#every time i write 'his husband' it's adding two years to my life i swear

[koocycle]

over wine; chapter one (j.jk)

↳ synopsis. designer dresses, spa weekends and rare wines are no longer enough to keep your marriage afloat. with your husband gone from home and a marriage standing on shaky grounds, you stumble back to your neglected career in the hopes it’ll fulfill the void in your life. you’re ready to take the risk this time, whether that is with the emerald cut diamond around your ring finger, or without.

over cocktails and dior-bowed roses.

pairing. husband! jungkook x ex-model! fem reader

word count. 37.8k (it’s gotten out of hand)

au + genre. rich couple! au, established relationship! au, married couple! au, semi sugar daddy! au, suburban couple! au, angst, fluff and smut.

warnings. mild cursing, alcohol consumption, suggestive and mature themes including the following: unprotected sex, spanking, choking, dom!jk, oral (f. receiving) mirror sex and car sex. 

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series masterlist

one, two, three

author’s note. oh my god. to say i have written for a lifetime and got nothing in me anymore, would be an understatement. (kidding. i’ve got an entire series to finish) no but, to actually be able to finish this part of the series and publish it with pride is such a milestone for me. for over a year, i’ve been drafting and drafting, deleting documents and rewriting them, moving from concept to concept, pausing and swearing i’d never write another word again. really, i’m dramatic like that. and i want to take this little note as a thank you to @latetaektalk who’s been hearing me bitch over this for so long. who’s been reading draft after draft and even when she’s busy, was sulking about the fact that she was too busy to read it. but future doctors don’t read silly fics linh!!! they just scream whenever their friends scream and hop off to biology (?) class. i’m very thankful & proud.

OVER COCKTAILS AND DIOR-BOWED ROSES

Jeon Jungkook must be easy to love.

You figure he is, because anywhere the well-dressed man goes, curious eyes follow. Though you find it hard to pinpoint what exactly it is that makes the man so lovable in the eyes of your friends and neighbors. Your husband owns a great sense of fashion, in his defense. If we’re talking 10-minute trips to the only supermarket available in town, where the man makes sure his hair is slicked back and the first few buttons of his blouse are undone, then yes, Jungkook might have hit the bull's eye. It’s noticeable on people’s faces no matter where his feet carry him. Take the red-haired divorcée across the street for example, whose skirts get shorter each time she comes out to get her mail. Or the head of the community garden every Saturday morning, who stoops a little lower each time she plucks another stock of radishes from her dirty, little yard.

Long story short, the man who got voted to grow the “reddest tomatoes the neighborhood has ever seen”, is considered one of the hottest men on the block. Not like it ends there when he carries his good attitude with him no matter the day. As a beloved one who drives off to the office no matter the rush he’s in, Jungkook makes sure to slow the speed down and send a sweet wave to the elderly couple at the end of the street. After business hours, he would find lost mail in his letterbox, wrong packages at his porch, and missing kittens hidden in the trimmed bushes of his backyard. Yes, great guess; Jungkook in formal attire makes sure they find their way back to the rightful owner before it turns dark out. A smile on his face that’s sweeter than the candied apples he gifted Kim Namjoon’s 7-year-old the other day.

Yes, Jeon Jungkook from number 09 is the neighborhood’s heartthrob.

What is there not to love about your beloved Jungkook?

Perhaps his despicable wife?

‘‘You might want to lose the attitude before she comes back.’’ It is the first thing your husband says that is directed towards you, breaking the tense silence like nails scraping against a chalkboard. There’s a large gap between the both of you on the rather firm sofa and the silence you grant him does little to calm either of you down. The two-seater isn’t a very broad piece of furniture on itself, though it seems bigger when each of you is seated at the opposite arms. Glued to them like teenagers who got into a fight in the lunch cafeteria in between classes. You watch Jungkook slump down his seat in the corner of your eye, an arm resting over the edge in a way that makes his Blancpain watch shimmer prettily around his thick wrist.

‘‘Attitude?’’ You end up asking, glossed lips pursed together.

‘‘You know what I’m talking about.’’ He says flatly. Jungkook sounds like he couldn’t bother any less, but truth be told, the tight pause in his defense betrays him. His eyes fall to your folded arms and travel lower down your bare, crossed legs after. ‘‘You look like you don’t want to be here at all.” The Versace dress he got you hugs your hips just the way it’s supposed to and rides higher up your thigh with every minor movement you proceed to make. Ruby red polyester clashes with the neutrals in the room and you definitely seem like you don’t belong in such a formal setting, but fuck, he would have you bent over Mrs. Kang’s desk with your dress hunched around your waist if he weren’t supposed to be an angry fuck right now.

You scoff at his foolish accusation. “Please, Jungkook,” a humorless chuckle dies down on your tongue when you can’t find it in you to fake it. “I was the one who had to beg you to clear your schedule for today’s appointment in the first place.”

“Then act like it. Don’t just sit here and sulk.” He bites like he had his response ready and set. Sharp eyes meet yours. “You’re acting like a child, pouting like it’s gonna get us anywhere. Seulgi is here to help us sort our shit out. At least let her do her damn job.”

Jungkook’s head slowly lolls to the back of the ivory-colored sofa when it’s off his chest, a puff of air leaving his lips like today’s session got him exhausted before it could even make its start. His eyes fall to a close as he pinches the bridge of his nose. The sight of it only makes the tight knot in your stomach grow and you can’t seem to tear your eyes off the heated man, a snarl on your lips you wish he’d notice.

“I told you, I want a second opinion.”

“And I told you, we’re not going through the hassle of finding another therapist when we got a fine one just under our nose.” Jungkook’s jaw tenses and he slumps down the sofa some more. “Give her time. She’s analyzing our relationship.”

His words trigger something inside you. They make you sit on the edge of your seat with heat rushing to your head, the Valentino Garavani mini bag falling off your lap and onto the cushions at the movement. “How much of an analysis does she need when we visit two times a week?” Your eyes fall on him. “Open your eyes, Kook. She always asks for my opinion and uses it against me a minute later. She is always on your side. We need a second opinion.”

“Just fucking drop it.” He mumbles to himself though he swears it’s for your own good. Also because the waiting area is only a door away and he doesn’t want to walk out of the heated office with judging eyes on him like last time. The walk of shame back to the car must have been the highlight of your visit. “I’m not gonna run around town and find you a straight, male therapist who’s blindly gonna agree with you the minute you flash him half a boob. Wasting our money like it’s nothing.”

Jungkook regrets saying that as soon as it’s out. He didn’t have to say that, he figures. Though when he’s met with silence and catches the roll of your eyes on his side, the pang of guilt disappears as soon as it came. You didn’t come here to argue here with him. Quite the opposite, considering your surroundings. Though it is getting hard to block that road when you aren’t one to bite your tongue either. “Of course you won’t. You love it when people suck on your dick.”

He should have seen that one coming. And he knows either one of you needs to stop barking back if you want to see any progress throughout your sessions with Mrs. Kang. Jungkook could be the bigger person if he wanted to be, but his egoism is rocket high. ‘‘Say that again?’’

You fall to the back of the sofa as well, mirroring him with your arms crossed tight against your chest. “Seulgi is sucking you dry and you’re eating it up.” You mutter with gritted teeth. “Always picking your side, always defending you…you’re loving it and you can’t get enough.”

Jungkook says nothing and just listens to your quiet, angry mumbles at first. To him, you’re almost whining the words out like it’s going to get you anywhere. And maybe it would if the circumstances would be any different. If you weren’t forced to kill time in an empty office waiting for your couple’s therapist to return with your preferred coffee and biscuits. Kang Seulgi knows the deal by now; you like your spiced chai latte and he likes his shot of espresso so bitter that it sits on his tongue for the rest of the session.

He continues to watch you. Examine you, in some way. The sound of your rambling drawing out the more he loses himself in his own world. Issues roll off your tongue like you’re reading them off a long, unending list, and he feels like you’ve argued about these same things over and over again. Too many times for him to keep his focus when your breasts are pressed together so prettily in that dress.

You’ve had it for a while, Jungkook then recalls. A couple of years at most, but he remembers the day he bought it for you like it was last week. Initially, you told him no; you didn’t need him to buy you a dress for a price so ridiculous. He could buy you an extra large salmon bagel for lunch and you’d be the happiest woman in the room, is what you tried to convince him of. Though your eyes glimmered with adoration the minute you entered the store and held the designer piece in your hands. Moments after swearing you only wanted to see it up close and get a good feel. He remembers loving that glimmer in your eyes.

He wanted to see it more often, so Jeon Jungkook got you that Versace dress like it was nothing. You yelled and shrieked at him through the entire checkout and earned some nasty glances from the saleswomen, but he didn’t mind. He could take a hit from you. If a simple swipe of his card meant he’d see that look more often, then yes, Jungkook was willing to sell his soul for you.

“Are you even listening?” He doesn’t notice the corners of his lips slipping up until you tug him out of his daze. The apples of his cheeks show as quick as they die down.

“Yeah,” Jungkook groans and sits up straight. “I hear you. You’re just not making any sense, babe.”

Jungkook often finds several ways to make you roll your eyes and tighten your jaw, though he rarely makes you fume with steam blowing out of your ears.

Today is one of the days where he makes you fume with steam. He can tell by the way you avoid his eye in the hopes you won’t go all feral on him. Or how your glossed lips pettily press together, the Dior Addict lip oil one step away in your lip-combo routine from cussing him out until your voice goes hoarse.

You huff quietly, clearly holding back. “How am I not making sense? You’re not listening to a word I say.”

“I listen. You just have a hard time understanding me.”

It’s a thing you guys do, the finger-point thing. And it is something you do a lot. It’s a thing where either of you hopes that the other backs up when you point for long enough. A healthy relationship doesn’t work like that, is what Seulgi told you during your last session. As if you didn’t already know. But old habits are hard to get rid of, and certainly when it comes to you two, where someone else has to lose in order to win.

You didn’t think of her words as useful and made sure to voice the complaints about your newly found couple’s therapist the entire ride back home. Jungkook, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure what to do with your critical feedback. The entire session, he was just waiting for Seulgi to hand him that step-by-step handbook to a successful marriage, which he hoped was attached to her clipboard. But he knew she wouldn’t have made it so easy for you even if she had it. Not with the amount of money he pays her per session. Because if we’re going to be honest, then no, Jungkook didn’t get Seulgi either. But he was willing to learn from her and understand her. Unlike you, who just sat there and might as well have filed and groomed your nails while you were at it.

Maybe you’re scared of whatever is yet to come, he ponders. Maybe you think you’re better off than whatever the future has planned out for you and Jungkook. He doesn’t know, and he can’t figure you out either.

‘‘I get it, okay?’’ He finally says, now at the edge of his seat as well. ‘‘It sucks to sit here and be confronted on issues that we can’t seem to work out ourselves, but we’re trying to crawl out of whatever hellhole this is. At least I am. Some cooperation would be appreciated.”

You don’t argue back as fast as he expects you to. ‘‘I’m trying, too.’’ You don’t stutter, you don’t fidget with your fingers and you sure as hell never break eye contact with the man. You never do when you defend yourself against your husband, and Jungkook has always admired how firm your feet are planted to the ground. Though when you’re wrong, then he’s the one who must be right. ‘‘She doesn’t fit our needs. Stick your head out of the sand and try to see what I see, Kook.’’

‘‘She doesn’t fit?’’ Jungkook’s brows pull together in frustration, defensively resting his palms on his inner thighs and causing his arms to crook. ‘‘What? Because we’re not a match or because you can’t stand it when you’re not winning?’’

‘‘What is this, the fucking Olympics?’’ You scowl, impulsively copying Jungkook’s defensive form. ‘‘I don’t need to win a damn thing. Look at where we got ourselves,’’ angry hands fly in the air and fall back down your lap with a loud slap. ‘‘We’re already losing with a therapist like her. You and I both.’’

‘‘You can’t just sit here and suck these theories out of your thumb, ___, we’re no kids no more. Stop acting like we know that woman,’’ Jungkook cries out, accusing finger-pointing your way. ‘‘You just can’t stand the fact that Seulgi is actually doing her damn job and isn’t blindly taking your side. Is it really that hard of a pill for you to swallow?’’

‘‘She’s blindly taking your side.’’ You spit back and your husband can only respond with a humorless chuckle, adding fuel to the fire. ‘‘The minute we step into this room, every fucking time, I’m painted as the clown. I’m the damn joke. Forced to listen to the way she’s putting you on a pedestal as she’s digging me deeper into the ground like there aren’t two sides of the story. Why is your first response telling me to shove it? You’re being a real asshole right now.’’

‘‘I never told you to shove it. Don’t put words in my mouth.’’ He attempts to say with a bit more composure but you can see the fire in his sharp eyes all the same way. Pierced lip curling in to hold himself back from saying all the wrong things. ‘‘I’m trying to be the rational one here.’’

‘‘Rational? You don’t need many words for it to be obvious.’’

‘‘Damn it, ___.’’ He curses and his fingers fall to rub at his temples, elbows digging into his thighs. You always got your word ready to spit back in his face. ‘‘Why don’t you just go home if you’re so unhappy? I’ll do this by myself if you’re really going to be this childish.’’

It feels like a slap in the face when his words work through, while it doesn’t sting and only seems to work you up with immense rage. Blood fast to rush to your head. You’re not sure what it is that’s keeping you from defending yourself. Knowing you, you’re not one to let accusations like these slide that easily, and neither is Jungkook. Maybe you expect him to apologize as far as your husband is able to. As long as his pride doesn’t tumble to the ground and shatters into pieces. You don’t know, maybe you expect him to at least take his word back while he looks you in the eye again.

It doesn’t surprise you when he doesn’t.

Jungkook’s head tilts when he hears the rumbling in your mini bag, watching your manicured hand dig through your belongings. ‘‘What are you looking for?’’

Your lips purse together again at the sound of his voice. ‘‘My phone,’’ you say shortly before you pull out the device. Long, almond-shaped stiletto’s tap against the screen and it is the only sound that’s creating much of a suspense. ‘‘To call a cab, I mean. You think I’m walking home in these heels?’’

‘‘Really?’’ he states more than he asks, sending him to the very edge. ‘‘You’re actually going home.’’

Your phone is already to your ear when you stand up from your spot on the sofa, Valentino Garavani falling in the crook of your arm as you straighten your dress. Heavy lidded eyes surf back to his dumbfounded state. ‘‘That’s what you told me to do?”

‘‘You know that’s not what I fucking wanted.’’ Jungkook scowls. ‘‘Seulgi’s gonna be back any minute now.’’

‘‘Good. Tell her I said hi.’’ And with those last bitter words slipping off your tongue, you leave him astonished in the luxury office with his hands reaching for his hair.

You’ve never been an easy one, Jungkook has been told by various people since the start of your relationship. But neither has he ever been a goody two shoes. Whether the both of you could handle each other, even after all these years of tough practice, might be a totally different story.

It was in college when Jungkook first realized he caught the most beautiful gem in the jeweler's inventory. Fresh into his first year as a finance major, entering his twenties and living life to the fullest in a brand new world that consisted of sex and alcoholic beverages to explore. Jungkook has always been a big dreamer, even back then. A real go-getter. One who used to scribble down achievable five-year plans at that marked page in his notebook, in that awful handwriting anybody could barely read. It was quite funny, considering you weren’t a part of the initial plan before you said yes to a single date with him. But when you finally became Jungkook’s girl to kiss, to fuck and to admire, he knew he could easily squeeze you in that plan. Jungkook wanted you for life. He knew so from the start. He was the one who dreamed of moving out of the city and into a large house in the beauties of suburbia, surrounded by a white picket fence, a little family and two guard dogs on the side. He wanted it all with you. You were his dream girl.

Jungkook was never one to shy away when it came to you. He was yours, and you were his. It was just the way it was supposed to be and everybody had the right to know. Jungkook was most proud to call you his when curious eyes easily swayed your way across campus. It happened every time you came to pick him up from class. Your perfectly pin-straight styled hair fell down your perfect face all the time, and the dark denim low waist jeans that stopped just beneath your pink, sparkling belly button piercing made anyone want to be with you, or be you. No in between. He loved how his hands fit so perfectly around your waist, on top of that_ Prada_ belt encircling your hips. But what he must have loved a little more, was how everyone’s eye shifted to the way he’d pull you chest against chest. He was all yours, and you were his. Everybody knew.

Seven years later, and things haven’t changed a bit.

Well, most of that.

The low waist jeans are replaced with the champagne-colored Celine dress which enhances your every curve, stopping mid-thigh. Jungkook is aware that each spouse, faithful or not, must have taken a second look your way. The rounding of your wine glass hides in your palm as the French Chardonnay in it sways back and forth with every minor hand movement you make. Eyes are on you. Subtle or not for whatever reason your neighbors might have to peek and mumble about, it doesn’t matter. Probably from every corner of Park Jimin’s pool party, too.

Even Jungkook can sense the air tighten around you when his large hand finds that familiar spot above the swell of your ass. This doesn’t feel like seven years ago, when you were mere college boyfriend and girlfriend, smothered all over each other like your time together was limited. The tension is here and fairly obvious.

“What are you guys chit chatting about?” He interjects your conversation with Kim Joohyun anyway. Kim Namjoon’s wife: the lady down the street you claimed to never really like. Something about her being too merry, and her collection of flowery sun hats you can’t bear to look at. Jungkook figures he does you a favor, but you don’t spare him a second glance even when his chest nearly bumps flat to your back. Which probably still has something to do with the incident back at Seulgi’s office.

“You, actually.” You say, a click on your tongue.

Jungkook grins cutely, dimples appear at the sound of it while his hand rubs in small circles at your back. “Oh? Good things only, I hope.”

‘‘___ was just telling me about your upcoming trip!’’ Joohyun shrieks, no ill intentions behind that wide, toothy smile of hers. You don’t even blame her for not noticing how Jungkook stills on your side. ‘‘Gotta say you have me jealous, Jungkook. A trip during this time of the year? Sounds lovely.’’

‘‘Well… not sure how jealous you should be. It’s just business,’’ he heaves a breathy chuckle as he pulls you closer to his side, the tugs at his lips awfully forced in front of your neighbor. ‘‘But you knew that,’’ Jungkook nudges your side even though you don’t put in the effort to lock eyes, so he just watches your face crumble. ‘‘You didn’t mention that?’’

Your brows pull together in question. ‘‘Why would I?’’ You ask as you’re fast to focus your attention back to Joohyun, thumb pointing his way for emphasis. ‘‘He’ll be gone for almost two months on a Caribbean cruise. Isn’t that enough to be jealous of?’’

Joohyun cackles along to your bitter chuckles, the wine in her glass nearly tipping over. ‘‘You had me at Caribbean.’’

‘‘It’s not a vacation.’’ Jungkook quickly defends himself, interrupting the laughter. ‘‘It’ll be less fun when I’m going to be stuck in conference rooms all day. Believe me, it’s really not that big of a deal.’’

You swirl your glass in your hand, teeth digging into your lower lip. The feel of his fingertips at your hipbone now becomes more prominent. ‘‘You only cared to inform me last week, so I’m sure it’s no biggie.’’ You say, voice laced with irony. ‘‘He’s leaving in two weeks, by the way.’’

It’s true. Jungkook didn’t care to mention a thing about the business trip until a week ago. On a random Thursday night with Chinese take-out served on the table and a glass of red wine on the side. You’ve never been upset over any of his trips in the past, so when you stared back at the flabbergasted man with pulled brows, chow mein stuffing your cheeks as another episode of Ugly Betty blared in the background, it came as a surprise. Why, he asked you, why is it so hard to keep you happy? And the question threw you off the edge, snapping something inside you didn’t know you were keeping in. A trip that would last nearly two months had to be planned in advance. Longer than a total of three weeks, that is. Jungkook must have known he’d be gone for a long time, and he didn’t even care to inform his wife.

Jungkook apologized the moment he saw the confusion shift into anger. Though the apology was rushed and spurted out in the heat of the moment. Maybe he did it because he didn’t want any wine stains spilling your loveseat with the way you gripped onto the glass so tight. Or maybe because he realized he wasn’t the owner of a newborn pup, a last-minute search up his sleeve for a sitter during his two-month cruise vacay.

It was probably the former.

Even Kim Joohyun in her tipsy state takes note of the tight air around your throat. She smiles a little and takes another sip of her Chardonnay as if she isn’t being obvious. ‘‘More wine, babe?’’ You turn to Jungkook. His glass is still half full when you take it from his grip, pushing past his shoulder.

A pout plays on Joohyun’s lips as Jungkook’s gaze stays on you until you’re out of sight. Sad eyes trying to meet Jungkook’s as he watches you disappear into the crowd. ‘‘She’s a lady. She’ll come around.’’ She cutely tries to reassure him, a light slap to his bicep with the back of her hand. ‘‘It’ll be over by the time you all reach 30. Trust me, Joon knows all about my shenanigans by now.’’

Jungkook fakes a laugh but it doesn’t reach his eyes the same way. But that’s you, he thinks to himself. He knows it’s supposed to be a lighthearted, innocent joke, but Joohyun and Namjoon are only a couple years older than you two are, not even close to reaching their mid-30s. And ever since Jungkook moved into the neighborhood and has known his friends for, he’s seen the way they have never encountered a genuine threat to their relationship. Maybe you won’t ever come around, maybe Jungkook won’t either.

Nonetheless, he shrugs. ‘‘Probably.’’

‘‘Most likely.’’ She carries on, apparently determined to lighten up the mood. ‘‘Isn’t that what Seulgi is there for?’’

Joohyun’s words spill off her lips before she gives herself the chance to comprehend them, not even waiting for an actual answer before she brings her glass back to her lips, painting yet another spot at the rim a bright, cherry red.

Rule 101 to a successful neighborhood-friendly party: don’t bring therapists into the conversation. Avoid at all costs!

It catches Jungkook’s attention as if alarm bells are going off. Wide eyes and usually perfect brows are suddenly a little less sharp than they were a minute ago. Kim Joohyun knows about the sessions with your couple’s therapist? Have you been going around town, casually rolling the topic into the conversation with a bunch of neighbors? Jungkook isn’t sure why he can feel his heart sink to the pit of his stomach at the thought of it, at the mere assumption. Maybe because this is something between you and him. Something so personal, so intimate and so damn private. There shouldn’t be a reason for you to allow people to dig their noses into your business. To put it out in the open without talking to him first.

‘‘___ told you about Seulgi?’’

Jungkook finds it in him to stay calm. Though curiosity gets the better of him when it becomes obvious in his voice. Joohyun stands tall on both of her feet when she hears it, lips parting into a slight O. ‘‘Oh well, I mean, yeah. We’re girl friends.’’ She casually says, and it makes him wonder how deep into detail you went with the woman. When she catches him clenching his jaw, her eyes grow big. ‘‘I’m sorry, this is so inappropriate. The last thing I wanted to do was pry!’’

Kim Joohyun is the neighborhood’s sweetheart, Jungkook knows she’s already drowning herself in guilt with only a single glance his way. This is not about her. And let it be a coincidence or not, but he has mastered his poker face ever since his first years in college. Seems like the skill came in handy after all. ‘‘Don’t be sorry, what have _you _done?’’ That is all he can manage to say for now. A silly, shammed smile on his lips though he doesn’t even wait for an answer.

You, on the other hand… you’re nothing like Kim Joohyun.

A heat of adrenaline rushes through him, and he swears it is not the wine that has gone through his system. No, it can’t be, because his mouth has gone dry while the Chardonnay Park Jimin poured him earlier had some sort of sweet aftertaste. It was one of the sweetest white wines he owned, is what the blonde man gushed about.

Without any other thought hazing his mind any further, Jungkook politely excuses himself to fetch off and find you. Like a hawk, he bumps shoulders with a couple strangers as he tries to scan the large backyard, until his eyes land on you. Seated at the pool chair by the water with the sun in your face, bare legs stretched and crossed as your Givenchy sunglasses sit on the tip of your nose. The two wine glasses from earlier are forgotten and disregarded at your side table. You seem disinterested in the ongoing party at your side, not really one to mingle with strangers in the dirty pool water. You’re not a shy woman, and Jungkook has always admired that about you. It’s just that you don’t always fit in with the rest of the neighborhood. But not once since you moved to the suburbs did you mind. Instead, it almost seems like you’re glad.

‘‘You’re blocking my sun, Kook.’’ You say as if it isn’t obvious when Jungkook comes to stand at the end of the chair, by your feet. Your glasses are tipped to the tip of your nose as you lock eyes with him.

‘‘My bad.’’ He grins cutely before sitting down at the edge, fully taking you in when your middle finger pushes the tinted glasses back to your bridge as you make yourself comfortable again. ‘‘Are you enjoying yourself, babe?’’ Jungkook questions sweetly, tatted hand reaching out to cup your inner thigh, thumb rubbing small, soothing circles over the soft skin.

“It’s okay.”

He hums. “Mhm, I can see that.” Gentle fingers drag across your hot skin but you don’t pay him much mind. There is no need for much eye contact when you’re closing your eyes and leaning back into your chair, hands intertwining on top of your stomach. He can tell you’re still upset about earlier, when Jungkook ignored your worries and encouraged you to leave Seulgi’s session. And yes, maybe he shouldn’t have done that. He is aware that maybe he had gone a little too far when he just let you walk out of there without sitting you down and letting you say your thing. Though you and him both know he wouldn’t push your buttons after pulling a stunt like that. ‘‘Look at me, love.’’ He says with a tight line of his lips. You broke a piece of his trust the moment you laid your relationship bare before a woman you barely know, and God knows who else you might have told.

You do as he tells you, but mainly because the pet name sits so strange on his tongue. Like there is a bite to it. And for some strange reason, the confused look on your beautiful face irks the fuck out of him. As if you never feared he’d find out you told some neighbor about something so personal. Like he wouldn’t get upset.

‘‘Care to tell me when you got so tight with Kim Joohyun?’’

You frown, lips pursing together. ‘‘Joohyun?’’

Jungkook wants to give you another bit to process the question, but you made him an impatient man. It’s a simple query, he thinks, and there is no need for him to elaborate any further. Though you seem on the slower side today, eyes half lidded through the dark brown lenses of your glasses, like you’re done with his bullshit for the week.

‘‘You know,’’ he pushes, nodding along. ‘‘When you had no issue letting her know the ins and outs of our relationship like you’re pulling off some Vogue interview type of shit.’’

‘‘Jungkook, what are you even saying?’’

‘‘The therapy, ___. The sessions, Seulgi—all of that shit.’’ He hisses, voice lowering even though the edge to it is just as sharp. ‘‘Why would you tell her?’’

It takes a moment before he watches the realization sink in. Jungkook’s eyes bore into yours and threatening flames swim in them, restlessly waiting for your word against his with his lips curled inwards and brows pulled together. You owlishly blink at him, stumbling on whatever you’re about to say next when he is looking at you like that, holding you under that microscope he’s had you on for years. Though it feels like it’s the first time he’s actually paying attention. At least now, after a long fucking time.

Jungkook is not one to easily feel small due to anyone’s actions, let it be his own mother and he wouldn’t dare to let his guard down. He is a true businessman at heart. At one point in his career, forceful assertiveness was an important skill that had to be drawn into his system in some way or another. Whether that’s considered a good quality or not, to Jeon Jungkook, financial manager of four years by now, it has always been reality.

‘‘You’re upset I told Joohyun about the therapy?’’ Qualities, skills and class. All of that thrown out of the window with a single look at those big, astonished eyes.

He returns them, all the same way. ‘‘Of course I’m gonna be upset. I mean, Kim Joohyun?’’ Jungkook scoffs loudly, having trouble keeping his voice down. ‘‘This is our fucking shit, ___. It’s none of her damn business.’’

His rage is working you up as you catch a couple heads eagerly turning your way. Negative attention is still attention, some say. ‘‘Can you keep your voice down? The whole neighborhood is here.’’

Here’s one thing: Jungkook can’t give a damn about any of them now. The chatter and mingles are done for, he’s over it today. It messes with his head; the fact that the first words that came from you weren’t a set of haste apologies. Call him self-centered, he doesn’t care. It’s all he intends to hear. ‘‘You should’ve discussed this with me before you went out to talk about our personal shit with others.’’ He lowers his voice anyway.

‘‘Discuss?’’ You ask quickly. “This is not some business ordeal, Jungkook. Am I not allowed to vent to someone?’’

‘‘I’m here. Right under your nose.’’ Jungkook argues, an angry finger digging into his chest. ‘‘Why won’t you vent to me? Why would you turn to people you barely know when you’ve got me?’’

‘‘You?’’ A humorless chuckle escapes you before you can hold onto the irony. ‘‘Sure, I’ve got you. For two full weeks before you leave for that damn trip–isn’t that a luxury? My relationship is going to shit and I don’t have a single friend in this town who would want to hear me out. But thank God I got you, the one who sends his wife home mid-therapy sessions.’’

Jungkook painfully pinches his brows together as he shoots daggers through your shades. ‘‘It doesn’t matter the circumstances, ___. You don’t just casually discuss that shit with people. It isn’t something to be fucking proud of.’’

You take the glasses off to get a better look at him. ‘‘You’re not actually upset, are you?” You ask, head tilting and gaze clouding. ‘‘God, it’s beyond me how much you care about these people’s opinions. It was just a harmless neighbor-to-neighbor talk with some woman down the street. What are you afraid is gonna happen next? Them throwing us off the Saturday night mini-golf game?’’

Irony. You’re a master at it, but Jungkook doesn’t seem amused by your humor. ‘‘You know what? Tell whoever the fuck you want.’’ He stands up from his seat. ‘‘If you’re unable to see the issue at hand then maybe you’re not even worth my damn time. Figure this shit out yourself, ___.’’

And with so much, Jungkook slips away in between bodies of people you don’t know. It leaves you unhinged in your seat, the sun gracefully falling down your skin again like you’re supposed to be enjoying it. Your head runs blank when you repeat the conversation, running around in circles when you recall all of the finger-pointing. All the looks of revulsion.

You’re not one to really care about other people’s opinions. You’ve never been and never will be, you swear. People will gossip about anyone to spice up their own lives anyway. There's the unemployed wife from number 09 who walks around town in designer mini-skirts with a diamond at her ring finger bigger than her own head. She’ll undoubtedly be a broad topic with many chapters for many. You let them talk. You don’t care. There is no point in caring what those low lives say about you. The grass on the other side of the white picket fence isn’t any brighter.

So when Kim Joohyun subtly warmed you up to the topic of unstable marriages, you saw no point in lying to her and telling her you couldn’t be happier. That you’re on cloud nine and that Jungkook is the type of partner you always dreamed of, that you are his ideal partner he’s been dreaming of. Because he isn’t, and neither are you. Yes, your marriage is going to shit and you’re trying to fix it. So what if the entire neighborhood knows? You might as well give those nosy Suburbans a reliable source to gossip from.

Jungkook has always cared. You know he has. Your husband cares about the way he’s perceived by strangers; you’ve seen it as long as you’ve known him. He’s never shy to show off the gold-coated jewelry that hangs off your neck, or the overpriced three-piece suits he’ll wear long after office hours. Of course Jungkook would go feral, you then realize. Jeon Jungkook is a flawless soul. God forbid he is dealing with an unhappy wife at home and a couple’s therapist to place the cherry on top.

The door softly thuds behind you as you get home, the loud keychains announcing your return to the big house instead of a sweetened hello. You catch the back of Jungkook’s head immediately, facing you as he’s seated at the dining table. The change in his clothes stands out. The laid-back blouse he wore at the pool party is replaced with a more formal, striped button-up with neutral colors and you wonder why he’d change into it if he’s working from home, where no one would see him. The brightness of his laptop screen hits his face and it makes you realize how fast the sun had set since he stormed off earlier. He must have been working ever since he came in.

You don’t care to take your heels off as you approach him, wanting him to hear the slow steps you take instead. ‘‘Would it really hurt Park Jimin if he offered his guests some snacks? It’s a pool party for God’s sake; people shouldn’t swim on an empty stomach,’’ you whine, making your way over.

‘‘You’re home late,’’ Jungkook mumbles, teeth grinding at your presence. His eyes are set on his laptop screen, a bunch of numbers you don’t care about filling his file.

‘‘I didn’t think it’d hurt if I stayed out a little longer.’’ You hum cutely. Hands come to rest on his broad shoulders before you gently start kneading the tense muscles. You watch from behind as his head tilts a little, not yet sparing you a glance and letting go of the cold shoulder but relaxing into the feel instead. “You and I could spend some time apart after that conversation we had, no?”  

Your lips move to the shell of his ear just to accentuate the words even more. And instantly, it catches his attention. The fact that you’re addressing the issue at hand does wonders for him. Does this mean you’re ready to face the consequences of your actions and apologize like a grown adult? Jungkook’s fingers hover above his keyboard but come to a complete stop when he feels the wet kisses beneath his earlobe, traveling all the way down his jaw. Your fingers fumble to unbutton his blouse, manicured stilettos making the process even slower. And as fast as he fooled himself to believe you’d follow up to face your consequences, the quicker he averts his attention back to his file.

Your lips move to the shell of his ear just to accentuate the words even more. And instantly, it catches his attention. The fact that you’re addressing the issue at hand does wonders for him. Does this mean you’re ready to face the consequences of your actions and apologize like a grown adult? Jungkook’s fingers hover above his keyboard but come to a complete stop when he feels the wet kisses beneath his earlobe, traveling all the way down his jaw. Your fingers fumble to unbutton his blouse, manicured stilettos making the process even slower. And as fast as he fooled himself to believe you’d follow up to face your consequences, the quicker he averts his attention back to his file.

Sighing, he speaks. “Whatever you’re trying to do right now, it’s not working.”

You pissed him off. That much did you understand when he stormed off Park Jimin’s backyard and didn’t return to make any more small talk with any of your neighbors. That perfect, white-toothed smile gone and hidden in the safety of your four walls, where he didn’t give himself the time to unwind and went to work behind his laptop straight away. You know his ways by now. Jungkook is a workaholic, that much isn’t a secret. It’s a Sunday afternoon with bits and pieces of sunlight on every corner of the neighborhood, but Jeon Jungkook would rather spark an argument with his wife and work his ass off to distract himself after.

“Hm, what is it that I’m I trying to do?” You’re provoking him, hands traveling down south beneath the thin fabric of his unbuttoned blouse while you continue to leave sweet kisses at his jaw. Quietly, you move on to deeper spots of his silky, thick neck. A cute bite here and there. “I’m not doing anything.” Your nails gently scrape against his chest in need for attention and you know it’s working despite all his efforts to remain calm. You can feel the slightest hitch of a breath with the way your palms are pressed against him. He is holding back because he’s angry, but not on your watch.

“Cut it, ___.” Jungkook snaps even though you know you nearly got him hooked around your finger. No matter how many years you’ve known the man for, he is only a man. They’re the easy kind. “I’m working.”

“On the weekend? Don’t act so fussy babe,” You circle his chair, lingering fingers in the back of his neck with a big pout on your glossed lips. You lean against the edge of the table, ass planted next to his laptop. “You used to fuck me on and off business hours all the time. What changed?”

Jungkook leans back in his chair with a loud exhale through his nose. You’re playing a silly game and he can be just as witty. His hands intertwine and his head tilts as he locks a cold eye with you. The smug curve of your lips tells him everything he needs to know. A sharp brow rises. The familiar, cocky attitude telling you to continue your little act. Continue it and see what happens, is what he tells you.

You move on command, closing his laptop with a soft thud before you impatiently shove it to the side. Jungkook watches your every move like a hawk and you wouldn’t dare to break eye contact; you wouldn't lose to him. Straddling the man with a bare leg on either side of him, you make sure you’re seated just right as your heat hovers above his already growing bulge. He whines a little at the feel of it, ever so soft like he doesn’t want to give into you. “You used to hold me, just like this,” you whimper, ushering his large hands to sit at your hips where they tighten their grip, one of them quick to move to the swell of your ass and grab a handful. “You’d tease me, play with me,” another roll of your clothed heat against his sends a wave of relief through him. It’s slow, addicting. “You used to want me all the time.”

“I still want you.” Jungkook is fast to object. Eyes flickering down to the plumpness of your tinted lips and you waste no time in shutting him up when he does so. Your lips clash together like it’s second nature, perfectly in sync from the get-go like it is always that easy between you. Teeth clash and tongues dance like you’re desperate. You don’t stop until a tattooed hand reaches through your hair, gently make shifting your locks into a ponytail until he tightens his grip. Prying you away with a little more force than he‘s shown earlier. “But you fucking piss me off baby,”

He has you in his lock, gripping tighter onto the ponytail until you look down on him and that smug smile is wiped off your lips. “Do I?” You ask dumbly. You know you do. He knows you know.

“You do, but you don’t give a fuck, do you?” He questions with a closed-lipped smile. Jungkook’s free hand moves to hike your dress higher up your ass until it sits completely bare on top of him, one less layer until he can feel you. With the fresh air that is roaming through the house, you’re not given enough time to adjust to the new feeling against your bare skin when he spanks you once. Soothing the skin with a little graze after. “You think sex makes me forget about the way you can’t shut that tight little mouth? Hm? Always gotta complain about something.” Another spank. Through it all, you remain eye contact as you watch the fire swim through his gaze. “Not to me, though. To your little friends around the neighborhood, right?”

“No.”

“Hm, what was that?” He heard you, though he hums anyway.

“Just Joohyun.” You whimper in his grip, stopping yourself from rolling your hips into his when he grabs a handful of your flesh. “I only told Kim Joohyun from number 05. She doesn’t fucking care about you or me. Nobody fucking cares about us.”

His grip on your hair only tightens as you spew the words out, a delicious sting at your scalp. “Aren’t you sorry, baby?” He whispers with a sharp edge to it, spitting the words out like he doesn’t need an answer from you. Like he already knows the answer. “I’d be fucking sorry if I were you, because I’m yours. And you’re mine.” His lips press together, sharp eyes burning into yours. “And whatever the fuck is mine, I keep to myself. Don’t you think that’s rational?”

You nod, but it isn’t enough for him. “C’mon, babe. You were talking so much shit earlier, you can give me more than that.” He says.

“Yes, Kook. You’re right.” You whine out loud, “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook tilts his head cutely, intently peering back at you. “Sorry, for?”

“For talking shit about everything. The sessions, the therapy. I should’ve understood this is something between you and me.”

A smug smile paints his lips, seemingly pleased with your answer as he loosens his grip at your hair. “That’s my girl. Was that so hard now?” He asks sweetly, eyes softening and fingers continuing to travel through your locks, gently massaging your scalp with his fingertips. Enjoying the way you relax into his touch. “Go lay on that table and spread those legs for me.”

You shoot him a look even though the state between your legs worsens, pausing. “Jungkook, we eat at that table.”

“I told you to get on there, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice when he’s looking at you like that. Those dark, hazy and impatient eyes seem to bore into your skull until you do what he asks. The petty attitude you carried with pride is now long gone, lost in the heat of the moment as you climb onto the dining table before him, like a five-star buffet. Heels dig into the stool in between his legs and thighs clamp together as you lean back to observe him, testing to see how much longer you can push his buttons. He knows you’re trying to work him up because you’re great at it. He gave you seven years to master all your troublesome ways on him.

The corners of your mouth curl up to a sly and mischievous smile as your teeth dig into your lower lip. ‘‘You wanna play, baby?’’ Jungkook challenges, noticing the look you give him. He rises from his seat until he hovers over you with his broad shoulders. With your knees stay put against his chest, he quietly watches how you get down to lay your back flat against the table the closer he comes. Just the way he told you to. ‘‘Let’s play then,’’ he murmurs, his hands sliding up your bare legs, pausing at your thighs and gently tearing them apart until you’re spread out to his liking. Your breath hitches in your throat, back already curving off the surface of the table when Jungkook’s thumb grazes soft circles over your panties. The black-laced thong does little to block the sensation. He sighs heavily, breath fainting in the crook of your neck while his free arm supports his weight next to your head.

‘‘I don’t even know if you deserve to be fucked good.’’ Jungkook groans into your neck. There is no way he doesn’t feel the wet spot on your panties, not when his fingertips continue to feel you up and dig a little at where your hole is covered up. ‘‘What if I just,’’ he slips your thong aside, ‘‘…fucked this soaked pussy with my fingers, hm?’’

You can’t stop the whimper that leaves you when his thick middle finger teases a long strike down your folds. ‘‘Please, Jungkook.’’ You cry, nails scraping at his nape. ‘‘I want you.’’ Jungkook never fails you when it comes to sex. He knows your body like the back of his hand and no matter how shaky the ground underneath your feet might be, Jungkook will always be a passionate lover underneath the sheets. Some days, it might be all you can hold on to.

‘‘Yeah? You want so much, baby.’’ He continues to trail messy kisses down your throat, traveling lower until he reaches your hardened nipples. His free hand flicks it twice before he takes the sensitive bud in between his lips and starts sucking with no shame, teeth grazing with a slight sting. ‘‘And I give it all to you like an idiot, even when you don’t deserve it. What makes you think you deserve to feel good?’’

‘‘I apologized, Kook.’’ You defend yourself, heat pooling in your lower belly when his lips sink lower. Tasting every inch of you until he stops just above your begging heat. ‘‘Please, baby, right now I just… need you.’’

A low hum leaves him as if telling you he understands. With a single, last kiss does he finish off, hands sweetly running over your thighs like he’s thinking. “Let’s compromise.’’ He then says, looking up at you. “I’m eating this sweet pussy, but you don’t cum unless I tell you so.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Clear?’’

You nod eagerly. “I can do that.’’

He only strikes you with a satisfied smile before he averts his focus. Large hands curl around the back of your thighs to keep you in place and the excitement rushes through you merely at the feeling. Your pussy is pulsing beneath him only at the thought of having him so close to you and it pushes his ego. “And I wanna hear you, sweetheart. Understand me?’’

“Yes, Kook,’’ you wail, feeling the impatience tug at you.

A desperate whimper cut short leaves your pretty lips when he pushes your panties aside again, this time until he’s able to fully expose your bare heat. You’re sensitive and a little swollen beneath him, eagerly awaiting his touch. That, or his lovemaking. He doesn’t know which one it is, but he is convinced it doesn’t matter. When he gets to watch you like this, so needy for his touch and desperate for his attention, then ultimately, Jungkook feels like he has won.

Yes, Jeon Jungkook needs to win petty games because it’s obvious you don’t need him like you used to. Some days you barely talk to each other, and others, you don’t even see each other. You fetch for yourself and so does your husband. No issue, he often tells his friends when they ask about your relationship and its rocky road. Part of life, it’s gonna cool off, is what he says. Though when he’s got you beneath him like this, moaning and whining his name in utter desperation, then yes, he remembers what it is like to be wanted by you. And yes, he needs to win that game.

“Always so perfect for me,’’ he mumbles more to himself than to you as he spreads your lips apart with two thick fingers. Blowing cool air directly on your drenched cunt, curious to see how sensitive you really are. And to say he’s pleased when he watches you flinch away with that cute little gasp coming from your throat, is an understatement. “Have you touched yourself since the last time I fucked you, baby?’’

He knows he has. Jungkook has thought of you in the shower, a door away from where you were sound asleep. Or on the downstairs sofa, the night you were out with a couple women down the block. And most embarrassingly of all, locked in one of the bathroom stalls at the office, when you were too angry over his late hours to give him a call back. He watches your face distort, trying to read whatever it is he expects you to say. “Be honest with me, there is no wrong answer.’’ He mellows, a single finger continuing to stroke your folds ever so gently.

“Yes…’’

He hums. “Yes, what?’’

“Yes, I touched myself since you last fucked me.’’

It’s been a long week since he last fucked you. Your husband had been busy preparing for his upcoming business trip, while you were upset with him for prioritizing work over your marriage. Both of you were angry with each other. Though, despite the high tensions, neither of you was willing to break the standoff by dropping your cold shoulder and making the first move. Until now. “What did you think of when you were touching yourself?’’ He asks you quietly, tip of his tongue slipping out to lick a bold stripe at your wet folds. “Was it my mouth?’’ It’s a gentle move at first, though Jungkook grows more focused on the sensitive bud of your clit when your little whines increase. Taking it in his mouth and sucking on it just to hear you stumble beneath him.

“Yes, I was thinking about your mouth on me,’’ you’re out of breath when you finally speak and Jungkook snickers into your heat at the fragile state he’s got you in. “Also your fingers, Kook.’’

“What about them?’’ He breaks free from your lips, thumb back at your clit and rubbing in sweet circles before you can comprehend it. “You imagined me fucking you with my fingers?’’ His other hand reaches down to play a little at your hole, teasing as a string of wetness attaches to his finger.

“Yes, Kook, please.’’ You groan out loud, ‘’I need you to fuck me.’’

His mouth is back on you as soon as the words come out. Little pools of saliva drip from his lip and fall onto your cunt until you’re a mess beneath him, rolling your hips into his face and growing desperate for some sort of release. Jungkook hums sternly with the bud in between his soft lips as a warning, the sensation of it pushing you even more off the edge. “You wanna be fucked, baby?’’ He asks you like it isn’t obvious in the way your face seems to glow with delight, eyes shut so tight and lips so pursed you might explode. “What is it? Your own fingers didn’t satisfy you?’’

A thick finger enters your slick fold just as his words get through. Curling inside your tight walls as his tongue flicks to make a return. “Need yours,’’ you cry, his tongue making circular motions onto your clit for as long as he feels you tighten around him, encouraging him to fasten the pace and make you cry on his tongue. “Yours always make me feel better.’’

“Hm, yeah?’’ He buzzes, eating your needy whines up. ‘’Pretty baby can’t make herself feel good so she needs me to do the job for her?’’ Your moans are like music to his ears, adding another finger to your tight warmth and fucking in and out of you until your moans aren’t recognizable anymore.

He pumps in and out of your warmth until you’re squirming beneath him, until he is satisfied with the sounds your cunt makes for him. Wetness coating his fingers as proof he is the only one out there who makes you feel this good. The only one who gets you to roll your eyes to the back of your head in absolute bliss. It sparks his ego, alright. Jungkook can’t stop the smile from spreading onto his lips when you grip his wrist tightly, holding onto him because his pace sends you to your high a little too quickly. He curls his fingers inside you once more, rubbing your sweet walls to remind you how much you need him to be yours.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna cum.’’ There is a layer of desperation he hasn’t heard in a while, and fuck, it is an addicting sound coming from you.

Jungkook’s tongue clicks at the roof of his mouth, tsking loudly. “We had a deal, baby. Want to remind me what we agreed on?’’ His fingers reach deeper into your pussy and he rolls his tongue more passionately onto your clit, his hot breath fanning over your skin as you try to run back on it. “Remind me, ___.’’

The stern tone throws you off guard and you might be imagining things, but you swear he fucks you a little harder the longer you stay quiet. “I can’t cum without your permission.’’

“See who listens if she tries a little?’’ He throws in a wink just to get to you, ‘’So we’re gonna be patient, aren’t we? You told me you could do it, ___. ’’

There it was. That sweet tone of his that always drives you off the edge. His eyes tease when they meet yours, something challenging gleaming in them as if he’s already won your little game. And with the way you squill when he rewards you with a particularly harsh suck at your sensitive clit, he might be closer to crossing the finishing line than you are. He knows that, too. Feels it in the way you fumble as you lay there, in the way your pussy clenches around his thick fingers.

“I can,” you defend yourself, although it doesn’t sound convincing. Not when you’re so out of breath.

Jungkook snickers at you like he’s amused. He finds it endearing how you’re trying so hard to remain calm underneath him. You’re so stubborn, so sure of yourself like he hasn’t known you for almost a decade. Like he hasn’t been given ten years to explore you, to know you from the inside out. And whether you forgot about it or not, there was a time when Jungkook read through you and you loved it. There was a time when you were his, and he was yours. A time when you wore that diamond around your finger with pride.

“Gonna miss this sweet pussy when I’m gone.” He’s talking about his trip. But you don’t want to hear about it, and he knows. He sees it in the way your face crumbles and the sighs of pleasure turn into ones of distress. Jungkook reaches up to you, two fingers still buried to the hilt until he hovers above you. The warmth radiating off his chest is addictive no matter how many times you’d deny it. He locks your lips with his in a swift motion, dancing together like you weren’t shooting lasers at each other earlier today. A lewd moan leaves you when he bites down your bottom lip, the sensational sting holding on to it even when his teeth let go. “Are you gonna miss me?”

I miss you every day, is what lies at the tip of your tongue. Though you realize it sounds a bit too sentimental for the current state of your relationship you find yourselves in. So you opt to respond with beats of silence instead. You figure it wouldn’t complicate things. It breaks his heart a little when his answer is filled with only the sound of his fingers pumping in and out your pussy, but he knows he isn’t one to dwell. “I’ll bring you something pretty back.’’

You figured he would bring something exquisite back with him. It is just the way he does things. Always bringing something pretty back home and never returning from his trips empty-handed. Jimmy Choo high heels, Prada mini handbags, you name it—he has a knack for finding you the most coveted items. Though right now, you don’t care about any of that. All you want is him, there is no need to offer much else. The thought of his embrace, the way his touch sets your body on fire, it was once enough to fill you with a longing. A craving only he can satisfy. Not some luxury item he’s pulling off his sleeve.

You hold Jungkook’s cheeks to draw him nearer, at a loss for words. You haven’t gotten much to tell him, after all. His warm breath grazes your lips and you’re sure he feels the same thing, eyes flickering from your dark gaze, back to your lips as his fingers slow down. “Jungkook,” you whimper, shivers sending down your spine when he rubs your walls so deliciously slowly. “Make me cum, please.” You beg, silenced by the way his lips meet yours in a fiery, passionate kiss that leaves you a little breathless. He tastes like white wine and sweets, the flavors melting on your tongue in a sensual tango as your fingers run through his perfect locks, pulling him closer as your breaths become ragged.

“You want me, baby?” His lips are swollen when he breaks free, needing confirmation. He hates that he can’t go without.

“So bad,” you tell him, nails sweetly scraping at his jaw when his fingers are buried deep to the knuckles. “Want to cum on your fingers.”

It’s all he needed to hear to be satisfied, the smug smile on his lips dying to make an appearance when you whimper beneath him like you do. “Come for me, princess.” He orders sweetly, a toothy grin lingering as his hot breath falls down your face. “Make me a mess on my fingers.”

You comply gracefully, without needing him to ask twice. As a wave of pleasure pulses through your body, the knot in your lower abdomen unravels, causing your back to arch off the table and your thighs to clamp together until Jungkook’s torso blocks them from doing so. He watches intently, observing the way your jaw drops and your lips part ever so slightly, noticing the crease that form between your eyebrows as your eyes squeeze shut. He wants to preserve this image, to savor it in the recesses of his mind, even when he’s halfway across the world and separated from you.

Your breathing slows down until you come down from your high. Jungkook’s fingers gently slip out of your cunt before they cup your warmth one last time, sweetly spreading your wetness over your folds until he’s satisfied enough and you can’t seem to take any more of his touch, even if they are minor and gentle. You make a deliberate effort to avoid eye contact with him, even though he seems to be pleading with his gaze. He keeps his eye fixed on the side of your face as you drift off, the weight of your breaths gradually easing until the tension between you suddenly tightens. His chest above you becomes a little less warm, and you become a little more cold. Some sort of emptiness arises, both of you can feel it.

Moments ago, you couldn’t even tell him you’d miss him in return. And despite the fact that you might not miss him back, he would much rather have you spew out that little white lie in the heat of the moment than have you stay silent the way you did. It would spare his feelings a little, he wouldn’t mind. But even after your glow died down and the initial rush subsided, you couldn’t even meet his gaze. You know your relationship is, and has never been solely based on sex; that much was evident from the beginning. So why are you acting as if it is?

“You don’t gotta.’’ He says simply, not wanting to elaborate much further as the issue at hand becomes more apparent, becoming clear to him. However, for you, he doesn’t have a clue what is going through your mind. But for him, the problem nags at him to the point where he can’t find it in him to come up with a solution. Where he doesn’t necessarily want to find one.

You stare back at him with big, puzzled eyes. “I don’t mind.’’ You shrug, hands falling limp on your sides. “Do you?’’

You observe as Jungkook’s lips purse together and his eyes start to wander around the room as if looking for something fascinating. He shifts his weight to one leg as his hands slide into his pockets. “Yeah,’’ he mumbles in a low voice with a frown, no indication of humor on his face.

You wait for him to provide an explanation. Maybe he’s simply worn from today’s events and wants to head to bed early. To go upstairs and take a long, hot shower after he worked his ass off behind that screen. It was only last week when Seulgi brought the topic of sex to the table, at first suggesting you’d attempt to see each other more often during the day. Maybe go out for lunch together during his breaks, or have breakfast together before he takes off.

No way, Jungkook told her then. Breakfast, lunch and dinner are spent behind his laptop screen and it’d be impossible to shift around the schedule, let alone picking you up and bringing you back home by the time his break ends.

You’d have to find the time some way or another if you want this to work, she said. Try having more sex, she then suggested, attempt to rekindle that spark that brought you together in the first place through more intimate, private methods and connect to each other in your most vulnerable ways. Intimacy can help reignite the passion in some relationships, is what she tried to convince you of.

A bunch of crap, you swear. Two hundred bucks an hour for advice you could’ve found at the back of some middle-aged gossip magazine? Not when he has an obvious hard one hiding in his pants and rejects you like he has better things to do than to _“reignite the passion you share that has brought you together.’’ _

Especially when you haven’t fucked ever since that day.

Jungkook’s lack of response speaks volumes, leaving you feeling frustrated and disrespected. If he doesn’t want to fuck you, he could just say so.

Screw him and screw Kang Seulgi. You refuse to settle for a partner who rejects your advances, or a therapist with shallow suggestions. You deserve a partner who is willing to put in the effort to keep the spark alive in your relationship, and not just dismiss your needs with a simple swipe of his card at Seulgi’s office.

The week continues much like the way you and Jungkook prefer to handle things—tons of escapism and much less communication than is probably needed. In your defense, your husband will leave the country in a little over a week, and all the issues you could address and possibly solve now would still be forgotten and buried by the time he travels back home. It’s pointless, you think. You figure there just isn’t much to talk about in such short amount of time, and Jungkook must think something similar; it is evident in the way your backs face each other every night of the week, the way he eats dinner at the dining table in the living room while you do it at the kitchen counter, the way either of you can barely look at each other for longer than a few seconds. Your pride is too high to break through your walls.

Car rides have never been this dreadful before.

It is only when Jungkook stops in front of a red light that manages to steal a glance at you in the passenger’s seat. His demeanor stays cool, with his tattooed hand on the wheel as he sits back and takes the opportunity to observe you. His inked sleeve is on display, with his dress shirt rolled up all the way up to his elbows, although he is required to cover up in mere moments before you arrive at the business event that got you so dolled up, surrounded by tens of his colleagues.

You’re typing away on your phone screen on his side. Long, almond shaped nails tapping against the device as if you’re setting several emergency meetings up for the upcoming hour.

Kim Joohyun no. 5 | So, you haven’t had sex in over a week? He didn’t want to at all?

You | I don’t know what it is that he wants. He doesn’t fucking talk.

Kim Joohyun no. 5 | Maybe he’s relieving it somewhere else. Any big fights gone on between you two recently?

The text causes you to pause. You look up, looking a little puzzled with the way eyebrows furrow. Jungkook catches on quickly, meeting your eye for a split second before you tear your eyes back to your tiny screen. You’re not sure what Joohyun is implying and neither do you care enough to know. You may make Jungkook out for a lot of things a lot of the time, but you know there is one thing he is not.

You | You better not say what I think you’re saying. Lol.

Jeon Jungkook is not a cheater.

The implication pisses you off as you let your phone fall to your lap, arms folding over another. He watches as you’re visibly bothered, instantly recognizing that look on your face because he has seen it a dozen times already. The pursed, glossed lips and the clenched jaw, it’s a classic. Jungkook isn’t sure who pissed you off to the point where you’re not even arguing with him, but he doubts you’ll tell him. His eyes are on you but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him. Instead, you remain silent, your annoyance palpable in the air.

Jungkook clears his throat, ‘‘Is something wrong?’’ He speaks over the radio, a careful start.

You can’t help it. You’ve been with the man for almost a decade, and sure, not always has it been pretty, but somehow it has worked. Maybe it was your first mistake to tell Kim Joohyun about the therapy sessions and the whole Kang Seulgi issue at hand, but you needed an outlet. Something close to a friend who would listen to you since Jungkook was always out of the house. Now you’re stuck with random people implying your husband doesn’t need your sex, that he’s fine finding it someplace else. You so dearly hope you misunderstood her, because your heart pounds a little faster, chest grows a little tighter.

Your head lolls to the backrest of your seat as you take a deep breath, eyes set on the scenery outside. ‘‘It’s just something Joohyun said,’’ you finally say. The sky above you paints an array of pinks and purples, a beautiful sight if only you weren’t feeling so sour right now.

Jungkook nods like he understands, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as his head softly nods along to the music at the radio. ‘‘I see. Do you want to talk about it?’’

The words throw you off guard. You can’t help but stare back as he looks at you with a patient, and rather relaxed demeanor. You can’t recall the last time where either of you suggested to talk. It must’ve been a long time. It’s rare, that is. You shake your head slowly, swallowing before your head falls back to your seat. ‘‘No, it’s nothing,’’ you murmur, eyes back out of the window.

He clicks his tongue softly. ‘‘Alright. If you say so,’’ Jungkook says, quick to dismiss the offer, and something inside of you wishes he pushed a little further. Moments of silence continue to fill the car, with the only sound coming from the radio and the soft hum of the car’s engine. ‘‘You like the dress?’’ He reaches out to lower the volume, eyes scanning down your body, where the simple, strapless silhouette of the Valentino mini dress hugs your curves so charmingly. Worn as a vision of elegance with the way you do it, he knew you’d like it too. 

‘‘I do. Thank you.’’ You say, only now having the chance to thank him for the luxury item you found on the kitchen counter this morning, just like Jungkook’s text told you where to find it. The message didn’t say much, just that the dress was there and that he’d pick you up straight after work for the business event he was invited to. You got the hint, styled the dress with some jewelry that matched the rich, ivory white fabric and you picked out your prettiest heels. The Jimmy Choo ones with the bow that you knew Jungkook loved so much. You’re not sure how long it took for you to get ready, maybe an hour or two tops, but you know you took your time. Maybe because you wanted to look pretty for him, knowing he probably wanted to see you in the dress if he bought it for you.

His eyes travel to your legs, also leaning back in his seat as his foot hovers over the gas pedal, the car humming as it moves forward a little. ‘‘Thought everybody should see you in it tonight.”

Reality rushes back to you, then. Jungkook doesn’t care about you _or _the dress. Your husband only cares about the way the both of you will be perceived tonight. By his colleagues, by his friends and by his acquaintances. Yes, you’re looking stunning tonight. Your hair sits flawlessly and your legs have never looked sexier before. But what does that matter when he can’t proudly put his arm around you and call you his?

The light turns green and he tears his eyes off you, back to the road. ‘‘But I hope you get to smile a little more by the time we’re there.’’

There’s an attitude to the statement, leaving you a little in awe. ‘‘I don’t really feel like smiling,’’ you declare, arms folded. It’s a sassy response, one he catches on to instantly and you know it, considering the way he side-eyes you from behind the wheel. The glances he throws your way burning at your head.

‘‘I don’t need you acting petty, ___.’’ He chuckles, though there is no humor to it. ‘‘I know we’ve got a lot of our own shit to worry about, but we don’t need any of that tonight. Please,’’ he adds, ‘‘just be there with your head.’’

You feel a surge of anger rising inside you at his words. How dare he tell you how to feel and how to act? You take a deep breath, voice already shaking from the way he works you up. ‘‘So you want me to pretend all is good in front of everyone? Because you know it isn’t.’’

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he presses the pedal a bit harder, grip tightening around the wheel. ‘‘I’m asking you to keep it down,’’ he argues, ‘‘there’s no need for us to be mixing business with private matters in front of these people–it doesn’t concern them. We can talk about everything else later, I just want to get through with it for tonight.’’

You scoff. ‘‘Funny you say that, considering we haven’t exchanged a word all week.’’

Jungkook’s eyes flicker to you for a brief second before focusing back on the road. ‘‘Not now, ___.’’ He insists, ‘‘I promise we can talk about anything you want the minute we’re back home, just not now.’’

‘‘Now you just need me to be perfect. Got it.’’

His grip on the wheel tightens even more, the tension radiating off him. You never make the effort to try and understand him. ‘‘You know that’s not what I’m asking,’’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘‘All I want from you is to act professional. It’s not the time or the place for this shit, ___. We can deal with everything else later.’’

You don’t agree but keep it to yourself just to save either of your energy. The rest of the ride is quiet, but far from peaceful. It takes not much longer than twenty dreadful minutes before you arrive at the grand hotel as you waste no time getting the hell out of Jungkook’s Benz to breathe some fresh air, dusting some imaginary dirt off the ends of your dress while your mini bag hangs in the crook of your arm. The valet rushes to your sides, taking care of his car keys before Jungkook leads the two of you inside with his large hand burnt to your lower back. It takes everything to keep yourself sane, to not rip his touch off you as he sends his prettiest, most charming smiles to people you only know the faces of.

The dimmed lobby is bustling with people as you make your entrance, all dressed up in their finest attire and sipping on champagne while chatting amongst themselves. The night passes uneventfully, with the occasional surge of excitement as the guests mingle and socialize. You’re grateful for the attentive staff, who makes sure your glass is full throughout the night. Mainly sticking by Jungkook’s side with champagne as your only friend, an arm looping around his own as you lean into him and fall back into your own world.

New colleagues of his stumble in left and right, and you admire your husband’s ability to remember each of their names and faces. You, on the other hand, stopped keeping track of whoever stands before you. You figured it is easier to become the wife Jungkook wants to represent you when you keep your mouth shut and merely stand there looking pretty. Designer dripping off you as your hand caresses over his chest in circles with a sweet, dimpled smile on your face.

‘‘I would’ve worn my fancy tie if you told me your girlfriend was this beautiful, Jeon,’’ a rough, low voice interrupts. ‘‘You know, the one that lightens up when you press the button.’’

Before you stand an older couple, their eyes crinkling with sweet wrinkles and sparkling with warmth the minute you lock eyes with them. They mirror you, where their arms loop together and move in perfect sync. Jungkook chuckles on your side, cute apples of his cheeks making an appearance. ‘‘Mr. and Mrs. Choi,’’ he exclaims, moving to place his hand just above the swell of your ass before pulling you closer into him, though his touch leaves a chill in its wake. ‘‘I take it you haven’t met my wife yet.’’

‘‘Oh, dear Lord,’’ the woman known as Mrs. Choi squeals as she gladly takes your hand in hers. Hers are warm and embrace yours gently, only now knowing you sipped a bit too much champagne when the movement throws you off guard. “I keep insisting that Jungkook needs to bring you to the office so I can meet this pretty face but he won’t budge,” she says, keeping your hand warm in between hers. “Now I get why he wants to keep you to himself—you’re a doll.”

You snicker a little at the comment, feeling the champagne flush at your cheeks at the older lady’s words. Jungkook’s thumb runs in small circles at your hip. “Isn’t she?” He speaks, softly pulling you towards him. “Why would I share with anyone?”

The Choi couple share smiles of delight, visibly over the moon when Jungkook pulls you closer to his side and plants a sweet kiss on your temple. “A married man,” Mr. Choi sighs with fondness in his eyes, hands gesturing your way as if to say look at you. “I wouldn’t have known for the love of God, son. It’s wonderful to witness young love well and alive.”

Jungkook wears his prettiest smile, obviously enjoying the way Mr. and Mrs. Choi worship at his feet. He takes your free hand in his own before he pulls it up for a showcase, the shining diamond around your ring finger glinstering beneath the warm lights. “We mark 7 years this season.” He seems proud as he speaks, the close lipped smile telling them all they need to know.

Mrs. Choi holds an exaggerated hand to her chest, eyes growing wide at the piece of jewelry. “You must be so proud of him,” she glows when she speaks to you. “You’ve got the office’s heartthrob in your hold, dear. I can guarantee you he’s taking that award home tonight.”

“Businessman of the Year!” Mr. Choi exclaims with theatrical hands, fading away before you. “I can see it, kid. The title looks good on you.”

“Oh, I won’t assume anything.” Jungkook snickers on your side, pretty dimples visible when he smiles. “I don’t intend on winning tonight. I’ve got strong competitors to see eye to eye.”

It’s not that you’re not proud of all that Jungkook has accomplished, but the bitter smile returns and is barely perceptible. You doubt anyone notices. Hell, Jungkook’s pride seems to consume him, too far gone to notice you straying away in his warm hold. It astounds you how his colleagues seem to put him on a pedestal, quite literally worshiping the ground he walks on and hanging onto every word he says.

“They got nothing on you.” Mrs. Choi argues with a light scoff before her toothy smile returns. “But I get it. Who wants to win some trivial award when you already got your hands on the most beautiful gem in the room, right?” She throws the compliment your way, a wink thrown in there but your stomach tightens at the words all the same.

Jungkook’s gaze lingers on you, his eyes searching for a connection that seems elusive. “You know, we’re all so consumed by the road to success that we sometimes don’t realize what we already got,” he begins, eyes back at the Choi couple when you refuse to look back at him. “If tonight ends without that award, I’d be more than content to celebrate with just the two of us. Just like we always have done—years on end.”

“That’s what love is about.” Mrs. Choi nods with a tilted head like she understands. Like you and Jungkook will go home tonight and make love with butterflies in the pit of your stomach, hearts fluttering with anticipation, and a sense of triumph in the air. She probably wouldn’t smile so wide if she knew the ground you’re standing on is not so solid. “And that’s why good things come your way, Jungkook. You do everything with so much dedication and love, you should be proud of yourself.”

“It’s true.” Mr. Choi interjects, nodding sagely as he extends a wise finger. “Take that well-deserved promotion for example. It didn’t appear out of thin air, son. You’ve worked hard to earn it.”

You still on Jungkook’s side and he can feel it in an instant. He feels your eyes on him, a piercing gaze that cuts through the chatter of the lobby. His sharp brows furrow slightly as he senses your scrutiny. His voice, tinged with a mix of anticipation and apprehension breaks the silence, hopefully able to remove that big question mark off your forehead. ‘‘Yes, the promotion,’’ He begins, now avoiding your eyes as his fingers loosen at your hip. ‘‘I suppose you’re right, Mr. Choi.’’

Mrs. Choi’s cheerful demeanor suddenly falters, replaced by concern etched onto her face. “Are you feeling alright, dear?’’ She asks you, her voice filled with genuine worry. ‘‘It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You don’t spare Mrs. Choi a single glance when she puts the focus on you, practically forcing Jungkook to lock eyes with you. Your eyes bore into his, your attention solely on Jungkook and his bewildered state. “Promotion, huh?” You say, voice tinged with a touch of resentment. The bitter tone doesn’t go unnoticed. “Funny how you never mentioned anything about a promotion, Jungkook.”

He hesitates, his hand retracting slowly, an obvious gesture of unease. “Well… it was meant to be a surprise,” He pulls out of his ass, a reassuring smile aimed at the elderly couple who already seem remorseful for bringing the topic up, apologetic smiles on their faces. “To be honest, it isn’t that big of a deal anyways. Just a small step up the corporate ladder.”

‘‘A small step up the ladder?’’ You repeat a little louder than you mean to, voice dripping with disappointment. You turn to fully face him, back turned towards Mr. and Mrs. Choi when you do your best to speak through gritted teeth. “I’m not stupid, Jungkook. I know exactly what a promotion entails.”

The room seems to hold its breath, the tension palpable as the air grows heavy with unspoken words and unaddressed grievances. The once-glowing atmosphere now feels suffocating, the sense of disconnect between you and Jungkook impossible to ignore. The weight of your words fall heavy on the tip of your tongue and your eyes tell him that you’re becoming furious, the fire in your eyes burning with an intensity that can’t be contained. How dare he? You’re hanging on to this relationship with every fiber in your body and what does he think is the solution to that? Adding hours to his already demanding contract while you continue to plan more sessions with Kang Seulgi?

Jeon Jungkook’s audacity is truly unbelievable. How could he be so blind to the problems that you’re already trying to tame? He chuckles quietly, devoid of any genuine humor. His eyes dart around the room, scanning for any sign of anyone else besides the Choi couple taking note of the tension. ‘‘I was going to tell you, it’s just that nothing is final yet. I haven’t signed anything,’’ he stammers, attempting to justify him keeping this from you.

‘‘But you were going to.’’ You snarl, jabbing an accusing finger digging into his chest. ‘’Do you even realize what you’re doing, Jungkook? It’s not a matter of when. It’s the fact that you’d do it in a heartbeat, not even taking us into consideration like any decent partner would.’’

‘‘Sweetheart,’’ Mrs. Choi’s tries to interject, voice filled with concern. ‘‘I’m sure he just wanted the moment to be special,’’ Her well-intentioned effort to comfort you falls on deaf ears with a dismissive wave of your hand. You’re not sure if you can take any more of this bullshit tonight, the surge of resentment is swelling within you.

‘‘Please, excuse us,’’ Jungkook says with a forced smile, gently pushing you forward by the small of your back, signaling you’d better walk if you want to talk some more. And walk you do, your arms crossed tightly and lips pressed into a thin line, leading the way out of the sea of people chatting about God knows what.

It doesn’t take long before Jungkook gets held up again. You don’t recognize the face of the taller man who approaches him, and neither are you interested in his being, though the blood rushes to your head when Jungkook starts talking back with that familiar sweet smile. He searches for your eye over the taller man’s shoulder, making sure you’re still there before his polite, charming grin paints his lips again like nothing is wrong. Like you aren’t ready to lose each other.

You make a beeline to the bathroom the moment you realize it. And for just a moment, you find solace from the suffocating air outside the restroom. It happens the moment you lock the door and cover your bare neck in cold tap water, the reflection in the mirror staring back at you as it seems to hit you like a train. You don’t know if you and Jungkook will ever be okay. It might be the alcohol in your system, but the tears that form in the corners of your eyes threaten to escape. It’s difficult to hold them back, but you do it somehow. You wonder if there’s any hope left over, or if this promotion is just another confirmation of his growing distance, a subtle way of telling you there’s little left over to salvage.

Three quiet knocks tap against the bathroom door. ‘‘___, it’s me,’’ his voice booms from the other side and you take a moment to recollect yourself. When you look at yourself in the reflection of the mirror, tears still hang in the corners of your eyes if you pay a little attention and your throat falls dry. “Open up?” He shouldn’t see you like this. You don’t remember the last time Jungkook has seen you cry; the last time he’s seen you vulnerable.

‘‘I need a moment, Jungkook,’’ you reply, shuffling around the small space.

There’s a brief pause before he speaks again, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. ‘‘Please, just let me in. We gotta talk.’’

You hesitate for a moment, the thought of facing him now feels overwhelming. Back there, amidst the crowd of unfamiliar faces, you felt as if you could explode. Steam blowing out of your ears, blood rushing to your head. But right here, in this confined space,  it’s just you and him. Your eyes are slightly glossy and your lips anxiously curl inwards. You don’t know what’s coming over you. You’d much rather have him see you angry, with your head held high.

With a heavy sigh, you turn the lock, leaving the door ajar just wide enough so you can see his face. The tight purse of his lips eases when he takes in your appearance, and you swear you can see a glimmer of softness in his eyes. A flat, tattooed hand gently pushes the door open before he enters with his hands tucked in the pockets of his dress pants. Your fingers curl over the edge of the sink when you stumble back and lean against it, watching as he closes the door behind him and locks it.

Silence hangs heavily in the air, overtaking you. Neither of you can help it. There’s nothing to bicker about when it seems like you’re at the verge of breaking down, so silence it is. ‘‘Then talk,’’ you say, voice distant. ‘‘You’re not talking. You said we needed to.’’

Jungkook’s gaze flickers with something you can’t place. You hope it has something to do with regret and determination. He takes a step closer, closing the space between you. ‘‘What happened out there,’’ he starts, voice quiet when a finger points towards the door. ‘‘It was unnecessary, ___.’’

You shouldn’t have opened that door for him like a fool, expecting he wouldn’t spit in your face like that. You don’t know what it is you want him to tell you, but for some reason, you yearn for something that sounds like an apology. You stare into his eyes, searching for any sign of sincerity. ‘‘You waltz in here like that and that’s the first thing you say? Cut me some slack, Jungkook, please,’’

His jaw tenses, a sign of growing frustration. ‘‘___, we had a deal. No business mixing with whatever problems we have. Not tonight… not when tonight is supposed to be special.’’ Jungkook quietly reminds you, taking another step closer until your chests almost touch. ‘‘And as for the promotion,’’ he sighs heavily, his hand tugging at his tie with a frustrated huff. ‘‘I was going to tell you when it was just you and me–just us, away from all of these people. That was going to be our damn moment.’’ Jungkook spits, teeth grinding together as his brows furrow. ‘‘They had no business opening their mouths on it, but they did anyway. So if you want to be mad, then fine, do your thing. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this, but you did.’’

The small room feels suffocating, tension building with each passing second. Your tears are long forgotten every time he opens that big mouth of his, because the anger seems to consume you. ‘‘I don’t fucking care about any of that,’’ you scoff, pushing yourself off the edge of the sink with a head held high. Now you’re the one stepping closer. ‘‘It’s the idea that you would even accept all those extra hours and responsibilities when you know,’’ there is a heavy pause for you to catch your breath, a finger digging so deep in his chest it makes him stumble back a step. ‘‘When you know what is going to happen to us if you take this.’’

Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his own frustration surfacing. ‘‘And what’s happening?’’ He retorts, his voice filled with defiance. ‘‘How can you expect me to turn an opportunity like this down when I’ve worked so hard for it? I worked my ass off for this, proved my fucking worth and ended up deserving it. I haven’t even reached the age of 30 and chances like these don’t just appear out of thin air, ___. I’ve got colleagues twice my age trying to achieve what is waiting for me to grasp.’’

The intensity of the argument rises, voices echoing off the walls and you’re sure people passing on the outside hear every word. You scoff, a humorless laugh escapes you. ‘‘So this is all about your precious career, isn’t it?’’ You hold up your hand, where your wedding ring catches his eye. ‘‘You made me a promise, too. Long ago, before you knew any of those people you’re trying to prove your worth to.’’

Jungkook’s face flushes with frustration, his hands clenched into fists before they settle at your hips and shoves you back until you’re leaned against the sink again. Though not too harsh. He is never too harsh. ‘‘Why can you never be satisfied?’’ He mumbles, anger giving way to hurt. ‘‘This is my chance to provide for us, to make sure we have a future that we deserve living. Why won’t you support me, be by my fucking side?’’

Bitter laughter escapes your lips, almost grazing his own. ‘‘Support you? How can I support you when you’re digging us deeper into the ground? We’re already so close to reaching the fucking limits. So close to becoming everything we’re trying not to be and then you continue on to pull this crap? It’s like you’re waiting for us to call it quits.”

Jungkook’s anger simmers beneath the surface, his grip on your hips tightening as he fully closes the distance between your bodies. His dark, sharp gaze is fixed on you, the air between you crackling with tension at the false accusation. A blend of frustration and desire when you meet his intense gaze, the moment overwhelming you, and without a word, he closes the distance between you, crashing his lips against yours in a passionate, fiery kiss.

The kiss is fueled by a mix of anger and desire, the electricity between you undeniable. Each touch and movement speaks volumes, conveying a complex blend of emotions that words fail to express. As your lips move against his, you can feel the weight of the argument still hanging in the air, but for a moment, it's forgotten. Until he speaks against you. ‘‘That’s the last time you’re gonna accuse me of something so ridiculous. Got it?’’

Between heated kisses, angry whispers escape your lips. "You can't just expect me to follow blindly," you mutter, your voice laced with frustration. "We're too close to the edge already."

Jungkook’s hands find their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer, his voice husky as he responds. ‘‘I know, but I’m trying.’’

It is all he says, and you fight the urge to say something back just because you feel like you’ve had enough for one night. You’re the one to pull away first, a flat hand to his hard chest as you push him off with ease, no fight, no nothing. The momentary connection fades and a sense of unease settles between you. You exchange a final gaze, unresolved emotions and unspoken words clear in the air. It’s obvious that the underlying issue remains unresolved, and with that, you both walk out of the ladies’ room together. Side by side, like everything is fine. The bitter taste of the argument still hangs onto your tongues but you choose to ignore it even though there is no way you can get rid of it tonight.

Jungkook stops before the bustling crowd, causing you to stop in your tracks as well. His hand delves into the inner pocket of his jack, retrieving his wallet as he goes through the contents. With a subdued voice, he offers you his card. ‘‘Here,’’ he says quietly. ‘‘Go buy yourself something to drink. I’ll be over there talking to some people if you need me.’’

You accept the money silently, a slight nod of acknowledgement before you part ways, heading toward the bar while Jungkook navigates through the crowd. As you order your drink, the bitterness of the argument still weighs on your mind, the unresolved issues swirling in your thoughts.

Your husband hasn’t spared you much of a second glance after he handed you the money, already too busy mingling with his colleagues to notice that the bottom of your cocktail glass is starting to show. As he brings his own glass back to his pretty lips to sip on his dry wine all the way on the other side of the lobby, you continue to listen to the nameless people around you and the award he might be winning tonight. Jungkook this, Jungkook that—it might drive you crazy.

It drives you crazy, and you would probably never admit it out loud, but you feel smaller without Jungkook’s presence so close to you, without his arm secured around your waist, your chest tighter than he seems to realize. You don’t need him to feel confident, you know. You don’t need any man in order to make you feel secure about yourself. Though tonight, even though it is only for a little while, his absence feels a little more pronounced than usual, and you don’t like to feel like some fraught, single woman in her late 20s. It unsettles you, and you don’t mean to feel like it.

You’re counting fifteen minutes when you realize you’ve been staring at him for too long. Jungkook seems to be in his element, watching as you occasionally meet his eye from across the room before he rips his gaze off you, interrupted by another coworker every two minutes as they block your sight. More small talk with the man of the night as he’s sucking it up like second nature. Adoring the constant praises he’s receiving throughout the entire event. A charming smile paints his features, one that makes him look smug as hell.

“That dress makes up for the fact that you look like you don’t want to be found dead in here.” A low voice booms from behind the bar, “Valentino, no?”

The rim of the cocktail glass in your hand detaches from your lips when you realize you’re being spoken to, another spot painted a smoked almond shade at the edge. “Good eye,” you nod, high heels impatiently tapping against the steel of the barstool. It’s the first interaction since the Choi couple took notice of your distress, and suddenly, you feel a little less invincible. .

“I know a thing or two.” The owner of the velvety voice reveals himself, emerging from behind the massive camera cradled in his veiny hands. Smooth, jet black curls cascade over his forehead as a troublesome grin broadens on the unknown’s glistening lips. He briefly catches your eye before shifting his focus back to the display in his grip. Rounding the bar, he comes to sit at the edge of the stool next to you. “You seem to be a natural. Ever thought of a career shift and dropping this business ordeal?”

The picture on the display reveals. It’s not bad, you look greater than any other night, the effort you put in tonight’s look clear to see. But he’s joking, though you can barely crack a smile. “Oh, please, I’m just a plus one.”

“I see.” The man who you now assume to be tonight’s cameraman leans over the edge of the bar as he allows his camera to hang low at his neck. He subtly searches for your eye and when you meet his gaze, indicating that he’s got your attention, he pulls his focus back to the crowd, a finger beneath his nose as if he’s deep in thought. “So, which one of those pricks is responsible for making you sit here by yourself all night?”

You roll your eyes but a suppressed snicker betrays your amusement, prompting the corners of his own mouth to lift as well. Shaking your head, you choose to ignore the derogatory remark about your husband, though it might feel good if someone else would openly share your sentiments right now. “The same prick I’ve been with for the past six years,” you point Jungkook’s way when you speak, leaning a little more to the man’s side to give a good point of view. “He’s a busy guy,” you remark, Jungkook looking devilishly expensive when he’s networking, his navy blue Prada suit shimmering beneath the dim lightning. His jet black hair is slicked back and he’s never looked sexier before. Such a shame you’re not talking.

“The man of the night himself.” The guy huffs at your side, back leaning against the bar as he’s no longer interested in Jungkook, eye solely on you now. “I’m not really supposed to shoot plus ones tonight, he’d have to be in the picture for that,” he taps at his camera. “A shame he’s too busy to bat an eye when she’s looking this lovely tonight.”

A dagger to the heart, but you take it lightly. You pause as you finally take a good look into this sharp, cat-like gaze of his. A sly looking smile tugs at the corners of his lips when your eyes meet. “Complimenting a married woman? How audacious of you.”

He shrugs indifferently. “He isn’t doing it, so,” he says nonchalantly before he pulls himself together, a polite hand to his chest when he speaks. “Pardon me. It’s just that I’ve never been good at keeping thoughts to myself.”

You cock a single brow. “Is that so?”

He catches on to the challenge that’s hidden in your voice, the slight attitude you’re subtly bringing over. He pauses for a moment, reading your face before he continues. “Yeah,” he confirms quietly, though his voice is low enough to recall mischief. His eyes lower a little down your dress before he takes out his hand. “Kim Taehyung. I’m tonight’s photographer.”

You accept his hand, hot and tight around your own. It feels refreshing in some way or another, his eyes locking with yours again when his head tilts just slightly, tongue slipping out to wet his pink lips. “It’s good to meet you,” You tell him, returning your prettiest smile, “I’m ___.”

Taehyung stills. “God damn.” He curses quietly, just a whisper above his breath. “I knew you had to be from someplace else—you’re one of Minnie’s girls.”

His words take time to process. There is only one Minnie you’d know. “You mean, Minnie Chang?” You query, frowning when his knowing finger bounces your way. “My modeling agent? You know her?”

“Sure,” he beams, shoulders visibly relaxing as he sits at the edge of his seat. “I run shoots with Minnie’s girls all the time. We just wrapped up an upcoming November issue. It’s such a pity she never sets me up to shoot your covers, we use your references all the time.” His sharp eyes darken, running down your figure again. “We’d kill the job together, if you’d ask me.”

Your cheeks flush a little at the statement. “Oh, well, we probably would.” You stumble, still trying to catch on. “Though Minnie no longer works for me. I quit modeling some time ago, which is probably why we never worked together.”

Taehyung’s pretty lips part when his head tilts even more, a light and humorless chuckle escaping. “I mean, do tell me you’re screwing with me.” The smile ghosts his lips, though this time a little died down. Your silence answers his questions and the sheepish grin only adds on to it. “Forgive me for being so straightforward, but I’ve seen your works, ___. No one in their right mind would want to give such potential up for some mingling on the side bar.”

Taehyung jokes again but there’s a bit of truth hidden in it, and neither of you dare to laugh too loudly over it. You sigh, bringing the glass back to your lips even though your drink is almost finished. “You’d be surprised what love does to people.” You chuckle but it holds no humor, you just sound so ironic. Taehyung’s eyes rip away from you to scan the lobby in search for the man in question, easily found in the sea of people because Jeon Jungkook just works like that. Wherever he goes, your husband seems to carry this magnetism with him. People fall in love with him left and right, and you don’t blame them for it. Look at where you are. “I wanted to go wherever he went. Now I’m just trying to live up to the consequences.”

Taehyung hears as you try to laugh it off, chuckling softly and unable to match your energy. “I’ll give you my card,” he then decides, digging into the inner pocket of his jacket as a set of protests already stumble off your lips. “No buts,” he warns. “My office line is on there. Do whatever you want with it, but just know that you can always hit my line whenever you’re done dealing with the consequences.”

“Taehyung,” you start but it holds no weight, watching as he nips the piece of paper in between his fingers. “You don’t gotta do that.” His eyes draw back to your lips before they flicker back to meet your gaze, the curly locks at his forehead almost preventing you from doing so, seemingly darkening his eyes.

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t have to be anything big, ___.” His voice lowers, deepening as his breath almost fans your cheeks. It’s hot. A little alarming. “I own a studio downtown where we could meet up someday. I’ll shoot us a couple photos, and if you want, we could add some to your portfolio. If it feels right, you’ll know,” he says, clearly catching on to the glint in your eyes. “If it doesn’t, then all I am is wrong. But you can’t convince me you’re feeling content, sitting on the sidebar waiting for that idiot to come to his senses.”

You know Taehyung just earned himself a slap across the cheek for the degrading comments about Jungkook. For the assumptions he’s so quick to make when he’s met you five minutes ago. Probably no less than a hard push against the shoulder too, but you hold back from doing so when his words speak to you in some way. Somewhere not so deep down, you know Taehyung made some points. It has nothing to do with the rich cologne that embraces you when he stands this close, or the darkened gaze that tries to meet your own when you rip your eyes away.

“Take it.” He waves his card in the air before he gently tosses it at the bar in front, next to your empty glass. “I don’t expect you to do anything with it, but it’d feel good knowing you have it. Who knows what good it’ll bring.”

You don’t hesitate but pause anyway, meeting his eye and the moment that famous grin paints his lips, you can’t stop yourself from copying it. “Thank you. I’ll keep it somewhere safe.” You say, taking his card.

It surprises you how at ease Taehyung makes you feel afterwards. Once his card is out of sight, hidden in the safety of your handbag, he doesn’t pry further about any more modeling shoots or your forgotten career. Nor does he bring Jungkook up again, even though everyone else around you can’t seem to shut up about the man. It’s a peaceful feeling, distracted from the eye of reality because of this man who excels at making small talk. He’s chatting away about his camera, pointing at elements you don’t know the names of as he explains the functions of them.

You don’t listen. You haven’t been listening for a while and wonder how you stumbled upon this topic instead. It’s not a bad thing; Kim Taehyung makes you feel comfortable and that’s all there is to it. You appreciate him for fading your surroundings off.

It doesn't take long before a large hand rests above the swell of your ass, stroking sweet circles there. “Are you ready? They’ll start presenting the awards soon.” Jungkook’s voice booms at your left, sending a jolt of surprise through your body. You turn to face him, finding him standing there with his usual confident demeanor, contrasting with the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. The touch of his hand on your backside feels a little more possessive the longer you take your time to respond.

You glance over at Taehyung, who also seems to have noticed the change of atmosphere. His expression remains composed, a hint of curiosity glimmering in his eyes. “Yeah, I’m ready,” you say before you hop off the barstool and recollect yourself. “It was so good meeting you, Taehyung. I hope we get to talking soon.” You slide your mini bag over your shoulder, an apologetic smile at your lips. “I’m sorry for keeping you so occupied, I know you’re on the clock.”

His lips only curl into a warm smile that seems to reassure you, a small shake of his head shrugging you off as if to say you shouldn’t have to worry. Your attention reverts back to Jungkook, noting that his gaze is already fixed on you as he searches for something you can’t decipher. “Okay, I’m ready,” you repeat, this time a little more determined. He nods quietly, hand curling at your waist before he leads you the way towards the ceremony, eager to be gone, but not before he steals a look at the older man by the bar, tongue in his cheek. A hint of playful defiance glimmers in Taehyung’s eyes and Jungkook wouldn’t know for the love of God what it means.

The following hour ends up not being as dreadful as the previous ones. Jungkook still guides you throughout the night with prolonged small talk and half-filled champagne glasses which you’ve grown tired of drinking. Nobody is paying attention to the wife of, much to your luck, because it gives you the opportunity to slip into your own world with Jungkook’s hand still snaked around your waist. Taehyung’s words ghost your head instead, and as much as you try not to, you sneak a glance his way every now and then.

You can’t help it. It’s been some time since someone recognized you as anybody else than Mrs. Jeon Jungkook. The lucky one who gets to wear designer dresses and expensive jewelry with a zipped mouth on her face. The brief minutes spent with Taehyung were cut short, but reminded you of your own persona. So hidden behind the shadows of Jungkook’s success that you almost forgot you once had built the start up of a successful career as well.

You can’t think in this room. The warm air is rising to your head and all you can hear is the low murmurs of Jungkook and his colleagues at your table. You start to wonder things. Big things. Like, what if Taehyung wasn’t the only person who believed in continuing the neglected modeling career you were so desperate to let go of some time ago? What if he wasn’t the only one and you’re just meant to find the right people to support you? What if that dream was worth pursuing, now still, after all this time accepting this is what your life was going to be like; a bitter housewife in the suburbs forever holding on to a forgotten career.

“Everything okay?” Jungkook queries on your side, eyes lingering on you for too long and you don’t care to return it. His hand travels to your upper thigh beneath the table cloth but you barely process it, head too clouded with whatever you’re worrying about to take notice. “You seem distracted.” He says, his large hand resting there without much thought, warming the skin up as he gently starts rubbing in circles.

“Yes,” you say though there is a pause to it, one where you hold your breath as you wonder if you should say more. You know he doesn’t like it when things start getting personal when all these people surround you, but you’re so close to the edge. You turn to him, knees touching. “I just need some fresh air. Hand me the car keys?”

He stares at you for a moment, a look shared that tells you he’s trying to read you even when you’re shutting him out. An arm lazily rests atop the backrest of your chair as he sighs through his nose. “They’re starting soon.” He breathes out like he hasn’t said it a thousand times already. “And you’ve been drinking. I’m not handing you anything.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not drunk and I’m not driving. I’m just gonna sit in the car and take a moment for myself.” it’s your turn to sigh, a bite to your words that Jungkook easily catches on to. His eyes narrow, lips growing into a thin line. “What is it, are you not allowing me?”

His chest grows tight when he hears your words, the sassy attitude not gone by dismissed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Can’t you take half an hour longer?” His voice lowers in case anyone overhears, the back of his fingers reaching to stroke over your cheek softly. “Batting those pretty lashes the way you do it so well?”

His comment flies to your head, hitting you like a slap to the face and you search his eyes for some sort of sincerity. Some sort of remorse for spitting that degrading shit in your face like that. You notice the way people perceive you as the wife of Jeon, how they look at you because you’re just one of his pretty things. You’re aware. And you don’t need anyone to tell you, because you could care less about them. Though when the confirmation slips from Jungkook’s lips, you swear he turns the switch inside you.

“You’re an ass.” The feet of your chair screech loudly against the floor tiles of the lobby, the sound of it making heads turn your way with curious gazes. And unlike your husband, who seems troubled upon the sudden attention, you couldn’t care less, storming out of the quiet lobby like your Jimmy Choo heels are meant for you to stomp off the way you do.

You hear a faint call of your name even though it doesn’t take long before you reach the main entrance doors and fumble your way out. The anger rises to your head and you consider you might have done Jungkook a favor with the way you made it out so quickly.

It takes a couple minutes before the swinging doors you just erupted from come to a loud shut once more, revealing a heated Jungkook sauntering down the stairs. “Get moving. You were the one who wanted to go home,” He doesn’t spare you another glance when he passes you by with a pinched expression. Both your jackets hang from his arm but he doesn’t care to hand you yours, quick to rush to his Benz with you right behind him.

The only sound that fills the air is the angry stomping of your feet, Jungkook’s not as prominent as your own heels clack loudly against the pavement. “I just needed a minute out. I never said you couldn’t finish your little act in there,” you retort, frustration lacing your voice.

He opts to ignore your remark at first, jaw set and focus straight ahead. Though the more he repeats your words in the back of his head, the faster his own spill out. “I asked you not to throw a scene and you go ahead and do it anyway,” he sneers, unlocking the back door before he throws your coats on the backseats. Slamming it just as loud. “For what, ___? Couldn’t stand not being the center of attention for one night so you pull this shit?”

Jungkook is fast to open the door to the driver’s seat but you beat him to it. Slamming his door back shut only to earn one of his lethal, disturbed looks. “You take that back.” You point an accusing finger his way, trapping yourself between his hovering body and the car. “For years, I’ve been tagging along to these stupid events like some luxury piece on the side. Supporting and loving you from behind your huge ego,” you huff, a pillow of air rushing from your lips and into the icy air. “All the while you choose to show me off whenever you feel like it when I’ve been happier for you than anyone in there—’’

“Have you?” His lips curl inwards, sharp eyebrows tightening. “Because the second you heard about some promotion, a couple more hours added to my contract, you start freaking out. Running out there like the world revolves around you. I hate to break it to you, but it doesn’t, ___. Get it out of your head.”

“Jungkook—“

“I don’t want to hear it.” He quickly waves you off, pointing an angry finger back to the building you just came out of. “You know I’m winning an award at this very moment? I’m reaching the tip of the iceberg tonight, and instead of celebrating it, I’m out here trying to keep you sane.” Jungkook grunts, hand falling back to his side. “I didn’t see Jung fucking Hoseok do that last year when he won that damn award. His partner stood beside him, supporting him while he accepted the prize.”

You maintain eye contact, no matter how much fire swims in his gaze. “I know you didn’t just compare me to your coworker’s wife.” You scoff loudly, “Jung Hoseok probably has the decency to include his partner in every major decision he makes. Including promotions that will require your everything, Jungkook. If that was our case,” your finger swats back and forth between your raging bodies, “then yes, I would love to be that kind of wife for us. But I’ve done that for a long time. I can no longer be like her.”

Jungkook groans, stepping closer and causing you to press your back flat against his Benz. “Maybe Jung Hoseok works his ass off to earn such a prize in the first place, knowing his wife is there. On his side. No matter the case.”

“Well, maybe that is because Jung Hoseok and his wife never stopped loving each other!”

Little puffs of air escape your lips and the statement leaves you a little breathless when realization strikes through. They mold together with Jungkook’s, who also seems to need a moment to register whatever it was you just spat in his face. His aura changes not much longer after, eyes digging into yours with the tip of his tongue running over the back of his teeth. Jaw set tight with a dare running in his gaze. He looks down at you with heavy lids, and when you stay quiet for longer than he was hoping, he speaks up. Though the voice is low enough to pass as a warning.

“You want to repeat that for me?”

You sigh, closing your eyes as you try to place a somewhat reassuring hand to his burning chest, it’s hot and under fire beneath your palm. You didn’t mean to slap him across the face like that. “Jungkook, I didn’t mean you and I—’’

“I don’t care what the fuck you meant.” He says slowly, swatting your hand off him with an intense gaze. “Repeat that for me.”

You shake your head, keeping it up high even with the way he’s looking down on you. You can stand your own ground as well as him. “Kook, I’m not going to repeat myself when I didn’t mean to say that.” You argue, arms folding.

Jungkook locks eyes for much longer than is necessary, like he doesn’t believe you and he’s trying to find some sort of truth in them instead. Hands now situated in the pockets of his dress pants, he leans his weight down on one leg. “Then get in the car.” He then simply says, tone a bit too composed to ease you down. “We’re going home.”

“No,” you argue back with a stern voice. You’re both upset, incredibly so. The last thing you need to do right now is push your anger to the sidelines. “We’re not done talking, Jungkook.”

“We’re done.” He’s quick to tell you, taking a step back before and impatient, sharp eyebrow arches. The weight of his body on one leg. “I said, get in the car, ___. You wanted to go home? Let’s go fucking home.”

The bite in his voice is evident to send the warning through. He is just standing there, hands casually hidden in his pockets as he glares down at you, patiently waiting for you to get moving. You shoot him a look, something that says something along the lines of, seriously, this is how we’re gonna do this? He nods once. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s all you’ll get.

Fine. Two of you can be just as petty.

Jungkook is quick to get in the driver’s seat when you huff and round the car, the silence quick enough to break through the tight space once the doors slam shut. For a brief moment, the two of you just sit there, gazing at the packed parking lot without another word exchanged. You know Jungkook needs a moment to collect himself before he gets off driving you both home, but he is not the only one in desperate need to let go of some steam. The tight gripped hand around the wheel, where his knuckles turn a pale white is telling you enough about his current state. He hasn’t even stuck the key in the ignition yet and that might be for the better.

He finally looks at you without a word and you don’t back down from the challenge. He still fumes with fire when your gazes meet, lips tightly pressed together. The man watches you like a hawk, right hand still planted at the steering wheel as he stares back down at you from over his shoulder—seemingly no intention to drive off anytime soon. You seem to glow with a heated bitterness and he finds himself feeling a similar way. It does little to intimidate you, though.

Rage consumes you and the silence only seems to worsen it. You’ll have to voice your thoughts or you might go feral. “I can’t believe you’re acting like a child.”

He scoffs, bits of amusement tugging at the edges of his lips. “Don’t get me started, princess.”

Jeon Jungkook is an unbelievable man.

Your eyes narrow, challenging him. “Go get started, Kook,” a dare drips off your mocking voice, low and anticipating when you raise a single brow. ‘‘I don’t mind.’’

And just like that, something in the air shifts. Maybe it’s the way his eyes drag down your glossy lips without an ounce of shame, or the noticeable fact that his pants are starting to tighten around his crotch area. Your eyes fall down there. You can’t helpt, and neither do you mean to hide it.

“You don’t want me to, baby. Trust me.” He asserts, tone firm and unwavering.

“Try me.”

Time seems to go still and Jungkook seems like he’s hesitant, eyes flickering down your lips one or two times too many. There’s not much sentiment found on his features. No pretty little smile at the lips, and no softened gaze roundening his eyes. Instead, his jawline is locked so tight, you’re able to catch each huff and puff that leaves him. The silent battle of wills unfolds between you. There is a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, as if debating whether to succumb to your request or stand his ground.

However, Jungkook is a raging mess, all he needs right now is an outlet.

“Damn it,” He curses before he slams his lips onto yours. A surprised, muffled gasp falls from your mouth into his when your noses angrily collide, finding the right amount of balance when a tattooed hand reaches the back of your neck to keep you in place. His lips feel velvety against yours, soft and inviting despite the intensity of his movements. Even though his moves are much rougher. Much more raw.

You respond to the passionate kiss with the same intensity, kissing him back just as hard with your hand steady at his jaw. His own hand hides at your nape, both of you hovering over the storage box in between your seats like two horny teenagers hiding in his big brother’s car. Moans escape his lips and resonate against yours. Youthful desire builds the intensity, sending sweet tingles straight to your core.

‘‘Fuck, come here,’’ Jungkook utters, exhaling heavily as he settles back into his seat.

Not one to resist, you swiftly maneuver your way into the driver’s seat, straddling him with both legs on his either side. His hands instinctively find place at your lips as you lean in to capture his lips in a heated, messy kiss where you hold onto his jaw and push the back of his head to his seat. However, tonight is not like any other night. Tonight, he can’t let you take control.

Jungkook’s kisses become fervent as he pushes you against the steering wheel with a bit more force than intended, causing it to dig into your back with a sharp yelp eliciting into the air. The soft gasp you breathe out as you try to catch on easily gets ignored by him. Still adjusting to the rapid pace, his hands tenderly explore your backside, rubbing in sweet circles before moving down to roam over your ass.

His slender fingers carefully tug at the hem of your dress before he rushes to ride it up your thighs, just until your bare ass hovers above the growing bulge that’s hidden away in the dress pants that now seem too tight around his thighs for his own good. It is no longer something you could ignore even if you wanted to. Not with the way his cock throbs against your panties; the thin material of his slacks not helping much to create a decent barrier.

Nonetheless, you don’t seem to care when you shamelessly start to grind down on his clothed erection. He groans on your skin when you throw your head back, fingers playing while they tangle through his slick locks as if to guide his mouth. “Sit still,” he angrily mumbles, though he doesn’t try to still your hips from humping onto him.

“Don’t wanna,” you stubbornly mutter in response, tugging tighter at his hair in the hopes of a response. You have to hold the evil smirk that's threatening at your lips when you shift back and forth in his lap with a much quicker, more dangerous pace. “Make me?”

His mouth stills at your neck and a rush of satisfaction wavers over you. Jungkook’s hot breath fans over the same spot his lips were just pressed against, slow to look back up at you. Only to find you grinning in his lap like a fool. “You got such a big mouth on you tonight.” He murmurs so close to your lips like he’s planning on kissing you again. Heavy lidded eyes stare back at you in the dark when his middle finger hooks around the lace of your thong at your ass. “Such a big mouth but you don’t even know what you’re asking for. What a terrible trait, sweetheart.” He teasingly tugs at the thong, rubbing the material in between your sweet cheeks.

Your hands reach behind you, reaching for the zipper at the back of the dress before you start to unzip it. “I know what I’m getting myself into.” You sing, tweaking the straps off your shoulders with a teasing grin. What are you waiting for? Undress me, is what your eyes tell.

God. He can’t stand you.

His lips are on yours within a heartbeat. And neither of you plan to let go without a fight.

It’s like both of you are fighting for dominance over the other as the kiss grows more intense. Noses angrily bump into each other, teeth clash and bite into the already swollen flesh of your lips. You’re so engrossed in the lip biting and breath sharing that you barely realize Jungkook pulling down your dress with force, the latex now hunched around your waist to reveal your bare chest. It is only when his fingers reach out to pinch your hardened nipples when you break free from him, the sensitivity growing into excitement before it runs straight to your core.

“Hm, so sensitive baby.” Jungkook hums with a pleased grin threatening on his face, pinching a few more times at the sensitive buds. “I have a feeling you’re all bark and no bite tonight. How come?” He asks quietly. “Felt ignored because I didn’t look at your pretty tits all night? ‘Specially when they’re looking so nice and swollen for me right now, mhm?”

He dives down and wraps his pretty lips around the perky bud when you don’t respond on time, tonguing and nipping until he can hear you squirm on top of him. “I knew that was it.” He mumbles, letting go with a lewd pop. You almost don’t catch it with how low he is speaking, almost like you’re not even meant to hear him in the first place. His tattooed hand gently massages your other breast in the warmth of his palm. “Baby feels neglected the moment the focus isn’t on her. Ain’t that funny?” He chuckles humorlessly, something far away from genuine laughter and you don’t manage to crack a smile either. “Now she’s on top of my cock waiting to get fucked like she wasn’t acting like a total brat back there. Like brats deserve to get fucked nice and slow.”

You push Jungkook back against his seat by the chest, his head lazily lolling back without much surprise as he patiently waits for your next move with a darkened gaze. He knew he was going to press your buttons some time soon. Both your heart and head are fuming. “Not true.” You argue weakly before you decide it’s your turn to pepper angry kisses at the silky skin of his neck. Your grip tightens at his throat, right beneath his jaw. Only to keep him still, you convince yourself. “You’re an asshole. You know that, right?” You mumble against the hot skin, surprised he’s able to understand your muffled words.

Your hand isn’t that secure around his throat, but he decides to play along nonetheless, keeping his head locked to his seat. “So I’ve heard, sweetheart.”

You ignore the cheeky comment and instead allow your free hand to fumble with the leather belt wrapped so deliciously around his hips. You continue biting and licking in the crook of his neck, not caring if any purple marks find their way there. Jungkook swallows back a whimper of relief when your hasty hands unbuckle his gold coated Montblanc belt. His dress pants aren’t even supposed to be this tight fitted around his crotch area, even when he’s hard. Though it’s no secret Jungkook has been working on his thigh muscles throughout the years. And to say it has served him right would be an understatement.

“Take me out, sweetheart.” He breathes when you dip your hand inside, not yet granting him the pleasure of pulling out his cock just yet. Cupping him over his boxers instead, you suck his quiet moans up like second nature.

Jungkook’s hips eagerly buckle into your grasp and you contemplate on giving him the satisfaction this early on, because even you are growing impatient. Instead, you continue stroking his cock over his boxers, rubbing up and down his length with more pressure as you watch him exhale through his nose. Jungkook’s adams apple moves at his throat when he swallows tightly, eyes shutting in frustration.

You bring your lips to graze over his cheek, so sweet and romantically as the two of you are. Hot and sharp breaths fan on his skin. “Stop bossing me around, will you, Kook?”

He breathes lowly; still through his nose as his chest heaves up and down. Almost like he’s holding himself back from doing things you can’t handle. “Spoiled girls need someone to boss them around.” A sharp sting tingles at your ass, realizing he just spanked you there, the sudden cry you let out in the shell of his ear explaining why his large hands are now soothingly caressing the sensitive skin. “They turn into brats the minute someone doesn’t put them in place. Did you already forget the way you acted tonight, babe?”

He gently continues to knead your ass in his big hands. “You’re just as responsible as I am for that.” You whimper weakly, deciding you’ve had enough when you take Jungkook’s thick cock in hand and out of his pants and boxers. He’s warm, heavy and angry in your grip, red and swollen tip staring back at you when he’s fully out. You raise a brow at the sight. “But it seems like you don’t mind it right now.”

Jungkook isn’t sure what he despises more at the moment. The way the shit-eating grin on your face only seems to spread the longer victory consumes you, or the way his dick twitches when your hand tightens around his shaft. Jungkook holds back his grunts. Adding free coins to your egoism is the least bullet point on his to-do list.

“Careful,” he speaks with a warning, eyes flickering back down your lips before the tips of his fingers slide down your covered slit from the back. They rasp against the black lace a little before he adds more pressure where your hole is covered, content to feel your soaked cunt leaking through the fabric. Continuing to feel up to the damp spot, he speaks. “You’re not one to talk when you’re dripping like this. Take this off for me, sweetheart.” He hints at your panties even though he is the one dragging the lace down your legs already.

For as far as his cramped Mercedes allows you to reach down atop his muscled thighs, you make sure you’re at a safe distance before a chunk of spit runs off your lips and onto his throbbing cock. Jungkook groans loudly, hips rutting up when you start pumping him with a tight grasp. You maintain eye contact while you do so, addicted to the way his hazy gaze angrily stares back at you, free hand moving to knead his balls. Your thumb grazes over the head, silently massaging his slit where you spread the precum over the rest of his leaking cock.

“Fuck,” you curse, the wetness coating your fingers. “Want you in my mouth.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yeah.” You repeat.

Jungkook’s hands tighten at your waist, digging into your skin. “None of that.” He then mumbles, earning a confused frown from you. “Rub yourself against my cock, baby. Need to feel how wet this tight cunt is for me.”

“God.” You roll your eyes like you mean it, but your pussy starts to throb at the thought already. He knows it does. How could he not? Jeon Jungkook knows you from the inside out; knows what you like and what you don’t like. Six years of being with you has taught him that much. And because of that, Jungkook is not one to wait around for you to make your move and pushes his hands harder at your hips instead, guiding your bare cunt towards his cock.

“That’s it.” Jungkook lets out a low groan from the base of his throat, the pressure at your hips slacking down once you take over with a slower, more experimental pace. His head falls back and his thick neck comes into view instead, velvety skin on display when your cold fingers hide to intertwine at his nape again. Wet lips drag over his cock and spread wider the more pressure you add. “Look at you soaking my cock like you’re ready to ride it. As if girls like you deserve to be stretched out in the first place.”

“I deserve it.” You nearly stutter when you find the right amount of pressure, your clit now directly rubbing against his head.

He hums softly at your engrossed self. “Yeah?” He continues to ask. “You think you deserve to fuck yourself off on this cock?”

You can only nod in return when your pace increases and eyes shut tight. Jungkook takes sight of the teeth that dig into your lower lip and nails that scratch at the skin at the back of his neck. He moans a little at the sharp feel, his own chest heaving up and down when the blood rushes to his cock. “Can’t hear you, baby.” He pushes when you continue to rock against him without another word, his tattooed hand spanking your ass cheek again to grab your attention. “Need words to decide if I’m letting you ride me.”

It’s not an easy job to pry your eyes open again when your cunt is so deliciously dragging against him, but you manage to do so with heavy lids. “Not to bruise your ego, babe,” you breathe out, thumb padding on his slit as if addressing an obvious issue at hand. “But you’re not really in a position to make demands either.”

He huffs out some air, the warmth of it fanning against your lips. You know you’ve got him trapped without a comeback to throw back in your face when he pierces a single brow. “You should really do something about that mouth.”

“Thought you said you were gonna take care of that.” You boldly recall, clearly challenging him. “Or are you backing out so soon?”

Jungkook doesn’t care enough to defend himself against your assumptions. Instead, he nods his head to the backseat. “Get back there.” He instructs with pressed brows. “You won’t be so smart when you’re coming on my tongue.”

A dramatic sigh leaves your lips like you’re tired. Hands cupping his cheeks sweetly, the back of his head easily lolls to his seat so he looks up at you with those darkened, dangerous eyes. You take him into a slow and wet kiss where your lips seem to dance together in unison, breathing heavily into each other until his tongue presses between your parted lips in an attempt to enter. But you pull away on time. Still, only inches away from his face, his eyes glued to your lips. “You don’t have to eat me out. I can take you right now.” You heave with swollen lips brushing his.

“You know I don’t mind,” Jungkook frowns a little at the odd statement, fingers absentmindedly running circles at your hips again.

“I know you don’t.” You’re quick to speak, hands moving to rub at his shoulders. “But Kook,” you whine with an obvious pout, removing his grip off your hips before you guide his fingers to your dripping cunt, voice sweeter than candy as you watch him observing quietly. “Feel me—I’m so wet for you. Can’t I have you right now?”

A sense of relief already rushes through you when Jungkook’s fingers carefully pad at your wet lips, spreading them apart with a clear string of fluid sticking to his fingertips. “You’re soaked,” he says like you don’t already know, and you can only nod in agreement, the glossed and pouty lips never leaving your face. His cock grows harder in his pants at the feel of your hand cupping his own, hips rolling into his palm. “I won’t hurt you because we’re being eager, though.”

“Aw, come on babe,” you whimper like a little child. “I’ll let you know if it hurts...”

You watch him hesitate for a bit, playing it off when his finger sinks into your warmth. Subtle and careful at first, focusing on the way your walls tighten around the thick digit. You’re sucking him up like he’s meant to be there, silent moans hanging in the base of your throat when he starts pumping inside of you, deliciously curling at your walls. “I see what this is about,” you say with an edge cut sharp, a moan already at the tip of your tongue when his pace increases. ‘‘You’re scared you’ll bust the moment you’re in deep.”

You’re obviously teasing him. Evident in the way your heavy eyes fall down on him with a slight curve at the corners of your lips. He scoffs anyways, your words getting to him whether you’re joking or not. “Please,” he laughs, a humorless chuckle thrown in your face. “We both know I got you creaming around my cock before I even get the chance to.”

You tug a little at his long, jet black locks that were slicked back so perfectly before. Watching as his head rocks back at the action. “Show me? Make me regret assuming.”

He visibly gulps, but not out of nervosity. No, Jeon Jungkook rarely gets nervous, especially not around the woman he spent a total of six years with. Instead, he wonders what to do with you and your crazy attitude. There is a quiet dare you’re exchanging and he catches on just as fast. Never being one to sit back down on a challenge. Especially not when it comes to you and your sneaky games. Though truth be told, Jungkook can be just as devious as you do it.

“Ride me, sweetheart.”

Jungkook’s green card causes your devious lips to form back into the familiar sweeping grin while your excitement flows straight to your cunt. You palm his cock in your hand, feeling as he gets harder in your hold at the sensation. Lining him up between your lips, Jungkook is found having a hard time keeping himself sane, watching you with thoughts drowning him as the head disappears in your tight pussy, already sucking him up like you’ve never taken him before. “Good girl. Go nice and slow for me.” He grunts quietly, fingers digging harder at your sides the lower you sink down and onto his cock. “So good to me whenever you want to, hm?”

Your head falls to rest in the crook of his neck and you feel him move with you, lips at your temples waiting in anticipation. Like he expects an answer. “I’m always good to you.”

“Whenever you want to,” he corrects with a sharp edge, hands roaming over your ass in soothing circles when he can feel your hot, short cut breaths in his neck, inhaling the fresh citrus smell of his fragrance just the way you’re used to. His own chest heaves up and down in hammered motions, cock deliciously brushing against your velvety walls when you take all of him. “Fuck, so tight. Would’ve been much easier if you let me eat you out, sweetheart.”

“I can take it.” You whimper against his skin, stilling to let both of you adjust. Slumping down, chest against chest for a mere minute before you suck a sharp breath in when he reaches in between your bodies, thumb continuing to rub small and fast circles at your clit. “J- Kook,” you voice just above a whisper, his fingers circling with more pressure at your clit. “Kook...”

“What is it, baby?” He asks, voice vibrating at the shell of your ear when his lips are so painfully close. “Are you already starting to regret it? I knew you were bluffing, but damn, can’t even play pretend so soon?”

He’s mocking you with that annoying tone of voice, and everything in you wants to prove him wrong. To spare yourself the embarrassment of being caught slacking. Slowly, you start to move with his thumb still driving you insane at your clit. It’s a small and minor movement at first, making sure he feels every little drag of your walls around his angry cock before he gets the chance to open that big mouth again. Well, to be frank, it is open; pretty and plush lips slightly parted to let the moans die down on his tongue.

You remove your head off his shoulder just so you can catch the look on his face when you heave yourself up, only until his tip is inside you and the rest of his cock is already covered with your juices. He shoots you a look that tests your limits, but you’re not intimidated enough to back down and mirror him when you sink onto his cock once more. The familiar stretch of his thick shaft making both of you moan out in delight, blending perfectly together in the narrow space of his Benz.

“Fuck, Kook.”

His shoulders slump a little, eyes shutting tight and the sight of it only makes you bounce faster on his cock. His slight curve hits the sweeter, more sensitive spot with each roll of your hips and your head nearly falls back at the delicious feel. Sharpened nails dig into his blouse at the shoulders but Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind the slightest, probably too lost in his own pleasure to even notice. His tattooed hand reaches out to tug at your nipple some more, sweet moans of delight filling the air almost instantly.  

Jungkook got his veiny arm secured around the small of your waist, keeping you close enough to him to the point your breasts are pressed against his chest. Bouncing on his cock the way you do it so gracefully, you let your head fall down his shoulder, where your breaths become heavier and more ragged. “So eager for someone you claim no longer to love,” he hisses, seizing the opportunity to sink his teeth into the sensitive skin at your neck, just beneath your jaw. “Isn’t that what you said, baby? That we no longer love each other?”

“I didn’t mean it,” you groan, uttering out the words as he bites down even harder, intensifying the searing sensation in the heat of your neck.

His fingers curl at your hips, guiding them up and down above him with a delicious stretch of his cock at your walls. “So what,” he drawls, jaw twitching when your pussy tightens around him. “You said it just to say it?”

One thing about Jungkook is that, even after all these years of being married to you, he never tells you what the deal is about. You said something you weren’t supposed to? Sure thing, but he needs you to figure out what you did wrong yourself. Being the business man at heart, he has taught himself since his early college days to be straight forward and precise. Straight to the point. A no-nonsense approach with an ability to cut through the fluff. It’s a dance you’ve become familiar with. Maybe all he wants to hear is an apology, some cue that indicates a hint of regret—he himself isn’t even so sure. Maybe he just wants to know if you meant it.

Between heavy gasps and angry moans, you manage to speak, voice strained with a mix of arousal and remorse. “I... I didn’t mean it in the way you think,” you pant, the words barely audible in between your entangled bodies. “I was angry... and lashed out.”

Jungkook shudders, gripping onto you in a way that makes your hips still with only the tip of his cock inside. Your pussy pulses around nothing, desperate for the release he’s been building up so effortlessly. “Yeah?” He huffs, hips lifting off his seat to buckle into you with harsher, deeper thrusts. You can barely breathe when his pace increases and the only sound that’s filling the car is skin slapping against skin. “You just had to have the last word, didn’t you? Baby couldn’t keep her pretty mouth shut so she spews shit like that out.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” you argue back, lifting your head to meet him for a messy kiss you can’t keep up with. Not with the way his thrusts bounce you up and down his dick uncontrollably. Lips angrily dancing together like it’s your last time, moans molding together like it’s your last taste. “I didn’t mean it like that, Kook.”

Those slender, tattooed fingers run back down until he spreads your ass cheeks apart, gaining more control over you as you let him guide you throughout the thrusts. “Neither did I,” he says and you’re not entirely sure what he means by that. Rhythm becoming more focused than before, you notice his thrust seeming to slow down a little, though his dick reaches deeper, sweeter spots inside you that has you yelping into the tight air. “This pretty pussy about to cream my cock?”

You whimper with despair, head thrown back as he fucks into you from below. The tip of his dick reaches all your sweet spots each time his hips meet your ass, eliciting your head to fall back and exposing your velvety neck before him. “Fuck, yes,” Jungkook is quick to place his lips at your throat, soothingly swiveling his tongue around in circled motions. “You fill me up so well.”

“Do I?” He knows he does. Can feel how each drag of his cock in between your sweet, hot walls drives you a little more crazy. “Are you gonna make me dirty and cum all over me when I fuck you like this? Baby can’t take it?”

‘‘I can take it. Jungkook, please,’’ a lewd moan leaves your lips when his hand curls around your throat, heated and tight until he can feel you swallow against his palm.

Your pleads don’t fall on deaf ears when Jungkook firmly plants both feet to the floor, one hand tightening around your hip and the other around your throat. Lifting your hips until your warm walls are only wrapped around the tip of his cock, he pauses, locking eyes with you and keeping it there as if telling you there’s nowhere else for you to look at. He doesn’t give you any other warning before he’s thrusting into you, hips meeting your ass cheeks with force until he’s satisfied and buried to the hilt. “Keep your eyes open babe, want you looking at me while I fuck you.” He doesn’t move, keeping his cock deep inside you until you manage to pry your eyes open and meet his dark gaze, lips formed into a big O.

You do as he says, unable to get another word out when his hips draw back back, cock deliciously returning with another single, harsh thrust that got your tits bouncing up and down. It takes everything in you not to break eye contact, not to pinch your eyes to a tight close with the way he fills you so well. “Oh my God,” you choke out, barely audible as your hand wraps around his wrist by your neck, nails scratching against his sweet skin.

Jungkook sucks your whimpers up, watching your eyes grow heavier before he pounds into you again. Pace fastening with each thrust that becomes a little more precise and aimed to reach your sweet spot. Your moans grow uncontrolled and his name rolls off your lips with each thrust, the sound of your shaky breaths melting together with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the slight curve of his cock so deep in between your walls, you have a hard time keeping it together.

“I said, eyes open. Keep them on me.” Jungkook rasps out in between his own heavy breaths when your eyes shut close again. “That’s it, my pretty girl.” Lewd whimpers fill the air and he’s loving every sound that comes from you, ego swelling at each whine and each sob you throw his way. 

‘‘Fuck, Jungkook.’’ Your moans fill up the tiny space with each drag of his cock hitting your sweet spots, you don’t know how much longer you can take it when he pounds into you so deliciously.

‘‘Shit, cum for me, baby. Cream my cock.’’ He groans out loud, reconnecting your lips in a breathless kiss as he doesn’t need to tell you twice. The wave of your orgasm running through you, body tensing as your juices coat his thick cock.

He’s panting now, the feeling of your pussy clenching around him and as you coat him to the brim drives him insane. He pumps into you a couple times more before unloading inside. Your head falls back at the hot feeling of him filling you up, buried into you as he groans into the suffocating air.

It’s a funny thing, the way you and Jungkook operate.

Contrary to what many might assume, even after being together with the man for almost 7 years, you still have no idea what the fuck you’re doing. Finding yourselves grappling with a sense of uncertainty, far from a picture perfect commitment the way you’d think of marriage those years ago. It isn’t a pretty sight, but you figure either of you have gotten used to the same song, the same  rhythm that there is to your relationship, a dance of trial and error, where you stumble your way through challenges together, yet apart.

It defies logic when you put it that way. It isn’t a secret that you and Jungkook haven’t been able to make each other happy for quite some time, to put it plain and simple. Initially, the two of you were capable of hiding your worries beneath a thick blanket of luxury items and long office hours, and it’s not like much of that has changed, but the clock is ticking until Jungkook is leaving for his two-month business trip and you haven’t exchanged a word since the event two days ago. Since the heated sex in the driver’s seat of Jungkook’s Mercedez. Usually you’d just shrug it off, swearing no ignorant man of a husband is worth the wrinkles at your forehead.

So you’re not sure why you can’t seem to lift the weight of your shoulders off.

It feels wrong, that is. Wrong for Jungkook to leave you to fetch for yourself for two months without some sort of reconciliation. He tries to maintain some resemblance to your usual routine, you can tell. He continues to hold you during your sleep, an arm draped around your waist as you can hear the peaceful rhythm of his breaths. Though he isn’t close enough for you to feel his burning, bare chest against your back. He still brings back home dinner from your favorite Malay takeaway downtown, but doesn’t linger at the dinner table to make sure you eat everything to the last rice grain. He still surprises you with beaming jewelry you added to your wishlist months ago, but doesn’t stay to look how it adorns you.

Jungkook’s absence drains you.

It’s true. Not a fact you would ever admit out loud, but when push comes to shove, you might want him by your side every here and now. Yet at the end of the day, you’re a stubborn woman. Always have been and Jungkook knew it from the start. If he wanted to fix things between you before he leaves for his trip, then he would’ve done it by now.

‘‘Aren’t you supposed to be at work?’’ Your voice beams through the living room, Jungkook’s presence surprising you as you enter. Seated at the sofa, his back faces you as he’s dressed in his formal attire, elbows digging into his thighs as he’s typing away on his phone.

You linger at the arm of the sofa, gaze fixed at his side. There is a moment of silence that settles between you, filled by the quiet taps of his thumb against the screen. ‘‘My meeting got canceled,’’ he answers, voice tinged with a bit of weariness. ‘‘I only got a few hours before I have to get back.’’

The tension in your shoulders ease slightly, but your guard remains there. ‘‘Oh,’’ you respond dryly, that being all you can give him right now, turning on your heel to grab your shoes and coat and move your way out of the house.

Slipping your shoes on with your coat hanging in the crook of your arm, the car keys rumble loudly in your grip. Jungkook’s voice cuts through the air, making you halt in your steps. ‘‘I was thinking we’d see Seulgi in the meantime,’’ He calls over his shoulder, barely turning around to see you eye to eye. ‘‘I just called and she says she got a gap free for us.’’

Your brows furrow and his words hang in the air for a moment, his eyes glue back to his screen, mindlessly scrolling through it and you wonder what is going on through his head. You saunter back to the sofa, weight leaning on one leg when you stand before him again. ‘‘Right now?’’ You ask, head tilting. ‘‘I’ve got things to do, Jungkook.’’

Jungkook sighs, setting his phone aside and clasping his hands together between his thighs. He musters a smile, though it seems more ironic than genuine. ‘‘Well, it’s kind of urgent, ___,’’ He smiles with closed lips though it seems ironic. ‘‘Considering the fact that I’ll be leaving in less than a week.’’

You stand there, feeling your feet glued to the floor. ‘‘That’s not on me,’’ you manage to utter, an accusation thrown in there. It’s almost like he’s shifting the blame on you. Like you were the one to tell him to get on that boat and leave for two months. ‘‘You were the one who wanted to go on that trip, Jungkook, not me. If you wanted to see Seulgi you should’ve planned it sooner because I already made plans for today.” You call, “I can’t just reschedule them.’’

You hold his gaze, your eyes conveying a mix of frustration and disappointment. The silence that follows is heavy, charged with unspoken tension. You realize that the disconnect between you and Jungkook runs deeper than this singular moment. It's a culmination of unaddressed issues and unmet expectations that have taken a toll on your relationship. ‘‘Can’t you see that I’m trying? I just want to make things right before I leave,’’ Jungkook sighs softly, ‘‘she already said she doesn’t do virtual sessions. You know this could be the last time in a long time for us to visit?’’

Your patience wears thin when your eyes meet. He looks at you like you get to cut through the ropes, which in fact, right now you do. But again, you're not the one to distance yourself for months on end. You can’t help but blame him. ‘‘That still isn’t on me.’’

You’re fast to turn on your heel, ready to leave him in that big house. But you don’t get far when a gentle grip takes your hand in his own. He takes you by surprise, turning to look at him when his eyes find yours. His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold on to you, to keep you from slipping away. There’s a silent plea in his gaze, a plea for understanding and trying to make things right.

‘‘Why are you pushing me away?’’ His voice is quiet as he tugs at your hand, urging you to stand before him again.

‘‘I’m not,” you respond, your voice laced with a touch of defensiveness, giving up the fight to his gentle grip, where he guides you to stand between his legs.

“I’m trying to make amends,” he adds, his tone a little gentler than before. “I’m trying, but you won’t even tell me where you're going.’’

His words leave you a little hesitant, torn between the desire to hold onto your grievances and the flicker of hope that perhaps there is a chance for reconciliation. “I don’t see how it’s important where I’m off to,” you finally say, looking down at those big eyes that stare back at you. “I already made plans and that’s all there is to it.”

His grip on your hands tightens slightly, his thumb gently caressing the back of it as he searches for the right words. “It matters to me because I want to be there for us,” he says, his voice earnest. There is a vulnerability in his eyes, a genuine sincerity that tugs at your heart a little. “I leave in less than a week and I take full responsibility for that decision, but at least give me the chance to make things right before I leave.”

With a soft sigh, you release your hand from his grip and reach up to cup his face, your thumb gently brushing up his cheeks as an amused, humorless smile paints your lips. “A single, last minute session with Seulgi isn’t going to ‘make things right’, Jungkook.” You mock him, softly pinching his cheek like he’s a child. You turn your back on him, gathering your things with your shoulder bag secured beneath your arm. “If anything, it’ll just make things worse the way we do it.”

Jungkook hears the chuckle that escapes your lips but can’t bring himself to crack a smile, unable to catch the joke at hand. Sharp eyes never leave your frame as you shuffle around the living room, collecting everything you need before getting out of the house. “Fine,” his voice booms through the room as he stands up with a huff, hands at his hips. “We’ll just sit here and talk if that’s the way you want to do it.”

“And then? You think that’ll do the trick?” You retort, bitter laughter escaping your lips. You can count the amount of times you and Jungkook could’ve just sat down just to talk and fix your issues on one hand. You’ve always been here, at the house, waiting for him to finish his shifts to do exactly that. Now his meeting got canceled and suddenly he got time for you?

Jungkook’s eyebrows knit together, his own frustration rising to the surface. “I never said it would magically fix everything,” he shoots back, his tone matching your intensity. “But at least it shows that I’m trying, that I want to make things right before I leave.”

You scoff. “Trying? Is that what you call it?” Sarcasm drips off your voice when you finally turn to face him, seemingly ready to get your ass moving right then and there. “Fine. Let’s try when I get back home tonight.”

The haste kiss you place at his cheek nearly comes across as an insult, your lips barely lingering for a moment before you pull away. And just like that, you’re ready to fly out of the door, fueled by frustration and the desire to escape the argument that has consumed the room. Jungkook thinks you’re being childish, perhaps a little selfish when he watches the way you almost seem to float your way off. He understands that a two month business trip will only deepen the rift between you, but living like you’re strangers during your last days together, leaving with a packed suitcase on empty words—he doesn’t want to know what would happen in that case.

“What in the world could be a priority over an attempt to fix your relationship right now?” Jungkook’s voice rings just as your hand grips onto the doorknob, the frustration evident as his voice raises to catch your attention.

You pause on your tracks, still holding onto the doorknob with all you got. The impact of his question makes you halt, awfully familiar like you’ve heard it somewhere before. “Funny thing you ask that, considering I’ve asked myself that same question every time you head off to wherever you are needed at the time.” You retort, bitterness lacing on to every word. You hum like you’re thinking, “I never got an answer to that, by the way.”

Jungkook’s shoulders slump, his eyes searching for your understanding. “That’s because I’ve got a job. To provide for us, ___. You know that much so don’t go around acting dense, please.”

You narrow your eyes at him, the anger bubbling up inside you. “Oh, so now I’m acting dense? That’s how you see it?” The bitterness in your tone is impossible to conceal. “You can’t just use your job as an excuse every time it becomes convenient. Be fair, Jungkook, we wouldn’t even have this conversation if it wasn’t for your canceled meeting, so why make such a big deal out of this?”

His expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his face. “I do what I have to do for us,” he replies, voice tinged with frustration. “You’re right. I’m not always able to combine business and private matters the way I wish I’d be able to. But I try, and I work hard so we can live a comfortable life. Is that not important to you?”

Bitter laughter escapes you and echoes through the hall, watching as he reaches closer. “Of course it is, but I am not a second job to you. I refuse to be,” you’re quick to argue back. “We can have a talk, but it’s not going to be an easy one and we both know it. So if we’re talking, then it’s not going to be when you conveniently got a meeting that got canceled. You’re going to have to prioritize us and our issues if you really want it to work, Jungkook.”

“I’m ready to sit down and do exactly that, right now,” there is a fire that swims through his gaze as he says it, one that dares to tell you you’re in the wrong. The hesitation runs through yours, it’s all he can see the longer you lock eyes. “I’ll clear my schedule for the rest of the day if that’s what it takes, ___.”

Kim Taehyung crosses your mind.

You can’t help it; his image flashes through your head without an ounce of control. Because right in this fleeting moment, the guilt chimes at your chest as Jungkook looks at you with expectant eyes.

Truth be told, the unfamiliar man had been on your mind ever since you talked to him at the event. It had much less to do with his good looks, his charming persona and much more to do with the topics you shared, the things he had to offer. Things you thought you had let go of a long time ago with a heavy heart and a hard pillow to swallow.

Modeling was no longer part of the game for you. It’s one thing you accepted a long time ago. The first night after the event took place, you managed to ignore that gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach, thinking that feeling would be gone in the morning, where all you had to worry about again was you and Jungkook, only to wake up and his offer being the first thing you could think of. You couldn’t get your mind off it even if you truly wanted to. Unable to help yourself, you couldn’t think of your meeting with Taehyung as much of a coincidence. Not when he was linked to your world of fame, to all the people you had let go of; the colleagues, the creative editors, the artists that you were once part of.

His card burnt the inner pockets of your handbag that night.

“Where are you heading off to that makes you want to say no?” Jungkook’s question pierces through your thoughts, jolting you back to the present as his voice brims with curiosity, his eyes searching for answers. Yet, you hesitate to respond, uncertain if revealing the truth would only complicate matters further.

“It’s nothing important, just personal matters.” You reply vaguely, avoiding his gaze.

The room descends into an uneasy silence, the tension thickening in the air. Jungkook senses your hesitation, his face contorted with frustration. “___, please,” he implores, voice tinged with hints of despair. “Personal matters? I’m your husband.”

Jungkook’s words strike a chord within you, the weight of his statement hanging heavily in the air. It’s not that you don’t want to tell Jungkook about Taehyung, about the session he promised you. It’s just that this is also something new to you. You don’t know what you want yet, you don’t know where this newfound opportunity with Taehyung might lead to. Discussing this with Jungkook only makes everything so much more official and binding.

“I met someone at the event—the photographer,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you remember him? His name is Taehyung,”

“Taehyung,” he repeats quietly, the question mark still visible at his forehead. His lips purse, searching your eyes for more clarity. “Yes, I remember him. What does this mean, ___?”

You can hear the impatience getting to him, the tension mounting between you both. “It means… we got to talking while you were networking with your coworkers,” you say, the statement leaving your lips a little saltier than you intended to. “So, the topic of modeling kind of came up in the conversation. Did you know he works with Minnie?”

“Minnie Chang? As in, your modeling agent?” His brows furrow, voice quiet enough for you to know this isn’t good news to him.

“Yes, her.” You nod along, unable to help the excitement growing at your chest. “Turns out Taehyung has been working with her on projects for some time. Crazy, isn’t it? I mean, he still thinks I have some potential in the industry after all those years of neglecting it. He even gave me his card that night, says there’s no strings attached to it.”

“And now you’re off to a shoot with the guy himself,” he huffs as his arms fall limp to his sides, hands at his hips as he searches your eyes for something you can’t place. “I don’t get it, ___. I thought we agreed you were done modeling? You want to dive back into that world even though we got our own shit to sort out?”

“I know what we agreed on,” you argue back, taking a sharp breath. “It’s nothing big, Taehyung said so himself. It’s a one-time shoot and if I decide to do something with it, then I will.” His eyes tell you all you need to know, they’re sharp and dig into your skull. You drop your keys into your back with a sigh of disbelief. You can’t believe he’s doubting you right now. “But I know I won’t. It’s a one-time thing. It’s not like I’m looking for a fulltime job, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s frustration is palpable as he clenches his jaw, his voice tinged with bits of disappointment. “One-time thing or not, it’s about the principle, ___.’’ He says, more sternly than you’re used to when it comes to him. ‘’Seems like you’re ready to push our problems to the side this once. So why not twice? Or three or four times every time they'll call you in for another shoot?’’

You scoff, brow arching upon his daring words. Turning on your heel, you dart out of the door, beams of sun hit your face instantly. ‘‘You’re one to speak.’’ A humorless chuckle leaves your throat, the sour smile on your face still there even though it feels like it’s crumbling. ‘‘You’d finally know how that feels, then. When the person who is supposed to be there every step on the way just neglects you with a snap of the finger,’’ you angrily mumble, his own feet rushing after yours towards the car. You spin around once you reach it, feeling he’s hot on your tail. ‘‘It doesn’t feel good, I know, baby,’’ you say, voice laced with exasperation, ‘‘but you’re off on that trip in just a few days. Either of us are gonna have to get used to that feeling, whether we like it or not.’’

Jungkook’s footsteps slow down as he reaches to stand before you, towering over your smaller frame. ‘‘You can’t be serious,’’ he blurts, gesturing a hand towards his chest. ‘’Can’t you see that I’m making an effort? It’s not easy for me either, ___. I don’t want us to be apart any more than you do. So why push me away for some random shoot that just fell into your hands?’’

‘‘Because this,’’ a pointy finger swivels between your chests, emphasizing the growing divide. ‘‘This isn’t working.’’ The weight of your words press down on you, a heaviness settling in your chest. ‘‘It isn’t, and we’re still holding onto the last thread like it is. You and I need to come up with a new strategy or so help me God, we won’t last. Taehyung gave me an opportunity that night and I’m trying not to be miserable in this house, Kook. That’s all there is to it, I need distraction too.’’

You can tell he’s holding back. Can tell by the way he sucks in his tongue, jaw sharpening because of it as his lips turn into a tight line. ‘‘So this is it, then?’’ He asks, crossing his arms with a puffed chest. ‘‘Let’s stop trying and just hope for the best because you need a little something to distract yourself with. Correct?’’

“Don’t twist my words.” You snap, meeting his fierce gaze as the intensity of the moment grounds you both. “Fuck it. I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you accusing me of shit I didn’t even say,” you delve in your handbag, swearing you left your car keys somewhere in there.

You’re obviously hitting his last nerve. It’s clear, evident in the way he holds his index finger to his nose like he’s thinking. Frowned, sharp brows and a tight line of his lips as he weighs his weight to one leg. “We’re never gonna solve any of our shit if we keep running from it.” He says through gritted teeth, holding himself back from raising his voice at the driveway. “Do you want to make your point clear, is that it? Because I fucking got it. I’m a shit husband who puts zero time and effort into his relationship. I fucking got it. But I’m trying to get somewhere now,” he watches as you dig deeper into your bag, unable to focus on the task at hand with him fuming before you. “And now that I am, you’re feeding yourself into delusions because you want to be petty and are determined to make me feel the same way? Is that really what you’d rather do today, ___?”

“Please,” you repeat with a loud scoff, gaze burning into his. “Believe it or not, baby, but my world doesn’t revolve around you,” you pinch his cheek in a mocking manner, not shocked when he’s quick to tear your touch off him. “Or at least, I’m trying not to make you my first priority, considering you’ve stopped doing that a while ago. If it taught me one thing over the years, it must be that it made me fucking miserable. Blame me all you want for not wanting to feel that way. I don’t give a fuck.”

“Baby,” he sings sweetly, a hand at your cheek as he makes sure your eyes stay locked together. He captures the fire blazing in your eyes, burning into his skull. “We can drop the big-girl act right now and head inside. I mean it,” he says, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Right now it’s your word against mine. I’ll pour us something to drink and we’ll sit down. Just you and me, that's all we need.”

You jerk away from his touch, the intensity of the moment still pulsing between you. Drop the act? You’re seething. Jeon Jungkook always finds a way to make the steam blow out of your ears. “I don’t need anything from you.” You snap without missing a beat, thankful for the way you’re magically able to find your car keys in one of the side pockets of your bag.

For a moment, silence hangs in the air, heavy with unresolved tension. You watch as his lips part, looking for words to argue with, but nothing comes out. It feels like a confirmation when it happens. You need to be anywhere but with him right now, and so does he.

Kim Taehyung is nothing like Jungkook.

It’s an obvious matter of fact which you can’t help but examine into detail. Taehyung’s fragrance fans you off in a refined way, a gentle and classy blend of notes that seems to match that charismatic, boxy smile he keeps sending your way. And while Jungkook usually dresses in formal designer attire, woody essence hanging in the crooks of his neck, Taehyung dresses not only to impress, but also to express his artistic soul. Loose button up tucked in black trousers that sway at his legs with each step, it comes to showcase his vibrant and flowy persona. The color palette, combined with that perfect set of teeth represents his chic, suave ways of working. It comes to contrast Jungkook entirely.

Maybe you notice it because you’ve nearly spent a decade with the man. By his side day in and day out with a commitment beautifully decorating your ring finger, straight to a point where you could no longer see through each other’s flaws. And maybe that is where Taehyung comes in as a fresh breath of air. Even now that you’ve only seen the man twice in a lifetime, you only seem to focus on all the ways he seems to differ from Jungkook.

Do you feel guilty about the fact you’re watching Taehyung like a hawk, the lens on him a little too focused to point out all the things Jungkook isn’t? Not really. Right now, you don’t really feel anything. You drove over to Taehyung’s studio with half a heart racing against your ribcage, all the things you and Jungkook told each other in the back of your mind even as you arrived. Fifteen minutes late and dissolved hair that seemed like a hand has been through it a couple times.

Taehyung didn’t question it and you’re thankful he kept quiet. The last thing you need to have on your mind is Jungkook. Not his angry words, not even yours. And the charming photographer did a great job at keeping your mind off him the first hour of the session, it’s not his fault.

“You hate them.” Taehyung declares at your side, the camera in his hands falling down to his lap in a defeated manner. He’s seated at the corner of the table, one leg dangling off it right next to your high chair.

“It’s not that I hate them,” you murmur, your voice barely audible over the distant hum of the studio. Taehyung’s gaze lingers on you, his eyes holding onto a sense of curiosity. You feel the weight of his unwavering attention, and for a moment, Jungkook is all you can think of. “It’s more like I had forgotten how good this feels... all of this. Really, your shots are amazing. I guess I’m just kind of in shock.”

A tiny smile creeps up at the corners of his lips, eyes never leaving yours. “It’s only half the work with a model like you,” he snickers cutely, nudging at your side. “And I don’t want to make this an I-knew-it-better-moment, but... I kind of told you so from the start.”

You can’t help but return his smile. “I know, you’re a genius.”

“Your words, not mine.” Taehyung holds his hands up in defense, the smile that’s teasing at his lips enough to tell you he agrees. “So, what do you say? I’ve got a few empty portfolios in the back, we could print some of these photos out and make it yours.”

The wink he throws your way doesn’t go by unnoticed, his sneaky, encouraging grin filled with enthusiasm as he waits for you with a glimmer in his eyes. Your heart swells at the sight, lower belly piling with excitement at the idea of physically holding today’s shoot in your hands. Though the hesitation creeps at you, as if something stops you from letting that excitement flow out. “I don’t know, Taehyung…” You mumble, a toothy smile on your face even though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m gonna have to take that map home with me, and I’m gonna stare at those pictures for hours. It’ll drive me insane.”

Taehyung quirks a brow. “That’s the point.”

“Yeah, I know,” you murmur quietly, and Taehyung is unable to pry his eyes off you, the grin from before now fading off and replaced with a concerned frown. “I know that’s the point. It’s just that... I don’t know. I’m going to want more.”

It takes a second before your words work through but the grin eventually works its way back onto his lips. Wide and closed-lipped with big effort, Taehyung fights hard to hold his toothy smile back, biting at his bottom lip to prevent it from happening. It’s cute how the little confession slips off your tongue and you’re so scared to see what the outcome could be. Taehyung shuffles at his seat at the corner of the table, shoulders relaxing. ‘‘I’ll give you more.’’ He says, and suddenly his cheeky demeanor is gone, looking at you like he’s closing down a deal.

You press your lips together but he can see the way you’re trying to hold your laughter back. ‘‘Taehyung, be serious.’’

‘‘I’m serious, ___.’’ He says, and it’s like he pronounces your name in slow motion. His pink lips pout a little as if he’s deep in thoughts, head tilting while your eyes lock. ‘‘I don’t see why not? You haven’t been on the job for years, the pictures obviously show that it comes to you like second nature… we’re a great team too, can’t deny that one.’’ He smiles charmingly, and it now results in you biting your bottom lips to prevent the cheeky smile from reappearing. ‘‘So, yes. I’d give you more if that’s what you wanted.’’

‘‘This is insane.’’ You nearly whisper, head shaking. ‘‘I mean, this is crazy, Taehyung. I’m not a model anymore. I can't just pick up where I left off, it’s been literal years and I probably just shouldn’t even think about it.’’

His shoulder leans into you, watching you ramble from beneath his black curls like he sees right through you. ‘‘Because of your marriage?” He asks, eyes shifting downward before he meets yours again and you’re uncertain where exactly they shifted towards, but it might be better if you don’t know.

You chuckle lightly, not expecting him to be so straightforward. ‘‘I mean, sure. Jungkook’s my husband, he has some say about any of this.’’

‘‘Sure he does. But here’s a problem,’’ he says, a pointy finger in the air before it drops back to his lap. ‘‘You’re scared he won’t understand the purpose of it. Scared that he won’t be supporting you in all the ways you’ll need him. Right? Considering your husband is… sort of a prick. More or less.’’

You send him a scolding glare, one that’s not too hard on him looking at how you sketched Jungkook out to be that way in Taehyung’s eyes. ‘‘Tae,’’ you say quietly, ‘‘I know I mentioned some things about Jungkook back at the event, but really, he isn’t a jerk. Not a prick, or any of that sort. That’s only okay for me to say.’’ You add the lighthearted joke to keep the good atmosphere in the room. After all, you don’t blame him for thinking of Jungkook as a bad guy.

‘‘I get it, I’m overstepping my boundaries here.’’ He holds his hands up in the air, admitting defeat with that charming smile on his face. ‘‘But I’m just saying, ___. Relationships are important–marriage is important. But here’s the thing about you,’’ he pauses, voice lowering. ‘‘You have talent, undeniably so. I’ve captured it all today. And I truly believe that sometimes, you have to pursue your passions regardless of the risks. Regardless of anyone else if this is what feels right to you.’’ Taehyung holds his hands to his chest like he’s speaking from the heart and it makes you nervous how he says all these things like it’s so easy. So effortless to see the man you spend the last six years with as a risk.

Truth is, yes: Kim Taehyung sees right through you. He is right all along and you wouldn’t know how Jungkook would respond to making this whole ordeal a regular thing. Hell, you don’t even know how you’re supposed to react to it. With how shaky your relationship has become as of lately, how each one of your problems have circulated back to Jungkook’s office job some way or another, it’s hard to tell if the opportunity Taehyung offers you would truly work in your favor.

You take a deep breath, contemplating Taehyung’s words and the weight of them. The room falls into a brief silence though it isn’t pressuring, not trying to suffocate you for once. It’s not that you doubt the talent or passion that lingers within you, but you wonder if it’s worth anything if it means it would only dig your relationship deeper in the ground, especially when you and Jungkook are already trying so hard to climb out of that hole.  

‘‘It’s not something you have to figure out right now.’’ Taehyung shrugs, a reassuring smile at his lips when he catches him losing you. ‘‘I just want you to know you can always give me a call. I’d be down for anything going forward, ___.’’

You can hear the hope in Taehyung’s voice and you wonder why he tries so hard to make you understand. You appreciate it, though you wonder. You just figure he’s a good guy with a good heart.

‘‘You know, you can print those photos out.’’ You say, back straightening as you catch how it throws the guy off guard a bit, his brows rising. ‘‘I had these crazy ideas for the cover of my portfolio, anyway. Might as well put them to good use and take it home with me.’’

You even surprise yourself as the words spill from your lips, though you have no intention to take them back. You suppose this is what you want. Otherwise you wouldn’t have said it. Taehyung’s eyes almost seem to lighten up. ‘‘I knew you were a smart one.’’

And that’s how you’re ushering Taehyung towards the printer in the corner of his minimal studio before he can make any more smart comments. He reassures you some more time, sensing your absence as silence falls over you once more, insecurities still nagging at you even when you convince yourself this small step could lead to something good. Something bigger. At one point, it’s just the sound of the printer rapidly inking the paper as the both of you stand there on the side in silence. It’s not an uncomfortable feeling. But you’d say it’s rather an unfamiliar one. Taehyung never does anything to make you feel like a fish out of the water, he makes sure of it and you’re grateful for that.

Joy swells at your chest, leading to butterflies filling up your lower belly. Not because of Taehyung; even as you see right through his charming looks or flirtatious brown eyes, but because he saw something in you that night of the event that made a spark of inspiration flow. Thinking back at how easy it’s been with him, how you haven’t even met the man a week ago and how you’re now here, in his studio working on things you once called passion for—it drives you crazy.

‘‘You know what? We should celebrate,” he calls and the sound of his voice throws you off guard. “With some wine, I mean. You like red?’’

And that’s how you and Taehyung end up popping a bottle of Riunite Lambrusco in the middle of his studio. The curly haired man says he always has some sort of beverage stored in the back in case of celebration, and you believe him. His character is like a breath of fresh air. He goes with the flow, you can tell, that being all you’ve been doing in the past days you introduced yourselves to one another. One hand dug deep in the pocket of his voguish trousers and the next thing you know, you’ve finished up a shoot and are setting up your portfolio together.

You like Taehyung.

You’ve come to the conclusion that you do.

Conversation flows well, even after only a couple sips of the wine he poured you. Conversation has been flowing well since the start of today’s shoot, but now that you get to sit down, look him in the eye and get to know him better, you can tell you’ve got that chemistry. The air in Taehyung’s studio feels lighter, almost ethereal, as you sit comfortably at the foldable, rusted party table and squeaky chairs he pulled from the back. Only after apologizing a handful of times, his nearly empty studio only holding onto lightning and his required equipment as you sit in the middle of it. It’s not his day to day workplace, he told you, though you keep telling him there’s something to it. The minimal yet intimate air lingers and it makes you feel good on the inside.

There’s an effortless ease to your interactions, you’re not sure what it is that he does, but he does it. Taehyung’s laughter resonates in the room, infectious and sincere whenever he talks. You find yourself opening up to him, discussing your ambitions, as well as your fears. There’s a certain comfort in his presence, as if he intuitively grasps the struggles you’ve been facing and offers you a safe space to let it out.  

‘‘This is one of my favorites,’’ Taehyung leans back in his chair, one leg over the other as he brings his glass back to his lips. Your portfolio is sprawled out over the entire surface of the tiny table, resulting in you to lean over with your own glass in one hand. You follow his gaze, falling on the picture of you that’s taken from an upper angle, open palms directed to the camera and glued to your cheeks. ‘‘This one makes it seem like you never quit modeling–it’s probably something in the eyes. They’re captivating.’’

You feel your cheeks heat up as you peer at the photograph. It’s true, the image captures a certain intensity in your eyes, a spark that evokes passion. It reminds you of the days where modeling was your world, where it was your only ambition and when you were fully immersed.

‘‘I mean it.’’ He says when he notices the curl of your lips, unknown what to do or say next. ‘‘You’ve got the kind of eyes that would draw anyone in, don’t you know?’’ He enjoys seeing you so flustered, enjoys seeing how you turn in somebody new, so different from the woman he first got to know at the event. He almost feels proud for bringing this side out of you.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, Taehyung’s compliment leaving a cute flutter in your chest. You glance at the photo again, studying the intensity in your eyes like he described. ‘‘Thank you, Taehyung.’’ You reply sincerely, ‘‘I guess all of this is still kind of surreal to me. Didn’t think I’d find myself in a studio ever again, you know? It’s kind of a big deal to me.’’

‘‘I get that.’’ He says slowly, and you swear his voice drops a few octaves because of it. Leaning over the tiny table with folded arms, wine glass before you. Your eyes lock and neither of you care to say anything for another moment.

The afternoon carries on and shifts into an evening where the sun has already set before you can comprehend it. Taehyung’s squeaky party chair leaves an uncomfortable sting at your ass but you don’t mind, barely notice the feel when the nearly empty wine bottle sits there to stare at you both. A little liquid layer of red wine left over and waiting for you to finish as you hang onto Taehyung’s every word. Hang onto his tongue as he speaks of his experiences within the industry, speaks of everything you’ve been missing out on the past few years. You feel like that girl in highschool again, reading through Vogue magazines in between classes and cutting your favorite models out to stick it on to your moodboard when you were supposed to work on your homework.

Yes, you look up to Taehyung. It was inevitable from the beginning. You believe so, because Kim Taehyung’s the only connection you have right now who dives right back to that world. That world you’ve been dreaming of for so long and once made true. And not only that, but he was also the first person in a long time who saw you for anybody else than the wife of. Say you’re being dramatic, but it’s no more than the truth. Taehyung gave you an opportunity within the first ten minutes of truly knowing who you were. It says something about him. Something good that makes you feel like you can handle a lot more than you think.

You at 9.38 PM | Hi, I had a lil wine and I’m jus a little tipsy, but I probably shouldn’t be driving

You at 9.40 PM | do you think you can come over and pick me up?

Read at 9:40 PM.

You lay your phone flat on the table as you lean back into your seat with a loud huff. Copying you, his head tilts slightly. “I could just drive you home, you know that right? No need for him to drive all the way over here.”

“There’s that, but you’ve already done so much for me today.” You shake your head, a smile tugging at the edges of your lips. “Really, there’s nothing you could do right now that would make me any happier.”

It’s true. Kim Taehyung made you the happiest woman alive today. 

It doesn’t take very long before you hear the shut of a car door right outside, followed by impatient knocks at the front.

“The one and only.” Taehyung murmurs with a teasing smile your way, lazily getting up from his seat before he moves to the door.

The door flies wide open and revealed behind it is your husband, hands at both his hips as his dress shirt stretches across his chest at the movement. He leans his weight onto one leg, analyzing the man before him. “Right here, sir,” Taehyung comes to stand beside him, stepping outside and pointing to something that’s out of your view. “I’ve got a doorbell. For future references.”

You catch the playful smile that’s tugging onto the corners of Taehyung’s lips and so does Jungkook. “Thanks,” he mumbles quietly as he steps inside the small studio, fast to catch your eye from your seat at the table. “But I’m just here to pick up my wife.”

Jungkook’s steps sound heavy in the nearly empty space, leather designer shoes tapping against the flooring with a slight echo at each stride. He ends up in front of you by the table but doesn’t say anything, though you see his lips are pursed and cheeks are sucked in. Hands hiding in the pockets of his dress pants, you notice how his aura comes with a change of atmosphere. Let that be his body language, the strict look on his face, or maybe even the way you react to his presence—you know the change didn’t just come falling out of the sky.

You snap out of it when Taehyung closes the door behind him with a soft thud, followed by awkward silence. Your chair screeching against the floor comes next. “Taehyung,” you move around the table, coming to stand next to your husband and locking arms. “This is my husband, Jungkook.” The man on your side doesn’t care to return your touch. No arm at the small of your back, barely another look your way when he’d rather look anywhere else with pulled brows. “Jungkook, this is Taehyung. The photographer I told you about. He’s been doing such an amazing job at running today’s shoot.”

Being the bigger person in the room, Taehyung steps in to stretch out a hand, back curving slightly. “It’s good to meet you, I’ve only heard so much.”

Jungkook only provides him a nod of acknowledgment with each childish nerve that still runs through his body, ignoring eye contact like he’s still sixteen and his mama taught him no manners. You watch as Taehyung’s hand dissolves into a loose fist and falls to his side in defeat, you send him an apologetic smile to make up for it but he brushes it aside with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Alright, I guess we should leave.” You break through the ice, hand falling at your side as you roam around to search for your bag. You reach for the curly haired man once everything’s settled, and even though Jungkook didn’t care enough to return your touch before, you catch him tonguing his cheek when you reach out for Taehyung. “Thanks again. Really, I had a blast.”

“No more than I did.” He gives you his signature smile, the one that would leave many weak in the knees.

You bid your goodbyes, telling each other to get home safely as Jungkook watches from the side. You hug Taehyung tightly before you leave, an embrace where your arms are secured around his neck and his hands appropriately rest at your back.

It’s when you and Jungkook step out when you halt in the middle of the doorway, your portfolio that was secured beneath your arm now pushed into his chest. “Oh, Taehyung!” You turn around, hair sweeping against Jungkook with the sharp turn you take. Taehyung watches you with curious, slightly widened eyes. “Is it okay for me to give you a call later this week? I’d really love to repeat what we did today some time soon.”

His features relax, familiar grin returning. “You can always give me a call.” He smiles cutely. “Hit my line, I’ll have time for you, ___.”

Insecurity is not something Jungkook has had to worry about in the past, and certainly not now. Not when it came to you, not when you were entirely his, and he was entirely yours without any second thoughts. And he still trusts you completely, trust isn’t the issue. Insecurities aren’t the issue, either. And maybe, Kim fucking Taehyung isn’t what bothers him. Maybe it’s the way you seem to admire him, remembering that twinkle in your eyes from a long time ago. Remembering that smile you rarely save for Jungkook to see these days.

So, yes. Jungkook feels a weird tingle in the pit of his stomach like he’s being teased. Like it’s your first month of dating and he’s back in college again. Standing on the side like this, waiting for you to finish the conversation, the bitterness can only creep up on him at this point.

Your photographer just had to look like an underwear model.

The drive back home is worse than when Jungkook came to pick you up. He isn’t saying a word and neither are you, but he seems to be the only one bothered by it. With one hand at the steering wheel, he catches a glance at you on his side. Your nose digs into the map Taehyung gave you to bring home and your focus holds so much, you don’t even notice him staring. He can’t see much of what’s on the inside, not with the sun that has already set and the darkness that has consumed his sight.

Once you arrive home, Jungkook makes a beeline to the bedroom and you don’t put in much effort to run after the man. You store the portfolio someplace safe, where you’re sure nothing could spill or damage it in any way. It’s undeniable how today’s events made you feel like an absolute doll. Maybe it’s the after effects, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re running your entire skincare routine with droplets of water from your shower still dripping from your wet hair. It doesn’t really matter. You’ve been feeling like a pretty girl all day and you want to continue feeling that way.

It’s evident in the way you choose to wear the prettiest slip dress you can find hanging in your closet, the satin material cutting off just beneath the swell of your ass. It’s a piece Jungkook bought you a while ago during one of his first trips away, coming home with a Dior bow wrapped around the luxury packaging and a boyish smile dragging up the edges of his lips. It’s been his favorite ever since. Always loved how the fabric hugged your every curve, the way your nipples seemed to pinch right through. The way his eyes were unable to rip his gaze off you.

It’s when you enter the bedroom as Jungkook’s broad back meets you, seated at the edge of the queen sized bed with his elbows resting atop his thighs. He doesn’t bat an eye as he feels the bed dip behind him. Your knees dig into the fluffed sheets as you reach closer, heaving a loud sigh like you’re calling out for him.

“You don’t like him, do you?” you hum sweetly, pausing when your front is pressed against his back, heat radiating between you. It’s obvious who you’re referring to, hands travel at his both sides before you embrace him from beneath his arms. “Taehyung is a talented guy, don’t be so hard on him.” You chuckle at his ear, leaving a single, soft peck at his cheek. “Maybe you should flip through the portfolio we put together. You’ll really see him in a different light then, trust me.”

Manicured fingers fumble around until they reach the lowest button of his blouse. Starting from the bottom, you undo it, and you can hear the subtle sigh coming from his nose, jaw set tight as his teeth grind together. You press a trail of wet kisses to his warm skin rather than commenting on it, right below his earlobe reaching lower towards the sweet spots in his velvety neck, nails teasing at his stomach as you continue to unbutton his shirt. Jungkook is holding back, you can tell by the way his head tilts your way and eyes close at the feel of your lips buried deep in his neck, tits pressing at his backside as your hands are all over him, eagerly fumbling with his shirt–not giving into your touch. Not yet.

‘‘You’re still in your work clothes,’’ you hum in his neck, as if it isn’t already obvious. His dress pants tighten around his thick thighs each time he sits down and it’s your favorite thing in the world, the outline of his hardening crotch a little more visible with each gentle nip of your teeth against his skin.

“Yeah,” he sighs. ‘’Just in case my tipsy wife couldn’t drive her way back home again and I’d end up changing clothes anyway,’’ Jungkook simply says, even if the bitter edge to his statement doesn’t go missed by you.

You chuckle cutely, the sweet sound roaming at his ear. Is that why he’s upset? ‘‘Okay, alright.’’ You breathe lightly, sliding the light fabric of his shirt off his broad shoulders, his hot and inked almond skin on full display when you settle for less, throwing the piece to the side. Playful pecks follow at his shoulder blade, tender and deliberate. You trail your fingers lightly along the curves of his muscular back until you decide you had enough, rounding him until you straddle him, both legs on his either side. Cupping his face, you make him lock eyes. ‘‘I’m sorry for the late night drive. I probably shouldn’t have drunk as much as I did,’’ you confess softly, voice laced with a hint of mischief, hips carefully beginning to roll against his. ‘‘But I promise to behave next time, okay?’’

With his face cupped in your hands, you press your lips against his to pull him in a longing kiss, lingering a little longer than usual. You can tell he’s tired, that he doesn’t have much energy left over to deal with you, though your lips dance in unison anyway. Sweetly sucking onto your bottom lip like he’s hungry and you’re a free buffet. You watch as you detach from him, his eyes fluttering open after. “You’re in a good mood.” Jungkook hums with heavy lidded eyes on yours.

‘‘That’s because I had a good day.’’ You sing gently. Your wide, toothy smile would usually be one thing that he believes could halt anyone in their tracks. Though he beats you to it as you reach for another peck at the lips.

‘‘Hm, yeah?’’ He asks, head tilting. And even though his thumbs start caressing sweet circles at your exposed thigh, disappearing beneath the rich satin of your nightdress, all you can focus on is the tight line of his lips. The slight pinch between his brows. ‘‘My day was less fun, baby.’’

Your playful demeanor shifts at the seriousness of his tone, the straight face he gives you as he examines your every move unable to go unnoticed by you. It’s not like you’ve forgotten about the argument you had earlier today. It’s just that you’ve been in a position where you came as a second option to him all the time, so when the roles were reversed this morning, you didn’t have it in you to feel bad. Still, with a sympathetic expression, you lean in closer, a gentle whisper against his lips. ‘‘You want to tell me about it?’’ you ask, fully prepared to hear about all the ways he felt when you left the house like you haven’t been through it yourself.

He keeps his eyes on you for a minute longer and you can’t seem to figure out what is going through his head. Neither of you say anything and he keeps you in the dark for a moment, staring at you with those heavy lidded eyes that don’t bring you much further. “I’d drive around town to pick you up in the middle of the night, ___. You could call me at 3 in the fucking morning and I’d be there without another word.” Jungkook’s fingers tighten at your hips, gaze flickering to your lips. His voice is stern, like he’s preaching. You merely stare back at him with those big eyes of yours, like you wouldn’t have an idea where he’s going with this. “Late night drives don’t bother me at all.”

“Okay,” you pause carefully, head tilting to indicate you’re listening. “Then what does?” Two hands go through his black locks, pushing the hair out of his face as you begin to massage his scalp. The feel of your nails against his scalp is always so reassuring to him, even though not a hint of reassurance paints his face right now.

His lips press together. Why does he have to chew it out for you? You can’t seem to figure it out yourself and Jungkook’s patience is running on thin ice. It’s not a combination either of you like to see. “Don’t you know it’s inappropriate to keep employees on the job so long after business hours? It’s unprofessional, ___.” He drops the bomb, causing the fingers that are running through his hair to slow down. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d be home late?”

You can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I wasn’t working, Jungkook.” You laugh, though his mood doesn’t lighten up. “Taehyung and I were celebrating–it’s my first modeling job in years. We kind of had to.”

“With wine?”

You halt at the shift in his tone, at his voice that’s laced with accusation. The single brow that arches up his forehead as if he’s searching for a reason to be angry, to find fault in your actions. ‘‘Yes, with wine,’’ you reply, maintaining your composure. ‘‘What’s the issue? You drink wine with your colleagues all the time.’’

The air in the room becomes tense as he continues to scrutinize you, eyes burning with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. ‘‘At social gatherings, yes. Not one-on-one in a room the size of my kitchen cabinet, ___, come on. What are you even on?’’

‘‘What am I on?’’ You repeat and pull away from him, back straightening as your hands fall to your lap. ‘‘Jungkook, I'm not on anything. I don’t know what you’re insinuating but I was simply celebrating a milestone with a very professional guy. You do that all the time. Is that so wrong when I do it?’’

His gaze remains fixed on you, his expression hardened. ‘‘It’s not about right or wrong,’’ he retorts, his voice sharper than it has been all night. ‘‘I’m just saying this guy is not your colleague, he’s not your coworker. He’s just some guy you met a couple days ago. I would have appreciated it if you had considered our relationship before indulging in a late-night celebration with another man.’’

Your eyes widen at his words, blood starting to boil when you cross your arms, jaw locked tightly. ‘‘Either you’re being very jealous and fucking possessive right now, or you’re making me feel like you don’t trust me.’’ You say, tone firm. ‘‘And it better not be the latter, Jungkook. Because we’ve been together for way too long to be worrying about this type of shit.’’

You watch him with anticipation but he doesn’t give you an answer right away. Just stares at you with those stern, dark eyes and raises a single eyebrow like you’ll have to figure it out yourself. ‘‘Oh my God,’’ you mumble in disbelief, flying off his lap and ripping his touch off you.

‘‘It’s not you I don’t trust,’’ he heaves a sigh, arms resting atop his knees as his hands intertwine. ‘‘I trust you, I always have trusted you. But him? I don’t know that guy, ___.’’ He points at the door with a flat hand. ‘‘And I’m not an insecure guy, you know that. I got nothing against him, but when you chose that guy to go to earlier this morning even after I told you I was ready to sit down and talk things through, then yes, it hurt my fucking pride. You just turned your back on me.’’

His words hang in the air as you stand there, his frustration and vulnerability obvious. ‘‘I’ve been in a position where I came as a second option to you before. Multiple times, Jungkook, don’t you forget that.’’ You scold him, keeping your voice calm. ‘‘You’re always scheduling meetings, saying yes to promotions and extra hours. Taking on additional responsibilities when you know our relationship can’t afford it right now… I’ve been ready to fix us for a long time, and I’d be the first one in line to give us all the closure we’re reaching out for.’’

You hover over him with the way he’s still seated, continuing. ‘‘But I’m not a puppet. You can’t just pull me out of the closet whenever it comes in handy, and you suddenly feel like talking things out. Like, you leave for that trip in four days and you feel like now is the time to talk things through?’’

He pauses, not uttering a single word for what feels like an eternity. His palms rub together like he’s in deep thought. And for a moment, you imagine what it would be like if your words finally seemed to work through, if they finally made an impact on him. You give him the time to process in silence, watching over him like a hawk, crossed arms over your chest.

‘‘Are you still going to see him while I’m away?’’ He finally asks, voice barely audible. His gaze fixates on a certain spot in the room, avoiding direct eye contact with you.

‘‘I don’t know, probably.’’ You huff, arms falling to your sides and losing all the hope you gathered before. ‘‘Are we still talking about Taehyung? I don’t see how this is relevant to the conversation we’re having.’’

‘‘It’s important to me,’’ Jungkook asserts, standing up from his seat and sauntering up to you with deliberate, measured steps. He takes you by the hand, guiding you a few steps further into the bedroom until you both stand in front of the full-length mirror leaning against the wall. He places his hands on your hips and continues to wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. ‘‘I need to know your answer before I give you your gift.’’

You blink slowly. A sense of weariness washes over you. ‘‘My what?’’

Jungkook holds you tightly, his front glued to your back like you’ll shrug him off anytime soon. His chest holds onto the same warmth it always has, radiating it to you and you’re instantly warming up at the feel. ‘‘You smell so good,’’ he digs his nose into a sweet spot at your neck, ignoring your confused state when he sniffs at your skin. Vanilla sugar scrub. The one he included in your valentine’s gift only a few years back, before you had gotten married. You had told him you loved it back then. And at first he thought you said it just to say it, up until the moment you started to swim in vanilla, only lasting a week or two with the product. Your brand new, shared bathroom permanently smelling like sweet vanilla and sugar, smelling like you.

You asked him where he bought it, but he wouldn’t tell. Don’t be such a guy, you told him. You had enough time in the world to run to the store and get it yourself. But he wouldn’t budge. Jungkook wanted to be the one to keep buying it for you. He wanted to be your guy; the one who bought you your vanilla sugar body scrub. And he has done it ever since he promised himself to become that guy. The one who made sure there’s a refilled bottle at your bathroom counter every month.

Jungkook places a sweet kiss on your collarbone. ‘‘It’d make me feel so good to have you on the trip, in my suite… smelling like this.’’ He says softly, veiny hands traveling over the thin, silky material of your dress until they get to slip underneath. Drawing gentle circles over your skin as you can only see the top of his head through the mirror with the way he buries his face in your neck. ‘‘I would be exhausted after working all day, but it’d be worth it. Don’t you think?’’

‘‘Jungkook…’’ He doesn’t give you much time to continue when his lips press against your skin. Wet, loud and lewd pecks left in an unfamiliar pattern down your neck.

Jungkook hums in the crook of your neck. ‘‘Maybe a change in environment would do us good.’’ His fingertips tickle you when they continue to feel you up, curling around the thin lace of your thong as he tugs at it. You’re unable to prevent the sweet gasp from coming out when it moves between your ass cheeks. “We’d get to be away from the house for a little while. To take all the time in the world to make up, to make sure we’re okay and ready to move on.”

You don’t stop him when his fingers carefully dip beneath the lace of your underwear, and you’re sure your brain has altered you from pushing him away. Altered you from standing your ground with two firm feet planted to the ground. Instead, you melt into him with the back of your own head prompted to his shoulder this time, bare neck on full display for him. You feel your knees getting weaker when he presses two fingers to your sensitive bud with a bit more pressure than you’re used to, his other hand holding onto you tightly to keep you standing.

It usually starts like this. One moment you’re arguing with him, pouring your heart out and laying yourself bare before him, and the next, you fall into him, forgetting what you were about to say next as you reach out for a breath of air. It doesn’t take long before you’re completely losing yourself in his arms, against his chest, two of his inked fingers dipping into your heat even as your walls begin to tighten around them. You don’t stop him, you love each drag of his thick fingers in your cunt as you stand on your tippy toes, tightly holding onto him at the nape of his neck while he fingerfucks you into another world. Jungkook sneaks a glance at you through the mirror every now and then. Once now, twice when he can feel his dick erect in his pants at the sight of your pinched eyes, your heavy breaths and your hardened nipples through your dress.

Jungkook brings you out to the bed when you nearly tip over without the heels of your feet supporting your weight. He lays you down carefully like you’re fragile, like you’ll break down any minute. Spreading your legs with your panties shoved to the side, he curses to himself when he laps at your sweet juices, coating his tongue as he sucks it up without a complaint as your fingers curl in his hair and back arches off the mattress. Pride is what he feels. Pride is what he feels when you tell him he’s wearing too much, when you tell him he could lose some and you wouldn’t mind. He does as you desire, taking off his dress pants as well as his already stained boxers to reveal the hard-on he’s been hiding. Red and swollen dick that’s so erect, it bounces back to his stomach. He watches as you eye fuck him, as your mouth waters only at the sight. At the ideas that swim through your head. It’s a tit for a tat, he tells you. A give and a take. You want him just as much as he wants you. It’s only fair you both get what you want.

It’s when you disregard your flimsy dress over the top of your head, tits bouncing back and hair splayed out over the bed when he feels like he starts to lose control. Fisting his cock in your warm, slick hand in between your bodies, you pump him up and down as he reaches for another kiss that leaves you breathless beneath him. He doesn’t mind you gasping for air every now and then, enjoying the feel of your chest rising up and down against his own. Hips thrust into your hand when your grip becomes a little tighter, a little more precise and a little more skilled, thumb reaching to tease at his tip. But he stops himself before he shoots his load right onto your stomach. If he’s coming anywhere tonight, it’s going to be inside you.

You know that’s exactly what he wants when you get to all fours for him. Knees digging into the made sheets, your face buried in the soft satin with your ass high up in the air just the way he likes. Jungkook’s hands are at your hips without hesitation, gripping onto your hips as he lines up to your sweet cunt. The first stroke is the one most careful. Even after being together for a total of 7 years, each and every time, you need some time getting used to his size. It doesn’t matter, whatever feels best for you, is what he has said from the beginning. After all, it’s all worth it when he gets to pound deep into you mere minutes later, skin slapping against skin as he watches your ass cheeks bounce back and forth.

He can’t take it. He needs to see all of you from each angle available. You’re not surprised when he gently tugs you up by the arm, though you nearly melt into him again and all your weight shifts onto him to carry back to the full length mirror leaned up against the wall. He pumps into your pussy there, making you watch as you get fucked from behind with a hand wrapped around your throat and an arm hunched around your waist to keep you glued to him. Your heavy breaths melt together the faster his pace increases, hitting your sweet spot with every pound of his hips into yours, with dirty thoughts slipping his tongue, with every drag of his cock into your dripping cunt while he consumes each plea coming from your lips. Begging him to fuck you until you lose it. Begging him to feel his cum inside you as you feel his every inch, feel his everything.

He does as you plead in the end. Jungkook comes undone inside you, your ass pressed against him while pretty whimpers leave your pretty mouth and he ignores his own panting to get the best out of you. His hips stutter when warm spurts of cum fill you up, leaving you like a mess hanging onto him with all the energy you have left over.

But he takes care of you after, like he always does. Jungkook lays you back onto the bed carefully, returning from the bathroom with a damp, warm towel as he cleans you up and hoists you back into your dress and beneath the slick sheets. He pushes your hair out of your face, pushes strands and pieces behind your ear and makes sure the sheets are pulled up to your shoulders. You lay on his side of the bed, eyes heavy lidded and ready to drift off. But he doesn’t mind. You’re exhausted, and for good reason.

‘‘Before you fall asleep, princess,’’ he begins softly, fingers gently brushing at your forehead to push off imaginary strands of hair, watching as your eyes flicker open slowly. ‘‘I need to give you my gift.’’

You had forgotten all about the gift.

Jungkook hovers over you, reaching for the envelope at his nightstand that has your name on it in that awful handwriting of his. He hands it to you and you take the piece of paper in your hands, fiddling with the corners of it as your eyes meet his again. He can’t quite pinpoint what it is that runs through your head, but your brows slightly furrow like you’re afraid to open it up.

‘‘It’s yours.’’ He nudges at your side, fist supporting the weight of his head next to you as he leans in closer. His voice is gentle, almost comforting, as if he wants to ease any worries you’ve been keeping from him.

You open it up, revealing another piece of paper inside of it.

First class passenger’s boarding pass.

He watches you intently, waiting for your reaction with those big eyes. ‘‘So, what do you say?’’ He asks impatiently. ‘‘Are you coming with me on that trip?’’

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[angelsassassin]

All Over Again • Spencer Reid x reader (Prologue)

Spencer Reid was a man of science, but that didn’t stop him from thanking God.

Details: fem! reader wife and mother x father and husband Spencer Reid

AN: Hi Tumblr!! This is my first post, and I am so excited. I absolutely love and adore Spencer Reid, and I know many of you do too. A little warning, this isn’t a standalone. It can be read as one, but this is essentially a prologue to a little series I want to do. The series will basically follow reader and Spencer through their lives; from when they first meet, to when they start to build their relationship, to arguments, when Spencer goes to prison (wink wink), and how they deal with that.

Caution: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. This series is meant for 18+ ONLY!

Warnings; smut (I sincerely apologise if it is not the best), breeding kink, Spencer being a dad (AH), fluff (so much fluff).

I really hope you guys enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it. If there are any questions about this series, let me know.

Spencer Reid was a man of science; the thought that people could believe in a higher being and even pray to them had always baffled the man. He had met many people that believed in God or some other version of him, and yet he himself could never bring himself to believe. 

And yet, when he met you almost twenty years ago, he started to believe that maybe there was a higher power, one that led him to you. Every day since he had known you, he found himself thanking God or whoever was listening to him for you. 

That increased tenfold after he came back from prison. It was hard for him, not only because he knew he was innocent and being punished for something he didn’t - and realistically could never do - but also because he was away from you. After he came back, he changed; he was a little more broken than he was before, but it pushed him to become stronger, more confident and more protective of what he had. 

That’s why almost a year after his conviction, he proposed to you. You, of course, accepted, wanted nothing more than to be with him for the rest of your life, and in classic David Rossi fashion, once he heard the news of your engagement, he planned the wedding at his mansion, marrying the two of you not even a month after your engagement. 

A few months down the line, you discovered you were pregnant, and Spencer was over the moon; he had wanted to be a father since way before he even met you, and that need for a family only increased once the two of you established a relationship. 

Now, almost ten years later, you were living in bliss. Your son, Oliver, was the light of your life, and Spencer’s. After Spencer discovered you were pregnant, he took a step back from the BAU, deciding that no matter how much he loved his job, he loved you and your unborn child more, and he wanted to be there for all the moments, which is why he became a full time professor at the FBI academy, only helping his team out when he was absolutely needed, and never travelling along with them for cases. 

You had just gotten home from work, setting down your belongings when the smell of food entered your sinuses. “Spence?” You called out. You heard a quiet ‘in here’ coming from the kitchen, so you made your way over, discovering Spencer making dinner. “Hey, baby.” You smiled as you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around him. 

“Hey, angel. How was work?” He asked as he turned his head, placing a kiss onto your head. 

“Not too bad. Janice wouldn’t shut up about her vacation.” You say with a laugh as you walk over to the kitchen island, taking a seat. Spencer chuckled and shook his head. 

“Typical.” He replied. “Ollie is upstairs doing some homework, by the way.” He added, and you nodded. 

“I swear that boy loves school more than any other child I’ve ever met.” 

“I was the exact same.” Spencer laughs. “To be fair to him, he did inherit my brain.” You nod in agreement. 

“That he did.” You chuckle. “Hopefully, the next one will inherit something from me.” You smile. Spencer looks over at you with a questioning look. 

“Next one?” He asks, forgetting about the food he was cooking. “I didn’t think you wanted another one.” 

You shrug in response. “I mean, Ollie is getting older now, and I don’t know. I guess I just miss a little baby running around the house. Spencer smirks as he walks over to you. 

“So you want another one?” He asks as he brushes a hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. 

“Do you?”

“Yeah, I do.” He whispered. “Now that I really think about it, I do miss seeing you carrying my child.” He smirked, a look in his eyes, and you knew exactly what it was; lust and possessiveness. You let out a chuckle. 

“You know, in order for that to happen, you have to get me pregnant first.” 

“Oh don’t you worry, angel. I’m going to make sure I fill you up every night until I know for certain it sticks.” 

Before you can reply, you hear the stairs creaking, signalling Oliver was coming downstairs. He comes into the kitchen, and upon seeing you, he smiles. “Mom!” He happily chirps, walking over to you and hugging you. 

“Hey honey, how was school?” You ask him, leaning down and kissing his head, which holds the same head of hair as Spencer’s does. 

“It was okay. Eric and I got to sit in the library during maths.” He spoke gently. The school was very accommodating when it came to your son, knowing he was incredibly smart and whatever they were teaching, he already knew. Most of the time, they’d let him sit in the library and read his books if he felt like he wasn’t being challenged enough. Despite the offer for him to be moved up several grades so that he could be challenged, you and Spencer decided it would be best for him to stay with kids his age for now. 

“Is he finally starting to understand the stuff you’re teaching him?” You ask, knowing that Oliver took great pride in teaching his friend all about maths, considering Eric wasn’t the greatest at it. Oliver simply nodded in response, moving to sit next to his mother. Spencer moved back to the dinner, adding the final touches before announcing it was finished. 

After dinner, the three of you were laying on the couch, watching TV, with you cuddled into Spencer’s side while Oliver had his head on your lap. Spencer’s arm was around you, playing with a few strands of your hair. 

It was almost like routine; after dinner, the three of you would always lay on the couch together, watching whatever mindless TV show was on the news. You had spent the majority of dinner talking about each of your days, so a comfortable silence had taken over you, apart from the few laughs that escaped Oliver as he intently watched the show. 

You looked up at Spencer and smiled. He looked down at you and returned the smile, mouthing ‘I love you’ to you. You leaned up, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss. When you pulled away, you replied to him, mouthing the words back to him. Spencer looked down at his watch. 

“Ollie. It’s almost bedtime, buddy.” He announced. Oliver sat up and looked at his parents.

“Okay. Goodnight, I love you both.” He said tiredly. You and Spencer had always made sure that Oliver would grow up in a house where he would never have to feel ashamed or embarrassed to say the words ‘I love you’ to his parents. 

“Love you too, my beautiful boy.” You say as you move closer to him and kiss his head. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth.” Oliver nodded and began walking upstairs, getting ready for bed. Despite only being nine years old, he was very smart and could perform his nightly and morning routine without any help. 

That left you and Spencer alone on the couch, and Spencer was quickly reminded of your earlier conversation. “So… when should we start trying for another baby?” He asked, the desire he felt clearly evident in his words. 

You let out a chuckle, and moved to lay down opposite him, putting your feet onto his lap. “Whenever you want.” 

A smirk formed on Spencer’s lips and he moved your legs off of him gently, moving to lay on top of you, placing his hands on either side of your head to stabilise himself. 

“How about right now?” He asked as his dipped his head into the crook of your neck, kissing and biting at it. 

“On the couch?” 

“On the couch, on the kitchen counters, on the table, in the shower, in our bed….” He began to list, a gasp leaving your mouth. “I’d do it everywhere if you’d let me.” 

You smiled, remembering how insatiable your husband could get sometimes. It was no secret he absolutely adored you and the family and the life you had built for each other. After everything that he had been through, he couldn’t be more thankful that he was now able to live a happy life, one full of love and laughter. He lifted his head up and rested it against your forehead. 

“We could even do it in the garden if you wanted.” You let out a chuckle at his words. 

“I don’t think our neighbours would like that very much.” You reply, causing him to shrug and smile. 

“I don’t care. As long as my girl is happy and loved and thoroughly pleased, I’d do anything for her.” He says softly. 

“Your wife, Spencer. Not your girl.” You corrected him. 

“Of course. My wife.” He says leaning down to kiss you. It was a kiss full of love and passion, something that despite being together for so long, never left. Every time Spencer kissed you, it was like it was the first time he was kissing you all over again. You never complained, loving the fact that he still gave you butterflies. You moaned into the kiss, immediately causing Spencer to use one of his hands to lift up leg around him. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.” He mumbled against your lips, as his hand began to travel between you two, slowly beginning to unbutton your jeans. 

“Spence… what if… what if Ollie comes downstairs?” You breathe out, suddenly starting to feel your arousal and your need for him overcome all your senses. 

“He won’t.” Spencer groaned, finally achieving his goal of unzipping the jeans and slowly moving his hand under your underwear. As soon as his fingers come into contact with your clit, you let out a gasp. “So fucking wet for me already, angel.” He groans again. He begins to move his finger around your clit, stimulating your nerves to get you more wet. As he does so, you begin to feel his cock pressing into your other leg, begging to be released for his trousers. He slips his finger further down, and pushes it into you. 

You let out a moan, making sure to keep your volume down, but also knowing how much Spencer loved hearing how he made you feel. He added a second finger, and you began to feel the pressure building in your lower stomach. You were so close, and he knew it. He knew your body like he knew all the books he’d read throughout the years; he memorised every moan, every scream of his name, every twice or movement you made when he was giving you pleasure. He knew exactly what to do, and he never grew bored of it. 

Just as you were about to announce your impending release, he removed his fingers, bringing them to mouth and sucking them clean. You let out a deep sigh at the loss of contact. 

“Don’t worry, angel. You’ll come soon. I just want you to come on my dick, not on my fingers.” His words made a shiver run down your spine, and he quickly began to take off your jeans and panties, removing his own trousers and boxers afterwards. You looked down, seeing how painfully hard he was. “Like what you see?” 

“Definitely.” You replied with a smirk. Despite the thousands of times you and Spencer had fucked or made love, you were still always left breathless upon seeing his dick; it was big and girthy, and it fit inside you perfectly, almost like it was specifically made for you. 

Spencer moved back on top of you, settling down between your legs. His hand pumped his dick a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. 

“Tell me what you want.” He demanded, teasing your entrance. 

“You. I want you.” 

“No, you know what I mean, angel. Tell me what you want.” He almost spat. 

You tried to think of what he wanted you to say, and then you remembered why you were in this position in the first place. “I want you to fuck a baby into me.” You sighed, and almost as quick as you finished speaking, Spencer dove into you, groaning at the feeling of being inside you. He placed one of his arms next to yours, leaning onto his elbow for support, while the other hooked underneath your leg, bringing it up so he could move deeper inside. 

His thrusts were slow at first, letting you adjust to him. Because of how big he was, every time you had sex, it would take a little while for you to get used to him again. Once Spencer felt your hand move to his shoulders to dig your fingernails into it, he smirked and began to quicken his pace, fucking you faster and harder. 

You couldn’t help the moans that left your mouth, which only fueled Spencer’s desire for you. “Fuck, angel, you feel so good.” He moaned into your neck, kissing it as he fucked you. 

“Spencer…” You moaned, tangling your fingers into his hair and pulling at it. He let out a groan into your neck, biting down. 

“Fuck, if you do that, I won’t last long.” He breathed out as his thrusts became quicker and harder. 

“Oh god, baby, so close.” You moaned out, too overcome with pleasure to be able to form a coherent sentence. 

“Come for me baby, I’m almost there.” He moaned, and that was all you needed before the pressure in your stomach exploded. You threw your head back in pleasure, covering up your mouth to silence your moans, not wanting to wake up or alarm your son. 

Spencer shuddered at the feeling of you clenching around him. “Gonna let me fill you up, huh, angel? Gonna let me put another baby in you?” 

“Yes, yes, please Spencer, put a baby in me. Fuck a baby into me.” You plead. 

Spencer lets out a groan as his thrusts begin to slow down, losing himself in you as he comes, shooting every last drop of his load into you. He brought you closer to him, and you wrapped your arms around him. He stayed inside of you, not wanting to let any of his cum leak out of you. His breathing was starting to come back to normal, just as yours was too. He lifted himself up just enough to look at you. 

“I love you so much, angel.” He whispers before leaning down and kissing you. You smile into the kiss. 

“I love you so much, baby.” You mumble against his lips. He releases your mouth from his, you letting out a groan and he chuckles. 

“Come on, we need to clean you up and then we need to go to bed.” He says, pulling himself out of you, and you shiver at the loss of him. 

After carrying you upstairs to your en-suite bathroom, cleaning you up and letting you pee, he helped you get into your pyjamas and laid you down on the bed, lifting the covers and getting in next to you, pulling you closer to him. 

“I’ll pick up some pregnancy tests tomorrow on my way home from work.” He whispered against your head, his arms wrapped around you. You nod, looking up at him. 

“It might take a little while for us to actually get pregnant, you know.” You say to him, and he shrugs. 

“It doesn’t matter how long it takes. As long as I get to come home every day to you, fucking you until you can’t walk, I’m happy.” He smirks. 

You let out a chuckle. “You do that anyway.” 

“Yeah, but this time, I’ll be able to come home one day to see you with a belly and our little baby inside.” 

Four Months Later 

Spencer came home from work, a breath of relief leaving him and he closed and locked the door, placing his keys and bag down, heading straight to the kitchen, where he placed the takeaway chinese bag down. The house was quiet. He knew Oliver would still be at school, but his wife technically should be at home, but he couldn’t hear anything. 

“Angel? Are you home?” He shouted, hoping his voice would reach all corners of the house. He listened carefully, and heard a small noise coming from upstairs. His face twisted in confusion as he marched upstairs, searching every room before walking into their shared bedroom. “Are you in here?” 

“Bathroom.” His wife replied, and Spencer finally felt himself relax. He opened the door to the bathroom and saw you sitting on the counter. “Hey.” You smile up at him, opening up your arms. 

Spencer smiled as he moved closer to you, positioning himself between your legs and wrapping his arms around you, just as you did the same. 

“Why are you in here, angel?” He asked against her neck. 

“Well, I actually have something to tell you.” You said, unwrapping your arms around him. Spencer moved back a little, confusion once again taking place on his face. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong, baby.” You smile.

“You woke up this morning feeling sick, angel. When I left this morning, you were in here throwing up, and now that I’ve come home, I find you in here again.” He says, worry evident in his words. 

“Well, about that…” You smirk as you reach behind you, picking something up but hiding it in your hands. “After you left, I started to think… so I went out… and now I know why I felt so sick this morning.” You say as you reveal a pregnancy test in your hands with a smile. 

Spencer’s eyes widen as he looks down, seeing the very clear and obvious plus sign on the test. He looks up at you and grins. “You’re pregnant.” 

You nod happily. “We’re having another baby.” 

Spencer instantly wraps his arms around you, picking you up and leading you into the bedroom, placing you gently down on the bed. “My beautiful angel, my wonderful wife, is giving me another baby.” He chuckles as he moves on top of you, kissing you deeply. 

Spencer was definitely a man of science, but that didn’t stop him from thanking God that night while you were asleep next to him later that night. He thanked God for letting him go through everything he had to go through, because he knew he’d go through all of it over and over again, as long as he knew he’d be here. As long as Spencer was able to spend every day married to you, loving you and your children, he’d do it all over again. 

~

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Love, AA

[georgies-ftts]

my thoughts and opinions on this weeks episode as someone who didn’t have time to watch last weeks episode, has never watched live american telly before and has discovered a new found hatred for your adverts. Also i swear a lot.

let’s begin

(spoilers obviously don’t be a knob)

1. he cannae be captain he’s only got two stripes on his epilette why are we focusing so much on this man

2. Bobby eyeing up that gun I like that (the acting)

3. this guy is giving me uncanny valley and i don’t like it

4. hehe dongle

5. i mean fair enough… in and out just like he said

6. Hen love of my life where the hell have you been loca

7. “and you won’t be anymore either” that’s actually dead funny to me

8. husbands that saw together survive trauma together <3

9. “everyone survived” i know foreshadowing when i see it

10. there’s a lot of drunk driver hatred (as deserved) somethings gonna occurr

11. oh he’s dead… lol karma fuckhead

12. Hen, i love you but why can noone on telly give me actual realistic CPR… break them ribs girl

13. christ these american adverts are weird

14. let me tell you advertising prescription medicine isn’t actually a normal thing to do

15. I don’t know boss man am no a dr but that’s an awful lot of blood are you sure you should still be breathing????

16. “Are you happy” “Yeah, Yeah I am” i have a feeling that’s all about to change buddy

17. just me or can anyone else not see a fucking thing that’s going on this episode why’s everyone in the dark for?

18. moving on from that i love the lighting in the office scene… chefs kiss

19. EXCUSE ME SHE WAS DOING HER JOB, NEXT YOU’LL SUSPEND HER FOR CODLING THE DRUNK DRIVER AND GIVING HIM TEA AND CHEEK KISSES PISS OFFFFF

20. Why do American comm’s systems always fail whenever you actually need them

21. They were axed to pieces. I will let you off -_- this time…

22. “I didn’t shoot him” honestly… same i hope you get yer pay out boss

23. Athena please for the love of god pop a paracetamol or a codeine and chill the fuck out

24. cause it has never been hard enough for them you just had to add a bastard bomb

25. ITS BEEN 5 MINUTES WHY MORE ADVERTS

26. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ADVERTISING TO YOUR CITIZENS

27. The Rookie ad i love it carry on

28. If he wasn’t under the influence then he was just being a cunt and hen had every right to react as such thankyou very much

29. Oh my fuck what is happening - don’t tear them apart i’ll start crying

30. Bitch you’re taking on water stop being a pussy and help

31. “Don’t test me.” Queen, you rag his arse

32. “port stabilisers are gone” surely you should be tilting like a bitch right now or did i miss a frame

33. MORE FUCKING ADVERTS????

34. why’s that lizard from london?

35. WHY ARE YOU ADVERTISING DEMENTIA MEDICATION THAT IS LITERALLY ADVERTISED ALSO AS A DEATH PILL WHAT DO YOU MEAN COMA AND DEATH THATS NOT HELPING

36. “i didn’t save him either” he quite literally refused your help despite being detained

37. didn’t get that SS Menow reference… try the Mayflower next time

38. “Saving the ship” “course she is” GIVE THEM ONE MOMENT OF PEACE PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU

39. okay good they are tilting like a bitch i will shut my mouth

40. NO STOP TILTING LIKE A BITCH I DONT CARE ABOUT REALISM I TAKE IT BACK NO

41. HOW MANY MORE ADVERTS DO YOU NEED

42. i don’t know but all your meds just seem to be doing the opposite of.. you know… keeping you alive.

43. woah therapy flash back get me one of those

44. you forgot to mention imminent death in your therapy session Mr Sir

45. “We did what we had to do” YOU’RE ALLOWED TO LIVE TOO.

46. “I couldn’t save my first family and I can’t save you either” and what if that was my last straw Robert Nash

47. ABC you can tone down the writing now i’m fucking sobbing

48. FUCK YOU AUSTRALIAN MAN I WAS CRYING MY EYES OUT

49. glad the us also have those Haribo ads

50. first time in my almost 20 years of life where i’ve seen an ADVERT for ANTIDEPRESSANTS that also actively make you MORE DEPRESSED

51. Hen i knew you were slaying you’ve never not slayed <3

52. no need for it was there mr boss man? no didn’t think so

53. You have no jurisdiction past the Gulf of Mexico??? ummmm??? distressed cruise ship full of your citizens???? idk??? do something????

54. oh. welp. no surviving that one, have fun with poseidon my loves

55. i don’t know about you but once i’ve been capsized like that in anything bigger than a kayak im giving up…

[flying-elliska]

HS Reunion AU pt. 3/?

Heyyy I know we thrive on pain here ^^ but if you want a break maybe for a minute, here’s some more incredibly wish-fulfill-y fluff. They’re all thriving adults (for the most part), the reunion starts and Daphne has a surprise ! 

SAMEDI 17:44 

The day of the reunion dawns bright and sunny. They’ve just spent a lazy morning in bed, enjoying each other, only getting up after noon. Lucas promised his husband that this time would be for them, so he kept his itching fingers away from any keyboards or screens. Eliott made crepes with melted chocolate, deliciously decadent. They curled up together on their big couch, read, watched a weird documentary about deminer rats, and rearranged their utility closet. Lucas's still surprised about all the things they’d managed to lose in there, including four different brooms, one of Eliott’s best lenses hidden in an empty cereal box (why), a bag of onions that had taken on a life of their own, and an album of honeymoon photos they’d completely forgotten existed, maybe because it was the one where they both sported completely sunburnt noses after going off trail for a week in Nepal and looked like a pair of molting lobsters. 

The reunion is at 18. They will be having dinner in the old foyer, before going to party on a rented boat on the Seine. Lucas parks the car a few blocks away. He really wants them to have a little time to breathe and enjoy the sun before the madness starts.

It's a gorgeous early summer day, with a little breeze deflecting the heat and sunlight glittering on the water. It’s incredibly thrilling still for some reason, walking hand in hand with his husband along the Canal St Martin, this close to their old school.

Eliott can’t stop grinning at him either. He looks like a vision in his tight black turtleneck, camel longcoat swung over his shoulder, hair as wild as ever. His eyes are intense and full on mischievous, in a way that really does something to Lucas’ underbelly feelings. 

“Hey, so...things are heating up between you and that girl Chloe, huh ?” 

Lucas rolls his eyes. Of course he would go there, the asshole. 

“Yeah, she’s incredible. Woman of my life. Might ask her to marry me in the fall. I always wanted a honeymoon in Bali” 

“Bali, hm ? That’s cute. Are you sure she’s the one, though ?”

“Yes absolutely. She ticks all my boxes ! I mean, she’s such a ...female woman !  She even has breasts and everything ! I think. It’s amazing. Everything I need right there.” 

Eliott laughs out loud. Lucas loves that sound more than anything else in the world, and the fact that they can joke easy now about their earlier jealousies and mistakes feels very healing. 

“Love at first sight, then.” 

“Oh you know how it is, girl bumps into boy once, it must be true love.” 

“Stranger things have happened.”

“Are you talking about yourself now ?”

Eliott raises his eyebrows in a way that makes Lucas blush, then stops and pulls him closer, until their noses almost touch.

“I don’t know, do you have any boxes left for me to tick ? Or are you all ticked out ? Are you sure your boxes are being ticked appropriately ?” 

“Oh, okay, we’re playing it like that, dirty talk in the street ? I don’t remember that part.”

“Why don’t we make up for lost time ?”

“Wait, don’t you have an imaginary girlfriend, too ?”

“Nah. I’m not even playing at that.”

“Well then, you can tick my boxes anytime.”

Eliott smiles and wraps his arms around Lucas’ head, drawing him into a passionate kiss, unhurried and slow, that tastes like minty toothpaste and cigarettes. They have all the time in the world. Lucas thinks of his teenage self, who’d yearned for this so fervently even as the idea of holding another man’s hand in the street terrified him, and he kind of wants to do a victory dance on the spot. 

A few seconds or maybe minutes later, someone coughs loudly next to them. History repeats, apparently, but thankfully with better timing. 

“Well, I see you two are still as disgustingly in love as ever.” 

Emma is standing in front of them, an amused expression on her face. She looks good, if a little jet lagged - hair in a pixie cut, tanned, bag slung over her shoulder, looking as carefree and adventurous as ever. Lucas moves to hug her as if they’d last seen each other last week. 

“Glad to see you made it.”

“Daphne would have reached across two entire oceans to kick my ass if I didn’t. And you know, I figured my family might like to see me, accessorily. And you, still can’t get you past the Périphérique, I see ?” 

“That’s a gross overexaggeration. We toured half the world for our honeymoon.” 

“And let me guess, you’ve been shackled to your desks ever since ? Well, at least you’re rocking the “just rose from my coffin” look together.” 

“Oh, sorry, not all of us want to look like Australian beef jerky.”

They fall easily into bickering the rest of the way, insulting each other in a friendly manner. It really is like old times. The place hasn’t changed much, except for a lot more vegetation in the courtyard. Seeing it evokes a tangled knot of complicated feelings in him. They haven’t been back since graduation, really. When they’ve reached the gate, Eliott holds Lucas back for a moment, taking both his hands. Lucas can feel his husband is nervous. 

“You know, say the magic word and we’re out of there in a second, okay ?” 

Eliott leans forward muffles his laugh in Lucas’ collar. 

“How is this worse than Cannes, seriously ?"

"I almost wish there were paparazzi now, as distraction."

"Let's pretend there are and put our game faces on, then."

Eliott laughs again and ruffles through Lucas' hair, who protests but lets him do it. He always does.

From across the courtyard, he sees Manon come toward them. 

She looks better than the last time he saw her, when she was fresh from her breakup with some hotshot war reporter. He loves this woman, truly, that's his sister right there, but god he wishes for her own sake she’d grow out of her taste for passionate, moody assholes. And it's not the first time, nor the last, he feels he will have to help her pick up the pieces. But that's okay. She's always been there in his most difficult times.

And now she's there, standing tall, wrapped in a designer coat, rocking her signature red lipstick even though there are bags under her eyes and he knows this is the look she wears when she's pretending to be okay. He realizes then one of his goals tonight will be to make sure nobody bothers her about her love life. She's an amazingly accomplished woman. That's all anybody needs to know.

Eliott gives her an extra long hug. Those are the best thing in the world, and his husband has always been intuitive about these things. Good.

Together, they move towards the foyer.

Their old haunt is completely gone - the mural, their ratty old couch, all the things they'd painstakingly gathered together. The space has been merged with another room and is twice as large. Then again, it makes it possible to fit in enough tables, which might not have been possible back then. Their old beat down furniture has been cleared to make room for lush greenery and designer sofas, uncannily clean for a high school. It's been lavishly decorated too, with a banner, pastel streamers and golden balloons. In front of the window there is a buffet full of all sorts of drinks, salads and cakes. It's definitely too much for this type of occasion but then again. Daphne. 

When they enter the room, heads turn, and the gazes aimed their way are a bit too curious and insistent for his taste.  Well, they did end up being one of the most dramatic squads in their year, in the end, it was to be expected but...It’d better be admiration for his on-his-way to famous husband, and nothing else, because if he’s grown out of one thing, it’s suffering fools. He feels both Eliott and Manon’s grip on his arms tighten. 

A very enthusiastic Daphne appears out of thin air in front of them, as if on wheels. She looks like she stepped out of the pages of a magazine, baby blue dress, hair carefully plaited with little glass flowers, as peppy as ever. She welcomes them, kisses all of their cheeks and then directs them to their table, where they find little calligraphied tags to their names in the plates, before storming off again.

Their table is already half-full. Arthur is there, in a crisp suit, accompanied by a posh, bored looking brunette. He is pointedly not talking to Basile, sitting next to him. Lucas sighs internally. He'd really hoped that was over. Basile is accompanied by a vaguely bird-faced woman, who is wearing the exact same disastrous color scheme as him, brown and bright green and red. And then there's Imane, looking impeccable in her deep red scarf and elegant black dress, and her husband Yousef, in deep conversation. Finally, to round it off, there's two random people Lucas already feels sorry for.

They all greet each other. It's a little awkward. He's happy seeing Imane and Yousef though. It's been a while, what with their little daughter and Imane's company getting off the ground and his own crazy schedule.

Lucas gets a text from Yann saying he's going to be late. Basile launches into an explanation of his latest crowdfunding project, something about an app and cryptocurrency that barely registers. The room slowly fills up. Arthur talks about his family company's ventures into the South Asian market. Lucas slowly starts feeling like he wants to jump into the Seine. He didn't come here to witness how boring his friends have become and how adulthood is descending on them to make them into pre-mummified copies of their parents. He thinks he'd almost rather go back to hear college age Basile brag about all his conquests in graphic detail. Almost. And he can feel his husband tensing up next to him; he knows how much Eliott hates speaking about his work archievements, that it always feels like bragging to him, that he wants the work to talk for itself.

Thankfully, this is the moment Alexia chooses to make her entrance. Far from toning herself down, she's only become more colorful and boisterous over the years. Hair bubblegum pink, in a dress marked with a giant golden thunderbolt, she makes all heads turn in her direction. Lucas used to think she was a little obnoxious, to be honest, but she's like a breath of fresh air now. She plops into a chair at their table and immediately launches a debate about the worst part of the new foyer and if they could donate another paper toilet rolls sculpture. It's a relief from everyone posturing about their jobs. Although honestly, Alexia's probably the most successful of all of them. He can never wrap his head around what she does exactly, except that it involves millions of online followers, sponsorships in the US, dancing videos with cats and her own shoeline.

Eliott leaves and comes back with drinks for the both of them. They clink their craft beer bottles against each other and Eliott leans down to whisper in his ear :

"Too bad they took away our couch"

Lucas snorts.

"Fuck no, that thing was a health hazard when we were here already, can you imagine after ten years ?"

"I don't know, I mean. It could have been fun to recreate some memories after everyone leaves." Lucas chokes on his beer. If Eliott is trying to distract him, it's surely working.

Across the table he can see Arthur's date look at them with a contemptuous glance on her face. The woman exhudes as much fun as a bag of frozen broccoli. Petty, he plants a sloppy kiss on Eliott's cheek. If they've earned one thing, it's the right to not worry about what people think of their PDA, goddamn.

Daphne arrives at their table and sits down, slightly out of breath.

"Hey guys ! I'm so happy you are all here ! It's been a while, huh ? I have a surprise for everyone later, I hope you will all participate, I'm counting on you !"

For a moment Lucas is terrified she's going to quiz them on their lives or force them into some sort of weird bonding exercise. Then he sees the look on Basile's face and realizes they have worse issues to worry about. F*cking hell, they dated for a few months ten years ago, and he's still looking at her like she hung the moon, and right in front of his girlfriend too. It took him years to get over her, they were gross the first time, and if Basile does something stupid it's going to take the awkwardness levels from slightly unpleasant to excruciating for the rest of the evening.

Then a tall, beautiful woman with dark skin and long tresses comes toward their table, effortlessly elegant in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She puts her hand on Daphne's shoulder.

"Hey babe, sound's all set up."

Daphne blushes up to her ears.

"Hey everyone, uh. This is Sam. She's my work partner and also. Uh. She's going to be my wife."

The table erupts into shouts of congratulations, surprise and joy. Manon hugs Daphne, Basile's expression falls to the floor, and Alexia claps her hands laughing. Lucas isn't surprised, but he is proud. For a long time, Daphne was even deeper in denial than he was. And Sam looks awesome.

Lucas exchanges a smile with his husband. Maybe coming to this reunion was worth it after all.

[mochikeiji]

Exact Replica

Request: "Hi! I really love you're writing and was wondering if you could do prompt 25+29 for Kuroo Tetsuro from Haikyuu? And could it be angst to fluff? (Maybe Kuroo was ignoring the reader due to lots of work/stress so reader feels neglected?) It's totally up to you tho! Ty so much!!"

25. "Would you notice if I was gone?"

29. "I didn't mean it."

↠ Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x F!Reader

↠ Warning: angst to fluff, mentions of pregnancy and kuroo's sad childhood

↬ Word Count: 3.7k

↠ a/n: okay this is my longest one yet. I swear the prompt screams angst to fluff so much that I go into it.

↳ from Go! Go! Gogatsu Event

Kuroo Tetsuro achieved many great things in life after graduating from his university, with multiple acknowledgements and honors. Landed a position as a young CEO from a sports association at the age of 24, he had enough money in his pocket and bank to stable both of you financially. Life was good to him after having to build from the roots  of his ruined childhood; the only years of defeat Kuroo doesn't ever want to repeat. His father and mother were in the same position as you both are; owning your own shared house, good working environment, investments and stability, married.

Up until this day Kuroo questions why his parents split. They were fortunate that they had every thing completed, sadly it was the family and love that wasn't taken care of. You could be the happiest person, yet the void inside would still be there, Kuroo thought. Foolish people were to neglect something more valuable than any object that is given. Whether it was his father or his mother that stopped nurturing what they both bonded for the longest time, they were both fools to let each other go over something simple. He vows to never let history repeat itself.

But now the tables seemed to have flipped for the both of you. Your lives not far from what he had ran away from. If Kuroo could eat his words back, he would've now that he was running late yet again to coming home, forgetting about the promise he swore to about joining you after a full month of being occupied in his office. Coming home to have you already tucked in bed, but suffering in silence.

Most days he didn't bother greeting you in the morning and night. As a good wife, you understand. He was a busy man with an important position to maintain.

There were times where you'd be tapping your foot down on the floor as the clock strikes at an ungodly hour with your messages still not bothered to be replied to or even read. But you understand. He's working! Always doing what he can for the both of you like the good husband he wanted to be.

Even if sometimes he'd come home without a kiss or a simple, "I missed you." you understand. He's drained. No time for silly, endearing affections. You've done them a lot before back when you were younger. You're adults! Married! A married partner shouldn't be feeling so needy when the other was only doing their part.

Even when sometimes your insecurities would kick in whenever you'd visit your husband to drop his forgotten lunch again, only to see him flocked by different women; probably secretaries, interns, and assistance.

You understand. You always did took such good care of what you two have.

Well had.

His home office door slams shut, awakening you from your nap on the couch. Didn't Kuroo notice you when he walked in? Looking at the clock you noticed it was near 11:30 PM since he's arrived. Late again, maybe he hasn't eaten anything? No worries, you thought sadly. Stretching your aching muscles, you made your way to the dining area. So far dinner was left untouched once more. Just how many times has it gone to waste because you continued on cooking for two?

Or rather, three.

You beam at the sudden reminder while preparing your husband's plate. You'd always miss him whenever he'd come home, never had the chance to surprise him at the right time of your little discovery about a week ago. Fear did struck you because of the possible reactions he'd give, but you were so excited in sharing the news that a couple would share the equal happiness from, you couldn't contain it any longer.

Maybe you should've chosen another time unbeknownst to you how your husband was hunched over his desk, clearly in displease of the previous events that had occurred during the meeting back in his office. Hence why his work stack added more piles of predicaments, only fueling his headaches more wishing he could just lay down peace and quiet without disturbance.

He grumbles at the knock on his door, only typing furiously with emphasized taps on the keyboard. You, not sensing the emitting aura from the room took it as a response for you to enter. It surprised you a bit on how disordered his home office had become. It was obvious his coat had been thrown carelessly as it lays on the floor, wrinkled. Carefully placing the plate full of food on the small coffee table at the side, you gingerly picked up the article of clothing. Lightly trying to smoothen out the lines before hanging it behind his door and turning back to your husband.

"Tetsu?" cautiously calling out his name, you were kind of wary at the fact he didn't turn to see you unlike he does before whenever you'd enter the room. "I brought you your dinner. You came home pretty late." you tried to maintain the light hearted tone of your voice to hide how nervous you were in telling him the big news.

The atmosphere was kind of eerie when all he did was hum meekly from your words. Feeling a bit disheartened from his lack of attentiveness, still forcing a smile, you padded a little closer behind him with your hands clasps together. "I also wanted— well needed to tell you something." averting your eyes away from him as you prepared in your head. With a small hope he'd turn around for once after a long time.

"Can it be another time? I'm in the middle of stuff here."

Another time.

Why is it always next time? It's frustrating enough to not see him or have him speak to you even for a moment, but this made your stomach churn in an unpleasant way. Frowning at his poor reply, you gulped a few of your sentence back. Not fully trusting your emotions getting in the way, "You never really talked to me before, Tetsu.. I get that you're busy, but it wouldn't hurt for you to give a little minute for me."

Even just a second as long as he'd finally notice you.

"(Y/n) if you understand then why bother? You can clearly see I'm busy." chest huffing out a harsh sigh, still not bothering to turn around. Gripping your hands tightly, your patience were starting to snap. "You're always busy, Tetsu! I never had a proper conversation with you again." raising the volume of your voice a little made his actions come to a halt. Chair revolving around to face you. His appearance made it obvious how exhausted he has been; tousled hair that he usually takes longer to style, the light forming bags underneath his eyes from the screen and lack of sleep. The visible annoyance marked in his expression. But couldn't he say the same for you?

"Fine. Here, you have my attention now. Are we talking properly now?" his way of provoking you wasn't in the right place. It only made you look at him in disbelief because you've grown to never meet such side of your husband before. The news you had originally planned to share vanished from your head, replaced with the restrained emotions that has been building up inside your heart, tipping over.

"Tetsu, what is wrong with you?" looking at him now seemed like you were talking to someone else. His words were curt and short with no intention of prolonging the conversation, itching to get back to work so he could be done with it. "I already you I'm just busy. I would be done by now if you didn't want to talk properly with me." he says as if he's the one in distraught. "Seriously, nothing's wrong but I think you aren't. You're never like this."

"That's because you never cared to noticed in the first place!" wailing out the collapsed emotions that has weighed you heavily. It was too late to stop yourself from voicing out the things your husband left aside. A full month of being a good, understanding image of a wife thrown away to the rubbles without even appreciating the the long nights of you waiting up for him, cooking meals even though the next day they'd end up being in the trash, tolerating the coldness of the used to be warm sheets, putting up with the insecurities you took upon yourself to hide to avoid troubling your husband further when all you wanted was for him to assure you that he still loves you and only you.

The fascade you put up just for him crumbles. And it infuriates you more of how he still doesn't notice.

"(Y/n), you know I've been working! There's so much stuff that needs to be attended for just so you and I could live normally!"

"Tetsuro, we are stabled, it's okay to slow down a bit. How is this any normal to you when you don't even realize how this affects me?!"

The chair slides back roughly against the floor with a loud creak as he towers over you. Glowering eyes with a dark expression looming over his face, clearly now enraged. "You're being selfish right now. I'm here doing what I can to support us and all you could think of was you, you, you. Can't you see I'm doing this for you as well? God what else do you want from me, the world?"

"I only wanted you to give me your time and attention even just for a second, Tetsuro! I've been doing my best for you all this month and I never said anything to trouble you!"

It hurts when he said how you were being the selfish one when it was the opposite. It dawned to you that all those days of giving your all for him wasn't once noticed. "Will you ever grow up already? Attention? Really? We're adults, (Y/n) not teenagers for fucks sake. My time is just wasted because of you!" he doesn't stop there even if you've had your mouth already shut from how he portrayed you as. His words were beginning to leave a deep scar in you as you quiet down to the next line.

"If you think that nothing is troubling me, there is! And you just happen to add in for crying out loud!"

There were no words exchanged after his meltdown. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looks away from you— who's eyes were already watery. Unable to even tell your side anymore at the ache of your heart. "So..I'm just troubling you then?" quivering out your words, Kuroo clenches his jaw as the bubbling frustration was being held back with the last bit of restrain he had.

"Would you notice if I was gone, Tetsu?"

Instead of being alarmed by your chosen form of sentence, you watched with sad eyes as your husband pulled back his chair and faced his workload. He didn't even noticed you're already crying silently, "Not now, (Y/n). We'll talk later."

He doesn't even noticed how you walked out sobbing with a shattered heart nor the door in the living room closing. Leaving him alone for the next few hours in peace like he wanted.

Time went on quickly when one doesn't take their eyes off from their consecutive workaholic state. With a groan, he almost slams his laptop shut before stretching his bones, slowly relaxing the tense muscles. It's up to his co workers and assistance to deal with the load he's prepared to dump onto them after they threw all theirs to him. Hoping to freshen up his face, Kuroo tidies his desk up before making his way to the door. Stopping in realization of the now cold dinner that was left on the coffee table.

His stomach growled loudly at the lack of food it's digested in the longest run. It was still good if he heats it up, he does miss eating home made meals than his stale ones back in the cafeteria of his workplace. Grabbing the plate carefully he first made a short journey to the kitchen to heat up his food. Unusual it was to have all the lights out in the house. You'd always leave some opened when he was awake. Then again the guilt started to crawl up to his chest knowing he's the cause of why you'd forgotten.

Now entering the bathroom with water running down his face, he plans ahead the apology he owes you when he wakes up tomorrow morning. He could reschedule his own time since he is the boss. He closes the faucet right after he was done rinsing. Looking around for the towel his eyes caught something below the small organizer you put up next to the sink. Grabbing the towel above the first part of the organizer, bending down slowly to avoid getting cramps, his actions were quick to grab the object that caught his attention the moment it seemed so familiar and surprising.

Pregnancy test. Two lines for positive.

Having a child with you was the last thing he's yet to accomplish from his list, and here it was. As much as he wanted to be in denial, it all felt like surge of contentment drowns him in because he was going to be a dad. However his body began to tremble whilst still holding the test and staring intently at it. The previous guilt that was crawling beneath his bones became a dark, desolated hole of anxiety and fear that ate him whole. The things he's said and done will never be taken back no matter how he apologizes to the past events a few hours ago.

Hours ago. It was already 2:25 when the fight had ceased. Deep down he knows he couldn't wait until the next day to plead for forgiveness. After all, he did vow to never leave you both a day feeling heavy alone. Kuroo felt nauseous of how much of an asshole he had treated you. Like starting a game of volleyball once more, he was beyond nervous when he approached your shared bedroom. There was no excuse of his actions indeed as he solemnly enters the dimmed room. He sighs a little shaky when he closes in your bed, "Baby?" he starts, "Baby, are you awake?" it was one of the little things he's memorized that you'd do when you both aren't in good terms. You never really slept, just pretended because you always had the heart to wait up for him.

When he gets no response he reaches out to pat you, only coming to the sense that the sheets were left untouched; no warmth traced behind. You weren't there, any where. His blood runs cold and immediately fishes out for his phone in his pocket, speed dialing your number while he circles the entire area of the house in case you'd be there. Now he was more terrified when he hears the familiar voice mail from the living room couch where you had slept while waiting for him.

You left your phone. His wife wasn't home— his pregnant wife.

"Fuck." running a rough hand through his tangled hair. The lump on his throat grows but he refuses to let out a string of sobs. It was his fault you were gone at such an ungodly hour. Kuroo felt more than a bigger asshole than before he's made you come to the point of leaving home. Just as his mother did and never returned. The one thing he swore you two would never be the same came to life, only thought now is Kuroo doesn't know whether you've left him for good after being a neglectful husband and to have dishearten his own beloved wife like that.

"Would you notice if I was gone?"

Rang in his head as he stood outside the neighborhood, running. Chasing after a hallucinated image of you any place he tried to remember you'd be in. A fool he has been to have left you in a loveless marriage. He loves you, he really does. He can't imagine a life without you in it. Just as it was about to become the happiest he's wanted, he pushed it all too soon. A bad husband, he cries. "(Y/n), please come home." legs aching and panting from having to study all areas. It was pitch black; there were no opened spots for you to even go at an hour of slumber and chaos. The only convenient store did not even have you in it. You were no where to be seen and Kuroo breaks.

Of course he'd notice when it was all too late. The past he's ran away from was still the place he's returned now that the house was only occupied by nothing but rotten memories of the love he didn't took care of. The exact replica of a married life he desperately tried to dodge. "I'm so sorry." for the lonely nights he's left you to sleep, over thinking of what may have been your fault and always figuring him out tirelessly. For the small efforts of adoration he didn't took a glance at and gone to waste. For the words that were never even meant for you to ever feel. For being a neglectful husband. He was sorry he noticed too late how he ruined his precious wife.

Now he's left you on your own out in the dangers outside. If anything horrible happened to you he will forever be crushed. But the world thinks that second chances are given to those who truly deserve them after you came in quietly, slipping off your sandals and waving back to your friend who had dropped you off home. Your short break to the convenient store changed when you met up with her and drove back to her place to rant about what happened. Being the sluggish person you are whenever sadness hits, you never noticed how long you've over stayed. It wasn't like your husband was going to know if he still was working.

Much to your surprise that he wasn't, you stifled a gasp to find him with his hands holding his head that was leaned down on the table. His shoulders were lightly jolting with escapes of audible sniffles, indicating that he was in fact crying. If he looked exhausted before, it wasn't enough to describe his current state; as if he was a man who'd lost every thing as he sat there with all hope lost. Your foot padded on the creaky part of the floor in attempt to tiptoe over his hunched back to comfort him. Squeaking in the awkward situation you've put the room in when Kuroo turns his head behind to see you standing there a bit frightened, but concerned when you saw how disheveled his face looks.

"Tetsu—" his name got cut off short from when you almost tripped over your balance at the sudden impact of Kuroo throwing himself into your arms with his weight. You couldn't make out what he was mumbling on about, but you melt to his embrace even if he squeezes the living day lights from you, afraid that he was going crazy and you weren't real. "Thank God," litters of kisses were placed on your clavicle, "You're back."

He repeats, slowly convincing himself that you are indeed home in his arms, safe, no harm detected. Just home. "I'm so sorry.."

"I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of what I said, I-I'm so sorry." your bodies swayed gently to the sound of your hushes and his cries of apologies. "Please don't leave me like that again. I was so scared."

"Shhh, it's okay, Tetsu. I'm sorry. I'm okay— we're okay." leading him to sit down at the couch, you placed the bag of different brands of sweets and junk on the table before facing your husband. You had to stifle in a laugh watching him wipe his nose, you couldn't help but be reminded of a mini Tetsuro by looking at him. The argument that stung you faded when he took a hold of your hands and mumbled another apology.

"You shouldn't be sorry for anything. I should be.." flickering his eyes from your belly to your bloodshot eyes from your own fiasco back in your friend's place, he slides in closer next to you where your shoulders touched. "I haven't been a good husband lately, have I?" he looks at you expectantly. Frowning, you still nodded. Tired of hiding your own feelings from him.

"I know you're busy most of the time, Tetsu. But I just wanted you to recognize me as your wife." thumbs quick to swipe away the tear that had shed from your eye, "We're in this together, remember?" he pulls you right from the arm, shoving your face to his chest in need to hold you for all the times he should've. Ignoring the dampness of his white long-sleeved polo, breathing in the scent of your sweet shampoo. You were still so forgiving and understanding despite on how equally tired as he was you are.

"I'm so sorry I've made you feel as if I never cared anymore. You never deserved that." his lips found it's way to the crown of your head. "I don't deserve you, and I really don't want to lose you after me being stupid." giggling through tears, fist connecting a soft punch on his chest, bubbling a chuckle to the surface as he lightly pulls you away from hiding.

"I really didn't mean all of those things I've said, baby. I love you and only you." stroking ever so lovingly your cheek, you don't catch on to the fact that his other hand was placed over your stomach protectively. Making a silent promise to not only you, but the soon to be new addition to the family that he will never again neglect what he should've cherished more and looked after than the constant worries at the back of his head.

Because he will never again repeat the replica of a broken family he once was born in.

© all content belongs to mochikeiji. Please do not repost or copy, ありがとうございました!! (=^･^=)

[fndmsrndmyfckinglfe]

The Eyes Are Not the Windows to the Soul They Are the Doors CH.1

Maxim Horvath x Soulmate!Reader

Summary: In a world in which magic users are granted a soulmate and are gifted with the color of their soulmates’ eye on their twentieth birthday.

Warnings: A general overall story warning is that this is obviously not going to be script accurate. I may pull a few lines from it here or there but I want to bring some of my own originality to the characters and the storyline. Honestly, this is going to be a multi-chapter story so warnings will be on a chapter by chapter basis. If there are any that I miss that you happen to catch please let me know and I will add a warning accordingly. :)

Chapter Word Count: 1129

Total Word Count (so far): 1129

A/N: All grammatical and spelling errors are my own. Inspiration has finally struck! I have been OBSESSIVELY reading any kind of fics related to Alfred Molina and I have been HEAVILY inspired by @chrism02 to write this. Their AO3 user is @/ares89 and I highly recommend that everyone go read all of their works. Another thing is that chapter updates may be kind of slow. I am a wife and mom and so the only time I have to write uninterrupted is at night when everyone is asleep. The needs of my kids and husband will always come first before anything. That being said I am determined to see this through, so please just be as patient with me as you can and I will try to upload chapters and do progress updates as often as I can. Any and all updates that I post on here will be under the hashtag #TEANTW. If you’d like to be added to the taglist for this story and any progress updates related to this story just send me a message either directly or to my inbox! :) (I will also be posting this to AO3 when I figure out how to do that and when I figure it out I will post a link to my AO3.)

Read it on Ao3 here: The Eyes Are Not the Windows to the Soul They Are the Doors - Chapter 1 - SigridRennirsdottir - Sorcerer's Apprentice (2010) [Archive of Our Own]

WARNINGS: nightmares, mentions of fire, embarrassment, swearing, Dave being a very awkward mess, light teasing?, fucking science class lmao, mentions of a shitty manager at work, mentions of specialists (therapists, psychiatrists type vibe), (I don’t know if any of this counts as warnings/triggers but better safe than sorry right?) not a lot of Maxim in this chapter but he's coming soon I swear

CHAPTER 1:

You felt sweat collecting behind your neck and on your forehead as you watched the interior of Arcana Cabana burst into flames, the two elder sorcerer’s battling for the doll that you clutched in your small hands. You see the wall of fire separate you and Horvath from Balthazar feeling tidal waves of fear as the elegantly dressed man turns to face you. Everything is muted, you see the words tumbling from his lips but are frozen in your spot as a burning finger comes into your field of vision. Hands outstretched, coming to get you- no to hurt you. A dark grimace painting his face as he lunges at you just about to-

You jolt awake, the familiar feeling of sweat covering your body making you feel dirty and sticky. The same dream that has plagued you since that fateful day fresh in your mind. You had the same dream every year on the anniversary of the worst day of your life. Which also happened to be your birthday. Regardless of what the countess specialists had said, you couldn’t shake the feeling that everything you had experienced had been real. Peeling the covers off of your body, you pad over to your dresser, opening the drawer and pulling out the dragon ring that you had been given from Balthazar. The ring somehow still fit after all these years which was a miracle. You throw the ring back into your drawer, shutting it and hopefully shutting the dreams out for the remainder of the day. Grabbing a towel and clothes you make your way into the bathroom that you shared with your roommate. You start to get ready for your shower and let out a yelp of surprise when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. In true ‘worst day ever’ fashion the eyes that stare back at you are not your own. Well one eye is yours but the other is completely different. A deep chocolate iris, so deep it’s almost black, stares back at you. You had never heard of someone’s eye color changing spontaneously without colored contacts, a product that you didn’t even own. Checking the time you curse under your breath as you realize you’ll be late to Dave’s presentation if you don’t leave soon but you make a mental note to stop by an urgent care on your way back home.

You stick the last piece of your granola bar into your mouth as you head into the lecture hall. You were sitting in on a presentation that was going to be given by David Stutler. He had been the only person to truly believe that everything that had happened was real. He had been the only friend that you had after the incident. He had grown into an awkward college nerd. He had always been a smart kid and it was obvious now. Even though you didn’t even major in anything related to his presentation, you and he had promised to support one another when good things happened to the other. He would come to your choir concerts and you would come to his science fair conventions, albeit hiding in the back most of the time considering your reputation, As you open the door you watch as the gust of air caused by the door causes his pages of notes to scatter all over the floor, some even flying into the seating area. You rush to grab the papers that have blown behind him, as you observe him fumbling to grab the ones that had been blown by a blonde sitting near the front row. It was Becky from grade school. She had always been a nice girl but she had always been popular. How could she not? You stared as he awkwardly reminisced with her and couldn’t help but feel bad for him. When he decided to stay friends with you, he had been outcasted by pretty much everyone just like you had. Snapping back into the moment you hand Dave the notes that you had collected from the floor.

“Is that Becky Barnes from fourth grade?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah! I can’t believe she goes here and she’s actually in this class.” Dave exclaimed in a hushed tone, still looking in Becky’s direction and whipping his head toward you when she sends him an awkward but friendly wave.

“Must be a funky coincidence. Now you can finally finish what you started in grade school and ask her out.” You tease, laughing as Dave’s face turns beet red.

“No- Well- I-..” He stutters out embarrassed at your words. He takes in your appearance and you see his eyes widen when he finally sees your own. “Woah dude what’s up with your fucking eye?” He questions, almost fascinated at the sudden change.

“I have no idea but Dave, I’m teasing you. You can ask her out in your own time,” You start making your way to the back row, “But it better happen before I turn into an old lady!” You call over your shoulder laughing again as he gives you a deathly glare.

You pull your laptop out from your bag and pretend to be listening to Dave’s presentation. It makes you feel a bit guilty that you aren’t actually paying attention but it’s not like you would really understand anything that he’s talking about anyway. Science wasn’t exactly your strong suit. You instead spend your time doing research on eyes spontaneously changing color but frowned when your search garnered no results aside from optometrists that offer procedures to change your eye color. It’s only when students start filtering out of the door that you realize that you spent the last hour and a half clicking through Google search pages. Shutting the laptop and shoving it back into your bag, you stand and make your way back down to Dave and help him gather his notes up (again) and start grabbing his equipment from the presentation.

You and Dave chat as you help him bring his stuff back to his secret lab. You were probably one of the only other humans to be allowed into Dave’s sacred laboratory space. This was his safe space and you understood why he was very picky about who entered the space. You helped him put everything back in its designated spot and bid him goodbye since you needed to get to work.

You walked into the room and were immediately hit in the face by the smell of bitter coffee.

“Great,” You thought to yourself, “Mandy’s working today.” You rolled your eyes as you heard Mandy’s grating voice berating whoever else was working this shift today. Pinning your name badge to your apron, you prepare for the long shift ahead of you.

[pan-fangirl-345]

He Would Tear the World Apart

Summary: During a raid, you're taken hostage. Shouto doesn't take the news well, and will do anything to get you back.

TW: kidnapping, abuse, alcoholism mentioned, Enji Todoroki's bad parenting, mental torture, dissociating, injuries, blood, angst, mentioned character death (no one actually dies), a lot of swearing, chains, starvation, dehydration, that sort of thing. If there's anything I missed, please let me know! Also, there is a happy ending, so it's angst to fluff!

A/N: First and foremost, I have no medical degree, I have no idea what it's like to dissociate, so anything medically incorrect is because I am not a doctor, though I am currently working on getting my psychology degree. I'm sorry if this offends anyone, that was not the intention. I have no idea what went through my head to make me write all of this in an hour, but here you go. Also, please read the trigger warnings, and if you don't like it, don't read it. Anyway, I might make a part two to this if anyone is interested. Feel free to spam my ask box, or slide into my DM's if you want. Please interact with me, I adore you all.

Aizawa sighed as he stepped into the conference room. He sat down heavily in his usual seat, and Nezu climbed onto his shoulder, as was custom after so many years, despite the situation they were in.

Again.

"As you have all heard, one of the second year students, (Y/N), has been taken. She was last seen on a raid with the hero she was studying under, and we haven't heard anything from her since this transmission."

Nezu pressed play on a recording and her voice floated through the air.

She was panting, and she was whispering, but Aizawa knew that it was her.

"To anyone receiving this transmission, this is hero-in-training Tempest, I'm pursuing the criminals associated with the gang 'The Numerals'. I've been separated from the others and my comms have been compromised by one of the members. Please, send back-up."

There was a pause where all they could hear was her breathing, and suddenly she yelled, "Hey! You, stop!"

There was static, and then there was nothing.

"We have received information from one of our recon teams that they have taken her to their base of operations, though we don't know exactly where that is yet. We have also, as a school, received a ransom demand. Her parents have yet to be contacted about this."

Copies of the notes were handed out to the teachers, and they all frowned, clearly thinking the same thing Aizawa had thought.

They were a school, what kind of school had this kind of money sitting around?

"What is the girl's quirk?"

"She can create different types of storms in her hands," Aizawa supplied. "As of the end of last year, she could make a hurricane for a few minutes at a time, sometimes a dust storm, and I know for a fact that she was undergoing training over the summer, so it might be more than that now. Under extreme duress, she can make a full scale electrical storm in a building or outside, but only if her life is threatened."

"So, not helpful for getting out of this kind of situation?" one of the other teachers chirped and Aizawa nodded.

"No," he agreed. "Though we should be checking for any strange storms and freak electrical spikes."

"Do any of the other students know about this?" Hizashi asked.

"No, and we need to keep it that way," Aizawa told his husband.

"Why?" Vlad King asked.

"(Y/N) is Todoroki Shouto's girlfriend," Aizawa replied, then waited for that to sink in before he continued. "If he finds out that she's gone, or that's she's been kidnapped and harmed . . . ." He shook his head a few times before he added, "He would tear the world apart to get her back."

"Fuck," someone mumbled, and Aizawa nodded.

Pretty much everyone that was at U.A. knew what that girl meant to Shouto, not to mention the people at Endeavor's agency, and the one that (Y/L/N) was working with.

"Alright, so what's the plan?" Midnight asked.

"We plan a rescue mission," Nezu said. "We're working with nearly every police force in the country to try and figure out where they're keeping her. We have a rough area," he clicked onto a photo of a map, one area to the far north highlighted in bright red. "But there's nothing we can do until then, we need a warrant and evidence."

"The life of a child isn't enough?" Midnight asked. "Especially such a beautiful girl?"

Everyone went quiet, the mood somber and heavy.

"Aizawa, you spent more time with this girl than anybody," one of the third year teachers said, "how likely is it that she'll find a way out on her own?"

"It's a possibility," Aizawa admitted. "She's a very capable student, on par with Midoriya, Todoroki, and Bakugou, but they know what she can do. Not to mention that sources tell us she was injured, though we aren't sure to what extent. And the longer she spends with them is more time Shouto has to figure out what's happening. Not to mention the other students. We need to get her out as soon as possible."

"Agreed," Hizashi added.

It was no secret that Present Mic and Eraserhead had both taken a liking to you when you were in Class 1-A, all of the teachers liked you, and you were a solid foundation for your classmates.

You were a calm presence, and everyone, Bakugou included, had gone to you for advice at some point, though it was all for different reasons.

You tend to be a level-headed person, but when you felt strongly about something, nothing was going to stop you.

People, Shouto mainly, would start to sense the lack of your presence, and Aizawa wasn't ashamed to admit that he wanted you back where you belonged.

"We can't keep him, Shouto I mean, in the dark about this," Hizashi murmured. "He's one of the best up and coming heroes."

"Not to mention," Aizawa added, "that we plan on flooding the streets with her photo. We've already sent it to all of the major hero agencies involved with the search, Endeavor's being one of them. If we don't tell him, his father will, and we all know how volatile that relationship is."

Everyone in the room shuddered at the mention of the father and son duo and nodded.

"Aizawa, All Might, it might be better if you both told him," Nezu said. "You both have the best relationship with him in this room, and you might be the only two that could hold him back if he reacts violently."

"And he will," Aizawa mumbled, already standing from his chair.

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

Shouto knew something was wrong.

He hadn't seen or heard from you in two days, almost three, and the teachers were acting suspicious. There were fewer of them in the halls, and Aizawa was even more tired than usual, with dark worry bags under his eyes that the students hadn't seen since the Bakugou Debacle in their first year.

The last he had heard, you were going on a raid for some gang members that were selling some sort of hallucinogenic drug based off of a mirage quirk.

You hadn't contacted him or come back since.

"Young Shouto, can we speak to you for a moment?" All Might asked, making everyone look up from what they were doing.

Despite the dorms no longer being completely necessary, (the League had backed off a little bit in recent days, and there hadn't been very many Nomu attacks lately), most of Class 1-A, now 2-A, had moved into the dorms for their second year, you and Shouto included.

"Does this have to do with (Y/F/N)?" he asked, standing quickly.

"Unfortunately, yes," Aizawa said, voice somber.

"Todoroki, do you want us to come with you?" Midoriya asked, getting that look on his face.

"If it's about (Y/F/N) then they all deserve to know too," Shouto said. "And I would feel better knowing they were here."

"Of-Of course," All Might replied, glancing at Aizawa nervously.

"(Y/L/N) has been kidnapped and is being held hostage as we speak," he told them, as blunt as ever.

Aizawa ripped his goggles off right before Shouto blew.

One half of his body erupted into blue tinted flames, and the other exploded in a rain of ice, but they evaporated quickly under Aizawa's gaze, and before any damage could be done to the dorms.

Everything went dark in his head, and his feet were moving before he even had a chance to fully process what his former teachers had been saying to him.

"And where do you think you're going?" Aizawa asked, raising an eyebrow as he moved to intercept him.

"To find her," Shouto snarled, and he didn't even recognize his own voice. It was several octaves lower than normal, and there was a rasp to it that had never been there before. "To get my girlfriend back."

"You don't even know where she is," Aizawa said. "We don't even know where she is. Besides, you're too emotionally involved."

"Too emotionally involved?" Shouto said, his voice too calm, his eyes too dead.

Everyone in the room took a step away from him. Everyone except Midoriya and Bakugou.

"Too emotionally involved?" he repeated.

"Oh shit," someone whispered, though Shouto didn't know who it was.

"That is my girlfriend. That is the love of my life and you're telling me that I can't get her back because . . . I'm too emotionally involved? What about when Midoriya went to get Eri? Was he too 'emotionally involved'?"

No one dared to point out that it was nowhere near the same thing, but there was a collective thought about it in the room.

"That is my fucking girlfriend out there," he snapped. "I will work harder than anyone to get her back. I will be the one person wholly invested in making sure that she stays safe."

"And that is why you can't be one of the people in on this," Aizawa told him. "The others are her friends, but you? You are way more than that, and that means that when it comes down to it, you can't make a clear-headed decision on whether it's worth it to try and grab her or not. Because she'll always be worth it to you."

"Damn right she will," Shouto said, staring Aizawa down.

No one had heard Shouto swear this much at once, if ever, depending on the person. He was starting to sound like Bakugou, and the others knew immediately that if you weren't back soon, he was going to blow.

"Look kid, I understand," Aizawa muttered. "I really do. I understand how you feel, I would do that same thing for Hizashi, but I also know what I would do, and we can't have that in the investigation. What would (Y/F/N) want?"

"She would want to be here!" Shouto shouted. "She would want to be teasing Bakugou in the kitchen, making sure that everyone had a blanket for movie night. She would want to be curled up with me on the couch watching bad romance movies that the girls cheated their way into picking out and making sure that I-!"

Shouto stopped as the emotions got lodged in his throat. Tears threatened to spill over as his vision got blurry, and the others were there to catch him as his knees gave out on him.

"We'll get her back kid," Aizawa assured him, crouching down, touching the top of his head softly. "We will get her back."

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

Your head was buzzing as you came back to consciousness and you suppressed a groan of pain.

Consciousness hurt.

You did a short mental tally of your injuries.

Your ribs were definitely a little bruised, if not cracked or broken. Your lips were split in at least four different places each. One shoulder was definitely dislocated, and the other was hurt in some way. Your left ankle was bruised and swollen, broken probably. Your head probably had a huge gash if the blood running down the side of your face was anything to go by, and you were definitely concussed on some level.

Apparently getting your head slammed into solid concrete by someone who had launched themselves off a ledge would do that to you.

You were in what looked like a basement of some sort. The walls were solid concrete, there were pipes running overhead and dripping on you randomly, which wasn't appreciated, and there was insulation and plaster showing through here and there.

"Finally awake sleeping beauty?"

Your head whipped around to see your kidnapper, but your head protested and so did your stomach, despite the fact that there was nothing in it.

You suppressed a groan, trying to keep your stomach where it belonged.

"Ready to tell us who the informant is?"

"Go straight to hell," you muttered, when you were certain you wouldn't throw up on yourself, glaring at them.

"I still can't believe you were fucking stupid enough to kidnap a child! She doesn't know shit," the other man snapped at the first.

"She has to know something!" the first guy snapped. "She was in on the raid!"

His quirk allowed him to change his voice, so he wasn't using the real one, he sounded like a guy that smoked twenty packs of cigarettes a day.

The other guy you had started calling Sandy in your head. His quirk was similar to yours, he was able to turn anything he touched into sand, and then use it. He mostly made sand storms, and that's how they had gotten the jump on you in the tunnels.

One had blinded you while the other had carried you away, much to chagrin of the Sandy.

"I'm in training," you rasped. "I'm hero-in-training Tempest, from Class 2-A at the school U.A."

They hadn't given you anything to drink in the last two days, from what you could even remember of it, and you knew that you weren't going to last much longer, having been dehydrated when they had taken you.

They had kidnapped you from the raid site, and then spent six hours driving around like morons trying to cover their tracks, before driving for an unknown amount of time before they had dumped you in here. You had been unconscious for the secondary part of the drive, and you knew that with everything going on, there was the possibility you were experiencing retrograde amnesia.

"They don't tell me the important stuff like that. I get told when we're going on raids, and what my part in them is, and that's on the very rare occasion that they happen during my shifts. Most of the time, I'm on patrols around the city," you told them, taking a break in your little speech to spit blood onto the floor by your leg. "You need directions, I'm your girl, but you need to know who's a rat, sorry, I can't help."

You would've shrugged, but your arms were chained to the wall behind you, and every time you moved your right arm it made an awful clicking noise that you knew wasn't natural. Your left shoulder was dislocated as well, meaning your arms were pretty much useless.

One leg was operational, but barely. You were so far out of commission you wouldn't be surprised if U.A. kicked you out to recuperate.

U.A. wouldn't, and couldn't, pay the ransom. You knew that. The best hope you had was that you could act your way out of this, or that they planned a raid to get you out.

They had done it for Bakugou, why not you, right?

Shouto passed through your thoughts, thoughts about what he might do to get you back, but you shut them down as soon as they entered your head.

You were trying to keep him in a safe place.

You hoped that Shouto never learned about this. About where they were keeping you, what they had already done to try and get you to talk.

He was your safe place now, safe and away from this building, wherever you were. You thought maybe if you could keep him out of your head here, it was a way of protecting him from the reality of your situation, even if he already knew.

"She's a kid," Sandy snarled, pointing at you viciously. "She's a kid. You know the Boss' rules about kids and you broke almost every one of them!"

"Yeah, well-"

"Guys, hey, I hate to interrupt," you interjected, "but I really have to go to the bathroom."

They both stared at you for a moment before Sandy asked, "Do you promise to not try and escape?"

"Buddy, I don't know if you've looked recently, but I doubt I'm doing anywhere," you quipped. "My ankle is obviously demolished, my head was cracked open like an egg, thanks to your buddy Darth Vader over there. Not to mention, I'm dehydrated and starving, and don't even get me started on how much my ribs are killing me right now, probably literally. Do I look like I'm in any shape to try and escape?"

Sandy frowned, glancing at you like this was the first time he was seeing the extent of what had been done to you.

"Alright, I'm going to undo the chains, but you can't try to escape, you'll only make things worse for yourself."

"Death seems preferable at this point," you grunted, trying to hide the pain you were in.

"Don't you have healing supplies?"

"How am I supposed to use them when I can't move my fucking arms?" you asked, wiggling your fingers in emphasis. "And you morons confiscated my belt, which had them all in it! You know what my quirk is! What did you think was in it? Explosives? No, I leave that to Dynamight."

"Fuck," Sandy muttered.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" the voice dude asked.

"Because if she dies then that means no money and no chance of surviving prison again. Do you know what happens to people who mess with kids in prison? Nothing good."

You logged that little piece of information away, trying to focus on their features, but with your concussion, your eyes weren't the hottest.

"Can you move?" Sandy asked you as he worked on unlocking your chains.

You couldn't help the cry of pain when your arms dropped to your sides, tearing stinging your eyes as you bit into your already roughed up lip.

"Shit. Can we get a medic in here?" Sandy shouted.

A door opened and someone stuck their head in. Sandy repeated his demand, and the door shut again.

"Why are you doing this?" you whimpered, trying to keep your voice even.

If they were sadists, any fear or pain you showed only gave them what they wanted.

"Because we don't have a choice," Sandy said. "The Boss gave us somewhere to belong, he gave us a place off the streets. We owe him. We would've died."

"Shut up," Smoker snapped, and you glanced at him.

"I have a headache, and it comes and goes as you talk. Please, for the love of all things holy, shut up," you hissed to Darth Vader, wanting to touch your head, but not being able to for multiple reasons.

Sandy touched your shoulder lightly and you cried out again, moving automatically to hit him, but your other arm twinged, bringing more tears to your eyes.

"Sorry," Sandy murmured, pulling his hands away.

You took a shaky breath, waiting for the pain to dull before you said, "There's no way I'm moving from this spot without being in pain, and I'm definitely going to need help."

"Holy fuck, you two morons were two lucky blows away from killing her."

You glanced over to see someone with a med kit strolling leisurely down the stairs.

"Hello Tempest," they said, giving you a bright smile.

"Hello Med Kit," you replied, giving them a grimace.

"You can call me Himo for now," Med Kit said. "Do you mind if I take a look?"

"You're going to whether I want you or not, but sure, go ahead," you muttered. "It's not really like you can make this any worse."

"I could break almost every bone in your body and keep you alive while doing it, so I could do so much worse, but that's not the goal here," Himo told you, setting to work.

"So what is the goal? Since I'm assuming that I'm never going to get out of here," you said, glancing around.

"Why do you think that?" Himo asked, ignoring your first question.

"Because I've seen your faces, I know your quirks, I know a general area of where I'm being kept, unless someone used a teleportation quirk of some sort. I know the school won't pay the ransom, my parents don't have that kind of money, and my boyfriend's father would never pay to see me safe and sound. He would probably twist his son's grief to get him to be compliant," you grumbled. "Besides, I'm a hero, hero-in-training, whatever, it's all semantics. I'm basically your arch-nemesis. Isn't that what every villain wants? To kill the person in their way?"

"We aren't villains," Sandy muttered.

"You break laws put in place to protect people, you attacked a minor, then kidnapped her after assaulting her, and you are trying to get a ransom for me," you pointed out. "That doesn't really scream 'hero' or 'civilian' to me."

"Have you ever though about who writes the rules? About how money can manipulate everything? The system is flawed, and we are going to make sure people know it," Darth Vader snarled. "Do you understand how unfair the world is?"

"Don't talk to me about the world being unfair," you whispered, your voice dropping, every muscle in your body tensing. "My boyfriend loves his mother more than pretty much anyone in the world. Her parents, his grandparents, arranged a quirk marriage, and she had four children she didn't necessarily want. Her husband drove her to near insanity, enough so that she poured a kettle of boiling water over my boyfriend's face because he looks like his father. His father has already managed to get one of his children killed, and he considers the other rejects because they don't have the quirk he wanted them to have. He's a different kind of monster, and he's not in jail.

"My own father verbally and mentally abused me for as long as I can remember. My mother and I were zombies until recently, when I decided I had had enough and my mother finally found the courage and will to leave his sorry ass in the gutters where it belongs. My father always had enough alcohol in his system to make him a human molotov cocktail. I had little to no self esteem until recently, and I still struggle to understand and comprehend that I am worth love. I am still learning to respect myself. So you don't get to preach to me about how unfair the world is buddy, we all know," you snarled.

"The hundreds, thousands of kids out on the street know. The women and men that get raped, and continue to see their own personal monster roam free know. The kids that get hit every day for not being what their parents want know. That's why people like me exist, to put away the monsters wearing human skin. That's why my friends and I try so hard to be heroes. It's not about the glory, or the money. It's about bring people to justice, it's about making sure that people feel safe. It's about giving other people something that we never had."

Silence echoed through the room as what you said sank in.

You hadn't meant to burst like that, but you were sick and tired of these guys using their shitty lives to make other people's lives shitty too.

"Why are you a hero, Tempest?" Himo asked.

"Because I want to save people," you replied. "I just told you that. I want to make sure that every child like me knows that they don't have to be their parents, that there is another option. I don't want the abused becoming the abuser. I want to make sure that the people doing the bad things get put where they belong. I want to help the kids that have nothing to lose, I want to help them realize that they have everything to gain. I want to give people like you hope."

There was no use in lying to them, they were probably going to kill you anyway. Besides, it might help you build rapport, and they might let you go when they realized that they made a mistake.

"People like us?"

"People who think that there isn't another option. People who have been shown nothing but the horrid parts of the world, the horrible parts of humanity. People who don't know what it's like to be loved completely by somebody, both good and bad. People who think that they owe someone who isn't worth one minute of their time. Good people who strayed too far from the path."

There was silence for a few minutes before you said, "I've seen a lot of real villains, people who aren't capable of basic human emotions, I've seen people who have no humanity in their eyes. They are the villains, they are the monster under our beds personified. People like you, you just simply wandered. You aren't lost, you're just further to the side than some other people. It would be easy for you to walk the path again."

You paused, thinking over what you said, then added, "Well, it wouldn't be easy necessarily, but it would be worth it."

"You still have the naivety of a child," Vader snarled.

"Call me what you want, naive, innocent, optimistic, I've heard it all, but in the end, I'm right," you told him.

"And how do you know that?"

"Because, at the end of the day, I know that every life I save isn't just one life," you replied. "That young woman I saved, she might have kids some day, or foster a child that needs a loving mother. That child I shoved out of the way might help the suicidal child in his class. Every life I save touches other people's lives. As hard as it is to believe, no one is ever truly alone in the world. Every smile I give to a stranger might make their day, might help them live long enough to find the thing that makes them happy. That's why I'm a hero."

More silence.

Your face heated, but there was something in their faces that told you they had never thought about it that way before.

"So, is there anything you can do to heal me?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"Like I said, these guys were two lucky blows away from killing you, I'm surprised that you're still alive, actually, everything considered. Your head will heal on it's own, but there might be a little scar left. However, your ribs might take longer. Three are cracked, and four are bruised. Your ankle might need surgery to get it back to the way it was. It's definitely broken, and there might be small bone particles floating around in there, I'm not entirely sure, my quirk isn't that detailed I'm afraid. Not to mention that, from what I can see, your shoulders just need to be popped back into place. One was dislocated more than the other, but it will hurt."

"Can't hurt worse than the state I'm in now. So what can you do? I'm assuming that taking me to a hospital is out of the question."

"Well, I can treat the cut on your head, relocate your shoulders, and I can see if someone else can take a look at your ankle, but everything else will have to heal on it's own."

"So there isn't much?"

"Nope, we don't have the equipment needed for your ankle here, and, like you said, no hospitals."

"Fucking gre- wait a minute, to you guys still have my belt?" you asked, perking up a little.

"Yeah, it's over here," Sandy said, walking over into the back corner, pulling your med belt out.

"Hand it over. I promise there's nothing too harmful in there. There are some painkillers, but it's just Midol. It's all medical stuff," you said, wincing as Sandy dropped it into your lap.

You opened it, taking out a small device.

"What does that thing even do?" Himo asked, looking at it warily.

"It's not a communicator or anything," you hurried to explain. "I made some friends in the support courses, so I asked if they could make me a device that works like an X-ray would. Himo, take it."

He took from you gently, which you appreciated, and turned it all around, trying to figure out how it worked.

"Alright, see that little button on the top left, yeah, right there. Click that button twice, like hitting the home button of a phone."

Himo did as he was told, and the screen blinked to life.

"Alright, hold the over my hurt ankle, and it should be able to show what's going on. Or," you added, "it'll blow up. Hatsume is kind of unpredictable like that."

Himo's hands tightened on it, but he did what you asked, and was clearly surprised when a detailed X-ray appeared on the screen.

"Holy shit, it worked!" you cheered, grinning.

"You have some very talented friends," Himo told you.

"I know right? She's a little quirky, but she's great at what she does!"

"How are you able to smile right now?" Sandy asked, looking at you with something akin to wonder.

"Don't get me wrong," you started. "I'm fucking terrified, but there's not much I can do in this situation. Besides, from what I can tell, other than the initial assault, you people don't want to hurt me. You want something from me. In this scenario, what I'm guessing, is that you want something from me, so you're going to be nice, and make me want to help you out, or make me feel like I owe you one, and then, when I don't comply, you'll either torture me to try and get what you want until I die, or you'll just kill me right off the bat."

Himo winced, and Sandy twitched.

"You guys really hate the thought of me dying, don't you?" you asked, cocking your head to the side, despite the protect of your brain. "Is this one of those scenarios where kids should be off limits?"

"We may be bad guys, but we have certain priorities," Sandy admitted. "Kids are a sore spot for most of us."

You nodded slightly. "I can see why. You guys said something about being on the streets? I know that sometimes kids band together, that's how they survive. I'm assuming you've lost friends."

"Smart kid," Himo murmured, eyes darting over the X-ray.

"Sometimes they give us profile training," you admitted. "Besides, I've been working on my psychology degree."

"Wicked smart kid," Sandy quipped.

"Alright, so I can set your ankle, there isn't anything wrong with it other than the obvious fact that it's broken," Himo said, handing the device back to you. "Riko, I'm gonna need your help."

"With what?" Sandy asked, looking skeptical.

"Can you hold her legs down? I need to relocate her shoulders before I do anything with her ankle, just because I have a feeling she attacks when she's hurt."

"Good instincts," you muttered.

"I'm a doctor," he confessed, grinning. "You learn a thing or two."

"Sorry about this," Sandy said.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," you told him. "As long as that's all you do I'll considerate your way of trying to make up from everything else."

Sandy snorted, holding your legs just below your knees.

"This is going to hurt," Himo warned.

"I would be surprised if it-"

You clenched your teeth to try and keep your scream in as Himo popped your right arm back into place.

The rest of your body bucked, trying to roll away, but Sandy, Riko, had a firm hold on you.

You panted as the pain started to fade a little in your arm.

"Sorry, I've found it works better when people aren't expecting it," he said.

"Son of a bitch," you gritted out, spitting blood off to the side. "I bit my tongue."

Riko chuckled, shaking his head.

"Alright, now for the other one," Himo murmured. "I really don't understand how you managed to take this much damage."

"At least I only broke my ankle. My friend Deku has broken both arms, both legs, and both hands before. I think he's broken almost every bone in his body sa-"

Himo popped your other arm back into place and you couldn't stop the tears that flowed down your cheeks at that one, your jaw almost cracking with how hard you clenched it to try and keep the noises in.

"Fucking fuck," you muttered when the pain pulsed into something a little bit more bearable.

"Better?" Himo asked, prodding your shoulders.

"Yeah," you admitted, moving them slowly. You dug around in your med belt, pulling out two pieces of metal and a small bottle.

"What is that for?" Himo asked.

You pushed a button on the metal, and they extended to the required length.

"It's for a splint, or a cast," you told him. "Once you set my ankle, you put the metal on either side, and I can spray this one. It's a special kind of plaster, don't ask me how it works, I have no idea what's in it, but it'll hold until my ankle is fully healed, then it'll fall off on it's own."

"Amazing!"

"Heroes, when the respond to disasters, often have to set up triages until other emergency responders can arrive, so we have to know a little bit about basic medical treatments in emergencies like that. So a lot of us have belts and such to keep medical stuff in. I also keep duct tape and glue in here. You never know when you're gonna need it."

You pulled out some painkillers, popping two in your mouth, taking them dry.

"How?" Vader asked, sounding horrified.

"Hate to break it to you, but when you're a teenage girl, especially one learning to be a hero, when you don't always have time for water, you learn to take pills dry."

"TMI," Vader muttered.

"Hey, jackass, you asked," you told him.

Riko and Himo chuckled.

"Alright. Riko, see if you can get a hold on her, this is gonna hurt like a bitch," Himo warned. "Li, hold her other leg down."

"Don't use my fucking name!" Vader shouted.

"You know, I wouldn't have known that was your real name if you hadn't reacted that way," you told him. "Heroes are also trained to pick up on certain behaviors like that."

Li grumbled, but did as he was asked.

Himo situated himself, then said, "Get ready."

The pain had you blacking out before you knew what happened.

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

"I knew something was wrong," Shouto muttered for the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. "I should have gone with her!"

"Dude, it wasn't even your mission," Kaminari told him. "There was nothing you could've done for her."

"Yeah you half-and-half bastard," Bakugou chimed in. "Besides, we're gonna get her back, so shut up and try and think of something useful."

Everyone had leapt into action when it had sunk in that you were in serious danger. It didn't take long, and no one wanted to acknowledge that it was worrisome.

They had split up into teams.

Midoriya, Bakugou, Shouto, Kaminari, and Kirishima were working on the maps that had been given to the students.

Momo, Jirou, Uraraka, Mina, and Tsuyu were going over the interviews with raid members, trying to gather up information on what had happened, trying to see if there was a traitor among them, other than the undercover agent that they had been told about.

Tokoyami, Ojiro, Shoji, Sero, and Koda were helping the other heroes do recon missions and patrols in the area where they suspected you were being held.

Sato, Shinso, Hagaruke, and Iida were working on the case files of all the known members of the gang that you had been going after. Surprisingly, those four were the only ones able to hear about the things that some of the gang members had done.

Hagakure was crying softly to herself as she read, but no one could pull her away from the files.

"I have to know," she kept saying. "I need to know about what they did so I can help when we get her back."

Sato didn't know you as well as the others did, so he was a little less effected. He were itching to get you back, but the others had spent far more time with you personally.

Shinso, on the other hand, was powering through them, wanting to know what he had to avenge when they got to that building. He wanted to know what they might be doing to you so that he could have far more reason to get them arrested.

Iida just wanted something useful to do.

"They just cleared building seven in section 3-C!" Aoyama called from his spot the progress computer that they had set up in the common room.

Aoyama was in charge of letting them know what had been cleared, what was under suspicion, and what they had ruled out completely.

"Fuck, that pretty much clears that grid section," Bakugou muttered, forcefully crossing an abandoned apartment building off his map.

"They might need to expand their net," Midoriya added. "No one knows where she is. There's the possibility that they aren't even in that area."

"I hate this!" Shouto burst out. "I feel useless just sitting here!"

"It's either this or you get stuck back on the sidelines," Bakugou reminded him and he clenched his fists.

He just wanted you back safe and sound by his side, preferably with his arm around your shoulders.

He'd been trying to remember the last thing he said to you before you had gone on that raid, but he couldn't remember.

He hoped that it was 'I love you' or something similar, but not knowing was killing him.

"Todoroki-kun," Midoriya said, laying a hand on his arm. "We will get her back."

"Yeah, we aren't giving up on her, no way in hell," Kaminari added, eyes flashing gold in the lights of the common room.

"She never gave up on us, it's not manly for us to give up on her," Kirishima chimed in.

"I know," Shouto said. "I trust you all."

It went unsaid, but understood, that when it came time to get her back, Shouto was going to be the one leading the rescue.

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

A week later, Himo came into the basement and said, "Do you think you can walk?"

"On one leg maybe. Why?" you asked.

Your ankle was wrapped in the cast that you had taken out, but your ankle was feeling a little better than it had been. It still throbbed every once in a while, but it could've been worse.

"The boss wants to see you."

"Oh, the big boss," you griped, rolling your eyes. "He wants to see me he can come down here himself."

Himo hesitated, but he nodded, heading back upstairs.

You had known that there was an undercover agent in the gang, but you had yet to figure out who it was.

Every member of the gang seemed to know that you were there, that, or they were much bigger than you had anticipated.

So far, Himo and Riko were your top two suspicions, given that they were the only two that were actually kind to you, but you had a small part of you that wasn't sure.

The door opening a few minutes later announced the arrival of the leader, and you steeled yourself.

"You fucking morons," the man muttered, rubbing his eyes like he had a headache. "What did I say about kids?"

"Sorry Boss, but we didn't have a choice," Li said, stepping out of the shadows.

He had been stay with you for the entire week, and it was clear that you didn't have the kind of rapport with him that you did with Riko and Himo.

You had been trying to make a storm, something, to let the someone know where you were, but you had idea of knowing whether it was working or not. You were in the experimental stages of the large storm capabilities of your quirk, and you were completely drained at the moment.

"What's your name kid?" the man asked.

His hands were covered in rings, and scars littered the little bit of skin his tailored suit showed off.

You had seen Shouto in high class clothes for gatherings that he was required by social convention to attend, so this guy was either rich, or so far into debt that he was on the run from the banks.

"You can call me Tempest," you said.

"(Y/N). Second year at U.A. Class 2-A student, and one of the new public favorites," Li said.

"Aw, you looked me up, how sweet," you taunted. "But like I said, I prefer Tempest, it sounds cooler."

"Far enough," the boss said.

He was wearing a mask that covered the top half of his face, and a fedora type hat, so there wasn't much to catalog, but you did anyway.

"Are you here to kill me?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, despite the way it made the chains rattle.

"No, not if you give me what I want," the man said. His voice was deep, and he looked like he was in his early thirties, but you weren't entirely sure.

"I don't know who your rat is," you stated.

"How do you know that's what I wanted?"

"When I woke up on day two, your Sandy man and Darth Vader over there were talking about it. Vader actually asked me about it." You paused, then said, "You guys do realize that I'm right under an intern right? I'm not high enough to know about UC's. Think of me like the intern's intern. I'm lucky I even got to go on the raid."

The man watched your for a moment before he said, "I hate it when people tell me the truth. It means I don't get to have any fun."

"Sucks to be you then," you replied. "So what happens now?"

"You get broken," the man said, reaching out to touch your forehead.

"Good luck with that," you muttered when he pulled away.

Then the visions started.

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

"Everybody get up!" Aoyama shouted. "Up, up, up! Someone called in a noise complaint late last night!"

Class 2-A poured into the common room.

Shouto, Midoriya, Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari and Sero ran in with no shirts on, and Kaminari fell trying to pull his shorts up over his Pikachu boxers. Shinso was already in there sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee clad in a t-shirt with a cat meme and dark jeans.

The girls poured in in a mix of pajamas and hoodies that they had stolen from the boys over the last week, their hair a mess and dark bags under their eyes.

"What's going on?" Shouto asked. He knew that his bags were darker than anyone's, and no one had seen him sleep in almost three days.

"Late last night someone called the tip line anonymously to complain about screaming from a condemned building smack dab in the middle of section 1-A. Someone checked into it and there has been a lot of activity in that area lately," Aoyama explained.

He had given up trying to keep up the sparkly attitude, though some of the French had stayed.

"Is there anything else?"

"Guess which gang has been operating in the middle of that area?" Shinso said, having stayed up with the sparkly blond.

"The Numerals," Shouto said.

"Tres bein!" Aoyama replied.

"Have the heroes been notified?"

"They started a conference at three this morning," Shinso said.

"And no one told us?" Shouto asked.

"They wanted to let us sleep. They know how hard we've been working," Shinso replied.

"I'll sleep when we get her back," Shouto snapped, heading for the conference room.

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

Aizawa shouldn't have been surprised when his former students streamed into the meeting that was being held to rescue (Y/L/N), but he was.

Though that might have been because most of the boys were shirtless and the girls were clad in their pajamas, and hoodies that were clearly not theirs.

"Catch us up," Shouto demanded.

"Shouto, what are you-"

"Shouto, you are aware that this is merely to scope out the building, correct?" Aizawa interrupted, glancing at his former class.

"We don't fucking care," Bakugou snarled. "You're going to catch us up, and you're going to let us join, because she's our friend, and we're the strongest team that you could ask for."

"We can't, in good conscience, let kids into-"

"Do we need to mention all the times that the League has attacked us in the last year? Not to mention Gentle Criminal, Stain, the whole Chisaki ordeal, should we go on?" Midoriya asked, frowning.

Endeavor went to talk again but more students started to talk.

"We can help," Kirishima chimed in. "We want to help."

"Besides," Kaminari added before any of the adults could chime in, "the more hands you have the better it'll be. We can capture more members and get her back. It's a win-win scenario. Gangs are known to be disorganized. If you can get word to your informant about a stealth mission, you might be able to get both them and (Y/L/N) out with minimal risk to them both."

"And we have useful quirks," Jirou supplied. "Kaminari can kill any power they have, Bakugou and Midoriya are good for taking stuff down, so are Kirishima and Sato. Todoroki is more than capable of restraining anyone that he comes across, and I can tell you where people are, how many and so on."

"Not to mention I can make communicators that are much harder to disconnect," Momo piped up.

"People don't really know about me yet," Shinso said, hands in his jeans pockets. "They don't know my quirk, so they're much more likely to fall for me, which is more than helpful for you, since it makes fighting back much less likely."

"We want to get her back, me more than anyone," Shouto said, arms crossed over his chest. "We can useful. Besides, I don't think I need to mention all the times that we've stepped in without your permission and gotten the objective completed while keeping everything legal."

Aizawa sighed.

"We really should just let them help," he said. "They're going to keep pushing, and I don't want any of them expelled and arrested. They are some of the best up and coming heroes. Besides, they all make good points."

"I feel the need to point out," Midoriya chimed in, "that the more of us you take, the more heroes you can have causing a distraction, or the more you can release to recharge and work on other things that are starting to take precedent, like the drug that the gang is manufacturing and selling."

There were more whispers, and finally the heroes sighed.

"Alright, but you're working with Eraserhead and Endeavor, since they're going to be leading the mission with Fatgum."

"We can work with that," Bakugou said. "But we want permission to engage if necessary."

"You would have that anyway," Fatgum said.

"We also want credit if we find her," Sero added. "We aren't going to let possible attackers think that we're defenseless. They take on one of us, they take on all of us."

"That can be discussed," Present Mic assured them.

"This should go without saying," Shouto began, "that I get to ride with her in the ambulance when we find her."

"Everyone assumed that anyway," Midnight told him. "Don't worry Todoroki, no one is going to keep you away from her."

Endeavor opened his mouth, but sharp looks from everyone had him shutting it again.

The students nodded.

"Now catch us up," Bakugou demanded.

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

You couldn't remember when you had stopped processing things the proper way.

You couldn't remember a time before the nightmares.

They talked to you, they wanted you to know about an informant. Sometimes Shouto appeared, smiling and reaching his hands out to you. Sometimes your father walked in, drunk as always, shouting at you to do better.

You retreated in on yourself.

You turned to that small part of your brain that you had made to wait out the fighting, the yelling, the hurt. You retreated into the part of yourself that you knew no one could ever enter but you.

Shouto was there like he always was. He wasn't entirely your Shouto, but he wasn't the nightmare either.

He was a figment of your imagination, but he made things a little bit better.

"I'll come," he assured you. "I'll find you."

You were lying in a meadow, a small clearing surrounded by trees that were bent over you to create a small dome of shade.

"I know you will," you told him, reaching your hand out to him.

He touched his fingers to yours, but you couldn't feel it.

You remembered someone in the past calling it dissociating, but you weren't a professional yet.

You had never done it at U.A. since you had never felt the need, but this wasn't something that you would ever be able to forget how to do.

You could still see the nightmares, but it was like it was far away, background noise.

"Do you think that you'll ever go back?" Shouto asked. "Do you think that you'll ever go back to me?"

"Maybe, if the nightmares ever stop. If I think that it's actually you that I'm going back to," you said, watching him carefully.

"Do you remember the last thing you said to me?" Shouto inquired.

"Yeah. I said, 'I'll always come back to you'. Why are you asking me that?"

"Do you remember what I said to you?"

"You said, 'Promise me you'll be safe?' I was about to go on the raid, and you were upset about not being able to go with me."

"Do you promise to remember that?" Shouto asked.

"Yeah, I promise," you told him, smiling a little.

"(Y/F/N)! Oh, darling, what did they do to you? (Y/F/N), can you hear me?"

The nightmare was getting better at looking like the real Shouto, and this one had the same voice.

"Go to him," the dream Shouto said, sitting up.

"Why?"

"(Y/F/N), blink if you can hear me," Shouto demanded.

You forced yourself to blink.

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

Shouto couldn't describe to absolute relief it was to see you blink.

He had seen the discarded cast off to the side of you, and he wasn't sure whether you would be able to hear him in that state.

"Hey darling, come on, we're gonna get you out of here, I promise," he murmured, touching your face lightly.

"Sh-Shouto," you rasped. "Shouto, wh-what was the last thing that you said to me?"

"Darling, don't try to speak," he told you, trying to figure out how to cut through the chains without hurting you.

"Shouto, what was the last thing that you said to me?" you asked again, reaching up to grab his hand.

"'Do you promise me that you'll be safe?'" he said, eyes roving over you to try and see any wounds. "That's what I said to you."

Your eyes widened in surprise before tears slipped out of your eyes.

"Sho, it really is you!"

"Darling, hey," he murmured, touching your face softly.

You were sobbing now, fully body sobs, and Shouto wanted so badly to take a moment to just relish in the fact that you were safe, but he had to get you out of there as soon as possilbe.

"Tsukuyomi," Shouto called. "Can Dark Shadow cut through chains?"

"Yes."

"I'm on the basement level of the building. I have Tempest, can you meet us down here?"

"On our way," Tokoyami assured him.

"Guys, I have her, she's in the basement with me, we're getting her out as we speak," Shouto declared over the coms, and he was met with cheers and relief that you were okay.

"How many of you are here?" you asked, wiping at your face.

"The whole class is here," Shouto told you. "Most of the hero agencies sent representatives that are here too."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, people were really upset that you were taken, especially with the role you played in apprehending Numeral gang members on the last raid, and the part you played in bringing the drug to light."

"Wow," you murmured, making Shouto laugh.

"Hold on just a little bit longer darling," he coaxed. "Our friends are on the way."

"I can't believe that it's really you," you whispered, touching his face softly, rubbing your thumb over his scar the way you did.

"Oh darling, what did they do to you?" he asked.

"For the past couple of days they've been trying to break me, they want to know who the undercover agent is. I don't know who it is though, so the leader of the Numerals used his quirk on me. He makes the drugs. His quirk makes you see things, makes you feel things. It's like he can burrow into your head and take the images out of your head."

You shuddered in his arms and he frowned as Tokoyami appeared in the doorway.

"Hello (Y/L/N)," he said, smiling at you.

"Hey little bird," you replied, your smile watery with emotions.

"Can Dark Shadow get through those chains?"

"Of course," Tokoyami told Shouto.

"Hello starlight," Dark Shadow said.

"Hi Dark Shadow," you murmured, stroking the sentinent creature before he tore through the chains like paper mache.

You rubbed at your wrists for a moment before you threw your arms around Shouto, burying your face in his neck.

"Sho," you sobbed, tears back full force.

"I've got you darling," he murmured. "I've got you. You're free, you're free."

You nodded, arms tight around him.

Shouto scooped you up, cradling you against his chest, letting you sob as much as you needed to.

The paramedics that had been called to the scene hadn't managed to get Shouto to let go of you, and you showed no signs of letting go of him, so they had managed to do everything they needed to with you clinging to him.

"She'll need physical therapy, not to mention professional trauma therapy. She's malnourished and dehydrated, not to mention suffering from exhaustion and a very severe concussion. Her ankle needs to be further inspected, and there's some internal damage, some cracked ribs that might need to be taken care of, but we can do some more thorough work at the hospital. I assume that you're coming with her?" the paramedic asked when he was finished.

"Yes, I'm her boyfriend," Shouto said.

"Alright, well, you have to let go of her so that we can get her hooked up to an IV and make sure that we don't make her concussion any worse. You really shouldn't have moved her, but there's only so much we can do about that now," the other paramedic told him.

"I-It's okay Shouto," you murmured, pulling away from him enough to wipe your face off.

Your breathing was ragged, and you looked like you wanted to go back to being unconscious, but you allowed the paramedics to get you onto an IV and a bed with a neck supporter.

"Shouto, will you stay with me?" you asked.

"Always darling," Shouto said, gripping your hand.

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

Forthree weeks afterwards, you were stuck in the hospital. Your ankle hadn't been as bad as it had been feared, you back on your feet in a week, and you were undergoing physical therapy.

You were back to a normal diet, and you were going to therapy three times a week. Well, the shrink came to you, but semantics.

Your class visited every day, bringing you your homework and recorded lessons, most of them crying, and more than elated that you were back, safe.

Shouto, after being given permission by your parents, was being counted as a family member, and he had been practically living in the hospital with you.

For the first week, he had refused to leave your hospital room. He had slept curled around you, despite the machines that you had been hooked up to, he had missed class, staying with you and keeping you company.

There was also the reason of him being the only one to be able to calm you down after a nightmare.

There were nightmares where you woke up sweaty and nervous, asking the nurse on the night shift to light the candles that were all around your room.

But there were some that had you hurtling to the small bathroom in your room, hurling the contents of your stomach up. Then there were the ones that got so bad that you locked yourself in the bathroom, hiding yourself away in a corner until someone noticed and got a hold of Shouto.

They were getting better, and you were getting better about people coming up behind you, the touching.

For a few days after being admitted to the hospital, the only person who could touch you was Shouto.

Your mother had been heart broken every time you flinched away from her touches.

Your father had only come once, and he had been carried out by hospital staff after Shouto had tossed him out of your room.

You had retreated into yourself after that, and had come clean to Shouto about some of what had happened while you were being held hostage.

The therapy was helping, and so was the massive support that you were getting from the public and other heroes that had been in similar situations.

Your friends were very understanding of you not touching them as much anymore, and you and Bakugou were closer than ever, since he had experienced something similar.

Today was your first day back in the dorms, and you weren't going to lie to yourself, you were nervous.

The class had slowly starting moving all the gifts that you were receiving into your room, so you were only carrying a small bag.

"Shouto," you began. "You know that you can walk away if I get to be too much right?"

It had been bothering you for a while, that he had stayed with you for so long. It had bothered you that he had given up so much of his time for you, while getting very little from you in return.

"Why would I do that?" Shouto asked cocking his head to the side in confusion.

"I just mean that . . . well, I know that I haven't been the easiest girlfriend to have recently, and I . . . I have more issues than when we first started dating, and things have changed. I'm way more high maintenance than I was. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted a different girl-"

"Stop it right there," he demanded, turning to you.

His eyes were hard, despite his soft tone of voice.

"(Y/F/N), I don't want anyone other than you," he said. "I don't care if you wake me up at three in the morning screaming. I don't care if you sometimes have days where you feel like you can't say anything to me. I don't care if you have days where you can't get out of bed. I love you. I love you more than anything, and those things are not going to stop me from loving you.

"You are one of the strongest women in my life, and I am not letting you go because you have some issues. We've all got issues, hell, I have issues we haven't even touched on. Those things are just another part of you that I get to love. Alright?"

You nodded, blinking back tears.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" you asked softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He waited for a moment before he wrapped his arms around your waist.

You weren't entirely sure why touch was such a problem for you now. Other than the injuries you had received during the fight, nothing had happened to you that would explain it, nothing you could remember anyway.

There had been some retrograde amnesia that went along with your kidnapping, though the doctors had assured you that those memories would come back with enough time.

And they had. There were still a few blank spots, but there weren't nearly as many as there had been.

"All the right things," he murmured, kissing your forehead hesitantly.

"I love you too Shouto," you told him.

He smiled softly at you, then turned towards the doors.

They opened, revealing your friends and a huge banner with your characterized face on it.

"Surprise!" they all said, though they didn't yell it like you had thought they would.

"Welcome home (Y/F/N)," Shouto said, sliding his arm around your shoulders as you both walked out.

Yeah, this was home.

[sunmoonandeddie]

feelings are fatal (24/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 1,137

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing, violence, funeral

masterlist

a/n: Damn. So this is it, the end of FAF. So many of you have stuck with me through when this fic started (literally almost exactly two years ago) and have been waiting for me to get the motivation to finish it. This is the fic that first got people to notice me, to give my writing a chance. I love you guys so, so much. Thanks for being on this journey with me. I hope I lived up to your expectations.

“Jamie!” You called out as you hung up another shirt, looking around the room. The coat of paint you’d slathered on the walls the day before looked good. Really good.

You two had decided to do most of the decorating yourselves, instead of hiring a company. You wanted your home to be entirely you and your family. Bucky and you had ‘bought’ the Stark family cabin off of Pepper, wanting to make it your permanent home. But Pepper never stayed there, finding it too difficult with all the memories she had of Tony there. She didn’t want to drown in the sorrow of losing her husband.

“Yes, malen’kaya?” He called out as he carried in another few boxes. “Are you okay?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his concern, even though you had been completely safe and sound in the cabin.

Especially considering the new state of the art security system.

“I’m okay,” you insisted as he appeared in the doorway, setting the boxes off to the side. “It’s just been at least thirty minutes since you last kissed me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, even though the pink that dusted his cheeks said he was anything but put out by your neediness for his affections. “Oh, yeah? What do I get if I give you kisses?”

You’d be lying if you said you hated how mushy gushy of a couple you two were.

But in all honesty, it was addicting. Being so affectionate and loving with each other even after two years felt like a feat. People kept telling you that you’d come out of the honeymoon phase eventually (everyone except your little makeshift family, of course) and you just kept proving them wrong.

The honeymoon phase never ended if you didn’t let it.

Sure, you two had little disagreements every once in a while. You were both human. But you weren’t having big blowout fights like people made it sound would happen.

“Well… I’ll do that thing you’ve been wanting to try,” you said, letting your voice drop to be deep and sultry as you took a few steps closer to him. You let your fingers trail up your chest as you bit your lip, slowly looking him up and down.

You knew just how to play your boyfriend, how to get him hot and needy for him.

Not that it took much.

Sometimes you just looked at him or asked him if he wanted chocolate chips in his pancakes or not, and he was ready to jump you.

Not that you minded at all.

Bucky’s brows slowly moved closer to his hairline. “You mean… the thing… Number seventy-two?” He asked quietly, his hands moving to your hips.

“Number seventy-two,” you said with a definitive nod.

He brought you in for a deep, earth-shattering kiss. “Don’t mind if I do,” he growled against your lips. “That damn list was the best idea we’ve ever fucking had.”

Ah, yes. The list. The list of things you two wanted to try in bed that you’d compiled and kept adding to.

There’d been some definite winners, including semi-public sex and roleplaying (turns out Bucky really enjoyed playing dress up with you.) But there’d also been some definite losers, such as cockwarming (though that had only failed because James Buchanan Barnes did not have the willpower to have his cock inside of you and not move.)

“But… There was something else I wanted to talk to you about,” he said softly as he kissed down your neck. “Something important…”

A moan fell from your lips as you let your head fall back. “Mmm… Are you wanting to talk about the fact that you’re very happy to see me?” You asked teasingly as you felt something hard—most likely an erection—pressed against your thigh. You were already reaching to yank off his shirt.

“Not quite… though maybe after,” he said softly, pulling back. He looked… tense.

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly as you cupped his face. “Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me…”

“There’s nothing wrong. I’m just nervous,” he said quietly, letting out a weak laugh.

Your head tilted to the side. “Nervous? Jamie, you know you never have to be nervous with me…”

Your heart stopped inside your chest as you watched him sink to the floor on one knee, reaching into his pocket. “Malen’kaya,” he whispered as he looked up at you with sparkling blue eyes. “You know how much I love you. Or at least, I hope you do considering how often I tell you… how often I try my best to show you. And I’ve known that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you since we were on the run.” He couldn’t help but laugh. “You know, under different circumstances, us hopping from country to country could’ve been really romantic.”

“Maybe we’ll have to try it again,” you said with a snort, tears welling up in your eyes. “This time without me dating another man.”

“That does sound like a good plan,” he said, eyes bright. He slowly opened up the black velvet ring box, revealing a glistening diamond ring. “Will you—”

“YES!” You shouted, throwing yourself into his arms and kissing him over and over again. You knocked him over with the strength of your kisses, moaning as you straddled him. “Yes, yes, I will marry you.” Grinning against his lips, you blindly reached for the ring. “You wanna go right now? Find a little chapel? Or maybe straight to the courthouse. Just wanna be yours.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss as he somehow managed to slip the ring onto your left ring finger, before intertwining your fingers and squeezing. “You know if we elope, Pepper and everyone else will throw a fit.”

“We don’t gotta tell them we’re already married. We can have a wedding and just pretend that we were patient enough to wait,” you insisted with a smirk, kissing down his neck as you worked at tugging his shirt off. “I just don’t wanna waste anymore time not being Mrs. James Buchanan Barnes.”

Your fiancé let out a deep moan at the thought, his head falling back as his vibranium hand squeezed your ass. “I didn’t know that a marriage kink was a thing, but I think we might need to add it to the list,” he said.

“I love you,” you murmured as you finally sunk onto his length, the diamond reflecting beautifully in the early winter sunlight streaming in through the windows.

“I love you, too, malen’kaya,” he said, lips trying to catch one of your nipples. He finally succeeded, giving it a teasing bite before he grinned up at you, laughter in his eyes. “Though… I do gotta ask. What the fuck is up with us fucking on the floor of this cabin?”

[arrowflier]

I wish you would write a fic where the gallaghers + kev & vee find out about ian's 87% comment and they all give their opinions and ask why mickey, ian's husband who's been a part of ian's life for nearly eleven years only gets 87% of his heart, if the other 13% goes towards his toxic exes and why since they're not in his life anymore, ian explaining himself and ends with ian taking the comment back so mickey has 100% of his heart

I decided this was perfect for Gallavich Week Day 5: Fix-It! Thanks as always to @gallavichthings for hosting💖. Also on AO3.

Eighty-Seven Percent (Anatomy of a Heart)

It was a normal morning in the Gallagher kitchen.

That is to say, it was chaotic.

Carl and Liam sat across from each other at the narrow table, tossing dry loops of off-brand cereal at each other over Franny’s backpack, which lay open between them. The girl herself was running circles around them both in her pajamas, Debbie chasing after her with a stern face and a frilly dress held in outstretched hands.

“Come on, Franny,” she muttered impatiently as her daughter evaded her again by diving under the table, “just put on the dress!”

Mickey laughed when Franny ran to him instead, trying to hide behind his legs where he stood by the brewing coffeemaker. Ian ruined her attempt by swinging her up into his arms and twirling her around until Debbie snatched her from him, resulting in an angry shriek as Franny writhed in her hold.

“For fuck’s sake, keep it down in here!” Lip hissed, coming in from the living room where Tami had just gotten Fred settled in his play pen. “If you get Fred crying again, I swear I’ll fucking end you all.”

If anything, the kitchen got louder as everyone there chimed in in their own defense.

Mickey just snorted as he grabbed two mugs and got to pouring the fresh coffee. “Good luck with that,” he offered to Lip, amused. “You get one Gallagher going, you get the whole fucking pack.”

Lip glared at him, opened his mouth the say something undoubtedly scathing and most likely regarding Mickey’s place in the family, when Carl laughed and chimed in from the table.

“Funny, man, that’s what Trevor said to me and Ian at the station yesterday.”

The room went quiet.

Or maybe it just seemed that way to Ian, who could see the way his husband’s back immediately tensed at the familiar name, the way he gripped the handle of his mug a little too tight and poured the coffee a little too high before setting down the pot with a hard clack.

“Trevor, huh?” Mickey asked, voice deceptively mild, and Ian winced behind him.

Carl didn’t get the memo.

“Yeah, you remember him, right?” he checked. “He still works at that youth place, came in to post bail for some kid when Ian was bringing by lunch.” He shrugged, tossed a handful of cereal into his mouth. “We chatted a bit,” he mumbled as he chewed.

Mickey gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles going white under his tattoos. “Funny,” he said quietly, “Ian didn’t think to mention that.”

Ian sighed, ignoring the eyes of his family on their quickly unfolding drama. They’d been fighting a lot lately, a lot more than they used to, and today had been shaping up to be better, damn it. Now he had to do damage control again instead of enjoying a quiet day in with his husband.

“We’ve talked about this, Mickey,” he started, a tad bit exasperated. It must have come through in his voice, because Mickey’s shoulders went up. “Trevor’s not a bad guy, and I’m not gonna avoid him if I see him around.”

Mickey released the counter to grab his coffee again, taking a long, scalding swallow. “Right,” he said finally, not looking at Ian. “Not a bad guy at all. Just wanted to leave your ass rotting in jail when you couldn’t be his poster boy anymore, that’s all.”

“Mickey…” Ian warned, but it didn’t stop him.

“Tell me, Ian,” Mickey mused, turning to face him with hard eyes. “How much of that thirteen percent belongs to him?”

Fuck. Not that again.

“Wait, what’s he talking about?” Debbie was the one to ask first, voice cutting through their palpable tension. She’d even stopped trying to force the dress over Franny’s head in the interim, allowing the girl to escape up the stairs unscathed. “What thirteen percent?”

“Oh yeah, he told me about that,” Lip butted in. “Said Mickey got all bent out of shape cause Ian still thinks about his exes, or something, right?”

Ian closed his eyes against the hurt in Mickey’s as his brother revealed that he knew about their squabble. Fuck his family right now, seriously.

“Not quite,” he gritted out, but when he opened his eyes again, Mickey had schooled his face back into disinterest.

“No, that’s just about it,” Mickey confirmed. “Got my nose out of joint because Ian, here,” he gestured at Ian with his mug, ignoring the hot coffee that splashed over the side, “said I only got eighty-seven percent of his heart.”

Someone whistled, low and long. Ian couldn’t tell who.

“It’s not that big a deal,” he insisted yet again. “My whole life is a fucking shrine to you, Mick. If my heart was a room, there’s be posters of you on every fucking wall.” He took a step closer, until Mickey’s mug pressed into his own chest, leaving a wet spot on his shirt.

“You really can’t let the others have a little space in that room? Not even in the bottom drawer of a dresser that nobody uses anyway?”

Mickey was still, and silent. Then he spun around and slammed his mug back down on the counter, shoved past Ian, and stormed off up the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Ian called after him.

“To clean out the goddamn drawers!”

It was quiet in Mickey’s wake, and then—

“Dude, that’s fucked up,” Carl said frankly, and Liam nodded in agreement, eyes wide.

“Did you really say that?” Debbie asked, sounding horrified, and before Ian could answer the back door slammed open.

“Morning neighbors!” Vee greeted as she came through, Kev on her heels. She was holding something, a dish covered in foil, and a carton of juice hung from Kev’s hand.

“We brought you guys some…” Vee trailed off when no one even looked at her, noticing the tension in the room.

“Uh,” she voiced, confused, “what did we miss?”

Carl answered, still looking at Ian in disbelief. “Ian told Mickey he keeps stuff from his exes in a drawer, so Mickey’s up there looking for it.”

“Oh, that’s cold man,” Kev breathed, and Ian exhaled.

“It was a metaphor,” he muttered, and Vee heard him.

“A metaphor for what?” she asked, curious.

“For the thirteen percent of Ian’s heart that belongs to other people,” Debbie revealed, and Vee set down her dish with a clatter.

“You said that to him?” she clarified, and at Ian’s reluctant nod, shook her head and turned to Kev.

“You ever say shit like that to me,” she said firmly, “I’ll cut off thirteen percent of your dick.”

—

A few long minutes later, after he had finally escaped his family’s inquisition about the state of his relationship, Ian made his way upstairs, alone.

When he got to their bedroom, Mickey wasn’t actually going through their things. He was just sitting on their bed, back to the wall, spinning his wedding ring round and round on his finger. Next to him, balanced on their folded blanket, sat the little box with the fancy ones they used in the ceremony just so they wouldn’t have to take theirs off.

Ian’s heart beat harder. That box had been sitting safe in the bottom drawer of their shared dresser.

The one that nobody used.

“Hey,” he said softly from the doorway. Mickey didn’t look up.

“You okay?” Ian asked, and that at least got a response.

“Do I look fucking okay to you?” Mickey returned, eyes on his knees.

He didn’t. Not really. He looked haggard, and upset, his hair spiky where restless fingers had combed through it. Ian couldn’t see his eyes, but he had a feeling they were rimmed in red.

Ian let himself into the room, sat opposite Mickey on the bed with his feet still firmly on the floor. He reached out to trace a finger over the rings in the box, and then the ring on Mickey’s finger.

Mickey let his own hand fall away when he did.

“You know that’s not how I meant it, right?” Ian asked, suddenly desperate to hear Mickey agree. He needed to know that Mickey understood, that just because he remembered his past, it didn’t mean he wasn’t dedicated to his future.

But Mickey just shrugged.

“Not a lot of ways you can mean it,” he said, and shit. Ian had really fucked up this time. “Either I have your whole heart or I don’t,” Mickey continued, “and I don’t. So,” he shrugged again, “whatever.”

Ian took a moment. A long one. He thought of Mickey’s reaction the first time he had said it, when he was mostly just teasing. The way he had been shocked to think that Ian still had fond thoughts for other men. And he thought of his family downstairs, each one more fucked up than the last, all in agreement over the severity of his error.

And to be honest, he still didn’t quite get the uproar. But maybe that was because none of them got his side, either.

“You’re right,” he began, “you don’t.”

Mickey tensed further, pulling away from him on the bed, but Ian wasn’t done.

“You have all the good bits, you know,” he continued. He went to rest a hand on Mickey’s chest, saw his stiffness, and pointed at his own instead.

“You have all four chambers,” he told him. “Atrium and ventricle. You keep my blood moving, keep it useful, keep me alive. And you have my valves,” he added, trailing a finger side to side to point to the right spots as he spoke. “Mitral and aorta, pulmonary and tricuspid.” He smiled. “You keep me going in the right direction.”

Mickey was softening, he could tell, the tension seeping from his limbs as Ian droned on. He kept going anyway.

“You have all my arteries, Mick,” he whispered. “You’re in all my veins. You said I was under your skin, once?” Ian laughed. “Well you’re under my skin, too. And in my muscles, and in my blood.”

“And the others, they’re like…” he hesitated, searched for the right words. Better words than he had used before. “They’re like cholesterol,” he settled on, “plaque. Or…like the scar tissue from a triple bypass, the parts that don’t work anymore.”

Mickey’s lips quirked, despite himself, and Ian counted it as a victory.

“You have a lot a heart surgeries, Gallagher?” he questioned softly, catching on.

Ian smile widened, and he reached out to take Mickey’s hand. This time, Mickey didn’t pull away.

“Maybe a few,” he admitted. “And maybe I’m better for it.”

He lifted Mickey’s hand to his lips, held it there.

“I don’t mind the broken bits,” he told his husband. “The pieces they left behind. Because you pushed through them every time, and made me healthy again.”

Mickey fidgeted, and nudged himself off the wall to settle closer to Ian’s side.

“Alright,” he allowed, “I get it.”

“Do you?” Ian asked earnestly. “Because I want you to, you know.” He dropped Mickey’s hand to hold his face instead, gently stroking a thumb over his cheek. “I want you to know that that thirteen percent, it doesn’t really matter. All that matters are the parts that are you.”

"I chose you, Mickey," he murmured. He reached out blindly for the spare rings in their box on the bed, worked one free. Slipped it onto Mickey's finger without looking away from his eyes. Mickey's hand clenched around it, around Ian's hand, and held tight.

"I married you," Ian added. "Because I love you with every real part of my heart, every little bit that works."

“All eighty-seven percent?” Mickey prods with a soft expression, leaning forward until his nose brushes Ian’s.

“All eighty-seven percent,” Ian confirmed, and kissed him.

[whimsicallyreading]

An angsty one-shot for your day. I stayed up way too late to write this.

CW- drinking

Aelin keeps the letters stacked neatly on her desk.

Each letter is stamped, addressed, and ready to mail. In tiny marks on the back, she writes the date every individual one was written. The envelopes are his favorite shade of green. A deep, pine color that she’d painstakingly scoured every stationary shop to find.

Delicately, Aelin seals the latest envelope and adds it to the growing pile.

My Love,

It’s almost winter here in Orynth. I know it’s your favorite season and you are probably sad to miss out, so I took a Polaroid of the clouds coming in over the staghorns for you.

Do you remember how we’d sit in front of Mistward every year and watch the first snow storm come in over the peeks? We would drink hot chocolate and talk for hours. About our families, our futures, anything and everything. It’s still one of my favorite traditions.

In fact, it’s where I am right now. Writing this letter to you. Just because you are overseas doesn’t mean you get to bail out. I bought two hot chocolates, but I suppose I’ll have to drink yours for you. What a shame.

Writing to Rowan was her weekly tradition since he got deployed. No matter how busy life got, every Friday she wrote him two full pages front to back. Whether she got to sit at her desk or had to scribble against the rusty bench at the bus stop, every inch was covered in her hand writing.

That was her personal rule. They had to be handwritten. Aelin felt it meant more that every piece of the letter was entirely from her. So she keeps a collection of colored pens handy for whenever the urge to speak to her husband grows to be too much.

At the bottom of the last page, next to her signature, Aelin always kisses the paper with red lipstick. Maybe it’s cheesy, but it’s the same shade she wore at their wedding.

You could see the ghosts of the color along his jawline in their favorite photos together. His beaming smile, the smudges of red on his face and the collar of his white dress shirt. A remnant from the happiest day of her life she thought would bring him comfort.

My love,

Winter is here! It’s so cold outside. You would say it’s this frigid every year, but it just feels different this time. Maybe it’s because you aren’t hear to snuggle up with and your side of the bed is empty? You were always so warm.

I keep your slippers by the couch. They are ridiculously huge on my feet, but I swear they still feel like you just walked in them. Your warmth is still there.

You would laugh if you saw me hobbling around the apartment in them. My toes slide all over the place. Truthfully, your feet are atrociously large, dear- Still they remind me of you, so I love them.

Aelin gets home late from work that night.

Humiliated tears sting her cheeks, even as she rubs them away. The feeling of that creep, Cairn’s, hands lingering on her ass.

She was used to fending off handsy patrons. What bothered Aelin is that when she complained to her boss, Erawan, he publicly berated her for instigating the customers.

None of the other waitresses would meet her eye when she looked for back up. Grave, the bartender, sniggered through the entire dressing down. Aelin could still feel their eyes on her skin as Erawan accused her of being provocative.

Rowan would have demanded she quit the job. He would have marched down to the bar and broken Cairn’s face. Possibly even held him back so Aelin could do it herself.

Aelin needs the money, though. Rowan’s accounts were frozen due to some stupid technicality at the bank. Without her paycheck, she would lose the apartment.

Sniffling, Aelin slides her feet into Rowan’s slippers and plops at her desk. It isn’t Friday yet, but she’s desperate to speak to him.

As her hand flows across the paper, Aelin knows she won’t describe the days events to him. He’s under enough stress without her work drama adding to his worries.

My love,

Yulemas is next week. Aedion is in Caraverre with Lysandra and our new nephew. Lorcan and Elide are going up from Perranth to stay with them, but the roads are so frozen in Orynth I may just stay here this year.

Besides, work is busy right now. They need someone to man the place for the people with nowhere to go for the holidays.

Maybe I’ll host a little celebration at the bar. Like we did that one year when we got stuck in the Hostel in Rifthold. We made the best of a bad situation, and it was the first time you told me you loved me. I think I’d like to relive a little of that this year.

I miss you. Please come home.

Aelin lays in her bed the night before Yulemas and sobs.

Ugly, guttural noises spill from her chest and she soaks their pillows with tears. The newest envelope is clutched against her chest, and the building stacks mock her from their spot across the room.

Her heart is so raw. Aelin knew it was a bad idea to count the letters, but there was so many. Curiosity got the better of her, and now she was bleeding for her mistake.

Fifty-six.

A full year of letters she hadn’t been able to send.

Rowan had only ever written her twenty before he was declared missing in action.

A year ago, she’d been hanging bobbles and decorating a tree knowing her husband only had a few weeks left of his tour.

Aelin had painted a welcome home banner, and her whole family made plans to come and spend the holiday with the soon-to-be-reunited couple.

She had his slippers waiting by the door. Rowan’s favorite blanket was laundered and folded on his side of the bed in case he wanted to lay down. Aelin had it on good authority that the bed would be one of the first places they visited when he arrived. Emerys had even given her a mixture of their favorite hot chocolate to make.

Everything was perfectly in place for his return.

That’s what when the soldiers arrived at her door and her world fell apart.

Lorcan came home a week later. He hugged Elide and she cried into his shoulder. Happy tears. So unlike the ones Aelin had been shedding. Her friend beamed ear-to-ear, as the love of her life gathered her into his arms and squeezed.

It was a touching sight, but Aelin could feel the hot knife being twisted in her chest. Elide’s happiness caused her physical pain, and it made her feel so selfish. She didn’t begrudge Lorcan his life, or Elide her joy- Aelin just missed her own husband.

Elide and Lorcan spent Yulemas together. Kissing and holding hands. Lysandra finally announced her pregnancy. Aedion’s expression when he opened the box with the baby onesie inside was priceless. Her cousin whooped and hollered, almost dancing with the prospect of becoming a father.

Aelin smiled. She gave her congratulations and celebrated with her family. They hugged, and laughed. Aedion took care to include her in everything, and she played her part even as she tried to ignore the concerned looks her family exchanged behind her back.

Aelin made it to lunch before she couldn’t take it anymore.

Fenrys was the one to find her having a panic attack on the bathroom floor. She hadn’t even known it was a panic attack. Aelin just assumed the pain of losing her soulmate was finally killing her. The tightening of her chest and the body aches felt enough like a heart attack to be convincing.

He gathered Aelin in his arms and counted breaths with her. His twin brother Connal was lost in the same fight where Rowan had gone down. Fen had seen the whole thing from the cockpit of his plain, and nothing he did could’ve saved them.

He shared his pain, and for the first time Aelin felt like someone understood her.

Fenrys let her lean on him as they excused themselves from the celebrations. They drove to some bar in Caraverre and spent the rest of the day wallowing over whiskey.

Aedion came to collect their drunken asses later that evening. Worry etched into every line of his kind face. It only made her feel ashamed that she’d rained all over their happy day.

He was going to be a father, and she’d forced him to spend his time fretting over her instead of reveling in that news.

Now here she was a year later. Aelin wasn’t going to subject herself to that again. Couldn’t. She wouldn’t force her grief upon anyone else this year, either. Just because she was hurting didn’t mean that everyone else had to suffer with her.

So, as Yulemas Eve came, and before she could finally distract herself with work, Aelin pulled Rowan’s blanket over herself. She’d spritzed it with his cologne, donned his shirt, and pulled his socks over her feet. Aelin did everything she could to feel surrounded by him.

Then, alone in their bed, she watched as the clock ticked down to midnight.

Rowan,

Wherever you are, I hope my words reach you and that you know you aren’t alone. I wish with every ounce of my being that I could trade places with you- would give anything, just to know where you are.

It breaks my heart, to be without you. Every breath seems pointless. I lied in my last letter. The roads aren’t frozen. I’m not needed at work. No one really needs me to be around them. I just couldn’t spend another holiday surrounded by happy people when the other half of my heart is gone from me.

When you come home, I will feel like celebrating again. I’ll wrap my arms around you, and we can make up for lost time. Just please, don’t make me wait too much longer.

Merry Yulemas, my love. We will be together again one day.

Until then, I’ll keep on writing, only so long as you don’t yield.

Sincerely, your loving wife

Aelin

[babymetaldoll]

I just want you (Chip Taylor / Reader)

Requested: Yes

Word counting: 3.5K

Summary: What would it be like to be married to Chip Taylor? Would it include a lot of women trying to hit on him?

Warnings: Cursing, spoilers of 68 Kill.

A/N: Hello, beautiful people! sorry, I've been a little absent here, but writing my series has taken most of my time! Also, I feel a little blocked, and my personal life has been a mess. But, here it is: my first Chip Taylor fic. Have you guys seen 68 Kill? I love that movie, and I love Chip so much. He deserves the world. I hope you guys like this little story!

Masterlist

---

It wasn’t like I didn’t know my husband was handsome, ‘cos you had to be blind not to see his face was made by the gods, and all of his features were simply perfect. I just didn’t know every woman would flirt with him everywhere we were all the time.

And they weren’t even subtle about it. No. They made it very obvious when they looked at Chip each time they stopped by his work. They wanted him.

After all those years together, a part of me had made peace with that. I couldn’t stop them. He was hot, he didn’t want their attention, but he wasn’t rude or anything like it. Chip Taylor was a very polite man who was also very blind to the attention his looks gave him.

Chip owned a small pet sitting business that had started to really take off in the last few months. He had some savings that he used to buy a house when we first started dating. He lived there until we got married, and then we bought a bigger place outside the town. That’s when he decided to turn his old home into his own pet sitting business. And it was a hit. Chip is fantastic with animals. He is great with everybody, but pets just… melt with him. I think they can see the kindness of his soul.

Chip Taylor deserves the best things in life ‘cos he is the best man I’ve ever met. I’ve loved him since the day it took him almost half an hour to walk over and talk to me in the bar we met.

- “Every time a pretty face pops up, my brain turns into a potato- he explained, flustered ‘cos he kept stuttering as he asked for my number.

He was too sweet. Too cute. And he loved me. He had a ring that said so. But again, that didn’t stop most women who met him from flirting with him.

- “Here he is. Little Rascal had a great day today”- Chip walked to the front yard with a french bulldog, who kept barking, trying to get an extra treat from him. I smiled from a safe distance, reading a book sitting on a porch while Chip met with the dog owner. And she was as excited as Rascal was.

- “Hi baby! Did you have a good day today?”- the lady held the leash and caressed her dog’s head a few times before returning her attention fully to my husband.

- “Thank you for taking care of him.”

- “You are very welcome, Kim. It’s my job.”

- “No, it’s more than that. Rascal hates strangers, and he has been an angel with you since day one. I tell you, Chip, you are someone special.”

I know my husband blushed, ‘cos he is terrible with compliments. So he just shook his head and scratched the back of his neck. His shirt raised, showing his very toned midsection. And I swear, I had to force myself to stay put on that chair, ‘cos the way that woman looked at my husband was enough to make my blood boil. I wanted to run over and push her away from him. I wished I could tell her to get her dog and get the fuck out of our property.

But no. I didn’t. Instead, I tried to keep on reading, which was honestly impossible. But at least I didn’t move from my chair. I just stared at that scene, trying to control the urges of smashing that woman’s head against her car.

- “So, do you have plans for the weekend?”- the woman asked him, smiling flirtatiously

- “Not really.”- not the smartest answer, I’ll give you that.

- “Great! that means you can’t say no! I am having a small get-together at my place this Friday. You should totally come.”

- “Thank you, Kim, but...”

- “I’ll text you my address. I’m not taking no for an answer!”

Chip was awkward, he felt pushed to say he’d go, but I knew he didn’t want to. If he did, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Besides, he wouldn’t usually make plans without asking me first. A part of me wanted to run and help him out of that awkward situation, but I knew he had to do it on his own. Yes, he was a grown-up, but after knowing everything he had gone through before we met, a big part of me wanted to take care of him constantly. I didn’t want anything wrong ever to happen to Chip. He didn’t deserve anything bad.

- “Thanks, Kim, really, but… I think I should ask my wife first”- he whispered and smiled kindly at the woman, who didn’t hide the disappointment from her face. I have the feeling she never actually saw the ring on my husband’s finger.

- “Wife? I had no idea you were married, Chip”- he chuckled and nodded as the woman tried to act normal again. But she couldn’t.

- “Yes, I’ve been married for the last ten months.”

- “Just ten months? Well, she is a lucky woman…”

- “Thank you”- Chip petted Rascal’s head and added- “But I am sure I am the lucky one to have her. I still can’t believe she actually married me.”

- “Come on, Chip! Any woman would be happy with a man like you.”

And that was when that woman crossed the line and rubbed my husband’s arm for longer than necessary. He froze and looked at her, not knowing how to get out of that situation. Chip is a sweet soul who still has some significant issues when it comes to setting boundaries.

I jumped from my chair and walked over quickly, with a big smile on my face. The woman turned to me and raised an eyebrow, clearly not knowing who I was.

- “Hello, sorry to interrupt you, boo, but it’s getting late for our date.”

We didn’t have a date that night. But well, now we did.

Chip frowned, confused, and waited for me to explain a little more what I was saying. But, instead, I just smiled and held his hand, making sure that the woman’s hand was as far from him as possible.

- “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N), Chip’s wife.”- I said and waved.

- “Kimberly, nice to meet you.”

- “So you are Rascal’s mom. He is a sweetheart”- I kneeled and petted Rascal’s head behind his ears, right where I knew he liked it. Kim just nodded and smiled.

- “Ok, we should go, it’s getting late. Bye Chip”- she waved quickly, walking to her car. My husband said goodbye and wrapped an arm around my waist as I stood by his side and rested my head on his shoulder.

- “We are not going to her “little get-together,” by the way”- I whispered, and he chuckled.

- “Good, ’cause I didn’t want to go either. I actually had plans for the weekend, but I didn’t want to discuss them with her.”- I looked at him, raising an eyebrow, and felt his big hands caressing the lower part of my back.

- “Which plans?”

- “I’m planning to stay in bed with my wife the whole weekend, watch movies, kiss her a lot, and maybe asking for pizza.”

- “You had me at ˝stay in bed,” Chip Taylor”- I giggled and kissed his cheek- “She was flirting with you, by the way.”

- “I don’t care if she tried to flirt. I only have eyes for you, moonbeam”- I chuckled at the cheesy nickname and felt his lips on mine. They felt warm and soft and filled with love.

But it wasn’t always so easy to shake off the thoughts of a woman flirting with Chip. Unfortunately, sometimes it was harder to remain calm. Some women were more aggressive with their flirting. Some were actually way hotter than me, and sometimes that makes you doubt yourself.

I didn’t know Liza or Violet, so I never knew if they were prettier, more intelligent, or sexier than me. I couldn’t compare or compete with them either, ‘cos they were dead. But some random women made my life a little more challenging from time to time.

- “Chip? Chip Taylor?”- a soft woman’s voice interrupted our conversation and forced my husband to turn around, feeling now also her hand on his shoulder. We were at our favorite bar, having a drink, celebrating the end of the week and another successful month of Chip’s small business. We were chatting about our days, sitting at our usual table, when interrupted.

- “Anna Davis? Hi! How are you?! Long time no see!”- my husband stood up and hugged the stranger like long-lost friends reunited. I had never heard of any “Anna” before. I was trying to remember if I did.

- “I haven’t seen you in ages! What are you doing here?”- Anna said and laughed- “I can’t believe it’s really you!”- and so, they hugged again.

- “Hi”- I waved from the table and smiled at the two of them as they moved apart.

- “I’m so sorry, babe. (Y/N), this is Anna, my neighbor when I was in middle school. Anna, this is (Y/N), my wife.”

- “Hi, nice to meet you”- she shook my hand and smiled at me for a second, and then turned to my husband again and continued catching up.

Chip looked happy and excited to see her. He didn’t have many friends, he still didn’t know how to trust most people, probably why he decided to work with animals instead. He had a good relationship with Jim, the boy who helped him clean, and with a few classmates from the community college. But that was it.

- “I can’t believe you are here!”- Chip was beaming- “Are you with someone?”

- “My friends were leaving. I’m visiting one of my best friends, who moved here a few years ago. But she has to work tomorrow morning, so she wanted to go home.”

- “Do you wanna sit with us for a while?”- Chip asked her and turned to me smiling. Of course, I couldn’t say no. Well, he didn’t actually ask; he just looked at me, and I moved my chair to make room for one more on the table.

- “I would love to! Thank you!.”

I loved the idea of meeting Anna, at first. I didn’t know many people from my husband’s past, basically just his parents. The fact she was his friend growing up sounded amazing, and it meant I could finally talk with someone who knew him when he was a kid and could tell me more stories about my husband.

But Anna had other plans. My husband blinded Anna. She basically ignored me, and he was so excited to see her and talk to her, he didn’t even notice I was being left out of the whole conversation.

At first, it was ok. Chip wanted to catch up with Anna, know what she was doing with her life, and all that. So he asked for her parents and family. Apparently, they were pretty close growing up.

- “Remember each Friday we had a secret sleepover?”- she asked and laughed. My husband nodded and sipped his drink.

- “Yeah! I would sneak into your house and watch a movie.”

- “You know, my parents knew you were coming to hang out after curfew. They just didn’t think it was wrong”- she added and laughed- “I’m just glad they didn’t know about the day we tried smoking for the first time!”

Chip burst into laughter, and so did Anna. I just stared at them and sighed. Neither of them explained the story. They were just too caught up in each other to even notice I was there.

Yes, I was feeling jealous of Chip’s long-lost childhood friend. I knew it made no sense, but somehow, he completely forgot I existed when she was there. Yes, it was probably ‘cos he was surprised to bump into her at a bar on a random night after so many years.

But the more I looked at her, the more I realized she was gorgeous. She had long legs, beautiful golden hair, green eyes. The girl could go to a freaking beauty pageant and win it. Besides, Anna wasn’t acting friendly, if you ask me. She kept rubbing my husband’s arm, repeating how excited she was to see him, and saying over and over again how good he looked… it was a little too much.

- “I tell you, Chip, you haven’t changed a bit!”- Anna smiled and looked into his chocolate eyes, and I swear she nearly sighed. I couldn’t blame her. He is dreamy. But he is my husband, and it felt wrong.

- “Neither have you,”- he added and turned to me for a second. I looked kindly into his eyes, knowing he was happy, and that was enough to make me feel happy too.

- “Can I get you another drink, moonbeam?”- he asked me and stood up.

- “Yes, penguin, please”- Chip nodded and blushed as I called him by his favorite nickname and then turned to Anna.

- “Another?”

- “Sure!”

And suddenly, we were on our own.

- “So, how long have you been married?”- Anna asked me and looked at me innocently.

- “A little over ten months.”

- “Just married! Congratulations. You must still be living the honeymoon!”

- “Yes, we are.”- I giggled and turned to look at Chip, waiting for our drink at the bar. It wasn’t hard being stuck at the honeymoon phase with him. Every day, he made every day feel like the first day we were together, even after three years of dating and ten months married.

- “We used to date when we were kids,”- Anna simply said and chuckled - “It was very childish, but I was his first kiss.”

- “Really?”- I smiled at her, making my best not to look jealous at all. “That’s so cute!”

- “He is adorable. He was the sweetest boy growing up.”- Anna added and kept her eyes on Chip. But for a few seconds, I could see the longing in them, and my struggle not to show how jealous I was got a little harder.

- “So when was the last time you saw Chip?”- I asked and kept my eyes on her, reading her expressions. It took her a few extra seconds to stop staring at him to turn and look at me.

- “When I moved out of town when I was fifteen.”- she sighed and chuckled- “Seems it was a lifetime ago.”

- “Ok, here are your drinks,”- Chip appeared and smiled- “Plus, I ordered some more nachos, ‘cos I’m getting hungry.”- I chuckled and held his hand upon the table, playing with his fingers between mine. Chip looked at me and opened his mouth to say something when Anna interrupted him.

- “Remember that summer you broke your arm ‘cos you fell from the tree in Shawn’s backyard?”

And my husband laughed, forgetting what he was going to tell me.

I stood in front of the mirror and tried to fix my makeup. I looked tired. I was tired. It was Friday night, and I wasn’t twenty-three anymore. I was weary, and all I could think of was getting into my bed with my husband and getting good twelve-hour sleep.

But he and Anna were still talking and having a blast together, remembering the good old times. Now, if you ask me, I had the feeling Anna wanted to do more than just talking to my husband, but he was oblivious to any of her intentions. That was until I walked out of the bathroom and saw Anna’s arm wrapped around Chip as they were dancing.

She was dancing with my husband, and he was laughing. Ok, that hurt. It hurt a lot.

I sat at our table and drank what was left of my drink. I stared at them for a moment and evaluated my options. I could storm out of that place, maybe make a scene and yell. But no, I trusted my husband. I knew he wasn’t trying to hurt me or even cheat on me with her. No. He was naive and a little awkward. But by the way Anna’s hands moved on his body, clearly, she wasn’t naive at all.

- “Oh! I’m sorry!”- Anna said laughing when they reached back our table- “I just asked Chip to dance with me ‘cos I love that song.”

- “That’s ok”- I smiled at her and held my husband’s hand tight upon the table.

- “But Chip is such a great dancer! He really knows how to move!”- Anna was asking for it. She wanted to be smacked. But I behaved.

- “He really does,”- I answered and smiled

- “I hope you are not jealous!”- I turned to her and frowned, pretending to be confused

- “Of course not! Why would I?”

- “I don’t know! It’s just that… he was mine way before he was yours and…”

- “He isn’t mine”- I cut her off, and for once, my voice stopped being nice and friendly- “And he is definitely not yours. He is not a dog, Anna, he is a person, and the only owner of his soul is himself.”

Anna stared at me in silence, and Chip wide opened his eyes, surprised by my tone of voice.

- “What I’m trying to say is that… I met him when…”

- “I know what you are trying to imply Anna, you’ve been trying to do it ever since you sat at our table. You feel like you need to prove something, but you don’t. Really.”

Chip held my hand tight and kissed it sweetly. He didn’t say anything to me. He just looked at me with apologetic eyes as I cut him a short smile.

- “Ok, I think I better go now”- Anna stood up and just waved- “It was great seeing you again, Chip.”

My husband smiled and waved as Anna walked away. Then, when he was sure she had left the place, he turned to me. I sipped what was left of my drink and sighed.

- “Sorry if I was rude”- my words were a whisper only Chip could hear.

- “No, moonbeam. You weren’t rude at all. I’m sorry.”

- “Chip Taylor, you didn’t do anything wrong”- I leaned and kissed his lips softly, cupping his face with both hands.

- “I feel like I did.”

- “No, boo, really. She was… clearly trying to get under your belt.”

- “I shouldn’t have danced with her, but she pushed me...”- Chip excused himself and kissed my hand again, as I still held his face and caressed her cheeks with my thumbs.

- “Yeah, you should work on that “No” thing a little harder,”- I whispered and chuckled.

- “Sorry if she made you feel jealous. I had a huge crush on her when we were kids.”

- “She said she was your first kiss”- Chip opened my mouth, but no word came from it for a few seconds.

- “Funny, I told her that just ‘cos she said I was her first kiss, but actually my first kiss was with her cousin Alice.”

I couldn’t hold back the laughter as Chip looked at me with guilty eyes as if that was the biggest secret he had about his past.

- “Well, I bet if I run, I can still catch her!! I need to tell her the news!!”- I said and stood up, just to feel Chip’s arms around me, protectively.

- “Let her think that. We all know who all my kisses belong to now.”

Chip held me tight and close to him as his lips rubbed mine slowly. I felt my head spin as his tongue slowly touched mine, deepening the kiss. I couldn’t help but moan at the sensation of Chip’s sweet and passionate kiss. He made sure to make me feel how much he loved him every time he kissed me. In a weird way, Chip’s kisses always felt like our first and last. I think he was always trying to show me his feelings, ‘cos his previous trauma taught him he didn’t know when a kiss could be the last.

- “I love you so much, Mrs. Taylor,”- he whispered, and the title made my knees feel weak- “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

- “I love you more, Mr. Taylor,”- I replied and kissed his lips sweetly one more time- “And just between you and me, I am completely yours.”- I confessed and giggled nervously.

- “I am yours too, moonbeam. You own my heart, and I only want you.”- he whispered and kissed me one more time.

- “You just want me?”- I repeated, and he nodded, looking into my eyes filled with love- “Of all those women who wanna do you, you just want me?”

- “Which women?”- he asked me, clearly confused

- “A lot of women out there keep giving you the fuck eyes.”

- “What?! No way”

- “Do you think Kim invited you to her house for a small get-together? She wanted to get under your belt, penguin.”

- “But I am your penguin, that means I am not looking for any other woman. I just want you.”

- “Just me,”- I repeated again, and he nodded.

- “Just you, Mrs. Taylor”- I sighed, pleased, and closed my eyes for a second “Wanna go home?”

- “You still have to dance with me,”- I pouted, and he held my hand.

- “Whatever my wife wants.”

--

General Taglist

@spenxerslut @ash19871962 @babebenhardy @meowiemari @archer561 @all-tings-diego

[comfortwriting]

A Summer Secret Final Part - F.W

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Masterlist, Writing Prompt Masterlist, Requesting Rules

A/N: First of all, I want to say THANK YOU  for the love and excitement you have shown this mini-series - I have LOVED every single moment writing it!

Secondly, I would like to apologise for my absence, my health has been a struggle and because the NHS is already stressed out here in the UK, I'm struggling to pay for the private health care I desperately need; but I am back!

Prompt 47: "I love you, why can’t you just accept it?” You cried.

Warnings: Swearing, 18+, mention of eating and food, mention of alcohol.

Swallowing down the Christmas turkey coated in gravy, you refused to look up from your plate, unless a member of the family - when anyone other than Fred - started to tell a story, express thanks, or comment on the Christmas dinner.

You weren't in the mood to eat, you felt sick, you didn't even want to be sat here knowing that Fred couldn't be with you; looking back, you wished you ripped up his letter and avoided the joke shop altogether.

"I've got to say, Y/N," Percy called out, catching your attention "your hard work at the ministry isn't going unnoticed!"

Looking up bravely from your plate, you smiled at Percy, quickly taking a sip from your cup of mulled wine - everyone's eyes - especially Fred's - glued on you.

"Thank you," you smiled, setting down your cup "I'm starting to get the hang of it, really."

Percy smiled, "I'm happy to hear that, it's a pleasure working with you."

Fred shot Percy a look, almost as if he was telling him to back off and Molly didn't let it go unnoticed, it added to her list of worries after seeing you and her son argue outside, your tears, him letting you storm off; what the hell is going on?

Sitting in the large front room, you, Gideon, and Fabian sat together, opening your presents with everyone else. Tearing the shiny red wrapping paper, your eyes widened at the burnt amber jumper with your large initial in the middle.

"It's about time you got one!" Gideon smiled.

Fabian nodded "Looks like Grandma Weasley approves of you!"

You searched the front room from Molly but you couldn't find her sitting next to her husband, laughing with her sons, or hugging her daughter inlaws.

"How could you be so bloody stupid!" Molly hissed under her breath.

Fred opened his mouth to speak, but Molly shut him down.

"She's eighteen! Same age as your nephews! What were you thinking?!"

Fred's guilt started to boil inside of him, his heart weeping - pleading for understanding and forgiveness - his head screaming at him and telling him off.

"I was thinking that I might be in love with her," Fred answered quietly, the memories you shared flooding back to him.

Molly swallowed hard "And are you in love with her?"

Fred took your hand in his, the other resting on your waist, your eyes swimming in each other’s, your steps slow and gentle mirroring his.

Climbing into bed with Fred, he pulled you into his warm, strong arms, making you feel safe and protected.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he said, falling asleep, pecking a small kiss on your head.

“Goodnight, Freddie,” you replied, closing your eyes, engulfing in his warmth.

"Yeah, I am." Fred answered, "But she isn't in love with me, and I ended it before it could get serious." He lied.

Fred walked out of the kitchen, his mother following behind, the two of them finally joining you all by the fire, wrapping paper covering the carpet.

Molly's eyes widened and sparkled at the sight of you in the jumper, she pulled you into a warm, motherly embrace.

"I'm so glad you like it, dear."

"I love it, Molly." You smiled, your eyes locking with Fred's.

Now boxing day, everyone was tired out and hungover, sleeping in until the leftovers from Christmas dinner brought them to the kitchen.

You woke up early, well, you had been awake all night, hurting, and you wanted some time alone to enjoy a cup of coffee to wake you up.

"Y/N!" Molly chirped, "you're up early!" she smiled.

Molly walked into the kitchen and poured herself a cup, sitting down at the table.

"Yeah," you laughed lightly "I haven't really slept."

Molly stayed quiet for a moment, a concerned look splashed across her face, her eyes drowning in the coffee.

"What happened between you and Freddie?" she asked, finally looking at you "You've not been the same."

You sighed, brushing your hair from your face and started to explain.

Molly learnt that it was much more than a simple rejection, the forbidden romance had been going on for a long time, her son pulling you close and then pushing you away when you needed him most.

"I'm in love with him," you cried "and I want to be with him-"

Before you could continue, Molly's face dropped, her mouth opened and her eyes fixed upon someone standing behind you.

Turning around in your seat, Fred stood tall, staring at you, shaking his head before storming out of the house.

"I'm sorry-" you left the table and followed him.

Now was your chance.

"I can't believe you!" Fred shouted angrily, "Making me out to be the villain!

You scoffed, catching up to him, "I'm not! I told the truth, Freddie!"

"To my own mum!"

"She asked me what happened!"

"And you couldn't lie about it?!"

"I love you, why can’t you just accept it?” You cried, standing still, choking on your tears.

Fred stopped in his tracks, finally turning to face you, his face hard like stone.

"Because it's wrong!" He shouted again, "You know it is!"

"What makes it wrong?" you challenged him "I'm an adult now, it isn't against the law!"

Fred shook his head, looking frustrated and tired, he too had been up all night, hurting.

"But it's still wrong!" Fred shot you down "you are still too young!"

"Fred-"

"We can break up and it won't be too late for you to start over, I don't want you to waste the best years of your life with me!" His voice now cracking.

You shook your head "You're not even considering the flip side! We could be happy together, please Fred, take a chance on me!"

Fred didn't say anything, his eyes searching yours for a life where you would be happy without him - then remembering that in another life you would be married to Draco's son, against your will; unhappy and lost.

"And if these are the best years of my life, please let me waste them with you." You croaked.

Fred slowly inches closer towards you, his stone face crumbling away, his eyes glassy and his face pale.

"What if I don't want you to waste it on me?" Fred asks softly, his hand now resting against your tear-stained face.

"It doesn't matter," you replied, "if I can't love you from up close, I'll be loving you from afar, wasting these years on you anyway."

Fred shook his head, a smile creeping upon his face.

"Do you want to waste my time, Freddie?"

Fred nods his head, "I do, Y/N," and his soft lips slowly and gently brush upon yours.

Angelina freaked at the sight of you both kissing through the window.

"George, what the bloody hell-"

George shushed his wife, a huge smile forming on his face - Molly smiling too.

"That's why it never happened," George muttered "She was the one had been waiting for all along."

taglist: @alwaysnforeverfangirl @horrorxweasley @xmalfoyweasleyx@onlyfreds @lucymfer @holyheadharpies99 @uniquebelievercrown @becks7401 @opalsheart @amwitherspoon @whatsup-200@avatarkanemi @manuosorioh @lina1945 @freddiemylovelg@reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @pottahishotasf @themoonis-beautiful-tonight @enya-2004 

[manonblaqkbeak]

How We Met

here it is, my last fic for rowaelin month! thank you so much to everyone that’s read, liked and commented on my fics, it’s been so much fun reading and writing these last four weeks! i’m glad to know that i’m not the only one that is in dire need of more rowaelin content (srsly, i would pay sjm a truck load of money for a strictly rowaelin book bc i miss them sm)

here’s part 4 for the little series i had going on. i was so tempted to make this an angst piece but held back lol.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

cw: none

1.8k words

enjoy and thank you again!!! :) 💕💕💕💕

Gathering the ingredients for the cake that she and Ophelia were going to make for Rowan, Aelin plopped them down on the kitchen counter and tied her and her six year old daughters hair back. Even in the kitchen light, Ophelia's hair was a vivid shade of silver and when she turned to look at her mother, the golden ring in her eyes were just as bright.

“Up, mama!” Ophelia asked, pointing to the step ladder that Olive made for her little sister in her woodshop class at school. Getting it off from atop the fridge, Aelin and Ophelia started their baking session for today. It wasn't often that Aelin baked cakes from scratch but it wasn't every day that her firstborn turned sixteen—not that Aelin could really comprehend that her Olive was sixteen—but Aelin wanted to do this for her, wanted to make something special.

She hoped that it wasn't going to taste as bad as the last cake she baked. Rowan had been sick afterwards and didn't go to work the next day.

That was five years ago, so surely with gaining wisdom as people said when others got older, her baking skills grew too.

“Where did everyone go?” Ophelia asked, her little tongue poking out as she helped Aelin sift the flour.

“To get dinner for tonight. We're having Ollie's favourite.” Which was cuisine from the Southern Continent, there was a restaurant that specialised in the spicy food, and Aelin couldn't wait—she and Rowan often tried to recreate their favourite recipes, but it was never right, so Olive wanted to have the genuine stuff for her birthday and not her parents shoddy attempts.

Not that Aelin could blame her.

They continued making the chocolate cake, Ophelia babbling on about her day at school, when her little one asked, “How did you and papa meet?”

Aelin blinked at the sudden question, but answered it nevertheless. “At the grocery store.”

Ophelia furrowed her brows, and with the way her nose scrunched up, she looked so much like Rowan that it made her heart sing. When Aelin first realised that she was pregnant, she was nervous, they had only been married for seven months and while they spoke about having a child of their own, she didn't think it would happen so quickly—but Rowan's enthusiasm melted away her fears. She would never forget his tears of joy when she showed him the pregnancy test, his beaming smile when they heard her heartbeat for the first time. Aelin would walk through hell, as long as Rowan was by her side, or waiting for her at the end.

It wasn't always perfect, however, they had their ups and downs like every long-term couple, they had moments where it felt like they were walking on tightrope, either because of their own personal issues or marriage issues, or when Egan was fourteen and completely lashed out at Aelin, accusing her of replacing his mother—but she worked with her son, telling him that she had never intended to do that, that Lyria would always be the woman that brought him into the world, and that Aelin was raising him. Her heart broke in two at his pain, but she understood, he grew up with photos and stories of Lyria.

Or when they had the awkward conversation when Olive was eleven and asked why she didn't look like Rowan, and Aelin had explained her story, about Sam being her biological father, but he had given them space for Rowan to raise her instead. That had lead to brooding silences and confusion, but otherwise, Olive still saw Rowan as her dad, but she did ask from time to time about Sam, what he was like and what he was doing (the last update Aelin received from him via email that his wife was pregnant with their second child. Aelin was so happy for him that he was able to have a family, a feat that was made easier since Arobynn had been dead for years by this point) and that she would like to meet him properly one day; Aelin had kept that to herself, not wanting to tell Sam in case Olive changed her mind—Aelin hoped that she wouldn't.

Overall, their life together was what she needed, she went to bed each night loved and fulfilled. It was better than what she might have had with Chaol all those years ago, she was fairly certain that if she had married him, it wouldn't have been a long marriage.

“How did you meet at the food store?” Ophelia asked, her brow still furrowed as she and Aelin stirred the cake batter. It surprisingly smelled good.

“I needed something from a high shelf,” Aelin said, “and I couldn't reach it. Your papa was only a few feet away from me, so I asked him to get it for me.” She might have also subtly ogled him as his shirt exposed his tanned skin, and Aelin had damned near swooned at the sight of his six pack.

“Did you get married at the food store?”

Aelin laughed at the question. “No, we got married at the beach. And then you arrived not long afterwards.” Sometimes they wanted another, but things financially were going so well that they didn't want to jeopardise that by adding another mouth to feed.

“Can you have another wedding?” Ophelia asked, looking at her mum with wide eyes. “So I can go? Please?”

“I'll talk to your daddy about it, but I like the sound of that.” Kissing her daughters forehead, they continued. Just as they were putting the cake in the oven and the icing mix in the fridge, the front door opened and three booming voices infiltrated the house and the mouth watering goodness of food.

Aelin's eyes widened at the amount of food that Rowan piled on the table. It looked like they were feeding a small army and not a family of five.

Ophelia helped her older brother set the table, Egan ruffing her hair as he recounted their little adventure to the restaurant.

As they sat down, Aelin mentioned Ophelia's request. Rowan pretended to mull it over as their daughter pleaded, giving her best puppy dog eyes. It didn't take for Rowan to relent—he really had trouble saying no to her—saying that a second wedding was a great idea.

Ophelia squealed in delight and squealed even more when food was placed in front of her (she was very much like Aelin in that regard).

“How did the conversation of another wedding start?” Rowan asked as they all started eating.

“Phia here wanted to know how we meet.”

Olive snorted. “Yes, the ever romantic story of meeting in the toilet paper aisle.”

“It was not the toilet paper isle!” Aelin protested. “It was the cereal aisle.”

“At least you kids have inherited my manners,” Rowan said, “your mother didn't even ask nicely. She just came over to me and said, 'You're tall, could you get that box for me?'” It had taken him a moment to realise he had been spoken to, too focused on deciding what box of porridge to get when Aelin showed up, wearing a faded band shirt and shorts, pointing to the box of cereal that had far too much sugar to be healthy. He had said 'yes' because it was the nice thing to do, and had stayed behind, talking to her for so long in the aisle that his vanilla ice cream had started to melt.

It was the best decision in his life back then, he never thought he would have gained a friend in the grocery store—and that the friend would become his wife.

“I have manners. I said, 'Excuse you' first before I told you what I needed.”

“That's not really using manners there, ma,” Egan said, smiling as poked her tongue out. He looked so much like Lyria that it was almost scary—he still loved flowers and plants too, and was currently studying to become a florist and then one day horticulture. The backyard was full of flowers and plants thanks to him, making into a little wonderland instead of the barren plain it used to be.

“I did say 'thank you' afterwards.”

“You said 'thanks',” Rowan interjected, laughing as Aelin threw a chunk of her flatbread at his head. Ophelia's cute laughter rent through the air.

“It's the same thing!”

“If you say so, love,” Rowan muttered, his lips twitching. Aelin rolled her eyes in the dramatic way Rowan was used to, but he saw the mirth behind the movement.

“Like I said Phie, it's very romantic,” Olive said drily, sounding very much like Rowan. She had even inherited his scowl, which she was wearing now as she sniffed at the air. “Is something burning?”

Aelin had never run so fast as she did right then, the kitchen filling with smoke as she took in the blackened cake. Swearing viciously under her breath, Aelin chucked the cake into the bin, apologising to Olive as she did so.

“It's okay, mum, dad got me an ice-cream cake earlier today anyway.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at her husband, who simply gave her an innocent smile in answer.

Rejoining her family, they talked well into the night, helping Aelin to forget her failed baking attempt. Ophelia asked more questions about their time in the grocery store and how that moment lead to friendship, to pining for the other without realising it, to a life together.

And to think, Aelin almost didn't go to the grocery store that day.

Rowan thanked the gods that he had remembered at the last moment that he had no porridge left, otherwise, he might not have met Aelin at all. Might not have had this life, this family. Part of him would always be sad that things had gone so wrong with Lyria, and he would always miss and love her. But he learned in therapy that it was good to have a life, and Rowan was glad that he heeded that advice.

He thanked the gods all the time.

And thank the rutting gods he did right now for the umpteenth time that Aelin deemed him tall enough to get her food for her, to stay in that aisle with him as they got to know each other.

Rowan was a very happy man indeed as he and Aelin went to bed that night, the smiles still on their faces at Olive's unrestrained joy at the sight of the car they spent weeks looking at second-hand dealerships at, hunting for the perfect car for their daughter.

Thank the rutting gods for all those moments in the past, present, and future.

Rowan couldn't wait to marry her again, and neither could Aelin.

Life was good.

[gaysimpsstuff]

Flightless Birds Chapter Three; Where Birds Belong

Chapter One Here

Chapter Two Here

Chapter Four Here

Chapter Five Here

Summary: After visiting Kouten in the hospital, Y/n gets more and more ‘gifts’ from their stalker. But what are they supposed to do when it gets to be too much? Make a huge mistake, that’s what.

Word Count: 2.4K Words

Warnings: cursing, intrusive thoughts, mentions of masturbation, unwanted sexual letters, threats, police officers, implied drugging

Other: the first half of this chapter was meant to be in the previous chapter, but since Tumblr is a bitch I couldn’t do that and it was pushed here. 

Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @cathy8taffy @1small-frogs @catcherisvibin @waffleareniceandfluffy @mandalorian-baby-bird @theblueslytherin @hawksadmirer @assassinslittlesister @deepcollectorphantom (lemme know if you wanna be added to or removed from the taglist)

Numb. 

Was that the right word to describe how you were feeling?

Your heart was hammering away in your chest, and your whole body felt light as a feather.

Your head was foggy, and you felt like the world beneath you was shifting, tumbling around like the tectonic plates of your life were slamming and crashing into each other.

When you arrived at home, there was another ‘gift’ waiting for you. You picked it up and brought it inside. You knew you should probably just ignore all the packages and throw them away, but you just couldn’t.

Why? Why must your curiosity be satiated like this?

Today, it was a teddy bear. A red string was wrapped around its neck. You sighed, setting it on the nightstand with the other ‘gifts.’ 

More and more gifts started to arrive over the next week and a half. Clothes you’d expressed interest in, small shiny things, key-chains, and a couple more dead animals. You were sick and tired of it, and you were stressed out of your mind.

You hadn’t slept in days, you were hardly eating, your weird stalker had started leaving notes talking about you. They knew things about you that they shouldn’t know, it was getting to be too much. You felt heavy and cotton-headed. 

Calls from unknown numbers appeared every day now, and most of them included you just saying ‘hello?’ Into the phone until the caller hung up.

You were so tired, and so freaked out. 

Paranoia flooded your mind about your stalker breaking into your house and hurting you. 

But you felt so selfish. All your stalker was doing was creeping you out. You hadn’t actually been hurt yet, however Kouten was in the fucking hospital! He had almost been killed and you were worried about a few creepy notes.

How much of a horrible person were you?

You had one comfort; him. 

Izanagi.

You’d been spending less and less time at your flat, and more time with Izanagi. You spent every other night at his house, and you’d gotten so used to sleeping in the same bed as him that you felt you couldn’t sleep without his gentle touches and soft breaths.

Everything about him calmed you, his gentle green eyes, the constellation of freckles on his cheeks, that one tooth in his mouth that was twisted to the left, the days when he forgot to do laundry and you had to fold his clothes, you loved it all.

Your feet hit the pavement too hard as you approached your home. The stray tabby cat of your neighborhood dashing away from your front door as you approached.

You looked down, exhausted.

There was a rectangle of white on your welcome mat, your name printed in the fancy kanji of your stalker’s handwriting.

You slowly lifted it off of the ground, entering your home. Everything was quiet…

Too quiet.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, flinching at the sound of the mattress creaking under your weight. Slowly, you peeled open the envelope, unfolding the letter. Your eyes scanned down the words, nervous.

Dear Y/n.

You’ve been getting all my presents, right? Gosh I do hope you enjoy them. I can’t believe I’m finally writing you a letter! It’s so exhilarating, you know? 

I’ve never felt like this before, ever. Nothing even came close. God Y/n, I’m so in love with you! Do you know? I’ve been courting you this whole time! We’re birds of a feather, both lazy as fuck but so vulnerable.

I wish I didn’t have to hurt Yuu like I did, but that little bitch had to die. Unfortunately he survived, how tragic.

You stopped reading looking up for a moment. You were right! Your stalker had been connected to Kouten’s attack! That… didn’t feel very nice. You thought you’d feel better about it, but now you just felt sick.

It was your fault Kouten was hurt.

I could understand he was close to you, I hated that. I would have gone for Fujikawa, but he’s surprisingly cautious. You’d think he’d be more reckless, being as fucking stupid as he is, but nooo. 

I’ll have mercy on him, I’m sure it’d just make you upset to see him dead anyways. But I swear, go near him again and I’ll kill him. 

I don’t wanna talk about that in my first real letter with you, so instead I’ll just talk about you.

How breathtaking you are.

How fucking gorgeous you are.

Y’know, you really are fucking amazing, you think I didn’t see? You really took the time to appreciate yourself yesterday, I think that was your way of saying you loved me back! Touching yourself… oh fuck you looked so hot.  Think I didn’t hear? I really wish I was there, fucking you the way you need. I’d give you everything you’ll ever need. You won’t need anything but me. 

Baby you’ve just given me my next month’s worth of masturbation material.

Remember, I love you!

    -Your future husband

No. Fuck fuck no. Gross get out drop it throw up rip it to shreds hurt smash something scream no no no no no get out get it out get it out find him report him police heroes what the fuck Izanagi-

Izanagi.

Izanagi.

Hey siri, call Izanagi.

“Yo, Y/n! What’s up? Miss me already~” Izanagi. His voice relaxed you and you found your brain forming coherent thoughts again. You opened your mouth to confess what was happening, but nothing came out. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

Then you cried. 

It felt so good to finally cry, you hadn’t cried in what felt like years, sobbing and looping his name, your only comfort in this chaos.

“Woah, woah, hey what’s going on? Hang on I’m coming over, don’t you fucking dare hang up!”

You sniffed, nodding, continuing to just mutter his name. In Just under five minutes, he was letting himself in with the spare key. You felt the bed shift, and you felt his warmth next to you. You fell against his side, crying harder. He held onto you, rubbing at your sides.

“Hey, hey. Come on, what happened? Tell me!” you could hear the fear in his voice. You still didn’t feel like you could speak so you just shakily handed him the letter you received, hoping he’d understand your reaction once he saw what you’d gotten.

His eyes scanned the paper before widening, and he covered his mouth with his hand. He dropped the paper, standing up and grabbing a suitcase from your closet and starting to fill it with clothes. He moved with haste, and you noticed he was grabbing your favorite clothes.

The sweatshirt he’d gifted you for Valentine’s Day, the Edgeshot t-shirt you wore every other day, the sweatpants you always slept in, 

“W-what are you doing?” you whimpered.

“You really think I’d let you stay here when some fucker obviously is watching you? I’m gonna report this to the police. No one is going to hurt you, okay? No one hurts my friends!” he turned back to you, a hard look in his eyes. You had a feeling that if he ever ran into your stalker, it would take multiple top heroes to hold him back from killing the guy.

You were grateful.

Izanagi helped you pack, and you told him all the other details. How it started with the Hawks beanie, how you’d gotten bottle caps and sweatshirts, and even dead animals. How you felt too scared to tell anyone, afraid of getting blown off.

He comforted you, he promised you he’d protect you. You felt safe with him. He would protect you. You thanked him religiously as he helped you bring your things over to his place. He kept telling you that of course he’d be doing this, it was the right thing to do.

This man… this man was your rock. He was your everything. You knew there’d be no way to fully repay him for his kindness towards you, but you promised yourself you’d try. 

You sat on his bed again, realizing that for the time being, this was your bed too. He was beside you, holding you tight and comforting you. You relaxed into his touch, before a realization struck you.

“Izanagi- he threatened to kill you. He hurt Kouten too, he- he can probably kill you if he really wants to.” Izanagi shook his head, pressing a finger to your lips.

“Nothing, I swear nothing is going to happen to me. Okay? Now, we’re going to the police station. You will not leave my sight, you will not let go of my hand. You’re not gonna wander off without telling me, etc etc. Clear?”

“Crystal.” you smiled softly, nodding. “Thank you so much Iza.”

“Like I said, of fucking course I’d do this. Come on, let’s get in the car.” he took your hand, putting your stalker’s letter in his pocket and taking you with him back out to his car. You got in the back, and he drove quickly. He glanced back at you repeatedly, double and triple-checking you were there and safe. 

  Finally, he pulled up at the police station and got out, quickly running around to the back doors as you got out. His hand was instantly on yours, pulling your body close against his and walking in the station with you. He briskly walked up to the police lady behind the counter.

“Oh, hello! Is there something I can do for the two of you?” she asked, it was so sweet and cheerful, so vastly different from the emotions swirling around in your mind.

“Yes, here.” Izanagi pulled the letter from his pocket and handed it to the lady. “My friend has a stalker, and he’s attacked another one of our friends.” the woman looked over the letter, nodding.

“Alright, I’m going to have some officers talk to your friend in private and-”

“Not happening.” Izanagi growled. “I get it, but I’m not leaving my friend.”

“I- I want him in the room.” you added. “Please.” the woman sighed, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, but unless you are a minor, I can’t have anyone else in the room with you. Even then it would be limited to certain people. It’s a safety precaution.”

“Fuck!” You grabbed Izanagi’s arm, rubbing his bicep to calm him down. He turned to you, offering you a strained smile. “You’ll be okay, right?” he asked, worried. You nodded, a feeble attempt to comfort him.

He gave the officers that came in a hard look, like he expected them to hurt you. You broke away from Izanagi’s comfort and followed them into a questioning room.

There were so many questions.

Every little detail about your life, even things that didn’t seem all that important. You told them everything you told Izanagi, plus a little more. They weren’t very comforting, and when you got scared, they got angry. It wasn’t at all like Izanagi, who softened when you were upset. Any detail that you didn’t have, they seemed to be upset with you about it. As if you were supposed to do your own little investigation illegally. It was… very annoying.

“Alright, we’re going to call a hero in here.” one of the officers told you. “Hawks has been doing a lot more patrols in your area than usual, he might have already seen your stalker and can probably take care of it for you. Is that okay?”

Hawks. You’d just met him one. He was a hero. He was trusted, beloved even. 

Call him in. He’s Hawks. He’s the number two. He wasn’t creepy, just do it!

“That’s fine, I’ll talk to Hawks.”

Maybe you should have thought about it more.

Maybe you should have trusted that feeling in your gut telling you ‘no.’

Maybe you shouldn’t have told Izanagi. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have involved the police.

Maybe you shouldn’t have spoken with Hawks so casually when you met him.

Maybe you shouldn’t have been a bird.

Maybe then.

You’d be free as you once were.

It took five minutes. Then the door swung open and he walked in. It had been a week or so since you saw him, but when he layed his golden eyes on you, you got the feeling that you’d seen him only yesterday, in a flash of red in the dead of night.

“Hello, Y/n L/n.” He spoke calmly, but you noticed a slight tremor of excitement. Why was he so happy to see you? 

You felt chills run down your spine at the way he sat next to you, taking your hand and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. His whole body seemed to vibrate in happiness, his wings fluttering as he locked eyes with you.

You shyed away from him, desperately trying to take your hands back, but his grip was firm. There was no escape.

“I-I changed my mind, officer!” You turned to the policeman, who was just leaving the room, leaving you with him. “I don’t want to talk to a hero, I’m sorry!”

The man turned back to you, a lazy, amused, smirk on his face. 

“Don’t worry, he’s a pro. You’ll be fine.” The man waved you off, shutting the door behind him. You felt like screaming, or throwing up, or both.

Something about Hawks seemed off. The way he looked at you, touched you, grinned so wildly at you, he didn’t look like a hero.

He looked like a crazed lunatic.

Click

The officer had locked the door.

“U-um, hi, Hawks.” you whispered, voice quiet. Fuck you wished Izanagi was here to comfort you. Hawks’ gloves were cold, the beaten leather rough against your hands, they were nothing like the gentle warmth that Izanagi’s soft skin emitted. 

His grin only grew, and he pulled you close to him, arms reaching around under your wings to grip your back. You squeaked, instinctively grabbing onto his biceps. His body was pressed against yours, and his breathing quickened, his face buried into your shoulder. You could feel him inhaling your scent.

“Fuck.” he growled, and you could feel his talons digging into your skin through his gloves and your shirt. “You have no idea how happy I am to finally see you again.” his voice wavered, and you could practically feel his excitement.

“S-sir, please let me go-” you whimpered. “I’m here to report a crime, not as a fan trying to meet you.” the hero cooed, only holding you tighter. 

“I know why you’re here, dear Y/n~” his breath tickled your ear, and you felt tears brimming in your eyes. “And I know who’s been following you. So nice of him to send you all those gifts, right~?” 

No

“So cruel of you to act like he’s a criminal.”

Not like this 

“He’s going to take good care of you~” 

Not right now 

“I love you so much”

Ow.

You felt... foggy.

And warm, really warm.

Tired…

So… tired…

Darkness.

[alloftheimaginess]

Can you do a supernatural cast series where you’re the wife and you do different interviews, like the videos on YouTube like Ad or thirst tweets or just answering fan questions whatever plz. If you have questions just message me and I’ll try to explain it further

Lol sorry it’s been like four months so don’t hate me but it’s been hard work juggling trying to write, school and work so sorry. I think it sucks but hopefully you’ll like it and I’ll be tagging the other parts in this one

Burning Fan Questions

Other parts

Alexander Calvert

Misha Collins

Jensen Ackles

"Hi I'm Yn Padalecki and I will be answer the fans burning questions about my life" I say smiling at the camera as I grab the bucket that's full of questions.

"I'm super nervous for this because before I got here Jared double dog dared me to answer literally every single question so I can't use my skip button" I say and the crew behind the camera laughs.

"Please for the love of god let their be questions to embarrass Jared more than me so he can eat it" I say giggling.

"First question" I say grabbing a folded up piece of paper from out the bucket.

"Who is the rudest celebrity that you've ever had the chance of meeting?" I read and I laugh.

"Oh that's a lot of them, there's an unsurprising amount of rude celebrities who think that they own Hollywood" I say laughing.

"But enough stalling because I have to answer this question anyway, the rudest celebrity that I've ever met was Christian Bale, no offense but he was a total dick to literally everyone around him, on set, off of set just everywhere" I say digging around the bucket for another question.

"What scandals has your team had to cover up?" I read and I start laughing.

"Noooooo" I say laughing even harder because I know I have to tell them.

"Okay okay. When I was 23 I had first met Jared and we got caught you know doing the deed and then the pictures were about to go out and they had to buy all of them back for double of what they were going to get" I say laughing shaking the bucket up and grabbing another one out.

"Have you ever used your celebrity status to get something for free?" I read.

"One time when I was out my daughter, Harlow we were getting frozen yogurt and I left my credit card at the restaurant we were at before without realizing it and at the register she goes oh my god are you Jared from supernatural's wife and when I'm with my daughters I usually pretend like I'm not but I totally knew she was going to give us the yogurt for free so I was like yeah, and then I asked her how she was and she was like oh this is totally on the house" I say laughing.

"I eventually went back and tipped a massive tip because I didn't pay last time" I say.

I grab another one out and I put the bucket down opening it "how many kids do you actually want?" I read.

"Well I already have two now but I'm aiming for at least five" I say laughing.

"I have a big family I'm one of 9 so I've always wanted a big family but not as big as mine so four or five would be a perfect size family for me, I honestly have a enough love for a million but four or five is definitely good for me" I say grabbing another question.

"If we came to your house what would we find in your cabinets food wise?" I read laughing.

"What an interesting question" I say.

"Everyone in the Padalecki household has their own cabinets because they are huge smackers. Harlow's is filled with the stuff she likes such as teddy Grahams, fruit roll ups, dried Cranberries, jolly ranchers stuff like that. Mine is filled with little cakes, gushers, banana chips which I swear by, peanuts, popcorn and Jared's, he has tons of candy, he is absolutely in love with white chocolate macadamia cookies and he always has those in his stash and Kiernan she's still on baby food so she's fully stocked on that" I say grabbing another question out.

"If you had to marry anyone that has starred along side your husband in his show supernatural who would it be?" I read.

"Oh hmm" I say laughing.

"Okay, Jensen is like Jared's best friend but I'm way closer to Misha so I'd definitely have to say Misha but no offense to his wife because I'd totally marry her as well or maybe even Rob, I love that man to pieces, he's a really good friend but then there's Rich, no offense to his wife Jaci but Rich and I have the best dance off's so that would be something to look forward to" I say laughing as I grab another question.

"If you woke up in Jared's body and had to stay in it for a day what would you do?" I say laughing.

"Easy, I'd leave myself little notes with plans for tomorrow so when I switch back he'll have to go through with them and we could have a perfectly planned out day because I planned it" I say laughing.

"If you go out to dinner with your non-famous friends, do you all still split the bill or do you pay?" I read.

"It depends really, my childhood friends don't like for me to pay for their stuff so we'll all split the bill but if I'm the one inviting everyone out then I'll pay before hand because then it'll be a lot of work trying to break it up" I say grabbing another question.

"What's one thing that Jared does that absolutely pisses you off?" I read cracking up.

"Breathes" I say smiling at the camera.

"I'm just kidding" I say laughing.

"When I'm super busy and like concentrating on my work he'll come over and innocently wrap his arms around me but then when I'm not paying him enough attention he'll start softly biting me and while I'm trying to work that can be so annoying" I say.

"What was the worst rumor that has been spread about you?" I read.

"I've had some pretty bad ones that I like to pretend didn't happen because they were literally so outrageous but I guess the worst one was that I was cheating on Jared. A few years back Harlow and I flew to my hometown for a few weeks and we spent Halloween out there and my twin sister and I dressed up as Sally from nightmare before Christmas because we've always done matching costumes whenever we're with each other and I posted a selfie on Instagram so everyone knew what I looked like but no one knew my twin sister was dressed identical to me and she took Harlow around with her now husband while I helped my parents be set up for the party and the paparazzi caught them together while they shared a kiss and while Eric played with Harlow and she was giggling and they put the photos on the front of the magazine and I was getting so much hate before I even knew what was going on and I was getting calls from our friends and they were asking me like how I could do that and then I had to go and post my pictures with my sister and write this long ass message about it and it was super bad" I say moving on.

"Who do you look up to the most, and what qualities do you love about that person?" I read.

"My grandma, she pretty much raised me. My parents weren't around often so I had to live with her for like 5 years, me and all of my siblings" I say digging in the bucket.

"But the qualities that I love about her is one, the fact that she is the strongest person I've had the honor of meeting" I say holding up one finger.

"Two, her boldness is like unbelievable. I took her to the oscars and she started flirting with The Rock and that's when I realized my grandma was my hero" I say laughing and I pull another question out.

"What's something you did as a child that no one knows about outside of your family?" I read.

"For two years I only spoke in a British accent, I had everyone confused at school because I never broke" I say laughing.

"How often do you and Jared have sex?" I read burying my face.

"No, I'm not going to be embarrassed. Sex is a normal thing, it brings about joy, relaxation, sometimes accidental pregnancies" I say laughing.

"But back to the question, I don't know. He's gone for like nine months out of the year but if he has a three day weekend or whatever then we'll spend a night together but when he's home in the three months he's off of filming it's literally whenever the kids are gone if even just for 20 minutes. We try to keep it as normal as possible" I say laughing.

"What's the last text conversation you had?" I read pulling out my phone and I laugh.

"I texted Robert about his new Batman movie because it was announced the other day and I just seen it this morning so I had to quickly congratulate him and he tells me that while I'm super late he still appreciates it and won't hold anything against me when it's time to hand out movie tickets and I said I'd never forgot about you shiny and he sent the middle finger emoji" I say laughing.

"What are your pet names that you and Jared have for each other?" I read.

"Ha, finally a question that he'd normally not talk about but I was dared so I call him Bubba or bubs" I say laughing.

"Literally it's how he's saved in my phone and he thinks it's so embarrassing" I say pulling my phone out and showing his contact name and photo.

"He's Bubba and he calls me a lot of different things but the one he always goes back to is beautiful or baby" I say smiling at the camera.

“Do your siblings and Jared get along?” I read and I laugh sighing.

“Like I mentioned earlier I’m one of nine so that’s eight siblings and then all of my siblings are older than me. I’m the baby and they are all married so my older brother and his husband love Jared and Jared loves them, we’re actually both of their kids godparents but then with my third oldest sister she doesn’t like me so she doesn’t like Jared by default you know” I say grabbing another question.

“Okay this is a question I have to know how often you do and Jared shower together?” I read laughing.

“Do you have to know that?” I ask laughing harder.

“Sorry to let you down but we don’t really, we’ll not anymore with kids it’s best one of us is out the shower while the other one quickly showers because we can’t leave them along for too long” I say knowing that my answer is not what they were expecting.

“But before kids it’s was an every morning thing we did together before heading out for our different business or whatever we had to do that day” I say.

“Did you have an oh shit moment at your wedding, and if so what was it?” I read and I nod.

“Yeah actually I did. But it’s been so long since we got married that I actually forgot until I read this question. My brother bless his poor heart showed up drunk like he was pregaming our wedding and the security didn’t know he was my brother so they were like kicking him out and my sister runs in like “oh my god Yn, the security just kicked Kalin out” so I’m like half dressed and I go down to try to figure out what the hell is happening and then I meet up with him and he throws up all over me like I’m talking full body covered and the make up artist just left and I had to shower and call her back so she could come fix my face and it was very traumatizing because it was so gross” I say laughing.

“But the whole wedding was beautiful and he didn’t drink at all” I say.

“If you had to pick a song from the late 10’s-2020 to be you and Jared’s couple song what would you pick?” I read and I awe.

“That’s a cute question. I guess I’d have to say Flicker by Niall Horan, we danced together to that song when Alex Calvert and his wife got married and it literally felt so magical and now whenever I hear it, it takes me back to a happy place and I just think about slow dancing with my best friend and husband” I say smiling.

“Do you and all the wives of the supernatural cast get along?” I read and I quickly nod.

“Those girls are some of my best friends, they know what it’s like to have a family and their husband work on supernatural so automatically we have something to bond over also with Alex’s wife she has a massive family so we often talk about the drama and problems that come along with it” I say laughing.

"Last one. What celebrity have you had beef with?" I read laughing.

"Daniel Radcliffe" I say quickly.

"But it was when we were younger filming the Harry Potter movies. We didn't like each other for like the first 4 movies" I say laughing.

"Our characters were close in the movie but on set we hated each other, I don't know why and I don't think he does either, I guess our energies just clashed but when we got to order of the Phoenix and we talked it out before we started filming and have been best friends in person ever since" I say laughing and tipping the bucket over.

"That was my last question. I'm Yn Padalecki and this has been answering fan questions. Thank you for watching and I hope you got a laugh out of at least some of these questions or you learned something you never thought you would learn about me" I say smiling at the camera

[dumdumsun]

Of Starlight

A/N: Alright, this entire story has officially been written ❤️

Warnings: none that I’m aware of

Word Count: 3067

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Chapter 5: Extra Ordinary

Five years ago, Vanya Hargreeves began writing her autobiography, “Extra Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven”, less than two weeks before her sister’s novel, “One-Sided”, was announced in the papers. Those around who enjoyed her writing were buzzing with excitement, for it was the second book of her trilogy. (Y/N) was thrilled, herself, to be publishing her novel within the next month. Finally sharing her work with the world would have taken a tremendous weight off her shoulders, leaving her with only the weight on her bladder. While working herself nearly to death with her writing, she was with child for the second time, which added to her stress. Thankfully, she had a very supportive husband at the time to assist in anything she requested. It was in those times in which (Y/N) was grateful she decided to make something of herself rather than letting her past as Number Eight define her.

Once “One-Sided” was published, (Y/N) sent two copies out; one to Allison, one to Vanya. She figured her brothers wouldn’t want to read her romantic fantasy as much as her sisters, so she didn’t bother asking. Allison seemed ecstatic for the new addition, but she wasn’t too sure about Vanya, supposing it wouldn’t hurt to send it. If she didn’t want to read it, that was her decision. What she didn’t expect, however, was Vanya’s novel sent to her. After Jada was born, (Y/N) had taken time to read her sister’s autobiography. While Anthony was at work during the day, she’d multitask by reading and taking care of her newborn. She would quietly gasp at certain parts of the book before checking to make sure she hadn’t woken her daughter up. (Y/N) couldn’t believe some of the things her sister dared to put in that book. Some things she wrote were blatantly about (Y/N)’s own insecurities that she had trusted Vanya with knowing. Insecurities about her powers, her capability of being a suitable member of the Umbrella Academy. Vanya had compared it to her own doubts, stating that (Y/N) had no right to complain to her, of all people. Looking back now, (Y/N) could admit that it was a bit selfish to do that to her sister. Regardless, those had been personal and it was unloyal of Vanya to share that with anyone willing to read. Despite this, (Y/N) saw to promote “Extra Ordinary” along with her own work. Someone had to be the bigger person in this situation.

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Nostalgia wasn’t exactly what (Y/N) was overcome with when awaking in her childhood bed. In fact, she’d much rather have opened her eyes to the empty side of her king-sized mattress at home instead. She debated closing her eyes and pretending she had never drifted into consciousness, but sat up when remembering everything Five had told her the day before. If she remembered correctly, there were six remaining days leading up to the end of the world. She had promised Five to assist in preventing the apocalypse, and her drowsiness was not going to hold her back. So, she dragged herself out of bed and began looking for Five. She figured the first place to begin was his bedroom, so she stopped in front of his door and knocked. Hearing rustling on the other side, she asked, “Five, are you decent?”

“Decent enough. You can come in,” He called out, the door opening and (Y/N) stepping inside. He glanced at her over his shoulder as he fixed his white button up. “I take it you had a difficult time sleeping?”

“What makes you say that?” Her hand slid down her face, sarcasm in her tone. She didn’t need a mirror to know she had bags under her eyes. Five chuckled and moved to his vest and jacket, finishing with dressing himself. As he zipped his duffle bag closed, he glanced out the window.

“You tagging along today?”

“I plan to. I… suppose I have nothing to do.”

“Nothing, huh?” Suspicion hid amongst his words as he picked up his bag. “What is it you decided to do with your life, (Y/N)?” The question was simple, genuine, but the weight of it was suffocating. She really couldn’t go back to her normal, beautiful life after all.

“I… found my mother,” She slowly started out, carefully watching as Five curiously glanced up at her under his dark brows. “I became an author… and a mother.”

Suddenly, Five couldn’t breathe. He had anticipated this conversation, prepared himself for everything (Y/N) had accomplished while he was gone. But nothing could have prepared him for the stab in the heart at the mention of her having children. Children with someone who wasn’t him. It was stupidly selfish, he knew, to expect her to wait for him, to do anything else with her life except for the things he longed to do with her. Past the pain, however, he was happy for her. Something in him knew that (Y/N) would one day make a wonderful mother. She was patient, selfless, caring, and oh, how he wished he could’ve been the one. He didn’t even want to ask about the individual she had trusted enough to raise children with her.

His hesitancy to respond worried (Y/N) and suddenly she wanted to apologize. But for what? Her success, her marriage, her children? She had every right to those and she shouldn’t have to apologize. Her concern washed away when Five raised his brows in acknowledgement, opening the window. “Really? A mother? That’s great, Starlight…” God, that nickname… She thought. Why does everything feel so complicated now? Her feet moved her to follow him out of the window and down the fire escape. She thought it was best to not continue the conversation for now.

“Dammit, where’s Dad’s stuff?” The two heard an irritated groan on their way down. (Y/N) craned her neck to see Klaus digging through the dumpster. “Shut up! I’m trying to find whatever… priceless crap was in that priceless box so that Pogo will get off my ass!”

“I’d ask what you’re up to, Klaus, but then it occurred to me…,” Five turned to his brother. “I don’t care.” His useless comment earned an eye roll from (Y/N). Klaus glanced up at the two with a small laugh.

“Hey! You know there are easier ways out of the house, buddy? And bringing little (Y/N) along, too? Whatever could you two be up to?”

“This way of leaving involved the least amount of talking,” Five hopped off the ladder, helping (Y/N) down afterwards. “Or so I thought.”

“Klaus,” The eighth Hargreeves made her way closer to the dumpster. “Is Ben there?”

“Yes, dear, he says hi.” His hand waved in Ben’s supposed direction, (Y/N) softly smiling at her ghost brother. “So, hey, you two need any more company today? I could, uh… clear my schedule.” His eyes shifted to Five as he took a drink from his flask.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full.” The boy falsely smiled.

“Oh, this? No, no. I can do this whenever. I’m just- I just misplaced something. That’s all.” He then fell into the trash as (Y/N) joined her traveling companion at his side. After a few seconds, Klaus reappeared with a bagel. “Oh! Found it! Thank god!” (Y/N) nearly gagged as he began to chew on it, muffling a ‘delicious’ in forced content.

“I’m done funding your drug habit.” Five spit out before walking away. She followed him and waved at Klaus, barely listening to him yelling after them as they climbed into a plumbing van.

“Why are we stealing a van?”

“Shush.”

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Once again, the two teenagers found themselves in front of Meritech Prosthetics. (Y/N) watched as Lance entered the building before sighing. “We’re really gonna sit here and spy on the man?”

“You got a better idea?” Five only kept his stare on him.

“I guess not… What’s the bag for, then?”

Five immediately turned his attention to the duffle bag he brought with them. “Oh, shit,” He muttered before unzipping it. “Hey,” He softly greeted before handing a bottle of alcohol to (Y/N). She blinked once, twice, thrice when he brought out the top half of a bald mannequin and set it between them. “Sorry you were in there for so long, Delores.”

“Wait,” (Y/N) choked. “That’s Delores?! The one you were with for over thirty years?!”

“Well, obviously,” Five frowned before turning back to ‘Delores’. “This is (Y/N), Delores. You know… the one I told you about.”

“You… talk about me to the mannequin? Should I be flattered or weirded out?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Five sighed and turned away. (Y/N) suddenly felt silly for being jealous last night. “No, I’m not drunk.”

“What?” (Y/N) frowned at the boy, who shook his head.

“Talking to Delores. She thinks I’m- Yes, it’s about the eye thing. This is the place it was made. Or… will be made,” His eyes moved up to his human friend. “We just have to wait…”

He’s actually talking to the mannequin, (Y/N) thought as she turned forward, eyes wide. So, that was what the apocalypse had done to him. She felt bad for him now. Initially, her heart warmed at the thought of Five finding someone to love, but knowing that his mind had gone somewhere far away enough for him to turn to a mannequin for comfort…

“So, (Y/N),” He started, his gaze once again trained on the building before them. “Your children… tell me about them.” Truth be told, Five wanted to know how much they had gotten from their mother. Were they just as humorous? Just as passionate? As wonderful? (Y/N) let out a heartfelt laugh as she closed her eyes.

“Where do I even begin? Michael, he’s… so intelligent. He has the highest reading level in his class and they’re thinking of letting him skip the first grade. He’s such a big help at home with his little sister… I swear, he’s a little man. He’s always trying to test my knowledge. Tries to get me to solve his ‘really hard’ math homework problems…,” She chuckled, Five looking at her with an unreadable expression. “And Jada… she’s such a character. No matter how many times I teach her the days of the week, she always gets them wrong… She wakes me up every morning, trying to guess. I say ‘Jada, if yesterday was Wednesday, what is today?’ and she just starts listing off every wrong answer… She’s a performer, too. I enrolled her into dance classes. Oh, it’s her favorite thing to do… And I’ll admit, she’s good at it. Don’t know where she got that from. Definitely not from me or her dad...”

Five tilted his head thoughtfully. “They sound… just like you. They think they know everything,” He joked with a small smile, (Y/N) playfully glaring at him. “Really, though… They sound like great kids… I’d like to meet them one day.”

“Yeah,” She smiled down at her lap. “I’d love for them to meet you… But I need to be an actual adult before I can face them again. Until then… It’s just checking up every once and awhile…”

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry,” Five frowned as he sat forward. “I- I’m going to figure this out. I promise.”

“I know you will,” She breathed and closed her eyes, her world slowly crashing down on her yet again. “Sorry, I need some air.” And with that, Five was in the car alone. Well, save for Delores. Outside, (Y/N) didn’t have much time to really be with her own thoughts before she heard Luther and Klaus’s voices nearing her. Turning to her right, she spotted the two walking side-by-side towards the van. Upon seeing her, Luther raised a hand.

“(Y/N), you need to get back to the Academy. We found something… and Grace might’ve had something to do with Dad’s death.” He gruffly explained, the young girl straightening to attention.

“Wait, what-”

“I can explain at the house, but we need both you and Five there for the family meeting. Is he in there?” He pointed to the vehicle their brother sat in.

“Yeah, but-”

“Great. Be right back.” Luther’s massive body brushed past her to get to Five, Klaus following behind to get in the back. Not waiting a second longer, she followed her junkie brother inside. When she entered the van again, Luther was trying his hardest to fit his body into the passenger seat as Klaus grabbed Delores, smirking at (Y/N) as he began to dance with the mannequin. She only watched him in disinterest. Once Luther was finally in, he turned to Five. “You okay?”

“You shouldn’t be… How did you find me?” Five’s question was answered when Luther turned to Klaus. With everyone’s attention on him, he looked up from Delores and dropped his smile.

“Hey, a little privacy, guys. We’re really hitting it off back here.” He began to caress Delores’s cheek before screaming when Five threw an object at him, Klaus using the mannequin to block. (Y/N) shook her head and moved closer to Five and Luther, the former fuming.

“Get out! You can’t be here! I’m in the middle of something.”

“Oh, but (Y/N) can be here?”

“Yes! We’re in the middle of something!” Five turned forward as Klaus joined (Y/N) at her side, poking her cheek gently.

“Any luck with your one-eyed man?” He asked her, receiving a head shake. Five sighed and turned to Luther.

“What do you want, Luther?”

Turning his attention away from the conversation between the two, Luther answered Five, “Um… So, Grace might’ve had something to do with Dad’s death. So I need you to come back to the Academy, alright? It’s important.” His request was met with silence for a split second before the time traveller shook his head.

“‘It’s important’. You have no concept of what’s important-”

“Hey!” Klaus interrupted, holding his sister at his side. “Did I ever tell you guys about the time I waxed my ass with chocolate pudding?”

And that was when (Y/N) tuned out the entire conversation between her family. She left Klaus’s side and pressed her back against the back of Luther’s seat, closing her eyes. She knew Five wasn’t going with Luther and Klaus to the house, and she didn’t need to listen to the bickering that would’ve led to that outcome. Her attention was eventually brought to Klaus swinging the back door open, huffing as he got out. She watched him slam the door closed and make his way towards the store across the street. Not trusting him in the slightest, she sent a clone after Klaus, telling it to “watch over him”. At this point, she was waiting for Luther to leave so her growing headache would subside, but it seemed the man wanted to talk some more.

“What the hell are you up to, Five?”

“Believe me, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me. Last I checked, I’m still the leader of this family.”

“Well, last I checked, I’m twenty-eight years older than you.” Five tightly smiled before (Y/N) snorted with laughter. The boy rolled his eyes and smiled fondly at her before Luther pulled his attention away.

“You know what your problem is?”

“Really hoping you’ll tell me.”

“You think you’re better than us,” Luther’s words wiped that sarcastic smile right off Five’s face. “You always have. Even when we were kids. But the truth is, you’re just as messed up as the rest of us. We’re all you have… and you know it.” Luther stared at his brother, as the boy slowly inhaled.

“I don’t think that I’m better than you, Number One. I know I am,” He hissed, Luther only chuckling. “I’ve done unimaginable things, things you couldn’t even comprehend.”

“Right...”

“Just to get back here and save you all…” Five stared out the window. (Y/N) sighed and grabbed Delores.

“Luther, out.” She ordered, her “big” brother turning to her with an offended look. “Five’s clearly not going with us. No use arguing with him either. So, just go and I’ll catch up-” She was cut off by the sound of a voice whooping in excitement. The three looked across the street to see Klaus running out of the store, arms full of stolen snacks, the clone following close behind.

“Hey, bitches!” He shouted as a cop chased after them, blowing his whistle. The clone turned to the officer and pushed him away with great force as Klaus was nearly hit by a car. Five’s head followed Klaus’s movement.

“I’m starting to wonder if that was the wisest decision…”

After Luther was sent out of the van, (Y/N) took over the passenger seat once again and set Delores down between them, Five quietly thanking her. “So… I’m going with the guys.”

“What? Why are you wasting your time, I thought you wanted to help me?”

“I do, and I will… But I don’t trust Luther to make decisions right now… I mean, if Mom really did have something to do with Dad’s death… Who knows what he’ll do? The least I can do is try to talk him out of it. I promise, when I’m done, I’ll come and find you.” She softly smiled, gently patting his hand. Five shook his head at her.

“You don’t have to promise me anything… I’m the one who owes you.”

“All you owe me is this,” She gently squeezed his hand. “You being here… That’s what I’ve wanted for so long. Now I have it. So, your debt is paid.” She chuckled. Five rested the back of his head against the seat as his eyes searched her face, trying to find anything that should worry him about her. But all he found was her warm smile and eyes that shone with affection. It suddenly felt inappropriate to have Delores around right now.

“Well, then, you should get going… You’ve gotta catch up with those idiots.”

“Alright. Don’t be out here forever, okay?” (Y/N) leaned in and pecked his cheek before getting out of the car and rushing after her brothers. As he watched her speed away, he tried to regulate his breathing, heartbeat increasing.

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