#why do i have to wait for other people to catch up to me?

[samgirl98]

Dammit Clockwork! A Little Warning Next Time?

Wrote this while bored at work and on my iPhone so its not my best

“Come in,” a voice said at the other side of the door. Danny took a deep breath to calm his nerves. It was just his new boss. What's the worst that could happen? He'd get fired and have to find a new job.

Of course, being in Gotham, finding a job that wasn't Wayne Enterprise would be hard, especially one that offered such a sweet deal, like the scholarship and health benefits he would receive. So, no, Danny couldn't screw this up.

Danny didn't know why the CEO wanted to meet the scholarship recipients/ new employees one-on-one, but who was he to question it? After all, rich people were weird.

Danny took one last deep breath and swallowed his nerves. Everything would be fine.

He entered and came face-to-face with Tim Drake, CEO of WE.

They stared at each other for all of five seconds before Mr. Drake jumped over his desk.

Danny gave an embarrassing shriek as he fell to the ground hard. Ow, that hurt! To be fair, though, what else was he supposed to do when tackled by someone who could be his twin? Or a clone.

Well, maybe biting him hadn't been a good idea.

Danny heard a hiss above him as he bit down harder. There was no way in the Infinite Realms he would let go anytime soon. If this was a clone sent to kill him, Danny had to protect himself. Then he could worry about deprogramming him.

The look-alike tried to shake off Danny, causing him to bite down even harder.

And things had just started calming down, too.

His parents had kicked him out after they found out he was Phantom. He had been homeless on his eighteenth birthday, but honestly, being homeless and not vivisected was better than what he thought was going to happen.

Thankfully, the trio and Jazz had made a plan in case Danny had to run away from his parents. Sam had opened a bank account for Danny with a little over twenty thousand dollars. He was lucky he didn't have to use the fake IDs Tucker had set up. His parents had let him take his papers.

Which was how he found out he was adopted.

Danny had talked to the air in the little motel room he had ended up that night, begging for help from Clockwork. Danny didn't know if Clockwork had pitied him, but the Ancient had appeared. Clockwork had given Danny a vague clue about family in Gotham—Oh, the guy he was wrestling was probably the family he was hinted at.

Dammit, Clockwork, couldn't he have warned Danny?

Danny let go of Tim Drake.

Who was Drake to him? A sibling, a twin?

Danny didn't know yet.

Tim Drake was about to attack again when Danny put his hands up in surrender.

“Wait, wait!”

The other teenager stopped. Tim was breathing hard from the little impromptu fight they had been in.

Danny was glad that his half-dead status made it hard for him to have to catch his breath. It was impossible to run out of breath when one didn't have to breathe technically.

“Who are you,” the other boy asked.

“Fenton! Danny Fenton. I’m the new hire?”

Danny hated that the last sentence came out as a question.

“You bit me!”

“And you tackled me! Now that we have that out of the way, you're not a clone, are you,” Danny asked warily. After all, that wasn't out of the realm of possibilities for him.

“What? No! I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Why would a rich CEO be afraid of cloning,” Danny asked.

“Why would a small-town guy from the middle of nowhere America be afraid of cloning,” Tim fired back.

“Touche,” Danny said.

Neither of them said anything. They stared at each other until Danny broke the awkward silence.

“So, what now?”

“Now we take a DNA test and try to figure out what the hell is going on.”

“Ahh, I'm adopted and was told by mystical means that I have family in Gotham and was going to find them ‘when the time was right.’ I'm guessing now is that time.”

“That explains nothing,” Tim said in a hysteric voice. “What do you mean mystic means, and could you be more vague?”

Danny shrugged again, “Welcome to my world.”

A few hours later, through rich guys' means, Danny Fenton and Tim Drake had a piece of paper confirming they were twins.

Well, Danny’s afterlife just got interesting.

Later, Tim is going to feel pissed that Damian respects Danny but still treats Tim like crap.

They both try to hide their heroic tendencies from each other and fail miserably. Jason bonds with Danny over dying and death jokes. Danny also has to fight off Bruce with a broom. No, he doesn't want to get adopted again.

Sam and Tucker are laughing at Danny’s predicament and Jazz gives Tim the equivalent of a shovel talk not to hurt her baby brother or else.

DPXDC Prompt #131

Danny started his new job at Wayne industries today and he was a little nervous about messing up. His adopted family the Fentons kicked him out after finding out he was Phantom. Danny was a little disappointed but it was better than how he thought they’d react. He knew he had other family and from what little cryptic Clockwork told him they lived in Gotham.

He gets to his new bosses office and knocks on his door. When he’s told to come in Danny does so but then comes face to face by what he can only assume is his twin and the CEO of the company, Tim Drake. Danny had about 5 seconds before he found himself pinned to the floor.

[theseeingfawn]

Chapter 9: The Hills Have Eyes Part 1

Summary:

Here is a short little smutty tease chapter for you lovely readers.   “Live dangerously and you live right” Goethe

Azriel

I have never wanted to kill someone more. Closing my eyes l force myself to calm down and take a deep breath. My heart rate slows, time suddenly shifting as if I have minutes instead of seconds to think this through. Realistically it's just the adrenaline sharpening my senses. I've always been at my best during a crisis. With Elain Archeron panting underneath me, and my ill tempered brother pounding on the door, this certainly qualifies as one.

There are so many ways this can go wrong but the only thing that matters is protecting Elain. 

I look down and see panic flash in those soft brown eyes. A sick demented part of me is turned on by the spark of fear I see there. I pang of need shoots through.  I;m intrigued to know how buttoned up, perfect sweet Elain would react when caught red handed. 

I stay exactly where I am, opting to relish the fleeting feeling of the press of my body into hers. She's soft and supple beneath me. I know I should move but I just don’t want to. No reasonable man would. 

Rhys’ impatient fist pounds into the door again, “Damnit, Azriel I know you’re in there.”

I fight back a smirk, something about pissing him off pleases me. Maybe it’s some psychological need to get back at his father through him. Maybe I just like being one of the only people who isn't afraid to piss him off. I can’t really be sure.  

I turn back to Elain, “Listen to me, you are going to go out my window and sneak into the sunroom. Got it?” She nods frantically, all the while my hand is still pressed firmly against her mouth. “Good girl.” I whisper and kiss her forehead just because I can. “I’ll take care of Rhys.”

I reluctantly drag myself off Elain and pull her to her feet. I take her soft hand and lead her to the window. I help her out, advising on the best way to descend the drain pipe. But to my surprise she is as sure footed as she is nimble making her way down. She’s just full of surprises.

Turning back to the door, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I hardly recognize the man I see there. He looks softer, almost happy. His pants are also fully tented, yeah that's a problem. I close my eyes, picturing the time I caught Cass experimenting with at home waxing which fixes that problem. As it always does and always will. I suppress a shudder.  The pounding at my door resumes and I resign myself to tackling the other problem.

I open the door calmly as if I hadn’t heard Rhys this whole time. He barrels through the door, his eyes searching for someone who is clearly not here. “Where is she?” he demands. I fight back a smirk, “Who?”

I watch as he slowly turns to face me, a look of pure rage that would rival my own as he says, “You. Know. Who.” Each one word syllable punctuated with malice. I furrow my brow in feigned confusion, “I honestly don’t know what you are on about.”

He huffs at me and bites out, “ Elain .”  

“Why would she be in here?” I ask innocently. 

“That’s an interesting question, why don’t you give me some ideas?” He retorts. 

“Because you are imagining things?” I say growing bored of this situation. 

“I know you had her in here. I know the two of you have been sneaking around. The others may buy that you both happen to have secret lovers that coincidentally are not each other, but I don’t.”

I refuse to respond, I just patiently wait for him to keep talking. The quiet unsettles him as he waits for a rebuttal that doesn’t come. 

He sighs, “Damnit Azriel, where is she?”

“I presume she is downstairs, where you last saw her.” He closes his eyes in annoyance. 

“You are to stay away from her, Azriel.” I tense at his order. 

“You can’t tell me to do that.” I snap back at him. 

“I just did and if you were smart you would want to stay away.” He rubs his brow, “Your job is dangerous.”

“You think I would put her in danger?” I ask, unable to help myself. 

“It's the very nature of what you do. You can’t even be honest with her about what you really are. You can’t reveal you're actually a Fed and maintain your cover with the criminal underground.” 

I bristle at his words, “I’ve told you. I don’t hide it from Cass or Mor.” I add feeling the cold bitterness of reality hitting me. 

He gives me a bewildered look, “The three of us have ties to your past, ties to some element of organized crime. But Elain has no connections. You will always have to hide her from what you do and what you do from her. She will ask questions you can’t answer and what happens if the Attors find out about her?”

“I’ll kill them,” I state without hesitation. 

“I know,”  he says sympathetically . “And you doing so will destroy everything you’ve worked for. It will jeopardize your relationship with the FBI and compromise your assets in the field.”

I shake my head, not wanting to hear what he’s saying. Not wanting to hear the truth. 

“So, you’ll stay away from her,” his tone final. I turn to walk out of the room when he adds, “because you were right to worry about Kier.”

I stop dead in my tracks and turn to look at my brother who collapses to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“What do you mean?” 

He lets out a long breath more rattled than I’ve ever seen him, “I looked closer at his books after our little chat and noticed a few discrepancies. At first I thought it was an accidental transfer to an old account but I started to notice a pattern. Every three weeks he deposits $25,000 in an offshore account.”

I nod. “The account is tied to an old LLC that my father used to own so I didn’t think much of it until a new transfer came in right at three weeks. I did some digging and found an old ledger with Hybern’s name on it.”

I freeze, sensing where this is going. “Kier has been working with Hybern? With the Attors?” 

He nods, “I think so.”

“Send me what you have and I'll do some intel.” I turn to walk away again. 

Before I can leave he adds, “You will stay away from her or I'll make you regret it.”

I freeze in the doorway. I know if I turn around my face will reveal everything I have tried so hard to conceal. He can't know what she means to me. If he did he would be even more alarmed. 

“I'll go to Devlon and tell him about your other activities… the ones you hide from the FBI.” The pang of betrayal hits me deep in the chest. My own brother no less. “If you need to fuck someone, find a biker chick at Amarantha’s or one of your underground hole in the walls. You aren't… ”

Before he can finish the sentence I'm barreling down the stairs and out the front door of the townhouse. I don’t stop to see if Elain made it back to the group. I can’t bear the thought of seeing her right now. 

I walk for what feels like hours before I'm level headed enough to go back to the townhouse. By the time I return everyone is gone. I take a look at the information Rhy left for me, deciding to focus on work as a distraction. 

From the looks of it, Rhys is right. Kier has been working with Hybern. So, I call Devlon to inform him. We come up with a way to fold Kier into the gun smuggling scheme and continue on with our plan. 

By the time the sunsets my mind goes back to Elain. I didn't even get the chance to tell her a proper goodbye. The thought of cutting all contact with no explanation after nearly fucking her in my room doesnt sit right. She deserves better than that. She deserves so much more than I can give her. If Rhys was right about anything, it was that. 

She deserves to hear from me that our little arrangement is over face to face. Even if I'm not allowed to be with her I will still have to be around her and I don't want to make it any harder on her than it needs to be. I resign myself to the conversation I have to have with her. 

I slip into the night and walk the few short blocks it takes to get to Petals. The walk gives me some time to mull over my words so that I can make this as painless as possible. I'm confident she’ll be able to move on. But, if I've learned anything from my years of pining for Mor, it's that once I’ve formed an attachment there is no going back. This is it for me. 

The shop is dark and closed up for the night. The faint smell of baked bread lingers around the front providing a modicum of comfort. I walk around the back and see the faint glow from her second story apartment window. The one I've gotten far too used to sneaking in to. A pang of nostalgia hits me as I realize this will be the last time. 

I pull myself up the lattice and push on the window. It opens easily and I'm able to slip in. The first thing I notice is the smell of sugar and lemons, a freshly baked pie sits on the counter cooling. I look around searching for Elain expecting her to be nearby given the state of the pie but her place is quiet. I call out to her softly, “Elain are you here? We need to talk.”

I hear nothing but the gentle sounds of the end of summer. The hymn of grasshoppers and frogs from the garden below. I debate whether or not she could have slipped out. I wrack my brain trying to think of where she could be. It’s not the right day for the knitting circle and her girls nights are typically here. Maybe she is at the store or with Lucien working on town council bullshit. I sigh, turning back toward the window ready to leave. 

But then I hear her, gently calling my name. “Yes,” I reply as I make my way to the back of her apartment to the only bedroom. Her door is cracked and buttery light spills out on the floor, “Listen, I just -”

My words die on my tongue as my jaw falls open, my eyes taking in the most beautiful sight I've ever witnessed.

A gentle vibration fills the air, and it seems to be coming from the pink object that Elain holds between her lush unblemished thighs spread wide and pressed against her bed. 

And Elain? Is completely naked, her gently curved body is on full display as she writhes from pleasure. Her head is thrown back as she moans desperately. 

“Azriel” she whimpers my name once more. A wave of arousal shoots straight to my cock. The feeling so intense I stumble forward slightly. 

“Holy gods,” I whisper in disbelief. 

Elain's head rolls to the side, eyes hooded, weighed down with lust as she looks around before her gaze finds mine. If she moans my name again I will die on the spot.

But she doesn't, a moment passes and then she screams in horror. That look of panic in her eyes comes back full force and I groan. Her fear only turns me on more. My dick is so hard I feel a bit lightheaded. I let out an uneasy breath because whatever I had planned for tonight is out the window. This, this is so much better. I smirk knowing I think best on my feet. 

Elain

I am frozen to the spot, unable to move. Horrified beyond what I thought possible. Azriel caught me masturbating with a sex toy. My chest is heaving trying to suck in air as my brain reels. Why is he just standing there and oh gods why is he smiling like that? 

“What are you doing here?” I practically shriek knowing full well my voice is two octaves higher than normal. “You can't just sneak into my window like that Azriel! Are you insane?”

His smirk disappears at the sound of my yelling.

I pull the pink sheet snuggly around my body. The vibrator shaking violently in my hand branding me like the harlot I am. I toss it to the side in mortification hoping I can somehow will it to vanish. 

To my horror, it only vibrates louder against the hardwood floor drawing Azriel's full attention to it. His eyes locked on it like it holds the secrets to the universe. 

I clammer off the bed, stepping forward as I snap my fingers in his face. Trying to get him to pay attention to anything else. I can’t watch him gawk at my sex toy any longer. 

I'm going to kill Nuala.

His head turns slowly back to me. “Out! Get out of here! You shouldn't be here... You shouldn’t have kissed me!” I shout at him trying to blame anyone but myself for this situation. 

“You kissed me!” He shouts back at me. His face flush. An uncharacteristic display of emotion form his usually stoic demeanor. He wasn’t expecting me to yell. 

“Impossible!” I say indignantly. How dare he come into my home and accuse me of kissing him. That doesn't sound like something I would do which is exactly what I tell him.

He grits his teeth, “Stop yelling at me.” His flushed cheeks start to fade as his cool mask falls back into place which only makes me more upset. How dare he be calm at a time like this. 

“You saw my vagina!” I screech as the panic escalates. 

“I saw a whole lot more than that sweetheart.” My cheeks burn my palms as I bury my face in my hands, ready to die of embarrassment. 

“Look,” he says in that stupidly calm tone, “I just came here to apologize for earlier when I took certain liberties with you in my room. I got carried away.” 

“Apology accepted,” I say as I grab his impossibly large bicep and try to shove him back toward the window. 

“Okay, but just don't be embarrassed. This is all my fault anyway,” he says guiltily. I nod because this is all his fault.

“Great,” I say as he turns toward the window. I pull the sheet tighter around me, thighs rubbing together spreading my arousal. 

“Wait,” he whispers as he turns around. My heart pounds against my chest as his eyes meet mine. A flash of something dangerous dances amongst the hazel as he takes a step toward me. Then another. My stomach hollows out and I feel my legs start to tremble. “You said my name.”

I gasp, “I did not.” I most assuredly did. Several times. 

“You did.” 

I shake my head, “did not.” Suddenly I feel childish and small in front of his intimidating confidence. 

“ Azriel,” he drags his name out on a moan. A devious smile pulls on those plush lips of his and I slink backward. 

He looks like he is about to devour me whole and I don't think I would put up a fight. I step around the edge of the bed trying to escape in vain.

“You are supposed to be the mature one.” I say defensively. That makes him smile wider. I trip over the edge of my floral comforter and he grabs onto my sheet and pulls me upright. 

His gaze falls back to the pink vibrator that's finally stopped buzzing on the floor. It no doubt lost all of its charge from vigorous use. “Do you need someone to do that for you?” He asks.

“I can do it fine on my own, thanks.” I say with all the grace I can muster at a time like this. 

“Are you sure about that angel Elain. ” He mocks.

How dare he use that nickname. “I kissed you, didn't I?” I say defensively. 

His smile grows wider, “So you admit it? You did kiss me.”

“I,” I wring my hand at my side. “I admit to nothing.”

“That's too bad,” his chin dips down as his eyes take me in. His tongue sweeps tauntingly over his bottom lip. “Do you remember telling me you want to be bad?”

His grip on the sheet tightens as he pushes me backward. “I'm thinking you heard me come through that window,” he smiles down at me smugly pushing me back a little further. “I think you knew I would come.”

He leans in closer, his hot breath caressing my already overheated skin, “You wanted to be caught.” He tuts and presses me firmly into the wall, “You said my name to lure me in here so I would see this perfect fucking body, didn’t you?” He asks, arrogant as ever. 

Before I get the chance to reply, he continues on, “You wanted it before you told yourself you should fight this feeling. You've been a good, proper girl but you don't want to be her anymore, do you?” 

I shudder because he’s right. I assumed he would seek me out. I had waited for hours for him to come. I even baked a pie to try and distract myself. But, I couldn’t wait. The longer it took the more I got worked up. I couldn’t stop thinking about how delicious it was to have him pressed between my thighs. How positively fiendish I felt when he covered my mouth with his rough hand. Even now the thought of him doing it again has me pressing my thighs together. So, yes I may have decided to take care of things myself. I wasn’t sure he would sneak in but I had hoped he would.

His grin is absolutely devious when he adds, “I want to see who you are when you drop the act and let that wickedness out.”

I’m going to ruin you, is what he said in his bedroom, when he pinned me down on the bed. No one has ever done that to me. Other men, Graysen even, treated me like I was made of glass. But not Azriel. I had touched a nerve. He didn’t like that I called him out and challenged him. That I saw him. I didn’t censor myself, I let that truth out and oh how I was rewarded. 

Something inside me snaps, I feel practically feral as I tear the sheet from his fist and throw it to the ground, barring myself to him.

“You want me to help you?”

“Azriel.” I whimper, trembling with need, his rough fingers ghost over mine.

“Yeah,” he groans, “Just like that. That’s exactly how you sounded when you moaned my name.” He runs his palm against my cheek savoring the feel of it. 

I bite my lip and lean my head back before closing my eyes. Waiting for him to devour me. But he doesn’t.

Instead I feel the cold air hit my sensitive nipples as he steps away. The swaggering smile is nothing short of pleased as he watches me. 

“I’d hate to misread this situation, though. So, if I’m right, if you want my help...” He rubs his hand across his sharp jaw. “You’ll have to ask nicely.”

A rough sound escapes my throat in protest, and before I can tell myself no to something I want for the millionth time in my life, I launch myself at him. 

I throw myself at his chest and bury my fingers in his hair. He catches me as I wrap my legs around his waist. “Please,” I beg, “please help me.”

He growls and throws me on the bed. Prowling on top of me like the predator he is. 

His eyes take me in, all of me and I feel my arousal pool in my lower belly. 

He curses under his breath as he traces my lips with his finger. “Open.” He commands and I do, eager to please him.

His textured skin glides across my smooth tongue and I moan. He eases his finger back out and I grab on with my teeth, sucking him in deeper. “Fuck,” he growls. I smirk around his finger and tease it with my tongue. He watches, eyes clouded with lust and awe. 

“Are you going to let me take care of you tonight? Because if you keep doing that I won’t be able to help myself. I’ll take what I need.” 

I release his finger, “Yes.” I want him to take what he needs.

He groans desperately, “Fuck, Elain.” 

I quirk an eyebrow at him and he shakes his head in disbelief, “You are going to be the death of me.” I try to stifle my giggle by biting my lower lip and he growls.

He leans down and pulls my lip free as he sucks into his mouth. His tongue sweeps inside, exploring, tasting, taking. The way he kisses is nothing short of possessive, pure hunger as he worships my mouth. He can have it, and any other part of me he wants. I’ve never needed anything or anyone more than I need him. 

“Tell me what you want Elain,” he pants into my mouth. 

“Touch me,” I beg, shaking with desperation. “Please Azriel I… I…”

He slides his hand down my neck and squeezes lightly, “here?” He teases.

Oh gods . I shudder under his touch. His eyes flit back up to mine and it’s obvious he didn’t expect me to like that . He curses again.

He smiles, his free hand moving down to my belly button, “here?” he asks innocently as he swirls his finger along the edge. Goosebumps spread like wildfire down across my needy skin. 

“Please.” I whimper again so so desperately.

His finger skates down in a feather-like tease to my center,  “Here?”

I moan at the slightest friction. “So. Fucking. Wet.”

He releases my neck, tracing my form with his hand as he glides it down my body. He kneels between my legs, grabbing my thighs as he lifts my legs. Taking my ankles into his large hands and props both of my feet on the bed, spreading me wide. 

“Gods Elain, you are just so beautiful,” he says eyes roaming over every inch of me before the land on my bare sex. “Are you going to let me fuck this pussy one day?”

I feel my core clench at his words and a fresh wave of arousal drips down my folds. A low guttural sound catches in his throat at the sight. 

“Even this pussy is begging so sweetly.”

I can’t help it, my legs start to shake, “Yes,” I gasp as I clench around nothing.

His right hand releases my ankle as he runs his finger tips up the sensitive skin of my leg. I quiver with anticipation, nearly crawling out of my skin. 

“Look at you, so needy for me.” Gods, his confidence would be infuriating if it weren’t so damn sexy. If he wasn’t right. 

His hand finally moves to my inner thigh and presses it down firmly. His thumb grazes close to the edge of my arousal. He takes his time before he finally slides his finger along my clit. My back arching off the bed as I moan loudly. 

He does it again, with more pressure and my knees come together as I shudder. He slaps my clit and I cry out from the sudden pleasure of it. “None of that,” he chides, “I want to see you.” I force my shaking legs apart as he strokes me over and over where I need him most. My legs threaten to close again and he forces my right thigh down. 

I’m desperate for more, I want him on top of me, inside me. I need him everywhere and the teasing is driving me insane. “Please,” I beg, not caring how desperate I sound.

His hooded eyes find mine and he shakes his head no. “I’m not done yet.”  

He leans forward and takes my pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucks hard. I cry out, my head pressing back into the mattress as I shove my needy pussy into his hand. He slaps it again and I begin to shake all over. 

“So. Responsive,” he coos as he takes my nipple between his teeth. “Is this why you’re always blushing, sweet girl? You’re always this worked up for me?”

“Yes,” I cry as he skillfully tortures out each little moan from me as he works my breasts and clit at the same time. 

He hums appreciatively, “Not so innocent then? Just a little slut underneath, hmm?”

I gasp at his crudeness at his… at his… oh gods I’m ready to cum. His words send me over the edge. 

But he abruptly pulls back his hand and I groan in frustration. I sit up on my elbows to get a better look at him. Our eyes lock as he brings his hand back between my legs. He notches a finger at my entrance.

“Show me Elain, show me just how bad you are.” I feel the slightest pressure of his finger entering me and I lose it. I grind myself fully down on his finger as if possessed. I rock my hips up and down riding him as I take what I need. 

“God that’s sexy,” he praises me. I feel my pleasure build but it’s not enough. “More,” I demand and he adds another finger. His thick fingers fill me deliciously, adding just the right amount of pressure, like he was made for me. 

My breasts bounce from the force of my movement. His eyes locked on them as he leans forward, licking and sucking at me with desperation. A pang of pleasure shutters through me and I realize I’m so close again. 

My moans coming out as chants as he continues to lavish me with praise. He tells me how wicked I am. How much he loves watching me fuck myself on his hand. That he can’t believe he gets to suck on these perfect tits. I’m so close I cry out his name as he presses his thumb into my clit and I shatter. 

He watches enraptured before he kisses me and I wrap my arms around him and draw him closer. We kiss until the aftershocks of my orgasam pass. Until my lips are swollen from his  gentle nips and teasing licks.

He tenderly pulls the wayward tendrils of hair from my face and buries his face into my neck and inhales deeply. 

Azriel

I’m buried in Elain’s neck and everything is so Godsdamned perfect. Her scent is so intoxicating that I feel half drugged. The sound of her screaming for me is still ringing in my ears like church bells. Her delicate fingers tease the ends of my hair making me tingle all over. For the first time in my life my head is completely quiet.

“Azriel?” I hear her angelic voice calling to me.

I muffled “Hmm?” comes out as I press my face further into her neck. Her soft hair tickles my nose but I don’t care. 

“Don’t you…” I hear her sigh, I force myself away from my favorite part of her.

“Don’t I?” I ask, confused. Her rosy cheeks tell me she is feeling shy again. A filthy thought more like. I know her too well to think she’s just being coy now. 

She points to my cock which is harder than steel and pressing against her like a helpless kitten. Just the thought of her wanting to touch it makes it twitch against my stomach. 

“You want to touch it, baby? Want to make me feel good?” I ask. She gives a nod as she rubs those shapely thighs together. Fuck me .

I lean forward and bury my face between the perkiest tits I’ve ever seen. I kiss my way to each one showing them each a little love. Leaving little marks so neither one feels left out. They are my friends now, it’s the least I could do. 

I feel her leg slide against my cock and groan. There is nothing, and I mean nothing I want more, than to bury myself in her right now but I won’t. 

I need to figure out this situation between us because after tonight there is no way I am giving her up. Fuck Rhys. Fuck the Attors. Fuck the FBI and Hybern and whoever the hell else stands in my way. I need to solve the problem first then get the reward. I need the incentive. Save something for later the rational part of my brain argues.

I also know, based on my recent experience with my hand, that I’ll blow my load in an embarrassingly short amount of time. I nearly did at least four times tonight and I’ve pictured Cass so many times in these kinds of scenarios that it’s starting to have the opposite effect. I shake my head. What the hell am I thinking? 

I grudgingly pull myself away from her chest and hate myself a little more. 

“As much as I would love that, I think we need to talk about what happened earlier.”

She sits up, making no effort to cover myself to my horror and delight.

“Earlier?” She asks with those big gorgeous doe eyes drinking me in like the last thing she wants to do is talk. 

“Yes sweetheart, with Rhys.” Her nose scrunches up and I see the desire slip from her eyes. 

She stands and walks out of the room, her heart shaped ass swaying. I say a silent prayer for strength as I follow after her. 

I watch as she prepares a tea kettle and motions for me to sit at the table. So, she is going to serve me naked. Fucking perfect. 

“What happened with Rhys?” she asks as she takes tea cups and saucers off her open shelving. She has to stand on her tip toes and bend over the counter to get them, a nightmare really. 

“He knows about us.” I say, I'm too distracted to temper my words. 

She turns to me startled, “He does?”

“Yes, though I didn’t confirm it outright. He told me to stay away from you.”

Her eyes flicker with rage for half a second before the emotion is gone. Replaced instead with annoyance. “He is worse than Feyre.”

I snort, “You have that right.”

“So, what now?” 

“Do you want to end this?” I ask gesturing between us. 

She purses her lips, “Of course not, do you?”

I chuckle, “After that?” I say tilting my head back to her bedroom, “I’m just getting started with you.” 

Her back is turned but I see her hand brace the countertop. She slowly looks at me over her shoulder and I know she isn’t done with me either. 

“So, what was his objection?” 

“My job mostly, but I think he doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.” I say truthfully. 

She turns to me fully and walks over and sits on my lap, “You are good Azriel, anyone would be lucky to have you. I’m just glad it gets to be me.”

My cold heart melts with her sweet words. “No one deserves you Elain, no one.”

She tries to object but I silence her with a kiss. I keep my hands on her face because if they touch her anywhere else I won't be able to stop. 

I pull away and rest my forehead against hers. “He is right about my job. It’s dangerous and as much as I wish it weren’t the case, you being connected with me puts you in danger. I can’t have that. Do you understand?”

She nods. “Good, we will just need to be more careful moving forward. Avoid any tempting situations.” I look down at where her still wet pussy is pressed against my cock. The wily little minx is smiling at me when I look back up. 

“No, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” She teases as she gets up. Mother save me .

I clear my throat, “You’re not going to ask about my job?” I ask, curious that she hasn’t brought it up. 

“No, you’ve told me you can’t talk about it and I trust you.” She says as if it’s that simple. Gods how I wish it were. 

“I need to figure some things out but I hope that in time I can share more with you. Believe me when I say I wish I could.”

Elain saunters over with the serving tray with our tea and two slices of lemon pie. She serves me still completely bare and I wonder for the hundredth time tonight how on earth I got so lucky. 

“I believe you,” she says softly. “I trust you and we agreed this was our secret from the beginning. Besides, I wouldn’t worry too much about Rhys.”

I smirk at my clever, wonderful Elain, “Why is that?”

“In a few short months he is going to have his hands full.”

[meetmypointlessaddiction]

WIP Wednesday

This isn't even nearly complete or ready to be posted but I just wanted to share it to see what people thought.

Warning: mentions of child abuse

“What did you want Chuck? Let’s skip the chit chat so I can get back home and cut some more wood before it snows again.” Charles smiled at the man in front of him and gestured for them to walk and talk. 

“The team went on a recon mission last week as I’m sure you have been told.” 

“Yeah? So what? I don’t need to be a part of a mission debrief if I wasn’t there.” 

“I am aware of that Logan, however there was something we found on this recon mission. A child, 9 or 10 years old, already showing their mutation and coming from a terrible background.” 

“Don’t we all.” Logan joked and Charles shook his head. 

“This child was abused by their parents for the first 7 years of their life, strict rules to follow, strict punishments, strict timings. The parents kept paying for doctors to find out what was wrong with their child, test after test was performed on such a young body until eventually the child reverted to factory settings.” 

“Factory settings? What does that mean and what does it have to do with me?” Logan asked, not quite following Charles’ explanation. 

“The child is almost military trained in a wall. Yes sir, no ma’am, bedtime at 8, wake up at 6:30. The child simply doesn’t fit in at the school and we don’t want them facing any sort of… well any trouble from the other children. We want them to get used to being treated like an actual child before we bring them back to the school and teach them to control their powers.” Charles explained, waiting for Logan to catch up.

“As touching as your little story time was, bub, I still don’t understand why you’re telling me this.” Logan grumbled, stopping as they reached one of the empty classrooms where Storm was watching over a child. 

“I’d like for you to take the child to your cabin for a while. A nice, quiet life where you can show them the childhood they should have been given, teach them how to behave in a normal setting, allow them to flourish as a human before we try to teach them about their mutant side. Do you understand that, Logan?” 

“With all due respect professor, I ain’t exactly a mother hen. Wouldn’t one of the others be better suited for this?” Charles simply shakes his head, pointing to where you were sitting in the corner, reading, ignoring Storm’s existence. 

“You were in the army. I believe the only way to help the child learn the proper way to act and for them to be able to relax into their role in society and role in a family, they need someone who shows enough dominant characteristics to be able to give into them. Does that make sense?”

[nemiisnemisis]

slight vent: nemi talks ab a teacher edition

frustrated with a teacher bc she told me to stop going ahead of the class during lecture....

IT'S NOT MY FAULT THAT YOUR LECTURE GOES TOO SLOW FOR ME TO THE POINT I GET BORED.

literally wanted to cry in class bc i genuinely enjoyed the class and now it's ruined for me.

so to more healthily channel my frustration, and out of spite, ill be drawing leona while taking notes in her class

it's either this or i just start skipping her class like a couple of my classmates have been doing

it's so disappointing bc this is the 2nd time I'm taking this type of class and ive had bad experiences both times

[superyoshisisland64]

I know these are minor compared to what others are talking about, but the two things that come to mind are 1.her Pokemon video and 2. Her problems with genres.

The Pokemon vid made me so mad when I watched Ant's streams. There were so many points that I had to pause and yell at my phone bc of her terrible takes 😅. I think the thing that annoyed me the most was her hacking in a Ralts, a very weak pokemon and constant whining about the difficulty when they keeps getting KO'd. Maybe Lily, if you played the game as intended, you wouldn't be having this problem.

The fact that she's hacking in a Gardevoir in the first place is also so annoying. Like I get that its your favorite pokemon, but like, c'mon. This is supposed to be a retrospective, shouldn't you play the games as close to intended as possible, so there's no bias? I love Giratina and Wooper, but I'm not hacking them into every game, let alone replacing my starter. I think the most egregious example is in Pokemon X, where Ralts actually is in the game, and pretty early on too. Literally right after the first gym, you can catch a Ralts literally in the first patch of grass you see. It takes, what, 30-45 minutes to get to Route 4. Maybe if she had waited a little bit and actually kept her starter Pokemon and had a Ralts, maybe then she wouldn't have complained about X being difficult. (Side Note: XY are considered one of, if not the easiest mainline game)

It really feels like so many of her complaints in the video come down to two things, 1. the fact that she just mashes through dialogue and thereby misses important context, to which she then complains about not knowing what's going on, and 2. I think she's just bad at Pokemon. Like watching her gameplay was painful. I'm no MLG Smogon Pro-Gamer™ or anything similar, but it really looks like a lot of her complaints about difficulty could be dealt with if she just played better.

I understand Lily brushes this criticism off as "her playing the game her way" which is perfectly fine, I have no problem with that. However, she the turns around and talks about the difficulty being unbalanced and the devs doing a bad job a the difficulty curve. Lily, you can't blame the devs for poor difficulty balancing bc they didn't think that someone would hack in a Pokemon with the defense stat of tissue paper. I know tons of people who do pokemon challenge runs where they only use one type or just one pokemon, but when ever they face difficult moments, they're not blaming the game designers for not being balanced for a Magikarp only run.

The other thing being her problem with Genres. Lily notoriously despises Shonen, claiming that the genre is just dumb fight scenes (or something similar to that). When someone pointed out that an anime she really likes, Spy X Family, is Shonen she went full denial mode, instead claiming it's a "thriller" instead. Here's the thing, Shonen does not refer to a genre like action or comedy, Shonen describes the age group being targeted by these manga, in Shonen's case 8-18 year old boys. Meaning any genre could be Shonen, action, comedy, romance, etc. So Spy X Family may be a Thriller, but it's still aimed at teenage boys , ergo it's still Shonen. I don't know why she could be like, "I hate Shonen, but Spy X Family is the one exception." Like I dislike strategy games, but I love Project X Zone.

There was also the time she claimed that Pokemon didn't start out as a JRPG, and those elements were added later. I have no idea what she means by this, under the two most common definitions of JRPG is : RPG with turned based combat and/or an RPG coming from Japan, definitions that Pokemon has always fit. She didn't clarify what genre she thinks Pokemon was before the JRPG elements were "added in," the closest thing I was able to come up with was at the beginning of her Pokemon video, she called it an "open-world RPG" which it's hasn't been open world until Scarlett and Violet, (Maybe Legends if we're being generous). The only reason I could think of why she would consider all of Pokemon open world is bc in gen 1 and 2 , there is some slight choice in gym order, but it's like in the mid game, and only 3 of them. And even then, it's still pretty linear. Not to mention, a game can be both open world and a JRPG.

What has Lily said out of everything that's made you irrationally angry?

For me it's this

I'm a writer and it activated my fight or flight, I won't lie, and I'm a flightless bird.

[sesamestreep]

“requiem for methuselah” crazy ass episode for many reasons. Kirk is being fully insane, like I don’t actually think, even controlling for how quickly and easily and readily he seems to fall in love with anybody at the slightest encouragement, that he’d go that bonkers for that android woman he just met while everyone on the ship was this close to dying, but that’s neither here nor there, because in the background you’ve got an equally but much more subtly insane episode for Spock, who extremely uncharacteristically admits to experiencing an emotion (or nearly experiencing, whatever) and that emotion is ENVY of all things. And then spends the rest of the episode warning Kirk away from this new love interest (something that doesn’t usually happen, even when Kirk has very inadvisable love interests) and is, in the end, the person who accurately identifies that Rayna’s competing love for Kirk and Flint is ultimately what overwhelms and destroys her with the most killer line in maybe history???

And then to wrap it up we get an equally uncharacteristic sort of denouement scene (TOS loooves to cut an episode off right after the actual climax, leaving little time for falling action or character reflection, or to stick a sitcom-y button on the end where the gang all smiles and laughs at their misadventures and everything resets to zero, which is not a criticism, it’s just the style of that era of tv, honestly) where Kirk is literally miserable over Rayna’s death (again, kind of unusual for a lot of his love interests, he tends to be able to move on pretty quickly) and Spock goes to see him and he falls asleep right in front of Spock (also odd) and then when Bones comes in to give the final word on Flint, Spock waves him off from waking the Captain (tender) and Bones gives him that awful speech about how it’s sadder that Spock can’t even imagine the love Kirk felt for this random android woman than it is that Kirk lost her in the first place (debatable but also rude) and how his great tragedy is that he can’t love at all like they can and how all he wishes is that Kirk could forget about all of this and move on. AND THEN, to have Bones leave and Spock go over to Kirk and very gently, tenderly, reluctantly touch him and put his hand to his forehead and tell him to forget and HAVE THAT BE THE END OF THE EPISODE??? What am I supposed to do with that??

[nostalgia-tblr]

It's time for me to admit something.

I am still a bit confused about how back in the beginning of the Loki series Mobius is introduced to us as "special[ising] in the pursuit of dangerous Variants." But like. That doesn't seem to be a thing that the TVA really... do? They mostly seem to spot nexus events and pop to the new branch and prune it, bringing back the person who caused that nexus event to give them a show-trial and then prune them too.

There's no reason they can't do more than one thing, but what exactly are "dangerous variants"? From the TVA perspective they're all equally troublesome, and they'll be picked up as soon as they do something 'wrong', and the TVA/HWR don't actually care about the moral value or otherwise of that 'wrong' thing. Have I got that right?

They're chasing Sylvie but a) she's targeting the TVA themselves and b) she's got a means to travel from one timeline to another, which she got from the TVA and unless those get stolen a lot..

I'm willing to just roll with it anyway if it doesn't really fit but what am I missing here? EXPLAIN. (pls?)

[anotherpapercut]

I know several people who like LOVE seasons 5-7 (11th doctors run) and think the storylines and moffats writing are brilliant and I don't get it!!! what am I missing??? why does literally every single episode have the exact same stakes: Rory/Amy/the doctor is dead. forever. so dead. but wait!!! what if they aren't!!! why do so many of the explanations for why they're not actually dead feel so rushed like they were added at the last minute!! why does every single queer character act kind of weird and awkward about being queer!! why does the doctor casually say that women are inferior when no one's around!!! what the fuck!! hello!!!

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Do you ever listen to someone speak and marvel at how smooth, free-flowing, and free of pauses it is?

Because I sure do. I can’t do that.

Maybe that’s why I feel like most people’s speech is insincere even when it isn’t… because it sounds like how I would recite or read a script. That explains why I view people who aren’t native English speakers, have a heavy accent, and take long pauses to think of the words they need to say as being more trustworthy… because my cadence is similar to theirs; and we both stumble over words.

[katyspersonal]

[ratatatastic]

there is something so special about self fulfilling prophecies

[dockaspbrak]

reading a magazine because. well i never do that and i think its a strange activity. I think its funny how behind traditional print is from social media, but instead of going its own way this magazine is chasing trends. also like - I wonder what the split is for people who genuinely take pleasure in doing things to do them versus being seen doing them? I don't think it's that shameful to get caught up in the second...its like...indulgent. but i love indulgence

[your-internet-bf]

Thinking about showing everyone what a whore you are.

Hanging out with friends, everyone is having a good time, you're sitting next to me on the couch. I turn to the group and say, "hey, watch this." I look you in the eyes and tell you to spread.

Obediently, you open your legs for the whole party to see, smiling so prettily at me. Just the way I trained you. Everyone's laughing, but you're so drunk, you don't really understand why.

I reach a hand between your legs, rubbing so sweetly, and say to everyone else, "come on, come feel how wet she is!"

So our friends gather around, chuckling and teasing as they all lean in to feel you for themselves. I rest one hand on top of your head - you're doing so well for me.

Your whole body is suffused with warmth, now. From the booze and weed, sure, but there's another warmth, isn't there, building inside you. You barely even notice as I help you out of your clothes, but you certainly notice when my cock slaps down on your tummy.

"Hey, wait," you laugh, and as your mouth opens fingers find their way inside. They're not mine. You aren't sure whose they are. There's a raw attitude building in the room, and more and more hands are on you every second, more lips, more probing fingers.

With a jolt, you feel me push inside. You've never quite gotten used to my size, and it feels so fucking good as I stretch you out inside, pressing in every direction, and you can't help but moan with my strong, deep strokes.

Another cock is by your mouth, pushing at your lips, then another. Someone grabs your wrist and puts your hand on their cock, and someone is riding your other hand, now. I press down on your tummy as I fuck you, and hands caress your hips, your moans obstructed by the cocks in your mouth. You're such a good girl that you try to focus through the pleasure to stroke what's in your hands. People are laughing, aren't you proud to be the heart of the party?

Abruptly, the cock in your hand spasms, and you feel the hot, sticky cum shoot onto your bare tummy. Your breath catches in your throat, and with three quick, perfect strokes inside you, you cum, cum for me, writhing beneath the hands and attention of all your friends, and as you contract around me I can't help it either. You hear me moan something, indistinct over the noise of the party, over the noise of your exhibition of lust, and you feel it shoot deep inside you, spraying your womb, dripping out as I continue to thrust into you.

I pull out, slapping your aching cunt, watching you flinch. You're begging now, you need more, don't you? I half pull, half carry you over to the coffee table, and push you down on one side.

I lift one leg up, and as I force your tight little ass to spread for my thick, veiny cock, I grab your hair and pull your head back. You feel pressure as someone else, you don't even know who and I won't let you see, slides their cock inside you, my cum still dripping out. Their cock isn't nearly as thick, but it's long, long, long. You gasp as our friend pushes your cervix up into you, fucking you quick and deep as I impale you on my cock.

You start crying, hands covering you again, kisses on your neck, your shoulder blades, your spine, your fingers, and you cum again, intoxicated by the attention, losing yourself in the hedonism of it all...

After you don't know how long, you feel me pull out. You're not even sure if I came or not, but the space is filled soon enough. As you feel the warm wetness of a tongue caress between your legs, you overhear me on the phone.

"Yeah, man, get over here. Bring everyone. Oh, don't bring any condoms. You're not gonna believe this..."

[sweetmodel]

How I became a master shifter (+ why methods aren't working for you)

Hello! I’ve been seeing a lot of disinformation lately, and I’ve noticed that some people might need help, so I wanted to chime in. I can shift whenever I want, and I see a LOT of limiting beliefs—but I understand because I was once on the other side.

Disclaimer: This is all based on my personal experience with how I became a master shifter. You’ll want to read everything—it’s important.

I first shifted around March 2022. I would always use methods. I would affirm, tell myself I was detached from this reality, and so on. During my very first shift, I literally affirmed all night long (if this sounds familiar, it’s because I used to have another blog here, lol). You know, really complicated stuff. Then... things changed. I couldn’t shift anymore. I kept using the same methods, but they didn’t work!

That’s when I started questioning everything about shifting and consciousness. Why was it that I could be in another reality where things like magic exist, but then suddenly I couldn’t shift anymore? Why were the methods, like lucid dreaming or the void, seemingly more powerful than the act of switching realities itself? Why, when I shifted from my Desired Reality to my Current Reality, all I needed to do think of my CR to shift back—but it didn’t work the other way around?

None of it made sense! And I’m sure many others have asked themselves these same questions.

I came up with two theories:

This reality has something unique compared to the infinite other realities. To shift from here, you need something extra, like a method.

There’s something else at play, something unrelated to the realities themselves.

I dismissed the first option. There’s nothing inherently special about this reality. So why do we use methods here but not in our DRs?

Then, I thought back to how I used to shift... detaching from my body, affirming until I shifted. It all aligned with my subconscious beliefs. The method didn’t work because that’s how shifting works, but because it made sense to my subconscious. Of course I would shift if I did these things—because that’s what I believed shifting required.

Well... kind of. As I said, it made sense because it aligned with my beliefs. So when the method failed, I wasn’t letting myself shift.

Did you catch that? I didn’t let myself shift. Of course, it wasn’t the method. At what point do you actually shift? Is it when you affirm? Do you really think the universe is just waiting for you to say the right thing enough times before it switches you to your DR?

No. It’s you.

So, you have two choices:

Find a method that truly aligns with your beliefs, or

Change your subconscious beliefs.

Changing your beliefs might seem hard, but I’m going to explain why it’s not as difficult as it feels.

All your life, you’ve had certain beliefs, but those beliefs came from somewhere. You weren’t born thinking you need methods to shift—it’s something that developed over time. Which means it’s not set in stone. It can be changed.

I realized that every reality holds the same weight. There’s NOTHING you can do in this one—no intrusive thoughts or negative emotions—that can stop you. Why? Because those thoughts and emotions are products of this reality. Shifting is simply changing what you’re aware of. That’s literally it. Anything outside of that can’t stop you.

Yes, we’ve all seen those posts saying things like, "Oh, you’re not focused enough" or "You spend too much time on X, Y, Z" or even "You don’t go outside enough" (I legit read this on here—y'all are wildin’). Are you in your DR thinking "Oh, I thought about failing to shift, it means I won't :("? Of course you aren't! But nothing can stop you from shifting. Nothing can stop you from being aware that you are a master shifter.

So, how do you become aware of that?

I started affirming throughout the day. I would tell myself these things:

I’m pure consciousness. I create my reality, and everything around me is just what I choose to perceive.

I’m a master shifter. I don’t need methods. All I need to do is choose to shift, think of my DR, and it happens.

Nothing in the 3D can stop me from shifting, because I’m in the 4D and pure consciousness.

I told myself these things constantly, and I truly understood what I was affirming. What being pure consciousness and being a master shifter actually meant. I stopped using methods. I stopped acting like this reality was special compared to the ones I wanted to be in. And then... it happened.

I shifted. During the day. I simply thought of my DR, told myself, I want to shift, and there I was—in my DR. It happened because, as I said, my subconscious beliefs changed and then manifested in my reality. The same way they did when I believed I needed methods.

Naturally, I stopped using methods. I stopped trying to shift. I no longer thought, Okay, tonight I’m going to shift, and I'm going to use X method. Because that’s not how you think or act when you’re a master shifter. I let go—why would I bother using a method before sleeping when I could just stand up, think about my DR, and be there? Why would I bother doing a method before falling asleep when I knew I'm a master shifter?

I allowed myself to shift. It was me! When people ask, What method did you use? What did you do to shift?—do you really, truly believe it’s the method that makes you shift? Of course you do, because you live in a reality that seems logical, and you apply that logic to shifting. But shifting isn’t logical! It just happens! I have no idea why—it’s literally just magic to me—but that’s how it works.

So, you need to understand: You make it happen. That’s a good thing, right? It means you don’t need methods, and you don’t need to keep searching for “the key.”

Anyway, I hope this helps someone. (Also yes, before you tell me, I know this is basically Law Of Assumption. But I wanted to explain it in more of shifting terms)

(Also if someone wants to post this to another social you have my permission- especially reddit since I was active in that community but I deleted my acc lol)

Edit: Hey guys there are some additional notes in the comments that might be useful!

[navybrat817]

Mr. and Mrs. Barnes

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky suggests sneaking off at the gala. How can you resist?

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Unprotected v. sex, sex in a closet, dirty talk, possessiveness, established relationship, slight insecurities, mention of breeding, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's a simp for you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I just really wanted this. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t bother to hide his discontent as he looked around at the ballroom. Was it a gala? Fundraiser? What cared? He hated functions like these. People were either there to kiss ass and move up the chain of command or gloat about how well off they were in life under the guise that they were doing good for others. He didn't attempt to converse with any of them, but still had to go as a way to support SHIELD in some capacity and show that he was no longer the Winter Soldier.

At least Steve and Sam were excused from the event due to a mission.

Leaning against one of the pillars and tugging at his bowtie, he spaced out momentarily. No one looked his way, but he still felt judged. Like he didn’t just belong at the event, but amongst anyone. He wanted to go home, get out of his tuxedo, and get the product out of his slicked back hair. He debated sneaking away from some air until he blinked and saw the reason he was truly there: you, the only real person in the crowd of liars and cheaters.

He never understood the expression of clothes clinging to someone like a second skin until you stepped into your floor-length black dress earlier this evening, the fabric enhancing every beautiful curve of your body. His eyes narrowed as you moved around the room and exchanged smiles and handshakes with people. Your aura drew people to you, men brushing against you and their stares lingering for far too long. It served as another reminder of why he didn’t want to go tonight, especially when a General gripped your arm.

If he had a glass in his hand it would’ve shattered.

Convincing you to stay in bed didn't work since you both had to make an appearance, but it didn't mean he wanted you apart from him. “Get over here,” he whispered, craving your attention, needing you close.

As if you sensed him seeking you out, likely feeling the weight of his stare, you turned to meet his gaze across the room. Your eyes sparkled with love that he never thought he’d receive in his lifetime. The kind of love he never wanted to be without again. “Would you please excuse me?” You asked loud enough for him to catch as you removed your arm from the man’s grip. “My husband is waiting for me.”

Your hips swayed as you worked your way toward Bucky, not stopping for any other man who tried to catch your eye. Hearing you call him your husband brought the first smile to his face since he arrived. He still couldn’t believe some days that you wanted forever with him. “I was wondering when my beautiful wife would remember I was here,” he said once you were close enough, reaching out for your hand.

The moment you took it, he stood tall and pulled you against him. He was certain no one else came close to the intimidating vibe he put out, his hold on you possessive as you smiled. “As if I could forget. Practically heard you growling when General Rando touched my arm,” you teased.

“Because he has no right to touch you,” he said, your lashes fluttering as you spun away. His hands guided you back to him. “I know you’re better with people than I am, which is why you’re the one who has to socialize and I’m sorry for that. But you also said I’m not allowed to break any fingers tonight and I won't be held responsible if he tries to touch you again.”

He swore he didn’t have a possessive bone in his body until you sauntered into his life, giving him hopes and dreams and longing.

You laughed at him, a seductive sound that had a few heads turning. “You do know I can break his fingers myself, right?”

He chuckled, leaning close to your ear and tickling your skin with his breath. “I know you're more than capable of kicking his ass. One of your many wonderful qualities,” he whispered. People underestimated you and that was always a mistake. “But I still don't like that he touched you like he wanted to own you.”

You rang a finger along his bowtie. “We all know who owns me and we know I own you, too,” you said, holding up your hand to show him your wedding ring. He tried to ignore how fast his heart pounded at the sight of his ring on your finger, the pledge you two made together. “In a very healthy, non-toxic sort of way, of course.”

He smirked, glancing around at the crowd before looking back at you. “Of course, but maybe we could give everyone a friendly reminder that we’re a happily married and loyal couple.” His voice dropped lower, teasingly. He wanted to make your heart race like his. “Or maybe we could sneak away for a bit. Make this night a little more interesting.”

“Sneak away?” You feigned innocence as you blinked at him. He was certain any innocence you had before he met you was gone thanks to him. “Whatever for?”

“You know what for. It’ll be like that expo we went to a few months ago.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying your face closely. He easily picked up your sharp inhale, the way your pupils dilated and lips parted. It was clear that sneaking off was something that very much interested you. “C’mon, baby. This gala is boring and neither of us want to be here. My idea is much more fun. You know it is.”

He touched your cheek, your skin warm under his hand. He wasn’t able to keep you in bed earlier like he wanted, but the thought of pulling you away and having you right here and now had his stomach fluttering with excitement. “This gala is boring,” you agreed carefully.

“Then let’s make it exciting.” His thumb brushed across your lips and it took everything in him not to push his thumb inside. “You made me come to this thing. Don’t I deserve something for showing up and behaving?”

“I haven't made you come yet.” His muscles went taut when you briefly sucked the digit into your mouth, electricity crackling under his skin. He admired your boldness, how you were unashamedly yourself in front of these people. You didn't and would never care what they thought. “And I didn't make you come to this event, but I can make it worth your while.”

He held your chin and moved close until only an inch separated your faces. Your eyes gleamed with a hunger that rivaled his. The air crackled between you, daring you both to give over to your obvious desires. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” He rasped when you suddenly pulled back and helped move him across the floor in a dance.

“My plan? I thought sneaking away was your idea,” you smiled, guiding you both closer to the open doorway. “But if we can find a closet or dark corner, you can do whatever you want with me. And I’ll even let you fuck my throat first thing tomorrow morning for behaving.”

A rumbling, deep groan escaped his throat. His fingers dug in possessively when he gripped the nape of your neck and tilted your head so he could taste your skin. Your body molding against his, soft and yielding against his solid frame, wasn’t enough. There were too many clothes in the way and he wanted to bury himself deep inside you.

“You drive me crazy, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Barnes.” You bit your lip once he waltzed you for enough away from prying eyes, the heat flaring between you. “I need you.”

Every nerve ending came to life when he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged past your lips, holding you steady as he devoured you. You melted against him, which only brought forth his primal hunger more. His intensity never scared you and he would be forever thankful for that.

You gasped as your back hit a wall, the sounds of chatter and music from the ballroom muffled. Your nails scraped the fabric of his jacket, both of you lost in sensations of lust and desire. As one of your hands continued its journey to his shoulder, the other wandered down his torso and didn’t stop until you gripped his thick erection through his pants.

He abruptly broke the kiss when you gave him a squeeze, his eyes wild. “Fuck,” he breathed, gripping your wrist and pushing more firmly against your hand. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

With dizzying speed, he spun you so that your back pressed against his front. You panted as his hand ventured through the slit of your dress and brushed along your trembling thigh. “Wait until you feel how wet I am,” you whispered, grinding your hips back against his.

His mouth brushed the exposed column of your throat, alternating between small bites and open mouthed kisses. “Still get wet for me?” He asked, massaging your breast with his vibranium hand and drawing another gasp from you when he pinched your nipple. He marveled at how much he could feel with that hand and how he’d never harm you with it.

“Have you seen yourself? One look from you and I’m soaked.” Your back arched as he bit down again. He wished he saw himself the way you did. “And you’re my husband. That craving for you isn’t going away.”

He rocked his hips against yours, seeking out more contact and friction as his cock throbbed and heart swelled. Marriage wasn’t a constant honeymoon phase. It took work. Effort. Compromise. But you were worth every moment, every struggle, every up and down.

Laughter from a few feet away had him lifting his head, both of you looking toward where the noise was coming from. “Fuck,” he snarled, wanting to scream at whoever it was to go the fuck away.

“There’s a closet around the corner. We just need to pick the lock,” you told him, smiling over your shoulder. “I may have scoped out the place in case this happened.”

He chuckled, utterly in awe of you. “I fucking love you,” he exhaled.

Walking with an aching hard-on wasn’t easy, but he managed to get you both further away from the ballroom. He picked the lock with record speed once you got to the door and moved you both inside. He flipped on the light, wanting to see as much of you as he could. For a moment, you two stared at each other and waited for the other to make a move. He loved the anticipation.

“I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Barnes,” you said, reaching for the doorknob to lock it. He was about to ask what he possibly did to upset you when you smirked. “You didn’t mention anything about me not wearing any panties.”

His cock was ready to burst from his pants. “Because that fucking clown out there interupted me,” he rumbled, pinning you against the door and crowding your body. His nose touched yours as he hiked your dress up, desperate to kiss you again. Eager to feel your wetness. “You trust me?”

It was a question he always asked. You put all of yourself into his care, your body, mind, heart, and soul. It was only fair that he made sure you still wanted him to be the one for you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Even then a single lifetime would never be enough for him. He wanted a thousand lives with you.

“Always,” you said, an ache in your voice that he couldn’t resist. He fused his lips with yours, building up the fire all over again when his hand found your damp heat. The most intimate part of you where you allowed him to make himself at home. Your hands shook as you went to undo his pants, wanting to free him. “And you trust me?”

It wasn’t just his heart that contracted. His very soul trembled, wanting to wrap itself up in your light and love. “With everything in me,” he promised, sighing when he pulled his cock free from his underwear. “I’ll worship you later. Those gorgeous tits of yours. Your sweet cunt.”

Once you were home, he’d slip off your dress and give every beautiful inch of your body the attention it deserved. He’d draw a bath for you, too, and hopefully join you so he could simply hold you. But he was desperate for you now. He thought he’d burn if he didn’t have you.

You hiked a leg around him, moving your hips enticingly. There was only so much he could take. And who wouldn’t fall under the tempting spell of your body? “I’m ready for you.” Your soft moan echoed in his ears as he trailed a finger along your slit to your clit, barely touching it. He knew it would shoot small sparks through your body until you begged for more. “I mean it, Barnes. Get. Your cock. In me.”

“My needy little wife,” he whispered against your lips as he gripped the base of his cock and probed your entrance. The breathy sound you made when he began to push in had his blood pulsing in euphoria. It was a wonder he fit some days with how tight you were, but your slick heat stretched and welcomed him every time.

“My needy husband,” you smiled as you enveloped him completely, your fingers curling in his hair.

“What kind of man isn’t needy for his wife?” He began to thrust in deep, deliberate strokes. It matched the rhythm of the music in the distant ballroom, the two of you creating your own sultry dance. Maybe he would go up in flames. At least he’d have you to burn with. “Fuck, your body was made for my cock.”

Each snap of his hips tore more moans and whimpers from your throat and sent shockwaves through his system. You clenched around him with a smile, looking like a debauched angel. “My pussy was made for you, so ruin it.”

He groaned, his pulse beating strongly as his grip tightened on your hips. He fucked you without restraint, just as greedy for you as you were for him. Allowing himself to feel you and what you did to him was everything he was denied for so long. His life had only been order. Pain. You let him lose control. You gave him pleasure. Even a home.

I love you.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you panted, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes closed against the emotions threatening to surface. “I love you, too.”

His pace picked up, urgent, frenzied. At this rate, he might explode into fragments from your declaration and how good you felt. “You love me?” He bit out, his eyes opening and breaths harsh as he felt you clench again.

You cried out, his hand flying up to brace your head before it hit the door. “So much,” you moaned as you gazed at him. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Fierce in love and loyalty, patient and steadfast. He feared some days he’d need you more than you needed him, but you drove that thought from his mind. “I’m yours.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he warned. He couldn’t with the way you looked at him, the way your walls gripped him, knowing you were his.

“Neither am…” Your mouth fell open as your release hit you, your fluids drenching him. It was a wonder to watch you go over the edge in a blissful orgasm. He wanted to be right there with you.

“There you go. Good girl,” he encouraged, your body still tight around his cock. He erupted in one last thrust, his head falling back with an animalistic roar. “Fuck…”

Bucky braced a hand against the door, the other holding you like a lifeline. If only the two of you were at home so he could properly cuddle with you. His breathing remained ragged for a bit as he came down from his high, your breathing beginning to steady, too. He couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of you thoroughly ravaged and satisfied. “Worth every second of being here,” he sighed, slowly pulling out of your twitching hole. You inhaled when he moved a hand down and swiped two fingers along the mess seeping out of you. “Clean them off for me, baby,” he ordered huskily, bringing them to your mouth.

Obediently, you parted your lips and allowed him to push his fingers in. You swirled your tongue around them to taste your combined essence, moaning at the tangy flavor. He tucked himself away once you finished up, afraid that he’d fuck you all over again if he didn’t get completely dressed. It didn’t stop him from gazing longingly at you as he fixed his jacket.

And it didn’t stop him from imagining your mouth around his cock the next morning.

“Now.” You grimmaced slightly as he helped you steady yourself and straighten out your dress. He knew that look. It was the look you got for a split second whenever the sticky remnants continued to trickle down your thighs. He loved having that claim on you. “How do you expect me to go back to the gala after that?”

“I don’t,” he smirked, his hands moving back to your hips as he snuck in a gentle kiss. “I think it’s time to get you home and back in our bed where you belong. I promised I’d worship you, remember?”

You nodded, your eyes still slightly dazed. “On one condition.”

He titled his head. “What’s that?”

A slow smile curved your mouth, his heart pounding and cock twitching back to life at your answer, “You put a baby in me tonight.”

So, lovelies, was it okay? I feel rusty. And who wants a future fic of Bucky breeding you? Just me? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[onlyswan]

summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges.

idol!jk x reader | fluff, angst | word count: 9.5k

warnings/content: oc passes out in the shower / jk does something crazy i’m literally insane about this / baby bam cameo 🥺 / stitches >:( / blood draw / mention of speeding / jealous not but rlly jealous oc is pissed owfffff at the nurse who has a crush on jk lmao / jk and his mom loves them to death tho so obv who wins / love is beautiful let’s all cry <3

> in which masterlist!

note: *sitcom sound effect of crowd cheering* I’M BACK 🥰 hope u enjoy the product of my madness during finals season hehehe. and special thanks to my cutieful proofreader rio!! you’re one of my most favorite people i’ve ever met 🥺💕 + my beloveds who came to the rescue when i had medical questions !! i didn’t expect to receive help from soooo many and i’m so freaking grateful i could cri :")

—

“i ordered it the other day. how did it arrive so early?”

jungkook walks back inside the apartment, arms occupied by a stack of boxes that arrived in the mail yesterday.

he arrives at the living room, head tilting to the side in confusion when he realizes that the netflix show he was watching on the television is no longer playing. instead, there is the news channel.

he gasps.

“baby, you’re alive!”

your swollen eyes flicker up to him.

you’re lying on the sofa with your legs lazily dangling on the edge. there’s a toothbrush in your mouth, foam of bubbles between your lips, but your arm barely exerts the energy to make it do its job.

“you were asleep from afternoon to morning. do you know that? you’ve never done that before!” he exclaims, carelessly tossing the boxes on the floor. “i was getting scared!”

you only hum to acknowledge his existence, pushing yourself up from the sofa and unknowingly dodging the hug your boyfriend wanted to greet you with.

he ends up collapsing face first on the empty space you left, hurt and offended.

the bathroom door opens and closes.

he flips over, whining. “yah, we didn’t see each other for a day. didn’t you miss me?!”

still not a single word from you. sleeping that long must not have cured your exhaustion, jungkook surmises. you tend to be glum and cranky when you’re feeling unwell, as is usually the case when you wake up as unrested as before.

he doesn’t always know how to make you feel better, but he always tries anyway.

“our new bedsheets arrived!” he announces from the other side of the bathroom door, making himself loud so that you can hear him despite the shower running. “do you want to unbox them with me?!”

he allows the seconds to pass, but with his hands on his hips, he eventually begins to tap his foot on the floor.

“baby? may i go in?”

he turns the knob, just to be prepared incase the answer is a yes, but it doesn’t turn. a sad pout forms on his face.

huh? why is it locked?

you must genuinely don’t want to be bothered today.

“guess that’s a no.” he mutters to himself before calling out to you. “okay, i’ll wait for you!”

with a crestfallen sigh, he begins to walk back to the living room.

he doesn’t go far, however.

only several steps later, a series of loud crashes is heard from the bathroom and his heart thunders in his chest with a combination of numbing shock and fear.

“____, what was that?! did you fall?!”

he aggressively pounds at the door, extremely desperate this time around. he has no plans on leaving until he knows that you’re safe and sound.

“baby! open this! are you alright…? are you hurt? you’re scaring me. please, answer!”

he pauses, catching his breath as his mind runs a thousand miles per hour.

“____!”

he strikes the door with an open palm one more time, more so to express his frustration that is only growing worse with every tick of the clock. he only ends up hurting himself in the process.

“that’s it! i’m opening the door!”

he frantically whips his head around, racking his brain for the location of the key. there are two copies of it somewhere in the apartment, but in his panicked state, he is unable to pinpoint either of their specific spots. and he can’t fucking afford to waste any more time.

“ah, fuck!” he curses, left with no other choice but to give in to the instinct of breaking down the door with the strength and durability of his body alone.

he would most definitely break his shoulder first before the door.

only after the first try, that much is clear.

and so, with madness inconsiderate of his agony, he resorts to kicking it over and over again.

the repeated loud collisions rattles poor bam from his slumber. not long after, the dog’s barking creates a booming dissonance with his grunts and kicks at the door.

when it finally swings open, the force of his own body sends him stumbling on the bathroom floor, but he doesn’t waste time in bouncing back to his feet.

the twisting of his stomach is instantaneous.

there lies your naked, unconscious figure behind the glass— surrounded by bottles of hair and body products that must have fallen when your hands were searching for something to hold on to.

his voice cracks, breathless.

“baby, no… no, no, no.”

he kneels on the floor, and despite the strong urge to carry you out of there, he tries to calm down. it’s the first rule in every emergency case; professionals reiterate in seminars and news channel segments.

keep calm. keep calm. keep calm.

he won’t be able to forgive himself if he ends up causing more harm than good.

“____, can you hear me?!”

his instinct tells him to inspect every inch of you for any sign of injury, but then his vision becomes too blurry. he curses at the hindrance and forces himself to turn off the showerhead that was left running.

he harshly wipes his face, rushing back to you.

“please, please, please. wake up.” he begs.

he has a feeling that it’s futile. you can’t hear him and he’s wasting his breath. the thing is he doesn’t know what else to do.

“baby…”

he carefully turns your head over, almost relieved because he hasn’t seen blood so far.

almost.

at last, he gets a full view of your face, and he finds blood dripping. this has always been one of his most paralyzing fears— seeing you get hurt. now that it’s become a reality, there’s a part of him that wants to believe this is some kind of twisted dream.

“how- how did this even happen…?” he cries out, his own blood running cold.

for everything that happens after, his body acts on its own. bam is a constant presence in his peripheral, but he is barely in his right mind to acknowledge the presence aside from, “bam, move. daddy might step on you.”

he carries you out of the bathroom, kicking aside the beaten up door. he has made up his mind about bringing you to the hospital, but he can’t bring you like… this.

he lays you down on the bed, all that gentleness switched off in a split second so he can sprint to the walk-in closet. he hastily grabs whatever is on top of your neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants; and then a fresh towel on the way out. the gentleness returns as he pats your face dry, the pure white stained with dark red. he flips the towel and uses the other side to wipe the rest of your body, in a race against time but mindful of treating you like fragile glass.

once that is over, he dresses you in a pair of gray sweatpants, and with some difficulty, an orange t-shirt.

any person with functioning eyes will be able to tell that the shades don’t go together.

if you were conscious, you’d definitely berate him for making you wear this outfit.

but you’re not.

jungkook effortlessly swoops you in his arms— dripping wet hair, his and yours, leaving behind a trail of raindrops from your apartment floor to the cemented parking lot.

—

your body feels like it’s floating.

are you dreaming…?

you must be dreaming.

you hear an uncoordinated symphony of voices, but you can’t comprehend a word. in pursuit of clarity, you force yourself to open your eyes.

the voices grow a little louder. faceless figures hover you; a bright light shines over your face.

your senses must be playing cruel tricks. now it feels like you’re drowning, sinking into the unknown, and your body has succumbed into numbing defeat.

you want to sleep a little more.

you must truly be exhausted. it’s okay.

you’ve fought hard until now. you’ve done enough… has anyone tried in life as much as you did?

just as your eyes flutter shut, you regain sensation of your hand; a soft squeeze and a call of your name.

—

jungkook gently strokes your hair, sighing for the nth time since you got transferred to a private room. he’s relieved that all the scans came back clean so serious head and brain injuries have been ruled out. the doctor also asked him questions and ran some other tests before concluding that electrolyte imbalance caused you to pass out; the culmination of stress and fatigue from work, as well as your strong period, most likely being the main reasons. he didn’t even know about the latter until you stained the white sheets with blood.

it was fucking frightening being in the sidelines as they rushed to check on your vitals and to administer oxygen. even now, it’s unbearable to see you with a needle in your hand and a few stitches above your eyebrow. he already anticipated you not being pleased with having to get stitches specifically either; gasping and sitting up as soon as you heard the word come from his lips post-consciousness. consequently, the dizziness hits you. the doctor wasn’t happy about that.

“this is so annoying. i don’t want a scar.” you whine as you study your face on the camera of jungkook’s phone. “did i have to fall on my prettier side?”

“what are you saying? you’re pretty from any angle.” he interjects. “be careful. the wound might open up.”

you jut out your bottom lip, looking up at him with glassy eyes. the sight instantly tugs at his heartstrings, and he pulls you in for a hug. maybe he’s a little sad that you don’t appear concerned about the fact that you passed out, but god is he relieved to finally hear your voice again.

“ah, i should call the doctor.”

but his face remains buried in your hair.

“they told me to do so.”

“you should-”

“why?!” he abruptly reacts, drawing back. “does anything hurt?”

“chill. you said that they told you to.”

“oh, that’s right.” he sheepishly smiles. he can’t help but to overreact; he hasn’t turned off the alarms in his head. “i’ll go tell the nurse to get her.”

he starts to walk towards the door, but a tug at his shirt holds him back.

you shyly look at him with a scrunch of your nose. “i’m nervous. hug me for five more seconds.”

fuck, he would move heaven and earth to protect you from everything that can cause you harm.

“why would you be nervous? i’m right here.” he scolds you lightheartedly, not hesitating to seize the chance to hug you again. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

you pull away after five seconds, and he’d be disappointed about you being too true to your words if you didn’t kiss him on the cheek so ardently.

his heart almost jumps out of his chest when you gasp out of nowhere as if you just realized that you left the gas tank open at home. your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“bam!”

oh, right. your child.

“my brother’s house!” he eases your mind.

you breathe out in relief, the heel of your palm pressing against the left side of your chest where your heart lives. “good… i was worried. he was probably more scared because he didn’t understand what was going on. i feel bad.”

you love bam so much; it makes him so happy. you’re so concerned about him even when you’re the one on the hospital bed. you make pretty good parents, huh?

“that’s right. he was worried about you, too. that’s why you need to recover quickly so he won’t be sad!”

—

the doctor kindly asked jungkook to give the two of you some time alone, so he’s been idly sitting at the lobby after buying a bottle of water. he’s pretty much used to visiting the hospital for routine checkups considering the nature of his job, but it always feels strange to be here for the other different purposes of the place.

is there any other building sadder than this?

if you heard him utter this question, he could easily predict what you’d say: but is there any other building with more love?

if he tries hard enough, he could listen to your voice and paint you in his mind.

you see love in every place that you step foot into.

his curious eyes continue to wander around. he spots people carrying flowers, baskets, and containers of food. there’s also a teenage boy in his high school uniform, carrying a teddy bear larger than him.

not that he wants you to stay longer, but if you have to, he writes down a mental note to bring one of your favorite plushies.

he eventually gets tired; considers scrolling on his phone again, but he decides against it when his gaze lands on a little boy sleeping soundly on his mother’s lap. suddenly, he is reminded of his childhood before he moved to seoul.

how simple life can be when you’re innocently sleeping on your mother’s lap, trusting that everything will be alright.

“ah, i miss my mom…” he utters absentmindedly. “i miss my mom so much. i should call her.”

his reminiscing is interrupted when a wheelchair rolls by infront of him. it is leisurely being pushed by an old man who wants to bring his wife outside for some fresh air.

in a parallel universe somewhere, jungkook can imagine them as you and him.

he sits up straight, looking back at the clock on the wall.

how long has it been? he wants to be by your side again.

—

“jungkook!” your face lights up as soon as your boyfriend steps into the room. “what took you so long?”

“i know. sorry, baby. i got a little distracted outside.”

“i’ve been waiting.” you pout. “why? were people bothering you?”

“not at all. don’t worry.”

you pat the empty space beside you. “here.”

“i think the bed is meant for only one person- damn, okay, okay-”

he swiftly gives in upon seeing the hurt on your face, occupying the space you reserved for him. “i love you. don’t be sad.”

you’re aching too much to wait for him to get settled. you wrap your arms around his waist like you’re a magnet attracted to steel, clinging to him for comfort.

if you’re being honest, you don’t know how you feel about being in this situation. overwhelmed? maybe a tiny bit relieved. in the past, it didn’t matter whether you were sick or not. you needed to work or else it was guaranteed that you wouldn’t survive. life is easier now. you have the luxury to use this as a reason to take a break. you have someone who takes care of you as naturally as he breathes.

“how was the doctor?”

“she’s nice… she just asked me about the things i remember before i passed out. then about my work, diet, sleeping schedule… stuff like that.”

you pull away a little, just enough so you can see each other’s face. you squint at him suspiciously. “did you have to get an expensive room?”

he chuckles. “how did you know? they didn’t tell you that, did they?”

“i literally have the perfect view of the fountain from here!” you point at the large window behind you. “i just passed out. i would’ve been fine downstairs.”

“don’t say it like that. it could’ve been so much worse.” he says with knitted eyebrows, palm cupping the back of your head and caressing softly.

he heaves a sigh.

“i was so scared that you injured your head. seriously, i thought i’d go insane if i lost you! i went past the speed limit driving you here!”

the distress he was under is apparent. you can’t help but to be racked with the guilt. you always do this, making him worry himself to death. you don’t usually do it purpose, and that only makes you feel shittier.

“you’re right. i’m sorry.”

“well, i…” he sighs. “it’s okay. i know you didn’t want this either. it’s not your fault.”

you press your lips into a thin line. “it kind of is.”

your lost eyes meet, and a connection is established like it’s a constellation sending a secret message. your heart flutters when he giggles, dimples and starry eyes and crinkled corners.

“stop it. it’s impossible to scold you when you’re so cute and self-aware.”

“then don’t scold me.” you sniffle sadly to kindle pity in him. “i’ve had enough of it from the doctor.”

your brain still works well enough to help you escape from trouble. that’s a good sign, right?

“my poor baby.” he coos, cradling your cheeks.

his hands are warm. you put yours over them; a wordless signal telling him you don’t want him to go away.

“let’s not get hurt again, please. we need to stay healthy and take good care of ourselves so this won’t happen again, alright?”

you nod in obedience. your eyes are fixed on him but you’re not certain if you’re registering what he’s telling you in your pitiful, shaken brain.

“the hospital already did me many favors. if we go back, i might have to build them another fountain as a gift.”

and knowing jungkook, with his golden heart and his black card, jokes become half-meant.

“what do they need that for?!”

he bursts out laughing, yet again, after you chide at him for his ridiculous and unnecessary expenses.

“nothing, i’m just grateful! i was really so scared but i’m relieved now thanks to them. i can’t remember the last time i felt that way.”

“you’re not scared of a lot of things.” you point out.

“that’s right.” he agrees. “only you scare me these days.”

you grimace. “am i scary?”

“you are, sometimes.” he laughs, squishing your cheeks together. “but i mean the things that could hurt you.”

as if on cue, your stomach grumbles and bellows like a monster stuck in an empty cave. your eyes grow twice its size in bewilderment, which then morphs into embarrassment.

“my stomach hurts.” you say quietly.

your nostrils flare as jungkook miserably fails to hold back his laughter. one of his hands leave your face, rubbing your tummy over the thin hospital gown.

“oh no, what are we going to do? where does it hurt? here?” he pouts. “should we go feed you now to make it go away?”

“what is wrong with you?” you slap his shoulder in annoyance. “i’m not a baby!”

“yah, be careful!” he yells, wincing as if he is the one in pain. “be gentle with the one with the iv!”

—

“you know one good thing that came out of this?” you gush out of nowhere.

you’re mixing up the ingredients of your bibimbap bowl with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks.

jungkook noisily drinks the final sips of his banana milk. afterwards, he makes a game out of shooting the box in the trash bin.

“what could that be?” he asks, doubtful.

he sits on the chair beside your bed. you greet him with a delighted grin, licking your thumb stained with gochujang.

“you proved your love. you committed a crime for me.”

he gasps to humor you, body freezing as if he’s currently processing the newly-learned information in his brain.

“oh? you’re right- i did! and you know what? i’d do it again!”

with a mouthful of rice, you shake your head in disagreement furiously. “you’re cute. but that’s the first and last.”

“but how are you sure that it’s the first?” he raises an eyebrow quizically.

silly enough, you envy him for being able to do so.

you hum in thought. “i guess you’ve stolen a few things for me, too.”

“few? you mean a loooot?”

“you’re the one who brings home food and random things.” you roll your eyes. “i never ask you to.”

“you told me you wanted the service bell!”

you feel yourself become flushed with sheepishness. he’s not lying. you’ve always found the object fascinating as a child, so you couldn’t help but to tell him to sneakily take one home after filming a competitive run bts episode.

did you have a silly phase where you and jungkook used it to summon each other just to laugh together about it?

perhaps.

“well, you’re rich. you could’ve bought me one instead.”

“but it was already there.” he reasons with a wide grin, gesturing infront of him. “i wanted to give it to my lover right away.”

his lover?

jungkook has successfully replaced your frown with an enamored smile.

“i made your heart flutter just now, didn’t i?”

a hospital stay has never felt this comfortable— not terrifying. you have stitches on your face and to add to that, this hospital gown feels super unflattering. somehow, your boyfriend’s loving gaze remains steady and you are melting.

“shut up,” you mutter, flustered, handing him the pair of chopsticks. “please eat with me. i can’t finish this on my own.”

—

“why would you let them put the needle in my dominant hand?”

you stomp your feet on the ground as jungkook squeezes some toothpaste onto a newly-bought toothbrush.

“i’m sorry! i was too stressed out so i just pointed! i think i got confused with- with left and right.”

you didn’t realize this while you were eating; that you were unconsciously holding the spoon with your non-dominant hand because the other felt uncomfortable. maybe because it was a simple task, scooping food and bringing it to your mouth. brushing your teeth, on the other hand… can be quite an arm workout.

“eeeee!”

he shows his complete set of teeth, urging you to do the same. you stare at him blankly.

“eeeee!” he repeats with heightened enthusiasm.

left with no other choice— you copy his awkward smile.

“there we go!” he praises you with an over-enthusiastic beam.

he carries on to brush your teeth, gingerly holding your chin to keep you steady as he does his job.

this is the first time jungkook is doing this for you. today is definitely not one of your finest moments. it feels a bit silly to be in this situation, and you feel bad for putting your boyfriend in this position in the first place. you can see that he’s trying his best—unnecessarily focused—and that he loves you, but you just hate giving him a hard time.

with a soft smile, he wipes the bubbles that overflowed past your lips.

“okay, spit.”

you spit out more of the bubbles on the sink. you assume that he’s finished, except he’s making another vowel sound for you to mimic the mouth shape of.

“ahhhh-”

“this is embarrassing!”

“baby, really? this is where you draw the line?” he playfully squeezes your cheeks together. “it’s almost over! ahhhh!”

and you let him do this thing, but not without a glare that is masking the embarrassing truth: you might be enjoying this more than you care to admit.

“see? was that so bad?”

as he tenderly pats your face dry in the aftermath, he says: “i’m sorry. bear with it a little more. let me take care of you so you’ll be healthy again.” and you feel every ounce of his sincerity pierce through the barriers surrounding your soul.

“stop it…” your voice suddenly comes out broken.

you want to put all the blame on your period for the tears that are now brimming your eyes, but jungkook is your biggest weakness of all and that is an explanation enough.

“why are you crying?” he panics. “what did i say?”

“it’s your fault.”

you break down into loud sobs, incapable of even keeping your eyes open. you never understood why we close our eyes when we cry, but right now, you know that you can’t bear to witness his reaction.

“you’re so sweet.”

the towel that was wiping the water from your mouth is now drying the tears from your stained cheeks.

“am i making you sad?”

you furiously shake your head. how could he say such a thing? he is the greatest joy of your life.

“no?”

“no!”

“okay, come here then.”

he wraps his arms around your trembling figure, caging you in the solace of his entire existence. a sense of calmness washes over your system, especially as he runs his hand across your back in gentle strokes. this isn’t his goal though, it seems. you hear none of his quiet shushes beseeching you to stop breaking his heart. he hopes you let go of everything that has been weighing on you, but he has already eased all your pains by loving you.

“ugh, i probably look horrible right now.” you force a chuckle to lighten up the mood, wiping your face with the back of your free hand. “i feel gross.”

“that’s not true.” he gazes at you fondly, brushing your hair with his fingers. “it’s actually infuriating how you look so beautiful still.”

“i know. i’m nice to look at; that’s why you tolerate my attitude.” you conclude in jest.

“yeah, sometimes.” he rides on the joke.

“what…?”

“i’m joking!” he rushes to take it back with a laugh. “of course i’m joking!”

you pout. “are you really?”

“oh, come onnnn.”

he coaxes you with a kiss on the lips— a good morning kiss long overdue. you’ve been spoiled rotten with affection; he knows you need more than one. he interrupts himself several times to kiss you.

“you know i’ll love you until our hair turns white and our skin all wrinkly.”

to be brutally honest, you’re not fond of imagining that far ahead. it’s daunting. you doubt your capability to age with grace. you’re horrified by the thought of having the majority of your life behind you. nostalgia has always been more bitter than sweet. but maybe this memory could be the sweetest of all, if jungkook truly stays by your side until then. in a cottage at the countryside like he said once, or a cabin by the ocean.

you’re both so young; so arrogant when it comes to making promises that are a shot in the dark. so fucking in love.

“me too.” you half-smile, scrunching your nose— a telltale sign of your joy. “now, get out. i really need to pee.”

his face becomes drained of blood. “but you’re st-”

“i won’t lock the door this time.” you cup his cheek, looking at his eyes reassuringly. “we don’t need property damage added to the bill.”

—

“did you not hurt yourself?”

“me?”

“you broke down the door. that’s not easy to do.”

you and jungkook make the best out of a bad deal. you’re squeezed together on the bed, browsing through television channels that seem to never end.

“it was easy because you were on the other side of it.”

that is what he claims confidently, but you are not fully convinced.

“wow, why do they have more channels than we do at home?”

“you didn’t answer my question.” you pout. “did you hurt yourself?”

“i didn’t hurt myself. i’m totally okay. i promise.”

he maintains eye-contact as he speaks. given the assurance, your tight chest unrestricts. jungkook is not a good liar. it’s a trait that causes him inconvenience every now and then, but it helps you to sleep soundly at night.

“should we just watch funny animal videos on youtube?”

“i guess that’s fine.”

it doesn’t show but you feel excitement run in your veins aside from the iv fluids that feel peculiarly cold.

from under your cheek, his chest vibrates with a giggle. “okay, hold on.”

as he pulls up the application, you tangle your legs together beneath the thin blanket. you hear the rapid tap tap tap of the remote control navigating the keypad while he types on the search bar, but your attention is someplace else. you’ve found the crook of his neck to sneak into, lazily kissing every inch of his exposed skin. your lips eventually trail up to his jaw. he smells so nice. you’re addicted.

“baby, someone can enter any minute.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you mumble.

you smile against his lips when he gives you a kiss as sweet as honey anyway.

“i’m curious about another thing.”

“what’s that?”

“did you cry?”

he comes to a still. the answer to that question requires a little time and thought.

“almost…”

“why almost?”

“no time. i had to bring you here, of course.” he replies.

you huff a laugh, exhaling a twinge of melancholia. “don’t cry.”

“i won’t. i’m happy now because you’re awake and fighting with me.”

“ow-”

your cry of pain is silenced when he squeezes you in an embrace that makes it nearly impossible to breathe.

“red panda!”

a squeal assaults both of your hearing as soon as your eyes land on the wide screen infront of the bed.

“i want one so fucking bad.”

the enunciated curse makes your boyfriend crack up in amusement. “that much?!”

—

jungkook opens his eyes to a nurse lightly nudging him awake.

“i’m sorry, i had to wake you up. i need to check vitals and draw blood.”

“shit, i’m sorry.” he panics.

his brain is foggy from the nap, but he still carefully sits up on the bed, wary of the iv line connected to your hand.

“i… was tired and i fell asleep.”

“it’s no problem; don’t worry.”

she smiles at him, but he doesn’t see it.

“you look adorable sleeping.”

“ah, really?” he awkwardly responds, absentminded. “it’s embarrassing.”

he stands on your side, about to disturb your peaceful rest much as it makes his heart ache with guilt, but you’re already stirring due to the absence of his warmth.

your heavy eyelids blink at the nurse in curiosity. “oh… do you need my blood?”

“yes, but i’ll take your blood pressure and temperature first.”

“okay,” you mumble, offering your arm. “it might be higher now because i’m scared.”

she chuckles at your joke. jungkook tries to share an endeared look with her and non-verbally communicate adorable, right?

“i promise i’ll be quick. although we definitely want it to be higher than earlier’s.”

you wince as the cuff around your upper arm goes as tight as it could, and you sigh at the same time that it begins to deflate.

“good, good, good,” she chants with a mumble. “it’s back in the normal range again…”

she brings out a digital thermometer from her pocket.

“you know where this goes.”

she hands it over to you, and you awkwardly place it in your armpit, holding it in place. it’s quiet as you wait for the device to make the beeping sound, except for her pen creating friction with your chart as she takes down notes.

“how’s your stitches? do you feel any discomfort?”

“it’s fine. thank you.”

not long after, you hear the beep. you return the thermometer to her, but not before taking a peak at the numbers displayed on the tiny screen. 36.8°C. you think you’ll live.

“i’ll draw your blood now.”

the nurse’s voice is sweet and reassuring, but it doesn’t quite ease the nervousness evident on your expression. your pupils shake as you watch her disinfect the area, and then comes out the long needle.

another one, jungkook laments inside.

“____, i’m right here.”

you crane your head, whimpering out his name. “jungkook,”

“it will be just a pinch. i’m inserting the needle now, alright?”

you take a sharp inhale.

if only he could switch positions with you, he would do it in a heartbeat. unfortunately, all he can do is caress your hair and whisper that it will be over soon.

“it hurts.” your damp eyelashes flutter, face twisting in discomfort. “i don’t like it.”

really, just a pinch? obviously a lie.

“hey, baby. look at the tv.”

the autoplay was left turned on after you fell asleep together. inside the screen is a puppy rolling around a snow-covered lawn. the wagging of its tail, the wide smile, and the pupils as big as boba balls: they all scream the happiness of an innocent.

“it’s so cute… i miss bam already. can we go to a dog park again?”

“of course!”

that promise sparks your smile. you turn to your side, and jungkook also catches a glimpse of the cotton taped to where you were poked.

“all done. you can go back to resting.”

“thank you. will you need to take blood again?” you inquire at the nurse.

“hm, probably. it depends on the doctor based on the results we get from this one.”

“can’t you just do it while i’m asleep? or is that not allowed?”

“baby…” jungkook snorts, hiding his face behind the palm of his hands.

the nurse laughs at your desperate suggestion. “that is honestly not a rare request, but the thing is… you might wake up in the middle of it and injure yourself. we can’t do that.”

“that won’t be a problem!” you passionately argue your case. “i’m a deep sleeper. seriously!”

“ah, thank you so much for your hard work!”jungkook intervenes, bowing to the nurse out of respect and gratitude. “i’m sure you’re busy. i will handle this!”

“oh yes, yes- thank you. please don’t forget the medicine for after dinner.”

“i won’t!”

“if you need anything, you know where to find me again.”

“yes,” he nods, chuckling. “thank you.”

“then i should leave…? but you’ll see me again later! bye!”

the door shuts, and his attention lands on your unimpressed form: a blank stare and arms folded infront of your chest.

uh-oh.

“did she seriously wink while saying that?”

“what?” he freezes, genuinely clueless. “i don’t know. i didn’t see anything. i was looking at you.”

“i’m right here- i’m the patient. why would you need anything from her? huh? why is she so excited to see you again?” you ramble angrily.

“right?!”

he climbs on the bed, reclaiming his spot next to you.

“that was weird.”

“what if she made it hurt on purpose? that…” you frown, glancing at your arm. “that didn’t really feel like a pinch to me.”

“ey, calm down. she wouldn’t.” he makes a doubtful face, laughing off the accusation. “…i don’t think so?”

you blink, exhaling in disbelief. “are you taking her side now?”

“of course not! baby, i’m just saying… a professional won’t do that.”

“why not? she’s still human. humans do stupid things when they like someone. she obviously likes you.”

“and so what?”

he grins with a spark of mischief, leaving an inch of a distance between your lips.

“i’m obviously yours.”

but you turn your cheek and your eyes fall on your lap, a pout highlighting your downcast mood.

“it’s so annoying.”

the regret sinks in after. he should’ve stuck to the golden rule: agree with everything that you say. there’s no point in having an argument no one will win. does it matter who’s right and wrong if each other’s sadness is contagious in addition to their own? your gut has almost always been right, and he’s old enough to be conscious of not allowing a stranger to put a dent on your relationship.

“are you serious? are you uncomfortable?” he tilts his head to try and get a better look at your face. “should i request for a different nurse?”

it’s quiet for a beat and he feels inclined to fill the silence with whatever enters his mind.

“i love you.”

almost immediately, your features soften and he knows your heart is also melting. the two of you bite the inside of your cheeks to hide a smile.

“no, there’s no need for that.”

but he still can’t help but to be worried. your peace of mind is his top priority. he doesn’t want you to be more stressed out, especially by things that he has the power to solve.

“are you sure?”

“she pissed me off. i need to piss her off too.”

of course, his ever stubborn and competitive lover. he sits up properly, amused and curious.

“and how will you do that?”

“i don’t know,” you nonchalantly shrug. “i’ll come up with something.”

—

“come up with what?”

to your surprise, a voice you haven’t heard in weeks echoes from the door.

“mom…?”

you’re stunned after only hearing yourself react to jungkook’s mother’s unexpected entrance. your head whips to his direction; your eyes wordlessly interrogating him.

“i need to go to work so i called her to watch over you.” he explains.

“why would you do that?” you argue with him as quietly as possible, lips barely moving as you try to hide your face from your mother-in-law. again, not one of your finest moments. “you didn’t have to. i can take care of myself.”

“but you don’t have to because you have us.”

jungkook marks the conversation finished with a kiss pressed to your temple, leaving you dumbfounded. he jumps off the bed and for a split second, you make eye-contact with his mother before he towered over her for a quick hug.

her kind smile is embroidered in your memory; a memory that wraps your heart in a type of warmth only a mother can provide.

“mom! i’m sorry. i really, really, really need to leave now. but! i’ll try to come back early so you can go home early too.”

“aigoo, stop stressing yourself out.”

jungkook receives a slap on the back, somehow more loving can scolding.

“i can stay the night so do what you need to do. you don’t have to worry.”

“it’s not only because i’m worried!”

she sassily puts a hand over her waist. it takes everything in you not to laugh out loud.

“then what else?”

“mom! what else?” he cheekily smiles. “of course i’ll miss ____ too much.”

did your boyfriend just…? to his mother? your jaw becomes slack from the shame.

“i missed ____ too!” she contests. “go to work and give us our alone time.”

you shyly smile when she transfers her attention from her son to you.

“hello, my baby. are you hungry?”

—

“does my son feed you well?”

“he does! but it’s funny- other mothers ask the opposite. are you feeding my son well? do you make sure he’s comfortable?”

you think out loud, transfixed on how she peels oranges with ease. your hands would always be stained by the juices, (and eyes red and teary from accidental splashes) (it’s too embarrassing to even think about) but hers are still magically clean.

“is that so?”

you graciously accept the slice she feeds you. she laughs when your face lights up like a christmas tree one more time. it’s way sweeter than you anticipated. you can’t get over how delicious it is.

“mhmm!”

perhaps you relied too much on dramas when it came to your expectations of what a relationship with your in-laws would look like. you imagined yourself running around like a dog trying to prove yourself worthy of their son, yet for some reason, it looks like they adore you for simply existing. it makes you feel extremely grateful, but you don’t understand.

“mom, i have a question… i know it’s probably too late to ask this now, but…”

“what could that be?”

“are you really not against me and jungkook living together?” you swallow your fear of the possibility of an unpleasant truth. “are you not… worried… that i’m receiving too much from him?”

because you would understand the apprehension. as a parent, one’s main concern would be their child. to outside eyes, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that jungkook is being taken advantage of and he’d be better off dating someone with the same status. sometimes you wish you were that someone too.

she utters your name sadly.

“he receives happiness and love from you. those are the most valuable things you could give to a person.”

she caresses your hair like she wants to erase the anxiety poisoning your mind.

“my dear, how come you’re worried about that until now? haven’t we told you? you’re part of the family. forget about my sister! i don’t welcome her negativity in our house!”

“living together is different. it’s a big deal. it normally happens in a relationship after…” the following words feel foreign in your mouth; they come out quieter than the rest of your sentence. “getting married.”

“then tell me. why did you agree to live with him?”

because you’re selfish. because you want more time that you can have him all to yourself. because you want to be accessible— the first person he runs to when he’s seeking comfort and stability. because you want goodnight and good morning kisses. because you were afraid of the risks but you’ve grown addicted to the thrill of love.

“he said… no matter how hard i push him away, he will stay within my reach.”

you hear your own shaky breathing. that moment— it’s still burned into your memory. you’re still holding on to it. it’s a promise he is yet to break and you pray that he never, ever does.

“i don’t want to push him away. i want to be within his reach too.”

you’re two people loving each other with everything within your means. after the endless pains and the deafening noise, you like to think that’s what makes this relationship worth fighting for.

“does my opinion still matter knowing that? will you let me stop you?”

“no, i won’t. i’d make you change your mind.”

if you had a machine connected to you, she would see how your heart rate has gone off the charts. but you’re known to say whatever’s on your mind and that, much to your dismay, isn’t switched off despite sitting infront of the woman who birthed and raised the love of your life.

you sniffle, pursing your lips nervously. “but i feel like there might be a right answer to that one.”

what you didn’t expect was her to laugh until her belly hurts; placing a hand over her mouth in an effort to calm herself down and keep grace.

“mom! stop, i’m so embarrassed!”

“no, ____, don’t get me wrong!”

she is teary-eyed as she gathers herself together.

“the more time i spend with you, the more i realize why jungkook loves you so much. i’ve seen him show incredible commitment twice. do you know that? first, when he went to seoul to become a singer. second, when he told us he got an apartment because he wants to be with you… of course, as his mother, i’ll admit that he’s young when he made those decisions, but he always proves to me that he’s smart and responsible.”

the urge to cry returns and strengthens as she speaks. you feel your eyelashes become damp with unshed tears. you don’t know how to act. you fiddle with your fingers. you stare at the strings and peels of the oranges you can still taste.

“i believe we both know jungkook’s personality well. he wouldn’t have let me stop him either. i’m happy to know that you’ll fight for him too.”

“thank you…”

“tsk, tsk, tsk- what is there to cry about? jungkook will get angry at me if he discovers that i made you cry.”

she wipes away your tears; however, the unmistakable scent of oranges that has clung to her hands and the affection in her tone bring forth a waterfall.

“seeing this makes me sadder.” she laments, referring to the stitches on your face.

“me too,” you babble in the midst of quiet sobs. “it makes me sad. it’s so ugly.”

—

you can’t remember the last time you felt this alone. perhaps it’s the effect of staying in an unfamiliar building of complete strangers. without your mobile phone, may you add. you managed to persuade jungkook’s mother to leave an hour ago because you didn’t want her to sleep on the uncomfortable couch.

the lights are turned off except for the lamp beside your bed, and with the television muted, you could hear a hairpin drop.

you’re alone and you can do whatever you want.

you dragged the visitor’s chair infront of the window to admire the garden like it’s a painting in motion. you watched people converse, stroll, and drink coffee. you watched them run for shelter when the clouds became too heavy and the sky began to fall. oh, so that’s why you couldn’t see the stars.

at this moment, there’s nothing left to amuse yourself with but the trembling of the leaves and the raindrops forming temporary rings when they fall in the water fountain.

your senses crave for more. you reach over and crack open the window, just enough to allow the sound of the rain and the scent of it permeating the earth to enter your room.

“this is kind of peaceful.” you whisper, amazed by the new lightness carried by your heart.

you close your eyes and you breathe in the petrichor deeply. you want nature in your lungs as a reminder that you’re alive. you welcome the cold wind kissing your face. you can feel your hair touching your neck. you always do, but for once, you’re choosing to acknowledge it. your thumb slowly brushes across the palm of your hand, perceiving the texture of your skin, the softness, and the lines. and your feet, they’re in the clouds, the fluffy slippers jungkook’s mother bought outside because she knows they’re your favorite to wear.

you’ve loved and despised this body for a million different reasons. your mind and heart have accepted defeat countless times, but your body wakes up to every brand new day without fail. your body implores you to live. did it finally give up on you today?

“baby!”

you look behind to search for the source of the sound.

you get your answer from the kiss planted on your lips.

you only saw his face for a split second, but even if you had your eyes closed, you’d know it has to be jungkook kissing you.

you can smell him. you’ve memorized the way the shape of his lips fits with yours.

oh, the sounds of his kisses too. you like to call them the butterfly call because they make butterflies appear in your stomach.

you could trace the scar on his cheek with your finger if you want to.

god, what a privilege it is to experience life in this vessel.

a knock on the door forces you to part too early. the same nurse from earlier enters and you internally scream all the curse words in your dictionary. jungkook acknowledges her with a bow and a quick ‘hello’ before squatting down infront of you.

“i committed another crime for you today.”

“huh?”

your wide, confused eyes take a glimpse at the nurse who is doing something with the controls of your iv line.

hahaha… she knows he’s not serious, right?

“what did you do?”

his smile is so big that his eyes have turned into little crescent moons. you’d make a guess but there is an infinite amount of things jungkook could possibly be this excited about.

…apparently, one of them would be strawberry cake.

you gape at the transparent box he was hiding behind his back all along.

“did you steal somebody’s birthday cake?!”

“it’s a producer’s birthday and he received lots of cakes, so he told me i can take one home.”

“how is it stealing if he allowed you to take it?”

he tosses his backpack on the couch as he sets down the box on the table. he rummages through the bag his mother left behind, successfully bringing out a spoon. meanwhile, you get your blood pressure taken again.

as he opens the box, he sends a smirk your way.

“no. i hid the strawberry cake because there’s so many who wanted to eat it.”

“are you crazy?!”

the nurse clicks her tongue. “don’t talk and stay still, please.”

“oh,” your hand flies to your mouth on instinct. “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry.” jungkook also apologizes.

you and your boyfriend secretly share a look, exchanging a smile that is stifled laughter inside. your lips remain zipped as the nurse restarts the process of taking your blood pressure. on the other hand, jungkook eats a spoonful of cake, teasingly wiggling his eyebrows at you. you roll your eyes and he tries harder to laugh without a sound.

seconds later, he grumbles about the room being too warm. he wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead using the back of his hand, and he does the worst thing he could possibly do at this moment. he reaches for his back, pulling his sweater over his head. naturally, his inner shirt rides up and allows wandering eyes a peak at his glorious toned abdomen.

passed out in the shower. busted your eyebrow open. front-row seat for a woman flirting and ogling at your boyfriend.

how fucking great.

“hello? i think it’s done.” you snap.

“a-ah, yes.”

you hear her swallow as she removes the cuff from your arm. she may be wearing a mask but she’s hot and red all the way to her ears. you’ve only read about it in books. you didn’t even believe this could happen in real life until now.

“i will check your temperature too.”

“go on.”

you repeat the same process from hours earlier, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you wait for the beep.

“yah, why is the window open? you’ll catch a cold.”

jungkook, yet again, steals the attention of every person in the room when he rises to his feet. his shadow casts over you as he closes the window.

“i wanted to smell the rain.”

“is the room getting too stuffy for you?”

you shrug. “i just wanted to smell the rain.”

you feel the nurse’s stare. you offer her a smile and her nameplate briefly gets caught by your vision. kang ji-woo.

“ji-woo; that’s a pretty name.” you pay her a sincere compliment. “it’s healing, don’t you think?”

“yes? uh-uhm, y-yes…” she replies, unsure and confused by the sudden small talk. “actually, it’s been linked to a reduction in stress and anxiety levels.”

“thank you! babe, did you hear that?”

“uhuh, think about my stress and anxiety levels.” he leans against the window with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you.

so now he’s flexing his arm muscles. cool, cool, cool. you know he’s not doing it on purpose and his entire existence is just naturally hot and it’s infuriating.

“i’ve been worried sick about you all day.”

his statement makes you frown for a new reason. at the same moment, the thermometer beeps.

“could you please tell him that i’m fine?”

“37.3, uhhh- that’s slightly above normal. how do you feel? does your head hurt? are you cold?”

“i feel fine though?”

“okay. please take a lot of rest and stay warm…” her gaze lingers at jungkook who is blocking the window. “keep the window closed. hopefully it won’t be higher when i check again later.”

seriously?! you could cry. you want to go home where it’s comfortable. where it’s only you and jungkook and bam.

but you bet somebody would be happy if you had to stay longer.

“i’ll look after ____.” your boyfriend sighs, pulling out a jacket from his backpack.

“you shouldn’t have kissed me. what if you get sick?”

your blatantness causes the nurse to pause in updating your chart. she awkwardly clears her throat. “yeah… that… that isn’t currently advisable.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll control myself.”

you earn a glare from jungkook, then he fakes a smile which you gladly return.

“before you go, may i request for a new blanket? sorry, i spilled something earlier.”

“sure thing! i’ll come back with that right away.”

—

“she seemed happy to leave.” jungkook remarks. “i can’t tell if you were actually being nice or being passive aggressive.”

you smile innocently, taking a bite off the strawberry you stole from the top of the cake. “i’m a fucking angel.”

damn it, why is he suddenly turned on?

were you serious about the no kiss rule?

“would you rather i be the type to pull their hair?”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “but you did slap someone once.”

“you want to see me that furious again?”

“never in my wildest dreams.”

he kisses the top of your head, producing an exaggerated ‘mmmwah!’ sound that makes you giggle happily.

“here, have some more cake.”

he offers you a spoonful of cake.

no, it’s bigger.

as a matter of fact, the piece could probably pass off as a cupcake.

you gawk at it as if you’re figuring out the logistics of putting it in your mouth. his heart does a flip when you tilt your head and do your best to take in the whole thing. however, in the middle of it, you decide that you can’t, and you end up biting it off a little more than halfway.

oh my god, he loves you. he loves you. you’re so fucking cute.

your cheeks are full as you struggle to chew. you cover your mouth with your hand but they don’t touch. you’re so elegant in your ways and sometimes he wonders how you’re still attracted to him after he acts stupid.

also, plain white nails? that’s new. you always want colors.

“your nails look pretty.”

he is so focused on you that he fails to take notice of another presence occupying the room.

“your mom did them for me.”

“i figured. she wants to do mother-daughter things with you.”

the short break of silence speaks volumes. you look at him, blinking with eyes hinting at a type of joy you’re lost on how to express.

“did you choose white?”

“no. we were watching a drama and it was the couple’s wedding.”

oh, that makes total sense.

“let me guess,” he trails off with a half-embarrassed, half-entertained smile. “she asked when we will get married?”

“why would she ask me that? how would i know?” you scoff.

his heart starts at a thousand miles per hour. fuck, are you hinting at him? are you messing with his feelings again? with you, he always needs to remind himself to be rational.

“i need more time to prove to you that i’m husband material.”

“what? stop it. i don’t care. i don’t need a ring.”

your unpredictableness pushes him to the edge of his seat.

“don’t pressure yourself. you already treat me way better than most husbands do their wives.”

the pride painted on your face is unmistakable. he feels his heart swelling in his chest. has he been doing a better job than he originally thought? after what happened today, he was terrified that he hasn’t been paying enough attention to you.

“i’m so happy with what we have.”

you offer him a delicate smile before eating the rest of the cake that was left on the spoon. he swears there’s a glowing halo above your head.

could your temperature have magically dropped in the past five minutes? would you kill him if he kissed you right now?

“is there anything else i could assist you with?”

and then he is rudely snapped out of his hopeless adoration and daydreaming.

“that’s all! thank you for your hard work!” you chirp.

he turns to the nurse with a lovesick grin.

“please come to our wedding.”

the unforeseen wedding invitation earns him a slap on the chest. he clutches the affected area, wincing in pain.

he hears you mutter. “don’t invite strangers to our wedding.”

the irritated glare he predicted to face isn’t there. rather, you’re wearing the flustered smile he only sees when he knows that he did something to make you fall for him all over again.

before ji-woo left, she tried to subtly reject the invitation by jokingly saying that she’d die to go, but most probably, she’d have to work that day. you know… being an overworked hospital employee and all. you caught her glancing at you with bitterness failed to be guised as indifference. you get it. you’d hate it if another person was in your place. frankly speaking, you could be miles pettier.

your boyfriend wipes the corner of your lips, thoughtless as he licks off the cake frosting from his thumb.

damn it, you wish she was also here for that.

“you haven’t stopped smiling.”

“you love me and you never let me forget that.”

you give an answer despite the lack of a question mark.

you just made his world stop spinning on its axis and you’re not even aware.

jungkook knows the heavenly feeling of knowing that he is loved, but he has never deeply considered the joy and relief when the person he loves believes that he loves them.

“i’m so lucky. i love you.”

you push yourself up to plant a kiss on his forehead. it’s a rarity he treasures and keeps.

“i love you too.”

he cries infront of you.

almost.

he excuses himself to the bathroom and cries in there a little.

you’re so easy to love— that’s why it makes him want to do difficult things for you. like commit more crimes?