#prev prev god ur so right

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[robins-s0ngbird]

hes not amused in the slightest btw

I can't help it 😂

[miawinters]

i'm playing Ken Follett's The Pillars of the Earth, and it's a point and clock adventure game with the "Your choices matter!" element to it, but it's really starting to feel like one of the bad telltale games where it's very clear that your choices don't really matter in the grand scheme of things, and the game is just a bunch of plot twists over and over that make u feel doomed

[dilf-docs]

Call It What You Want

husband!pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: you and pedro are married, but you've kept it a secret up to the point you sometimes forget there's supposed to be a golden band on your finger. but then you both get cast in your first movie together. the chemistry is off the charts, and it starts to catch upon you: will the lines between shipping and reality finally blur?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (ñom), smut, dry humping, oral (m. receiving) while pedro wears the skirt™️ (welcome to another episode of the writer's barely disguised fetish), p. in v., teeny bit of angst because i malfunction if i don't bring sad vibes to the function, the worst ever attempt of comedy witnessed by human kind, they're so down bad it hurts, jealous!reader, possesive!pedro, reader speaks spanish and may or may not have direct/indirect latino blood somewhere, use of spanglish but no translations ☹️ (boo go do your homework, citizens. that's what u get for making my dieter bravo fic flop BYE), i transcripted two real interviews for this so keep those likes, reblogs and comments up in the air where i can see 'em 🪓🪓

word count: 11,706 words

side note: hello! this is me, sliding my cv to become president of the pedro pascal fics. i'm kidding, just on duty to fulfill another request 🫡 believe it or not, i envisioned something like this but for myself IJBOL we have to keep the delusional levels UP!! i hope this meets ur expectations, it was fun to write :)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"Please welcome, the internet's newest darling, Y/n L/n!"

You walk into the set, cameras flashing bright and the band playing on the back. You hug Jimmy Fallon, and when he notices your body trembling he tells you everything will be alright. So did your manager before you stepped inside, but you can't help the nerves. You've never been this big before, and now it's all coming down together without letting you breath.

You take your seat and so does Jimmy.

"Hello, Y/n. This is your first time here, right?"

"Am I being too obvious?" you snort. The crowd laughs with you.

"Don't worry. It happens, especially when you're so young"

"Oh, please" you blush. "I can promise you there are kid actors who could handle this better than I am right now"

"Kid stars?" he lets out one of his famous cackles. "No need to be humble. You are great! Let's just talk about the year you've had: big breakout roles, ascend to fame, you're rocking it!" the crowd cheers, and you again turn into a flustered mess.

"Yeah, I suppose. It's hard to dimension when you've started as an extra for popular shows, to now being, you know, the main face of projects. But I could get used to it" you smile, "it's been a dream. I still can't believe it sometimes, look- I'm shaking"

The camera pans closer to the hand you're showing to Jimmy.

"Oh my God, even big stars like you get nervous"

"Big star? I wish I could feel like a constellation. I'm feeling more like a red dwarf star, baby"

The whole place bubbles in laughter. You feel better, your manager even giving you a thumbs up from behind the cameras.

"So, Y/n" Jimmy says once the laughter dies. "You just got casted in the upcoming Gladiator II movie, directed by Ridley Scott. How does it feel to be on your first big movie, alongside names like Paul Mescal, Denzel Washington and Pedro Pascal?"

You try to steady your heartbeat. "First of all, I have to say, it's such an honor to work with Scott. I grew up watching his movies. Like, Thelma and Louis is definitely my go-to movie. So, like, getting paired with such a talented cast is as awesome as terrifying" you answer with a laugh.

"Talking about that, you see" he leans closer, like he'll tell a secret. "I've heard things about you and a certain future co-star of yours"

You shift your position on the couch, your ring(less) finger itching. You have to avoid breathing in relief when Jimmy pulls out a picture.

"Oh. My. God"

He stiffles a laugh. No way. Has the room's temperature suddenly gotten hotter? Why is your face burning?

"Will you tell us the story behind this?" he asks, the camera focusing on the picture in question. The audience laughs, and you pray to God this is a nightmare, because it's too much embarrasment for a human to bear.

"Okay" you clear your throat, coughing awkwardly. "For my 25th birthday, I uploaded a bunch of pictures on Instagram, including ones where I was a teenager" you begin to giggle, "So. Um, there was this one, you see, that's, me, in my childhood home's bedroom, and my fans were quick to notice the poster above my bed"

"You mean, this one?" and Jimmy points it out. You cover your face with your palms. "It's a... Narcos poster" the audience laughs as you get redder. "A Pedro Pascal's Narcos poster"

"I know" you groan. "Picture this: me 18, and while my friends had posters of their favorite bands and artists, I was so different because I had a whole ass poster of a crime drama show about the world's most famous drug dealer on my bedroom" you recall with a laugh. "It was hard to explain to my mom. I believe she thought I wanted to sign for the DEA or something. When I told her I was going to be an actress, she was so relieved! She said: Oh, well. You'll die, but of hunger! Not a bullet in your head, at least"

"Oh. I'm so sorry. You proved her wrong though!"

"I did! Don't worry, Jimmy. She's my biggest fan now" you look at a specific camera before saying, "Te amo mami!"

"I see you speak spanish. I sometimes forget" he comments. "You've got one thing in common with Pedro, it seems. Think that'll make working with him less awkward?"

"I just hope he forgives me or I'm capable of moving out of the country and changing names" you giggle. "Pedro, lo siento!"

"Well, that's Y/n L/n, everyone! Pedro Pascal's number one fan" you burst out laughing in shame. "More on her lastest movie after the break"

mandoshoney: tell me i'm not the only one who started shipping pedro pascal and y/n l/n PLEASE can't wait to get content of them interacting ㅤㅤann-gell: mandoshoney y/n's pedro pascal's controversially young gf era starts now! i wonder how the press tour for #gladiatorII will go 🤔 unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they are dating ㅤㅤstarlightt180: unhing3dprincess ptwt can never tweet like normal ppl…wdym you're betting your grandma?!!!?

You were never a fan of secrets.

But then Pedro waltzed into your life with his charming smile and iconic mustache, and before you knew it, you had married him off in some church in California one random sunday morning ("I love you so much, can't wait to marry you, cariño" "If you can't wait any longer, why not now?")

Flash forward, four years later, and you'd think such event would be plastered all over the internet. But there is a reason why only you, family, a selected number of friends and your agents knew: you kept it a secret.

To the world, he was Chile's most elegible bachelor and you were a young rising star. The public loved both of you for the same reasons: charming persona and acting skills. Yet inside the privacy of your home, he was Pedro and you were y/n, wife and husband; he was yours as you were his.

And of course, no marriage is perfect, and your first real challenge is rather funny: you both get casted in your first movie together.

It shouldn't be hard, but it is. Being inside the Gladiator II set during seven months, so far away yet so close at the same time, was torture. You were Rome's empress and he's Marcus Acacius, yet behind the scenes, the actual married couple were you both.

It was hard to pretend you didn't know what he looked like without clothes when he wore his bathing suit, or that you didn't know his favorite food when Paul asked, or acting like you weren't interested in dating when a local in Malta during your trip at the beach asked you out (he didn't know who you were. You were flattered when he called you pretty in such a hot European accent, but then Pedro appeared from seemingly "nowhere" and you remembered what your real favorite accent was. He immediately called you bonita after that)

It was so hard to keep hands to yourself when he walked by you, covered in fake blood. To not think about licking it all over and under his armour. So was to pretend the thought of dry humping him with his Roman skirt on wasn't tempting. Or that the urge to kiss him got harder and harder to fight each passing day, even getting to a point where you would envy Connie for being able to kiss your husband in the open more, a privilege you didn't have.

You were loosing your mental health here. But Pedro was no better.

It was so hard to see you, the Moroccan sun shining over your features like you were an angel. Otherworldly. That he'd see red when you'd finish filming a scene with Joseph, forcing himself to interrupt the small chat you'd engage in after. He too couldn't keep pretending he didn't want to tear off those silk dresses out of your body, and kiss you out in the open like Joseph did.

He almost failed once, cornering you in the hallway of the hotel you were staying. His hot breath lingered on your neck. I miss you, he had said. You felt his hard brush the inner of your thigh. We can't, you whispered in a dragged out voice.

It was hard.

So you gave him your used panties, and you swear you could hear him jacking off in the bathroom of his room, next to yours. He'd screamed your name, and your hand had found it's way to your dripping cunt, doing what he was supposed to do; touching you the way he did. And you came, drowned out moans against your pillow. But it wasn't like when he did it.

But God has heard your prayers.

For the first time in weeks, you're lucky. You find Pedro sitting alone in the cafeteria, his phone in hand. He's still wearing his armour and skirt, not bothering to change for the break. You aren't God's strongest soldier, but you're trying not to go down on him so badly right here and now.

"Hey" he raises his head when he hears your voice, smile adoringly. It only grows wider when he notices you alone. "Thought you'd never get rid of Paul. He's like, stitched to you"

"Same can be said about you and Joseph" you sit across him, and despite most of his tone being playful, there are still hints of jealousy behind. It arouses you deeply, and with this hot summer day above you, your skin isn't the only thing that's getting sticky.

"In case you haven't read the script, I'm his wife" you wink. "Sorry this is how you find out"

He laughs loudly, and God, how have you missed that laugh. Sure, it's been there when you've been out with the cast together, but it doesn't tingle your chest as when you're the cause of it; it feels like it's for you only, and that's what makes it special.

"I miss you so much" he whispers, his hand sliding across the table, finding yours. His thumb carresses your soft palm, and you melt under Pedro's tender touch.

"I do too" you sigh, but it's instantly replaced by what could only be described as a smug face. You lean closer, whispering on his ear, the warm meeting cold. He shivers. "Wanna know something?"

"I'm all ears"

"I just came back from walking. Guess what?No one is 'round here" you lean back against your chair, shit-eating grin on your face as all his body tenses up. "Made sure of it. The trailer zone is empty too"

Pedro gulps, his adam's apple bobbing as his eyes look at you.

"Y/n" calling your name as a warning.

"What? Can't a girl find ways to have her husband all for herself?" you snort. "Please say yes" you let go of his hand, but the free fingers now travel across his broad chest, taunting him. "C'mon, we both deserve a break"

He can't say deny you anything, can he? You know it, he knows it.

Before you register, his big hand engulfs yours as you run across the set. You giggle at his rushed steps, even more when you stand before his trailer and he's fumbling his slippery hands with the doorknob, sloppy movements erratic.

"But you told me to stop" you tease, and he doesn't even let you add more because he's pushing you inside, forcing you with rough calloused hands to a chair and then you to sit over his lap.

"Fuck, babygirl. I've spoiled you way too much" he groans against your lips. "Lo sabes, ¿verdad? Just can't say no to you"

Your eyes darken dangerously, the hunger on them mirroring his own.

"How could you ever say no to this?"

You press your chest against his broad one as your lip bites into his lower one, teasing. Pedro feels his underwear getting tighter when your tongue finds its way inside his mouth, even getting a glimpse of the taste of the strawberries you had earlier before.

He deepens the kiss, and when you pull away to catch your breath, he doesn't waste his lonely mouth and busies himself with the task of kissing your sun-kissed neck, licking and pressing his lips under your jaw. Pedro goes even lower, down until he's reached your collarbone, making you groan a bit under his wet sloppy needy mouth. He's enjoying how putty you are under his intense kissing, fingers in his curls, that have begun to damp under the ablaze of the small space and pleasure that fills the air.

"Kiss me again in my lips" you whine after a while of him teasing you with kisses that get only rougher. "Pretty please, papi"

You cup his face in your hands, and Pedro's back to kissing you in the mouth, tasting all of your insides as he hasn't had in what feels like a lifetime.

"Of course, baby. Missed this pretty mouth" he mumbles in between hot kisses, his now growing boner pressing into you.

"Baby" you giggle. The skirt he's got on may hide it, but your fingers refused to wait, pulling it up. His bulge presses against the shorts he's got under the skirt, and you can feel your pussy and mouth drool. "We have to do something about this big boy" your hands pull down the short, leaving just his underwear on. He's about to remove the skirt, but your demanding hands stops him. "This stays"

His brown concerned eyes make you laugh, but you don't give him time to think about it, rather grinding against his erection. Pedro's breath hitches when he feels your daring movements, bucking his hips against yours.

The friction is addicting, and he captures your lips once again to make you feel what he can't with words: how fucking good this feels.

You keep moving over his aching dick. Your husband throws his head back, groaning in pleasure at the way your hips move against him, knowingly. His hands find their way to your ass under the flowy almost translucent skirt you chose to change in, gripping the rosy skin tightly, hands almost covering all of it.

"You wore this for me, right, cariño? Knew I couldn't say no" he groans, firm hands on your cheeks, the grinding meeting his hips now harsher. "Less with you walking around with this slutty skirt of yours"

You make little sounds he's obssesed with, dripping out of your filthy mouth.

"Fuck" Pedro groans after a while, "I need to have you, mami. Missed you so much" eager fingers make it to your top. He growls, deep within him―guttural, ready to pull it off as he mumbles naughty wife when he realizes you got no bra on, chastising you for a "rushed" plan that seemed planned all along, when a sound cuts through the air.

You both stop.

The sound gets clearer.

It's a knock. A knock at his door.

A knock in Pedro's trailer.

And you are inside. Both.

While you're grinding him.

With his skirt on.

(It's time to build a bomb and kill yourselves off and whoever is stading behind that door)

"Pedro!" a familiar accent calls. Peudrou. It's Paul. "Hey, man. Just wondering if you are here"

He's debating on speaking up when he sees your red face and rising-falling chest before him.

"Answer" you whisper breathlessly. He tries not to groan when he fills you slip out of the spot in his middle while also trying not to think about murdering Paul as soon as he gets out.

Aside from the order, you're unexpectedly quiet, and Pedro quirks an eyebrow at you. He knows you better―you're his wife after all, and if there's something he's aware of, is your inability to loose.

"I'm here" tone clipped and annoyed. But no footsteps backtracking are heard: the Irish man is still there.

You bite your lip, watching the skirt with his legs spread, a sight too tempting. Also, he was still hard, as hard as the task to not go and keep doing your job.

Oh, fuck this shit.

Your devilish hand equals the grin in your face, fingers making their way toward his unattended bulge.

"What are you doing here?" Paul asks, but Pedro's attention has completely deviated, now focused on how they land right over his clothed dick, skirt pulled up by your other hand. "I thought you were at the cafeteria"

"Yeah?" but it comes out strained, yet the younger man doesn't notice or comment.

His hips raise when your fingers press his member, massaging it.

"Yeah" he uses a tone that equals a duh. "You texted me yourself"

Pedro rolls his eyes, wishing desperately he would go away, annoying him just as much as a fly hovering above fresh food. Talking about food, fuck, weren't you hungry? He tried to warn you, holding your wrist, but all resolve was lost the moment you looked in his eyes: he immediately pulled down his briefs, dick sprouting hard.

"Well, changed my mind" his tone falters in between words, member now free from the confines of his tight underwear.

"Are you tired, man? You sound tired" Paul comments on his tone. "Came to rest?"

You spit on your hand, and he gulps.

"Somethin' like that"

You start to jerk him off, leaving little wet kisses and licks just above his dick. Pedro's eyes are hypnotized, glued to every lick of yours across his girth, the spit making your movements smoother. Sexier. Fuck.

"Well, sorry to break it to you but rest time is over. They want us back on set now"

Your tight needy lips are wrapped around his his length and it's so hard to keep the talk normal when he justs wants to yell at Paul to fuck off. Your hand is there too; you are as of help as much as you aren't.

"I'll be there, Paul, just―Fuck!"

But his attempt to cover a moan doesn't go unnoticed.

"Are you alright in there?" he tries to enter, but Pedro locked the door. He's yelling he's fine, but Mescal doesn't sound convinced. "I can't go inside; it's locked. Are you sure you are okay, mate?"

"Didn't want you to take a picture of me drooling on my sleep" he manages to get out in a monotone voice. A real win if you take into account you've gotten to a point where you squeeze under his cock, massaging his balls.

"Smart move!" he chuckles from outside. "I guess I'll see you there"

Pedro covers a moan with his palm as he's throwing his head back in pleasure. He can feel his orgams looming over, minstrations growing sloppier around his pulsating cock, the need to fill your greedy evil mouth with his seed making him sick. He's a simple man: he just wants his pretty wife to fuck his cock silly and come in her mouth in peace. Is that so hard to get this days?

Paul seems to be finally gone as Pedro can't keep containing his grunts anymore, steps moving: until said steps sound closer again.

"Oh, I almost forgot, have you seen Y/n? I can't find her anywhere" it's coming. His orgasm is coming in the absolute worst moment. He can feel you gagging at his hard rock cock, hitting the back of your throat now. Still, your hands don't loose their grip on his cock and skirt, determination filling that sexy little body of yours. It was rather admirable the effort you were putting in this. "Think she went to the beach? She said she loved it. God, that little rebel. Anyway, if you see her, tell her-"

He leans his head back once again, seeing stars. No one knows him like his wife, truly.

The sight of you drooling from your chin, the wet sounds of him fucking himself onto your mouth as your spit-coated fingers pump his girth, you gulping down the precum from his tip, his fingers holding your face roughly by the cheeks...

"Yes, Paul, yes!" Pedro barks, barely hiding the moan that erupts from his ribcage, thick shots of his hot cum hitting your tongue and deep of the throath. "Fuck off and let me get ready"

"Jesus, mate, chill. I'm sorry. See you there"

And Paul Mescal's hovering fly ass is finally gone.

"Poor Paul" you say as soon as you pull off his length, voice raspy as you huff for air. Pedro lovingly cleans rests of your saliva and his cum from your chin as he chuckles at how much audacity, courage and horniness could fit in such a small young body. "You've ruined the friendship"

"You think?" he licks off some as you sit on his lap again, tongue directly on your face. You feel aroused again, but time's up. "It's your fault. That and this"

He points down.

"Just as you used that pretty head of yours to think of the trouble you just made, think of an excuse for Mr. Ridley about the skirt"

at0michips: wait wdym paul is sick??? ㅤㅤl-u-n-a-m: at0michips he's died vnightx: i'm wondering who'll do now the do you even know me interview with pedro now :( i was so excited!!! hope they don't cancel it :( ㅤㅤunhing3dprincess: vnightx i bet my grandma it's y/n ㅤㅤat0michips: unhing3dprincess why do u keep betting ur grandma omg 😭😭😭

"You know what I think would be fun?" Pedro comments while you wait for the interview's set to be prepared.

Tour press has finally begun. That meant you could go home for a while after the filming wrapped, just to be back for the promotion of the film. You were excited of course, the experience new and thrilling. After much needed battery recharging and husband/wife time, you were ready to take over the world.

But then Paul got sick.

Today's interview was scheduled to be him and Pedro, but since he was unavailable, they paired him with you, since you both spoke Spanish (which felt slightly racist in your opinion), and because Fred and Joseph were already paired up for the other.

You leave your coffee, knowing he's about to say something stupid or endearing, perhaps both, brown liquid probably spilling out of your mouth. Or worst, nostrils.

"Tell me"

"What if we left little hints that we're together?" his smile is one of mischief. "Like you could wear my cap, or I could wear a chain with your initial around my neck, like Ryan Gosling did at the Barbie premiere"

"Or as Taylor Swift sang" you counter. "But Pedro, dear, you're underestimating our fans. You don't think they'll match it sooner than we think?"

"Maybe" he agrees. That's just what I want. "What's funny is we're about to do a type of interview where we could blow our cover"

"Maybe" you repeat, "or maybe you don't know all about me as much as you think, Mr. Pascal"

He fake gasps, feigning hurt. "Is this a dare, Mrs. Pascal?"

"No" you try to be mature for once, cutting the banter as much as you'd like to go on and kiss him right there. "Also, remember to answer incorrectly sometimes, you know..."

"There's no way I'm letting you win though"

"Pedro, no seas necio!"

The producers arrive just in time to let you know it's ready.

"After M'lady" he's back to being charming as he is, not as husband charming but just Pedro Pascal charming. The nerve of this guy to do it in front of the LADbible crew.

"Whatever" you grumble, the nerves getting the best of you as you realize this interview may or may not give away more than you've been allowed before.

"Hello, I am Y/n L/n" you present yourself. Wow, the camera is really close. This isn't going to end well.

"And I'm Pedro Pascal"

Hearing his voice soothes you. It's okay, y/n, you got this. "And this is Do You Really Know Me- No wait, it's do you even know me. Okay, let's start again: Hello, I'm Y/n and this is-"

"I don't even know anymore" Pedro jokes, making you laugh. "Do you even know me?" he asks while looking forward, now making the crew laugh.

"This is Pedro Pascal, that'll do" you sigh.

"This is gonna be sad, she's not going to know any of these" he says, but in reality, he's mocking you, the mischief in his eyes glowing as he only looks at you tauntingly.

"Same can be said about you" you tease, "we're like a million years away"

"That's not true!" he gasps, "I watch your every move" punctuating each word. God, you try not to make a face. "I have Google alerts on you"

If he was gonna play, so were you.

"Glad to know I have you alerted" with the sweetest voice ever, seeing how his friendly façade falters for a bit at the tone you've used. You laugh, and Pedro takes the chance to laugh it off too.

After the introduction, they ask one of you to keep score, and you offer yourself because, well, you don't trust Pedro.

"I'll go first" you say. "Which was my first ever role in the industry? As an extra during an episode of Stranger Things, as a voice actor in A dog's purpose" you can't help but laugh, "or as a back-up dancer in Hustlers?"

"In Hustlers?" Pedro inquires in disbelief. "You're telling me you were in Hustlers?! I didn't even know you could dance!"

Lies. You and Pedro sometimes put some bachata and dance in the kitchen. God bless Juan Luis Guerra.

"Jennifer Lopez and I are practically besties" you answer nonchalant.

You know the answer. He does too. But he chooses the last one for comedic purposes.

"I'll go with Hustlers. Now that I'm looking at you, you do have a... dancer face"

"It's okay, you can say the forbidden word. I'll take it as a compliment" you laugh, "you're wrong, though. The answer is Stranger Things"

"No way!" and it sounds as if he genuinely didn't know. Good lying son of a bitch; Jim Carrey on Liar, Liar would've been proud.

"Yes. If you look in the background of season two, on this one episode where Nancy and Steve appear to have broken up during a halloween party, you can see me drinking from a cup on a corner"

"That's so crazy"

"Yeah, I was twenty already, yet playing a highschooler" you giggle. "Wow, time flies by. Anyway, we're both at zero. Your turn"

"What film did my dad not let me see at the cinema when I was, uh, ten years old?" Pedro reads from his card. "Rambo: first blood, The Breakfast Club, Day of The Dead"

"I'm going to base this in the year you were born. Okay, so 1975. Let's see" one of the things Pedro loves about you is that you're like a film encyclopedia, but right now, that'll cost him a point. "They all came out the same year, and they were also R rated. Hmmh, I'll choose The Breakfast Club"

Your analysis was just mindless bragging really. You knew the answer the moment he started reading the question, because the anecdote came during a time he heard you listening to the movie's soundtrack ("Did you know that my dad...")

"You complain about Paul all the time, but you're just the same" he comments. "She's a real competitor, people!"

You flush in embarrasment. "Okay, that's one for me. Next question" you read the card in your hands. "What pet do I own? An orange cat named Louis after my favorite singer, a fish, or a Shih Tzu named after my brother"

The orange cat lives with you both. You're curious as to how he'll answer.

"You aren't naming a Shih Tzu frickin' Fernando" he laughs, so loud, it ends up catching up to you and the crew. "I'll go with the cat"

"That's correct" you lament. "How would you know?"

As if the damn cat doesn't love him more than he loves you.

"I follow you on Instagram" he defends himself. Clever. "We are, um, what do you call it-"

"Oomfs"

"I'm not gonna try to pronounce your made up language. Okay, my turn. Which of these characters I've played in Saturday Night Live? Naughty daddy, protective mom, or weird uncle who has a creepy sneeze" he reads out loud in a confused tone.

This is easy. It was all over your timeline.

"Protective mom" you answer on a beat.

"This isn't fair, that was really popular!" he complains.

"It's still two for me and one for you" you mock. "Now, what is the nickname the internet has given me? I won't give you clues because it's an easy one"

"Easy? You said we were million of years apart and now I'm supposed to know?"

"Well, you seem to manage Instagram so I think you'll be just fine" you tease, and Pedro just wants to rip that smirk off of you. So he caves in first.

"It's people's princess"

"What?!" your eyes grow comically large, shimmering with betrayal as you shout with an incredulous tone. "I can't believe you know" more like can't believe you said it.

"You're royalty! How am I supposed to not know that, internet darling? Besides, told you: I keep my eye on you" and he winks.

This motherfucker. Oh, he's totally sleeping on the couch tonight.

"Talk about internet darlings" your snarky tone comes out, and Pedro knows he's pissed his competitive wife off. "I guess we have a tie. Your turn"

"What are the initials of my full name?" his brows furrow. "I forget. JBPP, JPBP, JBPP"

"José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you recite. "B, of course"

"But that's too easy, everyone with Google knows it!" but then he's leaning into your ear, whispering in a very low voice to make sure only you hear. "I'll let it pass, though. Love hearing you pronounce my name, mami"

Your face grows obscenely red. "I'm back ahead. Let's see if you can keep up. Okay, here it goes" you read the card, "what is the director I've stated I want to work with? Greta Gerwig, Pedro Almodóvar, or Quentin Tarantino"

"Pedro Almodóvar, no? You said you were jealous I had already worked with him" he playfully nudges you. Too much contact, face hot again. Maybe in group interviews you'll do better, because right now, you're doing a rather poor job at controlling yourself, even as an actor; you can already picture your agent pulling her hair behind the cameras.

"It's Greta Gerwig, actually"

"What?! No way, you told me this!" he grumbles. "This game is rigged"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm still jealous. I just think working with Greta Gerwig is peak womanhood, and I gotta live that. So, Greta, if for some reason this silly video gets to you, call me. I promise I'm not that childish"

"She is" Pedro slips in, "don't call her. So unprofessional" in a mocking exaggerated tone.

"Whatever, you sore looser. Me three, you two. Next!"

"Fine. Which of these songs would I have played at my funeral? My Heart Will Go On, Purple Rain, Nothing Compares To You"

He looks at you, silently pleading you to not answer correctly. Your competitive side screams in agony.

"I have no idea. Why do I feel you've already said it somewhere, though? I'll go with Nothing Compares To You, because the first its too corny for you and the second too epic"

He scoffs, amused at the fact that you did obey, but at what cost? Pedro's well aware his princess can get as competitive, if not worse, than Paul.

"You're saying I'm not epic enough for Purple Rain? Too bad, because that's the answer" you grunt, crossing your arms. "That's right, I am cool enough to have it played. I guess we're tied again!"

"No, you don't loose a point. It's still three to two. This just gives you the opportunity to tie"

"W-wait a minute"

"Settle down" you pat his thigh, "you can still try, handsome"

He gulps when your hand meets his skin, despite the layer of clothes. It's still something that gets him on edge, no matter the years you've known each other. And handsome? You came here for blood.

"Okay, here's your chance: what image of me became trending topic on twitter? An image of me eating a typical dish from my country, an image of me watching Deadpool and Wolverine with glasses while Hugh Jackman's shirtless scene reflects on them or C, me meeting Taylor Swift at the backstage of the Eras Tour"

"The typical dish is tempting" he muses out loud, "but I'll go with the Taylor Swift one because that sounds like something that'd trend"

"You're right" you throw your card. "I'm not complaining though. Best day of my life"

"Does this mean I'm winning?" he beams excitedly. "Oh, in your face Paul! I will finally win something!"

"Slow down, cowboy. There's still some left"

He purses his lips. "Let me have this one thing, would you? Guess not. Here it comes" he starts to read his card, "At school I competed in state competitions, in which sport? Soccer, lacrosse, swimming"

"Swimming" you answer hastily, trying not to think on Pedro wearing tight little swimsuits, as you've only seen him wearing swim trunks.

"Okay, that's dissapointing. Please continue"

"I participated in which play while I was in highschool? Hamlet, The Iliad or Much Ado About Nothing"

You doubt he remembers. The only time it ever came up, was when you visited your parent's house and a photography of you during said play was showed to him by your dad.

"The Iliad, right?" you laugh. The answer is wrong: It's Hamlet. "What? I swear it was that one! It's just you have very..." beautiful is at the tip of his tongue but he refrains himself, "...very greek features"

You can't help but laugh.

"Why of course! This is a face people go to war for"

"I agree" your heart skips a beat, "but I don't think I'll make it that far, if we talk about a war"

"You big fat liar!" you slap his arm playfully. "You've played all sort of characters, from soldiers of all nationalities and places, and like, superheroes, f*****g Joel Miller, even a DEA agent. You at least learned something!"

"Wow, slow down, this isn't a filmography recount" he jokes. Liar, you mouth to the cameras. "Okay, last one: I became a viral sensation for eating what type of sandwhich in LADbible's snack wars: BLT, PB&J, grilled cheese"

You remember the video fondly. Even your brother had sent it to you, along a text that said: Isn´t this your husband?

"PB&J, I win!" you cheer, instantly getting off the chair to do a celebratory dance. Pedro doesn't say anything, just throwing the cards away while the fondness of his eyes betrays him.

pyramiidsf: i want someone to look at me the way pedro looks at y/n mybritishstyle: guys they're just friends 😭 he's like that with all his female co-stars ㅤㅤann-gell: mybritishstyle me when i'm delusional af mandoshoney: where's that girl that's always betting her grandma??? SHE WAS RIGHTFLKRGJ

"Hello, I'm Paul Mescal. I'm here with my friends from the cast of Gladiator II" Connie and you both raise your palms to greet the camera, laughing when you realize you'd done it at the same time, "and we are going to play a game about how well we know each other for Vanity Fair" the irish man introduces the interview you're filming today.

"Did they prompt you?" Pedro speaks up, "or did you just make that up on the fly?"

You laugh a bit too loud, hoping they cut it off in the editing process.

Paul goes first, taking up a card with the first question written on it.

"Okay. Question: What's my least favorite day of the week?"

"Tuesday" answers Joseph once Paul is done reading. "Oh, you're writing it down?"

"Yeah" he answers.

"You just wrote Tuesday" Connie points out, Paul's card on his legs. You laugh along the rest.

"Yeah" he repeats laughing. "I actually, when you said Tuesday" Yeah, he said Tuesday Pedro adds on the background of laughter. "I was like...I'm gonna give everybody a point for that"

"I think I deserve a point for being observant" Connie complains.

Everyone gets a point and Paul moves towards the next question.

"What was the name of my character in Normal People?"

"Connell" both you and Joseph answer, looking at each other before squinting your eyes playfully.

"Callum" Pedro answers out loud at the same time, and you laugh. He clearly had slept when you played it for a re-watch last summer.

"No, you're out" Paul pokes Pedro next to him.

"Connel" Joseph repeats, and Fred agrees to the same answer.

Paul then asks Connie what's hers after he confirms you three.

"Connor?" she asks, confused.

"Incorrect. Three points" while pointing you three.

"You got wrong" he tells Pedro, "Callum's a different character"

"See? You just don't pay attention when you watch things" you blurt out, stopping yourself before adding the with me. It would be harder to come back from that, but so is this as everyone looks at you, even your husband, subtle panic in his eyes. Where the cameras this close? How long had you been silent?

"It's just, quick funny story" you improvise. "Pedro didn't know much about Paul's career, and as I am a fan, I took the time to show him and recommend him your stuff" Paul smiles. "Clearly, my fanatism didn't rub on Pedro but a girl can try"

He laughs, before saying "So the answer is Connell" and you try so hard to remain normal like the energy hasn't shifted.

"He only plays characters with the letter C in the name" Pedro jokes, chewing on a toothstick he seemingly pulled out of nowhere. More laughs follow, and you are so grateful for how he's handling your little metida de patada.

"What's number one on my bucket list?" he asks next, "and don't look at my answer"

The marker is the only sound to be heard, and then Pedro jokingly tries to take a peek.

"No peeking" Connie berates as Pedro laughs.

"You're not gonna be able to see that" Paul replies in an anyways tone.

You repeat the same joke, before Fred blocks you. "Not you too!"

Paul finishes after a while, Connie commenting it was long. Joseph raises his hand.

"Yes, Joseph"

"Is it to see the Great Wall of China?" he asks.

"No, but it's in that-"

"It's close, isn't it?" you interrupt.

"...family of thought" he finishes.

"It's to go and see something" Pedro points out.

"Okay. Rajasthan" tries Connie. "Go to Rajasthan, for a tour"

"Travel to South America" Paul interrupts with the correct answer, "I've never been to South America"

"I'm from South America" Pedro comments, never missing a chance to shout out his dear Chile.

Paul jokes about him getting three points while the rest of you laugh.

"I was born in South America. 17 points for Pedro"

"I want points too" you jump on the joke. "I know Spanish, so I can take you there and avoid you getting lost, mi querido amigo"

"But who was born there?" Pedro counters, "you get no points"

"I think Joseph is the only person who gets a point there" Paul adds, "because everybody just jumped on the bandwagon"

"He said to visit the Great Wall of China" Pedro protests, "which is nowhere near South America"

"It really is not" Connie agrees.

"Qué gente tan tramposa" you complain. "That's unfair. I remove my offer"

"Think about bucket list, and he came up with travel to bit" he tries to reason Joseph's point.

"And by the way, where in South America?" Pedro questions.

"Don't fight, don't fight" pleads Joseph, the calm one. Fred just sits there, enjoying the chaos.

"I want, any, I want to do a big tour of everywhere" Mescal defends himself.

Pedro doesn't back down. "'Cause it's very different"

Paul starts to get angry too. Jesus, men. Competitive men of it all.

"I know it's very different" making an annoyed face.

"Well, different is nice" you intervene, a hand placing in Pedro's left shoulder. "If you stop giving points for free, I'll come with you to the big everywhere tour"

"Alright" Paul agrees. "When's my birthday?" is the next question.

"February" all of you say.

Joseph struggles with the date first, saying seventh, then fourth. Fred tries with ninth, Pedro with eight, and then Joseph starts counting from one to two. Fred counts from eleven to twelve.

"Second" Mescal reveals. "Point to Joseph"

"Oh my God, you guys are good" Connie mentions.

"That's all my questions" and it's time to move on the next one: which happens to be your dear husband, Pedro.

"Paul is like" he brings up while the toothpick dances on his teeth, "Paul is motivated to catch up on points. He's coming for you" to pick on his competitive side as Mescal looks deep in thought.

"He's coming. He's coming" Joseph repeats as Fred laughs.

"What is my full name?"

"Oh! Pedro-" Paul tries in a blink. "Something, J? Jose? Juan?"

"Pedro Pascal, something, something" says Joseph.

"Nope"

"No?"

"Pedro Maria, Jose Maria Pascal" Paul struggles.

Pedro is about to answer when your voice cuts through the air.

"It's José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you recite.

"It indeed is!" he says, smiling a bit too much. "She gets a point"

"Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" your husband repeats in a more english-friendly pronunciation, looking at the camera while toying with his toothpick.

"I said Jose, I said Jose" Paul protests.

Pedro shakes his head. "You said Jose, but then you put it-"

Connie takes Paul's side. "You did say Jose"

"But then you put it behind Pedro which eliminate- which disqualified you" he replies.

Paul gets angry. That sore looser.

"That's absolute bullshit"

"Don't worry mate, the game has just begun" you joke, making the man more irritated. "Think you can get ahead of me?"

"Joseph is still ahead, y/n" Paul counters, still irritated. "Besides, wouldn't it be cheating? You can speak Spanish!"

"So? Not like speaking a language allows you to know every person's name Paul" you mock. He just snorts, despite still being half angry. Pedro is allowed to continue, trying not to make a face at yours and Paul's banter.

"The question is, who is my favorite actor?" he reads. As the cast members laugh, he uncaps the marker with his mouth, and now you have to try not to make a face, thinking about those teeth sinking into your flesh.

Quinn raises his hand. "It's me"

"That you're my favorite actor?"

"Yeah. You said that to me once" the bald man sounds sure of it.

Paul tries to think in the background. So do you. How can you not know this? he must've brought it up at least once.

"Do you remember?" Joseph insists.

Pedro finally remembers. "I said you were- I said I thought you were special"

"Oh" he sounds rather dissapointed.

"And special can mean a lot of things" he jokes, laughing by himself. Fred laughs with you as Joseph makes a face, your laughter turning even louder when you notice Paul all moody, trying to get this point.

"Who's your favorite actor?" Paul asks, "I think we just have to shoot from the hip here guys"

"Marlon Brando?" Connie guesses.

"Is it Harrison Ford?" Fred guesses.

"Let's go with Harrison Ford just because he's my favorite actor..."

You can't believe you didn't know this. You've re-watched and watched so many Star Wars content together. He gives you a brief look, knowing you're embarrased at your lack of answer.

"As a kid?"

"He's most influent, yeah" Pedro agrees.

"What job did I have before I became a full-time actor?" is next.

"Dancer. You were a great dancer" Paul aswers. Both Fred and Joseph repeat it, adding he was specifically a go-go dancer.

"Oh, he is" you add. "Videos of you dancing are lovely. Ever thought of getting back in the bussiness?"

He laughs, what appears to be a light blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Sure, darling. When you ask me to dance, I'll be there"

Nobody comments on this, too busy waiting for Pedro to say yes or no to the answer they believe to be right. But he isn't saying it is. Now you remember why.

"Come on, come on, come on" Paul begs.

"Can any of you guys remember?" Pedro pleads.

They insist that he danced in Spain, then New York, then settle with Spain again, even Pedro confirming so. But it still isn't the answer written on the card, no matter how much the boys insist.

"Connie?" he tries. She just looks confused.

"The answer in the card is-"

"Waiter" you answer. "You were a waiter"

Now you have three points under your belt.

"Why do you always say the answer at last?!" Paul grumbles. "You are cheating!"

"I'm not" you laugh the accusation off. "You just can't accept I'm better"

"Si que lo eres" Pedro agrees. "Es divertido hacer que se enoje Paul"

"What did you say about me? It's not fair, you're probably sharing the answers!" he's still adamant on insisting with the supposed cheating issue, making you laugh.

Now it's Connie's turn, who starts with: "How many languages do I speak?"

You put a puzzled look.

"You speak seven, eight maybe" Joseph guesses. Pauls says she speaks french, "but most likely seven"

Pedro points his finger at him. "Once he gets going, he's on a roll"

"Joe's got it" Connie agrees.

"Paul, end this reign" Pedro jokes. He looks rather frustrated.

"And the bonus points" Connie offers. "Okay, bonus, what are they?"

"This is an emperor's reign" your husband adds.

Joseph answers: Italian. Danish. English. Swedish. French. Spanish. Norwegian.

Connie agrees she speaks Spanish, making you jump in excitement.

"Oh, I didn't know that!" you beam. "Wait, does that mean you did get what Pedro and I gossiped about you?"

"What?" Joseph asks.

"Nada" you quickly correct yourself. "Yo no dije nada"

"Not that much. I just speak a bit of Spanish. I mostly dominate my own language, German and English"

"You blew our cover!" Pedro nags, hitting your bare leg, yet its devoid of anger.

"He needs a bonus" comments Connie, surprised at Joseph.

"This is horrifying" Pedro says when Joseph gets another point and a fricking bonus on top of that. "This is a slaughter"

"Oh, for which film did I have a gym built in my garage?"

Both Joseph and Paul answer the question correctly, saying Wonder Woman. The latter is quick to state they both get that point.

"That's one for me" Paul says, then looks at you. "And none for you"

You stick out your tongue at him as Connie reads the next card.

"If I were to take this cast on a vacation where would I take you?"

"Ibiza" answers Joseph. Connie agrees in Spanish, with a cute and excited correcto.

Your husband feels the need to crack a joke at Quinn's expense.

"Somebody was paying attention to Connie Nielsen very closely during the shooting of this movie"

"Okay. What is my favorite curse word in Danish?"

"Fuck" Pedro tries.

"No"

"Nobody is going to get that, Connie" Paul bickers.

"Oh, I don't know any Danish" you lament.

"At least now you know how it feels" Mescal drops, making you snort. You playfully kick him on the ribs with your shoe.

"It's very simple" Connie gives as a clue. "It's the same word in every language"

"Shit" Paul tries.

"Satan" she reveals.

Everybody is laughing in confusion at that, saying there's no way you could use that.

"Vos Satan!" Connie curses.

Now it's Fred's turn.

"What is my weirdest on-set habit?"

"I haven't noticed you do anything weird on set" Paul tells.

"I have" Pedro interrupts.

They all get on a small briefing about what could it possibly be, that it was weird, and wasn't part of his character, as you ponder. It was funny before, but now Paul is behind you by a point. So think fast.

"Yeah. I would say being yourself" Pedro jokes, but surprisingly, it works.

"Me! Five points for Pedro" he celebrates as you all laugh. "Love Fred. Oh, Fred"

"Oh, oh, okay" he moves to the next question. "What is my favorite reality TV show?"

Joseph tries with Survivor and Paul with Alone. Truth is, you don't watch any show of said kind, only vagely hearing about Love Island.

"You and I have talked about reality TV" Pedro reveals, "It's just that we never identified one"

They keep guessing shows that sound like a foreign language to you.

"You know what's offensive? That I'm the second youngest of this cast and I have no idea what are you all talking about"

"She's not to be trusted" Pascal quips, "can't trust someone who doesn't appreciate the art of reality TV"

You huff, annoyed.

"Is it A&E stuff?" Pedro asks.

"Yeah, it's the competitive cheapskates" Fred answers. "It's people that really save money on everything"

Pedro gets the point because he mentioned the A&E bit.

"There's like this amazing guy that made a stew out of fish bones, and I just thought it was incredible" he shares. Then, moves to the next question. "What is my go-to crafty snack?"

Nobody remembers eating snacks on set, and Fred gives the clue that it's a drink. Joseph says it's a smoothie, and he does remember it but it isn't the answser.

"I'm thinking of something specific. That Emerge-C that you put in the water"

"Oh, that's very good" you agree, so does the rest, even discussing the best colors

"Who in the cast would I ask to bail me out of jail?"

Everyone even Pedro agree its him. Everyone gets a point, yet Joseph remains ahead.

It's Joseph's turn. "What is my favorite sport?"

"Skateboarding" Paul is so quick to answer, earning him two points for both being correct and time.

"What celebrity do I get mistaken for?"

"Daisy Edgar-Jones sometimes" says Mescal. Of course he had to bring her up.

"No, she gets mistaken for me" Joseph jokes. "Yeah, poor Daisy. But I'm writing it down"

"That was the two letters?" Pedro notices. Still, no one gets it.

It's fucking Justin Timberlake. You'd never guess that.

"What is my favorite film franchise?"

You've probaly named all the existing franchises to no avail. You think fo your dad, a huge geek, trying to remember if there is one missing.

"Oh- Lord of the Rings!" you both answer with Paul at the same time.

"C'mon!" his celebration is short lived when he realizes you tied to him.

"What is my favorite British slang word?"

Pedro says it can't be said, but Quinn insists they can, even adding it's his favorite one too.

"We can say bad words? We can say-?" but the camera beeps over it.

The answer is Bellend. What even is that? Joseph feigns sadness and Pedro keeps apologizing, even as you sit on the chair.

"Okay. I'm last"you wiggle your eyebrows with interest. "Let's see. Okay, first question: what did I take from the Gladiator II set?"

"You took something?" Joseph asks on disbelief.

"Why wouldn't I take something?"

"Is it like an item or memorabilia?" asks Connie.

"It's an item" you uncap the marker, scribbling down the answer.

"It's a short word" Fred points out, but still can't provide a guess.

"You took the rings home" Pedro answers. You snap your had on his way, probably obvious. "What? You told me" he says.

Of course Paul complains. "Hey, that isn't fair! He knew the answer before!"

"Well, if you payed more attention to me, you'd know it"

Lies. Pedro knows because it's sitting in the jewelry box inside your house.

"See? I do pay attention" Pedro playfully hits Mescal.

"I could pay you more attention" he looks at you.

"Alright, then do. Ready? Next question: what is my go-to movie? Oh, this is a good one. I'm always changing it, but most of the time I end up choosing the same one"

They all give you a puzzled look as you scribble.

"C'mon, guys! I've said it on interviews before too. Paul?" the man shrugs. "Thought you said you'd pay me more attention. Heads up, you're doing a terrible job so far!"

"Hey!" he protests. "It's not fair if the answer's changing. Give us a clue"

"You didn't give any clues to yours!" you giggle. "Besides, I don't want you to win"

"Hey, that's against the rules!"

"I'd say it depends on the season" Pedro speaks up. You quirk an eyebrow. "Like, if it's changing, I don't think your Christmas go-to movie is the same as your summer one"

"Actually" you smile fondly, "that is true. On summer, it's Mamma Mia. So I suppose, if you can't guess the one, that'll do"

"No" he smiles, cheeky. "I know it too"

"Yeah?" you challenge, "what is it, then?"

"It's Thelma and Louise" he answers, and your heart beats fast.

"How do you know?" Paul inquires. "Somebody was paying attention to Y/n L/n very closely during the shooting of this movie"

Ah, his joke from earlier. Joseph giggles behind him. Karma, he supposes.

"She said it on an interview, guys. C'mon, learn your sources!"

"Okay" you clear your throat. "What movie got me into acting?"

"Thelma and Louise" Joseph tries.

"No" you laugh, "you're just recycling the answer"

"Is it an old or modern movie?" Connie asks.

"Hmh, old" you pause, "just not... I don't know if you'll ever guess it"

"Is it a Pedro Almodóvar film?" you shake your head. "What? You're always mentioning him!"

Pedro looks into your eyes amid the others' discussion, and you can tell he remembers the conversation.

"There isn't one"

You smile, chest pounding at his soft tone.

"That's correct"

"A trick question?!" Paul yells. "I quit"

"When there's just one left?" you tease.

"Yes, because you've been hiding it all the time but no more" he counters, pointing both you and Pedro. You feel the space getting smaller, breaths going from even to noticeable. "You are sharing answers"

You try to make your breath of relief pass as a chuckle.

"I'm not even gonna win, relax. And drop the charges, please. Loose like a man"

"You didn't explain it though" Connie speaks. "What did Pedro mean?"

"While I have many movies that are inspiration to me, they aren't the reason I chose this path. I did it because I saw an Oscar's ceremony when I was 11" you explain fondly, feeling warm at the memories. "I still remember when they handed the award to Diablo Cody for best original screenplay. I don't know, man, it moved me. What it meant for young artists who came from nothing. I guess I wanted, one day, to be the one standing there, for other dreamers to see it's possible"

"Wow, that's beautiful" Connie says.

"Thank you" you get flustered. "Suppose it was worth it, you know, to do interviews about not really knowing my cast mates" and laugh.

"How does Pedro know, though?" Joseph asks.

"We talk a lot" you clear your throat. "Last one: what indie horror movie did I make a small appearence in? I'm feeling generous because it's the last so I'll give you a clue. It's a Stephen King adaptation"

Paul is the first to speak. "You where in a-"

"Yeah but it wasn't such a huge role. Don't make yourself any ideas"

"I have no idea" Connie surrenders. "Other clue, as in how many words?"

"It doesn't even have any words" you laugh. "You give up? It's 1922. Was an extra as well. Made me think Netflix had my name highlighted in the extra call sheet, because I did so many minor and background roles during that year. Grateful, though, because now I get to be Rome's empress and not fortune teller or highschool #6"

The interview ends, and the camera may or may have not captured the last seconds, Pedro's gaze fixated with you the entire time.

elysyannemimi: we all saw that right? GET PEDRO AND Y/N IN A ROMCOM ❗THEIR CHEMISTRY IS INSANE❗ at0michips: love paul and y/n so much 😭😭 gimme enemies to lovers RN ㅤㅤbobgirllll: at0michips wait what if paul and y/n are secretly dating 😳 ㅤㅤann-gell: bobgirllll quick question are u dumb unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they're married. it has to be. trust me ㅤㅤstarlightt180: unhing3dprincess BESTIE U ARE BACK

You arrived in London today. The premiere will be in a few days, and things have been, well, hectic.

Lux couldn't stop talking all the plane ride, but your mind kept going back at the email your manager had sent you before you had boarded the plane.

It's catching upon you, read the haunting message. Attached below, a TMZ article that claimed a regular church attendee had seen you both getting married. It also used a lot of the noise fans had been making on social media, connecting dots or just hyping up the undeniable chemistry. It ended with a little paragraph saying it was obvios, and they're just hoping you'd confirmed it.

You came to realize you didn't care about it anymore. Sure, the pushing around annoyed you, but the thought of still keeping your marriage under wraps feels pointless now. Why wouldn't you shout to the world how in love with your husband you are?

Yet, when you arrive at the hotel, you keep the same protocol of arriving after Pedro, who has already checked in with two keys, claiming its for him and his sister, while you ask for the key to Lux's actual room. After you swipe cards with her, you head over the room you'd be sharing with your husband.

His face appears in your frame, everything happening quickly.

"Get inside. Now"

Your body is dragged inside the hotel room, not even giving you time to swipe the key for yourself.

"Pedro!" you exclaim, between surprised and confused. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Did you read it?"

"What? The article?" your tone is filled with annoyance. "Yes, I did. Why?"

"What do you mean why?" he snaps, voice raising higher. "Don't play dumb with me. You know fans have fuelled the rumors, and tabloids have started digging every corner in fucking California"

"So, what? You're acting as if people finding out is the worst thing in the world" you roll your eyes.

"It is, yes!" Pedro bursts out, caving in to the stress.

It feels like you've been hit across your face.

"Excuse me?" you seethe, hurt etched all across your features. "Would it be the worst thing in the world to admit you're married to the person you supposedly love the most?"

"I love you, y/n. It's just-"

His voice softens, trying to reach for you, yet you pull back, his hand falling to his side in an akward manner. He sighs in frustration, running a hand through his hair as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"I love you" he repeats, sounding much more sure this time.

Your frame seems smaller as your voice comes out hoarse, filled with emotion, appearing to be in the brink of tears:

"Then why do you act like you're embarrassed of me?"

He hates himself for making you feel this way, making you think things that aren't true.

"I don't. Never" he emphasizes. Then, tries to reach once again when you move a little bit closer to him, recognizing that's your way of letting him know you're ready. "You're the most precious thing in the world to me, don't ever think the opposite" then he sighs, heavy. "I'm just scared"

You silently ask him to explain, rubbing his thumb soothingly across his tattoo.

"You're so young, and I'm, well- I know we're aware of it, but people are cruel and the press is ruthless. I don't want to see your name dragged across the mud because you decided to marry me. Your career is starting, and I'd never forgive myself is something happened to you because of me. Not trying to make this about me, yeah? But this industry is fucked up. You've work hard to get to where you are, and it'll be unfair if you'd loose it. I'm scared because us..." he wavers, words trailing off. "I want us to be. I wouldn't want to live in a world without you, i-it would kill me not to have you be my wife"

You desperately want to kiss off the worry on his face, but let him finish.

"N-not saying our love is weak, or anything! That a couple of opinions or tabloids will- you know? Just, I-I don't want them to break us apart. Mi vida, you're the light of my life. Please, forgive me, I-"

He feels his throat closing up, words failing to come out. You sense the grip on your hand to be stronger, immediately letting loose of it.

"Hey. C'mere" your voice is tender, allowing him to bury his face in your stomach as you comb his messy curls with your fingers. "It's okay, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere"

He lets himself melt under your touch, his mind loosing itself in the soft of your digits and your perfume up his nostrils. He's again breathing normaly, hands now hugging your waist.

"There you go. Better?" Pedro nods, still not being able to talk. "That's okay, take all the time you need. We have all day"

"Do we?" he raises his view, his eyes soft yet there is something else to the brown shade.

You hum as to nod. "We agreed to join Lux for dinner. It's barely 1pm"

"Tell me you're thinking it too" his voice cuts throughout the air, boucing off the tapestry on the walls.

You laugh, nervously. "I don't think I do"

"Hmmh, I see" he stands up, towering over you. "You sure you don't?"

"You sure you want this?"

Before you know it, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss, cutting off all words to be said. What a waste of air, anyway. You are quick to reciprocate, whimpering against his lips.

Pedro picks you up like you're as light as a feather, his arms flexing as he carries you and places you on the bed, frame hovering over yours. He breaks the kiss to breath, but you're pulling him back in, his hold on your hips tighter and the wet spot in your panties wetter.

"Look at you, pretty baby. So needy" he whispers against your face, hot breath lingering above your lips. "And mine. Mía. Only mine"

"I am, yes. Yours only. Need you so bad right now, papi" you answer in a rush. "Now shut up and fuck me"

"Con gusto" he chuckles darkly, "gotta keep the wife happy"

"Happy wife, happy life" you recite, stripping him off of his plain shirt, revealing his toned torso, bulging biceps defined by the movements. You gulp. "Fuck, papi. Gotta thank Marvel for this. I love all of your versions, but I can work with this too" you dreamily stare at him, your hands cupping his face.

He strips the rest of his clothing, but a cute blush adorns his cheeks.

"Yeah, well, it's Scott's fault too"

Your impatient fingers reach the middle of your panties to rub your clothed pussy, letting out a sound that darkens his hazel orbs.

"Fuck that guy" you mutter. Pedro laughs.

"Thought you said you loved the guy"

"Until I learned what he said about your body" you groan, still rubbing. "Connie told me"

His hands now travel to remove your clothes, almost ripping them off.

"Who cares? I just want to fuck you now" he breathes out, practically drooling at the sight of your damp panties. "Lemme take this off too"

He unhooks your bra, seeing the hard nipples. The urge to lick them is so bad, but his desire to fill you silly to the brim is stronger.

You see his hesitation, which is why you grab him by the neck to pull him in for a kiss. He kisses back fiercely, labored breaths as he struggles to focus on your lips, his wet mouth darting to your jaw, neck and collarbones. His hands roam all over your body, needy.

"Gotta be inside of you, mami. Can't wait any longer"

"Then stop waiting" you plead, tugging at his boxers with urgency.

Seeing you so cockhungry, lips parted and pupils blown wide makes his hard dick twitch with anticipation.

He mutters a labored fuck, aligning himself to enter your sticky folds. Pedro enters your tight pussy with a low groan, burying himself deep inside of you, used to his length by now. You're basically begging for it, nails digging and eyes supplicating.

He can't deny you anything, can he?

A messy whine leaves your widened mouth as you adjust, pleasure mixed with pain.

"Mhmm" you moan.

"Mhmm what?" he mocks. "You asked for it. Now take it, cariño"

He thrusts deeper into you, watching in awe how his dick enters your pussy; it was always perfectly, your pussy made for him.

"You're drippin' baby" his rough voice caresses your cheek. He kisses the are, giving a lick to the sweat starting to form. "S'fucking tight too"

You move your hips towards him, trying to augment the friction. The overstimulation starts to cloud your sense, reducing you to a whiny mess as you grip his steady arms.

"I can't think of anything but you, baby" he confesses between grunts, "filling up your pussy to the brim, you dripping with my seed for days"

You moan at the filthy words.

"Love how you take my dick, amor" stretching you as Pedro moves in and out. "S'made for me"

"Yes" you moan, skin slapping sounds bouncing off the walls. "Fuck, I love your dick..."

His pace picks up, and it comes to a point where he's just fucking you silly, his grip on your hips surely to leave a bruise as you keep spilling obscene sounds of pleasure from your lips.

"Your pussy's mine, yeah? No one else gets to have you like this"

"N-no, just you, Pedro. My h-husband" you manage to squeeze, more moans vocalizing the pleasure you felt with each thrust, his big dick inside of you moving in a a steady rhythm, making your eyes roll back further and orgasm closer.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, and he finds impossible to resist the urge anymore, licking the sensible skin and hard nipples, your hands moving to his back, scratching him harshly, both chasing your release.

"Please!" you whine out loud, not caring how desperate you sound.

Harder. Faster. Rougher.

But your husband knows you, so he indeed starts to fuck you harder, heavy breaths and slippy kiss noises hanging in the spaces between each thrusts. He pants with every motion of his dick, a knot forming on his belly.

"Shit, baby. I think I'm gonna cum. Gonna come so hard"

"Do it. I'm on birth control, remember?" you groan, feeling your high approach as well. "Fill me up, please. Give me all your cum"

Your bodies move as one, precise thrusts hitting exactly that sweet spot of yours repeatedly, chasing your orgasm. For a brief moment, your eyes lock with his and then he's saying:

"I love you, y/n. So much"

Your heart skips a bit, his dick twitching inside as his gaze glimmers with adoration and possesiveness, teeth grazing your skin with marks for him to call you his.

"I love you too, Pedro. More than you know"

A final thrust is delivered. Fuck, feels so good you think you hear him say. Just like promised, he fills you with his release, shots of his thick, warm cum inside your sticky walls. You follow soon, back arching, toes curling, and both head and eyes rolling back. Pedro falls on top of you, his broad body collapsing over yours, as you both pant hard, trying to steady your pulse and breath. He then removes himself and positions you to be the one on top now, lazily throwing the covers over your bare bodies. We need to shower, you said, but he argued you'd do it later before going out.

"I needed that" and you happily hum in agreement at your husband's dragged out words.

Your head falls and rises, with the movement of his chest, silence settling on the previously filled with sex noises room. That until he speaks up:

"One day, I'm gonna fill you up so good until you have my babies, mami" he murmurs, just then realizing what he said. But you snuggle closer, hand and legs drapped over his bare body. You look at him closely, seeing nothing but certainty on his eyes.

I choose you. I'll always choose you.

"Whatever it is with you" your nose brushes his, a small sweet kiss on his lips, "I want"

His eyes shine, probably with tears or the glow of affection.

"Let's do it"

"What?" you look into his eyes for any sign of doubt, bull all you see is love. "Pedro, are you serious?"

He nods. "Wouldn't you want that?"

You feel the corner of your lips pull up.

"Never have I wanted anything more"

poppysplayground: Y/N AND PEDRO RED CARPET DEBUT AT THE LONDON PREMIER OF GLADIATOR II WTF I JUST WOKE UP ptwt is in SHAMBLES mostannoyingbillioner: UM HELLO pedro showing up with two hot women on his arms LUX GIMME A CHANCE pompeiianbollockr: WAIT WDYM THEY ARE MARRIED?!??! ALL THIS TIME?@?#? HOW???! NEED BIGGER CAPS TO SCREAM I'M GOING INSANE at0michips: that article better come out now or i'll burn the TMZ building ann-gell: not me thirsting for a married man 😭😭😭 how they kept this a secret for so long?? we should've noticed ㅤㅤunhing3dprincess: ann-gell i did. knew betting my grandma was the way all along ㅤㅤpyramiidsf: i'm gonna start betting my grandma too

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @trashcora

[justarkive]

TABLE 3 | JJK ch23

*.°* pairing: pre!military jk x waitress/secret fuckbuddy!oc

"For good service, and cute waitresses."

warnings: smut, alc consumption, fluff, profanity, angst, humour, fluff, celebrity au, idolljungkook, mentions of other kpop groups/idols, inner conflict, insecurity.

smut warnings: explicit smut again (ur welcome ) DRUNK SEX. they fuck in naris bed lol, protected sex, he dry humps ur face, throatfucking, dirty talk like its filth. HES SO DESPERATE AND HORNY. nipple play, clit play, f + m receiving oral, cnc undertones but not rlly just him being like “ let me use u “ lol, breath play kinda, missionary, mating press ? idk , kissing, hickeys, holding hands while they fuck <3, riding, thats it i think. nari sees his bare ass in the morning?? idk. he fucks ur tits

wc: longggg

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

*.°* taglist: @jenniebyrubies @dreamersparacosm @darklove2020 @rayyrayy10 @elinaki92 @alana4610 @bjoriis @kaitieskidmore97 @cuntessaiii

masterlist | < prev, next >

You wake up with a jolt.

Your heart is pounding, your brain immediately in work mode, and before you can even process what’s happening, you’re already out of bed, scrambling to get ready.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You were supposed to be at work. You grab your phone, your hands shaking as you fumble to dial Nari’s number. She doesn’t pick up. You call again. And again. And again.

Finally—

“Hello?!” Nari groans, her voice hoarse with sleep.

“Are you not getting up for work?!” you yell, yanking open your closet in a frenzy.

Silence. “Are you joking?”

You blink. “What?”

“It’s. Our. Day. Off.”

Your hand freezes mid-reach. “No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

You open your mouth to argue—but then, suddenly, it hits you. Your boss.

Your overly dramatic, forgetful boss. Your boss who insisted yesterday that you and Nari were supposed to be in, even though you both had the day off.

“Oh my god.”

Nari sighs dramatically. “You actually got ready, didn’t you?”

You glance at yourself in the mirror. Fully dressed. Hair brushed. Bag packed. You groan, dropping onto your bed. “I hate him.”

Nari snorts. “You just woke me up for no reason.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I panicked.”

Nari yawns. “Mmm. Anyway, now that I’m up, spill.”

You furrow your brows. “Spill what?”

“The date, idiot.”

Oh. Right.

Your heart stumbles a little at the memory. The beach. The way Jungkook looked at you. The way he kissed you. The way he loved you.

Your silence makes Nari shriek. “OH MY GOD, WHAT HAPPENED?! TELL ME EVERYTHING.”

You roll onto your stomach, a slow smile creeping onto your face. “Well…”

And then, you tell her. Everything. From Jungkook surprising you, to the ridiculous phone call with your boss, to falling asleep in the car, to the entire beach trip—the teasing, the laughing, the photos, the splashing, the confession. When you get to the part where Jungkook said he loved you, properly this time, Nari screams.

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! I FUCKING KNEW IT!”

You pull the phone away from your ear, wincing. “Calm down.”

“No.”

You hear her rustling around, probably kicking her blankets off in excitement. “So what now? Are you guys just back together? What’s happening?!”

You hesitate. Because the truth is—you don’t know. You don’t know what happens after this. You don’t know what happens in a week when he’s gone. All you know is that you love him. And he loves you. And for now, that has to be enough.

“…We’re just making the week count,” you finally say.

Nari softens. “That’s all you can do, huh?”

You nod, even though she can’t see you. “Yeah.”

A small pause. Then— “So… did you guys fuck?”

You groan, hanging up on her.

You finish making your bed, finally settling into the day after the whole work panic fiasco. Now in the shower, you realize that you actually have nothing to do until Jungkook is free.

And he said he was going to be busy all day. With what, exactly, you’re not sure. As if on cue, your phone starts ringing.

You glance at it from the shower, Jungkook. Right as you’re in the middle of shampooing your hair.

Your eyes widen. “Shit.”

You reach for the phone, hands still soapy, and it immediately starts slipping. You try to grab it, but it bounces out of your fingers and onto the floor with a loud thunk.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

You bend down, water streaming from your hair, dripping onto the floor as you finally manage to press answer. “Hello?”

A pause. Then— “…Why do you sound out of breath?”

You groan, pushing your wet hair out of your face. “Because I literally just—ugh, never mind. What do you want?”

Jungkook chuckles on the other end, hearing the shower. “Oh, you miss me that much?”

You roll your eyes, stepping back into the shower, placing your phone on the ledge praying to God that your phone doesn’t get wet. “Says the one who called me.”

“I do miss you, actually.” His voice is casual, but there’s something in his tone that makes your stomach flip.

You clear your throat, pretending like that didn’t affect you. “Busy until five, right? With what?”

He hums. “Meetings. A lot of them. I don’t even wanna talk about it.”

You lean your head back, rinsing the shampoo out of your hair. “Sounds rough.”

“Yeah.”

A pause. Then— “I… was gonna get my hair cut off today.”

Your eyes shoot open. “What?!”

Jungkook laughs at your reaction. “Yeah, but I think I’ll skip it.”

You frown, squeezing some conditioner into your palm. “No, go, if you need to.”

“…You don’t want me to, though.”

You hesitate. “I mean, I will miss your hair.”

Jungkook smirks. You can hear it. “I still look good, though, right?”

You scoff. “You know you do, shut up.”

His laugh is soft. “Yeah, yeah.”

You close your eyes, relaxing under the warm water. “Where are you right now?”

“The gym.”

Your brows raise. “Oh? And you’re calling me mid-workout?”

“Yeah,” he says, casual. “I missed you, so I figured, why not?”

Your breath catches for a second.

Then, you glance at yourself—butt ass naked, standing in the middle of the shower, talking to a wet phone, water and soap everywhere. You must look so stupid. But despite it all, you can’t help but smile.

You stay on the phone with him the entire time.

Even after you step out of the shower, still towel-wrapped, rubbing lotion into your skin. Even when you move to the sink, balancing your phone between your shoulder and your cheek as you do your skincare. And even when you finally throw on some clothes and wander into the kitchen, eyeing whatever leftovers are in the fridge for breakfast.

Jungkook is just there. A constant, easy presence, talking to you between breaths as he finishes up at the gym. “So you’re eating cold pasta for breakfast?” he asks at one point, amusement clear in his voice.

You scowl, shoving a bite into your mouth. “Mind your business.”

He laughs.

And for some reason, it feels so normal. Like you’re in the same room. Like he’s not actually miles away, probably drenched in sweat in his gym while you sit cross-legged at your dining table in a hoodie and sleep shorts, munching on cold spaghetti.

Neither of you ever really hang up. The conversation just flows—from what you’re watching on Netflix to his gym routine to how your boss made you think that you were in work today because that man has some serious memory issues.

And then—

“Alright,” Jungkook sighs, “I gotta go.”

You frown. “Meeting?”

“Yeah,” he groans. “Kill me now.”

You snort. “Good luck.”

Jungkook grumbles something under his breath.

Then— “See you later?”

You pause, twirling your fork between your fingers. “I thought you were busy until five?”

“I am,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “But after?”

You bite your lip to keep from smiling. “We’ll see.”

Jungkook scoffs. “We’ll see—okay, I see how it is.”

You giggle. “Bye, Jungkook.”

He clicks his tongue. “Bye, baby.”

The call ends.

And you’re just sitting there, staring at your phone, trying really hard not to grin like an idiot.

The rest of your morning passes in a blur.

You clean up a little—fluff the pillows on your couch, fold the blanket you abandoned last night, wipe down the kitchen counters even though they weren’t really dirty to begin with. Anything to pass the time.

You send Nari a quick text somewhere in between.

You [10:30 AM]: What are you doing later?

Nari [10:31 AM]: Recovering from my pickle withdrawal.

You [10:32 AM]: …what?

Nari [10:33 AM]: YOU LEFT ME TO SUFFER ALONE YESTERDAY.

You [10:34 AM]: Oh my god.

Nari [10:35 AM]: I had to get my own pickles. I nearly DIED.

You [10:35 AM]: Nari.

Nari [10:35 AM]: Anyways, what do you want?

You roll your eyes, quickly typing your actual question.

You [10:36AM]: If Jungkook and I have no plans, can we come to yours?

Nari takes her sweet time replying, but when she does—

Nari [10:40 AM]: Ew.

Nari [10:40 AM]: But fine.

At the same time, a new text pops up from Jungkook.

Jungkook [10:41 AM]: What do you wanna do later?

Jungkook [10:41 AM]: Not gonna lie, I don’t really have anything planned.

You smirk, typing back.

You [10:42 AM]: yk anymore of those scenic ass spots you always take me to?

His response is immediate.

Jungkook [10:43 AM]: nah, not today unfortunately.

You raise an eyebrow.

You [10:44 AM]: Wow, okay fine. I’ll ask Nari.

Nari’s ew is still at the top of your chat, which makes you laugh as you text her again.

You [10:45 AM]: He rejected my idea, so I’m rejecting him. We’re coming to yours later.

Nari [10:45 AM]: Omg ew.

Nari [10:45 AM]: But fine.

Satisfied, you send a final message to Jungkook.

You [10:45 AM]: Nari said we can go to hers later.

Jungkook [10:46 AM]: I’m kinda scared. What if she slaps me again?

You [10:47 AM]: Don’t worry, I’ll make her apologize.

Jungkook [10:48 AM]: You will?

You [10:49 AM]: Yes, but she won’t mean it.

Jungkook [10:50 AM]: Figured.

You grin.

Nari never apologizes to any man, but she’ll do it for you, and you both know it. Even though you don’t really care. Even though you think Jungkook doesn’t really care either.

But still.

It’s funny.

You put your phone down, running your fingers through your hair as you exhale. You don’t even realize how much you’ve been checking the time—glancing toward the clock every few minutes, wondering when he’ll text you again.

And then, at some point in the afternoon:

Jungkook [5:11 PM]: omw, love u.

You barely take a second before you jump up, scrambling to throw something on, a little too eager.

And now, all you can do— Is wait.

Jungkook takes longer than usual. Long enough for you to check your phone, frown, and wonder if he forgot about you entirely.

But then— There’s a knock at your door.

When you swing it open, you’re met with a slightly out-of-breath Jungkook, his hair a little messy, dirt smudged on his jeans. And a bouquet of fresh daisies in his hands.

You blink.

“What kind of time is this, sir?”

“Shut up,” he mutters, shifting on his feet. “I was busy.”

You cross your arms, gaze dropping to his knees, where the evidence is literally there. “Yeah, I can tell, judging by the dirt on your knees.”

“Hey—supermarket ones are shit,” he argues, straightening up.

Your eyes flick toward the vase near the window—the daisies from…last time, the ones Nari had forced him to buy. They’re completely dead. “…True.”

Jungkook just smirks, watching as you quickly grab your bag, and before stepping out, you snatch a bottle of wine from your counter. He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so it’s that type of night?”

You smirk back. “Let’s go.”

The drive to Nari’s place isn’t long. It starts with you giving Jungkook the address, and for the most part, the car ride is quiet—aside from the occasional sound of you scrolling through your phone, catching up on the nonsense Nari’s been sending you.

But after a few minutes, you notice Jungkook’s grip on the wheel is a little too tight. His brows are furrowed, and even though his eyes are on the road, he looks like he’s somewhere else entirely.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

Jungkook exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “It’s nothing.”

You tilt your head, unconvinced. “Jungkook.”

He hesitates. Then— “I don’t know. I just feel like Nari hates me.”

You blink. “What? Why?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know. I mean, I know she’s your best friend and all, but she was just being really…”

You wait for the insult—rude, horrible, unbearable—but instead, he mutters:

”…mean.”

Your heart clenches a little. It’s almost childish the way he says it, but that somehow makes it even sadder.

You sigh. “I know, she can be a bit much sometimes.”

“Yeah,” he says, jaw tightening. “Honestly, I know I deserved a lot of the things she did to me. But it was confusing, because she would always act like she hated me in front of you. And then, before I came to yours the other day—from the field, when me and her ran into each other—I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “She gave in. Like, she wasn’t mean then.”

You frown, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “We’ll talk to her about it, then.”

Jungkook’s eyes flick to you briefly before widening. “What? No. I don’t—No, I don’t have to.”

You squeeze his hand again, firmer this time. “No, honestly. Talk to her about it. She won’t bite.”

Jungkook groans. “Mmm. Debatable.”

You giggle. “She won’t.”

He exhales, shoulders slumping. “Okay. Maybe I will.”

You give his hand one last squeeze before letting go.

When you arrive, you barely have to knock before the door swings open. Nari stands there, arms crossed, sending daggers through Jungkook with her eyes.

Jungkook hesitates.

You sigh, reaching for his hand and tugging him inside before he can cowardly retreat.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. Nari huffs. “Fine. I’m sorry for slapping you.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes. “…You don’t sound very sorry.”

“Well, I’m not.”

You snort.

Jungkook sighs. “I figured.”

Then— “But.”

Nari pauses, rolling her lips together before exhaling. “I guess I could’ve—maybe—toned it down. A little.”

Jungkook raises a brow. “A little?”

Nari glares. “Don’t push it.”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing.

Jungkook exhales, shaking his head. “Look. I get it. I know I fucked up really bad. And maybe I deserved some of it.”

Nari’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t interrupt.

“But I don’t know,” he mutters, staring at the floor. “Sometimes it just feels like… no matter what I do, you’ll always hate me now.”

Nari’s lips part. She looks at you, then back at him.

And for the first time, she actually looks unsure.

“Wait,” she says slowly. “Are you… being serious right now?”

Jungkook huffs a humorless laugh. “Forget it.”

“No, Jungkook,” you interject, squeezing his arm. “If you feel that way, you should say it.”

Jungkook’s jaw tenses, like he’s considering brushing it off, but when you give him a small nod, he swallows hard and keeps going.

“I mean it,” he mutters. “I appreciate what you did for her. And for me. Stopping me from driving drunk , helping me when you didn’t have to…” He winces slightly. “Honestly, I probably wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

Nari stiffens, her fingers curling slightly at her sides.

Jungkook shakes his head. “I just—” He exhales roughly, frustration evident in his features. “You made me feel like I was doing everything wrong. And I was. But… I don’t know.”

Nari’s eyes widen slightly.

The weight behind his words finally sinks in.

Her expression softens, guilt creeping into her features. “Jungkook…” She hesitates. “I— I don’t hate you. I never have. It’s just…” She rubs her temple. “She’s my best friend. And I saw what you did to her. You expect me to just—what? Sit back and let it happen?”

Jungkook’s throat bobs. “No. I don’t. I just…” His voice drops, almost hesitant. “I just don’t want her to think I’m not trying.”

Nari exhales through her nose.

Then—

“I know you’re trying,” she admits. “And maybe I push too hard sometimes. Maybe I was too mean. I crossed the line… I’m sorry.”

You blink.

Jungkook blinks.

Nari shifts uncomfortably. “What? I can apologize.”

Jungkook eyes her suspiciously. “Since when?”

She groans. “Oh, my God—take it or leave it.”

Jungkook lets out a small chuckle, shaking his head.

You smile.

It’s progress.

——

“Did you bring the wine?” Nari asks, perking up.

“Duh.” Jungkook watches in amusement as you hold up the bottle like it’s some prized possession, but before you can walk further into the apartment—

You pause. Your eyes land on the kitchen shelf.

And your jaw drops.

“Nari—”

She follows your gaze, then shrugs. “What?”

“Nari. This is insane.”

Jungkook leans over your shoulder, finally noticing what you’re talking about.

The kitchen shelf is fully stocked with rows of—

Pickles.

Jungkook bursts out laughing.

“Bro, I was gonna die,” Nari says, so casual about it.

“No, no—this is psychotic behavior,” you argue, pointing at the sheer amount of jars. “This looks like you’re prepping for the apocalypse.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

Jungkook is wheezing.

You just shake your head, but Nari is already walking off, waving for you both to follow.

“Whatever, come on.”

Jungkook is still chuckling as you all settle into the living room. Nari—as always—immediately sits on the floor. You and Jungkook take the floor couch.

“So,” Nari says, grabbing the remote. “What should we watch?”

“Anything,” Jungkook says.

You all settle down, and as Nari flicks through the remote, she lands on some shitty comedy show she knows none of you will actually watch. She gives it a second, but she’s already distracted, grabbing the wine bottle from the table.

“Damn Nari, What’s been on your mind?” you ask, watching as Nari fills her glass without hesitation.

She shrugs nonchalantly, looking like she’s putting up a front. “Oh, nothing.” But, as always, Nari can’t keep her thoughts to herself for long.

“Okay, but seriously,” she adds, almost whining, “This guy from the club—he literally rejected me, and I’m just like—what the hell? Like, I looked good. So how is it possible?”

You fake gasp dramatically. “How could he?” you tease. “What a disaster.”

“Shut up,” Nari grumbles, rolling her eyes, trying to act indifferent but still clearly irritated.

You push, though. “No, seriously, you’re hot. You need to get a man.”

Nari throws her head back, mockingly groaning. “Stop shoving it in my face, okay?”

Jungkook, watching the scene unfold, can’t help but grin. “Come on, Nari, settle down.”

Nari shoots him a glare but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she finishes the wine glass a little too quickly. You notice her posture change, and her mood turns from sarcastic to a bit quieter.

The wine hits her too fast.

(Though it’s Nari, and she’d get drunk off of a drop of damn beer.)

And suddenly, she starts sniffling, trying to hide it behind a sarcastic smile. “I swear to God, I just want to be loved,” she mutters, then immediately bursts into a fit of exaggerated, drunken tears.

You and Jungkook exchange a look, both of you equally surprised but not quite sure how to react.

You move over to Nari, rubbing her back. “Nari, hey… you are loved.”

She waves it off, still sniffling but pretending to be fine. “I don’t even know what I’m saying,” she hiccups. “I’m just so lonely—”

Jungkook sits back, watching, unable to look away, his eyes softening at the sight of her, though there’s something else in his expression too—maybe a little amused, maybe just seeing through her sarcasm.

“You’re not alone, Nari,” Jungkook adds, his voice gentle. “Come on, stop playing tough. We’re here, you know?”

But Nari, in her drunken state, ignores the sincerity, still wiping her eyes dramatically. She suddenly looks up at the two of you, glancing back and forth. “Oh my God, can you two just get out?”

You and Jungkook look at each other, trying to stifle your smiles. The moment’s too genuine for either of you to ignore, but you can’t help but laugh softly, both secretly wishing Nari wasn’t such a mess—but also thankful for this small, unspoken moment between the three of you.

The night then dissolves into pure chaos.

Nari is on the damn table now, hair wild, jar of pickles in one hand, the remote in the other, belting out some song off-key like it’s her solo concert.

Meanwhile, you and Jungkook? Absolutely shameless. He’s got you in his lap, hands running up and down your waist, his lips on yours like he physically can’t not be kissing you. It’s all heat, all laughter between kisses, the world spinning in the best way possible.

Nari, mid-spin, suddenly launches a pillow straight at your head. “Oh my God, stop being so horny and get up and dance, losers!”

You groan, laughing, and Jungkook just grins against your mouth before pulling you up. “Fine, fine,” you slur, barely able to balance, and then suddenly you’re just dancing.

Jungkook joins in, badly. He’s spinning you, stepping on your feet, and he doesn’t care. At one point, he starts screaming lyrics to a song he definitely does not know the words to, and it’s so fucking stupid that you nearly collapse in laughter.

The three of you—drunk, delirious, alive. move around Nari’s apartment like a hurricane. And then—

Blackout.

You don’t even realize when or how it happens.

But suddenly, you’re out, curled up somewhere on the floor, head resting on something—probably Jungkook, because you feel warmth, his familiar scent. Nari is knocked out cold, sprawled in the middle of the living room with one arm still gripping the pickle jar.

The apartment is a complete mess.

Hours pass in a blur.

At some point in the night, you stir, barely conscious, when you feel someone shifting.

Then—Jungkook.

You feel his hands, his warmth, gently tugging at you, pulling you closer, before he’s wrapping himself around you like he can’t sleep unless he’s holding you.

It’s peaceful.

Until, sometime later—

Soft fingers trail up your arm, his warmth disappearing for a split second before you feel him pulling you up.

You groggily blink. “Jungkook?” you whisper, voice hoarse, the alcohol still thick in your system.

He’s kneeling beside you now, his touch light but insistent as he tugs at your wrist.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, his voice low, breath fanning over your cheek.

“What are you doing?” you whisper-shout, still half-asleep.

You glance over—Nari is passed the fuck out on the floor, her mouth slightly open, not even stirring.

Jungkook doesn’t answer. Just takes your hand, his grip firm, leading you toward a room he guesses is Naris, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispers— “I need you.”

And then—

You barely make it through Nari’s bedroom door before Jungkook is on you again, lips crashing against yours, hands slipping under your shirt like he physically needs to feel you.

But then—

He stops.

Mid-kiss, he pauses, eyes suddenly flicking around the room, taking in the absolute chaos that is Nari’s decor.

“Do you guys not know anything about minimalism?” he blurts out, genuinely baffled.

You groan, trying to pull him back in, but he’s too distracted now, blinking around at the explosion of pink, the cluttered shelves overflowing with old concert tickets, framed memes, and an alarming number of stuffed pickles—half of which are just straight-up staring at you both.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, eyes landing on a hot pink lamp shaped like a cat. “What the fuck is that?”

“Jungkook,” you whine, trying to recapture his attention, tugging him back down to you. “Focus.”

He blinks at you, then back at the room. “I’m just saying, this is crazy. Your room is bad, but this? This is next level.”

“Jungkook.”

“Okay, okay, I’m done.” He finally grins, shaking his head as he presses his forehead against yours. “But seriously, this is insane.”

You roll your eyes, and then—

Jungkook’s lips are back on yours, his focus finally shifting away from Nari’s absolutely chaotic room.

His hands grip your waist, firm and possessive, guiding you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. You let out a surprised squeal as you fall onto the mattress, the sudden movement making you giggle against his lips, and then—

He’s on you.

His body presses over yours, sinking you deeper into the sheets, kissing you like he’s starving, like he’s trying to drink you in. The alcohol is still buzzing in your system, making every touch feel heightened, every brush of his lips hotter, sloppier, messier.

It’s desperate, the way your hands move over each other—his fingers slipping under the hem of your hoodie, your own hands threading into his hair, tugging him closer, as if he isn’t already pressing every inch of himself against you.

He groans against your lips, but then—

He pulls back.

You blink up at him, breathless, lips swollen, waiting for him to say something devastatingly sexy.

Instead—

“I don’t know if I can get hard in this weird-ass room,” he mutters, eyes flicking toward the corner. “Those pickles are just—staring.”

You gape at him, then burst out laughing, shoving weakly at his chest. “Jungkook, shut up.”

“I’m serious.” His voice is half amused, half genuinely disturbed. “Why does she have so many? And why do they all have faces?”

“Jungkook.” You tug him back to your lips, giggling against his mouth.

He finally gives in, kissing you again, but now you can feel his grin against your lips, amused and stupidly endearing.

And then, you tilt your head back, offering your neck. Jungkook takes the invitation instantly.

His mouth latches onto your throat, kissing down the column of your neck, messy and wet, his teeth scraping against your pulse point before his tongue soothes over the spot. The contrast makes you shudder beneath him, fingers curling against his shoulders.

And then he’s tugging at your hoodie, yanking it up with impatient hands.

“Off,” he grunts, voice rough, already pulling it over your head before you can even process it.

The second it’s gone, his lips are back on you, trailing down your collarbone, across the swell of your chest, all while his hands roam—gripping, kneading, touching you like he’s mapping out every inch of skin he can get his hands on.

It’s desperate.

It’s messy.

And god, it’s so fucking good.

You’re clawing at his shirt, fingers fisting into the fabric, trying to yank it down in your eagerness.

Jungkook just smirks.

“I don’t think that’s doing anything, baby,” he teases, keeping his hands lazily at his sides, making no effort to help. “Other way.”

You whine in frustration, tugging the hem up this time, and he just watches you struggle for a second, clearly enjoying himself, before he finally gives in—chuckling as he helps you pull it over his head.

The moment it’s off, he’s on you again.

He crawls over you, slow and deliberate, caging you beneath him, and it’s so fucking hot. The way his muscles shift as he moves, the way his eyes darken as he takes you in—all of it makes heat pool low in your stomach.

Then he kisses you again, deeper, messier, like he needs to.

You’re biting at his lip now, dragging out these desperate little groans from his throat, making his hips stutter against yours. At one point, you’re not even really kissing anymore—just panting into each other’s mouths, trading moans and gasps like it’s the only thing keeping you breathing.

And then—

Jungkook shifts again, his body sliding up, and suddenly, his bulge is right in front of your face.

You blink, lips parting slightly.

His gray boxers are already tented, the thick outline of him pressing against the fabric, and before you can even process the absolute audacity of what’s happening, he grinds against your cheek.

Your breath catches.

It’s ridiculous.

And yet, somehow, impossibly—

It’s hot.

Because it’s Jungkook.

And because you can hear the way his breath stutters, see the way his stomach tenses at the friction, feel the heat of him through the thin fabric.

You don’t even know what you’re doing—haven’t ever done this before—but something about it makes arousal burn deep in your stomach, makes your thighs press together as your hands instinctively find his hips.

Jungkook groans above you, rolling his hips a little harder, his head tipping back.

“Fuck,” he pants. “That’s—oh my god.”

You don’t even have time to feel shy about it.

Because the way he’s reacting—the way he’s gripping the headboard now, chest heaving, the muscles in his arms flexing as he ruts against your face—makes you feel drunk on him, on the power of it.

And the worst part?

You still need him closer.

Jungkook doesn’t stop.

If anything, he gets worse.

He keeps grinding against your face, his clothed bulge dragging over your nose, your lips, his hips moving slow and controlled before rolling harder, deeper. And you let him—let your mouth relax, lips parting just slightly as his cock presses against your cheek.

Your whole body is reacting to it. Your toes curl, your thighs press together, and every roll of his hips makes your stomach clench tighter.

Above you, Jungkook is panting, his breath uneven, his hands gripping the headboard like he needs to hold on to something.

“Fuck—” he groans, looking down past his own chest to the sight below him. And the sight is unhinged—your wide, glassy eyes peeking up at him, his cock grinding against the softness of your lips, your nose, the curve of your cheek.

He nearly loses it.

“Shit, baby,” he pants, rolling his hips harder. “You have no idea what this looks like.”

His voice is wrecked, thick with arousal and whatever haze of alcohol is still left in his system.

You moan against him, mouth opening just a little more, the heat of your breath sinking through his boxers. Jungkook curses sharply. “God—keep doing that, yeah? Fuck, just like that.”

His grip tightens on the headboard, his whole body trembling. He’s never done this before—never even thought about doing this before—but now that it’s happening, now that he sees it, feels it, he doesn’t know why he hasn’t lost his mind over it sooner.

The warmth of your breath, the way your lips accidentally brush his clothed length, the wet heat seeping through the fabric—it’s making him spiral.

He’s groaning, moaning, whispering things that sound like your name, sounds like fucking hell, baby, you’re gonna kill me and so fucking pretty like this, let me just use you a little more, yeah?

He wants to stay like this forever—wants to keep rutting against you, wants to watch himself grind against your slack mouth until he comes all over your face.

And then he realizes—

He’s too close.

A few more strokes, and he’ll actually—

Jungkook curses, pulling away with a sharp inhale, a final hard grind that has you scowling up at him.

“Jungkook.” Your glare is deadly.

He just huffs out a breathless, wrecked laugh, pressing a messy kiss to your nose.

“Sorry, baby,” he murmurs, though he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

Jungkook pulls his boxers off completely, kicking them away carelessly, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. He grips his length in one hand, giving it a lazy flick upwards, watching it bounce back down. His cock is flushed, leaking, and he looks wrecked, pupils blown out with nothing but lust.

And you—

You stare.

Your mouth goes dry, your whole body tensing in anticipation. You already know what he’s about to do. “Lay back down,” he rasps, voice hoarse.

Your eyes widen. He’s going to do it.

He’s going to throat-fuck you in the exact same position he was just grinding on you.

Heat floods through you, and you’re already moving before you can think, lying back down as Jungkook shifts over you, bracing himself on his knees. But before he can position himself at your mouth, something catches his eye.

Your tits.

A sharp inhale. A pause. And then—

He grins, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Oh, fuck. Why haven’t we done this before?” he murmurs, voice dark with realization.

Then he spits.

It lands right between your breasts, warm and wet, sliding down the curve of your skin. Before you can even react, he presses his cock between them, pushing them together with his hands, and starts thrusting.

The weight of him, the warmth of him, the slick heat of his pre-cum mixing with his spit—it makes your head spin.

Jungkook groans, throwing his head back, his abs tightening with each thrust. “Fuck—this is so hot,” he pants, eyes flickering down to watch himself slide between your breasts. His cock drags against your skin, his tip rubbing over your stiff nipples, catching slightly with every roll of his hips.

You moan, a soft, breathy sound, and he feels it—feels the way your body reacts, the way your chest heaves as pleasure courses through you just from this.

“Shit—” He curses, giving a few more thrusts before reluctantly pulling away, dragging the swollen head of his cock up, tracing over your collarbone, then tapping it against your lips.

“Gotta be inside you, baby,” he breathes, moving back up, his knees caging in your head.

His cock is right in front of your face now, flushed and wet, leaking for you. And then—slowly—he pushes in.

The stretch makes your jaw ache instantly, but you don’t care. You love this. You love the way he takes, the way he gives at the same time, his hands cradling your jaw as his hips start to roll, pushing himself deeper, deeper—until he’s fucking your mouth the way he was fucking your tits, the way he was grinding against your face just minutes ago.

Jungkook groans—deep, wrecked, desperate.

“Holy fuck, babe—”

And you?

You’re in heaven.

Jungkook’s mouth is filthy.

He’s letting loose the dirtiest shit you’ve ever heard—things that would have made you blush if you weren’t already so far gone, so completely ruined under him.

“Look at you,” he groans, voice ragged. “Fucking taking me like this—so good for me, baby. Always so fucking good.”

His hips roll faster, the wet drag of his cock sliding over your tongue sending shivers through you. Your jaw aches, your throat is burning, but you love it. You love the way he fucks your mouth like he owns it, like he needs it just to survive.

And it’s too much.

Your thighs fall open, hands slipping under your underwear, fingers immediately rubbing your clit in messy, desperate circles. You whimper at the feeling, at the sharp jolt of pleasure that rockets through you, and it sends vibrations down Jungkook’s length.

He feels it.

And when he turns his head just slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of you touching yourself while taking him so deep—

“Oh, fuck yes,” he groans, his head lolling back. “That’s it, baby. Keep going—fuck, keep playing with that pretty little pussy for me.”

His fingers tighten in your hair, his thrusts growing rougher, messier. The room is filled with obscene, wet sounds—the slick, filthy noise of your mouth taking him, the soft squelch of your fingers rubbing your clit, the way he groans above you, completely unhinged.

It’s dirty. It’s filthy. It’s desperate.

And then—he plants his feet flat on the bed.

You barely have a second to process it before he tightens his grip on your head, pulling you flush against him, and—

Jackhammers.

“Oh fuck—”

Your vision blurs. His cock slams into your throat, over and over, his balls pressing against your chin, the heat of him so overwhelming you can barely think. Your throat burns, but you don’t care, you love it, and the noises spilling from him above you make it all worth it.

“God—shit, baby,” he moans, voice wrecked. “Taking it so deep, look at you—look at you, letting me use you like this.”

You can barely keep your eyes open, but you feel his gaze burning down at you.

“Shit—so perfect for me, you love this, don’t you? Love being my pretty little slut—”

A deep, broken groan rips through him, and his thrusts stutter for a second, his hands trembling as he holds you there, keeps you full of him.

He’s falling apart.

You’re drowning in it.

Jungkook pulls out suddenly, and you gasp, choking on the rush of air that floods your lungs. Your throat is raw, lips swollen, drool spilling down your chin, and for a split second, you think he’s giving you a break.

But then—

He shoves back in.

You barely have time to react before he does it again—pulling out just long enough to let you catch half a breath before pushing back in, stuffing your mouth full of him. It’s relentless, dizzying, the way he keeps you gasping, keeps you needing—

And then he starts talking.

Between each brutal thrust, he punctuates his words with the force of his cock sliding deep into your throat.

“Keep—” thrust

“Fucking—” thrust

“Taking—” thrust

“It—” thrust

And then, on the last word, he pulls out completely.

You collapse against the sheets, gasping for air, chest heaving, thighs trembling.

But Jungkook doesn’t even let you breathe.

His mouth crashes onto yours, swallowing your ragged breaths, kissing you with so much force, so much desperation, you feel like you might actually melt into him. His tongue licks into your mouth, deep and messy, and all you can do is whimper, already aching for him again.

He groans at the sound, gripping your jaw, angling your face up so he can devour you fully.

“My good—” kiss “—fucking—” kiss “—girl.”

His voice is pure filth, husky and wrecked, full of heat and love and unrelenting need.

And you’ve never been more turned on in your life.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s him. Maybe both, you don’t know.

You whine, hands fisting into his hair, tugging, pulling, begging him closer, needing more of him, all of him—

And Jungkook just grins against your mouth, breathless and completely, utterly obsessed with you.

Jungkook yanks at your thighs like a man possessed, dragging you up his body, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s falling.

His back slams onto the floor with a dull thud, the force rattling through the room.

But he doesn’t care.

Not one bit.

Because you come crashing down with him—your soaked, swollen pussy landing right onto his face.

You squeal at the impact, hands scrambling for balance, but Jungkook?

Jungkook groans like he’s in heaven.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his grip like iron around your thighs, locking you in place. His breath is hot, his lips already brushing against your slick folds.

And then— “Give it to me.” His voice is wrecked, needy, shaking with hunger, and before you can even react, he dives in.

His tongue swipes up your slit, slow and filthy, before wrapping around your clit, sucking it into his mouth.

And that’s it. That’s all it takes.

You jerk, a choked moan ripping from your throat, fingers clutching at the sheets as a shockwave of pleasure wrecks through you.

Jungkook groans beneath you, the vibration shooting straight through your core. “Give me it, baby.” His voice is muffled against you, tongue plunging inside before dragging back up, flicking exactly where you need it. “Fucking—” He sucks, hard, making you cry out. “Give it to me.”

You do.

You can’t help it.

You grind against his face, rolling your hips, chasing every bit of friction his mouth can give you. It’s desperate, frantic, pure instinct—the way you use him, the way he lets you, encourages you, fucking devours you like he’s been starving for this.

Jungkook’s grip tightens, fingers digging into your ass, pulling you down harder, pressing you deeper into his mouth, like he wants to drown in you.

And fuck, you love him for it.

You don’t even realize you’re doing it at first—grinding down harder, faster, pressing yourself deeper against his mouth.

But Jungkook?

Jungkook feels it.

He groans beneath you, a deep, needy sound that vibrates against your clit, and fuck—fuck, it’s too much.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp as you moan loud, letting him know exactly how good he’s making you feel. And he loves it, if the way he growls against you is anything to go by, his hands flying up your body, grabbing at your tits.

“Shit, baby—”

You whimper when his thumbs flick over your nipples, sharp shocks of pleasure ripping through your body, making your hips stutter against his tongue.

But Jungkook doesn’t let up.

Not even for a second.

He just groans, fucking growls, like a man who’s been starved for years, his tongue working relentlessly, devouring you like he needs you to survive. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking just right, and you cry out, your whole body trembling as pleasure slams through you.

It’s too good.

So fucking good that you can’t even breathe.

Your head tilts back, spine arching, vision whiting out at the edges as you grind against his mouth like a woman possessed. Like you’re chasing the only thing that matters. Like you’re rabid for him.

“Jungkook— oh my god—”

He groans, muffled against you, the sound nothing short of wrecked, and then his hands slide back down to your hips, holding you firm, keeping you right where he wants you.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls, voice wrecked, tongue still working you open. “Fucking—fuck, that’s it.”

And you listen.

Because how could you not?

You ride his face like you need it, like you can’t live without it, like nothing else in the fucking world matters except his mouth on you, the way he’s pulling you apart and piecing you back together all at once.

It’s desperate. It’s raw. It’s love, in its most primal fucking form.

And neither of you would have it any other way.

As you finally reach your peak, a sharp gasp leaves your lips, your body trembling as the pleasure crashes over you. Jungkook groans against you, his arms tightening around your thighs as if to keep you from slipping away. He doesn’t stop—not immediately—lapping up every bit of your release like he’s savoring you, like he’s worshipping you.

Your breath comes in uneven gasps, and when it becomes too much, you whimper, hands fisting into his hair as you try to pull yourself away. But he growls, playfully resistant, pressing one last lingering kiss against your inner thigh before finally letting you go.

Before you can even recover, he moves—grabbing you and tossing you onto the bed like you weigh nothing. You yelp, landing with a soft bounce, the breath knocked from your lungs, but you’re laughing, breathless, lightheaded from everything he’s just done to you.

Jungkook stands at the foot of the bed, his chest rising and falling with exertion, his skin flushed, his eyes hooded and dark with something deeper than lust—something almost reverent. He watches you with a hunger that sends a fresh wave of heat curling through you, and when his hand wraps around his cock, stroking slowly, you swallow hard.

“You have no idea,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low, “how beautiful you are like this.”

Your body reacts instantly, warmth spreading over your cheeks, down your neck, the weight of his gaze alone enough to leave you feeling bare—even more so than you already are. You can’t help it. Your fingers trail lower, teasing, matching his rhythm, mirroring his desperation.

He groans, his grip tightening, his eyes locked onto you. “God, I could watch you like this forever,” he breathes. “You—touching yourself, knowing I’m the only one who gets to see you like this—” His voice falters, like even he’s overwhelmed by the thought.

The air between you is thick with tension, the unspoken love threading through every movement, every shaky breath. It’s not just about pleasure—it’s about this insatiable need for each other, this desperate, all-consuming pull that neither of you can resist.

Jungkook’s voice drops, eyes burning into you. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

Your lips part, a quiet, breathy whimper escaping—because the answer is obvious. Him. Always him.

His breath is warm against your lips when he rasps, “Condom?”

You’re momentarily confused, because—why? You didn’t use one during that night on the beach, since the first time he had you raw, and neither of you had looked back since.

Before you can stop yourself, the question spills out. “Why?”

Jungkook’s eyes flicker with something—hesitation, restraint, desperation. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, and he grips your waist like he’s holding himself back from something dangerous.

Then he swallows hard, gaze locking with yours, and murmurs, “Baby, if I fuck you raw right now, I think I’ll come the second I’m inside you. Please—just, I need a condom.”

A feeling blooms in your chest—something heady, something that makes your thighs squeeze around his hips. He sees it immediately, nudging his nose against yours like he’s begging you to understand.

You exhale, nodding, because—to be fair, he’s probably not lying. Not with the way his cock is twitching, heavy and desperate against your stomach, as if even the thought of being inside you bare would send him over the edge.

“Nari’s bedside table,” you murmur, and Jungkook groans, reaching over without pausing his movements, his other hand still keeping you spread open for him.

You hear the drawer slide open, feel him shift above you as he rummages blindly. Then—

“The fuck is this?”

You blink, barely processing, still dizzy from the way he’s lazily rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, slow and teasing.

You crack an eye open just in time to see him holding up a tiny, fluffy cat keychain, his brows furrowed. He tosses it aside, only to pull out a handful of colorful hair clips, a few makeup brushes, a completely unrelated phone charger—

But the final straw is the pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs dangling from his fingers.

You burst into giggles, grabbing his wrist to stop him from digging further. “Oh my god, move,” you laugh, pushing him off just enough to reach into the drawer yourself.

Jungkook huffs, grinning as he watches you fish out the condom with ease, rolling back onto your knees between his thighs. His gaze darkens as you rip it open, his lips parting when you slide it on yourself, slow, teasing, just to watch his jaw clench.

“Gonna kill me, baby,” he mutters, and then he’s grabbing your waist, pulling you back over him, impatient.

Jungkook doesn’t waste another second. He pushes into you in one slow, aching glide, your body stretching around him, the both of you exhaling at the same time—like relief, like fulfillment, like this is the only place either of you are supposed to be.

“Fuck,” he chokes out, burying his face in your neck, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, your waist, sliding under you to press you closer, like even being inside you isn’t enough.

You cling to him, fingers threading through his damp hair, tugging just enough to pull another moan from his lips. Your other hand drags over his back, his shoulders, his waist—grasping at anything, everything, trying to ground yourself in the overwhelming sensation of him.

His pace starts slow, dragging out every thrust, making sure you feel all of him, but the restraint doesn’t last long. Soon, he’s fucking into you harder, deeper, his hands fisting into the sheets beside your head as his body presses flush against yours.

“You’re mine,” he whispers into your ear, his voice rough, desperate. “You hear me, baby? Only mine.”

You can only nod, gasping when he rolls his hips just right, when his words send another rush of heat through your veins.

He groans, lips finding your jaw, your neck, sucking and biting, marking you. “You feel so good, fuck—made for me, yeah? No one else, just me.”

You whimper, tightening your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper. His breath stutters at the feeling, and then he loses it completely—his rhythm turning frantic, desperate, like he can’t get enough, like he’s trying to bury himself inside you permanently.

One of his hands tangles with yours above your head, fingers lacing together, his grip tight, unrelenting. The other moves down between your bodies, finding your clit, rubbing in messy, rushed circles that make you arch into him, gasping his name.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut like he’s overwhelmed. “Come for me—want to feel you—fuck, need to feel you.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat crashing through you, your body tightening, pulsing around him. He groans, biting down on your jaw, rolling his hips into you with slow, deep thrusts, dragging out every ounce of pleasure.

Your moans break into sharp little cries as he fucks you through it, hips snapping up into yours, pushing you further, further—until your body gives out, trembling against him.

But he doesn’t stop.

He grips your hips tight, flipping you effortlessly, his cock slipping out of you for barely a second before you’re straddling him, his hands spreading over your ass, guiding you down onto him again.

“Ride me, baby,” he rasps, giving your ass a sharp smack that makes you whimper, makes you clench around him as you sink back down.

You grip his chest for balance, breathless as he fills you again, his cock stretching you open so perfectly, so deep it’s dizzying.

“Fuck, just like that,” he groans, hands trailing up your waist, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. “Take me so well. My pretty girl.”

The praise, the way he’s looking up at you—like you’re the only thing in the world—makes your entire body burn. You start to move, rolling your hips, letting him press up into you, meeting you halfway with every thrust.

He groans beneath you, his fingers digging into your skin, his head tilting back against the pillow. “God, look at you. Fucking perfect. You were made to ride me, huh?”

You moan in response, nodding frantically, your hands smoothing over his chest, nails dragging down his skin.

“That’s my girl,” he grits out, eyes dark as they flicker back up to yours. “Come on, baby, give it to me. Let me see you fall apart.”

You whimper, grinding down harder, the friction, the pressure, everything building so fast you can barely breathe.

“That’s it,” he encourages, voice rough. “Feel how deep I am? Fuck—so good for me. Always so fucking good.”

His hands move up, brushing over your breasts before gripping your waist, helping you move, guiding you into a rhythm that has you both unraveling fast.

Your thighs burn, your body trembling, but you don’t stop, can’t stop—especially not when he keeps praising you, keeps moaning beneath you, his grip tightening, his thrusts growing sloppier as he gets closer, as you get closer—

“Fuck, Jungkook—”

You cry out as the pleasure crashes over you, your body tightening, pulsing around him so hard you feel him stutter beneath you, his jaw clenching as he tries to hold on.

“Fuck—baby, I’m gonna—”

He groans, hands clutching you tight as he thrusts up once, twice—and then he’s gone, shuddering beneath you as he spills deep in the condom, his moans tangled with yours, the pleasure crashing between you both in dizzying waves.

You slump forward, panting, heart pounding against his as he wraps his arms around you, keeping you against him like he never wants to let go.

And maybe he never will.

——

The morning is a fucking disaster.

You wake up feeling sore, warm, and very comfortable—until you open your eyes and realize Jungkook is completely butt-ass naked next to you.

And then—

The bedroom door creaks open.

“Ughhh,” Nari groans, rubbing her eyes, clearly suffering from last night’s antics. “Why the fuck is the sun so bright?”

Your body locks up.

She’s not looking. Her eyes are still half-closed as she blindly stumbles forward, heading straight for the bed—her bed—where you and Jungkook are naked.

“Nari, wait—”

But it’s too late.

She flops down onto the mattress, sighing dramatically. “Ugh, I feel like death—why does my bed feel weird?”

You and Jungkook freeze.

Nari frowns, still not fully awake, her hand patting around the bed—and then suddenly—

She grabs Jungkook’s bare back.

There’s a long beat of silence.

“…Why does my bed have abs?”

Jungkook screams.

Nari screams.

You scream.

“WHAT THE—?!” Nari shouts, finally opening her eyes—only for them to land directly on Jungkook’s very bare ass.

“OH MY GOD, WHAT THE FUCK, PUT IT AWAY!”

Jungkook scrambles off the bed, panicking, grabbing at the blanket for dear life while you’re trying to cover yourself.

“ON MY BED?!” Nari shrieks, pointing at you both, utterly horrified. “ARE YOU GUYS FUCKING SERIOUS?!”

“Nari, get out!” You cry, shoving at her.

“No, this is my room, you get out!”

Jungkook is already gone, bolting for the bathroom with the blanket wrapped around him like a desperate little burrito.

You can hear him locking the door, muttering, “Oh my fucking god, what is my life,” under his breath.

Nari turns to you, squinting. “Are you serious? On my bed? On my fucking bed?”

You groan, frantically grabbing for the blanket—only for her to yank it back. “No, it’s cold.”

“Nari, do you want to see me naked?”

“Kinda.”

“Nari!”

She cackles as you finally manage to snatch it away, wrapping yourself up before making a run for the bathroom, abandoning her in the room.

You knock furiously on the door. “Jungkook, let me in.”

A long sigh. Then, finally, the lock clicks open.

You step inside, finding him sitting on the toilet seat, his face buried in his hands.

“What the fuck was that?” you whisper-shout.

He lifts his head slightly, his cheeks burning red. “I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes.”

The two of you are fucking dead.

Still half-naked, still reeling from what just happened.

Nari is snoring her fucking life away in the bedroom, completely dead to the world, and you and Jungkook just stare at each other, still clutching your respective blankets, horrified.

And then— You crack. Laughter bubbles out of your chest, and before you know it, you’re cackling, doubled over, Jungkook gaping at you before he groans and buries his face in his hands. “Oh my god,” he groans. “I’m so fucking tired.”

“Same.” You wheeze, wiping tears from your eyes. “Like, what the hell did we do? Poor Nari.”

Jungkook just sighs. “She’ll probably forget.”

You both groan, knowing full well that she will never let you live this down.

Finally, you manage to sneak back into Nari’s bedroom, tiptoeing past her sleeping form as you grab your clothes, throwing them on in record time. Jungkook fumbles with his jeans, nearly falling over in his rush to get dressed, and you slap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laugh.

Eventually, you escape to the living room, dropping onto the couch, exhausted, the events of last night weighing on you.

Silence.

Jungkook drags himself off the couch and stumbles into the kitchen, opening the fridge.

A long pause.

“What does Nari even eat?” He stares into the sad excuse of a fridge, filled with nothing but pickles, questionable leftovers, and instant food. “How does she live like this?”

You snort, rubbing your temples. “Honestly? I’m not even surprised.”

Finally, you take in the absolute disaster that is the living room. Clothes everywhere, empty bottles, random snacks, and a jar of pickles knocked over on the coffee table.

Jungkook looks at you. You look at Jungkook. And then, in perfect unison, you both let out a long, painful groan.

The apartment is dead silent except for the sound of the TV playing some random channel neither of you are really watching.

You and Jungkook are curled up on the floor couch, hoodies up, barely functioning, waiting for the food you ordered like zombies in recovery.

Jungkook is fully slumped over, one leg stretched out, arms crossed, looking so fucking dead to the world. His hair is a disaster, dark circles heavy under his eyes, and he just stares blankly at the screen, eyes unfocused.

And then— Nari waltzes into the room like she’s been through war.

She looks equally dead, hair a mess, eyes half-open, her oversized shirt hanging off her shoulder, moving with the slow determination of someone who’s been personally victimized by alcohol.

She stops. Looks at the two of you.

Then, without saying a word, she stumbles to the fridge, pulls out a jar of pickles, pops it open, and just starts munching.

You’re safe. She’s forgotten.

And then— “I saw Jungkook’s bare ass.”

Jungkook lets out the most exasperated groan, dragging a hand down his face. “Nari, please—”

But then—her brain finally catches up. Her chewing slows. She freezes. Eyes going wide. Then she slowly turns to you. “Wait.”

Oh, fuck.

“Wait.”

“No, Nari—”

“You guys fucked in my bed?!”

“Nari, I—”

“YOU GUYS HAD FULL-ON, NASTY, SWEATY, I-HATE-YOU SEX IN MY FUCKING BED?!”

“IT WASN’T SWEATY—”

“OH MY GOD, SHUT UP, IT DOESN’T MATTER—”

Jungkook is just sitting there like oh shit man, watching this argument unfold as Nari flails her arms dramatically and you try to defend yourself.

“We were drunk!”

“I don’t give a fuck! That was my bed! Where I sleep! Where I DREAM!”

“We didn’t mean to!”

“Oh, so you just accidentally tripped and landed on his dick, huh?!”

Jungkook chokes. “Nari—”

“No!” She dramatically clutches her chest, looking pained. “My bed has been defiled—”

“Okay, relax, it wasn’t that deep—”

“It was literally that deep!”

“OH MY GOD, STOP!”

She’s fully yelling now, waving the pickle jar around, looking betrayed. Jungkook is just sitting there, mouth slightly agape, watching this play out like it’s a fucking drama series. And then—

“You guys ordered food without me?”

An awkward silence.

You slowly pick up your half-eaten sandwich and offer it to her. Nari snatches it, takes a massive bite, and keeps ranting. “I cannot believe this. This is actually sick. Fucking traitors. I’m gonna need you to call a priest—”

And then she grabs another pickle from the jar, stacking it onto her sandwich like some deranged gourmet chef.

Jungkook just leans back, shaking his head, muttering to himself. “I fucking hate my life.”

And you?

You just groan into your hoodie, realizing this will never be forgotten.

[tojisun]

Riffing off of 141 coming home without Johnny.

I feel like it’d also be heartbreaking if instead of fully breaking down at first you have a moment of, oh my god are the others okay? Kyle are you okay?. Then it hits. Do they have his body? Where is he? Can you go see your Johnny? Are you even allowed to? Bonus points if the last time you properly talked to them before they all left you had a small argument with soap as he was leaving out the door.

HELLO

oh my god the questions. asking if you are allowed to see your spouse; ready to beg if they say you aren't. and the—

"your johnny." just how he always playfully calls himself, yeah?

he says things like, "won't you kiss yer johnny?", "won't you hug yer johnny goodbye?"

promises things like, "yer johnny's gon' come back, bonnie. swear on m'life."

you always did tell him not to bet it all on his life, grumbling as you tell him to take that back because you are superstitious and you've long since learned to avoid the insinuation, lest your words unfurl into realities.

then here, right now...

god YEA YEA I GET YOU!! i added these tags in my prev post—

but holy shit thinking about how the shock is put on halt because you want to take care of kyle first. how the devastation did not even settle in yet as you grapple with the intensity of your worry.

you paw at the others, trying to pull them close — trying to feel them because that is the only way you will ever know that they're alive too — and when they press in, when you feel the brush of kyle's breath on your cheek and price's callused palm rubbing your back and simon's warmth on your side, the ache sinks in.

it spreads all over your chest, chilling the pathways of your nerves until you feel like you are suspended; like the rest of the world has frozen over.

"kyle, i'm— i wanna see— i wanna see jo—"

god, you can't even say his name.

also? are you tryna kill me with that last one? "bonus points" ON WHAT? THE WHUMP SCALE? THE ANGST EXAM?? BC UR PASSING IT W FLYING COLOURS

im gutted so hard oh my godddd

i just know you (reader) won't be able to forgive yourself; won't be able to sleep at night. hell, you can't even stay in the same house anymore because it's so full of johnny and his smell and even the phantom sounds of his laugh. and his room was still unmade and you are so afraid to walk in and see it the same way that he left it — with his clothes on the floor, his extra pair of boots flung around, and there on his bed post was the scarf from a random girl he met at the bar.

you know he wouldn't cheat so why did you keep on insisting? why were you lashing out?

why did you—

"sometimes, i don't think you even truly love me."

why did you say that to him?

[povlnfour]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ PADDOCK TO PADDOCK (LN) PART 5

series masterlist | prev part | next part

lando norris x fem!horse rider!reader

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 192,306 others

yourusername 🇬🇧⏭️🇸🇬

👤 tagged landonorris

view all 10,093 comments

user3 bestie is travelling the world a lot with him huh

user5 and they still deny they’re dating

landonorris 🧡

liked by yourusername

texts with lily ੈ✩‧₊˚

lando.jpg just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by danielricciardo and 90,361 others

lando.jpg exploring singapore

view all 3,498 comments

user4 WHAT THE FUCK MISS Y/N. THAT IS ILLEGAL

user5 so glad i’m not the only one freaking out over that secOND PHOTO

user7 SHE. SHES. MY GOD.

user9 does she not have the olympics or something to train for🙄

daniel.jpg is this why you’ve been hiding from me

yourusername ur not the favourite anymore

mclaren posted stories ੈ✩‧₊˚

mclaren just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by scuderiaferrari, your username and 120,417 others

mclaren P2 IN SINGAPORE AND CARLANDO PODIUM?! WHAT A RACE!

👤 tagged landonorris, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari

view all 10,506 comments

user5 CARLANDOOOO😭😭😭😭

user2 TEARS IN MY EYES

user7 FOREVER OUR MCLAREN BOYS (oscar we love u as well)

yourusername someone raced well huh

mclaren we heard it had something to do with a certain incentive👀

user6 whAT IS GOING ON

twitter reacts ੈ✩‧₊˚

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 250,710 others

landonorris an insane weekend. and this time i took away two trophies🧡

👤tagged carlossainz55, yourusername

view all 54,200 comments

user3 huh

user7 i am. is this confirmation? i don’t understand

yourusername baby u are so cute but the caption makes me seem like a trophy wife😭

user5 SO THEY. THEY ARE ?????

user8 CARLANDO PODIUM AND Y/NANDO DATING??? WHAT IS HAPPENING TODAY

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 234,109 others

yourusername told him if he got podium i’d be his girlfriend. guess i’m a pretty proud girlfriend right about now🧡

👤 tagged landonorris

view all 37,008 comments

user5 OH MY GOD THAT WAS THE INCENTIVE

user1 ITS HAPPENING EVERYONE STAY CALM

lilymhe ‘i don’t have time for a relationship’ - you in my messages a month ago

yourusername LEAVE ME ALONE SHDJJSJS

landonorris 🫣

user13 going to cry there’s a new mom and dad on the grid!

alex_albon so i’ve been forgotten

oscarpiastri @/landonorris you can stop pining in my dms now

landonorris PLEASE SHUT UP

yourusername IM OMW TO UR HOTEL ROOM SHOW ME RN.

landonorris made me wait long enough but you’re worth a thousand years of waiting

user7 oh he’s WHIPPED

lando.jpg just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername, flo_norris_showjumping and 108,333 others

lando.jpg you’ve been my favourite view for a while, but i’m glad i get to share it now. let’s go get you a medal baby🧡

view all 10,926 comments

user9 🙄

user3 HOPE UR CRYING RN

user6 LOLLLLL

user2 y’all are so sickeningly sweet and i love it

flo_norris_showjumping glad you got your shit together bro🩷

user7 MY FAVES ANDBWHXJSJSJ

user1 crying. sobbing. shaking. tears are flowing

yourusername 🩷 i adore you so bad

daniel.jpg you’re still a loser but i’m happy for you

taglist: @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101

a/n: i know it seems like the end but it’s NOT i have a little more planned so hold on <<33 just some soppy relationship stuff really

taglist found here

- giselle xx

[bowlofsoob]

O4 thank you, next — awkward fancalls

notes; all of soobin’s accounts are yn and all of yns accounts are soobin until the end of their birthday

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The call went through and you were soon faced with your two best friends staring right at you, or in this case Soobin, through your phone. For a split second you thought they were frozen from the way they weren’t moving until Hueningkai let out a screech of surprise and threw the phone.

“Hello?” You called out in a voice that wasn’t your own as you now had a view of their ceiling. A few seconds later Taehyun picked up the phone and slowly turned it to face them once again, but now both of their mouths were wide open.

“I can’t believe you’re Soobin,” Taehyun slowly murmurs, taking about a hundred screenshots, “Can you say my name?”

“Shut the fuck up and help me, Taehyun,” you deadpan, annoyed they weren’t seeing the severity of the situation.

“Don’t use his pretty mouth to curse!” Taehyun reprimands, “Now please make a cheek heart, I need a new profile photo for my stan twitter account.”

“I hate you guys,” you sigh, but you oblige.

“This feels like a fancall!” Hueningkai says as he claps, “Can you do aegyo?”

You’re about ready to hang up after that.

“Do you two believe me now?” You ask, nervously rubbing at your face, “What am I supposed to do?”

“Live life as Soobin I suppose?” Taehyun suggests, still intently staring at you, “Wow, his skin is beautiful up close.”

“I guess so,” you murder defeatedly, “Wait.”

You squint as the phone lights up with a notification. You tilt down the phone as it vibrates and you see your twitter username flashing across the top of your screen.

“Oh my god, I think Soobin’s texting me!” you gasp, “I’ll text you guys later.”

“Wait! How big is—,”

Thankfully, you end the call before Hueningkai can finish his sentence.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

ᝰ✧ — masterlist — prev | next

the reason the group chats/contact names are different is cus they’re on each others phones so hope it makes sense

comment on this post if i can use ur username in future chapters as a fan account!

୨୧✧ — author notes; sorry y’all my macbook fucking broke and i didn’t wanna type this up on my ipad 😭 GOT A NEW ONE THO SO FINALLY AN UPDATE FOR YALL

୨୧✧ — synopsis; in a universe where you and your soulmate swap bodies on your twenty-first birthday and every birthday after that. world renowned soloist soobin is set to have a concert on the day of your guys’ shared birthday, a firm believer he doesn’t have a soulmate and wants nothing to do with them. you, a college student who hasn’t listened to a single one of his songs, swap bodies with him on the day of your final exam and his big concert. you’re now under the public eye for ruining his career and soobin has to deal with your wrath since he failed your exams. he must also process the fact that he does in fact have a soulmate, one he couldn’t care less about.

ᝰ✧ — [1/3] taglist is open! @cartierfiles @lunavixia @jungwonderz @bubblytaetae @goldennika @zzzavid @astrozuya @odisdad @destairea @iwaplant @itssaturdaytoday @hoodiebangtan @sunseeking-cryptid @outerspace02a @buttersmama @luvtyun @vianna99 @matcha-binz @doumachi @pinghyuka @soobsdior @binluvsu @tyussday @xavi-in-kpopland @bervaose @birdie-vhs @hearts4huening @reyarain @gyubatuu @tridentgumfreshy @rjsmochii @ckline35 @mochiixsstuff @bluuswanrina @beomnioa @bluxjun @yelsuki @gugggu6gvai @thesassy-mia @222brainrot @itswinteress @cindywasneverhere @kimgyuuu @fatoompie @haohyo @jongseongslvr @soobinsman @wolfytae-exe @ener-energy @malarign @tocupid @phtogravi

[thegremlininyourcloset]

I also want the fact that Carrie fights with fucking slingshot to be explored. Like, she’s from an incredibly dangerous fucking universe and she’s kicking ass. With. A. Slingshot. Like wtf, Carrie. She’s unhinged, love that for her.

Batfam meets Carrie Kelley

Ok, I need the main timeline Batfam to meet Carrie Kelley.

And not in a writers just throw all the different timeline robins into one family, or a crack social media fic. I need proper post-Dark Knight Returns Carrie to universe travel or something and meet this Bruce Wayne and his family. Like, her life is wild. She is a pre-Tim Robin. She got introduced before Jason died?! Her characterisation is built up off Dick, off the original concept of Robin, as a symbol and nothing more, not really a mantle, but an idea. She is a whole different kettle of fish from the modern Batfam and modern interpretation and retconning and rewriting of the Robins, the Robin mantle and the Batfam, not even getting into the fact she's from the 80s. She actively lives in the 80s, like Reagan is president, modern technology is non existent and all that.

Like, from an outside perspective, Carrie's Robin is the leader of a guerrilla paramilitary Batman cult and vigilante organisation, with hundreds of "Sons of Batman". And sure, Bruce is behind the scenes, teaching and truly organising, being supported by pirate-coded, one-armed Oliver, but no one else knows that. To the outside world? Carrie's the big boss. And she's this tiny little pipsqueak in scaly shorts who just so happens to swear like a sailor or a goon on Gotham Docks. It's hilarious. The Batfam would be so confused and concerned about this girl. She has almost no training before going out, she literally got boot-camped in the like 2 weeks Bruce had between meeting her for the first time, where she proceeded to jump in the batmobile, set his arm and sass him, and him then having to go fight Superman and have a heart attack and fake his death.

And that's the other part! They would lose their mind about what the hell is going on in her world?? Vigilantism got outlawed?! People got forced to retire, leave the planet/country or face consequences. Oliver lost an arm?? Clark is an arm of the United States forces, acting as an attack dog pointed wherever Reagan wants?? They fought and Bruce had a heart attack and died?! Well he didn't stay dead, which is actually in character, but what the fuck Carrie?? And I just need her to be so nonchalant about everything that happened to her but also absolutely amazed by the technology and how many family members Bruce has. Also, seeing Bruce young is wild. She only knows old man grump Bruce, the true I work alone Batman. Seeing this Bruce and his family would be wild to her.

Also, the way that she would react to Bruce would be so interesting. Cause all of his kids are in fact his kids, yeah, even Steph to some extent, but Carrie? She's his Robin first, his student second. And his child never. Can you imagine the "good soldier" conversation? Whether that be her mentioning him saying it to her or her finding Jason's plaque (which by the way was Alfred's doing, which adds so many more layers to it) and being all like, awww it's lovely. And everyone else is horrified, including Bruce, cause he's realised that that is not how he should compliment his children and that is not a healthy means of declaration of care. But for Carrie that is true and it is what she is and she appreciates it. Because she is not his kid, and I don't think she really wants to be, she has parents, though they clearly don't pay too close attention to her if she's able to jump out windows and fight crime regularly, but she still has existing parents that fill that position in her life and Bruce is much more a martial arts sensei or a favourite strict teacher to her.

Like, she cares about the dude and all, but when they're sat around and Dick or one of the family members starts prodding Bruce about feelings and his personal life or whatever, she gets awkward, cause that's not her business. That's like seeing your teacher at the supermarket. She sees Bruce in the cave, during training and when he's giving advice, he's not a real person with a life, he's an NPC in her life, she jokes that he already fulfilled his dead sensei anime plot device when he faked his death for Superman, so now she sometimes ignores him when he's being pigheaded and pretends he's a ghost. BUT! That would be so confusing for the Batfam, cause yeah, he's their teacher too, their trainer and mentor, but he's also a parental figure in their lives, there's more to him and how they perceive him and having one without the other would confuse them so much. So when they see she's awkward about him being emotionally open they take it as a sign that they need to try hard and bring her into the fold, teach her how to get her Bruce to open up and she's just fully like, nuh huh, absolutely not, I don't wanna know any of that.

I just really want Carrie to be explored more in canon and in the fandom, beyond just an easter egg appearance, she's so interesting and so underexplored.

[baekhyunsbestie]

♡⸝⸝ sparks and vows (bbh series!) ⊹。°˖➴

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧♡₊˚ pics 1 2 ♡ song・₊✧♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧🥂

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 pairing: soloist!baekhyun x unnamed female o/c (y/n) aka [✶] ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 content: 18+/MDNI. smut, romance, wedding!au, angst, fluff, exos and o/c's, pussy whipped baek, ex-playboy baek, ceo nepo baby reader, smut (tbh probs every chapter), language, scenes with alcohol +/or smoking throughout story, pretty tame tho tbh!!! ଘ(ᵕ˵ ૩ᵕ)━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ baekhyun is down bad like real bad, reader lowkey being a lil punk, also ksoo cant read the room 😭 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 wc: 7.9k+ omg 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 a/n: omg so im going to start putting [✶] and just know that means (y/n) k? k :') as always lmk ur thoughts!! <3 hehe mwah

s&v | mlist | prev | ★ ch.2 rendezvous ★ | next

it was that in-between time when night lingers in the air, yet morning remains a distant thought. [✶] lay fast asleep in baekhyun’s arms, their naked bodies intertwined, sheets tangled beneath them like the remnants of a dream. outside the window, the city lights flickered softly, a quiet backdrop to the intimate chaos within. baekhyun's room was evidence of their passion—a scatter of clothing across the floor, nightstands cluttered with the remnants of their shared moments, condom wrappers, and crumpled napkins bearing witness to the night’s intensity.

baekhyun watched her sleep, completely captivated by the gentle rhythm of her breathing, each rise and fall of her chest like a soft melody that tugged at something deep within him. she looked so serene, so devastatingly beautiful, and it sent his heart into a wild, unfamiliar rhythm. this wasn’t who he was—love had always seemed like a distraction, something that pulled focus from what truly mattered. for the last 15 years, his life had been dedicated to music, every beat of his heart, every ounce of his passion poured into his art. it was his everything—until now.

now, baekhyun held [✶] close, her body fitting against his like they’d been crafted for this moment, his arms wrapped around her with the kind of desperation that comes from realizing you’ve found something you didn’t even know you were missing. less than a day ago, she was just a stranger, someone whose name he didn’t even know. yet here she was, tangled in his arms as if she had always belonged there.

it wasn’t out of character for him to bring someone home after a night out—it was routine, a brief escape that ended with the sunrise and no strings attached, inevitably leaving a trail of frustrated women, disappointed by the imbalance between their hopes and his intentions. but this? holding [✶] long after the moon had set, thinking about her like she was more than just another fleeting moment? it shook him. the sharp, sweet ache in his chest made no sense. he had no room for this—no room for her. his life was full, overflowing with plans, projects, and the relentless pace of his career. he didn’t have the time or the ability to be the kind of partner she deserved. yet something inside him was urging him to try, to just see where this could go. and the thought of treating her like all the others—women who were here one night and gone the next—felt impossible. she was different, and he couldn’t imagine letting her slip away the same way.

a storm of emotions raged inside him, battling between running from the overwhelming intensity of it all or surrendering completely, losing himself in the feeling of her in his arms. the dawn was creeping closer, and with it, the inevitable confrontation of reality. what would he say when the first light touched her skin? how could he possibly put into words the confusion and intensity that gripped him?

‘so, [✶],’ he could imagine himself saying, half-joking, half-serious. ‘last night was unbelievable. and god–the sex? THE best i’ve ever had, hands down. but, uh… now i think i’m starting to feel something real, something genuine.’

but no, that couldn’t be right. he couldn’t possibly feel that way—not after just one night.

except, maybe that was exactly the whole fucking point. he’d only known [✶] for such a short time, yet she had already flipped his entire world upside down. and of course, he didn’t know her in the traditional sense—there were no shared experiences, no history between them. but somehow, he felt like he knew her. like her soul had been cut from the same fabric as his, and no matter how crazy it seemed, it just felt right.

as he navigates a whirlwind of emotions—excited by the possibility of a future together and grateful for the universe’s twist of fate—he’s also plagued by persistent doubts. the question, ‘what if it doesn’t work out?’ echoes relentlessly. amidst this emotional storm, one truth stands unwavering in his heart: he wants [✶].

he wants all of her—the good, the bad, and everything in between. for the first time in his life, baekhyun doesn’t feel the insistent urge to run away. that thought alone is both terrifying and freeing. with his arms still wrapped around her and her warmth grounding him in a way he’d never felt before, baekhyun’s eyes finally grow heavy. as sleep overtakes him, only one thought remains: ‘i want ✶’.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

as the morning sun filters through baekhyun's bedroom curtains, casting a soft glow over their still-entwined bodies, [✶] stirs awake. the weight of the previous night crashes down on her with an almost physical force.

the first thing she notices, with a wave of relief, is the absence of a pounding headache or any trace of a hangover. silently, she thanks the gods for sparing her the consequences of her indulgence. but as awareness creeps in, the feel of her bare skin against baekhyun’s sends a surge of insecurity through her. instinctively, she pulls the covers tighter around herself, though her head remains nestled on his chest, just as it was when she fell asleep.

his chest rises and falls beneath her, his slow, steady breaths a sign that he's still deep in slumber. she glances up through heavy-lidded eyes, a soft smile forming as she takes in his peaceful features—the defined bridge of his nose, the pout of his lips, the few scattered freckles that dot his face. his slightly tousled hair falls gently over his forehead, enhancing his impossibly breathtaking appearance.

as her body fully awakens, the remnants of last night’s passion make themselves known, a dull ache settling in her thighs and core—a reminder of just how unforgettable the night had been.

oh, last night was pure magic.

from the very first moment, an undeniable spark ignited between them—a fusion of laughter and playful banter that effortlessly drew them closer with each shared joke. the attraction was magnetic, their energies blending in a way that felt almost fated. by the time they made it back to baekhyun’s place, a deeper intimacy had already begun to unravel as they stripped away layers of themselves, exposing vulnerabilities and desires. every movement between them was fluid, like a perfectly choreographed dance, each touch and caress in sync, flowing seamlessly. when their lips finally met, it was breathless, electric, as if every kiss was proof of the chemistry they couldn’t deny. there was no awkwardness or hesitation—just a quiet, unspoken understanding that made everything feel effortless and right.

despite the magic of the night and the waves of pleasure baekhyun had given [✶], she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she was just another conquest. another notch on his belt.

she had been fully aware of the boundaries she was crossing when she let things go as far as they did. but now, lying there in the dim morning light, she couldn’t shake the nagging doubt. was it the ache of loneliness, stretching back months before her breakup, that had driven her into baekhyun’s bed? the realization made her feel small and pitiable. this was supposed to be what she wanted—just a night of fleeting pleasure. she’d never intended for anything more, had she?

baekhyun’s reputation wasn’t a mystery. she knew his story, his resistance to commitment. hana had given her all the warnings. so why did she feel this sense of disappointment creeping in? did she really think he’d change for her? the thought twisted like a knife in her chest, leaving her feeling small and foolish.

the more she dwelled on it, the worse it got. her mind spiraled, and what had started as a gnawing insecurity quickly turned into a suffocating weight pressing down on her. each breath felt harder than the last. the comfort she’d found with baekhyun now felt like a cage she desperately needed to break free from.

with delicate, almost trembling grace, she gently disentangles herself from baekhyun’s hold, slipping out of his bed as silently as a shadow slipping through the night. she dresses with deliberate care, each movement slow as though she fears shattering the fragile peace. her heart feels heavy, weighed down by a whirlwind of unspoken fears and doubts.

she pauses for a moment, casting one last, lingering glance at the man she’s leaving behind, her chest tightening with the unvoiced turmoil inside her. then, she quietly turns toward the door, each step a soft whisper of the internal struggle pulling her away from the comfort she craves.

“where are you going?” his voice is soft but laced with urgency, cutting through the silence as [✶] freezes at the front door of his apartment, her hand on the doorknob. she turns, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of him. baekhyun stands in the doorway of his bedroom, the morning light spilling through the curtains, casting a warm glow on his skin. his usually confident demeanor is nowhere to be found—his lips are trembling ever so slightly, betraying a fear he’s never known before. 

but this time is different. this time, the thought of her leaving without even saying goodbye has shaken him in ways he wasn’t prepared for.

“i... i just thought i should go,” she mumbles, avoiding his gaze. it feels safer that way, to not see the way he looks at her, like he cares—like this is more than just another fleeting moment for him. because if she looks, she might start believing it. and she can't afford to be that naive.

baekhyun takes a step closer, his expression growing more concerned. “w-why?” his voice is quieter now, softer, as if he's afraid of scaring her away completely. “did i...do something wrong?”

the question nearly shatters her. no, he didn’t do anything wrong. he did everything right. maybe too right. it was her who was messed up. her thoughts swirl, and the doubts she had managed to suppress crash back down on her, heavier than before.

not only is he saying all the right things, it definitely doesn’t help that he looks absolutely unreal. his toned abs are visible beneath the loosely held sheet around his waist—not overly muscular, but defined just enough to show the faint lines of his effort. his hair, still messy from the night before, frames his face with an effortless charm. strands fall messily across his forehead, his undercut now more visible, revealing the sharp contrast between the tousled top and the freshly shaved sides. 

“i just... don’t want to complicate things,” [✶] whispers, her throat tightening. “we both know this wasn’t meant to be anything serious.”

baekhyun’s jaw clenches, his expression hardening for a brief moment, but it softens again almost immediately. “who said that?”

his words catch her off guard. she looks up at him, finally, her brows furrowing as she tries to gauge the sincerity in his eyes. “you don’t have to say that. we both know what this is. you don’t have to pretend.”

his dark eyes search for hers, filled with a sense of longing and desperation that makes her heart skip. the way he’s looking at her isn’t just lust or satisfaction from a night well spent. no, it’s more. it’s something real, something vulnerable.

“[✶],” he steps closer, and for the first time, there's a sense of urgency in his voice, “i’m not pretending. i don’t know what this is, but i know it’s not nothing. i didn’t–i don’t want you to leave.”

her heart stumbles at his admission. she wasn’t expecting that. she was expecting indifference, a casual goodbye, maybe even relief on his part. but instead, she finds herself facing a man who seems genuinely rattled by the thought of her walking out of his life.

“why?” she blurts out before she can stop herself. the question is raw, tinged with the vulnerability she’s tried so hard to hide. “why would you care if i leave? i’m just another girl to you, right?”

his eyes darken with frustration, and before she can retreat any further, he closes the distance between them. “no. you’re not just another girl.” his voice is firm, with an edge of desperation. “if you were, i wouldn’t be standing here right now, trying to figure out why you’re running away. i wouldn't have tried so fucking hard all night to get you to agree to go on an actual date with me.”

she swallows hard, her mind racing. this wasn’t the baekhyun she had expected—the one standing before her now felt different, almost… vulnerable. it threw her off balance, disarming in a way that left her both intrigued and unsettled. this glimpse of him, raw and open, scared her more than she wanted to admit.

“you don’t know what you’re saying,” she mutters, turning her face away, her voice barely above a whisper. “you don’t know what you want.”

baekhyun’s hand reaches out, gently grasping her wrist, not to restrain her, but to ground her. “maybe i don’t,” he admits, his tone softer now. “but i know i want to find out. with you.”

his words land like a punch to the gut, stirring something deep inside her, something she’s trying so hard to bury. it would be so easy to believe him, to let herself hope. but her insecurities scream louder than the quiet sincerity in his voice.

“i’m scared,” she finally admits, the truth spilling out before she can stop it. “i don’t want to be just another one of your conquests.”

baekhyun’s grip on her wrist tightens just a fraction, as if silently reassuring her. “and you’re not. look, i don’t know what i’m doing either. i admit, when it comes to my love life, i’ve been a mess for a long time. but last night... it wasn’t just fun for me. like i said, i didn’t want it to end, and i’m not ready for it to end yet.”

her heart races, battling against her fear, her doubts. she wants to believe him. god, she wants to so badly. but the weight of her past, of her insecurities, makes it so hard to trust, to let herself fall.

she whispers, her voice trembling. “why does it feel like i’m setting myself up to get hurt?”

baekhyun exhales slowly, stepping even closer, so close she can feel the warmth of his skin, the sincerity radiating off him. "because i’ve been that guy before,” he says, his voice low and regretful. “i know what you’ve heard about me, and i know it makes me look untrustworthy. but i’m trying to be different. i want to be different. for you.”

her breath catches, and for a moment, she doesn’t know what to say. she’s standing at a crossroads, one where she can either run from this potential or take a leap into the unknown, into the terrifying, fragile possibility that baekhyun might actually mean what he says.

“just stay,” he pleads, his eyes searching hers. “we don’t have to figure it all out right now. just... stay. at least let me make you a coffee.”

and in that moment, she realizes she’s not the only one who's afraid. he’s scared too—scared of losing something real, something that might be worth the risk.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“thanks for meeting me so early,” hana says, her voice light yet tinged with a hint of mischief as she glances at [✶]. she raises her glass, savoring a generous sip of her mimosa, the citrus tang lingering on her lips. “i hope you’re not too hungover from last night.”

after the events of the previous evening—and everything that followed—hana had insisted on brunch. [✶] had reluctantly agreed, though she had wished to stay wrapped up in baekhyun’s arms a little longer. she stayed for coffee, at least, and during that brief pause, they had talked. they agreed to take things slow, letting the pace be hers. it was new for both of them, but they decided they’d figure it out together.

still, she wasn’t fully convinced. as baekhyun spoke, opening up in a way she hadn’t expected, there was a nagging voice in the back of her mind, reminding her of all the reasons she should be cautious. part of her wanted to believe him—his sincerity did seem genuine.

then, before she could overthink further, another voice—softer, almost hopeful—urged her to agree. give him a chance, just this once.

so then she nodded in agreement, the words tumbling out of her mouth almost reflexively. 'yeah, okay. sure. we’ll take it slow. let’s see where this goes.' the second she said it, she felt the weight lift slightly, though her heart still carried the lingering burden of doubt.

as soon as their conversation came to a close, [✶] had barely managed to get through half of her cup before baekhyun swept her up, carrying her bridal-style back to his bedroom to pick up where they left off the night before.

baekhyun had been between [✶]'s legs when hana called. she forwarded the call to voicemail the first couple of times, her focus lost in the heat of baekhyun’s mouth. the third call, baekhyun paused long enough to nudge her to answer. “it might be important,” he murmured, his lips still brushing her skin. breathless, she agreed, assuming he’d give her a moment of peace to handle it.

just seconds into the call, baekhyun dove back in, his lips finding their place between [✶]'s thighs once again. her back arched in response, a hand flying to her mouth to stifle the moan that nearly escaped. his quiet chuckle vibrated against her, making her toes curl. he was tormenting her and he was relishing every second of it.

hana had asked to meet for brunch later that morning, and despite the overwhelming distraction, [✶] couldn’t bring herself to say no. hana would immediately sense something was off if she refused, and [✶] wasn’t ready to explain what—or rather, who—was keeping her busy. with a steadying breath, she agreed to brunch, trying to sound as casual as possible, all while baekhyun continued his irresistible teasing beneath the sheets.

before she could even say goodbye, baekhyun snatched her phone, powered it off, and tossed it lightly across the room and out of her reach.

she shot him a disbelieving look, her mouth hanging open in shock. “baek, did you seriously just throw my phone?”

“don’t worry, babe,” he murmured, his lips brushing gently against her thighs, punctuated by playful nibbles. “if it’s broken, i’ll just get you a new one.” he said it with such effortless ease, his tone carrying an unspoken promise—he wasn’t done with her just yet.

she released a shaky breath, her body trembling from the waves of pleasure surging through her. the sight alone was almost enough to push her over the edge—his plush, pink lips enveloping her completely, his relentless tongue expertly circling her most sensitive spot. the dark, intense look in his eyes never left hers, watching her fall apart beneath his touch, turning her into a helpless mess. he was being so mean.

“why do i get the feeling you’re going to be the death of me, byun baekhyun?”

a wicked, self-satisfied grin twisted his lips at the desperate, broken whine that bubbled up from her. god, that sound was like pure, addictive nectar to him—he couldn’t get enough. his touch was merciless, each stroke and caress a calculated torment meant to make her squirm and beg. her thighs clamped down on his head, nearly crushing him, and he thrived on the way she writhed with pleasure. he was consumed by an unholy hunger to hear every gasping whimper and frenzied moan she made. nothing was too extreme, no act too cruel, just to keep her trembling and on the edge of madness. he’d happily lose himself entirely—drown in her juices—if it meant he could keep hearing those sweet, desperate sounds that drove him wild. to him, her pleasure was an intoxicating obsession, and he’d do anything to keep those sounds coming.

in his haze, the thought of returning to his old playboy ways was utterly inconceivable. how could he go back to such meaningless encounters now that he had experienced the depth of having [✶] beneath him, that he had tasted her so intimately? the fleeting pleasures of his past life were nothing compared to the all-consuming need he felt for her. the idea of being with anyone else, of indulging in any other woman’s touch, was abhorrent to him. he needed her and only her, every day, every night, for the rest of his days. the sheer thought of anything else was a betrayal of the dark, obsessive desire that now consumed him.

now, sitting in the bustling restaurant, surrounded by the sounds of clinking glasses and lively chatter, the air warm and fresh as they chose a spot outside, [✶] tried to ground herself in the present. the late morning sun bathed the two friends in a gentle glow, the rays caressing their skin with a comforting warmth.

[✶] smiled, mirroring her best friend as she took a slow sip of her drink. “well, when my best friend calls, i answer.”

she cleared her throat, trying to push away the vivid memory of baekhyun’s touch while she answered that very call, her pulse quickening momentarily. the contrast between the intimate, fevered haze of the morning and the casual brunch setting was stark, and [✶] struggled to keep her composure as she engaged in light conversation with hana.

hana's lips curled into a smile at [✶]'s remark, but that smile slowly fell once her gaze drifted lower. her eyes locked onto something just above [✶]'s collarbone—a faint mark, barely concealed under the edge of her cardigan, but unmistakably there.

"um, what the hell is that?!" hana’s voice practically squealed with excitement as she pointed at the mark, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

[✶] froze, her face a mask of horror. they hadn't even been sitting at the table for five minutes, and hana had already spotted it. her mind scrambled for an excuse, but she came up empty-handed. before she could even react, hana’s eyes widened in delight. "oh, you dirty whore! i knew you went to baekhyun’s last night! is that why you kept declining my calls this morning?!"

“hey, weren’t you the one telling me to have fun?” [✶] retorted, her hand instinctively flying to cover the mark, her sudden insecurity evident as hana’s gaze bore into her with playful intensity.

desperate to divert the attention away from herself—and the telltale mark on her neck that her best friend’s keen eyes had already noticed—[✶] blurted out, "anyway, what’s up? i’m shocked kyungsoo’s not too busy basking in 'betrothed bliss' to let you out of his sight." her words came out in a rush, the playful jab at her friend laced with a hint of anxiety as she tried to steer the conversation away from the previous night’s events.

hana narrowed her eyes playfully, giving her best friend a knowing look that promised a full interrogation about baekhyun later. with the tension between them dissolving, she relaxed back into her seat, a soft smile playing on her lips. "well, if you must know, i do have a little surprise for you."

she then reached down and brought out a stunning bouquet of flowers, the delicate pinks and whites of peonies and carnations mingling with the airy softness of baby’s breath. the arrangement was breathtaking, each bloom carefully selected to create a harmonious blend of color and fragrance. as [✶] took the bouquet, the sweet scent of the flowers filled the air, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. but it wasn’t just the flowers that caught her attention.

as [✶]'s eyes drifted down, she noticed the newspaper wrapping the bouquet—a charming and personal touch. on it was a nostalgic picture of the two of them as children, arms wrapped around each other, their smiles wide and full of innocent joy. above the image, a headline in bold letters asked, ‘will you be my maid of honor?’

tears welled up in [✶]'s eyes, her heart swelling with happiness at the heartfelt proposal. she looked directly across the table at hana, her voice choked with emotion. “oh my god, hana, of course i’ll be your maid of honor!”

the two rise from their seats, the excitement in the air nearly palpable. as they step into each other's embrace, the hug is tight and full of unspoken emotions—love, pride, and the overwhelming joy of this moment. [✶] feels her chest swell with happiness for her best friend, the kind that makes her eyes glisten with unshed tears. this is a moment she'll cherish forever.

as they settle back down, [✶] takes hana's hand, her grip firm and reassuring. "i promise you, i'm going to make this wedding everything you've ever dreamed of," she says, her voice filled with determination and warmth. "you know i'm the best when it comes to planning and parties," [✶] brags with a playful smirk. "you won't even have to lift a finger. you can count on me."

hana grins and winks at her, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "duh, that's why i picked you for the job. did you think it was because of the 20+ years of history we have with each other?" she joked causing [✶] to roll her eyes.

“but anyways, now that we’ve got all of that out of the way,” hana says with a sly grin, finishing off the last sip of her mimosa. the waiter arrives just in time to refill her glass, but hana barely acknowledges him, her focus entirely on [✶]. she leans in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “spill. about baekhyun, i mean. i want every single detail, especially the juicy ones. this is a first for us, after all.”

it’s true. [✶] has never had anything this juicy to share before—how could she, when there was only ever one person she’s been with? this whole experience is as new to [✶] as it is to hana.

hana’s eyes gleam with pride and excitement for her best friend. it was always hana who had the wild stories of one-night stands and steamy affairs—until kyungsoo came along and changed that, of course. but now, it’s [✶]’s turn, and hana couldn’t be happier to see her best friend finally stepping into the spotlight, embracing a side of life she had never explored before.

as [✶] captivates her best friend with the events of the previous night, her voice is a mix of excitement and raw emotion. she starts with the first kiss, describing it as a moment suspended in time—the spark that affirmed that there truly was something between her and baekhyun. she talks about their conversations, rich and engaging, where they uncovered just how much they had in common. their chemistry was evident in every shared laugh and glance.

the conversation takes a more heated turn as [✶] details what happened in baekhyun’s bedroom. her eyes flutter with a mix of excitement and lingering nervousness as she recounts the intensity of their encounter—an experience that surpassed anything she’d ever known.

her cheeks warm with the flush of several mimosas as she describes waking in the soft morning light, her heart pounding with a blend of fear and exhilaration. she had almost left without a word, but then she had seen the hurt in baekhyun’s eyes—a look that pierced through her and left her trembling. [✶] recounts the heartfelt things baekhyun had told her, his affirmations that he wanted her to stay. though his words were beautiful and convincing, she couldn’t shake the fear weighing on her heart. his promises seemed so simple, but she hardly knew him, and his reputation with women only added to her doubts.

“i know we agreed to take things at my pace and see where this goes,” [✶] gushes to hana, her voice tinged with frustration and uncertainty. “but i can’t help feeling scared. he said all the right things, hana,” she continues, her eyes searching for reassurance. “he made everything sound so… simple. but with what i know about his past with women, i’m just not sure if i should fully trust him yet.. or ever.”

hana listens intently, her gaze reflecting a blend of empathy and understanding. she can’t help but draw parallels between [✶]’s current turmoil and her own past experiences. she recognizes the familiar echoes of her own journey with kyungsoo in [✶]’s struggle. 

she reflects on the early days of her relationship with kyungsoo, remembering how he grappled with insecurities about her popularity and past. the relationship had been rocky at times, but they weathered the storm and built a foundation of trust that led them to where they are now—engaged and committed. 

hana finds herself empathizing with baekhyun’s situation as well, sensing a genuine depth in his feelings for [✶]. the shock of discovering that he might actually have developed real emotions for [✶] resonates with hana’s own experiences. she understands the challenge of overcoming past impressions and the difficulty of navigating new emotions in a relationship. the parallels between [✶]’s predicament and her own journey with kyungsoo feel strikingly similar.

hana reaches across the table, her smile soft and comforting. “i understand, [✶]. trusting someone when there’s so much uncertainty is never easy. but sometimes, the only way to truly get to know someone is to take a leap of faith. and as much as it surprises me to say this about byun baekhyun of all people, who knows? it might actually work out between you two. he seems genuine. besides, he wouldn’t risk playing with your feelings, especially knowing you’re my best friend. baekhyun might not always come across as a gentleman with women, but he does have his principles.”

“yeah,” [✶] replies, her voice tinged with exhaustion and a touch of resignation. “OR i could just ghost him and skip all this potential heartache. save myself from getting hurt.” she shrugs, trying to sound casual, but her eyes reveal the deeper unease she’s feeling. 

unknowingly, [✶]'s reaction mirrors the very hesitance she perceives in baekhyun. 

“that option seems like the safest bet. besides, i probably won’t see him again until the wedding, so there’s plenty of time and distance to figure things out.”

as [✶] continues to pour out her feelings, hana’s attention is drawn to the two men approaching their table. her heart skips a beat as she recognizes them, bracing for what could be an awkward encounter. she tries to catch [✶]’s attention, hoping to steer the conversation away, but her friend, lost in a haze of inebriated candor, remains blissfully unaware.

“i mean, who knows, maybe he’s probably already forgotten all about—”

a smooth, confident voice interrupts [✶]’s ramble. “fancy seeing you two here,” one of the men says, his tone dripping with amusement.

kyungsoo strides over to his fiancée with a warm, affectionate smile. leaning down, he presses a gentle kiss to hana’s lips. as he pulls back, his gaze shifts to [✶]. “you remember baekhyun from the party last night, right?”

[✶] turns to face the towering figure behind her, her eyes widening in surprise. her heart races as she meets baekhyun’s gaze, his expression a mixture of charm and intrigue. the blush rising on her cheeks and neck could easily be attributed to the alcohol, but deep down, she knows it’s more than that. it feels as though her breath has momentarily escaped her, caught in the magnetic pull of baekhyun’s presence.

“uhhh… yeah,” [✶] murmurs, her voice barely a whisper, eyes widening in a mix of surprise and embarrassment. “hi, baekhyun.”

[✶]’s hands tremble slightly as she tries to compose herself, her voice wavering. baekhyun, on the other hand, stands effortlessly, his relaxed posture and easy smile showing no sign of the tension [✶] is feeling.

“hi there, [✶]. long time no see.” baekhyun’s eyes twinkle with amusement as he casually greets her, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. his demeanor only heightens [✶]’s sense of unease, making her feel even more out of place.

‘why is he here? why does he look so fucking good? and why the hell is he acting like he wasn’t just eating me out like his very life depended on it just an hour ago?’ the questions race through [✶]’s mind, her anxiety evident in the way her heart pounds and her thoughts scatter.

the two men slide their chairs into place beside them, the scrape of wood against the floor sounding louder than usual in the tense atmosphere. hana’s gaze locks onto kyungsoo with a palpable blend of frustration and disbelief. her eyes, usually warm and inviting, are now sharp and pleading, as if trying to send a silent message through sheer willpower. her jaw is set tightly, the muscles working under her skin as she silently implores him to understand that this is absolutely not the moment for an interruption.

as expected, kyungsoo remained blissfully unaware of the charged atmosphere between the two women in front of him. he was the type of man who missed the subtle undercurrents of energy and instead focused on concrete, verbal exchanges.

“soo, you didn’t mention you were having breakfast with baekhyun this morning?” she asked, her voice laced with barely concealed irritation, teeth clenched as she spoke.

kyungsoo, oblivious to the simmering tension, responded nonchalantly, “oh, well, i checked your location and saw you were here. we just finished eating at the tap house not too far down the street. baekhyun parked nearby here, so i thought i’d walk him to his car since you’re here anyway.”

hana and [✶] exchanged frantic glances, their eyes wide with unspoken panic. they silently hoped that the two men would take the hint and leave, but their casual intrusion and self-assured demeanor suggested otherwise.

kyungsoo leaned back, a casual grin tugging at his lips. “and then we saw through the window that [✶] was with you,” he continued, eyes twinkling with mischief. “and since baekhyun here seemed so smitten with her at the party, he thought he’d swing by to say hi.”

baekhyun shot him an incredulous look, eyebrows shooting up as if he couldn’t believe his best friend just threw him under the bus. with a soft chuckle, he accepted that kyungsoo had no concept of subtlety. “yeah, something like that,” baekhyun laughed, settling more comfortably into his chair. 

his hand slipped beneath the table, settling on [✶]’s thigh with a comforting warmth. he gently caressed her skin, his thumb brushing up and down in soothing strokes, occasionally squeezing her knee like it was second nature. each subtle movement edged higher, his fingers grazing the sensitive spot between her legs—a place he had intimately explored in the early hours of the morning.

she bit down on her lip, desperately trying to focus on anything but the subtle movements of his hand beneath the table. there was no way she could look at him—seeing baekhyun again so soon had her heart pounding out of control. her skin already tingled with warmth, and she knew that if their eyes met while he touched her, she’d completely fall apart. she couldn’t let her best friends catch on just yet to how dangerously head over heels she was for him.

“oh, by the way,” kyungsoo interjected, like a light bulb suddenly twent on in his brain. he turned to hana, his face lighting up with a blend of excitement. the words that followed his mouth, left [✶] in a state of utter shock. “i had asked baekhyun to be my best man just now, and he agreed.”

“oh..did he?” hana asked, her voice laced with disbelief. “i thought you were planning to ask your brother to be your best man?”

kyungsoo shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “nah, it makes more sense for baekhyun to be my best man. he’s more reliable.” he gave a meaningful nod towards his best friend.

hana’s eyes wandered over to [✶], who was sitting across the table with a mix of surprise and discomfort etched on her face. “i just asked [✶] to be my maid of honor, too, and she said yes,” hana confessed, a hint of guilt in her voice.

kyungsoo’s eyes softened as he looked across the table at baekhyun and [✶]. “this is perfect! and you two hit it off so well last night, too. i’m so glad.” his gaze then shifted to his fiancée, who was glaring at him with an intensity that could burn through steel.

baekhyun glanced at the time, his expression tightening. “well, i should get going. i'm running late for a meeting with my manager.” he gave her knee a final, lingering squeeze before rising from his seat, the chair sliding back with a soft scrape.

before heading out, he turned to [✶] with a warm, his fingers grazed her shoulder, sending a shiver through her. “guess we’ll be seeing each other more often, [✶],” he said with a wink, a toothy smile curving up into the familiar crescent moons that made her heart flutter. if she’d been uncertain about her feelings before, the gentle brush of his hand and that teasing smile left her even more confused.

as baekhyun bid the couple and [✶] a warm goodbye, his departure was marked by a casual wave and a charming smile. the soft chime of the restaurant doorbell signaled his exit, the door closing behind him with a gentle swoosh. hana’s gaze followed him until he was out of sight, her fingers lightly tapping kyungsoo's arm in a gesture that was both exasperated and affectionate.

“what the hell, kyungsoo?! can’t you take a hint?” hana’s voice was a mix of frustration and disbelief, her eyes flashing with irritation.

kyungsoo winced, the sting of hana’s playful yet sharp slap making him flinch. he rubbed his arm with a wince, his brow furrowing in confusion. “what do you mean? aren’t you happy that our best friends are playing such important roles in our wedding?”

hana’s reaction was to scoff, shaking her head as though in disbelief at her fiancé’s lack of understanding. “i’ll explain when i get home later,” she said, her tone carrying a weight of finality.

[✶], who had been silent and seemingly lost in thought, finally spoke up. her voice was thin and quivering, as if she were struggling to find the right words. "i’m going to head into the office, actually.” she said, her throat feeling dry. "i have a lot to prepare for the charity event this upcoming weekend.” 

as she packed up her bag with a hurried efficiency, her movements were sharp and deliberate. she tossed a generous amount of cash onto the table, covering their bill with a decisive flick of her wrist. “i’ll text you when i get home, hana, yeah? i’ll see you both later, bye.”

before hana could even muster a response, [✶] was already making her way to the exit, her steps quick and determined. the restaurant's warm ambiance seemed to dim as she left, her sudden departure leaving a palpable void. hana and kyungsoo were left in stunned silence, their expressions a blend of concern and confusion as they watched [✶] storm out, her figure disappearing into the busy street.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

as [✶] slides into the driver’s seat of her car, she feels the cool leather against her skin. the soft hum of the engine, which she usually finds comforting, now seems to mock her inner turmoil. she's slumped into the seat, her back pressing against the headrest, her breath hitching as she silently berates herself. “why did this have to happen now?” she muttered to herself, her voice trembling with the intensity of her emotions. “why did baekhyun have to show up like that? and why did kyungsoo have to be so fucking oblivious?” she ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, trying to make sense of her jumbled thoughts and emotions.

a tap on her windshield startles her, and as she looks up, she catches the glint of a familiar face through the sunlight. it’s baekhyun, his presence as unexpected as it is electrifying.

“talking to yourself now?” his voice, smooth and teasing, floats through the air, just as the soft knock on the glass fades.

[✶] mentally shakes herself, a whirlwind of thoughts crashing together. 'get your shit together', she thinks while drawing in a deep breath. the whir of the window motor is the only sound that punctuates the brief silence as she rolls it down.

baekhyun’s face appears, framed by the soft light of day, and his smile is a blend of mischief and warmth. his eyes sparkle with a flirtatious glint, the kind that makes her pulse quicken and her thoughts scatter.

“hi again,” he murmurs, leaning into the window with a playful, teasing tone. his lower lip caught between his teeth, he meets her gaze, then lets his eyes trail down to her lips before returning to hers. the proximity of his body, his breath brushing against hers, sends a shiver racing down her spine.

caught off guard, she fights to regain control of her swirling thoughts. but as the sunlight bathes him in a golden hue, the moment pulls her in, stealing her hesitation.

“hi,” [✶] replies, her voice soft but brimming with warmth.

baekhyun’s gaze softens as he reaches out, the back of his fingers grazing her cheek with a feather-light touch. he gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch electric and tender. “wow. you’re even prettier in the daylight,” he murmurs, his voice low and sincere. “didn’t know that was possible.”

the compliment wraps around [✶] like a cozy blanket, stoking a fire of confidence within her. she lifts her chin slightly, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. “i could say the same about you, baekhyun,” she responds, her voice taking on a flirtatious edge as she lets her smile widen.

the playful exchange lingers in the air, a shared moment of magnetic attraction, as they stand on the precipice of something exhilarating and unknown.

"hmph.” his voice rumbles softly, eyes looking at her with longing as if he was looking at something he couldn't quite have.

“sorry,” he murmurs, his tone a mix of concern and something she couldn’t quite place. “i didn’t mean to interrupt your little monologue just now. i just saw you practically sprinting to your car as i was about to pull off and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

as he speaks, his hand moves with a gentle, deliberate slowness, fingers brushing against the side of her face. his touch is warm, his thumb grazing the delicate curve of her chin. the contact sends a spark through her, turning her into putty. his thumb lingers, tracing the line of her jaw, and she can’t help but lean into his touch, her breath hitching as the tension between them crackles like electricity in the air.

"thanks for checking on me,” [✶] sighs, her voice barely above a whisper as she fidgets with the hem of her shirt. her eyes dart nervously to the side, avoiding baekhyun’s intense gaze. “but i’m okay, really—i just wasn’t expecting to see you so soon after… you know—”

“oh—right!” baekhyun says with a snaps his fingers. his eyes light up with sudden realization, his expression shifting to one of playful mischief. “what was it you were saying earlier? something about how you thought the next time you'll see me is at their wedding? and that it would leave plenty of time and distance between us? is that right?”

[✶]’s heart drops, and her eyes widen in shock as she feels her stomach twist with embarrassment. she can barely believe her ears. her mouth goes dry, and her voice falters. “heh. oh, so you… you heard that?”

baekhyun nods, his hand resting dramatically over his chest as if wounded. “wow. i can’t believe the only girl who has me in a complete chokehold was planning to ghost me.” his tone is light, teasing, but there’s an underlying note of sincerity that makes [✶]’s cheeks flush. “welp, i’m glad i caught you, then. cause now i can tell you that you’re going to have to try harder to get rid of me.” he says lightly pinching her cheek.

she feels exposed, her earlier confidence crumbling under his playful yet piercing gaze. the memory of her conversation with hana floods back, and she mentally kicks herself for being so careless. but as much as she wants to sink into the floor and disappear, there’s something about the way baekhyun looks at her—like she’s the only person in the world that matters in that moment—that makes her chest tighten with something other than dread.

"welllllll," [✶] drags out the word, her voice laced with a playful drawl, "it was really nice chatting, baekhyun, but i really have to get going. i have a lot to plan for this annual charity event coming up this weekend, and—"

she’s immediately cut off as baekhyun’s expression shifts, realization dawning on him like a flash of lightning. the pieces fall into place with a sudden clarity that makes him silently curse himself for not figuring it out sooner. how could he have missed this?

"wait—" he interrupts, astonishment coloring his voice, "the humanitarian gala at the lee hotel this saturday? i just signed on to perform there. i'm actually meeting with my manager soon to go over the details."

[✶]’s eyes narrow, her thoughts racing back to the chaotic conversation she had with her assistant yesterday morning, just before kyungsoo and hana’s engagement party. the memory is a blur of stress and frantic planning, and she can almost feel the looming headache from the mess that’s undoubtedly waiting for her in her inbox. the thought of the endless list of tasks she needs to tackle—one so long it could rival a cvs receipt—makes her shoulders sag with exhaustion.

"hmm," she muses aloud, her tone thoughtful but distant, "i did tell my assistant that she needed to find us someone else since one of our other performers had to back out." she sighs, a sound heavy with resignation, wanting to wrap up this conversation so she can retreat to the relative sanctuary of her office and start putting out fires.

“wow, so i’m your second choice? you’re really breaking my heart today.” his tone once again dramatic.

[✶] rolled her eyes, barely able to suppress the grin threatening to break free. his dramatic antics, always over-the-top and laced with flair, were just so… him. the way he puffed out his chest and cast exaggerated glances her way was almost comical. a subtle smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, betraying her amusement even as she tried to keep a straight face.

'you weren't even a choice to begin with, baekhyun,' she thought to herself, the idea nearly making her chuckle aloud. but she quickly bit her tongue, knowing full well that voicing it would only encourage him more. she could already imagine his endless banter, the way he'd latch onto her words and turn them into an ongoing inside joke. and as much as she adored that mischievous glint in his eye, she wasn't quite ready to deal with the inevitable playful teasing that would follow.

so, instead, she simply shook her head, her smirk widening as she watched him. "well then, i guess i'll see you on saturday, baekhyun," she quips, her tone light yet laced with playful sarcasm. "can’t wait to see what all those fangirls of yours are drooling over. who knows? maybe i'll become one of them."

her words hang in the air, a teasing challenge that sends a shiver down baekhyun’s spine. he feels a rush of electricity as the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, the intensity of her gaze lingering even as she reaches for the car window.

with a slow, deliberate motion, the window closes, creating a tangible barrier between them. but instead of diminishing the tension, the thin sheet of glass only amplifies it, making the charged atmosphere between them almost palpable. baekhyun watches as her car pulls away, his heart beating just a little faster, hands beginning to sweat, knowing that saturday’s performance will be different with her eyes on him.

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[wyngigi]

ꕀ LUST FOR LIFE ꕀ 04

↳ sex money feelings die remastered .ᐟ cross posted on ao3

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“ they say only the good die young, that just ain't right 'cause we're having too much fun, too much fun tonight ”

↳ synopsis: a group of individuals find that their first taste of freedom in the world brings more obstacles than expected. some of them, find solace by drowning in liquor or in the backseat of somebody else’s car. a lot of them have got to get their shit together. a lot of them won't.

mdni » story contains nsfw content intended for 18+ audiences pairings » member specific, not listed for spoiler purposes ↳󠁪󠁪 ateez x female reader, ateez x ateez ↳ genre » coming of age ↳ word count » 2.3k ↳ general warnings » substance abuse & consumption, sexual content, morally grey characters, unreliable narrators, internalised homophobia, angst, basically every struggle young adolescence can go through ↳ a/n┆i hope u guys love this chapter as much as i do !! a little blast from the past always has me excited <3 p.s let me know which pairings ur rooting for after reading hehe (and yes next chapter we will be back at the party dont worry the drama has just begun)

04⌇memories of summer bring you

As San weaves his way through the crowd, past the drunken bodies of guys and girls alike, he finds himself reminiscing in just how much he had changed the past few years. Was it okay to live a life like he was right now? He’s not too sure. San first thinks of high school, then his thoughts float to you.

San watches the clock tick above his teacher’s desk, mind wandering as he scribbles on his worksheet with a ballpoint pen. He’s trapped in a god-awful environmental science class (which mind you would’ve been a free period instead), courtesy of not taking enough science courses earlier on to hit the credit minimum. It’s torturous, making him study about the world in a stuffy classroom when he could be out there learning by simply living in it.

San might just be a little salty, but the lesson isn’t actually that interesting either, so his mind has been elsewhere the last half hour. He’ll listen when it actually gets important, maybe. First he was daydreaming about buying a motorcycle and speeding off into the sunset, away from this boring sad old town to go live some larger-than-life bullshit.

Then he thought it’d be too lonely to do by himself, so he brainstormed an alternative. If he were ever able to do it, he’d probably try convincing someone to come with him. He hasn’t even finished his senior year, yet his ideas still don’t seem all that crazy to him. It might be farfetched to others, but San disagrees. If you aren’t dreaming big, could it even be considered a dream at all?

Then he starts wondering if his thoughts are too reckless most, if not all of the time, if attempting to move through life hastily would be too irresponsible and could scare the people around him. But he really doesn’t want to miss out on living, San wants to go see and do the things you have to go out of your way to experience. Something you make the journey for to begin with, not just a simple detour.

The type of stuff you have to just hold your breath for and jump into with no regret before it’s too late, the tide retreating, water becoming far too shallow. (He truly wasn’t lying earlier when he said he loves to be on the move, or that the thrill of exploring had always been dangerously enticing to him.) Those mantras, principles, whatever you wish to call them replay in his mind daily. They always have.

San knows the world won’t slow down and wait for him too. He sees it outside the classroom window right now, how the cars still pass down the street as the birds fly high into the sky even if he’s confined to his seat. San is well aware that it’s him who has to be the one to take the leap of faith and choose to start living. The problem is that sometimes he just can’t.

When San would think about the daredevils, adrenaline junkies, risk takers of the world, those who love to live on the edge of things, preparing for their big take off, he’d think of how he would love to be like that someday. Yeah, someday. The difference was he liked staying on the edge too much. Didn’t like the feeling of climbing to the highest point just for the glory if he could end up tipping over, see himself falling down and lose control of everything in the process.

When third period ends San makes his way out of class then down the hall, stopping at his locker so he can drop off the notebook and stationery he no longer needs till after his second lunch break. San knows he has PE next, so he quickly grabs his gym clothes. It’s not that he cares much about being late for it or missing out on any of the “action” though, he only really enjoys it depending on what sport they’re playing.

He likes the sports where his only role is to defend whenever a ball or something comes his way. It’s why he thinks volleyball is torture; trying his best to stay in his position once his team scores but then somebody is already telling him to hurry up and rotate. Those days are just endless cycles of torture. Actually, were.  He started to sit in the nurse’s office on those days.

It’s a good thing they’re doing netball today (he doesn’t have any more passes to sit in the med bay now). San has a lot of fun playing it. He’s even claimed the goalkeeper bib before anyone else can so much that whoever he plays with just lets him have it. The people he usually plays with are good enough to the point where the opposing team never even gets to his third of the court.

Goalkeeper suits him for that exact reason, he enjoys getting to win without even having to take a shot with the ball. San liked how it was so much he didn’t think or want to try being a goal attacker or centre. Well, maybe sometimes he did a little. There were a couple instances where he wanted to try a different role for the first time. San had gotten as close as picking up a different position bib even. Thoughts like that were shoved away quickly however, and the bib would end thrown back into the crate. The mere possibility of letting anyone down in case he was terrible outweighed his curiosity (and potential) on multiple occasions.

Failure was a funny thing; it had given him a terrible feeling that would sit in the pit of his stomach or make him so nauseous it was awfully dizzying. The funnier thing was that San had never truly failed at anything in life, simply because he had never tried much to begin with. That was the case, for quite some time in his life as he knew it. He had been growing more than okay with that knowledge as time passed, then one day he wasn’t.

As he turned away from his locker, San spotted you walking the opposite way to your own fourth period class, clearly getting ready to ditch the rest of the day. His heartbeat had sped up and his palms were awfully sweaty but for the first time ever, he shut out every reasoning voice in his head and chose to do something he never had the courage to before.

The two of you were in the same grade, so he had seen you passing by in the hallways always with both earphones in (to drown out everyone else he assumes, you never talked to anyone when you had them in while carrying an almost sorrow expression). Despite how you looked, you would still be humming away to a tune he could never fully quite catch.

He also knew your lunch times were spent eating shitty snacks from the vending machines and that you really liked the strawberry lollipops from the cafeteria (which they only sold every Friday for some fucked up reason, he overheard you complaining about it to your friends in math).

San would also see you after school with all of your cooler, older friends too. You would all huddle around the corner near the bike racks in the parking lot, out of sight from teachers so you could bum cigarettes off of each other. You’d also listen to music while you were there, only with one earphone in though so you could still hear everyone talk. He liked seeing that, you always looked happy and smiley talking to your friends.

The two of you weren’t complete strangers, but nowhere close enough where he could feel safe calling you his friend either. You shared multiple classes with San, greeting him with a small smile when you’d walk by his seat to get to your own (he liked that you’d always say hi to him even when he never did first). The both of you even worked on group projects together, but that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to know more about you, to take even the smallest peek at the inner workings of your mind. To find out how you always seemed to not care when things went wrong.

He thinks of your reaction when you would fail a test, how you’d simply shrug before shoving the paper into the bottom of your backpack. Immediately after, smiling as you’d turn around to talk to your friends about whatever you all planned to do that weekend. Stuff like that didn’t make much sense to him. Why would you not opt out of hanging out just for one weekend and study harder to do better on the next test like he would?

San supposes that’s what separates the two of you into vastly different worlds, yet he wants nothing more than to just step over that line and join you.

When he had spotted you there, on that humid summer day in early June a feeling had begun to settle into his stomach again. The strange bit was that it didn’t feel humiliating nor demeaning, but there was still something unsettling about it. It felt extremely foreign at first but now, incredibly comforting. Because for once, it didn’t feel like failure.

So, he then decided to call out to you. It was the very first time he had ever greeted you, without you doing it first. Your name exceedingly foreign on his tongue when coming out of his mouth while you weren’t sitting at your desks in a shared class. You had turned around at the noise, both earphones still blasting music into your ears.

Once you had recognised who the voice belonged too, you immediately had taken out both of your earphones with a smile. The tune he had never been able to fully hear, was now playing into the world for him to hear freely. He felt the corners of his mouth beginning to prick upwards at that. Yet with no plan of what words he would say now, San was immediately regretting his choice to speak to you. His fists were balled up in front of him, grip tightening on his clothes ever so slightly as he lowers his eyes down away from you.

The edge he always treads so carefully on was now unstable and he felt it beginning to crack already. You don’t leave him any more time to freak out over it though. When he looks up, he sees you already opening your mouth to say hello in the soft tone you always use, ushering him over.

“Hey, San. You want to come skip with me?”

The cool breeze flowing through the corridor, cooling down his cheeks just had to heat up again when he locked eyes with you, of course they did. Because San had always found everything about you pretty, from the first time he ever saw you. Not a day would there be a doubt in his mind of that. But, in that very moment he found you strikingly beautiful. In a split second, where his brain and his heart finally worked in unison he had responded hurriedly, before he could overthink it and regret it for the rest of his days.

“Yeah, I do. I’ll come along,” As he chucked his gym clothes back into his locker, a switch had been flicked on in his mind. When he turned around and saw you then, one lollipop in your mouth and a second in your hand, held out to him, a realisation had been thrown into his face like a bucket of ice-cold water. San had ultimately discovered that dancing on the edge was fun, yet leaping off it was much better. Even if the water was too shallow down below, San thinks he would be okay with that.

While walking away from the gym and instead down the hall with you by his side, San had spotted your earphones tangled up and peeking out of your backpack. That day, he settled with the fact that maybe it was okay to be a little too reckless, to move a tad too fast. Even if it could scare people, even if it scared him.

If you asked San what made him love that summer far more than the previous ones, he might mention his drunken bike rides with you and your friends, or the nights he spent laying on the beach with you gazing at the stars. Hell, he even liked the part time job he had to take up thanks to the party you helped him throw (which ended in that broken window he had to pay for). Spending a portion of his summer working as a server wasn’t fun in theory but when you’d visit him on his breaks or pick him up after his shifts, San had found it pretty worth it in the end.

He was truly happy in every moment back then; he’s enlightened even now, because all the memories of summer bring you back to him. Despite existing only as a brief moment in his own mind, San is content because whenever he closes his eyes he finds a version of you is there with him. He’s able feel the sun on his bare skin, with your lips pressed against his own again. His favorite bit being when the lingering hint of strawberries followed as you both pulled away.

Yeah, that’s exactly when it was. Three summers ago. When San had first decided it was alright to embrace being him, to be the person he still was today. All thanks to you.

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[forgotteneilionora]

OOC | Swords of Stafford

ok so our beloved kate just postedd the following

and it made me picture eilia, [ princess leia style, being like 'idk what ur talking abt' ] right to roderick's face when he demands the location of the stafford swords -- even tho they blatantly just had (two of) them during the war ladksjflkjsdfjkdsf -- while she still thinks that both her sisters and one of the swords have slipped away from between roderick's fingers alskjdflkjsdfjk

no, but it ~also reminded me that we never quite finished up talking abt the swords in question (my fault entirely!) but the rest of that's [ here ] and before that [ here ] and we've def talked abt it elsehwere in drips and drabs, such as establishing that they were meteor sowrds etc

anyway, since we also got talking general family stuff there <3 i thought id make a new stafford sword post so we can get down to business w the swords themselves <3

ok so here's what you/kate said last re: the sword of kings:

SWORDS I love the idea that the missing sword isn't really a stafford sword but a founder sword... any house could lay claim to it! (ooo what if each house has their own name for the sword so no one really knows what it was originally called!?) could we retcon the story slightly and perhaps add something in about the sword being claimed by someone who is there to save Astaira in its time of need? or reunite the kingdom? i dunno something along those lines i feel like would help play into the idea of rian/his dad that THEY should find this sword to rule astaira! and if/when roderick hears about it hes like... well i obviously need that to prove to all these HEATHENS that I am the one who is here to save their backwards country! And then there can still be the two stafford swords w/ siobhan running around w/ one which would still be a THING since its a symbol that could unify people and obvi that's bad for our favorite power hungry emperor! ;)

ok so obsessed w this line of thought!!!!

side note: this really ~does actually lend some credence to roderick's hope to gain legitimacy in astairan eyes by claiming the sword, doesn't it? bc...that's what the sword is for basically lakjsdfkljsdf still feel like the sword would betray him in some way or become a corrupt mirror to its usual self or smth in the hands of the wrong person but yeah!! this is just kinda happenstance for him ofc bc he always has this philosophy more bc he sees these ars trophies/symbols of power (plus he's a lil supersticious lbr) etc but this time he lowkey lucked out bc it really ~does lowkey confer some power alsdkjflkjdsf ofc it might kill him or drive him mad or smth who knows but anyway here we are a;ksdfjlksjdf (meanwhile the astairans still laughing at him bc he's going around w morningstar strapped to his side, still thinking its evenstar alksjdflkjsdf heehee)

i do still think the og wielder was def a stafford and it was forged from a falling star via ayla etc like we said but!! we've talked before abt how perhaps malconaire, lorcan, and stafford (and perhaps one or two others) were originally ancient kings in their own right and ultimately united to take down the gods as one etc so i can def see where the first king of a united astairan realm could easily have been a stafford and yeah!!

but yes!!!!!1 anyone being able to claim it feels soooooooo on point re: astairan values etc!!! and i def like to think that's still a thing!!! and yesssss! i love the idea that its for whoever is like willing to put astaira ahead of themselves or whatever, and not just abt bloodline!! and, like, what if its og wielder died thrusting the sword into the lock against the gods basically yknow that ultimate act of putting others before self etc kinda thing?

ok ok so this is WILD!!!!!!! what im abt to suggest laksjdflkjsdfj so no worries if you're like nahh lets not alksdjflkjsdf but like...ok so if a prev king stafford ~did die w the sword like...what if the sword isn't ~just a symbolic sword, what if its legit magical in some way (id guess a conjecting to air/night/sky or some kind and/or maybe souls? which're sometimes compared to aether anyway sdlakjfklsdjf) like...its got powers but its lowkey fueled by the spirit of its wielder/past wielders so like...its light and bright in the hands of a good soul, but turns dark and cold in those of one of ill intent, or whatever, and kinda drinks part of the soul, so you can randomly get some vibes from its prev wielders or whatever???? idk!! lakjsdfkjlsdf ANYWAY!! also @thelongforgottenrealm is this kinda concept even a thing in this world? hahaha

(not that anyone of ill intent truly could dislodge it from its current spot, but if someone of good intent did dislodge it, and it ~later fell into bad hands or whatever idk)

ok so we also left in our og thing some questions re: the name! our two biggest contenders were constellation and celestial. what do we think?

def feel like i came into this w some other thoughts on this topic but uhhhh idr them now so we'll just go w this! a nyway id love to hear all ur thoughts and ideas!!!!!!! <33333

[moran-with-a-g]

I'm just.... Why. Why would they do that. Who thought this was a good idea. What are they trying to achieve with this. Stop.

The official idf page uploaded this😂😂

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[rindough]

that first anon again: oh my god losing my religion by r.e.m. for boothill. this man is SO full of teenage angst, sitting in the corner of one of those old timey country bars all veiled in shadow looking at the person he has feelings for laughing and dancing in the crowd, completely mesmerised as he rests his chin on a hand with a focused expression, mouth slightly open, and absent-mindedly traces the rim of his glass with a finger from the other, almost without realising. You ain't slick, dude. Go talk to them.

God, I am so fucking normal about him.

OH YA i forgot to reply to a question from ur prev ask, sure! u can give me indie songs as well heheeee, and ngl i wasnt expecting this song but its one of my fav songs to vibe to!!!!

OKOK I GOT THE IDEA AND I FIND IT CUTE buttt i kinda put a twist to it if thats okay!

--;

so lets say you're a regular at this diner in town, you had your fair amount of visits here with your friends, your family, even alone. boothill has seen it all, but god at each time he tries to strike up a conversation with you, it either comes off awkward or him just flying off his seat from trying to 'smoothly' whoosh onto the stool.

he doesn't know what made him this... intrigued by your presence, why is it that everytime the door bell chimes, he glances by the door to see if it was you, the way your voice echo in the quiet diner, the way you spun around after you got your order and straight out the door you walked. he wants to know why and how has he suddenly had the balls to walk up to you, and just start some small talk.

unfortunately on his side, it got to the point where it only ends in 'hi's or 'i see's. he thought he could do it, he thought he could whoosh his way in n perhaps whoosh his way out out this diner with u tagging along. but look at where he is now, it's not that you don't get along, but with the way he looks into your eyes and stutter whatever he wants to say, fumbling over words and fall into silence while you wait, while you search his eyes, his body languages. Waiting for something more, as the man himself got you to become a nervous mess too.

but overtime, he gradually became standoffish, he no longer sits beside you at most of your visits, he doesn't look high up above the diner booth to check if its you (he observes from the window instead 🙄), he just waves, he just stands up to go at your presence, he just-

he no longer visits the diner.

in fear and perhaps shame, he and his cyborg body, you would prefer someone much more... human, right? what does it take for a cyborg like him to woo someone he fancies?

it's impossible, he thought. at this point, he'll just give up and not think about the thing people call, the thing he once dreamt of having, love. he'll just give up the act and focus on some... commission he has or whatever...

but does he really though?

"dude, since day 1, are you still gonna mess this right up?"

the voice behind him pulls him out of his trance, the spunk haired man stays put in his seat, the fold of his index rubbing his bottom lips while a thumb rests on his his sharp jawline. choosing to ignore the blond waiter by his side. the waiter throws his tablecloth aside.

"hello?" he snaps his fingers at him, earning a 'tsk' from the man.

"whaddaya want? can't ya see i'm busy?"

"busy doing what? staring at them from this corner of the bar? i know that look of yours, i saw what happened last time-"

"and what? what makes you think i stand a chance with them, best believe 'm gonna look after them from far away. they don't needa see me here, they don't gotta see me at all."

the waiter groans, as if the man in front of him is being blind or feigning ignorance to escape falling in love, to just... dwell in his insecurities. "bro, look at the way they look at you!"

boothill stays put, eyes blinking at your swaying form, your head shaking side to side at the music. the way you jump, throw your hands up, his mouth falls slightly ajar at the way you move. his throat runs a little dry at the way beauty could exist in many forms and at anytime, and this was one of the many times he had found beauty in you. he had found himself longing for you.

it's agonizing honestly.

both on your end and on his.

you're here swaying to the music from the speakers, mingling with other youngsters in your town, hoping that when you turn around to start talking, it'd be the one you've been looking for this whole time, the one whose clumsy way of flirting leaves you wanting more and more. the night was young and there's ample time for him to visit the diner, but... would he?

for him, he wishes he was the only one under your spotlight, the one making you laugh, oh how he loves the way your lips curl into a smile, the way your eyes twinkle.

if he was out there in the crowd with you, best believe he'll twirl and dip you down on the dancefloor and make you have the best night and dance of your whole life.

he turns his head sideways, looking at the blond. "what's with the way they look at me?"

then he turns back to observe you. maybe, just maybe, you would turn around at a certain degree and meet his yearning gaze. wondering if he can make you feel his presences by drilling holes into your skull.

"..." at this point he's defeated, he can't be bothered to explain all these lovey-dovey pre-dating crush nonsense to this sulking cowboy.

"y'kno mister, they've been looking for you every time when you're not around the diner. do i gotta explain more? do i gotta explain the 'where's boothill? have you seen him? has he visited today?'" he mocks, "ya wanna know what happened when i told them no every single time? they just left the diner- not ordering anything!"

the spunk haired man hums, now no longer focused on you, but instead, his back facing the crowd as he stares into the prepared drink before him, finger circling the rim of the glass as the complaints of the waiter goes unheard.

if what the man was saying is true, then... but... why? what made him special enough for you to promptly ask for him at every visit. and he bet it was every visit, since he's not even in the diner every day for months. so, why did he have to leave?

was it the fear of judgement?

was it fear of rejection?

or was it the fear of losing you?

so-

"so?" the waiter quirks an eyebrow, "what do you plan to do with that information-"

he can't back down now, the aftertaste of soulglad lingers the back of his mouth, he's walking, walking towards the crowd, thank god your back was facing him... otherwise he wouldn't be doing what he was doing now, otherwise he'd instantly run away again. and he does not plan to let you search for him again.

"hey." he whispers, smiling gently at the way you suck in your breath at the sight of him.

he never thought he'd feel his heart melt much more than before the moment your soft lips mellow into a smile, the twinkle of your eyes refreshing his past, yet brief memories with you.

"hi."

--;

©  2024 rindough, do not repost or plagiarize.

[thegalaxysedge22]

After Ever (Chapter 2)

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pair: sylus x MC (named)

tags/tw: cannon adjacent, made up medical shit, lowkey hippa violation, cursing, death & grief

word count: 7.3k

song rec: taste by sabrina carpenter (has nothing to do with this chapter but it is just so good)

taylor song rec: I Know Places (it's the arctic)

a/n: this one is gonna be a bit choppy cause we have so much to get through BUT we get to meet Pie, so ur welcome. also, please leave feedback or comment 🥺

important: if you want to follow this fic and updates but don't want to follow me bc im annoying (understandable) check out the tag #after ever fanfiction

Kore arrived at the Hunter’s Association’s headquarters exhausted. She got on the crowded elevator drinking the last of her coffee while she waited for the elevator to arrive on her floor. With a ding, the doors opened. She pushed her way through the few people left and stepped out onto her floor, business as usual. 

Upon arriving at her cubicle the first thing she did, primarily out of habit, was plug in her laptop. She brought her travel mug to her lips, hoping it would revitalize her energy only to find that the thermos was empty. Grumbling, she made her way to the breakroom.

Being the first person on her floor to arrive, or at least first in the breakroom, she was forced or cursed to brew a fresh pot of coffee. While waiting for the coffee to brew, Kore leaned back against the countertop with her head back and eyes closed, rubbing her temples.

“Wow, you’re here early,” a voice said. Immediately Kore’s eyes snapped open to find Tara on her way to sit at a table.

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep so I thought I might as well come in and get some work done,” Kore said, her voice gravely from lack of use. She cleared her throat and went over to sit down by Tara. “What are you doing here this early anyways,” she questioned her friend.

“Oh, I always get here this early. I find it nice to be able to get settled before everyone comes in. Plus I think it gives a good impression to the Captain being here early,” Tara responded, eyes sparkling while talking about Jenna, their boss. 

“But are you alright,” Tara asked, reaching out across the table, “I mean this with all of the love in the world, but you look like shit.”

“Well thank you for that,” Kore chuckled. She hadn’t bothered to look in a mirror after her all-nighter. Although she was no stranger to lack of sleep, Kore’s sleep schedule had been becoming more regular and socially acceptable, that is until the accident.

“I mean it’s a good thing we have this long weekend, am I right,” Tara said reassuringly before a spark of anxiety met her eyes, “You do have the weekend off right, you’re not one of the poor hunter’s that got stuck working over the holiday are you?”

“No, don't worry, I’ll be able to get some rest this weekend,” Kore reassured her friend. The coffee maker beeped, signaling that it had completed brewing. “Oh thank God,” Kore said in relief, getting up and pouring half of the pot directly into her large travel mug. She chugged most of it, burning her tongue in the process, but she didn’t care, she was too desperate to get more caffeine coursing through her veins. She was in the middle of refilling her thermos when Tara spoke again.

“Jeez, I’d say to chill it with the coffee but you look like you might need it,” she said jokingly. Kore offered her a playful glare in return. They heard the elevator to their floor at the end of the hallway ding through the open door. “I’m just saying. Anyways, I gotta get going, I think Capitan Jenna is here,” Tara said with a little wink before exiting.

Kore rolled her eyes before putting the pot back so it stayed warm. She exited the break room making a B-line for her cubicle. Upon arriving the computer’s screen caught her attention. Opened was the blank draft of the email she was going to send last night to Dr. J Higgins, the metaflux researcher. Sitting down at the desk, Kore rolled out her shoulders before typing out a message.

Hello Dr. Higgins, this is Kore. I work for the Hunter’s Association and was wondering if you would be available to answer some questions about the recent metaflux explosions that we are currently looking into.

She continued drafting the email leaving her contact information at the very end and hit the send button before she could second guess herself. Kore leaned back in her chair stretching, hoping that the day would be busy so she had something to occupy her busy mind.

By the time lunch had rolled around Kore was bored out of her mind, work had been slow and it was just one report after another. The appearances of wanderer had been minimal enough that other members of the UNICORNS team— she always found that to be a dumb acronym — were able to take care of it, which was strange because recently wanderer sightings had been on the rise. 

Earlier in the day she had sent a message to Zayne asking if he knew anything about what was in the documents that he had given her the day before. She hadn’t heard back from him until late afternoon.

“I had my suspicions about what was in them but I couldn’t be certain.” - Zayne

“If you would like we can go over it together later tonight” - Zayne

“That sounds wonderful. I’ve been confused” - Kore

“Okay. See you soon then.” - Zayne

Before she knew it, the day was over and Kore was packing up her stuff. After taking the stairs down to the lobby, Kore was shocked to find Zayne standing off to the side looking the other way. She ran over to him and tapped him on his shoulder. He jumped a little before turning, a look of relief flashed across his face for the briefest moment upon seeing who it was.

“Kore, where did you come from? I thought you were coming from over there, he said, slightly confused, pointing at the other set of elevators on the other side of the lobby.

“I took the stairs, you know, for my health and all,” Kore responded with a cheeky smile.

“Ahhh,” Zayne said trailing off. He looked off into space for the briefest moment before shaking his head and snapping back into reality. “Should we get going then?” he asked, gesturing ahead, which she nodded to.

The two fall into step on their way out the door. On the way to Kore’s apartment they had decided to stop and grab some take out for dinner. They fell into a comfortable conversation about each of their days, Kore being particularly interested in the research Zayne was working on. The pair stepped off the elevator onto Kore’s floor and walked together to her door.

“...and that’s how Protocore Syndrome type N works,” Zayne concluded as Kore unlocked and opened her door. What met them was a disaster, her apartment was still an absolute wreck from last night when she had torn it apart looking for her charger.

“Um… It doesn’t usually look like this,” Kore said to Zayne sheepishly. She guided him into her home and cleared off the table, moving the box of documents to the countertop. She then went to grab plates and silverware so that they could eat. Zayne unboxed the Thai food. They both dished up their food and sat down to eat. An awkward silence enveloped the atmosphere. Unwilling to wait, Kore got up and grabbed the documents to go through while they ate.

“Okay, so here they are, it says some things about how my heart has an Aether Core in it, but I don’t even know what that fucking is, and it says something about me being tested on but I don’t remember that at all, but it also says that my Grandma was involved somehow, her name is all over those papers, but that just can’t be right,” Kore started all in one breath, spilling out the thoughts that had been consuming her mind. She took a deep breath and continued, handing the folders over to him, “I just can’t imagine her doing something like that at all. I’m just confused, I mean what does this all mean?” By the time she ended her speech she was near tears.

“I am not that knowledgeable about aether cores, but I know someone who is. Let me read the documents and see what I can find before we go any further,” Zayne said, pushing his plate away and opening the first folder. He put on his glasses that he had pulled from his suit pocket.

Kore was so nervous that she could no longer stomach eating, so she took her plate and put the food in the trash before setting it in the sink. She grabbed the to-go boxes from the table and put them in the fridge for safe keeping. Looking over at Zayne his eyes were uncharacteristically wide so Kore pulled up a chair next to him and sat down.

Zayne looked over at her before positioning the papers so that they could both read them. The words that she read last night staring back at her almost mocking her. Zayne cleared his throat before speaking, pushing up his glasses.

“It’s saying that the reason your Protocore Syndrome is so different, unlike anything I have ever seen before, is because it was intentional,” Zayne explained, an atypical aura of uncertainty shrouded his words. “If this is to be believed, the condition in your heart is the product of an aether core being placed there.

“A good doctor knows his limits and there is more in these papers that I can’t fully comprehend, but my mentor Dr Noah would likely be a better resource when it comes to this. 

“However the excessive redaction in some of these documents,” Zayne said, pulling out a few from the pile, “could make it difficult for even Dr Noah to understand. I can’t offer you any guarantees, but I can provide you with some contact information if you would like.”

“Dr. Noah?” Kore questioned, “He was my old doctor, before you were. Didn’t he go to the Arctic to study something?”

“That’s right, I am surprised you know that, Kore,” Zayne responded, “He’s currently in Snowcrest studying the ways in which-” Zayne's eyes went wide and he cut himself off. He straightened his tie to regain his composure before continuing saying, “Actually I am not allowed to discuss his research. But I go and visit him sometimes to assist him.”

The gears started turning in her head, completely glossing over Zayne’s slip of tongue. I have a long weekend, I could go up to Snowcrest tomorrow and be back before work. That way I can get answers and that can lead me to closure. I know I promised Tara I would rest, but that can happen later, this is more important.

“I recognize that look in your eyes from when we were kids. I don’t think that it is a good idea to go up to Snowcrest, Kore,” Zayne said somewhat sternly, “The weather up there is often unpredictable, it wouldn’t be safe for you to go to a place you’ve never been all by yourself.”

“Then why don’t you come with me,” Kore said excitedly as if it was the best idea in the world. 

“You’re not going to give this up are you?” Zayne questioned after a moment’s pause and long sigh. The look in her eyes is all the answer he needs. “Alright, we can go tomorrow, you need to get some sleep, it is a long journey.” 

With that he stood up and went to the door, Kore following behind him. Before he left her apartment, Zayne hesitated at the door before turning back around.

“However Kore, there is one more important thing in these files that I think you need to know; it seems that your Grandma was one of the researchers involved with the Aether Core being placed in your heart,” Zayne said in his usual even tone, but his eyes were filled with empathy.

“Oh,” Kore responded meekly. After a beat she continued, “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, right? Meet at the train station?”

“Right,” Zayne said, looking concerned, but nodding anyways “have a good night, Kore.”

Ignoring the doctor’s advice, after he left she returned to the files at the table, pouring over them until the words lost all of their meanings. At this point she had been awake for well over 36 hours, and she was struggling to keep her eyes open. 

Kore woke up to a streak of sunlight directly on her face. The confusion of why she was plastered to her dining room table lingered until she remembered she was reading late into the night.

Shit, I am supposed to be meeting Zayne at the station soon, Kore thought to herself. Checking her watch she realized it was much later than she thought it was.  In a panicked state she quickly grabbed all of the papers, placing them back in the box and packed a bag for the weekend. If asked about it she probably couldn’t tell you for certain what was in there, but she made it out the door on time so that was all that mattered. 

Once she arrived at the train station, Kore put her hands on her knees, taking a moment to catch her breath. She looked around for Zayne and spotted him at a nearby cafe. He somehow spotted her at the same time and waved her over with the faintest hint of a smile. 

“Hi-” Kore says at the same time Zayne starts speaking. 

“I was worried you weren’t going to make it on time,” Zayne said as he stood up from his seat, placing a large tip on the table.

“Sorry about that, I woke up a bit late,” Kore said apologetically. Zayne gave her a single nod in return as if saying her response was acceptable. The two of them started walking over to the platform to wait for their train.

“I did some digging into aether cores, but there wasn’t too much literature out there on it, as far as I can tell they are a type of modified protocore, but as for how they are modified or to what extent I do not know” he said, cutting right to the chase. “I also alerted Dr. Noah of your presence on this trip,” he added

“What do you mean ‘my presence’?” Kore questioned him as they walked over to the train.

“He was already expecting me.” Zayne calmly said, “I was going up this weekend to assist Dr. Noah in his research, he said he had something important to show me.”

“Zayne, how do you know Dr. Noah again?” Kore asked. 

“Dr. Noah was one of my professors when I was in medical school. When I arrived at Akso Hospital he was about to retire from his position as Chief Medical Officer, but despite that he still helped me adjust to the new setting. He became a mentor to me while I was in my residency, and I owe a lot to him. Now that he has retired I do what I can to help him.” 

While Zayne talked the train to Snowcrest pulled up to the platform and they boarded the train, managing to snag a private compartment. Kore plopped down onto the seat and Zayne looked at her closely for the first time that morning. He saw the prominent dark circles and bags underneath her eyes and sighed in clear disappointment.

“I see you didn’t follow my advice last night,” Zayne said, shaking his head, “It is not wise to ignore your doctor’s orders, you know.” Kore could only give him a guilty smile.

Zayne sighed again, “It will be a while before we arrive in Snowcrest. Rest until then and I will wake you once we arrive.”

“Kore,” a voice said, while a hand shook her shoulder gently. Her eyes opened and she blinked groggily, once her eyes got into focus she saw Zayne crouching in front of her. “We arrived,” he continued, standing back as Kore stretched.

“Alright, let’s get going I suppose,” Kore yawned out. 

Outside of the station, in the dim light, they were met with a sparkling white landscape of snow. A small fox-like creature came bounding up for them, which scared Kore, who hadn’t noticed its presence prior nor did she expect such a thing to occur. 

The fox ended directly in front of Zayne and eagerly wagged its tail. Kore raised an eyebrow to the man, who took some food out of his messenger bag to give to the animal.

“This is Pie,” Zayne said, turning to Kore. “Pie, this is Kore,” Zayne introduced her to the animal, to which Kore sent him a curious glance. “Pie’s intelligence is on par with that of a nine-year-old child. Remarkably, he is able to recognize faces and remember names. Dr. Noah rescued him from Mount Eternal a few years back while he was doing some important research.

“It looks like Dr. Noah was unable to greet us at the station so he sent Pie in his stead,” Zayne explained further and Kore nodded in understanding.

Together they trekked in relative silence to the outskirts of the village to where Dr. Noah was residing. Upon arriving at his house, Zayne opened one of the back doors as if it was a regular routine and beckoned Kore to follow.

“Dr. Noah’s health isn’t what it used to be. Sometimes when I or some of my colleagues come up he has us let ourselves in,” Zayne said, navigating the home’s hallways with familiarity, “If he doesn’t show up at the station that means that we should let ourselves in.

“Here is where you will be staying,” Zayne said, stopping at a door on the second floor. “I will be in the room right across from you,” Zayne said, pointing to another door behind him with his thumb. He turned around, heading to his room but hesitated. Kore’s hand was turning the doorknob when Zayne turned back.

“You should really try to get some rest tonight, Kore,” Zayne said with full sincerity, “I am not saying this as your doctor, but as your friend.” 

“I’ll try,” she responded with a faint smile, “Goodnight, Zayne.”

“Good night, Kore,” he echoed.

At that, Kore entered her room and plopped down onto the twin sized bed, ready to get some sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come to her. She tossed and turned for what seemed like hours. Her mind was so preoccupied with questions about everything that had happened to her recently. She couldn’t help but wonder if the files had any connection to her grandma’s death.

Eventually she abandoned all hope of sleep. Deciding she might as well be productive if she couldn’t rest, she plucked a box from her bag and sat down at the small desk by the balcony, which she just noticed.

She turned on the small lamp, illuminating the room with a dim warm light. She finds a pad of paper and a pencil at the desk and realizes that it would be wise of her to take some notes and not just reread them, that way she can ask better questions of Dr. Noah.

Hours past and she had obsessively written pages of notes that would be incoherent to anyone but her when there was a tap in the balcony window. Jumping in her seat, Kore turned to see what had caused the noise only to see Zayne staring back at her from the other side of the door. 

Kore rose from her seat and went to the balcony. It was the earliest hours of the morning, when the sun was still shy and the stars are still shining bright. Zayne gave her a charming smile when she opened the door, moving aside to let him in.

“I had a feeling you would still be awake,” he said, stepping into the room. His gaze drifted over to the mess of papers on the desk and he raised an eyebrow knowingly. “Late night studying I see,” he said, reaching for the papers.

“Yeah, I have been trying to make sense of it all,” Kore said, picking up her pile of notes, handing them out to him “But it’s been exhausting and I don’t even know if I’m looking at the right stuff.”

“Okay, let’s see what you have so far,” Zayne said, grabbing the notes she held out to him. He attempted to read them, eyes squinting, but either because of the dim light or him not having his glasses he wasn’t sure.

“Hold on,” Zayne said before he stepped back through the balcony, returning moments later with his glasses in hand. “Alright, let’s take a look at this,” he said as he put on his glasses.

Kore giggled lightly at his demeanor, reminding her more of an old man than that of a young doctor. Zayne looked up at her confused as to what was so funny. She shook her head, refusing to elaborate on what she found to be humorous. He just gave her a weird look before directing his attention back onto her notes.

Reading them closer to the lamp this time with his glasses on, it turned out that the notes were just illegible to begin with, incomprehensible chicken scratch coated the page. The frantic, overlapping scribbles sent alarm bells off in Zayne’s mind, afterall, it was only natural for a doctor to be concerned about the well-being of their patient.

“Kore, what does this say,” Zayne asked without the hesitation that would be typical of not being able to read someone else’s penmanship. Grabbing back the notes, Kore looks over them, eyes becoming wide.

“I-I, I honestly don’t know what this says,” Kore admits, “I guess I was so wrapped up in my mind I wasn’t even looking at what I was writing.”

A brief pause circled between them before Kore bursted out in laughter, after a brief moment Zayne joined in and the atmosphere shifted. They end up dropping the important conversation and talk late into the night like old friends would. Kore talked about becoming a Hunter and the pressure of taking the exam, which brought them to discussing Zayne’s time in medical school, which led into stories about his time up here helping in research and anecdotes about Dr. Noah.

Soon enough morning arrived, beams of sunlight slowly crept their way across the room. Kore and Zayne’s conversation slowly started to dwindle with the appearance of daylight. Zayne notices the clock across the room and stands up.

“It looks like it might be time for breakfast, we should probably get ready” he said moving towards the balcony door, “I’ll meet you downstairs.” Before he left her field of view he stood there and calculated something in his mind.

“It was nice talking to you again, Kore,” Zayne said with a small, unsure smile. A large, genuine grin spread across Kore’s face, the biggest since her grandmother had died.

“I really enjoyed it too, I will see you in a bit, Zayne,” Kore said, shutting the door behind him. Zayne nodded and disappeared into his room.

Kore arrived in the kitchen after she had made a few wrong turns. The sight that met her was unexpected. At the stove Zayne was cooking something that smelled delicious and at the countertop Dr. Noah was chopping vegetables. 

Before she could officially make her presence known a small ball of white fur came rushing over to her. Stopping at her feet, Pie sat wagging his tail and let out an excited yelp of sorts.

“Pie, not inside the house,” Dr. Noah scolded the fox. Looking up at the noise, he noticed Kore’s presence.

 “Ah, Kore, I see you’ve already been introduced to Pie,” Dr. Noah said with a warm smile, his fondness for the pup clear in his voice. “It is nice to see you again. Come and join us, breakfast is just about ready,” he continued, passing the vegetables off to Zayne. He moved towards the small table in the corner of the kitchen and gestured for her to sit.

“Did Zayne tell you how Pie got his name?” the elderly man asked once they both sat down. Without waiting for a response he continued, “When I first rescued Pie, one, no two, no three winters ago, he was a weak little thing, and was practically on the verge of starvation. 

“Well, the vet said that he was perfectly healthy but I don’t know about that,” he interrupted himself, wagging his finger. Zayne came over with the pan of food and divided the contents into three portions at the already set table. It was clear from the bored expression on his face that he had heard this tale many times. Dr. Noah paid no mind to him and kept on talking.

“The little thing was so hungry he ate not one, not two, not even three, but six whole meat pies at once,” the doctor said, making a bunch of exaggerated hand gestures, “At that point I knew for certain what his name would be, there was no question about it.

“After I nursed him back to health, I tried to release him back into the wild, like you’re supposed to do, but this little bugger kept coming back. It was clear he wanted to stay with me, so I kept him. It turns out that he is a smart little fella and mighty good with directions, so he has become my little guide. Visitors and the folks in town absolutely love him, and how could you not, he is such a good little boy.”

He showered the small fox with love while praising him, giving the animal scratches under its chin and some of the food off of his plate. Kore cleared her throat, sitting up straight as she did so. The old man looked at her with curiosity in his eyes, weaving his hands together and resting his head on them.

“Dr. Noah,” Kore started trying to gather some courage, “I have some questions about my heart condition and I think you might be the best person to ask.”

“Oh, my dear, it is much too early to talk business. There will be plenty of time for that later, for now let’s just enjoy each other’s company,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Dr. Noah believes in a strict separation between his work and personal life.” Zayne leaned in and said to Kore, “It is best to follow his wishes so you can stay in his good graces.” Kore noded in understanding.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, tell me, how are you doing, Kore,” Dr. Noah questioned her. She was about to form a response when he continued, which seemed to be a pattern for him these days, far from the patient man she once knew. 

“I heard about Josephine, dear, and I want to offer my sincerest condolences,” he said, grasping her hands across the table.

“Thank you,” Kore responded, mildly uncomfortable. Zayne stayed as stone faced as ever, as if this was usual behavior for the man.

“You know, your grandmother and I used to good friends back in the day, we were two of the few students picked to intern at Ever, even back in the day they were a big deal, not quite the global behemoth they are today, but it was still a very competitive prestigious internship,” Dr. Noah recounted fondly. “Your grandmother was a phenomenal researcher, one of the best I’ve ever seen, and back then she had to be, I think she was one of the first women to get an internship at Ever too.

“But you should have seen her in the lab, well you technically did when you were younger, but I don't know if you remember that, either way I was disappointed when I learned she had decided to leave the field. Josephine was one of the greats , it really was a shame to have her leave, as far as I am concerned, science lost one of its best that day.”

“Thank you for telling me that, Dr. Noah,” Kore said, tears welling up in her eyes, the reverence that he held her grandma in being clear.

Zayne glanced at his watch and pointed out the time. “We’re going to be late if we don’t get going now,” he said.

Dr. Noah turned to the clock on the wall confirming the time.

“Well gee golly, you are right, thank you my boy,” the eccentric old man exclaimed while slapping his knee, “Let us all meet back here in let’s say 20 minutes, yes?” Dr. Noah turned to Kore, “Oh you are coming with us aren’t you, Kore?”

“Um… sure,” Kore said questioningly

“Great” he said with a genuine smile, patting her on the back and leaving.

“Um Zayne,” Kore said, anxiety creeping into her voice, “what did I just sign up for.”

“Don’t worry, you will be alright. We are going to Mt. Eternal to take some measurements. Just be sure to dress warm, it gets cold out there.” Zayne said before leaving her all alone in the kitchen.

Zayne hadn’t been lying, Mt. Eternal was practically a tundra. Kore learned about SnowDogs, a robotic replication of an old fashioned sled dog that was faster than real ones and was used by tourists and locals alike. Pie had tagged along as well and was yipping with joy as the SnowDog brought the team from checkpoint to checkpoint. The pair of doctors collected measurements for who knows what, not Kore, as they went along.

“Dr. Noah, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions,” Kore said, having to shout of the wind as the sled was being pulled to a new location.

“Yes, Kore,” Dr. Noah said, an aura of professionalism had enveloped him since they had reconvined, this was yet another side different from the  friendly doctor she had known growing up.

“I was wondering if you could tell me a bit more about my heart condition, I never really understood what was wrong with me,” Kore questioned, picking the doctor’s brain.

“Well that is a bit of a complex answer. You see Protocore Syndrome is a unique disease that is still being studied, there is not a lot of literature currently available. Most of what we have on the disease comes from small sample sizes and because each case presents so differently, studies are difficult to replicate,” he answered distractedly, as they had arrived at another of the data taking points.

“Although there are different established subcategories of Protocore Syndrome, namely types A, E, and Y, there have been proposals of a few more types. I have written papers about what I believe to be a distinct type of Protocore Syndrome, type H, which is the type that I believe you have. When you were a kid Josophine authorized the scientific study of your unique condition, which was why you were always in the hospital, as she knew how important the research was, especially in the early days of the disease.”

This new information had surprised Kore, her grandma had never told her about being the subject of a scientific study. Quickly, complex emotions developed on that, Kore understood that it would’ve been important, but she couldn’t help but feel betrayed by being used as a guinea pig without her knowledge.

“Your unique subtype presents various difficulties with your heart and nervous system, difficulties that are only exacerbated under pressure, which is why I warned you against becoming a hunter. But boy did Josophine give me a talking to after I did that. She had wanted you to have the ability to live a normal life and pursue your dreams, plus she said that you were ‘too damn stubborn’ to back down from becoming a Hunter.”

Dr. Noah continued on with more medical jargon leaving Kore lost. This man was clearly a genius, but he was communicating with her as if she was a peer of his rather than some clueless patient that had no idea what he was talking about.

“You were, excuse me, are an interesting case both medically and scientifically. In fact you were one of the reasons that I stayed a doctor for years after reaching the retirement age. Sometimes I wonder how you are doing. If you were to ever give me the honor, I would love to be able to see some of your more recent medical records,” Dr Noah admitted, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“Umm… sure, yeah,” Kore said, stunned.

“If you would be comfortable with it Kore, I can pull up your records once we return to Dr. Noah’s house,” Zayne said. Kore was slightly taken aback that he even had remote access to her records, but Dr. Noah was beyond delighted with the news.

It was early in the evening, around dinner time, when the group returned from the mountain. The numerous layers that they had on for warmth were quickly discarded at the entryway. Ever true to his word, Zayne was quick to grab his tablet and pull up Kore’s recent medical records.

Before placing the tablet in Dr. Noah’s outstretched hand, Zayne said to him sternly, “As a former medical doctor I assume that I can trust you to only look at Kore’s files and not any other patient.”

“You have known me long enough boy to know that I would never do something like that,” Dr. Noah said with a trustworthy smile before waving the younger doctor off, “Now go and take your shower, I know the sweat bothers you. No need to suffer through it, besides Kore might want to hear some of what I have to say privately.”

Zayne looks between the two and gives them a stark nod before heading off.

“Now that we got him out of the way, we can get down to business,” the doctor joked before his eyes combed through her file. “It looks like your recent results have been changing a bit, but considering your position as a Hunter and your, uh… unique condition, that is to be expected.

“Would my unique condition have anything to do with what resides inside my heart,” Kore asked him, unsure of how much he truly knows.

“Ahh…” he said with a knowing smile, “It seems that you found out about the aether core. Am I right in assuming that?”

“Yes, I did learn about the aether core. How long were you and Grandma going to keep that from me,” Kore asked, the feeling of betrayal in her voice clear.

“It was not my decision whether or not to tell you about it. When I saw you, you were only just a kid. It was up to Josephine, your guardian, to decide to tell you what you needed to know,” he said with a sympathetic smile.

“Did Zayne even know about it?” Kore questioned accusingly

His smile dropped, a serious look overtaking his face, “No, he did not.”

“Don't you think that this would be important for, I don't know, my doctor to know about,” she said, her voice raising.

“Aether cores are considered to be top secret. I could not tell him even if I wanted to-” Dr. Noah was cut off.

“So you wanted to keep him in the dark, just like you kept me?” Kore growled.

“Look, my hands were tied, there wasn’t much I could do,” he said, attempting to pacify her. “If I was able to tell you I would, it wasn’t up to me, the same thing with Zayne. I am sorry, Kore, but there is more at play here than you know. That is all I can say on it.

“Would you like to return to your records and we can discuss it in more detail now?” he asked.

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Kore said as she crossed her arms, clearly still upset from the whole ordeal.

“Alright, so it is important to understand a bit more about Protocore Syndrome to understand why you are such a special case. You see, Protocore Syndrome is usually caused by exposure to protocores, but that isn’t the case for you,” Dr. Noah started.

“You have a modified protocore, an aether core, inside of your body. I am not quite sure how it got there but your grandma had told me that you were attacked by wanderers during the Chronorift Catastrophe fourteen years ago. You were among the first people ever to be attacked by them, especially attacked by them and survive. Quite frankly you are lucky to be alive from that alone.

“Josephine also told me that you were saved by someone who took out the wanderers that were attacking you, which, again, is a miracle considering we had no idea how to deal with them at the time.

“With this information I have always hypothesized that when the wanderer attacking you was killed, that fractured its protocore, and somehow part of if ended up residing in your heart. I cannot be for sure how it happened as by the time I had first seen you, any external injuries from the attack had healed.”

For the first time, probably since Kore met him, Dr. Noah seemed to be uncertain about what he was saying, almost as if he knew more than he was letting on. Unsure what to make of that, Kore filed it away in her brain for later. Nonetheless, Dr Noah continued on.

“There is also an issue with your Evol. It is relatively rare for someone with Protocore Syndrome to have. But, it is seen more in those with aether cores.”

“You mean there’s more people like me?” Kore asked, intrigued for the first time.

“I only know about a handful of people, but yes there are more like you,” the doctor said reassuringly, however he was quick to walk some of his statement back, “Of course I cannot share much about them with you, and even I am not privy to such knowledge.” The doctor chuckled a little as if he was trying to make her forget his slip up.

“Well, anyways, I should probably be starting on dinner soon,” he said, changing the subject.

“Do you need any help Dr. Noah?” Kore asked, standing up.

“No, no, no. Sit back down. Besides, you are a guest here, I wouldn’t dare make you lift a finger,” he said while pulling out a large stockpot and potatoes.

“Well, what about Zayne, wasn’t he helping earlier with breakfast?”

“Oh, no, he doesn’t count. He has been here far too many times and he needs to start pulling his weight around here,” Dr. Noah said, struggling to carry the pot full of water to the stove.

“If I can’t help with dinner then what can I do,” Kore asked, getting antsy.

“My dear girl, didn’t you hear what I just said? You are a guest here,” he said before pausing, “If you insist on doing something why don’t you sit and listen to an old man’s stories? But you have to stay seated.”

Kore sighed defeatedly, but nodded in agreement. Content with her response, Dr. Noah smiled at her as he pulled out a cutting board.

“Would you like to hear some stories about your grandma?” he asked, seeing Kore’s face change to one of interest he continued, “Where to start… Ah, I know..” As he cooked, the old doctor told Kore stories about how he had met her grandmother and the antics they used to get up to.

He continued to speak, cutting vegetables haphazardly as he went, causing them to be in all different sizes and shapes. Kore wasn’t sure if he knew what he was cooking, or if he even knew how to cook. He would use the large chef’s knife that he was wielding to make wild gestures as he talked.

“... she always had a soft spot for you and Caleb, even before she adopted you when the experiment was forced to stop,” his eyes went wide as he realized what he had just said, “Whoops, sorry I can’t talk about that. I mean it’s just the ramblings of a silly old man, pay me no mind.”

Kore’s eyebrows furrowed. What the hell is he talking about? Grandma adopted us after we were orphaned during the Catastrophe. Is his memory okay? Kore thought to herself, confused and concerned. But there was already a seedling of doubt in her mind from the fact she had never told her about the aether core.

It was just then that Zayne made a reappearance. Dr. Noah sighed in relief as he walked in and the focus was shifted away from himself.

“Perfect timing, Zayne,” he said with a big smile, “Dinner is just about ready, why don’t you get out some bowls and spoons to set the table.” Zayne did what he was told. “Oh, and grab that loaf of bread over there, and some butter too, it will pair well with our soup.”

Zayne had an uncharacteristic look of horror that flashed over his face, which was missed by Kore and Dr. Noah alike. He hadn’t even thought about the doctor cooking by himself; he had been so used to helping him in the kitchen the realization that Kore wouldn’t be never crossed his mind.

Humming happily to himself, Dr. Noah ladled large servings of the soup, into each bowl. He insisted that both Zayne and her start eating right away while he returned the pot to the stove, continuing to mess around in the kitchen.

Beyond hungry from the long day, Kore eagerly started to eat. The soup, or was it a stew, was an otherworldly experience, just not in a good way. Stunned that the elder man was able to create something that was practically a non-Newtonian fluid, she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

She had no idea that something could be bland yet overwhelming. The last time she had tasted something this salty it was when she was a kid making cookies and Caleb switched the salt and the sugar. Caleb had found his prank hilarious… until he got excited about the cookies and stuffed about three in his mouth. Grandma, who had intended to punish him for the prank, found the whole thing funny and decided that he had punished himself enough. Although annoying at the time it was now a fond memory, even more so now that they were gone.

“In his old age, Dr. Noah’s taste buds have gotten dull,” Zayne whispered leaning into Kore, “don’t worry about actually eating it. If you would like, you can just pretend to so you don’t have to worry about hurting his feelings. After dinner I will clean up and make it seem like you ate the entire bowl.”

Noise radiated from the kitchen, clearly Dr. Noah was looking for something, there was a small grumble of curses before he gave up and returned to the table, clearly upset.

“Oh, there’s the bread!” he said joyously. The old man chuckled to himself and sat down. He was quick to devour his bowl of soup and did so eagerly. He even went to go and grab seconds.

“What did you guys talk about while I was away?” Zayne asked, folding his hands on the table. Kore found it to be a thinly veiled attempt to avoid eating the soup, Dr. Noah, however, paid it no mind.

“I was just telling Kore over here some stories about Josephine and our time back in school. She was quite a riot,” he said, seemingly delighted to share. “You know, come to think of it, she isn’t the only/first colleague of mine who interned with me at Ever to die recently. There was also James Higgins -”

Kore looked up at that name and her stomach dropped. “James Higgins? As in Dr. James Higgons, the professor at Linkon University studying metaflux?” she asked worriedly.

“The very same, did you know him?” Dr. Noah responded.

“No,” Kore admitted dejectedly. Zayne gave her a questioning look to which she mouthed ‘later’ to.

“Ironically enough it was a metaflux explosion that killed him,” the doctor continued, glossing right over Kore’s response. She sat quietly for the rest of dinner.

Next >

[imoncloud7]

part 4;

prev. | m.list | next

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written portion at the end!!

"god fuckin' damnit." yn sighed as she put her phone down. she was currently in her last lecture of the day, contemplating how she got into this mess. and how all of her friends suddenly knew oikawa tooru. and how he found her twitter and followed it.

yn had met matsukawa issei in their last term during their first year of school, and while they were not too close, they did have one thing in common. they loved to go out. their drunk escapades slowly began to include mattsun's not-boyfriend-but-boyfriend makki, and they all slowly began to get a bit closer.

being that all of their friends were intertwined, it would be a matter of time before they all figured out what was going on between oikawa and yn. their hookups have surprisingly pre-dated all of yn's friendships in college, which have been difficult to come by. being from another country and also an introvert were really big roadblocks.

oikawa never seemed to care about that though. the first night they met, during their first term in their first year, he had approached her at some sort of welcome party an older student was throwing. yn had quickly figured out that he was a chronic flirter, but had enough alcohol in her system to go home with him. which ended up happening every weekend of the first year, and now second year as well. it was nice for yn to have physical contact, as that was hard to come by now having broken up with her ex and being that she had close to no friends in japan. it was a distraction, something that satisfied her needs with no feelings.

these days however, now that he knows more than just her first name and how to please her, it's too complicated. and wildly uncomfortable.

flashback: 1st term, 1st year

"smoking's not a good look on such a pretty face like yours" yn heard behind her on the balcony. the inside was stuffy and the music felt like it was eating her eardrums alive, so she had made her way outside for some peace and quiet. only for it to be disturbed.

"oh yeah? and who are you to have an opinion on that?" the girl looked over her shoulder to see who was behind her. she was met with a pair of chocolate brown eyes and windswept hair to match.

oikawa thinks his heart may have stopped when she turned to look at him. he had seen her inside and thought she was pretty, sure, but out here was a different story. the moonlight caused her e/c eyes to glow, and her hair seemed so much softer out here. his eyes widened a bit and he choked on his words a bit before responding.

"im oikawa. oikawa tooru. and sorry, truthfully i couldn't think of another way to approach you." he walked up towards the edge of the balcony, taking his place to her right. she took a long drag before offering it towards him wordlessly.

"no thanks, i'm an athlete i can't really do that stuff."

"but you're at a party, clearly intoxicated. i wonder what your coach would think of that." she shot back.

"touche. you never told me your name." he chuckled in his response.

"yn."

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notes:

the "smokings not a good look on you" line was actually used on me

i was at a club in singapore and an old man (maybe like 50-60 yrs old) literally started talking to me while i had a cig in my hand like go away u creep im 20

he texted me on whatsapp later abt that like mind ur business

idk why i gave him my number tbh i just wanted to see if hed buy me drinks

anyways i love matsukawa issei (whats new)

little flashback moment to when their whole affair started!!

either the next chapter or the next two chapters shi may go down