#i should keep a fic at least one day after i write it and before posting it so that doesnt happen

[thepenandthepistol]

Fragile Machinery (Mumbo x reader)

This has been a long time coming. You've felt his death being sown through the land in every failed trap attempt and close call. With a single mistake, you are helpless in preventing it.

A/N: Honestly, did not know I had this fic in me. I was already kinda sad and pissed with some other stuff and watching Mumbo explode has made me a little sadder than it has the right to. Haven't watched everyone's pov so player positions are probably inaccurate. Reader and Mumbo aren't platonic or romantic in this, but are the secret third thing. Also reader is an avian. Again. (1270 words)

Art by @/YongyiMoon on Twitter and dividers by @saradika-graphics

You thought Mumbo was finally safe. For the last few weeks, you’ve followed him like a shadow, dark wings and hood obscuring your face like a damned shade. Most people haven’t chanced a hit at Mumbo, not after Jimmy’s stunt and your subsequent presence. Thankfully, that’s given you the chance to parse out the competition, the dark green names and their hideouts, your neighbors, above and below. From the distance, wild shades of pink fly in the air. Lizzie’s set of lives calls to you from your place atop the highest of Mumbo’s bridges.

You hear him sit beside you, but don’t manage a word; there’s a silent type of dread in the air, the type you’re afraid to speak into existence. He looks you over, and despite all the unease, the sweet smile on his face drips through the cracks of your tough facade. You recognize it now, the emotion. Terror.

“We need to get you another life.” The only thing you can get to leave your mouth is the obvious. You steady your trembling fingers at your side before encasing his hand. It’s gentle in a way you’re not experienced in being.

“We will. We’ve got my mace. From here on, it’s smooth sailing.” His eyes crinkle, and his goofy mustache draws upward from his smirk. 

“You can take one of mine.” The phrase leaves you before you can word it in a less desperate way. The warmth from Mumbo’s hand only partially eases the chilling anxiety that races through your veins. He looks at you and can only frown. “Get another kill with the mace, and you’ll be back to green. Besides, if anyone here should try their hand at fighting, I think I’m our best bet.” Silence follows.

“No. I- Genuinely, I don’t think I can do that.” He says it, laughing almost. Like the thought of sacrificing yourself for him is some unthinkable deed. 

“Alright... I’ll help you get your kill, then.” This is your promise, and it weighs so much heavier on his shoulders than it should. It’s new, this type of arrangement. He could only recall being taken seriously through faint memories of another life, even then surfacing only in death.

He rests his head against your shoulder, and you pretend not to cave into docility, your gaze still like a hawk’s, following the rats below.

The next day, preparations start early and eat into another evening. As the air cools with the sun’s descent through the horizon, you trail your friends from above. Grian talks casually with Etho and BigB, but he often glances up at Mumbo upon the wall, betraying his unease. No one suspects your dark form in the pitch black sky above until a trivia bot glides down and you dash behind the taller cobble pillar with Mumbo. 

“I can’t hit anyone from here.” He checks around the corner and down into the commotion. An idea strikes you and paints a mischievous grin on your face.

“I can help with that.” You suddenly yank him into the air from under his armpits and hover over the clearing. Mumbo goes limp in your hands but then tightens his grip on the mace once again. A green heart glints from a speck on the ground, and with a nod from Mumbo, you let go. 

A bone-breaking crunch reverberates as you hear your friend’s victory cries. You zoom out to join them through the castle’s front gates as the others yell out in shock. Mumbo runs for his life, but even in the chaos, you clearly see his heart stay the same forsaken yellow.

With a glance behind you, the terrible realization catches up. Gem’s body. You dropped him in the wrong spot.

The entire way home is spent in an even worse silence than before. Mumbo laughs it off, but your mind can picture it so clearly now. His own body, bloodied and cold. 

You begin fervently building the tower alongside Grian. Its threatening presence is a small reprise from the vulnerability of defeat. You run your fingers along the cool deepslate and look out onto the meeting room.

Skizz and Mumbo are messing with a trivia bot, pushing him around while he boops and bleeps. Scar makes his way down the mountain, obviously up to no good, and steals Skizz’s bot. He rows off the platform in his little wooden boat, and you scoff at the absurdity. Mumbo looks up at you, and it only takes a second to send you both into laughter. Skizz drops into the water below after Scar before Grian can yell out a coherent answer to his bot’s question.

You can’t really believe it when you feel levity in the air. The sun begins setting one last time, but you, Grian and Mumbo, move around the tower, now turned turret, and make shots at the people on the ground. It’s incredible how a killing machine can inspire such giddiness, but finally, there is hope. There’s more than hope. This thing is bound to kill someone at one point. Its range and the recklessness of the teams in traversing the mountain assure you that if not green, Mumbo will go back to a healthy yellow. 

Faraway cries draw your attention back downward as a massive group stands right in the traps danger zone. Your eyes shine with wonder as you turn back and face Mumbo. He takes a step back hesitantly, and Grian questions him without losing sight of Gem, ominously standing in the middle of a past crater.

“Jimmy’s there as well.” Shit. Restlessness returns to your stance as the perfect chances make their way up the cherry wood stairs and leave range one by one. 

Instinct drives you to fly into the air. Straight up into the cloudy, dark sky, leaving a gust of wind in your wake. Mumbo looks up at you with furrowed brows before you dive toward the crowd. Like a bullet, piercing the space between you both, your arms quickly wrap around Jimmy. The others present jump back in surprise as you take off just as quickly as you arrived. Eyes focusing on those pink braids, you brutally knock Jimmy’s flailing body into Lizzie. She stumbles into a puffer fish trap, giving you all the time you need to safely get Jimmy into the air, outside the blast radius.

The sun begins to rise behind the turret; time seems to slow. Grian woops and yells from the tower’s parapets. He eyes you with mirth in his pupils; they dilate as he places the explosive minecart, and Mumbo sends it chasing its own tail to power up. Lizzie has decided to go for the worst course of action and climb back down into the dead center of the craters from past failed attempts. 

Your wings are heavy as you fly overhead while Jimmy continues to struggle in your grasp. He doesn’t seem to have a sword, and the blunt cobble he uses to scratch your talons is only secondary to the relief of Mumbo’s eventual kill. 

He smiles, wider than you’ve ever seen him, and in a single distracted moment, Jimmy manages to land a hit to your wings. You yell, more from surprise than hurt, and catch a glimpse of Mumbo pulling out a bow and arrow, taking the stance to shoot, putting his foot back just barely on top of the powered track. 

Your yell is bloodcurdling. Mumbo hears the minecart stop at his side. Terror fills his eyes, and in the split moment he has, he reaches a desperate hand out toward you. 

[hueseok]

it was always you.

for as long as you remember, you’ve always had the fattest crush on your childhood friend, jeon jungkook. it never blossomed into something more though, because that’s what happens when life naturally takes it course—you grow up, you move on, and you pretend that those feelings never existed in order to maintain the good friendship that remained between the two of you over the years.

so when he visits you after work one day, asking you to marry him, you do everything you can to refuse, because the reason he’s asking you isn’t due to the fact that he finally realized that he loved you after all this time, but because he thinks he’s doing you a big favor.

or at least, that’s what you think.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 13.2k

rating: 18+

content: fluff, semi-angst, childhood friends to lovers au, pining au | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + brother’s best friend!jungkook; professor!reader + editor!reader | inspired by purple hearts

warning/s: swearing, potentially wrong medical & military information (i’m sorry but i tried to do as much research i can 😭), mentions of having type 1 diabetes, making out, heavy petting, implied sexual content: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is only fiction!)

MINI PLAYLIST: ♫ die with a smile — lady gaga, bruno mars ♫ juno — sabrina carpenter ♫ selfish — *nsync ♫ nandito na ako — benj pangilinan, angela ken

opening note. omg this is my first full length fic in two damn years i think??? certainly took a long time before i had the motivation to write again but i hope y'all like this! to my og readers who still keep up with my shenanigans, this one's for you 🥹💗

“Any questions?”

A boy wearing half-rimmed glasses raises his hand and you gesture for him to speak. “Can we get an extension on the Save the Cat project due tomorrow?”

You sigh, just as several of your students begin agreeing with him and muttering reasons of their own why the extension should be approved. It’s the week before finals, and you’re aware that the class must be packed with assignments and projects for several of their classes because of it, hence the rather last minute request. They look tired and pleading, a complete reflection of how you were when you were the one in their position nearly a decade ago, begging for an extension from a professor who you thought was kind enough to be swayed with the proposition.

You scan the crowd. “How many of you are at least 70% with it, hm?”

More than half of the class raises their hands.

“Okay, that’s honestly unexpected,” you say, pleased to know that they aren’t slacking on your subject. “Does Monday sound good? That’s three more days, to be fair. I don’t want to extend it further because I have to read everyone’s work and you guys know I don’t like rushing it before turning in your final grade.”

A chorus of relief and thanks echoed in the room, all of your students either dramatically sinking in their chair or erupting in an animated conversation with their seatmate or making crying faces to portray how grateful they are.

“Thank you so much, Ms. ____!”

“I love you, Ms. ____!”

“Ms. ____, I will offer my first child to you,” one theatrically adds and you smile a bit, rolling your eyes at students like this one who is now opting to flatter you way too much for your act of kindness.

“Alright, alright. Just get it done and I’m expecting quality work, okay? Class dismissed.”

The whole class begins to gather their things at the cue and you don’t stay there a minute longer after your announcement, exiting the lecture hall to head to the faculty room where you’re certain half of the teaching staff have gone home already. It’s already 8:47 p.m., and all you want to do is head home to get the rest you deserve after an eventful day.

There was a time that having a schedule from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. wasn’t the norm for you. You used to value work life balance so much—it was even a nonnegotiable you used to say in interviews, saying that if you didn’t get enough rest within the week, then the job most likely wasn’t for you. But things have been very different for the past months; you have definitely grown out of that mindset due to the fact that you’re simply in need of another source of income to pay for your monthly rent, utility bills, and now your medication. You’re in a stage of your life wherein you consider working part time as a professor was a blessing rather than a big nuisance.

Making a right turn to where the hallway to the faculty room is, you’re too busy rearranging the papers inside the folder you’re holding to notice a man sitting on the bench placed just beside the entrance. He notices you the second you appear in his line of vision though; he straightens his posture and proceeds on standing up immediately upon seeing you closer, calling your name softly when you failed to look at his direction, too preoccupied with the thought of finally coming home that you’re oblivious that the man trying to catch your attention is Jeon Jungkook.

“____,” he calls again and this time you notice him, your eyes widening instantly.

“Holy shi—” You stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “Jungkook?”

He grins. “Hey, lamb chop.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He laughs, following suit to you who’s already giggling just by his presence alone, outstretching his arms then. “You gonna hug me or what?”

You beam and step forward to embrace him. He returns it without hesitation, muscular arms circling around you and squeezing tightly that it lifts you up from the ground for a quick second. The faint smell of fabric conditioner on his clothes enters your nostrils and you feel like a teenager again, warmth rushing to your face while your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Regardless of how old the both of you are, you think your hopeless crush on the guy will forever live on and constantly transform you into a middle school girl whenever opportunities like these to have him near arise. You’re just happy you’ve trained yourself to be better at hiding it now compared to when you were younger.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in base or wherever it is that you’re designated?” you ask, the first to let go from the hug.

“Actually, I returned from deployment three days ago. I’m on leave for two weeks.”

“Wow. Two weeks, huh?”

“Yep. It’s the longest break I’ve gotten in a while.”

“That’s good. Everybody needs a break from time to time.”

“Says the girl has a day job and a night job.” He points out with a smirk; your heart does a little leap at how handsome he looks doing that. “When the hell did you get into teaching, by the way? I never pegged you to be the kind who can tolerate it. You hate kids.”

“You’ll find yourself tolerating lots of things in this economy.” You snort. “And my students aren’t kids. They’re in college.”

“Yeah, which you graduated from six years ago. Still technically kids.”

“Are you seriously jabbing at my age when you’re two years older than I am?”

He rolls his eyes at that one, an indication that you won the argument. “Anyway,” he starts again and you grin, “I didn’t come here to compare how old we are—”

“You didn’t?”

He sends you a look. Your grin gets even wider.

“I’m here because I was hoping to treat you to dinner.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, not masking the surprise from your voice.

Let’s get the facts straight before we proceed to this conversation.

It isn’t a lie when you say that you and Jungkook are great friends. You have been since you were 7 and your family just moved into the house next to theirs. He was a natural playmate, a companion when you couldn’t tolerate the antics of your older brother, the boy who looked out for you aside from said older brother, and the person you’ve shared significant history with throughout your youth that you can never seem to forget nor disregard.

It’s just that you never deemed that you were great enough friends for him to go out of his way and visit you at your workplace, offering to treat you for dinner. Gestures like that were reserved for your older brother, Seowon, who’s the same age as he is and who you’re sure is considered as his best friend. Compared to them, yours and Jungkook’s dynamic shifted slightly after graduating from college. What once was a really close friendship turned into a casual one, with mostly just teasing, light talks, and the occasional welfare checks at times you hear certain news from the other that’s worth speaking directly about.

At the mention of that, realization dawns on you on why he must be here.

“Jungkook…” You’re trying not to sound mad but you can’t hide the exasperation from your voice. “That’s not the real reason you’re here.”

“Of course, it is. Why else would I be here?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” you ask, not willing to drag this out. “You’re just going to give me another lecture that I definitely don’t need.”

Jungkook frowns, like he’s dismayed that you caught on pretty swiftly.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You pressed.

“He meant well, ____.”

You scowl. To remark that Seowon is unnecessarily nosy and coddling would be an understatement. That man hasn’t left you alone the second he was aware of your condition. Usually, whenever he gets into his ‘big brother tendencies’, his girlfriend Winnie steps in and helps you lay him off your back. However, it’s different this time; no matter how much you reinstill your independence and insist that you’re fine, it’s like you’re talking to a wall.

“What exactly did you hear from him?” you query.

He seems hesitant in answering that. “That you got diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.”

You wince.

“Look,” he steps forward towards you, “I wasn’t going to bring it up unless you did, okay? I’m just here because I’m genuinely worried about you and I want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.” You murmur. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Worry doesn’t vanish magically just because someone says so.”

“Well, it should—because I’m fine.”

“You sure? I heard that you’re struggling to buy insulin among other things you’re having a hard time paying.”

“Fuck. Seowon told you that too? That’s private.”

“My parents know. He just filled me in because he wants you to have as much support as you can get.”

“I don’t need that. I’m an adult. I’ve lived by myself for years. I can fend for myself just fine.”

“It doesn’t look like it from what I’ve been hearing.”

“All you’re hearing is a warped and exaggerated version of the story told by Seowon who won’t listen to a word I say.” You huff. “I’m fine and I’ve been doing everything I can, alright? I’m taking care of myself. I’m going to the doctor whenever I need to. I’m making ends meet, buying treatment for this goddamn disease and regulating my sugar levels all the fucking time. Why do you think I’ve been working two jobs for the past year? It’s because I’m doing everything I can to stay alive.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, he only remains gazing at you.

“If you’re here to offer me money or whatever because of what he said,” you add, already embarrassed that you can’t even look at him anymore, “then I don’t want it.”

“That’s not what I’m here for,” he says.

“Then are you really just here to treat me to dinner?” you question sarcastically.

He laughs and you dare return your eyes at him, catching him peering at you with a fond expression. “Yes. It’s my way of doing a welfare check.”

“Welfare check.” You echo with squinted eyes. “Well, in that case, here I am—alive and healthy.”

“I can see that, and I’m glad.” He smiles. “But I need more than just seeing you. I need a conversation and an apology.”

“An apology?”

“For being the last person to know about your condition.”

“And we’re still talking about that apparently.” You mutter under your breath. “Sorry. I didn’t think that you wanted to know.”

“Of course, I would have wanted to know. It’s you we’re talking about here.”

Something about how he said you causes your lips to twitch as you fight off a smile. This isn’t a good time to dive into your romantic feelings for your childhood crush, but when he’s letting go of lines like that which are sure to have your heart soaring out of your chest, it’s hard to keep on a cool and unfazed facade. You just convince yourself that he sees you as a little sister and that’s why he’s so worried; you should already be past your ‘delulu’ phase at this age to be affected by such statements.

“I didn’t want to add to your worries,” you reason. “You already have your life to think about. Add to the fact that you’re a naval aviator—so you literally have your own life first to think about.”

“I can make space for you.”

Is he flirting? Is this a normal thing to say between friends?

You blink. “Okay, uh, that’s… that’s completely up to you, I guess.”

“I just like knowing those things first hand. It makes me worry less.”

“Got it. Next time I learn I’m dying, I’ll tell you.”

“____,” he says your name in warning, and you know he’s serious.

“Sorry.” You heat up. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass.”

“I promise that’ll be the last time I make a dark joke, Lieutenant.”

Jungkook’s nostrils flare. You prevent yourself from grinning like a fool again in success of getting on his nerves.

“Are you done here? Because I’m hungry and would really like to get going now.” He changes the subject and gestures to the faculty.

“Yeah. I’ll just get my things and then I can get out of here.”

“Great. You’re letting me take you to dinner, right?” 

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Fine.” You deadpan.

This time, he’s the one who’s beaming at you. “I’ll wait for you here and we can go.”

“Okay.”

****

When Jungkook discovered that you had type 1 diabetes through a phone call with Seowon, he spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores of his squadmates and overthinking what’s supposed to happen to you now that you had an autoimmune disease which he was told didn’t have a cure. He was assured that you were okay despite it, that there was medication to treat it, and that you had access to them and have been very careful with your lifestyle due to the diagnosis ever since.

He still couldn’t be put to ease though. As ridiculous as it may sound, he had this overwhelming realization that life truly was short, that you had to make certain decisions all the time because you need to adjust to what the universe is only willing to give you. It was funny coming from a person who risked his life for a living. He thinks that perhaps he never understood the philosophy of the quote ‘time is gold’ until he had a loved one on the same trajectory, always one step closer to possible death.

And so that same night, he decided to file a leave for two weeks, effective immediately after his deployment. 

He wasn’t sure what his game plan was exactly in filing that two-week leave. Was he supposed to barge in your life and force you to let him take care of you? Was he supposed to demand why you ended up having diabetes? Was he supposed to act as a big brother like your actual big brother because he was that worried about you? But if Jungkook was going to be truthful, he already had an idea on what he wanted to do in the back of his head—he just didn’t want to execute it because it was absolutely insane.

Until he heard Seowon suggest it himself when they met up at a bar to share a drink together.

“She would never say yes,” Jungkook said, beyond doubt that you won’t be persuaded that easily with a plan like that.

Seowon made a face. “I know. That girl is so hyper independent—she’d rather die than accept help.” He scoffed. “She needs it though. It’ll help with her medication and she won’t have to pay rent for that shit apartment she’s living in. Plus, she'll actually get the chance to take care of her body if she’s not juggling two jobs to have sufficient income.”

“You’re right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“You’ll do it then?”

He took a sip of his beer. “Yeah. I’d do anything for ____, you know that.”

“Even as crazy as marrying her?”

“Sure.”

Seowon stared at him, narrowing his eyes and morphing his expression into a teasing one. “Are you sure you’re not just considering this because it’s a perfect excuse to marry my sister? I know you like her.”

“I don’t like her.” 

“You’re in love with her.”

“I don’t—” Jungkook began to deny but Seowon was staring him down. “Fuck you, man. Don’t make me some kind of pervert who’s trying to lock her into marriage because he likes her. You’re the one who brought the idea up.”

Seowon laughed out loud. “I know, I just can’t believe you’d agree. It’ll benefit ____, that’s for sure—you, on the other hand? It’s career suicide.”

He shrugged. “I’m okay with the thought that she’ll be okay.”

“Because you love her, man.” Seowon pushed. “Why on earth would you consider this if you weren’t? It’s a fraudulent marriage. You’ll be thrown in the brig and be dishonorably discharged if you get caught.”

“We don’t even know if she’ll agree to this whole thing. You said it yourself, she would never say yes.”

“Yeah, unless maybe you’re the one who tries to persuade her.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to buy her a ring and kneel down before her or something?”

“That can work.”

“What?” Jungkook laughed.

Seowon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how she’s been crushing on you since we were kids.”

He barked out a laugh again. That he knew; it was impossible not to when a lot of friends and cousins kept on teasing you before, especially at instances Jungkook was in the very same vicinity. “We’re not kids anymore and I barely see her though.”

“Still, it ought to count to something. It raises the chances of her agreeing.”

“You’re really cool with me marrying your sister, Won?” Jungkook asked.

Seowon placed down the beer bottle he’s consuming on the counter. “Yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not perfect, but I know you enough to know that you won’t do anything that will purposely hurt her. Besides, if this sham marriage ends up to be a real relationship and then for some reason, you fuck up and decide to break her heart—I’ll easily know what to do, where to find you, and then I’ll do everything I can to fuck you up.”

Jungkook pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle.

“Noted.”

****

It’s always been a big wonder to you how no matter how long it’s been since you saw each other, it still feels like no time has passed between you and Jungkook. You think that’s why you can never get over him; he always had this comforting and familiar aura that you appreciate—something that you sought for in every other person that you liked. Maybe it was impractical, maybe it was the reason you can never hold a relationship for more than two years, but unless you gain the courage to confront your feelings and tell Jungkook about it, then you constantly dispel any doubts you might have whether this was good for you or not.

You don’t want to lose him. Admitting that you harbored romantic feelings for him would just make it awkward for everyone: your brother, your family, and then his family. You don’t think you can ever trade his smile, the sound of his laughter, and all the good things about him for anything in the world. 

“Are you dating anyone?” he asks.

You choke on your drink, having just poured yourself and Jungkook a glass of water after the server arrived with the pitcher. You’re in a Japanese restaurant near the university, aware that the cuisine was a favorite for the both of you hence why it’s what you recommended when he asked where you wanted to dine. The place is packed with people from the workforce and students; you’re thankful that you don’t see any of your students within the mix.

“We’re getting straight to it, huh?” you say.

Jungkook smirks. “I’m just making sure I’m not upsetting a boyfriend by meeting you tonight.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not upsetting anyone.”

He nods in understanding. You don’t want to add more meaning to his actions for the evening but he seems glad about the information.

“How about you?” you ask back. “Are you dating anyone?”

The ends of his mouth lift a bit upwards. “Nope.”

“Why? You don’t have the time for it?”

“Precisely.”

“It must be really hard dating when you’re in the Navy then.”

“Kinda. We’re away a lot and stationed in different places most of the time. It can get really dangerous for us too and people don’t like the stress that comes with that.”

 You bob. “Does it get lonely?”

“Sometimes, but when you’re on duty, you don’t get to think about those things.” He chuckles. “Besides, I don’t know if this sounds fucked up or not—but it can get exciting. Flying a plane can be fun, you know. Not to mention that it helps when you’re surrounded by good men in your squadron.”

“You’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

“And you’ve always been a scaredy-cat.”

You scoff at the declaration. “No, I’m not.”

“Remember when Seowon and I forced you to ride that ship in the amusement park that sways left to right and as it goes on it falls from a higher standpoint?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But you do, and Jungkook knows you do, it’s evident by how your expression is trying to feign innocence. That memory is your villain origin story; the whole pretext of why you refuse to ever visit the amusement park or ride an exhilarating ride again. Yet you can’t help but recall that it’s one of the rare instances wherein you got to hold Jungkook’s hand when you two were younger, as his hand was the one you were clinging for dear life when it happened while the other was too busy slapping Seowon in irritation.

He snickers, appearing like he’s replaying the scene in his head. “We should do that again with Seowon during my break.”

“Hell no.”

“I thought you weren’t a scaredy-cat?” He challenges.

“I’m not.” You give him a kittenish glare. “But I am busy. I have to send the final manuscript of this book I’m editing to the chief editor next week and it’s about to be finals week for my students as well.”

He fakes a shiver. “I don’t know how you can do two jobs like that, ____. Truly.”

“You work as a naval aviator so I’d say we’re pretty even.”

The waiter arrives with your orders not long after, and you and Jungkook carry on with your conversation, jumping from topic to topic without difficulty. You’re not certain when was the last time you saw each other like this to have so much to talk about—was it last Christmas? Or was it more recent or longer than that? Nevertheless, it feels good and you find yourself blushing multiple times throughout the night, whether it’s because of how his words can have two meanings or how his eyes are staring at you so intensely whenever you’re the one who’s talking.

You like the undivided attention, the back and forth that’s occurring as you discourse, the subtle touches one of you does when something funny arises, how your knees are touching underneath the table. You wonder what’s so different with this encounter that the energy feels so bizarre in a good way? As far as you’re concerned, you’re positive that you’re acting like you always have in his presence—lively, smiley, sarcastic—and aside from the little touches of flirting here and there, Jungkook’s acting like he always has too.

When dinner was done, Jungkook offered to drive you home. You obliged, no longer in the mood to annoy him for you were tired to make the effort. Before stepping outside the restaurant however, you excused yourself to the restroom first, checking your blood sugar with the glucose meter you brought along wherever you went. It’s a hassle but it’s necessary, largely because you’re still in the middle of saving up for the insulin pump that would help you regulate your sugar levels easier.

After administering yourself with the insulin injection you have, you spend a few more seconds inside the enclosed room. You should be past the point of feeling sorry for yourself, but it’s times like this wherein you’re with a loved one that the dejection hits and you wish that you’re in a better predicament than you are right now. You’re close to being broke, you’re overworked, you’re somehow fatigued all the fucking time—those factors aren’t soothing your worries at all. It’s a miracle how you manage to keep an optimistic mind amidst everything.

“Ready to go?” Jungkook smiles at you once you’re back at the table and you nod, clutching your bag tighter against your body and following him to his car.

He drives you to your place, turning the radio on, and letting it play while the both of you sit in silence. You’re both tired and you almost even sleep during the ride. It’s only when Jungkook gently shakes you awake that you realize that you’ve arrived in front of your apartment building.

“I’ll walk you up,” he insists as you’re unbuckling the seatbelt. 

“That’s no need, Kook.”

“Of course, it is,” he says. “I’ll walk you up. That’s nonnegotiable.”

So, you allow him.

It takes five minutes tops to reach the door leading to your apartment. As you rummage through your bag to grab your keys, Jungkook patiently stands there, occasionally glancing around the hallway and even smiling when the old lady that resided in the same floor got out of her room to throw out the trash. He receives a smile in return which you notice and grin fondly at.

“Well, this is me.” You turn to him, done unlocking your door. “I’d invite you inside but you should probably get going. It’s quite a long drive back home.”

“Yeah.” He breathes out a chuckle. “Hey, tonight was fun. It made me realize how I missed you.”

Your brain temporarily malfunctions; you force yourself to recover quickly. “Me too. I had fun tonight. Maybe we should do this again whenever you’re on a break.”

“Agreed.”

You flash him a smile. “You can go now. Goodnight.”

Jungkook nods, however doesn’t move a muscle. He’s looking at you, like really looking at you, his eyes moving from one feature to another, as if he’s memorizing your face or having a hard time arranging the words he wants to say. You guess it’s the latter, familiar with a tongue-tied Jungkook that it takes you a few good seconds before you’re demanding why he’s impersonating a mannequin.

“There’s something I want to say,” that’s what he utters and you almost snort due to your assumption being right.

“Okay…” The smile is still on your lips. “What is it?”

“Promise me you won’t get mad first.”

“Well, if you’re making me promise that then it’s probably worth being mad about.”

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

“That’s not convincing at all.”

“It’s just…” He begins and trails, biting his lower lip, “it’s… it’s why I went here. Why I went here to see and meet you, I mean.”

You unconsciously recoil at the revelation. It’s certainly a rookie mistake to believe that there was no ulterior motive in Jungkook meeting you today. You just didn’t reckon you’d actually be truly disappointed at that—at the idea that he just didn’t randomly decide to visit and be with you earlier until now.

You draw a long breath. “Well, I knew you weren’t just feeling generous and wanted to treat me to dinner out of nowhere.”

There’s a pause and then he resumes. “Just—before I say it, you have to hear me out, okay? You have to let me explain before you berate me.”

“I can’t promise that either.”

“You have to.”

“Why do I have to?”

“Because what I’m about to say is for your own sake. You know I always have your best interest at heart, don’t you?”

You wrinkle your forehead in further confusion. “Can you just get on with it? The vagueness is making me more annoyed.”

“I just don’t want you to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand what?”

“What I—and Seowon—genuinely think is the best option.”

“Oh, and Seowon is in on this too?” You bellow. “Have you and Seowon just been conspiring behind my back the whole time?”

“Calm down.” Jungkook puts his hands on your shoulders, a chuckle inevitably escaping him. “I’m sorry for dragging it out. You should know I’m high key afraid of you, that’s why.”

“You should be.” You grumble.

Another chuckle, but he’s back to appearing anxious. You want to shout that this isn’t healthy, that you’re close to giving him a real reason to be afraid of you—yet once he blurts the confession out, you’re speechless, gawking at him and staggering backwards in complete shock. Perhaps you would have bolted as far away from him as possible if not for his solid grasp.

“What?” You hiss.

He swallows hard.

“I want you to marry me, ____.”

You don’t bolt away running. You shake off his hold on you though, and before he gets another word in, you’re hastily rushing inside your apartment and slamming the door to his face.

****

Jungkook was your first kiss.

It happened in a game of truth and dare. You were at a party of a mutual friend and when the bottle miserably pointed in Jungkook’s direction, the person who was tasked to think of his dare when it was his pick said that he dared him to do 7 minutes in heaven with you. 

He profusely refused at first, especially since Seowon was in the same party, but everybody began booing and next thing you know, Jungkook was agreeing as long as it was fine with you. When you nodded to make your consent apparent, your friends were quick to shove you both in the closet, some of them pulling Seowon back who was complaining how it wasn’t right to bully you into doing 7 minutes in heaven with Jungkook. They calmed him down once they bullied him into agreeing too.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Jungkook told you in the darkness, his breath fawning over your face. “You don’t have to feel pressured. It’s just a stupid game.”

You blushed.

Secretly, you were hoping that he’d kiss you or touch you. Who didn’t want to do anything with their crush at the age of 15? A lot can happen in 7 minutes. You were aware that sometimes people made out, went as far as third base, and although you didn’t want to go that far with Jungkook, you wanted something to happen while you were stuck in this small closet with him. There weren’t a lot of instances that put both of you in this kind of situation; you wished that you were brave enough to ask him to kiss you or do the first move yourself.

5 minutes in, Jungkook turned towards you.

“Is it true that Taehyung kissed you last week?”

You whipped your head so fast that you might have given yourself whiplash. “That’s—that’s not true. Where did you hear that?”

“During homeroom. Some girls were talking about it.”

Your cheeks burned. “Oh.”

“So, it’s not true?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” You laughed weakly.

It was his turn to seem stunned. “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?”

You shook your head again, then realized he might not see you doing so. “Not yet.”

“Want me to change that?” he asked, grinning.

He said that with a boyish grin and teasing tone, but you sucked at social cues (plus, you really couldn’t see shit that much) that you started nodding.

“Okay,” you told him.

“Huh?”

“You can kiss me.”

“Oh, oh, shit—I didn’t—” He was blabbering, about to take back what he offered. “I mean, I was just joking but—”

You widen your eyes. “You were? Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought you were—”

“No, it was my fault. That was a little out of line for me. I’m sorry.” He was laughing and you felt like burying yourself 6 feet under. “It was a stupid thing to say. But if you want me to kiss you, it’s cool.”

“It is?” Hope sparked within you.

“Yeah. It’ll just be a peck anyway.” You can tell he was smiling through his voice. “Just don’t tell Seowon because he might punch me in the face for kissing his sister.”

You cackled. “Deal.”

56 seconds before the 7 minutes were up, Jungkook leaned down to match your level and placed his lips on yours. 

****

You’re seething with rage, the embodiment of Godzilla, channeling the God of War, Ares, in your body; you harshly press Seowon’s number on your phone to call him and he answers after three rings.

“What’s up?”

“I will fucking murder you,” you snarl.

A beat. You hear shuffling. Then he answers, “you already talked with Jungkook?”

The nonchalance and calmness in his voice drives you to be more frustrated than you already are. “Yes, I have! What is wrong with you? Why would you plant that idea on his head?” You yell, not caring that your walls are thin and that your voice can probably be heard by the couple that lived next door. You’re feeling a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and every negative emotion that exists at the moment. You’re comparable to a bull who just saw the color red.

“____, it won’t be a big deal if you don’t make it to be.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Did you even let Jungkook explain?”

“I don’t need him to spell everything out. I know why he’s asking me to marry him.”

“Then you know too that it’d be good for you.”

“Marrying him won’t be good for me.”

“Why not?”

“It just won’t!”

“You’ll get health insurance benefits that you don’t get with your current jobs. You can pay less rent once you move in at Jungkook’s place—there’s a huge chance he won’t even let you pay him while you stay there too. He’s away most of the time anyway, so staying there wouldn’t be a problem. Plus, you can start studying for a masters degree like you’ve always wanted.”

You groan. “Not like this. This is crazy.”

“The both of you can divorce once you’ve saved up a little. It really isn’t that complicated.”

“It’s a sham marriage!”

“It’s a sham marriage with Jungkook.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“Are you sure? Your grade school diary might disagree.”

“Oh my God, that’s fucking low of you to bring that up. You just gave me another reason to hate you.” You stomp around the living room, acting like a teenager because of your brother’s behavior. This isn’t the first time he revealed that he’s read your diary before; that doesn’t mean it’s less infuriating to be reminded that he has. “I swear, you better fucking sleeping with one eye open tonight. I’m choking you to death.”

Seowon laughs out loud. “Just marry him. He’s surprisingly amicable with the idea.”

“That’s because you’re pressuring him! I bet you and Mom devised this entire thing together.”

“Mom doesn’t know. To be fair, she’d probably have the same reaction as you. It’s all me and Jungkook.”

“Wow. You have two brains and yet none of you thought this was goddamn stupid?”

“It’s not stupid. It’s genius if you come to think of it,” he says. “Jungkook just wants to help you, dude. He wants to make sure you’ll be okay and all that shit. You’re the reason he filed for a two-week leave, did he tell you?”

Your heart does that jumping thing again. “No.”

“Well, he did. He’s on a break for two weeks because he wants to convince you to marry him and actually marry you within that time frame.”

“This is nuts.” You sigh, finally flopping down the sofa and rubbing your face with your free hand. “The both of you are nuts. How are you okay with this?”

“It’s Jungkook. I trust him. Don’t you?”

“Of course, I do, I just—” you cut yourself off and frown, “I just feel like it’s unfair for him. I’m marrying him because of military spouse benefits and what does he get?”

There’s a long pause, and you almost check your phone to see whether Seowon has already hung up on you or not.

“It’s better that Jungkook answers that question,” he tells you finally.

“Why? You can’t answer it on behalf of him?”

“Something like that.” You can imagine him shrugging. “All I know is that he’s genuinely concerned about your health and your financial status right now. So, just think about it, okay?”

“God, fuck it, fine. I’ll think about it.” You grimace.

You hang up and glance at the door.

You don’t think the conversation you just had with Seowon took that much time. The initial rush you had upon having your longtime crush propose to you is wearing off and you’re realizing that it was a dick move to literally slam the door right in Jungkook’s face earlier, leading you to stand up from your seat and look through the peephole to check if he’s still there.

He isn’t, which you sigh in relief at.

As you lean against the door and regulate your breathing, you think how funny it is that Seowon is right about one thing—and that was grade school you would have been delighted at the thought of getting married to Jungkook. He’s your dream guy; your parents loved him, his parents loved you, the both of you got along very well, and his personality and looks are everything that you’re looking for in a partner. It sucks that you live in a world where the only reason he wants to marry you is because he’s afraid you’ll die because of self-neglect. 

Your phone pings and you unlock the screen to look at the message that flashes on it.

Jungkook: hey, seowon just messaged me to say that you two already talked Jungkook: i’m sorry for jumping on you with a topic like that… Jungkook: i’m shit at confrontation lol Jungkook: also it’s the first time i’m proposing so give me some slack

You scoff at his audacity to joke about it this soon.

You: it’s okay You: i’m sorry too for what i did You: the answer is no btw

Jungkook: already??? Jungkook: let’s talk about it first

You: no need You: i don’t want to marry you

Jungkook: oof that’s harsh

You: sorry not sorry?

He doesn’t respond and you think you’re safe. Maybe Jungkook does take no for an answer and you’re confused because you’re a little disappointed that he’s not falling on his knees, begging you to marry him like what your imagination is supplying you.

However, after you took a shower and went to check your phone again, you see that Jungkook messaged you a few minutes ago in response to your last message.

Jungkook: give me 10 days and i’ll change your mind

You have the urge to go take a shower again because of how hot your body is feeling at the statement.

You: hate to break it to you but you’re not matthew mcconaughey

Jungkook: 🤣🤣🤣

****

It’s not part of Jungkook’s branding to chase a woman. Typically, women chase him; they chase him in every city and country that he gets stationed in, flirting with him and hoping that they’ll get the chance to take him home for the night for a mindblowing one-night stand. They never succeed though, for despite their pretty faces and sultry gestures, Jungkook only smiles and declines every offer, saying that he had a girl waiting back home that he loved very much.

He used to think that he only used that as an excuse because he’s not the type to hook up with every attractive girl he meets. There are times when he succumbs, when he gives into the temptation of a little fun, especially after a life threatening or highly stressful mission—but most of the time, he thinks he declines and use that pronouncement of his because his mind reverts him to the idea of you, to what would happen if he just gained the balls to ask you out.

Evidently, although asking you out and asking you to marry him are two completely different things, he’s a bit afraid that your answer will always be a hard no. It’s what you’ve been literally spelling out to him since the day he presented the idea, regardless of how he’s trying his best in swooning you or explaining how this is the perfect plan to help you gain an upper hand with your diagnosis.

“I’ll file a restraining order against you, I’m serious,” you say to him when he appears yet again outside the faculty room, waiting for you to gather your things and head home. You’re wearing a white button up shirt and pinstripe wide leg trousers, an outfit combination that he ogles at before he goes down to business.

“You wouldn’t.” He glares at you. He gestures for you to let him take your backpack, and despite what you said, you let him. “Also, what the fuck is in this thing? You’ll break your back if you keep using this.” He swings your backpack on one shoulder.

You laugh. “My laptop, its charger, a couple of notebooks, books, pens, then the outputs of my students.”

“Aren’t they supposed to submit virtually? What happened to Google Classroom?”

“I still use it, but sometimes I like to have their work printed out so I can write the comments better. How do you know Google Classroom?”

“I have a squadronmate whose kid uses it for class.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding.

You two continue walking forward.

This has been your program for the past few days. Jungkook goes to the university you work at, he’ll wait outside, you’ll threaten him with something ridiculous, he’ll take your bag, he’ll offer to take you to dinner, you’ll decline, and then he’ll drive you home anyways. Before that routine ends, he’ll lean on your door frame and give you his best puppy eyes, asking you to marry him for the sake of your welfare, and you’ll scowl at him, insisting that you don’t need his help to survive.

“Dinner?” he asks, right on schedule.

You glance at him. “No. I want to go home and sleep for 12 hours.”

“Busy day?”

“Yep.”

“You know, if you marry me, you won’t have to work two jobs and overexert yourself.”

He doesn’t need to turn to you to know that you’re giving him a dirty look. “I won’t marry you, Jungkook.”

“Why not?”

“Because marriage doesn’t work that way.”

“It does. Billionaires do it all the time. The mafia does it too. It’s always been some kind of transaction.”

“Well, if I marry you, what do you get?”

“The assurance you’re taken care of.”

“That’s cheesy.”

You share a laugh and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says. “I’ll be fine as long as you are.”

He waits for you to quip back a reply, flickering his eyes to you when it takes longer than usual. Instead of the sneer he’s expecting, you appear to be flustered, an expression that is very recognizable for him who’s known you since forever—an expression that makes it too obvious for Jungkook that the crush you had on him that he thought has been long gone was still there. He’s been seeing it a lot lately, particularly when he’s uttering lines that sound flirtatious on purpose; he’s positive that you’ll threaten to kill him when you discover that he basks on the fact that he can still make you all flustered and cute, which encourages him to do and say anything that would elicit a reaction from you. Was it unethical to seduce you into marrying him? He might have to rethink that part too.

Reaching the parking lot, he unlocks the doors to his vehicle and places your bag inside the backseat. He watches you walk around the car, about to go to the passenger’s side, but then you wobble a bit and his attempt to get inside is instantly forgotten.

“Hey,” he strides to where you are, gazing at you as you now hold onto the hood, “you alright?”

You raise your chin up. “Kook, can you get my bag?”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s swinging the door again and getting your bag from the other end of the backseat while you get on the passenger’s seat, keeping the door wide and placing your legs outside, your feet planted on the concrete.

“What do you need?” he asks, crouching in front of you and zipping the bag open.

“Glucometer.”

He halts. “What does that look like?”

“It’s in the yellow bag. There.” You point at it right when he rummages through a certain part.

He brings it out and you take it from his grasp. Your movements are sluggish but he can discern that you’re doing your best not to be too slow; he’d present to help but he knows that he might prolong what you’re doing due to his cluelessness, so he just observes, noting how you’re pricking your finger with a device and then pressing it lightly to the glucometer which shows that your blood sugar is low.

“Apple juice,” you mutter to him and he finds it faster than the last one.

You grab the juice pouch from his grasp, prying the straw attached on the back, pushing its end for it to pop out of its plastic cover—then your hand shakes, preventing you from continuing and punching in the straw properly.

“Let me do it,” he says.

You don’t fight him, you just slump against the seat as Jungkook picks up from where you left, and the moment he does the job and guides the straw to your awaiting lips, a long exhale through your nose escapes you.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers. He didn’t notice that he was holding his breath the entire duration of the scene.

Another sigh. “Better.”

“Does this happen a lot?”

You seem to hesitate. “Not a lot. Just when life gets a bit too hectic.”

“____—”

“Just take me home.” You don’t give him the chance to lecture you. “Please, Jungkook.”

Defeated, he nods. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

He helps you position yourself properly on the passenger’s seat. “But we’re talking about this at your place.”

Before you can protest, he closes the door.

****

Lee Hyunwoo was the name of the guy that you brought home for Christmas Eve eight years ago. It was the first time that you did, and Jungkook hated how Hyunwoo was considerably handsome, intelligent, and kind—the exact kind of person he always imagined you deserved.

In the short time Hyunwoo spent with theirs and your family that night, everybody loved him and was already inviting him to the next gathering, all the while Jungkook avoided him at every cost, puzzled by this strong dislike he was feeling for your guest. He was annoyed at the manner in which Hyunwoo had an arm around your waist the entire evening, how you grinned up to him, eyes sparkling and all that shit. Hell, you used to look at him like that.

“Honey, can you get the mango float we have in our freezer?” Jungkook heard your mother tell you, and without thinking, he stood up from his chair and made a beeline to where you were, telling you he’d accompany you to your house.

“That’s fine,” you told him. “It’s literally next door.”

“Yeah, but it might be heavy.”

“It’s not.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and agreed then, excusing yourself from Hyunwoo who was in an engaged conversation with Seowon. The pair were geeking out because of their mutual love for the MCU and the next film slated to be released the following year.

Upon arriving at your home, you dashed to the kitchen with Jungkook trudging behind you. He wasn’t sure what his next course of action should be now; all he wanted was some alone time with you, away from the presence of that college boyfriend of yours, but now that he had that, he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to say or do. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling a bit jealous—was it because of that saying? Wherein people are bound to want what they can’t have? Or was it that you only appreciate what you had when you’ve already lost it?

“How long have you and Hyunwoo been dating?” he asked, leaning against the counter as you pulled your freezer open.

“Four months, I think.”

“Four months? And you already brought him home?”

You snorted at his tone. “His family is in another country so I thought it’d be nice to invite him.”

“You must really like him then.”

“Yeah, but I’m not in love with him or anything.” You placed the mango float on the space beside Jungkook on the counter. “He’s nice, and he likes me too.”

“Does he treat you well?”

You flashed your eyes at him, amusement dancing in them. “What’s with that question?”

“What’s with it?”

“Nothing, it’s just that…” you trailed, a smirk etched on your face. “Wait a minute, are you… you can’t possibly—” Jungkook was widening his eyes, ready to deny your accusation once you questioned whether he was jealous of Hyunwoo or not— “are you pulling an overprotective brother skit on me, Kook?��

Fuck, thank God, he thought.

“I prefer ‘overprotective friend skit’,” he said.

“That doesn’t have a nice ring to it.”

“But I’m not your brother.”

“You don’t have to be, I’m just saying that you and Seowon have been acting similar since Hyunwoo and I arrived.”

“Nonsense. Seowon likes him.”

“Oh, so you don’t?”

He pressed his lips into a tight line.

“Did you just admit that you don’t like Hyunwoo?” you asked, chuckling. He was grateful that you didn’t seem to be offended by it.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him.”

“Instead you implied it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You kinda did.”

He heard you laugh and he couldn’t help but allow himself to laugh as well.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Maybe I’m just not used to you dating anyone. You are chronically single.”

“Can’t say you’re wrong.” You snorted and picked up from the mango float, marching back to his house and gesturing for him to follow you.

He did, no words spoken between the both of you once more. Though when you were entering their place again, with Jungkook holding the door open for you, he mentioned something he never reckoned he’d have the guts to mention out loud.

“When you open my gift,” he began, “don’t do it in front of Hyunwoo, okay?”

“Why not?” You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, intrigued by his warning.

“He might not like it. You’ll see.”

That night, at the comfort of your bedroom, Hyunwoo nowhere near but instead sleeping at the coach downstairs in your living room, you opened Jungkook’s gift and saw that it was a necklace with your birth flower as its pendant.

You smiled, rolling your eyes to yourself, and slept with that giddy look never leaving your face.

****

“Not so fast,” Jungkook grunts.

Did he think that you were going to be less difficult since he was helpful earlier? Yeah, he did. He likes to think that if it wasn’t for him, you would have taken longer in feeding yourself with apple juice, so he at least wanted a thank you in the form of your willingness to have an adult conversation with him tonight. However, that clearly isn’t the case because when he walked you up to your apartment like he always did, you’re attempting to lock him out, shutting the door as fast as you can once you’re inside, thus trying to prevent him from initiating that talk he wanted the two of you to have.

“Seriously?” He successfully pries the door open and you scowl at him.

“Jungkook—”

“No, you don’t get to reason your way out of this. I’m done hearing you out. It’s your turn to listen to me.” He steps inside your apartment.

You groan, striding to the sofa and throwing your bag there. “You can’t force me to marry you.”

“Is marrying me so fucking bad that you can’t get over it for health insurance benefits that can really help you?” He demands, infuriated. 

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

“You can get arrested!” you exclaim. “And so can I! Does that not freak you out?”

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“I’m not willing to take the risk.”

“I’m not willing to see you die.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Who the fuck said anything about dying? I’m not dying.”

“You almost passed out on me. You almost—”

“It’s an error on my part, I admit.” You sigh. “When I get busy and preoccupied, sometimes I forget to check my sugar levels regularly throughout the day. I’m sorry.”

“And you expect to be convinced that you have everything handled?”

“God, I’m not a child. Stop treating me like I can’t do shit for myself.”

“Please, ___,” he approaches you with the most pleading expression he can muster, and he watches as your hard expression crumbles, “just accept my help. It’s really not a big deal—you won’t even see me often, so keeping up with the whole marriage ploy wouldn’t be difficult. We’ll divorce in two years, we can pretend we never got married after that.”

“You just don’t get it, don’t you?”

“What do I not get? If you think I don’t understand something, then explain it to me—”

“I can’t marry you,” you say. You do so like it’s final, like there’s no point in arguing with you because he can never change your stand on this. As he’s pleading with his eyes to urge you to agree, you’re communicating with your eyes in a similar way that’s wishing he would just drop this. “It’s wrong.”

His eyebrows furrow. “This isn’t the time to go on your high horse and decide what’s wrong and what’s not. It’s a fraudulent marriage—of course, it’ll be wrong to some degree.”

“No, I mean…” You turn away from him, rubbing your face in exhaustion. “It’d be wrong of me to marry you. I’m taking advantage of you if I do, and I don’t like that.”

Jungkook shakes his head, frustration worsening at the childlike excuse. Surely, you weren’t that naive, were you? “You’re not. I’m not doing this against my own will. Besides, we get extra pay just for being married. If it makes you feel better, I won’t split it with you.”

“That won’t make me feel better.”

“Then what will?”

You flop down on the coach and lean back, closing your eyes. He knows he’s being a pain in the ass but he can’t just stand here and do nothing. He thinks he’s already come too far in convincing you, he isn’t going to back out now. Every single day spent together, he can feel you warming up to the idea of marrying him for health insurance. Your connection and entirety of your relationship has been off the charts recently that it’ll be harder for him not to be assured that before he leaves for his job, you’ll be taken care off.

Jungkook goes to the spot beside you, sitting down. Your knees bump together, he keeps on gazing at you, waiting for you to focus on him; a minute passes and his gaze moves to your hand that’s laying on the small space between you.

Without overthinking, he stretches out and clasps it, allowing his fingers to play with yours that finally captures your attention. The moment he glances up, he sees that you’re staring at him and he doesn’t let go, he even smiles, a quiet promise that he’s always willing to listen to whatever you want to tell him.

You hesitantly smile back. “You know,” your eyes train back to your intertwined fingers, Jungkook reveling in the warmth of your skin, gaining more confidence in acting out his feelings, “there was a time wherein I would have said yes immediately if you asked me to marry you.”

He smirks, can’t deny how hearing that inflates his ego a bit although this route in the conversation isn’t where he expected to go. “What changed?”

“For one, I grew up.”

“Ouch.”

You laugh. Then you stay quiet for a while before speaking. “Can I confess something?”

That piques his interest. “Anything.”

“But you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

“That’s impossible.” He teases. “What is it?”

You stall, readjusting your position so that you can directly face him. Jungkook doesn’t let go of your hand, he keeps it in his grasp, his thumb rubbing along the expanse of your knuckles.

“I like you, Jungkook. I really really do,” you finally say and he blinks, startled.

It shouldn’t surprise him, considering that it’s been long established that he knew of your crush already, though he doesn’t seem to have anticipated for you to boldly admit it when all these years, it’s only been some kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you downright acknowledged.

You continue speaking. “In fact, I like you so much that maybe it developed into love at some point—I’m not sure. I’m at this stage of no longer being afraid of what I feel, I think? Most of the time, I just let it occur like it’s something so natural. Like it’s a feeling that I can never get away from? Like whatever I do, there’s no way to shake you.” You chuckle half-heartedly. “Though never in a million years would I have thought that I’d confess all of this. What for anyway? I don’t want you to be burdened with what my teenage heart couldn’t rub out.”

His mind is racing; hundred thoughts, hundred scenarios, hundred experiences he’s spent with you since the day you met. Jungkook never realized how much he needed you to say that you liked him—that maybe you even loved him—until he heard it from your very mouth that you did, causing every inhibition and doubt he had to vanish. Now, he only wants to engulf you in an embrace and shout Yes, I feel the same way! Sorry for being a fucking corward and not doing this first!

He would have done all of that in a flash if it didn’t appear that you still had something to say. Based on your rather constipated posture and the hand he’s holding that’s becoming clammy, he discerns that you’re just in the first part of what you wanted to admit.

“Actually, that’s also why I can’t let myself marry you,” you say. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know… it feels really icky somehow. I feel like I’m holding you hostage, or that I’m tricking you because of an ulterior motive, or that I’m defying the laws of the universe by having the chance to marry you. I’m not sure. I just know that I don’t want to marry you if it means I’ll only get to do so because you think you’re doing me a huge favor. I don’t want to be your charity case, Kook—I deserve to be more than that, you know? I’m not traditional or whatever but if it’s not for love, I’m not keen on getting married.” You abruptly pull away from his clutch, embarrassment washing on your features by what you stated. “Plus, two years might not be that long but what happens when you meet someone and you like her? How can you explain that you’re only married to me because I need it for my medication? It’ll just be unnecessarily messy. I don’t want to hold you back from those kinds of things. I don’t want to be a hindrance.”

That’s his cue. That’s when he knows he’s supposed to kiss you and take your breath away, to admit that he’s certain that he has loved you since that one time when he was in the Naval Academy and although the training was hard as fuck, the thought of you gave him strength and he didn’t want to see anyone as much as he wanted to see you after—that when you and Seowon visited him, that familiar urge to have you alone was all he felt the entire time, solidifying the idea that perhaps he didn’t just see you as a friend.

“You’re unbelievably dense, ___,” he murmurs, smirking at the play of events, and you glance at him, expression showing disbelief that he’s somehow treating this matter lightly.

“What?”

“Do you honestly think I go around and offer marriage to every woman out there who can benefit from being a military spouse? Do you think I’m that generous? I’m not. I wouldn’t ask anyone to marry me for the same reason if they weren’t important to me—or if I didn’t like them. I’m not that much of a saint,” he adds. “I mean, I’m taking a two-week break to convince you to marry me. I’m spending time with you every single day. I’m driving for almost an hour and a half, enduring the traffic to get from my apartment to the university you work in to do that—and you think this is because I want to be charitable?”

Silence. Your forehead wrinkles. He thinks you’re still not getting the point.

“I’m in love with you, ____,” Jungkook says.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You’re opening your mouth, then closing it, then opening it again, then pressing it into a thin line. He thinks you look cute, being taken aback like this, and he’s wishing that he’s done this sooner so that the last five days of him chasing you around like a lost puppy was spent with talking more about what’s possibly waiting for yours and his relationship next.

“Are you serious?” you ask after what seems like forever. “Or are you just saying that because you’re that desperate to have me on board with the whole fraudulent marriage thing?”

“God—” He’s inching closer to you now, laughing, watching your lips twitch at his reaction— “I’m convinced that you were born into this earth to drive me fucking crazy.”

And just like that, he no longer restrains himself from kissing you.

It takes you a few good seconds before you will yourself to move. You can’t seem to process the reality of Jungkook admitting that he was in love with you and then taking the liberty to plant his lips on yours. You’re not complaining, of course, but you are a bit overwhelmed that it literally makes you freeze, unaware of what you’re supposed to do now that your fantasies are coming into life.

However, once you feel him angle his head to the side, doing so to deepen the kiss, your reflexes kick in and you’re kissing him back, encircling your arms around his neck and leaning towards him, Jungkook sighing in what appears to be relief. He grips your hips to support you as you try to straddle him, but your movements are so clumsy that you end up sprawling against his chest instead, perched on a leg of his that provides pleasure on the spot you need him the most. He chuckles at your lack of gracefulness, gliding his lips to your cheek and down to your jaw, nipping.

“This okay?” he whispers with a palm drifting to your bottom.

You nod and Jungkook’s mouth is back on yours in an instant. He squeezes your ass, takes his time in fondling with it, cheekily slapping whenever you get brave yourself and push your tongue past his lips, before he skims his hand lower to your thigh and signals for you to mount him. Upon being properly sat on his lap, you get an immediate feel of his hard length through his jeans, prompting your imagination to run wild and induce the filthiest things he can do to you if neither of you stops.

“Holy shit,” he curses, your kisses roaming to the base of his throat where you lap and suck.

It becomes a dirty pattern for a while. The both of you will take a brief pause from making out to remove a piece of clothing or kiss every other exposed skin there is: the cheek, the jaw, the neck, the collarbones, the shoulders. Then one of you hauls the other back for another passionate kiss, hands skating everywhere on your bodies, sounds of arousal echoing inside the room; you’re starting to get lightheaded but you’re positive it’s not because of your sugar levels running low.

“I hate that it took us so long to get to this point,” he mutters.

You grin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m the man—I should have confessed long ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. ‘Was afraid to lose you, I guess.” He draws his head back and admires your blissed out expression. “But then when Seowon told me you had diabetes, I panicked and thought that I might lose you either way.”

You go back to making out, Jungkook guiding your hips in grinding on his clothed length. It’s addictive—the intimate feel of him, how he’s not shy in making sure you know how much he’s craving to be as close to you as you are to him. You think you can spend the whole night just doing this and be okay with it.

“Fuck, Kook,” you groan against his mouth, a hand descending to his stomach and to his manhood, “you’re so… so fuckin’ hard.”

You’re palming him now, tracing the erection evident under his boxers.

He lets out a grunt. “Yeah, baby, I know.”

“Do you… do you want me—” You’re breathless, not able to continue whatever it is that you want to say.

He understands you just fine though. “No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do anything.”

You’re not sure what Jungkook means by that. How are you supposed to do nothing when you want to do everything to him? You soon comprehend what he means when he guides you to lay down on the sofa, when his lips skim lower and lower, passing your breasts, giving them the attention they deserve, until he goes lower than that and discards your underwear, kissing you in between your legs.

It’s like he’s releasing all the pent up emotions he’s been keeping all these years. His tongue and fingers are relentless, his voice is telling you that he’s eager to coax an orgasm out of you, and as he lifts himself up to return to his previous position, face hovering yours, you’re positive that he’ll get everything he wants because without a doubt you’ll give him everything he wants from you too. Hell, if he uses this opportunity to ask you to marry him again, you might answer yes straight away, no longer bearing in mind the worries you expressed to him earlier.

Although did that even matter anymore? Jungkook said he loved you. He said you drove him crazy. You never thought you’d come to see the day he’d utter those words but here you are. The man of your dreams is kissing you, pleasing you, and looking damn enthusiastic as he does all of that.

“Last chance to stop me,” Jungkook teases. His eyes are glassy and you can feel his cock nudging on your thigh.

You giggle, bringing his head closer to press another long kiss on those pink and plump lips of his. “Please never stop.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“I’m going to take you up on that.”

“Please do.”

After this night, you’re certain that you’ll never allow yourself to be with another man aside from Jungkook. At the back of your head, you always thought that you were his, regardless if that wasn’t true or that there was no real relationship to prove that—however, at this moment, as he thrusts in and out languidly, you unquestionably know that you are. You belong to him now and he belongs to you; he lets you know through his love-filled gaze, his passionate kisses, and the manner wherein he moans your name.

“I love you,” he says, like he’s still in deep longing for your touch and affection.

You hum, tangling your fingers through the strands of his hair. “I love you, Kook.” You stare at his eyes. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t.”

A boyish grin erupts on his features.

Time passes by quickly. In a few more of his kisses, of the intoxicating slam of his hips, of his seductive whimpers, you’re coming beneath him, Jungkook pulling out and jerking his length until he too comes, his seed landing on the base of your tummy. You have the nerve to giggle at that, grinning at him with low-lidded eyes, and Jungkook hastily wipes his cum off your skin, attacking you with another passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.

“There’s no way you’re not marrying me after this,” he murmurs.

You teasingly graze your teeth on his bottom lip. “I’ll think about it.”

He groans. “Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”

“At least let me sleep on it, Kook.”

“Fuck—fine.” He grabs your sides and pulls you flush against his body. “Guess I’ll have to keep on convincing you until you agree.”

****

“God, why is this so difficult?” Jungkook whines, keeping you in his embrace, head tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

The air is very humid and Jungkook’s in his naval aviator uniform, which doesn’t look cool in a sense that air is properly flowing through the material. He doesn’t care though, doesn’t care that it’s sticking to his skin as he refuses to let you go, not even when you complain playfully.

“Kook, I’m fucking sweaty.”

“I don’t care.”

You laugh. 

He’s leaving to return to his duty and you’re here with him outside the base before he enters, being with him until the last possible minute because that’s how much of a good wife you are.

Yes, you and Jungkook did get married. Three days ago in fact, at the city hall’s courtroom. Neither of you invited your parents; they didn’t know about the occasion and you refused to tell them, afraid that they may be critical about yours and his choices when they discover the true reason why you’re rushing to be wed. The only people that remained to be aware of it was Seowon and his girlfriend, Winnie, who served as the witnesses, which was fine by you. In your understanding, this was just for the papers and your health, and not the real deal yet to be celebrated lavishly.

“I’ll propose to you again after a couple of years,” Jungkook promised after the ceremony. “Let’s renew our vows and I’ll give you an amazing wedding.”

You would have told him that there was no need, but who were you kidding? You did want a proper wedding with Jungkook. The previous week didn’t even feel like you were newlyweds. Yes, the both of you compacted all of the dates you could have if one of you weren’t such a chicken in five days, and yes, though the honeymoon stage was experienced and practiced—it was only because you were a new couple who after years of hiding their feelings for one another, was now finally free to express it as much as they desired.

“Call me everyday?” you ask when he finally pulls back, Jungkook pecking your lips one more time.

“Definitely.” He smiles. “Visit me whenever possible?”

“Of course.” You kiss him too.

His smile transforms into a grin. “Take care of yourself, alright? Keep me updated all the time. No sugarcoating allowed.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Rolling his eyes, he gives you another kiss and engulfs you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground that causes you to giggle.

“Okay, pack it up, love birds!” Seowon shouts.

The two of you turn to your brother who’s leaning on his car, the vehicle that was used to transport the three of you today. You’re still in the middle of moving your belongings at Jungkook’s place and Seowon was kind enough to volunteer helping, always dubious that you could do stuff on your own. Despite your reluctance, you let him assist you, mostly because you’re trying to make a conscious effort in not upsetting him again.

Let’s just say that when the judge hailed you husband and wife at the civil wedding, Seowon wasn’t thrilled to see that the kiss shared between you and Jungkook wasn’t as fake as the supposed sham marriage, leading him to the conclusion that in the middle of Jungkook’s ruse of convincing you to be his wife, something must have happened that led to your approval and that rather 18+ rated kiss. Mostly though, he’s just offended that neither of you thought of telling him that you were an official couple before the wedding.

Jungkook unwillingly places you down.

“I think I need to go,” you say.

He nods with a sigh. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“Call you tomorrow?”

“Yes.” You affectionately caress his cheek, bringing his face down for the very very very last kiss. 

He leans into it. “Fuck, I don’t want to leave.”

“Seriously—hurry up!” Seowon shouts and you pull back.

“I will kill him,” you tell Jungkook.

“He’s your brother,” he says. “And now, my brother-in-law, so I can’t let you do that.”

“That might be your very first red flag, Jungkook, insinuating that you’re choosing my brother over me.” You cross your arms. “Tell me, if the both of us were drowning, would you save me or Seowon?”

“You,” he answers without missing a beat.

You narrow your eyes. “Is that the truth?”

“Of course. Seowon would probably undrown himself anyway and you’re shit at swimming. It’s an easy choice.”

You punch him hard on the shoulder and he feigns hurt, snickering. “For the record, I don’t think anyone can ‘undrown’ themselves—but fine, you pass the test.”

Jungkook faces Seowon’s direction and does a final salute, your brother returning it swiftly, and just like that, you and him share your last farewells. You watch as he goes through the entrance of the base and sends you a wave of goodbye; you weakly copy the gesture and stand there for a few seconds, just watching him fade from your view the further he trudges inside. You don’t think saying goodbye to him ever felt this heavy, and you blame it on the fact that after all this is the first time you’re saying goodbye to him with the assurance that he loves you too—and that alone weighs millions.

You spin on your heel and go to Seowon who’s already in the driver’s seat. As soon as you get in and wear your seat belt, he’s giving you a dirty look.

“What?” you ask.

“Please never do that in front of me again.”

His statement makes you smirk. “Why? Didn’t you want this?”

“Want what?”

“Me and Jungkook to be together.”

“When on earth did I say that?”

“You previously admitted that you were lowkey playing cupid by suggesting that Jungkook marry me for health insurance.”

A short pause. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to watch you two reenact a porno every fucking time.”

“We’re not—”

“You are. Don’t deny it.” He grumbles. “God, every time I see you two, it’s like I’m Ross from that one Friends episode where he accidentally sees Monica and Chandler doing it from the window of his apartment.”

“Yeah, I remember that.” You laugh. “In my defense, you haven’t seen me and Jungkook actually do the deed so—”

“Wait, so the two of you have?”

Your expression drops. His tone is approaching older brother protectiveness territory and you’re quick to attempt diffusing the situation. “I will not dive into that. All I’m going to say is that I’m a grown adult and so is Jungkook.”

He grimaces before starting the engine. “Yeah, never dive into that. I don’t need to hear the details.”

You share a laugh and then silence fills the car.

You press your lips together, looking at him while he backs out from the parking spot. “Hey, thanks, by the way. For driving today, and for offering to help me later, and maybe for also never minding your own business.”

You recall how Seowon was the one who couldn’t stop worrying about you and finding a solution when you told your family that you had type 1 diabetes. Your parents were concerned, they pestered you for months to force you to accept financial assistance from them, but they gave up soon after. Seowon though? He never did. He persisted through every outburst you had; he tolerated your bitchiness and your dirty looks all the time. Out of everyone in your life, you always felt like regardless of how stubborn and prideful you could be, Seowon was worse—in the best way possible.

A crooked smile illuminates his face. “You’re my kid sister. It’s my job to never let you experience peace in your whole life.”

You scoff. “Well, you’re damn great at what you do.”

When you reach Jungkook’s apartment, unloading the boxes and arranging your stuff to its designated places, your heart swells in happiness as the reality sinks in that your life is heading in the right direction after months of feeling hopeless. It drives you to be more thankful to the little things, to the people who were always by your side, to your previous circumstance that although wasn’t ideal was still manageable. A lot don’t get to have that kind of privilege and you promise yourself that you’ll make an effort to find more things to be grateful about from this day forward.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Seowon approaches in the middle of you arranging your books on Jungkook’s near to empty shelf, “Winnie wanted to give you this. She would have handed it over herself but she’s going to be busy for the next few days.”

You take the frame from his hand and see that it’s the picture Winnie took of you and Jungkook after the ceremony. It’s in the restaurant that you ate at to celebrate the civil wedding. Jungkook was grinning at you with an arm around on the backrest of your chair, you were leaning towards him, smiling at the camera—and the absolute selling point of why this was the best picture ever taken was because of how cake icing was scattered on your faces, places on spots in an artistic manner like it was planted there on purpose for the picture and not because the both of you were being silly that instance.

You think it showcases your relationship with Jungkook marvelously. It’s playful, it’s sweet, and most of all, it demonstrates how you two are clearly great friends.

“This is so beautiful, Seowon,” you say.

You immediately send Winnie a heartfelt thank you message for the gift and continue to take a photo of the frame, sending it to Jungkook as well.

Once you hit send, you type out a message to accompany it.

You: look how cute we look 🥹

You’re certain it’ll take hours before he replies so you keep your phone again, going back to staring at the picture which is now placed on one of the shelves. It’s the sole picture frame you have with Jungkook. In fact, it’s the only picture that Jungkook has in his apartment, and you like to think that this might be the mark of the new beginning you’ll have with him. Even though your relationship wouldn’t be traditionally explored given his occupation and how he’s most likely going to be away a lot, you don’t mind.

If there’s one thing you really believe in, it’s that waiting for Jungkook—whether consciously or unconsciously—always brings out the best outcomes.

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[sleepyhoon]

THREE WEEKS & THREE DAYS - P.SH

pairing. best friend's ex!sunghoon x reader

genre. best friend's ex au, halloween au, smut, angst (if you squint).

word count. 12.2k+

warnings. alcohol consumption, drug usage, partying, driving under the influence, toxic relationships, themes of divorce, brief mention of physical abuse, smut [car sex, use of handcuffs, oral, praise kink/dirty talk, creampie]

summary. a stressful night at a Halloween party has you seeking comfort from the last person you should be involved with — your best friend's ex.

a/n. HIGHLY HIGHLY inspired by season 2 episode 1 of euphoria! this is a work of pure fiction and is NOT a reflection of how i view the members. despite writing this story, i DO NOT condone the dangerous choices the characters in this fic make and DO NOT encourage others to do so! read at your own discretion.  also, very special thanks to @zreamy for beta-reading this for me!!

When you were six, you spent Halloween night lying on a hospital bed dressed as Hannah Montana.

Everything happened so fast; one moment, you were trick-or-treating with your father and younger sister while scarfing down a Snickers bar for the first time (a king-sized one at that), and the next, your dad was rushing you to the hospital in a panic, tears in his eyes as he encouraged you to stay awake in the backseat.

By the time you’d arrived at the hospital, your body had gone completely limp, and your father struggled to carry both you and your younger sister into the hospital lobby. From what you can remember, it was like a scene from a movie: seeing your dad cry for the first time, being wheeled into an unfamiliar bright room on a mobile bed, all while dressed as your favorite popstar.

The scariest part of the night was shortly after arriving at the hospital and catching a glimpse of your reflection, not recognizing the person staring back at you. The blonde wig and blue eye contacts were to be expected, but the swollen face and half-lidded eyes were another. Had you been able to breathe (let alone talk), you likely would’ve given your sister a classic Halloween jumpscare.

Your mother had arrived only a few minutes after you did, yelling at your father loud enough to have the hospital staff threaten to kick her out. “You forgot she was allergic to peanuts?! Where was her fucking EpiPen?!”

Your dad sighed, running a hand across his face, “I forgot to pick it up. I’ve been busy with…you know.”

She scoffs, “You don’t think I’ve been busy too?! Especially now that we have to meet with the divorce lawyer once a week?!”

Your ears perk up at that, “Divorce?”

You hadn’t known much about the true meaning of divorce, except that it’s something your friend’s parents had gone through, and now he gets two of everything. Two birthdays, two Christmases, two lives. So simple yet so perfect, what child wouldn’t dream of that?

Your parents, who hadn’t even known you were awake, silence themselves immediately. Tears quickly form in your mother’s eyes as she realizes they’d been caught, trying their best to keep the news of their divorce as quiet as possible, waiting for the right moment to explain to you and your sister, Yuna, the real meaning of it, and how different your lives would be.

It dawns on them that there’s no point trying to keep this secret any longer. You were a smart kid, it was probably only a matter of time before you found out on your own, anyway. 

All in one night, you managed to survive a near-death experience, only to be followed by the news of your parents’ divorce. And somehow, at twenty-three years old, watching Lee Heeseung flirt with random girls at a Halloween party is much worse than everything you experienced that cursed night in 2007.

“Can you at least pretend that you’re having a good time?!” You can barely hear Minjeong over how loud the music is, her words fading in and out as you take a sip from your cup.

“I am having a good time, isn’t it obvious?” you reply, showing Minjeong your best fake smile.

Grinning, Minjeong shakes her head at you. “Not at all. Here, need a refill?”

Without waiting for your response, Minjeong hops off the kitchen counter and snatches the red solo cup in your hand. You don’t bother protesting, sighing as you rest your weight against the marble countertop, while she adds a mix of different ingredients to your cup.

When she’s not looking, you tilt your head in the direction of the living room, hoping to get a glance at Heeseung through the sea of drunken college students.

The only word that can be used to describe your relationship with Heeseung is ‘unfortunate’. You were together for six months, and spent most of the time fighting, making up, and having sex. It was a relentless, tiresome cycle you allowed yourself to succumb to just for the sake of not having to be alone.

Most of the arguments would start with you questioning Heeseung’s loyalty, growing suspicious upon seeing his username pop up in the likes section of random girls on social media. In hindsight, it seems like a silly thing to get upset over. The entire purpose of social media was to connect and interact with others anyway, but, why was it always girls? And why would these girls suddenly start watching your stories?

Breaking up with him was harder than you could’ve imagined, and you’re sure you wouldn’t have been able to do it without Minjeong by your side, encouraging you through the entire process. 

The aftermath was embarrassingly excruciating. For two weeks, you locked yourself in your bedroom and fell into a cycle of sleeping and crying, occasionally taking breaks to eat or use the restroom. At one point, your phone spent a full forty-eight hours without being turned on at all, causing your loved ones to panic upon not being able to get ahold of you.

Slowly but surely you managed to build yourself back up, finally starting to feel like your old self when Heeseung suggested the two of you get back together.

You were hesitant, of course, telling Heeseung you were willing to work things out if he can prove to you he’s changed and ready to be the loyal, doting boyfriend he should’ve been from the start.

So no, you’re not together. But you’re also not not together. It’s confusing.

A football player is blocking your view of Heeseung (dressed as a cowboy), you have to stand on your tip-toes to catch a glimpse of him talking to — wait, who is that?

“Patrick would not stand for this.” Minjeong interrupts your thoughts, poking fun at your costume choice of a female Patrick Bateman.

You shrug, pretending to act clueless. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

Minjeong rolls her eyes, shoving your cup back into your hand “Sure, you weren’t. Come on, cheers with me.”

“To what?” you ask, suspiciously eyeing the drink she’s just handed you. Minjeong isn’t that great of a cook, so you can imagine she’s not the best bartender either. In fact, it’d be best if she stayed far away from any sort of kitchen appliance.

She thinks for a moment then excitedly extends her cup out to you. “To getting over our shitty ex-boyfriends!”

Minjeong’s ex was Park Sunghoon, they dated on and off for a year and a half before calling it quits over the summer. You don’t remember the exact reason why they broke up, there were many different factors. It didn’t matter, they were bad for each other anyway and the relationship was entirely too toxic for either of their wellbeing. 

You don’t know much about Sunghoon aside from the things Minjeong felt comfortable enough to share with you and the fact that he is on the university’s hockey team with Heeseung. You’ve probably had a handful of conversations and interactions with Sunghoon in the entire time of knowing him, and are more than happy with things staying that way.

Holding your cup up high, you match Minjeong’s smile and tap your cup against hers. “To getting over our ex-boyfriends!”

The drink is disgusting. You quickly turn away so you don’t hurt your best friend’s feelings by gagging at the taste. She manages to down her entire cup while you make quick work of pouring a majority of yours down the sink behind you.

Minjeong stares down at her empty cup with wide eyes, licking the remains off her plump lips. “Holy shit, that was so good. Do you want more? I’m gonna make myself another cup.”

“I’m good for now, thanks,” you say, snatching your cup away when she reaches for it. Minjeong raises a brow at you, and you follow up with, “I should wait before having another drink.”

She nods understandingly, and you give yourself a mental pat on the back for coming up with that so quickly.

While she’s occupied with making another drink, your eyes trail back over towards Heeseung. The football player from earlier is gone, and now that your view is no longer obstructed, you watch in confusion as Heeseung now has this mystery girl by the waist, leaning his head down close to her lips as she whispers something in his ear.

This really is worse than Halloween 2007.

“Hey.” You tap Minjeong’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

She follows your line of sight, scowling when it lands on Heeseung. “YN, don’t make a big deal out of this. You guys technically aren’t even together.”

“Relax, I’m just going to say hi.” You assure her, moving to head towards Heeseung when Minjeong stops you with a hand on your chest. “Think about this, please.”

You sigh, using your free hand to clutch hers and slowly bring it down from your chest. “I’ll be fine. Be back soon so we can dance, okay?”

Minjeong knows she won’t be able to stop you once your mind is made up, all she can do is sigh and wish you the best as you make a beeline for your ex. Maybe not the greatest idea on your part, but you’re too tipsy to think rationally.

Heeseung doesn’t notice you when you first approach, it takes the mystery girl awkwardly gesturing in your direction for him to finally look over at you, immediately dropping his hand from the girl’s waist. “YN!” He shouts, a little too excitedly, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

A few minutes later, you find yourself in an unfamiliar bedroom with Heeseung on step one of your toxic cycle — arguing.

“You’re overreacting,” Heeseung claims. “We were just talking.”

“About what, Heeseung? Why did you have to hold her by the fucking waist to talk to her?”

“Because! She was drunk! I was holding her up so she wouldn’t fall and hurt herself!”

“Who gives a shit if she falls? She’s not your fucking girlfriend.”

“Yeah, well, neither are you.” 

His words shouldn’t hurt as much as they do because he’s right; despite trying to work on things, you aren’t his girlfriend. You were the one who said you weren’t ready to get back together, not him. You shouldn’t be upset with him for talking to other girls.

And yet, here you are with tears in your eyes. 

You nod silently, avoiding his gaze as a lump forms in your throat. 

Heeseung must realize how much his words have affected you if the way he curses at himself, and shamefully runs a hand across his face is anything to go by. “Listen, I’m sor-”

“Don’t bother.” You stand from the bed, holding back a sob.“Everything about this was a mistake. You’ll never change.”

Heeseung reaches a hand out to grab your arm as you push past him. “YN, I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, Heeseung, you did mean it,” you say, pulling the bedroom door open.

There is no point in trying to reason with Heeseung. You know in a matter of time he’ll apologize, you’ll accept it like you always do, have make-up sex, then lecture him about how important it is that he changes before you can consider getting back together. Another endless cycle you’ve fallen into.

Stepping back into the party, you head in the opposite direction of where Minjeong would be, not wanting to run into her in your current state and bump right into someone dressed as Spiderman, causing the little remains of your drink to spill over and knock to the ground. You’re grateful that a crucial part of Patrick Bateman’s costume involved a plastic raincoat, or else your outfit would have suffered a dark blue stain.

“Oh my God, YN! I’m so sorry!” Spider-Man apologizes with a thick Australian accent.

“Jake?” You question, gesturing for him to take the mask off.

He follows your command, face bright red from embarrassment or alcohol. Probably both.

“Yeah, haha, hey. Really sorry about that, I can get you a new drink.” Jake turns in the direction of the kitchen before you stop him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine, Jake. Do you know where the bathroom is?”

Jake thinks for a moment, scratching at the small amount of stubble that’s graced his chin. He really does make a perfect Spider-Man, and if you weren’t so upset, you probably would’ve stayed and told him that.

“Upstairs, all the way down the hall. Wait! It’s occupied, people are doing coke in there, I think.”

Great.

You sigh. “Do you know if there’s another one I can use?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s one.” Jake turns, pointing to a door at the end of the hallway. “Right there. I saw a few people come in and out.”

Thanking Jake, you follow his direction and head to the door at the end of the hallway.

It’s a garage, not a bathroom. But, as long as you get a moment alone, you don’t really care where you are.

After shutting the door behind you, you sit on top of a washing machine and flinch at the cold metal sending chills down your thighs.

You shouldn’t have come out tonight, you don’t even care about Halloween to begin with. It’s an overrated holiday, you wish you would’ve convinced Minjeong to stay in with you and have a classic horror movie marathon while eating takeout and pausing to hand out (peanut-free) candy to trick-or-treaters.

Though, you’re sure you still would’ve spent the better half of the night obsessively tapping through Heeseung’s Instagram stories or trying to spot him in the background of someone else’s. It was a lose-lose situation no matter what, and you find yourself wondering if there’s an end to this unhealthy cycle.

Despite being so young when it happened, you’re sure your parents’ divorce obstructed your view of love and how a healthy adult relationship should work. Your father went on to have short-lived relationships with younger women who were using him for his money, while your mother remained single and chose to criticize her ex-husband’s current lifestyle choices. They couldn’t even co-parent in peace, always making petty comments to the other during drop-offs and pick-ups, finding any and every little thing to start arguing about.

One time in particular, after spending the weekend at your father’s house, your mother slapped him in a Dairy Queen parking lot upon realizing his new girlfriend had taken you and your sister to get your ears pierced. You didn’t actually see the slap happen, but it was loud enough to echo through the empty parking lot and hard enough to leave a red mark on his face.

The memory has tears forming in your eyes for the umpteenth time tonight, but before any of them have the chance to trickle down, the garage door swings open.

You turn, and Park Sunghoon (dressed as a police officer) is staring back at you with a confused look on his face. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before pointing in the direction of the party. “Uh, Jake said this was the bathroom.”

Shaking your head, you offer him a small smile. “No, the bathroom’s upstairs but it’s being used. If you really have to go, I’m pretty sure that door leads to the backyard.” You nod your head in the direction of the other door, and Sunghoon picks up on what you’re implying.

He thanks you before jogging over to the exit, setting his cup down on a metal dog crate before turning the knob and pushing open the door.

Sunghoon stands far enough out of frame that you only see a portion of his backside, and once the sound of him pissing on the grass hits your ears, you wonder why he didn’t bother to close the door in the first place.

Men.

He clears his throat awkwardly, “So, you s–”

You cut him off. “Let’s just wait until you’re done, please.”

Sunghoon nods, mumbling, “Right, right.”

He finishes up a few seconds later, zipping his pants back up and properly adjusting himself before returning to the garage, closing the door behind him and picking his drink back up in the process. “So, I’m guessing you’re…upset because of Heeseung?”

You let out a sad chuckle that sounds more like a sob. “Lucky guess. He’s just so fucking confusing, I can’t take it.”

“You’ll be alright,” Sunghoon responds, slipping his phone from his pants pocket and unlocking it. “Heeseung’s a douchebag.”

This catches you off guard, and you’re laughing before you even realize it. “Isn’t he your friend?”

Sunghoon shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at his phone as he scrolls. “Not really. We don’t talk much if it isn’t related to hockey or school.”

A beat of silence passes, then you ask, “When Heeseung and I were together, did he mention anything about cheating on me? Or talking to other girls?”

Sunghoon glances up at you for a split second, taking in how sad and hopeful you look before returning his gaze to the weather app he’d been using to distract himself.

He wasn’t sure if Heeseung went as far as physically cheating on you, but he was definitely talking to other girls behind your back; proudly showing the hockey team countless nudes and vulgar photos they would send him, some of them coming from your own friends. 

Sunghoon can’t tell you this, you’re upset enough as it is.

“I wouldn’t know, I always tuned him out whenever he talked.”

Though he’s not sure what answer you were hoping for, Sunghoon can tell you’re a little disappointed by his response. Truthfully, he didn’t feel like getting involved in anyone else’s drama. If you wanted clarity from Heeseung, you should’ve gone straight to the source.

“Sorry,” you apologize, feeling slightly embarrassed that you probably made things awkward, “have you seen Minjeong?”

Your attempt to change the subject seems to work, because Sunghoon scoffs loudly at your question and shoves his phone back in his pocket. “Have I seen the girl that just spent ten minutes yelling at me? Yeah, we may have crossed paths.” He says sarcastically, shaking his head before taking a sip of his drink.

“Yell at you? For what?”

“She fuckin’…I guess before we broke up she said I should dress up as a cop for Halloween and I must’ve said no, and now she’s saying I only dressed up like this,” he gestures towards himself, “to spite her. Fuckin’ insanity.”

“Well, did you?” You can’t help but ask, Minjeong would always go on for hours about how spiteful of a person Sunghoon was.

He shrugs, mindlessly tracing the rim of the red solo cup with his pointer finger, “Maybe, but this is all that was left in my size at the party store.”

You’re surprised Sunghoon makes you laugh as much as he does, and maybe that’s a bad thing since it’s making you enjoy talking to him. Though he technically isn’t your enemy, he’s definitely not a person you should enjoy having a conversation with. It’s not appropriate, he’s the ex boyfriend of your best friend; all your ties to him were cut the moment Minjeong broke up with him.

You should tell him to leave, that you’re really upset over Heeseung and prefer to be alone, but you don’t. Instead, you keep the conversation going, laughing every joke he makes and completely forgetting why you were upset to begin with.

Halfway through telling Sunghoon about the horrid drink Minjeong had prepared for you, your legs grow numb from having been sat on for so long. You untuck them from underneath your body, not thinking much of it as you continue on with the story, legs dangling against the cold washing machine.

Sunghoon takes notice, though, his eyes quickly darting down to the space between your legs and the white fabric that’s suddenly visible to him due to the short length of your skirt. You miss it the first time he does it, but the second and third time are hard to ignore, especially now that he doesn’t seem to mind being caught.

You really should cross your legs or call him out on his staring. Or maybe even get up and leave entirely.

To no one’s surprise you don’t do either of those things and opt to keep your panties visible enough for Sunghoon to see while you continue to talk his ear off about his ex-girlfriend. There’s something unspoken happening between the two of you, and it’s exciting yet confusing since this is the longest conversation you’ve had with him in the two years you’ve known each other. 

The strangest part of it all is that you’re just now realizing how attractive Sunghoon is, Sure, he’d always been a good looking guy, but you’d always seen him as Minjeong’s property and never paid much attention to his face out of respect for her.

But Minjeong no longer has a claim on him, and now you really notice the perfectly placed moles that graced the side of his nose and under his eye. He really was a sight to behold, you often find yourself stumbling over your words as you speak to him, becoming flustered over the intensity of the eye contact he’d been making with you.

“…my throat is still burning and it’s been, like, twenty minutes.” You say with a laugh, watching as Sunghoon finishes off his own drink.

He sets the empty cup down, licking the remaining alcohol on his lips before smacking them, “Yeah, I wouldn’t trust her in a kitchen. I’m not that good either, though. There was this one time I had to make brownies for our hockey team’s bake sale and they turned out awful. It’s like, half of them were watery and the other half were burnt. So weird.”

“That doesn’t even sound possible.”

“I’m serious! Hold on, I probably have a picture.” 

It takes Sunghoon approximately forty-five seconds of scrolling through his Snapchat memories to find a photo of those godforsaken brownies, and sure enough, they really are a watery, burnt mess. Not that you can even focus on the picture to begin with now that he’s sitting next to you on the washing machine, and you’re finally able to see him up close.

Sunghoon’s words go in one ear and out the other, because now you’re close enough to smell the cologne he’s dabbed on the back of his neck, and notice the metal handcuffs hooked in his belt loop, and it makes it hard to focus on anything else. Especially his uninteresting story about those stupid fucking brownies.

When Sunghoon locks his phone, you take it as a sign that he’s finished with his story and let out another laugh, “Not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he jokes, slightly slurring his words. 

Maybe it’s the fact that his voice sounds deeper than usual, or that he’s staring right at you with half lidded eyes, or that he's started playing with the handcuffs on his waist, but Sunghoon looks dangerously attractive right now. 

You gulp, looking down at your lap, “Well, at least one of us had a nice drink.”

Sunghoon nods, running his fingernails along your plastic raincoat, “Wanna taste mine?” He asks, eyes darting down to your lips for a split second.

If there was ever a time to get up and leave, it should’ve been now. The rational part of your brain is telling you to push Sunghoon away and return to the party and forget this encounter with him ever happened. But you can’t move, and if you’re being honest, you don’t even want to.

You’re stuck in place, heart beating out of your chest as Sunghoon leans in closer to you. You feel dizzy in the best way possible, and a part of you feels sick for enjoying the moment as much as you do. 

His breath fans your cheek, and the faint scent of alcohol on it should’ve been enough to remind you that you shouldn’t be in this situation with him. Still, you don’t move.

Right before Sunghoon has the chance to kiss you, the door swings open and you jolt away from each other out of shock, clutching your chest as you watch Jake jog into the garage.

“You guys seen my vape?” he asks, a little out of breath.

“I…no, Jake. Why would it be in the garage?” Sunghoon asks, hopping down from the washing machine. He offers a hand to help you down and you ignore it, finally starting to come back to your senses.

“Dude, I don’t fucking know! It was just in my pocket and now it’s gone, it could be anywhere. Help me look!”

Spending your night in a garage helping Jake look for a strawberry-flavored vape doesn’t sound ideal in the slightest; now is the perfect time to leave.

Heading in the direction of the party, you pause when Sunghoon calls out your name, a slight shakiness to his voice. “Keep an eye out for me, yeah?”

Another beat of silence passes, then you nod and say, “Yeah.”

In your defense, there’s nothing to feel guilty over. All you did was have a conversation with Sunghoon, and keeping an eye out for him doesn’t necessarily mean anything else will happen, right?

You try not to think too much about it as you exit the garage, holding in a laugh when Sunghoon says something along the lines of, “You’re a grown ass man, Jake.”

What Minjeong lacks in cooking, she makes up for in dancing.

While you wouldn’t consider yourself to be on her level of dancing, you’d say you’re good enough to keep up with her at a crowded party. If swaying to the music, holding hands, and grinding on each other counts as dancing, that is.

“You’re too stiff; loosen up, babe,” she comments, fingers interlocked with yours.

“Sorry,” you reply, slightly frustrated since you don’t feel like dancing in the first place. “What were you saying?”

“Oh, yeah!” Minjeong turns to face you, moving your arms to drape them around her shoulders. “Then he said I was being crazy, and that he only got the costume because it was all that was left in his size, as if I believe that.”

“Sorry that happened,” you say, and it comes out more sarcastic than you had intended it to. 

Minjeong takes notice of this, raising a brow at you before slipping her arms under your raincoat and pulling you closer to her. “You okay?”

The two of you are pressed so close up against each other that it almost feels romantic, and you’re sure if there was another drink in your system you’d probably lean in and kiss her. 

You nod. “Just thinking about Heeseung.”

Fake offended, Minjeong’s jaw drops. “You’re dancing with the hottest girl at this party, and all you can think about is your ex? I’m hurt, YN.”

Truth be told, her ex was the one you were thinking about, certainly not your own.

Not a whole lot of time has passed since you left Sunghoon in the garage, but you make sure to keep your promise of keeping an eye out for him upon returning to the party. You’re certain that on the outside you probably look panicked and frantic, eyes darting all over the place for any sign of Sunghoon.

“Well,” Minjeong starts, tugging on your tie. “Since you’re thinking about your ex, it’s only fair that I think of mine; and there he is.”

You stop yourself from excitedly shouting, “Where?!” and watch as Minjeong subtly nods towards the staircase.

Sure enough, Sunghoon is leaning against the banister, eyes zeroing in on you with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“He’s been watching me for, like, ten minutes. Probably wants to see if you and I will make out, fucking pervert,” she says, rolling her eyes.

Minjeong has it wrong, Sunghoon has been watching you for the past ten minutes. Ever since he finished helping Jake find that stupid vape, he’s had his sights set on you and you only.

That other part was probably true, though.

You swallow the lump in your throat and say, “Such a pervert.” It comes out a tad more robotic than you were going for, but you tried your best. 

Once Sunghoon is sure that Minjeong is distracted, he mouths, “Bathroom,” before immediately turning around and jogging up the steps.

Fuck, are you really about to do this? 

Your eyes dart from Minjeong to the staircase, and you can’t believe you’re even considering going upstairs to meet her ex. Everything about this predicament is sick and twisted and perfectly on brand for Halloween. 

But, somehow, it’s not sick enough to stop you.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna get some air; I’m feeling kinda dizzy,” you lie, hoping it’s believable enough.

Minjeong stops dancing immediately, a look of genuine concern on her face. “Here, I’ll come with you.”

“No, no. You keep having fun, I’ll be back soon. Make another drink for me, okay? I’m sure I’ll need it,” you assure her with a smile, taking her hands into yours.

“Fine, I’ll be here. But the only drink I’m making for you is a Ginger Ale.”

Thank God.

After giving Minjeong a kiss on the cheek (feeling guilty as ever), you slip past her and head towards the direction of the backyard. Once Minjeong is fully out of sight, you switch paths and sprint up the staircase, bumping into and angering a few people along the way. 

You keep your head down once you reach the second floor, speed walking to the end of the hallway and avoiding eye contact with everyone you walk by until you reach the bathroom.

The door is closed and locked, of course, and that’s when it dawns on you that this could be one big, elaborate prank from Sunghoon. You could open the door and be met with a camera in your face with Sunghoon recording, laughing maniacally before mentioning something about telling Minjeong everything and that he stayed loyal to her the entire time.

Unfortunately for you, even that possibility doesn’t scare you away from knocking on the door and saying, “It’s me, YN.”

The knob twists before the door is pushed open, barely enough room to slide in discreetly, but you manage anyway.

Using your body weight to press the door shut, Sunghoon reaches behind you to make sure it’s locked. “You really came.”

You hate that he sounds shocked, as if he had some faith that you wouldn’t risk your friendship with Minjeong for a few minutes with him, of all people. He’s not even your type.

“Don’t make a big deal out of this.”

Sunghoon scoffs as if you’ve said the most obvious thing in the world. “Trust me, I won’t.”

You don’t have time to overthink the meaning of his words because before you can even realize it, Sunghoon is pushing you further up against the door, and he’s kissing you, finally kissing you.

This kiss is everything but soft, and it knocks the wind out of you. Sunghoon’s hand cups your jaw, tilting your head sideways to allow himself further into your mouth. It’s wet and sloppy, you’re certain that dancing with Minjeong was far more romantic than this. You kiss back anyway, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and grabbing a fistful of his hair, shivers running down your spine when he groans into your mouth. Without breaking the kiss, Sunghoon reaches down to slip the raincoat off of you, pressing your body closer against him to ease it off. 

He pulls away slowly, his blown-out eyes focused on the string of saliva that connects your mouths to one another. “Fuck,” he groans at the sight, moving his mouth to kiss along your jaw.

You let out a moan when you feel his tongue slide against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, tilting your head back against the door. Sunghoon takes notice of this, focusing his attention on that same spot, sucking on it hard enough to leave a mark before teasingly scraping his canines along the area.

Quickly, your fingers move to unbutton your shirt, suddenly feeling warm all over. You’re only halfway done when there’s a sudden banging on the other side of the door, startling you enough to halt your movements.

“Ignore it,” Sunghoon mutters against your neck. “They’ll go away.”

They don’t go away, they actually start to bang louder and harder once a few seconds pass.

Sunghoon lets out a frustrated sigh, lifting his head away from you, “Occupied!”

“Sunghoon?” You hear Minjeong’s voice on the other side of the door, causing you and Sunghoon both to freeze.

“M-Minjeong?” He stutters.

“I have to piss,” Minjeong whines, messing with the doorknob. “Hurry up!”

Sunghoon must sense your panic and the fact that you feel like bursting into loud sobs, because he places his hand over your mouth before mouthing for you to stay quiet.

Minjeong doesn’t let up on trying to open the door, and you’re sure that with just enough force, she could probably get it open.

“I’m using it! Can’t you just go outside?”

“I’m a fucking girl, Sunghoon. Just hurry up and finish.”

“Just…just hold on a second, Minnie.”

Minnie? Fuck is that about?

Sunghoon pulls you away from the door, keeping his voice and movements as low as possible. “You’re gonna have to hide in the bathtub, just lay down flat and wait for her to leave.”

“What?! What if she sees me?!” You whisper, silently praying Minjeong can’t hear you over the music.

“She won’t, okay? I’ll pull the shower curtain back. It’s the only option we have right now unless you want to jump out the window.”

You shake your head. “There has to be a better idea.”

On the other side of the door, Minjeong begins to grow impatient, anxiously tapping her foot against the floor. She’s had three full drinks and is on the verge of busting the bathroom door down if Sunghoon doesn’t open it soon. She focuses her gaze downward, raising a brow at a piece of plastic that’s been slightly pushed under the crack of the door. What is it? A shower curtain? It can’t be, why would the shower curtain be on the floor? It looks more like…

“Fuck! The cops!” A drunk voice yells before the entire house panics, sirens and flashing blue and red lights fill the house.

Inside the bathroom, Sunghoon had still been trying to convince you to lay down in the bathtub when even more panic sets in.

Minjeong bangs on the door one last time. “Sunghoon, the cops are here, you need to leave! Fuck, I gotta find YN!” She yells before taking off down the hall.

Police officers are raiding the house, and all Minjeong can focus on is finding you and making sure you're okay, while you were seconds away from hooking up with her ex. What a fucking nightmare.

“We gotta jump out the window,” Sunghoon says, hurrying over to the other side of the bathroom and forcing the window open.

“What?! Why?!”

“People are doing fucking illegal drugs at this party, YN, and now the fucking cops are here. My dad works for the city and if-” He pauses to grunt, struggling to get the window all the way open. “-news spreads that his son was at a house party that was full of people doing fucking cocaine his career will be fucking over. Fuck!”

This doesn’t explain why you have to jump out of the window with him, but you narrow it down to the possibility of Sunghoon just wanting to be around you for a little longer. And as pathetic as it sounds, you find yourself smiling at the possibility.

Sunghoon finally gets the window fully open, quickly hiking one leg over. “It’s not that far of a jump, we’ll be fine. I’ll go first then let you know when to jump.”

“You’ll catch me?” you ask, buttoning your shirt back up. Now that the raincoat is gone, you probably resemble a perverted schoolgirl costume.

Sunghoon sighs. “Yes, YN, I am going to catch you. Just be ready to run, my car’s down the street.”

He doesn’t give you any time to protest before hiking his other leg out the window and jumping down; you watch in horror as he lands face down. If it weren’t for your current predicament, you’re sure you would’ve gotten the ick.

It takes Sunghoon a few seconds to get back up, brushing himself off before standing, “Come on! Hurry!”

Despite your hesitancy, you follow Sunghoon’s action and hike a leg out of the window, staring down at him. “Are you sure about this?!”

“If you want me to catch you, you better jump now!”

Halloween fucking sucks.

You swear to yourself as you hike your other leg out of the window, saying a quick prayer as you brace yourself to jump.

Sunghoon doesn’t exactly catch you, but he does brace your fall, which is good enough for you. 

He groans in pain from the impact as you stand and dust yourself off, reaching a hand down to help him up. “Sorry!”

Sunghoon stands, feeling a tad bit dizzy and lightheaded. “Just follow me.”

It isn’t too late to turn around and find Minjeong and just leave with her. In fact, it’d be the morally correct thing to do in this situation. Not that you seem to care for morals.

You make a mental note to send Minjeong a text later as you run after Sunghoon.

Sunghoon is not that great of a driver, but this doesn't surprise you.

He's still somewhat tipsy, occasionally swerving along the empty back roads.

What makes it worse is that Minjeong has been calling and texting you nonstop, your phone practically burning a hole in your pocket as you ignore her relentless attempts.

Sunghoon is trying his hardest to stay focused on the road, but your phone ringing every few minutes was really starting to irritate him. "Just fucking answer her," he says, shaking his head.

"And say what? That I'm with you?"

Sunghoon isn't too pleased with your sarcasm and rolls his eyes, "Obviously not, YN; just do something to make her stop panicking."

That's way easier said than done, especially considering that you can barely even think about Minjeong without wanting to burst into tears. The guilt has already started to set in, and it has you questioning yourself and your morals.

You can't talk to Minjeong; it's too risky, but you can call your sister and ask her to cover for you.

Slipping your phone from your pocket, you force your eyes to unfocus and ignore the string of missed calls and messages from Minjeong, dialing your sister's phone number with trembling hands.

As always, Yuna answers on the fourth ring, sighing loudly into the phone before greeting you with a monotonous, "Hello?"

"Hey, um, I need you to help me with something," you keep your voice low, not wanting Sunghoon to hear your conversation despite being right next to him.

Yuna sighs again, "With what, YN?"

"The party I was at got raided by the cops, and we all ran, so if Minjeong calls you, I need you to tell her I'm with you," you say, your eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets when Sunghoon makes a sudden sharp turn.

"Sorry," he mutters under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

You hate that even now, you find him cute.

"Well, where are you?" Yuna asks, snapping you back to reality.

"I… it's not important, just please do me this favor."

Your sister scoffs, "You expect me to lie for you, and you can't even tell me the full story?"

"The full story isn't important, Yuna."

"Clearly, it is if you're asking me to lie to your best friend."

"Just tell her," Sunghoon groans, sounding slightly annoyed, "but make sure she doesn't tell anyone else."

Yuna doesn't have many friends, and the few she does have wouldn't even care about your drama, so it's not like she'd have anyone to share your business with. You hesitate anyway because of the principle of the situation, how just ten minutes ago you were unbuttoning your shirt for your best friend's ex. Maybe you're starting to come back to your senses because replaying the scene in your head has you cringing from embarrassment.

You lean your head against the window and squeeze your eyes shut, "I'm with Sunghoon."

The line goes silent for a few seconds, and you're worried you may have lost service from driving in such a rural area until Yuna sighs for a third time, "The pretty ones are never that bright."

"I swear it isn't like that," you plead, "just, please, help me out."

"And what will I get out of this?"

Of course, she wants something, classic younger sibling bullshit.

"Well, what do you want?"

"I don't know…a normal older sister?"

"Yuna, I don't have time for this, will you help me or not?"

Bickering with Yuna was starting to give you a headache; you were seconds away from hanging up and coming up with a new plan entirely.

"After tonight, don't involve me in this anymore; I have my own shit to deal with."

You hold back a laugh at that as if Yuna does anything other than stay home and talk to the same two people. "I won't, I swear. I'll text you when I'm close to being home; let me know if Minjeong reaches out to you."

"Whatever, just get home safe and don't do anything else stupid," Yuna says through a yawn before immediately hanging up, not giving you the chance to say goodbye.

As much as you loved your sister, the two of you weren't exactly close. The divide started sometime during high school; your interests and friend groups never really aligned and only led you to stray further away from each other.

You being fairly well-known within your high school didn't help much, either. Countless random students would approach Yuna on the daily, asking if you were seeing anyone, begging her for your number, or even giving her small gifts and treats to pass along to you. 

What annoyed her the most was that they never called her by her name, in their eyes, she was always known as "YN's sister", and nothing more than that.

You're sure Yuna doesn't hate you because of it, but it certainly didn't make her very fond of you.

"What'd she say?" Sunghoon asks, interrupting your thoughts.

"She agreed to cover for me tonight," you respond, gazing out the window, "pretty sure she's pissed, though."

"She'll get over it," Sunghoon taps the navigation system on his dashboard, "type in your address."

Despite making you jump out of a bathroom window, Sunghoon technically doesn't owe you anything. He never claimed he'd bring you back to his place to finish what you started; you quite literally only jumped because he told you to, under the pretense that maybe — just maybe — he'd want to hook up with you. 

Clearly, that wasn't happening, at least not tonight. Having to jump out the window and then proceed to drive while tipsy must've knocked some sense into him, making him realize he'd been making way too many questionable choices all in one night. 

You let out a disappointed sigh, hesitantly reaching out to type your home address into the car's GPS. The system buffers for a few seconds as it calculates the quickest route to your home before displaying an estimated travel time of thirty-eight minutes.

"Forty fucking minutes?!" Sunghoon shouts, causing you to jump. 

He sighs, cursing under his breath before reaching forward and ending the navigation route. You sit up further in the seat, ready to ask Sunghoon what he's plotting before he starts typing "7/11".

You raise a brow at this, "Why're we going there?"

Sunghoon gestures towards the navigation system as if the answer is obvious, "Your house is forty minutes away, and I'm still kinda tipsy; I'm gonna need to pull over and get something other than alcohol in my system if I'm gonna be driving for that long." There's a slight slur to his words that had you weary about him driving, so pulling over to recharge isn't a bad idea.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Sunghoon managed to safely drive the two of you to the nearest 7/11, opting to pay seventeen dollars to park in a parking garage down the street instead of the shop's personal lot.

"This neighborhood isn't that safe; I don't want anyone breaking into my car," he claims, taking up two spots as he parks in the most secluded corner possible.

The neighborhood is fairly safe; he was just being dramatic.

The walk down the street is quick and slightly awkward, with you and Sunghoon stumbling every few steps yet refusing to hold onto the other for stability.

The two of you go your separate ways upon entering the shop, Sunghoon headed straight towards the snack aisle while you make your way to the slurpee machines. The difference in your priorities was humorous, with him wanting to focus on building up energy and you wanting nothing more than a quick sugar fix.

Blue raspberry isn't necessarily your go-to flavor, but it's the only flavor on the Slurpee machine that's currently working, so you fill your plastic cup to the brim before absentmindedly reaching for a straw.

Sunghoon is still prancing around the store by the time you've finished making your drink, and despite not being that hungry, you decide to kill time by strolling through the snack aisles.

The Snickers bars and Reese's Cups look tempting as always, but you refrain, sighing as you look over the selection of peanut-contaminated candy.

"Don't even bother," Sunghoon says from behind you, causing you to gasp in shock. 

He pauses for a moment, staring at the array of snacks before grabbing a pack of Skittles and walking off.

The thought of Sunghoon being aware of your peanut allergy is as comforting as it is strange. You can't imagine this is something Minjeong randomly decided to tell him, and even if that is the case, why would he bother retaining that information? It's not like the two of you are friends.

Whatever, you're probably thinking about it too much.

After deciding on a package of powdered mini donuts and Haribo gummy bears, you proceed to the checkout counter and set your items down, looking over your shoulder at Sunghoon, who was selecting the last of his items.

The man behind the counter smiles at you, typing his employee ID number into the cash register, "How's your night going?"

"Horrible," you say, making the clerk laugh even though you weren't joking.

"Sorry to hear that," he responds, scanning your items, "your total came out to…$6.12. Oh, hello, officer."

Despite not having done anything wrong, you nearly panic before remembering Sunghoon's unfortunate costume choice.

He nods at the man, setting his own items down on the counter, "Add these too. You guys take Apple Pay?" He asks, unlocking his phone.

"Oh, you don't have to pay for mine," you say, a nervous tremble in your voice.

Sunghoon shrugs, "No big deal."

Except it is a big deal. Sunghoon behaving like a boyfriend gentleman by paying for your items only made you like him even more, which is the exact opposite of what you need right now.

You sigh, taking a literal and metaphorical step back as Sunghoon taps his phone on the card reader. 

"A cop and a schoolgirl, huh? These couple's costumes are starting to make less and less sense," the employee comments, eyes darting between you and Sunghoon. 

"We're not a couple," Sunghoon responds, a little too quickly for your liking, but whatever.

The employee apologizes, embarrassed about his implications as he bags your items and wishes the two of you a safe trip home.

On the way back to Sunghoon's car, it dawns on you that Minjeong has stopped trying to get ahold of you, which is slightly worrisome considering that she's a person who wouldn't give up that easily. 

Sunghoon climbs into the backseat this time, mumbling something about needing to rest and stretch out before driving you home. He sets the bag down on the center console, grabbing a few of his items before propping himself up against the door.

You do the same, retrieving your own items from the bag before slumping into your seat. 

When you finally unlock your phone, a new voice memo from Yuna is waiting for you. Hesitantly, you hold your phone against your ear and hit play.

Yuna lets out a loud sigh, "So, you and Minjeong must have some sort of, like,  telepathic connection because she called me as soon as I hung up on you. Anyways, I told her our cousin was also at the party and was able to, uh, give you a ride home once the cops came. Oh, and I told her your phone died and that you'd call her, um,  later or in the morning. I'm not sure if she believed it, but she calmed down.

And, by the way, I meant it when I said I don't want to be involved in whatever this is after tonight. So, for everyone's sake, if something serious is going on, do not tell me about it. Get home safe."

You're not entirely sure if you deserve a sister like Yuna, who'd go against her own morals just to cover for you, but you're grateful you have her.

you [11:54 pm] : *you liked a voice memo*

you [11:54 pm] : thanks so much

you [11:55 pm] : i promise i wont involve u anymore. if minnie calls again u can just ignore it and lmk please

yuna [11:56 pm] : oh and she told me to let you know that she's safe. tho im sure that's not your biggest concern :/

Harsh but true.

You set your phone on your lap and tear open your pack of donuts, wiping away the powdered sugar that falls onto your blouse. Much like the blue raspberry slurpee, mini powdered donuts weren't exactly your go-to snack, but your options were limited, and you weren't in the mood to roam around the store any longer.

Suddenly, Sunghoon groans from the backseat and sits up, "Phone died."

Leaning over the center console, he plugs his phone into the car charger right underneath his navigation system, resting it on the dashboard before returning to his seat. 

The car falls silent, and as much as you want to start a conversation, you're not sure where to begin. There's so much you want to ask, but you refrain, biting down on your tongue so hard you're surprised the taste of blood doesn't fill your mouth.

Sunghoon leans forward again, this time resting his cheek on the side of your seat, "What'd you get?" he asks, staring down at your lap.

You turn your head to look at him, holding up the half-eaten pack of donuts for him to see.

"Can I have one?" he asks, already holding his hand out before you could even say yes.

You hand him one regardless, watching the powder fall from the pastry as he pops it into his mouth.

Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you find yourself narrowing your eyes at him as you ask, "Sunghoon, can I ask you something?"

He nods, gesturing towards the remaining donuts in a way that tells you he wants more. You hand him the remaining three, nodding back when he mumbles "Thanks" under his breath.

"How did you know that I'm allergic to peanuts?"

Sunghoon pauses, brows furrowing in utter confusion as he looks up at you, "What do you mean?"

"Earlier in the store, I was looking at the peanut candy, and you told me not to bother. I'm assuming you must've known I'm allergic, right?" You ask, fully turning around in your seat to face him.

"Um…yeah. I know."

"Okay…how?"

"I mean, was it supposed to be a secret or something?"

"What? No, of course not. Allergies are probably the one thing that shouldn't be kept secret," you respond, "I'm just curious about how you know. I don't think I've ever told you, and I can't imagine Minjeong randomly deciding to tell you."

Sunghoon awkwardly scratches the back of his neck as he avoids looking at you. It takes the tips of his ears turning pink for you to realize that he's embarrassed, which only confuses you even further.

Sunghoon shrugs, staring down at the snack you've just given him, "Whenever all of us would hang out, and there was, like, food involved, I just noticed you'd pay so much attention to the ingredients of whatever it was you were eating. At first, I thought it was a calorie thing, but you never really asked about the calories, only the ingredients."

"But, how'd you know it was peanuts specifically?" you ask, feeling embarrassed about how curious you were over something as silly as a peanut allergy.

"Remember the hockey team bake sale? The one I made those terrible brownies for?" He asks, continuing when you nod, "You were there, and I remember how excited you were to try the cookies that Jake made, but right before you bought one, you asked him if there were peanuts in them. That's when I knew."

You can't remember the last time someone had paid this much attention to you, and it's dangerous, considering how easily impressed you are by the smallest things. Sunghoon was by no means a friend of yours; you hardly knew anything about each other and often kept your interactions rather short, so his being able to pick up on your peanut allergy just by watching you was … different. Maybe even nice.

You don't even realize you've been staring at him until he stops chewing and stares back, unblinking.

You look away, retrieving your Slurpee from the cup holder and taking a long sip as Sunghoon watches.

"Can I ask you something now?" he asks.

You don't respond, side-eyeing him as you continue to sip your drink.

Sunghoon smirks, amused by your sudden silence, "Why'd you meet me in the bathroom?"

You pull the straw away from your lips, voice barely above a whisper as you respond, "To see what you wanted."

He nods, taking the cup from your hands, "You knew what I wanted," he says, pausing to take a sip of your drink, "and you still came; why?"

When you don't respond, Sunghoon lets out a loud sigh and sets your cup back down in its holder, "It's okay, YN."

"It isn't."

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. I guess we'll never know, huh?"

This is a test of your morals, and Sunghoon knows this. Every decision you've made tonight has led you to this exact moment. There's still enough time to redeem yourself and make an excuse for your actions. You could easily lie and say that making out with Sunghoon was just a result of being tipsy and vulnerable. But now, with the two of you in his car, sobering up and coming back down to your senses, you won't be able to use those same excuses.

Realistically speaking, what are the chances of your ex's finding out? Heeseung probably wouldn't care, but Minjeong was an entirely different story.

In your defense, they've been officially broken up for three weeks and three days, so you wouldn't technically be hooking up with her boyfriend. Right?

Sunghoon must've sensed the gears turning in your head because, after a few seconds of staring at each other in silence, he leaned over the center console and pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss is softer this time, nothing like how it was in the bathroom as if he's trying to coax you in and convince you it's okay, that you're doing nothing wrong.

You find yourself slipping under his spell, eyes finally fluttering shut as he gently swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. The faint taste of alcohol is still on his tongue, but he does taste much sweeter now, like the blue raspberry slurpee he'd just had. A part of you wonders if he'd done that on purpose as if tasting better would make you enjoy kissing him like this.

He pulls away, scooting farther back into his seat, "C'mere, climb over."

You do as you're told, slipping off your shoes with Sunghoon guiding you right onto his lap as you climb into the backseat. You can't help but squirm on his lap, and he can still sense a slight hesitancy in your actions, the way you shiver when he touches you, how you initially pulled back when he tried to kiss you again.

"You're nervous," he comments, eye flickering across your face.

You shrug, holding onto his shoulders for support, "I can't help it."

Beneath you, Sunghoon reaches down to unclip the handcuffs from his belt loop, "You're making it hard to focus."

"The fuck am I supposed to do, then?!" You didn't mean to shout, but your patience was starting to run thin. You felt guilty enough as it is, and Sunghoon reminding you of how nervous you are certainly didn't make it any better.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, undoing the handcuffs before grabbing your left hand. He tightens the cuff around your wrist, "Just trust me," he says simply. He sits up further in his seat, grabbing your cuffed wrist as he pulls down on the car's grab handle. He slips the empty cuff through the slot before gesturing for you to give him your free hand.

Fuck.

"Sunghoon…"

"Just trust me," he doesn't wait for a response, grabbing your wrist and bringing it up towards the empty cuff. It locks around your wrist with a click, causing him to smile in satisfaction. 

You're sure that with just the right amount of force, you could easily snap the handcuffs in half, but it's the thought that counts. With your arms and hands restricted towards the ceiling, all you can do is stare down at Sunghooon and await his next movement, his very calculated movement.

He presses his cold lips against your neck, simultaneously using his hands to slowly unbutton your blouse. The mark he'd left on your neck earlier was as prominent as ever, and it pleased him to know you were okay with him marking you up like this. He swipes his tongue against the sensitive spot, hardening in his pants when you squirm on top of him. 

His nails trace along the bare skin of your waist once he's finished unbuttoning your blouse, your bralette — that was a few sizes too small — fully on display for him. He's practically salivating at the site, his tongue sliding across his canines, completely in awe of your breasts spilling out of the flimsy, white material.

Sunghoon can't unclasp and slide off your bra, or else it'd be awkwardly hanging in the air, and trying to slip it through the handcuffs would take too much effort. Instead, he apologizes under his breath before his hands reach the front of your bra.

"Wait, Sunghoon—!"

Without warning, he stretches the fabric until it finally rips, seemingly pleased with himself if the cocky smirk is anything to go by. "Relax," he says, "I'll buy you a new one."

You don't have time to scold him because before you can even process what's happening, Sunghoon's tongue is swirling around your nipple. You swear at the sudden contact, arching your back and pressing your chest further into his face. It's almost embarrassing how such a simple act already had your head spinning.

His hands trail downward until they reach the hem of your skirt, slowly pushing it upwards until it's bunched around your waist. He traces the tip of his finger across your clothes cunt, pleased with how wet you've already gotten without having done much.

Your hips buck up into his hands on instinct, desperate for the friction, borderline craving it.

Sunghoon releases your perked bud in his mouth, looking up at you as he asks, "You want me to stop?"

"No, please don't." You beg.

"So this is okay then, right?"

If your wrists weren't handcuffed to the grab handle, you're sure you would've reached down and choked him for all the teasing. "Yes, Sunghoon, it's okay! Just hurry up and do something!"

Sunghoon shakes his head at you, mumbling, "So impatient." as he moves to lie flat on his back.

You stare down at him, confused, when he doesn't immediately start undoing his pants but instead positions his head right between your thighs.

It's funny, Minjeong claimed Sunghoon wasn't really into giving head and only gave it to her a handful of times during the course of their relationship, claiming he preferred to save it for special occasions.

But yet, here he is, willingly pushing your thighs further apart before pressing his lips against your clothed cunt.

The action sends shivers down your spine, and the handcuffs around your wrist suddenly feel tighter. He presses his tongue flat against you, groaning at the taste of your slick that's soaked through your panties. You grind down on him instinctively, your body trembling with anticipation as you squeeze your eyes shut.

"Fuck." You whisper, tugging at the handcuffs in frustration.

The sound of the metal clinking makes Sunghoon chuckle, pressing a final kiss against your damped underwear before mumbling, "Cute."

He makes quick work of sliding your underwear off your legs, tossing them to the 

front seat with a grunt as you wait for him to continue. Sunghoon settles himself between your thighs again, groaning in annoyance as you hover over him. "Stop fucking hovering," he demands, attempting to pull you down directly onto his face, "it's fine."

It's too intimate; you've never even sat on Heeseung's face before, and you're sure this isn't something he's done with Minjeong.

"But, I don't wanna cru- fuck!"

Sunghoon dismisses your worries, forcing you down onto his face and instantly wrapping his lips around your clit. You barely have any time to process that this is completely new territory for you, being this intimate with a man, sitting right on his face while he drags his tongue along your cunt; gathering your wetness and dragging it up towards your clit before wrapping his lips around it once more.

You let out an embarrassingly loud moan at that, leaning your head against the cold window as your face heats up. This only encourages Sunghoon even further, and his confidence grows, feeling bold enough to tease the tip of his tongue into your hole.

You jolt up at this, biting back a moan and wishing you could reach down and grab a fistful of his hair and properly ride his face. He licks another stripe up your folds, gripping your thighs and holding your body in place when you try to squirm away. 

"Stop trying to run from me," he groans into your pussy, the vibrations from his voice sending a shiver across your body. 

He presses his face further into your cunt, moaning at how much wetter you've gotten since he's started. For a man who apparently wasn't one to eat a girl out, he sure did seem desperate and eager to have you come on his face. In fact, it almost seemed as if he was doing it for his own pleasure rather than yours, which only turns you on even more.

After a few more slides of his tongue, you finally feel your orgasm approaching, your thighs tensing around Sunghoon's head.

"I know you're close," he whispers, placing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs, "go ahead, use me. I know you want to."

He's practically begging at this point, big, wet eyes staring up at you in pure adoration as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. That's your breaking point, the knot in your stomach finally untying itself as your orgasm washes over you.

You let out a moan so loud that your throat hurts shortly afterward, your wrists going limp in the handcuffs as you ride out your high.

Sunghoon doesn't let up until you're practically shaking from overstimulation, your body naturally twitching and squirming away from his greedy mouth as he cleans you up. He pulls away finally, his mouth and chin completely coated with your slick as he leaves a trail of kisses on your bare thighs.

You can't help but stare down at him in awe; he looks completely dazed as if he's running off, nothing but pure desperation and lust for you. You.

"Sunghoon," you say, trying to get his attention, "I…do you keep condoms in here?"

He flutters his eyes open, shaking his head, "No, but 7/11's just down the street. I can go-"

You interrupt him with a shake of your head, "I don't wanna wait; we don't need one."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm on the pill. Just, please, fuck me already."

It's music to his ears, really.

Sunghoon slides himself back up the seat, reaching up to release you from the handcuffs. You groan at this, having gotten used to them and quite frankly enjoyed the temporary feeling of restriction.

"You liked the cuffs?" Sunghoon questions, dropping your wrists from the grab bar.

"Yeah," you admit, "I liked it more than I thought I would."

He nods at this, and you realize now that one of the cuffs is still clasped around your wrist. Sunghoon also notices this and smirks as an idea forms in his head. "Turn around."

You comply with no further questions, groaning when he suddenly pushes your body down into the seat. He brings your arms behind your back, handcuffing you once more as he lets out a sigh of pleasure. "I knew you'd like it."

Sunghoon pushes your skirt back up, straddling himself around your things after pulling his pants and boxers far enough to allow his cock to spring free. He steadies himself with a hand on your shoulder, using the other to teasingly drag his fully-hardened cock across your slick folds.

Sunghoon shivers at this, cursing at the sight as he repeats his movements. He knows he won't last much longer; he was practically seconds away from coming in his boxers just from eating you out, so he really should quit with the teasing for his own sake.

Minjeong had never allowed him to fuck her without a condom, so this type of intimacy was new and overwhelmingly good.

He finally pushes himself into you, his tip alone causing you to bite down on the leather of his seat. You already felt so full, and he wasn't even halfway inside yet.

"Ah fuck," he groans, "you're so tight, you're so…fuck." He can barely even form a sentence, biting down on his bottom lip as he further inches himself inside of you.

You're not doing any better, feeling as if you're already seconds away from your second orgasm when he's hardly even done anything. It takes a minute before he's fully inside of you, pausing before he leans down and asks, "Can I move?"

"Please, I need you to."

Sunghoon nods at this, pressing a kiss against your ear before sitting himself back up. He angles your hips off the seat but presses your chest further into it, giving you (and himself) the perfect arch to comfortably slide in and out.

The first few thrusts are slow, as expected, but just enough to get you used to his size. Even this was all too much for Sunghoon; he was already dangerously close to his orgasm.

He didn't intend on speeding up his thrusts already, but he really can't help it. Everything about this feels too good. The way your walls perfectly wrap around him, and the way you're moaning and cursing for him to keep going are overwhelmingly good.

"Fuck." He moans, squeezing his eyes shut as he presses you down further into the backseat. He pulls his cock all the way out before pushing himself back in, which you seem to enjoy. He does it a few more times, mostly to humor himself since it's something he assumed you would've been annoyed by.

"Sunghoon," you pant, "I'm close."

"Already?" He asks, pushing your hips downwards until you're lying flat on your stomach.

He tries to come off as cocky and frustrated, but he really is grateful you're already so close to your orgasm, seeing that he felt like he could burst at any given second.

You nod, "Please, keep going."

He doesn't respond, opting to remain silent as you pull his cock out of you before ramming it back in at a pace much harder and faster than before. His thrusts are sloppy and borderline desperate, the sound of skin slapping and grunts filling the air shortly afterward.

The two of you could hardly keep your eyes open, too lost in the pleasure of your approaching orgasms.

Your's hits first, and Sunghoon's follows shortly after, practically filling you up to the brim with his cum. You've never felt so full and warm, heat spreading through your entire body as you slowly calm down and regulate hour breathing.

Sunghoon doesn't feel like moving, but he does anyway, slipping himself out of you with a wince, watching his cum drip out of you and onto the seat of the car. He curses at the sight, stopping himself from leaning forward and eating it out of you.

He undoes both of the handcuffs this time, helping you sit up as you avoid eye contact with each other. "Hold on," he says, re-adjusting his pants and boxers, "I should have a towel or something in the trunk."

Sunghoon steps out of the car, returning a minute later with a towel in hand. He leans down, prepared to clean you up, until you stop him, "It's okay, I got it."

He shakes his head, "I can do it for you."

"It's fine," you say, buttoning up your shirt, "I'd prefer to do it myself, actually."

Sunghoon finally gives in, handing you the towel before leaning over the center console and retrieving your panties from the passenger seat. He waits patiently for you to finish up, instructing you to just drop the towel on the floor as he hands you your underwear.

"Hey, have you…do you think you've sobered up yet?" He asks, watching as you slip your panties back on.

"Yeah, why?"

"Before I met you in the bathroom, I took a few bites of an edible, and I think it's starting to kick in. I think you should drive."

You sigh, mostly because this was not at all what you'd been hoping he'd say. "Drive where? To your place? Then where would I go?"

"I can pay for your Uber home."

"Sunghoon, it's past midnight, and I'm a girl; taking an Uber this late is too dangerous."

"Then drive back to your place; I'll sleep in the car and drive off in the morning."

You groan, "No, Minjeong might visit me in the morning. What'll she think when she sees your car in my driveway?"

"Dammit, YN, then just spend the night at my place. You can take my bed, and I'll sleep on the couch; just please drive us somewhere, for fuck's sake."

Bickering with Sunghoon somehow doesn't annoy you; in fact, it feels almost domestic. Going back and forth like a real couple.

"Fine." You say, climbing into the driver's seat.

Sunghoon's phone falls off the dashboard in the process, now charged at twenty-eight percent, and apparently, a missed text from Minjeong that was sent a few minutes ago.

The jealousy that fills your chest is downright abnormal; Minjeong is your best friend; there's no real reason for you to feel jealous of her in the first place. 

In fact, you shouldn't feel any sort of guilt at all; it's not like they're still together. They've been broken up for three weeks and three days. 

Three weeks. And Three days.

[sinfulspencer]

Flashed

Prompt: It’s too hot to wear clothes at home, so Reader walks around in her underwear. Spencer loses his train of thoughts at the sight.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (18+)

Warnings: light dom/sub dynamic (Dom!Spencer, Sub!Reader if you squint), dirty talking, hair pulling, light impact play, breeding kink, unprotected sex 

Words: 5.0k

A.N.: Horny Spencer. That’s it. Also, this is the first official Spencer Reid fic I have written since last year. It felt so good to write for him again. Written this with a prompt from the Summer Sunshine challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins. Thank you to @reidselle and @drgenius-reid for beta-reading this fic!

MASTERLIST. REQUEST GUIDELINES. TAGLIST FORM.

When Spencer asked you to move in with him at the end of the year, he was ready to face every challenge that life would throw at him. The first fights over laundry, the first fight over whoever almost set the house on fire, the first fights over the person that was supposed to remake the bed before going to work, the first fights over whoever left the TV on before going to bed… 

He was prepared for everything.

Spencer learned to cook (he wasn’t good at it, but he knew how to turn on the stove and boil some water, at least). He learned how to do laundry. He learned how to clean the floors without you falling on your own ass because he forgot to tell you that the ground was wet. 

But Spencer wasn’t ready for the summer. 

You moved in with him during the fall season, when it was still cold outside, and it was time to drink hot chocolate in front of the fireplace. You moved in with him when you were still wearing a winter jacket, leather boots and a scarf around your neck. You moved in when the wind was so cold that you could barely keep the window slightly opened in the bathroom after taking a shower to let the steam go out. 

Spencer wasn’t fucking ready for summer.

The hot weather was already taking a toll on his poor body and he hated it. Spencer despised the high temperatures because they made him sweat like a pig and he hated, more than anything, the feel of sweat under his armpits or behind his knees. 

Normally, before you moved in, Spencer would spend the whole time at home completely naked or wearing only underwear. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence, but it happened quite a lot. 

What was the problem, then?

Spencer used to walk around in his apartment in his underwear when he was alone, but you’re doing it while he’s in the house. He knew you paced around the house that way because you felt comfortable, but still. He was a stupid man, with hormones that rushed through his body like crazy.

You walked around your shared apartment with nothing on but a pair of panties that Spencer always wanted to rip off you and a stupid bra that made your breasts look even more delicious. 

And the sight had started to take a toll on Spencer for the worst. He was constantly horny, making it difficult for him to focus on simple tasks such as cleaning the whole apartment or doing laundry. 

He woke up one day and you already were parading yourself in your underwear, which made his morning wood even more difficult to take care of. He came home that same night and you were still in your underwear, which led him to forget he was supposed to grab some dinner with Luke because he ended up taking you against the bedroom door.

Spencer didn’t want you to wear clothes if you were too hot, but he also needed to learn how to keep his hands to himself whenever he saw an inch of your naked skin. He felt like a teenager, always eager to touch and ravish what belonged to him.

When Spencer tried to explain the situation to Luke, his colleague laughed right in his face. At first, Spencer was offended. 

‘Why are you complaining about seeing your girlfriend’s tits? You should be happy she feels comfortable around you.’

And Spencer was happy; he truly was. He was proud to know he made you feel good about yourself and allowed you to walk around the house almost naked, but he also felt like an idiot for getting a boner whenever he thought about coming home and knowing he’d find you dressed like that. 

Or better, undressed. 

That night, Spencer couldn’t wait to get home and tell you that he had a birthday party to attend next week. It was Penelope’s birthday and, as every year for the past ten, she had an entire day planned for her and her friends from work. There would be a huge pool party in a small agritourism she rented for the day, followed by a barbecue and a whole garden to explore. 

Spencer was excited to bring you there. 

You had been dating for over a year now and you couldn’t meet his co-workers and friends because you always had meetings to attend, or shifts that were incompatible with the nights the team hung out all together. 

“Y/N?” Spencer called out when he entered his apartment. 

The lights in the kitchen were on and he could hear you humming to a song blasting from the speakers. 

He dropped his bag on the floor and followed the sound of your voice, only to find you in nothing but your underwear. Again. You had your back turned and were swaying your hips to the rhythm of the music, making Spencer smile at the sight. Though the music was loud and almost hurt his ears, he was willing to tolerate the loud volume if it meant he could observe you in your element for hours on end. 

He was so enamoured with you even though you weren’t doing anything in particular. He fell harder for you everyday just watching you exist, breathe and live on your own.

But of course, the romantic thoughts in his head abruptly stopped when you felt his presence in the room and you screamed.

“Fuck! What the fuck, Spencer?!”

He didn’t want to laugh at your terrified expression, but a chuckle fell from his lips. 

“Did I scare you?”

You roll your eyes, dropping your apron on the counter. “No. I screamed because I was learning how to fry scream. Fuck yes, you scared me.”

Spencer walked to the other side of the kitchen counter and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a tight hug. You smelled like apples and he could see them in the corner of his eyes, all peeled up. 

“How was work? Did you get your stuff done?” you asked

Spencer nodded his head, kissing your temple without losing his grip on you. “Yes. I’m exhausted, though. I couldn’t wait to get home so I could relax and enjoy some time with you.”

You leaned forward, caressing his soft curls. “I bet you’re tired. You’ve been awake since five in the morning.”

As Spencer left the kitchen to get changed, he heard the music turning back on and he smiled. Your footsteps echoed in the room, and he smiled because he knew you were dancing to your favourite songs again. But still, there was a big problem that needed to be solved at that instant. 

You were still in your underwear and of course, he had noticed that. How couldn’t he? 

Spencer saw you for less than three minutes and yet, the bulge in his trousers made it difficult for him to think straight. He didn’t know how it was possible for you to turn him on that much, but you did and it was starting to make things harder for him.

If Spencer brought you to Penelope's birthday party, you were definitely going to wear a bikini. And a bikini is basically the same thing as your underwear… which meant one thing.

“Oh no.”

“Are you talking to me?”

Spencer turned around, attempting to cover the issue between his thighs with the jacket he brought to work that morning. 

“Uh, no love. No, I was just thinking about… something.”

“Care to share?” you asked with an innocent smile.

Spencer knew that smile was actually innocent; you had no ill intentions, but his brain was starting to play games with him. He was so turned on that Spencer thought every little microexpression on your face and every move you made were just actions to tease him and work him up. 

They were not. Or maybe they were.

“Sorry, uh… Yeah. Penelope invited me to her birthday party this Saturday.”

Your face enlightened at his words. “Oh! That’s so nice!”

“She asked me to bring you, too.” 

“I don’t like the tone you just used. If you don’t want to bring me, that’s…”

Spencer widened his eyes, realising that his words might’ve sounded rude. “No! I’m excited to let you meet all of my friends and co-workers, truly.”

“Then, what is it? I know there’s something that bothers you.”

You sat on the bed with your legs crossed, waiting for Spencer to continue but, he didn’t dare to move. If he placed his jacket on the bed, you would’ve noticed the painful tent in his trousers. If he didn’t move, you would’ve asked him why he wasn’t taking off his clothes and putting on more comfortable ones.

Too many thoughts were running wild through Spencer’s brain and it was difficult for him to gather them all, cast aside the naughty ones and focus on the more normal ones. 

It was tough not to stare at the curves of your breasts and how he could see the shadow of your nipples hidden behind the fabric of your bra. He has spent so many hours just licking and sucking your skin around your breasts, that he can still taste you on his tongue if he focuses hard enough. 

“Penelope has rented a whole place for all of us.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Sounds really nice. Is there a swimming pool involved? Is that why you’re worried?”

Spencer bit his bottom lip, forcing himself not to stare at the way your hair fell over your shoulders and covered the laces of your bra. A few days ago, he used his teeth to remove that same bra. It was a struggle not to think about that night, and he pathetically failed.

“I’m sure the place she rented is clean and…”

As you started to speak and comfort Spencer over his fear of germs, his mind wandered elsewhere. You moved to the centre of the bed to be closer to him and laid on it, with your arms behind your head and your body all stretched out. 

Your bra barely covered your full breasts and your thighs were much more visible, with all the little bruises still peppering your skin. The same bruises he caused two days before. The same bruises you begged him to create on. 

Spencer’s brain was starting to get even foggier. 

“Are you even listening to me, love?” 

You snapped your fingers in front of his face and Spencer dropped the jacket on the floor, quickly bending over to pick it up. Of course, he was listening to you, but he was just… thinking about something else while you were talking. 

“Hm.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Spencer turned away from you and looked down, frowning. His bulge was still there and getting more painful, but how in the world was he going to face you and ask you if you could help him out? He knew you would, in a heartbeat, but he felt miserable. 

How could he ask you to stop walking around his place in nothing but your underwear when he wanted to worship your body every hour of every day? How could he deny himself the sight of your stunning body? 

His eyes went straight to your breasts and of course, you noticed it. 

“Spencer!”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“My God.” - you started to say, sitting up on the bed - “You’re distracted! You can’t even finish a sentence or listen to me.”

Spencer hummed again, forcing his eyes to stay on your face. Unfortunately, they slipped down to your breasts once again - but that time, Spencer didn’t deny it. How could he? He had been so obvious since he arrived home, but you thought to yourself that maybe you were imagining things.

Or you were too horny, but you weren’t. He was. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“You’ve been staring at my breasts since you saw me in the kitchen.” you stated

Spencer sighed, turning his back on you again. “I’m sorry. They’re distracting.”

“Look at me, love.”

He lingered for a few seconds, covering his face with both hands. He didn’t want to turn around because he knew you would’ve teased him for hours on end, but it truly wasn’t his fault. It was his brain that tricked him into staring at your boobs and remembering all the things he did to you the night before and all the other days. 

It wasn’t his fault he had an eidetic memory and he could replay all your moments of intimacy together each time he wanted. How you looked when he kissed your neck, how you moaned when his tongue swirled around your nipples…

“You can look at them whenever you want, you know.” - you tapped his shoulder, kneeling behind him on the bed - “I’m your girlfriend, aren’t I?”

“That’s not the point, Y/N.” - Spencer replied, forcing himself to turn around - “You’re so distracting, I can barely think when you’re there… dressed up like that.”

You raised your brows. “Do you want me to change?”

“No!” - he exclaimed, before clearing his throat - “I mean… maybe. I don’t know, but I can’t keep getting hard because you’re half-naked.”

“What’s wrong with being attracted to me, love?” you asked with your arms crossed.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, you know, but it’s hard to be around you when all I think about is how I want to just…” - he took a deep breath before shaking his head - “I need to behave, I’m sorry.”

There was a moment of silence where you pondered over his words. He seemed so miserable and all because he was so attracted to you that he could barely think, that he could barely remember that he had other things to do other than you. 

That felt incredibly hot. 

Leaning forward, you placed a hand on his hip. “I want to hear what you’re thinking about right now.”

Spencer shook his head, covering your hand with his. “It’s too early.”

“It’s never too early to make love to your partner, Spencer.”

You were right, he knew that, but he also knew that if he kissed you and took you right there, he would’ve spent the whole night just trying to do it over and over until you were too tired to move or to keep your eyes open. 

Spencer sighed and looked down at you. “You drive me crazy.”

“And what’s the harm in that, love?” you asked innocently 

He moved his hands under your neck and forced you to look at him, gripping your chin with his fingertips. You went quiet, trying to decipher the expression on his face, though the tight grip was already a good hint of what he was thinking about.  

“No harm.”

“Exactly, so… What’s stopping you?”

Spencer knew nothing was stopping him from pressing your body onto the mattress and pounding into you. He had every right to do so because he knew you wanted it as much as he did, but still. There was an issue to fix and he refused to let his hormones get in the way, once again. 

But maybe just this time, Spencer thought.

You leaned your head against his palm, and closed your eyes when his fingers brushed over your cheek. He could look at you for hours, admiring how you basked in the sweetness of his touch that you found so comforting. 

“Nothing’s stopping me.”

You sighed, running your hands over his chest. “Good.”

Spencer unbuckled his belt and the metal clanking of it falling onto the floor brought an eager smile to your lips. Of course you smiled, because you were about to get exactly what you wanted since he came home. 

Little minx, Spencer thought. 

“You don’t need to hold back from what you truly desire, Spencer.” 

He drank up your words like they were the sweetest honey and he sighed. You were right; he didn’t need to stop himself from putting his hands over you if you wanted to be touched as well, but still.

“If you want to rip my underwear off me, you can do it.” - you muttered, slowly opening the buttons of his shirt - “If you want to fuck me like this, while I’m almost naked and you’re still dressed, you can do it.”

Spencer watched as your skilled fingers pushed his shirt off his shoulder and sighed, because there was nothing else he could do or say at that moment. You had him wrapped around your tiny finger and you knew it, which was why he loved you so much. You could’ve snapped your fingers and he would’ve dropped to his knees for you. 

“I just.. I just need to have you. At all times.”

“You can.” - you replied with no hesitation, only firmness in your voice - “I am here for your pleasure. Always.”

Spencer released a long sigh. “I know. I’m so lucky.”

Pushing his trousers down his legs to reveal his soft skin, you looked up at him with your lips turned into a wicked grin. You could see the emotions rapidly changing behind those eyes: lust, frustration, love, annoyance and desire. That was exactly what you wanted: you craved to drive Spencer crazy and you needed him to lose his mind over you. 

It made you feel powerful.

“You’re so pretty when you’re desperate for me.” you said 

Spencer leaned into your touch when you reached out for his face. “So are you, princess.”

But the tender moment was gone as fast it came, because there was no time to be nice to one another. Spencer wanted to wreck you and you wanted him to do as he pleased; you wanted the pleasure to consume him, and so it did.

Spencer kissed you for the first time since he came home and, of course, he had no time to be nice. His tongue pushed into your mouth without warning, but you let it as you laid down on the bed with the man on top of you. The kiss expressed all the frustration that had built within him ever since he came home and found you in the kitchen, wiggling your ass to the music and singing at the top of your lungs. 

His teeth dug into the soft flesh of your bottom lip and you whined, almost tasting blood on your tongue. 

“Let me be rough tonight.”

You grabbed him by the chin, staring right into those honey-coloured eyes. “Perhaps I was not clear with my words a moment ago, Spencer. I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

Spencer groaned at your words and pushed any rational thought out of his mind, allowing the frustration and profound desire felt for you to drive him. His pupils were blown wide with unbridled lust making you shiver, bringing the heat between your thighs where you so desperately wanted to be touched. 

Spencer kissed your mouth before moving down to your throat, attacking it with bites and gentle licks that made you whimper. 

“I’m going to ravish you tonight, my princess.” - Spencer whispered to your ear, running his hands all over your breasts - “And you’re going to take my cock like the good girl I know you are for me, yeah?”

“Yes. Yes, love.”

He moved his hands to your face, kissing the tip of your nose. “Hands and knees.”

You scrambled to turn around, struggling to move as his arms didn’t give you as much space as you needed. Spencer, ever so helpful, pulled your hips up when you managed to roll on your tummy. 

“Good girl, that’s it.”

You could feel his cock against your ass when he leaned forward to bite your shoulder and you moaned, closing your eyes. His nails dug into the soft flesh of your back, dragging your panties down your thighs before throwing them on the floor. 

Spencer’s mouth wandered down your neck, leaving a trace of kisses that started from your right shoulder and went down to your ass. He nibbled at the soft skin right below it before biting down, hard enough to draw blood. You yelped at the feeling, but didn’t complain as your hands scratched the blanket. 

Spencer pulled away for a second and traced the small wound with the tip of his index, earning a hiss from you. It hurt, but you wanted it to hurt - you promised you’d bleed for him, and bleed you did. 

“Good girl. So pretty for me.” - Spencer whispered, but you were more focused on the sound of a bottle of lube being opened - “I’m sorry, I’m so impatient to have you. I wish we could take this slow, but I can’t.”

“It’s okay, I know you’re desperate.” - you mumbled, moaning softly when his fingers breached your entrance - “It’s fucking cold.”

He chuckled at your reaction, smearing the lube all over your already wet slit. “Oops”

When you were ready, Spencer found no resistance as he slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside of you. He watched the way your walls welcomed him in and revelled in the sweetness of your whimpers and whines when you felt him. Spencer waited, watching you as you struggled to stay still for him. 

“Please, just… Get inside, for fuck’s sake.”

“Oh? Wanna take it all at once, my princess?” - Spencer asked, running his left hand through your hair - “Are you desperate for my cock? Then, fucking have it.”

In one hard thrust, Spencer bottomed out inside of you and you fell on the bed with your face in the pillow. You trembled when you finally felt every inch of his cock inside of you and you thought you were ready to fall off the edge in less than a minute. 

You were desperate for him every single time you had the chance to make love to him.

“Take it, princess. You wanted it and now you have it.”

Spencer watched you as you arched your back, tightening your grip on the bed sheets. A chorus of curses and moans flows from your lips as you try to get back on your knees, but his thrusts are too quick and harsh to let you get in position. So, again, you fell down with your face in the pillow. 

The pleasure quickly expanded through your body as Spencer never slowed down the pace of his thrusts, basking in the gentle sounds of your moans. His right hand travelled down to reach your ass, and before you felt it, you heard it - there was a brief moment of silence, followed by a loud smack and then a deep heat diffusing over your skin. 

It had been so long since he spanked you, but with that position, you couldn’t blame him.

The sensation heightened the pleasure within you. 

“Oh, fuck!”

Spencer moved both his hands on each side of your head and leaned forward, keeping his thrusts quick and regular. You could feel his body tense each time you tried to push back into him, to fuck yourself onto his cock. 

You were already close, desperate to ride that delicious end. 

“Please, more.” - you cried out again - “Please, I’m close.”

“Don’t you dare.” - he bit your earlobe - “Don’t you fucking dare come on my cock now.”

You whined at his order, not sure how you would be able to hold it and be a good girl for him. It wasn’t easy to hold an orgasm, especially if Spencer never stopped fucking into you with all the energy he had in his body. You were so close, you were right there but Spencer stopped his movements - and suddenly, you felt a warm tear slip down your cheek.

A single tear of frustration. 

Spencer forced you on your back, pushing you onto the mattress before sliding his cock back inside of you. 

“I want to see your pretty face when you come, princess.” - Spencer whispered, lifting your right leg and wrapping it around his own waist - “I want you to look at me as you come undone on my cock.”

His pace is as rough as before and you felt more tears spill from your eyes. Your hands quickly went behind his neck as you rolled your hips, a pathetic attempt at fucking yourself back onto his cock to feel more and more. 

You couldn’t form a coherent sentence. The only word that fell from your lips was a strained ‘yes’ that echoed in the room, encouraging Spencer to go harder and faster, to tear you down piece by piece.

And he looked fucking stunning as he did so. 

His lean body, his muscles were tense, a single strand of hair falling over his forehead and his tongue poking out in concentration… You wanted to get those details tattooed on your brain, on your body, every-fucking-where. 

“Such a good girl for me, huh? My pretty princess.” - Spencer whispered, looking down at you - “Always welcoming me with nothing on, knowing how crazy that makes me.”

Your lips opened slightly, more whimpers flowing from them. 

“Do you know how difficult it is to get out of here and not remember all the times I’ve fucked you against the door?” he said, his voice rough.

You shook your head, not sure if you understood what he said. 

“Fuck, you make me so horny. I fucking love your body.” - he mumbled, pressing his forehead to yours - “I always think about it and then I see dressed like that… It’s like you’re always begging me to bend you over and fuck your pretty cunt.”

You’ve always loved his dirty mouth, but that day it felt deliciously perfect. His thrusts were rough and faltering, which meant he was close to his orgasm too - you almost forgot you were close, totally enamoured by him and the way he spoke about you.  

“My slutty princess.”

You nodded with a smile, drunk on your lust for him. “All yours to use and destroy.”

You felt the pleasure built up again right behind your belly button and you knew you were close again. Spencer must’ve noticed it because he kept his pace quick, never changing the angle because he felt you clench hard around him each time he bottomed out. Your thighs were shaking around his waist and he could feel your heartbeat quickening under his fingertips. 

“My good girl.” - he mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment - “I can feel you’re close. Do you want to come on my cock, princess?”

He didn’t need a verbal answer, because soon your cries of pleasure were enough. You widened your eyes and threw your head back onto the pillow, crying out his name over and over as your nails dug into his shoulders. He could feel his skin breaking under your nails but he didn’t care. 

Spencer was too enamoured with you to realise how painful your grip was. 

“That’s it, gorgeous. You did so well.” he rewarded you with a kiss on the lips 

You barely felt it, drunk on the pleasure that he fed you. Your whole body was shuddering as Spencer helped you ride out your orgasm, but the more he thrusted, the more pain you felt stabbing you. You didn’t complain, though. 

You wanted it, you needed it and so did he. 

“Does this pretty princess want my cum deep inside of her, hm?” Spencer asked

You weren’t sure he heard you, but you managed to choke out: “Yes. Please, please, fucking do it. Please.”

A few thrusts later, Spencer granted you your wish. His warmth flooded you from the inside as he watched the way his body become one with yours, shivering with pleasure. His right hand pressed down hard below your belly button and you winced, feeling his seed run deep if that was even possible. 

It felt so incredibly good you could almost come again. 

“Ah, that felt fucking perfect.”

You closed your arms around his neck and caged him against your body, so that he wouldn’t be able to run away. Not that he wanted to, of course, but. 

Spencer didn’t move for at least five good minutes, struggling to catch his own breath while you stared at the bedroom ceiling with a grin on your face. You were deeply satisfied with yourself and you were sure Spencer was content, as well - though the conversation between you wasn’t over. 

You knew that not putting on clothes would’ve distracted him and maybe that was exactly why you never put them on when he was around in your shared apartment. It was fun to see him struggling between staring at your breasts or at your thighs, or forgetting that he had to hang out with his colleagues because he was too busy burying his face in your cunt or fucking you against a window. 

It felt good to be desired, and it felt even better knowing that it was the only thing Spencer was able to think about when he was away from you. 

“You have to stop walking around our place naked.”

You put a hand on his chest, gently pushing him upward. Spencer was still lying between your legs, but he was staring at you. 

“Naked? I am always wearing my underwear.” you stated 

Spencer bumped the tip of his nose against yours. “Which is dangerously distracting, Y/N.”

“Oh, you’re using my name in a conversation.”

“I’m being serious, princess. I can’t get a boner whenever I’m near you.” - he explained, pressing a kiss on your jaw - “Believe me, I appreciate the sight but… My brain needs some rest. And so does my penis.”

“Okay, alright. I’ll do my best to keep my clothes on.” - I decided to give in - “After six weeks of pure hell, I think you deserve a break.”

Spencer kissed your cheek, before biting it softly. “I appreciate it, my princess.”

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t do it occasionally just to drive you crazy.” you warned him 

“Oh, I’m fine with that.” - he said, rolling off your body - “But give me a heads up before doing it, okay? I wouldn’t want to come home with Luke and find you in your underwear.”

“Well… it could be fun. Maybe he’d like to join…”

Spencer covered your mouth with his’ before you could finish your sentence, but the kiss was interrupted by your loud laugh echoing through the walls. 

“Alright, Luke will never see me like this.” - you gave him a peck on the lips, pushing him off you before he could spread your legs again - “This sight is for your eyes only.”

TAGLIST @blvebanisters @koukatsuki @moesdraft

BROKEN TAGS @alelaeljfj @donttrustlove

[anniebeemine]

Hii. I couldn’t get reid and lila kissing episode out of my mind lol, can i request a fic with spencer getting interrupted (/kissed) while he’s rambling about something that annoyed him at work.. he’s so annoyed that he just keep talking but also keep kissing the reader back everytime until he’s just ‘wait why r u kissing me rn im literally so annoyed????’ but then he continues kissing her anyway lol. You can write however you want though! Love your fics so muuuuch!!!!!

i think about that scene at least twice a week (my roman empire tbh)

warnings: kithing

Spencer paced the length of your living room, his hands gesturing wildly as he ranted about whatever had set him off at work that day. “—And can you believe they didn’t cross-check the fingerprints before starting the entire interview process? It’s such a basic step in protocol. I mean, we wasted hours, hours, running in circles!”

You watched him, nodding sympathetically from your spot on the couch, though you could hardly get a word in between his breathless, frustrated tirade. He was adorable like this, completely wrapped up in his thoughts, even when he was annoyed. His brow furrowed, lips moving a mile a minute as he laid out every little detail of the day that had irritated him to no end.

“…It’s not even like it’s the first time, either! You’d think after all this time working together, we’d have this stuff down, but no, apparently—”

He paused as you stood up and crossed the room to where he was pacing. You had this urge to just... kiss him, mid-rant, to break through that whirlwind of frustration. Spencer glanced at you but didn’t stop talking. “—apparently, no one knows how to follow through with the simplest procedures anymore, and it’s not like I’m—"

Before he could finish, you cupped his face in your hands and pressed your lips to his, cutting off his next string of words. For a second, Spencer froze, mid-sentence, but then his lips moved instinctively, kissing you back without missing a beat.

You pulled back slightly, but his brain hadn’t quite caught up yet, and he kept talking. “—asking for perfection, just a little—”

You kissed him again.

This time, he melted a bit, his hands instinctively coming to rest on your waist. But just as you thought you had him completely, he pulled back, blinking, still distracted by the cloud of irritation hanging over him. “Wait, why are you kissing me right now?”

You grinned, biting back a laugh. “Maybe I thought kissing you might help.”

Spencer blinked at you again, clearly processing this new development. “Help... with what?”

“With getting you to stop ranting and relax for two seconds,” you teased, your hands still resting on his chest. “You were getting worked up, so I thought maybe I’d try to calm you down a bit.”

His frown deepened for a second, like he was trying to figure out whether or not he should continue being annoyed, but then he sighed. “I mean, I’m still frustrated about it, but…”

You leaned in, kissing him again, cutting him off before he could dive back into his complaints. He groaned softly, his hands slipping to your back, and after a moment, he gave in, his lips soft and warm against yours.

But then he pulled away again, furrowing his brows. “I really shouldn’t be kissing you right now. I’m so irritated.”

“Mm-hmm,” you murmured, pressing your lips to his again, and this time, he didn’t pull back.

He kissed you deeply, hands gripping your waist now, his frustration slowly ebbing away as he lost himself in the warmth of your embrace. When you finally broke apart, he sighed, resting his forehead against yours.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his tone much calmer now. “That... kind of worked.”

You grinned. “I told you it would.”

He huffed a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You really know how to distract me, you know that?”

“Anytime you’re annoyed,” you whispered, trailing a finger down his chest, “I’ll be here to help.”

Spencer gave you a small, amused smile, finally letting go of the frustration he’d carried with him all evening. “Okay. I think I’m officially done being annoyed.”

“Good,” you teased, leaning in for one last kiss. “Now, what were you saying?”

He shook his head, smiling against your lips. “I don’t even remember.”

And with that, the conversation shifted into something far more pleasant than his earlier rambling, Spencer finally letting go of the day’s annoyances, and choosing to focus on you instead.

[authorhjk1]

A car ride

(Baek Jiheon X Male Reader)

( @mechaknight-98 this is my part of the Jiheon challenge. I first thought of writing your fic's honeymoon as a continuation, but decided on something else in the end)

"Stop."

Your heart aches as you say that word. You were really hoping she would pass this time. You really did. But she made a mistake once again.

"What? No please."

"Jiheon, the traffic light was red."

"I-I didn't see it. Please?"

"I can't get you your driver's license, if you can't stop when you should be stopping."

"Just one last chance. I'm the only one of my friends who doesn't have one. And my parents will kill me if they hear I failed.... again."

You curse internally. Jiheon looks absolutely devastated. You obviously get, why she wants to pass this test. But you can't just give it to her. If she has an accident after you let her pass, who's fault is that gonna be?

"I can't do anything for you. You'll have to take the test again."

Jiheon seems like she's about to cry. But her demeanor suddenly changes, when she looks at you. Her face becomes a little colder as she gives you a stare. You're totally not prepared when she leans over. Too surprised, you don't attempt to stop her, when her soft lips meet yours. Instinctively closing your eyes, you remember that you sat in this exact seat before. At that time it was Hayoung.... But now you feel Jiheon's lips on yours. Nothing with tongue. But still incredible nonetheless.

When shee pulls away, you realize her eyes were closed too as you open yours.

"I-I hear what Hayoung unnie said and... I was hoping we could work something out too?"

You knew that that one mistake would probably put you into more bad situations. You were afraid to get caught, afraid that something would happen while she drives, because you let her pass, afraid that she might even blackmail you or something. But you didn't expect her to tell Jiheon. Who is now sitting in the driver's seat, her eyes on you, silently begging you to not let her fail.

"I don't know, Jiheon. Hayoung was a one time thing. And I'm still regretting it."

"I won't make you regret it. Actually..."

Jiheon hesitates, before she reaches over and places her hand on your lap.

"I want to make this the best day of your life."

You're stunned at Jiheon's sudden increase in confidence. Too stunned. Because when you look down, she already opened your zipper and is about to reach inside your jeans.

"Wait-"

She doesn't. You groan, when you feel her warm hand wrap around your cock as she fishes it out of your pants. Jiheon starts to slowly stroke your cock, while looking at you. You always adored her cute eyes smile, but now it looks a little mischievous. She must've caught you glancing at her lips, because she is now leaning forward again, capturing yours with hers. This time, you do feel her tongue graze your teeth, before you let her inside. The two of you share a heated kiss as the pace of Jiheon's handjob increases.

You realize you can't get enough of her as your hand lands on the back of her head, pulling her a little further towards you. You stroke her dark hair, while her tongue roams your mouth.

Soon Jiheon moves back a little, showing off that smile once more. The two of you look into each other's eyes. You both come to a silent understanding. Slowly, you start to push her head down, your hand still in her hair. Jiheon keeps eye contact, until she reaches your cock. Opening her mouth, she lets her lips wrap themselves around your tip.

With her hand on the lower half of your cock, Jiheon blows you right here in the car. At least Hayoung had the decency to suggest a private place. But you're unable to stop her now, the sounds she is making makes your eyes roll back. Her tongue plays around with your cock, just like it did earlier with your own tongue. Her soft lips are tightly sealed around your length and you can see her cheeks hollow, whenever she sucks particularly hard.

You can't help but reach out to put your free hand on her ass. You have to admit, when she got into the car earlier, you already checked out her shorts from behind. Now you get to feel her cheeks through the denim as her mouth warms your cock.

"You can pull them off, if you want."

Jiheon momentarily peaked her head up, before you push it down again. While she still sucks you off, you reach underneath her to unbutton her shorts. Pulling them off her, your greeted by a set of simple black panties. You let your hand roam her cheeks again, before it dives underneath the fabric.

"God...."

You groan as you feel Jiheon moan around your dick at your touch. Her pussy welcomes you as you push a finger inside. As she she keeps moving her lips up and down your shaft, you add another one. You start to finger Jiheon, while she gives you head. Your head rolls back against the headrest.

"Thee condom is in my right cheek pocket."

As you hear those words, it dawns on you that Jiheon came prepared. Did she fail on purpose? Or was she just expecting to fail again?

You fumble for her shorts, which you let carelessly drop to the floor earlier. Taking out the condom, you rip open the packaging. Jiheon reaches for it and puts in your cock. She lowers her head one last time, giving you a couple of sucks, before she sits back up again. But not for long. She climbs onto your lap and you reach upwards, making sure your hand is in between her head and the car roof.

Jiheon lowers herself onto your cock and you feel how her lips part around it. With a cute moan, she takes all of you inside, her eyes shut. You lean forward to kiss her neck, your hands now on her waist. Jiheon slowly begins to lift herself again, before sliding down on your shaft once more. She sets a slow pace at first, enabling you to take your time to enjoy the taste of her skin. You give her cheek a kiss. And then, you muffle her moans by kissing her. Both of your tongues dance tango in each other's mouth, while Jiheon keeps a steady pace.

Eventually, she starts to go faster though. You can feel how her moans into your mouth become stronger, louder. She starts to not just move up and down, but grind against you as well, making sure that your cock hits every single spot inside her. Her own hands are all over your shoulders and hair, trying to hold onto something.

The car is filled with moans and panting. And the sounds of Jiheon's hips meeting yours. Soon, the both of you can't keep your climaxes in check. The first to fall is Jiheon. Her legs shake and her pussy pulsates around you, before you feel her orgasm on top of you. She falls onto your chest with a satisfied cry. With her gorgeous face now buried in your chest, you move your hands to her ass. You make her move up and down once more. Her tight pussy now about to push you over the edge as well.

"Jiheon..."

You groan her name as you finally orgasm. The two of you stay locked together, enjoying each other's company.

"I have to tell you a secret."

Jiheon lifts her head and you look down at her.

"I passed the test a week ago."

Her eyes form half moons and her wide smile makes you unconsciously smile too.

[aajjks]

Love & War (m)

warnings: vèry lóng, híghly 18+ thèmès, èxplïcït smüt/sèx, únprótèctèd sèx, chèátíng, górè, múrdèr, prègnáncy, lônlíness, èxplïcït víölèncè, blóód, yándèrè cháràctès, bördèrlínè cóffèè àddïctïön, dàrk jüngkóók.

pairing: yandere police officer jungkook x fem!Barista reader

genre: strictly 18+ killer fic, rated M, Gore, thriller and erotica

word count: 6,000

note. My fingers have been hurting so much these days because I’ve been dedicating a lot of time to writing this. I started this draft on October 14 and now I have finally finished it today and I wanted to publish this because I have worked hard on this so much I’ve done a lot of extensive research so please guys like it and re-blog it. This is worth a read I promise please please send feedback and let me know what you think because I really need it.

•••

This case in particular is brutal.

As Jungkook sits in his office space, he’s looking at the latest crime scene pictures. And they are brutal, the man’s throat is literally spilling out, tongue cut off.

There’s so much blood.

Seodaemun-gu is particularly cold, and he’s been working overtime, as an inspector he’s been pretty busy thanks to a psychotic serial killer who’s been targeting a lot of men lately

This is the 17th victim.

Jungkooks been trying to piece the puzzle together, he picks up the warm cup of coffee and gulps down another sip, his furrows his eyebrows, he knows that it’s just one person doing all of these killings.

The pattern of killing is too similar, the gore, the marks, the method.

There is a familiar drug found in every single one of the victims bodies.

“Fuck.” He curses as he drops the pictures on the table, he needs to catch the killer before it’s too late, it is too late anyways.

October isn’t so kind this year, it is harshly cold. And this case has his whole attention. “I’ll catch you, psycho.” He mutters under his breath.

He will catch the psycho before Halloween.

Jungkooks grip on his cup tightens. He will make this killer pay. Just as he’s staring at the pictures again, his phone rings.

He sighs, averting his gaze to his phone as he picks it up, a small smile playing on his face. “Hey baby!!!” He grins speaking into the phone.

He loves his girlfriend so much. She’s the only thing that is making him happy these days.

“Hey koo!” as she greets him back, he cannot stop smiling, “ahh so are we still on for tonight?” He asks slyly, she makes him so happy.

There is a silence for a few seconds, but he waits patiently for her response, Jungkook holds the phone up his ear, waiting.

“Oh… sorry baby but no, I’m kinda busy tonight. You know this assignment is keeping me up all night. I can’t I’m so sorry.”

His smile falters.

“U-Uh..”

This is the third time.

“Umm it’s okay.” he replies, playing it cool but honestly, he’s a little upset because she’s been doing everything but spending time with him and he’s the one trying to solve a fucking murder case.

“Don’t be upset koo… I swear I’ll make it up to you.” He sighs. “It’s okay baby. I…understand.” Jungkook knows there’s no point in arguing.

He just misses her.

After talking to her for a few minutes, he finally ends the call. It’s time he refocuses on the case.

What he should be focusing on right now is catching the killer

And not the fact that his girlfriend is literally ignoring him for the past days, he’s barely seen her face this month, it’s bothering him, but he cannot afford to be distracted right now.

There cannot be an 18th victim.

He won’t let it happen.

•••

It’s lonely

But at least now he gets to go to his favorite coffee shop and drink, coffee in peace while staring out at the view, honestly speaking the view isn’t that special but jungkook likes to have some free time to himself just so he can reconnect with the world.

he enters the coffee shop, the bells above jingle as the door opens, it’s not too crowded today which is a good thing because the less the crowd the more he can focus and think.

Only a handful of people who are drinking and waiting for their orders as he approaches his table. Jungkook sits down on it, taking the chair out.

He scans the area. He likes how peaceful it is here because his job is not peaceful or neither cute, he has just come back from seeing a gruesome murder scene and this is exactly the detox He needs right now.

“Hey!!! Mr Jeon?” his snap of his thoughts when the barista calls out his name, he turns to look ahead, and smiles seeing the familiar face.

“Hey Ms yn! How’s it going? I think I’m just gonna have the regular.” He tells, looking at you, and you nod, you’re a sweet girl.

You’ve been serving him coffee for the past year almost, “well got it! Maybe I should get you some brownie too; of course courtesy of me.” You laugh, “looks like you really could use some sweetness in your life since you work so hard”

He laughs a little, shaking his head. “yeah you’re right. It’s been quite bitter these days.” He mutters to himself almost.

You walk away. impatiently, he waits for his coffee.. He might have an addiction, but it’s OK. Caffeine is necessary when you’re a police officer.

Sometime later you come back with his order. And he looks at you, thanking you.. “thank you Ms yn. Appreciate you for putting up with me.” he jokes, you give him a kind smile, “oh Mr Jeon how about you Just call me yn?” You insist and he almost blushes.

“Ahhh sure sure I will but only if you call me by my first name too.” He waves his hand, picking up his coffee to take a sip, and the smell of the brownie just fills his nostrils and he hums in delight

“The brownie smells so good and this coffee is awesome. Thank you so much.”

You wink in return, which has his cheeks actually burning up

You’re bold and you’re confident and that he appreciates about you because maybe you like him a little and you don’t really make an effort to hide the fact

“Okay.. I’ll go now have fun” he watches as you go away.

And he can’t help but feel his heart flutter in his chest.

•••

A few days later, his same routine just goes on and on, but there is not a single point that he has been able to catch, which could help him actually lead to the killer

And his days are only getting worse. There’s an emptiness that he’s starting to feel. Honestly, he feels like a failure.

A failure of a boyfriend and a failure of an inspector.

Jungkook steps into his dimly lit apartment, shrugging off his rain-soaked jacket. The warmth of the place feels hollow, as if reflecting the emptiness creeping into his chest. He slumps onto the couch, running his hands through his damp hair. His mind is a mess, caught between the horrifying images of the latest crime scene, Mina’s growing distance, and the subtle comfort he finds in your quiet presence at the café.

He pulls out his phone and stares at Mina’s name in his contacts. Something in him snaps, and before he can overthink it, he presses “Call.”

It rings longer than it should.

“Hello?” Her voice is clipped, impatient.

“Mina. Can you come over?” he asks out of desperation because he so lonely, and he needs to feel her love and her warmth.

“It’s late, Jungkook. I’m busy.” he understands it. She’s been busy, but it’s been so long since he’s been with her physically and she keeps on being distant.

He’s starting to break, his face falls, and his voice hardens at her sudden coldness.

“Busy with what?” he demands, the sharpness in his voice surprising even himself. he gripped the phone tighter and waits for her response with a thumping heartbeat.

There’s a pause, long enough for unease to settle in his gut. “Work,” she finally says, but the word feels rehearsed, flat.

“Bullshit.” He stands, pacing the small living room. “You’re lying to me.” he knows that she’s lying. Does she really think that he’s that stupid?

“Excuse me?” Her tone hardens, defensive.

“You’ve been distant for weeks,” he says, his voice rising. “The late nights, the dodged questions, the way you look at me like I’m a stranger. If there’s something you’re hiding, Mina, I deserve to know.”

She exhales sharply, a sound halfway between frustration and guilt. “You’re paranoid, Jungkook. You’re always at work, always chasing some killer. Maybe the problem isn’t me—it’s you.”

“That’s not an answer,” he snaps. “You think I don’t notice the way you’re pulling away? The phone calls you don’t take around me? If you don’t want to be with me, just say it.”

Her silence cuts deeper than any words could.

“You’re impossible,” she finally says, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. “You think everything revolves around you and your job, but you don’t even see what’s right in front of you. Maybe I have been distant, Jungkook, but can you blame me? You’re so wrapped up in your case that there’s no room for anything—or anyone—else.”

He clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms. “You’re deflecting. Just tell me the truth, Mina. Are you seeing someone else?”

Her sharp intake of breath tells him everything he needs to know.

“Mina,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

“I’m not doing this,” she says, and the line goes dead.

Jungkook stares at his phone, his breath coming in ragged bursts. The quiet of the apartment feels suffocating, pressing in on him from all sides. He throws his phone onto the couch and grabs his keys, his mind a whirlwind of anger, betrayal, and something he can’t quite name.

But for a fact, he knows that he’s lost Mina forever. And the realization dawns on him as he stares at his phone screen. He’s alone once again like he has been for a month.

But maybe this time, forever

And it doesn’t take him long to break down in his apartment. He’s so alone and maybe he will be forever. Why can nobody ever love him?

Is he not deserving of love?

•••

The coffee shop is dark except for the faint glow of a single lamp by the counter. You’re wiping down the tables, your movements unhurried, as if you have all the time in the world. The sight of you—calm, grounded—makes something in Jungkook loosen, just slightly.

You look up as he enters, the chime of the bell breaking the silence.

“Jungkook?” you say, surprised. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, just walks over to the counter and leans against it. “I needed to get out of my head.”

You study him, noting the tension in his jaw, the shadows under his eyes. “Rough day?”

He laughs bitterly. “You could say that.”

The way you look at him, makes his heart flutter in an abnormal way, maybe it’s the loneliness that he’s making behave like this but you’re gaze actually drives him crazy

You hesitate for a moment before stepping around the counter, standing a little closer to him. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” he says quickly, then softens. “I just… I don’t know. Everything feels like it’s falling apart.”

You nod, not pushing him for details. Instead, you reach for the bottle of whiskey you keep hidden behind the counter for nights like this. You pour him a glass and slide it across the table.

“Here,” you say. “On the house.”

He takes a sip, the burn in his throat a welcome distraction from the turmoil in his mind. “Thanks.”

You sit down beside him, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence. But you can feel his eyes on you, heavy and searching.

“You’re always here,” he says suddenly, his voice soft.

“Someone has to be,” you reply, your lips quirking into a small smile.

“You know Y/N? I’m so fucking alone. My girlfriend is probably cheating on me. She doesn’t care about me…. No one cares about me.” His voice breaks on the last sentence.

You look at him with pity and something deeper swimming in your gaze, but he doesn’t know how to pinpoint it, you urge him to continue so he does.

He chuckles, but it’s humorless. “It’s more than that. You don’t know what it means to me, Y/N. Just… knowing there’s someone who gives a damn.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you play it cool. “Well, you look like you could use someone in your corner.”

He turns to you then, his gaze intense, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The air between you feels charged, electric

“Why do you care so much?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitate, your pulse racing. “Maybe I just like seeing you smile.”

You’re the first person who has ever said that to him, and in that moment, he realizes that your silence is the only silence that doesn’t feel suffocating.

You look at him with such a deep emotion that it makes him go crazy, what are you doing to him? Why do you care about him so much?

You’ve been there for him since day one. You’re so comforting so kind and so nonjudgmental.

You listen to him rant, Complain, but you don’t say anything every time.

The more he looks at you, the more his heart keeps on thumping, inside his chest and alcohol just rushes through his body, and suddenly his pants feel so achingly tight.

The silence between you both is charged with tension, a tension that makes shivers go down his spine, you’re looking at him in a way that has him hallucinating that you want to lure him in.

He just wants to drown in your embrace, feel you in a way that no one has ever, he just wants to bury himself to hilt inside of you so maybe he can feel wanted again, and maybe he will feel safe for once.

His breath hitches, and before either of you can think better of it, his lips crash into yours.

•••

The back room of the café becomes a blur of heat and desperation as you both stumble in while he’s busy, shoving his tongue on your throat. It’s not tender—it’s raw, messy, driven by an ache neither of you can name. He breaks the kiss after it feels like hours, and he dips his head low and you feel his hot wet lips on your neck, His hands are rough against your skin, his lips leaving trails of bruises along your neck.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, your voice breaking as his hands grip your hips. It feels so fucking good. The desperation and the need is driving you insane.

You can feel his muscular body, he’s so perfect. You have dreamed of this moment for the longest time. But you never really thought that it would come true.

But as he kisses your neck, his lips burn on your skin. And that makes you realize that this is your reality. You are finally getting to live your dream.

You moan out his name again breathlessly gripping on his shoulders so tightly as he attacks your neck, whispers of his name leave your mouth, you’re getting breathless, just by him kissing your skin.

That’s how much you want him.

He doesn’t respond with words, only pulls you closer, his movements frantic. It’s as though he’s trying to drown in you, to forget everything outside of this moment.

His scent is so exotic, he’s always smelled so good whenever he’s visited the café, his son is so stronger it surrounds the whole café and right now you’re so close to him. It’s getting you high.

You know that he’s drunk, he’s so fucking drunk and vulnerable, but you cannot bring yourself to stop him, especially not when he pushes your panties down, his lips hot on your collarbones.

How can you bring yourself to stop him when he’s suddenly licking his fingers, as he takes them out you, you stare at him, they’re glistening with his Saliva.

He’s so beautiful and so handsome, and the most sexiest man you’ve ever seen.

You can only encourage him, and you do that, when he finally starts to push his two digits inside of you, your hips buck up.

You’re so fucking wet it’s embarrassing.

He scissors them inside of you, curling them inside your gummy walls, hitting that spot that has you seeing stars, immediately and he’s barely even started

“AGGH…” you moan out loudly, He groans at the sound, sinking his teeth in your neck once again, he’s so needy right now, you feel his body temperature burning.

You’re burning up too.

Jungkook whispers in your ear, “take off my boxers.”

And you do, after that you start stroking his hard thick length, he’s so big, as you stare down at it, you gasp because it’s leaking already and it’s angry.

He’s been neglected for the longest time, you actually hate his girlfriend, but good for you. You get to feel him inside you like this.

He’s hungry for this. As you finally start to do the magic of your hands, he lets out a guttural moan, it’s so loud, and it rings in your ears.

you love the sounds he’s making right now. He sounds so hot almost like an animal in heat.

But he starts fucking your hand furiously, you lift his head up from your neck to look at him and you just want to keep him with you forever

He’s so beautiful.

He’s drooling, his eyes are closed as he feels the pleasure that you are giving him, the pleasure that he’s been denied for the longest time.

“T-Thank you so much for this because you have no idea how much I need this you have no idea how much I need you… yn- ngh… I’ve been dreaming about this… how about you… and you feel so much better than my imagination”

Jungkook cannot wait anymore though, just as he’s close, he wraps your legs around his waist and gently removes your hand, kisses you hard as he shoves his cock in your warm pussy.

“Let me feel your pussy, I need you, baby…” he begs, you grip his shoulders and kiss his cheek. He lets out a shuddering breath once your heat cages him in.

He starts moving his hips at a really fast pace, he’s jackhammering into you, Jungkooks moaning is echoing throughout the back room.

“NGHH mhmm AHHHG…. AHHH…”

The pleasure that you’re feeling right now is the most that you’ve ever felt in your life and you never knew that you could feel this good while having sex.

The sex with him is feeling so hot, so good and so fucking raw.

He’s so big you can see it bulging from inside of you, you gasp.

“Cum… please Cum inside me.”

You press desperate kisses on his neck, and on the hollow of his throat He’s so vocal about this. So hot. And then he lets out a desperate mewl as he cums inside your cunt.

It’s hot, thick and full as he fills you up to brim.

But it’s starts leaking out because it’s so much, you can feel it running down your thighs.

“You felt a-ah… so fuckin good, yn.”

When it’s over, the two of you lie tangled together on the worn couch, your breaths mingling in the quiet.

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, his voice hoarse. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, resting a hand on his chest. “Don’t apologize.”

He looks at you, his eyes searching for something he can’t find.

“You’re not alone, Jungkook,” you say softly. “Not anymore.”

But as he drifts off to sleep, your words echo in his mind, and unease curls in his chest.

•••

The first rays of sunlight filter through the cracks in the blinds, casting faint streaks across the cramped backroom of the café. The room is quiet, save for the sound of Jungkook's breathing. He lies awake on the couch, staring at the ceiling, your head resting on his chest, your arm draped over him like a lifeline.

The memories of the night before play in his mind on an endless loop-your soft moans, the way your body had responded to his touch, how you had whispered his name like a prayer. He feels a pang of guilt, but not for what he did. He doesn't regret it. Not the way your warmth had pulled him from the cold void he'd been living in, not the way you made him forget the weight of the world for a few fleeting hours.

What eats at him is the realization that he used you-your body, your kindness, your feelings— for his own selfish needs. And yet, as much as the guilt gnaws at him, a darker truth lingers: it had felt so good. You had felt so good.

Your breathing changes, pulling him from his thoughts. You stir slightly, your fingers twitching against his chest before you lift your head to meet his gaze.

"Good morning," you say softly, your voice thick with sleep.

He swallows hard, unsure of what to say.

“Morning,” he replies, his voice quieter than he intends.

You sit up slowly, the blanket slipping from your shoulders as you adjust yourself on the edge of the couch. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the weight of what happened between you hanging in the air.

“Are you okay?” you ask finally, breaking the silence.

“I don't know,” he admits, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

You bite your lip, looking down at your lap. "Last night..."

“Wasn't supposed to happen,” he says, cutting you off.

You flinch slightly but force a small smile. “I know,” you murmur.

He sighs deeply, sitting up and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don't regret it,” he says finally, his voice low.

Your head snaps up, your eyes wide with surprise.

“I don't regret being with you,” he continues, his tone softening. “But I regret... I regret that I used you. That I let my emotions... my loneliness take over. You didn't deserve that.”

You shake your head, reaching out to touch his arm. “Jungkook, you didn't use me. I wanted it too.”

He looks at you, his dark eyes filled with conflict.

“I know you did. But that doesn't make it right.”

You hold his gaze, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his expression. “It's not wrong either,” you whisper.

He exhales sharply, standing up and pulling on his jacket. “I need to think," he mutters. “I need to figure out what I'm doing.”

Jungkook walks through the quiet streets, the early morning chill biting at his skin. His mind is a storm of emotions-shame, guilt, longing. He knows he should be thinking about Mina, the case, about everything that's been spiraling out of control in his life. But all he can think about is you.

You, with your soft smile and kind eyes. You, who had welcomed him without judgment. You, who had given him a moment of solace in the chaos.

He doesn't regret being with you, but he regrets what it means. He regrets how easily you've slipped into the cracks of his carefully constructed walls.

And yet, even as he walks away, he knows he'll come back to you. He always does.

Meanwhile, you’re feeling the same… after he leaves you at the door as it shuts.

You sit on the couch long after Jungkook has gone, staring at the spot where he had been just minutes before. Your heart feels heavy, conflicted. Last night had been everything you'd ever wanted, but now it feels tainted by his guilt, his regret.

Still, you can't bring yourself to regret it. Not when it had felt so perfect, so right.

But as you move to the front of the café, preparing for the day ahead, you can't shake the feeling that something has shifted between you and Jungkook. And you're not sure if it's for better or worse.

But you do know that this was only the beginning and this is not gonna end ever and you don’t want to.

•••

A month goes by, he hasn’t visited the cafe after that night woth you, he’s started to get over Mina, The investigation starts to grow worse, the killer more mysterious than ever. Jungkook’s focus shifts entirely to the case, but the memory of that night with you lingers, a dangerous distraction. He avoids Mina entirely, his guilt toward her eclipsed by the tangled emotions he feels when he sees you.

It’s only a matter of time before everything comes crashing down.

•••

The night Jungkook slept with you still lingers in his mind, haunting him like a half-remembered dream, a moment of clarity and chaos all at once. He tells himself it was a mistake, that he was drunk, confused, and in need of something—someone—that wasn’t Mina. But he knows deep down, it was more than that. It was the kind of intimacy that made him feel human again, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Yet, when he wakes up the next morning, reality settles back into place. He tries to push you out of his thoughts as he makes his way to work, but every time he passes by the café, he finds himself looking for you, wondering if you’re there. The guilt gnaws at him, but the emptiness inside makes him think about you again, just for a moment.

What Jungkook doesn’t know, what he can’t see, is that the girl behind the counter, the quiet barista with the warm smile, has already made up her mind. You’ve already planned it out.

Mina is your problem now.

Mina never did anything wrong. She never even knew the darkness that lurked beneath your calm exterior. To her, you were just another face behind the counter, the one who always smiled, who always gave her the right change with a soft chuckle. She was just another customer. But that was before you realized she was still with Jungkook, and that was the last straw.

Mina knows about your crush on Jungkook because, on several occasions in the past, Jungkook had brought her with him when he visited the café. It wasn’t frequent, but enough for Mina to catch on to the subtle tension that simmered between you and him.

You hadn’t meant to make it obvious, but every time Jungkook walked into the café, your demeanor shifted. You’d become a little more flustered, your heart would race, and your eyes would light up, especially when he greeted you with that easy smile. It didn’t take much for someone like Mina, who was always looking for cracks in the façade, to notice.

The first time Jungkook brought her in, you did your best to be casual, to act as though you weren’t paying any special attention to him.

But Mina, watching from across the table, saw how you seemed a little more eager, a little more careful with every cup you made for him. She observed how your voice softened when you spoke to him, how your hands trembled just slightly as you handed him his order. It wasn’t hard for her to figure it out: there was something more than just friendship between you two, even if it was unspoken.

After that day, Mina started coming in more frequently when she knew Jungkook would be there.

She made a point of sitting at a table near the counter, watching the subtle interactions between you two, almost like a game. It gave her a sense of satisfaction—of control—to see how much you cared for him, how much you tried to hide it.

What really gave Mina the final piece of the puzzle was the day Jungkook brought her in again. This time, the way you interacted with him was different. You didn’t hide your feelings as well. You weren’t as guarded. Maybe you thought Jungkook had stopped noticing, that you could just be yourself around him without it being awkward, but Mina saw through it.

She watched you smile at him a little too brightly, watched how your voice softened when you said his name.

That’s when she knew. She had been right all along.

From that point forward, Mina began to play with this knowledge, poking at you, dropping little comments here and there about Jungkook. It wasn’t out of genuine interest in your well-being.

No, Mina was the type who thrived on power, on knowing things others didn’t. She knew you had feelings for Jungkook, and she wasn’t above using that against you.

Mina wasn’t a regular customer, but she made it a point to come by whenever she knew Jungkook would be there. She’d sit back, watch, and wait for you to slip up—because she knew it wouldn’t be long before you showed just how much you cared.

You watch her from the back of the café, your fingers tightening around the edge of the counter as she orders another coffee, laughs too loudly at something a friend says, her smile a little too bright.

You’re not the type to go unnoticed, not anymore. You’ve made sure of it. But this girl? She’s everything you’re not. Beautiful, untainted. Her life is easy—untainted by secrets or shame. But that life is a lie. And she doesn’t deserve it.

The tension builds like a slow-burning fuse as the afternoon wears on. Your hand shakes as you wipe down the counter, the hum of the coffee machine loud in your ears.

Mina doesn’t know how much you hate her. Doesn’t know that she’s the one thing standing between you and what you’ve convinced yourself is yours. Jungkook.

The thought of him with her, the way he always turns to her in the café, makes your stomach twist. You wish she’d just disappear. So, that’s exactly what you’ll do.

•••

The café is quiet as you lock up for the night.

The faint hum of the city lingers in the distance, but it doesn't reach your small sanctuary.

It's been a month since the night with Jungkook, and though he hasn't been back to the café in days, the memory of him is enough to send a shiver through your body.

You've noticed changes-small ones at first. A nauseous unease in the mornings, a fatigue that you can't shake. Tonight, though, you can't ignore the obvious anymore. Your period is late

far too late.

When you get home, you head straight for the drawer where you hid the pregnancy test. It had been an impulsive purchase a few days ago, something you hadn't wanted to face until you

absolutely had to.

The bathroom feels impossibly quiet as you take the test, sitting on the edge of the tub and waiting for the results. Seconds stretch into an eternity. When the lines appear, bold and unmistakable, the air leaves your lungs.

Your mind races. The weight of the word sinks into your chest. It's him. Jungkook. That night.

The night when everything felt like it could finally belong to you. But now, this?

Panic bubbles inside you, but it's swallowed by something darker, more visceral.

Mina's face flashes in your mind, and it's as if the pregnancy test has turned her shadow into a living, breathing entity. She's always there, always hovering around the edges of your thoughts, a reminder of what you'll never truly have.

She broke up with Jungkook that night. You've pieced that much together. She left him, but her presence still looms over you.

It's her fault you feel this way. Her fault that Jungkook can't be entirely yours.

Before you realize it, you're out the door again, the pregnancy test left abandoned on the counter. The idea takes root in your mind with terrifying clarity.

Mina's address isn't hard to find. She used to post pictures from home-soft, curated glimpses of her perfect life.

The city streets blur as you drive. Your fingers tighten on the wheel as adrenaline floods your veins.

When you pull up to her house, the world feels unnervingly still. The house is modest but exudes her curated style, clean and pristine. A pang of rage surges through you.

You knock softly at first. When there's no response, you knock louder, your fist trembling against the wood. Finally, the door opens.

Mina stands there in a loose sweatshirt and leggings, her hair tied back, and her expression instantly hardens when she sees you.

“What are you doing here?” she says sharply, her voice cutting through the air.

You don't answer. You push past her, stepping into her living room without waiting for an invitation. She whirls around, glaring at you.

“Excuse me?” Mina snaps, her hands on her hips. "You can't just barge in here-"

But you're not listening. Your focus sharpens as you glance around the room, taking in the perfection of it all. Everything she's built, everything she's taken from you without even knowing it.

“You ruined him,” you say suddenly, your voice low and trembling.

Mina freezes, her brows furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

“You don't deserve him,” you continue, stepping closer. The words spill out, raw and jagged. You never did. You threw him away.”

Mina's eyes widen, and for the first time, there's a flicker of unease in her expression. “Are you insane?” she says, backing up slightly. “This has nothing to do with you.”

But it does. It has everything to do with you.

The knife is in your pocket, cold and heavy against your palm as you pull it out. Mina's eyes go wide, and she lets out a sharp gasp.

“Y/N, stop. What are vou doing?” she says, her voice trembling now, you see fear in her eyes, and that is so satisfying

“I'm taking back what's mine,” you whisper, stepping forward.

Mina screams as you lunge, but she's fast. Her nails rake across your arm as she tries to push you away, drawing blood. The knife slips from your grasp briefly, clattering to the floor, and the two of you struggle, crashing into the coffee table.

She fights harder than you expected. Her fists hit your sides, her nails digging into your skin.

But your rage is stronger, a blinding force that drives you forward.

Finally, you grab the knife again, plunging it into her chest. The scream chokes in her throat, her hands flailing weakly as you press the blade deeper.

The fight leaves her body, her eyes glazing over as she crumples to the floor.

You stand there, panting, your body trembling with adrenaline. Blood pools around her, staining the pristine floor, and it's then you notice the streaks of red on yor wn arms.

Her nails. She scratched you.

Your breath quickens as the reality sets in. You grab a dishcloth from the kitchen, wrapping it around your arm to staunch the bleeding.

You leave quickly, your mind racing. The blood you've left behind is a risk, but it's done now.

She's gone.

As you drive away, the silence in the car feels deafening. You glance at your bandaged arm, your chest heaving with a mix of fear and exhilaration.

It's over. She's gone.

But the faint, nagging thought of the blood you've left behind lingers in the back of your mind, a seed of doubt that you can't shake.

•••

The next day, Jungkook’s phone rings with the news. Mina’s body is found in at her home reported by the neighbors, discarded like a broken toy. The details of her murder are grisly—so much blood, so many signs of a struggle. But there’s something more. Something that gnaws at him,

He doesn’t know it yet, And Jungkook has no idea how close he is to the one thing he’s been hunting.

As he visits the scene of the crime, his heart heavy with guilt over his own sins, the truth starts to swirl around him, each clue pulling him closer to you. But you are always just one step ahead.

And you’re not finished yet.

•••

Jungkook stands at the edge of the crime scene, Mina’s home. Familiar home, his mind racing as he watches the forensic team finish their work. Mina’s body has been taken away, but something about the scene feels unfinished—unnerving. As the team packs up, the lingering sense of wrongness creeps into his chest.

He takes a few more steps into the room, his eyes scanning every inch.

The silence is heavy, thick with the smell of blood, and something else, something he can’t quite place. He feels like he’s being watched even though he’s the only one left. His gut instinct tells him there’s more to find, something hidden beneath the surface.

“Detective Jeon,” a voice calls out, pulling him from his thoughts. He turns to see Officer Lee, the junior detective, holding a small evidence bag.

“What is it?” Jungkook asks, his voice tight with impatience.

“Sir,” Lee continues, stepping closer. “We found something odd in the kitchen area, near the counter. It’s fresh blood, but it doesn’t match the scene at all. It’s… different.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “What do you mean, different?”

Lee’s face shifts, his expression nervous. “It’s not the same consistency as the blood we’ve been seeing from the victims. It seems… newer, almost as if it wasn’t part of the original violence.”

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat. The blood. It’s almost like the killer made a mistake. He follows Lee to the kitchen, where they find the dark stain on the floor. It’s small but unmistakable, a sharp contrast against the faded red of the rest of the scene.

He kneels down, his gloved fingers brushing the edges of the stain. The blood is darker than what they’ve seen from the victim, almost as though it’s been there for some time—but that doesn’t make sense. He knew Mina was killed just hours ago.

“Is this from the victim?” Jungkook asks, still focused on the stain.

“We don’t think so,” Lee replies, his tone uncertain. “It’s not consistent with the rest of the scene.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “It looks fresh.”

His instincts kick in. Something is off, and he knows it’s not just the stain. His gaze lingers on the blood. He needs to know more. If this is part of the same pattern, then they’re dealing with something entirely different.

“Send it to forensics,” he orders. “Get it tested immediately. I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Hours pass before Jungkook finds himself in the sterile white of the forensics lab, waiting as the technician works quickly to process the blood sample they’ve retrieved from the crime scene.

He stands by, his mind on edge, feeling the pull of the unknown tightening its grip. The room is quiet, save for the hum of machinery and the faint clicking of keyboards as the technician runs the test.

Finally, the technician hands Jungkook a printed report. Jungkook takes it with a calmness he doesn’t feel, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he scans the document.

The results are like a slap in the face.

The blood—this blood—belongs to a woman.

His chest tightens as he rereads the details. But it’s not just any woman. The test shows the presence of hormone levels consistent with early pregnancy.

A pregnant woman.

The words blur before his eyes. His mind struggles to make sense of it. Pregnant? How could it be?

This isn’t just some random woman who happened to get involved in the case. This is a pregnant woman. The kind of detail that changes everything.

He stares at the report in stunned silence. Mina’s murder doesn’t fit with any of the previous patterns, but this… this is a whole new level of complexity. And, despite his growing confusion, Jungkook can’t shake the nagging thought that the killer might be someone unexpected—someone who’s been hiding in plain sight.

Jungkook’s mind races as he pieces everything together. The fact that the blood belongs to a pregnant woman is huge. It feels like a lead that could take him in an entirely new direction, but there’s something else gnawing at him. A suspicion he can’t quite shake.

It’s the note he found on Mina’s body. The strange connection between the killings. Every victim has had a twisted background, all male, all with histories of violence or crime. But Mina… she was an exception. A woman. And she wasn’t involved in the same kind of criminal activity.

His gut is telling him something isn’t right. He’s seen this before—when his intuition is pushing him toward an answer, even when he doesn’t have all the pieces. And now, with this new revelation about the blood, that nagging feeling is only growing stronger.

Could the killer be a woman? Could the killer be pregnant? The thought unsettles him, but it makes sense. Perhaps this is the killer’s twist—targeting those who have wronged others, who’ve hurt people in the most vicious ways, while hiding behind a carefully crafted disguise.

As he stands there, staring at the test results, a chilling realization slowly begins to creep in. He hasn’t even begun to connect the dots. He hasn’t yet put it all together.

And the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes the one thing that’s been staring him in the face all along: someone close to him could be hiding this terrible secret.

But he doesn’t know who that is yet.

The blood. The pregnancy. The mysterious nature of Mina’s death—everything points to a killer who’s been hidden from view. Someone who’s not just playing a part in this sick game but is actively controlling the strings.

Jungkook takes one last look at the report in his hand. The piece of paper seems to burn with the weight of its revelation.

“Pregnant,” he mutters under his breath, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. “Who could it be?”

Jungkook’s thoughts are muddled. He hasn’t even considered the possibility that someone he knows could be involved. But the facts keep leading him in that direction.

With every passing second, the answer feels closer, yet farther away. All Jungkook knows for certain is that this case is far more complicated than he ever imagined.

And the killer is closer than he thinks.

•••

That night? he decides to visit his favorite coffee place again

The café is dimly lit, the warm golden glow of the overhead lights casting long shadows across the empty tables. It’s late—well past closing time for most places—but you’re still here. You’ve started staying later than usual, lingering in the quiet of your sanctuary, unable to go home to the lingering guilt of what you’ve done.

You’re wiping down the counter when the bell above the door chimes. The sound startles you, breaking through the silence. When you look up, it’s him.

Jungkook.

He’s standing in the doorway, his hair slightly disheveled, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. It’s been a month since that night, and he hasn’t been back since. Seeing him now feels like a punch to the chest, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

“Jungkook,” you say softly, your voice barely audible. “You’re here again after a long time..”

He offers a small, tired smile as he steps inside, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. “Hey,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “I know it’s late… but are you still making coffee?”

You nod quickly, trying to push down the rising emotions threatening to choke you. “Of course. For you? Always.”

He sits at his usual spot near the counter, leaning back in the chair as he watches you move around the machine. The silence between you is thick, weighted with everything unsaid.

As you hand him the cup, his fingers brush against yours. The contact is brief but electric, sending a shiver up your spine. He takes a sip, his eyes closing as he lets out a soft sigh.

“This is exactly what I needed,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

You can’t hold it in anymore. The words burst from your lips before you can stop them. “I need to tell you something.”

He looks up at you, his brows furrowing slightly. “What is it?”

Your hands tremble as you grip the counter for support. You’ve been rehearsing this in your head for days, but now, with him sitting there, the reality of it feels overwhelming.

“I’m… I’m pregnant,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, his expression is unreadable. He sets the cup down slowly, staring at you like he’s trying to piece together what you just said.

“What?” he says finally, his voice low and filled with disbelief.

You swallow hard, nodding. “It’s yours, Jungkook. From that night.”

His breath hitches, and he leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “Pregnant,” he repeats, almost to himself. The weight of the revelation sinks in, his eyes flicking to your stomach before meeting your gaze again.

“That’s… that’s a lot to process,” he says finally, his tone careful.

“But.. promise that I won’t abandon you… I will take full responsibility.. don’t worry… I’m so sorry”

You’re about to say something—anything to break the tension—when his gaze drops to your arm. His brows knit together as he notices the faint, raw scratches peeking out from beneath your sleeve.

“What happened to your arm?” he asks, his tone shifting, more alert now.

Your heart skips a beat, panic rising in your chest. You pull your sleeve down instinctively, hiding the marks. “It’s nothing,” you say quickly, too quickly.

He doesn’t look convinced. His eyes narrow slightly as he studies you. “Those look fresh,” he says, his voice sharp. “Did someone hurt you?”

“No,” you say firmly, forcing a laugh. “I’m just clumsy, that’s all.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. He just watches you, his gaze searching, like he’s trying to read the truth in your expression.

“Y/N,” he says finally, his voice soft but insistent. “If something’s going on, you need to tell me.”

You shake your head, plastering on a smile that feels more like a mask. “It’s nothing, really. You don’t have to worry.”

But he doesn’t look convinced. His jaw tightens, and he leans forward slightly, his fingers drumming against the edge of the table.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice low.

You nod quickly, avoiding his gaze. “I promise. Everything’s fine.”

He doesn’t press further, but the tension in the air is palpable. You can feel his eyes on you as you turn away, pretending to busy yourself with cleaning.

The rest of the conversation is stilted, awkward. He finishes his coffee quickly, his movements stiff and deliberate.

“I should go,” he says finally, standing up and sliding the cup toward you. “Thanks for the coffee.”

You nod, forcing a smile as you watch him leave. The door swings shut behind him, and the silence that follows is deafening.

You lean against the counter, your legs trembling beneath you. The scratches on your arm burn as if in reminder. You knew this moment would come, but now that it has, you feel the weight of everything crashing down around you.

He doesn’t suspect you—not yet. But the way he looked at you, the questions he asked… it’s only a matter of time.

•••

Jungkook sits at his desk in the dimly lit precinct, the case file for Mina’s murder spread out before him. His mind is a storm, every detail looping back to the one piece of evidence he can’t shake—the fresh blood at the crime scene, identified as belonging to a pregnant woman.

He had brushed it off at first, thinking maybe it was some unknown accomplice or a bizarre twist in the killer’s pattern. But now, after his late-night visit to the café, everything feels like it’s coming together in ways he wishes it wouldn’t.

His hands clench into fists as he remembers Y/N’s confession.

And then there were the scratches.

They’d looked raw, fresh—exactly like the kind of defensive wounds a victim might leave behind. He tries to dismiss the thought. It’s Y/N, he tells himself. Sweet, shy Y/N, who wouldn’t hurt a fly. But the evidence won’t let him go.

The blood. The scratches. Her sudden nervousness, the way she pulled her sleeve down, the way she avoided his eyes when he asked her about it.

Jungkook takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He doesn’t want to believe it—doesn’t even want to entertain the thought. But as an inspector, he knows he can’t ignore the signs.

He flips through the photos from the crime scene, his eyes lingering on the smear of blood leading away from Mina’s body. The forensic team had confirmed it didn’t belong to Mina, and it wasn’t old enough to have been left by anyone else.

It had to be the killer’s.

He leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. His mind races with conflicting thoughts—his duty to the case, his growing feelings for Y/N, and the sickening possibility that they might be connected in ways he can’t yet comprehend.

“Jeon,” his partner calls from across the room, breaking his train of thought. “Anything new?”

Jungkook shakes his head, snapping the file shut. “No,” he lies. “Still piecing it together.”

But inside, he knows he can’t ignore this.

The next night, Jungkook finds himself back at the café. It’s late again, and the streets are quiet, save for the occasional hum of a passing car. He tells himself he’s just here for coffee, to clear his head. But deep down, he knows that’s not true.

Y/N is behind the counter, her movements slower than usual, as if weighed down by something unseen. She startles when she sees him walk in, her eyes wide, but she quickly masks it with a smile.

“Back again?” she asks, her voice trembling slightly.

He nods, offering a small smile of his own. “Couldn’t stay away. You make the best coffee, remember?”

She laughs softly, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. He watches her closely as she moves, noticing the way she avoids his gaze, the way she keeps her sleeves tugged down over her wrists.

When she sets the cup in front of him, he doesn’t drink right away. Instead, he leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter.

“Y/N,” he says softly, his voice steady but probing.

She looks up at him, her smile faltering. “Yeah?”

“You never told me how you got those scratches,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

Her breath catches, and he sees the flicker of panic in her expression before she quickly masks it. “I told you,” she says lightly. “I’m clumsy.”

“Clumsy enough to leave marks like that?” he presses, his gaze unrelenting.

Her hands tremble slightly as she picks up a cloth and starts wiping down the counter. “Why are you asking?” she says, her tone defensive.

He leans back, his jaw tightening. “Just curious. You know, with everything going on… people getting hurt. Makes me worry.”

She doesn’t respond, her focus fixed on the counter. The tension between them is thick, the silence stretching uncomfortably.

“I’m fine,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

But Jungkook isn’t convinced. Every instinct in him is screaming that something is wrong, that she’s hiding something. And yet, despite everything, a part of him doesn’t want to believe it.

“Okay,” he says finally, his tone softening. “If you say so.”

But as he leaves the café that night, the weight of his suspicions feels heavier than ever. The blood, the scratches, her nervousness—it all lines up too perfectly to ignore.

Jungkook walks slowly back to his car, his mind swirling with thoughts he doesn’t want to entertain. He stops just short of the driver’s seat, leaning against the door and staring at the dark street ahead.

The Y/N he knows—the one he’s been drawn to, the one who seemed so kind, so unassuming—couldn’t possibly be capable of this. Could she?

He slams his fist lightly against the roof of the car, frustration boiling under his skin. He doesn’t want to doubt her. But the evidence doesn’t lie.

That same night, Jungkook decides to dive deeper into the case. He returns to the precinct and retrieves the forensic report on the blood found at Mina’s home. He’s read it before, but now, with fresh eyes, he scans the details again.

The report confirms it: the blood belongs to a pregnant woman. The realization sends a chill down his spine.

Jungkook rubs a hand over his face, exhaustion creeping in as he tries to piece it all together. The killer had left no other trace—no prints, no DNA—just this blood. It was careless, uncharacteristic of someone who had been so meticulous with the other murders.

Why now? he wonders.

The connection feels tenuous at best, but the scratches on Y/N’s arm flash in his mind again, and he can’t ignore the unease building in his chest.

“Jeon,” his partner calls from his desk, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re still here? Go home, man. You’ve been at this for weeks.”

Jungkook forces a nod, shutting the file and grabbing his coat. “Yeah, I’m going,” he mutters.

But he doesn’t go home.

Instead, he drives back to Mina’s house, parking a short distance away and stepping out into the cold night. The crime scene has long since been cleared, but he needs to see it again, needs to feel it.

The house looms dark and silent, a grim reminder of what had happened within its walls. He steps closer, his boots crunching against the gravel as he shines his flashlight across the ground.

And then he sees it—a faint stain on the walkway leading away from the house.

His heart pounds as he kneels down, pulling on gloves and carefully swabbing the dried blood. It’s faint but fresh enough to have gone unnoticed during the initial sweep.

He stands, staring at the swab in his hand. It could be nothing, a stray smear left behind by someone from the forensics team. But it could also be something.

Someone.

As he slips the evidence into a bag, his mind circles back to Y/N. The scratches. Her sudden announcement. The way she seemed so on edge, so unlike herself.

The thought makes his stomach twist painfully. He doesn’t want to believe it, but the pieces are falling into place, and the picture they’re forming is one he can’t ignore.

He gets back into his car, gripping the steering wheel tightly. His next steps are clear: have the blood tested again, cross-reference it, and get answers.

But for now, he sits in the dark, staring out at the empty street,

Caught between his duty as an inspector and the growing fear that the woman he’s falling for might be the one he’s been chasing all along.

•••

It’s been days since Jungkook swabbed the blood at Mina’s crime scene. Days of sleepless nights, staring at reports, running DNA tests, and trying to ignore the tightening noose of suspicion around Y/N.

The results came back that morning. The blood is a match. A match for the mysterious pregnant killer. A match for Y/N, You.

The words on the report burn into his mind, but he can’t bring himself to process them fully. Instead, he spends hours driving aimlessly through Seodaemun-gu, circling back to the café before stopping outside Y/N’s small apartment.

He’s not sure what he’s going to say, or do. The woman he’s fallen for—who is carrying his child—has killed at least eighteen people, including Mina. But the thought of turning you in feels like a betrayal he’s incapable of.

Jungkook climbs the steps to your door, his heart pounding so hard he’s sure you’ll hear it the moment he knocks.

The door opens almost immediately, and Y/N’s face lights up in surprise. “Jungkook,” you say softly, but there’s a tension in your voice, as if you’ve been expecting this moment.

He steps inside without asking, closing the door behind him. His eyes scan the room, searching for something—anything that might confirm what he already knows.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you say, your voice low. You move to the small kitchen, your movements stiff.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “We need to talk.”

You freeze, your back to him, her hand resting on the counter. “About what?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead stepping closer. “You already know what.”

Y/N turns to face him, Your expression guarded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jungkook.”

“Don’t,” he says, his tone sharper than he intends. He exhales slowly, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I know, Y/N. About Mina. About all of it.”

Your face pales, and for a moment, you doesn’t respond. Then you cross your arms, your gaze steady but wary. “You’re mistaken,” you say evenly.

“I’m not,” he replies. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out the forensic report, dropping it onto the table. “This is your blood. At Mina’s house. You were there.”

Y/N’s breath catches, and you looks down at the report, your hands trembling. “It’s not what you think,” you whisper,

“Then tell me what it is!” His voice rises, the frustration and desperation spilling out. “Because the evidence says you killed her, Y/N. It says you’ve killed all of them.”

She doesn’t deny it. Instead, she steps back, her hands gripping the edge of the counter as if to steady herself. “I did it,” she says quietly, her voice breaking. “But they deserved it, Jungkook. Every single one of them.”

He stares at her, the weight of her confession hitting him like a freight train. “Mina didn’t deserve it,” he says, his voice hollow.

Her eyes fill with tears, and she shakes her head. “She broke you, Jungkook. She hurt you. And I couldn’t—”

“That wasn’t your decision to make!” he shouts, his voice cracking with emotion. “You had no right!”

Silence falls between them, heavy and suffocating. Y/N’s tears spill over, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t try to defend herself further.

Jungkook rubs a hand over his face, his thoughts spiraling. He knows what he should do—what his duty demands. But when he looks at her, at the woman carrying his child, he feels nothing but agony.

“I’m pregnant,” she says suddenly, her voice trembling.

“I know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“SERIOUSLY YN What the fuck have you done? I fell in love with a psychotic killer. FUCK!”

She flinches at his tone, her tears falling harder. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she says, her voice cracking. “I just, I couldn’t let them keep hurting people. I couldn’t let her keep hurting you.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, her words tearing through him. When he finally looks at her again, his expression is unreadable. “Do you understand what you’ve done?” he asks, his voice quiet but laced with pain.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“You’ve destroyed everything,” he says, his voice breaking.

She sobs, collapsing into a chair. “I didn’t mean to destroy you, Jungkook. I—”

“You didn’t destroy me,” he cuts her off, his tone icy. “You destroyed us.”

The room falls silent again, the weight of his words suffocating them both.

Finally, he speaks, his voice hollow. “I can’t turn you in, Y/N. I should, but I can’t. Because I—” He stops himself, shaking his head as if to dispel the thought. “But I need you to know that what you’ve done… it’s unforgivable.”

She looks up at him, her tear-streaked face full of anguish. “Then what happens now?”

Jungkook stares at her for a long moment, his jaw clenched, his hands trembling. “I don’t know,” he says finally, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know.”

And with that, he turns and walks out, leaving her alone with her guilt and the devastating weight of what she’s done.

•••

He takes a lot of Days to think about what he’s gonna do next, the truth is that he’s fallen too deeply in love with you to turn you in especially since he found out that you’re pregnant and as fucked up as it sounds, but the way you confessed to him that you killed Mina because she had hurt him,

It switched something inside him.. no one has ever gone that far for him.

You’re expecting his child

He has to do something to save you. He cannot turn you in no matter what.

So he decides to do something, a week later.

Jungkook sits alone in his car, parked a block away from the station. The stack of case files sits on the passenger seat, the details of eighteen brutal murders outlined in gruesome detail. At the top of the stack is Mina’s file.

The weight of what he’s about to do crushes his chest, but he’s made his decision.

If you go down, you take his child with you. You take him with you.

He exhales sharply, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. He’s always been a by-the-book cop, but the moment he fell for Y/N, that part of him started to crumble. Now, he’s about to destroy what’s left of it.

He enters the station with confidence and a mask.

The precinct buzzes with energy as Jungkook walks in, the familiar hum of chatter and clacking keyboards filling the air. His partner, Detective Choi, greets him with a nod.

“Got something for me, Jeon?” Choi asks, leaning back in his chair.

Jungkook sets the files down on his desk, forcing a calm expression. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ve been looking into a lead.”

Choi raises an eyebrow. “A lead? We’ve been spinning our wheels on this for months. What kind of lead?”

Jungkook opens Mina’s file, pulling out the report he fabricated the night before. He had spent hours doctoring evidence, crafting a story that would absolve Y/N of suspicion.

“This,” he says, handing the report to Choi.

Choi scans the document, his expression shifting from skepticism to curiosity. “A drug connection?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook lies smoothly. “I traced the source of the drug found in all the victims to a trafficking ring operating out of Incheon. It’s messy, but I think one of their enforcers is responsible for the killings.”

Choi frowns, flipping through the pages. “An enforcer who kills eighteen people, including Mina, and just disappears?”

“That’s the thing,” Jungkook says, leaning in. “I think they’ve already been eliminated. Internal cleaning. It explains why the killings stopped after Mina’s case.”

It’s a bold lie, but Jungkook delivers it with conviction, weaving in just enough plausible details to make it stick. He knows Choi is sharp, but he also knows his partner is tired of this case. They all are.

Choi nods slowly, handing the report back. “It’s a stretch, but it tracks. You’re saying we close this case on the assumption the killer’s dead?”

Jungkook shrugs, feigning indifference. “Unless you’ve got a better lead, I don’t see another option. The evidence lines up. It’s messy, but it fits.”

Choi exhales heavily, rubbing his temples. “Fine. I’ll run it by the chief.”

•••

The reaction is mixed. Some detectives are relieved to put the case behind them, satisfied with Jungkook’s explanation. Others grumble about loose ends and unanswered questions, but no one presses too hard.

“Good work, Jeon,” the chief says, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ve been on this for months. Go home. Get some rest.”

Jungkook forces a smile, nodding. “Thanks, chief.”

As he walks out of the precinct, he feels the weight of his actions settle over him. He’s betrayed his badge, his oath, and every victim in this case.

But he’s saved you.

But there’s still a lot of loose ends that he needs to tie up, especially to convince his department that the pregnant woman was a pawn.

He needs to do something really convincing, and soon because time is running out.

•••

After a lot of days later, you’re almost now almost two pregnant, Jungkook hasn’t visited you after that confrontation and you think that maybe he’s abandoned you and maybe he’s gonna arrest you but you’re ready to pay for your sins.

You know what you were getting into when you decided to do this and you don’t regret killing any one of them.

Especially not Mina

Only if you had any idea… about what is happening around you…

 The apartment is quiet when Jungkook arrives. The air feels thick with tension, the kind that comes from unsaid words, from everything that’s been building up for weeks, months even.

He’s been here before, countless times, but tonight feels different. It’s as if the weight of everything that’s happened has finally caught up to him. The lies. The murder. The twisted love you’ve both been hiding from.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table when he walks in, a cup of cold coffee in front of you, untouched. The dim light casts long shadows across your face,

making you look almost ethereal, but there’s a darkness in your eyes that he hasn’t seen before. He doesn’t know whether it’s the guilt or the truth that lingers between you both, but it’s there. It’s palpable.

You don’t stand up when he enters. You don’t even look at him at first. Instead, your fingers trace the rim of the cup absentmindedly, like you’re lost in thought, deciding what to say. Or maybe deciding if you should say anything at all.

“You’re here,” you say finally, your voice quiet, almost resigned. “I was wondering when you’d come.”

Jungkook closes the door behind him, his breath heavy. The sight of you is almost too much to bear.

He feels the pull, the urgency of everything that’s been building up since that night at the café. But there’s something else too. Something darker. The guilt. The secret he’s been keeping. The knowledge that he’s closing his eyes to the truth.

“I had to,” he replies, his voice hoarse. His eyes move to you, scanning your face, trying to find the woman he once thought he understood, the one who wasn’t a murderer. But now, nothing seems as simple as it once did.

You finally look up, your eyes meeting his, and for a brief moment, he sees it. The crack in your facade. The vulnerability that you’ve been hiding. But it’s fleeting. Quickly masked by that cold, calculating expression he’s learned to fear.

“You did what you had to?” you echo, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “Funny. I didn’t know I was something you had to protect.”

Your stomach twists, guilt washing over you as you feel the weight of your words. The truth that he’s been avoiding hits you like a punch to the gut.

“I didn’t want to…,” he starts, his words faltering. “I didn’t want any of this. But I couldn’t let you go. Not after everything.”

You smile, but it’s not a smile at all. It’s a mask. A shield you’ve put up, but he sees through it. Just like he’s starting to see through everything you’ve done.

“Why didn’t you let me go, Jungkook?” you ask, standing slowly, your eyes never leaving his. You take a step toward him, the space between you narrowing with every heartbeat. “Because of your guilt? Or because you want me? Because you want us?”

Jungkook feels the heat rising in his chest, his body tense, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He wants to deny it, wants to tell you that it’s not like that, but the truth is too raw to ignore. He’s in too deep. He’s in love with you.

“I…” he hesitates, struggling with the words that seem impossible to say. “I don’t know what to believe anymore, Y/N. But I want you. More than anything.”

The words hang in the air between you both, thick with tension. You step closer, the space between you vanishing entirely. Your breath is warm against his skin as you raise a hand to his chest, tracing a line down to the hem of his shirt.

“Then why do you keep pretending like this is all just a mistake?” Your voice is soft now, a little breathless, but there’s something in it that makes his heart race even faster. “You know what I’ve done. You know the truth. So why are we still playing this game?”

His chest tightens as he stares into your eyes, the question echoing in his mind. Why are we still playing this game?

He’s already crossed too many lines, already made choices that can’t be undone. He’s in love with you, and that’s the only truth he can hold onto right now. But the guilt, the knowledge of what you’ve done—it’s suffocating him.

“I’m here because I don’t have a choice,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ve already made my choice. And it’s you.”

You look at him, your gaze calculating, but something flickers in your eyes. Relief? Or is it something darker? He can’t tell anymore.

“You don’t have to choose between me and the truth, Jungkook,” you say, stepping even closer until you’re inches apart. “The truth is… we belong together. In everything we’ve done. In everything we’ll do.”

The words send a shiver through him. There’s no going back now. He knows it. You know it.

His hands reach for you, pulling you into him, and your lips meet in a kiss that is desperate and consuming. He’s not thinking anymore. He’s not questioning. He’s just here, with you, drowning in everything that’s pulled you both together.

When you finally break apart, his breath is ragged, his chest heaving. Your hands rest on his shoulders, your eyes dark with something he can’t quite place.

“I’ll do anything for you,” he says, his voice hoarse, the words pouring out of him without thought.

“I know,” you reply softly, your fingers brushing against his neck. “And I’ll do anything for you too. But we have to be honest with each other now. No more lies.”

He nods, the weight of your words sinking into his bones. There’s no turning back now. “Jungkook.. you know it was a big skill investigation rate. How did you even convince your department to close the case tell me what did you do.”

He looks at you and smiles

He’s made his choice.

“Okay fine I will tell you.”

The investigation was closing in, and with each passing day, the walls seemed to close in tighter around Jungkook. The blood—so carefully planted at Mina’s crime scene—was becoming a ticking time bomb, and the pressure to keep Y/N safe weighed heavily on him. His heart hammered in his chest every time the case came up in discussion, and he knew he had to take drastic measures.

He needed to shut it all down. Permanently.

That’s when it hit him: a recently discovered body in a nearby district. A woman—pregnant, recently deceased, and conveniently found under suspicious circumstances. She wasn’t the killer, but to Jungkook, she might as well have been. He could use her to frame the entire investigation.

When Jungkook visited the morgue that night, the body lay still on the cold steel table, a haunting reminder of the fragile line between life and death. The woman had died under mysterious circumstances, no clear motive, no clear suspect. And with her pregnancy, she was the perfect pawn.

Jungkook’s mind raced as he walked around the body, his eyes lingering on her swollen belly, her pale face, the indistinct bruises on her skin that told a story he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know. He felt a sharp pang in his chest, the ghost of guilt flickering behind his thoughts. But there was no time for hesitation. He needed this body.

In his mind, he already had a plan.

He would stage the scene, make it look like this woman was the killer. He’d plant evidence that suggested the woman had been linked to Mina’s death—trace amounts of blood, a few fingerprints in the wrong places. A well-placed piece of clothing or object to tie her to the scene. It was risky, but it was the only way to close the case without implicating Y/N.

The morgue attendant, a sleepy-eyed man who didn’t seem to care much for the dead, handed him the body without question. Jungkook took a deep breath, making sure his hands didn’t shake. He carefully moved the body, knowing exactly what he needed to do.

Hours later, the police were called to a new crime scene. It was the same as always—an empty alleyway with the body of a woman found in a position that suggested something far darker than a random attack. The crime scene looked eerily similar to the previous murders, and that’s exactly what Jungkook had hoped for.

His mind worked quickly, placing the body of the pregnant woman at the scene as though she had been the one to kill Mina. The blood trail leading away from her. A few well-placed items. The evidence was there, but just subtle enough to make it believable.

The next day, Jungkook presented the findings to the department. His colleagues seemed to buy it without much question.

The body of the pregnant woman, found near the alley where Mina had been murdered, in her own home, was identified as the suspect. The evidence—though still sparse—was enough to back up the theory he had fabricated.

“I’ve spoken with forensics,” Jungkook said, standing tall as the room buzzed with suspicion. “The blood found near Mina’s body and the scene where this woman was found confirms our theory. This woman, whoever she was, was clearly involved. And she was pregnant, which explains her connection to the killer we’ve been hunting.”

The room fell silent, the officers looking at each other in confusion. But Jungkook pressed on, pushing the narrative with an authoritative tone.

“She was part of the criminal network, no doubt. This is why the killer used her. She was a pawn, an expendable figure, dragged into something much larger.”

“But with her death, we’ve finally identified her role. She’s the one we were after.”

Jungkook’s voice was steady, rehearsed, convincing. He wasn’t just presenting evidence; he was weaving the story.

One of the officers, a sharp-eyed veteran named Park, raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with a skeptical look. “Are you sure, Jeon? This all seems… too neat. A little too perfect.”

Jungkook took a breath, pushing his doubts aside. “We have to tie it up. The evidence is there. It explains everything. And it leads us to believe that the killer is someone who knew how to manipulate the situation. A pregnant woman was used to distract us from the true killer.”

He met Park’s gaze, holding it long enough to send the message. There was no going back now. He had to make this work.

•••

After a lot of deliberation, and no further suspicions or clues, Jungkooks lie worked

But there were too many questions now. How far could he go before his lies caught up to him? Would the department ever suspect him, even if they’d closed the case?

And most importantly, how much longer could he keep this secret—his secret—hidden from everyone, especially from Y/N?

With the department’s approval, Jungkook walked away from the case, his mind heavy with the weight of the lies he’d told. But as whenever he looked at Y/N, the mother of his child, he knew that no matter what it took, he would do whatever it took to keep her from being discovered.

The announcement came in later that day: Case #178-C, the Seodaemun Serial Killings, officially closed.

The case was officially closed. The department was satisfied, the investigation wrapped up, and the media was ready to move on to the next headline. Jungkook, however, couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was unraveling. He had used the body of a pregnant woman, a victim in her own right, to save Y/N—and his own conscience.

And now you two, will be together forever, and it will be your own heaven where no one will ever disturb you both and your growing family.

Everything is fair in love and war after to all

And this was both.

The love stored in his heart and the war of his own conscious, and eventually the love for you and his heart lawn over the war in his conscious.

“So you see, yn? Start packing your bags. You’re moving in with me and we’re gonna get married and have a child and live happily ever after.”

He stares at you with a lot of love in his eyes, but there’s something darker and you recognize it because it’s such a familiar look

A look that you often saw in your own mirror.

You kiss him again and smile against his lips.

You will do anything for him and you know now that he will also do anything for you.

Everything was worth it.

He was always worth it.

And he knows for a fact that you’re always gonna be worth it

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl.

Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.1k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).

Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

next chapter (two).

Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/

An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.

"Babe! Babe! Babe!"

"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"

You can guess. In fact, you already have.

Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.

You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.

You wish people would shut up about it.

The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.

You fall into the latter.

You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.

You're not sure you ever want it to happen.

The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.

Not everyone shares the same sentiment.

"Babe, you still there?"

Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"

You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.

"Sure. I'll see you in ten."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."

You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.

"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.

The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.

"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"

She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.

"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."

As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."

"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.

"Like fucking magic."

You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.

"Magic?" you prompt.

"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"

She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.

"So, what's his name? What's he like?"

"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"

"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.

"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."

You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.

"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"

"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."

You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.

"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"

"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."

Jackpot. She's read you like a book.

"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"

"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"

"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"

You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.

"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."

"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."

Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.

"Hi, Mama."

"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."

She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.

"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."

"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."

She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.

"You've poured four, Mama."

"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."

"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."

"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"

She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.

Your Dad's best friend.

They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.

He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.

Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.

She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.

It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.

A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.

Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.

Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.

Might as well make the most of the freedom.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.

"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.

"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.

"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.

"I brought your favourite, Lori."

"So did I," you echo, laughing.

"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"

"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."

"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.

The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.

"Lacie got Tethered."

"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.

"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.

"Tell me about it."

"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."

"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."

"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."

"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."

"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."

"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."

"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."

"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.

And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.

"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.

"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."

You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.

"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."

You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.

"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.

"You got big late night plans?" you tease.

"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."

Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"

"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."

"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.

You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.

"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.

"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"

They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.

"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.

"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.

"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.

"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.

"Maybe?" he smirks.

"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."

"Like hell you will," he grumbles.

You quirk a brow in confusion.

"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."

You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.

"Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" you ask tentatively.

"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"

You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I fucking love the beach."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.

The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.

The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.

A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.

"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."

He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."

Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.

"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."

"And what is this?"

"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."

You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.

"Me too," he whispers.

You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.

"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."

You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.

"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"

He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.

"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."

"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.

You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.

"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."

You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.

"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"

"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."

He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.

"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.

"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."

"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."

You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.

"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."

"You're the best, sugar."

You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.

"Nope. You?"

"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"

The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?

"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."

"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.

Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.

"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"

You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.

"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."

He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.

"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.

"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.

Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.

"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."

You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.

"Woah, easy. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.

He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.

And then, it happens.

Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.

Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.

Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.

After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.

You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.

He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.

You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.

He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.

"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.

A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.

"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."

Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.

You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.

You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.

Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.

You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.

A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.

"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."

"My soulmate," you whisper.

The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.

Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.

"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.

He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.

He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.

"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."

"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.

"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."

You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.

You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.

"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.

"My honey girl."

tag list <3

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @tilltheendofthelinepal9950 @val-writesstuff @t-t-hello @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @myloveniall @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @floralwsloki @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @alesabisou @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @pedropascalsleftfoot @cremebruleequeen @ladifreakingda @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @evan-peters-wife @llamazarecoolaf @ace-27749 @hinata7346

[morning-star-joy]

half asleep, half awake

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader, ASHWAH Universe

Summary: Every time Joel Miller realizes he loves you. Every time he wants to tell you, and the time he does.

Warnings: Brief smut (unprotected p in v, possessiveness, creampie), brief reference to canon-typical violence, longing, Joel can’t communicate his feelings until he can, lots and lots of love. Multiple specific references to the main series. Joel's POV.

A/N: I’ve gotten asked a few times when Joel realizes he loves Reader in this series, and the inspiration hit me the other day to write out my answer to it. Because it could be one scene, but so many before, and so many after when he wants to say it. I miss these two and I love these two and I hope that this little companion piece to the fic makes somebody as happy as I was to write them again!

Wordcount: 1.8k

gorgeous dividers by @saradika

Important: Please read this post and how to help Palestine.

The first time Joel feels it—really feels it, settled into his bones with an undeniable weight, tugging at his heart with an unimaginable lightness—is the night of his 57th birthday.

Months of staying out of his bedroom, of keeping you off his bed, dissolve into a forgotten time the moment you tug the glass of whiskey from his hand.

Move over, you’d said, making room for yourself amongst the place where he laid his head every night. You finish off the drink, take the rest of the poison he’d been diluting his veins with to drown out the pain of all he’d lost, and settle next to him.

He thinks he wants to see you there every night.

You ask him things like his favorite fucking color, things that don’t matter. Not to him, not to you—but you ask anyway. You meet his eyes readily, open and honest and searching his soul for the same old breaks in your own, and he feels it.

You hold his hand, and it fits there. You would fit into his side too, he muses, if he pulled you in.

He wants to pull you in. He wants you in ways nobody’s ever had you—he knows they haven’t, can feel the trepidation in your soul when he looks at you for too long, or lets his touches linger.

You’ll fuck him like there’s no tomorrow, because maybe there isn’t, but you won’t let him hold you tender. Not that he’s tried, but he knows you. Not everything about you, but enough.

And that night, there’s more. More to you, wounds open and pain spilling out, and it looks like his own. It is his own.

I should probably go, you say when it’s become too much, and he feels the urge to ask you to stay.

Joel asks if you want a drink instead, because he’s an idiot, and you say he’s had too much, because you’re right.

He watches from his window as you walk home under the streetlights for once instead of sticking to the darkness, and though he won’t call it what it is, he knows it’s love.

Joel’s loved you longer than that, though. Somehow he knows it, but he can’t place when.

In front of his fireplace, maybe. You’re shivering from god knows how long you had spent in the rain, in the graveyard, in your own mourning. Broken, and he wants to find each piece of you that you’ve lost and put you back together.

Or at least hold you tight enough that you feel okay again. He just knows that he misses your damn smirk, your fucking laugh, and maybe that was love too.

Or maybe it’s when he wants you to be his, his, his only. When he wants to erase the image of that man’s hand on your back with his own on your skin, fingertips digging into your hips and pulling them back to slap against his.

Maybe it’s the skirt of a temptress bunched up around your waist, each desperate thrust of his cock into your needy cunt, dripping and squeezing as you say, moan, scream his name, his, his.

Maybe it’s when you’re half-naked after, admitting you don’t know what the fuck this is, don’t understand what it’s become, and he doesn’t know either. But it’s something delicate. Maybe it’s love then.

Maybe it’s love on the bathroom floor when he realizes you’re the first friend he’s made in years.

Maybe it’s love when he wants to kill every single bastard raider who took you from him, wants to tear them apart with his bare hands and make them bleed and bleed for how much blood they’d taken from you. Precious blood, blood that kept you alive, kept you snarky and angry and wrapped around him each time he took as much pleasure from you as he gave back.

Or it’s Halloween, the bright lights, loud music, and clothes of a bygone era. None of it real until Maria shoves the truth of the matter into his face. She tells him he’s an idiot and just what it all means, what you mean to everyone, and to him, and he finally accepts it.

That’s the first night he has you in his bed. The first night he sees all of you, feels all of you, skin against skin, and you come again, and again, and again. It’s not enough, he needs to keep feeling it, needs you to fall apart in his hands so he can put you back together. A single thread he weaves through you and tugs with each ripple of pleasure, pulling you apart again with each clench of your cunt around his cock, until you pull it from him too.

You fall asleep in a matter of minutes after. Lips parted, and he wished he could watch them swell after a kiss, but you were still holding back.

So he settles for his palm on your cheek, stroking the scar that he still doesn’t know how you got, and feels so much longing, so much love when you sink into his sheets, wrapped up in his favorite color that you knew because you cared to ask. Settled by just the touch of him.

Joel thinks you tried to say something that night, but he’ll never know what. He does know what he wants to say, but he holds back. He’d wait for you, even if you never wanted this too. He’d be whatever you did want him to be.

Time passes in a blur after that, as you tangle yourselves together in ways he never would’ve once thought possible. He doesn’t move, and you lean into him. He doesn’t move, just lets you come to him, too scared you’ll run away again if he holds you too tight, or at all.

Then that night. A meal shared with the family you’d found. He tries to go home alone after, and you chase after him, hold him tight, and he knows. He knows what he feels, and he knows you feel it too.

He doesn’t have to say it, but he wants to. Night after night he wants to, the more that you settle and the more that you’re his. The more that he is yours.

You kiss him, finally—or he kisses you, he can’t remember which. And it says it all.

Still, the words are trapped in his throat as his home truly becomes yours.

His body had already been your home for a year.

His heart, for longer than he would ever know.

But his house. Four walls that didn’t mean anything, not really, not until you lived within them and your sister’s art was on the mantle, your photograph of your parents was in your room that was his room, all your mugs in the kitchen and his coffee was your coffee—he needs to tell you.

He tries to every morning, in his kitchen with your cups of coffee—or tea, with complaints falling from both his mouth and yours if you were out of your preferred beverage. He doesn’t, but he knows you can taste it in the drink he brews for you, perfected to your liking.

He tries to before every patrol, in case somebody takes you from him again. He doesn’t, but he knows you can see it when his eyes seek yours, when he gives you a nod and a lingering gaze before you’re out of the gates and on your way. He knows you can feel it when you both get home, his arms wrapped around you tight and the tension seeping from his body when you’re pressed to him.

He tries to every night, but it’s lost on his tongue every time it slides into your mouth. He knows you know with every kiss, every thrust of his hips from where he’d found a home nestled between your thighs, spilling himself into you as you welcomed him in and made the most beautiful music every time.

You’re comfortable in bed months after the holidays, after that first kiss. Winter is warming into spring, the air feels like starting again, and he tries to tell you.

You’d been reading when he crawled into bed behind you after a shower. His face buried into your neck, each drop of water onto your skin so cold it makes you shiver. But your nails dig into his forearm when it wraps around your waist, the book tumbling from your fingers as you grasp at the nightstand with each drag of his pulsing cock inside your tight heat.

The lamp on the nightstand rattles with each thrust, sending waves of warm light flashing across the room. He’s mesmerized each time it washes across your face, pinched in the familiar climb for pleasure you trusted him to guide you through. He mouths at the scar on your cheek, caressing with lips and tongue as you gasp his name.

You’re so beautiful. His moon, his heart, his home, his everything.

Joel wants to tell you when you come, your eyes fluttering open and seeking his. Seeking that connection between you, as hungry as you are reverent, and he doesn’t deserve it, that undying loyalty. But you think the same for yourself, so what did either of you know, besides what this was.

Love, and he wants to say it. Wants to say he loves you when each flutter of your pussy around him sends him spiraling into an orgasm, a blissful moment of release he now only ever associated with you.

Half asleep after, you’re content, the warm light of the steadied lamp caressing your skin as he cleans it. You know what he wants to say, he thinks. Your eyes are heavy and lazily watching as he kisses the inside of your thigh, peppers his love up your body to your lips.

Half awake, Joel watches you reach for him, pulling him down into a soft caress of your lips against his, with more tenderness either of you ever thought you were capable of.

He won’t say it. You know he won’t.

But you know he will. Someday.

And that one morning amongst many that belong to just you and him, when you ask about other lives, when he realizes you’d want him in more than just this one—in every one—he says it.

You say it back, and everything is right.

When you ask him when he first felt it, he tells you the truth; that he hadn’t felt it just yet on that snowy street a year ago, but a part of him always knew he would love you.

And now, Joel knew he always would.

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — It was never Reader's plan to be a single mother to a newborn child, but a longtime friend steps in and before long they both have the family they've always wanted, the only catch: they're still just friends

WORD COUNT — 13.6K

WARNINGS — mentions of pregnancy and birth, breastfeeding (like non descriptive? does this need to be a warning?)

NOTE — Okay this fic has been in the works for a while and I have been swamped with school so I'm so happy I'm finally able to post something because it's literally been a full-ass month since I last came out with anything ._. hoping once finals are over I can get back into my writing groove and give some of my ideas the attention they deserve!

Middle photo credit goes to @shots-of-wilson-and-whiskey

“Are you sure this is okay?” you looked back while holding a baby carrier in both hands. 

“Like I told you back at the hospital, and in the car, and then again in the car, I promise this is okay,” James assured you, following right behind, bags under each arm. “You just went through a 40 hour labour, did you really think it would be a smart move to come home alone?”

He was right about that, physically you were exhausted, you were sure how much longer you could keep your eyes open. 

“Go take a shower, I’ll look after her until you get out,” he suggested. “If you had a support person here you would have taken shifts.”

“I know, but you have a life James,” you sighed. “One that didn’t involve your friend getting pregnant and then taking care of her.”

“Would it make it any better if I told you I really don’t mind? I like spending time with you, it’s why we’ve been friends for so long,” he put the bags down by the table and then placed a hand on your shoulder. 

“James, I love you, but I’m going to be brutally honest because my filter has vanished. This is what happens to all your wives, all your girlfriends. I really don’t need that happening to us too,” you said. 

“It won’t,” he pressed. “Come on, just take the shower. I know you want to.”

You sighed, “Alright, but I’m not gonna call for you to come in the middle of the night and every which time of day. If you want to come and see us, do it of your own accord and if you don’t want to then don’t,” you emphasized. “Do what you want, not what you think I want.”

“If I say I will, will you go take a shower?” James asked and you rolled your eyes at him. 

“Don’t drop my baby while I’m in there, okay?” you pointed at him. “You still owe me for that vase you broke.” 

“You mean the tacky one your crappy ex-boyfriend’s mom gave you? I think I did you a favour there.” 

“You’re insufferable sometimes, you know?” you said carefully putting the carrier down in the living room and looking down at your resting daughter for a moment before heading towards your room. 

“I love you too,” he said simply, replacing you by her side and keeping a close eye on her while she slept. 

You had to admit, it was a relief to be able to step into the shower, knowing there was someone you trusted outside looking after the small human you were now fully responsible for. At least before dealing with the stress and everything that would come afterwards you’d be able to be clean. 

When you came out of your bedroom after your shower, dressed in the most comfortable clothes you could find lying around, you saw James in the kitchen, the carrier now propped up on the table while he unpacked something from some grocery bags. 

“I was craving Indian, do you want some?” he asked. 

“Of course I do, the food at your hospital sucks, hand it over,” you put your hand out and he gave you a bowl so you could serve yourself some rice and curry. “She’s still asleep?” 

“Woke up once, but I got her to fall back asleep pretty easily. She might get hungry soon though too.” 

“So I should eat while I still have the chance,” you sat down at the island and began munching on the food, turning around the carrier so you could see your daughter. 

It was interesting, she’d been around only for a short few days but you could barely ever take your eyes off her. 

“Did you pick a name for her yet?” James asked, leaning over the table and eating his portion of dinner. 

“I think so,” you nodded. “I was between two when she was born, but now that I look at her she fits one better than the other.” 

“So what’s the winner?” 

“Liana,” you smiled and brushed your fingers along her small curled toes. “It suits her doesn’t it?” 

“I think it does,” he nodded. “You made a pretty cute baby.” 

“I made a very cute baby, thank you very much,” you scoffed with a chuckle. “You think you could do better?” 

“Well I don’t have a uterus so I don’t think we’ll ever be able to find out,” he shook his head. “Shame, I probably would have demolished you.” 

“As if,” you laughed, continuing to eat more food just as Liana began to stir awake. “And there’s my cue.” 

You stood up and carefully took her out of the carrier, cautious of supporting her neck before moving over to the couch where you could comfortably feed her. 

“Once you’re done I’ll burp her,” James said. “So you can keep eating.” 

“Sure,” you nodded. “Got practice from your med school days?” 

“Yeah, actually,” he nodded. “I thought originally I might specialize in working in the NICU so I spent a lot of time in the maternity ward.” 

“What made you change your mind?” you asked. 

“I would have burnt out,” he admitted. “Seeing babies and spending time with them is one thing, but seeing them sick and sometimes not get better? It’s a lot harder than you’d imagine.” 

You hummed thoughtfully, “You would have been good in that department if you decided to go that route. I think at least.” 

“Really, why do you think so?” 

“James, you’ve always been great with kids and parents. Don’t you remember how we met?” 

He chuckled to himself, “Summer camp days. Yeah, you really did have to know your way around both.” 

“You somehow managed, as a nineteen-year-old, to calm a child who was freaking out about staying away from home and dealing with an unhappy parent of a different child. I think your people skills just got better as you got older.” 

“I don’t think there’s much in life that trains you to deal with crises as much as being a camp counsellor.” 

“You can test your skills with Liana and see if you’ve still got the magic when it comes to babies,” you teased, followed by a yawn. 

“Trust me, I definitely do,” he assured you. “Babies love me.”

“And do you love babies?”

“I do, and I think I’m gonna end up loving yours a little more than most,” he admitted. 

“Good, she’s gonna need it,” you sighed. “I’m gonna need it.”

There was a pause for a moment before James spoke up again,

“Have you talked to him since the break up?” he asked and you shook your head, feeling the tears develop in your eyes. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it, not right now,” you whispered, looking down at Liana again. 

James did not peg your boyfriend as the abandoning type, but after he had coaxed the news out of you during one of your visits, he could see how much it crushed you to think of what lied ahead. Not because you didn’t want a child, but because Liana was all you wanted and you thought you were on the same page as your partner, but when it came down to things he couldn’t hold up the mask he’d been wearing any longer. 

“You should talk about it sometime though, right?” James said softly. “Doesn’t have to be with me, but you’ve been so laser focused on getting through the past nine months you haven’t really processed what happened.”

Liana had since finished feeding and you carried her over to the kitchen island, passing James a burp cloth that he could drape across his shoulder before taking her from your hands, after you pressed a small kiss to her forehead. 

“Not sure if I want to process it,” you admitted. “I’d rather focus on her.”

“And I’d rather you take care of yourself so you don’t crash and burn,” he said. 

You knew he was right, but it was nicer to pretend you were alone from start to finish than even imagining the possibility that someone was supposed to be with you through everything. The doctors appointments, the morning sickness, the preparation. 

Instead you ended up feeling like a burden to your friends who had gone out of their way to help you and be there for you. 

“Okay,” you nodded simply. “I’ll do it for you and her then.”

“It’ll end up being for you in the end,” he assured. “But just…trust me on this okay?”

“I do,” you smiled. “Just like I trust you with her.”

You finished eating your dinner while James took care of Liana and even managed to get her to go back to sleep. It seemed that even though she’d only been in the world a short while, she felt just as safe in his arms as she did in yours.

“You can put her down if you want. I have a cot set up in my room,” you pointed. 

“I’m alright like this,” he shook his head. “I’ll hold her until you’re done then I’ll leave you guys so you can get some sleep.”

Considering how hungry you were, it didn't take that much longer for you to finish eating and while you cleared up the dishes, James went and put Liana down in her bed and then gathered his things so he could give you some time alone. 

“I’ll see you around, James. Thanks for coming to help today,” you gave him a big hug and he held you tight in that way he would when he wanted to say something, but knew it should probably wait. 

“Anytime,” he gave you an additional squeeze. “You’re gonna be a great mom. You are a great mom already. I’m really happy for you.” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to say any words in response so you just nodded your head and held onto him tighter. After a moment he pulled away and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. 

“Love you, now go get some sleep.” 

“You’ve got it Dr. Wilson,” you saluted him. 

You walked him out of the door and after closing it shut behind him you took a deep breath. It was going to be hard, but you could do it. 

—

A few months later…

“Don’t you have a life?” you yawned, bouncing Liana in your arms to try and get her to fall asleep. 

“I mean I went bowling with House last night and I consistently stay late at work, and that’s about it, so no,” James shook his head. 

“So you figured that coming and bothering me is a good use of your spare time.” 

“I wouldn’t call it bothering,” James gave you a look. “I made you dinner.” 

“Yeah you did, and unfortunately it was really good too,” you sighed. “So you just want to hang out with me and Liana?”

“Yeah, is that so hard to believe?”

“A little considering I always have baby vomit on me now,” you chuckled. 

“It brings out your eyes,” he teased. “Here, why don’t I take her.”

“Last time I agreed to that you riled her up, which I didn’t think was possible for a three month old,” you eyed him skeptically. 

“I promise I’ll put her to sleep,” he crossed his heart. 

“Wrong religion, James,” you shook your head and he laughed. 

“Do you want me to swear on the Torah?”

“It would help,” you nodded. 

“Alright, I swear on the Torah that I won’t rile her up.”

You reluctantly passed Liana over to James and scoffed when she almost immediately stopped fussing. 

“See,” he smiled and kissed her small nose while he rocked her gently, making her eyes slowly close as she fell asleep. 

“You two are in kahoots. She’s fine whenever you’re not around, but when you are it’s like she knows she can get passed off to you if she’s fussy enough,” you laughed a little. “It’s cute though, I like how much she likes you.”

“Me too, why do you think I keep coming here?” 

“So you came to visit, what do you want to do?” you asked. “My plans were to clean the kitchen and do laundry, so not much more exciting than sitting around at home.”

“Why don’t you let me put her down then we can tackle the kitchen together. I mean I did make half of the mess there.”

“I won’t argue with you there,” you sighed and put your hands on your hips. “Okay, I’m gonna throw a load in before you put her down.” 

It took a little bit for James to be confident Liana was fully asleep before putting her down in her cot and then meeting you again in the kitchen where you were packing up leftovers from dinner. 

“Have you had many visitors?” James asked. 

“Well, I do have this one guy that keeps coming around, about this tall, practicing oncology, I think he’s a little bit obsessed with me,” you joked. 

“Aside from me,” he shook his head and went over to the dishes. 

“Yeah, a few. My parents were here for a bit while you were out of town and then some of my friends have come around to help with a few things here and there and to meet Liana.”

“Nice.”

“You sound like you want to say something,” you looked back at him. 

“It’s not too much having me over all the time, is it?”

“No, not at all,” you shook your head. “You know me, I’d tell you if it was.”

“Because I really do like spending time with you both. It’s a lot nicer than going to an empty house at the end of the day,” he admitted. “So if you don’t mind, maybe I can keep bothering you and making a mess in your kitchen.”

“I think that would be okay,” you smiled. 

You cleaned in silence for a bit before James began asking a few questions about Liana. 

“She had an appointment with her pediatrician recently, right? Everything went okay?”

“Yeah, fit as a fiddle,” you sighed. “Thank goodness.”

“Have you decided if you’re gonna use formula yet? Or will you wait it out?”

“I was actually going to ask you about this, whenever I ask anyone I think has an opinion I’d like to hear they say I need to make the decision myself and then everyone I don’t want to hear from seems to have something to say,” you chuckled. “What do you think? As a doctor?”

“I mean, if I were in your situation I might wait a bit longer, she’s still pretty young and there’s no real reason to switch over yet. I think a lot of people start maybe around 12 months and from what I’ve seen that works well,” he shrugged. 

“Thanks for giving me a straight answer,” you placed a hand on his arm. “I also don’t know if I should try and take leave from work or hire a nanny, but I think I probably have to figure that one out myself.”

“Do you have enough savings to take the time off?” he asked. 

“I get a few more months paid leave from the company I work for since I have seniority, but after that I have to figure out what to do. I think I have enough saved to last me some time, but I’m going to have to go back eventually.”

James hummed thoughtfully. 

“Do you wanna come up with solutions tonight or relax now that we’ve finished cleaning?” he asked, motioning his head to the kitchen that was definitely in better shape than before. 

“Let’s watch a movie or something, I don’t think I’ve turned the TV on since Liana was born. I’ll fold the laundry when it’s done while we watch,” you said. “I’ll figure something out later.”

“We should watch, oh jeez what’s that thing we started ages ago and never finished?”

“The really bad soap?” you asked and he nodded, “Oh yes, we’re definitely watching that.”

“Okay, you go get settled, I��m gonna make some tea, do you want some?”

“Sure, just make me whatever you’re having,” you nodded and grabbed the remote from under the pile of blankets on the couch, turning on the TV and trying to find the episodes you had recorded to watch later. 

By the time James had finished making the tea, you had found the show and were just about to start it. 

“Here,” James passed you the mug. “So what was the last thing that happened?”

“I think the main guy was sleeping with the head nurse, right and then there was the whole thing with her being engaged to the other surgeon and then her sister was in a coma?” 

“Wait, I thought the surgeon she was engaged to was sleeping with one of his patients?” 

“He was,” you nodded. “It was a whole thing.”

“Alright, just start it, I’m sure I’ll remember more as we watch.”

James was very sorely mistaken, if anything he’d gotten more confused and you were absolutely no help because nothing was making sense anymore. 

“What is up with the writing?” you asked. “Like did they just completely forget they had a whole storyline dedicated to this huge procedure and now they’re acting like nothing happened.”

“Don’t get me started, that guy was doing surgery without gloves, like that doesn’t even take much effort to get right. You’d think it was common sense,” James added. 

“Maybe we should turn it off,” you looked over at your friend, “it’s getting us all riled up.”

James pressed his lips together, “I know, but I kind of want to find out who’s the father of Paula’s baby.”

You leaned back into the couch, you had managed to fold all the laundry, and it was still a little too early to go to sleep, you supposed a few more episodes couldn’t hurt. 

“If I fall asleep, just lock up on your way out, okay?” you looked over at him and he nodded as you started the next episode. 

Just as you predicted, about halfway through the second episode you began to drift off, and as soon as James noticed, he stopped the episode already having decided you could finish it together another time. 

He shifted you slightly so you were lying down on the couch instead of in the uncomfortable position you were in before, placing a blanket over top of you. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, wishing you a good night before going to check on Liana, and after seeing she was sleeping soundly and the baby monitor was on, he saw himself out, taking your spare key from where it was hidden on the porch and locking the door. 

—

“How’s my girl doing?” James grinned, scooping Liana out of your arms. “I haven’t seen you in so long,” he kissed her nose making her giggle. 

“James, you were here two days ago,” you laughed. 

“And it feels like an eternity.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “She’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged. “Just as long as we get to spend time together.”

“Yeah, well she hasn’t napped yet so it can wait until after that,” you reached to take her back but James insisted he could put her to sleep. “James, you just got off work are you sure you don’t want to eat something or take a break for a bit?”

“This is like a break for me,” he assured you. 

“Okay, I’m gonna make a salad, come out and eat when you’re done.”

James nodded and went off to the bedroom so he could sit on the armchair there and coax her to sleep. 

Usually he didn’t need more than twenty minutes to half an hour to put her down, so when you were hitting the forty-five minute mark you wondered if Liana was being fussy, so you went to check in on them, instead seeing James fast asleep on the armchair with Liana snuggled against his chest. 

You bit back a big smile and went to go grab your camera quickly, and quietly snapped a shot of the two of them. 

Not wanting to wake either of them, you made your way back to the kitchen, shutting the door of the room behind you to make sure the sound didn’t travel. 

Figuring it might be a while before James came back out, you decided to eat your dinner, that way you could take Liana from him when they woke up so he could get something to eat too. 

As you had predicted, James exited the room about an hour later, Liana now awake and hungry for her own dinner. 

“Want me to take her now?” you teased and he rolled his eyes while you took your baby from him, sitting on the couch to feed her while he grabbed himself something to eat. “You had a good nap?”

“Great actually, I think I needed it. Been pulling a lot of late nights at the office getting paperwork done,” he admitted. “I’m surprised you didn’t wake me.”

“You looked comfortable, I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Well, I appreciate it cause I needed the sleep,” he sighed and came and sat next to you while he began to eat his dinner. 

“James, I…I tried to talk to him the other week,” you said, knowing he would be able to connect the dots back to your ex. “I’d been meaning to tell you, it just slipped my mind I guess.”

“You did…what did he say?”

“God, I’m gonna start crying again,” you let out a humourless chuckle and lifted a hand to wipe away the tears beginning to form in your eyes. “It doesn’t matter what he said. What matters is that it was probably good that we broke up. He wouldn’t have been a good father or husband for that matter when it came down to it.”

“I’m proud of you for reaching out anyways. It takes a lot of guts to do that after someone leaves you.”

You nodded your head, “I’m just…I know I said you should keep coming here because you want to, but I really do like having you around. It just makes it seem simpler. Easier,” you looked over at him. “You’re a good friend Jamie, I love you.”

“Love you too,” he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead, watching as your attention turned back to your daughter as she finished feeding. 

You held her just like that in your arms for a little while longer, watching as she reached out for your fingers and then tried to go even further to grab James. Clearly her attention was addictive because he was ready to put his food down to help burp her, but you made a teasing remark about him hogging her and that he needed to eat his food so you’d take care of it and he could have her when he was done. 

Eventually, you traded Liana for James’ dishes and went to load the dishwasher while he kept her occupied, letting her gnaw on his tie while making all sorts of nonsensical baby noises that James took as conversation starters. 

It was funny to watch the two have what looked like a full blown conversation and you were sure James had been reading some parenting magazine or another that spoke of helping babies develop linguistic abilities. 

“Hey James,” you crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the wall. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you want a key?”

“A key to what?” he looked at you confused. 

“The house,” you said. “I just thought since you’re here all the time you can come and go whenever you want and if you forget something and I’m out you can come get it yourself.”

“A key,” he thought about it. “This feels like a big milestone moment.”

“I mean I already have the key to your place, but that was because you refused to have anyone look after you after you got your wisdom teeth removed.”

“Wait, you have my key?” 

“Yeah, I just took yours and had it copied,” you shrugged. 

“I feel like I should be a bit more concerned about this, but I’m not.”

“It’s because you’re friends with House, you’re used to it,” you waved him off. 

“Liana, did you know your mom’s a thief?” he looked down at the baby in his arms and you rolled your eyes. 

“Do you want the key or not?” 

“I’ll take it, and I guess you can keep mine, but I’m never there anyways.”

“It’s okay, I’ll just use it if I need to steal your social insurance card to commit identity theft.”

“Liana banana, your mom’s being very silly tonight,” James picked her up and held her out in front of him before bringing her down to press a few kisses to her face, making her giggle. “It’s okay, we still love mommy even though she’s silly, right?”

“You better,” you flicked his shoulder as you walked by after grabbing an ice cream sandwich from the freezer. 

“Hey, I’ve got something in my bag I forgot to give you, do you mind bringing it over here?” James asked, motioning to the briefcase on the armchair closest to the front door. 

You nodded your head and stood up again to grab it and pass it to him. He rummaged through it with one hand while still holding Liana before passing you what looked like a receipt. 

“Uh thanks?” you looked a little confused. 

“Read what it’s for,” James chuckled. “They’ll get delivered next week.” 

“James,” you put the receipt down. “You didn’t.” 

“You’ve been talking about it for four months, I had to do something,” he shrugged. “And I didn’t get you anything for your baby shower.” 

“Because you planned it,” you laughed. “Seriously this is a lot. I don’t know if I can accept this.” 

“Just think of it this way. I’m here all the time, we like to go out with Liana together and it’s a great stroller with good safety ratings.” 

“Okay sure you’ll use that, but the cot too?” 

“The one you have in there’s been recalled, I was just doing you a favour,” he said. 

You chuckled a little, pressing your lips together. “Liana, my darling, we are very spoiled.” 

“I’ll come over when it gets delivered and help set it up,” James said. 

“I still don’t know what to say, James, this is…really generous of you.” 

“Believe me, right now nothing makes me happier, and I mean that,” he reached out a hand to you and you took it, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

As promised, the next week James was back at your home to help set up the stroller and the cot and you figured it would be the right time to pull out that camcorder your father had gotten you to help record some memories you were making with Liana. 

“Hey, James wanna tell the camera what you’re doing?” 

“Wondering why I didn’t get a degree in engineering apparently.” he mumbled while hunched over some instructions, a pencil behind his ear and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“What does your assistant think?” you moved the camera over to Liana, sitting in a rocking seat that was propped up next to James. 

“That this video isn’t going to be very good for my image in the future. This stuff is worse than IKEA,” he scratched the back of his head. 

“You’re doing great,” you assured him and came to give him an encouraging side hug. “Alright, let me stop this video and we can try and tackle it together.” 

You put the camera down on the bed and looked over the instructions with James, having a bit of an easier time piecing things together compared to him, so in the end you were put on deciphering the instructions while he assembled the cot. 

An embarrassing amount of time later, the cot was completely assembled (only after having to disassemble it all the first time because there was one piece left over and you had no idea what step you had missed using it), and you carefully placed Liana inside to see how it would hold up. 

“You know they say you can be proud of something you built with your own two hands, but I’m afraid this is going to fall apart,” James said. 

“We followed the instructions really carefully, it should be fine,” you said, trying to convince yourself. “And Liana looks comfortable in there, look at her she’s giggling.” 

“I think that’s because we look like we’ve been building a house or something,” he looked between you, seeing your dirty clothes and messed up hair. 

“Who knew putting together a cot would be so labour intensive,” you chuckled. “I think we can safely say we deserve some takeout. What do you want?” 

“Anything, I’m starving,” James sat down on the edge of the bed. “You think this will help her sleep a little better?” 

“Let’s hope so,” you rubbed your temples. “You coming?” you asked, taking Liana out of the cot and carrying her out towards the door. 

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute,” he nodded and you left him in the room, staring at the wooden baby’s bed in front of him. It was a simple thing you had both made together, but for James, it was starting to feel like so much more than just that. 

You built a cot, but what did building a cot mean? What did it mean that he bought it for you without a second question or a moment’s hesitation? What did it mean that he couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off his face every single time he stepped into this house? 

It probably meant a lot of things, but at the moment, to James, it felt like he had a family and he’d hold onto that for as long as he was able to. 

—

As much as you wished it could be, not every day was easy. Today was one of those days at the end of a long week and you wanted nothing more than to collapse and call it quits. 

Something was wrong with Liana, she was never this fussy, but all the doctors would just repeat the same thing over and over again. 

She has colic. 

You have a colic-y baby. 

Your baby has colic. She’s going to be fine.

She didn’t sound fine. Not when she would cry and cry and you didn’t know what was happening or how to make her feel better. It made your heart feel tight and constricted especially when all you could do was bounce and rock her in hopes that it might soothe whatever was going on inside her. 

You were so focused on the sounds of the crying baby you didn’t hear the door unlock as James entered the house. After putting down his bags, he followed the sound of the crying before finding you in the rocking chair in your room, gently hushing Liana to try and coax her back to sleep. 

“James,” you tried to stand up when you noticed he was there, but he rushed over to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder and encouraging you to sit back down. “I’m afraid we’re not really having a fun day today. You might want to just go home and rest,” you suggested. 

“What’s going on?” he asked. 

“James, I’m serious I-,” 

“Hey,” he said gently, quieting you as a hand came to hold your cheek. “Talk to me, mom. What’s happening?” 

You pressed your lips together and shook your head. 

“I don’t know,” you let the tears spill from your eyes, just as they were for Liana, but you basked in the comfort James’ simple action offered. “She just keeps crying and I don’t know what’s wrong. T-They kept saying she has colic, but this isn’t colic, James.” 

He nodded his head and wiped away your tears while trying to think of a solution to the problem in front of you. 

“I have an idea, just give me a second, I’ll be right back.” 

James went off to the kitchen and came back with a bit of a white powder on his finger. He helped you sit Liana up before getting her to eat a little bit of it. 

“What is that?” 

“Just baking soda. I saw this in a few babies. Doctors think it’s colic, but it’s reflux. Have you been eating anything different from usual?” he asked. 

“Me?” 

“Yeah, it might be something she’s allergic to getting in the breast milk,” he explained while rubbing Liana’s back. “Here let me take her so you can have a break. Go to the kitchen, get some water and write down a list of what you’ve been eating recently and we’ll go over it and see if we can find anything that lines up with her fussiness.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’ll survive,” he nodded. 

You passed over your baby to him and made your way out of the room, following James’ suggestion and noticing how with a little bit of time her crying had quieted down and instead was replaced by softer sniffles and a much nicer sound. It drew you away from the list you were leaning over and back to the door of the bedroom where you leaned in the frame and watched and listened while James, with his back turned to you, sang a soft lullaby to Liana. 

I love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.

Over and over like a prayer until Liana’s sniffles had faded and there was only silence. 

He carefully put her back in her bed, waiting a few moments to make sure she was really sleeping, before turning back and seeing you standing in the doorway. 

When he made his way up to you, you reached out and pulled him into as tight of a hug as you’d ever given him. You held onto the sleeves of your shirt while one arm came under his and across his back with the other around his neck, holding him as close to you as you possibly could. 

“You okay?” James asked and you nodded your head, silently while a few more tears streamed down your face. 

“I will be.” 

“I-,” James faltered for a moment, but he said it anyway. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

Three words he had said so many times, that had meant a particular thing when he said them to you, but now he couldn’t help but feel like they meant something a little different. 

You both stayed like that a moment longer before you pulled apart, wiping away your tears and going back to your list to see if James’ theory could be correct. 

“Maybe try cutting these ones out of your diet,” he suggested. “See if she gets any better and if not call me and I’ll get her an appointment with one of the pediatricians at the hospital.” 

“Okay,” you nodded. “I just don’t get why they kept saying colic like is that just some doctor term for I don’t know what’s wrong, but your baby is fussy?” 

“I don’t know,” James shook his head, “but don’t ever let anyone bully you into not trusting your gut. She’s your daughter and you know her best.” 

“You seem to know her pretty well too. You took one look at her and managed to help her when I couldn’t,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“Coincidence,” he patted your shoulder. 

“Give yourself a little credit. You’re with her a lot too, it’s part of why I trust your judgement so much when it comes to her. I know you’re not just going to tell me some medical mumbo jumbo you…you’re with her, you see how she is, you know.” 

“I don’t know how you managed to hold it together so well,” James said. “I was in there with her for twenty minutes and I wanted to cry right with her.” 

“It’s so hard,” you shook your head. “You can tell she’s uncomfortable, that something’s wrong, but she can’t tell you what.” 

James nodded his head, “Before you know it she’ll be walking and talking and hopefully it’ll be a lot easier to understand what she needs.” 

“It’s hard to imagine that,” you chuckled. “She is growing so fast though.” 

“And you’re doing a great job,” James wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you took a deep breath. You wanted to correct him and say ‘we’re doing a great job’, but everything about this felt so delicate. It wasn’t his responsibility to parent Liana and you didn’t want to pressure him into thinking that it had become that, but regardless you felt like he’d been around so much it would be wrong to give yourself full credit for everything. 

“It takes a village,” you settled on saying, extending your arm so it was wrapped around him as well. “Speaking of a village, I need to hire a nanny.” 

“So you’re going to go back to work?” he asked and you nodded. 

“Just part time for now. Pay is good enough. I should be fine with that for a while.” 

“Good,” James nodded. “Do you need help going through resumes?” 

“Nah, Janine is taking care of that for me, her boyfriend works with the police so free background checks. She’s gonna send me a short list and then I’ll interview them.” 

You looked up at James and chuckled, 

“You seem surprised.” 

“I didn’t know you outsourced to other people too,” he teased. 

“Are you jealous, Jamie?” you tickled his sides a little bit. “Come on, you know you’re my number one. Can you seriously tell me you could have gotten police-level background checks on nannies?” 

“I could have tried.” 

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m gonna save you from this job so you can help me with other stuff, okay?” you turned him around and patted his chest. “I love you, James, but you can’t do it all. I have to look out for you too.” 

“You don’t have to look after me,” he assured you. “You’ve got a lot on your plate, I can take care of myself.” 

“James, that’s the whole point of this,” you pointed between you. “I’m not about to let it be one-sided.” 

“Is that why you keep packing me lunches?” he asked. 

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “And it's kind of fun leaving you little notes.” 

“House thinks I’m seeing someone because of what you put in the last one. He steals my food, you know.” 

“I’ll just pack double next time,” you laughed. 

James smiled at the sound of your laughter, savouring the moment of levity he was able to bring you after a long and hard few days. 

You looked back up at him once your laughter had died down and filled with a quiet sense of gratitude, you could help but lean into his side, sighing contentedly and it made you feel warm to the touch when his arm wrapped around you and pulled you in closer. 

Things may not have been simple or easy, but at least they felt right.

—

James was just about to leave his office to get some food in the cafeteria when he heard the phone ring, keeping him seated at his desk so he could answer. 

“Hello, Oncology Department. Dr. James Wilson speaking.”

“James, it’s me,” you said quickly, almost like you were in a hurry. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked. 

“Nothing dire,” you sighed. “My nanny got sick and my backup nanny is out of town and I have this huge meeting at work I cannot miss, but I-I don’t have anyone to look after Liana. I hate to ask this, you know I wouldn’t bug you unless it was a real emergency, but can I bring her by? Just for two maybe three hours tops. Then I’ll come grab her and she can be in my office with me for the rest of the day.”

“Yeah, of course, bring her over,” James nodded. “I have a few patient consults today, but nothing too strenuous or contagious for a small baby.”

“James, are you sure? I feel really bad asking-,”

“It’s fine. Today was going to be boring anyway, I could use some Liana time to spice things up.”

“James, I love you, you’re a lifesaver,” you breathed a sigh of relief. “I owe you one okay? Cash it in whenever.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he chuckled. “I’m gonna go grab a quick bite to eat. I’ll meet you in my office when you come.”

“Great, see you then.”

You both hung up and when James came back upstairs you were just arriving at his office with Liana strapped in her car seat and a bag slung around your shoulder. 

“Okay, I’ve got snacks, and a carrier, and her toys, and-,”

“Goodness, take a breath,” James chuckled. “We’re gonna be fine, I’ve looked after her before.” 

“I know, I know. I’m just nervous about this meeting and rushing around to get everything prepped and then the nannies fell through,” you took a deep breath to try and slow your heart down and James put a hand on your shoulder assuring you everything was going to be alright. 

“You’re gonna kill it at that meeting, alright?” he pulled you in for a quick hug. 

“Thanks again, I seriously appreciate and love you and your big fat heart.” 

“Thanks, I think,” he chuckled again. “I love you too.”

You kissed your hand and tapped it on his cheek before doing the same for Liana who smiled and James took a moment to stare out the door and watch you as you left the room, still feeling his heart beating a little faster after having said I love you. 

Ever since the day he came over when Liana was having a hard time, his heart would race and his palms would get sweaty every time he’d say those three words, knowing he meant it in a different way than he had been saying it all these years. 

“Liana banana, what am I gonna do,” James sighed and bent down so he was at eye level with her. “Do you think your mom knows?”

Liana babbled a response. 

“Me neither,” he sighed. “It’s okay though, cause we’re gonna have a fun day right?”

He unclipped her from the seat after fastening the baby carrier to his back to begin with before propping her up and clipping her inside. 

Once he was content with that, he checked the time and noticed he was almost late for a meeting with a patient who was staying at the hospital for treatment. 

James made his way down the halls, knowing not many would question him about the baby on his back, that was aside from his boss who now seemed to be walking directly towards him. 

He quickly took a detour into an empty room and thinking he lost her, let out a breath only to be startled when the door opened and Cuddy was standing in front of him. 

“Wilson,” she started. 

“Mhmm.”

“What’s on your back?” she asked, trying to get a better look, but James simply turned around.

“Oh it’s just a backpack,” he lied, only to be immediately ratted out by Liana’s nonsensical sounds. 

“You have a talking backpack?” Cuddy looked at him skeptically. 

“No, it’s a tumour. I’m dying,” he lied again, even more poorly than before.

Cuddy sighed, “Are we gonna get sued for it?” 

James pressed his lips together and shook his head. 

“Will someone get mad at you for it?”

He shook his head again.

“Is House involved?”

A third time. 

“Okay,” she nodded slowly. “I won’t question your…talking backpack tumour.”

James nodded his head and Cuddy left the room which hopefully meant he was in the clear for the rest of the day. 

Liana had other ideas and decided she didn’t like being in the carrier on his back anymore and began to cry. James wondered what was different, he’d done this with her before, but perhaps it was the new environment and she just wanted to be where she could see him.

So after some maneuvering, he changed the positioning of the carrier and put Liana back inside and she seemed much more relaxed afterwards. 

When he got to his patient he apologized for being late, but they were more focused on the child that James had yet to introduce. 

“Sorry, I’m a little all over the place right now,” he chuckled. “This is Liana, she’s going to be joining us today.”

“Is she your daughter?” he asked, seeing the way James smiled and held her when he introduced her. 

“No,” James shook his head. “She’s the daughter of one of my close friends. I’m just doing her a favour today.”

“Either way, it’s always nice to see someone smiling and happy around here.”

“Yeah, I thought so too,” James nodded. 

“How old is she?”

“Six months as of two weeks ago.”

“They grow fast, don’t they?”

James smiled and nodded, “They sure do.”

They continued their consult, and before long James wrapped things up and headed back to his office to meet with another patient. 

This time around he was feeding and burping Liana throughout the meeting and it felt so much like second nature to him, it didn’t take him away at all from the questions the patient was asking, and much like he expected, having a baby in the room was a nice distraction from the heavy subject matter. 

He got through the next few patients with ease, and he felt lucky that House only decided to come in after all his meetings were over. 

“Is that a baby?” House squinted, looking at Liana who was calmly playing with a toy in James’ lap. 

“No, it’s an alien,” he deadpanned and House ignored his comment. 

“Why do you have a baby? That must be breaking some hospital rule.”

“Since when do you care about rules?”

“Cause rules are there to protect us,” House said sarcastically. “Is this the one you spend all your free time with?”

“Her name is Liana,” James said while standing up and moving to put her in her car seat for a moment. “House, I’m gonna ask you to do something and I’m going to trust that you won’t blow this up in my face.”

“Go on.”

“I need to use the washroom, but you’ve seen the way they get cleaned here, I don’t want to bring Li with me,” he said. “Can you watch her for five minutes? You don’t even have to do anything, just stare at her in the carrier.”

House thought about it for a moment before eventually agreeing, James completely oblivious to his friend’s ulterior motive.

House first sat across from her, turning her car seat around on the table so it was facing him. They stared at each other for a few moments before House stood up and grabbed a picture from one of James’ shelves, sitting back down in front of her. 

“You’re probably too young to do this, but never too young to learn, right?”

Liana had no response. 

“You see this guy?” House pointed to James in the photo. “He’s dada, right?”

House continued to prompt her, even though he knew she was too young to speak, thinking this would make a great prank if he played his cards right. 

House continued to go back and forth with Liana between her babbles, until he heard James begin to open the door of the office. 

“Everything okay?” he asked. 

“Perfect,” House nodded. “Your daughter’s an angel.” 

James frowned, unable to tell if House was being sarcastic or not, but he was quickly distracted by the frame in his hand.

“Why do you have that picture?” James came closer and took it from him.

“Oh, just trying to pass the time with a story.” 

“The story of what exactly? This is just a picture of me with my parents.” 

“I don’t know I made something up, she’s a baby, she won’t remember,” House insisted before leaving the office before James could ask any more questions. 

A little confused by the encounter, he made his way over to Liana who was reaching out for him. 

He checked the time, seeing as your meeting should probably have been over by then and decided to give you a call. 

“Hey, I was just about to come and pick Liana up,” you said. 

“Yeah, about that, do you just want to leave her with me for the rest of the day?” he asked. “She’s been really good and honestly I think the patients have been loving seeing a baby around.” 

“James, it’s fine, my meeting is over. I can come get her,” you said. 

James pressed his lips together before gathering the nerve to say what he was going to say. 

“I actually would really like it if she could stay with me,” he said. “If you’re okay with it.”

You paused, “This isn’t just some round about way for you to find a way to give me a break?” you asked. 

“No, I’m really happy she’s here. I was going to come over after work anyways.” 

“You still have the car seat hookup in your car?” you asked and he confirmed. “Okay, call me if you need anything, Jamie.” 

“I will, and thank you.” 

“Just don’t break her, okay, she’s not replaceable,” you teased. 

“I’ll bring her back in one piece,” James chuckled. “We’ll be fine, right Li?” 

James gave her a little tickle so that you could hear her laugh in response and you couldn't help but smile before saying goodbye and feeling more at ease leaving her with James than you ever had leaving her with a babysitter. 

—

It always felt interesting coming back to Princeton-Plainsboro after you had given birth to Liana. It brought back a lot of memories, both good and maybe not so great of your pregnancy, but recently you and Liana had been visiting a little more often to have lunch with James when you weren’t working. 

Today wasn’t one of those days, you were actually just on your way back home after running a few errands and since you were in the area you thought you might stop in and talk to James about that evening. 

When you went by his office you peeked inside and noticed he wasn’t there and before you could decide the best course of action, you heard a semi familiar voice behind you. 

“You looking for Wilson?” 

You turned around and saw House standing in front of you. 

“Yeah, actually. Do you know where he is?” 

“I think he just went to Cuddy’s office,” he said. 

“Alright, I’ll head back downstairs then,” you smiled and were about to haul Liana’s car seat with you, but House stopped you. 

“If you want I can look after her in my office,” he said.

“Really?” you seemed a little surprised from the offer, but figured it couldn’t be too bad to leave her with him for five minutes. 

“Sure,” House nodded, making it seem like it was no big deal, when really he had already pocketed a picture of James and was looking for another opportunity to continue his prank. 

“Alright, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” you said while walking over to his office and putting her car seat on the main table before walking down the hallways and over to the elevator to go and find James, but just to your luck, he was coming out just as you had planned to enter. “Hey, I was looking for you,” you smiled. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were coming, did we make plans?” he asked, worried he’d forgotten about something. 

“No, I was just in the area and, well my mom and dad are coming over for dinner tonight, I was wondering if you wanted to join us.” 

“Dinner sounds nice,” James nodded. “And I haven’t seen your parents in a while, I just seem to miss them every time they come into town.” 

“Yeah, that’s why I thought I’d ask, also maybe as a warning in case you wanted to get as far away as you could,” you chuckled. 

“Come on, they’re not that bad,” he nudged you. 

“Most of the time, but then again, you’re not their child.” 

“Wait, where’s Liana?” James asked. “With a sitter at home?” 

“No, I left her with House.” 

James’ eyes went wide, “You left her with House?”

“Yeah, what’s the big deal?” you chuckled as James began to walk towards House’s office to make sure he wasn’t up to one of his many schemes. “James he offered!” you called back and that only made him walk faster. 

It took you a minute to catch up with him, but by that time he was already interrogating House who was simply sitting in front of Liana. 

“Can't I offer to look after my friend’s friend’s baby?” House asked. 

“Usually someone could, but when that person is you you may see why I think you have some ulterior motive.” 

“James what’s going on?” you asked, coming closer to House. “Liana’s fine, I don’t know why you’re being so dramatic.” 

“Yeah, listen to single mom over here,” he pointed to you. 

James backed off if only for your sake, but he still kept a close eye on House as you picked up Liana’s car seat and told James you’d see him after his shift was over. 

He nodded his head and you exchanged a kiss on the cheek before heading out. 

“You’re really telling me you’re not getting some of that on the side?” House asked. 

“House, drop it,” James was unamused. “I know you’re up to something, I just don’t know what.” 

“I guess you’re just going to have to wait and find out,” House shrugged. “In the meantime may I suggest you go get your freak on with the mom? You know she probably hasn’t slept with anyone since that kid was conceived, I’m sure you’d have an easy time convincing her.” 

“Shut up, House,” James rolled his eyes and left the office before he could suggest anything more obscene. 

He was thankful when the end of his shift came, and before heading to your place he made a stop at the store to buy some flowers and dessert to bring over. 

By this point, it was such a habit, he never knocked, just opened the door with his key and announced his presence to whoever was in the house. 

“Hey Liana, look who’s here,” you smiled and pointed to James while Liana was being held by your mother. 

Liana became very excited at the sight of him and he quickly put down the things he brought on the table before saying his greetings and giving special attention to Liana by means of a kiss on her nose and caress of her face. 

“Do you want something to drink?” you asked. “Mom and dad brought some fancy-looking sparkling fruit juice.” 

“I could go for some of that,” James nodded. “How have you guys been, I missed you the last time you were in town.” 

“We’ve been good,” your dad nodded. 

“Unfortunately our granddaughter doesn’t come to visit us very much,” your mom gave you a bit of a look and you rolled your eyes. 

“Mom, you guys are retired, I have a job, why don’t we keep this ‘you visit me’ arrangement a while longer until my life sorts itself out a bit more.” 

“She’s not wrong, honey,” your dad came and patted his wife’s shoulder. 

“I know, I just wish we got to see Liana more. We should come down more often.” 

“What about you, James, anything new in your life?” 

James looked over at you before shaking his head. 

“No, still working at the same place still…” 

“Trying to find the right person,” you filled in for him, placing a hand on his shoulder and handing him his drink. 

“Yeah,” he nodded with a soft smile and couldn’t help but laugh a little internally at the irony. Maybe the right person had been there all along, the person he’d never once pulled away from, the person he let take care of him, the person who he’d realized he’d most definitely fallen in love with, but risking things between you was out of the question so he would have to be content with the way things were. 

“You’re the head of your department, right?” your mom asked and James nodded. “Wow, that’s quite something, your parents must be proud of you.” 

“Yes, it never fails to come up in conversation with my mother,” he chuckled. 

Liana began to fuss a little bit in her grandmother’s arms and after a few failed attempts at calming her down James offered to take over. 

“Are you sure, honey?” she asked. “She gets a bit cranky and it’s hard to calm her down.” 

“Don’t worry mom, James is an expert,” you assured her. 

James nodded and confirmed he was sure before gently bouncing Liana until she stopped crying and wiping away whatever tears of hers were remaining. 

“She seems very attached to you,” your dad remarked and James looked down at Liana who now had her head resting against his chest. 

“The feeling’s quite mutual,” James chuckled. “Does she need to be fed?” he asked you. 

“Yeah we’re probably getting close to that time now, I’ll warm up the bottle. Maybe I can feed her and you can deal with the sauce on the stove, it’s missing something and I can’t place it.” 

“Sure,” James nodded and waited for you to heat up Liana’s bottle before passing her over and taking a turn at the stove. 

Your parents watched your interactions curiously and shared a few looks between themselves, but chose to say nothing. They’d known James since you were both nineteen and a lot of things had happened since then, but a lot of time had passed too. It was interesting how your comfort with each other in friendship had so naturally extended itself in this way that you were practically functioning as a family whether you noticed it, or maybe deliberately chose to ignore it. 

After you fed Liana and burped her, she was quick to fall asleep and you placed her in her cot in your room before joining James and your parents in the kitchen where they were bringing things to the dining room to lay them out on the table.

“This looks really delicious sweetheart, thank you for making dinner,” your dad said. “And you too James for taking over there in the home stretch.” 

“For all we know it could have tasted terrible before he came in so he can take the credit for that,” you chuckled. 

“No, I gave it a taste before adding anything. It just needed a little something sour to balance some things out, otherwise it was perfect,” he assured you. 

Dinner with your parents was mostly small talk. They shared a little about some of your relatives they had recently spoken to or visited and asked James how his family was doing and they left fairly early to start the drive back home. 

“I’ll load the dishes you put away the leftovers?” James yawned and you chuckled. 

“How about I do both since I had a day off and you go and lay down for a bit,” you suggested. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about I’m fine,” James waved his hand but yawned again. 

“Go to sleep, James. That’s not a suggestion,” you walked up to him. “My ex left some sweatpants here you can change into those and take off this button up,” you tugged at his shirt. 

James pressed his lips together and nodded his head, before heading over to the bedroom and quietly getting changed before climbing into bed and not fighting the sleep that came. 

He initially wasn’t sure how much later it was when he woke up, but by the looks of it much too late to go come considering you were next to him, despite being groggy, he had a million and one things crossing his mind, but all of those were thrown out when he heard Liana begin to cry. 

You shifted next to him, waking up to go and take care of it, but James put an arm on your shoulder. 

“I’ve got it, go back to sleep,” he assured you. 

You were too tired to argue with him and let your head hit the pillow again while he stood up and picked Liana up from her crib, heading out to the kitchen so he could heat up a bottle for her before coming back and sitting in the chair to feed her. 

You watched the scene in front of you and you felt yourself wanting to memorize every detail. How he held her, the quiet things he whispered, the way she curled into his arms while he stood up and rocked her back to sleep. 

When he came back to the bed he noticed you were awake and he let out a soft chuckle and you smiled looking up at him with his messy hair. Suddenly you were nineteen again and banging on the door of cabin 3 trying to wake your fellow counsellor to come and deal with an emergency. To you he looked the same as he did all those years ago. 

“I told you to go back to sleep.” 

“Not everyone can fall asleep instantly,” you yawned with a chuckle. 

“You didn’t wake me up to leave,” he said quietly, his head resting on his hand that propped him up. 

“You always look so peaceful when you sleep, I feel evil whenever I have to wake you up,” you remarked, but behind your eyes if he could see through the darkness of the room, he would have seen them saying something else. That you wanted him to stay, you didn’t want to wake him up because you wanted to wake up next to him. “You don’t mind do you?” 

“That you’re making me do the walk of shame in the morning?” James teased and shook his head. 

“Just shut up and go back to sleep, Jamie,” you yawned with a chuckle. 

He moved so he was laying down on his back with an arm behind his head and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Maybe he could feel you staring because he reached his other arm out and pulled you closer and you moved with him until your head rested against his chest, your arm draped over top of him. 

He gave you a gentle squeeze with the arm that was wrapped around you and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Goodnight, Jamie,” you mumbled into his shirt. 

You couldn’t see how he looked down and smiled at you after you said that, all that filled your ears was a quiet, “Goodnight.”

—

“I haven’t seen you in a few days, how have you been?” 

James sat on the carpet of the living room, playing with Liana who was crawling around him while you brought over two mugs of tea so you could chat while you entertained the growing baby. 

“Good for the most part, just had a patient who wasn’t doing so great so I spent some extra time at the hospital to keep an eye on things. Not to mention House has been bugging me to go out and it’s been a while so I figured what’s the harm.”

“He got you plastered and you made a fool of yourself, didn’t he?” you asked and James nodded while you laughed. “Liana, did James go out with House and act like an idiot?” you tickled the ten month old and she giggled before coming closer to you, tapping on your legs with her hands. 

“Don’t listen to your mama, Li, she’s trying to-,”

“Mama,” Liana repeated after James had spoken and you both stopped dead in your tracks. 

You looked over at James and his smile was just as wide as yours before you picked Liana up and smothered her with kisses. 

“Liana, look at you! You said your first word!”

“Good job, Liana banana,” James grinned and gave her cheek a little pinch which made her reach out to him and say, 

“Dada.”

You both had a similar reaction to what happened moments ago, only this time it was pure shock. Maybe you had misheard her, but when she repeated herself, James could feel his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. 

“I-I don’t know where she learnt that from,” he told you. “I swear I didn’t teach her that.”

It took a minute for the shock to fade away for you, but once it did you tried to assure James that it was okay. 

“I believe you,” you said. “I-I don’t know where she picked it up from, but it’s okay.”

James chewed on his lip, it wasn’t okay though because he wanted nothing more than to hear Liana say that again. 

“It’s not though,” James said softly. “I love her, but I’m not her dad. That’s not fair to her or to you.”

“Jamie,” you pleaded with him, but he still seemed stuck on something. 

“I’m really sorry,” he apologized again. “I feel like I ruined a special moment.”

“I’m trying to tell you it really doesn’t matter,” you assured him, you could see it in his eyes, he wanted to leave, to let you have time alone, but you didn’t want to be alone, you wanted him to stay with you. “Please…please stay.”

James reached out his hand to hold yours and was about to give you his answer when his pager went off. 

Your heart clenched and you watched as he read the message and sighed, standing up because he was needed again at the hospital. 

“Your patient?” you asked, picking Liana up and standing next to him. 

He nodded his head, “They were scheduled for an unrelated surgery and there were some complications, I have to go.”

You understood and James wrapped you in a tight hug and you kissed his cheek. 

“I love you, Jamie.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, wishing he could hold onto you and never let you go, but instead he was pulled away from your warm embrace wondering how on earth Liana had learnt to call him dad. 

—

“You look like you haven’t slept in days, spending time with the baby again?” House asked, waltzing into James’ office. 

“No, I haven't been over in a few days,” James shook his head. 

“You haven’t been over in a few days…Something happened,” House deduced and James gave him a look. 

“Nothing happened. I’m just taking a break,” he lied. 

“You’ve been going non-stop to spend time with them since the baby was born ten months ago, why do you need a break now?” 

“Because I have a lot on my mind and there’s a few new patients I need to focus on-,” 

“You’re lying.” 

“Yes I am,” James admitted and House grinned. 

“Really?” 

“No, I’m not,” he shook his head and continued to look down and do his work. 

“We do this every single time and every single time I’m right,” House said. “Why don’t we save the back and forth for another time and just skip to the part where you tell me what’s going on.” 

“Oh really and you were right that time you thought I was cheating on my wife and she was the one cheating on me?” he asked. 

“Okay, so I’m not perfect,” House shrugged. “What happened, Wilson? I could just as easily get your friend’s number and ask directly if that’s what you’d prefer.” 

“God no,” James shook his head. “Leave her alone, she doesn’t need to deal with you on top of working and raising a child.” 

“Alright then, what happened?” 

James took a deep breath and sighed, “Liana called me dad the other day. I have no idea where she learnt it from.” 

“She started speaking,” House nodded, pressing his lips together. “Was it her first word or-,” 

“Second. She said mom first,” James said, but caught a glimpse of his friend trying to fight back a smile and suddenly all the offers to take care of Liana paired with the photographs made sense. “You taught her!” he exclaimed. “House I can’t believe you’d pull a prank on me by manipulating my friend’s baby!” 

“Oh come on, it’s not that big of a deal,” House rolled his eyes. 

“House, I cannot believe you!” 

“You’re not mad at me,” House shook his head. “You’re just mad you liked it.” 

“No I’m-,” 

“Yes, you are,” the diagnostician emphasized. “You’ve been sitting here tearing yourself apart for the past four days because she called you dad and you liked it. You’re mad at yourself for liking it because she’s not your kid.” 

“No,” James quieted down. “She’s not.” 

“You haven’t gone back because you’re afraid to hear her say it again, aren’t you?” 

“Since when did you become an expert on my personal problems, House? You caused this, why should I listen to anything you have to say?” 

“Because you’re being an idiot. You’re punishing yourself for liking something. Do you realize how insane that sounds?” 

“It’s not insane, House, she’s not my baby-,” 

“Sure, she’s not your baby and you have her feeding and nap routine memorized. You’ve been to her doctor's appointments, she’s calmer in your arms than she is in the arms of her grandparents. Yeah, go and tell that to any moron sitting out there and they’ll tell you for me, you’re being an idiot.” 

James sighed again, “And why do you care?” 

“Because once you’re done with this spiral we can go back to the way things were when you weren’t a boring depressed lump.” 

“How kind of you,” James faked a smile. 

House’s pager went off, leaving James alone again in his office, thinking about what his friend had said. 

You’d told him so many times that things were okay, but maybe a part of him didn’t want to let him believe that you didn’t mind because that was a slippery slope to him facing himself and his feelings and he didn’t care what his heart was telling him, he wouldn’t put himself through that. He wouldn’t put you and Liana through that. But at the same time, he couldn’t keep himself away forever. He didn’t want that either.

So with a deep breath he picked up his office phone and dialled your number, putting it up to his ear and waiting for the line to connect on the other end. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, it’s me.” 

“James,” your voice sounded almost relieved. “H-Hey, how are you?” 

He pressed his lips together, “Miserable, actually. I miss you guys.” 

“We miss you too,” you chuckled with a small sniffle. 

“C-Can I come over for dinner tonight?” he asked. 

“You still have a key, what do you think?” you asked with a bit of a laugh. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

“Yeah, see you then,” James smiled and after he hung up the phone he took a deep breath, his fast heartbeat slowing down by the second. 

Maybe this time House was right.

—

The next few weeks passed by and things resumed to their normal state, much to House’s delight. James’ role as department head always meant at least one day a week where he would stay late and do some extra paperwork, dealing with anything that may have slipped through the cracks before. 

This time, that had fallen on a Sunday and it was just past dinner when he heard a knock on his door and wondering who was on the other end he called for them to come in. 

You opened the door a crack and again asked permission to come in and James smiled at you, looking up from his paperwork, not expecting to see you in the hospital. 

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting to see you here, what’s going on?” 

“I just wanted to drop by and bring you something for dinner, I know it’s your paperwork day.” 

“Thanks, that’s really sweet of you,” he stood up from his chair and came to stand in front of his desk, leaning back on it while you placed the take out bag on the table. “Where’s Liana?” 

“Oh Helen’s looking after her tonight,” you said. “I had a few things I needed to do and um just wanted the evening off,” you admitted. 

“Fair enough,” James nodded. 

“I actually brought you something else,” you rolled back and forth on the balls of your feet and James noticed the tension in your stature. “H-Here,” you handed him a gift bag which he eyed curiously. 

Today wasn’t his birthday or some memorable event you celebrated together. There wasn’t much of a reason to get him a present which made it all the more intriguing. 

He pulled out a wrapped rectangular box from the bag, and putting the bag aside he began to carefully tear away the wrapping paper to reveal what looked like a picture frame. Overlaid on the frame, on top of the photo, James noticed a card which he unfolded to read its contents. 

Happy Father’s Day. We love you loads. - Liana and Mom

James moved the card to see the picture and put his hand over his mouth, feeling tears involuntarily form in his eyes as he saw the familiar scene of your room, lit by the light of your lamp as Liana was fast asleep against his chest while he napped on the armchair. 

James quickly wiped away the few tears that were in his eyes and looked up at you with a grateful smile, looking back down at the image before placing it neatly on his desk along with the card. 

“I hope you like it,” you said quietly, biting your lip. “I thought you might want to have a copy of that picture and…you know just a thank you for everything you’ve done for me and Liana this past year.” 

“I love it,” he assured you. “I-I love it and I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you smiled.

“N-No,” James came closer and reached out, taking your hands in his. “I…I love you. I’m in love with you.” 

“Jamie,” you spoke in a breathy whisper, unsure of how you lost your voice. “I-,” you opened your mouth to speak again, but paused when James raised a hand to your face, wiping away the tears you didn’t even notice had begun to stream down. 

“I just don’t want to be away from you, ever,” he said softly. “I never did. And now with Liana, I want to be there, for all of it.” 

You held the wrist of his hand that held your face, pulling him in closer so your foreheads rested against each other. 

You took in a shaky breath, thinking back on those words. Something you’d been saying to each other for longer than you could remember. The first time was so clear in your mind, you were on the phone racking up long distance charges while James was in Montreal. It had slipped out by accident, a reflex, and you had convinced yourself when the phone had hung up you’d never call him back, unable to face what you’d just said, but before you could spiral any further, he said it back and you never stopped saying it.

For the longest time that was the only occurrence that was memorable, everything else was a blur, that was until a few months ago. It was so simple, you had fallen asleep on the couch and James had made sure Liana was fed and bathed and even cleared up some things in the kitchen before sitting on the couch with some tea and a book. You had talked and said I love you as a thank you, but when the words left your mouth they also left a lingering airiness in your heart, a feather light feeling that came crashing down like an anvil when he left to go home because you realized you never wanted to be apart from him.

It took you a few moments to realize you hadn’t said anything and James was anxiously waiting for some sort of communication, anything, but since the meaning of your words had changed, for both of you, you thought it might be more conducive to work in actions.

You closed in the space between you, at first gently resting your lips on his and letting him lead you in a soft and slow kiss, putting aside all the restraint you both had been using these past months in an effort to protect your friendship.

One of James’ hands held onto your waist, pulling you in so that there was no space left between you. He kissed you again and again, remembering each one as a core memory, engraved in his mind, paired with the feeling of your arms wrapped around his neck, the feeling of your body pressed so closely against his, his heart beating outside of his chest. 

It was easy for his lips to trail away from yours, moving along your jaw, to your temple before you had pulled each other into a warm embrace, simply existing in each other’s arms. James thought to himself what a nice life it would be, not ever having to pull away. 

—

“I don’t have much to say,” James smiled. “Everything is looking good, you still seem 100% healthy to me.” 

“That’s great news.” 

“It definitely is. Standard procedure, but we’ll have one more of these remission follow ups to make sure everything is still in order then you hopefully won’t have to see me again.” 

“Thank you Dr. Wilson, I really appreciate all you’ve-.” 

“Dad!” 

“Sweetheart, wait he’s with a patient!” 

James turned his head and saw Liana running over to him, you valiantly trying to chase after her without much success. 

He quickly scooped her up in his arms before she crashed into him, pressing a big kiss to her cheek. 

“Sorry about that,” James apologized. “It’s Saturday, we normally have lunch together.” 

“No worries,” he chuckled. 

“Liana, this is my patient Mr. Kimbilio, can you say hi?” 

Liana waved and said hi, very exuberantly. 

“This is my daughter,” James introduced. “And that’s my wife,” he pointed over to you. 

“Daughter,” Mr. Kimbilio smiled. “I think I met you Liana, when you were very small. Your father was looking after you at work and so some of his patients got to meet you.” 

“Really?” she looked up at her dad and he nodded. 

“He’s right, I remember that,” James smiled. “You’ve grown a lot since then, haven’t you Li,” he kissed her cheek again and she giggled.

You finally caught up to the group and James greeted you with a quick kiss, passing Liana off to you so he could wrap things up and you could all go down to the cafeteria for lunch together. 

“If I remember correctly,” Mr. Kimbilio started. “You didn’t introduce her as your daughter the first time we met. I’m glad something changed.” 

“Me too,” James smiled, looking over at his wife and daughter fondly who were now in the midst of making him very proud by pulling off a small prank on House as he came out of his office. 

It didn’t take much longer for them to wrap things up and you and Liana made a quick pit stop inside James’ office before heading downstairs.

Liana went to go sit in James’ seat while he put away his files and organized them. 

It had been a while since you’d been in his office, but it felt like ever since the night you first kissed things had begun to change in the room. 

His desk was now more littered with photos than knickknacks and Liana’s artwork was posted wherever there was room. 

You came around to the other side, looking a little more closely at the pictures. 

There was one of you, James, and Liana on your wedding day, another of just the two of you during an anniversary celebration, Liana’s kindergarten photo from school and another one of you as a family on your last vacation. And still as prominent as ever, the framed photo you had gifted James on his first father’s day. 

“You ready to go?” he asked you, looking up and noticing your eyes gazing at the pictures on his desk. 

When you didn’t initially respond, too focused on what you were looking at, James wrapped an arm around you and tilted your chin towards him so he could press a kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” you smiled and James kissed you again, saying.

“And I love you,” before moving over to pick up Liana and kiss her cheek. “And you.”

Liana giggled, feeling tickled by the kisses and moving to give both of you a kiss on the cheek before saying. 

“Mom, Dad, I’m starving. Can we go eat now?”

“Sure, Liana banana,” James chuckled and you wrapped an arm around him, walking side by side out of the office and in the direction of the elevator to get to the cafeteria, thinking you were pretty lucky that in the end, your best friend listened to his heart and went after what he wanted.

TAGLIST —

@cuntyvicodin @paola-carter @kiddbegins @il0vebeingdelulu @illicit4ff4irs @lynnsthoughts @miarabanana @iwmflbb @shots-of-wilson-and-whiskey @sarcasm-and-stiles @sun-flower-mad @x-uno @han11dh @qardasngan @alexxavicry

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

Have Faith In Me - GF!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader - Part 1

I said I'd never let you go, and I never did. I said I'd never let you fall, and I always meant it.

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: After leaving Woodsboro for a fresh start, you’re shaken up when Ghostface resurfaces. Little did you know, the person you were in love with is a part of it.

Contains: Oral - f receiving, p in v, unprotected sex(pulling out thooo), angst at the end💁🏼‍♀️

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I NEEDED to write another Ghostface Ethan fic. And then I realized I don’t have a series yet where he’s the bad guy, so here ya go💕Also, still working on Creep part 2 even though its been a while(I think I made it a little too much lmao).

You were never supposed to know that Ethan had a part in why people were being murdered, at least not yet. He was disappointed in himself for being so careless, so stupid. His thoughts were racing as he tried to think of anything he could say to you to make you want to keep quiet. He knew his dad and sister would be furious if their plan was destroyed because of Ethan’s negligence, but he was more worried about your safety, which he’d already begged his family for.

It started off as a normal day. Well, not really. After two students and a professor were killed close to campus, your morning classes had been cancelled for the day. With the recent killings, you didn’t want to be alone. You called Ethan, your boyfriend’s groggy voice making you smile once he answered.

“Were you still sleeping?” you asked, as he yawned.

“Classes are cancelled. What else am I supposed to do?” he asked, as you giggled. “Wait, what are you doing today? Are you by yourself?”

“Yeah, I was going to call Tara, but I know she’s probably exhausted from being questioned all night,” you said, as he dramatically scoffed at your words.

“So I was the second person you wanted to call,” he said, the fake annoyance in his voice making you roll your eyes. “You should come to my dorm. We can cuddle, watch movies, and Chad’s not here so we can do some other stuff, too.”

“I can’t believe you’re suggesting sex when there’s someone out here killing people. That’s one of the first rules, don’t have sex,” you said, as Ethan started to chuckle.

“Okay, Mindy,” he teased, “You sounded just like her for a second.”

“Hey, I want to live, and I want you to live, too,” you said, as you slid your shoes on your feet. “I’m leaving now, I’ll be at your dorm soon.”

Your dorm was only one building away from Ethan’s, so the walk was very short, and the sun was shining, but you were still nervous as you walked a little faster to get to his dorm, just in case. You’d had previous encounters with Ghostface in Woodsboro, and after Judy was killed right in front of her house in the middle of the day, you felt like you could never be too careful.

When you made it to Ethan’s dorm, you knocked before the door opened, a sleepy smile on his face as he stepped to the side to let you come in. He was shirtless, his flannel pajamas hanging lowly on his hips. You bit your lip for a second as you checked him out, before he cleared his throat.

Your eyes snapped from his abs to his face, his lips twisted into a smirk as you felt your blush spread across your cheeks.

"You checking me out?" he teased as he walked over to you, his hand going underneath your chin to tilt your head up before he leaned down to kiss you.

"Mhm," you mumbled into the kiss. He stood there, his lips on yours for a minute before he pulled away.

He sat on his bed, making grabby hands at you as you sat down beside him. When he laid back to relax his head on the pillows, you moved with him, your head resting on his chest as your legs tangled with his.

"Do you want to talk about what's going on? With the Ghostface stuff?" he asked after a few minutes of silence. "I know this must be scarier for you than it is for me."

You sighed as his hand ran over your hip, thinking about how terrifying everything was in Woodsboro the year before. You were trying so hard to not think too much into it, because you were sure you survived last time out of pure luck, and the odds of you making it out unscathed again wasn't very likely.

You didn't even know your eyes were watering until the tears trickled, running over your cheekbone before they made it to Ethan's bare chest.

"Hey, are you okay?" Ethan asked, as you sat up and placed your face in your hands. He sat up, too, pulling your hands away so he could see you. Guilt for what he and his family had done and everything they still had to do punched him in the chest once he saw your panicked, red eyes, and your bottom lip quivering. "I won't let anything happen to you, baby."

"I just can't believe this is happening. We thought leaving Woodsboro meant we would never have to deal with this again," you said, your voice shaking as Ethan offered a sympathetic smile. "When I tried to sleep last night, all I could see behind my eyelids was Sam's psycho boyfriend running at me with his knife."

Ethan shook his head, trying to remain calm. He knew Richie tried to kill you that night before he met you, because he read all the police reports and files his dad got after everything happened. At first, you were supposed to be just another body that was going to drop before the Kirsch family fled the country. At least, that was the plan before Ethan fell in love with you.

"I promise you, you're going to be okay. I won't let anything happen to you," he said, a small sob slipping past your lips.

"You can't promise that nothing will happen to me, Ethan," you said, wiping the tears off your cheeks. "Just like I can't promise that nothing will happen to you."

Ethan pulled you close to him before he kissed the top of your head.

"I don't want you to be alone. If you aren't with me, I want you with someone at all times, okay?" he said, as you nodded. "Are you going to Tara's when I have to leave for Econ later?"

"Yeah, will you walk me there before you go to class tonight?"

"Of course, baby."

You still had a few hours before he had to leave for class, so you cuddled up with him and decided to watch something funny to lighten the somber mood. As you and Ethan laughed, the terrifying reality that was your life wasn't weighing as heavy on your mind, because you really did feel safe with him. You knew he'd protect you if it came down to it.

You kept stealing glances at your boyfriend's still-shirtless body, paying extra attention to the way his arms flexed whenever he shifted beside you. It didn't take long for Ethan to notice, and once he realized that you had stopped watching the movie and was more interested in watching him, he leaned over to shut his laptop.

"Do you not want to watch the movie anymore?" you asked, as you quickly looked up to look at his face, the same smirk from earlier back on his lips.

"It didn't seem like you did," he teased, as he leaned in to kiss you. "Do you think oral counts in the whole 'Don't have sex' thing?"

"Is this your way of asking me to suck your dick?" you said, laughing a little as he bit his bottom lip.

"No, this is me asking to eat you out," he said, your eyes growing wide at his words, your breath hitching in your throat. "If you want me to."

"I don't think oral counts," you said, your smirk matching his before he pushed you back and hovered over you, connecting his lips to yours. "We do have to leave soon-ish, though, if you're going to walk me to Tara's before class."

"I have plenty of time to make you cum," he mumbled against your lips, before he pulled away to sit up.

His hands went to your leggings, hooking his fingers under the waistband before he slid them down your thighs. After they were off, his hand went straight to your pussy, teasing you as he rubbed you over the material that was getting wetter by the second in between your legs.

You relaxed under his touch, your legs spreading wider for him as he added a little more pressure. One of Ethan's favorite things in bed was teasing you, because he loved how whiny your voice sounded when you couldn't take it anymore, but as he thought more about the time he didn't have, he quickly pulled your panties down, leaving the lower half of your body exposed to him.

He scooted further down the bed, and once he was settled between your thighs, his eyes connected with your needy ones. He watched you as his tongue connected with your pussy, your mouth parting as you took a deep breath.

One of your hands lazily rested in his curls as he placed gentle licks to your clit, every thought running through your mind fading as you focused on how he was making you feel. The anticipation for him to do more had your skin tingling, but before you had the chance to say anything, his mouth moved lower, his tongue dipping inside your dripping pussy.

He was alternating between swirling his tongue inside of you and licking from your entrance to your clit, your hips squirming at the feeling as he tried to keep you still.

"Fuck," you moaned, your hand tangled tightly in his hair as you looked down at him. His mouth moved even faster, eating your pussy like he was craving it. He sucked your clit into his mouth, the delicious pressure making your back arch off the bed. "Oh my god," you whimpered, his teeth gently grazing it before he sucked a little harder.

Ethan knew that feeling was starting to build as he watched you, your brows furrowing, your whimpers slipping out through the corners of your mouth as your teeth tightly held your bottom lip. You felt his fingers prodding at your entrance before he slid his middle and ring ringer into you with ease, and he wasted no time to curve them, making sure to hit that spot.

"So close," you whimpered, as he chuckled with your clit in his mouth and kept going.

Your hand in his hair was shaking, your toes were curling against his sheets, your breathing was so heavy. Ethan loved seeing you like this, so close to the edge, and knowing he was the one that was making you feel that pleasure made his cock throb even harder than it already was.

He pressed his fingers a little harder, the feeling making your eyes roll back as you whined out, the hot feeling spreading across your body as your thighs clenched around his head. You were a whimpering mess as your body rocked from the waves of pleasure running through it.

As you came down from your high, your body relaxing against his bed as he pulled away, he watched you in awe as you caught your breath. He always thought you were beautiful, but your post-orgasm glow was his favorite. You lazily opened your eyes to see him staring at you, a smile playing on your lips.

"I know it's against the rules, but I need to have you inside of me," you said, as he laughed and slid his pajamas and boxers down in one swift motion.

"Condom or no condom?" he asked, waiting for your answer before he crawled on top of you.

"Just pull out," you said, a smirk playing on your lips as he quickly got settled between your legs.

"We have to be quick," he said, glancing over at the Star Wars clock on his night stand. "Is that okay?"

"Mhm," you said, as he slid inside of you.

He gave you a minute, his thrusts slow as your pussy adjusted to his size, before he sped up. You clung to his biceps as his hands were pressed flatly against his bed on either side of you, the tip of his cock slamming into your g-spot with every snap of his hips.

"Shit," you whimpered through your clenched teeth, your legs wrapping around his waist so he could go even deeper.

It didn't take long for your eyes to start rolling back again, the words you were trying to say coming out as babbles that Ethan couldn't understand.

"Look at you, so drunk off my cock," he teased, as you quickly nodded your head, your moans getting louder as he slid in and out of you. "Taking it so fucking well."

He grunted once he felt your nails dig into his arm, the stinging sensation turning him on even more. He went faster, and before you had the chance to process that you were about to cum, your body started to jolt, a loud cry flying out of your mouth as your pussy clenched him.

"Fuck, gonna cum," he moaned, before he pulled out.

As soon as he did, the realization that you were still wearing your shirt hit him as he covered it in his cum. You were too caught up in coming down from your own orgasm that you didn't notice, until Ethan started laughing to himself.

"What?" you asked, your breathing still labored as he shook his head and ran his hand through his curls.

"Uh...you wanna borrow a shirt before we leave?" he asked, as you glanced down to look at your shirt before you started laughing.

"Please," you said, as he leaned down to place a kiss to your lips.

He helped you get off his bed before he grabbed the clothes he wanted to wear out of the laundry basket full of stuff he hadn't folded yet, as you walked over to his dresser to search for your favorite shirt of his.

His back was turned towards you, but once he heard the drawer open, his head snapped in your direction, his heart pounding in his chest as you placed your hand over your mouth.

You saw the knife with the dried blood on it resting on top of his folded shirts, your eyes growing wide as your stomach felt queasy. You hesitantly turned your head to him, your eyes watering as he stepped closer.

"Baby," he said softly, as you took a step back. "This isn't what it looks like."

"So that's not a fucking bloody knife in your dresser?" you snapped, as he darted towards you, wincing at the loudness of your voice before his hand covered over your mouth.

"Shut the fuck up," he whispered, his eyes wide as he backed you towards the wall.

In that moment, you knew the person you were in love with was a psycho, fear coursing through your veins as his dark eyes looked into yours.

"I can't explain everything right now," he said, his face softening as his hand was still pressed against you. "But nothing's going to happen to you. You can't say anything, baby. You need to keep quiet, it's the only way I can keep you safe."

You hesitantly nodded, the tears running down your face pooling against the side of his hand. You were trying so hard to choke back your sobs as he groaned.

"I'm so fucking stupid," he said, as he took a deep breath. "If I let go of your mouth, will you be quiet?"

You nodded again, as he slowly pulled his hand away. You glanced at the floor as he stood in front of you, your chin quivering as he sighed.

"Baby, I'm sorry," he said, as he placed his hand under your chin and lifted your head to face him. You were still refusing to make eye contact. "I'm serious about you not saying anything. I'd never hurt you, but who I'm working with would. You know how long it took for me to convince them that you didn't need to die?"

You took a shaky breath as you looked at the person you thought you knew really well a few minutes ago, the realization hitting you that you don't know him at all.

"Can I trust you to not say anything?" he asked, a few more tears slipping past your lash line as you nodded. "I'll tell you everything later, okay?"

"Okay," you whispered, as he walked over to grab a shirt out of the drawer that was still open, and handed it to you.

"You need to get dressed, baby. I'm going to be late for class."

[carlsangel]

LET ME MAKE IT UP TO YOU (PART ONE)

carl grimes x fem!reader

(you and carl have an argument and he makes it up to you.)

tags: SMUT!!! p in v, RIDINGGGGG BABYYYY, unprotected sex (be safe!)

masterlist here!

read part two!

i wrote this so i could get motivated to write again, it’s the first fic i’ve written that wasn’t requested in a long ass time, so this one’s just an idea from me and a fic for myself i hope u like!!!

Carl was always telling you that you needed to be safe outside the walls. He always told you if you were to go on a run, the only people you should go with was Daryl or Glenn. So, when he told you he couldn’t go on a woods date because he’d be going out for supplies with the two of them, you wanted to go with. But he still refused.

“I don’t understand, I thought you said it was fine if Glenn and Daryl took me, you said they’re the most reliable. We were supposed to go to the woods anyway…” You reason, following him through the house as he gathered his belongings. “We can go on the date tomorrow, anyway this time’s different. We’re going to the store on Miller street, the last time the guys went, it was filled with walkers.” He makes his way out of your guys’ room and down the hall. “Well why’re you going then? I don’t want you to.”

He stops just before the stairs and he sighs, turning around to look at you intently. “It’s just how it is, okay? I don’t want to have to worry about you out there, and you definitely don’t have to worry about me.” He explains. You’re sort of annoyed at the fact he thinks he has to take care of you. He continues down the steps and you follow after. “You don’t have to worry about me, I don’t understand. You’re being quite the hypocrite.” You refute. He shakes his head and grabs his bag before heading towards the door.

“Seriously Carl, what the fuck?” He places his hand on the handle and turns to you. “I’ll see you at eight.” He opens the door and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

You stayed home the whole day, quite pissed to say the least. You babysat Judith, which didn’t bother you at all but you’d rather have gone with him. You felt worried, not to mention left out. By the time they came home, you were sitting on the floor in the living room with Judith, playing with her toys. “Here, bug, this one has jingles.” You shake the toy in front of her and she yawns, grabbing it but dropping it. You hear the front door open and you see Carl and Daryl walking through the door. AKA your signal to get Judith up to bed.

You stand up and pull Judith up as well, letting her stand on your feet as you take slow steps towards the stairs. They both acknowledge you and Carl’s the first to say something. “Hey, how was babysitting?” He asks, noticing how focused you are on keeping Judith on your feet. “It was fun. We gotta go to bed, don’t we Judith?” You reply dismissively, Daryl and Carl share a knowing look while you head up the stairs.

You get Judith changed and in her crib, you exit and closer her door quietly before turning to be met with Carl just standing there. “Oh sh-” You put your hand over your heart and he sort of giggles at you. “Jesus christ make a noise or something.” You roll your eyes and walk down the hall and he follows after. “I’m alive, see? The run was a breeze.”

He tries his best to make you realize you were wrong about not wanting him to go out. “Yeah no shit, I see that but that doesn’t make the whole situation any less frustrating.” You retort. He closes the door behind you guys and you sit on the bed, kicking your boots off your feet and he does the same. “I was left here alone, not to mention you ditched our date.” You stand up to start changing and he watches you from the bed. “I know, and I’m sorry I just- It seemed like the best way for me to get practice with knives. I’m still not the best since…my eye.” He replies quietly. You turn from the dresser to look at him.

Well you just feel bad now. “Shit I just feel sort of selfish…I’m sorry.” You sort of sympathize with him and walk over to run your hand through his hair. “Don’t worry. I get it, probably more than anyone.” He holds the sides of your thighs, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth over them as he looks up at you. “But, if you wanna make it up to me, and if you’d let me make it up to you…I can think of somethin we could do.”

Within the next couple minutes you’re both stripped of your clothes, Carl is sitting back against the pillows while you’re on his lap. He has your tit in his mouth, his eyes shut, just enjoying the feeling of your nipple against his tongue. He moans against your skin and your hand goes up to tug on his hair a bit. He pulls away from your chest to look up at you breathlessly. “Please I need to feel you.”

You smile and adjust your position on his lap, slowly sinking onto his dick. The both of you moan at the feeling, he leans his head against your chest as he feels your heat surround him. His hands go to your hips, yours go to his shoulders to steady yourself. He guides your hips back and forth, only making the pace quicker. “Oh fuck you drive me insane.” He mumbles into your chest, his eyes half lidded and his grip on your hips getting tighter.

You can feel him start to buck his hips upwards, pushing his dick farther into you. You lean on him a bit, resting your weight on your knees as you straddle him, allowing him to thrust up even more. He rests his hands on your waist and looks up at you, watching as your eyes roll back into your head at the pleasure. He slows a bit and you pull away to lean back on your hands, his cock still penetrating you while you steady yourself. This put your body on display, he could see everything.

You start to move yourself back and forth, practically fucking yourself on him. Carl’s eyes go wide at the way you grind on him, he could cum from the sight alone. And he almost did. “Fuck- m’gonna-” He said shakily. You’re breathing heavy, the feeling leaves you unable to speak and Carl leans forward to rub your clit with his thumb. That basically sends you over the edge and you cum, moaning quite loudly. The feeling of you clenching around him added on top of your moans causes Carl’s orgasm to follow shortly after.

A couple of minutes went by and you were cuddled together in bed, he’d cleaned you up and pulled your clothes back on for you. You loved aftercare with him, he was always the sweetest. The two of you soon fell asleep in the comfort of each other’s arms.

─── ⋆⋅ ꩜ ⋅⋆ ───

The next morning, you had perimeter watch so Carl woke up early to make you breakfast. Or try at least, he made you eggs and selected some fruit for you to eat before leaving. He sat and talked with you, making you laugh before leaving for work. You did a ton of different jobs at Alexandria, perimeter watch was your least favorite. You’d even faked having a bad headache one time to get out of it.

So, you stood there watching carefully when you hear a voice from the bottom of the post. It was Glenn. You peak your head over. “Can I come up?” He asks. “Yeah go for it.” You step back and continue to watch around the gates while you waited for him to climb up. Once he did, he looked at you and sort of laughed awkwardly. He was being weird but he’s always sort of like that so you didn’t pay any mind to it. “Did you need something?” Your focus is still on the scenery in front of you as you speak.

“Uhh…yeah there was sort of something I need to tell you about the run yesterday.” He was nervous and it was evident with his tone. You turn to him, your eyebrows furrowing a tad. “Okay..explain.” He nods and swallows hard. “Just- don’t get angry okay? I mean I’m not really meant to be saying anything but I feel horrible to keep it from you and-”

“Oh my god please just spit it out.” You cut him off. “Right. Yesterday Carl had a close call with a walker, it basically tackled him and was really close to just-” He stops for a moment but continues. “It almost bit his face off. Daryl saved him last second when I’d got close enough to hear their conversation…I guess they didn’t see me, they made an agreement to keep it from you. Not to tell you about it.” He explained, somewhat ashamed.

You stop to think. You felt shitty about it all, for sure. He’d gotten pissy at you about wanting to go, made you feel bad for not wanting him to go, and used the excuse of his eye. He told you it all went well. He lied to your face, then fucked you after.

a/n: part two is coming soon :)

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @evilnight07 @ilikestrawberriesandwomen

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: i played myself on this one. posted that little barzy blanket thief headcanon post a million years ago and then i had to write this! the pro shop doesn’t sell the themed comfy, which i think it should but whatever. couldn’t resist writing this one and it just got away from me. full disclosure this was written before christmas but i didn’t want to post it in the middle of posting the other christmas fics so i held it back for a little bit! enjoy!!

word count: 6.2k

tw: brief unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, protected sex

summary: mat’s a blanket thief and tries to make it up to you

In theory, the king sized mattress that you’d bought for the new house was meant to stop Mat from stealing all of your blankets in the middle of the night. What with king sized sheets and blankets and comforters to go along with the king sized mattress, the thought was that Mat would have more than enough of his own coverings without having to take yours too.

Wrong. So wrong.

Every night for the first week in the new house, Mat rolls himself into a little burrito of blankets, cocooned up in the warmth that you’re missing. He’s oblivious to it too, which is extra annoying for some reason. It’s not even like he normally sleeps all rolled up in the covers. Usually Mat’s a restless sleeper, all that energy trying to escape even when he’s asleep, and he’s starfished on the mattress or rolling from one side to the other. Only after games or travel days does he pass out like the dead, after, of course, working you into the mattress and making sure you both have at least one orgasm.

For whatever reason lately, even when he’s got an off day, he’s been sleeping like a log, moving only to pull the covers over his shoulders and rolling them around his body.

“Mat,” you hiss his name, pulling at the comforter. He doesn’t budge at all. “Mat!”

If anything, he wraps himself tighter in the blankets.

You let out a frustrated little growl and pull harder, planting your foot flat against his outer thigh, or where you assume his outer thigh is, and kick a little, trying to get some leverage. Mat grunts a little in his sleep and shifts his lower body away from you, taking the blankets with him.

You flop back against your side of the bed, exposed to the elements and freezing. Stupid fucking Mat and his “the bedroom has to be at sixty-five degrees so we get the best possible sleep” arguments. A chill runs down your spine and you scowl to yourself, yanking at the little bit of sheet you managed to keep him from taking, wrapping it around yourself and snuggling up close against his back for a little warmth.

The next morning, as usual, Mat’s awake before you and you’ve got the covers back, having subconsciously pulled them over your body when he left the bed. Groaning at the thought of having to leave the warm bed, you drag a hand over your face before slowly getting up and padding to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. Feet shoved into Ugg slippers that have seen better days and pulling a sweatshirt over your head, you make your way down to the kitchen where you find Mat making himself eggs at the stove. You lean a hip against the kitchen island, watching him for a few minutes, the way his muscles work as he’s cooking, bare back displayed just for you. His sweats hang low on his hips and you want to press your hands against his lower back.

“Staring’s rude, Squeaks,” he says on a laugh. Without turning from the stove, he gestures to the counter with the spatula in his hand, “coffee’s hot.”

“Stealing all the blankets from your poor frozen girlfriend is also rude,” you reply deadpan, reaching up for your favorite mug and pouring yourself a generous serving of coffee. You doctor it up with sugar cookie flavored creamer and wrap your hands around the ceramic to warm them up before taking a sip.

Now he turns to face you and his eyes go wide and his eyebrows lift up his forehead. “Ah, shit. I’m still doing that even with the bigger bed?”

“Mhm,” you confirm with a roll of your eyes. “I’d say we should upgrade to a California King, but you’d probably keep doing it.” An amused smirk plays on your lips and Mat grimaces.

He sets the spatula down and flips off the burner before coming over to stand in between your legs. You keep your mug held up by your chest as a barrier. “I’m sorry, babe,” he brushes the tip of his nose against yours. His hands fall to your hips, sliding up underneath the fabric of your sweatshirt. His palms are warm and rough against your skin and you shiver a little. His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts and you can’t help yourself from pushing your chest further into his hands. “You should’ve woken me up, I would’ve given you the blankets back.”

A startled laugh bursts out of your mouth and Mat looks briefly offended. The pads of his thumbs freeze on your nipples.

“What?” He asks, flicking a nipple with his fingernail. You press your thighs together. “I can share.”

“If you,” you start, stuttering a little as Mat’s fingers roll over your nipples, “think that it’s just that easy to wake you up, you’re delusional.”

Mat huffs a laugh and you yelp when he pinches down hard. The menace. He knows he’s a heavy sleeper. You reach behind you to set your coffee mug down on the counter, afraid that the hot brew is going to spill everywhere. “Aw, come on,” he teases, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, “it’s so easy to wake me up.” His hands continue their work under your sweatshirt and you feel your panties growing damp.

“Mmm?” You hum, letting your knee rub up against the outside of Mat’s thigh slowly, opening yourself up to him. “I kicked you twice and not even a peep.” Your hands come up to lock around Mat’s neck. Your fingers play in the shirt bristles of Mat’s hair and you wish, not for the first time in months, that he would let his hair grow in again.

He lets his hands slide down your sides again, one over your stomach and one around your back. “Your mistake,” he says, pulling you closer so your core is flush up against the hard ridge of his erection. You grind against him mindlessly, tension building low in your stomach, already forgetting why you were annoyed. “I don’t respond to kicking,” his hand works its way underneath your sweats and grabs a palmful of your ass. The other hand remains frustratingly warm against your lower stomach, the tips of his fingers just barely brushing against the elastic of your panties. “Gotta be nicer to me, baby.”

“Oh yeah?” You breathe, wiggling against him, scratching your nails absently against his scalp. “What do you suggest?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs, kneading your ass with one hand. “Could’ve wrapped that pretty mouth around my dick.”

Fire pools in your stomach even as you giggle. “And how would I have penetrated that cocoon of blankets you stole?” You ask tartly, raising an eyebrow. Before Mat can answer, you continue, “besides, blow jobs are a reward for good boys.”

Mat’s ears go pink, but he smirks at you. “Just like getting your pussy licked is for good girls?”

Your cheeks heat and arousal floods between your legs, a little gasp punching from your lungs. You try to press your thighs together, but Mat’s hand is lightning fast, sliding under the band of your panties and cupping you in one warm, broad palm. You squeal at the sudden contact, grinding down onto his hand. “Maaat,” you whine his name, his fingers stroking gently between your folds, teasing at your entrance. He uses his grip on your ass to drag you closer to his chest and you allow him, knees feeling weak as his fingers play with you.

Your hands drift down to his biceps, gripping them for dear life to keep you upright. “Stop teasing,” you hiss, the tip of his middle finger sliding inside of you. You clench around him, chasing his hand and your pleasure.

“So fucking wet, babe,” Mat grins, dropping his forehead to yours. His hand never stops moving, drawing you closer to the peak of your pleasure. “So good for me.”

All the blood in your body rushes to your cunt at the praise and your back is arching, pressing Mat’s fingers deeper. He holds the pad of his thumb firmly over your clit and squeezes your ass, slanting his mouth over yours to muffle the moan that escapes when he rubs against your clit. Your toes curl in your slippers and your head falls back, legs trembling with the force of your orgasm as it washes over you. Mat’s fingers guide you through the aftershocks for a few lazy moments and you drop your chin to your chest, breathing hard.

“Why was I mad at you?” You mumble, laughing breathlessly. You wiggle your hips, starting to get overstimulated and uncomfortable with Mat’s hand still down the front of your panties. He takes the hint and pulls his hand out of your pants. His fingers are wet with your arousal as they brush against your lower stomach and you shiver happily.

Casually, he sticks his middle and ring fingers in his mouth to suck them clean, releasing them with a wet pop. “‘Cause I steal blankets,” he replies, without really thinking. He realizes his mistake a beat later, hazel eyes going wide and jaw dropping open. “Aw, fuck. If I haul you up on the counter and eat you out will you forget I said that?”

“Nope!” Your giggle turns into a shriek as you try to escape Mat’s lunging hands. He digs his fingers into your sides, tickling you mercilessly. “Nooo! Mat! Stop! No tickling-“

“Gonna make you forget about the blankets one way or another,” Mat laughs, holding your squirming body tightly. Your ass presses against his crotch and he hisses, biting gently on your shoulder.

“Never! If I forget, you’ll just steal them again,” your words are stuttered from laughter and you fight Mat’s hands. He’s stronger and manages to wrestle you to the kitchen floor, pinning your wrists above your head, straddling your lap, knees on either side of your hips. His sweats ride low and the chain around his neck sways with the momentum. His cock bobs behind his sweats and you swallow harshly. Mat grins down at you, flattening his body to yours, his cock pressing insistently against your stomach. He kisses the edge of your jaw as you wiggle under him.

“You look pretty warm to me,” Mat teases, rolling his hips against yours. The hard heat of his erection makes your thighs tremble.

You wrinkle your nose at him, fully aware that he has the upper hand in your positioning. “You’re going to be late to practice,” you say, even as your hips lift to his subconsciously.

“Always plenty of time to fuck my girl silly,” he says lightly, bumping his cock against your cunt again. “As long as she forgives me for being a blanket thief.”

“Mmm,” you whine, heat prickling up your spine, “you’re forgiven. Just…I need you.”

Mat’s teeth scrape at your jaw and one hand lets go of your wrists, moving between your bodies and tugging your sweats and panties down in one swift move. The cold kitchen tile against your bare ass has you yelping and instinctively bucking your hips off the ground, up into Mat’s hips. He soothes a hand over your inner thigh before pulling his sweats down enough to free his cock. You crane your neck to look down at him, grinning when you see the tip of him, groaning when he bumps it against your clit. Shocks of pleasure ripple through your body and you whine again, heels kicking against the floor, dripping for him.

“Gonna give you everything, ‘kay?” Mat mumbles, gripping the base of his cock and guiding it to your entrance, letting the tip slip inside of you. His head falls forward on a groan and you grind down on him, trying to get more.

“Just not - can’t come inside,” you babble, bucking your hips up into his. “Not without a condom.”

“I’ll pull out,” he promises and you know he means it. You’re on birth control and neither of you is ready for kids. “Gotta fuck you good. Make you come on my cock and gonna finish in your mouth.”

His words are punctuated with harsh thrusts that have your back sliding against the floor. Your free hand roams Mat’s body, scratching against his chest and arm, fingers tangling briefly in the chain around his neck. You egg him on, reaching down to dig your nails into his hips. “C’mon, Mat. Harder, please!” You beg, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Fuck. Fuck, so good. You’re so perfect, baby,” Mat grunts, leaning down to kiss you and changing the angle so he hits harder and deeper inside of you. “Gonna fuck you everywhere in this house. Every wall, every floor.”

Your body tenses up with pleasure, gasps and moans leaving your lips along with Mat’s name. Your orgasm builds heavy and fast in your stomach, clit throbbing from the drag of Mat’s pelvis against the swollen, sensitive nub. “Gonna - Mat, please!” You cut off in a wail when his free hand finds your clit and pinches it, sending you over the edge of pleasure, sparks dancing in your vision, arousal leaking from your cunt down the curve of your ass. Your hand slaps against the floor, fingers scrabbling for purchase as he continues fucking into you, the hard, hot drag of his bare cock making you stupid.

Mat’s hips continue pistoning into yours and you’re faintly aware of the slapping of skin against skin underneath his babbling. “Jesus, so fucking pretty when you come. Love that face, love that I made you make that face,” the words fall from his mouth without him even focusing on them, too busy working his cock in and out of you.

You watch his shoulders tense up, feel his thrusts falter a little and you know he’s close. “Mat, not - no baby,” you remind him, pushing at his shoulder, hand slipping down to his chest, stomach, hip.

“Fuck,” he groans, pumping into you once more before pulling out completely, the sudden loss of him inside of you leaving you feeling too empty. You slide your own hand from his hip and let your fingers skate over your clit lazily, not really working yourself towards another orgasm, but just easing the empty feeling. Mat’s hand grips the base of his cock, jacking himself once, twice, three times before his entire body goes taut and he comes all over your sweatshirt covered chest, too far gone to even give you a chance to try and get your mouth on him. “Sorry, baby, sorry. I’ll buy you a new one. I couldn’t—“ he mutters around the groans and slick sounds of his palm sliding over his cock.

When he’s done, the hand holding yours above your head loosens and Mat flops down onto his back next to you. His cock is softening against his thigh and you have a literal puddle of his cum warming your skin through the material of your sweatshirt. Your ass is cold against the tile, wet where your arousal had dripped down the curve. You roll your neck and look at Mat, watching his chest heave while he catches his breath. His cheeks are pink from exertion and his limbs are completely limp.

“We’re disgusting,” you comment on a laugh, afraid to move.

“Why didn’t you say the tile was so cold on your ass?” Mat replies, lifting his hips so he can pull his sweats back up. You watch with a little pout as his cock disappears under the sweats, a little wet spot forming and turning the fabric a darker grey.

“I was a little busy getting railed on the kitchen floor,” you deadpan. “That I’m going to have to clean with, like, bleach now.”

Mat rolls onto his side, props his head up on his elbow, and gives you such a mischievous, shit-eating grin that you kick out your foot to make contact with his shin. “What’s with that look?” You comment, wiggling your sweats back up over your lower body. He whines a little.

“Just thinking about how hard up we were that I had to fuck you on the floor,” he laughs, his fingers coming over to tug on a piece of your hair.

“If anyone hears about this,” you warn, half-joking, half-serious, “I swear to God that I will never give you a blowjob again.”

A laugh startles out of his chest and Mat promises he won’t say anything, defends himself that he doesn’t usually talk about your sex life with the guys anyway.

“That includes Beau,” you warn him, carefully wiggling into a sitting position, wincing when Mat’s cum slides down your chest and pools in the fabric of gathered on your lap. “This is so gross, Mat.”

“He’s my best friend!” Mat yelps. “I tell him everything.” You whip your head in his direction, eyes wide and mouth dropped open a bit. There is no way Beau knows everything about sex life. Mat backtracks, his hands up in surrender, “not everything. I didn’t mean everything. He knows a lot, but not about the time we almost killed each other in the shower or the time I almost —“

You clap a hand over his mouth, muffling his ramble. “Enough. Oh my god. You seriously need to get a filter,” you can’t help the little disbelieving laugh that works its way out of your mouth. Shaking your head, you mutter to yourself, “to think this all started because you’re a fucking blanket thief.”

Mat opens his mouth under your hand to defend himself and you can physically see him gearing up for a long ramble, so you shake your head. “No, nope. Go get yourself cleaned up for practice. I need to get myself in a completely different headspace for the day,” you laugh. “Fucked on the kitchen floor was not how I pictured my week starting.”

Mat licks your palm so you’ll pull it away from his face. You grimace at him and wipe your hand on his bare chest, the faint smattering of dark hair over his chest tickling your skin. “Don’t say that’s gross, Squeaks,” he teases, leaning in to kiss you, “I’ve had my tongue all over that body.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “it’s the principle of the licking. Now leave me, I have to figure out how to get this sweatshirt off without making more of a mess and it’s not going to be cute.”

He laughs at you and gets to his feet, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. “Whatever you want, babe. I’ll be back down in a few to finish making breakfast.”

You’d almost forgotten that Mat had been cooking when you came downstairs. Thank God he’d turned off the stove. As he heads back upstairs, you drop back onto your back, arms spread out to your sides. What a fucking morning.

——-

Mat’s out of town for a few days, a mini road trip that has him gone from your bed for nearly a week, and so you get the bed and blankets all to yourself. You’ve more or less forgotten about Mat’s thieving habits when you have the thick comforters wrapped securely around your body.

So when Mat comes home on a Saturday afternoon, lugging a giant shopping bag along with his suitcase and duffel bag, you’re a little curious and a lot confused.

“Plane snacks?” You tease after accepting a hello kiss from him.

“Those didn’t even make it out of the Tampa airport,” he grins, setting the bag on the couch. “This is even better.”

You lean over the back of the couch and watch as Mat pulls a blue and orange something out of the bag. He shakes it out and you recognize it as the extra long Islanders-logo patterned, hooded Comfy that’s being sold in the pro shop at the Northwell rink. Mat holds it out in front of him with a little “ta-dah!” and a big, cheesy grin on his face.

“What is that?” You ask rhetorically, hand reaching out of its own accord to touch the fleecy fabric. It’s soft, you’ll give him that.

“It’s one of those Comfy things, for you to wear when I steal blankets,” he laughs. “I haven’t forgotten what happened last week.”

Instinctively, your gaze cuts to the spot on the kitchen floor that you’d scrubbed three times with bleach. Mat’s eyes follow yours and his grin turns into a feral little smirk. “Haven’t forgotten that either,” he continues. “But try it on.”

“This is ridiculous,” you say, grabbing for the hooded blanket. Pulling it over your jeans and t-shift, your voice is muffled, “you could always just stop making a cocoon out of the blankets - oh!”

It’s extremely soft, the Comfy. The hood is oversized enough that the hem of it flops over your eyes, obscuring your view of Mat, and keeping your head nice and warm. The sleeves hang a few inches past your hands and the bottom of it comes to your mid-shin. It’s like wearing a space heater. You wrap your arms around yourself and sway a little, giggling.

“I actually love this?” You can’t believe it. There’s so much room and you know that if you were sitting on the couch you could tuck your legs up under the fabric and still have plenty of space. “Okay, we still have to train you not to steal blankets, but this is a nice temporary solution.”

Mat’s laugh is delighted and you flip back the hood to look at him. “You’re adorable in that,” he says, coming around the back of the couch to get into your personal space. “Gonna share with me?”

“Absolutely fucking not,” you giggle, dancing away from him, the fleece swishing around your legs. “This is my reward!”

“For what?” Mat cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Putting up with you,” you retort, hands on your hips, knowing you look insane in your new getup.

Mat grabs for the fabric, snagging it between two long fingers and pulling you into him. “Babe,” he kisses your cheek, “you give just as good as you get.”

You cuddle up against his chest, head tucked under his chin and arms wrapped around his waist. “Missed you,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Missed you too,” his arms tighten around your back. “How about we do something fun tonight? I’ll take you out for dinner too.”

——-

The Comfy works wonders even though Mat continues to steal the blankets. More often than not, you’re wearing the giant hoodie to bed, tucking your legs up underneath and curling up in a little ball.

Mat loves the stupid thing too - if you’re wearing it while laying on the couch, he’ll crawl up underneath it too, laying on top of you, chest to chest, like a giant weighted blanket. The head hole isn’t quite big enough for both of you, so usually the top of Mat’s head is bumping up against your chin while he rests his cheek against your chest, groping and mouthing at your breasts.

“It’s hot under here,” he complains, voice muffled. He’s kneading one of your breasts in his giant hand, lazily grinding his half-hard cock against your thigh.

“The Comfy is only meant for one person,” you sigh. You’re getting sweaty and worked up from Mat’s body heat. “It’s a giant fleece blanket, what did you expect?”

“Dunno,” Mat says against your shirt, licking your nipple through the thin cotton. You arch your back, pressing your breast into his mouth. “Wasn’t really thinking.”

He bites the underside of your breast and you wince, even as a spark of pleasure fires low in your stomach. You’re surprised that you don’t have a permanent mark there - Mat’s a biter.

“Story of your life, Mathew,” you murmur affectionately. “How about I take the portable sauna off and you fuck me into the couch properly?”

Still under the Comfy, Mat tries to sit up, gets tangled in the fabric and before you know it, you’re both falling off the couch and landing on the floor in a pile. Your knee drives into Mat’s thigh, your elbow in his stomach and he grunts with pain. Your head takes a glancing hit to the edge of the coffee table and you see stars briefly. “Fuck,” you drag the curse out for a few extra seconds. Mat’s wiggling underneath you, trying to get out from the confines of the fabric.

“Are you okay?” You ask, trying to roll off of him and help pull the fabric away from his body. Mat’s face is bright red, but he looks okay.

“No one can ever know about that,” he says seriously.

You laugh and he breaks, cracking up too. “How about we never discuss our sex life outside of the relationship cone of silence?” You hold out your hand for him to shake.

“Deal,” he shakes your hand once, snorting a laugh. He leans up into a sitting position. “Can I still fuck you into the couch?”

“I think I’d be kind of insulted if you didn’t,” you pull the Comfy over your head and toss it off to the side before crawling into Mat’s lap so you can wind your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply. Mat’s hands roam up your back, under your shirt, pulling you closer to him. You rock your hips, grinding down over his cock and Mat moans into your mouth. He braces one arm around your lower back and gets up on his knees to lift you onto the couch, pressing you back into the cushions. He settles into the cradle of your hips, your thighs coming up to wrap around his waist, ankles crossing at his lower back.

He grinds his cock against your cunt and you whine into his mouth, breaking the kiss to say, “want it hard and fast, Mat. Don’t be sweet, just fuck me hard, okay?”

Mat’s pupils are blow so wide you can’t see any of his hazel irises. He nods like a bobble head, “yeah, fuck yeah, baby. Whatever you need.”

He makes quick work of your pants, leaning back on his knees to get both of you bare from the waist down. His jaw goes slack when he sees just how wet you are for him, his hands holding your thighs open so he can just stare for a bit. “Jesus,” he mutters and your cheeks warm. You kick at the back of his thigh, startling Mat.

“If you don’t get a condom on in the next thirty seconds,” you say, fighting past the blush that’s heating your entire body, “I can’t guarantee that I won’t just take matters into my own hands.”

Mat laughs hoarsely and springs into action, reaching for one of the little side drawers on the coffee table. A strip of condoms is hidden away there just for times like these. Your hands are already sliding down your stomach to tease at your throbbing clit. Mat catches sight of you and smacks your hands away, the condoms in his other hand. “Oh no way,” he growls. “I still have twenty seconds.”

You laugh and start a little countdown, making Mat’s fingers fumble on the foil wrappings. He scowls at you and shifts so one knee is pressed firmly against your cunt. You break off into a surprised moan, head thrown back against the couch cushion, “Mat!”

He shifts his knee, moving it slightly so your throbbing clit catches against his leg hair and you whine, grinding down harder on him. “You’re not gonna touch yourself,” he warns, finally getting the condom open and rolled down his straining erection, “are you, baby?”

“No, no,” the words stutter out of your chest as Mat keeps moving his knee against you. Your hands fly out to clutch the couch cushions and Mat grins down at you.

“This pussy’s mine,” he says, planting one foot on the floor and keeping one knee bent on the couch so he can stabilize himself. You whine at the loss of contact from your cunt, but the noise gets choked off in the next second when Mat grabs your hips and thrusts into you in one swift punch of his hips. His hips smack against yours as he bottoms out and you cry his name in a babble of breathless chants.

“Told you,” he grunts, pumping into you and using his grip on your hips to push and pull you closer, your ass hitting high up on his thighs. “Mine, fucking mine.”

Your legs lock around his hips, thighs trembling, heels pushing against the top of his ass. “Oh - god, more! Mat!” Your fingertips turn white from how hard you’re grabbing at the couch cushions, your body sliding up with the force of Mat’s thrusts. Your breath hiccups out of your lungs, fire burning in your veins. Every hit of his cock against your g-spot has you screaming his name.

“Fucking -“ Mat grunts, jaw slack as he watches where his cock splits you open, disappearing into your soaked cunt. “Gorgeous. Fucking all for me, baby.”

You need more, just a little more to push you over the edge. Mat usually pays attention to your clit, helping you finish, but he’s pounding into you hard and fast, just like you asked, so you reach a shaking hand down and circle your fingertips around your clit, arching your back with the added stimulation. Mat growls over you and bats your hand away, not stopping his pace.

“Told you no touching,” he huffs, pulling your hips flush against his and holding you there, his cock throbbing inside of your cunt. “Ask for it, baby.”

Tears slip out of the corners of your eyes and trail down your temples. You whine, “wanna touch my clit, Mat. Need it.”

Instead of touching you, Mat’s hands tighten on your hips and circle them slowly over his cock, your clit pressed tightly against the dark hair at his base, making you moan, eyes squeezed shut hard enough for you to see stars.

“Come on, baby,” Mat mumbles, watching you fall apart. “Come for me, gonna make you cum. Right here on my cock.” He pulls his hips back, all but the tip of him leaving your body and you babble at him, trying to grab at his wrists to pull him back in. “Who’s gonna make you cum?” He asks, snapping his hips back against yours, harsh and fast.

“You!” You wail, dragging out the word for several seconds, barely breathing as Mat bullies the orgasm from your body, holding your hips to his as you clench around him, shaking in his grip. Pleasure loosens all of your limbs as you gush around Mat, crying his name.

He strokes his thumbs over your hipbones and pumps into you a handful more times, but you’re barely aware of him filling the condom with a shout of your name, your head fuzzy with post-orgasm haze. Mat breathes heavily over you, slumping slightly to the side as he finishes, loosening his grip on you. You blink sleepily up at him, a lazy, satisfied smile forming on your lips. “What?” He asks, voice raspy and smoky.

“Just really like your face,” your smile turns a little wicked, “‘specially when you’re cumming.” You wrangle your features into a caricature of his orgasm face. “Looks like this.”

Mat pinches your hip and pulls out of you, wincing when he takes the condom off and ties off the end. “Yeah? Yours looks like this,” he throws his head back dramatically, squeezes his eyes shut, and drops his mouth open, letting his tongue flop out like he’s a corpse on a terrible soap opera.

You bark a laugh, kicking at him. “I do not!”

“Do too,” Mat grins, leaning down to cup your jaw and kiss you with tongue and teeth. “Good thing I think you’re the fucking hottest woman on the planet.” He climbs off the couch to toss the condom and you watch his ass as he walks away. It should literally be a crime to have an ass that tight. Your clit gives a pathetic little throb as you watch him, used and abused but so ready to go another round. You slip a hand between your legs, rolling the swollen nub between your fingers gently.

“Can we implement like naked weekends around here?” You ask, popping your head over the back of the couch. Mat’s laughter echoes through the kitchen.

“You know I’m never gonna say no to that,” he replies, and then in the next second, his t-shirt is flying through the air and landing on your head. “In fact, let’s start now.”

——-

You get in late from girls’ night - it’s close to one in the morning - and you know Mat’s asleep. He’d texted you around midnight, a typo-filled message that essentially said he was going to bed, but if you wanted to wake him with a blow job he wouldn’t be opposed to it. You’d snorted a laugh at the message, hiding your screen from the other girls while you typed back a definitive no. He’d replied with a pouting selfie that you ignored. You figure he’d gone to bed shortly after that since the boys have a game later in the day.

The house is dark when you get home, just a few of the under cabinet lights on in the kitchen so you don’t trip on anything.

You make your way slowly up to your bedroom, unsteady on your feet, discarding your shoes and clothes as you go. All you want to do is curl up in bed and pass out.

There’s a lump of blankets on one side of the bed that tells you Mat is passed out under there. Sure enough, when you get closer, you can see one of his bare feet poking out from the bottom of the covers. You smile faintly to yourself, getting rid of the last of your clothes and rummaging around in a drawer for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. The alcohol has your body feeling overly warm so you don’t bother with retrieving your Comfy from the closet. You’ll manage with whatever blankets you can wrestle away from Mat.

The bed is nice and warm from Mat’s body heat and you settle happily on your side of the bed, cricketing your feet a little to really warm things up. Mat hasn’t wrapped himself all up yet, so you scoot closer to him, planning on pressing your chest against his back and spooning him, but instead of feeling bare skin or the cotton of a t-shirt, your fingers are met with a familiar fleecy material.

“What the fuck?” you forget to whisper and your voice is loud and echoes around the room. You squint and pull back the blankets that are partially covering Mat’s head.

The royal blue and orange of the Islanders’ logo comes into view and your jaw drops when it finally clicks that Mat’s wearing your Comfy to bed. The hood is secured over his head and his hands are tucked into the sleeves.

“Oh my god!” You shove at Mat’s shoulder and he startles.

“Hnghh?” He grunts, rolling onto his back, yawning.

“You took my Comfy!” You jab at his arm and Mat’s eyes crack open.

A faint, sleepy smile curves his lips. “Hey, babe,” he mumbles, reaching a hand out for you. “Have fun with the girls?” He stretches, blankets shifting around.

“Don’t ’hey, babe’ me!” You grumble, pulling at the blankets. “You literally gave me that because you take my blankets. Now you take my Comfy?”

Mat yawns again, jaw cracking. He doesn’t look apologetic at all. “It’s warm,” he whines, grabbing your hand to pull you closer. “And it smells like you.”

You go to him despite yourself, scooting over and curling up against his side, tucking your shoulder under his armpit. Your legs brush against his and you frown. “Are you naked in my Comfy, Mathew?” You yelp, pulling at the fleece fabric. “You cannot be serious!”

“I have boxers on!” He laughs in protest, swatting your hands away from him. “I’m not gross.”

“Yes, you are,” you grumble, growing sleepy again. “I want a new one now that you’ve taken this one.”

He slings his legs over yours, arms holding you close as he kisses your forehead. “I can share, Squeaks. I’m a generous boyfriend,” he laughs against your hair. You press closer to his warmth, burying your face in his chest.

“You failed sharing in kindergarten, Mat,” you tease quietly. He slaps your ass gently and you giggle, curling up closer to him.

“So mean to me,” you can hear the pout in his voice. “Definitely not sharing now. Gonna buy my own Comfy.”

——

When Mat comes home from practice three days later, he’s toting another giant bag that he hadn’t left the house with.

You eye it suspiciously and he’s laughing like a lunatic as he pulls out another Comfy, declaring, “we match, Squeaks.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh. You didn’t think he was actually serious about getting his own.

Mat pulls the fabric over his head and does a little twirl for you, holding his arms out. “How do I look?” He asks, striking a dramatic pose, pushing his lips out in an exaggerated duck face.

“Like the hottest oversized fleece hoodie model in the world,” you reply, reaching out to grab the fabric and pull him in for a kiss.

[cutielando]

Hey I absolutely love your writing it’s amazing!!!!!

I really loved your lando fix where he loved to see you train and workout in the gym I was wondering if you would do it for Charles leclerc pleaseee if not that’s totally fine ily and your fics

gym rats | c.l.

warnings!!: implied active and gym rat reader, a lot of working out in a way

my masterlist

Charles had always been athletic, ever since he could remember. He had to, building up the neck muscle and tolerance needed to be able to sustain the force he felt every time he would get into the car, and over the years he had come to love working out.

Even though his day-to-day routine consisted of working out constantly, he would never ask his partner to exercise as actively or hardcore as he did.

He didn’t believe he should have a say in how someone else lived their life.

But ever since he met you and discovered your love for a healthy lifestyle and the passion that you held for exercising, he honestly felt like he had hit the jackpot. 

He loved sharing his love and passion for working out with you, aligning his workout times with yours just so you could be with him during every single one. It had become a habit of yours, your own little ritual giving you even more time to bond.

However, running with you was, by far, his favorite way to exercise. Getting to see so many beautiful views all around Monaco or Italy, depending where you were at the moment, being able to bask in the serenity of getting to share those beautiful moments with you.

Such an example was your current outing in the beautiful Monte Carlo, hiking through the mountains with Charles and Andrea. 

However, Charles had been slacking more than usual, always being steps behind you and in no hurry whatsoever.

“Charles, please stop staring at Y/N’s ass, we’re never going to make it back home in time if you keep this up” Andrea said once he had caught the driver falling behind you just to stare up at your behind.

You turned around and caught your boyfriend ogling your behind with no shame, staring up at you with wide eyes, like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“Charles! We talked about this” you said in a hushed tone, swatting him on the arm.

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about” he shrugged his shoulders and suddenly picked up the pace, walking in front of both you and Andrea all of a sudden.

You and his trainer shared a look, laughing before you followed him up the trail.

It took you a while to reach the intended target of the day, having to make multiple stops because Charles just couldn’t help staring at you, but you had made it in the end.

When you guys returned home and parted ways with Andrea, Charles was ready to take a shower and get into bed to cuddle you, but he wasn’t expecting you to have totally different plans.

“What do you mean by working out? Mon coeur, we just hiked the entire day, all we need to do right now is shower and cuddle” he argued, following you around as you prepared your bag to go downstairs in the gym for a quick session.

Working out in the evenings always helped you unload from the day, get in touch with yourself after a long day and just relax altogether. And even though Charles was right, you couldn’t ignore the feeling of longing when you thought about skipping a workout session.

“Baby, you know how important evening workouts are for me. I can’t sleep if I don’t work out at least a little bit” you argued back, chuckling at the sound of his stomps and huffs as he followed you to the front door. 

“Aren’t you tired, though? We’ve been outside all day, it hasn’t exactly been a chill activity” he said, still hoping to convince you to just get in the shower with him.

“Not really, no. If anything, I have way more energy and adrenaline to burn off right now” you said, putting on your shoes.

Charles sighed, realizing he didn’t stand a chance in convincing you to stay home. Instead of going about his business by himself, he picked up his shoes and put them on, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“What are you doing?” you asked, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“I’m joining you. I don’t want to shower without you, so I’m going to come and watch you do your thing because I’m way too tired to do anything” he explained, opening the door for you and locking it on your way out.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you secretly loved it whenever he came with you to the gym. Even if he didn’t do anything, you liked just having him there with you, cheering you on so to speak.

When you got to the gym, you were feeling a little relieved that there was nobody left at that hour. You preferred when it was just the two of you, finally being able to take a break from your busy life and just bask in the feeling of sharing the same love for something.

“I’m just gonna run on the treadmill a little so I can burn some energy and then we can go” you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he took your bag from you and sat down on a bench nearest to you.

He settled for playing around on his phone for a while, sneaking glances at you every now and then. He even snapped a picture of you which he proceeded to post on his story, boasting about how hot his girlfriend was.

And as he sat there, your eyes finding his every now and then, he realized just how lucky he was to have you by his side.

He won in life.

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[mikodrawnnarratives]

Have some art + fic rn cuz i had this idea plaguing me for a whlie in my first playthrough of the game and i needed to have it realized.

I don't want to edit my writing just yet so i'll do that later, but for now have some mentally unstable Siffrin 👍

I'll come up with a title ltr, prob when i edit this and post to ao3 (so if this gets reblogs just check out the og post for latest ver.)

For now the warnings you should know of are just character death, lots of Siff hating himself, and i think suicide ideation? I wrote this a few hours ago n still don't want to go back just yet but basically its nothing that doesn't already exist in the game

Fic starts under the cut! Roughly 2000 words

(edit: i forgor some colors don't exist/can't be seen 🤡, fixed now!)

Siffrin can’t seem to fall asleep at all anymore. The night right before the loops he can only pretend to get some rest before facing the king. He isn’t quite sure what the reason is. Being stuck in one place for too long? Useless? His urges to reach out for Isa’s touch that keep him awake at night, yearning for connection that is immediately are followed by disgust in himself?  The pure exhaustion at the thought of repeating the next day again? None seem to be the answer. Maybe its a combination.

He only knows that he’s exhausted. Exhausted, yet unable to rest. Even if he were able, would he want to risk what ever dream or nightmare his head might concoct? A blend of memories and deaths to remind him that he can’t escape?

Not being able to sleep makes them worse at the loops too unfortunately. They got along fine for the first few loops after his first sleepless night, though the mistakes ramped up. They cursed their body, cursed themself for being so weak. Simple and stupid mistakes getting them killed via boulder when they forgot and slip of the hand resulting in the weakest of Sadnesses offing him.

Loop of course taunted about his failures, like they always do. He couldn’t fully blame them, knowing deep down he deserved it. There was a pull he sometimes had though, to rest with them, even for just a little bit. He’s hung out with them before, when it gets overwhelming, never for very long. Despite that, to actually sleep with them is a different story. Different vulnerability that, he wasn’t comfortable with. Too weak, he didn’t need another thing for Loop to tease him about. No matter how tempting it would be to sit in the tree and doze off. He wouldn’t doubt that, if he could rest at this point, he would doze off until the next loop.

He can’t have that. He can’t let his family die again.

The next loop began, the stage set, and Siff opened his eye, despite every ache in their body telling them not too. They can’t listen to their body right now though. They need to travel the entire house in the next few loops for anything he might have missed before. One more sweep. 

He carries out his lines, plays the role he’s meant, rehearsing the other actor’s lines in his head before they speak up. Familiar steps, expressions, directions. When they get to Isabeau, they slip up again, Isa’s concern blooms. But they’ve seen this before. It’ll be fine. Their gut twists at forcing Isa to be concerned, but theres a warmth in it too. That Isa cares. Cares about them. It’s strange, when Odile gets close to the truth, stars when she FINDS OUT the truth, there isn’t any warmth. Just, fear. But knowing Isa won’t find out, just cares and makes them promise to talk about it at a time they know won’t come, it’s a guilty pleasure. At least, for now. Before it becomes meshed with all the other lines Siffrin has come to expect from The Fighter.

While navigation the House like normal, they slip up occasionally, interacting with objects that spark Odile’s concern. They don’t bother reversing the mistakes, he hasn’t slipped up that much. There’s no way she could know. Siff crumbled on the first floor at the counter they jabbed themself into again. Unable to see it and always stupidly forgetting to be cautious there. Stupid. 

And they kept making mistakes. Their exhaustion pulling at their body, their nerves eating them alive. There’s no warmth with new lines of concern from their actors. Just spikes of panic followed by their attempts to reassure them. To continue on.

By the final snack stop before the King, their actor’s change the script again. Siffrin tensed, their hand tracing the handle of their dagger in case of emergency. Odile… odile doesn’t call out suspicious connections to time craft this time. Everyone just.. Just asks him to nap.

The third floor they had fumbled the most, their quick grabs at the keys became more clumsy against his will. His hands can’t stop shaking. The aches won’t cease their whining in his body. Change, of course they noticed, they aren’t blind. The script is similar, repeating the words that simultaneously warm his body and send nausea through it. They’re a family. They care.

Absently, Siffrin notes Mira’s asking him if he’ll accept a comb, again. At least that’s familiar. At least one of them new the script to stick to. And, he really wouldn’t mind it again. The loops reset his hair back to the tangled and knotted mess it was when he startled back to awareness in Dormont. Everytime. Sometimes they briefly wondered if Mirabelle would comb their hair out back in town too. They would never ask though.

Their family quietly chated as Mirabelle combed through his hair. Gently, dare they think lovingly. Careful not to hurt him. Like he’s fragile and weak. Pathetic. They are pathetic aren’t they. For wanting this. Selfish for forcing them. Their hands continued to tremble, as much as Siff tried to suppress it.

The Fighter changes the script first. First to notice. Notice a slip up. They tense, not for any particular reason just, they don’t know this script. The Fighter’s face is concerned but softens. Isa. Isa asked hesitantly it he could see their hands. Siff let him, letting their pathetic shaking hands be engulfed in Isa’s large ones. He hesitantly rubs their knuckles, Mira continues to brush the tangles out of their hair. Siff’s eyelid got heavier, their body screaming to just let go, just relax. They haven’t reached the king yet, the head housemaid, they can’t yet. 

When they heard Odile close her book, another off script action, they jolted up and looked her way. Odile was about to speak up, but hesitated at their startled form. Her concerned and piercing expression remained.

“Siffrin, did you get any rest at all last night?”

They stop and meekly speak up, “I slept..”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Siffrin grimaced, tensing up. “I got.. Some rest. Why do you ask?”

“The fumbling around and absent performance don’t suggest you did.”

She had them there. Their fingers twitch as they internally remind themselves their dagger is still on their person. Even if their hands are occupied with being held by Isa’s. They take a breath.

The other actors contribute, sharing their nerves about facing the King. Needing to be ready before confronting the Threat, that could be their final standing place. No. No they won’t fail. They won’t die here. He might, but he won’t let his family.

Odile is actually the first to suggest Siffrin rest before they face the King. They can’t have any weak links before such a moment. Weak members. Weak. They were clumsy this loop. Their other family members share in the sentiment. They probably think he’s weak too. Their concerned smiles are hard to say no to though. The aches and exhaustion overwhelming his body probably wouldn’t let him refuse such an opportunity either. Surely. Surely they went through the first couple floors quick enough that another fifteen minutes before the king wouldn’t be too long. Right?

It’s a thought that didn’t seem to cross his family member’s faces when he gave into their requests and laid down. Mira scooted over, getting started on the next clump of tangled hair. Isa offered his lap as a pillow, and Siffrin’s slow mind just. Accepts the request. Not noting the dark shade flooding The Fighter’s face as they dragged their body to his lap, their head and partial upper body relaxing immediately. They rest their head on their blind side, one hand interlaced with The Fighter’s, behind them Mira finishing off the last of their tangles. The concern from their family’s faces hasn’t completely disappeared, but it’s eased. And that is enough to release the remaining tension in his body. It’s enough. 

Their family makes a few jokes that their brain muffles. Some laughing. Bonnie’s working on their snacks in the corner, still. They’ll be ready when they wake up. Their legs adjusted and placed in someone else’s lap, they think. Whoever it was, rubs circles into their calf. His eyelid grows heavier, their breathes come easy. Deep breaths. Someone rubs their back. 

It’s nice. Really.. really nice. One could easily forget they were even about to face the King at all. Face the end. They close their eyelid. It’s warm. One breath in. And out. Just.. just a quick nap. Where they are loved. They.. they are loved right? This is what this means… at least right now…

Yeah. They hope this is right.

Sleep engulfs them for the first time in several loops and their breaths slow.

The chatting continues around him, not lacking some glances exchanged between the adults in the room. But mostly, just relief fills the air. Mira stayed by Siffrin’s side, threading her fingers through his now completely combed out hair. The flush in Isabeau’s cheeks still hadn’t fully left, every movement reminding him of his crush resting so peacefully in his lap. Like a sleeping cat that once it has claimed you as it’s cushion, you are bound by the universe to not move for any reason. Odile didn’t pass up the opportunity to tease him, met with Isa’s shushing and hushed whisper “what if he wakes up and hears you!!”

Siff had done a lot today, and everyone would have assumed he was completely calm about fighting the king if not for his uncharacteristic clumsiness. Mirabelle supposed it made sense though. A night of rough sleep right before facing the most dangerous threat facing the country? That would make anyone mess up.

After another twenty minutes, Bonnie comes over with the freshly prepared snacks. Made extra special since they were more ahead of schedule than expected. Last hurrah before the king, everyone needed to be at their best.

Mirabelle smiles, heading over to were Bonnie had announced the snacks. Isa attempts to move but flounders at the idea of moving Siff. Mirabelle giggles at his flushing face as Odile moves their legs out of their lap. Well, time to end their nap she supposes. Their sleepy family member probably won’t be too thrilled about waking up but it is snack time.

Mirabelle collects her choice of snack and crouches over to Siff, moving their hat from where it had obscured their resting expression. Isa looked both upset to have the time his crush sleeps on their lap come to an end, and relieved. He lets out a chuckle as Mira gently shakes their shoulder.

“Time to wake up, Siffrin! Bonnie has snacks for everyone.” Mira moves a few hairs out of their face. “Siffrin?”

Isabeau adjusts, and joins in. “Siff? Sorry to wake you bud but..” He pauses, seeing Mirabelle’s face shift. Odile’s gaze sharpens as Mirabelle’s leans over them, placing her ear to their chest.

“They- th-they aren’t” Mira cries out. “They aren’t breathing! No no no-” 

Isabeau moves Siffrin off his lap with shaking hands. Odile rushes over to their side, checking their wrist and neck for a pulse. Bonnie’s face crumbles in the corner, alarm replacing the happy air.

Isabeau shakes Siffrin’s still body, Mirabelle readies a heal craft as Odile begins to try resuscitating them.

but 

the 

world

goes

blank

Siffrin first feels the gentle breeze around them. The grass moving in tune, sometimes brushing up against the small areas their clothes don’t cover. They hear Mirabelle in the distance and when they open their eyes, she’s right above them, apologetic for waking them. Siffrin blinks. It’s been a while since Mira’s been the one to wake them up. 

“Good morning! Well, more like good afternoon, I gue- wow. Are you okay?”

That’s new. Why would her lines-

“You’re crying.. Is something wrong, Siffrin?”

He blinks and brings a hand to his face. Sure enough, his cheek is stained with tears. He doesn’t remember crying, he just woke up too. From..

“Must’ve happened in my sleep” He says absently.

Mira frowns, “Oh no! What did you dream about…?”

Siffrin shrugs and repeats lines he remembers that will reassure her the quickest. She sighs and returns back to town. They’ll be waiting for him.

He takes a moment to think about what happened in the last loop. He.. doesn’t remember dying. Must have been when he went to sleep. That. That probably should worry him, that falling asleep could end a loop, but he doesn’t feel any regret about it. Actually, it’d be nice if all his loops ended like that. Just, dying with his loved ones around. It would take too long though, even if it could happen again. This loop needs to be faster. Last loop they didn’t even reach the king, and they have questions. 

He grumbles as he sits up, a part of him yearning to go back to that warmth. Oh if only the universe could have let it be permanent. A permanent death that didn’t even hurt. That’s wishful thinking though, the universe isn’t so kind. And they have work to do, his family- actors. They need what he knows. He can’t rest forever yet.

The show must go on.

[lotus-n-l0ve]

𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐀 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐞𝐞

— Peter Parker x Stark!Female Reader

☯ SYNOPSIS : When Peter's girlfriend pays him a little visit in Midtown High School and meets his long time bully, Flash Thompson.

☯ WARNINGS : Au, stark!reader, Peter is barely present in the fic, cursing.

☯ NOTE FROM LOTUS : Hey guys. I have been having such a bad writer's block that I couldn't write anything for past few weeks. I'm writing this to, hopefully, get over my writer's block.

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 || 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The red Saleen S7 car, parked outside of Midtown High School, gaining curious glances from the students and passersby. You wait, sitting on the driver's seat, with your phone in your hand. The past week you were out of the country with your father so you had not seen him for the past seven days and barely got to talk to him.

So when you came back today, you wanted to give him a surprise visit. You came here, all confident, but now you were doubting your choices. Maybe you should just wait till school ends?

Fuck it. You are Y/N Stark, girl. Since when do you get nervous?

You checked yourself last time in the back mirror. Perfect as always. You throw yourself a flying kiss and put on your favourite pair of glasses. The car door opens with a click and you get down. It was not long before you were walking down the halls of Midtown High, making everyone stop what they were doing and gawk at you.

You chuckle in your mind. Of course you loved being the centre of attention. You were Tony Stark's daughter after all. Now there's one problem. You don't know exactly where Peter is. You look around the hall before your eyes fall on a boy, sitting with two girl on each side.

Without any second thoughts, you walk up to him, "Hey, do you know where Peter Parker is?"

Flash tore his eyes from the beautiful girls in his arm to the legs standing in front of him. He raised his eyes to your face. His gaze so disgusting that made you want to throw up.

"Talking to me, angel?" Flash stood up, abandoning the girls.

You roll your eyes at his pathetic attempt of flirting. At least he got the angel part right.

"I asked if you know where Peter Parker is." You deadpan.

"Peter Parker? Oh! You mean penis Parker. What do you need with him? I'm sure I can help you way more than he can." Flash wiggled his eyebrows at you, giving you a suggestive look.

You just stared at him, completely unimpressed and now angered. This pathetic flirt has the audacity to call your baby penis— wait a damn minute. Penis Parker? Something clicked in your mind.

"Are you Flash Thompson?" You ask before you could stop yourself.

Surprise flashed on his face before a smug smirk appeared on his face.

"Wow! I know that I'm famous but not much. Damn!" He said, running a hand through his hair.

You giggle at his ignorance as you take off your glasses. Folding it and keeping it safely in your hand bag, you step towards him, closing the distance between you two.

"Listen here you little shit." The smirk on his fell at your words, "If I ever hear from Peter that even got anywhere near him, I'll kidnap you, shave off your head, leave you on a deserted island and post your disgusting nudes all over the internet."

"Wh—"

"Shut up and listen." Flash gulped with fear, his face covered in sweat. The menacing aura around you looked scarier than the monster under his bed.

You say while jabbing on his forehead with your pointer finger, "Don't think of him, don't look at him, don't walk on his direction, don't breathe on his direction. Don't go anywhere around my boyfriend. Got it, you failed experiment of a chimpanzee?"

"Y-yes, I....um, I-I..... I under-understand." He nodded his head vigorously. Anything to get away from you.

"Good." You back away, giving him space to finally breathe in relief. Fuck! He didn't know Peter's girlfriend was this scary.

"Y/N?" The familiar voice of your boyfriend called from behind and your demeanour changed like lizards change colours.

"Hey, Pete." You walk up, giving him a quick kiss, "let's go, you are skipping class today. I missed you."

You linked your arm with him and started dragging him out of the school. Peter complied with you because he did miss you a lot too and skipping one day was not going to do any harm on him.

"I missed you a lot." Peter smiled down at you.

You left the school, leaving behind a embarrassed Flash. After you two left did Flash realised the crowd of students circling around him in the hallway. And they were chuckling while looking down at his pants?

Flash looked, "FUCK!"

His blue jeans were now dark blue, water spread on the floor around him. He had peed in his pants. His face turned red with anger and embarrassment. He should not have fucked with Peter.

FUCK!

© 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒-𝐍-𝐋𝟎𝐕𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 — all content rights belongs to LOTUS-N-L0VE. do not plagiarize any works and do not repost or translate onto any other sites.

All the rights and credits of the characters, gifs, songs and pictures used here belongs to their rightful owners.