, and Mickey drops heavily next to his husband, letting out a prolonged groan into his hands.

“Tough day?” Ian asks needlessly.

“Igor’s a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Told you he was.”

“And I agree, so drop it, a’ight? Hey, by the way.”

“Hey,” Ian echoes before they exchange a quick kiss.

Mickey notices the juice in his hands then and perks up. “That raspberry?” he checks after he’s already snagged the box for himself, taking loud slurps from it to get every last drop. He finishes off with a belch. “Fuckin’ love raspberry.”

Lip finds that anything he’d say at that moment would only spoil the natural fucking beauty of it, so he just appreciates with a private snicker.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Toe yells from the top of one of the pirate ship’s smaller slides. “Come play!”

Mickey pats at Ian’s thigh. “That’s on you, man. I’m beat.”

Putting his fun-dad face on, Ian heaves himself up without a complaint. “Hey, jellybean! Do you think your dad can fit on the slide, too?”

Toe shakes her head vehemently, giggling as she watches Ian jog toward her. “No, daddy! No! No!”

“What, you don’t think I can?” Ian asks again, halfway through his climb up on the board. “Well, take off your socks now because they might get blown off! I’mma fit!”

“Daddy!” Toe howls with laughter as he bumps his head on one of the low railings.

Beside Lip, Mickey imitates the reaction, both his hand and the phone he’s holding with it to record a video visibly shaking. When he notices Lip staring, his grin falters a little.

“These two jokers,” Mickey complains after he ends the recording. “She always laughs at everything he does like he invented comedy or some shit.”

Lip answers with a knowing smile, his chest feeling full of warmth.

Seriously, how the fuck did they get here?

[twinklelilstarkey]

“Please don’t go” with Freddie Andersen 🥺

"Please don't go" - Frederik Andersen

Words: 3.6k+

Type: ANGST

Warnings: A lot of crying from both Y/N and Freddie. Break up. Mentions of long distance relationships.

It was a tough decision to end your relationship with Freddie.

You two had dated for a few months, after being extremely good friends for years. The whole relationship was a quite sudden decision, but right as it started, it felt so right that you felt stupid for not admitting your feelings sooner.

You feel like it’s fair to say that everything, absolutely everything, was just pure perfection when you were together. And that is why what you two shared will always be kept in your hearts:

All the smiles, all the laughter, all the hugs, all the kisses. The way one would always support the other on whatever decision. Or the way you two believed in one another, no matter what. 

There was just nothing bad about it. There were no arguments. If anything there was just disagreements, which if they did escalate, you two would fix it or just calm down in the same breath. 

Ending it, even though expected, was as painful as anything can possibly be. Both of you cried, constantly itching to comfort one other, feeling as helpless like never before.

You two sat opposites on your couch. Freddie looked at the ground, elbows over his knees as he listened to you, and you stared at a wall to contain your tears. Yet as soon as the first one escaped, you were done for.

Sobs in the middle of sentences, almost as if your heart was pleading your brain to stop you from putting an end to it. To what made you happy. 

An imaginary weight, which would always be lifted off when together, had now set over the two of you again. As well as the cold of familiar loneliness, and the horrible pain of heartbreak.

But it was for the best... right?

You got a huge offer for your job, some kind of promotion, which consisted of you moving to America.

It has been so many years since you started calling the Toronto streets your home, that you just know that this change will be unfamiliar and hard, yet the outcome always seems worth it. 

In your eyes, there’s absolutely no way for you to refuse it.

But for you to have it, you have to lose a lot too since work never makes it easy for anyone to take days off. Especially if those few days are to be in another country. Canada, in your case.

And sure, you had holidays and a week or two offered to you as some sort of vacation in a whole year of work. But not enough for you to try and leave everything behind you intact and act as if it will stay like that while you're away.

Whether you like it or not, strong friendships will become weak, the constant communication with your family will not even seem like half of what it used to be, and when it comes to relationships, trust will be tested. And god, even if you trust someone with your life, nothing can stop your brain from thinking of all awful possibilities. As well as your heart from hurting due to missing them so much.

Long-distance relationships are painful and you do not want to go through them. You would prefer to let the love of your life live his life with someone else, then let them wait for you for only God knows how much time.

That decision is the opposite way of looking at life selfishly. You prefer to go through an immense amount of pain if that means that the ones you love will be happy. Something Freddie always loved about you and sometimes would bring it up in conversations.

He also wouldn't let you refuse such an offer and you know it. The opportunity of you going after your dream was more important to him than anything, because it is your dream. He just didn't really know what would come with it.

He didn't know how much he would cry, how much he wouldn't want to open his eyes in the morning to see an empty bed, how much he would come to hate the silence in his home, or the absence of your perfume in his hoodies. It was a whole list of horrible things that he feels while following the same routine as before, yet all it gives him is pain. 

While you were packing your whole apartment to move far away, fighting off tears, Freddie had to work.

In morning skates, he would find himself skipping almost half his playlist when stretching because everything would remind him of you. He wouldn't look up at the clock in anticipation to go home. Or even be quick with getting off the ice when the last minute of work ends.

Sometimes he would sit on the bench for so long that the lights would eventually turn off around the arena. But he would just sit there. Head hung low with his eyes either closed or staring at nothing in front of him, letting his head run free.

Those weeks were rough. If rough could even come to describe half of what you two felt.

Today is your last day. The day to get on an airplane and not be sure when you're going to step foot into Canadian soil before Christmas. Or even see your loved ones before that too.

Your family and your friends have texted you a lot this morning, letting you know that they'll meet you at the airport. As well as asking how excited you feel.

You truly aren't even slightly excited to leave. All you feel is regret. And it's heavy and painfully stabbing its way into your back while closing its fists around your heart.

Why didn't you start dating way before all of this? Maybe that would've worked out in a way. You two could've argued and hated each other for what you've swarmed it could be forever. 

Or why did you have to meet him at all? Why didn't you ignore him like every other guy that talked to you on that specific bar? It would've made your friendship impossible and he would be nothing but a goalie you would see on the TV.

Getting up from bed today was just as bad to you as it was for Freddie. You two both dragged your feet into your separate bathrooms and undressed, pulling yourselves under the water of the shower. The water would soak you but neither of you moved to actually start doing anything else, you just stood there for a minute.

And with that, a loud sob jumped out of your mouth and you're back into your circle. Back to doing the same things with the same make-up-less face, your eyes swollen from tears and gaze fixed in nothing but the tiles of your floor.

Freddie didn't sob, but he isn't sure if he didn't cry either. If tears fell they left with the water falling from on top of him. The water that is trying to embrace him back to comfort, but failing miserably.

You throw the rest of your things inside your last bag and close the zipper slowly. Your gaze lifts up to the mirror of your bathroom and the reflected image breaks you as reality sets in.

You have to leave.

Walking around the apartment to check on everything was difficult as you continue to battle your emotions and throw all the memories to the back of your mind.

After that, you leave the key on the place you had previously planned with your landlord, and off you went into your Uber to the airport with your last belongings in your bags. Ready to leave home.

The driver was nice. He made small talk about where you were going and how he had gone there with his family last summer. He also must have sensed your uneasiness, so he decided highlight how nice the locals were and how everyone would always be ready to help you.

It relaxed you in a way, but not entirely as that wasn't even what was on your mind in the first place.

On the other hand, Freddie's late. Stuck in traffic to be more precise. His leg bounces with stress as he hides his face under his hat and hood of his shirt. All he could think of is how he won't get there in time.

His driver is silent, bobbing his head to the soft music playing on the radio while he stares at all the cars in front of them.

When taking a quick peek at the lines of cars in front of him, Freddie's starting to lose hope, no matter how hard he tries to be more optimistic.

He unlocks his phone as his fingers itch to text you, but he freezes at the picture of his home screen. He still doesn't have to heart to change anything he had with you, not even his god damn home screen.

A picture just a few weeks old, before you even had told him about the job offer. You were smiling at him behind the camera while holding a puppy up to your chest, eyes bright and wide with excitement. And your smile... just as breathtaking as heart-wrenching.

Freddie blinks harshly at the painful happy memory and looks ahead of him as the car moves ever so slightly. He has to at least say bye to you.

"You're going to love it, I know it!" Your mom says excitingly.

She squeezes you into another hug and you close your eyes at the feeling of her squeeze. Your hands are shaking for some unknown reason so you hesitate before wrapping your arms around her as well.

"You'll meet so many new people and learn so much new stuff."

She's starting to sound more excited than you at this point, yet you don't do anything but a short nod against her shoulder.

When you pull away, you look down at your phone, expecting to see any sort of notification... but there's nothing.

"Hey, I want a hug too." Your friend says over everyone's voices as she elbows her way to you.

You offer her a broken grin and she sadly smiles at you, throwing herself and her arms around you. 

Freddie almost rips the door open as the Uber parks right in front of the airport's main doors, not even realizing that he hasn’t acknowledged the driver verbally ever since he got inside the vehicle. 

His feet feel heavy and his legs tired, even though they have no reason to feel that way, yet he drags them into the building.

He walks fast-paced through the airport, looking through every group of people. His eyes scanning every single backpack, shirt, head of hair, beanie. Everything to find you.

You unwrap your arms from around another one of your friends and she smiles at you while cupping your face in her hands.

"If you ever need anything, I'll be on the first plane to you." She tells you and you grin at her.

"Promise?" You ask.

"I promise."

She kisses your nose and that's able to make your scowl break onto a smile, making everyone around you feel a sudden weight being lifted off the air around them, relief.

You adjust your backpack on your shoulder as you look around the group to see if you've hugged everyone and it sure seems like it. Your heart tightens in your chest and you take a deep breath.

"Are you ready to go?" Your mom asks you, laying her hand over your shoulder.

"I think so." You tell her.

She gives you a light squeeze in comfort and looks over behind her to see the line where you need to do your check-in.

"Well, I believe you just need to go over there," She starts, looking back at you, "and get your-"

She stops talking out of nowhere and you lift your gaze from your bag at her. She’s staring at something behind you.

Your heart quickens and at the sudden bit of hope runs through you. You look over your shoulder and your eyes meet Freddie walking towards you.

He's wearing grey sweatpants, a black hoodie, a hat over his head, and the hood of his shirt over it. If it wasn't for all the light coming from the large windows beside you, you wouldn't have noticed his reddened eyes and the broken look he's giving you.

Without any sort of hesitation, you take the backpack from your shoulder and lay it on the ground, taking steps towards him.

Freddie meets you halfway, wrapping his arms around you as yours move up to wrap around his neck and cling onto him. He holds you by your waist securely and lifts you in the air to hold you as close to him as possible.

A soft sob you’ve been holding in falls from your lips, sounding slightly muffled by his clothes, and you lay your head over his shoulder. Freddie closes his eyes to stop his tears from coming up again, snuggling his face close to you.

Your family and friends, when seeing and noticing you two, let sad smiles appear on their faces and decide to step aside, giving you two some space and privacy.

"I ran the whole airport to find you." He says, some humor deep in his tone.

A small smile lifts over your face as you cry your eyes out again, more out of relief than anything else.

One of his vacant hands lays on the back of your head, almost as it holding steady and his thumb caresses the nape of your neck, softly and carefully.

"I thought you weren't coming."

You pull your face away from his shoulder and take a look at him, locking gazes with him. Your hands rest over his shoulders and Freddie looks back just as directly.

"I got stuck in traffic." He explains.

Your hands come up to his bearded cheeks, a small pout influencing your forced smile, and your thumbs caress his skin.

His hand also rises up and he quickly wipes the tears off your cheeks.

“Don’t cry, come on.” He tries to tell you in a whisper over the sound of everyone’s loud voices around the airport.

“Sorry.” You tell him almost automatically, voice slightly cracking.

“No, don’t be sorry.” He corrects you. “I just don’t want to see you sad.”

You sniffle, your hands still over his cheeks, and give him a little nod, almost as your way to acknowledge his words since you’re not really trusting your voice right now.

Freddie kisses your palm and you lift your hands to wrap your arms around his neck again. He holds you as well and tries to swallow the ball of emotions at the back of his throat as your body shakes as you let out another overpowering small wave of silent sobs.

His eyes water ever so slightly and he blinks the tears away. 

“Do you feel ready to go?” He asks against the fabric of your hoodie, leaning his head closer against you.

“No.” You tell him.

Freddie swears his whole body reacted to your words. Maybe it was because you said it so close to his ear and that was the reason why he felt all those chills, but in a way, he knows it’s more than that.

He gives you more squeeze and your heart aches over what it could possibly mean. His hand rests over your leg and he leans forward to motion you to get back on the ground.

You do as requested but your body almost acts as if in denial when you order it to let go of him.

Freddie’s hands lay loosely by your waist, while your arms still hug his neck close to you, making him have to lean down over you.

“You still want to go, right?” He asks.

He doesn’t even know if he’s just checking on you or if he’s just hoping for an answer that would mean that you could go back home with him, but either way, he awaits it.

“I think so.” You try to say, but your voice falls in a whisper.

He forces your arms a bit away from him and you lift your head from his shoulder, sending him a look so broken that Freddie swears it broke his heart even further. He stares back into your eyes silently and observes your expression.

Without thinking twice, you close the small space between you two and lay your lips against his.

The sweet kiss is more than welcomed by Freddie, who can’t help but feel the small bit of hope course through his veins. The relief he felt over feeling you just hugging him again was able to destroy so many doubts in his head, and now that you’re kissing him, it’s like he’s falling in love all over again.

His hand rests in the back of your head, not letting you pull away just yet from the kiss he has been thinking about and needing for the past few weeks.

When you do pull away, you two just feel reality wash over you like a ice cold bucket of water. It’s heartbreaking to the point of you to want to gasp for air. 

You feel horrible.

Freddie looks back into your eyes as he pulls away further and he feels his eyes well up in tears again. And this time, it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Why do you have to go?

Your hands lay over his shoulders even when he stands upright and his hand continues rested over your head, against your hair, feeling it under his fingers.

He breaks his gaze from your eyes to check the time on the screen a few meters behind you. You follow his gaze, hands now sliding and resting over his chest, and your heart skips a beat at how the time flew since you had gotten there.

You don’t have much time left.

Your eyes go back to Freddie and he looks absolutely broken. And that is not making anything feel any easier for you.

“I love you.” You decide to tell him, “So much.”

He looks down at you and brings his hands back to your cheeks, holding your face.

“I love you too.” He answers.

His voice is so much lower and so much weaker than you’ve ever heard it before, it feels like a nightmare. 

It feels so unreal and so scary that it seems like something only the back of your mind can create to terrify you.

You grip onto his shirt and pull him down to you again, ignoring how the tears are starting to come up your eyes once more. He does as you request him to and this time doesn’t even even think twice before kissing you.

Your lips press against his as he lays various small pecks onto them while holding your wet cheeks in his larger hands.

“Please don’t go.” You hear him plead after a kiss.

You reopen your eyes and stare back at his. A tear has been able to escape his eyes and you’re quick to wipe it with the end of your sleeves.

“I need to go, Freddie.” You tell him, fighting off a sob. “I already signed everything.”

Frederik lays his forehead against yours and looks back onto you.

“Then I’ll wait for you.”

No.

You shake your head at him as a sob escapes your lips again and he fights off your denial with a nod.

“I will. I’ll wait for that contract to end, or I’ll retire early, I don’t care.” He tells you, feeling some more tears wet his face again, “We’ll be together again. I’ll visit you as many times as I can. I promise.”

You wipe his tears and quickly lean back to just pull him into another hug.

You cling onto his shirt, feeling more powerless than anything. 

The pain you’re feeling due to leaving is so strong that you almost don’t feel like yourself. Your body is shaking, you feel light headed, your chest is aching as your heart beats just as fast as your mind runs through all your options. 

You didn’t want it to be like this. For you to feel so sad and in so much pain. 

Freddie holds you back before you pull back, squeezing you close to him.

“Honey, it’s time to go.”

Your mom’s voice.

You quickly wipe your tears and lift your head from Freddie’s shoulder. He lets you go and a sudden rush of cold fills your body. The lack of his warmth is almost able to freeze you.

After that and a harsh and hard swallow of all your emotions, you pull your parents and friends into another set of hugs. Rushing back to Freddie for a last hug.

His hand is over your back, moving up and down to try and comfort you. You lay your wet cheek over his shirt, not caring if you wet it. And as soon as you look at him, your chin over his chest, he kisses your cheek.

A last squeeze later and you step back, offering everyone a small smile. Freddie grabs your backpack from the ground and gives it over to you. You take it silently and look up at everyone once more.

A small broken whisper moves past your lips as a small ‘bye’ to everyone that is looking at you and you soon turn on your heels, and... leave.

You don’t look back. Scared that if you do, you’re not able to keep going. And with that, Freddie stays back, standing right next to your family and friends.

Your mom has her hand over his back, comforting him just like he just did to you, in silence. And as soon as you’re out of the view from everyone’s eyes, she doesn’t hesitate to pull him into a hug.

“You’ll be together again. I’m sure of it.” She reassures him.

I hate this, but it can’t stay on my drafts for longer than it already has. Hope you like it...?

[jueunnn]

𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 : ̗̀➛ seven. i only simp for itachi🙏🏻

warnings ; profanity, naruto spoilers(??), toxic masculinity

a/n ; ayo beomgyu??👀 mhm okay we see you

the savoury scent of hamburgers and fries filled the air, the car halted in the mcdonalds parking lot. you took a sip of your drink and looked cautiously at beomgyu, eyes wide and straw still between your lips.

"did you also want the family value pack?" you asked curiously.

beomgyu laughed. "you said you wanted fries, right?"

"oh! uh, i guess i did!" you desperately fought the red threatening to burn across your face. ryujin was right, you should be careful, but something about beomgyu this time round felt... different. if in the past he had sucked up all your affection like a parasite, now you could almost dare to think that you were on the recieving end.

"hey, by the way," beomgyu said suddenly, "why were you smashing your head into the table?"

ah, crap. so embarrassing.

"okay i'll tell you, but only if you promise not to laugh. deal?" you proposed. beomgyu nodded solemnly, crossing his arms in an attempt to appear serious.

"i may or may not have told the very tall very intimidating male who sits next to me in stats that i completely forgot about his existence and do not consider him a friend."

silence.

beomgyu closed his eyes and clamped his mouth shut, desperately trying to fight off a smile. the corners of his mouth quipped up and trembled, before he finally gave up and burst into an uncontrollable chortle.

"hey! you promised not to laugh!" you whined, poking him in the shoulder when he continued doubling over.

"holy shit, sorry, it's just too-" he managed to get out only a couple of words before the stomach-gripping laughter took over once again.

you couldn't help but laugh along with him- choi beomgyu in tears laughing was a contagious sight.

ding!

"ah, sorry! that was my phone." beomgyu said, wiping a small tear from the corner of his eye, "let me check this out real quick."

"did something happen?"

beomgyu stiffened visibly at the sound of your voice, seemingly uncomfortable now for whatever reason.

"huh? oh no, it's nothing." he mumbled, cracking you a small smile. taehyun and yeonjun were definitely wrong, there was absolutely no way he was falling for you. it was supposed to be the opposite way round, this was just his way of having fun! the adrenaline that coursed through his veins whenever he talked to you for the last couple of days was just from the thrill of getting a girl to completely fall for him, nothing else. besides, it wasn't like this was his first time talking to you- he had played with you so many times now, why would he suddenly only now start genuinely being attracted to you? you were just another girl, there was nothing special about you.

but why was there a pit forming at the bottom of his stomach every time he tried to convince himself that?

𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 ; in which kim y/n is severely infatuated with notoriously flirty choi beomgyu, to her absolute rage. getting over a year long crush isn't going to be easy- but you bet your ass she's going to try. choi beomgyu himself, on the other hand, has very different plans. he's gonna try his very damn best to get the girl.

𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 ; @atinyyylove @cha-raena @belovedgyus @pr0dbeomgyu @meiiiwa @chishiyas-backstory @hainaz @90s-belladonna @iuwon @00-baejin-05 @envy-brr @shinkailovebot @lokideadontheinside @loveliestfelix @vantaelic @247byun @milkycloudtyg @jiminaaaahhhh @msxflower @hwallswrld @urresidentdrugdealer send me an ask or comment to be added!! (bold couldn’t be tagged)

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[redrobin-detective]

Just one single glimpse of relief

TW: OC death, death themes

“Hey,” Sydnee looked up at the sound of the voice. It was familiar, safe, and it stopped her tears for a moment. She can’t remember where she was or what she’d been doing. All she knew was that she was scared and upset and didn’t know what to do. It felt like she’d been crying forever when the voice appeared. “Hey there, it’s Phantom. Can I come closer?”

Sydnee gasped as the town hero, Phantom, approached her slowly. Syd was a bit of a nerd and she couldn’t get enough of those superhero movies. She always tuned in to Phantom’s fights on TV; he was as close as she’d get to a real life Superman or Captain Marvel. She’d never seen him up close before though. He was younger than he appeared on TV, not more than his early teens. Sydnee, almost 24, was hit by a wave of mortification over how they’d described the hunky, we-thought-he-was-older kid on Margarita Night. This day just got better and better, not that she remembered it.

“How are you doing?” Phantom asked quietly, floating near her but not getting too close. He was watching her warily but not unkindly. She saw how some folks treated him, he was probably worried she’d throw a shoe at him. “What’s your name?”

“Sydnee, with an extra e not a y. Uh Tanner, Sydnee Tanner,” she mumbled. Ugh why were words so hard. Her head felt fuzzy and very far away, she thinks she was going to start panicking again. What was she even so upset about? “I don’t know what’s going on. Where are we and what happened. I don’t- I don’t remember anything.”

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly, floating a little closer. The soft glow he emitted brightened up the dark place they were in. Was she in a collapsed tunnel? What had she been doing here? She’d never been claustrophobic but the debris and rubble of the place seemed to close in on her. “Hey, hey, just look at me.” She turned and met his kind eyes, soft and easy. “We’ll walk through it together. What is the last thing you remember?”

“I was late to work,” Syd said, the memory popping up before her. “I um work at the Donut Delights bakery in that strip mall next to the middle school. My cats had knocked over some of my houseplants in the night so I had to clean them up and was running behind. I open the store on Wednesdays - oh it’s Wednesday! - so I knew I’d be in trouble. But I made it, just barely. I was starting up the ovens when.” Syd furrowed her brow and took in the hero before her. The one who was almost never seen outside a fight. “There was a ghost attack, wasn’t there?”

“Welcome to Amity Park,” Phantom said grimly. “I’ve been here a couple times; the jalapeno bacon topped donuts are my favorite. My mom and sister buy them sometimes if they want to bribe me into doing something.”

“You weirdo, only crazy people eat that weird flavor,” Sydnee chuckled. “You have a family?”

“Of course, we all have a family out there somewhere. What about you?” He asked gently. There was something about the soft way he was talking to her, the way his eyes flickered around the dark like he was looking for something. He had news he didn’t want to tell her and she wasn’t ready to hear it. Not yet. Just a few more minutes of denial before she faced the revelation she couldn’t bear to touch yet.

“Yeah, mom and dad and two younger sibs. Folks divorced forever ago, I barely remember them actually being together. Mom is is living it up in Dubai working as a pastry chef in one of their fancy hotels. Dad’s an auto-mechanic down on Maple street, Duke’s Car Services. Pretty sure you got tossed through the window a year ago.”

“I’ve been tossed through many windows but I know the place you’re talking about. So a big family, any friends? Boyfriends? Girlfriends?”

“I have a boyfriend,” she continued on hastily, taking the distraction for what it was. “I like him, a lot and we’ve been dating since high school. Everyone says I should marry him and we’ve talked about it, casually, but I’ve never dated anyone else and wonder if I should see other people first. You know, test the waters before I settle down with my high school sweetheart like my folks did and look how they turned out.”

“Mhmm,” Phantom hummed nodding, encouraging her to continue.

“DeShawn is great though, he’s very supportive and sweet in his own kind of absentminded way. He’s got epilepsy real bad though, I have to drive him everywhere since he’s always at risk of a seizure. Annoying sometimes but its nice, you can learn a lot about a person from a conversation while you’re alone together.”

“Very true, I’m learning a lot now,” Phantom smiled. “What about your siblings?”

“I have a brother and a sister, Kennedy is finishing his sophomore year of college and Janelle will be a senior in high school. She was a surprise baby, one last attempt of my parents to reconcile before the big D. It didn’t help but I got a great sister out of it, she’s a real firecracker.”

“Janelle,” Phantom’s eyes lit up. “She’s the one always dying her hair. I see her in the hallways of Casper, she’s hard to miss. I think she draws too, she won an art award I think.”

“Yeah!” Sydnee said enthusiastically, she reached out and grabbed ahold of Phantom’s arm. It was cold but solid. It reminded her that she really couldn’t feel anything, nothing but him. “Yeah, I swear her hair is a new color every time I see her. It’s a dark purple now, it looks pretty good on her. She was a peachy orange for picture day last year. Mom called her up screaming when she saw the photos.”

“I thought it looked cool,” Phantom grinned, “not that I was there for picture day. Ghost attack, you know. My mom was upset with me too.” They laughed lightly for a minute before it gently petered off leaving them alone in the dark. Sydnee didn’t have any feeling in her toes, in any part of her. She felt light and disconnected and all over out of sorts. She was pretty sure she knew what had happened but she couldn’t face it yet. But talking to Phantom, it seemed a little easier.

“I remember the attack now,” Sydnee stated quietly. “It was a big ghost bear only it was the size of a pickup truck. It rammed into the store there was chaos and screaming. It was so loud, the screaming of the customers, the bear, building coming down on top of us...” her lips wobbled. “We’re still in the store, aren’t we? I haven’t wanted to turn around because... because I know my body is buried underneath the concrete back there.”

“Yeah,” Phantom breathed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get here in time. Most everyone in the area got out but you and a few others in the store got trapped under the rubble. Mrs. McDaniels who lived on Eustis street and was the first woman in her family to go to college plus Eddie Drake who came down from Chicago to check out the ghost stuff with their boyfriend and was a tattoo artist.”

“Did you talk to them too?” She questioned in surprise.

“Briefly, Mrs. McDaniels didn’t stay long, just long enough to tell me, and I quote, “stop wasting time on her dead ass and get to the others.” She already passed on. Eddie, they didn’t take it well. We talked for a while and I think they need a little more time to accept it, see their loved ones first. I warned them that the longer they delay death, the harder it is and the more you lose yourself. You’re the last, all the way in the back of the store. When you’re ready, I’m going to bring your body out.”

“Thank you,” she whispered before breaking out into hysterical laughter. “God I bet I’m a wreck, I think I put my shirt on inside out I was in such a rush this morning,” she sniffled. “What do I do now, as a ghost? I don’t have to, like, attack people, do I?”

“No,” Phantom sighed. “Most ghosts are just normal people, no one else but other ghosts will see you and you’re not going to be strong enough to interact with the real world for a long, long time. You can stick around a bit if you want, watch over your family but it’s like I told Eddie, you forget things pretty quick. Or you can move on, that part I can’t help you with but I’ve helped a lot of others go that route and I’m told it’s easy.”

“Easy, then why haven’t you?” She questioned angrily, the full weight of the situation crashing over her. She shoved him and he floated back passively. “I’m a freaking ghost and you’re here talking to me like you’re my therapist or something. Who’s gonna take DeShawn to his appointments? Or praise my sister’s creative messes? Or badger Ken into picking major? My life is over and you think you can float there and lecture me about it being easy to move on!”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Phantom soothed, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry Sydnee, I wish I could turn back the clock an hour, two hours, and prevent this from happening but I can’t. I’ve tried to mess with time and it doesn’t end well for anyone. I just want, I just want what’s best for you now. You can stay or you can go but I want you to make the decision that you feel most comfortable with. That’s all I can do for you.”

“I think I’d be sad,” she said, crying again, “being able to see everyone but not talk to them, to watch them cry over me. I don’t want to forget them either.” Phantom watched her, easily and earnestly. “What made you choose to stay? Why didn’t you go?”

“I’m a little complicated but I can tell you, when I’ve done all I need to here, I’m not hanging around a second longer than I have to. Being a ghost has it’s perks but it’s also, it’s being stuck in a place you longer fit, watching the world go on without you.”

“Okay,” Syd hiccupped. “Okay, yeah okay.”

“Okay,” Phantom nodded. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, please don’t,” she grabbed his hands again. “Please I don’t, I know I died alone but I don’t want to do... this alone. Please stay, ugh, calling you Phantom is weird sorry.”

“I don’t know if it’s any less weird but you can call me Danny,” Phantom, Danny, laughed. It was an ordinary name for a superhero but it fit. There was a special thrill in knowing the ghost boy’s name but it’s not like she was going to be around to tell anyone. It was scary, to think of not existing but also sort of comforting, like a long nap with nothing pressing to get up for.

“Can you tell them that I love them, in my place? I know it’s a lot and I’m sure you’re super busy saving the town and everything-”

"It’s not a problem. I’m sure they know but I’ll be happy to pass on the message,” he smiled and it made him look so young. For a second she was struck by how sad it was that she was relying on a kid a decade younger than her for support. But he was here and he was kind and he was what she needed right now. Maybe one day, he’d have his own person talking him through this last step. 

“Okay, Danny, thanks really. For talking, for staying. I’m scared but I, I think I’m ready.” She closed her eyes and squeezed his hands tightly. “Do you, will it hurt?”

“No,” he said, his voice warm despite his inherent chill. “No, Sydnee. No, the hurting is all over now. All you have left ahead of you is peace. Thank you for all that did, you’ll be missed.”

“I’ll see you on the other side. Goodbye.” The world faded to a pinprick, consumed by light. The last thing she saw before she went into it was a stranger’s smile. 

XxX

“Here’s the last,” Phantom said solemnly, delicately setting a broken body he’d carried out of the dilapidated building and on the sidewalk next to the others. “This is Sydnee Tanner, she was the only employee in the store at the time. She has cats at home who will need taking care of. Her dad works at Duke’s Car Services along with siblings and a boyfriend.”

“Don’t know how you know all that but thanks for getting these folks out,” Sheriff Newton sighed. “Damn shame. Keep up the good work kid, we’ll save the next ones for sure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some rather unhappy news to break to several people.”

“Do you mind if I tag along? I have a few messages I need to pass on.”

[skzsauce01]

God’s Menu

Synopsis: Two chefs face off in the final dessert round. Who will come out on top, and who will be the next Cooking God? Cooking competition AU inspired by Chopped. Possible cooking/baking inaccuracies.

Warning: none

Word Count: 6.6k

Pairing: fem!reader x chef!Felix

“Who will win and become the next Cooking God?”

This is not a laughing matter, but your nerves about the situation think otherwise. The bright lights of the studio kitchen and the multitude of cameras pointed at you make your pulse thrum at an even quicker pace than the last two rounds. With your opponent in front of you and the host right beside you, you grow increasingly on edge. It’s becoming more real by the second — a chance to win ten million won, your dream of opening your own bakery being fulfilled, your future studded with three Michelin stars.

You would say you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at such a wild scenario, but clearly your body has already decided on that.

Since you’ve already bursted out laughing on the last two takes, you can’t exactly do it again. It’s so difficult though. The host Park Jae is chatty and humorous behind the scenes, but the solemn way he delivers the cheesy line is such a big contrast to himself. It doesn’t help that you can see his jaw trembling as he holds back his laughter. It’s almost an invitation.

With the grin on your face barely concealed, you say, “I will.”

In front of you, Chef Lee Felix replies, “Not a chance,” in an extra deep voice, his thick Australian accent shining through, taunting you to give up your cracking charade of calm.

“Chefs, open your baskets.”

“Cut!”

As soon as the clapper is dropped, all three of you let loose into peals of laughter. Jae and Felix clutch onto each other for support, and you grab the nearby edge of the work surface to steady yourself. It’s all so silly. You wonder if Jae is like this on all episodes of God’s Menu or if he simply finds you and Felix especially fun to be around. Felix is a charmer, but you’re not certain if you feel that way because he’s rather attractive, the head chef of the two Michelin star restaurant Levanter, or simply because you feel like your insides have been reduced to cotton candy ever since you stepped inside the studio. Either way, the combination of you, Felix, and Jae has not been easy for the filming crew.

However, as the director calls for you and Felix to head to your stations, you steel yourself for the most important part of the competition. You glance at Felix once more to see how he’s faring, and he mouths, “Good luck,” at you. You smile back and hope that it’s reassuring enough.

“And… action!”

Jae resumes his professional television persona from the far end of the studio where the judges are sitting. “Chefs, open your baskets.”

With unsteady hands, you pull apart the flaps of the giant wicker basket. Then you immediately grimace once you see the four ingredients you have to use in your dessert. Strange foods are part of the competition, but you are always surprised by some of the things the producers put in the basket.

“You have to make a dessert with camel milk…”

You have used cow milk, goat milk, sheep milk, even buffalo milk once, but never camel. Hopefully, it has a similar composition and taste to one of those.

“Rose syrup…”

This is an ingredient you use daily in the upscale restaurant you work at, so you can possibly modify one of your recipes if the other two ingredients aren’t too absurd. Macarons will take too long, so maybe a decadent flourless rose and chocolate cake. You could easily incorporate the camel milk into a dense, fudgy cake.

“Beer flour…”

Never mind on the flourless cake. The cake idea may still be possible, but what on earth is beer flour? If it tastes anything like beer though, you might have to nix the idea altogether.

“And jalapeños.”

They are bright red and thus, extra spicy. Your first instinctive is to candy them and to use them as a garnish on your maybe-cake. The spice would cut through the sweetness and richness of the cake as well.

“Forty minutes on the clock, and your time starts… now!”

Your previous nervousness dissipates completely. Compartmentalizing while cooking, or soon to be baking in this case, has always been a relatively easy feat for you; your mind forgets the rest of the world and refocuses on the task at hand.

While Felix heads straight to the pantry for his additional ingredients, you tear open the package of beer flour with your knife. Unfortunately for you, it smells exactly like old beer, so you forgo your initial idea. You warily eye the clock and calculate the time needed for the plan you have just created. If you’re quick in the kitchen, you could make a good tart. All the basket ingredients can easily be used for one purpose or another.

Yeah, you think you’ll do that.

As you rush to the pantry for some flour, butter, sugar, and vanilla for your shortbread tart crust, Felix walks past you with a sheet of puff pastry and a carton of cream. You wonder what he’s going to do with his repertoire of skills. Hand pies? Strudels? Something completely out of the box?

You push those thoughts out of your head and gather your ingredients for the crust along with the ones for the chocolate cream filling. The cameraman following you takes several steps back as you stack containers in your arms. You press down the topmost one with your chin and carefully balance them as you speed back to your work station. Fortunately, yours is the closest to the pantry.

While the flours, butter, sugar, and vanilla are being combined together in the stand mixer, you begin slicing your jalapeños before candying them in a pan with some sugar. After a moment’s hesitation, you add in a splash of rose syrup as well to further accentuate the flavors in the rose glaze. You hear a crash of metal on your left. Felix has set a pan on his stovetop and is dropping a handful of sliced jalapeños into his pan.

It’s never early too early to start getting your presentation dishes, is it?

You walk past him — “Behind, Chef” — and peer inside to confirm that he is also making candied jalapeños. It’s a little concerning that you and he have similar elements in this round since the judges may deem the idea “uncreative.” If push comes to shove, you can probably transform the peppers into something else, but you have no idea what else to do with them now. Instead, you grab four ceramic tart pans and head back to find that your dough is fully combined.

As you press a layer of the dough into the bottom of your pans, you overhear the panel of judges speculating over your and Felix’s desserts. Park Jihyo, a celebrity chef known for her wide variety of kimchi dishes, points out that both chefs appear to be making candied jalapeños. Jae mentions something about Felix possibly putting it between his puff pastry like a sandwich. Could he be making a dessert sandwich with puff pastry as the bread? You can’t help yourself. A quick glance over at Felix and then upwards towards the wall-mounted clock informs you that he is pouring something into his blender and that you have thirty-three minutes left, neither of which are helpful.

You place the pans on a baking sheet and slide the tray into the oven to bake. You take a sip of the camel milk, which tastes a little nutty and will work nicely in the pastry cream filling. As the milk and heavy cream heats up, you chop a dark chocolate bar to add into the mixture to melt. The main reason why you decided on a chocolate cream filling is because one of the judges, Lee Chaeryeong, is a self-proclaimed chocoholic as well as a renowned chocolatier and baker. If you can impress her with your dessert, everyone will flock to your bakery.

Being the head pastry chef at Hero’s Soup is fun, but to have full creative control and to make whatever you want, is what you truly desire. You have a menu already drawn up, paint colors selected, and even a storefront scoped out. All you need now is a lot of money to get it opened. Chef Lee Felix and his dish are the only thing standing in your way. He may have gotten his start as a pastry chef, but you have spent the last several years being one at a top restaurant. Only one Michelin star, you admit, but you know your work is superb. The critics at Clé magazine said so.

You whisk in the sugar and slowly add your beaten eggs into the chocolate mixture. You don’t want to risk having bits of scrambled egg in the tarts. After you mix it all until it turns smooth, you check your tart crust in the oven. It’s done blind baking, so you take it out to cool before filling it with your filling. In the meantime, you work on the rose flavored cream to be piped on top.

“Behind,” calls Felix.

As you run back to your station with a carton of whipping cream, Felix heads to the ice cream machine with his blender container. He pours his light pink mixture in. Rose ice cream, it seems, will be in his dessert. Rather unhelpfully to you and more for the cameras, Jae announces that Felix’s dish will feature ice cream.

“An ice cream sandwich maybe with the puff pastry he has in the oven?” he adds.

That certainly is a dessert sandwich. You can’t help but look at the judges’ reactions to that suggestion.

Ok Taecyeon, chef and owner of the Japanese restaurant Winter Hitori, seems pleased by that idea. “Or maybe a mille feuille,” he says as he cranes his neck to look at the ingredients at Felix’s station, “with ice cream instead of pastry cream.”

A mille feuille and a tart are pretty different from each other, but you don’t miss your dessert’s similarities to his. Unoriginality aside, this could become a direct comparison of technical abilities. You’re certain you’ve got him beat on that.

You pause on your rose cream to fill your empty tart shells with the chocolate filling. There is an audible gasp from Chaeryeong as she sees the silky smooth texture being poured into each pan. How can you blame her when you yourself are mesmerized by the shine of it?

“Chocolate’s on the menu!” Jae exclaims. “How do you think it will go with all of the mandatory ingredients?”

You suppress a smile at her excitement as she details the finer points of chocolate pairings. Without a doubt, she is the one you must impress. It won’t be an easy feat, but you think she’ll enjoy your dish.

You stick the now filled tart shells back into the oven to bake. Fifteen minutes left, and not only does the filling have to be baked through completely, it has to cool down with adequate time so you can pipe on the cream. The giant bowl of rose cream is completed and set aside.

Now the only thing left for you to finish are your candied jalapeños, which you should have paid more attention to because they are on the verge of being burnt. The sugar and rose syrup have caramelized into a dark brown mess around the edges of the pan, and the red peppers have gone mushy. At that moment, the camera leans in to get a closeup of the disaster and captures you loudly swearing at it.

They can censor that in post-production.

"Behind. All good?" Felix asks as he rushes by with a casserole dish for ice cream collection. You hope his ice cream base didn't work.

"Mostly."

Jae's theatrical whisper and the approved hums from the judges inform you that Felix’s ice cream did turn out beautifully.

"Behind," he says again.

"Heard."

With an exasperated sigh, you set the ruined pan aside and turn back to your cutting board. You had the foresight to not use all of the peppers, but two measly ones are not going to be enough for the amount you want on each tart.

“Hey,” you shout to Felix, hoping that he can hear you over the whir of his food processor, “you have any jalapeños left over?”

He pushes the plastic container with one finger a smidge in your direction as he pulls off the parchment paper over his freshly baked puff pastry. “Take it.”

With a sigh of relief, you walk over to grab them. You expertly chop them into neat slices and throw them into a new pan. A sprinkling of sugar, a circle of rose syrup, and a turn of the stove knob later, the jalapeños are being candied, hopefully properly this time. As you wait, you check your baking tarts. They are still not done yet, which is to be expected but bothersome.

“Ten minutes left on the clock!”

The nervousness is back, and you whisper, “C’mon, c’mon,” at the oven door like it will encourage the tarts to cook faster. After letting yourself stare for a few more seconds because maybe they’ll suddenly be done in that short time, you pop back up to check on your peppers. They, fortunately, are turning out well. You turn down the heat so as to not let the syrup turn into rock candy as you wait for those cursed tarts to be done. Why did you decide on something so risky? Why couldn't you have done a puff pastry crust and not spend ten precious minutes fiddling around with the dough?

Because of the beer flour and because your pride demands that you prove your skills to all the talented chefs, that's why.

Another minute passes, and you drain the pan of the liquid and let the peppers cool down. Felix keeps running back to the pantry for more ingredients, and the judges voice their disapproval at that. You feel a breeze brush across the back of your neck as he dashes back to his station. It’s never a good sign when chefs grab last-minute items; it either means they’re behind schedule, forgot a component of a key element, or about to screw up whatever they have already made in an attempt to fill up time. Or maybe you’re just being cynical. All your nerves are on fire at the moment. Jihyo and Taecyeon soon turn their attention to you when they realize that your tarts are still in the oven.

“You can’t just look at them all day!” Jihyo exclaims at your crouching position.

She’s right, so you make a quick decision: finish these underbaked tarts in the microwave. You flounder for a towel, pull open the oven door, and walk to the microwave as you fast as you can with a tray of steaming hot pans. As all of the tarts are being cooked, you run back to your station to fill a pastry bag of your rose cream. You have six and a half minutes left, and if you’re quick, you can stick the tarts in the blast chiller to cool a little bit. Never mind that putting hot desserts into a freezer is considered blasphemous, you have a competition to win.

The microwave loudly beeps, and you run back to cart them back onto the baking sheet and shove them in the blast chiller. They could still be underdone for all you know, but that’s a risk you have to take. It will still be delicious at least. Felix decides to grab yet another ingredient, and you watch with interest as he selects a bunch of basil. You can’t say whether rose and basil is a good combination, but you trust that he has an idea of what he’s doing. He flashes you a panicked smile as he runs back. It’s the perfect embodiment of your current emotions.

“Less than five minutes, chefs!”

You’re certain the judges mean well when they begin to shout at you about starting on plating, but it only makes you more anxious. You keep watch of the clock, precious seconds disappearing in front of your eyes. Once it hits two minutes, you’ll take them out. Piping pastry cream is so easy, you could do it in your sleep. Garnishing should be simple too. You can do this.

Taecyeon yells, “There’s no time! Get it together!” exactly when there are three minutes left. One more agonizing minute later, you take out the tarts and head back to your station with the same kind of balancing act you performed when you made a mad dash to the microwave. At first glance, it appears the chocolate cream filling has set and cooled, but who really knows? You pick up your pastry bag and start squeezing fat dots in a crescent on the tops of each tart. The pink cream looks beautiful against the dark chocolate.

“Less than thirty seconds remaining!” shouts Jae.

“I can’t watch,” Chaeryeong declares. “Hurry!”

With a slightly shaky hand, you place your candied peppers on each dollop, grimacing when some of them are just the tiniest bit askew. You quite literally have no time to fix them though. A millisecond after you finish setting the last one, Jae calls out for you and Felix to stop cooking. You throw your hands up, showing that you have stopped. Then with a sigh, you grasp the edge of the table and look down at the final desserts. They all look amazing, minus the imperfect pepper placements, on the outside, so you hope that the insides match, no gooey filling in the center. Out of curiosity, you glance over at Felix and catch him eying yours as well. His mille feuilles look stunning — light pink ice cream sandwiched between golden brown puff pastry, topped with a row of pastry cream, red jalapeños, strawberries, and basil so finely chopped, you can barely see it.

You and Felix meet in the middle and nearly collapse on top of each other. He pulls you in more a congratulatory hug, and your unease about your dessert disappears for a second. His hold is strangely comforting considering you have only met him today. You could stay here all day. Then you remember that all of this is being filmed and that you’re hugging Chef Lee Felix, and your pulse jumps.

“We’re done now. Nice job,” he says. He pulls away and observes your frozen expression. “No laughing fits yet?”

A giggle escapes — they’re back and even worse than before, you can already feel it — and you clamp a hand over your mouth, embarrassed. “They’ve just started.”

“Good luck on the judging.”

“Yeah, you too.”

The director yells, “Cut!” and the moment is gone.

You and Felix idle around by the judges’ table as the production crew takes close-ups of the food. Felix easily makes conversation with all of the judges, especially Taecyeon. He smiles at the right parts, adds anecdotes when appropriate, and you wonder how he is so unphased by the dessert round. It’s all you can think about, replaying every single action you made.

“I can’t wait to try that chocolate tart,” Chaeryeong warmly says to you. “It looks amazing.”

Now all you can do is stare at her in disbelief with the silliest grin on your face. Felix gently nudges you to remind you to speak.

“I can’t wait for you to try it,” you hear yourself reply. It’s uncharacteristically high-pitched, and you feel yourself growing hotter despite the lack of harsh studio lights.

“The fourth one is for me, right?” Felix teases. “I want a bite of that too.”

“Only if I get some of your mille feuille,” you say. “It looks amazing.”

“What about me?” protests Jae, making everyone laugh.

Once the close-ups are completed, you and Felix return to your stations and make the dramatic walk to the judges’ table. The lighthearted atmosphere from before is gone, and your nerves are back in a completely different way. The anticipation from the beginning of the round is nothing compared to the fear you feel now. You stand tall with your hands behind you, the perfect picture of confidence, but behind the camera, you are twisting and knitting together your fingers. Felix, on the other hand, is solemn. Lucky him.

“In the dessert round,” Jae recites, “you were tasked to create a dish with camel milk, rose syrup, beer flour, and jalapeños. Chef Felix, what did you make for us today?”

With a steady voice, he answers, “Judges, I have made for you a rose and strawberry ice cream mille feuille topped with a strawberry rose syrup crumble, candied jalapeños, sliced strawberries, and some chopped basil. I hope you enjoy it.”

There’s a pause as the judges cut into the dessert and try it. Like in the previous rounds, their expressions are indecipherable as they chew and deliberate to themselves. Taecyeon is the first to speak.

“First off, your presentation is beautiful. Everything is very neat and precise, which shows your attention to detail. I especially love the basil. Not only does it complement the rest of the dish, it’s a nice addition of color to the plate.”

Chaeryeong nods. “I agree. Strawberry and basil is a classic combination, and I think you balanced those flavors very well. However, neither of those ingredients were in the basket.”

You can almost feel the temperature in the room drop at that revelation.

“Yeah, you definitely focused more on the pantry than the basket ingredients,” Jihyo adds. “Strawberry is the star of this dessert, and I wish you highlighted a basket ingredient instead, especially since you had so many good choices available. And ice cream wise, I think it is too sweet. And I can just barely taste the rose syrup in there.”

“Where is the beer flour in this?” Taecyeon asks as he lifts off the topmost layer of puff pastry. “Is it in the crumble?”

“Yes,” Felix quickly replies. “I didn’t like the flavor of the flour, so I decided it would be best to hide it with the strong syrup flavor.”

“You definitely did that well,” Taecyeon continues. “And your jalapeños are great, help cut through the sweetness of everything.”

It’s clear that there is nothing more to be said. You note that the baker of the trio of the judges said nothing negative about Felix’s dish.

“Thank you, Chef Felix,” Jae concludes. “Chef Y/N, what have you made for us today?”

There’s another cut as the production switches out the half empty plates for your tarts. Sensing your increasing anxiety, Felix reaches over and pats you on the shoulder.

“Good luck,” he whispers. “You got this.”

You can only give him a tentative smile in return before filming resumes. Jae repeats his line to help the transition.

“Judges, I have made for you a chocolate tart with a beer flour crust, rose pastry cream, and candied jalapeños. Please enjoy.”

Chaeryeong is the first to scoop into the tart with her spoon. When the spoon comes out clean and with a pile of solid chocolate tart, you breathe a sigh of relief. She mulls over it as she takes another bite, but Taecyeon already has one ready.

“This is rich and delicious.”

You stop wringing your fingers together. A smile is beginning to form on your face, and it takes some willpower to remain calm.

“I love the way you cut the beer flour with regular flour because let’s be real,” he continues, leaning in conspiratorially, “beer flour tastes pretty awful. I can still get some hints of it, but it’s not overpowering.”

Jihyo nods in agreement. “You have good textures, from the crunchiness of the tart shell to the silkiness of the filling. My only problem with your dessert is that it’s heavy. There’s a lot of chocolate and then you top it off with something pretty sweet. Your candied jalapeños do help, but the ratio of cream to peppers is off.”

Your joy wilts as you take in her comments. As much as you want for her to be wrong, you didn’t get a chance to eat your creation, so you can’t exactly deny it. However, everyone knows that the judge with the weightiest opinion in the dessert round is Chaeryeong. When you look over at her to see what she thinks, she is still picking apart the tart.

Jihyo, situated in between Taecyeon and Chaeryeong, nudges her. “Anything to add, Chaeryeong?”

She looks up at you, and you realize that likely already made a decision on her first bite. Her words are clear and decisive. “I think you made a lot of good choices. Finishing it in the microwave, using dark chocolate, incorporating the rose syrup in the candying process. I do agree with Jihyo that this is a little too rich though. Your rose syrup cream feels unnecessary, but overall, it’s a delicious dessert.”

Your heart is pounding. Everything feels hot, and you are suddenly hyperaware of the cameras around, waiting to capture your reaction. You remember your fiddling fingers and stop moving them.

“Thank you, Chef Y/N,” Jae says. “The judges need some time to deliberate the winner. Remember that the decision will be made on your dishes from all three rounds. Chefs, we will see you after.” He nods at you and Felix, and as per the instructions from the producers, you and Felix walk to the green room.

No other takes are needed. You follow behind Felix, wondering how he is still so poised after all of that. Inside the green room, there is a cameraman waiting, ready to film some commentary from you and Felix. You settle into a stool at the table, and he sits in front of you.

“You did a great job,” he says in an overly produced way. You bet he was rehearsing this. That’s what you should have been doing during his judging. Now your remarks won’t come out as smoothly. “I definitely focused on the pantry too much, but hopefully the other rounds will help me out. The beer flour really confused me.”

You swallow and try to concentrate on him instead of the tabletop. If you don’t get this right, you’ll have to redo it. “Yeah, definitely a tricky ingredient. It was smart of you to use it in your crumble. But yeah, I think we both did pretty good. May the best chef win.” You stick your hand out for him to shake, and he does.

“Cut,” interjects a producer. “Alright, that’s all for that scene. Let’s start on your interviews.”

You nearly forgot about those. You and Felix share glances, both of which are reluctant goodbyes, before being whisked away into separate rooms. As you sit in front of a green screen, you recount what you did in the dessert round, walking the audience through the choices you made and the emotions you felt. There’s a frenetic energy about you this time unlike the previous interviews after the appetizer and entrée rounds. You are so close to the ten million won, you can almost taste it.

Your interview takes almost all of the time. Just as you swallow your last sip of water, the producers are informed that the judges have finished discussing and that you are needed back to the kitchen studio. When you stand up, you nearly knock over the stool you were sitting on. The walk to the studio is longer than it was before, and you want to push the dawdling production crew aside so you can get there faster. Your heart pounds erratically underneath your mask of serenity.

Felix smiles at you from where he stands in front of the judging panel. The signature cloche of God’s Menu sits ominously from its location on the table, two spotlights illuminating its silver shine. Taecyeon, Jihyo, and Chaeryeong are getting last-minute makeup touches, and Jae is idling around, rereading his script even though he has said the lines numerous times before.

“Hey,” you greet Felix as you take your spot beside him. “You nervous?”

“Yeah. It all comes down to this, right? Ten million won and the title of Cooking God.” He says the last part like Jae does, no theatrics spared, and you laugh. It feels good to do so, like a small bit of tension has been released.

Someone adjusts the lights, and suddenly you and Felix are in the dark. Feeling a little courageous, you tell him, “No matter what happens, I just want to say that it’s been an honor competing against you. It’s been a lot of fun, and I think I’ve learned a few things from your cooking.”

“Same here. You’re an awesome chef and an even better person.” The lights shine back on you and Felix, and he sneaks a glance towards you after a producer calls a warning to begin shooting soon. “I’d say ‘good luck,’ but with the way you cook, I don’t think you’ll need it.”

Your face is as hot as an oven. “Thanks. Same to you.”

The clapper goes down. “Action!”

“Chefs,” Jae starts, “the judges have finished deciding. Let’s see who is our next Cooking God and who is getting ousted.”

His hand wraps around the handle of the cloche, and you hold your breath in anticipation. The sound of your pulse in your ears is deafening. You’re not one to wish for someone else’s downfall, but you hope that it’s Felix’s mille feuille underneath. Everything you have worked for today all comes down to this. You can’t lose. You knit and twist your fingers behind your back, and keep your eyes glued to Jae’s hand.

When you see the dish on the table and the judge’s impassive faces, you begin to cry. Your chest tightens, your throat suddenly has a cherry pit lodged inside, and your vision goes blurry. How funny that you start the round with laughter and end in tears. It’s all too poetic for such a moment.

“Chef Felix,” Jae solemnly says, “you have been ousted. Judges?”

You don’t hear what the judges have to say about Felix’s dishes from the past three rounds. All you can focus on is the wood paneling of the judges’ table as you stifle your bubbling sobs. It shouldn’t be too difficult, right? You suppressed all your laughs in the beginning, so this should be easy.

“It was an honor to cook for you today, judges,” Felix says after he has received all of their critiques. He turns to you and wraps in a warm embrace, making your flimsy grasp on your emotions disintegrate. “Congratulations. I knew you would win when I saw your dessert.”

“Thank you so much,” you whisper.

After he heads down the hallway to the green room to film his exit interview, the cameras are back on you and solely you. The judges give you encouraging smiles, Chaeryeong’s the largest.

“Chef Y/N, you are the new Cooking God,” Jae announces. “Congratulations.”

You wipe away your tears with the back of your hand in a vain attempt to make yourself appear more composed. However, when the applause begins, it all comes pouring out — your thanks, your appreciation, your rambles about the bakery you have planned.

“I’ll be sure to come by,” Chaeryeong says. “Your tart was your best dish of the day. If you put it on the menu, I’m definitely going to buy one.”

“Your creativity in all of the rounds was amazing,” Jihyo adds, “but dessert is really where you shine. Give us a call when your bakery is open.”

Taecyeon compliments your appetizer and also agrees with the other two. “Chef, you should be proud of yourself.”

You beam through your tears. For a momentous occasion, you half expect confetti to start raining down and a symphony to start playing. However, there is only production orchestrating a few more shots of you shaking hands with everyone and a closeup of your face. The small celebratory scene is over soon as you are led to another room for your victory interview. This one is easy, simply you expressing your joy and partially promoting your future business.

When you’re done, you are told to wait in the green room while they set up some paperwork for you to fill out later. To your surprise, Felix is there as well, sitting at the table with a tired look on his face. His water bottle is empty, and there is an unopened one next to it. When he sees that you are there, he lights up.

“Hey there, Cooking God,” he says. “Congrats again.”

“Hey. Thanks again.” You sit across from him and slump against the table. “I thought you would have left already.”

“I’ve got some paperwork to do and one more interview to finish up. You know,” he says, propping himself up on his arms, leaning forward, “I never got to try your tart. I was really looking forward to it.”

You can see yourself reflected in his eyes. He has very pretty eyes. “I never got to try your mille feuille either. Do you think production will be mad if we sneak back in and eat the leftovers?”

“We might have to dig through the trash, but I’m down.” He pulls back. “What are you going to do with the prize money, if you don’t mind me asking? I don’t think Jae asked you about it during the judging.”

So you tell him all about it. You tell him of the empty building on the corner of the street you have been eying for the last year, the late night hours you have spent experimenting with recipes, the white banner and silver ribbons you have envisioned for the grand opening of your dream. He listens intently, nodding along and cracking smiles when you draw the details in the air.

“Wow, you’ve got it all figured out already.”

“Yeah,” you agree, feeling flushed and breathless. “It’s been a long time coming.”

There’s a knock on the door, and a member of the production team pokes his head in. “Chef Lee Felix, we’re ready to shoot the interview now.”

Felix nods and stands up from his stool, taking the both water bottles with him. “I guess this is goodbye then. Good luck with everything.”

“What’s your number?” you blurt out before the nervous laughter starts up again. You just finished one of the most grueling cooking competitions in the country; asking someone for their number should be a cakewalk, but said someone also happens to be a highly esteemed chef. “I’d love for you to be at the grand opening.”

His mouth splits into a grin. He tears the label off of the empty bottle and asks the staff member if he has a pen. Then he scrawls down the digits and hands you the label, the fresh ink against the glossy paper shining underneath the lights.

“See you during the opening,” are his last words to you before he follows production out of the room.

You clutch the edge of the label and mouth the numbers to yourself, trying to commit them to memory. A needless action, but it feels right.

When you are called for paperwork and logistics, you carefully fold the paper and place it inside your chef jacket’s pocket, right by your heart. The check for eight million won — taxes unfortunately exist for prize money — goes in there as well.

The grand opening is a grand affair: customers flocking to the street corner in droves, a giant banner and even a red ribbon celebrating the occasion, and display cases being emptied throughout the day. As promised, Chaeryeong and Jihyo show up to the opening. The day is nearly over when they arrive; only a few people linger around, buying last-minute treats. You decide to close for the night.

Even though the two celebrity chefs say they have finished filming a new episode, they are both in high spirits. They bring along a plaque for you to hang that reads “God’s Menu Approved,” and you are both mortified and thrilled. Chaeryeong wants you to put the plaque in the window, but Jihyo insists you have it behind the counter. However, you don’t really want it in either location. Your office seems like a wonderful place.

“How about a tart?” you ask to distract them. “On the house, of course.”

They nod enthusiastically at the offer, and you set down two familiar-looking ones. “As seen on God’s Menu, the Dessert Round Tart, chocolate with rose-flavored cream and candied jalapeños.”

The bell on the door chimes, and a voice you have not heard in months says, “Any left for me?”

“Felix!” you exclaim, rushing to him. He’s still in his chef’s uniform, and you can almost smell sriracha on him. “How are you here? I thought you said you had a shift.”

He shrugs and smiles boyishly at you. It makes you all sorts of nervous, and your stomach flutters with something that is not laughter. “Surprise!”

“Let me go get you a tart,” you say as you lead him to the same table as Chaeryeong and Jihyo, both who recognize Felix from the show.

You head behind the counter and reach for the last tart left in your hidden stash of desserts. You saved three for the judges, but Taecyeon isn’t here. He is apparently in the midst of opening a new location, and you understand. After all, you’re doing something similar. It all works out in your favor though since Felix is. With more care than the previous two, you place the tart on a small plate and set it down in front of Felix.

“Here you go. Enjoy.”

He cuts into it with the fork and savors the first bite. “It’s even better than I thought it would be. This is amazing.”

“Definitely agree,” says Jihyo. Hers is completely gone, only the smallest crumbs left. “You’ve really refined it.”

Chaeryeong, mouth full of chocolate, can only nod in agreement. You smile, flattered by their compliments. After some pushing from the trio, you sit down with them to eat the leftover desserts from the day and to catch up. Chaeryeong and Jihyo are predictably busy with the filming of God’s Menu and overseeing their respective establishments. Meanwhile, Felix is still head chef of Levanter and has been tasked with adding something new to their menu. You tell them all about the beginning of the day and how a dog almost tore apart the low-hanging streamers outside. Felix sympathetically pats your hand. You then join in on the laughter, yours of which is more induced by his touch than the memory of the dog.

Some time later, Chaeryeong announces that she has to go, and Jihyo follows. You send them off with some lemongrass cupcakes and lie about where you will be displaying the plaque. No matter what, it’s going in your office where only you can see it. Felix stays around, and with everyone else gone, it’s just you and him.

“Hi,” you say, suddenly feeling shy. “You’re not leaving yet?”

He shakes his head. “I wanted to ask you something."

"Oh, what is it?"

"Since you still haven’t tried my mille feuille from the show and since Levanter needs a new menu item, would you want to help me sometime?” He pauses and grimaces at his words. “Wait, you’re probably busy with your bakery now and—”

“I’d love to,” you abruptly say. “Probably only taste testing though, if that’s alright. Business conflicts and all.”

Your favorite thing about Felix, you decide, is the way he lights up, the way the excitement emitting from him is palpable. With a tinge of red across his cheeks, he says, “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other soon.”

You let out a short laugh. “I guess we will. I’m alright with that.”

“So am I.”

~ ad.gray