#I don't know what I expected but.. he sounds really soft...

[leahrintarou]

heyyy!!! i've read through most of your writing and i'm legit obsessed. i know it says your not doing requests rn so if you end up doing this in like a year i don't really mind. could you do fwb for a fem!reader with yuji or some other jjk character? sfw or nsfw or suggestive i don't care, but that would be so cute!!

❀ FWB W/ YUJI ITADORI

synopsis: fwb with yuji, but you both catch feelings despite your promise not to. warnings: college au, barely suggestive, fluff, she/her pronouns, yuji being a cutie pie, "you up?" lol, 2.3k word count. an: the fact that this was in my inbox for so long and I've never gotten the chance to write it until now. so it was borderline ACTUALLY written a year later lmao. i hope you enjoy regardless :') my reqs are open now tho.

y/n’s phone buzzed against the nightstand, the glow of the screen breaking through the dim light of her room. she didn’t need to check—it was always him this late.

yuji: you up?

she stared at the message for a moment, lips pressed together in something between a smile and a sigh. these nights had become a pattern, one they never talked about in daylight, but neither of them seemed to want to stop. she typed back with one hand, the other resting lazily against her stomach.

y/n: door’s open.

it was an invitation, but it never felt like one. more like a habit. like breathing. she tossed her phone aside and leaned back against the pillows, the faint hum of the city outside her window mixing with the quiet of her dorm room. she tried to act like it was no big deal—like his visits didn’t make her pulse quicken, like she wasn’t already anticipating the sound of his footsteps in the hallway.

when the door finally creaked open after a few long minutes, she didn’t need to look up to know it was him. the soft shuffle of his sneakers being kicked off, the rustling of his hoodie as he peeled it over his head—familiar sounds that had started to feel like home in a way she wasn’t sure she liked.

“you always leave your door unlocked like that?” his voice was low, rough around the edges, like he’d been out in the cool night air for too long.

y/n glanced over, meeting his gaze. his hair was a little messy, strands falling over his forehead, and there was that easy grin tugging at his lips—the one that made it harder to keep this casual.

“yeah. for you,” she teased, though it came out softer than she intended.

he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, eyes dragging over her—bare legs stretched out under the blanket, her oversized shirt slipping just enough to reveal a hint of collarbone. his gaze lingered, but it wasn’t just lust. there was something else. something warmer.

“dangerous habit,” he muttered, but he was already moving toward her, the weight of his steps making the floor creak in that way she’d come to expect.

he sat at the edge of the bed first, like he always did, his thigh brushing against hers through the blanket. his presence was heavy but not suffocating—it was comforting, in that messy, boyish way only yuji could pull off.

“long day?” she asked, her voice quieter now, more familiar.

he nodded, leaning back on his hands, eyes flicking to the ceiling for a moment before settling back on her. “yeah… thought this might help.”

it was honest. it always was with him. that’s what made it hard sometimes.

she shifted closer, the blanket pooling around her waist, their legs barely touching. his eyes dropped to her bare skin, but he didn’t move—not yet. he was waiting, like he always did, for her to close the gap.

her fingers brushed against his, slow, testing. he didn’t pull away. he never did.

“yeah?” she murmured.

his eyes met hers—warm, familiar, but laced with something heavier. “yeah.”

and just like that, the space between them started to disappear.

-----

the next morning came around and y/n was surprised to feel a weight around her waist. she wasn’t expecting it, but she also didn’t mind it. in fact, she craved it. and that feeling alone made her stomach twist with a deep sense of shame.

yuji’s arm was heavy, draped over her like it belonged there, his chest pressed against her back, warm and steady. his breathing was soft, even, still lost in sleep. she could feel his heartbeat against her spine, and for a moment, she let herself sink into it—let herself enjoy the comfort of his presence without overthinking what it meant.

but it was hard not to.

they promised to keep it casual. no strings, no expectations. just late-night texts and fleeting touches when the weight of their lives became too much. it was supposed to be simple. but the moment he stayed that first night—exhausted from his assignments, passing out before he could pull his clothes back on—that simplicity started to unravel.

it kept happening after that. once turned into twice. twice turned into something like a routine. and now, she woke up more often with him here than without.

it scared her. but it also made her feel safe in a way she hadn’t expected.

she shifted slightly under his arm, trying not to wake him, but he stirred anyway. his hand tightened instinctively around her waist, fingers pressing into the curve of her stomach. he let out a low, sleepy groan, face nuzzling into the crook of her neck.

“n/n… it's too early,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

y/n froze for a second, but then she relaxed, forcing a quiet laugh. “you say that every time.”

he grinned against her skin, eyes still closed. “’cause it’s always true.”

his fingers brushed against her bare skin beneath the hem of her shirt—his shirt, she realized with a flush of heat. sometime during the night, she must’ve grabbed it from the pile of clothes he left here. another bad habit. another line blurred.

she shifted to face him, their noses nearly brushing. his eyes finally cracked open, warm and soft in the early light. there was no teasing smirk this time, no playful comment. just him, looking at her like he was exactly where he wanted to be.

and that was the problem.

“you gotta get up soon?” he asked, voice quieter now.

she shook her head, trying to ignore the way her heart twisted. “nah… you?”

he hesitated, then shrugged. “not really.”

they stayed like that, neither moving, both pretending this wasn’t more than it was.

but it felt like more. it felt like too much.

her chest tightened with the weight of it, but she swallowed it down. because if she said something—if she admitted that maybe she liked waking up next to him, that maybe she liked him more than she should—it would ruin this. whatever this was.

so, she smiled instead, reaching up to brush his messy hair out of his face. “guess you’re stuck with me a little longer then.”

his grin returned, but it was softer this time. “good. i like being stuck with you.”

y/n was used to yuji’s honesty, especially when it came to him expressing his feelings in friendships, but for some reason, she felt like this was different. y/n blamed her exhaustion, blurry brain, and lack of caffeine for these thoughts. yuji was always friendly to pretty much everyone so why would she be an exception? "y/n." yuji's voice sounded as if it faded in and when she looked at his expression of confusion, she realized that he had probably called her name more than once.

"sorry i spaced out."

"i can see that." he laughed teasingly. "are you done spacing out now?"

"probably not, but what's up?" she questioned. yuji was quiet for a moment. very out of the ordinary. there was a nervous smile on his lips and y/n’s anxiety only heightened at his unusual behavior. "i was contemplating last night and i came over here to you to finally make a decision..." he started. y/n could hear her own heartbeat and she hoped that it wasn't loud enough for yuji to hear too. what excuse could she use to give reasoning behind her fast pacing heartbeat?

"which was?" she asked, voice just above a whisper. "i think we should call this whole friends with benefits thing off. not because of you or anything. i just made a shitty mistake that i can't undo no matter how hard i try."

y/n was silent and it felt piercing. what could his reasoning be? what if he caught onto her recent behavior when it came to her interactions with him? extended eye contact, those poor excuses to create physical contact, or even the need to speak to him about anything and everything. he probably reassured her and took the blame to soften the blow of this sudden conversation.

"do you mind telling me what that mistake was?"

yuji sat up, the blanket falling from his body and revealing his bare half. y/n took a glance at him before her eyes darted back up to his eyes. yuji turned away, embarrassment all over his features. "I'd put a shirt on...but.." he smiled nodding towards the shirt that y/n was currently wearing. she would've given it to him in a heartbeat if it weren't for the fact that she wore nothing underneath. "no it's fine. I'm sorry. i can go change into my own and give it back-"

"no, no. seriously its fine. i like when you wear my clothes." he smiled. his words came out with that familiar teasing sounding tone and y/n felt a wave of butterflies in her stomach. "but to answer your question, i kinda sorta broke our no strings attached rule."

y/n felt as if her ears were playing tricks on her but when’s yuji continued, she couldn't deny what was being spoken right in front of her. "i definitely have some strings attached. i know it's sudden and we both agreed to not let it happen but you know..."

y/n’s heart raced as yuji’s words lingered in the air, and for a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence. she could see the nervousness creeping into his eyes, the way he shifted slightly, as if unsure of himself.

she had always been able to read him, but this time, something was different. something was off. yuji’s usual confidence seemed to be faltering, and it made her hesitate. she wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.

“y/n?” he said quietly, voice tinged with uncertainty. his gaze dropped to her lips, then quickly shifted away. “i know this is sudden, and i’m probably messing things up. i get it if you don’t feel the same, but...”

y/n’s breath caught in her throat as she processed his words. did he really think she didn’t feel the same? wasn’t it obvious by now? all the lingering touches, the way her heart fluttered when he was near. but still, a part of her hesitated. did he really want this? or was this just another one of those moments where they both pretended to be okay with the casual thing, despite everything?

she shifted slightly, her body inching closer to him. the tension between them thickened. yuji’s eyes flicked back to hers, and there it was again—self-doubt. he thought she didn’t want him back.

she wanted to kiss him. her body screamed for it. but her mind was still tangled in confusion, in fear of ruining the fragile space they had created. she stayed frozen, her lips parted slightly as she debated whether or not to make the first move.

yuji noticed. he must've seen it in her eyes—the hesitation, the uncertainty—and his face softened with a hint of frustration, but also something deeper. something vulnerable.

“y/n...” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. he reached out, gently cupping her chin to bring her face closer to his. “i told you... i like you. not just as a friend. i’ve liked you for a while now. i wouldn’t have stayed over... i wouldn’t have kept coming back if it was just some casual thing for me.”

her heart skipped a beat. the words he had said, so simple and clear, finally broke through her hesitation. he liked her back. she had been afraid—afraid to be too obvious, afraid to let him see the depth of what she felt. but now, hearing him say it, hearing the sincerity in his voice, it was impossible to deny.

without thinking, y/n leaned in, closing the small gap between them. her lips brushed against his softly at first, testing, as if still unsure. but then yuji’s hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss.

it was urgent but soft, and it quickly deepened, growing more desperate with every passing second. his hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer, his body pressing against hers as if he couldn’t get enough of her.

y/n’s breath caught in her throat as she kissed him back, a mix of emotions flooding her—relief, desire, something warmer she hadn’t expected. the kiss was messy, full of unspoken words, and every time she felt him pull away for a breath, he came right back to her, as if there was no place else he wanted to be.

yuji moaned into their kiss, feeling as though it was the first and last time he'd ever get to experience something so exhilarating. she pulled back and yuji practically chased after her lips for a small peck. his eyes found her own and y/n slightly tilted her head to the side.

y/n smiled softly, her fingers tracing the outline of his jaw as she looked into his eyes, now filled with the same longing she felt. “you’re not messing this up, yuji," she whispered, her voice a little shaky but filled with certainty. "you were never just some casual thing to me."

yuji’s smile returned, but it was softer, more vulnerable this time. “so... we’re not just friends with benefits anymore, then?”

“no,” she murmured, her lips curling into a small, genuine smile. “not anymore.”

his grin widened at that, a playful spark dancing in his eyes. “good,” he said, leaning in for another kiss, this one slower, but no less filled with all the things they hadn’t said yet.

and this time, y/n didn’t hesitate. she let herself get lost in it. especially when his warm hand snaked underneath her his shirt.

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[futuristicanoe]

near-life experiences

it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea

MALE reader. sub al <3 feelings ; sex ; issues ; tears [ implied unhealthy lifestyles + alcohol is mentioned ]

Going to a party with Alex usually meant standing by his side and observing other people, since you were not much of a party animal. Neither was he, yet he would still find a way to vanish into thin air suddenly if you forgot to keep him close. Uncomfortably close.

This was one of those rare occasions when you two hadn't arrived at the party together, and your first time seeing him after a couple of months of separation was not planned, or even expected. You spent the entire night studying him from afar.

You noticed how he wasn't drinking a lot. Perhaps because he planned on having something worse than a glass of tequila the next day, so he was balancing it out, but you felt warmth spreading through your chest as one of his – friends? – called out your name, and you saw heat creeping into Alex's face when someone joked about you ogling him from across the room.

"Just making sure he isn't getting into any trouble, that's all," you joked back dryly, since that's what you were supposed to do, for some reason. And because you had missed seeing Alex's face break into a smile.

You loved how his eyes would crinkle when he smiled or moved his mouth around a guttural phrase in one of his songs, and it hit you later on, when he stared up at you, eyes half-lidded and brimming with tears as your fingers held his tongue down, only then did the word come to you.

Pretty.

Not that you had never thought of him as a good-looking man before, far from it, but as he knelt at your feet, pushed his flushed face up against your calf, silently begging you to tug on his greasy hair, you realised just how precious moments like this were, and how often you'd find yourself nostalgic because of them.

His deep, growly voice reduced to soft whimpers, pathetic little huffs as you scraped your blunt nails down his hips. Slick and filthy, all over from hair pomade, sweat, the sloppy kisses you pressed just below his ribs and into his inner thighs. His stomach, supple and thick right where the hem of his boxers peeked out of his jeans.

He was divine. Simple as that.

Pretty, pretty.

Now, where did that word come from?

In the middle of that tasteless party, a girl had come up next to you, leaning against your shoulder and smiling as she followed the line of your nearly unfocused gaze.

"Your friend's really pretty," she said, pointing her nose up at Alex, who seemed lost in an awkward conversation with someone you couldn't even recognise.

Feeling her fingers softly curling in the hem of your jacket sleeve, seeing she had an unlit cigarette balanced perfectly between her lips – already stained cherry pink with her lipstick. It came naturally to ignore the strange feeling her small comment had given you. You simply pulled a Zippo out of your pocket.

But it never left your mind. When you and Alex left the party, somehow still together and respectively sober — you brought it up. Curious.

"Some girl at the party said you're pretty."

He put on his signature grin, a makeshift form of mischief gleaming in his eyes like a promise. "You sound surprised."

You scoffed. "I don't think she recognised you, Al."

His expression flickered back to an unreadable one. "What'd you say to her?"

"Not much, till she asked something else, and then I just said you weren't looking for anything. She was nice about it, though. Nice overall."

Alex regretted being sober. "Lying to strangers 'cause of me, I see."

"There was nothing else to do," you said, before laughing to hopefully ease up the tension. "You've got some boring friends, mate. I don't know why I keep... going back."

Alex hummed, slowing his steps. His gaze travelled around the sky, and the moon reflected in his eyes was almost there — burrowing beneath his eyelashes, hiding. Then he smiled again, like that yellowish little circle hanging high and dry above you two actually gave him an idea.

"What'd you want to say, then?"

"What?" You slowed your steps, too.

"If you hadn't been one of my boring friends, what would you've said to her?"

That was it. Time stopped, replacing the future with something plunged right out of your late-night mirages.

The second you got in Alex's bedroom, nothing seemed to matter. Time bent and coiled like reed stems in your hands. He found himself perched on your lap and pushing you back, too proud for his own good, so you nudged him playfully until he toppled over. Falling from your lap, where he had been hoping to keep circling his hips. He stifled a complaint when he realised he had hit his forehead against something solid, – your elbow? – and you scrambled to grab a hold of his waist.

"Baby?"

You tucked his mussy hair behind his ears. Smiling at the sideburns. His eyes fluttered open. Wide, hungry, unforgiving. Stubborn tears threatened to spill down his cheeks.

Something tightened deep inside your stomach at the sight. The rawness of it irresistible and nearly suffocating. And not even then did that word come to you, since all you had the chance to do was to stare at his pouty face a moment longer before he lunged at you.

His futile attempts at pretending to be angry with you died down soon enough because you weren't playing along. No, you kept doing what he feared the most. You unbuttoned his shirt and pressed tender little kisses into his collarbones. All smooth skin and divots only deepening as his shoulders curled inwards, the unfamiliar— nostalgic sensation of your breath tickling his chest had him lightheaded.

Long gone was that dirty look he had earlier, and as you rubbed your thumb over the darkening circle under his eye, you saw it all.

"Oh, c'mon, love. You're fucking me up. What'd you have to look so goddamn innocent for?"

Alex narrowed his eyes at that, like he was going to get defensive. "'m not innocent. Just not used to it."

"To what?"

He huffed. "Don't act like you've got a name for whatever this is."

You grabbed both of his wrists. Pushed them together and held him close, just like that. Uncomfortably close.

"I've got a name for everything, and I don't think you'd like hearing about it," you said. Alex frowned. "God, I forgot how stubborn you get when nobody's been fucking you properly in a while."

He tested if your grip around his wrists was strong enough.

"D'ya have a name for me too, Mr—?"

You shut him up this time. Kissed him until he started pawing at your shoulders, like he had any right to be the one expecting more, begging for attention. Like he wouldn't easily go cold turkey on you and disappear the next morning. He had done that before. Left you with nothing more than a couple of bite marks and a strange little Zippo lighter. It was empty, too.

Pretty, pretty, pretty.

He shut his eyes tightly as you coaxed him onto his stomach, turning into putty in your hands when you pressed down on the prominent line of his spine, whispering a soft, "Can you arch better for me, love?" And if he had been doing a good job of keeping his emotions at bay all night, he couldn't do it anymore after you brushed your knuckles against the short hair on the back of his neck, and told him just how good he was for letting you do this again. Whatever this was. Frisson ran through his entire body, nearly touching his heart, too. Now, that would have been too much, even for him.

With the position Alex was in — hips lifted and face down, — he easily muffled his noises, no doubt drooling on his pillow a bit indecently and acting too much like a messy little thing. You marvelled at the soft curve of his waist, at how effortlessly your hand slid down his back. Your touches were gentle to keep him pliant, but firm enough to have him gasping sharply, twisting his head to the side to look at you over his shoulder.

You didn't pull away or pause your movements after he had come all over his tummy. Even given you a drawn-out whine and one of those adorable keens. You just pressed your mouth against his temple, breathing him in.

You gently helped him turn onto his back. Desperately needing to see his face more than you had ever needed anything in your life. His bitten lips, sticky eyelashes, cheeks shiny and rosy from sobbing a bit too hard.

The colour, or rather the soft glow of relief, looked almost angelic on him. You leaned in closer, asking quietly, "feeling alright, baby?"

Alex nodded, a small grin tugging on his lips as he saw you staring at him, all awestruck and worried. Stupid, he thought, then nodded once more for good measure. The way he looked almost shy again was doing something horrible to you. It wasn't just Alex and his unpredictability. You could barely recognise yourself.

"Yeah," you said, burying your face in his neck for a brief moment. "That's just what you do, then, hmm? But I knew that already."

He smiled. Toothy and sheepish.

"No idea what you're talking about."

You smoothed his petulant frown over with your thumb and wiped his tears away, too. There wasn't much left, most of it had dried already, leaving nearly invisible tracks on his cheeks and a telltale pink colour in his eyes. "Of course," you said, playing along this time. "I don't mind. I've got you."

Alex sighed in response, letting his fingers touch your chin. He wanted to touch you again, but didn't know how. The frenzy was over. In fact, his bones were aching, and he was starting to dread the filthiness surrounding him. It had reached something deep inside him, something that wasn't even meant to be acknowledged, let alone loved. He tapped your chin.

"You don't mind now. But you will," he said.

"I won't."

"You can't know that."

"And you can?"

"Yes," he grinned. "I can do everything, really..."

"Can you do something for me then, sweetheart?"

Almost hesitantly, he nodded.

"Don't let me miss you like this again, because if you do, I won't go about it the long way. I'll just tell 'em you're even prettier with tears framing that little snarl—"

"No, you won't."

"You can't know that," you said, sitting back.

"Well, I know you."

"Then act like it, baby."

Alex went actually quiet. He heard you whisper something about running him a bath. Jokingly promising to carry him if his bones were truly aching that badly — God, did he say that out loud? — But it wasn't really a joke when you asked if he still wanted the chocolate muffins he wouldn't shut up about during the ride home, and all he gave you was a sleepy nod.

He moved back onto his belly, not caring about the filth anymore. Giddy. Pleasantly turbid happiness scratching him like a lungful of daffodils. Blinking slowly. Already missing the solace he knew he'd find in the warm feeling of your weight pinning him down. He shivered.

A/N: the caption is from Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye by Leonard Cohen. <333 tried writing masc reader since everybody (goblin) seemed to want that ... let's hope it's not bad. Mwah.

[aringofsalt]

you are on 🐕🐕🐕🐕🐕🐕 lockdown actually idk what you were thinking adding other WIPs to the list only 🐕🐕🐕🐕🐕🐕 (12 dogs!)

12 dogs 😭 the way this is gonna be like a quarter of the fic lmaoooo

"An...adoption drive?" Bobby asked slowly, looking down at the clipboard Buck had dug out from god knows where.

"Yeah!" Buck replied excitedly. "I was talking to James, you know, the guy from the shelter from the other day? They were full when the fire happened, and we got everyone out, but now they're down to less than half capacity until they can get the repairs done, and none of the shelters around can help because they're also full. So I thought maybe we could help out, get some visibility."

Buck turned on his own puppy eyes then. Bobby would never admit it, but Athena had made many comments about them working on him far more often than they really should.

He sighed. "Fine. But you're organizing it."

—

Two days later, by some miracle of planning and sheer determination—and more than a few cans of Red Bull—the firehouse was full of barking, meowing, and even the occasional chirp. They'd had a steady stream of people all day, and far more of them had actually adopted than Buck expected. He stood next to James, matching grins on their faces as a pair of twins walked away with their mom and a bonded trio of kittens.

"I can't believe how well this is going," Buck said happily. He turned to James, who was already looking up at him, smiling softly, and his own smile faltered for a second.

"It's all thanks to you," James said, gently nudging their elbows together. "I don't know how you got this together so fast. I should give you my number, get you on the board at the shelter, I could use you."

"Oh, yeah, I—I love helping out—"

"Hi, I'm so sorry, I was wondering if I could meet that cat over there?"

James gave his arm a squeeze and went to go help the woman who'd interrupted him, and Buck sighed, face falling as soon as James wasn't looking at him anymore.

"You know he was flirting with you, right?"

He'd been so lost in thought he hadn't even noticed Chimney coming up behind him.

"Yeah, I know."

"And you're... not going to do anything about that?" Chimney asked slowly.

Buck shrugged. "Nah."

Chimney opened his mouth, clearly about to start in on a lecture, but Buck was saved when one of the other shelter employees came in, struggling with three dogs on leashes and a fourth in her arms.

"Hey, let me help you with that," Buck offered, reaching for the dog she was holding before the poor thing could squirm its way into falling to the floor.

"Thank you," she said gratefully. "Billie gets so stressed out with change, poor girl. It's been a rough few days."

"I bet." Buck stroked her little forehead, cradling her gently against his chest. "Hi, Billie!"

She was a tiny thing, practically able to fit in one of his hands, with soft blonde fur that fluffed up around her ears and on her tail. Her eyes seemed to take up half her face, deep brown and soulful and looking up at him with the most trusting expression he'd ever seen. He hadn't been around a dog in years, but one look in Billie's eyes and he knew he wasn't going home without her.

—

"You want to what."

Eddie sounded unimpressed.

"Uh, house sit for you?" Buck winced. "Look, just for a week or two, I know you're still looking for renters and I don't want to mess with that. I can just—I dunno, take care of the house for a while instead of you having to pay the real estate guy to do it."

"How the hell did you forget your apartment doesn't allow pets? Again? Didn't this happen with that dog a few years back?"

"Hoover," Buck supplied. "But, come on, Eddie, look at this face." He flipped the camera, zooming in on Billie, who was happily playing in the corner of the room with one of her new toys. "She doesn't bark, we've been really lucky so far, but sooner or later somebody's going to notice me smuggling her in and out for pee breaks."

make me write!

[matsbaby]

Stalker much? pt. 2

photographer!matt x popular!reader

…

The next day passed in a blur for Matt, his mind elsewhere as he sat across from you at your vanity desk, flipping through pages of The Great Gatsby without truly seeing the words.

He couldn't focus on Gatsby's love life when his own mind was consumed by fantasies of you.

That was, until you spoke these words.

"You have any plans tomorrow night?" you asked casually, flipping your hair over your shoulder as you glanced up at him with those irresistible eyes.

He blinked, snapping out of his lustful daze as he met your gaze. "Uh, no... I don't think so. Why?" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly on the last word. Great, it fucking sounded like he was going through puberty again.

"Well," you said, leaning back in your chair and crossing your long, lean legs. "There's this party tomorrow night. My friend's parents are out of town, so..." You shrugged, letting the implication hang in the air between you.

Matt's mouth went dry, his tongue suddenly too big for his own mouth. "Oh," he managed to choke out, his mind racing with possibilities. A party. You, in a crowded room, in a short dress, laughing and dancing and singing...

"S-so, um... you want me to come with you?" he asked, hardly daring to believe the words were true.

Your smile widened, your eyes sparkling with a secret amusement. "Yeah. Y’know, since we're studying partners and all..." You trailed off, letting your words linger in the charged space between you.

He swallowed hard, knowing he was about to make a decision that would change everything. Knowing that once he crossed this line, there would be no going back.

"Okay," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah. I'll come."

…

As Matt walked beside you up the driveway to your friend's house, he couldn't believe this was really happening.

He had spent an eternity getting ready, staring at his reflection in the mirror as he tried on every shirt and pair of pants he owned, desperately attempting to look just the right amount of put-together and cool. But as he walked beside you now, he felt painfully aware of how out of place he was, like a fish out of water in this sea of preppy, perfectly coiffed popular kids.

You, on the other hand, looked like you were born to be here. Your hair was down, loose and beachy and perfect, falling in soft waves around your face. You wore a simple outfit, your makeup on point as usual. He couldn't stop staring at you, his eyes glued to your face, your body, the way your hips swayed with each step.

"Ready?" you asked, your voice barely audible over the pounding music.

He nodded, even as his feet were ready to turn and make him walk away.

…

Twenty minutes into the party, Matt found himself huddled in a corner of the living room, a red plastic cup of warm beer clutched in his sweaty palm.

He couldn't believe you had stuck by him this whole time, even as the party swelled with more and more people. He half-expected you to abandon him as soon as you walked through the door, eager to lose yourself in the fray of your social circle. But instead, you had taken his hand and pulled him along with you, introducing him to friends and classmates, never leaving his side for more than a minute.

Now, as you laughed at something a tall, blonde girl said, Matt felt a pang of annoyance twist in his gut. He wanted to ask your friend to leave you two alone.

But he didn't. He couldn't. Because what right did he have to claim you, to act like he owned any part of you at all?

As if sensing his thoughts, you turned to him with a bright smile, your hand finding his bicep in the crowded room. "Hey," you said, leaning in close so he could hear you over the pounding bass. "You okay?"

Matt nodded, trying to return your smile with a weak one of his own. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, his voice strained. "Just... a little overwhelmed."

You squeezed his arm in a way that made his heart skip a beat. "I know," you said, your voice soft. "But you're doing great. Everyone loves you."

He couldn't help but scoff at that, his eyes darting around at the sea of perfect, beautiful people surrounding them. "Yeah, right," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sure they do."

You rolled your eyes, but your smile never wavered. "I mean it. Alex here said you’re the nicest guy she’s ever met”

Matt blinked, stunned by your words. He glanced over at Alex, who was now chatting with a group of guys near the punch bowl, and felt a flicker of surprise. He had barely spoken two words to her, too intimidated to engage in more than surface-level conversation. But hearing you say she thought he was nice...

It made him feel a little less out of place. A little less like the awkward third wheel.

He turned back to you, his eyes wide. "She did?" he asked, hardly daring to believe it.

You nodded, but your smile faltered a little once you noticed his face “yeah. you interested?” you asked.

Matt felt his entire body stiffen at your question. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, couldn't believe that you would even ask him such a thing.

Was he interested? In your friend Alex? How could he possibly be interested in her when he was so hopelessly, completely in love with you?

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as the Sahara. "I... I don't know," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I mean, she seems nice and all, but..."

He just shrugged “not really my type” he finished.

“not your type?” you asked “and what is your type?”

Your smile was back now, playful and teasing, your eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. It was a look that made Matt's knees feel weak and his palms sweat even more, if that was possible.

You. You. You’re my type, goddamn it say it Matt, he thought.

"Honestly? Just… someone who makes me laugh" he said lamely in the end.

You nodded then spoke again. “do i make you laugh?” you asked tilting your head.

Matt's heart stuttered in his chest as you tilted your head, your hair falling in soft waves around your face. He could barely breathe, barely think, as he stared into your eyes and saw the playful, teasing glint that seemed to be reserved just for him.

He licked his suddenly dry lips, trying to find the right words. "Are you askin’ if you’re my type?”

Suddenly Alex grabbed your elbow, and Matt saw your smile fade, replaced by a look of mild annoyance. You glanced over at your friend, your body tensing slightly.

"Hey, can I borrow you for a sec?" Alex asked, her voice loud enough to be heard over the pounding music. She didn't wait for your response before pulling you away from Matt, towards the kitchen.

Matt stood there, frozen, as he watched you disappear into the crowd. fuck. you had just opened your mouth to respond. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

….

After that, your time together had been very limited. It was now 2:46 am and he had been searching for you everywhere to get you home safely before your curfew expired at 3.

He had already checked the living room, the kitchen, even the bathroom upstairs. But there was no sign of you anywhere. He pulled out his phone, hesitating for a moment before typing out a message to you.

"Where r u? Gotta go soon"

“Otsouide.”

Matt's frown deepened as he read your misspelled text message. He shoved his phone into his pocket and hurried towards the front door, his heart pounding in his chest as he pushed through the crowded foyer.

Outside he scanned the darkened porch, seeing a few couples making out in the shadows cast by the dim porch lights. That's when he spotted you, sitting alone on the top step of the front stairs.

"Hey," he called out, his voice sounding louder than he intended in the relative quiet of the night. He walked over to you and sat down next to you.

"What are you doing out here all alone?" he asked, glancing around nervously. "I was waiting for you inside"

You sniffled and looked down at your boots “i’m sorry…” you whispered softly, biting your lip “i needed some air, I think I drank too much”

Matt's heart clenched at the sound of your soft whisper, seeing the way you sniffled and looked down at your boots. He could sense the vulnerability in your voice, the slight slur of your words.

Shifting closer to you on the cold concrete step, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, feeling the warmth of your body heat the fabric. "Hey, it's okay," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "You don't have to apologize."

He hesitated for a moment before placing a tentative hand on your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm just glad I found you. I was gettin’ worried."

Matt glanced up at the dark sky, the stars hidden behind a veil of clouds. He knew he should be getting you home soon, but he didn't want to rush you. Not when you looked so... fragile. So beautifully, heartachingly real.

You finally looked up at him “can i stay with you tonight? my parents can’t see me like this” you mumbled.

Matt's heart skipped a beat at your words, hardly believing what he was hearing. Stay with him tonight? At his place?

He knew it was a terrible idea. He knew he should say no, should insist on taking you home like he was supposed to, should maintain the boundaries that kept you safe and their relationship platonic.

But as he looked into your eyes, seeing the vulnerability and desperation there, he knew he couldn't refuse you anything. He was putty in your hands, a puppet with his strings tied to your fingers.

"Okay," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Okay, you can stay at my place tonight."

You pouted even more, fresh tears forming in your eyes “thank you” you said.

Matt felt his heart clench at the sight of fresh tears welling up in your eyes, your plump lower lip trembling slightly as you thanked him.

Without thinking, he reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingertips grazing your soft skin. "Hey, don't cry," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "You don't have to thank me. I'm just... I'm glad I can help."

He swallowed hard, his throat tightening with emotion. "Let's get you home, okay?"

Matt stood up from the cold step, holding out his hand to help you to your feet. As your fingers brushed against his palm, he felt a jolt of electricity course through him, your skin soft and warm against his own.

He led you to his car, opening the passenger door for you and waiting until you were settled inside before closing it gently behind you.

The drive to his house was quiet, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from your direction. Matt reached over and took your hand in his, squeezing it gently as he navigated the dark streets.

As they pulled into his driveway, Matt felt a flicker of nerves twist in his gut. He had never brought a girl back to his house before, had never wanted to risk his parents asking too many questions.

But as he helped you out of the car, steadying you on your unsteady feet, he knew that having you here was worth the risk.

He led you inside, flipping on the dim lamp in the foyer. The house was quiet, his parents long since asleep upstairs.

He turned to you, his heart pounding in his chest as he took in your disheveled appearance, the way your skirt had ridden up your thighs, the slight sway of your step. "You okay?" he asked softly, his voice tight with concern.

You nodded “yeah just… i think i need to lie down”

Matt nodded, his concern growing as he saw how unsteady you were on your feet. "Of course," he said quickly, taking your hand and leading you upstairs to his bedroom.

"Here," he said softly, pulling back the covers for you. "You can sleep in my bed. I'll take the couch."

His breath hitched as he watched you struggle to remove your boots, your balance already compromised from the alcohol coursing through your system. Without hesitation, he stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on your waist to steady you.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and concerned. "Let me help you with that."

He knelt down in front of you, taking one booted foot in his hands. His fingers brushed against your calf as he unzipped the shoe, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. He repeated the process with the other foot, setting both boots aside before standing back up.

"Better?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand remained on your waist, steadying you even though you seemed more stable now.

You nodded and his breath caught in his throat as he watched you slide your skirt down your long, shapely legs. He tried to look away, to give you some semblance of privacy, but he found himself utterly transfixed by the sight of your creamy skin being revealed inch by tantalizing inch.

You took off Matt’s jacket too and hugged yourself tightly as you looked up at him “can i have some pants?” you murmured almost shyly.

Matt swallowed hard as he took in your appearance - the way your long-sleeved t-shirt clung to your curves, the way your panties rode low on your hips, exposing the tempting expanse of skin above your thighs. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, could feel the blood rushing to his head and other places.

"Uh, yeah," he managed to say, his voice slightly hoarse. "Just a sec."

He rummaged through his dresser drawers, pulling out a pair of his oldest, most well-worn sweatpants.

"Here," he said, his hand brushing against yours as he passed them to you. "These should fit you. I think."

He watched as you shimmied into his sweatpants. The sight of you in his clothes, surrounded by his scent, sent a possessive thrill through him.

The sweatpants were far too big on you, the waistband slipping down your hips.

"Thanks," you murmured softly.

You just looked at each other for a while before you looked down and grimaced.

He watched as you pressed a hand to your temple, your face paling slightly. "I think I'm gonna-"

But you didn't finish your sentence before you suddenly turned and stumbled towards the bathroom. Matt's heart raced as he realized what was happening, and he quickly followed after you, just in case you needed him.

Matt rushed into the bathroom just as he heard the sound of you retching violently into the toilet. His heart clenched with concern and he hurried to your side, gathering your hair back from your face with one hand while rubbing soothing circles on your back with the other.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured, his voice low and calming. "I've got you. You're gonna be aight."

As your retching finally subsided, Matt helped you sit back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall.

"Feel better now?" he asked quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You nodded and let out a chuckle “i’m never drinking again”

Matt couldn't help but chuckle softly at your declaration. "Yeah, I hear ya," he said with a wry smile. "Tequila has a way of sneakin‘ up on you like that."

His gaze lingered on your face, taking in the way your skin had lost some of its rosy hue, the way your eyes looked tired and sore.

"C'mon," he said softly, standing up and offering you his hand. "Let's get you back to bed. You need to sleep this off."

You nodded and let him lead you to his bed, sliding underneath the covers and letting him tuck you in.

Matt watched as you curled up under the covers, your eyelids already growing heavy. He stood there for a long moment, just taking in the sight of you in his bed, surrounded by his scent.

His heart ached with a fierce, all-consuming love. He wanted nothing more than to climb in next to you, to hold you close and never let you go. But he knew he couldn't. He had to be strong, had to respect your boundaries, no matter how much it killed him.

Instead, he left for the living room, sneaking one last glance at your tired body before closing the door on his way out.

a/n: guys part two!!! i don’t know if i love this as much but stay tuned cause i already got some ideas for part three where reader finds out about the photograph.

Lots of love,

Mats 💐

[domivancarvalho]

Ivan smiled brightly when Kyle said futbol like that and nodded. "That's the one, yeah. Like, if you're from Brazil like me and you don't like it then there's something definitely wrong with you!" he said with a sounding laughter, happy to be diverting to subjects that were distracting his thoughts of worry about the current situation. "I know I work the uniform just perfectly" he said with a grin, then placed the tip of his fingers on the center of Kyle's chest. "Now we have to see how you work the uniform" he said with a soft chuckle, then nodded. "It sounds like we're going to have our schedules full with all the things we'be doing when the weather gets warmer. I like that idea."

He chuckled. "Overgrown puppies would be a mild statement. But dogs do descend from wolves, so it's a matter of perspective I suppose." He shook his head slightly. "Not really. It's about this couple, who are really together and think their life couldn't be better, then one night they get robbed and he get shot, and killed. His ghosts remains here because he loved her too much to let her go at first, plus it also turns into the search of the man responsible for his death. Romance, drama, suspense and even comedy. What more can you expect from a movie? It's one of my all-time favorites." He thought for second. "It was... more like mist. But I wasn't scared. I didn't get the impression it would hurt me. Then it was gone. Only that one time." He smiled, then grazed his fingertips on the top of Kyle's hand. "Not necessarily. We could use one of the school's scene rooms, and also for many props we may need." He looked him right in the eye. "Yes, I mean everything. But I also mean everything, and anything you want. Nothing more, or less. You decide." He shifted closer. "What would you like us to do, Kyle?"

“Exactly.” Kyle nodded in agreement. “I know how hard it is to be honest with the ones you love, sometimes.” He gave Ivan a reassuring squeeze. Knowing why it was hard for Ivan in this situation, but he hoped for the best. “I think you mean futbol.” Kyle replied teasingly, only because he’d had a similar conversation before. “I say we play tennis. I bet you can work one of those preppy tennis uniforms.” Kyle joked. “We can also cruise, you on your bike and me on my skateboard.” He grinned. “The warm weather is coming. Well, you know I love movies and TV. I also like taking selfies, but I also love swimming and anything I can do outdoors. Camping, hiking, any kind of adventurous stuff.” 

“Or it could be the smartest! Wolves are basically an overgrown puppies.” He nodded confidently. “Is Ghost the name of a romantic ghost movie?” He questioned. “I’ll have to check it out. Was the movie ghost haunting someone because they loved them?” Curious. “Avó.” He repeated. “Was it a nice ghost that you saw? Did they have on clothes? Also, I’m really glad you believe in ghosts.” The younger guy admitted. “Like, at the next masquerade?" He knew that's now how the masquerade worked, but he wondered how the could recreate all the elements of that night. "And when you say redo, you mean like everything?"

[yuseirra]

I watched that part where he appears!! and

it was way too extra I couldn't take it seriously.. why does he have to be so dramatic.. it was sweet though. I think Ai would have appreciated it coming from him

[nochepsicodelica]

Bear Boyfriend Toji ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ᕦʕ •`ᴥ•´ʔᕤ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You've been away for three out of the five days you took off work to spend time with your family. Toji stayed behind for work, but never went a day without letting you know how much he misses you and wants you to come home already. He calls and texts plenty, and you do the same, assuring him that you'll be home soon. He's made a habit of calling you at the same time every night. Two in the morning.

One fifty-nine became two, and as if he knows it's his cue, your phone rings and Toji's contact name appears over a picture of him sleeping on the couch, bundled up in blankets.

"Toji," you say, as if you're expecting an explanation for why he's calling so late. "It's two a.m., baby. What's going on?"

"Hey, pretty girl. I was just wondering when you're coming home," he asks, his voice deep and low, fitting for what time it is.

You let out a hushed laugh on the other end of the line. "The same day, Toji. You asked me this last night and the night before. I'll be back in two days."

He groans, frustratedly. Getting days as a response is the worst thing ever for him, right now. "That's forever from now. I'm starting to go nuts over here by myself. Can't you cut it short? For me?"

"Sorry, baby. I'll be home soon, I promise. I won't be leaving your side for a while. At least not because I want to."

He sighs, the sound riddled with his loneliness. "I fucking miss you, doll. I wasn't gonna do this today, but I can't sleep for shit without you next to me. What normally doesn't bug me when you're here, irritates the hell out me, now. Like the wind shaking the windows and my own tossing and turning."

"I'm sorry, love. I feel something similar to that, too. I hear when my parents open their bedroom door to use the bathroom and one of my little cousins is still up playing videos games right now." You smile when you hear Toji yawning obnoxiously. "I miss your suffocating bear hugs. I wish you were here to put me to sleep."

"Yeah? You miss being held tightly in my arms?"

You can practically hear the smile on his face. "I do," you assure, a smile of your own spreading on your lips.

"What else do you miss about me?"

You laugh at the tone he uses to ask the question. He's expecting something dirty, but you won't be giving that to him. "I miss your handsome face. You know those green eyes are one of my greatest weaknesses when it comes to you."

"Yeah? What else about me makes you weak?"

You hum, already knowing the answer. "Your soft morning kisses... the way you draw shapes on my tummy with your fingers when I can't sleep at night."

"Fuck, I really miss doing those things, ma," he mumbles.

The line goes quiet for a second, but his signal isn't choppy and he hasn't dozed off. He's imagining the softness of your skin and the little stars and circles he would be drawing on your tummy if you were there with him. He's thinking about the hushed bouts of laughter that would ensue when your energy and playfulness comes out at the wrong time—when you're supposed to be sleeping. With a sigh, he continues his restless conversation, spurred on by his longing for you to be with him.

"Come home to me, already. Please?" He sighs, heavily. He's never felt more like a child—unable to sleep without the presence of the person who brings him the most comfort. "Sorry. I'm sounding pretty pathetic here, aren't I?" He asks, a low rumble of his chuckle caught on the line.

"No, you don't, my love. I miss you like crazy, too. It's the longest we've been apart in a while and it seems like we're both going through withdrawals," you say, unable to hold back a small laugh. "Sorry, saying it out loud sounds kinda funny. Makes it sound like we're addicts out of context."

"Well, I'm addicted to you. Miss everything about you."

"Yeah? Like what?" You ask, fully prepared to hear him slip some of his dirty thoughts into it.

"Mm... I miss the way you sleepily kiss the scar on my lips, before you fully wake up in the morning, and the way you run your fingers through my hair when I lay my head on your chest after a shit day at work. And... of course i'm missing the pretty sounds you make when I get between your thighs."

"Toji," you chide, with a giggle.

"Sorry, sorry," he says, through a chuckle. "Just really miss you, doll. Call me dramatic, already."

"No. For what? Not everyone has a partner that would act this way after being apart for only three days. I'm just lucky like that. You love me?"

"You know I do. So fucking much. I miss your body against mine. Not even trying to be a horndog, I swear. Just want your warmth and your kisses back."

"I know, baby. When I get back, we'll cozy up together and take a nice, long nap, and when we wake up, we can do anything you want. Anything, okay?"

"Yeah, alright, doll."

"It'll be okay," you promise. "You tired?"

"Yeah, I'll leave you be so you can get some rest. Just wanted to hear your voice."

"We can stay on the phone," you offer. "'Fall asleep together, if you want. Or is that stupid?" You ask, with a soft laugh.

"Nah, nah, nah, that sounds good, ma. I'd like that a lot," Toji responds, encouragingly. He sets his phone down next to his pillow and puts you on the lowest volume of speaker. Your voice is more audible, but still only meant for him to hear. "You there, doll?" He asks, once he's settled into his comfortable position.

"Yeah. Ready to go to sleep?"

"Mhm. Love you, gorgeous. Talk to you tomorrow."

"Love you, baby. Goodnight."

Toji credits you for the way he was snoring within minutes. Your presence comforted him, even if the physical aspect of it wasn't with him. He spent a couple minutes just staring at the ceiling, but as time went by, his eyelids started feeling heavier, and there was no way he was going to fight it when that was what he needed help with all along.

[loves0phelia]

hello! hope you’re okay after the ending, honestly I don’t think any of us are.

I wanted to request a rafe x pogue reader where it’s that boat storm scene and instead of Sarah falling it’s reader and she’s just drowning and Rafe jumps in after her. He doesn’t know why he did it but he just has a soft spot for her and it’s just really angsty but also cute.

thanks! I love your account btw!

In The Sea

Summery: the anon

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: grammar mistakes

A\N: thank you to everyone who has been requesting it makes me very happy xxx

You stand at the edge of the deck, clutching the railing as the boat rocks, waves rolling against the hull. The salty breeze whips your hair around your face, and the peaceful ocean sounds made you think about the current situation.

You didn't expect Rafe to save you and your friends from being arrested, much less expect him to find a boat big and resistant enough to drive you all to Morocco Africa to find the blue crown. It was truly a surprise considering you and Rafe's history.

“So what? Are we just on our way to Africa now?” Kiara asked the group as if she couldn't believe that Rafe Cameron was willingly helping them.

“Quick little weekend trip?” She added to her previous sentence.

“What about Rafe? We know what he did to the cross and now we want to go after the crown with him?” You and the rest of the pogue's lips go into a thin line at the memory.

“Sarah, you're his family, how do deal with him” John B said, finding no other options.

“I don't- I don't know, I think maybe y/n might have a chance of convincing him to behave but..” she shrugged and you felt the stares of your friends burn holes through you. Your past relationship with him was a secret to nobody.

“We- we just have to talk to him, or at least try” You proposed earning a frown from JJ.

“Talk to Rafe? When has he ever just communicated with us?” 

“Talking to him is the only option we have, but you're definitely not talking with him,” John B said and as expected everyone nodded and hummed, agreeing. JJ was in no place to talk with Rafe.

“Why not? What did I do?” He asked, getting almost frustrated.

“We all know you and him are far from being civil, the last thing we need is you triggering him and causing trouble” His girlfriend, Kiara, tried to explain the easiest way but he still got defensive. After a couple of bickering from JJ and John b You finally decide to go speak with him, who was driving the boat not too far away from the deck.

“Hey,” You knock on the metal and rusted door before entering and walking up to him. His eyes catch yours and there's a tension between the two of you. But Rafe only tilts his head to acknowledge you.

You swallow, feeling the weight of his stare. "We just want to talk," you say, steadying your voice as the rest of your friends beside JJ follow behind you.

“All right let's talk” Rafe chuckles, and it’s low, almost a whisper. 

Your mind goes almost blank as you take him in, you haven't been this close since you were forced in the same room by Sighs men last year. You had almost forgotten how much you missed him.

“You guys be cool I'll be cool” His voice snapped you out of your daydream, realizing you had missed a bit of the conversation.

“So now you want peace?” Pope leaned back and scoffed, not believing a word that came out of his mouth.

“I just saved all your asses, how about a thank you?” He glanced at all of you one by one, but he only earned silence,

“Listen I don't want any part of your little fairytale treasure hunt bullshit, I'm just looking for Groff” He’s breathing heavily, holding himself back from adding more snark,

“Hey, Rafe!” Before anyone can react, JJ’s fist flies through the air, cracking against Rafe’s jaw with a force that echoes.

Rafe’s head snaps back, his expression stunned for a split second before he crumples, hitting the hard metal floor. For a moment, everyone is frantic, staring at the lifeless form sprawled across the floor, his eyes closed, completely knocked out.

“holy shit”

“Jesus JJ what's your problem”

“Whoo that felt good” Tired of JJ's crazy actions the girls walk away shaking their heads in disbelief until you are the only one staying behind.

JJ stands over him, breathing heavily, the adrenaline still pulsing through him as he looks down at Rafe. His fist is red, already bruising, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“What is wrong with you?” You look at him, feeling a rush of shock mixed with panic. You fall to your knees next to Rafe and quickly look over his injuries, softly rubbing your thumb on his jaw.   “If he didn't do it I was going to do it” Pope added only worsening the situation. You shook your head and furrowed your eyebrows at his sentence.

After the pogues agreed it was probably not a good idea to let Rafe free in case he woke up and decided to shoot you all with his “peacemaker” you tied him up in a small cabin. His head hung low, his wrists were bound to a stainless steel pole and his legs were uncomfortably folded beneath him. Your heart clenched at the sight of him but still decided to leave him there until he woke up.

You open the door to the cabin slowly with a tray of warmed-up canned spaghetti in hand, it wasn't the best but it was all the boat had.

“I brought you food..” You whispered before bending down to place the tray in front of him.

“great” he sighed.

“I found aspirin in the medicine cabinet, I figured you'd have a headache, maybe even a concussion” 

“Right… are you gonna throw it in my mouth like a seal or something” He scoffed again clearly angered,

“They don't trust you Rafe… but if you do the right thing maybe they will open up a little bit”

“I am doing the right thing! I helped you” He tried pulling against the restraints but failed. 

“I know okay? I know but unfortunately, I don't have a choice but to let you in here until we get there, I'm sorry” you whispered and pushed the tray closer to him. “Please eat,” You said and left closing the large door behind you.

For a moment you stayed behind the door listening closely. “Y/N come back!” he grunts and kicks his feet on the ground. “Fucking untie me please!!” he screamed and you jumped when you heard the tray you had just put down on the floor fly into the wall.

Pope leaning over the side, is the first to spot the flicker of movement beneath the water. "Guys! I see one!" exclaims, his voice a mixture of excitement and focus. He scrambles for the fishing rod, almost knocking over the tackle box in his rush.

John B is right beside him, laughing. “We've got our dinner!" he laughs.

“Guys, this one’s huge!” Kie giggles with the boys knowing we were all set for dinner time tonight.

You all spent the rest of the day cooking the fish you caught and preparing side dishes with some good music in the background.

Until it was time for Rafa's second meal.

You open the door carefully and his eyes catch yours, this time you don't speak, simply set the tray of seasoned salmon down in front of him.

Has you were about to close the door you hear him.

“Wait, y/n. Can you please- can you give me the fork” his tone is much softer than before so you can't deny him. 

You get down and pick up the utensil his bound hands couldn’t reach.

“Thank you” He murmured, and you barely heard him as you closed the door behind you once again.

The sky darkens ominously as thunder rumbles in the distance, low and threatening. Waves crash harder against the hull of the boat, tossing it with a force that leaves you gripping onto anything within reach. The storm monitor flashes red to show the storm coming ahead of you.

“That's not good,” John B says.

“We're gonna have to try to blast through it,” Pope says, not finding any better options.

“Why can't we go south?” Kie asks genuinely.

“The current is gonna be against us we don't have a choice” John B agreed even after trying to find safer options, the boat's roar has Pope push the lever controlling the engine to the max. 

The waves make the boat shift side to side making it difficult to stay up and steady.

Another massive wave crashes over the side, drenching them all, and you lose your footing, sliding across the deck until Kie grabs your arm, pulling you back.

“Hold on to something” Kie yells at you pope and Sarah and you all grip onto the nearest thing.

“Hey!” a distant voice echoes through the walls.

“Cut me loose! Y/N! Somebody!” Rafe screamed and banged his fists on the wall.

“Get me out of here!” Everyone listens but doesn't move a finger.

“We have to let him out” You scramble to your feet but jerk back when Cleo grabs your wrist.

“No!” she says trying to stop you but you pulled back.

“He's gonna drown” You pull open rapidly the drawers trying to find something sharp, able to cut the thick ropes wrapped around Rafe's hands.

The storm is relentless, its fury tossing you around like a rag doll as you try to reach him.  

You cling to the railing, struggling to stay upright as the boat lurches violently, nearly sending you sprawling across the floor. Your legs buckle under you. You come crashing through the door and walk onto the water-soaked floor knife in hand.

“Cut me loose” he begs.

Crouching in front of him you began frantically cutting the rope. Your muscles burn with how much pressure you're using.

“Shit,” You say when a sudden jerk of the boat makes your face come inches apart from his, lips almost touching. You don't have time to think as you regain your balance and continue cutting the bounds.

“There! Come on” you yelled and quickly grasped his hands to pull him up from the floor.

You both run to shelter but the boat jerks side to side even more violently,

“Something is wrong I have to go see!” 

“No!” Rafe tried holding on to you but you were already rushing away onto the deck where waves came crashing, a massive wave rose out of the dark, towering over the boat like a shadow.

You barely had time to think before it crashed down, an icy, unforgiving wall of water that slammed into you with the force of a sledgehammer. The impact was too strong and you were thrown backward, landing hard on the deck. Pain explodes through your shoulder, the wind knocks from your lungs. Dazed and gasping, you try to get up, but the boat tips again, and before you can stand, another wave strikes.

This one is worse, merciless, catching you just as you struggle to rise. Your fingers graze the edge of the railing, but the slick metal slips through your grasp. In an instant, the world spins as you are thrown away from the boat, the cold, raging ocean swallowing you whole.

The water is a shock, freezing and chaotic, disorienting you as you plunge beneath the surface. You thrash, fighting to reach the surface, lungs burning, but the waves toss you back and forth, each effort to rise met with another rush of icy water.

Back on the boat, Rafe catches a glimpse of you disappearing over the side, and his heart stops. “Y/N!” he screams, panic cutting through the storm. Without a second thought, he scrambles to the railing, nearly slipping himself as he peers out into the dark, searching for any sign of you.

“Where is she!” Sarah came rushing to her brother

“She fell overboard” he yells already reaching for a rope with the floating boyee. He’s soaked, exhausted, and barely steady, but there’s no hesitation as he jumps in after you.

“Rafe no!” She screams after her brother.

A wave slams into Rafe. “Y/N!!” he yells in the water as he sees you trying to stay above the water far away.

With the last of your strength, You swim faster and harder towards Rafe and reach out when you're near, fingers brushing his arm, grasping it tight. Rafe holds you with everything he has.

“I got you” But you don't hear him in the storm.

You both hold on to each other your arms around his neck and his around your waist as the boat floats away and the night turns into a void.

“Hey, open your eyes, look at me” You feel gentle hands grasping on your face as you finally sit up coughing out the water that filled your lungs.

“That's it” The hands rub your back in a comforting way.

The sand is hot beneath you, warming up your skin, and with exhaustion, you fall onto Rafe's chest.

“Hey you okay?” panicked, he grabs onto your shoulder and pushes you a little bit to take a good look at your face.

“You jumped after me,” you whispered.

“Of course I did”  You look up at him, heart pounding, feeling a rush of gratitude, fear, and something deeper—something that’s been smouldering beneath the surface, unspoken, for far too long. Your eyes shine with tears, not sad and not happy either but grateful. 

His hand reaches up, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin. His touch is warm, and grounding, and you feel your heart racing even faster under his gaze, intense and unreadable, like he’s seeing you for the first time.

Without another thought, you lean in, closing the space between the two of you as you press your lips to his, a spark igniting into a wildfire the moment you connect. Rafe’s surprise melts away instantly, and he kisses back, fierce and unrestrained, his hands finding your waist.

The kiss is charged, fueled by adrenaline, and a longing that neither of you can deny any longer. Your hands find his shoulders, clinging to him, grounding you in his warmth, his strength, the feel of his heartbeat thundering beneath your touch. 

Rafe’s fingers trail up your back, sending shivers along your spine, and his lips move against yours with an urgency that speaks of everything left unspoken.

When you finally pull apart, breathless, Rafe’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes searching yours as he lets out a shaky laugh, almost in disbelief.

“You saved my life” you smile, brushing a thumb over his cheek, still feeling the warmth of his kiss lingering on your lips. “I love you, I've always loved you” you whisper, and before you know it, you're kissing again, the ocean waves crashing nearby, the world forgotten as you lose yourselves in each other.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered.

Send request xxx

[heartsbyani]

⋆˙⟡ ⌇ 방찬 : UNDERNEATH THE SHEETS ── aftercare with your boyfriend, after a particularly long and rough night.

𓍯 idolbf!chan ʚଓ fem!reader ：（ 𝒾 ）0.8k ── ༯ HEADCANON, fluff, humour, care, req. by anon! . ⸝⸝𓂃 LiBRARY . /ᐠ.ꞈ.ᐟ\ྀིྀི

yani's note ˖˙ ᰋ okay, this may have come as a surprise since i don't post any mdni content.. however it is mostly unexplicit ! thank you to my lovely anon for requesting this, hope i have written it to your expectations! (╥﹏╥). though i may have had a hard time writing this lmao. comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated ! happy reading <3

“are you sure you’re okay?” his voice was soft, but there was a slight tremor in it — a clear indication of how worried he was.

the room was steeped in a comforting silence, the only sound being the faint hum of the air conditioner and the rustle of soft sheets as his girlfriend shifted slightly. the glow from the moonlight filtered through the blinds, casting silvery streaks over the rumpled bed. chan, who was nuzzled in the curve of her neck, looked up slightly to see her flushed-and-fucked-out face, breath heavy. his eyes, apologetic and half lidded, his expression a mix of concern and tenderness.

her hair was a mess, cheeks flushed, but her eyes sparkled with affection. she reached out, cupping his jaw in her hand, thumb brushing against his cheekbone. “i told you, i'm as good as ever, chris.”

he frowned, clearly unconvinced, his brows furrowing in that adorable way that always made her heart flip, as he lifted himself slightly to look at her better. “was i too rough? did i hurt you? can you walk? you don't need to lie i can delay my schedule tomorrow-”

"what? no, no!" y/n frowned, and leaned in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “chan, baby, i literally told you it was amazing, like, five times already. you didn’t hurt me, at all. i told you i was okay with it and i really am.”

“if anything, i’m kinda hoping for a repeat performance sometime soon.”

that made him flush a deep crimson, his ears turning a shade of pink that she absolutely adored. he groaned, burying his face in his hands, muttering, “oh my god, you’re gonna kill me.”

"really, can't believe that you're all shy now considering how you were practically cho-"

he groaned, falling back down and nuzzling into her neck as his hands covered his crimson ears, while the girl under him only laughed.

she tugs his hands away so she could see his whole face. “i mean it, though. you were incredible.” her fingers traced gentle patterns along his forearm, grounding him. “but,” she added with a small smile, “i do love seeing this side of you, too. all soft and caring and…” she paused, tapping her chin thoughtfully, “a little overdramatic.”

“overdramatic?” he echoed, feigning offense, though the corners of his lips twitched upward. “i’m just making sure you’re okay! is that a crime?”

“not at all,” she said, leaning in to kiss him softly. her lips lingered against his for a moment before she pulled back, resting her forehead against his. “but seriously, chan. i’m okay. i feel… happy. loved. really, really good.”

he let out a shaky breath, his shoulders relaxing a little. “okay,” he murmured. “if you’re sure.”

“i’m sure.” she smiled, tucking herself closer to him, her head resting against his chest. his heartbeat was steady beneath her ear, a soothing rhythm that made her feel completely at ease.

chan wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer. his fingers trailed up and down her back in slow, gentle strokes, the gesture both comforting and intimate. “you’re amazing, you know that?” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “i don’t deserve you.”

y/n tilted her head to look up at him, her expression softening. “don’t say that,” she murmured, reaching up to brush her fingers through his curls. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, chris. i’d choose you a thousand times over.”

his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, emotion flickering in his dark eyes. “you’re too good to me.”

“i think it’s the other way around,” she teased, poking his chest lightly. “you’re literally the sweetest, most thoughtful person ever. and, not to mention, ridiculously handsome.”

he chuckled, his cheeks tinting pink again. “you’re biased.”

“maybe a little,” she admitted with a grin. “but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

they lay there for a while, wrapped up in each other. chan’s hands never stopped moving—one smoothing over her hair, the other tracing invisible shapes along her spine. y/n felt herself relaxing further, her body melting into his warmth.

“do you want some water?” he asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the comfortable silence. “or hot cocoa to make up? i can get you something if you’re hungry.”

she laughed softly, shaking her head. “i’m good, just tired. just wanna stay here with you.”

his lips curved into a small smile as he pressed another kiss to her forehead. “okay. but if you need anything, you tell me, yeah?”

“i will,” she promised, nuzzling closer. “you’re such a worrier.”

“can you blame me?” he said, his tone light but sincere. “i just… i care about you. so much.”

her heart swelled at his words, and she tilted her head to capture his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. when she pulled back, she rested her hand against his cheek, her thumb brushing over his skin. “i care about you, too. more than you know.”

they stayed like that, tangled up in each other, sharing soft whispers and quiet laughter. chan’s initial worry had melted away, replaced by a deep sense of contentment. he held her like she was the most precious thing in the world, and to him, she was.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Ghost Eater

Summary: You don't like exorcists. They don't much like you either.

-----

You’d always thought big restaurants like the Brownie Industry only did well in small, midwestern towns like the one you came from. A year working in LA has taught you that, no matter where you go, people will always love garlic bread and sugar.

It’s your day off which means you’re pulling a double shift. You haven’t had time to wash your hair for the past two weeks so it’s frizzing out of your claw clip and flying wild around your face. The lighting is so dim that you’ve tripped over two black purses already, luckily not while you’re running food. The big dining room sounds like an apiary with the tittering laughter of the later adult crowd that’s filtered in from the theater across the four lane road. The main difference between the Brownie Industry here and the one back home is size. The ceiling soars overhead, supported by a series of concrete pillars separating the dining area into three sections.

Normally it would be three servers per section. Today, it’s just you in yours.

One more hour. That’s what the manager promised you. It might even be true if the host stand quits seating you after the table you’re approaching.

There are three people at the table. A woman whose hair might be light blonde or gray in the light of day, her eyes light and piercing. Her face is soft from age, emphasized by the tight, lace collar of her off-season sweater. She reminds you strongly of your mom’s nemesis on the HOA board. The man couldn’t be more out of place next to her despite their equivalent age. He’s wearing a leather jacket – again, it’s not cold here – and a Norwegian metal shirt underneath. His hair is definitely white, so white it almost glows. He’s frowning at the teenager across the table as if she’s touched his motorcycle without permission.

The teenager might be the first you’ve seen all night who doesn’t have their phone out. She’s decked out in what you consider grandma florals – a t-shirt scattered with daisy chains, a bucket hat made out of nana’s carpet bag, and a hand-crocheted scarf in pastel.  You can’t really see her face under the shadow of her hat and there’s an odd, blurred quality to the way she fiddles with her napkin. You let your eyes skip past her and back to the two adults. Teenagers don’t pay the bill.

“Welcome to Brownie Industry!” you chirp. You’re sweaty and red but the faded yellow light hides that. You’re a service industry pro so none of your exhaustion shows on your face when you ask, “Is this your first-time dining with us?”

If you weren’t so burned out, you’d have noticed before you introduced yourself.

“Are you Grady?” the woman asks. Her voice is more posh than you expected even with her lace collar. “Grady Pace?”

Fuck. There’s a noticeable temperature differential now that you’re close to them. The restaurant is warm from the number of bodies, maybe even warmer than the summer air outside, but stepping up next to their table feels like walking into an ice rink.

“I’m your waitress,” you say. You don’t have time for this conversation. You’ve got five minutes in your cycle to take their order and then you’ve got food to run. “If you need any other services from me, I have a website.”

“We messaged you,” the man says. His lips thin to the point his thick mustache covers them entirely. “You never responded.”

Because you’ve been making more money at the Brownie Industry than your other job. “I’ll take a look at it tonight.”

“Wait,” the teenager says, sitting upright. She looks from you to the adults and back again. When she smiles, there’s no humor in it. “This is why we drove eight hours to have dinner at the Brownie Industry? For her?”

“Katie, be polite—”

“I’m sorry,” Katie says, “It’s just—I found a priest, you know? An actual exorcist priest and you guys want to trust a waitress over him?”

“Ugh exorcists,” you say. The memory of sour cabbage is so heavy on your tongue that you stick your tongue out in disgust. When you see Katie’s look, you backtrack. “Effective! Definitely effective.”

“Your mistakes have cost us too much already,” the man says, shaking a finger at her. “We are not converting just for an exorcism.”

“I normally don’t agree with your father,” the woman tells Katie, “but in this case I would like to leave conversion as a last resort.”

“We wouldn’t actually convert,” Katie says, rolling her eyes.

“Pretty sure exorcists can tell when you lie,” you tell Katie. When her scowl deepens, you clear your throat. “Did you all need another minute to think about the menu?”

“We need you to help us,” the dad says. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Look, I know you’re at work and I’m sorry we’re bothering you.”

“We’re desperate,” the mom says. She reaches for her purse. “We’ll pay you. Triple the rate on your website or even quadruple. We need that thing gone by tonight.”

Katie covers her face. “Mom. You’re embarrassing me. Terry isn’t that bad.”

“Oh, he’s bad, young lady,” the dad says sternly. “A bad influence.”

“We caught her trying to perform another séance yesterday,” the mom confesses to you. She leans forward with a pinched expression. “So Terry’s friend Larry could visit too.”

“Interesting,” you say. The food bell rings, but you think you can ignore it for another minute. You study Katie’s blush. “Why did you do that?”

If she was being compelled, she won’t have an answer to your question. You’ve dealt with a lot of ghosts in your time, but so few are sentient enough – or powerful enough – for compulsion.

“Go on,” the dad says, gesturing at you. “Tell her.”

“Leroy, she’s embarrassed enough,” the mom says.

“No, she’s not, Sarah.” The dad – Leroy – gestures to you again. “Tell her.”

Katie huffs, clearly resistant. But when her dad huffs back, she caves. “So,” she says, “I have this YouTube channel—”

“I’m off in an hour,” you interrupt. You don’t care that you’re being rude. Your patience ran out as soon as she said YouTube. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.” You turn to go.

“A moment!” Sarah shakes out her menu. “How’s the nicoise salad?”

Of course they’re going to order. They’d better tip too if they want you to help them with their ghost problem.

----.

“You said an hour,” mom Sarah says when you leave out the employee entrance. She’s shivering next to her daughter. Leroy is off smoking behind his motorcycle, parked next to the Tesla Katie is leaning on, but he stubs out his cigarette on the asphalt when you walk up. “It’s been two.”

“I had side work,” you say instead of it would have been one if not for you. You rub your bare arms when the familiar ghost chill washes over you. You want nothing more than to go home and wash the scent of garlic and brownie batter out of your hair. “Was there something wrong with my service?”

“No?”

You try to make your voice light. “I see.”

Sarah frowns at your tone anyway. “Why?”

“You tipped five dollars.”

Katie jolts like a scalded cat. “Mom!”

Leroy scrubs a hand over his face. “Sarah…”

“What?” Sarah throws up her hands. The parking lot lights catch on her Swarovski charm bracelet. “I tipped!”

“Like ten percent,” Katie says. She pulls her bucket hat over her eyes for a beat and then peeks at you from under it. “I’m so sorry. It’s not you, she’s always like this.”

“It was actually a six percent tip,” you say. You’re getting a clearer picture of this little family now. It’s becoming more and more understandable why Katie might have started summoning ghosts. “If you want to be precise.”

Leroy reaches for his back pocket. “Let me.”

Sarah swats at his hand. “We’re about to pay her a lot more than that!”

“For a completely separate job,” Leroy says. He pulls a twenty from his wallet and hands it to you with a grimace. “Sorry, Grady, I should’ve checked.”

“You should’ve paid if you cared so much,” Sarah retorts. She folds her arms over her chest. She taps her cheek and widens her eyes. “Oh wait… you never pay.”

“Sure,” Leroy says. This time it’s his turn to throw his hands in the air. “Sure, Sarah. I don’t pay for anything to do with our daughter’s private school or her dance classes or her health insurance—”

“If the court hadn’t mandated—”

“You make twice as much as me—"

“Guys!” Katie says loudly. Her mouth is a thin line of upset when she says, “Argue about what an expensive burden I am later when we don’t have an audience, okay?”

Her parents speak at the same time.

“You’re twisting my words,” Sarah says. “I never said—"

“Sweetie, you’re not a burden—”

“Can you just get this ghost out of me?” Katie asks you. She goes for nonchalance and falls short. “My parents haven’t been in the same room for the last five years for a reason.” She fakes whispering. “They don’t play nicely with others.”

Sarah bristles. “Katie.”

“God, I know how that is,” you say. The whole interaction is giving you the worst case of sympathy for Katie. Before her parents can say anything else, you change the subject. “How long have you been haunted?”

“Six months,” Katie says. She fiddles with her bucket hat so that you can see her eyes for the first time. They’re brown, like her dad’s, and have heavy bruises underneath. She shrugs. “They only noticed a month ago though.”

“I noticed your behavior had changed,” Sarah defends. Like her daughter, she fidgets. She plays with her bracelet and clears her throat. “I thought it was a teenage thing.”

“What signs did you notice first?” you ask the parents. They glance at each other and then away.

“Let’s just say we noticed different things,” Leroy says dryly. He pulls out his phone.

“Moodiness,” Sarah says. She ticks them off on her fingers. “Laziness. Disrespect. Over-sleeping.”

“Those are just teenager things,” Katie says with an astounding level of self awareness. She shrugs. “I’m a senior now. They’re lucky it didn’t start sooner.”

“I,” Leroy says, “noticed this.” He turns his phone towards you.

“Ah,” Sarah says, “Yes. That.”

You examine the picture. It’s of Katie on a small dirt bike. She’s wearing a helmet in the picture, but you recognize the fashion sense in the floral boots she’s wearing. The scene behind her is of the hills, low scrub brush recognizable to someone who’s lived in LA for the past five years. On the bike behind her is a smudge. It could be a cloud of dirt blown into frame or maybe a camera glitch. It could be if it weren’t for the leering face emerging from the cloud right behind her head.

“I just want to say I did not agree to getting her a motorcycle,” Sarah says.

“Mom, not the point,” Katie says.

“Look how close that creep is to my daughter,” Leroy says. He jabs a finger at Katie’s waist in the photo where you can see a ghostly hand. “I want him gone.”

“Dad, he didn’t mean anything by it!” Katie turns to you earnestly. “Terry never rode a bike before and I thought, like, what if he moved on after he got a chance to? It was a philanthropic effort!”

“Plant a tree if you want to be a philanthropist,” Leroy growls. “I want this guy away from my daughter.”

“He doesn’t mean any harm really,” Katie says. “He would move on if he could! He says he’s stuck to me because of how I summoned him. He’s like, really sorry. He even spelled out Sorry in the bathroom mirror once.”

“What,” Sarah says in a dangerous voice, “was Terry doing in the bathroom with you, Katie?”

Katie splutters. “Mom, don’t be gross!”

The family descends into bickering. You have heard about ghosts being stuck to a person before, but usually that’s when the person has some sort of psychic powers. Katie’s wearing crystal in her ears, but they aren’t charged. She might develop some talent later in life, but right now she’s a normal girl.

The parking lost is nearly empty now. You recognize a few employee cars, but very few customers. The kitchen will be cleaning for another half hour before they’re ready to go home.  The reality is that, if Terry is stuck, you might not be the best way to handle the situation. If he’s not…

Well.

It’s time to talk to Terry.

Opening your ghost sense is hard to describe. Some psychics liken it to a third eye, right in the middle of their forehead. You’ve always thought that sounded really cool like maybe the world gets cast in a blue hue when they do it and the dead appear like they do in movies. You’ve met other psychics who say it’s like a sixth sense. They know where the ghost is and it’s like they download all that information until their minds can just sort of conjure their image.

For you, it’s like letting your body remember it has a second mouth. Cats have an extra sensory organ on the roof of their mouth that lets them detect scents better. Your second mouth is a bit like that. You can still smell brownies and garlic and the city air of LA, but you can also smell/taste something else.

Something like…pepper?

Your eyes water and you sneeze so viciously that your eyes close. When you open them again, four people are staring at you in surprise.

“Gesundheit,” Leroy says.

“You sneeze like Dad does,” Katie says.

“Did no one ever teach you to cover your mouth?” Sarah asks in disgust.

“I wish you would’ve sneezed on her,” Terry says, nodding to Sarah. “She’s such a bitch.”

“Thank you for the commentary, everyone,” you say. You wipe your nose with the collar of your shirt as you consider Terry. It’s dirty anyway. “Terry. Interesting name for a ghost.”

Terry hasn’t noticed that you can see him yet. He’s floating behind Katie, one arm casually flung over her shoulder. It’s hard to place when he died based on his appearance alone. His hair is chin length, emphasizing the width of his jaw. Squire cuts have been popular for several decades and the bowling shirt he’s wearing could either be a modern fashion statement or a dated uniform. He looks to be in his mid-twenties, sun-kissed and with the air of someone who tells a lot of jokes at the expense of others. His arm around Katie strikes you as possessive, the glare he gives her parents venomous.

“I didn’t name him,” Katie says. “He said it’s short of Torrance.”

You blink. “Wouldn’t he be Torri then?”

“That’s a girl’s name,” Katie and Terry say at the same time. Their cadence is so close that it actually sounds like Terry’s baritone comes out of Katie’s mouth. For a moment, his arm flickers, clipping into her shoulder like a bad animation. When it does, Terry’s form grows brighter, more solid. Then Katie shivers and he’s forced out of her.

You and Terry click your tongues at the same time.

You remember how Katie’s hands seemed to blur at the dinner table. Terry’s not just haunting Katie. He’s trying to possess her. You wonder if that’s why Katie looked up an exorcist rather than a simple spiritual cleansing. Did she know how much danger she was in?

“Okay,” you say. You tear your attention away from Katie and Terry for a moment. Business first. “Sarah. Leroy. Who was it that found my site?”

“I did,” Sarah says. She raises her chin when you can’t hide your surprise. “When Katie was looking up exorcists—”

“She didn’t mean it,” Terry says. He pats Katie’s hat. “Right?”

“—I looked up alternative solutions,” Sarah says, not having heard Terry. Her confidence falters for a moment and she rubs her arm. “I have had some… negative experiences with exorcisms. I don’t want my daughter to go through that.”

Katie’s head whips towards her mother. “What? I didn’t know that.”

“It was a long time ago,” Leroy says. For the first time, he reaches out and hugs Sarah with one arm. You don’t know what surprises you more; Leroy hugging Sarah or Sarah leaning into his side. “When Sarah told me, we decided to put our differences aside. I vetted you through some of my contacts and they all agreed you’d be a safe bet.”

“I am,” you say. You’re not bragging either. You’re probably the safest bet in half the western states besides your older sister. “There are some…peculiarities in my method.”

“Charlatan,” Terry whispers in Katie’s ear. He’s grinning now. “Only charlatans are that confident. Look! She can’t even see me!”

Katie looks doubtful.

Usually, you’d try to talk to Terry at this point. Sometimes spirits can be negotiated with. They can be encouraged to move on or to take on a less aggressive form of haunting. Those that are truly stuck can be helped with the right sort of ritual work. But the way Terry’s affecting Katie’s mood and that fucking arm around her shoulders…

You don’t really want to talk to Terry.

“We can ask Terry to move on,” you tell the family.

“Nooooooo,” Terry says and flips you off. “Pass!”

“Sometimes spirits don’t realize how deeply they’re affecting their hosts,” you say.

“You don’t even know how deep I’m about to be,” Terry jeers at you.

“Many ghosts are confused when they’re called to interact with the living,” you say. “It can blur their understanding of death and, as a result, they cling to life. If they stick around long enough, their presence will affect the living like what’s happening to Katie. It’s not always malicious. It can be a symptom of that confusion.”

“Katie, tell her to piss off,” Terry hisses in the teen’s ear. “I’m not confused, I’m bored.” His voice deepens. “Tell her we don’t need her help. Tell her we’re going home.”

Katie opens her mouth robotically. “That’s…” Her brow creases as she tries to figure out what she was going to say. “It seems like we don’t need help then. Terry will move on when he’s ready, like I thought.”

“We aren’t paying you for a ghost therapy session,” Sarah snaps. It’s only because you’re really focusing that you can see the unease under her anger. She’s noticed something wrong with Katie. “Katie, Terry is going away today.”

“Fuck you,” Terry says.

“Fuck you,” Katie says.

Leroy’s head rears back. “Katie, you don’t use that language with your mother!”

“Fuck you too,” Katie and Terry say. The parking lot lights flicker.

“No, fuck you, Terry,” you say, stepping between Katie and her parents. Leroy starts like he’s going to pull you out of the way, but he doesn’t.

“Terry?” Leroy asks. He looks scared. “Terry said that? Is Terry possessing my daughter?”

“Not yet.” You eye Terry’s arm and the way his fingers are sinking into Katie’s arm.

“Oh fuck,” Terry says. He doesn’t look scared. Not yet. Instead, he grins. “You can see me.”

“Not every ghost is malicious,” you tell the parents without taking your eyes off Terry. “But some are.”

“I’m not malicious.” Terry runs a hand through his hair, still grinning. The parking lot lights flicker overhead again. “I care about Katie a lot.”

“Terry’s never hurt me,” Katie says.

You ignore her. She’s not even shaking Terry off now. Her gaze is dull on your face when you say, “I don’t mean to sound like I’m some sort of ghost therapist. However, it’s important to differentiate between malicious and non-malicious hauntings in my practice. My methods are unconventional and, if used indiscriminately, I can get in a lot of trouble.”

“We won’t tell anyone,” Leroy says. He steps into your periphery. His gaze flicks from you to the spot you’re staring at over Katie’s shoulder. “We want Terry gone.”

“Not a soul,” Sarah promises. She comes up on your other side. “Please help our daughter.”

“Terry,” you say. Your second mouth is yawning wide somewhere in the back of your brain. The taste of pepper isn’t as overwhelming now. “Last chance. Renounce your claim on Katie’s soul and slither back into whatever hole you came out of.”

“We’re soulmates,” Terry says. He bares his teeth at you. “Go on, Charlatan. Call on your God to banish me. I’ve been around for decades and no exorcist has ever been able to put a scratch on me. And when they manage to push me out?” He laughs and the temperature drops another ten degrees. An unholy light flickers in his eyes. “I just come right back.”

“Then I guess I won’t feel guilty,” you say.

“Guilty?” Katie asks.

You walk forward two steps and grab Terry’s face. Terry’s skin is soft and jelly-like. His facial bones undulate like rubber under your grip. “Hi, Terry.”

Now Terry’s afraid. “What the fuck, you can touch—?”

“Bye, Terry.” You drag him towards you. His fingers pop out of Katie’s arm with a wet sucking sound, and he claws at your wrist.

“Wait! Waitwaitwaitwait--”

You eat Terry.

People come from all around to eat at the Brownie Industry. They love the density of the desserts and the heaps of garlic spread over home-baked (shipped frozen) rolls. It’s a treat to know you’re always going to enjoy the meal even if you’re far from home or eating at the same location a hundred times. It’s consistency, sugar and butter. An easy addiction to have.

Eating ghosts is like that for you. They fizz in your second mouth like champagne and melt like fudge. It’s hard to describe and the ephemeral quality of it sends shivers down your spine. Somewhere Terry is screaming in anguish, maybe crying. You think that the family you’re helping is screaming something too, but the sensation of eating is so consuming you can’t hear the words.

Terry is younger than other ghosts you’ve eaten. He doesn’t have the depth of flavor you’d once been addicted to back in Illinois. The best ghost you’ve ever eaten had been like a six-course meal with all the centuries she’d been carrying. In comparison, Terry is like a bag of pepper chips. Interesting, but gone in a moment. Still, he hits the spot.

When you’re done, you burp a purple cloud of ectoplasm into the still night air.

Leroy is the first to speak. His eyes are so wide you can see the whites all around them. “Pay her, Sarah,” he says breathlessly. His hands shake as he reaches for Katie, steadying her on her feet. “Now.”

You smack your lips and graciously accept the wad of cash Sarah hands you. You raise your eyebrows. “This is more than three times my rate.”

“Consider it a tip,” Sarah says. She’s more composed than Leroy, but still pale. She studies you. “That was…revolting.”

“You didn’t have to watch,” you say. You put your money away and then perk up at a sudden thought. “Hey, if you can, can you leave me a review on my site?”

“I thought you didn’t want us to tell anyone?”

You wave your hand. “Secrets are bad for business. Besides, Terry deserved it. I’m sure they’ll understand if you write that in your review.”

“They…?”

You smile and don’t answer.

The family don’t ask many more questions after that. The parents promise to leave a review and Katie just stares at you as if concussed. You assure the parents that she’ll be back to normal as soon as the soul-shock wears off. 

“And if it doesn’t?” Sarah asks.

“Message me,” you say.

“You don’t check your messages,” Leroy says.

“Oh,” you say, patting your stomach, “I’ll be checking them a lot more often now.”

You’re hungry again.

---

(Patreon)

[muniimyg]

♡ 01: maybe it's all in my head

series m.list // taglist

note: hihiii ,, this jk has been rotting my mind for a while now ... time to ruin urs !!! enj the tension ,, (i miss being toxic) lmk what u guys think of their dynamic tho <3 excited to share their little story with u ,, mwaaaa

warnings: oc and jk are mean in this fic !!! pls don't comment being whiney abt it :') !!! oc overhears jk fucking someone ,, jealousy ,, banter

//

“oh. it’s you.”

leaning against the doorframe, jungkook looks at you half disgusted and half disappointed. his arms are crossed with one eyebrow lifted. he blocks your entrance.

“now, now,” you reach over and ruffle his hair. he shifts, dodging your touch. “don’t be so excited. i know your boring life just waits for my presence—oh. i get it. were you expecting someone? usually you’re thrilled to see me.”

jungkook’s expression doesn’t shift, though there’s a faint glint in his eyes. 

“thrilled is reaching, don’t you think?”

“is it?”

“yeah.”

you roll your eyes, brushing past him with a teasing smile. 

“right, so… which are you today? mr. save the dolphins or professor chem?”

jungkook scoffs at you.

“at least my marine conservation interest and organic chem major help the world. what’s your major again? yap-conomics or bitch-ology?”

“help the world?” you almost burst into laughter. “god, you are such a nerd.”

“nerd? i don’t know about you, but some of us care about—”

“yeah, yeah,” you wave him off. “are you waiting for a nobel peace prize or something? holy shit, jungkook. learn to relax a little. you’re so serious. it’s cute, really… but only when you aren’t so anal about it.”

cute?

jungkook feels his chest tighten.

before he can make a comeback, taehyung calls you to the living room.

“___? is that you? stop trying to edge jungkook! get in here! i need your data for our paper!” 

you stick your tongue out at jungkook before turning away and rushing to the living room. your lips curl into a smug grin as you saunter off, leaving jungkook muttering something under his breath. you catch him rolling his eyes just before you disappear around the corner, a small flicker of triumph igniting in your chest.

the living room is warm, filled with the faint hum of taehyung’s lo-fi playlist and the smell of old books—his aesthetic, no doubt. taehyung is sprawled on the couch, laptop open, an arm draped lazily over the cushions. his wide grin grows wider when he sees you. 

“i’m here!”

“finally! come on, genius. enlighten me,” he says, patting the seat next to him.

you plop down beside him, legs folded under you, your laptop balanced precariously on your knees. “genius? are you sucking up to me because you didn’t do your part of the project yet?”

“yup,” he says, shrugging, his head tilted lazily to the side. “if you don’t send me that data tonight, though, i might call you something less flattering.”

you laugh, the sound soft and light, and lean into the cushions, already pulling up the necessary files. 

“your boyfriend’s in a mood.”

“he always is when you’re around,” taehyung teases. “he only answered the door cos he thought it was his student. your face must’ve pissed him off.”

chuckling at his response, you ask another question. 

“where are the guys?”

“they’ll be home soon,” taehyung answers. “said they wanna eat out tonight after jungkook’s tutoring session. you coming with?”

“sure,” you agree. 

then, the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, bouncing ideas back and forth while taehyung clicks through your notes, occasionally throwing in a sarcastic remark or two that makes you nudge him with your elbow.

a few minutes later, you hear an unfamiliar laugh and footsteps approaching.

jungkook strides in, casual and confident as always, but this time a girl is trailing after him. 

she’s pretty. 

the two exchange a few murmured words before jungkook’s eyes flicker briefly in your direction. he raises a hand in a lazy acknowledgment, the girl following suit, and say hi. taehyung nods at them and then they’re gone—slipping upstairs in the blink of an eye. 

the sound of his bedroom door clicking shut echoes faintly.

and then, it rings in your ear. 

you blink, your fingers frozen mid-typing on the keyboard. something gnaws at your chest, sharp and unfamiliar, leaving a bitter taste at the back of your throat. taehyung, oblivious, scrolls through your notes, muttering about formatting errors.

but you… you’re somewhere else entirely. 

what was that?

no name?

no introduction?

did she think you were taehyung's girlfriend or something? that jungkook was all for her?

oh god.

there's a weird twist in your stomach. it feels like a prickle of irritation spreading across your skin like an itch you can’t scratch… you shake your head, trying to brush it off, but the image of jungkook—smirking as usual, leaning casually against the banister, that girl so effortlessly fitting into the space beside him—lingers, stubborn and unshakable…

what the fuck.

it’s not like you and jungkook are close. 

you’re frenemies, at best. 

unsure of when it started exactly—but it’s been happening long enough for it to be routine and well-known in the friendgroup. you two are the kind of people who throw jabs at each other during game nights and compete to see who can make the snarkiest comment without crossing the line. you’re always caught in this stupid cycle of one-upping each other, all for the entertainment of the group. sometimes, more for yourself. life gets boring pretty quickly, and jungkook is your fastest source of entertainment. 

yet, why does it feel like you’ve just lost some unspoken game?

your chest tightens, and you lower your gaze to your laptop, fingers hovering over the keys. you bite the inside of your cheek, a nervous habit you’ve never been able to kick… this icky feeling begins to take over and your mind races with reasons as to why.

maybe it’s because jungkook’s always been so good at getting under your skin. 

maybe it’s because, for all his teasing and relentless bickering, there’s this… comfort in knowing that he’s always there, right across the table, firing back at you like he knows exactly how to push your buttons.

and maybe that’s the problem.

because now, with someone else upstairs, laughing at something he probably said, you’re starting to realize that you might actually care more than you thought.

maybe you care because you’re not the one in his room he’s trying to make laugh.

after a few hours pass, everyone’s stomach beings to grumble. 

for the past 20 minutes, the guys have been begging you to go up and call jungkook down. he hasn’t been answering their texts and all argue that if they go up and knock; he’ll just ignore them. 

… but if you do it…

he’ll answer.

even if it’s just to insult you. 

you glance up at the clock, already mentally calculating the time. you're not really in the mood for another round of back-and-forth with him, but you know they'll just keep pushing you.

"please, please, please, ___!” taehyung cries, pouting. “i really need pad thai. like… so bad. like, i might die. please go get jungkook.”

you hesitate, your eyes flicking to the stairs. 

jungkook hasn’t come out at all. you don’t want to disturb anything and he’s a total grumpy-head when his study time is disrupted… what more if it’s a tutoring lesson? the last time you went up there, it ended with you calling him a dumbass and him tossing a pillow at you.

“i think you guys can go get him this time," you say, turning your attention back to your phone, pretending to scroll through a message.

"oh come on," jimin presses. "you know, at the end of the day… he only really listens to you." his voice drips with exaggeration, but it only makes you roll your eyes.

"yeah, that’s true…" hobi adds with a playful smirk, leaning back into the couch. "you’re like his… little bitch or something."

you shoot them both a look. “you think i’m his bitch?"

“either that or he’s your little bitch.”

you scoff at him. “please do not disgrace bitches by associating them with him.”

“fine, fine,” jin says with a dramatic sigh, raising his hands in mock surrender. “we won’t force you to go up… we’ll bribe you!”

your interest piques as you glance up at him, eyebrow raised. 

“bribe me? how much cash do you have today?”

yoongi and nam joon share a look. then, nam joon leans forward, his eyes twinkling mischievously. 

“milk tea," he offers, his voice low and enticing, like he knows exactly what will catch your attention. "… any boba store you want. any time… for a week, ___.”

you try to fight the grin that starts tugging at your lips. 

fuck it. 

you nod begrudgingly, slipping your phone into your pocket. 

“deal.”

taehyung bursts out laughing. “deal."

with a resigned sigh, you head for the stairs. 

as you climb up, you prepare yourself. 

you prepare yourself for his death glare and the innocent girl in the background. you prepare yourself for his snarky comments and his sweet tone of voice the minute he turns around to talk to her. you prepare yourself to feel sick to your stomach again. 

as you stand in front of his bedroom door and raise your fist to knock—you hear it. 

rather, you hear them. 

the unmistakable sound of his voice, muffled but clear enough that you can make out the low hum of his tone, followed by a girl’s laugh—a breathy, high-pitched laugh that makes your stomach twist.

you freeze, standing in the doorway, caught between disbelief and something you can’t quite name. your heartbeat picks up in your chest, your body tensing as the reality of the situation settles over you.

you’re not sure what exactly it is—maybe it’s the fact that it’s so casual, or maybe it’s the way the sound of it makes you feel like you’re intruding—but you feel a sudden flush creep up your neck and cheeks.

“oh my god, o-oh my g-god! t-that’s it, jungkook! oh god, baby… f-fuck!”

“fuck—you close, baby?”

“so close, baby. so fucking close. g-god, yes, yes, yes! nghh—fuck! so big, jungkook. oh my god, oh my god! fuck me, fuck me… j-just like that, baby. yes, y-yes–o-oh! mhmmmphhh—”

"shit, shit, shit..."

"fuck me harder, jungkook. please! o-oh? oh! oh my god! yes... yes! thank you, baby. thank you, thank you! ahhh... oh my god..."

you swallow, stepping back, retreating to the stairs. 

the guilt of overhearing makes your pulse race in an odd way, like you’ve been caught in something you weren’t supposed to see.

at the bottom of the stairs, you pause, your hand on the banister, unsure whether you should stay or go. 

you quickly decide. 

you’re already feeling the sting of something sharp and unfamiliar in your chest.

“guys,” you say quickly, trying to keep your tone light, but there’s an edge to it you can’t mask. "y-you know what? i think i’ll just head home. i’ve got a ton of work to do.”

they look at you, confused. taehyung blinks a couple of times, jimin frowning. 

“but we—"

"y-yeah,” you breathe. “i… i know. i just… it’s all good. you guys can go ahead without me,” you add, forcing a smile.

“slow down, ___. what—”

“i feel sick,” you confess. “okay? i feel sick.”

“okay… can one of us drive you home or something—”

“no. i’m good. thank you, though… i.. i gotta go.”

they all frown, their confusion morphing into concern, but you’ve already grabbed your things and hurried out the door before they can protest.

the cold night air feels like a slap to your face as you walk away, but it doesn’t quite shake the unsettled feeling in your stomach. 

you can’t stop thinking about it. 

about how you feel.

about what you heard.

about how much you fucking hate jeon jungkook.

it’s almost 10PM by the time you finish showering. your hair is still damp, hanging loosely around your shoulders as you brush it out in front of the mirror. the soft swish of the brush is the only sound in the room, your thoughts still lingering on what happened earlier. the image of Jungkook with that girl, the sound of their voices together, keeps replaying in your mind, and it won’t leave.

you shut your eyes and try to forget. 

taking a breath in—your moment is interrupted by a knock on your door. 

you frown, glancing at the clock before moving to the door, towel still hanging from your shoulders. it’s late, and you weren’t expecting anyone. 

heading towards the door, you wonder who it is.

then, when you open the door, you freeze.

there, standing in the hallway with a takeout bag in hand, is jungkook. his face is unreadable, but his eyes—those eyes—seem to be searching yours for something. you can’t quite figure out what.

you blink, caught off guard by the unexpected visit, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.

“uh…” jungkook clears his throat, breaking the silence, his voice lower than usual. “the guys think i did something to piss you off… so i’m supposed to say sorry for… whatever i did.”

“you didn’t do anything,” you lie. “goodnight.”

just as you’re about to shut the door, he takes a step forward. 

“___,” he says, tone flat and annoyed. “don’t be a bitch. just tell me what i did so i can apologize, go home and tell them what i did wrong, and we can act like nothing happened—”

“okay,” you shrug. “you wore an ugly shirt today. there. say sorry.”

jungkook winces at you. 

“seriously?”

you shrug again. 

“what do you want, jungkook? i have nothing to say to you—”

“i don’t fucking understand where all this attitude is coming from. i didn’t do shit to you today. you know i didn’t… so, can you please use your tiny brain to make something up? something more convincing than hating my fucking shirt.” 

you nod, pretending to care. then, just as you reach for the door to shut it again; jungkook swiftly moves past you. he lets himself in. 

“they’re worried you didn’t eat,” he states. “did you eat?”

you groan at him. “why the fuck do you care?”

“i don’t.”

but his actions say otherwise. 

jungkook then takes off his shoes and heads to your coffee table. he sits himself on the floor and begins to unpack the food. silently, you watch as he does so and can’t help but feel like throwing up. 

“eat,” he commands. 

you glare at him. 

“get out.”

jungkook leans back against your couch. “eat, tell me what i did wrong, then i’ll leave.”

“leave first.”

“eat first.”

“get out.”

“holy shit,” jungkook scoffs. “are you even capable of forming a complex sentence, or is that too much for you? ___, this is called a conversation. you’re supposed to—"

“get out.”

jungkook sighs heavily. 

a silence falls upon you two. 

jungkook has had difficult days with you before.

this is nothing new… but for some reason, right now feels harder than the other days. partly because most days he knows when he’s being an asshole—but today? he has no clue. 

he’s in the dark. 

jungkook clears his throat. 

“i didn’t yell at you today,” he starts. “i didn’t call you names. you called me a nerd but that was it… your face ruined my day but i guess it made the others pretty happy since they were so pissed at me for being the reason why you left… so, hey… how about this? you tell me what i did wrong for the guys. not for me.”

you raise an eyebrow at him. 

his eyes plead. 

then, a moment passes. 

instead of answering him, you pick up your feet and sit on the floor beside him. you look at the door and take the utensils from the bag. poking at the food, you contemplate on telling him what’s going on in your head. 

just as you’re about to eat a spoonful of the food, you suddeny feel jungkook close to you. without saying a word, his fingers brush lightly against your cheek, making you hold your breath. his hand moves to tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear, carefully pushing it out of the way so it doesn’t fall into your food. 

the gesture is so unexpectedly gentle that it catches you off guard, and for a second, you’re just left there, staring at him.

he looks at you sincerely. in his eyes, you can see his defeat. 

you don’t know if it was the gesture or the look in his eyes—but your words slip out of your mouth faster than you can think to stop it. 

“she was too loud.”

he tilts his head at you. 

“oh,” jungkook connects. his expression stiffens for a split second, then he schools it back into calm. “overheard, did you?” he asks, leaning in slightly, voice a low murmur. 

“oh, i definitely heard,” you reply, folding her arms, feigning thoughtfulness. “don’t act so cocky… she sounded like she was faking it.”

he stares, jaw flexing, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something challenging in his eyes. 

“that’s cute coming from someone who couldn’t even stay for dinner.”

suddenly that pang of jealousy again hits again. 

you know you should just brush it off… keep your cool and act nonchalant about it—but something about jungkook just makes you feel so off balance. 

“maybe i had better things to do,” you retort. 

“like what?” 

you shrug. 

“like leave.”

“you should’ve knocked,” jungkook smirks. “i would’ve opened the door. we don’t mind an audience usually.” 

there it is again. 

the sick, sinking, icky feeling. 

“you two fuck often?”

jungkook looks away, taking a moment to think. 

“yeah,” he admits. “what? surprised nerds get laid?”

you stay quiet. 

“i mean.. it’s not really any of your business…" he mutters, though there’s a tension in his voice that doesn’t match his casual shrug. you can tell he's trying to brush it off, but the way his jaw tightens betrays him.

you feel your stomach tighten, the words you threw out lingering in the air between you, each one heavier than the last. you weren’t expecting him to react like this—maybe a joke or a deflecting comment—but not this… 

tension.

"right," you reply, your tone softer than you intended. you glance down at your food, suddenly losing your appetite. the casual air you were hoping for is long gone, replaced by an uncomfortable silence that neither of you seems willing to break.

jungkook shifts uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck before clearing his throat. 

"look, it’s not like that," he adds quickly, but the words sound almost too defensive. "she’s just... i don’t know. it’s nothing serious."

you don’t respond immediately, still caught up in the strange mix of feelings his words stir in you. the way he said it—like it was nothing serious—feels too much like an attempt to distance himself from whatever was going on.

you’re not sure what you wanted from this conversation, but now all you feel is a growing knot in your chest.

"yeah," you mutter, trying to sound indifferent, but the weight of his words hangs in the air, making your throat feel tight. "whatever you say—”

“why do you care anyway?” jungkook’s voice is sharp now, a slight edge creeping into his tone as he looks at you, his expression shifting from defensive to something you can’t quite place.

you’re caught off guard by the question. 

you weren’t prepared for that, weren’t prepared for the way it makes your chest tighten. why do you care? it’s not like you have any right to, right?

you open your mouth, but the words don’t come out. Instead, you just shrug, trying to play it cool, but you can feel your pulse quicken. 

"i don’t. i just—"

"you just what?" he interrupts, his brow furrowing, as though he’s not buying the act. "you’ve never cared before. why start now?"

you clench your fists at your sides, feeling the sting of his words more than you want to admit. There’s a part of you that wants to tell him—tell him how seeing him with her, hearing them laugh together, makes something ugly twist in your stomach. 

but you can’t.

"i don’t know," you finally mutter, your voice quieter than before. “it's weird. like, of course i knew you weren't a virgin but... are you actually that good? then again… doesn’t take much to fake sounds like her.”

jungkook’s eyes flicker to yours, something unreadable passing through them before he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. then, he smirks. 

it’s more calculated, though… like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

"curious?"

"disgusted, actually."

a beat.

"what, you wanted it to be you?" he asks, his voice smooth, a challenge in his tone.

you almost choke on your breath, but you recover quickly. "me? sleeping with you? please."

he lets out a low laugh, but it’s not playful this time. 

it’s more mocking. 

“yeah, i mean, i don’t even want you that bad…" he takes a slow look at you, like he's mentally assessing you, deciding if you’re worth his time. "not even close."

the words sting more than they should, but you keep your composure. 

you try to look unbothered, but his next words twist the knife a little deeper.

“fuck you.”

"you wish i’d fuck you," he remarks, almost casually, like it's no big deal. "would make things easier, huh?"

your chest tightens, and something about the way he says it makes your blood run cold. It’s not just teasing anymore—it’s a jab.

but you refuse to let him see how much it affects you.

"i’m not interested in you," you shoot back, your voice betraying none of the discomfort you’re feeling. 

he leans in a little, eyes never leaving yours. 

"really?" 

“really.”

his smirk widens, and you can feel the tension crackling in the air. 

“guess what? i think you care more than you're letting on. you act like you don’t give a shit, but it’s so obvious you’re just pissed it’s not you in my bed."

you bite your lip, trying to keep your voice steady, but something betrays you in the way your heart races. 

"i’m not pissed," you mutter, the words coming out too quickly, like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him. "why would i be?"

jungkook watches you for a moment, taking in every little reaction. 

"i don’t know, ___," he says, his tone low and teasing, like he’s enjoying every second of this. "but it’s cute. you’re all flushed, trying to act like you don’t care, but i can see right through you."

you grit your teeth, wanting to snap back, but instead, you just look away. 

"shut up," you mutter, frustrated with yourself more than anything. "you’re such an asshole sometimes, you know?"

he laughs again, but this time there’s something darker in it, almost like he's reveling in your frustration. 

“i don’t think you’re as immune to me as you pretend to be," he says. "but hey, don’t stress about it, baby. i’m not that interested either. i mean, what’s the fun in fucking you? it’d be harder getting rid of you than getting in your pants.”

you feel the sting of his words hit harder than they should.

“are you done?” you mutter, forcing a nonchalant tone. "and don't call me baby. you called her baby. i don't want to be associated—"

"you think you'd fold as fast as she did?"

jungkook’s eyes flicker with something that could almost be amusement—or maybe something else. he clears his throat.

“shit, ___. i’m sorry—”

“yeah?” 

you don't know why, but something inside you snaps. 

you shift your body close to him. so close that you glance at his lips, then back up to his eyes, as if you’re weighing something—daring him to make a move.

jungkook’s body tenses, his breath shallow, like he's ready to close the distance… to make some sort of move. his lips part slightly as if he's about to speak, but before he can, you push him away. 

now, he’s tongue tied.

“shit, jungkook... i'm sorry," you mock him. "but you're wrong... this is fun."

[chancloud8]

Teach Me

PART 1

series masterlist

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Word Count: 2,4k

Tags: A little bit of angst, Fluff, Kissing, OT8

Summary: After a failed date you find comfort with your best friend. He even offers to teach you how to kiss. Crazy, right?

*****************************

'Channie?' you call out when you step into the recording studio.

It was already close to midnight, but you know for a fact that your best friend is still here. He always stays late to work on his songs, either alone or sometimes with Jisung or Changbin.

'In here!' Chan's familiar voice calls back and relief floods your body at the sound of it.

You wipe your cheeks one last time with the back of your hands and take a deep breath before forcing yourself to smile.

'Bestie incoming,' you sing song as you walk the narrow hallway towards the room where his voice came from.

As soon as you walk through the door you freeze.

It wasn't just Chan inside. All the other members of his band are scattered across the couch and floor. Multiple take-out boxes and containers cover the small table and the smell of pizza and chinese food hits your nose.

Eight pairs of eyes are staring at you and it takes a few seconds before any of them react. Chan is the first one to jump up, his brows are furrowed as he takes in the state you're in.

You know you must look like a mess. Your hair is loose and wild from how you've kept running your hand through it, you know your make-up is smeared and your eyes are red from crying. You keep the smile on your face, hoping to fool your friends, but the moment he takes a step forward you know you haven't.

'You cried. What happened?' Chan asks when he's in front of you, softly grabbing your chin between his fingers so you have to look at him.

'Who do we need to hurt?' Changbin yells as he also jumps up from the couch to get closer to you as well.

You flinch at his loud voice and Chan turns his head to glare at his friend.

'No one, Binnie. I'm fine,' you say, but you know your smile is faltering.

'You're not,' Felix's deep voice says from behind Chan. You hadn't even noticed him getting up too. 'Who did this?'

You shake your head at him. 'It's nothing, don't worry about it.'

Telling Chan what happened was one thing, but telling all of them?

Nope.

You couldn't do it. It would be too mortifying.

'Come sit with us,' Chan says, letting go of your chin so he can grab your hand and lead you towards the couch where Jeongin, Seungmin and Jisung quickly make room for you.

As soon as you sit down, Seungmin shrugs off his jacket and hangs it around your naked shoulders. You shiver as the fabric touches your skin, it's warm and soft and you hadn't realized how cold you were.

'Where's your jacket?' Chan asks, as if he only just noticed you weren't wearing any while it's no longer hot outside at night.

The guys are all quiet, waiting for you to answer the question.

'I- uhm,' you swallow. 'I forgot it.'

'You forgot your jacket?' Chan narrows his eyes, seeing straight through your bullshit. 'You never go anywhere without--'

'I forgot! I was in a hurry to get away, okay,' you interrupt him, tears welling up in your eyes again as you think of the horrifying moment.

As one all of the guys lean forward, frowns adorn their faces.

'Get away from who?' Chan and Changbin growl practically at the same time.

'Y/N,' Felix gets up from his seat 'Are you hurt?'

'No, no,' you hurry to say. 'I'm okay, I promise. I'm just--' You groan and bury your face in your hands so you don't have to look at their faces. 'I'm extremely embarrassed and maybe a bit upset, but I'm fine.'

When they stay silent, you sigh and lift your head to look them all in the eye.

'I'm fine.'

They don't seem convinced and you can't really blame them.

'Look, I didn't expect you all to be here or I wouldn't have come. I'll just go home, bury myself in blankets and sleep,' you say, starting to get up.

Seungmin grabs your arm and pulls you back on the couch.

'No way we're letting you go when you're feeling down. You shouldn't be alone,' he says and the other guys all nod in agreement.

'And if you want to talk to Channie alone, we can leave you alone for a bit,' Jeongin offers, giving you an encouraging smile.

Your heart swells with how thoughtful they all are and you instantly feel a little better. You always knew they were good guys, but after tonight it was nice to get a reminder that thoughtful and kind guys still exist.

'But if you want you can talk to us too, we won't judge you, I promise,' Lee Know says from his spot on the floor.

'Or if you just want to eat or help us out with making music, that's fine too,' Hyunjin adds with a smile.

'We can also still beat up whoever made you cry,' Jisung swings his fist around in the air.

You can't help but tear up again.

'Y/N?' Chan moves over to you again and kneels down in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. 'You're not alone, you're okay and we're all here for you.'

That does it.

A sob escapes your mouth and you throw your arms around his neck, not caring about the guys seeing you cry anymore.

Chan immediately wraps his arms around you and pulls you against his body. Like a koala you wrap yourself around him and you bury your face in his neck, letting his familiar scent calm you down.

'It's okay, you're okay,' Chan continues to whisper as he strokes your back. 'I'm here.'

It takes a few minutes for you to calm down, but when you do, you feel a lot better. You allow yourself a few more moments, keeping your head in the crook of Chan's neck as you slowly get a grip of yourself again.

'I'm sorry,' you whisper.

'What for?' Chan whispers back.

You know that everyone can probably still hear you, but it still feels like it's just Chan and you. In some way the guys are a part of Chan anyways.

'For crying and for ruining your night.'

Chan's hands move up to your arms and he gently pushes you away from his chest so he can look at you.

'You could never ruin my night, Y/N, and as for the crying, isn't that what a best friend is for?'

Your lips curl up in a watery smile and you bring your hand up to pat his cheek.

'My sweet Channie.'

He chuckles and squeezes your arms. 'That's me. Now will you please tell your sweet Channie what happened tonight?'

Your smile disappears and immediately so does Chan's.

'What happened?' he repeats, his eyes dark.

'I just went on a shitty date,' you finally confess. 'He was very nice at first, but-'

'I swear if he hurt you,' Chan growls and from the corner of your eyes you see two other members get up as well.

'Stop being so macho,' you roll your eyes. 'I appreciate your concern babe, but I'm okay and he didn't hurt me.'

Chan narrows his eyes at you and cocks his head. 'Then what did he do, Y/N?'

'Did he force you to do anything you didn't want?' Changbin asks, sitting down next to you and Chan.

You wait a second too long with denying it and both men tense up.

'No, no! It's not like that,' you hurry to say. 'He just-' You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes. 'He laughed at me.'

Chan blinks at you and so does Changbin.

'What for?' Lee Know pipes up from behind you.

'Did he just laugh or did he say stuff as well?' Hyunjin asks from the couch.

You sigh and bite your lip, debating whether or not to just blurt it out. It all seemed so silly now.

'Y/N?' Chan asks again.

'He kissed me and I didn't expect it,' you say, closing your eyes in mortification. 'I froze at first and when he-' you shiver and Chan balls his hands up in fists.

'He what?' Felix asks softly.

'God this is so embarrassing you guys, you're going to laugh at me too,' you groan, letting your head fall against Chan's chest again.

'We won't,' Jeongin promises and the others hum in agreement.

'I freaked out,' you mumble. 'And when he put his tongue in my mouth, I may have gagged and started hyperventilating.'

The guys are quiet around you and for a moment you wonder if they heard you. Just as you lift your head from Chan's chest, they all start to talk at once. They don't laugh. All their faces are serious as they try to talk over each other. All except Chan.

'What?' you whisper at him when his eyes stay locked with yours.

‘I had no idea you’ve never been kissed before,’ he says, his eyes falling to your lips for a millisecond. ‘And I’m sorry your first experience with it was awful.’

You shrug and snort when a thought enters your mind. ‘If only you could teach me how to properly kiss so I don’t freak out next time,’ you joke.

Everyone falls quiet and Chan’s eyes darken before he looks down at your lips again. His tongue comes out to moisten his lips and your heart skips a bit at the sight. Shit, he had no right to look at you like that.

‘I’m only joking,’ you choke out, breaking the silence and shifting awkwardly in Chan’s lap.

Chan’s hands fall down to your hips and he holds you still.

‘I could, you know,’ he says then. ‘Teach you.’

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. All you can do is stare at him with big eyes, both in shock and intrigued. Was he really serious? Would he teach you? Wouldn’t that be weird? Wouldn’t that ruin your friendship?

‘Or any of us could,’ Changbin pipes up, breaking your thoughts. ‘Or if you need some practise after Chan teaches you-’

‘Shut up, Bin,’ Chan interrupts his friend, his hands tightening around your hips.

‘Hey, don’t get all alpha on Y/N now Channie,’ Jisung teases.

You laugh and look around at the guys, no longer feeling awkward. They really are the nicest people you know.

‘Thank you,’ you smile at them. ‘I feel much better already.’

A chorus of cheers makes you laugh and for a moment you forget the offer that still hangs in the air. That is, until Chan suddenly stands up and hauls you with him as you were still in his lap.

‘Come with me,’ he says when you stand on your own legs again.

He grabs your hand and leads you to the hallway as another chorus of cheers and whistles erupts in the room. When the door to the recording studio falls close and the sound of the guys falls away, you find yourself alone with Chan. Your heart is beating so wild in your chest that you wonder if Chan can hear it.

Is he going to kiss you? Does he really want to? What if you freak out again?

As always Chan seems to be able to read your mind and when he cups your face with his hands and locks his gaze with yours, everything else falls away. He leans his forehead against yours and his warm breath puffs against your lips.

‘Breathe,’ Chan whispers. ‘Just breathe for a moment.’

You do as he says and close your eyes as you focus on his breathing, trying to match it with yours while you try to ignore how close his lips are to yours. It doesn’t take long before you’re breathing in the same rhythm and when you open your eyes you find Chan already looking at you.

‘Now what?’ you ask, biting your lip. ‘Will you really teach me?’

Chan’s lips move up in a sweet smile and he moves his hands so that one of them is cupping the back of your neck, while the other grabs onto your chin.

‘Do you want me to?’

You should feel nervous, like you were on your date earlier, but you’re not. You feel calm. Safe. Excited.

‘Yes,’ you whisper, gripping the front of his shirt between your fingers. ‘Please.’

‘Stay still and relax, okay?’ Chan nods and then he cups your face again with his big hands. The cool metal of his rings feel nice against your hot cheeks.

Chan slowly moves his face even closer to yours and when your noses touch he stills, once again letting his breath tickle your mouth. You tremble in anticipation and tighten your fingers on the fabric of his shirt.

‘Channie,’ you breathe out, nearly panting already when he hasn’t even done anything.

Chan chuckles and closes the distance, pressing his lips against yours softly. His thumb gently caresses the skin of your cheek and you melt against him as he slowly moves his mouth over yours. You copy his movement and when he hums against your mouth in approval you feel like you’re on cloud nine.

Who knew kissing could feel so good?

After what feels like only a few seconds, Chan pulls back and you shamelessly chase his mouth with yours. A hoarse chuckle escapes Chan’s throat, but he lets you kiss him again. And again.

There’s no tongue, but at the moment you don’t feel like you neither need or want that. Not yet.

No. This is enough for now.

Chan’s lips were plump and soft and you felt like you were surrounded by his comfortable smell and touch. It felt amazing, addicting and oh so wonderful.

When you finally pulled back again to look at Chan, his pupils were dilated and his lips were red and a little swollen. He looked beautiful and you fight the urge to kiss him again.

‘Lesson one complete?’ you grin up at him.

Chan flicks your nose with his finger and grins back at you.

‘Lesson two will include tongue, think you can handle it?’

You shiver at the thought. If kissing Chan feels this good without tongue already, how would it be to really kiss him?

‘I think I can handle anything when it’s with you.'

************************************

a/n: eeeekkkk my first y/n fic. I hope you like it <3

<read part two here>

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK Men React to Seeing You in Their Clothes

Pairings: Gojo x fem!reader; Megumi x fem!reader; Yuta x fem!reader; Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Warnings: fluff over fluff, I'm pretty sure I already wrote something like this but I can't find it anymore lol, all scenarios talk about the clothes of the said jjk men being big on you so please don't read if this isn't what you vibe with (but feel free to let me know if you want a version in which their clothes actually fit reader quite well!)

Gojo Satoru

The apartment is unusually quiet as you move through the living room, your bare feet padding lightly across the cool floor. Gojo had left early this morning to deal with some “business,” leaving you alone with nothing but a mess of his belongings scattered around. You’re not one to complain though - cleaning up after him has become second nature after spending so much time together.

As you tidy up his place, you come across one of his oversized hoodies. It’s sprawled across the back of a chair, still slightly wrinkled from when he wore it the night before. The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the fabric, and for reasons you can’t quite explain, you find yourself reaching for it.

It’s soft, much softer than you expected. You hold it for a moment, staring at it thoughtfully before a mischievous grin tugs at your lips. You slip the hoodie over your head, the fabric swallowing you whole. The sleeves are comically long, almost covering your hands completely, and the hemline reaches down to your thighs. It’s so big that it feels like you’re wearing a blanket, and despite yourself, you giggle at the sight of your reflection in the hallway mirror.

You sit down on the couch, pulling your legs up under the hoodie, and let yourself relax into the comfort of wearing something that smells like him. His signature cologne that follows him around wherever he goes, that makes your heart skip a beat every time you smell it. To be honest, you really miss him. These past weeks were so busy that you didn’t really get the chance to see him more than 2 hours before passing out sleeping. What you’d do for a whole afternoon, just you and him…

Not long after, you hear the oh so accustomed sound of the door unlocking, followed by the familiar voice of Satoru calling out, “I’m home!”

You stiffen for a moment, wondering how he’ll react, but you can’t hide now. Fuck, you never wore his clothes before. After all, they belong to him and you have no right to grab his stuff as you please.

Before you can say anything to defend yourself, Gojo steps into the living room, his bright blue eyes immediately locking onto you.

There’s a beat of silence. Then, a slow, amused grin spreads across his face.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he teases, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

His sunglasses are perched on his head, revealing his crystalline eyes that seem to glow with delight.

“Did you raid my closet while I was gone?”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool despite the sudden warmth creeping up your neck.

“Your place was cold. Figured I’d borrow something.”

Gojo doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he walks over to you, crouching in front of the couch as he eyes you up and down. His grin widens as he takes in the way the hoodie completely engulfs you, making you look even smaller than usual.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, laced with something playful but undeniably affectionate.

He reaches out, tugging on one of the oversized sleeves gently.

“In fact, I think it suits you better than it does me.”

You scoff, though your heart skips a beat at the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world.

“You think everything looks good on me.”

“That’s because it does.”

His grin is infuriatingly confident, but there’s a softness in his gaze that makes your breath catch.

“But you, wearing my clothes? I think that might be my favorite look.”

He leans closer, his nose brushing against your temple before pressing a soft kiss there.

“You can keep it if you want,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

“I don’t think I’m getting it back anyway.”

Megumi Fushiguro

It’s early morning, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon, casting a soft glow over Megumi’s small apartment. He’s still asleep, his dark hair a mess of unruly strands as he breathes softly beside you. You’ve been staying with him for the weekend, a rare break from the chaos of jujutsu sorcery.

As you quietly slip out of bed, careful not to wake him, you feel the cool air hit your skin. Without thinking, you look around the room for something to cover yourself with. Your eyes land on one of Megumi’s plain black shirts, tossed haphazardly over the back of a chair. It’s oversized, much bigger than anything you’d typically wear, but you shrug and grab it anyway.

Slipping it over your head, the fabric is soft and familiar, carrying the faint scent of him. It hangs loosely on your frame, the sleeves too long and the hem falling halfway down your thighs. You glance at yourself in the mirror, a small smile tugging at your lips. There’s something comforting about wearing his clothes, like having a part of him with you even when he’s asleep.

As you turn back toward the bed, you freeze. Megumi’s awake. His dark eyes are half-lidded, still clouded with sleep as he watches you from the bed. You can’t quite read his expression -it’s a mixture of surprise, confusion, and something else you can’t place.

“You’re up early,” he mutters, his voice still thick with sleep.

You shrug, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“Couldn’t sleep. I didn’t think you’d mind if I borrowed your shirt.”

Megumi blinks, his gaze drifting over you slowly. He doesn’t say anything right away, but you can see the way his eyes linger on the way the shirt swallows you, how it looks like you’re drowning in fabric. After a long moment, he finally speaks, his voice quieter than before.

“It looks good on you,” he finally speaks out, a little awkwardly, as if he’s not quite sure how to compliment you.

“Better than it does on me.”

You can’t help but laugh at how flustered he seems, even though he’s trying to play it cool.

“Really? I think it’s a little big.”

Megumi shakes his head, sitting up in bed and running a hand through his messy hair.

“No. It’s perfect.”

He pauses for a moment before adding, almost shyly,

“You should wear my stuff more often.”

His words catch you off guard, and you raise an eyebrow at him, surprised. Even though you know all too well that Megumi Fushiguro has a soft spot for you, you never really thought about stealing or borrowing his stuff. After all, he is the guy who slaps the back of Yuji’s head each and every day over stealing his sandwich or equipment. And now…he’s telling you straightforward that he wants you to wear his shirts?

“You want me to?”

He looks away, his usual stoic mask slipping just a bit as a faint blush creeps up his cheeks.

“I mean... yeah. It suits you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his admission. Megumi isn’t one for big, flowery declarations, but this, this small, almost hesitant compliment, is enough to make your chest warm. You walk over to him, climbing back into bed and curling up beside him like you always do after waking up.

“Well, if you insist,” you mutter teasingly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“I might just steal more of your clothes.”

Megumi huffs, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Go ahead,” he mumbles, tugging at the hem of his loose shirt.

“I don’t mind.”

Yuta Okkotsu

You’ve been staying at Yuta’s apartment for the past few days, crashing at his place while you’re both on a break from missions. It’s been nice: quiet, peaceful, just the two of you enjoying each other’s company without the usual chaos of jujutsu high looming over you.

It’s late in the evening now, and you’ve just gotten out of the shower, feeling refreshed after a long day. As you towel off your hair, you realize you forgot to grab something to wear. Your suitcase is still in the living room, and you don’t really feel like walking out there in just a towel.

Your groan in frustration over your usual absent-mindlessness, eyes landing on one of Yuta’s old sweatshirts, folded neatly on the chair by his desk. It’s a little worn, clearly well-loved, and the idea of wearing something of his brings a smile to your face. Yuta definitely wouldn’t mind you wearing one of his shirts, right? And even if he did…you’d love to see that little blush creep up his face.

Without thinking twice, you pull the sweatshirt over your head. It’s oversized, the sleeves long enough to cover your hands, and the fabric is soft and cozy against your skin.

You’re adjusting the sleeves when the door creaks open slightly. You look up just as Yuta steps into the room, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees you.

“Oh, hey-” he starts, but then he freezes, his gaze locking onto the sweatshirt you’re wearing.

His face flushes almost instantly, a deep red creeping up his cheeks as he stares at you.

“Uh… is that…?”, Yuta stammers, clearly flustered.

You glance down at the sweatshirt and smile sheepishly.

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. I forgot to grab my clothes, and this looked comfortable.”

Yuta blinks, his face still bright red, but he quickly shakes his head.

“No! I mean, I don’t mind at all! It’s just… you look… um…”

He trails off, his eyes flicking away as if he’s too embarrassed to finish the sentence.

You giggle softly, stepping closer to him, to tease the hell out of him even more. That poor innocent boy who doesn’t even dare looking your direction when you stumble in the bathroom in the morning with noting but a shirt and panties on.

Even though you’ve been together for over a year by now.

“I look… what?”

Yuta clears his throat, still avoiding your gaze.

“You look… really cute,” he mutters, barely audible.

“In my sweatshirt, I mean.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you can’t help but smile as you reach out and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks, Yuta.”

He finally meets your gaze, his face still red but his expression softening as he squeezes your hand back.

“You can wear my clothes anytime you want,” he says quietly, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

You grin, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I might just take you up on that.”

Yuta chuckles, his arms wrapping around you in return as he pulls you close.

 “I wouldn’t mind,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Not at all.”

Nanami Kento

It’s late, and Nanami is still out on a mission. You’ve been waiting for him to come home, but the clock is ticking past midnight, and exhaustion is beginning to catch up with you. After all, you’ve had a long and exhausting day at work yourself.

You’re curled up on the couch, half-asleep, when the chill of the evening air prompts you to grab something warmer to wear.

Your own clothes are in the bedroom, and you don’t feel like moving that far. Instead, your eyes land on one of Nanami’s neatly folded dress shirts, sitting on the back of a chair. It’s probably not the warmest option, but the idea of wearing something of his feels comforting, like having a part of him with you while you wait for him to return.

You slip the shirt on, the crisp fabric soft against your skin. It’s too big, of course, the sleeves hanging past your wrists and the hem falling almost to your knees, but it’s cozy in its own way. You curl up on the couch again, pulling the sleeves over your hands and breathing in the faint scent of him that still lingers on the fabric.

You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until the sound of the front door opening stirs you awake. You sit up groggily, blinking as Nanami steps inside, looking tired but unharmed. He pauses when he sees you, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in the sight of you wearing his shirt.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of Nanami’s lips.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he observes, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement.

You rub your eyes sleepily, nodding.

“It was cold, and I didn’t feel like getting up.”

Nanami walks over to you, his expression soft as he takes in the sight of you.

 “It suits you,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm.

“I didn’t expect to come home to this.”

You shrug, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“If you don’t like it, I can-”

“I like it,” he cuts in, his tone firm but gentle.

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand lingers at your cheek.

“I like it very much.”

You smile, leaning into his touch as you look up at him.

“I might have to borrow your clothes more often, then.”

Nanami chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek before he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You’re welcome to them,” he breathes out.

“Though I have to admit, you make my clothes look much better than I do.”

You laugh softly, your heart warming at his rare display of affection.

“I doubt that.”

Nanami shakes his head, his eyes soft and filled with affection as he looks at you.

“It’s true. But regardless, you’re welcome to them anytime” he insists.

With that, he sits down beside you on the couch, pulling you into his side as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. You snuggle into him, the warmth of his body and the comfort of his shirt making you feel safe and content.

“Thank you, Kento,” you whisper, closing your eyes as exhaustion starts to pull you back into sleep.

Nanami presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice low and soothing as he murmurs,

“Anytime, love.”

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[gremlingottoosilly]

Imagine another soldiers GF is visiting him and Konig sees her and is like "My GF now" what is he gonna do? Challenge the 7 ft. Tall killing machine?

Visiting Paul wasn't the sanest thing you did - and not the proudest of your moments, too. Your relationships started to crack a while ago, not helped by the rumors his squad buddies are spreading whenever you're in the earshot or Facetiming him. You just wanted to give him a visit, maybe woo him over with some homemade goods, and maybe be a normal boyfriend and girlfriend again. Maybe. You didn't expect his colonel to give you such a scolding. "You know that poisoning the troops is a war crime, ja?" You're terrified. His colonel is fucking huge, has a creepy name - seriously, what did he do to be named King instead of Potato or a Shrimp - and has that weird boyishly rough voice that lools you into the sense of security, only for it to be broken the second he laughs, tearing into the dumb box filled with dumb cookies you made for Paul and some of his squadmates. You had friends at his station, you thought you could just get in without the bureaucracy bullshit - only closest family members are allowed here, and you are quite certain that your boyfriend won't wife you up anytime soon. "It's not poison, s...sir" "I look like a sir to you, Maus? Call me colonel" You want to answer that he looks like a fucking nightmare crawling out of your bad dreams, but you bite your tongue. Don't even resist as Konig gets his huge gloved hands into the box, slowly taking one of the cookies. You whimper as he snaps the thing in half - hours of hard work, you can already see them being trashed away all because Paul didn't respond to your calls and didn't pick them up immediately and because he didn't mention his colonel is going to be on the base and- Konig gets one of your cookies under his hood, the sounds of munching like music to your ears - an angel's horn, maybe, the ones that play during the apocalypse. You wait patiently to be prosecuted for your crimes - the ones you aren't quite sure you even committed, to be honest. "You'll do. Horangi will show you to my quarters." You think you're hearing things. Maybe, you somehow managed to hit your head on the way to the colonel's office, and now you're hallucinating the entire encounter? The colonel stands up - he is huge, god, too fucking tall to even be alive, you think - and drops a heavy hand on your shoulder, patting you almost awkwardly. You hate the way he looks at you right now - almost soft, almost gentle, his hand squeezes your skin in a way that is way more loving than your boyfriend ever did before, and you feel pathetic for leaning into the touch, if only for a second. You didn't know that Konig got his eye on you even before you went to the base. He knows a lot about his soldiers, and your sorry fuck of a boyfriend clearly didn't deserve a sweet little thing like you - for fucks's sake, you literally just brought homemade cookies to the military base; how much more of an angel you can be. He also knew that you're not quite satisfied with the relationships if he can judge by how much bitching Paul is letting out during his free time. Konig also knows that if he gets you to marry him as soon as possible, sooner he could put you in his house and make you bake him cookies every day of his retirement - that doesn't seem like such a bad opportunity now, not if he would have a pretty housewife attached to his hip. And if you don't really want to be with him, well... Nothing that a few weeks of extensive home training couldn't fix.

[aurorasgate]

mutual masturbation with caleb

caleb x fem!reader this is pure filth y'all and the first time i'm writing for this man who can't seem to get out of my brain🫠🩷

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! masturbation obvi, post when he comes back, a tiny bit of voyeurisms but its not on purpose, praise kink, cute teasing and pet names, he'd kiss you if he weren't a little romantic for you but that doesn't stop him from cumming on you <3 its true love okay, i don't think anything else but please let me know if i missed something!

the key to your place sits in his palm, warm from his skin, guiding him like it’s tied to a tether thats other end could only possibly be with you. the person he wants to be with the most in the world. it’s small and light, especially in a hand as large as his, but it holds the weight of so much more.

hope. a promise and want all consuming and built over years together and what feels like even longer apart.

caleb knows you just got home, the pinging notification of your late arrival after work came on his phone the same minute he stepped off the train from skyhaven to linkon. he had decided to not let you know he’s coming by but didn’t waste a single moment hurrying to the store for ingredients to cook you something delicious and make his way to your apartment so he’s not late.

there’s something blooming in his chest as he slides the key into the lock without knocking, warm and familiar despite the thought that you might not be happy to see him sitting unwelcomingly at the bottom of his stomach and this being the first time he’s ever used the key you gave him.

you’ve been reaching out more, sounding happier because of him, asking when you’ll be together next, and he doesn’t want this distance between you any longer. he wants to see you, every breathing moment he wants you right next to him, and is looking forward to your surprised and smiling face upon his arrival.

your apartment is quieter, darker, than he expected when he opens the door and closes it with a soft click behind him. he knows you’re home and yet, the only thing to greet him is the blue lights of your kitchen appliances displaying the late hour. with quiet movements, he sets down the paper bag full of ingredients on the kitchen counter, leaves his keys next to it, and takes in your space; the items around him sitting in shadow that are all reminders of you, the sweet scent of you lingering in the air, the doors down the small hallway without light shining through them, except for your bedroom.

a low light filters through the bottom and slight crack in the not quite closed door, like only your nightstand lamp is on, and if he listens carefully, he can hear the muffled and small rustling sounds of movements. he doesn’t call out to you or say a word as he makes his way towards your bedroom. perhaps it’s out of habit, an old childhood one where he’d enjoy keeping quiet, hidden, until you were within arms reach and surprising you, giving you a bit of a jumpscare, so he could see your face contort with a cute pout once you realized it was him. or maybe it’s for other reasons, ones hard to put a name to when he hadn’t really let himself before but that are anything but foreign to him.

before he can decide what he’ll do, finally say something so you know he’s here or knock on the frame or just swing it open and ask accusingly, teasingly, what you’re doing, all of his movements and brain function come to a complete halt an inch away from the threshold of your bedroom when he hears you. 

lewd squelching sounds, rhythmic and fast, chasing after something, fills his ears and is accompanied rather than drowned out by the way you call his name in a way he’d only ever heard in his most sinful of dreams. 

“c - caleb~”

no - this couldn’t compare. it was so much better than he had been able to imagine and almost too good to be true. and when it comes again, more desperate, full of heat and wanting need, he’s reaching for the door before he can decide whether he actually should or not.

you don’t hear the opening of your door with your pleasure and thoughts of caleb getting the better of you. all you can focus on is the way your fingers don’t quite reach deep enough and the image of calebs hands, so much bigger, stronger, than your own, being able to touch and pleasure the depths of your warmth and find the perfect spot inside you over and over again. you don’t doubt he’d be wonderful at it.

it’s not the first time you’ve thought of him like this and it certainly won’t be the last. especially now that you swear he’s within arms reach in a way you thought you’d never have the chance to try for after.. well, you don’t want to think about that now. and you don’t. can’t possibly when you finally open your eyes and, through your hazy, lust filled vision, see him standing at the entrance of your bedroom.

your brain takes several moments to catch up, not quite sure if you were actually seeing him or just a mirage that you had conjured up more times than you’d like to count but when your eyes meet the lavender fields of his own, see them darkening into something more akin to most stunning of amethyst, and he says your name in a tone you had never heard from before, you know he’s there for real. having witnessed you touching yourself and no doubt having heard you calling out for him as you did.

there’s no notice of your displeasure at the loss of fullness between your legs when mortification is a living thing inside of you, washing over every nerve and inch of skin and has you sputtering out incoherent words as your hands tug at the shirt you had lifted just above your breasts and your legs shut with a clap of your thighs and the stickiness that had built up trying to get yourself off. “oh my fucking - caleb - i - when did - i’m - you - i just -” 

the step he takes closer to you, drawing your eyes from his handsome darkened features to the impressive bulge straining in his jeans, stops your words. you aren’t quite sure if your silence is better or worse than your string of explanations, questions, excuses, you couldn’t even form fully but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“you don’t have to stop on my account,” he finally says, his tone heady and teasing all at once. he thinks you look astonishingly stunning like this, the heat of your cheeks radiating through the entire room, your lips parted but no words coming out, your legs shyly pressed together and your peaked nipples showing through the thin fabric of your shirt that hardly covers you up. he keeps a painful distance between you despite it all and how badly he wants to touch you right now. he can’t overstep. can’t do anything that might make the progress you had made together thus far since reuniting come crumbling down at his feet. “i can leave if you-”

“no!” you’re quick to reply, your voice far more desperate than you would have preferred and you half expect caleb to comment on it but he only stares at you, like he might never let you leave this room, the tension between you building and building until you think you can’t take it anymore and force yourself to continue, to say what lays in your heart. “don’t go.. unless you want to. i - i’m sorry..”

he chuckles, soft and with no judgment. “you don’t have anything to be sorry for.” he’s more than honored to be the one you think of when touching yourself, would have loathed for it to be anyone but him. caleb starts to close the distance between you, slow and giving you the chance to change your mind but he hopes, prays, you don’t. for so long he’s dreamed of you like this. at the edge of your bed, he stands and watches his fingers running along the cotton of your sheets before they’re on the arch of your foot, traveling up to your ankle in a chaste movement that’s comforting and electrifying. “i don’t want to go.”

you feel far too shy, still so full of embarrassment and mortification he found you like this, to speak the words out loud that you want him, for him to touch you, be with you in a way you never had before, and are beyond thankful and breathless when he takes the lead and says the words himself.

calebs eyes meet yours, making it feel like your heart may leap right out of your chest with all the emotions behind his gaze that you could get lost in and the way his breaths fall heavy and hot in the space around. “let me help you.”

it’s not a question but you nod in acknowledgement anyway and try to swallow your shame. you never need to feel that way with him; not back then and not now. spreading your legs slowly, your arms cradled to your chest, his touch remains on your ankle but his eyes drop to watch your movements and your own are just as shameless, taking in the hardness of his cock and the way it seems to twitch in his jeans at the sight of you. 

“have you ever touched someone like this caleb?” you don’t know why you ask. time and time again he’s told you he wouldn’t get a girlfriend, hasn’t had a girlfriend, and if the answer was yes - you could already feel the lick of jealousy traveling up your spine. 

his hand not on your leg reaches for your face, gentle and firm in the way he forces you to look at him with his grip on your chin. “what do you think?” he looks and sounds unbelievably serious, like he’s hurt you’d even ask and truthfully, he is. there has never been anyone but you and there never will be anyone but you in his eyes. cradled in his arms. in his bed. on his cock.

worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, he keeps his hold on your chin but you need to look anywhere but the violet eyes staring back at you. it’s too much and not enough. not nearly what you need but enough to swallow you whole. instead of replying, you spread your legs farther, focusing on his fingers still lingering on your ankle and how badly you want them to touch other places of you. “caleb..” is all you can bring yourself to reply but it’s answer enough for him.

his hands leave you in order to make quick work of his shoes before he’s crawling his way between your legs, fully clothed, completely hard, and having to remind himself to breathe rather than take you in every possible way he could right here and now. though he can’t say it’s helping when every lung full of air is laced with your scent and your arousal. but he hasn’t even ever kissed you before and regardless of how badly- so fucking badly - he wants you, you deserve something so much more than sharing your first kiss together like this. he simply won’t have it.

with your thighs resting on his, helping keep you spread open, he sits on his knees to reach your face and kiss your forehead, tender and lingering and full of love. your face is so warm under his lips and against your burning skin, he whispers with a smile, “go on pretty girl. i said i’d help.”

as he pulls his lips away, your hand still stained with your essence finds its way back between your legs. how much you’re truly enjoying having caleb here is evident in the wetness you find there, so much more than before when it had only been you and your imagination to get you through it. you gather your slick on the tips of your fingers with a swipe along your folds, starting from your little hole and moving up to your clit that you graze softly with your nail and let out a small sound in response. 

caleb doesn’t touch you, not yet, and instead watches through heavy lidded eyes at the way your fingers sink into your cunt, slow and tentative, the way you take them in and the jolt of pleasure that resounds through the rest of you at the pleasure of it; how your chest lifts slightly off the bed as you try to take in breaths through it, your legs trembling against his own in time with the wet sounds of your fingers going in and out and your other hand that reaches for him in a silent plea.  

but it’s for more than him to finally touch you and you know you’ll have to say it aloud for him to do it but he did say he’d help you and this would absolutely do the trick.  “will you.. will you touch yourself too?”

“yeah? you’d like that pipsqueak?”

“don’t call me that when we’re like this,” you chide, not nearly as serious as you wish you were but it’s just not something you can muster right now. not when you can’t even look up at him. a fact he knows all too well by the way he chuckles low in response. “please caleb.. want to see you feel good too.”

“seeing you like this makes me feel good,” he replies, dreamy and far away but it’s followed by the sound of his belt being undone and the zipper of his jeans. you can’t help but stare at his movements, watching as he pulls himself free of his boxers just enough to grasp the base of his cock and good god he’s big. you had assumed considering all of him is, that this would be no exception but seeing his cock and the way it looks in his hold is something else entirely. “do you always think about me when you’re touching yourself sweetheart?”

“always..” you admit, trying to match the rhythm of your fingers to the pace he begins to set for himself, and it’s absolutely the truth. even when you thought it might be wrong to think of him like this, you couldn’t help yourself or the way your brain and pussy always ran towards thoughts of him and him alone. “do you? think about me when you touch yourself, i mean..”

finally, after what feels like so long, he touches you, using his hand that can feel you without pain to press his thumb against the swollen bundle of nerves that’s your clit. you’re so unbelievably soft, he thinks, so perfect. how could ever think of anyone else? “every. single. time.” he punctuates each word with more and more pressure in the little swirls and attention he gives your clit, all the while gripping himself tighter.

the warmth of his hand joins yours as you both explore and touch between your legs. it’s hard to believe he’s never done this before when every single touch he gives you is so far beyond what you had ever been able to give yourself and you only think it’s more true when his long fingers glide down the back of your hand and one of them joins two of yours that fills your dripping cunt. he slides it in slow, as if taking in every millisecond of it for himself just as much as it for you, and lets his palm press against the back of your hand so every move you make it as one.

“ah! caleb!” you cry out at the welcomed stretch, so blissed out and hungry for more. your free hand grabs a hold of his arm that works himself in slow pumps, up and down the length of his cock, collecting the pearly beads of precum leaking from his slit.  you’re surprised to find it warm despite what you know lies beneath but you don’t let it stop you from your fingers digging into his skin, enough to hurt, make sure he feels it, feels you.

he groans at how tightly you hold onto him and the way you greedily accept his finger with your own, every sweet and full in and out mention of them making you more full than you’d ever been but somehow you don’t think it’s enough as his cock would be.  it takes no time at all for him to find and follow where you curl them into the perfect spot inside of you, making you see stars of purples and white. 

“you’re such a good girl..” he praises with the same low tone, completely intoxicated with your noises and the sounds that join them in a sweet and filthy melody of your dripping pussy and his aching cock. “you can take another, can’t you?”

nodding, you attempt to add an emphasis to how badly you want more by unlatching your hand from his arm and running your fingers along the head of his dick. it’s hard to steady your movements with the way your body sways with each thrust of fingers in and out of you, the pace caleb helps you set that rocks your body almost soothingly, but the feeling of you in anyway, no matter how, is enough to drive caleb wild. he doesn’t waste a moment sliding another one of his long and lithe fingers into you, taking full control of yours, pressing them against your velvety walls and setting a punishing pace that you will not be able to keep for long. 

“caleb - wait -”

“keep your legs spread,” he tells you when you attempt to voice how quickly your orgasm is coming to you and bring your legs together to help calm yourself down but like the good girl he knows you are, his good girl, they shakily open back up at his words.

“won’t last like this..” you try to tell him but you don’t know if the words actually leave your lips when the pressure below your belly won’t stop building at an alarming rate and is spurred on by how he looks between your legs. his eyes are hidden underneath the ends of soft locks but you know he’s looking at you, watching the way his fingers get lost in the soft silk of your pussy, and you’re utterly captivated by the way his arms flex underneath his shirt as he gets you both where you want to be and his hand wrapped around his cock, growing more and more erratic in its movements. it has you aching to have him inside of you. 

it’s not something you’ll get the change to voice, however. not when he looks into your eyes, presses his fingers knuckles deep and then deeper, forcing your own to go with his, and the words he speaks are more of a command than a request, with a lilt of the voice you heard him use when being the commander of the fleet, leaving no room or choice but for your body to obey. “cum for me beautiful.”

you do. breaking around his fingers like you never have on your own before. it’s overwhelming, enough to have tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, a pleasuring cry you had never made before slipping uncontrollably out of your lips in the form of his name, and your walls clenching and pulsing so hard around both of your fingers. through every rack of pleasure coursing through your body, caleb only adds to it, already knowing the perfect spot to keep hitting inside of you in order to let you ride out every last moment of your high and when you think maybe it’s over, it only gets prolonged when you hear the deep moan of your name caleb lets out above you and feel the warmth of his release on your vulva, how it coats you in his plentiful cum and drips from your cunt onto the sheets below you before he’s even finished.

you aren’t sure how long you stay like that, both of you fighting for breath and letting the last bits of your orgasms wash over you, but after some time when all that's left is the mess between your legs and the truth of what you’ve just done together still a warming hum in your limbs, caleb is careful, thoughtful, as he helps to guide your fingers out of your entrance, soothing you with a soft hum when the overstimulation of it makes you shutter. 

“feelin’ better?” he asks, the aftershock of pleasure still clinging to his vocal cords.

“mhm - much.” your own voice is not any better but you don’t care or worry. not when it feels so good, so right, to have him here with you, seeing you like this. despite your past embarrassment about it only minutes ago, which can’t hold a candle to this between you, it brings you back to how you ended up here in the first place. you’re certain he wasn’t here before and that you didn’t have plans, not that it’s a complaint though. “no offense caleb but what are you doing here?”

you see him smirk as he gets off of your bed, tucking his dick back into his pants with ease before looking at you as if you hung the moon and stars yourself, just for him. “making you dinner, of course.” he says it so matter of factly, like he wasn’t just knuckles deep inside you, as he leans over the edge of the bed to scoop you into his embrace, one strong arm at your back and one under your legs, uncaring of the mess dripping from your pussy. “after we get you cleaned up that is.”

[itsnesss]

hello! could you write a hwang junho x reader where he finds out that they were asked to join the games? like he discovers the card and freaks out over it? 🫡

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | fluff, emotional content, themes of concern and vulnerability, soft romantic moments, mentions of risk and danger

word count | 1.7 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The sound of the television is a distant murmur as you get lost in your thoughts. The card weighs on you, but something inside you urges you to ignore the warnings. The desire to change, to escape the monotony of your life, is stronger than any doubt. The opportunity is there, within your reach, and you know you could take it. But what if something goes wrong? The doubt consumes you.

Suddenly, you hear a noise coming from the kitchen. You know it’s him, Jun-ho.

You wonder what he's doing around here, but you don't have time to think too much about it. You’ve barely noticed him until now, but there's something strange about his presence in the last few days. He watches you constantly, as if he's waiting for something to happen.

You hear his footsteps approaching, and when he enters the room, his gaze goes directly to the coffee table where, unknowingly, the card has been left visible. The tension in the air is palpable. You don’t dare move it; you don’t want him to ask, but he does.

"What is this?" he says, his voice so low you can barely hear it. His eyes fix on the card, but his hands stay at his sides, as if he’s avoiding touching it.

"Where did you get this from? Who gave it to you?" His voice hardens, but there's also a kind of desperation you hadn’t noticed before.

Your heart skips a beat. You know you’ve left it in plain sight by mistake, but you didn’t expect him to react like this. Something’s not right, and his gaze makes that clear. The way his jaw tightens and the worry in his eyes makes you hesitate for a moment. You question if you really know what you’re about to do.

"You don’t have to worry about it," you respond, trying to downplay it, but your voice trembles. You don’t even believe yourself. You’re trying to act strong, but you know deep down that something feels vulnerable.

"Yes, yes, I have to worry," he responds firmly, stepping a little closer. The anxiety in his expression is palpable, as if he’s about to explode. "This is not a game. You don’t know what’s behind that card. You’re getting into something you can’t control."

You, however, can’t let him influence you. There’s something inside you telling you that this is your chance, that you can’t let it slip away so easily. Life has been dragging you through the same routine, and this could be the change you’ve been needing. Why not try it? If you could escape all this, maybe you could finally feel free, maybe you could be something else, something different.

"I don’t understand why you care so much," you say with a forced smile, trying to brush off the situation. You don’t want him to see how affected you are by his gaze, by his concern. You need to have control, at least a little. "I’m not a child, I can take care of myself."

The silence between the two of you grows dense. He looks at you as if he’s trying to read what’s going on in your mind, but finally, he steps toward you and, with a deep sigh, takes your hands in his. His fingers, warm and firm, make you feel a small knot in your stomach. It’s strange how such a simple physical touch can make your thoughts dissolve, how suddenly you feel so vulnerable.

"I’m just asking for myself," he says softly, his voice much gentler now, but full of an emotion you can’t quite identify. His expression is laden with sincerity, something you’ve never seen from him before. "Don’t do it. Promise me. I don’t want you to go into that, I don’t want to lose you."

His eyes lock with yours, and in that moment, you feel something change in the air. It’s as if, for an instant, the rest of the world disappears, and it’s just you and him, in that small bubble of silence. His plea resonates in your mind, and for the first time, you wonder if you’re making the right decision. His concern is palpable, and for a moment, you question if maybe he knows something you don’t understand yet. It’s so hard to comprehend why he cares so much, why now it seems like the only right option is to follow his advice.

And the worst part is that, for the first time, you doubt your own desires.

"If you need money, I’ll help you," he adds with an unexpected softness, as if he’s willing to do anything to keep you from making that decision. As if it’s not just an attempt to stop you from entering the game, but a genuine desire to protect you, to offer you something better than that risk. "Just promise me. Please."

He says it with such tenderness that you almost crumble. His words, so sincere, pierce you like a knife, and for a moment, you forget about the card, the game, everything that had drawn you to that decision. It’s just him, his gaze, and that glimmer of hope that seems to want to reach you.

It’s strange how, in that instant, everything that had been noise and chaos in your head becomes quiet. You feel the weight of his plea in the air, the vulnerability of his confession, as if he’s offering you his trust without reservation. Why does he care so much about what you think? Why is he so desperate to save you?

You remain silent for a moment, looking into his eyes. You feel the weight of the card in your pocket, but now, in his presence, it doesn’t seem as tempting as it did before. The game, the opportunity, all seem insignificant compared to what you’re feeling now, as you look at him. It’s not just that he’s asking you to stay away from danger; it’s as if, in some way, he’s asking you to believe in him, to believe in something beyond what you want. And the worst part is that it’s becoming hard not to believe.

Without thinking, you step a little closer to him, almost as if it were a reflex, and before you can process it, he kisses you. It’s a soft kiss, full of an unexpected tenderness, as if he’s putting all his hope into that gesture, as if he’s asking you to understand him without words. The kiss is short, but it speaks volumes, and when he pulls away, your hearts beat together, intertwined in a connection you didn’t expect, but somehow, you understand. He’s reached you in a way you didn’t know you needed.

"Promise me," he says softly, as if he already knows he’s gotten to your heart, as if he’s already gotten what he wanted.

You remain silent for a moment, struggling with your own thoughts. The card is still there, close to you, but now, in his presence, you can’t ignore what really matters. His concern, his sweetness, his sincerity... all of that makes you question what you once desired with such fervor.

Finally, you take a deep breath, as if letting go of everything you’ve been holding inside. You look Jun-ho in the eyes, and with a sigh, you feel the weight on your chest lighten.

"I promise," you respond finally, your voice barely audible, but full of certainty. And for the first time in a long time, you feel that the most important decision you’ve made is the right one.