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sbdskate · 7 months

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Laws Of Attraction (Part 8) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies (kind of)-> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff, language, slight angst, alcohol consumption, McLaren, bad jokes

Word Count: 4,277

A/N: I tried out some different writing styles this chapter and candidly, I’m not sure it’s my best work. There are more scenes from DR’s perspective and I found out that writing race dialogue is very difficult. I tried to stay true to the actual Abu Dhabi 2022. Please bear with me through this chapter, feedback of any kind is always appreciated. Please, thank you, and enjoy!

When you arrived at the paddock, Daniel was still distracting himself by taking pictures of literally everything, including the ground. You let him be though, no matter how silly it seemed. The last thing he needed was to psych himself out before the race. As you approached, the McLaren PR crew was already waiting with cameras to get content for the last Unboxed video of the season which was your cue to peel off.

“How are you feeling?” you asked hesitantly, making sure to keep an appropriate distance from your client.

“Honestly, I’m fine. Maybe I’ll feel different once the suit’s on, but right now I’m good.”

“You’ll let me know if you need anything, right?” He caught the seriousness in your tone and found it endearing you were being so protective of him. It seemed you were more nervous than he was.

“Actually, hold on,” he stopped walking.

“What? Is everything alright? Oh-” *click* “Daniel!” He laughed at your disgruntled expression as he lowered the camera.

“I’m fine, promise. I’ll see you after the race.” He gave you a polite pat on the shoulder as he began to walk away, but you grabbed his arm before he was out of reach and pulled him in for a big hug before you could second guess yourself. He didn’t think twice as he wrapped his arms around you. You quickly released him, reinstating the arm’s length between you.

“Good luck today, you’re going to do great,” you said as you composed yourself. He walked backwards continuing your extended goodbye, unable to look away from you.

“I know,” he said, with a cocky smile plastered on his face. *click*

You snorted, your stoicism overpowered by his charm. You waved one last time as a sendoff before he disappeared into McLaren hospitality.

As usual with race day, it was a lot of hurry up and wait. Daniel exchanged helmets with Lando and Zhou, sat for photos with the team, sat for photos with the grid. He tried to take in every detail. He laughed when he walked in the garage and saw his mechanics donning cowboy hats embroidered with “yee-haw thanks DR” and the outline of him doing a shoey.

Everyone seemed to think he would be walking around as though he were attending his own funeral, but for the moment he felt he didn’t have much to be sad about. He needed a break – from the spotlight, from McLaren, from training, from racing in general, and there was no shame in that. In twelve hours that break would become a reality, and that was something to be very happy about.

When it came time to change into his race suit, he waited with baited breath for the garment to exert some kind of magical force over him. He stood in his drivers room waiting for the tears, or nerves, or something. Everyone told him it would hit him when he put the suit on. But he examined himself in the mirror, widened his stance and put his hands on his hips. Power pose. No, he was still the same Daniel Ricciardo, despite what people tried to tell him. And this was just another race.

It was less than ideal starting P13 due to a three-place grid penalty carried over from the Brazilian Grand Prix after his run-in with Yuki, but Daniel pushed aside all the growing frustrations as he waited eagerly for the lights to change, feeling his pulse sync with the idled roar of the engine. The few seconds before the race played out in slow motion, as they always did. The rest of the pressures of the moment faded away as he focused on what was in front of him, ready to react. He was at peace, and allowed himself to feel the overwhelming therapeutic emptiness. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

And it’s lights out and away we go!

He survived the first lap shuffle and chaos, but lost a position to Lance. There was still plenty of race left though, and his goal first and foremost was a clean race without a DNF. Making it through the first few clustered laps unscathed was step one. Once the pack started to disperse, he began his grueling climb back to the points.

Here comes Daniel Ricciardo on the inside of Schumacker, gaining a place back.

It was lonely for a while. He extended his lead from Mick, but couldn’t seem to fully catch up to Lance. Lance pitted on lap 14, as expected with mediums if going for a two-stop strategy, allowing Daniel to gain a position. It subsequently opened up the floodgates, others shortly following suit bringing Daniel up to P8. He knew he would have to pit eventually, but if he could just nurse this set a bit longer and maintain this position as long as possible, he had a shot to finish in the points.

Lap 18, Daniel Ricciardo still hasn’t pitted yet.

Even in the last race, it shouldn’t have surprised him that McLaren would try to short stick him one last time. Good riddance he would be done with this circus in an hour. George passed him, as he expected in better machinery and on fresher tires.

He finally pitted on lap 20, switching to hards. The team did a great job with a 2.3 second pit stop but he came out in P18. He had a job to do, it was time to get to work.

Daniel Ricciardo, down in 18th place. Making some overtakes and having a bit of fun. Makes a lovely move on Kevin Magnusson going into Turn 9.

In quick succession, he picked off Mick and Bottas, Seb pitted, and somehow Alonso DNF’d. Before he knew it, he was back to where he started in P13.

Fernando Alonso has not had the best of luck, our first retirement of this evening. Mechanical failure. That is a real shame for him, real shame. Meanwhile, here comes Sebastian Vettel! Haven’t said that in a while. Very nice move on Pierre Gasly.

News at Alpine that there’s some water leak, that was why they had to pull Fernando in. He feels the unreliability there has cost him nearly seventy points during the course of this season. Since he came back to Formula One, well, the reunion with Alpine then Renault has ended in retirement. Sad for all parties. And this means that Fernando Alonso has been beaten by his teammate, Esteban Ocon. But I’ll tell you a bit more about that later, as Daniel Ricciardo manages to get past the Alfa Romeo of Zhou Guanou.

He encroached on Alex, smelling blood in the water. Even though Alex nicked the wall, he maintained the position longer than he thought. He had to respect the work the kid was doing in that tractor trailer of a Williams. The track conditions were cooling as the sun set, making it difficult to regulate the temperature of the tires.

Daniel Ricciardo trying down the inside there on Alex Albon. Now you saw what happened in Mexico when he tried that on an unsuspecting Yuki Tsunoda and they came together, but this time around they managed to keep apart. But uh, for McLaren they need to start clearing a few cars here. Norris is seventh. Ricciardo out of the points. Albon now pits.

He wished he could have overtaken Alex properly, but he wasn’t complaining as he gained another position. The second stoppers continued, moving his way up to P9. He could breathe a bit now that he was officially in the points. But it was short lived as his friend, former teammate, and mentor had popped up in his rearview, more than two seconds behind, but quickly closing the gap. There were still fifteen laps requiring him to preserve the tires while defending his position.

Sebastian Vettel is gaining a bit on Daniel Ricciardo in tenth place. Ten laps to go.

He almost missed the second Aston Martin in his rearview as Lance passed both of them. He shared Seb’s frustration that they were the sacrificial lambs of their respective teams testing out the one-stop strategy. He was still in the points for now, but Seb was an admirable adversary and with only seven laps left in the race he would not take the position for granted. With officially one second between them, he had to push. They were both on very old tires, but Seb’s were younger.

The two leavees, Ricciardo and Vettel. Vettel’s closing in on Ricciardo, and he’s going to get him in the next lap or so if the current pace keeps up. Five laps to go in the Formula One season, 2022.

And oh my God, what’s this? Hydraulic problem for Hamilton, as you can see as Carlos Sainz passes Lewis who’s still stuck in seventh gear! This might be curtains for Lewis Hamilton this evening. He’s got it down into fifth gear – oh. Oh no, this is disappointing.

As was the nature of racing, he wasn’t going to question his adversary’s misfortune. With a mechanical failure taking Lewis out, he moved back into P9. He was so close to the finish line he could taste it, but Seb was still less than a second behind.

The final lap. He saw the fireworks go off for Max, but he couldn’t lose focus.

Daniel Ricciardo under immense pressure from Sebastian Vettel. This is going to go all the way to the wire.

There’s twelve million dollars on Sebastian Vettel trying to overtake Daniel Ricciardo here, twelve million dollars if they can get extra points at Aston Martin to see if they can get above Alfa Romeo in the Constructor’s Championship. Is it Ricciardo or Vettel? Nineth or tenth? Both drivers leaving as of the end of this season. Ricciardo potentially to go as a reserve driver at Red Bull. Sebastian Vettel waving goodbye to Formula One and giving us thrills and excitement right to the checkered flag! Is he going to get past Daniel Ricciardo? It’s going to be close!

Ricciardo takes that nineth place, Sebastian Vettel scores tenth in his final race! And well, what did he say? “Remember these times, they might not last forever.” Sebastian, thank you. The memories definitely will.

Daniel's jaw unclenched to let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in that moved his whole chest, shoulders relaxing. He barely had time to process what he had just accomplished when his engineers came on the radio.

“Yes mate, P9. Good job. Finished in the points. Good stuff, good stuff.”

“Cheers guys, that was, uh, that was fun at the end. Think we did well to hold him off, well done. That was good.”

“Great race buddy. Great overtaking, that was a proper Honey Badger show, that was good.”

He bit his tongue. He could only be so pleasant to the people who had diminished his confidence over the last two years. Having officially crossed the finish line of his last race, he would remain polite and cordial but didn’t feel the need to suck up to them more than he needed to.

“Daniel, could I have Purple Default 64X. And if you could go back to Purple C1.”

He did as he was told, unphased by the short radio congratulations. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when a picture of his win at Monza last year popped up with the rest of the team. The memory of that day came flooding back and the feelings that went along with it. The triumph he finally felt. The renewed sense of hope for what may come with the rest of his tenure with McLaren. The Daniel in the picture had no idea he would basically be kicked out of the sport he loved so much in less than a year. He had no idea he would fall out of love with it, even as he was just starting to get his groove back.

“That’s cool,” he chuckled. “That’s really nice, thank you guys.”

“Cheers buddy. It’s been an honor, Daniel. It’s been an honor, really great good two years.” He hated the lump he felt in his throat. “I know we haven’t always had the results we’ve wanted, but we’ve had some pretty good ones along the way. And uh, I think I speak for everyone on the team when I say how much we’ve all enjoyed working with you.” He swallowed thickly, praying no one had eyes on the front facing camera in the car.

“Yeah, appreciate your efforts. Thank you…Alright, it’s nice to finish in the points. Well done guys. Thank you.” He did his best to switch the conversation back to race at hand, taking away the focus of the gravity and finality of the situation. Looking at it in isolation, away from the totality of the last two years, it was a good race. He continued to drive and wave around the track, doing some donuts here and there, but the gestures felt empty.

“Ok, so into the pit lane, and when you turn the engine off then go to P0. Kill the car and switch everything off.” The back of his eyes began to sting. Switch everything off.

“Understood. Uh, alright guys.” There was so much he wanted to say but he was never good with words, especially not at this moment. “Thank you. I think you know…how much I appreciate your efforts over the last two years. So… thank you.” He tried to keep his tone steady, but felt his voice crack. “And thanks for this display, on Purple C64. Cheers.”

“Yeah, 03 we weren’t really able to use I’m afraid.” He knew the engineers were only talking about the mechanical configurations, but the words felt like a gut punch. They were done with him. There was nothing more that needed to be said.

The feelings he had waited for all day, the ones everyone expected, suddenly hit him like an avalanche. He wanted to get out of the car desperately, but couldn’t do so when he was a mess like this. It was probably the last time for the rest of the night that he would have any time to be by himself with just his thoughts. It was done – and he realized again after taking a few moments to compose himself, maybe for now that was a good thing. What was it Seb had said?

“There are a lot more important things than racing in circles.”

He jumped out of the car, feeling the impact of the gravel below his feet. He stretched his limbs, finally free from the confines of the cockpit and was hit by a wave of relief that washed over him. He was free from expectations, restrictive diets, constant jet lag. Free from McLaren. All he had to do was get into his ugly orange team kit one last time for post-race interviews. He knew he would be asked hard questions, about his past and his future, but he was ready. He had nothing to be ashamed of, and if anything, had many things to be proud of. You’re the only driver to have won in that brick of a car in the last ten years you constantly reminded him. He finished the season on a high, including a great race battle with Seb. He was done hiding, done minimizing.

So he went from interview to interview, unafraid to be honest with himself and the world. It’s ok to admit that he’s had a hard time the last two years, that he’s happy to be taking some time away from the sport and to take care of his mental health.

He slowly made his way back to the McLaren garage as he pushed through the crowd, dodging fans trying to get selfies and autographs, politely declining additional interviews and comments from strangers. In a sea of blurred faces, he spotted you. One of the mechanics had gifted you an extra celebratory cowboy hat and you appeared to be in deep conversation with one of them. Your hands moved around animatedly as you spoke, like they always did when you were passionate about something. The mechanic laughed, and he wondered what joke you had told or whether you had said something unintentionally funny. He found himself smiling, excited to get the answer.

The mechanic noticed him first and waved. He touched your shoulder and pointed in Daniel’s direction. You squinted as you searched the crowd with intense focus. Daniel’s heart nearly exploded when your eyes finally landed on him – you waved eagerly with the biggest, brightest smile on your face that put all the track lights and fireworks to shame.

The mechanic gave him a quick hug and pat on the back first, adding a subtle wink for good measure before walking away, seemingly aware of the need for the two of you to have your own space. For the second time that day, you engulfed each other in a warm, firm hug that perhaps lasted a beat too long. He liked how you perched on your tip toes to get your head as close to the crook of his neck as possible. He liked the feeling of your small, delicate hands on his back. He liked that he could smell your hair products, distinct from the scent of your perfume, sweet florals and jasmine contrasting accents of patchouli and bergamot. He liked you.

“Congratulations! I’m so happy for you, you were amazing today,” you gushed.

“Thanks,” he said, knowing that the flush he felt in his cheeks wasn’t from the race.

“How are you feeling now?” you asked sincerely. He took a moment to think on it before answering.

“I’m not sure. Good I think, but tired.”

“That’s valid.”

“How was your day?” It was an innocent question, so he was confused when you laughed. He was just trying to make conversation. “What?”

“You just had your last race of the season and you’re officially getting out of your contract with McLaren tomorrow, and you’re asking me how my day went?” He shrugged.

“I’ve already talked about myself more than enough today. I want to hear about you.” Your laugh lines softened.

“Well, let’s see. I didn’t have to work, I met Usher, and I got to watch my friend’s last F1 race and he kicked so much butt. So I’d say it was pretty great.” His heart skipped a beat. Friend.

“You met Usher?” He glossed over the other stuff, unable to trust himself if you delved any further into the topic.

“Yeah, he was hanging out in the McLaren garage. Did not have that on my 2022 bingo card. But uh…” a sheepish grin grew on your face. “I don’t think he appreciated I kept dropping his lyrics in casual conversation.”

“Oh no,” he laughed, and the smile on your face grew.

“Y’know… just when I thought I said all I could say, he was like…yeah. And he also said -”

“Hold on let me guess,” he said between giggles. “You remind him of a girl he once knew.”

“You know…you would not believe all the things she put him through,” you said, joining him in laughter. He observed you playing with your hands behind your back, your chest puffed slightly, clearly finding great joy in your own corny jokes.

“Maybe if we’re lucky he’ll perform at the McLaren afterparty.” The words rolled off his tongue before he had the chance to think about what he was asking of you. It was one thing to go out with some of the other drivers offsite, but a McLaren sponsored event when you had been their adversary only a short few months ago was less than appropriate.

“You’ll have to let me know.” His heart fell a little, not missing the polite decline of his subtle invitation. He didn’t want to admit how much he truly needed you there. But he was on a roll with this whole honesty thing, so he bore his soul to you.

“I don’t want to go,” he said in a low voice, running an anxious hand through his hair. “I’m tired and I don’t know how I’m supposed to spend the night celebrating with these people. I can barely look half of them in the eye.” He couldn’t remember the last time he had begged for anything. He hoped his plea would be convincing enough, but you only gave him a sympathetic smile.

“You’ll be ok. Lando will be there, and there are plenty of people in your garage that had nothing to do with the decisions Zak or Andrea made. You still have people in your corner. Lots of them. And they want to celebrate with you.” He closed his eyes as you encouragingly rubbed the side of his arm, but finished with a firm pat. “Chin up. You’re almost done.”

Right. The race was only half the battle he would face today. Until the end of the day, he was still an employee of McLaren.

“Will you come pick me up if the kids at school are mean to me?” He always used humor as a defense mechanism, but he hated how much truth there was in the metaphor. You leaned in close to whisper your reassurance, a calm pleasantness in your shadow of a smile. You spoke slowly and deliberately.

“I will commit a felony and make it look like an accident if anyone is mean to you.” He was left grinning from ear to ear when you pulled away, your quiet resolve contagious as he felt his anxiety melt away. “You got this, and I promise I will celebrate with you after everything is signed tomorrow.” You extended your pinky, and he gladly linked his with yours in a solemn vow.

“Fuck ‘em all, yeah?”

“Fuck ‘em all.”

You sat in bed freshly showered, full body shaved, and facemask on. You felt guilty as hell sending your client off to the lion’s den with no support, so you had gone straight back to the hotel once he was out of sight. There was no need to go to the Amber Lounge or anything, not that you would even be able to get in without Daniel. Besides, you had your own personal Super Bowl tomorrow that you needed to be prepared for. You had ordered room service and shot off a few emails when you heard a knock. You checked the time – it was nearly midnight. You wrapped yourself in the cozy hotel robe for modesty before checking the peephole. To your confusion, but not surprise, you saw Daniel standing by himself in the hallway.

“Hi?” He looked up, admiring your frame in the doorway. You were just as beautiful in a robe and slippers as you were in a LBD and Louboutins. He bit his lip for a moment, clearly holding back a smile.

“Hi. Uh, I think you got something-” he trailed off, lightly brushing the tip of his nose with his finger.

“What? Oh! Fuck. Right.” You turned around to quickly rip the nose strip off your face. You winced, feeling the sting of the adhesive. You did your best to hide your discomfort and embarrassment with a smile when you turned back around. “Sorry about that. You’re back earlier than I thought.”

“Yeah. I figure I showed enough face for the evening. Plus big day tomorrow, right?” You nodded, unsure where this exchange was going as he fidgeted in place. “Also…” he looked around cautiously. “I didn’t want to get caught stealing this.” He pulled a bottle of very expensive champagne from behind his back, proudly presenting it to you. Your jaw dropped and morphed into a giant grin in spite of the arguably illegal activities that had transpired.

“You didn’t…For me?” You grabbed the bottle from him, feelings goosebumps form when your fingers brushed. “Wait. If I accept this, does it make me an accomplice or accessory after the fact?” He chuckled.

“I don’t know, you’re the lawyer. You tell me.” He took a step forward.

“Well. I’m not going to say no to a free drink I suppose,” you said, examining the bottle in your hands. He cleared his throat.

“I figured we could enjoy it after tomorrow – or, I mean, you could enjoy it,” he took another step forward. For reasons unknown, he seemed to lose confidence as the gap between you narrowed.

You looked back up at him, inspecting his condition. Perhaps he was a little tipsy, but he was far from being wasted which you were pleasantly surprised about given his apprehensions going into the evening. It either meant he wasn’t leaning on alcohol to handle his emotions, or he was taking tomorrow’s signing very seriously, or both. Whichever one it was, it demonstrated restraint and growth and you were proud of him for it. Admittedly, you had also been nervous leaving him to his own devices for the evening. You had wanted to go with him, to be there for emotional support. You had relied on the rationale that it was a McLaren sponsored event, but at this point the two of you had a consistent track record of blurring the lines of professionalism and friendship whenever you went out together. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him – you didn’t trust yourself.

But the man standing in front of you was composed and mature (relatively speaking, of course). Perhaps a little nervous, as you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. But nevertheless, even after the emotional, mental, and physical turmoil of the day, he stood before you with respect and poise. Yes, you trusted yourself with him wholeheartedly.

You took a step back, opening the door wider.

“How about we enjoy it now?”

Tags: @ravenqueen27 @leslizzle @zendayabelova @eitak-t @chiliwhore @wewoo1233 @thatchickwiththecamera

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sinkovia · 2 months

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Yes, Lieutenant: Final Part

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Yes, Lieutenant Masterlist

Everyone says that a person with warm hands needs to find a person with cold hands.

Simon had.

He had a habit of holding your hands, gently rubbing them together to keep you warm. Sometimes he'd even give you his gloves or slip your hands into the pockets of his hoodie. Taking care of you was his thing, and he loved it.

Your hand was cold, unnaturally so, and Simon's heart clenched with the bitter irony of it all. He wished desperately that his hands were the cold ones this time, that he could warm you back to life with his touch. But all he could do was hold on to you, his warm hand a feeble comfort against the chill of death.

His thoughts drifted back to the time he sat by your bedside when you were in a coma. He'd watched your chest rise and fall, holding your hand for hours to keep it warm.

But now, as he sat beside the frigid metal table that served as your temporary resting place, he couldn't help but feel a profound sense of emptiness. Your once vibrant presence had been replaced by stillness, your hand forever cold and unyielding no matter how long he held it.

Simon refused to leave your side. He was there when you took your final breath, when he yelled at the medic to bring you back, and when they finally wheeled your lifeless body to the hospital's basement morgue.

For hours, he remained there, unable to tear his gaze away from you. His eyes traced over every detail of your face, committing each curve and contour to memory. But it was the sight of the fatal wound that tore at his heartstrings, a painful reminder of the cruel twist of fate that had robbed him of you.

Simon held your cold hand as you lay on the metal table, lifeless and unmoving. He dropped his head against you, the weight of grief pressing down on him like a leaden shroud.

In his despair, he shifted slightly, and the pregnancy test slipped from your pocket, falling with a loud thud on the table. Simon lifted his head and froze when his eyes landed on the test, his shaky hand reaching out to grab it, flipping it over to see the positive two lines.

A rush of conflicting emotions flooded Simon's mind. He hadn't known you were pregnant, and now, as he recounted the events of the day, he remembered your sickness at the gas station, your vague explanation. Why hadn't you told him? Were you waiting until after the mission? The weight of these unanswered questions bore down on him with suffocating force.

As he stared at the pregnancy test, his heart twisted with sorrow and regret. Not only had you been taken from him, but you were also pregnant with his child. The realization hit him like a physical blow, the enormity of his loss crushing him with its unbearable weight.

You had both been planning to retire after the mission, he remembered the smile you had shared in the car on the way to the base. You had known you were pregnant, and you had both been looking forward to starting a new chapter of your lives together. But now, that dream lay shattered and broken, torn away from you both in the cruelest of ways. He sat there throughout the night, apologizing to you over and over again.

Simon was tormented by the relentless grip of guilt that consumed him in the aftermath of your death. The haunting memory of those final moments played over and over in his mind like a broken record, each repetition deepening the ache of loss and regret. He found himself trapped in a futile cycle of "what ifs" and "if onlys," desperately searching for a way to rewrite history and alter the course of fate.

But time was unforgiving, and there was no turning back the hands of the clock. You were gone, and that reality was an unchangeable truth he was forced to bear.

At your funeral, as they prepared to lower your casket into the earth, Simon stepped forward with two roses clutched in his trembling hands.

With a heavy heart, he placed one rose gently atop your casket, a tender tribute to the love you shared and the life you had lost. The other rose he laid beside it, a silent acknowledgment of the child you had carried, a life that was never meant to be.

As the mournful strains of the funeral dirge filled the air, Simon stood in solemn silence, his gaze fixed upon the two roses that now adorned your final resting place.

Simon's descent into despair was swift and merciless. With each passing day, the pain of your absence weighed heavier on his soul, driving him deeper into the abyss of grief and self-destruction. Alcohol became his solace, dulling the edges of his agony, while sleeping pills offered temporary respite from the haunting memories that plagued his sleepless nights.

The dreams of retirement and a future together that once fueled his hope were now shattered remnants of a life he could never reclaim. Without you by his side, Simon saw no reason to retire, no reason to live a life devoid of the love and light you once brought into his world.

In the chaos of missions, Simon's recklessness became his only escape from the suffocating grip of his grief. He threw himself into danger without hesitation, welcoming the prospect of death as a means to reunite with you in the afterlife. His love for you transcended the boundaries of life and death, a love that drove him to the brink of madness.

When Soap called out a sniper on the rooftop, warning of imminent danger, Ghost ignored the caution, his mind consumed by thoughts of you. As the bullet pierced his skull, ending his life in an instant, Soap watched in horror, knowing that Ghost had welcomed death with open arms.

For Ghost, death was not an end but a release from the unbearable agony of living in a world without you. And in the end, he got what he wanted – an escape from the pain that had consumed him since the day you were taken from him.

As Ghost's lifeless body plummeted to the ground, Soap couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his chest. It was a grim realization that Ghost's death wasn't just a result of battlefield chaos; it was a deliberate choice. Ghost had been chasing death, seeking solace in the oblivion it promised, a respite from the unbearable weight of his grief and loss.

With every gunshot echoing in the distance, Soap grappled with the harsh truth that he had lost not only you but also Ghost.

Despite Soap's desperate hope for a different outcome, he knew deep down that Ghost's fate had been sealed long before the bullet found its mark. Ghost's longing for death had been relentless, an unyielding force that led him down a path of self-destruction.

Ghost wanted to be dead.

And he always got what he wanted.

Simon's eyelids fluttered open, adjusting to the soft light of the early morning sun streaming through the window. As he became more aware of his surroundings, a faint humming reached his ears, a sound that he recognized immediately. With a sudden surge of energy, he shot out of the bed and raced through the open door, his heart pounding in anticipation. He followed the hallway until he reached a doorway, where he paused to take in the breathtaking scene before him.

There you stood, right in front of him, delicately placing a small teddy bear on a shelf in what appeared to be a nursery. Simon's vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. His gaze swept over the room, revealing a crib in front of you. Finally, you turned around, your eyes locking onto his. A warm, genuine smile graced your features, and you spoke his name softly,

"Si, I didn't expect you so soon."

He practically sprinted toward you, desperate to close the distance, enveloping you in a tight embrace as he sank to his knees. Apologies poured from him, a torrent of guilt and regret, expressing how he had failed you, how he should have gotten to you sooner, how it should have been him instead of you.

You gently pushed him back, cupping his face in your hands. "What happened was not your fault. Neither of us could have known. All that matters now is that we are together again." You guided his hand to your stomach.

"We're having a little boy."

His eyes widened at your words, and all the grief and regret that had weighed on his soul seemed to evaporate. He smiled at you, his gaze shifting from your stomach back to your eyes, his breath catching. "A boy, our own little baby boy," he whispered, his voice trembling with joy.

His anticipation peaked as he asked, "Do you have any names in mind?"

You thought for a moment, "What about Tommy? Or Joseph?" His smile faltered, his heart swelling in his chest as you mentioned his late brother and nephew, their lives cut short by the horrors of his past.

“Those are perfect love, either of those.” You stood up and guided him to stand with you, wrapping your arms tightly around him. He didn't hesitate to reciprocate, holding you close, his breath still shaky. “I love you so much, y/n.”

“I love you too, Si,” you smiled against his chest before pulling away to look up at him. “Wanna watch Kitchen Nightmares?” He laughed and hugged you tighter before lifting you up and carrying you to the living room, setting you down gently on the couch before cuddling next to you.

As the evening descended, casting a soft glow through the windows of your cozy home, you and Simon nestled on the couch, finding solace in each other's arms. The weight of loss lingered heavily in the air, yet amidst the sorrow, there was a profound sense of peace—a knowing that even death could not sever the bond you shared.

In the quiet of the room, you traced patterns on Simon's chest, your fingers dancing lightly over the fabric of his shirt. His gaze, filled with love and longing, met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Although fate had dealt you a cruel hand, robbing you of the future you had envisioned together, you found comfort in the knowledge that your love transcended the boundaries of mortality. It was a love that had weathered storms and emerged stronger than ever—a love that would endure for eternity.

As you leaned into Simon's embrace, you felt a sense of serenity wash over you, wrapping you in its gentle embrace. In the warmth of his arms, you found refuge from the pain of loss, finding solace in the knowledge that you would never truly be apart.

And so, as the weight of grief eased, replaced by a profound sense of peace. For although neither of you could live long lives together, you knew that in the afterlife, you would spend eternity beside one another, united in love, bound by an unbreakable bond that transcended time and space.

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itsplumwriter · 1 year

Text

Bucky Finds Out Your Boyfriend Is Abusive

POV: Bucky finds out your boyfriend just hit you and decides to confront him.

ok so this one is a little dark and obviously there will be several trigger warnings. if you can relate to this in anyway.. i am sooo sorry. God did not create relationships for us to be victimized or abused in. if you are in an abusive relationship right now please tell someone as fast as you can, know that you deserve better and need to be treated properly. if you escaped an abusive relationship and are dealing with the aftermath, please know that healing is a process; sometimes you'll feel great, other times you may relapse into despair; just know you are not your past, how they treated you doesn’t define you, and greater days are ahead - you made the right choice by getting out of there. I'll pray God watches over and blesses all your relationships, dolls <3

Dedicated to Bridget <33

Recommended song: shawn mendes - treat you better (slowed)

trigger warnings: abuse, bruises, toxic/abusive relationship, slight physical altercation

--- --- ---

Bucky was having the best time.

It had been forever since you had come over just to hang out; he'd almost forgotten how fun it was. Bucky had ordered pizza in. You brought over some chocolate ice-cream. And the two of you threw popcorn at each other while watching Disney movies and working on a puppy puzzle. It was a simple hangout, yet it meant everything to Bucky.

He missed you... a lot.

Ever since you started dating another agent from Shield you rarely had time to hang out with him anymore. He knew it was his own fault for not asking you out first. He had liked you for a long time, but he had waited too long... Nearly a year of flirting, but he never made a move.

He was afraid if he did he’d lose you as a friend altogether. And there was no chance of him hurting you if you were with someone else, so he figured maybe it was better this way.

The problem was you didn't even seem happy with this boyfriend of yours... you always looked drained when you came into work, as if you hadn't slept all night, and you were constantly on your phone responding to his incessant texts and calls.

There was a time when you even stopped smiling, stopped hanging out with the rest of the team, stopped talking to Bucky altogether.

Bucky was about to confront you about your change in behavior, but you kept turning down his invites to hangout, saying you and your boyfriend were too busy.

In reality it was because your boyfriend didn't want you hanging out with anyone else, especially Bucky. He gathered quickly the dynamic between you and Bucky and immediately categorized it as a threat. So, out of jealousy, he didn't allow you to see him except at work.

The fact was, you were miserable. The slightest thing could set your boyfriend off. You were walking on eggshells at all times trying to keep him happy. He hadn't hit you as of yet, but he had thrown things and yelled so loud it'd make you cry. You wanted to break up with him; but you were just so terrified of the reaction you kept putting it on hold.

He must have suspected this because today he finally agreed to allow you to see your best friend Bucky (as long as you agreed to text him before and after). You jumped on the opportunity.

You popped some popcorn into your mouth, watching Bucky scrunch his nose, concentrating on fitting a piece into the puppy puzzle.

You smiled… you missed him.

You had forgotten how nice it was to hang out with him. How easy.

There had been a light on-and-off buzzing sound all throughout your visit with Bucky that you'd been ignoring. When you heard it again, you realized what it was.

You nearly knock over the popcorn, searching your bag for your phone. Your stomach flips the moment you see it.

Apparently, your boyfriend had changed his mind about allowing you to hang out with Bucky and wanted you home immediately…. two hours ago.

Your heart sinks. “I've gotta go..." you utter.

"Already...?"

You barely nod before you grab your bag and scurry out of there.

"Alright… well then, I guess I'll see you lat--"

You slam the door before he can finish. You didn't mean to ignore him. But you were terrified. Terrified of the result of this.

Bucky's eyebrows were still furrowed long after you left. His eyes wander to the floor when he sees you left your wallet behind.

--- --- ---

Bucky approaches the door of your apartment, your wallet in hand. He'd come to return it as well as see what was the cause of your urgency.

It takes you a while to answer the door and when you do Bucky turns stark white.

You're holding an icepack to your eye, and there is blood on your lip and brow.

It takes you a moment to realize it’s him. You turn red from embarrassment.

"Bucky... I- I thought you were someone else..."

Bucky pushes his way in, lifting your chin to inspect your face. "Y/N?? What happened to you?"

You drop your gaze. "Nothing... I'm fine.”

Bucky starts looking around the apartment.

"Did your boyfriend do this to you?" he asks, urgently.

You don't answer him. You can't even look at him.

Bucky begins searching the entire apartment.

"Where is he??"

"I don't know..."

"Y/n!! Tell me!!"

"I don't know! The bar maybe?... Why?"

Bucky nods, storming out the apartment.

"Bucky, where are you going??"

Before you knew it, he was gone.

--- --- ---

Bucky strides into the bar, fuming at this point. It only takes him a few moments to spot your boyfriend by the bar table, talking to a group of people.

The guy is all smiles and without a scratch on him. This makes Bucky even madder.

Your boyfriend spots him and cheers. "Hey! Metal man! What are you doing here?"

He doesn't know Bucky that well. In fact, he seemed to go out of his way to ignore him at work, especially after finding out Bucky was such good friends with you. But his fake charm had always been a part of his façade. Bucky couldn't believe he never realized it. Never realized this man was abusive.

Bucky doesn't break his momentum; as soon as he's close, he shoves him hard on the shoulder and snatches him by his neck, making his grin vanish into thin air.

The bar quiets down to eavesdrop.

"I'm not going to hurt you, because I'm not that guy anymore..." Bucky says, through gritted teeth. "But if you touch y/n again... Rule #2 won't be the only thing I'll break around here..."

Bucky releases him, turning to leave quickly before his anger lands him in jail.

"I don't see how it's any of your business, Barnes..." he calls out, adjusting his collar.

Bucky stops mid-walk.

"I mean, she's my girl... I can do whatever I want…”

Bucky turns around, moving on him like a hyena before grabbing his neck, lifting him clean off the ground and slamming him hard against the table.

He growls. "Don't test me..."

With Bucky’s hand on his neck, he makes small gurgling noises and turns red before conceding.

"Alright!!" He manages to squeeze out.

Bucky releases, dropping him to the floor with a thud.

Random drunkards in the bar start whistling and cheering for Bucky.

But Bucky's expression doesn't change. He storms out the bar, headed back to his main area of concern. You.

--- --- ---

"Y/n... you still in here?"

Bucky steps into your apartment cautiously.

You get up from the couch. “Bucky... what happened?"

Bucky goes straight to your room, pulling a bag from your closet and throwing clothes in from your dresser.

“I almost ripped his head off… but I didn’t. I’m pretty sure he’ll leave you alone now though.”

You watch Bucky packing your clothes. “What are you doing?"

“You're not safe here... He could come back to your apartment...”

Your heart warms at the sight of his actions. The act was sweet. Bucky had always been sweet. The only guy who actually cared and was a good friend to you. You needed to tell him. It was unfair to keep it a secret any longer.

"Bucky, you should know, I never really liked him... I've always really liked you."

Bucky turns white, clearing his throat. "Do you wanna stay at Nat's house tonight?"

"...Bucky, did you hear me?"

"Hmm?"

You purse your lips together. "What do you think about what I just said..."

Bucky doesn't respond, continuing to fling your clothes into your bag.

“Bucky…?”

Your stomach twists with embarrassment. "Look, if you don't feel the same way, you can just say so, but don't act like you can’t hear me--"

"Y/n, of course I feel the same way!" he blurts and it silences you. "And I feel sick to my stomach I waited so long to tell you... waited so long that you had to waste your time with that clown... If I had just admitted it earlier that jerk wouldn't have had the chance to... I should have just... this is all my fault."

Bucky plops down on the edge of your bed, burying his hands in his face, starting to sob.

You wait a moment before approaching him, putting your hand on his shoulder. "Bucky, this isn't your fault... like at all."

Bucky sighs. "Thanks, doll… but I know it’s not true…”

You lift Bucky’s chin with your hand. “Listen to me Bucky. This is his fault… and his fault alone. You hear me?”

Bucky looks up at you, examining your bruises again, putting his hand on your cheek. "Does it hurt, doll..."

You shake your head, softly wiping his tears. "Not really... I’d say it’s getting better.”

Bucky nods.

“Ill drive you to Nat’s house. But after that, what do you need? Is there anything else I can do?”

You shrug. “… Nothing you haven’t already done since the day we met… Just be there for me.”

—- —- —-

hope you guys liked it <3

Follow me on insta: https://www.instagram.com/itsplumwriter

Join our community: https://www.patreon.com/itsplumwriter

<33

love you dolls! xo

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liyazaki · 2 years

Text

a scene™: on rage, regret & yes- joy

I already wrote a tag novel on this but I can't get this scene out of my mind & it deserves a deep-dive, so- buckle up, kids.

the heartwrench started in earnest when Vegas stormed out of the bathroom and Kinn turned to- or on to- Porsche. look at the small but striking journey Porsche's expressions go through here:

I'm praying to the BL gods that we get some BTS commentary on this moment in particular because there's so much that could be happening with Porsche here.

maybe in his tipsiness he was just happy to have Kinn there before the reality of Kinn's rage hit him. maybe it was some of that gleeful sass in response to Kinn's jealousy that we saw earlier in the ep.

or it could have a darker meaning: is that little smile a knowing one? a confirmation of the doubts about Kinn's sincerity/intentions that have been brewing in Porsche since he found out about Tawan?

regardless, all are loaded/potentially devastating possibilities.

Kinn and Porsche then exchange slaps and verbal barbs, but it's much more than the sum of its parts. they both have so many fears, insecurities and lack of trust in each other (and themselves, too) that they've been carrying around since this intoxicating, terrifying thing between them started.

the powder keg was already loaded & ready to explode- the altercation with Vegas was just the spark that lit it.

I'm glazing over the rest of the argument to the aftermath because that's where things really get narratively delicious. I've always been a sucker for a good chase- the idea that someone not just wants but needs you to the extent that they'd pursue you- and Kinn's desperate need for Porsche to stay with him is on full, aggressive display here.

he moves so quickly after Porsche that it comes off as an instinct, not an intentional choice- a magnet chasing its opposite polarity.

there's this moment against the mirror where they continue to struggle against each other, but it couldn't be more half-hearted. the mutual stare-off is intense as they size each other up. Kinn is a brick wall of determination, but we all know Porsche could easily get out of his grip & that room if he wanted to. which way is he gonna go? the tension in this moment was palpable (all hail MileApo for acting their damn faces off).

and then, Porsche caves- literally. he curls into himself in a defensive posture against the mirror, clearly pissed about giving into this insufferable man he loves- but he does it anyway, because it's Kinn. one of the hallmarks of their relationship is how mutually weak they are for each other, despite all the reasons they "shouldn't" be.

once Kinn realizes Porsche is staying with him- at least for the moment- this deep, yawning regret paints his expression, tinged with a sort of loneliness (not surprising after the life he's led), replacing the rage. there's a different sort of tension here now- this feeling of walking the edge of a knife, knowing one wrong word or move could end the fragile sort-of peace.

Kinn's terrified in this moment: not just at the possibility of losing Porsche for good, but the past repeating itself. of how the world seems stacked against his happiness- maybe even how he himself (and what he's had to become/endure) stands in the way of it.

Kinn didn't wax poetic here because, in my opinion, he can't: he's in the midst of a total emotion onslaught, holding onto this man who's become so precious to him for dear life. but he has to say something, do something, so he goes for simplicity: I'm sorry.

we linger here for a minute, the camera purposefully moving in Kinn's direction then Porsche's, the mirror giving us a full 180 view. again, the ball is in Porsche's court. the choice is his.

I've said it before, I'll say it again: Porsche is a mirror, reflecting back whatever he's given (or not given), which makes the use of mirrors here all the more chef's kiss. Porsche also needs words to go along with actions, so as small as that apology was- it's exactly what he needed to hear.

he didn't want this fight, he didn't want that kiss from Vegas- he wants to stay with Kinn, be with Kinn, in spite of everything they're up against. there are so many layers here, but it's really pretty simple: it's love. stupid, wonderful, intoxicating love.

I love how slowly Porsche turns to Kinn here- it says "I'm not fighting; I'm not fleeing." and Kinn turns with him, again moving with him like he can't help himself.

and then: Porsche fully faces Kinn and my heart stopped. this isn't an expression we've seen him wear in front of anyone: it's soft but feels like a raw nerve. naked, vulnerable- it says, "you did wrong. I'm hurting, but I'm here. now show me how you really feel. heal what you hurt." Kinn strokes his hair with a breathless sort of wonder, not quite believing his luck that he's still there.

and then, the moment that shoots this scene into the stratosphere for me: Porsche doesn't move. this constantly-joking, light-hearted gremlin of a man doesn't do a thing to ease the tension- and he's so right for that.

he lets the silence stretch on, and Kinn takes his cue: this is his moment to demonstrate his deep remorse and affection for Porsche. so- he starts worshipping him. smartly, he doesn't move in for a kiss first- this would put them on too equal footing- not until they both get caught up in the heat together.

when they do kiss, Porsche grabs Kinn's chin and gently pulls him away, and Kinn nods to him in reassurance. I like to think he's saying it's OK to surrender, that he's safe with him- and once again, that was all the reassurance Porsche needed.

damn Tumblr's 10 image limit to hell because Kinn's expressions of pure, utter joy when Porsche touches him back is just incredible. Porsche mirrors (heh) that joy right back, delighted in his ability to make this man weak in the best possible way. it’s a beautiful, sexy sliver of happiness in the middle of the unstable chaos that is their reality- and really, their relationship.

and afterwards, when Porsche grabs Kinn as tightly to him as he can, Kinn in near-tears pressed against his shoulder? Porsche's face tight with his own emotions and empathy for the man in his arms? there's this feeling of inevitability; that they couldn't pull themselves away from each other if they wanted to...come what may.

POETIC CINEMA, my friends. poetic, smutty cinema.

#kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #kinnporsche ep 7 #kp meta #kinnporsche meta #mileapo #kinn x porsche #mile phakphum #apo nattawin #thai bl #bl drama #kinnporsche*

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befuddled-calico-whump · 1 month

Text

Total $hit$how: Good Cop

in which Jericho cracks a wall

cw: aftermath of violence, adult language

previous // masterlist //

×~×~×

When Harbor's hour was almost up, Jericho made his way back to the briefing room, a hopeful plan at the ready and a nervous feeling in his gut, every step closer to the door jiggling at his nerves like jello.

The word interrogation didn't exactly fill his head with pleasant images. In movies, it was usually portrayed as torture, ineffective on the protagonist but shockingly useful against any minions the heroes snatched for intel. In real life, he'd experienced something like it once or twice. Corporate cronies trying to grill a confession out of him; entrapping questions intended to get him to admit to anything they could twist into something worthy of an arrest. Those were some of the scariest moments of his life, and even though he'd insisted on his own ignorance, in the end he was only saved by a lack of evidence of his hacking activities (hacktivities?).

Jericho's own encounters had been pretty mild, but he still wasn't eager to put anyone else through it.

Then again, this was just a challenge, wasn't it? Succeeding didn't mean they'd suddenly be required to hurt Finley, it only meant Sahota wouldn't kill her. If they managed to win, maybe they could pursue Joy's original idea and just talk to the woman. Whether she was a hardened criminal or not, surely she'd be willing to help if she knew the safety of the city was on the line.

…But that was all a big if. Unless Harbor had managed to pull a trick out of his hat, no one had been successful so far, which left Jericho. Jericho going toe-to-toe against Sahota's boundless willpower. No big deal, just a stranger's life hanging in the balance.

If he failed, could they still back out?

There were other avenues. Both Sahota and Vic had been clear on that, but the group's own insistence had gotten them to this point. If they completely gave up on Finley as a lead now, they'd have just wasted a day, and he doubted Vic would be very happy about that, but between wasting a day and throwing away an entire person, Jericho knew what he'd choose.

From the moment the challenge was announced, he knew what method he'd be using. Bad-cop good-cop, sans the bad-cop. In his experience, difficult people could be swayed to a cause if the reason behind it was just explained, if he pled to their humanity and compassion. And sure, some people were so far up their own bias that they'd refuse to listen, but it was worth a try.

Hell, it was how he got Ari to take a chance on asparagus.

He was prepared to act on the same technique he'd use if they actually won, if they got a chance with Finley: Just talk. A conversation might be all they needed. The Reality Cage was potentially destructive. If Finley knew that, knew what was at stake, wouldn't she help them? It wasn't even as if she'd be responsible for destroying it. She'd just have to tell them how. Some part of her had to exist that would want them to succeed, to save people.

Jericho was inclined to believe that the same could be said about Sahota. He'd given them this chance in the first place, hadn't he? Why let them try at all, unless he wasn't too keen on killing Finley either? If that was true, if this was more than just a lesson in their own inadequacy, Jericho had hope that this whole mission wouldn't wind up as violent as he feared.

Footsteps drew his attention back to the corridor ahead, and he looked up to see Harbor, head drooping, wild multicolored hair obscuring his face. His walk was usually something between a sway and a stumble, but it looked more erratic now, with him nearly bumping into the walls as he went.

“Hey,” Jericho started, but his voice caught when his gaze landed on Harbor's hands. His knuckles were red, skin splitting in some places, blood drying in the lines of his fingers. Totally cut up, and not from the morning’s sparring matches, so that meant… Jericho’s stomach twisted.

Sahota.

Harbor didn't look up, passing right by him as if he wasn't even aware he was there.

“Harbor—”

“Fuck off,” he said in a voice that sounded bitten off, and disappeared around the corner. Jericho had to stop himself from chasing after the other man, from asking what happened.

It was pretty clear what had happened, but why? Harbor was rough around the edges, but he didn't seem like the kind of person who enjoyed hurting someone else, especially not a someone else who was already injured. A part of him hoped that he was jumping to conclusions, that Harbor had just… punched the wall or something to try and intimidate their trainer. But before he made it to the end of the hall, before he could even open the door, he knew what he would see.

An anxious sort of nausea built in Jericho’s stomach as he took in the scene, deliberately avoiding the focus of it as long as he could. The briefing room had been cleared, the big table pushed to one side to make space for the day's challenge.

In the center, tied to a chair, sat Sahota. Blood and spit hung from his face in sticky strands, and his head sat heavy atop his shoulders, like he was struggling to keep it up. His cheek was split, the cut on his lip reopened and dribbling blood, and the eye that had been bruised was now nearly swollen shut.

Jericho’s heart beat faster.

“Is your plan just to stand there?” Sahota mumbled. “Or do you have a better idea?”

And he was just acting like it hadn’t happened. Jericho had already gathered that Sahota didn't like to show any weakness, but this was bigger than pride. Their trainer had been hurt, while he was tied down, by someone who was supposed to be on their team.

“Are you okay?” He clearly wasn't.

“Fine.”

“Did Harbor do this?” Why was he asking such stupid, obvious questions? Why couldn't he make himself step forward to untie the other man? Because of how little he wanted to believe it was true? Because of how surreal it was?

“I… I told him to,” Sahota replied.

What? Hadn’t he warned them all not to do anything he couldn’t sleep off? No matter how tough Sahota was, this didn’t look like it fell into that category.

“Let me cut you loose,” Jericho said, finally breaking a leg free of the uncertainty that held it captive, taking a step closer.

“No,” Sahota said, and he froze in his tracks. “Do what you came to do or get out. I don’t need your help.”

Jericho grimaced. “Should we really continue? You should get cleaned up, maybe—”

“I said I'm fine.”

Same song, different verse. He'd said he was fine yesterday, even after they'd all seen the video that so clearly told them he wasn't.

“Sahota…”

“Davis,” he answered in a clipped tone. “If you can't ignore the blood, leave.” He took a shaky breath, coughed, sent little flecks of red flying. “Tell me what information you're after and pursue it, or get out.”

Jericho exhaled through clenched teeth. It was pretty clear that no matter what he said, their trainer was determined to suffer through this. Was there any point in continuing? He could just leave. Walk away, abandon Sahota to his own wounds and pride, but it didn't feel right. What would happen? How long would it take Sahota to get free on his own? Better to finish the exercise and hope his trainer allowed help after it was completed.

“Okay,” he said, letting out a resigned sigh. “I want to know your first name. That’s what I’m after.”

“Then get on with it.”

Jericho took a deep breath. Ignore the blood. How was he supposed to do that?

“Hey,” he began, forcing a smile. “My… uh, my name's Jericho. I have a few questions for you, and…” he couldn't stay on track with this. He couldn't just pretend Sahota wasn't actively in pain in front of him.

“And I'd like to apologize for any rough treatment you received before I got here. It… that wasn't my intention,” he said. “I didn't want to hurt you.”

Sahota scoffed. It sounded closer to a wheeze. “Do you think Finley will buy that?”

“I don't… Maybe.” Jericho sighed. “Let me start again. Hey,” he said. “You… uh, you have some information that I need. Pretty badly." Everything he said just sounded dumb. "I want to know your name. Sounds weird, I know, but this… you could help me stop a lot of people from getting hurt.”

“What if she doesn't care?” Sahota said.

“There's hundreds of thousands of people in this city,” Jericho continued, trying not to let the other man's words deter him. “Right now, all of them are at risk. If you’ll just work with me here, we can keep them safe.”

Sahota didn't answer. And really, he had a point. Even if Finley did care about the well-being of the city, she’d have no reason to believe anything they said. How could they convince her?

“My family doesn't live here,” Jericho tried. He was truly thankful that they didn't. Having to worry about their safety, their potential destruction at the hands of an uncaring company would be terrible.

“My mom, daughter, aunts, uncles, cousins… they're not the ones in danger," he continued. "But people like them are. I’d never be able to sleep again if something just… destroyed people's lives. Something I could've prevented.” He clasped his hands together, hoped the motion looked sincere. “That's why I'm here. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to be your enemy. I just want to help people.”

Jericho sighed when that didn't get a response. He shouldn't be too disheartened. Sahota probably just didn't have much energy for conversation. Not after Harbor… did that. He glanced down at his own knuckles, still sore from fighting the taserbots just a few days ago. He'd saved Harbor. He’d thought they were finally starting to meld together and work as a team, but teammates didn't do this to each other. Even if Sahota had ordered it, why would he take it that far?

“I'm sorry about what happened,” he said. “I know someone on my team hurt you.” He swallowed. “Whoever… whoever touched you was in the wrong. You didn't deserve to be hurt like that, and… I'm sorry.” He was. He really was. He'd need to find Harbor after this. They could talk it out.

“I won't let it happen again,” Jericho said. “If someone tries to touch you, just let me know, okay? I'll stop them. I know I'm basically a stranger, but I promise I want to help you. I promise you're not alone. I—”

He stopped at an odd noise. A catch in Sahota's breath, a sound that was oddly familiar but out of place. It took a second for Jericho to realize that Ari made a sound just like it sometimes. When she was trying not to cry.

“Sahota?”

No answer, just another shaky inhale. Shoot, he knew he shouldn't have proceeded, not when he was all beat up like this. Even with Finley on the line… Vic be damned, he'd fight for it to be nothing more than a wasted day. He was fine abandoning the lead, he was fine admitting defeat here.

He wasn't fine leaving Sahota like this.

Jericho exhaled sharply through his nose, crossing the room in two strides to reach the chair their trainer was strapped to and setting to work on the knots. Surprisingly, Sahota didn't tell him off this time, just sat with his head bent and his shoulders shaking.

Why was he crying? Of course, Jericho couldn't blame him. He was probably overwhelmed with everything that was going on, and this was just the straw that had broken the camel's back. But what was ‘this’? What had been his breaking point? Had something he said triggered it?

He fumbled with the ropes, eventually managing to find a weak point in each knot and pull them loose, letting the bindings coil to the floor.

Now with his arms free, Sahota buried his face in his hands.

“Fuck,” he whispered in a thick voice. “I… I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Jericho said, taking a step back. The other man refused to look up. He could understand if he was embarrassed. Holding up an emotionless, unshakable facade all the time must be exhausting, but it would also be jarring to ever let it drop. He got it.

“The exercise is over,” Sahota said, still not raising his head.

“Alright.” Jericho couldn't let himself be mad about it. He'd given it a try, but if their trainer was just too overwhelmed right now, and no way was Jericho going to push him further. They could worry about Finley later. “Seriously though, are you okay?” he said. “There's no shame in not being fine. I know you're under a lot of stress.”

It took a moment for the other man to respond. “Go wait by the mats. I need to reset this room.”

I need some time alone.

“Okay,” Jericho said softly, backing towards the door. “Do you… want a hand getting patched up?”

“I'll handle it.”

Alright. He wouldn't push him. “Okay,” he said again. “I… guess I'll give you some space.”

It felt like it was all for nothing. Their idea for a peaceful approach had already resulted in violence, and for what? They’d all failed. They were no closer to their goal than they'd been yesterday.

He had one foot out the door when Sahota called after him.

“Davis.” It wasn't loud. It sounded uncertain, like he might ‘nevermind’ him and send him on his way. Jericho turned around, determined to be patient, to show he was at least willing to listen, even if their trainer said nothing else. But instead of sitting silent, instead of ordering him off, Sahota spoke. His head stayed bowed, hands tangled tightly around each other, eyes on the floor.

“It's Ander,” he said. “My name is Ander.”

×~×~×

tag list:

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden , @snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa , @whumpcateyes , @clickerflight

#ive been sitting on this for too long #it's not perfect but its gotta get out there at some point eh? write and don't look back too hard #total$hit$how #aftermath of whump #blood #beaten #angst #whump writing

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lulublack90 · 3 months

Text

Prompt 8 - Headphones

@jegulus-microfic February 8 Word count 940

Previous part First part

CW- Blood, cuts, the aftermath of torture.

Time slowed as they descended the stairs. Each step took an age. By the time he reached the bottom and stood at the door to the cellar, he was certain that an hour had gone by. In reality, it had been less than a minute.

Sirius reached around him and opened the door.

“Come on, James. He needs us.” Sirius urged him, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. James nodded and walked through the door.

He was immediately hit by a strong, metallic smell—Iron—Blood! It was too dark to see clearly, but he could make out a figure slouched on a chair in the middle of the room.

Sirius muttered a charm. A floating orb appeared, illuminating the small room.

James gasped at the sight before him. Regulus’s head was lolling back, his face swollen and bruised. His body was covered in thin slashes, slowly oozing blood. James looked down at the pool of red collecting on the floor around the chair and grimaced.

This was his fault. Regulus suffered because of him.

He rushed forward, determined to help him. He yanked at the ropes, binding Regulus to the chair. Regulus groaned weakly at the movement.

“It’s alright, love. I’ve got you.” He murmured into Regulus’s ear. Sirius had pulled open the slim cupboard in the corner and started rummaging through the collection of glass vials.

“What do we need?” He shot over his shoulder at James.

James looked Regulus over again.

“Blood replenisher, pain potion and dittany if they have it.” James heard the clatter of vials being moved aside, and then Sirius was beside him, ripping the stoppers out with his teeth.

“Reg, sweetheart, I need you to open your mouth so we can give you the potions.” He carefully lifted Regulus’s head upright and tried to pry his jaws apart. But Regulus chomped down, refusing to cooperate.

“Regulus you absolute prat. Open your damn mouth, and let us help you!” Sirius butted in, taking a different approach to James.

James stared in wonder as the younger man shot daggers at his brother but opened his mouth just wide enough for the potions to be poured in.

“That’s the blood replenisher. The next one’s a pain killer, okay, Reggie. You’ll start feeling better in a minute.” Sirius assured his brother as he tipped the second vial into his mouth.

James started using the basic healing charms that he knew. At least nothing seemed to be broken. He could heal cuts and bruises alright, but bones were another matter.

Soon, Regulus’s face looked almost back to normal. The bruises would fade completely in the next day or two.

James decided it would be easier for Regulus and themselves if he laid down, so he transfigured the chair into a cot and helped Sirius to lie him down flat.

Sirius pulled out his headphones and carefully placed them over his brother’s head.

“What the fuck have you just put on me.” Regulus’s hoarse voice croaked. He seemed more alert, so the potions must be helping.

“Headphones,” He said as he pressed play on his walkman. “Brand new muggle technology. Thought it might help you relax while we fix the rest of you.” James had already started healing the cuts along one of his arms.

“Ugh, fine. Who’s singing?” Regulus didn’t have the energy to fight his brother, and the music blocked the sound of his healing skin.

“Bowie,” Sirius answered simply.

“Bowies shit,” Regulus complained through gritted teeth.

“Only because you’re a heathen. Bowie is magical. Do not dis, Bowie!” It took James a few frustrated moments to realise that Sirius was deliberately bickering with Regulus to keep his mind off what they were doing to him.

He healed the last cut on Regulus’s left arm. His fingers brushed against the ugly black brand on his forearm. How different their lives could have been if Regulus hadn’t joined Voldemort. He drew his eyes away from the mark and started healing the next section.

They healed every cut, and Sirius had the bright idea to add the essence of dittany into his body cream to make it easier to get it on all of Regulus’s sore body.

When they were finished, Regulus cracked open an eye.

“Can I go to sleep now?” He asked quietly. James and Sirius looked at each other, knowing they needed to get something from him, or Moody would come straight back down here, and they wouldn’t be allowed back down again.

Not yet, love. We need some information. Something important that we can give to Moody.” He stroked his cheek delicately with the backs of his fingers.

“Was this the plan all along? Bad Auror Moody, and then you two come in all, ‘let us save you, Reggie.’” He looked hurt like they were playing with him.

“What? No, of course not. We had to plead with Mad-Eye just to be allowed to come down here.—”

“We’re trying to help you, you git. Do you really think James would try and trick you like that?” Sirius butted in, trying his more direct tactic again.

Regulus looked up at James sadly and nodded.

“Okay. I’ve got something. But I get to keep these things.” He pointed at the headphones. Sirius looked outraged.

“I’ve only just got them. Plus, you don’t even like Bowie.” Regulus gave him a small smirk.

“He’s growing on me.”

“Gah. Fine. Keep them. Now tell us the information you have.” Sirius gave in quickly. This was more important than a walkman. Regulus swallowed hard and stared into James’s eyes as he told them.

“He’s going to attack the Ministry.”

Next part

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trafalgarlogy · 10 months

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🍓 — HOLD ME || Y. Apollo

; [ Record Of Ragnarok / Shuumatsu No Valkyrie ]

💌 — New Notification from LOVE MAIL !! — " @AKI is back to writing !! "

# — WARNING(s) !! yandere themes, gore, fem! reader, the reader is a mortal(ass always), apollo has corruption kink fr, Stockholm syndrome, bad writing, not proofread, long, ig? .etc.

# — NOTE !! Well, i'm back writing, yay, i was originally thinking to get back with yandere! beelzebub, but when I saw apollo my jaw dropped to the ground, like WTF?! why so HOT!? hello? sir? and now here we are doing a yandere headcanon on him-

( i ) — DAWN | HOW DID YOU MEET?

Apollo, The Most Beautiful God of The Greek Pantheon, was known to be a womanizer among the gods and envied by many, who could capture any woman's heart in just a glance.

Though the sun god had everything he wanted, having the most beautiful deities head over heels in love with him; though he always felt like there was still something missing, his heart always felt empty even after all the luxury he had; he didn't understand, why?

and it became the sole reason, he had sleepless nights, he would restlessly try to look for the answer to the question, 'What was it that his heart was craving and missing all this time?'

One day, he was walking through a flower field, in the mortal realm, admiring the mesmerizing view of the sunrise from the horizon, as a new day and a new beginning started in the lives of mortals.

He looked around the flower field looking at the fragrant and vibrant around, when his eyes stopped around on a corner to see a woman, sitting peacefully admiring the sunrise like him; suddenly he felt his heart racing at the sight of this mortal woman.

he walked closer towards her direction to get a clearer of the female, he stopped at a safe distance admiring the woman's beauty.

her (h/c) hair looked luscious, her (e/c) were like the stars in the night sky, her lips looked alluring, and her (s/c) skin was so soft and delicate that it gleamed as the sun rays hit her figure making her more appealing and attractive; at the sight of this beauty, Apollo's heart beat faster, he reached his hand to touch his chest to feel his heartbeat, he was breathing heavily.

He was questioning himself, what was this feeling?....was it love?....was it lust?....or was it something?; he felt a rush of emotions at the moment as he admired the mortal woman from a distance.

after a while of being lost in his thoughts, he snapped back to reality, he took a deep breath and slowly approached the female; she had a smile on her face at her peaceful face, " it is surprising to see a mortal this early, no one is out during this time, why are you? " Apollo said with a charismatic smile painted on his face.

the woman turns to look at him with her (e/c) eyes staring into those of the sun god; she smiled, and got up, "Well, I felt like seeing the sunrise, I sometimes get up at this time around just to see this, a start of a new day " the (h/c)-ette said in her sweet voice which was like music to Apollo's ears.

" oh? So you love seeing the sun rise and set from the horizon, I suppose? " Apollo said in a playful tone, and after that they continued to talk, getting to know each other; the woman introduced herself as (Name).

(Name), wasn't just a woman who was just beautiful from the outside, the more he learned about her through the conversation, he realized how innocent, kind, and compassionate this woman was, he was getting butterflies in his stomach, when she spoke.

This feeling of longing and emptiness, all vanished when he met her, He realized what he was missing all this time, (Name) was the answer to his question, It felt like he found his other half, He found his True Love.....

( ii ) — DUSK | AFTERMATH

After the meeting with a mortal, he couldn't help but think about (Name) & her purity.....this practice continued for days, no matter how much tried to distract himself with his responsibilities and deities, she was always on his mind.

Later, he fantasized about what he would do to her, once she was his, how beautiful she would look under him, he would sit in his room fantasizing about her.

He felt like he was going insane at the thought of her, his desire to have her grew and grew over time, the desire to dominate her, the desire to break her and hold her.....this desire to ruin her innocence and corrupt her.....

He would see her illusions when he looked in the mirror, and dream about her, he even started to see her in the female deities, who would try to flirt with him and end up sleeping with them.....

Then, He started visiting (Name) in the mortal realm very often, so that he could get close to her, and he didn't fail, he did get close to her.....he had gained his innocent (Name)'s trust, and she would share with him everything, and so did he, which were all lies.

Everything went downhill the day, (Name) showed him her engagement ring and that she was getting married; Apollo had lost his sanity at the news, he was going crazy, how dare she marry another man? and not just any man, but a pathetic mortal over him, a god?

He was seething in rage and jealousy at the thought of (Name) loving a man that's not him, he didn't accept this decision of hers. And as time passed by, he was a madman now.....

A day before the wedding, (Name) got the news of her fiance and his family being brutally killed, the killer's identity was a mystery to all, and there was no trace of who did something so cruel, hearing the news (Name) started crying, her heart was broken...

As the tears streamed down her angelic face, she felt someone's hand on her shoulder, she turned her head to meet the eyes of the sun god, and her teary eyes widened as she noticed, Apollo's robe was entirely covered in blood (ngl, I believe he would look sexy *lip bite*)

Apollo stared down at the broken woman, with a cold gaze, there was a thick silence with a lot of tension between both, when he broke the silence and spoke, "you are mine, and only mine.", his voice was stern and possessive, as he continued "don't you dare think of loving another man other than me, I'm sparing you for this once, but if it happens next time I'll make sure, you suffer.".

(Name) felt a chill run down her spine at his words as she began to cry more; Apollo pulled her into an embrace as she cried, caressing her hair as she put his head on top of hers, "Don't worry, love, I'll never let anyone separate us..." he said in a soft yet menacing voice.

(Name) tried to push him away, which annoyed him, he grabbed her wrist and glared at her with his eyes full of rage; he took a deep breath to calm down, and dragged her to his castle.

He took her to his chamber and threw her on his bed, (Name) looked around confused yet terrified as he went up to the door and locked it, he turned to face with a devilish smirk as he approached

(Name) tried backing away, but he grabbed her wrist again and pulled her close to him, he cupped her cheek as he looked deep into her eyes, his eyes were obsession, making (Name) nervous.

He was enjoying her fear.....she looked so vulnerable.....he felt like breaking her right now and make her his, but he held himself back...because he had already made plans for their future, and the first step to make (Name) his forever was.....marriage

and who was gonna stop him? he gets what he wants, and so he did, he forced (Name) to get married to him.....

( iii ) — TWILIGHT | HOW WOULD HE TREAT YOU?

Apollo is very obsessive as a yandere, he would often threaten you and yes, he is serious about them, he is one of the more dangerous yandere alongside Buddha and Poseidon.

He can have two different personalities in front of you, either he can be this flirty and loving man or he will be this cold, heartless man who had no remorse or guilt for his actions.

Whenever he is in a good mood(which is almost every day) he would shower you with kisses, on your forehead, nose, cheek, jawline, neck, collarbone, and lips.

He keeps female workers around you to serve you, he can't take any chance of you running away or falling in love with another man. He is strict about it

If you try to talk to Zeus, Hermes, Or Ares for help, they would agree at first but they would go behind your back and tell Apollo about what you said to them, and It would end up in being a mess for you.

He is a loving and romantic man, he stopped seeing and flirting with other female deities just for you and brought you rare gifts on a daily basis.

Despite that, he was always clingy and hungry for your love, he would get pissed off easily if you avoided him or didn't return his affection back.

He is highly protective and aggressive when a god or goddess criticizes you or your relationship with him, he would directly approach them and kill them in an instant not caring about what other gods think, the only thing he could focus on is you.

Leaving the lovely things aside, He IS abusive, if you do something that doesn't please him, he would torture you in many different ways.

if you refused to kiss him or resist him, he will grab you by the jaw tightly and forcefully kiss you, or even more.

If he feels turned on, he would drag you to the bedroom or a quiet place and start to 'that'; even if it's against your will, he will do whatever he pleases.

He won't show mercy even if it was your 'first time'; he would fuck you in a very aggressive and rough way; he would try something new every time, to make his fantasies come true.

he ruined your purity, he took your innocence, he took everything you ever had.

if you tried to escape, which happened many times, he went easy on you first, but when it was too much, he would break your legs so you don't dare escape and even get you whipped in this vulnerable state.

all the agony and pain you faced after you met him, caused you to be depressed and isolated, as time passed by, you felt like you were losing yourself, having mental breakdowns out of nowhere, and mood swings.

and soon the stockholm syndrome kicked in, you started to feel positive around Apollo, you were showing him the affection and love, he yearned for all this time.

though he knew what caused the sudden change in your behavior, he still enjoyed it, cause after all your body and soul now belonged to him

It felt like you were brainwashed or were under a spell, that you suddenly did everything and anything Apollo asked you to.

╰ HOME PAGE / HOLD ME / © LUOCHAV

#ror apollo #apollo ror #ror x reader #yandere! apollo #nyxxcore #itssimpforeternity #snv #record of ragnarok #ror #shuumatsu no valkyrie #apollo has corruption kink.#aki's beloved husband #aki's archive #aki the arsonist #💌 aki's love letter!!#hold me // © nyxxcore

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ahundredtimesover · 1 year

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A little something from our PLM couple 🥰

Title: Please Love Me Bonus 08 - The Aftermath

WC: 15,116

Tags/Warnings: angst; mentions of pregnancy/having a family; mentions of illness; fluff; explicit sexual content (making out, nipple play, thigh-riding ish, pillow missionary bc yes, unprotected vaginal sex); JK Dreamers MV behind with the exposed arm

Series Masterlist

Jungkook’s eyes are the prettiest you’ve ever seen.

You remember how they used to look back at you when you were kids - wide and bright, curious and full of wonder; they shone like stars even during the day.

You remember how they’d started to become livelier as you grew older - they held in them this playful mischief that was always endearing to you, even if the adults often called him out for being a rascal.

His eyes had become distant to you by the time you were in high school, though you’d still catch glimpses of them when he wasn’t looking. There was still that way it would shine like an entire galaxy, just as much as it held in them the recklessness of a teenager vying for attention.

But Jungkook spoke his emotions through them just as much as he held his heart on his sleeves. And though you recall a time when his piercing gaze used to unsettle you when he was just coming into terms with your marriage arrangement, all that has faded away at your reality that this man is in love with you, and all you’ve been seeing is passion and care and an unyielding glimmer of trust and commitment. It’s been over 3 years and despite the rare moments of frustration and hurt that you’ve seen in them, his eyes would always show you love.

“Done staring at my face?” He teasingly mumbles with his gruff voice.

“Not yet,” you softly smile, snuggling up to him a little closer.

You want to hold onto this look of his a little longer - sleepy eyes and messy hair, soft against the white linens of your shared bed and the sunlight seeping through the windows. You want to hold onto it if only to forget about last night - the defeat on his face, the bottled up frustrations, the way his voice cracked as he told you how you hurt him, how he tried to control his cries, and how he’d let you walk out of that guest room to be alone and away from you.

“You came,” you continue, gently tracing his face and missing how it felt.

“It’s hard to sleep without you,” he says, “even if we’re far apart. I don’t like waking up and not knowing if you’re there.”

The memory hits him as he utters the words - the fight from years ago and watching you walk away from him, then waking up to find that you were gone. The fear crippled him then, even more after learning about the truth. He’d promised himself after that night that unless he’s physically unable, he’ll never sleep without you, that the security of your presence and of your hold would trump any other emotion he’s feeling at the moment. Like now.

“It’s hard to sleep without you, too,” you reply, your voice almost cracking. “I’m sorry, Kook, I—”

He stops you with a shake of his head. “We don’t need to talk about it right now. It’s been a hard week.”

There’s something new in his eyes. Submission, maybe? It’s almost like he’s pleading - pleading for you to let it pass this time, to not let it linger - and all you could do is follow. This is the most that you could do for him after all that you’ve done.

“Okay,” you hum. Perhaps the wounds are still fresh; maybe he’s letting everything still sink in. It’s much better than the past few days, and you’ll take what you can get.

He responds with a soft smile and a kiss on your forehead and one on your lips. You sigh into it and all your other thoughts melt away. Right now, this is all you need.

“I’ll make us some breakfast,” he says, slowly getting up. “The kids have a soccer game today. Are you okay to watch?”

“Of course,” you perk up, wanting so badly to be out of the house and in a place bursting with energy. “I’ll wash up and head down.”

Jungkook’s eyes are glued to the TV while you both eat, and you convince yourself that this is him, claiming that sense of normalcy after a week of being cooped up in his home office, stressed and frustrated. You don’t want to think it has anything to do with him not knowing how to fill the silence that you both used to comfortably share.

You place your hand on top of his once he's finished his meal, and as if it’s reflex for him, he squeezes it in response. It’s that bit of comfort you need and you don’t ask for more.

Neither one of you says much as you both get ready, choosing to let the music fill the air, the same way you do once you’re in the car. He holds your hand while he drives, though, and despite the absence of his usual affection - none of the kisses, the loving glances, the declarations of love - you know it’s somehow still there.

“Hey, everything okay?”

Yeri asks as she hugs a tutu-clad Ji-a on her lap, all ready for her ballet class after the game.

“Yeah, just getting used to being outside, I guess,” you chuckle, appreciating the cool breeze this Saturday morning.

“Ah, seemed like you zoned out a bit. Soojin almost hit a goal,” she informs you.

You turn towards the field and see your niece with that frustrated look on her face, the one she has on when she misses a shot. You hadn’t even noticed, as your eyes had been focused on your husband - on the sidelines with Junghyun as substitute coach for your brother.

You’d wandered towards Jungkook’s direction almost immediately after you sat down, waiting for his usual questioning look of concern or that sweet smile he has whenever you’re separated but in the same place. But your gaze hasn’t moved, and you haven’t even realized that you’ve been absent-mindlessly looking his way, so you can tell he hasn’t even glanced at you.

You’re both okay, you tell yourself. This is normal after a fight. You’re reminded that after last night’s confrontation, you and Jungkook hadn’t talked yet - about how you hurt him and how you can do better. Perhaps he’s still processing everything; maybe there’s still some ache left. And that should be fine; there’s nothing to worry about.

“Yay!” Ji-a squeals, and you see Soojin celebrating on the field, running to the bench to high-five Jungkook, Junghyun, and Soyeon.

You cheer with them, hopelessly waiting for your husband to look your way, but he never does.

He still takes your hand during lunch with your family though. He also sits next to you on your couch with his arm over the backrest when his friends decide to come over in the afternoon to play games and have dinner. And at night, he lets you lay on his chest as you both talk about the day - the kids being so excited about your upcoming family trip, Taehyung’s plan of proposing to his girlfriend, and Jimin declaring that he wants to be a dad, regardless of how it happens.

It’s what reminded you of the thoughts you’ve been having since the other night and all of the things that Jungkook had made you realize.

“Honey, I was thinking about what you said,” you say softly, eyes to the ceiling as you painfully recall. “Sometimes I think that I already know how to handle living with my condition and I figured out ways to not let it bother others but then… you’re right, about everything. It’s not something I should just brush off. I wouldn’t want you keeping things that serious from me, too.”

You look at him, apologetic eyes meeting his soft ones. “And I still have a lot to learn about being a partner, about being a wife… and being more honest and open and yeah, maybe it wouldn’t be easy for us to go through the process of pregnancy and having kids unless I’ve learned to communicate better about my needs and my struggles. Maybe… maybe it isn’t time yet.”

You’re met with silence, and you turn to Jungkook for any form of affirmation - that he’d heard you, that he agrees.

Caught off guard, he merely nods, hoping you don’t notice the way his face falls at your words. Of all the things he’d said, that’s what he regrets the most.

How the hell can we have our own kids if you can’t even communicate with me? If you can’t even tell me what you’re feeling?

They ring in his head like a bad dream, one that he can’t escape from. He’d said them in a moment of frustration, of desperation, and he wants nothing more than to take them back right now, just so you won’t pass up on the one thing you want more than anything - a family.

He hates himself for what his words have come to mean to you. Clearly, he didn’t mean that you’re not yet ready to become a mother, but it’s how you took it. And now, you’re here, believing that your inability to communicate what you’re feeling is what’s keeping you from becoming one.

Jungkook knows you’re more than capable, and communication is something that you - that both of you - can work on. He’s the one who’s been so afraid to commit to having a family because of what it would mean for you, something he’s come to realize is also a bit selfish on his part because you’re the one who’d be physically going through the pregnancy, who’d be struggling and who’d be in pain, yet he’s the one who can’t get past all that to be able to give you something you want, which he knows deep down is something that he wants, too.

Yet a part of him remains disappointed, that in an effort to patch up your relationship, you feel the need to concede to him, to reconsider the one thing that he knows is most important to you, to put yourself down, as if admitting that you’re not yet ready was caused by him.

As he was days ago, he’s upset and hurt. He wants to hold you tighter, tell you that you’re wrong, assure you that you’ll both work together on communicating, and that should make everything alright moving forward.

But as Jungkook has come to realize, he’s not all that good at dealing with complicated emotions like this, at reconciling how the person he loves the most can let him down. He’s not even over what happened last week and the words you’d both exchanged, and now here he is again, wanting to comfort you while feeling a mix of guilt and disappointment.

He decides against holding you tighter. You’ve fallen asleep already and he admits missing your soft snores and the way your warm breath hits his skin. He lets you stay there, comfortable and safe, while he wallows in his own emotions and stays up the entire night.

Jungkook falls asleep right before the sun rises, and that means he sleeps through the entire morning and is awakened by your caresses on his arm.

He grumbles when you tell him that lunch is ready.

“Hey, honey. Come on,” you say, removing the bangs off his forehead and kissing it. “I had Mrs. Na make tangsuyuk. I know you’ve been craving it.”

“Oh, she’s here?” He asks, eyes now half open.

“Mother made her come over to send me tea and fruits and I thought to ask her to prepare our lunch,” you respond.”

“Okay. I’ll be down in a bit.”

You excitedly wait for him in the dining room. You’d wanted to go for a walk in the park with him earlier but he slept in. You can’t imagine how tired he is so you let him be. You’re thinking that perhaps you can spend the afternoon watching movies or something, perhaps cuddle and make up for the week that was.

But Jungkook doesn’t seem to want any quiet, as he puts the TV on blast while he watches soccer highlights. You don’t get any word in as his eyes are glued to the screen. You only get to say anything when he checks his phone and groans, dropping it on the table seemingly out of frustration.

“Everything okay?” You ask.

“Yeah, just work stuff,” he responds dryly. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Well, then do you want to—”

“Is Mrs. Na staying?” He unknowingly interjects. “I was planning to go to the gym in the afternoon but I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Oh, I can ask her to,” you say dejectedly, masking the disappointment. “But yeah, you should go to relieve your stress. Will you be gone long?”

“Not sure,” he shrugs. “I’ll let you know.”

You nod and pick on your food now, suddenly losing your appetite. You don’t miss the thought that right before you and Jungkook had that confrontation, he’d gone to the gym as you suggested so that he could spend time on his own because he didn’t seem to want to spend it with you. That was just 2 days ago, and now he’s going back. You hate to think it’s the same reason and he’s only being subtle about it now.

Maybe it’s still too much for him. Maybe he hasn’t gotten over what happened the other night. That’s a lot to process, you remind yourself; even you haven’t done it because you don’t know how to. But he’s the one who doesn’t want to talk about it, and you hate to think that this time, he’s the one avoiding it, masking it, sweeping it under the rug until he’s finally ready to face it.

You both finish your lunch and Jungkook heads to your room to fix up. He gives you a forehead kiss before he leaves.

“Text me, okay?” You remind him.

“I will. Text me, too, if you, uh, if you feel anything.”

It’s 3 hours later when you send a message.

Hey, Kook. Mrs. Na and I will bake some cakes. Craving for anything specific? ☺️

But he doesn’t reply. An hour later, you check on him again.

Hey, honey. Hope you’re not overworking yourself. What time will you be home?

And again.

Kook? Will you be back in time for dinner?

And again.

Everything okay?

He finally replies at 7PM, 6 hours after he left.

Sorry. Was about to leave earlier but my boxing trainer got back from his leave so we did some rounds. He convinced me to get a massage so I did. Masseuse was great. She got rid of my knots.

Oh and yeah, I’ll be home in 20.

Jungkook reads your messages over and over again. He isn’t the type to not text back when it comes to you, and you know that. He regularly uses you as his daily journal, in fact, sending you memes or texts of what he’s doing or what he’s seen on the way to somewhere.

It isn’t like him to not update you about anything for this long unless he’s physically incapable. In this case, he’d purposely avoided his phone, knowing there would be a message or two from you. And he couldn’t bring himself to read them when the reason why he’s here is to rid himself of all the emotions that he’s feeling for and because of you.

He feels that staying at home with you would give you both an opportunity to talk about what happened, and he’s not yet ready for that.

Every time he thinks of what he felt as he recalls that day of driving to the hospital to you, he feels numb and useless. There’s that feeling of dread and paralyzing fear. There’s also that disbelief that you could hide something so important from him, and this is always mixed with a tinge of betrayal alongside the resounding pain. He just wants to hold you in his arms to make all the ache go away, but the way you look at him burns. He wants to hear your voice and know you’re okay but he doesn’t want your apologies.

He thought hearing you speak that night would calm his heart. He thought crawling into bed with you right after just so he can keep his promise of not spending a night away from you would push him towards forgiveness and acceptance. He thought that talking about the fight to someone would help him make sense of things.

But he’s still left with a slew of emotions that he doesn’t know what to do with, that he doesn’t know how to make sense of or control. It’s why he decided to pass up on spending this lazy Sunday with you and head to the gym instead so he could release whatever he needs to release in there and not to you again.

He promised himself after that night, seeing you cry and looking helpless and apologetic, that he wouldn’t unload all his thoughts and feelings about you to you. Much as you’re still his daily journal, he reckons that maybe, not when it comes to you. If he needs to be apart from you to save you from his own inability to understand and temper what he feels, then he will. He just hopes he doesn’t push you too far.

Was love always this hard? Is it meant to be? Isn’t it supposed to be natural? Of course, your situation is different. You were both thrust into this arrangement and were lucky enough to fall in love. But after learning, isn’t it supposed to be easy, effortless? Like the love is just overflowing, unyielding, easy to understand?

And as you reply with your sweetness still echoing through - Oh Kook, get some rest when you get here. Is there anything else you want? Just let me know. Can’t wait to see you ☺️ - he can’t help it; his heart just breaks even more for you.

Jungkook comes home to handmade pasta and a chicken dish that you said Mrs. Na taught you to make. You also didn’t know what cake he wanted so you made cheesecake cups and a chocolate one and another one with mangoes. It’s delicious, as he expected, and your joyful face as you were making these while thinking of him flashes in his mind. He hates that he missed it, but he also knows that spending the entire day at the gym was the best thing that he could’ve done.

He does the dishes while you linger in the kitchen, asking about the most mundane things. Perhaps it’s to fill the silence, or maybe to convince you - or him - that things are normal.

Any time that Jungkook feels like you’ll bring up something from the other night or the past week, he gets to you first, asking about other trivial things, too. In truth, he’s just scared of how another conversation with you about your issues would go. He’s learning now that he’s not good with communication, too.

How does he tell you he loves you without downplaying how you disappointed him? How does he tell you that you hurt him without hurting you back? How can he verbalize all these things he’s feeling without looking so helpless to you?

“Kook?”

Your voice shakes him out of his thoughts, and he realizes he’s been rinsing the same bowl for the past 5 minutes.

“Yeah?” He asks, not making eye contact.

He hears you sigh and he briefly closes his eyes to brace himself for another question or statement he’s probably not ready for while also thinking of something to possibly change the topic, but instead you ask if he’s going to work tomorrow.

“Uh, yeah. I have to check one of the sites,” he replies. “Have Mrs. Na come over tomorrow, okay? You’ll be fine here?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you hum, looking away now. “I’ll go to the studio on Tuesday, though. I confirmed 2 classes.”

“Oh, okay,” he huffs. “You’re cleared to go back to work?”

“Dr. Kwon cleared me. As long as I don’t do anything strenuous or too stressful, it’s back to normal for me,” you state. “Plus, I miss the kids. I need some joy and laughter to fill my days. It’s… it’s been a while.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath to keep himself from asking further. He chooses to gloss over the insinuation that there hasn’t been anything worthy of joy and laughter in your days this past week. He doesn’t want to get into it right now.

“Okay then, if he says so.”

You wait for a follow up - perhaps his usual instruction to be careful and call me for anything, but it doesn’t come. There’s no playful banter, either. There’s no invite for a movie or wine and chocolate at the balcony like how your Sundays usually are, and you’ve come to think yourself silly for even expecting it.

He yawns and it’s your cue, so you tell him to go to bed and prepare for what surely is gonna be another long week ahead.

“What about you?” He asks.

“I’ll drink my tea on the balcony. It’s a nice night,” you reply, wanting to be alone with your thoughts. And well, for him to miss you even for just a little bit.

“Alright, just don’t stay up too late, yeah? It’s cold out.”

You nod and his gaze on you lingers, his eyes telling you that he wants to say more - do more - but that he chooses to hold back. And you let him, thinking that if it’s time he still needs to sort out his feelings, then that’s what you’ll give him. He still speaks to you, after all, and sleeps next to you. Given all that’s happened, you know you can’t complain.

But he kisses your forehead, and suddenly you feel like crying. But you hold back, knowing that the tension would just build and neither of you seems ready to face it.

The lone tear eventually falls though, an hour later after you’ve had your tea and you’ve washed up. The lights are off in the room save for your bedside lamp, and you can see the rise and fall of Jungkook’s chest as he peacefully sleeps on his back. You lay on your side, facing away from him. It’s shortly after when you feel him shift and then his arm wraps around your middle.

“Goodnight,” he whispers.

He loves you. So much. You know this. But it’s the unsaid things that you’re afraid of, that you worry about. It’s knowing he has more to say but that he doesn’t seem to want to share them with you. It’s missing the routines and habits. It’s the uneasiness of possibly doing or saying something again that would make everything boil over. It’s the insecurity of all your faults and shortcomings surfacing. It’s the fear of not knowing how to handle it the next time you’re faced with them again.

It’s wanting to hold his hand despite it all and knowing that you’d go through this over and over again if it means loving each other much better at the end of it.

You pull his arm tighter around you and sigh into his hold, taking as much as you possibly can.

“Goodnight,” you whisper back. “Sleep well, Kook.”

The cafe across the street from the art studio is chic and cozy. It’s an apartment that was transformed into a commercial space and it’s retained its homey feel, a perfect fit in this neighborhood that lets you forget for a moment that you’re in the middle of the buzzing city of Seoul.

It’s also where you’re meeting Junghyun this Tuesday mid-morning, as he’s coming from an early meeting with an investor nearby.

“Hi,” you greet him with a hug, exhaling deeply as if you haven’t had something that comforting in a while. And well, you really haven’t.

“Looked like you really needed that, huh,” he smiles kindly.

“I did. I still do,” you respond.

It’s the statement that leads you to narrating the past week with your husband to the older man - from the cold treatment, the confrontation, and how that night ended.

Junghyun merely nods, hums, and sips his coffee.

“Jungkook brought you up, you know?” You say softly. “About how I trust you the way I do and that I don’t do the same with him.”

“I know,” Junghyun replies, surprising you. “He told me.”

“When? He talked to you about it? What did he say?”

“He mentioned it. During the soccer game, in the middle of coaching,” he chuckles, remembering how he and his brother went from drawing plays and encouraging the little kids to talking seriously about your marriage. “He didn’t go into detail the way you just did but he said he lost it, said a bunch of things that he regrets, and that hearing about you being in the ER from me triggered something in him. Deja vu for him, I guess, because I’m the one who told him about your sickness.”

“What else did he say?”

“He apologized to me, said that he shouldn’t have brought me into it, that he feels silly for being jealous and I told him that he doesn’t have a reason to be.”

“Oh,” you sigh. “I didn’t know he felt that way.”

“Is that all that you don’t know?” He pushes.

You shake your head no, and Junghyun has that look again like he knows there’s more, and like always, you give in. You talk about feeling distant from your husband, how - despite the care and the goodnight hug and kiss - he still feels so far away, like he’s deliberately creating space between the both of you with only his hand out far enough to let you know that he’s still there, but not close enough for you to feel that he wants things back to the way they were. Or that he’s ready for it.

“I mean, it’s much better than how we were last week and that’s at least something to be thankful for. But I…” you continue, feeling the tears forming in your eyes. “I don’t know how to make him talk to me. I don’t know what he’s feeling, I don’t know how to make it up to him or to make things better. I don’t know… I don’t know how to make him want me again.”

“Hey, I’m sure he does,” Junghyun nudges your knee. “You both just experienced something scary, okay? And then had to deal with the consequences of you keeping things from him. Those are a lot of emotions to process and manage. I can tell that he’s having a hard time. Especially when expressing those emotions caused you some hurt, too. You know that he can’t stand to see or even know you’re crying, like right now.”

Junghyun takes the napkin from the table and wipes your tears, thinking how he’s not used to this sight because you rarely ever become emotional like this.

“I keep crying, I don’t know why,” you sniff.

“It’s because you’re not used to Jungkook not expressing himself, that’s why,” he states. “He always wears his heart on his sleeves, unafraid to speak his mind. He may be unhinged sometimes but it’s because he always keeps the door open - for you to read him, to comfort him… It’s just not the case right now. And that’s hurting you, too.”

“Why… why is he keeping me out this time?” You wonder, your voice shaking.

“Maybe he’s not yet ready to talk about it. But if it’s bothering you that much, then assert yourself and don’t give him a choice,” he advises. “___, my brother loves you beyond I or even he can express. He won’t be able to resist you. But maybe he’s also just used to you being the one keeping things in and him being the assertive one. But you have to fight for him, too, you know? Face the issue and talk to him. I told him the same thing but he just shrugged. So if it’s not him then it should be you. You have to. I’m sure you miss him just as much as he misses you.”

“I miss him a lot,” you pout. “I miss him so much.”

“Then do something about it.”

When Junghyun advised you to do something about missing your husband, perhaps he wasn’t thinking of you going to the office with a surprise lunch for Jungkook. You recall him saying this morning that he was just gonna have a meeting in the morning and then stay in the office to work on reports.

You walk in the reception area outside his room, beef noodle soup in hand, and ask his secretary if he can be disturbed.

“Oh, he’s still in a meeting, Mrs. Jeon,” So-hee informs you. “It was extended so Mr. Jeon and Ms. Wong decided to have lunch. He did say they’re almost done some time ago so—”

A woman and a man’s joint laughter interrupts her, and your husband and his companion - an investor for his project - walk in, clearly still enjoying their conversation. You’re thankful you at least get to hear his laugh and his excited voice this time. There’s that boyish smile you miss, too.

“___, hey,” he calls you worriedly and walks up to you. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, honey. I just wanted to, uh,” you respond, looking at the meal you brought. “I thought you haven’t had lunch yet so I got you something but you can uh… I guess I’ll just take this home and—”

“No, I’ll take it,” he says, taking the bag from your hands. “I just have to give something to Ms. Wong and I’ll get back to you, okay?”

You nod in reply and smile at the woman who greets you. You watch them walk to his room and from the half opened door, you see him go through some documents that he gives to her. She walks out and bows at you, and that’s what you hear Jungkook call your name.

He’s leaning on his desk facing the door when you enter, his smile with less vigor this time. You had planned on checking up on him, stupidly thinking you’d have an opening to ask how he’s feeling. Clearly, this isn’t the time nor place to be talking about something so personal, but after speaking with Junghyun earlier, you just had this urge to see your husband, comfort him in some way, and seek his affirmation about the both of you.

“The soup smells good, but we just had lunch, I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ll have this for snacks, I promise.”

“It’s okay, Kook. No need to force it,” you smile.

“Fuck, you came here to surprise me with lunch and I’m not even eating it,” he sighs. “And Father called for another meeting in a bit and I—”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” you assure him. “I just thought of dropping by uninvited and I didn’t expect you to be free. I just wanted to see you, that’s all. But I’ll go and prepare for my afternoon class.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Kook,” you force a smile.

Jungkook takes the container out of the bag and that’s when he sees it - a napkin doodle of a man, perhaps him, kissing a woman, perhaps you, on the forehead.

Something he’s learned about you is that you skirt around conversations when you’re afraid or uncomfortable to have them. He’d long figured out that you’re not as expressive with words as you are with your art. You’d said once that you don’t “keep emotions in” or bottle them inside because you don’t want to talk about or face them; you just express them in other ways, like through painting or doodles - brush strokes and curved lines of feelings that you can’t verbalize, sometimes because you can’t find the words and other times, because words aren’t enough.

He sees beyond the unsure smile and the way you’re clasping your hands together. And right as you say goodbye and turn around to pull open the door, he puts his hand over yours and pushes it close again.

“You didn’t just come here to bring me lunch,” he says softly, seeing right through you. “You wanted to tell me something.”

Trapped between him and the door, you turn your head and look up to face him. You want to say that while yes, you wanted to talk, it’s also not the right time. You want to say that it can wait tonight, that you’ll be okay, that he should focus on his work and not worry about you.

But you let yourself be selfish, brave, unhinged.

“You feel distant, Kook,” you finally say, voice like a whisper. “I want to reach out but I don’t know how.”

The sight before him is one that breaks his heart, perhaps more than seeing you in tears. Your eyes are glassy, clearly on the brink of crying, and your lips are quivering; you have to nibble and bite them to stop. This hurts him more because he knows you’re holding yourself back, and when you finally let go and let it all out, it’ll probably be when you’re back home, alone, where he can’t comfort you, hold you.

“I…” he starts, on the brink of losing it, too. “I know, and I’m so sorry.”

There’s a beat of silence where you just look at each other, and it’s Jungkook who looks away first.

“I kept it all in last week because you were the one who needed care and attention,” he continues. “And I just couldn’t hold it back anymore that’s why that night happened, and I’m so sorry for that, too.”

You shake your head no but he counters, saying that he shouldn’t have said things the way he did, that he knows he could’ve talked to you more calmly.

“But I just… I’m left with so many feelings that I don’t know how to deal with. I’m not used to this much, and this intense, nor this contradicting.”

He covers his eyes with his hand, and much as you want to hug him and make the pain go away, somehow you know that you have to swim through this - face all this, and you can only do that with that distance in between the two of you.

“It was the secrets, the worry, the concern over how we’re gonna move forward without hurting each other even more… and then that guilt over what I said, and you, taking it to heart.”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“You said that maybe you aren’t ready for a family,” he recalls. “Because I said you can’t communicate well with me and I—”

“Kook, hey, that’s not on you,” you interject, rushing towards him now and taking his hands in yours. “I know that I have to learn to be better and that’s part of us preparing to become parents, like what we said we’d do.”

“Yes, but you didn’t think of that until I said something,” he counters. “It’s just like you pausing on doing your own pieces for exhibitions - your dream - so you could keep your job at the firm and continue teaching the kids. And now, you want to pause from becoming a mother, too. You’re holding out on things and I just… I hate myself for that, for making you doubtful. For not knowing how to ease your pain. But I’m also upset with you for hiding things from me, for conceding all the time, and for hurting me. But I also hurt you and I… fuck, it’s just a lot. And I don’t know what to do. You’re who I run to about everything but suddenly, I find it difficult to do that.”

Jungkook is heaving by the time he finishes. It’s a lot to take in for you, too.

Your thoughts crumble when So-hee knocks on the door, informing your husband that the meeting his father called for is starting already, and they need him there right now.

“I’m coming,” he calls out, then turns to you. “I’ve been distant because I don’t want to unload this all on you. Because I want to protect you from all this,” he adds, pointing to his heart. “I just… I guess I just need more time. I’m sorry.”

Another female voice echoes from the other side of the door, the tapping much louder and more firm this time.

“Mr. Jeon, please don’t make your father wait,” the elder’s secretary says. “He has a flight to New York in a few hours. He asks that you be in the boardroom in 5 minutes, no more.”

“Alright, I’ll be there,” he groans, looking at you apologetically. “I have to go, but I’ll see you at home, okay?”

“Of course,” you huff, knowing you don’t have a choice but to let him go. “I’ll see you.”

And just like your drawing, he pulls you close and kisses your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, before opening the door and running to the elevator.

You release a deep breath and wipe the tears that immediately flowed once he left.

You ground yourself in Jungkook’s office, looking around and taking it all in - the lavender oil from the humidifier that he got because it’s your favorite scent, the painting behind his chair that you made, the framed photos of both of you during your trips that were taken.

There’s a lot of you in here, and it’s the most comfort you’ve received other than Junghyun’s hug earlier.

“We’ll fix this,” you comfort yourself this time. “We’re gonna be okay.”

Jungkook’s father’s urgent meeting turned out to be the introduction to what would become a full day one. There are several things to iron out in their different offices. The directors currently in Japan will meet with the team there, which means that both Jeon sons will have to go to Busan to troubleshoot and regroup.

Plans were constantly drawn up. Dinner was eaten during the discussions, and it’s not until 10PM when it ended and Jungkook was able to leave the office. He still had to take urgent calls during the ride home, and that caused him to enter your loft at 11, only to see you curled under a light blanket on the couch, asleep.

You were waiting for him, he sighs to himself. You’d come to his office earlier because you wanted to see him, talk to him, and you waited only to be let down that he hadn’t come home early enough. And now, he has to leave early the next day for a trip until the end of the week.

While that would mean alone time for him to regroup as well, it also means keeping the earlier conversation in limbo. There’s more to say but there aren’t resolutions to what was said. And you have to process what he did get to say on your own and do it all alone.

Like clockwork, given the numerous times you waited for him to come home only for you to fall asleep, Jungkook takes you in his arms. Flushed against his chest, you shift and make yourself comfortable in his hold, merely mumbling his name when you feel like you’re moving.

He lays you in bed and tucks you in, removing the strands of hair from your face so he can see you clearly. There’s a tinge of sadness even when you’re asleep, and he wants to be able to wipe that away.

After Jungkook has washed up, he lies next to you who has now moved to face his side on the bed. He kisses your forehead and he lingers.

“We’ll fix this,” he whispers, “I promise.”

Jungkook settles on leaving a note on your bedside about needing to travel to Busan early that Wednesday. He sends you a message about staying until Saturday for meetings and site visits, ending with an apology and an assurance that you’ll talk when he gets back.

You reply by lunchtime, and you’re never up that late, so he assumes that you sat on his message for a while before acknowledging it.

It’s okay, Kook, your text reads. Don’t forget to get some rest and I’ll see you in a few days. I love you.

Jungkook reads it over and over again, mad at himself for not feeling like returning your words of affection when it used to be a reflex for him. He loves you, obviously, but he feels hypocritical to be saying it when he’s being the way he is. He lingers when he exits to his Home Screen then sighs after looking at your smiling face for a little bit before locking his phone.

“Not gonna call her?” Junghyun asks from next to him.

They decided to just take one car so they can attend meetings together and discuss their action steps during the 4-hour drive to Busan. It was a long trip and they’re on the way to the office after a lunch meeting with an investor.

“Nah, we’ll probably just say the same things. Except, it’ll be awkward,” Jungkook sighs again.

There’s a beat of silence before Junghyun speaks. “I saw her yesterday, you know? I was in the area and we had coffee.” Jungkook nods, so the older man continues. “It’s a lot for her, too. She’s not used to being on this side of it - clueless, unsure, insecure. She’s scared, Kook. She’s scared that she’s doing this all wrong.”

“I’m scared, too,” the younger man finally says. “And confused, and worried. And I miss her so much. But I couldn’t even fucking text her that I love her back because I feel like I’m lying to her. I yelled at her, said shit I shouldn’t have, made her upset, spent days away from her… all that on top of being angry and disappointed over what happened.”

Junghyun has known that his little brother thrives on clarity, on rules and standards that he’s set up for himself. He hates being told what to do, and in the instances when he’s unsure about things, he figures things out and sticks by what he’s come to know, whether it’s by looking at the world around him or experiencing them by himself. Love, it seems, is something he’s come to understand through the former.

“You know, the feeling or emotion of love is actually just a part of love. It’s not love itself,” Junghyun says. “Being upset with her, missing her, worrying about her, not feeling like being around her… that’s part of love, too. I shouldn’t be spelling this to you anymore because I’m sure you know it already but love isn’t just what you feel for someone, it’s something you share with them. So all the fun, happy stuff and the not so good ones? You share those with her as well.”

“For the longest time, I just kept thinking that things are supposed to be effortless, especially between us,” Jungkook now says. “Considering how we started, I felt like the beginning was the hardest part, and it was only because I didn’t love her then yet. And now I do, so much, but then I still feel all this.”

“Remember the time some years ago when Yeri and I fought?” Junghyun asks. “I mentioned it in passing because it was really getting to me; I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. We slept in separate rooms for an entire week.”

“Seriously?” Jungkook exclaims. “You’re both the chillest people I know. I didn’t think you’d fight bad enough to an extent that you’d sleep separately.”

“Well, the ‘chillest’ people lose their cool sometimes. Work was driving me up a wall, she was an overworked resident at the hospital… we said things we shouldn’t have and then we stopped saying anything to each other after that,” Junghyun narrates. “We just wanted to be alone. So I slept in the guest room for a week but everyday, I drew her a bath the way she wanted so she could relax once she got home. And every morning, she prepared me a snack box because I was doing field visits everyday. Sure, we were going through our own shit, we didn’t feel like talking, couldn’t stand each other at some point. But the love didn’t stop, nor paused or decreased. It was just… there, expressed differently. And I just knew, after we made up, that I could never love any other person the way I love her, and I knew she felt the same about me.”

“So things really work that way, huh? I feel so fucking naive,” Jungkook chuckles. “I guess I was stuck on the honeymoon phase we’ve been on for years. It was easy to not be upset or angry with her over trivial things. And then when it got serious, I guess I freaked out. I didn’t think I could feel this towards her.”

“Well, those things really happen, especially as you go through married life and then family life. You love ___ so much but it hurts, I get that,” Junghyun adds. “It’s cliche because it’s true. And this isn’t the toxic shit - it’s just how healthy relationships actually are. There’s an unbelievable level of trust and faith to be able to admit that the person you love hurt you, but you still love them with your whole being despite that. It may seem confusing to you but it’s normal, and as long as it’s not constant and you actually grow and be better after, it’s actually good.”

Perhaps it’s the idealist in him. Maybe it’s being a rookie in love, Jungkook thinks, that’s why he had such high standards when it came to your relationship, thinking that fights could easily be resolved and that negative feelings would immediately go away.

He nods and takes his older brother’s words in. There’s a reason Jungkook always ran to him - wise beyond his years and able to just take everything in, reflect on them, then use them to be better.

Their time alone is cut short when they arrive at the office, and nothing about the issue is mentioned again for the rest of the day. Jungkook spends the evening in his hotel room with his 5th cup of coffee and his eyes glued to his laptop screen until you message at 10PM that you’re off to bed.

He thinks back to what his brother had said and how love, at times like this, can be expressed in different ways. He picks up the phone and makes a call.

Jungkook used to like drawing flowers. You didn’t buy into the tough and reckless guy act when you were younger since you knew about the kid who drew carnations and peonies and freesias during class. You remember receiving a card from an unnamed sender one time, and then crying when you lost it a year later.

Ever since you got married, he’s gone past the secret drawings to giving you actual flowers whenever he can. He knows you like them fresh to be placed in your hand painted vases around your apartment, and he’s told you several times that he likes seeing your smile whenever you receive them.

You wish he could see the one you have on right now, as you gaze at the bouquet of peonies and irises that just got delivered to your apartment that Thursday morning. There’s no dedication on it, and you take it as Jungkook not knowing what to say but wanting to tell you that he loves you, or that he misses you, or that he can’t wait to come home. You hope it’s all of those things.

You send him a photo of them placed in a vase on your bedside table with a message of thanks.

They’re pretty. I’m glad you like them, he replies. We have a full day of risk assessment planning and stuff. I’ll call you when I can.

Your smile only drops a little at the latter part of the text, but you can’t really complain. He’s been managing his team from home the past week because of you and now, he needs to focus on them completely. And given how you both left the conversation from the other night unfinished, you suppose that he’s not ready to deal with the tension again, so you let it go.

Minhyuk’s coming over for lunch then he’ll take me to work, you message back. And I’ll have dinner with the girls. Will also go to Soyeon’s place tomorrow to hang out with the twins.

You want to let him know that you won’t be alone for the next 2 days in case he’s wondering. You think he doesn’t want to nag but you want to relieve him of that worry, so you update him first.

Okay, good. You take care, he responds, sounding serious and unfamiliar. You’d figured that he’s like that when he doesn’t know what to say, especially as he fails to call that day and instead settles with an apology for their extended meeting.

The next morning, you receive a pastry and dessert spread in time for breakfast - mini croissants, egg custards, macarons, eclairs, and chocolate-coated strawberries.

Something to keep you company while I’m away, the card reads.

He’s always spoiled you with flowers and desserts, and they’re most special when they’re a surprise and when you’re missing him like this. You feel a mix of emotions as you eat them - you’re happy that he’s telling you he loves you by giving you the things you love, but you also can’t help but think that he’s doing so because he can’t say it, something you’re not used to because he says it everyday and every chance he gets.

It’s how love is in a relationship like this, you think - there’s no one way to feel it, there’s no one way to show it. But one way isn’t better than the rest; sometimes we just do and say what we can.

“So, flowers and desserts, huh?” Junghyun asks from next to Jungkook in the car. “Is that like drawing a bath or preparing a snack box?”

“She told you?”

“Yeah, to tell me that they made her week,” Junghyun smiles. “Which means… you haven’t called her yet.”

“Work’s driving me nuts and Father won’t get off my ass,” Jungkook reasons. “I’m irritable and I don’t want to unload on her.”

“That all?” The old man arches an eyebrow.

There’s a beat of silence before Jungkook responds. “I’m being petty. If she thinks that work is the most important thing for me, then my focus will be on that.”

“Seriously, Kook?” Junghyun scoffs. “Of course that’s not what she thinks. And right, real petty of you. So many times before when Father’s on our ass, you wouldn’t shut up about wanting to go home to your wife because being next to her makes you forget about all your problems.”

“Yeah, and I still stand by that,” Jungkook replies, his eyes going soft at the idea of being in your arms. His heart aches at the thought, though, because he can’t seem to get over his own reasons for being upset with you even if all that he wants to do is hold and kiss you. “But I just feel like I haven’t gotten over what happened. I mean, I’m sort of over the fear. She updates me everyday about how she’s feeling and that appeases me because then I know she’s open about it, even if I know it’s partly out of guilt. The rest… I don’t know, I’ve been sort of avoiding processing them.”

“Okay, so there are a lot of thoughts and feelings,” Junghyun responds, knowing that the hour-long trip to one of the work sites this Friday afternoon is enough to help his younger brother make sense of things. “So then let's go through each one. What exactly made you so upset that first time?”

“I guess it was just the thought that I wouldn’t put her first - that she’d keep things from me so I won’t worry, even if it’s at her expense. And that she wouldn’t put me first - that much as she’s who I run to for everything, it’s not the same with her. I think those hurt the most.”

Junghyun rests on the idea. Being the one person who knows you both so well, he can’t disagree more.

“But you think of it differently. You approach things differently, Kook,” he starts.” That’s how she shows her love - trying to make things easy for you in whatever way, and then that’s how you show your love - running to her, giving her all your attention. They’re different but it doesn’t mean they’re wrong, it just means that there are other ways to love people, that there are ways we put people first. That’s yours, and that’s hers.”

Jungkook’s face relaxes and a small pout forms on his face, so Junghyun continues.

“Don’t you see? Loving each other means you get to show each other that. That maybe, the instances where she brushes things off is her way of saying that she puts your comfort and peace of mind first, and the way you tell her every little thing is your way of showing that you want her involved in every little thing about your day. And both are totally fine, you just have to talk about it. And I know this has been incredibly hard for you but trust me - once you’ve talked about it, things will feel lighter. They’ll only get better from here.”

“But I can’t let her just brush things off if it’s about her health,” Jungkook counters. “You know that. I can’t let her think that it’s okay because it isn’t.”

“I know, and I think she’s realized that. I understand the frustration when it comes to her. Trust me, I’ve seen it,” the older man responds. “But that’s what you get from someone who’s wanted to stay out of the spotlight her whole life because she’d seen the challenges people went through for her, just to make sure she’s safe. She’s not a burden, we know that. But you get to show her that; that worrying about her doesn’t mean she’s a burden, that any difficulty on her end isn’t a burden. That any time she expresses what she feels isn’t a burden. Listen to her. If she says she’s fine, show her that you believe her. Show her that she can be honest without the consequences.”

Like a loose screw that’s finally been fixed, it all makes sense to Jungkook. Maybe it’s after yesterday’s conversation and the time he took for a bath last night that allowed him to think. Maybe it was imagining your smile in receiving the flowers and desserts and wanting so badly to see it. Or maybe it’s because it’s his brother, and Junghyun is the only person who knows you as well as he knows Jungkook, and that makes all the difference.

“You know her so well, don’t you?” Jungkook says now with a small smile, feeling much lighter than he did minutes ago. “I… I know there’s still a lot to learn about her and about me in relation to her. I guess I never really looked at it that way.”

“You were the rowdy kid who was always so hard to control, and it was easy to notice her discomfort around people while you had all the attention,” Junghyun chuckles. “I just learned to not panic when she’d talk to me, to not act like I know better, to not speak over what she’s feeling or what she thinks she needs. I never thought it was my place - I’m not her brother nor her best friend - and then I realized that’s exactly the person she needed me to be. She’s so much more than her sickness, you know that. So don’t let it be the thing that keeps you both apart.”

“I won’t,” Jungkook huffs. “Fuck it, I won’t.”

“Did the kids tire you?” Soyeon asks as she drives off from their place to drop you off at yours. “Sorry, I just needed someone to hang with them while I had my meeting. I hope it was okay.”

“Are you kidding me? I love spending time with the twins and see just how much they take after you,” you state. “I mean, we played house and I was the babysitter while Sunghoon was the gardener and Soojin was ‘working from home’ while talking to her ‘husband who’s on a business trip’ over the phone like… she was calling him sweetheart and stuff and it was so adorable but also kinda scary. I wouldn’t wanna cross that child. She’s feisty.”

“Yeah, Min-jun said to soften a little bit in front of them but I said that was his job,” your sister responds. “But they love me, said they wouldn’t change anything about me. They’re sweet, those rascals.”

“I think it has a lot to do with seeing Min-jun take all of you in and love you the way he does. It’s beautiful to see,” you smile. “But uh, does Soojin really have a husband who’s on a business trip or is she just copying that line from you?”

“Ah, her brother said she has a crush on this kid who’s on a vacation abroad and that was just her pretending. You know, normal kid stuff,” Soyeon laughs.

“How is that normal? Were we play-pretending or have husbands at that age?” You exclaim.

“Yeah, we did. I mean, didn’t our parents drill into our minds that we had to have a family when we got older?” She rolls her eyes playfully. “It was just how our world always worked. I know I pretended Joon-ki was mine and you pretended yours was Jungkook. That was so cute.”

“What?!” You exclaim at what is clearly news to you. “I’ve never heard this story.”

“I just remembered it! You were around the twins’ age and we were playing house in the garden. We told you to call your husband and you whisper-yelled ‘Kookie,’” she narrates, her eyes growing with affection at the memory. “Oh my god, it's so clear to me again. That was the cutest thing! I asked Junghyun if Kook was minding you already and being sweet and he said no, but that he saw his brother drawing some flowers and then you told Junghyun that someone left you a drawing of flowers under your desk. He told us and we all got so giddy.”

Junghyun was the only person you told about that, and you didn’t know he shared it with anyone else. In the minds of pre-teens, which he and your sister and brother were then, perhaps it was something worth gushing over. In your innocent mind, you thought it was sweet, even if little Jungkook barely spoke to you during those times. You remember the older Jeon telling you that his little brother is like that - even if at times he seems aloof or distant, there’s a caring and sweet boy underneath, and it was something that always stuck with you.

Perhaps he never outgrew that side of him. Even if you broke his heart by keeping things from him - like when 4-year old you didn’t want to play in the playground - he’s still that same boy who’d send you flowers despite not wanting to talk to you. A small smile forms on your face at the thought.

You and your sister spend the rest of the car ride talking about the games you played and growing up with the Jeons until you reach your place. You bid her goodbye and head straight to the bathroom, choosing a fresh scent for your bath to remind you of Jungkook.

It’s 9PM by the time you get to bed, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep immediately so you could wake up to Saturday, and that means finally having your husband back.

Recalling your growing up years gave you that warm feeling, especially as you thought back to how you and Jungkook just always circled around each other but never close enough to be anything more than childhood friends. There was always something special though, and now you’re both here, married and as in love as any 2 people can get. Even if that means spending days apart and not getting to hear his voice.

Right on cue, your phone rings and your heart leaps when his face shows up on your screen. He hasn’t called in days; Junghyun has said enough of all the meetings and troubleshooting that their father has been making them do, and it’s been hard to focus on anything else. He’s always been more graceful under pressure though, so he’s where you get your news about your husband from.

But Jungkook video calling you is more than enough now. He’s still in his work attire with the hotel room in the background, so you think he just got back from dinner. His eyes look tired, and you can tell all he wants is to lay in bed and sleep.

Seeing him somehow hits you more than you imagined. There’s this incredible amount of love you feel for this man that you can’t even properly verbalize. Brush strokes and drawings don’t even seem to be enough sometimes, which is how you prefer to express things to him.

At these moments when you’re overwhelmed with what you feel, whether it’s adoration or apology, you just want to hold him, feel him against your skin and trace his body with your fingers and hands and everything else. You want to map out his entirety with your lips. You want to look in his eyes so he can see the things you can’t say.

You miss him so much you can cry. And you almost do.

You adjust yourself on the bed so you can wipe away your lone tear. “Hey, honey. How are you?” You greet.

“Hey. Just came from another dinner meeting,” he replies. “Sorry I got to call just now. Going to bed already?

“No worries, Kook,” you smile. “And yeah. I want to sleep right away so I can wake up to you here tomorrow. Needy wife things,” you joke. “What time do you get back?”

“Oh, we have that investor’s meeting in the morning so probably around after lunch?” He replies, not missing the way your face falls a little.

“Alright. I’ll keep myself busy in the morning, then.”

You nibble your lips to keep yourself from crying. The thought of waiting for more than 12 more hours before seeing him is making your heart ache, but you know it’s better than another day away. You just have to be patient, you think to yourself. Then you’ll apologize for whatever else you need to apologize for and resolve whatever else is keeping you both from going back to how things were before. You want him so badly, but all you do is hug the pillow - his pillow - tightly and imagine it’s him.

“Okay,” he says softly. He lingers, as he just looks at you without saying anything else. “Now get some rest.”

“Okay,” you whisper back, savoring the way he looks. It’s as if time is suspended and you’re just gazing at each other.

He speaks first. “Goodnight, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight,” you answer, your voice getting stuck in your throat. You hope he doesn’t notice how close you are to losing it.

You drop the call and let yourself cry on his pillow, his scent filling the space and giving you the comfort that you need. He’ll be home, you remind yourself. He’ll be home soon.

At a 23rd floor hotel room in Busan, Jungkook stares at his Home Screen photo of you. He’d seen you nibble your lips and dig your face on the pillow. You were close to crying again and he didn’t want to ask what happened, knowing that it might just prompt you to actually cry and he wouldn’t be there to comfort you.

But then again, you’re probably crying now and he still isn’t there. This is what hurts him more - knowing that you’re all alone when you’re letting yourself go.

He doesn’t want another night of this - of you alone, of him holding back and missing you so badly. And like that string that constantly tugs on his heart to do something, he follows.

Jungkook calls his brother. “Move tomorrow’s meeting to lunch. I’m driving home tonight.”

The drive back to Seoul on a Friday night isn’t the best for someone who’s rushing to get home to his wife, but Jungkook still tries his best by speeding when he can and taking all the shortcuts he knows. It’s almost 1AM by the time he arrives, and he takes a deep breath as he opens the front door, knowing that he has to be as quiet as possible so as not to scare you, even if he wants to run up to your bedroom and kiss you crazy.

This whole week has been such a roller coaster of emotions for him, and from his brother’s words, to the call with you earlier, and all the moments in between, he’s left at the top - full of love and affection for you and he just wants to be able to tell you, show you.

Junghyun didn’t ask any more questions after the call; he just knew, and it’s the kind of support that Jungkook is grateful for.

He tiptoes up the stairs and turns on his bedside lamp, spotting the flowers that he sent the other day on your night table. You’re lying comfortably, sleeping soundly, wearing one of his loose university shirts. You’re on your side, your leg and arm around his pillow, and he smiles to himself; that’s how he sleeps when you’re away, too.

He whispers your name. “Hey, babe. I’m here. I came home early. Can you wake up for me?”

He repeats the words a few more times before your eyes slowly open.

You blink repeatedly as if to make sense of what you’re seeing, and when Jungkook says hey and shows you that smile you’ve missed so much, you realize it’s real. He’s real, and he’s home.

“Kook?” You ask, sitting up, taking in the work attire you just saw on the screen hours ago. “What are you doing here? You… you have a meeting in the morning.”

“I know,” he replies, sitting on the bed to face you. “I had it moved to lunch so I can drive home tonight. So I can be with you.”

“Why?” You croak.

Your eyes are swollen, crusty. “Because I didn’t want you to cry alone.”

You’re caught off guard but you try to lie, even if you know he won’t buy it. “I… I didn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

You turn away and that’s when a tear falls, one of many that you shed this whole week, and you’re not even a crier.

But Jungkook catches it, wipes it with his thumb and then cups your cheek as he moves closer to you.

“I hate it when you cry,” he says, “even more when it’s because of me, and especially when I’m not around to hold you.”

You close your eyes and savor his touch. “I hate crying, too,” you whisper. “Please, Kook, please just hold me.”

“Baby, come here.”

He pulls you by your waist and onto his lap, and with his strength, he shifts to lean against the headboard so he can hug you even tighter. You find refuge in his neck and you take him in - his scent, his warmth, and the way his body fits so perfectly against yours. They’re what keep you from crying even harder, and both of you just sit there for a while, savoring being in each other’s arms again.

You finally pull away, wanting to see his face. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not calling, for the things I said, for being—”

“None of that, Kook,” you interject. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m the one who does.”

“We both do,” he says. “We won’t be able to move on if you think it’s all on you. And I’m not perfect either. But it’s never just on one person. We share the burden, right? We share the responsibility, so that’s what we’ll do. I apologize and you let me, you apologize and I’ll let you. Deal?”

“Deal.”

You sit next to him on the bed with his arm still around your waist. You look at him as his free hand traces patterns on your bare thighs.

“I’m sorry for the things I said and how I said them,” he starts. “I’m sorry for not listening to you and not trusting that you’d tell me the truth. I’m sorry for being distant. I just didn’t know what to say. I had these mixed emotions, you know? I love you so much but I was so upset and I couldn’t seem to get over it. Hyung told me that it’s normal, and I guess I’m new to this, you know? Obviously being married but also…” he trails, intertwining his fingers with yours now. “Just loving someone. I’ve never done it with anyone; I’ve never truly loved anyone before you. I always copped out when it got hard and tense, so I’m sorry for letting all that affect me, for letting it affect us.”

“Okay, Kook,” you reply, your eyes softening at his words. You kiss his hand before you speak.

“And I’m sorry for keeping things from you, for not trusting you enough that you’d put me first,” you say. “It’s just my default state, I guess, but you’re my husband and these are things that I should be most honest with you about because my sickness doesn’t just affect me, it affects you, too. I’m sorry, for sometimes not being more forward about how I feel, for letting things just fall away because I don’t like confrontations. Those things scare me but I need to be braver, more honest, more trusting.”

“Okay,” he says this time, kissing your hand as well. “I also want to apologize for what I said, about us having kids. I didn’t mean for you to take it that you’re not ready because we haven’t gotten our communication skills all figured out yet. I don’t ever want you to think that you’re not ready because of that, because of what I said. Do you still feel that way?”

“No,” you shake your head. “It was a bandaid idea, I guess, agreeing with what you said just because I believed it would help us. I thought about it more and no, I don’t mean what I said.”

“Good,” he smiles, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek. “Can we do that every time? Not dismiss what we want to apologize for and then talk about things openly? With trust and love?”

You nod, savoring the feel of him again. “And then we can kiss and make up?”

“Of course,” he smirks. “That’s the next order of business.”

He pulls you closer, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, hot and heavy, turning needy in seconds. You both sigh into it at the same time, definitely missing each other’s tastes, having been without it for days. Your tongues fight for dominance and he wins, digging deep into you before exploring further and nibbling your lips as he enjoys the playful yet desperate way you both take each other in.

It’s your turn to dominate after, pulling on the long strands of hair that frame his face, as if you want him closer than he’s physically able. You climb back on his lap, wanting nothing more than to eliminate the clothing in between. You hold onto kissing him for longer, even as you slow down once you start to lose breath, and he nudges your nose to get your attention.

“Hmm, needy wife things indeed,” he teases.

You sit up and pout. “You didn’t mind me for days. I think I deserve to be needy.”

“Baby, you don’t need a reason to be. You know I like it when you are, it makes me hard.”

You snort, shifting a bit to feel that he is, indeed, semi-hard.

“So, then is making love to your needy wife the next order of business?”

“It is, but…” he says, making you pout again, and Jungkook has to restrain himself from taking you right then and there. He knows that just like him, you want to express things through your bodies, and he wants it to be perfect. “I’ve been out all day and I smell like yakiniku because that’s what we had for dinner.”

“You smell perfect,” you shake your head, already unbuttoning his top, slowly revealing his toned chest and immediately kissing it.

“Thanks for the ego boost, babe, but seriously. I need a bath so I can be all clean and take you until we fall asleep. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Fine,” you sigh, facing him then getting off his lap. You know he’s right, though. His stamina would let you go on all night until you both fall asleep, and you know he likes his bath. It’s a good thing he looks best after it.

He chuckles as he gets off the bed, smirking when he sees you bite your lips the moment he undoes the rest of his buttons and removes his polo. With his messy long hair, tattooed arm, and bare torso against his black slacks, Jungkook looks like the perfect husband.

“Don’t miss me too much,” he teases, stealing another kiss before running to the bathroom.

You laugh at his antics, and much as you want him right now, you also welcome the bit of time you have to process what happened, to take everything in, and let go of all your worries.

He came home, drove 4 hours from Busan to get to you so you wouldn’t be alone, so he could apologize, so you don’t have to wait until tomorrow to see him. The way he loves you is so sure, contrary to what he may think. The way he loves you is the only way you want to be loved.

You hear the shower turn off and you call out to him. “Kook, are you done?”

“Coming!” He yells, and you feel like a giggly love struck girl as you lie on the bed.

He exits the bathroom and stands before the bed, wet hair pushed back with droplets of water still hanging on his body. He’s completely naked, and you squeeze your thighs at the heavenly sight.

“Why is this still on?” He asks as he hovers over you and tugs your - his - shirt.

“So you can take it off,” you smirk, and the way the playfulness in Jungkook’s eyes turns to pure desire is hypnotic.

His hands start on your lower legs, his fingers ghosting over the skin before he reaches the hem of your top. He grips it then pulls it over your head, taking in the sight of you bare underneath him. His eyes map your body, and you feel the shiver as they do. His effect on you is immediate, something that he feels himself once his thigh slots in between your legs and you can’t help but jerk and rub against him.

“Wet already?” He smirks.

You nod in response. “It’s been a while.”

“I know. There’s a lot of stored energy now.”

You gush over his teasing. Typical of him, including sounding like it’s a threat.

His hand moves to your cheek, cupping it before his thumb traces your lower lip, teasing you even more.

You slowly lick the tip before taking his digit in your mouth, sucking like you know he wants you to, and you can’t help but moan at the act.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls.

He retrieves his wet thumb and then uses it to trace circles on your pert nipple. You close your eyes as you feel the tension slowly build, and you can’t wait for what’s to come.

Liking your reaction, he hums, then goes ahead to attack your neck, nibbling and licking as he wishes. He knows just how to work your sensitive spot there, causing you to grind harder against his thigh. You feel it tighten, bracing itself for your beating.

Jungkook moves to your shoulder, softly kissing the skin there, and then trailing down your chest. He gazes at the tiger lily tattoo in the middle like he always does, humming once he makes it to your free breast. With his fingers on one and his mouth on the other, you feel like you could explode any minute. Once your grinding gets erratic, he slows down.

“Wait, baby. You can’t do strenuous activities, right? Is sex considered strenuous?” He furrows his brows.

“Well, that depends on the sex. I have the stamina of a normal person, I don’t know about you,” you chuckle.

“I’ll go slow, then.”

“Or… you can go however you like and I’ll tell you when it’s too much,” you counter. “Trust me?”

“Trust you,” he smiles, shifting his body now as he continues to kiss down your torso.

He feels the shivers on your skin and the way you’re panting, and he’s barely even done anything. The wet patch on your silk undies makes him hum in satisfaction, and much as he wants to tease you further, he also can’t wait himself - to taste you, to feel all of you.

Jungkook slowly removes your last piece of clothing. You meet his eyes the moment he licks a strip on your cunt, and you see that familiar look of lust and adoration.

He repeats his movement with a bit of variation each time - swirling on your bud, sucking, licking the lips, teasing your hole. You slowly get lost in the feel of his tongue on your skin, and you know you want more.

“Inside me please, Kook,” you pant, eyes closed as he now licks the back of your thighs while he thumbs your aching clit. “Want you so much.”

He removes himself from your pussy, facing you now with his slick-stained mouth and chin. He makes a show of wiping your essence off his face then licking his fingers. “Don’t want to waste it,” he always says.

Taking your cheek in his hand, he kisses you again. There’s this fervent way he does it, like he gets completely lost when his mouth is on yours. It’s messy and needy but loving just the same.

You feel his incredibly hard dick against your tummy, and you whisper once more. “Please.”

He removes himself from you and gets on his knees. He spreads out your thighs, presenting him with a view that sends shockwaves through him once more. You’re glimmering and throbbing, and he can only hope he doesn’t go too hard and hurt you in the process.

Lifting your ass a little, Jungkook puts a pillow underneath and finds the perfect angle with you elevated like this. With your legs bent on the side, he slowly makes his way in. You both watch in a daze as his cock slides perfectly inside your cunt, disappearing before he pulls back and pushes against you once more.

You feel him so deep within you, and with this angle, he’s hitting the exact spot you want him to. But as you look up at him, you see the view that makes you go absolutely feral.

His damp hair has slightly curled. It gets to his face so he combs it back. With his head tilted, you see the sight of his gorgeous neck, down to his chest and his pert nipples that you can’t wait to nibble on. Your eyes move to the line in the middle of his torso, his abs taut and so pronounced; the way his hips move shows his v-line in action, and you moan when he pushes deeper after he sees where you’re focused on.

“Like that, baby?” He smirks.

“Yes. Keep going, please.”

He follows, gripping your thighs tighter to secure your body as he pushes with more fervor this time. He tilts his head back again and bites his lower lip, clearly liking the feel of you as he mouths curses every time.

The tattoos decorating his one arm is beautiful. The colors pop out and they come to life when he moves. It’s contrasted by his other arm - fair, smooth, dotted by beauty marks. The lines that form when he flexes makes you lose it even more, and with his rough hands spreading you apart and his moans of how tight and perfect you are, the tension slowly builds until you’re reaching your peak.

“Close, Kook. I’m close.”

He heeds your call and knows exactly what to do. He removes the pillow and lays you flat on your back, your legs now flushed against your chest as Jungkook comes closer. His mouth meets yours once again as he thrusts even harder, deeper inside of you. You moan into the kiss and you’re hypnotized. There are tears in your eyes as you take all of him in, even more when his lips move to your neck, and he licks and kisses your sensitive spot that has you keening.

You rarely curse but the words echo in your head. It’s filled with him and his touch and his moans and you feel that familiar coil in your belly. You’re so close, and when your mouth opens with no sound coming out, Jungkook knows it, too. So he drags himself inside you, letting you feel all of it.

“You’re so good for me, baby. Fuck, you’re so good,” he groans. “Keep taking it, yeah?”

You moan your yes but you don’t know if any sound comes out.

Jungkook feels you tighten around his cock, so he lifts himself a little so he could fondle your breast, knowing it gets you even more going. You feel the sensation intensify, and with his movements combined, you let out a scream that accompanies your release.

It’s so good, and it feels like it’s not ending. You feel yourself get wetter and wetter, and the journey after the high feels slower.

“Kook, honey. Come for me, please,” you heave. “I want to feel your cum inside me. I want that, baby.”

Jungkook goes feral at your words, as you plead for him to empty himself inside you. So he thrusts even harder, faster, losing his rhythm as he just follows what his body wants. He’s reaching even deeper, and you pull on his hair to get him to come closer.

You know what gets him going, so you make sure your voice reaches his ears.

“You fuck me so well, baby,” you pant, knowing that the rare times you’re vulgar turns him on even more. “You feel so good inside me, so hard and so good. You’re mine, baby. And I’m yours.”

“Fuuuuck, baby. Fuck, you sound so good,” he whines. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

“Just keep going, I can take it. I can take all of you,” you moan again. “I want all of you, want to feel your hot cum inside me.”

His thrusts are sloppy, and you feel his body quivering as he nears his peak. You lick his mouth before whispering, “I love you, Kook. I love you so much.” Then you kiss him, let your tongue explore inside him, and it’s when he tightens his hold on your body that you know he’s reached it.

You feel the spurts of his essence inside you, hot and thick as he keeps going. He slows down his thrusts as he comes down, breathing heavily.

“I love you,” he whispers, meeting your eyes. There’s all the love and adoration and care that you’ve missed.

“Say it again, please,” you whisper back.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you. So much.”

You hold his gaze before you ask for the last time. “Again.”

He searches your eyes briefly before he answers once more, slowly this time. “I love you.”

You find yourself in Jungkook’s arms once again. He’d just cleaned you up and he pulled you close to him right after lying back in bed. For the past weeks of barely kissing you, he’s making up for it now, as he pecks your lips every few seconds, as if he wants to fall asleep doing exactly that.

He cradles your face in his hand, his thumb caressing your cheek and you, smiling as you savor his touch.

You’re so beautiful like this, he thinks to himself, when there’s just love and adoration in your eyes. He doesn’t think he fully deserves it after the way he’s treated you, but honesty and forgiveness are so powerful, he’s realized now. It’s how you got to face each other again; it’s how you got to bare yourselves once more and show how much you love each other way more than words.

But the way you told him to say he loves you sticks with him. So he asks.

“Did what happened make you doubt how much I love you?” He whispers. “Did I do that?”

“No, Kook,” you smile. “I just wanted to hear it. It’s been a while.”

“I’m sorry,” he pouts. “I wasn’t sure I could say it wholeheartedly when I was still upset.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him.

“No, it’s not. That’s when you need to hear it the most,” he says dejectedly. “When we aren’t in a good place, that’s when I need to tell you. That even if I’m upset and hurt, I still love you. Because I do. I know that now. And I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” you say softly. “We have to learn how to talk and say what we feel, ask space respectfully if we want it. And assure each other all the time.”

“We will,” he hums. “I… I don’t ever want to make you feel like I don’t want you. I’m so sorry for that, baby. I promise you, I won’t do that ever again.”

You nod, falling short of words. So you kiss him deeply to let him know that it’s okay, that you forgive him, and that you’ll both be alright again.

It’s a kiss that says so much more, and Jungkook knows this. He returns it just as passionately, until the moans come and both your hands travel to places, mapping out each other’s bodies once more. Your lips draw patterns on his chest, on his torso, leaving marks all over his neck.

Jungkook takes you again, much gentler this time, with nothing but soft moans and your heaving breaths echoing in your moonlit bedroom. You both keep your eyes open as you meet each other’s thrusts. You hope he sees in your eyes all the adoration and forgiveness and promises that you see in his.

Jungkook’s eyes are the prettiest you’ve ever seen.

And everyday you thank the universe that it allowed you to live long enough to see them gaze at you with so much love.

“Baby,” he calls out after settling down from both your highs. “I know you’re tired but… would you like to go to Busan with me tomorrow? It’s a long drive for a lunch meeting and I want to be with you as much as possible.”

“That sounds nice, honey,” you perk up. “I think lunch by the beach is what I need. I’ve missed the ocean so much.”

“Okay, then. We need to leave early, though. Let’s pass by your favorite cafe for take out breakfast,” he smiles.

“Okay,” you say, kissing him. “Goodnight, Kook.”

“Goodnight, baby. I love you.”

Busan at this time of the year is beautiful. There’s something about the cold air and chilly breeze from the ocean that oddly makes it feel warmer for you. It reminds you a lot about growing up - hanging by the beach while you watch the other kids play, smelling the flowers that you see, drinking warm drinks while the seagulls call out to each other.

You rarely come home but when you do, it’s nostalgic, especially as you recall a little Kookie running around, restless and always looking for something to do.

You lean against Jungkook’s chest as he sits behind you, watching the mid-afternoon sun over the water. You walked here after he dropped you off at a nearby cafe, and you’ve been glued to your book since then. Your husband had just finished his meeting and he came here right away.

“I missed home,” you say, closing your eyes to savor the surroundings. “Everything almost looks the same but we’ve changed. It’s nice to be back here.”

Jungkook hums and gets lost in his thoughts. He remembers growing up and running around the beaches, playing all the water sports he can, getting lost in the side streets, and rollerblading through the alleys.

He remembers avoiding you, although he admits the few times that he tried to get your attention secretly, quietly. It was weird then, he thinks now. You broke his heart at 4 years old when you rejected his offer to play at the playground and he thought of stopping trying to be your friend. He succeeded most of the time, but a small part of him still wanted you around somehow; a part of him wanted your attention, wanted you to know what he was doing, what he was good at - whether it’s drawing, playing soccer, or making friends.

It’s funny to think that over a decade after moving away, he’s back here as your husband. And you’re right. Not much has changed but both of you have. It’d be nice to revisit all those places of your childhood. You did mention wanting to create new memories, after all.

“We should spend a week here, then. What do you think?” He says. “I’ll negotiate with Father. Maybe spend a day or a half at the office, get some work done from home while you’re painting or something, but we can visit our grandparents, our school, the places we used to go to. What do you think?”

“Ah, I like that, Kook,” you turn to him with a smile. “Let’s come back here and make new memories.”

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#jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #husband jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook series #please love me

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astroyongie · 19 days

Text

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Paranoid

Note: Sorry for taking so long to update this one. The angsty series continues with this one

Pairings: Mark x Reader

Warnings: HEAVY ANGST!!! mentions of suicide, mentions of depression and anxiety, drugs and medications, mentions of death.

Music: https://open.spotify.com/intl-pt/track/5hhxHo29bE78Y18gbhamlF?si=af661e1c52ca494e

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You entered inside your Massarati, locking the doors as you allowed your body to hit the comfort of the red leather. Your brain hammered inside your skull, the instant pulse making you regret every decision you had taken earlier that night. Pushing your thoughts aside, you sniffed your feelings away, starting the car.

The roaring purr came to life, as you drove the vehicle back into the street, leaving behind you the luxury hotel where the MAMA awards after party is being held. You just couldn’t spare another moment in their company, not when everyone was happy and laughing and you just wanted to scream on the top of your lungs. Entrainment industry was a pit of snakes, you name it, idols, actors, sponsors, managers all seeking for money and fame to the expenses of people's pain and blood.

As you sat behind the wheel, your grip on reality seemed to wane with every passing mile. The rhythmic hum of the engine blended with the erratic beats of your heart, echoing the chaotic dance of thoughts you fought to forget. You prayed that no police stopped you as your dilated pupils betrayed your altered state.

The world outside blurred, while your mind teetered on the edge of euphoria and unease. You felt your body shiver, the aftermath of your reckless behaviors coming for you. Without thinking twice, you stopped on the side of the road. If you kept speeding in such a state you would end up hurting someone. Taking a deep breath as you tried to collect yourself, you hissed from muscular spasm.

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, hands gripping the wheel tighter.

You looked at yourself through the rearview mirror. Your make-up was smuggled across your face, your eye shadow fading as your mascara tainted beneath your eyes. Seeing your reflection, made your stomach twist in disgust. You were Y/n, an idol of one of the most successful girl groups of your generation. You were loved and talented, earning jealousy from others. Yet you couldn't bear the sight of yourself. Despite all compliments you often received from others, you found it hard to believe them.

Little did they know that you were fighting for your life, each passing second.

MAMA had been held tonight and without surprise, your group won best feminine group of the year. People expected you to be happy and screaming in joy, but you sucked at pretending. How would you exaggerate such an emotion when it was something that you were already aware of, as these shows were all planned out and rigged. What wasn’t planned out however, was the speech made by NCT 127 in honor of Mark Lee.

To you, it had felt like millions of needles piercing your heart, as you had to stand there and hear about it without being able to show any hint of emotion. Betraying sadness would have made you look like a hypocrite in the eyes of the public. To them, you had no connection to Mark, mourning in public would be giving people reasons to gossip.

At the after party, you were hit with a wave of questions related to your relationship with Mark, having to hear the most pathetic excuses from rich sponsors. It had ripped your heart, and again due to your idol image, you had to pretend that you weren't hurt. You had ended up sniffing a whole line, in hope it would quiet your thoughts, numb the unstoppable pain and growing anxiety at the pit of your stomach.

If Mark saw you today, he would have been disappointed and the thought of it, made you want to sink deeper in anything that would stop such guilty thoughts.

“Fucking pricks” you cursed out again, your hands hitting without much strength, the wheel of your car.

You reached for your purse, grabbing your pills prescribed for your generalized anxiety. Without counting, you pour some into your hand, proceeding in swallowing the drug, hands shaking. You groaned at the feeling, praying to all entities that no sasaeng or paparazzi was around. A scandal was the last thing you needed at the moment.

Being an idol has been the worst mistake of your life.

No. Not answering that phone call had been the worst fucking decision of your life.

You still remembered it clear as water. It was a friday night, the rain poured outside. You and Mark had just got into a stupid argument because of another girl idol that was hitting on him. That night you had lost control of your anger, violently pushing Mark away and cursing him out with the worst insults without hearing his version. Slamming the door of his apartment, you had left back to your own place. You knew Mark had been having some rough weeks with promotions. He had barely slept in days, had not eaten much and you had thought of preparing him a date night would help with his own anxiety and inner turmoils.

Instead, you had left him there after something egoistic that communication would have solved. You remember driving down to your place. Your phone had rang. His name appeared on the screen as you had ignored it. Mark had proceeded to call you two more times that you equally ignored, unable to digest your anger at that moment.

The memory made the air in your lungs knock you out. You felt your airways getting restrained as if something was blocking it. Seeking for air, you started hyperventilating, sobs coming out of your mouth. Hot, big, fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you cried. It was always the same goddamn thing.

Mark had died tragically that same night, 3 months ago. The next thing you learnt was that your boyfriend had been taken to the emergency room but didn't make it out alive. His lungs filled in dioxyde carbone smoke from what his parents had explained to you. An accident, the doctors said, gas that had leaked. How, didn't matter to you. All you could think about was how he had called you that night, for help. But your own anger and frustration blinding your reason, declining his call–

You had killed him, you were convinced. If only you hadn’t been so caught up in childish feelings, Mark would have been by your side.

“Do it”

The voice on your head echoed like a prayer, which made you stop breathing for a short seconds out of surprise. You looked at the bottle of your pills still there in your hands. Perhaps you had to pay for what you had done. Your hand tightened around the plastic bottle, tears streaming down your face.

You missed him so much.

You were tired of life. Nothing made sense to you. Perhaps, this was the best solution.

You took a few more pills, swallowing the lorazepam dry. You groaned at the feeling on your throat, coughing before the bottle fell from your hands, spilling the content next to your feet and pedals. You cried heavily. You didn't remember crying like this at his funeral, the emotions numbed by the denial of the situation. Your hand went to your chest, gripping at the fabric of your dress as you tried to rip away this feeling consuming you.

It took a few minutes. Between the alcohol consumed tonight, the cocaine and the unknown number of lorazepam, you started to feel your body getting heavy. Your crying eventually ceased and your breathing became constant. You close your eyes, dreaming of his touch, of his presence. You didn't know if you deserved such confort, but your mind was too messed up, too high to rationalize.

“Y/n”

The rough voice jolted you awake, its resonance seeming to penetrate your very consciousness. With effort, you willed your eyes to open, greeted by the sight of Mark seated beside you. Despite the haze of grogginess, a smile tugged at your lips as you acknowledged him.

“Mark” you murmured, unable to tell if the whole scenario was an illusion your brain had mastered “Am I dead yet?”

“No” Mark said. He was worried, the timber of his voice reminding you, you were amidst danger. Although you couldn't clearly see his face, you swore to yourself he was real. Sitting next to you on the passenger seat, he wore the same clothing from the day of his death. His face was a strange gray color but his eyes still held the warmness of his bubbly personality.

“My head” you whined to yourself, unable to move your body, lethargy taking over you. He wasn’t real, you knew it deep down. This was the drug's side effects, there was no other explanation for this. Your head felt light, yet, the need for sleep was taking over your body as you felt your eyes closing.

“Stay awake Y/n” Mark said in a hurried voice, stopping you from fluttering your lids close. You groaned, trying to rub your eyes but your hand was too heavy to move. Everything seems to be going slower than normal, as if the world was holding its breath.

“I am sleepy” you said but tried to move nonetheless, trying to reach for Mark’s touch. It was stupid really, you thought. There were so many things you wanted to say, so many words but your lips were not in sync with your mind. You needed to apologize, ask for his forgiveness. You moaned in pain, the dizziness making you nauseous.

“Y/n” he called again and you forced yourself to look at him. Your mouth was like papersand, you were thirsty. “breathe deeply, through your nose” he indicated and you tried to follow his indications. Your body felt on fire, as the effects of the dangerous cocktail coursed through your veins.

“It hurts”

“I know”

Waves of dizziness and disorientation crashed over you, blurring the lines between reality and hallucination. Nausea clawed at your stomach, threatening to erupt with each passing moment. Your heart raced erratically, its frenetic beats echoing the chaos within. Every breath felt labored, as if the air around you had turned thick and suffocating.

“Why did you leave me?” you asked and the pain in your chest became more prominent. You were torn between throwing up and punching a hole in your chest to breathe properly. “Why did you left me”

You must have lost your mind. Deep down you knew this wasn't Mark, this was just a fruit of your imagination, one that your guilty paranoid self needed to see. So many nights asking for a chance of asking forgiveness and yet amidst your crisis all you could master was blaming him for these feelings.

“I am sorry,” Mark murmured, the words echoing against your eardrums. It hurted you, it felt like you were bleeding from the inside out. “Y/n, you need to wake up. You need to call someone”

No, you thought. by doing that you would have to go back to the reality which meant leaving Mark behind. Even if this wasn't real, it was the closest thing you had to seeing him.

“But I miss you” you said, the tears clouding your eyes. His bloodied face smiled down at you.

“I know. But you can't be with me for now”

“Why?” The words left your mouth with a desperate sob. In the midst of this torment, a profound sense of dread settled over you, a haunting reminder that you would never be able to feel his touch, his laugh ever again.

“There's too much you need to do for me, Y/n.” In your mind it made sense. you and mark had made so many plans together, from trips to getting a dog, from getting an apartment together to going to that stupid Beyonce show. “Can you do that? Can you live for me?” The urgency in his voice couldn't be ignored even when you moved your head from side to side, crying.

You were getting paranoid there was no explanation. How could he expect you to live, to experience everything you had promised to do by his side, by yourself? you understood, to honor his memory it was important, to honor his love for you, you couldn't allow yourself to go through such a dark path. Your heart ached so much. Was love worth all this pain?

“Live for me”

You wanted to open your mouth but you couldn't. You had yet to apologize, but your anxiety was ruling over every parcel of your cells. Closing your eyes for a second, to recollect yourself you breathed. It felt like you were inhaling sharp needles, your lungs writhing in devious pain. Mark’s words repeated itself in your brain. Forcing yourself to open your eyes, before looking at the passenger seat. Mark wasn't there anymore.

Instead, your phone layed there, abandoned next to your purse. You screamed in pain, forcing yourself to move your body, your muscles feeling like they were ripping inside of you. As you reached for it, with trembling hands, you pushed yourself back to your initial position, swallowing the bile that had recoiled around your mouth. Then you pressed the emergency room, putting the phone on speaker.

“911, what’s your emergency” the masculine voice behind the phone asked and you sighed through your sobs.

“Please help me. I can’t die. I have to live. Please”

You didn't want to live. But you had agreed to one thing. The only way to be forgiven for your sin, was to live for Mark. To that, you would willingly give your life for.

#mark lee #nct 127 mark #nct mark #mark x reader #nct 127 #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 headcanns #nct 127 headcanons #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 reactions #mark headcanons #mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #mark lee x reader

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sveene · 1 month

Text

A very heart-wrenching scene from an rp with a friend. Vic is being shown the footage of the aftermath of him being given an experimental drug by GHOST. Here’s the scene that inspired the drawing;

______

The reality of the situation hit Vic like cold water as his vision cleared, the ringing in his head died down, voices came into focus, as did everything else - including the blue-white light of the room he was in. Naturally, he looked down and began to struggle against his bonds, even despite that he had no strength left at all, his movements were violent enough that he broke one of the bonds holding him and further damaged one of his arms in the process.

“**Secure him, for fuck’s sake.**”” Lena spat at one of the masked scientists, who were clearly unfamiliar with the Cyborg. The next thing Vic felt was the strangest sensation he’d ever experienced in his life. With the push of a button, the cables in his head delivered targeted electrical signals into specific regions of his brain, completely paralysing his body from the neck down.

He blinked in shock, not even able to communicate the fear he was feeling as he could not move an inch. Victor was no coward though. He had experienced worse and he was not going to be broken easily. He regained his composure and wordlessly stared ahead as he heard them approach.

“…*’You’re looking well’*, Victor~” Lena mocked, reminding him of why she hated him so, as well as being as potently sarcastic as possible all in the space of one sentence. Vic looked deathly.

Silas didn’t seem to notice, he was too busy making note of what a shame it was going to be to *waste* such a weapon… He hardly noticed that Vic was even human at all.

“Such a feat of engineering and biomechanics~ I am pleased to meet you at last, Victor. Allow me to introduce myself briefly, I am Silas. See me and mine as ah, the clean-up crew. Don’t be alarmed, my men are well trained but nobody here is going to harm you.. That is, unless you *make* them want to harm you..”

Vic’s eyes narrowed under his brow, his jaw set and clenched as he simply stared ahead, allowing his eyes to close for a moment of intense frustration before finally turning his face toward the man who called himself Silas. He noticed Lena standing there and scoffed, allowing himself to grin as he laid his head back.

“…What’ll it be this time, Lena? What, pray tell, the fuck….” Vic lamented, almost deliriously with his voice cracking as he grinned at his pathetic, exhaustive situation.

He soon looked toward Silas as Lena circled around the bed, obviously taking her time for the sheer *fun* of seeing Victor so helpless.

“Silas, is it? Well Si, why don’t you hop up on my lap and *swivel*~ Then, you and your …heh, ‘boys’ here can show me how good of a ‘clean up crew’ you *really* are. Cunt.” Vic seethed out, the venom in his voice as cold as ice and sharper than frostbite. He coldly spat at Silas’s feet, getting him on his ever-so-shiny boots. He was fully beyond giving a fuck anymore at this point and went back to chuckling to himself.

Silas looked down at his boots, not expecting such spirit, but Lena was furious, as ever. If only she could find a way to *silence* that mouth of his…

She stormed over, closing the gap between herself and the scientist, grabbed him under his jaw and then back-handed him across the face as hard as she could.

“Now I have your attention, you *might* wanna shut the fuck up, because I’ve got a *cute* little video, you might wanna see.” Lena whispered to him, as she then turned her attention to the screen. She lifted the remote, it started playing ….the same scream he’d been hearing in his nightmares for days, the same fragments of the fight with Sky he’d also re-lived, were now playing before him in what looked like 4K…. His face changed in an instant as the sound made him jump, the piercing cries and now, *the footage* of what he did as well. Before Vic could even begin to process what he was seeing, his eyes were blinking tears that ran down his face as he watched and listened in abject terror.

____

Vic and Lena (C) me

Sky (C) Turtwap

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heyidkyay · 7 months

Note

Oh my god now you’ve got the image of G and Birdie with a little baby girl into my head… you can’t not write it now! I’d love to see maybe them introducing their baby girl to the rest of the band… or anything else you can come up with 🤣

I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name | The aftermath

A little snippet:)

My due date was March 23rd. Which meant that George would be getting quite the birthday present (if the baby had perfect timing) and that they’d most definitely be an Aries, which were two things I couldn’t quite get behind, but something G was ecstatic over.

Matty had been hoping the little one would arrive a little late, two weeks late to be precise, just so that he could get one over on George and have the baby share something in common with him instead. He really had been an absolute sweetheart throughout the entire pregnancy, but my God was he pushing it trying to get me to extend the absolute hell I’d endured.

I’d gone through almost every symptom pregnancy had to offer, from day one I’d felt absolutely vile and then when my second trimester had rolled round I’d had to deal with Braxton Hicks, an undeniable appetite (I’d felt like an actual monster), and dizziness that rivalled anything I’d ever felt before. Including the time when I’d been hit by a fucking car.

Still, all of Matty’s efforts appeared in vain now seeing as though I went into labour on February 13th, five whole weeks before I was even due.

To say I’d shit myself would have been an absolute understatement. I was fucking terrified to give birth, let alone that early, and to make matters worse, George had been set to play a show, which meant that he’d had no idea my water had broken until I was high as a kite on fucking gas and air, and he was finally off stage. But thankfully, I’d also been at work and Delia had been the one to walk me through the whole process, we’d headed straight to hospital, due to the fact that I should not have been going into labour this prematurely, but also because she was afraid I was going to give myself a sodding aneurysm simply down to the amount I was panicking.

But who could blame me?

Anywho, the whole thing seemed a bit small in comparison to when I finally did give birth. We’d been blessed with a tiny, little baby girl- 7 lbs 4 ounces and with a head of thick unruly hair. But before George and I could even get a look in the doctor had told me to start pushing- again.

“They’re coming along quite quickly now, just a few more deep breaths.”

“You what?” I ask the man in scrubs settled between my legs. Baffled wasn’t even a word I’d begin to use to describe the emotions that hit me right then, having thought I’d heard him wrong until I saw the alarming look on George’s face.

“We need you to push, you can already see baby’s head.” A midwife informs me, ushering George to once again take my hand, to comfort me. He does but he’s caught in a daze.

“But, but I just did that bit.” I say, mostly stunned, delirious almost for a moment.

“I know, and you did wonderfully. But baby two isn’t too far behind.” She replies, smiling down at me sincerely even as her attention diverts between a handful of other people stood in the delivery room.

Her words seem to startle G back into reality, “Baby two? As in twins?”

“Twins! What the hell do you mean, twins?” I feel dizzy once more, head darting between the nurse beside me, G, and the doctor who’s seen a little too much of my insides for my liking. I think I start mumbling then, rambling off a ton of questions, a mile a minute, to anyone and everyone who will listen. Twins. “Are you sure? Twins?”

The nurse laughs, not unkindly, then nods, “Definitely sure, even saw it for myself.”

I’m still not really pushing, too confused, too stunned to really do much, in truth. “Are you having me on? Is this a prank?”

She appears to realise G and I aren’t messing about here and I watch on, frozen, as her whole demeanour shifts before my eyes, “Yes, sweetheart, twins. You really didn’t know?”

I shake my head and am just beyond grateful that George is here with me, holding my hand so tightly that I can truly feel it start to numb- because, what?

Things seem to take a turn then, the entire atmosphere in the room drops when beeping starts up and lights start flashing worryingly. The doctor at the other end of my bed is coaching me through it again, his voice high and harried almost, and I know then that something’s wrong and that it’s all my fault.

“What’s going on?” I ask, eyes immediately snapping over towards the nurse standing beside me but she’s gone, fiddling with the oxygen machine behind my head and then the heart monitor. “G, what- what’s happening? Are they okay? The baby. Are they?”

“You need to push. The baby is losing oxygen, we need to get them out as quickly as possible.”

My heart plummets. I start to panic. It’s my fault. My fault. I’m doing it wrong. I’m to blame. It’s all my fault. I’m messing up and they’re not even really here yet. I’m doing it all wrong.

“We need you to push harder.”

“Breathe.”

“Come on, mum. We need you to really push now.”

“That’s it.”

“Birdie, it’s alright. You’re okay, love. The baby is okay. You just need to push a bit more. Just a little longer, okay?”

I feel my head move- nod?- but the room is spinning, I reckon I’m screaming too. Sobbing, even. My mind so focused on the baby I hadn’t even known I’d been housing, let alone created. My baby.

Two babies! Two.

I let out a loud groan. Barely even aware of the careful fingers on my temple.

“Good girl, B.” George whispers to me, lips pressed against my cheek as he brushes hair from out of my face. “You’re doing so well. So good.”

I cry harder, I push harder.

Time seems to have stilled in its entirety, the minutes won’t move, the seconds don’t count. I am lost in this moment, my mind screaming at me to just try harder.

“And it’s a boy!” I finally hear and then I’m weeping again, crying and clinging to George before he too is dragged away from me by nurses to cut the umbilical cords. I stare up at the ceiling, unable to do much else, chest heaving, thick tears streaming down my cheeks, and all I hear is an overwhelming buzz. The kind I’d grown so used to, starting in my left ear before it soon echos in my right. Jumping, back and forth.

“A boy, Birdie. A boy and a girl.”

I blink and George is there again, hovering over me. He takes my face in his careful hands and holds me so close that we are nose to nose. I realise then he’s crying too.

“Twins.” I whisper breathlessly, every inch of me burns, but I itch to get up, to move and see them.

“Twins.” George repeats with just as much disbelief. “Twins, B. Ours.”

A baby boy, he’d told me. A tiny thing, so full of surprises. He was born smaller than his sister, an even 6 lbs and only ten minutes behind, but his eyes are unlike anything I’ve ever seen, huge and so very innocent, placed between a scattering constellation of tawny freckles that dot his cheeks and kiss his lids.

A girl and a boy. All ours.

I’d been taken with them both the moment I’d set my sights on them, ‘the twins' people had dubbed them. ‘Let’s go see the twins!’ ‘The twins are finally crawling!’ ‘Somebody grab a camera, the twins are being cute again!’

Never did I ever believe I’d have a family of my own, let alone a husband or these two beautiful beings that always seemed to stare back up at me with an incredible amount of innocence. It stirs something deep within me each time they do, both the thought and the very sight of them, and when their tiny little hands wrap their way around my fingers I know that I’ll never feel this type of love again. I don’t think I could even begin to describe it.

They are beautiful and they are ours, and I know from the very bottom of my heart that I will protect them until the day that I die. Because, how could I not?

How could anyone not?

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jungwnies · 2 years

Text

🌠 : ♡₊˚𓂃⠀◟ txt tour headcanon

SYNOPSIS. surprising your boyfriend during his tour !

PAIRING. gn!reader x txt ! GENRE. slice of life, romance, fluff ! WARNINGS. none ! WC. 725 !

AN. requested by my favorite ever 🧸 this was such a cute request gahhh !

,, ❥ ꒰୨୧ ・ — choi soobin (최수빈)

when soobin saw you among the crowd of thousands of people his eyes couldn’t help but begin to tear up. it’s been a few weeks without you and he’s felt a bit empty. although moa and the other members filled him with joy; you filled him with love. his eyes locked with you immediately and he just completely broke down on stage; fans didn’t understand why he suddenly put himself into a squat and began crying but they assumed it was because he was just happy by the crowd. little did they know you were there cheering him and his mates on as they performed with their whole heart. once the concert ended and you were backstage with the boys soobin could help but immediately pull you into a hug and tell you how much he missed you.

,, ❥ ꒰୨୧ ・ — choi yeonjun (최연준)

after a long day of performing all yeonjun wanted to do was eat and sleep. although the loved putting all his energy and effort into every concert, the aftermath of sore muscles and missing you would hit him like none other than a truck. that was until he walked into his hotel room and saw you sitting on his bed scrolling through your phone. his slapped both sides of his face in shock trying to make sure he wasn’t being delusional. he was so surprised to see you but all of his tiredness washed away when you greeted him with a big hug and told him how well he performed today. little did he know you were one of the “fans” in the crowd. he still couldn’t believe you were there in front of him but of course he kissed you immediately and honestly he almost started crying.

,, ❥ ꒰୨୧ ・ — choi beomgyu (최범규)

to say the least beomgyu was shocked to see you among the front row. he didn’t expect to see the love of his life sitting right there in front of him in the first row. professionally he pretended not to pay any mind to you but once they got to the encore stage he finally went up to you and smiled. he reached his hand out to you and mouthed that he loved you and that he has a lot of questions for you once the concert is over. truthfully beomgyu missed you a lot and he was just about ready to break down on stage the moment his eyes were laid on you. the urge he had to just pull you on stage and tell everyone you were the love of his life played a game of tug of war with him.

,, ❥ ꒰୨୧ ・ — kang taehyun (캉태현)

he had just performed the first few songs and the team finally went backstage for their outfit change. taehyun was focused on the performance but the moment he stepped foot into his changing room he expected to see the stylist, but instead he saw you. tyun had to do a double take but once reality set in he pulled you into a big hug leaving the most loving kiss on your lips. he told you much he missed you and how much it means to him that you’re here supporting him. although you’re watching from the back he was more than happy knowing that you were just there. taehyun honestly cried a little before heading back on stage but he couldn’t help it considering he missed you so damn much.

,, ❥ ꒰୨୧ ・ — huening kai (휴닝카이)

when huening saw you wave to him among the crowd of people he couldn’t help but get excited. he started pointing at you to the boys and they waved back at you. the crowd was confused about what was going on but didn’t pay any kind thinking he was just waving to just merely a fan. kai isn’t a crier but when he saw you after weeks of no touch and sight of each other he couldn’t help but want to cry a LITTLE. once the lot of you got backstage after the concert kai immediately ran towards you pulling you into the warmest hug. the members also ran towards you making a group hug because they couldn’t help but feel their heart tug when they saw how happy their maknae got seeing you.

please do not steal, copy, or repost my work on any sites. translations unavailable

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bullet-prooflove · 3 months

Note

Can you do #11 You and me, and a bottle of wine with Terry Bruno? Thanks :)

Prequel to upcoming Valentine's Day Fic: Tinder

It starts with a bottle of Pinot Grigio.

Terry’s usually a beer guy but he finds himself sharing the wine as the two of you sit at the bar in O’Malley’s toasting to the arrest of the ‘Bronx Strangler’. It’s been a gruelling case, Terry had been seconded from Bronx SVU because he’d been the lead when the strangler was just the rapist. Despite his department’s rep, he’s an excellent detective, one of the few good ones you think.

It’s his humour that attracts you, that and his compassion. Like you, he actually gives a shit about what happens to these girls, he empathises with their plight. It’s rare these days, most of the cops you know are jaded, they wouldn’t argue with the brass because a couple of working girls turned up dead.

The nature of the beast, his Captain had said before shifting the case to the bottom of the pile. He’d worked it in his own time after that. You admire his dedication, you’ve done something similar once or twice yourself.

It’s late when you step outside of the bar, you have an Uber turning up in a couple of minutes and Terry insists on waiting with you. The both of you are a little tipsy, the wine goes straight to his head and you lost track after you’d split the second bottle. He has his arm wrapped around your shoulders, steadying you and you can’t help but notice how good it feels to be tucked against his firm body. You can tell he feels it too from the way he looks at you.

There’s a heat in his eyes and you know in that moment, he’s coming home with you tonight.

You don’t remember much about the journey home, only the tenderness of Terry’s mouth as he kisses you into oblivion. When you take him to bed, he slows it down, exploring the contours of your body, learning the rhythm of your pleasure. He’s a generous lover, more so than the man you share this bed with.

He makes love to you that night, his strong arm wrapped around your waist as he holds you close, mumbling sweet nothings into the curve of your throat. It’s the intimacy of it all that overwhelms you, the proximity of him. When he looks at you, it’s like you’re the only woman in the world and that’s not something you’ve felt in a very long time.

“That’s it pretty girl.” He mutters when you come for the first time in months. “That’s it, give it to me.”

It’s in the aftermath that the reality of the situation hit’s you, it must dawn on Terry too because he’s already partially dressed when he inclines his head towards you and says.

“I’ve got a wife.”

You sigh before picking up his shirt from the floor and tossing it across the bed to him.

“I’ve got a boyfriend.”

There’s an understanding in that moment. You both aren’t getting what you need from those relationships but you’re not ready to give them up.

He kisses you before he leaves, it’s a simple brush of the lips but there’s a softness in it, an apology.

“This can’t happen again.” He murmurs, his forehead coming to rest against yours.

“I know.” You whisper before kissing him again.

That’s how it ends, at least it is until you get that notification on Tinder.

@kmc1989 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @beardedbarba @wooshwastaken @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @storiesofsvu @anime-weeb-4-life @witches-unruly-heart @spaghettificationandpretzels @kiwiithecrazybird @kishie8 @whateversomethingbruh @slytherqueen14 @trublu2u

#terry bruno #terry bruno x reader #terry bruno x you #detective terry bruno

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cas-skz · 1 year

Text

Behind Closed Doors (Part 4.3)

Pairing: Choi San x Reader

Summary: The morning after sends you into a panic and San into disappointment. You both have your own way of dealing with the aftermath.

Word Count: 3,052

Warnings/Tags: 18+ , NSFW, MDNI, Mature Content, Language, Alcohol use, Pet Names, Slight Choking/Dominance, Smut, Angst, Unprotected Sex

Written By: @littleforeignaffairs

Read Part

1.1 1.2 2.1 2.2 3.1 3.2 4.1 4.2

You came into consciousness, the sunlight seeping into the room from between the blinds. Though your eyes were already closed, you squeezed them shut. You stretch out, feeling the sheets against your bare skin. It's at that moment you remember the night before. You sit up quickly, gripping the blanket to your body. It takes a couple seconds for your eyes to adjust to the light. When they do, you see you’re alone in bed.

You furrow your brows, looking around the room and on the floor. Looking for any sign that San had been there. You get on your knees starting to the edge of the bed when you hear footsteps; bare feet sticking against the floor. San walks through your bedroom wearing just a towel, drying his hair with another.

“You're awake”

You stare at him blankly

“I hope you don’t mind that I used the shower”

Still, no words leave your mouth. San stares back at you, standing in front of the bed. His gaze slowly becomes filled with concern.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

You suddenly snap back to reality and hop off the bed.

“Oh, this is bad”

You begin to pace around your room, your feet scuffling under the dragging blanket.

San watches you closely

“You mean…”

He points to you, and then himself

You sigh, stopping in front of him.

“San”

You start, then quickly correct yourself

“No, Mr. Choi”

San scoffs a laugh, running his hand through his hair. He shakes his head a little.

“You didn’t think that last night”

He cuts you off

“Its problemat-”

“Why? Because of the club. Because we work in the same office?”

“I mean, its kind of both”

“So? Its not like I want to just fuck around”

“San, still”

San looks in your eyes, he looks hurt. Offended.

“It doesn’t matter that I started having feelings for you? Before we even worked at the same office”

You look away from him, hugging your body. San shook his head again, his jaw protruding. He picks up his clothing, pulling on his bottoms before leaving the room. It was only a few seconds before you heard your apartment door slam. The sound made you wince. You slip down onto the floor. Your chest and throat tighten. You knew at some point you started to really like him too. But, you couldn’t act on it. You lean your head onto your bed, letting the tears well in your eyes.

* * *

“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid”

Tiff hits you repeatedly

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

You had invited Tiff over to day drink, in hopes that it would make you feel better. But Tiff is a clear fan of Lola and Papi, she couldn’t wait to see you and San really get together.

You shield yourself from Tiff’s hands, and sigh heavily when she stops. You grab one of the bottles of wine off the floor, you take a long sip before leaning your head back to rest on your bed.

“You’re not helping”

You groan

“Oh? Am I not!?”

She places her hand on her chest

“I thought I was here to tell you that you’re a FUCKING IDIOT, because you LIKE the man”

You take another drink. You didn’t bother grabbing glasses when she came in. You figured this was how the situation would go; Tiff would be dramatic and complain, while you just got drunk.

“Tiff. He’s a client and my boss. There are boundaries”

“Fuck the boundaries! I have never heard you say anything bad about that man”

Tiff points to the door, acting as if San was there.

“You’re happy when he comes to the club. You’ve even been working late at the office and ditching me. You spend so much time with him already, why is it an issue now”

You run your finger around the lip on the bottle, eyes looking into it. You knew why it was a problem. San could get seriously reprimanded for getting involved with an employee. You think back to this morning, he didn’t seem to care that he could get in trouble. He was more concerned on you knowing how you felt. You groan loudly, pulling your knees up to your chest and letting your head hit them.

“There it is”

Tiff says with relief.

* * *

You knew it was going to be painful, again, going back to work. You already took off yesterday to drink and get yelled at by Tiff. Its time to face the awkwardness of seeing Mr. Choi. Once again, you walk into work and his office lights are off. Its hard to pinpoint your feelings; relief, concern, curiosity. You remove your jacket and sit at your desk, beginning your work.

It doesn’t take long for you to catch up on your missed work from the day before. It appears that Mr. Choi had did what he could to keep you from falling behind. A pang of guilt turned your stomach. You look to the clock. Its almost noon, and Mr. Choi hasn’t arrived yet. You pull up his schedule for the day, he should have been here by now.

You go to your purse, pulling out your phone. Panic hits you seeing multiple missed calls and texts from both Mr. Choi and Tiff.

“What the fuck is going on”

You decide to phone Mr. Choi first. It rings a few times, though it feels infinite. The ringing stops, before a greeting could be heard from the other side of the line, you chime in.

“San? What’s going on? Where are you?"

“Oh, so you’re on a first name basis now, huh?”

It was Tiff.

“Wait.. Why”

“Just come to the club”

She hung up immediately.

You run over to the club in record time, bursting through the doors. You breathe heavily, looking around the bar. You see Tiff behind the bar, her arms crossed over her chest. She’s looking at a male patron sitting at the bar. He’s slouched over. You start to walk over slowly, catching Tiff’s eyes. What you thought at first was anger, was actually a mix between sadness and disappointment.

You come up beside the man, leaning forward to peek at their face. It was Mr. Choi. You bring your hand up to your nose; he reeked of alcohol and damp clothing. You turned back to Tiff.

“Apparently, he’s been bar hopping since last evening”

She sighs. Tiff holds a few drink menus in her hand, looking from San to you. She quickly slaps you on the top of your head with a menu.

“Stupid”

You rub your head immediately at the sting.

“I got it!”

You spit.

Tiff raises a brow, looking you up and down. She holds her other hand up, a pair of keys hung on her finger.

“Take him home”

You nod, taking the keys. You place a hand on Mr. Choi’s shoulder.

“San…Let’s go”

To your surprise, he complies easily.

The drive to San’s house was quiet. He was conscious but didn’t say anything and didn’t look at you. You’ve never been to his house before. You only knew his address for business purposes; mainly when he had asked you to send dry cleaning home for him. The condo he lives in is extremely nice. He, of course, lives in a room on the top floor.

You half laugh to yourself, entering his place. He always gave off that “rich boy” vibe. His furniture is modern, very sleek. It matched his wardrobe choices. You guide him inside and to the bathroom.

“Are you always this dramatic when a girl rejects you”

You try to joke with him, once again he doesn’t speak to you. You clear your throat awkwardly. You stand behind him, slipping off his jacket.

“Clean up. You stink”

San turns to face you, his eyes are intense, and they have you hooked. He grabs hold of your wrist.

“Help me”

He whispers

Your mouth suddenly feels dry, hearing his request. You drop his jacket onto the bathroom floor and turn on the shower for him. San’s eyes keep watch, they seemed like black ice. Cold and sharp, and it makes your heart pound. Your fingers tremble on the buttons of his shirt. You look to his eyes, then back to the buttons. Him watching you is making you nervous.

You want him to talk to you, yell or fight like you did the other night. Anything but silence. You feel as though he’s angry at you. He probably is. You would probably be angry at you too. Your hands land on his stomach, sliding up over his chest and shoulders to slip his shirt off his arms. You look over his body, you’ve seen it already, but each time has felt like a new experience. Your eyes focus on his arm that you bandaged the previous night. Its stained with blood.

“You didn’t go get it checked out? I’m not a doctor you know”

You begin to unwrap the gauze.

“Why”

He starts. He grabs your hand gently. It catches you off guard, you look to meet his eyes.

“Are you concerned?”

“Yes”

Your voice so quiet, it could barely be heard over the screech of the shower. San places your hand on his face, his hand covering yours.

“What will you do about it then”

San is challenging you, and you’re fully aware. No matter how hard you try you can’t pull your eyes off him. San leans down, touching his lips to yours softly. At first, you don’t move, not wanting to kiss him back. You were already captivated with his eyes, now his touch is making you feel intoxicated.

You carefully return the kiss, but stop short before things progressed too quickly. You clear your throat and motion towards the shower with your hand.

“Get in, I can look at your arm since you wouldn’t go to a doctor”

San begins to remove his bottoms to get in the shower. You panic a little, looking around the bathroom.

“Wait”

He pauses, looking at you. You open a few cupboards searching until you find a towel.

“Here”

You hold the towel up to him. San looks at the towel, then back to you

“Seriously?”

You shake the towel a little, a pleading look on your face. San sighs, taking the towel to wrap around his waist.

San stood in the shower, letting water bounce and roll off his skin. His eyes are closed while you look at his arm, investigating to ensure there were no splinters left behind. You carefully run your fingers just below the wound. San flinches, opening his eyes to look at you. You grip his lower arm

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, are you okay”

“I’m fine, its just a little tender”

You look up to San, catching his eyes. Water drops slide down his face. You reach up, wiping his hair off his brow, then wiping the water from around his eyes.

“You need to take better care of yourself”

You murmur.

San touches your hand, his fingers curling around yours.

“Then how will I get you to pay attention to me”

San scans your face, stepping in closer to you.

Your cheeks flush, trying to look away, but San grabs your chin with his other hand.

“What should I do to get you to look my way”

San whispers, bringing his lips close to yours.

Your eyes slowly close, waiting to feel his lips touch yours. Sans eyes look over your face, taking your actions as an “okay” to keep going. San cups your face, gently kissing you.

Wavering over San is proving to be difficult. Everything about him keeps pulling you in: His eyes, lips, hands. You take a step into San, water hitting your face. Your lips part on his, and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. You take another step towards San, while he steps back. His back hits the wall of the shower; his hands move onto your hips, and he pulls you against him.

Fully in the shower now, water falls down onto you, making your clothing cling to your body. You peel your shirt over your head, letting it hit the floor with a thud.

“You’re making this hard for me”

You tell him between kisses. San smirks on your lips, one of his hands unclasping your bra.

“I think I should be the one saying that”

His free hand guides one of your hands over the sopping towel draped on his waist, his stiffening cock hiding underneath.

Your fingers hook at the top, pulling it off him in a yanking motion. San slips a groan. His lips part from yours and he looks down at you, a cocky grin pulling his lips. San grabs your wrist, and with one swift motion, he turns you around, pushing you against the wall.

You moan softly, biting at your lip. San keeps your hand at your back, his body pressed against yours to keep you still. The wall is cold, despite the hot water pouring from the shower head. San pulls your skirt up over your behind, the tip of his cock poking against you.

San guides his cock between your legs, rubbing against your opening. You ball your fist behind your back, shifting your weight. Your pussy twitches at the teasing motion. San cranes his head to look at your face. Pleased with your response, he continues, letting his tip meet with your clit. You arch your back, sticking your ass back into him. For a moment, his cock slips inside you, but he pulls out quickly.

You whimper, hips moving to try and feel him back, San clicks his tongue.

“Papi”

You whimper again.

San breathes in deeply, his free hand wraps around your throat gently. His lips land on your neck leaving deep kisses. You close your eyes, breathing becoming heavy. San teases your opening again, pushing the tip of his cock inside you. You moan softly, back arching and moving him in a little further. San sighs a moan with you. He wraps his arm around you, holding your body on his, other hand still cradling your throat.

With a quick motion, San thrusts fully into you. You gasp at the shocking pleasure, legs becoming weak almost immediately. Your hands search for something to hold onto, but there isn’t anything. You place one hand on the wall, the other grasps hold onto Sans wrist. San groans in your ear every few thrusts he makes, his hand sneaking down to play with your clit.

Your nails dig into San’s skin. Your hips move on their own, riding his hand while his hard cock pushes inside you with ease. You hold your breath, walls tightening around San. You feel a shiver run up your spine when San pulls your head back to make you look at him. Both yours and his eyes are heavy with lust. Though, you can’t tell if it’s the lust or the steam of the shower making you feel hazy.

You kiss San deeply, your hand reaching around to rest on the back of his head. You softly moan against his lips, fingers playing with his hair. San’s hand presses against you, pulling your back into him. His hips grind against your ass, pushing you off balance some.

San pulls you back again, arm wrapped around your waist and other hand remaining on your neck. San’s warm, rigid chest presses against your back. Every piece, part, nook and cranny of your body tingles with overwhelming pleasure.

“San”

You mutter, heavy eyes barely staying open.

San’s lips touch against your ear lobe.

“Again”

“San”

Your moan a little louder this time.

You feel your legs getting weaker, shaking slightly. San nips your ear carefully, his nimble fingers tightening around your neck. He was gentle, despite his yearning for dominance. San thickens inside you hearing your heavy breaths and moans.

“Papi”

You breathe out shakily

Your body tenses in his hold. Your fingers slide over your clit, helping yourself reach an orgasm. Your knees buckle, slipping down a little before catching yourself. You whine an elongated groan; you came a lot quicker and harder than you had expected. You feel more than just water from the shower dripping onto your hand.

San curses between his own moans. His hand drops from your waist, over yours on your clit. His cock convulses against your contracting walls. He can’t help himself either. You don’t know if it’s the pent up emotion and tension, the sounds you were making, your orgasm, or a mix of everything; whatever it is, San cums shortly behind you.

He buries his face in your neck, rolling his hips slowly into your ass. Your body still feels sensitive, his movements making you jerk in his hold. You want to cum again. You slip your hand from under San’s placing his fingers directly onto your clit. You breathe in sharply.

“Make me cum, Papi”

His cock still twitches inside you as his fingers work. You let out a short loud gasp, slamming your hands to the shower wall. Your legs shake violently, making it hard for you to keep your stance.

“Please”

You whimper

San keeps his cock inside you, kisses your neck deeply and hold your waist tightly in hopes all these would increase your pleasure. Your breathing becomes irregular.

“Cum for Papi, baby”

San moans in your ear, fingers circling faster.

You fingers curl on the cool porcelain, nothing to hold onto. San slowly moves his cock out and back inside you. Your back arches, hips moving involuntarily. Your orgasm finally hits. You bite down hard on your lip, one of your hands pushing San’s hips back out of you.

Short yet uneven breaths enter and leave your lungs. You hang your head and try to stable yourself. The feeling lingers in your body, legs still weakening. Shaking. San holds your waist gently in his hands. He places gentle kisses on your shoulder and up to your neck.

You lean back onto him, eyes closed. San reaches for the tap, adjusting the water to a cooler temperature. He then grabs some soap, lathering it in his hands before helping you wash up.

#choi san smut #choi san fanfiction #au choi san #choi san angst #choi san x reader #san smut #san angst #kpop fanfic #kpop angst #au ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez angst #mdni #san fic #choi san fic #san x reader #what in the k drama #littleforeignaffairs

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