#he's still young in a lot of ways and you see him grow up a bit and find responsibility through managing Steph & Tim

[thisuserisgonesorry]

1,, im not a teenager . might be young but i have a pretty good grasp on adulthood atp , and i’m not the only person that thinks this specific take; ive asked a lot of mutuals/friends who are (young,,) adults and agree w/ me and many people in rbs agree so like .. bringing my age into this is so left field cos . idk . weird thing 2 say

2 in my experience from living in a very “redneck” (lack of a better term) area (though not america, so there could be a difference), ive met 20-25 year olds who look and act exactly like daryl in s1 because teenagers in redneck areas just look like that. thats where my estimate came from, due to my own experiences

3,, norman reedus literally just looks young in everything he plays . you cant deny that he has a bit of a baby face and doesnt ALWAYS look his age . (but also celebrity men do look like that cos they dont just start rotting away the second they hit 23 because blue collar / minimum wage jobs suck) and never did i say there was a problem w/ him being 40 , just that it didnt make sense in my mind,,, nd actors can play characters that are a different age than them. norman being 40 ≠ daryl having to be 40

4,, he wasnt embarrassed until around season 3-4 iirc , closer to when he was around more people and less isolated , closer to merles death , more so around when he found out carol would go to that community home to get away from ed and then more around beths whole arc (iirc? im a bit aways from s3 rn,,)

nd considering 25+ is around when the frontal lobe developed. yeah. he would act like an idiot in s1. like all young adults do. and he would helplessly follow his brother around for validation considering his childhood, and he’d do whatever he wanted. he would be a terrible drunk, with no job. young adults do that. especially ones w/ mental health / bad childhood

then he develops into a person who was willing to learn to deal with his trauma when around season 4 when (in hc) he’d be like 27 at the earliest (?) because we have to remember that we skip all of loris pregnancy and then the first year (?) of judiths life. making him on the closer side to 30 around the time the prison, when his character starts developing.

(and i never said 25 was the solid age, just that hes “like 25”, meaning im happy to account s1 daryl as 26,27,28, whatever, just that hes under 30 in s1 in my mind)

5 i agree that him being older plays a part in his story but i dont think being 25 suddenly makes him a little baby that makes his development void. his frontal lobe developed. that is a valid subtextual reason for him to mature. but that isnt the only thing that made him reflect and want to cope with his trauma. merles frontal lobe developed and he never tried to do what daryl did - therefor the age thing doesn’t exactly diminish his story or else merle wouldve changed before the outbreak, but he didnt, because some people dont. some people reach frontal lobe age and stay the same. its not “he just grew up” because then merle would have too, but he did grow up, and realised following merle was stupid. but he wouldnt have reached that outcome if there werent other factors so it can easily be both

6 i never said 40 looks old or that theres a problem w it, but how is he older than rick? than most of the other people there? being older than rick feels like it makes no sense (although rick didnt grow up like daryl did and they had carl young so blab yeah theres reasons) and merle being 35+ does make some sense though id somewhat agree 35 is young for merle. m not saying that ppl start decomposing when they hit 30 but god forbid i hc someone as not 40

+ trauma physically ages people so even if daryl did look the same age or older than rick, then it would still be plausible that hes younger. we see trauma age characters in this show. its not hard to assume it happened to him outside of the outbreak too

prob formatted this like a mess but ,, m tired

n e way other people in the rb say that they think daryl is different ages to all of them (varying from 20-40) and as i said in those rbs its interesting that no one can really “agree” on what age he should be cos hes an enigma like that and i think it suits him,, like we all can agree on certain things about certain character cos its a unanimous vibe but then his unanimous vibe is that no one truly knows him??? subtext of it all .

anyway /nm for all of this . im just a little guy . i respect ur opinion cos i love my pookie and i really do love that everyone interprets his story so differently ,,,, i just like talking about it

idgaf im sick of not saying it. s1 daryl dixon is not fucking 40 bro. hes like 25. there is no way in fucking hell.

[pain-is-too-tired]

One thing I think is interesting is how much a parallel Will is to Nico. Not just cause "oh,dead siblings-" but how that whole situation pays out overall.

Both are raised by their mom for first decade of their life, why Nico grows up with a sibling, Will only has his mom to lean on, why not shown(praying so hard for a Naomi moment in tsats 2-) it's very clear he has a close bond with her why Nico hardly is able to remember his.

Both end up attack at young age with their moms. Nico losing his from Zeus, and Will being attacked why in the city with his mom. Something that sticks to him so much despite fighting in like 3 wars that he still is scared of those monster birds.

Nico and Bianca are taken to the Casino and years later camp, why Will it's taken straight to camp, and only then does he get siblings to lean on.

Nico loses the only stability(nonfataly at first) he's had his own life when she decides to join the hunters (which, as a younger sibling with similar age gap,definitely gives the feel of sibling struggling with being left behind as the older grows up but that's a different ramble-) Will like makes the decision to not be able to see his mom as much anymore for the safety of her and himself, becoming a year rounder, or having to do so after the war for sake of his siblings. Either way loosing that stability as well.

Of course Will loses a brother before Michael, not only that he looses almost all his siblings.

And this where most interesting comparing the two.

Nico has to stay in camp, he entrust Percy to look after her and when she dies in his young grieving mind he blames Percy. He was there when Nico couldn't be and didn't save her. Add on to the fact that Nico felt her die. He's left with his sister dieing why he was stuck and camp and couldn't be there with her.

Then for Will, he likely not only felt some of his siblings die(if why trying to heal them they died right there) but he saw them die. He was there and he couldn't do anything.

He sees not just Michael being knocked off the bridge, but some of his other siblings too a bit prior from Kronos. A year prior he likely also had to see many other die as well including his other brother.

I don't think most of his anger is in Percy, though I'm sure he has some mixed feelings about it at this point after botl Will is fully aware they're in the middle of war and what comes with that. They had to act fast in both breaking the bridge and getting to Annabeth. Michael wasn't the only sibling somewhere under that bridge, leaving his cabin to search and regroup why he went with Percy was the best option.

But,I think if he'd be upset at anyone, it be Clarisse and her cabin. Even if by a little bit.

A reverse of Nico's situation. Instead of "i couldn't be there, you were" its "I was there, you chose not to."

Not that they particularly could 100% saved Michael just be being their sooner or whatever, but if they were there would've been room for reinforcement. That maybe at least some of his other siblings could've survived.

They're then given something that just becomes a sour reminder of what they lost. Nico's given the figure Bianca got that led into her death by Percy.

Will's handed over the chariot, which was the reason Clarisse refused to assist in the fight why his siblings died, by Clarisse.

But, Nico left camp after. Having no ties to it and no responsibility other than taking care of himself. Only having to get back on contact with Percy after months without it. And why still going through a lot he's finally able to talk stuff over and start on a healing journey.

And honestly,I thinks why Nico and so much further in not just acknowledging his trauma and issues,but actually get moments to think it over and talk and connect to someone over it.

Think that's why I hate that idea that will just came in and "fixed Nico" or whatever. Because Nico was already on the way to healing by the end of the first series! Of course he still struggled,cause healing doesn't happen over night,but if wasn't just Will that helped him. Will was just the person to help him find his place in chb and settle in a stable place where he could finish his healing.

In contrast, Will had hardly any of that. As soon as Michael and his siblings died he was responsible for not only what little siblings he had left(Kayla and Austin were like 11 or so btw-) but a whole army of his peers and others.

He had to become a head counselor mid war, afterwards he had to burn bodies and empty shrouds of his siblings and peers why still having to take care of his living peers.

He couldn't risk the energy to argue or be mad fully at Clarisse. He just had to put on a steady face why she gives his cabin back the chariot like that would fix anything. Only for that to get broken but too long afterwards

It is non stop for over the next 1-2 years. To the point he centered his worth around helping others to an unhealthy degree that it even affects his relationship with Nico.

Which took up to tsats for Nico to really sit and talk to Will about it. Nico's aware of how hurt by his sibling's lost Will is, but i think up until tsats he hadn't fully processed the fact that Will never got the closure he did. Will never got to say goodbye nor had time to do his own thing. And I think tsats it as much of a start of Will's healing journey as it is Nico fully coming to terms with his. Obviously trauma like that doesn't go away, but Nico it's a lot further ahead than Will, and think just interesting how differently their life led them to that.

Will,despite having me stability with camp and his two siblings, he never really had anyone he felt he was allowed to lean on even a little bit. Even with how close he is to his mom, there's only so much he likely would tell her.

Idk. The parallels are so interesting to me.

Also, idea of Clarisse being to Will as Percy is to Nico and kinda fun to think about. I'm just a sucker for Clarisse being a big sister figure to Will hdgd

Also, not saying Nico is there to work Will through his issues either. I bet much rather him just be part of it in the way Will was with him. Nico had Jason and Reyna and Hazel as well. Let Will have that support system. Obviously I'm sucker for him and Jake having heart to heart. But also others.

Anyway gdgd just random thoughts about them.

[yellowocaballero]

Not an ask just

Damn chapter 10 of new wave was amazing! I didn’t expect to see who you brought in but just ABDJXOCJDNSJ I have no words, only praise for your work, have a wonderful day

Thank you! Trust me, I spent half the fic going "ugh who the hell is the Rogue" before I hit upon the fucking perfect one and went back and changed a bit in the rest of the fic for foreshadowing. It was just perfect!! He stands at the border! Literally half and half! A man of transition! A man with personal meaning to Bruce and who's important in his own arc! A guy who's grounded enough to fit into the story but zany enough to make everybody go ???. Somebody with a sense of justice and righteousness, just like Bruce, but a bloody reflection of the end outcome of vengeance! Famously Robin's first big Rogue who seriously injured in - I think he shot Dick in Robin Year 1 and was the reason why Bruce fired him the first time. Just! Perfect!!

God I love how this fic turned out so much. I don't even feel responsible for it. I'm just like. Yeah, perfect fic. Lucky to have found it lying on the ground. It's not perfect but also it's perfect. I love loving my own writing, everybody should give it a shot and see how they feel. It's the best part of being a writer. Just loving it.

Thank you for the ask! Next chapter is the penultimate one, and it features my third favorite scene in the story and the one that made me super emo.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Pt 1(you’re here)

Pt 2

warning: dubcon, somno, size difference(big time)

A/N: my requests are closed for the foreseeable future, but my commissions are open! Consider reading my commission info and helping me out! Slots are limited(2 left), so get a commission while you still can~

Having thoughts about a fairy that’s the last of his kind.

He usually spends his days lounging around in flowers or by the lakeside, sometimes visited by woodland creatures.

After his species died out, he's been quite lonely. Being the last of your kind was a fate worse than death, and all he wanted was someone to call his own.

And then he sees you, a normal human woman walking home through his forest.

Usually fairies would play tricks on wandering humans or even curse them for entering their forest, but he couldn’t take being alone anymore, so he followed you home instead.

He just planned to take up residence in your garden, maybe help your plants grow if he felt like it… but one night he ended up flying by your window.

The sight of you undressing made his wings flap in excitement. Your ample breasts, soft belly, and plump thighs were a lot to take in, but he sat in the windowsill, his eyes fixated on your body as he stroked his cock.

He’d never seen a fairy that looked like you, they were all so little and dainty. You had such soft features, all he wanted to do was bury his face in your breasts and fuck that fat pussy of yours.

But alas, he was too small, barely the size of your hand. Never before had he wanted to be the side of a human. Their bodies seemed so clumsy and cumbersome… but now the only thing on his mind was finding a way to grow to your size.

As you slept, he flew in through your cracked window, settling on your chest. It was softer than he imagined, like lying atop two doughy mountains. The fairy couldn’t help but marvel at your hard nipple poking through the fabric of your top.

He held your perky bud in both of his hands, marveling at the way you whimpered under his touch.

Before he knew what he was doing, the little fairy pulled out his cock. He pushed up the fabric of your shirt just enough so he could rub the tip of his sensitive, needy cock on that pretty nipple of yours.

“Mmph…”

He stopped rutting against your nipple when he spotted your soft, plump lips, glistening in the moonlight. The fairy’s shimmering wings fluttered as he gently walked between the valleys of your breasts and climbed up your face.

He positioned his cock between your slightly parted lips, gently pressing the tip against your tongue, testing the waters.

When you didn’t wake up, he began to slowly fuck your mouth, glancing up to your eyes every once in a while before picking up speed.

It was like heaven for him, fucking into your warm, wet mouth, imagining you tasting his cum on your tongue come morning time.

He lost count of how many times he was pushed over the edge by your soft tongue, and ended up passing out on your breasts. He looked like the cutest little thing, all curled up in your cleavage…

When you woke up the next morning, everything was the same as usual. You just had this weird taste in your mouth…

After a nice breakfast, you went to water your plants, only to find out your vegetables had doubled in size over night! As you stared on in awe, your little fairy admirer sat on your windowsill, his cheeks pink as he watched you smile and harvest the plants he had tended to.

You were his lover now, after all… and he didn’t want you going hungry, did he? Especially not when he was planning to find a growth spell and fill that chubby belly of yours full of his young so he could rebuild his species.

You’d need lots of nutrients to carry his young, and he was a good little mate~

part 2?

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @screaming-crying-screamingagain @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljr @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @buckoothecow @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143

[awrkive]

tlp xmas special — jjk (m.)

hello awrkive nation!!! its late but merry christmas to those who celebrate!! sorry for being ia but heres a christmas gift from me to you 🫣 first of all i genuinely forgot abt the car s*x drabble that won that poll i made a few weeks ago which i promised you guys ISHDJDJ but here it is!! this drabble combines all of these three recurring requests for the tlp couple and this might also be the last drabble im doing for them (for now??) so do enjoy!!

pairing: tlp!jungkook x tlp!oc (main story)

summary: in which jungkook looks way too good carrying your sister's three-year old at her christmas eve party and you can't help but let your mind wander

w/c: 6k (ctfu)

warning/s: explicit sexual content (p in v s*x, car s*x, unprotected s*x, cre*mpie), oc having baby fever lol. genuinely not proofread sorry for any errors!

You find babies mesmerizing. They’re charming, they can be a handful, they’re irresistibly cute; so tiny, yet so loud. But to the core, they somehow manage to be a pure embodiment of joy.

Before Nayeon got pregnant, she shared something about having a “baby fever”. Of course you knew what it meant – but you never really felt it yourself. She said it was something about Minhyuk being such a good husband that she couldn’t wait for him to be a father. Well, you related to that specific part, at least; about your own husband being such a good husband. However, for the past year you’ve become a married couple, you never really thought about having babies. Or him being a father. Or you being a mother. 

It’s not like you don’t want to become a mother, like ever, or have a family with him. It’s just you thought you’re still way too young to be having babies. So you kind of just… gloss or skip over that idea – and for the record, Jungkook’s never brought it up, either. 

It’s not until your sister got pregnant for the second time, though, that you got yourself thinking. Seokjin and her had babies almost four years into their marriage, but it’s not very long until they decided to try again after Nari and now your sister is carrying her baby boy for seven months. 

It brings you here, gathered at their house for Christmas Eve. Your families haven’t arrived yet, but you and Jungkook decided to go earlier than the agreed time to help out with the – admittedly, big preparation. And currently, Jungkook’s got Nari – Seokjin and your sister’s 3-year-old – in his arms, asking for raspberries because Jungkook’s her favorite uncle. (Why wouldn’t he be? He spoils her a lot and carries her around when you come over.) He insisted on looking after her so Seokjin can help your sister out in the kitchen while you’re over at the counter island making some charcuterie.

Seokjin’s helping your sister take out the pies they’ve both prepared, with him guarding her and being extra with it because “my wife is pregnant and I’m growing white hairs because she wouldn’t just let me do everything”. Your sister is just so done chastising him for his overbearing antics, but you guess it’s cute, at the core of it all. You’ve always looked up to their relationship all these years. In fact, you kind of see Seokjin in Jungkook sometimes. Seokjin loves your sister the way Jungkook loves you. 

And then, the thought passes over your head like some form of looming possibility, unsettling yet intriguing. It lingers for a moment, uninvited but persistent, as if life is quietly hinting at something you’ve never truly considered before. The idea of a baby, of parenthood, feels distant but somehow more tangible now—like a door you never saw, now standing slightly ajar, waiting for you to decide whether to step through.

Would Jungkook be just as (lovingly) overbearing if you were pregnant? You imagine he’d be even more annoying about it. It’s rare for you to get sick, but when you do, Jungkook practically flips the house upside down just to make sure you don’t have to lift a finger. Takes care of you so seriously, as if the illness would never go away on its own in a few days. So what would it be like if you were carrying his child? Would he act like Seokjin does now, always hovering with a hand on your back, supporting your every move, scolding you if you try to do anything that requires even a little bit of effort?

The thought makes your lips curl. Because he probably would. You know he will. 

And as you look at him from across the room, carrying Nari around effortlessly against his body with one arm, with his red long-sleeve polo shirt pushed up to his forearms, white slacks, and freshly cut hair slicked to perfection for tonight’s occasion, he looks… delectable. 

Like a DILF. 

Except he isn’t a dad. 

But god, would you really, really like to fuck him. 

(And would he look way hotter if he – say – gave you a child?)

“Is it done?” Your sister interrupts your thoughts – thankfully, might you add. Because it’s going in a direction that’s way too inappropriate for a family occasion like this, and you need to be family friendly tonight for this Christmas party. 

When you turn around to see if she was talking to you, you find her looking at her husband instead, and with her stance and the tone of her voice, you know it doesn’t sound good. 

“Yeah. I think I just need to add a little more—” 

“Jin,” she says, sounding a little distressed. “Hurry. And make sure it’s perfect, okay? Everyone’s arriving in fifteen, and this is the first time I’m hosting Christmas and I really, really don’t want to disappoint your family and Jungkook’s parents and mom and—” 

“Hey,” You see Seokjin put a hand on the lower part of your sister’s back, effectively cutting her off. Gently, he tells her, “Everything’s perfect, alright?” 

Soft tunes of Christmas songs are playing all over the huge open space of their house, and you know you’re not supposed to listen in to the conversation given that they’re spoken in an almost hushed manner as some sort of discretion, but you can’t help but notice when she turns to Seokjin to give him a downturned smile.

“I just really want to give this my all…” 

He smiles down at her reassuringly. “You have, honey. Let’s not stress, okay? Not good for baby, remember?” Then, he begins to rub her protruding belly, and you see her visibly relaxing to his touch. 

You turn around quickly to not get caught watching, only to be welcomed with Jungkook making a beeline towards you, with Nari still in his arms. 

“Hi, baby,” Your sister automatically greets Nari, cooing at her, mood immediately picking up. The bright-eyed little girl lights up at the sight of her mommy, making grabby hands instantly. Laughing, Jungkook hands her to Seokjin, who receives his daughter and kisses her chubby cheeks with a smack. 

“What were you up to with uncle JK, little missy?” Seokjin says, swaying her side to side. 

Jungkook leans his elbow on the island while looking at the pair, smiling widely.

“Uncle JK said he’s giving me three presents! Three! I wanna open them!” She holds up three fingers, and you giggle at her cuteness.

Your sister softly laughs in response. “Your uncle likes to spoil you, sweetie. But we’ll open them later, okay?”

“Why not now?” She whines, and you smile at how seriously she takes it. “I want three presents!”

“Don’t worry,” Seokjin laughs, “You’ll have lots of surprises when the grandmas and grandpas get here. But we need to change into your dress first.”

Nari giggles. “You? You’re gonna wear a dress too?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, why not?”

She shakes her head, still giggling, her pigtails swaying as she does so. God, she looks like a combination of Seokjin and your sister that it’s so uncanny sometimes.

“You’re so silly, daddy.”

Seokjin feigns shock. “Silly? Just wait, Uncle JK and I are going to be Ariel and Belle for New Year’s! Right, Jungkook?” He looks over at Jungkook, who widens his eyes comically.

You laugh, and Jungkook adds, “Well, I wanted to be Cinderella, but sure, I’ll be Belle.”

Nari gasps dramatically, putting her hand over her mouth. “But she’s my favorite, Uncle JK! You can’t be her!”

She’s such a cute kid – and you know everybody in the room agrees. No doubt her mom and dad think so, but when you look over at Jungkook, he’s cheesing really hard – with his nose scrunched into that expression of cute aggression. 

“These two boys are silly.” Your sister interrupts with a playful roll of her eyes. She looks at her husband Nari, “Honey, take Nari upstairs and dress her up, please.”

“I can wear my new dress now?!” Nari shrieks, excitement showing with the way she wiggles in her father’s hold.

“Absolutely, baby, and the sparkly white shoes, too,” Seokjin nods. You all coo when Nari lets out an adorable, delighted “yay!” at the words, already leaning towards the direction of the stairs and telling her father to hurry. With a chuckle, Seojin turns to you. “Alright. And Jungkook, please help her with the food.” Seokjin’s gaze falls to your sister, a reminder before he goes completely.

“She’s so cute, I can’t.” Jungkook chuckles.

“Right… my sister was definitely not that cute when we were younger.” you tease, earning an arched brow to your way from your sister. 

“I was the cuter one between us, it’s an established fact,” she rolls her eyes. “When you two get a kid, it better look like Jungkook.” 

Maybe the remark sounded like such a throw-away comment that Jungkook just laughs it off as if it isn’t the first time somebody hinted at you two starting a family. Or maybe he just thinks it isn’t a big deal. Or maybe… maybe he likes the idea? 

You’re about to say something when your sister turns to you.

“You,” she takes you by the shoulders and you look back at her. “You might want to retouch your make-up. Party’s starting soon. And this charcuterie looks—” she looks to the side as if to check if Nari is still around, and when she deems she isn’t at all, she continues to say, “fucking perfect. I love you.” 

“Duh.” you reply, cockily showing off the board to her and to Jungkook who intriguingly looks at your work. 

“I knew you should have been a chef.” Jungkook comments proudly, grinning at you.

“Alright, man,” your sister says in a flat tone, making Jungkook and you laugh. “Jungkook, can help me transfer these to the dining table, please?” She points to the trays of food and Jungkook rounds the counter so he can do just as she requested. 

Before you can head to the powder room, Jungkook brushes past your waist – just one of the candid things he does to have some sort of physical contact with you when you’re not necessarily talking together or close to each other.

It puts a smile on your face as you enter the powder room. 

Inside, you make quick work of putting another layer of lipstick and pressing powder on your face, checking your hair before you stand upright and look at your reflection in the mirror.

You step backwards enough to see half of your body, and from there, you can see how beautiful you look in the outfit you’ve chosen for tonight. It’s a satin red dress with a halter neckline, the gathered drape cascading gracefully around your neck, exposing your shoulders. The silhouette fits at the waist and flows into a straight skirt that stops inches below your knees, and Jungkook may have had a hard time letting you go in your bedroom before you drove to your sister’s place – but you promised him a good time when you get back home so in the end, he had to tuck in a semi on the way from here.

Poor Jungkook. 

Though… you’re beginning to think poor you, instead.

Because you’re thinking about it again. Him in his outfit tonight; the silk polo so he can match yours, and the way he looked so good with a baby girl in his strong arms. 

You can already picture how good he'd look with his own child. He’d be the type of dad who looks effortlessly hot with a baby carrier, showers his kids with gifts because he can’t help himself, and simply excels at being a wonderful father because he’s Jeon Jungkook and he excels in everything he sets his mind to.

Now your brain’s going on a haywire. 

Because now it’s just Jungkook. Hot Jungkook. Jungkook with a baby. Jungkook looking smoking hot carrying his own baby – your baby. 

And wouldn’t it be nice? To carry a being formed by your mutual love? To have someone as adorable and smart and sassy as Nari? God. You hope she’d look like you, but have Jungkook’s eyes because they are your favorite part of him, and then his nose, maybe? And… and maybe have the mole under his lip too, if that was possible. Jungkook had a lot of hair when he came out of his mom’s womb, would your daughter have a lot of hair as well when you give birth to her? 

And why are you already thinking of the gender of your non-existent child? 

You think you’ve gone nuts, but the indulgent little devil on your shoulder is insisting that Jungkook would look so good with a baby girl because you know he’d be such a girl dad. There’s just absolutely no doubt about it, given how he treats Nari. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror again, and absentmindedly, you turn to the side, noting the very clear absence of a bump on your stomach unlike your sister’s. 

Would you carry a baby as gracefully as her? You know her struggles… but… maybe you won’t mind it with a husband like Jungkook… right? Just like she doesn’t mind with a husband like Seokjin. Because Jungkook takes really good care of you. He’d probably panic more than you about certain things. Be extra careful for the both of you. Fetch you your cravings. Love you more than he does now. 

You remember Seokjin rubbing a gentle hand over your sister’s bump, and it brings your own to caress the flat of your stomach over the smooth fabric of your dress. 

Obviously no baby there. But… just imagine. You with a baby bump.

Hah. 

Weird, because it’s the first time the idea’s planted in your head and you kind of like it more than you thought. 

You nibble on your bottom lip as you continue to caress your tummy, not noticing the knock that came from outside. 

“Oh my—” 

“Baby?” 

“Jungkook.” Your hands retreat back to your sides. When you look at Jungkook, standing on the doorway, you let one hand clutch at your chest as you tell him, “You scared me.” 

The door clicks as he locks it behind him. Your husband arches his brow as he goes over to you. “What are you so jumpy for?” 

You ignore the question, looking back to the mirror again to fix your dress. But as you do so, you see his reflection – and you catch how he intently stares at you through the glass as well, walking behind you closer and pressing himself against you. His proximity suddenly makes you nervous.

“You should’ve knocked.” 

“I did. You didn’t answer.” 

“I didn’t hear.” When you turn around, Jungkook takes a curled strand of hair over your face and tucks it behind your ear. 

“You look beautiful. So gorgeous.” He says before he wraps his arms around your waist and presses a kiss to your lips, one that you welcome fully even though you just reapplied your lipstick. When you break away, you see some remnants on his lips… and realize you picked the wrong lipstick for tonight. You should’ve brought the kiss-proof lippy instead.

You wipe it off and Jungkook smiles before he ducks down, not caring, and kisses your cheek for good measure before he speaks again, “What were you doing in here?” He wiggles his eyebrows, as if he knows you were up to something before he barged in. 

You avoid his gaze and turn back around. 

“Nothing,” You say, trying to busy yourself with your hair again. But Jungkook can be really annoying when he wants to be, so of course he pushes, quite literally and figuratively. 

“What was it? I saw you…” He teases, pushing his nose in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, tightening his hold around you. 

“What did you– Jungkook!” You half-snort and scoff when Jungkook bites your neck playfully. You turn around to push him, but he’s insistent on keeping the nonexistent space between you and cages you in his big presence instead, trapping you in between the edge of the sink and the heat of his body. 

“This damn dress…” Jungkook whispers as he splays his hand over your stomach, which makes your breath hitch. 

Did he really see? See you pretending to have a baby bump at the thought of him impregnating you? 

But Jungkook doesn’t really say anything further, just lets an idle finger run over the curve of your hips up to your waist, until it stops at the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

“Can’t wait to fuck you in this.” He whispers in your ear, eyes meeting your gaze in the mirror, not subtle in the way he checks out your body after. 

You huff out a scoff, giving a little more force into the push that you give him this time. His more relaxed hold on you makes him stumble a little bit backwards, chuckling when you roll your eyes at him once again. 

“You’re not even gonna take it off me?” You ask as your turn on the tap, arching your brow at Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror. 

A sly smirk makes an appearance on his lips. “I don’t need to take anything off to make you cum, baby.” 

You turn around, leaning on the sink. “So you’re saying you’re not interested at all about my very elaborate choice of underwear tonight, then?” 

That catches him off guard, his brows furrowed in confusion and then realization.

“You minx.” 

You chuckle, swatting his hand away when he tries to touch you. When he whines, you take a step forward and wrap your arms around his neck, and Jungkook’s predictably eager to encircle your waist in his arms back again. 

“Later. We have to keep it PG for at least three hours tonight. And you can—” you push at his chest for leverage so you can lean down a little to ride your dress up your thighs. Looking at Jungkook, you watch as he stares at you closely, intently, but oblivious to what you’re doing. He clearly enjoys it, though, judging from the hint of a smile on his lips and the shine in his eyes when more of your skin gets revealed. 

Especially when he catches a glimpse of your white lace underwear that he bought for you himself.

He whistles, and you roll your eyes at the predictable reaction. Taking one of his hands off you, you guide it in between your thighs, earning an involuntary moan from you because Jungkook’s palm automatically cups your heat when he gets close. 

“Ah…” 

“Fuck…” Jungkook looks down where his hand meets your core. ���Goddamn,” He says, then you feel him push your panties to the side, dipping the tip of his finger in your pussy. “Why the fuck are you so wet, baby?”

“Y-yeah…” You whine against his chest, gripping his wrist when he attempts to move again. “Kook, don’t.” 

Jungkook halts. He looks at you. Then, he nods. “Alright. Alright. Stop this here?” 

“Hm.” 

He looks down at you with an arched brow. “You started it, though.” 

“You were being flirty.” You say as Jungkook brings your underwear back in place, but not without squeezing your ass first. You nibble on your bottom lip as he rides down the dress, letting it dangle on your knees back again, smoothing the front for you to get rid of the wrinkles. 

“Not my fault you’re hot,” he snorts. “Fuck.” 

“What?” 

“I’m kinda hard…” He says, and you both look down to the bump on his white slacks. Certainly not his full potential (like… you’d know), but it’s still apparent in the light color of his trouser. 

“Poor baby,” you say, can’t help but pat it a little condescendingly which earns a chuckle from Jungkook, him playfully swatting your hand away. 

“You’re so…” 

“I’m so what.” 

Jungkook’s face is a mixture of frustration and amusement. “You always do this shit.” 

You giggle, knowing exactly what he means. But you act like you have no clue. “What?” 

“Get me horny then leave.” He shakes his head, then pokes your waist. 

Chuckling, you kiss him on the cheek quickly, making a beeline to the door quickly lest he tries to kiss you again (and you’ll have no choice but to make out in your sister’s powder room, during her big Christmas party, mind you) and then give him a wink before you go.

 

The ride on the way home felt like it took sixty five years, and it might just be true especially when you’re horny as hell and you got a husband behind the steering wheel looking effortlessly hot in his element. 

You’ve been hot and bothered for hours, and maybe it’s the champagne – probably has gotten in your brain or whatever – but Jungkook was not even done parking when you made a move to palm him over the console. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook hissed, clearly not expecting it at all. He had that wide-eyed look when he frantically turned off the engine, staring at you while your hand grew heavy on his crotch. “Here?” You bit on your bottom lip as you nodded your head. He looked beyond conflicted. “But baby, we’re just ten floors away from our u–”

“Please?” 

And what was he supposed to say? No? 

Absolutely not. Not when your glassy eyes looked so pleading the way they did.   

He just makes your insides churn, especially when you look at him. And for the past few hours, you couldn’t stop thinking about his dick inside you and most especially his cum. (Translation: You can’t stop thinking about him fucking a baby into you).

But… the thing was, you’ve only ever fucked in a car once.

Jungkook’s way too pesky about stuff like that, and somehow, even though he’s already been made aware of your exhibitionist tendencies (cue unprompted sex in public areas like that one time in the beach, window sex at a Ritz hotel back in London and… admittedly many more…) car sex was just… a least favorite. The first and only time you did it was when you were still fresh into dating; at a drive-thru cinema, but it was kind of a whack in both your opinions because it was too cramped up and you bumped your head and you almost got caught which is way too embarrassing of a memory to ever revisit. 

But now maybe that really doesn't matter anymore.

Not when your husband looks like that.

And bottomline is: you just really, really want him to cum in you. 

Oh god. What is wrong with your head tonight? 

“Baby, fuuuck,” Jungkook hisses as you speed up your rhythm up and down his cock. His boxers and slacks are pushed down to the middle of his thighs while his shirt is all but buttoned. Meanwhile, your dress is bunched up in your mid-section. 

You’re near tears on his lap at this point, already feeling your thighs straining at the force you’re exerting in every bounce – but you couldn’t care less. 

“Oh my god, baby– you feel so good,” you moan, eyes shutting close at the feel of his tip hitting that spot inside you whenever you go down.

For the first few minutes, Jungkook took it upon himself to guide your hips in every movement just like he always does when you ride him like this, pounding into you from underneath, but he eventually let you control the pace, leaning way back to the reclined seat and watches you work instead. He stares at you with hooded eyes as you push yourself up and down on his hardened cock, stiletto heels digging the side of his thighs occasionally.

While you pleasure yourself on him, he slides your dress up further, gets a little frustrated that it’s tight on the waist so he can’t push it past your tits. So he feels for your nape to find the zipper because he knows it’s there – he zipped you up in this dress before you drove to your sister’s place – and he delights when he finds the small, cold material, pulling it down blindly until you noticed and help him get yourself out of it. 

Jungkook sighs when the top comes down, snapping the clip of your sleeveless bra and getting it out of the way before he greedily fondles your now bare breasts in his huge palms. 

“Ohh,” you moan when Jungkook flicks your nipples, getting them even harder. You push yourself back, leaning into one elbow on the steering wheel as you begin to rock against him in a back and forth motion,

“Fuck—” Jungkook lets out a guttural groan, squeezing your tits tighter that makes you keen in want. “So fucking sexy, baby. Shit – damn – l-love you.” 

“I-I love you too,” you say, more like a whine, chasing a high he knows is impending. 

Jungkook looks up at you with hooded eyes. Your hair that was once tidy and neat three hours ago is now all over the place, the high bun loosening and some strands falling off your pretty face. Your lipstick smudged and he’s sure the remnants are on his lips, and with your mouth agaped in that erotic o-shape while you pleasure yourself on his cock, Jungkook feels like exploding. 

“Ah– shit,” he groans, feeling the warm crevice of your wet pussy swallow him whole. When you climbed over his lap a while ago after he fingered you, he was gonna take out a condom from the glove compartment but you insisted to not use it, and the picture of you looking down while he pushed your panties to the side and looked into each other’s eyes as you sank down on him is still playing in his head like a broken record.

God fuck damn, you’re just so unreal. The love of his life. His wife. 

He wipes your tear-stained cheeks, torn because he doesn’t like seeing you cry but he does like it when it’s because you’re so eager to bounce on his cock that even though you know you’re pushing it, you continue to do so.

Jungkook lets his hand travel from a boob to linger on your cheek, and he keens on the way you purr when you lean into his touch, smiling slightly when you open your mouth as his thumb nears it. 

You eagerly suck it as if verbally prompted, opening your eyes just so you can stare at his as you lewdly slobber over his finger while you expertly move against his cock, breasts jiggling up and down right in front of his face – the obscene squelches of your lovemaking filling the air of his cramped up benz. 

“You’re so perfect, baby,” Jungkook whispers. “Perfect girl. You love bouncing on my cock, love? Just couldn’t wait until we get home? Hm?” His tone is a bit condescending and cocky. 

When Jungkook takes out his finger from your mouth, you bite your lip as you nod, resuming your up and down motion again. Slamming down on his dick, your hands come up to grip his shoulders tight. 

“We are home.” 

Jungkook chuckles, a rich and dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. A snarky remark gets buried in your throat when you feel a certain zap of electricity coming from your toes to your spine, the hot coil in your stomach edging to burst.

“I’m cumming– oh my god, Jungkook– baby I’m cumming—” You say, speeding up your pace once again. 

With your breasts bouncing in front of his face like that, he couldn’t help but dive right into it, wrapping his lips around one nipple, nipping and sucking and licking, while he busies one hand with fondling the other. He alternated in between both tits, groaning and grunting when your pussy tightens around him, and one more slam on his cock gets you spiraling as you finally cum. 

Jungkook closes his eyes when he feels you gush around him, and he really wishes that he could lay you down, spread you out, and eat the slick right out of you just like how he likes it.

“That’s it, baby – fuck. Good girl, good girl.” 

A long, drawl-out moan slips past your lips, and Jungkook takes it upon himself to keep you bouncing on his cock when your energy dwindles down, rocking his hips upwards, just as eager to reach his high as well. 

You try to pick up your pace to help him, planting your palms on his bare chest to meet his thrusts. 

“Fuck baby, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” Jungkook says in a hushed whisper, groaning, squeezing your ass tight that you know will leave marks the next day. 

“I know, baby – cum for me,” You lean down to capture his lips, whimpering when you feel yourself still coming down from your high.

“Ohh fuuck—” Jungkook moans, a tell-tale sign of his orgasm. “Fuck, I’m cumming—” 

It’s almost second nature the way he looks down on your crotch, hand going over to where you meet – and you almost panic when you realize what he’s about to do. 

“Jungkook, no,” you stop his hand, and he looks at you with utter confusion, rightfully so. Biting your lip, you stare into his eyes as you say, “I want you to come inside me.” 

You watch as his eyes widen, then, “You sure?” He says with furrowed brows.

You nod your head frantically. “Please come in me. I want your come in me. Please, please—” 

“Jesus fuck—” Jungkook’s hips stutter, his grip on yours tightening, gaze darkening as he processes your words. “Fuck. Okay, baby. No need to beg, okay? Fuck. I’ll come inside you.” 

You speed up your pace and you can feel yourself getting there for a second time, and maybe it’s the heat of the moment, but your next words fall from your lips without much thought: “Yeah, yeah –give it to me, Kook. Want your– ah– want your babies.” 

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses, taken aback by your words. “Fuuuck…” He looks up at you, grabs your waist and makes you lean closer. “You mean that?” 

You nod your head, jumping on his cock up and down like your life depends on it. “Want your babies. Want you to cum in me.” 

“Shiiitt,” Jungkook sighs, and you feel him getting harder by the second. “Gonna– gonna fuck a baby in you, baby. Fuck. You don’t know what you do to me– shit, I’m cumming.” 

You both moan in unison when Jungkook finally releases inside you the same time you do so, his cock hardening in your walls, throbbing when you settle down on his lap with him still buried inside you. When the seconds pass, you feel the exhaustion wrapping around you, and you let Jungkook trail kisses up your shoulders and neck at the post-coital momentum. 

“Fuck, that was so hot.” He whispers against your lips, kissing your parted mouth. You sigh against it, all sweaty and fucked out. 

“Oh, baby…” You moan when Jungkook lifts you up and you feel yourself dripping from your cum. 

“Fucking hell, so beautiful baby...” Jungkook trails off, squeezing your breasts before pushing you gently to lean back on the steering wheel. You look down as you watch with a gasp when he slides his cock out from your heat, covered in white and slick, moaning lewdly when he pumps it out for more. 

Some of it spurts on your pussy, and you stare in awe when Jungkook inserts the tip once again in your heat, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the blurred lines between pleasure and overstimulation. 

“Goddammit.” Jungkook sighs, gratified, tapping his cock on your pussy a few times before he grabs your hips again so he can kiss you on the mouth. It almost gives you whiplash when he looks at you with such sincere and genuine eyes as he says, “I love you.” 

“Love you,” you say, closing your eyes when his kisses trail to your jaw and his hands come up to fondle your tits again. His favorite fixation – his words, not yours. “Kook.” 

“Hm.” 

“Sticky.” 

He hums again. You keep your position like that for a few more seconds before Jungkook helps put your panties and dress back in place, picking you up slightly as you climb over the passenger seat. 

You watch as he pulls his boxers and pants back up, buckling his belt around the waist. He hasn’t fixed the unbuttoned state of his shirt yet before he looks at you again with a smile.

“Come here, you,” He says, beckoning you to come closer with his arm around your seat. You grin, crossing the console again to meet the kiss he gives your mouth. Then, Jungkook breaks the contact, caressing your cheek as he speaks. “Babies, huh?” He brings up, eyes so bright; delighted, excited. He has that unshakeable grin. 

And you can’t help but mirror it. 

“Do you want to?” You ask instead. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you nervously wait for his answer that doesn’t really take that long. 

“Fuck, yeah. If you want to, then I want to,” he responds. Then, he adds, “And I really, really want to.”

“Okay…” you say, biting your lip to keep yourself from smiling too much. “But it doesn’t have to be now. Or I don’t know. I know it’s only been a year since we got married and all that—” 

“Baby, stop,” Jungkook says before you can finish your thought. “Doesn’t matter if we were one month into the marriage. As long as you’re ready, then I’m ready. Are you ready?”

A few beats. 

It was your horny-adled brain that got you in this position in the first place – but you think about how life with Jungkook would be like with kids added in the equation in the near future.

It would be so far from bad. 

The past year had been nothing short of bliss since you married him, and as you watched Jungkook, a thought warmed your heart: he’d be an incredible dad. The way he loves you, so deeply and selflessly, leaves no doubt in your mind that he’d go above and beyond for your child—or children. You’re certain he’d love them as much as he loves you, perhaps even more.

A smile spreads across your face, and you nod to his question.

“I want a family with you, Kook.”

Jungkook’s face lights up with a delighted smile, mirroring yours. “So, we’re doing this?”

You nod again, biting your lip to temper your excitement.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

You blink at him in surprise. “Why are you thanking me?”

He shakes his head with a gentle smile and leans in to kiss you again. “Just… thank you.”

You furrow your brows, squinting at him in playful confusion. Before you can say more, he leans forward and nips the tip of your nose.

“Ow!” you exclaim, laughing.

“You’re cute,” Jungkook teases. “But we’ve gotta clean up and head home. Then, we can keep practicing putting my baby in you—on a nice, comfortable bed this time.” He winks, pecking your cheek as he buttons his shirt and unbuckles his seatbelt.

You snort, rolling your eyes as you do the same. “Admit it, you like car sex.”

Jungkook hums nonchalantly, his cheeky grin giving him away. You chuckle, shaking your head at him, love radiating in every moment between you.

[teapartyprincess4two]

On Stream- M. Sturniolo

pairing: gf!reader x bf!Matt

classification: fluff

warnings: use of y/n, short, slight cursing, some suggestive comments

summary: Matt mentions you on stream, causing the chat to go crazy.

—

Nowadays it seems that Matt and Chris have an abnormal amount of free time.

The pair have spent the past few days running errands, catching up on chores, spending quality time together, and unwinding. But two energetic young men can only do so much relaxing before it becomes unbearably boring, especially without you and Nick around.

Nick’s somewhere across the globe, relishing in the perks of having good friends. He’s experiencing the world with a sense of individuality, having been apart from his triplet brothers for over a week.

Without Nick around the house is quiet and boring enough, but Chris and Matt can usually count on you to keep them company. But it seems that they see you less and less every day.

You aren’t somewhere far away, not physically at least, you’re just very, very busy. As you enter the fall semester, you’re juggling a multitude of responsibilities including school, work, your social life, and your relationship. But as you adjust to your crazy hectic schedule, you spend less time at home with Matt and more time nose deep in a book.

So, just as the brothers grow accustomed to the eerie silence that haunts the halls of their home and the boredom that settles into their everyday lives, they decide enough is enough and take up a new hobby. Streaming.

Today, as Matt anchors himself in his rolling chair, his eyes skim through the endless chats that flood his screen. Chris sits next to him, a vibrant and excited smile adorning his features.

This is their third consecutive day going live on Twitch. At first they went live to entertain and chat with their fans, but now they’re doing it to occupy their bored minds.

Chris’s eyes skim the chat, fixating on one message in particular. He subconsciously reads it aloud, “Is Y/n on tour with Nick? We miss her.”

After reading the comment, the chat was flooded with similar messages asking for you. Matt slumps into his chair, the mention of your name reminding him that it’s been a week since he’s seen you.

“Nah, she’s just busy with school right now,” Chris replies mindlessly, skimming for another comment to read.

A lot of the viewers noticed Matt’s mood shift. They noticed the way his eyes drooped and the way the corners of his mouth turned into a frown. They especially noticed the disassociated look he wore, mind traveling to a place only you could bring him out of.

“Matt,” Chris says, waving a hand in front of his brother’s face. No response. “Matt!” He tries again, louder this time. Matt still doesn’t respond, only coming back into reality when Chris violently shakes his shoulders.

“What, dude? What?!” Matt asks, annoyance evident in his tone.

“Your phone’s ringing.” Chris replies with an eye roll and a small scoff.

Suddenly the blaring ring registers in Matt’s mind as he pats his pockets in search of his phone. When he finally finds it, your name illuminated the screen.

“Who’s calling?” Chris asks, stretching out his neck in hopes of catching a nosy glimpse at the caller ID.

“Umm be right back chat. Y/n’s calling,” Matt says, words spewing out a mile a minute. He disappears from the room faster than ever, immediately pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby.” Your voice is music to Matt’s ears. It feels like forever since he’s last heard it.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “everything okay?”

You hum in response, followed by a soft yawn.

“You sound tired. When are you coming home?” Matt asks, softly leaning against the wall. You’ve been at school all day stuck in lectures and studying, so Matt knows you need some well deserved rest.

“I’m on my way now. That’s why I called, wanted to see if you guys were hungry so I could pick up something to eat.”

The excitement that courses through Matt’s veins is unreal, winding him up with enough energy to last until tomorrow. He can’t wait to see you, hold you, kiss you, and make up for all the lost time.

“Whatever you want, baby,” he replies, pausing for a second to compose himself, “I just wanna see you.”

A warm smile graces your features and if Matt could see it he’d mirror your expression.

“I’ll be home soon don’t worry. How’s the stream going?”

“Huh?” For a second Matt forgot that he and his brother were live streaming for thousands of people.

“The stream. Aren’t you live with Chris right now?”

“Ohhh. It’s going… it’s going good.” Matt replies with a soft sigh.

Your smile is momentarily replaced with a frown. “It doesn’t sound like it’s going good. What’s wrong?”

Matt’s fingers pinch the bridge of his nose before gliding across his eyelids and massaging the tense nerves and muscles on his face. “It’s going fine. I just can’t focus. The chat keeps asking about you and it’s honestly making me really sad.”

A small chuckle escapes your lips. “Aww my poor baby. Can’t focus on Fortnite?”

“Not Fortnite.”

“Oops, sorry. Fall Guys?

“Y/n.” Matt warns, though he finds it slightly funny too.

“I’m joking, I’m joking. I’ll be home soon with some good food and open arms. We can cuddle and watch a movie, or do anything else you wanna do. Okay?”

Matt feels his spirit lighten up again, a cheeky smirk forming on his face. “Anything?”

“Don’t push it,” you laugh.

Just as Matt’s about to respond, he’s cut short by Chris calling his name from inside the room.

“Get back to your stream. I’ll be home soon, handsome.”

Matt’s lips form a silly pout you can’t even see as he replies, “But I wanna keep talking to you. Miss you so much.”

“MATT!” Chris calls again, this time much louder than the last.

“We’ll talk all you want when I get home. Now go! I have the stream pulled up on my computer and I think Chris is gonna start twerking,” you say, trying your best not to laugh.

“Holy fuck this kid,” Matt groans, face palming. “Alright baby, I love you. Drive safe.”

“I love you too,” you say through small giggles before hanging up.

When Matt renters the room, he’s not surprised to find Chris dancing for the camera. He pushes past him and settles back into his rolling chair wearing a huge, toothy smile.

“What did Y/n want?” Chris asks, briefly glancing at Matt as he switches from doing the griddy to shuffling across the room.

“Just asked if we were hungry,” Matt shrugs, attempting to act nonchalant, but there’s no hiding the newfound pep in his step.

“And it took you that long?”

“I was catching up with my girl. —Why the fuck are you still dancing?”

“Someone gifted,” Chris says, slightly breathless as he bops from corner to corner.

“Alright…” Matt shifts towards the computer, “What did I miss?”

He reads comments, expecting most of them to be about Chris and his absurd dancing skills, but he’s surprised to find that they’re all about you.

Some fans ask where you are, others ask what you’re doing, some speculate on the conversation you and Matt had, and others simply comment on how much happier Matt seems since talking to you.

All Matt can do is smile and patiently wait for you to arrive, ready to bombard you with kisses as soon as you step through the door.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: hi babies! Hope you enjoy this short oneshot! I know I haven’t updated or posted much in a longggg time but I honestly had writers block :P I’m trying to get into the habit of writing again, so bear with me pls. I have a lotttt of drafts (some that just need to be edited) so be expecting that soon! Luv you all 😚

- L.A.M.B🪽💝

—

taglist: @nickgetsmewetter @sturniololovers @raysmayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03 @k-l-a-w-s @maryx2xx @biggesthat3r @herxyzblog @getosuckers @sturnioloarchive @tillies33ssss @fratbrochrisgf @rxeae @riasturns @sturnikitty @sturnrc @sturtriple16 @sillyfreakfanparty @imwetforyourmom @mattslovelygf @certifiednatelover @cartiiwannagotoplutoo @luvr4miya @somegirlfromasgard @l0vergrlll @pepsicolapussy333 @unbruisable @sugrhigh @khxna @wh0resstuff @jnkvivi @callsignwidow @sturnstvr @inkyray-deactivated20240729 @stasiesturn @poopiepantsworld @cvnt4matty @eleanore2204 @jhutchismyl0verb0y

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐 if your user is striked through, I wasn’t able to tag you :(

[give-some-lemons]

“Accidents happen”

Pregnancy headcanons with Silco

Tags: pregnancy; unplanned pregnancy; older man/younger woman; topside reader.

~ when you first met him it was an interesting and pleasant surprise for you to finally see how the famous and so fearful Eye of Zaun looked like. A man who aged like the most expensive wine from your family’s collection with a sharp features, a few grey strands in his hair and, of course, a red eye, which you could compare to a comet drifting in a night sky.

~ everything about him was nothing like you expected it to be — his clothes, behavior, manner of speaking was more similar to a topside one and that… intrigued. A man who hates Piltover and its citizens but wants to live and look like them? You let an evil chuckle out, while he pressed his scarred lips to the back of your hand.

~ for him you were an exotic exemplar, a topside aristocrat who’s father was probably his age, but despite that fact you were still showing interest in him, keeping your sight on his face and body much longer than etiquette allows, saying ambiguous things that a young lady of your status should not even think about, trying to get under his skin.

~ at the late nights he dreamed about those gaze looking at him from the bottom up, those lips on the most intimate parts of his body and this silk hair in his hand while he guides you in a way he needs the most. You were driving him insane, leaving him without any thought except the sinful ones where lust was completely taking control of him

~ it was only a couple of nights between two of you, when your fingers that ran along his shoulder or chest was turning a peaceful evening into an act of passion and pleasures. When his previous meeting was so unsuccessful that the next second you walked in his office you were finding yourself on his desk with his lips on the soft skin of your neck. When you felt an arousal blooming in your lower abdomen just because of the way his fingers moved through his hair or loosening his tie.

~ you loved teasing him especially in the most inappropriate places like his office, filled with people who came for business reasons, and then watch how he slowly succumbs to his lustful desires, making every possible effort for the meeting to be over as quickly as possible. After his partners left the room, you were literally thrown onto a nearby sofa with his slender posture looming over you and his teeth biting into the softness of your skin.

~ after some time, there were certain signals that you wished to ignore: weakness throughout your body, feelings of nausea at the most inconvenient times of the day and mild, barely noticeable pains in the lower abdomen. You were scared, more to say terrified by the fact that a tiny life was already growing inside of you.

~ sitting in his office and discussing another topic, related to your family business you could feel his hand caressing and squeezing your thigh wanting nothing more than to take you right there, leaving all of the stress he had during the day behind and forgetting himself in the softness of your skin. That’s exactly the time when you tell him about the consequences of your passionate nights that already came to life.

~ at first he freezes, studying you with his piercing gaze, most likely searching for any signs of deceit or the most terrible joke he's ever heard in his life. Covered with a mask of indifference, that he mastered for a lot of years deep inside he’s shocked, in the greatest disbelief that it’s even possible in his age. Only when the man lightened a cigarette and inhaled the soothing smoke into his lungs, he broke a heavy silence with his hoarse voice.

— Are… you sure?

A young woman in front of him sighs slightly raising her eyebrows in annoyance, as she always did.

— I called a doctor this morning, how do you think?

An older man emits another puff of smoke with a dark chuckle. Raising a child he doesn’t even wanted with a woman he had in his bed a few times was not something he planned to, especially knowing how hard it is. He already has a kid, a stubborn young woman who he loves with all his heart and he really wishes to just shrug, leaving aristocrat at fate’s will along with his seed growing inside of her, but he hesitates for a split of second.

— What are you planning to do?

She nervously purses her lips into a thin line trying her best not to lose her face, her confidence before him even tho a man can tell the truth just by how her body language changed. She was frightened. An heir of a noble family, an arrogant piltie and a young girl who’s future was brighter than the sky over her head is now sitting with a head of the biggest criminal organization, who probably was suitable for her as a father discussing his child in her belly.

— I’ll keep it.

Of course, what else she could say now, when there’s not so much options left for her. Deep down she probably knows the answer to her own question — he will not help, she’s on her own now and it feels as if the whole world had fallen with an unbearable weight on her shoulders.

— I’ll take care of everything you’ll need.

She finally raised her gaze to the man across from her after a long starring at a smoldering ashes in a bright painted ashtray. Despite that her face didn’t show any emotion her heart skipped a beat fulfilling chest with warmth.

~ in the next days he already was in your family’s mansion talking with your parents about your current situation and you could see that judging look on their faces, mentally returning in those times when you was a little guilty kid who broke something or get a complaint from your teacher. At first they even tried to completely ignore your whole existence without saying a word or giving any glance at your side, but it seems like over time they reconciled with the idea that in a short amount of time they’ll become grandparents.

~ you both reach an agreement that you better to stay in Piltover, to not let rumors spread all over the undercity and to interfere his enemies to use you in their hatred and plans about him. That was the motive of why you needed to stop paying him visits no matter of the purpose. You stayed in your family mansion with his loyal people almost always keeping an eye on you and ensuring that your wishes and orders are fulfilled.

~ even tho he cannot be with you by obvious reasons during your hard times he regularly visits you to make sure that you’re doing well often fulfilling whims of his dear girl and the tiny creature, that develops inside of her. But mostly first one, massaging slightly swollen areas of your body, talking you through nausea and frequent dizziness in your head and, of course, spoiling you. Anything that slips through your conversation be it some kind of jewelry, hobby or food you can later found delivered right to your room with a beautifully written note that makes a smile on your face bloom leaving cheeks painted pink.

~ despite the fact that he doesn’t show it he really cares for your child and you can tell it by his hand that sometimes rests on your belly and suggestions about how it would be better for the baby to listen to your voice or music even if it didn’t form into an embryo yet. Also was the one who insisted on a complete change in your diet consuming more plant foods and animal protein even if you struggle with one of it he’ll make sure you eat it.

~ secretly he wants and honestly waits for another girl, thinking about how Jinx will take care of her younger sister, protecting and spending time together, even tho he’s a little bit afraid of her influence. In the end one hyperactive kid who likes to get into troubles is enough for him. But he hopes that mostly you’ll be the one to frequent with a child at least because he’s too busy and, for his own taste, too old to mess around with a noisy little creature who needs to be watched all the time.

~ when the childbirth finally comes he’s informed immediately after the water broke, by your maid, a woman who had worked for him for lots of years and as soon as this man is free from his duties as the ruler of the whole city he’ll rush to you to be by your side during the parturition. He probably will not be allowed to come near you so he would just sit there waiting for your pain and screams of suffering to be over as soon as possible.

~ holding a little boy on his hands he feels range of emotions while the child surprisingly calmly looks at him studying with its curious blue ocean eyes, just like his own. As if for a split second the whole world had shrunk, leaving no one in it except him and this little one just to observe, figure out how exactly to feel about each other: fear, concern… love? But after a moment passed he was already standing there, holding the small, fragile creature closer to his chest.

~ despite him not loving you in a conventional way, it seems like he developed really warm feelings towards you as one of his closest people, the one whom he values. You were his business partner, a mother of his child who mostly had the same goals as he — protect his son for any cost and give anything to raise him properly, as a person he himself could never be on the streets of his city. Sometimes, while sharing so rare and precious moments of your child peacefully sleeping together, you’d understand him better often comforting him even if he didn’t ask for it, while your head rests on his shoulder or your fingers find his.

~ it took a lot of efforts, mostly from your parents’ side, to finally arrange the marriage appealing on the fact that many people, including other prominent families that was respected by yours, won’t accept this child as an heir without an official confirmation. Through his discontent, annoyed sights and frowning eyebrows he ended up signing all the required papers making you his dear wife, as he often called you. And although it did not give any benefits to either you or him, many from the Council and Chem barons wanted to find leverage and establish control over the other side, but so far without any success.

Few years later

Man was sitting in his office overwhelmed with a pile of papers on his desk and a boy on his lap, who was drawing something in his own notebook which cover was painted and signed with his name with his favorite crayons. Pink and blue. Of course, following his sister in every way possible, but at least his fears were in vain. Even tho boy wanted to imitate his older sibling in many things he was calmer and much more sensible than many children his age, probably thanking to his father’s genetics and education, but it didn’t mean that sometimes he wasn’t capricious just like his mother.

— When will mom return? — the boy asked raising his big-eyed gaze to man’s face.

He sighed on this question. His dear wife was attending a meeting which was related to the family business, now fully belonged to her after her parents’ retirement. As was planned from the very beginning she was the one who took care of their child, sometimes resorting to Jinx’ help who was more than happy to assist. She perceived the girl, who was supposed to be her stepmother as a close friend, often visiting mansion and lingering there for a long time hanging around with her, to his own astonishment and relief.

— I don’t know. — man answers honestly. — Why? You don’t like it here?

Kid continued to stare at his father whom he looked so much like, with his dark hair and light blue eyes, looked at everyone around them inquiringly and at the same time warily. After some time spend with his older parent he even started to emulate man’s behavior and expression, ordering around to a bunch of his nannies which left his mother in touching awe. His blood, his heir who, as he sincerely hopes, will never see his people, people of Zaun in poverty, the one for whom he and his darling partner have to work even harder to achieve their common goals before these child’s eyes could see a cruelty of this two-faced world.

— I like being with you and mom.

He felt his heart melting from such a simple words of his child, this innocent little one who loved him with all heart. Smiling, he leaned over to boy’s forehead leaving a kiss and pulling him closer to his chest. His little family, people for whom he could easily give his life away if he’d need to, who cared for him no matter what, that’s something definitely worth fighting for.

[meow-xine]

hiii, this has been stuck on my head for days so i just had to write it.

word count: 1.7k words

pairing: prohero!iida x afab!reader

cw: sorry this is a lot of just smut.. no real plot

not proofread, sorrryyyy :’)

ProHero!Iida who was never one for intimacy. He was always too busy with work and running his firm, never having time to look into relationships aside from the practicality that they could bring; double incomes, continuing bloodlines. They weren’t his thing.

ProHero!Iida who’s attention was captured by you, the newest hire at the firm. Something about the way you carried yourself was so captivating to the young hero.

ProHero!Iida who found himself sneaking unnoticed glances at you when he could. Making excuses to talk to you when in the office. He figured he would wait for you to take initiative, show some interest. After all, relationships weren’t his thing.

ProHero!Iida who noticed his glances getting returned, met with a smile from your pink glossed lips. Starting more idle conversations, too distracted by the sweet notes of your perfume to speak of anything notable.

ProHero!Iida who slowly works up the courage to ask you to drinks one night, having much more of a fun and special night than he could have ever expected. The mood between the two of you at work had uplifted, being much more light for the two of you.

Drinks now becoming a common meeting place for the both of you after work or on the weekends. Iida, after many pep talks in the mirror, had now begun to muster up the courage to ask you to something more formal, more personal.

“[Name]! Good thing I caught you.” Iida spoke, catching you as you were headed toward the door. “Hm?”

“Apologies, but would you..like to go to dinner with me tonight?” He trembled just a bit.

He cut the silence that followed, thinking he may have gone too far.

“Well, I understand you had a long day actually- I’m sorry for asking so soon, it must be-”

“I would love to!” You interrupted. “That sounds very fun Iida, what time works?”

He smiled, a newfound passion filling him.

ProHero!Iida who couldn’t deny the feelings he had for you anymore, especially after your dinner. Acting like an excited teen boy, letting his desires and thoughts of you consume him deep into the night, later than he would ever think of staying up. Pants and whines filled the hero’s dark room as he palmed his length through his boxers. He felt so..dirty touching himself to his dear colleague. At the same time, he couldn’t help himself. You were the first person he had felt this way about. A heavy sigh left his parted lips as he finished into a nearby towel, still thinking about you.

ProHero!Iida who, now more than ever, wanted to be around you. You had gone on multiple dates with the broad hero, your feelings growing stronger day by day, as were his. One night though, when the two of you were getting ready to leave the restaurant Iida you had just eaten at, he invited you over.

“[Name].. There is something I have been meaning to ask you. If you are comfortable with it, would you accompany me back to my house?” He avoided eye contact and rubbed his arm nervously, expecting rejection.

You were flushed, not knowing what to expect. With how you felt about him, there was no way you could say no. So, you smiled and accepted.

ProHero!Iida who led you into his home, making sure to offer any comfort he could. Drink? Blanket? Was the light too bright? Too dark? You sat down on a couch in the main room, him following next to you.

“[Name], truth be told, I don’t know exactly how to say this.” he started, “I..when I wake up in the morning I think of you. I think of you until I walk into the firm and see you smiling, and the second you’re out of sight I cannot help but let my thoughts continue. You are so dear to me, and I’m not sure I have ever felt like this for anyone. You consume my very being, and I brought you here to tell you that I, I have feelings for you. Feelings that are too strong to hide anymore.”

You couldn’t hide your smile, feeling the same exact way as him. Not to mention how sweet and personal his confession was.

“Tenya,” You paused, searching for the right words to say, “you have no idea what those words mean to me. I would be lying if I said I had no feelings for you, and it makes me so happy to hear that you feel the same.”

ProHero!Iida who couldn’t believe the words that escaped your mouth. His breath hitched, and he found himself scooting closer to you on the couch. The two of you were now painfully close, the room filled with the slow breathing coming from you. Then he asked.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

And all at once he cupped your face and met your lips with his. It started off slow, an innocent deep peck. The kiss deepened and his hands moved from your face, snaking around your waist, pulling you closer.

He pulled away. “[Name].. please,” he spoke, keeping eye contact. “I need you. Let me have you, please.” his voice was now filled with desperation. He made his way to your lips again, then your cheeks, feathering slow kisses along your jawline and down your neck.

“Tenya..” you breathed.

“Do you want me to stop?” He pulled back.

“No, keep going..please.” You whined. You knew how pathetic it sounded, but you couldn’t help the growing heat in your lower belly. You needed to feel relief.

ProHero!Iida who leads the two of you to the bedroom, laying you down. Who takes his time removing each layer of clothing, leaving small kisses in between. The sight of you under him, red and covered by nothing more than a sheer bra and matching panties.

He noticed your attempt to rub your thighs together, trying to relieve the growing pressure.

He smiled, “Let me help you.” He searched for permission in your eyes, only proceeding when you nodded yes.

He wasted no time, dipping his hand into your panties, fingers teasing at your slit. “You’re so wet [Name]..” He rubbed your slick around, finally taking one of his fingers and dipping it inside of you, curling it ever so slightly.

“F-fuck Tenya..” you cursed, embarrassed that all it took to get you hot and bothered was a single finger. He brought his other hand under your bra, prodding at the hardening bud. The combination of pleasure surging through your nerves was almost too much to handle. You already felt yourself nearing your finish. You couldn’t help but whimper under him.

He smiled, knowing he had to be doing something right, and slid another digit in. Watching your face contort as you came undone from just two of his fingers inside you. You grinded your hips down on his hand, needing that final push before you could finish. Your orgasm soon came crashing down on you.

“Oh I’m-!”

“Goooood, that’s good. Ride it out.”

He watched your body intently, noticing how your back curved as your orgasm surged through you.

Your moans were replaced with heavy breathing as he pulled his fingers out and stood up, beginning to undress. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him when he got down to just his boxers, tenting as his erection pressed almost painfully against the fabric.

And he was…big.

You too stood up and made your way over to him, first planting a kiss on his lips. Him leaning down, wrapping his muscular arms around your bare waist. Your hand travelled down, touching his erection through his boxers.

ProHero!Iida who watched your face as you pulled down his boxers, watching his throbbing cock spring up and slap his abdomen. He hissed as air hit his dick.

ProHero!Iida who wasted no time helping you remove your bra and panties, the two of you now completely bare.

You laid down, he followed, now laying next to you. “[Name].. if you don’t mind, could you follow my lead for a moment?” He asked shyly, “Of course. I trust you.”

He rolled you over on your side, his cock now pressing behind you, resting on your back.

“I’m going to enter myself now.. if you need me to stop please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

His arms locked you in place as he wrapped them around your waist tightly. Ever so slowly he put his tip in your warm entrance, moaning at the new sensation.

ProHero!Iida who was now buried deep inside you, relishing in the shape of your walls and and how perfectly they housed him. He dreamt of you, of this very experience, but you far exceeded any expectations.

ProHero!Iida who thrusted inside of you, quickening his pace gradually. Replacing the lewd wet slapping sounds with small words of praise, the position you were in making it easy for him to whisper and nibble on your ear.

ProHero!Iida who wished he could listen to nothing more but your moans and whines, see nothing more than your smaller frame unraveling with his touches.

“You’re doing so good, take it just like that..”

ProHero!Iida who makes sure you finish on his cock before he even thinks about cumming. The sweetest sounds fill his room, his ears, he wants right now to please you more than anything.

As you cum, he continues a steady pace, riding you through it. “Mhm, that’s it.” he grunts, pulling his cock out and pumping it a few times before finishing on your ass.

ProHero!Iida who rushes to draw you a bath and clean you up, preparing you a set of sleeping clothes. He bathes you, apologizing if he went overboard and still showering you with praise.

“You did so good, such a good girl for me.”

ProHero!Iida who lays down next to you, watching you until he’s sure you’re asleep. He feels he can now rest knowing you’re okay. He kisses your forehead once before nuzzling into you and falling asleep too

[blueblossomrose]

Pleaseeeee I wanna see more on leona from the parent thing 🥺

Course! Here we go!

This post is part of the Twisted Parents Series.

Content: Post-canon, Leona being a tired dad, fem!afab!mc, fluffy.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

Being a father was never something that really crossed his mind. Dealing with Cheka, and his own childhood problems, made him skeptical about the idea.

MC kind of knew about it, but she was ready to tell him anyway.

Leona was surprised and at the same time not. He wouldn't verbalize about it, but after the wedding, his mind turned to children for the first time.

He wouldn't say it was a desire to have children, but more like a concept, imagination.

Well, now he didn't have to imagine anymore.

In the first few months, he's sounds neutral. He doesn't hate it, but he has confused mixed feelings about it.

He doesn't feel the huge appeal, and deep down that makes him angry and sad.

Because he knows he's probably not making you feel safe, because he knows he is behaving exactly like his own parents, ignorants of love.

He refuses to ask Farena anything at first, but it gets to a point where he's so upset that he ends up venting to him.

Farena was straightforward in pointing out that Leona doesn't need to force himself to be something he's not. That he doesn't need to doubt his own emotions because of other people's emotions.

And after this conversation, he goes to talk to MC. She, despite being slightly confused too, didn't crucify him for it. Leona continued to protect her with all his might throughout her pregnancy.

When MC's belly grows and he feels the first kick, his mental confusion worsened, conflicting feelings hitting each other, and even though he still seemed indifferent... there was something between and MC notice.

When he held the babies in his arms for the first time, however... his gaze, which had been different, changed completely.

He loved those children. There was no way he could hate them.

He was: "I'm not going to let anything bad happen to them."

And MC was: "I know 😊"

He is a tired father, as expected of him. Yet, he's doing well there.

One of the common scenes is him lying on your lap while you fold clothes or do some other activity, and your children on top of him, pulling his ears and tail while he sleeps.

When they are babies, Leona is ok to stay up with them while MC sleeps. He understands how tiring it is. Plus, he likes to feel important when he sees that the little ones fall asleep more easily when they are in his arms.

Many times you wake up with the babies on top of you because Leona put them in bed to sleep with you two.

As the babies grow, you notice more clearly how docile Leona is with his daughter.

As if anything Zuri asked for, Leona would give it to her.

He would play with her dolls wearing a pink dress if she asked.

Which honestly wouldn't be impossible for her to ask for. Zuri is very demanding.

Totally different from Zayne and Sekani. Zayne is calmer, really quiet. Sekani is a shy, very sweet boy, and slightly fearful...

Zayne enjoys playing board games even at a young age. Leona doesn't mind playing with him often. It's pretty funny when sometimes he ends up losing and looks at his 6 year old son like this: 🤨

He compliments Zayne anyway.

Sekani is undeniably more attached to his mother, since he is the type of child who likes to be pampered with affection and MC is always holding him in her arms.

But Leona also showers him with affection (in a more discreet way), so he enjoys being with his father as well. Leona makes him feel safe, so whenever he is scared, Sekani runs to his father.

Despite sometimes complaining, Leona spends a lot of time with them. A lot of time. MC soon realizes that it is him giving his children the affection and attention that he did not receive.

Also, Cheka joins his cousins to go and bother his uncle. He loves having someone to play with now!

Leona having his three children and nephew glued to him 24 hours a day. Okay, maybe I exaggerated. 8 hours a day.

MC often joins in on the fun. When playing tag, Leona is usually quick to catch her because he knows where she usually hides. He will jump on you without mercy and probably scare you, but he will quickly make you laugh with involuntary tickles.

Leona finds the kids easily. And the kids can find you easily when it's their turn. Hide and seek with beastmen is no fun.

At the end of the day, Leona watches you sleeping in his arms along with the children... and he thinks that love and being loved like that isn't bad at all.

[omgeto]

☆ GHOSTING — GETO SUGURU X READER

summary: after being made aware of your long term ex boyfriends plans to 'fix' the world, you knew that you had to try and stop him. but seeing him for the first time in a decade; all the love, the hate, the heartbreak comes right back to you both and you realise you care about him a lot more than you thought.

wc: 4.7k (of pure goodness....)

cw: afab!reader, mdni, angst to fluff (kinda) cult leader ex boyfriend!geto, kinda sorta canon (its the day that geto yk...) he eats you out like its his last meal, half hate fucking, full making love, and a whole lot of geto being culty and cunty. this one has a plot people!!

authors note: guys yk I love a good exes to lovers fic so the argument in this one hits different and the whole idea of you and suguru breaking up just before he runs off to run his cult really gets to me, so I hope you enjoy this one.

geto suguru hasn’t seen you in years, in almost a decade, and is still reeling harshly from how you left him when he needed you. but somehow he finds himself rushing to meet you when he gets the four word text from your number—which is still saved in his phone under ‘my girl’— saying, ‘we need to talk.’

he knows exactly what you want to speak about, he could easily put together why today of all days you’d want to see —after vanishing him for just over a decade. he figured gojo probably gave word to you, as from when you’ve been young and growing up together, you’ve all known that if gojo couldn’t get through to him, you could.

he opens the door to your apartment, knowing that you wouldn’t have locked it—you always had a habit of leaving it open for him. and there you are, standing in the dimly lit room, waiting for his arrival. the years have etched subtle changes onto your face and in your demeanour, but the essence of who you are remains unchanged. time may have separated you, but in this moment, it feels as though it has never passed.

“you can't do this,” is the first thing you say, your voice steady despite the unexpected surge of emotions upon seeing him again. you didn't think seeing him after all this time would affect you, but it did. his hair is longer, his frame more imposing, but that unmistakable smirk remains, a haunting reminder of the man you once knew.

“wow right to the chase,” he chuckles bitterly, his presence taking up the room as he enters the room further, “i forgot you never really had a thing for beating around the bush.”

you meet his bitter chuckle with a steady gaze, your resolve unwavering. the years of separation have done nothing to diminish the intensity of your connection, the push and pull between you two.

"it's not the time for games, suguru," you reply, your tone serious. "you know why i called you here."

he sighs, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. the weight of his plans, the burden he carries, is evident in the lines etched on his face. "i figured you'd call sooner or later."

the room seems to shrink as the gravity of the situation hangs between you. the man you once knew, the one who could make your heart race with a smile, now stands before you, shrouded in darkness.

"i won't let you go through with this," you say firmly, your eyes never leaving his. "there's another way, suguru. there has to be."

for a moment, his façade cracks, and you catch a glimpse of the person he used to be, the one who believed in a better world. but then the hardness returns to his eyes, and he steps closer, his presence overwhelming.

"you always were too idealistic," he mutters, almost to himself. "but i can't turn back now. the world needs this change."

"what happened to you?" you snap out, your words laced with a bitter edge that hangs heavily in the air. it's a question that carries the weight of your years of frustration, anger, and confusion. but you knew what happened to him; everyone knew.

his reaction is immediate, and the room seems to tremble with his anger. his gaze narrows, and the atmosphere becomes charged with tension. "you don't get to ask that," he spits out, his voice dripping with bitterness. "you left, remember? you abandoned me when i needed you the most."

“it wasn’t like that,” you argue, leaning forward, your body tense. “by the time i left you were already gone, being physically present in a relationship doesn’t mean anything if your mind is fucking checked out all the time. at that point i was just dating a shell of you.” 

“is that how you justify it?" he retorts, his anger unabated. "you think leaving was the solution?”

you clench your fists, your own anger rising to meet his. "i did what i had to do to protect myself, suguru. you were spiralling, consumed by your own darkness. I couldn't save you"

his eyes blaze with a mixture of fury and hurt. "you think i needed saving?

“you still need saving,” you scoff gesturing to him standing right in front of you, “just because you couldn’t save—”

“don’t even go there,” he interrupts, his hand raising to stop you. he knew you were talking about riko, “i’ve made peace with that.”

“oh have you?” you accuse, “since it seems to me, you’ve been on a killing spree, ever since.”

“other people died y’know,” he hisses out, “remember haibara? he was your fucking friend, but you weren’t even there.”

“this isn’t about me,” you say disregarding his comment, regret seeping through you, “you think i haven’t kept tabs on you since i’ve been away. who have you become?”

he glares at you, his anger evident. "i've become what the world needs," he snaps, his voice heavy. "someone willing to do what it takes to change things."

"and is killing a village full of people the way to do that?" you challenge, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow. "killing your..." You pause, overwhelmed by the thoughts and images of what he's done. "was killing your parents worth it?"

his expression hardens, and for a moment, you see a glimmer of regret in his eyes, but it's quickly masked by his resolve. "i had to make sacrifices," he says coldly. "it's a small price to pay for a greater cause."

“you can’t truly think that,” you say, taking a step closer to him, your fists still clenched at your sides. “how did it feel killing them then? to take away the lives of your own parents who were innocent?” you probe, you knew that there was some part of him that must feel bad.”

“you’re about… ten years too late to be trying to have this conversation with me,” he shrugs, the turmoil that geto felt when he first set out on his mission has ceased. the guilt he felt for killing his parents, even the grief he had for something that he caused, wasn’t a factor for him anymore.

your frustration boils over as you press him further. "so, you've become heartless, then?" you challenge. the room seems to tighten around you as you await his response. "a cold-blooded killer who's convinced himself that the ends justify the means?"

geto's gaze narrows, his patience dwindling. "it's not about being heartless. it's about doing what's necessary to achieve our goals."

"your goals," you emphasise, "not mine. and not the goals of the innocent people you've hurt along the way."

he sighs, exasperation creeping into his voice. "you always had a way of making everything so complicated, questioning every choice. you left because you couldn't handle the real world."

you shake your head, unwilling to accept his justifications. "no, i left because i couldn't stand by and watch you become a monster."

“so i’m just a monster, yeah?” he retorts, stepping towards you, his anger evident across his face, you could see your words triggered him, and as he gets closer you could feel your facade faltering. 

your heart races as he approaches, and you raise a hand instinctively, palm out, to signal him to stop. "don't come any closer," you warn, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. there was no rational reason to be scared of him, you’ve known him for years, and despite everything that he’s done —what he’s become— there was still a part of you that believed that he wouldn’t hurt you.

but geto ignores your plea, his determination unwavering. he grabs your hand firmly, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the intensity of the moment. his dark eyes bore into yours, and he speaks in a low, taunting tone, "why? are you scared that with me being this close, you're going to realise that you loved a monster? that you're still in love with him?"

you grit your teeth, refusing to let him get under your skin. "suguru, you don't get to manipulate me with your twisted version of love," you retort, your voice laced with defiance. "i won't let you use my feelings against me.

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you're torn between the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. the memories of the love you once shared, the pain of his transformation into something unrecognisable, and the lingering attraction between you all crash together in this charged moment.

you try to pull your hand away, to regain control of the situation, but geto's grip tightens, preventing your escape. his face inches closer to yours, and despite your better judgement, your breath hitches. “manipulation, huh?” geto muses, his mouth so close to yours that you feel his breath faintly brush across your lips. you look up at him through your lowered eyelashes, and in that fleeting pause, so small that it’s almost imperceptible, you find yourself considering the gravity of your actions, if only for a moment.

the feeling of doubt is short lived, as you press your lips against geto’s, his mouth immediately moulding into yours. the kiss is searing, as you push your bodies against each other, he releases your hand from his grip, his hands move to cradle your head, holding it in place as he deepens the kiss, bruising your lips with his.

everything about geto is familiar, the taste of him, the warmth of his mouth, the way he consumes you. his tongue explores yours, wrestling for control as your arms scratch at him trying to tug off his robe. you wanted him to feel you, all of you—your touch, your lips, your hurt, your anger, the love that you still have that you thought was small. but after seeing him, kissing him, you realise is still an overwhelmingly large part of you.

you pull apart to catch your breath, staring hard at each other, but there’s barely a moment wasted before your back on eachother. kissing each other feverishly, as you rip off each other's clothes, he pushes you hard, your back slamming against the nearest piece of furniture as his mouth latches onto your neck. his kisses cascade down your body, stopping at your breasts as he unhooks your bra, tossing it aside.

“i missed these,” he murmurs, as his lips descend onto your tits, his face nuzzling at your chest as he sucks and pulls at your nipples with his teeth. “and i missed this,” he continues to mumble, his hands cupping your clothed pussy, his finger lightly caressing your slit. 

you arch forward into his touch, wanting to feel him more and chuckles saying, “even after all these years, you still respond to my touch just the same.” his fingers plunge into your panties, brushing against your clit and he smirks as your lips part a stifled moan escaping your lips—proving his point.

“s-shut up,” you hiss out, as you slowly start to gyrate against his fingers. although it was obvious from the way you were already soaking your underwear, you didn’t want to admit how good he is actually making you feel—you just couldn’t give him the satisfaction. geto raises his eyebrows at you in amusement, as he watches you bite your lip trying to contain your moans, as his fingers inch into your inviting pussy.

geto’s body moves down yours as he removes his lips from your tits, continues to press kisses down your stomach, as he drops down to his knees —his eyes level with your cunt. he presses a kiss to your covered pussy, before sliding off your panties. his mouth is just about to latch onto you but he pauses looking up at you, his gaze unwavering, “you want this right?” you nod slowly, your anticipation brewing as your eyes lock onto his, “use your words.”

you release an exasperated huff, but he remains steadfast, his raised eyebrow a silent declaration that he won't act until you tell him what he wants to hear. the room seems to pulse with tension, the growing desire between you mounting with each heartbeat.

your hands slide it’s way into his hair, pushing your fingers through his scalp, as you grin, you voice is low and sultry as you say, “i want it.” his mouth envelopes your pussy and you push his head into you deeper, forcing your nose into your arousal. he inhales you, taking in your scent as he presses his face in your cunt. 

“such a pretty pussy,” he mutters lowly, you could feel the vibrations spread through your pussy. his tongue strokes down your slit, before pushing into you, he twists and slurps at you trying to suck out all of your juices. 

geto nibbles at your clit, tugging at it with his teeth before bringing his fingers back to cunt. shoving two fingers in roughly. you pull his hair harshly, the feeling of his mouth sucking on your clit leaving your mind blank. “ah f-fuck,” you cry out, as geto’s strokes grow more intense.

“c’mon let me hear you more,” geto prompts, pulling away slightly from your pussy, his lips plump and coated from your wetness. he grabs one of your legs and hikes it over his shoulder, the angle allowing him to force his fingers into you further, curling them up in your pussy as he goes back to shoving his face in your sobbing cunt.

you grind your pussy in his face, working with him in getting you off. both of your movements were frantic, geto is eating your pussy with such eagerness, hungrily trying to drink all of your cum. “i’m close s-sugu i’m—” you choke out, feeling yourself slipping down the wall you pressed against, but geto holds you upright, his large hand keeping your thigh hooked over his shoulder and roughly pushing you up against the wall.

geto grins against your cunt, your moans and cries is a sound he didn’t realise how much he missed until he heard them now. you laboured breathing, stammered sentences told him that you were reading cum, but he just had to push you further. so he adds one more finger, sending it straight to your spot, twisting and pushing it in your pussy so hard that tears brim your eyes. he was so relentless, you always loved that about him, how he knows your body in and out, he knew exactly where to touch, and just how far he should push to have you becoming a mess for him.

you couldn’t take him anymore, so you cum, hard. your pussy releasing ropes and ropes of cum, all over geto’s fingers and his face, and he laps at it, munching all your cum with excitement. “i know you can give me more than that,” he muses, pressing his thumb down on your clit, rubbing at it aggressively as you cum. your eyes roll back, as he repeatedly flicks at your cum, and before you know it, you're squirting all over his face.

geto’s eyes widen, and he doesn’t stop playing with your pussy, until you bow your head in submission, worn out from all the cum you’ve released over him. your hands slide out of his hair, as you try and catch your breath and geto peppers your cunt and your thighs with kisses finally letting your thigh come off his shoulders. “damn your pussy’s still as sweet as ever.”

“stop with the talking,” you mumble, as you pull him up to his feet, your lips forcing their way back onto him. your hands frantically explore each other's bodies as you drag him to your bedroom, pushing him on your bed. “i can’t fucking stand you,” you mutter to yourself, your denial evident, as you straddle him, pulling his dick out of his boxers.

you pause briefly at the sight, his thick, long dick staring at you. you hear geto chuckle at your reaction, your eyes meet his with a challenging look exchanged between you, he raises his eyebrow at you, a silent dare on whether you’ll actually be able to get the control that you’re aiming to have. 

you hover over his dick, your pussy still dripping, geto bites his lip in anticipation as you tease him, slowly edging yourself down onto him. your pussy greedily, takes in his dick as you force yourself down on him as immediately fills you, stretching out your cunt with one push. you start to ride him, hard and fast, rocking your body forward as you bounce up and down on him, your hand pressing down on his stomach to keep you steady.

geto sits up, stifling a moan as he feels your cunt clench around his dick with everyone of your movements. he tries to thrust up into you, but he just can’t match the relentless rhythm you had, “f-fuck,” he exhales, a moan escaping his mouth, and you smirk —you have him just where you wanted him.

“you alright there suguru?” you mock, the grin spread across your face unmissable as you grind yourself down against him, tightening your pussy around his pole as you slid up and down. the bite on his lip hardens as he pulls it further between his teeth to suppress another moan.

but geto doesn’t submit for long, his hand slaps you across your tits and his fingers pinch your nipples, twisting and tugging them, causing you to arch your back as you wail. “d’you r-really think you run shit here?” he groans, flicking at your nipples with every word, “you’ll never be in control, not with me,” he taunts.

“oh really?” you retort, as you still continue to move your ass, meeting his hips. you can feel him start to pick up his pace, trying to match yours, his hips slightly thrusting upwards, his dick pushing into you deeper.

“yeah,” he says confidently through gritted teeth, one of his hands pulling away from your nipples and onto your ass, harshly grabbing one of your cheeks to steady himself as he drills into you further, “because you’re still my girl.” 

you still at his words, you knew he didn’t mean it but you couldn’t help but react to the name that he always used to refer to you as. geto could see your eyes become vacant, as you think back to the memories when you were truly his girl. you used to revel in that —the feeling of being his. he takes advantage of your pause, your rhythm halted as he takes over, now setting the pace as he charges his dick into you, stuffing you further. 

“suguru f-fuck you’re so—” you sob out, as he breaks down your wall, his strokes hitting your spot perfectly. your body buckles, crumbling at the force that geto was using as he repeatedly thrusts into you, his hand pushing you in further so his dick can get an even better angle in you.

“i’m so what?” he retorts, knowing you wouldn’t be able to string an answer together from the way he is fucking you dumb. geto couldn’t deny that he is getting some joy out seeing you all drunk on his dick, reduced to nothing but moans and incoherent sentences, he liked being the one to break you down. “am i still a monster, someone you can’t stand being around?”

you sloppily nod your head, trying to keep some resolve, but your efforts are pointless since all the insults and accusations you were spouting earlier are now futile, you lost your care in getting him to do the right thing, all you want now is for him to stay like this — inside of you. 

“s-shit i can’t take it a-anymore im gonna cu—” you force out, clenching yourself around little his dick hard as you feel your orgasm building up. but geto’s movements stop for a second as he pulls his dick out of you, flipping you over, your back landing hard on your bed. he leans over you, his focus fixed on you, but at this point, his eyes don’t hold the same heartache, and hurt that they did when he first stepped into your house. the geto that is looking at you now, is the one who’d always look at you everyday, ten years ago —with love and longing.

he strokes his dick down your aching pussy, teasing you with it, but just before he puts it in, his hand caresses your face cupping your chin as he says, “when i said you were still my girl, i meant it y’know?” and your lips part in surprise at his admission. “although it hurt me, when you left me, you just never stopped being my girl.”

“suguru i-i don’t know what to say,” you stammer, and you didn’t realise until he swipes under your eye, that you were crying. there was so much more to your relationship with geto than just some highschool romance, you loved another, and no one could tell you otherwise. 

“tell me that you are,” he prompts, now pressing kisses to your tear stained face, his lips moving down to yours, “tell me that you are still my girl,” he finishes in between kisses. his hopeful eyes still remain on yours, and you could feel him slowly inching his dick into you.

you wrap your legs around his back, your arms hooking around his neck as you pull his head next to yours, your mouth near his ear as you whisper, “i am still yours.” he pushes his dick back into you, his strokes deep and slow. it was different from before, there was no competition or hate between you as you fucked, you didn’t have a point to prove other than the fact that you still loved each other. 

geto’s moans are loud, he has nothing to hold back as he growls lowly in your ear. the way he holds you, and takes his time kisses you and fucking you as if he was accounting for this potentially being his last ever time doing so. “i’ll never get enough of this.”

“then don’t go,” you whine, and your words hold a deeper meaning that you both knew but won’t acknowledge knowing it is pointless to discuss any further. you pull him into you deeper, your thighs clenching around him as your hold tightens. 

the feeling of you pulling him in, has him clenching his eyes as your pussy takes him in, his mouth takes yours in a powerful kiss, before he mumbles “you gonna let me cum in you, leave you with every last bit of me.” you don’t even respond, just deepening the kiss, your head shaking in agreement.

you both cum together, geto spraying your walls as he sinks his face into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into your exposed flesh as he continues to shoot ropes of cum inside of you. you claw at his back as you feel all of him enter you, your cum mixing with his as you cry out in full pleasure.

his forehead rests against yours, as the last bits of his cum enter you and neither of you say anything, all that can be heard is just heavy breaths coming from the both of you. you didn’t know what was to happen now, there was still so much left unsaid, unresolved and things have changed now that geto is literally stuffed inside of you.

geto is about to pull out of you finally, but you stop him muttering a faint, “stay,” and he does. he knows he had somewhere to be, things to do that are bigger than the both of you, but he just couldn’t leave when you ask him to stay. he manoeuvres your body so that you now lay atop him, comfortably cockwarming him as he thumb brushes gentle strokes down your arm.

“y’know i’ve got these two girls, who i think would love you,” he muses.

“what? did you manage to become a father whilst i was away?” you tease.

“something like that, yeah,” he mumbles, a small smile forming on his face as thoughts of nanako and mimiko flash through his mind — they’re a bittersweet reminder of the new life he’s built without you, one that you wouldn’t be able to fit in. it wasn’t that long ago that you’d have thoughts about geto fathering your own kids, dreams of somewhat of a domestic life that you’d now never get to have with him.

“well maybe i can meet them,” you say non-committedly.

“yeah maybe…” his voice falters, as you both know that it would never happen.

“do you enjoy it then?” you ask, “this ‘new’ life of yours.” you could tell just by the brief mention of nanako and mimiko and the way he carries himself that he does enjoy his life, but you were hoping that he’d still answer no.

geto hesitates for a moment, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he contemplates your question, “i…” he begins, his gaze returning to yours, “i won’t lie. it’s different, and there’s moments i find true solace in it, this has been my life for a long time now, so it’s just something i’ve really gotten used to.”

“and you’re happy to go back to it, after this?” your question is loaded, and you feel dumb for even asking but when you did call him over to get him to not go through with his plans, of course your motivations have slightly changed, but your goal is still the same. 

 “i don’t think you should ask me to make a choice, knowing that im not going to choose you,” he grits out, he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, but 

“you’re not gonna win you know, satoru wouldn’t let it happen,” you couldn’t help yourself, the rejection he just gave you stung, and you wanted him to feel what you felt.

but geto doesn’t bite, he knows you’re hurting—that he’s the cause of it, so he lets you hurt, his hold tightening comfortably as you sulk in his arms. geto places a kiss on your temple, ignoring your comment as he concludes, “let’s just not, okay?”

geto stays with you until your breathing settles into a steady rhythm, and you don’t notice him slipping out of you. he cleans you up and tucks you into your bedsheets, giving you one final stare as if he’s trying to keep a mental image of how you look when he’s last seen you. his lips meet yours in a final, chaste kiss and he mutters a promise that he didn’t think you’d hear, but you do, stirring awake as his lips leave yours, “i’ll see you again… eventually.”

you wake up to an empty room, the warmth of geto's presence replaced by a stark emptiness. the realisation hits you like a wave of cold water – he's gone, leaving nothing behind but soiled sheets and a hollow ache in your chest. there's no note, no message, no trace of his ever being there, except for the lingering scent of him that clings to the air. you know that someone will eventually inform you of the outcome of the night, but deep down, you already suspect that his last promise to you will end up being broken.

AN: first like proper proper real juicy fic that ive written in a long time imo and its just like this took me so long since im soooo sensitive about my geto fics and im just like overly critical about my angsty and fluff and plot fics and my smut and JUST EVERYTHING but I managed to get it all done and I think some parts of this really hit hard. the ending is ofc bittersweet since if we go by canon, he goes and yuta beats his fuckinggg ass and he dies wtf but... the true ending is really up to your imagination. (not really) like dont even think about the ending just focus on the fact that they NEVER TELL EACHOTHER THAT THEY LOVE EACH OTHER BECAUSE UR SO IN LOVE THAT YOU ADMITTING THAT UR STILL 'HIS GIRL' IS ALL THE CONFIRMATION HE NEEDS. my finished an are sooo long why because I FUCKING CAN SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY, PLEASE LMK UR THOUGHTS AND SLAY ALL DAY also thank you @kazushawty and @biscuitsngravie for reading and supporting me 🥹🥹

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cleaning services (perv!Konig x fem!cleaner!Reader)

Konig needs help in decluttering and cleaning his house. Unfortunately for you, he takes quite a huge liking in having pretty things like you around. And he isn't very nice about it.

TW: Perverted Konig, age gap, Konig masturbates at you without consent, implied kidnapping, yandere Word count: 3754 This work on AO3

There is no shame in having a professional cleaner, König tries to tell himself. 

Yes, he is a grown man with a very dangerous job that requires having a lot of responsibility. He holds the lives of his soldiers in his hands and risks his life every day not for the sake of his country, but certainly for the sake of his wallet and the reputation of KorTac. 

Hiring a professional cleaner for his house shouldn’t make him feel humiliated and embarrassed, and he knows it. Cleaners are basically like soldiers – doing stuff that other people can’t for a certain amount of money, providing services for the clients who can afford it. Besides, it’s a support of his local community – after everything he took from the people around his town, it’s only natural that he would support this growing business of cleaning services. 

There is no shame in having some nice old lady cleaning his house and watching over it while he is too busy trying not to kill himself or drown his head in liquor after a particularly rough mission. When you lose two guys on a run that was supposed to be the quickest task possible when you’re returning home with an injury that isn’t really that serious but brings your whole mental state into a very dark place, and when you’re forced to take 3 weeks of leave in the place you hate, hiring a cleaner to take care of everything really shouldn’t make him so ashamed of himself. 

Even if he can clean his space – the house is just too big for only one of him, and his ribs still have this funny feeling of fantom bullets traveling around his guts. So, he dials up the number of the cleaning services because he is too fucking old to understand their weird website and messenger ordering, even though speaking with a human operator on the other half of the line is somewhat more humiliating that having no idea of how to use a modern interface. 

There is no shame in asking for help, his therapist is trying to shrill it in his head all of the time and yet he is still hesitant when the cleaning professional is knocking on his door, finding this place surprisingly fast. König braces himself, thinking about all the ways he could avoid having a conversation – he drew a quick map of the place, put down the room cleaner shouldn’t be entering – his gun safe, mostly, already repeated in his head how he would greet them and swiftly extract himself from the situation. 

“Guten Tag, please, come in. This is the map of the place, don’t go to the red door on the right, don’t hesitate to ask questions, I will be on the second floor.” He takes a few wide, swift steps to his door and stops. Thinks again, overthinking, thinking too fucking much about everything, anxiously checking on his phone to read the message that yes, his cleaner is here and he should probably open the door or they would burst down the window. “Guten Tag, come in. Map of the place is here, don’t go to the red door to the right, please hesitate to ask questions, I will be somewhere around the house, lurking in the shadows” He braces himself to open the door, ready to see that sweet old lady who would spend the next 8 hours cleaning his house and then turn back another day to rinse and repeat until his house stopped looking like a place where a very, very miserable man lives. (Even if this is true) 

But, there isn’t a nice old lady with a bunch of cleaning supplies and determination to make someone’s life easier. 

But, there isn’t a cold middle-aged woman with a very professional no-nonsense attitude who wouldn’t even talk to him before going straight to work. 

But, there is a young girl. Well, not a girl, of course, if he had to guess you were somewhere around the “Too fucking young, but definitely legal” spectrum. Young enough to not be alive when he was already going to school, young enough to make him sweat, and definitely not old enough to be accepting a job where you’d have to spend so much of your life cleaning and scrubbing and sorting and…

There isn’t anything shameful in ordering a cleaning service when you genuinely need it, but you’re young and you’re pretty and he isn’t even wearing a mask because he is an old dumbass that forgot about it, and you look at him with your shiny eyes and…

Maybe, he should clean on his own – would definitely be less shameful. 

— Sir? H…hello? Good morning? Can you hear me? 

Yes, he can hear you. 

Yes, he would love to hear you every single day of his life, when he wakes up and when he falls asleep. 

— Ja. I apologize, I…thought it was mail. 

It’s a dumb excuse, but he can’t really say that he was just too fucking mesmerized by your shiny eyes and perfect hair and nice figure and basically everything about you. He has this nasty habit of imagining a future with people around him – with people who just fucking want to be left alone, and yet he still stares and looks and it’s probably ultra uncomfortable for them – but he can’t help imagining the life with every cute lady in the grocery shop or elegant lady sitting next to him on a train. 

He has a pattern – people who are not interested in him in the slightest. He has a pattern, a preference, cute girls, smart girls, popular ladies that were never even so much as looking in his direction. He could probably score someone now, having a colonel’s salary and honorably discharged payments, but he gave up on trying to find anyone. He has friends, company, has work where he spent most of his life anyway – he doesn’t need anyone, he wants to think. 

Then you waddle into his life with a bunch of cleaning supplies and a small vacuum, barely able to handle everything in your hands. He rushes to help and envelops your hands with his – you are so much smaller in comparison, he has bear-like arms and horribly big everything. he feels awkward when he gently removes everything from your arms – when he tries to help by simply putting everything on the table of the next room. 

König hated this house – it was big, it was empty, and the only reason he didn’t sell it was because Mother’s things were still locked in her old bedroom and every time he tried to clean it and evaluate the cost of the house, he decided that he will Do It Other Day. Coincidentally, all of those days were also followed by three-month minimum missions, making him utterly unable to do everything about this place anyway. 

This is why you’re here – a hired cleaner, a sorter, you promised to de-hoard everything and see if there is anything of value. Perfect for someone like him, especially since he is paying you double for spending the whole day and a few days more in his house exclusively. 

Now, he looks at how awkward your smile is, how you fidget with the edge of the broom you brought, and how you can’t even start a conversation because he is simply staring at you, staying in the living room of this dead, almost abandoned house. Now, he looks at how cute you are, how perfect, and remembers that he didn’t score with anyone in half a year already – not even in terms of sex, the casual flirting was also forbidden since half of his unit was transferred and the new people weren’t really fun of his tough methods of breaking rookies in. 

When was the last time someone genuinely smiled at him? 

Ah, he is staring again. Scheisse. 

— Where do you want me to start, sir? 

He wonders how much he should pay you to clean him instead. Would you be gentle? Rough? Would you call him a pervert, which he is, and then slap him and yell at him for being such a horrible old dog who is ready to pounce at every pretty girl in his presence? He would do anything that would set his mind free of the thought about Mom. Her bedroom. This whole house that he can’t call home ever since he turned 6 and understood why Father was always so, so angry. 

— The living room. If it’s not too much. 

He barely stops himself from talking more – you look weird, you loom surprised, you look at him like he is fucking stupid and, in fact, he is. Of course, it wouldn’t be too hard for you, you’re his clean, for fucks sake. You come here to clean, you get good money for it, he shouldn’t feel guilty for using your services because, in some way, he actually provides you with a job and a cute thing like you shouldn’t go to other houses, with old perverts that can do unspeakable things with the adorable worker. 

Ah, yes, perverts like him. God, he is hopeless. 

— Alright. Do you want to note something, like if there is anything I shouldn’t touch? 

He would allow you to take your adorable, yellow glow-wearing hands to get into his personal savings and all of his bank accounts, if you’d want to. He curses under his breath, hating how professional you are – hard worker, perfect, simply a fantastic person who deserves more than working for him. You aren’t trying to shy away from the job and he almost resents you for it. 

You’d make a good soldier, he thinks – you’re able to hear the orders and oblige to them, you’re obedient and came even before the discussed time. You’d make such a perfect private for his unit, he observes. 

Ah, right, he was supposed to answer you. Shit. 

— No. Just don’t go to the second room on the left. 

— Alright. Anything else? 

He grumbles under his breath, trying to get into the right headspace to deal with someone like you. König knows it’s rude, to just ignore and leave you like this – but if he were to stay in he same room as you, he would do something horrible, disgusting, and completely dishonorable to you. So, he leaves – escapes – to his office. Father’s office, mostly, the only thing here that belongs to him are some documents and useless papers – and a laptop that he drags to every other room anyway. 

He doesn’t like this room, it reminds him of the worst episodes of his early childhood – yet, this is his only reserve. He doesn’t want to leave the house because the territory is secluded and if something were to happen to you, he would be the only one able to help. He also doesn’t want to leave his gun collection with you – he doesn’t want you to find it and freak out or hurt yourself. 

This is what he tells himself, at least. He wants to be there with you, in the same room preferably, but horrible for his anxiety, because he wants this illusion, phantasm of having a loving relationship. Of having a woman in his life, a lovely housewife who would cook for him, clean for him, and would be absolutely spoiled with gifts and attention. God knows he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body – but he will carve one out of his ribs for you. 

And he only knew you for an hour tops. 

König feels like literally the worst man alive when he spread his legs and starts stroking his hard, glistening cock. He brushes over the swollen, red tip, not allowing himself to have any lube other than spit and oozing pre-cum – he tries not to cum embarrassingly quickly, thinking about your perfect gestures and smiling face. How perfect you look in your cleaning uniform – not like maids from the occasional porn he was watching, but still beautiful. Your body is perfect even with all of those ugly layers and grey fabric – and he can’t stop thinking about the sway of your hips or glimpses of your legs under your dress.

He thinks about you, bent over his couch, trying to clean the especially dirty spot on the furniture – how the material of your dress would be tight around your ass. The image makes him grunt quietly, stroking his barely wet dick even more – the pain from the dry sensation only makes the pleasure all the sweeter. He is hard, was hard for the past 10 minutes as you were introducing yourself and whatever your deal is. He is dirty, perverted, knowing only your name and your face – and he is still stroking himself, thinking about paying you extra just so you’d get on your pretty knees and suck him. Would you be sloppy, messy, get his cum all over your face so you’d have to wash it off? Would you be experienced, eager, trying to get as much seed as possible with that pretty tongue of yours? 

He is a lost cause because he hears the sounds of vacuum – you’re only a few rooms away from him, trying so hard to clean his house for him, to work through every bit of furniture and everything he acquired for the past twenty years or so – and he moans loudly, knowing that you don’t hear anything. You’re probably listening to music or some silly girl’s podcast about planets and gardens and maybe some university lectures. He’d pay for your courses, he would get you any book you want – having his salary and barely spending it made him softer in the saving habits. 

He can afford to splurge on a pretty girl who just needs a rich Austrian mercenary to sweep her off her feet. But, he is old – but, he is a monster who preys on someone helpless, using her pretty face to jerk himself off, and he doesn’t even deserve your number, although he has had it since accepting the service. 

His cock is big, angry red in his hand as he runs his finger over the bulging vein, teasing the sensitive flesh – always loud in bed, with grunts and moans of pleasure, he can barely contain himself now, only forcing his mouth shut when he doesn’t hear the sound of vacuum anymore. He strokes his dick fast, angry, and slams it into his fist, trying to make the pain last longer, so he won’t cum after a minute or two. He has the stamina to last longer – but it’s also the first time he was so horny since…he can’t even remember. 

König thinks about putting you in his bed – like a perfect housewife, you would hug his waist with your legs, would allow him to lick and grope at your tits, and won’t scream too much when he’d force his tongue inside of your precious pussy, taking every last drop of your pleasure. He wouldn’t want to be forceful, angry, you’re too precious for this and too weak for his strength – but he can imagine slamming into you in a matting press, cumming inside and not even pulling out, warming his cock in the heat of your body. 

Father would kill him for doing something so dirty in his office – but he is long dead, devil save his soul, and it’s König’s office now. Even when he barely uses it, even if he doesn’t really need this. It came in handy when he had to jerk off to the pretty cleaning girl who cleaned up after him – so, somehow, his father managed to improve his mood 15 years after he died. 

He cums with a low groan, whispering your name – he doesn’t understand how a pretty thing like you still works here and wasn’t taken by someone else already, but he would take what he can get. Never the one to get the first dibs, never being someone’s first choice – he feels terrible for thinking about you in such a low way, but his pleasure sticks to his fingers and, at this point, it’s too late to feel bad. 

Drying the tip of his dick with a tissue, he spends a good few minutes with spread legs, his soft cock laying on the chair, with cum still oozing out – such a waste, honestly, would be much better to stuff you full of his cock or even take your pretty ass, spread you slowly. Keep only the tip in, not pressuring you into anything more until you’d start moving yourself, like a good slut you will be. 

So perfect under him – the images and sounds of your voice are running through his mind, making him breathe heavily. If he was younger and had as much sex drive as before, he would already be hard – but he needs some time to relax, thinking about your pretty legs and adorable face. 

It takes him a few minutes of listening to your sweet voice to understand that you were not, in fact, a hallucination or a mystical fairy coming to make him come. You were standing outside of the office door, looking embarrassed and clearly hearing at least some of his horny mumblings – you avoid looking at him, and your fingers are trembling when you tug at the sides of your dress. Guilt immediately rushes to him again, he looks at you like a perfect treasure you are – and he is a horrible monster trying to hoard all of it to himself. 

— What is it, liebling? 

Petname goes smoothly from his tongue and he can only hope that you don’t know German – he is too embarrassed to talk to you, too anxious, his newfound shyness is a result of both your beauty and the post-nut clarity that already made him feel like a monster. He contemplates just giving you money and sending you off, paying double for the false call, and leaving you a 5-star review so you won’t get in trouble with your boss. 

You look so meek from his angle of view – he has to fight the urge to pinch your face, squeeze your cheeks, grab your waist in his firm hands, and just lift you in his arms, holding you to his bed. Maybe getting a nice set of cuffs to ensure you would never escape from him. 

— I finished with the living room and…well, I just wanted to ask if you want the decluttering work to be done today or tomorrow. 

He remembers how he basically paid you for a few days worth of work – and he smiles at exactly how perfect this decision was. Of course, you are a smart girl, a modest girl, you aren’t staying the night and would rather waste time on the road, much to his dismay, but at least he would see you for a few days already. 

He might not even let you go after. 

— Ach. Today, if it’s not too…

He stops himself again – of course, it’s not too much, you are a professional, not just a friend that comes to clean his place for a pack of beer and maybe some pizza. He doesn’t know how to talk to you, anxiety eats him whole, and he has to just avoid looking at you to avoid further embarrassment. 

— Alright. I will do it right away then. 

You smile awkwardly, your lips are twitching and he already knows that you could hear him moaning your name and sweet little praises while stroking his cock. You aren’t biting the hand that feeds you, not running away screaming at how perverted he is – poor girl, you probably need money more than you need personal safety if you’re fine with him heaving like this. If you were his, he would never allow you to be so careless. 

He moves behind you in the most dreaded room of the house. Mother’s bedroom, a room that she only used for sewing and only allowed him in when he was extra whiny after another failed fight with his bullies. All of her thighs are here – ever since she passed away, he just moved everything to one room and locked it, barely bothering to keep a key. He hates being here, almost as much as being in Father’s office — this room smells like death and old paper and you scrunch your nose in an adorable expression when you take a step inside. 

— I will divide everything into categories, alright? 

— Gut.

You look at him nervously, clearly scared that he is watching over you now. It might feel like a logical decision – after all, it was his mother’s vintage things, who knows what kind of jewelry she kept here, something that he won’t even notice gone until it’s too late. You and him both know, however, that this isn’t the reason he is looming over you. A perfect obedient thing, you deserve something better than his affection, but he still locks his gaze with yours, looking at your hands and going through various furniture pieces. 

You work like a fairy, not an ounce of laziness or exhaustion in your actions – even after you already spent a few hours cleaning his living room, you act like a Cinderella that got a bunch of magic mice up her rags. He licks his lips, looking at your perfect ass you as sit on your knees, starting with decluttering every little box there is. 

— Can I just put it back in boxes or…

You look the the contents – vintage makeup, some jewelry, head pieces that don’t look particularly expensive but were definitely well-loved. You wonder who they belong to – probably a wife, or, maybe, some of his relatives who lived here. He doesn’t seem like a married or divorced man – he does, however, look insanely lonely. 

It takes him a good few seconds to respond, too mesmerized by the little song you were humming a minute before. He imagines you in that old, chunky jewelry, some necklaces that cost more than your salary – and the thought makes him salivate. 

He smiles, leaning closer to you – hot breath on your face, you shift immediately, scared. He is so fast for someone so big, his movements are perfect and his eyes are cold – you feel the chill deep in your bones when he moves even closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. 

Suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that he locked the door to this tiny room when you both moved in. 

[the-oracleof-delphi]

PAC: Your Future Spouse - their Relationship with their Parents

What sort of dynamics do they share with their parents? What are they like? We will not be focusing on genders or relations per se, rather dominant masculine energy and feminine energy in their lives. For ease of understanding I will use the term "mother" and "father". Pick a picture:

Pile One - Hot chocolate & marshmallow

For some of you, your future spouse may come from a single parent household. Their mother may not have spent a lot of time with them while they were growing up, maybe she did not get the chance to. She was busy, may have been the sole earner of the family, had to cater to a lot of people, could only take care of the material needs of her children but not their emotional needs. Your spouse sees their mother as someone who is stern and emotionally closed off. But at the same time she is wise - somewhat of a 'guiding light' for him, I sense a lot of respect and gratitude towards her. If there is a sibling, then both of them definitely look up to their mother a lot. I feel like they always consult her when making any career-related decisions. To them, she is a logical, capable, and a practical person who is rooted in reality. For a few of you, your spouse may be part of a family business. For others, they may be pursuing higher education - their career is funded by their mother in some way. The father was probably absent. For a very few of you, he may have cheated on your spouse's mother (I feel like he had a second family ? o.O) The parents may have separated when your spouse was quite young. I see a lack of communication with the father, there is quite a bit of distance, coldness and separation. For some, the father may have passed away.

Pile Two - Christmas cookies

Currently, your future spouse may be living at a distance from their family and they miss their home a lot. Especially now, during the holiday season - if they didn't get the chance to visit their hometown. Your spouse may get along very well with their mother - they may be a bit of a mama's boy. To them she is a nurturing and supportive person and I can see they are attached to her, but in a very healthy way. The mother is a source of emotional and material stability for them. They have a lot of fond memories from their childhood with her that they look back to from time to time. She is someone who celebrates your spouse. She never holds them back and encourages them to expand their horizons. Communication between them is free-flowing and easy-going. The father provides material stability to your spouse. Although they see their father as lot less emotional, and may be a bit more rigid and tough with them. They may sometimes feel like they need to earn their father's approval and that their father is generally displeased with them. This is your spouse's pov and may not be necessarily true. Overall I see a happy and satisfied family.

Pile Three - Christmas wreath

Your future spouse definitely comes from a pretty well-off family. I see the mother as bit of a prominent figure here - she has a lot on her plate. If she is working, then she is in a position of authority, if not then she probably comes from a very affluent family - I can see both power and prestige. Your spouse's relation with their mother may be stressful at times. But I don't sense any serious resentment towards her. They may feel like their mother never has enough time for them. Maybe she compensates by showering your spouse with a lot of material gifts. Although your spouse don't see their mother as much as they wished to, she still is a source of great comfort and joy for them. She is the one who makes the family complete. They are quite pampered and spoiled by her. She provides them both materially and emotionally. Communication between them is pretty direct and clear-cut. Your spouse may get some form of inheritance from their mother in the future. Their relationship with their father too is pretty balanced and stable. But, at the same time it can be a bit business-like (?) the father maybe a bit firm and emotionally detached. I feel like your spouse craves emotional closeness with their father but they feel it is out of their reach. Maybe in the past they felt like the father intentionally robbed them of that emotional fulfillment. But their views may have changed now. They definitely see their father to be someone at the top of whatever they do - well respected and secure. There is a lot of admiration for him from your spouse. edit: corrected typo, changed a few lines. Overall meaning stays the same.

Credit: @/i-hani and @/saradika-graphics on tumblr

[keen-li]

I RE-DO | JJK

18+ minors DNI

ONESHOT.

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

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

Ex husband Jungkook x ex-wife reader.

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

WC: 24.k [whoa.]

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

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

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

The last time you saw him was well...

When you were with Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A thick skin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he pouts and turns back to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't tease me." you blush.

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

"I was very serious as you can see."

You both just chuckle.

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

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

You nod in affirmation.

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

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

"Well, I didn-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They all nod, letting you do your thing.

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

"Just be honest."

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

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

Taehyung whines disappointed in your answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Look who's a dad."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Professional, yn be professional.

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

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

You don’t give him a response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ignore you.

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

Taehyung cheers and his wife rolls her eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But as you're walking out a voice speaks.

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking piss of shit.

"We should get married."

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

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

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

He watches how your face contorts at his suggestion.

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

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

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

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

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

"And our parents?" You ask worried.

He rubs your shoulder.

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

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

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

"Yes Jungkook I'll marry you."

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

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

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

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

You hated this. No. You hated him.

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

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

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

You hate that you even noticed that.

"Yn you good? "

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

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

"I don't believe you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Which bar? " You ask curious.

"Satin."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Closure, Jungkook closureeeee!" Taehyung  empathizes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clubs feel weird; they hold memories and empty feelings.

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

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

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

Hugs and greetings are shared.

"Congratulations, bro! This place is beautiful."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You enjoying the night?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled as he leaned in closer.

"Jimin."

"Jimin? That's a pretty name."

Jimin chuckled. He'd take the compliment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Did they seem cool at all?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or at least he thought he was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why the hell are you thinking this? Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

It was deeper, more mature, and sensu—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Overruled."

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

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

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

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

"Doctor, are you married?"

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

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

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

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

"No, I’m not."

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

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

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

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

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

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

The judge looks at you, waiting for your answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No," you reply, your voice steady.

"Then why are you helping him here today?"

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re on the verge of tears.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If I had known, I would’ve—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he doesn’t.

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

Selfish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No. I couldn’t. I don’t know why."

“Does she know?”

“Doubt it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dick move."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckle, but it’s bitter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If she’ll understand,” Jian laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, bro,” Taehyung says to Jungkook.

“Goodnight,” Jungkook replies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why would he marry you then?

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

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

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

Jimin: When can I pick you up?

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

Y/N: Don’t.

Jimin: ???

Y/N: Don’t come.

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

Jimin: An ex?

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

You: I guess so.

Not really, more like just yourself.

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

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

Jimin: Wish you the best.

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

You: You too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sniffle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Maybe"

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

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

your mind has no clue where to place its home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The air thick with unspoken words.

“I missed you so much."

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

That's what younger you wanted anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe all you need is to forgive yourslef and him.

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

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

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

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

“And you don’t have to.”

You sob.

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

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

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

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

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

“But it’s time to grow up.”

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

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

It really is time to grow up.

“Thanks for coming.” You smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He taps his fingers nervously on his thigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a reality he has to face now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he smiles too.

“I actually do hate you,” he jokes.

“I hate you too."

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

[theoldsports]

SHITHEAD.

Art Donaldson x Reader.

warnings: a lot of them. 18+, slapping, begging, major angst, brat!Art, an argument with make up sex. Art is really manipulative because… he is a bit and we all know it. [Y/N] is very ill-tempered too. it’s dirty.

can be a part ii to SPONTANEOUS, or read as a standalone. this is my favorite piece of writing i have published on this account.

The bed was empty beside [Y/N]. She stared at Art’s empty side of the bed. The soft green sheets and mix-matched pillowcases went unoccupied. Not because he wasn’t home, but because [Y/N] hated Art so he had to sleep downstairs on the couch.

It wasn’t that she really hated Art. She did hate him right now. Not in a funny way. Their drive home had been silent. Poor Art didn’t know how to facilitate conversation that wouldn’t worsen the situation. His sorrowful eyes, but honest eyes kept glancing from the road to where [Y/N] sat in the passenger seat. The real showdown had started between them something awful when the door to their house slammed shut.

See, Art cried when he got mad. Or sad. Or profoundly excited. Their wedding photos were two-thirds Art crying and trying not to show that he was crying.

Art hadn’t cried tonight yet. That pissed [Y/N] off. She was furious and he seemed to feel absolutely zero discernible feelings about that.

They argued all the time. It rarely lasted all too long.

It was different this time. When [Y/N] started to say something cruel or shout or weep, Art got a little smaller, but he alarmingly stood his ground. He averted his gaze and said “I respectfully disagree,” or “What the fuck do you know about how I feel?” in a dangerously level tone.

Fighting with Art about this wasn’t fun. He was too cool about. He knew he was right. [Y/N] wanted to yell and scream because Art was so relaxed and condescending in his tone. When the man who had spent his teenage years getting referred at competition after competition as literally Ice tonelessly said: “Jesus Christ, aren’t you bored yet? What, going to over-explain the same information to me again, or…?” Finally, that had made [Y/N] drag herself to bed and yank the door closed violently enough that she felt the metallic vibration run all the way up to her shoulder.

And she was still laying there, staring at Art’s side of the bed.

At the Zweig’s party that night, there were a few hot topics in the Donaldsons’ sphere:

1) Lots of congratulations from people that had known them grow up, but hadn’t seen them since the wedding or prior.

This was mostly very kind. It dragged that smirk up Art’s face and caused his fingers to dig tighter into [Y/N]’s waist. That look of pride and tenderness on his face was more than welcome.

2) Lots of questions about Patrick. His lack of attendance was felt.

Both Donaldsons dodged these question as much as they could. Art kept an eye on [Y/N]’s liquor consumption. He knew how embarrassed she would be if she said something she regretted in front of Patrick’s family. Patrick had hurt them both, but Art’s heart went out to [Y/N]. Her world had been built around Patrick’s from a young age. Art was trying to engineer his own world higher around her so she wouldn’t be able to see the old place and people that had burned her over the walls.

3) “You’re married. When are we going to be seeing a little Donaldson running around?”

With Art keeping an eye on [Y/N]’s drinking, she hadn’t really been keeping an eye on him. She just assumed he would keep his shit together. Art drinking in public was never really a concern. He wasn’t a big drinker anyway. At this point, his career mattered more and he was approaching his mid-twenties which made him feel surely less young than he had once. He wasn’t a casual beer guy either. It was Patrick who liked beer and Art who would have a moledo or something sometimes. Art did like white girl drinks, though. Tequila and fruity stuff. He had been able to shoot shot after shot of vodka like a pro in college at a season-end celebration.

Art was a tight-lipped man, but he was a giggly drunk who he got pretty comfortable talking out of his ass from behind a glass with an umbrella in it. Art was rarely comfortable with anything, so a drink or two at a party was welcome to him.

Another important point of context is that the largest point of tension between Art and [Y/N] was starting a family. They desperately wanted a child together, but they disagree on when. [Y/N] felt like she was fresh out of college, so she figured they had plenty of time. Art felt that he was fresh out of college, so he figured they may as well get to it.

Their arguments about this were once semi-regular. In the last four months or so, Art timidly bowed out and hoped [Y/N] would tell him when she was ready (sooner rather than later). He got tired of the low-tier shouting matches. Instead, he would pick fights about things that were decidedly lower stakes when he was bored.

Art had let [Y/N] field comments about family planning throughout the night. Unfortunately, when Art was polishing off a second drink, he ran his mouth a little bit.

Knowing he was the designated driver that night, Art did go easy. Art was also, like, five pounds. While he could hold his liquor with grace, he always got giggly. He watched with heavy eyelids as [Y/N] walked away to collect another drink following the dinner portion of the evening. The paper placecards with their shared last name emblazoned on them rested comfortably in Art’s inner jacket pocket to be kept as a memory.

Some guy who sold boat insurance and liked to rub elbows with talent was talking Art’s ear off. Art couldn’t remember his name, but [Y/N] would know it.

This was the precise moment that got Art in trouble.

Because when the guy whose name Art was sure started with an R said: “So! You’re married. When are we going to be seeing a little Donaldson running around?”

Art said:

“Any day now, I hope. Tomorrow. I’m good to go. [Y/N] thinks now’s not a great time for her.”

He had said it with a smirk and a stupid little laugh. It was basically locker room talk. Big deal. He would’ve said it to Patrick with [Y/N] present in the room. This guy wasn’t Patrick and he was technically speaking behind her back.

Art had forgotten how close they were standing to the bar. He had forgotten that the frequency of his pitchy tenor was known to carry. He had forgotten that he was well known to be an instigator of fights even though he never actually threw the first punch. He had forgotten that he hadn’t been whispering. He had forgotten that this guy… Richy? Ronnie? was pretty much a stranger who had no business knowing their business.

Now, Art was sleeping on the couch and his side of the bed was empty.

Jackass.

[Y/N] stared still at the empty bed and didn’t know how to articulate her upset to an Art who had seemingly yet to feel ashamed.

She had a headache and was tired. But sleep wasn’t going to come easy and all she had to look forward to was a hangover.

Art didn’t really snore, but he was a heavy breather when he slept. The lack of his white noise made the A/C blowing and the stairs creaking too loud. Maybe all of this was on [Y/N] for making Art uncomfortable, she dared to think.

Then she reminded herself that it was Art’s fault for talking too much and for drinking when he knew he was supposed to drive home.

[Y/N] rolled over to face away from Art’s spot. All she could think about is how his hands always sleepily pawed at her to pull her back when she got too far away from him before he fell asleep.

“So, what’d you do?” Patrick asked.

“She hates me.” Art replied. It was almost a question.

“I asked what you did, not what she feels. She already told us what she feels and it’s that she hates you.” Patrick stated. When Patrick had stopped through town for a match, he had come by for dinner with, well, his best friends. This had been right after they’d gotten engaged.

Art sniffled. He didn’t want to cry in front of Patrick. Art would sooner cry in front of his own father. Both men would have laughed in his face, but it would have stung more from Patrick. “We got into a fight yesterday. A big one. Like, the first, uh, big one. She’s worried about the f—“

“The future? Please,” Patrick said bitterly. He frowned and his jaw tightened, but he combatted it by tossing Art a smile before the other man noticed the tension. “Stupid. You’re gonna marry her. You’ll play tennis. She’ll do her… columns? Articles. I don’t get what it is that she does—“

“She writes for—“

“Sure, yeah. You’re gonna have two kids so you can each pick a favorite one. And she’s gonna be a pain in your ass forever. Don’t be a pussy.”

Art sniffled again and stared at the floor. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. I didn’t think I did,” Art said meekly. “I don’t get it. She gets so mad sometimes. At me.” Patrick stared at him blankly. Art had to know that he was usually at least a little bit the problem.

“Did she do the thing where she calls you a—“

“Shithead bastard?”

“Shithead bastard.” Both boys said at the same time. Art dragged his hands through his hair and looked up at Patrick. Both of them quirked a smirk at the other.

“See,” Patrick started. “You’ll be fine. Fuckin’ go after her.”

“And say what!”

“Uh… ‘I’m sorry?’ You do that kinda shit. She’ll like that.”

It was impossible to know how long [Y/N] laid there. The clock was on Art’s side and she would get spitting mad if she rolled back over.

She could just go downstairs and tell Art to come back to bed. He was probably sleeping just fine.

“Hey, hon, you don’t hate me, right?” Art’s voice whispered in the darkness.

[Y/N] was fairly certain she had imagined it. She had not heard his sweaty feet on the stairs or his fingers against the doorknob. Quickly, [Y/N] whipped over to face the door behind her.

There was Art. His sweatpants sat low on his hips and his shirt was long gone. Clothing didn’t often survive the night on Art’s back.

Really, she couldn’t help but wonder how long it had taken Art to work through coming upstairs so quietly. “Mm?” [Y/N] groaned in question.

Art rocked his right shoulder into the doorway to lean. His arms were crossed and his eyes straight ahead on her from what [Y/N] could tell in the glow of the hallway’s thermostat. “Please just tell me you don’t hate me and I’ll let you go back to sleep. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

With a sigh, [Y/N] sat up and rolled her cracking shoulders back. “I don’t hate you, Art.” Her heart melted a little bit. [Y/N] knew it was immature, but her special attack in arguments since childhood was to bandy around the word hate a lot. Not that she had said it to Art tonight, but she had no doubt said it before. More than once. More times than she could count, maybe.

She was surprised Art had never asked this before. That surprise hurt in an a way that was too complex to describe. “I could never hate you.” [Y/N] continued, voice hushed only because it was dark out.

Art’s posture relaxed slightly. “You promise you don’t?” Said Art’s evermore crippling lack of self-confidence.

“I promise.” [Y/N] replied calmly.

“Okay. Thank you.” Art said in a small voice.

“I love you, baby. I don’t hate you. You shouldn’t have to ask that. I’m sorry I made you feel like you even have to ask that.”

Art frowned sharply. “No, I’m the one that should be sorry. You told me nicely not to talk about—“

“Don’t play that. You have to know you don’t feel like you did anything wrong, so you don’t have to invent a situation where you’re some horrible person.”

Art was silent.

[Y/N] continued. “I’m pissed because you told Randy,” RANDY. His name was RANDY. That’s it. “Our business. My business, really. He’s an asshole. It’s fine. Well, not now, but eventually. But you kinda martyred yourself on it. You don’t have to do that and I don’t hate you. You know I don’t… Right?”

“I’m sorry.” Art said quickly. He was gifted at making every single minor problem his own fault. He knew he was a little bit of an awful person for that, but he would die before admitting it. Art would hide behind his martyring habit as long as his cross could hold him, though. [Y/N] hadn’t noticed before this moment, but she could see the shining of his eyes in the digital blue-green glow. Tears. This time, less than obvious waterworks. Aw.

“I’m sorry. I’m still pissed at you for running your mouth, but I’m sorry too.”

Art nodded, said nothing else and reached for the doorknob.

Here is a frustrating thing about Art.

He said he was going to leave for downstairs once [Y/N] said she didn’t hate him. He started to make good on that vow. If he says something, he’s going to do it, even though he doesn’t have to do it.

“Come on,” [Y/N] called louder than she’d been whispering. “Come here, pretty baby.”

Pretty Baby by Blondie had been their wedding song. She had been calling him that for almost as long as she had known him. Saying it, or hearing the song always made that stunning, small crooked smile stretch up beyond his sad puppy eyes all the way to his ears.

Art’s kryptonite was pretty baby. They both knew it.

He turned to look at her with a slight blush on his cheeks, almost visible in the dark. Art shifted one of his feet childishly over the other in apprehension.. “Don’t make me say it again. I don’t like to ask twice.” [Y/N] reminded him.

After a hasty nod, Art was in bed before he [Y/N] blinked. The blonde sat bolt upright beside [Y/N] with his eyes wide. Hesitant, but coyly so. He knew this pattern. The agony and shame from her brutality would only last so long. Housepets loved to cause trouble for treat.

Not to say that Art liked to start fights so he could play some low-status lapdog that got to feel his wife’s fingers comb through his hair the way he liked as a reward for an apology. The man bit his cheek to avoid a devious smirk. A part of him did like to do that sometimes, though.

He always got away with it. He was such a nice boy.

[Y/N] rolled her eyes and leaned back into the threadbare pillows. With a finger, she beckoned Art nearer. Hesitation eliminated, Art flopped slowly down beside [Y/N]; she on her back, he on his side, facing her. Delicately, Art’s fingers dragged down [Y/N]’s arm to curl in her fingers.

Not long after that, his plush mouth climbed down from her neck. Then shoulders and collarbones. Then bicep. Elbow. Forearm and wrist. Down her hand to her silver-studded ring finger. Each kiss with accompanied with an honest and dutiful I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. He was sorry. Genuinely. Sorry for the upset he brought his wife, but not the cause. Art’s beautiful duel-colored eyes glanced up at [Y/N]’s blown pupils through her own fingers.

“I didn’t mean to talk about you like that… I just… I love you so much that I want more of you. That’s all, honey,” Art laid his head on [Y/N]’s upper chest and his mouth moved against the front of her throat. “I’m just a little stupid, huh…”

Under his lips, Art could feel the rumble of a laugh rip through [Y/N]’s throat. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair to hold him in place. “Do-don’t talk about yourself like that,” she mumbled and gave his hair a lovely tug with both hands. He whimpered. [Y/N] wanted to bottle that sound. Art would always remember what she said next and how she said it: “Only I get to talk about you like that… St-stupid.”

This was the version of [Y/N] he was going to remember when he thought of her every day for the rest of his life. That sentence, the way her hair hung from where he had pushed it away from her neck. The sting of the cold metal from her wedding ring on the back of his neck and the stone of her engagement ring pressing into where he reached his palm to place his hand over hers. There was just the wrong amount of clothes between them. Her eyes ringed smoky from the makeup smudges and the exhaustion.

“Say it again.” Art whispered, swinging a knee over [Y/N]’s thighs so he could stare down at her. His forehead pressed softly against [Y/N]’s.

[Y/N]’s mouth fell open slightly with a breathy exhalation. Holy shit. “What, pretty baby, you want me to tell you how stupid you are? You like that?” [Y/N] almost whispered into Art’s still lips. He was too shocked to kiss her back, but too turned on to pull away. Art whimpered louder than before. [Y/N] felt him nod.

So she didn’t hold back. “You think I need to punish you after you behaved like that today or something? You need to atone for what a moron you were, shithead?” [Y/N] kept her tone light enough to just about tease as her nose trailed along the side of his. Her objective was to belittle. Her nails slid down Art’s muscular, sturdy back.

They both knew Art was a masochist on his worst days. Did he get off on being degraded sometimes? Sure. But this series of events was ridiculously new and exciting for [Y/N]. And shockingly obviously for Art too.

His hips pressed into her pathetically. “What? Did you need help with something?” She asked innocently when she felt Art’s hard-on against her thigh. [Y/N] kissed him distractingly warmly for how she was treating him. Art’s head spun and he couldn’t seem to make sense of anything anymore. He had backed himself into the best kind of corner.

Across Art’s hips and side went [Y/N]’s left hand, to the front of his sweatpants. Humiliatingly, Art blinked tears out of his eyes and screwed them shut. His mouth opened and closed, but no intelligent sound came out. [Y/N] planted a kiss at the corner of his parted lips. His strong arms boxed [Y/N] protectively in from above, but she had him locked into place, really. “Baby, if you want something, you know you have to ask for it.”

“Nnh,” Art tried, eyes stuck shut. His attention was mostly spent hold himself up over his wife. His insanely gorgeous wife. [Y/N]’s other hand grabbed his jaw tenderly. He still didn’t look at her. Art was gathering his courage. “Yo-you already told me I couldn’t have what I wanted.”

With a sharp inhale, [Y/N] grip went from gentle to nonexistent. At the lack of contact, Art’s damp eyes crept open one at a time to see if his brattiness had overstepped the situation. His frightened eyes caught [Y/N]’s. She popped the side of his face sharply with an open palm. Art blinked and tipped his head to the side like a dog.

That was big trouble, huh?

“Fuck,” he said. Both of them panted in sync. “I’m sorry.” He meant it.

[Y/N] pulled Art’s face to hers and kissed him hard. “I love… you.” She said.

[lovemaybankk]

sweet - part 2: rafe cameron x kook!reader (18+)

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!reader

read part 1 here!

read part 3 here! (soon to be added)

inspired by lana del rey's song, "sweet" ♡

summary: growing up with your protective older brother, topper thornton, has been challenging yet comforting. until recently, have you been starting to see your older brother's friend, rafe cameron, in a new light and your relationship with him starts to change.

word count: 4,012 words, should be proofread but pls feel free to comment regarding anything

author's note: thank you so much for reading this new series!! i sincerely hope you enjoy :)

warning: mdni, cursing, dub-con/non-con, coercive behaviour, degradation kink, oral sex (fem receiving), teasing, masturbation

you and topper arrived at the wreck as your grandparents were settling into their favorite corner booth. the small, rustic restaurant was a local favorite, located near the water, with walls decorated in nautical-themed knickknacks and old photographs of fishing boats ran by the carerra's. the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air, mixing with the faint saltiness of the nearby ocean breeze that wafted in through the open windows.

you slid into the booth next to topper, who was already immersed in his phone, only looking up to greet your grandparents with his usual charm. "morning, grandma. grandpa," he said, flashing a grin that immediately earned him their full attention.

when the food arrived, the table grew quieter, everyone focused on their pancakes and muffins. outside, the wind picked up slightly, rustling the palm fronds that framed the wreck’s front entrance. you found yourself glancing out the window, letting the rhythmic crashing of distant waves ground you. the warmth of the food, the laughter of your grandparents, and the quiet reassurance of a north carolina sunday morning made the coming out worth it.

as the plates were cleared and coffee cups refilled, your grandpa leaned over to ask about your plans for the week, his gentle curiosity pulling you back into the moment.

after the conversation with your grandpa was nearly finished about your plans and as the plates were being cleared, your mom looked up from her coffee and focused in on you. "so, y/n," she started, her tone casual but with an edge of curiosity, "topper mentioned you went out last night."

you froze for a second, your fork halfway to your mouth. topper, of course. "yes, i just went to grab food."

your dad chimed in, setting his mug down with a thud. "at that hour? with who?"

you hesitated, glancing briefly at topper, who had a smirk plastered across his face. you knew he was waiting to see how you’d explain. "rafe took me," you admitted, keeping your tone as neutral as possible, "he offered to since topper and kelce didn't."

that immediately caught their attention. your mom’s eyebrows shot up, and your dad leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "rafe cameron?" your mom asked, her voice clear with interest. "as in ward cameron’s son?"

"yes mom," you responded in a respectful manner.

your mom’s face lit up. “he’s such a good young man,” she said, glancing at your dad. “and their family—what a legacy. ward practically built half of figure eight.”

your dad (and grandparents) nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful. "ward’s done well for himself and his family."

your mom turned her focus back to you, her smile almost too wide. "and rafe, he’s such a gentleman to take you out like that." her attention turned towards topper, "really kind of your friend to look after your little sister.”

you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, hoping the conversation would not veer the way you had a feeling it would. you said quickly, "he just gave me a ride. that’s all."

but your mom wasn’t letting it go. "still," she insisted, "you could learn a lot from rafe, topper."

topper snorted, finally speaking up. "you have no idea who rafe cameron really is. you should see him when he’s out with us..." he shook his head, clearly amused, but your parents ignored him, too wrapped up in their admiration for the cameron family.

what did topper mean by that anyways?

your mom began to wrinkle her nose slightly, her smile faltering just a bit. "well, except for sarah," she added with a sharp edge to her tone. "i still don’t know what you ever saw in her, topper."

topper rolled his eyes, clearly irritated that the topic had shifted. "mom, we broke up ages ago. can you drop it?"

but she wasn’t letting it go, leaning forward as if to make her point crystal clear. "i’m just saying, she’s always been too self-centered, and frankly, she didn’t treat you the way you deserve. not to mention the way she ran around with those pogues after everything we did for her."

"okay, okay," topper cut her off, raising his hands in surrender. "we get it. can we move on now?"

your dad sighed, and your mom turned her attention back to you, her expression softening. "you should thank rafe properly," your mom added as if it were a decree. "maybe cook for him as you usually do for us."

"sure mom," you muttered, desperate to end the conversation. topper caught your eye, his smirk growing wider, and you shot him a glare that only made him chuckle.

"as a matter of fact, kelce and rafe are staying over tonight," topper said casually, leaning back in his seat like it was no big deal.

"what?" you asked, your fork clattering against your plate. really, a night of dealing with topper’s friends taking over the house?

your parents exchanged a glance, "well, remember your father and i planned to be out of the island tonight, so you both must hold down the house. again y/n, maybe cook for them—and bake something too. it would be a lovely gesture to thank rafe for being so kind to you last night."

"wait, what? why can’t they just order in?" you protested, already dreading the responsibility they were about to shove onto you.

your mom gave you a pointed look, as if the answer were obvious. "because it’s more thoughtful if you put in the effort yourself, y/n. it’s the least you can do."

you resisted the urge to groan and before you could argue further, topper chimed in, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "exactly, y/n, make us something good please. rafe and kelce will appreciate it,” he said, but you could tell from his smirk that he was thinking about himself, not them.

"you mean you’ll appreciate it," you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

topper shrugged, completely unbothered. "maybe. but hey, if it keeps you from ordering random takeout, i’m all for it."

you leaned back into your seat, realizing you had no way out of this. and it was "exactly what you needed" which was going to be a night of acting like a housekeeper to topper and friends, all perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.

or was that all the night would have in store?

there you were standing in the kitchen later that evening, the sound of pots clattering and the smell of something savory filling the air. the counter was currently full of ingredients like bags of flour, bottles of spices, and a carton of eggs you hadn’t realized you’d left open until one nearly rolled off the edge. with a sigh, you grabbed it just in time and muttered underneath your breath how you couldn't believe you had to do this right now.

you could hear laughter coming from the living room, where topper, kelce, and rafe were laid across the couches, clearly having a good time doing absolutely nothing. their voices carried through the house, a mix of jokes and conversation, completely oblivious to the effort you were putting in.

you stirred the pot of sauce on the stove, the wooden spoon clinking against the sides, wondering for the tenth time why you hadn’t just ordered a pizza and called it a day. but no, your parents, mostly your mom, had made it clear this had to be a gesture.

as the timer beeped for the roasted vegetables, you quickly pulled the tray out of the oven, the steam fogging up in your face. you glanced at the clock, realizing you’d been in the kitchen for over an hour now.

part of you felt satisfaction at how the meal resulted, but another part was abound at the fact that it was all for topper and his friends, who probably wouldn’t even say thank you. still, you couldn’t help but wonder if rafe might notice the effort.

with everything finally done, you set the table, begrudgingly arranging plates and silverware for the four of you. the food looked good enough to belong in a restaurant: pasta with a rich, velvety sauce, golden garlic knots, roasted vegetables glistening with olive oil, and the cookies you’d baked resting on a plate at the center of the table.

"dinner’s ready!" you called out loudly.

topper, kelce, and rafe strolled in from the living room, clearly in no rush. topper plopped down at the head of the table, immediately reaching for a garlic knot. "about time," he said with a grin. "i was starving."

"you’re welcome," you annoyingly muttered, sliding into a seat across from rafe, who gave you a small nod of acknowledgment.

kelce wasted no time piling food onto his plate, mumbling something about you being "the best cook." topper, of course, claimed most of the pasta, though he didn’t forget to make a snarky comment about how you probably "overdid the seasoning." you chose to focus on your plate instead.

rafe, on the other hand, served himself modestly, gave the food an appraising glance, and said, "this looks really good, y/n. thanks for making all this."

you blinked, caught off guard by the genuine tone in his voice. "of course," you replied and the small smile tugging at your lips gave you away.

as the four of you ate, the conversation circled around, mostly driven by topper and kelce’s usual banter. but every so often, you’d catch rafe glancing your way, and you couldn’t quite catch what to make of it.

as the meal went on, you couldn’t help but notice that while rafe had started with a small portion, he was subtly piling more onto his plate every time the conversation picked up.

by the time kelce and topper were too busy arguing over the last garlic knot, rafe’s plate was stacked high with pasta and vegetables, his casual demeanor masking how much he’d actually eaten. it was almost funny, watching him quietly load up while the others were too wrapped up in their banter to notice.

it was also adorable, really. the way he tried to act casual about it, like he wasn’t completely going back for seconds, thirds, and even fourths. you caught yourself smiling a little as you watched him scoop another helping of pasta, his expression neutral as if he wasn’t practically inhaling your cooking. the contrast between his polite words earlier and his quiet enthusiasm now made you feel a weird mix of pride and amusement. he genuinely seemed to enjoy your meal, and it was pretty endearing.

the rest of the evening passed in a blur of distant laughter and muffled music coming from the living room where topper, kelce, and rafe had set up. after dinner, you decided to retreat to your room, relieved to have a bit of peace and quiet. with a cozy blanket and a show you’d been meaning to catch up on, you let yourself relax, determined to stay out of their way for the night.

eventually, the night felt calm enough for you to get a snack.

rubbing your eyes and tugging on a random hoodie, you sneaked into the kitchen. the entire house was mostly dark, the glow from the stove light casting soft shadows over the counters. you opened the fridge, scanning for anything quick and easy. maybe a leftover cookie, maybe a fruit. you chose to instead for a container on the counter, a sound behind you made you pause. you turned and saw a tall figure leaning casually against the doorway.

"late night snack?" rafe’s voice was low and calm, carrying a faint trace of amusement.

"what are you doing up?" you muttered, still holding the container of cookies.

he shrugged, stepping into the kitchen, his movements unhurried. "couldn’t sleep. topper and kelce are snoring like chainsaws," he said with a small smirk. "thought i'd grab a drink."

you gestured toward the cabinet where the glasses were kept, "you remember where we have everything right?"

“yup, but thanks,” he said, but instead of grabbing a glass, he leaned against the counter, watching you with an easy gaze. "figured you’d had enough of us for one night?"

"trust me, i did," you replied dryly, taking a bite of a cookie. "but i got hungry."

his smirk deepened, and he stepped closer, closing the small distance between you two. "you know, you did not have to go all out earlier. dinner was super tasty," he said, his voice softer now.

you blinked, caught off guard by the compliment, especially with how he was suddenly looking at you. "thanks...i'm really happy you appreciated it," you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

he took another step closer. his hand brushed the counter near yours, his proximity making your heart race.

you could feel the warmth radiating from him, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. his gaze flicked down to your lips briefly before meeting your eyes again.

"i meant it, you know," he said, his tone growing more thoughtful. "you’ve always had this… way of putting so much into everything you do. it’s something i’ve noticed for a long time."

his words hung in the air, heavy with a sincerity that made your chest tighten. you stared at him, seeing his expression was open and serious.

"you...really think that?" you asked, your voice quieter now.

"of course," he said, his gaze softening yet intensely on you. "you don’t see it, do you? how much you’re worth? the way you laugh, the way you stare, the way you care...even when your family does not even notice. but i do. i always have."

his words hit you hard, and you stared at him, his expression so open yet filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, making the space between you feel smaller than ever.

"rafe, i…" you began, but your voice faltered, with no idea how to respond to the pure honesty in his tone.

he let out a low, frustrated laugh, running a hand through his hair as he stepped closer, his movements suddenly deliberate, charged. "god, you’re so oblivious," he muttered, shaking his head. "do you even realize how long i’ve wanted this? wanted you?"

his words stunned you, the heat behind them leaving you breathless. "rafe, i had-"

he interrupted as his hands gripped your waist tightly as he pulled you toward him, his lips crashing onto yours with a kind of intensity that left no room for hesitation. it was urgent, insistent, like he’d been holding back for far too long and couldn’t anymore.

you gasped against his lips, but his hold on you was steady and grounding. he took this opportunity to plunge his tongue into your mouth, and he swirled his tongue around to explore, while also urging yours to meet with his. your hands instinctively clutched at his shoulders, letting yourself sink into the kiss, meeting his passion with yours and succumbing to his touch.

"rafe, no.." you moaned out to him as he began to trail a path of kisses down your neck as he tightly groped your behind, making you loudly gasp. he suddenly came face to face with you again. looking intensely into your eyes, "tell me you do not want this. we can stop this all right now." you held your ground, your gaze locking with his, matching the intensity in his eyes without faltering.

"you want this as much as i do. or else you wouldn’t be here...like this." he abruptly grabbed your neck, cradling it from behind, and pulled you in closer to him as he cupped your lower breast, causing you to audibly whimper.

he let out a chuckle, the sound loud and clear in your face, "you know…i always thought, with seeing you around all the time… and i thought about how innocent you were."

"but look at you right now." he said in a quiet, raspy tone as he began to trail his fingertips down from your chest, embracing every little part of your torso until he reached the waistband of your pants.

you felt utterly grounded in place, having the strongest urge to speak back to him but at the same time, you felt your arousal rising through your body from his touch. you noticed a sudden pooling in your crotch and were tightly clenching your legs together, desperate for touch, his touch.

he looks down at you fully and traces his eyes up and down, savoring the sight of you being visibly hungry and needy for him. he finally focuses his glance to below your waist and he again, traced his touch down your crotch until he felt contact with the area that would send waves of pleasure through you.

you couldn't help yourself but have your mouth loudly gasp and whimper as he began to firmly rub his two fingers up and down your clit in measured movements. as your sounds tore through, his hand quickly shot out, harshly covering your mouth. his grip was resolute, quieting you instantly as his intense gaze locked onto yours. leaning in close, his voice dropped to a low and raspy whisper, completely with authority, "don't make a noise. you don't want your big brother to see you right now...right?"

"with my hands like this..." he maintained that relentless, steady pace, his gaze fixed intently on you. he watched every subtle movement of your body, every tremor and vibration that reverberated from your muffled sounds against his hand. his eyes never left you, taking in the way he pulled wave after wave of sensation through you.

he abruptly stopped, and a soft whimper escaped your lips, pleading for him to continue, to keep massaging your needy folds with the same rhythm. he lowered his face in front of your ears and said, "bend over right now."

you shook your head quickly at his words, your heart racing. You knew it was wrong—being here, being touched by your brother's best friend—regardless, a part of you couldn't resist him. deep down, you knew you wanted this too, all along.

he gripped your shoulders and forcefully pressed you forward until your torso met the surface of the kitchen counter. the pressure of his hand on your back kept you in place, leaving no room for resistance as he leaned in closer, his need for you visible.

"you want to know a secret?" he asked, his voice soft, almost a whisper. you nodded, your curiosity piqued, heart beating faster with anticipation.

he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke, "i watched you that day." he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours, as though waiting for your response. you knew exactly what he was talking about.

"i was worried for you," he said softly, his voice filled with concern. "i heard noises coming from your room when i was trying to go to the bathroom."

you looked up at him, the tension in his words had your heart racing.

"i came closer to take a look," he continued, his gaze flickering away for a moment before locking with yours again. "and I thought, 'is that what i think it is?' but i also thought, no, not topper's little sister."

his words hung in the air, heavy and full of uncertainty. he took a deep breath before he spoke again. "then i opened the door very, very quietly, and saw you." his eyes darkened slightly, the intensity of the moment shifting.

he started to pull your pants down in a swift motion, your body tensed, instinctively trying to push him away, but before you could react, he grabbed your wrists, locking them together with a grip so strong you couldn't pull free. he pinned them to the table, his hold unyielding. the pressure of his touch sent a wave of heat through you, making your breath catch in your throat as you struggled to regain control.

"i watched you touch yourself, rubbing your sweet cunt in gentle motions. your legs were wide open facing towards the door, like you wanted me to watch you."

he started to rub through your soaked panties, "like this. and i watched you cum, watched you fully release yourself...oh, i will forever remember that."

"but you know what really got me? what you moaned when you were cumming. you wanna repeat it for me right now?" he continued the pace of his strokes against your heat and although you knew what to say, you stayed there, taking him.

you jolted forward and loudly gasped, which echoed through the kitchen, after rafe slapped your cunt. he harshly said and continued to stroke your cunt in a pleasurefully steady motion, "repeat it right fucking now."

you moaned out loud for him, "rafe...". he released that chuckle of his as he lowered himself, balancing on his knees. he buries his face into your wet area, securing his grip on your plush skin, digging into you.

with a slow, deliberate motion, he stuck his tongue flat onto your folds, pressing it gently. his tongue sank into your hole, the overflowing juices moving around your folds as he explored deeper with his tongue.

he paused for a moment, savoring the sweetness, his eyes briefly closing in enjoyment. as he stroked you with his tongue, his jaw worked steadily, and he started to roughly suck your clit into his mouth, flooding your senses with intense pleasure.

you quickly bucked your hips backward onto his face, beginning to subtly grind your pussy into his wet mouth, as he continued to glide his tongue over your folds that were soaked. you wanted more, you needed more. you quietly whimpered to him, "that feels so good, rafe."

heat building inside of you, your breathless moans coming out ragged. your hands instinctively rotate behind you, clutching at his head, fingers tightly grabbing his hair. you were trying desperately to push him off, but it only made him buried himself deeper.

"rafe, please...i could-"

your body quivered through your climax, each wave of pleasure consuming you, as beneath you, he continued the steady pace of his wet tongue thrusting into your throbbing hole, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you and extending your climax.

"oh...yes, rafe!"

you moaned further as you felt the harsh sucking of him trying to taste all of you, and then the continuous licking through your folds to make sure he got all of it.

your body felt limp, the exhaustion from everything washing over you in waves. your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as you sank into the feeling of release. rafe noticed, his eyes softening for a moment before his usual smirk returned. he lifted you with ease, his arms strong and secure around you.

"couldn’t hold on, huh?" he murmured, his voice thick with both amusement and something else—something you couldn’t quite catch.

you barely managed to nod, feeling a strange mix of vulnerability and something more in the air between you. he carried you effortlessly to your bedroom, each step deliberate as though he knew exactly what he was doing.

once inside, he lowered you gently onto the bed, making sure you were comfortable. his fingers lingered at your side, gently tucking the blanket around you, his touch soft yet deliberate. as he adjusted the covers, his eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, the teasing edge in his expression softened.

he leaned down, his breath brushing against your skin, and placed a slow, lingering kiss on your forehead. the warmth of his lips lingered even after he pulled away, his gaze still fixed on you with a quiet intensity. "sleep well," he whispered, his voice low and tender, the weight of his presence settling in the room.

"get some rest," he said, but the tone of his voice shifted, carrying a teasing undertone. he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "but don’t think i'll let you off easy next time."

taglist! - @purplerose291, @o0itsjustme0o, @gillybear17, @l1ttlesstar, @10ava01, @frankoceanluvr11, @mattyskies, @my-name-is-baby, @ironmakerperfection, @cherry-coloureddfunk, @hoelesslyt, @crazylady20, @itsyourmanjuno

[temiizpalace]

☆┊MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE?

SUMMARY: many heroes wished to share this dance with you, yet you chose him.

CHARACTERS: HEARTSLABYUL

GENRE: fluff

OTHER: heartslabyul savanaclaw octavinelle scarabia pomefiore ignihyde diasomnia

NOTES: thank you for an entire year, tumblr! as celebration for my first anniversary, have a small mini scenario as a token of my gratitude.

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

PROLOGUE ☆˙∘

excitement fluttered within the confines of the classroom. a nationwide gala was being held this evening for students all over twisted wonderland, and this years selected host was none other than the prestigious night raven college. you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous with how everybody spoke of such an event.

even if dances weren’t your thing, it was still worth it to go, right? “myah.. what’s with all the blabbering? it’s just a borin stuffy ball, right? all ya do is stand around for hours. i can guarantee ya not everyone’s gonna have a dance partner.” grim huffs, beginning to grow annoyed with the gossip.

“well, there’s going to be food from all over the region. at least then we’d have something to do, right?” you grin, your partner in crime suddenly very excited for the dance. “why didn’t ya start with that?! we needa go prep our outfits right now!”

evening came sooner than you anticipated. as chaotic as nrc was, somehow this was 10x as lively as usual. everybody had spoke with someone new while you were stuck at the snack bar with grim. a new face appears, wishing to have a small chat.

🌹┊RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS∘˙✩

“so you’re the magicless prefect, hm?”

a young boy leaned on the table, his unexpected presence startling you. “and you are..?” you question, curious as to how he knew you. he looked unfamiliar, but you couldn’t help but notice his pristine and well dressed appearance. he was handsome, certainly.

“where are my manners? amias reinheardt, a pleasure.” he smiles, bowing slightly before you. “i have heard lots about you, meeting you in person is truly an honor.” the way he spoke so highly of you was flattering, it was almost too much. but all his praise leads back to the same question: how does he know you?

“it’s nice to meet you, but how do you know me exactly?” you ask, raising your brow. “you’re quite popular. my classmate neige had many things to say, i just had to meet you myself.” he chuckles, and suddenly it clicked. classmate? “you’re from rsa?”

“correct you are.” he chuckles. now it all made sense. he was surprisingly chatty, but not in an off putting way. it was actually nice having someone not stuffing their face anytime you tried to talk to them. however, your chatter and laughter caught the attention of a nearby redhead.

“riddle, calm down.” trey sighs, seeing as riddle grit his teeth from afar. “what are you on about, trey? i am perfectly calm.” unfortunately, riddle was not raised as a good liar. “just go up to them, im sure it’s fine.” the boy in glasses sighs, adjusting them so they don’t fall off his face.

“it’s rude to interrupt conversations, you know.” riddle frowns, crossing his arms. despite his attempts to act unbothered, his gaze would still find its way back to you. seven why must you do this to him?

maybe he should just go over there. why fight it if there’s nothing to gain but seething jealousy?

a slow song starts to play, students suddenly stopping and taking their partners to the floor. amias paused as well, looking to you with a small smile. “oh? prefect, shall we?” he holds his hand out to you, waiting for you to take it.

riddle, on the other hand, was not going to stand for that. “[MC].” riddle struts over, causing you to whip your head over in his direction. “riddle?”

“may i have this dance?” he puts a hand behind his back, bowing slightly while reaching out for you. “pardon?” amias interjects, looking to riddle then back at you. “i believe i had asked first.”

oh. taken aback by their sudden proposals, you had to take a moment to ensure this is reality and not some weird vivid dream you were apart of.

you hesitate for a moment before taking riddle’s hand. “im sorry amias..” you mumble, shooting him an apologetic look. “don’t be. maybe someday..” he trails off, watching as riddle led you to the dance floor.

“at least try to be more cautious around strangers, prefect. not all of them have good intentions.” he sighs, waltzing you around the ballroom. his movements were refined, not perfect but not imperfect either. he made sure not to step on your foot no matter how bad your dancing may be.

“oh come on, he wasn’t a bad guy. maybe you’re just jealous.” you laugh, his silence a clear enough answer for you. his cheeks were red, but it was far too endearing.

“i wouldn’t want to share this dance with anyone else, riddle.” you hold a firm grip on his hands as you spoke, unable to hide your own flustered expression in turn.

“..im happy to hear that, [MC]..”

❤️┊ACE TRAPPOLA˙∘✩

“you [MC]?”

you turn to find a short boy invading your personal space, taking a few steps back to get a clear view of him. “uhm.. yes? and you’re.?” you answer, confused. his outfit was a tad disheveled, like it was barely put together. there were wrinkles and folds in his suit, but he had an odd charm about him.

“alan. alan fletcher. upcoming star player for rsa’s basketball team.” he grins triumphantly, his expression almost cocky. “ohh, i have a friend in basketball!” you reply, making the boy flinch.

“what?! err i mean, i heard a lot about ya. popular dude from school talks about you sometimes.” he shrugs, like he was reading your mind. you were just about to ask how he knows you!

“well there’s not much to know about me.” you laugh awkwardly, fiddling with the ends of your sleeves.

“yeah right, you’re from a different world! cmon, talk about it! im curious. what’s different there?” he asks, leaning on the table. it’s been awhile since you’ve last got to talk about home. with all the chaos at nrc, you’ve almost forgotten you’re trying to look for a way back.

“i guess there are a few things.” you chuckle, causing the boys heart to flutter.

ace frowned from afar, an unfamiliar feeling of jealousy coming over him as he stared. “ACE, THATS WAY TOO MUCH PUNCH! STOP POURIN.” deuce yells, his cup overflowing and spilling onto the tablecloth.

ace looks to deuce. he was absentmindedly scooping punch into his cup without realizing it. “gah, we need napkins! professor crewel would kill us if he saw this.”

while deuce was fretting over the spill, rushing over for napkins or any cloth he can find to mask the spill, ace felt lost. has he always been this jealous over you? i mean, sure he’s given a few dudes the stink eye every now and then, but this felt different.

the song changed abruptly, everyone now finding a dance partner or stepping off the floor. alan looks at you, waiting for you to say something. you try to avoid his gaze, his stare beginning to grow unsettling.

breaking the silence, alan spoke. “hey, do you wanna—”

“yo! [MC]!” ace shouts, running over to you with a cheeky grin. “been lookin for ya. cmon, let’s dance!” he grabs your hand, pulling you towards the middle of the ballroom.

“what?! hey!” alan calls out for you, but by the time you turned around to apologize, he was already out of sight.

you frown at ace, to which he scoffs in return. “what?”

“that was a bitch move, ace.” you pinch his nose, causing him to wince in pain.

“OW! look, we can apologize later. shut up and dance for awhile!” he chuckles, spinning you around.

“thought you were gonna dance with deuce. you jealous?”

“..i said shut up dance.”

(deuce was pissed to see ace leave him with the stain but at least you’re having fun).

♠┊DEUCE SPADE∘˙✩

“are you the student with no magic?”

a boy in a tacky looking hat smiled at you, making you stare for awhile before finding his eyes. aside from his hat, his suit was quite.. eccentric. colorful, for sure. somehow it all tied together, but he would most definitely stand out in a crowd. “i am..” you nod slowly.

“the names thistle!” he grinned, holding his hand out. as you reach out to shake his hand, he pulls a rose out of his sleeve and hands it to you elegantly. somehow this guy reminds you of a certain somebody in pomefiore.. interesting.

“are you familiar with che’nya? i know he sneaks onto your campus at times.” he laughs.

“i see him at unbirthday parties. didn’t know he talked about me so often.” you chuckle, finding the thought flattering.

“he tells me you’re from another universe. care to talk about it?” he asks, resting his chin on his hand.

“hm.. to kill time i guess.”

deuce stared at you, his expression blank and empty. you were laughing and having a good time, he should be happy, right? why does his heart ache so much?

seeing you with a rose in hand and a huge smile on your face would be such a breathtaking sight if it weren’t for who was next to you.

ace took notice of deuce’s expression, or lack of thereof. he smirked and nudged him gently. “looks like the prefect is hot on the market.” Ace teased, a cocky grin on his face.

deuce shoots him a glare, suddenly frowning at his partner in crime. “shut up! they can talk to whoever they want! im not jealous.” he huffs, crossing his arms.

“i never said anything about jealousy. yeesh, lighten up.” ace holds his hands up in defense, backing away slowly. “if you’re really upset just go talk to em. im sure your presence is welcomed with open arms anyway.”

“you think so..?” deuce felt his eyes lighten up, his gaze averting back to you.

the ballroom crowded to the center, students finding their partners to dance to the slow rhythm. thistle looks at you, putting his hand out. before he can even ask, a loud shout from across the ballroom stops him in his tracks.

“[MC]!!” deuce sprints over, stopping in front of you while panting for breath.

“deuce?! where did you—”

“WOULD YOU LIKE TO DANCE WITH ME?” he asks in between breaths, eyes shimmering in a newfound confidence. realizing he sounded a little pushy, he finally regulates his breathing and asks once more.

“uhm— i meant uh.. may i have this dance.?” he holds his hand out, bowing slightly before you.

you look to thistle, he smiled and gestured for you to take deuce’s hand. before taking off, you mouth an apology before turning to deuce and bringing him to the center.

“you didn’t have to run, yknow. i would’ve turned him down anyway.” you laugh, noticing deuce’s stiff movements.

“s-sorry. i guess i was just scared.” his dancing was robotic, missing his steps constantly. he stepped on his foot, but you managed to pick up the slack.

“ah! sorry!” he mumbled an apology, to which you grin in return.

“don’t worry, we can work on your dancing together. how about next week?”

“r-really?”

“really. consider it a date.”

“A DATE?! oh, i mean— sure. sounds good!” despite deuce’s attempts to seem calm and collected, he couldn’t hide the dopey grin spread across his face.

♦┊CATER DIAMOND˙∘✩

“so it’s true! nrc does have a student without magic!”

a startling shout from your right catches you off guard, turning to meet a rabbit beastmen with a huge smile. he wasn’t really wearing a suit, more of a vest. it wasn’t buttoned up all the way, but you must say he had really nice hair. looked so smooth.. “uh, tadaa?”

“what’s your name?” he asks, looking at you intently. “what’s yours?” you asked in turn, putting a hand on your hip.

“woah, woah, i asked first didn’t i?”

“well you initiated the conversation.” you shrug.

“alright, alright. im timothy parker, and you are?”

“[MC], nice to meet you.”

“i’ve heard so much about you from a friend of mine! we should get to know each other! have you played 20 questions?” he was a quick talker, you barely had time to reply before he talked about something different.

“i think ive played before.” you recall, nodding your head. “cool! ill start then!”

cater watched you, two drinks in his hand held firmly within his grip. he wasn’t one for jealousy, but something about this guy doesn’t sit right with him. his expression was usually so well hidden, but he couldn’t hide his frown. riddle took notice of cater’s dismay and raises a brow.

“cater, the drink might spill if you hold the cup so tightly.” riddle sighs, catching the attention of the boy beside him. “whoopsies! sorry, riddle! got a little distracted, haha!” he tries laughing it off, but that only makes him less believable.

“is something bothering you?” riddle questions, crossing his arms while looking in the direction cater was staring at.

“nope! don’t worry about it, cay-cay is fine!” he gives riddle a wink before walking towards you with a smile. “[MC]! heyy!”

you turn to see cater approaching, flashing a smile before waving enthusiastically. “cater!” timothy looks over, his smile faltering slightly at the sight of a new face.

“timothy, cater, cater, timothy.” you introduce them to each other. both boys stay silent for a moment before breaking the silence with a few casual greetings and fake smiles.

“hii! names cater, [MC]’s bestie!” cater hands you a drink, to which you eagerly accept. “hello. im timothy.” he replies dryly, much different than the way he greeted you.

the conversation flowed normally, though you chose to ignore their obvious distaste for each others presence. such cheery guys choosing to hate each other instead of bond, it made you kinda sad.

the music shifts to a slow song, cater immediately looking at you with a smile. “[MC], wanna dance?” he asks before timothy could, not failing to see his frown. cater put out his hand, gesturing for you to take it.

you felt your cheeks warm up. you put your drink down to hold his hand as he takes you away from the snack bar.

“isn’t this fun!” he beams, waltzing around with you. “i should take a photo!”

“if you do, you should send it to me. we can have matching profile pics.” you laugh, twirling him around.

“that’s so cute! smile for the cam!” he holds his phone up, snapping a quick photo of you two together. he posts it quickly, putting a string of emojis on the caption before putting his phone away and spinning you both around the room.

your smile means the world to him. it always will.

he didn’t want a viral post, he just wanted to keep your smile preserved for all time.

♣️┊TREY CLOVER∘˙✩

“boo!”

you jump, turning to find a floating head beside you. that head looked familiar. “che’nya?”

“meow how’d you guess?” suddenly, in the blink of an eye his full body appeared. his outfit was definitely not up to dresscode, lots of patches stitched onto an already brightly colored vest. it does suit him, but it feels like you were flashbanged.

“just a hunch. did you need something?” you ask, only to be met with his usual catlike smile. che’nya looked somewhere, grinning mischievously before averting his attention back down at you.

“wanna see a trick?”

“uh, sure?” and with that, he pulls out a deck of cards. he gestures for you to take one before suddenly changing the deck into a full tea set.

laughing in amusement, trey couldn’t help his heart from singing. why did his damn friend need to tease him like that? he clenched his fist tightly, feeling a little embarrassed for being jealous like that.

“trey-trey, let’s take it down a notch! che’nya’s just playing!” cater reassures his friend, patting him on the shoulder. trey sighs, adjusting his glasses properly.

“i know.. i shouldn’t even be jealous. it’s not like we’re together or anything.” he laughs awkwardly, making cater tut in response.

“don’t you see the way they look at you? when they bake with you it’s more than just being a helping hand, yknow?” cater crosses his arms, causing trey to stiffen.

“huh?”

“enough chit-chattt, let’s go join their convo!” cater drags trey to the snack bar, actively ignoring his protests and obvious refusals.

the melodies of slow violin play across the ballroom, students around beginning to slow dance.

“now’s your shot! go!” cater shoved trey towards you with great force. trey nearly fell to his knees but he managed to find his balance before he embarrassed himself.

“GAH!”

che’nya smirks, pointing behind you. “what?”

“trey?!”

“[MC],” trey puts his hand out for you. “may i have this dance?” a small smile hinted at the corners of his lips, you swore butterflies began to erupt in your stomach.

“it’d be an honor.” you take his hand, leading him away to the middle of the floor.

trey was surprisingly good at slow dancing. much better than that time with the ghost bride. “taking dance lessons, clover?” you ask, laughing as he averts your eyes.

“i’d rather not humiliate myself for a second time, haha.” he chuckles, swaying you around.

“i was honestly a little jealous seeing you have a good time with che’nya.” he admits, in which you burst into laughter in return.

“whys that? im sure you know he was just playing?”

“you can never be too sure.”

“don’t worry trey, this dance was reserved for you.”

“that’s reassuring to hear..”

A/N: names for these NPCS were harder than the actual fic 💀💀💀

date published: 11/27/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

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