#“Shake a leg”. “I got it!!! I got it!!” in reference to the phone). “Take it easy Max”. “Bodacious bigfoot babes”.

[dizzybevvie]

Sam and Max can say literally anything and it will be incorporated into my vocabulary forever

#so many vocal stims from them #i like all theyre VAs but generally their Hit The Road ones r my faves #im still sad they lose the accents going forward or atleast max does #“Shake a leg”. “I got it!!! I got it!!” in reference to the phone). “Take it easy Max”. “Bodacious bigfoot babes”. #stolen so mamy vocal stims from them #i wanna watch the show this weekend cus like!!! i wanna watch it !!! #ALSO the most CURSED vocal stim ive picked up from them is “Do you find my warmth... alarming Sam?” #ALSO #“this doesnt look like the lincoln tunnel sam” #“Should i confront subdue and pummel the suspected perpetrator sam?” #I LOVE THE WAY THEY SPEAK ITS SO PLEASING TO MY BRAIN RAHHH #BFNSBDKDVEJ !!!!!!! #beverly says stuff #sam and max #sam & max #sam & max freelance police #sam and max freelance police

[colormepurplex2]

Shatter With Me | Please, Let Me

↳ Model!Jungkook x Surrogate!f.Reader ⤜ Surrogacy, Best Friend’s Husband ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 28,134 ⚠️ Crass language, talk of infertility, drinking, very mild bullying and references to cruel behavior/words, BIG hurt feelings, accusations of infidelity, rejected/unwanted drunken kissing that could be viewed as dubious infidelity, lies/deceit about fertility, broken marriage, infidelity, talk of divorce/filing for divorce, legal separation, kissing, fingering, cunnilingus, mild dirty talk, mild begging, sex while pregnant, creampie

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You should be dreaming, but an incessant sound keeps pulling you back to the surface of consciousness. Rolling over, you check your phone to see what time it is—2 AM. It takes a moment, but you manage to blink away your sleepy fog and realize the noise is someone rapidly knocking on your door.

“Taehyung, what the hell are you doing here?”

Taehyung looks rumpled, his hair tousled and the soft skin beneath his eyes a deeper shade than usual. He sighs heavily and takes a step back from your doorway. “Because,” he says, throwing a hand out in a gesture towards the floor.

Stepping forward, awkward with the temporary boot on your foot, you lean out into the hall to look at what he’s pointing at. “Oh my god, what’s wrong with him?”

Jungkook is slumped against the wall, his legs sprawled out in front of him. It takes you only a second to realize his shoulders are jumping in quiet, hiccuping sobs.

“Can we come in?” Taehyung asks. “It’s a long story, and I’m tired as shit right now.”

“Well, sure, okay.”

Taehyung gratefully accepts your help, though you’re not sure how much good you do with a bum foot, getting Jungkook through the door. He flops limply on your couch when Taehyung slides his arm from around Jungkook’s waist.

“What the hell happened? Is he drunk?” you ask, recoiling at the stench of whiskey you catch wafting from Jungkook. “Why did you bring him here? Where’s Jiyoon—”

“No!” Taehyung gasps, flailing a hand through the air to cut you off. “Don’t say her name. Please, you’ll set him off again.”

“Too late,” Jungkook sobs from the couch, curling in on himself.

A tug on your shirtsleeve has you turning away from Jungkook. Taehyung jerks his head toward your kitchen and you follow him in there. Worry settles in your chest with the look on his face.

“It’s not good,” he whispers.

“What happened?”

Keeping his voice pitched low, Taehyung fills you in the best he can. “He knocked on my door a few hours ago, completely out of his mind. I was barely able to get him to stop screaming and crying long enough to tell me. And then he downed half my liquor cabinet in less than half an hour.” Taehyung pauses and you can tell he’s collecting himself before continuing, “Jiyoon told him that her baby isn’t his. She’s completely shattered him.”

A tightness grips your chest, your heart pounding hard. You shake your head. “No, no. That can’t be right. Jiyoon wouldn’t—she…she loves him.”

Taehyung scoffs, “She loves what he represents. Don’t pretend we both don’t know all she cared about when they met was that he was a hotshot model with a bright future full of dollar signs.”

“Taehyung, no. I’ve known Jiyoon for most of my life. We’ve been friends since we were kids. She wouldn’t do that.”

The pained way Taehyung says your name tugs at your heart. “I’m going to be honest here, and I need you to know what I say is coming from a place of care. Jiyoon isn’t a nice person. She’s not a good friend—especially not to you. Don’t,” he says when you open your mouth to protest. “I know you care about her, but from what Jungkook told me, she said some really nasty things, about him…and you.”

“Me?”

“She accused him of having an affair with you, that you slept together, and that’s how you got pregnant. That was how she eventually told him about her affair, that her baby wasn’t his. It’s a fucking mess…he’s a mess.”

You have to stifle your incredulous laughter. “You can’t be serious.”

Taehyung puts a hand on your shoulder and turns you to look at where Jungkook is still curled up on your couch, his face buried in one of your throw pillows, body steadily trembling. “I’m serious.”

His words settle like a heavy weight right over the center of your chest. That tightness that was there before increases until you feel like you can barely breathe. “I-I need to talk to Jiyoon. There’s been some sort of misunderstanding, a mistake.”

You go to take a step toward the hallway to retrieve your cell phone from your bedroom but Taehyung’s hand tightening on your shoulder halts your movement. “Maybe it’s best to leave it for now. At least until he’s lucid again. I don’t mean to drop this on your lap, but he wouldn’t stop begging to come here…to come see you, see the baby.”

The baby that he knows is his. Taehyung doesn’t say that, but it echoes through your mind as if he’d shouted it. You’re not sure what to believe at this point. The only things you know for certain are your own actions. It would be easy to crumble right now, to let the weight of everything crush you. But the crying man on your sofa—the one who is not just your client nor your friend’s husband anymore, but who has managed to become someone far more significant in your life and not just because of the baby growing inside you—reinforces the steel in your spine. There will be time to deal with everything else later.

“Okay,” you say to Taehyung. “Thank you for bringing him.” 

After seeing Taehyung out and promising to call him if you need anything, you email Namjoon that you’ll be working on a client case from home tomorrow. For obvious reasons, you intentionally leave out that the client is Jungkook and that the case is one of a broken heart instead of an ad campaign.

You told Taehyung you wouldn't reach out to Jiyoon yet, but you are curious if she’s perhaps tried to reach out to you. The lack of messages waiting for you on your phone is another small crack in the fissures of your waning friendship with Jiyoon. What you didn’t tell Taehyung is that you’ve been feeling this way for a while. You know Jiyoon isn’t always a nice person. But she was still your friend, someone you had spent years of your life loving and being loved by in return. Or so you thought, at least.

With a sigh, you slowly approach the couch, kneeling down beside it. Jungkook stopped crying before Taehyung left, having fallen into a fitful drunken sleep. His body is still wracked with tremors, and his breathing wheezes from between his lips, sounding labored. You gently push his hair out of his face, feeling a pang of sadness at how blotchy and puffed his eyes are even when closed. A red mark mars the side of his jaw, subtle bruising in the distinct rounded curve of small, slender fingertips—she hit him.

“Mm,” Jungkook groans softly, your name rasping out with the sound.

“I’m here.”

His shoulders jump as the quiet sobbing returns. “I’m so sorry,” he chokes through the words. “Please don’t leave me, too!”

“Hey, hey, none of that. You have nothing to be sorry for. Come here,” you coo, helping him sit up so you can sit where his head was on the couch. You open your arms to accept him into an embrace so you can try to console him in some way.

Jungkook launches himself at you. You think it’s a mistake made in haste, his lips landing on yours. But with the gentle way he cups your face and begins to move his mouth in a sensual pluck over yours, you realize what’s happening—what you can’t allow to happen, not now.

“No—uh, no. This isn’t—” You pull back from him, managing to get a hand between your mouths. “Jungkook, no. We can’t do this. You’re hurting,” you say slowly, making sure to keep your eyes focused on his glassy ones. “You’re confused right now, and you’ve been drinking. This isn’t what you want. This isn’t you, no matter what anyone else says.”

Tears course down Jungkook’s cheeks and it breaks your heart to see him hurting like this. “Sorry—” he clears his throat “—yes, you’re right. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me. I’m such a fucking asshole. Jiyoon was right—”

“No. No, she’s not right, Jungkook. Whatever she told you, it’s not right. She’s not right,” you confirm again. “You’ve done nothing wrong. No matter what, know that.”

With a choking sob, he slumps forward into your arms, and you soothe him by running a hand over his hair. Resting back as best you can, you bring your legs up on the couch alongside Jungkook, being mindful of the small boot on your foot, and help him maneuver so he’s lying down beside you, head in your lap.

“What am I going to do?” Jungkook whispers into the silence that follows after a few tightly strung beats.

You try to sound reassuring, but you’re not sure you sound convincing even to your own ears, “It’s going to be okay, Jungkook. I promise we’ll get all of this figured out.”

Even if you’re not sure how you’ll accomplish that, you know you’ll do whatever you can to help Jungkook. This isn’t just his problem; it’s partly yours, too. After all, he’s the father of the child growing inside you and will be a part of your life even after the birth.

“Hi,” Jungkook whispers so softly that it takes you a moment to realize he spoke at all. “It’s me, your dad.” You can feel his lips brushing against your stomach through your nightshirt; he’s talking to the baby. “I love you so much already, and I swear I’ll never leave you…baby boy”

A boy.

You and Jungkook both cried happy tears at the hospital earlier after the tech swiveled the screen back around. It made everything feel that much more real. You vowed to bring life into this world for him and Jiyoon. Whether or not she’ll be in the picture further, you can’t let that color your actions moving forward with Jungkook. He still wants this baby—so do you—and that’s what matters.

Jungkook nuzzles against your hip and presses his face more fully against the side of the gentle swell of your belly. One of his arms wraps around the underside to rest on your opposite hip.

Sleep evades you long after Jungkook falls back into a less troubled slumber than before. Occasionally, he mutters under his breath and his hand flexes against your hip like he’s fighting invisible demons. You can’t even begin to imagine what he’s going through, what his dreams are plagued with…all you can do is promise that no matter the darkness brewing, you’ll remain by his side for as long as he’ll let you.

You can only afford yourself the one day off of work and Jungkook assures you that he is okay on his own. It’s still a little weird to have him staying at your place, but only because neither of you has brought up that night since it all went down. That was three days ago now and you know when you go into the office today that Jiyoon is going to be there. It’s an inevitability of working together, crossing paths with coworkers. It was lucky that she was out of the office all day yesterday.

Taking a deep breath, you prepare yourself for the elevator doors to slide open. As soon as they do, it seems like a hush falls in the office. It feels like your first day of school or something, with the way eyes track you as you make your way to your desk. Something has changed, the atmosphere between yesterday and today is different, and you can’t shake the foreboding feeling now working its way down your throat.

“How embarrassing,” titters a familiar, snide voice from behind you. “Can you imagine showing up to work after what happened?”

Dani laughs at something Sooah, one of the other portfolio managers in the office, says. You can’t quite make it out, but that doesn’t stop the skin along your arms from pimpling and the hair on the nape of your neck from standing on end. Maybe if you go and ask now, feigning some pregnancy-related symptom, Namjoon will let you go home.

“Can you be a bit more professional, Dani? And you know better than to encourage her, Sooah.” The voice of Hyeonwoo from accounting chimes in as he briskly crosses the space between Sooah’s cubicle and continues past yours. “Namjoon doesn’t approve of office gossip, and it’s not above me to ask if he’d care to hear the latest little bird song.”

It seems everyone knows what’s going on, so you shouldn’t be surprised. But you can’t help but feel a little jolt of shock. Jiyoon shares most things with Dani, who has the biggest, loudest mouth in the office. You’d think Jiyoon would have wanted something like her marital problems not to be aired to the entire company.

“No clue what you’re talking about, Hyeonwoo. We were just reading this ‘Am I The Asshole’ thread on Reddit,” Dani sasses, grinning like a Cheshire cat when her eyes flicker to yours over the divider around your desk. “‘Am I the asshole for missing my pregnant wife’s very important doctor’s appointment because I was too busy playing hospital with her best friend, who just so happens to also be pregnant with my baby’. Only he claims it’s ‘not like that’.”

Sooah covers her laugh with a cough. Heat brushes up your neck, and embarrassment laced with a healthy dose of anger simmers in your stomach. They’re talking about you, yes, but that’s not what’s bothering you the most. What hurts more than anything is they seem so callous in talking about your pregnancy—the pregnancy you have because you wanted to help your best friend.

“Oh, Dani, Sooah, Hyeonwoo is right. Stop acting like children talking about things you know nothing about.” Jiyoon’s voice cuts through the uncomfortable silence. “That’s in poor taste, and you both should apologize.” She approaches your desk with a strained smile on her face. “Hey. Don’t listen to them.”

You chew on the inside of your lip before quietly responding, “Because it’s not true?”

“Because they’re just joking, even if they’re not very good at it.”

It’s impossible to know what to say. Jiyoon is talking to you as if there isn’t this giant gaping chasm named Jungkook between the two of you. “A joke?” Waving a hand in the air to dismiss that line of thinking, you turn to Jiyoon and open your mouth, intent to confront her about what’s going on or at least demanding she talks to you about it later, but she starts to speak before you can.

“We should get lunch today—oh, wait, I can’t today. But we should do that soon, okay?” She gives you a sincere smile. “Maybe we can talk baby names.” You’re so taken aback that all you can do is stare at her until she turns around and goes on about her morning like absolutely nothing happened. It’s as if it’s just a normal Thursday in the office.

💔💔💔

Jungkook

If someone had asked Jungkook six months ago where he thought he would be, the last thing he would have said was sleeping on your couch with his marriage in shambles. It’s been three days since he blacked out with his face pressed against your baby bump. Waking up that morning was only slightly awkward.

He’s been keeping himself busy by checking work emails and watching parenting videos on YouTube. Taehyung stopped by the condo for him the morning after, when Jiyoon was at work, and grabbed some of his things. Apparently, Jungkook’s phone fell behind the bench when he was putting on his shoes before he left to go to the hospital to be with you. When he powered it on, he wanted to throw it against the wall and watch it shatter.

The text message he thought he sent to Jiyoon sat there, unsent, in the fucking text box. Taehyung told him that didn’t excuse the way Jiyoon acted. Sure, Jungkook had missed an appointment, but she didn’t even show concern for his well-being. What if Jungkook had been the one in the hospital? He said all she was doing was playing the victim.

Jungkook didn’t want to continue that conversation, almost as much as he didn’t want to reach out to Jiyoon. So, instead of doing either, he’s been focused on other things, like work. You did him a favor and rescheduled a shoot he had later in the week. Thankfully, the brand was willing to be flexible, though he knows not everyone will be.

Which is why he got up this morning, took a shower, and is now on his way to meet Taehyung for lunch. Jungkook needs to get back to some semblance of normality, and food with his best friend is a great place to start. Taehyung is also bringing Jimin, and it’ll be nice to just have a moment of feeling like a human being again.

Taehyung chose a nice bistro just down the street, so Jungkook decided to walk. With every step he takes, he can’t help but swivel his eyes and check every face that passes him. The last thing he wants to do is somehow accidentally run into Jiyoon. Knowing his luck, that’s exactly what would happen no matter how hard he tried.

Thankfully, it seems the world has decided not to hate Jungkook that much today. Jimin and Taehyung are already there, seated at a booth in the back, when Jungkook walks through the door, the overhead bell tinkling brightly.

“Hey, man!” Jimin greets him cheerfully. Jungkook is certain Jimin could field the entire Kim Exclusives brand roster on his own, with his lush lips, soft cheeks, and dark eyes. The stylishly tousled blond-dyed hair helps, too.

Jungkook slides into the seat across from them. “How’s it going?”

“Busy!” Jimin flashes a charming smile. “I booked a brand deal with this pretty big jewelry company, and they want me to attend one of their launch parties this summer. I have five vouchers for plus ones if you’re interested. My manager, of course, gets one. Taehyung has one, and I’ve invited this guy I’ve been talking to for a while, Hoseok. That leaves two tickets unclaimed.”

Jungkook suppresses a smile at the jealous flash in Taehyung’s eyes when Jimin mentions this mysterious Hoseok. It’s cute how Taehyung tries to hide his very obvious crush on Jimin. All it would take is for Taehyung to actually ask Jimin out, and Jungkook knows he’d say yes in an instant.

“There will be an open bar and lots of potential connections to be made,” Taehyung adds, clearly trying to move the conversation along.

“Yeah, you can bring Ji—uh…” Jimin stammers to a stop. The poor guy blanches, clearly worried he might have upset Jungkook by almost talking about someone in particular that they’ve all been pointedly avoiding mentioning.

“It’s okay,” Jungkook tells Jimin. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You can always bring our boss instead,” Taehyung suggests, waggling his brows at Jungkook.

Jimin pops his elbows on the table and leans toward Jungkook. “She’s who you’re staying with right now, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. But, can we not talk about any of that? I just want to feel normal, please. Let’s talk about anything but my fucked up life.”

“Right, sure, of course.”

“No problem, man.”

Jimin and Taehyung shift gears without any issue, and Jungkook is thankful for that. By the time they order food and have eaten, Jungkook is feeling so much better that it doesn’t bother him that much when Taehyung asks him a question that’s close to the taboo subject of she-who-shall-not-be-named.

“When do you think you’ll be coming home?”

Jungkook drums his fingers on the tabletop, not having really given that much thought to it before now. “Honestly? I don’t really know. The condo is in my name, but I can’t just kick…Jiyoon—” he only stumbles over her name a little “—out.”

“I mean, you’re not just going to let her have it, are you?” Taehyung takes a sip of his tea before setting it back down. “You make good money, but you’re not made of giving away entire condos money, Jungkook. We book a lot of the same clients, I would know.”

He’s right; Jungkook knows this. And it’s not like he can stay with you forever. He already feels like he’s invading your space, and it’s only been a few days. Perhaps it’s time for Jungkook to swallow his reservations and seek out some answers. Life isn’t going to stand still for him; he needs to push through it and get to the other side.

“Fuck, man. I know. I’ll contact a lawyer today and see what’s the best course of action moving forward. Gotta start somewhere, right?”

“That’s the spirit,” Taehyung proclaims with an enthusiastic nod. “Don’t let the bitch continue to control your life!”

💔💔💔

You’re not sure you can let another minute pass without confronting the giant, awkward, proverbial elephant in the room. Jiyoon has spent the entirety of the day pretending like nothing is amiss. During the weekly team meeting this afternoon, she sat beside you like she always has, a smile on her face and a hand gently draped over her baby bump—the baby that she told Jungkook wasn’t his.

It’s late afternoon now, and most everyone else in the office has gone home, leaving just you, Jiyoon, Hyeonwoo, and Namjoon. Hyeonwoo and Namjoon are tucked away in one of the conference rooms, going over projections and finance reports, so if you want to have a private moment with Jiyoon, now is your chance.

Her desk is close enough to yours that you don’t need to cross the space, but you do anyway, the five feet feeling more like a mile with every step you take.

“Hey, Jiyoon. Do you have a moment?”

“What?” She taps away at her computer, the screen angled in a way that you can’t see. “Not really a great time. I’m trying to submit the schedule approval for a press tour for Dohyun.” You know Dohyun is one of the high-profile actors that she’s managed for a few years.

That’s not what you were expecting to hear. You were hoping for maybe a bit more receptiveness. Despite knowing that pushing her probably won’t do you any good, you know you need to try. “Jiyoon, please. It will only take a moment. It’s important.”

Jiyoon blows out a breath of irritation. Her mouse click is harsh and exaggerated, and her annoyance is palpable. “Okay, go on.”

“What the hell is going on with you?” you ask, choosing not to sugarcoat the situation and getting right to the point.

Her eyes bulge, clearly surprised by your approach. “Excuse me? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t. You know what I’m talking about, the fact that your husband is sleeping on my goddamn couch and that supposedly that’s not his baby!” you whisper yell, nodding toward her maroon maxi dress-covered belly.

Jiyoon is a few inches taller than you, even more so in the short-heeled pumps she’s wearing. But when she stands up and steps into your personal space, you refuse to back down even though the feeling of her belly pressing to the top of yours makes you want to retreat.

Moments pass in tense silence, her dark brown eyes boring into yours. Finally, she steps back with a soft laugh. “Is that what he told you?”

No. It’s something you’ve been avoiding talking to Jungkook about for obvious reasons. If he wanted to talk about it, he’d bring it up. But, you don’t think Taehyung would have lied to you when he dropped a drunk Jungkook on your doorstep. Taehyung is a lot of things, as you’ve learned over the years, but a liar isn’t one of them.

“It doesn’t matter what he told me. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” Because despite how you might feel, hearing her side seems to be the least you can do at this point. Maybe she’ll provide some crucial bit of information or make any of it make sense.

Her arms cross over her chest, and one of her hips pops out in a classic Jiyoon stance when she’s about to fight using words. “Look, Jungkook and I had an argument. It got heated. We both said some shit we didn’t mean. It’s not the first time, and it probably won’t be the last. That’s just how marriages go.” She says that with a look on her face that says you clearly wouldn’t understand because you’ve never been married. “Sorry that he’s taking up space in your apartment. Tell him to go to a hotel or something if he’s bothering you.” She shrugs. “Things should blow over soon, and he’ll come back home either way.”

“You’ve talked to him?”

“Well, no, but I know him. Everything will be fine. Now, I need to get back to work. You should go home. Put your feet up and rest. It’ll be good for your baby and ankle.” The tenderness and concern in her tone give you whiplash.

Part of you wants to stay and ask more questions, but you’re not sure it’ll do you any good. She didn’t answer your first question anyway—not really, at least. Jiyoon's answer was generic and didn’t provide any sort of details—a half-answer at best. She didn’t confirm nor deny whether what she said to Jungkook about the baby was true, and that, perhaps, should be an answer enough for you.

Your mind is still reeling by the time you get home. But the smell of grilled meat and sauteed vegetables that greets you as you open the door stops the grind wheel in its tracks. Jungkook is in the kitchen, standing at the stove, his back to you. A white shirt stretches over the broad expanse of his shoulders as they move with whatever he’s occupied with. By the sounds of it, he’s moving things around a pan.

Soft music drifts to you from the Bluetooth speaker sitting on the island that separates the living room from the kitchen. Jungkook’s voice mixes with the vocals. It’s a beautiful tenor that could do good for him if he ever stopped modeling.

The last thing you want is to disrupt his peace. You had made up your mind as you traveled home that you would bring up everything with Jungkook tonight, wanting to get it all out in the open and addressed so you knew what to expect moving forward, knew how long he’d be staying with you. 

It’s a conversation that needs to happen, but maybe it can wait…just a little longer.

“Hey,” you call after slipping off your shoe and removing the temporary boot. You only have to wear it for a few more days and really only if you’re going to be doing a lot of walking.

Jungkook spins around, spatula in hand, with a giant grin on his face. “You’re home! I hope you don’t mind. I thought I could at least make dinner. As a thank you for letting me crash here the last few days. I feel bad for invading your space.”

“You don’t have to thank me, though I won’t say no to whatever you’re making. It smells absolutely divine. Is that garlic?”

“Yes! I made some samgyeopsal and japchae. There are also some pajeon staying warm in the oven. Are you hungry? It’s all ready.” He looks at you hopeful, hands clasped around the spatula handle.

Your stomach gives an appreciative rumble. “Most definitely. Let me go change real quick, and then we can eat.”

The domestic feel of coming home to someone making dinner for you in the kitchen sparks you as surprisingly comforting. You’re so used to coming home to an empty space, preparing a small meal, and then spending time with your own thoughts and activities. Having Jungkook here, even for this short of a time, has made you realize how much you enjoy coming home to a space that’s not so empty.

When you make it into your room, you notice there is a silver boutique bag sitting on your bed. Inside there is a sage-colored cashmere button-up cardigan and a pair of butter soft yoga pants with a built-in belly band.

“I thought you might like them. You mentioned last night how you needed a new pair of lounge pants and that you accidentally got sauce on your favorite sweater. I know it’s not much, but I went out to lunch with Taehyung and Jimin this afternoon and saw that cardigan in a window, and it reminded me of you.” Jungkook fills the doorway of your room, his shadow stretching long across the foot of your bed.

“Jungkook, this is—” The cardigan and pants are both softer than probably anything else in your wardrobe, and it’s on the tip of your tongue to tell him it’s far too much, and you can’t accept it, but you realize maybe you need this as much as he does “—wonderful. Thank you.”

There is a soft boyishness to the way he smiles, dropping his eyes from yours as he rubs the back of his neck. “Well, I’ll let you change. I’m going to set the table.”

He disappears back down the hall, and you let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Now, more than anything, you don’t want to tarnish what seems to be turning into a perfect night with a conversation about Jiyoon.

Normally, you would wash clothes before wearing them, but it’s too tempting to try the pants and cardigan on. They both fit perfectly and feel like velvety hugs against your skin. When you come out of your room, Jungkook is sitting at the dining table. Steaming dishes of vegetables, noodles, meat, and onion pancakes sit beside two plates and sets of cutlery. A chilled glass of water and a set of cutlery with a folded napkin sits beside your placemat.

“It looks amazing,” you tell Jungkook as you take your seat. “I didn’t realize you could cook.”

“Because I’m a man?” he asks, raising a brow at you in jest.

“Ha ha, you’re so funny.” You stick your tongue out at him, and he laughs. “Because you’ve never told me.”

“You’ve never asked.” Jungkook serves you first, giving you generous portions of everything.

“Touche. What other talents do you have that I don’t know about?”

Jungkook looks up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Does being really good at video games count?”

“Video games?” you giggle. “I guess that depends on how good we’re talking here.”

Jungkook’s eyes gleam with mischievous intent as he brings them back to yours. “Play me some time and find out.”

You laugh again. “I don’t think that would be a fair assessment at all.”

He grins, his white teeth flashing. “What about you? Do you have any talents I don’t know about?”

There is one thing you’ve never shared with anyone before, and you’re not sure what makes you want to share it with Jungkook, but you find yourself opening up regardless. “I’m not sure if it would be considered a talent. But, have you ever heard of the children’s book series ‘Tales of Buttercup and Biscuit’?”

“Isn’t that the one about the cat and dog that go on secret adventures together but have to hide their friendship because cats and dogs aren’t supposed to get along?”

Your teeth press into your bottom lip, a habit of yours that you’ve tried and failed to break many times. “That’s the one.”

Jungkook looks at you, waiting for you to continue, but you just let it hang there in the air, hoping he’ll put the pieces together. The moment it clicks, you see a spark of surprise in his suddenly wide eyes. “Wait, no. No! That’s you?! My little cousin loves those books. He raves about them all the time!”

“It’s nothing, really. Just something I enjoy in my spare time.”

“A published book series is not nothing,” Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re far too humble. Wow. Just wow. That’s amazing. Your secret talent is definitely way better than mine.”

The conversation continues throughout dinner and carries into a shared dessert of coffee patisseries and vanilla ice cream. Jungkook sits on one end of the couch with you on the other, your feet in his lap as he massages them. The empty dishes from dessert sit discarded on the floor beside the couch.

“That feels good,” you sigh. “I didn’t think my feet would be swelling this much this early on.”

“What does it feel like?” Jungkook asks, his eyes lifting to yours from under his brow as he’s bent over your feet.

“Having swollen feet?”

“Well, not just that, but everything. What’s it like being pregnant?”

You think about it for a moment, wanting to give as best an answer as possible. “It’s hard to say, really. I imagine it’s different for everyone. But, for me, it’s I ate too much food for dinner, if that makes sense? It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but I can tell my stomach is expanding, and my body is making more room on the inside. Sometimes, I think I can feel a flutter, like movement. Right here,” you say, pressing a hand on the right side at the bottom of your bump. “But I read online that since this is my first, it might be a few more weeks before I actually feel any movement.”

Jungkook uses the flat of his thumbs to knead the ball of your left foot. The lotion sitting on the side table has a subtle lilac scent. He squeezes a small dollop in his hand and goes back to work. You know Jungkook is particular about heavy scents, so when he asked for lotion to use while massaging your feet, you grabbed the one with the lightest scent.

“Would you…” Jungkook begins but trails off, pursing his lips as if reconsidering what he was about to ask. “Do you think that when you do start to feel movement—what I’m trying to say is, would you be comfortable with letting me try to feel them, too?”

“Of course. Absolutely. Why wouldn’t—”

The sound of Jungkook’s phone chiming cuts you off. You recognize the ringtone, and suddenly, a leaden weight sits in the pit of your stomach.

Jungkook licks his lips nervously, his eyes flicking between yours and where the phone is tucked into his pocket. “I—uh, I should probably…get that. I’m sorry. Do you mind?” He points down the hall, and you assume he’s asking if he can step into your room or the bathroom for some privacy.

You pull your feet off his lap and give him a quick nod, unsure you can trust yourself not to tell him not to answer it, to beg him to let this spell of peace last a little while longer. Jungkook gives you an apologetic smile before retreating down the hall, his form disappearing into the dark.

A moment later, you hear the distinct click of the bathroom closing and the lock rolling into place. You can’t help but feel like things are about to change, and there isn’t anything you can do to stop it.

💔💔💔

Jungkook

Running a hand through his hair, Jungkook pushes it back from his face before sitting on the lip of the tub and swiping to answer the call.

“Ju-Jungkook?” Jiyoon’s voice cracks through the line and it tears at Jungkook’s heart. No matter how hurt he is right now, he’s never liked the sound of her crying. It’s ingrained in his soul to immediately want to console her, to tell her not to cry and that everything will be okay. Only, any comforting words he might normally say crumble like dust on his tongue. “Jungkook. Please. I can’t do this. I’m…I’m so sorry.”

Over the last few days, when Jungkook did allow himself to think about this moment, he expected to feel some sort of relief with those words. ‘I’m sorry’. Hearing them now, though, the only thing he feels is sorrow.

“I don’t know that I can believe you.” That’s all his mind will allow him to utter in response because it is genuinely the truth.

Jungkook and Jiyoon have been together for around six years. In all those years, not a single day has been spent hating her or feeling anything less than love for her. Sure, there have been dark times, but that’s never been able to truly overshadow his love for his wife.

When they first met, he was captivated by her headstrong and resilient nature. He was drawn to the way she seemed to take charge of a room from the moment she walked in. It wasn’t hard to fall in love with her.

Despite that seemingly rock-steady exterior, Jiyoon also showed him a tender side of her nature that few got to see. She had compassion and loved helping people, volunteering in her spare time to work on humanitarian projects and hosting fundraisers. She once told him that if she didn’t love marketing and media so much, she’d probably have opened her own non-profit to raise awareness for gender inequalities.

It wasn’t until a few years ago that she really started to change. There were fewer of those tender moments and more of the stone-faced, withdrawn woman he knows now. A ghost of who she once was…or maybe just who she was always meant to be—who she really was all along.

“You have every right to say that.” Jiyoon clears her throat, and Jungkook can almost see her dabbing at her face with a tissue, blotting away smears of mascara and eyeliner. “But I am sorry. I didn’t mean all those things I said to you the other night. I was mad, hurt, and lashing out. It…it’s not true, what I said about the baby.”

A twinge of something pangs in Jungkook’s chest. “What?”

“The baby, it is yours, Jungkook. I know you didn’t fuck my friend. God, I can’t believe I accused you of that. I know you’d never do that. I just…I was so mad. I was so mad I couldn’t think straight.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse, Jiyoon.” Jungkook carefully considers his words, trying to be honest without being too harsh. No matter what transpired, Jiyoon is still a person and deserves to be treated as such. “What you said…what you insinuated, that hurt me.”

“I know, baby. I didn’t mean it. Well, I did mean it. I wanted to hurt you, wanted to make you feel like I was feeling, but only because you hurt me first. And I know that’s silly, awful, and childish. I just couldn’t stop myself once I had started.” Jiyoon sighs, the sound exhausted. “The baby is yours, Jungkook. I swear.”

“I want to believe you, Jiyoon, I really do. I’m just not sure you saying sorry is enough. That’s not just something you spout out off the handle, most lies hold a semblance of truth.”

Jiyoon hums softly, and Jungkook knows she’s trying to collect her thoughts and form them into words. “There…is some truth in what I said—” she pauses when Jungkook lets out a heavy breath “—but not like that, not about the baby. The truth is in the fact that I was scared, and intimidated by the way you care so much about another woman. And yes, even if that woman is my friend.”

“She’s carrying my child, a child she agreed to carry for us. Of course, I’m going to make sure she is taken care of and want to be a part of as much of the process as possible. I thought you were also doing that? Don’t you talk to her, spend time with her, bond over pregnancy? It’s the same thing.”

She doesn’t immediately answer. Then, “Probably not as much as I should have.”

Jungkook is taken aback by this revelation. He thought surely the two of you were in constant contact and sharing the experience of it all together. You haven’t brought up anything that would make Jungkook think otherwise, but then again, he’s never bothered to ask either.

“You can’t expect me to distance myself or treat her any differently when she is carrying something that is meant to be so precious to the both of us.” Jungkook means that with his entire being. If anything, he thinks he could even treat you better than he currently does, and make more of an effort in some areas.

“It’s…just hard, okay? I know it’s not an excuse, but you kept missing my appointments because you were busy spending time with her instead. I know the last time it was an emergency and I take full responsibility for my actions and the words I said. But, I promise, everything I said was just out of anger. I mean,” she laughs, the sound lightly incredulous and humorless, “why would I accuse you of cheating and then immediately confess to cheating? That’s kind of silly when you think about it, right?”

Jungkook did consider it when trying to make it all make sense. But he just chalked it up to Jiyoon possibly projecting her own actions and guilt onto Jungkook when she accused him, to begin with. The fact that her tactic changed to say the worst possible thing to hurt him just seems par for the course.

“I guess, maybe.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders even though Jiyoon can’t see him. “I don’t know what to think anymore, to be honest with you.”

Jiyoon sniffles, her voice rough with tears, “I understand that. I accept that. And I promise to make it up to you. Just come back home, and we can work through it.”

That would be the easy thing to do…but also maybe the last thing he should do. Jungkook is aware that Jiyoon knows his weaknesses. All it would take is a few well-placed words, and he’d forgive her completely and forget that all this had even happened. It’s happened before, perhaps more than it should have.

That is why he says, “I don’t know, Jiyoon. I don’t think that’s a good idea—not right away, at least.”

“Jungkook. Please,” she cries. “Please, I feel like I’m losing my mind. I feel like I’ve lost you and…and I can’t, I just can’t. I love you so much. I’m so sorry, I’ll do whatever it takes. Just, please, please…” Her desperate pleas turn into incoherent sobs.

“Hey, hey,” Jungkook coos, his deeply ingrained instincts kicking in despite knowing he should try to hold out. “Calm down, shh, hey, deep breaths. Just like that, good. Come on, one more. Smooth, calm.” Once her cries have subsided into hiccuping spurts, Jungkook takes a deep breath and offers the only thing he can right now, “How about we take things slow? Maybe we can meet for lunch at the end of the week if you’re not too busy with work.”

“O-okay, yeah. Yes, please. Okay, let’s do that, I’ll clear my schedule,” Jiyoon accepts quickly, voice still thick with emotion but Jungkook can hear the smallest hint of a smile in her words.

By the time Jungkook leaves the bathroom, you’re no longer sitting on the couch. The leftovers from dinner have been put away, and the kitchen has been cleaned up. A wave of guilt-laden regret washes through Jungkook. He feels bad you did all the cleanup by yourself.

Tonight had started out so promising. It would be an injustice for Jungkook not to admit he enjoyed tonight more than he has any night in the last few years. You’re just so easy to be around, so soft and calm, your energy a pleasant buzz instead of a trumpeting cacophony like Jiyoon's. It’s a wonder you’ve been friends with her for as long as you have, being near complete opposites. Yet…not in a bad way.

Jungkook swallows hard at that revelation. Maybe he can blame the falling out on feeling disconnected from Jiyoon and more connected to…well, to someone who isn’t his wife.

It’s a startling realization—one that leaves him tormented with uncertainty and falling into a sleep so fitful it tempts him to knock on your door. The closest he gets is standing outside your closed bedroom door, his fist poised, hovering over the hardwood. But, in the end, he crawls back into his makeshift bed on the couch and doesn’t sleep a wink.

Jungkook wants to talk with you about his conversation with Jiyoon, but there hasn’t been a moment of freedom to do more than the typical day-to-day check-in. He doesn’t want to just say, ‘Oh, hey, by the way, Jiyoon said she lied, and we’re going to have lunch to talk it out in a few days.’ It’s a conversation that definitely needs more time and grace.

To make up for the shoot you rescheduled for him since he’s now feeling much better, Jungkook decided to take on a last-minute speaking engagement at the grand re-opening of a downtown shop that has a contract deal with one of his brands.

After hours of smiling and posing for pictures, Jungkook met with Taehyung for lunch and then lost himself for a few more hours at the gym of your apartment complex while he waited for you to get home. When he finally returned to your place, a covered dish of food, still warm in the oven, was waiting for him, and you were already in bed.

As Jungkook eats the food you prepared for him, he can’t stop kicking himself for the opportunity lost. He really wants to talk to you before meeting with Jiyoon for lunch tomorrow. He values not only your opinion on the whole situation but also the fact that you know Jiyoon nearly as well as, if not more than, he does. So, he hopes he can catch you in the morning before you go to work. Unless…you’re intentionally avoiding him, a thought that hits deeper than maybe it should.

💔💔💔

You hate being late to work, but when you woke up this morning your stomach had plans you couldn’t exactly foresee. In between moments of hugging the toilet, you manage to send Namjoon an email letting him know you’ll be a little late this morning.

Thirty minutes later, feeling marginally better, you finish getting ready and are surprised to catch Jungkook in the kitchen making breakfast. You’ve not necessarily been avoiding him, but you’ve also not not been. You might have overheard the tail-end of his conversation with Jiyoon two nights ago and haven’t been able to shake this foreboding feeling ever since.

“Good morning,” you say as you slip past him and start to make a cup of tea.

Jungkook looks at you over his shoulder. “Morning. You feeling okay?”

“I just had a bit of a spell this morning. I’m feeling much better now. I'm just going to make my tea to-go and then be on my way.” 

“Hey, um, do you think we could talk? I’ve been meaning to bring it up since the other night, but I just…timing hasn’t exactly been on my side, and well…”

“I got a few minutes, sure. I already emailed Namjoon to let him know I would be coming in a bit late today.”

“Great. Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll finish your tea, and I also made some muffins,” he says, shooing you toward the dining table before turning back and opening the oven. The smell of fresh banana muffins wafts to you and makes your mouth water.

“So, what’s up?” you ask when Jungkook sits down.

You watch him prepare your tea, adding the perfect amount of honey and cream. It’s such an insignificant thing, tea, but the fact Jungkook knows how you like yours, makes you feel good…really good.

“Well, we haven’t exactly talked about everything that happened. Taehyung told me he filled you in on what all I told him, but I don’t know if he told you…everything.”

It’s hard not to let the topic of conversation sour your mood. But this is a conversation you know has needed to happen, so you begrudgingly don’t pull away from it. “He told me that Jiyoon told you…about her baby and then something about me and you.” That’s a very vanilla version of it, but you don’t want to say any more details than necessary.

“Right. That’s the gist of it. She apologized to me the other night when she called. She claimed she only said those things out of anger and because she was hurt. It was her way of hurting me for hurting her. I guess I haven’t exactly taken her feelings into account with some stuff lately, and when I missed her twenty-two-week appointment, she lost it and said all those things to get back at me for it.”

Jungkook makes it seem so innocent, so cut and dry…so, forgivable.

“I see.”

“I’m having lunch with her today, so we can talk some more. She wants to work things out and asked me to come back home.”

You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that the metallic zing of blood coats your tongue. “And are you?”

“Going to lunch, yes. Back home? I don’t know. I have to go home sometime, I suppose.”

The confusion on Jungkook’s face is clear to you, like he doesn’t know up from down when it comes to what he wants right now. But you also see resignation, like he knows it’s inevitable that he’ll be back home soon, whether or not Jiyoon is there, too.

“I…okay, I understand that.” It’s not your place to beg him not to go. Jungkook is his own person and can make his own decisions. However, what you can do is tell him how it makes you feel. “Just know, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like. I know sleeping on the couch probably isn’t super comfortable, but I’m just saying. You always have a place here, no matter what. I’m sure there are a lot of things you and Jiyoon need to discuss, just—” you sigh, pressing on even though you’re not sure if Jungkook will be receptive to your criticisms “—be careful. Don’t accept something because it’s the easy way, be sure it’s something you want and that you protect yourself above all other things.”

It’s possible you’re seeing what you want to see, or maybe it’s really there, but for a moment, you’re certain there is a flash of something more in Jungkook’s eyes—something that says he wishes you told him not to do it. But it’s gone before you can decide if it was there or just your imagination.

When you finally make it in, Jiyoon is floating around the office like a fairy. Her chiming laugh fills the space, and she’s absolutely glowing in her pregnancy. Everyone in the office says so, complimenting how luminous her skin is and how shiny her long black hair looks. You’ve gotten some compliments, too, but they’ve been mixed in with whispers and office gossip.

Even before Junkook and Jiyoon had their falling out, seemingly everyone found out about what you offered to do for them. When Jiyoon first revealed that you were pregnant with a baby for her and Jungkook, one specifically composed of your DNA and his, the entire office seemed to have an opinion about it—not all positive, either.

There are quite a few different options for surrogacy available thanks to the advances of modern medicine, and the method that Jungkook presented to you is the one that he believes suits the fertility issues Jiyoon was facing the best.

When it first came out, Namjoon had taken you aside into his office to talk about the implications of having a more than professional relationship with a client and how important it is to maintain boundaries, the typical HR spiel to which you politely agreed and promised him things weren’t going to interfere with work. You wonder now if you need to have another conversation with Namjoon about not being able to keep that promise, considering recent events.

Jiyoon catches your eye as she picks up a small pink bag from Dani’s desk, a bright smile on her face. “Hey, you!” she calls to you.

“Hey,” you mutter in response, still unsure how you feel about everything Jungkook told you this morning. You know it’s entirely possible. Blowing something out of proportion is exactly Jiyoon's thing to do. She loves to wound with words, lashing out with a viper tongue when the mood suits her.

“Can we talk for a minute?” she asks, stepping close to you and lowering her voice.

”Yeah, sure.”

”Great, let me just put this on my desk real fast.” She gives the pink gift bag she got from Dani a little shake.

You follow her to where your desks are. She drops off the pink present, and it joins a scattering of other pastel pink and yellow wrapped gifts or baggies. A sinking feeling hits you, and you mentally connect the dots to what that could possibly mean.

“A girl?”

Her eyes are vibrant when they meet yours. “Yeah, isn’t it exciting? A daughter.”

A sister.

Knowing your son could possibly have a sister should be exciting. Yet…if it’s supposed to be exciting, then why do you suddenly desire to run away and hide to protect your son? Also, since when did you start thinking of the baby as yours? You shake away that thought, clear your throat, and plaster on a strained smile.

“Exciting, yeah. Congratulations. If I had known we were bringing gifts today, I would have grabbed something.”

“Oh, nonsense. But, about what I wanted to talk to you about,” she says, waving a hand to dismiss what you said about the gift.

You wait for her to go on, but she glances around and then takes your arm and tugs you closer to the supply closet on this side of the office, notably as far away from your coworkers as you can get without going to the restroom or Namjoon’s personal office.

“What is it?” you ask, crossing your arms under your breasts. It breaks her hold on your arm, but the tightening feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach says you also feel like you need a hug, and your own arms are the best you have right now.

Her voice is pitched low, her body angled so her back is more to the office space and any curious eyes. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. Genuinely, and truly. You are my best friend, and I know I’ve been less than stellar with you for a while now. Everything got away from me, and I was acting out, being a bully, and just a horrible person all around. Then everything with the babies and all the issues between Jungkook and I, and well…I know that doesn’t justify how I acted, but now Jungkook is upset with me, and I don’t know what to do. I just thought that maybe—well, if things were okay between us, then maybe he’d come home. I didn’t realize what I said to him would hurt you, too. I thought you would have known better since we’ve been friends for so long.”

Once upon a time, you would have said without a doubt that you could tell when Jiyoon was being dishonest with you or not. Now, however, you’re not so sure. You wish Jungkook were here so you could look to him for his opinion, which has been something you’ve come to greatly appreciate.

“Okay, I guess. Thanks for apologizing.” This comes out more as a question than a statement, but it seems to satisfy Jiyoon.

“Great! I’m glad you understand and that we’re on the same page. So, you’ll tell him to come home? Oh, and I meant what I said the other day. We should have lunch sometime soon. I’d love to chat about how the next few months are going to go. We’ll have to figure out how to coordinate bringing my babies home. Can’t be too prepared, right? Plus, it’ll be here before we know it.”

Your spine straightens, and your muscles tense as Jiyoon throws her arms around your neck and hugs you. For the second time in a matter of days, the press of her stomach against yours makes you uncomfortable. Something isn’t sitting right with you, this whole interaction feels off, and you just can’t put your finger on why.

Patting her on the back lightly, you disengage and give her what you hope is a polite smile before telling her you need to get some work done. There is something about this interaction, something about Jiyoon, that just…has your alarm bells going off. Everything about the last few months has you rethinking a lot of things…and perhaps the first thing on that list should be your friendship with Jiyoon.

As soon as you sit at your desk, your first reaction is to pull out your phone and text Jungkook. But, you stop yourself, leaving the device in your bag. Jungkook told you he was having lunch with Jiyoon today, and you don’t want to bother him with something that is probably nothing.

If, by the end of the day, you still can’t shake this unsteady feeling, then you vow to allow yourself the grace to bring your feelings and concerns to Jungkook. Not in the hopes of persuading him in any way, but to hopefully have an outside perspective on whether or not you’re reaching here.

Something does feel off. But maybe that something is you and what is turning out to be the not-so-tiny, very significant, completely not-harmless crush you have on Jungkook. The fact that you don’t even want to think of him as your friend’s husband anymore is quite telling in and of itself.

💔💔💔

Jungkook

There have been times in Jungkook’s life when he wished he could go back in time and change things. It hasn’t happened often, but when it does, the thing he would change is always life-altering in some way.

For instance, he would go back in time and change the way he approached the subject of wanting to have children with Jiyoon. Or, rather, he might even go back to before they got engaged—which was maybe too soon itself, considering they got engaged and married within a year of first meeting—and insist they talk about their future wants and desires to make sure that they aligned.

Jungkook isn’t sure why it took him so long to think about it, but with everything that has happened in the last few months, he can’t help but look back on it now. He’s sitting in his car, waiting for Jiyoon to arrive at the BBQ place she chose for lunch. It was still thirty minutes until their agreed-upon time, but Jungkook had nothing else to do.

So, here he is, with his thoughts. Jungkook brought up the desire of wanting to have children four years into their marriage, which was two years ago now. Two years, that feel like two decades, of an uphill battle in which Jungkook thought he and Jiyoon were on the same page. Only, that wasn’t always the case.

It seems so vague a memory now, but it’s there nonetheless. Jiyoon expressed her own thoughts about children; she didn’t want them. At least, not so soon. He’s not sure if he can place the moment in their marriage when she changed her mind, because it all feels so seamless to Jungkook.

Thinking back on their journey, Jiyoon suggested they start trying more often. However, Jiyoon also took their passionate moments of indulgence and made them into robotic meetings of anatomy. Jungkook definitely remembers that pivotal moment in their relationship.

Perhaps that is something else he would go back and change. He’d approach the idea of seeking medical assistance differently. He wouldn’t have gone behind Jiyoon’s back and sought answers she wasn’t ready to have. Maybe if he’d have been more delicate about it, the schedule would have never come into play.

As with all thoughts about changing the past, he can’t help but wonder whether what happened was a good thing. After all, if the child Jiyoon is carrying is indeed his, maybe it was the schedule that helped in the end anyway.

With so many thoughts, Jungkook feels like he might drown if he continues with all the what-ifs and whys of it all. Turning on his radio, he reclines his seat and brings up the camera roll on his phone. This has turned into one of his favorite pastimes, scrolling through all the happy images and memories he has saved here.

His thumb pauses, hovering over one of the more recent shots. The day he found out he was having a son, the day his world upended just a few hours later. Your smiling face, unshed tears in your eyes, pressed close to his, the ultrasound tech having insisted on capturing the delicate moment of pure rapture when you and Jungkook got to see that you were growing his son inside of you.

There are a few other shots of you, candid moments Jungkook captured because one day, no matter what anyone else thinks, he’s going to tell his son where he came from and show him the beautiful, thoughtful, and selfless woman who helped Jungkook create him. What better way to do that than through moments forever rendered in technicolor? Just to be safe, Jungkook clicks through and adds them all to his cloud.

Jungkook notices with a bitter pang of disappointment that he has so few pictures of Jiyoon pregnant. Anytime she catches him trying to take one, she gets really upset. The last time it happened, she cried, locked herself in the bathroom, and wouldn’t come out no matter how much Jungkook apologized. He didn’t see her until the next morning. 

He nearly drops his phone as it chimes with an incoming text message from Jiyoon. She is inside and waiting for him, it says. Knowing this is the right step forward, Jungkook rights his seat and climbs out of the car, heading inside.

“Hey, over here!” Jiyoon calls to him as soon as he steps past the host stand.

As always, she looks gorgeous. The plum-colored off-the-shoulder cable-knit sweater compliments the soft flush in her cheeks, and the black slacks accentuate her long legs. It’s hard to see her bump through the sweater, the fabric chunky in an intentional way.

She resumes her seat when he starts her way. “Hey,” Jungkook replies, taking the seat across from her.

“I went ahead and put in an order for the honey pork and beef. I hope that’s okay.”

“Sure, sounds great.” Jungkook clears his throat a few times, not sure what else to say. He pours himself a glass of water and begins to pour Jiyoon one before he even realizes it. It’s just so natural for him to do so.

“Thanks.” She gives him a smile as she accepts the glass. “And thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”

One of Jungkook’s shoulders kicks up in a half-shrug. “We have to talk sometime. And sooner is probably better than later.” A muscle feathers along his jaw as he clenches it. “Where would you like to begin?”

Jungkook feels like maybe he’s being a bit too cold or standoffish to Jiyoon, considering their near seven year history and the fact she’s his wife, for crying out loud. But, if he’s being honest, he’s still not over all the bullshit she said and the way she acted.

“Would you like to know the gender?” she asks hesitantly. Her right hand comes down and forms the front of her sweater over her belly, making it stand out.

Does he want to know? Yes. Of course, he does. No matter what has transpired, whether true or not, the baby is innocent in this.

“I would.”

The prominent thump of his heart echoes in his ears as Jiyoon slides a small, facedown picture across the table. “You can keep it if you want…I have a copy.”

With a slow exhale, Jungkook pinches the corner of the photo and turns it over. It’s so similar to many of the other grainy, black-and-white ultrasound images he’s seen over the last several weeks. But right there, toward the top right corner, is a single word, white text floating in the abyss of the static-like scan.

Girl.

“A girl,” Jungkook whispers, the word rushing from his mouth like he caught a fist in the gut. That fist moves up and takes a stranglehold on his heart next. It’s almost painful to breathe. Everything that was before, seems so much less significant now.

“Our daughter,” Jiyoon confirms, reaching out and gripping his free hand that was trembling on the table.

Tears sting Jungkook’s eyes, and he has to blink several times before he’s certain they won’t drip onto the photo. The first thought he has when everything comes rushing back in is that he needs to tell you, and wants to share in this joy with you. “My son is going to have a sister.”

He must have spoken aloud because Jiyoon lets out a startled gasp. “Your son? You mean the other baby is a boy?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Didn’t you know? I just thought maybe…” Jungkook trails off because he’s come to learn better that Jiyoon isn’t quite the friend he thought she was to you. It wouldn’t surprise him one bit if Jiyoon hadn’t spoken to you at all in the last week since everything went to shit.

Jiyoon sighs. ��I did talk to her today—earlier, in fact. But we didn’t talk about the babies, not really. I…uh, I apologized to her for what I said and how I’ve been acting.” Her nose twitches as she sniffs, averting her gaze from Jungkook’s. “I’ve been such a shit friend lately, and after everything with you, I knew I needed to make it right. Or at least start trying to make it right. Everything has just happened so quickly, I feel like I’m drowning sometimes. And…a-and when my life preserver—” her eyes flick back to his for a moment, and he knows she means him “—isn’t there, I panic, and I guess that means I try to bring the whole ship down with me. I meant what I said, Jungkook, I am sorry about everything. What I said was awful, and that’s not the kind of person I want to be, not the kind of mother I want to be for our children. Will you come home? Please? I don’t want to spend another night alone in our home.”

“Maybe…I guess I can sleep in the guest room for a while? You know, just until I can get my head back on straight.”

“You mean that?” she asks, her grip tightening on his hand.

Looking back down at the photo still pinched between his fingers, he knows what the right thing to do is. There might still be a small sliver of doubt, but this baby—this little girl—deserves for him to give her a chance.

“Yeah, I mean that.”

💔💔💔

When Jiyoon returns to work after her lunch with Jungkook, that intense feeling from before increases. She’s far too happy right now for having just had lunch with the husband she shattered less than a week ago. You tap the screen on your phone, which sits on your desk, and you’re tempted to text Jungkook and ask him how it went. But a shadow falling over your desk draws your attention away.

“I brought you back something,” Jiyoon says with a smile, offering you a white paper bag.

You catch the scent of cinnamon and sugar as you accept the bag. A peek inside reveals a large pinwheel wrapped in wax paper, the bottom of the bag is warm, so you know it’s fresh.

“Um, okay. Thanks.”

“Jungkook mentioned that you’ve developed a bit of a sweet tooth thanks to Little Man. It’s probably not as good as his homemade banana bread, but I know you like cinnamon rolls, so I thought you might enjoy a treat.” She leans against the wall partition that separates your desk from hers. “I know I can’t seem to stop snacking on pretzels. Cute, right? Salty and sweet, already the perfect duo.”

Of course Jungkook would have told her the gender of the baby. You may not have signed the legal papers just yet, but there is no way you can even begin to think about keeping this baby from Jungkook. So, if with Jungkook comes Jiyoon, then you���re going to have to try to come to terms with some things or at least have a very open and meaningful conversation with them both. That’s something that strikes you suddenly, realizing that not once since you agreed to do surrogacy for them have all three of you sat down together to talk.

“So, lunch went okay?” You can’t help but ask. The need to know is far too great. This is a good segue into hopefully asking if the next lunch can include all three of you.

Jiyoon presses the tips of her fingers to her forehead. “Thankfully, yes. You’ll be happy to hear Jungkook is coming back home tonight, so he’ll be out of your hair soon. I, um, I hope things are okay between you and me. I know an apology doesn’t really do much, but I have another peace offering to go with the gooey goodness in that wrapper,” she beams, tapping the bag sitting on your desk.

Another peace offering? You have no idea what that could possibly be. “You have something else?”

Jiyoon leans toward her desk, and you hear the sound of papers shuffling before she produces a sheaf of papers. “It’s a birthing plan! I thought maybe making up your plan would help take that stress off of you. Especially considering our situation is a pretty special one. Everything there is what I would like to happen, but of course, if you need to add anything, that’s fine, too.”

There are easily a dozen papers stapled together here. It’s a detailed, bulleted list of requests. It covers everything from who is allowed in the birthing room and who cuts the cord to whether or not you can have an epidural and if you can hold the baby right after birth.

You scan the pages, your eyes snagging on at least every other word. Jiyoon wants Dani in the birthing room? She wants a doctor to cut the cord so the baby can be immediately given to her for skin-to-skin contact. Jungkook is allowed in the room, but only if he’s standing where he can’t see the birth. In parentheses beside that, there is ‘because it’ll be weird if he watches the baby come out’.

No epidural and only a heparin or saline lock for administering fluids if necessary. She wants you to be able to move around while in labor, but it’s listed that you’re only allowed to labor on your back so Jiyoon can watch her son being born. You’re only allowed to use a birthing ball, and absolutely no warm baths or showers.

In the event of a cesarean, Jiyoon will be the only one allowed into the operating room for support. The baby is to be fed exclusively breast milk but not directly from the breast. Below that is a list of top-of-the-line breast pumps and where to order them.

“Jiyoon. Are you serious?”

“What is it? What’s wrong with that? Do you not like it? Like I said, you can add things if you want. But, it would be nice if you let me know before you did. This is really the perfect plan and exactly what I want for my baby.”

Jiyoon huffs, her bottom lip poking out as she frowns at you shaking your head slowly. 

“No epidural?”

“I’ve read that they can have some complications. Do you really want to take that risk?”

You poke the paper, your finger jabbing at one of the other things listed. “You want Dani in the room? She and I aren’t even friends.”

“Well, she’s my friend. It’s not like she’s going to be all up in your vagina. She’ll just be there to support me.”

“Support you?! Jiyoon, I get that this would be a special day for you, but I’ll be the one giving birth—which I see here you have it listed that you want me to try and get induced two weeks early? Why would I do that? My doctor says the only time we would want to induce early is if something is going on or, in some cases, of gestational diabetes, and my glucose test isn’t for another month.”

Jiyoon looks at you like you just grew a second head. “I thought I was doing you a favor!”

“Jiyoon, this isn’t doing me a favor. T-this…this isn’t a favor. This is you trying to control things that should at least be something we both consider. What if I don’t want any of this? Shouldn’t what I want matter, too?”

This has to be a joke.

“I thought what you wanted was to have a baby for me?”

You push back from your desk, tired of literally sitting here and taking this. “You could have talked to me about this. But it sounds like you’re not wanting to give me a choice. You said I could add things, not that I could take them away, too. Is that it?”

“Look, there’s a certain way I want my son to be brought into this world! Is that so bad? You’re acting like I’m asking you to do something insane.”

The heat licking its way across your cheeks is a product of pure anger. Maybe you shouldn’t be getting this bent out of shape over this. Jiyoon seems to have the best intentions with her list, but you can’t help but think that not once in this entire process has she asked what you want. In the beginning, you were constantly trying to talk to her and include her. Even if it was just a text message since she was so busy. Yet, she hasn’t once returned that in kind. Now this? You can’t do it.

“Ladies, is everything okay?” Namjoon’s baritone breaks through the silence that had fallen between you and Jiyoon.

You only realize now that the entire office is quiet, listening to you and Jiyoon volley words back and forth. A few throats clear, and people resume pretending to ignore the two of you, but it’s clear anyone within a twenty-foot radius was just eavesdropping in on the drama.

“It’s fine, Namjoon,” you say, meeting his eyes before turning back to Jiyoon. “Maybe we can talk more about this when we’re not at work?”

Jiyoon purses her lips, her eyes narrowing slightly, but she nods. “Sure, yeah. We can do that.”

No further opportunity presents itself for you and Jiyoon to talk. Not today, at least. It also could be that you weren’t exactly looking for an opportunity to do so. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about that stupid list.

Even now, you clutch it in one of your hands as you unlock your apartment door with the other. You don’t necessarily want to cry to Jungkook about it, more just have a conversation with him. Find out whether or not he’s aware of everything Jiyoon wants to impose on you.

Because that’s exactly what it is, what it feels like. This isn’t a birth plan, it’s a list of demands that do not take your wants or needs into consideration in the slightest.

“Everything okay?” Jungkook’s voice breaks through your mental tirade.

You stop in your tracks, eyes snapping up to meet his. Jungkook is standing in your living room, a small pile of laundry sitting on the couch that he seems to be in the middle of folding.

It takes you a moment to decide how to answer him. All the while, his eyes remain open and vulnerable on yours. You chew your lip, feeling angry tears prick at the backs of your eyes.

“No.”

The moment that word is out of your mouth, tears follow it, coursing down your cheeks in hot, twin streaks. Jungkook abandons the shirt in his hands and crosses the living room to you in an instant. His hands land on your shoulders, and his eyes flick over your face and body, searching for signs of anything physically wrong.

“Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Your fist tightens around the list before you hold it up and offer it to him. “Have you seen this?”

Jungkook takes the sheaf of paper and quickly scans the first page before flipping through the others. “A birth plan? Did you make this?”

“Jiyoon did. Apparently, these are the things she wants—no, demands—for when I give birth.”

“What?” His eyes come up to meet yours. “Some of this stuff is kind of…I don’t know, like this,” he says, pointing to the fifth bullet on the page. “Getting induced two weeks early? Shouldn’t that be a decision your doctor talks to you about? Also, support persons who are allowed in the room. I can understand Jiyoon and me, maybe her parents, sure. But Dani? I didn’t even think you and Dani were friends like that.”

“Because we’re not. This entire list is everything she wants, her support people, her wishes for how things go, and not once has she asked me what I want.” Your voice rises in pitch as you plow on, “I guess it doesn’t matter, though, does it? Because, as she’s made it clear, it’s not my baby, after all.”

Jungkook shakes his head, a muscle along his jaw ticking as he presses his lips into a thin line. “Don’t say it like that. You matter. This matters. You need bodily autonomy over a lot of these decisions. And if you don’t want someone in the room, they won’t be. If you want an epidural, as long as the doctor says it’s okay, then it’s okay. That’s what’s important. What you want and what the doctor says is okay. I’m sorry she did this. I’ll talk to her about it.”

“Because you’re going home, right?” You don’t mean to sound so sad when you say it, but it slips out before you can control your emotions. Maybe it’s the hormones, but the swinging from hot to cold makes you want to scream. You’re usually such a well-collected person.

“I—” Jungkook hesitates, his eyes searching yours “—I need to. What Jiyoon did isn’t right, and going home isn’t me accepting her apology and forgiving her. But I can’t keep sleeping on your couch. I’m going to stay in our guest room as I work through the mess inside my head.”

You know he can hear the resignation in your voice. “Okay, if that’s what you think is best.”

“I think I do. But…there is only one way to be certain, right? Clearly things have been coming to a head between Jiyoon and me for a while now. I’m sorry you’re now in the middle of this. That’s the last thing I wanted when I asked you to be our surrogate. I can’t say that enough, this was never how it was supposed to be.” To your surprise, Jungkook slowly wraps his arms around you. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, Jungkook, that’s okay. Thank you.”

“I promise I’m going to talk to Jiyoon about that birthing plan. It’s unacceptable. You matter, okay? You’re important.”

Maybe to him, you are. But to Jiyoon? You’ve never been more unsure of where you stand. The friend you once knew is not the same woman who has been parading around in the guise of your best friend. You’re not sure who she is anymore…or if you want to give her your baby.

“And Jungkook?” you say as he turns away to go back to his laundry. “Be careful, okay?” You allow yourself a moment of vulnerability, brushing your fingers across the cut of his jaw, where just a week ago, there rested another reason for your uncertainty.

Your heart stutters in your chest at his small nod of acknowledgement. A truth, one you had hoped would remain speculation, reflects in his wide, doe eyes. An uncertainty now confirmed, another crack in the foundation…you’ve never been more scared to shatter.

💔💔💔

Jungkook

Moving back home might have been a mistake. Jiyoon is clingier than ever, but it’s not in a way that feels natural to Jungkook. He once found so much joy in her tender affection and gentle touches. Now, however, he can’t help but pull away, giving her as polite a smile as he can.

There is something that has been bothering him that he can’t seem to make sense of. Ever since he moved back home a week ago, Jiyoon has completely and utterly changed her tune. Not once has she said a biting remark or yelled at him. Not that he’s complaining, per se. It’s just completely thrown him, he’s not sure how to process it. She’s almost being too nice.

Hell, she even gracefully accepted his explanation as to why the birthing plan she made was unacceptable. Jungkook tried to keep a level head when you showed him that ridiculous list, but he was so mad he could hardly think. The only thing that kept him from losing his mind was the fact he knew you needed him more than he needed to be mad. He’s still not sure what the hell Jiyoon was thinking when she made it. But, she didn’t so much as try to counter his argument when he confronted her about it. She just agreed with him and promised she’d make it right with you.

That’s another thing he can’t seem to stop thinking about. You’ve also been different the last week, only in the opposite way Jiyoon has. You’ve not berated him, but you’ve suddenly become more standoffish and distant. Maybe it’s because he’s not spending every night eating dinner with you or watching movies while he massages your feet, but even before all that you were warmer than you are now.

Which is why he’s trying to corner Taehyung right now before he goes back for hair and makeup. He needs to talk to someone who is relatively unbiased and can maybe help him sort his thoughts properly.

“Taehyung, hey, wait up a second.”

“Yo, JK, what’s up?” Taehyung spins on his heel, catching himself on the doorframe to the dressing room.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

Taehyung pokes his head inside the room, and Jungkook can hear his muffled voice as he talks to the staff. “Yep, it’ll just take a moment. I promise I won’t touch the clip,” he says, turning back towards Jungkook. “You’ve got me for ten minutes.”

Jungkook lets out a breath of relief. He feels like he might explode if he doesn’t get all of this off his chest soon. Taehyung is already wearing a dark pin-stripped suit with a deep v and no shirt underneath. A gold chain and pendant sit perfectly in the open front, complementing the ochre thick-strapped sandals on his feet. There is a small hairpin holding the front of his hair into a suave coif that he, despite saying he wouldn’t, pokes at before following Jungkook to a small seating area across the space.

They’re shooting at an old estate today, styling and posing for various fashion items. Jungkook already went through hair and makeup and his first round of photos. He’s just waiting now for his wardrobe change and his cue to be back with the photographer.

“Do you think it was a bad idea for me to have gone back home?”

Taehyung taps his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Why are you asking?”

“I…I don’t know.” And that’s the truth of it. “Things just have been weird since we had that one big argument. It’s like no matter what I do or tell myself, she makes me feel like I’m walking on eggshells.”

“Or is it that you realize you might have enjoyed staying with a certain manager more than you thought you would?” Taehyung raises a brow, and Jungkook scowls at him.

“Don’t even start on that. Of course I would feel comfortable there. It wasn’t a hostile environment.”

“So you agree that the environment where Jiyoon is concerned is a hostile one.”

“That’s not what I said,” Jungkook groans. “Is it?”

“Sounds like it to me.” Taehyung shrugs. Jungkook values Taehyung for his brutal honesty, so instead of insisting his friend stop, he lets him continue. “Look, you know I love you and just want you to be happy. But, if Jiyoon is telling the truth and that baby is yours, then you have two kids coming into this world, and you really need to get your shit figured out.”

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do, JK. Those babies aren’t going to wait for you to get your shit together. They’re coming in a matter of weeks, whether you’ve got it all figured out or not. I know you and Jiyoon have had a long go at it. You’ve been together for longer than anyone else we know. But, you need to ask yourself if she is the kind of mother you want for your kids. And before you insist she is, I want you to truly think about everything that has transpired. I mean, look at what she said about you and someone who is supposedly her best friend. Someone doesn’t just say that shit because they’re mad. They sure as hell shouldn’t hit anyone because of it, either. There is something going on with Jiyoon—” he taps the side of his head “—up here. And there isn’t a single person who wouldn’t agree that no kid deserves to be brought into a volatile environment. I know that’s not what you had envisioned when you first brought up wanting to have a family.”

“You’re right. But…there’s something else. Something that is maybe making all of this so much worse.”

Jungkook’s knee bounces, nerves wholly consuming him as he prepares to tell Taehyung something he’s only thought about until now. He’s been worried that if he put words to it then it would make it real, but he knows it already is.

Taehyung grins knowingly, the curve of his lips soft and not as teasing as it might usually be. “This should be good. Let’s hear it.”

Your name comes out in a hushed whisper. “I feel like she’s been avoiding me, and it’s driving me crazy. Ever since I went back home, she’s been so distant. I’m worried that she’s upset or something.”

“Well, there is this thing we like to call communication. Have you tried it?”

Jungkook rubs his hands over his face, heedless of messing up his makeup. “I have tried, but it seems like the only thing she wants to talk about is work or baby appointments. It’s like she’s fully in surrogate mode, and that’s all I get.”

“And do you want more?” Taehyung asks, clearly probing to help Jungkook process his thoughts.

“I want her—I want…I don’t know. I care about her. I want her to at least act like my friend,” Jungkook says lamely. Because if there is one thing he’s not sure he’s ready to touch with a twenty-foot pole, it’s the complicated feelings he’s trying to figure out when it comes to you—feelings he’s not sure are real or just a trauma-coping mechanism resulting from his discourse with Jiyoon.

Taehyung claps Jungkook on the shoulder as he stands up. “I need to get in there, but maybe you should ask her to meet up with you. Something strictly not work-related. Maybe get ice cream, or whatever it is pregnant women crave these days. See if you can sus out some more of those feelings I know you got clanging around in there.” His hand moves up from Jungkook’s shoulder to poke the side of his head. “Get all those thoughts out in the open before you go crazy, my friend.”

You agree to meet him for ice cream the next day, provided Jungkook agrees to make an appointment to get new headshots done. With the haircut he got weeks back, it’s needed anyway, so it was easy to accept.

The weather is warming up, and it feels good standing in the sun. It’s been so long since Jungkook allowed himself a moment to breathe and enjoy something so mundane, like the feeling of the sun warming his cheeks.

He’s waiting outside the small walk-up ice cream shop that’s situated in the middle of the park. You agreed to meet him here before an appointment you have with Taehyung. He’s working on some cover spread for a magazine or something like that.

“Sun’s nice, huh?”

Jungkook’s eyes pop open, and he glances back over his shoulder. The sight of you would bring any man to his knees, Jungkook thinks, his own legs giving a little wobble. The floral sundress paired with the sage cardigan Jungkook bought you makes you look like you just stepped off the pages of a romance novel. The wind catches a few stray lengths of your hair and tosses it across your face, drawing Jungkook’s attention to your smile.

“You’re beautiful. Um, I mean, the sun. It’s beautiful. Such a nice day out. Perfect for ice cream.”

You press your fingers against your lips, suppressing a giggle that Jungkook wishes you’d let him hear. “Shall we?” Those same fingers flick in the direction of the ice cream shop.

Jungkook leads the way to the window. “Mint chocolate chip? Cookies and cream?” he asks, trying to think of the different ice cream flavors he’s seen in your freezer.

“Mmm,” you hum, your hand resting over your belly in an absentminded fashion. “I actually think I want a strawberry bungeoppang ice cream.

Chuckling, Jungkook nods. “You read my mind.” He orders two of the fish-shaped ice creams and opens one of the packages before handing it to you.

“I haven’t had one of these in forever,” you say, taking a bite and making a sound of delight.

“Really? That’s sad,” Jungkook teases. “Next time I’m at the grocery store, I’ll grab you a box.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” There is a twinkle of mischief in your eyes as you glance sideways at Jungkook and he wants to capture this moment and never let it go.

So, he does just that, slipping his phone from his pocket and snapping a picture.

The smile slowly disappears from your face. “What?” he asks, looking at you over the top edge of his screen.

“Why are you doing that?”

Jungkook takes another photo, this one with your face more stoic but your eyes no less full of emotion. You don’t exactly look sad, but there is a hint of sadness there, drifting along with the uncertainty in your eyes.

Jungkook looks down at his phone, ice cream forgotten in his other hand. “Because these are important moments that I want to share with my son one day.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Jungkook nods to a park bench. “Of course. Want to sit?”

It feels like forever passes in silence. You sit there and nibble at your ice cream, and Jungkook finally opens his and finishes it in three bites, not wanting to have any sort of distraction. This is supposed to be his time to talk to you, to see what’s going on and figure out why you’ve been acting so weird toward him. He hopes that’s what you want to ask him about.

“What’s going to happen after?”

“After?”

“Once the baby is born. Then what? When I first agreed to do this, the only thing I thought about was the happiness it would bring to you and Jiyoon. But—but the further along this goes, the more shit that happens…the more I can’t stop thinking about how hard it’s going to be to give him up. And I know that’s probably the last thing you want to hear, and please, I swear I’m not going to change my mind about giving you the baby. But, I don’t know that I really thought about the fact that I’m going to be growing a life, spending almost ten months loving this life, to then give them away and pretend like nothing happened.”

“Is that what you think? That as soon as we have the baby, we’re just going to pretend like nothing happened? Is that why you’ve been so withdrawn lately?” Jungkook turns on the bench, drawing one of his knees up so he can look at you fully. “That is not going to happen. This baby, my son, is going to know who you are and what you did for him.”

He can tell you don’t really believe that. “No offense, Jungkook, but I don’t exactly see Jiyoon being okay with that. There’s something going on with her lately, and I don’t even know if our friendship is going to survive this.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “We’ll make it all work out. I know we can. You guys have been friends for practically your entire lives. This is just a bump in the road, right? We’ll figure it out, together…all three of us. And, um, there was actually something I wanted to talk to you about, too. Now that we’re on the subject of the babies and what comes after.”

“What is it?” You put the last bite of your bungeoppang in your mouth and chew it slowly as you wait for him to continue.

Maybe he’s jumping the gun in this, but he thinks it might help you with what you’re feeling right now. And besides, he has talked to Jiyoon about it, and even if she was adamantly against it, he’s certain she’ll come around eventually.

“How would you feel about being the babies’ guardian? Like if something were to ever happen to me or Jiyoon, they would both come to you. If you’d want that, that is. I know two kids would be a lot for someone to take on, but I think if I could choose anyone to raise my kids if I couldn’t, it would be you. You’re already doing such a good job with my son,” Jungkook says with a loving inflection in his tone.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do.”

And no matter what, he’ll make that happen because the smile that’s now gracing your face is worth any amount of arguing with Jiyoon over it. You deserve so much more from this whole fucked up situation.

💔💔💔

“You look like you could use a hug.” Taehyung startles you with an arm across your shoulders, giving you half of said hug. “What’s got you looking so blue, boss?”

You hurried from your impromptu ice cream meetup with Jungkook and went straight to the spread shoot for Taehyung, meaning you haven’t had much time to process everything Jungkook said.

“There aren’t enough minutes left in the day to even begin,” you mutter, vigorously clicking through files on your tablet. “This agreement is a fucking mile long. How do they expect me to read it all and get it back to them in a timely manner?”

“‘Fucking’?” Taehyung says, amused. “Something must be up if you’re dropping words like that. Come on, we have a few minutes, you can at least give me the footnotes. My agreement with that cologne brand can wait.” His long fingers pinch the tablet from your hands and bring it to rest against his chest. “Out with it.”

You twist your fingers in the skirt of your dress as you try to decide where to begin. Taehyung isn’t just your client. You consider him a friend as well. And maybe getting an outside perspective is exactly what you need right now.

“Do you think I’m crazy for doing this?” you ask, moving one of your hands to rest over your belly. “You’re the one that brought it up, to begin with, after all.” You add on that last part, recalling the night of your birthday when Taehyung instigated the entire surrogacy conversation.

Taehyung winces. “I did do that, didn’t I? As far as you being crazy? No, I wouldn’t say crazy. Maybe just far too kind for your own good. If I had known you’d actually go along with it, I might not have brought it up that night.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm,” he makes an agreeable sound. “Do you feel crazy?”

You let out a nervous laugh. “Understatement of the year. I feel like I’m losing it, I have no idea what I’m doing…how I ended up six months pregnant with not a clue what the future holds and feelings I can’t—” You cut yourself off before you say something you’re going to regret.

“Feelings?” Taehyung prods, not letting you get away with that near slip-up.

“It doesn’t matter. Just drop it.”

Taehyung raises a hand. “No, no. You can’t say that and then not explain. I promise you’ll feel better once it’s out in the open.”

“I don’t know about that. Feelings are messy and have never done me any good anyway.” You take your tablet back from Taehyung. “I need to get this offer submitted and you’ll be needed back on set soon.”

“Feelings may be messy, but they are valid. Don’t keep them hidden away in that pretty head of yours. That’ll do nobody any good.”

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth before forcing yourself to let it go, along with the hold on your emotions. “These feelings won’t do anyone any good, Taehyung. Because they’re feelings that can’t mean anything. Not without completely destroying everything.”

There is a moment where Taehyung considers you, his eyes flicking over your figure before landing back on your eyes. All you see there is empathy and understanding.

“This is about Jungkook, isn’t it?”

It’s not worth the effort to argue with Taehyung or convince him otherwise. So, you shrug. “Is it that obvious?”

“As obvious as it is that he shares the same sentiment.”

“Don’t be crazy,” you laugh. “That’s not—”

“That’s not as crazy as you think it is. You’ve both always danced around one another, even back before Jiyoon came into the picture.”

“But, she did, and that’s what matters, Taehyung. Now, forget about this nonsense and keep your mouth shut, okay? Get back to makeup, you smudged your eyeliner.”

As Taehyung walks away, you can’t shake what he said. Jungkook is feeling as conflicted as you are? That’s not possible. He moved back home so he and Jiyoon could work things out. There is no room for you and what’s going on in your head in that equation. You might be on the outs with Jiyoon, but that doesn’t give you the right to let your ‘feelings’ get in the way of Jungkook’s happiness.

Right?

You puff out your cheeks, trying not to voice another complaint as you follow along the dirt path behind Jungkook. He wouldn’t tell you more than to meet him at the park and wear something cute. So, here you are, another day and in another sundress, this one a solid turquoise color with a scalloped neckline.

“How much farther are we going? I’m six months pregnant, and if I walk much farther, you’re going to owe me a foot massage.”

Jungkook laughs, tossing a look of pure carefree delight over his shoulder at you. “I promise it’s not much farther, just over this rise. And if you want a foot massage, all you have to do is ask.”

“You’ll owe me two, then,” you grumble to yourself.

All your complaints dry to dust on your tongue as you finally crest the top of the rise in the path, coming to stand beside Jungkook. Spread out before you is an entire field of wildflowers. All of varying colors, their stalks long and willowy in the light breeze blowing off the ocean beyond.

The deep blue water laps and kisses at the distant shoreline, the roar of the surf soft from this distance. It’s a breathtaking sight, the sun bright and warm overhead, glittering along the glassy surface before scattering into a dance as the waves break on the golden sand. The wildflowers wave in the wind as if to cheer on the waves’ dance of the tides.

“Do you want that foot massage now or later? Jungkook asks, his voice soft with his own awe.

You turn to him, forcing your eyes away from one dazzling sight to focus on another. His hair feathers across his forehead, tossed about by the intermittent ocean breeze. A hint of salt licks along your senses, carrying with it the soft, fragrant notes of the wildflowers.

“What are we doing here?”

His eyes meet yours, and his mouth tilts in a smile. “I thought it might be nice to take some pictures. If you’re okay with that, that is. Dani is planning some elaborate maternity shoot for Jiyoon this weekend, and it’s apparently girls only. She wants to do a second one with me when she’s further along. But, that doesn’t matter right now, I just thought…well, we could do a maternity shoot for you. If you want. No pressure, we can just enjoy the view if you’d rather not.”

That conversation you had with Taehyung a week ago threatens to spill out. Is Jungkook feeling as conflicted as you are right now? If you say yes to the maternity shoot, does that mean you’d rather not just spend the time with him? If you say no to the maternity shoot, does that mean you only want to spend the time with him and, therefore, might be crossing some sort of invisible line in the sand?

Is it possible to do both? You wait for the wave of guilt to hit at having such a thought about Jiyoon’s husband. But, it doesn’t come. If anything, you feel a light giddiness at the fact Jungkook thought of all of this for you.

“We can always take some photos and then enjoy the view?” you offer, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible.

Jungkook swings the bag he was carrying off his shoulder. “I think my view will be good either way,” he counters with a pleasant, teasing tone.

Did he just call you a good view? You try to not let that go to your head. Clearly, he’s just being polite to the woman carrying one of his babies.

“Sure,” you laugh, playing it off. “What do you want me to do?”

He pulls out a large DSLR camera and a tripod which he sets on the ground beside his bag. “Just act natural. Pretend the camera isn’t here.” You catch his smirk behind the camera before you roll your eyes, trying to suppress your own smile. The sound of the shutter clicks, and you try to push everything else out of your mind.

Jungkook moves like a natural with the camera, crouching and turning this way and that in order to capture the best angles as he follows you through the meadow of wildflowers, the ocean at your side in the distance.

“The golden hour is coming.” You glance back at him over your shoulder and see the absolute adoration in his eyes as you know the sun is silhouetting your body, accentuating your bump. The shutter clicks in quick succession.

Jungkook lowers the camera, and the adoration that was there moments ago turns into what you can only describe as uncertainty. “Would you be okay taking some with me?”

“Like, with you in them?”

“Yeah, but only if you’re comfortable with that.”

His consideration really knows no bounds. “Of course, I’m okay with that. He’s your baby, after all.”

“But it’s your body,” he says pointedly. All you can do is nod, watching as he returns to his bag and retrieves the tripod.

Jungkook sets up the stand, screwing the base holder into his camera before snapping it in place atop the tripod. He plays with the angles and height before nodding to himself, satisfied.

“I didn’t realize you knew so much about photography.” It shouldn’t surprise you, but Jungkook spends most of his time in front of a camera and not behind one, so it never clicked before.

He approaches you. The casual white button-down he is wearing open over a light blue tank top is a nice coincidence—a perfect match to your dress. At least, you think it’s a coincidence. It’s not like Jungkook knew you were going to wear this dress today. He plucks one of the wildflowers before tucking it in behind your ear, the feather-soft petals tickling your temple.

“I guess you can add it to my list of secret talents.”

“Just how many hidden talents do you have?” One of your brows rises, and a cheeky smile slants your lips.

His eyes hold yours as he sinks down to his knees in front of you, causing your smile to slip and your teasing cheek to be replaced with mild alarm.

“They wouldn’t be secret if I shared them all with you just yet.” One of his hands comes up to cup the side of your belly. “Is this okay?” he asks, completely throwing you off with the sudden change in subject.

You have to work your tongue inside your mouth to gather enough moisture so you can swallow before answering. “That’s fine.”

“Relax. Act natural, remember?”

Sure. Only there’s nothing natural about what’s happening. No matter where you stand with Jiyoon right now, you know for a guaranteed fact that she would have a problem with this. The way Jungkook looks like he’s worshipping at your feet, the fervent love shining in his eyes as they trace the contours of your belly.

You clear your throat. “Do you have the camera on a timer?”

“It’s set to take a photo every few seconds for the next ten minutes. Tell me if any of this makes you uncomfortable.” 

His other hand presses to the other side of your belly, and his forehead comes to rest right below your navel. “It’s not uncom—oh,” you laugh, the action shaking your body slightly.

Jungkook peers up at you with eyes wider than you’ve ever seen before. “Was that…what I think it was?” The bump comes again, and he snaps his eyes to your belly, his mouth forming a giant smile. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“He’s saying hi to his father,” you murmur softly, heart melting at the pure elation on Jungkook’s face.

“Hi, baby,” Jungkook coos, and the little one moves again, making you mirror Jungkook’s smile. Your heart jerks in your chest when Jungkook presses his lips to your belly, planting a kiss where his forehead once rested.

You know it’s probably wrong, and you should ask him to stop, but you can’t bring yourself to break this spell—not yet, at least. If this is something you can give Jungkook, then you’ll let him have it. It’s not like anyone else is going to see these photos, anyway. This pregnancy isn’t really yours to celebrate, not like this.

But you decide to enjoy it for as long as you can—your own private celebration. Jungkook might not belong to you, and that’s something you accepted a long time ago, but these moments will be yours to hold forever—even if the baby won’t be.

💔💔💔

Jungkook

The weeks following moving back in have Jungkook questioning so much about his life. Maybe it’s just the raw vulnerability of what happened between him and Jiyoon, but Jungkook feels like he’s been living on the edge of sanity. Even if it was a lie, it still planted a small seed of doubt in his mind. One that he whole-heartedly feels guilty for and wishes would go the fuck away.

He blames it for the way he eyes Jiyoon’s phone any time it chimes or the way he’s tempted to pick it up when she’s in the shower. It’s not that he wants to go through it, not really…only, actually, he does. He wants to give himself assurances, confirm that there is nothing on there that she’s hiding.

Jungkook knows Jiyoon has many clients who constantly need her attention. It’s no different than you; he knows that. You seem to always be getting a stream of messages, emails, or phone calls whenever he’s around you. That’s just part of the job. Yet…yet, Jungkook can’t seem to shake the desire to just check, to be certain.

It doesn’t help that he’s caught Jiyoon on the phone in the middle of the night. He never let her know he saw her or heard her girlish giggles. But each instance has only added to his mounting paranoia, to the point that he does what he’s promised himself he’d never do.

He looks through her phone.

And the guilt that consumes him tenfold when he finds nothing incriminating at all has him knocking on the door across the hall in an effort not to lose his mind completely.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” Jimin answers the door in a pair of low-slung silk pants and no shirt. His hair is mussed, but if the equally shirtless man standing behind him is any indicator, it’s not from sleep.

“Is Taehyung here?”

Jimin gestures for Jungkook to come in. “Yeah, he’s in his studio. This is my friend, Hoseok. Hoseok, this is Jungkook. He’s one of the OG models from Kim Exclusives.”

“How’s it going?” Hoseok says, a smirk tugging at his lips as Jimin palms his hip.

Jungkook just nods, skirting around them and heading down the hall to Taehyung's studio. It’s one of the spare rooms turned into an art space where Taehyung likes to lose himself in his spare time.

After a few moments, his knock on the door is answered. Taehyung is wearing a linen smock, the front of which is splattered with paint of varying degrees of drying.

“Jungkook.” Taehyung’s brow pinches. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m about to go fucking crazy is what I’m doing here.”

Giving him a once over, Taehyung lets Jungkook into the room and flicks his hand at an empty stool. “I should start charging you by the hour. What’s the going rate of therapists these days?”

“I’ll buy you one of those fancy bottles of soju that you like so much,” Jungkook sighs, dropping onto the hard surface of the stool.

“Deal. Now, out with it, before you ruin my groove here.”

Taehyung sprawls out on a worn-out leather chaise, the edges cracked and dappled in paint. His eyes remain on Jungkook. Despite looking like he could care less, Jungkook knows Taehyung is being attentive, and a better friend than he probably deserves.

“I think something is going on with Jiyoon.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure if it’s just my paranoia because of what she said all those weeks ago, or if I’m just seeing things where I want to see them and turning innocent shit into malicious things…I feel like I’m going insane.”

“Continue,” Taehyung encourages, making a ‘come on’ motion with his hand.

Jungkook takes a slow breath, using the moment to collect his thoughts. “I’ve found Jiyoon on the phone at weird hours, in the middle of the night. I would think she’s just talking to a client, and maybe she is, but the way she giggles and talks…it just sounds like, fuck, like the way she used to talk to me. And I know that sounds insane, and I’m probably making something out of nothing, but it’s just so weird. Maybe I never noticed it before, but it’s happening all the time.”

“Hmm.” Taehyung makes a thoughtful sound before gesturing for Jungkook to keep going.

“Her phone is constantly going off, and I keep seeing the same name pop up: Dohyun Kim. I know he’s an actor, and he’s contracted under Kim Exclusives, but I don’t know much else. I’m not really part of the actor's circle. And he could be her client. In fact, I’m pretty sure he is. I just…why is she on the phone with him at 2 AM giggling like she has a crush?”

“Is that all that’s bothering you?” Taehyung asks in a way that tells Jungkook he wants to hear everything before giving his opinion or any advice.

Jungkook rubs the heels of his palms over his eyes before giving Taehyung a tired look. “No,” he says so softly that Taehyung has to lean forward to hear him. “I’ve been experiencing these feelings…and it makes me feel like such a hypocrite. I’m such a fucking asshole, worried that Jiyoon is lying to me when I might as well be lying to her.”

“About?” Taehyung prompts.

“I can’t stop thinking about her,” Jungkook confesses, his voice even softer than before.

“A certain manager who is carrying your baby?”

“Yeah. Dammit, Taehyung. What am I doing? I’m married, for fucks sake!”

Taehyung leans back and crosses an ankle over his knee. “You realize you’re just human, right? You just spent several days thinking the woman you’ve been in love with and shared a life with for over six years had betrayed you. Even if it was a lie, that shit still hurts and is going to leave a lasting mark, man. You can’t be expected to simply shrug it off and continue like life is normal. Your life is anything but normal. For one, your wife, who supposedly has been unable to have kids for years, suddenly pops up pregnant just weeks after you impregnate her best friend. I don’t know about you, Jungkook, and I’m no genius with numbers, but the math isn’t mathing. And for two, it doesn’t surprise me if you’re feeling a bit more connected to the one woman who hasn’t lied to you about a baby.”

“Jiyoon didn’t lie, though—”

Taehyung cuts off Jungkook’s rebuttal. “She did lie. At least, if the baby is yours, then what she said about it not being was a lie, right?”

Jungkook presses his lips into a thin line because he can’t argue with that. Technically it was a lie, if…

“What do you mean ‘if the baby is mine’?”

Leaning forward, Taehyung drops his foot back to the floor and rests his elbows on his knees. “I’m going to say this in the nicest way I possibly can. Married women don’t giggle on the phone with a client at 2 AM. If she’s on the phone with her mom, sure. Her sister? Absolutely. Dani? I’d believe it. But, if you’re telling me she’s on the phone giggling with Dohyun Kim, a client, at 2 AM…I’d say it sounds like you have a problem.”

Cold chills pop up along Jungkook’s arms and down the back of his neck. “Okay,” he says slowly, trying to let his brain process everything Taehyung just said.

“And then there is the issue with your boss,” Taehyung continues as if he didn’t just drop a bomb of realization on Jungkook. “You’re clearly into her, and don’t give me that look. You’re acting the same way you did when you first got signed on with Kim Exclusives. In case you’ve forgotten, you were so smitten with your new manager that you made the rookie mistake of talking to her boss about your crush and nearly got released from your contract. It was only because Namjoon added Jiyoon to your management profile that you were allowed to stay on with them. Jiyoon knew you had a thing for her friend, so she did her best to weasel her way into your heart. Perhaps she wasn’t as successful as she might have thought, it seems.” Taehyung’s eyes flick over Jungkook in silent appraisal. “Yeah, not all that successful at all. Looks like you got a lot to think about, my friend.”

Sighing, Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “You know, I came over here to get your help, not have you complicate it even more.”

“It doesn’t seem all that complicated if you ask me. In fact, it all seems pretty clear to me…you just have to want to see it.”

That’s it, though, isn’t it? Jungkook is afraid he already can see it…the light you provide reveals a lot about the darkness he’s been blinded by. He can’t help but think back to the night he held your hand as you lay there on your bathroom floor, having just done one of the most selfless things any one person could do for another.

Some might say that’s a different kind of love, a different kind of affection…but what if it isn’t? What if it was just pulling back the curtain on something that was always meant to be?

💔💔💔

A shadow falls across your desk, causing you to pause in responding to the text message you just received from Jungkook confirming that he’ll be able to attend your thirty-week appointment that’s coming up.

You look up, meeting the cold gaze of your once best friend. Things have been cordial between you and Jiyoon, but neither of you has exactly made much of an effort to actually patch things up. If it wasn’t for Jungkook—if it wasn’t for the baby in your belly that’s growing for her—you’d probably have washed yourself of her friendship completely.

The conversation you had with Jungkook last night still hangs over you like a raincloud. You talked about the legal papers that you’ve yet to sign. The ones that would give all legal rights over to Jungkook and Jiyoon. He wants you to wait to sign them only after the baby is born, just in case. Just in case of what, he didn’t elaborate on. But, it’s becoming clearer to you that despite Jungkook attempting to mend their relationship, not everything is as pretty as it may seem on the outside when it comes to them.

“Is there something I can do for you?” you ask, setting your phone down on your desk. Jiyoon’s eyes follow the device, narrowing slightly before you click the power button to turn off the display. Maybe it was a mistake to make your phone background one of the few maternity photos Jungkook sent you as a taste of what was to come, the rest waiting for him to finish editing them.

You expect her to comment on the photo, but instead, she asks, “Are you really having a baby shower?”

“What are you talking about?”

“What’s this?” she asks, handing you a small folded card.

You take it. It’s white on the back and blue on the front with a small carriage with a bear inside of it. At the top, in silver lettering, it says ‘Join Us’. The inside boasts a small message with a time and date.

While you don’t want to throw Jungkook under the bus on this one, it was technically his idea. You tell Jiyoon as much. “Jungkook thought it would be a good idea. Just some clients and close friends—”

“But, what do you need a baby shower for? It’s not even your baby.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “You act like I’m not aware of that. You realize that anything I get is going to be for the baby, regardless of where he ends up living. But, this isn’t even really a baby shower—” you shake the folded invitation “—it’s just a pregnancy shower. As in, an opportunity for people to maybe gift me the things I’m going to need during recovery after I have him.”

Anger twists her lips, and her nostrils flare as she stares down at you. “You didn’t think to maybe include me in this?”

Shoving the invitation back at her, you throw your hands up. “I’m not the one who planned it. Take that up with your husband, Jiyoon. This was all his idea. So, if you want to squawk and fume at someone, it’s not me. Now, if you please, I have some work to do.”

“Sure, okay. Blame Jungkook for this. That’s so like you, putting the blame off on someone else.”

Jiyoon takes a startled step backward as you shoot up from your seat. “You need to back off and leave me alone.”

Not wanting to face this any longer, for the good of your own mental health, you skirt around her and head to the breakroom. You occupy your hands by mixing a flavor packet into a bottle of water you grab from the fridge.

You should have known better, though, that you could escape this without actually leaving the entire building because you feel her presence behind you before her words slice right into your soul.

“I’ll back off when you stop trying to make everything about you! You don’t need a party for people to bring you things. You’re just using my baby to fill the void in your life. I knew it from the day you agreed to this nonsense with Jungkook. You’re so desperate for something that you were willing to get fucking pregnant, by my husband…do you realize how stupid that is? You’re a fucking joke, and I can’t wait for you to have that baby so I can make sure he’s not raised by some pathetic little girl.”

The ringing in your ears intensifies as seconds pass, stretching the silence in the breakroom. Dani’s tittering laugh breaks the dam holding back your tears as she saunters into the room.

“Aw, Jiyoon, you made her cry.” Dani’s words follow you out the door and to the elevator.

You barely register passing by Taehyung as you enter the elevator. His eyes meet yours, and you see his lips moving, but the door closes before your brain can comprehend what he may have said.

This is it, the moment you’ve been trying to avoid for so long—the moment you shatter into oblivion.

💔💔💔

Jungkook

Taehyung said it was an emergency, and that Jungkook needed to meet with him immediately when he called a few minutes ago. Jimin let Jungkook into their condo, and now he’s waiting for Taehyung in his studio. There wasn’t much Taehyung would say over the phone, but by the tone of his voice, Jungkook knows it’s bad.

Jungkook is tempted to text you again, just to check in to see how you’re doing and if you’re free after work, even though he texted you only an hour or so ago. He finished editing the maternity photos this morning, and he’s excited to show them to you. But he’s waiting for the right time to do that. Jiyoon texted him not long ago to let him know that she’ll be home for dinner, but maybe if he plays his cards right, he can meet with you before that.

Just as he pulls out his phone to send you the text, the studio door swings open, and a wild-eyed Taehyung storms in, chest huffing.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Jungkook asks, standing up from the stool he was sitting on.

“Nope, sit back down. You need to be seated for this. Fucking hell, this is a mess.” Taehyung paces in front of Jungkook, periodically gripping fistfuls of his hair, making the thick chestnut waves go wild. “I need a drink,” Taehyung mutters under his breath before making a beeline for the small bottle of bourbon he keeps tucked behind some of his paint supplies in a cabinet.

“Tae, you’re starting to scare me. What’s wrong?”

Taehyung takes a deep swill straight from the bottle before shoving it at Jungkook. “You’ll want some, too.”

Jungkook slowly takes the bottle, but instead of drinking, he sets it off to the side. “Seriously, Taehyung. What’s going on?”

Throwing his hands up, Taehyung rounds on Jungkook. “It’s your goddamn wife, JK.”

“My wife? What are you talking about?”

“Jungkook. Okay—” Taehyung rubs a hand over his mouth and drops onto the stool beside the one Jungkook is sitting on. “Look. I’m going to tell you something—I seem to be doing that a lot lately—and your first instinct is going to be to not believe me—I know that. But I really need you to listen and know that I wouldn’t be telling you this if I hadn’t heard it directly from her mouth.”

“Umm…okay.”

“Promise me that you’ll listen.”

The look of pure devastation on Taehyung’s face has Jungkook nodding. “Okay, I promise to listen.”

In a whisper so soft Jungkook isn’t sure he hears him correctly, Taehyung says, “The baby…it isn’t yours. She wasn’t lying about that, apparently.”

“You can’t be serious,” Jungkook balks, feeling instantly incensed. Though, whether his anger is at Taehyung or not, he’s not sure.

“You promised you would listen. Now, listen to me. I went by the office today after lunch, and as I was leaving, I could tell something had happened.” He sighs your name, “I passed her as I was getting off the elevator and it was clear she was upset over something. I overheard that bitch Dani laughing in the breakroom, so I went in that direction, knowing she probably had something to do with it. But…I didn’t expect—what I didn’t expect was that I’d catch the tail end of a whispered conversation between Dani and Jiyoon. Their heads were pressed together, but Dani’s big mouth is loud even when she’s whispering. She was asking Jiyoon if she had told that fucker Dohyun that the baby was his or not. From what I could piece together from the rest of what I heard, Jiyoon’s baby is his, but he doesn’t want anything to do with it because he’s married with two kids of his own already! I knew you were on to something with your suspicions, but fuck.”

Jungkook knows he should react a certain way right now. Yet, he can’t seem to muster up the anger and indignation that should be swallowing him whole. If anything…if anything, what he feels is something akin to relief. He can’t help but wonder if that makes him a bad person.

If Taehyung had told him this months ago, Jungkook would have probably punched his best friend in the face and called him every name in the book. But now—he almost feels numb when he considers the fact that Jiyoon was telling the truth a few weeks ago. Maybe it’s because he used up all of his anger and resentment then that there is none left now, when it seems to matter the most.

It doesn’t help that Jungkook’s felt like he was on the outside looking in ever since he moved back home. Jiyoon might have been overly enthusiastic, but she was still firmly on the other side of the invisible line that Jungkook only realizes now that he drew for himself.

“I need to go,” Jungkook says quietly.

“Hey.” Taehyung grabs Jungkook’s arm as he slips off his stool. “You call me if you need me, okay?”

“Thanks.”

Jungkook moves swiftly, almost blindly. He goes across the hall, throws some clothes in a bag, and collects his toothbrush from the bathroom before he’s on the move again.

“Hello?” At the first sound of your scratchy voice, Jungkook’s mind instantly switches gears. His problems are immediately inconsequential to whatever is ailing you.

“Where are you right now?”

You sniffle and clear your throat before answering. “I went home early. Why? Is everything okay?” You’ve been crying. Clearly, things are not okay, and Jungkook won’t be able to deal with his issues until he takes care of you first.

“No, everything is not okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Jungkook is out of breath by the time he’s knocking on your door, having sprinted from his car straight up the stairs of your building because the elevator was taking too long.

The door swings open before Jungkook can bring his knuckles forward to knock a second time. You don’t protest when he wraps his arms around you and ushers you back so he can close the door.

“You said everything wasn’t okay.” Your voice is muffled by your face pressed against his chest. “What’s going on?”

“That’s not important right now. Tell me what’s got you so upset,” Jungkook urges, releasing you just enough that you can look up and meet his worried gaze.

You shake your head, more tears finding their way onto your cheeks. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jungkook moves you over to the couch and helps you sit down, kneeling at your feet with your hands clasped in his. “Please, tell me.”

He hates the way your shoulders tremble, and every tear that tracks down your cheeks is another blow to his chest. He’s never seen you this upset before, so he knows it’s something bad…something that Jiyoon caused if what Taehyung said was any indicator. But he needs you to tell him; needs you to open up and say it.

“I don’t want to upset you,” you whisper, the words breaking Jungkook’s heart because, of course, you would try to put his feelings before your own wellbeing. You’re far too good for him, for any of them, really.

He squeezes your hands. “I promise, you can say whatever it is you need to say, and it’ll be okay.”

Jungkook listens to you, his anger and horror at such vile things growing with every confession you release. Once you finish explaining what happened at the office today, you surprise him by including other incidents that he wasn’t aware of, like that one lunch you’ve tried so hard to forget.

“I don’t know why I didn’t reach out to you then, see if you were actually going along with the whole ‘there are options’ thing. I mean, an abortion? Why the fuck would I abort this baby just because Jiyoon so happened to get pregnant. It was something I had completely forgotten about, or maybe just intentionally blocked out, until today. Fucking hell, Jungkook, she practically told me to get rid of it because it wasn’t needed since she’s pregnant…who does that? I’m sorry. I know she’s your wife, and you love her…but I can’t do this. I can’t, in good faith, have this baby and let her take him.” You begin to sob in earnest, your words turning into barely coherent pleas and apologies.

If his heart wasn’t broken before, it’s completely fissured through now. “Hey, it’s okay, “ he tries to soothe you, sliding onto the couch beside you and gathering you into his arms.

Jungkook wants to scream, rant, and rave at the world for how cruel and unfair life can be sometimes. But, mostly, he feels a deep sense of guilt in having been the one to start this whole thing. If it wasn’t for him, you’d not be pregnant right now. If it wasn’t for him, Jiyoon might not be the raging bitch she has seemingly become. Maybe…just maybe—

“Stop,” you whisper. “Stop blaming yourself, I can hear the guilt in your head. None of this is your fault, Jungkook.”

He knows that’s not true, but also that there is no sense in trying to explain how much it is his fault. The best he can do right now is try to make it hurt less. “I’ll be right back,” he tells you, soothing a hand over your hair and down your back. “Your hands are freezing, I’m going to grab a blanket.”

You nod against his shoulder and relax your arms as he pulls away. The sobs have mostly subsided, but Jungkook can tell you’re far from being okay. Not wanting to waste another moment, he disappears down the hall and into your room to retrieve some comfort items and the fuzzy blanket you keep folded over the end of your bed.

When he turns, items in hand, to go back to you, he stops just short of the doorway. The sound of a familiar voice drifts to him from down the hall. Dread pours down his spine and prickles over his skin in a thin sheen of sweat.

Jiyoon is here.

💔💔💔

“Where is he? I know he’s here!”

It’s like watching a sitcom. The timing’s far too impeccable, and all that’s missing is the background laugh track. As soon as Jungkook disappears into your room, there’s a knock on the front door. Jiyoon’s the last person you expect to be standing there. Yet, here she is, her hands firmly planted on her hips and her enraged eyes slicing you from head to toe.

“It might help if you explained who you are looking for.” You know who she means, but you can’t help being purposely obtuse out of sheer spite.

She raises her hand and jabs her forefinger in your face. “Don’t play stupid with me. You know who! Jungkook. My husband.”

You take a slow breath, your eyes barely cutting to the side and beyond Jiyoon. Jungkook is peeking through your doorway, and you know he’s about to make himself known to her. His eyes meet yours, and you shake your head subtly, hoping he understands.

“If he is your husband, then why would he be here at my home?”

Jiyoon sneers. “You think you’re so goddamn cute, don’t you? I know what the two of you have been up to. I found the proof of your little love affair on his laptop, so don’t even try me. Tell me where he is, and I won’t have to make you cry again.”

You have absolutely no idea what kind of proof Jiyoon thinks she has found, but seemingly, there is something lost in translation somewhere. “Proof? What the hell are you talking about? I’ve done nothing with your husband that you, yourself, didn’t approve of.”

“That’s hilarious,” Jiyoon laughs mockingly. “Because I never wanted any of this to happen! I never wanted fucking kids to begin with! I only went along with it because it was what Jungkook wanted, and I knew he’d leave me if I told him the truth!” Her voice comes out loud and shrill, the words taking you by surprise. “But, obviously, he’s not the one I have to worry about, is he? I should have known from the moment you agreed to this nonsense that you were trying to worm your way into his life. How dare you try to ruin my marriage!”

“You…what? You never wanted kids? Jungkook wouldn’t leave you over that! He loves you, even when you’re being a complete and utter crazy person! You think I’m trying to break up your marriage? What the hell?”

She throws her hands up. “And you call yourself my best friend! What a fucking joke. No, I never wanted kids! Why would I want to give up my perfect body and my perfect life to raise some snot-nosed, grubby-handed, little brats?! I only ever went along with it because that’s what Jungkook wanted, what he begged for like a sad little puppy! Though I guess he didn’t have to beg you much, did he? You willingly went to him like a bitch in heat.”

“Jiyoon, what the hell are you even talking about?!”

She continues on as if you haven’t spoken, “I bet you feel so high and mighty, having given him exactly what he wants. That was the start of your whole plan, right? How you’ve plotted to get him to leave me? I should have just saved you the trouble and told him myself. Though, maybe he’s just too dense to realize it, because, I mean, come on. Years of supposed infertility?” she laughs again, completely humorless. “Am I just surrounded by idiots?”

There isn’t enough moisture in your mouth to speak comfortably, but you force the words out anyway, “But, you’re pregnant now. How can you say that—”

“Accidents happen! If I had known I’d get so shit-faced the weekend I found out that you were pregnant that I’d forget to take my pills on time, I’d not have let Dohyun touch me!”

You rock back on your heels, completely thrown off by her blatant admission. “Dohyun? What the hell did you do, Jiyoon? What the hell are you talking about?”

The person you once considered your closest friend throws her head back and laughs, the sound echoing from the ceiling. It’s not a humorless laugh like before, it’s full of incredulity and surprise.

“I did what any miserable woman does when their husband spends more time dreaming about babies than he does about his own wife. I found my own happiness!”

“I—I don’t understand…you love Jungkook!”

Jiyoon titters, clicking her tongue at you. “You’re so naive. Love is not real. Whatever fucked up little fantasy you have in your head about Jungkook, it’s not real. He doesn’t love you, just the same as he doesn’t love me. How I ever was friends with you, I’ll never understand. You’re so pathetic. Your delusions about Jungkook come from the fact he put a baby in you on the goddamn floor of your bathroom! I mean, come on, where is your self-respect?! If you think just because you’re birthing a child for him that it means something more, then you’re far dumber than I’ve ever given you credit for. Look at you, just look at you! Never in a million years would someone like Jungkook want someone like you if there wasn’t some sort of transaction involved! He’s mine and he’s so far gone for this baby—” she gestures to her stomach “—that he’ll never leave me no matter what. And if you think to keep that baby from him—” her hand flicks to your stomach “—you and I both know he’ll hate you forever.”

“You’re wrong, Jiyoon.” Whether Jungkook has feelings for you or not, you know nothing has happened between the two of you. And you sure as hell know that Jungkook doesn’t just care about the baby…at least, you don’t think it’s just that. “You’re not going to get away with this. Jungkook will see through your lies!”

You have to take several steps back as Jiyoon crowds into your space. “If you even think to say anything to him or to anyone else, for that matter, I will ruin you. You know I have friends in high places, far more than you do. I will make you regret every decision you’ve ever made. Now, I’m going to leave here, and if you see my husband, be a good girl and tell him to come home. Got it?”

“Why don’t you tell me yourself?”

Jungkook’s voice startles both of you, and you watch as the color drains from Jiyoon’s face. Her pouty lips open in horror. She turns slowly away from you to face Jungkook, who is now standing on the other side of the living room, his arms crossed and his eyes laser-focused on her.

“W-what are you doing here?” she asks, her body language morphing from surprise to defensive right before your eyes. “I knew he was here! You lying bitch, how dare you?!”

Before she can round on you and change the narrative once more, Jungkook quickly moves into the room and steps in front of you. “I think you need to leave,” he tells her. “Now, before you say anything else to dig your hole even deeper.”

“I don’t know what you think you heard—”

“I heard enough, Jiyoon. We both did. Leave while you have some dignity still intact, lest you forget those friends that you have in high places are really mine.”

Jiyoon at least has the grace to allow her tears to fall, showing the first sign of a genuine emotion other than rage since she stepped foot into your apartment.

“If you’d just let me expla—”

“Jiyoon,” you cut her off this time. “Leave before I call the police. Please.”

Her eyes flick between you and Jungkook. Without another word, she turns and leaves. Jiyoon might have hurt you, but you still feel the sting of your friendship crumbling. She wasn’t always good to you, may have even been downright terrible, but she was still someone you cared about for a very long time.

And you know if you’re feeling like this, Jungkook must be having it even worse. All those things she said, the lies…the deceit…dear god, everything.

“Jungkook,” you hesitate. “Are you okay?”

He blinks a few times and turns back to look at you. There are unshed tears in his eyes that give you a glimpse into what he might be feeling, but other than that, his face is completely unreadable.

“I’m not the one I’m worried about,” he tells you. “I need to know if you’re okay. Everything she said about you…about me, you have to know that none of it is true.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t somewhat believe her. Ever since she said what she did at the office, about you being so desperate to fill the void in your life that you agreed to carry a baby—your first and maybe only baby—for someone else. Someone that you care about, sure, but not for yourself…you had absolutely no thought or concern for yourself. It was all about making Jiyoon and Jungkook happy. And in that moment, you realized she was right about at least one thing; you were desperate enough to give away something so sacred for…the chance at feeling something? Pathetic.

“I…I don’t know.”

Jungkook’s arms catch you around the waist, and you realize your knees have given out. “Whoa, let’s get you on the couch.” He takes up the same position he had earlier, kneeling at your feet after you’ve sat. The touch of his skin against yours is soothing, and comforting, as he cups your face and lets his eyes roam over your features. “Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

The last thing you want to do right now is tell Jungkook your thoughts, but you find yourself opening up to him, letting your torrential feelings bubble out in what you’re not sure are even coherent words.

“I agreed to have this baby without thinking of myself. This is my first baby…and I was completely okay with giving it away. What kind of person does that make me? Desperate? Pathetic? Was I really just so starved for a connection that I agreed to do that…? Am I a homewrecker? Did I let your kindness color my perception and create this elaborate delusion that maybe there was something more between us? Or is it just the stupid crush I’ve had on you for years now that is making me think maybe, in the end, things would have been okay and that somehow by choosing my baby, you’d be choosing me, too? No. No, that can’t be it. You don’t feel that way about me. You’re married! Or…at least, you were, or well, still are…to my best—ex-best—friend. And, of course, the only way I could get a guy to notice me was to be laid out on my bathroom floor, willing to have a baby—”

“I’m going to stop you there,” Jungkook says, lightly pressing a finger against your lips. “I’m not saying that what you’re feeling isn’t valid, because you have every right to feel however you feel about things. But, I need to set some things straight, and maybe that will help. Okay?”

He’s talking to you slowly, clearly, and with so much openness in his eyes now that you just want to dive right into them and float away into their espresso-colored abyss.

“Okay.” You swallow hard against the choking feeling in your throat, knowing you need to hear him out before you spiral further.

Jungkook settles on his heels, absently letting his hands, now engulfing yours, gently press against the underside of your belly.

“You,” he pauses to take a deep breath. “You are the most selfless and beautiful person I’ve ever met. I am so sorry that I did not make that clear in the beginning. Even before all of this started, that’s what I thought, and how I felt, and everything in the last seven months has just made me see and feel that even more. I know things are confusing right now, and there is a lot we need to talk about, but I need to make it clear to you…make you understand that you are far more than just this precious baby to me.” Jungkook leans forward and presses a light kiss to your stomach, keeping his eyes on yours. “You mean more to me than that, I just…I was scared to admit that, and we both know things have been crazy lately. I’ll forever be sorry for not saying all that sooner.”

“But…what? I’m confused. Are you thinking straight right now? I mean, that baby…Jungkook, don’t worry about me. I can’t imagine what’s going through your head right now. You can talk to me. Or I can call Taehyung?”

Jungkook chuckles, the sound low and almost sad. “This is exactly what I mean. You’re trying to put me first, worrying about me. Maybe I should be broken up about all of this, but…if I’m being honest, I knew deep down that something was off. Jiyoon has been acting weird, and then Taehyung overheard her and Dani today in the breakroom at the office. It all but confirmed it. But then she had to go and be very…Jiyoon and come over here to point fingers and lay blame, all so she could justify her own guilt over what she’s been doing to me—to us.”

“Oh, Jungkook.” The memory of passing Taehyung on the elevator comes back to you, and the pieces start to fit together. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry for. Please don’t feel bad for me. I don’t want to be a victim in this, I don’t want either of us to be. Things might not be perfect, but…I-I don’t regret any of this. I care about you, and if it wasn’t for all of this…” Jungkook trails off, but you think you know what he’s trying to say.

Regardless of how fucked up things are right now, if the world as you know it wasn’t shattered into a million pieces, you might not be able to see the possibilities laid out before you. The possibilities that are right in front of you.

You lean forward and hesitate, poised with your lips a breath's width from Jungkook’s. All you need is a moment to feel that it’s real, that not everything is broken beyond repair. Whether he closes the distance or you do, you’re not sure. But, the tender press of his lips against yours is all the confirmation you need.

In fairytales, a moment like this would be punctuated with fireworks or banding trumpets and beating drums. But, for you, it’s the rapid thumping of your heart and the frisson of butterflies that take flight low in your belly that let you know this is real; that this isn’t broken.

“No matter what happens, we’re in this together,” Jungkook breathes, his words caressing your lips before he moves his mouth against yours again. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, not unless you tell me to.”

“Are you sure you want me to be there?” you ask for maybe the third time since Jungkook helped you into his car.

His eyes flick from the road to yours before focusing back. “Yes. I want you there, more than anyone else. Today is a big day, what if I need an emotional support hug or something?”

He’s teasing you, you can tell. But it still makes you smile and swoon a little. It’s been a couple of weeks since what could easily be described as one of the darkest days of your life transpired. And things are finally starting to feel normal again; or as normal as it can be to have your supposed best friend nearly rip your world apart and come out on the other side with her husband by your side instead of hers.

Another few weeks have managed to fly by before you know it. And in that time, you’ve done a lot of soul-searching and talking—specifically, talking to Jungkook. There has been so much the two of you needed to talk about, both relating to Jiyoon and not. Because, somehow, despite—or maybe in spite of—all the things that have gone wrong, you and Jungkook have found yourselves drawn together closer than ever.

Things have been just a smidge more than casual between you and Jungkook. It’s like a great weight has been lifted from your shoulders and you are able to breathe deeply for the first time in a long time. Jungkook is with you and seems to be doing much better as well, the perpetual tension around him dissipating more with each passing day.

You feel like maybe you’re both toeing the same blurred line of figuring out exactly what you are to each other. The feelings are there, there’s no doubting that. It’s just working through it all to ensure you’re both making conscious decisions instead of rash ones that may be influenced by the emotion of it all.

“An emotional support hug or a freedom kiss?”

Jungkook hums thoughtfully, like he’s truly considering your question. You’ve only shared a few more kisses since the one that took place on your couch that night. But Jungkook is not afraid to shower you with affection in other ways, ways that you’re both comfortable with right now. Like how his fingers thread through your hair while you use his tummy as a pillow as you watch a movie on the couch. Or the way he helps you put on your shoes whenever you go out because he knows bending over too far can sometimes make you dizzy.

Sometimes you find yourself wanting to ask him for more, but unsure if he’ll be as open and receptive. You both agreed to not push anything and to allow it to all naturally occur, and develop on its own in a healthy way. You’re fairly certain that you both don’t want to accidentally ruin this before it has a chance to even begin.

“How much would it take for me to get both the hug and the kiss?”

It feels good to laugh, even as Jungkook pulls into the parking lot of his lawyer’s office and the mood grows more somber. There is a reason he’s here, and seemingly a reason you’re here, too.

“You can have both,” you concede with a soft smile. Because, deep down, you know he’ll probably need it; legal separation and then divorce is a nasty process, after all.

Hours and several signatures later, Jungkook looks lighter. There is a bit more bounce in his step as he takes your hand and walks you back outside. The sun is shining and you wouldn’t be surprised to see a rainbow pop up somewhere after the raincloud that just disappeared from over him.

“Well, I’m officially single now. Want to be my girlfriend?”

You can hear the teasing tone in his voice, which makes the surprised look on his face even better when you say, “Of course I would.” 

“Wait. Really? You’re being serious?”

“As long as you are.”

Jungkook laughs, the sound like music to your ears after so much turmoil has passed. “You know what? I think I am. I want this,” he says, giving your hand in his a light squeeze. “I’ve wanted you for a while now.”

That light fluttering feeling in your belly that you’ve come to associate with Jungkook swoops in and you swear you can hear those fairytale romance fireworks going off somewhere in the distance as you press up onto your toes and cover his lips with yours. 

“I’ve wanted you, too.”

Baby time is swiftly approaching, and with Namjoon’s blessing, you’re taking some time off of work. Or rather, time away from the office. You’ve been working at home, something that was agreed might be best until you come back from maternity leave.

On your last day in the office, it was mentioned by Hyeonwoo that he saw Jiyoon leaving Namjoon’s office, her eyes red and cheeks blotchy. Later, you were told in a private meeting that Jiyoon has been given the same extension of time out of the office, except instead of coming back after maternity leave, she is going to need to find a new place of employment. All things considered, Namjoon hated to have to let her go, but with everything that went down, he had no choice in the end.

You haven’t seen nor spoken with Jiyoon since that day in your apartment. Jungkook has, but only a few times, to take care of legal things. The divorce should be finalized in a few months after Jiyoon’s baby is born. Even though she claims the baby is not his, Jungkook told you that he knows it’s possible. If she could have gotten pregnant by Dohyun, then there might be even the smallest possibility that she could have gotten pregnant by Jungkook instead.

So, with that, he’s requested a paternity test after the baby is born and has also extended some grace to Jiyoon. He’s allowing her to live in the condo until she has the baby, time she’s using to find a new place. Because once her baby is born, the condo will be sold. Which is why you have a stack of emails with more real estate listings waiting for you to have a moment to look through them.

Jungkook presented you with the idea of moving in together about a week ago. He’s already been on a few tours—with you on video chat so you can see, too—and you both know exactly what you want in a home—the place where your son will grow up.

“Hey!” Jungkook calls from the living room. “I’m back.”

You close your laptop and set it off on the bedside table before easing forward on the pillows to sit up straighter. Laying back in bed with your feet propped up tends to help with the swelling, so you’ve been spending some time lounging in bed when you can.

“In here,” you say.

You hear Jungkook’s feet pattering down the hall for a second before his head pops through the doorway, followed by his large frame. “How’s your day been? Just been relaxing?” He comes to sit on the other side of the bed, the side he’s been sleeping on for the last two weeks.

“As much as I can relax,” you sigh, rubbing a hand over your belly. “He’s finally settled down.”

You’re not sure you’ll ever get over the way Jungkook’s face lights up when his eyes sweep over where his son is steadily growing in your body.

“I want to take you to dinner,” Jungkook announces, sliding closer to you.

One of your eyebrows quirks up because clearly he’s excited about something but is trying to keep it to himself by the vibrating energy you can feel emanating from him. “What’s the occasion?”

“Occasion? Do I need an occasion to want to take you out?” His tone speaks volumes.

You give him a playful poke in the ribs, which earns you a lopsided grin, his nose scrunching in that adorable way. “You can take me to dinner on one condition.”

“Anything! Name it.” Jungkook bounces up onto his knees, hands planted on the bed beside you.

With a finger under his chin, you turn his face toward the end of the bed, where your toes are wiggling in invitation. “Please, if you expect me to get out of this bed.”

“Oh-ho, you drive a hard bargain!” he teases. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”

Jungkook crawls down the bed and takes up a position so your feet rest on the tops of his thighs. The instant his thumbs roll across the ball of your left foot, you let out a low groan.

“That feels so good. Now, if only you could do the same to my lower back.” You let out another breathy sound, eyes fluttering shut as Jungkook slowly eases away the ache.

“Your lower back bothering you?”

You nod. “Just a bit.”

Jungkook hums softly, thoughtfully. “I think I have an idea, if you’re okay with trying.”

One of your eyes pops open, and you look at him curiously. “Does it involve getting on the floor with the yoga mat like last time? Because I don’t know if I want to roll around on the floor again.”

“No, no,” Jungkook chuckles. He switches to massaging your other foot. “It’ll be a massage, I swear.”

“No offense, Jungkook, but I’m not sure how you can massage my lower back without me laying flat on my stomach, and well—” you gesture down at your prominent baby bump “—not exactly comfortably possible.”

One of his fingers comes up in the air. “That’s where my idea comes into play. Come on, the worst that can happen is it doesn’t work. What do you say?”

“I say, what the hell, why not? But, if it doesn’t work, you owe me dinner and ice cream.”

“I think I can handle that.” Jungkook’s tone is light and teasing, it almost feels like this is what you’ve always done. Like this delicate, flirty exchange has been a part of your dynamic from the start. What has been mere weeks, feels like years…and you don’t mind that, not one bit.

It helps to thwart any awkward tension as Jungkook helps you up onto your knees with your back to him. His hands are gentle, yet firm, on your hips as he guides them back until you’re practically sitting on top of his thighs.

“If you wanted me to sit in your lap, you know you could just ask, right?” The sassy comment is out of your mouth before you can stop it, earning you a shocked laugh from Jungkook.

His hands give your hips a generous squeeze, thumbs dimpling the curvy skin right above your ass. “I’m trying to remain somewhat of a gentleman here.”

“You may continue,” you say, fully relaxing into his grip.

“Lean forward, just a little, hands on the bed. Keep your back as relaxed as you possibly can.”

To lean forward the way Jungkook wants you to, you have to spread your knees apart so your belly can fit into the space between them. The cotton babydoll dress you’re wearing is probably not the best for this, as the fabric pulls and slips dangerously high.

But the moment Jungkook’s thumbs slide up and begin to press into the sore muscles of your lower back, you’ll do just about anything, as long as he doesn't stop. The flats of his fingers cup your sides, toying along the line of your ribs as his thumbs continue to work up through your mid-back and then back down again.

You let your head hang forward between your shoulders. A low whine gets caught in your throat. “That…is easily the best thing I’ve ever felt.”

Jungkook snorts a laugh. “And you haven’t even experienced all that I have to offer yet.” It almost sounds conversational, but if you didn’t know any better, you’d mistake the underlying heat of his words for something else.

“No,” you agree. “I don’t suppose I have…yet.” 

His thumbs pause for a moment, and you can feel the warmth of his breath brush across your shoulders as he exhales heavily. “Ah-um, does that feel better?”

You can tell he’s pulling back, intentionally not taking the bait. But, it’s so hard to tell if it’s because he doesn’t want to or if he’s just trying to respect you and that seemingly invisible line that the both of you have been toeing recently.

“It does.” You push your hips back ever so slightly into his touch. “But, I think it could feel better.”

“Yeah? How so?” Jungkook asks, voice low and full of barely restrained heat.

“You can stop trying to be a gentleman and show me how you really feel about me,” you suggest, peeking at him over your shoulder.

Jungkook looks like a man starved. His eyes are downcast, intent on the way his thumbs are now tracing lazy patterns across the top of your ass and over the curves of your hips. Slowly, his eyes slide up to yours, and the look there makes your heart launch into a frenzy of staccato beats.

One of his hands glides up your spine and comes around to cup your chin, turning your face even further to the side so that when he presses his body against yours, your lips are right there for his.

The kiss starts gently, like all the previous ones you’ve shared. But, soon, that isn’t enough, and you find yourself urging him for more. His tongue slides against yours as you part your lips, welcoming the wet heat of him inside your mouth.

His hands, once so restrained on your hips and lower back, map over every inch of your body that they can reach. Jungkook traces the lines of your shoulders, fingers feather-light as they pinch and pluck over the mounds of your breasts. Your dress rises and bunches as he contours his palms across your thighs and along your sides.

By the time you come up for air, your lips are tingling, and your entire body is alight. “There are many ways I feel about you,” he whispers, lips grazing along your cheek until he’s speaking into your ear. “You make me want to break the world and, in the same breath, remake it in ways inspired by the light you have given me because everyone should experience this—this beauty that you have brought to my life.”

“Words are wonderful,” you tell him, breathless and bold. “But I said show me.”

Jungkook hesitates only a moment, his eyes searching yours, looking for…something. You look at him with everything that you can, hoping he can see the joys and affirmations you have for him.

“Only if you’re certain.” The words drip honey, sweet, and tantalizing. All you have to do is say yes, and you know he’ll hold nothing back.

Gripping the bottom of your dress, you bring it up and over your head before tossing it to the side. “I’m certain.”

Your nipples draw tight, just like the coil in your belly, as you wait with bated breath for Jungkook to react. He doesn’t leave you waiting long, his hands coming around to cup you, toying with the tips of your breasts. Your entire body shudders as he rolls your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

“You are so beautiful,” Jungkook praises in a robust, husky tone. “I wonder if you taste as good as you look.”

Your body bends to his will, pliant as he supplicates you before him with your ass in the air. Jungkook slowly peels your panties down, and strings of your wetness cling to the fabric until it pops and leaves streaks of arousal webbing across your thighs. You can’t remember the last time you were this turned on just from kissing and being touched by someone.

However, the way Jungkook tenderly soothes his hands over your body is different from anything you’ve ever experienced. There is a heightened sense of connection and awareness. He ensures you know exactly where he is and how hungry and eager he is to know your body.

“Jungkook,” you draw his name out, the syllables lingering on your lips as Jungkook moves his grip to your ass and squeezes. The pressure pulls at your body, opening you to him.

An appreciative hum sounds from behind you. “I want to make you feel good, but you’re in control, okay?”

You nod against the cool, soft surface of the duvet. “Okay,” you say, knowing Jungkook prefers when you vocalize your understanding when he talks to you, and you hope that carries over even into such an intimate setting.

It seems it does when he groans and whispers, “Good girl.” You only have a moment to smile to yourself at eliciting such a response before all thoughts completely empty from your head when Jungkook licks a thick stripe through your pussy.

“Jungkook!” His name is a moaned prayer, and you’re simply a mortal on her knees, ready to pay any tithe he demands as long as he doesn’t stop.

You’re rewarded with another lick. His nose presses against your body as his lips pluck in tandem with his tongue against your clit, drawing obscene noises from deep in your body.

Everything tingles, and you feel like you’re teetering on the edge almost instantly. Your body is primed and aching for more, having been starved of such pleasure for so long.

“Shh,” he soothes when you whimper at the loss of his mouth against you. “I want this to last.”

“No,” you moan. “Please. Please, fuck me. Please, Jungkook! I want to feel you, I don’t want to wait.”

Tears prick at your lashline, and you think you really might cry if he doesn’t put you out of your misery soon. “Then I won’t make you wait. I’m yours, I’m here, I promise.”

You listen to the sound of Jungkook’s belt clinking and the distinct brush of fabric as he pulls off his shirt and works his pants off. Curling to the side, you press your cheek into the mattress and let your eyes drink in his form in all its glory.

Jungkook’s tattoos are something you’ve seen many times; it’s not like he’s never been shirtless for a photo shoot or during wardrobe changes. But seeing them displayed like this? It’s wholly different. He looks like a god, chiseled from marble and lust.

The breath in your chest catches when your eyes slide down. His cock is hard and leaking, bobbing in the air so close to your body. All it would take is for you to rock back on your hips, and you’re certain you could take him into your depths.

As if sensing your intention, Jungkook palms the generous curves of your ass and keeps you firmly in place. “We are going to take this slow. I want to feel every inch of you taking me in. I want to feel the way your body squeezes and flutters as you adjust. And then I’m going to fuck you nice and slow, the way you deserve to be.”

“What I deserve is for you to shut up and fu—uhhh,” your curse turns into a throaty moan when he gives you exactly what you asked for.

The swell of him is decadent, the stretch enough for you to feel it but remaining on just the cusp of pain. It’s the perfect mix of pleasure, making you needy for more.

Jungkook’s whole body shudders against yours. He wraps his arms around you, one across your chest and the other clasped in the dip of your thigh, where his long fingers return to toying over your clit. Your back presses to his chest, leveraging your body in a way that seats you further onto his thick cock.

“Perfect,” he growls in your ear. “You’re fucking perfect. Goddamn, I could cum just feeling you around me.”

You move with him, letting your body rise and fall in sync with his shallow thrusts. It puts pressure in all the right places, and with his fingers still strumming over your clit, your body responds in kind.

“You’re going to make me—” Jungkook swallows your words, devouring you with tongue and teeth as your body succumbs to the pleasure coursing through it.

His grip on you tightens, and you can feel the moment he follows you into the embrace of ecstasy. Jungkook’s moan vibrates through your whole body, his tongue lazily dancing over yours as you both try to regain your bearings.

Somewhere between the foot massage and the orgasm, something clicked. No matter how messy life might be, nothing can take away this feeling of rightness—this feeling that the future is full of healing. For both you and Jungkook. Because perhaps once someone is shattered, the pieces might not quite fit back together as they once were, but they can still be made into something beautiful.

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#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #dilf jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts smut #bts angst #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts imagines #bangtanwhq #btsfests

[froggibus]

Hi!

I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if I could request the Batboys with an s/o who passes out from a fever.

I hope you’re doing well!!

Passing Out From A Fever - Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Wally West

Pairing: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake and Wally West x gn! reader (separately)

Genre: hurt/comfort

Summary: your s/o reacting to you passing out from a fever

Word Count: 1.2k (Dick's), 1k (Jason's), 1.1k (Tim's), 1.1k (Wally's)

CW: sickness/the flu, minor injuries, reader is stubborn and refuses to rest, fainting, established relationship? gn reader but Wally refers to you as a 'damsel in distress', violence + drugs/drug dealers (Jason's) lmk if i missed anything

okok so sorry anon this request is almost 4 months old lmfao. i got a little sidetracked doing other stuff for a while but it is finally here. hope you enjoy it despite how delayed it is

--

Dick 

Dick looks at the numbers on the digital thermometer with a sigh. “Your temperature’s only going up.”

“Is that a bad thing?” You try to joke but your whole body aches, your skin is feverish and clammy, and your head spins every time you open your eyes.

He looks at you seriously, giving you the signature Dick Grayson disappointed older brother, team leader look.

“I take it no patrol tonight?”

He rests his hand on your thigh. “Not a chance in hell.”

“I figured as much,” you grumble.

“I’ll stay in with you tonight,” he insists, giving your leg a squeeze. “We can watch a movie or something. I’ll even let you choose.”

You let out a deep breath, leaning back and resting your head against your cold bed frame. His offer is tempting—it's not often he stays home during the evening. “Okay,” you nod your head slowly. “We’ll stay in tonight.”

He beams at your decision, planting a chaste kiss to your forehead before jumping up and leaving you in your bed. “I’ll be back in an hour, alright?”

You offer a weak thumbs up before relaxing back into your nest of blankets and pillows. It won’t hurt to sleep a little while he’s out, and you are pretty tired. 

— 

You wake up hours later, Dick nowhere to be seen. Your whole body feels like it’s been set on fire and beat with a baseball bat, but you still struggle out of bed to go find your boyfriend. Of course, he’s nowhere to be seen. 

You narrow your eyes, a sinking feeling in your chest because you know exactly where he is. Your hunch is proved right when you open the closet door with shaky hands and see the empty hanger where the Nightwing costume should be. 

What happened to staying in tonight? No patrol?

The thought of him leaving you while you feel this sick lights a fuse in your chest, and before you know it, you’re lazily tugging your own suit over your limbs. The suit only makes you feel hotter, your muscles aching in protest, but you need to see him. 

By some miracle, you manage to stumble your way across Gotham in the dead of night while dealing with an extremely high fever and body aches. 

Still, your boyfriend is nowhere in sight. You followed the trail of beaten thugs and failed robberies straight to the centre of the city, but Nightwing wasn’t there. You feel slightly woozy, your knees shaking below you. 

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket and you take it out, the writing blurry on the small glowing screen. You squint but the letters spin on the screen, and you can’t seem to make them out. 

In fact, when you look up from the screen, the whole world is spinning. Your head feels impossibly heavy, and suddenly your body is pitching forwards. 

————

Dick knows he’s fucked when he gets home and you’re nowhere to be seen. He sees the open closet door and the empty hanger where your costume should’ve been, and groans. 

If only he had just stayed home like he said. Guilt overwhelms him, but he swallows it back and forces himself to push through. 

You shouldn’t even be out of bed, let alone roaming the city dressed as a vigilante. Dick cards his fingers through his hair and starts to make his way through the city again. 

He assumes you were trying to find him, so he circles back through his usual patrol spots. The longer it takes to find you, the more anxious and guilty he feels. 

It’s all his fault that you’re even in this mess, stumbling through the city sick and disoriented.  

He finds you unconscious on a rooftop, tucked away in a corner, a small cut on your face from what he assumes was the impact. Seeing you like this makes his heart drop and for what feels like a thousand years, he watches you and waits for your chest to rise. He stares, holding his own breath until he finally sees your lungs inflate with air. 

He’s scooping you up in his arms and carrying you back to the apartment in an instant, careful not to jostle you too much. He can feel your feverish skin through your costume, sweat pooling on your forehead and neck. He could set a record for how fast he had you home.  

He changes you out of your suit and into comfortable pjs, patching up the mark on your face and tucking you into bed. He’s always taken care of his younger brothers so he knows just how to take care of you. 

He puts an ice pack on your forehead to keep you from burning up too much and gets water and ginger ale for your nightstand. He knows you’ll need fluids and medicine when you wake up and he wants to be prepared. 

Even after he’s prepared everything and double checked his, his nerves don’t settle. You’ve been out cold for at least an hour, with no sign of waking up. Another hour of this and he’ll have to take you to the hospital. 

He paces the room, eyes never leaving your sleeping figure. Wake up, wake up, wake up. He tries to will you awake, hoping your eyes will open any second and you’ll berate him for leaving you. 

“Dick..?”

His pacing comes to a stop, eyes snapping to yours. “Oh, thank god,” he kneels next to your side of the bed and takes your hand in his. “How’re you feeling?”

As if on cue, you groan in pain. The ice pack he placed on your forehead does little to help with the heat that’s ignited your whole body. Your eyes feel painfully heavy, and all of your muscles feel inflamed. 

He holds a glass of water up to your lips, helping you tip your head back so you can drink some. He pops a couple pills into your mouth and pours some more water in to wash them down. 

“They’ll probably take fifteen minutes to work,” he keeps his voice quiet. “You’ll feel a lot better soon though, I promise. I’ll make sure you’re all better.” 

You nod weakly. “You—you left me…”

Dick’s heart breaks at the sound of your sad, weak voice. He was hoping you wouldn’t dwell on that too much, the reminder that his fuck up for you into this mess weighing heavily on him. 

“I know, baby. And I’m so, so sorry. There was an emergency and I thought I could sneak out quick but,” he sighs and tugs on his hair. “I’m not gonna leave your side until you’re all better, okay? Never again.”

You’re too tired and sick to care for grovelling, you’re just glad he’s here and you don’t have to suffer alone. You reach a hand out to grab his hand and weakly tug him towards the bed. 

Dick obliges, crawling in next to you and letting you rest on his chest. “I’m gonna make you all better, hm? You’ll be all better soon, hun.”

His soothing voice coupled with the circles he traces on your back are enough to keep you content until the medicine kicks in. Then, you’re drifting back to sleep in Dick’s arms, already feeling better from the turmoil of the day

-

Jason 

You think Jason may be the most dense man on the planet. Unlike his father, his detective skills seriously need some work. 

When you woke up this morning with a fever and aches, you were sure you could push through it. It’s just a little cold, or so you thought. As the day turned into night and you got ready for patrol, your symptoms only worsened. 

Your body aches grew worse, your fever grew hotter and your movements got sluggish. Still, you brushed it off. You never miss patrol with Jason, and tonight wasn’t going to be a first. 

“You’re off to a slow start,” he teases. 

You would roll your eyes if you weren’t so tired. “Shut up. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

It’s a total lie, of course. And if he could see the swelling of your glassy eyes or touch your boiling skin, he would know otherwise. Lucky for you, the adrenaline rush Jason gets on patrol creates a kind of tunnel vision that allows him to completely overlook your symptoms. 

You stumble a bit, having to brace yourself against one of the shipping containers. You’re glad Jason shot out all of the street lamps at the old dock, leaving you in perpetual darkness. A perfect cover to hide the pain you’re feeling. 

You take a deep breath and groan, pushing off of the container and running to catch up with him. The friction only makes you hotter, the air being forced from your lungs. Your head spins and black spots crowd your vision, but you take a weak breath and force them away. Now is not the time to be weak. 

Jason tilts his head at you, and you can feel his judging eyes from under the mask. “Seriously, are you okay? Did you get hurt or something?”

“Did you? You’re off your game too, Red.” You try to nudge him teasingly but it just sends a shockwave through your body, your head suddenly pounding. 

He looks like he’s going to say something you don’t want to hear but you’re saved by the bell when an unlucky drug dealer stumbles into view.  Jason is pouncing on him in a minute, leaving you to your thoughts. 

His form gets blurrier the more you watch him fight, and you swear your arms and legs are growing heavier by the second. Your head lulls back and you worry for a minute that you’re going to pass out. 

You manage to catch yourself, pinching your arms to keep yourself aware. It works, but only for a second. You have enough time to make eye contact with Jason before your eyes are rolling back and you’re dropping like a sack of potatoes. 

—

Jason is freaking the fuck out. For a minute, he’s worried you’re injured—or worse. All he saw was your panicked expression before you dropped to the pavement. If he wasn’t so worried, he would have laughed at your lack of grace. 

He makes quick work of the remaining drug dealers, tearing through them with all the anxiety he’s feeling. By the time he’s made it to you, your body is practically on fire. He flinched away at first, not expecting your skin to be as hot as it is. 

“You idiot,” he lifts you into his arms, letting your head hang over his shoulder. “You should’ve just told me you were sick.”

He forces himself to keep his calm demeanour the whole way to the apartment. He doesn’t let himself worry until you’re both changed out of your patrol clothes and into normal, ordinary pyjamas. 

He has you laid down in the passenger seat of his car, his foot pressing heavily on the gas the entire way to the hospital. He knows it’s just a fever, but you fainted. Something could be seriously wrong, and he can’t chance anything. Not with you. 

—

You come to in the hospital, an IV in your arm. It takes a few blinks for you to take in your surroundings, but even then, it’s hard to keep your eyes open. Your throbbing headache does not mesh well with the fluorescent lights. 

“Jason,” your voice is barely a whisper. “Did you take me to the hospital?”

“No shit,” he scoffs. “

You would laugh at his brazenness if you weren’t in so much pain. The scratchy cotton thread of the hospital blankets aren’t enough to keep you warm, and despite being covered in sweat, you’re shivering. 

Jason sighs. “You’re an idiot, you know that? You could’ve just told me you were sick.”

“I-I—,” you can barely speak with how bad you’re shivering. 

Jason’s heart hurts at the sight of you, and despite how frustrated he is with your antics, he climbs into the bed with you and lets you lay against his chest. 

You relax into him, trying to sap his body heat. You know this can’t exactly be comfortable for him, especially considering you’re a million degrees, and it makes you appreciate it even more. 

“You know, I thought about just tossing you in the harbour and calling it a day.”

You let out a weak laugh at that. “I’m sure you did.”

“Okay, maybe not,” he admits, “but if you ever do that to me again, you will be taking an impromptu swim.”

“As you wish, Jay.”

He kisses the top of your head, “get some rest, hm?”

You nod weakly, letting your body sag against his. Just as sleep begins to take you, you mumble, “I love you.”

Jason’s heart flutters at your words. “I love you too.”

-

Tim 

Tim is such a hypocrite.

When he pushes himself to his absolute limit, staying up until he quite literally drops, it’s fine. But god forbid you try to push yourself even the slightest, or there’s hell to pay from your boyfriend.

“Tim, I’m fine,” you insist, narrowing glassy eyes on him.

He raises his eyebrows in annoyance. “You’re not fine, y/n. You’re burning up. You’re so congested you sound like a little kid. You need rest.”

“Rest, schmest. I’m coming with you.”

“Y/n, honey, love of my life…if you try to come with me, I will slip you Nyquil and you will take a nap.”

You maintain your glare. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Maybe I already have,” he shrugs, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “How was the tea I brought you earlier?”

Your eyes shoot wide and you scramble to inspect the now empty Wayne Enterprises mug. There’s no indication that it looks or smells different from any other tea. You look up again, ready to mock laugh at your boyfriend, but he’s no longer there. 

“Fucking Timothy,” you shake your head. 

He’s been trying to force you to get bed rest all day, refusing to even let you come with him to the grocery store. Sure, you have a fever and you’re congested and your head really hurts,  but that doesn’t mean you have to stay in bed. 

You toss the blankets onto the other side of his bed and struggle your way out of it. The air outside of his bed is cold, forcing goosebumps onto your arms, but you don’t care. You tug on one of Tim’s sweatshirts and stumble your way downstairs. 

He’s gone when you get down there, the only semblance of human life being Alfred sitting at the kitchen table. He’s reading a newspaper, seemingly deep in thought, yet the minute you step towards the front door, he speaks. 

“If you are trying to follow Master Timothy, I would advise against that.”

“I-I wasn’t…how did you know?”

He smiles at you, “Master Timothy expected you would try to follow him, and asked that I make sure you rest.”

“Damn you, Tim.”

“I’ve prepared some water in the kettle and there are blankets on the couch if you’d like to watch a tv show with me?”

“That sounds great, thank you,” you sigh, giving up and trudging your way to the couch. 

You settle in under a blanket, leaning your head against the couch cushion. Alfred comes in a few minutes later with two glasses of tea and a bottle of medicine. 

You thank the man and take a few pills and the mug of tea, swallow down the pills and set the tea on the nightstand. 

Alfred turns on the TV and starts to play one of his English soap operas. The sounds all blur together and you fade in and out of consciousness, every once and a while snapping back to reality when you hear the door unlock. 

Of course, a million people seem to come and go from Wayne Mansion and your boyfriend is nowhere to be seen. Alfred has seemed to doze off as well, his eyes closed and head resting on the couch cushion behind him. 

You stand up from the couch on shaky legs, discarding the blankets next to you. You feel dizzy and lightheaded as soon as you stand up but you persevere. 

You’re not really sure where you’re going, all you know is that you want to see Tim and the first step is getting to the front door. You make it to the front entrance, and you’re only five feet from the door, but your whole body hurts so bad and you’re so tired and everything is so hot and cold. 

You brace yourself on the wall, leaning your whole body weight on it. You blink a few times, trying to keep the black spots from spreading to your vision. Everything overheats, and your muscles start to weaken. Before you can take another step, your body is failing, and your vision is going black.

—

Tim comes home just in time to see you hit the floor. He drops his groceries onto the floor, not even closing the door behind him as he runs to your side. 

“Y/n?” He presses a cold hand to your forehead, “y/n, wake up!”

He gently shakes your shoulders, willing you to wake up and be okay. His family all arrive at once, staring at the two of you on the floor. 

“Why couldn’t you just stay in bed? Dummy.”

He slips his hands under your knees and arms, lifting you off the ground. Your skin is hot to the touch but you’re shivering, sweat rolling down your temples. He carries you back to his room, laying you down in the bed and covering you in blankets. 

He knows rationally that you’ll be okay, that your body was just responding to the exertion you put it through today. But emotionally? He’s freaking out. He can’t help but wish he’d stayed home with you, taken care of you himself, laid in bed with you all day. 

Tim tries to distract himself by bringing up water and medicine and a cold cloth for you, but it does little to calm his nerves. Every minute that it takes you to wake up, he only gets more and more anxious. 

Finally, after almost two hours, your eyes flutter open. Your head is pounding and it’s hard to keep from falling back asleep, but you force yourself to stay awake. 

“Tim?” You call out, your voice even raspier than before. 

“Hey, hey, I’m here,” he murmurs, getting up from his desk and kneeling at your side. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad,” you admit, tears threatening to spill. “Really bad.”

He hands you two pills and a glass of water. “Here, take these, okay?”

You struggle to swallow the pills and water but somehow manage. The pain in your body is enough to bring you to tears and you can only hope that the medicine will kick in soon. 

Tim rubs your forehead with the back of his hand. “You’re burning up…”

“I—will you lay with me? I miss you…”

Tim can only oblige. You just look so cute and so vulnerable with your glassy eyes and clammy skin. He wouldn’t dare say no to you right now. 

He kicks off his jeans and t-shirt, trading them for a pair of sweatpants before settling in next to you. He can feel your body heat even though he’s not touching you, and even though he wants to hold you, he’s not sure if he should. 

“Are you hot or cold?” He asks. 

“Cold.”

That’s all the answer he needs before he tugs you into his chest, holding your body gently to his. He places a small kiss on your forehead and makes a silent vow not to leave your side until you feel better. 

-

Wally

“Are you sure you should be going on this mission?” Wally looks at you seriously. 

“Yes. Why are you even asking?”

He presses a hand to your skin, recoiling when he feels how hot you are. “Jesus, you’re hot.”

“Well, hello to you too.” You roll your eyes. 

“Y/n, you don’t look too good. I don’t think you should be coming along,” he looks at you with genuine concern. “You’re running real hot and that’s coming from me.”

“Wally, if I don’t come along, the whole mission is screwed.”

“I know, I know. You’re so stubborn,” he sighs. “Come along but the minute you start to feel worse, you tell me, alright?”

“Alright.”

He flashes you his signature grin, planting a kiss to your nose. He squeezes your shoulders once, before giving you a half assed salute and taking off at the speed of light. 

You smile after him, but your smile fades once he’s out of sight. Your head is spinning and your whole body feels like it’s on fire. With the way your muscles are aching, you’re not sure if you’ll even be able to finish the mission. 

Still, you have to try. 

————

Going on this mission was a mistake. 

It feels like every floor of the sinister science institute is filled with more and more baddies, tougher ones too. You were beat after the first floor, but now that you’re on the fifth, with three more to go, you’re not even sure if you’ll make it. 

You can hear Wally up ahead, zooming back and forth and taking out any baddies in his way. You know he’s partly doing this for you—trying to clear the floor and make things easier on you. He’d asked you one more time before you entered the facility if you were feeling up to it, and after you insisted you were, he didn’t bother to argue. 

You almost wish he did, though. Your head is spinning, everything hurts and everything is so hot and sweaty. You try to force yourself to stay awake, but even you know your movements are slow and sluggish and you’re a danger to all of your teammates. 

Nightwing is somewhere behind you, insisting there’s an air duct he can sneak through to get to the main lab before they evacuate. A part of you wishes you’d gone with him. At least then you wouldn’t be stuck leaning against a wall, desperately trying to get your bearings. 

You force yourself onto your feet, stumbling down the hall after Wally. You only make it a few steps before your muscles turn to jello and the black spots crowd your version.

You go limp, your mind retreating far, far away. 

Wally turns around just in time to see you go limp, and he’s speeding down the hallway and catching you within a fraction of a second. He doesn’t give you the chance to hit the ground, his arms already under your knees and shoulders, ready to carry you to safety. 

Your skin is hot to the touch, hotter than it was earlier. He shakes his head at you. He knew this was gonna happen. He knew you would push yourself too hard and end up getting yourself hurt. 

He gets you out of the building and into the jet you and some of the other Titans had taken to get there. He hates the thought of leaving you there, but he knows you would never forgive him if he abandoned the team now. 

Still, he only gets more and more anxious the longer the mission takes. The second Dick secures the samples he was looking for, Wally is taking off. He’s got you in his arms, speeding back towards your shared apartment. 

He’s got you home in a matter of seconds, changing you into a pair of his boxers and one of his old t-shirts. He tucks your boiling body into bed, covering you with blankets up to your waist. 

He doesn’t really know how to take care of someone when they're sick. Whenever he was sick as a kid, he would always just eat ice cream and play video games. That, or he would sneak out and go hang out with Dick or Connor. 

But he knows you need more than ice cream and video games right now. 

He decides on grabbing you water and digging through your cabinets to find any medicine that could possibly help. He tries to remember what his mom did for him when he was young, and all he can think of is a cold cloth on his forehead. Still, that’s better than leaving you there to boil to death. 

He lays the cloth gently on your forehead, leaving your water and medicine on the nightstand for when you wake up. 

He changes out of his suit, opting for a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Of course, you’re wearing his favorite t-shirt, but this one will have to do. He settles into the bed next to you, turning on the tv. He tries to keep the volume and the brightness low. 

After what seems like forever, you start to stir. Everything is too bright and hot when you open your eyes, and it has you squirming and crying. Wally is grabbing your hand as soon as you wake up, using his other hand to press the cold cloth into your forehead. 

“Shhh, babe, it’s okay.”

You clench your eyes shut and shake your head. “E-everything hurts so bad!”

He reaches across you for the water and the medicine, holding the glass up to your lips so you can take a sip before popping the pills into your mouth. You gladly swallow them, relaxing slightly at the taste of water. Wally sets the glass on the nightstand, resting his hands on your thighs. 

“I’m sorry for pushing myself so hard…I’m sorry that you had to clean up after me.”

“Aw baby,” he grins at you, but it’s not as wide and carefree as it usually is. “You know how much I love rescuing damsels in distress.”

Classic Wally, trying to make you laugh even when you feel like you’re on your deathbed. He rubs your thighs gently up and down, trying to soothe you. 

“Did the mission at least go okay?”

He kisses you gently, “don’t you worry your pretty little head about the mission, okay?”

He goes to pull away but you weakly wrap your arms around him, trying to pull him to you. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, holding you tightly. 

“It’s okay baby,” he whispers. “Everything is gonna be okay. I love you so much.”

#dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd #tim drake x you #tim drake x reader #tim drake #wally west #wally west x reader #wally west x you #batfam x you #batboys #jason todd hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort

[chososluv]

𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 — Poly!ChosoYuki

✎₊˚⊹♡ summary & note: naughty FaceTime call!! something small before the big fic. i got a thought and went nuts!

🏷 tags & warnings: smut 18+, established relationship, FaceTime sex, fingering, squirting, mentions of cunninglingus, pet names (mamas, pretty girl, peach), masturbation (male), reader is referred to as she/her

✎₊˚  word count: 1.2k

minors do not interact

“We should show Cho what he’s missin’ right now. Huh, peach?”

Yuki’s sensual voice sounded over the sultrily r&b song playing in the background. You whimper, biting your lip as you see the flash on, indicating Yuki was making a naughty film of you two right now off her phone.

“Yeah,” you start, “I think we should.” Her fingers fall to your stomach, trailing down to your panty line. She hooks her fingers acting like she’s about to rip them off but she doesn’t. You let out a shudder of breath, wanting to protest but you feel her knuckles graze your clit and you begin mewling for more.

“Clit already standing so cute and puffy I feel it through your panties.” Yuki crudely comments, aiming the camera at your clothed cunt. Yuki’s dominating hand pushes your legs apart before nuzzling her strong thighs between them.

“Yuki.” You’re moaning, her finger circling along your clit ever so lightly. She’s teasing the hell out of you, but you know better than to protest. Yuki’s a sadist when it comes to torturing and teasing. Yuki could do this all night and if you dared to act like a brat she would break you before it’s said and done.

And take pleasure in every second of it.

“Choso look at how wet she is…” her finger dips down to the wet patch on your panties.. “peach getting off to sending you this little film.” Yuki giggles and reaches to rub another circle on your clit. You arch your back, moaning out as you were slowly descending to insanity if she continued to tease you.

“Yuki, please.” You beg and Yuki gives in. She moves her finger from your clit back to the waistband of your panties. She hooks her fingers and starts to pull down but ends the video for Choso. You hear the sound of the video being delivered as she continues to pull your panties off. Yuki whistles at the soaked through patch on your underwear before throwing it to the floor.  

“Fucking soaked.” Yuki curses and you laugh softly.

“It's all for you baby.” You tell her.

“Damn right it is, pretty girl.” Yuki says and begins to lean in to kiss you. Your lips meet, kissing one another and giggling in the kiss. Your fingers find her breasts, caressing them as her fingers rub circles in your thighs. She started to move her fingers closer to your center before the phone rang.

Yuki knew who it was. She breaks the kiss and reaches for her phone to see a photo of Choso lit up with the contact Pretty Boy. Yuki answers to see that it’s a FaceTime call and Choso appears. He’s in a bedroom — from what Yuki could see — with his hair down and shirt off. His face reads sexual frustration — his tattoo always grows dark when this happens — and Yuki knew her film do it to him.

“Hey, Cho,” Yuki says with a smirk, “did you like the film?” Choso blushes, shaking his head.

“You know I’m at home visiting Yuji and the family-”

“And yet you’re FaceTiming me while I finger our girlfriend.” Her fingers sank into your cunt as she spoke. You moan loudly, the sudden intrusion catching you off guard but also finally getting that stimulation you craved. Choso visibly shifts on the call, hearing you moan but he can’t see you. He swallows thickly and licks his lips before speaking.

“Turn the camera, let me see, y/n.”

Yuki obeys and flips the camera on the call, showing Choso her two glistening fingers that slid in and out of you. Choso mutters a swear under his breath, getting up to make sure he locked the door before he got busy. His two lovers were going to be the death of him.

“Look how cute and swollen her clit is, Cho.” Yuki brings a thumb to flick against your nub as she continues to finger you. Cries leave your mouth as Yuki’s ministrations make you start to rock your hips gently. Choso sees and presses a hard palm to his bulge before speaking.

“Such a pretty peach,” his voice through the speaker makes you whimper, “bet she could use my tongue right now, huh?” Yuki squeezes her thighs together at his words and decides to add a third finger in you. You whine as she curves her fingers upward to earn a lewd squelching from your cunt.

“You want Choso’s tongue right now, y/n?” Yuki asks and you nod as her fingers hit that spot she was looking for. You throw your head back, whimpering.

“Yes I miss his tongue. Miss your tongue, Cho.” You say and you hear him groan. He pushed his sweats down, freeing his cock that slaps against his pelvis. Yuki sees his thick member, veiny and heavy. Her mouth suddenly waters wishing he was here for her to taste.

“Miss eating your pretty pussy, peach,” Choso moans as he spreads his precum around his dick, “miss your juices wetting my face.” You shake from Yuki’s fingers hitting that spot again and Choso’s words.

“Should I make her squirt for you, Cho?” Yuki moves her fingers from your cunt, digits glistening as she rubbed messily on your clit. Arousal flickers from your cunt, to your thighs, and on the sheets. You let out a moan in anticipation, knowing Yuki was about to cause you to make an even greater mess.

“Fuck, yes wet those sheets for me, baby.” Choso fists his cock faster, another hand going to his pierced nipples and rolling them softly. His eyes never leave his phone as he watches Yuki finger you.

“Come on, peach I know you’re extra leaky tonight,” Yuki sinks three fingers back in, “be a good girl and wet the sheets for us, yeah?” Yuki coaxes you into relaxing your body and her praises and gentle words allow you to. You take shuddering breaths, feeling Yuki’s fingers start to move faster in you.

“Yuukiii.” You plea, arching as her fingers keep hitting that spot. Choso is watching intently, gradually seeing Yuki’s fingers get wetter each time they emerge from your folds.

“Fuck, Yuki finger her faster and then rub her clit.” Choso requests and Yuki does just that. Her fingers curve deeper, her pace becoming brutal and you wail out, screaming almost. Choso and Yuki both know it's about to come and Yuki slides her fingers out of your cunt. Her fingers rub sloppily on your clit, stimulation pushing you over the edge.

“I’m—fuck!” You attempt to warn them you feel the pressure coming but you were too gone to form words.

“Yuki’s gotcha mama," Yuki cooes, "go ‘head and squirt.” Yuki entices you and that ribbon within your belly unwinds and a geyser erupts between your thighs. Choso groans, squeezing on his cock as he watches you wet Yuki’s thighs and the sheets. Little tears fall from the corner of your eyes as the pleasure takes you to another plane of euphoria. Your thighs let out one last shake before you take a soft shudder of breath.  

“Cunt so messy.” Choso grunts as he languidly stroking his cock again. Yuki laughs and flips the camera back to her on the call. She smirks at Choso as she brings her fingers to her mouth and speaks. 

“So fucking messy,” Yuki licks you off her fingers, “wanna watch me eat her out next?” Choso smirks, the thought causing a soft pebble of precum bubble from his tip. Yuki licks her lips as her boyfriend groans, spreading his creamy essence around before he replies. 

“Fuck yeah I do.”

©𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐯 ╰┈┈➤ MASTERLIST!

#a lil sumn sumn for the wait !! she's short and sexy #𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄: 💗 𝐘𝐮𝐤𝐢 #𝐑𝐈𝐕.𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 #༄𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬: 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨𝐲𝐮𝐤𝐢 #𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄: 🍓𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 #poly!chosoyuki #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x black!reader #choso x black!reader #yuki tsukumo x black!reader #choso x reader #yuki tsukumo x reader #yuki tsukumo #kamo choso #choso smut #jjk x reader #choso kamo

[sadesluvr]

Freak - Mike Schmidt x Reader (Songfic)

Mike dials a 1-800 number and gets more than what he asked for.

A/N: Reader is a secret sex guru, and an unlicensed therapist, 18+ only. I'm going to abuse the FUCK out of this GIF. Based on the song 'Freak' by Doja Cat!

Word count: 2.2K

Tags: SMUT / Sub! Mike, Dom! Reader / Fem!Reader / Handjobs / Edging / Unprotected sex / Creampies / Marijuana usage / Brief mention of contraceptives (the pill)

‘Call 1-800-2323 for the answer to your troubles. Enlightenment is just a phone call away!’

Mike looked down at the card in his hands, given to him by Abby’s wellbeing officer out of concern for his personal troubles. He’d never read too much into spirituality, but considering psychoanalysis hadn’t gotten him much further than his usual dream it couldn’t hurt to try, right?

The dial rang, and he expected to hear a raspy elderly woman with a smoker's cough. What he didn’t expect was a lively, young voice at the other end of the line.

“…How may I be of assistance?”

“Uh — There’s something in my past — It’s been bothering me for practically my whole life…I need help finding the answers…”

“Hm,” the voice hummed. “Vague, but I sense you’re holding back…I like ‘em that way…Name?”

Freak like me You want a good girl that does bad things to you You never been with no one as nasty as me Spice up your life, come get a freak Freak like me

“Mike Schmidt,”

You'd heard of him from your mom’s friend.

“I’ll book you in for Friday at 8PM,”

“Okay…How much will I owe you? Money’s a little tight right now…”

“Don’t worry. It’s all free of charge,”

Tied him down to my queen bed Tease him just enough to hate me  Tied it tight enough, he can't break free  Keep him waiting 'til he try This can go one of two ways We could flip the coin, I'll be your slave  Call you daddy, give me a nickname I ain't afraid of a little pain (No, I ain't 'fraid of a little pain)

He showed up at the address listed on the card a little after 8PM and rang the doorbell, his hands in his pockets as he scanned his surroundings. You, the mysterious voice, answered the door, and you briefly took his breath away, dressed in a nude, flesh coloured spaghetti strap dress that stopped halfway on your thighs, paired with a sultry smile.

“You must be Mike,” you grin. “Come in,”

The interaction is brief, and he follows you to the couch, an armchair sat traditionally opposite like it would in a therapist office. You gesture for him to take a seat and he does, already feeling like he was under a spell. His eyes glance down briefly at your bare legs as you cross one over the other, letting out a soft moan as you got comfortable. Blood was slowly and suddenly draining from his face to his cock, and he moved his hands to cover the issue, which didn’t go unnoticed to you.

“So, Mike…What is it that’s haunting you?”

He wanted some'n else and he wanna be selfish He wanted them three rounds, DC had to come help him Look, I know your position Try to squeeze in the full nelson though Beat on it, beat, beat on it, mercy like a black belt give Daddy the grand master, daddy, I want it faster Them bitches you fuckin' with, I know they gon' need some practice So bring 'em along wit' ya, I'll teach 'em how to smash ya When I made a little mess on it, he told me to clean my act up

He told you everything; from his brother’s abduction to the breakdown of his family and his living situation with his sister. He was a tortured soul, and he just needed a bit of release. You were so, so glad he’d been referred to you.

“I empathise with you, Mike,” you sigh, leaning in. “It must be hard,”

Hard. Painfully hard.

“Do you mind if I sit next to you?” you say coyly, and he shakes his head. You notice he licks his lips as you get up, recognising how the dress is clinging to your body and beginning to bunch up your thighs. For a split second he gets a glimpse of your black lace panties, and his now fully hard cock twitches in his jeans. 

He wants you, and he’s almost certain you want him too, but a deeper part of him wants to let it play out. For once, he’s not in control of all of the decisions and he wants to keep it that way.

“What I’m hearing is that the route of your issue is frustration,” you say, eyes locked on his as you reach out to run your fingers through his messy locks. “When was the last time you ever thought about yourself?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t - I can’t — How is this going to help me find who took Garrett?”

“Because you’re thinking too hard, and it complicates things. It’s time to redirect your attention,” you purr, dragging your vowels so that it produces a tone that sends shivers down his spine. 

“…How?” he chokes, eyes wide and pupils dilated. You’re so fucking close to him now, and he thinks he might burst. You smell like weed and sex, and he can’t stop staring at the way your strap is sliding down your arms.

You slide off your dress in a quick motion, revealing your bare body. Mike is rabid now, unable to stop staring at your hardened nipples and the barely there material of your panties.

Freak like me (Tryna freak you down) You want a good girl that does bad things to you You never been with no one as nasty as me Spice up your life, come get a freak

“I’m gonna touch you, Mike,” you say simply, and it holds a thousand words. “And then you’re gonna fuck me,”

Hey, I could take a big bat, bet that he thinkin' this a game Hey, batter, batter swing, you could put it on a swing Freak like a triple XXX flick, put her on a chain This pussy off the chain, this kitty insane I could fuck him in the rain, I could fuck him in the Range (Uh) I could fuck him every day (Uh), I'ma fuck him 'til he sang (Uh) Milkshake bring the boys to the yard, I'ma need the whipped cream Ain't ever been vanilla, honey, just wait until you get a taste

He knows he can say no, but relaxes into your touch. One hand rubs his upper torso, massaging his tight muscles as the other is wrapped around his neck as you plant gentle kisses along his cheek and neck before you move to his lips. His kiss is eager, and he wastes no time in finding your tongue with his own. 

He needs this so fucking badly, and he doesn’t want to let go.

The kiss continues as you begin to claw at his body, and he briefly pulls away to tug off his jacket and shirt before resuming the make out session. His body tenses as your hands make their way down his chest, down towards the beginning of his happy trail. He desperately wants you to continue the skin-to-skin contact, but you slide your hands over his jeans instead, squeezing him through the material. 

He furrowed his eyebrows and let out a small whimper, earning a gasp from you. He was so pretty.

“That’s it, baby. Don’t hold back…”

Skirt off, fuck in the backseat Take that shirt off, baby, put it on me Got me like, "Yeehaw," ride it like a horsey Kinda like see-saw, up and down on the D, give it to him

You relieve his frustration by hastily pulling at his belt and unbuttoning his jeans, leaving him in his briefs. They were black and you could see a clear wad of precum that had been built up over the past hour. Wasting no time, Mike lets out a louder moan as you slide the material down, his cock springing up onto his pelvis. It’s average sized, but with a slightly thicker girth, and is bright pink with want.

“Kiss me,” you instruct, and he nods. His lips find the crevice of your neck and collarbone as you begin to grip his shaft, his tip between your thumb and index finger as you squeeze out some remaining precum, the liquid pooling around your fingers.

It’s pure pleasure for him as you take the entirety of his cock in your hands, slowly beginning to jerk him off, not forgetting to cup his balls as you do. He throws his head back as his hands clench, physical pressure dissipating as you take his hands in your own, guiding it to your breast.

“Fuck…” Mike groans, beginning to massage the skin as you coo in his ear, your grip tightening and fastening on his cock. Four of his senses are overstimulated, and the icing on the cake is your unrelenting sultry stare, making sure you were attending to his every need.

You were the goddess he never knew he could have.

Freak like me (Need a freak like me) You want a good girl that does bad things to you (You want a good girl) You never been with no one as nasty as me Spice up your life, come get a freak Do, do-do, do-do, do-do (Now you need a freak)

You could feel him shudder underneath you and knew he was loosening up, edging closer to orgasm. His whimpers and groans were now louder, and he’d found the confidence to latch onto your nipples, pawing at the skin with his hand whilst his tongue swirled along the hardened bud.

Spreading your legs over his, you angled his face towards you as, taking in his hazel eyes. 

“Touch me, Mike,” you said, gaze flickering down to your pussy. “Touch me like I’m touching you…”

He moves away from your breasts to make his way between your legs, his fingers sliding into your wet cunt. He lets out a deep sigh at the sensation, feeling rather proud of himself as you begin to writhe against him.

“Is this good?” he asks, sliding a second finger into you. 

“So good,” you moan. “You’re so good for me, Mike,”

His heart and his cock swells, and your bodies begin to move in sync. He quickly finds your clit as your pace quickens on his cock, and you both begin to reach a point of ecstasy.

“Y/N…” he whimpers, lips wet and eyes glassy. “I’m gonna—“

“I know, baby,” you whisper on his lips. “But not yet,” you say abruptly, and draw away. He’s shocked, and stares at you open mouthed.

You respond with nothing but a smile.

“I’m only here to guide you to enlightenment, not give. You have to do the rest,”

He’s totally blank.

“Let go, Mike. I’m here,” you say sweetly, and it feels strangely romantic. “Take me…Do you want me on top, or bottom?”

“Top,” he responds without hesitation. “You’re beautiful,”

Mike can barely contain his euphoria. You, a literal sex goddess, are sat on his lap, body on full display as he fucks up into your tight, wet pussy. The pleasure is almost painful, and he’s almost worried that he’s hurting you by the way his hands are gripped on your hips and his thrusts are desperate and sloppy. All the anger and frustration from his past was slowly unravelling, and judging by the knot in his stomach, so was he.

Freak like me Freak like me (You never, you never, you never been) You want a good girl that does bad things to you You never been with no one as nasty as me Spice up your life, come get a freak (You need a freak) Do, do-do, do-do, do-do (You need a freak) Freak like me (Like me, papa)

“Oh fuck,” you whine. “You’re perfect, Mike. So perfect,”

You weren’t lying, he looked gorgeous; pussy drunk and sweating, his frayed bangs clinging to his forehead in an odd pattern. Your lips met once again as he pulled you into him by your waist, the kiss sloppy as he drew his cock deeper into your cunt, hitting all of the right areas. 

“I’m so close Mike,” you whined. “Cum for me…”

“Where…?” he whispered. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to see you covered in his cum, or see it seep out of you and down your thighs. 

“Wherever you feel best,” you said devilishly, before placing your lips to his ear. “I’m on the pill,”

The words sent him over the edge as he came, hot and heavy spurts of cum filling into your warmth as you finished along with him. Mike bit his lip as he held you close, almost on the verge of tears as you soothed him through the last of his orgasm. A weight had suddenly been lifted away, and he could feel his eyes grow heavy with tiredness.

After a few moments you pulled away from each other, your nude bodies dropping to either side of the couch. Still high from orgasm, you pulled your dress back on and leant over the armrest to open a drawer, not oblivious to the way Mike was staring at you fondly.

Babe, you never been with no one nastier than me Oh, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby Put your head on my shoulder Hold me in your arms, baby Squeeze me oh so tight Show me that you love me too

“Wanna blaze?” You asked, holding a joint to your lips. He paused in thought, not wanting to let go of the moment before answering.

“Can I use your phone?”

You nodded and gestured to the phone, watching as Mike dialled a number. 

“Hey, Max - Can you put Abby on the phone? Something’s come up and I can’t make it home tonight…”

#florence_nomachine #florence writes!! #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader smut #fnaf smut #songfic

[sunlightmurdock]

The Parent Trap | 0.4 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

♡ In which, after a couple of years of listening to Peyton and Parker Bradshaw complain about their parents’ custody agreement, Grandpa Mav’s meddling goes a little bit too far.

♡ warnings: mentions of divorce throughout the fic, flashbacks to arguments and unhappily married people. Idiots who still love each other and don’t know it, drinking / being drunk, flashbacks and references to sex, minors dni, wc: 4.8k

…

“I’m not being mean, I just think he smells weird,” Parker decides with a shrug, moving the little silver dog six spaces and narrowly missing her sister’s monopoly of hotels on the right side of the board. She lifts her gaze and looks at you, just daring you to challenge her logic. “It’s not mean if I’m just saying what I think.”

Peyton’s lips twitch as she shakes the dice in her hand, but she doesn’t add any commentary this time. You narrow your eyes across at your outspoken daughter, finding so much of your ex-husband in the amusedly defiant way she stares back at you.

“What does he smell like, then, Parks?” You challenge.

“Wood.” She answers with a shrug as her sister rolls a solid twelve and picks up the thimble to skip along the board in front of her. Peyton pokes her tongue out in concentration, like it’ll do anything to prevent her solid twelve from landing her right on the Go To Jail space. She growls in frustration and falls back dramatically onto the carpeted floor. She has spent most of this round in jail. You’re beginning to feel sorry for her, but it’s hard when she has some of the best properties and a business strategy that should probably concern you as a parent.

“Well, he is a carpenter.” You remind her, picking the dice up and shaking them in your hand. With that, the man in question rounds the corner with two glasses and two juice boxes balancing in his hands and a smile plastered across his face. This is now the fourth time that Chris has met your children, the first being a month ago.

He seems to be growing on them if Parker is actively trying not to be mean this time. You still haven’t gotten your girls to ‘fess up as to which one of them buried his phone in the backyard like a wild dog. Like you wouldn’t notice when your hydrangeas started ringing.

“Here we go, an apple, an orange, and two coffees.” Chris hands out the drinks and struggles bending his remarkably inflexible legs into a crisis-crossed shape. They made him be the phone piece — you’re certain that it’s to taunt him about the burying incident — but he’s being a champ about it.

Peyton looks down at her drink and hums, “I don’t want apple anymore. I’ll take an orange juice, big guy.”

In the years since you last hung out with Maverick, it’s so easy to miss the little Mitchell-isms working their way into your kids’ vocabulary. Your head whips around, far more concerned with what she said rather than where she got it from. Chris turns his head towards her, opens his mouth and quickly shuts it again, readying himself to get back up. Your eyes widen as you turn to find your eight year old smiling back at you.

“Then go and get an orange juice, P. Don’t be rude.” You correct her with a stern frown. Suddenly, the apple juice isn’t as much of an issue. She stabs the straw through the hole with her eyes narrowed in Chris’ direction, but this is still a big improvement from last time.

This was never going to be easy, but in the weeks since you introduced your girls to your boyfriend, you have to admit that you thought it would be easier than this. You’ve never heard either one of the girls talk about their dad as much as they do when Chris is in the room.

“Dad knows that she prefers orange.”

“Well, she asked Chris for an apple juice and that’s what she got.” It’s hard not to grow tired when you know it must be wearing him down too. You take the dice and drop them suddenly into Chris’ toughened palm. He softens in comparison, simply smiling back at you.

“So, did you guys get up to anything fun when you were at your dad’s last weekend?” He tries. If they want to talk about their dad, he doesn’t mind — he gets it. It makes you feel even worse.

“Yeah.” Payton deadpans, staring across at him like dirt on her shoe. “What did you two do while we were gone?”

Your head turns towards her again. Chris answers coolly.

“Your Mom sold that new dress she was working on. Cool, right? — We went out to dinner to celebrate that. Other than that, it’s pretty quiet around here without you guys.”

He’s looking at the board, busy moving his piece. He doesn’t know your children the way that you do. He misses entirely the split-second in which they glance across at each other. They find you narrowing your eyes at them.

At once, they’re saved by your ringtone. Another glance is shared between the two of them as you push up from the floor and head for the hallway to answer your call. In your absence, Chris’ piece lands on Peyton��s Park Row property, with the hotel sitting on top.

His brown eyes flicker up to find the eight-year old staring at him expectantly.

“You know the rules. Cough up.” She demands, in a tone she knows she isn’t allowed to be talking in. By the look on their little faces, Chris almost instinctively reaches for his real wallet rather than the colourful little notes sitting beside him.

When you walk back into the room, the first thing that you notice is the silence. Looking between the twins and your boyfriend, your frown deepens. “What’s going on?”

“Chris lost. He’s out of money.” Peyton explains calmly, flicking through her stack of ones like she’s Vito Corleone all of a sudden. Chris turns to look at you and simply wiggles his eyebrows, giving a shrug of defeat as he moves to stand.

As much as you find reflections of your ex-husband in them every day, it tugs at your heartstrings to see pieces of yourself in them too.

“You okay?” He asks, cupping the back of your neck, craning his neck to look at your face. Your palm catches his arm, sitting against his bicep as he pulls you closer.

Parker kicks her sister and they both turn their heads to watch.

You lower your voice to a whisper, fighting to keep the disappointment off of your face. “Yeah… The sitter just canceled.”

“Oh.” He sighs. You’ve been talking about this night for weeks, it’s not often that you get to go out with your friends now that you’ve all got grown-up commitments. “D’you think Bradley could watch them?”

“He’s out of town for a work thing.” You explain dejectedly, leaning in to Chris’ touch as he swipes your hair delicately back from your face.

Watching him hold you close, Parker starts to consider burying his phone once again. Or dropping it in the toilet. Or maybe pouring honey into his work boots that she saw by the front door.

Or maybe, if she was staying true to the source material, she could get him on a camping trip and push his mattress out into the middle of the lake. But he’s bigger than Meredith Blake was, and she’s smaller than Hallie Parker was.

The honey will do.

“I’ll watch ‘em.”

Bradley was out of town on a work thing. He was gone from Tuesday ‘til Friday, he told you that. He got in a little after nine and thought about having a beer, but didn’t. Instead, he just sat on his couch and tried to find a show that would keep him up long enough that he wouldn’t wake up at five in the morning.

He woke up at 1am, his neck stiff and the show two episodes ahead of where he thought it should be. Groaning, he had pushed himself off of the couch and decided to head to bed when he had gotten the text.

The conversation he had with Parker last weekend crossed his mind instantly. They had spent hours talking about fate; what is was, if they believed in it. If Bradley hadn’t startled himself awake by snoring, he would have missed the text completely.

He slipped his phone out of the pocket of his jeans with one hand, rubbing at his tired shoulder muscle with the other, squinting down at the bright screen.

Please pick me up from the Hard Deck when you see this.

He hasn’t ever made you ask twice.

Chris offering to watch the girls had come completely out of left field. It had almost caused a full-blown argument, but that man just seems impossible to get angry with. Stroking your hair and calming each one of your nerves step by step, he swore to you that he just wanted you to have a good time, that he could handle two little girls.

Bribing them was clearly the only way this was going to work, and it seemed like Chris had that in the bag. Emergency numbers set up and ready, allergy information written on the fridge and a borderline military debrief with your twins had left you practically trembling with anxiety, but had gotten you out of the house nonetheless.

You hadn’t planned on getting this drunk. The plan was to go, have a couple of drinks with your friends, and Uber home after a couple of hours. It never works out that way.

In fact, you can barely keep your head up straight when you hear one of your friends call out over the music. “Is that Rooster?”

Blinking doesn’t help you see straight. The loud music, and the bodies in the way, and the irregular lighting doesn’t help either. You squint and finally find him. Wearing jeans and a tight fitting black t-shirt, heading straight for you.

When you squint harder, you expect to realize that it’s not him.

“Rooster!” The second that he reaches you, your arms are around his neck and your chest is pressing into his. You haven’t hugged your ex-husband like this in a long time. “What are you doing here?”

He wrinkles his nose, untangling your arms from around him so that he can get a good look at your face. It’s been a long time since he saw you this dressed up. Hair, make-up, heels. The dress looks familiar but he can’t quite place it.

“You texted me.” He watches your eyelids falling shut, blinking heavily and irregularly as he explains to you. He steadies you by your arms. “You wanna go home?”

There’s a disgruntled groaning sound before you try to look around at your friends. At this point, Rooster makes an effort to be polite and greet them all. After all, they were his friends too, once. They’re all as shitfaced as you.

“Come on, mama. I’ll take you home,” He decides for you, hugging you against him like your own feet aren’t secure enough for his tastes anymore. You fall all too willingly against his chest, your cheek pressing into the fabric of his shirt while he tries to keep the attention of your friends. “Does anyone else need a ride?”

Maybe they do, maybe they don’t — maybe their own husbands will get up and come get them. Rooster won’t leave them without knowing they’ve got a way home, so you know that once you feel the outside chill on your skin he must have made arrangements for them.

He sighs quietly and jerks you as he tries to get a better grasp. Outside, you can finally hear him properly.

“Honey, you need to walk. Use your feet.” He tells you, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary. Your head is lulled against the swell of his shoulder, you haven’t moved your feet since he grabbed you, and yet you’re moving towards the car perfectly fine.

Everything is happening in chapters. You’re skipping ahead and losing parts, not paying attention to much. Things aren’t spinning yet, but they sure are blurry. You manage to talk back anyway.

“I don’t.” You answer, head turned towards the sky. It occurs to you, briefly, that you’re going to be horrifically embarrassed about this tomorrow. Your feet try, then trip, and his hold on you tightens.

“What did you drink? — You alright?” His arm around your waist pulls you closer, your head lulling off of his shoulder and awkwardly onto his moving chest. You hum contentedly.

“I had a good time.” You whisper.

He sighs something about you throwing up in his car and you’re faintly aware of the sound of a car door unlocking.

“C’mere, honey. Just sit right there. I’ve got some water. You wanna sit and get some fresh air with me?” Maybe there are pauses in between — maybe he says it all slower than that, but you can’t really focus. Or open your eyes.

You know that he has guided you to sit against the tailgate of the Bronco because of the way your feet dangle. As a mother, you hate this car. As a girl who fell in love with Bradley Bradshaw — fuck, you love this car.

“Wanna drink somethin’ for me?” Rooster offers the bottle to your mouth and winces as you draw your head sharply away from it. He grabs your shoulders and stops you from teetering over.

You’re not sure how, but you settle into his side and find that his arm remains there. Draped around your shoulders as you rest your head against him.

It takes a while, but Rooster gets you to drink. It’s anyone’s guess as to how long you sit on that tailgate sipping from that water bottle, but his arm around your shoulder feels nice anyway — even if he’s just rubbing your back because he thinks you’re going to puke.

When things start to come around a little more, you’re laying across the two backseats and hugging the water bottle like a teddy bear. Your head is spinning.

“You alright back there?” Rooster calls to you, making you frown slightly and lift your head. Passing by traffic lights and street signs, the world turned on its axis as you try to push yourself up and ultimately give in to staying laid down.

He’s really here. Some way or another, you really forced this man to carry you out of the bar and spend his Friday night babying you. You want to know if you called, or texted, or if he was just in the bar and saw you — you thought he was away for work — but that’s all too embarrassing still.

Your mind is too cloudy for that level of conversation, your words still don’t sound quite right.

“You even didn’t question it.” Your body sways as he pulls to a stop at a red light, your focal point on the soft top of the Bronco swaying with you and kickstarting that dizziness all over again. With a swallow, you close your eyes. The swaying continues like the leather seats below you are actually built into a speedboat as opposed to a seventies classic car.

“Did you put that seatbelt on yet?” His dad-voice comes from the front. Eyes still shut, this makes you smile. You don’t even remember him telling you to. He peers at you through the rear view mirror. “Question what?”

All you offer him is a small shrug, not interested in a seatbelt in the slightest in your current state. This next sentence requires a deep inhale first, but is interrupted by a hiccup. “I text you out of the blue and you just… show up. Didn’t even check to see if it was for you.”

Bradley bites at the inside of his cheek, brows drawing together as the light turns green and another check towards the mirror confirms that you still aren’t wearing a seatbelt. He huffs and the car pulls sharply to the side, making you groan in complaint.

The radio plays on as Bradley stops at the side of the road and unclips his own seatbelt, then gets out of the car. Your poor brain hasn’t even had time to catch up before he’s pulling the door open and half-climbing in. You blink as he appears over you.

With the door still open, he’s just illuminated by the street light. His eyes have always looked so soft in the dark. The slight pout of his lips, the sharpness of his jaw, the bump in his nose. He’d started out with the most innocent of intentions, but as he leans over you across the backseat, it becomes clear that you’re both struck by the same abrupt chord of familiarity.

This is far from the first time that the two of you have been in this position. In fact, this is exactly how things started out the first night you hooked up.

He swallows above you. There’s a wonderstruck look on your face that makes his ears burn red. Your eyes search over his face and with each inch they cover, he watches them flood with remembrance. Warm pink spreads across his cheek, extending down his chest. It makes your lips twitch to think you can still get him to blush.

“Come on, sit up.” Bradley whispers, gently taking each of your hands in his and pulling you upright. “Let’s put your seatbelt on.”

Silently, you don’t fight him on the matter and Bradley knows that’s a win in itself. It’s not the first time he’s had to wrangle you into this car after a few drinks either. Your eyes are just on him, and he swears that’s where the heat on his face is coming from. His fingers fumble to get the buckle into the clasp.

The second that he hears that click, he’s withdrawing from the backseat and climbing back into the driver’s side. You stare at the rear view mirror as he pulls away from the curb. In truth, you had forgotten how gentle he could be with you.

“Thank you.”

He glances up at the mirror, then back at the road.

“Thanks for picking me up. Sorry that I’m…” The pause facilitates a deep inhale that stops you from hiccuping mid-sentence. He watches you sheepishly ready yourself to continue. “Such a mess.”

This, makes him smile. It spreads across his face just as easily as the pink hue had, taking over his features.

“Honey, we both know I’ve seen worse.” Oh god, he remembers. He said it so casually too, like he’s reminiscing on a fond memory. The memory isn’t quite as fond for you, but then again, you don’t remember too much of it. He used to always tease you about it.

The night you met him was your twenty-first birthday, and you were flirting all night, but then you had gotten way too drunk and he had to carry you home — with you fighting him the whole way. He called you alley-cat for two months afterwards. Your feral behaviour had clearly caught his eye, though, because he started hanging around the Hard Deck a lot more afterwards.

Things hadn’t ever seemed that serious in the Hard Deck. Everything was easier back then. The career you have now is exactly what you wanted, but you can’t pretend that some days you wouldn’t rather have a handsome aviator leaning over a bar and telling you jokes to make your shift pass faster.

He takes one more look up at the mirror and smiles again, this time because he finds you already not trying to smile back at him.

“God, I had such a crush on you that summer.” The second that you’ve said it, you have to stop yourself from slapping a hand over your mouth. Closing your eyes will do. You can feel him staring either way.

It shouldn’t be weird to acknowledge. You were married for over five years. In love for a good while before that. Of course you had a crush on him originally. But it’s at the forefront of both of your minds that it still feels like yesterday that you were sprawled along this backseat, stomach bursting with butterflies as he unbuttoned your shorts for the first time.

The salt on his skin, the smell of his cologne mixed with sunscreen and sweat. The way his curls dry after he’s been in the ocean. The way the sunset hits the browns of his eyes. The freckles on his shoulders, dipping into the valleys between his muscles.

The brush of the same moustache you had been making fun of for months against the most sensitive parts of your skin and with it — the realisation that you actually loved that moustache.

Shivering through the late summer evening heat, whispering his name to the stars as his smart mouth worked between your legs. He drove around with the top down a lot back then.

He remembers everything about getting to know you. Getting taunted relentlessly by Hangman because of the way he blushed when you used to tell him his drink was on the house. Almost falling off of his stool craning his neck to get a better look at you behind the bar. Making sure you were invited to every beach outing. The first time he kissed you, and the way you were looking up at him before.

“Sorry, that was—“

“It’s alright.” He interrupts. When he closes his eyes at the next stop sign, all he can think of is the sight of your wet footsteps leading up the steps on his back porch. You had come from the beach. He had known he was going to find you in his shower inside. It was the first time he had ever come home to you. You were barely dating back then.

He looks at the mirror, wondering if you remember that time in the shower.

You’re not thinking about the shower. Fingers spread out, trailing the seams in the leather, you’re thinking about the last time you had sex in this car. So different from the first time. Bradley had known your body so much better, the two of you were so much more comfortable together.

The girls were with your parents for an entire weekend while the two of you were out of town for the wedding. Before the reception, Bradley had tugged you outside and bunched your pretty dress up around your middle. Closing your eyes and letting your fingers inch across the seats, you can still remember his breath fanning across his chest, the low grunts as he drove himself into you. His arms wrapped around your body, your forehead resting against his bicep and your legs around his waist.

“Rooster.” You rarely call him that anymore. It’s the first name you knew him by, since all of his work buddies called him that. Bradley was something that came letter, something that felt more for just the two of you. The last thing you would say most nights. Goodnight, Bradley. It’s been a long time since you said that, but you know it would feel just the same coming off of your tongue.

He hums from the front seat, but doesn’t look.

“Could I sit up front with you?”

“Yeah, sure— let me—“ Too late. He hears your seatbelt unbuckle and knows what’s coming next. Sure enough, as he’s going at a steady forty along Palm Avenue, you swing one foot unsteadily over the console and wobble in the direction of the passenger side. “Baby—“

It’s out of instinct, purely because you’re stressing him out. You plop down into the passenger seat and turn your head to look at him. Wordlessly, both of you decide to pretend you didn’t hear that.

For his peace of mind, you tug the seatbelt across your body and clip it in.

“We’re in so much trouble if the girls take after you.” He teases, the smile in his voice cutting through the tension. You giggle beside him.

“Me? — Do you not remember what happens when you get too familiar with a bottle of tequila?” You answer back, eyes closed and a silly smile on your face. You remember. You remember having to carry him, practically dead weight, into your bed from the living room and spend the night rubbing his back while he threw up the next morning.

“Yeah, we’re in big trouble.” Rooster scoffs, pushing his fingers through his hair. You stare across at the tattoo on the inside of his bicep as he rests his elbow against the door.

You’re still drunk enough to blame the alcohol when you reach across and take his free hand as he steadies the wheel with the other. His gaze flickers down as you loop your fingers through his. “We weren’t that bad.”

This time he laughs.

“We weren’t? — So you don’t remember—“ He’s still grinning when he stops himself, already turning into your street. You two don’t talk about that stuff anymore. You’ve moved on. Those funny little stories are private now, entirely his. Your boyfriend sure as hell wouldn’t want to hear them.

He looks over at you as he slows down to pull up to the curb.

You’re already looking across, staring at him with a look he hasn’t seen in a long time. The smile that you flash him makes him think of that first year. Then, you close your eyes and exhale, “I remember everything.”

Even with the radio playing, there’s a silence that sits between the two of you as the car pulls to a stop. It’s at that point that everything in your orbit starts to spin, forcing you forwards and making you whimper. Bradley’s already out of the car and jogging around to your side as you catch your head in your hands and try to breathe.

“C’mere, honey. I’ve got you.” He reaches around you to unbuckle you from the car, pulling you out by your underarms and holding you against him as he shuts the door. It’s still not the most graceful procedure, but he’s gotten better at it. You’re not exactly making it easy for him as you wobble back and hit your head on the window.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” He breathes out.

“I wanna go to bed.” You complain, wobbling forwards and this time crashing into his chest. He secures one hand on the back of your head to keep you there, pretending like he isn’t checking whether or not you have a bump. Even now, he can’t seem to turn the dad-reflexes off. You sigh into his shoulder. “Take me to bed.”

His free hand finds your waist and he glances down, finally clocking where he remembers this dress from. You wore it the second night of your honeymoon. He remembers this dress very well — he used to carry a picture of you wearing it in his wallet. He’s ninety-percent sure that the twins were conceived because of this dress.

“Yeah, you’re going to bed, baby. Nearly there.” In truth, by the time he has carried you to the door, Rooster has almost forgotten that you have a boyfriend. He’s expecting the same sweet old lady that you’ve been hiring for years to answer the door. That’s why he makes no effort to peel you off of him.

Rooster stares at Chris, while Chris looks between the two of you. You’re barely awake and clinging to your ex-husband’s shirt, he’s holding you at the waist, keeping you standing. Chris looks barely awake, still fully dressed. Clearly a man who has been waiting to hear from you for hours.

“Is she alright? — What happened?” His reaction is positive. Rooster appreciates that much about him. Still, he can’t stop thinking about what Maverick said. If Chris becomes permanent, Bradley’s entire family becomes his.

“She just had too much to drink, she called me for a ride home. I gave her some water and stuff, but—“ Rooster starts to explain, propping you up and holding you halfway. It’s unclear if he’s supposed to just pass you over. He doesn’t know if this guy even knows where you keep the products you remove your make-up with.

“She called you?” Chris challenges. There it is. There’s the anger that Rooster was waiting for.

“I wouldn’t take it personally. She’s shitfaced. She just needs to get some sleep and—“

“Yeah,” Chris steps one foot outside and reaches for your waist. You fall compliantly towards him, the toe of your shoe dragging along the ground as he tucks your arm over his shoulder and props you up. “I’ve got her. Get home safe.”

Rooster’s face doesn’t give away anything. He’s not immature anymore. He wants you to find someone who can give you, and by default his kids, everything that you could ever need. That’s why he keeps his mouth shut. He can think whatever he wants.

“Sure, yeah. Can I just ask… uh… where’s the sitter?” He was so close to walking away and just getting back in his car, but it’s after two now. If that old lady is still here, she would have made it known. As sweet as she was, she loves to complain.

“I watched the kids.”

Bradley raises his eyebrows at your stone-faced boyfriend. Once again, his face gives away nothing. “You did?”

…

Tags:

@khaylin27 @fudge13 @slutford @averyhotchner @hangmanscoming @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @phoenix1388 @perpetuelledaydreaming @princess76179 @cherrycola27 @wkndwlff @xoxabs88xox @galaxy-moon @sugarcoated-lame

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #jake seresin #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #the parent trap #parent trap #parent trap Bradley #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x female reader

[kaciidubs]

G’Morning | Bang Chan x Reader

❣ Summary: A short thing about waking up in the morning to a sleep-dazed Chris, since everyone says how cute he is when he wakes up - and his tornado hair is just adorable to think about. ❣ ❣ Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff and implied relationships. ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | She/Her pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Reader is referred to as baby and pretty, Chan is referred to as Chris, mention of snoring ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣

The dull sound of vibration dragged her from the calm sea of sleep; a deep breath filling her lungs as the world slowly settled in around her. Eventually it stopped, and she was ready to press the side of her face deeper into her pillow until it happened again - this time, the telltale sound of her morning alarm filling the air.

Groaning, she slid her hand underneath her pillow for the cursed device and blindly swiped across her phone’s screen until the alarm stopped; whether it was snoozed or turned off would be left up to mystery - it had already done its job of waking her up, anyways.

She stretched her legs, a low groan rumbling in her throat before sighing away the tension; finally blinking her eyes open to the darkened room.

It was strange how familiar she was with the tried and true layout of hotel rooms - no matter the franchise or location, the strategic design of a small nightstand beside a decorative corner chair hugging the same wall of a massive window never failed to be a staple showcase.

Her half-awake study was interrupted by an all-too-familiar snore beside her, making a tired smile tug at the corners of her lips. 

Turning her head, she was met with the sight of her sleeping boyfriend - fluffy black hair and puffy cheeks being the most of him that peeked out from underneath the white blanket. She tried not to giggle too hard at the wrinkles the pillowcase etched into his left cheek, or the slight remnants of drool at the corner of his parted lips - they were simply the signs of an overdue heavy sleep.

Though, said heavy sleep would have to be interrupted when another loud snore vibrated through him - a side effect of his nasal problem, she learned.

“Baby,” she hummed, shaking his shoulder lightly, “Chris, wake up.”

He let out a low grunt, face scrunching as he fought against the pull of his consciousness, shrinking further underneath the blanket before pulling it just below his nose - cracking one eye open and blinking dazedly at her.

“Morning, baby.” She smiled softly, tucking her arms underneath her pillow to prop her head up.

Pouty lips melted into a smile that mirrored hers, blinking open both eyes with a covered yawn, “G’mornin’ pretty-” The blanket shifted as he stretched, accidentally nudging her with his left arm before rolling onto his side to face her, “-did I wake you up?”

She shook her head, melting at his heavy morning accent while taking in the adorable look of his puffy face, “My alarm did - I woke you up in case you got stuck mid breath -  your snores were getting bad. You can go back to sleep if you’re still tired, I just wanted to check on you.”

Chris blinked up at her, and even though he had literally just woken up his eyes glittered with love and adoration that wrote symphonies.

A comfortable silence fell over them as they simply stared at each other, gazing with a softness that would put even the best memory foam mattress to shame.

“I love you.” He murmured, pulling the blanket down just enough for it to settle around his bare shoulders.

“I love you too,” she mirrored, her eyes squinting with humor, “you and your tornado hair.”

Groaning, he dug his face into his pillow, ears turning a light shade of pink, “Stop, I know I look like a mess!”

“No, no, you look like you got into a fight with a hairdryer and lost,” she brought her hand to his hair, letting her fingers run through the unruly strands, “but that doesn’t mean you look bad - it makes you look even cuter, actually.”

He hummed at her words, melting at the sensation of her gentle fingers against his scalp before lifting his head, a relaxed smile on his pink lips. “C’mere.”

It was easy for her to gravitate toward him, watching as he rolled onto his back once more and lifted the covers so that she could scoot her way over to his side; her head finding home on his shoulder as she draped her arm across his stomach and hooked her leg around his own. He wasted no time in tugging her just a bit closer, his right hand tracing non distinct shapes against her forearm as he reveled in the feeling of her warmth mingling with his.

“We’re gonna have to get up soon if we want to make the breakfast call.” Her voice was barely above a murmur, yet she didn’t show any sign of leaving his embrace.

“We can always order room service.”

She snorted out a laugh, peeking up at him through her eyelashes, “I didn’t know you wanted to vacation in Japan for the hotel food.”

“Baby,” he hummed, turning his head slightly to catch her gaze, “as long as I’m with you, I don’t care what the food is.”

Her lips pursed, eyes warm with love, “That was so cheesy.”

“You know you love it though.” Chris smirked before pressing a kiss to her forehead, settling himself back down with closed eyes.

Huffing out a short breath, she laid her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes the same as him. “Sure, but not as much as I love you.”

“Alright, but I love you even more.”

A comforting silence settled around them, not enough to lull them back to sleep, but enough to allow them to enjoy the morning with each other; snuggled up and filled with love.

❣ This was inspired purely based on the fact that Chris looks like he gets into fights in his sleep because his hair gets so wild - and the fact he's like 10% there, 90% still asleep. This man has my heart in the easiest way possible. Also, if anyone has any apps/tips on how to make better formatted picture collages please help a girl out! ❣ ❣ Any type of feedback is appreciated! Whether it be a simple like, reblog, or keyboard smash and the most essay-like comment, feel free to share your thoughts. ❣

#bang chan x reader #bangchan x reader #kacii's masterlist #skz fanfic #stray kids scenarios #christopher bang x reader #stray kids x female reader #bang chan x female reader #stray kids fluff #bangchan fluff #skz fluff

[loomiseater]

First time

Warnings: smut ofc!, virginity loss, unprotected sex, p in v, and oral female receiving.

Billy Loomis x fem reader

A/N: this took a while because I was trying to decide how I wanted to write this, sorry!

Criticism is appreciated! I would love to know how I can improve on my writing.

Masterlist

Request page

Written: April 24th, 2024-April 28th, 2024

Published: April 29th, 2024

Wc:1233

Summary: Billy takes your virginity.

This request was from my fav @dollettecoquette !! 💗. 

You and Billy were in a heated make out session on your bed. Billy gripped your hips as you grinded into his lap. “You’re so pretty, you know that?” He stated as he pulled away from the kiss. 

“Are you saying that so you can get in my pants, Loomis?” You ask playfully. He looked nervous from your words so you decided to lighten the mood. “If so its working” you finished as he smiled a little. 

Just as Billy was about to bring you into another kiss, there was a knock on your bedroom door. You hurriedly got off his lap and he went to go sit on the chair at your desk. You both acted like everything was normal as your mother walked in. 

“Your father and I are going out to dinner with friends” she explained while looking down at her phone. “Your father left money on the counter for dinner, we should be back around 10:00” Your mother stated as she walked back out the door without even saying bye nor looking at you and Billy.

“No parents, this must be my lucky night” Billy said as he picked you up and laid you on the bed. Your giggles filled the room as placed kisses on your chest and neck. 

He pulled away from your neck as his dark chocolate eyes locked with yours. “I want you” he said. You knew what he was referring to but your heart started racing. Before you could think, the words spilt out of your mouth. “I’m ready.”

That was all he needed to hear before he took your shirt off along with his own. “Been waiting for this moment since we first met” he says while making love bites all on your exposed chest. 

He swiftly unhooked your bra and took your right breast in his hand and started sucking. Soft moans fell from your mouth due to the pleasure. You’ve never felt this type of pleasure before but it was defiantly something you could get used to. He soon moved from your breasts to in between your legs.

He pulled down your shorts along with your panties. Your core was aching even more, especially now with his breath coating your inner thighs. “You have such a pretty pussy” he said as he placed a kiss to your legs. Your hips jerked at not only his words but the kiss he gave you.

“Billy-please” you begged at he let out a dark chuckle. “Patience baby” he responded as he placed kisses on your inner thighs instead of where you really needed him. Your body was on fire, in this moment all you wanted was his mouth on you.

As if he heard your thoughts, you felt his tongue lick a stripe up your core. Your breath hitched at this feeling and it didn’t go unnoticed by him. He soon dived in and started eating you out like you were his last meal. “Billy-fuck!” You moaned as your hand gripped the back of his head. 

He was eating you out like mad man, shaking his head side to side, and slurping up your juices. You could feel the flat of his tongue on your folds. He raised his head to look at you for a split second, leaning back down and placing your legs on his shoulders. 

“Billy, it’s too much!” You whined but he didn’t care. “Taste so good” he said carelessly. It was like he was drunk from off the taste of your pussy. Billy started thrusting his tongue in and out of you and that was your last straw. You came all over his face and he enjoyed every last bit of it. 

You’ve never had an orgasm before, you’ve never fingered yourself, and never used any toys. You wanted to experience this pleasure during your first time and now you finally did. A sense of euphoria brushed over you and your brain was now foggy. 

“You did so good for me, princess” he stated before placing a kiss on your stomach. His face was glistening in your juices and he didn’t even seem to care. He hovered over your body for a second, then brining you in for a kiss. You now see why he enjoyed tasting you so much, you could taste yourself all in his mouth as you moaned into the kiss. 

His dick twitched a little at the moan you let out and you soon started to palm him through his jeans. As you two were still in this intense make out session, he began to unbuckle his jeans and slide out of them. He was already shirtless but you couldn’t help to admire his abs again after you two broke away from the fiery kiss to catch some air.

He pulled himself out from his boxers and you couldn’t help but to wonder how he was gonna fit inside of you. He was long, thick, and veiny. 

You finally announced your thoughts to Billy. 

“Babe?” You start off as he hummed, raising an eyebrow at you. “How’s that supposed to fit in me?” You question as he chuckled. “We’ll make it fit” he stated before giving you a kiss. You look down to see him teasing your folds with his tip before pushing slowly into you. 

There was a stretch and almost a burning sensation that you felt. You wanted to scream at the pain but you didn’t wanna be a bitch. “I know it hurts a bit baby but I gotta pull back out and keep thrusting” he said softly as you nodded your head. 

Billy pulled back out and thrusted himself back into you. The burning sensation was gone but you still felt the thrust, eyes rolling back from the pleasure he was giving you. “So fucking tight” he said lowly to himself. He was trapped in between in your legs, his grunts filled the room. 

He sucked in some air as he looked down at the mess you were making on his dick, it was art to him. “Feels so good” You choked out. “I know baby, I know” he responded. 

When he thought you were stretched out enough, he raised one of your legs on his shoulders and kept the other one down. Tears filled your eyes when he started thrusting even faster. Your nails soon dug into his back as he grunted from the sting.

“I love you so much, baby” He said as he looked into your eyes. “I love you too” you say breathless at his strokes. It’s like you could feel every vein of his dick inside of you. “Best pussy I’ve ever had” he said in your ear and thats when you lost it. Yours legs shook as you came on his dick.

He grunted from you clenching on him. He still fucked you through your orgasm as he felt hisself getting close. He pulled out and came on your stomach letting out a moan. 

“You did so good, princess” he said before placing a kiss on your forehead. You were still breathless at the activity you just finished. You then got up to pee and came back to your bed to see Billy laying his head on his arms.

“Can I sleep inside you tonight?” He asked as he grabbed your body softly. “What?” You asked as you then let out a giggle from his question.

#billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #scream #ghostface #scream 1996 #skeet ulrich #billyloomissmut #skeetulrichxreader #skeetulrichsmut #ghostface smut #scream movies #loss of virginity #loomiseater

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

hey can you do prompt 22 for chad please? hope ur okay!🤍

‘’What are you doing?’’ ‘’Drawing stars around your scars.’’

I'm so happy someone picked one of my favorite lines from the list <3 Do you get the reference?

my taglists are here  + you can requests (currently closed) here at any time

—

You were sitting on Chad’s bed in your night clothes, waiting for your boyfriend to join you and watch a movie on his laptop. The end of semester rush was approaching and you wanted to spend as much time together before the beginning of the madness, hence why you were sleeping at his dorm tonight.

It was only your third time sleeping over, but your and Chad's relationship was fairly new. At least officially. You and him had been dancing around each other, flirting and sharing kisses at parties for months.

Although your feelings for each other were obvious, Chad was hesitant to take the relationship to the next level. He would constantly push you away when things would get too personal. Initially, you thought it was a commitment issue, but as you got to know him more, you came to the conclusion that maybe something had happened in his past and made him untrusty of people and reluctant to let anyone close.

Lucky for him, you were patient. And very much into him.

‘’You have practice early tomorrow morning. Are you sure this is okay?’’

Chad laughed fondly, moving around in the dorm. ‘’It’s only 8pm. We’re nowhere near my bedtime.’’

You played with the corner of his fuzzy blanket, not letting go. ‘’I just don’t want to disturb your routine by keeping you awake for longer than you should. I’d feel so bad if you were tired tomorrow because of me.’’

Shaking his head, Chad walked over to you, dropping a kiss to your lips. ‘’There’s two hours before I need to go to bed. That’s plenty of time.’’ He went over to the nightstand and plugged his phone. ‘’Besides, I’m probably gonna fall asleep during the movie,’’ he confessed, feeling the weight of his day.

Then, he fell on the twin-sized bed beside you without a care, causing the bedframe and mattress to squeak under his weight. College furnitures are not the strongest.

‘’What movie did you pick?’’ Chad reached for the laptop, the movement causing his shorts to ride up his thigh, exposing a part of his past.

‘’What’s that?’’ you asked with furrowed eyebrows, seeing a pinkish scar on the inside of his right thigh.

You weren’t particularly looking there. It just caught your eye.

The light mood shifted as Chad tensed, visibly uncomfortable at the mention of his scar. He quickly pulled the covers over his legs, hiding them from your view.

‘’I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked,’’ you apologized, genuinely feeling bad for bringing it up.

You should have known not to ask about the scar. People rarely want to talk about them as they are most of the time related to something you would like to forget.

Before the Woodsboro attacks, Chad was confident about his body. He liked to show off his toned chest and strong biceps on every given occasion. But now that seven scars decorated it, he preferred to cover it — either with a shirt or makeup he had stolen from Mindy.

He was tempted to lie and say he got it when he was little, but the truth was too big and important to be covered by a fake childhood story.

Chad drew a breath, about to reveal something that would stun you. ‘’Have you heard of the masked killer murders last year in Woodsboro?’’

You nodded, having seen some articles online about it.

‘’I…I was one of the victims. The doctors said it was a miracle I survived my injuries.’’

‘’Injuries? As in plural?’’

He nodded in turn. ‘’There's more on my stomach.''

You furrowed your eyebrows, not remembering seeing any scars there.

Chad read your expression and reached for the back of his collar to pull his shirt off.

Your eyes fell to his collarbones and pecs, then his stomach, which was indeed mauled with six pinkish scars. They were healed, but the raised texture indicated that they weren't that old. You gently brushed your finger over the lines.

‘’Do they still hurt?’’ you asked, flicking your gaze up.

Much to Chad’s relief, there was zero ounce of pity in them.

‘’No. But sometimes I have dreams about that night and I can feel the knife stabbing me…’’

The dark confession made your heart ache.

You got up and went to your backpack where all your overnight stuff was, leaving a confused Chad behind. You grabbed an eyeliner pencil from your makeup bag and returned to the bed.

‘’Lay down.’’

Chad’s frown deepened, but he did as told. ‘’What are you doing?’’

You brought the pencil to his dark skin and began doodling. ‘’Drawing stars around your scars.’’

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog 

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101​ @vxnity713

#chad meeks martin imagine #chad meeks martin x reader #chad meeks martin #chad meeks x reader #scream 6 imagines #scream 6 #chad meeks martin x you

[dre6ming]

Kissing in the rain

The delicate beginning rush-imagine

More of my work: Masterlist

Pairing: Austin Butler x fem singer/actress reader

Warning: sexual content, sex (piv) fingering, kissing, mentions of bodily fluids, fluff

Plot: Austin wakes you up in the middle of the night to take you on a rainy adventure that ends in a steamy way

Word count: 2700

"Wake up!" I feel the soft touch of a warm hand on my back and then a little tug and shake as Austin gently tries to wake me up. It's pitch black in the room and I was sleeping so soundly  I can't come up with a reason for him waking me up, so my brain goes straight to fight or flight. ,my eyes are not used to the dark just yet, so I blink fast trying to shed any trace of sleep. "Shh it's ok, nothing's wrong, Y/n baby!" He assures me, stroking my hair, placing a soft kiss on the top of my head.

As my heart calms from the sudden panic I had felt, I turn around to better see him. "Are you ok?" My voice sounds hoarse and my lips are dry. I make the shape of Austin in the moonlight and see him faintly smile, shaking his head. "I'm ok darling, but look!" His right hand cups my cheek and he slowly turns my head to look at the windows. The first thing I notice are the ever shining lights of New York City, but then my eyes focus on the small droplets of rain and then my ears pick up the soft taping of water against the glass. I smile brightly, I love rain, it's my favorite thing, this must be the reason why I was having such a good sleep. "Get dressed!" Austin tells me, putting a pile of clothes in my lap and getting up without another word. He leaves the room before I can ask anything.

I put on the simple miss matched sweat pieces, I can literally see him in my head, fumbling around my closet trying to pick the perfect combination of a sweater and sweatpants, but ultimately failing badly. I brush my hair out and take a look in the body length mirror, laughing one more time at the dark pink pants with the light blue sweater. Before I go find him, I add some of my favorite lip balm in hopes of maybe getting rid of the dry lips.

"Austin?" I call out to him, immediately being met with the small kitten he got for me a few weeks ago after our first big fight. "Hi dandy" I pick up dandelion and stroke her soft white fur, she really looks like a dandelion. "Here, put on the rain coat." Austin tells me, handing it to me, a boyish smile on his lips. "What's happening?" I ask putting the cat down and dressing. "Shoes!" He's not telling me anything and the mystery makes my blood pump faster.

"Come on!" Austin puts his hand out and I take it. Now as I walk hand in hand with him to the elevator I take a look at him, he's wearing those ungodly grey sweatpants and his favorite long sleeve cotton shirt under his dark blue rain coat. "Phone!" I say as the elevator doors close and he pulls me back. "You won't need it." He says hugging me from behind, resting his head on my shoulder for the time it takes to get to the garage level. "I love you!" I say as we step out and he stops mid-step to look at me. "I love you too, my darling!" He leans down and touches his lips to mine, just a ghost of a kiss that leaves me wanting more.

"Come on!" Austin walks to my Jeep. "My car?" He giggles. "As much as I hate to admit, it's best for this weather." He clarifies, opening the passenger door for me. "So no Russian roulette tonight?" I ask quirking a brow at him referring to that time Timmy told Austin, riding shotgun with me was like Russian roulette, you never know how my driving could go. "I'd rather not tonight." He laughs at my joke, leaning over me to buckle my seat belt. His hand rests on my thigh, squeezing softly, as his blue eyes look into mine. "I trust you, but I don't want to ruin the surprise!" He says honestly, brushing some of my hair back with the hand that's not on my leg. "I know!" I say touching his face.

Austin then gets in the drivers seat, turning on the car and the heating at the same time. My eyes almost bulge out as I see the time 2:30 am. He rests his right hand on my thigh as he drives and the slow stroke of his hand, up and down my leg is all I can think about and suddenly when his hand goes so high it almost touches my core, the car feels to hot and I jump up, turning the heating down. Austin takes his hand off to switch gears and I curse the fact that I drive stick. The little whine that goes past my lips, is noticed by him and I see the corner of his mouth turn up right as his eyes watch me briefly. "Something wrong?" Oh he thinks he's so smug. "N-no." I say and wish that it sounded a bit more confident. "Ok" is all his says and I wait for his hand back on my leg, but it doesn't come and I try to not seem so bothered by looking out the window.

The rain started thickening, bigger and faster droplets of water fall from the sky and as much as I love him I kinda wish I was in my bed right now. Somehow I must of dozed off, because I try to wake up as I feel the car come to a stop. Looking at the clock it's 3:15 am so we drove for some time. I look out and I don't recognize anything. It looks like we are at the edge of a forest so we are clearly outside of the city. Did Austin finally go crazy and decided to kill me in the forest? I mean it's not unheard of. "I'm not going to kill you!" His voice startles me.

"How-?" I ask blushing. "I just know you and your weird little brain." Austin tells me, taking one of my hands in his. "Remember when we watched the notebook?" I nod, remembering the crying mess I was during the entire movie. "Well you said "kissing in the rain looks so hot" and I thought, when is it gonna rain next, cause I'm definitely kissing my girl in the rain." I'm shocked that he paid attention to my ranting during the movie and that he actually took me seriously. I shouldn't be tho, cause this is Austin and this is exactly who he is, the sweet loving boyfriend that listens and plans ahead.

"Come on. Take the rain coat off, we are going for the full effect." He says, starting to undress and I do the same, coming out of the car at the same time as him, impatient. "Let's dance." He extendes his hand out and I take it. I feel the rain soak through my clothes and turning my hair to a mushy mess. Austin let the headlights on so we could see, which makes the rain look like sparkling gems falling around us. I follow his lead, looking up at the sky, seeing the water shine in the light.

"I I loved you in secret

First sight yeah we love without reason

Ohh 29 years old, how was I to know"

He sings softly, spinning me in the falling rain. I move my body with his and hold tight onto him, placing my chin on his shoulder as he sings, his voice so soothing. His hands hold my waist tightly and carefully roam down my figure, sneaking under my sweater, cold fingers touching my flaming skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I shudder in his hold and turn my head to catch his lips in a kiss. It's sloppy and wet and hot and cold and divine and everything, it's life. My hands move to his wet hair, fingernails scratching at his scalp, pulling moan after moan from his lips.

Suddenly he pulls away, looking at me with his eyes on fire, pupils blown with lust. "Baby, I-" he licks his lips, pausing. "I can't-" he starts again but he stops. His hands squeeze me harder and I push my body against his, feeling through the wet clothes the bulge in his pants. "I want you! I love you!" I say, wiping away drops of water from his rosy cheeks. "Ok. Are you sure?" He asks again and I answer by kissing him and pushing my hips against his. "Ok, car now!" He growls and we rush to get in the back seat. Thank god we took the Jeep, we wouldn't have had the space in his Audi.

Austin gets in first, reaching between the seats and turning off the headlights. "We wouldn't want anyone to see, would we?" He winks at me and I giggle blushing. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I straddle him. Austin waists no time taking off my wet sweatshirt, his following close behind. My naked nipples sit hard against his warm chest and his hands find purchase around my breasts. He looks down at the way they fit so perfectly in his hands. "I love you, so much!" He whispers, giving my breasts a good squeeze, making me unconsciously press my clothed core onto him and grind on him, throwing my head back to moan. "Austin!" I sigh as his mouth takes a hardened peak in, swirling his hot tongue over my tender flesh.

He takes his time kissing up my torso and my neck, then my lips. I sigh against his plush lips and feel him lift his hips up, taking off his sweatpants and underwear at once. I feel his erection against my tummy and suddenly the burn between my legs gets so bad I can't take it anymore. I jump off of him, working my sweats off as he takes himself in his right hand, stroking himself. His Addam's apple bops up and down, his pleasure filled eyes watch me undress. "I don't have a condom so I have to pull out, ok?" Austin tells me as I climb back onto him.

I just got my first  birth control shot a week ago and I haven't told him yet, but I'll just keep it a secret for just the right time. "Sure" I say breathless, drunk on pleasure. My wet pussy makes context with his throbbing cock and I'm lost completely. One of his hands stays on my hip as the other goes between us and between my legs. Austin groans feeling how wet I am and his fingers venture further, circling my hole. "I'll just open you up a bit, ok?" He tells me and I nod, moaning as two fingers enter me at once, scissoring inside me and stroking the place that makes me go livid. I move against his fingers, fucking myself on his hand as he watches through hooded eyes the way his fingers get lost inside me.

"Such a good girl, fucking your self on my fingers, just how you like it. Hmmm so wet for me, so tight, so warm." He praises me, and I feel the bubble of my orgasm building up. Austin knows me so well, that he feels the change in me and stills me using the hand resting on my hip. I whine and show displeasure as he pulls his fingers out before I can cum. "I know honey, I know." Austin soothes me. "Please!" I sound pathetic, but I don't care.

Austin let's out a breathy laugh that ends in a moan, when his swollen head touches my warm wet pussy. Using one hand he placed himself at my entrance, holding my hip to stop me from sinking down onto him. "Slow, ok? I don't want to hurt you." He tells me, helping me down on him, slowly, inch my inch. When my bum touches his thighs and I'm all the way down, it feels like he's in my stomach. It feels so full. "Oh god, so tight all the time, fuuuck!" He swears throwing his head back.

Both of his hands go to my hips and he starts moving me up and down, it's devine, each time I come down his head nudges just the right spot making me shake. "Faster!" I say breathless needing more. "Fuck" Austin let's out, before his hips start moving up to meet mine. I brace myself on his shoulders and catch his lips in a kiss, grunting and moaning in his mouth. One of his hands let's go of my hips and goes to my clit, circling it teasingly.

I feel the knot in my belly about to burst. "Cum inside me!" I breathe, biting his ear as I start contracting around him, my orgasm building up fast. "N-no condom honey.." Austin reminds me and I intentionally squeeze around him, causing his thrusts to lose pace for a moment. "I'm on birth control, started this week, I get the shot." His blue eyes look at me begging, searching to see if I'm joking or if I'm serious. I nod and shut my eyes tightly as I feel myself so close to coming. "Cum for me Austin, come inside me." His hand goes from my hip to the seat in front of us and his movements get faster and sloppier as he teases my clit. "Fuuck!" We both sigh as we cum at the same time. My vision darkens at the edges and I feel euphoric, like I never have before.

"Y/n? Baby? Are you ok?" Austin sounds concerned, but I'm so comfortable here in his arms, with my eyes closed. His fingertips touch my spine traveling up to stroke the back of my neck and then massage my wet scalp. The feeling of my cold wet hair against my hot skin wakes me up. I lift my head from his chest, and look at him, with hooded eyes. "You're so beautiful like this!" He tells me cupping my face, kissing the tip of my nose. "Thank you, you're beautiful  too!" I say sleepy, yawning half way through. Austin laughs, shaking us both and I feel him soften inside me. "Can we stay like this forever?" I ask, hoping he'd say 'yes'.

He chuckles, gathering my wet hair in a ponytail at the back my head. "I wish, but we'd probably get pneumonia if we don't get dressed soon." I whine and cuddle further into him, enjoying his warmth. "I know baby, I love being this close to you too, but I think we should get home now." I nod defeated and he helps me up and off of him. The loss of him, leaves me empty and I look down to see our juices combined. Following my eyes, Austin curses looking at the mess we made, so he leans forward to grab the tissue box that I keep in my car, first taking his time to clean me as he peppers kisses over my chest and abdomen while I giggle from the ticklish feeling, drops of water falling from his damp hair. I tangle my hand in the mess of blonde locks and shake, making more water fall on my skin. "We won't get home soon if you keep like this." He warns, a taint of amusement in his voice.

"I wouldn't mind." I tease and Austin simply shakes his head, cleaning himself next. I start dressing so I keep my eyes away from the sweet temptation that is his body. And let me tell you, putting on wet, cold clothes is horrible, simply horrible.

After we make sure we are both decent and ok, we get out of the car, the rain has stopped by now. We get back in the front seats. I look out the window as we drive through the loud city, my fingers interlocking with his. I give his hand a squeeze 3 times and he responds by doing the same, our way of saying "I love you!"

"Thank you Austin!" I say to him, later when we are in the shower. His face softens and his eyes get watery. "Anything for you, my girl, my soul, my Y/n!" Austin confesses, hugging me tight and I close my eyes feeling at home. "My home!"

A/n: I know lately my blog has been lacking but this summer I really took the time to relax and work on myself, seeing as next year of college will be way harder than the last, this theme might last and post might come very inconsistently. So I want to thank you all for sticking around and reading, I love you!

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#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fic #the delicate beginning rush #austin butler fanfiction #austin #baz luhrmann elvis #elvis fans #elvis songs #austin butler smut #the delicate beginning rush imagine #the delicate beginning rush head canons #austin fanfic #austin butler love #austin butler fans #austin butler imagine #austin butler fandom #austin butler fanfic #austin butler x you #austin butler x fem!reader

[the-secret-keeper]

This just sort of came to me. Enjoy, I guess.

gn!reader x Barbatos

obey me x twisted wonderland

It sucks but it's here. Enjoy!

TW:

Talk of malnutrition, extortion, major leg injury (though not described graphically), angry demon boyfriend

(Reader is referred to as mc)

"You're going to be late, and if you're late you can't buy me more tuna!" Grimm whined.

I laughed lightly, before glancing back down at my phone. I gently smiled at the picture, before shaking my head and putting it away. Quickly getting up and stuffing everything I needed into my bag, I raced down the stairs.

"Finally." Grimm rolled his eyes in frustration.

"Good luck at your meeting!" The ghosts called from their various positions in the house.

"And don't forget-"

"The tuna, I know."

I nodded at my own words, beginning to take a step forward when I was overcome with a strange sensation. A sensation I had not felt since I came to this place. It was so sudden and extreme that I stepped on the wrong board, causing my left leg to go through it.

The scream that almost erupted from me got caught in my throat, but that didn't stop the stinging tears forming in my eyes. The reason for them, I wasn't sure. The pain from my injury, or hope from this new feeling.

I didn't register what was happening around me, unable to process everything going on. But I gathered what happened before I was lifted out of my trap.

Grimm panicked, knowing the ghosts couldn't help, and he couldn't do much. So, he went off to find someone else. It didn't take long, I don't think, as it isn't unusual for the first years to hang around my dorm even when I'm not there.

It was Jack and Sebek who hoisted me out of the hole. Ace and Deuce were arguing over the best thing to do.

"-here." I mumbled, finally deciding they were tears of happiness, just as they began to leak down my cheeks.

"What?" Jack asked. I stood up, ignoring the fact that I shouldn't be moving my leg, and without the adrenaline I wouldn't be able to.

"What do you think you're-" I didn't let Sebek finish his loud, scolding rant.

"He's here!"

Running out the door and through the mirror, I didn't even realize I had forgotten my bag. Filled with all the documents Crowley had so graciously asked me to do. It didn't matter though.

Because he was here.

And that meant that I would be ok no matter what. He would make sure of that.

There was blood trailing behind me as I sprint-limped through the halls. I was out of breath, and no doubt making my already severe injury worse. I didn't even wait to let them take the splinters and possible nails out.

Although, I must commend the other students. They could tell I was on a mission, and stayed out of my way. Whether that be because they didn't want blood on their uniform, or they were scared of what I would do, I'm not sure. I don't care.

The door flung open before I could register that it was me who had opened it. My eyes frantically scanned the room, wanting, hoping, that he would be here.

My eyes landed on him.

"Barbs," I softly spoke, leaning on the door for support, "you're here!"

"My love." He rose from his seat, also in shock.

"I," I stepped forward, using my good leg. "I was so scared!" I finally let the dam break as I collapsed, knowing he'd catch me before I hit the ground. "I was so scared, Barbs! I didn't know where I was or how to get back." I sobbed into his chest.

"Hush, my love, it will all be alright now." I clutched onto his shirt for dear life, as he ran his gloved fingers through my hair.

More than anything, I remember my cries echoing, as if it was just the two of us. I couldn't expect anything less. Barbatos is the only one I have ever trusted to allow my facade to break in front of. Though we have an audience now, it changes nothing.

I have never felt more safe than when in his arms.

"MC, please remove yourself from our guest and compose yourself."

"I hate you!" I screamed, causing Crowley to shut up, and everyone to look at me in shock. Well, more shock than before. "I can't take it anymore! Living in that building, dealing with Overblots, doing your job for you! I haven't eaten in three days because you cut my food budget for being unable to complete an impossible task!"

Though not directed at me, I could feel the death stare of my lover. His hold on me tightened, though it remained reassuring, and he never stopped toying with my hair. He was angry. But his main focus was me.

"Come, come now MC. I've been tru-truly generous. Letting you stay on campus. For, for free!"

"Are you saying their accusations are false?" I heard Diavolo ask. "That they're lying?"

"Well, n-no."

"Then you're agreeing that what you've been doing is inhumane?" Lucifer prodded.

"That's not at all what I meant!"

"I agree with our guests." Riddle spoke up. "Dire Crowley, this has gone on for far too long. Abusing your position to extort a student. Into doing your work no less when they have nowhere else to go."

"I agree. Though I had no idea it was to this extent, MC has done nothing but amazing feats for your school. The only reason this place isn't overrun by Overblots and is still functioning is because of them." Azul piped in.

"Show me their living quarters." I heard Mammon demand quietly.

And then I knew that shit was about to go down. My boyfriend is protective, and should he see fit, he would act without permission but it's rare. Mammon? Mammon doesn't want or need permission from anyone. The only way to stop Mammon at this point in time from tearing Crowley limb from limb is to have Diavolo or Lucifer intervene. But I doubt that would happen.

"I beg your pardon?" Crowley stammered.

"Perhaps you misheard me, Bird Brain. Show me where they've been living since they've come here."

"What will that prove?" He tried to distract. "Surely you'd rather have the announcement of your arrival commence first. Let's tell the students!"

"I'll show you." I had calmed, moving slightly back from Barbatos's chest. "I'll show you everything." I promised, a bitter and malicious glint in my eye that caused everyone from NRC to flinch. "But I must be carried. I have been, injured."

"Oh, allow me to take care of,"

"Dire Crowley." I said sternly, glaring at him. He froze, practically shaking in his old man shoes. "If you touch me I will command Satan and Belphegor to go berserk on you. No. Command isn't the right word. I will allow them."

"You, don't,"

"Have the gall? Or is authority the word you were looking for." Barbatos helped me to my feet. "I think you misunderstand your current position, Crowley. I have no reason to fear you anymore. Because anything you will try to do to me from this moment forward? Will only result in your death."

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x obey me #twst x obey me #obey me #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x mc #angst with comfort #I bet barbatos makes great crow #tell me what you think he'd make crowley into #i think whole roasted crow #fanfic #imagines #my fic #reader insert

[euaphora]

WHY IS IT TOO ACCEPT THE PARTY IS OVER? | ft. ARMIN ARLET

“Can’t we just take a break?” You rasp out “I feel like my head is going to explode from all this studying!” You say rolling on the floor from where you were studying for the past two hours!

“I can’t let that happen, you won’t be able to play if you are failing, can you? Open your book and answer the questions, sweet girl.” Armin smiles at you as he points with his pencil referring to the book you should be studying instead of pushing it aside. The last thing he wanted was for you to stop playing the sport you were so passionate about. As a good tutor he did his best to help you even when you were stubborn with him.

You huff out, rolling your eyes as you look down at the book going back to the question you were stuck on. You tried to solve it but once you thought you were getting it right, it didn’t even come close to any of the answer choices.

Armin noticed that even when you had struggled with something you never said anything or asked for may help. He thought you were trying to be a big girl about it and learn on your own but you just kept getting it wrong.

“Do you need help?” He simply asks. “What you don’t think I can do this by myself?” You clap back, giving him attitude. He didn’t have any reaction on his face, he never did when you would insult him. He knew you just like getting him mad and start something that wasn’t even there.

“It’s a simple question, do you?” He repeats himself. You hesitate for a minute and nod as you make some space for him next to you. He lays down sideways with his arm proper up, inches away from you.

“What are you struggling with?” He said as he looks at you with a small smile. You point down at the textbook and show him a equation you still can’t get because you don’t understand the formula.

Couple hours in you start getting bored and decided to play with him, the second you thought that, your phone starts ringing.

“Of course you can come over, Floch ! Just be here in 20…yeah I just have to change and take care of someone.” You said over the phone, armin had heard the whole thing being completely ignored when he asked you what you were doing. You get up from the floor and quickly over to your bed, kicking your feet as you continue saying goodbye and hanging up.

You hung up and threw your phone to the bed as you turn around looking at him with a furious face. “God, Armin! Can’t you shut up? I was on the phone and you were so rude interrupting-”

He’s now the one cutting you off as he grabs you by the back of your hair, now being in a messy ponytail. You winced out looking at him with shoke in your eyes.

“Cancel on him.” He spoke over you. You furrow your brows and shake shake your head. “Are you crazy? Absolutely not! He’s coming over so you- fuck. You better be gone by then!” You replied trying your best not to moan out when he starts pulling harder.

Of course you didn’t want Floch but the way armin looked when he heard his voice made you get all worked up, hearing his voice from the other line. He never got jealous so he didn’t know why he was now, had he gained feelings over you?

All you ever wanted from the start was for Armin to take over your body and control you with his hands and words. Remembering the way his fingers looked when he would hold just a simple pencil or the way he would manspread infront of you when he took him out to eat as a thank you for being a great tutor.

“I won’t repeat myself this time! Cancel him before you make things worse.” He scolded pushing you down on the bed. He wanted nothing more than to have you all to himself and only himself.

“Or what? You ‘gonna do something?” You laugh at him, looking back at him with a smile while he just stayed quiet. He quickly turned you around making you face him as your legs were on top of his. He looks at your body displayed infront of him, a panting mess with no embarrassment on her face.

He brushes his hands against your clothed pussy and watches as you crumble more and more. “What happen to the attitude, sweet girl? Tell me what you want, baby.” He looks down at you, taking off your clothes, admiring every part of your body.

“Don’t be like that, armin! I’ll be good, promise.” You whine arching your back, your bare pussy inching closer to his clothed bulge.

He unbuttons his zipper and pulls out his cock as he teases your folds with a hit. You whimper wanting his cock just to be inside you already. He slowly slips inside you as you grip onto it for dead life. “Calm down, I barely went in, baby.” He quietly laugh out. “Don’t laugh!” You cry out.

He starts slipping in further and deeper inside you, watching as you play with your nipples now. It felt so good you played with yourself even more as he went harder getting turned on even more as he saw you touching yourself.

“So eager, aren’t you? Just want any dick inside you at this point, is that it, baby?” He asks as he laugh at you trying to get any friction from him at this point. You didn’t answer though, too worn out to even utter a word out.

You felt a hard slap on the face as he went deeper into you, hitting your plush velvet walls. He quickly turns you both around, cock still inside you, making you shudder at the feeling of his veins pumping, now go deeper inside you. You start getting control back as you teasingly move your hips, slapping him back. “That’s from earlier!” You addressed, pushing him back onto the bed and go up and down on his cock.

He makes a quick note on that while using your hips to hold onto something as you kept pumping yourself up and down on his cock. “You just love acting up, huh?” He says as he smiles widely, looking up at you with watery eyes. “Fuck!” You scream out, arching your back a little bit further this time.

“t-that’s it, sweetheart…doing so good for me, making me feel so so fuckin’ good.” He grunted as he hears a man’s voice. He looks up from your cum-covered body and looks around, but no man is in sight.

He quickly gets up and picks up the phone that was making the noise under you, causing vibrations from under you. He smiles at the name across the screen as he hears whimpering on the other end.

Floch was still on the call.

#armin aot #armin arlert #armin smut #armin x reader #random drabbles #armin x y/n #armin fluff #armin x you #snk armin #aot smut #aot x reader #aot fanfiction

[carolmunson]

le dôme de verre (soft!eddie x badatfeelings!gf)

"Le premier amour est plus aimé, le reste est mieux aimé." 'The first love is loved more, the rest are loved better.' Antoine de Saint-Exupéry - Le Petit Prince

cw: badatfeelings!gf meets up with an old ex, eddie chaperones close by. adult themes, 20+, references to abuse, borderline abusive physicality, hurt/comfort sortaaa?, angst, humans being humans. soft smut reference. personally, i ended up actually hating this but i think i looked at it for too long. for more badatfeelings!gf click here.

He was surprised to see her in such a state when he got to her apartment. She was sat at the kitchen table, leg bouncing, the cordless phone sitting clunkily in front of her. Her hand still held the back of it, white knuckled. She had a sheen of sweat on her forehead, her eyes were rimmed red. She'd been crying. She never cries.

"Woah, hey, what's up?" he immediately went into 'fix it' mode, his innate need to emotionally regulate was sometimes for the better.

"Um, my ex called me," she said, eyes fixed on the grain of the small table, "He wants to apologize."

"Um, my ex called me," she said, eyes fixed on the grain of the small table, "He wants to apologize."

"For?" Eddie asked, slowly, cautiously, taking a seat across from her.

"I think it's for twelve step or something," she shakes her head, "Can't imagine he actually thinks he did anything wrong."

"Is he an alcoholic?" he asked, trying not to sound too eager about finding out a new thing about her. He knew she'd had shitty boyfriends before, her feelings -- or better yet, lack of them -- made that clear.

"Was," she says, "I think he's been sober for a while now, he was when he called me a few years ago."

"He's called you before? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't know," she let's go of the phone like she's finally out of a trance, "Didn't seem like it was important enough to bother you about it."

"Why haven't you ever talked to me about him?" he asks softly. She gets up and puts the cordless phone back on the reciever in her tiny living room, a loaded sigh leaving her lips, concaving her chest.

"I don't know, babe," she shrugs, "I think I talked about him for too long."

The bar is stuffy when they get there. Normally she never asks his permission to do anything, but they had a big conversation about whether or not her and her ex could meet -- how he felt, if he was okay with it, what he needed to know. They agreed that he can sit by them and supervise from a short distance, he didn't want her to be by herself if she was so shaken up from just a phone call.

They sit at the bar, her around the corner end closest to the wall and him on the opposite side with a seat between them. She places her purse on it to wait for her ex to come around and Eddie orders for the both of them.

"Hey, can I get that pretty girl at the end of the bar something to calm her nerves? Tell her I sent it over." Eddie winks at her, exaggerated and goofy -- she waves him off with a blush and a laugh. His heart skips -- his girl. The bartender puts the drink in front of her as he walks in. Eddie sees her entire demeanor stiffen. He almost laughed at how taken aback he was to see her like this -- suddenly smaller, the shine in her eyes a dulled black, posture straight, her smile meek. She pushes the drink away from her slowly while he makes his way over, sitting gruffly on the stool between them. He ignores Eddie, but of course he does -- he doesn't know who Eddie is, what he looks like. He's just some guy at the bar. "Hey Len," she says quietly. He leans forward to hug her and she obliges, sweat forming on her forehead, color draining from her face. She doesn't look at Eddie while her head is over Len's shoulder, her eyes shut tightly while she takes him in. Eddie's jaw clenches when he looks him over -- she certainly has a type. Form fitting ripped jeans, dark wash. He's thin -- sinewy -- his Led Zepplin shirt clings slightly to his biceps when he crosses his arms as he sits down and waits for his diet Coke. His chains, and he has a lot, clink on his pants. His boots are steel toe. His hair is a long sheet of dark auburn, he's coated in freckles and a deep summer tan. His jewelry glints in the light shining through the dusty bar window, catching on his nose ring the most. He's pretty. Eddie gets why she was probably so taken by him to start -- he shifts in his seat, nursing his beer while he sketches in a small note pad, ears pricked and prickling.

"Hey, bunny," he coos back at her, "You look real nice."

"Thanks," she says softly, "You look good, you look healthy."

Eddie lets a puff of air out of his nose, biting the inside of his cheek when he hears it. Bunny. That's his nick name. That's what he calls her.

He listens to them talk, it's innocent catch up -- she barely touches her drink. He tenses when he watches Len lean in to listen to her, coasting his fingers down her forearm. Lingering soft touches here and there -- she never lets him touch her like that. He watches the way she looks at him, it’s a face he’s never seen before. Cautious, she swallows a lot. Eyes big and attentive, she nods at every word he says -- like she's at a sermon, everything out of his mouth is a prayer.

Eddie sketches her like this, pen dropping when Len scoots closer to her and his hand warmly cups her knee on her crossed legs. His thumb slides over part of her thigh, palm moving upward. It's like he's watching from underwater, hearing Len's garbled muffled words -- something like 'Since I know how much you like having your legs touched.'

"I have a boyfriend," she says, "I told you. That's not why I'm here."

"Heh," Len chuckles dryly, leaning back on his barstool, arms crossing, "You assume a lot about how much I wanna fuck you."

The sentence even stings Ed, he swallows when he hears her soft 'Oh...I was just -- sorry.' The conversation gets a little tense after that, it hurts him to hear her explain her side of things. She's walking on eggshells, her voice soft and apologetic, pleading -- he's never heard her talk like this before. So soft spoken. So...tamed.

"Yeah, no, we've been together for five years he's -- he's really great," she says to him, shrinking into herself, ripping at the raw, peeled hang nails around her thumbs. Ed always knocks her hands when she does that, wrapping them up in his, giving her something else to play with so she doesn't keep breaking the skin.

"I don't need to hear about your boyfriend, bunny," his voice is stiff when he says it, "Surprised there's someone else willing to put up with all your bullshit."

"Well that's not really a fair thing to say," she says curtly, finally getting some fight back in her, "I wasn't the one coming in and out of our relationship all the time. That was you."

"Because I was sick. Do you hear yourself?" he speaks calmly to her, soothing, like he's explaining to her how the world works, "That's so like you, to make it about yourself. You're always finding ways to make me a bad person when I reached out to you to apologize."

He speaks to her in riddles, in sentences that sort of make sense but not all the way. The kind where you have to replay them in your head a few times to make them make sense and even then, they’re a little skewed. He does it on purpose — it throws her off and makes her nervous. She stutters and squirms just so he can catch her in a lie that he fabricated to begin with. Desperate to convince her that she’s bad. His arms are crossed when he speaks to her, he’s not yelling — he looks like he’s trying to convince her of something. Eyebrows raised every time he finishes a sentence, nodding so that she’ll nod too. Eddie’s grip is so tight on his pen he’s surprised he hasn’t broken it. He doesn’t even know what they’re talking about, but her voice breaks and it takes everything in him to not intervene. Red hazes over his vision while she desperately advocates and apologizes for herself.

“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for? Or are you just saying sorry to say it?” Len asks pointedly.

“I — Len, please — please stop,” she sobs out quietly, “I’m sorry for — for —”

“And of course you’re crying,” he says with a bitter smile, “Should I call everyone over so everyone can see what an awful guy I am? Look what I did everyone! Look! She’s crying!”

“Stop, Len. I'm sorry -- I'll stop," her voice raised slightly, furiouslt wiping her eyes, breathe rattling to steady herself, “Stop it.”

“Don’t yell,” he says sharply, leaning into her space, “If you’re gonna cause a scene I’ll call the fucking cops. You’re acting insane. I'm having a normal measured conversation with you -- why can't you ever be a fucking adult about anything? You're so dramatic.”

Tears well up in Eddie’s eyes while he listens, finally understanding why she never cries. He swallows thickly, his hand twitches, but he remembers what she said before they left, ‘Don’t intervene. I’m probably gonna cry, you’re gonna wanna get involved — just don’t. It’ll make it worse.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he watches her mouth form the words at Len, a shell of herself while he continues to kindly berate her. She nods, taking every emotional punch like she's grateful for it.

'You're right, I should've listened better.'

'I'm sorry, I should've been paying more attention.' 'No, you're right, you're right. I know.' He can tell she's just trying to appease him, this is how she talks when she doesn't wanna fight anymore. Isn’t Len supposed to be apologizing to her?

Eddie watches her search for him, tears welling in her eyes again while they make brief eye contact before Len's hand reaches up to grab her chin to make her face him.

‘Do I need to talk to you like a child?’

Oh.

Absolutely not.

Ed closes his notepad, shaking his head, "That's enough."

He hops off the barstool, walking around Len over to her, taking her hand, "Let's go baby, you've heard enough. I think this talk is over."

She shoots him a look, terrified but obedient, collecting her purse and getting off the bar stool with shuddering breaths. The bar spins around her, body numb, chest a mess of pins and needles.

“You’re kidding? You had your boyfriend spy on us the whole time?” he laughs, “Of course you wanted to start a whole scene, it has to be about you, doesn't it?”

"If my buddy didn't work at this bar, I'd start a real big fucking scene pal," Eddie barks -- chest puffed, head held high and tilted. Len follows suit and it makes her shrink behind her boyfriend who has no intentions of letting up.

"So if you wouldn't mind, y'know -- " Ed smiles tightly, "Fucking off and out of the way so I can take my girl home, that'd be great."

Len backs off, demeanor fading back into soft and understanding. He turns his attention to her, "You've always been my best girl, bunny. I'm glad you found someone who cares about you so much. Hope he knows how lucky he is."

He nods at Eddie, curt and tight, tossing some cash on the bar and walking out. Eddie's face quirks into confusion but her grip tightens on his hand. Her heart pounds, and new crop of tears threatens to rip through her at the sentiment -- because that was so nice. Maybe she really just wasn't listening well enough to him. Maybe he really is right. Maybe she does always make it about herself. Maybe she is bad. Maybe she's the issue, maybe she made it all up.

The scent of leather and cigarettes hits her nose and the slam of the van door jolts her out of her thoughts. She doesn't remember leaving the bar. She's heaving. Because what if everything Len said was true? What if everyone really is tired of her bullshit?

"You're okay, baby. I'm here, s'just me," Eddie says, pressing his forehead firmly against hers. He's caging her in against the side of the van, thumbs pressed into her cheeks, "C'mon take a deep breath with me."

She hears him take a sharp inhale through the nose and she follows suit, the van fills with the sound of her snotty breathing.

"Hold it, hold it," he mutters, keeping the breath in for a few seconds, "And let it alllll out, good. Good."

"One more time for me," he whispers, her body shaking with each rough and cracked sob bubbling up and out of her chest. They breathe together again and it quells her for a minute before her shoulders shake. Her face crumples, heat rushing to her cheeks when she starts to cry again -- broken, inconsolable. Deep, guttural sobs pouring out from her chest -- she sounds terrified. He pulls her to him, arms wrapping tight around her, hard enough that she feel him -- that she feels safe. He presses her face into the crook of his neck, feeling her tears stain his skin and the collar of his shirt.

"I've never heard you cry like this," he murmurs into her hair, his eyes welling up with tears at her broken sobs, "He hurt you really bad, huh baby?"

He lets her cry it out on his shoulder, soothing her, rocking her, singing to her, running his fingers gently over the back of her arms, the back of her neck, over her spine. When he hears the final, deep, shaky breath -- a sound he's heard so often when she stops herself from crying in general -- he knows she's done. She looks up at him, wiping her eyes, puffy and red, mascara in gray streaks down her face.

He presses a kiss to her forehead, "You need some water?"

She nods, sitting up and back on the seat while he rifles through old McDonald's wrappers and plastic bags. He finds a half filled bottle of Poland Spring only to open it and be met with the sharp sting of vodka.

"Fuck," he mutters, "Um..."

"S'okay," she sniffles, climbing up into the passengers seat.

"We'll stop on the way home," he offers gently, "That okay?"

She nods and looks at him while he climbs into the drivers seat, "Can we go to yours?"

"Sure, honey -- you don't wanna go to yours?"

"He knows where I live," she confesses, "And he's mad so I don't -- I don't want him to start another fight."

He knows what she means. She doesn't want that asshole to show up looking for her. In his side view mirror he can see him sitting in his beat up truck across the street, tossing a cigarette out the window and lighting up another. He's waiting them out.

"Sit tight, I'll run inside and see if they have any waters I can grab," he says with a pat on her thigh.

"Don't you get out of this van now, y'hear?" he twangs the sentence like a cowboy and a smile breaks across her face.

"You're so stupid," she croaks, "But wait, wait --"

He looks back from the open door.

"I know what you're doing, and I know you wanna go say something to him but just -- please don't. Don't start something," she pleads.

"M'just gonna tell him to go home, baby," he says softly, "Look how upset he's making you."

"Whatever you do or say to him, no matter what it is, it will become my fault -- so please, please let's just go back to your place, okay?" she begs, "Let's just be done."

He tosses a look over to Len in his shitty truck and takes a deep breath. He looks back at her and nods, "Fine."

After a quick stop at the store and the many, many, many, times she looked in the side view mirror to make sure Len wasn't following them they made it back to Ed's trailer unscathed. He keeps her close to him, the closest she's been in a while -- draped over his chest while they both lay on the couch covered in an old crocheted blanket his Uncle Wayne passed down to him. The TV and radio are off -- they lay there occupied by eachother's breathing.

He toys with her fingers, taking his rings off and sliding them onto hers, then back onto his, "That was really brave, y'know? M'proud of you."

"I cried and had to have my boyfriend come save me," she retorts.

"Stop," he says, "Stop doing that."

"You always...I don't know, you never let yourself just have an accomplishment," he doesn't mean to sound like he's admonishing her, but it comes off that way.

"You never let yourself be proud -- don't you know how good you are?"

His eyes search for any recognition of understanding in her face but it doesn't come. She looks confused, afraid.

"You're so good," he confesses, looking up at the ceiling, "You're the fuckin' best."

"Thanks," she says quietly, looking past him to study the weaving pattern on the couch cushions. She's half there, half gone. Somewhere between being in the trailer with him and still stuck on her barstool. Still stuck in her teens and early twenties. Still stuck being screamed at on the sidewalk, getting phone calls at four in the morning, stuck in the waiting room of a hospital when every attempt at his life feels like the last.

"What're you thinkin' about?" he asks, backs of his fingers brushing over her temple, "Talk to me."

"What if I'm not good?" she asks, voice catching in her throat.

"No, no, you --"

"But what if I'm not?" she repeats, "Ed I -- everything he did -- "

"I do that to you."

He doesn't say anything for a minute. He knows she's not like him but it doesn't erase the ways she's hurt him before. The push and pull, the give and take. The constant tenseness, biting sarcasm. The nights he'd flinch when she'd slam the phone down on him. The nights he'd replay the sentences she said to make sense of them.

And he did it to her, too. Revenge, he guesses, for the times she's done it to him. Their fight at the diner in the winter, the guilt trips, the way he'll stare her down until she gives up on a fight.

"You're not like him, bun," he says, shaking his head, "You're like you."

"Maybe," he starts, shifting on the couch so he lays next to her, noses touching, "Maybe we need to be a little better at talking about what we need, hm? 'Cause I think you went a long time without someone asking. Maybe I need to be better at asking."

"I don't need anything," she says, eyes catching a stitch of fear -- like she got caught in a lie, "I got it."

He smiles defeatedly at her, "Baby, you do. There are things that you need."

"No, I'm okay, I promise," she begs, "I don't."

He sighs, not wanting to press it. Right now this was enough, having her close to him. Knowing she needs him. At least for right now.

"I don't wanna be like him to you, Ed," she says, nestling back against his chest, "I wanna be better."

He hums, arms finding his way around her again before they fall asleep. Later that night, they don't fuck like they usually do, no. He makes love to her, slow and deliberate, both of them teary eyed and clinging to each other. He'd never had her to vulnerable under him -- he would bottle it if he could, this version of her. So open, so soft, so different than what he's had for some time.

“You know why I love making you feel good?" he asks, panting and sweaty, pressed against her under the covers. She looks up at him, her eyes answer for her 'why?', glassy and wet with feelings she had left over from the afternoon.

"You deserve it."

#badatfeelings!gf #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

[try-set-me-on-fire]

just really needed a hug sort of hug

for the soft prompts <3

Uhhhh this is a little angsty and vibey sorry about that! Set a few years in the future in a world where the lightning strike had bigger and longer lasting impact on Buck than it did in canon. Send me soft prompts! The rest I’ve done are on a03!

Eddie is pinching the skin by his elbow, the shiny part where it's new. Well, a few months old at this point, Chimney supposes, but he still gently smacks the man's bicep as he passes him to sit at the table.

"Quit it, Diaz."

Eddie makes a face at him but he puts his hand flat on the table. He then makes another, more stressed out face, and waves the hand in the air in a vague but emphatic motion.

"I want to call Buck again."

"You were on the phone half an hour ago."

"Yep." His palm presses into the wood again. "I am aware of that."

Chim hooks his left ankle over his right knee. "You two ever get word…"

"Every test came back fine- within normal- they didn't find anything. They have no fucking idea why his blood pressure dropped like that." Eddie crosses his arms. "Between the two of us we've funded the Los Angeles ambulance budget for the fucking year and the best advice anyone had was for him to 'rest and drink plenty of fluids.'"

"Shit."

"Mhmm." Eddie's knee is bouncing anxiously, and he looks exhausted. He has looked exhausted, frankly, since a fourth story floor went out from under him in June and he gained the dubious honor of being the first member of 118 A shift to sustain third degree burns. He doesn't pinch at it again, but he's gripping the scarred bend of his arm tight enough that it might fall under Buck's strict instructions to tell him to leave it alone. "He shouldn't have been back at work yet."

"He seemed fine, Eddie."

Eddie exhales, shaky and unpleasant. "He seemed like he was getting better from the flu, and then Chris found him on the kitchen floor. He seemed better on Thursday and then-" he shakes his head, breathes in, blows the air out slowly. "I've told myself that a lot today - he was ok when I left this morning, he’s fine, he’s texting me, it’s going to be ok. But he was ok when I left those mornings too." He blows out air again, and it whistles through his clenched teeth.

Chimney thinks Eddie wouldn't appreciate it, but he thinks very hard and loud that the universe should give the Diaz family a fucking break. He extends his leg so his boot taps into Eddie's.

"He was doing so good- he felt good in a way he hasn't in a long time." Eddie makes direct eye contact for the first time this conversation. "We were talking about him working towards recertification. Coming back here. He really does love the call center and he’s good at it, but he misses being a part of the team, still. And then-" he makes an unhappy little sound. "He exhausted himself taking care of me and now this… We can both say 'healing isn't linear' until our mouths bleed but he’s almost back to where he was right after the strike and- and he's disappointed, I know he is and just- just not knowing what life is going to be like one day to the next- It's just been… a rough fucking year." Eddie's mouth turns up in a real grimace of a smile. "But we have experience with those. So… we'll just keep getting through it."

Two memories play out in Chimney's head.

First: A beach day, sometime in the first summer after Buck and Eddie were married. The jeep had arrived first, but as Chimney did what Maddie referred to as his Dad Jog to the trunk of his own car to start unloading he noticed that none of its occupants had got out yet. From the place he was standing he could see Buck, lit up golden in the afternoon glow, twisted sideways in the passenger seat and gesturing wildly as he talked, absolute glee written all over his face. Eddie in the driver's seat and Chris, unbuckled in the back, leaned their whole bodies towards him like plants seeking photosynthesis. Chim had wondered if the sun had been lonely before it had planets to orbit it, and then laughed at himself for being poetic, and anyway he wasn't sure that's the order the universe formed in. Buck would know, he'd have to ask him.

Second: Thursday, when Buck had made it through pneumonia like a champ and then gone back to his job at dispatch only to take a nap in the break room that no one could really wake him up from. It gets more ethically dubious by the year for any of the 118 to treat each other what with their tangled web of marriages and less official family ties, but Maddie had sounded panicked over the radio, and they’d been the closest first responders, and Chimney is certain that even if they weren’t nothing could have stopped them from coming for their brother, son, husband. Chimney remembers Eddie kneeling in front of the couch, the exact quiet tone of his voice as he’d said “Honey, I’m right here,” and the lethargic movement of Buck’s hand coming to weakly grip his shoulder. But the real thing, the clip that’s going to stay in his mind forever and repeat without permission, is looking up from establishing a line in the ambulance and watching how Eddie was curled down towards his partner as he tried to keep a flash of blue appearing between fluttering eyelids. Eddie was talking and Chimney doesn’t remember any of the words because he was also stroking his thumb over Buck’s brow and Chimney can’t stop thinking that he has never seen a human being touch another that gently.

Eddie’s phone buzzes and he looks at it, huffing a laugh and scrubbing a hand over his face. “He’s asking about pasta shapes. Wait- is he in the kitchen?” He frowns and hits dial, and the phone only gets out a single ring before Buck picks up.

“Hey,” his voice drifts, tinny, into the room and Chimney feels some tight little thing in his chest relax a little.

“You better not be cooking, Buck, you’re on speaker so I have back up if I need to yell at you.”

“I’m not, I’m not,” Buck laughs. “I’m exploiting child labor.”

Distantly, Christopher says “Hi, dad.”

“And you’re not helping at all?” Eddie raises his eyebrow and Chimney bets Buck can see it, miles away at their home.

“Chris is doing all the work, I swear, and we’re just gonna dump on the sauce I made, uh- Wednesday? Tuesday? Whatever, I can supervise boiling water. I didn’t even pick a pasta shape, c’mon, farfalle or fusilli?”

“Fusilli. You should be resting, Buck.”

Buck sighs, staticky over the speakers. “All I did today was move from the couch to the kitchen table, and I walked very slowly. I’m wrapped in a blanket and everything.” There’s a faint rustling sound and then Buck continues in a quieter voice. “I promised I’d tell you if something felt wrong. I’m alright, Eddie.”

Eddie bites his lips, and then takes the call off speaker and steps towards the kitchen. “You’re ok? You feel alright?” He spins his silicone wedding band around his finger as he listens. “Yeah. Yeah, before you wake up, probably.” He says “Buck” and Chimney always wondered how Eddie said that name and made it mean so much, folding in care and exasperation and adoration like he’s laminating butter between layers of dough. “Alright, I love you. I love you. Yeah. Tomorrow.”

He hangs up and as he exhales the alarm goes off overhead, because of course it does. Eddie starts towards the stairs but Chimney hurries forward and grabs him first and pulls him into the tightest hug he can. Eddie clings onto him for a moment, and they can only spare seconds for this attempt at comfort but he looks grateful when he pulls back, looks a little less tense.

"I love you, bud," Chimney says, and Eddie actually laughs at him as they head down the stairs. Chim swipes at the back of his brother in-law in-law's head as they pull on their gear and load into the engine and Eddie dodges with the practiced ease of a man with siblings. When they're in their seats and headed to the scene, though, Eddie leans forward and knocks his elbow into Chimney's knee.

"Love you, too." Eddie smiles. Three silhouettes in a car. A gentle touch. Things are going to be ok.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #chimney han #911 fox #my writing

[bonny-kookoo]

Can we maybe get a tongue tied Drabble where mc joins one of the boys (or all of the boys) during a vlive? I can just imagine her being super shy and quiet at first, but after a while she gets more comfortable and even talks to army. Just imagine her getting super excited everytime someone comments on how cute/pretty she is 😭

Initially, Seokjin had just wanted to do a regular livestream. But then, Jungkook had randomly visited with you in tow- and so, now, today, the regular live turned into a special one.

"Everyone, it's JK and our puppy!" He offers into his phone still standing on the table, and at that, your tail stops wagging as you realize why his phone is there in the first place.

Jungkook can't help but laugh for a second at your sudden reaction. "You can sit on the side if you don't wanna be on camera." He softly tells you, taking your jacket from you as you slowly take it off, a bit uncomfortable now at the prospect of the fans watching.

It's all fine and dandy when you're with everyone. But today, it's clear that you were with Jungkook only, so it might fuel some not so nice comments. Every staff had warned you about that, after all; don't initiate skinship, don't look at them too much, don't talk to them or in general, just sit there and be pretty.

Maybe if you go that route here too, it might not be that bad?

You sit down in a corner just like Jungkook had offered you, but surprisingly, the chatting fans aren't at all happy about that. Comments flood the screen about where you've gone to, why you're not visible, if you're shy. "Ah, yes, she's a bit shy." Jin says gently, laughing when you look up at that, looking at him from behind his phone. "She usually sits on Jungkookies lap all day!" He jokes, making you absolutely horrified at the potential comments this could cause.

But Jin only laughs as he reads what's flowing in. "Someone said 'I would take that seat too if I could' yes! He's got some strong thighs!" He laughs, hitting the maknae's legs in a joking manner, making the singer shake his head as he hits back.

"Ah, she's not permanently living with me! She just stays over sometimes." Jungkook refers to some comments confused as to why you were with the youngest of the group in the first place. "We don't want her being alone so much, so she's with one of us most of the time." He explains.

"We should go fishing with Yoongi!" Seokjin tells you, and your tail starts to wag as you nod with excitement. "Ah, you're all so unfortunate you can't see her! She's so cute!" He laughs his signature laugh, making you blush, and the comments complain over the lack of you in the picture.

"Does she get into trouble if she's on live? Ah, no, we wouldn't let that happen." Jungkook denies a fan in the chat who's asked about the rules. "I didn't even know he was live, to be honest." He shrugs, looking at Seokjin who now leans back on the couch, holding out his hands.

"Come on now, I never get to have you close, it's unfair!" He complains, and you hesitate, looking between him and Jungkook constantly. "Army, she doesn't like me. I knew it. She only likes our Jungkookie, no one else." He shakes his head in fake disappointment, and at that you slowly get up from the floor to walk closer and pat the head he's got in his hands as he fake-cries.

Immediately, at the sight of you petting the oldest's head, the comments erupt into hearts and emojis. Sure, there's the occasional question as to why you can't just leave or why you have to be there in the first place, but surprisingly, most seem to be happy. "Ah, finally! Now come here!" He laughs, sitting you on one of his legs where you sit, watching the different emojis flood in.

Everything else is too fast to read- but it's not like you could read it any slower either.

"They're all saying how pretty you are." Jungkook picks up on your disappointment, pointing at the phone. "See? Hearts. So many hearts for you." He chuckles when your tail starts to wag, the prospect of being in front of a live audience not too scary any longer.

And though you stay quiet for the entire duration of the livestream, it definitely made your reputation skyrocket practically overnight- news outlets covering every significant moment of the live, while others post screenshots and short clips on multiple social media platforms. The agency itself doesn't like that at all-

Because once the public begins to love you too much, it'll be impossible to get rid of you again.

At least not in the way they had planned.

But for the band, it's absolute heaven on earth watching all the positive comments and reactions from people. After all, they already love you more than enough to want to keep you-

And with rebels like Seokjin who will do what he wants anyways, your place is basically set in stone already.

Because you're not just something for publicity anymore, or social therapy-

You're part of the pack.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #seokjin imagine #jin imagine

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

eddie buy you a sex toy before he leaves on tour and he likes to call you at night making you put the phone by your pussy so he can hear all the pretty wet sounds youre making....he doesn't even touch himself he just wants to listen before he goes on stage.

18 + under the cut

Warnings: sex toys, phone sex. No use of y/n. Eddie refers to you as "baby" and "princess".

A/n: Not proofread. Very short, smutty blurb.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

"Come on baby, pleeease for me?" Eddie begged.

"Do it for me princess." He said, biting his lower lip as he spoke to you from the other line. He's got the biggest shit eating grin on his face as hes talking to you. He is currently backstage about to perform for thousands tonight. But he can't seem to take a moment and not tease you.

You groan, "Ed I can't it's...it's way too big."

Raising his eyebrows up, he leans himself against the wall, looking around to make sure no one can hear him. "Baby, come on, just try for me, yeah?

"You take me just fine. Pretend it's me, okay." Eddie reassured.

"Okay, Ed, what do you want me to do?" You say leaning back against your satin sheets. You disregarded your clothes a long time ago when you noticed Eddie was calling you.

"I want you put the phone by your pussy as you fuck yourself on that fake cock you wish was mine. " He said with a little more authority in his voice now.

He has a habit of getting you all worked up and needy for him before he goes on stage. The way you begged and moaned for him to let you cum only to be denied everytime. You hope tonight he'll make an exception. He's edged you and denied you orgasm after orgasm for months now. Telling you he's saving them for later once the tour is over.

Groaning you do as you're told and try to put the phone as close as you can. You're feeling a little embarrassed, but do as you're told. Grabbing the toy Eddie bought just for you before he left on tour. Telling you not to use it until he allowed it. You were a good girl and never touched it.

That doesn't mean you never wanted to. Your fingers just weren't doing the trick like they used to. They weren't long and thick like Eddie's. You missed the feeling of being completely spread open. The more Eddie told you to fuck yourself with just your fingers only denying you of your orgasms has made you so desperate for more.

"I hope you can hear me, Eddie." You call out as you put him on speaker phone.

"Yeah, I can hear you juuust fine princess." He smirked into the phone.

Picking up the toy, you drag it up and down folds, getting it nice and wet. You whimper a little when it nudges at your neglected clit. You can hear Eddie let out a satisfied hum when he heard you.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly bring the thick tip of silicone to your entrance. Slowly and carefully, you push it in deep and deeper. Sighing with satisfaction as the toy splits you open just right. Your breathing is already heavy, and you begin to slide the toy in and out of you gently. You can hear Eddie on the other end grunting a little bit as he hears you whine out for him.

Picking up the pace you begin to fuck yourself faster. The squelching sound of your pussy filling Eddie's ears on the receiving end of the phone. He wishes he was there right now fucking you with it instead. Listening to your moans go from low groans and sighs to high-pitched squeals.

He feels bad for getting you worked up every night only to deny you of your release. "Feels good, doesn't it, baby?"

"Feels....feels oh my- good it feels sooo good." You said throw ragged breath.

Your legs are shaking, and the coil in your belly tightens. You're not going to last much longer, and you know he's not going to let you cum either. Biting your lip, you throw your head back, moaning louder and calling out his name. "I bet you've made such a mess on that thing, haven't you?"

"Fuck if I was there I'd have my face buried in between those thighs. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He voice coming out more raspy than he intended.

"Yes...Yes mmmfph yes I'd like that." You whimpered biting down hard on your lip.

Faster and faster you pump the thick piece of silicone in your sore cunt. Hitting that sweet spot Eddie loved so much. Your skin glistening with sweat and hair sticking to your face.

Your voice becomes horse, and your mind foggy. "Eddie please can I cum? I've been a good girl. Please?" You cry out desperately to him. He laughs a little and takes pity on you.

He chuckled, "Yeah baby go on and cum for me."

Bringing your hand down to play with your clit. Rubbing tight circles around your sore bud. Your body jolts, and your body begins to squirm. Fucking yourself with the toy is becoming harder the closer you get. That coil in your tummy gets tighter and tighter. Your legs shut closed tightly, locking the toy in place. Your orgasm washes over your body intensely, and your vision goes black for a moment.

"Baby? Are you okay?" You hear Eddie call out to you.

"Hmm?" You reply weakly.

Moving to grab the phone with shakey hands. You take it off speaker phone and put it up to your ear. You're still trying to catch your breath. Being denied for months has just rewarded you with one of the most intense orgasms you ever had. "I'm okay."

"Good, that's good. " He said with relief.

He looks at the time on his phone and curses. He's gotta be on stage in three minutes. The roar from the crowd gets louder and louder as the count down clock draws nearer.

"Princess, I have go on stage, okay? Why don't you go take a nice long bath and get some sleep. "

'I love you, too, baby." He said, hanging up his phone and throwing his guitar over his back. Heading to the stage with blood pumping all through his body. But the only thing he has on his mind tonight was you.

"Okay, Ed, I love you. "

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #anon #eddie munson fanfic #rockstar!eddiemunson #eddie munson x fem reader #my writing