#or that you haven’t been a part of since the beginning. and if you haven’t been whoo boy you better catch up!

[whosscruffylooking]

Militiae Species Amor Est II

Militiae species amor est - "Love is a kind of war."

Re-read Part I Now!

a/n: if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know in the comments!

warnings: // a small threat of violence is made between Iris and her partner, but no physical contact is made. canon typical violence.

word count: 4.2k

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You step cautiously into the grand halls of the estate, the place you once roamed as a little servant girl, where your bare feet had once echoed softly against the cold marble. The air is thick with the weight of memories, each one pressing heavily against your chest. This was the house where you had grown up, where you had once been invisible, and where your life had irrevocably intertwined with his.

A voice pulls you from your thoughts. It rings out, familiar and poised, yet carrying a tension you haven’t heard before.

“Iris. It has been quite some time.”

You turn sharply, your breath catching as you face Lucilla, the mistress of this house—and the mother of the man you’ve spent a lifetime aching for. She stands before you, as elegant and commanding as you remember, her beauty untouched by the years. For a moment, you falter, caught between the awe she still inspires and the fury simmering just beneath your surface. But there’s no time to linger on reverence. Not now.

“We need to help Lucius escape,” you say, your voice steady despite the fire raging in your chest.

Lucilla’s expression hardens, her posture as composed as ever. “You are in no position to plot something like this. An engaged woman. A woman of low birth who has risen to a place of promise.” She steps closer, her gaze piercing, as if to drive the point deeper. “It isn’t safe for you.”

Her words land like a blow. You bristle, your hands curling into fists at your sides as anger floods through you. “You mean to insult me? When you know—when you must know—that I have loved your son since childhood?” Your voice rises, trembling with the weight of years left unspoken. “Do you truly believe that I could ever forget him? Forget the way we laughed, the way we cried, the way you sent him away as if he were nothing but an inconvenience? I have not had a single night of peaceful rest since that day! Not one!”

Lucilla’s carefully composed mask cracks, but you don’t stop. The words pour out, sharp and unrelenting. “And you? As his mother, do you feel nothing? No anguish, no torment? Or do you simply find it easier to look away, to let him suffer alone? Now he’s here—he’s here, Lucilla—and you expect me to sit back, to watch him fight the same fight that took his father from him? With no attempt to save him, no attempt to shield him from even more pain?”

The silence that follows feels deafening. For a moment, Lucilla looks at you as though she’s been struck. Her lips part, trembling with words that won’t come. Then, to your shock, her face crumples, and tears begin to spill down her cheeks.

She crosses the space between you in an instant, wrapping you in an embrace that is both unexpected and suffocating. Her voice shakes as she speaks. “I subjected one child to a life of pain. I—I couldn’t bear to see you suffer the same. Don’t you see? I’ve only ever wanted you to find peace, Iris. Contentment. That’s why—” She pulls back, her hands gripping your shoulders tightly. “That’s why when Caius’ father approached me, I agreed. I thought he could give you the life you deserved, one free of sorrow. I never meant to make you feel betrayed.”

You push her hands away, stepping back as the weight of her confession settles over you like a leaden cloak. “Peace?” Your voice is bitter, sharp as broken glass. “Do you truly believe I could ever find peace without him? All I ever wanted was your son. Not your pity. Not a life designed to ease your guilt.”

Tears well in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You straighten your spine, your voice unwavering. “If you truly cared about me, you would have sent me with him. Instead, you left us both to live lives filled with nothing but longing and regret. So save your excuses, Lucilla. If you truly care now, then tell me—” Your voice hardens, each word a command. “Tell me the plan to rescue Lucius.”

And she does. Through trembling breaths and tear-filled eyes, Lucilla tells you the plan—how her husband, Acacius, will orchestrate Lucius’s escape from the prison. She explains the carefully laid steps, each one steeped in risk, each one reliant on precision. But there’s one missing piece.

“Someone needs to warn him,” she says, her voice wavering as she meets your gaze. “He has to know what’s coming, or he’ll resist. He won’t trust it.”

The moment hangs heavy between you, her words an unspoken plea. You don’t hesitate.

“I’ll do it,” you say firmly, the fire in your chest burning brighter now. “I’ll warn him.”

Lucilla’s eyes widen, her lips parting as if to protest, but you shake your head, cutting her off before she can speak.

“No one else knows him like I do,” you continue. “He’ll listen to me. He’ll trust me.”

For a moment, Lucilla studies you, her expression a war between doubt and something that almost looks like hope. Then, finally, she nods, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her choice.

“Be careful,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. But you’re already turning away, your mind focused on one thing: reaching Lucius.

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The corridors of the barracks stretch before you like an endless void, every shadow a whisper of your guilt, every creak of the stone beneath your feet a reminder of what you stand to lose. Wrapped in a dark cloak, the cool air bites at your skin, but the ache in your chest burns hotter. You cling to the cover of night as you make your way toward Ravi, a gladiator-turned-medic who once saved soldiers from the edge of death. Tonight, you hope he’ll save you in a different way.

When you reach his room, you knock softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Ravi.”

The door creaks open, his wary eyes scanning the hall before they settle on you. “What are you doing here?” he hisses. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near this place.”

“I won’t tell you the details,” you reply quickly, your voice trembling. “If anyone questions you, I don’t want you to lie on my behalf. All I ask is that you point me toward Hanno—let me speak with him privately.”

Ravi’s expression hardens, torn between caution and compassion. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he nods. “You shouldn’t do this,” he murmurs, but he leads you through the labyrinthine halls. When he stops outside a cell, his voice is heavy with warning. “He’s in here. Be quick.”

Ravi pushes the door open slightly, just enough for the man inside to hear. “Someone is here to see you, Hanno,” he announces.

Lucius turns at the sound of his name, his face hardening the moment he sees you. His jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing before he looks away sharply. “I have nothing to say to her,” he bites out, his voice rough, almost broken.

Your heart twists painfully at his words, but you nod at Ravi, signaling for him to let you in anyway. He hesitates, but when he sees the determination in your eyes, he steps back, locking the door behind you as you slip into the dimly lit cell.

Lucius stands with his back to you, his hands balled into fists at his sides. His silence is deafening, but you don’t let it deter you. You step closer, the ache in your chest swelling with every step. Tears sting your eyes as you finally find the words you’ve been rehearsing in your mind since the moment you decided to come here.

“I cannot begin to express how sorry I am,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “For how I treated you. For what I said.”

He doesn’t move, but you can see the slight tension in his shoulders. You press on, desperate to reach him.

“I never should have assumed you would return to this place—to the pain, to the life you’ve fought so hard to escape—and risk everything for the very place that destroyed your family. It was selfish of me to ask, selfish to think I had that right. I suppose these emotions, these feelings I’ve tried so hard to bury, have clouded my judgment.”

His breathing slows, the air between you thick with words left unsaid. You take another step, your voice breaking now.

“But know this, Lucius: you are far more than just a gladiator. Even before I saw you in those cursed games, you were so much more to me. You always have been. You were the boy who gave me his last piece of bread when I had nothing. The boy who made me laugh when the world felt too heavy. The boy whose soul captured mine long before I knew what love even was.”

His shoulders slump slightly, and though he doesn’t turn, you see his hand tremble. The silence stretches, heavy with everything you’re too afraid to ask. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, raw with pain.

“And yet you stood there, questioning who I was,” he murmurs. “Doubting the choices I made to survive. Do you know what it’s like to have someone you love look at you as though you’re a stranger?”

The words cut deep, sharp as any blade, and tears spill down your cheeks. You move closer, desperate to bridge the distance, to close the chasm that has grown between you.

“I was wrong,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I was so wrong. But I swear to you, Lucius, I have never stopped seeing the boy you were. And I will never stop loving the man you’ve become.”

Lucius stares at you, his eyes swimming with emotions too tangled to name. The air between you crackles, heavy with unspoken words and the years of longing that have built into this single, fraught moment. You search his face for a sign that your words have reached him, that the wall he’s built is beginning to crumble.

Lucius's gaze burns into yours, his expression a tempest of anguish and desire, before he moves. His hands are on you in an instant, rough but careful, as though he's afraid you'll vanish if he doesn't hold tight enough. He presses you against the cold, damp wall of the cell, the chill of the stone seeping through your cloak and biting into your skin. It's grounding, sharp against the heat that erupts between you as his lips claim yours.

The kiss is everything you've imagined and nothing like it all at once-wild, desperate, and unrelenting. His hands frame your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if to memorize the feel of you. His lips are firm, demanding, pouring years of suppressed longing into the kiss. You can feel his ragged breaths mingling with yours, and the faint taste of salt from your shared tears lingers between you.

Your hands find his chest, trembling as they trace over the worn fabric of his tunic and the hard planes of his body. His heart is pounding beneath your palms, as wild and erratic as your own. When your fingers curl into the fabric to pull him closer, he growls low in his throat—a sound that sends a shiver racing down your spine.

The cold wall presses unyieldingly against your back as he leans into you, his body a solid, unmovable force. The contrast of cold stone and his scorching heat sets your senses ablaze. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as if he could somehow fuse the two of you together, and the pressure of his touch ignites a fire that consumes you whole.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you both struggle to catch your breath. His lips hover near yours, as though the distance is too much to bear, and his voice, rough and low, brushes over your skin.

 "Do you understand now?" he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. "Do you see what you've done to me? You've been the only thing keeping me alive, Iris. Even when I hated the world, I still loved you."

Your tears spill freely as you clutch at his tunic, your voice trembling. "I see it, Lucius. I see it, and I feel it, because l've loved you just as fiercely.”

He tilts your chin up, his dark eyes softening, and his thumb brushes tenderly across your jaw. "Then let there be no more fear," he whispers before capturing your lips again.

This kiss is softer but no less consuming, filled with a desperate hope that perhaps the two of you, against all odds, can still claim the love that's been waiting for so long.

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The sun blazes mercilessly as the crowd fills the arena, their cheers deafening and bloodthirsty. Your seat offers a clear view of the sand-covered pit, where the fighters enter with stoic faces and heavy chains. Among them is Lucius. Even in the sea of bodies, your eyes find him instantly.

He walks with his head held high, his shoulders squared. You can see the fire burning in him now—a determination that wasn’t there before, knowing that people are ready to rescue him. The weight of hope, of knowing freedom waits just beyond the reach of this hellish stage, has reignited something in him. Yet, the sight of him under the watchful eyes of guards and the jeering crowd still twists your stomach with dread.

Your fiancé, Caius, sits beside you, oblivious to the storm raging within you. His hand rests possessively on your arm as if to remind everyone—and perhaps himself—of who you belong to.

When the fight begins, Lucius is relentless. His movements are sharper, faster, more focused than ever before. You watch in awe as he disarms one opponent and dodges another’s blade with a grace that feels almost otherworldly. But it’s not enough to calm your nerves. Every strike, every blow he lands only tightens the knot in your chest.

And then it happens. A spear slices across his shoulder, leaving a vivid trail of crimson in its wake. He stumbles, his hand instinctively going to the wound, and for a moment, your world stops.

You stand without thinking, your breath catching in your throat. “Lucius,” you whisper, though the name escapes like a prayer rather than a call.

Caius turns sharply to you, his grip on your arm tightening. “What are you doing?” he hisses, his voice low but sharp. “Sit down, Iris.”

But you can’t. Your heart is pounding too loudly, drowning out his words. All you can see is the blood staining Lucius’s tunic, the grimace of pain that briefly flashes across his face before he forces himself back into the fight.

“Iris!” Caius snaps, his voice rising now. “This is unseemly. People are watching!”

You don’t care. The moment the fight ends and Lucius is escorted out, you wrench free from Caius’s grasp and run. His angry protests fade behind you as your sandals slap against the stone corridors leading to the medic chambers.

When you burst through the door, Ravi looks up in surprise. Lucius sits on a stool, blood dripping from his shoulder as Ravi prepares to clean the wound. His gaze snaps to you, and for a moment, he freezes, the stoic mask slipping to reveal something raw and unguarded.

“What are you doing here?” Ravi asks, his tone filled with warning.

But Lucius speaks first, his voice low and strained. “Iris.” Your name on his lips feels like both a question and an anchor.

You cross the room in a rush, ignoring Ravi’s protests and Lucius’s raised brow. “Let me,” you say softly, reaching for the cloth in Ravi’s hand. Your fingers tremble as you press it against the wound, but you don’t flinch.

Lucius watches you, his gaze piercing. “You shouldn’t be here,” he murmurs, but there’s no anger in his voice—only concern.

“And you shouldn’t be out there,” you reply, your voice breaking. “But here we are.”

His hand rises, hesitating for a moment before it brushes against yours, smearing your skin with his blood. “I’ll be fine,” he says, though his eyes betray him.

“No, you won’t,” you whisper, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Not if I lose you.”

Ravi clears his throat awkwardly, stepping back. “I’ll give you two a moment,” he mutters, leaving the room.

Lucius exhales shakily, his gaze never leaving yours. “Iris, you have to be careful. If Caius—”

“Let Caius think what he will,” you interrupt, your voice trembling with conviction. “I won’t sit by and do nothing while you suffer.”

In the space of a breath, his restraint snaps. "Damn Caius," he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse, just before his lips capture yours.

The kiss is wild and desperate, like a clash of wills—a battle neither of you is willing to lose.

His hands tighten around your waist as yours tangle in his hair, the metallic taste of blood faint on his lips, a reminder of the wounds he's endured. He kisses you with the fervor of a man who's fought too long to deny what he feels, each movement urgent and unyielding.

He lifts you onto the nearby table, the rough wood cold beneath your legs as papers and tools clatter to the ground, forgotten. You gasp against his mouth, but he doesn't falter, his body pressing into yours as if to prove something-to you, to himself, to the world that's tried to keep you apart.

Outside, the sound of footsteps halts, followed by a frustrated sigh. Ravi's voice mutters something inaudible, and you know he's standing there, trying to give you privacy while also likely cursing your recklessness.

Lucius pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the narrow space between. "This is madness," he whispers, his voice rough and thick with emotion.

"Then let it be madness," you reply, your voice just as unsteady. Your hands trail down to his face, cupping his jaw as your thumbs brush over his cheekbones. "Because l'd rather have this moment than a lifetime of silence."

His lips crash against yours again, the kiss even fiercer than before, as though he's pouring all the words he can't say into the connection. His hands linger around your thighs, gradually pushing the hem of your dress higher and higher up your leg.

“Lucius, I—” Ravi’s voice cuts through the haze, and you pull back abruptly, your chest heaving.

Lucius turns toward the door, his body instinctively shifting to shield you from Ravi’s view, though it’s already too late. Ravi stands in the doorway, his face a mixture of disbelief and exasperation.

“I left you alone for mere minutes,” Ravi mutters, crossing his arms as his eyes dart between the two of you.

Heat rises to your cheeks, but you hold your ground, refusing to shrink beneath his gaze. “I was helping,” you say, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you.

“And clearly you’ve been very thorough in your assistance,” Ravi replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Lucius steps forward, his voice low but firm. “Enough, Ravi. You’ve said your piece.”

Ravi exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If anyone finds out about this, it’s not just you two who’ll pay the price. Keep that in mind.” He turns on his heel, muttering something under his breath as he leaves.

The door clicks shut, and silence settles over the room once more. Lucius looks at you, his eyes clouded with both regret and longing. “I’ll deal with him,” he says softly, though his hand lingers at your side, as if reluctant to let you go.

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The door slams shut behind you as you step into the quiet of your home, the night air still clinging to your skin. Your heart is pounding in your chest, adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the events that transpired just moments ago. You barely have a chance to steady your breath before Caius appears in the hallway, his sharp gaze locking onto you as he takes in the sight of you—disheveled, hair slightly tousled, your dress still crinkled from the tension of the night.

“Where have you been?” His voice is low, controlled, but there’s an edge to it, an undeniable undertone of suspicion that you cannot ignore.

You swallow, forcing yourself to meet his eyes, a familiar lie already forming on your lips. “I was just out for a walk,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant, but there’s a slight quiver in your voice that betrays you.

Caius takes a slow step forward, his eyes narrowing, scanning you with unsettling precision. He glances down at your dress, and for a split second, his gaze lingers on a small stain of blood near the hem. His face hardens.

“That doesn’t look like the mark of a walk,” he says, voice tight with suspicion. “Where did you get this from?”

You freeze. The blood—it wasn’t from you, but from the hurried touch you had shared with Lucius. His words echo in your mind, Damn Caius. You can feel the weight of that kiss, the dangerous closeness, and the desperation in his touch. It lingers in your skin, like a brand that you can’t erase.

“Nothing happened,” you lie again, your heart racing in your chest. You want to scream, to tell him the truth, but fear clamps down on your throat. “I helped Ravi again, like I used to.”

Caius isn’t fooled. His eyes flicker with recognition, and before you can take another breath, he’s stepping toward you, his hand gripping your wrist tightly. “Tell me the truth,” he demands, his voice low and threatening. “You’ve been with him, haven’t you? The Eagle of Rome.”

The mention of Lucius sends a shock of panic through you, freezing you in place. No—you try to deny it, but the truth is already written across your face. “I haven’t—” you start, but the words falter. You try to pull your wrist free, but his grip tightens, pulling you closer.

“Don’t lie to me,” he growls, his voice a razor’s edge, the anger seeping through each word. His fingers are like iron, digging into your skin as he pulls you toward him. “I saw the way you looked at him in the stadium.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your pulse quickening as the weight of his accusation hits. Lucius—the name lingers like a forbidden prayer. “I was helping all of the warriors today. I promise you, I didn’t even touch him,” you snap, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and guilt, but the words feel hollow, like a lie you want to believe but can’t.

“Stop!” Caius interrupts, his voice rising now, each word thick with rising fury. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? That I haven’t seen how you’ve been sneaking around? How you’ve been lying to me?”

His words hit you like a slap. In an instant, his frustration boils over, his anger flaring in his eyes. He moves toward you, forceful and sharp, and you stumble back into the wall, trying to escape his grasp. You gasp, your heart pounding as you try to steady yourself.

But before you can recover, Caius is right there, his face inches from yours, his breath ragged with fury. “You have no idea what kind of reproach you’re bringing against our family,” he spits, his voice dangerously quiet now. “Your actions make us a mockery. The choices you’ve made—make us look like fools.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, your heart aching in your chest. His words cut deeper than you expected, and guilt rises in your throat. He’s right—this has always been the choice, between him and Lucius. Between duty and love. But you couldn’t let go—not when Lucius needed you, not when you were the only one who could do something for him.

“Let me go, Caius,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, as if asking for the smallest mercy. “Please.”

But there’s no mercy in his eyes now. Only betrayal, and the realization that whatever it is that’s come between you, whatever feelings you’ve tried to bury, are on the cusp of release. He stares at you, and for a moment, you think you see something softer in his gaze—but it’s fleeting. He lets out a jagged breath, his grip still tight on your wrist.

“I never wanted this,” he mutters, almost to himself. “But I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

You don’t know what to say to that, because you feel the same way. Every word from his lips is a weight pressing you into the wall, and yet, you can’t escape it.

“Clean yourself up,” Caius says, stepping back. His eyes linger on you, raw and unrelenting. “And can’t stand the sight of you right now.”

Caius turns away, his shoulders tense with unresolved anger, and the silence between you stretches, thick with unspoken truths. As he walks out, leaving you standing alone in the dimly lit room, you feel the weight of the choice you’ve made—and the painful certainty that nothing will ever be the same again.

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tag list: @willowpains

[bioticlaw]

Faith in Desolation

IL CAPITANO X GN READER

A couple of days still feels like forever.

1,9k words // (soft) Yandere!Capitano, unhealthy relationships, Stockholm Syndrome, drugging, anxiety, MC is needy. // just wanted to try to explore vulnerability and getting out of my comfort zone!

CROSS-POSTED ON AO3

There is not much of your past you can remember.

You see blurred figures and silhouettes. You hear muffled words and hushed voices. You feel ghostly touches on your skin and sometimes phantom pains, but you remember nothing. You don’t remember the dreams you had or the youth within you. All of it is mere vignettes, corrupted tapes, and in realms leagues away from where you are. It used to bother you, not knowing all of your past.

Who were you before him?

The question drifts back to you like waves crashing against the shore, always returning no matter how much you wish it would disappear into the horizon. Harsh winds quiet every name you’ve ever remembered, and thick fog covers every face you’ve ever seen. You feel that your past no longer belongs to you, that it is a different life in its entirety, one you had never been in control of. The name everyone used to call you is no longer yours, and it has died alongside the husk of your old self.

What he calls you now—his and entirely his, is more than enough of a reminder that you belong somewhere. That you belong to someone, mind, body and soul; loved at your worst and your best.

Scars and ink mar your skin, born out of impulse and recklessness you once possessed. You’re the farthest thing from a porcelain doll; you’ve bent and broken, gone through tumultuous times by yourself. But the Captain treats you like a fragile little thing that can shatter at the slightest misstep. The same hands that have created death and violence are the same hands that caress your skin with love.

To be held so tenderly by a man so dangerous—it is all you’ve ever wanted, and it is all you’ll ever need from someone.

You stare out the window into the snowy plains of Snezhnaya and wordlessly watch the snow fall into place. It is warm inside his quarters, significantly so that you don’t have to wear multiple layers, but you can still feel the winter oozing through the walls. He isn’t home for you to crawl into his lap like an affectionate feline. He hasn’t been home for a couple of days now, having left for an operation ordered by the Tsaritsa.

Solitude isn’t entirely an unfamiliar concept. You’ve been an outcast and isolated for the majority of your life, never approached by any curious passers-by or bright-eyed people who wanted to be friends. You’ve grown to find comfort in the state of being alone. But now that you finally have someone to belong to—a permanent pillar in your life, a prominent presence you’d never dare to get rid of—the feeling of loneliness has grown much stronger.

He’s been writing you letters since he left. Some words to remind you that he still expects to see you at home, that he’s safe, and that he will return as soon as he can. Unfortunately, there haven’t been any new letters as of late, and it’s hard to keep the irrational voices in your head at bay. You want to write back, to tell him everything you’ve been holding inside your heart, but you can’t. It would put your safety in jeopardy, he says. You have not been outside of Snezhnaya in a very long time, but you trust every word Capitano says about the dangers lurking in the dark.

The winter makes it all worse. In an empty and quiet home that overlooks the bleak scenery of ice and snow, what used to be a vibrant world has turned dull. You rock yourself back and forth on the chaise, mind racing as fast as light. Capitano wouldn’t lie to you. He never has, and he won’t begin now. But a small part of your weary brain asks what if? What if he lies about how he wishes to have you in his arms again? What if he lies about how every flower he comes across reminds him of you? What if he’s putting on a façade to hide his wrath—to hide that he no longer loves you?

Your brittle fingernails sink deep into your skin as your hands start to tremble. You crave something sweet, the rush of warmth that flows down your throat and into your stomach. You crave contact, the comfort that comes from breathing in the same air as a loved one. You’ve never felt more alone, and the more you think of it, the faster you begin to spiral. Days have passed since you’ve had to be without him. Every insecurity wraps around your heart with its thorns and tightens, making you start to lose the rhythm of your breathing.

You grow increasingly aware of yourself. You are becoming too aware of yourself, and yet, there is nothing you can do that will stop it all. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, chapped and dry from the unforgiving cold. The darkness grows stronger and surrounds you in its gloom, and the thick fog renders you completely ignorant of the sound of the door opening. The silence remains your only companion before a deep timbre sounds in the room, forcing you out of your sullen state.

“I’m home.”

The familiar voice you’ve been missing makes you leap out of your seat and into his arms, burying your face into the soft fur of his coat. Here he is, your beloved, your saviour, safe and sound and home. Tears well up in the corners of your eyes before they start flowing in rivulets, sobs escaping your lips as you struggle to regain your composure. You feel his clawed hand lightly support you in his hold, allowing you to lay in his arms more comfortably.

Drowsily, you mumble, “You forgot about me.”

“I can’t hear you, little one.”

Your bottom lip juts into a pout and you toy with the fur of his coat with your fingers, eyes downcast. His chest rises and falls with a sigh, though it’s not one of fatigue. It’s a noise of understanding—his response when words fail you.

Your sobs die down into quiet sniffles instead as the final teardrop slides down your cheek. Your arms are wrapped around his neck in greed and desperation, unwilling to let go even for a split second.

“Look at me.”

Pettiness seeps into your system, your impulses making you ignore his soft command while your brows furrow together in petulance.

He says your name, firmly this time, and repeats himself, “Look at me.”

Tearily you do, hesitantly pulling your face away from his coat and staring into the abyss that is his mask, your bottom lip quivering as the tears threaten to fall once more. Is he angry at you? Has he finally tired of you? Where will you go once he’s discarded you? Will you end up lying among abandoned toys like Dottore and his servant’s segments, or will you be forced to return to a life of isolation?

“You look pale,” he comments, “Have you been taking your medicine?”

You nod numbly. Resting your head against his shoulder, your fingers slide down to toy with the buttons on his coat, keeping yourself grounded.

“Good,” Capitano says and hums in contentment. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Fear jabs into your heart. You don’t know how he’s going to react when you tell him the truth. Will he think you don’t trust him? You do, but the voices in your head always try to steer you into darker territory.

Still, you breathe, and with a quiet voice, you finally answer him, “I thought you left me.”

He takes another long sigh. Taking a seat on the couch, he places you on his lap and possessively wraps his arms around your waist, hand tenderly caressing your back. It almost reminds you of how a musician would strum an instrument’s strings. It’s familiar and comforting, taking you into a sense of safety and calm, but it’s not enough.

“You wouldn’t leave me, right?” You stare at him in urgency, your voice wavering as you slowly fall into hysterics. “I’ve been good, so you still love me, right? I… I haven’t broken any rules, I’ve been good, I’ve been—”

You never complete your sentence, breaking into a sob before hiding your face in the crook of his neck, trembling in his touch.

“Of course I do,” he says softly. “It’s upsetting that you still don’t trust me.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

With yet another sigh, he holds you closer to his chest. “Poor thing. You must’ve felt so alone.”

You respond with a tired grunt. You feel him moving beneath you, arm reaching out to grab something the best he can with you clinging to him. It doesn’t take long before he hands you a small bottle that you gingerly accept with shaky hands.

“Drink.”

Sweetness swirls on your tongue and warmth flows down your throat. You follow his order without question, fully trusting in his words and decisions. Discarding the bottle, he allows you to hold on to him for as long as you need, keeping you close in his protective touch.

His good little pet—so compliant, so needy.

“I just wish you could take me with you,” you murmur after a beat of silence, stability returning to your voice.

“You’re safer here,” he replies. “No one can take you away from me.”

You frown. “Are you… mad at me?”

“No, I’m not.” His hand comes up to pat your head. “But I want you to trust me.”

Your eyelids flutter and your breathing slows as the world begins to blur at the edges. You don’t feel him staring down at you, watching how small and fragile you are in his arms, how weak and docile. His fingers drum against the small of your back while he’s deep in thought, trying to think of ways to keep you comforted for the duration of his next absence.

“When do you leave?” you ask meekly.

“Tomorrow,” he says. “Will you be good and wait for me?”

You hum, your limbs growing heavier as your grip around him loosens. “I will.”

“Good,” he echoes before getting up and carrying you to your bedroom where he gently lays you on the bed. He crouches down beside you, his hand cupping the side of your face in kind. “Do you remember your rules?”

“Don’t leave, don’t speak to anyone—” you interrupt yourself with a yawn. “Don’t trust the voices.”

Pleased, he caresses your cheek lovingly. “Good. You’re doing very well.”

You weakly reach for his hand and intertwine your fingers together before you pout and look up at him with a pleading gaze. Nervously, you ask again, “You’re not staying?”

“I can, until the morning.”

You’re slowly drifting away, barely registering the sound of him getting in bed beside you. He carries you and places you on his lap once more, urging you to lean into him before you slumber. You briefly hear the sound of pages turning before you feel the vibrations in his chest as he reads out loud to you, lulling you into feeling safe and sound. He will be gone the next time you open your eyes, leaving the place pristine like he had never been here, but for him, you’ll keep waiting. Being obedient is the best way to support him.

As long as you behave, he’ll continue to love you and keep you sheltered away from the cruel world, unhurt and unharmed.

[syntheticavenger]

Let Him Loose (Preview)

As promised, here is a preview of what I am working on. A slow build to be sure but it's been a while since I posted something and I'm still working on closing up some fics but life has been extremely busy!

I'll also be responding to those in my inbox - I didn't forget you, I promise!

Dennis Baker x Female Reader

Word Count: 925

Warnings: None for now, just some world building.

-

He keeps his eyes on the road, lifting a shaky hand to bring the insulated mug to his lips, swallowing down a sip as an 80’s synth pop song plays faintly in the background. Dennis has always been a nervous sort but today he’s much worse for wear, talkative at first about his new promotion until the city became a distant past, the highway stretching longer than before, his silence almost unnerving. His fingers grip the steering wheel tight, a cheerful commercial breaking through as you strain to listen to it.

“Come on down to Delilah’s Discount Deals! Where there’s something for everyone,” the upbeat spokesperson invites before the music starts again.

Enough is enough.

Your boyfriend’s jaw is clenched so tight that you wonder if he’ll break a tooth, placing your hand on his over the gear shift as he looks down under his clear framed glasses.

“Hey,” you begin, seeing him smile for a scant second. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he answers, his eyes going back on the road. “Why?”

“Because you’ve barely said two words since we left?”

“Sorry. Just got a lot on my mind.”

His phone alerts with another incoming text message and then another before he exhales loudly.

“She won’t let up,” Dennis says forlornly. “I’m driving as fast as I can. Why they need me there before tomorrow is ridiculous, it’s not like we’re part of their plan.”

He accelerates slightly, your fingers pressing into the plush leather armrest as he begins to slow.

It’s not a secret that he doesn’t want to see his family for the holidays. He’s been putting it off for months – years even – but a promotion, even one that he had excitedly told his parents, had been a cause for a celebration that ended up becoming mandatory, by his family offering to host you both for the holiday, not taking no for an answer.

There’s not much you know about his family. Ever since you started dating, he’s been careful to navigate how he speaks about them to you. It wasn’t the best upbringing, that much you know as he’s shared that much. He grew up poor, bullied for his glasses and calm demeanor, ostracized for leaving the small town he grew up in for a scholarship for college and never looking back, let alone to visit. His parents, Dennis had told you, were proud people – proud of who they were and where they came from.

It was obvious that Dennis didn’t agree and knowing how stressed he was, it didn’t make sense for you to push the issue, not when you knew that topic is one he still tries to avoid.

“We don’t have to go,” you speak up, Dennis shaking his head slowly, eyes still on the road.

“That won’t go over well. Just better to get it over with.”

“Dennis,” you admonish, seeing him reach for his coffee again. “They’re your parents.”

“I know. They’re gonna love you, you know.”

As much of a comfort as that gives you, it’s the sadness in his voice that almost feels envious. Still, you don’t press, quietly looking at the window as the trees whizz past.

“You don’t seem excited.”

“I’m not,” he answers matter-of-factly, picking up his phone to glance at the text message before he places it back down, a look of dread appearing on his features.

“What is it?”

“My brother will be there.”

“Oh?” you ask, watching him take another gulp of coffee. “You haven’t seen him in a while, right? Sounds like a family reunion.”

“I wouldn’t call it that but sure.”

“What’s your brother like?” you ask, trying to get him to open up. Whatever the text message was, it didn’t please Dennis in the slightest, seeing him turn the phone face down in the cup holder.

“The favorite.”

“The favorite?” you repeat, Dennis still looking straight ahead, his fingers flexing slightly.

“Yeah.”

That’s all the response you will get, you realize, Dennis giving a short shrug. You know nothing about his brother, only that he has one, something muttered when you were first starting to date but the subject was dropped quickly.

“He’ll like you,” he says, almost bitterly. “You’ll like him too.”

“How do you know?”

You sound accusatory but you don’t mean it. Dennis seems so resolved that he’ll be cast aside that you find yourself getting defensive, as if he doesn’t believe you won’t be on his side.

“Because he’s the rugged type. I’ve seen the books you read,” Dennis chides with a slight smile that is gone before you can appreciate it. “He’s like that.”

“Books are books, they aren’t you,” you remind him, flashing him a smile. “Those books don’t have your self-deprecating jokes, your thoughtfulness and care. You know that.”

He smiles finally – a real smile with a flash of pearly white teeth – before he settles back into his seat.

“Just promise one thing,” Dennis says after a short pause, slowing to look at you for a moment. “Stay inside when it starts to get dark when we get there. Probably a silly superstition but it’s important. Promise?”

You want to make a joke but you know better, especially with how serious Dennis has become again. You’ll ask your questions later, when he’s not so agitated.

“I promise,” you recite.

“Good,” he says with a sigh of relief. “My family loves their traditions, Ari even more so. Let’s just ease you in slow so you don’t get overwhelmed.”

“Who is Ari?” you ask.

“My older brother.”

[luminouslotuses]

i miss qsmp

[criminalamnesia]

that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.

love your writing btw!

thank you! here’s part two :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you were beginning to hate the infirmary.

the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.

the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.

your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.

you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.

his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.

you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.

fuck him and his apologies.

you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.

it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.

he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.

“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.

“can we talk? please?”

you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.

he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.

“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.

“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.

“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”

silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.

“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ‘em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.

“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.

simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.

simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.

“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”

he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.

he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.

your voice is full of venom as you speak.

“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”

price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?

to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.

“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”

the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.

he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.

after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.

but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.

you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.

but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.

price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.

simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.

there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.

he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?

simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.

and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.

he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.

he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?

you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.

so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.

a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.

you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.

the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.

how do you let something like this go?

you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.

once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.

so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.

you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.

you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.

time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.

now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.

you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.

“come in!” price called from inside.

you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.

your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.

and then you noticed simon.

he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.

the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.

you quickly turned your attention back to price.

“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.

“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.

the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.

“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.

“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”

the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.

“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.

he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.

“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.

“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”

you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?

you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.

“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”

with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.

author’s note:

apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)

[itgetzweird08]

“You shouldn’t be up this late”

Bakugo’s voice whispered, filling the silence in the dorm kitchen. He was right, and usually you weren’t. You valued your sleep, often being one of the first in the class to call it a night. But tonight was different. Your thoughts, your heart, were restless. Despite following your nighttime routine, which was curated specifically to help you wind down and rest, you still found yourself tossing and turning. Not even your ocean sounds could help you drift to sleep. Thats why when Bakugo spoke, you sighed heavily and let your shoulders droop.

“Yeah. I know.”

He took a few steps toward you, leaning against the countertop. “So what’s got you awake?” You shrugged at him, watching the water in the electric kettle begin to form small bubbles. “Dunno…just can’t sleep I guess.” You looked over to him, taking soft note of his tired eyes and disheveled hair. “And you? You aren’t usually awake at this time either.” He shrugged right back at you. “Dunno…can’t sleep I guess” he echoed your words, and it made you smile just a bit.

You both knew why the other was awake, or at least you both had some inkling. Between how the ambush attack played out and Midoriya running away, neither of you have had time to really process all of what has gone on. You haven’t had time to think about how your lives had been flipped one eighty. But since Midoriya was back safe and sound, and there was no real information on the League or their next move, everything was at a standstill. That meant your brain was finally coming up to speed on what had gone on recently…and it was overwhelming. It felt like your mind was in over drive, thinking so many thoughts at once that it was causing you to lose sleep.

“…There’s a lot of water in this kettle. Would you like some tea?” Bakugo didn’t answer, just walked over to the mug cabinet and grabbed both of your designated mugs. Yours had your hero insignia, and he had his. It was Nezu’s Christmas gift for all of the hero course students. Bakugo opened the tea drawer, grabbing you each a packet of sleepytime zen tea before walking back over to you. You worked in silence then, enjoying each other’s company as you made your own cups.

Your relationship with Bakugo was unique. You admired him, even when he was a bit of an asshole at the beginning of the school year. You’ve enjoyed watching him grow and working beside him as a teammate. You were inspired by his tenacity and drive. You liked how smart and witty he was, and how he could be funny even when he didn’t realize it. It also didn’t hurt that he was actually pretty cute. And all of the same things went for you in his eyes. He admired your kindness and your courage. He was inspired by the way you had such a big heart but you were no push over, standing up to him when he got too rough with his words or during training. In his eyes, it was like you were one of the only people to give him a chance, getting to know him past his rough exterior. You two had gotten closer during the year, training and studying together sometimes. You began to sit next to him for lunch, stealing small pieces of chicken from his plate while he stole beef from yours. You were the only one with that privilege. Eventually, you became this unlabeled, unspoken thing. You didn’t have to confess your feelings because he knew, and you knew how he felt about you even if he’s never admitted it.

You softly sipped your tea, allowing the warm liquid to run down your throat and causing you to sigh. He stirred his own cup, watching the spoon go around and around. Technically, there was nothing else for you two to do in the kitchen. Technically, you could’ve parted ways right here and drank your own cups in your rooms. But you couldn’t bear to leave him. Deep down, you both didn’t want to be alone tonight.

“Bakugo?” He looked up as you said his name. “Could I sleep over in your room tonight? I don’t think I want to be alone”

All he did was scoff, pick up his mug and began walking towards the staircase. When he realized you weren’t following, he scowled and turned to look at you.

“Let’s go brat. I’m missing out on my beauty sleep”

Part two

—————

Ps: im starting to do requests! So if you have an idea for me, go ahead and put it in my asks <3

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 3 | masterlist

-

It’s not unusual for someone to mistake you for the baby’s mama.

How could someone not, at least for a moment? When you take the baby to the grocery store, older people gush over him babbling in his stroller, eager to shower him with compliments in baby-talk or tell you how much you resemble the little tyke. After hearing the same comment for the umpteenth time, you tire of correcting people by saying you’re the babysitter only to watch their face fall, somewhat mortified and feeling as though their comment should’ve been directed to the baby’s actual mother. Which isn’t you. 

It’s less typical for someone to mistake you for John’s wife, though that does happen from time to time.

You’ve become a fixture around the neighbourhood since John hired you at the beginning of the summer, and over the weeks, the other nannies and the stay-at-home moms have started to gradually warm up to you. Before long, you’re being invited on coffee runs and playdates with some of the other women, always careful to ask for John’s permission before bringing his baby into a stranger’s house.

“Just text me the address and their names,” he requests while you stand awkwardly in front of him, John sitting on the bed to finish buttoning up his shirt and fixing his watch around his wrist. You would’ve been fine standing on the other side of the door while he finished changing, but he insisted on inviting you in.

“I will,” you promise, nodding along with his words.

“And call me if you don’t feel comfortable. I’ll come get the two of you right away if you need me.”

You swallow. Nod again.

The first time you take the baby for a playdate with a couple of the moms from the park, one catches you in the act of texting John the address of the house as he requested. “Hubby wants to know where you are, huh?”

“Oh,” you choke out, face heating up. “He’s not—”

“Not a control freak, I know. They’re all like that.” Her smile is ebullient, rolling her eyes like you’re in on a joke together when you most assuredly are not. “Why don’t you share your location with him? Mine’s the same way. Here—I’ll show you how.”

She takes your phone and tap-taps something and suddenly you see it in the notifications of your conversation with John. If you bite your lip instead of correcting her assumption about the nature of your and John’s relationship, that’s for you and you alone to know. Your rationale is that any explanation will just make things tense; it’s not like you haven’t seen it happen before. 

It’s far more concerning when John doesn’t correct those assumptions. Particularly when you’re standing right next to him. 

Like at the local water park on a particularly hot weekend, wading in the kiddy pool with the baby nestled tight against your chest in his little swim trunks and floppy hat only for an employee to ask John if his wife would like something to drink. 

“Iced coffee, love?” John asks, taking your stupefied silence as a yes. “Nothing for me, mate. Cheers.” 

Your head spins like a top on that thought until a good while later. The server hands you a glass of iced coffee with condensation already dripping down the sides and John thanks him for you, taking the baby from you and pulling you to his side. You drink your coffee quietly with your thigh flush with his under the water, gripping the glass harder when his free hand squeezes around your waist, laughing at something another parent said to him.

It’s so over for you. There’s no coming back from this. 

The sight of someone of John’s size, a bulky, military man with arms of pure steel dusted with dark hairs, cradling a tiny, chubby baby with a thatch of similar dark hair on his head and big cheeks and roly poly arms unlocks something primal in you. An old, buried need. 

In the family changing room, you stand under an ice cold shower until it breaks the fever slowly consuming you. All you can do is hope it takes. 

In the evening, you sit out on the porch with John at the back of the house until the crickets swell with song, the moon a half-crescent in the sky. A cool breeze makes your shoulders lift a little, huddling into your body to keep warm. 

It’s hard to keep your eyes on the view in front of you and off the man sitting beside you when they want so badly to be running over him. He’s changed out of his work clothes into a soft pair of sweatpants and an old threadbare shirt, the sage green fabric faded after years of being run through the washing machine. It clings to his biceps and the soft pudge of his stomach, a layer of fat over the hard muscle beneath. 

A cigarette dangles from his fingers, thick wrist perched on the arm of the adirondack chair. Every so often he lifts it to his lips for a puff, always breathing out in the opposite direction from you. Considerate of your health, at least, if not his own. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks before ashing his cigarette, and your bottom lip purses when you turn your head to look at him because you thought you were doing a good job suppressing your shivers. 

You stare at him, confused. He cocks an eyebrow at your questioning stare and deliberately glances down, waiting until you notice the way your nipples are protruding through your white tank top. You forgot that you’d taken your bra off earlier for a bit of relief and hadn’t yet had a chance to put it back on. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak, crossing your arms to hide as much as possible, humiliation flooding through you. “I’m so sorry—that’s so—I-I’m so sorry.”

John makes a rough sound when he rises to his feet, knees cracking as he does. “S’alright, hun. Lemme get you something to put on.”

The screen door creaks when he goes back inside briefly to fetch something only to come back a few seconds later with a big, cotton sweater that reeks of him. It looks well loved, some remnant of his younger years, and even from a distance, you can smell the distinct smoky aroma clinging to the fabric. 

When he kneels in front of you, you nearly go cross-eyed at the realisation that even on his knees, he’s as tall as you. The bulk of his waist forces your legs to spread around him. 

“C’mon, arms up,” John commands, barely waiting until you’ve raised your arms above your head before helping guide your head and arms into the right holes. 

Dragging the sweater down the way he does forces it to rub over your nipples, sending a shock through you. If you had any less self-control, your teeth might actually chatter together. 

“There we go,” he says, fluffing out the sweater around your waist before resting his hands on the tops of your thighs, the gesture coming so naturally to him that you doubt he’s even noticed the placement of his hands. “Much better. That’ll warm you up.”

He isn't wrong. You’ve already worked up a sweat. 

Late night rain.

It comes down in buckets, a dark slate rapping hard against the window pane. A bolt of lightning flickers across the horizon off in the distance. White striations across an otherwise dark sky. About thirty seconds later, thunder rumbles. 

You peek from between the blinds, chewing your lip nervously. You’ve never driven in rain this bad, but with supper done and the dishes washed, there’s no excuse for you to stay any longer. Still, the rain comes down so heavily that despite your timidity, you briefly contemplate asking John if you can stay a little longer. At least until it lets up a bit; until your headlights won’t blind you reflecting off the puddles on the drive home. 

Someone else pulls the blinds further apart.

“There’s no way in hell you’re going out in that,” John says from behind you, practically growling his words. Daring you to contradict him. 

You glance over your shoulder to find him right there at your back, staring out the window. He’s so close that you can smell the red sauce on his flannel from dinner and make out the flecks of grey in his beard that are almost masked by the darker hairs. 

“It’s not…that bad…”

“Sweetheart, don’t piss me off,” he warns.

The blinds shuttle back together with a clatter when you finally let go of them. 

“I could—I could take the couch,” you offer. 

“Sweetheart,” John sighs, looking down at you meaningfully.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“I’m not gonna take the big, comfy bed and leave you with the couch.” When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “And don’t even try arguing. I won’t hear it.”

There’s not much you can say to dissuade him after that. The furrow of his brow lets you know he’s made up his mind; no ifs, ands, or buts. Besides, there’s a not-so-secret part of you that’s relieved that you don’t have to drive home in this weather. You’re an average driver on a good day. You don’t need your last moments before shuffling off this mortal coil to involve hydroplaning on the highway before ramming into the guardrail. 

John gives you a shirt of his to change into for after your shower, which you spend far too long in, scrubbing your body with his shower gel and quivering under the warm water. When you pull it on, you bring the collar up to your nose to smell. The same patent smoky scent, musky like ambergris and leather. Intoxicating. It makes the blood rush through your ear like a conch shell, the ocean swirling behind your eardrum. 

You hadn’t asked for underwear, content at first to keep on the same pair, but after your shower, you cringe at the thought of putting your day-old panties back on. Besides, his shirt is long enough to cover anything indecent. 

He sits on the edge of the bed when you come out, the concern on his brow melting away at the sight of you. 

“Practically a dress on you, isn’t it?” John says, voice a little wondrous. His eyes drag over you, tip to toe. 

You fiddle with the ends of it. “…Are you sure you want me to take the bed?” 

“Wouldn’t be fair. It’s yours for the night.” His lips quirk up at the corners when you frown. “Don’t worry about me—I’ve slept in worse places before.”

“Like where?” you ask dubiously.

“Tents. Abandoned buildings. Shacks. In the back of a moving van a few times. You wouldn’t believe half the places we used to make camp. Definitely no place for pretty girls like you.”

His condescending tone vaguely annoys you, but it’s hard to dig into your irritation when he thumbs the edge of the shirt you’re wearing and you realise that he’s just a few raised inches away from noticing that you don’t have any panties on. You should’ve just put your old ones back on, but it’s far too late now. 

You clear your throat instead. “We could…um…we could share.” 

You don’t know what possesses you to offer to share the bed, but the words are already gone, out of your mouth and in the air. John cocks an eyebrow.

“Unless you don’t want to,” you amend. 

“Don’t know about that, sweetheart,” he rasps. “…I snore like a bear.”

“That’s okay. I’m a pretty deep sleeper.”

John scrutinises you a bit longer, looking for any sign of hesitancy. You know he’d squash your offer in a second if he found any wariness in your gaze. 

“Alright,” he finally concedes, letting go of your shirt and slapping his thighs. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you wake up and can’t fall back asleep because of my snoring.”

After his shower, during which you lie on your side facing away from the bathroom door, stomach fraught with nerves as you consider the fact that he’s naked in the ensuite, you hear him come out and rummage around in the dresser for a change of clothes. You lie beside him with your stomach twisted in knots, your hands shoved under the pillow and staring resolutely at the wall. 

The appropriateness of sleeping in the same bed beside your boss isn't lost on you, but you're too far into this now.

The bed dips when he settles onto the other side, and the sudden absence of light when he switches the bedside lamp off nearly makes you cheep. 

He breathes heavily, you notice, particularly when he finally falls asleep. It’s a deep, rumbling sound—not entirely unlike a bear, though you can’t really confirm that for certain seeing as how you’ve never slept beside a bear before. 

Those are the thoughts that would signal the approach of sleep if you weren’t soon to be engulfed by it. 

Sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to a rough hand stroking your back leisurely. There’s a hard chest under you, your cheek propped up on a pillowy pec that rises and falls with his breaths. Sleep bobs around in you like a toulouse decanter. You struggle to keep an eye open, certain that there’s something you need to tend to, but then his hand slides down your back again to curve over your rump and sleep drags you back down. 

You wake up again to your breath wafting back into your mouth, your face shoved into the crook of a man’s neck. Humid, hot. You’re lipping at the skin of his neck, little tongue darting out to lap up a bead of sweat, salty on your tongue. 

Your cunt pulses against his leg, toes curling when John drags his hand up your thigh and hitches it higher up around his waist. 

“Baby?” he groans, his voice still rusty from sleep. The sound is a rough burr up your spine. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. “Couldn’ get comfy.”

“You hot?” he asks.

The denial on the tip of your tongue slips back down your throat when he plants his foot on the bed and draws his leg up, pressing the meat of his thigh into your throbbing sex. 

“Here, lemme help you—” he groans, reaching down to ruck up your shirt, dragging it up over your breasts and helping manoeuvre your arms out of the holes. It gets tossed off the bed onto the floor. 

Now your breasts are flat on his chest, smushed against his ribcage. It registers somewhere in the back of your head as inappropriate, but sleep pushes that thought away, focusing instead on the discomfort of moving around when you just want to settle back down and go back to bed. 

It must be the heat making you act this way. 

“Shit—sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, shifting under you. “M’hot too.”

He plants a hand on your ass and heaves you up his chest, giving him enough room to wiggle out of his boxers. It pushes your breasts right into his face, your nipples mere inches from his mouth. When his tongue pokes out to wet his upper lip, it nicks your pebbled nipple. 

A hard length presses against your butt when you’re slid back down, the tip wet when it catches against your skin. 

“Jus’ ignore it, sweetie,” John mumbles, petting a hand down your back. 

You lie like that for a while, splayed over his body. Want simmering just under your skin. Flustered and exhausted all at once, sleep-drained; not a drop of strength in your muscles. 

The heat is just—

Scorching. Dizzying. You feel featherbrained, slipping in and out of sleep, biting off the whimpers that threaten to crawl up your throat when John tucks his hands into the crevice of your thighs to wrench them apart, spreading them around his hips again. 

Distantly, you remember that the man under you is at least twenty years your senior. Your employer at that. A man now palming your butt, sinking his fingers into the flesh and rumbling low in his throat. 

It’s wrong—flagrantly wrong. You know that you should say something, that you should get up and tell him that you’re going to sleep on the couch instead. But your tongue is too thick for your mouth. And your thoughts are a sticky paste. The pulse between your thighs empties out all the common sense from your head. 

His palms are slick on your skin. 

Your breathing grows shallow when a hard length suddenly pushes between your thighs as well. 

When the mushroomed head nudges at your opening, you flinch, heart thumping ferociously against your chest. 

“John—John—” you breathe, panicked. As if to warn him. As if he weren’t planting both feet on the bed and lifting his hips. 

As if it wasn’t his hands, warm on your waist, dragging you down onto the shaft spearing into you. 

Your blood is molten hot in your veins. Sticky hands and sticky fingers curl into his chest hair. Your head thumps against his pecs, too weak to hold it up, lipping at the damp skin of his chest. 

“It hurts—” you bleat, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. 

“I know, baby, I know,” John pants. He draws his hips back just to press forward again, deeper this time. Filling you up more than before. “I’m sorry, baby—I can’t, it’s just…too good. Shit.”

Resolve in tatters. Shattered like his willpower, like his determination not to fuck the girl twenty years his junior sleeping beside him in his bed. 

His hips pump up into yours, bouncing you in his lap. Each thrust plunging his cock deeper into your pussy. It’d be painful if you weren’t so wet, but you’re dripping, arousal making you leak around his shaft and slickening his way. 

Sleep still rattles around in your brain, but not even the fog of sleep can shake the ever intensifying realisation that you’re fucking your boss. No two ways around it—breasts naked against his hirsute chest; pussy wet and stuffed to the hilt with a big dick. Knocked senseless by it. 

The veins of his cock drag over the viscid walls of your cunt with every thrust. He must like the involuntary noises you make because he loses his rhythm when you cry out, growling out a string of unintelligible curses. His body feels bigger like this somehow, biceps and forearms bulging where they’re wrapped around your waist, hips forcing your legs to spread wide around him, the ache sinking deep into your muscle, into your bones.  

When you look up at him, his eyes are more hooded than usual, the blue of his irises so dark that they’re almost black. 

“Such a good girl,” he grunts, big arms like steel bands around your waist, holding you tight to his chest so you have nowhere to run. “Jus’ let…jus’ let daddy come and—oh Christ, fuck, fuck…—jus’ lemme come and we’ll go back to bed, okay, sweetie?”

“I’m gonna…” you pant, trailing off when he gets a little rough, pumping harder up into you. The sound of your pussy squelching around his length makes your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open. 

“Yeah, yeah, you—you come too, baby. Jus’ need to take the edge off, both of us.”

You squeal when he reaches a hand down to dig his fingers into your butt cheek and it makes you tense up, walls tightening around his dick. One well-placed swat hard enough to make the flesh of your ass jiggle and you come, clenching up so tight that his next few thrusts are slowed by your spasming walls, forcing him to really cram his cock into your hole. 

“Christ, that’s cute,” John growls, his pupils blown out. 

It hurts to come that hard; makes your belly cramp up and everything. Whatever gibberish spills from your mouth gets lost in the aftermath. 

That’s when the temperature goes from hot to blistering. The muscles of his thighs tense, straining with his impending release. Even his grip around your waist gets tighter, his self-control steamrolled under his approaching climax, oblivious to the way you squeal and squirm when it threads the delicate needle of being too much. 

“Sorry, baby,” he apologises, voice treading gravel. “M’gonna mess your pussy up a bit—”

“Wait—wait—” you gasp, trying fruitlessly to lift yourself up, his arms keeping you pinned tight to his chest. “You’re gonna—John, you’re gonna come inside me—”

His hips thrust up hard at your words, one last rough pump that has him digging his heels into the mattress and clenching his jaw, the veins in his neck protruding. You feel it flood inside you, hot spurts of cum right up against your womb. He curses when he comes, eyelids sliding shut, lost in the sensation of emptying himself into you. 

A few last, punishing thrusts that make your teeth clack together. More heat spurting into you. A murmured oh fuck before his legs slide back down the bed, spreading out over the mattress. 

The blanket is somewhere at the foot of the bed, all scrunched up and nearly dangling off the edge. You only start to shiver when the sweat on your back finally begins to cool. 

When he pulls you off his cock, you whimper, a hot flash snaking through you. Oh Christ did he plug you up good. Stringy, viscous cum leaks from your hole, leaving a little puddle on his thigh when you slide off his chest and to the side a bit. 

“Oh baby,” he tuts softly, reaching between your legs to feel where you’re wet and a little swollen. “Sorry, sweetheart…wanna get cleaned up?”

“No…” you rasp, so dazed that you can’t even lift your cheek off his chest. 

Exhaustion has never ridden you this hard before, but considering the circumstances…—perhaps you’re lucky to be conscious at all, is all you mean. There’s not a chance of you having enough energy to do anything as rigorous as showering though. 

“Okay, baby. Little kiss?” John asks in a murmur, lifting your head up by your chin and swooping down for a kiss. Not even giving you enough time to process his words before his mouth is on yours. 

His lips glide slick against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth like he needs a good, deep kiss to ground him. A wet twisting of tongues; a thick finger stroking up your neck. He can’t stop touching you. Running a hand up your spine and curving it back down over your ass. Featherlight touches meant to calm you down. His kisses grow sticky, lingering; each one almost the last until he pulls you in for another. 

“Go back to sleep, okay?” John says, still speaking low enough to push you back under. He smooths his hand down your back again. 

You fall back asleep with a load in your belly and your head in a tizzy. The you of tomorrow is going to have a lot to contend with from the you of tonight.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 40: Where Do We Go From Here?

Summary: Things aren't going as smoothly as anyone would like. Maybe they can fix it. Maybe they can't.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 5,970 words

Warnings: Angst, discussion of nightmares, PTSD, discussion of death and killing people, emotions, so many emotions, angst, a little sliver of comfort

A/N: And it is back!! not super proud of this one but I'm starting out on a filler so...yeah. Really just setting up for the next part where some action starts again. You'll see. Anyway, glad to be back at it and I hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

John stands at the door, gazing out at the yard. It’s pouring rain, dumping buckets on the roof. The water has pooled on the planks of the deck, splattering with every big drop that pours from the sky. The weather once again mirrors your mood, your sobs audible from your room over the pounding on the roof. 

John holds his mug in his hands, staring at the reflection in the window. Kyle and Johnny are sitting on the couch, both looking like kicked puppies. They’re itching to enter your room and go comfort you, but they’ve been kicked out for now. You’re not in the state of mind to be around any of them right now, no matter how badly your sobs tear at their heartstrings. 

You haven’t been in that state of mind for a few hours now. 

Whatever nightmare had plagued your mind last night, it was particularly awful. You’ve been up since the early hours, waking from a nightmare with a terrified scream that had continued until Kyle finally got you to stop and breathe. His ears are still ringing with it, his mind still pulsing with that fear. Something happened. Someone got in. Someone hurt you. 

Nothing happened. No one got in.  

The only threat was still just in your mind. 

Graves. 

He knows that’s at least part of your nightmares. Christine had disclosed that to him quietly on the side. Even she doesn’t know everything that plagues your dreams, but Graves seems to be a common specter in the darkness of your mind. 

It makes his blood boil, and not just out of anger for what Graves did to you. 

It boils with anger at himself too. 

It’s his fault you’re in this state in the first place. He should have known, he should have seen, he should have suspected. He should have never left you there. You should have been his priority over anything else. 

How badly he’s failed you. 

He lets out a sigh, turning away from the window to move over to the couches. He sinks down with a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees. The little progress you’ve made has regressed with this new string of nightmares, the fear pushing you further and further back into your mind. He’s resolved himself to only get worried when Christine is worried, and right now she’s beginning to look worried. If you regress back again, the chances of bringing you out of that are slim. Sure, there are plenty of options to help, but you have to want them to help. 

He knows exactly what will help, you just don’t want it. 

He runs a hand through his hair as your sobs begin to quiet. It’s longer than he’s let it get for a long time. They’re all a bit scraggly and ragged looking, worn down and lazy now that there’s no strict rules guiding their lives. None of them quite know what to do outside of the regulations they’ve spent the better parts of their lives living under. He’s been in the military longer now than he hasn’t, and he’s been finding himself itching for that structure again. He can never bring himself to relax and put the job aside even on leave. He only takes it when he has to and usually spends it training and keeping his skills sharp. 

Now...now things have changed. 

They have no return now. There’s no clear, set time that they have to return to base. They can’t return to base. It would leave them too open to a possible retaliation from Shepherd. They were betrayed by one of their own already, who's to say someone else wouldn’t be just as eager to become a traitor for a chunk of cash? They’re not even truly safe here. 

How are they going to go back to base after this? Can he bring himself to take you back there, a place you never felt comfortable in the first place? 

Where do they go from here? 

He’s been trying not to think too much about it. That’s a dilemma for a different day. That’s thinking too far ahead. Day by day is as far as he dares to take it now. 

The door closes quietly, John’s head lifting to watch Christine as she approaches the couch. There’s a slump to her shoulders, something that’s been getting lower and lower as the days have progressed. She’s struggling with this just as much as they all are. 

She sinks down on the couch, letting out a long breath. Your sobs have quieted, no sound coming from the room now. The silence is almost eerie after days of constant sounds, good and bad from your room. You were doing better. You were looking more alive and well. 

Then this happened. 

“She’s asleep.” Christine says, her voice strained. “Finally calmed down enough to nap.” She covers her eyes with a hand, sitting there still for a moment. 

“The nightmares?” John asks, glancing at Christine out of the corner of his eye. 

“Worse.” She says, her gaze far away. “She's remembering what happened.” 

John stares at Kyle and Johnny for a moment, the betas returning his worried gaze.

“Those shadows she killed...” Johnny says.

Christine nods. “She's, uh, not taking it well.” 

John runs a hand over his face. He knew it was possible you'd start to remember what happened during the time your omega took control. It wouldn't remain a dark spot forever, though he hoped it would. The things you were forced to do are coming to light now, the things you did to survive because they failed you. Taking the life of someone who deserves it is nothing to them. Taking the life of someone who would take yours just as quickly isn't so much as a second thought. 

You're not like them. 

You've never had to face that reality before, and you shouldn't have had to. 

“One of us should talk to her.” Kyle says.

“I don't think that's the best idea right now.” Christine shakes her head. “She's...regressed a bit. Pushing that on her, while well intentioned, might do more harm than good...” she trails off, her gaze still far away. 

The three of them sit there, waiting for what she’s going to say next. He’s not even sure Johnny or Kyle are breathing as they wait patiently for whatever solution Christine might be able to come up with, whatever move she thinks is the best one to take next. 

“I want to take her out.” Christine says. 

“What?” John asks in surprise. 

“She needs to get out of the house. It’s not doing any of us any good sitting in here all day.” She rubs her eyes. “She expressed interest in going for a walk a couple days ago. She needs to get up and moving, start regaining some of her strength.” 

John lets out a breath leaning back against the couch. He’s tempted to say no. His knee jerk reaction is to refuse. The world outside isn’t safe. If anyone is watching, if anyone sees them...

There’s always going to be that risk though, and Christine is right. Sitting in the house all day isn’t doing any of them any good. They’re at the mercy of the rain, but even then, he doubts it will keep any of them trapped inside for long. 

“When the rain clears up.” He finally says. “We'll discuss it more. But, I think that might be a good idea.” 

“What can we do?” Kyle asks, staring at Christine. 

She lets out a sigh, covering her eyes with her hand. “I don’t know. I’ve helped hundreds of omegas in crisis and yet I don’t know why this case is so hard.” 

“This has become more personal than those cases.” John says. 

Christine’s shoulders slump even more. “I know. I try so hard but she’s just so...different from other omegas.” 

“This entire situation is different from what you’ve done before.” Kyle says. 

“You’re right.” Christine sighs. “The best we can do is let her lead. Do what she needs, give her what she wants. The worst thing that can happen right now is regression. If she regresses too far, we might never get her back.” 

“What is it? Tell me what ye need.” 

“Can you make me forget?” 

“I wish I could.” 

“Hit me hard enough on the head I might forget everything. Then we can all just start over.” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.” 

“Kitten,” Johnny sighs, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I wish I could make those thoughts go away. I wish I could make them mine.” 

“I killed people.” 

“I know.” He reaches out, touching your hand. “I wish ye didnae have to. Ye were just defending yerself. Those Shadows would have done worse to ye if ye hadn’t.” 

You curl up in your chair, turning away from him. “That’s not helpful.” 

“Sorry.” He says, letting out another sigh. “We just want to help ye.” 

You’re silent for a moment, sitting there listening to the waves. It’s cold this morning, not even the thick blanket draped over you offering much respite. It’s the first morning it hasn’t poured rain in days and you were determined to take full advantage of it despite the objections of your pack. 

“I know.” You finally say, staring out at the grey clouds looming on the horizon. The rain will return, just like the dark thoughts constantly swirling in your mind. They make you sick, nausea constantly churning in your stomach and threatening to rise. 

Johnny wraps his hand around yours, his palm warm against your cold skin. “Should head inside. Gonnae catch a cold.” 

“You know that’s a myth right?” You say, tilting your head to stare at him. 

“No it’s not.” He says, pulling your hand between his. “It’s not good for ye being out in the cold.” 

“I’ll live.” You say, trying to pull your hand from his, but he holds you firm. He’s stubborn, but so are you. 

“Kitten...” He says, almost whining at you. “Go inside please.” 

You let out a sigh, staring out at the horizon again. The clouds promise more rain soon, another downpour on its way. You hate it, how much it’s been raining. You just want to be outside, down at the beach, going on walks. Your pack won’t let you though, not while it’s raining, even though they often leave no matter the weather. 

It’s not fair. 

You’re not a fragile flower and you’re tired of being treated that way. Even though your brain feels like it’s in a blender constantly. Even though the pain of what happened still drives into you like a knife, you just want to be treated like a normal human being again. 

“Fine.” You sigh, pushing yourself up to stand. “I’ll go inside.” 

Johnny grabs your arm before you can head back in the door. “Ye know we just want the best for you.” 

You stare at him for a long moment, emotions swirling in your mind. They are trying. You’ll give them that credit. They’re trying, but not hard enough. “What you think is best and what’s actually best isn’t always the same.” 

He looks like a kicked puppy as he lets you go. You turn away before you can feel guilty, heading back inside the cottage. 

You pull the blanket tighter around you as you stare at the flickering flames in the hearth. The heat is intense so close, but it’s warming the chill under your skin. It’s getting colder at night, foretelling the upcoming winter. All the blankets in the world couldn’t fight off the chill that’s settled in you at night. You know what might help, but you’re not brave enough to approach that solution. 

The footsteps on the stairs don’t startle you in the otherwise silent house, the creak of them audible over the crackle of the logs in the fire. 

“I’d add another one.” A voice says from behind you. 

“I’m going to.” You say, reaching for the stack next to the fireplace. 

“Careful. Put it on the side.” 

“I know how to make a fire, thank you.” You snap, shoving the log in before moving it into place with the poker. “I’m not useless.” 

“Didn’t mean to imply you were.” It’s silent for a moment as you settle back into place. “What are you doing out here?” 

“I’m cold.” You answer simply, not feeling up to giving an entire expose on your current state of mind to the person you want to speak to the least right now. 

“We can turn the heat up more.” John says. “Whatever you want to be more comfortable.” 

I want you to leave. You bite your lip, suddenly not brave enough to say it out loud. 

They are trying. 

“Why are you down here?” You ask instead. 

“Couldn’t sleep so I came to get a snack.” He says. “You want anything?” 

“No.” You say quickly, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. “I’m alright.” 

“You sure?” He presses, standing off to your right. 

You hesitate for a moment, curling your toes under the blanket as one of the logs snaps. It’s not food you need from him. Your appetite has decreased again with this new wave of horrible things plaguing your mind. “I want to know why,” You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “why you left me there.” 

John shifts behind you, silent for a long moment. 

“I got too caught up in the big picture.” He finally says. “I thought that taking out Shepherd would end everything before it went too far. It’s the only way we’ll ever be safe, and I didn’t consider the lengths he’d go to, the lengths he’d let Graves go to, just to cover his own ass long enough for him to escape. I was wrong in making that decision. You’re not like us. You’ve never been left behind, tortured, had to fight your way out of an impossible situation. You shouldn’t have ever been put in that position. We all failed you. Every last one of us.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you stare into the fire. “You left me.” 

“I know.” He says, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s the worst mistake I’ve ever made.” 

“I can’t do this.” You whisper, your knuckles white where they’re gripping the edges of the blanket. The words are coming out and you can’t stop them. Maybe it’s because deep down you remember the better times, when he was a comfort. Someone you could trust to catch you when you fall. “I keep seeing them, seeing what I did, what happened. I killed people.” 

“People that would have killed you without a second thought.” He says. “You were defending yourself in a situation where that was unavoidable. It’s not your fault. None of it is.” 

“Can we ever move past this?” You ask, your voice quiet and broken.  

“I like to think we can.” John says. “It won’t be easy, but if that’s what you want, we sure as hell will work to make it happen. Things won’t go back to the way they were, and they shouldn’t. You deserve better than what we gave you.” 

You don’t respond because you can’t. His words float around in your mind, replaying over and over. You want to believe him. You desperately want to believe him, but a deep part of you can’t. He’s made promises before and then broke them. How can you trust this time will be different? 

The creak of the stairs wakes you. It’s jarring, pulling you out of a sleep you didn’t know you were in. You’re on the couch in the living room, bundled under a blanket with a decorative pillow under your head. You don’t remember moving to the couch. The fire is nothing more than embers now, but it feels warmer in the house. It’s dawn, the grey light streaming in through the window, chasing away the shadows of night. 

“What are you doing out here?” A gruff voice asks you. 

You groan, rubbing your eyes. “Fell asleep.” 

“On the couch?” 

“Think I was on the floor first.” You yawn, pressing your face back into the pillow. “Don’t remember getting to the couch.” 

“Why?” 

“Got cold.” Your voice is slightly muffled as you pull the blanket up higher. 

Simon lets out a sigh before moving around the couch to the fireplace. He adds a couple logs in before lighting it again, the fire crackling back to life. You’re half asleep already as another blanket is draped over you, tucked up around your neck. There’s a feeling of a hand brushing over your head, but that may have just been your imagination as you drift off back to sleep. 

You don’t get to sleep long, more footsteps coming down the stairs waking you. A hand does brush over your head this time, the scent of the beach filling your nose. You let out a groan, trying to snuggle deeper into the blankets. 

“Sleeping out here this morning?” Kyle’s soft voice reaches your ears. 

You grunt, chasing the quickly fading edges of sleep in your brain. 

“Breakfast is ready, if you want to get up.” 

You are hungry. There’s a quiet rumble of your stomach as you begin to register the smells coming from the kitchen: bacon and eggs and coffee. Johnny is making the coffee most likely. Maybe you’ll have some this morning. You might need it with how groggy you feel. 

You stretch out on the couch, trying to breathe some life into your limbs. It’s not the most comfortable couch, definitely not for sleeping, but it’s better than the floor. It was likely John that moved you. He was the only one that knew you were out here last night. 

You're not sure how that makes you feel. 

It's nice on one hand, that he saved you from the pains of sleeping on the floor. But at the same time it feels like an intrusion. There was a time you wouldn't have thought twice about it. There was a time it would have been normal and expected and you would have thanked him for it. 

Now...now you're not sure. 

You push yourself up to sit, joints cracking from being stuck in one position for so long. You blink slowly as you sit there for a moment. It’s warm in the house, almost too warm now with your body warmed from sleep. Dr. Keller is sitting at the table, a steaming mug in front of her. Tea, most likely. Maybe coffee. You’re not quite sure. She gives you a soft smile as you rub a hand across your face. 

You feel groggy as you push yourself up to stand, letting your stomach and feet guide you towards the smells coming from the kitchen. Kyle guides you to the table with a promise of making you a plate and you take your usual seat at the end of the table facing the kitchen. Dr. Keller is to your left this time, coffee in her mug judging by the smell. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks, her hands wrapped around the mug. 

“Fine. Got cold.” You say, resting your head in your hand.

“John turned the heat up a bit. We can get you more blankets if you need them.” Dr. Keller says. 

You hum, letting your eyes close for a moment. You won’t complain about more blankets, more soft things to lay with. There is one thing you wish you had, though. You’re not quite sure how to ask for it, or that it would even be possible to get. 

You jump when a hand touches your back, not realizing you had even dozed off sitting there. 

“Sorry.” Kyle says, setting a plate on the table in front of you. “Food’s hot. You want coffee or tea.” 

“Coffee.” You say instantly, earning a wide grin from Johnny as he takes his own seat at the table. 

“Even split this morning.” He says cheekily, setting his own mug down. “Three against three.” 

“Tea is still the superior choice.” Kyle says from the kitchen. “Better for you anyway.” 

“Coffee has a lot of health benefits as well.” Dr. Keller says. “So long as you don’t add too much sugar into it.” 

“See.” Johnny says, giving them a victorious grin. 

“She said so long as you don’t put too much sugar in it.” Kyle says, carrying over your mug of coffee. “You’ll get diabetes from how much you add in.” 

“Two spoonfuls isnae too much.” He turns to look at Dr. Keller. “Is it?” 

Dr. Keller gives him a worried look. “You might be pushing it there.” 

Johnny’s grin turns into a pout. “What do ye mean?” 

A ghost of a smile tugs at your lips as you quickly shovel a forkful of eggs into your mouth. As much as the deep pain of betrayal still aches in your chest, as much as you still want to hate them, you have to admit you missed this. It’s the least tense you’ve seen all of them in the last few weeks. Even Dr. Keller’s shoulders don’t seem quite so squared as they have been. 

A part of you feels guilty about it. It is your fault deep down. You’re the one keeping them all on edge, driving that wedge between them over and over again. Deep down you’re the one causing the heavy weight that’s settled over the house. You wish you could just go back to normal, you wish you could just wave a wand and make yourself okay again. You wish you could ease their pain just a little bit. 

The eggs suddenly don’t taste quite so good anymore. 

You force them down regardless in favor of causing another scene, in favor of dragging the mood down. They deserve a little lighthearted moment after everything. They don’t need to know the inner turmoil plaguing your mind. 

Simon shifts next to you, his eyes darting to glance at your face. You can feel them, the intensity of his gaze just as sharp as it had been back in the beginning, back before he looked at you with fondness. He’s stiff as he sits there, almost as if he can sense the storm raging inside of you as you force yourself to pretend that you’re fine in favor of keeping the bright mood that’s settled over the table. 

Maybe he can sense it. He is an alpha after all. It’s his job to know, to understand. You glance across the table at John, his eyes on his phone as he sips his tea. 

Your gaze drops down to your plate as you pick up a piece of bacon, your heart shattering just a little bit more. 

“‘S too early.” You whine as hands pull the blanket off of you. Cold air nips at your skin, making you curl up in a ball. 

“It’s noon. Come on.” A hand closes around your arm, gently shaking you. “You want to get up.” 

You let out a whine, pinching your face up. “No.” 

“Trust me. It’ll be worth it.” Kyle says, brushing the hair back from your face. 

“Why.” You say, letting out a huff. 

“We’re going on a little trip.” Kyle pulls you up, forcing you into a seated position. “Dress warm.” 

You’re alone in the room again, the door left open. Light streams in, making you squint against the harsh intrusion. A quick glance at the clock reveals it is, in fact, a little past noon. You took a nap to make up for a night of tumultuous sleep, one of the few things you have to do here in this prison. Nap and read. It’s a lot like your life before the cottage, before everything that happened, except now you’re stuck with your pack around you at all times. 

You almost miss the times they were away. 

You maneuver yourself so your legs dangle over the edge of the bed as you try to blink the drowsiness away. The nap hadn’t been nearly long enough, but judging by Kyle’s eagerness, they let you sleep a bit longer than they wanted. 

You let out a sigh before pushing yourself off the bed, moving to the dresser. You pull out warm clothes, quickly changing. You have no idea what they have planned, what’s going on. There was no frantic rush, Kyle’s energy more excited than anything. It makes you a bit worried as you step out of the room into the living area. 

They’re all waiting by the door, watching you as you approach them, rubbing your eyes. 

“Come on,” John says, setting a pair of shoes on the floor. “Boots on.” 

“What are we doing?” You ask, moving forward automatically. 

“We’re taking a little trip.” Kyle answers. 

You look at him cautiously as you step into the boots, pulling them on. You haven’t been away from the cottage since you arrived two weeks ago. You’ve barely been let outside, weather permitting. It’s an overcast day today, the world grey outside, but grey is better than rain. 

“Ready?” John asks as you stare at him. 

“I guess.” You say, still a bit hesitant. 

They make no effort to ease your discomfort and nerves. 

You’re led out the door and towards the cars by Dr. Keller. Her face is brighter than it has been lately which doesn’t help your nervous energy. She’s excited too, just like the rest of them. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous. Maybe it’s the anxiety of leaving after being trapped inside for so long. You just want to know where you’re going, what it is you’re going to be doing. 

Dr. Keller ushers you into the back seat of one of the cars, getting in the other side. Kyle and John climb into the front while Johnny and Simon get into the other car. 

You watch the green pass by as they drive, taking in the new landscape. You don’t remember arriving at the cottage. You don’t remember most of the trip at all. It’s all a blur in your memory, much like the events that transpired after your omega took over had been. You wish you could remember the trip over those events. You’d take green rolling hills over your own hands taking lives. 

It had been jarring waking in the cottage for the first time. A new place, a lack of memories getting there. You’re beginning to get tired of the pattern. You half expect to fall asleep and wake up somewhere new again most nights. You wouldn’t know any better. A slip of a pill into some food and you’d wake up somewhere halfway across the world. 

You like to think they’d at least warn you beforehand. 

John pulls the car into a parking lot, parking near a line of trees. Johnny pulls into the parking lot behind John, parking near the entrance. It’s on purpose, you know that much. Everything is about safety and making things look as inconspicuous as possible. Anyone could be a rat. Anyone could be watching. 

It’s windier here as you step out of the car, even though you haven't gone far from the cottage. Walking distance, if you were up for a hike. You’re not. 

“Come on, kitten.” Johnny says, guiding you through the parking lot and towards a path. 

You still don’t know what’s happening as you follow them, Johnny holding your hand as you step onto the rocky path. He leads the way, the others following. John is behind you, hovering in case you slip in the gravel. You do your best not to, despite how quickly Johnny is leading you. He’s more eager than Kyle had been, and you’re sure he’d be running if you could keep up. 

You begin to figure out what’s happening as the sound of waves crashing on the shore gets louder and louder. Your chest starts to constrict with emotion as the trees start to get sparser and sparser, a cliff edge visible over Johnny’s shoulder. You want to run now, you want to break ahead and race your way to the edge of the cliff. Johnny, even in his excited state, would catch you before you could take off and potentially hurt yourself. 

You might hurt yourself just trying to run. 

You hate it. 

The land opens before you as you reach the edge of the cliff. The expanse of the sea seems daunting so close, grey and choppy from the wind. Salty air blasts you in the face, rustling your jacket as you stand there above a small beach. It’s empty, but that’s expected for the middle of fall. All the tourists have gone home, those with vacation homes back in better weather for the winter. 

You’re glad you’re alone. You wouldn’t want anyone else ruining this moment. 

Kyle’s fingers wrap around yours as you stand there, staring down at the beach below. “Come on.” 

The gravel turns to dirt as it winds down the side of the cliff, getting steeper as you near the beach. You do nearly slip as you follow Johnny down to the sand, your boots quickly getting muddy. You’re glad for them, understanding why John chose boots over more comfortable shoes. 

You pause as your feet sink into sand. You stare out at the water, at the white crests of waves crashing onto the shore. It’s real. It’s not just some mirage, some painting in the background of your life. It’s really here. You’re really here. 

No one says anything as you take a few steps forward before squatting down. You scoop up a handful of sand, letting it slip through your fingers. It’s coarse against your cold skin, thicker and rockier than the sand you’re used to, but it’s still sand. It’s still a beach. 

You’re at the beach. 

You scoop up another handful of sand, letting it run through your fingers again. You want to put some of it in a jar and set it on the nightstand at the cottage. You want to stare at it and remind yourself you’re really at the coast, you’re really just a short drive away from the sea. You want the sand to sink into your skin and flow through your veins and fill every crack that’s formed in your mind.  

You’re really here. 

You stand up straight, staring out at the water again. Your pack is still behind you, silently watching you. You shuffle forward a couple steps, waiting for one of them to stop you, to grab you and keep you from getting closer, but none of them move. You widen your steps, treading through the soft sand until you reach the edge of the wetter sand where the water was earlier. It’s easier to walk on as you continue to approach the water, the sound of your pack treading through the soft sand disappearing behind you as you get closer and closer to the water. The waves flow up the beach, your feet getting closer and closer to where that water stops. 

You half expect them to stop you as you step forward, letting the waves hit your feet. The salty water washes away the mud and sand clinging to your rubber boots, rushing up over the tops of your feet. You stare down at the water, watching it surge upward and around your ankles. You’d keep walking if you were brave enough, let it get higher and higher until it soaked your clothes, but you know they’d stop you. It’s far too cold to risk getting wet. You can feel the chill of the water through your boots as it flows over your feet. 

You’re not sure how long you stand there, watching the water rush back and forth, feeling the pressure of it against your boots as you stand in the waves. You’re really here. You’re really standing in the sea. 

You finally turn after what seems like an eternity, making your way back up to the softer sand. All of them are standing in a line, watching you. You wonder what’s going through their heads, what they feel standing here. Relief? Happiness? Guilt? Shame? The wind whips at your back, coming right off the water, blowing their scents away from you. What you wouldn’t give to be able to smell them right now. 

Tears burn your eyes as you make your way up towards John, trudging through the sand. His cheeks and nose are pink from the cold wind, his beard longer than you’ve ever seen it. You don’t remember the last time you’ve really looked at him up close. His gaze is uncertain as he stares down at you, trying to gauge your next move. He can’t. You know he can’t and it makes you feel powerful. 

It shouldn’t, but it does. 

“Thank you.” You say finally, a tear sliding down your cheek. “Thank you.” 

You can hear them. They don’t know it, but you can. They think they’re speaking quietly, but in the silence of the morning, you can hear almost every word. Dr. Keller’s protests, John's quiet insistence. 

Leaving. 

That’s the word that caught your attention. Leaving. Someone is leaving. Someone is separating themselves from the pack again, and not just for a trip to town to go to the store. This meaning is different, it hangs differently in the air. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea right now.” Dr. Keller says, her voice just barely audible through the open sliding glass door. It’s open just a crack, just enough to hear what’s transpiring inside. 

“We won’t have another chance.” John says, his voice insistent. “We have to do this. She deserves it.” 

She. You. Whatever it is, it involves you. It always does. You can’t remember a time over the last few weeks when it hasn’t been about you. It’s always about you and you hate it. You almost wish things would go back to the way they were before, when you were a second thought, the one left behind.

You’re going to be left behind again. 

“John-” 

“I know.” John’s voice is louder again. “We have to do what’s best for our pack, and right now this is it.” 

The sliding door opens, the conversation over. Your stomach is churning, nausea eating its way up your esophagus as John crosses the deck towards where you’re seated. His steps are slow and quiet, almost like he’s approaching a wild animal. He might be, depending on how this conversation is going to go. 

How are you going to react? You expected it eventually. They’ll always leave, they’ll always put you last and think about themselves first. Are you upset? Are you angry? Is it a relief? 

You wish you could feel something right now. Instead you feel numb. Another promise broken, another lie told. 

“You’re leaving again.” You say, staring out at the horizon as John takes a seat next to you. You need to get it out first, say what you know before he can say it and break your heart again. 

He lets out a quiet sigh, leaning back in the chair. “We are, but you’re coming with us.” 

You turn to glance at him, taken aback by his words. You’re leaving too? You hadn’t considered this. The cottage is your prison. You are Rapunzel trapped by the Mother Gothel that is your pack, stuck in the tower for the rest of time. 

Leaving? 

“There’s something we need to take care of back in the states.” John explains. “You’re coming with us.” 

Back in the states? What could possibly be there that is left for you, for your pack? 

You don’t like the sound of that. You don’t like the sound of that one bit. 

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[the-secret-formulaone]

prompt: you and max have been secretly together for years. neither the fans or the media have a clue. what happens when you and max are neck and neck for the drivers championship and you get the unexpected news that you’re pregnant?

pairing: max verstappen x ferrari! reader

word count: ~7.6k

warnings: 18+, cursing, mentions of sex but no real smut, mentions of miscarriage, some mention of blood

a/n: hello, i'm brand new at writing fanfic for f1. i've had this idea for a while and it was eating at me so i hope you enjoy. i thought it would be cool to have it be like a normal fic with a bit of that social!au content that the fandom loves.

this is pt.1 of how everything is going down and then the next and final part will be what happens after, her pregnancy and what reader does this time around. along with some fan social media mayhem.

id love to hear your thoughts!

enjoy!

LAS VEGAS, USA | NOV 2024

The nausea settling in the pit of your stomach is unbearable, it gets worse with each lap you complete. You're confident you can push through and finish the race without throwing up in your helmet, until the track begins doubling and tripling.

You haven’t felt this dizzy since you crashed in Spa three years ago due to rain. There were no stakes then as you were having a bad race weekend and started P7. Today you’re P1 and the gap between you and Max is getting shorter as you slow to try and compensate for the nausea and dizziness.

You hear your team in your ear, asking you if the car's giving you trouble since there’s no apparent reason for you to be slowing down at this point. Especially with ten laps to go.

“The car is fine,” you say through gritted teeth, trying to relax your abdomen to keep the nausea at bay.

“Then what’s the matter? Are you okay?” Riccardo, your race engineer, asks. His tone is stern yet concerned.

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine. My head feels like it’s spinning is all.” You're nonchalant but deep inside you’re panicking. This race means so much to you and your team. Now is not the time to get sick.

“Can you finish the race?” His filtered voice asks through the radio.

“Yes, I’m finishing the bloody race,” you curse, pressing on the gas pedal and tightening the hold on the steering wheel.

“If you continue feeling this way, box immediately,” he orders, not wanting to risk the safety of his driver, “By the way Max is 2 seconds behind you.”

“Fucking hell.” After all the work to create a 10 second gap Max is catching up because your body decided to get sick.

There’s rage building inside of you, keeping Max away is the most difficult part of racing. It took pure skill to keep him at a distance, he’s only catching up because you’re slowing. You're letting yourself down.

It’s been a battle of pole positions and fastest laps for you two. The championship is within your reach, threatening to break Max’s two year streak. It's why Max is giving everything he has to get ahead of you. If he wins this race he’ll be on top once more.

Another bout of nausea takes over your body, shivers running down your spine. Why are you nauseous and dizzy? You were hydrated before the race, the temperature in the car is warm as always but it’s cool outside, unlike Singapore, and you felt perfectly fine earlier.

It’s most likely karma for teasing Max this morning and leaving him with a raging hard on.

You notice Max in your peripheral vision. He’s ready to attack and regain P1. You accelerate and block him as best you can but nearing the turn you miscalculate giving Max the perfect opportunity to pass you.

He settles right in front of you, mocking how he got ahead so easily. If you didn’t love him and felt the bile coming up your throat you would’ve cursed at him. You were famously known for insulting the men driving the other cars.

At this point, you weren’t driving straight and your race engineer, Riccardo was telling you to pit and pull out of the race.

“I promise you I’m good enough to finish the race,” you say after a moment to swallow the bile coming up. You'd rather die than DNF'ing with a handful of laps to go.

“Norris is catching up. Let’s finish this race quickly so you can get checked.”

You’re glad you created a gap at the beginning of the race, otherwise Lando and Charles, your teammate, would’ve caught up already.

You see Lando trying to overtake you but you surprisingly block him and go as fast as you can. It’s not your best work and the FIA will have something to say about it but you make do.

Finally, down the final straight you press on the gas and cross the finish line. You finish the race out of pure muscle memory since you can’t rely on your distorted vision. Ignoring the celebratory cheers, you pull up on the spot marked #2. No one says anything about the askew parking job.

Your hands are clumsy, pulling out the steering wheel and standing. One of your teammates is right there giving you the hand you clearly need as you sway and almost fall straight out of the car.

Max is none the wiser, calmly getting out the RB and running over to his team who congratulate and scream his name. In his head, you lost control of your car, giving him a way to pass you. That's how F1 works.

You pull on your helmet and all the straps fast, the Ferrari team member helping you when he sees your urgency. As soon as you pull off your balaclava you bend over and empty the contents of your stomach.

Privacy be damned.

It’s not pretty. You’ve been holding this in for 20 laps and it’s not going to stop any time soon. The cameras focus on you as you push away the Ferrari team and finish throwing up. Ready hands catch you and you’re sat on a wheel chair as they roll you over to the medics. You close your eyes and throw your head back, everything around you spinning.

The murmurs of the crowd and the media cause Max to notice. He catches sight of you being wheeled away into the back. He takes a tentative step towards you, itching to be by your side but remembers the agreement you made to keep your relationship a secret.

Sometimes he hates how stubborn you are. At this point, the world should know you two are together, married even. Yet he understands your hesitancy with how cruel the media and the fans can be.

Max stays rooted on the spot, watchful eyes and dozens of lenses noticing every movement. Lando gets close to Max trying to avoid the cameras.

“What happened?” Lando asks referring to you.

“No idea, mate,” Max says, staring intently at the door you were just rolled through. A sleuth of Ferrari members following.

“She wasn't driving straight,” Lando shakes his head. He knew something was off when he caught up to her. “It was so unpredictable it made it harder on me to battle it.”

Max didn’t think much when he pulled up behind you but he did think it was strange how easy it was to overtake you. You always give him the hardest time.

He remembers this morning when you were in bed kissing him, touching him, teasing him. You were so cheeky, his length in your hand as you sweet talked him. 'Convincing' him to throw the race. Not like he’d ever do it. You were simply having your fun with him.

There wasn’t any sign of sickness then. It’s not like you spun out during the race either. You had been flawless out on the track until you weren’t.

“I'm going to check on her,” Max tells Lando, motioning with his head and wondering what exactly is wrong with his wife.

"Just wait," Lando stops him with a hand on his chest. They notice Charles in the Ferrari garage, heading to the back where they have you. "If you go, it'll stir up rumors."

Max tenses his jaw and looks away. With a roll of his eyes he turns to get weighed. He doesn't like it but Lando is right. He doesn't give a damn about his reputation only yours and the promise he made you.

f1_news tweeted: Ferrari’s Princess is transferred to hospital after race. It was heard through their radio she was having severe motion sickness, giving Max Verstappen the lead. Not many details are known as of this moment. More updates coming soon!

comments:

user2: hope she’s doing okay! she needs to come back to kick max's ass and take the championship from him 😮‍💨

user3: bet max is celebrating

-> user4: he looked very concerned when he saw her in the wheelchair

-> user14: who wouldn’t, she looked like death 💀

user4: did ya'll notice max disappear after the ceremony?

-> user5: lol he was making sure his favorite rival was okay 🤣

-> user101: no point in staying if he can’t rub it in her face 🤐

user6: our ferrari princess 👸 looked out of it. not sure how she made it out the car

user7: the podium felt so empty without her in it 😓

-> user8: did you notice max kept looking at the spot she was supposed to be as if expecting her to suddenly appear

-> user9: she’s like his best friend and his enemy wrapped in one. can’t live with her, can't live without her

-> user10: i swear he’s in love with her. 🗣️ it’s not normal the way he looks at her

-> user11: please, she’s married. you guys need to stop being delusional and stop shipping her with every guy on the grid

-> user10: not every guy, just max and maybe charles… -> user76: let's take a moment to appreciate charles immediately asking about her and leaving the track to see how she was. it's a win for us predestined x princess shippers

In the hospital, they quickly take you into a private room. The nurses retake your vitals and give you a shot to help with the nausea. A doctor comes in relatively quickly, asking you an array of questions to help him figure out why you got sick.

"The nurse should be in quickly to draw blood. I'm not too worried about this being anything other than a virus but we just want to make sure you're all good before leaving."

"Thank you, doc," you respond, lying back on the bed. They've given you one of the flimsiest hospital gowns in existence but you've gotta admit it's more comfortable than your race suit.

It's awfully lonely in the hospital room but it gives you time to relax and wind down. Fred and Riccardo were extremely concerned for your well being- not related at all to the fact you're on the run to win the championship-forcing you to go into the hospital.

Their stressed energy, the ambulance ride and then the nurses fussing over you was overwhelming. It would've made your nausea worse had it not been for the shot.

You're snoozing off when the door opens and your husband walks in. Max has a backpack slung over his shoulder with a set of clothes for you, along with your phone and other personal belongings you left at the paddock. He hurries over to you, dropping the bag and wrapping his arms around you.

"I was so worried, schatje," Max says in your ear, kissing your temple. The softness of his hoodie and the familiar scent he carries is comforting.

"I'm okay. You should keep your distance though, doc says I have a virus," you tell him, slightly pushing him away.

He’s stubborn as he keeps hold of your hand. "I don't care if I get sick. We've got two weeks until the next race, plenty of time for me to get better." Max sits on the chair next to your bed, asking you what happened during today’s race and listening to every word you say.

"What did they do for podium?" You later ask curiously, turning on your side to get more comfortable. Max props his head on his hand as he leans on your bed, getting closer to you despite your protests.

"Riccardo was there to accept it," Max tells you, kissing the back of your hand. He had been really worried. A part of him kept checking his surroundings for any sign of you.

It’s days like today where he wishes your relationship wasn’t secret. Max wants to express how worried he was about his girlfriend wife. He wanted to say ‘fuck you’ to all protocol and go after you.

He understands your reluctance and the need for privacy in your personal life. He knows what it’s like to have his privacy invaded and Max agrees that good things have come out of keeping your relationship a secret but you’ve also had to miss out on others. One day, you’ll have to come clean to the public to be able to live your life to the fullest.

The doctor returns before he can vocalize this. He knocks on the door as he steps into the room, a tablet in his hands. “Results have come back. Would you like the gentleman to step out or is it okay if he stays?”

“He’s my husband,” you tell the doctor.

You're used to people not recognizing you outside of Formula One but Max is more known than you. You wait for the doctor to react at the sight of Max, except there’s not an ounce of recognition in his face. Good, or else, you’d have to rely on his patient-doctor confidentiality.

“Let’s get into it then. Lab’s show dehydration which is normal for the state you came in like. In addition, to the fact, you had just finished a physically demanding race. Surprisingly they also showed that your quantitative hCG levels are high meaning—"

“I’m pregnant?” You pan, shocked. Max's hand tightens around yours. Last year's endeavors left you with enough knowledge to know what that term means.

“Yes, you are pregnant,” he nods.

Max instantly turns towards you in complete shock. There’s part of him that’s happy but then there’s another that’s concerned. Personally, he’d love to have a child but it would mean you would have to sacrifice the championship.

You stare at the doctor with parted lips and furrowed brows, “That’s impossible. I have an IUD.” This couldn't be happening at a worse time.

“All methods of contraception have a percentage of failure,” the doctor sighs. “Your pregnancy explains today's sudden dizziness and nausea.”

“Do you know how far along she is?” Max asks, holding your hand tightly to show his support.

“We would need an ultrasound for that but based on her last menstrual period it can’t be more than 6 weeks.”

“Six weeks,” you breath out. You could only hear your pounding heart and the air coming in and out of your mouth. God, you've been training and driving the whole time. For fucks sake, just two weeks ago you had been celebrating your win with lots of alcohol.

You hardly hear the doctor excuse himself, leaving you and Max alone. Tears brim your eyes at the cruelty of the universe. You have in your hands the two things you want most in life. A shot at the championship and the opportunity to become a mother.

Max sits on the bed, wiping away your tears. He doesn’t say much, at a loss of words. There’s not much he can say to make this better but he thumbs away your tears and pulls you into a hug.

You fist his shirt in your hands, crying onto his shoulder, “This is not fair.”

“I know, schatje.” Max is at a loss. He understands the conflicting feelings you have. It’s no easy thing especially after everything you and Max went through.

“I can’t go through this again,” you sob, remembering the painful memories of the previous year.

United Arab Emirates | Nov 2022

The last race of the season has come quickly, deeming Max the World Champion for the second time running. He’s at the top of the podium as the Dutch national anthem plays. You look up at him from the third position, smiling at him proudly.

You’re frustrated that you weren’t able to catch up to him but you’re confident your time will come. Every year you’ve spent in the grid you’ve been able to rise through the ranks and get great contracts.

Mercedes took a chance on you this year and you’ve made them proud. It was a challenge against Ferrari and Red Bull but as the only woman you’d say you did brilliant.

You’re going to miss this next year but a break is due. After years of hard training and dedicating everything to your career you’ve decided to focus on your personal life.

It’s been nearly a year since you’ve married Max and the conversation surrounding children becomes more constant. It's a nagging sensation in the back of your head. A longing you can't stop.

Feeling at peace with your performance, you decided to take this next year to become a mother. You’re young so in two years you’re sure you can come back stronger than ever and give Max a run for his money.

As the ceremony comes to an end, the party begins and the champagne bottles are brought out. “Don’t run,” Max laughs, spraying the frothy liquid in your direction.

You fight back, shaking the bottle and spraying some at Max and Charles. They gang up on you as Charles blocks your way and they both spray you. That will keep the fans making edits for months to come, the implication of the action clear.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Charles yells over the cheers when you aim the spray at his mouth.

Getting off the stage and into a private room, Max takes off his hat and pulls you in by the waist to press his sweet tasting lips against yours. You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. “Congrats two-time world champion.”

“Thank you, schatje,” Max responds, brushing back the hair sticking to your forehead.

“Get a room you two,” Charles huffs, knowing you forgot he was there.

“Sorry,” you say with a blush.

“I’m not,” Max laughs, stealing another kiss.

Outside, reporters of all kind were waiting to interview all three of you. They want Max’s celebratory words and you and Charles’ disappointment and regret. They live for the heartfelt promises you'll make for next season.

“Over here!” A reporter calls you, handing you a microphone. “What’s the plan for next year? Are you renewing with Mercedes or is there another team making offers?”

“I come with sad news,” you pout at the camera, “I won’t be on the grid next year.”

The reporter stares wide-eyed at you. This is the first time you've said those words out loud. “Could you share with us why?”

You nod at his question, fixing your hat as you speak the words you rehearsed many times before. “Since I was young I was prioritizing racing and getting into Formula One. I love how far I’ve come but I want to take a step back and enjoy my personal life for a little while. As you know, I got married a year ago and I want to enjoy that newlywed life. I will be back though,” you say with a smile and a wink at the camera.

“Is there a chance you’ll tell us who the lucky guy is?” The reporter questions, not really expecting you to answer. That the one thing you won't disclose.

You laugh, shaking your head at him, “No chance. I like to keep my personal life private.”

“Worth a shot," the reporter laughs with you. "Thank you for your time and we hope to see you soon!”

youtube upload: The Grid's Princess QUITS

thumbnail 📸: Toto Wolff looking angry and yelling at a Mercedes staff member. Lewis Hamilton with an arm around an upset looking reader.

comments:

user25: our queen is leaving? 😫 user30: who is going to keep the boys in check -> user5: i bet that’s why she’s taking a break, it’s not easy keeping charles and max under control user6: aren’t we curious as to who this mystery husband is? 👀 -> user17: i bet it’s either someone old or a billionaire, or both, i mean did you see the rock on her finger? -> user 46: oh they must be loaded to win over the grid's princess -> user96: i'm sorry but until i see proof of this man i will continue to set her up with charles user59: please, use a more dramatic title user48: i'm ready to fight 🤺 whoever made her stop racing. she's the only reason i watch them go in circles. who else is going to learn french to curse out charles properly? user55: *sigh* guess it’s time to rewatch all of the edits of her and max on repeat until she returns user104: let’s make a game. take a shot every time max and charles mention her next season.

Monaco | March 2023

When you temporarily retired, you thought you'd become pregnant in a matter of weeks. That is not the case.

Movies make it seem so easy to become pregnant, when in reality, it’s a challenge. It took nearly four months and multiple doctor visits for you to become with child.

The Winter break was spent tangled in sheets, keeping warm in each others embrace. Max was insatiable and so were you. Any chance you had you’d be dragging him somewhere private, his hands pulling at your underwear to tug them off...or to the side.

Max's voice would be in your ear as he spoke of how good you take him. He'd encourage you with words he'd never otherwise use. His cologne would intoxicate you, putting you in a trance.

His hold was firm and steady, making you shake and arch against him. His length sinking into you until you came with his name on your lips and his seed inside you.

Then, it finally happened. A positive pregnancy test in your bathroom counter. The alarm rang loudly, making you and Max share a nervous glance.

“You look,” you say with a shaky voice and shakier hands. Your period was late, followed by your tender breasts and the morning sickness. You fear your body was making it up because you wanted it so much.

“Before that,” Max says, cupping your face, “Don’t be disappointed if it’s negative. We’re just getting started and we have a whole year to try, yeah?”

You place your hands over his and nod with a small smile. Max presses a kiss to your forehead before he picks up the home test.

Max erupts in a smile, nodding and showing you the word positive. You scream, falling into his arms. He spins you around, kissing all over your face.

You and Max are over the moon, giddily waiting for every appointment with your doctor. Every ultrasound was recorded along with the babies heart beat.

Max is ecstatic. He's been wanting to have a family with you since he realized you were the one. He thought it wouldn't happen for a long time but then you revealed you wanted it too and soon despite your career.

It took a long conversation to figure out how to go about it with both of your careers being at their peak but you came to an agreement. He was ready be a father and you were ready to be a mother, even if it meant putting your career in pause.

Your desire to bring a child into the world was greater than giving the championship another shot. Whenever you're ready to return to F1, he'll take a step back and support you.

Max planned a dinner with the whole family where you told them you were expecting. Plans to decorate the nursery littered your coffee table and your internet browser history was filled with shop links with cute clothes and baby items.

Weeks later, it happened. Something felt wrong, off.

“Maxie,” you breathe heavily, feeling wet between your legs. Cramps littering your lower abdomen.

“What's wrong?” Max sits up in bed, sensing your distressed state. His gaze fixes on the red stain forming on the white sheets.

“I’m scared,” you cry, afraid to move or do anything. Cramps squeezing your insides like a bad period.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here,” Max reassures you, “Let’s go to the bathroom, yeah? I’ll call the doctor.”

A quick trip to the ER confirmed it. You miscarried.

You couldn’t look at Max that night, hugging yourself tightly as he drove home. You ignored all the glances he threw your way, shiying away from the hand that reached out for you.

All that happiness you felt drained out of you, leaving complete sadness behind.

Max was sad about the baby but he was more focused on you and the toll it took on you. It was always a possibility. The doctor spoke about what to expect on the first trimester and this was one of the things he mentioned. You both chose to ignore it at the time.

Max kept most of the lights off in the apartment. Remembering the bags with baby stuff from your online shopping. He kept the spare bedroom closed, where you were planning how to arrange it and paint it to transform it into the nursery.

He’s never seen you this devastated. After years of knowing you and dating you he never had the chance to see you at your lowest. It breaks his fucking heart.

Max holds you that night while you're in pain and bleeding. He rocks you as you cry, tears spilling from his eyes too as all that new hope is crushed.

You need him. Max is all you have at the moment because while he goes to race on the weekends and clear his head, you stay home with the weight of losing a baby.

Zandvoort | August 2023

With medical clearance and a couple of months to heal mentally. You and Max got to trying again.

You aren’t quitters and again you both desperately want a child. There's lots of sex, more than before. Something reignited in the relationship, like when the relationship began. Nothing could keep you away from Max back then.

He would fuck you wherever he could. Often times risking being seen. It was a moment where neither of you cared about being caught or being exposed to the whole world.

The Two-Time World Champion and the Grid’s Princess. Happily Married and Horny for Each Other.

The second time you found out you were pregnant was in Zandvoort, Max’s home race. You weren’t traveling as much trying to give your body rest and hopefully encourage it to take but this was a special track for Max so you tagged along.

Similar symptoms were arising so you waited to arrive at Zandvoort to take the test with Max. You were once again in the bathroom, sitting on the counter. He was between your legs, his head on your chest, waiting for the four minutes to be over.

“If it’s negative?” You asked, your fingers in his hair, scratching at his scalp to relax him.

“Then we try again and again and again,” he says cheekily, grabbing onto your thighs and kissing you.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you,” you giggle, pulling at his roots to make him groan.

“Perhaps but I’m not the one yelling out my name,” he smirks, recalling the other night when he had you with your legs up on his shoulders as he entered you slow and deep. If he closes his eyes he can hear your whiny moans begging for him to tip you over the edge.

“Poor Checo had to call the front desk and fill in a complaint,” you giggle, hiding your face from Max with your hands.

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see his text,” Max shrugs, not having a care in the world.

He was in his suite with his wife, having fun and trying to conceive. It’s not his fault he was making you feel so good you felt the need to scream his name and it’s not his fault Checo’s bedroom was right next to yours. Blame the Red Bull team for reserving two suites right next to each other.

The triggering alarm sounds, making your heart race. This time you grab the test, deciphering what the faint lines mean. You ran out of the good pregnancy tests and you were too lazy to go out and get new ones.

“It’s positive!” You squeal, showing the home test to Max.

Max’s eyes widen, “We did it!”

“I'm so happy,” you tear up from joy, hugging Max’s shoulders. Nothing is stopping him tomorrow on the track. He’s going to ride this high as long as possible.

Max grabs your thighs, forcing you to wrap your legs around him. He carries you over to the bed, kissing your lips, your neck, your chest.

Max was going to make you scream out his name again.

There was little celebration. You and Max kept the news to yourselves for a while longer. You took every precaution on the book. You stopped traveling with Max afraid it was one of the causes of your first miscarriage. You took care of your diet, you did minimal exercise, took every prenatal vitamin you could find but much like the first time, it happened again.

This time you felt so defeated, like something was wrong with you. Like maybe you weren’t meant to bring a child into the world or become a mother.

Max found you on the balcony one night after it happened. It was freezing outside so he got a blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“‘I'm sorry,” you sniffle, not meeting his eyes. Your tears were cold against your cheeks.

“For what?” Max asks, watching you carefully. Your eyes red rimmed and nose runny.

“There’s something wrong with me and I can’t give us a baby,” you cry softly, wiping away at your tears.

You feel so ashamed and embarrassed. Having a baby shouldn’t be this fucking hard. You’ve done so much in life and this simple thing you can’t do. Something your body was designed to do.

“Hey, no. You know what the doctor said. There’s nothing wrong with you and there’s so many other ways we can have children together,” Max chides you, pulling his chair closer and grabbing your shoulders so you look at him.

“If there’s nothing wrong with me why does it keep happening?” You ask as your eyes well with more tears. They haven’t stopped in a good ten minutes.

“It’s not our time yet.” It’s the only thing Max can say. He doesn’t have all the answers in the world but there is one thing he’s sure of. “I love you no matter what.”

“I don’t want to go through this again.” Your bottom lip wobbles as you speak. The words getting caught on your throat.

It’s not like you don’t want children because you desperately do but you can’t go through another disappointment. More pain and more blood. More false hope.

“You don’t have to,” Max tells you, comforting you the best way he can. He picks you up, settling you on his lap as he wraps his arms around you. He kisses your head, coming up with words to make you feel better.

He doesn’t want a child if the process is going to cause you so much suffering. It’s hard seeing you like this when he’s used to seeing you be this independent strong woman, who broke barriers in a field of men.

He’s discovering a new side to you deep into your relationship. He loves you but it’s shocking to see you be this vulnerable when a lot of times you love to handle things on your own. In a way, he’s happy he’s able to be here with you and help you.

Monza | November 2023

In Formula One rumors spread like wildfire. Within the teams and its members and riders the reason for your break didn’t remain a secret for long.

It didn’t stop certain teams from reaching out and persuading you into joining them. As far as they know you’re not pregnant yet and you did promise to return one day.

As the only woman in the grid you pull in lots of sponsors and the media and fans love you. Having you on a team is a win all around, considering you also bring in trophies.

Ferrari is a big team showing their interest in you. They’ve sent your manager multiple invitations for you to come and visit Ferrari Headquarters. No strings attached just a simple tour and meeting.

It’s tempting. Driving for Ferrari is every F1 racers dream and to be invited to test out their car and talk business is an honor.

You went quietly to the meeting, undecided if it’s the choice you want to make. Mercedes awaits your return whenever you’re ready, having led them to victory many times alongside Lewis.

Oh, Toto Wolff has you in his sight constantly. If he knew you were at Monza he’d probably fly down and get you out. You’re one of his biggest assets yet.

“There's our princess,” Charles greets you, running up to you and giving you a big hug.

He missed having you around. The fans never let him forget of all the good times, constantly tagging him on instagram and twitter.

“Hey Charles,” you laugh as he sways you from side to side.

“I missed you,” he says as he guides you over to the garage.

“Missed me kicking your ass?” You quip, playfully pushing him.

“Please, competing against Max on my own is exhausting. Too much responsibility,” Charles admits.

“He’s having the time of his life.” Max has the most fun when there are challenges and Charles has proven to be a worthy one. Insults and all. He loves getting a rise out of him.

The Ferrari team sets you up with a bright red race suit, giving you a visual of what your future has in store.

The feel of the baclavla is familiar around your head and the weight of the helmet comforting. It’s been a year since you last wore the uniform and it feels like home.

You step into the car, slidding in the steering wheel. The crew gives you the signal to pull out and you do with a push on the gas.

The rumble of the engine is exhilarating as is the blend of colors around you. It comes back so naturally, knowing when to push the car when to break. Learning this car is easy, like it’s made for you.

It has the potential to be a winner, to help you achieve the goal of becoming world champion.

“Ready to join Scuderia Ferrari?” Frederic Vasseif asks you once you get out of the car. There’s a smugness to him. He knows you enjoyed it and you’re itching for more.

“I don’t know. Carlos seems to be doing really well,” you try to play it cool, taking off your helmet and baclavla to shake off your hair.

“He’s good but you’re the greatest,” Fred says, giving you a knowing look.

“If I accept it’s because I want to win the Championship,” you negotiate. Charles is the first driver and it makes sense he stays there since he’s been with the team longer but you will not sacrifice yourself for him.

“We wouldn’t have it any other way,” Fred agrees, extending his hand to shake yours.

“The predestined and the princess?” Charles smiles, wrapping an arm around you.

You smile and bite your lip, “It’s time to take down Max Verstappen.”

No wonder the fans think there’s a long standing rivalry between you and Max. You talk a lot about taking him down and winning the championship. With the trust you two have he bites back with words of his own. It makes for quite a show. They’re going to lose it once it’s revealed you’re joining Ferrari.

Your joy returning home is palpable. Max notices it the moment you walk into your shared home in Monaco. The cats notice it too as they weave between your legs asking to be pet.

"Hi, love," Max greets you, placing his hands on your hips and kissing you. You wrap your arms your his neck loosely, smiling into the kiss.

He doesn't let you go when the kiss breaks, his thumbs caressing your back. You smile at him, a hand on his face, as your fingers brush over his stubble. He leans into it. “How did it go?”

“It's top secret," you say cheekily.

"Really?" Max follows along amusedly, "You can't even tell your dear husband Max Emilian?"

It's been an inside joke since you started dating that the person you're dating is Max Emilian and not Max Verstappen. Helps keep things separated to a certain degree but mostly it's funny.

"Well, if it's Max Emilian asking I can tell him that I've just signed with Ferrari and that Max Verstappen will have some serious competition next year," you tell him as your smile widens.

“Congratulations!" Max exclaims, hugging you tightly. You laugh is music in his ears. From the moment you stepped in he knew something changed. You were laughing and smiling like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

“I’m a Ferrari girl now and I’m going to take that title from you,” she boasts, playfully pushing him.

“That’s a big statement,” he says, playfully caging her in his arms. Max adores that her competitive streak is back, it's one of the things he fell in love with when you began dating.

Being married means being there in the bad and the good, in sickness and in health. He'll be by your side through it all but he'd rather have you be happy and competitive than depressed and anxious.

“What you think I can’t do it?” You laugh when he tries tickling you. Your this close to elbowing him if he doesn't stop.

Finally letting up, he cups your face and looks into your eyes as he says, “If there’s someone who is going to do it, it’s you. You're my girl after all.”

f1 posted on instagram: The Princess is back and in red. Everyone bow down. 📸: Reader wearing a Ferrari race suit posing in front of the new Ferrari SF-23. Comments: user8: holy shit she’s back

user95: this was not on my bingo card, but it was in my dreams every night since she left -> user57: like a wise woman once said in rome; this is what dreams are made of

user72: guess she had enough of that married life and is back to wreck these boys

user14: i might actually fucking cry. our queen is back and in ferrari red -> user98: red is definitely her color. -> user67: you know who's color it is too? charles... ->user53: you know who likes charles? max... ->user17: i can't with you 💀

user67: i want to see max squirm with both charles and her against him -> user55: please if anything it’ll turn him on -> user45: hell even i'm turned on

user88: wait does this mean she can’t curse at charles anymore? -> user68: don't worry, the second charles gets in her way it's coming. don't you remember that one time she almost crashed with lewis and she let him have it? -> user 90: i've never seen lewis be that fast outside of a car

user12: i’ve got my editing program ready, i’ll get all the edits. max x princess, predestined x princess, max x charles, i got them all -> user56: i'm not picky, i'll help -> user02: you should do one where she's walking in like in those wwe fights with the dramatic music

Monaco | Nov 2024

The conversation about the pregnancy is kept on pause. You and Max wait till you're back home in Monaco to continue it. It's fresh in your minds though as you try and make sense of he timing of it all.

There's only two more races to the season, you are so close to the end. You wish you hadn't found out till much later, they do say ignorance is bliss.

You're filled with fear and uncertainty. What if this pregnancy ends up like the rest? What if you give up the championship for something that might not even happen? But what if you chose the championship and give up a viable pregnancy?

The morning after arriving at Monaco you're in the kitchen with your laptop in front of you as you schedule an appointment with your doctor. The cup of coffee you made earlier is now cold as you could barely drink it with so many thoughts in your head.

You cover your face with your hands, groaning at the headache forming so early in the day.

Max finds you like that and he knows it's time to talk. He comes up behind you, pressing a kiss and resting his chin on your shoulder as he hugs you from behind.

"What's on your mind, schatje?"

You take a deep breath, focusing on him to try and gather your thoughts, "I don't know what to do, Maxie. What do I do?"

"I can't tell you what to do. I can tell you that I want to have a baby with you but I don’t want you to go through all that pain again or feel pressured that you need to do this for me. I love you and I want you to be happy. If it's choosing your career I'm here for you. If it's starting a family I'm here as well," Max says as he hugs you tighter until you relax against him.

You shake your head, lacing your fingers with his as they lie on your midsection. "It's the fact that the first two didn't end well and it was such a horrible experience. If I knew for a fact I was going to give birth to this baby I would drop the championship in a heartbeat."

"I'm happy with whatever you choose. Even if you decide that carrying a baby isn't for you. Later on we can try surrogacy or adoption."

It's 2024 and there are tons of options out there in the case you want to become parents. It doesn't have to be one way or no way. Plus, they are young and have their lives ahead of them.

"Really? You couldn’t be like one of the awful men who insist women need to have a baby? You’re making this hard on me," you lightly joke, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss it.

Max laughs along with you. He knows you've made a decision even if you haven't realized. He's only there to guide you. “You already made a decision, schatje.”

Your eyes return to your laptop where the appointment with the specialty clinic is displayed. “I need to give this pregnancy a chance. I mean think about it. I've raced, I've drank alcohol and it's still here. It happened against all odds, Maxie. What if it’s a sign? That the timing is right,” you say, recalling the conversation you had with him a year ago. “I just hate I need to withdraw from the rest of the races.”

Max made a decision that same moment, “I’ll pull out from the races too.” It feels shitty that because you're a woman you have to pull out the races for your safety and the baby's while he continues on like nothing has happened.

“What? That’s insane Max,” you exclaim, staring at him bewildered.

“It’s only fair. You have to do it to have OUR baby, why do you have to be the only one who quits?”

You laugh and shake your head, placing your hands on his chest, “You’re not doing that, Max. This is F1 and it’s ruthless which is why you’re so good at it. Besides, with last Sunday's race you're already ahead of me and there's no chance the others are catching up with two races to go. The title is yours," you reassure him, kissing the corner of his mouth, “It’s not my time to be a world champion yet and maybe it never will. I have to accept that."

Max scoffs, poking his tongue on his cheek, “No, you will be. Once you have this baby you’re coming back even if I have to give away my seat in Red Bull.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you hum, looking into his eyes.

“You beat me on your rookie year,” he reminds you.

Back when you started in F1 and neither you or Max were on the top you had friendly battles in the midst of the races. It wasn't for podium but it kept the fans entertained and recruiters eyes on you both. Max beat you most times but there was one day you beat him on a wet race which is unheard of.

“Once!”

“Once was enough!” He insists. Max fell in love with your competitive side, it didn't matter if you beat him or not. That day when you approached him with that big smile and malicious intent in your eyes he was done for.

“How will we handle the media?” He steers the conversation a different place. He's not sure how much longer he can keep the relationship a secret with a baby on the way.

“Same as always. They can’t know about us yet, Maxie. They will throw your name on the ground and say horrible things.”

If the media finds out that you're pregnant with Max's baby they will say it's sabotage cause he felt threatened that you were going to take the title from him. They don't care for details.

“I don’t know how much longer we can keep this a secret,” he confesses, trying to reason with you.

“Not long okay? After the baby comes,” you promise him. After the baby comes you will tell the world everything.

F1_news tweeted: The Grid's Princess is withdrawing from the rest of the races this season due to her health. Not much is known yet. Carlos Sainz to take over her seat.

comments:

user56: not again please -> user97: i'm in tears -> user57: alexa play 'see you again' by charlie puth

user64: i hope she's doing okay and is able to return next year. she was so close on getting the championship

user76: i love the queen but i'm happy to get charlos back again! -> user34: it's very bitter sweet isn't it? -> user57: i wonder if she'll be back with ferrari next year? -> user45: well her contract is for two years so if she's okay when the next season starts i don't see why not -> user08: contracts mean nothing in F1 user04: get ready to witness a pouty max -> user 87: these next few races will be a piece of cake and he hates it -> user72: i love lando and charles but there's no way they are going to give him a hard time

user46: this is the end of the princess, who is going to want her back? -> user 43: get the fuck out of here you hater -> user345: who asked for your opinion?

F1_fanpage: The Grid's princess seen walking out of a clinic specialized in complicated pregnancies. 📸

user45: holy shit, it all makes fucking sense she’s pregnant -> user58: i didn't want to say anything but dizzy and nausea? it’s textbook pregnancy

user67: our queen is having a prince(ss) -> user176: who is the fucking dad? -> user404: he needs to be a part of F1 for her to still be around when she should be home resting

user47: she's glowing

user68: not her audibly rooting for carlos on the latest race -> user99: well it is only temporary and it's not like they kicked her out. she left because she had to -> user55: we love a supportive queen either way

user88: did ya'll see her interacting with max and charles after the race? they were so careful with her. it makes so much sense! -> user44: i'm hyperventilating we got a max hug! -> user 67: better yet we got a charles hug! -> user12: opening up my editing program as we speak

Part 2 Coming Soon

The world is aware you're now pregnant. You got a job working for the F1 social media and interview team during your pregnancy. Rumors keep spreading about who your husband and baby daddy is. Fans keep shipping you with Max and Charles. Max might just explode if he doesn’t tell everyone, but will he?

[kitimeq]

surprise encounter 🤍 sylus 秦

pairing: sylus x reader

summary: You’ve been playing love&deepspace ever since the game came out and it became your comfort place now. You like all of the boys, but you have the highest affinity with sylus, who had your heart in a grasp ever since the beginning. Who would’ve thought that he shares the sentiment? And after your monthly absence from the game, he decides to pay you a little visit and finally confess to all of it (and maybe try to kidnap you in the process too).

tropes: fluff, angst to fluff, fluff to angst to fluff? fluff to angst to fluff to angst to fluff???? idk angst with happy ending!

word count: no idea, it goes on for days sorry

warning!: i apologize for any mistakes, i am not a native speaker of english!! if you see any errors you can write me a dm and i will correct them for sure ♡ and i think it gets better later! i can’t write for shi, especially the beginnings, and the second part was fueled by my delulu so it is probably much more fun to read 🤍

⁺˚*•̩̩͙���•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

You liked days like these: quiet days, lazy ones, when you didn’t have any errands to run, meetings to attend, or people to please. You could just stay inside for the whole day, reading your favorite books and playing cozy games, spending your time however you wanted. Today was Saturday and you didn’t have to go to work until Monday and you decided that you finally deserved to have some rest after the last couple of weeks of almost working yourself to the bone due to the amount of the assingments you had to complete at work. You often had to stay after hours or work from home to complete everything in time. Your work was not usually that challenging, but there were certain times of the year when everyone at your job had their hands full and when it happened, you were almost completely cut off not only from your social, but also personal life. However, you never complained, because you actually liked what you were doing, and even if the occasional hard times were inevitable, your work brought you so much fun and satisfaction.

And today was a good day! You finally finished everything you had to do, so you could go back to your favourite game. You didn’t have time to play recently due to the amount of work, up to the point that you didn’t even bother to check in to grab some stamina. Usually, love&deepspace was an important part of your day - you logged in there at least twice a day, completed every task thrown your way and had a blast doing so, but these couple of weeks were so hard for you that you almost forgot about it completely. But even if you were too busy, you thought about the boys from time to time, as well as about the events that you were probably missing out on. You really hoped that if some new events had taken place during that time, that they did not involve Sylus, because if you had missed them, you would be slightly devastated.

Sylus was your favorite. Ever since the beginning, there was something about him that caught your attention. You downloaded the game after his announcement and haven’t looked back since. You played with other boys as well, but your time with Sylus was always the most memorable. Not only was he extremely attractive in your eyes, as well as the eyes of other players around the world, but you also understood his character, adored his little jokes and mannerisms, and could safely say that he made your life a little more exciting. You knew that it probably sounded lame to someone who didn’t play such games, and you were aware that he wasn’t real, but you enjoyed yourself regardless. In your real life, you had some experience with men and were pretty popular among them; however, you never felt comfortable enough to form more serious romantic relationships.

Here, with Sylus, you didn’t have to worry about such things. You were aware that he was only a game character and maybe that was why you were so honest with him from the very beginning. You knew that he wouldn’t judge you, misstreat you or make you miserable - he was created in a way that was supposed to make your playthrough enjoyable so you didn’t have to worry about your responses in the messages for him or your real life reactions to everything he said or did. You could just be yourself. And you loved how freeing that felt.

That is why you felt so excited ever since you woke up. Because you knew that today you could finally go back to playing l&d, and you could meet up with your Sylus after so much time apart. You quickly did your chores, spent some time on self-care to slightly relieve the fatigue from the weeks before, you put on your favourite cozy outfit and finally clicked the ”enter game” button.

And there he was. Sylus was standing in the cafe, wearing his extremally attractive biker outfit and you caught yourself sighing dreamily at the sight of him. You missed him so bad, you missed the little memories you shared and the sound of his voice. You missed playing kitty cards with him, catching plushies together and even looking for that bastard Tobias again and again. You couldn’t help but smile brightly at him.

“Hi Sylus, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.” You said cheerfully, feeling kind of dumb for it but you couldn’t help yourself. You often talked out loud to him during your playtime.

You watched him blink slowly once, then twice, and you started to think that there was something wrong with the server because his response should have already been uttered. But then the look on his face changed. At first, he appeared really shocked and relieved, but then a little frown appeared between his perfect little eyebrows.

“Where the hell have you been?” He responded quickly and it shocked you. You didn’t know that they could swear in the game, but after connecting some dots you figured that it had to be included in the special responses after the player was away for some time.

“At work mostly, been so busy lately but now I’m back and ready to defeat some Wanderers!!” You fist bumped the air above you, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

You also noticed that his expression stayed the same. He was silent, looking at you through your phone screen with bewilderment, and he looked almost hurt. In an attempt to provide some comfort to him, you swiped your finger gently through his hair and across his cheek. However, when you touched his cheek, he closed his eyes and nuzzled into your finger, which made you widen your eyes in surprise. Was that always a thing? Was he always so responsive to your touch? It had to be a new feature; you didn’t remember him being so lively.

“Next time you decide to leave me without a word, I think I’m going to take more drastic measures, sweetie” He said while opening his eyes. You couldn’t help but notice he did look different than usual. More… realistic? Even the way in which he moved his body looked so smooth.

“If not for Mephisto, I would have worried sick about your safety. You can't do this to me every time you have more work than usual; you have to visit me, even if it's just for a minute. I won't exaggerate when I say that I almost went insane after the first week of your cruel silence” And at that you were completely stunned. Should he talk this much? He never talked this much. And how could he know that you had more work than usual? Was that a lucky guess on the studio’s side?

“That’s so weird…” You whispered and touched his hand to trigger some kind of reaction that would appear more usual than what was happening right now.

“Is that your way of catching me of guard? If you wanted to hold my hand so badly kitten, then you would have visited me sooner. I will not let myself be distracted by your cute little behavior” He raised the hand you touched and crossed his arms at his chest, while continuing to frown. And you were still so, so confused.

“Promise me that you won’t leave me again, I know where to find you now.” You raised your eyebrows and bit your lip gently. You started to feel a little bit out of place, you knew that he was not real, but he sounded kind of scary. His voice was demanding, and the part about him finding you? You shivered involuntarily.

“What happened? Cat got your tongue, kitten? Or did you finally understood the selfishness of your actions?” Sylus continued and you opened your mouth in awe. “Promise. Me.” He said slowly, his gaze unnerving. Suddenly you heard a series of loud caws outside on your balcony. The sound made you jump in place, and you dropped your phone on your bed. Was that a freaking crow?? Outside your apartament???

You quickly picked up your phone and cursed softly. You were going insane. You got scared just because the game had an update you did not know about. You almost wanted to laugh at how stupid that was. Almost. Because Sylus walked up to the front of your phone screen and spoke to you again.

“Why are you hesitating? Are you really planning to leave me again?” You swore you never heard him so hurt.

“No!” You said before you could think.

“No?” He answered immediately, which scared the hell out of you. “I am not sure I believe you. And I can’t stand it. I can’t stand being away from you anymore.” He took two steps back and closed his eyes.

That was when the game crashed. Your phone appeared to be broked too, after the colourful lines appeared on the screen, flickered a couple of times and the whole screen turned black. You threw the device away from you and your heart started beating so fast you could hear the blood pulsing in your ears. You were so confused and genuinely scared. Was there an update that switched the genre of the game to horror? You were stunned.

And then you heard the knock.

You almost jumped out of your slippers. You brought your hand to your heart in order to calm yourself down and you started taking slow, deep breaths. It’s just a game. It’s just a game. Besides, how did Sylus, of all people, managed to scare you so badly? You adored that character, and you should know that he was prone not only to exaggeration, but also to intimidating appearance. That was literally one of his characteristics. So you forced yourself to calm down and opened the damn door, because it was probably a mailman, or one of your friendly neighbors, and here you were making a scene like a complete psychopath.

One. Two. Three.

You opened the door, and at first all you could see was a huge cloud of black mist. You closed your eyes in order to keep the mist from clouding your vision and then you felt wind pushing you gently further into your apartament. You heard the door close and the sound of the key turning in the lock. Everything happened so fast. And when you opened your eyes your knees almost buckled.

Sylus.

Sylus was all you could see. He was standing in front of you, in your own apartament, looking so out of place that you wanted to laugh. The first thing that you noticed about him was that he was huge, you couldn’t really see past him, and the more you looked at him, the more real he appeared to be. Soft-looking silver hair, rugged skin, that perfect nose and those piercing eyes. They looked into yours now, and at first they seemed to be searching for something, and after one quick second they visibly softened. You could also see how his handsome, oh so handsome mouth started to display his signature little smirk. And that was when you started to tremble.

“W-wha—” You tried to say something, anything but your mouth was not working. You have never been so confused and scared in your entire life. “Who—W-who are—” He was starting to close the distance between you and that is when the panic finally took over your body. You flinched and went to take a step back, but you slipped on your soft carpet.

Yet you didn’t fall. You felt the gentle caress of the mist that managed to caught you before you hit the ground, and it streightened your posture so that now you stood tall in front of the man.

“Careful kitten, I do not think that falling on four feet applies to you.” He spoke out loud for the first time and the voice was so familiar to you. It was the same, deep, husky timbre that you loved to hear, the same voice that made you squeal in happiness, that lulled you to sleep countless of times. You couldn’t believe it.

“Oh my god, am I dead?” He laughed softly at your reaction and looked at you through his lashes. “This can’t be happening.”

”Oh but it is. I knew that I would find my way to you, I just needed time.” He said and tried to close the distance between you, but you didn’t let him. Every step forward he took, you took one back. “It was so hard to find you. But after you disappeared without saying a word I think I got desperate.” Something flashed in his eyes. You recognized it as determination.

He stopped walking when he noticed that you were getting too close to the balcony. He straightened his posture, and you almost released a gasp. He was huge. And he was real. Alive and so, so real, that you had trouble breathing. You were so scared, but at the same time, so happy to see him, that your body didn’t know how it should react. You just looked at him, taking him in, trying to assess whether it wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you, or if it wasn’t some random man breaking into your apartment and your brain had created a new, fantastic defense mechanism. But no, the longer you took him in, the more similarities you managed to notice: the scar in the corner of his eye, his unevenly clipped fingernails, strong but dry hands, olive skin, slim lips, long, slightly furrowed eyebrows. The not-so-hidden gentleness in his gaze as he was taking you in himself.

“It’s really you.” You managed to breathe out.

“You’re so beautiful.” He answered and his voice was slowly starting to make you feel these similar butterflies. “So, so magnificent.” He continued. You felt your cheeks heat up and he seemed to drink that reaction in. “Will you talk to me more? You sound angelic. I did not think that you could sound even better than you did through the phone but I guess you will never fail to surprise me, sweetheart.” He did not move an inch. He just looked at you, and you still didn’t know how to react, but you were slowly coming to terms with the fact that it was not a weird dream. He was here and he didn’t appear to have bad intentions. At least you wanted to believe that.

“You’re still trembling. Are you really that scared of me?” He pressed his lips into a line.

“I’m sorry. I just… I’m just not sure what is happening. I had no idea you were… real.” He laughed softly at that.

“You wound me, kitten. Is that your way of unleashing your little claws?” He continued with a small smile on his lips and you couldn’t take it. He looked… stressed. And you thought that was new for him. You spend so many hours playing with him in l&d but you have never seen him so stressed.

Everything that came out of his mouth was slow and precise, not a word was spoken without a purpose. However you could see by his appearance that he was uncertain.

“Of course I’m real. And all the time we spent together is real too. Was it so wrong of me to expect that you would be at least a little bit happier to see me?” He was starting to look hurt. But not angry, not displeased. More concerned than anything, and that was when most of your worries started to disappear. He was your Sylus. He really was.

“I am happy to see you. I really am.” You said truthfully, the fear slowly dissolving. “What are you doing here? How did it happen?.”

“When you left me, I was worried to death. I had to come see that you were alright for myself.” He said, not taking his eyes from you. “I found a path between our worlds, and first I sent Mephisto after you. And that was how I knew you were fine, just busy.” He started explaining slowly and put two fingers at the bridge of his nose. This gesture was so familiar that you felt a slight pang in your chest. “Which l understand. But you stopped visiting completely and I panicked that I lost you. And that you lost your interest in me. And when you logged in today I guess I just lost control over myself.”

“I had to see you. I had to feel you. I needed to know that you will never leave me like that again. But how could I be so sure if you thought I was not real, sweetie?” His voice carried a hint of a ridicule. He smirked slowly and you allowed yourself to relax. You spend so much time with him on your phone, that you knew when he really needed reassurance. And it was the first time you saw him being so honest about his own feelings.

You decided to step closer to him and his eyes widened slightly. His body tightened because of the sudden change in proximity, and when you gently touched his hand, bringing it to your mouth, he appeared to be rendered speechless.

“I would never leave you, Sy. At least not without saying goodbye first. You are my safe space, remember?” You said quietly and smiled at him brightly, reminding him of what you had written in your game bio. And then you brought his knuckles to your lips and placed a soft kiss upon them. His hands were much warmer than you expected them to be. They felt harsh, but gentle.

The next thing you heard was a soft grunt and you felt yourself suddenly being lifted in the air. You yelped and found yourself pressed against his big, solid chest. Sylus hugged your body to his by wrapping both of his arms around your torso, and when he realized that you weren’t comfortable, he put one hand under your thighs and brought your body to his by your waist. You let your arms wrap around his neck and squeezed, and he buried his head in the crook of your neck. You heard him inhale your scent and his breath became rigged, as if he could not contain his excitement. You also became familiar with his scent. He smelled so manly and comforting, you could catch some notes of wood and leather, and something surprisingly sweet.

“You smell divine. You’re so soft, so warm.” He breathed against your neck and you felt goosebumps spreading throughout your whole body. You were so embarrassed, you felt like you needed to release some tension.

“I did not expect you to be so open with me. You’re usually the teasing type.” He chucked deeply and put his forehead against yours, while closing his eyes. Your cheeks burned. You couldn’t believe it wasn’t a dream.

“There will be a time for teasing you, kitten.” He rubbed his forehead against yours slowly. “Right now let me enjoy you for a bit. I can’t believe I finally got to see you.” He squeezed you harder to him. You reciprocated the hug with all you had. You were actually kind of scared that your grip was too hard, but he seemed to bask in it. “Communicating through that small device was not nearly enough for me. I could always see you and I heard your little responses to everything I was saying. But it took me some time to figure out how to change some things up.” Your eyes went wide at the mention of your reactions, you knew that a lot of times there were beyond embarrassing but you decided your blush to speak for itself. But what truly caught your attention was how he managed to appear in your home.

“Change things up?? You must have made such a mess, will it really be okay?” The concern in your voice made him look up and find your eyes with his. You were now looking at his beautiful red eyes, so full of adoration and determination. You could see that the consequences of his actions did not matter to him at all.

“Sweetie, I would gladly burn the world down for you, even if it meant that I could see you just once.” You swallowed audibly and proceeded to shy away from his piercing gaze. You started to feel unworthy of such attention, you couldn’t quite grasp what exactly made him care about you to such extend. “Fortunately for everyone, the process did not involve starting an intergalactic war.” He smirked slowly, his eyes finding your lips and staying there for much longer than necessary. “Yet.”

You chuckled at that and proceeded to bury your fingers in his hair, stroking the strands with care. They were so soft to the touch, they reminded you of silk. He closed his eyes and let you touch him to your heart’s content. Your hand quickly found its way to his forehead, and then to his cheek, stroking the skin delicately. You couldn’t believe how someone so handsome could really exist.

“See something you like, kitten?” He said and nuzzled into your palm, pressing a kiss right there. ”You will have all the time in the world to touch me, when we arrive in the N109 Zone.” He seemed so peaceful, so content with himself, but the mention of the N109 Zone stopped you in your tracks. You tensed visibly and he opened his eyes, noticing the change in your posture.

“The N109 Zone?” You asked puzzled. “Are you taking me away for a weekend?” You took your hand from his face and he used his Evol to bring it back to his cheek. The mist around your fingers felt weird, but not unpleasant.

“For a weekend? No, no.” He locked his eyes with yours, his head slowly closing the distance between you. He licked his lips and looked at your mouth once again. “I am taking you away forever.” And before his lips managed to touch yours, you flinched. Your hands quickly pushed him away and the panic returned to your features.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I meant what I said. Pack your bags if you believe there is something that I cannot provide for you quickly enough, and we will be off shortly.” He said matter of factly, kind of annoyed by the distance you decided to put between you. “Luke and Kieran have already prepared a room for you, although I think that you will have more than enough space for your belongings in mine.” His eyes brightened with excitement that you unfortunately could not share. Instead, you lightly pushed his torso, making him lower you to the ground grudgingly. His brows were once again furrowed.

“I can’t go with you Sylus. At least, not for forever”

“You can. We can stay together for the rest of our lives and no one would have any objections. I took care of everything.” He reached to grab your forearm and stroked it softly with his thumb. He was so sure of everything he was saying, that you could feel how much he let himself get lost in his fantasy. It did make you feel wanted, loved even. But no matter how happy you were that he was real, and apparently shared your feelings, you couldn’t agree to his plan.

“No, Sylus. I need to stay here, I have built my whole life in this place.” You could feel how much your words shocked him. He was looking at you so puzzled as if he didn’t think that you declining his offer was even an option. “I can’t leave everything that I managed to achieve, I really am content with my life, despite how complicated it can be.” You said truthfully. A part of you wanted to go with him, to feel safe and cherished for, for the rest of your life but you knew that was not realistic. You wanted to achieve more, you wanted to have your own life and your own space. You needed to be independent, to feel that you were perfectly capable of caring for yourself and your own needs.

“I do not understand. Don’t you want to be with me?” It pained you how quickly he jumped to that conclusion. And you hated the look on his face - it made you feel like you were betraying him.

”I do want to! Oh my god— I really, really do want to Sylus. I don’t think that I can live without spending time with you anymore.” You smiled at him, and took hold of his huge, rugged hand. “But I can’t live with you in the N109 Zone. I can’t leave my whole life behind.” And the fact that he wanted to make you do that somewhat scared you. Made you feel distressed.

“I see.” He sounded deep in thought. Then, he broke the eye contact for a second, looked at his hand in your hold and before you could even react, he grabbed your body gently with his Evol and picked you up. Your whole body was above ground and although you felt secured, you looked at him with surprise.

“What are you doing?” You wanted to get free from the hold of the mist, but it was impossible with how tight it was. “Sylus, you have to let me go.” You tried not to panic, you knew that you weren’t in danger. But he looked relentless, unforgiving as if his mind was already set in stone.

“No. I can’t. Not now when I finally got to have you.” He looked up at you, with his eyebrows still furrowed, and you could hear a hint of a growl in his voice. “If you do not wish to go with me, I guess I would have to take you by force.”

It was then that you felt a sense of panic. You knew him, and you knew that if he wants something, he always gets it. It just did not cross your mind that he would ever go against your own wishes.

“No. No, no, no, Sylus, please calm down.” He narrowed his eyes and stood almost motionless before you, devoid of almost any emotion. Almost, if not for the desperation shining through his movements. “You cannot take me away. At least not for now. But I will do anything you ask me to! You can also stay here for some time, and visit me whenever you want to, I swear, I would be so happy to have you.” You just needed him to listen. You knew that you could change his mind, he always listened to what you had to say, he just needed a little bit of persuasion. Maybe he didn’t even think about alternative options?

“And I would make you happy in the N109 Zone with me.” You laughed with disbelief. He was completely missing your point. You decided to once again yank your hands from the grasp of his mist, and then hissed with pain when it did not loosen up its hold. “Your struggle is futile, please stop, I do not wish for you to get hurt.” He was annoyed with you and your disobedience. He did not think that you would have any objections, he started loosing his cool.

“You would never let me get hurt.” You answered, wanting to assure yourself of it as well. You didn’t like how commanding he sounded.

“Yes.” There was no doubt in his voice. “Yes, you know I would stop at nothing to protect you.” His gaze never wavered from yours. He truly thought that what he was doing was for the best. And you just had to let him know how wrong his approach was.

“Yes! Yes I do know that! Because I know you, Sy.” You started to sound as if you were pleading. Deep down it scared you, send uncomfortable shivers down your spine. “I know you, and I know that you also know me.”

He placed his hand on his heart.

“And I adore every single piece of information. And I still wish to know you much, much better.” You tensed when you noticed that his right eye was starting to glow. You did not know if that was intentional, or just a trick of the light.

“Then you MUST know how much this life means to me. How much I like my stupid job, and how much I love the people that are here for me. My friends, my family.” You noticed that your reasoning started to get to him when he clenched his fists and avoided your eyes for a second. “And you have to know how much it would hurt me if you were to take me away from them.” He appeared taken aback. It seemed that his longing for you clouded his judgement, and now he started to notice the faults in his plan.

“But I cannot stand to be apart from you anymore, sweetie.” In normal circumstances that would be so touching to you. But nothing about this situation was normal, and you guessed you just had to show him how normal looked like.

“You won’t be. You can visit me anytime you want. Stay for how long you want.” You wanted that too. So bad.

“But that is not ENOUGH.” It was the first time you heard his raised voice and you started to tremble. His outburst must’ve thrown him off guard too, because he wavered and the grip he had on you loosed. You acted instinctively. You freed yourself from the mist and started to run towards your door. And although he was stunned by your reaction, he quickly teleported so that you ran straight into his chest. His hands grabbed yours in order to protect you from falling due to the impact.

He gently caressed your now slightly red forehead and sighed loudly. You could hear that he was hurt. You cried out from frustration.

“If you really thought that you could run away from me then you must be a total fool.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and lifted your chin up with his finger. “Usually I like playing cat and mouse with you, but I do not like the fact that you appear genuinely scared of me right now.” He hugged your waist and brought you closer to him, lowering his head at the same time. “And that you tried to run away from me when I only want to offer you my protection.”

“It doesn’t sound like protection, it sounds like imprisonment.” You used strong words, but you sounded so small. You did not know what to do with him, you were so scared. ”I’m just scared. I tried to run away because you scared me, Sylus.” You sounded desperate for him to understand you. To look past his own clouded vision.

“You do not have to fear me. I just want what is best for you. For us.” His grip on your waist tightened, and he also proceeded to grab your wrist.

“No. You only want what is best for you. You are not listening to me. I do care about you Sylus, but I cannot leave this place.” You tried to stand your ground but you two never argued before. It was an unfamiliar ground to you, especially when it was the first time that you had a conversation in person. Everything felt more intense and dangerous when you remembered the extreme measures he was always willing to take to achieve his goals.

“You can. And I will make you leave.” He almost growled and a cloud of black and red mist surrounded both of you, and that was enough to bring tears into your eyes.

”Sylus, no, please, I don’t want to. Please, just listen to me, please.” And it was at that moment he started to came into his senses. Your quiet voice and your eyes full of tears made his breathing stop. It was the first time he was seeing you react like this. He hated how broken you sounded. How small. “I’m so scared, Sy, please stop scaring me.” Your voice sounded choked and you could feel that the tears started streaming down your face. Every single one physically hurt him. It was your first meeting and he already made you so miserable. He wanted to scream. “Please.” You tried once again and it shocked you that it finally worked on him.

He tensed and released you from his grip. The mist also dissipated as he took a step back from you. You could hear him breathing deeply.

“I cannot do this." He sounded panicked. “I did not want to scare you, and I cannot listen to your little broken pleas. They break my heart.” He hidden his face in his hands and curled in himself. He felt as if someone pierced his heart with a knife and twisted it. He could not bring himself to look at your beautiful heartbroken face again. “They really do. Please, just stop crying. You won.”

You sniffed softly and touched your wet cheeks. You tried to calm yourself down, he finally listened to you.

“It does not feel so good this time for some reason.” You answered, referring to your Kitty Card battles. You wanted to relieve the tension somehow. You knew that he didn’t want to hurt you, you understand that he lives in a different reality where danger awaits everywhere. You could understand why he wanted to have you beside him at all times. But it scared you how insistent he was, how brutal and final. “Do you really understand why I got so scared?”

He nodded helplessly. “I won’t steal you away. Not when I know how much you despise the idea of spending the rest of your time with me.” You noticed how hard he was pressing his hands to his face and you grabbed them in your own. He let you uncover his eyes and you saw how much it hurt him to let you go.

“Oh, Sy.” You whispered and hugged his hands to your chest. “You know that’s not the reason.”

“Stop calling me that. It drives me crazy.” He breathed and met your eyes. “You drive me crazy. What am I going to do with you? How can I make sure you are safe now?” You took his hands and made him follow you into your bedroom. You sat on your bed and urged him to do the same. This way you could finally talk with him more comfortably.

“Sylus, we have to talk about it.” You squeezed his hands and he looked at yours and took notice of how much smaller they were in comparison to his. So fragile, so breakable. He couldn’t stand it. His whole body longed to protect you. “I do not despise the idea of spending my time with you. I just can’t randomly leave everything I know and love. And this world is different from the one you know, we have our dangers but no one wants my head.” You explained to him slowly. “There are no Wanderers. No protocores.” He looked conflicted.

“I already know that sweetheart. I do. But when you disappeared for such a long time I couldn’t help but think that something bad happened to you” he gritted through his teeth. “I nearly lost my mind looking for you everywhere. It was terrifying, that thought in my mind and the idea that I would never have another chance to speak with you. To see you.” He touched your forearms and brought you a little closer to him. “And when Mephisto found you safe and sound I thought that I never want to feel that fear, that helplessness again. And the only way to do that is to keep you beside me at all times. To guard you with my own body and soul.” He took your hand and rested it on his chest. You could feel the fast and steady rhythm of his heart. You could feel his desperation, his complete devotion. And it almost made you tear up.

“I-I’m so sorry that I made you worry this much.” He studied your face with intention and you shake your head. “But I didn’t even know that you were real. I really thought it was just a game that made me feel less alone and now…” You swallowed audibly. “Now I know that everything I built with you during our time together was very much real and I’m still having trouble to wrap my head around it to be honest.” I smiled at him softly and he nodded with understanding.

“And then you came in and wanted to kidnap me to a world much more dangerous than mine where I do not have my close ones and—“

“I did NOT mean for that to be a kidnapping I though that you shared my sentiment, and also wanted to spend some time—“

“SOME time?? Sylus you wanted me to switch literal worlds and live with you in your freaking villa in the middle of nowhere—”

”I live in an apartment that has a fantastic location, mind you, and you would feel so comfortable in—“

”Apartament??? You cannot possibly be a freaking leader of Onychinus and live in an apartment complex, are you being serious with me right now??”

“Have you ever heard of a saying that the darkest place is under the candlestick, kitten? Besides there is no one in the whole N109 zone that would pose an actual threat to me—” He cut off when he met your eyes full of laughter, and then he heard that beautiful sound. You burst into giggles right in front of him and you touched him by the bicep and brought his forehead to yours. He couldn’t help but chuckle too, understanding the absurdity of the situation. Feeling your forehead against his, hearing your adorable chuckles and inhaling your sweet scent made him feel so at peace that he closed his eyes to embrace the moment completely. He couldn’t believe that he almost ruined your relationship by being so selfish.

“I missed this. This back and forth with you” You said and he chucked deeply. “I really am happy to see you, Sy. And I swear that we will be able to talk and spent time with each other more often now. And actually see each other in person.” He nuzzled into your face more and you caught his smirk by the corner of your eye. “We can stay in touch at all times, so that you won’t have to worry about my safety so much.”

“So bossy, kitten.” He answered, but the small smile did not leave his face. He couldn’t make it go away even if he tried. “Forgive me for scaring you earlier. I was not thinking straight. I was just so elated to finally have you in my arms that I let my selfishness get the best of me, and for that I’m sorry. I did not want to ruin our first meeting, sweetie.” You hugged him by bringing your arms around his chest and he closed his eyes drinking in the proximity. You were too small, too adorable, too attractive for him to take it. Too honest. Too lovable. Made just for him to adore. To protect.

“You did not ruin anything.” You said into his shirt, hugging him tighter. “I understand you, Sylus. And I like you a little selfish if it means that’s what brought you to me” He smiled into your hair and reluctantly let go of your fragile frame. He touched your chin and delicately lifted your face up to face him. His eyes were once again drinking you in, committing every single one of your features to his memory. He sighed contentedly.

“Selfishness was not the reason of my visit.” You could see how his eyes softened and you felt your chest squeeze. You brushed his cheek, loving the way how he seemed to relish in your touch. His eyes wandered to your lips: pink, plump and so inviting. “Adoration was. The complete love and devotion that I have felt for you for quite some time now.” You gasped quietly and opened your lips slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Sy—”

“And I guess a little emotional push was what made me finally find my way to you, my beloved.” He half-whispered, leaned in, and pressed his lips to yours, locking you in a sweet, passionate kiss that went on and on, seeming to deepen with every minute you spent in his embrace.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄 ❞

❝ I CAN'T BREATHE WITHOUT YOU, BUT I HAVE TO... ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader (canon / multi au)

✧ summary: "would we love each other in every life?" it's the question you asked satoru the night before his battle, and he replied that, of course you would. but did that promise create a curse -- or were you both always cursed to begin with when it came to love?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, jjk manga spoilers (236 spoilers), multiple lives, assassin!reader x duke!gojo, actor!gojo x singer!reader, prince!gojo x knight!reader, model!gojo x photographer!reader, oral (f!receiving) in a car, semi-public, making out in public, pantyhose ripping, canon compliant except towards the end, angsty, but also bittersweet / implied happy ending

✧ wc: 6,589

“Do you think we would be together in another life?” you ask, not thinking much of the question, as your fingers draw lazy circles against his bare chest, your head resting right between his shoulder and chest. 

Satoru chuckles, vibration against your skin, “Of course we would, sweetheart,” his arms curl around you, tugging you higher, as he gazes up at you, “you think I could live any lifetime without you?” He murmurs, his lips finding yours, “I know we’d find each other, time and time again,” 

“How do you know?” your fingers brush against his cheek, shaking as he presses his cheek into your palm, a smile pulling at his lips. 

“Because, I love you,” he kisses you again, sweet lips gliding against yours, his breath warming your lips as he parts. 

“You did say love is a curse,” you give a small smile, and he presses his forehead to yours. 

“Then I’d want you to curse me — in every life.” 

“I swear on my life,” you press the dagger to his throat, blade digging into his formerly  perfect porcelain skin, drawing scarlet to the surface, “I’ll kill you, Satoru Gojo,” 

“I’m flattered to be a target of the infamous blueblood assassin,” his cerulean eyes glinted like stars in the candlelight, flames flickering across his eyes like burning comets, “but I didn’t think you would announce yourself as you did — what if I called for my guards?” 

You scoff, fingers flexing against the hilt of your dagger, “Then you would be dead before you uttered even a single sound and do you think I left your guards to chance? All of that schooling to be a duke and you haven’t learned a single thing have you?” 

“And what have I done to end up as your target?” he hums — as you bit back a sigh stuck in your throat — you preferred your marks to be much less chatty, but all he had was his mouth you supposed, “you only target the rich and the corrupt — and while I may fit the former, I do not fit the latter,” 

“You’re certainly sure of yourself,” and he’s unfazed by your reply, as his eyes wander the only thing visible of your expression — your eyes. 

“Since you have not stated my crime, I can only assume that I’ve committed none, and the infamous assassin whose morals could not be compromised have been,” and your grip wavers a moment, and he takes advantage of your hesitance to disarm you, and pin you to a nearby chaise all before the clatter of your blade hitting the marble floor, “and now what’s an assassin’s price who has done all of this for no reward?” 

“How do you know I’ve done this for no reward?” you squirm in his grip, but it’s ironclad, and you know all too well he could have broken from your grasp at any point, but he had chosen not to — your heartbeat roars in your ears as one question repeats again and again stuck between  beats — why? “I very well may have taken a payment you don’t know of — you act as if you know of me,” 

“Because I do,” the heir replies with a simple smile, “I have followed your work for a long time, and I found myself fascinated with what you do — and why you do it,” 

“Honored to have caught your attention,” you say in mock reverence, your arm beginning to ache, “now do you plan to call your guards?” 

“Didn’t know you were so eager to die,” he stares still, as you turn your head away from his piercing gaze, “shouldn’t you keep your eyes on your target or now your captor?” 

“Do you ever shut up?” You mumble as you flinch as you squirm under his grip, sleeve riding up ever so slightly — and then he sees it. His eyes narrow, as his hand grasps at your wrist now, “hey! Don’t—“ 

In a moment his fingers nearly rip the fabric of your tunic to tug your sleeve up —  angry red cuts and purple bruises litter your arm. Your breath catches as his eyes stare for several moments before sliding back to you — no longer a placid pool but a raging ocean. 

“Who did this to you?” he says quietly, and you’re blinking, nearly slack jawed, as you try to rip your arms away, but he won’t let you, “who is it? Is it the same person who told you to kill me?” 

“Stop—“ 

“Is it the same person who’s taken someone important to you?” and you grit your teeth in silence, “is it the little orphan you adopted? Yuji?” 

And your eyes snap to his, “How do you know this? Who are you?” 

His lips curl,  “You told me yourself, I’m Satoru Gojo,” and his fingers brush your cheek, “it’s a shame you don’t remember where we first met — because I never forgot,” 

You furrow your brow, “What are you talking about? I think I’d remember you. You’re…” you jerk your head, eyes looking him up and down — lingering on his white hair and eyes, “distinct,” 

“Well what if I had black hair and green eyes, would you remember then?” And he whispers your name in your ear, and you pause, “the fireworks were nothing compared to you,” 

And your breath catches — “You? But—“ 

“I had snuck out, had a disguise and everything, and I had planned to explore the festival alone but who do I find but you?” His grip on you loosens only to pull you a little closer, “the girl who had stolen two steamed buns and pinned me with part of the blame, making me run after you—“ 

“You didn’t have to run—“ and he snorted. 

“Well, it was that or get caught sneaking out — so I chose the lesser of two evils,” you can’t help it, your fingers trace the curve of his jaw to the back of his ear, “are you seeing if I’m defective?” And you find it. 

“No, he—“ you stop yourself, “you had gotten a small cut right behind your ear, it was deep enough that it would have left a scar behind,” and he had gotten a small cut from one of the soldiers who had grabbed them, bucking him with his sword, before you wrenched him out of there. The two of you spent the rest of the night eating food and sneaking around guards. And then finally climbing up on a rooftop to watch the fireworks. 

“How did you—“ 

“One of my father’s advisers found me later that night, in exchange for never sneaking out again without telling him, he said he would keep tabs on you,” 

You have no words, but one left — “why?” 

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, “maybe it was because I’ve been surrounded by nothing but my family’s yes-men, and you were the one person who treated me like a person, maybe it was the fact that day was the only day I actually had fun,” and he glances at you, “or maybe it was because I was drawn to you,” 

And you snort a little, “Do you believe in that fates nonsense they fed all of us as kids?” 

“I think fate is a very real thing, and I think it’s up to us to seize it,” he releases you, holding your hand before bending to press the barest brush of his lips against the back of your hand, “so, will you seize it or continue to evade your fate?” 

“We’ll never be able to evade the press if you do this,” you whisper, as he presses you against a wall of a secluded pillar of whatever place they had chosen to have this awards show, “and our teams will definitely chew us out if we don’t make an—ah,” you gasp, as his teeth nip at your neck, “Satoru, don’t leave a mark,” 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he licks his lips, as he leans up, his normally messy white locks combed and parted to the side, his lips kiss bitten red from the liplock he had you in for the last ten minutes, and his white suit slightly ruffled and pressed against you, “you taste so sweet,” his thumb runs down your puffy lips, “and the desserts tonight sucked,” 

You chuckle, your fingers toying with the hair resting against his undercut, “Think you would have been pleased with receiving the award for best actor, is that not enough Mr. Gojo?” 

“The only thing that pleases me is my gorgeous wife’s singing and,” his lips find yours in a desperate kiss, and you could taste the fruity mocktail he had earlier on his lips, “and her moans when she’s under me,” his hand slides under your dress, dragging over your pantyhose clad thighs, “do you think anyone would notice if you came back without these?” 

“Yes, I do,” you gasp as he tugs at the delicate fabric, “Toru, we shouldn’t—” but your pleas are half-hearted, as his lips drift to press butterfly kisses up your jaw, “you deserve me insane,” 

“I know,” he chuckles, “that’s why you love me,” and you hum, your noses brushing before you meet lips again, “I love you so much,” 

Your fingers cup his cheek, as he leaned into your touch, “I love you too — don’t you want to enjoy all the accolades, the interviews, the congratulations? You won such a big award, Toru, I want you to celebrate,” 

“I am celebrating,” he grins, tilting his head, “I’m surprised at you, princess — and you’re the smart one between the two of us,” he teases, as he turns his head to kiss your palm, “in an entire ballroom full of people in there and all the places in the world, there’s no one place I rather be with than here with you.” 

“How did I end up stuck with you?” you grumbled, your armor weighing on you heavier than other days, as you stood in front of your prince — the little sun of this kingdom and the future king, the man you were sworn to protect for the rest of your earthly days, and your best friend, for better for worse, “if the fates have written it, I must have done something horrid in a past life,” 

“Do you really believe in that garbage?” Satoru raises an eyebrow, as he places his sword down from practice, waiving off his training partner, as he wipes off his sweat with a towel offered by a maid, “You know that stuff they fed to us so we wouldn’t throw tantrums during classes — so we didn’t turn into slugs for our next life,” 

“Why turn into one when you are one already?” you smirk, and he rolls his eyes, as he runs his hand through his hair. 

“Has a slug ever looked this good before?” and you roll your eyes. 

“Think your ego is going to be so large by the time you become king, your crown won’t sit atop your head correctly,” you sigh, rising to your feet, “now we must get you cleaned and dressed, you have a meeting with the—” 

“I actually cleared my schedule for the rest of the day,” and you blink, frowning. 

“His Majesty will not—” 

“His Majesty will be fine — old man hasn’t kicked the bucket over the last fifty things I’ve done — I doubt this will be more than a ten minute lecture on decorum, fifteen if I decide to poke the bear,” he throws you a grin, as he pulls on a fresh shirt, “come, I have something to show you,” 

“Show me?” you repeat, before his hand finds yours — his hands are smooth despite the constant swordplay and practice he put in — he supposed he owed that to the royal staff, tending to his looks as much as they did his health. The same could not be said about yours — riddled with cuts and calluses alike. Your cheeks burned as your unkempt hand held his — “your highness, this is—” 

“‘Your Highness?’” he repeats, throwing you a smirk over his shoulder, “when have you ever called me that?” 

The appearance of holding your hand as he pulled you down several hallways through the palace was beginning to attract the attention of several gawking onlookers. Your cheeks burn — and you’re not sure if it's from the stares, his words, or the fact he was still holding your hand as you both arrive outside his chambers. But you can’t stop him — but you never could stop him when it came to this, could you? It reminded you of the times he dragged you through the gardens, wanting to show you the rabbits’ hidey hole he had found in the corner of the royal gardens. 

“Well I was made an official royal guard and appointed as your personal guard yesterday so I thought a little professionalism—” he unlocks his door, turning to look at you, a smile pulling at his lips. 

“There’s no need for decorum between us, now is there?” his fingers find a stray strand of your hair, and presses his lips to it, as he opens his door. You glance inside to find a lovely decorated cake and a present wrapped perfectly on the table, “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” 

“What—but—” and your mind realizes the date, “how did you—” 

“You think I’d ever forget your birthday?” he tilts his head, as your eyes slide to him, “it’s the day we met,” 

It was — the day you were brought from your home with your father who had been the king’s royal guard for many years, you were brought to be the prince’s — but you didn’t know you would find more than that in him. 

“I didn’t know you did this for your personal staff,” you teased, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth, “I certainly can’t imagine what they would think of you inviting a woman to your room for it,” 

“Well, you are my personal guard, you’re here to personally guard me against anything, right?” and this was the nature of your relationship wasn’t it? Teasing and goading — toeing that line of proprietary before one of you eased off. 

“It seems like I need to guard you only against yourself, your highness,” 

“Satoru,” he corrects, his eyes sliding to you, as he says your name with a softness that you wished he wouldn’t, “you had no issue calling me that before,” 

“We were only friends then, I’m your guard now—“ 

“Do you kiss all your friends?” And your cheeks flare, as your gaze refuses to meet his. 

“That was—a mistake,” you whisper the last two words, “we can’t do this—“ 

“Why not?” You turn away, your eyes sliding to the cake, a frown pulling on your lips. 

“Because you have a duty to your people and I have a duty to you,” and his fingers find your shoulder gently, giving you leave to pull away — but you can’t, you couldn’t. 

“My only duty I desire is the one to you—I love my people, but I can’t be the king they deserve if you’re not the one beside me,” your gaze still cast downward, “I will cast away any responsibility, if I could have a chance with you, sweetheart—“ 

“The king has discussed your engagement with me,” you murmur, “he told me he plans to have you engaged with a princess from a neighboring—“ And his arm is wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer — your gaze lost in the endless blue skies of his eyes, “we can’t—“ 

“I’ll find a way,” and you scoff. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you mutter, and his warm palm slides against your cheek. 

“This isn’t me promising to find a unicorn when we were five, Princess,” and you chuckle at the thought of his child self trudging into the woods with carrots in hand and what he thought was fairy dust (it was ladies’ finishing powder), “I swear that we’ll be together,” and he reaches into his pocket, and holds a small box, opening it to reveal a beautiful infinity pendant, “and this is my promise,” 

You bite your lip, staring at the silver glinting in the sunlight trickling in from the windows, “Satoru—“ 

“Finally giving in?” And you sigh. 

“How can you be sure we’ll be together?” He chuckles, as he gently turns you, making you face the mirror in his room as he places the necklace delicately around your neck, his fingers brushing against the skin of your neck before he clasps it. His arms slowly slide around your middle as he meets your gaze in your reflection, lips curling. 

His lips press a sweet kiss to your cheek, “Because I know I’d choose you, again and again.” 

“Why did they choose him as my model again?” You groaned as you looked at the list, tossing it back on your desk, “he’s so impossible to work with—“ 

“The shoots are finished quick—“ your boss replies gruffly, as he stands with his hands in his pockets, “and he said he’d only shoot with you. Said he likes your work and you’re the only one who can ‘capture the real him,’ some crap like that,” he shrugs. 

“Yaga, I can’t keep dealing with this man, can’t he shoot with anyone else?” 

He sighs, scratching the back of his head, “Look, the magazine we’re working with chose him as the model, and he said he would only do the shoot if you did it,” 

You sigh, leaning on your palm, elbow against your desk. “you’re not giving me a choice are you?” 

And no, he wasn’t. 

Because now you were at the studio for the sight of the shoot, getting everything ready that you could before your model arrived. You made sure his preferred makeup artist and hairstylist were available, you picked out his favorite snacks, got his preferred lighting (to be adjusted when he was on set), and had your cameras adjusted for his light sensitivity. 

All of which reduced the amount of time you had to spend with this man — but not even the most divine snacks would stop him from running his mouth. 

“Sweetheart,” you turned to see him, “miss me?” 

“When pigs fly, maybe,” but your words don’t faze him, a mock pout on his lips, “why do you request me to do your shoots, Gojo?” 

“Because it’s the only way you’ll see me,” and you sigh, as you continue to adjust your camera again, “you still haven’t given me a chance—“ 

“I gave you one chance, wasn’t that enough?” Before you turn to him, “look, I’m here because I have to be. I want to shoot — get in and get out and not have to—“ 

“One chance to talk to you — please, even if you don’t believe me or forgive me—“ 

“Fine,” you shake your head, frustrated, “go finish the shoot and we can talk for five minutes after,” and maybe he would stop forcing you into this situation. 

Satoru Gojo was the top wanted model by all the agencies — agencies were looking to snipe him and others were looking to have exclusive deals with him — whether it was photography businesses or brands. 

You couldn’t blame them, as you adjusted your lights and took a few test shots — he was gorgeous, even by model standards. From his skin to his body to his attitude, it was effortless for him. Even a bad angle or bad lighting did very little to detract from his flawless look. 

The chiseled cut of his jaw put statues to shame, his eyes shone brighter than the shiniest gemstones, his charm the envy of the love goddess herself, and his smile was enough to change hearts and minds alike. 

The shoots always look little time — the part that took the most time was choosing the best shots — you’d love to take one bad picture of him. Even for yourself — but that had proved impossible. Even deprived of sleep in the hours of the early morning, he was perfect. 

Perfect — except for his loyalty, you supposed. 

How had it gone so wrong so fast? And how did you let yourself become so carried away that you thought you were different from the others he bedded? 

And the shoot was over in a moment, and just like he said, Satoru was by your side as you begin to break down the equipment, as the other staff filed out, “can we talk now?” 

“If you have to,” you would give him an ear, but it didn’t mean you’d give him anything else.

“I never cheated on you—“ 

“Bullshit,” you reply, as you pick up the tripod you set up,  “I guess you didn’t the full five minutes,” 

“No, I didn’t—what you saw—“ 

“I saw you kissing another girl all over social media—“

“You saw me with Suguru,” he sighs, “and we weren’t kissing — we were hugging. You thought it was kissing from the angle of the picture, and before I could explain, you had blocked me on everything,”

You pause, “Suguru?” You repeat, as you pull out your phone and pull up the picture — black hair, hair half up, and they could have been hugging. And Satoru pulls out his own phone and shows you a selfie he took that same day, the meta data matching, “oh, oh fuck,” 

“Was that an apology? Not familiar with those coming out of your mouth so—“ 

“Satoru, I’m so sorry,” you murmur, “I saw the pictures and I heard the rumors and I assumed the worst of you,” you run your fingers through your hair, “even though I knew you better than that,” 

“You did, but I understand why you thought that,” he shrugged, “we had only been seeing each other for a month, but it meant something to me,” his voice softens.

“To me too,” you shake your head, “I’m so sorry, Satoru. I don’t know how to make it up to you,” 

“I know,” he smiles, “have dinner with me,” 

You blink. “why?”

“What do you mean, sweetheart? Everyone eats dinner, it’s a—“ 

“Satoru,” you sigh, “I didn’t believe you, I didn’t trust you, how can you forgive me like that? How could you want to be with someone like that?” 

“Well, you made a mistake — you forgave me for the other mistakes I made during our time together, and if I hadn’t let my team convince me that my fake reputation as a playboy would help sell my image — maybe we wouldn’t have been in this mess to begin with,” his fingers brush against yours, “besides, I want to believe in second chances — because I’d want to believe you’d give me one too,” 

Your fingers intertwine with his, “Even when I don’t deserve it?” 

And he lifts your hand to his lips, blue eyes glinting like an ocean dabbled in sunlight, “All the more for you make up for, right?”

This wasn’t right. No. No. 

“Satoru, Toru, please,” your fingers cupped his face, your fingers smeared with his blood as Maki pulled gou away, “no, no!” You don’t remember screaming, but you know you did because your throat was raw, your tears streaming down your face as your hands shook, staring at the dried blood on your fingers. 

He promised you he would win. He promised you he would come back. He promised you a life, a family, a home — something beyond jujutsu. 

And now you were left with nothing but that. 

“I’ll come back,” he had murmured in your ear the night before, his fingers tracing your cheek, “there’s no way I won’t. Have you ever seen me lose?” 

You give a small chuckle, “You just got trapped in a box for almost twenty days?” And he pouts, as he tilts your head up, fingers sliding against your cheek. 

“It was a one time fluke, sweetheart,” and his lips grazing your lips, “and I’m here now aren’t I?” you hum, “and I’ll always be there,” 

“In every life?” He smiles. 

“In every one.” 

In every one — except this one.  

“One would think you’re helpless, if you pout like that,” you teased, as you crawl into bed beside him, a smile on your lips, as he tugs you steadfast into his arms, “it’s only been a few minutes,” 

“It felt like a lifetime,” he presses a kiss to your head, “Is he asleep?” And you nod, a sigh on your lips as you settle into bed.

“After about twenty minutes of arguing, he passed out while I was telling him a story. He’s still not accustomed to this mansion,” neither were you — you had spent a few nights lying awake after jerking from the clutches of sleep — the paranoia still rampant in your mind. But those thoughts were a little farther now as you lie against his chest, heart thrumming under your body — the very heart you were meant to stop, and a chuckle escapes your lips. 

“What is it?” He raises an eyebrow, and you shake your head. 

“Why did you help me?” You draw circles on his chest, “you had every reason not to,” your fingers traced a line across his neck, “I even held a knife to your neck,” 

“And that was very attractive,” and you roll your eyes, “what? I like a woman who takes charge,” 

“Oh I know,” you chuckle, your lips pressing sweet kisses to his neck, “but I still don’t understand — you had every reason to distrust me, we barely knew each other, and yet—“ 

“You were still the girl I fell in love with that night,” he murmurs, “I just knew you were something special and when I saw what you were doing — trying to uproot corruption, I knew I was right. And I knew I had to make you my duchess,” 

“Well I’m not your wife yet,” you tease, the words barely out of your mouth before he’s got you pinned under him, “Toru—“ 

“Now, I told you I was going to seize my fate when I saw it,” and he kisses you, stealing every thought from your mind and every breath from your body, his touch filling you with warmth in return, “and I see it right in front of me,” 

“And what does it look like?” you smile against his lips, as he leans down to kiss you again. 

“Bright.” 

“Is it just me or do these paparazzi lights get brighter and brighter each time?” you rub your eyes as the two of you slide into your car for the night, the driver setting off towards your home. 

“I don’t know, I was too busy being blinded by my gorgeous wife,” and Satoru’s hands are all but under your dress, sliding up and down your sides, before one cups your cheek, “did i mention how incredible you look, sweetheart?” 

You hum, “about a million times,” your fingers slide against his shoulders until he’s practically lying on top of you against these leather seats. 

“That’s a million times too little — you look incredible, sweetheart. This dress was made for you,” and his lips taste as sweet as his words, your fingers sliding into his snowy locks while his slide against your bare thighs, “and I can’t wait to take it off when we get home,” 

“You’re going to take it off now if your hands slide any further up,” he draws a shiver from you as his hands do just that, daring further up your thighs, “Toru—“ 

“Don’t worry, the partition is up and it’s just you and me, sweetheart,” and he’s sinking to his knees on the floor, as his hands slide up your dress, “just keep your voice down, don’t want anyone hearing my wife, do we?” And his lips are grazing your inner thigh, his smirk against your skin, “good thing I relieved you of those pantyhose, huh?” 

“Toru,” you whined, as his fingers parted your thighs, and he could see your all too soaked panties, a damp patch and the fabric nearly translucent while it clung to your clit, “please—“ 

“So needy — and now that mouth of yours is being as honest as this one,” his lithe fingers tug aside the crotch of your panties to expose your cunt, “all this f’me? Been like this since our make out earlier? Surprised I didn’t see your cum drip down your legs,” 

And his words make you squirm, “Satoru, I swear to god—“ and his lips kiss your clit, as two fingers tease at your entrance, gathering your pre on his fingertips. 

“You don’t have to call me god, Princess — just Satoru is fine,” he murmurs as his lips close around your clit, as his fingers work inside your walls, a delicious stretch that draws a pretty gasp from your lips, your head falling back against the leather headrest. 

The sounds of the squelch of your cunt and the slurping of his lips against your clit rang in your ears — your fingernails digging into the seat as your other hand clamped over your lips. 

“That’s it, just like that, Princess,” his tongue darts out to  drag circles around your clit, while his fingers find the spot that makes you see stars. 

“I’m—“ you manage, before you’re cumming around his fingers and lips, your toes curling as you do, head back against the headrest. Your eyes find him to see him looking all too perfect even ruffled, as his lips were glossy with your release, tongue darting out to clean it, before he licked his fingers one by one. 

“And you were worried about the paparazzi noticing your missing pantyhose,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, a smirk against your mouth, “let’s hope no one saw that,” 

And there’s a sharp rap on the window, “Sir and madam? We’ve arrived,” and his lips quirk, as he adjusts your clothes, cleaning your smudged lipstick with his thumb, as you reach up to wipe his lips where the lipstick had gone. 

“Shall we celebrate my win properly?” He opens the door and slides out of the car, holding out his hand for yours.

“As we always do?” And your fingers find his, as he presses his lips to the back of your palm. 

“Always, Princess.” 

“Are you ready yet, Princess?” Your Prince’s arms slid around your waist, his lips already at your neck, as his ocean blues met your gaze in the mirror, “how lucky is our kingdom to have such a lovely future queen? And how much luckier am I to have her as my wife?” 

“We do not know if the people will approve of me still, Toru,” you murmur, eyes shying away from his, your fingers finding the infinity around your neck, “you promised me forever, but will they grant it to us?” 

“Do you have such little faith, sweetheart, in your future husband?” His fingers find your chin, tilting it upwards to meet your gaze, “I’ve already done the impossible — I charmed you over the last two decades haven’t I?” 

“More like wore me down,” and he pinches your cheek, before he presses a kiss to the affronted skin, “re-defined the long game,” and he kisses your nose, “and stole my heart and soul while I wasn’t looking,” 

“I never steal,” he smiles that same smile that was emblazoned in your memory all those years ago, when he emerged from the woods with not a unicorn, but a baby fawn he had frightened from very same thicket, “I only take what was given to me,” he smiles, “and you willingly handed over your heart the moment you let me into your life,” 

“What was I thinking?” you murmur, cupping his cheek, “now I’ll have to deal with the politics of a kingdom for the rest of my days,” 

His lips curl widely, as his lips find yours, a heat that simmers into passion and then into simple love, “I promise, in exchange, I’ll spend the rest of my days making you the happiest you’ve ever been,” 

“The happiest, huh?” you murmur, foreheads pressed together, “that’s a tall order, so you think you can do it?” 

“I know I can,” he smiles, his arms pulling you impossibly closer, “because I’ll never trying to make you happy, Princess.” 

“You’re far too happy with this arrangement,” you say through the door, arms crossed as you pressed your back against it, “I don’t want to come out,” 

“You agreed to this, c’mon sweetheart, you’ve taken countless pictures of me—“ 

“You’re a model — it’s literally your job,” you glare at him through the door, “I’m behind the camera — not in front of it,” 

“But you’re just as beautiful in front of it as you are behind it,” and you can hear his pout through the door, “if you really don’t want to, sweetheart, I won’t make you—“ 

And the door opens, your lips curled in a pout as you emerge in a cerulean gown — the same color as his eyes, the very same that widened upon seeing you. 

“Was this necessary?” you squirm in place, as he bites his lip, eyes raking over you, “Toru—“ 

And he’s in front of you in an instant, his arms winding aaaaaaaaround your waist, “I want to kiss you so badly, but I’ll mess up your makeup,” your breath catches, so his finger brushes against your lips and presses it to his own lips, a little of your lipstick sticking to his lips. 

“Toru,” and his lips quirk at the nickname, “why do you want to take pictures of me?” 

“Because, I want pictures of you that are just for me,” he gently takes your hand, pressing a kiss to your wrist, “because I’ll never have this moment with you again, but I’ll have these pictures with you,” 

“And when do I get pictures that are of you and just for me?” And he presses a kiss to your head. 

“Anytime you want,” he murmurs, “we have all the time in the world, don’t we?” 

Time — that was the one thing Satoru Gojo always lacked. It felt as if his whole life was an hourglass, waiting for the sand to run out — and the one time it came close, blood seeping like sand through his neck, he was able to turn it on its head, until time was on his side agai.  

He wasn’t sure if time was on his side now.  

He could only see the winter sky above — flecks of white he could think were snow but never be sure if that was his vision going blurry. He couldn’t feel anything — but he heard the all too distant squelch of his blood against the ground, the sounds of footsteps, the feeling of his body being lifted, a smile still on his face.

He was going home — the one person who always made his world right side up — the only person who could catch the sand that slipped between his fingers and hold it between warm palms. He forced his body to keep running — to keep going, the flow of cursed energy may have come from the stomach and his brain may be able to power his reversed curse technique — but that didn’t compare to his will to make it home — make it to you. 

“Toru! Satoru!” he couldn’t will his eyes to open, only managing the barest flutter of his eyelids, “it’s okay, Shoko’s got you, I got you,” you murmur, a soft brush that must but your lips. 

Love was always the most twisted curse of them all — and he knew it had always been a curse to love him. Anyone drawn into his orbit seemed only doomed to fall around him — whether it was by their choice, his choice, or fate’s choice. 

Fate. That was a word he never had put a lot of stock into. Suguru always said there was a certain order to things — sorcerers were made to defend humans, and that was our duty. He had replied that fate was an excuse for people too afraid to challenge the status quo. 

Maybe Suguru took that too seriously. 

When Suguru defected — Satoru knew something had to change — he couldn’t let others go even when they had that blue spring. The time that he had stayed frozen in — even as everyone else left, he still lived in those moments, and so he barely lived in the present at all. 

Not until you had shattered his self made prison. 

And it wasn’t without difficulty. 

He told you so many times that it was dangerous to love him, it was foolish to love a person like him with a constant target on their back because inevitably the target would shift to you. And he didn’t want to live in a world without you — but he could choose to, as long as you were the one who would live. 

But you were steadfast in your love, roots cracking through concrete until he was covered in your ivy, entangled so deep that there was no escape—because one look from you had stolen his reservations out from under him. Because loving you was as simple as breathing — it just was. 

“I would want you to curse me — in every life.” 

That’s what he told you the night before this battle — because he knew if he didn’t make it in this life, maybe he could be with you in the rest of them. But how many days would it take until you couldn’t remember the sound of his laugh, the smile on his lips, the way his face looked — because he always feared the same about outliving you. He would only want to outlive you, if only because he didn’t want you to have to bear the pain of outliving him. 

Love was twisted, he thought — as your lips brushed his, he could hear you whisper sweet nothings, falling on deaf ears, but heard all the same — once one found it, they cannot live without it — until they have to. 

His eyes flutter open, and he sees the blurry image of your face, scarlet smeared on your face, as his hand shakily lifted to your cheek, “I love you, sweetheart,” he manages barely a whisper, “I’ll see you again, I promise.”

Maybe he did curse you in the end — because your souls were bound together in existence — to fall into each other’s orbit and live together happily in every lifetime—

Your fingers gently shut his eyes closed, as tears streamed from your own — except in this one. 

“Is it really a curse to meet you again?” you had murmured that early morning, as dawn peaked over Tokyo, and his lips brushed against yours, “sounds like a blessing,” 

“You know that blessings often wear disguises — and words like that always carry a price—” but his lips curl, “but if the price is to meet you and fall in love again and again, I suppose I could pay it.” 

“‘Suppose?’” you repeat, and he laughs at your immediate pout. 

He kisses away your pout, as you slowly melt into his kiss, “Y’know I’d pay any price to fall in love with you again, sweetheart”

You smile, “Just stay with me in this one, that would be enough.” 

Did other lives matter when this was the only one he had fallen for you in this life? He wanted to stay with you here — in this moment, in this time — he wanted you in every life — not just all the others. 

And he vowed that he would— his fingers twitched— 

He would love you in this life too. 

✧ a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this one!! i had a lot of fun writing it. it might not be everyone's cup of tea but hey, i enjoyed it. although i questioned my writing ability a lot while writing it lmao

✧ taglist: @gojolova4eva, @xxemmarldxx, @gojolvrr34, @lilbrubby, @jaixxxsc, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @elaemae, @gojonegs, @captain-shittykawa, @sillyrabbitreads, @akumicchi, @satorustorm, @equikaz, @imaginativeghorl, , @dhoranbolt, @strawmariee, @catsgomurp, @that-goth-bisexual, @fushitoru, @dazailover1900

[koostattoos]

➳ wait for your love || j.jk

~ Synopsis — simply loving is not enough

~ Genre — strangers to friends(?) to lovers, college au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, slight fwb, unrequited love

Warnings/content — 3D jk, light angst, smut, major fluff, jk is a fuckboy, yearning, a lot of miscommunication, a lot of crying, smoking, slight drinking, he rides a motorcycle, oc is a bad b, big dick!jk, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, oral (f&m. receiving), 69, soft sex, missionary, doggy, aftercare (he's not a total asshole), multiple sex scenes, consensual sex tape, multiple orgasms, pining, complicated feelings, poor communication, bad boy!jk, ot7 cameo!

~ words ��� 25.6k

• currently play — we can’t be friends (wait for your love) by Ariana Grande and opera house by Cigarettes After Sex

“you got me misunderstood but atleast i look this good, we can’t be friends but i’d like to just pretend, you cling to your paper and pens, wait until you like me again, wait for your love

“i’ve got a love for you i just can’t escape, all of my love for you cuts me like barbed wire"

playlist <3

Love is a strange thing. A very complicated feeling to figure out yet some find it very simple. In this case, love is something that she found simple, it was something she was fond of when she saw her friends experience it. But he couldn’t find it in himself to feel it; he refused to. Deep down inside, he knew he couldn’t reciprocate the feeling of love. He tried so hard to, but he just couldn’t grasp on tight enough. So, he did what he did best, he let everything go.

~

 Jungkook can’t think straight. He’s been stored away in his apartment for the past few days. Unable to get up from bed and be productive, wasting away and rotting in his room. His roommate and best friend, Jimin, has been managing the place himself; cleaning, cooking, basically everything a home needs to function. He’s done everything he possibly could to get his friend out of his room. “Jungkook-ah, you need to get up. It’s three o'clock in the afternoon and I haven’t seen you all day, you need to eat” he calls from outside his door

 It’s silent on the other end of the room; only shuffling could be heard from his bed. Jungkook hasn’t heard anything back from you since your argument. It’s been radio silent from your end the phone. He constantly checks his phone to find something from you. He misses your voice. He misses you. He couldn’t bring himself to bother you even more. Not after the damage he’s caused to you and your relationship.

Summer

The bell at the top of the door constantly rings through the busy cafe as customers come and go. It’s been getting busier as the weather outside begins to heat up with the season change. Your hair is kept away from covering your face with a hair tie pulling it away in a low ponytail. The air conditioner is blasting cool air and keeping the hot air where it’s supposed to be, outside.

“Order for Jihoon!” you yell over the bustling cafe. You’ve been told that summer is one of the busiest times of the year for the cafe, second to winter time. The bell rings once again with new incoming customers, you look up from the cash register to find a young man around your age entering with his friends. His big and bold eyes find contact with yours across the room. A smile is displayed on his face, deep dimples grow as he laughs at whatever his friend says. He parts from his friends as he walks up to you to place an order. “Hello, what can I get for you today?,” he stares up at the menu behind you, glazing through his options. “Uh, let’s see” he pauses.

“Can I please get three iced americanos and,” he turns to look back at his friends again. “Which one did you want?” he asked the boy with the blonde hair “The chocolate muffin” The boy in front of you turned back to you. “And the chocolate muffin,” he repeated

You ring up his order and hand him his receipt. “Your total will be fifteen dollars and twelve cents” he fishes out for his wallet in his pocket and hands you the money. He watches you as you continue with the register. “And can I get a name for the order?” 

“Yes, Jungkook” he smiles at you

For some odd reason, his heart rate picks up as he’s talking to you. A strand of hair falls in front of your face and he can’t help but notice how pretty you are. Jungkook’s never seen you in town before. Snapping out of his trance you place your hand out to give him his remaining change. “Alright, your order will be out in just a few minutes, Jungkook” Reaching his hand out, he takes the money and nods his head to you. “Thank you,” he looks down at your name tag and gives you a bright smile. “___” 

The kind look he gives makes your cheeks turn into a rosy red. Tucking the piece of hair that’s fallen out of place behind your ear, you smile back at him.  Jungkook walks back sitting at a small table his friends decided to sit at and takes a seat in front of his blonde friend. “She was cute,” Jimin finally says, having watched the interaction between you and his best friend.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen her around here before. She must be new to town," his other friend, Taehyung says. “Me neither, but she is pretty though,” He says as he plays with the small piece of paper you handed to him. That same smile reappears on Jungkook’s lips. “You should go ask her for her number, it’s been what? Years? Since you last got some” Jimin teases. 

“It hasn’t been years, dumbass. I just don’t want to jump into anything. I think it’s a waste of time”, It’s true. Jungkook hasn’t had a serious relationship since he was a junior in high school going into his senior year. He’s a senior in college now. Now he’s perfectly fine finding himself some fun, and by fun, he means sleeping with a handful of many different women; he doesn’t need a specific person to do that with. “Order for Jungkook!” your voice resounds in the now-settled cafe. Perking up at the sound of his name, the chair screeches across the floor as Jungkook stands up to retrieve his food. 

“Thank you,” he says again. “You’re welcome,” you give him a sweet smile. This time, Jungkook’s the one to blush. You watch as he gives you a small smile back, picking up his food, and turning back around to his group of friends.

“We miss you over here, it’s like nothing is fun anymore” You didn’t have much choice but to leave your friends back at your old school. The school here offered you much better opportunities than they did back in Gwangju. Taking a leap of faith, you packed your stuff and moved everything to Incheon. You knew little to no people here. Having never been here you had zero time to make any friends. Everything happened so suddenly you have had your main focus on trying to survive off of a fresh start. The move happened in the middle of summer break. 

Hoseok agreed to drive down to help you move all your stuff into your new apartment. The dorms were more expensive than you had thought, so getting a summer job and looking for cheaper housing was your best bet at living to see a new day in this new city. “I miss you guys too. You guys should come down here. Leave Gwangju for a bit, I feel like I haven’t seen you guys in ages” The rest of your friends decided to stay back and plan out their new classes for the new upcoming year. 

Sure, you were disappointed, but you didn’t want to hold them back from planning their future. They had been supportive of your decision to move three hours away from them. You had told them that they could visit you whenever they wanted to.

“Yeah, I know. I promise I’ll get everyone down there whenever we can, don’t have too much fun over there without me though!” he teases you over the phone. Laughing at him, you pull your keys out from your pocket to unlock your door. Stepping inside your phone is placed between your cheek and your shoulder as you balance holding your new house plant and a small box you had forgotten in your car. 

You close your door shut with your foot and place the box on your small dining table. Your apartment was small but big enough to fit two people. The living room wasn’t as big but your bedroom was a decent size. You don’t regret picking this place out, it was like living in a cot where no one could bother you. “How could I when you're the life of the party” you laugh. Hoseok shakes his head as if you could see him. “Hey, I gotta go now. Be safe over there and if you need any help I’m one phone call away. I love you” 

“Love you too, Hobi” Pulling your phone away you hear three beeps indicating the ending call. Walking over to the little window sill in your living room you place the overgrown plant there, making sure it’s angled enough to get the sunlight that it needs. Slumping down on the couch you pick up the remote laid on the armrest and turn on the TV. Playing whatever’s on as background noise. Sitting there and relishing your day, there’s one specific highlight of today that catches your attention. That boy who came by the cafe today, Jungkook. 

His bright boba eyes and his dimpled features play back into your head. His face is stuck in the forefront of your mind for the rest of the night. You hope that one day you will see him again

“No, I swear she looked just like Jessica Rabbit,” Jimin continued about the girl he saw on campus a few days ago. Taehyung was immersed in his friend’s story. But however Jungkook can’t find himself to indulge in his friend’s new ‘eye candy’ as Jimin liked to say. He found himself staring into space, thinking about you the whole way home. Jungkook has never found enough time to fond over some random woman he’s spent his time with. 

But he can not find a way to get you away from his thoughts. Something about you keeps pulling him in and he can’t seem to escape it. “Hey, Jungkookie. You good?” Jimin shakes his arm a bit. He doesn’t even realize that they are at their apartment already. He hadn’t realized how long he spent thinking about you. “Yeah, yeah I’m good” he shakes his head and pulls his keys from his pocket. 

Flipping the light switch to brighten up the room, the beeping of the door closing surrounds the room. “I’m gonna go wash up” Jimin watches as his friend walks over to his room. Weird. He thinks. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Jungkook turns to look over to Jimin. “Yeah, I’m good, '' he says as if it weren't obvious. Jimin walks closer to him, examining his face. “I don’t know it just seems like something’s bothering you” The worried expression growing on his face convinces Jungkook to fess up. 

“That girl, at the cafe, I can’t get her off my mind. We hadn’t even exchanged that many words and I can’t stop thinking about her,” He walks over to his couch and slumps down in defeat. A grin grows on Jimin's plump lips, taking a seat next to his young friend. “I knew it,” a smug look on his face. “Bro, I told you to ask for her number. She seemed into you too” he says with a nudge to his shoulder, enthusiasm growing in his tone. Jungkook rubs a hand over his tired face and stands up again. 

“I don’t know if she makes me feel something. I don’t know what it is but I don’t like it” You make butterflies erupt in his tummy, his heart beats faster, and you turn his cheeks rosy. Just looking at you he feels like he’s known you for a long time. And he’s just met you today. “I should just sleep on it, I’ll see how I feel in the morning. Who knows? Maybe I’ll completely forget about her when I wake up tomorrow” 

That was in fact, a lie. You were the first thing that popped up in Jungkook’s mind. Today he had a full agenda, it was registration week for classes. He wanted so badly to get rid of this feeling in the pit of his stomach. Walking into the shared bathroom, Jungkook walks in to get ready for the day. Through the mirror he sees Jimin emerging from his room, barely getting up from his bed. His shoulders slouched, his hair messy from sleep, and his eyes closed to still being closed from his slumber. 

“We need to be there by eight o’clock,” Jungkook tells him, mouth full of toothpaste. He gets a low hum in response from the kitchen. After finishing up in the bathroom, Jungkook walks out to prepare everything he needs. This is their last year in college, they needed to make the most of it. The screen of his phone lights up as he taps it to read the time. They had less than an hour to get out the door. Jungkook is ready with his things sitting next to him on the couch, he only has to wait for Jimin to finish. Nothing better to do than scroll through Instagram like random girls’ posts and keep up with the media. 

He somehow finds himself in his search bar. Moving his fingers over the keyboard, your name is what pops up. After searching for what had to be about a minute, he finds a picture of you smiling. You are with a group of friends surrounded by a table and playing what seems like a board game. Jungkook doesn’t notice the smile growing on his face until he hears Jimin walk out to the living space. 

“What are you smiling at?” He immediately shuts his phone off and looks up at his friend. “Nothing,” he says nonchalantly. “Let’s go I don’t wanna be late” Shrugging his shoulders Jimin walks over to his bag, sits on the chair at the dining table and walks to the door.  

When they got to the campus, which was only a fifteen-minute walk from their apartment, it was filled with college students. Some ran over to their friends that hadn’t seen in a while and some hung around, to themselves. Jungkook had slight hopes of seeing you here, registering as everybody else. Roaming the area he watches as different clubs set up booths, some standing by trying to get the freshman to sign up for their club. 

Jungkook has lost sight of Jimin, finding himself with his other friends. Now he’s by himself watching other students in his class lurk around, making fun of the lower class for being lost. It’s not until he finds himself on his phone again, looking through your profile again. It seemed like you liked to travel, you’ve been to Japan, Italy, and many other foreign countries. 

You seemed like a bubbly person, based on how you present yourself on social media.

His eyes found the clock again, and he had to get ready for his class. 

“Mom, I’m alright. I’m finding my way around campus. It’s big but I’ll get the hang of it. Stop worrying so much” Your mom has been calling you almost every day to check in on how you are settling in your new home. Of course, she was supportive but she was going to miss you. You’ve never been this far from your mother let alone living without her. You had your own apartment but it was still close to her. The bond you had with your mother was special to you. 

“Okay, honey. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay, I miss you”  It’s only a few minutes before your lecture starts and the class is almost filled with students. You hadn’t realized how many people majored in psychology “I gotta go, Mom. I’ll talk to you later,” placing your tote bag down next to you. You see the professor walk in with a book in his hand. “Alright, I love you and stay safe” 

“I will, I love you too” 

As you settle down in your seat you hear the door open again. This time, you see a familiar face. The boy you couldn’t stop thinking about walks down your row, sitting a few seats away from you. You don’t realize the butterflies flying in your tummy when you watch. “Okay, everyone” Your professor's voice booms through the room. “My name is Namseok but you can call me professor Choi” 

As the lesson is nearing its end you raise your hand to ask a question. “Yes, missis?” he pauses, waiting for your response

“___” Jungkook’s ears perk up at your voice. His head turned to the sound of your voice. “Yes, what are your questions?” Pulling your hand down to rest on your lap you speak up. “Are you available after class? I’d like to ask a few questions” Professor Choi shakes his head and walks back behind his desk. “Yes, please, come and see me after class and we will discuss whatever you need” Jungkook still hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since you spoke. Too immersed in how beautiful you looked today, out of your work uniform and in normal clothes. 

“Well it seems like class is over for today. Good job everyone and I will see you on Thursday” Everyone collectively stands up and makes their way to the exit door. You on the other hand stay behind to ask a few questions. Instead of taking the normal way out like the other students. Jungkook walks the opposite way, past you. Watching as a muscular figure walks past you, you look up to see his face. He’s already looking down to you and you can feel your warm cheeks express a slight red color. 

It’s until he turns back around to look at you that you fold. He was extremely handsome, how could you not?

Your shift at the cafe was about to begin. It’s the middle of lunch time and the cafe has become busy. Sometimes you regret not signing up for afternoon classes. Night shifts are the busiest with the many college students coming in to study. Once again the ringing bell flows through your ears as customers walk through the door. You have yet to make any true friends around here. The only ‘friend’ you have is your co-worker, Yejoon. She helped you out on your first day but she spends most of her time in the back making the food for hungry students. 

Too busy watching the TV placed in the corner of the room you don’t see the same muscle figure you saw in your lecture class. “Hey,” he says. Tattooed arm out on display, chains adorning his neck. His body doesn’t match his face at all, with cute boba eyes twinkling like there are stars in them, and a button nose with small moles placed haphazardly.

“You’re in my psych class right?” he says, holding his weight up with his hands on the counter. You look up at him with squinted eyes. “Yeah, I am. I saw you today at the end of class. Why didn’t you go out with the other students?” This question catches him off guard. He needed to come up with an excuse, quick. “Uh, there’s another door that leads to a different building, I have a class there” Smooth. Nodding your head, you look behind him and watch as the line begins to grow. “Jungkook? Was it?” he nods his head at you, ensuring you are right. 

“Well, Jungkook. If you don’t mind if you're gonna stay here and chit chat I suggest moving out of my line. I have a crowd of hungry college students and I don’t intend on putting up with their attitude” You say with a scrunch of your nose. Jungkook puts his hands up as if he’s surrendering and throws you a smile. “I didn’t mean to take long, I just came up here to ask you something” You look up at him with a raised eyebrow. “And what is that?” 

“Can I have your number?” Bold. You think. “If you step out of my line maybe I’ll consider it” you tell him and he steps to the side so he’s not in the way of customers. “Hi, I’m sorry for holding up the line what I can get for you” You ask the middle aged man that was after Jungkook. “You wouldn’t have to be sorry if you just told your boyfriend to fuck off” Shock is read all over your face. You are not in the mood to handle rude customers today. “First of all, sir, he is not my boyfriend. Again I apologize for the wait. It’s on the house,” you tell the man. Jungkook stands there watching the interaction go down. 

For some reason this makes him even more eager to get your number. You look over to him as you wait for the next customer to tell you their order. “This might take a while, take a seat anywhere you’d like” you point with your head as you tell him to wait. It’s not until the very end of your shift that you realize that he’s still here, waiting for you. 

You step away from behind the counter and take your apron off. “I can’t believe you waited” you say under your breath walking closer to him. He looks up as he sees you from the corner of his eye. The chair scraping across the floor as he stands from his chair. “Of course I waited, I made it my mission to leave this place with some sort of way of communicating with you” This surprises you. You’ve never met this guy in your life and now after a small meet he’s determined to get to know you. 

“Well, I’ll give you my Instagram. Number is too personal” he scoffs at that. Thankfully, he deleted your user from his search beforehand. Handing you his phone you type in your user and follow your account. Your pocket buzzes with a notification from your phone. Pulling your phone out you read the notification.

ggukkie has followed you

You smile as you read his user. You click on the tab and follow him back. His phone vibrates with a new notification and he reads your username

yeojacoure has followed you

Smiling as he looks up from his phone he says “I’ll see you soon then?” You pull your hair from your hair tie and he watches as it flows down your shoulders. “I guess so, Jungkook” He begins to walk away and before he can walk out the door he calls out for you. “Goodnight” you reply with the same.

Feeling giddy inside Jungkook unlocks his phone and finds your account opening your message. 

ggukkie: So how can I get your number?  7:43 pm

You look down at your phone as you exit through the back entrance. You read the text Jungkook had sent you only a few minutes ago. Smiling like an idiot you reply back. 

yeojacoure: By earning it 😉 [7:49 pm]

ggukkie: And how do i do that? [7:49 pm]

yeojacoure: Figure it out 😊 [7:50 pm]

ggukkie: C’mon don’t tease now [7:52pm]

yeojacoure: Not teasing [7:52 pm]

yeojacoure: You’re a smart boy, you can do it! [7:53 pm]

He smile he cannot contain spreads on his lips 

ggukkie: Alright, if working for it is what it takes then i guess that’s what i’ll do smh [7:53 pm]

When you think he’s done another text comes in

ggukkie: Are you free Saturday?[ 7:59 pm]

Your heart picks up once again because of him. What could he possibly have in mind? 

yeojacoure: Yes… Why are you asking? [8:00 pm]

ggukkie: Let’s hang out [8:00 pm]

You think about it for a minute. You were just complaining about 

having no friends in town. Maybe it’s time you make some. 

yeojacoure: Okay sure, what do you have in mind? [8:03 pm]

ggukkie: It’s a surprise 😉 [8:03 pm]

ggukkie: If you get to be all secretive on me then I can be too [8:03 pm]

yeojacoure: okay fine, as long as you don’t plan to murder me then okay [8:04 pm]

ggukkie: Why would I want to kill someone as beautiful as you? [8:04 pm]

This gets you to blush, hard. You feel like kicking your feet up and swinging them like a dumb teenage girl. You take a minute to breathe before responding back to him. 

yeojacoure: shut up [8:06 pm]

yeojacoure: I’ll see you Saturday [8:06 pm]

Jungkook smiles at your final text and finally starts to make his way back to his apartment. He hasn’t felt like this since his junior year of high school and it scares him a bit.

Days have gone by since Jungkook practically begged for your number at the cafe. You’ve seen him around campus but never bothered to interact with him. Except for your psychology class, he made the empty space next to you his permanent seat. It’s now Saturday, he was supposed to take you out today but he never told you a time or a place. Now you’re sitting in your little apartment semi-dressed for an unknown plan. 

You had given him your address in class, which he got in trouble for talking to your professor. He says it’s not far from where he lived and you remember he gave you a disgusting little smile.

It is getting darker now, the sun beginning to set behind the city and the lights illuminating the lively city. Now you are having doubts that he will even show up. “I don’t know, Hobi. He told me he’d pick me up but he never gave me a time and he hasn’t texted me or called me at all” you talk to your best friend over the phone.

“Relax, I’m sure he will show eventually. If he doesn’t show then why was he so desperate to get your number?” you sigh. He does have a point. 

 Your doubts are crushed when you hear your doorbell ring in your ears. “Oh my God, okay, he’s here. I’ll call you when I get back” 

“Okay, be safe and if anything happens and I don’t hear back from you. I’m driving my ass down there and calling the police” you chuckle at your friend. “I will, I gotta go” you click the red button to end the call.

You walk over to the door to look through the tiny hole on the door. Making sure you aren’t opening the door to some stranger. 

“Told you I’d surprise you” He says when the door opens. His eyes follow you up and down. You weren’t wearing anything special. A short off the shoulder long sleeve with a bow tying around the back and jeans. “Yeah, I started to doubt you’d even show up. It’s practically night out already.” you roll your eyes at him as you walk out the door. Not before grabbing your purse off the dining table. 

“Awh were you waiting for me” he teases. You nudge him with an arm as you walk side by side down the hall to the elevator. When it does arrive a small family comes out before you enter. Pressing the bottom floor Jungkook makes small conversation. “You look pretty tonight” you reply back with a small “Thank you,”  a blush starting to rise to your cheeks once again. “Where are you even taking me?” 

“Well if I tell you it wouldn’t be a surprise, but since you’re so insistent then I’ll tell you,” the door to the elevator opens as it stops on your desired floor. “I’m taking you around the city, I remember you told me once after class that you’ve had any idea around so I’m showing you” your heart picks up once again at the thought of him remembering little things that you said. It seems to do that a lot when you’re around him. 

When you reach the parking garage you don’t see any car in sight. “Where’s your car?” He walks up to a motorcycle and taps the back of it. “Right here” your eyebrows raise in confusion. He hadn’t told you he was picking you up in this. “You’re kidding me, right? We’re driving this?” a bit of hesitation can be heard in your voice. A smirk appears on his face as he watches your face full of worries. How cute. He thinks. 

“Oh c’mon, I drive safe. You have nothing to be worried about” he places gentle hands on your arms. You lean a bit to the side to look back at the vehicle. Looking back up at him you let out a sigh and reluctantly agree. “Atta girl” he picks up the helmet that was set on top of the bike. He pushes it into your arms, confusion begins to settle on your face. “What about you? What if you get hurt?” 

Your brows furrow once again in worry. He has the urge to pinch your cheeks from how adorable you look but he refrains himself and nudges your chin with his finger. “Don’t worry about me, hmm? I’ve done this plenty of times,” he moves to stand in front of you and he looks down at your small frame.

“Can you trust me?” he says.

You give him a look that isn’t convincing but you nod anyway. “Good, now hop on.” He moves to throw his leg over the bike and he kicks the stand up. You place the helmet on and do the same as him. “Now, hold on tight. I’m responsible for you tonight. Can’t have you getting hurt” he says, patting the side of your thigh. The loud roaring of the engine resounds through the big garage, making you jump slightly. 

When you get to the highway he picks up the speed and you hold his waist just a bit tighter, praying you don’t crash with his slightly reckless driving. His hand lets go of one of the handles and you feel him place it over yours intertwining your fingers.

As you ride through the city the lights from buildings light up the dark streets. Slight suspicion grows in your mind when Jungkook turns into a small alleyway. Nothing but trash bins aligned on a wall and a door leading into the building next to you. “Jungkook, where are we?” he pulls his hand out in front of you to help you off his bike, taking it kindly. You pull off the helmet and place it on one of the handles. “One of the places I want to show you” 

“One of these places?” he turns his head to you and gives you a small smile. “Big city means lots of places to discover” He pulls the handle of the door and you’re hit with loud chatter and warm light. It’s a small bar filled with laughter and low lights. It’s not as packed as it is outside in the streets. “Ya! Jungkook-ah,” you hear a deep voice call for Jungkook from one of the tables. A man with round glasses and a pretty smile calls him over to his table. “I haven’t seen you in a while” he brings the younger one into a hug. “Yeah, well I’ve been caught up with school and whatnot” 

The taller man’s attention is drawn to you now. You feel small under his gaze. “And who is this? A girlfriend?” he teases him, pulling him into a headlock. Jungkooks face scrunches with a smile displaying his bunny-like teeth. He pushes the older man off of him and fixes his hair. “This is a friend,” he corrects him. Jungkook looks down to you and introduces you to his friend. “___ this is Namjoon, an old friend of mine” 

“Hey! I’m not that old,” he slaps the younger one on the back of his head, you let out a snicker. “It’s nice to meet you ___, I see that Jungkookie here has finally come out of his shell” you let out a giggle. “Hyung, stop embarrassing me, gosh” he hides his face behind his hand. “I’m just teasing you” his gaze falling back on you. “So what brings you to Incheon?” you look down to play with the bracelet on your wrist. “Well, I was originally going to school in Gwangju, but I found out that they had better plans here for me than they did back over there,” 

“Ahh I see, I hope you find comfort here. It is a big city but you’ll get around. If anything you have me and Jungkook here to help you if you need it,” conversation begins to flow smoothly between the two of you. Jungkook had taken a seat next to you, placing his arm on the back of your chair as he listened to you converse with his friend. He can’t help but admire the way you look right now. Your smile radiates warmth all around and the way your eyes shine in the light. He feels like he can look at you for hours on end. 

“It was nice meeting you, I hope to see you soon” Namjoon’s eyes gaze over to Jungkook, with a smug smirk on his lips. Rolling his eyes at him he turns his head to the side shying away to hide his rosy cheeks. “It was nice meeting you too, Namjoon. I had a great time,” with a wave he turns the corner of the building and disappears into the night. It’s silent between the two of you now, you look up at Jungkook standing next to you. He looks down at you and furrows his brows, “What?” 

“What do you mean, ‘what’? Are we gonna stand here all night or are we going to have fun? Hmm,” a grin displaying on your face as you walk past him and lift the helmet off the place you left it. Chuckling Jungkook straddles the bike and looks back.

“Hop on” The roaring of the engine rings through your ears once again and through the small alleyway. The city lights have become slightly dimmer now that it’s getting later into the night. Fewer people roam the streets but still many young souls live their young lives with their friends. 

The drive to your next destination takes a bit longer. It’s close to leaving the city. The sign you read as you enter the small area is ‘Songdo Central Park’. The small streets go on for miles as booths pile up down the line. Jungkook parks on one of the many sidewalks and helps you with your bike.

“What is this place?” you say. 

“Central Park, I come here sometimes to clear my mind,” he walks mindlessly with you trailing behind him.

The lights of the monument in the middle of the park are bright lighting up the path. Walking side by side now, you watch as Jungkook takes in the cool, summer air, hands swaying next to each other, and fingers brushing against each other. You point at a booth selling candied fruits and tug on his jacket. 

“Can we get some?” your big eyes looking at his. How could he resist you? Obliging, he gives you a small shake of his head and follows you to the booth.

“Hello! What can I get for you?” the nice old lady asks.

Fruits skewered on a stick in her hand as she dips it in a sugary coating. “Can, please get, uhmm” you place a hand on your chin looking through the small collection of fruit. “Which one should we get?” you turn to Jungkook, who has been staring at you the whole time, and he looks over the tray of sweet snacks. “Let’s get one strawberry and a mix of both with grapes,” he tells the lady with a sweet smile. 

She grabs the fruits and places it in small trays for the both of you. “That will be five dollars, please” Jungkook hands her cash he had stored in his pocket. “Thank you!” you say as you wave her goodbye. Walking in silence enjoying your snack Jungkook can’t help but feel nervous now that he’s next to you. You bring the fruits to his lips and you place your hand underneath to catch the falling crumbs. “You want some?” he looks at your adorable face as you wait for him to take a bite. 

Taking the sweet red fruit in his mouth a piece of sugar falls from it, landing in your hand. You bring it to your mouth and take the hard sweet. Jungkook’s heart pace speeds up for an unknown reason and you continue on as if nothing happened, finishing off what’s left of your treat. Clearing his throat he asks, “How do you like the city so far?” looking ahead of him. A couple playing with their little dog as it runs around in the grass. 

Your eyes follow his and you can feel a smile grow on your lips. “I like it, but I feel like there’s only so much that I can explore in one day”

You walk over to throw both of your trash away and you find a bench in front of the small lake in the middle of the park. Walking over to it and taking a seat Jungkook follows suit. “I can show you so many other places if you’d let me” a grin growing on his lips. 

You look to the side of you and give him a small smile “I don’t know, Jeon. I’d have to think about that one” you laugh. “Oh c’mon, I know my way around the city. I can show you so much more” the night continues on with laughter and playful banters. You don’t notice the time passing until your phone rings with a notification. “Oh, shit. It’s getting late we should get going” Jungkook stands from his seat and stretches his hand out for you to grab. Taking it, he pulls you from your seat and he doesn’t let go until you find yourselves back at his bike. 

About an hour later, your apartment building comes into sight as you turn the corner of your street. Jungkook comes to a slow stop near the entrance of your parking garage and parks his bike. Taking off the helmet for the last time tonight you run your fingers through your hair making sure your hair was kept well. Hopping off, Jungkook places the helmet down on the seat of the bike. “Can I walk you?” 

“Yes, you can '' the look in your eye is something he can’t quite make out but it makes his tummy do backflips. You walk in front of him to the lobby of your apartment and press on the button with the arrow pointing up to the upper floors.

It dings immediately given the late hour of the night, assuming everyone is fast asleep by now. The ride up to your apartment was silent. The only sound in the small elevator was going up the few floors you lived above.

The door rings and its doors open wide for you to exit. You walked down the short hall and stopped at your door, turning around to face Jungkook. His hands are stuffed in his pockets as he looks at anything but you. Feeling the nervous crawling back into his chest. You are the first one to speak, “I had fun today, Jungkook '' your smile eases him a bit. “I’m glad you did, my offer still stands, you know” 

You think about the time you spent at the park, you are still taking it into deep consideration leaning towards saying yes to him again. You only respond back with, “I’ll think about it” he laughs, his head hanging low at your unclear answer. Sighing he looks past your head at the wall behind you. He builds up the courage to ask you again. “So, how about that number?” you burst out laughing. Covering your mouth trying to keep quiet in courtesy of your neighbors. “What makes you think, you’ve earned my number?” 

A hint of laughter still hidden your voice. “Well, I did take you out and gave you a good time. I think I deserve it” You think about it for a minute. “I’ve decided to make this easier for you, I’ll make it like an easter egg hunt” you jump up with enthusiasm. He looks at you with confusion, wrinkles forming between his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” 

“I’ll give you clues! You can earn each digit one by one” you say proudly. He chuckles at your antics, accepting you challenge him and he nods his head. “Okay, when do I get my first clue?” you look around trying to think of something clever. “Ahh! It’s in my address,” he looks up to the numbers on your door deciphering which one of the four numbers could be in yours. “That’s your only hint” 

“You really are a tease, you know that” , shaking his head. You only smile up at him, nose scrunched. “You should get going, it’s late.” 

“Yeah,” it’s silent for a moment before Jungkook speaks up one last time tonight. “I liked tonight with you ___,” you look down, shy. “I did too, Jungkook. You aren’t as bad as I thought you would” you tease him. Rolling his eyes at your gesture, he nudges the bottom of your chin with his finger and lifts his head looking down at you “I thought you’d be a handful, but I guess you're tolerable” you slightly push on his shoulder. He grabs your wrist and you both stop for a moment. 

You don’t realize how close you have become. Faces close together. Slowly leaning in, Jungkook's eyes gravitate to your soft, pink lips. Before your lips could touch your head moved to the side, whispering in his ear, “Goodnight, Jungkook” your hand leaves the nape of his neck and you turn your door. Before it could close, you locked eyes with Jungkook, one last time. 

Once he can’t see you anymore, Jungkook lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He turns to make his way back to his bike holding on to his chest where his heart lies. The feeling erupting in his chest feels foreign to him. Something he hasn’t felt in years. It scares him. It’s something he refuses to let himself feel. Maybe he just needs to sleep. Maybe he’s just tired from the long day he’s had. 

Hopping on his bike. He makes his way back home, thinking about the digits of your address, dissecting them. Determination stays on his mind for the rest of the night.

A small crowd of students file into the quiet library. Books surround you with knowledge of classes that you are taking. A pencil clad in your hand as you think of more notes to write down on your notebook in front of you. Jungkook has been texting you since the day he took you out. Asking you random questions throughout the day, but to your surprise he hasn’t said a single thing about your number. 

You jump a bit in your seat when the chair in front of you screeches against the floor. When you look up you see Jungkook’s handsome face, a chuckle coming from his lips at your reaction. “Hi” he says in a whisper. Shaking your head at him you go back to writing your notes. “How did you know I was here?” He watches as you write down words on your piece of paper. His tattooed hand reaches out and starts playing with the edge of the paper and you look up at him. “I was on my way to get some lunch and saw you through the window, you don’t work today?” his head tilts to the side like a puppy dog. You shake your head, “No, I have a day off today and I wanted to spend it studying. But I can’t do that with you bothering me” he rolls his eyes and lets go of the paper. 

It’s silent for only a minute before he starts speaking again. “When will you be done?” He's like a nagging child, always in need for attention. You let out a sigh of frustration and put your pencil down beside the notebook. “You don’t have any other friends you can annoy?” a small pout forms on his lips. Sulking, because of your attitude. 

“I wanna hang out with you” you try one more time to focus on studying. Opening one of the books lying beside you. A loud groan comes from the big baby in front of you and you quietly slam the book shut. “Fine! What do you want to do,” placing your remaining things into your bag and you stand from your chair to pull it over your shoulder. Jungkook beats you to it, though. Placing the white tote bag over his shoulder and carrying it out with him. Puffing a breath of air out you follow him to the door.

The weather is nice today, it wasn’t too hot like those other summer days. It seems to be cooling down. “Where are we eating?” you ask behind him. He turns his head to look back at you and slows his pace down to match yours. “This place that serves the most delicious pork belly,” his posture straight, determined to get to the restaurant as fast as possible. Before he came into the library he had already been planning to ask you out to lunch with him. 

He was originally planning on walking to the cafe, so he had been waiting a while. When you walk into the restaurant you are hit with the warm air with the scent of meat. To your surprise it wasn’t as busy as you’d expect it to be considering it being lunch hour. Jungkook picks out a table in the middle of the restaurant. Taking a seat in front of him, he grabs a menu that had already been placed there and picks out his favorite dishes. 

“Hello, what can I get started for you guys today?” The server walks up to the table with a notepad and pencil in his hand. His attention is drawn to you first. You look up at him and give him a sweet smile. His hair was wavy and dimples showed whenever he smiled. You look down to your hands resting on the table and you look at Jungkook. His stare already on you, clearing his throat he begins to order. 

Once it is written down on the notepad the waiter grabs the menus from the table. “I’ll be out shortly with your food” You nod your head politely and bring your attention back to the man in front of you. “You still haven’t given me another hint” He brings up again. Sighing with a smile on your lips you slightly shake your head at him. “You are never going to give up, are you?” 

“Nope, I’m determined” 

“Why? Is my Instagram not enough?” You say with a shake of your shoulder. 

“No, it’s not. Are you gonna give me another hint or what?" Sass can be heard in his tone. Instead of having the poor boy go on for ages figuring out your number you give him the first six digits. “Fine, I’m starting to feel bad for you now. I’ll give more than one number” At this his eyes light up like the galaxy. Excitement growing in his chest and a smile that brings out his dimples appear on his face. 

Laughing at his excitement you write down on a piece of napkin you pull from the box next to you. ‘823257’ written in bold ink. You fold it up and slide it over to Jungkook’s side of the table. “There now you need to find the last four” Now feeling a bit more relieved he stuffs the napkin deep into the pockets of his sweats. The food is brought out and the same waiter places it on the table in front of you. 

“Thank you,” you tell him with that same smile you gave him earlier. Blush begins to grow on his pale cheeks and he bows, walking away to serve other tables. Scoffing Jungkook looks away from the boy and takes the scissors from the tray, cutting up the meat. “What was that look for?” you say to him picking up a pair of utensils. “Nothing” you laugh lightly at his pouty lips. 

The sizzling of the meat on the grill resounds and smoke lifts into the air from the hot pan. “Do you think it’s cheating if another man helps separate your perilla leaf for you with chopsticks if you’re already with someone?” The ridiculous question gets you to chuckle. “I don’t think so, why does it matter if you're just going to end up eating it anyway?” you say, taking a piece of meat he grilled and placed on your plate for you into your mouth. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he chews on the pork belly and his legs jump a little under the table. “It does matter! I feel like it's cheating plain and simple. If I were dating someone it should only be me helping you. Not some other guy that you happen to be friends with” 

“Whatever you wanna believe, Jeon. But personally, I really don’t care. As long as I have food in my mouth then I’m happy” you say as you stuff your mouth with rice. 

The check comes around when you finish eating. You go to grab the piece of paper but, once again, Jungkook beats you to it. “Yah, I’m the one who brought you out to eat. I should be the one paying for it” he held the paper away from you. Slumping in your seat you cross your arms across your chest. “But it’s expensive, let me help pay half” With a proud smile Jungkook signs off on it and gives it to your waiter. “Too late, already paid for” he sends you a sly grin and you let out a puff of air.

The beeping sound of the door resounds in the quiet apartment. Jungkook walks to his shoe rack next to the front door and pulls off his big black shoes. Walking over to the couch he settles down on the couch and turns on the TV. Before he could pull his jacket off he remembers the small napkin you gave to him at the restaurant. Digging through his pocket he feels the soft paper and unravels it, revealing the numbers you had written down. 

The front door beeps once again, the slightly shorter man walks through the door and places his bag on the dining table. “Hey,” Jimin says. “What do you wanna do tonight? We don’t have a schedule for tomorrow and we don’t need to be up early” he says, digging through the fridge for something to eat. Jungook’s focus is still analyzing the piece of paper. “Uh, do you think you could help me with something?” he turned his attention to the blonde standing behind the counter, a drink propped in his hand. 

“Yeah, what is it?” taking a sip from his bottle. Jungkook stands to walk over to Jimin and places the napkin in front of him. He looks down at it and lifts his head back up to look at his friend. “A napkin with a bunch of numbers on it? Is it like a code or something?” he says with confusion laced in his voice. Jungkook shakes his head and he pulls up your Instagram account. “Do you remember her?” Jimin brings the phone closer to his face to properly see what he has displayed on his phone. It takes him a little while to remember your face. Then his face brows straighten out as he recalls that day he saw you. “Ah, the cafe worker” Jungkook shakes his head, “Yes, her” 

“What about her?” Confusion written on his face again. “Well, I’ve been hanging out with her for a while now-” before he can continue his sentence Jimin cuts him off, “And you didn’t mind telling me this until now because?” 

“I don’t know, I’ve just been so caught up with her and I didn’t even think about mentioning her. But now I’m in a situation” he starts off by telling him the day he walked into the cafe and waited for you to finish up so he could talk to you. And the rest of the story after that. “Why is she playing hard to get? It’s just a couple of numbers” Jimin says. Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, turning around back to the couch. 

“She said it’s a personal thing, which is so stupid. We’ve been texting back n’ forth on Instagram. I was out with her today and she gave me those numbers” he sighs out of frustration. Jimin flows behind him and sits on the sofa next to him. He places the drink down and pats Jungkook on the shoulder. “You’re in luck, I have my mom to thank for this.” he pulls out a thick book filled with thousands of phone numbers from under the coffee table. Jungkook’s eyes widen in shock as the book slams on the table in front of them. 

“When did she give this to you?” he asks in shock. “She gave it to me before I left Busan, I forgot I had it with me. I never had a use for it so it was stored away in the closet at our old dorm” He opens the book and flips through the thin pages. He stops on a page and glides his finger down looking for those six numbers. “Here!” He looks back to the napkin next to the book and reads off the numbers. Jungkook watches in awe as he watches his friend work his ‘magic’. “Now all we need to do is look through,” he pauses for a second “one hundred seventeen phone numbers” A loud “What!” comes from the man beside him. “Looks like we have a long night ahead of us Jungkookie” 

The first number they dialed was an old lady. She was sweet about them calling the wrong number and they moved on to the next. The fifth number they dial was a fried chicken place, not being able to contain themselves they placed an order for delivery. The two of them spend the next hour and a half trying to search for your number. Jungkook is close to losing hope. He ended up stepping out to their balcony and took a cigar out from the box laying on top of the table next to the couch. 

Inhaling a puff into the night’s air, he begins to feel a bit more relaxed. Jimin walks in behind him, standing next to him as they look out into the city. Lights, once again brightening up the city. The sounds of cars driving by and flocks of birds flying in the sky. Jimin takes in the fresh air, his arms leaning against the railing. “What if she gave you a fake number?” he says. Jungkook only sighs and takes another drag from his cigarette. 

“I mean we’ve been at this for hours and all we’ve found is nothing” But Jungkook being the stubborn man he is he says “We have twenty more numbers to call. And if none of them is hers, then” he pauses. He looks up at the stars twinkling in the black sky. He closes his eyes and thinks. “Then I’ll just give up,” Jimin nods his head at his friend's decision, his head hanging low as he pats the taller one’s shoulder walking back into the room. 

Jungkook places the end of the stick in a bowl lying on the edge of the thick railing and trails behind the elder. Plopping himself back down on the couch, he begins to prepare himself for maybe one of the longest hours of his life. He picks his phone up again and dials one of the remaining numbers. But to no avail, it’s not your voice he hears on the other end of the phone. Crossing it off in the book he dials the next one, and then the next, and then he’s on the sixth number.

The phone rings for a while, but on the fourth ring, someone picks up. “Hello?” you say. Jungkook is silent. Shocked that it’s actually you, he’s finally talking to. “Hello,” he says back. You bring your phone away from your ear and look at the number. “Jungkook? How did you manage to find the rest of my number so quickly?” He laughs at that. ‘Quickly’ is quite the opposite of tonight.

“Thank fucking God it’s you,” he says. Jimin perks up, turning around to face Jungkook.

Autumn

The sun rose over the horizon and spilt into the room, the blinds kept slightly ajar covering bits of the messy room, the light laying over his sleeping body. His eyes slow open as the sun peeks through them. He twists and turns in the comfort of his bed until he becomes restless, pulling the comforter away from his body. “Jungkook” a girl hovering over his tired body. She lays her own over his, cuddling into his neck as she wraps her arms around his neck, he buries himself in her scent dragging his hands to wrap around her waist. 

The girl plants soft kisses along his soft skin whispering little nothings into his ear. Before he could pull away to find her beautiful face, his eyes opened.

“Get up!” Jimin tugs on his arm harder. Jungkook jerks up from his bed, wiping his eyes from sleep. “What time is it?” his deep voice still laced with his deep slumber, Jimin looks at the clock on the wall by his mirror and back at the sleepy boy.

"It’s ten thirty, we were supposed to meet Namjoon ten minutes ago” he yells. Jungkook groans standing up from the bed, without watching out for where he was going he stubs his toe on the corner of the bed, “Shit” he falls onto his bed again holding his foot. His phone buzzes with a notification. The name read ‘___ 🌺’, and a smile formed on his face as he read your name. 

y/n🌺: Hey sleepy. I’ve been trying to reach you for like an hour but it seems like you’re too busy for me now 😞. I wanted to see if you wanted to hang out today? [10:35 am] 

His smile grows even wider. He thought he’d never see the day that you would reach out and ask if he wanted to hang out. Unfortunately, he has plans out today. It’s been a long while since he and all of his friends planned to hang out together. With everyone being busy with school and work, they never found the time to plan a get together. 

Me: Hey, sorry I didn’t get back. I woke up late. [10:37 am]

Me: Someone missing me already? 🫤 [10:37 am] 

He stands up from his bed and walks through the bedroom door. Jimin walks past him, already dressed and ready for the day, “You’re not ready yet, we’re going to leave in like five minutes” he says. “Alright! I won’t take that long, relax” He walks into the bathroom and prepares himself for the day ahead of him. The sink buzzes from his phone. The screen lights up with another notification. 

y/n 🌺: Calm down pretty boy, I was just asking because I’m off today and I don’t have any plans [10:45 am]

Me: So you think I’m pretty? lol, sorry angel i can’t today, what about tomorrow? [10:47 am]

While he waits for a response he walks out of the bathroom and walks over to his closet, looking through the many clothes he has. Finally, picking out something to wear he walks out to the living space where Jimin is sitting on the couch, looking at his phone waiting for him to finish. “Finally,” he breathes out in relief. “If only you set a damn alarm we wouldn’t be so late, Tae keeps texting me if we were there yet and yet we’re still standing here” he shakes his head. 

“Can you calm down, I’m ready. Let’s go” Jungkook walks forward to the front door and his keys in his hand. He waits for Jimin to walk out before he locks the door. As they are walking down the hall to the parking garage, Jungkook checks his phone again to find your message. 

y/n 🌺: Don’t get so cocky now Jeon. Yeah, that’s fine. I guess I’ll just spend my time alone today 😞 [10:48 am] 

Me: Cheer up at least you get to spend the whole day with me tomorrow! 😊 [10:59 am]

y/n 🌺: Yeah yeah. Have fun with your boyfriends [11:00 am] 

Cheesing at his phone he sends you a thumbs up and puts his phone away and takes his car keys out. “What are you smiling about?” Jimin looks over to his friend in the driver's seat. “Is it ___?” he guesses. Jungkook shrugs his shoulders as he places the key into the ignition.

As Jungkook pulls out of the parking garage, Jimin takes the aux cord and plugs it into his phone, ‘3:00 AM’ by Finding Hope plays softly in the background of the car. “So, what’s the deal with you and her?” He starts the conversation first. “What do you mean? We’re just friends,” Jimin looks at him with a look of suspicion written on his face. “Hmm, you’ve been spending almost all of your time with her, and I always catch you geeking whenever you’re texting her, doesn’t seem like ‘just friends’ to me” he lifts two fingers up in the air as quotations. 

“You are so deluded. I can’t have girls that are friends anymore?” 

“You’ve never had a girl-friend before. It’s either you sleep with them or you sleep with them. I have never seen you spend this much time with someone let alone a girl. Let’s be real now,” This leaves Jungkook silent. He is right, though. He just won’t admit that he is. “Whatever, man” The car ride is spent in silence for the rest of the time being. 

It’s not until Jimin gets an incoming call from Taehyung. The phone is still connected to the car, his deep voice is loud throughout the vehicle. “Hello?” Jimin says, “Where are you guys?” 

“We’re almost there, why?” Jungkook says. “Just asking, cus Namjoon-hyung is getting antsy, he just wants to make sure you guys are coming, it has been a while since we’ve all been together” 

“Okay were pulling up in the parking lot now, see you soon” 

“See you in a bit” the calls end and the music starts to play again. The car comes to a stop, and the two close the door shut. This place is different to the one he took you out to that night all those days ago. This one is more secluded, not many people know about, considering it’s Namjoon’s father’s place. The small building is next to a lake, only a few others in sight down the road. the quiet sounds of the water rippling in the air, and the leaves turning into red, orange, and brown colors with the changing season. 

Leaves crunch under their feet as they walk up to the door, knocking to be let in. The eldest one in the group answers the door. “Yah, what took you guys so long.” Jin says, pushing their hands slightly in a playful manner. “This one woke up late” he points to Jungkook. He raises his hands up and apologizes, “Sorry, I forgot to set an alarm, but to be fair I went to sleep late last night working on a project” 

“At least you're here” Jin throws his arm over his youngest’s shoulder. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages,” 

“Yeah, me too” Yoongi, another one of their friends, comes from the bathroom. Jungkook throws him a smile and pulls him into a hug. “It’s nice to see you guys again” Namjoon comes from what seemed like a gaming room “Look at us, one whole again” he opens his arms and brings Jungkook into a hug as well. Jimin and Taehyung are sitting at one of the couches catching up on what they’ve been doing since they last saw each other. 

They all gather around and begin chit chatting. “So, Jungkookie, Jimin here tells us you’re seeing someone” Jin raises his eyebrows, curious about his friend's love life. Jungkook shakes his head as he takes a sip of whiskey. “I’m not seeing anyone, she’s just a friend” at this Namjoon perks up and joins in on the conversation. “Oh is it __? I thought you guys were together, I mean you guys should’ve been there. They he looked at her was so sweet” 

“I did not look at her in any way” he objects. 

“Wait, you've met her already?!” Jin says with a look of hurt on his face. “That’s not fair! I basically raised you and this is how you repay me!” he yells.

“Can we please calm down, she’s nothing but a friend to me, why is that so hard to believe” They all become silent now. Giving each other knowing looks, he lets out a sigh and pulls a cigar out from his pocket. Taking a lighter that was lying on the table in front of him he lights it up, taking a drag.

“Oh c’mon, when will you introduce us? It’d be good to see a new face around here” Jungkook looks up at Yoongi and back down to his cigar. “I don’t know, it’ll happen when it happens” It is silent for a minute before Jungkook changes the subject. “How’s Aria and the baby? I miss that little dumpling” Jin’s baby, Minchae, is 

Jungkook's goddaughter, it’s been a long time since he’s seen her. Jin and his wife, Aria, are high school sweethearts, she’s seen him through his growth spurt, he hasn’t spent a day looking bad. He doesn’t blame her for staying with him for all these years. 

“They’re doing good, we wanted to host a barbeque sometime in two weeks, I forgot to bring this up the last time we were together” 

Everyone perks up at the mention of food, all agreeing, they begin to talk about life, what they’ve all been caught up doing since their last get together.

“Are you guys dating?” Your best friend asks over the phone. After Jungkook told you he was busy, you brought yourself out of your tiny apartment and did a little bit of exploring yourself.

“No, we’re not. We are just friends” you deny your relationship with Jungkook. He is one of the first friends (?) that you have made so far since you moved here. Yes, his personality is a bit condescending but you still manage to find a way to tolerate it. 

“Well, from the way you described him, it sounds like more than friends to me” You shake your head as if he could see you. “Fine believe what you wanna believe, but I assure you we are just friends-” Mid sentence you don’t pay attention to where your feet are leading you. You bump into a tall figure, when you turn around to apologize, you get a closer glimpse of the man. “Hey, you were our waiter the other day at that restaurant near the campus” you say pointing at him. He smiles and gives you a nod of his head. 

“Yeah, that was me” An awkward silence fills between you two until you speak again. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” he lifts his hands in the air in a forgiving manner.

“No, no it’s okay” smiling again at him you slowly begin to turn around to go on your way. Not until he stops you in your tracks, “Wait! Uhm” You turn your head back around to face him and raise your eyebrows. “Yes?” 

“I was too scared to ask you this back at the restaurant, but can I have your number?” How cute, you think. A smile breaks out on your lips and you walk closer to him. “I don’t even know your name,” you say to him. Immediately he says “It’s Jiung”. You pause for a minute looking up at the sky as if you were thinking. “Okay, Jiung. Give me your phone” That same sweet smile you gave to him gets him to blush. He pulls his phone out from his jacket pocket and places it in my hand. 

You put in your number and hand it back to him, you turn away but not before you say “Have a good day” in a sweet voice. His heart starts to race as you turn your back to him and continue your adventure. “What was that?” Hoseok says through the phone. “This guy that I saw at this restaurant Jungkook took me to. He asked for my number. 

“Wow, you are a guy magnet over there, what happened here?” he says teasingly 

“Shut up” 

Loud knocks are heard from your front door as you get ready in your room. Your hair is still up in curlers, your baggy t-shirt is on, and your biker shorts are still on, you walk over to the door and look through the peephole. The beeping of the door is heard next to you and Jungkook steps into the room. “Look at you in your pajamas. Didn’t I say I was gonna be here at one?”

he says in a teasing manner behind you. Walking back to your room you hear his heavy steps follow behind you. “Uh, I don’t remember letting you into my room” You turn to face him. “And I don’t remember caring enough to ask,” The beefy man says plopping down on your bed. Rolling your eyes you walk back to your bathroom, his hands lay behind his head as he relaxes into your bed. You walk out with a robe on now, and Jungkook eyes you up and down. 

“Do you mind?” you say looking back at him. 

“I won’t look I swear” You give him a look that says ‘I don’t trust you’. Turning around you go through your closet, pick a casual outfit, and bring it back to the bathroom.

Jungkook rolls his eyes as you walk away. Your bathroom and bedroom connect, and the big mirror above your sink shows almost everything in it. His eyes wander around your room, thinking about it now he’s never stepped foot in your apartment before, and his gaze stops at the mirror in the bathroom. You have taken your robe off and your bare back is on display. 

He holds his breath as he takes in your figure, You grab the clip that was holding your hair and he watches as your hair cascades down your shoulder. Your head turns to look at how your hair had turned out from the rollers, but instead, you're met with Jungkook’s gaze. He’s sat up in your bed now, lips parted slightly. You hold his stare before looking away and bending down to grab your clothes. 

Snapping out of his trance, you can hear shuffling coming from your room. You look back to your bed and find it empty, Jungkook is in the other room, trying to steady his breath. A few minutes later you walk out of your room, a big sweater covering your body and a small skirt adoring part of your legs.

“Are you ready?” You say tilting your head up to look at him.

He only nods his head in response and waits for you to collect your things. He stands by the door, watching you put your sneakers on. A small white bag is thrown over your shoulder.

When you are finally done you walk out the door and he closes it behind you. The walk to the parking garage was quiet for some odd reason. When you both get into his car you destroy the silence between you two. “How come you aren’t being annoying today? Usually, you’re talking my head off or asking me dumb questions” His mind is still stuck on what he saw back at your apartment. 

Low music plays softly in his car as he responds, “It’s nothing, I’m just tired from yesterday.” Softly nodding your head away from him you look out the window and wait until you arrive at his place. It’s silent again for only a few minutes when you decide to speak up again, “You’re such a liar” he turns his gaze away from the road for a second to look at you. “What did I lie about?” 

“You said that your place is just a walk away from mine” he chuckles at your complaining. Secretly you had hoped that you would walk with him to his complex, your neighbors usually take their dog out for a walk at this time and you’d always play with her. “Sorry you should’ve moved closer to me then” he says it as if you had any control over it. You roll your eyes and begin to sink into the comfortable silence. 

He parks the car on the side of the road near his apartment and you both step out of the car. It’s slightly bigger than where you're living and it’s much louder in this part of town.

He takes the lead and walks in front of you to the front of the building. The layout is much different than what you’re used to. Instead of an elevator, everyone has to climb up a set of stairs, thankfully for you, he lives on one of the lower levels. When you reach his home he punches in the numbers into the pad of his door lock. 

Just like yours, beeping comes from inside of his house. To your surprise the place is neat and clean, a few pieces of trash here and there but surprisingly tidy for an apartment with two grown men living in it. “How do you like it?” He asks, throwing his keys into the bowl on the table next to the door. “It’s nice, it’s cleaner than I thought it would be” your eyes glide around the room. He scoffs and says “What? Just because we’re a couple of guys means we can’t be clean?” 

“Uhm yes, actually I do think that” 

“Well, then change your mindset” he says walking over to his sofa. “What do you wanna do? I don’t have much here but you decided you wanted to hangout here so…” you walk over to his kitchen and look through his fridge. “Let’s cook something,” Digging through the drawers, you try to find something you think you’d both like to eat. 

After searching for a few minutes you end up with pork belly, kimchi, and instant noodles you found in the cabinet. You call him over and he groans as he stands from the comfort of his sofa. He finds a spot next to you and looks at the items you have displayed on the counter. “We’re cooking tonight?” You look up at him with a bright smile “Mmmhm!” He laughs at your response. He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, tattoos out on display and rubs his hands together. 

“Let’s get started, then shall we?” Of course, he grabs the package of pork and cuts the plastic open with a knife while you look for a pot to cook the ramen in. You bring it to the sink and fill it half way to boil the noodles. It makes a small ‘clink’ sound when it hits the metal of the stove. Jungkook walks over next to you while you sit watching at the pot, waiting for the water to boil. He pulls a pan out from the same cabinet you got the pot from and places it next to you on the stove. 

Once the pan is hot enough he scrapes the cut-up meat into the pan, sizzling as it touches the heat. Smoke fills the air and the apartment starts to smell like pork.

The water starts to boil and you open the package and dump what’s in it into the water. Jungkok grabs a pair of chopsticks from a drawer and picks a piece of cooked meat from the pan. He blows on it and touches it to his lips making sure it’s not too hot to eat. “Here, try it” You open your mouth and taste the flavorful meat. Your eyes close as you satisfy your tastebuds with the cooking.

“Is it good?” Telling by your expression he doesn’t need a verbal answer from you. 

Once everything is cooked you plate it and serve it on the island in the kitchen. You sit on one of the stools and Jungkook stands on the other side of you. “I didn’t know you could cook like this, it’s so good” Slurping sounds reverberate from his bowl as he brings it closer to his mouth. “Who’s feeding my ego now?” he says with a cocky tone. 

“Can you ever go a day without being annoying” 

“Not when it comes to you” 

After you both finish up eating you make your way over to the living room and make yourselves comfortable on the sofa. The TV played whatever they showed during this hour.

Suddenly you start to speak. “You know what happened yesterday?” he hums in response, too immersed in what was playing on the big screen. “Do you remember our waiter from a few days ago?” At the mention of him, he sits up and looks at you. “Yeah, what about him” 

“After you blew me off-” 

“I did not blow you off, I was just busy with my friends” 

“Anyways,” you roll your eyes at his interruption

“I went into the city and ran some errands. But when I was on the phone with my friend I happened to bump into him” he listens to your story intently, not wanting to miss a detail. “I apologized but before I could leave he asked me for my number” 

“And did you give it to him?” he asks curiously. 

“Yeah, I did” he scoffs at your response, a little bit of anger beginning to build up. “Are you serious? Why did he get your number so easily but I had to work my ass off to get it” You can read the anger on his face. You begin to laugh, you laugh so hard that you're clutching your stomach. “Yah! What’s so funny! I didn’t even say anything for you to laugh” This only gets you to laugh even more. 

Not taking any more of this his fingers find your waist, and he tickles you. “Jungkook!” you yell at him. He pushes you onto your back and attacks you. Your legs between his and your arms trying to shove his shoulders away. The biggest smile forms on his lips as he watches your face turn red from how hard you're laughing. “Jungkook, stop!” you say in between laughs. 

He takes hold of your wrist and pins it above your head. Your laughter dies down, and the room becomes silent. His face hovering over yours, your faces inches apart. He doesn’t realize he’s leaning down, lips close to touching. The beeping of the door is heard near the door and Jimin walks through. You both quickly pull away from each other and straighten out your clothes. 

“Jimin!” Jungkook says standing to greet his friend. “This is ___” Jimin walks over to you and stretches his hand out for you to shake. “Ah, the one and only. It’s nice to finally meet you” he says slightly bowing out of courtesy. “It’s nice to meet you too, Jimin” you give one of your sweet smiles. Jungkook looks down at his watch and walks up between you two.

“It’s getting late, I’ll take you home __” you nod your head and give Jimin one last smile. “But we just met, let me get to know her,” Jimin complains. “You’ll get to know her another time, we have classes tomorrow and she has work” 

“It was nice to meet you, Jimin. I hope we get to talk to each other properly in the future” you tell him. He smiles at you and lets you go. 

~ The car ride to your home was filled with comfortable silence and the radio playing lowly. You are stopped at a red light and you look out the window. A dog sticking its head out the window gets a small smile to grow on your lips. “I had a great time tonight” you turn your attention back to Jungkook. His face was illuminated with red from the traffic light. You take in his strong features. His sharp jawline and round nose, a faint scar is indented on his cheek, and his lip piercing shining in the light. 

“I had a great time too” He looks over at you and sees you already looking at him. “Sucks I didn’t get to talk to your friend though. He seems like a nice person.” 

“Yeah he is, I’ve known him since I was in middle school. We went to highschool together and now we're sharing rent with each other. Sometimes it amazes me how fast times fly” he says. 

Small talk is exchanged until you reach your apartment. This time you and Jungkook stay in the car for a bit longer. “Thank you, for today. I had a lot of fun” 

“So did I,” he says. It’s not long before he says something else. “My friends are holding a barbeque at their place in a few days. Do you want to come with me?” This was out of nowhere. You debate whether you should go, you don’t even know them besides Jungkook and Jimin, now. 

“C’mon, you always talk about how you don’t have any friends here. I’m giving you the opportunity to make some.” After this you finally oblige. 

“Okay, okay I’ll go. But only if you make me some more pork belly” he smiles and shakes your head. 

“Deal” he pulls his hand out to seal the deal. You give it a small squeeze and shake your hands. As you look at him you hold onto your hand for more than he should be. Shying away, you let go of his hand and begin to pick up your stuff. “Goodnight, Jungkook,” you say leaning in to plant a small kiss on his cheek. You pull away but your faces stay close together. He looks down at your lips, and he slowly brings his hand to your cheek. 

He’s having an internal battle, thinking if kissing you is a good idea. Fuck it, he pulls you in and your lips mold with his. The cold of his piercing against your lips makes a shiver go up your spine. A small smack of your lips resounds as you pull away slowly, “Goodnight, angel”

The crisp air of the late afternoon hits you, you are standing outside waiting for Jungkook to come pick you up for today’s events. The thoughts of meeting his friends made you nervous for some reason you can’t pinpoint. Maybe you are just scared of what they might think, you need to show off a good impression. His black Mercedes rolls in around the corner and stops in front of you. 

Pulling the handle to the passenger’s side you reveal Jungkook, leaning against the armrest waiting for you to hop in. “Don’t you look cute today,” he says, watching you buckle your seat belt. “Thank you,” you say in a small voice. “You’re so nervous around me all of a sudden,” he says leaning in to look at your face. You look at his eyes, then down to his lips. “I’m not nervous,” you say with confidence in your voice.

“Mmm, then why are you so quiet? I’m used to hearing your loud and obnoxious voice” he teases. A smile creeps onto your lips and you turn away from to face forward. “Just drive, Jeon.” Chuckling, you step on the gas pedal and start to drive away from your complex. “What are your friends like?” you ask. You watch as Jungkook leans his elbow against the door and places his hand under his chin. “Hmm, they are very loud” a small laugh comes from your mouth. “They’re also very warm, I’ve known most of them for a big majority of my life now” 

You admire the way he talks about them as if they were family to him. The bond he describes he has with them seems unbreakable and full of love, you feel warmth spread across your chest at the thought of his friendship with all of them. You begin to realize that you don’t live far from them, only about a thirty-minute drive from yours. Suddenly, those nerves you were feeling before begin to creep up on you again. He notices how silent you’ve become as you get closer to the house. 

“What’s wrong? Did you forget something?” he says, looking at you. You return his gaze and shake off your nervous feeling. “No, nothing’s wrong. I just feel a bit nervous about meeting them,” you look for the right word to say. You shouldn’t be feeling this nervous, Jungkook described them as great people. “Angel, you don’t need to be nervous. They will welcome you with open arms, trust me” The nickname always brings small butterflies soaring in your stomach, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it. 

The car pulls into the driveway you look up and gape at the size of the house. It’s not too big, but big enough to hold at least seven people. You and Jungkook both walk up to the front door, once again you feel anxious, “Relax, it’s gonna be okay” his fingers brush softly against yours, his pinky wrapping around yours. He rings the doorbell, and everyone on the other side of the door goes quiet. 

Low chattering is heard and the handle to the door twists and swings open. “JayKayy” Jin says in a brotherly tone. But Jungkook’s attention focuses on his baby niece. “Awhh Minchae, Uncle missed you '' he takes the little girl from her father's arms, squeezing her against him. Her little giggles escape as he places little kisses against her tiny puffy cheek. You watch with a fond smile on your face, how adorable. You’ve never seen this side of Jungkook before, it feels refreshing. 

You follow behind him as he enters the house. The loud chattering comes back to life when they see their youngest out of the bunch. “Hey, guys” Minchae’s arms wrapped around his neck. Standing quietly behind Jungkook’s tall frame you gently tug on his jacket and he turns around to you.

“Oh uh, guys” he places a hand on the small of your back, gesturing for you to walk forward. “This is ___” You bow your head and greet them. “Hello” comes from your mouth softly. Jin’s wife Aria stands up and places a hand over her heart. “You are so cute! It’s nice to finally meet you! Jungkook has not stopped talking about you since-” 

“Aria” Jungkook deadpans. She places a hand over her mouth to contain her laugh. “Sorry, sorry.” 

Jungkook holds a hand out gesturing to the woman next to you. “This is Aria, Jin’s wife” you smile at her and nod your head, a fond smile growing on her face. “This is Taehyung, and you know Namjoon and Jimin” You walk over to where they were sitting and hold your hand out for them to shake. “Oh yeah, we met that one time we went into the city, I remember,” you say to Namjoon. “Yes, it’s nice to see you again ___” He gives you that boyish smile you saw all those nights ago. 

“And this is Yoongi” the quiet man waves his hand in the air and a little smile forms on his lips. Jin comes out from the backyard, clad in an apron and tongs in his hands.

“Food’s ready” Everyone stands up from their seats. A table is set up outside and the big backyard is lit up with fairy lights, setting the mood for everyone. When everyone is content with their plates they all sit around the table and converse with one another. Minchae sat on Jungkook’s lap, slapping her tiny hands against the table. She hasn’t left Jungkook since you both arrived, you find it endearing, the relationship between the two. 

He has a separate plate for her feeding her small spoons at a time when she asks for it. “So, ___. When did you move to the city, is there any reason why you chose Incheon?” Jin asks. 

“Well, I moved here this past summer from Gwangjang. I was offered better things here at the college than what they had back there. It sucks though because I had to leave all my friends. But it doesn’t hurt getting a clean slate” you say. 

“That is right, but I bet you miss your friends too” You nod your head as you think about your life back in your hometown. “Yes, I do miss it over there. But I’ve been enjoying my time over here as well” you say with joy. Everyone begins to talk with you as if they’ve known you for years. It is not as bad as you thought it’d be, and you're grateful for that. 

Everyone decided to head back inside and it grew colder, everyone spread out in different places. Minchae sat on Jungkook’s lap again, playing with his big hands. Her attention falls on you though, you look down to meet her gaze and you give her a small smile. She crawls from Junkook onto your lap and she stares at you looking at your features. He watches his niece make herself comfortable on your lap and looks at her antics. Her tiny hands come up to your cheek. A bright smile forms on your lips as you watch her. 

“Hi, Minchae” softly comes from your lips. 

“Pwetty, Auntie” your heart melts at her small voice, and so does Jungkook's. He watches the interaction with a smile on his face, warmth igniting within his chest. “You’re so pretty,” you say, giving a gentle poke to her round tummy. She lets out a laugh as he wraps her hands around your finger pushing it away. Jungkook’s heart feels like it’s going to explode, watching with fond eyes as you play with his niece. You look over at him and catch him staring, his hand coming up to nudge your chin playfully. 

~

The night is coming to the end and Minchae has peacefully fallen asleep on your shoulder as you hold her back in support. Everyone has settled down, quiet music playing in the room as they all focus on their own thing. Jungkook looks down at his watch and notices how late it has gotten. “I think we should start heading out,” he whispers into your ear. You nod your head and begin to slowly get up, careful not to wake the little one in your arms. 

“Here I’ll take her” Jungkook brings his hand under her arms to pick her up. She moves a bit but falls back to sleep in the man’s arms. “Are you guys heading out already?” Jin says from the couch. 

“Yeah, is it alright if I put her to bed?” Jin nods his head and Jungkook separates from you for the first time tonight and walks up the stairs. 

“Where have you been all his life?” Jin says out of the blue. You turn around to face him and give him a look of confusion. “What?” a small chuckle escapes your mouth. “I have not seen him act the way he does since you’ve met him” A smile appears on your lips and before you can respond Jungkook comes back into the room. “You ready?” he says quietly from behind you, a hand resting on your waist. You look up at him and nod your head, you bend to grab your purse from the couch. 

“I’ll see you guys later,” he says with a wave of his hand. They all say their goodbyes and then, you are both heading back to the car.

You walk up to your door and unlock it, Jungkook stands behind you and waits for you to get in. He expected you to wave him goodnight and disappear behind your door, leaving him to walk into the night. But instead, you turn around and say “You wanna come in?” Shocked, Jungkook freezes in his spot, caught by surprise. He nods his head and walks in behind you. You place your bag down on the small table and plop down on your sofa, Jungkook following, he sits down next to you. 

“Tonight was fun, I didn’t expect us to get along so well. It felt like I’ve known them for years,” you say facing him. Your arms are in your lap, your fingers playing with your ring. “Yeah, that’s what they do to you” he chuckles. “They are all too kind for their own good, that’s what I love about them” 

“I can see why you talked so fondly about them, thinking about the bond you share with them makes me miss my friends back home. We’d hang out almost every night and stay out late going to parties” You reminisce on the old times you and your friends’ wild nights. 

“You have me now, and everyone else,” he says in a low tone. You look up from your lap and smile at him. It is silent between you now, Jungkook can’t help but stare at you in the low light, how beautiful you look. Slowly his hand comes up to the side of your neck, just below your ear. You lean into his touch and your lips part slightly, your gaze falling to his lips and so does his. Lips colliding, your hands find his wrist holding on tightly. 

Your body moves forward, straddling his lap, and his tongue glides over your pillowy lips, seeking entrance. Your lips part allows him access and his hands find your waist, squeezing gently. A small whimper escapes your mouth at the touch; the room filled with the sound of lips smacking. His hands begin to dip lower, till they are right above your ass. Your arms wrap around his neck softly and the kiss gets heated and needy. Teeth clashing against each other and small noises come from your lips.

With his hands under your ass, he stands up and lifts you up with him. Legs wrapping around his middle, without breaking the kiss Jungkook finds his way to your bedroom. He throws you onto the bed as if you were a ragdoll, hands finding the hem of his shirt he pulls it over his head, abs out on display; you can feel yourself become wetter. 

Your hands glide up his stomach, muscles rubbing against your fingers. Jungkook holds onto your hands and brings them up to his neck as you’re kneeling on the edge of your bed. His lips connected with yours once again, but much harsher. His tongue playing with yours, the sloppy sounds of your lips are the only thing heard in the room. Jungkook’s rough hands pull your thin tank top over your head, revealing your perked nipples. You gasp as your body is hit with the cold air in the room. 

Placing wet kisses down your neck, his lips find your chest. He breathes over your nipple and you whimper at the warmth it brings. His lips wrapped around your erect nipple, and you threw your head back in pleasure, hands wrapping around the short hair on the back of his head. “Jungkook” you whimper. His hands wrap around your back bringing it closer to him. He moves on to the other one, giving it the same treatment. Suddenly, he throws you back down on the soft mattress. 

Watching how your tits move with the impact. He hovers over you kissing you with need. Jungkook’s hands find the waistband of your skirt, pulling it down and throwing it onto the floor behind him. Now you’re only left in your panties, barely covering your pussy. He can feel himself grow harder in his underwear, looking down at the goddess that you are. Pushing you up so you’re fully on the bed now he dips down and places soft kisses on your inner thigh. You shiver at the touch and whine his name out again. “Jungkook” 

“What, baby? Use your words” 

“I need you” you moan, your eyes fall to look at him. But they’ve already fallen on you, giving you a sultry look. 

“You’re already so soaked for me,” he says, hooking his fingers on your panties. It’s barely doing its job anyway, he yanks them from your body. Your cunt out, ready for him to devour. “You gonna be a good girl for me?” you nod your head. 

“Uh uh, what did I say baby?” 

“Ugh, yes” you say in a needy tone. “I need to feel you Jungkook, please” Finally getting what he wanted he obliges to your request. 

“Just because you said so kindly” his head dips down, placing kitten licks along your clit, you let out a breathy moan at the first contact of his tongue. Then, he’s diving in. Wrapping his arms around your legs pulling himself deeper into your sopping pussy. You try to move around but Jungkook isn’t having it, his grip on you tightens and his pace picks up. Two fingers find your entrance, pushing in slowly. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his thick fingers push up into you. 

“Fuck, Jungkook” You bring your hands to prop yourself up, and you watch as Jungkook flicks his tongue up and down between your folds. His fingers start to pick up in pace, and he can feel you squeeze him, he knows you’re close to an orgasm. The burn in your lower stomach begins to build. Moaning, loudly you reach your climax, a hand finding his hair, you tug slightly to get him off of you. Your thighs begin to shake beside you he finally pulls away and brings himself back up to you. You stare into his eyes, big black boba eyes staring back at you. 

You can’t believe that’s the man that brought you to your orgasm. His head dips down to connect your lips once again, you can taste yourself on his lips and you moan into his mouth. “Good job, baby,” he says lowly. Your hand slowly reaches down to his aching cock, and you reach into his pants. The contact you make with his cock gets him to moan into your hair. He stands to remove the fabric from his waist. His hard dick comes face to face with you and you can feel yourself start to drool. 

You bring your hand to wrap around it, giving it a few strokes. His head tilts back in pleasure this time, “Ah fuck yeah, baby” Your thumb rubs over the red tip, and then you bring your lips to plant soft kisses over it. “Don’t fucking tease me” his hand brushes through your soft hair. “C’mon don’t be such a pussy, let me have my fun,” you say. 

“I just ate the fuck outta yours, I really fucking need you” he whines. 

You laugh at his whiny state “Who’s the needy one now?” Finally, your lips around his thick cock, the veins feel up against your mouth. You take him in slowly and his hand guides you as you only take half of it. “C’mon baby, I know you can do better than that” You pull back and take him in a deeper, until the tip hits the back of your throat. You gag slightly but take deep breaths in to calm yourself. “There you go” he praises. Your speed picks up as he pushes you on his cock. Your small hand finds the bottom of his cock where his balls lay. Squeezing them in the palm of your hand he doubles over at the extra pleasure. “Fuck, you’re such a cockslut for me, huh? God,” he says pulling you off of him. 

“Turn around, ass up face down” he demands. You turn around and do what he asks. Your face buries into your pull and you get slightly pushed up as he grabs your ass cheeks. “You’re so fucking beautiful” A smack resounds in the room and you let out a gasp. He rubs over the red mark and plants a kiss over it. He moves his hands down to the dip of your waist and holds you down. 

Giving his cocks a few strokes, he teases it up and down your slit. “Look at you, all dripping n’ shit” you moan at his tone. He pushes in slowly, feeling his veins around your walls. The stretch gives you the most pleasure you’ve felt in a long time; he stays there for a little to let you get used to his size. He pulls back until just the tip, and then he pushes in all the way, bottoming out. He moves your hair to the side to watch your ass bounce on him. His pace is quick, and his hands find the front of your chest squeezing your soft tits in his hand. 

“Fuck, harder” you moan.

Your head is lying on the side of your pillow, gripping the soft material from the pleasure. His animalistic speed gets you to moan even louder. The sound of his hips hitting against your ass and the flapping sounds are loud in the quiet room. He looks down to where you connect and watches the ring of your cream disappear inside you. 

“Can I record you baby?”

Too lost in pleasure you push yourself up and grab his phone from the side of you after it fell from his pocket earlier. The flash of the camera lights up the room and he watches himself disappear inside you. “Yeah, you like that baby?” 

Pornographic moans escape your lips as you relish the pleasure. “Yes, yes, yes!” you repeat over and over again.

His tattooed hand comes into the frame and rubs over your ass. Your cheeks have become red because of how hard he’s pounding into you. The flash turns off and he throws his phone to the side, his hand cups your pussy, rubbing against your clit. “Cum with me, angel” 

This tips you over, spurts of come covering both your and his legs, dripping onto the mattress. Ropes of white cover your walls as he comes inside of you. You stay like that for a while, not ready for his cock to leave you. When he pulls away, the loss of being filled makes you whine. He walks away from the bed and disappears into the bathroom. You turn over to lay on your back and your arm comes up to cover your eyes, you don’t hear Jungkook come back from the bathroom and you feel the bed deep. 

“Open your legs, baby, I need to clean you” slowly spreading your legs the cool rag drags through your swollen folds. He throws the small towel into a basket in your room and plops himself on top of you. “I gotta pee, move” you slightly shove his shoulder. “Hold on, let’s just stay here for a little bit I’m tired” His hands wrap around your waist and he lays on your chest like it’s a pillow. You both end up falling asleep in each other’s arms.

The light shining through your blinds suddenly awakens you from your sleep. You look next to you and you admire the way Jungkook looks in the morning. Soft snores came from his pink lips, peacefully snoozing away. Slowly his eyes begin to open, and a small smile begins to form on his lips as he takes in your beauty. “Good morning,” he says as he stretches his limbs. Tattoos out on display as he stretches his arms out in relief. He plops them over your slightly covered body and pulls you closer to him. “Morning,” you say softly to him. His doll-like eyes stare into yours then down to your lips. Moving closer, your eyes shut softly as you can feel his soft lips glide against yours. There’s a spark between you. Like fireworks exploding around you and butterflies erupting in your stomach. Something you’ve never felt before. Loud knocking is heard from your door, causing you both to pull away. 

“Give me a second,” you say under your breath. Nodding his head, he lets you go from his soft grip and watches as you pull a robe over your shoulders, tying it at your waist. When you pull the handle to your front door you don’t expect your mother and your best friend on the other side. 

“Hi sweetie!” your mom pulls in for a tight hug, Hoseok next. 

“Hi, guys, what are you doing here?” you say with a look of confusion on your face. “Sorry, we didn’t call. We just wanted to surprise you!” Hoseok says with a beaming smile on his face. “We missed you and wanted to see you. I hope this isn’t a bad time” he continues. 

You look back to your bedroom door as they set their stuff down in the small living room. “Actually-” before you can continue, Jungkook emerges from your room dressed in the clothes from the night before. Both your mother and Hoseok pause. They look at you, then to Jungkook, and then back to you. “Maybe it is a bad time. You know, mom” Hoseok looks at your mother. You two were so close you were practically family. “I saw this cute little cafe down the street, why don’t we go get some breakfast?” he looks back at you and sends you a little wink. 

“Actually I should start heading out, I need to catch up on some of my school work” Jungkook interrupts. 

“It was nice to meet you guys” he bows politely. He walks over to the door with you following behind him. Once you're at the door he turns around to face you. “I’ll see you later?” he says closely. You nod your head and he leans in to place a small peck against your lips. 

Closing the door behind you Hoseok and your mother are left shocked. “You better start explaining yourself young lady” he points a stern finger at you as if you were in trouble. “Yeah, honey. I didn’t know you were seeing someone. Otherwise, we would’ve come over at another time” your mom says to you sweetly 

“No, ma it’s okay,” you say, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “He’s no one really, he’s just a friend” This gets you thinking. What are you and Jungkook? You have so many unanswered questions that you want to ask. But these are the least of your worries. “So, how long are you guys gonna be in town for?” quickly changing the subject. “A few days. School starts again soon and I wanted to see you before I went back” Hobi says, bringing you into a hug. “Plus we haven’t seen or heard from you in a while. Now I can see why” he raises his eyebrows at you in a teasing manner. You roll your eyes at him as you begin to tell him what has happened to you recently. 

Back at Jungkook’s apartment, he can’t stop thinking about the previous night he had spent with you. The way you looked at him, the way you touched him, the way you made him feel. This feeling was strange to him, something he had never felt before. Even with his previous partners. He can’t help but replay everything over again. He wonders how you feel right now. Maybe nothing because you’re with your family. 

He gets a notification from his phone. A party invitation to celebrate the end of the semester. He can’t think of partying right now. All he can think about is you. Thinking about how you feel about him, about how he feels. Everything is so complicated. Now he remembers why he doesn’t catch feelings anymore.

Does he have feelings?

Jungkook is pulled out of his trance when he hears the front door open. “Hey, where were you last night? I didn’t see you in your bed” Jimin says, his arms full of bags of groceries. “___’s” he stops in his tracks as he hears your name fall from his best friend’s lips. He quickly makes his way to where Jungkook is. Like a teenage girl waiting to hear about her friend’s first kiss he sits next to him “Did you guys do it? What happened? Are you guys dating now?” Jimin bombards him with endless questions that he doesn’t have the answers to. 

“Yes we did and no we’re not dating,” he says with a sigh. “So what are you?” Jungkook pauses to think of an answer to that question. But truthfully, he doesn’t know himself. “I don’t know, man. It happened so suddenly. She makes me feel something that I’ve never felt before. I don’t know how to explain it” he looks at his best friend. “It sounds like you like her, dude. I’ve never seen you so confused about a girl before. Usually, it’s just fuck and go” 

Jungkook stares at the floor thinking too much on the topic. He hasn’t heard from you since he left your apartment. And it’s driving him crazy. He dismisses it by changing the subject. “So, did you hear about the party that Seonghwa’s throwing?” “Yeah, you gonna go?” Jimin asks. Jungkook only shrugs his shoulders, maybe going will take him away from his worries. After all, it is the end of the semester. He deserves to let loose a bit.

“Hey, sorry I’m late” you look back at the voice. Jungkook leans down to place a kiss on your forehead. “It’s okay, I was just finishing up this last assignment. I was late on the deadline” you say typing on your computer He hums in response. “So are you going to Seonghwa’s party? I guess he’s throwing it as a celebration for the end of the semester” He says leaning in making sure you are looking at him. You laugh at him for his silly antics and think for a moment.

“Yeah, I think so. I don’t have anything else to do so why not?” you shake your head. Finishing up your last assignment you turn it in and finally close your laptop screen. You had been at it for at least two hours with a raging headache. All you wanted to do was lie down and sleep. Jungkook could see it on your face how tired you were.

“You look tired,” he points out. You only smile at him and lean your forehead on his shoulder. He places gentle kisses on your head and rubs small circles on your hand. “You wanna go back to my place?” He can feel you shake your head and he smiles at your actions. 

It’s only later when you bring Jungkook along with you back to your apartment. He lies there on your bed as you finish getting ready for tonight. You both still haven’t talked about that night you spent together and it’s driving you crazy. Jungkook is propped up against the backboard of your bed watching as you get ready. You look back at him in the mirror and you make eye contact.m That same feeling you felt ignites in your chest.

“Can you help me?” you say lifting your hair out of the way. He stands up from your bed and walks over to you.

He places his hand on your waist, the other on the zipper slowly zipping it up. He places a kiss on your bare shoulder and you turn your head to face him. He looks down at you with that same look again, the look that always had your heart racing. He leans down and connects your lips. Using his tongue to separate them, into something more heated. You moan into his mouth, softly pulling at his hair making his head tilt back. Breaking the kiss he smiles down at you and squeezes your waist. 

“Let’s go, Jimin said they started” you nod your head at him. Grabbing your purse and spraying a small amount of perfume around your neck you let him pull you out the door. 

Once you make it to the party, you’re met with the loud noise of people talking and the heavy-based music. You’re hand in hand with Jungkook. He looks around to see if he can find any of his friends. You spot Taehyung at a table full of alcohol talking to a girl you’ve never seen before. He waves over to you and Jungkook. “Hey, guys! Haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?” he pulls you in for a friendly hug, but over his shoulder you can see the girl he was talking with eyeing Jungkook. A familiar feeling of jealousy starts to brew within your chest. 

You brush it off with a smile and nod your head “I’ve been good, How have you been?” you ask him 

“You know, just been around doing whatever. I’m so glad the semester’s over. The past few months have been kicking my ass” he laughs. You were so immersed in your conversation with Taehyung that you didn't realize Jungkook was leaning down to you. “I’m gonna go find Jimin,” he says into your ear. You nod and send him a smile, he kisses the side of your head as he walks away to find his friends. As he’s walking away you catch the girl from earlier, her eyes trail along his well-built body. Once he disappears behind a door into another room she turns her head around back to you.

“Are you guys dating?” you honestly don’t know how to answer her question. Technically you’re not together, but you do things other people who say they are together do. This question stirs up a load of confusion in your brain. Taehyung, noticing the awkward silence on your end, butts in and says “He’s currently not looking for anything right now. You wanna dance?” He holds his hand out for the girl and she gladly takes it. Now that you’re left alone you realize that you don’t really know anyone there. 

You leave your spot on the hunt to look for Jungkook. His back is turned to you. Jimin looks over his shoulder looking at you, his head turning to see who his friend’s eyes had found. Jungkook walks over to you and his free hand finds your waist. “Hi, baby. You having fun?” you nod your head at him. A small smile sprawled on your lips. He notices a look on your face, his eyebrows furrow in concern. 

“What’s wrong?” he says, placing his cup on the counter next to him. You look up to him, his hand finding yours. You can see that look again. The one he gave you before the party, it makes your heart jump in your chest. You only shake your head in response, smiling at him. “Nothing, it’s just a little crowded in here,” you say into his ear. 

“Let’s get out then. This party is kinda lame anyway” he says as he pulls you away. You slightly tug at him, “No, it’s okay. It looked like you were having fun. You stay I’ll just find an Uber” He shakes his head in disagreement, “Really, I don’t mind. I don’t want you out by yourself. Especially at this hour. C’mon” Sighing in defeat you follow behind him hand in hand to the front door. Jungkook had told himself that he’d go to this party to let off some steam.

But he can’t seem to escape you. He doesn’t want to, it’s like you both have an invisible string attached to each other by the waist. You’re all he thinks about now. Everything reminds him of you and it scares him how much he feels for you. How much he yearns for you, but he won’t allow his heart to go through what he endured in the past. When you make it back to his apartment you take off his jacket that he had offered you earlier and place it on the coat rack next to the door. 

“Do you want something to drink?” he says. You look back at him from the living room shaking your head at him. 

“No, I’m fine”

For some odd reason, the air between you two has shifted. It has been different since you spent the night together. None of you dared to bring it up, to discuss what was going on between the two of you. Pulling you out of your thoughts soft music plays through the apartment.

You look up at Jungkook to find him standing next to a stereo playing with the different discs in the tray next to it. He looks back at you and softly smiles. Making his way next to you on the couch he sits closely, to the point you can feel his warmth radiating from his built body. 

Inside conjuring a warm heart, a person that doesn’t match his hard exterior. His bubbly eyes look down at you, with a look that makes your heart pound. He leans in closer, your noses touching, and your breathing pattern slows down to match his. As he gets closer the music starts to fade from your head. He gently places his lips on yours. This feeling is almost like intertwining two souls. Completely magical. This makes his heart rate pick up, the same feeling he had when he came back to his apartment all those nights ago. 

He doesn’t want it to scare him, but it does. 

Something inside tells him he should stop but he can’t. 

His heart is telling him to keep going. 

So, he does.

Your arms find their way around his neck, while his hands grip onto your waist. He pulls you up into his lap gliding his hands up to the zipper of your dress. Jungkook pulls the strap from your shoulder slowly, leaving your dress to pool at your waist, planting kisses on your shoulder. You look down at him with a look of something he can’t describe. It makes him feel warm, comfortable, and almost like he’s meant to be here with you. 

Small moans escape your mouth as he places one of his hands on your cheek moving them up into your hair. The small snap of your bra fills the silence of the room. The touch of the cold air on your perked nipples sends a shiver down your spine. He places wet kisses down your neck, trailing down to your chest. Wrapping his pink lips around you, you gasp out in pleasure. Your hands find a place in his soft raven hair tugging slightly. 

He draws small circles pulling you closer to him. He could never let you go. It’s like you’re a magnet pulling him closer with each breath you take. You’re like a never-ending labyrinth that he can’t escape. 

When did you have such an effect on him? 

The soft touch of your fingers on his abdomen sends chills through his entire body. Lifting his shirt over his head, his abs out on display. You lean down, placing kisses over his chest. Your hand finds its way over his beating heart. His fingers wrap around your wrist, rubbing small circles with his thumb. He watches you intently. Taking in all of your beauty, completely raw. 

What are you doing to him? 

You make his head spin endlessly. For a moment, you’re both still. Staring into each other’s eyes. There’s something different about your dynamic, something more warm, more comforting, maybe even like home. It really does frighten him deeply. But he doesn’t want this to end, ever. Slowly you lean in connecting your lips once again. He turns you over onto your back, his legs on either side of you. He pulls the dress down your legs and undoes his belt as he watches your chest move up and down as you try to catch your breath.

His big hand glides over your chest up to your throat, gently squeezing. He leans down, attaching himself to you. He parts your lips with his tongue. His free hand finds its way into your panties, exploring your folds. You moan out loud as you feel his digits enter. Covering your sound with his lips you moan into his mouth. Brows furrowing in absolute pleasure. He pulls away to watch your expressions. Pure ecstasy is drawn over your face as he adds another finger. 

He can feel himself grow harder in his boxers, watching as you enjoy yourself.

“Yeah? You like that baby?” he says under his breath. You only reply with a soft moan against his lips. Your foreheads together as you have a hand playing with his hair and the other gripping the sofa. He draws circles around your clit, getting to reach your high. Moaning out his name, he crashes his lips against yours. 

Pulling his hand away from your heat, he clutches his fingers around the waistband of your panties pulling them down your legs. He stands to take his boxers off, throwing them to the side. “I wanna taste you,” you say. He looks at you with his doll-like eyes. And then he shakes his head, giving you permission.

“Why don’t we have some fun?”

He lays down on the couch while you move to get on top of him. You take his hard cock into your hand, gliding it up and down. He wraps his arms around your waist planting soft kisses on your thighs. Jungkook leans in and places soft lips against your wet folds pulling you into him. Your hot breath hits the tip of cock and the sounds of his moans send vibrations through your body.  Planting soft kisses to his tip you run your tongue around until you take him in fully. 

This only gets him to be rougher. He completely pulls you down onto your face, drowning himself in your taste. You moan around his dick sucking harder. The fast motions of his tongue get you to pull off moaning out loud. “C’mon, baby. You said you wanted a taste” he teases. 

Your thighs begin to shake as he tongue finds your clit, running figure 8’s harsh. You wrap your lips around him once again and begin sucking. The sound of your wet pussy resounds in the almost quiet room, along with your moans. Your hand starts to stroke him at a fast pace. He moans into you, this gets you to lift yourself off of him. He only pulls you back strongly and quickens his pace. Not being able to take it anymore, you reach your high. You moan around him pulling off of him again. He gives you time to catch up to your normal breathing pattern.

Once you’ve calmed down he lifts you up so you’re facing him. His hands run up into your hair as he admires the way you look right now, sweat glistening across your forehead, your eyes slightly droopy. You’re like a goddess in his eyes. The most ethereal being he’s ever set his eyes on, he can’t look away. 

He runs his nose across your cheek, leaving small kisses on the corner of your cheek. “You ready for one more” he says quietly. 

“Mhm,” you hum softly. Carefully, Jungkook lifts his hips up slightly from the cushion beneath him.

Gently holding you, he reaches down to grab his still, hard cock. Teasing your entrance you moan out from the sensitivity. You dig your face into the crook of his neck muffling your moans. Slowly he enters you, your warm walls sucking him in. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, holding on to him like he’ll slip through them and disappear. He starts in a slow pace, hands finding comfort on the nape of your neck. You move your head to face him watching his face contort in pleasure. Leaning in you place soft pecks on his lip gradually becoming rougher. 

His pace picks up, roughly thrusting in hard. It doesn’t take long for you to reach your high. “Use me, baby,” you say in his ear. “I can take it” With those words he wraps his arms around your waist and snuggles his face into your neck. “Fuck, angel you’re so good to me” With one last stroke he fills you with his cum. Riding out his high he takes your soft lips with his and brings you into a passionate kiss. He can feel your juices drip from your spent cunt. 

Jungkook carefully lifts you in his arms and brings you to his bedroom, laying you on his bed. He grabs a towel from his bathroom and brings it over to you. The feeling of the wet towel against you makes you twitch. He worriedly looks up at you trying to read your expression. “Are you okay?” he says. 

“Yeah, I’m fine” you whisper, laying a hand on his cheek. 

“You wanna take a shower?” nodding your head you let him carry you away to the bathroom to help you wash up. He walks in first and sets you down on your feet. Jungkook leans over to grab the body wash from the corner of the shower.

Delicately rubbing it across your body. His arm is wrapped around your tummy, keeping you stable. You watch as the soap suds wash away, listening to his calm breathing. Next, he grabs the bottle of shampoo, squirting some into his hand and then soothingly rubbing it into your hair. You turn in his arms wrapping your arms around his waist, closing your eyes as you let him take care of you. That glowing feeling in your chest starts up again. The same feeling you have any time you’re with him. Your ear is against his strong chest. Listening to his heart beat rhythmically. 

You don’t notice how tired you are until you suddenly feel the softness of his pillow hitting your head. Jungkook’s strong arms hold you tightly causing you to fall into a slumber. That night you dream about all of the events that happened.

The loud noise on the other side of the door causes you to wake up. You turn around to an empty spot on the bed next to you. You lay in bed for a moment, replaying the events of last night. When the door opens to Jungkook’s door Jimin doesn’t expect you to walk out of it wearing his best friend’s shirt. “Oh hi, ___,” he says with a pan of eggs in his hand. You look around for Jungkook, but to your dismay, he’s nowhere to be found. “Where’s Jungkook?” you say. 

“Uhh, I don’t know. He’s not in there?” he says with confusion written on his face. 

“No, I thought he’d be out here” 

“I didn’t see him when I got home this morning”

Questions start to brew in your head. You walk over to your purse that you left on the couch, digging for your phone. Looking through your contacts you look for the man in question.

Me: Hey, where’d you go? [9:15 AM]

You walk over to pick up your clothes off the floor, embarrassed as Jimin sits at the table eating his breakfast. “I’m sure he’ll turn up, he never leaves unannounced. You shake your head and give him a small nod. 

When you get back to your apartment you set down your bag on the sofa next to the coffee table, slumping your body down along with it. The TV remote set beside you as you turned it on to kill time now that you no longer had class for the time being. About an hour passes by and still no sign of Jungkook. Your suspicion grows larger. He never takes this long to respond. 

The sound of your keys rings through your ear as you pick them up from the bowl next to the door. You drive with only one place in mind. The rapid knocking disrupts Jin’s peaceful slumber. His mouth was wide open as he sleeps his life away. Quickly he jolts from his bed and walks over to his front door. “Who the hell is knocking at my door at eleven o’clock in the morning?” he grumbles under his breath. When he opens the door he’s met with an irritated look on your face. “__?” 

“Where’s Jungkook? I spent the night at his and he disappeared and now he isn’t returning my messages” 

Jin looks at you in confusion. “Is everything alright? He hasn’t come by in a while” he says 

“I don’t know, I’m just-” you pause

“I’m worried about him” 

Now Jin looks even more confused. “Daddy?” Minchae speaks behind her father, dressed in her unicorn pajamas and half of her hair is up in a small bun. The moment she realizes it’s you on the other side of the door she gasps in joy and quickly runs up to you, engulfing you with her tiny arms. “Hi sweetie,” you say, a soft smile playing across your lips. “Are you here to see Uncle Kookie?!” she exclaims. “Ahhh Minnie, I think mommy wanted to finish doing your hair, only one side of your head is done” 

“Mommy said she was gonna put my hair into space buns!” 

“Ohh so that’s what those are called, well you better hurry up so you look even more beautiful for today” you watch as the father-daughter scene plays out. You can’t believe how much you’ve grown to love this little girl in only one night. Absolutely adorable. “I’m sorry, ___ but I haven’t seen Kook in at least a few weeks.” a look of disappointment grows across your features. “It’s okay, thank you,” you say. 

You sit in your car –completely distraught. Your phone in your hand, tight in your grasp. The device buzzes once, and then twice. No answer. Jungkook looks down at his phone, reading your name with the cute flower emoji that always reminded him of you. He couldn’t bring himself to face you yet. Every single time he’s around you it’s like you consume him. It’s like he’s lost in his own world filled with you. Nobody around him matters except for you – and it terrifies the fuck out of him this feeling completely engulfs him. 

Jungkook lies in the open field close to the park he took you to all those weeks ago. Trapped in nothing but a void of endless thoughts of what he has to do now. Mind hazy. He looks down at his phone again, your name appears once again. For the second time, he ignored it. 

1 month later

The fall leaves crunch under your new Uggs you bought a while back. The new semester has started and now it is time for endless nights of no sleep and studying. The buzzing of your phone vibrates against you, pulling it out of your back pocket. “Hey,” you say. “Hi, you wanna meet up later during lunch?” You pull your phone away from your ear to check if you have any classes around that time. “Yeah, let’s meet up at one?” 

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then” You hang up the phone and continue on your way to class. When you get there, there aren't as many students as you were expecting. Some of them may have still been on vacation. I mean, could you blame them? No one ever wants to go back to school after a long break. But it has to be done somehow. 

You sit down in the seat you always sat at, looking over to the seat next to you. Feeling pain in your chest as you think about the man that would sit next to you every day. The man that broke your heart. Looking away and down at your last semester notes to refresh your brain. 

After the many hours of looking down at your professors, you finally manage to make it to the diner. You slump down into your seat, throwing your bag onto the one next to you. “Rough day?” Hoseok says. He decided to transfer to your school during his second semester. He says that they offered more than they did back home. “Dude, you don’t understand how much my head hurts. It’s only my first day back and I’ve written so many notes it’s not even funny” you complain. Your best friend chuckles at you as he looks down at the menu to figure out what he was going to have for lunch. 

“How do you like the school? It’s nice, right” you ask. He looks up at your question. 

“Yeah, it is. I didn’t realize how big it was” There’s silence for a moment until he speaks again. “Have you heard from him?” You pause whatever you’re doing and bring your attention to him again. Clearing your throat you say “No, I haven’t. And I don’t think I want to” 

“When was the last time you heard from him?” 

“Uh-” you pause

“The last time I spent the night with him after that party” It’s silent again. 

“What a douche,” he says. “He’s an asshole for that. How does he go from being all over you and acting like a couple when-”

“I don’t know, I just wanna stop talking about it.” you interrupt. From then on you only talk about school and the thought of you getting a cat.

“How can they be so cute yet so dumb sometimes?” you ask yourself. The compilation of cats is displayed on the TV as you’re dressed in a thin tank top and a pair of sweatpants. Ice cream in your hands –after the eventful day you had you deserved it. It’s not only when you're interrupted by a knocking on your door. After finally getting comfortable you, once again, have to get up. Maybe it was Hoseok coming back to get something he left. “What did you forget this time?” you yell.

You completely stop when you find that it isn’t your best friend on the other side of your door. But the man that would give you those same sparkly eyes whenever he was around you. “What are you doing here?” it comes out in almost a whisper. “__” Jungkook walks forward to hold you.

You flinch back, moving your arms to cross over your stomach. His heart hurts at your actions. But he understands why you did it.

“I wanna talk to you.” he says quietly.

He steps into the house and closes the door behind him. “What is there to talk about? I didn’t think you had anything to talk about” you threw at him.

“I’m sorry-”

“You’re sorry?”

“You’re sorry for making me look like a fucking idiot?” you can feel your blood begin to boil. Tear ducts forming at your waterline –the lump in your throat beginning to grow, preventing you from speaking.

“You’re not sorry for shit Jungkook, you made me feel so shitty about myself for thinking-” your voice breaks “For thinking what, __?”

“For thinking that you loved me! For thinking that I actually saw something with you, fuck! Jungkook, you don’t understand, you don’t understand how much you hurt me.” you cry to him screaming at the top of your lungs.

Jungkook is completely still. Unmoving.

“I do, love you” he says quietly.

But you don’t take it.

“Bullshit”

You move your head to the side, not baring to look at him. “Get out,”

“Please-”

“Get out! I don’t want to see you anymore” you exclaim. But, he resists. Jungkook walks up to you, wanting so badly to hold you for hurting you. Much to his surprise, you let him. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says into your hair. Your face is buried into his chest, the fabric of his hoodie becoming soaked because of you. “No” you muffle.

“No. No, no, no!”

You push him away. Hitting on his chest, he looks down at you, a shameful look on his face. “Get out! Leave!” you pound on his chest. He takes every hit like it’s nothing. It only irritates you further. “Please, leave Jungkook” he nods in response. Slowly making his way to the same door he walked through.

Sobs echo through the apartment. Falling to your knees you cry into your hands.

Jungkook, still on the other side of the door, hears your sobs. His own tear fell down his round cheeks. He couldn’t do anything but beat himself up over and over again for the way he treated you. For the way he acted towards you and for leaving you in such an awful state. He makes it back to his car, and he sits there for a moment in silence, lip quivering as he thinks about everything he had put you through.

Present 

“Finally! It took you about five thousand years to leave that room” Jimin says dramatically. The afternoon sun was shining and he had been in and out of the house for the majority of the day. However, Jungkook had been wallowing in his guilt. The guilt he’s felt for the past month and the additional days. The quiet boy sits at the counter sluggishly. Days passed since he last saw you. You were all he thought about – day and night every hour and every second. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like a total fuck up” voice groggy. 

“C’mon, have you at least tried talking to her?” there’s a long silence until Jungkook says something. “She doesn’t want to talk-” Just the thought of not being able to hold you or even look at you is killing him on the inside. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me. Man, what the fuck am I going to do? I’m so lost” he admits. 

He was so scared of this. Losing you. You were the bane of his happiness and he did everything but keep you safe, instead, he completely let everything go – including you. The cluttering of the bowl and spoon snaps Jungkook out of his thoughts. “Well you need to eat, I haven’t seen you this disoriented since you had to say bye to Gureum when you left home. You’re even worse now” 

His appetite has gone away ever since he stopped talking to you. He had been spiraling, thinking all about you – how he felt about you. He couldn’t take it anymore, the overthink, the constant hurt of not spending his time with you. Staring at his bowl of cereal contemplating if he should call you, he doubts you’d ever pick up but he has to try, right? Jungkook stands from the counter and walks back to his room. “Hey! You didn’t finish eating!” Jimin exclaims from the other room. Frantically, Jungkook searches everywhere for his phone. He hadn’t picked it up in days and has been sitting somewhere in his room untouched. 

Finally, when he finds the piece of technology he quickly presses the power button; wishing for it to turn on already. To his dismay, it had been dead since he set it down. He looks around for his charger. After finding the wretched thing he plugs it into the outlet next to his bed and plugs the other end into his phone. 

After what felt like hours the phone displayed a white apple in the middle of it. He scrolls through his contacts looking for your name desperately. That flower that will forever remind him of you appears in front of his eyes and he quickly clicks it. The multiple rings vibrate through his ear. 

“C’mon” 

Your call has been forwarded–

“Fuck” he tries one more time. The ringing begins but quickly ends after the fourth. His brows touched in distraught. “Fuck __,” he says under his breath. Out of impulse, Jungkook picks up whatever clothes he finds first and throws them on. Not caring about how he’d look in front of you. 

He rushes out of his bedroom door and picks up his keys from the bowl set on the counter. After hearing the noise Jimin says “Where are you going?” but before the younger could respond he was already out of the door. Upon opening the door Jungkook swiftly closes it when he gets into the driver’s seat and carefully but hurriedly makes his way to your place. 

A stop light prevents him from getting there any quicker he yells “Fucking light, hurry up!”. 

Following up after many stop signs and stop lights, he finally makes it to the place he yearns to be at the most. Almost running up the steps he trips over one. “Shit” He reaches your floor and walks up to the door. Repeatedly knocking on the wood. He takes his phone out of his sweat pocket and pulls up your chat. 

Me: Please open the door [3:00 PM]

He waits for the dancing dots to appear and when they do his heart jumps for just a moment but only for it to settle down after reading your text. 

__ 🌺: no i don’t want to see you [3:01 PM]

“I’m not gonna go away unless you open this door!!”

“Go away Jungkook!” he hears your voice over his excessive knocking. 

“Please, I want to talk to you” It’s only when he hears shuffling on the other side of the door that he stops. 

Everything disappears when he sees your face again. After going a day without seeing you. “What do you want” your eyes look everywhere but him. 

“I love you.” 

“And before you say anything let me just explain” you stand there blankly looking at his boba like eyes that you always adored. 

“I love how much you care for others, I love how you can take a joke and not get upset about it, I love the way you look at me, I love the way you are with me, I love everything about you, __” you stare at him with glassy eyes. You bite your lip, preventing yourself from letting out a sob. 

“I love you so much that I’m scared that I’ll lose you. Scared that you won’t love me back. Fuck I love you so much that it pains me to see how much I hurt you” now Jungkook has tears forming. You hear him sniffle, your hand coming up to wipe the tear that had slid down his cheek. 

“Oh, Jungkook”

“I love you, too” 

After hearing those three words, his hands cup your cheeks. “I love you so much,” he says against your lips — softly pecking until he wraps his around yours.

The early night breeze flows through your window. The large man wraps his arms around your waist, holding on to you tightly – almost as if you’d vanish if he let go. Your hands are tangled into his hair playing with the soft mane against your fingers. A show plays in the background that none of you are really paying attention to. His hands find their way under your shirt softly touching your skin. It’s not until you yawn into your hand does he looks up at you. “Are you tired?” 

“Yeah, a little bit” 

He moves up so he’s now in front of your face, and his eyes move down to your lips. Gently brushing against them. One of your arms wraps around his neck – securing him in his spot. “Do you want to go to bed?” you shake your head up and down and stare into his bright eyes. 

To your surprise, he tightens his grip around your waist and properly carries you to your room. Jungkook kicks the door open softly and carefully places you on the bed. He hovers over you for just a moment until he’s leaning in. Lips locking, his hands roam your stomach. His tongue tangles with yours, his hand moving towards your face, cuffing your cheek delicately swiping his thumb over it. 

“Let’s go to bed,” he says, pulling away a bit. 

“You know what, I’m not really that tired. 

That sly grin appears on your face and he shakes his head at it. “Oh, really?” 

“Mhm, maybe I can stay up for another hour or two” 

Slowly, he slides your body up further on the bed, hands roaming your waist. His lips place feather-light kisses on the side of your lips. Your arms wrap around his neck bringing him closer to you – your lips colliding. Delicately, handling you as if you’d break if he was any rougher. “Can I take this off?” 

“Mm” Jungkook’s fingers hook with the waistline of your pants slowly dragging it down your body. Along with your panties, the cold air hits your pussy – a shiver running along your spine. Jungkook kisses down to your waist, lifting your shirt a bit to reveal the softness of your skin. 

His mouth hovering over your nether lips. Kisses are pressed against your inner thigh. Your head tilted to the ceiling, relishing in his careful touches. Finally, Jungkook’s hands wrap around your thighs, bringing you closer to him. The warmth of his breath against your sex. 

Your hands find comfort in his soft raven hair tugging harshly, you plead “Please, baby”

“I gotchu Angel, don’t worry” his eyes look up at your desperate expression. He dives in, licking a long stripe against your tainted pussy – legs thrown over his shoulders. Moaning, your other hand finds the pillow beneath your head. His erratic movements pull sounds from you that he’s been yearning to hear for so long now. 

In complete bliss, he brings you impossibly closer. His tongue finds your bundle of nerves running figure 8s along where you’re most sensitive. A finger prods at your entrance, slowly but surely entering you. “Fuck,” 

“Yeah? You like that baby?” he watches as your face contorts in pleasure. Soon enough he adds another. The nasty sounds of your soaked pussy fills the room. “Right there, Jungkook” 

“Am I making you feel good Angel?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” you scream. 

“Shit, I’m gonna cu-” It’s then again that his mouth dives in. Much rougher, his tongue faster. The squeeze to your thighs and his harsh movements are what send you over the edge.  “Yes! Jungkook, right there baby” you moan. Your essence spills onto him, he takes his time cleaning you up with his mouth. Your hips twitch out of sensitivity. 

“I know, baby. I know” 

He kisses your stomach before making his way back to you. He connects his lips with yours, you can taste yourself on his tongue. The sides of his mouth are wet from your cum. “It’s not fair that I’m the only one without clothes” 

Jungkook’s hands run along the sides of your waist. “Who said I was done?” 

He stands tall in front of you. His hands fall to grab the hem of his shirt – pulling it away from his torso along his sweatpants and boxers. His cock hitting his stomach, the sight making you drool. 

Hurriedly he connects your lips, tongues colliding. Your hand finds the nape of his neck playing with his now long hair. The same feeling explodes within his chest. The same feeling he was so scared of dealing with, now becoming a part of him. 

“I need you, baby”

“You have me, my love” 

Love. So unfamiliar yet it comes so natural to him now – with you.

His cock prods at your entrance, sliding it against your wet pussy. “Eugh, baby please, please” you beg. Jungkook places small kisses against your lips as if to calm you down. “I gotchu baby, I need you to relax for me” 

Slowly he slides home, easily entering you. Wrapping your arms around his neck –holding tightly. His hips rock into yours slowly at first. The euphoria of finally being with you filled his mind. 

At last, he’s with the one he most treasures, the person that has found home in his heart. 

His hands ran along your thigh, lifting so your legs were wrapped around him. After making sure you were comfortable enough he picks up the pace. The room is filled with the filthy sounds of your moans combined with the squelching of your pussy. 

“You okay baby?” 

Your head bobs up and down you say “More than okay”

He worships you through the whole night. Thanking every star above that they’ve brought you to him. “I love you, angel, so much,” he says in an almost whisper. His hand cupped your cheek running his thumb along the softness of your cheek.

“I love you too” stars are in your eyes. Watching as the man before you admires every part of you. Never wishing to let go. His hand comes down to where you need him most. Rubbing figure 8s along your clit. And this drives you over the edge. Your thighs shake, clenching around his cock – sucking him in. 

“Shit, I’m gonna cum” 

“Please come in me, baby. I need you so bad” 

With his final thrust, your walls are covered with white ropes of his cum. The room is now silent, only filled with your breathing. “Did I hurt you?” he says. Silently shaking your head you look up at him, examining every freckle and mole on his well-structured face. “Let’s get you cleaned up then, hmm?” 

“Okay” 

Jungkook gets up and walks over to your bathroom, already knowing where everything is. When he comes back to the bed he finds you fast asleep. A small chuckle escapes from his lips as he plays with the towel in his hands. He picks up his boxers he had tossed somewhere across the room and puts them on. He looks through your drawers and looks for something more comfortable for you to sleep in. 

Carefully he dresses you in one of his T-shirts he had left there a while ago and your panties. Jungkook tucks the both of you into bed, cuddling into your chest. Quietly he says “I love you, Angel. More than you’ll ever know.

 The room is still dark when you wake up. The dim lamp is lit on the corner of your desk. Jungkook is sat up against the headboard, his phone illuminating his strong features. The clock beside you reads 5:45 AM. He hears the ruffling of your sheets beside him, pulling his attention away from his phone and to you. 

“Hey, what are you doing awake?” you say. He shrugs his shoulders and replied “Dunno, couldn’t sleep” 

“I was up all night thinking” 

“Thinking about what?” he strikes your curiosity. “About how much I hurt you, and how I caused you to hurt so much because of my stupid feelings-”

“Baby, it doesn’t matter now. We’re together now, right? Let’s focus on us right now. Not what happened in the past” you say, kissing the mark on his shoulder. “I know, it’s just” he pauses. “I should’ve talked to you, instead of walking away, y’know? This all could’ve been avoided if I had just came to you.” 

“I know that it’s hard to express what you’re feeling. But I can help you through that. The only way I can do that is if you don’t shut me out, I need to know what’s wrong so we can get through whatever it is together” his eyes are focused on his fingers playing with the comforter. 

“Hey, look at me” Your hand tilts his head towards you. Those bubbly eyes looking at you now. “I need you to talk to me, okay?” he nods his head. Eyes teary after thinking about everything. He sniffles, lips quivering. “I love you,” you comfort. You run your thumb across his lips gently, calming him down. “I love you too” You lean closer to him, placing kisses against his lips. 

-

“Uncle Kookie!!” Minchae calls for her favorite uncle. “Hey, munchkin, how are you?” he places a kiss on her cheek. You watch from behind your boyfriend smiling from ear to ear watching him with his baby niece. “I’m good! Hi auntie!” she says to you next. “Hey Minnie, I missed you!” you say as she practically dives into your arms. You both walk to the backyard where everyone else is. Everyone greets the both of you warmly. Hugs are given and small conversations are made. 

You have occupied yourself with Aria as you speak on and on about how much Minchae has grown. Watching her play with all of the toys she had lying around in the grass. Jin and Namjoon stood by the grill conversing as well. Jimin had been playing one of his Mario games with Taehyung and Yoongi had his guitar in his hand, playing a soft melody, setting the mood.

This is what Jungkook had been looking for: surrounded by the people he loved the most. His eyes find you watching his niece do one of the funny dances she always likes to do. A smile adores your pretty lips, your cheeks rosy from the slight fall breeze. He loved seeing you happy like this, loved how you were with his friends, loved the way you always had room in your heart for anyone, no matter the circumstance. 

Jungkook loved you and will forever say those three words for the rest of his life.

yay!! after so long, I've finished wait for your love 🥹. it has been a long time coming but i pray you all like it. this has to be my favorite to have written AND my longest! i do hope that in the future that i have the ability to create more stories like this one. i do have a few ideas in mind but ill let this one sink in 😊. happy reading lovelies 💜

[itsgodepi]

First Loser | MV33

Summary: In the wake of a disastrous race, you're caught under the media's unforgiving glare. Your every move and word is dissected for days on end while you simply try to navigate your rookie year in Formula One. It is just your luck that your opponent in this fiasco is none other than the famously outspoken driver: Max Verstappen.  Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader Word Count: 8k Warnings: accident, anxiety, enemies to lovers Notes: Part 1 of the series Chasing Firsts, can be read as a standalone. Also on AO3

The air rushes into your lungs with ragged intensity, each inhale a searing burn that seems to set your chest aflame. The tight straps of the safety belt only exacerbate the struggle, constricting your breathing while your hands uselessly claw at the buckle. Muscles so unbelievably stiff that every movement make it feel like needles are digging into your skin.  

You force your eyes open, vision swimming in a blur of unrecognizable shapes and distorted shadows. Blood is surging through your veins like molten lava, pooling into a searing knot at the center of your chest. It pounds furiously against your ribs, each thunderous beat reverberating through the tempest of thoughts that swirl uncontrollably in your mind. 

You’re out. Done. Everything you worked for, everything you hoped for, slipping through your fingers like sand. 

Frustration boils over, erupting into raw, unchecked rage. You slam your foot down on the pedals with every ounce of strength you can muster, your fists pounding against the nearest surface with resounding thuds. The sounds are deafening in the confined space of the cockpit, a violent release that leaves your hands stinging and a wave of dizziness washing over you. 

A sigh slides through your lips. What are you even doing? You are too out of it. 

You slump back into the seat, your resolve crumbling as fatigue overwhelms you. The battle to keep your eyes open only intensifying the pounding in your head. What’s the point anyway? The scene before you is devastating —barriers looming over your side, a twisted wheel perched precariously on the hood of your car, and just ahead, a dark Formula One car buried in the gravel. 

That fucking Red Bull. 

Tears begin to pool in your eyes as the adrenaline that once chased the. away slowly drains, leaving behind a trembling mess. It’s done. The pressure in your chest tightens with each passing second, the fabric over your cheeks dampening with disappointment. In yourself, in your choices, in everything that led you to this very moment. At least this stupid helmet shields you from the outside world, from the screams of the crowd and unattainable promises. The only thing protecting you as you break down.

It was so close. 

The sound of a revving engine slices through your tears, yanking you back to the harsh reality of the moment. To your fate. Your hand instinctively grasps the wheel as the static in your ears begins to fade.  

“Are you okay?” the repeated message crackles over the radio, each time louder than the last, ringing in your ears. The race engineer’s voice is tinged with urgency, and you realize he must have been asking that since you first grazed the track limits. 

You struggle to articulate a response, your jaw muscles aching from being clenched so tightly during the crash. “Yes, I... Yeah, it’s okay” the faint voice that escapes your lips barely recognizable, even to you. Blame your laboured breath or the tears sliding non-stop down your cheeks for making you talk like you haven’t pronounced a word in months. 

The radio comes alive once again, interferences cutting into the race engineer’s words, though his relief is evident. More time than you expected must have gone by; silence is never a good sign in these situations.  

You can't quite decipher his exact message over the noise, but you push past the fog in your mind to respond “I’m alright, the car started sli—” 

However, your train of thought is abruptly interrupted by the sight of the other protagonist of the crash. Seeing him climbing out of the wreckage of his car, seemingly unscathed despite the severity of the collision, filling you with profound relief and just momentarily silencing your racing thoughts. 

The sight of Max looking towards your car pulls you further from the fog. Your gaze lock onto him, on his purposeful stride as he heads straight toward you. 

A flutter of disbelief mingles with the tension in your chest —is he coming to check on you?

As he draws closer, the corners of your mouth curl into a small smile, a reaction you can’t suppress despite the circumstances. He must have noticed you still seated in the car, frozen, while the marshals were still nowhere to be seen. Again, not a good sign in the motorsports' world.

When he is close enough to the vehicle, you manage to stick a hand out of the halo, giving him a thumbs-up to signal that you’re okay. “I’m so sorry, guys. I tried, I promise I really tried to...” your voice trembles with raw emotion as you are back to speaking into the radio, each word laced with a mix of sadness and desperation. 

You take a moment to collect yourself, eyes closed as you breathe deeply, when suddenly, you feel your hand being slapped away. Startled, your eyes snap open, looking to where your hand was a moment ago as your crawl it close to your chest.  

You see Max looming over your seat, a hand gripping the bar of your halo while the other waves angrily through the air. You watch him, open mouthed, hear to his angry yells, muffled by both your helmet and his, that make his words unrecognizable. But it is as if you knew exactly what he was saying. 

Max’s anger and the frustration of the moment collide within you, a storm of emotions that bursts out uncontrollably.

"What the fuck? It was your fault, you fucking asshole,” you scream at him with all the force you are lacking “And now you dare to come here to intimidate —!” 

The fury in your voice, the sheer anguish of what you had lost... Reliving it sends a shiver down your spine. If you lift your eyes to the screen behind the journalist, you can also watch the exact moment the communications with the team were cut.

That’s it, you spring from the seat, completely enraged by Max's audacity to come reprimand anything after the manoeuvre he had pulled on you, and the radio’s cable goes flying in the air. Ripped off the socket.

A perfect shot. 

And finally, some privacy for one of the worst moments of your life. They had enough with the video being played on every single screen of the paddock. If only you had managed to hit that damn button again and shut off the microphone. 

You let out a sigh, gripping the steel barricade between the interviewer and you, as if trying to release some of the emotions still coursing through you. “It’s no one’s fault really, these things happen... I was just overwhelmed by the situation and said the intimidation thing, just completely drunk off adrenaline. Like Max probably” 

The statement might not align with your true feelings, but when hundreds of interviewers are knocking over each other to get your statement and the images are being endlessly replayed, it is what you have to say. No need for it to blow more.

This is also how you justify your reaction, not only to all the other journalists that same day, with trembling hands and a still-thrashing heart, but also throughout the following week in Belgium. The same questions are repeated time and time again, your words are played in every medium of communication interested in Formula One and beyond, yet your response remains the same. 

A car crash like that would drive anyone to their wits’ end. 

It got easier to say after every new interview, your body finally pushing out of that shock state after the crash, the fear of jumping into the car gone after the first practice at the Spa-Francorchamps Circuit. Although you could not say the same about your state of mind, not with the constant taunting. 

Max had only given a few interviews the day of, looking the least bit apologetic but acknowledging his part in the incident and lamenting that both your races had come to a sudden end. When asked specifically about his outburst, he gave curt, regretful answers—no regret in sight, of course. Yet, later on, and probably advised by his media team, he decided to align himself with your ‘drunk on adrenaline’ statement. It was a convenient choice, indeed. 

Nonetheless, it looks like the effect of his media team’s nagging did not last long. 

“Max, the stewards have just issued the resolution for the impeding of Perez in Q2. The Haas will receive a three-place grid penalty. Any thoughts?” someone asks as Max is making his way out of the paddock, backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“To thirteenth?” Max wonders, sipping from his bottle with a curious look, slowing his pace so the interviewer and camera can catch up. 

The mention of your incident on Qualy has caught his attention.

“No, she’s dropped to fourteenth” the interviewer corrects, glancing at the press release on his phone and pointing the microphone back at the Dutch driver. 

Max tilts his head to the side, his lips pursed “That’s... okay, seems alright”. It’s almost inaudible, his head turning back to open the car’s door, as though it’s a simple reflection.  

You know full well it isn’t. This is not his first time being caught in a drama, and it’s clearly not his first fight. And he has seen the video, it's not a fair penalty for you.

“That’ll make for a calm race, isn’t that right?” the journalist pokes, a smirk evident in his voice. He has Max right where he wants him. And the Dutch response doesn't let him down.

Max laughs at it. He laughs.

And, that’s it, what might seem like just another trivial reaction, in the wake of last week’s drama, turns the media into a storm. 

You can’t keep track of the times you are tagged in the video, the headlines it makes or the messages you privately receive about it. It’s everywhere, inescapable. All you can do is bite your lip and grimace every time the topic arises in the media pen. 

Which is in every single interview.

If you were being completely honest, the media frenzy had not come as much of a shock. Max Verstappen's reputation for his bluntness precedes him, and you know it firsthand since it has been directed at you quite a few times. Your history with the Dutch driver has always been a complex mix of distant acquaintances and unspoken rivalries. The latter includes his offhand remarks when you first joined the sport or the critics to your start in Bahrain earlier on the season, which had not been exactly pleasant but also not unexpected. 

Those digs had been easy enough to ignore; you did not care what he had to say, so the controversy died a few days later when you didn’t throw a jab back. It’s just your luck that, out of all the drivers, you had impeded his teammate's fast lap. 

Looks like it wasn’t enough having such a hard penalty thrown at you. A small error by your race engineer cost you the opportunity to climb up the grid and put you in Verstappen’s crosshairs. 

It’s all you can think about as you ride the truck during the driver’s parade, the crowd’s cheers and waves a distant blur. Their enthusiasm should have lifted your spirits, should have reminded you of the dream you were living. But instead, you find yourself retreating inward, pulling away from the others and slipping into the far corner of the truck, leaning heavily against the railing.  

A small bubble of isolation in the midst of a roaring celebration. 

A huge banner in the crowd catches your eye —a splash of color with your name and number framed with lots of glitter and hearts. You can't help but smile at the gesture, a genuine one that breaks through the storm inside you. The woman holding the sign notices your gaze and waves it enthusiastically. Her mouth moves, likely shouting words of encouragement, but the roar of the crowd drowns out her voice. 

You wave some more, grin stretching wider as you catch her excited reaction. In your moment of distraction, your shirt shifts, revealing a large bruise that snakes across your side —a nasty reminder of the crash back in Hungary. It has now become a deep mix of purple and yellow, sprawling across your ribs in a way that’s hard to ignore. 

And it doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Hey, what happened there?” Daniel’s voice cuts through, his concern evident as he leans in the railing, eyes wide with concern. 

You glance down, momentarily startled by the sight of the dark, ugly bruise. “Just from the crash last week,” you mutter, instinctively pulling the hem of your top down to hide it, but not before Daniel's concerned gaze catches it fully “It’s taking ages to heal”. 

His eyebrows furrow in alarm. “That’s not just a bruise! I didn’t know it had been that bad” His hand hovers near your side, filled with an instinct to help “‘You sure you should be racing?” 

Before you can respond, the exchange draws the attention of a couple drivers nearby. Alex and Lando wander over, their curiosity piqued by Daniel's reaction. 

Lando’s eyes narrow as he takes in the bruise. "Shit, that looks bad" his blunt remark gaining him a nudge from Alex. 

You let out a small, tired laugh “Thank you? I guess” 

Alex steps closer, peering over Lando’s shoulder with a look of genuine worry. "Did you talk to the doctors?" 

Daniel, glancing at where the bruise hides with a sympathetic frown, quietly adds “And the mechanics too...” 

“Yeah, I’m cleared, looks worse than it is. And trust me, I’m not missing this race” you state, the discomfort in your ribs and the sudden attention making you shift uncomfortably. “Got some extra padding in the seat now, though.” 

The group doesn’t push any further, only giving you tight-lipped smiles and exchanging a few glances between them, though you can tell they’re not entirely convinced. You’re relieved when the truck starts moving toward the pitlane, signalling the end of the driver’s parade and allowing you to escape the spotlight, if only for a moment. 

As you step down from the truck and head towards the garage, Verstappen suddenly falls into step beside you. You glance at him, eyebrows knitting together in confusion and irritation. 

“Hey,” he says, eyes flickering down to your side “You alright?” 

The question feels loaded, more than just concern for your physical well-being. It’s the first real acknowledgment of what happened between you two, and the tension crackles between you like static. 

You tense, your anger simmering beneath the surface. "I’m completely fine" you say, a little sharper than intended, still raw from the incident and everything that has transpired since.  

"Look, I’m sorry you got hurt.” the Red Bull driver sighs, hand coming up to scratch his cheek. “But, you know, there was nothing I could do. You left me no space and— " 

That makes you stop in your tracks, fists clenching at your sides as you spin to face him. A forced smile is plastered across your face, though your eyes are burning with frustration. You are fully aware of where you are, can feel the eyes trained on you, the people discreetly gathering by your sides but not daring to approach. You are right at the entrance of the pit lane, under the gaze of spectators in the grandstands and the guests hanging balconies over the garages. 

“Oh, so this is what it’s about?” you snap, voice laced with venomous sweetness. “You want me to say you did great, that ‘oh poor thing, I wasn’t letting you race’?” 

Verstappen’s expression hardens, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment, clearly not expecting the bite in your tone. "No, that’s not—" 

“Watch the fucking video, Max,” you interrupt his explanation, your smile still in place but your words sharp. “I was right there. You turned in like I wasn’t even racing you!” 

Max’s face reddens, his anger palpable as he tries to defend himself. “I’m not going to let you just blame me for everything,” he retorts, voice deep “You knew you couldn’t hold up and yet, you kept blocking me. You know better than that!” 

“I know better?!” you repeat incredulously “It’s you who drives like a maniac, pushing every fucking limit and expecting everyone to get out of your way!” 

“That’s not fair, and you know it." the Dutch’s eyes narrow, clearly stung by your accusation." I came to apologize, but it looks like you’re too busy playing the victim to actually have a normal conversation.” 

“Go fuck yourself, Max,” you say, the smile on your face a strained mask of anger for the cameras capturing every second of this standoff “I shouldn’t have saved your sorry ass. You came to intimidate me then, and now you’re just trying to do it again.” 

Everyone is waiting for a reaction, something they can replay and dissect for days on end. That is what they want, what Max wants, but you are decided not to give it to them. Not here, not ever. 

The word ‘intimidate’ hits Max like a punch. His eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something else—maybe hurt, maybe disbelief— but before he can respond, someone else interrupts the scene. 

Daniel saunters over with his signature grin, throwing an arm around Max’s shoulders and pulling him in like they’re just two friends hanging out before a race. The casualness of the move feels jarring against the heated tension between, but Daniel’s intentions are clear. 

“Alright, alright, let’s cool down, kids,” Daniel says, his tone playful but cutting the tension immediately. “We’ve got a race ahead, yeah?” 

There’s an undertone of urgency in Daniel’s eyes as they flick between you, practically begging you both to play along. Verstappen stiffens under Daniel’s arm, the anger still radiating off him in waves, but he doesn’t push him off. Instead, he also forces a tight-lipped smile, letting the older driver guide him towards the garage. 

Daniel looks back at you from a few meters away, his eyes full of unspoken questions. You meet his gaze and offer a slight nod, hoping he’ll understand you’ll be alright. You hope so. 

That day, Verstappen is crowned the winner of the Belgium Grand Prix, lifting his trophy amidst a blur of celebratory cheers and flashing cameras. The dominance of his Red Bull had been undeniable, easily overtaking Lewis Hamilton in just a few laps and maintaining a consistent five-second lead. It was a victory that felt almost inevitable. The superiority of the machine, and his skill, had made this race his from the start. 

“Well, sometimes you have to be smart and know when to pick up a fight” Verstappen states with a shrug during the post-race interviews, still sticky with champagne, adjusting his cap with nonchalance. His words were casual, but the undertone of superiority was clear. “Simple as that” 

Then came the voice, sharp and loud enough to turn heads in the press room: "Some people love wasting everyone’s time." 

The crowd of reporters fell into a hush. Everyone knew what that comment referred to—your battle with Max earlier in the race. Though it only took Max half a lap to pass you, the ferocity with which you defended your position had been the talk of the week. Some praised it as spirited, but most agreed it was just a roadblock for the Dutchman. 

Max could have ignored it. He could have chosen silence. But instead, he picked up the microphone again, leaned back in the chair, and added, “Yeah, clearly,” with the same detached tone, fueling the already smoldering flames of controversy. 

You weren't there to hear the smug remark firsthand, but it found you soon enough, as these things do. He doesn’t have to worry about that. 

“Oh, he said that? Really?” you muttered bitterly, your eyebrows knitting together in a mixture of frustration and disbelief. You couldn’t help the anger bubbling up. Not only had he made a snide comment, but he’d doubled down on it when a journalist baited him. He had to be joking. “Well, you know what? He should know how to fight without ending in the curb. He’s not a rookie anymore” 

And with that, the story exploded.  

The media ran with it, fuelling the narrative of a growing rivalry between you and Verstappen. Headlines, articles, social media—all of it revolved around your comment and Max’s subtle digs. The situation escalated when Red Bull’s team principal chimed in, defending Max and throwing more shade your way. His comment about "drivers needing to be aware of their surroundings" felt like another knife in the back. You couldn’t watch more than a few seconds before turning off the interview, letting the media team handle the backlash in your stead. 

At the peak of it all, as if on cue, a video is posted online, flooding every social media platform within hours. It was footage from a Grill the Grid challenge, recorded months ago, back when you were still settling into your Haas gear. You had guessed Max’s childhood photo in an instant, smiling softly as you held the picture up to the camera. 

“Max! That’s easy,” you had said, the smile lingering. “He’s always had such pretty eyes... I’ll give him that.” 

You never expected that line to make the final cut. They usually cut those videos down, especially with the newer drivers. But they ran with it —probably hoping for this exact reaction from their followers. 

Alongside it, Verstappen’s reaction to your photo also rises to the top of the searched videos. It is similar to yours, instantly guessing your name despite your hair being hidden underneath a woollen beanie, which would be the instant give away when compared to the rest of the men. Of course he recognized you, he’d been there when the photo was taken, back in the early karting days, probably messing around with his sister, Victoria, while waiting for his turn to race. 

It was one of the first few races you participated in, and although it was also one of the last ones Victoria raced in, you clicked pretty well. You might think it was a given for the only two girls in the sea of boys, but it was nice nonetheless. You often wished she had continued racing alongside you, sharing this difficult journey. Perhaps it would have been Victoria's printed photo in the stand. 

But Verstappen didn’t mention any of that. He just spends a moment longer than necessary looking at your picture, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

At the Dutch Grand Prix, the weight of the media storm becomes almost palpable. Every question during the weekend seemed to circle back to him. No matter how much you tried to redirect attention, the media kept poking, fishing for another soundbite. 

You manage to end the weekend unscathed. Verstappen had probably been advised, once again, to ignore the topic and avoid the snide comments. You are glad he is listening to them this time —not like the people in his team, but that’s another a whole different story. He has not even reacted to your remark last week, publicly that is, and kept his focus on the race all throughout the weekend. 

Well, it is easier to forget about the press when winning left and right. Even more so when he is bringing home such an important win, his home race’s trophy.  

Meanwhile, you trudged back to the Haas garage, yet another disappointing race under your belt. Your name getting comfortable hanging near the back of the grid, the sting of failure settling in. 

Emma, your PR minder, intercepted you on the way to the media pen. Her expression was strained as she handed you a tablet. “There’s a new video making the rounds” her voice cautious as she gave you the news. 

Your stomach clenches as the clip starts rolling. The shaky video captures some unseen footage from the day of the crash, probably filmed from the edge of the track. It shows you, huddled against a barrier, knees pulled tightly to your chest. Your helmet is off, and you're crying uncontrollably, shaking like a leaf caught in a storm. Marshals gather around, gently trying to lift you, but your body hangs limp, like a puppet whose strings have been cut, utterly broken. 

After several long seconds, the video cuts to your arrival at the garage, your face a mask of composure. The tears are gone, then. No trembling, no visible sign of the emotional breakout you just had. You simply walk in towards the screens of the pitwall, face blank. As if nothing had happened. 

Emma glances at you, trying to gauge your reaction.  

“So, what do we do?” your voice is slow, forced, as you blink away the tears. 

Emma’s voice drifts in and out of your mind as she tries to explain the plan for handling the press, but you can barely focus. All you want is to be done with this day—this race, this stress, this constant barrage of questions. Your mind is still reeling from the latest disastrous race, and now the video. 

“Just stick to the script, try to pivot the attention” she concludes, voice carefully neutral as she keeps a steady pace, moving you through the paddock with a hand in your back. 

“I just want to be done with this...” you whispered, your voice cracking. Your chest tightens as the video plays again in your mind, the rawness of it suffocating you. 

Emma gives you a sympathetic look, though there’s a hint of firmness in her tone. “I know. Let’s answer a couple question and we’ll be gone in no time, I promise” 

You nod absently, barely taking in her advice as you try to steady your breathing. 

The background hum of the paddock turns into a dull roar, your focus too scattered to notice it at first. It’s only when the noise grows louder—cheers and loud laughter—that you snap out of your thoughts, realizing the celebration has crept right up to you. 

You look up just in time to see a sea of dark blue pouring through the paddock. The Red Bull team, still riding the high of his victory, is coming down the main street. One of them tosses the trophy in the air with a triumphant whoop, cameras clicking wildly around them. You instinctively step aside, shrinking into yourself, hoping to stay out of sight. 

But then, as if drawn by some invisible thread, Verstappen’s locks onto yours. He takes a deep breath before he breaks away from the group, approaching you cautiously. 

“Hey,” he says, his voice tentative, unusually soft. “Can we talk for a second?” 

His approach catches you completely off guard. The last thing you need right now is this conversation —especially with him. The weight of the bad race, the stress, everything that’s gone wrong today. It’s too much. “Not now, Max,” you say, sharper than intended, trying to push past him. 

Max’s expression tightens, but he steps forward, his hand catching your arm gently but firmly, halting your escape. “Wait—just, hold on. I know things have been rough, but I wanted to check on—” 

You whip around, eyes immediately flicking from his hand on your arm to his face, complete and utter shock flashing through you before anger takes over. You see red, your pulse pounding in your ears, drowning out any attempt to understand what he’s trying to say. 

“What the hell, Max?” your voice is low but laced with fury, each word seething. “Do you really think now is the time? That this is what I need right now?” 

His grip loosens, his eyes widening as if he hadn’t expected your reaction, but you’re not even close to being done. 

“You’re keeping me out here again for what? So I can make a scene?” you gesture toward the photographers, already poised with their cameras trained on the two of you, eagerly awaiting the drama. Your words spill out, venomous but restrained. “To give them exactly what they’re hoping for—more shots of me losing it? Is that what you want, Max?”  

The look on his face is as if you’ve physically struck him. His mouth opens slightly, something akin to a “Sorry” slipping out of his lips. But the damage is already done.  

With a harsh breath, you yank your arm away and turn on your heel. You storm off, adrenaline surging through you, blurring the cameras, the people, the stares. Everything fades into a dull hum, swallowed by the chaos you’re desperately trying to escape. 

The media frenzy surrounding the crash had mostly died down by the time the United States Grand Prix rolled around. The headlines shifted, and the cameras no longer swarmed your every move. Maybe the world found a woman broken down and crying at the side of a track a less than interesting topic to critique. Ironically, the overexposure had granted you some much-needed breathing room. 

And in that quiet, you focused on what really mattered: the racing. 

It feels contradictory to reach the first milestone of your Formula One career on a circuit you have always despised. The Circuit of The Americas was a harsh, undulating track that challenged even the most seasoned drivers. Its aggressive turns and long straights had never been kind to you, a place where any minor mistake could leave you battling the car just to stay on track, let alone compete. The Texas heat didn’t help either, soaking into the tarmac and the air, making everything feel heavier, harder.  

Yet, despite your earlier misgivings, the track had offered you a chance to prove yourself. And this time, you seized it. 

Your car, against all odds, held up perfectly. The upgrades to the car, though minor, made it feel more responsive and alive beneath your hands. And the strategy calls had been spot-on. This time, everything clicked.  

When you crossed the finish line and scored your first points in Formula One, the emotion hit you like a wave. It was a small but monumental victory, a validation of your skill and perseverance in a place which often seemed like an insurmountable obstacle. 

The media circus, which had been a constant presence throughout the season, faded in the background. As if it had never been there. 

As you coasted back to the garage, your face locked in a smile that refused to fade, the team met you halfway, erupting into celebration. Cheers filled the air as they lifted you, waving the position board with "P10" scrawled beside your name as though you had taken a podium finish. Their joy wasn’t just about the result; it was about everything that led to that moment—your hard work, their dedication, and the culmination of a long, arduous season. 

The party continued in the garage, where the team gathered for photos and the popping of a small bottle of champagne that you were drenched in. The atmosphere was electric, filled with laughter, cheers, and a sense of collective pride. Hugs, handshakes, and nods of respect flowed not just from your own team but from drivers wandering in from their garages, their congratulations laced with a new-found respect. For you, it all was confirmation that you were here to stay. 

Amid the flurry of congratulations, you noticed Max approaching. His presence, initially unexpected, was met with mixed emotions. You had become accustomed to the tension between you, a simmering rivalry that played out both on and off the track. But today, was different. 

Max gave you a small, hesitant smile as he walked towards you. The usual competitive edge in his eyes softened. “Congratulations,” he said quietly, extending a hand. His tone sincere as a small chuckle slips off his lips “You really earned it.” 

In that moment, the weight of the day’s emotions, combined with the unexpected kindness from the rival, overwhelmed you. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as the events of the day hit you all at once. Without thinking, you step forward and wrap your arms around Max in a spontaneous hug. A gesture of relief and gratitude, expressing emotions that words couldn’t quite capture. 

Max seems taken aback by the embrace, but he returns it with a reassuring pat on your back. There’s a brief, shared moment—one filled with the weight of everything you’ve both endured this season. The conflicts, the tension... It all melts away in the hug, replaced by a silent acknowledgment of the challenges faced. It’s as if you both silently agree: whatever the future holds, you will handle it differently. You’ll treat each other better. 

With a final nod, Max turns and walks away, blending into the sea of people celebrating around you, leaving you to bask in the moment with your team. You wipe at your tears, laughter bubbling up as your team drags you back into the celebration. 

The Brazilian Grand Prix was always a spectacle of unpredictability, and this year was no different. The warm atmosphere at Interlagos crackled with anticipation and nerves, heightened by your surprising performance in qualifying. The car felt responsive, dialled in for the twists and turns of the circuit. 

This was the highest position you had achieved all season, and the weight of expectation mingled with excitement as you lined up on the grid. The lights overhead blinked to life, the engines roaring in unison and the adrenaline starting pumping though your body. 

Launching off the line, you navigated the opening corners with precision, maintaining position amidst the frenetic battles of the midfield. You kept focus, managing your tires well, everything clicking into place just enough to keep you in a high enough position. Things were finally working in your favour. 

The decision to pit early came as a calculated risk, a move to capitalize on the clear track and exploit the potential of fresh rubber. The pit crew executed flawlessly, the stop seamless in its precision. Emerging back onto the track, the new tires gripped the asphalt with renewed vigor, propelling you forward into the heart of the race. 

As expected, the field began to thin out with the inevitable cycle of pit stops not much later. With each passing lap, your focus sharpened, pushing harder to maximize the advantage. You found yourself gaining ground on the cars ahead, the gaps closing with every lap. 

A Red Bull appeared ahead, its familiar livery standing out against the asphalt. A crackle of static brought your race engineer's voice to life over the radio: "Verstappen ahead". His firm tone coupled with a tint of urgency, almost a warning. 

The Dutchman was struggling, clearly executing a different strategy while others succumbed to a change of tires. His car was losing grip with every corner, the acrid scent of burnt rubber lingering in the air as your opportunities of overtaking loomed closer and closer. 

Adrenaline surged through you as you moved forward. Max wasn’t your main rival today —he’d undoubtedly regain his pace after a pit stop, surging with a speed you couldn’t even hope to match. But you needed the few seconds you could grab on the nearly empty track. 

With pacience and a clean pass, you’d be on your way.

You line up your move. DRS wide open, your car gaining on his down the straight. It was a textbook overtaking maneuver: inside line into the braking zone, clean, fast, and decisive. But Max, being Max, wasn’t going to let anyone by without a fight.

He moves just enough to defend, squeezing you towards the inside of the track. Not illegal, but aggressive, forcing you to brake. Just a little.

Still, you hold your ground, refusing to back off as the story repeats itself –if only with a bit more space to move. 

There comes the corner. It’s tight, both of you pushing each other to the absolute limit. For a split second, you are wheel to wheel, you're car surging forward. And just when you think you’ve made it past, it happens.

A small touch, barely enough to register, but at these speeds, it is all it takes.

Your rear end twitches, your car snaps sideways, and before you can react, you’re spinning off the track. 

“No, no, no!” you shouted into the radio as the car slides off track and into the gravel, the engine dying and every warnings in the book flashing on the steering wheel. Race over.  

Yet again, your gaze locks on the Red Bull in the distance, but this time as it rolls out of your field of view. 

“Are you okay?” came the concerned voice from the pit wall. 

“Yeah,” you muttered, already climbing unfastening the harness, trying your best to push down the surge of frustration. Another DNF. Another race ruined. 

The walk back to the garage is a haze of exhaustion and anger. It all hits you at once. Not just the race, everything. The months of pressure, the crash, the constant questions, and now, this.

By the time you reach your driver’s room, you can only collapse into the sofa. Still in your race suit, helmet discarded. You eyes fix into a point in the wall, every second of the race over and over passing like a horror movie. Trapping you on it. 

A knock on the door breaks your thoughts after a while. You aren’t sure how long you’ve been sitting there. 

“Hey…” 

The voice is soft, almost hesitant, but unmistakable.  

You glance up through blurry vision, blinking in surprise when you confirm your suspicions. Max is standing there, awkwardly leaning in the doorway. He isn’t in his race suit anymore, dressed down in a hoodie and jeans, looking more like some random guy than the potential next world champion. Clearly, he had come after things had settled, hoping not to attract attention. 

The race must have ended already, the post-race conference too. You are glad to have finished your interviews before heading back to the garage. 

You sigh, too tired to even muster anger. “Max, it’s okay,” you say, the exhaustion seeping into your voice. “I don’t want to talk about it. You can go.” 

Max stands there for a second, as if weighing his options. You half-expect him to launch into some explanation, to try and defend what happened on track, but he doesn’t. He’s learned as much. Instead, he steps forward, quietly placing something on the table beside you —a small bag of candy. 

For a moment, you are confused, your mind too fogged to register the gesture. But suddenly, it clicks. Your mind flashes back to years ago, when you were both still clawing your way up the ranks. Max, already on his meteoric rise, and you, still fighting your way up. 

Victoria’s smile shines brightly in your memory. Her full cheeks and radiant aura would light up your day as she brought little treats to ease the tension when things went awry. It was normal, you would go toe to toe against the boys, some twice your size, both on and off the track without a care in the world.  

The competition was fierce, but so were you. 

You and Victoria would often find solace away from the prying eyes and relentless pressure, chatting about everything and nothing as you stuffed your mouth with gummies. Back then, those sweet candies were more than just a sugary distraction, they were a reminder of the warmth and encouragement that surrounded you amid the intense battle for the victory 

In those early days, Max had been more of a shadow on the periphery of your racing life. Your interactions with him were fleeting—brief greetings exchanged in the pit lane or terse words during on-track incidents. He was a quiet kid, focused on his future and nothing else. 

But as you look at the small bag of candy on the table, a new question surfaced in your mind. Had Max noticed those sweet moments with his sister? Seen your younger self as the laughter mingled with tears over those simple, yet comforting, treats? 

While the nostalgia washed over you, a sense of empathy began to emerge. Max’s gesture, though simple, carried a depth of understanding that you hadn’t anticipated. Now, here he is, all those years later, standing in your driver’s room after a crash and offering peace though candy. 

You take a deep breath, the tension of the harsh season and the DNF felt heavy, but his silent apology softened the edges of your frustration. If only a little. 

Without uttering a word, Max gives you a faint smile and quietly turns to leave.  

And for now, that is all you need. 

Months later, everything feels different, yet somehow familiar. The paddock is alive, roaring with the sounds of celebration, laughter, and the rush of an unforgettable season. The final race has come to an end and the highs and lows of the season hang in the air like the last whispers of a storm 

You find yourself moving through the chaos —staff, photographers, and fans all clamoring for a piece of the moment. Your heart swelling with pride as you saw the joy on his face, the weight of months of pressure and competition lifting as he basks in the victory. The World Champion. 

“Congrats, Lewis!” you shout, your voice barely cutting through the cacophony of cheers and fireworks exploding in the distance. He grins, pulling you into a hug. The cameras are snapping away but, for once, you don’t care. 

You step back, giving him a playful shove towards his team, watching as he disappears into the throng of engineers and mechanics. The confetti starts to fall, the air shimmering with silver and gold as fireworks burst above. Lewis collapses into his team, arms raised in victory, and it’s a scene you know will be replayed everywhere for years to come. 

The ending ceremony and final interviews come and go in a blur—everyone’s thoughts about the season, the excitement, and exhaustion all blending into one. The adrenaline is fading, leaving a strange, peaceful silence in its wake. 

Slipping away from the noise, you head back to your driver’s room. The door closes behind you, and for the first time in hours, the world is still. You peel off your race suit, changing into something more comfortable, savoring the moment of peace. Outside, the paddock slowly quiets as the celebration winds down, leaving behind only the hum of the circuit at rest. 

You decide to step out onto the pit lane one last time, onto the long shadows casted by the lights and the soft breeze that stirs the warms air of Abu Dhabi. Only a couple marshals and mechanics are still working and talking outside. The night is settling in, and you take a deep breath, taking it all in. 

That’s when you see Max. 

He’s standing near the edge of the pit lane, still in his race suit, though the top half hangs loose around his waist, leaving only the fireproofs underneath. His face is cast in a soft light, the tension of the race gone, but a lingering weight still present. He doesn’t notice you at first, his gaze somewhere far away, lost in thought. 

You hesitate, unsure if you should approach. The rivalry, the tension between you two—it’s all been part of the narrative this season. But something in the way he stands there alone, in the quiet aftermath of the race, pulls you forward. 

“Hey,” you say softly, breaking the silence. 

Max glances up, surprised to see you. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes —surprise, maybe relief? He gives a small nod. “Hey.” 

You shift awkwardly, leaning against the wall next to him. The weight of the season and everything that came with it lingers in the air. "I, uh… just wanted to say congrats," you finally manage, your voice tentative. 

Max raises an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “For what?” 

“You know, you're the—" you begin, though you don't get time to fully voice your thoughts.

“The first loser? Yeah”  

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Oh, shut up! I meant the runner-up,” you correct, giving him a light slap on the shoulder. 

“I guess.” He shrugs, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He looks out at the grandstands, his voice quieter now, the weight of the season clearly pressing on him. “Feels like the first loser to me.” 

“How could that ever be the first loser? I’m the first loser,” you quip, half-joking although the events of the season hang heavy on your mind “Got a couple of points and went home.” 

Max opens his mouth to correct you, but you quickly shoot him a look —one that says, see?— daring him to argue. He catches your meaning and closes his mouth again, letting out a soft sigh instead, though his eyes shows that he disagrees. 

A beat of silence passes before you speak again, quieter this time. “I know one day you’re going to win so much, you’ll get bored of it.” 

Max looks down, his expression hard to read. There’s no smirk, no witty comeback. Just a silence that stretches between you. He kicks at a pebble on the ground, then after a while, glances back up. 

“Know anything about next year?” he asks, his voice low. Despite all the rumours swirling around the paddock, no one really knows what's going to happen with the Haas lineup. Contracts hang in limbo, as do the futures of several drivers.  

"Yeah, Mick’s out…” you sigh, looking down at your feet “and I’m probably next." 

Max shakes his head almost immediately, a frown forming on his face “I don’t think so, you did well this year.” 

“Yeah, well… at the back of the grid,” you reply, the words slipping out with a bitter edge. 

He looks at you seriously “You have to know what car you have. You did more than enough this year, got your first points, even. Nobody expected that.” 

You huff out a small laugh, but there's no real joy in it. "I'm a headache, Max. You’ve all seen that. I have to know what team I'm in, they can’t risk it" you repeat his words back at him, eyebrows knitted in discomfort. 

Max goes quiet, his gaze fixed on the ground in front of him. The weight of your uncertainty seems to settle between you, an invisible burden neither of you can shake off easily. After a beat, the Red Bull driver stands upright, and silently invite you to walk back to the garages with a tilt of his head. 

“So, are you going to Lewis' party?” 

You hesitate, unsure.

“I don’t know yet,” you admit. While part of you wants to go and live what could be your last moments in this bubble, another part just wants to finally hide from the noise that’s been suffocating you all season.  

You clearly have not gotten used to this, and now you probably won’t ever. 

Reaching the door to his garage, Max studies you for a moment as he leans on the wall, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Well, if you feel like it, you should come to the first loser’s party.” 

You blink, caught off guard, a grin creeping into your face despite yourself.

“Again with the first loser?" you shake your head, Max simply shrugs.

He shrugs, the faint glint in his eyes reflecting the lights of the pit lane. “Well, not everyone can be the winner.” His voice is gentler now, expecting your exasperated sigh, and he smirks “At least, I’ve got pretty eyes.” 

“Oh, please,” you scoff, though a smile manages to break through as you give a light shove to his shoulder. That video was clearly a bad idea, he doesn't need his ego any more boosted “You’re such an asshole.” 

Max doesn’t flinch, his smirk growing wider. His gaze lingers on you for a beat longer than necessary, and in that quiet moment, the circuit seemed to fall even more silent, as though the world around you both stilled.  

And, before you can think twice about it, you whisper the words “But yeah, you sure do”. 

Part 2 (final): First Winners | MV33

Author's note: this has been in my drafts for ages, didn't even have a title, just stupid to lovers so I guess that explains a lot. This idea was also supposed to be part of If I lose my mind but I just had to many things in my head. Hope you liked it, its my first time writing for Max so that's that.

Thanks a lot for reading! And, as always, any kind of interaction is greatly apreciated.

[cherubcameron]

Part one

Rafe had been calling you extensively. To the point, where you had to have do not disturb on. You didn’t have it in you yet to block him. You forgot he also knew where you lived.

“You know we could have done this the easy way. Now we’re going to have to do the hard way.” He said, once you opened the door. You didn’t even have time to run, he had grabbed you forcefully. You screamed.

“Shhh, baby shh.”

You knew he had erratic behavior. He just hadn’t ever displayed it before to you.

“Rafe! Rafe! Put me down!”

“Rafe, dude. Come on, is this really necessary?”Topper says, watching his friend manhandle you.

“Shut the fuck up, Top!” Rafe says. “Help me get her in the car.”

“No! Get off!” You scream, you’re scratching at his arms and he winces in pain.

“Ow! Stop that!”

You manage to pull away from his strong hold.

“Enough Rafe, you can’t force me to go anywhere with you. This counts as kidnapping, ya know!”

He tries to grab you again but Topper gets inbetween.

“Do you really want to get in my way, Topper?” Rafe says, his eyes are on you though.

“Dude, this is not the way. You told me we came here so you could talk to her. Not force her to go somewhere against her will.”

Rafe begins to cry as he sees you flinch back. He doesn’t even care that Topper can see.

“Let her go, dude.” Topper says gently. You never would have guessed, Topper to be the voice of reason. But here he was.

“No! Fuck you, Topper. Please baby, please! I promise. I promise I’ll get clean. I haven’t even touched coke in weeks. Tell her Top. Tell her!”

You can tell he’s lying through his teeth. His jaw is swinging. And he keeps wiping away at his nose. His eyes are red from the tears.

“Baby, please.”

“I’m not your baby anymore.” You finally say.

“No.” He cries. “No don’t say shit like that. You’re breaking my heart baby. I fucked up, I know that. But you don’t have to punish me for it. Please. The coke will go away. The parties. I’ll change my lifestyle. I’ll be different.” He pauses. “I’ll be a different Rafe. Clean Rafe. Good Rafe. Country club Rafe. No drugs. No alcohol.”

He’s hitting his head with his hand as he says each word. A part of you aches to go to him to make him stop.

But you can tell he’s bluffing. You know he’ll do it sneakily.

“Rafe, you don’t know how to. That is your life. Until you’re serious—.” You try to speak but he cuts you off abruptly.

“I am serious! Tell her Topper. Fucking tell her! I stopped it all.”

You begin to cry, scared of the boy you’re looking at. Scared of whose he’s become. This wasn’t your Rafe.

“Come on, man. You’re scaring her. Let’s just go, okay—“

“Shut up Topper! Why can’t you shut up! You’re not helping me!”

He finally manages to get around Topper. His arms are around you again, he hiccups from the tears he’s crying.

“Princess, please. I’ll do anything. I’ll get on my knees. Please, don’t leave me. I love you. I love you.”

Kelce shows up out of nowhere. You don’t even realized he’s pulled up.

“That’s enough Rafe. Come on man. Let her be.” Both boys grab Rafe, freeing you from his grip.

“No! Please, no! I need her! I fucking need her.”

Grim faces are present on both boys faces.

“We know man. Just come on.”

Once they get him away, you crumble to the ground. Sobs breaking out of you.

“Hey! Is everything okay? We heard screaming.” Your old elderly neighbor asks. She’s a sweet old lady, who gardens when she can. You’ve helped her out a few times.

“Why don’t you come in. I’ve made some pie. I think you’ll like it.”

You manage to get up and follow her in. She gives you a sad smile.

“I’m sorry for the screaming.” You say meekly.

“Don’t ever apologize for another persons actions. Especially not a boy who doesn’t know when no means no. You’re so much stronger than that. I know it. I’ve known you since you were four. You’ve always been a fierce girl. Don’t ever let anyone take that away from you.” Her hand is on your shoulder. Gentle. Unlike Rafes iron clad grip. You almost burst out crying again.

“Come on, let’s enjoy some pie.”

[hargreeves-duncan]

Can I request five x reader (takes place in s2) where reader (five’s partner) gets sent to Dallas around a year before five comes and after he does and reader sees him, she immediately tackles him on the spot and gives him many kisses. Maybe reader manages to work at a casino too

a/n: hi, thank you so much for your request! i haven’t written in a while so i'd love to hear your thoughts, enjoy!!

summary: it's been far too long since you've seen your boyfriend - he learns that the affectionate way.

warnings: reader works at a casino but there’s no actual gambling so🤷‍♀️

word count: 1.4k

You had to hand it to yourself, for someone who’d known next to nothing about life in the 1960s, you’d adapted pretty well. In no time at all, you’d managed to land yourself a job as a waitress in a casino. A very good one. It seemed in this timeline, Jack Ruby thought a casino would be a better investment than a night club - and for your part, you couldn’t say that he was wrong, nor could you complain.

The hours were long, but the pay was good enough and the other girls had taken you in as one of their own. You quickly began to excel. Strolling between the tables and flashing smiles was easy, second nature even. You developed the wit and charisma to charm the casino’s patrons without second thought, which meant you got more drinks served, more loyal customers and bigger tips to go along with them. 

Most nights the new life you’d built for yourself was more than enough but sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but yearn for what had come before - who had come before.

There was always a dull ache in your chest whenever you caught a fleeting glimpse of a lone, brown-haired man at one of the tables. In those moments, you could never stop yourself from believing for a slither of a second that Five had made it and he’d come right back to you.

You’d waited for him in that dingy, old alley for two weeks straight, because you knew that Five would never abandon his family like that. That something must’ve gone wrong, but it was okay because he’d come back and everything would be fine. That was what you told yourself. You were so sure he’d show up and solve everything in an instant, because that was what he always did. And when he hadn’t, it had almost destroyed you.

The first few months were gruelling, taking your first steps in the new world had taken a while. Grieving Five had taken longer. The obvious truth was staring you in the face. A year without contact from him or any of the other Hargreeves siblings? The probability was that you were the only one who had survived.

It was a truth that you were reluctant to admit, even now. One that led you to where you are today, starting yet another night shift, beside the casino’s bar, to serve a particularly rowdy Friday night crowd of patrons.

As you begin to set up, Mary-Anne, one of the other waitresses on shift, sidles up to you. Her honey-blonde curls bouncing around her ears as she leans against the bar. Trying to stifle her laugh, in her southern drawl, she says, “Has he tried talking to you yet?”

You raise an eyebrow at her, tilting your head to the side, “Has who tried talking to me yet?”

Her grin grows wider as she gestures to a table on the far corner of the room, laughing, “That little boy. Haven’t I said a million times that we oughta get tighter on the security in this place?”

She sighs, resting her hands on her hips, “I went over to him - trying to tell him that we don’t allow minors in here - and what’d he do?”

Deciding to humour her, you smile, looking down at her, “I’ve got no idea, tell me.”

She scoffs, shaking her head as she smiles, “He told me that he more than knew his way around place a place like this and that I had nothing to worry about with him. Can you imagine having the nerve like that at his age?”

The thought made you laugh. It reminded you of Five. His haggard temper in the body of his younger self always seemed to shock people in the very same way. You paused. It couldn’t be him, couldn’t it? You must be jumping to conclusions. After all this time, it’d make no sense if he was here now and yet…

“He said that?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing as you glance between the table and Mary-Anne. You squint, trying to see if you could recognise him.

A part of you felt silly and girlish for still holding out hope but this kid’s description was just too similar and besides, you were a teenager again, you were allowed to be lovesick and entirely delusional. It was practically your god-given right.

Mary-Anne nodded, loading her tray up with drinks of all shapes and sizes to cover her half of the room, “He did.”

Your eyes were locked onto the distant table, practically pleading for the kid to just turn around and let your hopes down already. Still, all that greeted you was the back of his head and the green fuzz of the poker table in front of him.

When you didn’t tear your eyes away, Mary-Anne looked you up and down, her baby blue eyes swimming with concern, “You alright there?”

Looking back at her, you sigh, already pent up at the possibility of Five being so close, “Yeah, I just… What did he look like?” You ask tentatively, biting your rouge-tinted, bottom lip between your teeth.

Mary-Anne hums in thought as she loads your tray for you, “Gosh, I don’t know - he had dark hair, was wearing a suit. It had the funniest, little emblem on it.” She says, tapping her chest in place of where it would’ve been.

Your eyes widen in shock and excitement as you process her words, “An umbrella! It was an umbrella, wasn’t it?”

Mary-Anne grins, giggling, “It was… how’d you know that?”

You couldn’t even answer her. You were already starting to tremble and hyperventilate, entirely overcome with nerves and joy and pure, unbridled excitement all at once. A year of being apart and now he was no more than a few strides away. Your smile brightens up like no other.

You slip your tray from over your head and place it down on the bar as you say, “Hey, cover for me, would you? I’ll be two seconds.”

Without waiting for her answer, you dash across the room - a flurry of giddiness bubbling up inside of you the closer you get. You tousle your hair and straighten your uniform, anything to keep your anxious fingers busy and to better yourself for something you’ve waited for for far too long.

Hearing heels coming towards him again, Five sighs in frustration and turns around in his chair, “Lady, I already told you-“

The breath feels like it’s been stolen from your throat as he turns to face you. It’s really, truly him. Your boyfriend is right there in front of you and you’ve never felt more relief than in this moment.

“Y/N.”

You’re not sure if you want to cry or scream or simply just take him in for the first time all over again. As you look over him, his piercing gaze, his dark hair and the freckle on his right cheek that you can’t count the number of times you’ve kissed, your eyes can’t help but be drawn to his lips.

God, how you’ve missed the feeling of them. You barely have time to think about what you’re doing before you’re cupping his face and pressing your lips against his once more, savouring every part of him in a way you’d never thought to before.

Your hands trail over every callous in his skin, memorising him with your fingertips, and as you pull back, Five’s gaze softens like nothing else as he smirks, “Hello, you.”

His hands reach out to cup your face, gazing over you as if he’s not entirely sure that you’re real. After all your time apart, you’re not sure either. You smile, nodding, “It’s me. It’s you. You’re here, you’re really here!”

You cup his face in return and you can’t help but press another kiss to his lips. He smiles fondly as you do. And so you kiss him again… and again on his cheek… and on his freckle… his chin… his forehead. Everywhere your lips can reach, you press them.

After a moment, he laughs weakly and reaches up to pull your hands away from his face and intertwines them with his own fingers instead, “Okay, love.” He says chasteningly, “Let’s calm down there, shall we?”

Your smile grows shyer as you right yourself, “Sorry.” You say, brushing your hair away from your face.

He shakes his head, brushing your hair back for you and then guiding you by the waist to the seat beside him, “No, don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry. Believe me, I’m just as happy to see you. Really.”

It’s him who initiates the kiss this time. He’s soft, delicate almost, in the way that he kisses you, as if each movement of his lips is a new way of giving all of his love to you and promising that he won’t ever let you out of his sights again.

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 1

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

Chapter warnings: A lot of mood and scene setting—just vibe with it, MC is in her sad girl era, hints of depression and anxiety, masturbation, Yoongi is a new dad y’all he is tireddd af

Word count: almost 6k

Posting date: November 12, 2024

Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕🫶🏼

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Masterlist

Namjoon leans back in his seat, sporting an all-too-familiar, slightly conspiratorial glint in his eyes. Hmm. You know that look. 

It's the same one he had when he "casually" set you up to tutor one of his trainee friends in English—the one you let slip was kinda cute. Or when he signed you up to perform with one of his rapper friends in that underground club in Hongdae. Sure, you knew every word of the chorus to eminem’s Stan, but you were not a fucking singer. 

You still did it, though. Both times. 

Namjoon’s especially notorious for volunteering you to do things he insists are "right up your alley." There’s a fire in his eyes when he starts talking about one of his ideas, and before you know it, you're swept up in his vision, already picturing yourself right there beside him, doing something you’d never consider on your own.

Namjoon has been your best friend since forever and for reasons you can’t explain, saying no to him has always been impossible.

Right. It’s definitely that. It’s definitely not because in those two prior instances mentioned, both friends of his are actually the same guy. The one you had an almost crippling crush on over a decade ago. (You’re sooo over it, though. Trust.)

When Namjoon leaned in, you were already bracing yourself.

“So, you know Yoongi, right?”

You blink, pause, and slowly shake your head. It has taken years, but today is the day you tell him, “No.”

“The fuck? What do you mean no?” He replies, already looking hella amused. “I haven’t even said anything.”

Your face feels like a furnace, but you grit and steady your voice. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

He lets out a hum, shifting in his seat, and you get the sense he’s working up to something. 

You sip your coffee, keeping your eyes on him. He gives you an exaggerated shrug, dimples deepening as he lets his shoulder sag. 

God you’re literally already about to break. 

“Fuck. Joon. Spit it out.”

He nods triumphantly, “Ok, there’s something I thought I’d run by you first, before he hears about it.”

The words hang in the air, and you raise an eyebrow. “Joon. What are you getting me into?”

Namjoon chuckles softly as he folds his hands on the table. “So… Yoongi has a son. A baby, actually.” He pauses, watching for your reaction. 

Woah. Someone has fuckboi Min Yoongi all locked down?! Huh. You never saw that coming.

You let that sink in, surprise filling the quiet space between you. “I… didn’t know he had a kid.”

“Not many people do,” Namjoon admits. “Only those close to him know. Yoongi’s a great dad, but his caretaker recently left, and now he’s scrambling to balance his schedule and take care of his son.”

“And his wife?”

Namjoon sighs, gives you a look that means he’s about to say something confidential. “There’s no wife.”

“Baby mama?”

“Out of the picture.”

You let out a small breath, absorbing everything you just heard. You already had an idea of where this is leading up to, but you want it said explicitly. “So what exactly are you asking me?”

Namjoon nods, eyes hopeful. “Look, I know this is a big ask. I’m putting this out there because you’re one of the best with kids I know. And Yoongi—well, he’s pretty wary about letting new people get close to his son.”

You take another sip of your latte as he prattles on.

“While you’re still getting your bearings back, maybe you could take over the caretaker job, even part time?” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly as he says your name. “I just thought you might consider it. You’d be doing us both a favor. Yoongi really needs help, and I’d trust you more than anyone with this.”

You sit back, letting Namjoon’s words settle. Namjoon knows exactly what he’s asking—knows exactly how hard it is for you to refuse when he gives you that puppy dog look, especially when he’s throwing Yoongi into the mix. Honestly, you hate how you're apparently still soft for him even after all these years.

Namjoon also knows your current situation. Does he not realize it’s a bit unfair to ask this of you right now? Not when you're still picking up the pieces after your breakup with your long-term boyfriend. Not when you need time to heal. Not when you literally uprooted your life and just moved back to Seoul a month ago.

But somehow, you can’t shake the curiosity. What would it even be like to see Yoongi as a dad? To get a glimpse of this whole other life he’s got now?

It’s probably a terrible idea. 

Yeah, no. You don’t need this right now. Money isn’t tight. And you need to focus on… 

You take a slow breath, mentally tracing the edges of this mess. There are a hundred reasons to say no, and only one reason you’d even consider saying yes. And because it’s for Yoongi… damn, maybe that’s reason enough.

The next time you see Yoongi, it’s at HYBE’s massive rehearsal space. Namjoon had invited you to watch the group practice—innocent enough, though you know it’s also his way of nudging you toward the job. Joon thinks he’s subtle, but you know his plans are, more often than not, clunky as hell.

You settle in one corner, holding on to your half-finished iced Americano. A few staff are scattered around the studio, there was another girl (maybe a member’s girlfriend, you’re not sure), but it’s mostly empty. The boys are warming up, stretching or chatting, and you wave to Jungkook and Taehyung before finding yourself glancing toward Yoongi.

Wearing an all black outfit and a baseball cap, he’s standing off to the side, arms full with a fussy baby, and a bassinet stroller in front of him. The boy can’t be more than a few months shy of his first birthday. He’s close to tears, twisting and squirming, while Yoongi, visibly flustered, tries to hand him a toy, then a bottle, then anything he can find. Nothing works. Soon, the baby’s fuss turns into a full-on tantrum.

Oh, damn. Poor Yoongi. 

He drops the bottle, spilling milk across the floor just as the stroller, half-locked, rolls a few feet away. He lunges for it, fumbling as the baby’s wailing intensifies, tiny fists flailing in frustration. Yoongi’s eyes dart around, panicked, while a couple of female staff start toward him, hands outstretched. But he waves them off, his face set in a mix of fierce determination and mild desperation as he rocks and hushes the baby.

It honestly hurts to watch the scene unfold. You almost want to do something.

Namjoon starts clearing people out, Jimin dims the studio lights, and Seokjin picks up the spilled bottle, wiping down the floor. Hobi taps a white noise track on his phone, placing it near the stroller. Your heart warms at how effortlessly everyone pitches in, their movements so practiced it’s obvious they’ve done this before. But it makes you wonder just how many rehearsals have paused for these moments. It’s probably why Namjoon wants to help find a solution, a.k.a you.

You meet your best friend’s gaze and he cocks his head toward the door, signaling for you to file out with the others, but your feet take you somewhere else entirely.

“Is he okay?” you ask, approaching Yoongi.

Yoongi doesn’t hear you at first, too focused on calming his son. His face is etched with exhaustion and something fragile, an uncharacteristic crack in his calm. He finally glances up, half-exasperated. To your mild relief, a look of recognition crosses his face, before he replies, “Yeah, he’s—he’s usually not this fussy.”

You watch him struggle for a bit, then, before you can second-guess, you step forward. “Do you mind if I try?”

Yoongi hesitates, studying you like he’s weighing the decision to trust you with his son. His eyes flick towards Namjoon who was standing by the door, before it goes back to you. After a tense pause, he nods, handing the baby over.

You hold the little boy, shifting him gently away from the mirrors and bright lights, rocking him slowly and humming an old lullaby you used to sing for your preschoolers. Gradually, his cries quiet down, his tiny head resting against your shoulder as he begins to relax, fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt. Within minutes, he’s fast asleep.

When you glance up, Yoongi is watching, his face unreadable. There’s relief, yes, but also a quiet wonder, an almost surprised gratitude. 

“I owe you,” he murmurs, a softness in his voice you hadn’t expected.

“‘S ok,” you say, quietly, careful not to wake the baby.

The two of you stand there, his eyes on you for just a beat too long, and if you didn’t have the baby to ground you, you feel like you just might float.

“Thank you,” he says, tone soft and sincere.

From across the room, Namjoon watches, his eyes mirroring the same gratitude.

The call from Yoongi comes unexpectedly one evening, just after dinner. You don’t recognize the number, then again you don’t have a lot of +82s yet since you just moved back after many years of being in the States. The last thing you expect is to hear Yoongi’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Hey, it’s…Min Yoongi,” he starts, voice a little rough.

“Oh, hi.”

There’s a short silence, and then he clears his throat. “Namjoonie mentioned you uh might… be interested in helping with my son.”

You feel a strange flutter, both at the fact that Yoongi is talking to you, and at the fact that he’s asking something so personal. “Uh, yeah. I can help out.”

The pause is long enough that you imagine him somewhere, shifting uncomfortably. “I know it’s a lot to ask,” he finally says, sounding almost apologetic. “I don’t want to… impose or anything. But it would help. A lot.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you,” You hear Yoongi release a sigh of relief. Then he says the next phrase in a rush, “I know you are overqualified for this, so uh please let me compensate you with your salary as a teacher in America.”

You feel your face flush. Thank god this was not a video call. Seems you’re as uncomfortable as he is talking about money, though it is a necessary evil. “Oh, no, please Yoongi. You don’t have to. Joonie’s my bestfriend and you’re his brother. I can just help until you can find a more permanent solution.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t argue with you on this. You hear a puff of breath before he says. “Alright. Thank you.”

And just like that, you’re set. He gives you the address, and you’re left wondering for the rest of the night how you’ll manage this strange new gig.

The first day you arrive at Yoongi’s apartment in Hannam-dong, you’re a bundle of nerves, unsure what to expect. 

After you ring the bell, the door opens to reveal Yoongi with his usual reserved expression, a piece of muslin cloth draped on one shoulder.

“Hi,” he says simply, stepping aside to let you in.

You offer him a smile. “Hey.”

He closes the door behind you as you step inside. You look around, taking everything in.

The apartment is spacious but cozy, with a warmth that speaks of careful design—minimalistic furniture in muted colors, shelves lined with books and vinyl records, a few baby toys strewn around the living room. Homey.

This is the first time you get to really see Yoongi. The brief encounter at the rehearsal studio didn’t afford you the chance to appreciate how time has treated him. 

Seeing him after six years, he’s both the same and somehow different. He has always had that calm confidence—a steady, grounded energy that feels both nostalgic and new. His usually colorful hair, now in its natural hue, casually frames his face. He wears a simple white tee and you can tell the noodle arms are gone. His shoulders are much broader, arms stronger than how you remember him. The silver earrings are still there, subtle reminders of his edginess, softened by time.

But beneath it all, there’s a layer of, hmm… exhaustion, you guess? A shadow under his eyes, faint lines hinting at the weight of sleepless nights. His lips are chapped, there’s a tiny red bump on his chin. He’s a new dad, he hasn’t prioritized himself for a while. Still, his face carries a tenderness in the fatigue, like he’s tired, but happy.

“He’s napping right now,” Yoongi clears his throat, motioning toward a small crib by the window, where his son is sleeping peacefully, bundled in soft blankets. 

“You haven’t told me his name.”

“Haneul.”

“That’s beautiful,” you reply, and Yoongi nods, almost shy.

He hesitates, glancing down as if gathering his thoughts. Then he says your name. “I… um, I didn’t know how this would go. His last caretaker was actually my aunt, but she got sick and had to go back home.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that.”

He nods, “But after seeing how he calmed down with you… I think he’ll be alright.”

He gives you a tour of his apartment, the baby monitor clipped in his jean pocket. His place is modern, spacious, baby-proofed. There are pictures that line the walls of the hallway linking the nursery, his studio, guest room, guest bath, and the masters.

You spend some time going through Haneul’s things—familiarizing yourself with the layout of the nursery. He shows you where the baby food and snacks are. Talks about his favorite toys and activities. 

While he downloads the 101 on Haneul, the one thing you were curious to know was, where is his birth mom? You obviously don’t want to be a prick so you swallow the question down. Maybe you’ll find out in the future. But for now, you just need to know where the baby wipes are.

For the first few days that you come over, Yoongi keeps close, hovering just within earshot as you ease into the cadence of his son’s needs. He’s there with his arms folded, watching as you handle Haneul, a cautious yet respectful distance. You get it though. You’re a virtual stranger he just let into his home and his son’s life. Who wouldn’t be guarded?

You quickly notice that Haneul has a sweet temperament, but has a bit of a sensitive side. He doesn’t take to loud sounds, so you keep your voice low and movements gentle, singing him lullabies and nursery rhymes under your breath while Yoongi quietly observes, even if he pretends to be engrossed with something else.

On your third day, Yoongi has to leave to attend an important meeting at HYBE. He’s been pacing by the door, making sure his son is settled before he goes, even though you’re right there, holding the baby with practiced ease.

“Are you sure you’re… good with this?” he asks, his brow furrowed, as if still convincing himself to leave.

You give him a reassuring smile. “Go. I got him. He’ll be fine.”

He hesitates one last time, eyes fixed on you, and then he finally gives a small nod. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.”

As soon as the door closes, you’re left with the quiet hum of the apartment and a very awake, very curious baby in your arms. You spend the next hour rocking him and singing songs, amazed at how easily he settles, almost as if he’s known you longer than a few days.

After his nap, you take a video of the babbling Haneul enjoying his yogurt gems and send it to Yoongi. He replies almost immediately with a smiley emoji and a curt: cute.

Yoongi returns around dinnertime right as you’ve settled the baby down in his bed. He steps inside the nursery quietly, watching as you tuck the blanket around his son. When you look up, he’s standing there, holding two cups of steaming liquid.

“I, uh… thought you might want some tea,” he says, looking slightly awkward but endearing.

“Always.” You take the mug with a grateful smile. “How was your meeting?”

“Could’ve been an email,” He shrugs and stuffs the empty hand inside his pocket.

You grin as you take a sip, remembering how you’ve always enjoyed his dry sense of humor, in the rare occasions you hung out in the past. Ooh, this tea is… your favorite.

“Silver moon?” you asked.

He nodded, “There’s a TWG shop that just opened near the office. Namjoonie might have mentioned it was your favorite, so.”

Your ears warm up just as well as your throat as you savor another drink.

“How was Haneul? Did he give you a hard time?”

“Not at all,” you shake your head, looking over to the little angel. “I’ve had a lot of practice, you know.”

“I can’t imagine handling a whole classroom full of them,” he says, looking at you with a mix of admiration and amusement. “One’s hard enough.”

“You’re lucky to have him,” you reply wistfully, suddenly feeling a tug at your heartstrings. ‘What I would give…’ you almost utter out loud.

The thing is, you actually do, without realizing it. Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi files the thought away, a subject he might bring up one day—when the time comes that he thinks you trust him, too.

The days blur into a steady rhythm. You arrive in some afternoons, not really everyday, only when Yoongi needs the extra hand at home or if he needs to leave the house for a day of rehearsals. You both establish that this is merely a favor so he doesn’t treat you like you’re at his every beck and call. Usually it starts with a short message in Kakao, and if you’re free, he would send a car to pick you up. Your meals are always ready, delivered on the dot. Conveniences are always within your reach—your favorite tea, extra clothes in case there are food or poop blow-outs, etc. The cleaning lady that goes thrice a week, Mrs. Kwon sometimes keeps you company and assists you with anything.

As you help take care of his baby, you feel that he’s looked out for you, too. Which is nice.

On days that he is working from home, Yoongi brings his work into the living room, just to be nearby during playtime with you and Haneul. 

One evening, when his son falls asleep in your arms after a particularly fussy day, Yoongi glances up from his laptop and leans back in his chair, a tired but grateful smile breaking through.

“He’s really taken to you,” he observes, sounding almost as if he’s admitting it to himself.

You smile, feeling a strange warmth at his words. “I think he’s just a really sweet kid, Yoongi. He’s easy to love.”

The smile he gives you after that is probably the gummiest one you’ve ever seen. 

A few weeks pass, and a subtle partnership has started forming between you, like you’re both slowly finding a rhythm in the chaos of caring for Haneul.

Bath time becomes a kind of unspoken relay: you gather the towel and clothes, while Yoongi preps the tub, testing the water with careful fingers. There’s a brief exchange of glances—no need for words, just a nod as you pass off Haneul, who’s already giggling happily.

Snack time turns into a ritualized watch party. You set out the applesauce and crackers for Haneul, and Yoongi brings a bag of chips and his laptop over to the living room, joining you and Haneul for yet another episode of Miss Rachel. Occasionally, he’ll mutter a sarcastic comment under his breath, trying (and failing) to disguise the fact that he’s memorized the songs, too. (And in English, no less!)

There was one particular afternoon that you walk in on the father and son having a heartwarming exchange.

Haneul, who’s wobbling on his unsteady little legs, is reaching eagerly for a stuffed tiger Yoongi is holding just out of reach.

“Oh, no, no, no—you gotta work for this,” Yoongi teases, eyebrows raised dramatically. He moves the tiger side to side, adding a low, exaggerated growl that makes Haneul squeal with laughter. Yoongi leans fully into the act, growling and making faces, finally swooping Haneul up with a playful roar, both of them dissolving into laughter.

You can’t help but laugh along with them, your heart catching slightly at the sight. The way his eyes crinkle in genuine amusement, his mouth relaxed into a wide gummy grin. And you’re startled by how… soft he looks, how fucking attractive he is when he’s like this. When his usual quiet intensity is replaced by this playfulness, by this open warmth. It hits you somewhere deep, a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest that you can’t quite ignore.

Yoongi catches you watching, his smile faltering for a moment, but he holds your gaze. His expression shifts, something curious reflecting in his eyes as if he’s wondering what you’re thinking, but he doesn’t ask. Instead, he swallows a lump in his throat, cheeks dusting a faint pink as he looks down, bashful.

You force yourself to glance away, feeling warmth creep up your neck. For the first time, you’re struck by an awareness of him that wasn’t there before, and it lingers, even as you turn back to whatever it was you were supposed to be doing. The image of his smile, his laughter—it all stays with you, stirring something you can’t quite put a name to.

And just like that, you’re settling into this role in the life of the Min men—something you know is temporary, but is infinitely meaningful.

When you’re not in Yoongi’s apartment, your own place feels strangely foreign.

God, you hate it here. You can’t even bring yourself to call it home—it’s just a room with white walls, half-opened moving boxes, a stack of unread books Joonie gave you, a mattress on the floor, and a fridge with a single egg. It’s quiet. Too quiet. You could fix the place up—it’s not like you can’t afford a bed frame or groceries—but for some reason, you’re punishing yourself. Like this is the way someone like you—unwanted and rejected—ought to live.

Nothing in this flat tethers you to it, and maybe that’s why you prefer being out.

You’re afraid your heart is stuck somewhere in limbo, somewhere between Seoul and LA. Maybe it’s still floating above the clouds on that flight back. You don’t know when it’ll come down, but you hope it’s soon.

Tonight, you’re restless, tossing and turning in your makeshift bed, replaying fragments of your old life—a love that once felt solid, a future that had once felt certain. Your mind drifts to those last conversations with Jiyong, your ex, the ones where he shut down every hope you had for a family, making you wonder if wanting more was somehow wrong.

You probably deserve it, though. You want a family, but you can barely cook for yourself. What do you hope to feed a child—takeout? Junk food? It’s laughable. You can’t even make a home feel like one. Jiyong probably got tired of you because you’re useless at it.

Stop. You close your eyes, focus on your breathing, try to still your mind. 1, 2, 3…

Some nights, you especially hate yourself. Tonight is one of them.

You need to call Namjoon. He can usually talk you down, ease the self-loathing. You ring him three times, but each time, you get his voicemail. Fuck. Maybe he’s out, maybe he’s getting laid. Good for him, honestly.

But that might actually work. You rummage through one of your boxes and find the one purple bullet that’s gotten you through plenty of spirals. With a flick, the vibrator buzzes to life, and you slip it beneath your panties, pressing it right against your clit. You’re not in the mood to drag this out—you want release, quick and easy, something to take the edge off.

At first, your limbs relax as that familiar tingle begins, little sparks shooting from your core, teasing you with hints of pleasure. You keep at it, determined, but after a few minutes, the sensations stall. It’s like your body’s stuck, lingering on the edge without tipping over, leaving you stranded and more frustrated than when you started. You decide to cut your losses.

Maybe a shower. Maybe you can pop by the GS25 down the block for a bottle of soju.

But then your phone pings. It’s Yoongi.

Your tummy suddenly feels funny.

You immediately swipe up and read the string of messages that has popped on your Kakao.

Yoongi: Hey so I found this in Haneul’s crib Yoongi: image.jpg  Yoongi: u got this for him? he is lowkey obsessed. Yoongi: But WTF is it? 

You cackle. Loud and hearty. A sound you didn’t think you were capable of on a shitty night like this.

You: A capybara! Look it up! Yoongi: Oh Yoongi: never heard of it You: They’re cute Yoongi: ? You: Don't be mean You: Haneul and I love bora Yoongi: ?? You: thats her name Yoongi: noted

That night, the Kakao thread becomes your lifeline. Yoongi asks about your next visit, what you had for dinner, and when you say goodnight he sends back a grainy selca of him and a sleeping Haneul with Bora. The photo brings unexpected joy, something to remind you that you aren’t as alone as it sometimes feels. Finally, you succumb to slumber, clutching your phone to your chest, thoughts of Yoongi and Haneul floating in your dreams.

After that, you become more and more aware that Yoongi’s place has become a sanctuary. There’s Haneul’s bright laughter, the way his tiny fingers curl around yours, and the sound of Yoongi’s soft, steady voice, creating a background that somehow starts to feel comforting. With them, you’re too busy to dwell on the past or the ache left behind by someone else’s rejection. Instead, you’re present, stable.

And it’s in those moments—when you’re reading Haneul a story or soothing him to sleep—that you feel a glimmer of something you’d thought you’d lost: hope. The simple act of holding him, soothing him through his small struggles… It’s healing in a way you can’t quite put into words, as if this little boy is slowly fusing pieces of your heart you’d almost forgotten were broken.

And Yoongi—he’s part of it, too. His presence, his quiet strength, the way he’s trusted you with something so precious. 

You know this is just a phase, that this isn’t your life, but a part of you can’t help but imagine what it would be like if it were. To be here, day after day, with this little family that’s somehow found its way into your heart.

You’re still healing, still putting yourself back together, but this—this feels like the start of something you could believe in again.

What you couldn’t believe though was the email from your building administrator with an acknowledgment receipt for next quarter’s rent payment—all settled. You haven’t made the deposit yet, how come it’s saying it’s been paid for already?

You pace your room staring at the email from your phone as if it holds all the answers. 

What is happening? Who paid for this? You didn’t sign up for some sugar baby service… 

Wait. Something clicks in your brain. Suga. Baby.

Your first instinct is to call Namjoon, meddler extrordinaire. He picks up on the second ring, sounding annoyingly chipper.

“‘Sup, buttercup?” he asks.

“Don’t act cute, Joonie,” you warn. “Did you know about this?”

There’s a pause. “About what, exactly?”

“Yoongi,” you say, practically hissing his name. “He paid my rent, didn’t he? Three months’ worth. How did he even know where I live?”

Namjoon lets out a hum, his tone maddeningly calm. “Ah. That.”

“Yes. That. Care to explain?”

“Look,” Namjoon says, unbothered. “Yoongi asked, so I gave him your address. He said you refused his offer, but still he wanted to pay you back somehow.”

“But Joon! It’s too much—” You pause, scrambling for the right words. “How did he even get a hold of the landlord and settle all this without my knowledge?”

Namjoon chuckles, which only makes you more annoyed. “Yoongi hyung is an influential guy, you know. If he wants something, he’ll fuckin’ find a way. Just take it, okay? You’re helping him, he’s helping you. It’s fair.”

You huff, still not convinced. “It’s just… a lot, Joon. I don’t need anyone swooping in and paying my bills. And you could’ve at least warned me.”

“I get it. But you’re helping him with something really important. This is his way of saying thank you.”

You sink back into your chair, the irritation draining out of you. “Fine,” you mutter. “But if he pulls something like this again, I’m coming for your ass.”

Namjoon laughs. “Aishh. Why the hell is it my fault?”

“You’re a smart man. Figure it out.” You hang up.

You spend that afternoon at Yoongi's. He was in a rush, dashing out for some shoot as you arrive. You hear him return around seven, just as you're finishing putting Haneul to sleep. Once the baby is settled, you tiptoe out of the nursery with the baby monitor on hand, following the sounds of soft clinking and the rich aroma wafting from the kitchen.

“Hey, Yoongi,” you call out, stepping into view. “Haneul’s all tucked in. I was just gonna—”

“Stay for dinner?” Yoongi’s eyes light up, his voice gentle but hopeful as he turns, holding a pot in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. It looks like he came straight from his shoot, his hair still styled in soft, precise waves that swoop perfectly across his cheekbones. He’s wearing the softest, oversized yellow sweater layered over a crisp white shirt, and his jeans hug him just right. But it’s his smile that really draws you in—light radiates from him, his face glowing not just from a bit of skincare, but from something more.

Goddamn. The man is looking fine as hell.

You’d planned to meet up with Namjoon tonight, but one look at Yoongi—whose eyes are too shy to hold yours as he ladles red sauce into a ceramic bowl—and you know you are absolutely staying put. Joon will understand.

“Ok, yeah, that looks really good,” you say.

“It is.” Yoongi smirks, just barely, and gestures to the fridge. “I’ll plate this up if you can grab some drinks?”

You procure a couple of beers from the chiller and set them on the dining table, shooting off a quick text to Joon afterwards.

You: Hey, raincheck? Yoongi made dinner and it looks good ngl

His response is instant.

Namjoon: You blowing me off to play house with hyung. K. I see how it is.

This asshole.

You’re about to call and give him a piece of your mind when Yoongi’s voice pulls you back. “Everything okay?”

Your gaze shifts to the plates of spaghetti he’s just set down, the aroma working wonders to sway your thoughts. “Yeah, just Joon being a pain in my ass as usual.”

“Sit.” Yoongi gestures to your chair as he settles into his.

“Wait.” You grab the baby monitor from the kitchen counter, setting it between you and Yoongi. The screen shows Haneul fast asleep, Bora tucked securely under his arm.

“There. Now we can eat.”

Yoongi nods, and the two of you dig in.

It hits you that this is actually the first time the two of you have shared a quiet dinner together like this. You were expecting Yoongi to let the silence linger, but he starts a conversation mid-way.

“I, uh, was surprised to see you back here,” he says casually, twirling a forkful of pasta.

“Me too. It was… kind of abrupt.”

He nods, not pressing, just listening. You don’t think you’re ready to talk about that so you try a joke.

“Didn’t think you’d ever see the girl who carried your performance of Stan?” you add, smirking. “I basically launched your career.”

“Carried?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Nah, you were choking.”

“Hell no.”

“Uh-huh.” He laughs softly, shoulders bobbing. “Rewriting history….”

“Fine. I sucked. Joon totally went behind my back with that one. Not that he’s the only one who likes going behind my back,” you add pointedly, of course alluding to the matter of your paid-off rent.

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck, looking almost guilty. “Sorry for overstepping.”

“Just don’t start paying my utilities behind my back, too. Because—”

He shifts awkwardly, avoiding your gaze.

“Yoongi?”

He clears his throat. “Just your electricity. I… may have asked the landlord to include it this month.”

“Oh my god.”

“And water,” he adds quickly, eyes widening like a kid who just got caught.

“Add my Netflix subscription while you’re at it.”

“Done.”

“NO!!! You’re actually worse than Joonie,” you groan, though a smile quirks at your lips. “But, thank you:”

He nods, briefly pausing before he speaks up again, a little too flippantly. “So… you and Namjoonie—what’s the deal there?”

You blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, looking somewhere over your shoulder. “You know what we all think? That he’s playing some kind of long game with you.”

You wrinkle your nose, laughing. “Oh god, no. Y’all are waayyy off. Namjoon’s like my brother, that’s it.”

Yoongi nods slowly, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips as he watches you.

“Everyone thinks that, huh?” you ask, leaning in, a little bolder than usual.

“Mhmm.” Yoongi gives a slow nod, as he nibbles his lower lip.

“All the members?”

“Yeah,” he says, watching you carefully.

“Including you?”

He shrugs, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though something shifts in his expression, like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle he didn’t know existed.

“Interesting,” you murmur, swirling your glass.

“Why?” he narrows his eyes on you, wheels turning in his head.

Maybe it’s the beer loosening you up, bubbles lifting your usual filters. You’ve always been a lightweight.

“You never wondered why Joonie suddenly set you up for English tutoring with me—just you—even though your company had a professional hired to teach everyone?”

He blinks, eyes narrowing a bit more.

“Or why I ended up singing with you at that damn club?” You laugh, leaning back.

His lips mold into a small pout, processing, but you’re already laughing.

“Joonie’s been throwing me into your orbit, Yoongi,” you say, giggling, the alcohol hitting you hard now. “And you’re telling me you never noticed?”

He looks like he’s having a full conversation with himself, his mouth opening and closing like a stunned goldfish inside a gallon bottle. All he manages is an eloquent: “shit.”

“Well, for the record,” you pause, “I thought you were cute, but it was obvious you weren’t interested. Don’t worry, though,” you say lightly, glancing down on your almost empty plate. “I’m a big girl now. It’s all in the past.”

As you stab the last meatball, you miss the way Yoongi’s gaze softens.

You have no way of knowing what’s going through his head. But if you did, you would find that he’s thinking:

If he could go back in time, he’d kick his younger self straight in the balls for not noticing, and tell him to get his head out of his ass long enough to realize this one shocking truth: 

You were not Namjoon’s girl.

And he actually had a chance with you.

Because maybe you’re right. Back then everything was about the dream—y’know, big house, big cars, big rings, and all that shit. So yeah, maybe, he wasn’t ready then.

But that doesn’t mean he isn’t now.

Notes: Oh-KKKAYYY!! How are we feeling? Anything you liked in particular in this chapter? Where is the baby mama? Do we even care atp?!

Part 2 is where things get more flirty, spicy, and all that good stuff.

Tell me your thoughts and theories. See you in the comments! <333

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful, human 💕🫶🏼

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Part Two >

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