#Getting his memories back for just one moment

[mostly-imagines]

The noise has everyone startled but none like Jason. It was just specific enough that it resembled a very distinct clang of metal that brought forth a memory that was the wrong kind of surreal. Jason jumps up from his seat, hands flying up in front of him. His breathing is heavy and his body is tense as he braces for pain.

Dick immediately jumps into big brother mode, though knowing he’s never had much success before with Jason. He holds his hands out in front of him on reflex, like he’s ready to restrain a frightened animal.

Jason shoves him out of the way (expected). Jason lumbers over to you and wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your neck (unexpected).

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Your voice has lowered significantly and Dick can barely make out your words. He guesses that was probably the point. He clocks that Jason's breathing is heavy and he’s trying desperately to nudge you out of the room, likely wanting to be out of sight of his brother. You hold him steady though, cupping his face in your hands. Jason's head drops into your shoulder, holding your forearms to keep him anchored. One of your hands wraps around the back of his neck, rubbing soothing patterns against his skin. His chest starts inhaling faster with very little exhale and his grip on you tightens.

“Breathe, Jay.”      

Oh don’t tell him that, he does not like hearing that. The last time Dick tried to comfort him with those words he ended up getting clocked in the face.

“Breathe. In…Out…” he does as instructed, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, repeating as told. It doesn’t take long at all for his breathing to revert back to its normal pace, posture relaxing.

…What?

Dick stands there dumbly, watching his little brother not only allow but embrace blatant affection. For once, he has nothing to say. He’s not even sure he can think right.

There hasn’t been a single moment since Jason returned that Dick had even had the chance to consider him being happy, in love. He’d come back so full of anger and resentment that it was borderline impossible to see through to any of who he used to be. A carefree, jovial kid. He’d hate to say it, but even after Jason came back to life, he thought that kid was still dead and gone. Everyone did, but…this is gentle and delicate. This is a side of Jason that he mourned and made his peace that he’d never see again.

But now Jason picks his head up and kisses your cheek, whispering something before pulling away. You murmur back to him softly, and Dick can only make out the word ‘water’ from his place across the room. Jason nods slowly, reluctantly releasing his hold on your wrists as you head out of the room.

He slumps into an armchair nearby and barely meets Dick’s stare before averting his gaze, muttering something like “Fuck off,” Dick just blinks, thoroughly thrown by the Jekyll-and-Hyde-like change in his brother’s attitude. He opens his mouth, though no noise comes out.

You return promptly, glass of water in hand. You give it to Jason, leaning lightly over the arm of his chair. He downs the water quickly, setting it on the coaster next to him and pulling your full weight onto the chair, holding you close. You look over at Dick, who’s still staring at you like he just saw the Easter Bunny walk into the room and steal a lamp. 

“What?” you ask him curiously, lacking all of the snap that he usually hears with the question from his brothers.

He stammers, “Uh…” Jason looks up at him, glaring. “Nothing.”

You tilt your head at him, silently inquiring about what he’s thinking. Dick ignores your gaze, turning back to his cards that had fallen somewhere in the course of the ado.

You furrow your brow and turn your attention back to Jason, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He lets his head lull to the side and rest against your shoulder.

You move your hand higher up in his hair, “Do you want to eat? Just a banana or something?”

He blinks, eyes heavy, “Yeah, I’ll—” he stops you from standing up again, rising to his feet himself. “I’ll go, it’s alright.”

He exits the room sluggishly and you redirect your gaze over to Dick who’s once again focused intently on the cards. You move over to where he’s sat on the ground, crouching on the opposite side of his pyramid-in-progress. “What was that look for?”

Dick blinks up at you, not sure that it’s in his best interest to answer that question. “Um…just surprised me.” he gets out, “How fast you got Jason to calm down.”

You sit back on your heels. “Oh. I guess so.”

Dick shakes his head quickly, “No, that was honestly like a magic trick. How did you do that?”

You gape at him, “What do you mean?”

“I mean one time he pulled a gun on me when I tried to hug him. More than one time, actually,” He grimaces. “So did you, like…brainwash him or something? It’s okay, I won’t tell him, it clearly worked.”

You laugh, not acknowledging the at least partial sincerity in the question. “He’s just difficult to warm up, you know that.”

“Yeah, yeah, but I could leave him in the toaster oven for ten years and he still wouldn’t warm up to me like that.”

Your smile is accompanied by the raise of an eyebrow, “Well I’m not his brother, so that would be part of it.” You pick up a fallen spade from the floor, setting it atop his scattered pile. “I mean we live together, I’d be pretty ill-suited at my job if I couldn’t at least get him back to baseline by now.”

He squints at you, “You live together?”

You waver awkwardly, “..He said he told you.”

He smiles at that, genuinely, “Anytime Jason says he told anyone in this family anything, he’s lying.”

The call of your name from the doorway has you turning around, smiling. Jason holds his hand out to you and you happily cross the room to take it. The second you’re by his side he picks up the armchair throw pillow with his free hand and chuck it at Dick, successfully knocking him in the face and knocking his half-remade tower to shambles.

[harmonysanreads]

I NEED MORE PUPPY PHAINON, imagine that his beloved was offended by him, and he literally walks on his knees after her, asking for forgiveness, lol

Can be read as a continuation to this piece.

Phainon has become more partial to hating silence in his recent years.

It wasn't always this way though and in certain conditions, he finds himself craving a particular flavor of silence. But in the other, majority of cases, that deafening vacancy of noise reminds him of memories he’d rather forget. To placate that discomfort, he embellishes the void with sound no matter how small, or with his own voice.

Still, the ache is manageable, not voracious enough to make him dramatically restless. Where this faint modicum of control fails as well is when you, in all your cruelty, cast that curse of silence upon him as a direct consequence of anger.

In the name of the Titans, he prays you’d scream at him, hit him couple of times, destroy his house and belongings — anything, anything besides this nonverbal torture he can withstand. But he's not one to dwell in unfair complaints. Especially when your downturn gaze, pressed lips and crossed arms affirm so loudly that he's messed up.

By now, he’s exhausted almost every tactic in his arsenal to get you to acknowledge him again — apologizing, pinching his ears, making funny faces, wrestling a titankin and two whole repeats of that cycle. But you didn't let this opportunity go to waste in showcasing how good you’ve gotten in keeping a blank face in truly tumultuous situations, much to his chagrin in this instance.

It's only when you, most likely fed up with his antics, started to walk away that he scrambled to try again.

“My sun, my moon, my star, my light — please, please please please, look at me? Just once?” you're halted by a tug at your sleeve. A twinge of something softens your resolve as you realize how Phainon remembered, wrestling with his desires to not touch you until he's earned it again.

You can feel the weight of his eyes on your back, you pray that he didn't notice you waver. You steel yourself and stubbornly keep the act steadfast, conflicted before dropping the charade in favor of melting into his arms and forgetting altogether. But you can't, you’ve already promised to wring the confession on the errors of his ways this time.

You glare at the splinters in the earth, “Haven’t I told you once? If you keep calling me things that will never be yours, I might just become the same.” it takes everything to keep your voice even.

You don't need to look to picture Phainon's sure dumbfounded blinks, the churning and turning of metaphorical cogs as they shift in his head, neurons firing and synapses piecing together the implication of your cold comment.

You make the mistake of expecting only a gust of wind and are hit instead with a fully powered storm, in the form of a dull thud that you recognize as the hero’s knees hitting the ground when you're forced to spin as his arms find refuge in clinging to your thighs.

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry — I am so SO sorry. I promise I won't do it again, I swear on the Flame-Chase — no, I swear on Aedes Elysiae that I will never do it again! If I do, may I face a fate worse than death itself. Just… just please, forgive me.”

There's an ache in your heart, sudden, quick and flighty. Kephale's light cradles you both, the corners of Phainon's eyes shine with something. By instinct, you try to escape the painful grasp of the hero, try to. Stumbling a few steps in what you intended would create space, resulting in Phainon getting dragged alongside your movements — sans a care in the Deliverer’s countenance.

“Phainon, I'm going to fall if you don't —” you try to bargain and fall, you do.

One ghost of a touch against the pavement is all you recall, so faint it can be disregarded completely. Your gasp gets muffled in something soft and firm, a mix of the perfume you recognize as yours and something else too convoluted to remember in the heat of the moment canopies your senses.

When the brief storm settles, a sigh slips past your lips. You don't even need to look up to know where you ended up landing.

But an insistent grasp angles your gaze against your wishes upward, you don't offer further resistance as pity grips your heart, “My dearest, beloved, my love, honeycakes with whipped cream on top, my life… won't you show me mercy?”

You calmly maintain Phainon's gaze, searching his face for any trace of dishonesty. The glossy blues of atonement prompts you to be petty one last time, “You don't care much about your life though.”

At this, Phainon completely deflates, collapsing in your arms. “Oh come on! Will you just say yes?”

At the faintest chime of the giggle you fail to quieten, he burrows further in the crook of your neck, arms coiling with a force you're no stranger to by now. Phainon shifts to adjust your position on his lap and changes tactics at the last moment, seizing your momentary lack of guard to launch an aimless attack of kisses.

You can only thank the barren side of Okhema city you two had chosen now, you do not want to think of what you’d have to do to get him off of you had this been a crowded place. The agony that came with the thirty something minutes of deprivation Phainon tolerated is much prominent, a burn lingers around your cheeks and neck. He refrains from completely leaning towards your lips though, still mindful that you haven't yet affirmed in words.

“Okay okay! You're forgiven, good heavens.” you heave, Phainon's exclamation of joy gets lodged in his throat prematurely, “But, you'll be sleeping on the couch today.”

You regret uttering that almost instantly, it's as if every particle of the hero’s life force has been drained mercilessly, appearing as though he might really cry this time.

You avert your eyes, forcing a sigh, “Ah, well, nevermind. You can sleep next to me — but I'll still be keeping a pillow barrier in the middle! Don't forget I'm still… still mad at you.”

As if on cue, Phainon springs back to life once more. Perhaps it's just your enervated eyes, but apparitions of what you can only assume to be puppy ears flick to and fro on top of his head. Caught in a trance, you reach out to ruffle those snow-white tresses and your lover melts.

You know your imposed punishment won’t last for more than ten minutes into the slumber and you’ll be coaxed with these antics again and again. But for this moment, you suppose it won't hurt to allow yourself to indulge and believe, that everything is okay.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Some charges my aunties and uncles carried well into the 90s without pardon or exonneration of any kind:

Substance possession, esp weed, ecstasy, cocaine/crack, meth, etc

Cross-dressing (aka wearing more than the allowed number of "opposite sex clothing items, including undergarments that were not visible)

Solicitacion/suspicion of prostitution (the latter is the charge a trans auntie got for carrying condoms on her to a partner's house, the former charge was both accurate and forced on partners across multiple people in my life)

Vagrancy (got outed during a cruising bust and was evicted/blacklisted from all affordable rentals)

Sexual assault/attempted murder (an HIV + trans adult getting trans panicked)

Public indecency (cruising)

Sexual misconduct in the presence of a minor (had sex in their home while a child was present in the household but not in the room)

This is a non-exhaustive list. Many people I loved who lived queerly through the 1950s-1990s had multiple charges in their past. Few had none.

The goal is to criminalize every path to existence we have, and there is a reason that approach is scary and effective.

It also is absolutely not the all powerful steamrolling force people (on borh sides of the conflict) pretend it is.

I grew up in a thriving community of dykes, faggots, queers, drag queens/kings, intersex folks, and trans people. There were enough of us, even in 1998, to fill a 300 person hall for an AIDS memorial during pesach one year, just in the valley. We lived, we loved, we raised children and families, and we waged a background war for our fucking lives.

It is happening again and for many that will be terrifying. I will not lie to you and tell you not to be afraid or that we will suffer no losses. That 300person hall also had near on 150 empty chairs for the dead that year. But I need people to understand that waging the war only feels scary and overwhelming A) in the beginning when you are not yet sure how to fight, and B) when you are alone, overwhelmed, and feeling helpless in the face of a pressing threat. The rest of the time, you will find that the process of learning effective solidarity and resistance is way faster than you think.

I called my mother on Valentine's day and we talked a bit about what it's like as two queer people across generations, to be back here where we were together in my early childhood, and how my mother feels seeing these conversation return after she got nearly a decade of peace and retirement from activism because she believed it was time to pass the torch. She reminded me of a story she used to tell me when I was little

Mom worked for IBM on some major contracts, and she would sometimes find herself out back with the other engineers for a smoke break. Once, a man started talking about the news updates on AIDS: it was spreading amongst not just IV drug users and queers, but amongst heterosexual middle class folks who had never used or swung or sold or anything. At first the conversation is empathetic to the sick, and mom lets her guard down.

"And then he says "but now it's infecting people who don't deserve it. They called it the Gay Plague back then, you know? And I don't know what happened, but the next thing I remember I'd thrown my cigarette in his face, backed him against a wall, and was snarling "NO ONE has EVER deserved this" and you know. He never said anything like that around me again. I don't know if he changed his mind, but from that moment on, he knew that we were in the room with him, and that was enough to get him to keep his fucking mouth shut. The reason they want us scared is because they want to be able to pretend we're never in the room with them. They want to be able to count on our silence, on our cowering and hiding in self preservation. And I don't blame anyone who gives that because we're surviving here, that's not my place to decide for you. But that was the day I learned that I will NEVER allow them to pretend I'm not in the room again."

Criminalization is a form of liminal expulsion of the undesireable from the shared social perception/narrative. If they can imprison us for our basic existence, they can remove us from the room or make it more likely we hide in the shadows. But this is what we mean when we say that they cannot kill us in any way that matters. Every loss, every death matters, but so does every life lived in silence and shadow. And I cannot emphasize enough how many more of the latter there have been in the world.

So if they want to kill us, we will fill their world with the utopia of the love we find in the dark. If they want to banish us we will live out loud until even they can't escape us. If they want to erase our history, I will personally scream it from every rooftop I have access to.

Liminality is a weapon against us, but it has also always been ours more than it is theirs. We make it, breathe it, and change it with our very being. Never forget that you are the culmination of generations of love, life, and survival. We have seen enough attempts at genocide in the world now to know that the meaning of our lives is not what they make it possible to do to us but what we create to stop them.

If they do start rounding queers up it won’t be with the gestapo, but the police, and the crime won’t be written down as being queer, but public indecency, the indecency being queer in public, but that’s the quiet part no one will say out loud.

[leonastarry]

{ 16 } Troublemaker ✧. ┊    s.jinwoo x fem!reader

Jinwoo never thought he would encounter a day like today.

He had fought countless monsters, faced the strongest avengers, and even stood on the edge of life and death many times. But nothing had prepared him for the current situation:

A four-year-old child, chubby cheeks, messy hair, big, sparkling eyes… was sitting on the sofa in his house.

And that child was you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It all started from an unknown hell gate. While Jinwoo and you were fighting monsters, out of carelessness, an orc shot his magic at you and you were hit. Jinwoo immediately ordered Beru and Igris to go to you, while he went to kill them all.

He quickly turned around and asked Igris about your condition. Igris hesitated. Jinwoo's eyes darkened, but before he could say anything, a childish voice interrupted him.

At Igris' feet, a child poked his head out, wearing loose clothes, looking at him with curious eyes.

"Jinwoo?" You blinked, your childish voice rang out.

Jinwoo was stunned. He couldn't believe his eyes. "Wait… Don't tell me…"

You puffed up in frustration. "Don't laugh at me!"

Jinwoo swallowed back the laughter that was rising in his throat. Taking care of a baby was hard enough, but taking care of you—a super naughty baby version—was definitely worse.

"Dang…"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

After bringing you home, Jinwoo discovered a terrifying truth.

You had too much energy.

Jinwoo quickly realized that babysitting was not easy. You were an extremely mischievous child, and although your memories seemed to be intact, your personality was exactly like that of a real child.

You ran around everywhere, climbing on chairs, rummaging through cabinets, and even trying to get into the refrigerator to find cakes. Jinwoo thought about summoning Beru to help, but then he realized that would only make things… more chaotic.

Jinwoo sighed, rubbing his temples. "Can you sit still for a bit?"

You pouted, placing your hands on your hips. "No! I want to play!"

Jinwoo felt a not-so-light headache.

"Jinwoo oppa! I'm hungry!" You exclaimed, holding your stomach.

He sighed, rummaging through the fridge for something easy for kids to eat. Finally, Jinwoo placed a small cake on the table.

"Here, eat slowly."

But you didn't seem to want to eat slowly. You took a big bite, your eyes shining. "So delicious!"

Jinwoo watched you eat, smiling slightly. In this brief moment, he felt that you were really… cute. But just as he was about to enjoy this quiet—

"Done! I want to play more!"

Jinwoo rubbed his temples.

"Haiz…"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

While Jinwoo was racking his brain trying to figure out how to get you to take a nap, you came up with a new idea.

You looked around the room, your mischievous gaze falling on Jinwoo's three loyal bodyguards: Beru, Igris, and Bellion.

A mischievous smile appeared on your lips.

_____________

Fifteen minutes later.

_____________

"M-My Liege…" Beru’s voice trembled as he looked down at the pale pink princess dress he had just been forced to wear.

Beside him, Igris kept his cool expression, but he couldn’t hide his embarrassment as he wore a pink headband with a giant bow on his head.

The most pitiful one was Bellion—Jinwoo’s most dignified general—wearing a sparkling tutu, holding a small doll in his hand.

Jinwoo almost dropped his teacup when he saw the scene before him.

You—in the form of a four-year-old child—were sitting in the middle of the living room, calling yourself ‘Princess’, and forcing Jinwoo’s three strongest guards to attend the ‘Princess Tea Party’.

"Sit down! The Princess commands!"

Beru, Igris, and Bellion looked at each other helplessly, then reluctantly sat down on the tiny chairs you had arranged.

Jinwoo felt his soul leave his body.

He had seen Beru crush his enemies in battle, Igris confront the strongest enemies, and Bellion lead a mighty army.

But today… they were sitting holding plastic cups of tea, wearing princess dresses, and pretending to drink tea with a four-year-old child.

This scene, he would definitely never forget.

"Jinwoo oppa! You have to join too!" You suddenly called out to him.

Jinwoo immediately shook his head. "No way."

But then you looked at him with sparkling eyes, pouting your lips, and mumbled, "Don't you love me?"

Jinwoo's heart stopped.

He sighed, then reluctantly sat down next to you.

Immediately, you placed a plastic crown on Jinwoo's head, then clapped your hands happily. "You're the Prince now! You have to pour tea for the Princess!"

Jinwoo looked at the pink plastic cup of tea in front of him, then looked at his three pitiful bodyguards.

He never thought he would fall into this situation.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

After almost an hour of pretending to drink tea and talking about 'noble' things like 'who's the most beautiful princess' (you forced everyone to choose you), Jinwoo finally managed to coax you into taking a nap.

Beru, Igris, and Bellion immediately took off their decorations, each with a different expression:

Beru: "I…I feel like my honor has been severely damaged, My Liege!"

Igris: "…I've never been through such a difficult battle before."

Bellion: "…Please forget about this."

Jinwoo laughed.

He looked at you—who was curled up in the blanket, sleeping soundly with an innocent face—and gently patted your head.

Even though today was a bit chaotic, seeing you so happy, he felt…it wasn't so bad.

Anyway, maybe one day, you'll come back as an adult, and he'll tell this story to tease you for the rest of your life.

Jinwoo smiled.

Today was truly a memorable day.

Maybe I wouldn't be able to write in 2 months

[cosmosluckycharms]

Show☆Time

this night has opened my eyes

After a while of you sobbing quietly on the floor of your room, you finally got up and locked in.

First off, you changed out of your performer costume into a more casual outfit.

Your performer costume was soaked from the water, so you hung it up to dry and clean later.

You needed a plan

so you started a plan.

You had lots of ideas planned out. All of which were very elaborate.

Different ways to get them all together to make amends, different ways for them to talk, plans to make everyone apologize and get together to become a troop.

You get out your comically large whiteboard and regular-sized markers and start planning on what to do.

You spend a couple of hours finding ideas, only for you to keep running into problems.

You didn't know what to do.

You were stuck.

You decided to just walk to the park to tell Tsukasa you would have to quit, it was nearby anyway.

Walking out of the manor wasn't hard, they wouldn't notice you walking out. They were away at whatever rich people jobs they had.

You never saw them at night, and you never understood why.

As you made your way to the theme park, you tried to make yourself as small as possible to not get seen by anyone bad.

You tried to calm your nerves by thinking of memories to keep your mind off the whole situation.

You think about how one time when you were younger, around 10 years old, while getting up to get water you saw Nightwing in costume in the kitchen.

You saw as he froze like he was shocked to see you walk in.

You smiled at him and waved, you were half asleep and assumed he was a hallucination.

He waved and smiled back to you and you just walked back to your room.

For a while, you assumed that either Nightwing was coming into the manor to steal something, or he was just visiting.

Either that or you were dreaming.

You assumed you were dreaming.

You smiled at the memory. Nightwing has been one of your favorite vigilantes since you were younger.

You liked how his smile seemed to light up the room.

You liked how his smile reminded you of your older brother, Dick's smile.

You wanted to smile like Nightwing and Dick.

You were close to the park when you saw a red hood on a rooftop.

You saw him watching you, somewhat menacingly.

You get scared for a moment, You've heard stories about the crime lord and the people he's killed.

Sure, they were bad people and you had never done anything bad, but you could never be too sure!

You smiled and waved to him, which caught him slightly by surprise. Usually, people didn't smile and wave at someone they were scared of.

You walked a little faster, you needed to hurry before it was too late at night.

The park closes at 9, and it was now 8:26 pm.

You didn't notice how Red Hood kept watching you.

You didn't notice how he started coming towards you.

As soon as he got within 7 feet behind you, you could sense him.

You spun around dramatically to look at him.

You waved to him, again. "Hii!" You said excitedly, hoping this interaction will take your mind off everything. You realized you did not sound as excited as you usually did, probably from the sadness you felt.

"You look happy," He said walking towards you.

He didn't know why he felt the need to talk to you. He had never even had a conversation with you.

"Not really." You looked down at your feet, slightly sad.

You see him sitting down on a bench nearby and patting the seat next to him.

"Well, what's up?" He asks as you sit down next to him.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your leg shaking from nervousness.

Were you in trouble? Had you done something wrong? Why was he stopping you? Didnt he have people to fight?

"I mean, you look upset," He said, pointing out the obvious.

You started explaining everything to him.

About how you started a group and how it fell apart.

"I don't know what to do. I was just on my way to tell my friend I was gonna quit. It's no use to keep trying." You said while having your head in your hands and trying not to cry.

Jason didn't understand.

You usually weren't like this.

You usually wouldn't quit.

You were the type of person to keep going no matter what.

He's seen you fall down and get up likr it was nothing!

He leaned up against the railing of the bench. "Well, why would you quit?"

"What do you mean?" You asked as you lifted your head from your hands.

"I mean, why quit when you're almost there? All you have to do is go to the park, find them, and tell them to keep going. encourage them like you encouraged others." You watched as he stretched a little.

You thought about it for a minute.

"Plus, wouldn't you want to keep going for your grandfather? he would want you to keep going, right?"

He was right.

You had to keep going.

You had to go ahead and convince Tsukasa to apologize to Nene and Rui.

You had to convince them all to stay together.

You got up from the bench.

"Thank you for everything, Mr. Red Hood!" you waved bye to him and started running towards the theme park.

You checked the time on your phone.

8:47 PM

If you ran fast enough, you could probably make it in time to find Tsukasa and make him apologize!

So you ran.

You ran and ran like there was no tomorrow.

When you finally got to the park, you stopped for a second to try and find Tsukasa.

You find him packing his stuff up on the stage, and he has also already taken off his performer costume.

You grabbed him by the shoulders and practically yelled to him "TSUKASA- WENEEDTOGETTHEGROUPBACKTOGETETHERANDANDAND-!" You talked too fast. You made no sense. You were scared and nervous.

"Y-Y/N! Slow down! I can't understand you!" Tsukasa said, his head feeling like it was spinning.

You took a deep breath and started yelling again, this time you accidentally shook him violently. "WE NEED THE GROUP BACK TOGETHER! We need to create smiles! Us breaking up was a dumb idea!" Your eyes were slightly teary, you were passionate about this.

It took a couple of minutes of you convincing Tsukasa (and apologizing for shaking him and leaving him dizzy) before you guys went to look for Nene and Rui.

When you guys finally found them, the park was about to close for the night. You guys had to hurry.

Nene and Tsukasa apologized to each other, Nene for ruining the show and Tsukasa for yelling at her.

Rui was holding a slight grudge, which makes sense, but you were sad about it.

It took all 3 of you to convince him to come back to the stage and forgive Tsukasa, and it worked!

You all got kicked out of the park for the day because technically you guys were trespassing, so you 3 parted ways and went home.

While walking home, you started thinking about your day.

You liked thinking about it, it made you feel like you were living through it again.

You realized you had never told Mr.Red Hood about your grandpa.

How did he know about that?

oh god rhis was so short sorry

PLEASE why do i keep accidentally neglecting emu reader hi guys

also jasons prolly ooc sorru

taglist:@shirp-collector-of-fixations @maybeethan69 @iluvcatzz @tacendxx @ninihrtss @tsxukikami @d3sperate-enuf @staarflowerr @chaoticmoontimetravel @crazycaoticsimp @sugarrush-blush @kaitense1 @ryuushou

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: You tend to remember the smallest things and dates which are of you and Chan, so you decided to surprise him with a homemade dinner on the date of when you both met for the first time. Except for, you didn't expect Chan to forget it, let alone react the way he did.

Warnings: Couple arguments. Use of strong language, a bit of angst & tears, Smut🔞, unprotected (make-up) sex, intimate, oral (f.receiving), pet names, brief mention of a tummy bulge (so size kink if you squint I guess?). Use of Y/N (but only twice).

Minors do not interact!!!

Note: I think I'm going through a phase rn, somehow I am ADDICTED to writing angst and tears— LMFAOOO @mrs-hwangh what have you done to me???

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count: 5.6k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

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Your soft hums of your favourite song echoed quietly in the living room, smiling to yourself as you fiddled with a silver bow, wrapping a small box that contained a gift you bought for your boyfriend a few days ago.

Today was the day when you both met for the first time four years ago, in the same college, at the same coffee shop where he accidentally bumped into you and spilled his drink all over your notes and you never would have imagined that moment would lead to this.

To love. To Chan.

Your heart swelled at the memory, a fond chuckle escaping your lips. You had planned a simple evening, nothing too extravagant, just the two of you, sharing memories over a homemade dinner and the gift you picked out so lovingly. You knew how busy he was, but today mattered to you. It was the day everything began.

Once you had everything set, you waited for Chan to return home from work, your leg tapping on the floor and fingers playing with the hem of your dress.

Minutes passed to hours and you hadn't received any calls or texts from him, but you waited patiently. Maybe he was caught up at work. Maybe he forgot to check his phone. Still, you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

The sound of the door unlocking cut through your thoughts, and you quickly stood up, smoothing down your dress. Relief and excitement flickered in your chest as Chan walked in, rubbing the back of his neck, looking utterly exhausted.

His bag slumped onto the floor as he kicked off his shoes, barely glancing up at you. Your heart sank ever so slightly but you tried not to let that disappointment settle in.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, stepping forward. “Long day?”

He nodded, letting out a tired sigh. “Yeah. I’m drained.”

You swallowed, suddenly nervous. “I… I made dinner. And I got you something,” you said, gesturing to the neatly wrapped gift on the coffee table.

Chan barely spared it a glance, his brows furrowing slightly. “What’s the occasion?”

Your heart dropped, but you put on a soft smile. You couldn't get mad at him if he forgot it, even though you wished he didn't. That he didn't forget the date or not acknowledge the effort, the way you had been looking forward to this all day.

"You don’t remember?” Your voice came out quieter, trying to mask in a playful tone.

He sighed again, rubbing his forehead, looking as if he'd been asked questions in an interview. "Um no, why don't you tell me?"

The way his voice sounded made you feel like you got slashed with a blade, but you shoved that dramatic thought aside and walked closer to him, biting your lower lip in order to swallow the hard lump that had formed in your throat.

“It’s the day we met.” Your voice wavered slightly, the weight of unspoken emotions pressing down on you but you continued smiling softly. “Four years ago today.”

Chan exhaled, running a hand through his hair, frustration creeping into his features. “Babe, I’ve been swamped with work. I barely know what time it is.”

You blinked, his words stinging more than you expected. “I get that you’re busy, Chan. I really do. But this was important to me.”

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Come on, don’t do this. It’s just a date. It’s not like an anniversary or anything.”

You took a small step back as if he had physically pushed you. You blinked up at him, trying not to let his words form the tears to gush up your eyes.

Your arms wrapped around yourself, hoping that would keep you steady. "I just thought this would mean something to you too."

His brows furrowed deeper, irritation creeping into his voice. "Of course it means something to me. But I don’t have the luxury of remembering every single date when I’m drowning in deadlines."

Your heart clenched, his words cutting deeper than you expected. "So, what, I'm just supposed to understand that I come second to everything else in your life? That it’s okay for you to forget something that mattered so much to me?"

Chan scoffed, shaking his head. "That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. It’s just a date."

"Just a date?" Your voice cracked, a slight tone of anger and heartbreak mixing in your chest. "It’s the day we met, Chan. The day everything started. I planned this for us. I waited for you, and you didn’t even think to text me back? Or check your phone?"

"I was working! I don’t have time to be glued to my phone every second!" His voice was sharper now, making you flinch hard, his frustration spilling over. "I come home exhausted, hoping to relax, and now I have to deal with this?!"

The venom in his voice made you shiver and you hugged yourself tighter. "Chan, please don't shout..."

"No, I mean you always do this. I get it, that you remember small things, but I just want an evening of peace after a long day at work."

Chan had rarely raised his voice, your throat tightened at his words, a dull ache forming in your chest. You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to stay calm even though his tone made you feel like you were drowning.

“I’m not asking you to drop everything for me, Chan,” you said softly, voice trembling. “I just thought—” You swallowed hard, fingers gripping the fabric of your dress. “I thought maybe today would matter to you too.”

His jaw clenched, and he ran a frustrated hand through his curls, exhaling sharply. “Sure you did,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “You always do this, Y/N. You put so much weight on things that I—”

He stopped himself, hesitating, but you already knew where he was going with this.

“That you what?” You challenged, your voice barely above a whisper. “That you don’t care?”

Chan looked at you then, eyes dark with exhaustion and irritation. “That I don’t have the mental space to deal with every single date, every little detail, every expectation you set for me without telling me.”

His words cut deeper and deeper, the sting of them making your eyes well up. You blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall.

“I never asked you to be perfect, Chan,” you whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I never expected you to remember every little thing. But this?” 

You gestured weakly toward the dinner table, the untouched meal, the small, neatly wrapped gift that now felt like a stupid afterthought.

“It's the day we met for the first time, so it just meant as much to me as our anniversary.”

Chan’s lips parted slightly, his brows furrowing, but he said nothing. That silence, that hesitation, hurt more than his words.

Your fingers wrinkled your dress, feeling a chill despite the warmth of the apartment. “You know, I wasn’t even mad that you forgot. I just wanted to spend time with you.”

Chan let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “You think that I don’t want to spend time with you? Do you know how exhausting it is to juggle everything, to be everywhere at once? And now, I come home and instead of just relaxing with you, I’m being guilt-tripped over a date I forgot?”

The sharp sting of his words left you breathless.

Guilt-tripping? That was what he thought this was? Your efforts, your love, your excitement, had all of it been reduced to you being an inconvenience to him?

Your lips parted, your throat constricting as a wave of emotions surged through you. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad, Chan,” you said, your voice wavering. “I just wanted you to remember. I wanted you to want this too.”

His expression flickered, something unreadable flashing across his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a heavy sigh. “I’m tired, okay? I’m so damn tired. I don’t have time to remember every little thing—”

“Every little thing?” you cut him off, your voice suddenly louder, cracking under the weight of your emotions.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. “I didn’t say it wasn’t important, I just—damn it, I forgot, okay? I’m human! I make mistakes!”

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, eyes stinging, heart breaking. “Forgetting is one thing,” you said, voice thick with unshed tears. “But the way you’re acting right now? Like I’m just another problem you have to deal with?”

You let out a shaky breath, your hands clenched at your sides. “That hurts more than you forgetting.”

Chan’s eyes widened slightly, the anger in his expression flickering for a brief moment. But the damage was done. The silence between you was heavy, suffocating, the walls closing in around you.

You shook your head, backing away from him. “I don’t want to do this right now.”

“Y/N…” he started, but you turned away from him.

“No. I get it. You’re tired. You need space. And I’m obviously asking for too much,” you said, your voice hollow. “So I’ll make it easy for you.”

With that, you turned on your heel, took your keys that were sitting on the coffee table and walked toward the door, grabbing your coat. Chan’s eyes darkened, his hand wrapped around your wrist. “Where are you going?”

You untangled yourself off his grip and slipped in your coat, brushing away the tear that slipped down your cheek with the back of your hand.

“Somewhere that doesn’t make me feel like I’m begging for your attention.”

His face fell, and for the first time that evening, you saw a flicker of realization in his eyes—as if he finally understood just how much he had hurt you.

“No, wait, please,” he said, reaching for you, but you pulled away before he could touch you.

You turned away and closed the door behind you, walking away as fast as you could to your car, driving back to your apartment.

Behind the door Chan grabbed fistfuls of his hair, grunting and growling under his breath as he fell on the plush couch.

His eyes caught the small, neatly wrapped gift that was sitting on the coffee table, he hesitated for a second but then opened it, his heart sank like a stone thrown in the ocean when he was what was nestling inside.

His favourite bracelet he lost when we went on a business trip a few months ago. It was the exact same design and brand.

His fingers trembled as he picked up the bracelet, the silver catching the dim glow of the living room light. His throat tightened painfully as he turned it over in his hands, his vision blurring slightly.

And you… you had remembered. You had gone out of your way to find it, to replace something that meant so much to him, because that’s just the kind of person you were.

Chan exhaled sharply, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Fuck,” he whispered, the weight of his words from earlier slamming into him like a truck.

What had he done?

***

The next morning you woke up, exhausted, your vision blurry, nose stuffed and what felt like a dull headache creeping up your forehead. You groaned softly and walked into the bathroom, to find your state in a mess.

Disheveled hair, puffy cheeks with stained mascara, swollen eyes and lips. You had barely stepped inside your apartment before the dam broke, tears spilling freely as you sunk in your bed.

You didn't know at what time you reached home or when you had fallen asleep.

You hated arguing with Chan. 

Sure you had a few disagreements once in a while but they were different. But this kind of argument; where it wasn’t just a misunderstanding, but something way deeper, made you question if you were the only one holding onto the pieces of your relationship while he let them slip through his fingers so easily.

You fixed yourself into the shower, letting the water wash away the fresh set of tears that began to run down your face. After a while you stepped out and changed into a comfortable pair of sweats and grabbed your phone, only to see a dozen calls and texts from Chan.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, heart pounding as you scrolled through the missed calls. Channie <3 (12).

The unread messages blurred together, but you caught glimpses of them as your breath hitched.

Channie <3 [1:12 AM]: Please, baby, pick up. Channie <3 [1:13 AM]: I know you’re mad. I know I fucked up. But please, don’t shut me out. Channie <3 [2:03 AM]: Are you home? Are you safe? Just… let me know you’re okay. That’s all I need right now.

Your fingers trembled as you scrolled further, his messages growing more frantic, more desperate.

Channie <3 [2:45 AM]: I can’t sleep knowing I hurt you like this.

Channie <3 [3:20 AM]: I love you. I love you so much. I don’t deserve you, but please tell me you’re okay.

Your chin wobbled as you closed your eyes and kept your phone face down on the nightstand, not knowing what to respond to him. You weren’t sure if you were ready to face him yet, if you could talk to him and not break all over again.

You walked out of your bedroom, to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee when the front door bell rang. You glanced at the clock hanging on your wall, wondering if you were expecting anyone in the morning, you sighed heavily and walked to the door, only to be greeted by someone that made you feel like you got pulled into the floor.

Outside stood Chan, his face masked with exhaustion and faint hints of dark circles under his eyes and messy hair as if he had been running his hand through it the entire night. He was holding a bag, what looked like it was from your favourite bakery and bouquet of flowers, his gaze locking in with yours, pleading you for a chance and forgiveness.

You attempted to close the door but Chan held it, interrupting you from shutting him out. “Sweetheart…” He started but before he could say anything, you left the door hanging and walked into the living room.

Chan hesitated at the doorway, gripping the bag and flowers tightly as he watched you walk away. He took a shaky breath and stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him.

The quiet of your apartment felt heavier than usual, like an invisible barrier had formed between the two of you. He placed the bag on the kitchen counter, setting the flowers beside it, before slowly following your retreating figure.

You kept your back to him, your arms crossed over your chest as you stood near the window, staring outside as if willing yourself to be anywhere but here.

“Baby…” Chan tried again, his voice softer this time. Apologetic.

You tensed but didn’t turn around.

He took a careful step forward. “Please, just—”

“Don’t,” you said, your voice a whisper, but it carried enough weight to stop him in his tracks.

Chan swallowed hard. He wanted to reach for you, to hold you, to tell you he was sorry in a way that would make up for last night. But the weight of the argument hung so heavily between you both, without sparing a glance at him, you went inside your bedroom.

The soft click of the door shutting behind you echoed louder than it should have, and Chan exhaled shakily, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

He had messed up. Badly.

His gaze flickered to the neatly wrapped pastries and the bouquet he had brought. He had stopped by your favorite bakery the moment they opened, hoping—praying—that it would mean something, that it would show you he was trying to make up for the way he reacted.

But he knew better. A box of pastries and a bouquet of flowers couldn’t, wouldn't erase the way he had hurt you.

With a tired sigh, he sank onto the couch, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor. He didn’t know how much time had passed, only that the silence in the apartment was suffocating.

He glanced toward your closed bedroom door, debating if he should give you more time or if he should go to you now.

But his heart won over his hesitation.

Slowly, he pushed himself up and walked toward your door, his footsteps hesitant but determined. He paused just outside, lifting a hand to knock, but stopped himself at the last second.

Instead, he carefully turned the doorknob and stepped inside.

You were sitting on the bed, your back facing him, silent sobs filling the room. As much as you wanted to hate him for the way he behaved, you simply couldn’t. His presence alone was enough to pull you over, but the heaviness of your emotions made it hard to think. 

Chan’s heart ached at the sight and the sound of your sobs. You heard his footsteps, with a choked voice you said, “Chan, go away.”

He couldn’t go away like that. Not until he tells you how sorry he is and how much he regrets last night. 

“Honey…”

Your shoulders shook harder with each breath, Chan made his way towards you and sat next to you, hesitating for a fraction of a second before his arms wrapped around you and pulled you flush to his chest. You couldn’t react, just stayed frozen in his embrace.

“Baby, my love, I’m so sorry…” He exhaled deeply. “I hate myself for the way I was last night. I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t important to me because, God, baby, you are everything to me.”

“I messed up,” he admitted, his voice thick with regret. “I was stressed, and I let it make me forget what really matters. I forgot us. And that’s not okay.”

You swallowed thickly, your body still stiff in his hold, unsure if you should let yourself sink into his warmth or resist the comfort you so desperately craved. His arms tightened around you, his heartbeat pounding in a frantic rhythm under your ear.

“I should have come home and held you,” Chan murmured, his breath warm against your temple. “I should have kissed you and told you how much I love you instead of making you feel like you were asking for too much.”

Your lips parted in a shaky exhale, the weight of his words pressing against your fragile heart.

“You never ask for too much,” he whispered, his voice raw, filled with self-reproach. “You only ever ask for me,” his throat flexed, “and I failed you.”

A fresh wave of tears spilled from your eyes, but this time, you weren’t alone in your grief. Chan pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, as if he was trying to kiss away the pain he had caused.

He gently turned you in his embrace, urging you to face him, his hands cupping your cheeks as he tilted your face up to his. Your vision was blurry, so you closed your eyes, unsure if you could look at him.

His thumbs brushed away the tears clinging to your skin, his touch featherlight, reverent. “Please look at me, sweetheart.”

And then you did. And what you saw made your breath hitch.

Pure, unfiltered love—wrapped in sorrow, wrapped in desperation. His dark eyes were puffy from lack of sleep, rimmed with exhaustion and regret. His lips were slightly chapped, parted as if he had a thousand apologies to spill but didn’t know where to start. He looked just as broken as you felt.

His mouth brushed on your forehead, lips trembling as he whispered, “There is nothing in this world that matters more to me than you, baby.”

Your chin trembled. “Then why did I feel like I was alone in this?”

Chan inhaled sharply, his expression crumbling. “You’re not,” he said instantly, his voice urgent. “I swear, you’re not. I just—” He exhaled heavily, his fingers trembling as they traced over the curve of your jaw. 

“I shouldn’t have taken out my stress from work on you, when you only wanted to spend time with me on a day that I should have remembered too. I’m really sorry baby. I can’t lose you over this.”

Your gaze dropped to his lips, then back to his eyes, searching, wavering. His words poured out so thick with emotion, unfiltered and raw, it made your chest tighten so hard, it hurt.

“Tell me now,” his fingers brushed away the faint tear stains from your face, “Do you want me to go?”

Your breath and words were stuck in your throat. Part of you wanted to let your pain fester a little longer so he could understand just how much last night had hurt. But the way he was looking at you, so full of remorse, it broke through the wall you had tried to keep up.

Chan was here. And he was trying.

The sincerity of his voice and his presence thawed the ice that built around your heart overnight, you couldn't stay angry at him for another moment longer. Because you knew the love you had for him could overshadow any kind of pain.

Your fingers reached up, hesitant, before threading through his soft curls. He sucked in a breath at the touch, his eyes fluttering shut, his grip on you tightening.

Time was frozen, breaths were stolen and before you could stop yourself, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. “Don't hurt me again…” You chokingly whispered.

“Never sweetheart. I won't ever do that again.” He let out a shaky breath against your neck, his hands running up your back, molding your body to his like he was terrified you’d disappear if he let go.

“Let me make it up to you,” he whispered, his voice so low and vulnerable that it sent a shiver down your spine.

His lips brushed over your cheek first, barely there, as if he was asking for permission. Then he kissed the corner of your mouth, lingering and waiting. “Please.”

And when you didn’t pull away, he finally pressed his lips to yours.

Soft and hesitant.

Not demanding, not rushed, just a quiet plea wrapped in tenderness.

His lips molded against yours like a silent confession, staying there as if he wanted to memorize the way you felt against him.

His hands moved up your sides, thumbs tracing absent patterns over your skin. He wasn’t taking, he was giving, pouring all of his love into every press of his himself, every stroke of his fingertips.

Your body melted into his instinctively, your hands tightening in his hair as you deepened the kiss, letting yourself drown in the warmth of him. 

He made a quiet sound against you, almost like a sigh of relief, as if he had been waiting for this, for you to accept him, to let him back in as he laid you on your back and toyed with the waistband of your pants.

He had barely touched you and you were already on liquid fire. Blood coursed through your veins when he pulled them down, the chilly air making you shiver at the contact of your heated skin. 

“Chan…”  Your voice came out in a breathy whisper, half moan and half command, when his lips danced over the soft skin of your thighs. 

“Hmm?” when he pressed there, you couldn't help but sigh completely. “What is it honey?” He coaxed, the huskiness of his voice that made it hard to think. Did you want him to stop? Or did you want him to go on?

“I…,” He smirked against you as he made his way up, a path that he knew like the back of his hand. He spread your legs apart, the glistening sight before him reawoke a rush of possessiveness in him. 

“I hate fighting with you.” Chan whispered against your flesh, voice raw and aching. 

Your fingers found his hair, tugging him closer as if that alone could answer him. His breath fanned over your core, and his thumbs rubbed soothing circles into your thighs.

“You’re my world,” he admitted, looking up at you, eyes dark but filled with something deeper than lust. “And I want to give you everything. I'm sorry for ruining last night baby.”

The words sent a warmth spiraling through you, melting away the remnants of your argument.

He brushed a kitten kiss right on your swollen clit, and your body responded instantly, arching toward his touch. He took his time, tracing delicate patterns with his tongue, exploring you with a reverence that left you breathless. 

His hands kept you steady, but the way he worshipped you made you feel as if you were floating. You couldn't help but squirm, soft moans spilled from your lips, and when you murmured his name.

This wasn’t about just sex. It was about him making up for every harsh word he said, erasing any distance that had carved its way between you both over the past 12 hours.

His mouth moved over you like he had all the time in the world, savoring every reaction, every soft gasp that spilled from your throat. His hands, rough and calloused, held you with the gentleness of a man afraid to break something precious.

“Cha—nhg,” You whimpers didn't slow him down. It only made him go faster and faster, tongue flicking and licking with an agonizing pressure. 

He groaned against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure coursing through your veins. You attempted to pull his head away from your pulsing core but he wouldn't budge. 

“I'm not done.” He looked up from your pussy, chin and lips swollen and glistening with your arousal. 

He dove back in with a renewed, hungry pace, his nose nudging against your clit, the warmth shooting up to every inch of your body. He couldn't get enough of how you tasted, how you moaned and screamed only for him. If he could, he would stay right were he was forever.

The band in your lower belly knotted tighter and tighter, had you writhing and bucking your hips, it was on the edge of snapping

And then you surrendered to him. Your orgasm left you gasping, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes and only his name escaping your lips, Chan held you firmly as he helped you ride it out. 

He didn't let you go for a second as he sucked and licked your pussy splurting with arousal like he was on the verge of starvation, until he left you boneless but content beneath him.

Slowly, he made his way up your body, removing your top and his mouth hovering your hips, across the plane of your stomach, up the valley between your breasts. Each of it was an apology, a whispered promise against your skin.

“Baby,”—smooch—“fuck you're so sweet when you,”—smooch—“come on my face.” He said between kisses and gentle nipping on your sensitive, peaking buds that rebuilt the anticipation.

Soon enough every piece of clothing was discarded until it was only the fiery sparkles of your sweat misted bodies flying between you both. He shifted, positioning himself between your legs.

The tip of his cock nudged your nub softly before entered you slowly, filling you inch by inch, watching your face for every reaction. You gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Chan let out a shuddering breath, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close as he started to move. His pace was slow, deliberate, each thrust sending a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you, but it was more than that. 

It was a silent conversation, an absolution, a way of reminding each other that no fight, no disagreement, could ever take this away from you.

You pulled him in deeper and deeper, his cock twitched hard inside of you, the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin, sweat and groans soaked the air. 

His eyes fell down to where you both joined, what he saw drove him out of his mind. A soft but visible movement in your tummy. 

“Shi— fuck.”

Your eyes fluttered open when he held your hand and brought it over your tummy where you felt the bulge that was moving in and out of you.

“Feel that?” He pounded into you that made you arch your back, digging your nails into his skin. “D’you feel that baby?” 

You nodded, out of breath, mouth falling open until the cries of pleasure consumed you whole, the feel of the bulge just spurring you on more. 

His hands roamed your body, mapping familiar paths, his lips never straying far from yours. He whispered sweet nothings against your skin, words of love and devotion, apologies and reassurances.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but steady.

You smiled softly for the first time after the long hours, tilting your head to kiss him once more. “I love you too.”

And just like that, the fight was forgotten. Not because it didn’t matter, but because what you had together was always stronger.

“You're squeezing me baby,” his orgasm rushed fast and threatened to take over him, climbing up his spine and snapping his restraints. 

“Chan I'm… I'm going to come,” 

And your release finally crashed over you again, it wasn’t just pleasure—it was catharsis. 

A loud cry tore off your throat as you flooded around his cock, shaking and moaning, Chan followed seconds after slamming into you in one last thrust, burying himself deep with a breathless groan, his body caging over yours.

The post sex high lingered but he didn’t move or pull out. He stayed wrapped around you, pressing lazy kisses to your temple, your shoulder, anywhere he could reach. His fingers traced slow patterns on your skin, grounding you both in the quiet aftermath.

“Do you forgive me?” He asked softly, his fingers brushing away a few strands of hair. 

You smiled cheekily, fingers running through his damp sweat hair, “No,” you said lowly that made his eyes widen in disbelief.

His reaction made a laugh bubble up your throat, you pulled him down onto your mouth letting your tongue slip past his lips and had him melt all over again.

“Yes, I forgive you Chan.” You said pulling back, chest heaving and content. 

He chuckled deeply, hugging you tightly, the lingering amusement from your playful teasing was still evident in the crinkle of his nose. 

Then, with a slow, deliberate exhale, he shifted, reluctantly pulling away from your warmth.

You watched him as he retrieved a washcloth from the bathroom, wiped you clean before he reached for his pants, discarded somewhere on the floor, and retrieved something small from the pocket. 

When he turned back to you, he held a tiny velvet box in his hands.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Chan hesitated, his thumb brushing over the soft fabric of the box as if gathering the courage to speak. Then, with a slow inhale, he flicked it open.

Inside, nestled against the velvet lining, were two delicate rings, a simple silver band with a tiny, shimmering stone embedded at its center. It wasn’t flashy, nor extravagant, but it was beautiful in a way that felt so intimate and personal.

Your eyes flickered from the ring to his face, your heart hammering against your ribcage. “Chan…?”

He let out a quiet chuckle, but you could tell he was nervous. His free hand found yours, fingers lacing together as he held you close.

“I’ve been carrying this around for weeks, waiting for the right moment. And I—” He sighed laughing, shaking his head. “I guess last night was the moment but…”

Chan took a steadying breath, his fingers tracing the edge of the velvet box. “I know I can be a pain in the ass sometimes,” he admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “I push too hard, tease too much. And when we fight, I say things I don’t mean.”

You shook your head, reaching out to cup his cheek. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a brief second before continuing.

“It’s not… a proposal,” he clarified quickly, though his lips curled into that familiar teasing smirk. “Not yet, at least. But it’s a promise.” He squeezed your hand, eyes searching yours with a raw kind of vulnerability. 

“A promise that no matter how much we fight, no matter how many times I mess up… I’ll always choose you. I’ll always come back to you. If you’ll have me.”

Your throat felt tight, emotions swelling so intensely in your chest that you could barely breathe. “Oh Channie,”

His smirk faltered, concern flashing across his face. “Is it too much?” he asked hesitantly. “I know we just—”

You shook your head quickly, cutting him off. “No,” a shaky laugh escaped you . “It’s perfect.”

Relief flooded his features, and for the first time, you saw the nervous tension completely drain from his shoulders.

“Then… will you wear it?” he asked softly, lifting the ring from the box.

“Of course, I will.” You nodded, biting your bottom lip and holding out your hand, he slipped the cool metal onto your finger, the fit perfect, like it was meant to be there all along.

You took the other one from the box and slid it onto his finger with the same reverence, looking up at him through damp lashes.

“This is my promise to you,” you echoed, voice soft but sure. “That even when you’re a pain in the ass sometimes, I’ll still choose you. Every time.”

Chan let out a breathless chuckle, his head tilting slightly as he gazed at you like you hung the stars.

“God, I love you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

You didn’t get the chance to respond before his mouth collided with yours again, slow, deep, and filled with a devotion that made your heart flutter in the best way possible.

And as you fell back on the mattress, tangled in each other yet again, the silver bands glinting under the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the window, you knew; there was no one else for you but him.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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xx,

Ivyy

[ctrlsht]

Beneath His Love | Jungkook Two-Shot AU (Part 1)

pairing: jungkook x reader genre: dark romance, psychological thriller, soft yandere

summary: Jeon Jungkook was once just a foreign high school friend until he disappeared without a word after graduation. Years later, he came back, not just to reconnect, but to claim a place in your life as your lover. To everyone else, your relationship is something out of a fairytale, the kind others envy. And for a while, you believed it too until the mask he wore began to slip, revealing a side of him you never saw coming.

warnings: emotional and psychological manipulation, control and possessiveness, obsession, anxiety and mild distress, isolation and coercion, themes of entrapment wc: 14k

Your high school years hold some of your best memories. You were young, maybe a little naïve, but you enjoyed every moment. You met friends who stuck with you through the ups and downs, creating memories that stayed with you.

Some friendships lasted, while others naturally faded over time. But out of all the people from your past, the last person you expected to return was Jeon Jungkook.

“I really want to drive you home, but I thought you might have your car with you.” He glances at you, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he bites his bottom one.

You catch the gesture, a smile of your own creeping up before you glance back at the office building.

He’s a new investor in the company you’re working for, and the funny thing is, you met him in the meeting, with no heads-up that he was the person you’d be negotiating with.

Back in high school, you would’ve called him a lost puppy; out of place, unsure. He had just moved from South Korea with his family, thrown into a world of unfamiliar faces and an unfamiliar language. He tried, really tried, but somehow, nothing ever quite fit.

He wasn’t a natural at blending in, and the harder he pushed, the more obvious it became that he just didn’t belong.

But you did. You were the one who made him feel like he could stay like he was already part of something. You made sure he never had to face the feeling of being lost alone.

“I might get embarrassed for saying this, but... I don’t have a car.” You say it so casually, you can’t help but bite the inside of your cheek to stifle a laugh. His face lights up almost instantly.

“Well, that’s good news for me, because I can drive you home.” He grins, and you can’t help but to chuckle.

Comparing him now to his high school self? It’s almost unrecognizable. From his new confidence to the way he holds himself, he’s changed. Completely. It’s hard to believe this is the same guy. But then again, you were there at the meeting. 

The one thing that hasn’t changed? The way he feels familiar. Comfortable. Even after all these years apart, that sense of ease with him hasn’t gone anywhere. 

It’s almost laughable to think back on Jungkook who once barely spoke in class, who could barely look anyone in the eye. The same Jungkook who now talks business with the Chief Finance Officer of the country’s biggest infrastructure company; and he’s an investor. An investor. You read the reports. From the looks of it, he’s about to become one of the company’s largest backers. You’re still wrapping your mind around it. What exactly does he do now?

Jungkook left after high school. No warning. No goodbye. Just... gone. You tried searching for him, trying to catch some trace of him online, but even his barely-used social media vanished. After a year of wondering what happened, you eventually gave up. Maybe that was his choice all along.

But you can’t shake the thought: Did you ever really become his friend? Did you make him feel like he belonged, like he had a place? You thought you had, but it’s hard to tell. Maybe it never felt the same to him.

And now, as he stands before you, all those unanswered questions bubble up. So many things you want to ask, but you don’t even know where to begin.

You admit that part of you feels a little hurt, like maybe your friendship meant nothing to him. But that feeling? It’s faded. You were young and confused back then. It doesn’t matter now. You know, deep down, he had his reasons for disappearing. And that’s enough for you.

“It’s good to see you again, Y/N.” He says it casually, but there’s warmth behind the words. You glance at him as he drives, a small smile on his face, his attention fully on the road. You can’t help but notice how much he’s changed. It’s not just his look; it’s everything about him now. The confidence he exudes to the ease in his posture. This isn’t the same Jungkook from high school. He used to shy away from meeting your gaze for more than a few seconds, and now, you can hardly believe he’s the one offering you a ride home. Back in high school, it was you who’d offer to walk him home whenever your other friends couldn’t.

“You too,” you reply, smiling back, still watching him.

He doesn’t speak after that, and you both settle in silence as the car hums along the road. There’s something comforting about the silence. No awkwardness, no tension, just his presence beside you. It feels easy.

After a while, you break the silence. “How have you been?” The words come out before you can second-guess yourself. You didn’t want the quiet to stretch on, and this might be your only chance to check up on him.

“I’m good,” he replies, his tone flat but steady. You expected that. It’s the default answer people give when asked how they’re doing. But you were hoping for something more. Something real.

You don’t push for more. Maybe this is all he’s willing to share. But just as you're about to settle back into your thoughts, his voice breaks through.

“I missed you.”

The words hang in the air. His eyes seem far away, like he’s seeing something just beyond reach. The warmth around him has shifted, and for a moment, the easy atmosphere between you both feels heavier.

“Yeah, me too, Kook,” you say softly, offering a small smile in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I just wish you’d tell me more about how you’ve been.”

The car rolls up to your apartment building, the conversation trailing off as you prepare to get out. You almost feel like you should’ve said more, but before you can even voice your thoughts, he speaks again.

“Do you have anything to do tomorrow evening?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden question. He smirks, amused by your surprise, but before he can say anything else, you cut him off.

“None. Why?” you ask, trying to play it cool, as if you don’t know the answer.

“I was hoping to take you out for dinner, Y/N. It’s been years, and I know I owe you an apology and an explanation.”

You purse your lips, but you fight the smile, pretending to be annoyed. “Good that you know.”

He chuckles, and without another word, he steps out to open the door for you.

The dinner went exactly as planned. It’s Saturday night, and you’re still in disbelief that you’re sitting across from Jungkook after a decade, the same familiar ease between you both. The bond hasn’t shifted; it feels just like it did back then. Can that really be possible?

You never expected that, in a series of random days, you'd reconnect with your long-lost friend and pick up right where you left off, surprisingly comfortable, like no time had passed at all.

To sum up his story, Jungkook left the country a week after graduation due to family matters. He didn’t get into the details, just mentioned family and wealth, and honestly, you didn’t push for more. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was here, now.

“Investing? That’s it?” you asked casually, curious about his line of work as you took a sip of your wine.

“Yeah. Why? You sound like you’re doubting me,” he said, narrowing his eyes playfully as he cut into his steak. You quickly shook your head, laughing.

“No, no— I’m not doubting you. It’s just... how do you just invest in a company? What else do you do?”

His lips twitched as if holding back a laugh before he took a bite of his steak.

“With me, it’s possible.”

It’s amazing how much had changed for him. From his fluent English to how smoothly he communicated, he had a way of speaking now; confident and clear. He knew what to talk about and when to hold back. He even went into detail about his business, explaining how he went from nothing to having it all. Apparently, he’s rich rich.

It still blows your mind. He doesn’t just invest locally, but globally, with major stakes in several countries. One of his biggest investments? A multinational tech company in the USA. You googled his name later, and the results were overwhelming; articles, interviews, and profiles. It hit you then: you had no idea.

“I saw Jungkook recently. He’s freaking rich!” you said during a video call with your high school friends on a random Friday evening.

“Oh my god, you did? I thought you knew, Y/N. He’s always in the business news!” Mina, your entrepreneur friend, exclaimed.

“Yeah, I thought you knew too, since you were close to him,” Chloe added as she applied her makeup.

“I would’ve known if you told me,” you said, sarcastically. They all laughed, including Henry, the only guy in your friend group.

They all knew Jungkook, but they were never really close to him. But you try to get them to hang out with him. It was hard, though. He never seemed to fit in with anyone else. He wasn’t exactly open to making friends outside of you.

You didn’t mind being his only friend, but there were times you wished you could hang out with your whole circle without worrying about leaving him alone. You can’t stomach seeing him being alone.

Your first dinner with him turned into another, and then another, until it reached a point where you were seeing him almost every day. Well, it makes sense. He has back-to-back meetings with the CEO and CFO, all to discuss investment deals and company performance. You were shocked when you found out he’d become one of the company’s major shareholders. But, honestly, you shouldn’t have been surprised. With his global investments, your company was just one of many he had stakes in.

You’ve sat through countless meetings with him, being the Investor Relations Analyst, but what truly catches you off guard is how he shifts between playful and serious. Outside the boardroom, he’s relaxed and fun, but the moment he steps into the business world, he’s a different beast; focused, no-nonsense, and damn good at what he does.

“I still can’t believe how different you are in the boardroom. Your 17-year-old self must be so proud,” you joked one time when he invited you over for dinner at his place. You had to add, his “place” wasn’t just any apartment. It was a goddamn penthouse, bigger than your office floor.

His penthouse is airy, with massive windows letting in all the natural light and giving a breathtaking view of the city below. The furniture is minimal; soft neutrals, a simple sofa, a coffee table, and a few essentials. But none of that matters because you can’t wrap your head around how massive his place is.

It’s your third time visiting, and you still haven’t gotten used to how much wealth he’s surrounded by. Back in high school, you knew he had a solid life, but this, this level of luxury? You never imagined it. Sure, his family’s wealth played a part, but it was his own hustle that built the wealth he’s sitting on now. He mentioned once that part of the reason he went back to Korea was for his family’s business, but he didn’t go into detail.

“You really can’t stop talking about how different I am now, can you?” he teased as he smiled, removing his coat and loosening his tie. Both of you came straight from the meeting, and here you were again, in his penthouse. You shook your head, unable to stop smiling. 

“You’ve definitely changed,” you shrugged playfully as he walked to the kitchen island to prep dinner. 

“I plan to cook kimchi stew. You mentioned that you want me to cook it again.” he said, pulling out the ingredients one by one.

“Ah, you remembered,” you smiled, feeling a bit giddy. “Do you need help?”

He flashed that smile of his, shaking his head. “Nah. You relax. Dinner’s on me.”

“I really do want to help, though,” you said, walking over to him. “You always cook for us.”

He stared at you for a moment, a soft smile tugging at his lips, before nodding and grabbing the tofu and green onions.

“Alright, fine,” he chuckled. “You can slice these.” He placed them on the counter, then grabbed an apron and slowly slipped it over your head.

Your heart started to race, feeling the warmth of his hands as they adjusted the straps around your back. You barely breathed as he tied the apron, feeling like an electric current shot through you when his hand grazed your skin.

“While you do that, I’ll prepare the kimchi,” he said, turning around with a grin before walking to the fridge.

With his back to you, as he chopped the kimchi, you were frozen. You could feel your heart hammering, and your stomach doing flips, but you couldn’t move an inch. What the hell was happening to you?

There’s this strange flutter in your stomach, something you can’t quite put into words. You don’t move, not until he finally glances back at you. You flash a quick, awkward smile, trying to shake off the odd tension before turning your focus to the tofu, hoping it’ll distract you from the feeling you can't shake.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Henry’s birthday party was in full swing at one of the biggest clubs in the city. Nothing new there. Clubbing was pretty much a tradition whenever you and your friends had extra cash to burn. The last time you went was a work event, which sucked because most of your coworkers were too old to actually enjoy the club. Tonight, though? Different story. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and you were exactly where you wanted to be; wrapped around Chloe’s shoulder, screaming lyrics at the top of your lungs.

Feeling a bit worn out, you drop into a seat, chugging your drink while mindlessly scrolling through your phone. Three messages from Jungkook. One missed call.

Jungkook: Wanna have dinner tonight? We can do it at your place since you’re fussing about me not visiting your place hahaha

Jungkook: Heyyy?

Jungkook: Oh, I didn’t know you were with your friends. Sorry to bother you.

Shit. You checked the timestamps, first message at 7 PM, second at 9 PM, and the last one just fifteen minutes ago. The missed call? Right after the second text.

How did he even know you were out? You clicked on your Instagram story. Viewed. Of course.

You quickly typed out a response, apologizing for not replying sooner.

Jungkook: No worries, Y/N 🙂

That’s when it hit you, almost everyone from high school was here, even the ones who barely talked to Henry. But Jungkook wasn’t. You scanned the crowd before glancing back at your phone, staring at his last message.

Should you feel bad? Maybe. He used to hang out with your group sometimes, but Henry was the one throwing the party. You couldn’t exactly tell him who to invite. Still, a small part of you felt guilty. Jungkook had been a part of your high school life, and it felt weird that he wasn’t here too.

“Y/N, what’s up with you? You’re spacing out,” Mina suddenly appeared beside you.

“Nothing,” you said, forcing a smile.

She peeked at your phone. “Who are you texting?”

“No one, just reading a message from Jungkook,” you answered, locking your screen. “By the way, did Henry invite everyone from high school?”

Mina shrugged. “I guess?” 

“Did he invite Jungkook?”

“I doubt it.”

“Why?”

Mina chimed in, laughing. “Girl, he’s a fucking millionaire. You really think he has time for this?”

Your jaw tightened. “You guys used to hang out with him at least once.”

She raised a brow. “Then ask Henry, not me.” She patted your back before disappearing into the crowd.

You sighed, staring at Jungkook’s last message. Maybe Mina was right. He probably didn’t care about not being invited. He had more important things to do than go clubbing with his former high school classmates. But another part of you wasn’t so sure.

Your phone buzzed again.

Jungkook: You must be having fun, leaving me on read hahaha

Oh, fuck.

You: Hahaha I’m sorry. I’m trying to sober up. What are you doing

Jungkook: You’re drunk already? Who are you going home with?

You: I’m good haha I’m going home with my friends. Let’s have dinner tomorrow.

Jungkook: How are you going home with them if they’re also drunk?

You weren’t drunk, just tipsy. But if Jungkook thought you were drunk, then maybe you’d actually get drunk trying to prove otherwise.

Jungkook: Do you want me to fetch you?

You: It’s okay, Kook. I can manage. My friends aren’t drunk. We’re fine.

No reply. You reread your messages, sipping your whiskey, assuming he’d drop it. But then—

Jungkook: I’ll go there and wait until you’re done so I can drive you home.

Your stomach did a weird flip. You don’t know what or how to feel. There are a lot of thoughts that are running in your head and you don’t know what to entertain first.

It had been almost a year since you started hanging out again, and you weren’t going to lie, you liked the way he looked after you. How he always checked in, insisted on driving you so you wouldn’t have to take the bus, how he cooked for you without you even asking. Hell, you’d eat anything he made, even dishes you normally hated. There was something about his effort, his presence, that made your heart race just a little.

And now, he was coming to pick you up.

But then there was the other part, the part where he’d be stepping into a club full of his old high school classmates who didn’t even think to invite him. It didn’t sit right with you. If he came here, would it remind him of how things used to be? Would it make him feel out of place?

There was no way in hell you were going to make him wait around for you to finish partying in a place he should’ve been invited to in the first place.

You took a deep breath and texted back:

You: Okay.

Then you locked your phone, downed the rest of your drink, and got up to rejoin your friends. Might as well enjoy the last few moments before Jungkook arrived.

“I have to go soon, Henry,” you lied. “Charlie’s home. He might wake up looking for me.” You added, using your nephew as an excuse. 

Henry frowned. “You never said you were babysitting tonight. That sucks. I’ll grab my keys and—”

You cut him off. “No need. Jungkook’s driving me home.”

Henry stopped, then smirked. “Wow. Are you dating him already? You should’ve invited him.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the birthday boy. That was your job, not mine.”

The moment your friends heard you were leaving, they wasted no time plotting your downfall. Before you could even argue, Henry was in front of you, bottle in hand, while Chloe grabbed your head like a coach hyping up their star player, and Mina? She was already recording.

"One last shot! Well, bottle, for the road!" Henry announced, grinning like a devil.

You groaned, but resistance was pointless. The moment the bottle tilted, the cheers erupted around you. The burn hit instantly, but damn, it felt good. Who knew last-minute drinking could be this satisfying?

It only took Jungkook 15 minutes to get there. As soon as he texted that he’d arrived, you wasted no time saying your goodbyes. You didn’t really want to leave yet, but making him wait for the party to end at 6 a.m. wasn’t an option. It was barely 1 a.m., and the night was just getting started, but you weren’t about to let him stand around outside just for your sake.

Stepping out of the club, the pounding bass faded behind you, but the street was still alive with music, neon lights, and crowds spilling out of bars. It was a Saturday night, prime time for people to party, and leaving early kind of sucked.

You hadn’t even replied to Jungkook’s last message, but it wasn’t hard to spot him. He was leaning against his car, parked right in front of the club, eyes glued to his phone. Just as you were about to call out to him, your phone buzzed. His name lit up the screen.

The moment he heard the ringtone, he looked up, and when his eyes landed on you, his whole face lit up, his smile stretching wide. You laughed, shaking your head. This man.

“Did you miss me that much?” you teased, walking over.

“You weren’t answering my texts,” he shot back, grinning as he slipped his phone into his back pocket.

“I figured I’d just answer you in person,” you said with a chuckle, opening the passenger door. “Let’s go?”

“Wait, you’re actually done for the night?” he asked, surprised.

“Yeah. I sobered up, and I’m not really in the mood to drink anymore, so I might as well head home,” you shrugged before sliding into the car.

“You sure? Henry might be pissed you’re leaving early,” he said, settling into the driver’s seat.

“Nah, trust me, he won’t,” you laughed, clicking your seatbelt.

Jungkook reached behind his seat and pulled out a bottle of water, twisting off the cap before handing it to you.

“Here. Drink some water. Stay hydrated.” He gave you a small smile, and for some reason, it completely threw you off. You should take the water, but your body wouldn’t budge. Your fingers twitched, and your mind screamed at you to move, but all you could do was stare, caught in the moment, caught in him.

And before you could think twice, you leaned in.

His lips met yours, warm and soft, and everything else faded. A little water spilled from the bottle onto your thigh, but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was the way he felt against you, the way your heart pounded like a drum in your chest.

Your head swayed slightly, the tequila still messing with your balance, but you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or just the way his lips tasted.

Then it hit you.

Your eyes snapped open, and you jerked back, hand flying to your mouth.

“Shit—sorry—”

Before you even finished your sentence, he pulled you towards him, pressing his lips on yours. He pulled you so close, his hand wrapped around your nape, gently holding you in place, and you melted into the kiss, closing your eyes.

His lips moved against yours hungrily, and the realization sent a shiver down your spine. Your fingers found their way to his hair, gripping it lightly. 

Jungkook broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he leaned his forehead against yours. His fingers found the back of your head, his touch so gentle that it sent shivers down your spine.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he murmured, as you shook your head. 

“I should be the one saying sorry.” You chuckled a little. He smiled, rubbing your cheek gently with his thumb. 

He leaned in, his lips grazing yours before he claimed your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. It was different from the previous ones, more controlled yet passionate. His free hand moved to cup your face, his fingers tracing small circles on your cheek, and you felt your body melt into his touch.

Everything blurred together in a rush, you were in the car, and the next, the city lights flickered past as Jungkook drove in silence. It wasn’t until he pulled into a familiar parking garage that reality sank in.

You were supposed to be heading home, but instead, you found yourself in front of his apartment building. 

Maybe his place was closer to the club. It made sense.

Jungkook parked the car in the underground parking lot of his apartment building, the engine purring to a stop. You were both panting heavily, the atmosphere inside the car was filled with tension. He turned to look at you, his gaze intense and darkened with desire.

"We should go upstairs." He said softly.

As soon as the door slams shut behind them, Jungkook pulls you close, his hands gripping your hips tightly. Your bodies are pressed up against each other, and the heat between you is intense.

He kisses you hungrily, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he backs you up against the wall. Your fingers clutch at his shirt, removing the fabric in your grip as you try to bring him even closer.

Then he breaks the kiss, his breathing heavy as he leans his forehead against yours.

He took a deep breath, his fingers still gripping your hips tightly. His eyes roamed your face, taking in every detail, and his gaze fixed on your eyes.

“I like you, Y/N. Even before.” He said, almost sounding like a whisper, but it sounded so clear. 

With a swift motion, he lifted you, wrapping your legs around his waist. You were surprised at the sudden movement, but he held you tightly. He carried you towards the living room, his lips finding your neck as he continued to press hot kisses on your skin.

His apartment windows stretched across the room, but the city lights outside barely reached in, leaving most of the space cloaked in shadow.

He gently placed you on the couch, his body lingers above yours, arms locking you in.

His lips found yours again, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he couldn't get enough of you. His body pressed against yours, leaving no space between you, and you could feel the heat radiating from him.

Your fingers gripped his biceps, your nails biting into his flesh as you tried to hold back the sounds threatening to escape your lips. His mouth continued to explore your neck, his kisses and gentle bites sending waves of pleasure through you.

Jungkook quickly removed your dress before pushing you back onto the couch and capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Your hands roamed freely along each other's bodies, as he trailed kisses down your neck.

You couldn’t quite piece together the exact steps you took to end up here, but damn, you weren’t complaining. Everything felt perfect, from the way he touched you to the way he spoke to you. And even as your mind wandered, wondering if you'd regret any of it later, you shoved that thought aside. For now, you were savoring every single moment.

You woke up to sunlight streaming through the window, too bright, almost blinding. You blinked a few times, trying to shake off the haze of sleep, only to realize that this wasn’t your room. You didn’t need to check to know exactly where you were. The familiar warmth beside you told you everything you needed to know.

Your gaze lingered on him. Jungkook, still asleep, lying on his stomach. Both of you were tangled under a duvet, skin against skin, the night’s events replaying in your mind. It had been unexpected, but you weren’t regretting it. Not one bit. Out of all the men in your life, he was the one who’d made you feel truly at ease during the most intimate moment.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what he said last night. His words still echoed in your ears.

“I like you, Y/N.”

You reached out, gently brushing his hair, feeling the smooth strands between your fingers. You couldn’t help but feel a little foolish for not noticing how he’d felt before, but now, it didn’t matter. You weren’t going to waste time overanalyzing his feelings.

But damn, if you had known sooner...

You couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. Would you have really done things differently? Probably not. Maybe back in high school, there was nothing there. But now? With how ridiculously handsome and damn near perfect he looked? Hell, you couldn’t deny it.

Life is simple, and so is your relationship with Jungkook.

After that night, there was no overthinking, no awkward tension. You both just went with it. Dating him felt natural, almost effortless. And let’s be real, you weren’t about to let him fuck you if it wasn’t going to lead somewhere.

It still blows your mind how much things have changed in just a year. You reconnected with an old high school friend, found out he’s stupidly rich, and now? You’re dating him. 

You thought dating Jungkook wouldn’t feel much different from being his friend, but damn, you were wrong. In the best way possible.

Every morning, without fail, he texts you a sweet “good morning,” even when he’s miles away on a business trip. He brings you little gifts just because, takes you out on weekly dates, and surprises you with flowers for no reason at all. Even when he’s drowning in work, he always makes time for you, whether it’s at his place or yours. And most especially, he really knows how to make you feel good. He already knows what you love to do and what’s not. He knows when to stop and when to go on. Sometimes, he feels so perfect that you catch yourself wondering if he’s even real.

One morning, after spending the night at his place (which, at this point, is almost every night), you wake up to the soft press of his lips against your skin.

“Morning, love,” he murmurs, fingertips brushing your cheek.

You mumble a sleepy, “Morning.”

“I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He peppers kisses along your face, neck, and arms.

You groan a little, still half-asleep, but you knew this was coming. He’s heading to a business conference out of town, just for the day, but it still sucks that he’s leaving on your day off. You had already planned to head back to your own place anyway, clean up, and maybe just exist in your own space for a while.

“Mm-kay,” you mumble, trying to bury yourself back into the sheets. But Jungkook, being Jungkook, doesn’t stop kissing you, making it impossible to stay asleep. You finally cracked an eye open, shooting him an annoyed look, and making him laugh.

“You should wake up now. I made you breakfast. Eat before it gets cold,” he says, dropping a kiss on your forehead before heading toward the door. “Bye, love. I love you.”

Still groggy, you nod. “I love you too. Take care.”

Once he’s gone, you follow through with your plan, breakfast, then heading home.

The second you step inside your apartment, it’s painfully obvious you haven’t been around much. It smells like it’s been abandoned, and the state of it isn’t much better—clothes piled on your bed, untouched documents scattered across the dining table. A mess, but a familiar one.

As much as you love staying with Jungkook, there’s something comforting about being in your own space. No one to answer to, no one to accommodate, just you, doing whatever the hell you want. Jungkook has asked you to move in with him more times than you can count, but you always say no. Not because you don’t love being with him, but because you love having a place that’s yours. A space to retreat to when you just need to be alone.

The only thing you hadn’t planned for today was your friends ambushing you with an invite to go out tonight.

Your friend group never really schedules hangouts; it just sort of happens. You could go weeks, even a month, without a single message, and then, out of nowhere, someone’s in the mood for a drink or dinner, and suddenly, it’s a plan. Not everyone always makes it, of course. Life gets in the way. But when the stars align and most of you are free, you all try your best to show up.

"Come on, Y/N," Mina whined through the phone. "The last time we saw you was four months ago. And don’t even try to make excuses, you literally just said you’re at home."

You groaned, throwing yourself onto the couch. "Mina, I just spent all day cleaning. I’m exhausted."

"Then we’ll just invite ourselves over!" She laughed, knowing exactly how to push your buttons.

"What the hell, no! I’m not letting you guys trash my place after I spent the whole day making it spotless!"

"Then get dressed and come out with us!" she shot back. "Dinner and drinks. We miss you."

She wasn’t wrong. You missed them too. You’d skipped out on a lot of meet-ups lately—not intentionally, but between work and, well, spending nearly all your free time with Jungkook, your social life had definitely taken a hit. The only time you weren’t with him was when you were at the office.

So, after some back and forth, you gave in. You sent Jungkook a quick text letting him know you were heading out with your friends, though he hadn’t responded yet. He was probably still busy with his conference.

Now, almost 9 p.m., you were sitting in a pub downtown, catching up with your friends over drinks. The place was buzzing with weekend energy, and despite the last-minute plans, it felt good to be here.

“Even though I try to convince myself that we still have something left, I just don’t feel it anymore,” Chloe admitted, swirling her drink in her hand. The conversation had taken a turn toward her struggling relationship. Everyone listened intently.

“We’ve both gotten so caught up in our own responsibilities that we barely connect anymore," she continued, her voice even, like she had already made peace with it.

You studied her face, searching for some sign of heartbreak, but she just looked… tired. Maybe even indifferent.

Chloe was a fashion model, and her boyfriend was a marine engineer. Their lives had been moving in different directions for a while now. The long distance, the fading feelings, it had all been dragging on for too long.

“If you’re not happy, why stay?” Mina asked, echoing what everyone was probably thinking. "This has been going on for two years, Chloe. Maybe it’s time to let go. We’re not getting any younger."

The weight of the conversation made you pause.

It got you thinking about Jungkook. About your relationship.

You’d been with him for half a year now, and honestly, things had been good. No major problems, no doubts. Just happiness. Just him.

But how long would it stay that way?

What would your problems even be? What could you possibly fight about? Could your love for him fade the way Chloe’s did for her boyfriend?

The thought unsettled you.

Before you could get lost in it, your phone rang. The table fell silent as everyone glanced at you. You quickly grabbed it, checking the caller ID.

Jungkook.

You excused yourself and stepped outside, pressing the phone to your ear.

"Hey, Kook," you greeted softly, staring down at your feet.

“You’re out?” His voice was calm, but there was something off about it.

"I sent you a message," you said, glancing through the pub’s window at your friends. "I’m with my friends."

“I’m at your place.”

Your breath hitched. "I thought you were coming home tomorrow?"

"The conference ended at seven. I decided to drive back instead of staying overnight." His tone was flat, unreadable.

“Oh.” You fidgeted with the hem of your top.

“I came straight to your apartment, thinking you’d be there,” he added. “But you weren’t.”

You hesitated. "Mina invited us out. It was last minute, but everyone was free, so…"

"I didn’t see your message until I got here."

You weren’t sure where this was going, but before you could say anything, he spoke again.

"Are you heading home soon?" His voice was calm, but you could sense the impatience laced within it.

"I'm… not sure," you admitted, just as Henry stepped outside, lighting a cigarette. 

"Who are you talking to?" Henry asked casually.

"Jungkook," you said, turning your back to him. “I think we’ll end at ten or eleven. Depends on their mood.” You added to Jungkook.

Henry took a drag of his cigarette, chuckling. "Chloe wants to go clubbing after this. We’ll probably be out past eleven."

You shot him an annoyed look. "Move away. I don’t want to inhale your cigarette."

He just laughed, stepping back into the pub.

"I'm not sure what time this will end," you told Jungkook. "If you want, you can rest in my room. I just cleaned everything." You tried to lighten the mood, but he sighed on the other end.

“Y/N, it’s late. You should rest. You’ve had a long day.”

His voice was gentle, but something about it felt off.

"I’ll be home before eleven," you promised. "You should rest too."

“I’ll just pick you up.”

You blinked. "No, it’s fine. Henry said he’d drive me home."

Silence. Then—

“Really?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

You frowned. "What?"

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t sit right with me. The idea of you letting another man drive you home while your boyfriend is literally waiting at your place.”

You sighed, frustration creeping in. "Jungkook, it’s Henry. You know him."

"Okay then," he said, the edge in his voice sharp enough to cut. "I’ll just rest. Bye."

And then he hung up.

You stared at your phone, stunned.

The hell was that?

Jungkook was never the jealous type. He knew Henry. He knew there was nothing between you two. So why was he suddenly acting like this?

Maybe he was just exhausted. After all, he’d driven almost four hours straight after a long business trip.

Still, something about that call left you uneasy.

As soon as you stepped back inside, you grabbed your things and announced, “Jungkook’s at my place. He’s looking for me.”

Your friends exchanged glances, and their curiosity arose.

Mina gently grabbed your wrist, stopping you mid-motion. “Then let him wait. I thought he was out of town for business?”

“He went home right after,” you replied.

Henry took a slow sip of his beer before butting in. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re running off.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes. “Did you two fight?”

You shook your head a little too quickly. “I just really need to go.”

Mina arched a brow, arms crossed. “So, you’re just leaving? Again? You did the same thing last time when you said you were coming over, but surprise, Jungkook had plans, and we never saw you.” 

You flinched at her words because, well… she wasn’t wrong. You had bailed on them before, not intentionally, but it still happened.

“I know, and I apologized,” you said, voice softer now.

Mina scoffed. “Right, and now you’re ditching us again?” 

You hesitated. A part of you wanted to stay, but what was the point if your mind was already elsewhere? Jungkook was at your place, waiting. And the way he sounded earlier… something felt off. You wouldn’t be able to enjoy yourself knowing that.

“I’m sorry. I swear I’ll make it up to you,” you said, rushing to press a quick kiss on their cheeks before grabbing your things.

Henry even offered to drive you home, but you shut that down immediately. No way in hell were you making things worse.

You tried calling Jungkook and then texting, but he didn’t answer. Not even once.

Did he stay? Did he leave? Was he sleeping or ignoring you on purpose?

You had no idea. All you knew was that you needed to get home. Fast.

The moment you step inside your apartment, you don’t need any grand gestures to tell you Jungkook is here. His shoes are neatly tucked in the corner and his coat draped over the couch’s hand rest.

You opened the lights, scanning the room, but you already know where he is. Your bedroom door is closed, and something in the air tells you he’s behind it.

For a moment, you hesitate. Then, without overthinking, you twist the doorknob and step inside.

There he is.

Stretched out on your bed, sound asleep. The bed that fits you just right somehow looks too small with him in it, his presence making the room feel both full and impossibly small. A soft glow from your bedside lamp casts delicate shadows across his face, highlighting his perfect features.

You step closer and notice he’s already changed into the clothes he keeps here, a reminder of how often your space has become his, too. Whenever you choose to stay here, he chooses to stay with you.

You can feel the shift in the air before he even stirs. After watching him sleep for a few quiet moments, he moves, his eyes fluttering open and landing on you almost instantly.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" you ask softly.

He sits up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before shaking his head. "You’re back? I thought you were staying out longer." His voice is low and laced with sleep, but as he stands to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, you search his expression for any lingering annoyance. He seems calm now, so maybe whatever tension was there before has faded.

"You wanted me to come home, right?" You meet his gaze, trying to read him.

"Yeah, but if you really wanted to stay out, you didn’t have to leave early," he replies easily.

"But you wanted me home," you counter, brows slightly furrowed.

"I did. But I didn’t force you, did I? I told you I’d rest, and I did." His tone is matter-of-fact, like the answer is obvious.

"Then why did you sound so irritated? You didn’t force me, sure, but you acted like you were pissed." You pull back, doing your best to keep your voice steady.

"I'm not irritated. I'm just worried that you were out late and I wasn’t around. That’s it."

And now, his tone says otherwise.

You just stare at him, at the way his frustration lingers in the air, thick and heavy. The whole situation is fucked, and you don’t even know how to respond.

You want to be mad, but you can’t figure out if you even have a reason to be. You want to walk out, slam the door behind you, let him deal with whatever this is on his own. But you don’t move.

You just stand there. Watching. Waiting.

After a moment, he lets out a breath, his shoulders easing. When he meets your eyes again, the tension between you starts to fade.

Without another word, he steps forward, closing the space between you. His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you in as his warmth.

His lips find your neck, brushing against it before pressing soft kisses along your skin, his grip tightens around you.

"Look, I’m sorry, Y/N," he murmurs against your skin. "I’m just tired. And when I got home, all I wanted was to see you, but you weren’t here."

Another kiss. Then another. 

That night was filled with quiet embraces and soft kisses. You let him hold you until sleep takes over, as if the tension from earlier had never existed.

A lingering thought sits at the back of your mind, something unspoken, but you push it aside, choosing to sleep it away.

By the next day, everything falls back into place. No more arguments, no tension, just the usual life of being with him in his space. You had worried that the disagreement might leave a crack, but just like you, he let it go.

You find yourself falling for him even more. Not just for the way he listens, but for how he truly understands you. For the way he always makes sure you're okay, making life with him feel effortless.

Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and with every passing moment, your love for him only deepens. It still feels surreal, to have someone like Jungkook; a man who loves you in all the right ways. A man so close to perfect, you struggle to find a single flaw. It sounds almost too good to be true, yet here you are, living it.

But perfection is an illusion. No one is truly flawless. Sometimes, love makes you see only what you want to see, painting over imperfections with rose-colored strokes. Maybe it’s because you love him so much that you’ve convinced yourself he’s perfect. Maybe, without realizing it, you’ve chosen not to notice the flaws.

You take a deep breath, eyes lingering on Chloe’s Instagram story. A picture of her, Mina, and Henry on the hiking trip you had all planned together. A trip you were supposed to be on. It had been set in since last year, but in the end, you stayed behind. Because Jungkook didn’t want you to go.

As much as you hate to admit it, it frustrates you. He had brushed it off as concern, calling it too dangerous, even though the trail was a well-known tourist spot with guides and safety measures in place. You hadn’t even asked for his permission, just informed him of your plans, but he shut it down anyway. And that sucked.

But you didn’t push. The moment you sensed his growing irritation, you backed off, not wanting to turn it into something bigger.

“It’s okay, love. We’ll plan a hiking trip together. I just don’t want you going without me, I’d go insane worrying about you,” Is the only thing he says before he showers you with kisses.

To be fair, he did follow through. A week after your friends went, he took you on your own hiking trip, just the two of you. It wasn’t the same trail, but the effort was there, and you genuinely appreciated it. Still, no matter how much you tried to shake it, a part of you couldn’t ignore the longing in your chest, the part that wished you had gone with them.

It was a Tuesday afternoon in the thick of summer when your phone buzzed with a call from your father. He was asking you to come home for his birthday dinner. Of course, you hadn’t forgotten his special day, but the invitation itself was unexpected.

Your dad never really made a big deal out of his birthday. It was usually just him, your mom, and sometimes the kids—your sister's son and daughter. Sure, you’d been home to celebrate milestone birthdays like his 50th and 55th, but now he was only turning 57, and you were curious why he suddenly wanted you home for dinner.

The train ride would take two hours, but that wasn’t the issue. It was the thought of telling Jungkook. You hadn’t introduced him to your family yet, despite dating for a whole year. You wanted to, of course, but this was not the right time now that Jungkook was out of the country for business.

You really wanted to visit your dad for his birthday, but you weren’t sure if Jungkook would let you. 

Yeah, it sounds kind of messed up, but he’s been getting stricter about where you go, especially if it’s somewhere he’s not with you. They might suggest, "Why not just invite him?" But, of course, he’s out of the country right now, so that’s not even an option.

You thought about not telling him at all, but you knew you’d feel guilty. And if you were being honest, he’d find out eventually, somehow. He always did.

So, you decided to bite the bullet and just let him know you were heading home to celebrate with your dad. You sent a quick message, figuring it was easier than calling, especially since he was probably busy. Plus, you honestly didn’t want to deal with his reaction over the phone.

But, of course, he called you right after the message was sent.

“Yes, Kook?” You answered, nervously biting your nails.

“You said you’re going home for your dad’s birthday?” He asked, his voice laced with uncertainty as you tried to figure out his mood.

“Yeah, he called me out of nowhere for dinner tonight.” You replied, absentmindedly playing with your lips, hoping the casual tone would ease the tension.

“How are you getting there? I’ll be home tomorrow evening.”

“It’s fine. Just a train ride, nothing to worry about.”

You wanted to reassure him in a single breath; that you’d be fine, that it was safe, and if it got late, you could always stay overnight. But for some reason, the words wouldn’t come.

“Can’t you just go over the weekend? We could go together. You have work tomorrow anyway.” His voice held that familiar, persuasive tone, trying to talk you out of it.

“Today’s his birthday, and he asked me to be there.”

You wished you had more energy to push back, to explain how important it was to you, but honestly, if he didn’t want you to go, then whatever.

“Okay.”

His response caught you off guard, almost so much that you didn’t hear it at first.

“What?”

“You can go. It’s your dad’s birthday. I just want you to take care of yourself on the ride, okay?”

You paused, not quite believing what you were hearing. No argument? No complaints? You almost wondered if he was playing some mind game, letting you go without any resistance.

“Love, it’s your father. Of course, I’ll let you go. Sure, I’m worried about your safety, but I don’t want you to miss his birthday.”

You felt a mix of relief and confusion. So, you excitedly planned the trip, knowing you’d make it home to see your dad. You even considered staying over if it got too late, just to catch the first train back in the morning.

It had been years since you last saw your parents, the last visit being when they came to the city for a doctor’s appointment and to check up on you, of course.

Before heading home, you stopped by a few shops to pick out gifts—not just for your dad, but for the whole family. A little something for your mom, your sister, and of course, the biggest gifts went to your niece and nephew. You missed them, and choosing things that reminded you of them felt like a small way to show it.

The train ride was uneventful, quieter than usual, probably because it was just an ordinary weekday. As soon as you arrived, you were met with warm hugs and excited voices. You handed out the gifts—clothes, perfume, and a wristwatch for the adults, and toys for the little ones.

“I don’t even remember the last time I saw you!” your sister, Alice, said as you all gathered around the dining table.

You laughed, reaching for a serving of food. “I know. Last time I saw you, you weren’t this fit. Damn, what are you even taking?” you teased, watching her roll her eyes.

“Y/N, how have you been? How’s work?” your dad asked, cutting into his steak. Then, with a teasing smirk, he added, “I heard you’ve got a boyfriend now.”

Your mom chuckled, clearly amused.

“Work’s been good! Actually, I just got promoted and got a salary increase,” you said with a proud grin.

“Well, duh. That’s because your boyfriend is literally one of the major stakeholders,” Alice said, raising a knowing eyebrow while taking a bite of her food.

She wasn’t wrong. Even though she lived far away, you always kept in touch, and out of everyone, she was the one who knew the most about your relationship.

“Wow, he sounds like a big deal. Why didn’t you bring him?” your mom asked with a smile.

“He’s in France for a business trip,” you replied simply.

Half of the dinner conversation revolved around Jungkook. It felt good to talk about him, to say his name out loud in a space where you didn’t have to think too much about anything else. It reminded you why you loved him, why you chose to be with him. You usually only talked about him with Alice or Chloe. Mina and Henry, on the other hand, weren’t as eager to hear about him.

You knew why. They thought you had changed, that you’d become distant since you started dating Jungkook. And, well… they weren’t entirely wrong. You weren’t as available as you used to be. It wasn’t always because of Jungkook, but if you were being honest, a lot of the time, it was. Either you already had plans with him, or he just didn’t want you to go.

Sometimes, you wondered if that was normal. But every time the thought crossed your mind, you brushed it off before it could linger too long. Overthinking would only stress you out, and honestly, it was easier to just let it go.

As the evening passed, you felt completely at ease surrounded by your family. It had been so long since you’d had the chance to truly relax and catch up with everyone. Alice, living just a few blocks away, always stayed in the town with her husband while you ventured to the city. She had no need to move away, especially since her husband worked while she stayed home with the kids. You were happy for them, but you also missed these moments of simple, unhurried connection.

You were lounging on the couch when Alice walked in from the kitchen, holding her phone. She raised an eyebrow at you as she approached.

“Why aren’t you checking your phone? Jungkook called me, asking about you. He said you’ve been ignoring his calls.”

Oh shit.

Your stomach dropped. You’d completely forgotten about your phone. You scrambled off the couch, rushing to grab your bag from the dining room.

You pulled your phone out, and sure enough, Jungkook’s name flashed on the screen. Without wasting a second, you picked up the call.

“Love,” you said, your voice faltering just a little.

“Where the hell are you?” His voice was harsh, and instantly your heart started pounding.

You blinked, taken aback by his tone. “I’m at my parents’ house,” you said, trying to keep it calm.

“Then why the hell are you not answering your phone? I’ve been trying to reach you for hours! You didn’t even let me know if you made it there safely!” His words were sharp.

You winced at the force in his voice but tried to explain, “I’m sorry, I didn’t have time—”

“And what the fuck was that story you posted? You’re not at your parents’ house.” 

What the fuck?

Your stomach flipped. “What are you talking about? I’m with my parents. You even spoke to my sister, didn’t you?”

“I’m not stupid, Y/N. I know what you’re doing. God knows how you and she planned this to make me think you’re at your parents.”

The words hit you like a slap. Your breath caught in your throat.

Then it hit you. Your Instagram story. It was a story you reposted from Mina six hours ago, with Chloe and Henry. It was a photo from last week, but Mina had just posted it, and you thought it was cute enough to share.

“That was from last week, Jungkook,” you said, your voice ice-cold.

“Oh yeah? And how the hell are you gonna prove that? You’ve ignored me all night!” His voice had grown louder, angrier.

“Are you serious?! If I were doing something behind your back, I wouldn’t leave a damn trace!” you snapped, the frustration bubbling over.

“And when have I ever lied to you, huh?!” Your voice shook with anger. “Even when I know you won’t let me go, I still ask permission from you, like I’m some damn kid! I don’t have to do that, but I still do it because I love you!”

There was a pause, thick with tension, and you could hear his harsh breathing on the other end. After a beat, he spoke again, colder than before.

“Prove it. Prove it to me, Y/N.” He said, provoking you.

You could feel your chest tightening, the anger in you rising. “I’m not proving anything to you, Jeon,” you hissed, the words slipping from your mouth before you could stop them.

You hung up without saying anything else, your fingers shaking as you looked at the screen. Leaning against the wall, you took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. You couldn’t believe what had just happened. The anger was there, but it was the growing unease that made your heart beat faster.

Before you can even process what just happened, your phone starts ringing again. His name flashes on the screen, but you don’t hesitate; you shut it off and shove it into your bag. 

Alice steps into the kitchen, her eyes scanning your face with concern. “What was that?” she asks, gently rubbing your back.

You straighten up, hands on your hips, exhaling as you stare at the ceiling. Before you can answer, Alice’s phone buzzes in her hand. She holds it up, showing you the screen. Your stomach twists at the familiar number. Unregistered, but you already know exactly who it is.

“Block him, Alice,” you say, your voice firm. Without hesitation, she does.

“What happened? We heard you arguing with him,” she asks, her voice low.

With your frustration, you pull out a chair at the dining table and sink into it, burying your face in your hands. You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering anger. “The audacity to call me a liar,” you mutter.

You’ve always listened to him. Let him have a say in your decisions. Let him decide when and where you can go. Let him tell you what’s best. You’ve given him control over so much of your life, and yet he still finds a reason to doubt you.

How messed up is that?

He didn’t even stop to talk things through. Just jumped straight to accusations. No hesitation, no second-guessing; just straight-up assuming the worst.

And the worst part? It’s your dad’s birthday. Instead of enjoying the night with your family, you’re sitting here, fuming over an argument that never should’ve happened in the first place. Over words, you never thought he’d say.

But maybe… maybe this is your fault too.

If you had just let him know when you arrived. If you had updated him like he always asks. If you hadn’t reposted that stupid story from Mina; one that, to him, made it look like you weren’t where you said you’d be.

And the worst thing? He doesn’t even know you actually did see them that day. It was just a quick visit to Mina’s apartment, barely an hour. Not a big deal. Not something worth mentioning.

Still, even if you messed up, does that really justify him doubting you like this? Assuming the worst without even asking?

You know you’re not perfect, but you also know one thing for sure; you would never do what he’s accusing you of. Not in a million years.

You decided to spend the night at your parents’ house. Even Alice stayed, not wanting to leave you alone with your thoughts. Going back to your place, where silence would only make things worse, wasn’t an option. At least here, you had distractions; family, conversation, anything to keep your mind from spiraling.

Before everything with Jungkook happened, you had planned to catch the earliest trip home so you could make it to work. But after that argument, there was no way. The idea of facing a normal day felt impossible. You sent in a sick leave request instead.

Alice slid a glass of beer toward you, watching as you picked it up. “Are you living with him now?” she asked, her tone casual but laced with curiosity.

You rolled your eyes before taking a sip. “I told you not to bring him up.”

“I’m just asking. You always say you barely sleep at your own place.”

She had a point. And she had also convinced you to drink with her, claiming it’d help lighten your mood. You weren’t exactly feeling up for it, but she was persistent, and since you weren’t going to work tomorrow, so you figured, why not?

“I stay at his place a lot, but I still go home whenever I want.”

Alice snorted. “That’s literally just living together, but with extra steps.”

“It’s not if I still have my own apartment.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” She smirked, then grabbed her phone, scrolling for a song. As music filled the space, she glanced at you again. “You know, from what you’ve told me, he seems nice. But still… be careful. No matter how long you’ve been with someone, you never really know them.”

She wasn’t wrong.

It had only been two years since you reconnected with Jungkook. It felt like a long time, but was it enough to really know who he was?

Now that you thought about it, there was a lot you didn’t know.

His job? You knew he dealt with big companies, something about stakeholders, but the details were always vague.

His family? He never talked about them.

His past? Barely mentioned.

Even something as big as whether he planned to stay here or go back to Korea, he never really said. And you never pushed, assuming he’d tell you when he was ready.

But still… you couldn’t help but wonder.

You woke up with a headache; not from drinking too much, just from barely sleeping. You had tossed and turned all night, your thoughts refusing to let you rest. And now, after barely two hours of sleep, you were already awake.

Staying in bed was tempting, but lying there only meant giving your mind more time to replay last night’s argument. So, with a deep sigh, you forced yourself up and headed downstairs for breakfast.

Before you even reached the dining hall, you heard voices—loud, cheerful conversation. Strange. It wasn’t just your family. Maybe some neighbors had stopped by, or a distant relative had come for your dad’s birthday.

But no.

Because sitting at the dining table, grinning like he belonged there, was Jungkook.

Your mom’s face lit up when she saw you. “Y/N, you’re finally awake! Look who’s here!” She gestured for you to sit, her excitement completely unbothered by the fact that you had a massive argument with him just hours ago.

Jungkook met your gaze with a warm smile as if nothing had happened.

“He came early this morning to pick you up for work,” your mom continued. “But Alice told him you were taking the day off.”

Your dad chuckled, clapping Jungkook on the back. “Straight from France, Y/N! We thought you were just making excuses not to bring him over, but here he is!”

Jungkook only laughed at that, completely at ease.

You, on the other hand, said nothing. You were still irritated, but you couldn’t deny the shock of seeing him here. He told you he wouldn’t be back until tonight, yet here he was, casually having breakfast with your family like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And they liked him. A lot.

The conversation kept flowing, and from the way everyone talked to him, it was clear they’d already warmed up to him. This wasn’t exactly how you imagined introducing him to your family, but at least you skipped the awkward “Hey, Mom and Dad, this is my boyfriend” speech.

Alice shot you a knowing smirk. “Alright, we’ll get going and let you two talk,” she said, winking as she stood up.

You shot her a glare, but she only grinned.

They excused themselves, leaving just you and Jungkook in the dining hall.

He sat across from you, a cup of coffee in front of him, while you quietly ate your breakfast, letting him stare. You weren’t in the mood to break the silence first.

“You turned off your phone.” His voice was steady, but there was something behind it. Something tight.

You lifted your head slightly, meeting his gaze. “Obviously.”

“You had me worried.” His expression turned serious, waiting for you to respond. But you didn’t. You let the silence stretch between you, taking another bite of your bread.

Jungkook sighed. “Look, Y/N. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to lash out at you last night. I just... I panicked when you didn’t answer my calls or messages. And then I saw your Instagram story with your friends, and I—”

He reached for your hand resting on the table, his fingers wrapping around yours. His eyes softened, pleading.

Damn it.

He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing slow kisses against your palm, his fingers playing with yours. You stayed quiet, watching him, feeling the warmth of his lips against your skin.

“I know I messed up,” he murmured between kisses. “That’s why I’m here, love. I’m really sorry.”

And just like that, your irritation wavered.

The frustration, the anger, the late-night overthinking. It all started slipping away.

With just a kiss on your palm, your resolve crumbled.

With just the fact that he flew back early to fix things, all the things that had you upset suddenly didn’t feel that heavy anymore.

He slowly let go of your hand, reaching for something beside him. Your breath hitched the moment you saw it, a bouquet of pink carnations, wrapped in soft lime green and peach paper.

Jungkook stood up, moving to sit beside you, placing the bouquet in your hands. You blinked, caught off guard, struggling to find the right words.

“I was supposed to leave later this afternoon,” he admitted, voice low, “but I couldn’t stand leaving things unresolved. And when I couldn’t reach you... I just couldn’t let it happen.”

Being loved by Jeon Jungkook feels damn good.

From the way he puts in effort to how he always finds ways to make you happy. From his care to his unwavering support, being in love with him feels easy; effortless. Of course, you won’t deny that his looks and wealth are nice perks, but those are just extras. What truly matters is how he loves you, how he makes you feel secure in his own way.

So, without hesitation, you let the issue slide.

You never really planned to stay mad at him for long. You just needed a little space, a moment to process everything. But that became impossible the second he flew across countries just to fix things with you. And if you were being honest, the argument happened because you ignored his calls and then reposted Mina’s story without thinking.

You ended up staying at your parents' house until after lunch. Not because you wanted to, but because your parents weren’t ready to let Jungkook go just yet. They really seemed to like him. The way he talked to them so comfortably, how they got his humor, how he charmed them effortlessly. They were practically keeping him hostage with their endless questions and stories.

Not that you based your love life on your parents’ approval, but it was nice to see them get along better than you expected. Jungkook wasn’t hard to like. Maybe back in high school, when he was more reserved, but now? Now, as a grown man with a business mindset, he knew how to win people over.

Well… except for your friends.

To be fair, they barely knew him. Most of their interactions were limited to the quick moments when he’d pick you up after you hung out with them.

Life with him has been good. No major arguments, no real problems. At least, not as long as you kept him updated on your whereabouts. He did the same for you, but you made it a point to let him know what was happening in your life, especially when he wasn’t around.

Because that’s all he really wanted.

For you to check in, to let him know you were okay. You understood that; it was how he made sure you were safe.

But there were moments when you wished he didn’t care so much.

Specifically, when you wanted to hang out with your friends.

That was the only real issue between you. His tendency to limit who you spent time with especially if they weren’t your high school friends.

And when you sensed that pushing too hard would only lead to an argument, you backed down. You let it go.

Because at the end of the day, you knew he just wanted to protect you.

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

But sometimes, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it didn’t really make sense.

Hanging out with your friends has always been part of your routine, it’s your way to unwind, to reset. They lift you up in a way no one else can. Of course, Jungkook does too, but it’s different when you’re with them. There’s a freedom to it, a lightness that you don’t get anywhere else.

“Love, please? I can’t miss Chloe’s party. It’s her farewell before she leaves for America.”

You tried to reason with Jungkook, hoping he’d understand. Chloe was chasing her dream, heading off to model for luxury brands, and this was the last time you’d all be together before she left.

“I’m allowing you, but I have to fetch you by midnight. You already know I don’t like it when you sleep somewhere else without me.”

His voice was calm but firm as he drove, one hand resting casually on the wheel. He had just picked you up from work when you decided to bring it up. You figured telling him now would be better than waiting until later.

“Love, this is the last time we’ll all be together. Come on.”

You reached over, resting your hand on his lap as you pleaded softly.

He glanced down for half a second, then back at the road, his expression unreadable.

“I’ve said my conditions, Y/N.”

Final. No room for negotiation.

Frustration simmered inside you. No matter how much you tried to understand him, this part of him never made sense.

Why does he always do this? Why does he insist on controlling when and where you can be with your own friends? People who were in your life long before he was?

You told yourself, again and again, that he was just trying to protect you. But from what?

These were your childhood friends. You had never been in danger with them, not once.

But, like always, you didn’t push. You let him have his way, let him hold the reins like he always did.

The party was at a club, nothing crazy, and afterward, everyone was supposed to crash at a hotel Chloe had booked nearby. She wanted to savor the last moments with you all before she left.

But, as always, you were going to miss out.

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll see you at midnight. I love you.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before pulling away, walking back to his car, and driving off.

You were irritated, but you swallowed it down, not wanting to ruin the night. This was Chloe’s farewell party, the last time you’d all be together before she left and you weren’t about to let your frustration with Jungkook take over.

The party was packed. Chloe had invited everyone. Her high school circle friends, her college buddies, coworkers, even a few relatives. The energy was buzzing, the music loud, the drinks flowing. It was fun… or at least, it should’ve been. If only Jungkook hadn’t already soured your mood.

You did your best to act normal, plastering on smiles, laughing when expected, but Mina wasn’t buying it. She never did.

“You okay, Y/N?” she asked as you stepped outside with her while she had a smoke. You didn’t smoke, never had, but the fresh air seemed like a good idea.

“Yeah, of course!” you answered a little too enthusiastically.

Mina gave you a look before taking a slow drag of her cigarette.

“That’s the fakest answer I’ve ever heard from you,” she said flatly, exhaling a stream of smoke.

You forced out a laugh.

“Even your laugh sounds fake. Gosh, Y/N. Try harder.”

“Fuck you,” you shot back playfully, nudging her with your shoulder.

She smirked but didn’t drop it. “Seriously, what’s up? You haven’t looked okay since you got here. Did something happen?”

You hesitated. You never talked about your issues with Jungkook to your friends. Hell, you barely talked about him at all. It wasn’t just because they had… opinions about him. You just weren’t the type to discuss your relationship with others. When things got tough, you preferred to handle it on your own.

But tonight, you wanted to tell her. Just this once. Just so someone knew how you really felt.

But the words wouldn’t come.

“Just tired,” you said instead. “Had a lot of work to deal with before I left the office.”

Mina gave you a side-eye, clearly not convinced. “Mmm-hmm. That sucks,” she said, but her tone was laced with suspicion.

A beat passed before she asked, “By the way, how’s Jungkook? You never talk about him.”

That caught you off guard. Was she just curious, or did she sense something?

“He’s doing great. He drove me here. He’ll, uh… pick me up later too,” you say, trying to sound casual, trying to make it seem like no big deal.

But it was a big deal. And somehow, without meaning to, you’d just handed Mina the entire fucking truth without actually saying it.

Her brows shot up. “What the hell do you mean? You’re not coming with us after the party?”

You blink, caught completely off guard. You knew you’d have to break it to them eventually, but you hadn’t figured out how yet. And now, thanks to your own damn words, you were trapped.

“Didn’t we talk about this?” Mina pressed, her voice rising. “You said you were coming. Now you’re telling me Jungkook’s picking you up?”

“I—I mean, yeah, but—”

“He didn’t allow you, did he?”

“It’s not like that. I was supposed to come with you guys after the party, but I just… decided it’s not a good idea considering my state,” you say, blurting out whatever excuse comes to mind without even thinking.

Mina scoffs, raising a brow. “Oh, really? And you also decided it was a good idea not to tell us you’re ditching?”

“No! It’s not like—”

Before you can even finish, Henry walks in.

“Hey, what’s taking you two so long? Chloe’s looking for you. She wants to take a picture,” he says, approaching the both of you.

Neither you nor Mina say a word. But while Henry looks between you two in confusion, Mina keeps her gaze locked on you, practically daring you to explain.

“What’s going on?” Henry finally asks, his eyes flicking between the two of you.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask her?” Mina says flatly, tossing her cigarette to the ground and stomping it out.

You ignore the tension tightening around your chest. “Let’s go inside. Chloe’s waiting,” you mumble, turning to leave.

But before you can take five steps, Mina’s voice cuts through the air, laced with sarcasm.

“Make sure to tell her you’re ditching us  again after this, yeah?”

“What do you mean?” Henry asks, still completely clueless.

You glance back, trying to come up with something, anything to say, but your throat tightens. Instead of answering, you turn and walk away.

You swallow hard, holding your breath, forcing back the burn in your eyes. You try not to think. Not about Mina, not about the truth she’s circling, not about the weight pressing down on you.

Just breathe. Keep it together.

You’re almost at your seat when Chloe suddenly appears beside you, her bright smile and glassy eyes making it clear she’s a few drinks in.

“Babe! I was looking for you everywhere!” she exclaims, giggling. “Where’s Henry and Mina?”

“They’re outside,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “They’ll be here in a sec.”

But even in her tipsy state, Chloe picks up on the shift in your energy. Her smile fades, replaced by a concerned frown.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” she asks softly.

The moment the words leave her lips, your eyes start to burn.

Shit.

“I’m okay, Chloe! I just need to go to the restroom for a second,” you rush out, spinning on your heels before she can press any further.

She calls after you, but you don’t stop. You weave through the crowd, head down, feet moving on autopilot. The second you reach the restroom, you lock the door behind you and let everything crash down at once.

It’s harder than you thought.

You want to tell them everything. God, you’re so fucking tired of pretending. But at the same time, you want to protect Jungkook. You know exactly how they’d see him if you told the truth. Maybe they already do. Maybe you’re the one who refuses to acknowledge it.

You press your hands against the sink, staring at yourself in the mirror. The music pounds outside. People are drinking, dancing, and celebrating. And yet, you’re here. Stuck.

You don’t recognize the girl staring back at you.

When did this happen?

How did you get here?

You thought you could handle it—handle the way Jungkook loves you. But now, standing here, wiping at the tears spilling down your cheeks, you realize something you’ve been pushing away for too long.

You’re suffocating.

The sudden knock at the door jolts you back to reality. Panic kicks in. You swipe at your tears, straighten your clothes, and force a deep breath.

“Just a second!” you call out, turning to the sink to splash cold water on your face. The knocking doesn’t stop. It gets louder, harder—urgent. But whoever’s on the other side isn’t saying a word.

Your hands shake as you dry your face. You pull yourself together as best as you can before unlocking the door, bracing yourself.

The second it swings open, you freeze.

Chloe, Mina, and Henry stand there, staring at you.

Chloe steps forward first, her drunken haze from earlier completely gone. “Y/N, what happened?” she asks, concern heavy in her voice.

You open your mouth to answer, but before you can get a word out, Mina moves in. Without warning, she grabs your wrist and pulls you out of the bathroom.

“Hey! Mina, careful!” Henry hisses, but she doesn’t let go.

Her grip is tight, but that’s not what stuns you, it’s the fire in her eyes.

The second you’re outside, away from the pounding music and the haze of the bar, she finally releases you. Then she turns, glaring at you with full force.

“No time for bullshit. Tell us what the fuck is going on,” she demands, arms crossed.

“The fuck, Mina? Can you chill?” Henry groans, rubbing his temples.

Mina whips around to face him. “How the fuck am I supposed to chill when she’s doing this again?! We’ve talked about this before, Henry and it’s so fucking obvious she’s doing it on purpose! For what? Her asshole boyfriend?”

“Mina!” Chloe snaps, but Mina doesn’t back down.

“What? Are you really going to sit here and act like this is okay? This is the last night we have together before you  leave, Chloe, and she’s pulling this shit again!” Her voice rises in frustration.

You barely register the words. Your chest is tight. Your throat feels like it’s closing up. You don’t even realize the tears are falling until you taste salt on your lips.

“Tell me, Y/N. Are you really sick, or is that just another excuse so you don’t have to come with us? Because you’re so obsessed with your boyfriend that you can’t even spare a single fucking night for your best friend?”

It’s too much.

“I wanted to come, okay?!” The words burst out of you. “I almost begged him to let me stay for just one fucking night, but he wouldn’t let me!”

Your voice cracks, and the tears come faster. You can’t stop them. You don’t even try.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry that I let this happen! It’s all my fucking fault because I didn’t want to fight with him! I didn’t want him to be disappointed! I didn’t want to make it an issue!”

As the words spill out, the truth crashes into you like a truck. How fucking pathetic. How small you’ve made yourself for him.

Chloe speaks up, her voice soft but steady. “Why would he be disappointed?”

“I don’t know!” you cry out, frustration pouring out of you. “Because he doesn’t want me to, and if I do, it’s a fucking problem! And I just—” Your voice breaks again. You drag your hands through your hair, gripping it hard like you’re trying to hold yourself together.

“I don’t fucking want that, okay? I know you all think I’m stupid as hell right now, but that’s the fucking truth! Call me obsessed, call me whatever the fuck you want, because it’s true!”

Your heart is racing. Your breath is coming in short, sharp gasps.

“I’m so fucking stupid, but I chose this. And I wanted to apologize for ruining this night, for making this about me when it was supposed to be for Chloe.”

Your back hits the cold wall behind you, and you close your eyes, gripping your hair, willing yourself to disappear.

Silence.

No one says a word.

You don’t have to look up to know they’re all staring at you.

Your head is pounding, your heart’s racing, and regret hits you like a brick wall. You didn’t mean to let it all spill out like that, but fuck, you just couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Goddamn it.

Your eyes flick down to your wrist. It’s ten minutes to eleven. You don’t have your phone, but you already know what’s waiting for you: missed calls, unread messages, or worse… he’s already here, looking for you.

“I should go. Jungkook’s probably—” your voice is tired, drained.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“I’m not letting you walk away again. And I’m sure as hell not letting that asshole control your fucking life.” Mina’s voice is sharp, unwavering.

“No. I’ll figure this out, okay? I'll talk to you—”

“Are you seriously letting him take over your whole fucking life?” She looks at you like she doesn’t even recognize you anymore. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Mina, chill.” Henry grips her arm, but his eyes soften when they land on you. “Y/N, listen. We’ll figure this out. We’ll help you.”

“What are you talking about? I can handle this—”

Chloe pulls you in, arms locking around you in a trembling, desperate hug. She holds on like she’s afraid you’ll slip away if she lets go.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” her voice cracks, and your chest tightens. “I’m sorry this is happening to you, and we didn’t even notice.”

The words cut deep, deeper than you expect. And before you can stop them, the tears come rushing back, spilling over like a dam finally breaking.

“We didn’t know… I’m sorry.”

With just one hug, the weight you’ve been carrying shifts. Crushing, yet somehow lighter at the same time.

With just one hug, the exhaustion seeps into your bones, making you realize how much you’ve been running on empty.

With just one hug, it finally sinks in. This isn’t just overwhelming. It’s unbearable.

“We were supposed to be there for you,” Chloe whispers through her own tears. “But where were we?”

And that’s when it hits you. You’re not alone. You don’t have to be. For the first time in a long time, you feel like you can breathe.

But then, regret creeps in.

“What exactly happened?” Henry asks.

You step back from Chloe, swallowing hard. “Nothing really happened.”

“Y/N, please,” Mina sighs, voice weary. “Just stop defending him for once.”

And then, you see him.

A familiar figure standing in the distance, phone in hand, scanning the crowd with a panicked expression.

Jungkook.

The second his eyes land on you, he moves. Fast. Almost running.

Part 1 of 2 It's been a year since I last wrote, and I thought I wouldn’t come back and would just be a casual reader. But here I am, writing again anyway, lmao.

[shaunamilfman]

if i could be who you wanted

pairing: Shauna Shipman x f!reader (and the memory of Jackie) summary: You're Melissa. iykyk note: Minors DNI. mentions of blood, cannibalism.

You duck behind a bush the second you hear the sticks cracking beneath Shauna's feet, a bolt of fear shooting up your spine. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

God, Shauna would kill you if she found you out here. And you would deserve it for being so stupid.

You hadn't meant to follow her out here–well, that wasn't exactly true. You had meant to follow her, sure, but this was the last thing you had expected to find. It was sweet in a horribly depressing sort of way. It's not like you hadn't heard the way all the other girls talk about her around camp, the way they comment on her refusal to wear the dumb mask. She was grieving in her own way, and this was proof of it. 

So you'd watched her visit his grave, feeling like some pathetic stalker intruding in on one of the worst moments of her life. But it wasn't the first time that's happened, was it? Everything Shauna's gone through has been in front of everyone, leaving the rest of you to watch like voyeurs as Shauna found Jackie's body. And again, as she lost her baby. 

Maybe you should have let her have this one thing to herself, but you couldn't stop yourself from leaving the flower on his grave. You just wanted Shauna to know that she wasn't alone, even though she kept pushing everybody away. Good thinking, really. She's lost her best friend and her baby, but she has you: random JV girl. 

You're not even sure she knows your name, even now. She'd pointed toward you and called you “that one” just last week. But it was fine. Shauna had a lot going on. Especially with her growing feud with Mari. She had actually looked at you then and seemingly saw you for the first time when you had shit-talked Mari to her. If you knew that was all it would take, you would’ve done it ages ago. It’s not like you haven’t been doing it behind Mari’s back for months.

Your hands start to shake as Shauna pulls the knife out. Pressing your hands into your thighs in an attempt to stop it only results in you finally putting enough pressure on the stick you were kneeling on to crack beneath your weight.

Fuck.

Shauna whirls around, staring intensely in your direction as she holds the knife out to her side. You know what she’s done with that knife, what you wish she would do to you. You don’t dare move, hoping that maybe Shauna won’t see you that way. Like in Jurassic Park. As long as you just stay still and make no noise, maybe you can get out of here alive.

You’re honestly terrified, and it’s not unwarranted. She was known to fly off the handle at the best of times, and here you were leaving flowers on her dead son’s grave in the middle of the woods with no one around to hear you scream. In simple terms, you’re screwed.

“Get out here,” she calls out, stepping slowly forward as her eyes search the underbrush before coming to a stop as you stand up.

You approach her slowly, with your hands clearly visible at your sides. No sudden movements. The way she’s watching you goes beyond anger, beyond even rage. You can’t put your finger on it, but it doesn’t make it any less terrifying to be on the receiving end of. It reminds you oddly of the stray dogs in your neighborhood, ribs visible beneath fur matted with grime, feral eyes focused entirely on you. It’s something in the way they bare their teeth and growl as you slowly inch away, like they’re just praying you turn your back to them so they have an excuse to lunge forward. 

Back then you were at least smart enough to leave. 

Now, you were moving towards the predator.

You smile weakly at Shauna, and she doesn’t even seem to notice. Every bit of her attention is focused on you for once, but now that you have it, you aren’t sure you know what to do with it. This was a lot, wasn’t it? It certainly felt like it. You’ve always heard that not all attention is good attention, but death glare or not, you were willing to take what you could get. You haven’t survived in the wilderness this long without taking what you could get and saying thank you for the scraps. 

“Hey,” you say slowly.

You keep walking forward even as Shauna starts stalking toward you. If looks could kill, she wouldn’t even need to make use of the knife in her hand. Your heartbeat skyrockets, beating so hard in your chest that you can barely hear the words that leave your lips as you speak them.

“I didn’t mean to follow you, or anything. I just–I couldn’t sleep, you know?” You force out a panicked laugh that sounds more like a wheeze than anything else. Were you sweating? It felt like you’re sweating. You’re sweating like a pig, aren't you? 

Focus.

“I just saw you leaving and I thought maybe I could look out for you.”

Shauna’s still quiet, damningly so as she looks at you. She doesn’t even blink. Just stares.

“Not that you need anyone to protect you, obviously.” You gesture vaguely in the direction of the knife at her side, but Shauna only grips it tighter. You were just digging the hole deeper at this point. 

“But with Coach out there and Mari missing…” You trail off as you realize your words seem to have absolutely no meaning to her.

“No one,” Shauna says, gliding forward with the effortless grace of a predator. She’s not a stray dog anymore, not shaky and desperate and feral. Now she looks like the killer she is. 

(The mother she is.)

“Has a right to my baby.”

Your eyes widen in fear as you take a step back, a distance that Shauna is quick to close. She doesn’t even seem to think as she moves forward. It’s not a calculated intimidation like you were used to. It just was.

“He’s my baby,” Shauna repeats.

“Oh,” you gasp, not entirely from fear. Mostly not from fear, though the feeling overwhelmed almost every one of your senses. Almost.

“No, it’s not–I wasn’t trying to…” You start helplessly. It takes everything you have in you not to start stuttering like an idiot in front of her. You weren’t doing much to help your case right now. A fact you’re reminded of as Shauna’s eyes feel like they’re drilling holes into your skull. One wrong move and you’d end up like Mari with a face full of dirt, but no one around to pull Shauna off of you.

“You’re right,” you say earnestly. Shauna hesitates for a moment, her feet stilling as she watches you. It’s almost scarier now that she’s staying in place, like her muscles are just coiling up and waiting to strike. 

“I’m sorry. For everything that’s happened to you. It’s not fair–not that anything has been since…” You don’t even have to say the words. Still, the words the crash hang between you just as heavily. It hung between all of you, a constant reminder of everything you’ve lost and still have to lose since boarding that plane to nationals. 

“But you just keep moving forward,” you continue. “And I really admire that.”

Shauna softens slightly, but not much. Not enough that you aren’t sure she isn’t still planning to gut you. You aren’t even sure if she knows. Shauna moves so impulsively at times that it seems to be as much of a surprise to her as it is to everyone else, like she’s halfway through the action before she even notices and has to commit to seeing it through.

“I just–”

She lunges forward, the knife away from her side and pressing against your neck before you even take another breath. Your back slams into the tree, scratching painfully against the bark beneath your skin. It hurts. But as Shauna looms over you–even though she’s looking up at you– you quickly realize how much you like it. How could you not when she looks at you with brown eyes so wild and dark and so, so close?

“If you tell anybody about this, I will fucking kill you,” Shauna says, a raw anger to her words that sends chills through your body in more ways than one. “I will kill you, and I will gut your little fucking–”

What she was going to gut will have to remain a mystery. Because before she can finish the thought, the snarled threat cuts off as you lunge forward–as much as you can with the blade of her prized knife held so closely to your throat–to kiss her. You keep your eyes open just long enough to watch hers close as your lips connect, a moment of surprise on her face before it’s gone in a flash and she’s pulling away.

The knife is held looser in her hands now, tilted up to point to your chin instead of pressed so threateningly against your throat. She’s watching you closely, her mind whirring as she scrutinizes every inch of your expression. You can practically hear her mind working, and you hope desperately that she’s decided she wants to kiss you again more than she wants to hurt you for what you did. 

It’s so quiet, not a single sign of the wildlife around you.

Just the two of you panting together inches apart.

She presses forward, closing the distance as she all but slams your lips together. Both of her hands are wrapped around her knife, holding it steady even as yours fall to her hips and pull them desperately into yours. Shauna doesn’t need to be told twice, keeping you up against that tree and exactly where she wants you as she moves her hips against yours.

Shauna has the knife and unlimited power to do whatever the hell she wants out here so far from everybody else. Somehow it’s the safest you’ve felt in months.

She kisses you like she wants to devour you, which probably is a thought in the back of her mind. The only thoughts left in yours are holy shit and please. Shauna is everywhere you are, not allowing your lips to get a moment of peace as she chases each and every twitch of your jaw. You think she’d probably still kiss you on the way down if you passed out from the desperate screaming of your lungs, and the thought isn’t as unwelcome as it once might have been.

Your mouths separate just long enough for the two of you to suck in one desperate breath apiece before she’s on you again. As confused as Shauna looked the first time she pulled away, she sure seemed to get the hang of kissing a girl rather quickly. It makes you wonder if she and–

She yanks you away from the tree with one hand fisted in either side of the collar of your shirt, the knife still held in one hand. You have to turn your head to the side to avoid her cutting your jaw, leaving you unaware of the shove before it comes. It sends you stumbling back, your ankle catching painfully on an upturned root as it takes your legs out from under you far more effectively than Shauna could have done on her own.

Your back hits the ground with a loud wheeze, the sound of all the air in your lungs making a quick exit. Shauna follows you down onto her knees, one leg swinging over your hips as she settles down heavily on the base of your stomach while you’re still trying to find air left to breathe.

“Shauna,” you gasp, staring wide-eyed up at her. 

She tilts her head to the side in consideration before leaning down to attach her lips to yours once again. You’re not sure it's because she still wants to kiss you as much as she wants you not to protest.

You can feel a rock digging into your back, only made worse by the way Shauna rests more of her weight on your shoulder as she leans forward, but you might still kiss Shauna even if she started biting chunks of flesh away. A rock was nothing in comparison.

Shauna’s hand was still wrapped around the knife. She wasn’t using it to threaten you anymore, was barely even aiming it in your direction, but the handle of it digs into your ribs as she holds it between the two of you. With each messy roll of her hips against your stomach, she runs the risk of cutting herself on the edge of it, which you think must be part of the thrill of it for her. The thought of the sounds that would leave Shauna’s lips if she caught the edge of her skin made you kiss her harder, almost desperate to watch her shirt turn red with it.

You’re so caught up in that thought that you almost don’t notice her fingers loosening around the hilt until she finally arches her back enough to sit it vaguely off to the side in favor of threading her fingers through your hair. 

The sudden absence of the knife is almost enough to pull you out of it. 

“What?” You question dumbly.

“Shut up, Jax,” she mutters, freezing the moment her brain makes the connection. Shauna looks afraid for the briefest of moments as she looks down at you. Not afraid of you or the situation. Afraid of what letting the name slip from her lips means for her. Fear quickly turns into a murderous glare. Like it was somehow your fault she said it, like you had torn it from her lips like your teeth tore flesh away from Jackie.

It takes a moment for you to realize the significance of it, far too focused on the feeling of her rubbing herself against your stomach to listen to the words coming out of her mouth. You could adapt. You’ve done a lot of that lately.

“Oh…” you say quietly, “Oh–okay.”

You lick your lips, trying to speak even as dry as your throat feels. “Okay, Shippy?” You try. 

That wasn’t it.

“Don’t you dare call me that,” She hisses, fingers flexing like she’s already missing her knife.

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “I didn’t mean to–”

“I don’t care,” she interrupts, speaking right over you. “Just shut up.” 

You nod quickly. She grabs your chin roughly, holding your gaze captive as she forces you to meet her eyes. Whatever she finds there seems to satisfy her, because she lets go with a scoff as she rolls her eyes.

“That’s good,” she says condescendingly, tapping your cheek lightly with her fingers. “You’re good at doing what you’re told, huh?”

You flush with embarrassment, eyes drifting away as you struggle to find something to say back to that. As it turns out, you don’t have to. Not as Shauna pulls the button through her shorts, slowly dragging the zipper down as you watch. She’s holding you still with the weight of your anticipation, and she’s more than enjoying the power it gives her over you as she moves away just enough to pull her shorts and her panties out of the way in one rough pull.

“I want your mouth,” Shauna says. 

It isn’t a question, but you nod anyway. She smirks, and that’s all she needs to start moving. One thigh and then the next settling on either side of your head. Your fingers tremble with hesitancy as you slowly reach out to grip her thighs, but Shauna either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as her hand reaches out to grab your hair.

Shauna holds herself just out of reach, tantalizingly wet and just aching for your tongue. The muscles in her thighs strain from the effort, but that doesn’t register for Shauna. You feel your mouth water, leaning forward only for her to yank you back by your hair. The pained gasp you let out has an obvious effect on Shauna, her grip tightening as her cunt visibly twitches. It’s only when you give up and send her a pleading look that she finally lowers herself within reach of your mouth.

She cries out in shock at how quickly you are to take her into your mouth, your curious tongue running through her as her free hand shoots out to rest on the forest floor to balance herself.

“Oh, fuck,” she mutters, which goes straight through you.

You pull her closer by your grip on her thighs, figuring she wouldn’t get mad at you for it now that she’s let you get your mouth on her. It was a fair guess, not even a thought of protest leaving Shauna’s lips as you bury yourself in her.

She grinds down against your face, smearing her arousal up and down your chin and your cheeks. The ends of her flannel brush against your skin as she moves, her head tilted back to look at the tops of the trees as she bites at her lip to keep herself nice and quiet. Shauna doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction of hearing her moan.

But you can feel it in the way she holds herself, in the way she chases your tongue like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Shauna can play games all she likes, but her satisfaction is undeniable as you flick your tongue across her clit. She whines, a choked sound that’s punished with the nails of one hand digging into your arm. You can feel blood slowly making its way down your arm, but you pay it no mind.

It’s almost like she can sense how cocky that reaction has made you, rising up on her knees and out of reach. You try to chase her again, because you never learn, to meet with no success once again.

“Nuh-uh,” she says mockingly, lightly–as far as Shauna is concerned–slapping your cheek. “I'll decide when you get to taste.”

Shauna hovers out of reach, reaching down to rub her thumb across the streaks of wetness on your cheeks. She brings it to your lips, looking pleased when you suck the tip of her thumb into your mouth. There’s something like delight in her eyes as she presses her thumb down against your tongue, holding it in place at the bottom of your mouth to feel the slick warmth of it before pulling her hand away again.

Is she seriously going to make you beg to get her off? You take one long look at Shauna, pulling lightly at her thighs.

“Please? Please, Shauna.”

You strain against her grip, anything to get her back into your mouth. You’re beyond pride. Making yourself look as pathetic as possible has worked for you so far, and it works again as Shauna lowers herself down to start riding your tongue. 

She doesn’t even take a moment to get back into it, slipping back in place like she never left. You couldn’t care, not when she’s taking exactly what she wants from you. This is what you’ve wanted from her for months, and now it’s finally yours.

You can just barely make out the sounds of her chanting a name under her breath, over and over like a prayer. “Jackie, Jackie, Jackie, Jackie.”

It should sting, and part of it does, but you can live with having Jackie’s seconds. God knows it wasn’t the worst thing that’s happened to you out here. Besides, Jackie wasn’t the one beneath her right now. Wasn’t the one whose face she was riding. She may be imagining it was Jackie, but you’re still the one with your mouth on her.

You grip her thighs firmly, holding her in place as they start to quiver on either side of your head.

Shauna comes with a muffled grunt, biting at her hand to keep herself from calling out. She doesn’t want to come, doesn’t want her body to betray her in the way it so obviously is, but she can’t help herself. She’s so quiet you almost wouldn’t have noticed if not for the way her hips buck as she soaks your face.

Her hips slowly still as she rides out the last of it, panting quietly as her hands rest on either side of your head to hold herself up. After a moment, almost reluctantly, she swings one leg back over the other side of your head as she stumbles to her feet on unsteady legs. Shauna wipes the hand she’d rubbed across your face on her shirt, trying to get rid of the last evidence of your dalliance.

It would’ve been a smart idea if not for the way she covers the lower half of your face and smears the inside of her thighs. Shauna stares down at you as she picks the knife back up, twirling it idly in her hand before sighing.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” she says. There’s no bite to it, no real sting. She’s speaking the truth as plainly as she can manage it.

“Yeah, probably,” you agree.

Shauna laughs gruffly as she pulls her clothes back on. She sends you back sprawling into the dirt with a well-placed hand on your forehead as you start to sit forward, grinning at the shocked huff you make.

“Don’t follow me next time,” she warns.

You should say okay, which would be the acceptable thing to do. It’s clearly what she’s expecting you to say.

“What if I do?”

Shauna hesitates. “Find out.”

She walks away, leaving you dazed on the forest floor.

[sheeezu]

Just a quick shifting PSA

(sponsored by this bear! his name is... Cornelius. Wait seriously?)

have you ever wanted to know why some people attempt to shift right after they wake up?

It's because, solely based on my own research so don't hear me out if you don't want to

It's the exact moment when our consciousness adjusts and reintroduces it self into reality after being disconnected to it by sleep. Like a photo editor, making sure the saturation is correct, the colors aren't off, memories are in order, it's the correct reality, thoughts are aligned to current circumstances.

We can figure it out by observing our behavior right after we wake up

Groggy is the word.

But behind the scenes, we're talking to people not there, we're mixing dreams with reality, aka the things that never happen, we experience scenarios which never happened all in the short period right after we wake up. (also some other weird reality hijinks! come on you know this one, near void state experiences, your soul being sucked out etc etc)

And afterwards we get our bearings and everything falls back into order.

Moral of the story is try to utilize the time right THE SECOND you wake up to shift to your desired reality!!! (or the void state :)

Posting this when you all are snoozing away in a mess of time zones.

[hancorys]

k.lh — language of quiet hearts

genre: slowburn, fluff, sort of crack, comfort, strangers to lovers pairing: leehan x afab!reader wc: 9.5k warning: long-ass narrative and romance pace (bcs i’m a sucker for slowburn), aespa, belle and bonedo mentioned. FISHES mentioned!! lots of them, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind mentioned, my never ending “to be loved is to be known” mantra listen: ligaw — moonstar88 ft. chito miranda, love. — wte, bad — wte, sa bawat sandali — amiel sol, romcom — rob daniel, balisong — rivermaya, valentine — laufey

“welcome to the broadcasting club! we are pleased to have you here!”

a guy with a bright, almost too enthusiastic smile greets you the moment you step into the journalism headquarters. his voice carries an undeniable warmth, as if he’s been waiting all day just for your arrival. jaehyun—that’s his name. at least, that's what you remember from the posters.

the room hums with a quiet energy, papers rustling, low voices exchanging thoughts, the soft clicking of keyboards filling the spaces in between. the air smells faintly of old books, freshly brewed coffee, and the unmistakable scent of ink from the scattered printouts on the desks.

this is your first day at the broadcasting club. you had been enticed by one of their posters pinned outside your classroom, the words practically calling out to you—

“want a peaceful environment? join the broadcasting club now!”

peaceful, huh? looking at the head president in front of you, you're beginning to think otherwise. jaehyun radiates energy, the kind that makes you wonder if he’s ever known a moment of stillness in his life.

“uh… where do i sign?” you ask, shifting slightly on your feet.

jaehyun tilts his head. “sign what?”

“for the membership,” you clarify, fingers fidgeting at the hem of your sleeve, as if grounding yourself will somehow make the nerves dissipate.

“oh! right!” his sudden exclamation startles you slightly, making you stiffen for a brief second before you let out a soft chuckle, trying to mask your embarrassment.

he grins, unfazed, before motioning for you to follow. as he guides you further into the headquarters, your gaze flits around, taking in the space, committing the details to memory.

the room is a blend of organized chaos—papers stacked in precarious piles, sticky notes clinging desperately to the edges of computer screens, bookshelves lined with past publications and reference materials. a group of students huddle over a laptop in one corner, their quiet murmurs blending into the background noise. across the room, another group chats animatedly, their laughter breaking through the otherwise mellow atmosphere.

but then, your eyes land on him.

a guy stands near the farthest desk, his posture relaxed yet focused. his fingers move effortlessly over the buttons of a sleek camera, adjusting the settings with practiced ease. strands of dark hair fall slightly over his forehead, catching the soft glow of the overhead lights. he doesn’t seem aware of the world around him, completely immersed in whatever he's doing.

his brows knit together as he checks the camera screen, lips slightly parted in concentration. you wonder what he sees through the lens—what kind of stories he captures, what moments he finds worthy enough to frame.

your gaze lingers for a second longer before you shake yourself out of it. you’ve barely been here for five minutes, and you're already getting distracted.

straightening your posture, you let out a quiet breath before returning your attention to jaehyun, who’s still talking about the club’s activities. but even as you listen, your thoughts briefly wander back to the boy with the camera.

for the whole day, you barely did anything related to broadcasting. no writing, no editing—just a long, hellish day of socializing.

it’s not that you hate people. they’re not necessarily annoying, and you don’t think you’re above conversation. but being around too many of them at once? exhausting. overwhelming. you’ve always preferred the quiet that comes with staying in your own bubble, away from the small talk and forced interactions.

but today, jaehyun had other plans for you. he made sure to drag you from one conversation to another, introducing you to every single person in the club, making sure you weren’t left standing in a corner by yourself. you were drowning in introductions, nodding and smiling so much your cheeks started to hurt. you had exchanged pleasantries, laughed at jokes you barely understood, and answered the same questions over and over—“what made you join the club?” “how do you like it so far?” “do you write news or more on the features side?”

by the time the day was coming to an end, all you wanted was to sink into the nearest chair and disappear.

“before we end today’s agenda, please gather up here,” jaehyun calls out, motioning everyone to the giant couch in the middle of the room.

the members shuffle around, some grabbing last-minute snacks, others dragging chairs closer. you, on the other hand, are just about ready to bolt out the door, but before you can even think about it, jaehyun’s eyes land on you.

“y/n, come up front.”

you freeze.

slowly, hesitantly, you step forward, hands clasped together in an attempt to steady yourself. socializing was one thing, but standing in front of a room full of strangers, being introduced like some kind of special guest? you weren’t prepared for this.

jaehyun, ever the extrovert, beams as he gestures toward you. “everyone, meet y/n! she’s our new writer, so be nice.”

a small round of polite applause follows, along with a few smiles and waves from the group. you manage a shy bow, offering a soft “hello” as your eyes flicker from face to face.

jaehyun, ever the diligent host, takes it upon himself to introduce you to the people you hadn't formally met yet. he points first to a pair sitting close together—

“this is belle and taesan, our main radio announcers. they basically run the shows.”

belle gives you a friendly nod, while taesan grins and throws up a peace sign.

“woonhak and sungho—our sports feature writers. they’re also on the soccer team, so expect a lot of game recaps from them.”

the two boys flash matching smiles, exuding the kind of effortless confidence that only athletes seem to have.

“riwoo, our editorial writer. he basically keeps us from writing complete garbage.”

riwoo snorts at that, shaking his head as he offers you a knowing smile.

more names are thrown your way—ningning, winter, yuna, daehwi—all of them waving, all of them welcoming. the list seems never-ending, and you nod along, trying your best to commit at least a few of them to memory.

and then, finally, jaehyun points toward the last member.

your gaze follows his gesture until it lands on him.

“that’s leehan, our official photographer.”

he’s still where you last saw him, camera hanging around his neck, fingers lightly tapping against its frame. unlike the others, he doesn’t offer a wave or a smile. instead, he lifts his head just enough to glance at you. it’s brief—so brief you almost miss it—before he gives a small, polite bow and returns his attention to his camera.

“in this room full of extroverts, he’s an alien,” jaehyun murmurs, leaning toward you with a smirk.

you blink, tilting your head slightly. “why?”

jaehyun hums, crossing his arms. “he’s actually an extrovert by nature, but let’s just say… communication isn’t his strong suit.”

you glance back at leehan. he’s adjusting the settings on his camera now, looking through the viewfinder with a quiet kind of focus.

he doesn’t seem unfriendly. just… distant.

reserved.

like he exists just a little outside of the circle, never quite stepping in.

jaehyun chuckles, shaking his head. “he’s not as intimidating as he looks. he just sucks at talking to people.”

you nod slowly, gaze lingering on leehan for a moment longer. there’s something about him that piques your curiosity. maybe it’s the way he carries himself, the way he seems so immersed in his own world, separate from the lively chaos of the club.

or maybe it’s just the fact that, out of everyone you’ve met today, he’s the only one who hasn’t said a single word to you.

---

after the long and exhausting day of forced socializing, all you wanted was to go home, collapse onto your bed, and let the silence wash over you.

but, as luck would have it, the universe had other plans.

as soon as you step out into the parking lot, a sharp plop lands on your cheek. then another on your shoulder. before you can even register what’s happening, the sky opens up, and the rain comes down in heavy sheets, soaking the pavement in seconds.

shit.

you mutter a curse under your breath and break into a sprint, making a beeline for the nearest waiting shed. the cold raindrops cling to your skin, drenching your sleeves, your hair, the hem of your jeans. by the time you reach cover, you’re damp and shivering, rubbing your arms as you let out a tired sigh.

you shake the excess water from your hands, watching the rain crash against the asphalt. it’s relentless, the kind of downpour that could last for hours.

you exhale sharply. great. guess i’m stuck here.

as you wring out the sleeve of your jacket, you feel it—a light tap on your shoulder.

at first, you think it’s just a stray raindrop. you ignore it.

but then it happens again.

tap, tap, tap.

three soft, deliberate taps.

you turn around, eyebrows furrowing.

leehan.

he stands just behind you, his posture relaxed, a large blue umbrella held out in his hand.

you tilt your head, confused.

his expression remains unreadable, eyes flickering to yours before he nudges the umbrella toward you, silently insisting.

you blink.

he nudges it again.

hesitantly, you reach out, your fingers brushing against the smooth handle as you take it from him. the weight of it feels oddly significant, like an unspoken gesture heavier than words.

before you can even thank him, leehan has already moved.

he tugs his black marshall iv headphones back over his ears, slipping them into place as if retreating into his own world. then, in one swift motion, he pulls the hood of his jacket up and steps out into the rain.

you watch, stunned, as he takes off in a light jog, hands shoved into his pockets, head slightly ducked. he doesn’t even bother running properly—just moves at a leisurely pace, as if the rain isn’t drenching him head to toe. his free hand lifts above his head, fingers spread as if shielding himself from the downpour.

as if that’s going to make a difference.

you scoff, shaking your head.

so, he’s leehan.

quiet. distant. unreadable. but unexpectedly thoughtful.

you look down at the umbrella in your hands, running your fingers over the fabric. it’s slightly worn, the handle warm from where he held it.

a small, almost amused smile tugs at your lips.

maybe today wasn’t all bad.

---

when everyone in the club loved to chat or do anything that a typical extrovert would do, you’d find yourself slumped on the worn-out sofa in the farthest corner of the journalism office, tucked away from the noise. the room was always bustling with energy—voices overlapping, laughter echoing off the walls, the faint hum of computers in the background. yet, in your little corner, it felt like the world was muted, and you found comfort in that.

it’s been a week since you joined the broadcasting club, and you were surprised at how much you were enjoying it. their slogan promised a peaceful atmosphere, and while that wasn’t entirely accurate—there was always some level of chaos—it was still the perfect place to escape without affecting your class schedule. the best part? you could stay inside the broadcasting headquarters as long as you liked, surrounded by shelves crammed with old tapes, stacks of forgotten scripts, and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. it felt like a secret sanctuary, and you were slowly getting attached to it.

you were curled up on the sofa, legs folded beneath you as you held a haruki murakami book, fingers lightly gripping a pen that danced along the pages as you scribbled little notes in the margins. the words on the paper seemed to blur at times as your mind wandered, losing focus just to drift back with a renewed curiosity. occasionally, you’d lift your gaze, letting your imagination fill the room, painting scenes inspired by the story in your head.

your eyes drifted to the water dispenser, the hum of the cooling unit blending into the background noise. and that’s when you saw him—leehan, standing by the dispenser, his hair slightly tousled, fingers tapping impatiently against his cup as he waited for the water to fill.

the blue umbrella.

shit. you forgot his umbrella, and it’s been a week since that rainy day when you borrowed it. you pressed your palm to your forehead, feeling the embarrassment flood in. you promised yourself right then—you’d definitely bring it tomorrow. no more excuses.

the next morning, you arrived at the broadcasting headquarters earlier than usual, the blue umbrella clutched tightly in your hand. the sky outside was still a soft gray, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. inside, the familiar hum of equipment and faint chatter greeted you. a few early birds were already scattered around, their sleepy good mornings exchanged as you made your way through the room. your eyes instinctively searched for him, and you didn’t have to look far.

leehan was at the coffee table, a book in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other, his posture relaxed as his eyes skimmed over the pages. the soft glow from the window cast a golden hue on his face, and for a moment, you stood frozen, unsure of what to say—or if you should say anything at all.

you approached him quietly, your footsteps light against the worn floorboards. when you were standing in front of him, you didn’t bother with words. instead, you gently tapped his shoulder, just like he did that day when he handed you the umbrella without a single word. his eyes flicked up, widening in surprise as they met yours.

before he could say anything, you held out the umbrella, your fingers brushing his for the briefest moment before you quickly pulled away. his lips parted, as if to say something, but you were already turning on your heels, leaving the room before he could respond. you didn’t even know why you were rushing, heart pounding as you disappeared down the hallway.

and yet, no matter how far you tried to run, you couldn’t escape the fact that leehan was everywhere. it started to feel like he was haunting you, always showing up in the same places, always close but never speaking. like now, for example.

you were curled up in your favorite corner, the ancient sofa sagging beneath your weight as you tapped your pen against the pages of your notebook. you’d been staring at the same sentence for what felt like an eternity, words tangled in your mind, refusing to form coherent thoughts. but your distraction wasn’t just because of writer’s block.

across the room, leehan was there, again. his camera rested in his hands, fingers absentmindedly adjusting the lens. he wasn’t taking any pictures, just fiddling with the settings, eyes occasionally flicking up before quickly looking away. you wondered if he knew you noticed. if he realized how obvious he was.

this wasn’t the first time.

last week, you were in the library, wedged between two dusty shelves, lost in an old poetry book. the rhythmic patter of rain against the windows created a soothing melody, and you were fully immersed in the words until a faint presence disrupted your peace. you looked up, and there he was—one aisle over, his eyes skimming book titles, fingers trailing along the spines without actually pulling any out. you turned a page. he turned a page. you sighed and scribbled a note. he shifted his weight, adjusting the strap of his camera bag. it was almost like you were synced, even though neither of you said a word.

then there was that time at the coffee station, a cramped little corner of the student center where people squeezed past each other with hurried apologies. you were pouring cream into your cup, watching the swirling white cloud mix with the coffee’s dark brown. you felt him before you saw him—standing just behind you, close enough for you to feel his presence, but not close enough to touch.

you didn’t turn around. you didn’t have to. you moved aside, and he stepped forward, reaching for a sugar packet. his movements were slow, deliberate, the crinkle of the packet tearing breaking the silence between you. you knew he liked exactly one sugar in his coffee because you had seen him do this before, every time you ran into him here. he stirred his cup slowly, his eyes never meeting yours, but his presence was heavy, lingering in the air long after you walked away.

and now, once again, he was here, in the broadcasting headquarters, across from you with his camera in hand. neither of you spoke. the silence felt heavy, charged with something unspoken, the distance between you feeling smaller than it actually was. you wondered if he knew how many times you noticed him. if he realized that he was becoming a constant in your day, an unspoken presence that you were starting to expect.

leehan’s gaze shifted, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before he looked back at his camera, his fingers continuing to fiddle with the lens. you quickly looked away, pretending to be lost in your notebook again, the pen tapping against the paper as your heart raced.

---

the quietness with the both you started shifting when he saw you at the couch, sitting during one break, reading one of the books he was into—fishes.

slowly, leehan approached, standing near the arm of the couch, his fingers tightening slightly around the strap of his camera bag.

“t-that’s a cool book.” he said just enough for you to hear.

“yes, i love reading this every now and then,” you blinked. 

“you… like fishes?” he looked just as surprised as you felt, like he hadn’t really planned on speaking.

for a second, you only stared at each other. then, you nodded and smiled.

“i have some,” you murmured, voice quieter than the bustling room around you.

his eyebrows lifted slightly. “some?”

you hesitated, then closed the book halfway, your fingers still keeping your place. “i have six. a small tank in my apartment.”

leehan blinked, and then, before he could stop himself, he sat down on the opposite end of the couch.

“what kind?”

there was something about the way he asked, like he actually cared about the answer. you shifted slightly, feeling the couch dip with his added weight.

“a mix… two bettas, a couple of neon tetras, and some corydoras.”

leehan exhaled, a soft, amused sound that almost resembled a laugh. “you really know your fish.”

you shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “i just think they’re interesting.”

“you have fish, too?”

leehan leaned back slightly, nodding. “yeah… a planted tank. mostly rasboras and shrimp.”

for the first time, the quiet between you wasn’t just comfortable—it was expectant, like something unspoken had shifted.

“how do you keep shrimp alive?” you asked after a moment, genuinely curious. “mine never last longer than a few weeks.”

he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “it’s all about the water parameters. i can show you sometime if you want.”

it was a simple offer, but it felt bigger than that.

you nodded, tucking your legs under you. “i’d like that.”

and just like that, the conversation flowed.

for hours, you talked. about fish, about aquariums, about the best water conditions and tank setups.

leehan was in awe.

he had never talked this much before. never felt this comfortable.

since that day, something quietly shifted between you and leehan.

it wasn’t sudden, nothing dramatic. just subtle changes—small, unspoken gestures that gradually became routine.

like how he’d now linger near the couch during breaks, pretending to scroll through his camera or fiddle with his lenses, when you both knew he was waiting for you to sit down and talk.

and you did. you always did.

at first, it was just about fish. he’d bring books with colorful covers, filled with illustrations of vibrant aquatic life, and you’d pour over the pages together, sharing your thoughts, comparing notes.

once, he showed up with a tiny container. fish food.

“try it,” he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

you crinkled your nose. “are you crazy?”

“it’s not that bad,” he argued, leaning back against the couch with a casual shrug. “just a little salty.”

you stared at the container, hesitating. “you’ve tried it before?”

his lips curved into a small, almost playful smile. “curiosity got the best of me.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “i’ll pass.”

he just grinned, tucking the container back into his bag. “suit yourself. give some for your fishes though.”

it wasn’t always about fish, though. sometimes, it was about journalism.

he’d ask about your writing—your ideas, your process, what you wanted to bring to the broadcasting club. you’d stumble over your words at first, unused to someone showing such genuine interest. but leehan was patient, his quiet encouragement coaxing you out of your shell.

one afternoon, he found you struggling with an article, your laptop open and your fingers frozen above the keyboard.

“stuck?” he asked, his voice low and soft.

you exhaled, leaning back with a groan. “i don’t know how to start this.”

leehan glanced at the screen, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned in closer. “just write the first thing that comes to mind. you can always edit it later.”

“easy for you to say,” you muttered. “you’re just clicking a button. i have to actually make sense.”

he rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched with amusement. “you think photography is that easy?”

you shrugged, teasing. “pretty much.”

he shot you a mock glare, then grabbed his camera, holding it out to you. “here. let’s see you take a decent shot then.”

you hesitated, fingers brushing against the cold metal. “i don’t know how to use this.”

“i’ll teach you.”

and he did.

he showed you how to adjust the settings, how to find the right angle, how to capture light and shadow. his voice was patient, his hands occasionally guiding yours, his touch warm and careful.

you ended up taking a picture of a half-empty cup of coffee, the light from the window hitting it just right. it was a terrible shot, the focus all wrong, the composition awkward.

but leehan looked at it like it was something special.

“not bad,” he said softly. “you’ve got an eye for this.”

you tried to ignore the way his words made your heart flutter.

then there was the day he showed you his portfolio.

“it’s nothing special,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed, as he handed you his tablet.

you started scrolling, taking in shot after shot—landscapes drenched in golden light, candid moments of laughter, the vibrant energy of city streets. his photos were alive, bursting with emotion and movement.

“leehan,” you breathed, eyes wide with awe. “these are... incredible.”

he ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “thanks.”

then you saw it.

you almost scrolled past it, but something made you stop. it was a shot of the broadcasting club room, sunlight filtering through the window, the warm glow wrapping around a familiar figure.

you.

your profile turned to the side, a small, thoughtful smile playing on your lips as you scribbled something in your notebook. your hair fell gently over your shoulder, your expression soft and serene.

your heart skipped a beat. “w-when did you take this?”

leehan froze. his eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. “oh... uh... that... i was just testing the lighting, and you were there, and...” he trailed off, clearly flustered. his cheeks turned a light shade of pink, and he looked away, suddenly very interested in his shoes.

you tried to keep your voice steady, tried to ignore the heat creeping up your own cheeks. “it’s... a good shot.”

he glanced at you, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to gauge your reaction. “really?”

you nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “yeah. you’re really good at this.”

for a second, he just stared at you, his expression softening, his shoulders relaxing. then he looked away, his ears tinged red. “thanks...”

after that, things changed—just a little.

he started showing you more of his photos, and sometimes, you’d catch glimpses of yourself in them. blurry, candid shots. nothing posed, nothing intentional. just stolen moments.

you never asked why. and he never explained.

but slowly, leehan’s presence became a constant in your life.

he’d seek you out during breaks, sitting across from you at the couch, sometimes talking, sometimes just existing quietly beside you.

other times, you’d find him standing outside the broadcasting club room, his hands tucked in his pockets, waiting for you without saying a word. you’d walk out together, your footsteps falling in sync, a comfortable silence wrapping around you both.

and then there were the little things.

like the way he’d slide over an extra bottle of water when he noticed yours was empty. or how he’d subtly adjust the window blinds so the sunlight wouldn’t glare on your laptop screen.

or how he’d hold out his hand when you were struggling with carrying too many things at once, his fingers brushing against yours just for a second before he took the burden off your hands.

you never talked about these moments. never addressed the way his gaze would linger a little too long, or how your heart would race whenever he was close.

it was slow, a delicate dance of stolen glances and soft smiles, of shared silences and unspoken words.

but somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, you and leehan were getting closer.

---

what you had with leehan wasn’t loud. it didn’t demand attention, didn’t clamor to be seen or heard. it was quiet, gentle, almost delicate in its existence. but it was yours.

it started as something small. something almost insignificant.

maybe it was the way your eyes flickered to the door more often than they should, a subtle glance that betrayed the anticipation curling in your stomach. you weren’t waiting for him, not really. but some part of you hoped. hoped that, maybe, leehan would show up, like he always did.

and then, like clockwork, the door creaked open.

your head lifted before you could stop yourself, heart skipping just a little when you saw him step inside. he was balancing a cup of fruit in one hand, a fork in the other, a piece of pineapple poised between his lips. his hair was slightly tousled, like he had run his fingers through it on his way over, and his eyes crinkled as they met yours.

he waved, the motion casual, easy. “hey,” he mumbled around the fruit before quickly chewing and swallowing.

you tried to fight the smile threatening to break free but failed miserably. “hey.”

he walked over, dropping his camera bag onto the chair with a soft thud, the familiar scent of his perfume trailing behind him. it was subtle, a delicate blend of something fresh and slightly woody, tinged with a sweetness that lingered in the air long after he had settled into his seat.

you tried not to notice. you really did.

but it was getting harder.

especially when you started noticing... everything.

like how he always had that cup of fruit with him. pineapple, melon, sometimes apple slices. you weren’t sure why it stood out to you, but it did. maybe it was because of the way he ate, with a sort of quiet focus, his eyes fixed on the cup, his brows drawing together just slightly. or maybe it was the way his lips would curve upwards every time he tasted something particularly sweet.

you’d never paid much attention to it before, but now it seemed like the most obvious thing in the world.

you filed the thought away, only for it to be replaced by something else.

like the way his voice dipped lower when he spoke in hushed tones, the words wrapping around you softly, lingering in the air long after he’d finished speaking. it was calming, a gentle rhythm that soothed even the most restless parts of you.

or the way he tilted his head when he listened, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that made you feel like the most important person in the room. he didn’t just hear you; he listened. truly listened. and somehow, that meant everything.

and then there were the little things, the ones that shouldn’t have mattered but did.

the mole in his neck, peeking out from the collar of his shirt. you weren’t even sure why your eyes kept drifting there, but they did, tracing the shape absently, memorizing the way it stood out against his skin.

or the way he laughed. soft and breathy, like he was trying to hold it back. but when something was really funny, his laugh would break free, louder, more genuine, and he’d immediately cover his face with his hand, his shoulders shaking with embarrassment. you found yourself wanting to hear that laugh more often, wanting to be the reason for it.

you didn’t realize you were staring until he looked up, his eyes meeting yours.

“what?” he asked, a curious smile playing at his lips.

you blinked, heat flooding your cheeks. “nothing,” you mumbled, quickly looking down at your notebook, pretending to be engrossed in whatever you were scribbling.

out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shrug, going back to his fruit, his foot lightly tapping against the leg of your chair.

and just like that, the world felt a little more grounded.

you didn’t know when it happened—when the quiet presence of leehan became something you looked forward to, something you anticipated without even realizing it. but it did.

because it wasn’t just the moments filled with conversation or laughter that you found yourself craving. it was the silences, too. the ones that stretched comfortably between you, where no words were needed because his presence was enough.

sometimes, you’d both be working on different things, the only sound in the room the soft clicking of keys or the scratch of a pen against paper. yet, you felt more at ease in those moments than you ever did surrounded by noise.

and it was strange—how easily he had slipped into your life, into your routine. how his presence felt natural, like he belonged there, across from you, his fruit cup balanced precariously on his knee as he scrolled through photos on his camera.

you didn’t question it. you were too afraid of what the answer might be.

so you let it be. let yourself notice the way his hair fell messily over his forehead, or the way his fingers drummed absently against the table when he was lost in thought.

let yourself memorize the subtle curve of his smile, the warmth in his gaze whenever he looked at you.

---

leehan had always been observant.

it was something his friends teased him about constantly, claiming he paid too much attention to things that didn’t matter. but to him, the small things did matter. they were what made up the fabric of his world, the tiny details that others overlooked but he found himself lingering on, almost obsessively.

like how the jaehyun, the club president always spun a pen between his fingers when he was deep in thought, his brows knitting together as he tried to piece together the next news segment.

or how the lights in the broadcast room flickered ever so slightly every few minutes, a barely noticeable glitch that seemed to go unnoticed by everyone but him. or how taesan would doodle absentmindedly in the margins of his notebook, his sketches chaotic but oddly charming. or how woonhak had this habit of humming under his breath whenever he was editing videos, the soft tune weaving through the air like a whisper.

leehan noticed all of it. every little thing.

but most of all, he noticed you.

he noticed how you always sat in the same spot on the worn-out couch, legs tucked under you, your body curled in a way that made you look smaller, softer. how you’d have a cup of coffee within reach, the steam curling upwards, and a piece of bread in your hand, nibbling on it absentmindedly as you reviewed scripts or edited recordings.

he noticed how your brows would furrow when you were focused, your nose scrunching just a little, and how your lips would part ever so slightly when you were deep in thought. he noticed how you’d occasionally hum under your breath, a quiet melody that you probably didn’t even realize you were singing.

he noticed the way your hair would fall messily over your face, how you’d push it back absentmindedly, fingers brushing against your cheek with a sort of careless grace that made his chest tighten. he noticed how your eyes would light up when you laughed, the way your shoulders would relax, your entire body leaning into the joy as if nothing else in the world mattered in that moment.

and he noticed the way his heart would stutter every single time.

leehan wanted to talk to you from the very first time he saw you.

it was the first day of the semester, and you had walked into the broadcast room, shoulders slightly hunched as if you were trying to make yourself smaller. you were wearing a faded sweatshirt, the sleeves too long and frayed at the edges, your hair a little messy, like you had rushed out the door without bothering to fix it. you had looked around the room, your gaze flickering nervously before settling on the couch, where you had sat down, curling into yourself like you were trying to disappear.

and that was when it happened.

his heart did this strange, stupid little flip, a fluttering that made him feel lightheaded and dizzy. he didn’t understand it, didn’t know why his chest suddenly felt tight or why his palms were getting clammy. all he knew was that he couldn’t look away.

he wanted to say something, anything, but his throat closed up, the words dying on his tongue. he wasn’t good with people—never had been. talking to someone new was hard enough, but talking to you felt impossible. because you were beautiful. painfully so. and that terrified him.

so he did nothing.

instead, he watched. quietly, carefully, from the corner of the room, his eyes drifting back to you every few seconds, his heart beating a little faster each time.

“dude, you’re staring again,” taesan muttered beside him, his voice low enough that no one else would hear. “it’s getting creepy.”

leehan tore his gaze away, heat rushing to his cheeks. “i’m not staring.”

taesan rolled his eyes. “right. and i’m practically your best friend, dude.” he nudged leehan’s shoulder, a teasing grin on his face. “just go talk to her already.”

“i can’t,” leehan mumbled, his eyes unconsciously drifting back to you. “i... i wouldn’t know what to say.”

“just say hi,” woonhak chimed in, leaning back in his chair. “it’s not rocket science.”

leehan’s stomach twisted at the thought. just the idea of walking up to you, of saying something and potentially making a fool of himself... it was enough to make his palms sweat.

“i’ll just... i’ll just wait,” he muttered, sinking lower in his seat. “for the right moment.”

taesan sighed. “you’ve been waiting for the right moment for months, dude. at this rate, you’ll graduate before you even say hi.”

leehan didn’t respond. because taesan was right. he had been waiting.

and waiting.

and waiting.

but the moment never came.

so he watched instead. and he noticed.

he noticed how you always showed up early, at least fifteen minutes before the rest of the team. how you’d settle into your spot on the couch, sipping your coffee slowly, your shoulders visibly relaxing as the room remained quiet and empty.

he noticed how you always brought a piece of bread, usually something simple—plain toast, a croissant, sometimes a muffin. you’d nibble on it absentmindedly, your eyes fixed on the papers in front of you, occasionally brushing crumbs off your lap.

he noticed how your handwriting was neat but slanted, the letters curving gracefully across the page. how you always underlined your titles twice, the lines perfectly straight, no ruler needed.

he noticed the way you laughed—soft, melodic, the kind of laugh that made his chest feel warm and tight all at once. how you’d cover your mouth when you laughed too hard, your shoulders shaking, eyes crinkling at the corners.

and he noticed how his heart would ache every single time.

“you’re hopeless,” taesan said one day, watching as leehan’s gaze followed you across the room.

leehan sighed, his shoulders slumping. “i know.”

“just talk to her, man,” taesan pressed. “what’s the worst that could happen?”

“everything,” leehan muttered.

at this point, his friends had stopped listening.

but he couldn’t stop. he couldn’t stop noticing you, couldn’t stop wanting to be near you, to talk to you, to make you laugh. he couldn’t stop his heart from racing every time you looked his way, even if it was just for a second.

he couldn’t stop the way his chest tightened when he saw you smile, or the way his mind would go blank whenever you were close enough for him to catch the faint scent of your shampoo.

he couldn’t stop falling for you, even if you didn’t have a clue.

but then one day, everything changed.

it was break time, and leehan was heading toward the coffee station when he saw you.

sitting on the couch.

with his book.

well, not his book, but the book. the national geographic book about fishes. the one he had practically lived in as a kid, flipping through the pages until he had every fish species memorized.

his breath hitched. his hands clenched. his mind went into overdrive.

she likes that book? does that mean she likes fishes? what if it’s just random? what if—

he caught himself before spiraling. no. he needed to act normal. he needed to breathe.

step. step. breathe.

before he could fully comprehend it, he was standing right in front of you. close enough to see the delicate curve of your eyelashes, the way your fingers gently held the pages.

his lips parted, his voice coming out shakier than he wanted. “t-that’s a cool book.” just loud enough for you to hear.

you looked up.

oh. oh god.

leehan swore his heart stopped. just for a moment, he saw the gates of heaven when your eyes met. there was a pause, long enough for the world to blur around the edges, leaving only you in perfect focus.

“yes, i love reading this every now and then,” you blinked, looking up at him through those impossibly pretty eyes.

his mind went blank. completely, utterly blank. then, somehow, words tumbled out. “you… like fishes?” he sounded as stunned as he felt, like his mouth was moving before his brain could catch up.

you stared at him, and he could feel his pulse racing, each beat echoing in his chest. then, you nodded, a small smile forming on your lips.

“i have some,” you said softly, your voice delicate, almost shy.

leehan’s heart did a weird little flip. “some?”

you hesitated, closing the book halfway but keeping your fingers in place. “i have six. a small tank in my apartment.”

leehan’s eyes widened, and before he could stop himself, he sat down on the other end of the couch. he needed to be closer, needed to hear more.

“what kind?”

his voice was soft, almost reverent, like he was asking about something sacred. because to him, it was. you were.

you shifted, and leehan felt the slight dip of the couch, felt the warmth of your presence. “a mix… two bettas, a couple of neon tetras, and some corydoras.”

he let out a breath, a sound that was almost a laugh, his heart feeling light in a way he didn’t know it could. “you really know your fish.”

you shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips. “i just think they’re interesting.”

god, he wanted to bottle that smile and keep it forever.

“you have fish, too?”

leehan leaned back just enough to look at you fully, his eyes taking in every detail. “yeah… a planted tank. mostly rasboras and shrimp.”

your eyes sparkled with curiosity. “how do you keep shrimp alive? mine never last longer than a few weeks.”

he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “it’s all about the water parameters. i can show you sometime if you want.”

the words were out before he could think, hanging in the air between you. he held his breath, waiting, hoping.

your eyes softened, your lips curving into that gentle smile again. “i’d like that.”

leehan felt his heart swell, warmth spreading through his chest. he could’ve floated right off that couch.

and then, as if some invisible barrier had shattered, the conversation flowed. effortlessly, beautifully.

you talked about fish, about aquariums, about water conditions and tank setups. your voice was like music, your laughter light and airy, filling every corner of his heart.

he was completely, utterly captivated.

leehan couldn’t believe how easy it was, how natural it felt. he had never talked this much before, never felt this comfortable. but with you, words just came.

he was falling. hard. and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

not that he wanted to.

---

“hey, are you listening?” you snapped him back to reality. stopping him from literally reliving the past mid-conversation.

he stared at you, and blinked, heat rushing to his cheeks. had he been staring? he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “y-yeah, of course. i still think the joel and clementine deserved a second or third chance...”

 you have been talking about movies for the past hours and it's just so that you got to talking about eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.

 you laughed, and the sound was so soft, so genuine, that it made his heart skip. “we moved past that like five minutes ago.”

 “oh,” he mumbled, feeling utterly stupid. “right… yeah, i knew that.” you shook your head, amused.

“you’re kind of weird, you know that?”

“yeah,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck, a sheepish smile forming. “i get that a lot.” he expected you to laugh again, to make another teasing remark, but instead, your expression softened. 

“it’s… kind of cute.”

leehan’s heart stopped.

did you just call him cute?

he replayed the words in his head, over and over, trying to convince himself he hadn’t imagined it. the way you looked at him, eyes warm and gentle, the smallest smile on your lips—he was sure he was dreaming.

“w-what?” he stammered, his voice embarrassingly high-pitched. he cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. “i mean… really?”

you shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but the slight pink on your cheeks didn’t go unnoticed. “yeah, in a weird, clueless kind of way.”

“oh.” his heart was racing, pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it. “well… thanks, i guess?”

you smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through clouds, warm and dazzling. “you’re welcome.”

leehan swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of the tiny space between you on the couch. he could feel the warmth radiating from you, could smell the faint scent of your perfume. it was intoxicating.

“so… um,” he started, desperately searching for a topic to break the tension that had settled between you, but his mind was blank. “you, uh… you never told me who your favorite character was.”

you looked at him, surprised. “from eternal sunshine?”

he nodded, grateful his voice didn’t crack. “yeah. you said you liked the movie, but you never said why.”

you tilted your head, your eyes drifting to the ceiling as you thought. “i think… i think it’s joel. he’s awkward and complicated, and he overthinks everything. but he feels everything so deeply, even when he tries not to.”

leehan’s breath caught. it was like you were describing him.

he wanted to say something, to tell you how much he understood, how he also overthought everything, how he was feeling everything so intensely right now it almost hurt. but the words wouldn’t come.

“what about you?” you asked, your voice gentle. “who’s your favorite?”

he looked at you, his chest tightening. “joel,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours. “definitely joel.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke. the air was thick with something unspoken, something electric. leehan could feel his heart racing, his palms growing sweaty.

then you looked away, breaking the spell. “yeah… he’s great.”

leehan swallowed, realizing he had been holding his breath. he let it out slowly, trying to calm the storm inside him.

you leaned back against the couch, eyes drifting to the book he let you borrow, resting on your lap. “you really know a lot about fish,” you murmured, your fingers tracing the spine absentmindedly. “i never would’ve guessed.”

leehan smiled, his heart fluttering at the way you said it, like you were genuinely curious. “yeah… it was kind of my whole life growing up. i used to spend hours reading about them, watching documentaries… i even had this imaginary aquarium business when i was a kid.”

you laughed, the sound bright and warm, and leehan felt his chest tighten. “really?”

he nodded, his cheeks flushing. “yeah… i’d make these little paper tanks and pretend to sell them to my stuffed animals.”

you laughed even harder, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “that’s… that’s adorable.”

adorable.

his heart skipped. he wanted to hear you say it again, wanted to make you laugh like that a thousand more times.

he looked away, his face burning. “yeah, well… i was a weird kid.”

“i think that’s sweet,” you said softly, your voice gentle. “you were passionate, even then.”

leehan’s heart thudded in his chest. how were you doing this to him? how were you turning his most embarrassing childhood stories into something beautiful?

“i… i guess so,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

you smiled, your eyes lingering on him a moment longer before you looked down at the book. “you know, i’ve had this book for years, but i never really understood half of what’s in here. maybe… maybe you could teach me sometime?”

leehan’s eyes widened, his heart leaping. “r-really? i mean, yeah! yeah, i’d love to.”

“cool,” you said, your smile soft, almost shy. “i’d like that.”

leehan felt his heart swell, warmth flooding his chest. he wanted to memorize this moment, to etch every detail into his mind. the way your hair fell softly over your shoulder, the way your eyes sparkled when you looked at him, the way you said you wanted to spend more time with him.

he fell. hard. he fell so bad he swore that you could hear his heart beating maniacally because of you.

---

it was a saturday morning, lazy morning for the whole broadcasting club, and you? you have other plans to spend this lazy saturday.

you found him in the broadcasting room, hunched over the soundboard with his brows furrowed, headphones around his neck. his fingers moved expertly over the controls, adjusting levels with a focused determination that made your heart skip.

you hesitated at the door, gripping the edges of your notebook, your palms clammy. asking him to watch a documentary shouldn’t be this hard, right? it was just… a documentary. about fishes. something you figured he’d like. nothing weird about that.

so why were your hands shaking?

“you gonna stand there all day?”

you jumped, heat rushing to your cheeks as you looked up to see taesan leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a lazy grin on his lips. his eyes sparkled with mischief, like he knew exactly why you were hesitating.

“i-i was just…” you stammered, struggling to come up with an excuse, but taesan only raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

“leehan’s in there, you know.” he jerked his head towards the room. “and he’s been staring at that soundboard for the past hour. pretty sure he could use a distraction.”

your heart fluttered at the thought, and before you could second-guess yourself, you took a deep breath and walked inside.

leehan looked up at the sound of the door, his eyes widening slightly when he saw you. “oh… hey.”

“h-hi.” you cursed yourself for stuttering. get it together. “i… um… i wanted to ask you something.”

his eyebrows lifted, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “yeah?”

you opened your mouth, the words on the tip of your tongue, but they refused to come out. your mind went blank, and all you could do was stand there, staring at him like an idiot.

leehan shifted, a hint of pink coloring his cheeks. “is… is something wrong?”

“no! no, nothing’s wrong,” you blurted, heat flooding your face. “i just… um…” you looked down, your fingers twisting nervously. “i found this documentary. about fishes. and… and i thought… maybe… you’d want to watch it… with me?”

there. you did it. you actually did it.

the silence that followed was deafening. you forced yourself to look up, panic bubbling in your chest when you saw the way his eyes widened, his lips parted in shock.

oh god. this was a mistake. this was a huge mistake. you shouldn’t have asked. you should’ve just watched it by yourself—

“i-i mean, you don’t have to,” you rushed to add, waving your hands frantically. “it’s totally fine if you’re busy or not interested or—”

“no!” his voice came out louder than intended, his eyes widening in horror at his own outburst. he cleared his throat, his shoulders hunching as he looked down, his fingers fidgeting. “i… i mean… i’d like to. watch it. with you. i… i’d like that a lot.”

your heart skipped, hope flaring in your chest. “really?”

he looked up, his eyes softening as he nodded. “yeah. it sounds… fun.”

a smile spread across your lips before you could stop it, relief washing over you. “o-okay. great. um… during break time, then?”

“yeah.” his lips curved into a small, shy smile, his fingers fiddling with the headphone cord. “during break.”

you nodded, your heart pounding. “okay. cool. um… see you then.”

“y-yeah.” his eyes lingered on you as you turned to leave, and you swore you could feel his gaze on your back long after you walked out.

the moment you were out of sight, you leaned against the wall, your knees weak. did that… did that just happen? did he really say yes?

“well, that was cute.”

you jumped, whipping around to see jaehyun leaning against the lockers, arms crossed and an infuriatingly smug grin on his face.

taesan stood next to him, his own smirk firmly in place. “didn’t know watching fish could be so romantic,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

your face burned. “shut up,” you muttered, hugging your notebook to your chest as you tried to walk past them, but they blocked your path, their grins widening.

“honestly, it was painful to watch,” jaehyun drawled, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. “i almost went in there myself just to ask him for you.”

“good thing you didn’t,” taesan added, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “i was enjoying the show.”

you glared at them, but they only laughed, clearly amused by your embarrassment. “you guys are the worst.”

“maybe,” taesan admitted, shrugging, “but at least we’re not the ones hopelessly crushing on leehan.”

your jaw dropped, heat rushing to your face. “i-i’m not—”

“sure, you’re not,” jaehyun said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “and leehan totally wasn’t staring at you like a lovesick puppy the entire time you were in there.”

you froze, your heart lurching. “h-he was…?”

jaehyun’s grin widened. “yep. absolutely whipped.”

taesan chuckled, crossing his arms. “you two are so obvious, it’s painful.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out. because deep down, a part of you hoped they were right.

---

the room was quiet, save for the hum of the old tv and the soft narration of the documentary. the dim light from the screen cast a gentle glow on your face, illuminating the spark of excitement in your eyes.

leehan couldn’t look away. he was supposed to be watching the documentary—supposed to be fascinated by the vibrant corals and the graceful dance of the fishes—but all he could see was you.

you leaned forward, eyes wide with wonder as the camera followed a school of angelfish gliding through the water. “look at that,” you whispered, your voice tinged with awe. “they’re so beautiful.”

leehan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “yeah… beautiful.”

he wasn’t talking about the fish.

your shoulder brushed against his as you shifted closer, and his breath hitched. the contact was barely there, just the slightest touch, but it sent electricity down his spine. he fought the urge to lean in, to close the distance between you, to feel your warmth against him.

his fingers twitched, ghosting over yours. he wondered what would happen if he took your hand, if he dared to intertwine his fingers with yours. would you pull away? would you look at him with that soft, curious smile? would you let him hold on, just for a little while?

his heart raced at the thought, his chest tightening painfully.

he didn’t dare.

“you’re quiet today,” you murmured, turning to look at him. your face was so close, your eyes searching his. “are you… are you okay?”

leehan blinked, realizing he had been staring. heat rushed to his cheeks, and he quickly looked away, eyes glued to the screen. “y-yeah. just… just focused on the documentary.”

you tilted your head, studying him. “you must really like this, huh?”

“yeah,” he said, his voice softer than he intended. “i… i like watching it with you.”

the words slipped out before he could stop them. his eyes widened, his heart freezing in his chest. he dared a glance at you, panicking when he saw the way your eyes widened.

but then, slowly, a smile spread across your lips. “me too,” you whispered, your voice so soft he almost didn’t hear it. “i like watching this with you, too.”

his heart skipped, his breath catching in his throat. was this real? were you really looking at him like that, your eyes warm and gentle, your lips curved into that beautiful smile?

he was dreaming. he had to be dreaming.

the documentary continued, the narrator’s voice droning on about coral reefs and marine ecosystems, but leehan couldn’t focus. not when you were this close, not when he could feel your shoulder brushing against his, your warmth seeping into him.

you shifted, your head tilting to rest against his shoulder, your hair brushing his neck. he froze, his entire body going rigid.

you were leaning on him. your head was on his shoulder.

he didn’t dare move. he barely dared to breathe.

he could feel his heart pounding, his pulse racing as he slowly turned his head, eyes wide as he looked down at you. your eyes were still fixed on the screen, a peaceful smile on your lips, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside him.

he wanted to stay like this forever.

“you know,” you murmured, your voice soft, “i think this is my favorite documentary.”

he smiled, his heart swelling with warmth. “yeah… me too.”

he had watched this documentary a hundred times, knew every line by heart, but this was the first time it felt so special. because he was watching it with you.

your fingers twitched, brushing against his. it was barely a touch, just the lightest graze, but it sent his heart spiraling.

he looked down, his breath catching as he watched your fingers, so close to his own. his heart raced, his mind screaming at him to just reach out, to take your hand, to hold on.

his fingers moved, slowly, hesitantly, until they were resting against yours, his pinky brushing against your own.

you didn’t pull away.

leehan’s heart stopped.

your fingers curled, just the slightest bit, brushing against his. it was so subtle, so delicate, but it was enough.

he looked at you, his eyes wide, his heart in his throat. you didn’t look at him, your gaze still fixed on the screen, but there was a soft smile on your lips, so small he almost missed it.

his heart pounded, his chest tightening painfully. he wanted to say something, to tell you how much this meant to him, how much you meant to him, but the words wouldn’t come.

so he stayed silent, his fingers brushing against yours, his heart racing.

and as the documentary continued, as the narrator’s voice filled the room, leehan knew he was completely, hopelessly, undeniably in love.

and for now, this was enough.

© hancorys, 2025.

[casedeviant]

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𓋰 ╭ 18+ ╮ top male reader & afab toji fushiguro ⓘ ﹙ tattooist reader & mafia toji ﹚pussy eating . tongue piercing . squirting . p in v . degradation . pregnancy threat . humiliation . cervix fucking

thinking very long and hard about how good pussy from an older man like mafia boss!toji would taste, running the flat of your tongue over the expanse of his folds that has your silver piercing catching against his fat clit.

it doesn’t matter what body proportions you are to him, that never stopped you from hooking the backs of his knees over your shoulders and devouring his hairy cunt in one good serving.

it always ended up this way too, with him desperately holding his thighs in place against his chest as you worked him open with your mouth and fingers. he’d often find sanction in your hair when you explore his insides, squirting like a fucking water fountain as you lock eyes with him from below, fondling that sweet and tender spot of his walls that has him seeing stars.

“does this mean we finally kissed after all your rejecting?”

he really thinks its some kind of torture how easily you can get him riled up, when you never knew how cute it was seeing an older gentleman such as himself get all flustered over a little bit of oral action.

toji brings his arms up to cover the cherry-red expression on face, his legs sprawled out in a frog position while his cunt drooled with his sticky essence. now that he really thinks about it, maybe it was a terrible idea getting a tattoo in the vicinity of his genitals. he’s always been unregarding to how sensitive that area is, and you didn’t even need to fuck him with your mouth or fingers to get him squirting first.

the pain alone was enough. how embarrassing.

“fuck!” he breathes out a puff of humiliation, chest sweaty and heaving.

as his vision closes off from reality, he conjures up the type of facial expressions you’re making at him right now. were they derogatory? condescending? pitiful? genuine concern for what you just put him through?

definitely not.

however, all he can recall from memory is that constant sharp-set look on your countenance whenever you even lay eyes on him; he’s not quite sure how to explain it, but it makes his insides flutter and his clit throb. he’ll never be satisfied after a good oral session either, that’s why you always end up balls deep inside his puffy cunt by the end of it anyway.

there’s a moment of silence before he inhales a sharp gasp when you rub something against his folds. he moves his arms up, stationing them just above his head as he looks down at where you are rubbing your cock head.

“so fucking sexy…” you breathe out, hips jutting forward as you slip past his opening repeatedly that bumps against the bundle of nerves above it. when you slightly push through that stretchy set of muscles, he lets out a very shaky whine when you pull back out.

“should i breed this pretty pussy of yours too?”

a sudden wave of panic mixed with arousal washes over him at that.

“n-no… are ya fuckin’ stupid?”

you continue to rub yourself against him and then look over with a possessive grin on your lips. you then proceed to flip him over onto his stomach, crawling onto the tattoo bed as you line yourself up with his front hole.

when you slide in, his knees bend in the air, and his asshole flutters, compelling you to stick half of your thumb inside.

“oh fuck-” he groans, clawing at nothing but the leather below him.

“are you sure you’re here just to get inked by me and nothing more? i’m starting to believe this old man needs a cheap and crummy way to release all that pent up anger.”

you finally bottom out, pressing your hips flush against his ass, your finger still in his back entrance. you tower over him, holding his face up to you by the chin and watching how fucked out he looks. his stubble scratches against the pads of your fingers as you try and discern what he is thinking.

“hmm”, your lips turn downward into a derogatory manner, “how pitiful.” words lacing with sarcasm.

“what do you think the rest of the syndicate would do if they found out their boss had such a nice and fertile pussy? i’m merely a tattooist, yet you really had to go provoking someone as boring as me anyways. i could get you done for sexual harassment, y’know”

you really took the words out of his mouth – he was left speechless, and it didn’t help either that you were pressing painfully against his cervix. he lets out an ugly noise, something similar to a cry, with tears stinging in his eyes.

“f-fuck you… thats not what i-”

“but since you are so cute, i’ll give you a discount this time.” you pull back in a flash, fucking back into him and feeling his walls suddenly restrict around your shaft.

“if you keep being a good boy and spreading your legs for me, that is.”

[3amfanfiction]

Picture Perfect pt 2

Captain MacTavish's faulty memory leads him to believe you're his wife. He's come to bring you home.

cw: 2.7k, f!reader (he refers to you as 'wife'), home appropriation, unwelcome guests, abrupt ending

Part One

Johnny stared at the list in his hand and chuckled. It was filled with mundane items—hang up the shelf in the closet, fridge is making weird sounds, kitchen sink drains slow—and he knew immediately what your plan was. It was almost cute how you thought a little honey-do list was going to scare him away. As if he hadn't been looking for you for ages. As if he had any intention of letting you slip through his fingers now that you were within his grasp.

Turning to look at you he let a smile brighten his face, "It looks like we have quite a bit to do today, don't we?" He watched you squirm in place, shoulders straightening and rounding in intervals as you fought with yourself. You were so precious trying to act all tough. But not to worry. He was here now and he could be plenty tough for the both of you.

"I can take care of it if you want to go home," you tried, a spark of hope lighting up your pretty eyes at the prospect of him leaving. He watched your chin tilt up, a hint of stubbornness shining through before it was smothered once more.

What a perfect wife you were. He still wasn't sure why you had separated but it didn't matter anymore. Watching you try and act strong, try and convince him it was in his best interest to leave, was heady. He wanted to soak it all in. Every moment. Eat you up until there was nothing but bones remaining and then suck the marrow from them as well. And you thought drains were going to scare him away? It was laughable.

"And leave all this for you to take care of? What kind of husband would I be?" He watched your face fall at his response and almost broke out laughing. You'd never make it as a spy with every thought that went through your head on full display across your face. Endearing. "Come on, lets get started on this shelf."

You trudged after him with a dejected sigh as he walked towards the hallway, peeking through doors until he came to your bedroom. Taking a step inside he was hit by a wave of your scent, so much more concentrated in this room than it was throughout the rest of the house. He couldn't help the way his steps fumbled to a stop as he stood there and breathed you in, all the way to the bottom of his lungs.

How did you smell so good? He couldn't place the scent but it was burrowing into his brain, making a home between the synapses that were still firing. It was warm and light and welcoming and he couldn't get enough of it, taking deep, greedy drinks of it as he slotted the scent into the bucket he was quickly labeling 'home' in his mind.

Coming back to himself he stepped to the side to let you through the doorway. You inched past him, careful not to touch before directing him to your closet and the shelf that was sitting on the ground. He frowned at the distance you kept between the two of you, a there and gone expression as he made plans to ease you back into casual touch. This was no way for spouses to act.

"No one new in your life to help you get this set up?" he probed as he pulled out tools. He looked up at you from where he was crouched, peering at you with his best approximation of an honest question. You fought with yourself before answering—

—with a lie. "There's someone, he's just away on a business trip right now."

He'd done his due diligence before re-introducing himself into your life. Prior planning and all that shit. Price would've been so proud of him. He knew you were single. That you had been for a little while but had been making ends meet on your own. Truthfully this nebulous partner was better off not being around. Johnny was the bigger dog in this fight and he wasn't going to back down. You were his wife—for better or for worse.

"A business trip, huh?" he repeated, letting a hint of doubt color his tone while maintaining eye contact as you shifted on your feet. He held you in place for a moment more before releasing you graciously, "Well, I'll just have to meet him when he gets back."

"Ye-ah," you croaked, voice cracking on the word, "I'm sure he'd love that."

Johnny watched as you fought with yourself, trying to decide whether to stay and be subjected to his questions or leave him alone in your house. The need to keep an eye on him won out in the end. Better to know what he was doing than be blindsided at a later time.

You started with your walls firmly in place—raised and fortified against him and anything he could manage to say to sway you. But it was clear you hadn't been expecting the charm and easy way with words he had. He watched them poke holes in your defense. Each, you did that? garnering a bashful head nod. Every, this is really well done, love, lowering your reservations. One piece at a time. He used his words like weapons, precision strikes aimed at your guard, working towards softening you up to him. It was clear you hadn't taken into account his flirty nature when you were planning on keeping him at arms length.

The first half of the morning went by much the same. Conversation never ceasing although there were times you certainly wished it would. He had a way of knowing exactly what to ask to make you squirm and he exploited it with abandon, chasing your stuttering explanations and wide-eyed looks of panic. The first real hiccup came when he asked you to go to the hardware store with him around noon.

I think I'll stay here.

Nothing he could say would sway you, you were adamant about staying home. He even sweetened the pot—promising a questions for a question the whole ride, you could ask anything you'd like. But no. You wouldn't be going with him. You'd stay and wait.

He accepted your decision but that marked the end of the free-flowing information.

When he got back the conversations continued—he never was one to sit by quietly when he could be flirting with a beautiful person—but there was a marked difference from the conversations of the morning. No longer did he give you peeks at his history since you'd been gone. He kept those tightly buried and manipulated the conversations back around to you, keeping the focus off him.

He watched you get more and more frustrated with every run-around. Something close to glee bubbling up in his chest at your angry face, nose all scrunched up and brows furrowed. He wanted to kiss the little lines your frowning caused, pepper them all over your face if you'd let him until he came home to those lips he couldn't keep his eyes off of.

Soon.

He'd have you in his arms soon. He just had to hold out for the right time.

Even the mundane questions no longer got an answer. "Where'd you learn to do that?" you tried, watching the way he took apart your sink with an ease that betrayed his comfort with the task.

"Wanna learn yourself? Come here, I'll show you how it's done," he coaxed you closer to see what he was doing. "This bit here is where things get trapped. Always make sure to have a pan underneath to catch the run-off—"

It was so smoothly done that you never realized what he'd done. You likely wouldn't until you were thinking about your day once you were lying in bed.

By the time it was late afternoon and he was wrapping up for the day he had managed to learn quite a bit about you—your favorite food, your disdain of dusting, where you grew up—while you were limited to what you had gleaned that morning before the trip to the store.

"I'll be back tomorrow, aye? Same time as today and we'll keep knocking out that list," he said as he packed up his bag, cleaning up his leftover mess and turning to look at you once more.

You'd relaxed quite a bit throughout the day, your shoulders no longer up by your ears at the sight of him. It filled his belly with warmth at the thought of you softening up just for him. Showing your vulnerable underbelly. He wanted to see you relaxed underneath him in bed but that would wait for another day. He knew you weren't quite there yet but he was optimistic.

He remembered how you two used to be dynamic in bed. The sounds he could pull from you and the way your skin felt against his lips was burnt into his brain, something no bullet could take away. He looked forward to the day you'd let him re-learn your body, he was already more entranced with you now than he had been walking into this. Just goes to show he had great taste when choosing a spouse.

"You really don't have to," you tried, a hesitant look crossing your face. "You've already done so much today that I couldn't impose."

Impose. How funny.

"Nonsense, hen. I'll see you tomorrow."

And with that his hands darted out to cradle your jaw carefully between his warm, work-roughened hands as he tilted your face, leaning down to press slightly chapped lips to yours. They separated in a small gasp that he took advantage of eagerly. His tongue sliding inside to map the contours of your mouth, tongues tangling together.

After a moment he pulled back, leaving you panting and dazed, a far-away look in your eyes. With a smile he darted down to press one more kiss to your lips before stepping back, giving you room to breathe.

You came back to yourself quickly and cleared your throat with a, well then, before gesturing towards the door. He felt his heart expand in that moment, another piece of you that he would keep tucked away for himself. He made a vow to fluster you as often as he could just to get that look back on your face.

\\\

"And that's the last of it," you smiled at him from your position, crouched beside him as you held the light on the front stairs.

The week passed surprisingly quick with Johnny coming over ever day. You'd gotten to know him a little bit better each visit, his sense of humor coming to light easily but his reliability hiding behind layers that you were only starting to unearth the shape of.

After the first day and you turning him down on the drive to the store and the subsequent stonewall of information, you found yourself caving when he asked the next. Same rules as before—a question for a question while you were on the road. You'd like to say you held strong and told him where to stuff it but the truth is you capitulated embarrassingly fast. Yesterday's afternoon was a study of frustration when he refused to answer anything you asked. Even something as small as if he needed a certain tool got a run-around response as he got up to get it himself. It was beyond annoying.

You had stood on the porch that second day hesitantly, still not eager to give this stranger that much power over you just yet. But his offer meant maybe you'd get some of the answers you were looking for and so you found yourself giving in, caving in on your previous obstinacy.

Surely one ride wouldn't hurt.

You white-knuckled the entire trip there and back but nothing untoward happened. Johnny kept the conversation flowing as usual, asking you questions and offering up glimpses of himself when you inquired in turn. Pulling into the store he didn't let you try for the handle, jumping up to get around to your side before you'd even unbuckled your seatbelt, as if it would wound him if you were to open your own door.

You were slightly ashamed to admit it but you half thought he was going to steal you away as soon as you got into the vehicle. Drive and simply not stop, taking you wherever he wanted. However it was straight to the shop and then back home once more, no detours—planned or otherwise. You let out the breath you weren't aware you were holding, shoulders lowering at the sight of your home.

All that stress and you still didn't get the answers you were looking for. While he held true to his end of the bargain and answered your questions, the answers left something to be desired. Your why me's received a because you're my wife response and each why are you in my house got a just until everythings all fixed up, love.

But now you were done. Everything on your list checked off—including a few items Johnny himself pointed out during the course of the week. You were pleased to say your house looked better now than it did when you first moved in. No squeaky doors, no wobbly steps. It was picture perfect.

Johnny turned to you, holding his toolbag and leftover materials. "Come with me one more time to return these pipes I didn't end up needing?" he asked, his gaze steady as he held yours, bright blue eyes pinning you in place. You'd have thought exposure therapy over the week would have eased the intensity when he turned his full attention on you but it hadn't. It was still just as gut-wrenching as it had been that first night.

You thought about turning him down. Saying no and leaving it at that. But you were still curious. And hopeful. Hopeful that now you were done, he'd give you a satisfactory answer of why you, why your house, why now.

So you did. One more ride couldn't hurt.

The trip there was uneventful, Johnny jumping out to get your door just as the truck rolled to a stop, the same as he had every trip and then the pipes were returned and you were back in the vehicle once more, seatbelt firmly in place.

It was fine until he turned left out of the parking lot instead of right.

You froze for a brief moment, watching the new scenery passing by your window. "Where are you going?" you asked, thinking (hoping) that maybe he had another return to take care of, something he wanted to do while he was out before dropping you back off at your house. You felt your heartbeat starting to pick up it's tempo despite your reassurances to yourself.

"We're headed home, sweetheart."

"But—it's the other way," you tried, waving your hand in the vague direction of your house like it would spark his memory, voice still steady but starting to become tight with anxiety.

"We're going to our home, not yours," he didn't react as you dove for the door handle. You were still going slowly enough it wouldn't hurt too badly to jump out onto the road, maybe just a few scraped extremities to show for it. But when you tugged on the latch nothing happened.

Pulling firmly and jamming your shoulder against the door got you nowhere, it was sealed and wouldn't open from the inside. With horror you remembered all the times Johnny jumped out to get your door for you. Had you ever opened it yourself? Whipping your head back to him, you watched as he sat there smiling, taking you who knew where.

"Now that it's all fixed up," he continued as if there hadn't been any interruption, "We can sell it as is—fully furnished. I'll send some friends over to pick up your clothes and any small items you want but there's no reason to double up on all our furniture so it'll be included in the sale."

"What," you croaked, eyes wide as you stared at him in disbelief.

"Husbands and wives shouldn't live separately, dear. It's time you came home."

[rcvcgers]

A Thousand Miles

this is how i would imagine the boys would react to "a thousand miles" by vanessa carlton while in the car!

word count: 1.4k words

warnings: none!

author's note: my sister turned this song on in the car today so of course i had to make a post about it!

Sylus

Sylus knows how much you love listening to music. He couldn’t stand to see you disappointed whenever you couldn’t listen to your playlist whenever you went on joyrides together.

So when he picked you up from your apartment with brand new helmets with bluetooth audio, Sylus knew he was the best boyfriend ever by your squeals and the way you peppered kisses all over his face.

He made sure your helmet had cat ears on it too because you’re his kitten.

Sylus chuckled as you jumped for joy, struggling to tighten the straps of your helmet as you swipe through your endless list of playlists.

Sylus helped you onto the bike, absolutely loving the way your body molded to his. He guided your arms around his torso, placing your hands on his abdomen just the way he likes it.

Ten minutes into your joyride is when the song comes on.

Sylus’s body goes frigid for a moment, having to listen closely as the piano notes rang through his ears. He didn’t even notice as your hands moved up his chest, gripping his pecs.

You sang along to the song and very innocently squeezed his pecs along to the beat of the chorus. You even alternated between the right and the left because you were in a silly goofy mood.

A smirk formed on his lips when he heard you singing the lyrics, “cause I need you, and I miss you!”

You need him? Well, who is he to say no to his kitten?

His grip on the throttle tightened, his fist turning it as his motorcycle lunged forward, weaving through traffic so he can show you just how much he needs and misses you too.

Zayne

Zayne is arguably one of the best drivers on the road. He doesn’t speed and he always makes sure to use his blinker when changing lanes.

He knows how much you hate it when he goes the speed limit, knowing that everyone in the world goes at least 5 miles over it.

That’s how you two settled into a fun routine of you putting on music and trying to get Zayne to break and sing with you. It hasn’t happened yet, though, but it doesn’t make you any less determined to make him crack!

“Alright, Zayne,” you smiled as you landed on the perfect song, “gird your loins because I’m going to get you to break!”

Zayne raised an eyebrow and looked at you out of the corner of his eye. His face remained stoic as the beginning piano notes flowed through the car’s speakers.

Really? This is your song? He shook his head and knew that this was the easiest challenge you’ve brought to him. He listened as you belted out the lyrics, matching the dramatics and tone of the song.

At one point, you even held your fist to his mouth as if it were a microphone. Zayne didn’t give in, though, and remained stoic as he weaved through the Linkon traffic.

What got him to break, though, was the beat of the song. It was…appealing to him. He liked the beat and how they repeated in a predictive order. He didn’t even realize that his finger was tapping against the steering wheel.

You gasped and pointed at him. You passed the music as he rolled his eyes, looking away.

“Did I manage to break the Dr. Zayne?”

“It seems like you have, my love.”

Xavier

Xavier was knocked out in the passenger seat of your shared car. After a long day of fighting Wanderers and arguing with Tara about who gets the honor of dealing with all the paperwork (which Xavier has admitted to never doing during his time at the Association), he was slumped to say the least.

You quietly played music to pass the time, opting to drive around just a bit longer so Xavier can get as much sleep as he can before, well, falling asleep yet again in your bed.

You held back an excited squeal when the song came on. You haven’t heard it in years! It brought back so many happy memories for you.

You gently turned the volume knob to the side, the volume increasing ever so slightly, as the singer’s voice sang the lyrics. You hummed along, popping your shoulders up and down, containing your giggles. When the chorus kicked in, you couldn’t help but sing along!

“And now I wonder…if I could fall, into the sky, do you think time, would pass me by?”

You turned your head and looked over at Xavier, who stared at you with those big blue eyes of his. It shocked you, though, and the car swerved before you quickly gained control of it.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he said, looking out the window and at the moon, crossing his arms over his chest as he gets comfortable in his seat.

“What doesn’t make sense?” You followed up, glancing his way as you drove the car back to your apartment.

“How does one ‘fall’ into the sky? That’s not how gravity works.” Your snort earned a half-glare from him. “What? What’s so funny?”

“I don’t think she meant it literally, baby!”

“Oh…well that’s just lazy songwriting.”

Rafayel

Rafayel wanted to be the only one in charge of your weekend plans. He needed it to be perfect for you! Rafayel had the very bright idea of renting a convertible, since the city was known for its coastal views along the highway.

So he put you in charge of the weekend playlist!

Rafayel helped you into the passenger seat of the convertible, quickly making his way to the driver side. The two of you decided to buy silly sunglasses for each other from a local store for your scenic car trip along the coast.

Rafayel got you a pair with obscenely large lenses and the frames were bedazzled with red and purple stones. You got him a pair of children’s sunglasses that were way too small for his face with shark fins that poked from the lenses.

“This is an insult to sharks,” he grumbled, the car speeding towards the highway.

You flicked through the songs on your playlist, trying to find the perfect song to start off the drive. You clicked it when you found it, a smile growing on your face when Rafayel gasped, looking over at you.

It was your song. Cheesy, yes, but it’s oh so good.

You and Rafayel belted out the lyrics and put the volume on full blast, your hair flying with the wind. He pressed the gas pedal all the way to the floor, soaring to top speeds.

It wasn’t long until sirens rang from behind you. The encounter ended with Rafayel getting a hefty speeding ticket. He looked over at you, shark sunglasses still on his face when he said, “sharks are always at the scene of the crime. Never forget that, cutie.”

Caleb

Your local movie theater was doing a weekend romcom extravaganza and Caleb decided to buy you tickets for a showing of your favorite movie. He showed up at your door with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and another bouquet of your favorite candy.

Were your jacket pockets and purse going to be filled with said candy? Yes. Absolutely. But Caleb was going to help you shove his box of MilkDuds into an empty crevice! So it was worth it.

He parked in a spot far away from the entrance and walked to your side of the car. You sat with the candy bouquet in your lap, beaming at him. The radio played in the background and he rested his forearm the open car door, leaning down.

“You ready, pip-squeak?” Caleb mused with a smile. You nodded and handed the bouquet to him.

“Stuff me!”

The two of you spent the next five minutes shoving bags and small boxes of candy into every pocket you had. M&Ms went in your jean pockets while mini Reeses were tucked inside the sleeve of your jacket. You stood in a t-pose while Caleb slipped more and more candy into your clothing.

The song on the radio was catchy and the two of you found yourself singing along, the lyrics echoing off the parking garage walls. You swayed your hips, dodging as he tried to slip red licorice into your pants.

“Stay still for me, pip-squeak!” He laughed. You rolled your eyes and obeyed, glancing at the clock in his car.

“Shit! Caleb, we’re late!” You gasped and he popped right up, scooping you into his arms as he ran towards the movie theater doors.

[comflexxed]

june was awake. he had been for a little while now, lingering in that soft space between sleep and consciousness, listening to the quiet rhythm of hans’ breathing beside him. but he hadn’t moved. hadn’t wanted to. there was something about the way the morning felt — unrushed, warm, steady — that made him reluctant to let go of it just yet.

and then hans’ voice broke through the quiet, low and amused, carrying that same warmth that had june’s chest tightening in a way he wasn’t sure he knew how to name.

june bit back a smile he cracked one eye open, just enough to catch the expression on hans’ face — soft, a little curious, his gaze lingering like he was committing this moment to memory.

june stayed still for a beat longer, letting the weight of hans’ words settle between them before finally shifting just enough to stretch, his body protesting the cramped space. he exhaled, voice still laced with sleep as he murmured, “you sound awfully sure for someone who just admitted to being sore.” his lips quirked as he finally met hans’ gaze fully, blinking away the last remnants of sleep. he felt warm — too warm, like the blankets and hans’ arm still loosely draped around him had turned the couch into its own little cocoon.

june hummed, settling back against the cushions, his fingers unconsciously brushing against the fabric of hans’ sleeve. “i’d ask if you slept well, but i think i already know the answer.” his voice was quiet, still holding onto the ease of the morning.

he should probably get up. he knew that. but the weight of hans’ gaze, the steady presence of him so close, the soft warmth of this moment — they all made it far too easy to just stay. so he did.

june let his eyes flutter shut again, a slow breath slipping past his lips as he murmured, “…no regrets here either,” his fingers curled slightly against hans’ sleeve, his voice dipping just a little, like he was holding something back.

june had never been the type to fall asleep easily.

most nights, sleep came in scattered pieces — sometimes restless, sometimes not at all. he was used to it, the way his mind kept itself busy even when his body was begging for rest.

but here, like this — pressed against hans, wrapped in his warmth, listening to the quiet rhythm of his fingers against his waist—june felt himself slip under faster than he ever had before. he barely registered the soft whisper of good night before the weight of exhaustion settled in, dragging him into something deep and quiet, where the storm outside faded into nothing.

the first thing june felt when he stirred was warmth.

his dreams had been light, scattered with flickers of things he couldn’t quite place—snippets of conversation, the feeling of a hand brushing his, the sound of laughter somewhere in the distance. but as awareness slowly returned to him, none of that mattered.

what mattered was the steady rise and fall of hans’ chest beneath his cheek.

june blinked his eyes open, slow and reluctant, letting the hazy morning light filter into his vision. the apartment was still, bathed in the quiet glow of dawn, and for a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t breathe, just listened.. hans was still asleep. june could tell by the way his breaths came slow and even, by the way his grip hadn’t loosened, his arm still resting firm and secure around june’s waist.

it was nice. unfamiliar in the best kind of way. june had woken up alone for so long that having someone there, still there, sent something warm curling in his chest.

careful not to shift too much, he tilted his head just enough to glance at hans. his hair was a mess, face soft in sleep, and june felt something in his stomach flip at the sight. he could stay like this a little longer. just a little.

closing his eyes again, june let himself relax, his hand settling lightly over hans’ where it rested against his waist. it was still early. the storm outside had quieted, but the world hadn’t fully woken up yet. and neither had he.

so for now, he’d let himself drift — just a little longer, just until hans woke up too.

[insidekatmind]

Forgiveness~Lee Myung-gi

Wearning: angst and sweet

Request: yes!

Myung-gi had accepted the invitation because he had no choice. The debt from cryptocurrencies was suffocating him, and with a baby on the way, your baby ,he knew he had to do something. From the moment he decided to participate, he had started avoiding you. He did it to protect you, to spare you pain, but the absence hurt just the same.

When he woke up in that sterile room, classical music echoed in his ears. Around him were rows of bunk beds and confused faces. He no longer had his clothes, nor his personal belongings. He felt lost. Then, among the crowd, his eyes landed on you.

He had found you.

Without thinking, he rushed toward you, his heart pounding in his chest. But you ignored him. Completely. As if he didn’t exist.

Three days passed like that. Myung-gi watched you from a distance, torn between the relief of seeing you alive and the fear of what was coming next. He knew you had survived the first two games, but the third was approaching, and just the thought of it terrified him. He wanted to talk to you, to come closer, but he didn’t want to add more stress to an already unbearable situation.

Then the third game began.

They called it Mingle. The players had to stand on a spinning platform, forming groups based on the number announced by the robotic voice. Those who failed would be eliminated.

Chaos erupted. Pushing, shouting, desperation. Myung-gi moved quickly, trying not to be trampled. When the number “2” was announced, panic reached its peak. And then he saw you.

You were alone. Your group had abandoned you at the last second.

Without thinking, he ran to you. People were shoving and fighting to save themselves, but he couldn’t afford to waste time. He grabbed your wrist and, with all his strength, pulled you toward one of the safe rooms, pushing aside anyone who tried to get in his way.

As soon as you crossed the threshold, the door locked with a metallic click. You were trapped inside. Alive.

Myung-gi was breathing heavily, but his grip on you softened. For a long moment, he just stared into your eyes, as if trying to memorize your face.

“I won’t let anything happen to you or our baby.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, filled with emotion.

He was still holding your wrist, but gently now. He had so many questions, but only one certainty: you were never supposed to be there.

You sighed and hugged him. He was surprised by your reaction, but he didn't hesitate. He closed his arms around you, bringing you close to him. He could feel your heart pounding against his chest.

He buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent. It felt like a lifetime since he had been so close to you, since he had held you like that. The familiar warmth of your body against his was both comforting and torture.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled away just enough to look at you. His gaze was intense, filled with a mixture of protectiveness and guilt."You shouldn't be here," he whispered, tracing the line of your jaw with his fingers.

His touch was gentle, as if he were afraid to hurt you. But there was also a certain possessiveness in the way he held you, as if he were trying to carve your presence into his memory.

“I needed the money for the baby,” you whispered. His expression darkened as you mentioned the reason behind your presence in that infernal place. Anger, fear and regret all twisted on his face.

"You shouldn't have come. It's too dangerous. Especially in your condition."He put a protective hand on your stomach, as if trying to shield the baby growing inside from harm.

You could see the worry etched in his features.

"What if something happened to you both? What if I lost you..." his words trailed off, too afraid to even voice the thought.

He pulled back, his eyes roaming over your face, as if trying to convince himself you were really there, physically unharmed.He let out a deep sigh, trying to control the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

"But you're here now," he said, his voice firmer now. "And I won't let anything happen to either of you. I promise."You smiled and hugged him.

The moment you smiled, some of the tension in his body released. He held you tighter, burying his face in the curve of your neck."God, I've missed you," he murmured against your skin. "I didn't know if I'd ever hold you again."

He nuzzled your hair, his hand rubbing circles on your back.

"I'm sorry," he eventually said, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm so sorry for everything. For disappearing. For not being there for you. For putting you in this situation."

“I forgive you,” you whispered.

Your words, soft and soothing, made his chest tight. He closed his eyes, a wave of relief crashing over him.

"Thank you," he responded, his voice cracking. "I don't deserve it, but thank you."He pulled back to look at your face, searching your eyes. He could see the forgiveness in your gaze, the kindness you could still have for him despite everything. It only made his regret more profound.

[hypnonerd1095]

Contract

"Wake up Amanda"

Amanda blinked, confusion and drowsiness washing over her as she stumbled a bit, thankfully the man who had spoken to her was quick to catch her and steady her back on her feet.

"Easy there Amanda, I know it's disorienting, just take it slow. Good girl" the man said reassuringly

She shook her head a bit, trying to regain her bearings. She hadn't responded to the name Amanda for over a month now, it took a moment to even recognize the man was speaking to her, but being called a good girl sent a wave of calm and contentment through her that helped slow her thoughts enough to focus. That was right, she was Amanda, and this man had been her employer for the past month... what was his name again? The memory of that was fuzzy, the only name she could come up with was Master...

"Ngh... is it always this bothersome when we wake up?" Amanda grumbled, letting Master guide her to a chair as she rubbed her temples "no offense Master, but you should really work on this... also why can't I remember your name?"

Master chuckled "it gets easier the more used to it you become. This was your first time so it makes sense your thoughts are jumbled. As for my name, that's a bit of a safety precaution. Can't have you spreading word about this position around after your employment ends, everything is technically above board, but you never know what kind of protesters might show up on principle" he explained

"Right... the position... " Amanda mumbled "so I've seriously been your slave for a month? I can only remember bits and pieces. Guess that's part of it huh?"

"Yes, we can negotiate how much you do or don't want to remember. Some of my girls enjoy knowing exactly what is being done to them in their waking lives, some wish to leave their work lives separate. For trial runs like this we default to partial remembrance, in case you decide not to renew" Master said with a nod, providing her a laptop "feel free to confirm your payment was received and anything else you like. I'll have a servant bring you something to drink that should help. We can talk more when your head is fully clear"

Amanda nodded, logging into her bank account, wow, that was a lot more zeroes at the end of her balance than she was used to. Checking the transaction history, it was legit. Exactly the amount he'd promised, and a little more to boot for "extraordinary performance." She didn't know what that referred to but she blushed at the words, she had a decent idea.

A woman "dressed" in what one might classify as "underwear" if they were feeling generous came in with a plate of food and a fizzy drink. Amanda couldn't help but steal glances at the woman as she stood at attention, smiling down at Amanda blissfully.

"T-thanks" Amanda murmured, focusing on her meal. Is that what she'd looked like? The woman seemed so happy and content, didn't even seem cold from the lack of clothing.

It was hard to believe this job was real. Voluntarily be turned into a hypnotized slave for a predetermined length of time, all living expenses covered, and get paid a generous wage to use as she saw fit during her time off. She could even set limits on what tasks she'd be used for... though the less restrictions she placed on her service the more she was paid.

When Master had approached her with his offer she'd almost called the cops on him to have him carted away to an asylum. Only a sizable up front deposit had convinced her to humor him... but there was no denying it was real now.

When Master returned, he carried with him several different contracts. "Now that you've had time to clear your head, I've brought you options to review going forward. You can, of course, decide this job isn't for you. But you did quite well here, I'm prepared to offer you quite a generous starting wage." he said, putting the various contracts down in front of her.

Amanda looked over the contracts, various lengths, with varying amounts of time on and off duty. With what she'd made already she could easily walk away, this nest egg would carry her a long time. She could go back to her old boring job, serving customers with a fake smile, following inane orders from bosses who either didn't know or didn't care how impossible their expectations were. All for a pitiful wage that wasn't remotely worth it. It'd be better now, with these savings she had... but...

Amanda glanced at the slave next to her, that blissful expression mixed with arousal now that Master was here. Was being a hypnotized slave really worse than being a wage slave? She could feel like THAT all day, and live in luxury on her weeks off. Work this job for a few years and she could even retire!

She barely needed to think about it as she took the longest-term contract on offer, filled out her choice of restrictions, and signed her name. Probably the last time she'd be using her name for quite a while. Her Master smiled.

"Glad to have you with us, my Good Girl. Now then, slave A-42 activate"

Amanda smiled as the trigger took hold, she was going to enjoy this new job.