#It's beautiful it's disgusting it's the love of my life and I know how to confirm into it

[jungkookschin]

older part 3

think i need someone older, just a little bit colder, take the weight off your shoulders

synopsis: your friends say you're delusional for thinking you have a chance with jungkook, your parents' friends' son, but you just can't seem to let him go.

alternatively, you break jungkook's heart and jungkook enlists in the army to get over you--- but he can't just fuck off from your life forever; your lives are infinitely intertwined

word count: 21k

pairing: older!jk x afab reader

genre: age gap au (seven years), childhood acquaintance au, fluff, comedy, angsty, outta pocket, alludes to sexual innuendoes, there is a mention of jungkook shooting someone lol, non explicit smut, mentions of sex

OLDER MASTERLIST

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

When it comes to you, Jungkook’s window of tolerance extends towards the sun and the stars, to Jupiter and Saturn, if you will. For you, he’ll willingly undertake deeds he won’t even entertain for anyone else. 

Anything for you. Whenever and wherever. 

He will, in fact, swoop in and rescue you from a 2AM party (like the Prince Charming he is), even if it means disrupting his beauty sleep because as much as likes your friends, he doesn’t trust them to take you home safely, especially when alcohol is involved. Scratch that, he doesn’t really trust anybody to take you home besides himself. Even with work the next day, the appeal of sleep drowns when you’re drunkenly texting him from some frat mansion at who knows where. 

Approximately 10% of his biweekly earnings are devoted to you, his princess. He would never utter these sentiments aloud, yet he embraces them willingly, indulging in gestures of affection reserved solely for you.

He’s not afraid to wipe your tears, stick his fingers into your nose, or to touch any bodily fluid (given that it comes from you),  because it’s you and his being simply isn’t capable of conjuring feelings of disgust when it’s you. 

He sees you and he loves you, but a man can only take so much. 

“What?” you ask quietly, breathless, like the wind’s been knocked from your lungs. 

Jungkook exhales deeply, straightening his posture as he runs his hands across his face. “Y/N. Get out of my apartment. I’m serious.”

You think that this is the first time in the history of the world Jungkook has straight up told you to leave. 

“Why?” 

“Why?” Jungkook repeats, “What do you mean, why? You ignored me for four months straight. Thanks for spending the night, but you need to leave.”

Jungkook, just a man though he may be, is simply incapable to resist when you show up at his doorstep in the dead of the night- and even if he welcomes you into his home for the last time, he simply isn’t able to welcome you back into his heart. How could he willingly allow you to reclaim his heart’s residence after he’s worked so hard to expel you from its throne? 

Your blatant disregard for his presence spoke volumes; you didn’t care for him nor did you respect him. Jungkook isn’t going to fold simply because he finds you beautiful and perfect and amazing and everything he’s ever wanted. 

“So that’s all I am to you? A quick fuck?”

All the empathy he harbors disperses from his being like a passing breeze, ephemeral and elusive. Evidently, you’ve crossed the line. 

Jungkook blinks at you, his expression unreadable, while you inwardly recoil, immediately regretting your words. Jungkook won’t even entertain the notion. He knows you know how much you mean to him, and quite frankly, he’s appalled that you’re blatantly weaponizing something as pure as his love. 

“Y/N, I’m not going to see my family in a year, and you came to my place and made it all about yourself. You need to go,” Jungkook’s voice is firm and low, and he looks right at you, disappointment reflected in his pupils. 

“I didn’t mean to make it about myself. I just wanted to see you,” You try so desperately hard to rationalize, but he’s right; you weren’t thinking about him, you were thinking about yourself. 

“And by doing that, you made it about yourself-” Jungkook rubs his face with his palms, “Y/N. I don’t want to fight. Just go home.”

He hears a gentle sniffle escape you, and it elicits a heavy sigh from Jungkook. It's like a tug at his heartstrings, but he’s already beyond frustrated, and at this point, he wants to be alone. 

“Jungkook, I-I love you,” you whisper, “I’m sorry. If I’m better by the time you come back, will you give me a chance?”

As you raise your head, tears cascading down your cheeks, Jungkook's heart clenches at the sight. Jungkook hates seeing you cry, and it makes his heart physically ache, but there will be no appeal to his emotions. 

“Y/N- I mean- did you think I was gonna wait forever? You can’t treat a man like that and expect them to wait around forever.”

“But we had sex,” you counter, “The way you fucked me- I know you still love me- so please. I’ll be better. I’ll be better for you. Please,” you beg. 

Jungkook exhales softly, leaning into the support of the wall behind him. He remains stoic, neither affirming nor refuting your observation. He offers no gesture of consolation, no attempt to dry your tears. 

“Go home.”

If he doesn't want you there, then you’ll leave. Clumsily, you stand up from the bed, picking your clothes up from the ground before haphazardly slipping into them, leaving yourself vulnerable under Jungkook’s gaze. 

He doesn’t walk you out. 

You open the door and slam it closed before he can let another word out. 

-

Jungkook has always been a constant presence in your life, like the warmth of the sun on a chilly morning.

He’s very aware of the image you have of him in your cute little head, and he does everything he can to fulfill that image for you. He’s well aware of your little prince charming fantasies revolving around him, and truly, truly does everything to be your Prince Charming. 

He’ll indulge you, always- to the extent where Mingyu and Taehyung constantly throw the term “sugar daddy” around- and of course Jungkook will roll his eyes, but he won’t deny it. 

Jungkook has dropped thousands on you. He’s a single man in his 20’s with way too much money, anyways. So what was he supposed to do? Let all his money sit in his 401K to ensure that he’s financially secure for retirement (🙄) or buy you an unnecessarily expensive designer dress and observe how your face lights up?

Obviously, he’ll choose the latter. 

Simultaneously, that doesn’t mean you don’t make him feel the same way. This is so corny, but you’re kind of like the rainbow after a storm, bringing color back to his otherworldly, gloomy world.  

Jungkook’s not perfect. Despite what you think, he’s far from perfect. 

About half a year ago, he thought he hit rock bottom. And when he hit rock bottom, all he needed was you to remedy his mood.

There was an issue at work where he was accused of leaking confidential information to a competitor. The accusations were baseless, but the damage to his reputation was significant. It felt like his entire world was crumbling around him. He faced scrutiny from his colleagues and doubt from his superiors. 

After an excruciating meeting with the company lawyers, he drove back to his mom’s place- his mood as dark as the night enveloping his luxury car. All he wanted was his mommy. He was a 25 year old grown ass man, but all he wanted was his mommy. 

As he bursts through the front doors, the familiar scent of his mother's cooking greets his nostrils, wrapping him in a sense of comfort and the feeling of home. He heads towards the kitchen, until he walks into something… 

You yelp, rubbing your hand over your forehead. 

“Oh shit,” Jungkook mumbles, “My bad, baby. Didn’t see you” Jungkook says apologetically, placing his hands on your shoulders to stabilize you. His eyes glaze over your frame, and he smiles. 

You’re in boyshorts and a tank top. Typically of you to treat his parents’ place like it was your own; you’re family anyways. 

Jungkook whizzes past you, setting his work backpack on the kitchen counter. You follow him back into the kitchen, attending to the steak being grilled on the stovetop. You whirl around to face him, a mischievous smile spreading across your lips. 

“You look… handsome,” you finally say. 

Jungkook stares incredulously at you before he bursts into a smile at your anticss. “Oh really? You like me in business formal?” You clasp your palms behind your back and shift your weight between your ankles. “Maybe?” you sheepishly respond, in your typical girlish nature. 

Jungkook bites back a laugh, looking at you smugly. “Where’s mom?” 

You shrug, “She’s probably with her second boyfriend,” you teasingly muse, lips pouted out before you turn around to perceive his reaction. 

Jungkook scoffs at you amusedly before standing up to walk towards you. You smile sheepishly at him, not backing down when he practically towers over you. He pinches your cheek affectionately. “You’re cute, baby,” he jokes, and it makes your heart clench- not in a good way- because he means you’re cute… like a literal infant baby or a puppy, not a woman. 

“Did my mom call you over?” he asks, rummaging through the fridge. 

You nod, “Mm-hmm. She said she had to go run some errands so she wanted me to make you dinner,” you motion towards the steak sizzling in its pan. “Rare, just how you like it! Ta-da!”

He gazes at you with an affectionate smile. “Thanks. Did you drive here or do I need to drop you off?”

You make a pssh sound with your lips, dismissing the notion with a wave,  “I’ve been driving for like two years,” you state matter-a-factly, throwing up a gyaru sign because why not, “I can drive home just fine.”

“Alright, yea,” Jungkook acquiesces, putting his hands up, “You’re all grown up- I get it, I get it.”

“Good,” you respond, plating his steak before handing it to him, “But Jungkook, why are you back home? You usually don’t come home on work nights.”

Jungkook settles at the dining table, before he looks at you and sighs. You tilt your head, very cognizant of his body language. You’re in love with him, of course you can read all his nonverbal cues. 

“Just some shit at work,” he explains, “Has me stressed out of my mind.”

You pout, approaching him before you wrap and arm around his shoulder. The moment feels oddly intimate- like he’s returned to his two-story, middle-class home to his wife cooking up a home-made dinner, her touch everything he needs to bring him down from a stressful day at work. He swears he can even hear the kids crying from upstairs. 

“Wanna talk about it?” you beckon with your sweet voice. 

“Just been accused of some shit,” he mumbles, “Some illegal shit,” he adds, and you rest your head on his shoulder, making him freeze slightly and his chest tighten. 

“Don’t worry,” you sweetly comfort, “The truth will always be revealed, and you’ll be cleared eventually. And besides, you’re young, rich, and hot. As long as you know who you are, you don’t need to worry about others.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow slightly before he relaxes his expression. What a juvenile, yet straightforward outlook on life. So simple, yet so… brilliant?

Jungkook knows that you’re more than capable of understanding the complex intricacies of the professional world, but he finds solace in its simplicity as a counterbalance to his excruciating overthinking. 

He sighs blissfully, turning towards you. “Give me a hug, baby. I need a hug.”

You nod sweetly and wrap your arms around him. “Of course. Call me any time if you want a hug.”

-

You coming on to him the night before enlistment was his last opportunity to indulge in you, and he’s only just a man-  a weak, weak man, so it’s simply in his nature to succumb to your allure. 

Jungkook is now bald, devoid of any hair. Gone with his hair is his sense of confidence. Staring   at his reflection, he runs a hand over his bald head, his mood becoming despondent. 

One hour ago, you slammed his front door, scurrying down the stairs with tears cascading down your cheeks. Jungkook doesn’t like seeing you cry; he hates seeing you cry- but it’s time to let go and live.

The most daunting aspect of dating with an age-gap is the maturity discrepancy. Like two ships sailing different seas, Jungkook has sailed through weathered storms while your sail catches the wind of youthful possibility. 

This discrepancy manifests through communication styles, lifestyle choices, and most importantly, love languages. 

You would never, ever do anything to hurt him purposely- but you did.

Nonetheless, what was Jungkook supposed to expect? Undeniably, he loves you with everything in him but was he supposed to expect you to handle things with the maturity of someone his age?

He should’ve known, and for that, he feels dumb. 

Feels dumb and like an idiot because you used to cartwheel in his room trying to get his attention. Feels dumb because when you were 11, he was already 18– like, what the fuck is that age gap? 

What was he supposed to expect? You lost both of your parents at the same time when you were 20 years old. You’re traumatized, you’re young, and he kinda feels like he took advantage of your juvenile feelings for him- but no, a love like his is pure, and he wants nothing but the best for you, which is why he’s going to let go. 

The wind from a slightly ajar window brushes, spreading the hair around the floor and suddenly glitter comes to mind. 

Glitter. Sparkles. Fairy Dust. 

When you were a senior in high school, Jungkook bought you a prom dress. Your bum ass boyfriend (or situationship- he doesn’t know. He wants to burn the memory of all men who you’ve been with before him) didn’t even want to go to prom with you, and Jungkook, as the great “mom’s friend’s son” he was, offered to buy you a dress- no budget. 

-

Jungkook dropped by your place to drop off some sticky rice, as instructed by his mother; he was a good and obedient son. He knew your parents were at Zumba, so he sent you a quick text in advance. You always responded to his texts immediately, promptly, instantly, right away, and without delay. 

You can only imagine Jungkook’s apprehension when it’s been thirty minutes and you still haven’t come to the door. 

Normally, Jungkook would have been annoyed to wait this long for you, but he’s actually concerned– because what if you were lying dead in a ditch somewhere? Okay, maybe he shouldn’t go to such extremes, but you were undeniably a gorgeous girl, recently 18, and he knew that so many men had their eyes on you. 

Not him, though. He was a gentleman. 

Jungkook swings open the door of his car, swiftly walking towards your front door. On cue, the outer door swings open, and you’re standing apprehensively, struggling to unlock the screen door because the fucking lock always gets jammed. The lock just won’t budge and after a good second of trying, you bang your fist against the door, yelling a very non-intimidating “Fuck!”

Jungkook smiles, “Twist the door knob, then try the lock,” he gently instructs. You oblige, and the screen door swings open. 

“I’ll come back tomorrow to fix that,” he adds before walking towards your kitchen to place the sticky rice into the fridge. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, taking a seat at the dining table. 

Jungkook glances back at you from the fridge, “Why’d you cry?”

The question is asked with a subtle casualty, and that makes you want to actually go curl into a ditch and die. 

To Jungkook, it was painfully obvious. He’s known you since forever and has all your mannerisms ingrained into his mind like a tattoo. Usually, when you wake up, you’re quite lethargic, stumbling around with your eyes half cracked open- but right now, you’re cognizant as ever. 

Furthermore, when you cry, your eyes usually swell up- more so than the average person. After you cry, it’s like your eyes turned into little, red, puffy balls with slits for seeing.  And Jungkook had eyes, superb vision, actually, and he could clearly see that your eyes were in fact, swollen. 

“t’s nothing,” you mumble, “It’s stupid.”

Jungkook purses his lips, contemplating whether he should push further. Your big mouth keeps going before he can get a word out. 

“Well, if I tell you, promise not to judge me?” you ask, sticking out your pinky finger. 

Jungkook locks the promise in. “Never,” he breathes. 

“Well… it’s just… you know…”

Jungkook raises a brow. 

“I just… I hate my boobs.”

Jungkook blinks at you, and you blink at him. 

“You said you weren’t going to judge me!” 

Jungkook is absolutely flabbergasted. “I just- wait-” he pauses, putting his hands up, “What’s wrong with your boobs? They look normal to me.”

Your features contort into petulance, and you pout. Immediately, you rise, wiping the dust off your shorts before you divulge into the full story. Jungkook can only sit there and listen. 

 “Okay, listen. Let me start from the beginning,” you start, pacing around, “So I ordered two prom dresses,” you explain, making a peace sign with your hands. 

“And they looked so good on the models, but they look horrible on me! Because my boobs are so small and my body looks imbalanced! So I cried about it. I just wanted to feel pretty…. Do you think my parents will be mad at me if I get my tits done?”

Jungkook blinks at you. At the time, he hadn’t a clue of how to respond, but oh how he grew to love your boobs. In fact, he currently wishes that they were swinging in his face. 

“Y/N, don’t get a boob job,” is the first thing he says. 

What else could he say? He couldn’t tell you that he thinks your body is perfect, or that you’d look stunning in any dress you wear- he did not want to creep you out. “Lemme see you try the dresses,” he offers, “You’re probably in your head- it can’t be that bad.”

“I’m 18,” you counter, “It’s completely legal for me to get a boob job. I don’t even want D’s! I think I would be okay with B’s. In fact, all I need to do is sell a couple feet pictures and I’d have enough to finance my boob job-”

“Y/N. Just try on the dress.”

“Fine,” you huff, puffing up the stairs. 

A few moments later, you reappear, and Jungkook almost chokes on his own saliva. The dress you're wearing captures his attention entirely.  Its fabric shimmers under the kitchen light, a juxtaposition against the bland interior, cascading in gentle folds as it hugs your curves delicately. With each step, the skirt sways gently, whispering secrets of a night yet to unfold.

Gorgeous. Stunning. Most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and he recalls the pang of guilt that washed over him, because you’re seven years younger, and it feels wrong, incongruous. 

Fortunately for him, Jungkook is great at hiding his emotions, so even a slightly suspicious clearing of the throat does nothing to phase you. 

You pause, blinking at him, and he blinks back at you. 

“I told you it was bad!-”

“Wait, no. Stop. It’s not bad…” Jungkook offers. 

You blink at each other again. 

“Oh, you fucking liar!” you scoff.

“What?” Jungkook retorts, features morphing into confusion, “Why would I lie? I always just say whatever I want to say.“

You groan, plopping onto the dining room table with your arms crossed. “You don’t know anything about prom dresses,” you mutter. 

This marked the first time Jungkook perceived you as a woman. He spent a year suppressing it all because of the guilt, but it became inevitable. It bubbled up and exploded; he couldn’t contain it anymore. 

“Well…” he started, every so carefully pulling his wallet from his pocket, using two fingers to take out his credit card, “Would it make you feel better if I bought you another one? One more suitable for… flatter chests?”

You gasped like you’d never breathed air before, jumping to your feet, “Really? Would you really do that?!”

Jungkook shrugged casually, did everything to mask his thunderous heartbeat banging in his chest, “Yea, why not? I have money.”

At that, you squealed, jumping on both feet before you absolutely enveloped him in a hug. 

Still staring at his reflection, Jungkook returns to Earth. You’re so childish and dumb, but he can’t help that he’s deeply enamored with you, and because of that, he’s going to go to the military and pretend like he never existed in the first place.  

-

In the first few weeks at the military, Jungkook finds the distance more excruciating than he had when you ignored him. He enlisted in the first place to get his mind off you, to learn to live without you, but you’re the only person on his mind. 

It certainly doesn’t help that he’s carrying a locket bearing your image, but he can’t bring himself to throw it out. He doesn’t even know why he has it in the first place, or why he had it custom made; he feels obsessive but whenever Jungkook’s on his last lap, his last pushup, or his last pullup, you’re the thought to propel him forward. 

The military barracks are cold, dusty, and lonely. Sometimes, he can’t sleep, and on those restless nights, he finds himself reaching for the locket. Staring at the image of you smiling back at him, it’s like a tangible reminder of something he can’t quite explain. 

He holds the locket in his hand, tracing the edges with its fingertips. He remembers your touch, your warmth, the way your hand fits perfectly in his.

True loser behavior. 

You ignored him for fucking months, didn’t care how he was doing, or if he were laying dead in a ditch, yet he still loves you, still clings onto you. If he didn’t enlist, he probably would’ve ran back to you the moment you showed up at his place. 

If anything, you’re not the type of girl who should be in a locket. You’re immature, childish, and rude, but he holds the locket close to his heart, because quite frankly, he hears how the men in the military speak about women, and he would never ever subject you to that. 

Some guys hang up cute pictures and polaroids of their girlfriends on the bunks, which would almost immediately be thrown into the trash because of the insane comments from the (obviously single) guys. 

Jungkook deems running as the most arduous drill in boot camp. 

Jungkook can do three or five miles easily, but twelve miles with gear on? Absolutely not. What makes it worse is when the other guys try to make small talk- wasn’t running excruciating enough?

Even on the eighth mile, Jungkook clutches the locket tightly in his grasp. The sensation burning in his abs is borderline excruciating, and he opens the locket to glimpse at your image 

James, the absolute deviant of the 8th squad, approaches Jungkook from the rear. “Who’s that, Jeon?” James asks. 

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut; this is the last thing he wanted. He says nothing, slightly accelerating in speed.

As James draws nearer, his tone dripping with mockery, Jungkook's muscles tense with apprehension. 

"Come on, Jeon, spill it," James prods, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Who's the lucky lady in the locket?"

Jungkook's jaw clenches, his grip on the locket tightening. He knows the implications of revealing your identity in this environment, where vulnerability is exploited and secrets are ammunition.

"Just keep running," Jungkook retorts, his voice strained with suppressed frustration. Running 12 miles with 50 pounds of gear was already hell, why was he trying to pick a fight? 

But James persists, matching Jungkook's stride with unsettling ease. "Oh, come on, Jeon, don't be shy," he taunts, edging closer. "Is she the reason you're always off in your own world during training?"

A surge of anger pulses through Jungkook's veins, his resolve fraying under James's relentless scrutiny. He fights to keep his emotions in check, knowing that any sign of weakness could be exploited.

With a steely gaze, Jungkook halts abruptly, turning to face James with a glare. "Back off, James," he warns, his voice laced with a dangerous edge, before he returns to his usual stride. 

James's grin widens, sensing Jungkook's vulnerability. "Someone’s sensitive,” James teases, “Scared your girl’s with the mailman right now?”

Jungkook’s features harden, and he continues onto the ninth mile. His feet ache, and the mud is starting to seep into his socks. Jungkook opens his mouth to say something, but he’s cut off by Wooseok, who comes to his defense. 

Wooseok bumps shoulder with James from behind. “Chill, James. He’s got her in a locket. Better not mess with that.”

-

Jungkook hates to admit it, but James got to his head. 

Jungkook knows he’s the one who let you go, and that there’s no winning in this situation, but he’s selfish and the thought of you with another man makes him physically ill. Had it been any other girl, he would immediately lose interest the moment he discovered she was messing around with others- but the thought of you with someone else physically hurts. 

He doesn’t have much access to his phone, and there’s nothing to take his mind off it. 

There’s that taboo story about men in the military getting cheated on. It's a tale as old as time. 

The fear of infidelity hangs over these soldiers constantly- but you’re not even his girlfriend. 

So if you were to move on, there wouldn’t be a thing wrong with that. 

Isn’t that what he wanted? For you to find happiness with someone your own age? Someone you would love, not just be infatuated with. 

But fuck, why does it makes his heart swell? The thought of another man seeing you, feeling you, and touching you the way he has, the way he should be, makes him ill. 

-

You know you said you were going to change, and you’re really, really trying. It’s been one month since your last encounter with Jungkook and you think things are taking an upward trajectory. 

For one, you’ve started your internship with the local bank, and you’re making a lot of money (to your standards), definitely not a lot to someone like Jungkook, but it’s good enough for you. Since summer hit, you’ve retaken some of the classes you failed, and your GPA has now returned to the 3.0 range. 

However, that doesn’t mean that your obsession with Jungkook has dwindled in the slightest. You’re childish in a sense, and you’re kind of taking advantage of your relationship with his parents to see what he’s up to at all times. 

You’re snooping over Jungkook’s mother’s shoulder like the nosy girl you are, and you scandalously gasp at Jungkook’s text. 

“Haha yea, Y/N looks pretty” is probably the most disingenuous thing he’s ever said about you.   

Like sure, whatever, he’s calling you pretty but he’s only saying it because his mom asked him whether he thinks you’re pretty in the first place. 

Your eyes continue skimming down the phone and you see something that makes your jaw drop to your ass

Jungkook’s mother shuts her phone off and squeals. “Oh Y/N! I can’t wait for Jungkookie to get married! I want grandbabies already, she pouts. 

It’s like a punch to the gut. The thought of another girl walking down the aisle to marry Jungkook makes you sick to your stomach. It makes you so jealous you can’t fathom it. It's a visceral reaction, a knot tightening in your stomach as jealousy courses through your veins, clouding your thoughts and stirring emotions you never knew existed.

Every detail of the imagined scene plays out in your mind like a cruel movie reel, tormenting you with the painful reality of what could be. 

With a forced smile, you manage to utter, "That's great, Mrs. Jeon. I'm sure Jungkook will make a wonderful husband one day."

-

Jungkook’s friends, in fact, do not hate you.

Actually, they’re quite nice and understanding of the situation at hand. Maybe it’s the fact that you shoved meat down their throats before explaining how you actually felt, or because you were somewhat valid in your decision to not acknowledge Jungkook’s existence for four months. 

“He’s probably not mad at you,” Mingyu reasons, toying with the hem of his beanie before shoving a piece of beef into his mouth, “I don’t think he has the capacity to be angry at-”

Taehyung furrows his brows and Mingyu continues his sentiment, “at Y/N,” Mingyu clarifies, “He’d never be mad at Y/N.”

You sigh, using your chopsticks to flip some meat over, “He kicked me out of his apartment,” you express. 

“No,” Taehyung contests, “You chose to move out, didn’t you?”

You chew on your lip apprehensively, suddenly finding the need to rake your fingers through your hair, “Yea, but I spent the night before he enlisted and he kicked me out in the morning.”

Taehyung pauses, exchanging glances with Mingyu. “By spend the night, you mean…?”

“Yes, I mean,” you confirm, “I just don’t want him to hate me. I know I fucked up, but I would never do anything to hurt him on purpose. I mean- not to use it as an excuse- but my parents’ suddenly died in a fucking car accident? Am I supposed to be normal after that? I didn’t mean to hurt him, I just couldn’t at the time, and I’m not sure if I can, at all.”

Mingyu purses his lips, “I just think he- you know- was super heartbroken. Y/N, Jungkook really loves you, and by love I mean that you’re probably the only girl he will ever love. He probably just needed time to process everything too,” he says gently, reaching out to give your hand a brotherly squeeze. 

“You made him cry,” Taehyung asserts, and you pause. 

“Seriously?”

Taehyung’s lips form into a straight line and he shrugs, “You made him cry. Showed up at my place in the middle of the night drunk and in tears over you.”

At that, you sink into the leather seat. Cry? You’ve known Jungkook since you were born and you’ve never seen him cry before. 

You bang your head against the table- a little too hard- and you yelp in pain , clutching your forehead. Mingyu immediately whisks closer to you, gently removing your hand and scrutinizing the mark on your forehead. 

You’re suddenly reminded of something Soobin said to you a couple weeks ago. Something about Jungkook’s friends are just as brotherly as Jungkook, always going the extra mile to take care of you, and suddenly you feel bad. 

You groan, “Guys I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for things to get so messy. I’m sorry you have to deal with all of this- but I really care about Jungkook, I really do.”

Taehyung’s grumpy face finally relaxes, “We know you do, Y/N. No one is mad at you- trust me. But you have to make up your mind: do you want him or not? You can’t be wishy washy about this- Jungkook’s a lot older than you. He can’t waste his whole life waiting on you-”

“I want him,” you immediately declare, “I want him, and I’m ready to give everything to show that I love him.”

Mingyu smiles at you, “Well tell him that, not us.”

Your cheeks turn slightly pink. “Yea. I might.”

The rest of the night continues with ease. Mingyu and Taehyung ask you about school, give you professional advice for the future, and at the end of the night you reach over the table to give your card to the waitress, but Taehyung physically holds you back, and Mingyu gives his card to the waiter. 

You’re truly so loved.

-

Things change and people change. 

The first time Jungkook gets leave from the military is for the memorial service for your parents. 

You’ve put the memorial service off for about a year. As their only daughter and remaining heir of your parents, the decision of when and where to hold the memorial service rested solely with you. 

Yet, you just couldn’t bring yourself to go through with it, especially with Jungkook in the military. 

Like the blossoming of spring, a year has passed, and at 21, you've graduated college, content yet eager for new beginnings.

When Jungkook's mother called you, brimming with excitement, inviting you to join in picking him up from the enlistment site, you couldn't find it in your heart to decline. Even when Jungkook kicked you from his apartment, you and he both knew that you couldn’t just fuck off from his life entirely. 

Since birth, Jungkook has always been there. His parents, who are practically your aunt and uncle, have nurtured and cared for you since forever. You've shared in every significant milestone of his life, from graduations and birthdays, and when he gets married, you know you’ll be there, even if it tears you apart. 

Your lives would be forever intertwined.  

Had you changed since that night at his apartment? Kinda? Not really.  

You've moved out from the mansion shared with friends to your own space. With a “lucrative” five-figure job, late-night parties and raves are a thing of the past. You’re all for early morning runs and late night reading. 

With the anticipation of seeing Jungkook for the first time since that day, you find yourself more fixated on your outfit than you’ve ever been in your life. More so than prom, more so than Coachella, and more so than graduation. 

Jungkook has only ever seen you in hoodies and sweats, a crop top and ripped jeans, or the occasional mini bodycon dress- you don’t think he’s ever seen you in business casual. You wear a chic satin blouse with jeans and closed toed heels. 

Jungkook’s parents don’t really like to drive, so of course, you’re driving Jungkook’s Mercedes, (he so carefully left in the care of his parents), to the enlistment sight, which you’re sure he’ll be absolutely thrilled to see. He never let you drive his car out of the parking lot. 

As you slide into the driver’s seat of the car, a wave of anxiety washes over you. This is the first time you would see him in an entire year- the longest you’ve been apart. What would he look like? Does he still have feelings for you? Is he still upset with you? Has he completely forgotten about you? 

With a soft click, the engine hums to life, and you follow the GPS through the streets towards the enlistment sight. Jungkook’s parents sit in the back, occasionally passing you trail mix and bananas. 

You pull up to the enlistment sight, waiting anxiously with your arms crossed amongst the crowds of people. 

Jungkook emerges from the crowd in his military uniform, and your heart swells with pride and sorrow. He looks so handsome. He looks bigger, stronger, more rugged. You’ve seen celebrities and models in person before and they could never compare.  You step to the side as he greets his parents, and when he turns his head, he locks eyes with you. 

It’s like the world stops revolving. 

It’s been a year since you’ve seen him and he never ever fails to make you feel this way. He’s made you feel this way since you were 15 and the feeling never dissipated, only amplified.  

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you swallow. 

Jungkook doesn’t look at you in any type of way. His eyes scan over you and he sends you a genuine smile. “Hey Y/N,” he offers, opening his arms for a hug. You hug him from the side, reciprocating his polite smile. “Hi Jungkook. You look nice.”

“You look pretty,” he offers before turning towards his parents and casually taking the keys from your hand. 

“Should we go now?”

Jungkook drives all the way home, with you in the passenger seat. You don’t say much. You find yourself simply listening as Jungkook shares with his parents what life in the military is like.

It was expected from everyone that Jungkook would do well in the army. When he was 15 years old, a personal trainer told him that he’d bulk up in muscle from just lifting a spoon. 

After reaching home,  Jungkook’s parents suggest you show him around your new place, and neither of you really have a choice but to oblige. 

The moment Jungkook’s parents are dropped off at his place, an awkward silence absolutely encapsulates the inside of that Mercedes. You don’t say anything; you just lean your head on the window, looking outside the city where you and Jungkook have been for your entire life. 

Jungkook says nothing either, tapping his fingers against the drivers’ wheel. 

Finally, he speaks up. “Sorry I couldn’t make it to your graduation.”

“It’s fine,” you mumble in response, “You’re busy.”

“Yea.”

More silence overwhelms the car. 

“So what did you do with your parents’ house?” he asks, flickering his eyes towards you. You push yourself further against the seat. 

“AirBnb,” is all you can conjure. 

Your parents were loaded and left you with a plethora of assets. The house, for one, is your second stream of income. You locked off yours and your parents’ room, and cleaned up the rest of the house for it to be rented out.

“Smart,” he offers. 

“Thanks.”

He hums in response, tapping his fingers against the wheel. Instinctively, his hands reach towards the radio, turning the Bluetooth on, which of course is already connected to your phone. 

Everytime by Ariana Grande blares through the radio, making you temporarily freeze. 

I get weak and fall like a teenager

Why, oh, why does God keep bringing me back to you?

I get drunk, pretend that I’m over it

Self-destruct, show up like an idiot

Why, oh, why does God keep bringing me back to you? 

I go back to you, back to you, back to you

Back to you, back to you, back to you

I go back to you, back to you, back to you, every time

You’ve had enough. You turn the radio off and roll the window down, your head peeking through from the outside while you let the wind blow against your face. 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything either, just continues following the GPS to your apartment. 

-

After what seems like forever, he eventually reaches the security gate. "4832," you mention, prompting him to enter the number and which opens the security gate.

“It’s good you live in a gated community,” he comments, “it’s safer that way.”

“Yea,” you agree, not really sure what else 

You and Jungkook take the elevator to your place, and you punch the code in before letting Jungkook in. 

Jungkook thinks your place is so you. It smells sweet, like vanilla. There’s a white, fluffy couch in front of the TV with stacks of Rilakkuma plushies. Your kitchen is clean, well organized; he sees a heart shaped bowl in the middle of the dining room table. Framed photos adorn the shelves: some of you with your parents, your friends, and one with him and his family from Jungkook’s college graduation. 

You rub your palms on your jeans. “So, what do you think?”

“Nice,” he responds, “I’m proud of you.”

You purse your lips and nod. “Thanks… I have a room prepared for you– but is there anything you want to do tonight? Mingyu and Tae can come over, if you’d like.”

Jungkook toys with his lower lip before he tilts his head. It slightly bothers him that his friends have been over at yours, and that you mention it so casually- but of course, he doesn’t mention it. 

“No, it’s cool,” he responds, “You look tired. You had to drive a while to get me,” he offers. 

“No, no,” you shake your head, “It’s fine. Not a big deal…. You look strong.”

Jungkook smiles, “Yea. Military drills and stuff,” he rests a hand on the kitchen counter and leans against it. 

His eyes flicker towards you, looking you up and down. You gulp.

“I missed you,” you finally say, “... and I bought you something.”

Jungkook raises a brow, watching you daintily step into your room to pull out a small black box. You hand it to him, and he delicately opens it. A golden chain. 

“I don’t know,” you murmur, “I see lots of military guys wearing chains and I thought you’d like one too,” you offer, shifting your weight between your ankles. 

“Thanks,” Jungkook says, “Probably the first time you’ve ever gotten me a gift,” he jokes, to which you playfully roll your eyes. “I’ll wear it when I get back to camp.”

You nod, rising on your tippy toes a bit. “And I’m sorry. For last time… y’know.”

Jungkook's expression crumbles. He licks his lips, “It’s okay. I should have been more understanding. You were going through a lot,” he whispers. 

You nod. “I know. But I should have communicated more so I’m sorry. Just so you  know, I’m still…” 

What should you say? I’m still in love with you? I still think about you every day? I’m nothing without you?

Jungkook’s features soften, and you bite your lip. 

"I'm still... here," you murmur, the words carrying the weight of your emotions as you struggle to articulate the depth of your feelings.

Jungkook's expression softens, a gentle understanding dawning in his eyes as he nods in acknowledgment. “I’ll always be here too,” is all he says. 

Again, silence overwhelms the room.

 “Right… well, my head hurts a little so I’m going to lie down for a bit. Wake me up if you need anything.”

Jungkook tilts his head, approaching you before he presses the back of his palm against your forehead. “You’re burning up,” he murmurs, and you swat his hand away. 

“It’s fine. Just nervous about tomorrow,” you murmur. 

“I’ll call Yeonjun.”

-

You didn’t expect him to offer to take care of you, cater to your every whim. You really didn’t. 

However, straight-up leaving a moment later most definitely caught you off guard. Deep down, you had hoped for a gesture of consideration, like offering to pick up medicine from Walgreens or Walmart, or something. 

In that instant, memories flood back of how he cared for you after your parents died. He was so attentive, so sweet. He home cooked you breakfast, meal prepped lunch, and ordered you take out in the evening. You were so out of it, too weak to even function and Jungkook catered to everything you needed.

It’s almost ironic that he zoomed from your apartment the moment he discovered you were ill. You shrug. There's no need to dwell on it or feel upset. It was odd that his parents suggested he spend the night with you. He should be with his parents anyways. 

Even though you prepared a room for him, Jungkook goes back to his parents that night, and Yeonjun to yours. 

Yeonjun is one of your best friends in the entire world, really, so you’re sorry that you’re treating him like this. 

“Yeonjun, if we’re both single at 30, wanna get married?” You plead from the couch, your head resting on the arm and your feet dangling above the backseat. 

Yeonjun graces you with the most disgusted look you’ve ever seen in your life. Yet, he still drapes a blanket over your frame, placing a wet cloth on your forehead. He doesn’t even entertain the notion. 

“Maybe go back to Sunghoon. He’d seem desperate enough to give you another chance,” Yeonjun murmurs, resting on the opposing side of the couch with his arms crossed. 

You pout, before bursting into laughter. You roll from the couch and land on the floor with a thud. Yeonjun joins you, sitting criss-cross applesauce across from you. He wipes a stray hair from your cheek, a cup of Buldak seemingly materializing in his hands. Seriously. Where’d he get that from?

“Y/N, that man does not want you,” Yeonjun states matter-a-factly, his demeanor solemn, a juxtaposition to the goofy red sauce stained around his lips. 

And you can’t believe it, but you actually find it in you to giggle at that. Teetering back and forth from where you’re sitting, you sputter out a clumsy “Seems like I’m getting deja vu. How many times in your life have you told me that?”

“Millions,” Yeonjun shrugs, stuffing his face with ramen. 

“But you were wrong,” you muse, “I did have a chance with him. He said he was in love with me.”

“Yea,” Yeonjun agrees, before tilting his head, “but you fumbled.”

“I fumbled,” you concur.

“You traumatized that man. He does not want your musty ass,” Yeonjun teases, flicking your forehead with his vacant hand. 

“He does not want my musty ass,” you concur once again, a teasing smile spreading across your lips, before bursting into a fit of giggles. 

Observing you, Yeonjun cracks a smile. “I’m glad you’re not being a crybaby about it anymore,” he comments, “FIrst loves are first loves,” he shrugs, “They say your second love is actually your true first love because they make you realize you weren’t actually in love with your first love.”

“Maybe,” you add, staring up at the ceiling fan swirling in circles and circles and circles- and it makes you dizzy. You squeeze your eyes shut. “Who would that even be?,” you ponder aloud, “Sunghoon is cute, but he doesn’t like me anymore.”

“Well, you can ask them, because I invited them over,” Yeonjun adds, suddenly locking eyes with you. You take a moment to process what he just said. 

“What?-”

On cue, the doorbell rings, and Yeonjuns stands up, waltzing to get the door like he’s the owner of the damn apartment. 

You scramble to your feet as Yeonjun swings open the door with a swish. 

Heeseung and Sunghoon flood in, a teddy bear in Heeseung’s hands and a pot in Sunghoon’s. 

Heeseung looks you up and down, sticking the teddy bear in your face. “Heard you were sick,” he says plainly, soliciting you to just blink at him. 

Sunghoon scoffs from the side, “Yea Heeseung, just go add it to the stack of a hundred plushies she already has,” motioning towards your living room that indeed has a stack of Sanrio and Rilakkuma plushies in the corner. 

You snort, snatching the teddy bear from his grimy little fingers. “Thanks… asshole.”

Sunghoon rummages through the fridge, placing his little pot in and taking a box of apple juice out. “I brought you dumpling soup. Just put it on the stove when you’re ready,” he instructs. 

Heeseung joins Yeonjun in the living room, letting out a low whistle. “You have a pretty nice place, Y/N. Don’t miss living with us at all?”

You huff, stomping over towards Heeseung before pointing your finger in his face. “You slept with someone in my room!” you accuse, “No, I do not miss living with you!”

Heeseung puts his hands up, “Hey, I already apologized! That was in the past. I’m a born-again virgin now,” he continues. 

You blink, exchanging a glance with Yeonjun before returning your gaze to Heeseung. The words leave you speechless, leaving you with nothing to say in response.

Nonetheless, you bend down to give him a hug, maneuvering to lie down on his thigh while you stare at the ceiling. “I have a fever guys,” you mumble, “Can’t have our entire university here bothering me and shit,” you joke, swatting their air like the boys are a bunch of pesky flies. 

“Please,” Heeseung teases, “You’ll start crying the moment we leave.”

“Maybe,” slips from your mouth, and you run your hands over your face. 

“What happened with Jungkook?” Sunghoon adds, a cup of Buldak ramen somehow also materializing in his hands. These boys are really raiding your ramen stash. 

“Y/N fumbled,” Yeonjun answers for you, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. 

Heeseung puts a hand on your forehead. “Holy shit Y/N! You really are burning up… are fevers contagious?”

“How gentlemanly of you,” you murmur. 

“Wait, let me feel,” Sunghoon intervenes, pressing one hand against your forehead and the other against his. He gauges it for a moment. At that moment, you do recall that Sunghoon’s dad is a doctor, and he might have some magical prognosis for the situation at hand. 

“Yea, you have a fever,” Sunghoon confirms. 

You and Heeseung roll your eyes in unison. 

“But what happened with Jungkook?” Sunghoon questions, settling back into his spot on the floor. 

“I fumbled,” you respond, using Yeonjun’s words exactly. “But it’s fine. It’s whatever. I have a memorial service to worry about tomorrow,” you mutter. 

At that, a solemn silence washes over the room. It doesn’t make you feel any type of way. You wouldn’t know what to say to a girl who lost both of her parents either. 

“You also fumbled Sunghoon,” Heeseung jokes, immediately easing the atmosphere and eliciting an Oh c’mon from Sunghoon and laughter from you and Yeonjun. 

Genuinely, you found that funny. 

You feel complete and content. 

-

Throughout the night, the three boys took turns tending to you, diligently replacing the ice pack on your forehead. It was crucial for your fever to break, knowing that the following day was your parents’ memorial service (the reason why Jungkook is even back in town). Yeonjun, Heeseung, and Sunghoon ran home to change into proper attire, promising you that they’d get back to you as soon as possible. 

Drifting in, adorned in a long black skirt and a matching blouse, a black ribbon delicately tied into your hair in a half-up, half-down style, you arrive at the memorial service site several hours ahead of schedule- to grant yourself the necessary time for mental preparation and to ensure the arrangements have been made. 

Sitting alone in the parking lot, the floodgates of your own emotions explode, and you drown in your own feelings. Since Jungkook's enlistment, you've buried yourself in work- barely finding time to arrange everything for the upcoming service. 

You realize you haven’t even taken a moment to process how you truly feel about everything. 

You’re only 21 years old. This fucking sucks. 

You ache for the warmth of your parents' embrace, desperately missing the solace only your mother could provide. In moments like these,  you find yourself longing for her gentle hug, her soothing words, and her infinite love. 

You feel tears well in your waterline, and you immediately wipe them with your sleeve. 

You had to be strong for your parents. 

They never liked seeing you cry, always told you to be strong.

With a deep inhale, you swing open the door and stride into the memorial service center, ready to attend to the necessary preparations.

The moment you step into the building, your eyes lock onto Jungkook. 

Adorned in a somber black suit with his hands tucked into his pockets, he paces anxiously, his presence immediately drawing your attention.

This isn’t the time; it really isn’t, but he’s perfect. He’s so handsome, even without his hair, even when he doesn’t talk to you, even when you don’t see him. 

When he senses your presence, he immediately turns towards you. 

“Y/N.”

“Jungkook. Thanks for being here,” you say, pulling him in for another side hug. 

“Yea, of course,” he mumbles, “You feeling better?” 

You nod, “Yea ‘m good. My fever broke…  did the guy say anything?” ou inquire, swiftly diverting the conversation. 

Jungkook appears slightly taken aback, but he responds, "Yeah. Good. They have everything set up. They just need the portrait of Auntie and Uncle."

Dangling your keys in front of him, you continue, "They're in the trunk. Can you get them? I have to- I have to use the restroom." Jungkook studies your face for a moment before nodding in understanding. "Yeah, totally."

"Thanks," you mumble before darting into the restroom.

Obviously, you’re on the verge of tears and he could palpably feel and see that. Once inside the stall, the floodgates burst open. The despondency of everything absolutely devours you and you feel so pitiful, so sad that you’re in this situation, and that your parents are gone– forever.

 Your parents are gone. You think Jungkook is gone. You have nobody. You’re alone. The family that you grew up with… it would never be the same. 

After a moment of letting your emotions flow, you take a deep breath and wipe your eyes. You had anticipated this moment, knowing that you would inevitably end up crying like a little baby, so you had opted for a bare face today.

You leave the restroom, hanging your head, and when you look up, you lock eyes with Jungkook. 

With furrowed brows, his eyes sweep over your puffy ones, noticing the glossy scleras and the tears welling up once again. Staring at him, you feel pathetic, and you let out a quiet sob before burying your face into your hands. 

And suddenly, you feel him. 

Like the comfort of the gentle breeze on a Spring day, Jungkook envelops you with his strong arms, and suddenly everything’s okay. He holds you and it’s reminiscent of all the times he’s cared for you, doted on you, and expressed his love for you. He soothingly runs his hand up and down your back, pressing you against the wall and away from the eyes of bystanders. 

You remain still, sniffling and drying your eyes, overwhelmed before pulling away. Jungkook runs a hand over your hair, eyes glazing over your face. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t need to. 

The way he looks at you is enough. It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay. 

The beauty of your relationship with Jungkook is that in itself. It would be alright. Everything would be alright so long as he’s there- even just as a friend. 

To love someone is to love from afar. To love someone is to love without reciprocation. You love Jungkook and he loves you. Some people are so filled with hatred and resentment- the ability to even love after all you’ve been through is astounding in itself.

Your love for Jungkook is a powerful thing.  It would carry you far, and to simply possess the ability to love is far more significant than being in a relationship with him. 

“Y/N!” On cue, Yeonjun makes his appearance in the lobby, tilting his head when he sees you and Jungkook standing closely together by the hallway. 

Jungkook motions towards Yeonjun, and you nod, not before you stand on your tiptoes to give him another hug– not a side hug, but a real hug. “Thank you,” you whisper against his neck before you skip towards Yeonjun and your other friends. 

-

The memorial service begins and ends with reverence. 

Surrounded by your family and friends, you begin to feel overwhelmed by your sense of community. 

The service room is reminiscent of that of a church. You sit on the front row, Yeonjun on one side and Yunjin on the other. Both of them are holding each of your hands as you listen to your maternal aunt tell stories of your parents from their youth.

Through her words, you get a glimpse of your parents in their youth– just two kids stupid in love, youthful, lively, and brimming with aspirations. It gives you peace that they were able to live their dreams out before they died- one of those dreams being seeing you graduate high school. It’s a shame they weren’t present at your college graduation. 

After listening to your aunt, your grandma, and Jungkook’s mom. Jungkook is next. You didn’t know he’d be talking, but his mom let you know that he had something prepared.

He saunters towards the front from the second row, hands in his pockets, before he clears his throat, taking a piece of paper from his pocket, coughing against his closed fist before he speaks up. 

“Auntie ___ and Uncle ___ were the most selfless people I know. When my mother couldn't join me for Mother's Day lunch at school, Auntie __ stepped in. As I learned to ride a bike, it was Uncle ___ who stayed outside with me for hours, patiently assisting me as I struggled to find my balance,” he starts, meeting your eyes before looking back into the general audience. 

“Auntie and Uncle were filled with so much love and trust. They embraced a more liberal parenting style, trusting in the inherent kindness of the world to play a role in shaping their daughter's character.”

It’s funny, because as he’s speaking about you, he can’t bring himself to meet your eyes. “They exposed her to life's various facets, both its joys and challenges, instilling in her a deep understanding of the world's complexities. And their approach paid off. They leave behind a daughter, one of the most compassionate and beautiful souls who embodies traits of independence, strength, and intelligence.”

Your heart clenches, and you raise your lashes, hanging onto his every word. You can feel your  heart beating against your chest. 

“To honor their legacy, let’s approach the world with less caution and more trust. Embrace the goodness of the world and live happily, just like Auntie ___ and Uncle ___ did. Thank you.”

Jungkook still doesn’t meet your eyes as he returns to his seat, but yours follows his all the way to his seat.

-

Right after the memorial service, Jungkook catches you off guard. He strides over, giving you a hug– a full hug– before whispering in your ear, the baritone of his voice causing goosebumps  to erect on your skin. “I have to go now, but stay safe. I’ll see you when I get back.”

You look up at him, nodding. “Yea. See you.”

He doesn’t say anything else, walking towards his parents and taking the keys to his own car before he leaves. All your friends watch Jungkook just as intently, but nobody says anything. You don’t talk about Jungkook much with your friends anymore. There’s not really a reason to. 

And just like that, you don’t see Jungkook for another six months. 

-

The next time you see Jungkook is when he comes home from the military. 

This time, you aren’t able to join his parents to pick him up, and it’s not because you’re avoiding him, but because you have an important meeting at work– a meeting that you just can’t wiggle your way out of. 

Apparently, the higher ups are announcing something– something so important that apparently they need the entire company present…. And why couldn’t have this just been an email?

As the hours tick by, you sit in your cubicle, completing an analysis of consumer behavior for a client. Work isn’t particularly exciting nor is it a bore. You currently work in consulting, specializing in data analysis to help clients make decisions for their businesses.

At 4PM, an hour before everybody goes home, the higher ups gather everyone into the auditorium. 

You sit next to Mary, one of the colleagues on your team, about 50 years old, who taps you on the shoulder and whispers. “My oh my, if they wanted to kill us all, this would be the perfect time to drop a bomb,” she jokes, which makes you smile. 

That was a cute comment. You place your hand over hers. “Well, at least we’d go out together, right? HR won’t have to spend any more on those team building exercises,” you joke with a gag, prompting Mary to roll her eyes. 

The tension in the room is palpable as the CEO takes the stage and clears their throat, prompting everyone’s attention.

"Good afternoon, everyone. I'm pleased to announce that after months of negotiations, we have finalized a merger agreement with HYBE Korea," the CEO declares, gesturing towards the screen where the company logo appears.

“This means that some of the departments will be relocating to HYBE," the CEO announces, his voice projecting as he gestures towards the screen displaying the company's new logo. "HYBE is investing in a new building equipped with state-of-the-art facilities, providing us with an exciting opportunity to expand our operations."

You pause, and that’s when the realization sinks in. 

Jungkook works for HYBE. 

"In celebration of this milestone, we will be hosting a party next month to commemorate the merger. More details will be sent through email.” the CEO continues, his words met with a ripple of applause and relieved smiles from the crowd. "It will be an opportunity for us to come together as a unified team and celebrate the bright future that lies ahead."

Mary’s saying something to you but you’re not even processing it, trying to understand the implications of the merger. 

There’s no way you’d be working with Jungkook– imagine the odds of that. But, what if? 

He gets back today and everything feels surreal. 

-

After you get back to your car, Jungkook’s mother calls you, excitedly urging you to drive over to her place to celebrate Jungkook’s return from the military. You tell her that of course you’ll be there before you start driving down the oh so familiar streets to Jungkook’s child home. 

Upon pulling up, you see a familiar face. 

Rolling down the window, you call out his name, “Tae!!”

Taehyung, who is in the midst of walking towards the front door, whips his head towards your voice. “Y/N, hey!”

He waits for you to park, you clumsily grabbing onto your purse so you can meet him at the front. 

“I missed you,” you say. 

“I missed you too. Text me more,” he responds before scanning you up and down, “You look… fancy,” Taehyung comments to which you sigh playfully. 

“You know, I chose to waste my life away as a corporate slave,” you muse, giving him a hug. 

“Just like your boyfriend,” Taehyung jokes, making an obvious reference to Jungkook. 

“Oh shut up,” you sigh, swatting his bicep, allowing him to open the door for you. 

The moment you walk in, Jungkook’s mother squeals like she’s never seen you in her life. “Omo, omo, omo! Y/N is here everyone!” she announces excitedly, scurrying over to you, immediately latching onto your bicep to pull you towards the crowd, “Y/N is here! Y/N is here!”

Jungkook is standing by the dining table, surrounded by his aunts, uncles, and cousins. He lifts his head to meet eyes with you, offering you a gentle smile. The way he looks at you, smiles at you– it’s just, it makes your heart swell. 

Every time you see him, it’s like time slows down. 

You can imagine waking up this smile every morning, rolling over to find his handsome face gazing softly at you to- 

Wait. Have you lost your mind?

And at that moment, you’re tackled to the ground by Jungkook’s six year old cousin, Jacob. If Jungkook is no longer in love with you, the only solace you have is the affection of his six year old cousin. 

He grabs your face with both palms, causing your lips to pucker as he pouts at you. “Why didn’t you say hi to me?” 

You gently grab his face and ruffle hush air. “Sowwy, Jacob. You’re too little I didn’t see you,” you reason to which Jacob, for some reason, becomes angry at. 

He rolls over onto the ground, just to get up and stomp away. “I am not little!” he declares, stomping up the stairs. You can hear the door slam and you exchange bewildered glances with Jacob’s mother, who shakes her head. 

“He's just going through a bit of a phase," she reassures you with a smile, before turning to follow Jacob upstairs. You lock eyes with Jungkook, who gives you a subtle smile. 

The Jeon family is filled with drama queens. 

Jungkook closes the distance between you. “Hey.”

You feel your heart skip a beat. 

He’s as handsome as ever. Just like he’s always been. 

“Hey, welcome back,” you sheepishly express, standing on your tiptoes to give him a hug. 

He hugs you– like, really hugs you. Both of his strong arms snake around your waist, holding you against him securely. It leaves you weak in the knees. It’s a little too intimate for a casual, welcome back hug, but you haven’t a problem with it. 

He pulls back, and all you can do is stare at him. You’re mesmerized. Again, he always makes you feel like this. This feeling will never dissipate. 

“Did you just get back from work?” 

You come back to Earth, pulled from your entrancement. 

“Yea, I did…” You scan him up and down. He’s wearing something casual– a black T-shirt and black shorts, but his physique still looks perfect and he still looks perfect. Without thinking, you speak, “Did you happen to hear about the- no, nevermind.”

Jungkook tilts his head with a slightly teasing expression, “No, say it,” he urges

“The merger.”

“Merger?”

You say it in unison, and you bite a smile back. 

Jungkook’s mom automatically intervenes, “Omo! Omo!” she exclaims, “A merger? What merger?”

“Y/N’s company and my company are merging,” Jungkook simply answers, looking at you to raise his brows. 

“Omo!” she exclaims again, almost theatrically falling to her knees, “Does this mean that you two will be working together?” she asks, motioning towards you and Jungkook, to which you sheepishly shake your head. 

“Probably not,” you dismiss, “I don’t even know if my department is relocating to the new facility.”

“Oh, I hope you do!” Jungkook’s mother pouts, “That would be absolutely perfect! It would be great if he could watch over you at work,” she reasons, before addressing the entire family, “Y/N is very pretty and gets hits on a lot,” she explains, making you squeeze your features in embarrassment. 

All of Jungkook’s older family members murmur in agreement– and you appreciate the hype, you really do, but it’s embarrassing, especially in front of the entire family. You place a hand on Jungkook’s mother’s shoulder. “Excuse me for a moment, I’m going to use the restroom,” you whisper, to which she gives you two big thumbs ups. 

On your way to the restroom, you stop in your tracks. None other than Yeonjun, the ANTAGONIST, steps out, swatting the air like he’d just taken a nasty shit. 

You blink at him and he blinks at you. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you deadpan. 

Yeonjun shrugs, “Jungkook’s aunt invited me. She thinks I’m a cutie pie.”

“Okay,” you roll your eyes, walking past him to inconspicuously drag him with you into the restroom. 

You throw him onto the toilet seat, looking into the mirror to touch up your makeup. 

“Y/N, this looks suspicious,” Yeonjun deadpans, watching you reapply your lip gloss and comb through your eyebrows. 

At that, you drop your hand from your face. “Oh shit, that’s true,” you gasp, a hand coming over your mouth. 

For the past– like– two years, Jungkook’s family has been under the impression that you and Yeonjun are dating. That notion couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

You inhale sharply, turning towards Yeonjun, “You leave first and then I’ll follow.”

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Sure thing, Y/N. Just pray that nobody’s waiting outside," he says with a mocking smile before slipping out of the restroom.

And of course, Jungkook’s mother was right outside the door. She shrieks. 

-

Every single one of Jungkook’s aunts and uncles met you when you were just an itty-bitty baby.   

Occasionally, you keep in touch with the aunts and uncles– not nearly as much as you do with Jungkook��s parents, but goodness, are you thankful for your connections to the Jeon family because you find out that Jungkook’s uncle won the lottery. 

The literal lottery– and he bought a yacht, a yacht that he suggests to all the “kids” (a bunch of 20-something year olds, pushing 30) to go on a little cruise in celebration of Jungkook’s return. 

You really wouldn’t be yourself if you didn’t rush home to get your bikini and sunscreen, and of course, you dragged Yeonjun along with you. 

The yacht, even under the night sky, is the fanciest, most luxurious thing you've ever laid eyes on. Its lights twinkle like stars, casting a gentle glow on the water. It's like a dream come true, a magical oasis on the dark sea. 

This is so cute, so summer. 

With your towel laid against the deck, you’re lying on the deck like you’re suntanning, which isn’t possible because it’s the moon’s light that shines down on you, but at least it makes you feel like a magical moon fairy. 

“Get the angles right!” you bark to which Yeonjun rolls his eyes to the back of his head and groans. 

With your forearm resting against the deck, you hold your body up sideways, all your assets on display. With your knees touching, your hip touches the deck, and your other arm goes up in the air, and you’re waving it around like a little mermaid. 

In a sense, you’re posing to get a cute Instagram pic– but also because you know Jungkook might be watching from the upper deck. He’s probably drinking with his friends, not even batting a lash nor caring about you, but you like to delude yourself into thinking that he could be checking you out from a distance. 

“Y/N, I took like 300,” he deadpans, dismissing your complaints with a wave, “Take some for me now,” he instructs, standing up to hand you his phone, “I’m cuter than you so they better look better than yours.”

“Yea, yea. Whatever,” you muse, going along with the bit, holding up your phone to get all the good angles for your forever bestie. 

-

Mingyu, Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook sit on the upper deck, staring at the night sky with bottles of Soju in their hands. Like you and Yeonjun, they’re in their swim trunks, though no one is entirely certain they want to go for a swim in the chilly  water. 

Unbeknownst to you, the four men have a clear view of you from the upper deck.

The flash of the phone camera flickers comically, occasionally lighting up the mens’ faces as they all try to avoid looking at you– out of chivalry, of course. 

Taehyung is particularly amusing, maintaining his expression of stoicism as he stares directly into the moon, taking an occasional sip of Soju. 

At that moment, Jungkook knows that he chose the right friends because he himself can’t seem to rip his eyes from you. You’re beautiful; that is absolute, without a doubt– but something has changed– maybe it’s the angle that the cool breeze hits his face or the alcohol making him feel soothingly warm on the inside. 

Jungkook sees it in your mannerisms, the way you poise yourself, the way you walk, the way you talk. You were gorgeous before, and he was insane about you before, but damn– you’ve become such a woman. 

He knows what it is, but he’d be a dick to patronize you for it, to act like he’s proud of you for becoming more confident. Undoubtedly, you’ve developed a more profound sense of confidence and it makes Jungkook swell with pride because he remembers how you’ve agonized over your body, complaining about your boobs, your weight, your waist, when in reality everything was and is perfect. 

You’re as beautiful as a Victoria’s Secret model, as ethereal as the goddess of beauty, and Jungkook’s just happy to see that you’ve embraced it. 

You yourself would agree with the sentiment; it wasn’t until your 20’s that you grasped how utterly gorgeous you are, and how to embrace your beauty, make yourself look good and like you, not just like every other girl on Instagram. 

Jimin clears his throat, “So.. now that you’re back, are you and Y/N going to…”

Jungkook lifts his head and looks at Jimin. He shakes his head. It’s firm and absolute. “No, it’s better for us to be friends.”

Mingyu raises a brow, “You can’t take your eyes off her.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he rationalizes, “People can like each other and still be incompatible.”

“Incompatible?” Taehyung repeats, a twinge of confrontation in his voice, “If I had a girl like Y/N in my life I’d propose immediately.”

Jungkook stares into the moon, “I need a cigarette-”

“Okay, what is wrong with you?” Jimin challenges, rising to his feet, “Y/N is right there,” Jimin whisper-yells, motioning towards the lower deck, “You clearly still feel something for her, so do something about it. I mean- how would you feel if someone– not me… I don’t know. How would you feel if Mingyu hit on her right now? And they started dating?’

“Why me?-”

“That would be inappropriate,” Jungkook retorts, “Y/N can date whoever she wants, just not you guys.”

“Then what about Yeonjun?” Taehyung intervenes calmly, “Yeonjun’s a good kid. She brings him to all your family events. They’re cute together, huh?” Taehyung motions towards the lower deck, where you and Yeonjun are laying on your sides facing each other, animatedly discussing something probably stupid, like penguins. 

He notices the skinship, how your hand is casually thrown around Yeonjun’s waist, and how you occasionally swat at his shoulder whenever he says something a little too egregious. 

No, it doesn’t bother Jungkook. 

Jungkook actually likes that you have male friends, that you can maintain friendships with the opposite gender without it having to mean more. 

It means that he can trust you, and that he can trust your friends to take care of you. 

But what trust is at stake here? It’s not like you’re his girlfriend nor should he worry about who’s taking care of you or not taking care of you. Furthermore, it really isn’t his place to feel betrayed, like you cheated on him, by the prospect of you actually forming a relationship with Yeonjun–. 

“See? You look hurt as fuck,” Taehyung affirms.

“I’m not hurt-”

“Get your shit together, and get your girl. Y/N’s not perfect, but she could be perfect for you,” Taehyung shrugs at his corny play of words, earning a playful shoulder nudge from Mingyu. 

“Aye, that was a good one.”

On cue, he hears two inconspicuous splashes into the ocean, your squeals echoing across the atmosphere. 

“Tag, you’re it!”

“Bitch! You just kicked my balls!”

“I said tag, you’re it!”

But wait, isn’t it a little too dark to be swimming this late?

-

When it comes to you it’s like Jungkook’s protective instinct never dies. 

Descending the stairs to the lower deck, he watches Yeonjun as he climbs onto the deck. “Y/N, you need to stop kicking my nuts! Holy shit!”

“I said sorry!” you retort, “I didn’t know!”

Yeonjun grumbles something indistinctive before picking a towel up to  roughly dry his hair, disappearing into the restroom. 

“Y/N, it isn’t safe to swim alone at night,” Jungkook mumbles. He takes a seat on the lower deck, his feet submerged under the water. The water is icy cold, and he can’t conceive how you’re not shivering. He’s not being patronizing. He’s simply worried for your safety. 

You swim towards him, hands latching around his ankles to stabilize yourself beneath the water. 

It’s the casual skinship between you two. The way his hand lingered on your shoulder when he told you his uncle bought a yacht. It’s the way he can casually wipe food from your mouth with his bare hands without batting a lash. It’s the way your fingers trail up his legs so you can place your forearms against his thighs, resting your head on them. 

“Then… why don’t you come join me..?” 

Jungkook really doesn’t want to. The water is cold, the weather is cold, and he’s very much comfortable on the warm yacht. 

….

Jungkook submerges himself under the water, coming up before flicking his head back to rid the water from his eyes. 

“It’s cold as fuck, Y/N,” Jungkook mutters, body temperature still adjusting to the chilly water.

He freezes when your fingertips brush against his. abs— perhaps accidentally, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t make him feel any less electrified.

“That’s why it’s good to have more than one person in here,” you rationalize, “More body heat.”

You’re treading against the water, and not doing a great job at it- your head bobs with the motion of the waves, and you find yourself sputtering the water out of your mouth as you speak.

Jungkook wipes his face haphazardly with his left hand before he reaches out to stabilize you, holding onto your bicep. 

It makes your heart skip a beat. So big and strong. You can smell the shampoo on his wet hair, and it makes you dizzy because not only does he always look good, he always smells good. 

Your eyes trail from his bicep to his shoulder, neck, and finally, to his eyes. He’s already looking at you, the warmth of his gaze making you feel so secure and safe. 

You know he wants you. There’s no way he can look at you like this and not want you. 

It hasn’t even been a day since he’s returned from the military and he looks at you the same way he looked at you from the night before he left: with love. 

Your eyes flicker down to his lips, his pretty lips. He’s so pretty. You close the distance, wrapping your arms around his neck to stabilize you further, and you draw your lips to his- 

Until he turns his head.

Still, his hands grab your waist, holding you close to him against the water, but he looks into the ocean, 90 degrees from you, refusing to look at you or meet your eyes. 

“It’s cold, we should get out. I don’t want to get sick,” he suggests.

“Yea, okay,” you sheepishly agree, allowing him to hoist you onto the lower deck before following in your stead.

He throws you a vacant towel, “You alright?”

Catching it with a single hand,  you use it to pat yourself dry, composing yourself before you stare at him. 

“I’m fine.”

-

That night, Jungkook’s mother suggests you spend the night at her house, or that Jungkook drive you home given how late it is. 

Instead, you sneak out of the house and drive home, far too embarrassed to be around Jungkook let alone look him in the eye. 

That was so humiliating. You think about how you behaved while you were staying with him after your parents’ death. You exposed yourself to him in the shower and begged him to join you. What the hell were you even thinking? Should you just drive your car off this cliff?

When you pull into your apartment complex’s parking lot, you keep banging your head against the steering wheel in hopes that maybe you’d wake up and realize that tonight was just an embarrassing dream. 

Well, unfortunately it wasn’t a dream, because later that night Jungkook shows up at your door with your wallet in his hand. You answer the door in a loose T-shirt, boyshorts, and a Snorlax plush headband on your head with a gray face mask. 

“My mom told me to give this back to you.”

You take the wallet, “Thanks.”

You stand there for a moment, staring at him. 

He looks at you, pursing his lips before he places a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, I’ll always care about you, alright?”

You nod, fidgeting with the charm of your necklace, “I know.”

“Good. I’ll be going, then,” Jungkook announces. 

“Alright, drive safely,” you respond. 

With a brief nod, Jungkook moves to shut the door and depart, and for some reason you just can’t bear to see him go so your hands instinctively reach for him, latching around his wrist. 

Jungkook raises his eyebrows at you, and you almost yank your hand from him immediately. 

“It’s nothing,” you express, biting your lip. 

“Alright then, I’ll see you.”

“Good night.”

The moment he leaves, you scold yourself for being so emboldened. Weren’t you embarrassed enough? You open your fridge, pouring yourself a glass of champagne, before you pace around your apartment, your champagne swishing in your glass while you find yourself in deep contemplation.

Jungkook’s back. 

Everything you’ve ever wanted is back, in front of you. 

You hurt him, and apparently you made him cry, well- that was all in the past, anyways. 

It doesn’t matter because you love him. You really do. You love him with your entire soul, heart, and being, and you know your feelings are reciprocated, so if there’s even a chance that he’s willing to give it another shot, you’ve got to do something about it. 

Instinctively, you grab your laptop and place it on the dining table, stretching your fingers out to write the longest text message you’ve probably sent in your life. 

Once your pinky finger presses the Enter key, you slam your laptop shut, pacing around your apartment until you hear a ding from your phone. 

You nearly screech, running to your bathroom to wash off the face mask, putting some moisturizer on, combing through your eyebrows, and applying your lip gloss before- 

Ding Dong

You open the door, looking up at Jungkook with big eyes while he looks down at you. He runs his hand through his hair before holding your face with his palms, studying you, his eyes urgently scanning your features for any hint of insincerity. 

“You mean it?”

“Yes,” you say resolutely, struggling against his firm grasp, your lips slightly puckering. 

“Prove it then,” he demands.

He lets go of your face and welcomes himself into your humble abode. 

Taking a seat on your couch, he crosses his arms, watching you intently as if waiting for you to break out into a soliloquy. 

You don’t know what to say, and you’re far too embarrassed to admit your transgressions aloud, until a light bulb appears over your head. 

“My diary,” you suggest, “I’ll let you read… parts of my diary, but you have to prove it first.”

You expect him to ask you how, or to ask you what he’s supposed to be proving, but he doesn’t. 

“Okay. C’mere,” he says with a tilt of his head. All you can do is shift your weight between ankles, before shyly approaching him. 

“Sit,” he gently instructs. 

You nod, about to seat yourself on the area beside him before he grabs your wrist and twirls you around so that you’re straddling him. Your hands find themselves on your shoulders, and Jungkook wraps his around your back. 

“Y/N, I..” he starts, his gently brown orbs studying your features, “I know what you think of me,” he sighs as if just relinquished from holding the weight of the world, “and I promise you that I’m not that man,” he continues, scrutinizing your every nonverbal response.

“I’m selfish, I’m immature,” he starts, brushing your bangs from your face, “but never with you,” he finishes. “I always showed you the best parts of me, always wanted you to see me as someone you can rely on,” he expresses, gently cradling your face, “but I don’t think you realize how much I depend on you, how much I need you too.”

Your features scrunch, studying his features, digesting his words. He reaches in his pocket for something, before pulling out a heart shaped locket. He uses his other arm to delicately grasp your hand, placing the locket in your hand. 

“Look at it,” he instructs, and you follow, your fingertips clumsily opening the locket. Your heart swells. The heart shaped locket bears an image of you. 

“Being in the military wasn’t easy for me,” he continues, “but I had you with me. Had my favorite girl with me. You gave me strength.”

“When you left that morning, I regretted what I said to you. I thought I was too harsh, and that I’d lost you forever. That was one of the worst feelings in my life– but to me, I felt that you were the one who turned me down. I thought that you were just infatuated with me, that you wouldn’t care about me if you’d see how immature and selfish I really am. But I love you so much that I was okay with that. I’m okay with anything as long as it’s you,” he finally finishes.

You don’t know what to say. Your eyes flicker towards the locket, “You could’ve chosen a better picture,” you mumble, to which Jungkook amusedly scoffs. 

“That’s all you have to say?” he muses. 

Your cheeks turn strawberry pink, and you climb off his lap, running to your room to grab your diary. You return, skipping through the pages, before you  land on the one you want to show him. 

You jut it towards him, “Here.”

Jungkook’s eyes glaze over the page, and he starts reading it aloud, mocking your voice, “I graduate college today-”

You literally throw yourself on him to shut him up, “Do not.”

A cheeky smile dances across his face as his eyes scan over the page. After a moment, he looks up and pouts, “Awe, baby,” he coos. 

Your face scrunches cutely. 

“Come gimme a hug,” he sweetly beckons, to which you sheepishly jump into his lap again, his arms snaking around your waist while he soothingly runs his hands up and down your back. 

“I’ll always be here for you, whether we’re together or not,” he whispers against your skin, “You mean everything to me.”

“I know,” you self-consciously respond.

"There's nothing you can do to be 'worthy' of me. I love you for you. You can be the world's richest person or the world's poorest person and there's nothing that would change for me, seriously. All you need to do is continue loving yourself, and that's good enough for me."

"Even if I turned into a worm? You'd still love me?" you ask, your voice coming out as a slight whimper.

Jungkook smiles. Obviously not, but of course, he'll indulge you. "Of course," he says, his voice like honey, "I'd carry you around in my pocket."

"Thanks," you sheepishly murmur, “There are just things I’m worried about, but I trust you with everything.”

He hums in agreement, “We’ll work it out.”

“Okay,” you concede, “I love you,” you confess, “I love you forever.”

“I love you forever too.”

The moment feels so intimate. Your chests are heart to heart, beating in unison as you relish the sensation of having him in your arms, having him back. 

-

Dating Jungkook officially means you get to indulge in all of your innermost desires, the little things you never thought you’d see into fruition– because the reality is that you’ve seen Jungkook in every way. He’s been to your house thousands of times, and you’ve slept over at his hundreds of times, but having him in a different way fills you with an indescribable sense of excitement and joy. 

He’s taken you shopping thousands of times, but this time is different. Jungkook is affectionately, overwhelmingly so. He’ll keep his fingers intertwined with yours even when your palms become drenched with sweat. As stated before, he doesn’t care about any distinct bodily fluid if it’s yours. 

He’ll hold you from behind while you browse through clothes, give you the occasional peck when you’re in line– it seems like he’s enjoying this domestic intimacy as much as you are. The poor guy has been in the military for a whole year. 

“That one’s cute,” he comments, motioning towards a white sundress hanging on the rack, just beside the crop top you’re currently looking at. He keeps your body close to him, his arms so casually thrown around you from behind. His fingers play with your hair, twirling it around his index, and every so often, he presses kisses to your cheek, neck, and skillfully cradles your face, forcing your jaw towards him for a sweet kiss. 

“Should I try it on?” you ask with a cute tilt of your head. 

“I like it,” he offers, “I rarely see you in dresses. You always look so pretty.”

His sentiment makes you blush– you’re already aware that when he’s around, you’ve only really been in casual clothes: crop tops, sweatpants, and flared leggings. You want to show him a new side of you. 

“We could go to the beach together,” you offer. 

Jungkook hums in agreement, “Of course, baby,” he agrees, “You looked really pretty in that matching skirt and crop top thing you wore last time.”

“Which one?”

“The one you broke my heart in,” he teases. 

You amusedly scoff, twirling around to grab his face and press a kiss on his lips. He acts annoyed, doesn’t return the kiss, just stares down at you, but still chases your lips when you pull away. 

If the skinship is this pervasive in public, you can’t imagine how he would behave behind closed doors.

Jungkook got back yesterday, and you think that he’s really taking his fill of you after being deprived from you for so long. 

Yesterday was Friday, and today is Saturday… meaning that neither of you have nothing to do.

Nothing to do but look at cute princess dresses at the mall, cuddle, and watch Jujutsu Kaisen, obviously. 

Even while doing something as mundane as watching anime from the floor, you sit in between his legs, back pressed up against his chest, and his arms around your waist, fingers playing and pinching with the chub of your tummy. 

He can’t keep his hands off you. 

The sounds of Gojo and Toji’s fight are drowned by the pounding of your cardiac palpitations. Jungkook’s large hands are splayed against the front of your body, his hands trailing up and around your stomach and back,  rubbing your skin, and sinking his fingertips into your chub. 

You gasp softly when you feel him unclasp your bra. 

He pulls his arms around you even more securely, tugging you onto his lap before he buries his face into the crook of your neck, “You’re so soft,” he murmurs, and his hands return to your stomach– and you think they’re going to trail up. Perhaps he’ll grab a handful of titty or rub a nipple until he doesn’t-

His hands trail to your legs, rubbing his palms up and down each calf lovingly before he laces his fingers through your toes, and gently pushes you off his lap…?

He rises to his feet. “I’m hungry, want me to make some ramen for you?”

“Uh yea, sure,” you smile. 

You and Jungkook have done it before: twice. Once at the beach villa and the second before he enlisted. 

Every time was magical, electrifying, the best you’ve ever had. He led you through each and every step with expertise and he was so soft, so sweet, and it felt so fucking good. 

Admittedly, your past, insecure, and inquisitive self did some snooping around and you are aware of Jungkook’s body count: 13. You were the 13th, and quite honestly, it didn’t make you feel the greatest; you despise the thought of Jungkook with another woman, but you suppose that there is something nice about having an experienced man. 

It’s not like you weren’t inexperienced either. 

Your body count was– like– 6. 

It’s not like any of the men before Jungkook actually made you come. It felt good, you guess, but having sex with someone you’re in love with is indescribable.  

You want to do it with him, but there’s something that makes you feel subconscious about making the first move, especially when it comes to something as intimate and forth putting as sex. 

You don’t find yourself seductive enough to do so, and you already have societal norms against you. 

Women are the gatekeepers of sex. Men are the ones who want to unlock the gate. Blah Blah Blah. 

Well, you want to have sex too because you’re unbelievably in love and aroused by this man. 

So, would you be making the first move? You’ve changed a lot since the emboldened 19 year old you once were. 

In conclusion, no. You will absolutely not be making the first move. You will just have to suck it up. 

-

That Saturday night, Jungkook stays over at your place. 

Nothing happens, of course, but that doesn’t mean that Jungkook doesn’t spoon you like a prison inmate incarcerated in his little Jungkook cell. He snores softly against the crook of your neck. 

Living alone isn’t easy, especially as a 21 year old (subjectively hot) girl. You double lock your doors. You have a baseball bat with nails hidden in the depths of your closet. While Jungkook was in the army, you had Yeonjun, Soobin, and Beomgyu on speed dial just in case anything were to happen. 

It was stressful, and it gave you crippling anxiety at times. 

But Jungkook is your Prince Charming in every way, from the way he makes you feel, to the way he dotes on you, and to the way he protects you. Jungkook’s got big strong military muscles, and you know that he’d never let anything happen to you. 

Since forever, he’s always casually swept you towards the inside of the sidewalk, stepped in front of you when a stranger approached, and of course you aren’t aware of this, but the reason those creepy frat boys started leaving you alone was because of him. 

The sun rises, its sweet rays as warm as the feeling intensifying your chest. Jungkook’s arms are still draped on your sides, and you turn over so you can get a real good glimpse at his sleeping face. 

So handsome. Jungkook is sleeping calmly, soft snores leaving his mouth, and it brings you so much joy to see him at peace. 

You run a thumb over his brow, pressing a soft kiss to the area in between his eyebrows. Slowly, his eyes open, and he’s staring at you with lidded eyes, and you can’t fathom how handsome you think he is. 

“G’morning baby,” he says in a soft voice, the grogginess of his morning voice making you gulp. 

“Hi,” you sweetly respond, “Sorry for waking you. You can go back to sleep. It’s Sunday,” you say folding the comforter away from you to sneak out of bed. 

Jungkook protests with a hum, “I want you to stay with me,” he mumbles. 

“You don’t want breakfast?” 

“Can’t sleep without you,” he responds, his chest rising slightly, which makes you pout. 

“Alright.”

Peace. Serenity. Serendipity. Everything you’ve ever wanted. You’re so in love. 

-

Later that day, you get an email from the company, which is surprising since it’s Sunday, but essentially, the email states that your department will be transferring to the new HYBE facility. You flip your phone to show Jungkook the screen, who is sitting across the table stuffing his face with noodles with a Snorlax headband in his hair. 

On cue, Jungkook’s phone dings, and he pulls out his phone. 

“Oh shit,” he says aloud, “Same.”

You’re a bit taken aback, “Are you serious?” you ask, scrambling to your feet before racing around the dining room to glimpse at Jungkook’s phone. 

Dear Jungkook, We're pleased to inform you that your department facilities are relocating to a new, improved location. This move is part of our ongoing commitment to efficiency and employee satisfaction…

You exchange glances with him, blinking at him momentarily before you speak. 

“You’re going to get sick of me if you have to see me everyday,” you deadpan, prompting him to theatrically roll his eyes. 

“You do analytics, I do software development. We’re not even going to be on the same floor,” he declares matter-a-factly, “You’ll probably be with… the marketing girls or something.”

“Oh really?” you muse, raising your brows, “You don’t want to see me at work? You’d rather be with those ‘marketing girls’?”

Jungkook purses his lips, staring at you unimpressed, before a smile spreads across his lips. 

“If I see you at work,” he whispers, fingertips dancing  along your thigh before his palms grasp the backs of your thighs, pulling you towards him, “I won’t be able to focus. I’d be too distracted keeping my eyes on the pretty girl from the Analytics department.”

You blush slightly, “Oh- oh, shut up.”

“What? It’s the truth. Either you or I have to quit, and it won’t be me. I have seniority over you.”

You know he’s joking, but the notion makes you scowl. You step out of his grasp, “That’s not funny,” you mutter, crossing your arms. 

He shrugs, “I could really turn into the sugar daddy you’ve always dreamed about.”

“Don’t undermine me because I don’t have as much experience as you do,” you direct, to which Jungkook theatrically drops his jaw, rising to his feet. 

You look him right in the eye, maintaining your glare as he starts to tower over you. “Oh c’mon baby, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” he comforts. 

You shake your head, rolling your eyes, “Asshole,” you spit, stomping away from him, to which Jungkook follows. 

“Seriously? I was joking!” he reasons, following you to your room. You walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind you and locking it before he can trail in your stead. At that, Jungkook scoffs, not believing that you were taking it this seriously. 

He knocks on the door. “Y/N,” he calls, dragging out your name. 

You don’t say anything, and he squeezes his eyes in defeat when he hears the sound of the shower starting, opting to slip into your bed whilst waiting for you to return. He sighs, running his hands over his face. 

To be honest, Jungkook is a little triggered. He hates the whole silent treatment thing more than anything else. Last year, you ignored him for four months straight and it nearly killed him  on the inside. 

Minutes later, you emerge from the shower, one towel wrapped around your body and the other wrapped around your hair. You cross your arms, staring at him. The towel wrapped around your frame is loose, threatening to fall beneath the nipple. 

Jungkook sighs, standing up and sauntering over. Your eyes are glossy, not from the water from the shower, and the tip of your nose is a cute shade of pink. Your features are twisted up into petulance, your lips displaying a subtle pout. 

Seeing you in distress pains him too. 

His gentle and careful fingers pull the towel above your breast. He knows you feel vulnerable and he doesn’t want you to inadvertently expose yourself and contribute to that vulnerability, his left hand rubbing your nape up and down gently. “What’s wrong, baby? Hm?” he inquires sweetly, bending over to draw your lips in for a honeyed kiss. 

“I just–” you start, unable to meet his eyes as you crane your head the other way. Jungkook gently cradles your jaw, directing your focus back to him. Looking into his eyes, you choke up. “I just– I know you weren’t being serious, but I just feel belittled, like is my work so unserious that one day I’ll just end up being a trad wife or stay at home mom?” 

Jungkook feels awful. He was already aware that you had some sort of inferiority complex when it came to him, and knowing that he fed into it makes him regret everything he’s ever said. 

Jungkook opens and closes his mouth immediately, looking for the right words. He places both palms on your shoulders, “Shit. I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean it that way at all,” he expresses, “I was just– I was just being a dick,” he says, pulling you in for a hug. “I don’t think of you that way at all,” he continues, “I mean– look at you. You’re 21 and you’re rich, you’ve got a good job. You’re up there with all these old people,” he jokes, eliciting a sweet giggle from your lips. 

“I only said it because I love you and I like the thought of taking care of you,” he says, to which you squirm. 

You squirm in place, looking the other way, “So are you mad at me? For ignoring you?” you sweetly beckon, and Jungkook draws your lips for another sweet kiss. 

“No, baby. I’m thankful you said something, though,” he offers, continually rubbing your nape up and down. 

“I can take care of you too,” you declare, “Remember? We’re equals now,” you express, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. 

That night, Jungkook helps you change into your clothes, dries your hair, and rubs your skincare into your face. So delicate. So sweet

There’s something so wonderful about having someone you can confide in, communicate with, and love. Jungkook never judges you; all you have to do is explain how you feel and he’ll indulge you completely. 

-

That doesn’t mean however, that Jungkook can’t be selfish, immature, or childish. 

The night he confessed to you, he told you that he could be all those things, and to be honest, you’ve never really seen it directed towards you. 

When he was a teenager, you saw him get mad at his parents when he was caught smoking for the first time. You were a kid, but you thought that was pretty childish. 

Beyond that, Jungkook has always been chill, more laid back, and normal. 

Not tonight, though. 

“That was childish,” you deadpan from the passenger seat of his car. 

Jungkook reaches over to place his palm on your thigh, to which you swat it away and lean as far as you can into the window. 

Jungkook scoffs, “You’re calling me childish? Out of all people, you’re calling me childish?”

You cross your arms. “I am,” you respond, your voice firm and resolute. 

You both were on your way back from the company party celebrating the merger. The company went all out, hosting the party at a luxury hotel, illuminating the hotel’s grand ballroom with twinkling chandeliers and neon signs displaying the company’s name. 

You arrive as a pair, nothing too conspicuous for the sake of professionalism. You’re wearing a long sleeved dress, with Jungkook in a casual black button up and gray slacks. 

You quickly separated to meet with your respective departments, and when you happened to pass by Jungkook’s department, he went out of his way to greet your coworkers, introducing himself to your department like he’s never seen you before in his life. 

The other men in Jungkook’s department are quite put together. They seem like the type of people Jungkook would work with: young, objectively attractive, tech-nerds. You greet all of them with the same enthusiasm Jungkook greeted your department, knowing that they may be potential wedding guests. 

At the moment, you aren’t quite able to recall their names but he works with six other guys. They didn’t really leave a lasting impression; they were kind, sweet, and polite, nothing out of the ordinary.

Notably, it was Mary– your kind, sweet, amazing 50-year old coworker and work bestie, who brought her son to the party. That was not something you were expecting, mostly because Mary always teased you about becoming her son-in-law, and you always entertained the notion, not expecting that you’d meet the man in person. 

Mary’s son is in his early 30’s, and he is… nice. 

He’s nice, he really is. He’s an intelligent, hard-working man. He takes care of his sweet mother, and for that, he is admirable, but you think there was some miscommunication there, because he is definitely under the impression that you are interested in him in some way, shape, or form, and you feel horrible about it,  because you don’t think Mary knows you were playing around.  

Mary's son leaned in with a charming smile. "So, what do you like to do outside of work?" he inquires, his gaze lingering on you with a subtle hint of interest.

You hesitate for a moment, "Oh, you know, the usual. I enjoy reading and hiking when I have the time," you reply cautiously.

Mary's son nods, his smile widening slightly. "Sounds like we have some common interests. Maybe we could do something together sometime.”

Your heart sinks at the implication of his words, but before you can respond, your big, hot, sexy boyfriend intervenes. Jungkook had his eye on you the entire night– nothing too conspicuous, but he made sure you were always within his field of peripheral vision. 

Jungkook steps in, a champagne glass in hand. He playfully nudges Mary’s son and you squeeze your eyes shut, dreading what’s yet to come.

“Must be quite the occasion for you to be hitting on your mom’s coworkers,” he cuts in making you run your hands over your face, “Let me put you on to something else,” he continues, “I mean, you’re a handsome guy, and I know that there’s someone else more suitable for you than a 21 year old, alright bud?” he continues, throwing a casual arm around Mary’s son as he leads him elsewhere. 

Okay, it wasn’t that bad. 

But it was embarrassing. 

Jungkook seemed polite, but his language was more than passive aggressive, and anyone who caught heed to the conversation tangibly felt it.  

“I was literally being nice!” Jungkook rationalizes, his fingers tapping against the driver’s wheel, prompting you to huff in frustration. 

“You should have let me handle it,” you respond, “I was going to turn him down. Next time, don’t do all that, alright?”

“You were not going to handle it,” he retorts, “You were mumbling– baby, you were blushing– definitely entertaining it,” he adds. 

You shake your head, “That was my coworker’s son! If it was any other guy I would’ve told him to fuck off, but I had to be polite.”

“Yea, well, and if it was any other guy, I would’ve beaten the shit out of him so what’s your point?”

“Oh my gosh,” you express, face palming. 

“C’mon baby, he was being totally predatory for hitting on his mom’s coworker,” Jungkook argues, “I didn’t even say anything that bad. Had a nice conversation with the guy.”

“It was childish, Jungkook,” you counter, “The fly on the wall could sense your passive aggression.”

“I’m such a big bad wolf for saving my girlfriend from a situation she was uncomfortable in. Aww,” he mocks a pout, dragging his pointer finger across his face to mimic a tear. 

At that, you can’t help but scoff out laughter. “You’re so stupid,” you muse. 

-

That situation was merely the tip of the iceberg. 

You weren’t that angry; Mary’s son was out of line and it’s not like Jungkook said anything too egregious, but it’s the next day that Jungkook really shows you how immature you can be. 

The following Monday is yours and Jungkook’s first day of work. 

Jungkook is so in love, loves seeing you in a new light. It’s like there’s hearts in your eyes when you “coincidentally” run into each other in the second story printing room, finding the way you work when you’re in professional mode so sexy. 

It’s like he has hearts in his eyes while he leans against the company’s wall, hands in his pockets while his eyes follow you from across the office, loving the way you simply walk around with a stack of paper in your hands. 

That is, until the CEO of the fucking company starts hitting on you. That’s when his smile drops, and he removes his hands from the pockets. He instinctively steps forward to intervene yet again, until he remembers that this is actually work and that he can get both of you fired by doing anything too crazy. 

“Quit your job,” Jungkook instructs the moment you get back to his place, causing you to almost drop your work bag onto the floor. 

Maybe you didn’t hear him properly, “What’d you say?” you ask, taking off your shoes and joining him in the kitchen.

“Quit your job. I’ll help you find another one,” Jungkook suggests, rummaging through the fridge, as if it isn’t the most ridiculous idea you’ve heard in your life. 

“I’m sorry babe. Can you repeat that one more time?”

“Quit your job, Y/N,” Jungkook finishes, slamming the fridge a little too hard. He’s clearly miffed. He’s doing that thing where he tongues the inside of his cheek. His eyebrows are in an angry V, and his chest is heaving up and down— and honestly, the fact that he’s angry calms you a little bit. 

He’s just speaking from emotion, and now you need to be the voice of reason. 

You force a smile, sneaking around to hug him from behind, resting your cheek against his mid-back. 

“And why do you say that, honey? Hm?”

He swivels around, placing his palms on your shoulders. “Y/N, this isn’t funny. The CEO was being creepy as fuck. Turn in your resignation tomorrow, and I’ll start looking for another one. I’ll pay your bills until we can find you another job,” he states.

“C’mon babe,” you start, “the CEO was not being creepy. I’m the youngest at the company. He was just being nice.”

At that, Jungkook’s features scrunch in confusion, detecting any hint of sarcasm on your face. “You really think that?”

“I do.”

Jungkook sighs, “Y/N, rate yourself on a scale from 1-10, on societal standards of beauty. 10 being– like Anok Yai. Where do you stand? Be honest?”

The question is absurd, but you entertain it, putting your fingers on your chin while you genuinely contemplate the assertion. 

“Maybe a 6?-”

“Okay, well, you’re an 11, and every guy feels that way. You don’t know how pretty you are and that’s my fault. I should tell you more, but baby– that’s how pretty you are. The CEO was hitting on you and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, so quit your job.”

You stand there, processing his words, and while the sentiment is somewhat touching, you can’t lie and say that you aren’t the least bit upset, especially because you had this conversation about your work a few days ago. 

“No,” is all you say.

“No?” Jungkook challenges.

“No,” you confirm, “I’m not going to quit my job. The CEO hasn’t done anything,” you reason, gesturing with your hands, “If he gets out of line, we can consider reporting him, but I’m not going to quit my job.”

“Okay, fair,” Jungkook says putting his hands up, and you smile, thinking that this conversation is over until he continues. 

“But why would you wait for something bad to happen? Isn’t that totally absurd? I don’t want to wait for it to happen. Let’s play it safe.”

You sigh, “I see what you’re saying, I really do. But I don’t think anything is going to happen. I think you’re overreacting…”

Jungkook pauses, tonguing the inside of his cheek before a sly smile dances across his lips. “Overreacting, huh?”

“Um, yea,” you confirm, “Why would I quit my job? I’d lose all my connections. I mean– this is the only real employment I’ve had. Besides internships, I’d have nothing to put on my resume.”

Jungkook nods, understanding. 

What he really wants to say is “Babe, just quit your job and I’ll make all the money. You’ll never have to work a day in your life and then we’ll retire early and travel the world together with our kids and-”

But that’s totally patronizing, but hey, he can’t help himself if he feels that way. 

“So what do we do, babe? The CEO is in a position of power. I just don’t want you to be taken advantage of,” Jungkook expresses, his eye twitching. 

What he really wants to say is “I literally saw the CEO’s dick getting hard while he talked to you and if I could, I’d shoot his entire office up-”

But of course, he would never utter the sentiment aloud. 

“If it gets to that, we could report him for sexual harassment,” you ponder.

Jungkook nods in agreement, but you and he both understand the implications of reporting your CEO for something like that. Women always get the short end of the stick. People would probably accuse you of lying, the CEO would leverage his resources to legally ruin you, and you both could lose your job security. 

Jungkook doesn’t want to even let it get to that point, and he’s trying his best to respect your autonomy, but it bothers him, it really does. 

He inhales deeply, finding peace in the way your fingertips dance under his skirt, caressing his abs before you pull him in for a hug. “Nothing is going to happen, baby,” you comfort, “Everything will be alright, I promise.”

-

Indeed, everything is not alright, because the CEO repeatedly calls you into his office for some inconspicuous reasons, and you’re suddenly starting to understand where Jungkook is coming from. 

Your only solace is that Jungkook is around the corner. Today, he’s wearing a suit and tie, his wire-framed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He looks exceptionally sexy today, his long legs accentuated by his suit and his hair swept back to show his sexy forehead.

You put your phone down, looking up right when the elevator doors open to reveal a handsome, suit-clad Jungkook. 

“Hello Mr. Jeon,” you express, a smile dancing on your lips when you bow to him and saunter into the elevator. 

“Hello Ms. L/N,” Jungkook responds matter-a-factly, pushing up his glasses on his nose, “Strange running you into here.”

You bite back a giggle, “Yea, that is indeed strange. How is work for you, sir?”

“Oh work’s alright. The team is-”

And just like that your lips are on his, and he’s devouring you completely. Your legs wrap around his waist as he hoists you up, pressing you against the elevator doors as he sloppily and messily kisses you. Tongue in your mouth, teeth clashing, his groin grinds against the area between your thighs, inducing you to moan into his mouth while Jungkook continues licking into you and–

Ding! The elevator dings and you and Jungkook instantly scramble apart, resulting in you running to the other side of the elevator, smoothing out your skirt while you catch your breath. You cough, hand coming at ease in front of you while you stare at the floor. Jungkook behaves similarly, pushing up his glasses while he clears his throat and straightens his tie. 

A second later, the elevator doors open, and more office workers pool in. You and Jungkook greet them politely, feigning innocence and ignorance. 

The next day, something similar transpires. 

You’re wearing a long, red skirt, a white blouse, and you have a white ribbon in your hair. You love work because it grants you opportunities to put together cute, modest outfits, and apparently, Jungkook likes it too, because you always catch him looking. 

He checks you out quite noticeably, his eyes shamelessly scanning up and down your frame as he bites his lips. Your cheeks flush, and you take a moment before you sheepishly step into the elevator. 

“H-hello, Mr. Jeon,” you greet.

“Hi Ms. Y/N. How are negotiations with your new client going?” he asks, adjusting his tie. 

“They’re going great, sir-”

And like that, he closes the distance, cradling your jaw before leaning in for a kiss. His hands salaciously trail down to your behind, giving it a light squeeze, causing you to gasp in his mouth. He takes that as an opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth, causing you to moan as your tongues rub against each other and-

Ding!

Once again, you scramble apart, separating towards each end of the elevator, recomposing yourselves while more people pool in. 

Not a soul would know what really transpires in the elevator everyday at 3:00 PM. 

-

Unless there were cameras in the elevator. 

Which there were. 

Which is crazy because of course there are cameras in the elevator, and quite honestly, you and Jungkook were probably aware of that in the back of your minds, but who cares? Making out with him everyday in the elevator at 3:00 PM is hot and it’s what gets you through the work day (until 3 PM)

You and Jungkook get Cc'd the same email from HR. 

Dear Employees, I hope this email finds you well. We need to discuss an incident observed via security cameras in the elevator involving two employees engaging in intimate behavior. This is a violation of company policies on workplace conduct. Please attend a meeting with HR to address this matter.

Oh shit. 

You and Jungkook wait outside the conference room to talk to the HR. You blink at each other, and honestly you want to burst into giggles, but the conference room is made of glass and you aren’t really sure who’s watching. 

The HR Manager, a tall lanky man, steps from the office and invites you in. 

The meeting isn’t awkward at all— in fact, it’s more straight to the point. Essentially, the HR manager says something along the lines of “You’re free to date in the office, but no PDA. We don’t encourage dating because we want our employees to focus on work. I know you guys are amongst the youngest in the office, so if you want to do–erm— that, then you can go somewhere else during lunch.”

Both you and Jungkook profusely apologize, promise it won’t happen again, and then are off on your ways. 

Funnily enough, the CEO stopped approaching you and calling you to his office so yea, neither of you quit your jobs, and Jungkook was overreacting, a little bit. 

-

Now, the real question remains. 

How do your friends feel about your relationship with Jungkook?

They want to see you happy, always, so that aspect brings them joy, but it’s important to address how things change. 

Before, Jungkook was the unattainable, hotter, older man that all your friends told you to get a grip over because there was just no way he’d ever reciprocate your feelings. But now, things are different. 

If Jungkook is your boyfriend, that means he’s your equal… so if your friends are your equal, does that mean Jungkook is equal to your friends? It’s just the transitive property of equality. If a = b, and b = c, then a =c. 

But that’s weird. 

You know you shouldn’t be making a big deal of it, but your friends are like little piggies and Jungkook is the wolf. There’s no way all of you could hang out at the same time without it being weird, because every time Jungkook has interacted with your friends in the past, it’s always been in a big brotherly way, not a friend way. 

On top of that, Jungkook has never officially met Heeseung or Sunghoon, and he is very much aware that Sunghoon was interested (and potentially still could be) in you, which is probably why you all are sitting around the sushi table in awkward silence. 

Soobin is hyperfocused on his the wrapper of his chopsticks, Beomgyu is repeatedly dipping his chopsticks into the Miso soup to lick at, Yunjin already excused herself to the restroom, and Heeseung is just staring at Jungkook in awe, which is understandable, because your boyfriend looks exceptionally handsome today. 

Yeonjun is probably the only one who can carry the conversation, mostly because he’s the most closely acquainted with Jungkook and his family.

You elbow Yeonjun softly and he clears his throat, “So, um– Jungkook. Does your family still think Y/N and I are together? Or have you already told them that you’re dating?”

Soobin finally says something, “Wait, why would Jungkook’s family think that you and Y/N are dating?”

“Just because I brought him to a couple family events, and they got the wrong idea,” you respond, delicately tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“We haven’t let them know yet,” Jungkook answers, stretching out his upper body, “I don’t think that conversation will go over smoothly because of the… age difference.”

Yeonjun nods, understanding, “Yea, and your little cousin might be upset about it too,” he adds. 

“Oh yea,” Jungkook smiles, addressing the table, “My little cousin is six years old and he’s got the biggest crush on Y/N. He probably won’t talk to me for a year once he finds out,” Jungkook says with a light laugh. 

Oh my gosh. This is so awkward. You inwardly cringe, but leave it to Beomgyu to ease the atmosphere. 

“It’s alright,” Beomgyu adds, “If you didn’t want her, Y/N would have just waited for your cousin to grow up cause at least the cousin likes her-”

You reach over the table to swat at his bicep. 

At that moment, the side dishes arrive: perilla leaves, radish kimchi, steamed egg, pickled cucumbers, and spicy bean sprouts.

Thank goodness the food is here, you think, even if it’s just side dishes. Yunjin returns from the restroom, seemingly renewed as she takes the space between you and Yeonjun, and she starts talking. 

“You know, Jungkook,” she starts, “Y/N really loves you. I, for one, am happy that you’re together. She’s been non-stop talking about you since high school. She showed up at my house crying when she heard you were bringing your girlfriend to Thanksgiving-”

You nudge Yunjin, a nonverbal cue to tell her to shut up. 

Jungkook awkwardly laughs, “Yea, I know Y/N had a crush on me when she was younger but I didn’t realize until a couple years ago… Anyways, Y/N’s not the same person she was when she was a high schooler. I fell in love with her after she turned 19, of course.”

“But isn’t that still a problem?” Sunghoon challenges, and your face almost drops. 

You know where this is going. 

“You knew her since she was a little kid, so isn’t it kinda weird for you to date her?” he asks. The question is innocent, and it’s a valid question, but you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut in anticipation of Jungkook’s answer. 

“Some would say that,” Jungkook responds, “But our relationship isn’t about who she was. It doesn’t matter to me that she had a crush on me when she was younger, it’s about who she is now, and I love her as she is,” he finishes with a smile. 

Sunghoon nods, “That makes sense,” he shrugs. At that moment, you use your chopsticks to pick up the perilla leaves, which are, of course, stuck together. Sunghoon casually reaches out with his chopsticks, separating the leaves and plopping one into his mouth. 

You freeze, and you do what you should, placing the perilla leaf over Jungkook’s bowl of rice, and he almost immediately uses his spoon to swallow the perilla leave along with a spoonful of rice. 

No one seems to notice, and the conversation continues. 

“So what’s it like working with your girlfriend?” Heeseung asks casually, and the conversation continues, taking an upward trajectory, the atmosphere finally settling down. 

-

“He still likes you, Y/N,” Jungkook says matter-a-factly, hanging up his coat in his closet while you take off your shoes by the front door. 

You tilt your head, genuinely confused, “Who?”

“Sunghoon.”

You shake your head, dismissing the notion, “No, that was in the past. I heard he has a girlfriend now.” 

You join Jungkook in his bedroom and he’s staring at you incredulously. “Are you serious?” Jungkook asks, causing you to scoff, “Of course I am!” you retaliate, “He’s over me. I turned him down straight up; I didn’t even entertain his feelings for me. I told him I was in love  with you, remember?”

Jungkook's expression softens, and he takes a seat on his bed, “I know baby, but I’m just saying that he still likes you. Remember what I said?-”

“About me being an 11?” you question, amused, “Yea, nobody thinks that except for you,” you confirm with a nod, taking a seat on his lap when he opens his arms for you. 

Jungkook shakes his head, “I’m not saying it’s anything bad, and I’m not saying I don’t trust you, but I just want you to know that he still likes you. He even tried to give you an indirect kiss,” he says, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.

You raise a brow at him, giggling at the tickling sensation of his lips ghosting across the sensitive areas of your neck, “An indirect kiss?”

“Yes,” Jungkook confirms, “An indirect kiss– the perilla leaf?”

You shake your head. You immediately recall a stupid conversation Jungkook had with his friends. “They peel off one perilla leaf, next thing you know, they’re holding hands, and fall in love, and they end up getting married!” is what he said, causing his friends to roll their eyes. 

You place a chaste kiss on his lips, “You’re stupid,” you giggle. 

He looks at you knowingly. Jungkook isn’t per se, worried about you and Sunghoon. He knows Sunghoon’s a respectful enough kid to not make a move, and he trusts you with his entire heart, soul, and being. He just wants you to know that Sunghoon most likely still harbors something for you.  

Of course he would. Like Jungkook said, you’re an 11. 

-

The delicacy of his feelings for you seeps into everything he does, especially when you’re sick. 

Nestled with your head cradled in the curve of his arm, he gently massages your temples with his right hand, ensuring the damp cloth on your forehead remains refreshingly cool, soothing your feverish brow.

You're drifting into slumber, your eyes half-closed as you softly shift against his embrace. With him around, with his fingers assuaging the ache in your temples,  you finally feel safe enough, protected enough to lose yourself in your own vulnerability and drift into dreamland. 

Later that day, you wake up with Jungkook right by your side. His eyes are on the TV and when he hears your soft mumbles, he welcomes you back to Earth. 

“Kiss me please,” comes out in a soft whimper. You’re barely coherent and you’re asking for a kiss? That’s the cutest fucking thing on the history of the Earth, and Jungkook’s heart clenches. You’re so sweet, so precious, and he’ll gladly oblige. 

He pulls you onto him so you’re lying directly onto him, your boobs pressed against his chest and your stomach pressed against his.

He kisses you sweetly, indulging you completely while your tongues intertwine, and he sighs into your mouth blissfully. 

At that moment, you hear the sound of a thud hitting the floor. You and Jungkook whip your heads towards the sound– it’s his parents. 

“J-Jeon Jungkook! What do you think you’re doing?!” his mother shrieks.

-

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook texts #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #jk fanfic #bts fanfic

[johndonneswife]

not a sad ‘woe is me’ post so don’t send me weird messages but: the thing abt cycling through every ED possible and being bulimic for like 10 yrs & making yourself vomit up to 10x times per day on ur worst days is that your teeth and gums will eventually give out on you (bc it doesn’t make a difference if you’ve been good & it doesn’t matter how well you’ve taken care of your teeth for the last x years) and u will be 30 years old crying to your very sweet and kind dentist when she tells you about the 1 million things that are wrong with ur teeth

#anyway i feel strongly compelled to quit my job and dedicate my entire life to speaking out abt eating disorders #& doing research & writing & advocating for people who are suffering #women who are suffering #i think this is honestly my life’s calling!!!! i just don’t know where to start #you know movies glamorize having anorexia & it’s always like: she is the most beautiful girl in the world…but so sad…she doesn’t eat :( #i need to make movies that have scenes like that one chapter of i’m glad my mom died: #where jennette has been throwing up like 15 times a day and her tooth falls out #and she’s literally just like: yeah i’ll deal with that later #& instead of writing about a beautiful skinny white girl who is upset about eating carrots at inpatient #i would just force people to read/watch the things in this thread: #https://www.reddit.com/r/EDAnonymous/s/H1C3JZyvFK #because that’s the reality #the one comment in that thread ‘i ate something poisonous because i hoped it would make me puke’ #like yeah same. LOL. & i always thought i was the only one so fucked in the head #anyway society is very cruel to women and i need to do something about it. genuinely whereeee do i even begin #i guess i have been writing a lot abt my personal experience and all the disgusting things ppl like to avoid talking abt #and how my mother made me this way etc #i could def make a memoir out of it. maybe i’ll do that. #i would love to have more options than just. trauma porn. #ah anyway maybe i’ll open a nonprofit. IDK. i just need to make a lot of noise somehow

[solradguy]

Hitting someone with a level 3 Tyrant Rave in +R survival mode then winning the match with it has funny comedic timing but I don't think they meant it to be funny. The game says LET'S ROCK every time you level up in survival and Order Sol pauses between each hit of Tyrant Rave so it's like

TY-

Let's Rock!

-RANT

Let's Rock!

RAVE!!

Let's Rock!

SLASH!

You Win!

#textpost #HOS's lv3 Tyrant Rave hits 3 times for anyone who hasn't played +R #It's beautiful it's disgusting it's the love of my life and I know how to confirm into it

[thesunbrokeyourskull]

-

#I would kill my ex ‘p’ to become rich. #I would kill my ex ‘m’ to obtain even more beauty and attract even more people. #I would beat up my ex ‘b’ to the point of him almost dying to have a nice house and the best of the best of things. #I would beat up my bf ‘d’ to be more mentally stable so that I am balanced and at peace with myself and my life. #I would kill my ex ‘k’ to become a well known scholar who has many degrees in maths science and philosophy and to preform surgery&research #I would step on anybody to get to where I want to be in life if it meant making myself happy. #I just manipulated my bf into feeling bad for me because I genuinely just want to feel good and secure even if that’s at his expense. #he’s right.. I don’t care about anyone more than myself and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. why should I put someone above myself? #I’ll tell you what.. until someone can show me that being a good honest generous person can get me anywhere I’ll keep doing what works :) #grey god #puppets #and I genuinely just don’t like or care for others. there’s always something I want in return when it comes to relationships with others. #I find humans disgusting and faulty and I don’t care if I add to their pain because it’s usually to benefit me and if it doesn’t it’s to- #-get back at others for hurting me. or I’m bored. I probably have the most sick and twisted mind of anyone I know. I think people know that #-tho but they still keep me around and help me out whenever I need it. it’s all a show for me and for them. people are so stupid and they #-genuinely think doing the right think helps them. it doesn’t. it’s kind of sad. I just know that once ‘d’ realizes I’ve taken him for - #-everything he’s got it’ll be too late and he’ll have to deal with how much better I am than him and how much I’ve grown leeching off of- #-his emotional labor. I just jump from one person to another taking what I want and what I can. I don’t think I’ve genuinely loved anyone. #I’ve always been this way. I almost love people but then I just truly don’t. it’s more fun to see how far I can break them before #-they can’t do it anymore. I hope that everyone I’ve ever hurt continues to hurt forever and that they never grown or evolve. #’d’ told me tonight that I ruined his life. ‘b’ told me I ruined him. ‘m’ is a coward and he said he’ll never love again. #’k’ is a used up simple minded loser. ‘p’ is a stunted delusion addict with me issues for the rest of his life. notice I said me issues and #not daddy or mommy issues lol. I have tricked them all. they are all pathetic and whimpy fucks. #the day I grinded against ‘d’s sluty ass again after I ‘raped him’ he told me to go slow but it made me think.. what if I just raped him? #I could just do it and he won’t do shit about it. he’ll forgive me like always. he’s an insecure loser. I wanted to just take my dick- #and shove it down his throat and then ruin his hole with it #but I didn’t. I respected what he said but the fact that I thought about it isn’t good.

[yawnderu]

Adoration — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Content: fluff, pregnant!reader, horrible dad jokes.

Our small talk was quite big to me. You know I love you, yeah? My entire life, I always wanted the most simple things. A cup of tea, a normal family, nice food, to be loved and accepted. To find comfort in someone, for the first time ever.

"Earth to Simon." You say teasingly, a hand being waved slowly near his eyes, as if to see if he was focusing on you. He gives you a questioning look, raising a blonde eyebrow stained with eyeblack.

"Seemed a bit lost there." You give his cheek a kiss and you could swear you felt it heat up right after. He returns it, of course, giving you an overly wet kiss on the cheek that makes you recoil and scrunch up your face in mock disgust, dragging a quiet laugh out of him. The sound is beautiful, something your enamored brain can never fully process no matter how many times you hear it.

"I'm here." He replies, arms wrapping around your waist as he brings you closer to his naked body, one hand now gently holding the back of your head as your cheek touches his chest.

"I'm here." He repeats, voice quieter as he looks down at you. The image of you has always been the lens in which he can see the world with love. Reserved for you— his hand trails down, running down your skin delicately before settling on your tummy. —and the life growing inside of you.

"I've been thinking about retiring." He says it so casually you take a few seconds to process, blinking a few times before looking up at him with a mix of confusion and excitement in your face.

"Really?" He doesn't blame you for not believing it— hell, he doesn't even believe it himself. His whole life has been dedicated to putting his life on the line, what else can he do? He'll find something. Anything.

"Yeah." He confirms, planting a soft kiss on your forehead as his hand keeps gently holding your stomach, hoping he can feel the baby kicking.

"There's too much to lose now that I have my girls with me." And he doesn't wanna take the risk anymore. He wants to grow old with you, and he wants to see his girl grow. Maybe even have a couple more kids later on.

His words are met with a soft peck, your hand gently running through his short, bleached hair.

"Are you sure?" He doesn't even hesitate before nodding, bringing your naked body closer to his, wanting to feel everything he missed out on his whole life.

"Already spoke with the old man. Said he'd support me either way." He chuckled softly, thinking back on his conversation with Price. The man was barely 10 years older than him, yet in a way, he was a father figure for Simon. Someone to look up to, a mentor.

He still remembers the first time you and Simon confirmed you were together, and how Price promised to keep his lips sealed despite fraternization being frowned upon. Price knew it would happen either way, looking at the way Simon's eyes softened when you were introduced to the team. The way he was always next to you, paying special attention to you during missions despite knowing you're part of the 141 because you're a capable soldier. Price would tease him in private about his obvious crush on you and Simon would simply say he's seeing things because of dementia.

"Then I'll retire too." You confirm, and before he can open his mouth to protest, you keep talking.

"I'm not risking our girl growing up without a mother. Can't imagine forcing her to deal with your bad jokes alone." You tease and the corners of his lips tilt up, eyes glistening with... something. You know that look.

"No, don't st—" You try to get up from bed and he gently pulls you closer, the same smug smile on his lips that shows he knows he's about to do something awful.

"What do you call a fish wearing a bowtie?" You groan loudly and try to escape his grasp, a smile tugging at your lips as he holds you even closer, planting a bunch of kisses all over your face while you try your best not to giggle.

"Sofishticated." He says bluntly, looking down at you to see your reaction. You simply look away, trying to have a serious expression yet... his jokes are so bad they're funny. A small giggle escapes you before you're full on laughing, trying to move him away from you so you can escape the never ending nightmare of his dad jokes, his low laugh coming from somewhere behind you while he holds you closer, thinking of more jokes he read online just to tell you. You are the shelter in which I find strength to carry on. Thank you.

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost modern warfare #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #simon riley fluff #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #Simon ghost fluff #ghost fluff #mw2 fluff #ghost x female reader

[evergone]

Hey!! Idk know if you are taking requests right now but can you write a Theo x Hufflepuff reader imagine where the reader is always telling him to make friends from other houses. He finally does make friends but with a beautiful Ravenclaw and starts spending more time with her. The reader starts feeling insecure and ignores Theo. He soon realises that she is ignoring him and talks to her.

Btw I love your writing and can you please tag me if you do write it?

Too Friendly

Theodore Nott x reader

Warnings: Swearing, allusions to sex but no sex.

Description: The reader wants Theo to make more friends but when he does, she becomes insecure about their bond.

Sorry this took so long to get out, I'm in the middle of my final exams of high school so I don't have much time. I enjoyed writing this one. Thanks for the request @orphicmortala

“It’s sad, Theo, you’ve got, like, no friends!” You said as you tried your best to remember how to tie your yellow tie.

“What do you call Malfoy, then?” Theo asked from the bed.

“An accomplice,” you replied with that unique snark that Theo loved about you, “You need friends from other houses— Friends that aren’t just me.” You added those final words hastily before he could open his mouth in protest.

Theo rolled his eyes and beckoned you over. His hands glided over the folds of your tie with expertise, undoing the mess of a knot you’d created in order to do it up properly and perfectly. When he was done, he looked up at you with his gorgeous, oceanic eyes and the corners of his mouth where both his beautiful lips connected turned upwards. You uttered your thanks quietly as you resisted the primal urge to just not go to class at all and instead spend the whole day with him. Your mind wandered off to imagine being stuck between Theo’s checkered emerald sheets, but you brought it back to reality.

Fending off your lustful desires as well as a nun would, you bid adieu to Theo and hurried out of his room and the Slytherin common room. On your way out, you dodged the teasingly crude jokes and names that Theo’s friends tossed towards you and told Pansy that she was no better than yourself (you’d seen the way she snuck out of that empty classroom after Draco a couple days earlier, her hair and clothes all dishevelled and her thighs rubbing together uncomfortably).

The whole day, Theo dwelled on your words. While you weren’t exactly dating or in a relationship, he always found himself bound to your every word and every whim. You seemed to dictate his life in a way that you certainly shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but listen to you. So, in Arithmancy, he didn’t sit next to Blaise as he usually did, instead electing to sit with Lisa Turpin, a Ravenclaw girl he’d seen you talk to a few times.

She looked at him in confusion, “Did you need something?”

He withheld the instinct to say some snide remark and instead replied, “I thought I’d make a new friend today.”

“On some random Tuesday… in our Sixth year?” Her face contorted to expose her obvious disgust.

“Merlin’s cock and balls, I’m trying to be nice, Turpin!” Theo frowned and picked up his bag to go sit elsewhere.

Turpin grabbed his wrist as he stood up and her lips made a thin line as she pulled him back down to the seat. Her brows knitted together like a homemade sweater and she breathed out a sigh of defeat.

“No, it’s okay, sorry,” she said, “Sit here if you’d like.”

Over the next week, Theo made some serious efforts to get to know Turpin despite his friends’ obvious, loud verbal opposition. After that first Arithmancy class, Blaise had practically torn him to shreds with his massive speech on house loyalty and the horrible impact that you were clearly having on him. Daphne had recited the same speech her mother had given to her on her first day of her first year at school about how interrelations with students from the lesser houses was a gateway drug to blood sympathy (she’d given him the same speech when he started his little thing with you). And Pansy, Merlin’s beard, Pansy was furious.

Pansy had constructed this whole idea in her mind that you hated that Theo was talking to Turpin. She called it “cheating” which Theo had adamantly disagreed with. He wasn’t having sex with Turpin, in fact, he had absolutely zero romantic interest in her. He barely even liked her. The only thing the two had in common was Arithmancy and every time they hung out they talked about it until there was no more Arithmancy to talk about. It was, quite frankly, boring. Turpin was boring.

“It’s emotional cheating,” said Pansy in a huff as she and the others started towards the Great Hall for Monday breakfast.

“Emotional cheating?” Theo asked skeptically.

“Yes, Nott, emotional cheating,” she nodded, “And it’s hurting Y/n’s feelings. That’s why she hasn’t spoken to you all week.”

His gaze snapped to focus on Pansy whose black eyes were ablaze with the feminine rage of a girl’s best friend, “How do you know she hasn’t spoken to me all week?”

Pansy smirked, her honey red lipstick bright against her pale skin, and shrugged. She knew you hadn’t spoken to him all week because you wouldn’t shut up about it. In Divination on Wednesday afternoon, you’d all but assaulted Pansy with questions about Theo’s newfound interest in Turpin. All of which Pansy had no helpful responses to.

“Is he flirting with her?” You asked.

“Maybe, I don’t know, it’s not like they sit with us,” said Pansy, struggling to focus on the crystal ball with all your chatter.

“Why not? Why don’t they sit with you? Are they trying to be private?” You pushed almost frantically.

“Uh, possibly? Honestly, I just think he knows we don’t like her,” she explained.

“Why don’t you like her? Is she a bitch?” You frowned and then quickly added in a judgmental tone, “Or are you just being blood supremacists?”

“Is she a mudblood?” Pansy stopped working to stare at you.

You smacked her hand and she hissed, “I don’t know her that well. Don’t say that.”

When Theo and his friends finally arrived at the Great Hall, he searched the tables for your face. While most people usually stuck to their house’s table, you were a social butterfly and loved to flutter from table-to-table to talk to all of your many friends. Sometimes he wondered how you weren’t a prefect despite your popularity and the respect the younger years gave you. His eyes found Turpin first and she beamed and waved him over, but he blatantly ignored her. Pansy and Daphne watched on with delight as the girl cringed with embarrassment and turned back to her meal with bright red ears.

A spot of h/c hair floated above a robe lined with yellow and he abandoned his friends to go to you. You were standing at the end of the Hufflepuff table (not an unusual place to find you, but your favourite table was always the Slytherin one), and you were utterly consumed by a tale you were sewing for your housemates Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley.

“Y/n,” Theo spoke and his deep, smokey voice tore you straight out of your conversation, “Can we talk?”

Your eyebrows quivered and your blinking sped up as you took his appearance in for the first time all week. You hadn’t gone so long without speaking to him in at least three years (you got into an argument in your third year about the petrifications) and hearing his voice and seeing him so close was like throwing a former alcoholic into a sea of wine. There was nothing you wanted more than to indulge in him. But Hannah and Justin were glaring at him like hawks, or guard dogs, whichever was more intimidating.

“Um,” you glanced back at your friends and Hannah shook her head slightly, she’d never much liked Theo, “Sure.”

Hannah rolled her eyes and whispered something barely audible to Justin. Something about a “love-fucked pushover.” You ignored her. Theo took you to a pair of seats far from any prying ears and held your hands in his.

“You know I don’t like Turpin, right?” He said quietly.

You scoffed, “Yeah, right. And that’s why you spent all week with her.”

“I spent all week with her because you told me to!” He laughed with salt that spread itself over your wounded heart.

“Did I just? Because I really don’t remember saying ‘Hey, Theo, you know how I like you so much? I actually want you to go talk to another girl,’” you said sarcastically.

He held back a grin as best he could but the amusement glistened in his eyes and on his rosy, mole-spotted cheeks. His hand came up to your brow and massaged the frown out from between your eyebrows as you fluttered your eyelashes at him in the way you knew made him melt inside.

“I wanted to make friends for you,” he told you with that soft, romantic tone he used in bed.

“Don’t,” you ordered, “You’re Theodore Nott, you aren’t supposed to be friendly.”

For the first time in a week, he got a good look at you. He hadn’t realised how much he missed the sight of your h/l h/c hair and the way it framed your stunning face so perfectly that you appeared to have stepped right out of a portrait. He hadn’t realised how much he missed how your eyes, an elegant e/c and perpetually glossy as if always on the verge of tears, examined every centimetre of his face. He hadn’t realised how much he missed doing your tie up for you until he saw it tied like a bow around your neck.

“I’m friendly to you,” he said as his hands pulled at the end of the tie and it fell apart over your chest.

“And that’s all you need, I think,” you whispered pleasantly and pressed a loving kiss to his lips as he looped the tie around itself twice and pushed the end through the gap, tying it perfectly.

#theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theodore nott x reader #hp fandom #theo nott x y/n #slytherin x reader #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter x reader #theo nott imagine #theodore nott imagine #theo nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #regulus black x reader #tom riddle x reader

[viennakarma]

Say something (I'm giving up on you)

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: Your husband tells you the truth about Vegas, and it makes your perfect sandcastle crumble.

Word count: 6k

Tags: Female reader, established relationship, wife reader, reader is an architect, cheating, smut, mild somnophilia, mentions of pregnancy and children, very very angsty, no hea, not beta read

Relationships: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Notes: To be honest, this is very personal and something I needed to get off my chest before going back to my WIPs lol. Sorry if it's rushed or something, I was just going with the flow. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

Find me on Twitter!

Ending 1: moving on

Ending 2: forgiving

Ending 3: a secret third thing (blurb)

As soon as you got out of the shower, a robe on your body and a towel around your head, you noticed how Lewis was sitting there, looking somewhat defeated.

“Hey, I know this season wasn’t what you expected but I’m sure it will get better,” you muttered, noticing how he was down, you stood between his legs, holding his head, pushing his braids away from his face, “I’m hoping you’ll have a great car next year. I’ll put the kettle on, so we can drink a little tea.”

He didn’t answer as you pecked his lips and went downstairs. You had just turned the kettle on when Lewis came down too, stopping in the middle of the kitchen.

“I need to tell you something,” he started and you paused, waiting, “something happened in Vegas.”

You felt your heart accelerate, you didn’t like that tone, so instead of asking more, you just waited, holding your breath.

“I cheated.”

It’s like you were punched in the gut, and you gasped for air. Your eyes immediately teared up, but you held in, waiting for his next words. You held yourself up with both hands on the kitchen island, because your legs felt like they might just give in. You stared at him, numb. Waiting for it to be some sick and unfunny joke, but the guilt in his eyes was so real.

“It happened in Vegas, and it didn’t mean anything at all, and I’m so so sorry, I know I should never have done it, and I regret it. I love you so much, I never wanted to hurt you, please believe me, I’ll do anything for your forgiveness, whatever you want just say th-”

At that point you stopped listening, looking down at your hand sprawled on the countertop, the wedding band and the engagement ring you wore on top of it felt like they were burning, like a curse just about to ruin your perfect life.

Like a beautiful sandcastle crumbling under a big wave, your perfect life came crashing down, with a couple of words and one single decision that never came from you. Your plans, your dreams, your future that always had Lewis beside you now were turning to dust. And it hurt like fucking hell, like you were under the wreckage, something heavy compressing your chest leaving you to die an agonizing death.

Lewis walked up to you, trying to take your hand but you moved out of his reach, taking a step back.

“Please, just say something. Anything. Please, love. Scream at me, hit me, key my car, anything. Please, say something,” He begged you, and all you could feel was pain, a knot in your stomach as you walked away, numbly going back to your room, locking the door behind you because you could hear him coming after you.

You held your head, this feeling of despair gnawing your insides, and you pulled the wedding band and engagement ring out, leaving it at the bedside table. Your tears came down and you looked at the bed were you had made love on the night before, were you had fucked his brains out just because you wanted him to feel better, after being upset with how the season ended. He hid this information for more than a week, because you had been in Abu Dhabi with him for moral support. Crying, you pull off the bed sheets, leaving them on the floor when the knot in your stomach makes you too nauseous. Running to the bathroom, you puke your disgust away, crying and dry heaving after there was nothing left in your stomach.

You were going to leave your job next year because you two were planning to try for kids. You were going to dedicate yourself to finally writing your book. You were going to join him the whole season, to never leave his side, to go wherever he went. You were going to buy a place in his hometown too, to be close to his family whenever you two had the time. You had planned to have a baby in England, because of Lewis.

How after five years together, after two years of marriage you had crafted your life around his. How you’d drop everything to make him happy, because his happiness made you happy. He knew cheating was your only and strongest dealbreaker, you had told him countless times during your relationship, you had reminded him before the wedding too, and he had said he would never be interested in anyone else.

You pulled a towel from under the sink and sobbed into it. You could still hear his voice outside, muffled by the door. Going back to bed, you put your wedding band back again, staring at it as a token of your happiest years.

You cried yourself to sleep.

The next morning you woke up and did your morning routine in pain. It was like you had to live feeling the pulsating pain of a broken bone. As you opened the door, Lewis was sleeping on the hallway floor by the door. Avoiding him, you went to the kitchen, but you didn’t have the energy to cook anything, so you grabbed the key of one of his cars and left for a coffee shop.

Everything felt like an out of body experience, like you were in automatic mode, going with the flow, buying a muffin and a tea because that’s what you did every time. Greeting the waitress with a small smile, like always. The only difference was going back to the car instead of eating inside the cafe, and eating there, pushing food inside so you could have some resemblance of normalcy. Your phone had been ringing for the past thirty minutes non stop, the ringtone you had put specifically for him, the song you had your first dance in your wedding. You think about that Lewis, that man who would never do anything that could hurt you. The one with dreams and promises, the man who would say he wanted kids with you, the one who always had a description of the kids you would have. She’ll have your eyes and my hair, he would say, daydreaming, hopefully she’ll have your beautiful smile, Lew, you would add.

Driving around for a while, your phone on Do not disturb, you watched the streets of Monaco, bustling with people, locals and tourists, walking around, going to boutiques and cafés, and you noticed how Monaco had never been your first choice to live in. You would rather a place a little bit colder, with lots of libraries and historical places, with mountains and lakes.

You went back home hours later, and as soon as you got inside, you were faced with Lewis, pale and visibly worried, phone in hand.

“Oh my god, I was so worried! I thought- I thought you had left me- Where were you?”

“Driving” you kicked your shoes and went to the kitchen to drink water. After downing two full glasses, you went outside, sitting by the view of the city.

You painfully loved him, the kind of love you once were happy to let yourself dive in, and now you were drowning.

“Please, can we talk about it?” He asked, by the balcony door as if he were afraid to scare you away like a skittish animal. You nodded, and he carefully sat on the chair beside you. “Can we work on it? Do you think you may have it in your heart to forgive me?”

“I don’t know, Lewis, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

“We can do marriage counseling, we can do anything you want, we can- we can move, buy another place, we can adopt a kitten, like you’ve always wanted, or we can renew our vows, I can gi-give you a pass, so we’ll be even-”

“I honestly don’t know how to fix this, Lewis. I’m not sure it’s even fixable.”

You two stared into the horizon, lost in thoughts.

“Give me a chance, and I’ll fix it, love. I’ll do everything in my power to fix it.”

“Tell me what happened,” you commanded, not looking at him.

“Love, please, don’t do this.”

“You want to fix this, right? Then start by telling me the whole truth.”

And he did. He told you who was, Kate-something, an influencer who had been a fling of his from the past, before you. They had met unexpectedly during the Vegas Grand Prix, she had been invited by some other team. He told you almost everything, leaving out details about the sex, but he told you everything else, and you listened, unmoved, only the tears falling down nonstop.

The next couple of days consisted of Lewis buying you things, food, jewelry, clothes and planning a trip for after the holidays. You slept in your room, and Lewis slept in the guest room, giving you space, to whenever you were comfortable to share a bed with him again. You had every meal together, sometimes he cooked, sometimes he had it delivered. You tried to engage in conversation, but in the end, Lewis was doing most of the talking. Chatting about news of his friends, about his team, about the plans for the trip.

As you sat in the office, you opened a drawer and picked up your resignation letter. You had left it written to hand it when you got back from the holidays. The letter was brief, thanking everyone for the opportunity to work at their company, thanking your boss for all the lessons and explaining you were leaving to become a homemaker. You scoffed at it now, ripping the letter in half and throwing it in the trash.

Maybe you needed to take a step back from everything. The plans and the dreams and the future. Maybe you just needed to give him a chance, you loved him so much, and this kind of love doesn’t go away with a snap of the fingers.

Maybe he was right and if you two started all over, maybe you could fix this.

“I know it might be too soon, but would you consider going on a date? Just like the old times,” he asked one morning a few days later, as you ate breakfast.

“Sure, Lewis.”

He nodded, and you knew he was feeling the way you didn’t call him love or honey anymore. He planned a date that same night. You dressed up to the nines, just to feel some normalcy, just to feel like yourself again. You had dressed in a black long sleeved dress, with some transparency in the sleeves, a black scarpin and you tied your hair in an elegant high ponytail and those bright red lipsticks Lewis liked.

He looked at you in wonder as you came down the stairs.

“You look stunning, my love.” He whispered, taking your hand and making you spin. You felt that spark in your stomach again, well, a little bit of that.

He took you to a two star restaurant, one you’d always go on date nights. He also drove you there in your favorite Mercedes. You decided to put in the effort, to make conversation, to engage with him the whole night. You ate, talked, laughed and drank a couple of wine glasses.

By the end of the night, you had felt a resemblance of normalcy again. When Lewis was picking the tab, you went to the toilet, and you saw a woman trying to change a baby’s diaper. She dropped the box of wet wipes, and you bent down to pick it.

“Thank you, lovely!” She said as you handed it back. You peeked at the baby, a little girl who couldn’t be older than a year.

“Hi there, princess!” You said with a baby voice.

“Can you keep an eye on her just as I pee quickly, I’m sorry to bother,” the mother asked.

“Don’t worry,” you said, carrying the baby she had just finished changing. As the woman entered the stall, you decided to ask, “How has it been, being a mom?”

“Oh, it’s amazing. Of course it’s not easy, but my husband has been a great help around the house and the baby. I couldn’t be happier!”

You looked to the mirror, the baby in your arms, and you imagined living this with Lewis. And you just couldn’t. Because he wouldn’t be there all the time anyway. He would be traveling the world, racing for his championship, you would follow him, but at some point you would have to stop, you would have to settle home the last trimester, and he wouldn’t be there. Would he miss your baby’s birth?

You wondered if he would cheat again when you weren’t there.

As you left the toilet, your mood had dwindled again.

Lewis noticed as you were quiet going home, head against the window, watching the city and mumbling the song playing in the car.

As you arrived home, you pushed Lewis against the sofa, he looked confused, but his eyes followed your hands as you pulled your dress up, bunching it around your hips so you could straddle his lap.

“Baby, I don’t think w-” he started talking, but you held his chin.

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, pressing your lips against his.

You kissed him like you were starved, showing him how much you missed him, how much you loved him. He let you guide the kiss, opening your mouth and entangling your tongues, your hips grinding on him. He whispered nonsense as he kissed your face and neck, I missed you so much, love, nibbling at your neck, I love you my baby, pulling your dress down to free your tits, sucking on your nipples, missed this, baby, you’re so fucking sexy, you ground on him, moving and moaning as his hand held your ass, guiding your movements. You were so wet, you missed his touch so much.

As you looked down, seeing his lips latched onto your nipple, your mind drifted, wondering if he touched the other woman like this, if he talked dirty to her like that.

And you were immediately turned off.

“Stop, stop,” you pushed him and he let you go easily, scrambling to the sofa and away from his lap, “red, red!” You shouted your safe word.

Breathless, Lewis nodded, as you quickly pulled the cups of your dress up, covering your boobs and pulled your dress down, eyes watering. He stared at you, confused and not knowing how to act. You two were very creative in the bedroom, but you only used the safe word a few times whenever you two were in the mood for some BDSM scenes, you had never used your safe word in a normal setting.

“Are you ok?” He asked, finally and you just shook your head.

“Was she better than me?” You asked, voice small and vulnerable.

“What? Baby, no, never! You’re my everything.” He sat by your side, but you stood up in wobbly legs, nervous.

You wanted to ask why, if you were enough, if you were everything, then why he felt the need to do it. Why would he throw away so many years, such a beautiful love story that you used to joke you would tell your grandkids about.

You started walking away, but Lewis ran up to you and blocked your path.

“Please, let’s talk it out,” He asked, eyes pleading. You stared at his lips, and something inside you just snapped.

“I don’t want to talk! FUCK!” You pushed past him, “I look at you and I can only picture you with her! I feel your hands on my body and I hate it because I can only think of you touching her, and kissing her and fucking making love to her! Look at us! Look at everything you ruined because you just couldn’t not get your dick wet! Because you couldn’t wait five fucking days for me!”

You tried not to sob, running a hand over your face.

“And you were perfect and I love you, and I hate myself for loving you because I don’t trust you! I keep thinking that if one day I miss the flight to your race, will you cheat again? If- if I have to work and you suddenly feel lonely, will you cheat again? If we fight for some reason, will you cheat again?”

“We can fix this, we go to counseling or-

“FIX WHAT? I didn’t break anything! Because I love you so much that the idea of lying with another man disgusts me! You broke my heart, our home and our future!”

He was crying too when you looked at him.

You took the keys to his car and slipped away, driving around, trying to clear your head. Deep down you wished you could forgive and forget, you wished you could get over that mistake, but now everything around the house reminds you of his mistake.

You lost control of the car and crashed against a tree. It wasn’t a big crash, even though the hood of the car looked totalled. You called someone to take the destroyed car away, and you took an Uber to the hospital, just to make sure you didn’t hit your head too hard. In the hospital, they put a bandaid on the small cut and you held an ice pack above the swelling in the side of your forehead, they also gave you a few pills for the pain and possible headache.

You went back home hours later, and Lewis was waiting by the living room.

“Where were-” he stopped short, seeing the small cut on your forehead, “oh, god, what happened?”

“I crashed your car, I’m sorry. It wasn’t a big deal, I’m ok,” you walked into the kitchen to take one of the pills for the incoming headache.

“What? Why didn’t you call me?” Lewis followed you.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” you repeated calmly.

“Are you kidding me? You’re bleeding!”

“I’m not, it was just a small piece of glass that grated my forehead, but I’m ok, it doesn’t really hurt,” you muttered, wanting to go to sleep, “I’m sorry about your car, I’ll pay to get it fixed.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the car! I’m worried about you!” He came closer, holding your face with both hands, looking around for any more injuries.

You stared at his face, his eyes that had been such a source of happiness and unconditional love were now painful to see. Handsome still, but you couldn’t see him as yours anymore. You took his hands off you gently.

“I’m ok. I’ll pay for your car.” You reinforced, taking a step back.

“Our car, love. You’re my wife. And you don’t have to pay for it.” He corrected you, but you couldn’t feel anything.

Because the car was his. All the cars were his. The house was his, too. The dog was his. The properties. Everything belonged to him. You belonged to him the whole time. And now you just didn’t anymore.

You had signed a prenup before the wedding, which had been an idea that came from Lewis’ lawyer. Your husband had been angrily against it, but you didn’t mind signing it, because it was never about the money. Even upset signing the prenup, Lewis still took all of your expenses, bills, house and cars, and everything else. There was a cheating clause on that document, one you never bothered to read or memorize because cheating was never on your mind.

A couple of days later you had barely said a word to him, and you were having breakfast when he approached you.

“I’ll call mum later, to tell her we’re not going to her birthday dinner,” Lewis informed you.

“No, we’re going. We’re not going to spoil her celebration because of our problems,” you shook your head.

So you went to dinner at his mom’s. Everyone was there and you brought her a gold necklace with a peony pendant, since it was her favorite flower. You and Lewis tried to pretend nothing was wrong as to not ruin the mood of the night. You still sat by his side, ate and talked with everyone. Lewis knew you were faking being ok, because your smiles didn’t reach your eyes anymore, and every time he tried any physical touch like holding hands, putting a hand on your shoulder or pulling you to his lap, your body would tense up, so he would let go of you.

By then end of the night, you were pretty sure everyone had believed your act, but when Carmen asked for help with taking her presents upstairs, you knew she knew too.

“What is going on, love? You’re not your usual self today.”

You felt your eyes filling up and you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You adored Carmen, you adored Lewis’ family, his siblings, his parents and his nephews and nieces. But Carmen had become a second mum to you from the beginning, being the first person to welcome you with open arms.

“Talk to me, dear,” she asked and the kindness in her voice made you cry even more, sobbing so much she had to hug you holding you tight.

“This is probably the last time we’ll see each other as family, Carmen,” you warned her, and her face crumbled just like yours did.

“No… No, honey, what happened?” She asked, and you shook your head.

“You talk to him later, and I’m sure he will tell you whenever he’s ready,” you muttered, not wanting to meddle in a mother-son relationship, not wanting to poison it. You pulled the engagement ring from your finger, the beautiful engraved jewel, that had belonged to Carmen's family for generations, had ended up with you, and you had expected to pass it down to a kid you’d have with Lewis. You gave the ring back to her.

“For when he finds the one.”

“No, you’re the one for him, honey,” she exclaimed, teary eyed.

“I wish I was, but I’m not,” you stared longingly at the ring sitting on the palm of her hand.

“One day he will need it again, and he will find someone and you’ll love her just as much. I’ll be just the distant past, but I hope you save a little space in your heart for me, yeah?” You laughed a little bit, wiping the tears on your cheeks. She only nodded, her own tears falling down. “Thank you for taking me in all these years, for embracing me into your family, I’m very grateful for that.”

You two cried a little more, and you tried to mask your crying face after a few minutes in the bathroom.

In the end, unfortunately, Lewis' family convinced you to stay the night since it would be a long drive back to Lewis’ place in London. You ended up sharing a bed for the first time since he admitted to cheating. You laid there with your back turned to him in the dark.

You couldn’t sleep for a couple of hours, but he did. When you turned back around, you stared at his beautiful face. Your dreamy, handsome husband. You softly traced imaginary lines in his face, tracing his eyebrows and nose, the tip of your finger running over his lips and cupids’ bow. How could you love someone so deeply and still not want to be with them? How could you not just put everything behind?

He knew you so well, he knew of you past of being cheated on, of going through abusive relationships. He knew where you draw the lines. He knew your limitations and still went ahead with cheating on you.

You got up from the bed, you went to the small armchair, opening your iPad to try and watch a movie or something to help you sleep. But as you unlocked it, the tab open was the project you had made for the family home you and Lewis were going to build for when you had kids. The finished project hit you like a punch in the gut.

You went inside the bathroom and took a break. It was the middle of the night, and everyone was asleep, so you just sat on the closed toilet to try and calm down the aching pain in your chest. When you came back, Lewis was awake going through your iPad you had left unlocked.

“What’s- What’s this?”

“It’s the project for our home, I was going to gift it to you on your birthday,” you whispered, sitting by his side on the floor, your backs to the bed.

Lewis sniffled, and you didn’t look at his face because you didn’t want to see him cry. He kept looking at the project, going page after page, seeing all the details you had thoughtfully put there. He started crying even harder when he saw the nurseries you had designed. When he saw the tennis court, because you and him loved playing with his dad, and talked countless times about teaching your kids to play. When Lewis saw the big kitchen with the panel wall where you could place pictures and drawings and notes. When he saw the sunroom, with toys and your small library, and Lewis’ videogames. All the tidbits you and him had dreamed about during your five years relationship.

“We can’t let this all go, love” he said between soft cries.

“God, I hate metaphors,” you whispered, drying the tears that came down, “but we’re a broken mirror, Lewis. We can try and fix it, and glue all the pieces back together, but the cracks will still be there.”

“I don't know how I messed up this badly, I don’t even know why-” he set the iPad down, staring at his hands, “I’m so sorry, so so sorry.”

You only nodded, getting up. You went back to bed, laying under the covers.

“I know,” you whispered after a few minutes. He came back to bed too, laying beside you without touching you.

“The project is beautiful. I love it.” He muttered staring at the ceiling.

“I do too.”

When you left his mom’s house, with a tight goodbye hug with Carmen, Lewis had to go to Brackley for work and you went back to Monaco. 

You thought you may have a chance to fix everything. But as the days he was away passed, you started to wonder if he went to England to really work. If he wasn’t going to meet someone, the Kate-something, or any other of his flings from the past. If he even was in Brackley as he said he was.

The trust was gone.

As if it wasn’t bad enough as it was, the lady, Kate-something texted you. You had no idea how she got your number, and the text read:

“Ask your husband what he did after the Las Vegas GP.”

You scoffed, thinking she was a little late for a shocking revelation. You screenshotted the text just in case and blocked her number after, without bothering to let Lewis know about it.

You were one foot out of the door already.

The dreaded day came when you met with a lawyer, a big shot famous lawyer who always worked with famous people when they wanted a low profile divorce. She was very respectful of all your wishes, though with the small fortune you were going to pay for her services, being polite and helpful was the least she could do. She drafted a divorce agreement following all your requirements, especially in regards to the prenup.

The next few days, you read and reread the divorce papers, leaving them in the locked drawer in your office.

When Lewis came back from the Mercedes factory, it was night and you were having a glass of wine by the balcony.

“Want a nightcap?” You offered your glass to him. He nodded, taking a sip off the half full glass, “how was work?”

He told you about all the work in the factory, going to dinner with his teammate and meeting with his boss. It was almost like before, for a few minutes it was just a regular day in your married life. Lewis helped you put everything away in the kitchen and you went upstairs.

When he was about to go into the guest room, you stopped him.

“Lewis,” you asked and he looked at you hopefully, “can you sleep with me tonight?”

“Whatever you want, love.”

So you settled in for sleep, both of you going through your nightly routine, and finally, laying in bed. You took the initiative to cuddle him, nose against his neck, inhaling his scent and your ear above his heart.

You slept great for the first time since you were in separate beds. But you woke up in the middle of the night. And the way the little lampshade by the bedside table lit up the side of his face, peacefully asleep, handsome and yours. Fully yours still.

You couldn’t help the small kiss on his chest, above his heart, the other kiss on his cheek, and a third one on his neck, that had him waking up.

“Baby?” Lewis looked at you. You kissed his lips, open mouthed, sloppy and desperate.

“Shh,” you kissed his chest again, now he was fully awake, surrendered under your touch. You straddled him, your body missing him so much, his touch and his love, and the twilight making everything feel like before, you couldn’t help but desire him with burning passion.

“Love,” he stopped you, holding your jaw softly, “are you sure?”

“Please, just be mine tonight, yeah?” You asked him in a small voice.

“I’m yours forever, love.”

And so you drowned in him, one last time. You tossed your pajamas away, as he sat up in the bed, kissing your neck down, biting softly at your nipples, taking it painfully slow just in case you changed your mind. You ground against him, his cock hard under your ministrations. You pulled his pants down, and he kicked it to the floor, as you slid your cunt over his length, dripping over him, moaning loud and hearing his groans as his hands settled on your hips, letting you take control, doing whatever you wanted.

You got on your knees just so you could line him up at your entrance, pushing down slowly, letting him stretch you well, your body accommodating him perfectly like it should always be. And so you started riding him, slowly at first, but then you pounded him into the mattress, fucking him into oblivion. His hands were all around, pinching your nipples, gripping your waist and slapping your ass the way he knew drove you crazy. He fingered your clit, making you cum around his cock shamelessly fast, hips shaking and cunt gripping him tight.

“Can- oh, fuck,” he asked after a particularly hard clench of your dripping cunt, “-Can you give me one more, my baby?”

Then, he changed positions, laying you by his side, hugging you with one arm and using the other to lift your leg so he could have room to fuck you slow, lazy and nice, pressing your g-spot again and again. He smothered your lips with his tongue and teeth, stealing your moans, as your hands pressed his body into yours. You wanted to melt into him, to leave fingerprints and nail marks all over him. You wanted him to have a permanent indentation of your body pressed to his.

Selfishly, you wanted him to never forget you. To be a part of him in the forever he promised you. Even if you won’t be there.

“Look at me,” he asked, and you opened your eyes to meet his dark molten embers so full of love that it threatened to suffocate you, “you’re the only woman for me. You’re my everything.”

He picked up the pace a little, going harder, until he had you gushing around him, making a mess of your sheets and milking him until he was groaning, hips stuttering into release.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good. Feel so good for me,” he murmured into the dark, “I love you so so much.”

You two hugged back to sleep.

In the morning you showered, brushed your teeth and changed. You stopped in the middle of the room, staring at Lewis’ sleeping form. In the closet you packed a bag, putting clothes and shoes on it, then you grabbed your iPad, laptop and work stuff, then you called a taxi and waited.

You left the divorce agreement on the kitchen island, alongside your wedding band, your lawyer’s contact information and a small note. You were crying as you got into the taxi, leaving behind the future plans you had hoped to live.

It took you a couple of months to get your shit together. You spent Christmas with your family only for the first time in years, and you didn’t travel for New Year’s Eve with Lewis as planned, you didn’t resign from your job, instead opting for a relocation so you could move away.

Finding a new place in Scotland was relatively easy considering you had a good amount of savings because Lewis always paid all the bills, you found a place where you could dedicate yourself to work and to write your book and to heal.

•

Lewis found the house empty that next morning. You had made love to him again, and he thought that maybe you two could salvage the marriage. But as he looked for you around the house, he found the divorce agreement in the kitchen. His stomach dropped as he held your wedding band, and the other hand found your note.

“Seems like I’m a coward too, since I can’t face you to say goodbye. Take this divorce agreement to your lawyer, and any questions you might have, please forward it to my lawyer, she’ll explain everything. I love you, but I don’t trust you. And nothing good can be built in a trustless marriage. The next time you find a good one, don’t break her heart.”

He cried like a baby, going over your divorce agreement that was signed by you. You had given up everything, you didn’t want anything of his, not any cars or property, not any financial support, not even the house that had your name on it too. You voided the prenup, stating that you didn’t want the alimony that came with the cheating clause. Looked like a clean break, like you didn’t want anything that could tie you to Lewis.

He tried calling you and texting you, but seemed like you had blocked him on everything. He went through the motions, meeting with your lawyer who, despite the fame of being tough, was really kind to him. He told your lawyer that he wanted you to take the alimony that came with the cheating clause because it was only fair, and he wouldn’t sign the divorce if you didn’t accept the money.

So after a few weeks, Lewis' lawyer got in contact to tell him you accepted the money, as long as he would sign the divorce as soon as possible. By the New Year, you were officially a divorced couple.

•

You got settled on your new home by the end of the first month of the year, three weeks after the divorce was finalized. You moved to a little north of Edinburgh, not too far from the city, but far enough that you could have some sense of peace and privacy.

You still had a tan line on your ring finger of the left hand.

You only realized your period was late the week later, as you were doing grocery shopping and house supplies, and you noticed you haven’t got your period for a while. Despite being a grown woman, worker and independent, you felt shaky fingers as you took a pharmacy test.

While you waited, you stayed in front of the mirror. You had felt a bit of nausea, but you attributed it to stress and disgust, and you had been feeling tired but you thought it was because of the moving and all the paperwork. You ran your palm over your stomach, trying to feel something, but it felt so normal.

When the time’s up and you leaned over the sink to check the result, you sighed reading the 8 - 10 weeks pregnant.

“That’s ok, baby,” you whispered, teary eyed, “we’re gonna be ok.”

Ending 1: moving on

Ending 2: forgiving

Ending 3: a secret third thing (blurb)

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #formula 1 #formula one #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton +18 #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #Spotify

[verstappen-cult]

gonna take up on the request opening bc i love these lil blurbs you do with your moodboards! maybe "how they defend you online" esp charles and lando but if you feel like adding others its up to you !!

THE BOYS DEFENDING YOU FROM ONLINE HATE | F1 GRID

★ — LANDO NORRIS (4)

lando was streaming when you came home one day. once he heard the front door being closed and then your footsteps, he excused himself with his friends and viewers and went to greet you. when he came back, there were several texts from his friends letting him know of some not-so-friendly comments about you. suddenly, lando had something else to do and ended the whole thing. he did not tell you anything, lando simply waited until his next stream for what he wanted to do. it was very simple and definitely something lando would do; and staring right into the camera lando let the world know that if they don’t support his relationship, then he just doesn’t want their support at all. from then on, lando just blocked everyone who didn’t have anything good to say. you’re the most important person in his life, how can anyone hate you? and so, lando made a promise to himself: show the world the amazing girl you are.

★ — CHARLES LECLERC (16)

even way before you started dating charles, receiving hateful comments and messages was a common occurrence. of course your boyfriend knew about it, everyone could see what was happening just by choosing a random picture on your instagram and reading the replies. it was sad, awful. but you didn’t want charles to do anything, you stopped him a lot of times because you didn’t want to bring too much attention into the whole thing. charles loves you and that is all that matters to you. it was, well, okay… until things became a little to real, a little too much, and charles couldn’t sit back and do nothing. so with a little bit of help from his team, he managed to write a very good and long statement about the whole thing. there were mixed opinions but things quiet down a little. and you weren’t happy at first, but something as simple as seeing your comment section hate-free made you forgive him sooner.

★ — OSCAR PIASTRI (81)

oscar is a man of very few words and never engages in online drama or gossip. if and when he’s online, oscar just wants to see cute and funny videos. he’s a formula one driver and people should only be interested in that part of his life, but he knows that will never be the case. however, he’s still surprised to see various comments around twitter about you. they are not about how beautiful or intelligent you are or how happy you seem to make oscar with your pretty smile and sense of humor – not that they would know that. not that they deserve to know that, either. some part of him wants to reply to those people who definitely don’t know you, he’s angry, disgusted. and the rational part of him tells him to simply don’t say anything because they don’t deserve it. so, oscar just clicks to make a new tweet and begins with a simple phrase “you don’t know anything about me or my life…” and so on. maybe he sounded a little harsh, maybe things will get worse; he couldn’t care less, as long as you’re not mad with him, he can live with being the center of the drama. oscar will never let anyone disrespect you.

★ — MAX VERSTAPPEN (33/1)

max doesn’t care what people think and have to say about him, that ship has sailed a long time ago. but he can’t ignore when people say mean things about you, he just can’t, so, he doesn’t. max replies to every single tweet and comment on both his and your instagram that he sees, he goes directly to the point and if he’s mean then, who cares? maybe it’s a little bit childish but he doesn’t care, max will not allow anyone to talk shit about his girl. and if he needs to make a video or do an interview or whatever he needs to do to make people understand that you are part of his life and forever will be, then he will be more than happy to do them. max is almost never online, so when all of this happens he makes sure to make time to be online, to post a picture of you on his instagram story, to post a photo of your vacation together on his feed, to say how much he loves you via twitter, to mention you when he has the chance during an interview. he loves making you blush and seeing you trying to hide your smile when you see all those things. max also loves pissing people off.

★ — ALEX ALBON (23)

alex tries to be friendly. when he sees someone say something not good about his girlfriend, he doesn’t hesitate to prove them wrong and defend you. he knows you’re more than capable of doing it and has seen you doing it before; he loves it. but there’s this something inside of him trying to break free and just let everyone know the funny, pretty, amazing, kind girl he’s lucky to call his girlfriend. so, alex lets it free and goes liking, retweeting and replying to every single comment about you and how shiny and nice your hair is, how you seem to make alex so happy and how he’s always smiling around you (he makes sure to let them know why is that), how lucky alex is to have you by his side, and so on and on and on until there’s nothing more for him, until he can’t think about the mean things people said, until you are laughing next to him and calling him obsessed and kissing him like your life depends on it.

★ — DANIEL RICCIARDO (3)

daniel chooses a catchy song and changes some of the lyrics, then sets his phone down and sits with a big smile and his guitar. when the video starts, he simply says “this is dedicated to all of the assholes thinking that is okay to hate on someone’s girlfriend just because.” and then he starts singing. there are a lot of bad words and cursing and long pauses looking directly into the camera without losing that big and pretty smile he has. daniel then uploads the video to all his platforms with a little paragraph about why bullying is bad and why you should mind your own business because he’s not that interesting anyway and it won’t make him break up with you because some trolls are practically begging him to. he ends up getting in trouble for not consulting with his team before doing what he did, something that has him going viral, so viral that people outside of formula one and people who don’t even who he is talk about it. exactly what he wanted.

★ — MICK SCHUMACHER (47)

the moment mick has to hold you in his arms as you cry because you’d read something mean about you, it’s the exact moment he decides to do something about it. he doesn’t want to cause drama or make things worse, so, it takes him a little while and some long calls with his sister to know what to do. mick puts the poetry classes you two take a few months ago to good use and writes the most beautiful and romantic poem you and everyone would ever read. it is about you, about his love for you, about what you mean to him and everything he likes about you. he posts a little phrase to his instagram stories and sets a time and day for when it will be posted it. when the day cames and you get to read it, you end up crying again but for a whole different reason. it’s not that you didn’t know mick loved you but it’s the gesture, the time he spent doing it, the fact that he wanted to do it and wanted the whole world to read his love letter to you, something that will forever be there.

© VERSTAPPEN-CULT ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱ #f1 grid x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fluff #max verstappen fluff #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo blurb #alex albon x reader #mick schumacher x you #alex albon imagine #oscar piastri fanfic

[norrizzandpia]

Can you please write exes to lovers angst with lando

Y’all know the way to my heart with these angst requests

A Second Chance (LN4)

Summary: Secrets are a hard thing to live with, they always come out in the end. When it comes to Y/n and Lando, their loved ones struggle to understand what occurred between the two when both of them refuse to discuss it. What happened that night that warranted two people so in love to separate? What triggered Lando to become so violent, so hostile? Why is there a lone engagement ring lingering in Lando’s apartment when it’s meant to rest on Y/n’s finger? What’s happened?

Warnings: lots of fights, language, literal screaming matches, lando breaking y/n’s heart while he’s drunk, this ones hella rough when it comes to angst, whata rollercoaster, HAPPY ENDING THO YALL JUST BUCKLE UP FOR THE RIDE AND TRUST ME

Note: i decided to really play with y’all here because you don’t end up knowing what caused them to breakup until the very end, so enjoy 6,000 words of subtle hints and you on the edge of your seat bc I’m evil 😚

Some things were better left unsaid. That’s the mantra Lando repeated to himself every time he felt the urge to pick up the phone and pour his heart out to the girl he let get away.

Some things are better left unsaid.

Some things are better left unsaid.

Some things are better left unsaid.

He was sick of the words, wanting to rip them out of his mind, out of his mouth every time he uttered their syllables. His thumb laid so close to her phone number, he was frightened one wrong move would make the decision for him.

All he saw, not just in that moment but every moment, was her face as he spewed off words of anger, violent insults that held no truth to them.

He wanted to apologize, yearned to hear her breathing as he said the things he had rehearsed in the mirror for God knows how long. There was blood on his hands, her blood, the blood of her being when he killed her spirit and the character he had fallen in love with. He couldn’t live with that.

Couldn’t live with the knowledge he had destroyed the beauty of her happiness, the beauty of who she had been.

Selfish, maybe, but he called her anyway. Whether the apology was for her or for him, he wasn’t sure, he just needed to know she knew that he never meant for those things to tumble from his mouth. He never meant to tear her down when he had spent the entirety of their relationship building her up.

The ringing sounded, it blaring loudly in the quiet of his room. He stared at her contact photo, he never changed it. The picture was one his friend had taken of her as she gazed upon him at the Silverstone Grand Prix, when he got his podium. She was smiling up, looking at him as if he held her entire life right in the palm of his hands.

She had loved him, put her heart in his hands, and he had thrown it back in her face like he was disgusted by it.

His mind was taken back to the moment when, after one ring, the call went straight to voicemail.

Fuck it, he thought, I’ve already called her once.

So, he tried again.

One ring, then voicemail.

Again.

One ring, then voicemail.

Again.

One ring, then voicemail.

By the end of his calling spree, he was sitting up in his bed, the sheets falling down his toned chest as he stared at the brightness emitting from his phone. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he searched up why he was only getting one ring.

The answer that popped up stopped the world around him. He threw his phone down to the side, it falling harshly onto the floor. He stormed from his bed, ripping open his door and throwing on a random hoodie strewn about his couch. His eyes glazed over as he tied his shoes and left the apartment, beginning to run. His running was in vain, however, as he was only trying to run from the thing that got him into this situation. Himself.

The phone stayed behind, lingering on the floor with its screen cracked yet still displaying what had set Lando off in the first place.

The Google search engine painfully informed him of Y/n blocking him.

—

“How have you been since the breakup?” Max said softly, looking at his best friend with gentle eyes.

Lando looked down to his lap, “I’m doing fine. Getting by.”

Max’s quietness lingered like he knew something.

“What is it?” Lando asked spitefully, sick of feeling like his loved ones were tip toeing around him.

Max sighed, “You’re not sleeping.”

“How do you know that?”

“Life360 shows me where you’ve gone in the last twenty-four hours, Lando. It also gives me notifications when you leave your house. At first, I wanted to stay out of it, but you’re doing it every night, going to random parks and staying there for hours. What are you doing?”

Lando smacked his hand on the table out of frustration, strangers sat close to them glancing over suspiciously, “So, you’re monitoring me now?”

Max scoffed, “Yeah! Your family and your friends are worried for you.”

“Well, don’t.” Lando gave him a pointed look.

Max shoved his face into his hands, “It’s not that fucking easy, Lando. Everyone thought you two were going to get married. You had a ring. Then, all of a sudden, you two ended. The people that love you are obviously going to be wondering about you when shit like that comes out of left field.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Lando began, face heating up, “You don’t think I look at the engagement ring everyday and wonder where I would be today? Maybe engaged to her like I had always wanted? You don’t think I know this shit? You don’t think I have to live with it, sleep with it, exist with it?”

It dawns on Max as he listens to Lando’s every word, “You’re going for walks in the night? To get away from thinking about it when you’re trying to sleep? Trying to distract yourself?”

Lando’s eyes look down once more, “Running. I’ve been running.”

In a rare form of physical affection, Max leans over and lays his hand over his friend’s, “What happened that night?”

Lando flinches, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

His hand is heavy on top of Lando’s as he tries again, “Lando, I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand. What the fuck happened? When are you going to be comfortable talking about it? It’s been five months.”

Something fiery triggers within Lando and Max knows it’s the reminder of how long he’s gone without her, “I know how fucking long it’s been.”

At the gridded teeth and hostile tone, Max relents. He sits back in his chair just when Lando’s gaze is caught behind him. His head turns to see what’s got Lando and he’s met with a woman that looks identical to Y/n.

He breathes out, turning back around to tilt his head at his best friend. Max opens his mouth to say something, but Lando interrupts him by the loud screech of his chair being pushed away from him.

He watches in horror and disappointment as Lando walks over to the woman and begins flirting with her. That smile, which was once reserved only for Y/n, is now exploited to get one singular taste of something like her, however fleeting.

In no time, Lando’s trading numbers with her and returning to the table. He sees the way Max looks at him, an expression that makes him hate himself more, and picks up his things, “If you’re not going to support me, sit across from me and patronize me for everything that’s happened, then I’m fucking out.”

Max laughs in disbelief, “Lando, I don’t know what the fuck happened! Maybe if I did, I could actually help you instead of this fucked up coping mechanism you’ve developed of sleeping with women that look like her.”

Lando snarls at him, stomping off and out of the establishment, texting the new number he’d gained immediately and asking when they were free to come to his apartment.

Max watches him through the window, anger at him dissipating and worry taking over once more for the boy he used to know.

The waitress comes by and drops the check off, three digits staring back at Max.

—

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO INVITE HER!” Lando screams at Charlotte, nostrils flaring as he shoots daggers into her soul.

“WHAT’S THE FUCKING PROBLEM? CAN’T FUCKING FACE YOU EX OF EIGHT MONTHS?!” Charlotte yells.

Lando counters, “YOU KNOW I FEEL ABOUT HER! HOW I FELT ABOUT HER! I DON’T FUCKING WANT HER IN THE CROWD OF THE NEW CAR LAUNCH!”

Charlotte rolls her eyes, “WELL, GET OVER IT! IT’S HAPPENING!”

“I’M THE DRIVER, I RUN THE SHOW! I SAY SHE GETS TAKEN OFF THE INVITE, SHE GETS TAKEN OFF THE INVITE!”

“SHE’S ALREADY BEEN INVITED, DUMBASS! WE CAN’T RETRACT THE INVITATION NOW. IT WOULD LOOK BAD.”

“I DON’T CARE! FUCK, CHARLOTTE, THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!” Spit flies from his mouth, his volume so loud it jostles the walls.

Charlotte, being the strong woman she was and fed up with Lando’s recent behavior, fires back, “IT’S NOT MY FAULT SHE’S ON THE AUTOMATIC INVITE LIST! YOU KNOW THIS! GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS!”

He lets out a loud grunt, turning around in the room like it’s closing in on him. He’s so in his mind as it suffocates him with memories of her, he steps toward the wall and almost puts his fist through it. However, right before his hand comes in contact, he hesitates.

He can feel Charlotte’s horrified eyes on him as he turns around, chest heaving from the unreleased anger. He can’t fully meet her stare, knowing it’ll break him further.

However, that doesn’t matter as she puts her hands on her hips and whispers, “Who even are you anymore?”

She slams the door on her way out and Lando can hear her lash out at his father, detailing how he needs to get his son in check if Lando wants any kind of continued future in F1. They go back and forth for a moment, Adam standing up for his son in a time where there’s no defending able to be done. His father reminds Charlotte of the relationship she’s cultivated with Lando, reminding her of how she once referred to him as her son, and she’s ready with her heartbreaking answer: he’s not the same person she once knew.

That gives Adam no room to fight back, silence overtaking the atmosphere for a moment before he’s entering the room. Lando sits on one of the many office room chairs, head hanging low as he picks at his fingernails.

Adam sits in the one closest to him, breathing slowly as he tries to gather what he wants to say.

“Lando, what happened that night?” He repeats, reminding him of the countless conversations they’ve had that started with that question and ended with Lando refusing to talk about it.

His son shakes his head, something dying inside Adam once more, “I told you. I’m not talking about it.”

A moment passes before Adam snaps, “Lando! I know you’re hurting and I’m so sorry. But, Jesus fucking Christ! You can’t go on like this forever! This isn’t healthy! She’s not coming back! She’s stopped communicating because she doesn’t want to hear from you! You’re going to need to move on sometime!”

Lando stands abruptly from his seat, his father’s words hitting him hard, “You have no fucking right to say that! You don’t know what’s going through her mind!”

Adam stands to get in his face, “No, but I do know you two were happy, she was happy, and you were in love, and then it was over! People don’t fall out of a love like that if someone didn’t fuck up royally!”

Lando moves to the door, “I don’t want to hear this anymore.”

Adam grabs his arm before he can leave, staring at him with a stone cold gaze, “You keep pushing people away, treating people like shit, and you’ll ruin your career.”

“Who said I even cared about my career anymore?”

—

As much as he hates it, Lando’s eyes immediately search for her once he and Oscar are let into the room. The new car sits under a drape, a crowd of people standing around it, and, even with all the exciting things around him, he looks for the greatest heartbreak of his life.

He wants to see how she is, see if her eyes are as sunken as his are, if her body is as thin as his. Yet, he fails to see her. He knows she’s here, having seen her acceptance of the invitation on the guest list.

He’s being pulled to the front of the room by PR members, their pushes making him stumble into Oscar’s side as he keeps his gaze locked on the sea of people in front of him.

Time goes by slowly, the ceremony moving easily with applause when Oscar and him roll back the material covering the racing car.

They’re in the midst of an interview, microphones held tightly in their hands as they converse with the reporter.

He’s still distracted, his eyes still searching throughout the party to see her, but he’s called back when Oscar nudges his shoulder, “Sorry, what?”

The reporter smiles, “You’ve just gone through a break up and it seems she’s here. Does that say you two ended on good terms?”

He cries of laughter in his head. The idea that they ended on good terms is the funniest thing he’s heard in a while.

He puts on his fake smile, though, nodding strongly like this isn’t a question that has broken his soul, “Yeah! Y/n and I still talk from time to time. She supports me and I support her.”

He feels as if Oscar is staring at him, as if the entire room is staring at him, as he lies through his teeth. Y/n and him haven’t spoken in a year, her having cut off all contact from the very beginning.

The interview continues, nonetheless, with the journalist accepting his answer without question.

Once they’re done, Lando feels sick. Sick of trying to salvage his image, sick of having to appear at these functions, sick of wanting her back and knowing she’ll never let him in again. He excuses himself quickly, mumbling about needing to use the restroom, before dashing off down an empty hallway and locking himself in a stall.

He sits on the toilet, racing suit falling over the edge of the porcelain bowl as he lays his head in his hands.

He breathes heavily, lungs not taking in enough air, and he feels as if the first tears are about to fall when the door opens and the conversation of two men floods through.

“They broke up, you know?” One of the men states as they begin looking at themselves in the mirror, Lando watching them through the cracks of his stall.

The other one nods, seemingly excited, “Yeah, I’ve never been happier. She’s so hot, we finally have a chance.”

Lando’s eyebrows furrowed together. Who are they talking about?

“I know, mate. I saw her tonight. I think she’s still here. You saw that orange dress she’s in? Hot as fuck. It really does justice to that body of hers.”

Lando grimaces at their words.

However, they continue, revealing more about their topic of conversation this time, “Yeah, one hundred percent. Y/n Y/l/n has never looked better. I saw her walk in and I was ready to fuck her instantly.”

The color drains from Lando’s face when her name slips past their lips, their previous words having an entirely different impact on him now. He sees red at their vulgar words, pulling himself from the stall and walking out with a dangerous, cold air to him.

The two men stop quickly, looking at each other in the mirror when Lando sidles up in between them. Beginning to wash his hands, he makes eye contact with both of them.

“Having a nice conversation here, boys?”

The two of them gulp, clearly nervous at the man’s presence. They say nothing, rather letting Lando continue.

“You know, we may not be together anymore, but that doesn’t mean she’ll get with you two. She has standards and, after being with her for five years, I can tell you: you two aren’t it. Keep dreaming, though, yeah? That’s how I got to where I am now, making millions of dollars a year and such.”

He waltzes out, throwing out the paper towel he had grabbed in the middle of his words and nodding at them.

Suddenly, as he stands in the quiet hallway, his demeanor has shifted. He feels lighter. Consciously, he doesn’t know why, but, subconsciously, he knows it’s because he just asserted his dominance over her, his possession. Reminding the two men of how long he was with her, how long he had her, a duration of time they’ll never see, mended his pain for a minute or two.

It comes back quickly, though, when he turns the corner and runs into the infamous papaya colored dress that had laid on the floor of his bedroom many times before. He halts, so does she, and for a moment, the two of them keep their eyes trained on the other’s clothes, not wanting to look up and face something they aren’t ready to face.

Although, cruelly, that moment inevitably comes and Lando’s breath is taken from his lungs at how radiant she stands before him. His eyes trail over her face, the tape that was once holding his heart together now ripping apart at the sight of her. She seems strong, looking at him in a removed manner, as if she truly isn’t there with him at the moment.

His hand hovers over her bicep, fingers tingling as they plead with him to touch her.

“Hi, Lando.” His name falling from her lips, sounding soft and warm, reminds him of why he knew her coming to this, seeing her, would ruin whatever kind of progress he had developed in the year they’d been apart.

His mouth opens, then closes, and he struggles to get words out as his mind races with all the things he wishes to say. Knowing everything he’s tried to tell her is not meant to be said in a place as open as this, he settles for, “Hi, Y/n.”

She smiles at him, completely different from the fury in her features the last time he saw her, and mumbles out, “How have you been?”

He takes a leap, “Been better.”

She ignores it, “Listen, I need to go to the bathroom, but it was nice seeing you!”

Y/n tries to slip past him, but he’s quick to grab her arm. Looking in her eyes as if he’s trying to show her the happy memories that now are too painful to remember, he speaks lowly, “Hear me out.”

She shakes her head, “No, Lando. I’ve been done with us for a year.”

“Have you?” He challenges her, staring down at her and willing her to try again.

She rolls her eyes, looking anywhere but him, “Yes.”

“Look at me.”

When she fails to do so, he shakes her arm lightly.

“Look at me.”

And when she does, he tilts his head, leaning down to hover his lips over hers, “Tell me we’re done. Look at me and tell me you don’t love me anymore.”

“That’s not fair.” She whispers, lips brushing against his.

“Why?”

“Because of what you did.”

He looks on at her, their eyes holding the other’s as they relive the moments of that night. They both know there’s no way for him to counter, no way to fight back or fight for when she throws that in his face. What he did to her, what he said to her, has tarnished the trust she gave to him.

He pulls back, breathing in deep when she rips her arm from his grasp and flees further down the hall.

Watching her disappear behind the door of the restroom, Lando curses himself.

Curses the alcohol, curses that night, curses his words, curses the love they had, curses the memories that won’t leave him alone.

Curses the existence of their relationship entirely.

—

Lando’s never felt confusion of this level before. He stares down at Paige’s, Y/n’s best friend, contact as it calls Lando’s phone.

He hesitantly answers, putting it to his ear slowly, and whispering, “Hello?”

“Lando?” Paige sounds concerned.

Lando shakes his head, attempting to wake himself from the sleep he had just been having, “What’s going on?”

“Y/n is so fucking wasted and, I have no clue what happened between you, but she keeps asking for you. She won’t stop drinking, won’t leave the club, until you get here. I didn’t want to call you, partially because of how late it is and partially because of what’s going on between you two, but, if I’m honest, I’m glad I have an excuse. I’m worried about my best friend and it started when you two broke up.”

By the end of her words, Lando’s already out of his bed and halfway out the door. His keys jingle in his hand as he continues to converse with her, “I’m on my way to pick her up. I’ll be there soon. Just try and keep the drinks out of her hands.”

Before he can hang up, the engine of his car revving to life, Paige interjects, “Lando, one more thing. You’re going to have to let Y/n sleep at your place. She moved out of her apartment a few months ago and has been sleeping on my couch while she finds a new place. But, we have other friends here and I can’t just leave them to make sure she gets into my house.”

Lando nods, “That’s fine, but why’d she move out? She loved it there.”

Paige sighs, “Because she couldn’t stand the fact that everywhere she turned, all she saw was you.”

—

Lando pulls up to the club, its lights bright and music loud as he spots Y/n and Paige waiting on the curb. He gets out, rushing over to them and not loving the way Y/n seems to be hunched over in pain.

Paige pawns her off into Lando’s arms, Y/n melting into them and clinging to him when he holds her softly.

Paige begins to walk back toward the entrance of the club, “Thank you, Lando! You were always someone I could count on to take care of her. Have fun and please, for the love of God, fix whatever is wrong between you.”

At that, she disappears back into the colorful lights and Lando is left with his girl.

She’s mumbling quiet things into his chest, words he can’t make out as he gently lowers her into the passenger seat of his McLaren. When he’s finished buckling her seatbelt and triple checking that she’s secure in the car, he pulls back, but not before she’s grasping his hand and looking up at him with weeping eyes, “I miss you.”

Three words he’s yearned to hear for so long and yet, now, he can’t take them seriously. She’s drunk, she’s blacked out, and she very clearly doesn’t know what she’s saying.

This isn’t real.

He knows that.

But, what if it is?

—

When they stumble through his threshold, Y/n bolts to the bathroom. He smiles softly at the way she still, even in her drunken mind, knows exactly the layout of his apartment. Retching emitted from the small room and he’s running over, kneeling down beside her as she empties her stomach into the toilet. His hand rubs up and down her back as the other holds her hair back, whispering sweet and soft words of love in her ear.

“It’s okay, Y/n. I’m right here.” Knowing she’ll wake up tomorrow and be disgusted by his presence makes the moment even more tender. He knows what will be lost tomorrow, he wants to savor it now.

Her hand moves from the toilet to grasp his shirt, the material hanging from his waist below her. It hurts to feel her touch, to know she seeks comfort in him, but it hurts even more to think of rejecting her, pushing her hand away. So, he lets it rest there, lets it seep into his skin and burn the area, marking it as her own and reminding him there will never be another girl as precious to him as her.

When she’s done, dry heaving the only thing sounding as she lays against the wall behind her, he sits with his legs crossed to the side. His hands rub her thighs as she recovers, and all he can do is stare at her. Her eyes are closed yet he can picture the exact color of them. He memorizes her nose, its upturn and freckles; he memorizes the Cupid’s bow of her lips, the feeling of the plush and soft skin tattooed on his; he memorizes the moles dotted across her neck and the cleavage of her boobs in her dress; he memorizes her arms, their warmth forever ingrained in his brain after Spa 2021 and she was the only thing he needed; he memorizes her legs, and her hands, her hair, the way her eyebrows are shaped, and jawline he’s wished to kiss again.

For it will be gone tomorrow.

—

He’s the first to wake up, thankfully. In case she woke up before him, he slept on the couch, her body taking up his bed for the night. He makes coffee with trembles in his hands as he awaits the moment she wakes up.

And when she does, she storms out of his bedroom, striding into the kitchen still in his t-shirt and sweatpants, the items he dressed her in the night before.

“WHY THE FUCK AM I HERE?” She screams at him, hands flailing at her sides as her cheeks redden with anger.

“You got drunk and wouldn’t leave the club until I came and got you, so Paige called me.” He responds calmly, knowing how uncomfortable she must be.

She scoffs, “AND I JUST COINCIDENTALLY HAD TO SLEEP HERE?!”

He shakes his head, “No, Y/n. Paige told me you had to sleep here because she still had to make sure the other girls got home safe. She didn’t have the time to get you back to her place herself.”

She quietens down, looking at him with a distant stare, “Did we fuck?”

He reels back, eyes bulging, “NO! YOU THINK I’D DO THAT WHEN YOU WERE WASTED AND IN THE MIDST OF WHAT WE’RE GOING THROUGH?”

“WE AREN’T GOING THROUGH ANYTHING, LANDO! WE ARE DONE!” She fires back.

“YEAH? THEN, WHY DO WE KEEP SEEING EACH OTHER?”

“I DON’T KNOW! IT’S NOT LIKE I’M ASKING FOR IT!”

Lando steps closer to her, taking a deep breath, “Last night, you told me you missed me. Is that true?”

“No.”

It hangs in the air, full of lies and deception.

“Yes, you do.”

She groans, “NO, I FUCKING DON’T! STOP TRYING TO HOLD ON TO SOMETHING I DON’T WANT ANYMORE!”

“WE WERE IN LOVE, Y/N! I KNOW YOU STILL LOVE ME IN THE WAY I DO!”

Her hands shoved at his chest, tears beginning to leak from her eyes, “THAT DOESN’T CHANGE WHAT YOU SAID TO ME!”

Unwillingly, Lando is taken back to the night that ruined it all. Refreshing his memory horrifically.

A YEAR EARLIER

Y/n chuckled as she threw Lando onto the couch, his drunken body landing in an awkward position.

“I’ll be right back, Lan. I’m just going to get you some water.”

He nodded, groaning at the swirling in his stomach. He heard her clank around in the kitchen, getting up and wandering off toward the sound.

When he reached her, he was very quickly overcome with desire and lust for his girlfriend. He stumbled over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her back to him. He began kissing her neck, spit and slobber coating the skin in an uncomfortable way.

Y/n dodged him, “Lan, baby, I love you, but you’re really wasted right now.”

He hummed, “It’s fine, Y/n.”

He tried to kiss her again, but she slid out from his hold, “No, Lando. Plus, I’m not in the mood.”

He reached out for her, but she moved too quickly for his drunken mind. He groaned in frustration, “Y/n!”

“Lando!” She gave right back, shaking her head at his antics as she continued to fill up his water.

When she gave him nothing as he stared at her expectantly, he said the first thing that came to his foggy mind, “Fine, I didn’t want to fuck you anyway.”

She giggled, not fully hearing what he was saying, “Sorry, what?”

“I said, I didn’t want to fuck you anyway. I’ll just go into my Instagram messages and find someone better, it’s whatever, don’t worry about it.”

He saw the way she slowly turned her head to him, “Lando, what are you say-”

He interrupted her, “Who do you think I should look out for? Someone with a bigger ass than yours? Or maybe with bigger boobs? How about skinnier? Or perhaps with a prettier face?”

She just stood and stared at him, the glass in her hands slowly slipping from her grip, “What the fuck?”

He laughed at her, “Come on, Y/n!” He pulled out his phone, waving it in her face, “Who should I look out for as a replacement for the girlfriend who won’t fucking do shit for me?”

Her hip popped out, his demeanor change blindsiding her, “Why are you saying these things?”

He huffed as he slurred, “Because you’re a fucking shit girlfriend! I’ve put up with it for years, your inadequacy to fulfill me! I’m fucking done. I’m over not being satisfied in everything we do. You aren’t attractive to me anymore, you aren’t funny anymore to me, you just don’t do it for me anymore. Someone, I know, can surely be better than you.”

His words were malicious and hot on his tongue as if he had been waiting to say them. The glass, like her heart, slipped from her hands and shattered at her feet. Shards littered the floor, cutting her bare feet, as Lando began laughing at her, “Oh, perfect! And, now, you can’t fucking hold a glass! Fucking pathetic.”

He waltzed out of the room, as if everything was fine and retreated to his room, slamming the door shut.

There, as she stood in the middle of a wet pool of glass, she cried.

Cried for the pain in her feet; cried for the man she loved; cried for the death of her confidence; and cried for the love that had just been ruined.

PRESENT TIME

Lando remembers waking up that next morning without her beside him, and being utterly confused. That was until he read the text message in which she reminded him of the things he said to her, informing him they were over, she wouldn’t look at his face ever again, and she was already on a plane away from Monaco, to not chase her.

He had never been given the chance to explain to her just how drunk he had been that night, how his words weren’t really his.

“I DIDN’T MEAN WHAT I SAID TO YOU!” He yelled in her face, trying desperately to get through to her.

“DRUNK WORDS ARE SOBER THOUGHTS, HUH?” She argued, hands pushing against his arms.

“ARE ROOFIED WORDS SOBER THOUGHTS?”

She stopped, taking a step back and staring at him. She was quiet, looking up at him with a newfound curiosity, “What?”

“I was drugged that night, Y/n.” He responded, finally allowing for the truth to come out.

Her eyes softened, looking up at him with the love he knew was within her. She walked back to him, closer this time, and wrapped her arms gently around his neck, “Are you okay?”

Testing boundaries, he laid his hands on her waist and when she didn’t protest, he leaned into her fully.

“When I woke up that morning, I had a really hard time reading your text. I got through it, but I couldn’t shake the fact that I genuinely felt like I couldn’t see. My vision was fucked. I got up, I wanted to go to the kitchen and drink some water, but my legs gave out under me and I fell to the floor. I struggled to walk, my head ached in a way I never knew was possible, and I puked all over the floor of my bedroom. I, obviously, knew something was seriously wrong, so I called Jon. He came and helped me into his car. I must’ve been pretty removed because he tells me, to this day, that I was mumbling things about you leaving me, shit I don’t remember ever saying. But, anyways, he drove me to the hospital and they did a shit ton of tests. The drug test, that’s how we found out I was drugged with Rohypnol, a roofie. They helped get it out of my system, but I was pretty fucked up for the next few days. And, then, when I truly came to about a week or so later, I realized the gravity of what happened between us, but, obviously, by that point, it was too late.”

His explanation left Y/n feeling slightly guilty. She had been with him that night, it was her job to make sure he was safe as she promised him she would be his designated driver, the sober one.

“Do you know who did it?” She asked to which he shook his head.

“No, I’m not sure. I don’t remember much from that night.”

He saw it in her eyes, “Y/n, don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself. There’s no way you could’ve known.”

Her eyes watered, “But, I should’ve known what you were saying to me wasn’t you, or even drunk you. I shouldn’t have shut you out. I should’ve given you time to explain.”

He nodded his head to each side, “Maybe, but what I said to you was horrific. Of course, you left me.”

She separated herself from him, walking into the living room as she cried. He sat down next to her on the couch, her tears soaking the shirt she wore as she struggled to gain her breath.

He pulled her into him once more, “Y/n, it’s okay. Your actions are justified.”

She shook her head, “No, it’s not that. I mean, it sort of is, but it’s mostly the fact that I spent this past year thinking you never really loved me. What you said to me that night, I’ve never forgotten it and I just spent so much time berating myself for thinking, for five years, you loved me back. I degraded myself over something that was completely manipulated.”

He laid his head on hers as he nodded softly, “I’m so sorry. If it’s worth anything, I truly did love you all five years. I still love you. I never stopped loving you.”

She pulled back, hands on his chest as she stared at him, “I still love you even if those words still haunt me.”

“Don’t let them, please. The fact that they came out of my mouth is enough. Don’t let them have any kind of value. You were and are the love of my life. There’s no one like you, Y/n. No one who could be better suited for me. You are more than enough for me. You’ve satisfied me in every part of our relationship. What I said that night, it couldn’t be farther than the truth. I could never fall out of love with you ever. There is no one I want to take up the other part of my bed than you.”

She wiped her tears, “What about those girls you were seen with this past year?”

He shook his head, “Didn’t hold a candle to you. Not my finest moment, baby. I’m sorry for it.”

“No, you don’t have to apologize for trying to move on, I just want to make sure you’re in this with me.”

He threw his head back, “Of course, I am. I’ll always be all in if you are too.”

She lightly smiled at him, returning to her spot against his chest as he laid them back against the cushions.

They laid there with each other, in silence, until the afternoon. Something that was once broken, now whole. Something that was once destined to end, now beginning again. Something that was once messy and complicated, now clear. Something that was once mistrusted, now fully capable of any challenge.

Maybe Lando could put that engagement ring to use now.

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #mclaren formula 1 #lando norris edit #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris x you

[chadleys]

›› pairing: astarion x reader

›› wordcount: 1.9k

›› genre: established relationship, smut, fluff.

›› rating: 18+, mdni

›› synopsis: got a request for pregnant tav and astarion taking place after the events of the game. this is that.

›› warnings: pregnant!reader, impreg, biting, mentions of blood drinking.

the grounds of the manse are still, quiet, as you examine yourself in the full-length mirror by the window. cloud cover has been rolling in all day; a storm is brewing. you wish it would just arrive already — you’ve always loved the rain. and any excuse to spend the afternoon in bed with your beloved while rainfall pounds at the windows is a good one to you.

you turn this way and that, examining the subtle swell of your belly. that’s not the only change you’ve noticed, of course; your hips and thighs are a shade larger, your breasts more plump, arms slightly too thick to fit into most of your tunics anymore.

at the moment a sheer, lacy negligee drapes from your shoulders, the bottom hem barely brushing the backs of your thighs.

just as you start to grimace and turn from the mirror, a knock at the door distracts you.

❝ is my love decent? ❞ astarion’s dulcet tones make your legs quake and a tenuous bout of gooseflesh prick your arms.

❝ as though you’d care either way, ❞ you purr. a moment ago, you were desperate to get away from the reflection in the mirror. now, you stand your ground, waiting for him to enter.

which he does, beautiful body sliding between door and frame as his crimson gaze finds you. he sighs, wistfully, and his bare feet make quiet shuffling noises along the hard wood floor as he approaches. ❝ what can i say other than that you’re right? you are utterly indecent and i have to be honest. i prefer you this way … ❞ those last words spoken right into your ear send a shiver down your spine, your lashes fluttering before flying open again.

this. this is why you so suddenly changed your mind about abandoning your post in front of the mirror. it’s been enchanted. ever since your return to baldur’s gate, both your and astarion’s fortunes have vastly improved. not only monetarily, though it’s certainly been fun to watch your coffers steadily rise and eventually overflow. but also your general quality of life; not only do you have a special midwife who’s been helping to check on the babe from time to time, making the periodic blood meals it requires more palatable for you, but every mirror in the house has been magicked to be able to show a vampire’s reflection.

❝ admiring yourself? ❞ astarion’s voice is unbearably low and intoxicating in your ear. you nearly fall into his arms, as one wraps itself around your waist, hand cupping your belly. ❝ … i know i am. ❞

your hands come to brace themselves on astarion’s forearms, running back and forth, though you’re comforting yourself more than you are him. ❝ just the opposite, ❞ you all but spit. ❝ i don’t look like myself anymore. these changes, they … they disgust me. ❞

suddenly, you’re being whirled, losing your footing. but astarion is there, hands on your biceps, drawing you close and pressing his mouth fiercely to yours.

you melt, fingers clutching at the collar of his tunic, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

just when you think he’s sucked all the air from your lungs, he presses you back and allows you to breathe again.

❝ i don’t ever want to hear you talking about yourself like that again. and i do mean ever. ❞ gentle fingers swipe a lock of hair back from your forehead. ❝ you’re carrying my child; how could you possibly be disgusting? ❞

at a loss for words, you let him wheel you slowly back around to face the mirror. chin hooked over your shoulder, his scorching carmine gaze roves over you. slow hands part the lapels of your negligee, traipsing over all of your newest curves. ❝ look at this beautiful body ... ❞ his voice is low and hot, splashing molten waves over your entire body. ❝ and it's all mine. ❞

in one swift move, he sinks his teeth into your neck, making you moan and squirm against him. he doesn't drink from you anymore, not when you need all the energy you have to keep up with the life growing inside of you. but it's enough for him to continue to mark you, never letting your bites heal fully before he leaves more.

❝ astarion ... ❞ his name is a plea on your lips as you lean back into him, a solid pressure against your back.

❝ i can smell you, ❞ is his response, one hand traveling steadily downward, ❝ getting so wet for me. it happens more often now that you're pregnant, have you noticed? i certainly have. ❞

you want to tell him that it's not like the two of you weren't having sex every single night before. but now you're having sex every morning, too. and afternoon. and evening …

instead, you swallow thickly and swerve onto your other path of thinking. the path that focuses on the heat between your legs, thighs already sticking together as astarion slips a hand between them and cups your sex.

❝ please tell me you were wearing this — ❞ he plucks a piece of flimsy fabric from the negligee between his teeth. ❝ — for easy access? ❞

❝ of course. ❞ it hadn’t even crossed your mind.

astarion releases a shaky breath and steps away from you. you miss him immediately. ❝ get on the bed. ❞ normally he would throw you onto it, bthe two of you are taking every precaution for the baby.

climbing onto the soft bedspread of your giant four-poster bed, you allow astarion to come after you, crawling, hunting you as if you were his prey. the softest, sweetest prey he’d ever encounter.

legs spread, you welcome him between them, where his hardness presses — warm and insistent — against your wetness. but he still has his breeches on.

you hook a finger into the waist and tug, letting the fabric snap back against his alabaster skin. ❝ these, i think, need to come off. ❞

❝ why, i do believe you’re right. ❞ using his roguelike reflexes, the trousers are gone before you know it and his erection is jutting up, thick and hard, against his stomach. the sight is enough to make you salivate.

normally you’d put it in your mouth straight away, but pregnancy has made you overly sensitive to nausea and you really don’t want to chance ruining this lovely afternoon. so you pull him down by his tunic and kiss him again, your tongues slipping, dancing, enjoying themselves.

one of astarion’s hands has found itself down between your legs again, and he parts from you to whisper, ❝ you’re so wet … i think i could just … ❞

he trails off, and the head of his cock finds your entrance. gentle fingers splay your lips apart and he guides himself right into you, gliding easily along your slick walls. this is not the first time you’ve gotten wet so easily for him and certainly won’t be the last.

you pull your legs back, hooking your arms around your knees to hold yourself open for him. you’ve made this exact shape with your body many times before, and not always in a bed as comfortable as this one. but the extra weight you’ve put on makes holding the position a touch more difficult this time, and one of your legs slips from your grasp, knocking astarion hard in the side.

❝ gods, sorry! ❞ you reach for him, to make sure he’s okay, but the vampire catches your hand easily and pins it to the bedclothes, fingers twined with yours.

❝ never apologize to me, my love. you have no need to. you could ravish me, and still i would thank you. ❞

the thought makes your toes curl; being with astarion hasn’t always been easy, especially when you first met. but now … especially now that you’re pregnant, his desire to dote upon you has grown immeasurably. you want nothing more than to bask in the intensity of his gaze forevermore … and to give birth to his child, of course, but that is still months off.

❝ i still c-can’t believe, ❞ you stutter as he begins to thrust, ❝ you actually managed to get me pregnant. ❞

astarion covers your swollen belly with one of his perfect hands, and both of you watch your breasts sway as he fucks you. ❝ my dear, i was so full of your blood that night i’d be surprised if you don’t give birth to twins. ❞

the thought makes your head swim, your legs clench around his waist, drawing him in, wanting him so much deeper.

neither of you had strictly known that was how it worked; that the more blood a vampire had drunk, the more virile they’d become. not until conducting some research and investigation after you’d mysteriously missed your cycle that month.

needless to say, however, both of you were beyond thrilled.

❝ careful, ❞ you jest, with your legs still tight around him, urging him on. ❝ don’t want to poke the baby’s eye out. ❞

astarion chuckles, leaning down to lay a chiding bite to your chest, fully on display now that the opposites sides of your negligee had fallen completely open. ❝ i don’t claim to be an expert, but i don’t think that’s how it works, love. ❞

as if to prove his point, his hips start to piston in and out of you. harder, faster, astarion holds your gaze as he all but begins to plow you.

pregnancy has made you sensitive in ways you couldn’t believe were possible. the ridges of his fat cock dragging against your tight walls make the room go fuzzy, the bed canopy above you shifting and twinkling like a sky full of stars.

your hands are in his hair, tugging, drawing a hiss from him as he tosses his head back against your ministrations.

he growls, tight and low, that he wants to see you cum, wants to see you lose yourself for him. and you can’t help but obey.

your entire body seizes, toes curling in the sheets, and astarion fucks you through it with harsh, demanding thrusts. you’re so wet that his cock makes sticky sweet noises every time he enters you.

it takes him no time at all, after that, to finish for you. this time you pull your legs back as far as possible and tell him to cum as deep inside of you as he can, wishing to every god you believe in that he could get you pregnant again now, fuck another baby into you.

the one already inside of you is demanding enough, but you can’t help but marinate on astarion’s earlier words: what if you’re having twins? the thought fills you with inexplicable joy, heart pounding big and broad in your chest.

astarion sighs and slips to the side of you, sliding down to place his cheek against your belly. ❝ see? i don’t think he minds at all … ❞

❝ oh? and how do you know it’s a he? ❞ you can barely catch your breath to ask, fingers brushing hair back from astarion’s sweaty forehead.

❝ i don’t. but if you have a boy, you can be guaranteed i’ll be getting you pregnant again as fast as i can, so that he’ll have a sister to keep him in line. ❞

#so basically you and astarion live in a gigantic mansion in the city #watching your gold pile up #fucking all day #sounds just like what they deserve after the shit they went through #my writing #astarion hc #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion smut #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 smut #f!reader

[themorningsunshine]

Pie - eyed over you

Mafia - Baker AU 

Masterlist                         Series Masterlist

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader

Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.

Warnings - Mentions of murder and weapons 

Word count - 3.3k

a/n - This is my first time writing an AU and I am super nervous (also because I have combined two things I can just not write about, weapons and cooking). Please let me know what you think.

Rain was pouring heavily on the roof of the shed and he wasn't sure if the old sheds meekly covering the building could contain them much longer. He couldn't care less.

He walks out of the building and into the rain, wiping his left arm on his dry coat to wipe off the blood covering it. The pouring rain caresses his face but does nothing to the ever-present frown on his forehead and the grimace on his lips.

He used to love the rain as a kid. The gentleness of the droplets, the smell of rain, and the puddles. It was so much easier back then. So innocent. He closes his eyes as droplets slide their way all over him. They touch him like they don't know what he has just done.

His frown deepens as images claw into his mind once again. He clenches his fist remembering how it had taken him mere 10 seconds to shoot 3 bullets straight into the man's head. The killing had become easier over the years. Picking the bullet and shooting straight into the target had become second nature to him.

What hadn't become easier was the aftermath. The guilt that somehow always gnawed its way into his heart. The question was there any other way?

With his eyes still closed, he brings his face towards the sky, daring the rain to wash away his thoughts the same way it has washed away the blood that stuck to his metal arm not so long ago.

He likes the rain for a completely different reason now.

It provides him with an escape.

From his mind.

His thoughts

The images. The man screaming, begging him to stop and he doesn't even feel disgusted by himself when he doesn't even falter. He left his men to take care of the body.

A face lingers in his mind, pushing away all the dark thoughts. His ma "Bucky "

It's like he can hear her call out to him, urging him to come back home.

She would have hated how he turned out.

But he tells himself he doesn't care.

It didn't matter what his ma would have thought about him. She wasn't here. She didn't have to know.

He snaps his eyes open when he doesn't feel the rain falling on his face anymore. He can still hear the raindrops thudding on the roofs of the buildings. He looks up to see a huge umbrella over his head, shielding him from the rain.

He frowns and follows the handle of the outrageous floral print object only to be met by the sight that was going to change his life forever.

The first thing he saw when his eyes met y/e/c ones was that they held a certain softness to them that he didn't think still existed in this world. He was almost afraid to take his eyes off yours as if he was scared that you would crumble down under his gaze.

But when he brought his eyes over your face and then the rest of you, he knew it was the most beautiful sight his eyes had ever landed on. That even the most beautiful paintings in the world didn't hold a candle to you.

"Are you okay?" You whispered, voice so gentle, it could calm the most violent of storms.

Bucky thinks those are the most precious three words he has ever heard. He nods his head, mostly because he doesn't speak too much these days and also because it has been a very long time since someone has asked him that question.

"I am walking that way and the rain is increasing, you don't want to get drenched. Walk with me?" You ask and he thinks he would burn the whole world down to the ground with a smile on his face if you asked.

He looks at the way you are pointing and realizes that's where his car is parked. He says, "Okay" and sees as you take a step towards him, covering the both of you with your umbrella, and his senses are filled with your smell. You smell like freshly baked cookies and coffee. It's his new favorite smell.

You take a couple of steps ahead before turning towards him and he realizes he is staring. He doesn't remember the last time when somebody had enthralled him so much. For some reason, he just can't get himself to look away.

"I have not seen you around before." He says only to hear you speak again.

"Yeah, I am kind of new here. Been less than a week." You reply with a smile on your face and Bucky thinks this cursed town has just been blessed.

You look around before commenting, "It's a beautiful town." And for the love of god, he can't figure out how this part of the town which is more of a  dumpster with remnants of buildings all around can be beautiful to somebody.

"This is not really a safe place." When you look at him with confusion in your eyes, he continues, "Especially at this time of night." As if that explanation is enough. He straightens his back and tries to get the confident, mob aura he has around everyone. "What are you doing here?"

If his slightly changed demeanor throws you off guard, you don't point it out. You just bite your lip before speaking, "What if I tell you I lost my way?"

The chuckle that leaves him is involuntary. "Really? Lost your way?"

"Hey. In my defense, it's just been a week." You place your hand on your chest in fake offense.

"Where were you heading to?"

You put your hand in your pocket before taking out a piece of paper. "Here"

Bucky takes the paper from you and looks at it with furrowed brows. "Why are you walking this way? This place is at the other end of that alley." He says before pointing out to a dark alley.

You make an o shape with your mouth before turning toward where he is pointing. "Got it. Thanks."

When you reach his car and his driver opens the door for him, he turns back before saying, "Let me drop you." It doesn't sound like a request.

"No, no. It's fine. I don't want to be trouble. Also, I am not sure your car would fit in there." You said before tilting your umbrella towards yourself.

"I'll see you around." You tell him before giving him a small wave and walking away, a smile still etched on your lips.

Bucky stands there, watching you go, and realizes he didn't ask your name. But he'd be damned if he let you go in that alley alone. He asks one of his men to make sure that you reach your destination safely.

"Keep an eye from afar." He instructs him. Voice cold and commanding.

But the frown on his head and the grimace on his lips are a little less evident on the way back.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?" Bucky's voice bellowed around the dark room, startling everyone around him.

"S- sir, I tried." Peter bows his head before whimpering.

Steve, who has been standing beside Bucky's chair leans in to whisper, "He is just a kid, Buck."

Bucky rubs his hand over his face before looking at Peter trying his best to give him a soft look. "Okay, Peter. I don't have time for this. What exactly is the problem here? And don't tell me a full-blown story."

"S-sir, the new bakery. The owner says she isn't going to pay the money. Said something about taxes and also that, 'If I don't barge in there asking for weapons, don't barge into my place asking for money.'

Some of the men standing in the corner chuckle but are rewarded by a glare from Bucky.

"I don't have time to deal with a Baker. Did you tell her that everybody in town pays the money? It's for protection." He says, voice slightly irritated. The townspeople feared him. There was no doubt about that in his mind. Hence, they sent him money at the start of every month diligently. But sometimes, out of the blue, someone would come and try to be the savior, trying to rebel. He didn't understand what they wanted. He wasn't a monster. Over the years, he had relieved some people of paying the money on various occasions.

"I did tell her that, sir. She asked me who exactly is this protection from." Peter whispered, now slightly trembling with fear.

This piqued Bucky's interest. Over the years, nobody had ever asked his men the reason behind the money. They just obliged.

Peter continued, "I told her it's from the mob. Some of us. And she said she isn't going to pay us to do the bare minimum, to be human." Bucky leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes in annoyance.

Steve spoke up, "It's okay, Buck. I'll handle this. You know they all give in eventually."

Bucky opened his eyes and stood up from his chair. "Nope, I will come with you. This is different." He then looked at Sam who was standing at the other end of the room, "Receive the order of the weapons. The delivery is scheduled in an hour."

Same nodded his head before walking out of the room. Bucky dismissed the other men and along with Steve walked towards Peter, both of the men towering over him.

"Peter, are those crumbles of pie on your face?"

A shiver passed through Peter at his cold tone and he willed himself to speak, "She gave it to me, sir. I tried to refuse. Really did. But she said that I am just a kid and don't deserve - " Peter cut himself before he could speak too much. He somehow had the habit of always speaking about stuff that is supposed to be kept secret.

A small smile found its way to Bucky's lips but it was gone as soon as it came and he patted Peter's shoulder dismissing him. "This is different." He said to Steve before walking out of the room.

And for some reason, he was sure it was true.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

"We are here, sir."

Bucky looked up from the file he was reading to his driver and then around him. It was one of the good areas of the town where families stayed, holed up in their whole little world, the darkness of the other side not fully reaching them.

Steve instructed the driver and the guard to stay in the car as the both of them walked out. "That is the one," Steve said pointing towards something.

Bucky followed his gaze and his movements faltered for a slight second. He had never seen something so - warm.

A little bakery standing between a bookstore and a cycle stand with sweets adorning its shelves looking delicious enough to lure anybody inside—soft music playing in the little speaker placed outside. People occupying the chairs outside and inside the shop, kids running around with huge grins on their faces, every one into their own little world.

It looked lively.

Bucky couldn't remember seeing something like this in the town before. Maybe he hadn't even bothered, or maybe something had really changed. With their black sunglasses and dressed up in dark colors from head to toe, he wasn't sure if he and Steve were going to fit in, but he couldn't care less.

As they walked closer, Bucky could now see most of the shop and when his eyes landed on the sole person behind the counter, his breath hitched in his throat.

Removing his sunglasses to get a better look, he stopped in his tracks when his suspicions were confirmed.

.

It was her.

The girl with the floral umbrella and the warm smile.

The girl who had somehow crept her way into his thoughts more than he would like to admit in the past week since he had seen her.

And she was beautiful.

He saw as you stood behind the counter, handing a box to a little girl with a huge grin on your face, the girl jumping up and down in excitement as you leaned towards her to whisper something.

He then saw the little girl run out of the bakery, clutching the box to her chest towards her mother as if it was the most precious thing in the world. When his eyes went back to you, he saw how you talked to the next customer, an old lady, with the same huge grin on your face.

He hadn't noticed that he had been staring until Steve cleared his throat, a smirk on his face. Before Steve could say something, Bucky muttered, "Stay here, let me handle this." He walks towards the stops with a calculated gaze and a perfected aura of confidence.

As he opens the door to the bakery, the smell of coffee and cookies hits him hard and a feeling of warmth engulfs him.

"How can I - " Your words die in your throat when your eyes land on the familiar figure.

Bucky could swear your smile gets wider.

You compose yourself before saying, "Hey, I know you. You are the cute guy from the other day."

Bucky frowns as he takes in your words. Cute? Did you just call him cute? He had been called intimidating, scary, and even sexy. But cute? He was furious. He was anything BUT cute. Also, was he allergic to something in the shop? Why the hell was his stomach suddenly fluttering?

He also ignores the way his heart is beating quicker at the realization that you remembered him. What was happening to him today? "I am looking for y/n l/n."

Your smile turned slightly mischievous as you replied, "That would be me."

Bucky's eyes almost widened at that. "You are y/n? The owner of the bakery?"

"Yup." You said popping the p as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And the last I checked, introductions went both ways."

You raised your hand towards him for a handshake and after looking at your hand for a moment, he shook it. "I am B - James." For some reason, he didn't want you to know who he was. The nickname might give it away.

You smiled at him again before returning your hand, a little too early for Bucky's liking, "So, James. What can I get you?"

He had it all planned. It was like second nature to him. I want my money. Abide by the rules, you don't want to know the consequences. It was the usual. But for some reason, his mouth had gained a mind of its own as it said before he could comprehend, "Cupcakes"

You looked at the huge display of baked goods before looking back at him, "Which one?"

Bucky gave the display a glance, he was sure he hadn't ever tasted most of them. "What do you recommend, sweets?"

He watches as you are visibly taken aback by the nickname. A smirk find its way to his lips as he watched red color creeping up to your neck.

"I - uhm" You take a breath to compose yourself. Get it together. "These red velvet cupcakes just came out of the oven and they are kinda my favorite. So.." You look at Bucky with excitement in your eyes and he likes how passionate you are about your work.

"I'll take a box."

You smile at him before bending down to pack a box of the delicacy and he watches how you oh-so-gently pick up each piece before placing it inside the box with practiced precision.

When you hand over the box to him and your hands brush, you feel the sparks through your spine once again as when you had shaken hands.

When he puts a hand in his pocket to retrieve the money, you cut him off. "Don't worry about it. It's on the house."

Bucky smiles a little before replying, "Sweets, you keep giving free goods like that and you'll have to close the shop soon." He says in a teasing voice.

"I'll let you in on a secret, James." You lean towards him as if it is the most secretive thing in the world. "This is a business strategy."

He frowns a little, trying to cover the fact that he was getting too comfortable with how close the both of you were, before saying, "How's that?"

"The first order is on the house but then you come again. And again. It's really profitable."

There is this - innocence and purity in your voice that reminds him of a little child. Of old times. Easier times. And he just stares into your eyes for as long as he can, as if they could help him escape, become a portal to a time long lost.

You don't dare to move either. His eyes are the prettiest shade of blue you have ever seen. They have this intensity to them as if hiding the stories of a lifetime and you just can't get yourself to look away. You have always loved a good mystery.

Bucky clears his throat, bringing the both of you out of the daze as he brings the teasing tone back to his voice, "What makes you think I will come back?"

You chuckle a little before giving a proud smile. "Oh, you will, James. I trust my cupcakes."

He gives you another small smile as he takes a step back. This is the longest conversation he has had with a person outside his line of work in a very long time. Everybody was just too scared but he couldn't care less.

"Goodbye, sweets." He says before letting the new customer who had just entered go ahead. 

"Goodbye, James. Until next time." You add with a wink.

Bucky walks out of the bakery, his initial motive forgotten completely. From the outside, he turns back to look at you for the one last time and watches as you say something that makes the teenage boy laugh while taking out cookies from the shelf.

A moment later, you look towards the window and your eyes meet for a fleeting second. You smile at him and give him a small wave.

Bucky turns around to walk towards his car when he notices Steve standing a few feet away with a knowing smirk on his face.

Bucky rolls his eyes before muttering with clenched teeth, "Don't"

Steve doesn't ask about the money and Bucky is glad. He isn't really sure how he would answer. Whatever happened wasn't what he was expecting.  You weren't what he was expecting.

As he slid into the back seat of his car, the image of your smile when you were that close to him lingered in his mind and he couldn't stop the way his lips had pulled slightly upward.

When the car started driving, and with Steve on a phone call, he opened the box of cupcakes and picked one to take a small bite.

As he takes the first bite, the softness and the sweetness of the cake engulf him and leave him wanting more. He doesn't remember eating something this good in a long time.

And for many reasons, he will definitely visit again.  

Next part

#bucky barnes #marvel #one shot #mob #mafia #mob au #mafia au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x y/n #bakery #bakery au #baker!reader #fluff #bucky barnes fluff #mob!bucky #steve rogers #peter parker #sam wilson #pie eyed over you

[bluebeary-jay]

Be still my foolish heart (don't ruin this on me)

Neighbor!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: you and Joel have been neighbors for a while but despite your mutual interest in one another, you never crossed this line. until, after one tense situation, Joel slips up (based on this wonderful request!)

Tags: friends to lovers, love confessions, fluff and angst, Joel is your sexy neighbor you shamelessly drool over, also his toolbelt is an important character in the fic (don't judge me)

Warnings: angst, 'nice guy' alert 🙄, attempted assault (stopped by Joel), some nsfw content but not actual smut (yar girl is gettin there 😌)

Word count: 6.2K

A/N: hiiii my darlings!! sorry for the wait, i know it's been a long time but life was crazy. here's sth i've been workin for a looong time and honestly i stared at it for so long i no longer know if i'm proud of it or not 🙈 anyway, i really hope you guys will like it and as always, happy reading!! 💕

“I really don’t know how to thank you, Joel. This is incredible.”

Joel watched, slightly embarrassed, as you walked around the table with a wide, bright smile. You gripped one of the legs – the one that was previously crookedly attached and broke down when you put something heavier on the counter – and tested its stability. After a successful inspection you looked up at him.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Nah, nothin’ of the sort.” He waved his hand, feeling a big lump in his throat when you directed that pretty smile of yours at him. “M’just glad I could help.”

“You didn’t have to fix this, too, though.” You brushed the edge of the table which Joel sanded so you wouldn’t get a splinter from the rough surface. His eyes followed your fingertips before he coughed.

“Didn’t want you to hurt yourself. This side was practically smashed up, after all…”

“Still, I didn’t even need to ask you.” You shook your head in thoughts before glancing at him with gratitude. “Thanks again.”

“You really gotta stop thankin’ me.” Joel started to gather his things into the toolbox and wiped his palms on his pants (certainly not because they were slick with sweat). “It was a piece of cake.”

“But, you know.” You tilted your head to the left and right, scrunching your nose playfully, and it was so fucking adorable that Joel thought his heart was going to give out. “You already fixed the sink in my kitchen, that hole in the wall, my door, and now my table… Are you sure I’m not leeching off your generosity?”

A half-smile found its place on Joel’s face, and he shook his head with a chuckle. “M’sure. It’s only fair since we’re neighbors, sweet girl.”

Sweet girl.

Joel never knew if he wasn’t crossing the line by calling you that. You never gave any sign of discomfort or disgust when he did, but he also recognized that regardless of your reaction, he should stop. He couldn’t deny that his old heart harbored an embarrassingly big crush on you – after all, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes on – but it wasn’t right to think about you in that way.

If he only knew that every time he let those words of endearment slip, your heart started to do crazy somersaults.

Joel Miller was an extremely handsome man, there was no denying that. And with his deep drawl, the salt-and-pepper hair, the warm, brown eyes and that dangerous smirk he sometimes sent in your direction… it was no wonder you fell for him.

It also didn’t help that he was so kind, always ready and eager to help you with the smallest inconvenience. Sometimes it made you want to smash something in your house yourself, just to have an excuse for him to come over again and for you to be able to watch him work.

But you weren’t that desperate, yet. Yet.

Your daydreaming was rudely interrupted by a series of knocks on your front door. Both your heads snapped in the direction of the sound, but when you recognized the familiar pattern of it, your mood dampened in an instant.

Joel noticed the change in your expression, of course, and immediately stood up, leaving the toolbox on the floor.

“What is it?” he asked with a hint of alert in his gruff voice, but you shook your head.

“It’s nothing. Don’t go yet, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You exited the room before he could ask another question, and Joel furrowed his brows. He stayed rooted in spot, listening to your heavy step as you walked to the door and opened it. And then… he heard a male voice that started to say something to you.

Joel couldn’t help but grind his teeth as he finished gathering his stuff, ready to go back home. It was the second time that some man came to visit you while you had him over, and the bitterness he felt in his mouth was even more noticeable than on the previous occasion.

He knew you were quite popular in Jackson, especially with boys your age. There was always someone offering to buy you a drink or dance whenever you went out with your friends, and once Joel had to even step in when two drunk guys kept pestering you. But as much as it pained him, some of those men who showed genuine interest in you were quite nice. And good-looking.

And a lot younger than him.

He knew very well that he was too old for you. He knew that he shouldn’t fantasize about sharing a life with you, and that thinking of any form of intimacy between you and him was making him a big old creep, but no matter how many times he swore to himself it’ll be the last, he could not stop. You were just so beautiful, so sweet and so nice…

He saw your smiling face when he went to bed late at night, and imagined your body beside him when he woke up early in the morning. He looked at your house on his way to work and wondered if you were eating breakfast already, taking a shower or still sleeping peacefully amidst the many blankets he saw once on your bed. He felt a rush of energy and endorphins every time you knocked on his door, asking him to help you with something, and it only enhanced his already existent protectiveness toward you.

Suddenly, Joel heard a raised male voice from the porch, which instantly got his guard up. He quickly followed the sound, and upon rounding the corner he saw you trying to close the door on Jack, a boy he recognized but never talked to. He saw him a couple of times at the bar, though he wasn’t one of those bothering you and never seemed to give anyone any trouble.

Still, you looked really uncomfortable, so when your and Joel’s eyes met, he nodded reassuringly and took his place in front of you.

“Is somethin’ the matter?” he asked dryly. The sight of him took Jack aback and he opened his mouth, looking lost for a good moment. Joel raised his eyebrows, and the young man cleared his throat.

“Nothing at all. We were just chattin’.” Then Jack looked over Joel’s shoulder at you, completely ignoring the other man. “What the fuck is Miller doing in your house, anyway?”

You stammered, but Joel kept his cool, leaning against the doorframe casually. Jack was tall and well-built, but still smaller than Joel, and he made use of this fact to intimidate the boy to the extreme.

“Mr Miller is helpin’ her with the sink that needs fixin’,” Joel answered instead with a pang of irritation. “And you’re kinda interruptin’.” Jack didn’t move, and Joel clenched his jaw. “Scurry. Now.”

The boy huffed, murmuring something under his breath before he bid you a grudging adieu. Joel shut the door behind him with more force than he intended and took a second to calm his breathing before turning back to you.

“Sorry if that was too harsh–”

“No, don’t apologize.” You sighed tiredly and went to the living room, plopping down on the couch. “It’s okay. Maybe he’ll back off a little.”

Joel bit the inside of his cheek, wondering if he should ask the question that was gnawing at him mercilessly.

“Are…” he started, and you lifted your head. “I mean, are you two…”

“No!” you quickly answered, blushing a little to Joel’s surprise. “No, no, nothing of the sort. He asked me out and I told him I’m not interested, but he still tries to…” You waved your arm in the direction when he saw the youngster last. “I don’t know, convince me?”

Joel sat down next to you, clasping his hands together. “Well… if he ever gives you any trouble, you lemme know, alrigh’?”

A small smile spread across your face when you tilted your head to look at him.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Then a playful glint appeared in your eyes, and your smile turned mischievous. “...Mr Miller.”

A breathless laugh escaped Joel, and he dragged his hand over his face, praying that he managed to stifle a groan wanting to escape his chest. He shook his head to regain some clarity, but could still feel all the blood in his body rushing down. It didn’t help that your couch was too small, and your knees were touching – though Joel couldn’t tell if it happened when he sat down or a little bit later.

Fuck.

“Shut up,” he just murmured, not looking at you in fear you’ll see what your words did to him. “I tried to make him leave quicker.”

“And he did. And I think you deserve a reward for your help.”

You stood up and for a second Joel panicked. A reward, you said.

He couldn’t help the images that flooded his brain in that moment – of you on your knees in front of him, or bent over the table he just fixed. His eyes went to your thighs, and his own flexed involuntary when he envisioned how you’d feel underneath him, what sweet sounds he could coax out of you, how soft your skin would be in those places you kept covered…

But then you walked past him, and he snapped out of the naughty daydreams.

“Wh-where are you goin’?” he asked, his voice strained, and you looked over your shoulder with an oblivious smile.

“I made a cake this morning. I’m gonna bring you a piece, yeah?”

You didn’t wait for an answer, and just left the room with pep in your step.

Joel groaned and let his head fall back, covering the redness of his cheeks with his hands.

Idiot.

Almost two weeks have passed since the last time you asked for his help with something, and surprisingly, Joel was okay with that. After that embarrassment he experienced in his own mind, he told himself that it would be prudent to distance himself from you for a little bit. At least until he could act normally around you.

He still thought about you constantly, that he couldn’t help. Every time he saw you in town he instantly felt lighter, but so very often you were accompanied by another man – and no matter if you seemed comfortable with the attention or not, Joel always had this urge to come over and protect you from any unwanted suitors.

He was being ridiculous, he knew that. You didn’t like him the way he liked you, and even if he somehow grew a pair and told you about his feelings, a pretty and young girl like you would never be interested in someone who could be her father’s age.

The thought of you thinking of him as a father figure churned up his guts, making him feel sick. Jesus Christ.

But it still did nothing to weaken his infatuation, and when you finally knocked on his door again, asking if he could fix the rack in your room, he didn’t even hesitate before agreeing.

So here you both were. Joel, looking at the problem at hand, and you, looking at (none-the-wiser) Joel.

“S’nothin’ big,” he finally said after some examination. “I’ll replace the shelf and reaffix it to the wall better. Shouldn’t take long.”

You nodded, but truthfully you were only half-listening. The sight of Joel in your bedroom was far too distracting.

It’s been so long since Joel was a guest in your house – well, only a couple of weeks tops – but you missed seeing him in your private space. Though one could say, he never truly left with how often you thought about him.

So maybe that’s why you were so shameless with your staring.

His broad shoulders were to die for, and you bit your lip absentmindedly as your eyes wandered across his muscular back and forearms, usually hidden under the sleeves. You knew you shouldn’t be ogling your neighbor who was nice enough to lend you a helping hand whenever you needed, but… well, a little admiring wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

And there was a lot to admire.

“You listenin’ to me?”

The brutal wake-up call of his voice pulled you out of your thoughts, making you blush wildly and your body hot with embarrassment at being caught staring.

Okay, maybe it would hurt someone.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, feeling your whole neck heating up rapidly. “Uh-huh. I understand.”

Joel’s lips stretched into a lopsided smile, and he turned to face you fully.

“I asked if you have some nails in the house,” he repeated, not breaking eye contact. If you allowed yourself to be delusional, you’d say his voice sounded almost… flirtatious. But that was probably only your head telling you what you wanted to hear.

“Yeah…” you breathed distractedly, but then shook your head quickly. “I mean, no. No, I don’t.”

Joel smirked, stepping closer to you and making you swallow heavily. Your gaze once again dropped to his strong arms, down to his big hands and… fuck. He had his thumbs hooked in his tool belt, already hanging low on his waist, and it made him look so ridiculously hot.

Lord have mercy.

“What got ya so distracted, sweet girl?”

Have fuckin’ mercy.

“Nothing!” you said, a bit louder than you intended, crossing your arms over your chest to do something with this splitting tension in your body. “I was just looking at… the shelf.”

Joel’s eyebrows shot upright. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he didn’t believe you. “The shelf,” he repeated blankly, and you nodded, trying to appear calm despite feeling like you were going to burst into flames if he kept looking at you like that. But then Joel chuckled, and his eyes turned as warm as always. “M’only teasin’. Stop lookin’ so scared.”

“I’m not–” you started, but your lips also spread into a grin when you saw his genuine smile. “God, you’re insufferable. Will you fix it or not?”

“So demandin’,” Joel mused, shaking his head and walking out of the room. “I’m gonna go get the nails from my house. Be right back.”

You whispered under your breath something he didn’t hear, but it made him smile to himself nonetheless.

It was so easy to slip back into this playful banter with you, Joel thought as he made his way back home. Maybe things between you two won’t be as awkward anymore (though he was aware all this awkwardness was his fault), and he could go back to being your friend.

No matter that he wished he could be something more. No, it wasn’t right to think that way. What you two had was enough.

Still, as he looked for those damn nails, he couldn’t get out of his mind the way that adorable blush spread across your face. And how your eyes lingered on his figure when he looked at you. But no, surely he was only imagining things.

…right?

Joel sighed, closing the door behind him and going back toward your house, his thoughts already on the best way to fix that shelf of yours and maybe stabilize it a bit more, because by the look of how it hung on the wall, it was only a matter of time until he’ll have to visit again.

Or maybe he’ll leave it be. Only to have an extra excuse to see you sooner rather than later.

He rolled his eyes at his own musings, but the train of his thoughts abruptly stopped when he saw your front door slightly opened. He slowed down, wondering if you went after him… but no, there was no sign of you anywhere, and he was pretty sure he closed it on his way out.

And then he heard a faint sound of glass shattering.

Joel’s mind went completely blank. In a blink of an eye he stormed into the house, his survival instincts formed over the last twenty years kicking in and screaming for him to find you, to make sure you’re safe and unharmed.

But your bedroom was empty and when Jeol yelled your name, no one answered him. You were within the safe walls of Jackson, and there was no way the infected or raiders could ambush you, but still Joel felt an icy wave of panic washing over him, his mind providing him with terrible scenarios that would explain the open door and your silence.

Then a small thud reverberated from the other room, and Joel’s legs carried him there without a second thought.

He slammed the door open, and his eyes immediately locked on the man holding you against the wall. Your assaulter – that fucking kid, Jack – had one hand covering your mouth, the other forearm pinning your shoulders to the wall. His knee was between your legs and Joel could see you standing on your tippy toes, trying to pull away as far as possible.

Joel’s hands were itching to get rid of the threat that guy was for you, but first his gaze involuntarily shifted to your face – and his heart clenched painfully when he noticed your terrified expression and tears streaming down your cheeks.

The blinding rage in Joel’s veins almost charred him from the inside out and he felt like he was about to explode from the fury seething inside of him. In two long strides he ran towards Jack and all but threw him off of you, stepping to the side to act as a shield between you and him.

“You just signed your death sentence, kid,” he growled and punched the other man in the face when he tried to get up. You screamed behind him, but Joel ignored it, the need to beat the living daylights out of this little shit almost overwhelming his senses.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Jack yelled from the floor, holding a hand in front of his face. “You broke me fucking nose, man!”

It was true, the blood was flowing freely from the already swelling nose, but it didn’t feel like enough. Joel had to utilize every fiber of his willpower to keep himself from venting his wrath on this kid. He knew damn well it wouldn’t end well for either of them – Jackson had hard laws when it came to violence.

“You deserve a lot worse,” Joel gritted his teeth and motioned with his head towards the exit. “Now get out.”

“She wanted it!” Jack shouted, as if he hoped that his explanations would make the situation any better. He wiped the blood flowing from his nose, glaring at you angrily. “Stupid bitch,” he snarled, “can’t make up her mind. Didn’t I do enough for you?! I was nice, always helped you–”

“Get the fuck out of here before I break your jaw,” Joel cut in, clenching his fists and taking a step forward. The young fucker seemed to size him up for a couple of seconds, probably wondering if starting a fight was worth it, but eventually spluttered contemptuously.

“Fine,” he snarled, and then looked below Joel’s arm at you. “I wouldn’t want to catch somethin’ from you, either way, if you’re already fucking this old geezer.”

Your face, and also Joel’s, grew hot – but while yours was red from embarrassment and shame, his was burning from barely concealed rage.

“OUT!!” he shouted, his thundering and powerful voice making both you and Jack flinch. His face was twisted in fury and the other man must’ve realized that staying here longer would only mean worse for him, because he scrambled to his feet and ran out without another word.

The front door slammed shut behind him, and for a few seconds a heavy silence hung in the air.

Joel took a steadying breath, trying to restore his cool, but he felt himself shaking from rage. If he didn’t come back in time… if he was a minute late, he didn’t want to think what that bastard would’ve done to you.

Trying to shut down the intrusive thoughts, Joel turned around and knelt by where you were still seated on the ground. He couldn’t will the tension in his body to lessen, and his muscles and tendons were so taut that he thought they were going to snap. But he forced his hands to unclench before he gently cupped your face.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked quietly, his brows knitted in worry. You shook your head, but your eyes were filled with tears, and it felt like something was ripping Joel’s chest apart.

“He pushed me. And I… the glass.”

You lifted your hand and Joel winced when he saw a shard of green glass – from the flower vase which previously stood on the table – embedded in your palm. A trickle of blood was running down your wrist, but he presumed there would be much more once he took it out.

“It’s alright, sweet girl. I’ll take care of it.” I’ll take care of you. “Let’s go to the kitchen so I can patch you up, ‘kay?”

You nodded, letting him pull you to your feet.

Once you made your way there and you instructed him on where some bandages and disinfectant were, Joel gently grabbed your waist and hoisted you up onto the table, seemingly without any problem at all. You blushed when you felt his touch, for a moment forgetting about the pain piercing your palm, but the gravity of what you just experienced crept up on you again soon enough.

Joel noticed your silence as he carefully removed the shard and bandaged your hand. He didn’t want to imagine what exactly happened when he was gone, but it was obvious it shook you quite strongly. So when he saw tears welling in your eyes, he threw all caution to the wind and wrapped his arms tightly around you.

Not one ounce of regret had time to haze his mind over, because you instantly clung to him, too, letting out a shaky exhale. Joel hugged you tightly, letting go of all the tension and fear in his body. He was never this close to you before, and he allowed himself to indulge in the warmth of your body and the feeling of your arms around him, reminding him that you’re okay, that you’re with him now. He breathed in your scent, hiding his nose in the crown of your head and pressing his lips to your hair, hoping to calm you down.

“It’s alright, baby. I’m here, you’re safe now.”

You tensed, but Joel just held you closer, not realizing he said something wrong. He planted a soft kiss on your hairline, sighing when you started moving your hands up and down his back soothingly. Despite standing up, Joel felt relaxed like never before, like he could fall asleep right here and now.

That is, until you spoke up.

“What did you say?”

…shit.

Joel opened his mouth, then closed it almost immediately. His eyes raced wildly across the room, trying to think of what to say, but he didn’t let go of you. There might’ve been a selfish reason behind his inaction, but mostly he didn’t want you to see his flustered face.

“Nothin’,” he answered after a pregnant and rather uncomfortable pause, and cleared his throat. “You don’t wanna… t’was nothin’ important.”

Maybe you really didn’t hear him. It would have saved him a lot of trouble and embarrassment, and probably another two weeks of his life of avoiding you. But judging by the silence in the room, he wasn’t so lucky.

“Did you…” You swallowed before finishing softly, “call me ‘baby’?”

Joel cringed, closing his eyes tightly, and prayed for some higher power to smite him off the surface of the Earth. But again – luck wasn’t on his side.

The silence prolonged, and you finally grew impatient. You pulled away, looking up to scan his face. “Joel?”

“I’m sorry, it… slipped out,” he mumbled, all red and not meeting your eyes. That was a shame, because if he did find the courage to look at you, he would notice a small smile forming on your face as you regarded him.

“So I heard you correctly?” you asked again, and he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face and rubbing his eyes.

“Yes, yes you did. M’really sorry, I wasn’t thinkin’. I just tried to comfort you and– fuck,” he whispered to himself, lowering his hand but still not looking in your direction. “I, I don’t want ya to feel uncomfortable. I’m sorry, I can go…”

“No.” Your uninjured hand shot out and grabbed his shirt before you could process what you were doing. Joel glanced down at your fist clutching the material, and then back up into your wide eyes. “Please, no. Stay.”

His lips parted slightly at your request and unexplained (at least from his perspective) hope filling your gaze. He looked so adorable that you had never wanted to kiss him more than right now.

“Come closer,” you pleaded, barely louder than a whisper.

Joel obliged, letting your hand guide him. You gently pulled him to you, so that he was almost standing between your legs, and your fingers loosened their hold, now smoothing over the material of his shirt.

You took a deep breath and leaned forward, bracing your weight on his chest. Joel looked puzzled by your behavior, but when he realized what you were doing, he stopped you gently by putting his own hand on your shoulder.

“No,” he whispered, his voice full of pain, but steady. “Don’t do that. You… you’re in a state of shock.”

“I know what I want,” you spoke equally quietly, staring at him with nothing but pure genuineness and need in your eyes. “And I want you, Joel.”

“Please, ba–” he cut himself off before he could finish this word. It pained him deeply to reject you, but he knew that if he let you kiss him, you’d regret it later. And that he wouldn’t be able to survive. “I’m sorry, sweet girl, but it wouldn’t be right. I don’t wanna be takin’ advantage of you.”

Your face fell in confusion and disappointment, but you didn’t let him go even when he put a light pressure on your hand.

“You never..” you gulped, searching his face, “thought about it? About… me, in that way?”

Christ, what was he supposed to say to that? He wouldn’t be able to lie to you, not if you kept looking at him with those innocent and full of desire eyes of yours.

“Don’t ask me.” Joel closed his eyes, the muscle in his cheek pulsing when he felt your touch on the side of his face. “Please, don’t ask me.”

“Because I have,” you continued in a sudden rush of courage. “I think about you constantly, and about us. Every time I invite you over or see you in the town working... And I’m only saying all that, because I thought maybe… maybe you felt it, too. I think you do.” Joel didn’t answer, and you looked up at him with determination you didn’t really feel. “Tell me.”

Joel clenched his jaw, exhaling heavily, but didn’t pull away. He weighed the options in his mind while you waited patiently, and finally, his resolve cracked under your hopeful gaze.

“I think about you,” he began slowly, earnestly, “every night. Every fuckin’ night and day, sweetheart.” His voice was raspy, but that drawl of his so soft and delicious to your ears. “But I shouldn’t. You and I both know that.”

He still hasn’t looked your way. You tried to lean to the side to fit in his field of vision, but Joel turned away even more, attempting to take a step back. You grabbed his shirt again before he could do that, and he didn’t fight you.

“Why not?” you whispered, transfixed on his handsome features.

“‘Cause you deserve better. I’m way too old for you,” he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, like you should know it already. “You have so many admirers who are probably much more fit for you, and it would be… it is so wrong that I’m lettin’ those thoughts linger.”

“I don’t want any of them, though.” Joel finally locked eyes with you, but still seemed conflicted. You slowly let go of his clothes and reached for his hands, then guided them to your cheeks. You saw his throat bob nervously when you placed them there and brushed his knuckles with your thumbs. “Look, it’s hard for me to open up, but… I really like you. Really.”

Joel swallowed heavily, his face contorted in pain – as if your words were wounding not only his soul, but his very flesh. Then the pressure on your cheeks became a little stronger, and he tentatively swiped his thumbs under your eyes in a loving manner. Your heart fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings as he slowly scanned your face for any sign of hesitancy, then let his eyelids drop and pressed his forehead to yours. You lifted your chin slightly, nudging his nose with the tip of yours.

“Call me that again,” you whispered pleadingly. His wooden, earthly scent was enveloping all your senses, making you feel so very calm and safe. You’d gladly lose yourself in him. “Please.”

Joel instantly knew what you meant. His resolve was wavering and his body giving in, but the doubt was still there in his mind. The fear that he was somehow reading you wrong.

“Don’t beg me, sweet girl.” His breath was on your lips, beckoning you even closer. “M’too weak for that.”

“Please,” you repeated more urgently, and when he didn’t move, you turned your head and pressed your lips to the inside of his wrist tenderly. “Joel.”

He cursed softly. It appeared that the tension between you both was getting to him, too, and Joel was losing the battle he fought with himself. He lowered his lips to the edge of your jaw, his pupils blown wide and eyelids heavy, almost as if he was under a spell. You whimpered when he withdrew one of his hands on your cheeks, but the loss was quickly replaced by relief when he moved it to the small of your back, pulling you closer and flush against his body.

“You sure about this?” he murmured lowly, making you shiver against him. His nose traveled along your jaw and the column of your neck, then back up until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “I don’t want ya to regret it.”

“I won’t,” you promised. “Please, baby.”

Your plea sent a shiver down his spine. Joel couldn’t hold back anymore, didn’t want to. It was clear you wanted him, and he never was a strong enough man to deny you anything.

Your eyes met, and Joel took a second to get his heart under control. You were so beautiful, and your skin so soft under his touch… He tilted your chin up, barely able to comprehend that all of it was really happening, that it was you who put his hands on yourself. And you wanted him to kiss you.

For fuck’s sake, you begged him to.

All the remaining traces of his self-control evaporated in a heartbeat, and he pulled you in, pressing your body closer before bringing his lips to yours, locking them in a soft kiss.

His mouth molded perfectly to yours, causing you to sigh with relief at the gentle caress. You felt heat pooling in your stomach, and you were glad for sitting down because your weak knees would surely buckle under you in different circumstances. The intensity of the kiss gradually grew until it became so heated that you had to grab a fistful of Joel’s hair on the nape of his neck for support.

At one point, Joel pried your lips away, searching your eyes with concern. You worried that he was having second thoughts, but the longer he looked at you, the more his own irises darkened with lust and insatiable hunger, making your face burn like it was on fire. His clear want and the knowledge that you were the cause of it made you feel powerful, but somehow at the same time completely naked under his gaze.

Without any warning, he dived back in, his wide palm enveloping one side of your face while he tangled the other hand in your hair. He tugged on it, probably a little rougher than he intended, eliciting a needy moan from your chest. You instantly felt embarrassed about your response, but when you tried to pull away, Joel practically growled, not letting you turn away.

“S’alright, baby,” he rasped, trailing hot kisses down your neck, making your breath hitch in your throat. “Keep makin’ those pretty sounds for me.”

You felt dizzy. Like he could make you melt from the tone of his voice alone.

Having his lips on yours felt better than you have ever imagined, and so perfect that you never wanted this moment to end. But one thought kept nagging at you, making it harder and harder to focus, and finally after some time Joel softly drew away. He sent you a soft, almost shy smile.

“What is it, sweetheart? Not havin’ second thoughts, I hope?”

It hit you in that moment that it wasn’t the first time he looked at you with so much warmth and affection in his eyes. You just never noticed before that he always looked at you this way.

“No, no,” you hurried to reassure him. “Just something… Something I wanted to do for a while.”

He raised his eyebrows playfully. “Somethin’ other than kissin’ your handsome neighbor?”

You clicked your tongue at his unexpected cockiness.

“Not exactly.” Your answer only made him more intrigued, and you grinned. “Indulge me and take a step back.”

Joel squinted suspiciously, but eventually humored you. You bit your lip, feeling giddy at finally having a chance to do something you thought about every time this infuriatingly handsome man was in your house.

His eyes followed the tip of your tongue when it ran across your bottom lip… and you took this moment to hook your thumbs on his tool belt and yank him forward.

Your lips connected again, though it was far from perfect – your teeth clashed together and your noses collided, causing you both to yelp in small pain and discomfort, but you didn’t let go of him. Your joy from this silliness lasted only a couple of seconds, though, because before long Joel started to laugh uncontrollably.

You huffed and tried to kiss him again, but he withdrew out of your reach, wrapping his arms around your waist with a big, goofy smile.

“Get back here.”

“What the hell was that, sweetheart?”

His eyes crinkled in amusement and you felt a bit foolish from what you just did. You turned your gaze down, but Joel lifted your chin with his fingertip, and you couldn’t help but smile, too, when you saw how happy he looked.

“It looked more romantic in my head,” you murmured with an awkward chuckle. “I actually wanted to do it the first time I saw you with that belt on.”

“S’that so?” Joel asked and kissed you briefly again, this time with a hint of hunger he was keeping at bay until now. “You like seein’ me in it?”

“I really, really do,” you whispered, hiding your face in his chest. “I don’t know why, but it look so fucking hot on you…”

“My dirty baby,” Joel purred into your hair. The bright grin on his face only grew when he heard you groaning in embarrassment. “Gimme a kiss.”

You didn’t move, not wanting to face him, so Joel opted to nuzzle the sensitive skin of your neck with his nose. “You’re adorable, y’know that? Don’t get all shy on me now, babygirl.”

A deep sigh escaped your chest and the tension in your shoulders lessened. Joel smirked into the crook of your neck, still planting soft kisses on your skin. His lower back was starting to ache from the position, but there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be.

And then all the discomfort in his body was put in the shade when you moaned quietly, pressing yourself against him more and wrapping your arms around Joel’s neck.

“Do you wanna get back to my room?” you asked after a while, and Joel hummed into your skin, now littered with love bites his lips and teeth left in their wake.

“You want me to fix that shelf of yours?” he teased back, making you snort.

“Just wanna cuddle with you. If that’s okay.” You nuzzled into his neck, and added quietly. “I can still feel his touch on me. And I only wanna feel you.”

Though Joel would be more than okay with that, by the sounds you were making and the look you were giving him, he doubted that’s all you’ll be doing. Still, his back hurt like hell and he almost let out a relieved groan at the thought of laying down.

“If you want me, baby. If you want me, then I’m all yours.”

Not a week has passed, and Joel had to get his toolbox out again – this time to fix your broken bed.

Though now he knew exactly what caused the damage.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #joel miller fluff #i played with perspective a bit in this one as you can probably tell #joel miller x you #joel tlou #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction

[yxami]

meow I’m still bored

Yandere siren that appears before the familiar sight of the shore, softly humming to himself about whether to kill a few more sailors today. He’s already been scolded by his brothers for killing so often but he’s been so bored lately!

With no sight of a prosperous mate, he’s just been killing disgusting and vile humans that happen to run into him, or maybe he should say humans that sail to their death. Perhaps he should look up what the humans referred to him as in the newspapers.

He knows that the townspeople have been giving names to the sirens that lull sailors to aggressive waters that make their boats crash into sharp and rigid rocks.

His train of thoughts are broken when he hears a voice coming behind the rock he sits on, he slips into the ocean and pops his head slightly up to witness what he heard.

“I’m fine mom, I’m just going to be at the beach for bit. Ugh, no.. I’m not going to swim or anything” You drag your voice in the lie that you weren’t going to take a dip in the relaxing waters. You turned off your phone when you manage to convince her after a few minutes.

The unnoticed siren witnessed you taking off your shirt and shorts, providing a mouth watering sight of you in your swim wear. He couldn’t help but stare until he realized he had to hide from you.

You look over to your left to see the odd movement in waves, but you saw nothing so you ventured further into the cold waters. You were wondering why your mother was so anxious about you being the ocean.

Yeah, there was some dangerous creatures like sirens and mermaids but they were much deeper into the ocean. They’d never dare lay on the shore, right?

“Hello human” The ironically mentioned siren circles around you, before curling his dangerously long tail to trap you. You can feel his smooth yet scaly tail brush against your legs.

You fuss around and scream for help before he frowns and covers your mouth.

“Why scream? I already have you in my grasp so what could a human do to help now?” He tilts his head in confusion, wondering why you truly believed somebody could help. He had already checked the land before you came and it was completely empty.

“I’m sorry!! Please just let me go! I didn’t mean to get in your territory” You started to cry, assuming that you had offended the siren in some way for him wanting to drown you.

But unfortunately that wasn’t the case. You just piqued the interest of this curious siren and now he was confident that you’d cure his boredom.

Poor you.

“My territory? Silly human, I just came here to relax, I’m just interested in why you look so entrancing” He ghosts his finger tips over your stomach, looking at how you shift and turn at the cold touch within the comfortable waters. What did you expect? He was a cold blooded animal after all.

“So you don’t wanna kill me?” You sniffle, trying to wipe your tears but you had forgotten that he wrapped his tail over your arms as well, so he wipes it for you even when you flinch at his fingers raised to your face.

“No no, if anything, I’m interested in courting you, you look so pretty after all” He moves his hands to your hair, feeling how silky it felt and staring at how beautiful you looked, even with your fearful eyes that were glossy with salty tears.

“Courting me? I’m not a siren though..!” You said with an urgent tone, worried you had gotten yourself in a much worse situation than being killed.

“So? I think you’re perfect for me, so dainty and precious, you’re like a shiny pearl, I love it” He whispers in your ear, humming as he explores your body with not only his tail but hands.

“I don’t know..! I have to go back home and—“

“It’s okay my pretty little human, you won’t have to worry about your human life anymore” He shushed you with a hug, kissing your neck and jaw, making you whimper in fear but he took it as a pleased one.

“I’ll take you to my home and you’ll feel much better!” He exclaims, dragging you into the ocean before you could hold your breath.

You were too unlucky to even be presented the chance of death from drowning because he kisses you with puffs of air each time you’re close to passing out. And now you’re stuck in this cage he calls home.

#yxami’s yam #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #pls request #yandere x reader #yandere x kidnapper reader #yandere oc #yandere ocs #yandere male #yandere boy #yandere siren #siren yandere #yandere hybrid #yandere hybrid siren

[luveline]

Babe congrats on quitting!!!

I live coworker!James sm he is so lovely and i cant heló bit asking for more

R having a bad day and James doent know until he teeases her and she just like opens up to James a bit more?

thank you!!

You can’t escape Remus’ sweet questions of concern, though he’s tactful. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Remus asks, James a haunting somewhere near the customer complaints desk. 

“I’m fine.” 

“You really don’t wanna come to dinner with me?” 

It’s a nice offer, but Remus is part of a package deal, and he’s the only one of the three who isn’t exhausting; Remus’ boyfriend Sirius is well meaning but so beautiful and so alarmingly aware of it, while James is all those things too, but much less subtle about it. “I’m too tired for the walking, thank you. I’m just gonna stay here and eat my sandwich in slow bites.” 

Remus laughs, wrapping his scarf tight around his neck. He doesn’t tuck it under his coat. Sirius will do that for him. It’s heartbreaking to see every day, a reminder of real love in the world that will seemingly never touch you, but it’s cute too. 

James rockets back to his desk. He’s always in a hurry. Half-frantic, he pulls his rucksack from under his desk and unzips the main body. To your horror, he unveils a large Tupperware of white rice, asparagus, and what looks to be chicken thighs. Next comes his portable knife fork. 

He notices your watching. “It’s just rice and chicken,” he says defensively. 

“No, I’m not–” You shake your head. “Not about what you’re eating. Eat what you want, James.” 

“Don’t I always?” he asks. “Not about what I’m eating. Your general look of disgust and disdain is to do with something else, then. Did you accidentally look in the ladies bathroom mirror again?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

James tucks his chair in, face paused, hands hesitating at the sides of his dinner and then flat to the desk. “Hey, is something wrong?” 

Maybe his comment before struck a nerve. Maybe you’re having a terrible day, and everything’s piling up, and you can’t be expected to keep in your feelings forever. Or maybe you’re dumb. “Guess I did look too long in the mirror,” you say. 

“You’re upset?” he asks, startled.

You shake your head vehemently. Slow. “I’m just having a bad day.” 

“What happened?” 

You stare at him for a moment, take in the concerned twitch of his brows as they pull down and in, the set of his nice mouth, remarking to yourself on how the snarky sarcasm erases itself from his expression so quickly, leaving behind a boy with a very sweet face. 

His hand curls into a loose fist. “You don’t have to tell me.” 

“I don’t know if you ever get this, but sometimes I,” —your face goes white hot suddenly, an acknowledgment of the powers over you you’re giving him in needing reassurance— “look at myself and I feel a bit off. And I thought if I had lunch by myself I’d have time to not be looked at? Um. Which is why I was unhappy. Not because of you.” You frown at him. “You do make me unhappy, though.” 

He pretends to laugh at your weak insult, which is generous. “So you actually did get upset looking in the mirror? Shortcake, I was kidding about that, it's not like it makes any sense.” 

You frown at one another. “Why not?” 

“Because you’re nothing worth being upset over?” James suggests. “You’re pretty. You know you’re pretty.” He points at you with his fork. “You do know?” 

“No,” you mumble. 

“I’m not telling you again,” he says, looking strangely as though he’d quite like to tell you again. 

“I’m consistently below average.” 

“Where? Do you have an address? I must go to this place where you’re the standard.” 

Something weird and queasy summons to life in your chest, before levelling into a surprising pleasure. That was definitely a compliment, and from James, though annoying he might be, it means a lot. He’s outrageously good looking, after all, and especially when he smiles, which is nearly constant. He’s smiling now with the fondness of someone who knows you better than he actually does. 

He ruins it rolling his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. Which I’ve come to expect!” he says, sliding a thumb under the clasp of his Tupperware. “Why would you think you’re not lovely? To look at, that is. You’re a huge pain otherwise.” 

“That’s uncharacteristically mean, even for you.” 

“I’m balancing it out. Want some asparagus?” 

You excuse yourself for a quick trip to the bathroom, where you mouth questions at your reflection of the puzzled variety. Has James been replaced by a body snatcher? Or are you finally seeing the version of him everybody else in the office seems to know?

When you get back to your desk, your figurines have been upended by a ‘freak earthquake’. He’s back to normal.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

[oxymorayuri]

❞𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞❝

Headcanons with my favorite boyssss [ Ace | Kid | Law | Doffy ] Wordcount » 1234 (lol no way... you see it? 1234...) Info » just cute things ;3

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: Ace: qmech | Kid: skxviii | Law: oyasumi_mofu | Doffy: Hijiki_DaiXt

𝑃𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑔𝑎𝑠 𝐷. 𝐴𝑐𝑒

You both get partner tattoos instead of wedding rings but not something lame like a circle around the ring finger rather something small and personal. You have a little flame on the side of your thigh and he has one on his chest that has something to do with you. Maybe you have a devil fruit or a special weapon? It's up to you :p

You never thought you'd cry at your wedding ceremony because Ace let the most beautiful vows EVER leave his lips. His words were typically Ace and in between your tears he made you laugh. You were almost ashamed when it was your turn because you just wanted to repeat a sentence he once said to you but you changed it a bit… "I'm not interested in living a thousand years, it's enough for me to survive today with you." You spoke. Ace recognized the words immediately and remembered the conversation you shared in the past with a broad grin. He almost yanked you to him and kissed your lips even though the priest hadn't even given his blessing yet. But he doesn't care, he doesn't need the priest's blessings when he has you.

He definitely had his own thoughts about the wedding. For example, he has looked into various traditions… but it seems like he got something wrong… Instead of carrying you bridal style over the doorstep, he carried you all day. As soon as you set foot on the floor to get a new drink, he picked you up in his arms. His statement? "Come on love, when will I have the chance to carry you in your wedding dress again?". Okay that's smooth.

𝐸𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝐾𝑖𝑑

Kid probably would never have proposed to you on his own. You've been together for so long now and every time you've seen a married couple your mood has soured. You were annoyed and also disgusted and one day Killer asked you about it and in the conversation you ironically realized that you also wanted to get married lol… when you were with Kid in his workshop you casually mentioned, that you thought it would be a good idea for the two of you to get married as he was working on one of his new creations. He froze at the word marriage and the next second his machine caught fire because he held the welding rod on it for too long. You both panicked and put out the fire and you realized that he found the topic unpleasant and unnecessary, but you are you and you get everything you want, even if you have to force him! Luckily for you, Killer told you that Kid likes the idea of you committing to him forever, but pshht… otherwise Killer will lose his life.

He will send you away if you want to ask him something about the wedding planning or want his opinion. He'll just tell you that you can do whatever you think is necessary (ugh). You think it's a bit of a shame but you don't mind, you just want him to feel comfortable at his own wedding. After all, it's not just yours. But if it were up to him, he would simply put the ring on your finger and seal your marriage with a big smooch on the lips. But later in the evening you notice that he has circled options he likes or left little notes on your wedding plans and that's when you know you're marrying the right one.

he forges your rings and is quite proud of his work, but secretly nags Killer that he is unsure whether you like the rings. When he saw the sparkle in your eyes and heard your words about how much you love the rings, his heart stopped for a moment only to beat extremely fast. He wanted to marry you right on the spot, but he knows how much love you put into the planning. Happy wife happy life lol.

𝑇𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝐷. 𝑊𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐿𝑎𝑤

A grand wedding with everyone (including the straw hats etc.) is planned, but he has other plans and takes you to the most romantic place to have a wedding ceremony just for the two of you. The party can still take place afterwards with everyone, you are a little social butterfly after all, but the wedding ceremony? That's between you and him <3

Law, similar to Ace, would want partner tattoos instead of real rings but rather in an intimate place where only both of you will see it… if you know what I mean ;) It's safe to say he'll shower your tattoo with kisses everytime when you're getting busy.

He has already seen you (without you knowing it) in your wedding dress. He knew exactly what was going on when you waltzed happily past him with a big package... And even if he hesitated for a moment, he followed you discreetly like a pretty good stalker… He peered through the gap of the door to the room you shared. You were apparently so excited that you hadn't even closed the door. He heard you squealing happily in the bathroom and without really realizing it, he held his breath until you came out of the bathroom. And then you stood there in your beautiful white dress. The feeling in his chest increased rapidly as he watched you twirl in front of the mirror like a princess. Your laughter makes him grin… "I guess she's just as happy as I am that we're getting married..." he thought to himself with a satisfied expression as he let go of the door and walked away. He leaves you a little moment for yourself and your joy, he'll see you walking towards him soon anyway. He is pretty sure that he will never forget that moment. The sight of you walking towards him will be engraved in his brain.

𝐷𝑜𝑛𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝐷𝑜𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑜

You want fireworks that paint your faces in the sky? A thousand white doves that are released when you kiss? A 10 meter high chocolate fountain? A wedding in pink? No problem. Your list is long and you get everything you want. Doflamingo will put together the perfect team to fulfill your every wish. Money doesn't matter, but you do.

You get a ring with a gemstone you've never seen before. Even if you express your doubts that you are afraid of losing this precious ring, Doffy reacts almost insulted. You are the rarest and most valuable gemstone in the world. If you lose the ring, he'll have a new one before you know it.

It's going to be a big big wedding BUT not many people are invited because there's a chance of someone ruining it. Whoever is invited is a big figure or part of the family. Everything is secured but not in an oppressive way. It all plays in the background, because if there were security guards everywhere it would ruin your perfect wedding picture. Nobody is allowed to ruin this day for you and him and if they do, they will pay for it. He also has the wedding broadcast live on TV so that everyone can see that he's marrying the most beautiful woman in the world. How extra.

I hope you enjoyed reading it. See you next time <3

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒚𝒖𝒓𝒊 ♡

#trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #law x reader #one piece #headcanon #portgas d ace #ace x reader #eustass kid #eustass x reader #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo x reader #one piece reader #eustass kid x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #portgas d ace x reader #donquixote doflamingo x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader

[marlenesluv]

Keep It Private. Part 2. (DR)

summary: just some more of you and daniel not being able to keep it in your pants on instagram

warnings: suggestive content

note: i wasn’t gonna make a part 2, but my posts have been getting a lot of love (thank you sm) and you guys seemed to rly like this one! <3 (still trying to reply to comments, but j know i see them all!)

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for part 1! ^

liked by: y/n.ricciardo, charles_leclerc, and 1,891,034 others

tagged: y/n.ricciardo

danielricciardo: big win today in the australian grand prix race. thank you to my team, my fans, my friends, family, and pit crew. but i couldn’t have done it without my wife @y/n.ricciardo. i will be giving you so many orgasms later, and many reasons to have you not stand straight. i love you, my lucky charm❤️

view comments…

oscarpiastri: omg daniel, seriously?

|> danielricciardo: yeah😊

f1fanpage: do i say that they are cute? or disgusting for the pda?….

wagsoff1: congratulations, daniel!!

|> y/nanddanfp: you’re skipping over the whole last part…?

|> wagsoff1: trying to pretend i didn’t read it

maxverstappen1: congratulations, daniel!!

|> danielricciardo: thank you! 😁

y/n.ricciardo: daniel omg my mom follows you now😳

|> danielricciardo: i blocked her, she follows my family one though. its okay😊

|> y/n.ricciardo: oh okay. i love youuu

|> danielricciardo: i love you tooo❤️

|> landonorris: it’s almost like you guys don’t have messages to say this to each other?

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liked by: danielricciardo, lilymhe, and 1,037,956 others

y/n.ricciardo: workout or workout..?🤭

view comments…

francisca.cgomes: you look stunning!💓🫶

|> y/n.ricciardo: thank you kika🥹🫶

f1wags: GOOD LORD THE CAPTION Y/N

danielricciardo: i prefer the second one

|> y/n.ricciardo: what a coincidence! me too!!

|> danielricciardo: im coming home so we can workout rn

|> y/n.ricciardo: YAY

f1updates: you GUYS😳

georgerussell63: the only couple i know without a filter

|> carmenmmundt: they make it work, they’re hot

|> y/n.ricciardo: ily carmen

|> carmenmmundt: ily too babe

_______________________________________________

Daniels BeReal (friends/grid only):

Caption: How mad would she be if i ate her out even tho she’s working?

Reactions:

Comments:

Lando Norris -> dude….

Charles Leclerc -> on the plane??

|> Daniel Ricciardo -> yeah? so?

|> Charles Leclerc -> seems a bit unsanitary

Carlos Sainz -> what the fuck

Pierre Gasly -> get it, daniel!

|> Daniel Ricciardo -> pierreeeeee

Max Verstappen -> i’m not sure what to say.

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liked by: danielricciardo, landonorris, and 1,200,248 others

y/n.ricciardo: congratulations, baby. p1 in australia, our beautiful home country. couldn’t have asked for a better way to celebrate your win ❤️

view comments…

lilymhe: such an adorable couple, congrats daniel!

|> pierregasly: congratulations, daniel !!!

|> danielricciardo: thank you lily, and thank you pierre! congrats on p2 my man

|> pierregasly: YEAHHHH thanks daniel 🙏

f1wags: my couple goals and inspo

danielricciardo: the real win was making you my wife ❤️

|> y/n.ricciardo: damn straight it was

|> danielricciardo: excuse me? you’re gonna regret that miss

|> y/n.ricciardo: WAIT JK JK

|> danielricciardo: mhmm

formula1updates: congratulations on p1, daniel!!!

y/n.fans: parents are slaying tonight

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liked by: y/n.ricciardo, arthur_leclerc, and 2,473,815 others

danielricciardo: happy anniversary to the love of my life, my partner, and my favorite person in the world. i don’t know how i would live without you. i love you, and i cant wait to spend the rest of our lives together❤️

view comments…

charles_leclerc: happy anniversary, guys!

|> danielricciardo: thank you, charles!

fanpage.f1: awwwww, happy anniversary🥹

landonorris: happy anniversary, mom and dad☺️

|> y/n.ricciardo: lando🙃🙃

|> danielricciardo: don’t give her baby fever

|> y/n.ricciardo: too late

|> danielricciardo: wanna make one?

*liked by y/n.ricciardo*

georgerussell63: happy anniversary, you two!

|> danielricciardo: thank you!

f1fan: i cant believe you guys have been together for four years already

|> wagsof.f1: four married and eight total with their dating 🥹🥹

y/n.ricciardo: i love you so much❤️❤️

|> danielricciardo: i love you so much too❤️❤️

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liked by: danielricciardo, carmenmmundt, and 2,013,284 others

y/n.ricciardo: four years ago, you proposed to me while we were at dinner with your friends…translation: four years ago, you made me the happiest, luckiest, and the most loved person in the universe. i cant believe that i’m able to say you’re mine. and now i present my lockscreen for these past four years. i love you more than words can explain, my love❤️

view comments…

pierregasly: i remember that

|> maxverstappen1: yeah, never thought he would propose

|> carlossainz55: it did take him a while

y/nsfans: the lockscreen picture🥹 we finally know what it is. i can now live in peace

wagsf1: you guys don’t get it, im obsessed with this couple

lilymhe: congratulations!! you guys are perfect for each other💓

|> y/n.ricciardo: thank you, lily🥹💓

danielricciardo: i love you so much, thank you for sticking by my side

|> y/n.ricciardo: 🥹🥹🥹

|> danielricciardo: don’t cry, we haven’t had sex yet you can’t cry

|> oscarpiastri: they can’t even stop on anniversary pictures

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(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

#formula 1 #f1 #formula one #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x ofc #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x female reader #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #f1 imagine