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awrkive · 5 months ago

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NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 1 — JJK

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, (eventual) smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.2k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3 mature language, this chapter's pretty tame (for now) but theres a lot of FLIRTING, if u squint this story is a mosaic of every shows i love lmfao, for the apartment complex just imagine the namil villa from the kdrama fight for my way NB!JK VISUALS

NOTES hello im back!!!!! remember the jk in tech xmas fic i told you about last year? this is it except its not a xmas fic anymore lmfao. had an idea to make it a full blown story and im just sooo excited to share it with u guys on this platform!!!!! if ur from wattpad, the chapter system is gonna be a little different here but the content is not <3 anyway let me know what u guys think!

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO

You never settled your relationship with the summer season. To put it simply, it was a love and hate sort of thing; you liked that it was dry, and the air always felt like it was filtered and healthy even though you were well-aware of the current shit-state of the Earth's ozone layer. There were beams and sunlights and street vendors and people lying on the park's ground. Summer felt nostalgic, like the first time you bought a vinyl in highschool and listened to Fleetwood Mac in secret because your mom was certain they peddled cocaine and all sorts of illegal drugs, and with a highschool friend you no longer talk to, not because of a friendship-breaking betrayal but something more melancholic than that like drifting apart as you got older — the ambience, generally, was what you loved the most about it.

But regardless of those, summer got hot. Sure, you could forgo layers of clothing and it was always nice to lounge about in short bottoms and strapless tops and sandals, but at the end of the day, you needed to set your AC on the lowest temp, and it cranks up your monthly rent a greater percentage which causes a detrimental result to your monthly pay. (And you always had to reapply make-up every now and then whenever you went outside because if not, you'd be a sweating mess.)

In the grand scheme of things, though, there was nothing more than you disliked than Park Jimin, your best friend since college, asking you to be his plus-one on his mom's birthday dinner. For the second time.

“I told you, Jimin, I’m not doing that anymore. Your mom called me fat and recommended a bunch of expensive skin care products to treat one single zit on the side of my forehead the last time you brought me there. I hid that with my bangs and she still saw it, like what the hell? The baked lasagna might have tasted good but I’m not stepping one foot in your house ever again.” You spat out, rolling your eyes at your friend who just dramatically flopped himself on your bed.

“Okay, so I’m really sorry about my mom. She’s a…” He trailed off, looking at you with meaningful eyes that weighed words you knew he couldn't exactly say without feeling bad, and you sighed. Nodded in understanding. Jimin’s face contorted into a cringed expression at that. “... yeah. But! Please. I swear! This is the last time. I just really need you to be there. They’re setting me up with Heesu, okay? You know that snotty nepo baby of the Kang clan who owns Kang Tech?”

“Jimin, you’re a nepo baby.”

He hit you with a pillow. “I am but I can earn a hundred thousand won without my family’s money. They can cut my credit cards and I'll still be thriving.”

You broke the serious demeanor and laughed loudly at his seemingly confident claim.

“I’m sorry but you could not even get a job at a burger joint without some nepotism let alone have a hundred thousand without your dad’s credit cards. Bitch, you’re just lying.”

“Fuck you. I was employee of the week at Seventh Street Burger.” He backfired, referring to that point in time in your sophomore year where you picked up a part time job during the summer at a burger joint and Jimin just decided to come along randomly. He got it because the owner knew of his dad.

“Yeah, because Sowon had a crush on you?” You said, remembering the owner’s daughter, who was also helping out at the store at that time. She was so smitten by Jimin you almost felt bad for her.

“Okay, fair, point taken. No need to be such a bitch about it,” Your best friend said with a dismissive wave of his hand, telling he was over it. You only laughed at that, boisterously, might you add, just to piss him off for no reason. Jimin deadpanned. “But seriously. I think they’re planning to marry me off to Heesu.”

Your face fell out of genuine concern this time.

“Oh my god, really?”

Jimin once again cringed visibly. “Yeah. I mean from a business lense it makes sense. But me marrying at 33? That makes me – like – a child groom.”

“Oh… yeah…” you trailed off, sympathizing with him. Not that you've ever been in the situation where your parents forced you in a sham marriage for their own wealth because there was no wealth to begin with. But you felt bad for Jimin. You always have, when it came to this particular subject.

You knew how it was with rich people, having known Jimin for almost half your life. It was true that arranged marriages were still a thing, and while Jimin seemed that he could pretty much do everything he wanted because of his free-spirited nature, his parents could still most likely make him marry someone he barely knew. Solely for business.

“Ugh.” Jimin groaned. “Should I just come out at the dinner so they can stop linking me to women? I’m gay as fuck, man. My cousin Park Youngdam would have a field day given that homophobic fucktard has been calling me the f word ever since he learned it in seventh grade.”

You shook your head, visibly cringing at his words. You didn't have family yourself. It was your mom who raised you alone for all your life, until she died five years ago. Didn't know any extended family. But frankly, you thought it was better that way than to deal with a complicated family like Jimin's.

“Nah. I mean if you’re ready, well, do it. But like, your parents are…” You two shared a look together again, and Jimin just slapped his palms over his face, indicating his doom. Your face twisted with another shot of deeper sympathy for him.

“This is it for me. They’ll marry me off to Kang Heesu and we’ll fly to the US and live in Massachusetts to fulfill her white picket fence fantasy. I’ll be a miserable husband and she'll be an even more miserable wife because she’ll eventually find out I’m gay. The neighbors will start talking and the white republicans will shun me out of the town church. We’ll have a surrogate baby and—”

“Jimin, what the fuck!” You hit him hard on his arm as you couldn't keep a straight face anymore at his dramatic monologue. “You’re not gonna marry Heesu and you won't live in fuckass Massachusetts and no one’s gonna shun you out of the town church and you won't have a surrogate baby.”

“It’s a possibility.” Jimin shrugged.

“I feel like you're guilt-tripping me into agreeing to be your date again at your mom's birthday dinner and I think that's very evil of you.” You said, squinting your eyes at him.

“Well, duh? But also, I’m really kind of lowkey highkey scared they’ll marry me off to someone now that I’m pushing forty.”

"You're quite literally seven years away from forty." You countered.

He looked at you with an expression of I know right! And he told you so.

"That's what I said to mom and dad, but they're acting like my sperm will freeze next year. God, I can't stand them!"

Jimin, for all his jokes and unserious and bitchy behavior, was someone extremely important to you. Yeah, sure, he was rich as hell and he annoys you when he says something that reeks of too much nepotism but he was never intentionally snotty, never thinks he was better than everyone else (Jokes about how he thinks he has the fattest and juiciest ass in the world, though), and he wasn't at all like the rich people you've had the misfortune of interacting with at his mom's birthday party last year. He might be a self-proclaimed bitch but if you put him together with those people, he might as well be one of God's disciples.

For all his crass language and rather strong personality, Jimin was a doting friend who was there for you every single time. You could call him up at 3 am and he’d be at your door bringing Chinese take out and two tubs of ice cream, ready to hear you vent about your stupid job or a guy that you fumbled by being weird and off-putting because you didn't know how to handle a relationship. He was the kind of friend who would defend you in front of anyone else but will mercilessly tell you off and list down all points of your stupidity once you were in closed doors. He was the kind of friend that would ask you to be his pretend partner at a birthday dinner party, but he was your best friend ultimately and even if you had a big problem with his family and their extremely traditional (read: toxic) ways, you didn't want him to be pressured into coming out just so he could avoid to be engaged off to another random heiress. Didn't want him to do something he wasn't ready for. Didn't want him hurt or anything of the sort.

The last dinner wasn't even that bad, if you were to be honest. His parents were shitty, yeah sure, and the other guys in there that consisted of politicians and businessmen and people in the showbiz industry were something taken out of the toilet bowl for how stinky their elitist, better-than-you personalities were, but you both just totally forgot all about it by getting wasted at the local bar right after leaving. Not that his mom’s words didn't sting a bit or didn't make you a little conscious, but at the end of the day, you weren't actually dating Jimin so you didn't care what his parents thought of you.

Additionally, you didn't have something planned for the next two weeks when the birthday would be happening. You were supposed to, but that ship has long sailed when you fumbled a date with the guy at the IT department. For the record, you didn't really like him that much and he talked too much about his job and while you didn't mind that, it was getting a little too tiring. If you wanted IT lessons you would’ve majored in it in college. Still, Shin Taemu was handsome. And he wore those rounded glasses. Was tall. Had nice arms. Too bad he wanted to be the next Mark Zuckerberg. Fuck that guy.

“Ugh, I don't know,” you groaned. “It's just so disgusting to be your girlfriend, okay?”

Jimin audibly gasped. “How dare you? A lot would jump on this ass.” He said with incredulity seeping through his voice, pointing to his bum.

You rolled your eyes. “Not me, obviously. Before you take offense—”

“Offense taken.”

“—it’s just that you're like my cousin and when you call me honey I want to crawl out of my own skin.”

Jimin laughed at that while you looked miserable, remembering those moments from last year. Seriously, how could you have fooled anyone in that party that you were banging? You swore you looked like Ariana Grande and Troye Sivan in that one music video? (Jimin was the one who showed that meme to you, by the way.)

“So I won't call you honey. Just babe.”

“Ew.” You quickly retaliated.

“Ohh, the homophobia is sho-wing.” Jimin sing-sang, ever the mature individual he was.

“Fuck off, seriously.”

Jimin just giggled and then scooted closer to you. “No but like, are you coming? ‘Cause jokes aside, I'm just gonna find someone else if you really don't wanna do it. But you know you're always my first choice.”

“First choice when you do some stupid shit.” you countered, rolling your eyes for the nth time that night. Jimin would be the cause of your eye surgery if ever they got dislocated or something.

“That’s my biggest act of love.”

“I don't want it.”

“I’ll double what I paid you last year.”

“Double it again and give it to the next person?”

Jimin flipped you off. “I’ll give you my nintendo and I’ll get you a card at that coffee shop you love so much.”

That caught your attention. You raised your brow. “On god?”

“When did I ever lie to you?”

You deadpanned. “We won't finish this conversation if I list all the times—”

“Okay, okay, point taken. But I'm really serious. Please, please, please, please be my pretend girlfriend on my mom's birthday party please, please—”

“Shut up. Ugh,” you could already feel the big smile creeping up Jimin’s face when you let out a big sigh. “Okay, I’ll do it. Buy me boba now.”

Jimin tackled you to the bed and hugged you and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you! Best best friend ever.” he delightfully said, grinning widely, eyes almost disappearing in his triumph.

Your face contorted into a disgusted expression while Jimin just laughed as you pushed him so hard he almost fell off the bed.

“You are a disgusting limpy sack of dicks! Also, I’m not your best best friend, you don't have a wide selection. I'm your best friend. Period.”

“Unfortunately.” He waved you off and when you were about to retort something his phone suddenly rang. You watched quietly as he put it over his ear. “Hey, you just landed?”

If it was a private conversation Jimin would've left the room but since he didn't, you decided to stay in bed, kind of listening in to the conversation, but also not, as you turned the volume down of the show you were watching earlier on your laptop.

“Nah, you want me to pick you up?” Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. “Sure, I’m free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?” He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. “Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?”

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, “Well, my cousin’s apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on.”

“Is that one of the non-problematic twenty percent cousin lineage of your very complicated family tree?" You asked, referring to him telling you one time that his family, including the extended ones, was eighty percent shitty and twenty percent decent.

Jimin chuckled at the inside joke. "Well, yeah, he's one of the good ones. Knows I'm gay."

"Oh, nice."

Jimin stood up from your bed. “I’ll get you your boba and head off. Gotta pick cousin up or he’ll start throwing tantrums at the airport.”

“Add extra pearls please.” You told him, watching as he clicked away on his phone to get you your drink.

“I spoil you too much.” Jimin said, clicking his tongue, eyes still on his phone.

“What are you here for if not my glorified sugar daddy?”

“I will kill myself in front of you.” Jimin deadpanned, getting a chuckle out of you.

You didn't know the psychology — or if there even was psychology — behind feeling embarrassed when you were about to cross a path while carrying huge boxes. It was a normal task, and yet, it always felt like a huge walk of shame when you did it.

It was probably because you had to carry it over a flight of stairs, and there was no way you wouldn't trip on yourself carrying two heavy boxes in your hands that were already disrupting your vision.

Maybe it was your fault for choosing the pick-up option when you were checking out these furniture online, all because there was a huge increase on the fee for door-to-door delivery. For the record, there was a huge gap and the boxes were not really that heavy to the point you could not carry them both. It's just a lamp and a portable desk, you thought a week ago when you opted for the pick-up option, I could carry it all the way to the unit just fine — and obviously, your delusion has resulted to this very moment.

As soon as you managed to walk over five steps, you felt as if your oxygen supply just got cut back, panting like someone fresh from a marathon. Damn. You definitely needed to work out a little. Maybe do some squats for your New Year’s resolution, commit to it for three days straight then forget about it for the next 362 days of the year.

You looked ahead of you and a string of curses let themselves out of your mouth automatically as you estimated the number of stairs you needed to get through to get to your apartment.

This day sucked! It was Sunday and you planned to wake up at five am to have a productive day but then you slept through your five alarms and woke up at eleven am instead. You ran out of eggs and you had to go to the convenience store to eat a sad meal of yogurt and kimbap. And now there were these boxes that you needed to carry over what seemed to look like six million of stairs. You weren't Sisyphus! And where were your goddamn neighbors when you needed them?

"You need help, ma'am?"

"Jesus Christ—" you turned to look to your right only to see a man who seemed to own the previous voice.

And Jesus Christ, indeed.

He was wearing a white shirt and some shorts, Nike sliders on his feet and a pair of headphones on. He was wearing glasses. And he had a tattoo sleeve.

What the fuck.

What the fuck!

It has been so long since you thought a man was crazily attractive. Okay, well sure, the guys from the IT department were something else (or you just had a weird eyeglasses fetish, Jimin once pointed out, that you still — to this day — vehemently try to deny) but you’ve never been this taken aback by someone’s face before.

The guy’s lips tilted a bit, some sort of greeting maybe, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed, fearing that he caught you looking at him longer than necessary.

Oh god. This was pathetic! He was a stranger! He was a man! He just had a cute face attached to a very good body with an arm full of tattoos and he was tall but you were sure he wasn’t six feet two. Also, he had hair that looked fluffy from where you stood and a pair of eyeglasses but Jimin was just bluffing when he said you had a fetish for them. Right?

You were performing mental gymnastics until you realized he was asking a question.

"Oh! Uh, no, thank you. It's fine." You said, embarrassed at the way you almost jumped in surprise earlier.

But the whole thing was ridiculous. What, because there was a very fine man across from you the universe suddenly decided to fuck up your fate by making you be seen by that very man struggling with boxes all the way up to your unit? Couldn't it just have been on a day when you did your make-up and dressed up in that overpriced dress you bought hundred bad choices ago?

You fumbled with the boxes a little bit before continuing your way up, nevermind the guy whose response you didn't wait for because you needed to get the fuck away from him before you say something weird and off-putting.

Truthfully, you could use the help. But at what cost? A fine man carrying them? Okay, that wasn’t so bad. But what were you supposed to do with... all of that?

As if the universe was indeed trying to prove to you that you were, in fact, not its favorite creation, you almost tripped. And the guy most definitely saw it.

Fuck.

You turned to the side to see him looking at you, concern etching his face. You wanted to convince yourself that it was genuine concern because you'd commit something that would totally change the trajectory of his life if he was to laugh.

But you thought his own unit must be way up as well, as he was going to the same path as you, and if that was the case, he must have been a new neighbor in the complex because you've never seen the man before.

“Well, it’s not that heavy but…” you trailed off, looking blankly at the cardboard boxes. And then at him. "I could use some help, if you don't mind."

The guy just chuckled. Oh wow, his laugh was very... low.

You didn’t even know what the fuck that meant.

“I’ll get them for you.” He said, crossing the small distance between you and taking over the pile, leaving you with nothing in your hands.

“Oh, no, I’ll have that one. It’s fine.” You said, stepping closer to take the other one but he was already securing it in his hold, with stability this time, ready to take off.

He let out a small laugh again and you bit your tongue to not think about how cute he looked. If he was a new tenant, you hoped you didn't cross paths with him ever again.

"It's okay, ma'am."

He's got to stop calling you that before you do something drastic.

“It’s quite far from here, I'm all the way up to three-three-six.” You uttered, pointing forward, a few steps behind the guy, who hummed at what you said.

You quickly caught up to him. "Really, thanks for doing this."

"No problem, it's nothing." He said, smiling at you. Warm and kind. All cute. "I'm all the way up to four-four-six as well."

Your eyes widened. "No way, that's just across mine."

The stranger, apparently your neighbor now, grinned.

"Nice coincidence, huh?"

A sheepish smile formed on your lips. You didn't dwell on that comment too much. Knew it was just small talk.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you a new tenant here?” You asked out of genuine curiosity. You had never seen someone come out of the unit across from you out of all the four years you'd been here.

He nodded, agreeing with what you presumed.

"Yeah. Just temporary, though.”

“Oh…” A surprised sound. Maybe it was a good thing he was only staying temporarily... “I hope I didn’t inconvenience you or anything. You really don’t need to bring the boxes over to my apartment.”

The man just chuckled, dismissing your worry. “You looked like you could use a hand, these boxes are big. Anyway, I was just out checking 'round town. Settling in.”

From the sound of it, you'd assume he was not only moving in in a new apartment complex, but new city as well. Perhaps country? But he most definitely looked Korean. But maybe he came from abroad. Who knows.

“Yeah, there's a really nice coffee shop three blocks away. You should check it out sometime. Ji—my friend and I are obsessed with their iced caramel macchiato. And the boba.”

His brows furrowed in pure interest. “That must've been the one I passed by this morning. I’ll make sure to try that one.”

“You really should. And the barista gives you a brownie on Sundays if he likes you.” You shared like it was gossip, mentally taking note to visit the cafe sometime this week.

“And I'm sure not everybody gets the privilege?” The guy looked at you funny, and that made you laugh.

"Of course, yes! You have to earn it, I think. I feel like I spent over a million there before he started giving me brownies."

"Hope my charm works on him as well," he said, and it caught you off guard.

What did he mean, "as well"? Like he was speaking from the basis that you had charm and so he hoped he had it as well to get the barista to like him?

"Well. He's strict." Was all you could say, before you spotted your apartment. "Hey, I'll take it over from here."

The guy looked over the plated number on the door, reading three-three-six just as you said earlier. Trudging forward, he set the boxes down on the side of the porch.

"Thank you, really. This was really nice of you."

You extended your gratitude once again as if you didn't spend the walk up to here thanking him non-stop, sounding like a broken record. Thank god the guy didn't seem to mind your over-the-top gratitude, only waving his hand.

"Told you, it's fine. You need help with a few boxes again and just ring me up across," He joked, turning around slightly and looking at the door across your unit, Unit 446. It earned a chuckle from you. His face turned serious now, but there was still a charming smile on his face. “Hey. I’m actually pretty new in this town. I was thinking about visiting a few restaurants downtown, maybe you could recommend me some?”

You didn't mean to, but you took note the way his doe eyes seemed to shimmer even behind the frame of his glasses.

“My favorites are just, like, a ten-minute walk away. There’s this restobar near that drugstore when you turn left from this building, right?” The guy nodded, and you were slightly delighted he knew right away. “Yeah, their ramen's great, you'd thank me forever.”

He chuckled at the way you said it and you smiled.

Your interactions with new people were always a range from pure silence to oversharing; talking to them like they were your long lost friend whom you’ve milked goats with in your father’s orchard. It was probably just a product of introversion; not knowing the right approach to socializing.

“Thanks for the recommendation.” He said, a genuine appreciative tone lacing his words.

“You’re welcome. If I can ring you up to help me with some boxes, you can ring me up for some restaurant recommendation.”

"It's an exchange, then. Deal."

"Why not?" You shrugged, laughing along with him when he did so.

You both stood there for a while until seconds passed. You didn’t know exactly how to end the conversation, not that you wanted to, but there was nothing that went to your head to talk about more. And besides, he was probably headed somewhere, so you began to speak.

“Hey, so I’m going in—”

“What about we—”

“Oh.” You stopped. “Sorry, what was that?”

The guy just shook his head. “Nah, you’re probably busy. Thanks for the recommendation again.”

“No, seriously, sorry I didn't hear it the first time...”

“I was just gonna ask about the name of the restaurant.”

“It’s Midday Miso.” You told him, smiling.

“Midday Miso,” The guy nodded, “Yeah. Got it. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, and, uh, thanks. For the help.”

You took your keys out from your shorts and you didn’t expect to still see him standing in front of you when you turned around. You jokingly squinted your eyes at him.

“Yeah, you first, get in.” He said with a low chuckle.

It was a little embarrassing and pretty stupid how your heart fluttered a bit at that.

“What a gentleman you are,” You respond with a snort, opening the door to your unit and pushing the boxes inside your apartment. When they were in, you turned to look at the guy again, saying, “Okay, bye for real. See you around. Hope you like Midday Miso if you try it. And the coffee shop. It's called Brown Coffee.”

“See you around.” He did a little wave that made you both laugh before you closed the door.

When the lock system clicked, you stood on your doorway for a little while.

And then fake-cried.

You quickly clicked on Jimin's pinned contact on your phone.

You [5:35pm]: JIMINNNNNNNNN You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY BITCH IF U DONT RESPOND You [5:36pm]: I HAVE A DIABOLICAL CRUSH AND ITS GOING IN THE MEMOIRRRRRR

It wasn’t even one full minute when Jimin replied.

cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: oh my god SHUT UP!!! im at a training program for ghis stupid ass company my fathers been running fir 600 years cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: whats up cuntress #1 [5:38pm]: its always a crush and never a job 😒

You [5:39pm]: yeh so remember when i told u im oacking up my vagina last summer

cuntress #1 [5:39pm]: many such times

You [5:40pm]: 🖕 You [5:40pm]: SO raincheck!!! You [5:41pm]: COZ I just met a fine man at my apartment AND flirted with him You [5:41pm]: i think

cuntress #1 [5:42pm]: ohhhhh OK???? cuntress #1 [5:43pm]: cuntress #2 flirting???? now thats not uninteresting go on while i fake a restroom break 👀

You [5:45pm]: this story is not for the imessages baby get ur ass up and ICE CREAM WITH ME NOW.

cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: omg 😭😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: i’ll be off 7:30pm wait for me 😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:47pm]: i also have #stories to tell

You [5:49pm]: 🤭

There must be a time where you finally grow up and learn to cook.

You were a twenty-eight-year-old woman and yet, your meals sadly ranged from instant noodles, canned goods, and food from the nearby twenty-four-hour provision shop. Sometimes, you had the gall to cook something from scratch—but with scratch you meant scratching off the labels from food take-outs and reheating them in your microwave.

Jimin had told you one time you would die at twenty-nine with your lifestyle. You told him he couldn't tell you shit because he didn't know how to cook either, he just worked out and ate healthy stuff, and you did, too! But Jimin knew you, and in an evil manner, clocked you with, "Buying fresh produce and not consuming them does not count as healthy living."

Anyway, you never understood why you were so bad at cooking. Your mother, as you remembered her, was decent at it but you guessed it was because she never really taught you and you never really bothered, either. In some immature way of thinking, you'd like to think it was a win for feminism as you were battling patriarchal standards by not conforming to stereotypical "female" qualities. But deep inside, you knew cooking should be a survival skill.

Well, maybe Jimin was right and you would indeed die at the ripe age of twenty-nine. On the bright side, at least you wouldn't have to pay off your student loans and your monthly rent.

In relation, not knowing how to cook meant impractical visits to the restaurant, and that was how you ended up at Midday Miso for dinner after your shift.

It was only a little over seven pm when you entered the restaurant, the ahjumma quickly greeting you and preparing your usual, a sign of familiarity that implied your countless visits ever since moving in at your current apartment building.

Regular visits meant usual sitting spot, and in your case, it was the high stools that faced the glass walls of the restaurant's facade where you could see the busy street making that little area of the town alive.

As minutes overlapped with one another, your food was served and you were hit with the waft of the restaurant's delightful signature beef ramen and bibimbap that the ahjumma made sure to add extra beef on.

Eating with a happy heart made you feel like nothing in the world mattered but you and the food before you, so, you didn't pay attention to the person who was coming to your direction and eventually sat beside you, but what caught you off guard was when said person suddenly said,

"Hi."

When you turned to the side to see who it was, your eyes widened as you said in both recognition and surprise, "Unit 446?"

"That's me." He, Unit 446—in the flesh—said with a low chuckle, twisting himself so that he was sat appropriately on the high stool. Still, his body leaned towards you when he continued to say, "Fancy seeing you here."

You grinned, flattered at the casualness of his approach.

"Same to you. I wonder who told you about this local gem."

He pursed his lips. "A nice neighbor across my place... whom I still don't know the name of."

"Oh, shoot!" You'd face-palm right now if he wasn't looking, but truthfully, you didn't even think about that! You've just been referring to him as the Staircase Guy slash Neighbor 446 in your head and when you told Jimin about him. You laughed at the thought. "That neighbor of yours is __."

Neighbor 446 nodded and extended his hand to you

"I'm Jungkook."

It was a little silly but you shook hands, anyway, and knowing it was, indeed, silly, you both laughed together at your joint connection.

Jungkook. Huh. Not exactly a common Korean name, but it wasn't rare either. The name does ring a bell though, felt like you've heard it somewhere before.

You brushed off the familiarity as inconsequential.

Unlike the completely casual attire he adorned the first time that you met him, he was now in some sleek slacks and a white polo which sleeves were ridden up half high, which exposed the vines of ink on his right arm once again. There's a coat that hung around the back of his chair, and he had forgone the glasses this time around, which was a bit of a shame on the part of your brain that might have a silly crush on him.

Jungkook's clothes seemed to mirror your own business casual ensemble, and that made you think about what he possibly did for a living. Maybe he worked a corporate job just like you, and the prospect might have made you down a little—only because as far as you were concerned, corporate people weren't the most pleasant people you could encounter—but it was not something you dwelled on too much because you couldn't care less. If Jungkook was corporate, he sure didn't seem to be one the way he was.

Besides, you wouldn't be the one to bring up the depressing and aggravating conversation about gross grown-up things like... jobs... Eurgh. You both could just talk about the weather or how insane the ahjumma's ramen tasted for eternity.

"Well, hello, Jungkook." You greeted him. All warm and soft, testing the syllables of his name on your tongue. Rolled off well enough. He had a nice name that sure fit his face for some reason.

"Hi, __." He mirrored the soft smile on your lips, and just as he said it, the ahjumma was heading towards your direction to give him his order.

In that usual way grandmas reacted, the ahjumma gasped audibly—and dramatically, might you add—upon seeing Jungkook, but what she said next made you want to dig a hole under your seat.

"__-dear! Is this young man your boyfriend?"

Good thing you weren't consuming anything as of that moment, because it would've entered the wrong track.

"Ahjumma!" You laughed, totally not authentic at all because your face didn't match it, looking at Jungkook who just sent a shy smile her way.

Ahjumma must have seen you both talking to each other and had completely jumped to a conclusion. An insane one at that!

Shaking your head, you clarified, "This is Jungkook. A friend. He's new in town and checking out all the stuff around here. I recommended him this place."

You saw Jungkook nodding along with your words while he helped her set his table.

The ahjumma just shook her head. "I apologize, then," She looked at Jungkook and as if gossiping with him, whispered in a not very subtle way, "I keep on telling this girl to date already! Such young beauty shouldn't be wasted, you know."

A tsk-ing sound made its way through her mouth, and as much as you were starting to feel embarrassed that she was telling on you on Jungkook—who was literally a stranger to you a day ago and whom you may have a teeny tiny bit of crush on—you knew ahjumma did not have any malicious intent and just chose to laugh the whole thing off.

You heard Jungkook do the same.

This was ridiculous.

"Ahjumma, I told you, you're gonna be the first one to know when I date. For now I'm just a part-time accountant and a full-time promoter of Midday Miso." You pout at her, trying to dodge the topic of romance altogether.

Not in front of Jungkook.

"Ayee," She gave you a side-eye. "Fine. I'll bring over some extra beef."

You mouthed an enthusiastic "yes!" and raised your fist in the air with excitement, and Jungkook looked at the interaction with a smile on his face.

As the ahjumma walked away, you looked over at him.

"I'm glad you came by—" You identified his order to be the same one you used to be obsessed with the first few months you came to the restaurant. "—and ordered their best seller. You sure know how to be a tourist."

"Looked good on the menu. The ahjumma also seems to be nice. Seems like she's a close friend, huh?" Jungkook said.

"Totally."

And it was the truth. There was just something about ahjumma that made you feel reminiscent about the grandmother you've never had. Ever since you moved in and became a regular at this place, it felt like she's taken care of you and your relationship had been special since.

"This is really good." Jungkook commented after having his second bite, and you nodded in agreement. "She was serious about the beef thing?"

You chuckled at the mention. "Yeah, she always gives me extra."

"You just always get free stuff around these areas?" Jungkook joked which earned a hearty laugh from you. You remembered telling him about the free brownie on Sundays at Brown Coffee, a little bit surprised he recalled that.

"Now that you said that, I actually do." You proudly shared. You've been in this town for so long that the various faces just went from familiar to friends.

Jungkook nodded, his face showing amusement.

"I have to learn your ways, then."

"The secret to that is be incompetent at cooking. It means it's either take-out or eat out. Business owners around here have no choice but to see me every three days because I can't cook my own meal."

You could see Jungkook's amusement growing every second, and to add faux insult to injury, he joked, "Oh, bummer."

You decided to ride along with that.

"You mean you're a good cook? That's the real bummer! And here I thought we were bonding." You said, purposefully trying to sound scandalous at his implication of being a good cook.

He shook his head instantly, chuckling. "Okay, nah. I'm not that good. Just decent. But I'll have you know I can make a mean tangsuyuk. Any other complicated stuff is out the window, so there, we are bonding."

"I appreciate that you're under the assumption that I know where to begin with the non-complicated stuff. You're already putting way too much faith in me."

"I seriously doubt that." Jungkook laughed once again.

"You know what my friend tells me? That I'd die at twenty-nine because I don't know how to cook."

Jungkook almost keeled over hearing you say the words, and as much as you were amused at his own amusement, you decided to further add on the joke because you were enjoying this way too much.

"Wow. I wouldn't doubt you'd be an accessory to my murder the way you're laughing way too hard at my impending death. That's next year, you know."

Jungkook reached over for the glass of water and drank it. While he did so, the ahjumma had come over to give you the beef she promised. You did not forgot to thank her as soon as she went away.

You did hope Jungkook didn't notice the malicious wink she sent your way.

"Fuck, sorry." Jungkook's laughter had gone down this time, but his eyes still showed a hint of mirth when he asked, "You're twenty-eight, then?"

You nodded. "Yep." Unfortunately, you thought.

"Oh, that's actually surprising."

A gasp left your mouth. Jungkook was quick to correct himself.

"I meant it's surprising because I thought you were way younger."

Oh.

"Don't flatter me. I won't share my extra beef with you."

"I thought—" He shrugged. "—Early twenties."

"I'm guessing you are in your early twenties." You joked back.

"Okay, now, don't flatter me. I know how old I look." Jungkook said with a dismissive tone, but nevertheless light-hearted. Just like how this whole thing was going.

God, you were so in awe of how good he was at talking to you that he was practically bringing out the extrovert in you you only ever show to exclusive people like Jimin.

"So, you're like, fifty, then?"

Incredulous, Jungkook burst into laughter. "Wow."

"Sorry, just that you sounded like you were five years from retirement! Anyway, you look like we're the same age?"

He shook his head. "Three years older. Turning thirty-one later this year."

Jaw dropped. Not physically, but mentally.

"Oh wow, you're basically—" a fucking DILF! What the hell!

Thankfully you managed to cut yourself off before Jungkook could think you were way off your rocks and embarrass yourself in front of him for eternity. You could just hear Jimin from miles away telling you off about calling thirty-year-old men DILFs even though you didn't know if they had a child.

What do you mean this guy was thirty and why did that just make him even hotter in your head... He's got to stop this madness before you do something completely incomprehensible.

"—A senior." Was the lame thing you came up with to finish your sentence.

"Ouch." Jungkook said, but his word was completely opposite to the expression he was wearing on his face the way he just couldn't suppress the grin that had been visible on his mouth since you started talking.

You brought your hands up.

"Totally didn't mean that in a negative way."

Which was the entire truth. So far, the things you knew about him was that he had tattoos, a nice body, a nice personality, good ass freaking conversationalist, and that he was thirty! Thirty! As in, the peak of male hotness. The evil psychological concept of most men only getting hotter as they age.

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Jungkok nodded. "By the way, are you heading out after this?"

"Oh, yeah. Don't have anywhere else to go. I have a nine A.M tomorrow so..." you shrugged, and he nodded in understanding.

"You work as an accountant, right, from what you told the ahjumma?" Jungkook asked you curiously.

"Yeah... it's a very tedious job." You grimaced a little bit. "What about you?"

He tilted his head a bit, picking up a dumpling on his plate. "I'm a software engineer."

"Oh, that's cool."

You nodded to yourself while you processed what he said.

Works in fucking tech; another thing you just learned about him.

You weren't actively seeking out guys in tech, but why did they seem to come to you voluntarily? God forbid you saw someone who wasn't in there! Was every man working in tech now? Was Jimin really only being truthful when he said they were exactly your type?

"Have you made any software or is that, like, a wrong assumption about you guys?"

Jungkook merely chuckled at your retort.

"Not entirely, no. I've designed a few software in college—I'm still doing it. I'm just currently doing more business stuff now." He gave you a sheepish smile. "You?"

"Well, it's just... you know—I actually work at a tech company. I'm a junior accountant. And, uh, nothing interesting, really. You get to do cool math like programming, and I get to do boring math like calculating money I don't have. It's always a great day at work." You said, couldn't help the laugh that skipped your mouth at your own sarcasm.

Nothing like joking about hating your job to someone who you just met yesterday.

"Programming and coding are not all that, either. It's tedious and... it's just a really boring job. But... it all pays the bills."

You chuckled.

"Yeah. Totally."

Without minding it, you raised the small glass of soju, initiating a toast, one that Jungkook understood immediately and met you in the middle of it.

The night was still you when you walked out of Midday Miso, but unlike any other nights, it was with Jungkook this time walking beside you.

"So you just—what—hid him for three months?"

"Well, yes! I wasn't about to get a notice for that! And besides, he was really cute. But he's in good hands now, his owner still sends me pictures of him. He's very grown and big."

"That's insane."

You peered at Jungkook who watched you in awe as you told him about the story of Alfredo, the cat whom you rescued on your way home from work a year ago. The landlady obviously had her fair share of rules and regulations in her building, and keeping pets was an absolute no, which was a shame. Definitely wasn't a shame when you first just moved in the complex, but things got lonely sometimes when you were living alone and company was almost a luxury.

Anyway, as told, you managed to keep Alfredo out of the landlady's sight until you found a highly qualified parent on some online forum who you still kept in contact with to this day.

But as you watched Jungkook, you noticed the way his expression fell into something concerning. He looked worried, which made you feel the same way as a result.

"What are you thinking?" You asked him curiously.

"Oh, nah, I was just... thinking. See, I actually have a dog."

"Oh!" You looked at him wide-eyed.

He has a dog; another thing about Jungkook that would qualify him on the regular rounds of hot boy of the month on Twitter dot com.

"Yeah."

"You didn't read the terms and conditions of the building?" Your eyebrows formed a concerned expression.

Jungkook chuckled and shook his head. "I did. I just—suddenly thought about him, is all. He's being taken care of some place. But, you know, I missed him, and I was thinking about getting him here and showing him around my new place and all that."

"Oh... that's a bummer, then. The landlady's strict, even with the small dogs, can you imagine? Is he small, by the way, your dog?

"He's a Doberman, so definitely a big one."

"He must be really cute. What's his name?"

"Bam." He smiled at you, and you could totally see the pride showing on his face at the mention of his dog. And with a tone that you could only identify as someone who's suppressing his enthusiasm a little bit, he added, "You wanna see a picture of him?"

"Sure!"

Jungkook took out his phone from his pocket and showed you images of a big, chocolate brown dog. Bam definitely wasn't like the other regular Dobermans you'd see around. His ears weren't cropped, and his tail wasn't docked either. You didn't know if the lack of surgery was intentional from his side, but you'd like to think he kept it that way because he knew it hurt the dog greatly. From how you've been knowing him, you were certain he just didn't want to put his dog under unnecessary pain, which was honestly heartwarming to think about.

Jungkook was becoming way too good to be true in you head little by little.

"Awe, he's adorable!" You cooed, especially when he swiped through the picture of his pet, Bam, as a pup in what seemed to be Jungkook's arms based on the familiar tattoos that peeked from the exposed arm as seen on the picture. The tattoos also seemed to be new at that time as well, considering that the skin was still yet to be fully covered like now.

"I'm flattered you think that."

"Where is he, by the way? If you don't mind me asking."

"He's at a... friend's place in New York. He's not very good at flying so I didn't bring him with me here, and I thought, I'll only be here for three months, anyway, so." Jungkook shrugged.

Three months. Well. He did say he was only staying here temporarily.

You nodded. "For business, right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"You grew up there?" You kicked the stone that was caught at the tip of your shoe, putting your fists in the deeper part of your coat's pockets. Summer may be hot during daytime, but it sure as hell was cold on nights like these.

"Nah, I'm from Busan. Flew to California for college and have been there since. Until now, that is."

Jimin was also from Busan, you thought. Though he said they only lived there for a few years until his parents moved to Seoul, but he made sure to visit his hometown every now and then. Most of the time, he made you come with him which you never had complaints about. You lived in the city all your life so going there, especially in the more urbanized area where you and Jimin stayed. Felt like fresh air—which Busan had, quite literally.

"My best friend's from Busan too."

"Really? What about you?"

You chuckled before answering, "I, unfortunately, did not come from any interesting place. Born and raised in Seoul, through and through. Though my mom told me she lived in Daegu for many years prior to having me."

"Seoul is an interesting place, though."

"Eh. It's okay." You shrugged, and your nonchalance made you both laugh.

The walk to your apartment building from Midday Miso was not that far. Still, it was five blocks away and while you and Jungkook were currently sharing conversation together and seemingly walking the same path, you weren't sure if you were both walking together there.

As if he read your mind, he suddenly spoke after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"You mind if we walk together to the building?"

You decided to joke to get the jittery feeling out of your system.

"Scared of the dark, Jungkook?"

"Sure... my five-eleven self is."

You squinted your eyes at him. He did not just go there!

"Is that a slight against my height because I'm five-seven, mind you."

Jungkook stopped in his tracks which made you do the same, and you watched as he put his hand on his waist while the other reach up to his face to place a finger over his chin, seemingly assessing you up and down. You looked at him incredulously.

"You're bumping your height to two inches." He seriously said.

You gasped audibly.

"Oh, shut up,"

You rolled your eyes and turned your back at him, continuing your walk as you heard him behind you bursting in laughter at your reaction.

"I'm kidding!"

You first met Jimin at a college party. He was five years older than you, supposedly out of college by the time you attended, but he always had a problem with rebellion–what with his ragged relationship with his parents, he would intentionally flunk his courses as a message to them that he'd always be a black sheep and a proud one at that, hoping it would be enough to convey that they could not force him to be the heir of their company. (Obviously, it had taken him nowhere, given that he was now currently attending a training program to work at said company).

But maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he was set back to five years for graduation. Because you got to know him, and he got to know you.

On the outside, you might look like the total opposite of each other–because Jimin was the definition of extroversion who wasn't afraid to put himself out there–while you, admittedly, were more reserved and usually shied away from any public attention.

As much as you were welcoming to a lot of people, you didn't have a lot of close friends growing up–at least not the kind of friends you'd see on TV shows–but when Jimin came to your life, you clicked so instantly you could not even figure out where you two exactly began.

The instant way you two clicked, you realized, was like your relationship with Jungkook nowadays.

Ever since that night at Midday Miso, you've been seeing a lot of each other. Granted that it was only in the same place, same time. You'd usually arrive past seven and he, a few minutes later. Jungkook, cladded in his slacks and long-sleeved polo, was becoming a usual sight after a shift, and your business casual clothes was turning as one for him as well.

Your usual seating spot became his as nights passed, and ahjumma, thank God, no longer asked you if he was your boyfriend. You were glad that she was slowly getting acquainted with him though, greeting him with a friendlier smile and tone reserved only for customers like you when he entered the restaurant, and Jungkook seemed to welcome the newfound friendship wholeheartedly.

On the consecutive nights you'd spent with him, it was almost as if you lived quite the same life. Though, you didn't know when he went to work. In fact, you didn't see him during the mornings even though in theory, it could be easy, granted that you both lived across each other. But strangely enough, you'd never caught him retiring to his flat to go to the bus station. You assumed he started earlier than you or way later.

You never asked, it never came up either.

Still, there was some sort of tranquility in the thought that you could spend some time with someone after your shift and just talk about whatever–and whatever meant a lot of things. Random at best. You once told him about the first raccoon you met in your life, and he told you all about the lioness he got to watch when he went to a South Saharan trip a few years ago.

Sometimes, the conversation went around what happened in the office that day. Jungkook noticed the little blot of ink on the cuff of your baby blue long sleeves, and you told him about the jammed printer in the accounting department. He'd told you later on about how he almost fucked up a report, said he was nervous because he was taking on a new role in the office.

Those moments were shared in long walks from Midday Miso to your apartment building, because naturally, you both established a small tradition of walking home together after a night of eating your hearts out at ahjumma's restaurant.

It was a rather sweet gesture, if you were honest to yourself. But you chose not to linger too much on the romantic thoughts that floated in your head, especially when you'd notice the way he made sure to walk on the outer side of the sidewalk, and when your fingers got too close the tips almost touched.

Because Jungkook, for how objectively good looking he was, was more than just his pretty face and physique.

He was kind and funny and genuine unlike any other straight men you've met in your life. Maybe the bar was low, but for all the times you've gotten to talk to him, he never showed any signs of ego most men would by the second hour of your meeting.

In the dating scene as an adult, a lot of men would come up to a date talking about how high they were placed at their company's hierarchy and how much they made in a month, and when they hear about yours, they'd always have a backhanded comment about how "you could only go up from there, right?" and those moments were always a bummer. Yawn-inducing, to be more accurate. Men and their predictability was boring and it was the reason why you'd declare to Jimin almost every time you got home from a date that you were retired from looking for them because most men just plainly fucking sucked.

But with Jungkook... was it different.

You found he didn't talk a lot, and one time you asked him if you were doing it–the talking–way too much, but he just chuckled and told you that he didn't mind.

Later on, you learned that he was just more of a listener rather than a talker, and that was not only a pure assumption of yours because he did listen attentively, alright. As for all the random things you've told him about, you never expected him to recall a single thing, not until one time when you passed by a food truck.

"Hey, didn't you say you like sundae?" Jungkook asked, and when you followed where his eyes were, it was at the food truck parked just a few steps ahead from where you both were.

"I do... wow. It's been so long since I saw a food truck around here." You said, following his steps towards the vehicle.

They had tables to dine in, and even if you were still full from eating at Midday Miso that night, the sundae was just too gratifying to decline. Jungkook was the same with the tteokbokki on his small plate, telling you he missed eating at one of these things, as they didn't exactly have anything like this abroad.

After he paid for the food (and of course not without a long, silly, light-hearted argument about it), he came back with two sticks of Melona ice pops which you looked at with widened eyes, animated expression written all over your face especially when he thrusted the purple yam flavor to you.

"Oh my god, how do they have these?"

"I was surprised as well... this is the first time in a while I'm eating this again." Jungkook said and then gestured to the ice pop in your hand, "You like the purple yam, right?"

"Yeah!"

You were about to ask him how he knew, but then you briefly remembered that one time you had a passionate rant about people hating on purple yam ice cream and why they weren't right.

And as you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to remember it all too well.

Jungkook showed genuine interest in the things you'd tell him about. He'd visit the cafes and restaurants you recommended to him as much as he could, and because you've come to exchange numbers with him eventually after almost two weeks of casually hanging out, they sometimes came during lunch break.

1 message received from Jungkook (Unit 446)

That day, you only exchanged contacts the other night, so seeing him on your phone so quickly like that caught you by surprise. It was welcomed though.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: I went to Cafe Heaven for lunch and loved their ice americano

As soon as you read the first message, another one came.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: This is Jungkook by the way :)

You laughed at his introduction. As if he didn't see you type his name on your phone last night–like he didn't jokingly complain about you putting the (Unit 446) in there but giving in eventually and also adding (Unit 336) to yours in his own contacts.

You [12:38pm]: Hi Jungkook! You [12:38pm]: im glad u went!!! u should also try their fettuccine alfredo

Seconds later, he sent a picture of the dish you just mentioned which put a smile on your face.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:39pm]: i'll get my refund from you if this doesnt taste good

You [12:40pm]: 1 week of friendship and ur already ripping me off 🤐

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: 😁 Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: first bite Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:41pm]: second bite

What was he on, you didn't know. But you were glad that he was slowly coming around, his jokes getting more... how would you say it... less polite? He just stopped apologizing after he said them! He usually would in the first few days, but now in your newfound closeness, it was like you were out of that stage where you tiptoed around each other still, feeling the other one out, trying to figure them out, all that stuff.

Nowadays, it was just more natural. Smooth-sailing. Paradoxical, almost, because of how the relationship felt more defined as well as loose.

You found you liked it that way.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:42pm]: I like it 👍🏻

And to your surprise, he sent you a picture of him, indeed, holding a thumbs up.

You'd like to think you were an expert on going along with the tide because even though you would be classified as introvert by most, you did pretty well in forming relationships with people–granted, most of them were fleeting, at best, hence the lack of bigger circles in most of your life–but you were great with making friends, regardless.

And maybe it was how you ended up with this whole thing with Jungkook. Because you were friendly and open, although you wouldn't dare to take all credits because as you mentioned before, he was a great conversationalist.

He didn't talk much as you said, but he didn't ever make you feel like you were talking way too much because he made sure that you knew he was listening, and when he talked, it was always engaging; conversations with him transitioned to different subjects in perfect seugue you would never noticed how you jumped from Melona ice pops to the existential dread you fought every morning before going to work.

When it came to humor, Jungkook's was different from Jimin's, of course, and your dynamic with your best friend could never be replicated with somebody else but Jungkook was close to truly becoming your friend, and for that, it was getting easier to ignore his handsome face.

You may have had an embarrassing moment of panicking mentally at seeing such a man in the first meeting, but nowadays, you could hold a conversation with him without thinking how hot he was.

Dare you say, you were starting to think more platonically about him rather than romantically. As you said, you were an expert on going along with the tide.

Or maybe that was too soon a declaration, because there were moments, like now, when you were certain juvenile flirting insisted on happening between you, steering you clear from completely feeling wholly platonic about Jungkook.

"I certainly have a bigger hand than you."

As if you didn't know that, Jungkook brought his hand up to show you it. Confused but not totally minding the whole thing, you proceeded to extend your own hand towards his, pressing them both together. Predictably, his hand could have engulfed the entirety of your own.

Jungkook laughed at the sight, and you didn't know exactly who broke the physical contact first but you were glad it was over as soon as it started.

But you couldn't have forgotten the electric zap along your spine when your hand got so close like that to his. Couldn't have ignored the hot feeling in your cheeks when you were made aware of what you just did.

Wow.

Were you guys flirting? Was he flirting? It was flirting, right? Juvenile, at best, because this was what kids did in high school! And Jungkook's hand was so...

You never imagined what it felt like–never even crossed your mind until now. Expectations about how his hand felt never formed in your head because you sure as hell never thought about that kind of thing happening in the first place, but Jungkook's hand was the right balance of soft and hard. Calloused in a way most men's hands naturally were, and soft like enough comfort when held and touched.

It wasn't clammy, thank god, but you also wouldn't have thought he had clammy hands, solely because he just looked like he didn't. But god, was it big.

And my goodness, did it make you feel things.

You drank your water fast and cleared your throat, subtly, so that he didn't think too much of it.

"O-okay, but that's just genetics. Doesn't mean you could throw stronger punches."

You said in retaliation to one of your useless debates which now covered the coin-operated boxing arcade machine across the bus station nearby.

Jungkook leaned back against the monobloc chair that was definitely way too flimsy for him.

You were currently hanging out at the dining area of the food truck you came across a few days ago, forgoing Midday Miso for the night. Lately, Jungkook and you have been exploring a few more places other than there. You've tried other restaurants nearby, but ultimately, Midday Miso was still the top favorite and the food truck was becoming a staple in lieu of its convenience and just the overall vibe of eating outside and feeling the breeze of summer night air.

"You got me curious about the boxing machine." Jungkook said, crossing his arms.

"I held the highest score there for like a week, you know? Only did it though to impress the kids who liked to watch."

At that, Jungkook's face lit up in interest.

"We should do that sometime."

"Oh... I see, I see. You wanna impress the kids, too?" You playfully accused, squinting your eyes at him.

He chuckled and waved you off.

"It can be a challenge." Jungkook shrugged and looked at you with a hint of mirth in his eyes.

You let out a puff of breath, amused at his obvious antics.

"What's the catch?"

"Well... free boba delivered to your door for a week if you get the higher score. How's that sound?" He looked at you expectantly.

You chuckled before saying, "I'm gonna rip you off so bad, Jungkook."

"Only if you win, though." He said with a mischievous smirk.

"Oh, wow. When, you mean. When I win. So what's in it for you?" You leaned your elbow on the table and studied his face.

He looked at you for a while, then, the smirk from earlier was wiped off and exchanged with a much gentler smile.

"Home-cooked dinner at my place next week Friday."

Your eyebrows met.

"You want me to cook you something? Jungkook, do you have a death wish? I may either give you unintentional food poisoning or burn your house down, there's no in between."

"No," Jungkook laughed at your insane conclusion. "Sorry, I should've specified. I mean if you lose, I'll be cooking us a meal at my place."

"Oh."

You were left staring at him, a bit dumbfounded.

He just said he wanted to cook you guys a meal. At his place.

He was inviting you to his place. His personal space.

"It won't be better than Midday Miso but I think I can keep up." Jungkook added with a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head in that seemingly boyish manner.

"Sure..." you responded, a bit delayed, much to your effort of not showing your big surprise at his offer. Before he noticed the way you were not believing what you heard, you chose to quip in a (hopefully) cheeky, "That is if you win, though."

Jungkook only hummed and then nodded.

"If I win."

He said, smiling at you.

This was dangerous.

The whole thing was teetering to something that was not very platonic, and just as you were starting to think this whole thing was!

Jimin always told you that you were bad at flirting, but in your defense, how were you supposed to know, exactly, if someone was flirting with you? A lot of people were friendly like that! Jungkook was maybe like that? Had you shown interest and he noticed so now he was playing into it? But that would be uncharacteristic of him. You didn't think he'd be the type to do something cruel like that...

But the tide was always rising and falling, they said, and the good thing was; you knew how to go along with the current.

So you did what you do best.

"Would you like to donate to the poor?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's a chance this card's gonna decline because I am the poor."

The cashier looked you in the eye with an even more impassive look than the one she had before you got your turn on the counter.

"Could've just said no." She said, punching your order away and you had to shamefully swipe your card and leave to go over where Jimin was.

"The cashier just snubbed me for being poor." You complained to Jimin, moving your coat to the next seat and settling in in yours.

Jimin took a sip from his latte and looked at you dead in the eye and said, "I'll call the manager if you want."

"Fuck off." You retaliated immediately. Jimin snorted at your way too predictable response.

See, this has happened way too many times more than what your fingers could count. You could not even pinpoint the exact time when Jimin started to joke about going full-on Karen-mode when you complained about a single little thing at the places you went to.

Anyway, you were currently on a lunch break when Jimin texted to see if you were free. What better way to spend your lunch than with your best friend? The company's canteen food was getting tired and they hiked up their prices. Your office's kitchen also ran out of Solhee's – your coworker – biscuits and so you thought you had to make do of Jimin's money for that day. You told him your motives yourself and as a petty retort, he told you to pay for your own pasta — at a café that was way too expensive for its own good.

You stole a bite off his churros, and predictably, he rolled his eyes at you.

"Why'd you want to see me, by the way? What's up? You don't have training?" you glanced at your wristwatch, reading 12:40pm.

Soon, you were casually taking over his plate of churros. For how ridiculously priced it was, it sure tasted good as hell.

"I got the day off." Jimin shrugged.

You eyed him suspiciously almost immediately.

"Did you really...?"

It was a few seconds before Jimin gave in and took back his plate.

"Okay, no, I ditched the training today but for the record it's for a very important reason."

You put your hand over your chest and contorted your face in an awed, touched expression.

"The important reason being... meeting me?"

"Ew, no," Was Jimin's quick, disgusted, response – which earned a laugh from you as usual.

From your peripheral vision, you saw the waiter heading towards your direction and so you waited for him to come over and serve you your pasta and frappe. After thanking him, you huddled closer to your best friend and asked, "Okay, what is it then?"

Jimi pursed his lips, making your eyebrows meet.

"It's kinda... bummer news."

"You're pregnant?"

"No, you'd be way too happy and I can't be a single dad," He shook his head as if not even wanting to imagine that.

"Namjoon looks like he's gonna take care of it with you." You sing-sang, sipping on your coffee and winking at him indiscreetly – emphasis on indiscreetly because you never knew how to wink properly.

What you did not expect, was the look on Jimin's face when you mentioned Namjoon.

"Well..." He trailed off, and you waited for it curiously; anticipating his impending answer in return because your conversation was always quick-witted like that. But right now, Jimin's expression was devoid of any jokes.

Not something you expected when you just mentioned his boyfriend.

"I— did something happen?" You quickly dropped the teasing tone and exchanged it with a concerned one, eyes looking at him with worry.

Jimin closed his eyes for a while and let out a deep breath. "See, that's the bummer news."

"Do you want to tell me? Or we can just—"

He cut you off before you could even finish your sentence. But he did it with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes – and this was Jimin. His eyes did not not reach his eyes when he smiled!

"He's going to Italy."

"Oh."

When the pause prolonged for over a minute, with you looking at him mouth agape, Jimin let out a heavy sigh once again and shook his head.

"I know. It's work... and I always understood that. He travels a lot and we're both okay with it. But it was usually just around the country, not another continent. I mean, what did he mean Italy? And that's not even the worst part. He knew a month ago he was going but he only told me two days ago and he's leaving Thursday," Jimin looked at you to take a pause, seemingly trying to look for a reaction.

You thought, that's tomorrow.

As if he read your mind, he nodded, sounding almost defeated.

"I know."

"Oh, Jimin..." You said, not exactly knowing what to say.

Jimin and Namjoon had been together for over a year. At least, officially, because they spent the last three years just casually hooking up on and off. You liked them together and had been more than glad when they finally put a label to it – exactly why you knew Namjoon enough to not badmouth him when you usually would men Jimin usually dated. You knew perfectly well that Namjoon genuinely cared about your best friend and he loved him. So if Jimin was at a loss for this obvious mistake on his boyfriend's part, even more so you were.

"He's been blowing up my phone ever since." Jimin added, glancing at his phone on the table. "Intentionally didn't charge my phone today so I don't receive his calls and texts."

That prompted you to remember the message you received from Namjoon last night.

"Oh, that's why he texted me yesterday. He asked about you, and I told you through text but you didn't answer." Things were starting to make sense now, and as you observed Jimin's face, they were getting clearer. "You never talked since?"

Jimin pursed his lips. He took his coffee back to his mouth and sipped while looking away. "Nope."

"Jimin." You tilted your head.

He looked at you again, and you knew exactly that he was thinking the same thing as you: It was within his right to feel off about what Namjoon did, but regardless; Jimin was being a little petty, and he needed to communicate with his boyfriend instead of giving him the cold shoulder.

There was a pout that formed on Jimin's lips right after.

"I know. I just..."

"He could've told you sooner?" He nodded at your words. You mirrored that. "He should have. Italy is not Busan – it's not just a train ride away."

Jimin sighed, looking exasperated now. "I told him that exactly. I'm not even mad he's going to Italy, I just think I deserve to know right after he was told about it."

You nodded. "You should really talk. It sounds like he wants to apologize, anyway, given that he's now trying to talk to me to get through you."

"Sorry you got caught up in this. I'm gonna talk to him about it."

"Eh, it's fine. Joon and I are also friends, you know?" You shrugged, genuinely not minding Namjoon coming to you.

You liked Namjoon and thought that he was the perfect match for Jimin. They were cute together and just seemed to... take the best out of each other. You'd go to any lengths to keep them together, as long as Jimin wanted Namjoon and as his boyfriend. You've seen Jimin go from relationships to relationships, some just fleeting and simple dalliances, and most destructive and were just... not good for him. You've never seen your best friend truly happy and committed in a romantic relationship other than with Namjoon, and as someone who cared about him, you'd do a lot of things to make him happy.

"Here's another thing, his flight is tomorrow at 11:30pm in the evening. Mom's birthday dinner is at 10." Jimin usually had his composure everytime, and it was very rarely you'd see him show any worry because he liked everybody to think he was in control of every situation. You smiled. Classic Jimin. He'd only ever show his true nature to you though, and that was exactly why he looked at you with worried eyes and continued to say, "I really wanna be there to send him off."

The call time for his mother's party was at 10 and naturally people would start swarming in way past that time. If Jimin were to sneak out way too early, you knew his mother was not going to be happy about it and his father would give him an even bigger shit for it. Sure, he could cancel, but what would he say? That their supposed cishet son is sending off his boyfriend at the airport for the night? He couldn't reason work either because he didn't exactly have one.

After having his wrongful DUI accusation last spring– which was actually already settled, on the grounds that it was definitely not DUI and the owner of the other car just overreacted to a fender bender, the media was adamant on tactically using that to taint his family's image and it unfortunately succeeded – hence, why Jimin had been laying low these past few months; going to training programs, obeying his parents more than usual, doing what they wanted...

You sighed. Your best friend deserved so much better.

"Don't worry, I'll find a way to get us to leave early." You told him after awhile.

Jimin arched his brow, intrigued.

Waving him off, you said, "I can fake something."

As if hearing some magic words, Jimin suddenly perked up.

"No way you're using the diarrhea card?"

Giving him a dirty look, you shook your head. "Nah, not during a dinner party. It's gotta be something new and less... gross."

"Oh, oh!" Jimin put a finger over his lip. "What about a sprained ankle? Can you pull that off?"

You deadpanned. "Okay, you ought to pay me more if you want me to do that."

"I can, but I won't. Stop ripping me off, I'm your best friend."

"Jimin, I'll save you from your family. I'm great at this." You said jokingly, but you hoped that he knew you weren't just jesting and were serious about it.

With the appreciation masking your best friend's face, though, you knew he got the message right away, but as you looked at him longer, you realize that he was about to say something and you quickly pulled back, shaking your head.

Jimin quickly reacted. "No! You know what, I'm gonna say it—"

"Don't say it." You quickly cut him off, giggling while you shake your cup of coffee.

"You can't keep me from saying I lo—"

"Jimin, I will tell everybody in this place you watch dubbed anime, I'm serious."

He gasped, quite dramatically.

"You did not just go there!" Then, he lowered his voice a bit, arching his brow at you, vindicative when he said, "You wore skinny jeans a month ago."

"How dare you, you wore a fuckass poncho last week. I saw on your IG story."

"That was from Namjoon and he also gave you one, FYI."

You grimaced. "Tell him I love him but I'm not wearing a poncho, Jimin."

"I was gonna tell you I love you and that you're the best person ever but now I have to rethink all of that." He rolled his eyes, and when the banter ended with you having the last words, you laughed at his face.

"God, you're just never beating me at this."

"Please, we both know you write your mediocre insults on your diary every night trying to one-up me, __. But let's talk about something else."

"I'm not even gonna acknowledge the diary thing but, sure, shoot." You said, starting to eat your pasta.

Jimin looked at your food full of judgement and grimaced. "Is that shrimp? Your doctor is growing grey pubes as we speak," He commented, and you knew he was referring to your shrimp allergy so you shushed him.

"This is vegan shrimp. It's tofu."

He just shook his head, disagreement written on his face. But he let it pass, anyway.

"Anyway, how's Mr. 446?"

The pasta suddenly entered the wrong track.

"Girl," Jimin was quick to offer you the glass of water on his side and you were just as fast to drink it. "You okay?"

"I'm sure there are existing cases of people dying because food got on the wrong track while they're eating, but yeah, sure, I'm okay." When you finished the water, you looked at Jimin who was just doing the same thing.

Crossing his arms, he eyed you expectantly. "Well?"

"I mean... what do you want me to say?" you told him, and you could've sworn you did not want to show anything on your face but you were certain there was a huge smile on it and for some reason, you couldn't help it.

Jimin's jaw dropped, expressions of disbelief and amusement when he asked you curiously, "What do you mean by that?"

"Okay, look, Jimin—" You scratched the back of your head, feeling a little sheepish to tell him all about Jungkook. "He told me we'd get dinner at his place this Friday if he wins this... thing."

His mouth was agape by then and you couldn't help but laugh.

"You... slut."

You would absolutely be rolling off the floor if you weren't at a public place the moment he mouthed the word, but still, you couldn't help but retort back.

"Shut up, you can't be the only one whoring around in this friendship." Jimin snorted at that and you both had to stifle your laughter when you noticed a woman from across the room eyeing you both.

This was one of the reasons why Jimin and you didn't belong in public places other than bars or clubs – because you were way too rowdy together for civilization.

"So you're saying you're whoring around?" He eyed you suspiciously.

"Wrong information. It's actually kind of platonic."

Jimin quickly waved you off. "Babe, if a guy invites you to his place, nothing is ever platonic about it. What do you think you'll do together there? Stare at each other for two hours straight?"

God, you hated and loved that he enables your delusions.

"Okay, you're being insane about this. It's just dinner," Trying to fight off the not-so-very-platonic things that suddenly played in your head after hearing his previous remark. To show that you didn't care, you added for good measure, "—And anyway, we had some sort of deal about it so it's not definite."

Your best friend just shrugged. "I'm all for it. But you're sure he isn't a serial killer, right?"

"Jimin, god, no," you chuckled at that. "I mean, I don't really know for sure, but we're friends now and as far as I know, he's never shown signs of psychopathy."

Jimin and you hadn't hung out in a while, so you haven't really told him all about Jungkook yet and the things you got to know about him. He didn't even know his name. As far as he was concerned, Jungkook was still Mr. 446, and you were fine keeping it that way. He had a lot on his plate right now, anyway.

"Just being cautious." He sing-sang, putting both his hands in the air.

You shook your head.

"Anyway, we also need to talk about what we're gonna wear tomorrow," Jimin suddenly said. "You got the Pinterest board I sent you, right? For the inspo."

Grinning, you grabbed your iPad from your bag and got to the link immediately. Your phone died on the way to the café. Good thing you had another device and brought it with you.

"I also added a few things in here. Gold and black's the theme, right?" You clarified, scrolling through the board you and Jimin both contributed to. Your best friend took it upon himself to transfer seats so he could be beside you and look at your screen at the same time.

"You're gonna look so good in Schiaparelli, babe," Jimin said while checking out the pictures you added.

"It's just an inspo, I don't actually need to wear a Schiaparelli." You chuckled.

"Who do you think your best friend is?"

You both laughed at that but it stopped when a notification popped up on your computer. Recognizing the address as your work email, you were quick to hover over it. When you were about to open it to see the full message, your iPad suddenly died.

"Shoot." You looked at Jimin with a straight face. "I forgot to plug it in. Didn't notice the battery."

Jimin grimaced. "Didn't bring any power cable."

"We'll have to do with a phone. Mine died."

You were just about to ask him for his but then you remembered what he said about avoiding Namjoon, hence, his phone was of no use either.

"We're gonna have to freestyle."

Last year, Mrs. Park's party was held at a theater hall – your first time at one, by the way.

Tonight, it was at their mansion.

You've only ever been to the Park's a total of one time, which was now. Stepping a foot inside here for the first time in your life, the house felt unreal. It was the epitome of money and wealth and everything regal in the world – like a palace of some sort. They had butlers and guards at the gates so maybe that wasn't an exaggeration, but damn, Jimin truly came from money.

Regardless of how shiny the whole building was in both literal and figurative senses though, there was an emptiness to it. It didn't look lived in – which was a fair assumption for a house this big. It definitely did not look like people liked staying here, and maybe that was not a stretch, because as soon as he turned 18, Jimin moved away and lived in his own place ever since. You asked him on your way here and he told you it was his first time this year to visit his own house.

The decoration was sick, though. Granted, they must have surely hired people to do it but at least they'd hired excellent ones. You wouldn't have expected anything less from Jimin's mom.

Jimin and you arrived at 10pm sharp, and thankfully, people were already starting to fill the place up. It was now past 15 minutes to 10pm since you arrived and there really was nothing different that went on from last year; you saw some familiar faces, politicians, and celebrities. Jimin introduced you to some people as his girlfriend, and you got to have quick chats with his model friends.

You knew it didn't actually matter if you thought about it carefully, but there was truly nothing compared to the feeling you get when you see someone in the flesh that you only see on TV all your life. You didn't feel lucky to see them in person, per se, you were just poured over the realization that these people were actually real and they weren't just some sort of simulation to keep the entertainment industry of your country afloat.

Although, you did meet Han Sol – an actress whose works you genuinely admired. Jimin just told you her husband was his second cousin.

It wasn't later that Jimin and you were invited to his family's table, where some of his cousins and immediate family were.

The greetings went pretty normal. Normal as in: Jimin's mom didn't say anything about your weight first thing first. Granted, she didn't try to hide the look of disappointment on her face when she saw you with his son. Probably reeling at the fact that you were still "dating" each other even after a year — she was probably under the impression that it wasn't serious between you two last year. His father, meanwhile, was... quiet. As usual. A man who obviously didn't really say much except ask Jimin about the training program and his siblings' jobs.

Mr. Park didn't really talk to you, just like last year. Like you were almost invisible to him – and you were glad that was the case. He probably didn't like to acknowledge your supposed relationship in the first place. Probably knew that you were working a middle-class job and didn't want to know any further. But at least, he wasn't saying anything. That was nice.

"Where's your cousin?" Asked Jimin's mom suddenly, looking at his son.

"He said he got caught up in traffic. Sent 20 minutes ago." Jimin shrugged. You would ask him about which cousin they were referring to but they had like millions of it at these events so you didn't bother.

Mrs. Park shook her head disapprovingly. "That kid. Always late to the family dinners. Did Junghyun ever teach—"

"Hey,"

Your attention was then focused to the man who just arrived. Black tie, tall... dashing. Jimin was a good-looking individual and his family, as evil as they may be as per his words, were blessed with good genes. If you were to look at the new man that arrived to the table very carefully, you'd say he almost looked familiar.

"Oh, Junghyun!"

Jimin glanced at you and discreetly mouthed, "Cousin."

"Aunt, happy birthday." He said after laughing at Jimin's mother coos. He looked across the table and continued, "Hi, uncle. Jaeyul, Sunghoon, Jimin." They all greeted him back and you could feel the hairs on your nape starting to stand up when his eyes landed on you once again. "And this is...?"

"Oh, that's Jimin's girlfriend, __." Jaeyul, Jimin's brother said.

"Hi." you greeted him, waving a bit.

"Oh?" Junghyun immediately looked at Jimin, eyes not hiding his shock. When you trained your eyes on Jimin, you felt his fake smile. "That's great, man. I didn't know you had a girlfriend. Hi, miss...?"

"It's __." you filled in.

"Nice to meet you, __." He said with a smile. The more you looked at him, the more you could almost pinpoint who he looked like – but that shouldn't really matter.

Junghyun looked over Jimin's parents once again, "Anyway, sorry I'm a bit late, got caught up in traffic."

Jimin cleared his throat.

"How about you, Junghyun? Got a girlfriend yet?" He asked as soon as Junghyun sat on the opposite side of the long table.

You could see Jimin's mother's curiosity peaking at that.

"Tell us, dear. Last time you were dating Kang Iseul, right? The actress. You're still with her?"

Everybody at the table nodded while you almost choked on the smoked quail you were eating. He was dating Kang Iseul? She was a popular actress who announced a hiatus three years ago. That actress Kang Iseul?

Junghyun chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, aunt, that was my brother, and uh, no, I'm not dating anybody currently."

"Oh well. I just wish your brother stops dating that woman. I never really liked that girl. She acts way too self-righteous! I mean, who cut ties with their billionaire father and live independently just so they can say they're self-made? It's ridiculous." Jimin's mother said in that usual snotty tone of hers, and you could not possibly process all of what was going on.

If it wasn't clear to you a moment ago, it was crystal now. Unfortunately, you were a bit chronically online and were there in real time when one random tweet blew up about Kang Iseul being a nepotism baby. But was this guy's brother really dating her? The most important and concerning thing, though, was that: why was Jimin's mom always so annoying about who her family members date? And this was not even her immediate family, mind you.

"Jina," Jimin's father had a warning tone when he called her but Jimin's mom just shrugged him off with a "tsk!"

"Kids are so ungrateful nowadays, don't you think? Anyway, Junghyun dear, you remember the Kang gala I told you about two months ago?" Jimin's mom looked pointedly at Jimin and you bit your lip.

Of course, here comes her passive aggressive disapproval of you.

"Kang Heesu and her sister Kang Hani will be there. Heesu is a wonderful woman," she chuckled, looking over at Jimin's direction subtly. You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. Couldn't she be more obvious about acting as a wingman for Jimin and Heesu? But she continued, just like she always did. "I also heard Kang Hani is going for senior partner at Yoon and Yang, you may be interested. Pretty lady."

Junghyun just awkwardly laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jimiin's father suddenly spoke, making everyone look at him.

"Where is that kid?" He said, authority dripping through his voice. Jimin was obviously not close to his father, and who would be? Mr. Park was way too intimidating. You found it funny to think if he ever did anything remotely paternal towards his children.

"We were supposed to go together but he said he had something to finish. He'll be arriving later." Junghyun said, obviously not oblivious to the "kid" Mr. Park was referring to. You were way too uncaring to actually try to figure that out.

"I see." Jimin's father nodded. "How's Jeon and Min, Junghyun? I heard you were just appointed managing partner last week."

Junghyun responded with a "yes" and they started to talk about the law firm – you assumed – and other people they mutually knew related to the business.

You knew Jimin's complicated family tree was composed of all sorts of professionals, but damn, they had lawyers in here too. It was like out of a career day event at grade schools.

"Is it true Gukka's going to be CEO?" Jimin's mother said, joining the conversation.

You were glad they were doing all the talking. Last year, they talked to you like they were interrogating you and that was not nice.

"Well, dad's not giving up the company so soon. Gukka's going for interim CTO first." Junghyun said with a polite smile.

Gukka. That must be the brother of Junghyun, although it sounded more like a nickname than a real name.

"Your brother's a hard worker. He's looking at a CEO position, some are still at training programs." Jimin's father remarked with a pointed tone.

Oh, fuck me, you thought to yourself. You thought it was gonna take awhile for the comparison to start, but it seemed they were determined to beat their record of one hour from last year.

You tried subtly looking at Jimin to see if he was okay or anything, but you felt him squeezing your wrist under the table. His face was devoid of any emotion as he continued with his own food.

Junghyun, meanwhile, was obviously taken aback by the response and also looked over at Jimin. He was quick to recover, though – probably knew that was a jab at his cousin just like every other person in the room. Atmosphere grew tense, and you had to squirm in your seat a little bit.

"Training programs help a lot, though." Junghyun awkwardly laughed. You were starting to feel bad for him as well.

"Well, you're lawyering. Trainings are important. Mine's kinda stupid." Jimin said which made everybody look at him, including you.

"You're learning anything yet, son?" His father pointedly looked at him.

"We'll see."

Jimin's dismissive tone made you feel the eye roll he would've done after saying that.

Look, he rebelled for the most part of his life so him being passive-aggressive towards his family was not a new thing, but to witness it was both nerve-wracking and honestly... funny. His parents were such assholes so they probably deserved his attitude.

Mrs. Park smiled a fake one before looking at you.

"Well, what about you __ dear? You're a... what was that again? How is that going for you?"

Because you wanted to piss them off, you mirrored her fake smile and said, "I got fired six months ago at my accounting job."

"Pft—" you pinched Jimin's arm at his reaction.

Of course he'd laugh at that. You asked him how you could piss his parents off tonight just to get back at them from last year and he told you to pretend to be unemployed or you work a minimum wage job because that was their biggest ick. Jimin didn't know you were going to come through.

"Oh."

The look on Jimin's mom's face looked as if she heard the most scandalous thing ever, and if his father's frown was deep even before the dinner started, his face was now below the ground. It felt satisfying to get those looks on their faces. Good! They were such assholes. Imagine getting devastated at someone being unemployed? Okay – for the record, being unemployed was devastating but these people weren't sympathizing with that, they found it humiliating in an elitist way– criminal almost.

You nodded, your lips almost getting tired from stretching them too far.

"Yeah. Anyway, I started working at a local burger joint. You should visit us sometime."

"I'm vegan." Jimin's mom said, her face now drained with the fake joy she's worn all night.

"We have vegan options." you quipped. Jimin once again made a sound beside you, hiding his laughter.

"Wait, really? They offer vegan options at a street burger joint?" Sunghoon, the youngest of the Park brothers, asked.

You almost laughed at the genuine curiosity in his voice. He was still in high school and from what Jimin told you, he was a nice kid. He wasn't very close to any of his brothers, though.

"Nah, it's the only one in town." You bullshit one more time, drinking the wine beside you. "Sorry, can I excuse myself for a minute?"

They nodded and you stood up, heading to the bathroom, brisking once you got out of their sight to get there more quickly.

It was now 10:30 pm – meaning, you had to do something to get Jimin out of here now if he wanted to be on time at the airport to send off Namjoon.

Once you got inside, you looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed.

This whole thing was sucking the shit out of your soul, but you needed to get through it.

It took you awhile to finish your pep talk in the bathroom.

If only you could've have locked yourself in there to avoid socializing with anybody, you willingly would. But you were running out of time and unfortunately, you had something to do and that was to fake some illness to get both Jimin and you out of here.

When you got out to approach the family's table one more time, you suddenly stopped in your tracks.

The table was at least fifteen meters away from where you stood, but you could clearly see the side in which Jimin's cousin, Junghyun, sat, facing your direction. He wasn't the issue – no, far from it. It was the guy beside him who wore the same set of black tie as him; the face attached to the body who wore it though, was someone you did not expect to see.

Why the fuck was Jungkook, Unit 446, here?!

From where you were, you could see him engaging with Junghyun and Jimin's parents. You couldn't hear them, of course, but it was clear that they were acquainted – close – even from afar.

Why did he look so comfortable with the Parks? Why was he at the family table laughing and conversing with everybody, including Jimin? Why did he seem like he went to many of these, like this was just another Thursday for him?

There was a waiter who walked past you and you were grateful for it because had it not been the case, people would start to get weirded out about you standing on the same place longer than necessary, looking stoned. That was also an opportunity to run away from the situation without Jungkook possibly seeing and recognizing you.

"I'll take this," You told the waiter and grabbed the glass of champagne and quickly turned on your heels, heading to the opposite side of the family table where the Parks, and apparently, Jungkook were.

You found yourself heading to the bathroom again, your feet seemingly developing a mind of its own as it led you there unconsciously. You knew you'd be in trouble if they found out about you putting the champagne glass in the sink, but you needed to get inside the toilet and think over everything that was happening tonight.

What the fuck. What the fuck! Again, why the hell was Jungkook here?

As far as you knew, he was just a regular man that happened to be living across from you. He was just supposed to be some guy you were regularly hanging out with nowadays. Your friend. Your crush – whatever! What he wasn't supposed to be is be here at your best friend's mother's birthday party and hanging out with his family!

Your phone dinged, a message notification from Jimin welcoming you.

cuntress #1 [10:32pm]: girl what happened I saw u going back to the bathroom?

You didn't know why it was suddenly too hot, but you felt the balls of sweat starting to form on the side of your forehead.

You [10:33pm]: im going with the diarrhea excuse

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: tbh idc atp I just wanna go to joon 😔

"Shit!"

Right! Joon. Namjoon. Jimin needed to go to Nmajoon as soon as possible.

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: also another cousin has arrived u rmr jeon jungkook he's junghyun's brother cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: love this guy but moms starting to compare me to him and I need out right NEOW im justt aking hits after hits jesusssssss

You could just feel the blood draining from your face as soon as you read Jungkook's name in the text.

Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook. Gukka. Kook-a.

That was why the Junghyun guy looked familiar. Because he had the same coloring of Jeon Jungkook. Because they were goddamn siblings.

You started to replay some memories in your head, trying to figure out if you've ever heard Jungkook talk about his family in one of your conversations. But as far as you remembered, he never did. All you knew about him was that he was from the States, and he only got here because of work and he had a dog and as far as you were concerned, his cousin was definitely not Park fucking Jimin, your best friend.

Pacing around the confined space of the toilet, you tried to wrack your brain if you've ever mentioned Jimin to him and in the event that you did, why he never told you that he was his cousin – but you came up blank. Blank because you never told him about your best friend's name... and in turn, Jimin didn't know what Mr. 446's name was, either. They were both genuinely oblivious about the whole thing and couldn't have made you a fool in the situation.

In short, you were the one who was stupid as hell for not connecting the dots sooner.

"Hey, you just landed?"

"Nah, you want me to pick you up?" Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. "Sure, I'm free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?" He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. "Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?"

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, "Well, my cousin's apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on."

"Fuck me." You hissed, remembering that time when Jimin told you about his cousin staying here for three months because of work.

cuntress #1 [10:35pm]: its either ur taking a guinness world record breaker piss there or u really do have diarrhea now and ur shitting cuntress #1 [10:36pm]: anyway get this, jungkook's gonna be interim cto at your company did u know that??????????????????

You almost dropped your phone upon reading the last message.

What the hell did he mean by that?

Heart beating fast as if it wanted to break out of your own ribcage, you closed your eyes and read Jimin's message once again. There was no way he would be shitting you about any of this. He knew where you worked at and you knew your current company was his uncle's, and now that you knew Jungkook was his cousin...

Shit. Was this what they were talking about at the table earlier? About Junghyun saying his brother was gonna be interim CTO? Did he mean Jeon Jungkook all along? Your freaking neighbor?

Suddenly, you remembered the email you received that afternoon that you never bothered to check again because you simply forgot about it. Who even actually checks their work email? Literally no one. You spend your weeks facing your computer while email flew in like porn ads on a shady website, you weren't about to willingly go to the app and check it on your leisure time.

But maybe you should have.

Fingers involuntarily shaking in their wake as you switched to your work email on your phone, you clicked on the recent unread message that was on top from the HR department.

Subject: Invitation to Ceremony: Announcement of Interim CTO Dear Blue Nexus Inc. employee, We hope this email finds you well. We would like to inform you that a ceremony has been scheduled on July 29, 2028, 10:00 am at the AVR Hall 5, 12th floor. The purpose of this meeting is to announce the appointment of our interim Chief Technology Officer (CTO), Mr. Jeon Jungkook. As you may be aware, our previous CTO, Mr. Shin Juman, is currently on medical leave recovering from a stroke. While he is recuperating and undergoing treatment, it has become necessary for us to appoint an interim CTO for an indefinite period of time to ensure the continuity and effectiveness of our operations. Your presence at this ceremony is highly valued as we introduce the new leadership to the team and outline our strategic direction moving forward. Light refreshments will be served. Thank you for your attention to this matter. We look forward to seeing you at the ceremony. Best regards, HR Department

You knew that feeling when you were just taking hits and hits? This was it.

So not only was Jeon Jungkook Jimin's cousin, he was also gonna be the interim CTO of the company you were currently working at. He was technically going to be your boss, and you would be both working in the same place all the while living across each other where he would see you taking out your trash every Sunday morning in your worn-out highschool PE shirt and pants. He was going to be your boss working at the company you complained to him about on the nights you walked together to your shared apartment complex.

You flirted with Jungkook. You flirted with the guy who was the son of the owner of your whole company building – and not only that, he was your best friend's cousin, to add salt to injury.

You [10:38pm]: jimin we need to get out of here

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ive been saying

You [10:38pm]: but i cant go out there again. Just tell them i had a problem in the bathroom??

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ok on it cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: im kind of convinced u shitted in there tho????????

You rolled your eyes, but at the same time found an opportunity in that. Jimin can't know the truth.

You [10:39pm]: u cant judge me for having a very human experience fuck u the cake i ate earlier was giving cake boss

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: KJAHFKGSIDFHDSHASFHSKJBF

You [10:39pm]: im literally doing this for u and joon

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: IKNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!thanks to ur stomach problems cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: im going there

You [10:40pm]: make sure they don't see us again to really sell the whole im-embarassed-thing

cuntress #1 [10:40pm]: ON IT! Were going out the back door I don't think they'll notice

You couldn't even find it in you to laugh a little bit at your silly exchange and scheme, because you were way too stressed about what you just found out.

You let out a controlled, heavy breath, leaning your back on the door and shut your eyes aggressively.

"What the hell am I gonna do after this?"

PART TWO | ....

#fic: nb #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook x you #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook

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lovemomhatepolice · 2 days ago

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what brought back that smile? - lando norris

navigation taglist requests

pairing: lando norris x fem! reader

warnings: kinda established relationship, fresh relationship, curious muppets!, English is my second language!

type: fluff, pure fluff

word count: 3,5k

summary: 5 times when someone asked the reason for Lando's sudden surge of happiness, but he preferred to keep his sweet secrets to himself

more content: f1 masterlist, lando norris masterlist, birthday one-shot

Since Lando Norris broke up with his then-girlfriend Luishina in 2022, no one has seen him this happy since. Of course, there have been moments where Lando walked around smiling - for example, when he won his first race in Miami or partying with friends in Ibiza. On more than one occasion, fans saw him joking and laughing until his stomach hurt with other drivers, but further down the line, everyone knew that the old Lando was gone. The one who laughed through love. The one foolishly in love, who proved it at every turn. Since his former relationship, Lando hasn't bonded with anyone - there were only rumors of fleeting romances or PR relationships. Until recently. In fact, no one knows when it took place. And since when Lando felt like a foolishly infatuated boy again.

THE FIRST TIME: Oscar Piastri When Oscar noticed changes in Lando's behavior, it was not much before the Japanese race. Or at least it wasn't so visible before. Norris was walking around smiling from ear to ear, constantly forgetting what he should do or who he should talk to about the changes in the car. No one paid much attention to it, and Oscar initially tried to ignore it as well, and winning in Miami a month later further eclipsed the spy's thoughts. After all, Lando had won his first race after so long in Formula One and so many times standing on the podium. The Mclaren drivers weren't the best of friends on the grid, but Oscar knew it wasn't because of winning the race. Or at least not just because of that.

Oscar was curious, even if he said very little about his life, the Lando case drilled him from the bottom up. And it started off small.

One morning 2 weeks after the Miami race, Lando showed up for a meeting with a goofy smile on his face. His attention was focused on everything during the strategy discussion, his mind was clearly elsewhere.

“Are you okay?” asked Oscar, poking his teammate under the table. As if awakened from his trance, Lando stopped tapping his fingers against his thigh and turned his head toward the Australian, smiling that silly grin again. “Yeah, all good, mate. “ he asked, tilting his head to the side. Oh, how foolishly charmed he was. “Why do you ask?”

Oscar shrugged. “I dunno. You just seem... happier these days. What brought back that smile?”

The question hung in the air for a long moment. Lando hung his head and laughed quietly under his breath, as if he was thinking whether he wanted to say it or rather not. And that was the option he chose, keeping his new infatuation to himself.

“Well, you know, buddy, I won a race recently. A chance to celebrate, huh?”

Oscar laughed, but couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else behind that smile, and that Lando was lying right in his eyes. Something - or someone - had brought back that trademark Lando smile. But Oscar decided to let it go for now.

Meanwhile, Lando was smiling to himself. Was it really that noticeable? Could everyone now know his sweet secret?

Such questions were cluttering his mind, but he tried not to worry about them. They were quickly superseded by thoughts of [Y.N]. It was wild how fast she had slipped into his life. What had started as a chance meeting turned into hours of effortless conversation, late-night phone calls, and a connection that had somehow brought him back to life. He hadn't felt this way since…. well, he couldn't remember the last time. And that was the point of it all.

MUPPETS: Carlos Sainz Jr Carlos had known Lando since 2019, so this year was their 5th anniversary of knowing each other. From the very beginning, the men, despite the age difference, got along great. And they soon became friends, too, supporting each other in worse and better moments. You could say they knew each other like the back of their hand, so while Lando was drifting away more and more each possible time during their conversations, the Spaniard had no more questions or thoughts. He was well aware that his younger friend's head was occupied by not something, but someone.

The sun beat down on the lush green of the golf course, the Spanish heat was unrelenting even in the early hours of the day. Carlos set up for his shot, squinting against the blinding glare, while Lando stood to the side, waiting his turn. It was a rare moment of calm before the chaos of the Spanish Grand Prix weekend, and Carlos was glad to be spending it with his best friend.

Until he saw Lando miss every time, which hadn't happened all that often before. Well, okay, Lando was worse than Carlos at golf, but to that extent?

And those constant glances at the phone, which he was so reluctant to leave in the golf cart.

“Ay, muppet. What the hell is wrong with you?” rang out Carlos' voice as he hit the ball.

Of course it flew cleanly where it was supposed to fly. But what's the pleasure of playing as your friend drills a hole in the grass with his club, his other hand constantly checking his phone screen?

"Huh?" Lando snapped out of his trance. This had been happening to him more and more often lately, nay, it had been happening to him for more than three months now.

“You’ve been smiling like an idiot all day,” Carlos teased, though his tone was softer, more curious than mocking. “Actually, you’ve been like this for weeks like not months now. So, tell me—who is she?”

Lando’s cheeks flushed pink, and he quickly turned his attention to the golf ball at his feet, fiddling with his club. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, but there was a grin he couldn’t quite suppress. And in fact, I don't think he wanted to get rid of it.

Carlos laughed, poking Lando playfully on the shoulder. “Come on, cabrón. I know you too well and it's been a long time since you've been this happy. So who's the lucky girl? Who brought back that smile?”

Lando sighed under his breath - he knew he could trust Carlos, he was his best friend. He just liked the fact that he and [Y.N] were in a closed bubble of happiness that they had made for themselves in three months. Of course it was still fresh and nothing was certain yet, but Lando gave in. To whom as to whom, but to Carlos he already had to tell. It was drilling him from the inside.

“It's … nothing serious,” Lando finally said, shrugging his shoulders as if it was no big deal. “It's just… I'm meeting someone. I'm trying to keep it discreet.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Dude, I've known you long enough to know when you're serious about someone,” he said, and his voice became softer. “And if she makes you smile like that, I'd say it's more than a casual.”

Lando bit his lip, trying to hide the smile that threatened to break through. The truth was that [Y.N] had quickly become the best part of his days.

“Maybe,” he admitted, finally meeting Carlos' gaze. “But for now it's just … between us, sure?

Carlos clapped Lando on the back, a broad grin on his face. “I’m happy for you, hermano. And don’t worry—I won’t tell anyone. But I have to say, it’s good to see you like this again.”

They both laughed and Lando already knew he was lost. Together, with Carlos, were like the biggest gossips, so he quickly unlocked his phone, even jumping up and down with happiness, wanting to show Carlos some pictures of them together. What luck befell him when he found out that [Y.N] also loves to take pictures.

Carlos leaned closer, curious. Lando pulled out a photo from a few weeks ago - from his once-in-a-lifetime date with [Y.N]. They were sitting on a blanket in a meadow somewhere by the water, the golden sunset casting a warm glow over them. The girl's head was tilted toward him and resting on his shoulder, her eyes were crinkling with laughter, and Lando looked happier than Carlos had seen him in a long time. His hand was on the girl's shoulders, visibly embracing her closer to him.

“I want her to be the one, you know?” muttered Lando, smiling even wider when he saw the notification from her.

LUCKY CHARM: Lando's parents Lando was able to hide his fresh relationship from his friends, from his fans and from the rest of the world. But he definitely couldn't hide it from his parents and siblings. Not even a month of knowing [Y.N] had passed when he vividly talked about how much he had fallen in love and how he hoped she was the one and last woman in his life. His loved ones were damn happy to finally see the most sincere smile of his entire life on the face of this little Lando Norris.

The air around Silverstone was charged with electricity, and the energy of the home crowd gave Lando joy like no other race on the calendar. Walking through the bustling paddock, he felt lighter than he had in years. It wasn't just the thrill of racing on his own track - it was the realization that somewhere among the sea of faces there was [Y.N], watching him.

Fortunately, he managed to smuggle her into a private hospitality suite, away from prying cameras, journalists and fans. They had been seeing each other for almost four months, in truth they were not a couple, but everything was going for it. Lando wasn't the only one who was foolishly infatuated with the relationship; the girl, like him, walked around with her head in the clouds, as her university colleagues or friends seemed to notice more than once. But in her case it was easier to hide, after all, she didn't have a million eyes on her like Lando did.

When Lando entered his private area in the Mclaren garage, he immediately noticed his parents, sisters and brother, who were smiling at him from ear to ear. The entire Norris family had a close relationship with each other, so of course everyone knew about Lando's new sweetheart, whom he had been dating with for four months.

“And there's our smiling boy!” laughed Lando's mother, hugging her son tightly. The driver laughed under his breath, hugging his family one by one, fortunately in a place where the eyes of others did not reach and they could have a moment of peace. “I'm glad you're all here,” Lando said, stroking his younger sister Flo's hair.

“How could we not be here?” asked Oliver, Lando's brother, laughing under his breath.

The atmosphere was great, however, everyone knew this question would come sooner than perhaps it should?

“Well, you know what, tell us where she is,” said Lando's dad, poking him lightly on the shoulder. “You're laughing so hard, I won't believe she's not here.”

“Yes! Show us finally what brought back that smile,” said his mom, echoing her husband.

Lando felt his face heat up, but he couldn’t keep the grin from spreading. “You two don’t miss a thing, do you?” he said, shaking his head.

“We just want to meet her,” his mum said softly, eyes twinkling with warmth. “We’ve heard so much about her, and if she’s the reason our son’s been so happy lately, we’d love to say hello.”

After a moment's thought, Lando nodded. “All right. I'll bring her - but behave,” he said with nervous but excited energy.

Lando slipped stealthily out of the garage and headed for his room, which only he and a few Mclaren people had access to. Although it was a rather hidden place, [Y.N] did not complain. She could wait out the time until the race in peace, just as she could go out to Mclaren's garage and watch it there. Lando made her as comfortable as possible.

When the girl saw him, she raised her eyes and smiled warmly in his direction. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes, everything is fine,” he assured her, taking her hand in his. At the same time, he forced her to get up from the soft couch. “But… there is someone who wants to meet you. My family is even dying to meet the woman of my heart.”

The girl took a deep breath and smiled. “I'd love to meet them.”

Holding hands, they returned to the hospitality. When they went inside, Lando's mother sighed quietly and immediately crossed the room to hug [Y.N]. “Oh, how nice to finally meet you,” she said, and her voice was filled with sincere warmth.

“She's beautiful,” Cisca whispered, looking at Lando. The boy only whispered a quiet “I know” and laughed under his breath.

Immediately the whole family greeted the girl, hugging her tightly and bestowing kind words on her, including telling her how happy they were that she was making Lando so happy again. And everything was somehow better. His parents and siblings were talking to the girl he'd had in his heart for several months, and everything was going smoothly. Lando was just standing off to the side, keeping his hand on her back and giving her a little kiss to make her feel better. But he was probably the most stressed one there.

Lando checked his watch, feeling the familiar pre-start jitters begin to overwhelm him. But today he felt a little better than usual.

“I have to go now,” he said reluctantly, turning to face the girl. His parents moved away to give them a moment of privacy.

“You can do it, you're amazing on the track,” she purred, placing her hands on his shoulders and gently correcting his suit.

Lando merely smiled in her direction and without hesitation placed his hand on her cheek and leaned in, pressing their lips together in a quick but tender kiss. This was not how they had imagined their first kiss, but in that moment it was their best memory and the time this kiss could have happened. Lando pulled away from [Y.N], their eyes met and they both smiled at each other, giggling under their breath.

Lando checked his watch, feeling the familiar pre-race jitters starting to creep in.

“I’ve got to go,” he said reluctantly, turning to her. His parents stepped back to give them a moment of privacy.

“Good luck out there,” she whispered, her eyes shining with pride. “You’re going to do amazing.”

Lando smiled, but there was a flicker of nerves in his eyes. “I hope so. This one’s important,” he said softly.

[Y.N] reached up, cupping his cheek with her hand. “You’ve got this, Lando. I believe in you.”

Without thinking, Lando leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a swift, impulsive kiss. It wasn’t planned, but in that moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He pulled back, their eyes locking, and they both smiled.

“For good luck,” he whispered, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

And even if he came in third place after the race, it didn't bother him much. He won something better and it was an amazing woman.

HI IBIZA: Max Fewtrell stream Max knew Lando since they were kids. Both could not imagine life without the other person, they were inseparable. Even if it didn't work out for them to be Formula One drivers by their side, it didn't change anything. They were always side by side, and as soon as Max heard about Lando's new crush, he knew this was the one. Norris had never talked so seriously and eagerly about any girl before. And Max liked to tease him about it. But at the same time, he was damn happy.

The warm glow of sunset in Ibiza paints everything with a golden sheen. Lando Norris, Max Fewtrell and their group of friends held a casual live stream at their bungalow, which they rented for the whole group of friends. This stream was definitely different from their typical ones, where they played games on two different sides of the screen, but that was good too.

Everyone was more muted than at times when they were playing and shouting at each other. However, the biggest difference could be felt in Lando. He was more subdued, gently but sincerely smiling, and his eyes shone with such happiness that you could envy him.

The stream had been going on for about an hour, and the fans didn't run out of questions. They were inundated with the same questions as always, but today they had more opportunity to answer them because they weren't stressed by the background game. Lando kept getting questions about the Championship, the races, the competition and some side silliness. Until Max caught one significant comment among thousands of others. And of course he had to ask them.

Fan comment: "Lando, what brought back that smile? It's been a long time since we've seen you so happy, and of course that's great, but what's your secret?"

Max looks at Lando with a smile and winks. "Good question," he says, leaning back in his chair. "So, man, what's been making you so happy lately?"

"Oh, you know. Life has been better lately. Beautiful weather, sunshine, we have a beach house. The break from racing is good for me too, my head isn't as busy," Lando replied, playing with his hair and smiling under his breath.

Oh how he lied, how he lied to keep his bubble of happiness calm even longer.

"Really? Gee, I guess I agree with that comment, you're somehow happier lately," said Max, glancing at Lando with a teasing look. He remembered well how Lando had talked down his relationship on the stream, but he wasn't going to do the same to him. "Or maybe you've found a hobby other than Formula One?"

"Maybe," he laughed lightly under his breath, feeling the warmth inside his body. "I guess I just got old and I'm not that rebellious 20-year-old anymore "

"Oh, it's definitely old age, you name it" Max laughed and went back to looking for interesting comments, leaving the matter of Lando's happiness. He wanted his friend to still have peace from prying eyes.

After the stream was over, everyone went their separate ways. Some decided to have a bonfire, but Lando felt he needed the solitude. He walked out to the beach, which they had right outside the gate of their cottage, and felt the cooler evening wind brush his face. He smiled under his breath when he saw [Y.N] by the shore. It wasn't a smile that the cameras could see; he reserved this one for her alone.

The girl was wearing a white loose dress that swayed gently in the wind, and her hair was tousled by the wind. It wasn't a moment before she heard him and gently turned toward him, giving him a beautiful smile. "Have you finished the stream yet?"

"It's been a while now," Lando stepped closer, feeling the sand under his feet surround him pleasantly. "I had to get away from the chaos. And the fans are getting curious, they asked what secret I have"

Girl raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Secret? What secret?"

Lando smiles mischievously and walks closer. "That I'm the happiest I've been in years." - he says in a quiet but sincere voice.

[Y.N] smiles, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Without another word, she steps into his arms, and Lando doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her, pulling her close. They stand there for a moment, just the two of them, the sound of the waves crashing in the background. Lando takes a deep breath and places a kiss on her hair, pulling her even closer to him. It was the peace he had needed for a long time

FIRST CHRISMTAS: [Y.N] Lando and [Y.N] had been together for almost half a year. Their lives were filled with happiness that neither of them had ever experienced before. From the first day, they understood each other like two peas in a pod, and that's how it stayed. That's why she was surprised by how happy Lando was.

The couple in love are together in the kitchen, with the countertop in front of them strewn with flour and other ingredients for making gingerbread cookies. [Y.N] is wearing one of Lando's voluminous sweaters and humming a Christmas carol, pacing next to the countertop. Lando, on the other hand, dressed in his loose Mclaren T-shirt and Christmas pajama pants, is trying to roll out the dough, but it's not going well. His hands are covered in flour and the dough keeps sticking to the rolling pin. Well, it's easier to say that his whole body is covered in flour.

"Do you need help, chef?" - asks [Y.N], leaning against the countertop and looking at him with an amused smile.

Lando raises his gaze, feigning impatience. "It's harder than it looks, sure?" - He laughs, combing his flour-dusted hair with his hand. "I thought baking was supposed to be easy."

"It's easy, you just have some manual problems," the girl laughs and moves to his side, gently taking the rolling pin from his hands. "Here, let me," she says, guiding him to the side. Their fingers brush as she takes over, a soft, tender moment.

"Sure, my baking queen," the boy laughs, looking at her with adoration.

"You could do the icing." the girl says, pointing to the already made gingerbread cookies.

Lando's eyes brighten, his smile widening. "Icing, huh? That's sounds better." He grabs a piping bag and starts filling it, but as he attempts to pipe a simple design, it all goes horribly wrong.

“Lando!” she laughs, her eyes crinkling with amusement. The icing has spilled everywhere.

He looks down at his hands, dripping with icing. “Well, that’s not what I had in mind…” He shrugs sheepishly.

“You’re adorable when you try, you know that?” She leans in and wipes a bit of icing from his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin.

“And you’re just adorable,” he says, moving closer to her.

Lando’s hands quickly find their place on her waist, and his face is twisted into a genuine big smile. They both giggle, putting the matter of the cookies aside.

“What brought that smile again, huh?” the girl asks, touching his lips, which is also dirty with icing.

“You,” he says simply, and his voice carries a quiet sincerity that makes her heart skip a beat. "It was always you"

For a moment, they both stand in silence, the hum of the Christmas music in the background, the quiet crackling of the small fire in the corner of the livingroom adding to the coziness of the apartment. It’s a peaceful stillness, the kind that only exists between two people who’ve found something real.

A/N: i know it's no nut november and this should be smut but i swear when i had a vision i had to write this. i hope you like it because i won't lie, i fucking love it!

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

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etherealglimmer · 2 years ago

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How are all my Week of Manifestation taurus doing?

#its our birthday week #secret language of birthdays #the week of manifestation #May 1-May 7 #taurus

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theetherealbloom · 5 months ago

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I LOVE YOU, I'M SORRY

Summary: Your soulmate’s birthday is written on your arm, and it just happened to be the day the world ended.

Paring: Jackson!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Apocalypse, ANGST, Fluff, Infected, Violence, Scratching, Age-Gap (the reader is in her 20s) Romance, Unrequited, Longing, Yearning, Secrets, Injury, Blood, Jealousy, Secret Glances, Metaphors, Character Death/s, Raiders, Ambush, Hospital, Stress, Hurt-To-Comfort,

Word Count: 7k

A/N: I 1000% came up with this one night while scrolling through prompts and AUs I could do for Joel. I saw the Soulmate AU and I was like “oh, yeah,” *evil laugh* and then I heard the snippet for I love you, I’m Sorry and I was like, “yep, perfect, time to go through pain :D”

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: i love you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams

| Main Masterlist |

September 26, 1967.

The date emblazoned on your wrist felt like a cruel joke, a bitter reminder of a world that had crumbled around you. The small pulse of the glow on your wrist thrummed, a haunting echo of the past. September 26 was outbreak day. The day the end of the world had come crashing down, leaving chaos and devastation in its wake. The inked numbers throbbed on your skin, a constant reminder that your soulmate was out there, somewhere in this apocalyptic wasteland.

You traced the numbers on your wrist, the ink seeming darker today, wondering if you’d ever meet the person who was meant for you. What kind of person could they be? Were they strong, gentle, kind, or hardened by the harsh world?

Hiding the mark from Joel for almost a decade took more than just care; it took an absolute miracle. You met Joel, Tess, and Tommy on your way to the Boston QZ. When you saw Joel’s wrist and the date there, you almost stopped breathing. Your birthdate on his skin was an unexpected blow. The ink on your wrist seemed to burn, yearning to connect with Joel. But his mark didn’t seem to react the same way.

When Joel and Tess started sleeping together, the walls between your apartments were paper-thin which seemed to amplify every intimate sound. You often found yourself wandering the hallways late at night, evading FEDRA officers, sitting on the rooftop, looking up at the empty night sky, stars twinkling, the moon bright. You wished for something good in a world gone bad.

You always wore long sleeves, even in unbearable heat. If you wore a short-sleeved shirt, you never took off your jacket, always coming up with some insane excuse about how cozy it was. It had become second nature, a routine you hardly thought about anymore.

As you kept your head down and worked, the grime and sweat accumulates on your skin. In exchange for your labor, you were given ration cards to obtain basic necessities.

"If it's so hot, why don't you just take off the damn jacket?" Joel gruffly asks, his irritation evident in his tone.

You stay silent and shrug, avoiding eye contact as you try to walk away to the next station, hoping to distance yourself from him. But he grabs your wrist, causing you to yank it away in surprise. "Joel, what the hell?"

Joel's tone is sharp and accusatory, causing you to instinctively flinch. "You're being awfully quiet," he scoffs.

You meet his eyes, trying to hide the turmoil inside. "What?"

"Something's off with you. What aren't you telling me?" Joel steps closer, invading your personal space, and you instinctively take a step back.

Panic sets in as you desperately search for a way out. You can't tell him the truth, so you grit your teeth and force out a lie. "I'm just tired."

"You're lying." Joel's words cut through you like a knife, making your heart race and palms sweat. The intensity of his gaze makes it clear that he won't let this go easily.

You try to remain composed, forcing a small smile. "I'm just tired from working all day."

Joel narrows his eyes, clearly not buying your excuse. "Bullshit," he says bluntly.

You bite your lip, feeling the weight of the lie in the pit of your stomach. "I promise, it's nothing."

Joel takes a step closer, making you back up against the wall. Your heart races as you feel trapped under his intense stare. "I know when something's bothering you," he says softly, his tone filled with concern.

You look down at your feet, unable to meet his gaze any longer. You've been hiding this secret for so long that the thought of telling anyone, especially Joel, terrifies you.

"Please," Joel pleads, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. "Just talk to me."

"I have to go," you urgently declare, heart pounding as you turn and bolt away, ignoring Joel's desperate calls for you to stop.

Your heart races as you run through the dark, narrow alleys, trying to put as much distance between you and Joel as possible. The fear and adrenaline pumping through your veins drive you forward, but at the same time, your mind is racing with thoughts of guilt for leaving Joel behind.

"Why did I have to lie?" you think to yourself. "Why couldn't I just tell him the truth?"

But deep down, you know why. You know that if you were to tell anyone about the secret burdening you, it could cost both of your lives. And as much as it pains you to not tell Joel, there is no other choice.

The memories hit you like a tidal wave, pulling you back to that moment in time. But this time, it feels like you're watching from a distance, like a bystander in your own body.

"You can convince them. You always do." The words echo through your mind as Tess begs you and Joel for help. Tears stream down her face as she pleads, "You have to get her there. Keep her safe. Make things right." Joel shakes his head stubbornly, but Tess doesn't give up. "Please, Joel. Please say yes."

Everything feels surreal as you remember the infected pounding at the door, their screams like a constant reminder of what's at stake. And then Tess is gone, sacrificing herself with the rest of the infected to save the others.

Tess, your friend died that day.

But then everything shifts and you're in a different place, a house belonging to Bill and Frank. Ellie is reading a letter aloud, and you and Joel are there listening. "I used to hate the world," Ellie says, "but I was wrong. When I met my soulmate, there was one person worth saving. That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do and God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep…”

You remember Joel storming out of the house with the letter, his grief and pain palpable in every movement he makes. It's a bitter taste in both of your mouths, but it's also a reminder of why you keep fighting – because there are people worth protecting and worth saving.

Joel may not even realize it, but you've been waiting for him your entire life. And the same goes for Joel.

The scene changes once more; the deafening sound of gunshots pierces your ears and suddenly you're back in the hospital. You're behind Joel, gripping a rifle tightly as you navigate through the chaos and bodies scattered throughout the halls.

Suddenly, you startle awake. Your heart races in your chest, and sweat trickles down your skin as you struggle to catch your breath.

You’re not out there. You’re in Jackson. You’re safe.

You briefly close your eyes, trying to shake off the lingering feelings of fear and loss from the dream. It had been two years since that fateful day in the hospital, and you were now living in Jackson with Joel and Ellie.

You gasped for breath and clutched your chest, trying to steady yourself with one hand on the softness of the sheets. You clambered out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, washing your hands and then your face. The cool water felt refreshing against your skin as you wiped it with a towel, trying to calm your nerves.

Taking a good look at yourself in the mirror, you saw the exhaustion written all over your face. The restlessness was evident in the dark circles under your eyes, and your hair was in a state of disarray.

"I look like I've been through hell," you muttered to yourself, sighing heavily.

You decided to take a shower, hoping it would help numb the pain. As the water cascaded over you, you let yourself sink into your thoughts, not really focusing on anything except the sound of water hitting your skin. Your bleary vision noticed the small cracks in the tiles on the wall.

Once you dried off and got dressed for the day, you headed downstairs to your small kitchen. The space had seen better days—cabinet doors hung slightly askew, and the pantry door refused to close all the way no matter how hard you tried.

You sighed, pushing the pantry door shut one more time before giving up and grabbing a mug from the chipped shelf. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, the bitter aroma filling the air as you took a tentative sip, savoring the warmth.

Later that morning, you stepped out of your little house in Jackson, pausing to take in the crisp air. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft golden light over the town. You noticed the creaky and loose steps of your porch under your feet, each step emitting a groan of protest. The railings wobbled as you gripped them for balance, making a mental note to add them to your growing list of things that needed fixing.

It was just about daybreak, the sun slowly peeking over the horizon, casting a golden glow. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jeans, the cozy sweater you wore providing some comfort as you made your way to the stables.

You were part of the barn support staff on rotation and consistently helped out in the greenhouse. Sometimes, you were out on patrol, but today was a barn day.

As you cleaned the barn and took care of the horses, you unconsciously rolled up your sleeves, figuring no one else would be up this early. You were alone in the stables, or so you thought.

Lifting a hand to wipe the sweat from your brow, you sighed. Suddenly, you heard the sound of something dropping and a familiar voice exclaiming, "Holy shit!"

You whipped your head around to the source of the sound and saw Ellie standing there, her eyes wide as she stared directly at your wrist.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, hastily pulling your sleeve down.

Ellie took a step closer, her curiosity piqued. "Is that... a soulmate mark?"

You avoided her gaze, feeling exposed. "It's nothing, Ellie. Just... don't worry about it."

"Nothing?!" She looked incredulous. "You’ve been hiding it all this time. Why didn't you tell me?"

You sighed, the weight of your secret feeling heavier than ever. "It's complicated, Ellie. Joel... Joel doesn't know."

Ellie’s eyes widened even more. "Joel? As in... Joel?"

You nodded, unable to find the right words. The truth was out now, and there was no going back.

Ellie moved into your space, her curiosity getting the better of her. Without warning, she grabbed your wrist, yanking it towards her. Her eyes zeroed in on the birthdate etched into your skin, her face a mix of shock and realization.

"September 26, 1967," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze snapped up to meet yours, eyes wide. "That's Joel's birthday."

You tried to pull your wrist back, but Ellie held on tight, her grip firm and unyielding. "Ellie, please," you started, your voice shaky.

"Dude," she cut you off, her tone urgent and insistent. "You need to fucking tell him."

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "Ellie, it's not that simple," you began, but she shook her head, not letting you finish.

"Not that simple?" she repeated, incredulous. "You've got his birthday on your wrist. You're soulmates! How much more complicated can it be?"

Your shoulders slumped as you finally managed to free your wrist from her grip. You rubbed the tender skin, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "You don't understand," you said softly. "Joel... he's been through so much. And so have I. Telling him now, after all these years... it might just make things worse."

Ellie's expression softened, but she didn't back down. "You think keeping it a secret is any better? He deserves to know. You both do."

You turned away, unable to meet her eyes. "Joel... he's moved on, he doesn’t want anything to do with relationships, and I don’t want to disrupt that."

Ellie snorted, crossing her arms. "Moved on? Joel’s not exactly the moving on type. He carries everything with him, all the time. You think he doesn't feel something for you?"

You glanced back at her, tears welling up in your eyes. "And what if he doesn't? What if he sees this and... and it means nothing to him?"

Ellie sighed, stepping closer and placing a hand on your shoulder. "You'll never know if you don't try. And trust me, he’s stronger than you think. You both are."

Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, you just stood there, lost in thought. Finally, you nodded, a small, tentative movement. "I'll think about it," you whispered.

Ellie squeezed your shoulder gently before letting go. "Good. Because secrets have a way of coming out, one way or another. And it's better if it comes from you."

As she turned to leave, you stared down at the date on your wrist, the ink seeming to pulse with a life of its own.

Maybe Ellie was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding.

You sat alone on the bench in the food hall, picking at your meal and lost in your thoughts when a familiar drawl pulled you back to reality.

"Hey, darlin’."

The sound of Joel’s voice made your heart skip a beat, and a sudden warmth spread through your body. You nearly choked on your food, glancing up to see him settling next to you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Hi, Joel,” you sputtered, trying to regain your composure.

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “No, not at all.”

He leaned back, his shoulder brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “How’s your day been?”

You shrugged, trying to appear casual. “Busy, as always. Barn duties and all that.”

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering on your face. “Yeah, I hear you’ve been workin’ hard. Always see you runnin’ around, takin’ care of things.”

A soft blush crept up your cheeks under his scrutiny. “Just trying to keep busy, you know? What about you?”

“Same old,” he replied, his voice low and soothing. “Patrols, repairs, keepin’ an eye on Ellie. She’s a handful.”

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “She definitely keeps us on our toes.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he watched you, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The bustling noise of the food hall became a distant hum, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

“You look tired,” he said gently, concern evident in his voice. “Everything alright?”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. “Just… a lot on my mind lately.”

Joel reached out, his hand resting lightly on your arm. The touch was brief but sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes searched yours, concern evident. “You sure you’re alright?”

Your breath hitched at the back of your throat, but you forced a smile. “Mmm... yeah. Just going through a to-do list in my mind right now.”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze never leaving your face. “Anythin’ that needs fixin’, darlin’?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just a few kitchen cabinets... the hinges squeak, and the pantry door doesn’t close all the way. Also a couple of loose steps and a wobbly railing too.

He nodded, his lips curling into a small smile. “Well, why don’t I take a look? Might be an easy fix.”

Your heart fluttered at the offer, a mix of gratitude and the thrill of being near him. “You don’t have to, Joel. I know you’re busy.”

Joel chuckled softly, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment longer before he let go. “I’ve always got time for you. Besides, can’t have you fightin’ with those cabinets every day.”

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Alright, if you insist.”

Joel’s eyes twinkled with a warm light. “I’ll swing by tomorrow mornin’, if that’s alright with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending more time with him. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’d appreciate the help.”

He gave a slow, easy smile that made your stomach flutter. “Great. I’ll bring my tools and we’ll get this place sorted.”

The way he said “we” filled you with a sense of comfort and belonging. “Thanks, Joel. It really means a lot.”

Joel stepped closer, his hand brushing against your arm in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Anytime, darlin’. You know I’m here for you.”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I know.”

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, the air thick with unspoken words and the electric tension between you. Finally, he took a step back, breaking the spell.

“I should get goin’,” he said, his voice a bit huskier than usual. “Gotta talk to Tommy ‘bout somethin’.”

“Right, of course,” you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment but also a thrill of anticipation for tomorrow.

Joel lingered by the table, a hand on your shoulder. “Take care, okay?”

“You too, Joel,” you said softly.

He nodded and turned to leave, but not before giving you one last, lingering look. You watched him walk away, your heart pounding and your mind racing with thoughts of what tomorrow might bring.

The next morning, you were up at dawn, nerves and excitement thrumming through you as you tidied up the kitchen. Each movement was deliberate, an attempt to keep your mind occupied. But no matter how much you tried to focus, you couldn’t help but glance at the clock every few minutes, your heart racing each time the hands inched closer to Joel’s promised arrival.

As you finished your second cup of coffee, the knock on the door startled you, sending a jolt through your already frazzled nerves. You took a deep breath to steady yourself and opened the door to find Joel standing there, a toolbox in one hand and a warm, familiar smile on his face.

“Good mornin’,” he greeted, stepping inside, his presence filling the room.

“Morning, Joel,” you replied, the rush of warmth at seeing him making your voice tremble slightly.

He set the toolbox down and looked around the kitchen with a critical eye. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealin’ with here.”

As Joel began inspecting the cabinets and pantry door, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. Every subtle flex of his muscles under his shirt drew your attention, and you found it hard to look away.

“Found the problem,” he said, pulling you from your thoughts. “Just needs a little tightening and some oil.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the magnetic pull of his proximity. “I’m glad it’s an easy fix.”

Joel smiled, his eyes locking with yours, sending a spark of electricity through you. “Told you it wouldn’t be a problem.”

As he worked, you found yourself drawn to him, moving closer under the pretense of handing him tools or holding a flashlight. Each accidental brush of your hands sent a jolt through you, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. You felt your pulse quicken every time his fingers grazed yours.

“There,” Joel said finally, standing up and testing the now-silent hinges. “Good as new.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and a little breathless from being so close to him. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He chuckled, wiping his hands on a rag. “Just doin’ what I can.”

You both stood there for a moment, the kitchen suddenly feeling too small and too big all at once. The silence between you was heavy with everything you weren’t saying, a tension that seemed to thicken the air.

“Joel,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I really appreciate this. More than you know.”

He looked at you, his expression softening in a way that made your heart ache. “I’m glad I could help. And I meant what I said yesterday—you don’t have to do everything alone.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you took a tentative step closer, the distance between you feeling like an unbearable chasm. “It’s hard to ask for help sometimes. But knowing you’re here... it makes a difference.”

Joel reached out, his fingers lightly grazing your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ll always be here for you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

The intensity in his eyes made your breath catch. You felt drawn to him, the unspoken connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. Without thinking, you closed the remaining distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest.

His breath hitched as you moved closer, the air between you charged with a heady mix of anticipation and yearning. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between holding back and giving in. The warmth of his body so close to yours was intoxicating, and you felt your resolve weakening with each passing second.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with all the longing you’d kept hidden for so long.

He swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving yours. “I—”

Just as the air between you thickened with unspoken words, a sudden, sharp knock on the door interrupted the moment. You both turned to see a young woman standing there, her eyes lighting up when she saw Joel.

“Hey, Joel!” she called out, her tone annoyingly bright. “I heard you were here and thought I’d bring over some coffee. Figured you could use a break.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. “Uh, thanks, Vanessa,” he replied, his voice strained. “But we’re kinda in the middle of something.”

Vanessa’s eyes flicked to you, her gaze turning cold. “Oh, I see. Well, maybe I could help?”

Before you could step away, Joel’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close. The unexpected gesture sent a shiver through you, and you looked up at him, your heart pounding.

“We’re busy, Vanessa,” Joel said firmly, his hand resting possessively on your hip. “Thanks for the offer, but we’ve got it covered.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in obvious jealousy. “Right. Well, if you change your mind...” She trailed off, her eyes lingering on you with a mixture of disdain and envy before she finally turned and walked away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Joel’s grip on your waist loosened, but he didn’t let go. His eyes met yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, his voice low. “Didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “It��s okay. I appreciate the backup.”

Joel chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against your side in a way that sent tingles down your spine. “Guess we should get back to work, huh?”

You nodded, reluctantly stepping back, though his touch lingered in your mind. “Yeah, the step and railing on the porch still need fixing.”

Together, you moved outside, the tension from earlier still simmering between you. As Joel inspected the loose step, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. The way his hands moved with such confidence and skill, the way his brow furrowed in concentration—it all captivated you.

“Can you hold this steady for me?” he asked, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You nodded, stepping closer to help. Your hands brushed against his as you held the wood in place, and the contact sent a jolt through you. The proximity, the shared task, the quiet intimacy of the moment—it all felt like a dance, each movement charged with unspoken feelings.

“Almost got it,” Joel murmured, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it took all your willpower not to lean into him.

Finally, he tightened the last screw and tested the step, making sure it was secure. “There. That should do it.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and more than a little breathless. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening. “Just doin’ what I can.”

As you both stood there on the porch, the morning sun casting a golden glow around you, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you. Everything you wanted to say but didn't wash over you in the awkward stillness, and the feelings you shared were nearly visible.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the landscape as you and your patrol partner, Mark, scouted the perimeter. He was easy-going, always ready with a joke or a reassuring word. You found his presence comforting, a steady rock amidst the chaos.

“Think we’ll find anything today?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

Mark grinned, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Nah, it’s been quiet for a while now. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

Just as the words left his mouth, a shot rang out. The next few moments were a blur of chaos and violence. Raiders, hidden in the underbrush, launched their attack. Mark managed to shoot one off you, his quick reflexes saving your life. But then, he was hit, and you watched in horror as he crumpled to the ground.

“Mark!” you screamed, dropping to your knees beside him. Blood poured from a wound in his chest, and his breaths came in ragged gasps. You pressed your hands against the wound, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood. “Stay with me, Mark. Please, stay with me.”

But his eyes glazed over, the light fading. You choked back a sob, fury and grief surging through you as the raiders closed in. You fought with every ounce of strength you had, slashing and stabbing, your vision blurred by tears and the pouring rain that had begun to fall. Blood and dirt smeared your face, and pain lanced through your body from multiple wounds.

The storm roared with fury, whipping the trees and lashing the ground with torrents of rain. You stumbled through the churning chaos, your clothes drenched and clinging to your skin, your muscles burning from the effort of pushing forward. Your vision blurred by the onslaught, you fought to keep moving, each step a battle against the ferocious elements. In that moment, all that mattered was survival - staying alive until the tempest passed.

It had been hours since Joel last saw them. His graying hair was in danger of being pulled out in frustration. You and Mark were supposed to be back by now. The patrol route you both took was supposed to be a shorter one.

Joel paced back and forth in the settlement, struggling to contain his anger. “Why the hell can’t I go out there, Tommy? She’s my partner, my—” He cut himself off, frustration and fear etched into his features.

Tommy placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice firm. “You’re too close to this, Joel. You need to stay here. I’ll find her.”

Hours dragged by, each minute an eternity. Joel’s rage simmered, his helplessness gnawing at him. He punched the wall, his knuckles splitting, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear of losing you.

Tommy had taken a small team out to search for you and Mark, but there was still no word. The storm raged on, making it even harder to find any trace of you.

Joel’s mind raced with possibilities – had you and Mark been ambushed? Taken by the raiders? Injured and unable to make it back? His heart clenched at the thought of you hurt or worse.

He cursed himself for not going out with you both, for letting his emotions cloud his judgement. He knew better than anyone that in this world, you couldn’t afford to let your guard down. But he had let himself become complacent, too focused on protecting you rather than seeing things clearly.

Bile rises in Joel's throat, the taste of fear and worry leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He swallows hard, trying to push the feeling down as he anxiously waits for any news.

The bitter taste of regret and fear lingered on Joel’s tongue, each thought of what could happen to you making his stomach turn.

The metallic taste of blood was thick on Joel's tongue as he bit down on his lip, trying to hold back his emotions. The rancid taste of fear and worry lingered in his mouth, coating his throat and making it hard to swallow.

Meanwhile, Tommy pushed through the storm, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness. The wind howled around him, carrying with it the distant echoes of thunder. He called out your name, his voice barely audible above the roar of the tempest. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination, each step sinking into the mud as he trudged forward.

The rain came down in sheets, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. Lightning flashed, illuminating the twisted branches and slick ground for brief moments. He stumbled over fallen logs and through thick underbrush, the storm making every movement a struggle.

Tommy's eyes darted around, searching desperately. He felt a gnawing dread in the pit of his stomach, a fear that he was too late. Then, in the distance, he saw a figure lying still. His breath caught in his throat as he hurried over, praying that it wasn't you.

As he got closer, he recognized the bodies of the raiders, their lifeless forms sprawled across the muddy ground. The sight was gruesome, the aftermath of a brutal fight. His heart sank when he saw Mark, his friend and comrade, lying motionless with a fatal wound. He forced himself to look away, his focus now solely on finding you.

Finally, his eyes landed on you, crumpled and barely breathing. His heart pounded in his chest as he knelt beside you. Blood soaked your clothes, mingling with the dirt and rain, creating a grim tapestry that told the story of your fierce struggle.

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Tommy murmured, his voice trembling with urgency and concern. He gently lifted your head, cradling you in his arms. You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open to reveal dazed, pain-filled eyes.

“Joel?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm. The confusion and pain in your gaze made Tommy’s heart clench.

Tommy’s eyes widened as he saw the mark on your wrist, illuminated by a flash of lightning. It was the same date he had seen on Joel’s wrist—the same mark. Realization hit him like a freight train, the pieces falling into place with a sudden clarity. “It’s Tommy,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve got you. Just hold on.”

But you had already slipped back into unconsciousness, your body limp in his arms. Tommy’s heart raced as he gently but urgently lifted you, securing you on his horse. He mounted behind you, holding you close to keep you steady, and spurred the horse into a gallop.

The ride back was a blur of rain and darkness, each second stretching into an eternity. The storm seemed to rage even harder, the wind whipping through the trees and the rain stinging like needles. Tommy’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, fear for your life mingling with the shocking revelation of your connection to Joel.

By the time Tommy reached the settlement, his clothes were soaked through, clinging to his skin like a second, frigid layer. Every muscle in his body ached from the grueling ride and the weight of your unconscious form. The rain had not let up, and his vision was blurred by the relentless downpour. But he didn't stop, carrying you swiftly yet carefully towards the infirmary, each step a struggle against exhaustion and worry.

Joel was just by the large gate of Jackson, pacing anxiously. The moment he saw Tommy approaching with your limp body, his heart seemed to stop. His face, already drawn with worry, twisted into an expression of sheer desperation.

“Is she okay?” Joel asked frantically, his voice cracking. His eyes were wide, darting between Tommy and your pale face for any sign of hope.

“She’s alive,” Tommy said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. He handed you over to the medics who were rushing to meet them. Joel instinctively moved to follow, but Tommy grabbed his arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Joel, wait. Look at her wrist,” Tommy urged, his voice low but insistent.

Joel’s eyes followed Tommy's gaze, landing on the mark on your wrist. Recognition hit him like a punch to the gut, the date etched into your skin unmistakable. It was the same as his. Realization dawned with a mixture of awe and dread. “Fuck,” he breathed, the weight of it crashing over him. The one person he couldn’t afford to lose was you, and now he knew why.

The medics were quick, their movements efficient as they assessed your injuries and began to prepare you for treatment. They lifted you onto a stretcher, intent on rushing you inside where they could better tend to your wounds. Joel moved to follow, his protective instincts kicking in, but the medics tried to hold him back.

“Sir, you need to let us do our job,” one of them said, a young woman with a firm but gentle voice.

“No,” Joel growled, his eyes blazing with determination and fear. “I ain’t leavin’ her side.”

Tommy stepped in, trying to reason with him. “Joel, you gotta let the doctors work.”

Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, his whole body trembling with the effort to contain his emotions. “I can’t… I can’t lose her, Tommy,” he choked out, his voice raw with pain and anger.

“I know, but you stayin’ in there won’t help her. You’ll only be in the way,” Tommy said, his tone gentle but firm. He placed a reassuring hand on Joel’s shoulder, trying to ground him. “You’ve gotta trust them to do their job. Let them help her.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, his eyes locked on the door to the infirmary where they had taken you. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to be by your side, to make sure you were safe. But he knew Tommy was right. With a heavy, reluctant nod, he allowed himself to be led away, his heart aching with every step.

The minutes stretched into an eternity as they waited. Joel paced back and forth, his mind racing with worry. He could still see the image of you, broken and bloodied, every time he closed his eyes. The mark on your wrist haunted him, a constant reminder of the bond that tied you together. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he couldn't bear to lose you.

Tommy stood by, watching his brother with a mixture of sympathy and concern. He knew how much you meant to Joel, and the revelation of the soulmate mark only intensified that bond. He wished there was something more he could do, some way to ease Joel’s pain.

Finally, a medic emerged from the infirmary, her expression tired but relieved. “She’s stable,” she announced, and Joel felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “She’s got a long road to recovery, but she’s a fighter.”

Joel nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude and determination. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He would stay by your side, no matter what. The bond you shared was too precious to ever let go.

Days blurred into a haze of sterile white walls and the rhythmic beeping of machines. You drifted in and out of consciousness, each time greeted by the comforting sounds of Joel and Ellie. Joel's low, soothing voice often filled the room, whether he was talking to you or humming a soft tune. Ellie would sit by your bed, recounting stories with her usual animated flair, her voice a bright spot in the darkness.

One evening, as the storm outside mirrored the chaos within, you stirred slightly. The weight of Joel's hand on your wrist was a grounding force, his presence unwavering. He looked exhausted, his eyes heavy with worry, but he never left your side.

In one of your more lucid moments, you caught snippets of Joel's soft singing, the melody wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His voice was a balm, a tether to the world you were trying so hard to rejoin. He would often lean down to press gentle kisses to your forehead, his touch both a promise and a plea for you to come back to him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you awoke fully. Your throat was dry, and every muscle ached, but you were aware. The weight on your wrist brought your gaze to Joel. He was slumped in a chair beside your bed, his head resting on the edge, fast asleep. He looked worn out, dark circles under his eyes and a shadow of stubble on his jaw.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering open as if sensing your gaze.

“I...” Your voice came out as a croak, and you winced.

“Here, drink up,” Joel said, quickly pouring a glass of water and holding it to your lips. You drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.

After a few sips of water, you managed to find your voice again. “How long have I been out?” you asked, your throat feeling slightly raw from disuse.

“Almost a week,” Joel replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

“A week?” you repeated in shock. It felt like only a few hours had passed.

Joel nodded, his hand gently caressing your cheek. “You were pretty out of it for a while there.”

You felt a pang of guilt for causing so much worry and trouble for everyone. “I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“Don’t be sorry,” Joel said firmly, his eyes filled with intensity. “Just focus on getting better.”

“I will,” you promised, grateful for his unwavering support.

The relief on Joel’s face was palpable, but as he set the glass aside, a flicker of anger flashed in his eyes. “Were you ever going to tell me?” His voice was quiet, but the intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear.

You looked away, shame burning your cheeks. “Trust me, I know. It's always about me.”

Joel's jaw clenched. “I just… I didn’t think you could ever want me.” Your voice broke, the years of hiding and pretending catching up to you.

Joel’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek. “You’ve always been more than I deserve,” he murmured. “I just wish you’d told me.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you struggled to breathe. “I love you…” you choked out, the words finally escaping your lips after years of being held back. “I’m sorry.”

Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you sobbed. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

In the midst of life's storms, a quiet calm settled around you both, like discovering an oasis in the desert. Amidst chaos and pain, you found your soulmate, and love emerged as the unwavering light guiding you through the darkest nights.

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marcyvampire · 10 days ago

Text

pt.4 SILLY LITTLE BAT

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ In a Gotham steeped in darkness, Bruce Wayne confronts a past resonating with secrets. As he uncovers the identity of an enigmatic antiheroine, he will discover hidden truths that will stain his legacy. Blood, a symbol of betrayals, intertwines with his fate, revealing that darkness dwells within him as well.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, Religion, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, tw.noncon, Discrimination, Street Fights, Gaslight, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia

Chapter guide! Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is— I took a long time because I went on vacation, I wasn’t inspired, I had a lot of things to catch up on, and blah blah blah. The good thing is that I brought part 4, and just so you know, there are about four or five more parts of the story, maybe more.

I'm dirty, infinitely dirty,

this is why I scream so much

about purity.

Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of the memories and the silence that now inhabited that room. Every corner of that space reminded him of his daughter's presence, a presence that had been fragile and ephemeral, like smoke disappearing between fingers. He looked at the diplomas and trophies on the shelves, those small proofs of her effort and dedication. He caressed them with the same reverence he used when going through old photographs, searching for something, anything, that would tell him he had done enough, that he had been a good father.

But he only saw the same emptiness in her eyes that he had known since childhood. She resembled him more than he would have imagined. In her dull gaze, in her absent smile, he recognized the same pain that had accompanied him after his parents' death. He realized, almost bitterly, that this darkness was an inheritance, a shadow he had left in her without realizing it.

Bruce ran his fingers over an old photo from her first birthday after losing his mother. That day, Alfred had secretly taken her to Metropolis in a desperate attempt to give her some happiness. But even at the amusement park, where laughter and noise were contagious, her face remained a vacant mask. She wasn’t really smiling, as if something inside her knew she would never have the normalcy that other children enjoyed.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce rested his head on the pillow that had been hers, wanting to cling to the scent of his daughter. But there was no trace of her aroma left. Alfred, in an act of rigor that Bruce couldn’t understand, had eliminated any trace of her, perhaps trying to close a wound that Bruce was unwilling to let heal. He had reproached Alfred for hours and hours for erasing that last vestige of his daughter. But Alfred’s look, serious and filled with silence, told him what he already knew: maybe he didn’t deserve to keep those memories because he had failed to protect the person he loved most.

He closed his eyes, sinking into the pain of each thought that emerged from that dark room. Everything reminded him that, somehow, he was responsible for his daughter's disappearance, as if his own shadows had consumed her. In his mind, images of what he could have done differently began to surface, a parade of possibilities where he was a better father, more attentive and less blind to her suffering.

Suddenly, Titus and Alfred the Cat entered together through the door, coming in silently, as if they understood the weight of that moment. Titus approached Bruce, resting his massive head on his knee, while Alfred the Cat jumped onto Bruce's lap, purring softly. Bruce petted the dog and the cat, finding in them the only comfort that seemed left to him. His voice trembled when, in an almost delirious tone, he confessed to them:

"Maybe I’m the real killer here. What kind of father lets his daughter get lost in the dark? What kind of monster was I that I never saw her pain? If she’s dead… if my little girl has left this world… then I am the only one responsible."

He paused, breathing heavily, as the words he wanted to suppress escaped his lips in a bitter and disturbing whisper. "Sometimes I wish I had… had stopped her mother. If she hadn’t been… if I had raised her from the beginning… I could have saved her from so much pain."

The words, though spoken in a barely audible murmur, weighed heavily in the room. He caressed the pillow, almost pleading for the past to change, for every mistake to be undone. The cat purred softly, as if understanding the pain Bruce was trying to stifle deep in his chest. Titus looked at him with eyes full of loyalty, without judging him, but not offering the redemption he desperately sought.

"I would give anything for a second chance," he whispered, his voice broken. "I would give my life to undo every moment that made her drift away. I would give anything to see her smile again, even if it were just once… even if it were just to tell her how sorry I am."

The house was silent, and in that instant, Bruce understood that there were no words, no time, no strength that could change the past. He was trapped in an abyss of guilt, with only shadows and memories now haunting him, reflecting his own empty and broken face.

Finally, he could no longer contain himself. Feeling the emptiness in his chest, tears began to fall onto the pillow, soaking it with his pain, as if the weight of his own guilt slid out in every sob he tried to stifle. His face was buried in the memory of his daughter, lost in the pain that tormented him with an intensity he could no longer bear.

It was then that Damian entered, dressed as Robin, with his katana stained with a dark red liquid that could be nothing other than blood, with a sharp and direct arrogance, breaking the silent mourning of Bruce. Coldly, he looked at his father and pronounced, almost with disdain, "No matter how much you cry like a whore, Y/N won’t come back."

Bruce looked up, surprised and hurt, but before he could respond, Damian continued with the same hardness. "While everyone was out in a gang like a bunch of lowlifes and came back empty-handed, I found something you didn’t even bother to look for while lying here like a cheap whore." Damian looked at him with a mix of disappointment and reproach, as if he couldn’t understand how his father had let so many signs slip by.

"Did you know? I had a relationship with Ivy, that old woman who had the indecency to date my little sister while being an old hag. Plus, she worked as a waitress in some bar wearing little clothes to survive. Like some common bitch. And the last time, she was seen in the subway, with a strange man with psychiatric crazy vibes... surely another one that slipped away while you were lying here." Damian’s words were blows to Bruce, each revelation a testament to how much he had let slip away.

Damian continued, each phrase laden with resentment and questions. "Why did she have to work? Why did she, the daughter of the renowned multimillionaire Bruce Wayne, the masked hero of Gotham, have to depend on a miserable paycheck that didn’t even cover the end of the month? And the subway, father, did she really have to take the subway like any unknown person in this city?"

Bruce looked down, unable to respond. Each of those questions was a dagger reminding him how far he had been from understanding his own daughter. He had ignored, or perhaps never wanted to see, the sacrifices she made to survive, the paths she took in search of something he had never given her. Now, with Damian's words filling the silence, Bruce realized he had condemned his daughter to the same fate he was trying to combat on the streets.

Damian watched him, his gaze cold and critical, as the room filled with a tense silence. For the first time, Bruce understood that perhaps he was never the hero he thought he was, and that in his attempt to protect everyone, he had failed to protect the one who needed him the most.

Bruce felt anger bubbling inside him, intensifying with each word that left Damian's lips. "How dare you come in here and say that? You weren’t a brother to her, you weren’t there when she needed you the most," he shot back, his voice echoing in the room like dark thunder. The image of his daughter intertwined with his rage, each contained tear now fueling his fury.

Damian frowned, unrestrained. "That's how I show my affection; you should be used to it," he retorted disdainfully, recalling that moment when he arrived at the mansion, he had stabbed Y/N with his katana. "I did what I had to do, and I don’t have to accept your reproaches. Everyone failed Y/N, even you."

"Don’t try to blame others for your own failures!" Bruce shouted, frustration filling every corner of his being. "You weren’t there, Damian. You can’t always hide behind your arrogance."

Damian crossed his arms, his defiant attitude unbreakable. "And what if I wasn't? At least I didn’t hide behind a mask of sadness. Better stop reproaching me and listen to what I have for you." He stepped closer, pulling out a half-open old cardboard box. "I brought you a gift."

Bruce looked at him suspiciously. "What is it now?"

"I went looking for Selina, but she slipped away like a scared kitten," Damian said, mocking the situation. "A waste of time, but I found Ivy in Arkham. She said little about Y/N, which annoyed me, so… well, here you go." He opened the box slowly, revealing Poison Ivy's head, the fresh blood still dripping from the edges.

Her face, once beautiful, was now serene, with pale skin and a touch of green that evoked her connection to nature. Her normally vibrant red hair now fell messily around her face, while her eyes, closed forever, seemed almost at peace, as if she had found a breath in the chaos she once inhabited.

Bruce felt as if the world had stopped. There was no horror in his gaze, only an emptiness where anger and sadness collided. "What have you done?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, but resignation permeated every word. The life of his daughter, the decisions he had made and what that meant now overwhelmed him.

Damian shrugged. "She was a monster, just like all of us. What matters is that now you have something tangible, something you can show."

"What kind of family are we?" Bruce let slip, feeling defeated. "This family is a failure."

"Oh, so it turns out we’ve been a family all this time?" Damian replied, scornful, but his tone was less certain.

Bruce closed his eyes, feeling the discomfort of the situation. "Take me to the apartment where she lived," he said, his voice enigmatic and cold. It was a request that resonated with the gravity of what he had lost, an echo of what he had failed to protect. As Damian looked at him with surprise and a hint of concern, Bruce knew that the truth he would face in that place was beyond any form of redemption. The darkness that had invaded his life was about to be confronted, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for what he would find.

As Bruce and Damian prepared to leave, Titus and Alfred the Cat watched them from a distance. The dog remained alert, his ears perked, as if he could sense the tension looming in the air. His instinct told him that something grave was about to happen. Alfred, with his wise and sharp gaze, seemed to share the same unease, his eyes fixed on the men who were heading toward the dark fate they had chosen.

As Bruce and Damian headed for the door, Titus stepped forward, his expression a mix of concern and determination. It was as if he were trying to convey a silent message, a call to reason that his owners could not hear amid their emotional turmoil. Alfred the Cat, with his elegant stride, approached Bruce and rubbed his head against his leg, seeking comfort for the hero who seemed on the brink of losing himself even further in the darkness.

Turning around, Bruce felt a pang in his heart. He looked at his animals, those innocent beings who had always been there to offer him companionship, and realized that they were aware of what was about to come. In a world where violence and betrayal lurked around every corner, their departure was the beginning of something much darker.

With one last look, Bruce found himself in Titus's eyes, reflecting a mix of loyalty and worry. It was as if the dog knew that the decision they were making would not only affect them but would also drag others into a chaos from which they could not escape.

Damian, impatient, had already crossed the threshold, but Bruce paused for one more moment. "I’m sorry," he murmured, although he was not sure to whom he was really addressing: whether to the animals who looked at him with eyes full of wisdom or to himself for the path he had chosen.

However, it was already too late to turn back. With one last glance at the room where it all began, and at the animals who looked at him with concern, Bruce stepped into the dark world that awaited them, unaware that soon, everything would get worse. The air was charged with ominous anticipation, and the feeling that tragedy loomed over them like a shadow, deep and inevitable.

You lay on the bed, your body still heavy from the forced encounter, thoughts fluttering in your mind like butterflies trapped in a net. The room was enveloped in an unsettling gloom, the air thick with a tension that could not be ignored. Beside you, he breathed with a calm that contrasted with the whirlwind inside you. There was no name, no face to remember; it was just him, the one who had kidnapped you and made you his own, a figure who had taken your life and distorted it at will.

As you stared at the ceiling, the silence became a mirror of your thoughts. Rage and hatred toward your family surged within you, feelings that had once seemed so distant. They didn’t understand you, they hadn’t been there to protect you, and now, in this strange intimacy, you found yourself wishing to be with him more than with them. Confusion engulfed you; on one hand, there was a part of you longing for affection and acceptance, while on the other, there was a strange pleasure in the situation, a desire to escape the life that had caused you so much suffering.

Despite everything, you missed your mother. Her laughter, her hugs, the way she always knew how to calm your fears. But that maternal figure was slowly fading from your memory, drowned by the anguish of betrayal and loneliness. You found yourself trapped between the desire to remember the good and the hatred toward the past that had brought you here.

As the room remained silent, a dark and almost self-destructive impulse took hold of you. With trembling movements, you picked up a sharp object and pressed it against your skin, feeling a sting that was both physical and emotional. In that moment, you thought about the irony of your situation: you had lost control of your life, and in seeking an escape, you chose to hurt yourself.

The duality of your feelings was heartbreaking. On one hand, you yearned for freedom, to reclaim your identity and the love that had been taken from you. On the other, there was a part of you that felt alive in this new relationship, a twisted connection that kept you captive. The internal struggle manifested in every thought and every action, revealing the complexity of your situation.

You remembered moments from his life, the wounds he carried, and the pain he had faced. Had Bruce ever been so lost, so filled with sadness that he had to do the unthinkable to feel something? The idea that the man you admired could also have been vulnerable struck you like a revelation. You wondered if he had ever cried in solitude, questioning his place in the world, if he had ever felt so trapped in his own life.

As you touched your stomach, an old pain resurfaced. There, beneath the skin, was a scar, a reminder of the time Damian had hurt you with his katana, an act that had been both an attack and a cry of desperation. The brush of your fingers over the wound, although healed, still brought memories of suffering and betrayal, a deep connection intertwined with the pain you felt now. The scar was a metaphor for your life: a wound that would never fully heal, a reminder that pain is part of your existence.

Tears fell more forcefully as you thought about how your family’s decisions, rivalries, and chaos had influenced your life. Bruce, with his constant struggle against the shadows of his past, was a reflection of what you could have been: strong, determined, but also broken and lost. In that moment, you felt just like him, entangled in a cycle of suffering and confusion.

You allowed yourself to cry, feeling that perhaps in that vulnerability there was some freedom. It was a relief, an act of resistance in the midst of the oppression that surrounded you. As the outside world faded away, the pain of the scar became a reminder that, despite everything, there was still a part of you yearning to break free, wanting to escape this darkness. And amid that sadness, one thought grew stronger: perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way to find your path again.

The man let go of your cheek and, with a casual gesture, lit a cigarette, the smoke dancing in the air like shadows in the dim light of the room. His eyes, fixed on you, had a dangerous intensity. "Do you see this?" he said, exhaling the smoke slowly. "Now you are stained, like Gotham. You’ve been in the mud, and it’s your duty to clean yourself up. This is just the beginning."

He looked at you with a twisted smile, an expression that mixed amusement and dominance. "You have to understand that you can’t escape from what you are. The city is a reflection of yourself. And like Gotham, you too need to be purified." With a sudden movement, he offered you the cigarette. "Smoke. It will help you forget the tears."

You hesitated, but his eyes challenged you, a clear message that there was no room for denial. With a mix of fear and despair, you brought the cigarette to your lips, feeling its bitterness touch your tongue. "Don’t make me repeat myself," he said, his voice a cold whisper. "I want you to feel the poison, just like the city does. You are part of it now, and you must accept your role."

The pressure of his words overwhelmed you, each syllable a reminder of your distorted reality. "But why me?" you stammered, feeling desperation twisting inside you. "Why do I have to be part of this?"

"Because there is no choice," he replied with disdain. "There never was. Every day, every decision you made has led you here. Weakness is not an option. Look around you; Gotham has no place for the weak. If you want to survive, you need to get your hands dirty. And believe me, there is a lot of blood to clean up."

Your heart raced as you inhaled the smoke, the burning filling your lungs and leaving a feeling of emptiness. "What do you want from me?" you asked, feeling the power he had over you strangling you.

"I just want you to accept your new place. I want you to understand that in this world, death and destruction are inevitable. There is no redemption for the stained, but you can try to fix it… in your own way."

He trapped you in a dark cycle of thoughts, where each of his words echoed in your mind like a terrifying echo. You knew he was playing with you, manipulating your emotions. "If you don’t clean yourself, you will suffer the consequences. And if you cry for her again, I promise you will pay for it," he said, tightening his grip on your arm.

As the smoke dissipated into the air, the feeling of being trapped became more palpable. You found yourself between acceptance and internal struggle, but deep down, you knew you had to find a way out. However, the darkness around you grew more intense, and each of his words was another chain binding you to this fate you had not chosen.

The air thickened as he exhaled smoke, the room filling with a gray fog that seemed to reflect the chaos in your mind. He looked at you with an intensity that overflowed with obsession, a strange mix of affection and dominance that enveloped you. Despite the tears running down your face, you felt no sadness or fear. You had passed the stage of terror; now you felt strangely alive, almost liberated in your pain.

"My dear," he said in a soft yet authoritative voice, "you must not see this as a punishment. It is a purification. Gotham needs someone who understands its pain, and you are the chosen one." He leaned closer to you, his hot breath on your skin. "You are like a spark in this darkness, and together we can illuminate it. You just have to let the poison flow through you. With each tear, you are cleansing the city."

As he held you, the contact between the two of you was electric, and a part of you began to understand his madness, the way he had woven his dreams of greatness and purification through your own desires for belonging. "Did you know my mother was in Arkham?" he continued, as if sharing a special secret. "She was stained too. In her mind, she fought demons that no one else could see, just like you now. And look where she ended up: trapped in her own memories, in her own shadows."

The revelation hit you. A fragment of pain resurfaced, intertwining with the new knowledge. "What… what happened to her?" you asked, your voice trembling. It wasn’t sadness you felt; it was curiosity to know that story that had remained hidden.

"She got lost in the darkness of Gotham, just like everyone else," he said with contempt. "But that doesn’t have to be your destiny. You are stronger. My mother let herself be consumed by her madness, but you… you can take control. Let me guide you."

You fell silent, contemplating his words. The tears continued to fall, but now they were just a part of you, a manifestation of the internal struggle. You knew you were trapped in a dangerous game, but there was something in his promise of power and control that began to seduce you.

"So cry if you need to," he said, caressing your cheek with a touch that was both gentle and threatening. "But don’t let those tears weaken you. Every time you feel the urge to cry for her, remember what you are. Remember that the city needs someone like you to cleanse it of the filth."

"How can I do that?" you asked, feeling the echo of his words resonate in your mind. "How can I clean something so deeply rooted in darkness?"

"With determination," he answered firmly, his eyes shining with a mix of fervor and madness. "You must learn to see the beauty in chaos. There is power in pain. With every action you take, with every decision you make, you will be purifying Gotham of its own decay. And I will be by your side, guiding you. Together, we will be unstoppable."

As you absorbed his words, a strange sense of purpose began to take shape within you. Although his love was perverse, there was something in his vision that resonated with you, as if you were destined to fulfill that role. As the smoke from the cigarette faded into the air, so too did your fears, leaving only a cold and clear determination: you were going to take control of your destiny, even if it meant losing yourself in the process.

"No! I don’t want you to go!" shouted little Y/n, clinging to her mother's handbag with the desperation of someone who knows something important is about to slip away.

Her mother, a blonde woman with a tired gaze, let out a sigh of impatience. Y/n couldn't quite remember her face, but she knew it hardened at the tug on her bag, and without thinking, she pushed the girl, causing her to fall to the ground with a dull thud. Y/n looked up from below, her big eyes reflecting a mix of fear and pain.

"Stop being silly, Y/n," her mother murmured, struggling to hide the tremor in her voice. She leaned down, trying to smile, but the coldness in her eyes betrayed her. "You know I have to do this... for both of us. Everything I do is for you, even if you don’t understand it now."

The girl nodded slowly, but inside, she felt the truth—that repeated phrase was just a curtain. She knew there was something broken in her mother, something she was too young to fully comprehend but sensed in every harsh gesture, in every bitter word that hung in the air. Something that made her feel alone, even when they were together.

Her mother straightened up, adjusting the bag as if it weighed tons. She raised a hand in a mechanical farewell, and without another word, she left through the door without looking back.

Days passed in a haze of silence and dry tears. Y/n had no idea how much time had passed since her mother left, leaving the echo of her footsteps as the only reminder of her presence. Hugging herself, she spent the nights waiting for some familiar sound that never came.

When she finally opened her eyes, she realized her surroundings had completely changed. She was no longer at home; she was sitting in a cold, unfamiliar room, with gray walls and flickering lights dimly overhead. In the distance, she could hear whispering voices.

"How is it possible that someone left such a small child alone?" It was the firm, serious voice of a man. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she distinguished a police badge on the man's uniform. It read Commissioner Gordon.

Next to him, a red-haired woman spoke in a low voice. "Dad, you can't be sure. Maybe it was just a lie. You know how her mother was: a history of psychiatric hospitals and drugs at home. How do we know she didn't make up the story about Wayne?"

"Barbara, we have evidence that doesn't lie," Gordon replied coldly, his tone tinged with disdain. "We know the paternity test is real."

The girl felt the world sway around her. She listened to every word and felt each comment like a dagger sinking deeper into her chest. Those adults, figures of authority and trust, spoke of her mother as if she were little more than a mistake, something despicable that had left scars on her life. Sitting there, hidden behind a wall and hugging her knees, tears returned to her eyes, a mix of sadness and a terrifying understanding of what it meant to be alone in the world.

"Do you really think someone like that should have had a child in her care?" Barbara said from her wheelchair, her tone full of contempt. "She was probably just looking for easy money, manipulating everyone she could."

Commissioner Gordon frowned, clearly uncomfortable. "Barbara, that's not fair! Even if she didn’t lead the best life, she was still a citizen like anyone else, and she had the right to rebuild her life. No one is perfect."

From her corner, Y/n tried to cover her ears, but Barbara's words were impossible to ignore.

"I can't believe it, Dad. How could anyone in their right mind have left a child in the hands of that woman?" Barbara said with a cold, almost poisoned voice. "Someone who clearly had drug addiction problems and who was in and out of psychiatric hospitals. I bet she didn’t even know who the real father was."

Each word made Y/n's chest tighten even more. Her mind screamed silently: Stop! Please stop saying that about her! Her small hands trembled as she remembered the moments she had spent with her mother. Her mother, who although had those dark days and her brusque manner, had fed her, tucked her in, and cared for her as best as she could. Despite her mistakes, she had been her mother, and that was all Y/n could understand.

But Barbara’s words kept filling the room, like a storm of resentment. "I don't know how Bruce can even be involved in something like this. That woman was a burden to everyone. I can't imagine anyone worse as a mother."

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to block it out. It's not true. She’s not bad. She took care of me. We didn’t have much, but she always tried to be there for me. But no matter how hard her thoughts tried to silence the pain, Barbara's words left deep scars, increasingly difficult to heal.

As Y/n remained there, her tears already dry, her thoughts twisted in her mind like threatening shadows. She heard the echoes of Barbara's cruel words and Gordon's, and a silent resentment grew in her chest, almost like a slow poison. She tried to remember the good moments with her mother, but the dark thoughts seemed to drown them out. She was good, she was good... No, you can't say that about her... But those same thoughts tangled with hate and confusion, and the pain grew stronger.

Suddenly, everything turned white. The walls, the voices, the cold metal chair beneath her legs... everything disappeared into a blinding void that enveloped every corner of her mind. And then, there was only her, standing in that white abyss, with a strange weight on her shoulders and in her hands.

She looked down and saw a white armor, shining as if made of shards of moon and shadow. It covered her body completely, with firm, polished plates that fit like a second skin, protecting every part of her. The gauntlets were solid, with sharp and detailed edges, and in her hands, she wielded two katanas whose blades reflected that void like deadly mirrors.

The design of the armor was imposing and terrifying. The helmet resembled a bat, with long pointed ears extending upward, and a dark V-shaped visor that barely revealed her eyes. The lines that ran across her chest and arms formed the silhouette of folded wings, as if that bat awaited to unfold at any moment. The chest was engraved with fine black details, resembling veins radiating dark power. In the center, a small emblem in the shape of a black teardrop contrasted with the radiant white of the armor, like a mark of pain and sacrifice.

In the dim light of the void where she stood, Y/n felt the weight of the katanas in her hands as if they were extensions of her own being. In that moment, the white armor fit her like a comforting embrace, a reminder of the power she now possessed. She looked at herself in a non-existent reflection, feeling that every part of her being was ready to act, to reclaim what she had lost.

With a tremor of emotion and a palpable obsession, she held them to her chest, hugging them tightly. Words flowed from her lips, laden with a burning, almost manic desire: "Soon you will be mine... I will go home. I will be my little girl again."

The echo of her voice resonated in the white void, vibrating with the intensity of her longing. In her mind, an image formed of a home, a place where shadows no longer lurked and where her mother, though imperfect, would be able to embrace her once more. The idea of being together again, of transforming her pain into power, filled her with a fierce determination.

"I will come back for you," she whispered, her voice choked with a mix of tears and a crazed smile. "Nothing will stop me. I promise." The choked laughter turned into a murmur of echoes, resonating in the abyss like a sinister promise, as the world around her began to fade again, leaving her alone with her obsession and her new identity.

In the silence, whispers began to rise, soft at first, but increasingly insistent. One word repeated, muted yet burning, like a spark in the shadows.

The word reverberated in the void, growing more intense, like a kind of dark mantra. And when Y/n could barely bear the weight of those voices, one final phrase emerged, chilling and final:

"Death is the ultimate prize."

You walked through the halls of the old apartment block, your white armor shining in the dim light, like a bat defying the embrace of the night. The echoes of your heels resonated, a dark song reverberating in the solitude of the worn walls.

Your figure, sculpted in gleaming metal, was a silhouette of elegance and mystery, as you hummed a forgotten melody, slipping between the shadows like a whisper of the forbidden. Each step was a heartbeat in the silence, a chilling reminder that there is still life in abandonment.

The portraits on the walls watched you, empty eyes that seemed to come alive, as you moved with the grace of a specter, a macabre dance of light and shadow at dusk.

The doors, worn and creaking, whispered secrets of past stories, and you, guardian of those forgotten tales, advanced fearlessly, seeking what was left behind.

You were an enigma, a reflection of the lost, a shadow walking, dressed in white, in a world clinging to its demons, where the past and present intertwine in a lethal embrace, and the night waits, eager for your return.

You paused before the door of one of the apartments, its frayed wood opening like an abyss, a dark invitation that defied logic. The silence became thick, almost palpable, and the echo of your humming faded, leaving a void that swallowed the darkness.

The threshold awaited you, a portal to the unknown, and a cold breeze, laden with whispers, caressed your skin like a lost lover. Inside, the shadows seemed to come alive, a palace of echoes and laments, where time had woven a web.

Your heart raced, a mix of adrenaline and challenge, as you gently pushed the door. It creaked in protest, like an old ghost, and when it opened, revealed an abandoned world, furniture covered in dust, with withered memories.

The remnants of a past life crowded every corner, and a scent of decay floated in the air, but something more, a glimpse of presence, urged you to enter, to explore the hidden. You peered in, and the dimness embraced you, as if the apartment claimed you as its own.

Each step on the creaky floor was an act of daring, and the walls seemed to murmur forgotten secrets, stories of betrayed loves and lost souls. In the center of the room, a dark, diffuse, and shadowy figure formed among the shadows, like an echo of your own existence, a reflection of what could have been.

You stood still, breath held in the abyss of the moment, the half-open door, a threshold to your destiny, and the silence, now laden with promises, stripped you of fears, leaving only the certainty that in that space, you faced the echoes of your own darkness.

As you advanced, your eyes fixed on a dusty, worn wooden box resting on the small dining table. Something about it drew you in, as if it held a dark secret. You approached and, with trembling hands, opened it. Inside, horror was revealed: the head of Poison Ivy, the green hair still vibrant, a gaze frozen in time. You didn’t cry, but a slight tremor coursed through your body, a mixture of surprise and disdain for the brutality that had taken place in that space.

"Normally you enter through the window," you murmur to the air, with an ironic smile on your lips, as if addressing a presence you hoped would appear.

And then, as if the night itself had responded to your call, Batman emerged from the shadows, his dark figure silhouetted against the dim light coming through the window. The air became tense in an instant.

"Who are you?" he asked, his grave voice resonating with a mix of distrust and anger. "What are you doing in the apartment of Bruce Wayne's daughter?"

You laughed, a laugh that echoed in the empty room, filled with irony and knowledge.

"His daughter?" you mocked, your eyes shining with a mix of challenge and amusement. "So Y/n is your daughter. Isn’t it curious how things intertwine in this city?"

The silence grew heavy, and you felt his gaze intensify, evaluating every word you had spoken. He knew you had crossed a line, but the revelation had ignited a spark of playfulness in you.

"How do you know who I am?" The question slipped from his lips, but there was no fear, just an unsettling curiosity.

"Gotham has its secrets, Bruce. And I, like you, am part of this darkness. The identity of a hero or heroine is just a game of shadows, and in this game, you and I know how to move between the lines."

You stood firm, the tension between you palpable, as the echo of laughter still resonated in the air. Batman's figure, always imposing and enigmatic, seemed to waver at the revelation that in this dark labyrinth, he was not the only player.

The tension intensified, and Batman took a step forward, approaching you with an intense gaze.

"How do you know about my daughter?" he inquired, his voice brusque, each word laden with frustration. You remained firm, crossing your arms, letting the silence settle between you.

"Oh, Gotham speaks, even in whispers. The city has a way of revealing what heroes prefer to hide," you replied disdainfully. "Your life, your secrets, are more exposed than you think." He frowned, anger crackling in his eyes.

"What do you know about Y/N?" he demanded, his voice low and threatening, as if waiting for you to throw down a challenge.

"I know you didn't want her. That you left her in the shadows while you dedicated yourself to your personal crusade," you replied, irony dancing in your tone. "That girl grew up without a father, and you, the great hero of Gotham, preferred to be a myth."

Rage etched itself on his face, but there was something more, a hidden pain surfacing behind the armor of his anger.

"It's not that simple, and you have no idea what I've done for her," he retorted, his voice tense, each word like a blow.

"Really?" you asked, flashing a mocking smile. "What have you done? Cut off her partner's head, the only person I love, just to extract invalid information? What a great father."

An uncomfortable silence settled between you, as the air vibrated with unspoken emotions.

"You are not one to judge me," he declared, his voice tense. "You know nothing of what I've sacrificed."

"Maybe not, but I know enough about the void you've left," you replied, undeterred. "And I know Ivy was there for her. You, the hero, vanished while others took on the role of father."

The anger shone in his eyes, but there was also a spark of recognition. He observed you, assessing the courage that led you to challenge him.

"And who are you to come and point fingers? A lost anti-heroine in her own struggle?" he shot back, his voice laden with contempt.

"I am what Gotham needs," you replied, confident. "A reminder that even heroes like you can fail."

The discussion turned into a power struggle, both of you clinging to your truths, while Poison Ivy's head remained a sinister reminder of the choices you both had made.

Suddenly, Batman's fury exploded like lightning in the darkness. Without warning, he seized you by the neck, lifting you with surprising strength. The air became scarce, and the pressure on your throat made you feel vulnerable, although the mockery never left your expression.

"Where is Y/N?" he demanded, his voice charged with rage and desperation. The shadows moved around him, intensifying his figure, which seemed more monster than hero at that moment.

Despite the iron grip, you kept your gaze fixed on him, challenging him, feeling the adrenaline pulse through your veins.

"Are you that worried about her whereabouts?" you replied, a mocking smile barely hiding your disdain. "Maybe she's hanging from a hook in a slaughterhouse, who knows? That would be an ironic twist for a girl who grew up in the shadow of a hero, don’t you think?"

His eyes narrowed, anger and helplessness battling within him. You leaned in closer, feeling the pressure on your neck, but that only fueled your defiance.

"Don't laugh about this!" he roared, tightening his grip slightly. The fury in his voice was palpable, but something deeper kept him on edge.

"Me? Laughing? You, the great Batman, scared for your daughter's life?" you shot back, never breaking eye contact.

The tension was becoming unbearable, but there was something fascinating about the game you were playing. He was caught between rage and fear, and you, in your shadowy game, fed off his anguish.

"Do you know something? You're losing yourself in your own legend," you continued, while he held you in the air. "I'm sure you once dreamed that she would have died in that alley with her mother."

In that instant, something in his expression changed. The anger slowly faded, giving way to a deep concern, though he still held you firmly.

"I warn you," he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours. "If you lie to me, I won't show mercy."

You laughed again, though the risk was imminent, as your heart raced.

"And what will you do?" you challenged, your voice trembling but resolute. "Threaten me with your dark past? I'm here because I know the truth, and I do not fear your shadows."

Bruce's patience evaporated like smoke in the heavy air of that apartment. With a sudden movement, he hurled you towards the table, the impact resonating with a crash that reverberated through the walls. Your katanas slipped to the floor, leaving you defenseless. The furniture creaked under your weight, but adrenaline kept you alert, your instincts sharp.

You quickly rose, shaking your head to clear the confusion, while the anger on his face transformed into determination.

"I don't have time for your games, Kerosene," he shouted, stepping forward, ready to fight. "If you know Y/N, tell me!"

You steadied yourself, smiling defiantly as you positioned yourself, preparing for combat.

"Do you really think you'll throw away the only one who can help you?" you replied, feeling the pulse of challenge coursing through your veins. "I'm offering you a chance to know the truth, and you choose to fight. Very typical of you."

With a swift movement, he lunged at you, throwing a direct punch. You dodged, making an agile turn, but the atmosphere became a whirlwind of force and speed.

You charged at him, hitting him in the side, feeling how his tense muscles responded to your attack. It was not just a physical fight; it was a clash of wills, an explosion of repressed emotions.

"You’re an idiot if you think you can scare me!" you yelled at him while he tried to immobilize you. You twisted and managed to sidestep him, landing a blow to his jaw that made him stagger.

Bruce quickly regained his footing, his eyes blazing with fury. He advanced again, his movements precise and calculated, while you played with speed and agility.

"Stop!" he roared, his voice echoing in the enclosed space. "I just want to know where my daughter is."

"And I just want you to stop living in your hero fantasy," you replied, with a defiant laugh as you dodged another attack. "The truth hurts you, Bruce, and you prefer the fight over facing it."

The exchange of blows continued, the sound of fists colliding and the creaking of breaking furniture filling the air. The room became a battlefield, with the table as the central stage of your struggle.

Bruce, with a mix of skill and strength, cornered you against the wall, but instead of giving up, you seized the closeness. With an agile movement, you pushed him back, making him lose his balance.

"Are you going to keep this up? Destroying what’s left of this city?" you said, breathing heavily but not yielding. "Or are you going to listen to what’s really at stake?"

His eyes were now inches from yours, the fury and frustration of his search fueling the spark of the battle. Both of you were willing to fight, but deep down, you knew there was something deeper at play than just physical strength.

The battle continued, becoming increasingly intense and violent, like a whirlwind of unleashed fury. You launched at him, landing a blow that hit his chest, but Bruce responded with a punch that made you stagger; the force behind his blow was terrifying. The rage emanating from him was palpable, and with each attack, both of you took the struggle to a new level.

The apartment walls vibrated with the thud of bodies colliding and furniture being dragged. The sound of shattering glass echoed in the air as you crashed into a table, breaking it into pieces.

You got back up, a piece of wood in hand, and threw it at him. Bruce dodged it, but the fragment smashed against a lamp, exploding into a million shards. The light flickered before going out, plunging the place into an unsettling darkness.

Both of you moved like shadows through the chaos, and sweat and blood began to mix, the air filled with a metallic smell that only intensified the battle. Bruce landed a punch on your jaw, and you tasted blood in your mouth. You didn’t stop; with a cry of defiance, you responded with a series of rapid blows, each one stronger than the last.

You darted to his side, using your agility to hit him in the ribs. The impact made him stagger, but before you could capitalize on the opportunity, Bruce spun around and kneed you in the abdomen. The air escaped your lungs, and the sharp pain made you fall to your knees. However, you didn’t give up.

With renewed determination, you got up and threw a direct punch to his face, hearing the crack of his skin upon impact. Blood spurted from his lip, and the fact that you had hurt him only fueled his fury. With superhuman strength, he pushed you back, slamming you against a shelf, which gave way and collapsed on you. Books and personal items scattered across the floor, covering the place in even greater chaos.

But there was no time to stop. You rose amongst the debris, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. With a leap, you charged at him again, landing a blow that left a mark on his face. Rage and pain intertwined in the air, and both of you were on the brink of madness.

The room had turned into a battlefield, with blood staining the floor and walls. The apartment’s decor, once a refuge, lay in tatters, as if Gotham itself had decided to yield to the brutality of your confrontation.

Bruce, with his determined gaze locked on you, lunged at you again. Both of you were exhausted, but the fight was a necessity, an uncontrollable impulse that kept you standing. His fists and your movements were a wild dance, and amidst the chaos, both of you knew that the outcome of this battle would not only define the present but also seal your fate.

You charged at him, landing a direct blow to his stomach, and when he bent forward, you took the chance to hit him in the face once more. Blood spilled from his nose, but he countered with a knee strike, and the impact resonated in your bones.

The fight continued with increasing ferocity, the room transforming into a wreckage. Every blow exchanged resonated like thunder, but it was the moment when Bruce landed a punch to your side that made you fall to your knees again, gasping for air. The pain was intense, but there was no time to lament; rage and frustration drove him to push onward.

Seeing the opportunity, Bruce lunged at you, and with a rough movement, he lifted you off the ground, holding you by the neck and raising you into the air. You struggled, feeling the pressure increase, the air escaping your lungs. The room blurred around you as you began to lose control.

"Tell me where Y/N is!" he shouted, his voice echoing in your mind like a refrain of desperation and fury.

You were on the brink of passing out, your eyes clouding, but amidst the confusion, you managed to maintain lucidity, though it was becoming increasingly difficult. Bruce's hands were like a yoke around your throat, and the feeling of suffocation intensified with every passing second.

The pressure was unbearable, and you fought to free your neck, to breathe, but it felt like trying to break chains of steel. Your hands struck his arm, but he wouldn’t relent, becoming more focused, more desperate.

Finally, with a titanic effort, you managed to reach your helmet, and in a twist, you pushed him back, but the pressure of his grip was too much. It was then that, in a last-ditch attempt to free yourself, the helmet slipped off your head, falling to the floor with a dull thud.

The light of the apartment filtered back into your vision, and it was at that moment that Bruce, seeing your face, stopped dead in his tracks, the expression of his fury transforming into horror.

The face before him was not just an adversary; it was a reflection of his own daughter. The reality crashed against him like lightning.

"...Y/N?"

A/N ──── I WANT TO EMPHASIZE THAT YES, WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN THE DOCTOR AND Y/N IS REAL. And yes, it's necessary; you'll understand why by the end. Furthermore, Ivy's death has always been planned. In the next chapter, a female character will appear who, I warn you, will be a victim of the Waynes, and the scene will be a bit graphic and very grotesque.

I want to add that this chapter is very, very, veeeery weak because I’m very tired, not very inspired, and dealing with other things. I’ll try to do better for the next one and bring you a chapter of better quality.

And a warning for those on the taglist: if you’re already on it, please don’t ask me again and again to add your name because I end up getting confused and repeating names.

Also, there are some that I can’t add for reasons I don’t understand.

If you requested to be on the taglist before and you're not, please ask me here or send me a message; I don’t bite.

Feel free to ask me anything if you’d like.

Take a bath!

Tag list! ◇ — @amber-content @toast-on-dandelioms @feral-childs-word @sweetconnoisseurgardener @victoria1676 @toasted-cat18 @nosyrobin @beeaskewwrites @yandere-enthusiast @telltaletoad @dhanyasri @vanessa-boo @m3vl0vesu @jellypotato66 @midnightgrimoire @cherryxxxxyoongi @plsfckmedxddy @h0neysiba @mybones537 @erikasurfer @sheepintherain @pix-stuff @yan-rai @uniquecutie-puffs @arlandvery @theblonde777 @alishii

@maicenitas @ti-girl1226 @vanilliona @chickenwings435 @thedramabrotherss @bat1212 @imnotdumbimstupif @somebodyrandom-613 @aelxr @jsprien213 @lovebug-apple @zenychwan @starsdotalk @holylonelyponyeatingmacaron @misdollface @clementinesyummy @bunbunboysworld @lunaluz432 @meowmeeps @adeptusxia0 @mettatons-number-1fan @fairygardenprincesss @nervousalpacalady @mottysith

@redkarmakai @the-rouge-robin @twismare @wizzerreblogs @beeboopneep @mistfire1999 @delfinadolphin @expctron

Inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams ' work, @i-cant-sing 's work and @klemen-tine 's work, be sure to check them out!

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vamptizm · 5 days ago

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NOT A SECRET — paige bueckers

pairing : paige bueckers x wnba!fem!reader

synopsis : the bliss of winning the wnba championship causes a big slip up that exposes your relationship to the world

warnings : explicit language, alcohol, cigars and sexual innuendos (if you don’t like the new york liberty, you can replace it with your favourite team idc)

note : i haven’t checked for typos that thoroughly so… my bad

word count : 2.6k

What’s better than succeeding in life in almost every aspect? Sharing that success with someone you love and that loves you back, unconditionally and wholly. Meeting Paige Madison Bueckers had undoubtedly been one of the best things that life had blessed you with, other than your flourishing career. The two of you had met in 2019, both playing for team USA. Later on you would meet again at UConn, playing and succeeding alongside each other for the past four years. It wasn’t until barely a year ago, that the two of you decided to be brave enough to confess your love. But sadly, everything must end for a new chapter to begin, and here you were, living a two and a half hour drive from her to chase your dreams.

Luckily for you, Paige was the most dedicated and passionate girlfriend in the world, making it her mission to attend as many of your games during the playoff season as possible. Today was no different. It was her birthday, her special day, and here she was, supporting you. Hoping to celebrate you, rather than celebrating herself.

You were pacing around the open kitchen of your—extremely overprized—apartment, the nerves and anxiety eating at you like maggots, heart pounding in your throat and hands sweaty. This was by far, one of the most important games in your life so far, if not more important than the game against Iowa only six month ago.

“How about you stop walking around in circles and c’mere?” Paige spoke up from her spot on the malta-beige couch, arm slung over the back rest as her neck craned slightly to look back at you.

“I can’t, I feel like I’m about to throw up.” You spoke, your voice coming out almost like a choked whine, wiping your hands down on your sweatpants for the umpteenth time in the past hour.

You only had an hour left until you had to be ready and at the Barclays Center. Two and a half hours until the final game against the Minnesota Lynx began. You were a mess, and no one could blame you.

Sighing at your distressed state, the blonde lifted herself off of the couch, walking towards you with sympathetic eyes. She hated seeing you this way. It wasn’t the first time, and definitely wouldn’t be the last, but it never burdened her. If you needed to cling to her like a lifeline, she would be there. Every. Single. Time.

“Oh, baby. C’mere.” Her arms opened wide once she was standing a mere foot away from you, wrapping you into a hug. So tight and warm, so comforting and safe that for a moment, it felt like all your worries vanished into thin air. The only thing that mattered was the intoxicating scent and the protective warmth of your girlfriend.

You buried your face into the crook of her neck, arms wrapping around her waist as you allowed yourself to breathe—really breathe—for the first time since you had woken up. “I’m just scared. What if I mess up? What if I disappoint everyone and then I’ll be the rookie that ruined everything.” You mumble into her neck, voice slightly muffled but she understood you perfectly.

“Hey. Hey, look at me.” Paige’s voice was firm, yet it didn’t lack the tenderness and gentleness you so desperately needed. Her hands snaked up, pulling away from the hug just enough to be able to cup your face in them. “That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re on top of the league right now, if not the world. This is not going to ruin your career. It is not going to diminish everything you have achieved and you’re sure as hell not going to disappoint everyone.”

With her hands cradling your face, thumbs brushing against your cheeks and eyes looking deeply into yours, you couldn’t help but tear up. Maybe it was the stress, maybe the nerves, or maybe it was the reassurance and praise that not only her words offered, but her entire presence in that moment.

“You’re going to be great, just as you’ve always been. How many times have you felt just like this and ended up wiping the floor with everyone?”

The way she was looking down at you almost had your knees crumbling, so gentle and sincere. “You think so?” Your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper and if it had been any other situation, you would’ve cringed at yourself.

“Baby, I know so.” Paige didn’t have to say more than that. It was enough to boost your confidence from basement level, to the roof.

You didn’t say much either, choosing to bask in the moment, hands snaking up to lay over hers that were still cupping your face, looking up at her with glassy eyes and a faint smile. In that moment, it was only appropriate for you to inch closer, placing a soft and short kiss on her pillow soft lips.

A smile crept up on the blonde as you pulled back again, “So… How about ‘pre-game good luck’ head?”

“Well… Wait, No! I’m still in distress.”

The arena buzzed with a low hum of anticipation as you stood at the edge of the court, taking in the packed stands, the flashing lights, and the sea of Liberty blue and green. Your heart was pounding—though you'd had nerves all day, they'd sharpened now that the moment was upon you . You scanned the crowd, gaze catching Paige's in her seat near the front. Paige's steadying smile softened the sharp edges of Your anxiety, and you exhaled, focus narrowing. This was it. The moment you had been working your ass of for. It was now or never.

As the whistle blew, your nerves dissolved like mist, replaced by the razor focus of competition. Everything outside the court vanished, your only objective now to take down the Lynx and bring home a win for the team. But as the first quarter unfolded, it became clear this game wouldn't go as planned. Your team struggled to find their rhythm, their usual crisp passes and quick plays seeming off. Shots were bouncing off the rim, free throws missed their mark, and the Lynx defense was ruthless. Every time you managed to drive toward the basket, you felt hands clawing at your arms, hips bumping you hard off course. You fought to keep your form steady, but even your own three-pointers—normally a guaranteed lifeline—fell just short. Beside you, Sabrina was playing through visible pain, her movements cautious, hindered by her UCL injury.

Paige's chest tightened with each missed shot and lost point, her eyes tracking your every move. She could see your frustration mounting, shoulders tensing after every failed attempt, and every bit of her wanted to rush down there, to shield you from the weight of this game. Tell you that she believed in you more than anything.

By halftime, the Liberty had fallen behind by nearly double digits. You felt your stomach knot and churn as you walked back down the tunnel toward the locker room, breath shaky, mind racing over every failed shot, every error. Before you knew it, hot tears were spilling down your cheeks, stinging with the shame of coming up short. You barely noticed the footsteps trailing you until you heard Paige's voice calling out her name, a beacon of comfort piercing her distress.

You slowed and turned, and there was your girlfriend, just outside the locker room door, her eyes brimming with concern. A teasing voice broke the tension—Stewie, giving you a gentle nudge on the shoulder. "Hey, save some of those tears for the win, rook. You're not out of this yet."

Despite yourself, you let out a shaky laugh, and then you were in Paige's arms, face buried against her shoulder. You clung to her, breathing in the familiar scent and drawing strength from your girlfriend's embrace. "I'm playing like shit right now," you mumbled, voice thick with disappointment.

She tilted your chin up, meeting your eyes with steady determination. "Hey, look at me. You've been through worse than this. Most of these people today are here to watch you. You're gonna go back out there and you're gonna play your game. I know you. You're not done." Her words wrapped around you like armor, steadying your nerves. With a last kiss on the cheek, Paige whispered, "Go show them who you are, Ma."

Buoyed by the reassurance, you returned to the court for the second half with renewed fire only ten minutes later. Your team began to close the gap, each player digging deep as they fought to find their rhythm. Your shots began to connect, and your movements were sharper, cleaner, feeding off your team's newfound energy. You could feel Paige's eyes on you from the stands, grounding you with every step.

By the time the game went into overtime, your team had clawed their way to a slim four-point lead, the clock ticking down the final seconds. With a fierce determination, you seized her moment—gripping the ball just past half-court, you made the reckless decision in a split second. You set your stance and launched a deep three-pointer, watching as the ball arched high into the air. The arena fell silent, everyone holding their breath as it spun toward the basket.

And then—swish. The ball dropped cleanly through the net, and the crowd erupted, an unstoppable wave of sound crashing over the court. Your teammates surged around you, pulling you into hugs and shouting in joy, their faces bright with triumph. You felt the overwhelming relief, the weight of victory sinking in as tears of happiness filled your eyes.

Amid the chaos, your gaze instinctively searched for Paige, who was already standing by her seat, pride radiating from her. Without thinking, you ran toward her, your heart full to bursting. When you reached Paige, your threw your arms around her, catching her in a fierce embrace. Before either of you registered what you were doing, you pressed a kiss to Paige's lips, the world melting away in that single moment. You were on cloud nine and nothing could bring you down, anytime soon.

Paige held you close, tears shimmering in her own eyes as she whispered, "I'm so proud of you, Baby. You fucking did it."

And for the first time in a long time, you felt the weight of every struggle, every doubt, lifted, replaced by the solid warmth of love, victory, and the freedom to embrace who you truly were.

But then it dawned on you. The sudden realization of what you had just done and your face dropped, heart pounding impossibly faster in your throat all while Paige continued to hold you close. "Oh my god... Oh. My. God." You could barely manage to find the words, the guilt of what you had just done so impulsively hitting you like a wave and throwing you off that thrown you had been sitting on just a mere minute ago.

"I'm so sorry. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck... Oh god, I fucked up. The whole world just saw that, what do we do?" It was clear as day that you were panicking, the fear of disappointing your girlfriend eating away at you.

Paige however, didn't seem to have lost that smile on her face, her bright eyes almost blinding with the sparkle that shimmered in them, all while gazing at you. "I don't care. We've talked about this before, I want the world to know."

"Really?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, not trusting yourself to keep it from cracking in that moment.

"Yes, really. I would be fucking insane if I had anything against the world knowing that I'm not only dating the most wonderful person alive, but also a champion."

Your frown quickly turned upside down into a small smile, heart searing with love and pride. Not only were you a winner tonight, but with her on your side, you'd be a winner for the rest of your life.

"Now go and celebrate, you deserve it." The blonde began to release you from her grip, a soft grin playing on her lips.

"Come with me." You suggested instantly, not wanting to be apart from her for even just a second, if you didn't have to. "I wanna show off my prettier trophy on her birthday."

Paige's grin melted into a smirk, the sparkle in her blue eyes suddenly clouded and you had to make sure that your own eyes weren't playing tricks on you. "Your trophy, huh? Oh, I'm gonna fuck you so good when we get back home, champ."

Back in the locker room, the team was in full championship mode. As you and Paige stepped in, you were instantly drenched with a spray of ice-cold champagne, your teammates laughing and cheering as they each took turns celebrating. The room was filled with a mix of joyous shouts, laughter, and the sticky-sweet smell of champagne spilling from bottles held high. You could feel the bubbles fizzing on your skin, jersey soaked through, but none of that mattered—this was the taste of victory, and you drank it in like the best moment of your life.

Stewie grinned, grabbing a cigar and offering it to you with a proud nod. “Here you go, rook. You’ve earned it.”

You took it with a chuckle, feeling the weight of the cigar in your hand as you looked around at your ecstatic teammates. You didn’t smoke often, but right now, it felt like the perfect way to mark the moment. As you lit up, you took a slow draw and exhaled, watching the smoke curl into the air, feeling an odd thrill in the movement. Around you, your teammates roared in laughter and cheered you on, playfully tousling your hair and congratulating you as you relaxed further into the moment.

Paige stood slightly apart from the chaos, watching you with an expression of open admiration. Paige’s gaze lingered on you, catching every spark of joy in your eyes, every smile, and every bit of laughter that spilled from your lips. She let herself soak in the sight, wanting to imprint it on her memory—this perfect image of you, triumphant and glowing, a little champagne-drunk and flushed from the celebration. She didn’t care about the sticky residue of the champagne on her own skin or the faint smell of smoke in the air; all she could focus on was you, looking impossibly beautiful.

As you took another drag, exhaling the smoke with an air of confidence that was as charming as it was unfamiliar, Paige’s heart skipped a beat. There was something about the way you held herself tonight, bold and carefree, that sent a shiver down Paige’s spine.

You caught Paige’s eyes and, with a giggle, took a playful step toward her, the effects of the champagne clear in your soft, relaxed gaze. “Are you okay over there?” you teased, tilting your head with a grin, clearly catching on to Paige’s stare.

Paige’s lips curled into a smirk, her voice low as she leaned in, brushing a hand along your arm. “Oh, I’m doing great,” she murmured, her tone filled with a hint of mischief. “Just… can’t wait to get you home.”

Your eyes sparkled with a playful challenge as you smirked right back, the faint scent of champagne and cigar smoke hanging in the air between them. “I’m all yours in an hour or so,” you whispered, leaning in close enough that only Paige could hear.

“Longest hour of my life,” Paige replied, her voice barely above a breath, her eyes gleaming with anticipation as they lingered on your smile.

The locker room buzzed around you, but in that moment, you both were in your own world, two people tangled in a look filled with promises for later, ready to savor every bit of this win—together.

#⇢ ˗ˏˋ vamptizm writes ࿐ྂ #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #wnba #uconn huskies

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nymphea0 · 4 months ago

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Until Death My love

Part 2.

Yandere husband x Wife Reader

Very long story, might be bad grammar or language in this story, so please correct me if theres any bad word or bad grammar. This story will came out with 4 chapter , so stay always love🦋🦋

word count around : 2000 words

Story Part 1 : Until Death My love

Story Part 3 : Until Death My Love

The sound of many vehicles and street lights were the only things that decorated the darkness of the night' You don't know how it could end like this, there are so many moments that you have gone through with Alex, your beloved husband.

It shouldn't be like this, but it happened so fast.

That night as usual, you became an obedient and very good wife waiting for your husband to come home from work, you prepared dinner that you cooked yourself, even though the servants really wanted to help you cook, that night you were very stubborn and made several dishes such as shrimp pasta alfredo, and roast chicken.

You waited as usual in the dining room, like the nights you had gone through before. But that night, Alex came home early in the morning, your husband came home a little later than usual.

You looked at the street with a sad face and remembered what had happened to you before, that day you learned another secret from your husband, alexandrovic Reigent.

You learned that Alex was the leader of the mafia association, the same association, that destroyed the place where you worked as a staff of a famous restaurant. You think that Alex is an ordinary man that you dated during school, you spent your days so happily with Alex, then you graduated from school and continued to college, you and Alex even studied in the same place with different majors.

Then you graduated with mediocre grades, until Alex said he wanted to build a business in the mining sector.

At first you didn't think that Alex's business would be very successful, but you were very happy with the success of Alex's business. Until one day Alex proposed to you to be his wife, right when it was your birthday.

That day you felt like the happiest woman in the world. .

'Date 05 01 19xx'

That was the day Alex went on his business trip as a CEO of a company that handles coal affairs. Like a normal day you prepared your husband's clothes, helped him put on his shirt.

"Alex how long will you be away on business?"

"Love ...I won't be gone for long, just 5 days .... hmmm? Do you miss me already?"

Your husband, Alex, coquettishly pouted at you who was busy tidying up his work needs.

"No, I don't miss you."

In a playful tone you answered Alex who seemed ready to tickle you.

That morning was filled with laughter and happiness flowing in the residence you shared with Alex. .

That afternoon was very boring without Alex, your husband for the next 5 days, at that time you for some reason really wanted to clean the room where Alex worked.

Alex's work room. As usual the servants at home really didn't want you to work, they looked as if they were afraid of something wrong with you.

Until you forced them and they had no other choice but to let you do what you wanted, well who would dare try to stop the wife of the Reigent house?.

Carrying a broom and cleaning equipment, you opened the door to Alex's work room, the room had a luxurious impression as Alex's job as a CEO of a coal company.

A room polished with African black wood, walls that are added with furniture such as classic lamps, lots of bookshelves and a document shelf.

A small pantry table that provides coffee and tea editing tools when Alex wants to drink something.

A polished work desk with additional high-quality marble with additional computers and also some documents scattered on the desk.

In short, this room is very comfortable and has a distinctive Alex smell, a blend of mint and a little musk aroma.

At first you tidy up and clean the desk where Alex works. Until you clean the bookshelf where Alex keeps books containing world history.

You clean the bookshelf carefully, rearranging the books. Each bookshelf is given a little space between 1 bookshelf and another, with the placement of a flower pot and also a classic lamp on the wall as a divider between shelves 1 and the others.

But when you were about to go to another shelf that you were going to clean next, your feet accidentally slipped between the black carpet that was the base of the shelf, with human instinct you held onto anything so that you wouldn't fall or get hurt, expert at holding bookshelves, you actually held onto the handle of a classic lamp that was quite low and you could reach.

With strong pressure you held the lamp, unfortunately when you thought it wouldn't fall, the chandelier was actually pulled down as you were going to fall, and you ended up falling with the wooden lamp that looked bent downwards.

After standing up and getting rid of the pain from the fall, you tried to fix the lamp to its original position.

But before you could even fix the poor lamp, you realized that the bookshelf you had previously cleaned was slightly tilted from the wall and showed a small gap, out of curiosity you tried to pull the bookshelf.

And there you see a small room with an area and size of 2 footsteps, the room is empty with 3 walls covered in black wallpaper and only lit by 1 lamp on the wall, on the floor there is a round carpet the same color as the walls in the room.

You think, what is this narrow room built for?, with slow steps you enter the room, trying to feel the walls but nothing happens. At that time when you think maybe this small room was built to store Alex's useless files.

When you was about to get out of the small room, my feet accidentally tripped over a lump protruding from the black carpet. Get up slowly and stand up, you try to push the carpet out of the room.

At that time, instead of the floor you saw, you saw a wooden door that was attached to the floor. Looking around, you exit the room and walk slowly towards Alex's study door, then with one turn, you lock Alex's study from the inside and walk back into the room.

Making up your mind, you open the wooden door, it's a little hard to open, but finally the door opens and reveals a staircase leading down, you don't see anything, it's very dark down there.

A dark basement!

When you look around the bottom of the stairs, you see a small light switch that is integrated into the wall right on the first step.

With a 'Click' a light shines under the room, holding a broom, you go down the stairs. Every step you take on the stairs creates a very unpleasant sound to hear.

Until the last step, you can clearly see this basement.

This room is very classic but looks luxurious. There are leather sofas lined up around a glass table, there is a bar table and also a billiard table, there is a television with a wide and thin screen and is very luxurious which is displayed facing the leather sofa.

Slowly you look around and realize that there are many shelves for storing wine bottles and other liquor, you always knew that Alex really liked alcohol beyond your expectations, but you didn't know that this room even existed in this house.

The house where you and Alex live, a 3-story house, with a very large front and back yard, equipped with flower gardens and also a small lake that flows behind your house.

During the 2 years of your marriage with Alex, you didn't know that this room existed.

Walking through this basement, you see about 3 gold and black framed picture displayed on the wall, approaching the picture.

The first picture , is a picture of you and Alex who have just finished their wedding, in the picture you are very beautiful and beautiful, sitting smiling happily while holding a bouquet of flowers, while Alex stands behind you while holding your left shoulder, Alex is wearing a black shirt combined with a collar decoration and also a gold hanger on his jacket pocket which is united with roses.

Under the picture is your name and Alex's name and the date you got married.

Picture of alex and his family wearing all black suits, you don't know much about alex's family.

But when you married alex, only his mother and father came, you don't know why his other family didn't come, alex only told you that his other family was anti-social, and after that you didn't ask much.

On the wedding day, his father and mother didn't talk to you, but you only got a soft smile from his mother and a cold stare from his father.

In the picture there are so many people you don't know, they all sit in rows on the benches, but there's something strange, there are several women sitting on their knees below among several men you don't know. Then you see alex and his mother and father sitting in the right row that doesn't blend with the middle row, there you can see alex with an unfriendly and expressionless face, a facial expression that you didn't even know alex could make.

Under the frame, there is a bold text that contains.

'ARCEINT REIGENT FAMILY'

You don't think much and just guess that Arceint is Alex's extended family name.

Then, the last frame is a picture of Alex and his parents, and 4 people you don't know, they each sit on a bench, while the 4 people you don't know, 2 of them are men and they sit on a bench, but the other 2 are women, and they kneel beside the seats of the 2 men.

Blinking slowly, under the frame contains the name Alexandrovic Reigent Arceint, followed by Alex's father, Rovalnov Reigent Arceint, then Alex's mother, Ilvanna Rosye.

And the names of the 2 men whose names you are not sure which one is correct are Xirent Reigent Arceint, then the other one is William Reigent Arceint.

You can only guess that maybe these 2 people are Alex's older or younger siblings. Since dating and getting married, Alex has been very secretive about his family.

Looking at the other names there are 2 other names written there, you guess it is the name of 2 women who are sitting on their knees side by side.

The names there are written as, Lilya Ergevan, and also Belleriya Woods.

You think that why their names seem so beautiful and elegant?

Looking around the room again, you think to continue cleaning up Alex's work room that was delayed and only conclude that this basement room could be a room where Alex relaxes when he misses his family.

Just as you are about to step on a step, your eyes accidentally catch a corner of the room that is quite dark, and there is a white door in the corner.

People used to say, curiosity can be your death, so be careful.

*Source image : Pinterest

©️Nymphea0 2024 , OG story . Project Dark Romance Story 1.

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions , Always be good people Dear. Much love , Neva🦋🦋.

@snowflakes666

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x darling #yandere oc #yandere male #obsessed #possesive #nevaerah

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velvet4510 · 8 months ago

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Here’s the thing.

Many Bagginshield shippers, especially in fics, focus on how Bilbo never got over Thorin, to the point where some describe Bilbo’s entire life as sad and empty and unfulfilled because of that loss.

Don’t get me wrong: I do agree that he suffered terrible loss and undeserved torment by the Ring. And the fact that he never married probably did have some connection to the memory of Thorin.

But, y’all, don’t forget or ignore the fact that, in Tolkien’s text, Bilbo does move on from grief and live the rest of his life well.

He does not become bitter from his pain. He retains his kind heart.

He is generous with his wealth, helping in every way he can the very community that ostracizes him.

He sees in Frodo a kindred spirit and takes it upon himself to be the parental figure that Frodo so badly needs as an orphan.

He and Frodo develop an uncle-nephew (really more like father-son) relationship built on trust, keeping no secrets from each other, to the level where he tells Frodo the truth about his encounter with Gollum. (And probably the truth about his feelings for Thorin, too.)

He and Frodo have so much fun, going for walks every day, studying the Elvish languages, and throwing big birthday parties to show the community a good time. It’s plain to see that caring for Frodo filled that massive void inside Bilbo, finally giving him someone to love and devote himself to looking after, after his first chance at that (albeit the first being a different kind of love) was taken from him.

He does not see himself as superior to the lower class despite his riches, and always treats the Gamgees with the utmost respect.

He teaches Sam to read and write.

He tells his story to the younger hobbits, inspiring more of them to want to learn more about the outside world and not be so sheltered and ignorant…an effort which ultimately saves Middle-earth because the Travelers learn from him to be curious and interested in the lands outside the Shire, and he inspires them daily, as they constantly say to themselves “if Bilbo could go there and back again despite great danger, so can we.”

He even learns to love having a tarnished reputation, ultimately taking advantage of being “mad” to play a fun prank.

When he is no longer at rest in the Shire, he gifts Frodo all his property which will ensure Frodo is set for life, and through all his passive aggressive gifts to his relatives, he gives the Gaffer genuinely useful items that he knows will help him, including ointment for creaky joints.

He gets a peaceful retirement among his Elven friends, which he spends writing his memoir so that future generations will know all about his lost friends.

And ultimately, he embraces the special gift of an exception from the Valar and rare permission to set foot in the Blessed Realm for one last adventure, where he will continue to look after his beloved nephew.

And the fact is, he never would’ve gotten any of these things if he’d stayed in Erebor. He would never have developed that special bond with Frodo - he may never have even met him - and consequently, Frodo may never have met Sam.

Yes, a lot of his life was lonely and somber. But much more of it, even after experiencing such a tragedy, was full of love and joy and fun and excitement. He became an invaluable caretaker and mentor to the next generation of hobbits, got a taste of fatherhood, passed on his expertise and his story, and spent his last years surrounded by friends and family.

Bilbo Baggins may have lost the love of his life, but he did not give up on life itself, and he lived a full one. Don’t forget that.

#lotr #jrr tolkien #lotr books #lord of the rings #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #frodo baggins #bilbo and frodo #hobbits #samwise gamgee #elvish language #red book #the valar #valinor #tolkien elves #bagginshield #thorin x bilbo #samfro #frodo x sam

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fillinforlater · 9 months ago

Text

SULLied MINd

Male Reader x Kim Minju, Seol Yonna (Sullyoon)

Length: 10.228 words

Tags: art-project all nighter turns threesome, secret crushes, softly making out, stripping, striptease, shy to bold, double blowjob, worshiping cock and balls, cunnilingus, fingering, clit play, facial, cumsluts, virginity taken, missionary, sweat, stocking kink, riding, rimming, stand and carry, cum drinking, lots of perverted thoughts, lucky!you

TW: I barely finished this in time, so the editing is not that in depth lol

Inspiration: Minju and Sullyoon just go together very well, dunno if @sinswithpleasure was the first to give this idea, but the pairing definitely comes from The Bunker... the rest is my own craziness

(A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVORITE GIRL! Happy Minju day to everyone, I hope you enjoy this fic which was supposed to be like around 4-5k...)

“No, you gotta put it in here, not in there!”

“I-I can’t, my hand is too big for the hole.”

“Then try using your fingers, that should work.”

“Eh, okay, but you need to hold onto the legs, otherwise it’ll fall over.”

“Let me get in between the—ah, Minju, watch out! Now my hand is all white.”

“Oops, Sorry.”

The struggle behind you is real, the struggle in front of you—the unfinished essay due tomorrow that is—is real too, but those spoken words cannot be real. You know exactly what Minju and Sullyoon are referring to when talking about white stuff and holes and size. After all, they are working hard to wrap up the project all of you have procrastinated on for so long and it’s bound to be a mess.

You start to trip over your own unspoken words. The lewdness in your mind is unfathomable, a mess can be a mess without mess being the wild, chaotic, imaginary sex that seems to creep into your brain more and more.

No, focus. It’s just a mess because Sullyoon and Minju still don’t know how to put together the human-sized post-modern sculpture of a robot made from cardboard, newspapers and glue—white glue, that drips from Sullyoon’s hand as she tries to shove a painted cardboard cylinder into—

You did it again. Your thoughts are betraying you.

“What are you looking at?” Sullyoon nags, when she spots your dreamy gaze on her hand. Wait, are you drooling? What the fuck is happening?

“N-nothing, nothing,” you quickly turn around and look at the pathetic pile of words that neither make sense nor reach the required minimum amount to pass. “It’s just that—you two are too loud, I can’t concentrate.”

Minju throws you a concerned look, while Sullyoon aggressively wipes her hands on a paper towel and hits you over the head with a piece of cardboard. Now there’s some stickiness in your hair

“Oh yeah? You’re still the furthest behind—I’ll do the writing, I can’t build for shit—that’s what you said and you are still not finished.”

“Sully, please, don’t scream,” Minju groans and gets on her knees in between the sculptures legs, her head on level with what could be its crotch. “Let’s just focus, okay? Can you give me the, uhm, white stuff? I need to fix the butt.”

And now Minju is spreading glue all over the—it’s better you look away and focus on the task ahead. The essay should go over all the different periods of, uhm. Or maybe the various stages during, some-thing? Perhaps the teacher wants a concise summary of how you came up with the idea and created the illusion of Sullyoon sticking her fingers in Minju’s pussy and making her face contort into—

“You’re drooling!” Sullyoon shouts and hits you again.

“Sully, please!” Minju tries to calm the situation down.

“What? Can I not be angry that this lazy ass is just daydreaming—”

“Sully, language! And stop screaming!”

“You’re both screaming and shouting, how should I concentrate?”

“You—”

Sullyoon is about to throw hands. Though they both might give off a similar reserved, kind, beauty vibe to the unsuspecting outsider, Sullyoon and Minju are quite different. It shows now more than ever, when Sullyoon slams her fist on the desk next to you and stares you down into the chair, while Minju sits on her bed, one leg crossed over the other, head lowered in defeat and annoyance.

“Stand up,” Sullyoon orders, her grip on your biceps harsh, as if she tried to scar you with her nails. “I’ll do it, save the project while you can fuck off.”

“The fuck?” you shout back, face angry. Sullyoon’s hand is slapped away and you’re about to fight more if she doesn’t back off. “You won’t do anything, and don’t curse at me. Who do you think you are?”

“Guys—”

“Oh my God, you’re unbelievable!” Sullyoon interrupts Minju and opens her adorable eyes wide in rage. “You’re gonna fail us with that—pathetic excuse of a text.”

“It would be better if you could keep your mouth shut, Sullyoon, and let me finish this in peace. Also, the robot is still not upright. If he falls over, Miss Kwon will rip our heads off.” You can barely hold yourself together. The only positive thoughts for Sullyoon, if you can call them that, are the lewd ones, those imagining her naked, her navel exposed, her pussy bare.

“Guys, I—!”

“Oh and that’s my fault? I bet your drool will make it unstable. I swear if you turn around one more time—”

“Then what? You’ll beat me, assault me? I think Miss Kwon won’t give you a better grade then—”

An ear-shattering boom. The door is shut, the door to Minju’s room—Minju, who is not with you anymore. For such a kind and bubbly girl, this fight must have killed her. She was the one suggesting that you all do the project at her place, with her parents out of town. She made cookies beforehand and had something planned for dinner too.

“I-I think we overdid it,” Sullyoon sums it up with an usually soft whisper and you nod in shame. Minju has been nothing short of an excellent host for the two of you.

Suddenly, Sullyoon’s phone rings. She doesn’t get time to answer it however, as the caller seems to end the call within a moment's notice.

“I’ll be out, gimme a second,” Sullyoon says and runs to the door.

“Sure.” She didn’t even hear that, that’s how quiet your voice was. Outside, you hear Sullyoon hurrying down the stairs. There is turmoil in your head about what you ought to do. Should you just sit here and wait for them to come back? Is it better if you go downstairs as well, apologize to Minju, so the three of you can continue with the project? Should you continue alone, perhaps?

You decide on option four: sneak towards the door, carefully open it and then lay low while trying to pick up what they are talking about. They surely aren’t fighting anymore, but their voices are loud enough for you to clearly hear every word.

“It was stupid of me, okay? Can we go back upstairs and finish our sculpture?” Sullyoon asks with loving care.

“I-I don’t know if I can,” Minju sniffles. “This was embarrassing.”

“What do you mean? You weren’t embarrassing, we were. This fight was—”

“No, you don’t get it, Sully!”

Now things seem to get heated. You can hear Minju jumping up from a chair, while Sullyoon gasps.

“Then explain it to me, Minju!”

“Okay, screw it.

“I like him, okay? Two years, I have waited two years for us to finally be in a project—and now you two are fighting! You are ruining my chances with him!”

The silence is deafening. If you weren’t lying prone on the floor already, your knees would have collapsed and you would’ve landed in the same spot anyways. What a revelation! For the first time in your life, you believe that either your ears are deceiving you or that you’re in the most lucid dream imaginable. Never before has a girl had feelings for you—

“This can’t be real,” Sullyoon suddenly laughs out loud. “You like this guy?”

“Wha-what do you mean?” Minju hisses back, whiny, like she’s about to cry. “He is very-very handsome a-and I’ve seen his abs. He is also smart, have you heard him talk about history? It’s so attractive.”

“Yeah, of course I have, he is like talking non-stop in history class.” Sullyoon’s tone has shifted from shocked and dismissive to a bit dreamy, almost like she is admiring you. “And the way he pronounces all these foreign words, or how he gives it his all in PE—”

“Wait a minute,” Minju interjects and you can hear the grin as it forms on her face. “You like him too, Sully!”

“Not anymore, not after his lazy ass didn’t do a damn thing during our project.” Another second of silence, then both of them start laughing hysterically, one is stomping on the floor, the other tries to cover her mouth to muffle the loudness.

You’ve heard enough. No, seriously. At this point, you could die happily. Two of the prettiest girls in the entire school like you and both of them are in your project group which will surely last until the next morning at your current pace. What else could you want more? Countless guys would kill to have such an opportunity.

But you want more.

“Crazy, we have the same crush. Oh, have you seen the pictures of his abs?” Minju asks excitedly after the two have finished their laughing fit.

“No, but I was about to ask: how did you get those?” Sullyoon gasps again and then giggles while both start to whisper. The whispers are too quiet, you can barely pick up any syllables. This marks the perfect moment to get back in front of the PC so they won’t catch you eavesdropping when they come back up. It also gives you time to think about what you want to do.

The image of them and their crush on you hasn’t fully settled yet, however, you’re already planning how this night might continue, what might happen, what you should say. Unlike during exams, you don’t feel pressure or tension that’s about to crush you—there is just excitement and a feeling of being loved.

“Hey, we-we are back,” Minju says a few minutes later, her face all red when she enters her room. Sullyoon follows after her, her hair a bit messier than before. Unlike Minju, she is able to hide her feelings for you quite well, now that you know.

“Hey,” you respond with a soft voice. “Look, Minju, I’m so sorry about earlier. I should’ve done my job. I won’t let you guys down this time, I promise. Sullyoon, if you want to, you can write the text. Sorry that I was so rude earlier.”

“I-it’s fine.” Both their voices seem to break when you stand up and give each an apologetic bow. With your new knowledge, you assume that this is a good sign, like selecting the correct dialogue option in a video game.

“Are you sure you want to switch, though?” Sullyoon asks and you nod.

“It’s settled then.” Minju grabs a wrist from you and a wrist from Sullyoon and has this adorable, bright smile on her beaming face. “Let’s not fight anymore and finish this dang project!”

“You are absolutely right, Minju!” you gleefully say. “You two are pretty awesome, so I’ll give it my all.”

Both their breaths pick up in pace; who would have thought that you could make the hearts of girls flutter with just a bright, sunshine smile. Sullyoon and Minju quickly dive back into work, ears still red, and you pretend to be completely unaware. Unaware of their feelings, unaware of their hopes, unaware of their—potentially sullied thoughts.

But could those two angelic looking girls really have the same impurities in their minds as you do? Can it match your fantasies of one of them admitting their love to you tonight, you kissing, cuddling and fucking secretly in the bathroom, while the other continues to work on the project? Maybe they have similar thought, but did they ever consider—

“Can you, uhm, hand me the, eh—” Minju stutters and taps her temple in thought. She looks adorable doing so.

“Do you need the model? Some cardboard? Scissors?” you ask back but Minju shakes her head, a bit abashed that she lacks the focus to say which item she needs. Thinking of scissors, your fantasy does not stop at some one-on–one lovemaking. You’d want the other to join, all three of your tongues in a make out session while your hand is in the back of their panties. You want to fondle their butts and hear them moan before they would scissor, their wet pussies rubbing up and down your manhood until you explode.

“I need the… white stuff.”

“You need the white stuff—from me?”

A quiet whisper, Sullyoon could not have picked it up. Minju halts for a second, then her face turns beet red and she hides it behind her palms, while her eyes keep looking at your awfully-well played innocent expression. Worriedly, you reach for her face and Minju gasps. What does she expect? Certainly not what follows.

“Oh, there is some glue in your hair, Minju. Guess we should wash out the white stuff~”

With that said, you grab her hand and pull her out of her bedroom. To the surprise of Sullyoon, whose questions go unheard, you and Minju enter the upper floor bathroom. There you immediately find a wet towel and start to rub Minju’s hair, and with every second that you dishevel her hair, you also seem to dishevel her mind.

Minju is perplexed, trembling, unable to react to you, especially when you inch closer and really focus on that annoying spot. The two of you forgot to turn on the bathroom lights, so there is only the dim moonlight to reveal to you the absolute dream that are Minju’s eyes: full of love, uncertainty and want.

“I think I got it out,” you finally whisper and drop the towel. “Sorry for messing up your hair.”

Minju smiles softly: “N-no, thank you. You might have saved it, a-actually.”

“Minju—” A moment of silence, full of purpose, of tension, but you bask in it. You can hear Minju’s heart racing and if you’re honest, the muscle in your chest is pumping like crazy as well. “You, you are very beautiful, one of the prettiest girls on this planet.”

“Re-really!?”

“Yes. I wish I could

“Kiss your lips; they look so soft.”

They are so soft, no doubt about it, especially when they accept you so willingly at first and then won’t let go when you try to pull back a little. Minju is on cloud nine and she wants to stay. Her adorable hands hold onto your sleeves, while you hold the back of her head securely in the palm of your hand. There is no tongue movement, there is no tongue movement needed, because it all comes together for her—

A fairy tale moment, out of nowhere, for the girl with her crush.

But your play isn’t over. After a short while, you regretfully remove yourself from her lips and continue to hold her close, hand on the small of her back. When you look down you are greeted by a look—this look of mesmerized love, with teary eyes of joy and panting lips of desire on Minju’s flawless features. How could you want more?

This is how mankind moves forward: by wanting what they don’t yet have.

“Minju,” you take a deep breath and close your eyes. “I—before we continue, and I really do want to—I have to tell you something.”

“Y-yes?”

“I like you, I really, really like you.

“But you know how multiple people can have the same crush? I, my heart, has this issue that—I, I like multiple people! I can never escape it, there is nothing I can do. That doesn’t mean that my love isn’t real—I just want to be honest with you.”

Minju, in the midst of all these surprises and twists and turns for her, looks surprisingly calm and nods carelessly. Of course she is a bit dazed, after all, your lips were just on hers and she can take them back just by getting on her toes, but this should still be a bit weird for her. At least, that is what you assumed.

“I-I don’t care,” she suddenly blurts out and her arms wrap around you tightly. “Why should I judge you? There are probably so many pretty girls out there. I-I’m just happy that you… noticed me.”

“Are you for real?” In a sudden surge of happiness, you lift Minju up and spin her around. “You are so wonderful, I know why I fell in love with you.”

This should wrap up your Oscar performance—well, it’s already beyond that. At this point the feelings for Minju feel more than just acted. How could they not? She is gorgeous, light, her lips are tender, her character adorable and you cannot escape what your heart is telling you: love her, because she loves you.

There is however still—

“Pl-please! Please love me too!”

A loud scream, and Sullyoon bursts into the room. You may not be able to see the correct colors of her face, but you know she is either pale because Minju ‘stole’ you from her or she is red all over because she thinks there is a chance, a tiny chance that you also like her. Nonetheless, all these thoughts become irrelevant, because Minju almost collapses from shock. You catch her before she is able to hit her head on the sink.

The bathroom door still rattles, but the three of you just stare at one another, eyes wide open. The situation is so absurd, you must be dreaming, dead or in heaven—all at the same time, Minju’s entire existence is in your arms and Sullyoon seems willing to join her. She is close, her hands folded as if she is begging for your love. Her breath is hot, right in your face and so unsteady.

“Sullyoon.” Minju’s voice is faint, not even a whisper, but it’s loud. It’s both a statement and a question, a question directed at you. Is this what you were talking about earlier? Could it really be that the two who have a crush on you, would not have to fight? To put it very simply: Do you love Sullyoon too?

At least tonight, you do.

“I—

“I do, actually.” Those few words have you out of breath, before you can continue, Sullyoon has taken a spot in your arms next to Minju. The speed with which your dreams come true is mind boggling, but you play it cool and hold both of them close, an arm around each of their waists.

“You mean it?” Sullyoon has never sounded this cute, not in class, not during breaks and definitely not tonight. Who can resist her with those pouty lips that adorn silky smooth, perfectly symmetrical features? “You really like me?”

“Yes, I do, I like you both. This, this has to be a dream.”

“What, uhm,” Minju stutters and looks at you, similar expression to Sullyoon, her eyes also beaming, her chin tilted towards you—their similarities become uncanny in this dimly lit bathroom. “What are we going to do now?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper and smile.

“We still have a project to finish,” Sullyoon sighs and puts her head against your chest, which does not make for a good pillow with its constant up and down movement and Minju right next to her.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I think we should finish it. Let’s focus and then maybe our thoughts are a bit more… sorted.” Both girls nod, but it takes some more convincing before they let you go. The fear that they could lose you to the other makes them stay a bit longer until you have to push through them. It’s a playful struggle, which is only resolved when the three of you go back to Minju’s room.

All is quiet for a good, productive thirty minutes. The cardboard sculpture is finally painted and read to dry, the text only needs a few more tweaks, the project is in its final stage. All you can think about, however, are your groupmates, especially when your sight drifts away from the task ahead to their faces, their hands, their hips.

“Minju, can you help me?” Sullyoon groans. “I need to finish, this bottom part is so hard!”

“Of course, let me just—put this here and this into that—do you think it fits now?”

“It still looks too big, don’t you think? Maybe we should stretch it—”

“Or we could share it? I think if we both do it, it will be better.”

Hit yourself on your forehead, because the brain behind it once again can only think of the lewd. Minju and Sullyoon are trying their best to format this text and split it into fair portions for the presentation—yet all you think about is how they admire your big cock, share it in between their parted lips and then, Minju helps Sullyoon to go down on it with her throat.

After you are all covered in her spit, Sullyoon would grab your base and put it on Minju’s folds, ease you into her and all kinds of moans would fill the room and alert all neighbors who are still awake.

“I think this is good,” Minju ultimately concludes and turns to you. “Do you want to take a look too?”

You shake your head. “Uhm, no, I’m sure it’s excellent. Wow, looks like we really finished it.”

“Okay, so.” Sullyoon spins around in her chair, hands hidden in between her thighs and everything vibrates. “Are we going to talk now about… our situation?”

“I think we are all adults, we can talk about it.” Minju fidgets a bit and looks at you. They are both waiting for you to say something, but you just smirk without a worry in the world and lay down on Minju’s bed.

“Sure, we can talk. Let’s be honest, be free. Don’t care what the rest things, just

“Tell me what you feel.”

Sullyoon pushes the chair closer to you with her feet and Minju sits down on her bed, less bold than Sullyoon, because her eyes are fixed on the other end of the mattress. You get her attention when you fingers lock with hers, but the first to speak up is Sullyoon.

“I think I have a crush on you. Two years ago it started and I can’t explain why, but—you grew very handsome during that time a-and you’re pretty smart, so—”

“I feel the same!” Minju suddenly shouts and her fingers squeeze yours tightly. “And sorry, I-I once took a picture of your, uhm, abs when you changed your shirt. It was stupid, I’ll delete it right now—”

You laugh and pull Minju on top of you. Now her gaze cannot escape yours anymore and she has to see the true awe in your eyes. A natural awe for her beauty, her kindness and the way her honesty reveals all those secret feelings.

“Delete them if you like,” you hum and place the palm of Minju’s hand on your abdomen while flexing your muscles. “But you can take some more high quality pictures, if you want to.”

Jealousy overtakes a formerly hesitant Sullyoon and she pounces onto the bed next to you. Her hands are still hidden in between her thighs, but you can see that she wants to touch what Minju is already groping.

Sullyoon doesn’t even have to ask. You grab her wrist and slowly guide it under your sweatshirt. Though she tries to act shocked and abashed, you can feel her digits roaming all over your abs greedily as she visibly drools. Minju had most of your attention until now. Now it’s Sullyoon’s turn to feel your love in the form of a wet kiss pressed right onto her already wet lips. Unlike Minju, she tries to go all in on the first go, but you quickly pull away with a chuckle and watch her eager tongue searching for your mouth.

“Sully, open your eyes,” you softly laugh at her and drag a finger over her flushed, tender cheek as she does so. “Don’t be scared, I’m not going anywhere. If you are okay with it, I can love you both with all my heart.”

“I want to share you,” she says with determination and immediately contradicts her statement by lunging at you and starting a torrential kiss that has Minju hiding her face behind her long, cascading hair. It’s all faux, because in the meantime, she has rolled up your sweatshirt to your chest. Gently she pokes your pecs and you giggle into the kiss with Sullyoon.

“Good to know we are all on the same page,” you finally voice your own feelings when Sullyoon backs off to catch her breath. “I think I could cuddle you both for the rest of the night and forget every worry, every task, every stupid responsibility ahead of us.”

Funny how your dreams come true, again. An arm around each of their waists, you pull Minju and Sullyoon deeper into the softness of pillows and blankets generously spread on Minju’s mattress. Both your cheeks are quickly peppered with kisses, cute, hesitant ones from Minju, from chin to ear and wild, playful ones from Sullyoon, from the edge of your collarbone to your lips. She seals them again and this time you can hear Minju become jealous with a loud huff.

This back and forth of envy, you see no way to disrupt it anytime soon. Come to think of it, maybe you don’t want to. This dynamic pushes them further to reveal more of their love, so give them what they want. You are theirs to love and play with—but you will play with them too.

“Minju,” you say, your voice purposefully low and more serious than before. “You have such amazing hips. They are wide and look so perfect on you.”

You turn towards her and reach for the top of her skirt. Insert a couple fingers into it and let them glide along the waistband until you reach the outermost point of her hips. Minju tenses up when you begin to grab her hips, the skin of your palms right on her underwear, slipped into her skirt. You pull her even closer and she is back to holding onto your sleeves.

“Such nice hips.” Rub them, and Minju starts to rub herself on you, face on your bare chest and crotch on your thigh. Speaking of thighs, Sullyoon might have felt neglected for a second, so you find her mouth with ease and bully her tongue with yours while putting a hand on her inner thigh. Sullyoon shrieks the more you touch her jeans-clad legs, no matter if you go down to where her calves begin or if you go up to where her pussy is aching.

“Wow, Sully, your legs, your thighs are fantastic. I bet they are very soft.”

“T-touch them more, please,” Sullyoon softly whimpers and you nod. Minju is too enamored with her own thighs around yours, she does not realize her friend popping open her jeans and sliding them down. Your hesitation, your careful planning gets thrown out of the window when you slide your hand over her soft skin and go to bite her lips.

“They are the softest, damn, I could knead them all day long.” Your hot breath mixes with Sullyoon when you go from some basic thigh stimulation to cupping her sex and pressing your palm on her covered clit. “Your panties are cute too~”

No time to focus on Sullyoon’s embarrassed face, because Minju’s takes your entire view. You try to kiss her mouth but she backs off, even climbs off the bed and stands next to it. Both her hands firmly grasps the hem of her skirt, her knuckles turn white—that’s how hard she grabs it while her voice sounds absolutely love drunk:

“I-I have cute panties too,” she complains and lifts her skirt up, higher than you thought she would dare to. Not only you, her crush, that can see this most private part, but her friend can as well. Your eyes are glued to the small, pink garment with its tiny wet spot at the front, very cute indeed, maybe even cuter than Sullyoon’s baby blue panties which at this point become ruined on your hand.

“They are really cute, Minju.” You smile, she cracks a small smile. “I did not know you two had such lewd minds and wild fantasies.”

“Can we see y-your underwear now?” Sullyoon avoids your statement with a pout while simultaneously confirming it. Minju joins her nods, skirt still held high, her panties just a bit wetter at the thought of you. “Yes, please, we-we want to see it, it’s only fair!”

“Hm, how about a deal then, my two lewd girlfriends: I’m all yours, you can undress me and play with me until you are satisfied, but first you give me a show. I want you two undressing each other slowly. Sounds like a deal?”

At this point, everything is so out of control, you might as well ask for a favor that usually would get you kicked out. After all, this isn’t porn, not every girl is into girls and into threesomes, but Minju and Sullyoon have shown to be so needy for you, their libido will take over all reasoning. To no surprise, both only hesitate for a second.

“I’m okay with that,” Sullyoon whispers. “You too, Minju?” She leaves the spot in your arm and walks behind her friend. “Are you okay with me touching you?”

“S-sure.” They both get into it quickly. Minju drops her arms and lets them dangle while her needy face is directed at you. Sullyoon makes sure you can see her fingers play with the waistband of Minju’s skirt, just like you did, and she teases you by only pulling down one side, then the other. It’s only when you groan in disapproval that she moves upwards and pulls Minju’s sweatshirt over her head.

You totally expected a bra behind this comfy, cotton barrier, but no: Minju is wearing a white shirt underneath and the tease just continues. Sullyoon finds the lowest button first and works her way up, sending chills down Minju’s spine.

An amazing midriff, toned abs around a cute little navel; you can’t help but ogle when Sullyoon presses her fingers into them and gasps in surprise. No words need to be spoken—that’s probably how Minju likes it more as well. She struggles to relax, especially when the final button pops and her shirt opens like curtains to reveal her bra, the same color as her panties, erect nipples visible through the thin garment.

“May I?” Sullyoon asks, basically blowing the question into Minju’s ear as her hands already fiddle with the clasp of the bra. The sound of silence is nothing but hot breaths and the faint creaking of Minju’s bed as you adjust yourself to get closer with her still-covered breasts.

Still covered.

“O-okay,” Minju whispers, whines, it doesn’t matter, you finally get to see her upper body in all its glory, and you find glory to be an understatement: her breasts are perfectly symmetrical, not saggy but quite perky and a bit smaller than your hands. You could cover them up and knead them without much effort; it takes effort however to not look absolutely overwhelmed as your dreamy eyes focus on erect nipples and round arolae.

“What do you think?” Sullyoon asks the question with an answer that is obvious but hard to put into words.

“Minju, your body looks…

“... very, very hot. I-I’ve never seen something so flawless.”

“And you haven’t even seen what’s behind this~” Sullyoon’s voice is sultry as she taps Minju’s skirt. She once again teases you, her smooth hand under the skirt and once you hear Minju shriek, you know what she is about to do.

Sullyoon removes those stained panties, while Minju still wears her skirt. The miniscule petite underwear wraps around her ankles while her dainty digits wrap around the hem of her skirt. At this point, your drool cannot be held back. You need to see her most private place.

“Let, let me do it!” Minju says with confidence and as if she’s as impatient as you are, pulls the skirt up and shuts her eyes. Sullyoon chuckles lightly and gets a hold of Minju’s hips, while you are about to dive into those wet folds, small and pink and definitely untouched. You notice a small strip of hair above her clit which looks like it should twitch at any moment. Minju’s visible arousal becomes your visible arousal and before you can end the teasing session and start a new session, Sullyoon interrupts you:

“Shouldn’t Minju undress me now?”

“Wha—oh… yeah, sure,” you respond and hold your horny horses. Minju looks a bit dazed when she drops the skirt and opens her eyes again. You help her gain focus by reaching for her hands and holding them. “Nothing to be ashamed of, Minju, you are perfect down there as well.”

“Re-really?”

“Yes, I’d never lie to the girls I love.

“Now, why don’t you help Sullyoon get out of those… tight jeans?”

Sullyoon smirks. Without you noticing it, she pulled her pants back up and made sure that they showed the outline of her shapely butt. She is a tease like no one before or after; fortunately, Minju seems to not get what teasing is about: with you still right beside her, she puts all her strength at pulling the denim down—the denim and Sullyoon’s panties.

“Eh, what are you—Minju!” Sullyoon complains loudly.

“So-sorry, did I do it wrong?”

“You, you were too fast!” The shyness returns to Sullyoon’s face as she buries it in the crook of her arm.

“No reason to fight,” you ease the flames of conflict burning before you. “I think Minju did a great job and your butt is great, Sullyoon.”

“No, don’t say that, it’s too big!”

“I’m gonna say it again.” You emphasize your words with a good squeeze on both her cheeks while Minju’s wide eyes are on the dumpy before her. “You have a fantastic butt, not too big, definitely not too small, perfect.”

Your kneading hands leave Sullyoon a mewling mess, speechless, even as Minju goes and undresses her further. It’s all a lot quicker, the top is removed easily, the bra falls with a simple click and Sullyoon is the first to be fully nude. She stops your continued handsy attacks on her ass with a spin around. Unlike Minju, her pussy is freshly shaven and her entire body looks like it was made just for this moment.

“Someone is prepared,” you say with a smile and drag a finger up her midriff to her tits which are nice handfuls of their own, similar in size and shape to Minju’s.

“You are mean,” Sullyoon pouts and suddenly starts to embrace you. You gasp. Her body is almost scorching hot. “I waited so long for this.”

“I bet you couldn’t look better. No dream, no imagination can make your body look any sexier.”

“Thank you, I’m glad you like it.”

The sound of someone crawling onto the bed gets your attention. Minju lays next to you, her skirt finally kicked away and she stretches her arms forward in search of your embrace. That poor girl is desperate, however, you don't make it to her before Sullyoon unzips your pants.

“It’s only fair if we get to see you too, right, Minju?” Sullyoon asks, her tone making it clear that the answer cannot differ from her needs.

“Should I strip for you too?” you say with a witty smile, but Minju comes to Sullyoon’s aid.

“Enough teases, I—I can barely think!”

The striptease must have set something in motion within Minju: her shyness is only apparent on her fully red cheeks, her hands have already taken a different path. Boldly, they yank down both your pants and briefs in strong pulls, past your erection, which comes back swinging at her. Minju dodges it, because she can’t stop looking at Sullyoon behind you, arms resting on your shoulder, lips suckling at your neck.

“So big!” Minju can’t hold back her shock and awe at the shape, the bend, the size.

“Yeah,” Sullyoon dreamily adds. “We really have to share him from now on.”

Things are out of control. Every further plan of slowly getting to your dream threesome scenario are useless, laughable, when both your new lovers shove you down into the mattress and somehow find space on and in between your legs to intently stare at and past your phallus. Minju and Sullyoon are often not on the same page, sometimes polar opposites in class, but tonight they are more than united.

While Minju is in awe at how you throb and seemingly still grow into the air, Sullyoon eagerly spits into her hand and slowly spreads her saliva on your shaft. The thoughtfulness, carefulness and softness of her fingers make every pump of hers fade into absurdity. Right from the get go, Sullyoon’s handjob is already on the level of jerking yourself off.

“Have you ever done this, Minju?”

“N-no, never. Not even close.”

“I—only have with not real dicks.” The two blush, but there is no need to intervene. Unlike in most classes, they are eager to study for themselves, learn new tricks and test them on you.

“How about you start down at his… sac, while I go from the top?” Sullyoon suggests and Minju nods. However, you still see hesitance in her eyes, probably because she is afraid of screwing things up or making it awkward.

“They are full for you, Minju,” you softly coo and brush her hair as she almost puts her lips on them. Okay, maybe she needs the tiniest of pushing to finally— “Put your lips on them, give them a kiss. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Sullyoon is definitely not afraid. She wraps her mouth around your cockhead and begins to twirl her tongue around it. The taste of your precum must have urged her on, because she hums happily and sucks loudly. It’s like your cock is the straw in her favorite drink, that's how aggressively she sucks and her eyes roll into the back of her head. Meanwhile Minju sneakily tries to find the best spot to wrap her lips around your crown jewels, her adorable expression unpurified when she decides to go for it.

“Oh fuck!” you groan and your body arches involuntarily. More of your manhood is pressed onto their faces, into their eagerly drooling holes; it makes you wonder if you even need their pussies if this already feels so heavenly. The eagerness and playfulness of Sullyoon paired with the gentleness and sweetness of Minju makes for a double blowjob that could drain you embarrassingly fast.

Something inside your stomach tells you to just release it. Let them suck, let them play, until you just release it all over them without worry in deep bliss. Before that happens, you have to get back at them. It would be quite the disappointing night if this was your only load and they wouldn’t have any stimulation until then. You have to come up with a plan, while Sullyoon pops you from her mouth with a deep moan.

“Minju, let’s switch,” she suggests. “He tastes really good, you have to try it. Don’t worry about the size, I couldn’t take it either.”

“Oh, okay, his, his balls are quite hard. Does this mean they are full?”

“Fuck, yes,” you interrupt their horny conversation, ready to announce your plan. A plan that will surely distract you and them to the point all of you will have the best of fun. “After you’ve switched, how about you turn your butts towards me? You’re doing a fantastic job, I want to return the favor.”

They lock eyes, then look at you and nod. Sullyoon has this grin on her lips, as if she can’t wait for your fingers and tongue on her labia. Minju, again, might look quite abashed, but she is quicker than Sullyoon when it comes to showing you her behind. The sight of her bare ass, tiny pink pussy and thighs spilling out of black stockings has you drooling, almost neglecting Sullyoon’s equally remarkable offer.

Sadly, you only have one tongue and so you dive into Minju’s cunt first. In what has to be the most mind-melting moment in her life, the beautiful girl sucks in your addictive taste while for the first time, someone touches her virgin sex. Minju moans around your length while you lick all the way from her clit to her asshole in long quick swipes. You watch her body tremble and decide to put an arm around it so she doesn’t sway away from your mouth, which digs into her sensitive folds.

Speaking of sensitive folds, your other hand has found more of those. Sullyoon’s innie, beautifully smooth, spills wetness forth and guides you to the well-lubricated entrance. You don’t even have to see anything to slip your middle finger inside her. Sullyoon gasps and nuzzles her soft cheek against your balls, while a little bit higher, Minju has lost all shame.

“Yummy, yummy,” she babbles every half second when your cock leaves her mouth. The two of you seem to share the same thought: These perverted fluids are delicious, I better get as much as I can.

In your mutual delight, Sullyoon momentarily rips you out of it, just to make things even better. She bunches up Minju’s hair in a hand and starts to put her lips on Minju’s. Their tongues battle, luckily your tip is there to separate them, though it does not want peace: it wants all out war.

For this brilliant idea, you decide to switch and bury your face in Sullyoon’s ass then quickly move to her cunt and pierce it open with your wet muscle, the same muscle Minju’s twitching hole misses. She has to finish on your hand, so you decide to twirl her exposed clit in between your fingers.

The greatest trio in the world's most renowned orchestra could not compare to the harmonies your different moans produce. They are unfiltered, not played for a camera, not exaggerated—but still so loud, booming, climactic, when Sullyoon shutters. Her juices gush into your mouth, more when she leans back and presses her pussy on your face.

Minju follows quickly, almost sitting on and riding your hand as it lays there, fingers tapping upwards, against her nub. Her orgasm is not as wet, but you feel the bed shake when she cums and seemingly goes to another reality. You’re glad she physically stays, her tongue still eager at your slit—and Sullyoon is on the other side, making out with her and your cockhead.

You're incredibly hard, an iron-like rod, a tip that is purple and sensitive yet absolutely numb and only begging for what might as well be the best and final release. The thought of this ever happening again does not cross your mind, a void of nothing but pleasure. You have to give it your all now and so you buckle upwards in between their sandwiching lips and explode without warning.

“Fuuuck,” Sullyoon groans. Minju yelps, a high pitch as she still rides out her own orgasm on your palm. Your first is bombastic, a shot up in the air that rains down on their faces while the rest is equally distributed on their tender cheeks, silky lips, hot tongues. No need to mention that a lot ends up in places where the clean up will be more annoying: hair, bedsheets, even clothes have stains of white on them.

Who cares, really? Not Minju, who still laps up what leaks out of your aching, overstimulated cock. Not Sullyoon, who is out of breath and uses your thigh as a pillow. Certainly not you who literally passed out for a second and only returns because Minju sucks too strongly.

“Ouch, fuck, Min-Minju it hurts—”

“You tasht sho good, I want more.”

“Then, ahhh, get it from Sullyoon’s face, I-I don’t have anything anymore.”

Minju listens and obidies, unable to remember her shy nature when she sucks on Sullyoon’s skin to get all of your spunk off of her. Sullyoon is unfazed, mewling a bit before finding your gaze. She smirks and suddenly, the tip of her index finger touches your balls.

“You're lying,” she whispers. “You have at least one more in you.”

“I-I don’t think so.” Shake your head to emphasize your words, but Sullyoon emphasizes her belief more thoroughly by pumping from your base up. Slow strokes to keep the pressure in it, she makes sure to keep her mouth a literal breath away, a hot breath that takes your breath away. Your eyelids shutter.

“Are you sure he can keep going?” Minju cutely asks, the final remnants of cum she collected from Sullyoon’s forehead on her finger which she promptly puts in her mouth and cleans thoroughly. “I could really go for another.”

“Don’t you want him to take your virginity?” Sullyoon’s question somehow has the blush return to Minju’s ears, she turns around abashed. It’s unbelievable: a second ago, she was the biggest cumslut, now she is afraid of what feels like a logical next step if it weren’t for…

“We can’t, Sully,” you say and reach for both their heads and pat them. “Not going to do it if we don’t have condoms, and maybe we should take some time? This is all a bit—”

“Crazy?” Sullyoon climbs off the bed and searches through her backpack, to the confusion of both you and Minju. It takes her a while to find what she is looking for, so you enjoy seeing her ass in the squatting position. “Is it crazy that I have these?”

She throws you a pack of condoms. You blink.

“Is it crazy that I want you to take my virginity tonight?” Sullyoon sneaks back like a predator, adorable looking, dangerously feeling up your thigh to your once again hard length. You don’t let her have her way, grab her wrists and look at Minju.

“You are crazy. Look in whose bed we are! Minju, what do—”

“I-I’m fine with it!” Minju cups her cheeks and her gaze can’t fix on either your or Sullyoon’s face. “I can give you privacy, if you want.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sullyoon laughs. “You should join us. I’d let you go first, if you want.” She licks her lips and even with her arms being held down by you, she gets her flat tummy to rub on your manhood, close to her heat which you can no longer resist.

“I’ll get some water, you… do you.” Minju’s words are hastily spoken, her sentence finished when she is already out of the door. This settles it for you. You’re going to fuck Sullyoon; her first time is yours and the way she rips open the wrapping of the first condom leaves no doubt in your mind:

This girl loves you and wants you now.

“How do you want it?” you ask and roll the thin, barely-there rubber down your cock.

“I want you to push in me, push my body into the bed, slowly at first. Be careful until I tell you to go faster. Fuck me, hug me, do it so good and hard that I forget that there was ever a time where you didn’t love me.”

“Sounds—

Let go of her wrists and Sullyoon lets her amazing body fall into the cushions. Her lewd expression shifts; nervousness, only a little, seriousness, a little more—thrill, endless amounts of thrill. The same counts for you.

“—good. Spread your legs for me, Sullyoon. Breathe and relax.”

Those wonderful legs not only spread for you, they actually wrap around you, their smoothness suddenly suffocating and now it’s you who needs to breathe. Your cock slips into her so easily, your tip parts her, enters and if it weren’t for her wince you would’ve gone hilt deep right away. Sullyoon’s eagerness momentarily comes to a halt as she realizes that you are a bit different from her toys.

“Wow,” she mumbles mindlessly. “You’re so wide and hard and warm—nothing like a… a…”

“Like a dildo?” you tease her and gradually drag your tip along her walls and then out of the blissful heat. Her legs make sure to push you back in and now she is even tighter. Sullyoon wants you to stay, you can’t leave without your permission. “Tell me when it hurts.”

“Actually—”

Her digits find your nape and pull you down to where her lips pucker.

“—I want you to hammer your cock into me now. Mold my pussy in its shape. Hold back only if I say stop.”

“Got it.” Kiss her lips. “I love you, Sully.”

Sometimes, you need to let go and let the reckless abandon of lust take over your body. Your hips become a tool for pleasure, as they gyrate, then move back and forth to bury your length deeper in Sullyoon’s cunt. Then you copy and paste their movements and repeatedly do them with your tongue as well to the point your new girlfriend desperately clings to you. It’s not only the sweat that sticks to you; her entire being keeps you glued down.

You pump, pump, pump into Sullyoon until you notice her eyes rolling back into her head whenever you hit that spot. The sweet spot that will eventually make her cum. Good thing that you already blew a load and that all your sensitivity has subsided—it gives you the power that makes you feel like a superhero, a superhuman. You will not stop at anything, you want to make her cum with just your dick and so you have to fuck harder.

“Oh God, you’re so big, so fucking big and perfect,” Sullyoon moans. As a thank you, you place a hickey somewhere on her neck. In hindsight, a bad idea. All your classmates will see it, unless she wears turtlenecks from now on. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, you’re so good.”

“Your pussy, Sully, it’s, it’s so tight. You’re choking me.”

“Spread me open more then, fuck, fuck, I want you to make me full.”

Hidden from the world, you place a hand on Sullyoon’s abdomen. Not to touch that tummy that alone can make boys fall instantly, though it feels nice to rub your fingers across it—no, your goal is further down, right above where your cock pounds into that wet cunt. Talk about wet, Sullyoon’s juices have spread everywhere, Minju will smell her friend in this room for days to come.

And talk about Minju: she has just returned, a huge bottle of water in her hand and eyes wide open. There is no shock at the sight of Sullyoon moaning and bending under the never ending attack of your hands, tongue and of course cock. Minju is more fascinated than anything else, you know she could watch for hours if only you didn’t notice her.

“Oh, hey,” you gasp in between groans, but your greeting is cut short by Sullyoon’s deafening scream.

“Minju, Minju, oh fuck, you have to try this. He is so good~

“Yes! My clit, right there! Oh my God, I’m going to cum, you make me c-cum!”

Sullyoon pulsates throughout her pussy, her arms, her fingers. Those pointy nails of hers dig painful bruises in your back while your blurry gaze tries to make out her face in haze, but all you see is the shape of her mouth being agape. She’s suddenly so quiet, except for her pussy, which tries to start your own orgasm. You won’t give it to her, not when Minju stands there, her stocking-clad thighs rubbing together, visibly stained with her nectar.

“You guys…” she whispers and watches closely as you pull out of Sullyoon and wipe away some beads of sweat that have formed on your temple. You’re not a construction worker, but your work was hard and it paid off: Sullyoon could not be closer to heaven above the clouds, no skyscraper or airplane can take her there.

“Can I have some of that?” you weakly ask and point at the water bottle. You’re quick to squeeze out a huge portion when Minju hands you the plastic container. From the corner of your eye you see Sullyoon, back from her crazy trip and you offer her some of the water. She rejects and suddenly, full of energy, jumps up and behind Minju.

“Minju, you have to try it.” Minju shrieks when Sullyoon places her hands on the hourglass body. “He feels amazing, I know you will love it.” All her fingers carelessly drift down to where Minju’s full thighs spill out of hr black thigh-highs.

“B-but didn’t he, like, fi-finish in you? He must be exhausted.” Minju’s excuse is met with a scoff from Sullyoon.

“Look at that thing.” Sullyoon points in between your legs. That’s right, you’re still solid and throbbing, aching to go for more. “He is a stud, he can go forever. He will make you cum on your first time, Minju~”

“I-I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to listen to her,” you tell Minju and take another sip from the bottle. “We can do something else if you don’t feel ready yet.”

Your words might be honest, but Minju does not get a fair chance to consider this other option. In front of her sits her crush, a guy with a big, super tasty cock. Behind her is a friend, mind controlled by lust, eager to share this big, super tasty cock. The sight of you teases her, Sullyoon’s hands on her hips, butt, crotch tease her. Can she really go for it now? Make this crazy night become nothing but madness, a story worth telling but no one will ever hear it?

“I want… you inside of me.”

“Perf—”

“I want you to cum inside of me!”

You gulp, thoughts tripping over each other. Even Sullyoon is perplexed and frozen. “R-really?” you both ask the still-virgin girl.

“No, like, in-in a condom of course! I just want to know… that my pussy felt good for you, that I can make you cum. I don’t want to get pregnant yet of course—oh God, did you think that?”

“Well…”

“Doesn’t matter!” Sullyoon suddenly laughs this chaotic misunderstanding off and pushes Minju on your lap. “Here, Minju, put a new condom on his cock. We don’t do creampies, but I totally get what you want.”

“I’m so sorry, that was a stupid thing to say,” Minju apologizes awkwardly, but you quickly forget about it when she expertly puts the rubber on your tip and has your entire phallus covered in no time. Her dainty fingers feel fantastic on your base, which she holds steady, awaiting you to do something with it. You can’t make up your mind however: should you pick her up and throw her into the sheets to fuck her like Sullyoon? Maybe spin her around and fuck her doggy, ass up, that beautiful face buried in pillows as you burry yourself inside her for the first time?

Sullyoon helps you come up with a third solution. She grabs your wrists and firmly puts them on Minju’s tiny waist and instinctively, you lift her up and over your cock. Minju looks down at your manhood and mewls, ready yet not ready to take it. Her starlit eyes, a few centimeters away, look down into yours and you swear you don’t want to hurt. You have to do everything to make this the best thing for her.

Give Minju a firm kiss on her trembling lips as both you and Sullyoon gently place her entrance on your spear. At first, she is scared, her body tensing up, but with your warmth radiating on her warm folds, she suddenly seems eager. More and more inches disappear into her and you leave her lips to hear her ultimate moan when her virginity disappears.

“Ouh, so big, so much, ahhh!”

“Does it hurt?” you ask her.

“A-a bit, but it’s fine—Sullyoon, what are you doing!? Don’t look at it!”

Sullyoon kneels between your legs. When she breathes out through her nose, your balls feel her hot and horny breath. She completely ignores Minju’s words and stares at how you leave and re-enter Minju’s pussy. “Minju, this… this is the best sight! Trust me, it feels good when he goes faster. Your pussy will feel so good.”

“This is embarrassing,” Minju mewls again, her hips firmly pushed down on your lap, almost the entirety of your cock inside her. You might not feel powerless in this position, not at all in fact, but you want this absolute beauty of a woman to do how she likes it. If she just wants to sit on you and slowly move her lower body in circles, that’s fine, if she wants to ride you with heavy thrusts, that would be to die for—

But Minju unexpectedly picks a third option. Seriously, these girls are full of surprises. She puts her hands on your shoulders while yours instinctively hover down to her hips and then she tightens around your cock again before moving up and down, up and down, up and down with perfect body control, at the same pace.

Minju rides you, fucks you, like she has done it a thousand times. You can hardly believe she never had a toy inside her. Every breath becomes more chaotic, her features disheveled, her tongue numb. It hangs out of her mouth, a perfectly ripe weak spot for you to attack. You suck on it, bully it in your mouth and Minju grabs your throat, accidentally choking you. No, no, she has to keep doing that. She has to suffocate you, with her pussy, with her fingers, with her stunning visuals as she fucks herself silly.

“Sullyoon, fuck,” you both simultaneously curse when the forgotten girl starts to lick all the way from your perineum over to your cock and Minju’s folds to Minju’s butthole, then back down, as if it were the longest, tastiest lollipop. She is not irritated by all the sweat, the lewd juices and Minju’s ass bouncing on your dick—Sullyoon laps it all up and even giggles when she hears both of you struggle with the added pleasure.

Minju gradually loses speed, which is of course not bad, after all, her cunt still tries to suck your Sullyoon-kissed balls dry, but you notice how completely out of breath and overstimulated she seems. With unfocused puppy eyes she tries to apologize for her lack of stamina, but instead of lamenting, you find a quick solution—a solution that sends Minju straight into her first ever crazy orgasm.

Hock your arms underneath her legs, securely hold her and stand up. Sullyoon gasps in surprise, her tongue still in Minju’s ass, which suddenly shakes when you start to fuck. Minju screams in bliss, covers your crotch in girl cum as you lose your grip on reality but never your grip on her hips. Minju can barely hold onto your nape as you pound her and send orgasm after orgasm into her.

“Ahhh, oh my God, it’s, it’s coming again!”

She deserves so many more so you steady your feet and thrust upwards harder, faster, gape her cunt wide open, all for Sullyoon to see. She remembers that you speared her open in a similar way, your cock hard and reckless. She starts to touch herself while sucking on whatever part of your base isn’t currently inside Minju. In the meantime, Minju’s stockings burn themselves in your memory. She always has to wear them, they look so hot, seductive, like they were made to cover her legs.

“So big, too much, too much, I—”

Minju explodes again. This time her ability to speak is replaced by mindless moans, which sound a bit silly through her constantly cracking voice. You look down and admire the ripple of her thighs, the way her small tits bounce up and down. Her hot cunt feels ready for a load, a load it will not directly receive unfortunately.

Unfortunately? No, it’s good! You can’t risk getting Minju pregnant, that would be insane.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you groan.

“Let me help you~” Sullyoon’s lewd voice and even lewder lips push you over the edge as she puts your balls in her mouth and sucks on them loudly. The added pressure makes you unload into the condom, testing its durability. Luckily it passes the test and Minju still gets to have that feeling of hotness inside her.

She smiles weakly, but cannot really react. Her body goes limp in your arms as you slip out of her wide open hole. You carefully drop her onto the bed, a bed that you definitely need too now. Soft sheets to finally rest in after this night of projects and—other projects so to say.

“Fuck that was insane. What’s going to happen now?” you ask no one in particular. Minju is already gone, deep in a dream.

“What do you think?” Sullyoon suddenly says and lays next to you in bed, her fingers pulling away the condom. When she sees the ridiculous amount of cum still covering your dick, she is quick to clean it up with her tongue. It seems that she is just as addicted to your taste as Minju.

“Fuck, Sully—”

“We have to do this every week.”

“Wh-what?”

“Aren’t we your girlfriends now? Don’t you want this—

“To happen again~?”

Yes, they are your girlfriends now—and yes: you have fallen for them.

Who could blame you?

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #izone smut #male reader #male reader smut #minju smut #sullyoon smut #nmixx smut #happy minju day #kim minju smut

1K notes · View notes

astonmartinii · 2 years ago

Text

astonmartinii’s masterlist

if you would like to support me or send me a coffee, please go here ko-fi.com/astonmartini !!

max verstappen

teacher’s pet

babysitter duty

play date

pen pals

study bug

college

teddy bear

into the arms of another part two part three part four

worlds biggest fan part two

behind the camera

we don’t play about halloween

passion for fashion

bite the hand

charles leclerc

big reputation | part two

home ties

all is fair in love and war

birthday wishes

the student life part one / part two

love languages

motormouth

cat mom

author

big girls do(n’t) cry

tight knit

friendship bracelets

you and me got a whole lotta history

angel baby, devil child

undercover verstappen

nonsense... or is it? | a very nonsense christmas

oscar piastri

rookie love

a spoonful of sugar

cherry lip balm

i am the rockstar, girlfriend

witchy business

peas in a pod

southern charm

kiss it better

nothing good ever happens at the work christmas party

daniel ricciardo

ric number three

cooking up a storm

rockstar

wedding bells

big apple lovin’

ultimate wing man

i don’t wanna be funny anymore

lewis hamilton

raw chemistry

doggy day care

get the bag

top secret

signed up for life

spice up your life

sebastian vettel

racing royalty

family ties

pierre gasly

we never go out of style

final(ly) girl

mick schumacher

summer breaking

opposites attract

lando norris

lonely hearts club

suck up

team bonding

best friends 4 ever

frost bitten

dj got us falling in love

big time rush

loving on a sunday

head in the clouds

reluctant cupid

bad blood (lando's version)

ballad of lovebirds and puppy dogs

just add water

george russell

george russell’s the type of guy

first impressions matter

esteban ocon

always the ones you least expect

carlos sainz

journalist

old money

are you going to be my girl?

toto wolff

falling for you

alex albon

nine lives

careful what you wish for

yuki tsunoda

guess who?

logan sargeant

pick of the crop

lance stroll

brother's best friend

mamma mia

no more ace to play

honey, honey

age of no regret

a wonderful thing

a very mamma mia christmas

if you need me, let me know, gonna be around

guilty as sin masterlist

6K notes · View notes

cynical-ghost · 2 months ago

Note

Hi could you write an ollie bearman x lewis hamiltons daughter!reader fc ( nico parker) where theyve been secretly dating for a year and only friends and family know and the internet finds out when they are seen together ect social media au please :)

CAUGHT OUT

Pairing: Ollie Bearman x Hamilton!reader

Genre: fluff, smau- Social media

Warning(s): use of Yn, language?

Synopsis: you and Ollie have been dating for a year now, you had agreed to keep your relationship a secret from the media and your families agreed. You had been so careful…

YnHforeal

Liked by LewisHamilton, OllieBearman, KimiAntonelli and 3,264,789 others

YnHforeal pictures my bestie takes Vs My dad 😐, who taught this man to take pictures My God!

LewisHamilton I never said I was a photographer🙄

YnHforeal the only thing that is saving you rn is your fashion sense

LewisHamilton you think I have fashion sense 🥹 you’ve never said that before

YnHforeal Mum Pick me up I’m scared…

Yourmum Lewis, stop scaring our daughter 🧍‍♀️🫵

LewisHamilton 🤐

Yourbff BEAUTIFUL

Yourbff GORGEOUS

Yourbff ON MY KNEES FOR YOU BABYGIRL🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

Slut4yn I need a friend like this 😭

Ynismymother don’t we all😭

OllieBearman

Liked by YnHforeal, yourbff, arthur_leclerc and 108,943 others

OllieBearman 🍽️💪

OlliesNo1fan A FEMALE???

User25 does anyone know who she is?? I’ve never seen her before!!

User12 is this a soft launch???!!!

User15 no way Ollie is softlaunching rn

Gossip_grid If anyone has any information on this post please Dm us 🫶

User14 you need to keep your nose out of other peoples business 🙄

Motheryn IKR!! They always snooping around racers personal lives

User76 I have some info

Gossip_grid

Liked by User76, OLLIEB972, Bearmangrrr and 567,873 others

Gossip_grid After F2 driver Ollie Bearman’s last instagram post that many suggested was a soft launch with an unknown woman, we were sent these photos of Ollie and the unknown woman. Have you got any idea who she could be? Let us know in the comments! ❤️

Motheryn you need to respect drivers privacy, it’s disgusting to beg for content 🙄

User15 Maybe it’s Yn?!?!

User12 Nah, they have been friends since they were little. It’s got to be that girl who was in the paddock the other week!

User24 That was debunked, that girl is Kimi’s girlfriend.

OLLIEB972 does anyone think that girl kinda looks like Yn Hamilton?

User03 but Yn has curly hair?

User30 ever heard of a hair straightener? 😂

User03 oh shit, I feel so dumb rn 😭😭 I totally forgot🤐

User30😂😭😂

YnHforeal

Liked by OllieBearman, LewisHamilton, yourbff and 7,693,542 others

YnHforeal Happy birthday to me 🤗🎉🥳

LewisHamilton They get old so fast😭

Youmother keep it together man! She is only 19🙄

LewisHamilton but she just my little girl🥹

Yourmother 😐

Yourmother MY BEAUTIFUL BABY! You have been the light of my life since we found out you were just a little bean in my tummy. For the last 19 years you have grown into a beautiful young woman and you have your whole life ahead of you xxx

YnHforeal Mumma 😭😭😭

YnHforeal you made me cry 😭

Yourmother don’t cry baby, your friends are waiting.

Yourbff don’t worry Mrs Hamilton, she’s in good hands 😉

User12 what does that mean!!!

OllieBearman HAPPY BIRTHDAY 🎂 🎉🫶

YnHforeal THANK YOU 🙏🫶💋

OLLIEB972 👀

User15👀

User24👀

Drama_paddock

Liked by Gossip_grid, F1wags, user72 and 837,637 others

Drama_paddock Yn Hamilton and Ollie bearman seen on what seems to be a romantic date the day after Hamiltons 19th birthday!

User12 WTF OMG

User21 they are so cute omfg !!! ❤️

User30 aww, now give them some privacy

OllieBearman

Liked by YnHforeal, LewisHamilton, Yourmother and 1,344,873 others

OllieBearman Girlfriend?

YnHforeal Boyfriend?

User15 OMFG ITS REAL !!

OLLIEB972 now that’s what I’m talkin bout💕

Yourbff You guys are so cute, please don’t make me be third wheel for another year 😭

User29 A YEAR

User02 THEY HAVE BENE TOGETHER FOR A YEAR!!

Motheryn WTF A YEAR-

LewisHamilton 👀🫵

OllieBearman 🫶🫵👩

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 smau #formula one #ollie bearman #oliver bearman #f2 #f2 smau #Hamilton reader #lewis hamilton

471 notes · View notes

kaleldobrev · 2 months ago

Text

Aren’t You Forgetting Something?

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben, Hughie Campbell, MM & Nan (Reader’s Grandmother)

Original Prompt: Requested by anon | I gotta tell you that not only I love your writing but I love your series writing, specifically. When something new drops I’m always happy to read it before going to bed because I somehow feel connected to the characters, like I know them! I love to keep up with them and I love Ben’s and Y/N relationship so much. I’m in the mood for some angst between them tho, maybe Ben forgetting her birthday and receiving a silence treatment? I don’t know, but I trust you.

Summary: Ben forgets one of the most important days in yours and his relationship — your one year anniversary

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Cursing (40x), Forgetful!Ben, Ben making fun of Hughie for the umpteenth time, Implied violence, Lots of angst, Fluff, Vulnerable!Ben & Implied Smut at the end

Authors Note: Takes place in the Hughie’s Best Friend is Dating Soldier Boy Universe | I changed it from birthday to anniversary, so I hope that's okay my anon friend! | Takes place after After Everything | I had a lot of fun looking up 1950s fashion for this | There will not be a second part to this but I will still be adding to this universe | This came out a lot longer than I expected it to, but I had a lot of fun with this | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

⋆ Hughe's Best Friend is Dating Soldier Boy Masterlist ⋆

You never thought that this day would ever come, but it was finally here: yours and Ben's one year anniversary. It was a milestone that you never thought would come, as the relationship between the two of you wasn't always easy. It was rocky, and sometimes very, very messy. But despite all of the messiness, you loved him unconditionally, and he loved you just the same, but showed it in his own unique ways.

Ben wasn't the kind of person to verbally say, "I love you," as his love language tended to be that of a physical nature. He would do chores around the house that you hated to do — despite him having it too. He would bring things back from missions that reminded him of you — often those objects being covered in someone else's blood; and he would kiss and smack your ass every time you were in his path, no matter what either one of you was doing.

Although you love those physical actions, you hoped that maybe one day you would be able to hear him utter those three little words you had been yearning to hear — and maybe, just maybe, today was that day.

Since Ben was away on a secret mission that you weren’t apart of since you were sick at the beginning, you took this whole week that he was away in order to plan what you were going to do for him the day of. Initially, the two of you agreed that you really weren't going to do anything special to celebrate, but the more you thought about it, the more you realized how important this milestone truly was; not only for your relationship, but for the two of you individually.

Although it was only a year, your relationship with Ben was the longest you've ever been in. Not that you've had many previous relationships, but every single one you had previously never really lasted long (you were lucky if it lasted two months), as they either did not understand the whole vigilante justice objective of The Boys, Butcher somehow scared them off, or they were (funnily) threatened by Hughie.

But Ben was different in this way compared to your other relationships. He understood the vigilante justice, he understood your hatred for Vought, and he wasn't threatened by Hughie in the slightest (Hughie was actually threatened by him). Despite all of his flaws, he was perfect in his own way.

When it came to the Ben side of things, you were not his longest relationship by a long shot, but you were the first and only person to have genuine feelings for him. Those genuine feelings being something that no one had seen coming — not even you. But he was someone that gradually turned into becoming the person you had wanted to spend the rest of your life with, despite how strange that sounded to most people.

Your plan for the big day was simple, but felt like it would be special enough to really honor and celebrate the relationship. You had planned to make his favorite dinner: steak and mashed potatoes. For dessert, favorite pie: pecan. And dress in the style of a 1950s housewife, as that was a style he had never once seen you in before.

Even though you have made his favorite dinner and dessert hundreds of times before, dressing up as a housewife was something that was definitely beyond your comfort zone and expertise, so you went to the one person that knew could help you best: your Nan.

Despite the style of the housewife fashion basically being obsolete, it was a look that she adored, and dawned on even years after the style had become out of fashion. Her hair was always neat and never out of place, her lipstick always the deepest shade of red, and her dresses always the brightest of hues. You remembered seeing pictures of her back when she was your age and she was a knockout (Ben agreeing), so when you told her that you wanted to dress in the housewife style, she beamed and quickly went to her closest to pull out the nicest shade of red that perfectly matched your skin tone.

“Just don’t do anything sexual in this dress. I’ll never be able to get the stains out,” she told you with a wink. Her comment causing you to roll your eyes.

“You’re just as bad as Ben,” you told her.

Ben was eager to get back home to you, as this mission was taking a lot longer than he had anticipated. It was supposed to be a quick and easy assassination (something he had done alone hundreds of times before), but one thing after another kept going wrong, and he couldn’t help but blame “his team.” He felt himself getting more and more agitated by the second, and there was nothing he could do about it, especially because you weren’t here to help him take the edge off.

Even though rough sex with you right now would be the highlight of the mission, he wished that you were here to at least talk to him, because you were one of the only people he knew that he could have an actual conversation with that wouldn't end up with him being annoyed.

He paced back and forth, with shield in hand; the only sounds between him and the rest of the group were the occasional snicker and his heavy boots. “You’re making me nervous walking around like that,” MM said, behind his binoculars.

Ben rolled his eyes, stopping a few feet away from him. “Then what would you suggest I’d be doing right now? We’re just sitting around doing nothing.”

“Is there somewhere else you need to be? Cause we’re here to do a job,” MM replied, removing the binoculars from his eyes and turning in Ben’s direction. “And we’re going to be here as long as it takes to do this job.”

“I’d rather be in Y/N’s pussy or ass right now, but because you guys are all somehow getting worse at your jobs, I can’t fucking do that right now,” Ben said, grinning an annoyed grin.

His comment caused mixed reactions from the group; but mainly disgusted looks from MM and Hughie. Butcher and Frenchie on the other hand, looked indifferent about his comment. “I really wish you’d stop mentioning how much you like fucking my best friend. It’s getting…weird,” Hughie commented.

“Fucking pussy,” Ben mumbled to himself.

With the pie cooling on the counter, and with dinner almost ready, you felt your heart beating faster than normal. Was it normal to get this nervous about anniversaries? To you, it felt like another day with Ben, but that’s not the way your heart and stomach was making you feel.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you almost didn’t recognize yourself as you dawned red lipstick, and a matching shirtwaist dress you had borrowed from your Nan. But you couldn’t help but wonder what his reaction was going to be as this was something he’d never seen you in before. Yes, he’d seen you dress up a handful of times, but it was in a modern style of dress — sweetheart and plunging necklines with a slit riding up the thigh; not this style which was something he hadn’t seen in decades.

You smiled though, thrilled with your appearance despite the nerves you were feeling. Your hair perfectly styled similar to that of Rosie the Riveter and deep red lipstick that was in a similar shade to your dress. The last thing to complete the look were pearls — your mothers specifically.

Finally covered in a thin layer of blood, sweat, and ash, the mission was finally over, and a huge sigh of relief washed over Ben. In just a few short hours, he would finally be home to his girl. “Fucking finally,” he said, mainly to himself, as he placed his gun back into his holster.

He looked over to his left, and Hughie was standing there with ripped clothes, he too covered in a thin layer of sweat, blood, and ash, holding a gun with his usual slightly constipated look on his face.

As Ben was about to walk away, as he didn’t really want to wait up for Hughie, he sighed, knowing that you’d want him to ask how he was doing in this moment, although he couldn’t give two fucks. “Hey,” he said, and Hughie looked over at him. “You good?” He asked.

The look on Hughie’s face changed; it was no longer the look of constipation, but slight annoyance. “Am I good?” He asked, his hands falling to his sides; the gun slightly hitting him in the leg. “What part of — yeah. I’m fine. Just, just peachy.” His tone radiating sarcasm.

“Awesome,” Ben grinned, giving him a thumbs up as he started walking away; being careful not to trip over any debris. “You comin’ or what?” He called out, as soon as he left the room. “I ain’t gonna be late because of you.”

Hughie’s face changed again to that of a puzzled one. “Late for what?” He asked, but quickly shook his head. “Actually, don’t fucking answer that because you’ll probably say something disgusting.” A loud, booming laugh from Ben could be heard down the hall in response.

As you sat on the couch watching tv, your nerves were starting to get the best of you again, and you were beginning to second guess your decision in wearing this outfit. You thought that it would be a special surprise for him to see you dressed like this, since it was something you usually didn't wear, but at the same time, maybe he wouldn't even notice or care. You weren't entirely sure if it was because he was a guy, or because he's been around such a long time, that he'd seen and done everything, and there was nothing that remotely fazed him at this point in his life.

Staring at the door, you got startled suddenly from the sound of your phone ringing. There was a small part of you that hoped it was Ben, but it was your Nan. Taking a deep breath to collect yourself, you answered the phone. "Hi Nan, how are you?"

"Hi Sweetheart. Has Ben seen you yet? How'd he like the pie?" She asked, her voice sweet.

"Ben's not home yet, but he should be home soon," you told her.

"Okay dear. Well, can you tell him hi and give him a big kiss for me? I always thought he was so handsome back in the day. He still very much is. Aged like a fine wine," she chuckled to herself. "But don't tell your grandfather," she chuckled again.

"Yes, I'll tell him hi and kiss him for you," you said, quietly laughing to yourself. "You know he's always happy to hear from you," which was the truth. He was always happy to humor her and reminisce about the good old days, even if he had heard some of her stories numerous times before.

As you heard the door unlock, you smiled widely. "Nan, I have to go. Ben just walked in," you said.

"Okay Sweetheart. Happy Anniversary!" She said happily. "Don't do anything I wouldn't," she chuckled again, before the two of you hung up the phone. There's not a lot of things Ben wouldn’t do, you thought.

"Fuck it's good to be home," Ben said, walking into the house and placing his shield next to the door. "I swear, your friends are getting worse at their jobs somehow, cause I probably would have been home fucking sooner if — Fuck, look at you." He finally looked up now, and you were standing there in an outfit that he had never once seen on you. It was something that he hadn't seen in decades in fact; and the biggest grin appeared on his face.

You didn’t move a muscle toward him, but he heard your heart beating like a jackrabbit. The sounds of his heavy boots walked across the floor toward you. “Do you like?” You asked, and you gave him a small spin; the dress slightly flowing as you did so. “Thought I’d do something special. Different.” You smiled, practically beaming with excitement. He wondered what the occasion was.

“Haven’t seen one of these in fucking decades,” he said, slightly reminiscing with a grin. He looked you over, eyeing you up and down, one of his fingers hooking into the belt loop of the dress. “What’s the occasion?” Your once beaming smile slowly faded into a frown. “What?”

“You seriously don’t know?” You asked, your voice slightly irritated sounding. He hadn’t had the foggiest idea what made today so special, other than you dressing differently than you normally did.

He looked at your face, trying to obtain some kind of hint, but he had no clue. But your heart was racing faster now. You were pissed — and he didn’t fucking understand why. “No, I really fucking don’t,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me? I’m not a fucking mind reader Princess.”

You let out a huge huff, rolling your eyes at him. As much as he thought you were cute when you were pissed, he didn't like it when you pissed at him. "Un-fucking-believable," you said, pulling away from him.

"What?" He asked, still in utter disbelief.

"Your favorite fucking dinner is on the fucking table along with your favorite fucking pie. I'm going to bed," you said, your voice angry as you stormed off into the bedroom, slamming the door. Two seconds later, the door opened again. "You're sleeping on the couch tonight," you told him, and slammed the door again, promptly locking it behind you.

You knew the lock wouldn't be able to keep Ben out, as he'd be able to bust open the door with barely any effort; but you knew he wouldn't remotely try to come into the room, as he knew not to come in when you locked it — thankfully, he was starting to understand boundaries.

You couldn’t help but be angry, upset, and frustrated. But at the same time, you weren’t remotely surprised that he didn’t remember. It was something that neither one of you initially wanted to make a big deal about, but between this being your longest relationship, and the last person he celebrated an anniversary with gave him up to the Russians, you figured why not make this day special after all?

It took everything you could to hold back the tears as you started to remove your makeup; feeling like it was an utter waste of time. It didn't take you that long to do this, but you went through some effort looking up tutorials online to try and be as 1950s authentic as possible, even asking your Nan for tips on how she used to do her own.

The mascara started running down your face, as you tried your best to scrub it off. But it was barely getting removed, which only frustrated you more. You pounded the dresser, and let out a muffled sounding scream.

A small knock came at the door a few seconds later. "Sweetheart, you okay?" Ben asked, and you scoffed.

"Fuck you," was the only response you could muster up in the moment.

"Ouch," you heard him mumble. "Can we...talk?" His voice hesitant.

"No. Just leave me alone Ben," you said, and you could hear sadness in your voice.

You heard him let out a frustrated sigh. "Alright," and the sound of his heavy boots walked away from the door. He sounded frustrated too.

As Ben ate his dinner that you had made for him (his favorite no less), he tried to figure out why you were so unbelievably pissed at him to the point that you refused to talk to him. Yes, he’d seen you pissed numerous times (either at him or about something else), but you’d never been so pissed to the point that you’d completely shut him out — and that terrified him.

Like usual, he started going down the list of things that he knew pissed you off: not taking his boots off in the house, tracking mud into the kitchen, getting blood on the furniture, doing coke on the kitchen table, crushing Bennie’s on the marble bathroom counter. Maybe it was the boot thing? Yeah, it had to be, he thought.

As you lied in bed staring up at the ceiling, you sighed heavily, wanting more than anything to unlock the door and invite Ben to come in and cuddle with you. It had been almost a week since you’d last saw him, and you just wanted to feel his skin against yours. But you didn’t want to give in — you earned the right to be pissed, even if it wasn’t particularly fair to be, since you agreed not to make it a big deal. Then again, he did forget your anniversary.

You heard a knock at the door again, and you sighed an annoyed sigh. “Go away,” you said.

“I think I know why you’re pissed at me,” Ben said. Your eyes lit up, and you sat up straight in bed, eager for him to say Happy Anniversary. A smile formed on lips, waiting. “I forgot to take my boots off when I came into the house,” and then your smile faded.

“Fucking Christ,” you mumbled, falling into the bed again to stare up at the ceiling.

“Is that a no?” Ben questioned.

“That’s a no,” you responded, annoyed.

“Son of a Fuck,” you heard him mumble, as he walked away from the door again.

As Ben sat on the couch flipping through channels, he continued to think about what you could possibly be this pissed about if it wasn’t the boot thing. Women are so fucking complicated, he thought. Weren’t this fucking complicated back in my day.

He stared at the couch, sighing in annoyance as he didn’t want to be sleeping here tonight. He wanted to sleep in bed with you; something he had been looking forward to the entire week he had been away from you. He looked forward to holding you close, and making you feel safe, tracing patterns on your bare back like you did to him. He honestly didn’t know what he was going to do if he didn’t figure out why you were mad; because he loathed when you were mad at him. It was a time that made him feel the most unease and insecure, and he was rarely insecure and uneasy.

Ben hadn’t known you for long, but you had managed to somehow worm your way quickly into his heart. You were someone he felt a strange connection to the moment he laid his eyes on you; and you were the one person that made him feel safe and loved. You were the only one that he felt he could be his true self around.

He thought of ways in which maybe you could forgive him, and started working on those; one of them being washing the dishes from his dinner even though he preferred you to do it. But he hoped that maybe this small gesture would help in his favor. Maybe I can go down on you? He thought. You always forgive me after that. Then again, I don’t let you come until you do…

As he made his way back into the kitchen, he stopped dead in his tracks, as he noticed something on the calendar that for some reason, he hadn’t noticed previously. Today’s date was circled with a single sentence written in your handwriting: 1 Year Anniversary.

“Fuck,” he said to himself. “I forgot our fucking anniversary.”

Ben stared at the circled date on the calendar, mentally cursing himself because he had forgotten it by accident. It was a day that he meant to remember, and even repeated over and over again while they were heading to the mission. But because it had taken so long to complete, it left his mind, because it had become entirely mission focused.

You’re never going to fucking forgive me, he thought. This was how he was going to lose you. Panic started to set in for him, realizing that he might have to live the rest of his miserable existence without you; and that was something he couldn’t bear the thought of. Ben didn’t need a lot of things, but he knew that he needed you.

Tossing and turning, you were having a hard time trying to fall asleep. You wanted Ben to be lying next to you right now, caressing your hair, and feeling his rapid heartbeat. It was simple moments like those that you enjoyed most with him; because sometimes you would forget all the awful and horrible things both of you had done in order to meet and to get to this point. If Grace hadn’t recruited you, you would have never met the love of your life.

The love of your life: now that was a sentence you never thought you’d ever equate to Soldier Boy. He was someone you grew up having a crush on since you and your father had watched his movies on repeat to the point you had to buy another VHS tape because you’d worn it out. He was someone you wished you could have met because he was always your favorite (partially because he was also your dad’s favorite).

But he was a Supe, and you had told yourself that you’d never end up with one after what had happened to your uncle, but here you were, dreaming of spending the rest of your life with one.

You sighed heavily, and ended up on your back again. A knock came at the door again, and you turned to face it. “I forgot our anniversary, and I’m sorry,” Ben said, and you cocked a brow. His words seemed genuine, and hurt at the same time. “I tried to remember; I really did but…the mission took full focus.” You heard him sigh, and you knew how hard this was for him, as apologizing was something he wasn’t particularly good at, since Vought basically taught him to never apologize for anything. “I don’t want to lose you over this. I….fuck,” he mumbled. “Can you please open the door so I can look at you?”

He heard you getting up out of the bed, slightly sighing. He could hear your heartbeat, and it was music to his ears despite the rapidness of it. He heard you unlocking it, his nerves starting to show as he tapped the wall next to the door.

You opened it up gently and stared at him through the crack of it. Your eyes slightly puffy from crying. He felt his heart drop, hating that he was the one that had made you cry — he never wanted to be the one responsible for that. “Sweetheart,” he began. “I know I fucked up.”

“Did you actually remember, or did you look at the calendar?” You asked him, your voice barely audible even to him.

“I looked at the calendar,” he admitted. “But to be fair, I really did try and fucking remember. You can ask your friend. I was saying the date on repeat, and then the mission got in the way 'cause they weren’t doing their fucking jobs properly.”

“Hughie can back that up?” You asked, and he nodded. He hoped that you wouldn’t ask him, because he wasn’t sure if he would actually corroborate his story or just fuck him over.

“He fucking hates me, I know he wouldn’t back me up,” Ben added. “I make fun of him too much. But it’s hard not to, I mean look at him.”

“I’m not going to break up with you if that’s what you’re worried about,” you said, hopefully reassuring him. Because even though he gave off the attitude that he didn’t need anyone or anything, you knew you were the only person he needed. You were the one person Ben could rely on no matter what; and you couldn’t bear the thought of what would happen if something bad had happened to you, or if your relationship ever ended.

“I don’t like it when you hate me,” he whispered. “You’re the one person I couldn’t bear to have hate me.”

“I don’t hate you Ben,” you said, reassuring him again. “I could never hate you.”

“Even if I killed Hughie?” He asked, slight teasing in his voice. But you gave him the look, and his teasing smile quickly faded. “Right. He’s off limits.” His hands finally went up in the air, as if he was surrendering. “I’d never kill him, don’t worry. I don’t actually mean it.”

“I wanted to do something special for you, even though we agreed not to make it a big deal because I figured this was a milestone for the both of us. You’re the longest relationship I’ve ever had, and the last person you celebrated an anniversary with gave you to the Russians.”

“I gave her a fucking diamond necklace too,” he mumbled.

“Ben,” you began.

“Sorry, sorry. Look, I want to make it up to you,” he said. “Let me start by —”

“Going down on me?” You questioned, cocking a brow.

“Well…yeah…I mean, don’t you like when I go down on you?” He asked.

“Yeah of course, but I was kind of hoping for something else than the usual way,” you confessed.

“Like what? Me saying I love you or something?” He asked.

“Don’t say it just because you think that’s what I want to hear. I want you to say it because you actually mean it.” It was three little words you had longed to hear for a while. And even though he had said it, he said it in a way of a question, because he thought it was words that would make this situation all better; almost like putting a band-aid on a huge gash.

“You know how I feel about you. I thought it was obvious when I first saw you,” he said. “When I first saw you, I thought you were a fucking knockout. I mean, I pictured you sucking and bouncing on my cock so many times before you actually did.”

“If that was supposed to sound romantic, it failed,” you said; barely humoring him in the moment.

He sighed, slightly rolling his eyes. “What I’m trying to say is, I may not be perfect, but there are five things that I know. Numbers one to three, I love your boobs, ass, and pussy. Number four, you’re the only person I ever fucking need in my life, and five, I love you. And I’m not just fucking saying that. I really fucking do. And you know how fucking hard that is for me to say cause the last person I said I love you to was a fucking bitch.”

Ben looked at your face, trying to find any hint of what you may be thinking. But he didn’t have the foggiest idea. All you did was stare at him with those big eyes of yours, looking at him like a lost puppy. “You said it,” you whispered, almost in disbelief. “You actually fucking said it…Ben…”

That’s when you wrapped his arms around him, finally feeling your small embrace. A grin formed on his face as he wrapped his arms around you in response. It felt nice to say it to you and say it to someone that he knew actually appreciated him. He let you see another side of him, a side that he would never let anyone besides you see. “Can I go down on you now?” He asked, speaking into your hair. You let out a small laugh, and felt you nod into his chest.

Without a second going by, he picked you up and slung you over his shoulder, happily bringing you into the bedroom.

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