#like at some point i will always fall away | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dreamersparacosm · 2 days ago

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jeon jungkook - under the checkered flag (part one)

warnings ; none!

prompt ; in which a girl who doesn’t believe in risks takes the biggest one of all—falling for a man who lives for the thrill.

note ; the TikTok that started it all (you need to watch this to envision racer!jk) GUYS I CANT BELIEVE PART ONE IS HEREEEE i hope u lil angels enjoy!

playlist here

series masterlist here

You stand at the edge of the VIP lounge, the sharp click of your heels against the smooth marble floor a quiet punctuation in a room filled with soft murmurs and the electric hum of anticipation. The glass windows before you stretch wide, offering an unobstructed view of the track below. The roar of the crowd rises and falls like a living thing, almost drowned out by the whir of engines, but you remain removed from it all, as though encased in a bubble of calm.

The race is unfolding in front of you, a blur of speed and motion that holds the crowd in rapt attention. But not you. You’re not here for the spectacle. You’re here because you have no choice.

If it was up to you, you would be curled up at home with a good book.

Your world exists in the quiet hum of spreadsheets and contracts, in the tick of a clock that keeps perfect time with your efficiency. You are the one who makes sure the numbers line up, the one who offers solutions from behind the scenes while others bask in the glory. The event, with its flashing lights and intoxicating energy, is nothing more than background noise to you. The true task at hand are your clients—pleasing them, keeping them content, ensuring they leave with what they need.

Around you, they chatter excitedly about the race, discussing drivers with fervor, as if each name carries the weight of a story, a legend. You smile politely when needed, nodding along to their enthusiasm. It’s part of the job, after all. But the adrenaline, the hunger for victory, the dizzying rush of competition—none of it calls to you.

Your clients are electric with excitement, each eager to bask in the glamour of it all. They laugh, they network, they try to rub elbows with the important people in the room, as if each conversation could bring them closer to something more. You, however, remain at the fringes, a quiet observer of the spectacle. You sip your drink, a touch too sweet for your taste, but it’s expected. You nod politely, always maintaining your composure, never letting them see the distance you’ve carefully cultivated.

The cars race by in a blur of metallic color, their engines a symphony of power and precision. But you stand untouched, removed from it all—an island of quiet in the midst of a storm. Your thoughts drift, but not far—always circling back to the task at hand. You are, after all, a woman of purpose.

Still, the world around you shifts ever so slightly. The energy is palpable, like the thrum of an engine idling before it roars to life.

You’re in the middle of a conversation with Nari, one of your clients, who’s standing beside you, happily chatting away about the race. It’s not an unpleasant exchange, though you keep it measured—carefully maintaining the reserved, corporate presence that’s expected of you. You listen, nodding at appropriate intervals, offering the occasional smile as she recounts the excitement surrounding the event.

Nari, unlike the others in your circle, doesn’t seem to care about the business aspect of the evening as much. She’s enjoying herself—really enjoying herself, letting her enthusiasm radiate out. She’s warm, and that makes her easy to talk to, even if you remain a bit distant in the conversation.

Then, in the middle of a sentence, she slaps your arm—not once, but twice. The suddenness of it makes you blink in surprise, your mind instantly jumping to work. You glance at her, half-expecting her to make some point about the contract or a deadline that’s come up.

But when you turn to her, Nari isn’t looking at you with business eyes. She’s gazing intently at the track, eyes wide with awe. “Look!” she says, voice full of excitement.

You glance down at the racing circuit below, but everything is a blur—a sea of people cheering, the cars zipping by at breakneck speeds. You don’t understand what’s drawing her attention, but you follow her gaze to the far end of the track.

And then you see it.

A man stands near the pit crew, a figure who stands out effortlessly, almost as though the world around him fades away. It’s not just his presence—it’s the way the crowd reacts to him. Eyes are locked on him, whispers swirl, and every now and then, a fan cheers what you assume is his name in admiration.

Nari catches the look on your face and laughs softly. “That’s Jeon Jungkook,” she says, her voice tinged with something you can’t quite place, something between awe and admiration. “You’ve heard of him, right?”

You shake your head, still a little lost. “Should I have?” you ask, keeping your tone polite, though it’s laced with curiosity.

Her eyes widen in disbelief. “He’s only one of the best race car drivers in the world. This whole event is basically about him. I would die for just 10 minutes alone with him.”

You follow Nari’s gaze again, watching as “Jungkook” moves with effortless confidence—his every step radiating a quiet, undeniable power. His race car driver’s suit hugs his frame, the white fabric lined with dark accents and the bold logos of his sponsors. The suit, though simple in design, speaks of his place in this world—the world of speed, danger, and high stakes. It’s pristine, a sharp contrast to the messiness of the pit area, yet he fits into it as if he belongs there completely.

But it’s not just the suit that catches your attention. There’s something magnetic about him. The lip piercing—just a small glint of silver beneath his lower lip—gives him an edge, while the eyebrow piercing above his sharp eyes seems to dare the world to approach him. His hands, resting casually at his sides, are covered in tattoos—delicate yet bold designs that snake up his fingers and wrists, visible even beneath the sleeves of his racing suit. His dark hair, tousled just enough to look effortless, adds to the allure, making him seem like a man who’s too cool to care and too talented to be ignored.

You can’t help but look him over. He’s a stark contrast to anyone you’ve known—his raw energy, his daring look, the kind of man you’ve only ever heard about in stories, the kind you’ve never quite crossed paths with. Not that you have much experience in that department. The world you come from is much more… structured. A world of numbers, strategies, and controlled environments. Nothing like this chaotic, exhilarating universe of racing, adrenaline, and the crowds that follow it.

Nari nudges you lightly. “He’s kind of... impossible to miss, don’t you think?”

You nod, still trying to process the whirlwind of everything around you. “I can see that.”

For a moment, you just watch him—a man who seems so comfortable in his world, his confidence radiating with every movement.

Jungkook’s car, marked by his distinctive racing team’s logo, takes its position at the front. He stands next to it, his figure impossibly calm before the storm, waving to the crowd with an easy, practiced smile that seems to light up the entire stadium. The way he moves, the confidence in his every gesture, makes the rest of the world around you blur into the background. All eyes are on him, from the front row of the VIP box to the fans pressing their faces against the barriers.

His smile is magnetic, a gesture that holds the room in its sway, and then—just as quickly as it arrived—he slips behind the wheel, his body moving with a fluidity that hints at a lifetime of discipline. The helmet is a perfect fit, the visor obscuring his face but never hiding the intensity in his posture. His team surrounds him, final checks being made, and then he’s in the car: strapped in, ready to take on the track with the same precision he’s mastered over the years.

You can feel the energy in the room shift, like the collective breath of a thousand people held in unison. As the engines hum louder, the cars tear forward into the first turn, their bodies slicing through the air like knives. You don’t know much about racing, but you can’t help but feel the sheer power, the danger of it all—the skill it takes to navigate at such speeds.

Nari, beside you, is practically vibrating with excitement. She can hardly sit still, her eyes never leaving the track. “I can’t believe I’m here,” she says, her voice a mix of awe and gratitude. She glances at you, her smile wide and genuine. “You’re seriously the best consultant I’ve ever worked with. This event? Amazing! You have to bring me to more of these. I can’t even handle how cool this is!”

You smile, acknowledging her praise, but your attention drifts back to the track. You’ve never seen anything like this before—never experienced a race in person, never felt the air thrum with the excitement of speed and skill. The crowd’s reactions are infectious. Their eyes never leave the cars, their cheers rising and falling with every passing lap. The noise is overwhelming, yet somehow it doesn’t drown out the sharp clarity of the moment. It’s like you can hear the tires gripping the track, the engines growling in perfect synchronization with the heartbeat of the race itself.

And then, there he is again—Jungkook. His car glides effortlessly through each turn, sharp and controlled, never losing speed. It’s almost as if the car is an extension of himself—his hands on the wheel, his foot pressing the pedal, a perfect partnership of man and machine.

The rest of the VIP section is just as absorbed as you are now, their eyes locked on the track. No one seems to care about anything else. All conversations have died down, replaced by the collective focus on the man in the race car. He’s the center of the universe in this moment, and the crowd knows it.

You watch him move, almost hypnotized by the way his car zips around corners, its sleek frame barely brushing the edge of the track. His body remains a steady presence inside the car, every movement smooth, fluid, like he was born to be in this exact moment.

Nari’s voice breaks through your thoughts again, louder this time, almost giddy. “He’s incredible, right? I swear, no one drives like him. He’s untouchable.”

You nod, barely aware of the words you’re saying in response, your gaze still fixed on him. He’s the kind of person who draws attention effortlessly—someone who doesn’t just race; he commands the track, making it seem like the rest of the world moves at a slower pace. It’s almost impossible to look away.

But after a few more minutes of intense watching, everyone seems to fall back into the habit of corporate mannerisms.

The night stretches on, the hours bleeding into one another with a blur of handshakes, small talk, and the kind of polite smiles that never quite reach your eyes. You can feel the weight of the evening in the tightness of your cheeks from all the forced grins, the exhaustion starting to settle into your shoulders. You keep your posture straight, your voice steady, your words measured, as though each conversation is a carefully placed step along the invisible path you’ve created for yourself. But, truth be told, it’s all starting to feel like too much.

The race has come and gone. The crescendo of excitement has dwindled down to polite murmurs and the clinking of glasses, but the energy remains alive in the air, electric, like the hum of a far-off engine. Around you, investors, some of your coworkers, and clients continue their conversations, chirping in your ear with their endless chatter about the race, the drivers, the statistics—everything and anything, as long as it keeps them entertained. And you? You’re just trying to stay afloat, to steer the conversation back to the real reason you’re here: the merger.

You focus on the man in front of you, nodding at the right times, keeping your voice neutral as you slip between sentences about engines and market strategies. Your mind drifts, but you catch yourself, keeping it professional. It’s a balancing act, one you’ve mastered after years of doing the same dance, smiling just enough, listening with enough attention to make them feel heard, but never too much, never enough to let anyone see the quiet retreat inside your head. You nod at the right times, laughing at the jokes that aren’t funny, offering the occasional “That’s right” when a client drones on about the race they just witnessed.

Then, as you try to pull the conversation back toward the merger details with your client—an overly enthusiastic man who seems more interested in talking about his recent investment portfolio than the deal at hand—you hear it.

A ripple. A whisper. A soft murmur of voices, high-pitched and full of excitement. Female voices. And then, the faint sound of heels clicking against the floor, echoing slightly in the VIP box.

You don’t immediately turn, but the shift in the room is subtle. The air grows thicker with anticipation, the laughter quieter, as though everyone is holding their breath. It’s only when a few heads turn, followed by more murmurs, that you realize what’s happening.

Someone important has entered the VIP box.

Someone you recognize from Nari’s earlier fangirling.

Jungkook.

The shift is almost imperceptible at first, a movement in the periphery of your vision that catches your eye—a figure so distinct, so naturally commanding, that it’s hard to miss. He’s not making an announcement, not demanding attention. He simply enters, and it’s as if the room bends around him, reshaping itself in a way that makes him the undeniable center of gravity. His presence is magnetic. Without even trying, he draws every pair of eyes in the room to him.

You hear the soft laughter of women who have gathered around, trying to look casual, trying to seem unbothered, but the way they adjust themselves, the quick flickers of glances—they can’t help but steal a look at him. And you? You feel the sudden pressure of the moment—his presence now hanging thick in the air like an unspoken truth.

You try to keep your focus on the client in front of you, but your gaze inevitably slips toward him. There he is, still in his racing suit, but now a little looser, his jacket untucked as he walks through the crowd. His casual swagger, the way his head tilts slightly as he acknowledges a few familiar faces—everything about him oozes confidence. He’s not trying to be noticed. But somehow, he is.

Your heart races in a different way now—not because of the speed of the race, but because of the way he moves, the way the crowd subtly parts to make room for him, as if they know who he is and who they are in comparison. He’s an anomaly, a figure who doesn’t belong to this world of quiet mergers and business deals.

You can feel a flutter in your chest, an inexplicable tension rising, but you push it down. You can’t focus on that now. You can’t focus on him. Not with the clients still chattering away, not with your responsibilities still weighing heavily on you. Yet, you can’t ignore the way the room feels suddenly sharper, the air charged with an energy you hadn’t felt before.

There’s a soft rustle of clothing behind you, and when you glance back, you see Nari slipping through the crowd toward Jungkook, her excitement evident in the way her eyes brighten. She’s not the only one. The women around the room are shifting, making their way toward him with a subtle urgency, like moths to a flame.

You return to your client, attempting to steer the conversation back to business, but your mind is drifting again. You can’t help it. You’re aware of every shift in the room, every small movement he makes. He hasn’t looked in your direction yet, but you feel the gravity of his presence—his proximity changing the way you see everything in this space.

For a moment, you wonder why everyone is so captivated. What is it about him that makes it impossible for anyone to look away?

Jungkook moves through the crowd with the effortless grace of someone who has long ago learned the rhythm of the world he inhabits. He’s calm, composed, exchanging polite handshakes with the investors who surround him, his presence making each gesture seem deliberate, calculated. The hum of voices rises and falls in time with his movements, the crowd parting for him like a river parting for a stone. He’s not rushing, not in a hurry. He’s here because he belongs here.

As he works the room, the questions swirl in your mind. Why is he here? What’s the connection? You can’t imagine him needing anything from these people—not with his reputation, not with the wealth and fame that follow him wherever he goes. But still, there’s something about the way the investors are all hanging on his every word, leaning in as though his presence is a golden ticket. You can’t help but wonder if it’s all about money, if this event has as much to do with business as it does with the race itself.

The realization is jarring for a moment. You, someone who is used to orchestrating behind the scenes, someone who deals in numbers and contracts, now find yourself in a room where money and power are on display in ways that are almost foreign to you.

The buzz of conversation shifts, and before you can dive back into your thoughts, Nari is suddenly beside you, her voice loud with excitement, a bright flush of energy in her cheeks. “I can’t believe it!” she practically squeals, looking like she might burst. “He just shook my hand—he shook my hand. I need him so badly, you have no idea.”

You blink, caught off guard by the intensity of her words. She’s practically vibrating with excitement, her eyes wide as she looks back toward him. There’s a kind of longing in her gaze, something that makes the entire room seem a little more... charged, as though everyone’s attention is fixated on him in a way that you simply can’t understand.

You nod, offering a half-hearted smile. “Oh, wow.” The words are polite, simple, just enough to acknowledge her enthusiasm without drawing too much attention to yourself. You’re not sure what to say—what can you say? She’s swept up in the excitement of the moment, but you can’t bring yourself to share that same energy.

Instead, you find your gaze slipping to the snack table at the far side of the room. You don’t want to be in the center of all this, don’t want to be caught up in the growing buzz surrounding him. You slide away from Nari, keeping your movements minimal, your presence as unnoticeable as possible.

The snack table is a welcome refuge—quiet, untouched by the frenzy of the crowd. You stand there for a moment, inhaling the sharp, tangy scent of the cheeses and the subtle sweetness of the wine, a quiet comfort in the sea of noise around you. You nibble on a small piece of cheese, your fingers careful and measured as you pop it into your mouth, savoring the simple relief of it.

Your eyes flick to Jungkook once more—he’s still shaking hands, still effortlessly charming those around him with his easy smile. But now, you feel distant from it all. The noise, the chatter, the way people react to him—it’s all so foreign to you. You slip another piece of cheese into your mouth, focusing on the taste, the quiet that surrounds this small corner of the room. It’s easier here, simpler. You don’t need to pretend, don’t need to keep up with the energy everyone else is feeding off.

And for the briefest moment, you wonder if this is how the world of racing works—how Jungkook works. Not for the thrill, not for the rush, but for the way it makes everyone around him move a little differently, makes them feel things they didn’t know they could. The thought doesn’t linger long before you pull yourself back to the present, focusing instead on the taste of the wine, the cool glass in your hand, the familiar comfort of a world you understand.

The hum of conversation from the other side of the room feels distant now, muffled by the quiet solace of the snack table. You nibble on the cheese with a soft sigh of relief, the familiar taste grounding you. The wine has a slight sweetness, and it’s just enough to keep you in the moment, away from the chaos of the night. The tension from before starts to melt away, and for a few seconds, you let your mind wander—distracted, content with the quiet rhythm of the evening.

You hum lightly to yourself, just enough to fill the space around you but not enough to draw attention. The world feels a little more manageable from here, and you savor that, the small comfort of solitude. You barely even notice the shift in the air at first—the subtle change in the atmosphere that suggests someone has approached.

It isn’t until you feel it—the shift of warmth beside you—that you glance to your left.

And there he is.

Jungkook. Standing beside you. His presence is so undeniable, so magnetic, that it feels like the rest of the room fades just for a second. He’s close, closer than you anticipated, and the sharp contrast between his energy and the calmness of your little corner hits you all at once. The way he stands, so comfortably in his own skin, his posture relaxed but undeniably confident—it makes everything else around you seem smaller.

You freeze for a moment, caught off guard, your mouth still full of cheese. You’ve barely swallowed when his voice breaks through the moment, teasing, light. “I think you’re the first person here not begging for my attention,” he says with a sly smile, his eyes glinting with amusement.

For a split second, you almost choke—cheese threatening to go down the wrong way—but you manage to swallow, your throat suddenly tight with nerves. You cough lightly, your cheeks flushing instantly at the way his words sink in. Begging for his attention? You weren’t begging for anything. You hadn’t even expected to be noticed by him at all.

You look up at him, trying to compose yourself, but the sudden proximity makes everything feel a little too overwhelming. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the flush spreading across your face, but you don’t dare look away from him. Not with him so close, his smile like a direct challenge to your calm.

He’s even more striking up close—everything you’d caught from a distance now amplified. The faintest trace of cologne drifts in the air, something fresh and woodsy, like a walk through a forest after the rain—sharp, clean, and oddly comforting. His scent clings to the space around you, making it feel like he belongs in this small, intimate moment with you. It’s not overwhelming, but it’s enough to make your pulse race in a way you don’t expect.

His face is sharp, defined in a way that makes you almost forget to breathe. His jawline is strong, perfectly sculpted. But it’s his eyes—those big, dark eyes that hold you, flickering with mischief—that draw you in completely. They’re intense, like he’s looking right through you, and yet there’s an ease to him, a calmness that contrasts the usual intensity of his presence. The smile on his lips is soft, almost like he’s amused by something only he knows.

His racing suit is open at the collar, the fabric still tight enough around his shoulders to highlight the muscle beneath. You can see the tattoos again, this time more defined in the soft light—the intricate designs that snake down his hands and wrists, the way they seem to tell stories of places he’s been, people he’s known. They make him feel untouchable, like someone who belongs to a world you don’t understand.

But what really gets to you, what truly stops you for a moment, is the way he stands so effortlessly. There’s no pretense, no act. It’s just Jungkook—confident, unbothered, and entirely himself. And you, the shy, reserved woman who doesn’t know how to even respond to the comment he just made, find yourself completely at a loss.

You chew the inside of your cheek, still trying to compose yourself, and force a smile, but it’s a weak one, barely holding up under the weight of his gaze. “I—I wasn’t really—” You clear your throat, still feeling a little breathless. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore anyone.”

His grin widens, like he’s amused by the awkwardness you’re trying to hide. “No harm done,” he says, his voice low, warm, and entirely too captivating. The way he looks at you, almost like he’s studying you, makes it hard to focus on anything but the feeling of his presence beside you.

In that moment, you realize you’re standing far too close to him. You take a small step back, trying to maintain some sense of space, but the tension between you feels electric, sparking in the quiet gap that’s now between you. His gaze never wavers, though.

There’s a beat of silence between you, one that stretches just long enough for you to feel every little awkward movement, every small shift in your body. You can feel the heat still lingering in your cheeks, but you try to focus on the moment at hand—on the cheese, at least. It’s easier that way.

You glance down at the spread, your hand reaching out without thinking, grabbing another small wedge of cheese, and offering it to him. You can’t help it. It feels like something you should do, a simple gesture to fill the space and keep things light.

“Would you like some?” you ask, your voice far quieter than you’d like it to be. You hold the piece of cheese out toward him, your hand trembling just slightly at the edge of the plate.

Jungkook’s eyes flicker to the cheese for a moment, and then back to you. His lips twitch upward in an amused smile, the kind that seems to reach his eyes as well, making them sparkle in the soft light. He raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his gaze.

“No thanks,” he says, his tone warm and playful. “I’m good.”

You nod, feeling a little foolish but trying to brush it off. “Right, of course. You’ve probably had enough to eat before this with all the racing... and the shaking hands,” you add with a faint, awkward laugh, hoping it will hide the embarrassment that’s suddenly crawling up your neck.

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you can feel his gaze still lingering on you—intense, curious, like he’s trying to figure you out. You shift uncomfortably, biting your lip, trying to think of an excuse to slip away. Your mind races, trying to find the perfect moment to exit without drawing too much attention to your awkwardness.

“So, uh…” You clear your throat, trying to sound casual, but the nervousness makes it impossible. “I should probably—uh—get back to my clients.” You take a small step back, but Jungkook doesn’t make it easy. He doesn’t move, doesn’t make any effort to let you go. Instead, he just smiles wider, watching you with that same unshakable intensity.

“You sure?” he asks, almost like he’s genuinely intrigued. His voice drops a little, softer now, but still playful. “You’re not leaving because of me, are you?”

Your cheeks burn again. You wish there was a hole in the floor you could crawl into. Why is he so intense?

“No, no, I just—” You stumble over your words. “Just… a lot of work. You know.” You laugh nervously, but it sounds like something forced, something too hollow.

You can feel the weight of the conversation press in on you, like the walls are closing in with each passing second. You offer a tight smile, hoping it’s convincing. “It was nice talking to you, though. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

You take another small step back, but Jungkook leans in just a little, his voice low enough that it feels like it’s just for you, a private joke between the two of you.

“You know,” he begins, his smile still tugging at his lips, “you’re the first person I’ve met tonight who hasn’t been totally starstruck by me. It’s… kind of refreshing.”

His gaze flickers down to the cheese again, and you see the teasing glint in his eyes. It’s like he’s playing a game, but you’re still trying to catch up.

You glance at the plate again, trying to avoid his gaze. “Well, I wouldn’t want to be too obvious about it,” you say with a nervous laugh, hoping your attempt at humor doesn’t come off completely awkward. “I mean, it’s just cheese.”

Jungkook laughs, and it’s a warm, low sound that seems to make the air around you feel a little lighter. You look up to see that he’s still watching you, his eyes filled with that same curiosity.

You swallow, still feeling the heat of your blush, trying to keep your composure. “I—uh, I’ll let you get back to your…” You glance around the room, trying to find something to distract yourself with. “Fans,” you finish lamely, gesturing vaguely to the women still surrounding him.

He raises an eyebrow, amused, as if your attempt to pull away is both endearing and mildly amusing. “Right. Fans.”

You take another step back, your hand instinctively reaching for your glass of wine, though it’s still mostly full. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you as you start to turn away, but you don’t look back. You can’t. If you do, you’re afraid you’ll never escape this moment with him.

Social interactions were never your strong suit. Better luck next time.

You slip away from the table, but as you move through the crowd, you can’t quite shake the feeling that Jungkook’s presence is following you. You make your way to the group of clients, trying to dive back into the sea of business chatter, but your mind keeps drifting. You catch yourself glancing around the room, as if waiting for something—anything—to pull your attention away from the chaos of the evening.

And then, of course, there’s the unmistakable sound of chatter about Jungkook, quiet but deliberate. You don’t need to turn around to know who won’t shut up—Nari.

She’s yapping away to some of your colleagues, other girls you work with that are swept up by Jungkook. There’s a few moments where you wonder if you should join, take some time to yourself to listen in on what they have to say about him, but you hold yourself back.

You end up spending more time burying yourself in the crowd, talking to any man who has ears. After all, your boss and you were managing the largest merger of the year and it would be incredibly irresponsible not to focus on the task at hand.

However, after twenty minutes of empty conversations and nothing getting you closer to your goal, you excuse yourself to go to the restroom and freshen up.

On your way, you discreetly look around for Jungkook—not like you care, but just out of curiosity. As any sane person would do.

You sigh quietly to yourself, shuffling towards the restroom. As you walk down the hallway, you see a buff figure walking towards you. It really is quite dark in the hallway, they should really—Ah fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sirens are going off in your head like someone’s under arrest. But it’s too late. He’s already there.

He stops in front of you, blocking your path to the bathroom. “Leaving the snack table so soon?” Jungkook’s voice is light, but there’s something about it that still makes your heart skip a beat. He is close enough for you to feel his presence but not so close that it feels suffocating. His tone is playful, teasing, as if he’s aware of how you’re trying to avoid him.

“I thought you were just getting started with the cheese,” he adds, his lips curling into that mischievous smile again.

You pause, glancing over your shoulder to see if anyone can save you, your expression betraying nothing but a slight flicker of embarrassment. “I, uh… I had to get back to my clients.” Your voice is quieter now, more measured, the words leaving your mouth carefully. You try to stay calm, despite the heat still rushing to your face. “You’ve got plenty of people to talk to, though.”

Jungkook doesn’t seem to be deterred. He leans in slightly, his smile widening, but his gaze softens just enough that you notice the change. “Not everyone, though.” He pauses, his eyes briefly scanning over you. “Everyone else is... well, they’re all talking to me, but no one’s really listening, you know? It’s not the same.”

You bite your lip, trying to maintain your composure. “I’m not sure what to say.”

“No worries,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal, the hint of something more vulnerable flashing in his eyes for just a moment. “I’ll talk. You don’t have to.”

There’s a slight playfulness there, but also something more genuine in the way he’s looking at you now. “I’m just curious. You don’t seem like you’re here for all this. The whole… racing thing.”

You blink, surprised by his perceptiveness. “I’m here for work,” you say, your voice almost reflexive. You don’t know why you feel the need to justify it, but you do. It’s who you are. It’s what you do.

Jungkook’s eyes remain on you, his curiosity still simmering beneath the surface. He doesn’t push, but there’s a quiet persistence in his gaze. “That’s fair,” he says, nodding. “But you know, sometimes... people miss out on the good stuff when they’re too focused on work.”

You can’t help but laugh lightly, though it feels slightly awkward. “I’m not really one for distractions.”

He smirks, eyes dancing with amusement. “I wouldn’t call me a distraction,” he says, voice lowering ever so slightly. “More like… a different perspective.”

You hesitate, unsure of how to respond. Something about the way he’s looking at you makes the air feel thick, but not uncomfortable—just charged with that same curiosity that keeps you on edge. But the last thing you want to do is make things more complicated than they already are.

“I’m not—” You stop yourself, realizing you’re just rambling now. “I’m not really someone who… stands out.” The words slip out before you can stop them, but as soon as they do, you regret it. You want to take them back.

“Hm,” He whispers, leaning in and looking around like he’s sharing a secret with you. “I disagree.”

And with that, he turns on his heel, brushes past you, and disappears back into the room of investors and financial advisors.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It’s a slow Saturday, the kind that moves at its own pace, unbothered by the rush of the world. You savor days like this—quiet, predictable, wrapped in the small comforts of your routine. Grocery shopping, yoga, a few errands. Nothing extraordinary, nothing chaotic. Just peaceful.

You hum softly to yourself as you push your cart down the aisle, scanning the shelves for the last few things on your list. The fluorescent lights above hum just as softly, the occasional beep of a barcode scanner echoing somewhere in the distance.

Your grocery store isn’t a grand, upscale market—it’s just the one closest to your apartment, the same one you’ve been going to for years. It’s the cutest little shop, nothing like those expensive groceries in the middle of the city. You’ve never even spotted a celebrity here, despite Seoul being a city where that should be possible. But that’s fine with you. You prefer the anonymity, the ability to mind your business in your leggings and oversized hoodie, hair barely tamed into a ponytail.

You reach for a box of cereal, standing on your tiptoes to grab it from the top shelf. But the moment your fingers brush against it, disaster strikes.

A domino effect.

One box tips, then another, and before you can react, an entire row of brightly colored cereal boxes comes tumbling down in an avalanche of poor balance and regret.

You yelp softly, scrambling to catch at least one of them, but your coordination fails you miserably. The boxes hit the ground in a loud thud, rolling slightly before settling in a messy pile at your feet.

You stare at the disaster, your brain short-circuiting as you try to decide whether to pretend it never happened or make a run for it. But then—

A low chuckle.

A very familiar chuckle.

A chuckle you heard less than 24 hours ago.

You freeze, your entire body stiffening before you slowly turn your head.

And there, standing way too close in your very normal, very not-celebrity-worthy grocery store, is Jeon Jungkook.

Holding a carton of almond milk and pushing a cart full of groceries.

Dressed in a black hoodie, sweatpants, and a backward cap, looking annoyingly good for a man just trying to buy groceries.

You blink, convinced you’re hallucinating. This can’t be real. Why is he here? Why is Jeon Jungkook grocery shopping like a normal person, in your store, might you add?

His grin widens when your eyes meet, pure amusement lighting up his face. “We have to stop meeting like this,” he muses, crouching down to pick up one of the fallen cereal boxes. “Or are awkward encounters just your thing?”

Your soul tries to exit your body.

You open your mouth, but no words come out, your brain still struggling to bridge the gap between last night’s VIP suite and this very ordinary grocery store aisle.

“Are you…?” You trail off, because duh, of course he’s him. There’s no mistaking those tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves, the lip piercing catching the light as he smirks at you like you’re the most amusing thing he’s seen all day.

Jungkook tilts his head, as if waiting for you to finish your sentence. When you don’t, he laughs lightly. “Am I what? Grocery shopping? Yeah. Kind of unavoidable if I wanna eat.”

You blink again, your brain still short-circuiting. “I just— I mean, I didn’t think you did normal things like this.”

His grin turns downright mischievous. “What do you think I do? Have groceries magically appear in my fridge?”

You fluster, feeling ridiculous. “Well… kind of?”

He laughs, shaking his head as he hands you one of the cereal boxes. “Nah, I like picking out my own snacks. What if my assistant gets the wrong ones?” His voice dips slightly, playful. “I take my cereal very seriously.”

You let out an exhale, trying to find your footing in this conversation. “I see,” you murmur, glancing down at the boxes scattered around your feet. “Unfortunately, I seem to have tried to kill them all.”

Jungkook lets out a dramatic sigh, crouching again to pick up more. “Tragic. They never stood a chance.” He looks up at you, eyes twinkling. “But hey, you’re consistent. First nearly choking on cheese, now this. What’s next? Knocking over a fruit stand?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Please don’t remind me about the cheese.”

“But it was my favorite part,” he teases. “Seeing you all flustered.”

You huff, quickly gathering the rest of the cereal and shoving it back onto the shelf. “I wasn’t flustered.”

Jungkook leans against the cart he just now retrieved, his smirk lazy, knowing. “Mmm.” He doesn’t sound convinced at all.

You clear your throat, desperate to change the subject. “So, um… do you always shop here?”

He shrugs. “It’s close to my place. And quieter than those big department stores. Less people trying to take pictures of me while I buy bananas.”

You stare at him. “People take pictures of you while you buy bananas?”

“Oh, yeah,” he deadpans. “One time, a fan took a picture of my shopping cart and started analyzing what kind of guy I was based on my snack choices.”

Your eyes widen. “And what was the verdict?”

Jungkook sighs. “Apparently, my protein bar choices scream ‘emotionally unavailable.’”

You snort. “Well, they might not be wrong.”

His jaw drops in playful offense. “Wow. And here I thought we were getting along.”

You laugh, feeling yourself relax—until his expression shifts, something softer in his gaze now. He studies you for a moment before speaking.

“I was actually hoping I’d see you again,” he admits, and your stomach flips violently. “You left so fast last night, I didn’t get the chance to ask for your number.”

Your brain short-circuits again. You blink up at him, completely dumbfounded. “Wait. Why would you want my number?”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, amused. “Because I want to text you?”

Your mouth opens, then closes. You struggle to find an answer that makes any sense. “But… why?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

You don’t. Not at all.

The idea that he—a man who could have anyone, a man who’s probably been linked to actresses and models and the kind of women who look like they belong in his world—would want to text you is beyond comprehension.

So you do the only thing you can think of.

You smile politely and say, “I appreciate it, but… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Jungkook blinks, caught off guard for the first time since this conversation started. “Wait. Are you rejecting me?”

You shift uncomfortably, suddenly feeling too warm. “I just… don’t think we’re the kind of people who text each other.”

He looks at you for a long moment before shaking his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You clutch your cart a little tighter. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He exhales, shaking his head like he can’t quite believe what’s happening. Then, with a playful salute, he backs away. “Alright. No number—for now.” He winks. “But I have a feeling this isn’t the last time we’ll run into each other.”

And with that, he disappears down the aisle, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, wondering how on earth your quiet Saturday turned into that.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Monday morning, you find yourself back at your desk, the quiet hum of the office filling the space around you. The excitement of the race lingers, its echoes still vibrating in the air. Clients are still singing your praises in your email inbox, and your boss is smiling more than usual, clearly impressed by the successful merger. For the first time in a while, you feel like you’ve done something right. The buzz of the event, of the energy you felt while navigating the chaos, is a distant memory, but it lingers in a more subtle way—quietly at the back of your mind.

You sip your coffee, staring at the screen in front of you, but your thoughts drift every now and then. The loud office, the steady rhythm of typing, all fades out a little when you remember your Saturday. Jungkook’s smile, his presence... it’s all still there in fragments, playing in your mind. You shake your head, trying to push it down. No need to revisit it. Not now.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Jisoo’s voice breaks through your thoughts, bright and full of energy as always. You look up to see her standing in front of your desk, her hand on her hip and a wide grin on her face. Jisoo, your coworker, your work best friend and polar opposite, always seems to bring light with her wherever she goes. Her laughter is loud, her confidence undeniable. If you had a tenth of her charm, you’d feel unstoppable. But you don’t. And that’s fine. You just admire it from afar, wishing you could be more like her.

She tilts her head, eyeing you for a second. “How was the race Friday night?” she asks, sliding into the chair across from you without waiting for a response. “Clients were probably all over you. Everyone is still talking about it.”

You shrug casually, hiding the way your heart rate picks up at the mention of the event. “It was fine,” you say, keeping your tone neutral. “Same as any other corporate event. Just a lot of small talk.”

Jisoo’s eyebrows shoot up. “Small talk? You saw all those famous drivers. Some of the most handsome guys out there! Bet you had a blast.”

You shake your head with a soft laugh, pushing the thought of Jungkook back where it belongs. “Yeah, it’s not really my scene. The clients were happy, though, so that’s what counts.”

Jisoo leans forward, narrowing her eyes with that playful glint you’ve seen a thousand times before. “Hmm… that totally doesn’t sound convincing. There’s gotta be something interesting that happened. Something crazy? Don’t leave me hanging.”

You feel your cheeks warm just at the thought, but you quickly wave it off, your hands busy shuffling papers on your desk. “Nothing really. Just a lot of racing and cheering.”

Jisoo raises an eyebrow, obviously unconvinced. She glances around, ensuring no one else is within earshot before lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Wait, hold up. Wasn’t that sexy driver Jeon Jungkook there?” She grins widely, like she’s figured out some huge secret.

Your heart stutters for a second, and you try to play it cool. You casually shrug, pretending like you don’t care. “I don’t know. I don’t really keep track of the drivers.” Your voice is light, but inside you’re anything but calm. The heat creeping up your neck betrays you.

Jisoo’s grin only widens, clearly enjoying the moment. “Uh-huh. Sure. I see the way you’re reacting right now. You have a celebrity crush on him, don’t ya?”

You feel the flush in your cheeks deepen, and you quickly take a sip of your coffee, hoping it’ll hide your embarrassment. “I mean... he was there. Yeah.” You try to make it sound like it doesn’t matter, like you didn’t notice the way his presence shifted the energy in the room, but your tone is too soft, too uncertain. Jisoo is practically bouncing in her seat with amusement.

“Uh-huh. And I bet you’re also going to tell me you didn’t catch a glimpse of him at all?” she teases, leaning forward now, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “The guy with the tattoos and the eyebrow piercing? The one who looks like he was born to be the center of attention?”

You swallow, suddenly feeling trapped in your own embarrassment. “Okay, fine,” you admit, trying to shrug it off. “He looked... fine.” Your voice is barely a whisper at the end, and Jisoo bursts out laughing.

“I knew it! You look like you’re ready to faint.” She pauses, grinning like she’s uncovered the biggest secret of the year. “You are totally flustered, and it is adorable.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands for a second, but Jisoo only laughs harder. “Oh, come on! You have to admit—he’s got the whole bad-boy charm down, huh? I mean, who wouldn’t be a little flustered?”

You shake your head, trying to hide your growing smile. “I wasn’t flustered. I just... hate this conversation topic.” Your voice sounds weak even to your own ears, but Jisoo seems to take that as all the confirmation she needs.

“You totally are.” She shakes her head, still grinning. “It’s okay, though. I get it. I mean, we don’t usually meet guys like him in our usual work world.”

You wince slightly, but Jisoo just gives you a wink, clearly teasing but with no malice behind it.

Just as you try to collect your thoughts, to brush off the teasing from Jisoo, your work phone rings, cutting through the tension like a lifeline. You nearly jump out of your seat, grateful for the distraction. Jisoo, ever the playful force of nature, grins even wider, leaning over your desk to grab the phone with a mischievous look in her eyes.

“Hello, this is (Y/N)’s phone,” she says in a mock-serious tone, her fingers tapping at the bobblehead on your desk in time with the words, clearly enjoying herself. “How may we help you today?”

You raise an eyebrow, exasperated but relieved that the attention is off of you for a moment. Jisoo’s antics, as usual, are borderline absurd, but they’re what you need to keep your mind from spiraling. She waves the phone around a little, tossing the bobblehead in the air and catching it again, all while you try to ignore her antics and focus on the tasks at hand.

Then, you hear the voice on the other end. A man’s voice, smooth but businesslike, and it immediately pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Is this (Y/N) (L/N)?” the voice asks, formal and crisp.

You freeze, blinking at Jisoo as she gives you a confused look. You didn’t expect a work call at this hour. You rip the phone out of her hand. “Uh, yes, this is (Y/N),” you say hesitantly, wondering who it could be. You didn’t recognize the voice, and the formal tone sets off a strange feeling in your stomach.

“Great,” the man continues, not missing a beat. “I’m calling on behalf of Jeon Jungkook. You may have met him in the VIP box at the racing event on Friday.”

For a brief second, the world seems to tilt. You hear the words “Jeon Jungkook” and your mind goes blank. The name registers, but everything around you suddenly feels a little… fuzzy. Jungkook? Why would he be calling you? Better yet, how the fuck did this dude get your work number?

Before you even realize what you’re doing, you slam the phone down, your heart racing in your chest. The noise of it hitting the receiver echoes in your ears like a deafening gong.

Jisoo’s eyes go wide, her playful demeanor completely wiped off her face. “What was that??” she asks, leaning back in her chair with raised eyebrows, clearly confused and a little amused.

You stare at the phone for a moment, unsure of what just happened. The shock is settling in, but you’re still stuck on the absurdity of the call. Was this some kind of joke? You slowly pick the phone back up, your voice soft and shaky. “Sorry, I’m here,” you say, clearly flustered. “What… what was that about?”

The man’s voice comes back, just as calm and formal as before. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Jungkook’s manager. He wanted to get to know you better, and I’m calling to see if you’d be open to that. Maybe you could meet with him sometime?”

You freeze again. You can barely process the words. This doesn’t make sense. Why on earth would Jungkook, the famous race car driver, want to meet you? You’re literally just a girl, the quiet one who barely makes waves. The idea of it is almost laughable.

You’re aware that Jisoo has been silently watching you the entire time, her eyes locked on the phone with a curious, mischievous glint. Her hand hovers near the receiver, waiting for you to react. You feel her gaze on you, but your brain is too overwhelmed to process much else.

“Uh, what?” You barely whisper it, as though saying it aloud would make it real. Your voice is barely a sound, and yet the words hang in the air like a strange invitation that you never asked for.

The man on the phone continues, his voice still calm, but you can hear the faintest note of uncertainty. “Sorry, I know this might be weird. It could be a casual hangout, nothing too formal. He just wanted to know if that’s something you might be interested in.”

Your mind is whirling. This is not happening. This is too much. You’re just trying to make a living, trying to do your job. You’re not someone who would—could—be on Jungkook’s radar. Why would he be interested in you?

Before you can make any decision, before you can even properly process the insanity of the situation, Jisoo, ever the opportunist, rips the phone from your hand. “Hello?” she says cheerfully, clearly not noticing your state of shock. “I’d love to meet with him. When would he be free?”

She’s already grinning like a Cheshire cat, and without missing a beat, she adds, “Oh, and you can just text the details to me. Thanks.”

She gives the man your cell number.

You stare at her in disbelief as she hangs up, completely unaware of your growing panic. Jisoo looks up from the phone with a broad grin. “There! It’s all taken care of. I’m sure Jungkook will be thrilled to meet you.”

You blink, trying to process what just happened. “Jisoo, no! I don’t—” You feel a knot form in your stomach. “Why did you do that? I don’t even know what’s going on! This is insane!”

She shrugs, still smiling. “You’re welcome! Don’t worry, you’ll thank me later when you’re hanging out with Jeon Jungkook. Why the fuck are you not ecstatic right now?”

You can’t find the words to explain how out of your depth you feel right now. You wanted no part in this, no entanglements with a race car driver, especially one as out of reach as Jungkook.

You sit there, in stunned silence, trying to get a grip on what just happened. Jungkook’s manager—his manager—called you.

Jisoo’s grin only widens as she watches your face slowly turn a deeper shade of red. She leans back in her chair, clearly enjoying the chaos she’s just set in motion. “I just gave you a golden opportunity, and I’m pretty sure Jungkook is going to be head over heels for you in no time.”

You bury your face in your hands for a moment, overwhelmed by the rush of it all. “Jisoo, I don’t—this is insane! Why would he be interested in me? I don’t even know how to talk to people at these events. I literally choked on cheese in front of him.”

Jisoo laughs loudly, drawing the attention of a couple of nearby coworkers. “Oh please,” she says with a dramatic eye roll, clearly not buying it. “Clearly, you’ve got this whole I’m just a little scared shy girl thing going on, and you’re the only person who isn’t swooning over him. That’s what makes you so intriguing. You’re sooo chill about everything.”

She smirks, her fingers tapping on the desk. “And let’s be honest, you’re not exactly hard to look at either.”

You nearly choke on your own air at her comment. “Stop it, seriously,” you mutter, trying to hide the heat rising in your cheeks. You’re too embarrassed to even look at her now, feeling like the walls are closing in.

Jisoo watches you with a knowing smile. “I mean, he’s a race car driver, and he’s interested in you,” she says, practically swooning with dramatic flair. “This is like every rom-com plot you could ever dream of! You’re totally going to fall for him, I can already tell.”

You groan, sinking lower into your chair. “This is not a rom-com, Jisoo. It’s a nightmare.”

She leans forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Yeah, well, in the rom-com, the shy girl always ends up with the cool, charming guy, doesn’t she? But instead of running away, you should go for it. Trust me, I’m good at reading these things.”

You look at her, horrified. “I don’t want anything to do with this. I just—he’s not my type. I’m not his type.”

Jisoo scoffs dramatically. “You don’t even know your type! Maybe Jungkook is your type. Have you ever even given it a chance?”

Before you can answer, your cell phone buzzes, pulling you out of the whirlwind conversation. You glance at the phone screen, feeling your heart jump into your throat as you see an unrecognized number pop up.

Your finger hesitates over the screen before you reluctantly swipe to open the message. Your eyes widen as you read the text:

"Hey, it’s Jungkook. Was kinda harder to find you than I thought it would be. Hope you’re okay with my manager calling you, I know that might’ve been weird."

You blink a few times, staring at the message as if it might disappear, but the words remain, taunting you from the screen. Your fingers freeze over your phone, and you can feel your heartbeat accelerate. What in the world is happening?

Jisoo, clearly seeing your reaction, leans in eagerly, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “Oh my god, is that him? Is that his text? You have to show me!”

You’re too stunned to respond right away, your face burning as you hold the phone in front of her. She snatches it from your hands without hesitation, her eyes dancing with glee as she reads the message aloud in a dramatic whisper.

She looks up from the screen, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh. My. God.” She says, her voice almost a shriek. “This is so much better than I ever imagined. He’s flirting with you! He literally said he had to find you. Do you know what that means?!”

You shake your head slowly, in total disbelief. “This is too much.”

Jisoo shakes the phone in your face. “No, this is perfect,” she says, barely able to contain her excitement. “You’ve got a race car driver hitting on you! What is wrong with you?”

You close your eyes and press your palms to your forehead. “I don’t know, I’m just... so confused.”

Jisoo stands up, grabbing her own phone from her desk. “You’re going to reply to him, okay? And you’re going to do it now.” She waves her phone around in the air like she’s orchestrating some kind of performance. “This is your chance. You can’t just let it slip away like some boring corporate drone. You need to text him back.”

“Jisoo, I can’t,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know what to say to him. What does he want with me?”

Jisoo looks at you, her eyes wide with exaggerated seriousness. “You’re going to text him, and you’re going to make it clear that you’re not some shy girl who can’t handle a little attention.” She smiles mischievously. “Just text him back. And if you can’t do that, I’ll literally rip the phone from your hand and do it for you.”

You open your mouth to protest, but before you can speak, Jisoo grabs the phone out of your hand and types away at the screen with lightning speed.

“Done,” she says, grinning like a cat who’s caught the canary.

“What did you—” You stop yourself as she quickly hands you the phone. The message has been sent.

You look at her in pure shock. “Jisoo, you didn’t…”

“Oh yes, I did,” she says, practically skipping around your desk. “You’re welcome. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

You stare at the message she sent: “Hey! Thanks for reaching out. It wasn’t weird, don’t worry.”

Before you can say anything else, Jisoo gives you a wink and turns to walk back to her desk, completely unfazed by the whirlwind she’s created.

You look down at the phone in your hand, its screen glowing with the weight of a decision you’re not ready to make. The thought of being pulled into a world like Jungkook’s—one filled with chaos, adrenaline, and a dangerous kind of freedom—feels foreign to you, like a path you’re meant to observe from a distance, never walk. You’ve always preferred the quiet, steady hum of the sidelines, watching the world swirl around you without ever getting caught in its current.

Your life, in all its routine and predictability, feels safe, contained. You’ve spent years navigating the corporate world, where the language is numbers, the rules are clear, and nothing is left to chance.

Your ex boyfriend was just like you—someone who understood the rhythms of work, someone who shared your focus on the future, the steady climb up the ladder. People like Jungkook, with their wild tattoos, sharp piercings, and the constant rush of danger, are the antithesis of everything you’ve ever wanted. He’s everything you’ve carefully kept at arm’s length.

But now, here you are—unexpectedly entangled in a world you never asked to be part of, a world that feels as reckless as it is foreign.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts army

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prael · 19 hours ago

Text

Conciliation

ILLIT Moka x Yunah // part 2 to Punishment

words: 6,035 Masterlist

Two weeks have gone by. Two weeks since the incident in their dorm room. For Yunah, it's as though that night never happened. It was just some afterthought that had been shoved down in the deep corners of her memory, as though she would sooner forget and have Moka pretend it was nothing at all.

Moka thinks of nothing else.

She thinks about it in her classes, daydreaming when she should be practising. Rehearsals have become a stop-start procedure, with everyone turning to Moka with the same question: are you okay? She feels so pathetic. Embarrassed at herself, but still thinking, wondering, wishing, that maybe tonight might be that night; that Yunah might snap at some point and give her just a single touch.

She's thought about doing it again, just the same way, touching herself while Yunah is around. Even the mere idea has Moka wet with shame. It would work, surely, it has to work. Then Moka talks herself out of it. Doing it again, trying to instigate a reaction, she may as well just confess, beg, and plead with Yunah. Admit that she likes her. Tell her just how crazy it makes Moka when she walks around the room in only a t-shirt and panties. When she shakes her hair loose out of a ponytail, her brunette hair cascades in the moonlight, looking so soft and thick, and Moka can't get over her.

They're on their way out of the country, for another big show. Another sleepless night spent travelling. Another opportunity for Yunah to glare at Moka when she's obviously not focused or too busy stumbling through her moves. Another opportunity for her to sit there, only her and her dirty, little thoughts.

There's a slight turbulence, enough to make the sleeping Yunah move in her seat, her head rolling to the side. She looks peaceful and beautiful. That same fringe she's so particular about always ends up in her eyes, so naturally, Moka wants to reach up and push it away, but she forces herself back, that's the last thing she wants; to wake her and look suspicious.

"Not sleeping?" A voice from the other side, makes Moka tear her eyes away from Yunah and find Minju. Minju gives a curious look at Yunah before returning her gaze to Moka.

"Can't sleep," Moka confesses with a sigh.

Minju doesn't reply at first, the look she is giving, makes Moka believe she is contemplating whether she should share or not. "Me neither. Keep thinking about tomorrow."

Moka hums a vague affirmative in response. She wants to appear agreeable and that she isn't preoccupied with the thoughts of someone else.

Minju gives her a wry smirk. "What about you? You keep spacing out."

Her question strikes a chord in Moka. For some reason, she can't deny it or lie about what's been going through her head, and even when she should probably deny it, Moka still finds herself talking about her. "Have you ever liked someone who hated your guts? Like so much it physically hurts," Moka can't help the questions slipping past her lips. It's pathetic really. She should know better, and she knows she's saying too much and too openly, but it's not her fault. She just can't handle it all, not for another minute.

"Are you saying there's a guy you like?" Minju asks, which at least offers Moka the reassurance that the others haven't realised what's going on; why else would she ask that? "You know we're not allowed to date anyone, Moka."

"I know, and I'm not going to date anyone, but I can still like someone, right?"

Minju laughs. "Yeah, you can do what you like," she replies while stealing another look at the older girl across from them, sleeping. "So why does he hate your guts then?"

"Well, I—"

Yunah sighs, breaking the conversation as the pair suddenly falls quiet. They freeze like deer caught in the headlights of a car as Yunah, shifts in her seat, adjusting her position before relaxing again. There is a relief between them, letting out a heavy breath at the realisation that their friend is still very much asleep.

"Lucky her," Minju finally says, shaking her head. "I can't wait for us all to be back in our hotel rooms and having some proper sleep." Minju sighs, turning back to Moka. "You were saying?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Don't worry about it, forget I said anything," Moka rambles. She finds herself silently cursing herself. If the truth of her desires slipped and spilt out, there's no telling what kind of trouble she would be in. But Minju looks at her in a strange sort of understanding, nodding and giving her a reassuring smile.

Moka returns the sentiment and lays her head on her friend's shoulder. Her heartbeat starts to slow down, and as time passes, sleep draws in, luring her into its clutches, and at last, her eyelids flutter shut.

It's 4 am and they're shambling into the hotel lobby, weary, eyes burning, muscles tired, with sore shoulders and legs.

"We've booked rooms for you all. We just went with the same arrangement as the dorm," the manager explains, sending Moka's heart crashing. She and Yunah. Of course. She nods weakly and trudges to the lift alongside her members.

Yunah opens the door, and Moka follows. They haven't spoken a word to each other. The moment the hotel door is closed, and Moka drops her bag on the floor, Yunah takes off her jacket, hanging it on a hook. Moka slips her shoes off, trying her hardest not to make eye contact.

"Moka?"

Fuck. Why couldn't she just walk past without saying anything? Moka's cheeks feel hot. Why now? She glances up, and the look she receives from Yunah doesn't give anything away.

"What's gotten into you? Are you sick?" She snaps, walking right up to her. A rough hand takes hold of her chin, forcing her face up and it shocks Moka so much that it knocks her off her axis for a moment.

There she is. Again. So close. It takes a moment, or three, to figure out what she even said. Moka goes to shake her head, but with her face being held so firmly in place, it's impossible. "No, I'm fine." She swallows. "Just a little nervous."

"Why are you lying to me?"

Her face is still gripped, she's forced to keep eye contact with her and she hates it. She hates that her skin prickles as Yunah's beautiful gaze pours down.

"Whatever," Yunah says incredulously, her hand holding Moka's jaw. Moka nods as best as she can and then she's released. She misses her touch the moment Yunah's hand is gone and she's left to drop her head. "We can't have you being distracted tomorrow. Just get it together."

The older girl retreats into the bathroom, closing the door and leaving a disgruntled Moka alone. She could scream, but instead, she swallows down her frustration.

Moka undresses and slips into her shorts and tank top. She flops onto the soft covers and waits. Curses and empty wishes run through her mind; her fist tightens into a frustrated ball and her eyebrows furrow. How is she supposed to do anything like this? How can she think about anything other than her?

Soon, Yunah returns, but all Moka gets from her is silence, nothing, absolutely nothing, and yet here she is, lying and waiting. Pathetic, it's downright fucking pathetic. She takes a deep breath and lets herself turn and stare at her back. "Yunah?"

"What?"

"Why did you make me feel good?"

"You talk about that like it meant something," Yunah responds, turning her attention away from her phone. Her beautiful hair fans out against the pillow.

"Did it?"

Yunah responds with her own question, "Did you want it to?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry." She turns her attention back to her phone, effectively dismissing her and the conversation altogether.

"Please—"

"Goodnight, Moka," Yunah bites. Her tone leaves no more room for discussion. No room for questioning.

Moka clamps her mouth shut, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. What more could she say? How many ways could she plead with her before it becomes demeaning? But the silence in her room makes the ache between her thighs feel unbearable and impossible to ignore.

It's nearly an hour later when Moka gives in, dipping her hands between her legs. She rubs against the front of her shorts and shudders as she teeters on the brink of losing her senses and giving in to her desires. But the bed shifts, the sheets move, and she stops.

Yunah rolls over and she looks at Moka, as though expecting her to do something, anything. The eye contact alone has Moka feeling so small and helpless.

"Do it," Yunah whispers.

"W-what?"

"I know you want to. These past weeks you've been so distracted. I know you're always thinking of it, of what happened, what I did. I see the way you look at me."

"I... I'm sorry."

Yunah rolls her eyes. "Just do it."

"But you hate it. It makes you uncomfortable, I can't—" Yunah cuts Moka off as she moves closer, she slips her fingers past the waistband of Moka's shorts, down to the wet warmth of her cunt. "Yunah," she whimpers. Moka bites her lip to hold in the noises, but it's impossible to stay silent as Yunah runs teasing touches over her lips, threatening to slip between them.

"You can't do it, can you? Not on your own, not since I've touched you." She says it so plainly that Moka can't help but agree. She knows the truth. "But you don't want to ask for my help because you know I'll just say no. So here I am, doing it for you." Yunah's finger slides between Moka's lips and runs up to her clit. It makes Moka gasp. "Think about why that is. Why would I want to help you?" she murmurs as her fingers circle the hard, little nub.

"I don't know." The words are barely audible.

"I think you do," Yunah says and then her fingers go away.

"No, don't stop."

"I know it's hard, Moka," Yunah whispers. Her fingers are back. They're running through the lips of Moka's cunt, sliding easily, making the skin slick and sensitive. Moka can hardly think as the fingers run up and down, stroking and teasing, edging closer to the opening. "But I need you to say it."

"Because," Moka chokes out. Her head is spinning, and she feels so dizzy. She can hardly form a single thought. All she knows is how good she feels, how desperate she is for those fingers. "You like making me feel good. Because you want it just as bad."

"Because I want it, Moka," Yunah whispers, pushing a single finger into Moka's tight entrance. It sinks in so deep and she moans. She's so fucking sensitive. The feeling of the finger as it enters and stretches her, the feeling as it curls inside, the way it moves slowly and deliberately, is enough to have her trembling. Yunah has to lean in and put her mouth by Moka's ear. "I can't get the fucking thought of you out of my head."

"Oh god."

The words have the desired effect and Yunah's hand moves faster, the thrusts come harder and Moka is completely helpless. Her body starts to arch, her back rises off the mattress and her chest is pulled upwards as if offering herself to the other girl. Her little chest rises, her nipples hardening under the material of her top. Yunah looks at her body and smiles. She pushes a second finger inside, her thumb begins to work her clit and Moka's hands are holding tight to the pillow behind her.

Moka doesn't care that she's moaning, or that she can't stop saying her roommate's name. All that she cares about is how her body is starting to clench, how her hips are bucking and how her legs have gone so rigid, and it's just the best feeling, the best thing that she's ever experienced in her life. Moka opens her eyes and finds Yunah staring. Her face is so close; Moka wants her closer.

She has the overwhelming desire to taste Yunah's lips, but not the strength to pull her down, so she settles for the fingers inside of her and the hand that keeps working her cunt until the orgasm comes.

Moka pulls the pillow tight around her head, muffling the sound that spills from her mouth. She feels her walls tightening around Yunah's digits, her entire body clenching and shaking, and her eyes rolling back. She's so close.

Yunah climbs over her, kneeling between her slender thighs and her fingers never leave. They're so deep. The pressure is too intense. She feels the walls inside of her start to tighten, the heat growing inside her. Moka's head turns and buries into the pillow she holds onto for dear life.

"Look at me, Moka," she coos, leaning into her. "I said look at me."

Yunah takes Moka's hand, prying it away from the pillow. Powerless to resist, Moka's arm is pushed above her head, and then the other. They're placed together, held under Yunah's grasp and Moka's head is free and forced to look at the beautiful woman on top of her, forced to see those deep brown eyes and that gorgeous hair, that pretty face with the full lips, the perfect lips, the ones Moka wishes were pressed against her. But that would be too much. Moka would never want anything more ever again. If she kisses her then it's game over, all she would ever need would be right here. Moka could never think about anyone or anything other than her, ever again.

Moka's stomach tightens, and her face contorts. She lies there helplessly as she is overcome, and the climax hits. She can't help it. She's moaning so loudly and she's clenching around Yunah's fingers. Her legs shake and her arms try to pull themselves away, to have something to cling to. But she can't move. All Moka can do is give into the pleasure. It washes over her, the sensation coursing through her body, making her toes curl.

She leaks messily onto Yunah's hand. The sounds of wetness fill her ears, the lewd, squelching noises as the fingers continue to work her pussy, fucking her through the high and prolonging the sensation until her mind blanks, her body convulses and her voice breaks into a pathetic whine. Moka's head thrashes back and forth, and she's crying, sobbing out loud.

She's left panting, chest heaving as she looks at Yunah who's smiling. That beautiful smile, the one she loves to see.

"You're so pretty when you cum, Moka." She says it most sweetly, and her eyes seem so sincere. Moka wants to kiss her more than ever, and she wants Yunah to feel good too, just like she did. But her body feels like jelly and she can barely move. So she can only lay there and try to catch her breath.

Yunah lowers, laying her head on Moka's chest, her ear pressing gently to her heart, as though listening to it. Her body still twitches and shakes and her legs remain spread with Yunah still nestled between them. Moka tries to calm herself, and she can feel Yunah's breathing slow and soften, her weight shifting on top of her.

"I'm sorry, Moka. For ignoring you, but I knew this would happen. I knew that once I gave in, I wouldn't be able to stop," she murmurs. Moka can only manage a hum in reply. She doesn't even understand what Yunah means, not really, she can barely understand her words. Yunah puts her hand on her waist and slips her own pyjama shorts over her hips and down her long legs. She kicks them off and they're left tangled up at the foot of the bed.

It's when Yunah raises her head from Moka's chest that Moka realises what's happening. Yunah slips her fingers into the waistband of her shorts, pulling them down and off of her legs and throwing them aside. Moka feels so exposed. She can't hide the fact she's blushing, that she's so nervous, that this is what she's been waiting for, what she's wanted.

Yunah pulls her own shirt over her head and throws that off the bed too, and now Moka's staring. Tight and toned. Perky. It's like she can't help but let her eyes roam. She's the most perfect girl in the world. Moka's hands reach up to her, running along the curves of Yunah's body, the smoothness of her skin. Her thumbs brush over her nipples, feeling them harden and rise.

Yunah sighs, and Moka wants to make her do that again. She wants to hear all her pretty noises, just like Yunah said she loved hearing hers. So, she sits up and her hands go around Yunah, holding onto her, bringing her closer. She's so tall. Moka's face presses into her chest and she breathes against her, feeling the heat and inhaling the sweet scent of her.

Moka is so nervous. So anxious that she will do something wrong. She has to force herself to lift her head and part her lips, to lean forward and place her mouth over the stiff, little peak on Yunah's breast. She sucks, pulling it in, feeling the way it moves, the way Yunah lets out a breath and the hand that comes up to her hair. Fingers run through her black locks, nails drag along her scalp, and Moka moves her head to the other, repeating the motion, sucking the skin, flicking her tongue over it and pulling it with her lips.

Yunah moans and the grip tightens, she holds her head, and the other arm wraps around Moka. Reassurance in the form of a touch. It tells her she's doing well, that Yunah's liking it. That's all that matters. Moka wants her to like it, she wants to please her, and she wants to know how to make her feel good. She smiles against her smooth skin, placing kisses, licks, and bites all over her. Appreciation for this girl and her beautiful, wonderful body.

Then Moka finds herself lying on her back. Yunah climbs on top of her and Moka's heart thuds hard against her chest. This is everything she's wanted.

"Don't freak out," she whispers, her breath against Moka's face.

"Never."

Yunah shifts her weight and then Moka feels it, the wet heat of Yunah's cunt against hers, and the sensation of her body on hers. Moka looks down at their bodies and can see the point of their connection, where their skin meets. The sight of it alone makes her mouth go dry, her stomach flips, and it takes all her strength to keep herself together. And then Yunah rocks her hips, grinding against Moka, her slick pussy rubbing against Moka's. The sensation of her skin moving, her wetness, it makes Moka's eyes roll back.

"Yunah..." Moka gasps, her body arching, and Yunah pushes her down.

She does it again, and again, sliding against her, pushing her hips hard. Her breathing is growing faster, and heavier, and her moans are so quiet. Sparks ignite in her lower body. The pressure, the heat. It feels so good to have Yunah against her like that.

Yunah leans down and buries her face in the crook of her neck and she kisses and nibbles at her skin there, whispering against the spot. "Why does this feel so good?"

"I don't know," Moka gasps. She's losing her breath already. She's panting and she feels so hot and dizzy, but in the best possible way.

Yunah can't hold back, she can't hide the fact that Moka makes her lose her control. This cute, petite little thing below her; with her innocent, big brown eyes, and her adorable smile, that makes Yunah want to melt, she's her weakness. Moka, who she heard so many times, night after night. Moka, who she's ignored and tried to put from her mind, but can't. And now she has her. She has her little Moka beneath her, squirming and panting and whining, and Yunah's hips can't help but rut down into her.

Yunah can't get enough of it. Moka's pussy feels so soft and warm against her own. The slick mess that grows between them, it's addicting. The sounds are even worse. She wants to make more. She wants Moka to scream.

All the confusion Yunah once felt has vanished, and in its place, a sense of belonging, a feeling that she has to do this. That she's supposed to be in this bed with Moka and no one else. She never understood it. She was scared to admit it. But now there is nothing else she could ever ask for.

Yunah takes Moka's hand, interlocking fingers and squeezing. It's reassuring, and Moka's grip on her hand is strong, it tells Yunah she's feeling the same way.

"Moka."

"Yes," Moka answers.

Yunah looks down at the younger girl. Moka's face is contorted with pleasure, her lips are parted, and she's breathing so hard. She's completely lost to her sensations, and the sight makes Yunah's heart flutter, her skin burns and her body feels weak. "Moka," she whispers again. This time Moka's eyes open, looking straight at her. Their gazes lock and their fingers squeeze. "I like you."

"I like you too." Moka's smile is the most beautiful thing Yunah has ever seen, it triggers an instinct to fuck her harder. Moka's hand snaps to Yunah's hip and holds her tightly. She's moaning louder now. She can't hide it.

The bed creaks, the headboard hitting the wall. The sheets become tangled. They're sweaty and panting, and Moka's moans grow more desperate by the second.

Yunah can't stop herself any longer. Her stomach tenses tight, her body is on the verge of breaking and she can't take much more. "Moka," she calls her name, she's saying it so desperately. "Fuck, I'm going to cum." She can't hold on. Moka feels too good. Everything about this moment is perfect. It feels so right. Yunah can feel her own pussy twitch, she's getting closer to that edge. She can hear Moka whine, she's almost there. She wants Moka to finish. She needs it. "Cum with me."

"I want it, please Yunah. Please make me cum."

Yunah grinds harder. Moka's moans are so pretty. They fill her ears and they're the only sound in the room. They're music, they're the most perfect thing she's ever heard and the best song Moka has ever sung.

Yunah feels Moka's fingers tighten on her hip as she bucks her own up to meet Yunah's thrusts, and the sensation overwhelms them both. They cling to each other, both bodies trembling as the climax washes over them. Moka cries out, and it's loud. She doesn't even try to muffle herself as she squeezes Yunah's hand, and her hips jolt against hers. Yunah's face buries itself in Moka's neck, groaning into the skin, kissing, biting and sucking as the heat consumes her and her mind blanks, the pleasure takes over.

They lay there for what feels like forever, panting, their hearts thumping in their chests, the sound filling their ears.

It's then that Yunah looks up, pulling her head away. She looks down at Moka. Moka, her Moka, staring back up at her with her big eyes. The most gorgeous girl she's ever met. Her skin is so smooth and flawless. Her little nose, her cute lips, and the black, messy hair splayed on the pillow behind her, framing her face like a painting.

"Moka."

"Yunah."

Yunah leans down, pressing their foreheads together and Moka smiles, she can feel it against her face. Their breaths mingle and their hearts are so close, and Moka is holding onto her.

"I shouldn't have," Yunah pants, "shouldn't have lied to myself. Shouldn't have tried to ignore this."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not okay." She can feel Moka's lips brushing against hers. They're so close. It's just a little movement to close the distance between them, but Moka does it. She pushes her head up, and then Yunah's lips part. She kisses her and Yunah can't help but kiss her back, her tongue slipping into her mouth. Their tongues swirl and slide. Moka moans against her lips. The sound sends shivers down her spine. And Yunah wants her. She wants her so bad.

Moka is panting when Yunah breaks the kiss.

"It's okay now," Moka whispers, her breath ghosting over her. Yunah feels so weak. She's completely helpless.

"I think we need to talk about some stuff. But not now, not right now."

"No, not now," Moka replies with a giggle, leaning up and stealing another kiss.

Yunah gives her a lazy smile, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. She rolls onto her back, lying next to Moka, their legs still half-tangled. They lie in a comfortable silence. It feels so natural and normal as if it were always supposed to happen, that they were always meant to end up here. Yunah turns and looks at her, watching Moka stare at the ceiling.

"Is it weird that I want to do it again?" Yunah asks.

"Probably," Moka answers. She looks at her, grinning, "But so do I."

Thirty minutes later and Yunah finds herself mounted over Moka's face.

She's on her knees, straddling the girl, and the tip of her tongue is tracing patterns against her cunt. She's writing out love letters with her tongue. Signs her name on her clit and makes her legs shake.

Yunah braces, flat-palmed against the wall and throws her head back as she cries out Moka's name, grinding her pussy against the tongue. Sensitive and overused, yet still she wants this. She has to. It's not an option at this point. She's going to ride her until she can't possibly take anymore.

There's no coming back from this. There is only this, them, this room. The whole world has fallen away. It doesn't matter.

Moka is all that matters.

The warm tongue pushes past her lips and sinks into the soft heat, tasting her from the inside. She's moaning into Yunah's cunt, sending the most beautiful vibrations against her and Yunah is so fucking sensitive. Her thighs are shaking and she feels weak, she's struggling to hold herself up, but she can't bring herself to get off her.

"Your tongue, fuck," Yunah moans. The wet tongue laps at the mess, licking up her slick. Yunah can feel Moka swallowing, gulping her down, her little noises growing louder as she feasts. She's going to cum all over that pretty face. She's going to ruin Moka's perfect features and make them shine. Yunah is so close. She can't stop herself from thrusting forward. Her pussy is aching for more, throbbing as Moka eats her. She needs this, wants this.

"Moka... I can't stop, please don't stop," Yunah pants, pushing herself back onto her. Moka grips Yunah's thighs and digs her nails into them. "Fuck!" Yunah squeals. Her hips jerk forward. It's happening. It's too much. Moka's tongue won't stop, it swirls inside of her, and Yunah's legs are trembling.

Her thighs close tight around Moka's face, trapping it between her legs and her back arches, her mouth open, her voice hoarse and broken as she cums, and the walls inside of her clench tight.

And Moka is still eating her out. Yunah can feel the hot mess dripping from her pussy. She feels so sensitive. She can barely stand it, and her body twitches and spasms, and her heart pounds so hard. Her mind blanks. She's so tired, her body aching and exhausted, but her pussy still wants more.

"Yunah," Moka calls to her, patting her thigh and bringing her back from the brink of collapse, "Yunah, I can't breathe." Her little, muffled pleas have her snapping back to reality, realising that Moka's face has gone bright red. Yunah shifts, and she watches the way the girl gasps for air.

"Fuck, Moka." Yunah climbs from her and collapses beside her, chest heaving, sweat coating her skin. "Are you alright?"

Moka doesn't respond at first. She lays there, taking a breath and then she's turning, moving and climbing onto Yunah. "More than alright."

Yunah smiles at her, a sleepy smile that makes Moka blush, and she reaches up to push her black hair from her eyes. Her pretty little eyes are half-lidded and glazed, and her cheeks are rosy and flushed. Lips wet, with Yunah's arousal, it might be the hottest thing she's ever seen. "You're so pretty."

Moka giggles, a bashful laugh as she looks away. "Stop it."

"No," Yunah whispers with a smirk that she knows Moka likes. "I won't."

She flips Moka over and the girl lands with a yelp, a surprised and adorable little sound. She takes her liberties, to kiss and to bite, to suck her skin. Yunah is marking her. Deep kisses on her neck, bites that make Moka's body flinch and writhe, and her little noises are like the prettiest melody in the world. "So pretty," she repeats. "All mine."

Yunah moves down her body, her kisses trailing and leaving little bruises. She sucks her nipples into her mouth, swirling her tongue, sucking and nibbling on the stiff peak and making Moka's body buck up. Her mouth goes to the underside of her breasts, to the flat expanse of her stomach. She sinks her teeth in and Moka is whining. Her back is arched, her head pushed back and she's gripping the sheets, and Yunah is getting closer and closer to her destination. "My pretty girl," she murmurs into the smooth skin.

"Yunah," Moka whines and Yunah looks up, finding her staring, biting her lip. Her eyes are wide and desperate, pleading.

She lifts Moka's leg and kisses the back of her thigh. The younger girl is so sensitive. Her skin shivers as Yunah's mouth moves closer to her core. "Once we're home, Moka, I want to fuck you. Like really fuck you, hard, fast. I've seen those videos. What you watch when you're on your own." Moka squeals and her face goes crimson. She covers her head with a pillow. Yunah can't help the smile as she continues, "I want to do those things with you. One of those strap-ons. You'll look so pretty taking it."

Yunah kisses the girl's clit and Moka's entire body flinches. A hand shoots to Yunah's hair and grabs tight, holding onto the locks. She smiles against her, teasing her pussy, her mouth kissing and sucking on the lips of her cunt. "You can do anything you want to me," Moka gasps. Yunah can't help the laugh that slips out, a laugh of amusement and happiness, and Moka is squirming.

"You're gonna have to be more specific than that." Yunah kisses the mess from her lips, and Moka lets out the cutest, most frustrated noise, her hips lifting and her back arching.

"You can use me."

Yunah stops for a second. She raises her head and finds Moka looking at her. There is a blush to her cheeks and she looks embarrassed, and maybe even a little shy, but that glint in her eye is undeniable.

Yunah lowers herself, pressing a soft kiss to Moka's inner thigh. She takes her time, making a show of it, and Moka's breathing is getting heavier, more impatient. "Yeah?" She kisses her again. "Let me bend you over?" Another kiss. "Hold your face down on the bed while I fuck you?"

"Please," Moka whines, "Yes, yes."

"What else?" Yunah's eyes flick up. Moka's chest is rising, falling, rising.

Moka whines again. She throws her head back. Her body trembles. Yunah kisses her cunt. It's a deep kiss. It has Moka's hips bucking against her lips. "You can be rough with me," she finally manages, her voice breathy.

"Rough?" Yunah's eyebrow arches. She dips her tongue past the wet entrance and laps at Moka's heat. The girl's body is writhing against her mouth and Yunah can't help the muffled giggle. She's so cute like this, so easy to tease. Moka is panting. Her face is contorted in a desperate need for more, for release.

"If you want to," she mumbles, and Yunah is so tempted to tease her further. But Yunah is just as eager. She is so desperate for more of her taste, her body, her scent.

"Maybe," she whispers against the wet lips, "maybe, I'd rather be soft with you." Yunah sinks two fingers into her tight, wet hole. Moka gasps, and then moans. Yunah's mouth latches to the little nub of her clit, sucking it and swirling her tongue. The fingers thrust into her and curl. The walls tighten and tremble. "Take my time, fuck you slowly."

Yunah starts a slow rhythm with her fingers. Moka is whimpering, moaning and trying to buck into the fingers. But Yunah is stronger. Her free hand grabs the younger girl's thigh and forces her down, keeping her still and making her accept the pace.

"Slowly," Yunah repeats, "So slow you'll think it's torture. And I won't let you cum, not for a long time, until you can't bear it anymore." She kisses the skin, kisses her pussy, and then looks at Moka who's staring. She's flushed, her eyes wide and needy, her lips parted, and her body is trembling. "Until your little body is begging for release." She pushes another finger into Moka. She can feel the tightness around her digits and the way she throbs.

"Oh fuck," Moka moans.

"Or maybe I'll fuck you hard and fast." Yunah pushes down hard on Moka's thigh, and the pace picks up, the fingers slamming in and out. The lewd, wet sounds that Moka makes are enough to drive her crazy, the sloppy, messy sounds that come with every thrust and the sight of Moka's pussy, spread wide, stretched and accepting everything she's given, it has Yunah's head spinning. She feels delirious, high off of the pleasure she can give this pretty girl. "Hard, fast. Pound your pussy and make your entire body ache. Make you scream, make you beg me to stop because you can't handle anymore."

Moka's throat strains, and her body tenses. "I can't," Moka moans and Yunah can feel her pussy twitching, clenching around the digits inside of her. So easily does she cum against Yunah's fingers, and she's crying out, loud, without restraint. She doesn't even try to hold it back, and she's so wet. Her cum is leaking out, soaking her fingers, and it's the hottest thing Yunah has ever seen. She can't take her eyes away. She can't look anywhere but the way that Moka is cumming against her fingers.

She curls her fingers a little more and moves a little faster. The flow of cum becomes stronger, and Yunah can't stop the groan that leaves her. "Fuck." Moka's body is thrashing, she's whining and whimpering, and then it sprays a little, her cum, squirting from her and soaking her hand, her arm, the sheets. It leaks and sprays, it's the hottest thing she's ever seen, and Moka's body is spasming. Her hips are bucking and the moans sound so pretty.

And then Moka goes limp, she collapses onto the mattress and pants. She's staring up at the ceiling and her body is still trembling and shaking. Cum still leaking out and staining the sheets. All she sees are stars; pretty, beautiful stars.

"I'll never get tired of seeing you do that," Yunah murmurs as she pulls her soaked hand away.

"Shut up." Moka giggles and pulls her hands to her face. She covers her blushing face. "It's so embarrassing," she mumbles into her palms.

Yunah laughs, climbing from between her legs and lying next to her. Moka turns, lying on her side. "It's not," she whispers, "it's hot." Yunah runs her hand up Moka's bare thigh. Her hand slides to her ass and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Really hot."

#illit smut #Moka smut #Yunah smut #male reader #female reader #smut #f reader #m reader #kpop fanfic #Yunah x Moka #Moka x Yunah

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miyaz6ki · 2 days ago

Text

i might let you make me juno ✰

synopsis. literally the title, each are just small drabbles though :)! 1 kink i think they would have, as well as something they'd dislike(?), idrk what I'll put since I make these before I write 😭

the blade has spoken. i forgot to post yesterday :sob: rb for pt 2 ORR FOR MORE OF MY SUPER DUPER SICK CONTENT!!

pairings. albedo, alhaitham, capitano, childe, wriothesley, diluc, neuvillette

warnings. NSFW, mdni please!! sex :pensive:, although some are fluffier than others!, lwk hatefucking in alhaitham's (academic rivals to lovers), corruption kink (capitano's), vision play w diluc (not rly my main point), cockwarming,

albedo, who already has you placed right in front of him, legs spread as he kneels before you. although he glanced at the beauty in front of him, his eyes would tell a million words, the ones he couldn't speak. in general, whatever you were into, so was he.

the alchemist, delving his tongue into real delicacy for the first time, had himself on a chokehold, every now and then gazing back up to the figure he loved the most, pleasured by what he was doing. fuck he loved you so much. the taste had him hypnotized, he could probably do this forever.

every minute that passed, he felt himself falling in love over and over again. holding your thighs closer to the sides of his face, he could feel how much pleasure he gave.

alhaitham, who has you pinned to the wall, your chest pressed up against the surface. he held both your wrists in one of his hands, and the other on the left side of your waist. rocking his hips into yours, archons he was so fucking in love with the way you clenched against his member.

as much as he hates you, or says he does, it's really the opposite. he's never met anyone who could get him as mad as he is right now, not anyone could piss him off. he loved it so damn much.

he loved watching your eyes roll back in pleasure, no one else could get him boiling, but no one could ever be this deep inside you like he does, right? he better be. or he'll spend the next nights trying to prove himself right to you. so at least for once he'll win.

capitano loved to absolutely break you. corrupt you. he wanted to make sure you were indefinitely all his. and no one else's. he loved seeing those cute little tears of yours roll down your cheeks, whining about how you can't take it when both of you know you can!

you're all his, right? hopefully, and rightfully so, because no one as big as him would ever please your little hole now. but he supposes that something should make up for the pain you feel whenever he enters, it should be the pleasure, and somewhat comfort he can attempt to give.

so he lets you pick whatever position you wanted, and honestly, his favorite while letting you choose was whatever position he could see you the most in. especially when it includes your pretty little face. he wants to see how good he makes you feel <3

he always has his hands on you it feels so dirty. but childe has no excuse for himself, his only purpose is to make sure others know how to fuck off from what's only supposed to be his, it's not your fault, nor his, but he just has the indefinite need to show you off. whether it'd be how the marks all over your collarbone would be the prettiest!

he knows it hurts, but for now, just endure it, and he'll make sure to take care of it later. he makes sure to kiss it all away anyway, no matter how deep inside he might be, you're his reason to fight, his reason to live and come back home for another day with you.

oh well, he dreams of starting a nice little family with you. coming home to you and your two.. maybe three children? you'll both figure it out later. after he finishes inside you, his rough hands, which bruised your hips with small, little crescents ingrained into your skin. oh he's already planning the names!

wriothesley is generally turned on by any position he could see you in. similarly to capitano, but the thing is... he much prefers seeing how his cock imprints itself in your stomach.

sure your expressions are pretty cute, but nothing better than seeing you throw your head back, trying to ride his big member when you know you need help from him! all you have to do is say please...

if you didn't, he'd simply watch the show. watch you trying to take him all at once, and only hurting yourself more by trying to take what you can't (without his assistance). and in which he simply.. takes control himself, and helps you slowly sink onto his shaft instead. of course whole holding your hand!

diluc who uses his vision to his advantage, his hands already over your chest, as the temperature of his palm rises slowly, while letting you cockwarm him.

whether it's while he's writing, and signing away paperwork for the wine business, and his other hand over one of your nipples, or if all his attention is focused on you, watching how you react with a VIP seat, which would be taken literally as you sat on his dick.

a teasing touch from one of his fingers would rub against the spot where his cock was snug inside you, infused with a bit of warmth with the help of his vision.

neuvillette who's instincts get to him, as he watches your reaction through the pristine, crystal mirror in front of you both. it was a gift from his daughter figure—furina.

dear archons, please do forgive him for using her gift in such a.. filthy way, but nothing gets him going like seeing you stare at yourself be pleasured so well by none other than himself. his head fitting in the crook of your neck as he only turns himself on more, only reaching even deeper with his shaft inside you.

and wow he couldn't even wait for the main course tonight, for someone who's very knowledgeable on the taste of water from every region—he much preferred whatever substances you could make.

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sturnlace · 22 hours ago

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just one more - matt sturniolo

saying goodnight should be easy, but matt makes it impossible—especially when he keeps asking for just one more kiss. fluff, excessive kissing, playful teasing, soft and clingy matt

it starts with one kiss.

soft, slow, and lingering, like he’s trying to make it last forever. his hands rest gently on your waist, fingers barely pressing into the fabric of your (his) hoodie, warm against your skin. he hums contentedly as his lips move lazily against yours, not in any rush, like he has all the time in the world.

when he finally pulls back, you take a second to catch your breath, eyes fluttering open to find him already watching you with that familiar, love-struck look in his eyes.

you’re both already in bed, tangled together beneath the blankets, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the lamp on your nightstand. it’s late, and exhaustion is settling into your bones, making your limbs feel heavy and warm.

"i’m tired," you murmur, resting a hand on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your fingertips.

matt doesn’t move.

instead, he leans back in, his nose brushing against yours as he presses another kiss to your lips, then another, and another. each one is softer than the last, like he’s memorizing the way you feel, the way you taste, the way your lips part so easily for him every time.

"just one more," he whispers between kisses.

you let out a small laugh, pulling back just enough to look at him properly. "you said that twenty kisses ago."

he grins, unapologetic. "okay, but i mean it this time."

you arch an eyebrow, unconvinced. "do you?"

he hesitates for a second, his lips twitching like he’s fighting back a smile. "no," he admits, then kisses you again before you can call him out for it.

you try to act annoyed, but it’s hard when he’s kissing you like this, so soft and sweet, like he never wants to stop. his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you even closer, and you melt into him like you always do.

"matt," you sigh against his lips. "i’m really sleepy."

"mm, i know," he mumbles, but he doesn’t let go. instead, he trails his lips along your jaw, down to the curve of your neck, pressing feather-light kisses against your skin. "just… one more."

you shiver at the feeling, your hands instinctively gripping the fabric of his hoodie. "you’re ridiculous."

"you love it," he says, voice muffled as he buries his face against your shoulder.

you roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. "maybe."

he smiles against your skin, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. his hands slide up your sides, his thumbs brushing gentle circles against your ribs. "so… one more?"

"matt," you groan, trying to sound stern, but your resolve is already crumbling.

he tilts his head, giving you the softest, most pleading look. "please?"

and how are you supposed to say no to that?

you sigh, feigning exasperation. "fine. but after that, we’re going to sleep."

"yeah, yeah," he mumbles, already leaning in.

except one more turns into two. then three. then four.

because matt is impossible. and you love it.

but at some point, exhaustion starts to creep in. you feel it in the way your eyelids grow heavier, in the way your body relaxes more against him, in the way your head naturally tilts into the crook of his neck. matt notices immediately, his hands stilling on your waist as he glances down at you.

"tired?" he asks softly, his voice quieter now, gentler.

you nod, your words slurring slightly as you mumble, "you wore me out with all your 'just one more' kisses."

he chuckles, pressing a final, lingering kiss to your temple. "sorry, baby."

"no, you’re not," you say sleepily.

he grins, adjusting his hold on you. "okay, maybe not. but you still love me."

"unfortunately," you tease, but the warmth in your voice gives you away.

he hums, pulling the blanket up over both of you before wrapping his arms around you again. his body is warm, solid, comforting, and the steady rhythm of his breathing is already lulling you to sleep.

"goodnight, baby," he whispers, pressing one last kiss to your forehead.

you hum softly in response, too tired to say anything else.

and just before sleep fully takes over, you feel him press one last kiss to your shoulder.

because he really is impossible.

and you really, really love it.

#── .✦ sturnlace #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x yn #matt sturniolo x reader

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saintvainglorious · 2 days ago

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Fics I Enjoyed in February - DC Comics Fic Rec List Part 3

To the shock of precisely no one, I'm still in DC Comics hell. Enjoy the fruits of my labor (reading so so many fics)

Here's fic recs Part 1 and Part 2!

Individualized Education Plan by @cowboysorceror & @deadchannelradio (General Audiences, 7k, 2024) Dick goes to Damian's parent-teacher conference. Damian endures the consequences of Dick being an extraordinarily attractive man. Left me wheezing on my bus ride to work, this fic is hysterical.

“Richard,” he says, in tones of the deeply suffering, “this place is a hostile environment. I must be collected post-haste, as after this latest indignity I am dropping out. Come at once, or I may die here.”

In Service by @smilebackwards (Teen & Up, 13k, 2023) Bruce refuses to let Tim be Robin. Tim, still determined to help, asks Alfred to let him train to be Bruce's next butler. I could not stop squeeing as I read this, deeply wholesome and great worldbuilding to boot.

Tim rings the doorbell of Wayne Manor for the third time in as many days, and for the third time, Mr. Pennyworth opens the heavy oak door. He looks tired and careworn and Tim knows for certain that he’s choosing the right thing now. Mr. Wayne isn’t going to let him anywhere near the Robin suit, but maybe Tim doesn’t need it. There’s another tack he can try.

this year's love by @flybynightwing (Teen & Up, 20k, 2023) A thoughtful and tender exploration of how Dick and Kory might get back together post-Infinite Crisis, featuring Tim being a little troll, Dick & Kory having So Many Issues to work through, and Donna not getting paid enough to deal with this.

Dick and Kory get back together while on vacation. It goes beautifully. If only vacations could last forever.

descartes by @deadchannelradio (Teen & Up, 5k, 2024) Jason finds out how weird Slade acts towards Dick. Yet another fic by deadchannelradio that had me cackling out loud.

“I’m going to kill him,” Jason decides aloud. “Next time I see that man, I’m gonna kill him.” “No, Jason, do not,” Dick says in the same tone Jason uses to tell his dog not to chew on his boots.

The Threat by @jackhawksmoor (General Audiences, 2k, 2022) Damian has some pointed opinions about the way Bruce treats Dick. A gripping Damian POV fic - I love a Damian who expresses how much he cares by via emotional manipulation, and Bruce's reaction is equally tantalizing.

"What are you talking about?" His father sounded puzzled. He had that tone in his voice that Damian always hated to hear. That careless, American tone. His father had never needed to earn his place in a family, so the idea that someone could take it away from him if he wasn’t worthy of it hadn't even occurred to him. Not yet.

A Talon After My Own Heart by @wildsofmarch (Teen & Up, 13k, 2022) A surprisingly well-adjusted Talon!Dick goes on a mission for Slade. I rec the whole How to Train Your Talon series, but this one's my personal favorite. They're so damaged your honor it's great.

There’s a Talon lying on his floor, guzzling his good whisky, when Slade walks into his safe house in San Francisco. “What are you doing here?” he says as he draws his sidearm and slides the safety off. Robin — Dick, he reminds himself — showing up unannounced is never a good thing. “Relax. I’m not here to kill anyone,” says Dick.

Leap, Fall, Fly by @malcyon (Explicit, 15k, 2019) Post-Red Robin, Tim and Kon go on patrol together, and then they go home. This fic is 100% my headcanon for how Tim and Kon would get together if they didn't start dating while Tim was Robin. Gorgeous, peak, no notes.

He tries to use his voice, “You have one of my shirts?” Tim looks at him, amused. “Dude. I have, like, four.” Kon figures some stuff out. Tim helps.

Putting both hands over my mouth, I can only hope nothing's gonna come out by @hmslusitania (Teen & Up, 26k, 2024) Tim and Jon (now both in their 20s due to Jon's canon aging-up) pretend to date. Kon and Damian proceed to lose their minds. Funny, angsty, and ultimately really heartwarming.

“How unethical would it be to let him keep thinking we’re dating just to try and figure out what the hell is wrong with him?” “On a scale from ‘this is completely hinged behaviour and not weird at all’ to ‘cloning him unsuccessfully ninety-nine times’?” Tim nods. “I don’t know,” Jon says. He thinks about it. “Probably like a four.”

Shoulders by @bluegarners (General Audiences, 4k, 2024) Robin!Dick has a close call on patrol. Bruce is catastrophically bad at expressing love. I rotate Bruce's choices and dialogue from this fic around in my mind like a rotisserie chicken.

It’s as he’s assessing Goon #1’s shoulders that he hears it. Grhk. The sound of someone choking. (You are ten-years-old, and the world is wide open before you. You don't yet know how to worry for yourself. It is your father's job.)

Truth Serum is The Worst by @jackhawksmoor (General Audiences, 3k, 2022) Bruce is truth serum-ed and is very unwell about it. Nightwing!Dick is there to help. Bruce's stream-of-consciousness dialogue (and Dick's reactions) are totally engrossing; the love they have for each other looms large here.

Batman gets dosed with a truth serum and unexpectedly spends most of the time talking about how desperately he loves his children, how awesome they are, and how he wishes he was better at being a father.

i'll grab my light (and go with you) by @havenesc (General Audiences, 3k, 2024) Dick helps Robin!Jason after the kid gets into a fight at school. Sweet, spot-on-characterization for both of them.

“Come again?” “I…” Now, the tone is sullen, even in hesitation. “I got into a fight.” Dick glances at his far wall, still a little sleep-hazed as he puzzles together what exactly about a scrap requires a phone call. “With Bruce?” Dick asks tentatively. “At school,” Jason clarifies, and oh, yep, there’s the difference. That one’s a no-no.

the only people on a stranded boat by @unicorncoalition (Mature, 5k, 2023) It turns out that Dick will call Jason if he ever has to hide a body. I've reread this fic multiple times since first discovering it, it's a gem. The scenario is unhinged, the emotions are raw, and the dialogue is perfect.

When Dick contacts Jason in the early hours of the morning to ask for help, Jason is so thrown by the request that he drops everything and drives to Bludhaven. He is not expecting to find Dick dissociating next to the dead body of an unfamiliar man, nor is he ready for the revelations that follow.

i never noticed the clouds gather round (oh, how fast we fall, how slow we drown) by @this-world-of-beautiful-monsters (Teen & Up, 5k, 2022) Batman!Dick has a flashback, and Damian makes a deduction. I'm very picky with stories on Dick's family members finding out about Nightwing #93, and this one handles how Damian might react so flawlessly it hurts.

It's raining on a rooftop in Gotham and Batman isn't getting up. (Dick dissociates after a bad patrol and Damian comes up against the outline of something his mentor never wanted him to see.)

the higher fidelity by birdsofthesoul (Teen & Up, 3k, 2020) Bruce and Dick go on a road trip scavenger hunt to find a runaway Damian. Dick indirectly confronts Bruce with his questionable parenting decisions. The conversation they share in the diner lives rent free in my mind.

Bruce goes sheet-white, looking like Dick’s just cut him to the quick, and Dick can’t help but think they should have booked a flight, discretion be damned. This — this is why they don’t do road trips. Cars are like confessionals, cramped spaces built for coercing confessions, and neither of them are good with words.

O'er These Mountains I Would Fly by @lurkinglurkerwholurks (General Audiences, 2k, 2019) After saving an injured baby bird, Dick and Damian drive out to a wildlife rehabilitation center. A wonderful edition to the "Damian slowly learning to trust Dick early on in the Batman!Dick era" genre.

“Nervous?” Grayson asked. They had been driving for over half an hour, and this was only Grayson’s fifth attempt at conversation. It had been an unusually quiet ride.

and the shapes that you drew may change beneath a different light by @popsunner (Teen & Up, 5k, 2020) Post-Dick's death, Tim tries to be a brother to Damian. Featuring Tim's grieving headspace, his evolving relationship with his brothers, and his enduring status as the Emotional Support batkid.

Damian is around a lot more since Dick died, hovering like he’s looking for something that isn’t here anymore. It’s alright. Tim is used to playing the part of ghosts. Or: Dick is dead. Things change.

#fic recs #fanfiction #dc comics #batfamily #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #kon el #timkon

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fizzyapplecandy · 1 day ago

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The one where you fall in love with a pirate

Hyung line X fem reader

Genres and warnings: short imagines, fluff, mature language, humor, so many kisses

Word count: 4k

I've been on a roll with our hyung line, and I can't stop thinking about a pirate au. Maknae line will be out shortly.

Lots of love, and happy reading X

Hongjoong

Your relationship with the Captain has always been a bit strained. He wasn't too fond of a female crewmate, but his fellow pirates adored you. He, for the life of him, couldn't understand why. Women weren't meant to be out on the sea, and you'd proved his point many times. You were constantly sea sick, the rocking causing your nausea. You hated getting wet, which happened a lot on a pirate ship. You also hated how out of touch you were with the world all the time.

Sure, you cooked for them. You even payed attention to all of their preferences, always making a variety of dishes. You kept the deck pristine, and the boys now had clean clothes, sewn together where needed, always neatly stacked in their cupboards.

Wooyoung pleaded with him to take you in, stating how cruel the townspeople were towards you. Your father was a gambler, and people were after you to pay his debts.

To this day, Hongjoong doesn't know what came over him to say yes. Maybe it was the terror written so clearly on your face, or the bruises visible on your arms. Or the fact that you were... Pretty. Soft spoken, well mannered, and a much needed addition to their ship.

He would never admit it out loud.

One night, he couldn't sleep, so he went out on the deck to get some fresh air. He was surprised to see you there, sitting on a barrel in your nightgown. The flimsy material wasn't enough to keep you warm, he thought. Nights in the open sea could get extremely cold.

Without much thought, he took off his coat and placed it over your shoulders.

You weren't aware of his presence until he did so, and it startled you for a second.

"Oh, Captain! You don't need to do that, you'll freeze!" You were about to take it off and give it back, but Hongjoong stopped you, placing his warm hands over your cold ones.

"No need. I can handle it. You on the other hand..."

He took in your red cheeks and pale lips, your whole body shivering, teeth almost clicking together.

You chuckled and wrapped the coat tighter around yourself.

"You're right. Silly me, I was in such a rush..." You stopped suddenly, turning your head away.

Hongjoong leaned on one of the pillars, gaze fixed on you.

"In a rush? Care to explain?"

You swallowed, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. Hongjoong was intimidating, and you experienced first hand why the called him the 'Sea Monster' in your town. However, the amount of care he put into his crew, the sheer worry on his face whenever one of them wasn't okay... It told you much more about the stoic Captain than he liked to show.

"Well... I kind of... Have nightmares. They aren't that bad anymore. I think being on this ship with all of you helps." You glanced at him, noticing how he hasn't moved an inch, paying attention to your words.

"Sometimes I need to feel present. I need to know that it was just a dream. So the cold kind of... It lets me know I'm here, and I'm safe."

You stood up and turned towards him fully.

"Does that sound weird?"

There was a pause between you. No words were said, but your eyes never left eachother.

"No, it doesn't sound weird. But getting hypothermia isn't the best solution, you know?"

Did he just joke around with you? That's a first. Before you could help it, a giggle left your mouth. You quickly covered it with your hand, eyes widening.

"Am I amusing you, Miss Y/N?"

Hongjoong's tone was relaxed, and you felt like he was almost mocking you, but not in a bad way.

"Ah, no, no! Sorry! It's just... I haven't talked to you like this... Ever. So, you know..." You trailed off, not knowing what to say.

The Captain made his way over to you, now inches apart. He took in every little detail of your face, as if he finally gave himself permission to indulge in his curiosity towards you.

"We talk. You just don't listen to me. Maybe you find me boring compared to the others?"

You flailed your arms around, shaking your head.

"Of course not! You're not boring! I mean, your the Captain! You always tell these amazing stories, and you're so kind towards everyone, even though you don't like to admit it. You... You saved my life that day, and I'm forever in your debt."

Hongjoong didn't know what came over him. One moment he was watching how your chest rose and fell after your energetic exclamation, and in the other, his hands were on your cheeks, lips firmly planted against yours.

You made a noise of surprise, not expecting the kiss, but you certainly didn't mind. In your head, it kind of happened differently, but now that you were wrapped in each others embrace, you wouldn't want it any other way.

There was no saying who pulled away first, but you were both breathing heavily, and your giggles filled the air again.

"Oh my Captain... That was..."

"Yeah... I... Y/N..."

You shushed him, grabbing his cheeks between your palms, placing another sweet kiss on his lips.

That night, in the warmth of his embrace, you were rooted in the moment, and it was the best one in your life so far.

Hongjoong just had to make sure the next one would be even better.

Seonghwa

Of course he had the task of keeping the princess occupied. He figured they'd make Yeosang do it, but he would have probably freaked you out with his staring.

Seonghwa watched as you shifted in your seat, back straight, hands crossed in your lap. You were the epitome of royalty, and you stood out like a sore thumb in the dingy old room on their ship.

For someone who's just been kidnapped and held at ransome, you seemed pretty calm.

"How much money did you ask for?"

Seonghwa's eyebrows furrowed.

"Excuse me?"

You turned towards him, your stance as perfect as ever.

"Money? You did ask for it in favour of giving me back? Otherwise this would be a ridiculous way of courting me."

The pirate stood flabbergasted. A smile was about to make it's way on your face, but you managed to control your emotions.

"Well..." He started, voice a bit unsure. "Our Captain does the deals, but I assume you're worth a pretty penny."

You nodded, and he thought you'd go back to being poised, but you managed to surprise him again.

You shot up from your seat, startling the poor man. The crown you wore was ripped from your head, and you placed it in front of Seonghwa.

"Here, this is worth more than a pretty penny. Go give it to your captain, and ask him if he needs a maid or a cook on this ship."

"What?"

Seonghwa watched the woman, noticing how her expression hasn't changed. She was dead serious about this.

"You heard me. I'm sick and tired of living like Rapunzel! You probably don't know who that is, but nevermind. I want to sail around the world, go on adventures, you know? I don't want to marry a prince, and I cannot stand being in dresses like this anymore!"

Seonghwa didn't know whether to be scared or turned on by you. You were a strong willed woman, and you weren't backing down. For some reason, he couldn't help but feel intrigued. Maybe keeping you with them wouldn't be such a bad idea?

He stood up from his seat and grabbed the crown from the table. Without another glance towards you, he went to the door.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Oh come on! You literally don't let me do anything fun around here!"

"Yeah, well, that's because you get into trouble more than I anticipated. Now let go!"

You and Seognhwa were playing tug of war with your favorite bag. The boys went out into town to gather supplies for your next trip, and you wanted to go with them. Seonghwa was stuck babysitting you again, and he wouldn't let you leave.

"Please! Do you hate me? Do you not want to see me happy! Come on Hwa!"

It's been about three months since you ran away with them, leaving your castle and princess status behind. Seonghwa asked you from time to time if you regret your decision, but the answer was always a strong 'No'.

"Princess, I've about had it with you! Can you please just let go and sit still for once!"

Now, that wasn't the tone of voice he usually used with you. He was accustomed to your antics, and he let you do whatever you wanted, but he never once sounded as serious about saying no as now.

You slowly loosened your grip on the strap, and you could tell something was wrong with him.

"Hwa? Hey, I won't go. See? Here's the bag, take it. I'll stay on the ship."

He only nodded before turning around and marching to the other end of the deck. You quickly followed after him, trying to look at his face, but he wouldn't turn your way.

"Seonghwa? I know I'm a bit tough to deal with, but something's up with you. Wanna tell me before we start a guessing game?"

His hands gripped the railing tightly, and he tried to calm down enough to look at you. Seonghwa knew his fear was a bit irrational, but it wouldn't go away. He also knew he had to tell you before you started freaking out.

So, he took a deep breath and turned to look into your eyes.

"Listen. I know you love it here. I know you love the boys, the ship, the food Wooyoung makes, the strange animals San sometimes brings aboard... But what if..." His gaze fell to the floor.

"What if, one day, you venture out into the city and realise you miss it? What if you want to go back?"

Seonghwa paused, noticing how quiet you were. As if sensing his unease, you came closer and took his hands in yours.

"Go on." You whispered.

"I can't let you go, Y/N. I... You've made me so happy. Even though you give me constant headaches, I wouldn't want it any other way."

"Oh Seonghwa..."

Before he could tell you to let him down easily, he was surprised with your lips pressed onto his. He quickly gathered himself, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, getting lost into the passionate kiss between you.

You pulled away first, and he was about to chase after you, not wanting it to be over, but you placed a finger on his lips.

"I just want to say... I will never leave you. Yes, I love exploring the city, but I've found my home now."

You leaned your forehead onto his.

"You are my home, Seognhwa."

After that, he let you wander off as much as you wanted, because he knew you'd always come back to him.

Yunho

"Hey! Get back here you son of a bitch!"

Yunho never ran so fast in his life before. His legs were about to give out, but thank goodness the dock was close.

You see, he may or may not have gotten into a slight altercation with a merchant.

The man wanted Yunho to pay for the compass, whereas Yunho... Well... Didn't.

Now, he was in a chasing match with said merchant, as well as three of his friends. They were surprisingly slow, and he thought he was in the clear until he bumped into something.

Or more precisely, someone.

The basket you held flew up in the air, and it was raining apples all around.

"I think he went that way boss!" The men were coming closer, and Yunho cursed from his position on the floor. You on the other hand dusted off your skirt before kicking the man in the leg.

"Hey, I'd say you have about five seconds before they catch you, so why don't you hide in my shop?"

His eyes widened, and he quickly got up and followed after you. You ushered him behind the counter and motioned for him to stay quiet.

There was noise outside, and the door of your shop opened.

"Hello there Miss Y/N. You didn't happen to see a mongrel with long legs running around?"

Yunho glanced at you from his crouched position, and you seemed casual enough.

"No, I can't say that I have. Sorry gentlemen."

They grumbled, but soon enough, the shop was enveloped in silence. You glanced outside, seeing them going back where they came from.

"All clear now big boy. You can come out."

Yunho poked his head up, and you chuckled. The tall man gave you a youthful vibe, and the smile on his face made you stop in your tracks.

"That was a close one. Thank you, little lady. I'm sorry about your apples."

You waved him off while he curiously looked around your bookshop.

"Wow, quite a collection. Are you the owner?"

"My father is. I just help around when I can. Now..." You stepped closer to him, examining his handsome features.

"What did you do? That was one hell of a chase."

Yunho laughed, but he stopped abruptly to check his pockets. He let out a sigh of relief as he took the small compass out. He extended his hand and held it over to you.

"Oh, wow. Did you steal it?" You watched as he nodded, expression almost sheepish.

"I didn't bring any money with me, and I know my Captain wouldn't let me go back for it because we're in a hurry, so..."

He trailed off, but you got his point.

"Ahh... I see. Well, in that case you might want to hurry to your ship before Mister Jung finds you."

His eyes widened and he rushed past you towards the door. You were almost sad to see him go.

"Thank you, again. I wish you all the best!"

He was out before you could reply, but you followed after him to watch as he ran down the street, an apple from your basket in his hand as well.

"What a silly boy..."

It's been about a month since your encounter with the gentle giant, as you called him. You couldn't stop thinking about his handsome face, and it made you sad every time. You figured he was a pirate by the way he dressed, and he only confirmed it when he mentioned his ship.

Your father always knew you were a free spirit, and he was sad you chose to stay in the city and spend your days in the bookstore. He knew you felt uneasy about leaving him, but he couldn't convince you to change your mind. That is, until he found a young man curiously peeking through the shop window.

The tall man came inside, and he could sense his nervousness in the air.

"Hello there... Is... Is the little lady somewhere around here?"

Your father smiled. "Oh, my daughter. She went out to get us some fruit. You're welcome to wait inside."

Yunho nodded, and went over to one of the shelves to browse. It didn't take long for you to return, and you almost dropped the basket of pears you were holding.

"Oh..."

Yunho turned towards you, a big smile spreading across his face.

"Hey there! Long time no see!"

You glanced at your father, and he nodded slightly before smirking. After that, he stood up and went to the back to give you some privacy.

"Yeah, long time... What are you doing here?"

You placed the pears on the counter, offering one to... Well you didn't know his name.

"Well, I... I had to go and settle my debt with Mister Jung. I also..."

He took the fruit from your hand, fingers brushing yours. You looked into each other's eyes, unconsciously coming closer.

"I had to see you again. I know it might sound crazy, but I can't stop thinking about you, little lady."

Yunho leaned in slightly, his voice almost a whisper.

"What's your name? I need to know the name of the girl of my dreams. Mine's Yunho."

"I'm Y/N." You managed to mumble, eyes still fixated on his.

"Say, you two, why don't you go back to our house and start packing Y/N's bags?"

You let out a startled noise, and turned around to look at your father. He was standing behind the counter, a wide smile gracing his features.

"Dad? What..."

"Yunho, I assume you're here to ask my daughter to come with you, is that right? I know how you pirates get."

Yunho stood frozen, surprised at how easily her dad got him figured out. He was right, he did come to ask Y/N to travel with him. His life was on the sea, has been for a long time, but she... She was something he felt was missing.

"I can really go?" You went towards your father, not believing what was happening.

He gently placed his arms around you in a hug, whispering into your ear.

"You were never meant to love a mundane life, my sweetie. Go now, before I become too sentimental."

It wasn't long after that your bags were packed and you were waving at your father from Yunho's ship. As the town you grew up in got smaller, your eyes filled with tears.

A pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, and a kiss was placed on top of your head.

"Everything okay little lady?"

You turned around in Yunho's embrace, placing your hands on his chest. Without much thought, you got on your tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on his lips. He stood frozen for a moment before his arms tightened around you, deepening the kiss.

When you finally broke apart, you placed your head above his heart, listening to the steady beats.

"Everything is perfect."

Yeosang

Yeosang loved being a pirate. He loved the freedom he had, the laughs he shared with his shipmates, who he now viewed as brothers. He loved everything about his life. Apart from the times they had to wreak havoc in a random town.

They tried to bring justice where they could. Once they found out about groups doing harm on the townspeople, they intervened in no time.

Tonight wasn't any different from their usual agenda, if he excluded you.

They were seated in one of the more problematic bars in town. Hongjoong told them the job was simple - Get in, take out the bad guys, get out. There was one man, Han Sehun, and he was known for intimidating the lower class people into giving him their well earned salaries, as well as harassing women.

That's where you came into the picture. You were working the night shift at the bar tonight, and you hated it every time. Sehun was adamant on making your life hell, but you couldn't complain because you needed the job. Your parents were long gone, and there wasn't anyone in town you were close with.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't notice the handsome men making an entrance. You could tell there was something different about them.

One in particular caught your eyes the most. He had a blonde mullet, and he seemed like the calmest of them all. As if he could sense your eyes on him, he turned his head, but you managed to look away in time.

"Yeosang, stop staring at the pretty lady. You'll scare her." Wooyoung chuckled after pinching Yeosang's cheek.

He swatted his hand away.

"I'm not staring."

Wooyoung smirked. "Sure you aren't."

Without another word, Wooyoung stood up and went over to you. He smiled at you, showing you eight fingers and motioning to their table. You nodded, giving him a thumbs up.

Yeosang was nervous all of the sudden. He knew they were on a mission, so what was Wooyoung doing.

"Relax, Sangie. The pretty lady will bring us some drinks in a second."

Hongjoong pinched his nose.

"Now is not the time for drinking, or staring at girls. Get it together."

Wooyoung held his hands up, and Yeosang remained still. That is, until you came to their table holding a tray with eight beers.

"Here you go boys. Enjoy!"

His mind must be playing tricks on him, because it seemed like your eyes only met his before you went back to the counter.

Before he could dwell on it, Sehun started causing a scene at the bar.

"Oh come on Y/N, when will you give it up? You know I can show you a good time."

"For the last time, please leave me alone."

"Still trying to act tough? Just wait until I fuck the attitude right out of you!"

Yeosang had the sudden urge to march over an fuck up his face, but Hongjoong's glare kept him at bay. They had to wait for the perfect timing, otherwise they would cause a ruckus.

The night went on like this with Sehun's comments getting even worse. Yeosang felt immense relief when he saw Hongjoong nodd, and the plan went into action.

Soon enough, the bar was turned over upside-down. Sehun was in handcuffs, and you were hiding under your counter. The officers would be here any moment, and the boys had to run.

Yeosang glanced at his crewmates as they went down an alley, his chest tightening.

"I have to do something quickly. Meet you at the ship."

"Yeosang!" Their voices were now faded into the background as he re-entered the place they wrecked.

"Hello? Miss?"

You slowly lifted your head from your hiding place, glancing at the handsome man from earlier. You should have known they were pirates, his outfit basically screamed it in your face.

"H-Hi?"

He turned his head towards your voice, a small smile gracing his features.

"There you are. Come out, I won't hurt you."

For some reason, you believed him. After all, they managed to take away your town's biggest problem.

You carefully got up, and he could tell your dress was ripped in some places. Probably got caught in one of the broken tables.

"What do you want?" You asked, voice trembling.

He approached you, paying attention to your body language. You were still apprehensive, but slowly loosening up.

"I'll cut right to the chase. Want to come on a little trip with me?"

It's been about a month since you took Yeosang up on his offer. You weren't sure what came over you to say yes so quickly, but you felt like he was trustworthy.

Honestly, you didn't have much left in the town, and you felt like you weren't leaving anyone behind. You only gained another family, a bit rowdy, but definitely lovely and supportive.

You also gained something else along the way, and you hoped Yeosang was feeling the same.

"Hey there treasure. What's got your head in the clouds?"

His voice brought you out of your daydream, and you could feel him beside you, gripping the railing. The sea was calmer than usual, giving you a sense of peace.

"Oh, nothing much. Just thinking about you."

Yeosang let out a startled noise.

"M-Me?"

You turned to look at him, noticing the slight blush on his cheeks.

"Yeah, you. I don't think I ever thanked you properly for taking me away from my miserable life."

Yeosang stayed silent, observing your expression. You looked... Happy.

"So, forgive me if I'm reading this wrong, but I just can't hold it in."

Before he could get a word in, you placed a kiss on his cheek, lightly catching his lips. It took him off guard, but he wanted to make sure you knew the feelings were mutual.

So, as you went to pull away, he grabbed your waist and placed a proper kiss on your lips.

You just looked at each other, smiles stretched out from ear to ear.

"I can't hold it in either."

#ateez #ateez imagines #fluff #imagine #ateez seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #pirate au #ateez pirate au #ateez x female reader #mature language #kisses #short imagine

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wandixx · 3 days ago

Text

Count the freckles, connect them like the stars part 1, Virgo

Summary: Five time Danny found and drew constellations from M'gann's freckles and one time she did that for him

Danny wasn’t quite sure how he went from “visiting Mount Justice to train with the Team” to “half laying on the kitchen island and watching M’gann cook”, but he was glad it happened. He had had rough fight with Skulker the day before, so every opportunity to not move was a salvation. Most likely, rest of the Team left him off the hook exactly because they caught it. They all were cool like that.

He smiled, slowly shifting a little to be more comfortable. He liked watching people doing things they like and know well. There was something mesmerizing about it.

The fact, that he could eat some of whatever she ended up making was a great addition. He was always ravenous when away from an ectoplasm central that was Amity Park.

He followed her hands with his eyes, with chin pillowed on his folded arms. There wasn’t as much she did with them as other people would in kitchen, her telekinesis was certainly a great aid, but there was still enough movement to be transfixed on. Especially today, when something in the back of his mind insisted that there was something unusual about her. She was explaining how she found recipe, on accident when looking for something so different that to this day she wasn’t sure how she ended up with this instead, how it was supposed to be super filling so she hoped they’ll all like it, especially Danny and Wally, because then she could make it somewhat regularly and they could have something more healthy than granola bars. He appreciated sentiment even if he insisted she didn’t have to.

He wondered if there was a polite and not weird way to say he’d eat wet carton if she served it to him.

Small sheet of paper and bullpoint pen landed right in front of him, close enough that he felt air move from them.

“Can you add canned tomatoes to the shopping list? English letters still come out unreadable when I try writing them and do something else”

“Sure”

At this point he stopped trying to explain that being able to write clearly when not looking at the paper was not a skill many people had even if English was only language they could write in. It kept falling on the deaf ears. Apparently it was something Martians just did.

Danny maintained his opinion that if they wanted, Martians could rule whole Solar System. And some nearby star systems. Maybe whole galaxy, in a really distant future.

He straightened up in his seat (ouch, ouch, ouch, his body was not a fan of this move), because unfortunately he needed hands, proper posture and quite a lot of focus to write in a way that would be readable to anyone outside of medical field.

Before he could drop back down, satisfied to just watch world around him without having to interact with it in any way, a freckled hand put a plate of some pasta in front of him. Despite tomatoes, it wasn’t spaghetti, which was neat. He promised Sam to try out vegetarian-Wednesdays and sure, she probably wouldn’t know if he ditched it one time, but still. It was nice that M’gann remembered.

He followed her hand with his eye for a moment longer, not quite ready to let go of whatever seemed to be there. It didn’t look too different from usual. Shade of her skin was the same, her fingers stayed short and slender and her freckles were different, but they never really stayed the same, so it wasn’t that either.

“Quit peeping, start eating” she said cheerily, flicking him on the forehead. He smiled and obediently looked at his meal. Before long though, his eyes flickered back to her. What was different? What was-

There.

“Did you know your freckles look like stars today?”

“They do?”

“Yeah. You have Virgo and Cassiopeia on your right forearm”

“Believe it or not, this tells me nothing. I don’t know Earth names for stars yet”

Right. He was an idiot.

He just barely stopped himself from face planting into his pasta in embarrassment.

“Tell me about them?” she asked quietly, like she wasn’t sure if she could.

Danny took a moment to make sure he heard this question right. Usually people tried to shut him down as soon as he mentioned space because he was prone to getting way too obsessive. It was understandable, it could be endearing when he was younger but now it was just plain annoying. Sam and Tucker sometimes indulged in him, especially after he became halfa, with every interest turned up to eleven, but he could never shake off the feeling that they weren’t really listening at times. He didn’t have anything to prove it, it wasn’t like they were taking out something else to do at the same time or anything, but also… they never asked about anything either. He’d catch himself making some small mistake that they should’ve caught too, mispronounce something they knew or say 19-11 instead of 16-11 when talking about invention of telescope, but there was nothing indicating they heard anything wrong.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t dying to tell her. He just didn’t want to chase her away. M’gann was a good friend.

“Are you sure? I can be pretty annoying about it”

“I want to learn. And you want to tell me”

Danny forgot to breathe for a moment and he wasn’t sure what caused it. M’gann looked at him like a deer in the headlights.

“I’m not reading your mind, at least not intentionally, you’d know if I did,” she stammered out quickly “But ghosts feelings are really loud, it’s hard to ignore that. Like… if everyone else’s mind is like a house with closed door, one of the older ones with brick walls and smaller windows and such, ghosts have greenhouses at best. Usually they’re also shouting whatever is inside that could potentially not be visible at the first glance. It’s hard to ignore. In your human form you’re usually just like a house with bigger windows and more see through curtains, but today you’re unusually loud. I think it’s because you’re healing so your ghost side is a bit closer to the surface”

“Ah. Alright, cool, cool”

“I can try to deliberately ignore you if you want, but it’s hard with how loud you are, and I’m not sure I wouldn’t drown out your verbal speech too. There isn’t much difference from my perspective”

“No, no, no, you don’t have to do anything, I was just surprised. Just maybe… don’t openly say anything about it? Whatever you hear, I’d kinda prefer to forget you can, for now, okay?”

“Sure thing. So, how does the Virgo look like? I like this name better”

Danny smiled and took pen from the grocery list.

“Virgo is one of the biggest constellations on sky in northern hemisphere and it’s best visible in Spring, so we can go try to find it in few weeks, if you want…”

“You’re asking? I’d love to!” she said with wide smile, sounding far too casual for what she just offered to him.

“Yeah? Cool, cool,” he took deep breath to refocus, because his brain was doing weird things again “I think it’ll be better if I show it to you then, with names of the stars and everything. But people like to make stories about stars, just like with any other aspect of the world around them. I can tell you about that?”

“Yeah, yeah, stop asking, start explaining”

"Okay, so it's a constellation from Babylonian and Greek zodiac. It's associated with goddesses, usually. I never remember the name of the Babylonian one, she was really important one though. Like, queen of gods, I think. Then, through Phoenicians, Greeks learned about Babylonian constellations and decided to adopt it, but they couldn't agree on which goddess should be in reflected in Virgo. So, some said it was Demeter, Goddess of Harvest and all that plant stuff. Others decided it was Cora or Persephone, she had two names, Demeter's daughter, and Godless of Spring and queen of the Underworld, which kinda makes sense, since according to myths, she was more or less trapped in Underworld throughout autumn and winter, and then returned to her mother and happiness of their meeting is what kick-starts the spring. It connects nicely with the fact that Virgo actually gets visible at the start of the Spring but Sun passes through it in autumn, though I'm not sure if some of that isn't caused by slight shift that happens over the course of the years... which is not what I was supposed to talk about sorry"

Feather-light fingers brushed against his hair. He leaned into it with slight smile.

"It's fine. Talk about what gets on your mind, I’m happy to listen," M'gann said gently "So, there were these two possible goddesses who could be represented by this Virgo constellation"

He gently grasped the hand that had this constellation on it, and put a pen down at the first freckle. He haven’t really thought about it, but it felt like the right thing to do.

"Actually, there is third one,” he whispered, suddenly feeling like anything louder would be wrong “She is my favorite for the story, though I don't quite know why. It's probably mostly that Demeter and Persephone have their other times to shine and i just don't see them in stars," line was made connecting two freckles -two stars- as if it was astronomical guide. The thin tipped pen needed a bit of pressure before it left the mark behind. M'gann skin dipped under it more than he realized it should "Her name is Astrea, Goddess of Justice and Innocence. She was one of the titans, so before the gods, though specifics aren't really important. She, unlike both titans and gods, lived among humans. Others preferred mountain tops, respectively Othrys and Olympus-"

"Oh! It's the name that humans gave to that volcano on M'arzz, isn't it?" M'gann asked, sounding delighted to connect information he was giving her to something familiar. Danny didn't raise his head from where he was marking her skin. He didn't know why this felt wrong either. There was something almost sacred in it though.

"Yeah. Since it's the biggest mountain in Solar System, so we named it after mythical home of gods"

"That's nice"

For a moment, they sat in silence, interrupted only by slow breaths and humming of the fridge.

"So, Astrea lived among humans. How did she end up among stars?"

"She was one of the Titans, and back when they reigned, it was a mythical Golden Age. Humanity was pure and innocent and only needed what nature provided us, without having to put in any work. There was no change in seasons, so they didn't even have to worry about scarcity of resources in winter" he lightly went over lines he drew between Spica and Porrima so he could continue on his journey down to Syrma and other stars. He didn’t really raise his pen above M’gann’s skin, just eased it away slightly, so it wouldn’t write for a moment “It was a paradise. But then the gods came and overthrown most titans because of feud that isn't really relevant here. This war was called Tytanomachy and was so destructive that it wiped out all of humans. They were remade later, but slightly worse, slightly less pure. Also, seasons became the thing, so they had to develop agriculture and architecture. They were no longer perfect, but still innocent and righteous enough for Astrea to stay. But with time came Bronze and Iron Ages, with weapons and money and wars and impiety, and people became greedy and cruel and unjust and just against everything she really stood for. So she ascended to heavens, and became constellation of Virgo. But she is said to return at the end of times and bring new Golden Age with her"

“It’s… really pretty story. I like how despite this narrative of living in the worst of times, times so bad that even goddess couldn’t handle, there is little bit of hope for return of the paradise”

"Humanity has a lot of hope in it... And also a lot of «grass is greener on the other side» syndrome, with assuming that times before were better and easier, simply because we don't know about problems people faced back then. Just fill in blanks in a way that fits us"

"I mean, this is similar to a way I decided to escape to Earth, and I'm not complaining"

He finished of last line.

"Neither am I. Nor any other person on the Team. And everyone you saved. Are you, perhaps aspect of Astrea walking around us to see if it's right time to return?" he asked, before he realized how stupid and mortifying this idea was. For a moment, they just looked at each other, with this weirdly intimate tension between them, that almost made him consider the chances of his stupid joke having some merit to it before-

M’gann laughed, bright and loud. Danny joined her, but quickly stopped when overtired muscles reminded him why exactly it was a bad idea.

"Shut up and eat your pasta, you dork. It won’t be any good if it’s cold"

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #danny fenton x m'gann m'orzz #danny fenton/m'gann m'orzz #I like (and need) them soft like cotton candy; okay?!#I was so excited to share it that I almost gave you all version with all of the [Polish word because I forgot it in English at the moment]#hope you'll like it as much as I do #this is the story i mentioned and came up with on Valentines #one of these days I'll actually write the whole story about them that isn't just fluff with chocolate sprinkles of potential angst #but today is not that day #count the freckles; connect them like stars #wandixx writes #have a nice day dear stranger who got to this part

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saikira999 · 1 day ago

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Amos is an underwater monster of the Thalassaphagos species, resembling a cecaelia (an octopus mermaid) but with several differences: larger size, tolerance for prolonged stay on land, a second toothy mouth instead of a beak, and the presence of seven tentacles, one of which serves as his "tail."

However, unlike his kind, Amos is covered in dozens of eyes, indicating that he has been infected by the "Knowledge" disease, which sets him apart from his underdeveloped tribe, where the average thalassaphagos only cares about eating delicious food, producing a mountain of offspring, and preferably not dying. For his awareness and predisposition to magic, Amos was cast out from the tribe and is now seeking wisdom on land.

Amos is a quiet and thoughtful young thalassaphagos. He is intelligent, but often, his animal nature takes over, and Amos becomes incredibly dangerous and uncontrollable, a perpetually hungry savage. Initially, he has rather weak moral principles and can easily trow them aside if he deems it necessary. But this will change in the future when he begins to better understand the concept of compassion and kindness (though this won’t stop him from biting someone's hand off if he gets hungry).

Story:

The thalassaphagos tribe has never been known for its desire for knowledge. On the contrary, intelligence and intellect were always frowned upon, and the legend of an ancient chief who once led their people to greatness was cited as an example. Thanks to this chief, the thalassaphagos cast aside their beastly habits and began to develop culture and science. Their empire flourished and prospered year after year.

But one day, the chief became prideful and desired forbidden knowledge, which angered the Gods of wisdom, and they destroyed the once-great empire, returning its people to the times of savagery, while the great chief vanished.

Now, the wrath of the gods still haunts the thalassaphagos in the form of a disease that spreads across the body as dozens of eyes, signifying forbidden knowledge. And Amos became that unlucky guy.

Being a creature that is wild yet quite curious (to the point of being uncomfortably TOO curious), he travels the land, wishing to prove to his people the importance of wisdom and to restore their once-lost greatness.

Perhaps one day he will succeed, and after many years of wandering, Amos will return to his homeland, determined to become a new leader and rebuild the empire from scratch. Year after year, wound after wound, along with prosperity and strength will come the thirst for power and greed characteristic of his kind. Beings like him live long, which means that soon the underwater ruins where they hid will turn into magnificent new structures, savagery and old rituals will fade away. And this will continue until at some point, Amos looks in the mirror...

...And in response, the ancient chief from the legends will look back at him.

The gods who cursed the thalassaphagos did not just erase their empire but also trapped the ancient chief in an eternal loop – a mad cycle that serves as punishment for his pride and greed. And now, each time, with each new fall of the empire and its chief, the people forget their history, sincerely believing that it happened to their long-ago ancestors, unaware that they themselves were pawns of the gods, and their fallen chief will soon be reborn to start the cycle again.

...Of course, only if he does not decide to break the vicious circle and kill the Gods of wisdom.

Old concept art :P

(I decided to make him a character for dnd)

Dead Knight: "Stay out of it, you moron."

Amos: GGGGRGGRGRGRG AAWRAGAG SBARRARRAT BARK BARK BARK GGRRRERRRARARREARARREARARAR!!!!!

#art #мой арт #artists on tumblr #dnd art #dnd #dnd character #oc #character #monster #monster boy #tentacles #my baby boy #he is so dork #i can't....😭😭😭#reblog me #please

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night-night-stories-before-bed · 2 days ago

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The window is always open

Warning ⚠️; None, just fluff and fatherhood

Pairing; None, Damian Wayne & Gn!Vigilante!Reader (Father figure$

Summary; You always leave your window open in case one the batkids would need to come in for emergencies. Yet, Damian use it all the time.

Credit @cafekitsune

Note; my doctor scare the living shit out of me, so I wrote this to calm me down.

Note 2; I’m dying, wtf was that bug? Why did a part of a draft updates here??? I am so sorry y'all! I do not know how that happened honestly 😂

You stood in front of your door, hand on the doorknob, knowing something was amiss. You frowned and listened attentively. You heard a soft sound, like little footsteps, from your kitchen which made you relax as you knew who it was. You unlocked the door and got inside, taking off your coat and boots.

- “Damian, I thought we spoke about it already. The window is open but only for emergencies and I doubt stealing my take-out fall in that category,” you gently scolded as you entered your kitchen.

You switched the lights on and crossed your arms staring at the teen as he hate your take-out. Damian stared back at you, not giving a single fuck.

- “Nah, but avoiding an angry Bruce,” Damian replied and you sighed.

- “What did you do this time?” You asked, leaning your shoulder against the wall.

Damian rolled his eyes and offered you no reply. You sighed and went to make you some food, giving some to the kid to decide whether or not to tell you why he ended up running away from his father. But Damian said nothing as long as you cooked, not even as you sat down.

You ate in silence, eyeing Damian up and down. No bruised, no injuries and no signs of him being hurt. So why was Bruce angry after his son? At some points the sound of a notification caught your attention and you knew who it was before looking at it. Bruce was asking you if Damian was at your place and you reassured him that he was and to not come, that Damian was sleeping here.

The bat left you on read.

Yeah, that wasn't good.

- “Bruce ain't coming to get me, right?” Damian asked with a small voice and you shook your head.

- “Nah, I told him to not come and that you were sleeping at my place tonight. I’ll take you to school in the morning, don’t worry,” you reassured Damian and he nodded at that.

You two finished eating in silence and cleaned the dishes before you sat back down and helped Damian with his homework. Not that he needed help but he did need the company you realized and you couldn't bear the silence anymore. So, homework it was.

You were glad to be out of school, the new subjects seemingly more boring than they were in your time, and somewhat harder. Maybe it was the wording, you thought.

Before you realize it, they were done and you allowed Damian to watch the TV with you for a while. You knew he wouldn't sleep anyway, so where was the harm?

The teen picked a series you ignored all about and, just for you, played it from the start. You enjoyed listening to Damian explaining what was going on when things confused you, the series was clearly one of his favourite subjects and you wondered if he had no one to talk with about it. It wasn't long before Damian ended up snuggling against your side, tucked under his blanket, slowly dozing off. You wrapped an arm around his frail shoulders and he sighed.

- “We got into an altercation, with Bruce I mean, and it’s my fault,” Damian ended up admitting as he yawned. “I think he want to send me back to my mother.”

- “Oh, Damian, don’t be say that. Your father love you very deeply, he just sat on a stick and never got it out,” you replied, passing your fingers through his hair. “Besides, you really think I would allow him to send you away like that? He’ll have to fight me before being able to take you to the airport,” you tried to reassure him and Damian snorted.

- “He’ll kick your ass,” he pointed out, sighing and closing his eyes.

- “Bolt of you to assume he’ll win. I too have contingency plans!” you declared with a smile.

Damian chuckled at that and his hand found your shirt. You looked down and watched as he clenched his fist tight on the fabric as if he feared you would disappear. You pulled him closer to you, stroking his shoulder.

- “I promise sweety, Bruce is not going to send you away,” you swore and Damian buried his face against your side.

- “But I… disobeyed. I went out alone without him and I told him I hated him. Why would he keep me?” Damian asked with a little voice and it broke your heart.

- “Damian, your father love you and he heard way worse from Jason, Dick and even Tim. Trust me, his only thoughts must be that you are getting “into that age”, and I bet he wasn't angry, but scared. I would have snapped too knowing you went alone playing vigilante. You know how dangerous Gotham can be,” you scolded him and Damian groaned.

You hoped you understood what you didn't say; Bruce had lost Jason once, the scar hadn't healed even if Jason was back from the dead. It wasn't hard to see he was terrified the same thing would happen to his actual son.

- “C’mon, you’ll see. Tomorrow Bruce would have calmed down and you two can speak. Before long you’ll be laughing about tonight,” you promised and Damian said nothing.

Against you, you felt the teen relax, his body going limp against you and his breath became deeper. You smiled, realizing Damian was succumbing to exhaustion. You pulled his blanket higher, wrapping it correctly around him. You leaned down and kissed his hair, wishing Damian a good night with a smile, knowing he would be fine once morning came.

#male reader #x reader #x male reader #fanfic #reader #writeblr #writers #x gn reader #gn reader #dcu #dc comics #damian wayne

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imjustarandogirl · 2 days ago

Note

Hi, I don't know if it's your kind of thing, but would you write a Lottie Matthews x reader, in s3 with all the mushrooms and everything... I don't have a fully formed idea...anyway thanks

The wind spreads the spores

Pairing: Lottie Matthews x Reader A/n: I hope I didn't make you wait too long for this. I also hope you enjoy what I have written! I also don't know how to write a person who is high lol Word count: 3.9k CW: getting high, but that is implied

Was silence a good thing? You couldn't answer that question for yourself anymore. There was always some noise that invaded your senses in the wilderness. It could have been the chatter of the other girls or the noises of animals. Whatever it was, the noises always seemed to be there. You could be having dinner or trying to fall asleep. It didn't matter what you were; the words persisted. The sounds were wisps against your ears, soft mummers of unrecognizable words. When you attempted to tune yourself into the words, the words became more distorted. These words weren't one of your thoughts. It was like having another voice in the back of your mind. The voice was low and taunting, which you had never heard before. It had come to the point where you would do anything to stop it. You had thought about talking with someone else about it, but you worried you sounded like a lunatic. Who wouldn't think you were crazy if you mentioned hearing voices in the back of your mind? Amid your desperation, there came an idea. Everyone knew Lottie seemed to have some connection to whatever was out here. She held small spiritual connections, trying to help others tune themselves into the world around them. You had seen but never participated in the rituals she held in the winter. It was too crazy for your liking, something that seemed unreal. However, there was a part that was curious about what Lottie knew. Could she talk with the wilderness like she had said? The night she randomly started speaking French, though it was a while ago, it seemed like a sign.

When Javi died, Lottie made it out to be a sign, and now Nat was the “leader”. Though it was far-fetched, you needed some way to get these sounds out of your head. You couldn’t stand the unrecognizable whispers or the feeling of being watched. Now prepared with your reasoning, you decided to take the chance that Lottie knew some way to help you. You stood up and got yourself out of the miniature hut. The hut was a safety netting for you, a place away from the other girls. You scanned your eyes around the clearing of the self-built camp. A few girls were basking in the sun, enjoying their victory of Capture the Bone. Lottie, meanwhile, was staring off into space, a distant look in her eyes. She was sitting on a log in the clearing of the camp. Her hands were neatly folded in her lap, her dark brown hair slightly drifting with the breeze. You slowly approached Lottie, your steps soft and timid. Dangerous wasn’t the word to describe Lottie; she was more influential. That influence made her someone to be wary of. You sat beside Lottie, your hands planted on the bark. You looked up at Lottie, staring into her eyes. As if she snapped out of a trance, Lottie looked over toward you. A small smile wrapped across her features as Lottie looked over to you.

She seemed to enjoy being in the company of another person. “Hey, Lottie,” you greeted, your hand slightly messing with a piece of loose bark. You hadn’t spoken to her alone in a while. You had avoided all the nonsense she had been spouting about the wilderness. “Hello,” Lottie shifted slightly towards your body, “need something?” Your hands continued to fiddle with the edges of the bark before you spoke. The high-pitched whispers and chills that ran along your skin were growing. “I need to ask for a favor from you,” you started, a slight edge to your voice, “I have been hearing things, not the typical animal sounds. I think it might be hunger talking, but I wanted your advice.” When you finished speaking you moved your eyes away from Lottie. You didn't want to admit that, feeling embarrassed at admitting such a thing. There had been worse things to admit, but telling someone you were hearing things was a reason for concern. You knew whatever Lottie would judge you for, if she judged you at all, would be hypocritical. You suddenly felt a warmth against your body. A warmth that had been missing for a long time. You glanced upwards, finding Lottie’s hand against your own. Her hand was coarser than you had thought it would have been like. You accompanied that attribute to how the wilderness had shaped her.

When you found her eyes there was a sharp and twisting feeling that hooked into your stomach. There was more excitement and joy than sympathy in her eyes. She seemed more than happy to hear what was going on with you. “Can you hear it?” Lottie asked, though she didn't say it like a question. It was more like she had made a connection than she had an observation. She interlocked your hands together, her brown eyes still locked on you. “It’s a gift. You need to embrace this, embrace it,” Lottie stood up, dragging you up with her. As much as you enjoyed the warmth of the small connection, you pulled your hand away from Lottie’s grasp. “I don't want to embrace it. I need a way to minimize it, or at least stop hearing things,” your voice slightly restricted when you spoke. You didn't like what you had out here; no one did. Lottie had made it out to be the wilderness wants and desires that it was meant to happen. You didn't want to press the guilt on what you had done on an imaginary entity. Your actions were yours to live with. “Just try it; you wanted my help. I can help you with whatever is going on. Just give it a chance,” Lottie’s smile faltered. She seemed genuine with her words. Your breath hitched, thinking over what could be the harm in trying. The best case was that whatever was going on with you would stop. The worst case was that the whispers and chills didn't stop, and you would keep living with it. Your expression shifted to one of nervousness and hesitation. You let out a small sigh, deciding to go along with whatever Lottie had in mind. You weren't sure she knew how to help, but you asked. You sought her advice, so it only made sense to take what was offered. “Yeah, let's do it,” you returned your gaze to Lottie. You watched as her expression lit up at your words. She took your hand in hers, quickly walking off towards the forest. You two walked further away from the camp and into the woods.

The whispering of the wind was still present, becoming more of a buzzing sound in your ears. Your face slightly scrunched up at the noise as it became more present. The words were still unclear, but you could hear it all. The voice you hadn’t heard before. At this point, you assumed that you were going crazy. Lottie’s wilderness nonsense was not a good enough reason for all this. When she finally let your hand go, you looked at your surroundings. You haven't paid attention to where Lottie had led you, wrapped up in your thoughts to notice. Lottie beamed towards you as she took a seat on the ground. She held a small cup filled with water, a mushroom, and a rock. “So, how is this supposed to help me?” You asked, skepticism laced in your tone. You sat beside her, watching as she placed the mushroom against a rock. “You will be letting in and accepting the wilderness,” Lottie beamed when she spoke. Her smile made you think that it could work. She seemed so confident that whatever she was going to do would help you. “If you are hearing things, you need to embrace it. Let it speak to you; understand what it will tell you,” Lottie continued. Her voice was soothing and melodic. She spoke in a way that made you think she had done this before. She placed the mushroom against a flat rock close by. She then picked up another rock, scrutinizing it. After nodding in approval, Lottie started to crush the mushroom up. You watched as the once intact mushroom crumpled and flattened against the rock. You didn’t know what Lottie intended with the mushroom, but you held some trust in her. Lottie was your friend, a teammate you had known for years. Even with all the nonsense she had been rambling off, you trusted Lottie. After the mushroom was properly smushed up, Lottie took a small scoop and sprinkled it into the water. The bits of the mushroom swirled around, mingling with the water. Lotto seemed proud of her hand's concoction, eagerly handing it over to you. “Lottie,” you muttered, hesitantly taking the drink from her hands, “are you sure this is safe?” Lottie nodded her head, bringing the cup up towards your lips. “It is perfectly fine, trust me. You wanted help; this is what I think is best,” Lottie’s big brown eyes stared into yours. She was waiting, hoping you would take her advice.

You glanced down towards the water, hands slightly shaking. The last time anything happened with mushrooms, it ended in destruction. You weren’t even sure these mushrooms were like that, but you had a feeling they were. You took in a deep inhale, thinking over your options once more. It was either to deal with the nagging voices or start drinking. Even if it was only a temporary solution, it was a fix to your problem. You held the cup up to your mouth, drinking in the water. The feeling of the water left a slight tingle on your tongue. It didn't have much of a flavor to it, but the feeling remained on your tongue.

You looked over to Lottie, watching her soft smile. Her hands were neatly folded in your lap, her eyes never leaving you. She was waiting for the effects, and you were as well. “It is going to be a minute; just relax,” Lottie hummed, taking your hand. You held onto Lottie’s hand tightly, taking in a sharp inhale. The air was cold in your lungs despite the warmer weather. You sat there for a moment, waiting and listening. You felt a tingling sensation run along your body. The feeling wasn't cold, it felt relaxing. Your gaze shifted from Lottie down to your limbs. Goosebumps ran along your arms and legs. You snapped your hand away from Lottie, your eyes growing wider. The world looked more vibrant than it had before. The trees looked greener, and the sky seemed more bright. Your mouth was slightly gapped as you pushed yourself upwards. You stumbled forward, pushing yourself against a tree. Your gaze moved up towards the leaves, watching them away. Your hands are firmly planted against the tree to stabilize yourself. You heard the crunch of the leaves as Lottie stood up behind you. “I feel nothing, yet everything,” you muttered in amazement.

You ran your hand along the trees, feeling the rough exterior. There were no noises, no words, nothing to worry about. All you could hear was Lottie and the sounds of the wind. You turned around, leaning your back up against the tree. A small laugh emitted from your lips as your head tilted. You didn't know where the laugh had come from, but it felt right. You looked at Lottie, a dopey expression spreading across your face. Lottie looked at you, a slight smile turning up her lips. She remained in front of you, watching your reactions. The way she stared at you with such gentleness made your heart flutter. Her dark brown eyes that bore into yours were stunning. You stared helplessly at Lottie, a small laugh emitting from you. Lottie’s smile slightly grew as she moved back towards another tree. She sat down against the ground, back leaning up against a tree. She kept her eyes on you, patting the spot beside her. “Why don't you sit with me?” Lottie asked, her tone soft and smooth. You complied with her request, stumbling towards her. You flopped against the ground, another laugh leaving your lips. “You’re so high,” Lottie smiled towards you, eyes soft and loving. You slightly rolled over towards Lottie, another laugh leaving your lips, “I am so high.” There was a moment of silence when you two stared into each other’s eyes. She looked so pretty in the shade. Her hair looked so soft; you wanted to run a hand through it. “It’s okay to be scared,” Lottie’s voice broke through the silence. Her hand inched slightly towards you. Upon hearing Lottie’s words, your expression dropped somewhat.

You didn't want to be told how to feel. “Not push it all down, y’know?” Lottie continued. You shifted yourself to sit upwards. You let out a small huff at the comment, finding it a little hypocritical. You knew your method of shoving things down wasn't the best, but Lottie had no room to talk. She spoke to the forest like it was a living thing. Your back pressed against the tree's bark, feeling it protrude against your skin. Your fingers guided themselves to the edge of your shorts, clutching the fabric. There were lots of people who had it worse.

All that was happening with you was some weird voices in your ears. "What about Shauna; she has it worse than anyone?" You grumbled, an edge to your voice. Lottie's method of help was a temporary escape from what was going on with you. You didn't want her to go on about what you were feeling. Everyone already had so much to worry about already. Lottie also had her issues, so you didn't see why she was keen on helping others. She spoke about trying to help others, but she didn't want to get herself any help. You assumed her way of dealing with what was going on was the wilderness. To you, that was what made the most logical sense. Lottie wasn't excellent at the primary skills of cooking, hunting, or anything medical-related, but she knew how to influence people. The power of influence had shifted to many people during your time in the wilderness. Lottie's influence wasn't as inherent as it had been, yet it still lingered.

"Pain is not a competition," Lottie spoke out. She paused for a moment as if trying to reclaim her thoughts. Her eyes turned away from you, looking out into the woods. "I did try to talk with her, but we," Lottie stopped herself from speaking again. She seemed to be trying to calculate each other and how it would affect you. It annoyed you how Lottie acted as if her words had some drastic effect on you. You tried to brush off the feeling she was only trying to help you. She was taking her time to make sure you were okay; you wanted to be grateful for that. Lottie was also trying to find some way to keep herself sane, so it wasn't fair to be annoyed at her. "She kind of shut me out. 'Needing a shrink doesn't make you a shrink,' quote unquote," Lottie finished, finally turning her gaze back onto you. Surprise took over you as you listened to Lottie's words. You had never thought a girl like her would need a shrink. Before the crash, Lottie seemed like a normal person. She had a very well-off family and acted like a normal, popular girl. The idea of a girl like her needing a shrink was out of the question. She never showed any signs or was good at hiding it. The way she spoke about it almost without a care concerned you. You moved closer towards Lottie, your body turned towards her. You wanted to reach out and comfort her in some way. The expression on her face held hints of despair. You took a short breath, debating whether to ask her about it. "You had a shrink?" Your voice came out a little curious but held hints of worry.

Lottie turned her head back to face you, her brown eyes staring directly at you. All evidence of sadness seemed to wash away from her expression. The change of emotions on Lottie's face was quick like she had never wanted you to see her like that. "Shrinks. Plural," Lottie corrected. She briefly turned her head down, her arms loosely wrapped around her legs. Her hands slightly fiddled together as silence fell over the both of you. The sounds of the wind filled your ears once more as silence took over. You were now fully sat up, arms resting on your knees. You had never gotten this personal with anyone before the crash or after. It felt weird to be hearing this about Lottie. Yes, you felt terrible for her, but it felt strange. You moved towards Lottie, awkwardly leaning yourself against her. You didn't know how to comfort her in the moment.

Lottie's expression changed again, a solemn frown turning into a grin. "Anyways, this is my therapy session, is it?" Lottie joked. Her attempt at a smile was visible. Feeling awkward, you moved off Lottie, leaning back against the tree. You didn't know what she had been through, so you didn't want to question it. Lottie was helping you with your problem, so it didn't feel right anyway. The confession made you think. Lottie had taken pills before the crash, preventing her from seeing things. Now that she didn't have the pills, the visions started coming back. Even in your current state, the pieces started to come together.

"Then it started happening again without the pills," your comment came out as more of a question. Your eyes flicked between Lottie and the ground. It was beginning to become more awkward as the conversation ran its course. What was supposed to be about the hushed whispers you heard had turned into Lottie's confession about shrinks and pills. "Till it stopped," Lottie sighed. The quiet weight is heavy on both you and Lottie. The voices drove you mad, but at least it filled the silence. Now that it was gone, you had to bear with the uncomfortable stillness. Your body froze, a buzz filling up the empty sound. You looked around, trying to figure out where it was coming from. Your fingers, which sat on your legs, started to dig into your skin. Your confused expression turned into worry as your head continued to look around. The quiet buzz slowly morphed into a soft, shrill bellow. "Lottie," you whispered, your tone shaky, "can you hear that?" You stumbled up to your feet, your body turning around. Your mind was spinning all around, new invasive sounds filling your senses. The noise was nothing like the gentle whispers you heard before. The howl was more invasive, and it was only growing in volume. Your eyes were wide, and your breathing started to grow heavier.

"No, do you hear something?" Lottie shook her head when she spoke. She leaned against her legs, her brown eyes studying your figure. You stumbled forward, the voices only growing louder. What once was a small soft squeal was turning into a sharp cry. Your gaze locked onto a tree, its shape twisting and flickering in your stare. "The trees," You muttered. You had never seen or heard anything like this before. Reality seemed to shift and bend; sounds and visions were a prime example. You stared at the tree, listening to it. The screams were completely screams; it was more like desperate cries. The tree flickered in your vision, wrapping in ways you never thought could happen. My breathing started to grow even more labored at the sound. "The trees are crying," your voice broke. The loud cry swelled in your ears the closer you went to the tree. You wanted the sounds to stop, but you wanted to get closer to the tree. You wanted to feel the pain, understand it. Your body starts to shake and your limbs feel weak. You didn't even register the fact that Lottie had stood up. She was making her way slowly behind you, watching. The sounds of her footsteps were muted by the growing wails of the trees.

You couldn't tell when the cries turned into screams, but it was a quick switch. The screams were pitiful, like that of a small child. "No, no, the trees are screaming," your voice cracked again. You made contact with the bark, feeling the rough exterior against your fingertips. Something you couldn't name that flashes before your eyes. The brief glimpse you caught looks at a towering and ominous figure. The cries then turned to screams that were shrill and deafening. You could feel your heart racing and your mind throbbing. The whispers were long gone, replaced by something you never wanted. The voices were so familiar but too distorted to tell who they were. Your body began to shake further, goosebumps running along your skin. The sound became too much for you, the screams becoming overwhelming. You let out an ear-splitting scream, your breath becoming ragged. Your hands went up to your head, pressing your body against the tree. The rise and fall of your chest was more rapid, and your screams grew louder. The voices and the distorted figures danced in your memory.

You felt Lottie's arms wrapped around your body. Her touch felt suffocating like she would squeeze you until you would pop. "Stop! Stop! It is not real!" Lottie shouted, her voice narrowly reaching your ears. You squirmed under Lottie's grasp, shuttered breaths escaping your lips. You pushed Lottie away, a look of terror in your eyes. Lottie's hands hold on tightly to your arms, trying to ground you to reality. The screams then dimmed in your ears, fading into nothingness. You took in strangled breaths, trying to regain control of yourself. When you managed to look up at Lottie, there was deep concern in her eyes. "You couldn't hear it?" Your hands went to grip Lottie's shoulders. You couldn't understand how Lottie couldn't hear such a thing. She had to have heard it; the sound was horrifying. You heard their screams, the screams of those you knew. Lottie noticed the look of terror in your eye, leading you to the ground. She wrapped her arms around you, her warmth entrapping you. "No, no, I didn't," Lottie muttered, keeping her arms against your back. Her comfort was lost to you, too concerned with what had happened. You have heard the voices that the screams belonged to before. Your stare was blank, fear overtaking your whole body. "You're going to hear it; everyone is going to hear them."

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews x you

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madridfangirl · 2 days ago

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Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fic)

Chapter 20

(Series Link)

Jude * female reader. Mature Language in parts.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

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Love. Oh, what a wonderfully intoxicating feeling it was.

Jude had never been in love before. Having another person so deeply influence your happiness, peace and centre of gravity was an alien feeling at first. But eventually, as the months passed, he got so addicted to the highs that the lows were well worth it. Six months into their relationship, being with her had become second nature to Jude. At times, the attachment scared him too, especially when she wasn’t around and he missed her like hell, but one hug from her was all the balm he needed. Mostly, he was glowing under her love.

Ananya had been in love before. But this felt different - deeper, more passionate, more intense, more consuming. And definitely far higher stakes. The doubts of their complicated situation never really left her, not fully. Especially on some tough nights when their realities came to a head. But Jude had a way of pulling her back to him every single time. All her worries tended to wash away under his smile, his puppy eyes, his constant reassurances, his heartfelt praises and proclamations of love. Even her worst fears were losing to the depth of his feelings. He had well & truly shattered almost all the walls she had built around herself. And made his way into her heart, mind, soul and body. Claiming them all decisively. Making her his, and keeping her as his. And boy had he swept her off her feet.

Roma and Jobe had front row seats to their journey, serving as external voices of reason when they were too drowned in each other to realise what was happening.

‘You’re practically living together now, you see that right?’

‘What? That’s rubbish.’

Ananya dismissed the thought immediately, going back to her Wordle. Roma and her were plopped on her bed, enjoying a lazy Saturday afternoon after ages. Jude was out of town for an away game.

‘Yeah? Let’s see.’

Roma got up from the bed with purpose. Something about her tone & stride making Ananya put her phone down & take notice.

She opened Ananya’s cupboard and pointed at one full cabinet stuffed with Jude’s things.

‘It’s just for convenience, so he doesn’t throw things around the room.’

‘Hmm.’

Roma went to the adjoining washroom, carrying out one basket filled with Jude’s toiletries. It was bigger than Ananya’s.

‘You know how he is. If he doesn’t find the specific product he’d bring the house down or send Agnes scampering for it. Just for conve…’

‘…convenience you say? Sure. I’m guessing your stuff would be in his room too, for convenience?’

‘….yeah.’

‘And that particular brand of sugarless pancake batter in the kitchen, those cereals that taste like mud, all that healthy vegan crap that you & I hate, is there for convenience too?’

Ananya averted her eyes, unsure of what to say. Or feel.

‘When he’s not here, you’re there. If you both are in Madrid and have time on your hands, you’re always joined at the hip. That’s called living together.’

Realisation set in for Ananya, followed by panic. She grabbed Roma’s hand & pulled her to the bed.

‘Is this…wrong?’

Roma’s tone softened immediately, looking at her friend’s state, knowing that the point had hit home.

‘Why should it be wrong? But it’s serious. And intense. And maybe a bit faster than what I would have done. But hey, to each his own yeah? Just want you to be aware that you’re in deep waters now, my friend. And maybe you should talk to Jude about it.’

Ananya nodded aimlessly. The idea of talking to Jude about this was unnerving. The dreaded conversation of where they were and where it was heading and if they were moving too fast. So she put it on the back burner for now, letting things unfold at their own pace.

Similarly, Jobe was amused to see his erstwhile ‘player’ brother turn more & more into what he called a ‘lovesick puppy.’

‘Say what now?’

‘You heard me.’

‘What do you know? You’re practically a child.’

‘I’m 18, bro.’

‘Exactly.’

‘More relationship experience than you. Just saying.’

‘Teenage relationship.’

‘Still counts.’

‘Whatever, you’re wrong.’

‘Yeah? So you didn’t discard last event’s outfit, custom-made by your stylist, just coz your girlfriend didn’t like it?’

‘She’s got taste. Picked me, yeah? So what if I listen to her opinion sometimes?’

‘What happened to having ‘uniquely distinct fashion choices that others are too stupid to understand’? At least that used to be the house line?’

‘She’s not others.’

‘Precisely my point.’

‘You have no point.’

‘Whipped.’

‘Shut up you loon.’

‘So you’re saying keeping the beard was your choice?’

The beard had been a sore point between Jude & Ananya. She liked him in the goatee but when he graduated to a beard she was thrilled. She had never been a fan of facial hair but she claimed that the beard suited Jude so so much. Plus she found it super sexy, which Jude always cashed in when he needed to. When he randomly moved back to the goatee one fine day, she just looked him up & down & didn’t kiss him like she used to. Didn’t wrap her arms around his neck when he kissed her, like she used to. That night, she didn’t deny him his tumble but didn’t doll up for him like she used to. He got the message, without her saying a word. He kept pestering her if she didn’t like it and she said it should be his choice. She shouldn’t have a say here. But he knew it was bullshit. She obviously had a preference and this was a passive aggressive way of showing it. Jude complained that it was discrimination and she was indirectly influencing his choice by using her sexuality. She retorted that she hadn’t denied him in any way that night and he shot back saying that she hadn’t invited him either, like she used to, especially after a difficult away game where he scored the winner. This half-hearted passion was unlike what they were accustomed to. The spark, the heat was not the same, coz she was not the same. And she simply said she couldn’t help it since she was ‘mourning his beard.’ Jude wanted to turn around and call her over-dramatic but decided not to, choosing to play the long game & not get kicked to the couch.

Her reaction to a clean-shaven look was far worse. Jude had to do it for a shoot and she refused to be anywhere near him, saying he looked like a child and she didn’t want any funny business when he had that babyface. She even tried to put a pillow between them when they went to bed, which Jude had to practically wrestle away. No amount of whining, cajoling or begging from him made her budge. That night, Jude realised he was in love with someone who could be as obstinate as him when she wanted to.

In an unfortunate moment, he had shared all this with his useless brother.

‘Never telling you anything else from now on.’

‘Pls you’ll die without babbling to me.’

‘Oh fuck off.’

Jobe ignored that completely.

‘Gonna change the trim too?’

Jude sighed. She didn’t like his hair too finely cut on the sides, said he looked bald under that hat. But net net she loved the overall trim. So he had decided to stand his ground here & keep the sides as is.

‘None of your fucking business.’

‘Gotta give her her flowers though - not a mean thing to have THE JUDE BELLINGHAM wrapped around her little finger.’

‘Should I tell her you said that?’

‘Go ahead. She’s cool & she adores me.’

‘Then why being a dick with me?’

‘Coz it’s fun. And you’re too thick to see it on your own.’

‘Bye now.’

Jude did see what he meant; his brother had used those words just to tease him. And he needed Jobe to show him that mirror at times, like he had done to make Jude realise his feelings for her in the first place. Yes Jude had fallen deep, he could see it well & clear now. But the perks of this phase he was in far outweighed any minor inconveniences. They meant nothing when she smiled & embraced him with so much affection that he could practically feel his heart burst with warmth. Much to his own surprise, he was loving being in love.

However, the relationship had not been a bed of roses, like any other couple.

The pressure of his job was not easy to deal with. Jude & his family still had 4+ years to get used to this limelight & stress, yet even for them Madrid had been astronomically different. Ananya never imagined or wished for such a life, so it was even harder for her.

When the weight of the world was on his shoulders before a big game or a big event in his professional life, she felt the burden too. When all eyes turned on him, trying to tear him apart for some behaviour or the other, or for a red/yellow card (sometimes undeserved), she felt the sting too.

When his injuries took a toll on his body, she felt the pain too. The shoulder & ankle ones had been particularly brutal - he had to miss matches, undergo intrusive treatments and sulk on the couch while his team carried on without him. Finding a balance between understanding his situation & comforting him had been tricky - Jude had flipped out on a few such occasions when she had tried to tell him it was ok. Coz it was anything but that for him. Later, he did apologise (after silent treatments from her) for taking out his frustration on her but she realised this was not sustainable & they had to find a solution.

With time, she was getting a better handle on his moods. When he wanted to be reassured - with comforting words or warm hugs. When he wanted to just be left alone. When it was better for his mother or brother to handle the situation instead. When he just needed company and wanted to sort out his head on his own, while laying on her chest and playing with the hem of her top absentmindedly. When he needed a mindless carnal release, as an outlet for his stress, which she allowed because generally their intimacy wasn’t mindless. He was a complicated man, under severe pressure, so she gave him a fair bit of leeway.

She had also learnt to not offer unsolicited advice on his game too much, which sometimes she was tempted to do as an ardent fan. She might disagree with his brashness or arrogance on the pitch at times but that’s what made him him. Without that earth-shattering confidence, he would not be a galactico at Madrid at 20. So she only shared her POV on these things when he specifically asked her, or when she felt things were going overboard. Jude once told her that’s exactly how Denise treated him as well, though his Mum was probably more gentle in her interventions while Ananya took him to the cleaners at times, saying he needed that.

Jude recognised that she did more in finding this balance between them than he did, and that she could have easily stayed on the sidelines and not be so emotionally invested in his professional highs or lows. But she did it out of love.

He loved her love for football and Madrid. Loved discussing & watching games with her, like he did with his family, teammates & friends from back home. Well, mostly. Sometimes he wished she didn’t understand as much and would be that girlfriend who just fawns over him unconditionally, no matter what he did. ‘Go find yourself a clueless bimbo then’ was her instant response when he joked about it once. Coz she was never going to be that & she made sure he understood that damn well.

Jude had also realised that while he could often take a lot of liberties with her, and she’d let him, but when she drew a firm line it was set it stone. He didn’t tease her or mess with her when she got in such zones or such moods, which were rare but not too rare also.

Work and family were two such no-go areas. She had no sense of humour when it came to those. If she was talking with her folks back home or on a work-call, even late-night, that space was sacrosanct and she did not like any histrionics there. Jude had spent a few nights laying next to her, waiting for her to wrap up work, but sometimes it spilled over & he had to go to bed unfulfilled. She’d feel guilty, offer to work from the living room so it doesn’t disturb him but he’d tell her he’d rather sleep with her next to him than be alone.

Her family still didn’t know about him, barring one cousin, who was quite ambivalent about him being in her sister’s life. So he was absolutely not allowed to yap from behind if she was calling home. Jude didn’t understand why it was so sensitive for her; she was an independent 20 year old adult living far away from home. She had tried to explain how India was culturally different from how Jude had grown up. Her family was not conservative, not by any means, but even then, being in a relationship with a) a non-Indian and b) a high-profile footballer would be a massive shock for them and it needed to be dealt with carefully/gradually.

Another touchy topic for her was anything perceived to be threatening her individuality / independence.

One morning, sprawled on her bed, Jude had half-jokingly cribbed about the dress she had put on, calling it too distracting for work. It wasn’t revealing or anything, that wasn’t her style, but it was well fitted and complimented her figure beautifully. Ananya thought it was aesthetic and Jude just wanted to rip it off. The way she had swirled around and told him he had no business telling her what she was supposed to be wearing, Jude would never forget that look. He had immediately raised both hands in surrender, trying to explain it was a silly joke, but boy she had been pissed that day. It took Jude a while to recover from that fiasco.

Another faux-pas he had walked into was when she took a rare girls night with Roma and a few colleagues from work. The couple had narrowly missed each other a few times that week so Jude was more than disappointed when she told him she was out instead of coming over to his. He had half-expected to see her at his place when he returned late from a shoot; sometimes she surprised him like that.

‘Oh baby, I’ll see you soon, promise.’

She had slurred on the line when he called her, half-drunk.

‘I needed you today. I thought you’d be here today.’

‘I wanted to see you too. But I didn’t know when you were getting done. And we were trying to get together for over a month, tonight was the first time all of us had a window. So came for a movie & now dinner.’

‘But what about us? What about me?’

‘Soon, promise.’

‘Will you come tonight?’

‘Jude, I can’t just take off on my friends like this.’

‘Why the hell not?’

The sheer entitlement & frustration in his voice set her off, like she owed him all her time. Oh the gall of him.

‘I’m not gonna be at your beck and call whenever you need me. I thought you understood that.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard me. I wanted to dress up & let my hair down & dine at a fancy place & not be cooped up in the house for a change.’

That felt like a harsh slap in the face. She could have done all those things with him. He could have taken her to the fanciest of places, anywhere in the world, if only she’d let him.

‘Cooped up in the house yeah? Who’s that because of?’

Her. It was because of her. She didn’t want to go public with him, wasn’t ready for all the drama. Not yet. He knew why. He knew it very well. So she was stunned when he weaponised that & threw it in her face.

‘I’m not your fucking property, Jude. If you wanna act like a child, be my guest. But you better watch your tone when you talk to me.’

She hung up, and Jude stared at the phone, not knowing what hit him. When his anger subsided (took a while) and he revisited the conversation in his head, he grudgingly understood where he had fucked up. She didn’t react like this when he wanted to chill with his teammates or have a boys night with his lads from back home. So he really didn’t have a leg to stand on here. Plus he could have done better with his tone. But he missed her. He just missed her like hell.

All night, her phone kept buzzing with messages, and she knew who it was from but she didn’t spare it a look, not for a few hours.

‘Sorry.’

‘Missing you.’

‘Didn’t mean it like that.’

‘Talk to me for a min? Just wanna hear your voice.’

‘Pls don’t be mad.’

‘Love you.’

‘Ping me once?’

She let him suffer that night, before going back to his place the next day. They made up, like they always did, tangled in the sheets. And Jude learnt a very important lesson - she would give him the sun & the moon if he appealed to her love for him, if he asks nicely. Respect, chivalry and understanding were the keys to unlock her, not confrontation or domination. Well, domination worked sometimes too, but she needed to be in the zone for it.

And they found that zone quite often. Intimacy and passion was at the heart of their relationship.

Jude loved exploring with her. Pushing her boundaries bit by bit. Breaking down her walls gradually but decisively. Uncovering layers to their intimacy. Cataloguing all the breathless sounds she made for him. The way her eyes rolled back in their socket as she writhed under him. Every little twitch of her face, the frenzied moves of her body. Her total and absolute surrender to him was intoxicating - like a rare, potent, lethally erotic drug. Every time he had her, it spurred him on to have more. He just couldn’t get enough of her.

He was also a shameless flirt, which he never denied or shied away from. Always checking her out, never in dearth of lines to use.

‘Thinking of those tiny blue shorts that flaunt your ass.’

‘Get some rest now. Gonna binge on your minge when I get home.’

She was used to these messages out of nowhere, and him invading her personal space without any prior warning.

Ananya was shocked to discover how much she wanted him too. The thrill she felt every time he touched her. How he had mapped all her sensitive spots & played them like a fiddle. The way his beard tickled & teased her skin. She could read his intent well now - through his deeply expressive eyes, the way his voice turned huskier when he was in the mood, how his hands wandered on her body or slipped under her clothes, how his lips lingered on her skin for a few extra seconds, his his breath grazed her neck, and sometimes even by the tone of his texts. She could tell if it was going to be a long & slow kinda night or a rough, rapid, intense bout where she’d need to hide the marks next day. Much to her surprise, she looked forward to both. Jude had introduced her to the latter. Initially she was hesitant, wanting to do it for him. But now, she welcomed him making her body his playground. Using his height & strength advantage to toss her around. Having her hands pinned over her head or behind her. Being on her hands & knees. Bent over the counter. Tied to the headboard. Pressed up against a wall. Thrown over his shoulder. Being bounced manically as he took her standing, without any support, using his ridiculous arm strength, while she clung to him for dear life. In this territory, she didn’t mind his aggression & control. And while she couldn’t match up to his impossible stamina or voracious appetite, she did meet him half way.

She liked dressing up for him too - a section of her closet reserved for such occasions. And that section only grew larger, some by her doing and a lot by his. But it kept depleting also, ripped & torn off fervently, depending on his restraint or lack of it.

Jude was used to taking the lead in bed, and he relished it. But he could also now tell when she was in the zone, trying to seduce him subtly. The way she leaned into his side. How she pressed her front into his chest or back, letting him feel her curves. How she batted her lashes at him, while wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a soft, deep kiss, moaning into his mouth. How she sat into his lap, moving in a way that was sure to get him excited. How she bit her lip, while moving her hands over his body, feeling his muscles. How her neckline was extra deep some nights, giving him a plump view of her cleavage. How much his sweaty glistening skin, from matches or workouts, turned her on. In most cases, he took the cue & took her up on her offer. But sometimes, he liked to hear her say it out loud. On those nights, he tormented her slowly, playing with her, keeping her on the edge till she screams it out. Only then he’d relent & smile victoriously, burying himself in her warm, inviting heat & rocking them to ecstasy.

He loved branding her with his marks, and enjoyed her efforts the following morning to cover them up thoroughly.

‘Why bother so much?’

‘Anyone would.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Any decent person would.’

Jude never cared when her nail marks on his back / biceps were visible during training or in the locker room. He just laughed them off when other folks teased him. Most of his teammates were like that, barring a few shy ones like Arda. Special teasing was reserved for the shy ones.

The winter clothes were a big help to her, for now.

‘What will you do in the summer?’

‘Discipline you.’

‘Good luck with that.’

Jude was spontaneous, but he liked the anticipation of planned trysts too. As did she. Especially during role-plays (another aspect she was shocked to discover that she loved).

His favourite such night was Valentine’s Day. Jude had pulled out all the stops that night to make it special - dressing in the black turtleneck that she was crazy about, decorating the living room (with red heart-shaped balloons but hey, he tried), ordering her favourite ravioli from a high-end Michelin star restaurant and a bottle of some very fine red wine which he knew she’d enjoy. Those were his gifts for her. As his gift, he wanted to see her in Indian attire. More specifically as an Indian new bride. Since he had seen that photo of her in a sari, this had been an open demand from him, and Valentine's Day seemed like the perfect occasion for it.

When she came down the stairs, dressed in a sleeveless v-neck cream blouse, red chiffon saree, open brown hair sliding down her back, cream heels, golden jewellery (bangles, choker necklace, earrings) and a fucking waist chain, Jude felt like he had died and gone to heaven. He stood frozen, unable to take his eyes off of her as she glided in front of him, waving her soft hands to get his attention.

Dinner was long forgotten. Every fucking thing faded in the background. His world revolved around this sorceress who had just made his brain short-circuit.

‘Earth to Jude, are you there?’

‘Naa he’s dead. You killed him. Mercilessly.’

Jude took her hand and twirled her slowly, taking in the full 360* view. She obliged playfully, flipping her hair for effect, as his eyes roamed over her form & the way that sinful garment hugged her at all the right places, accentuating her curves, particularly that round behind. His hands rested on her bare waist while her henna-painted ones went to his shoulders. Jude loved the smell of it, inhaling deeply.

‘Some things are different?’

‘Yeah. I couldn’t put the sindoor and mangalsutra - only married women can wear that.’

‘Not even for one night?’

‘No, it’s inauspicious.’

‘The bangles are different too?’

‘Yeah. The ones you saw are called chooda. Again, only a married woman wears that, for a few weeks after the wedding.’

‘Hmmm.’

‘You don’t like it like this?’

Jude looked at her like she had suddenly grown horns, thoroughly shocked at the comment, and she got her answer. Next second, she felt his large hand cupping her butt, pulling her close, moving slightly against her to let the bulge do the talking.

She glanced at the food longingly, then looked into his hungrier eyes, and relented. Without wasting any time, Jude picked her up and carried her bridal style up the stairs. He had considered the couch but tonight he needed the bed to properly enjoy her. Her sari was first to go, followed by her petticoat, panties & jewellery, only the waist chain stayed on (he was fascinated with it), along with her anklets.

Removing the sari was quite an experience. He pulled at it with force, spinning her around with ease as the garment slid off her body. While she tried to slow him down wherever it was held together with pins. She would have giggled at it, if he didn’t look like he wanted to eat her alive then & there.

Ananya shuddered on the bed underneath him as he licked down her face, lapping at her ruby painted lips, dipping into her mouth briefly for a quick taste, trailing down her neck into her cleavage, while pulling apart the threads holding her blouse together. There was silence tonight, only the sounds of their heavy breathing & her soft gaps cutting through the tension, along with Jude’s intermittent grunts.

He pulled at the waist chain with his teeth, inserting his tongue into her bellybutton and she nearly leapt off the bed, moaning his name wildly, his weight on top serving as her anchor. Jude was struggling to rein in his lust, and that served as the final straw. Pinning her hands on either side of her, he entered her fully in two precise thrusts, making her head spin and her toes curl.

‘J-Jude..’

‘Shhhhh.’

What followed was the most unhinged she had ever seen him. He was painfully hard already, so he went straight for her secret spot, hitting it repeatedly to get her pleasure to build rapidly, matching his own state, while his mouth devoured her sensitive peaks. Sucking with such fervour as if willing them to lactate. When she shut her eyes at the sensations, he bit the underside of her boob, a silent command to not hide from him. Gasping, she locked eyes with him, mouthing a silent ‘easy, jaan’ as he slid his teeth to her hardened nubs, tugging at them.

Jude was gone tonight. The bed creaked violently under them. It was an overwhelming intensity, so much that she could almost feel him in her throat. Ananya struggled under his hold to release her wrists. The more she struggled, the tighter his grip got, sure to leave bruises. She squirmed in vain as he continued his two-pronged assault, via his mouth & nether regions, taking her closer & closer to the edge. She willed her body to comply, knowing that he won’t let go before she did, and came screaming his name with a pointed, decisive stroke, shuddering uncontrollably underneath him. He didn’t relent, keeping up his pace through it, chasing his own high but it was too much & she had to use the safe word.

Jude paused, let go of her wrists, slowly returning to his senses. Still buried inside, he crawled up her spent form, caressing her face with the back of his fingers till she finally opened her eyes.

‘Hey.’

She just blinked at him. Jude lifted her palm, kissing the bruised wrist, trailing his lips down her arm and pecking the corner of her mouth. She hummed in content, as he repeated that with the other arm, wrapping both around his neck.

‘Breathe doll, nice & easy.’

He cooed softly. And she followed like clockwork, cupping his face, connecting their foreheads. Still hyper-aware of his hard, thick length inside her.

‘I love you.’

He whispered the magic words against her lips, and she sighed deeply.

‘Just a bit more, yeah? Can you do it for me princess?’

She would do anything for him if he held her like that.

‘Okay….okay.’

Jude grabbed a pillow & placed it under her back to turn her upwards, and changed to his preferred angle, as her legs dangled around his back. Her hands massaged his shoulders and upper arms, calming him down, slowing him down too, wordlessly. She continued to trace his face with her fingers, as he groaned gutturally, reaching his high. For minutes after, he just stayed inside (something he had started doing more & more) and on top.

When he finally rolled away, and she regained her breath thinking they could do down for their meal now, Jude had a different kind of meal cooking in his head. He sprinted downstairs to fetch the bottle of wine, and dragged her naked form to the shower, washing her, drinking the rich, rare wine off her body. Spilling it down her neck then licking it off her curves. Then repeating it on her back, drinking it off the curve of her hips. Pouring it from his mouth into hers, so she could taste him along with the wine. Turning her red in more ways than one. Later, he went down on her, making her see stars while she also worked up the nerves to use her hands on him (for the first time). His takeover of her senses and body was absolute tonight, and the colour never left her face. She hid under the blanket later, unable to meet his eyes, once her mind recovered enough to process their activities. Jude cajoled his way under the blanket, cooing into her ear, spooning her from behind, showering praises in that silky smooth voice as to how this was the best night of his life, and how she had been an absolute goddess. How she was made for him. They had their dinner in bed, and then crashed to a much needed sleep.

Condoms were antiquated history for Jude now. From the very beginning, since she got on the pill and he got a taste of what skin-to-skin feels like, he simply refused to go back, like his whole life had been a lie. Even on some rushed occasions, when there wasn’t enough window to clean up the mess later, he whined & reasoned to not have to put one on, only relenting when she absolutely put her foot down. But the frequency and intensity of their escapades always left a silent fear in the back of her head. The fear came alive one morning, when she realised she was two days late for her cycle.

It hit her like a truck. She never got late (barring some rare occasions involving health, stress etc), so the panic was in full swing. Ananya barely got through the day at work, mechanically finishing her tasks and confiding in Roma in the evening on their way back. She had iced out Jude all day, undecided on how to deal with him or what to even tell him right now. But the nosy detective that he was (especially when it came to her), he figured something was off and landed at her place unannounced later that evening. By then, Roma had almost convinced her to take a pregnancy test, while she cried into her arms on how her whole life was ending.

Jude was alarmed to see her state, and both girls were confused what to tell him. Roma suggested it maybe best if he comes back later but Jude absolutely refused, looking straight at Ananya, who was looking everywhere but at him. He could’t take it anymore & just held her tightly in his arms.

‘Dove, it’s me. What can’t you tell me? What’s gotten you like this?’

She just let her body go, resting against him, sniffling a little into his sweatshirt. Roma left the room to give them some space. A thousand horrible thoughts hit Jude simultaneously.

‘Has something happened? Did someone…hurt you? Baby pls I’m dying out here.’

He titled her face up, staring straight into her eyes.

‘I’m….late.’

It took him a few seconds to understand what she meant. And the world came crashing down on him too. Ananya was nervous about his reaction, but somehow those fears were proven unwarranted. Because he quickly got into a problem solving mode, getting over the initial shock.

‘You used the pill daily right? You even had the app.’

‘Yes.’

‘So we’re going to be fine. Take the test, I’m waiting here.’

‘But what if we’re not? What if…..’

‘Babe, let’s not speculate. Let’s take the test first yeah?’

‘I’m scared.’

Well, he was scared too, but he was steady for her in that moment.

‘I’m here. I’ve got you.’

‘Why aren’t you freaking out?’

‘Coz looking at you I thought it was something much worse. This, we can handle.’

The next few minutes were the longest of her life. Ananya couldn’t breathe till the result came out negative. She refused to even look at the stick, Roma checked it and broke the news to her. And finally she stopped hyperventilating. Jude ordered some blueberry cheesecake and ravioli, which she hogged, having starved herself under stress all day. Once the storm had settled down, and they were lying in bed together, scrolling through Netflix to pick a new show, Jude made a joke. At least he thought it was funny.

‘So you thought I could break even the pill yeah?’

She turned to look at his smirking face filled with a weird sense of cockiness.

‘You find this funny? No seriously is this a joke to you? Are you proud of your vigorous masculinity?’

Once again, he didn’t know what hit him, feeling like a proper fool for inviting this onslaught.

‘I was just…’

‘Just what? What if it was positive, huh? But you wouldn’t have to lift a finger even then. I would have to go through the procedure, and I bet you have no idea how painful it is. Did you study biology in school? Or did you only hear till the point of sex and nothing after? Not the consequences? Not what comes after all your fun? Such a typical guy.’

Jude was sitting with his head down, like a schooled kid.

‘Am sorry, I really didn’t know it was painful.’

‘….I would have to tell at home, coz how could I keep something so major from them? But sure, you go ahead & make your jokes. Seriously the universe if so unfair - I wish you guys had to go through half the things we do. If your bodies had to bear the brunt of all your fetishes. But no - even god is unfair to women. So what can I even expect from men like you?’

Without giving him a chance to respond, she stormed off the bed and slammed the door of the washroom to take a shower to cool down. While Jude simply stared after her.

Roma was standing in the doorway, shaking her head slowly at the mess, leaning against the side. She had come to check on Ananya after listening to all the commotion.

‘Maybe the club should take IQ tests along with medical tests before signing players?’

Jude gave her a half-hurt half-dirty look.

‘Gee thanks. What an awesome friend you are.’

‘You’re welcome. Now try not to dig a deeper hole for yourself & call me when she comes out.’

Jude stuck his tongue out at her and she simply waved him off while walking away.

When Ananya came out after 30 mins, smelling like strawberries from her shower, dressed in a comfy fluffy pink bathrobe, Jude simply hugged her from behind, keeping his chin on her shoulder, rubbing his cheek against hers, slowly swaying her in his hold, whispering in her ear how he was her silly baby. She gave in soon, because one needed to be a battle-hardened soldier to stay mad at that face for long. And she couldn’t see him sad, especially when it was her doing; a fact he knew & exploited with impunity. But she did keep him at an arm’s length for a few days after, still spooked by what nearly happened, and Jude has to slowly claw his way back under the sheets.

Thankfully, that had been the only pregnancy scare so far. And Jude never whined after that whenever Ananya suggested using a condom.

Passion was a cornerstone of their relationship. But it surprised Jude how much he craved her otherwise too. How much her proximity (or lack of it) impacted his mood.

Ananya thoroughly revelled in their domestic moments. The little things he did for her, almost instinctively now. All the sweet treats that came his way through events, sponsorships etc were passed on to her & Roma. As did some exclusive club merchandise, which both the girls simply loved donning. Pre-match & post-match messages from her was a ritual between them, irrespective of the result. As were the late night calls, when he was out for away games or international break. Jude never missed sending her flowers every week; by now Ananya had seen almost all varieties discovered by mankind since Jude’s brief to the florist was to send new ones every time. On the two rare occasions that he missed it, he sent extra large ones to her office to make up for it.

‘I know what you’re doing.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘Using this to re-establish to folks here that I’m taken.’

‘Calling me smart?’

‘Calling you ruthless.’

‘Love it.’

Weekly movie nights were a norm too, sometimes with the three of them. On most occasions, Roma & Jude acted like long-lost twins, perfectly in sync. On the rare exceptions, they got on each others’ nerves like hell and Ananya had to play referee in the middle, balancing between her boyfriend and best friend.

The absolute melting point for Ananya was to watch fans respond to Jude, and the love he had already earned in his first season. Watching him with kids practically made her heart do somersaults. And her ovaries burst with anticipation. The feeling was indescribable - the way kids sought him out, clung to him, played with him, laughed with him, idolised him, cried for him - it was just pure & serene, something to be felt only by Jude & those around him. He was special, and the kids’ love was the deepest affirmation possible.

Jude was chronically online whenever he was idle, which meant Ananya often had the most random & diverse messages waiting for her, at ungodly times. Holiday destinations, funny memes, quotes from classics (he was trying out of FOMO since Jobe & Ananya often discussed this at length), football history, Spotify playlists (too much of Elvis for her liking but she never said that out loud), new branded fits, videos from training sessions or matches, pics of lingerie he was planning to buy for her, pics of food he could never eat but lived vicariously when she did, pics of English countryside (he had taken offence when she claimed Switzerland was more picturesque) his selfies, some old photos he had clicked of her & of them together, and many other things. She had learnt never to open his messages in company, because sometimes they ranged from fluffy to downright filthy, and he owned both with pride.

Probably the trickiest point that they constantly navigated was her feelings on Jude’s previous lifestyle & the ramifications on their current life. After the Christmas fiasco (which had nearly ended them for good), Jude was quite mindful of his behaviour. And overshared with her for good measure even if the situation was borderline tricky - say with a shoot or some DMs or some fan attention. But given how popular & sought after he was with women, the kind of reactions he drew wherever he went, it was never going to be easy for Ananya. He was constantly flooded with propositions, some harmless, some not, and had immense access all the time. His submission was for her to trust that he won’t abuse that access, won’t act on it, simply because he doesn’t need to now that he had her.

But the aftershock of that Christmas picture was still buried somewhere in her heart; it never truly went away. The lingering doubt never truly went away. In a vulnerable moment, when both of them were slightly tipsy, she brought it up.

‘Do you ever miss aspects of that life? The carefree fun & thrill?’

‘No.’

‘C’mon Jude.’

‘Not at the cost of you.’

To his credit, his stance had always been this. Always consistent. But she chose to push further.

‘Did you ever feel like going back?’

He looked at her with those big eyes, pleading to not pursue it. But she was on a mission tonight.

‘You can tell me. I won’t get mad.’

‘Yeah you’re just saying it. Then you’ll get all weird & distant.’

‘I won’t. Surely there has to be something.’

Jude was torn, but the alcohol had numbed his brain more than usual, as had her soft voice & calming presence.

‘Like….very early on..,when we were fighting, and that whole asshole episode….when you weren’t…we weren’t….’

‘Sleeping together.’

‘..Yes.’

She had guessed as much. Sex was important to him. But how could she hold that against him when it was true for most men, especially those in his position.

‘I…just thought it’d be easier…less complicated….like maybe I wasn’t cut out for this…not now maybe…the feelings for you were new & confusing….but it was a passing thought…like super brief.’

She heard him out patiently, piecing together what he wasn’t saying, keeping her tone & face neutral, devoid of any judgement.

‘Then why didn’t you?’

‘Act on it?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Coz it was brief…I wasn’t…it wasn’t…’

‘But still.’

‘Because that would mean the end of us. That wasn’t an option. That isn’t an option.’

Her gaze was firm & piercing, trying to break through any potential charade. But she didn’t find any. And he pulled her close, kissing her softly, as she settled on his chest.

Now, Jude could have stayed quiet and could have let this moment pass peacefully. But he ended up yapping more & put his foot in his mouth.

‘Even for stuff you can’t do with your girlfriend, it just wasn’t worth it, y’know.’

She pulled away, crossing her arms, face all analysing again.

‘Yeah? And what is that stuff that you can’t do with your girlfriend? That you were doing elsewhere?’

Jude was alert now. He wondered if his mum had dropped him on his head as a kid, coz how could he consistently find himself in such situations, of his own doing? Especially when his girlfriend was a lawyer or Sherlock Holmes or a bloodhound in a previous life? How could he be so fucking stupid in front of her?

‘You promised to not get mad.’

‘Not mad. Just curious.’

‘Tell that to your face.’

‘Don’t change the topic, Jude.’

‘Can we pls let this go, Ananya? What good will come of this? We’ll just spoil our night.’

Thing is, his past befuddled her. She absolutely didn’t want to know yet a part of her really wanted to know. Like ripping off a band-aid. And getting through every unpleasant information in one go. So there are no surprises anymore. But she didn’t know how to do it without judging. He believed being single gave him all the freedom in the world and their moral wavelengths just didn’t match at all. It was never going to. So grudgingly, she let it go.

Jude’s abstinence from certain activities, which he was a regular in earlier, was soon noticed by some of his teammates, especially Vini & Cama. And the fact that he was on his phone a lot, with a gooey face (in Cama’s words). They figured it out, and hounded him till he had to come clean. But he didn’t tell them who he was seeing (he wasn’t allowed to), just said there is someone, and showed a quick photo to shut their mouths. Since then, they referred to her as Jude’s girl.

He had also been selective in introducing Ananya to his teammates. His previous partners-in-crime were nowhere on the list. The memo was clear in his head - committed guys with a clean reputation who will not blab him out.

Brahim and his girlfriend were invited over for lunch. Toni & his wife for coffee. Ananya was cool with Brahim - they got along well quickly and the conversation flowed naturally. But she hyperventilated when she saw Toni, the fan in her dancing a Flamenco inside. Jude kept elbowing her to reduce the pitch of her voice or not blink like a crazy person, but how was she supposed to be normal around one of Madrid’s greatest players ever? The cornerstone of their best years? Toni fucking Kroos. The absolute machine. And she was sitting across him in Jude’s lawn, just like that? Talking about fucking doughnuts? Like seriously?

The moment they walked out the door, she jumped into Jude’s arms and kissed his face all over. Jude balanced her by holding onto her butt, settling on the couch with her in his lap as she continued to put lipgloss marks on his face enthusiastically.

‘I love you I love you I love you I love you I loveeeee youuuuuuu!’

‘Because I got you to Toni?’

‘Yes.’

‘Not for me?’

‘Yeah that too.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Awwiiee my little bean my pumpkin my sweet babu - such a cute boy.’

Ananya was never one to bombard him with multiple nicknames (that was Jude’s territory), so the boy was extra amused at her antics.

‘I think my baby deserves a special reward for making his girlfriend so so happy.’

Suddenly, the mood shifted. She took off her top slowly, leaving her in a dark pink bra. Jude’s eyes were glued there. And his body immediately responded when she guided his palm to her breasts, letting him play with them as he pleased.

‘The baby agrees.’

Jude pulled it down, and started sucking the soft brown peaks like a starved man. This is how he wished to be welcomed home every night - his girlfriend all pretty & naked for him, serving her tits into his mouth.

‘Not so soon. My turn first.’

Jude groaned loudly when he was removed from his personal fountain of heaven. Her fingers in his hair tugging his head back, craning it up for her.

She smiled and bit softly at his cheekbones, the sharp tip of his nose, his plump lips. She tilted his head further up to kiss along his neck & his sexy AF beard, bite his prominent Adam’s apple (her guilty pleasure), then twisted her head to reach the taut muscles at the back of his neck. He sighed softly all through, loving the attention. It nearly made up for his deprivation, nearly. Plus his hands were still there.

Ananya ended with biting his earlobe softly, whispering seductively in his ear.

‘I see what you’re doing though, how you’re picking the folks. You’re too plain like that.’

Jude’s brain capacity was significantly reduced at this point.

‘I’m plain?’

She rolled her eyes at how offended and confused he sounded. Such vanity!

‘Not your looks, jeez. But your moves, yes.’

‘Huh?’

‘Still wanna meet the others, especially Cama.’

That messed with his mood.

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘You know why.’

‘Remind me.’

‘You find him more adorable than me.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Umm because you’ve said it like a zillion times.’

She threw her head back & giggled, slowly pulling his track pants down and sliding one hand inside, earning a desperate moan from him.

‘Maybe.’

‘Then maybe I should tell you about all his extra curricular activities. It’s a long list.’

She batted her eyes at him, tilting her head to the side, unperturbed.

‘Oh, but then I’ll get a sense of your extra curricular activities too, no?’

Jude always avoided this topic like plague; they both knew that. He stared at the sexy menace in his lap, who was out-manoeuvring & check-mating him with ease. How & when did she learn that?

His hand cupped her butt, then spanked it with force. She gasped loudly, surprised at the suddenness.

‘Getting too smart for your own good, little dove.’

‘Smart is my second name.’

Jude lifted her out of his lap & threw her on the couch, getting on top of her. Pinning her down decisively.

‘STOP TALKING ABOUT OTHER MEN WHEN YOU’RE NAKED WITH ME.’

‘Yeah? What are you going to do about it?’

‘Gonna fuck this attitude right out of you.’

Jude grabbed her top from the floor and used it to tie her hands together, behind her. She immediately felt vulnerable, having no line of physical defence anymore. He pressed his bare leaking tip on her belly, enjoying her shudders, then slid it up her body to her tits, pressing into both, settling between them, cupping them with his hands to build friction. The tip hit her chin with each calculated stroke of his. And she knew he wanted nothing more than to shove it into her mouth, something he hadn’t gotten from her yet.

Her helpless whimpers were music to his ears.

‘Not so lippy anymore?’

She could only moan in response. Which turned into a loud gasp when he spread her legs impossibly wide, made a sloppy mess of her core with his mouth, then slapped it lightly, all while rendering her helpless. As if making a point that all of her belonged only to him. That he was taking what was his.

Before she could get any words out, he flipped them to move her on top. For the next 20 mins, he bounced her on himself mercilessly, thoroughly extracting his reward, as she struggled to find any anchor or purchase from the position.

Exhausted, they snuggled on the couch after, lying side by side, recovering from the impromptu session. Jude lazily played with her hair, while she wondered about the stain they would have left on the pristine white couch.

‘Still can’t believe I just met Toni Kroos.’

Jude gave her a side-eye, expressing his displeasure at this being her first thought, after what they just did. But she squeezed his cheeks in response, which he grudgingly got out of.

‘Wonder what you’ll do if I’ll call someone else…let's say….Zidane?’

She stilled, then turned towards him.

‘Can you?’

Well, he had just said it for fun, he obviously was not on such familiar terms with the great Zizou.

‘Maybe. What will I get then?’

‘What do you want?’

He nibbled on her bottom lip, a naughty smirk plastered on his face.

‘Anything. Everything. However many times I ask for.’

She met his lustful gaze head on, familiar with his game by now.

‘It’s possible. If you bring me you know who.’

‘Ronaldo.’

‘Bingo.

‘Nope.’

‘Why?’

‘You’ll jump on him in front of me.’

‘Pls, I’ll never embarrass myself like that.’

‘Don’t trust you around him.’

‘Nonsense. I might faint or get a heart attack if he knows I exist but I am not gonna jump on him for sure.’

‘You’ll tell him you love him. That he’s your favourite.’

‘I do love him. And he’s my favourite. You know that.’

‘Yeah not gonna happen.’

‘Whatever you’re just a hater.’

She made a face & tried to move away but his grip on her waist tightened.

‘What?’

She could tell he wanted to say something, but was hesitating.

‘Do you love him more than me?’

Jude was nervous about the answer. There is a reason he had waited months to bring this up.

Colour drained from Ananya’s face. In real time. But she was supposed to be the wordsmith here, she could get out of this.

‘I love him differently and you differently. Chalk & cheese. Can’t be compared.’

‘That’s not what I asked.’

‘Well, your question is flawed.’

She had loved her favourite player for 15-16 years. He was the reason she fell in love with football and Madrid in the first place. And a part of her died when he left Madrid. Of course she loved him, deeply. It was obvious. What was Jude even asking?

‘Still, answer it.’

‘Jude….’

‘It's him, isn’t it?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘So if we draw Portugal in the Euros, you’d root for them to win? Over me?’

‘I…it’s not that simple.’

‘Wow!’

‘I’d probably root for a draw.’

‘And if it’s a knockout? Will my own girlfriend not be in my corner in one of the most important games of my life?’

Jude was throwing the kitchen sink at her - the sad words, the long face, the puppy eyes, the hurt voice, the deflated shoulders. She felt very, very guilty. But she wasn’t going to lie to him.

‘I’m sorry love. Don’t know how to feel about this. Would always want you to do well, obviously, but I can’t also root against him in his last Euros.’

Jude couldn’t believe it, and sulked for a good while after that. She cooked for him & fussed over him for hours, and he eventually cheered up. Because, it was tough for him to stay mad at her too.

Introducing her to his friends from back home was far less complicated. They were coming over for a home game, and Jude invited everyone to his place the next evening to formally introduce them to his girlfriend.

‘No female friends or girlfriends?’

‘Nope.’

‘All guys?’

‘Yeah. That a problem?’

‘Problem? No. Just too much testosterone energy. Would have been nice to have a girl in the mix.’

Jude laughed so expressively that he nearly dropped the coffee cup on himself.

‘Will remember to be pally with more girls then, just for your sake.’

She chose to ignore that.

‘So, how deeply have they been instructed to not dish out anything about your escapades?’

Very deeply & thoroughly, in a serious tone. Many stories were off limits. Jude was well aware of her ability to connect the dots.

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Right.’

Ananya was nervous about meeting them. She wondered if they’d like her, given how different their upbringing and cultures were. It had taken Jude also a while to understand her sensibilities.

But Jude didn’t leave her side that evening, his proximity a warm assurance to her. An arm over her shoulder or around her waist, a hand on her lap, or just holding hands with her. He was right there. Explaining an inside joke she didn’t have context on. Or cutting the group’s banter when he thought it was too much / too soon for her. Ananya felt all fuzzy inside when he spoke about her work & pedigree, propping her up as best he could. She loved seeing him in his element too - unguarded, unfiltered, vivacious - with friends who knew him inside out. All his animated goofy antics on full display.

Whenever Jude couldn’t be around, Jobe was by her side. She had been relieved to know that Jobe was coming over too, and the duo had hung out that afternoon while Jude had been away for training. She had developed her own, easy dynamic with Jobe, outside of being Jude’s brother. Jude often wondered what those two talked about for so long, but never asked either of them. Mostly he was just glad that they had hit it off, coz both were reserved in their own ways, unlike him.

Jude loved showing her off that evening. Grinning from ear to ear when she dumbed down her work in basic simple words, just for everyone’s benefit. How the group responded to her natural ease & sharp wit. How some were secretly in awe of her confidence & brains, a little bit, Jude could tell. And when they discovered she was a genuine football fan (not pretending to be one to look cool or fit in), the ice broke completely. Many football stories followed after - most involving Jude & some of his ‘not so god-like’ moments on the pitch. She soaked in everything - paying close attention to everyone. Later that night, when the party progressed to some music and Jude put his hands on her, swaying her hips to the tune (as was their routine), there were loud cheers of ‘get a room’. Ananya was flustered, wiggling out of his hold while Jude just laughed & gave them a middle finger. It was a fun night.

Mostly a fun night, barring one unpleasant incident. One of his friends made a somewhat loose remark on Ananya, which Jude overheard. It wasn’t much, could have easily been written off as banter, and frankly wasn’t an uncommon or a new line in their group. He had heard it before. Hell, he had said it before. But this time, it made Jude’s head hot. While others had caught on that this was different for Jude, this particular friend was either too drunk or just daft.

Toby elbowed the said friend, telling him to shut his trap, while Jobe was on Jude’s side, watching his brother, ready to intervene if needed. Jude considered asking Jobe to take Ananya inside, who was helping the housekeeper set up the desserts some distance away, while he deals with the situation. But many eyes turned on him to impress upon him that it wasn’t worth it.

The said friend was apologising profusely, which fell on deaf ears. He eventually decided to not ruin the night, for others, but mostly for her. However, Jude wasn’t going to allow that guy to be anywhere near Ananya.

‘Get out.’

With that, Jude went to find the only person who could calm him down right now. Ananya felt his arm wrap around her waist, more possessive than usual, pulling her into his side. She smiled up at him, but could’t recognise the look on his face. Jobe jogged over, and the brothers exchanged a look. She looked between them, then at Jobe, who gave her a reassuring nod and walked away after patting Jude’s shoulder. While Jude’s hand fidgeted on her waist.

‘Honey, what’s wrong?’

Jude was mad at the guy. But somewhere he was more mad at himself. It was because of who he was, rather who he had been, that the guy was able to take the liberty to make such a comment on her. He was fighting the urge of going after the guy and apologising to her at the same time. His thoughts were in mayhem. His eyes reflecting the storm inside.

Her soft voice & concerned eyes anchored him back, as did her hand gently stroking his chest. When he didn’t say anything, she nudged him down for a soft kiss, breaking her rule of no PDA. Swallowing his irritation. When they parted, Jude smiled at his magical girl, and Ananya led him back to the group.

That night triggered something in Jude. He wanted to show her off to the world now. Wanted to have her on his arm. Wanted to go out to dinner dates & clubs with her. Wanted to claim her as his girlfriend. Wanted the whole fucking world to know who she belonged to, and what she meant to him.

The return leg against Manchester City provided the perfect opportunity. She was in London that week for work, 75 mins away from the stadium. When Jude asked her a couple of days before the match, it didn’t go down as he intended. There was silence on the line, and his mood already was in the bin.

‘Will you say something?’

She didn’t know what to say, completely caught off-guard by his question.

‘I-I don’t know what my schedule would be like. If I’d get done in time for the match.’

‘It’s at night. I can still send the passes and you can come if you get done? You can bring Roma too, I’ll handle the logistics.’

Silence again. Jude was losing patience and cut to the chase.

‘You don’t even wanna try do you?’

‘Jude, it’s not like that. But we shouldn’t rush into this. It’s a massive thing.’

‘6 months. We’ve been together 6 months, Ananya.’

‘I know. But I’m in the middle of this crazy cross-geography deal, and I still have a few MBA interviews lined up for next week. The safe schools, but still. There is so much going on. Maybe we should wait for a better time?’

‘And when would that be?’

‘Jude, we need to plan for this. I’m in the London office right now. How do you think I’d be able to walk into the boardroom with all our directors and clients next day if we actually go through with this? What would they be thinking when I’ll be running through my presentation?’

‘You tell me - what would they be thinking?’

‘They’ll only see me as your girlfriend Jude.’

A 20 yr old frivolous (easy) piece of ass. Not an investment banking analyst specialising in leveraged buyouts. That is, if her MD doesn’t decide to leave her out of the presentation to avoid any drama.

It was his turn to be silent. She could hear his heavy breath while she waited anxiously for a response.

‘Is it so terrible for you to be seen as my girlfriend? Even after all this time?’

His voice was low. Vulnerable. Hurt. How she wished she was there with him right now.

‘Nothing baby. So long as people see me beyond that too. Which is why we need to time this right - at work, with my parents - we need to find the perfect tim….’

‘There’s never going to be a perfect time. You’ll have to rip off the band-aid at some point. Given how painful it seems to be for you.’

The truth in his words cut deeply. There was nothing she could say to soothe him, despite knowing he was hurting. She tried, but no words came out, leading to a deafening silence.

He hung up shortly after, with a curt goodnight, and Ananya didn’t know what to do with herself. Sleep eluded both that night. Jude kept to himself during the flight next morning, saying he was tired. The team let him be. He didn’t respond to her messages of good morning or safe travels. Left them on unread all day. Only giving in at night after returning from the stadium.

The match was next night. He desperately needed some sleep but somehow his body was refusing his command. And he knew the cure to his restlessness - avoiding her was not it. Even his treacherous body didn’t allow it.

He dialled her number, and she picked up in three rings, on her way back to her hotel. It was 11 pm - Jude couldn’t help but check on the route she was taking & how far out she was, only slumping back in bed once he was satisfied with her response. Long silence followed after the pleasantries, which she eventually broke.

‘How was your day?’

‘Shitty as fuck.’

‘Mine too, baby. But it’s such a big day for you & the team tomorrow. Maybe let’s focus on that, yeah? Let’s win tomorrow baby. Think about it - you returning home & knocking out the defending champions, the favourites, on their turf. Avenging last year’s loss. With your family & friends cheering you on. We’ll get to the semis Jude, in your first year. Think how amazing that would be.’

‘You won’t be there.’

‘I’m so sorry, my love. Tell me what can I do to make it up to you and I will. But this can’t be the reason that holds you back tomorrow - I need to see you shine on that pitch. To give your 200% and more. It’s the big occasion, and I need my big game player to show the world what he’s made of. So tell me, what will it take?’

He knew the answer right away.

‘Come home with me this weekend. To Birmingham.’

Jude had a window after this match and before the international break. He was going home for a few days, she knew that. His parents had asked about meeting her a few times - she had met Jobe & his friends after all, but never the parents. Not even a few times they had been with Jude in Madrid. Jude had tested waters during one such trip, but figured it was too soon for her. She had told him she’d never met a boyfriend’s parents before, and it was a very big deal in her world. So he gave her space and bought time with his parents. But it had been 6 months now, more than enough time.

Ananya took a few deep breaths. What he was asking for was fair. Nerve-wrecking but fair. She couldn’t deny him this, she didn’t have the heart to, no matter how nervous this made her.

‘Ok.’

‘What?’

‘I said ok.’

‘You’ll come with me?’

‘Yes Jude.’

‘Not going to bail on me?’

‘No. I’ll work from there if I have to but I’ll come.’

All restlessness evaporated from his body as he slowly processed her words. He found a pillow, hugging it close, remembering her scent.

‘Gonna win for you tomorrow.’

‘You do that. I’ll be watching you.’

‘Love you.’

‘Love you more.’

‘Not possible.’

Ananya made him hang up shortly after, saying he needed the rest, and Jude drifted off to a sound sleep.

Once she reached her hotel, she banged on Roma’s door. Roma was taking a relaxing shower after a long day but ran out to find an impatient Ananya on the other side.

‘I’m meeting his parents.’

‘What? When?’

‘THIS WEEKEND. And I don’t have anything to wear. This is a nightmare.’

Roma stood in her bathrobe, leaning against the closet, listening to Ananya rant for 10 mins. It was ridiculous, her friend had the most age appropriate closet she had ever seen. And she was golden when it came to the kind of girls Jude was likely to bring home. Sheer fucking golden.

But Roma took her best friend duties seriously. She tried to talk sense into Ananya, promised to figure out her wardrobe tomorrow, then practically dragged her to the bathtub and pushed her inside so she could calm the fuck down.

Madrid won the next night. The girls were ecstatic, jumping on their hotel bed ecstatic, ordering late night champagne to their room to celebrate. Ananya was so proud of him. He had been imperial on the pitch, relentless. Her heart ached to be there with him, especially when he wanted her so. But it was only a matter of 2 days now - Friday evening she’d travel to Birmingham to spend the weekend in his family home.

Thursday night, Ananya turned her (& Roma’s) suitcases upside down to find the right clothes. Asking Jude what would be appropriate was a royal waste of time - he just looked at her like she was asking him the square root of 1691. Then said cool to everything she showed him. Jobe, the otherwise reliable, sane one just gave her an incredulous look too. She realised the brothers had the same WTF face. She also concluded that men were an utterly useless breed in most cases. Next evening, she got in the car that Jude insisted he would send, and was on her way.

At the other end, Jude was chomping at the bit all evening. Bouncing around the house in anticipation. When she was 5 mins away and took a wrong turn, he frowned at the screen.

‘Pls don’t tell me you’re tracking her phone.’

‘Oh she’ll murder me with her bare tiny hands. I’m tracking the driver.’

‘Of course.’

The car had barely parked in the driveway around 10 pm when Jude opened her gate, pulled her out, hugged her tight, lifting her straight off the ground. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Both whispering ‘missed you’ together. They hadn’t seen each other in 10 days. Not even on her 21st birthday a week ago, since she was in London for work.

About 30 seconds later, she tapped on his back to put her down, and he did. Jude held her hand and picked up her bag with the other one, leading her to the house.

He could tell she was nervous; it was kinda cute. But she really had no reason to be. His parents were super cool and he just knew they’d love her.

‘You’re fine. It’s gonna be fine.’

He whispered before opening the door. And they met Jobe on the other side. He gave her a quick side hug, with a sweet ‘welcome home’. That put her at ease, somewhat.

Mark & Denise were in the living room. She wasn’t sure how to greet them or what to call them, so she had decided to go with Mr. and Mrs. Bellingham. But before she could open her mouth & embarrass herself, Mark came over & lightly patted her shoulder.

‘Heyyy Ananya, welcome. I’m Mark.’

The pronunciation of her name was perfect, and she could tell Jude had something to do with it.

‘Hey Mark, how are you?’

‘All good. So good to finally meet the girl my son can’t stop raving about.’

‘Thanks Dad.’

Mark just play-pushed Jude away. And Ananya could see where Jude got his grin and easy-going attitude from.

‘So good to be here.’

Denise was watching them from the side. Their eyes met, and both women slowly walked towards each other, shaking hands.

‘Hey Ananya, good to see you.’

‘You too, Denise. What a lovely home.’

‘Thank you. Come have some dinner? We saved some casserole - Jude said you’re vegetarian.’

She was about to say yes out of courtesy when Jude intervened.

‘Mom she had some takeaway on the road coz it was getting late.’

‘I see.’

‘But the casserole sounds lovely, I’ll have it tomorrow.’

Ananya quickly chimed in.

‘Sure. You must be tired. Get some rest, see you in the morning.’

After some quick good-nights, Jude led her upstairs to his room, hand-in-hand. The staircase wall was filled with family photos over the years, many more than his place in Madrid. She glanced through all, feeling the warmth of the family home, getting a window into their closely-knit unit.

Jude’s room was no different, littered with photos & memorabilia, a wide contrast to his squeaky clean room in Madrid. That was a man’s room, this was a boy’s. This still had memories of his growing up years, and they seemed to want to keep it that way. Jude let her look around, breathe it in, while he put away her stuff in his closet.

A minute later, strong arms wrapped around her from behind, and his chin rested on her shoulder.

‘Hey.’

‘Can’t believe you’re really here.’

‘Me neither.’

Both moved at the same time to lean in for a kiss. Jude lifted her, carrying her to the bed, as she settled into his lap in their trademark koala hug. Lips glued to each others’. His hand at the back of her neck guiding their pace.

After a long make-out, she slowly pushed at his chest, and he broke the kiss grudgingly. He had promised her to behave himself this weekend - Ananya’s condition of coming over was ‘no funny business’ and for him to keep his hands to himself. But she was so close & he couldn’t understand why he had to deny himself.

‘I’ll stop soon.’

She shook her head slowly.

‘You know you won’t.’

‘They won’t mind. They may not even notice.’

‘Jude, you promised.’

‘Fiiiiine.’

He plopped on the bed dramatically, as she stepped into the washroom to change, emerging in his jersey and her pyjamas. She snuggled next to him, and he pulled the blanket over them, holding her close.

‘I’m so proud of you. Last night was awesome.’

‘Thanks dove.’

‘All Madridistas are proud of you.’

He tapped on her lips lovingly.

‘But I care about this one the most.’

‘Such a charmer.’

He gave her a Jude grin in response, and they fell back to a comfortable silence, just soaking each other in.

‘Honey, I’m sorry about the game.’

She knew she had hurt him. She knew it was playing on his mind. His arms tightened around her in response, like she’d slip away any second if he weren’t careful.

‘Let’s not go there right now, yeah?’

‘Ok.’

It would have opened some existential doors that both weren’t ready to look behind at this point. She was here, that’s what mattered right now. Jude leaned it to kiss her again, enveloping her mouth in a deep, comforting kiss. Just then, there was a knock on the door.

‘Hey guys, can I come in?’

‘No. Go away.’

Ananya smacked Jude’s chest in admonishment, sitting up in bed and fixing her hair/attire quickly.

‘Come in Jobe.’

The younger Bellingham snuck his head in first, followed by the rest of him. He was already taller than Jude, and still growing (something he never failed to highlight). Ananya genuinely wanted to ask Denise what she had fed them as kids.

‘I come bearing gifts.’

Denise had sent over some sponge cake, mostly for her, since Jude couldn’t have this stuff. Her face lit up at the prospect of home-cooked cake, and she hungrily took it from Jobe, quickly stuffing her mouth with it.

The three sat on the bed, talking about random stuff for some time after. Jude couldn’t wait for his brother to piss off, and he wasn’t subtle about it AT ALL, despite glares from Ananya. When Jobe did leave in some time, Ananya threw him a dirty look.

‘That was not very nice.’

‘He’ll live.’

‘Jude.’

‘What? He’ll do the same in my position.’

‘I highly doubt it.’

‘Baby, he’s a lot like me. You just don’t see it yet, or don’t want to.’

Ananya didn’t want to ask what that meant. Maybe he was right, maybe she didn’t want to see it.

So she changed the subject.

‘How’s the shoulder now?’

‘Not killing me if thats what you’re asking.’

‘And the back?’

‘Very much killing me.’

‘Let me see.’

Jude laid face down onto the pillow, while she straddled him, keeping her knees on either side.

He often joked that she had turned into a half physio by now, and should start charging the club as a side-hustle. She had picked up on a few things, from trying to help ease his pain on some particularly harsh nights.

Slowly, she massaged down the spasming muscles, applying pressure at the right points. He moaned into the pillow, asking for more. She went again, and he moaned harder. So much that she had to ask him to be quieter.

‘My dick’s hurting too. Badly. Can you tend to it next?’

She smacked his butt in response. Which had the opposite effect coz he absolutely loved it & laughed into the pillow.

‘Stop being a pervert.’

Jude twisted his neck back to try catching her eyes.

‘How can I be a pervert with my own girlfriend?’

She twisted it right back, pushing him back into the pillow.

‘You can write a book on it.’

‘You’re hurting my feelings.’

‘You’ll live.’

Jude smiled at the way she used his own words against him, ever the wordsmith. His body relaxed under her soft, concerned hands, and he pulled her back down next to him after some time, drifting off to sleep soon after, burying his head in the crook of her neck, one arm & leg over her body, as her arms draped around his shoulders.

Ananya was wide awake for a while, taking in the room and all that would have happened here. When he would have first thought to start playing football, as a 6 yr old. When he would have stared at the ceiling, dreaming of playing professionally. When he would have gotten into Birmingham City and had the season that he did. When the young boy would have cried for having to leave his room, his house, his city, his club, his family, his country to play for Dortmund. That was all he would have wanted but it would have hit then how much he would have to leave behind. When he would have come here after making it at Dortmund. And finally, when the boy had turned into a man at Madrid. This room witnessed it all. If only the walls could talk, she’d sit & hear every single thing about the man she loved - his dreams, his fears, his secrets, his little jokes, his joys, his habits, his whole life.

The thoughts led to a lump in her throat and a tingling in her eyes. Jude stirred in his sleep, moving his mouth on her neck, as if sensing her restlessness. She held him tighter, he did the same, and she didn’t realise when sleep took over.

Next morning, they slept in late, and no one disturbed them. The day was filed with fun family time.

First up was a barbecue in the backyard. She was touched to find they had gotten vegetables specifically for her. Mark & Jobe were on barbecue duty while Jude was helping Denise in the kitchen with salad & mashed potatoes. Ananya chose to side with the former team, having never seen this up close. And also because she was a little intimidated by Denise. This would have been the perfect organic window to break the ice, with Jude around, but she chickened out and picked the easier option. Mark showed her how to do the vegetables and she did the rest on her own, under his close supervision.

The family & her ate outside. Mark started talking about her work & plans, and he made it very easy for her to open up. At one point she even went into a monologue, speaking for a few mins straight, feeling embarrassed after. Jude & Mark started arguing about something random then, in a competition of who could yap more/louder, with Jobe joining in for some bits. Eventually, Denise put an end to the argument & the focus came back to the food. Which was frankly delicious.

Next up were home videos & photo albums, something she had specifically requested Jobe for. Her mouth was in a constant ‘aww’ mode looking at Jude’s childhood clippings. She was sitting between the brothers on the couch, and they kept filling her in on the context.

‘What happened to this cute boy?’

She was looking at his 3rd birthday album - big cheeks & puppy eyes tugging at her heart.

‘He got cuter.’

Jude giggled next to her, kissing her cheek, and she couldn’t even deny it factually. There were more clips of him with his little cousins, playing & laughing with them. He was a natural with kids, a downright magnet and hands down favourite.

For the first time, she wondered about having a little version of him running around the house. With Jude running right behind, pretending to lose the race. It did something to her. Something fluffy yet dangerous. She had to physically clutch her chest to keep her heart from hammering against it. Thankfully, they moved to watching a movie next. The first half was a blur, her thoughts still scattered, but the safety of being tucked under Jude’s arm brought her back out of her trance.

In the afternoon, the parents were busy with some calls. Jude wanted to take a nap with Ananya, while Jobe wanted to show her his new collection of thriller novels. She went with the latter, spending some time in Jobe’s room as they discussed their favourite thrillers. When she returned to Jude’s room an hour later, she found him playing a violent video game, filled with guns & explosions. She sat next to him, leaning into his side.

‘Didn’t sleep?’

‘Nuh.’

He kept his eyes firmly on the screen. And it took her precisely 3 seconds to understand he was sulking.

‘Will you teach me how to play this?’

‘Jobe plays this too. Maybe he can show you.’

‘But I want my boyfriend.’

Scrutinising eyes turned towards her, trying to find any hint of sarcasm or flippancy, but was met with sincerity. He softened, easing his stance, pulling her legs into his lap, and proceeded to yap for 20 mins about a game she had zero interest in. But she had always been a fast learner, and actually played two quick turns decently well. Jude beamed with pride, and the pair went to their nap after.

Dinner was brief. Everyone was still stuffed from the heavy lunch. And she had some work to finish. So Jude & her ate in the room - salad for Jude and yesterday’s casserole for her. They both crashed early that night, tired from the day’s activities.

Sunday morning came. She had to head out that evening, these were their last few hours together till next Sunday when he returned to Madrid. And Jude was particularly needy since waking up. He tried negotiating with all his might, to get her to budge on the ‘no sex rule’, calling it torture. Calling it unfair. An unjust punishment. He tried guilt-tripping, blackmailing, pleading but nothing worked. She stayed firm, and got out of his hold.

It was still early, around 7 am. The house was quiet. He followed her into the kitchen when she came down for some milk, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, trying to kiss her neck.

‘JUDE.’

‘Let’s go to a hotel.’

‘What?’

‘For a few hours. There’s one nearby.’

He knew there was a private one nearby, because he had used it many times earlier. But obviously omitted that out.

‘You’re out of your mind.’

His hands moved to her butt, cupping & squeezing with force, channelling his frustration. She tried swatting his hands away but was no match to his strength & resolve.

‘Not here.’

‘Yes here.’

‘Pls behave.’

‘Why?’

‘Decorum.’

Denise’s voice from behind made them jump apart in a split-second. Ananya wanted to kill herself. No, she wanted to kill Jude. And Jude knew that. So he stood a good few feet away, outside of her reach.

‘Morning Mom.’

‘Morning Jude.’

‘Was just helping her find…..sugar.’

Ananya cringed internally. It was extra sad because she knew he’d think he was being smart.

‘It’s on the counter.’

‘Right. So…..I’ll head back then.’

Jude retreated soon after, escaping the looks from both women he loved the most in this world. Then, Denise turned towards Ananya and the girl nearly dropped her cup.

She was dressed in Jude’s hoodie from yesterday, and was convinced the universe was trying to kill her with embarrassment. What would Denise think, especially after what she just saw? Should she give an explanation? Should she act like an idiot (like that boy earlier) & find a way to escape? This is not how she imagined her first proper solo conversation with Denise.

‘I..I’m sorry about..that.’

‘You shouldn’t be the one apologising for my son.’

Her tone was on point, but also kinda soft. Ananya just nodded in response, unsure of what else to say.

‘I’m making coffee. Want some?’

‘Yeah sure.’

She saw the graceful woman move around her kitchen meticulously.

‘Thought you’d be a tea person.’

Denise smiled. And Ananya breathed a bit more easy.

‘I was. But last 4 years in Europe changed me a fair bit I guess.’

‘Must have been hard - uprooting your life like that.‘

‘Yeah. But Mark & I kinda knew what it would take to get the boys here.’

‘And it still goes on.’

Denise’s smile was directed straight at her this time.

‘It still goes on. But they are happy, so I’m happy.’

Such a simple line, summarising years of sacrifice and putting her life away for her sons. But it was all worth it, she could see it from the quiet pride & joy in Denise’s eyes when she talked about her boys. What a great woman. A strong, smart, opinionated, loving woman. And such a great mum too!

They stepped into the backyard with their coffee, sitting side by side on the bench. Jude came down to check on the scene once, but saw them chatting away, so went back up quietly. Or so he thought, coz both women heard him & shook their heads.

‘So, 6 months huh?’

‘Yeah. Don’t know where time went.’

‘Happens when you’re in love.’

It was plain as day to Denise that they were in their head over heels phase right now. No question.

‘I guess.’

‘It’s good to finally meet you.’

‘You too. And I’m sorry you had to find out that way…during Christmas.’

‘Again, not your fault.’

‘Were you surprised?’

‘That he was seeing someone? No. That he was in love? Yes. I’d never seen Jude so desperate like he was to get to you that day.’

‘I…I’m sorry for all the chaos and for…taking him away during Christmas.’

‘Dear, you need to stop apologising for everything. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you gave him hell for that. I would too. All self-respecting women should, but most don’t, for various reasons, which saddens me. He needs to learn that actions have consequences.’

Ananya nodded absent-mindedly, still processing her words. The conversation moved to a few random things about life in Madrid. A few mins later, Denise looked at Ananya with purpose.

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course.’

‘You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, or if you don’t know how to.’

That put her on guard.

‘Okay.’

‘There’s something holding you back from Jude. Something gnawing at you. Am I right?’

Ananya had not seen that coming. Her eyes fell to her lap as she fidgeted with her hands. How did Denise catch that in a day? Literally no words came to her head. Zilch.

Denise watched her closely. She knew she had hit the nail on its head. Her intuition had just been confirmed. There was something about Ananya’s look, the way she paused in the middle of conversations about the future, or when Mark said she’d join them for Christmas this year. Something flickered on her face, which she usually hid away quickly, but Denise had seen it.

‘Like I said, you don’t have to answer.’

She really shouldn’t. When she hadn’t even been able to properly articulate it to herself. Her boyfriend’s mom, who she was meeting for the first time, should be the last person she should confide in. But there was something about Denise’s demeanour right now which made Ananya want to bare her heart - something kind, motherly, like an older sister or best friend. A wise, comforting, knowing, trusted advisor.

Denise saw her struggle, and reached out to squeeze her hand gently. Ananya held it back, ready to cry at the gesture.

‘I won’t tell him.’

‘I know.’

After a few deep breaths, Ananya let the cat out of the bag.

‘I don’t know if I’m the right girl for him. If I can give him everything he wants in life.’

There was no point denying this anymore. The argument from the last match was playing in her head. It had far deeper connotations, something the couple was avoiding to discuss. Because it would open a pandora’s box of questions & predicaments.

When Jude had asked her to go public that night, her whole system revolved against the thought. Something Jude sensed, which had hurt him. Which made him ask that piercing question. And he was right - there was never going to be a perfect time. Not now. Not for the next two years when she’d be knee deep in her MBA, an ocean away from him. Post that, it would be the first few years of her career, she didn’t even know what would be the best location for it. Maybe US. Or London. Or back home in India - she could always go back to the Mumbai office, to be close to her family.

And Jude was going to be in Madrid. Her MBA or work won’t allow her enough time to fly in. And long distance would not work for Jude - he simply didn’t have the patience or maturity for it. He needed the constant reassurance of company, physical touch, having someone by his side, someone whose arms he could fall into every night, someone whose world revolved around him, someone who relished his world & the spotlight that came with it, someone he could show off to the world, someone who could deal with all the media/fan frenzy that would always follow him. Without that, he won’t be satisfied, not fully, and at some point he’d look outside for that satisfaction, for companionship, for sex.

Even in the last few months, she had felt parts of that irritation and dissatisfaction in him, while she was in the same city. A part of her hadn’t been able to forget the despair she felt when she saw Jude’s picture on Christmas, and another part of her felt something like that was inevitable. Like it would come anytime now, and she won’t be able to take it the second time. Heck, she might even blame herself more this time.

Denise didn’t ask what that line meant. She had pieced parts of it together from everything she had heard about her from the boys, and her face was also telling its own story right now.

‘Have you spoken to him about this?’

‘In parts. On & off, when something or the other pops up. But not directly, no.’

‘Maybe you should.’

‘How? I don’t want to hurt him. I can’t. Really do love him.’

‘I know, dear.’

The heart-shaped locket Ananya was wearing was proof of it. Of their love. Denise had the same one & she recognised it immediately. Jude had only given it to two people in his life.

‘But telling him later would hurt him more.’

Ananya squeezed her eyes shut in pain, and Denise scooted closer to her on the bench, her hand still squeezing Ananya’s.

‘Look, you don’t have to do anything immediately. But at some point, you need to address the elephant in the room. It would eat away at you both otherwise.’

Ananya could only nod in response, the lump in her throat not letting any words come out.

‘Till then, best to not rush into anything.’

‘W-what do you mean?’

‘You know, like, you guys are young and….I can see how you are with each other. Don’t let a weak, vulnerable moment have serious life consequences….for either of you.’

Was she just getting sex talk from her boyfriend’s mother? To not rush into a….marriage….or a child???

Denise could see the mix of embarrassment and shock on Ananya’s face. But it needed to be said. The closeness they had, anything could happen. They were like pieces which weren’t even from the same board but somehow interlocked perfectly. Like magnets. Something she couldn’t articulate but felt deep in her heart every time she saw them together.

Ananya wanted the ground to split and swallow her whole. Now was a good time to run away, coz she couldn’t believe what had just happened with her. And she did run away, after thanking Denise for her counsel.

She ran straight to Jude. He was in bed, half drowsy, but his face lit up when she walked in. He lifted the blanket, inviting her in and she rushed to settle in next to him, letting him hug her close, burying her face into his chest.

‘That was some chat, yeah?’

‘I think your mom just gave me the talk.’

She was still in shock. And Jude just laughed loudly in her ear.

‘What?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘To not let me knock you up?’

‘Pretty sure that’s what she was hinting at.’

‘Unreal. And she spoke to you about this, not me?’

‘Maybe she thought I’d take her more seriously on this.’

‘Yeah, possible. But that’s funny. No wonder you look so red.’

Jude tilted his head to kiss her cheeks and she sighed at the comfort of it.

‘Dad gave me the same talk by the way.’

‘WHAT? When?’

‘Last night. I just laughed it off. But mom? Wow. Can they not see we are kids ourselves?’

‘You are.’

‘Ouch. But yeah, you are older I guess.’

She smacked his chest with force.

‘By 2 months. Shut up.’

‘It’s cool. I like older women.’

‘You are such a juvenile. And they thought I’d let you get me pregnant? Nonsense.’

Jude whispered slowly, playfully in her ear.

‘Not now. But one day, you will. One day, I’ll put babies in here.’

She froze. Her skin turned cold at those words. Alarming him.

‘Heyy heyy I was kidding. Pls don’t freak out.’

She sat up in bed, throwing the blanket away.

‘Ananya - look at me. C’mon. Forget what I said, was just messing with you.’

He rubbed her arms & back, but she scooted away, setting some distance between them on the bed.

‘It’s too much. It’s too hard…Jude…’

‘Baby, what’s happening?’

‘Are you happy?’

‘What?’

‘Are you happy with me? Honestly?’

Jude stared at her incredulously, trying to figure where she was going with this. Did she really need to ask him?

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too. But….’

‘I AM happy. Aren’t you?’

‘I am…for now…but…’

‘But what? What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?’

‘It’s not all of a sudden. You know what I’m talking about.’

Her voice was barely a whisper now, and it scared the living daylights out of him.

Yes, he knew. All those little unsaid things between them that seemed unsurmountable, he had felt them too. Both had tried to brush them under the carpet. But it was all bubbling over now in a cruel way.

But letting her pull away was not an option. He reached for her, grabbing her arms, pulling her close, despite her protests.

‘We can work it out.’

‘HOW? I may have to leave in a few months for my MBA. And I want to, I really do. It’s my dream, my family’s dream. It’s all I have been working for since I was a kid. It’s why I have studied so hard. Can’t give it up Jude, can’t do that to myself or my family.’

Funny thing was, a part of her did want to give it all up, just to stay with him. And that scared the shit out of her.

‘I know.’

A part of him wanted to keep her back in Madrid too, by his side, selfishly, but he was starting to see it wasn’t possible. And it wasn’t right.

She slumped against him, speaking in whispers again, and he held her gently, like a delicate precious object.

‘Between you & my career - I don’t know how to do justice to both.’

Jude was trying hard to be strong for both of them. To not break down right now. But it was killing him from the inside. The thought of waking up knowing she wasn’t his anymore was so terrifying that he had compartmentalised this in his head, even though her going away had been on the horizon more & more.

‘And it’s not just that - we’re so different. I don’t know if I can really make you happy. If I can be….who you want me to be…I….’

Theirs was a clash of sensibilities, of moral compasses, of cultures, of core beliefs.

‘Shhhhh baby, baby, you make me so happy you have no idea. Can never put it into words what you do to me. You make me a better person. I love you. I love you so much, dove.’

Tears came down her cheeks, breaking his heart into pieces, but he let her soak his jumper with it.

‘Look at me. C’mon love, look at me.’

He cupped her cheeks, tilting her face up.

‘Here’s what we are going to do. No big decisions for now. Nothing that gets us like this. No need to go public or anything. Let’s just do what we are doing, what’s working for us.’

‘But that’s not what you want….you want to go public….you want more…’

‘Not at the cost of you. Not if I can’t come home to you anymore. Do you get that?’

She nodded slowly.

‘One step at a time. Nothing too drastic. We have 4 months before you leave, yeah? Let’s just make the most of it. Move in with me, if that’s not too scary for you. Let’s just stick to each other. And when you do leave, we’ll find a way to make it work if we want it that much. I know we can.’

She wanted to believe him, so so badly. But life just didn’t work like that.

‘It’s not so easy. You’re saying that now but….when I’m not around…will you….Jude I can’t take another incident like that I just can’t. It’ll break me.’

‘I know. And can you see why it won’t happen? Because I know that would be the end of us. You will never forgive me again. It’s not easy. No one said it would be easy. But tell me this - would you not have moved heaven & earth to be with your ex, no matter the challenges, the differences, instead of giving it all up?’

‘Y-yes.’

‘So why not now?’

Because life had taught her it wasn’t a bed of roses. She knew that now. She wasn’t that naive girl from earlier.

‘Is it because you….loved him more…than me?’

The crack in his voice hurt her in ways she didn’t even know was possible. Ananya reached desperately for his face, cupping his cheeks, kissing him all over.

‘No babu. Don’t ever say that. It’s not true.’

‘Then let me love you. Let me show you I’m not the same person anymore. Destiny & fate & distance can fuck right off - if you’re with me, if you trust me then we’ll make it. Remember I told you not being with you is not an option? It’s true. I won’t know what to do with myself. You’re my whole heart, I’m obsessed with you, I need you. And I’ll keep loving you till you love me the same way.’

‘I do love you the same way.’

‘Then show me. Fight for us. Don’t ever think of pulling away. Don’t leave me, Ananya.’

‘Oh Jude.’

They reached for each other at the same time, lips crashing together. She didn’t know whether she pulled him on top or he pushed her down, but there he was, kissing her like his life depended on it, pressing her into the mattress. Both channeling their love & desperation into the frantic kiss.

Ananya didn’t stop him when his hands reached under her clothes, pulling them off. She couldn’t. Because she needed to feel his love, his reassurance, just all of him. And Jude would have cried if she tried to take that away from him. Quite literally.

‘Just….make me forget this baby….just wanna remember you.’

‘Gladly.’

He lived up to his promise. In all his kisses and caresses and praises, she was transported to a different world. Their world. Where nothing else mattered. Just him & her. And it was enough. It had to be enough. They’d will it to be enough.

‘Say yes, Ananya.’

She didn’t know what he was asking for, or what all he was asking a yes for. But she wanted to give it to him. She wanted to give him everything.

‘Yes.’

‘My sweet dove.’

‘My beautiful prince.’

‘I love you.’

‘I love you more.’

‘Not possible.’

It was too soon to think of growing old together, so they decided to grow up together. Taking on the world together and everything it threw at them. One step at a time.

...................................................................

Well, there you go! 17k words. The end of Star Crossed Lovers.

I don't even know how to begin thanking you for all the love you have given to this series, and to Jude & Ananya. What your messages have meant to me.

Thank you for waiting patiently for 2 months for this final chapter. For constantly motivating me & sending me good vibes. You've been the best readers, so you deserved a long-ass chapter to conclude this roller-coaster journey.

I'll be taking a break from writing now. But it's been such a ride with you guys.

And ofcourse, as always, I am chomping at the bit to hear your thoughts on this chapter. This was truly a labour of love, and the last one, so pls do share your thoughts extensively with me. I can not wait to hear you guys 💜

Thanks again!

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