#I had an idea for what to call this group but I couldn’t come up with something funny so I’ll call them D10’s Harem as a placeholder.

[fear-is-truth]

BEING IN A POLY RELATIONSHIP WITH THANOS & NAM-GYU l headcanons

pairing — thanos x reader x nam-gyu warnings — (mild) s2 spoilers. smut author’s note — i wrote some corny lyrics for this lol

──⟢  fear-is-truth — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

thanos recruited you into his “team” because of his attraction to you. the rapper didn’t try to hide that he found you hot, and he made sure you knew it, throwing compliments your way. his flirting was over-the-top and shameless. he’d call you “senorita” or “babe” in a sing-song voice, leaning in close to make sure you couldn’t ignore him. his favourite move was to serenade you with cheesy raps that made everyone cringe.

one day, thanos sidles up to you, a wide, cocky-ass smirk plastered on his face. he’s got his hands on his hips, like he’s about to drop the hottest bars in the universe. “yo, senorita,” he starts, “you’re the queen of my world, can’t you see? ain’t no one gonna take my throne, you and me, together, baby, we’re destiny!” while nam-gyu, in the background, is rolling his eyes so hard he could probably see the back of his skull. but thanos keeps going, totally into it, “baby, we can rule the game, you and i, got them all thinking i’m the reason they’ll die. you’ll be my queen, i’ll be your king, together we’ll make this whole thing sing!” it’s a miracle you don’t combust from secondhand embarrassment.

nam-gyu, as thanos’s second-in-command, was pissed from the start. in the beginning, it seemed like he was just territorial—angry that you were disrupting the group dynamic. he’d throw side comments like, “oh, great, now we’ve got a distraction,” and give you cold, assessing looks. his irritation was obvious, especially when thanos started giving you preferential treatment, like sitting beside you during meals or casually throwing an arm over your shoulder during group talks.

he tried to act more “mature” than thanos (spoiler: he wasn’t). his idea of flirting was to act tough, which mostly involved bullying weaker players to look impressive. it was like watching a middle schooler try to flex for their crush. in reality, he just looks like an asshole, and you feel annoyed by his attempts to bully someone into submission to show off. he catches your disapproving glare and immediately tries to backtrack, but it just makes it worse.

thanos wasn’t subtle about his future plans for you. “after we win this thing, you’re coming with me,” he promised you confidently. “i’ll make you my official girl. the fans will eat it up—thanos and his queen.” he didn’t ask if you wanted that, just assumed you’d go along with it lol. nam-gyu, on the other hand, played dirtier. when thanos wasn’t around, he tried to plant seeds of doubt in your mind, leaning in to whisper confidentially. “he’s a scumbag, you know. all talk, no loyalty. don’t let him fool you,”

during meals, both of them insisted on sitting next to you, even if it meant practically wrestling each other to the ground. there were no tables, just groups eating near the bunk beds or stairs leading up to them, and you always ended up sandwiched between the two guys. thanos would slouch with his arm around your shoulders, smirking at anyone who looked your way. nam-gyu would mutter snide comments under his breath, low enough for you to hear, but not enough for thanos to notice.

then came the game “mingle,” where the players had to group up based on a random number announced over the PA system. when the voice said “two,” both thanos and nam-gyu grabbed your arm at the same time. “she’s going with me,” thanos barked, pulling you toward him. “what the fuck about me?” nam-gyu shot back, tugging you in the opposite direction. if it hadn’t been for se-mi, who quickly pulled you into a room with her (the two boys found a room next to you), the four of you would’ve fucking died.

the tension escalated at night. at first, both of them insisted on sleeping next to your bunk bed. but as time went on, they started fighting over who got to sleep in your bed. it started as bickering—“move, she doesn’t want you here,” nam-gyu would snap, trying to shove thanos aside. “speak for yourself, bro,” thanos would shoot back, climbing up anyway. it’s like a power struggle between two self-proclaimed alpha males, but it’s over you, which just feels awkward. each one tries to subtly imply their superiority by making the argument about who has the better “qualifications” to be your bunkmate. eventually, the rivalry reached its peak when they both tried to squeeze into your bed at the same time. you ended up stuck between them, neither willing to back down, and neither particularly caring how uncomfortable it made you.

despite the rivalry, the situation eventually settles into some sort of… equilibrium. neither thanos nor nam-gyu backed down completely, but they seemed to reach an unspoken agreement. the two of them started “sharing” you, like some fucked up custody arrangement.

you start to realise that maybe—just maybe—this unholy triangle might not be such a bad thing after all. meal time turned into a prelude for something else entirely. when everyone was distracted, one of them would catch your eye, silently signaling for you to follow. you’d find yourself slipping away to meet them in the bathroom stall.

thanos is all energy, and unable to shut up—being balls deep inside you, his dirty talk came easily, an endless stream of words that tumbled out in rapid succession, that had you equal parts flustered and irritated. especially with how careless he was. you’d have to kiss him just to silence him, pressing your lips to his until his words were replaced by muffled groans. whenever you grabbed his hair, his reaction was instant—a breathy whimper that only seemed to spur him on more. but almost as quickly as the sound left his lips, he was smirking, leaning in to tease you. “don’t mess it up, baby,” he’d warn, his voice playful yet smug. “this shit cost a lot to style.”

nam-gyu, in contrast, was rougher and far less interested in theatrics. he wasn’t one for words—far too focused to waste time on anything unnecessary. he had you pinned firmly against the partition wall, the cool surface digging into your back as beads of perspiration formed along his brow. the thin structure trembled violently under the sheer force of his movements, creaking with every thrust as though it might give way at any second. the silence between you was broken only by a few curses and grunts that escaped him.

[sound-of-scoups]

Moth To A Flame | JJK & KMG | 03

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female!Reader x Kim Mingyu  Genre|tags: Idol!au, series, established relationship, infidelity, lots of angst, lots of drama, smut, maybe fluff.  Word count: 15.8k + Rating: Explicit adult content (MINORS DNI). Chapter warnings: Angst at its finest, like, literally this is pure and raw angst (poor baby is going through it), mentions of Jungkook smoking, crying, everyone here needs therapy, mentions of Jungkook not handling the BTS hiatus very well, arguments, abuse of power by a superior (?). Lemme know if there's more. A/N: 1. Time to get some questions answered...; 2. As ARMY, it's so strange/painful, but at the same time, relieving, to write about the things that happened in 2022 with BTS, knowing that it's already 2025 and the war is over; 3. I have no idea when chapter four will come out, I decided it will be a surprise, so it can come out tomorrow or in two weeks hehe.

Summary: Four years ago, you crossed paths with a charming member of the K-pop group Seventeen during their tour stop in Osaka. The two of you shared three intense, unforgettable days before life took you in different directions. It was painful for both of you, but you knew you couldn’t take things any further and had to say goodbye. Now, back in Seoul for good, you’re in a new relationship with another idol: Jeon Jungkook—whose charm and stability make him everything you thought you wanted. You are very much in love with him, and as your connection deepens, it feels like your life is finally falling into place. That is, until you meet one of your boyfriend’s best friends and are stunned to discover it’s the same man you fell for in Osaka all those years ago. As buried emotions resurface and secrets begin to unravel, you find yourself torn between these two men, caught in a whirlwind of love and conflict, testing the boundaries of loyalty and the choices that could change everything. 

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The moment you walked out of HYBE headquarters, your entire body seemed to spiral into a state of complete mania. You paced around the block for a few moments, overwhelmed by an intense urge to scream and laugh uncontrollably—all at the same time.

Your phone showed multiple missed calls from Jungkook, likely eager to know how the meeting had gone, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to answer any of them. You didn’t know how to tell him the news without sounding like you were on the brink of psychosis for reasons entirely unrelated to the happiness of landing the biggest opportunity of your career.

Instead, after minutes of aimlessly wandering the streets like someone who had just escaped from a psychiatric hospital, you made the only choice that felt right: you called your best friend.

“Wait,” Dahee said, holding up a hand to stop you mid-sentence, her steps faltering as if the physical pause could help her process everything you’d just unloaded on her. “Mingyu? As in Osaka Mingyu?”

You nodded, taking another lick of your strawberry ice cream. “Yep.”

You nodded, taking another lick of your strawberry ice cream. “Yep.”

Initially, you both met at your usual spot—a cozy restaurant downtown, tucked by a window that overlooked the bustling street. The aroma of barbecue wafted around you, blending with the soft clink of dishes and the murmur of voices. You and Dahee dove into a meal not much after, her excitement about her upcoming wedding filling the air immediately. She animatedly described the flowers, venues, and music with her eyes sparkling, and you simply couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt her with the chaos that inhabits your mind.

As the hours passed and you started walking together along the Han River, Dahee finally looked at you, curiosity shining in her eyes. With a gentle nudge, she asked what was going on with you. Her sincerity was unmistakable, and after a steadying breath, you began unraveling the turbulence of your life events, spilling every detail you’d been holding back all day.

Dahee’s expression after you finished telling her everything was like you’d sprouted two extra heads right there on the riverbank. She blinked a few times, processing each piece of information you’d just handed her. Finally, she shook her head, eyebrows raised.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, her voice barely above a gasp as she tugged you toward one of the benches along the shore, her hand gripping your arm tightly. “First of all, I’m hurt that you never told me that Mingyu from Osaka was the Kim Mingyu.”

“I couldn't, babe,” You shrugged, leaning back comfortably against the bench. “Seventeen's legal team made me sign an NDA. I couldn't even be telling you this.” 

You felt a pang of frustration as you recalled the weight of that document, the way it had silenced your thoughts and feelings about everything that had happened four years ago between the two of you. 

Dahee’s jaw dropped, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she finally found her voice. “An NDA? Seriously?”

You nodded, gaze shifting to the river, its calm surface contrasting sharply with the turmoil inside you. “I couldn’t say a word to anyone about what happened. I couldn’t reach out to him. Hell, I wasn’t even allowed to be in the same country as him for years.”

The words slipped out of you like a confession, each one weighted with the years of secrets you’d held inside, now finally spilling free.

The pain of knowing he had chosen this path remained buried deep within you. You still felt naive for believing in everything he had said and promised that morning before you went your separate ways. Four years had passed, and while you were no longer the person you once were, and thought the green light of forgiveness had already been lit, even if only on your end, it still hurted.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Dahee studied your face, brows knitted together. “I thought NDA’S were just myths.”

“Oh, they’re real, all right,” you replied, a bitter smile touching your lips. “And terrifying.”

“How did they even ban you from being in the same country as him?” Dahee asked, her eyes wide with disbelief. “That is incredibly so unfair.”

“It was part of the NDA. They included a clause that forbade me from trying to contact him or even being in the same place as him for a certain period of time,” you said, taking another bite of your ice cream. “They wanted to protect his image, to keep the media from blowing anything out of proportion. To not make a big thing out of something insignificant.”

Those exact words that came out from his manager’s mouth, hitting you like a slap across the face and reverberating in your mind with an almost cruel precision for years. You could only guess that you were insignificant enough to be erased from his life, but important enough to warrant a whole legal agreement about it. 

Probably what he thought too.

“I didn’t have a choice; it was either that or risk legal action.” You completed it.

Dahee stared at you, completely dumbfounded, her jaw slack as she tried to process what you’d just said. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and buried her face in her hands for a moment before letting out a muffled groan.

“That’s insane. How do you even enforce something like that? Did they just expect you to… what? Erase him from your memory like he’s some kind of ghost?”

“Pretty much,” you replied bitterly, taking the last bite of your ice cream. “Until last year, at least.”

“That's why you didn't come back sooner,” she said softly, her eyes searching yours for reaffirmation.

You nodded, a rueful smile playing on your lips. “Yeah.”

Dahee let out a low whistle, leaning back against the bench. “Wow. That explains so much. And now,  you’re telling me that the biggest opportunity of your career just so happens to be working with him? Talk about fate having a sick sense of humor, bestie.”

“Exactly," you muttered, dragging your hands down your face in exasperation. "It's like the universe is laughing at me. 'Oh, you're finally moving on? Cool, let me drop Mingyu right back into your life for funsies.'”

“And no one at HYBE thought this might be, I don’t know, a tiny bit problematic for the two of you?”

“I don’t think they know, or even care. Pledis wasn’t part of HYBE back then. So to them, I’m just another freelancer with a decent portfolio,” you let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “I think no one there remembers what happened between us.”

Dahee sighed deeply. “I’m so sorry, babe,” her expression softened. She reached for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “That sounds incredibly painful to hold to yourself.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as you nodded, grateful for her support right now. “It’s been a struggle. I thought keeping busy would help me forget, but seeing him again…” 

You trailed off, unable to find the words to fully explain the emotions crashing through you. Memories you thought you’d buried deep had come rushing back with such force it felt like you’d been blindsided for four years. 

Dahee’s grip on your hand tightened, her voice firm yet gentle. “You shouldn’t have to go through this alone, you know. Why didn’t you didn’t tell me the second you connect the dots about his connection with Jungkook?”

“I didn’t know what to do, to be honest. Considering how everything went down, I… thought he’d forgotten about me, Hee.”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “And he didn’t?”

You hesitated, biting your lip before shaking your head. “No.”

That much you were sure, since he hadn’t left you any room to think otherwise. It was clear in the way he looked at you, like he wanted to ask a thousand questions but held himself back, respecting Jungkook's presence beside you. The way he kept conversation, the way he and his friends talked about Osaka and referred to you, even without knowing it was you. It was almost like he wanted you to see he still cared, but didn’t want to be direct about it. 

You just couldn't understand why.

“Did he say something to you? Otherwise you wouldn't be thinking about it.”

You hesitated again, the words lingering on the tip of your tongue. Maybe Dahee was right—if nothing had happened, if he hadn't followed you to the bathroom, if he hadn't asked to talk, if he hadn't looked at you like that, as if it were the first time he was seeing you in his life, or said us that way, maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t still be dwelling on it.

"He asked if we could talk.”

Dahee straightened up, her expression a mix of curiosity and cautious concern. “And what did you say?”

You shrugged, fidgeting with the edge of your coat and looking away from her. “That I would think about.”

You could feel her gaze studying you carefully, her faze was sharp but not unkind. Dahee sighed deeply and you held your breath for a second, believing you were going to get scolded by your best friend for having allowed even the smallest space to open, giving the guy who had broken your heart in the worst possible way a sliver of hope that he might talk to you again. 

“So let me get this straight,” she started, planting the palms of her hands on her own legs, the marquise-shaped diamond of her engagement ring shining brightly. “Mingyu, the guy who allegedly tried to erase you from his life and left you with a suitcase full of unresolved emotions and the biggest heartbreak of your life, wants to talk. And you didn’t say no, but you didn’t say yes either.”

“Pretty much,” you admitted, feeling the weight of it all press down on you again.

The fact that he wanted to talk set off a cascade of flags in your mind. What could he possibly want from you now? Why, after all these years, did he choose this moment to break the silence? Hadn't he been the one to make the decision for both of you all those years ago? Was it because he saw you with Jungkook that your ego couldn't handle it?

Deep down, you knew he wasn't like that. You knew perfectly well that he wasn't that kind of person. But now your brain was already working with far-fetched answers to the confusing questions surrounding it and the only person who could answer them was the one you weren't ready to face yet. 

Dahee let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “This is the kind of plot twist I'd expect from a bad drama, not your life. Are you okay, though? Like, how are you feeling now?”

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. 

The truth was, you weren’t allowing yourself to feel anything, while at the same time, you were feeling everything—the good, the bad, the messy ones. It was a paradox that seemed to stretch you thin, tearing at the edges of your composure. For the longest time, you found yourself torn between two extremes: the desperate yearning to see him every day, and the equally fierce desire to never lay eyes on him again. 

Sitting there by the river, with Dahee’s presence beside you, it was the first time in years you allowed yourself even a sliver of vulnerability about this subject. The chaos of seeing Mingyu again, of being thrust into a situation you’d worked so hard to avoid, made your defenses feel paper-thin. And now, after landing the job that could very well change your life, you felt like that fragile piece of paper was precariously floating on water, ready to dissolve into nothingness.

The idea of starting fresh as Seventeen’s stylist should have excited you—it did excite you—but the weight of the past lingered, heavier than you wanted to admit. You knew that from now on, there would be no avoiding Mingyu. In fact, you would be seeing him far more than you ever could have imagined over the past four years.

Seeing Mingyu again wasn’t just a footnote; it was a headline, bold and unavoidable.

How could he suddenly reappear in your life and completely upend everything? How could he suddenly seem to be everywhere?

These thoughts wouldn’t stop circling, growing louder with every passing minute under the moonlight. It felt like a cruel twist of fate, like the universe had been waiting for the perfect moment to throw your carefully built world into disarray. You had spent years carefully locking away every memory, every feeling tied to him, convincing yourself it was better this way. That his absence was a closed chapter, one that didn’t need reopening. Yet here you were, about to walk into a reality where he wasn’t just present—he was unavoidable.

“I don't know. I mean, I thought I was okay. I’ve spent years trying to move past it, convincing myself it didn’t matter anymore. But seeing him again… it’s like all the progress I made just evaporated.”

After everything, you were the only one who ended up with wounds to bind. And now it looked like it was all open wide while someone dumped a bag of salt into it.

“And the worst part? I’m not even angry at him anymore. I’m just… sad. Sad that it ended the way it did, sad that I still don’t fully understand why,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the water against the shore. “But then there’s Jungkook, who is perfect, and makes everything feel so magical, so right and…” you paused, letting the morning's events replay in your mind. “He asked me to move in with him this morning.”

Dahee froze, her eyes widening and mouth falling open in astonishment.. “Wait, what?” she finally said, her voice tinged with disbelief. “How did you even respond to him?”

“I didn’t,” you admitted, letting out a long sigh and pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes. “I also told him I’d think about it.”

Dahee groaned, rubbing her temples like she was getting a headache just from hearing everything. “Okay, so Mingyu reappears, bringing all your unresolved trauma back to the surface, and a week later, Jungkook, your incredible, loving boyfriend who would probably lasso the moon for you, asks you to move in with him?”

“That sums it up,” you said with a weak laugh, though there was no humor behind it, and taking your hands from your eyes to your hair, restlessly. "Two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes, Hee. Damn it, why does everything feel like it's moving so fast now?"

“Babe, that's… huge,” she murmured, gaze softening again with understanding. “Like, life-changing huge. Of course it feels fast. You’ve got a whole lot of emotions to process, and now this. No wonder you’re feeling overwhelmed.” 

You blinked rapidly, the lump in your throat threatening to spill over into tears. It was actually a surprise that you hadn't shed any tears yet today. “I mean, I should be happy, right? Jungkook is everything I ever wanted and it took me so long to feel like this again after Mingyu. But now…”

“It’s like you’re second-guessing things because of Mingyu.” Dahee finished your sentence as if she’d read your mind. 

“Yeah.” You buried your face in your hands. “It feels like I’m being pulled in two different directions, and I don’t know which one is going to tear me apart first.”

The words hung in the air, raw and heavy, as your chest tightened with the weight of your own admission. It wasn’t just about a choice—it was about the uncertainty, the guilt. 

On one hand, you did want to say yes to Jungkook because he’s everything you’ve ever wanted, and you know he loves you, just as much as you love him. But on the other hand… there’s Mingyu. And it's not like you're thinking about going down that road again, because you're not. But just the idea of ​​him being a part of your life again is enough to throw you completely off balance.

Dahee reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Have you told Jungkook anything yet?”

You shook your head, biting your lip. “I haven't.” You exhaled shakily, lowering your hands and staring at the calm river in front of you. 

How do you even begin to explain this to him? 

'Hey babe, remember how I told you I had a complicated past? Surprise! My ex-situationship is Kim Mingyu, your best friend, and we’re going to be seeing each other almost every day now. Do you still want me to move in?’

“I’m scared, Hee,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I just… I’m terrified of how he’ll react. What if he thinks I’m not over Mingyu? What if this ruins everything?”

Dahee frowned, tilting her head as she regarded you with a mixture of concern and resolve. “But you’re not holding onto Mingyu, right?” she searches for your face, and when you say nothing, she asks, her tone turning more serious, “I mean, how do you actually feel about him?”

Mingyu.

Mingyu.

How did you feel about Mingyu? It wasn’t an easy answer. One you were still working to figure out. Just his name alone brought a flurry of emotions you didn’t want to confront. Guilt, anger, sadness, longing—all of it muddled together, making it impossible to think straight.

“I…”  you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper. You looked away, focusing on the ripples in the river as if they might offer some clarity. “I don’t know.”

Dahee didn’t push, giving you space to sort through the chaos in your head. But the silence wasn’t comforting—it felt like an interrogation room, the weight of the truth pressing down on you.

“It’s not that I’m still in love with him,” you finally said, your voice barely audible. “It’s just… seeing him bring back everything I tried so hard to bury. The what-ifs, the unresolved feelings, the stupid hope that maybe, somehow, he didn’t forget about me too.”

“I’m not gonna lie,” she started, her tone playful. “For a long time, I thought the guy from Osaka was your imaginary friend or something.” You laughed at her effort to lighten the mood, grateful for her attempt to break the tension within you. “The way you talked about him back then, it was like he’d disappeared into thin air. Poof.”

You sighed, the weight of your thoughts settling in as you laid your head into her shoulder. “Maybe it would have been easier if he had.”

Dahee let out a soft hum, her hand gently rubbing your arm as the two of you sat in silence for a moment. The city lights reflected on the surface of the river, casting a shimmering glow that felt oddly soothing despite the storm of emotions swirling within you.

“Maybe,” she said finally, her voice quieter now.

You glanced at her, a small, wry smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Do you think I’m a horrible person?”

She shook her head immediately, her expression softening.

“Not even close,” Dahee said firmly.”I think you are someone who has never gotten closure from your past.”

You looked down, letting her words settle over you like a balm. They didn’t erase the turmoil inside, but they softened the edges, making it feel a little less insurmountable.

Closure? What's that like?

“I just…” you began, voice trembling. “I don’t want to hurt Jungkook. He’s... he’s everything. And I’m scared that even considering talking to Mingyu is betraying him. I love Jungkook so much, Hee. He’s everything to me and I’m scared shitless of losing him.”

Dahee sat silently for a moment and her gaze drifted to the river. You could almost see her mind turning, sorting through the weight of your words and the emotions you’d finally allowed yourself to express, raw and unfiltered for the first time in ages.

“Listen, you don’t owe Mingyu closure. Not after what he and the company put you through. But you do owe it to yourself to figure out how you want to handle this. Whether that’s keeping things strictly professional or finally getting the answers you deserve.”

Her gaze seemed to be piercing your soul. You knew that no one was better at listening to your mental confusion than her, and you couldn't be more grateful that you had chosen to turn to her first.

“I do think you should give yourself some credit. You’ve been blindsided in a massive way, and anyone in your position would feel a little unsteady.” Dahee gave you a look that was equal parts stern and compassionate. “However, you need to talk to Jungkook about this. Not about Mingyu specifically, maybe, but about how you’re feeling. He loves you, anyone with eyes can see that. He deserves to know before this becomes an even bigger mess.”

You swallowed hard, her words hitting a little too close to home. Deep down, you knew she was right. Jungkook deserved honesty, even if it scared you to lay everything bare.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you murmured, your fingers curling into fists in your lap. “How do you tell someone you love that you’re suddenly tangled up in unresolved feelings from the past without making it sound like you’re questioning your relationship with them?”

Dahee let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re overthinking it, babe. Just tell him what you told me: that seeing Mingyu again threw you for a loop, but it doesn’t change how you feel about him.”You stared at her, the simplicity of her suggestion making your chest ache. Maybe it really was that simple—if you didn’t let fear complicate things further.

“And what about Mingyu?” you asked hesitantly, the name tasting bitter on your tongue. “Do I... talk to him? Or do I just pretend he’s not there and hope this whole thing goes away?”

“That depends,” Dahee’s expression hardened slightly, her lips pressing into a firm line. “If he wants to apologize, maybe hearing him out could give you some closure. But if he’s just trying to wiggle his way back into your life with no good reason, you don’t owe him anything.”

You exhaled, the weight of her words settling into your chest. She was right, as always—but that didn’t make any of this easier.

“I don’t even know if talking to Mingyu will give me the answers I’m looking for. Don’t know if I’m ready to hear them either,” you admitted. “What if it just makes everything worse?”

Dahee tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “Or what if it gives you the closure you need to finally move forward? You can’t control how it turns out, but avoiding it forever isn’t going to help either. Sometimes the only way out is through, babe.”

The thought both terrified and comforted you. Could you face Mingyu again, knowing how much he had hurt you—and how much you’d tried to move on? Could you really hear whatever it was that he needed to say without letting it unravel the life you’d built?

“I guess the question is,” Dahee continued, her voice softer now, “are you ready to let go of the past? Because if you are, maybe this conversation is exactly what you need to do.”

After your conversation with Dahee, you spent a few minutes alone in your studio-slash-apartment, carefully sorting through your thoughts until everything felt perfectly clear. You had finally made up your mind about telling Jungkook the whole truth, convinced that he deserved to hear all of it from you, and by all of it, you meant all of it, including your hesitations regarding the biggest opportunity of your career and why. 

No more secrets. No more running from your past. 

Still, even though you were certain of your decision, stepping out of the elevator in Jungkook’s building, you couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that the road ahead was about to become much more complicated. 

Could he handle all of it? Could you handle laying it all out for him?

It wasn’t just about the past; it was about the future, too. The idea of moving in together, of merging your lives more deeply than ever before, felt both exhilarating and terrifying. If you said yes, would this be the start of something even more beautiful than you already had now, or would the ghosts of your past threaten to tear it all apart? 

Your mind has been your worst enemy lately, and you knew that. It felt like the only things occupying it were unanswered questions and nagging insecurities. It was as if you had regressed four entire years of therapy to deal with things like that. 

The hallway on the top floor of the building where Jungkook lived was silent as you typed in the password and let yourself into the apartment. The familiar beep of the keypad was followed by the faint click of the door unlocking, and you stepped inside. 

Almost immediately, an excited Bam darted toward you, his nails clicking against the wooden floor. His dark eyes sparkled with recognition, and he let out a happy bark, throwing his front paws at your legs in a determined effort to reach your face. You laughed softly, crouching down to greet him.

“Hi, my baby,” you cooed, running your hands over his silky fur as his thin tail wagged furiously. “Did you have fun with uncle Junghyun today?”

Bam responded with an enthusiastic lick to your cheek, making you giggle despite the heaviness of your thoughts. You stayed there for a moment, scratching behind his ears and pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head, letting his boundless energy soothe some of your nerves.

Straightening up, you glanced toward the living room, where the glow of Jungkook’s mood light projector cast a soft, familiar warmth. Looking around, you saw that the television was paused in some reality show, and somewhere in the apartment, you could also hear the soft melody of an R&B song somewhere, although Jungkook was nowhere to be seen. 

“Bamie, where’s appa?” you asked sweetly, slipping off your shoes, setting your bag and phone on the console, noticing now that it was out of battery. Bam tilted his head at your question, then turned and trotted toward the hallway, as if to guide you. Smiling, you followed him through the apartment, your own footsteps muffled by the plush rugs beneath your feet.

The nerves began to creep back as you walked towards Jungkook's room, your heart picking up speed. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but the thought of holding back from him felt even worse. And you also knew that, despite your fear, he deserved all your honesty. 

Your footsteps faltered as your ears registered the sound of a soft sniffle coming from Jungkook’s room. The weight in your chest shifted, no longer nerves there but a pang of worry. You stood still for a moment, your fingers brushing the edge of the door frame as you leaned closer to listen.

“Jungkook?” you called out softly, your voice just above a whisper. His name hung in the air, but there was no immediate response, just the faint rustle of fabric and a muffled sound that could have been a shaky exhale.

Pushing the door open further, you stepped inside and were met with a sight that made your heart twist. Jungkook was sitting on the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees, and his head hung low. One hand raked through his dark hair in a way that seemed almost frantic, while the other clutched at his phone. His broad shoulders were hunched, and even in the dim light, you could see the slight tremble in them.

“Kookie,” you said again, your voice firmer this time but still gentle. Bam brushed past your legs, padding over to Jungkook and nudging his knee with his nose. Jungkook glanced up, startled, his wide, watery doe eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he quickly wiped at his face, as if trying to erase the evidence of his tears.

“Oh, hey, babe,” he mumbled, his voice thick and strained as he forced a small, unconvincing smile. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

You crossed the room in a few quick steps, kneeling in front of him to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong, baby?” you asked softly, your hands instinctively reaching out to rest on his knees. “Why are you crying?” 

“It’s nothing,” he said, shaking his head as if to dismiss your concern, but the crack in his voice betrayed him. He looked away, biting down on his bottom lip as his phone slipped from his hand and landed on the bed beside him. “I just… It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s making you feel like this,” you countered gently. Your mind raced through every possible scenario, trying to understand what could have left him like this. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

He nodded but hesitated, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. You ran your hands comfortingly through his damp hair, realizing that he must not have gotten out of the shower long ago, since the towel was still on the bed, and he was wearing only sweatpants.

“Did I do something?” you asked, unsure if the tears could have anything to do with what had happened in the kitchen this morning.

Jungkook shook his head immediately, his eyes widening as he met your gaze again. “No, no, baby, it’s not you. It’s not anything you did. I swear.” His words were rushed, almost desperate, as if the thought of you blaming yourself had pulled him out of his emotional haze for a moment. “You could never…”

Relief washed over you, but the worry remained as you watched him struggle to find the words. His warm hands came up to cover yours where they rested on his knees. He gave them a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing against your skin as if grounding himself with your presence.

“Then what is it?” you asked softly, leaning in closer so your faces were only inches apart. “Please, Kook. I hate seeing you like this. Let me help.”

He inhaled deeply, his shoulders rising and falling as he tried to steady his breathing. For a moment, the room was quiet except for the faint hum of the music playing in the background. It seemed like he might brush it off again, but then he sighed heavily, his gaze finally meeting yours. His brows knitted together, his lips trembled, and fresh tears pooled in his reddened eyes. 

“I’m scared,” he whispered.

“Scared of what, baby?” your voice was soft as you massage the back of his hands with your thumbs. 

“Of the hiatus,” he admitted quietly. "Of what it can do to the members and me. Of having to do it all alone.”

Your heart sank at his confession. The weight of Jungkook's fears settled heavily in the room, making your own chest tighten. You should’ve known. It should’ve been your first thought, after seeing him struggling with it alone for days, refusing to share it with you; to worry you, just because he was that kind of person—the one who would never bother anyone with his problems.

But just as you had already predicted earlier, now that BTS were going to take a break to focus on their solo projects plus the military service that would start by the end of that year with Seokjin, Jungkook wasn't handling this in a very healthy way. He was sleeping poorly, smoking more, and skipping meals. He thought you didn’t notice, but there was nothing about him you didn’t see, and Jimin made sure to keep you updated on everything when you were apart.

You knew he enjoyed being active, being with the members, and doing what he loved most, giving it his all. You also knew that the idea of not being able to do that for a certain amount of time scared him more than he was willing to admit. Jungkook had a featuring song to be released with Charlie Puth in less than a week, and you knew he was feeling pressured by it. You just wished he had voiced his concerns before it got to this point. 

Reaching up, you gently cupped his face, brushing away the tears that slipped down his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Baby,” you murmured, your voice trembling with empathy as you shifted closer. “You don’t have to do it alone. You’re not alone.”

His eyes closed at your touch, his lashes wet with tears. “It feels like I am sometimes,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “The members… we’re all doing our own things, and I know it’s what we need, but it’s hard. I’m used to having them by my side, to leaning on them when it gets too much. Now, it’s just going to be… me.”

“But you have them,” you reminded him gently. “Even if you’re working on your own projects, they’re still your brothers.”

“I know that," he said, his lips trembling a little. “But what if I don't know who I am without them?”

“Then this is the moment you'll find out, love,” you said softly, your hands still cradling his face. “Trust me, this isn’t about losing who you are; it’s about finding new parts of yourself, ones you didn’t even know were there.”

He opened his eyes, his gaze searching yours as if trying to find reassurance in your words. “What if I mess up?” he asked, his voice cracking under the weight of his doubt. “What if I’m not good enough without them?”

“You won’t mess up,” you said with conviction, pressing your forehead gently to his after kissing the tip of his nose. “You’re talented, Jungkook. The most talented person I know. And more than that, you’re hardworking, dedicated, and passionate. Those things don’t disappear just because you’re standing on your own for a while. You’re more than enough, with or without BTS.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, his eyes fluttering shut again as he took a shaky breath. Then, he nodded, his hands reaching up to grasp your wrists gently, as if he was trying to ground himself again. 

“I don’t want to let anyone down. I don’t want to disappoint them, ARMY or you. I don't want these speculations to become true.”

The looming uncertainty of BTS's hiatus had been on everyone’s mind since Tuesday. It was an ongoing topic across the country and the world. Rumors of disbandment flooded social media and the news, but just as the members, you knew they weren’t true. They were still working on group projects, filming content, and recording songs; still together. 

The difference was that now they would have the freedom to explore their individuality and show the world who they truly were as artists. 

“First of all,” you whispered softly, placing a kiss on his temple. Jungkook had always been hard on himself, striving for perfection in everything he did, but seeing him let the words of strangers chip away at his confidence broke something in you. “You could never disappoint me. And the members, they understand, they know what you’re going through. As for ARMY, they would walk through hell for you. You’re not in this alone. Never.”

He stayed silent again, just breathing, as though taking in your words. You watched as the fear that had been evident in his eyes slowly started to fade, replaced by a mix of gratitude and uncertainty.

Jungkook leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours again, his hands gently cupping yours where they rested on his face. “I’m so lucky to have you.” 

“Believe me,” you whispered back, “I’m the lucky one.”

For a few moments, the two of you stayed like that, comforted by each other’s presence, the weight of his worries slowly lifting, if only for a moment. In that quiet space, with his hand in yours and his heart open before you, everything felt a little more manageable. So manageable that for at least that moment, you forgot what you came to do here tonight. 

But Jungkook made sure to bring you back to reality not long after.

“Now let’s forget about me,” he said, his voice sounding a little bit more upbeat now. “What about you doll? Have any big news to share with me?”

You chuckled softly, tilting your head to the side for a moment, to look at him carefully. “Are you sure you're okay, tough? If you want to keep talking, we can leave this for later.”

Was it selfish of you to want to avoid the subject? Maybe.

But really, you just wanted to make sure he was going to be okay, that all these treacherous thoughts would leave his mind and never return again, even though you knew this was like an impossible mission at the time.

Jungkook sighed, rubbing his face with his tattooed hand. “I’ll be okay. Just... a lot on my mind.” He looked at you, his eyes soft but weary. “I don't want to drag you into this. But thank you for asking.”

You bit your lip, not wanting to push him further, but unable to ignore the weight in his words. 

“Baby, I always want to be dragged into whatever is happening in there,” you murmured, using your index finger to point to his head. “It's my job to try to ease your bad thoughts.”

He smiled faintly, appreciating your offer, but you could tell he wasn’t ready to dive deeper into the conversation. Instead, he shrugged and said, “We’ll figure it out later. But for now, I just want to hear how your meeting went.”

The silence stretched between you two for a moment. You gave him a small, understanding nod, your hand resting lightly on the edge of the table between you. You didn’t press any further, trusting that when he was ready, he would find the words.

“Okay, but you know where to find me,” you said quietly, your voice steady and calm, offering him the space he needed.

Jungkook looked at you then, and for a moment, the storm in his eyes seemed to settle. “I know,” he said softly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Now tell me, please. I’m dying here.”

Looking back now, you knew that moment should’ve been the moment you told him everything. You should have used the confidence you had earlier to stop running from the truth you had kept hidden so far. 

But when your gaze met his beautiful doe eyes again, still red and puffy from crying, you also knew you couldn’t bear to do that to him. You couldn’t be the one to introduce more doubts and uncertainties into his life. Hell, there was nothing in the world you wouldn’t do to never see him cry like that ever again.

So you changed course, deciding that leaving the topic of Kim Mingyu and Japanese nights for another time was the best choice. To protect that small glimmer of peace you saw returning to him.

“They offered me a position as lead stylist for one of their major groups,” you said, trying to force the best smile you could. At the same time you were happy about the biggest opportunity of your career, your heart broke from having to hide things from Jungkook.

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly, his lips parting in surprise before a smile broke through the lingering haze of sadness. The shift in his expression was instantaneous, his tears momentarily forgotten as excitement replaced the storm cloud in his gaze. He got up from the bed immediately taking you with him.

“Babe, that’s amazing!” he exclaimed, his voice carrying a newfound energy as he wrapped you in a hug and spun you around in the air. “I told you! You’re so talented, of course they’d want you!”

The genuine enthusiasm in his voice was enough to both warm your heart and deepen the ache of your guilt. 

You nodded, unable to stop yourself from smiling at his words, even though a knot twisted in your throat. “Thank you,” you said softly. “I’m really excited. I’ve been dreaming of something like this for years.”

After years of working with big artists and accomplishing great things in this industry, things that had never been properly rewarded or given credit, you knew you deserved something like this. It was more than just a dream come true; it was the result of all your hard work. Every late night spent hemming clothes in cramped apartments, every early morning dragging garment bags through crowded subways, every tear shed over designs rejected without a second glance—it had all led to this moment.

“You’re amazing,” Jungkook said, pulling away slightly to look at you with admiration in his eyes. “Babe, I’m so proud of you.”

You returned the smile, though it was a little strained. “Thank you, Kookie,” you said again. 

You desperately wanted to take solace in his unwavering faith in you. And perhaps, just perhaps, gather the courage to tell him everything soon. For now, though, you stayed silent, allowing his love and support to envelop you, even as the weight of your secret pressed heavily on your heart.

“Did they tell you which group it was?” he asked, pulling you to sit on his lap as he sat on the bed again. 

You nodded, trying to avoid his gaze but afraid of raising suspicion. “It's Seventeen.”

You watched as a smile spread across Jungkook's face, his entire expression lighting up with joy at your news. You had expected this reaction, his excitement was inevitable. You knew he’d be thrilled not only by the idea of you being nearby again, but also working directly with his friends.

The problem, however, was that this was the one part that made you hesitant. It wasn’t that the rest of the members were at fault for your situation; you were certain they were incredible guys. Based on everything Jungkook had shared with you and what you’d read about them, you knew they would embrace you warmly and make you feel valued in your work.

Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling of butterflies in your stomach—the bad kind. It was a sensation that went far beyond the typical nerves of starting a new job. It felt like a premonition.

“It just keeps getting better,” Jungkook spoke in an excited tone, just as you imagined he would be. “That way I can ask Mingyu to take care of you.”

Your heart clenched at Jungkook's words, even as you tried to maintain your composure. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on you, and the mention of Mingyu’s name only deepened the knot in your stomach. You forced a smile, nodding slightly as you leaned into his chest, hoping the motion would shield your conflicted expression.

“That’s sweet of you,” you said softly, trying to keep your tone light as you rested your head on his shoulder. “But I think I’ll be fine. It’s a professional environment, after all.”

Jungkook chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring as he stroked your back. “I know you will. You’re amazing at what you do. But it doesn’t hurt to have someone looking out for you, right?”

You swallowed hard. What reasons would you have to say no? “Right,” you echoed, though the word felt hollow on your tongue.

The truth you had promised yourself to share with him earlier that evening now felt impossibly distant. Jungkook's excitement and trust in you only made it harder to picture disrupting this moment with the weight of your past. Yet, even as you held on to the comfort of his embrace, a quiet voice in the back of your mind reminded you that the longer you waited, the harder it would be to face the truth.

You squeezed your eyes shut, desperately trying to drown out the voices swirling in your mind, letting yourself get lost in the warmth of your boyfriend's arms, stealing just a little more time before you faced the storm.

“This is huge for you. We need to celebrate.” 

Jungkook's enthusiasm was infectious, so you allowed yourself to be swept up in it. His smile was wide, bunny teeth on full display now, and his arms wrapped tightly around you like he never wanted to let go. Deep inside, you wished he wouldn't. 

“Celebrate?” you repeated, opening your eyes and arching a brow, unable to keep the smile off your face. “What did you have in mind, Jeon Jungkook?”

He hummed, the corners of his lips quirking up mischievously. “A fancy dinner? Or... I could cook for you. Something special. Your favorite, maybe?”

“That sounds perfect,” you said softly, your heart swelling at the thoughtfulness in his voice. You didn't want a fancy dinner or anything else. You just wanted to enjoy the rest of the night with him and Bam; to stay right here in his embrace. 

Jungkook’s eyes lit up at your response, and his lips curved into the kind of grin that made your chest warm in the best way. “Then it’s settled,” he declared, leaning back slightly to look at you more closely. “Let’s open a bottle of wine too. You deserve it. This is your moment, babe.”

“Alright,” you said, your smile soft but genuine. “I want to help.”

Jungkook groaned dramatically, shaking his head. “No way. You’re the guest of honor tonight. Your job is to sit back, relax, and enjoy.”

“Guest of honor?” you teased, tilting your head. “I live here half the time.”

“Exactly,” he said, leaning closer until your foreheads nearly touched. “Half the time. Which means tonight, you get to be spoiled.”

You laughed, unable to stop yourself from leaning into him. “Fine,” you conceded. “But I’ll set the table.”

“Deal,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a soft, affectionate tone. For a moment, the weight of your secret felt just a little lighter, his unwavering love wrapping around you like a shield against the storm you knew was coming soon.

If you were being honest, you had expected the night to end like this. Not with warmth and laughter, but with words sharp enough to leave invisible cuts. You hadn't anticipated, however, that it would be for entirely different reasons from those you thought. Or maybe, deep down, you had known. You should’ve known, at least, that this subject had probably been taking up residence in his mind throughout the day.

It had started so innocently. You had an amazing dinner with Jungkook, sharing Japchae and a bottle of wine. You’d explained your work with Seventeen, detailing the complexities of managing their schedules, moods, and preferences, all while ensuring their cohesive look as a group. He’d listened attentively, supportive as always, even suggesting he could travel with you when his own schedule allowed.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if I could join you and Mingyu for part of the tour?” he had said, his excitement genuine.

The night seemed perfect and as it came to a close, you insisted on helping him at least put the dishes back in the cupboard. But Jungkook refused, gently telling you to go get ready for bed while he took care of all the cleaning himself. Feeling the drowsiness from the wine setting in, you didn’t put up much of a fight and headed off to unwind.

You were calmly brushing your teeth when Jungkook entered the bathroom, quietly sitting on the toilet lid, after putting Bam in his room to sleep. Through the mirror, you saw his eyes heavy with sleep and the lingering effects of the wine on his face. 

“You didn’t have your phone with you today?” he asked after a moment, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you through half-closed eyes.

You paused mid-brush, the question catching you off guard. “I did,” you replied after a pause, spitting out the toothpaste. “But it ran out of battery at some point during the day, and I didn’t see it until I got here.”

Jungkook didn’t respond immediately. He simply watched you, his expression unreadable. “Where did you go after the meeting?”

You frowned, sensing something off in his tone. You hadn’t expected him to ask about your day in such detail, especially considering how understanding he’d been about your busy schedule. You could tell there was something in his tone that made it feel less like casual curiosity and more like... concern, maybe even unease.

You quickly finished brushing your teeth and rinsed your mouth, turning to face him, your hand still holding the toothbrush in a vague gesture of distraction.

“I went for a meal with Dahee,” you said slowly, testing the waters. “We haven’t seen each other in ages, and it was nice to catch up.”

His jaw tightened slightly and Jungkook sat there, watching you with a contemplative expression, his gaze flicking to the toothbrush you were setting down on the counter. “And how did you arrange that?”

“Through my phone…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling defensive.

“Right,” he muttered, nodding almost imperceptibly. “So your phone died, but you managed to message Dahee before that?” His voice was calm, but the underlying tension was unmistakable.

You paused, trying to gauge his mood. Jungkook was always the type to give you space if you needed and he had never been insecure about your relationship, nor had he shown any distrust towards you at any time during the past six months. But there was an intensity in his eyes now that made you wonder if something was bothering him, if he would have talked to someone who was possibly much braver than you when it came to telling the truth to his face.

“Jungkook,” you said, turning to face him fully after drying your hands on the towel and placing your toothbrush beside his. “What’s going on? Are you upset I went out with my best friend?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s not that. I just…” He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “You couldn’t text or call me back? Not even once?”

His words hung in the air like a challenge, and suddenly the warmth of the evening felt suffocating. “I’ve been busy,” you said, crossing your arms defensively. “I told you today would be packed.”

“And you couldn’t spare five seconds to let me know you were okay?” His voice was rising now, the hurt unmistakable.

You blinked, his words landing heavier than you expected. Jungkook’s tone wasn’t angry, but it was raw, tinged with something that felt like hurt. His wide eyes searched for yours, the vulnerability in them throwing you off balance.

“I—” you started, only to falter. Maybe you deserved it after ignoring his multiple missed calls. “Kook, my phone was dead. I didn’t even think about it because it was such a last-minute thing with Dahee. I wasn’t trying to ignore you.”

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees as he buried his face in his hands for a moment. When he looked back up, his expression was softer, but the tension in his shoulders remained. “I know you weren’t ignoring me. It's just... when you didn’t have your phone with you, and I couldn’t reach you... I started to wonder if you were avoiding me after this morning.”

And there it was. 

“Jungkook…”

“I don't want to scare you off with the idea of moving in; I just thought that—”

He broke off, running a hand through his hair. The vulnerability etched across his face made your heart ache. You knew, from the moment you had walked out of the kitchen this morning, stating you needed to think about it, that this matter would linger unresolved in his mind. You had felt it would create a tension that would only grow if you didn’t address it according to his timing. 

“You just thought what?” you prompted gently, your voice soft but insistent.

“That it might bring us closer,” he finally said, looking up at you. “That would show you how serious I am about us. About you.”

The warmth of his words seeped into your chest, the tenderness behind them making your heart flutter. But just as quickly, doubt crept in.

You swallowed hard, your thoughts swirling. You told yourself Jungkook wasn’t trying to guilt-trip you about this—at least, that’s what you kept repeating, hating yourself for even entertaining the idea. Still, the unease lingered inside, as if your freedom to think it over was somehow a source of discomfort for him.

You couldn’t help but study his face, your eyes scanning every feature, searching for even the slightest hint of uncertainty about this. There was none—his expression was steady, resolute. Unlike your own mind, which was spiraling, racing through every possible reason for your hesitation.

“I meant it,” he stated, eyes searching for something in yours. “I don’t want you to be anywhere else but here with me. I love having you around. And honestly, it feels like the right time."

You took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling heavily, before opening the door and stepping out of the bathroom. Entering the bedroom felt like seeking refuge, as if the space could somehow ease the tightness in your chest and help you breathe better. His words echoed in your mind, their gravity sinking in as you started pacing around his bedroom, your movements restless.

Your thoughts raced wildly—this wasn’t just a step; it was a leap, one that would change everything. The idea was both thrilling and utterly terrifying.

And you wanted it. Didn’t you?

Jungkook was everything you’d ever dreamed of—kind, stable, and endlessly patient with every quirk and flaw you carried. You loved him, deeply and fiercely. Yet, the thought of merging your lives so intimately made your heart race for reasons that weren’t entirely joyful.

The events of the past week and this afternoon loomed in your mind, a dark shadow cast over the light you’d found with him, lingering just enough to make you question if now was the right time.

Jungkook came out of the bathroom and was now standing near the closet door, watching you silently as you paced around, his dark eyes tracking your every move with a mix of curiosity and patience. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but more calm than before. He wasn’t rushing you, wasn’t pushing for an answer—just waiting, giving you the space to process what he’d said.

“I… I don’t know,” you began, biting your lip. “It’s a big step, don’t you think?”

He nodded, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. “I know,” he replied gently. “It’s a huge step, but I’m ready for it, and I want to take it with you.”

You took another deep breath, running your fingers through your hair and feeling the walls closing in around you. Jungkook’s expression faltered, confusion flashing across his features as he watched you.  

“What’s wrong? Don’t you want to?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you said finally, your words carefully chosen. “I just… I feel like maybe it’s too soon?”

He studied you with a frown. “Too soon? Y/N, it’s been six months. I love you. I want to build a life with you.”

“I know,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. “And I love you too. But…” you trailed off, unable to put into words your emotions. 

“But what?”

Oh, I don't know, I'm kind of keeping a secret from you that I slept with your best friend four years ago and we pretended we didn't know each other to your face, and I don't know how to deal with that. Do you still want me to move in?

The absurdity of saying it aloud hit you like a cold wave, and your breath caught in your throat. It wasn't just the words themselves, it was the potential devastation they carried, the way they could shatter everything you and Jungkook had carefully built together so far. Not that this situation was making things much better, you thought.

You shook your head as if trying to physically dislodge the thought. This wasn’t the time, not now. Maybe not ever. But the weight of the unspoken truth lingered above your head, pressing down on you even as you stood frozen in the middle of the bedroom.

This wasn’t about doubting your feelings for him. You loved Jungkook more than words could express. He had shown you time and again that he was there for you, steady and unwavering, no matter what. But taking this step—making this commitment—wasn’t just about love. It was about letting go of the fears that whispered what-ifs in the quiet corners of your mind.

And mostly, letting go of the past. What you weren't sure you were ready to do anymore.

You had been so sure of yourself just hours ago. Why doubt clawed at your chest now?

Finally, you stopped pacing and turned to face him, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if for comfort. You shook your head, unable to meet his gaze. “But what about everything else? My work, your schedule? It’s a lot to juggle.”

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “We’ll figure it out. I just want to be with you, come home to you. I think it could be amazing. Just think about it, babe, no more running back and forth, no more late-night drives. It’s closer to work, and you’d waste less time in traffic.”

“What about my apartment?” you asked, but deep down it was clear you were just looking for reasons to stand your ground.

His response was immediate, as if he’d already thought of it. “You can turn it into your studio. I can help you with that.”

“You’ve thought of all this.” It wasn’t a question, though it sounded like one.

“I have,” he admitted, his tone soft but certain. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

What the hell was wrong with you? Why didn’t you want to live with this perfect man standing in front of you, offering everything you’d ever wanted?

You chewed your lip again, hesitating before you spoke again. “I just think we should wait a little longer.”

Jungkook sighed, and the playful lightness from earlier vanished. “Y/N, if this is about me leaning on you too much, then say so. I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“No, it’s not that,” you replied quickly, though doubts began to creep in.

“Then what is it?” he asked, his tone tinged with hurt.

You opened your mouth to explain but faltered. How could you share that the memory of Mingyu’s piercing gaze and your unresolved history loomed in your mind? That, despite your love for Jungkook, moving in together felt like a complicated risk right now?

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I do. It’s just…” You sighed, shaking your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’re acting like I should drop everything and just say yes!”

His expression darkened, confusion morphing into irritation. “I thought we were building a future together, and now it feels like you’re pulling away!”

“It’s too soon!” you shouted back, the admission tumbling out before you could stop it.

Jungkook blinked, his expression a mix of hurt and disbelief. “Too soon? Y/N, we’ve been together for six months. I love you. I want to build a life with you. How is that too soon?”

“I don’t know!” you cried, running a hand through your hair again. “I just… I need more time, okay?”

“More time for what?” His voice cracked, the vulnerability in his eyes making your stomach churn. “To figure out if you even want this? If you even want me?”

“Don’t do that,” you said sharply, your hands trembling. “Don’t twist this into me not loving you, because you know that’s not true.”

“Then what is it?” he demanded, stepping closer. “Because right now, it feels like you’re running away.”

“I’m not running away!” you yelled, your voice echoing in the bedroom. “I’m just… I’m trying to figure things out. My work, your schedule—there’s so much to juggle.”

“I told you: we can figure it out together,” he said, his tone softening for a moment. “But I can’t keep doing this, Y/N. I need to know you’re all in.”

Your throat tightened, tears stinging your eyes. “I am all in,” you whispered, though now even you weren’t sure if it was entirely true.

“Then prove it,” he said, his voice low but steady. “Because right now, it doesn’t feel like you are.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of his words crushing you. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came. How could you explain the doubts that clawed at you? How could you explain to him that you were scared to death that your past would come back to destroy what you had built together without telling him who your past was?

Silence lingered between you, heavy and suffocating. Your shoulders slumped as you sat on the edge of the bed trying to control your legs that you hadn't realized were shaking. “I’m too tired for this right now, Jungkook. Can we please talk tomorrow?”

He stood there for a moment, staring at you with a mixture of hurt and anger before shaking his head. “Fine.”

Jungkook grabbed a spare blanket from the closet and headed for the couch, the soft sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall. You stood there, your reflection staring back at you in the mirror wall, tears streaming down your face for the first time this week.

The night had ended exactly as you’d expected. Just not for the reasons you’d hoped.

You’d officially step into your new role as Seventeen’s lead stylist three days later, after submitting your resignation letter to Elle Magazine. The transition from one job to the other had been anything but smooth, even though HYBE had done their part to ease the process. You were grateful for their professionalism and for agreeing to handle any complications with your former employer, even providing a temporary replacement until a permanent hire could fill your position, showing how much they wanted you to work with them.

They wanted you to start immediately, which meant you’d already spent the last three days coordinating the group’s wardrobe remotely, finalizing adjustments, sending approvals through a dizzying chain of emails, and constantly contacting their former stylist, named Mitsuri Miyawaki, known as Stormi. 

Three whole days of nonstop emails, virtual meetings, and late-night alterations that had blurred together, confined to your apartment-turned-studio, sewing and sketching, and though you were now more excited about the chance to leave an even greater mark in the fashion and entertainment industry, your whole body bears witness to your tiredness.

All of this, however, meant that you hadn’t spoken or seen Jungkook in three whole days. The next morning, when you woke up, he had already left for work, and you couldn’t wait for him to come back, since doing so would’ve made you late. The only messages exchanged between the two of you over the past three days had been about Bam, aside from the one you sent this morning: a simple "Fighting ❤️," knowing today would be the release of Left and Right.

You wished things were different right now, but there wasn’t much you could do to improve the situation, especially since your answer to what he wanted so desperately remained unchanged.

As always, for the past three days you have been using your coping mechanism: focusing on work to forget your problems. 

And Stormi had been a lifeline in your chaos. To your surprise, she was now TXT’s new stylist and, apparently, also Vernon’s girlfriend. That particular tidbit had been casually dropped into one of your conversations catching you off guard, but making you have an immense empathy for her immediately, since you were practically in the same boat. 

She was extremely kind and attentive to your questions, and within just a few days, the two of you had already spoken more than you had with anyone else this week, constantly staying in touch through countless messages, video and phone calls. Her guidance was invaluable, but it was clear she was more than ready to hand over the reins. 

For your first day, she had offered to show you around the building and take you to the cafeteria for an iced americano, mentioning it was one of the largest and most varied she had ever seen, which, of course, you couldn’t deny. 

“Have you met Choi Arin sunbaenim, yet? The supervisor?” Mitsuri asked you, when you two entered the cafeteria. 

You shook your head, scanning the spacious cafeteria with curiosity as you joined the line to place your orders. You immediately recognized some familiar artists scattered at tables, chatting and eating animatedly, along with various members of the staff team.

“Not yet,” you admitted, glancing at Mitsuri as you queued up to place your orders. “We've only communicated through email. She mentioned she'd stop by my studio before introducing me to the members.”

One of the things you had discovered was that here, the team of stylists of each group had their own separate space to work, even though the general HYBE wardrobe room was available to anyone who needed it. And since you were in charge of guiding Seventeen’s stylist team, you also had a private studio for yourself, which you had appreciated very much.

“She's a cow,” Mitsuri said, without beating around the bush. “She’s been on my case since day one. Honestly, it’s a miracle I wasn’t fired when she found out about my relationship with Hansol.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “She’s the one who discovered it?”

“Unfortunately.” Mitsuri rolled her eyes dramatically. 

“I'm guessing she didn't approve?” You let out a genuine chuckle at the expression on her face.

“That’s putting it lightly,” Mitsuri snorted, grabbing a tray for her order. “She’s a stickler for rules, and she doesn’t care much for personal connections interfering with work. Can’t say I blame her entirely, things can get messy if you’re not careful, but still, it’s exhausting.”

“She must’ve been intense,” you said, cringing at the thought of a stern supervisor breathing down your neck.

“Oh, absolutely,” Mitsuri said, chuckling softly. “To be fair, HYBE has some pretty strict policies about that sort of thing. But you know how it is—long hours, close quarters. Things happen.” She shrugged. “That's why I was relocated.”

The mention of personal connections and professionalism hit a little too close to home, given the delicate balance you were already trying to maintain between your personal and professional life. The last thing you needed was for someone like Arin to scrutinize your every move.

Mitsuri seemed to sense your unease, her expression softening. 

“Don’t let her intimidate you, though,” she continued, her tone lightening as you moved down the line. “You’re ridiculously talented. They wouldn’t have hired you if they didn’t think you could handle it.”

Her words brought a small smile to your lips. “Thanks, Stormi. That means a lot.”

She shrugged with a grin. “Just speaking the truth. Besides, you’re gonna kill it here. I’ve seen your work and it’s amazing. The guys are lucky to have you.”

The line moved forward, and you placed your order, grateful for the brief reprieve from the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind as always. While Mitsuri grabbed a piece of iced lemon loaf cake to enjoy right away, you decided your stomach couldn’t handle much more than an espresso to keep you awake. Still, you couldn’t resist grabbing a chocolate chip cookie for later because it looked too good to pass up.

“Okay, but enough about Arin,” Mitsuri said, offering you a reassuring smile. “You’re going to love working with Seventeen. They’re a handful, sure, but they’re good guys. They make all the stress worth it. And if you ever need a break or a rant session, just call me. I’ll sneak you out for coffee, or a drink if it’s really bad.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, her easy going demeanor putting you at ease despite the lingering nerves. “I might take you up on that.”

As the barista handed over your orders, Mitsuri raised an eyebrow, her smile never fading. “You already know some of them, right?”

The two of you weaved through the maze of tables, heading toward one near the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sunlight streamed in, highlighting the bustling cafeteria as you settled into your seats, the view of the city below serving as a stunning backdrop.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding as you took a sip of your coffee. “Seokmin, Minghao and... Mingyu. They are friends with Jungkook. I don’t know them much more than that.”

You knew that starting a friendship by lying wasn’t the best approach. But what could you do? She was still a stranger—albeit a dear one, but a stranger nonetheless. It wasn’t like you could just spill personal details about your life, especially when it came to your past. The NDA was still in effect, after all.

After your answer, Mitsuri proceeded to give you a complete dossier on each of the members, describing them with an excited smile and evident affection. It was clear that she had loved working with them, and it probably hadn’t been easy to be reassigned to another group. Still, she seemed to like TXT just as much, mentioning that they were great, though less chaotic than Seventeen.

Despite the nervousness, you found yourself laughing, already imagining what kind of dynamic they must have within the group. It sounded like Seventeen was a vibrant mix of personalities, each one offering something unique to the group, and you’d soon be a part of that energy.

“Jeonghan looks like an angel, he’s even nicknamed Angel, but trust me, there’s nothing angelic about him. Not in a bad way, though,” Mitsuri added with a grin. “I say this with great affection. His language of love is disturbance. He’s a great listener also.”

“Disturbance as a love language, huh?” you chuckled, taking another sip of your coffee. “Sounds... intriguing.”

“Oh, it is,” Mitsuri replied, her grin widening. “But you'll love him. Jeonghan has this way of making everyone feel at ease, like he’s scheming something, but in a way that makes you curious rather than nervous. He’s got that kind of charm.”

You couldn’t help but smile, her enthusiasm contagious. It was clear she held a deep affection for the group, which eased some of your anxieties about stepping into your new role. If they were anything like Mitsuri described, you had a feeling this job, though challenging, might also be a lot of fun.

As the conversation continued, Mitsuri moved on to talk about Joshua, the group's resident gentleman, and his impeccable manners that somehow made his occasional mischievous moments more surprising. Then there was Seungkwan, who, according to Mitsuri, was a whirlwind of energy and emotion, a living embodiment of both comedy and heartfelt sincerity.

“Don’t even get me started on him,” Mitsuri said, shaking her head fondly. “Seungkwan’s like a serotonin boost in human form. But be prepared, he’ll probably want your opinion on everything, from wardrobe choices to which snacks should be stocked in this bedroom.”

You laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. He sounds like he’d be hard to say no to.”

“Oh, he is,” she confirmed with a mock-serious nod. “And then there’s Mingyu…” Mitsuri’s tone shifted slightly, a hint of something playful but cautious creeping into her voice. “You’ve already met him, right?”

“Briefly,’ you said, keeping your tone neutral. “We were introduced through Jungkook a while back.”

Mitsuri hummed thoughtfully. “Well, Mingyu is... Mingyu,” she said finally, her words laced with amusement. “He’s an absolute sweetheart. Tall, a bit clumsy, but honestly one of the kindest people you’ll ever meet. Not to mention, he’s ridiculously good-looking.” She smirked. “He’s got this... aura about him. Basically the human equivalent of a golden retriever. But don’t let that fool you. He’s a flirt, and he knows it.”

A shiver ran down your spine. Oh, you knew it too.

You wanted to smile at the fact that, despite everything, Mingyu was still the same, but you held yourself back. Every detail Mitsuri described knocked on the door to the basement of your heart, bringing back a faint sense of familiarity you hadn’t realized was still lingering there. It felt like looking at a photo of someone you used to know. 

You just nodded, filing away the information. 

“He’s a perfectionist, though, so don’t be surprised if he’s the one asking for adjustments on his outfits the most.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Trust me,” Mitsuri said, leaning back in her chair. “You’re about to experience the Mingyu Effect firsthand. And once you do, there’s no going back.”

You knew she was right. You had lived through it, you were more than familiar with it.

Mitsuri had moved on to the next member, and you were lifting your coffee to your lips, laughing at her description of Hoshi, when your attention shifted to the counter. You analyzed a group of four guys who had just entered the cafeteria, causing several heads to turn in their direction.

They all had their backs turned to you and Mitsuri. The first one had black hair, and despite his small stature, his physique was strong and well-proportioned. The second one wasn’t much taller, with a lean, toned physique and brownish hair. The guy who came right after him had light brown hair as well, but his muscular, athletic build—with broad shoulders and strong arms—made him clearly the second tallest of the group.

The last one of the group was much taller than the rest, with a long, muscular torso that clearly drew attention wherever he went, including from the group of girls sitting just a few inches away from him. His black hair was a little messy, falling over his ears and you could see the muscles on his back through the fabric of the white shirt he was wearing.

From that angle, he looked like thousands of other ordinary men in Seoul, but you knew exactly who he was.

It was as if he had been summoned.

Unable to look away, you were paralyzed, waiting for the moment when he would turn around and spot you, right in his line of sight, after nearly two weeks since you told him you would think about it and had remained completely radio silent. 

“Y/N?" Mitsuri calls out to you, following the direction of your gaze. You hold your breath for a moment, relieved when a group of staff members stepped into her line of sight. "Is everything okay?”

You blink, stunned. This couldn't be happening. “Uh... Yeah. I... I just…” You trail off, searching for the right words, but your mind feels foggy as you try to focus on anything else but the man standing across the room.

You looked back at the counter and saw his eyes locked on you, his face completely incredulous, as if he was feeling the same way you were about him: like the sight of you there was some sort of figment of his imagination. He blinked a few times and you swallowed hard.

The moment you saw his feet moving, instinct takes over your body, and a surge of self-preservation propels you out of your chair.

“I'm sorry, Storm,” you said, glancing at her. “I have to go.”

She looks puzzled by your sudden behavior but simply says, “Oh, it's okay.”

“I just remembered I need to make some adjustments, and…” Your eyes dart up, catching sight of him coming closer. “Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks for everything.”

You grab your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and rushes between the tables, darting out of the cafeteria at a speed you didn’t know was humanly possible. Without daring to look back, you hurry toward the elevator's hallway, your heart racing, unsure if he’s following you or not.

The elevator doors seem to take an eternity to open as you anxiously tap all them, stealing quick glances over your shoulder. Each second feels like a lifetime, your heart pounding in your ears, drowning out the hum of the bustling building.

You silently beg for the elevator to arrive, gripping the strap of your bag so tightly your knuckles ache. Just as the sign shows it’s on the 9th floor, you catch sight of him stepping into the hallway, his tall figure unmistakable even from a distance.

“Y/N.”

The sound of his voice calling out your name freezes you in place, sending another chill down your spine again. You feel the weight of his gaze even before you turn to meet it, and you swallow hard again, hand hovering over the elevator button as you consider your options. Run, face him, pretend you didn’t hear him—none of them feel like the right answer.

You glance over your shoulder, trying to appear composed, though every nerve in your body is screaming to run. Mingyu is just a few feet away now, his expression a mix of disbelief and something you can’t quite place. Relief? Confusion? Frustration? Maybe all three.

“Y/N,” he calls once more, and this time, you can hear the unmistakable urgency in his voice. The gentle way he says your name tugs at something inside you, making it even harder to stand your ground. 

The elevator dings, its doors sliding open, offering an escape route. You hesitate, torn between stepping inside and hearing what he has to say. Suddenly, your feet seem to have forgotten their purpose right at the moment that you wanted to shield yourself from the storm brewing between you and the man standing behind you. 

“Y/N. Seriously?” he says softly, his tone carrying a thousand unspoken meanings.

You exhale sharply, your resolve crumbling at the vulnerability in his tone. Slowly, you turn to face him, your bag still clutched tightly against your side. His dark eyes lock onto yours, searching for something, though you’re not sure what.

“Please,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “Just give me a minute.”

“Hi," you finally manage to say. You’re trying to figure out what to say, but your head is filled with a jumble of meaningless words. Hi? Really? Who, in their right mind, says something as dumb as 'Hi' at a time like this?

"Are you...?" he begins, his voice breathless. "Why are you avoiding me?"

You blink, caught off guard by his question. For a moment, you're paralyzed, unable to respond. It feels as though time slows, the noise of the building fading into the background as his voice echoes in your mind. 

It wasn’t exactly your intention to avoid him, but lately, it seemed like that was your only response to everything being thrown your way.

You open your mouth, but the words don’t come out right away. “I’m not... I wasn’t…” You trail off, unsure of how to even begin explaining. “I didn't mean to,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. You take a step back, trying to create some space between you two, but his gaze doesn’t waver.

“You didn’t mean to what?” His voice is softer now, tinged with something that sounds like frustration, but also concern.

You glance down, feeling the weight of everything you’ve been trying to avoid coming back to you all at once. You want to tell him everything—the reasons you’ve kept your distance, the mess of emotions tangled up in your heart—but it’s too much to say all at once. It’s too raw, too complicated. You need to be mentally and emotionally prepared for a conversation like this.

He stared at you for a beat longer, his brows furrowing as if he were trying to read you. It felt like he was slowly beginning to grasp the weight of the situation, the realization dawning on him bit by bit. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah,” you replied, your throat tight. The tension between you felt palpable, like you were both standing on the edge of something you weren’t ready to face yet. “It has.”

His voice was laced with something that sounded almost… regretful as he said, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again after...”

You blinked, taken aback by the rawness in his tone. “Yeah. Neither did I.”

But your confusion only deepened with every word he said. He was the one who left. He was the one who disappeared without a trace after that last day. He was the one who had shoved that NDA down your throat. And yet, here he was, looking at you like he hadn’t wanted that.

You couldn’t make sense of it.

The air between you felt thick, suffocating you in this huge hallway. You looked away, trying to steady your breath, trying to keep control. But his presence was overwhelming, stirring things inside you that you didn't even know how to explain without seeming like you were still madly in love with him.

Because you weren't.

You were hopelessly in love with Jungkook and only him.

“Mingyu,” you said, struggling to swallow the lump in your throat as you speak his name out loud for the first time. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have a meeting in fifteen minutes.”

He leaned down, his face leveling with yours.

“Are you kidding me?” His eyes were wild, full of disbelief. He took a step forward while you took one back, your back hitting the metal of the elevator doors. “You think I’m just going to bump into you again, say ‘Hey, Y/N, what’s up?’ and let you walk away again? Just like that? No more words, no more talking for another four fucking years? Have you even thought about talking at all?”

Your breath catches at his words, and for a moment, everything feels like it’s collapsing in on you. You wanted to make sense of what he meant by emphasizing the word again. But at the same time, you were afraid that knowing might make things inside you worse. His intensity, the raw emotion in his voice, it’s all so much harder to face than you ever expected. 

“I'm not ready for this conversation yet,” you admit quietly, looking away from him to stare at your own shoes.

“You need to be ready to talk to me?”

“If there’s anyone I need to be ready for, it’s you,” you admitted, your voice almost low enough that he wouldn't hear. But he did. You saw it in the way his entire face seemed to contort in pain, exactly like the pain twisting in your own chest.

“I just need…” he begins, searching for your gaze. “How are you? How long have you been back?”

“I’m fine,” you answered mechanically. “I got back in August.”

For the last four years, you've been angry, convincing yourself you were above it all, but just one single look at his face was enough to make you understand that you weren't. 

Quite the opposite, actually. 

Somehow, you're holding it together, barely managing to keep your composure, but you knew that if you stayed even a second longer, you wouldn't be able to keep it up. The way Mingyu's face seems to mirror the confusion that's going on in your head, combined with only two hours of sleep and no clue when this day would end, is too much for you to handle right now. You need to get out before everything unravels.

“I have to go,” you say, your voice suddenly desperate. “Okay?”

Before he could respond, you turned and walked away, heading straight for the first elevator with its doors wide open. You’re aware he could’ve caught up to you in a few quick steps, his long legs easily closing the distance, but he doesn’t. And as the elevator jolts downward to the 15th floor, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he's still there, just behind you.

When Choi Arin finally arrived at your studio, around three in the afternoon, your nerves had completely calmed, though a throbbing pain in your head prevented you from thinking clearly enough to continue sewing the gold studs onto the leather of the black jacket that would soon belong to Wonwoo.

To your surprise, she didn’t say much, simply asking you to follow her—and so you did. Now, the two of you were trapped in the elevator, traveling from the 15th floor to the 6th in almost complete silence, the only sound being the soft hum of the metal.

You glanced at her from the corner of your eye, but she remained unchanged: her gaze was focused on the metal doors, her posture erect, hands clasped behind her back.

Her demeanor almost made her seem like a strict high school principal, but she was much younger than you had anticipated. If it weren’t for the badge hanging from her neck, clearly marking her position within the company, you might have easily mistaken her for one of the company’s female artists, especially considering her striking beauty.

“How has your first day been so far?” she finally asked, turning her body slightly to look at you. Her eyes are piercingly intimidating, yet her voice remained calm and gentle, echoing through the elevator.

You felt the weight of her gaze, the intensity of her presence making it hard to keep your composure. It's as if she’s already assessing you, measuring you in ways you aren't prepared for. You straighten your posture, trying to mask the nerves bubbling up inside of you.

“It’s been... busy,”  you replied, trying to keep your tone light, though her intense gaze still made you feel on edge all over again. “I’ve been mostly settling in and getting familiar with the team. There’s a lot to process, but it’s all exciting.”

Arin nodded thoughtfully, her expression unreadable as she listened. “I’m glad to hear that. Transitioning into a new role, especially one like this, is never easy.” Her gaze briefly flicked down to your sketchbook, which you clutched in your hands. “I’ve heard you worked with Bangtan Sonyeondan before.”

You nodded, feeling a hint of pride. “Yeah, I worked with them for a while.”

At that moment, you assumed she would start a conversation about your past work experience, as most people in this field flipped out with excitement when they learned you were responsible for securing Dua Lipa a million-dollar contract with Versace or how you had styled BTS for the VOGUE X GQ Korea 2022 January issue and the Grammy’s. 

But you couldn't be more wrong. 

The way she clicked her tongue and pressed the button to stop the elevator on the eighth floor made her intentions very clear, exactly as Stormi had predicted: she wanted to intimidate you.

“This isn’t like the last time you worked here, so I would like to clear a few things up.”

Arin’s voice remained calm, but there was an edge to it now, one that made the air between you feel thick. She stood straight, her posture unwavering, as if she were delivering a warning she expected you to understand without questioning.

“First of all,” she began. “I don’t like you and that’s not going to change. If it was it for me, you wouldn't have been hired. I know your history and I don't approve of it. I’m the supervisor here, which means you answer to me. I don’t care that you have experience in this field or that your boyfriend is famous. I’m the one in charge here.”

The weight of Arin’s words hitted you like a physical blow, each one cutting deeper than the last, the abrupt shift in tone catching you off guard. You tried to keep your face neutral, but it was hard when everything inside you screamed to respond. You had worked for years to earn your place in this industry, to get to a position where you could walk into any room with confidence. But here, in front of Arin, that confidence felt like it was slowly slipping away.

“I don’t care how many people you’ve worked with, how many magazines you’ve graced, or how many contracts you’ve secured. None of that matters here. This is a different ball game, and the rules are mine. You follow them, or you’re out.”

You could feel your pulse quicken, and for a moment, you wondered if you should just walk away. But you knew that would be foolish. No matter how much Arin seemed to want to break you down, you weren’t the kind of person to let someone like her get the best of you.

“I understand,” you replied, keeping your voice steady.

"I expect you to follow protocol exactly as it's laid out, no exceptions," she said, leaning forward slightly. "And whatever personal connections you might have? Leave them at the door. This is a professional environment, and I won’t tolerate anything less than that."

You took a steadying breath, forcing yourself to remain composed. "Understood," you said evenly, meeting her eyes.

Her lips curled into a tight smile, but it wasn’t warm. “I want you to know that there will be no fraternizing with any of the group members. If you do, you’ll be fired. Do you understand?”

The intensity of her statement lingered in the air, her piercing gaze challenging you to flinch. But you didn’t. You square your shoulders and met her eyes, willing your voice to stay firm. “Crystal clear,” you replied.

“This is a very different environment,” she continued, her eyes locking with yours, as if daring you to challenge her. “Here, we don’t do things the way you might be used to. There’s no room for mistakes, no room for error. We work fast, we work hard, and we work with a level of professionalism that you might not have encountered before. I trust you understand that.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, her subtle jab not lost on you. Instead, you forced a polite nod, your expression calm despite the fire building in your chest. “Yes. And I respect your position. I’m here to do my job, and I intend to do it well.”

“We’ll see about that. I have my doubts. I hope you prove me wrong.”

You nodded again, not trusting yourself to speak. The pressure in the air felt suffocating, but you could tell that Arin wasn’t finished yet.

“You’ll be working under my direct supervision,” she continued, her tone sharper now. “And if I catch even the slightest hint that you're not living up to the standard I expect, you’ll be gone before you even realize what happened. Got it?”

You didn't even know if she had the power to do it, but it was clear that there was no room for negotiation. It was clear that Arin wasn’t interested in a discussion, only in making sure you knew exactly where you stood in this power dynamic.

“Got it,” you said again, your words tight but firm.

“I’m in charge here,” she adds again. “Anything I need goes through me.”

“Sounds good.”

“I don’t know how your last experience here worked, and I don’t care. Anything goes down with you and someone in the group, you’re fired. Remember one thing: I have eyes everywhere.”

The repetition of her words didn’t escape you, but you didn’t feel the need to comment on it. Arin was clearly intent on asserting dominance and testing how far she could push you. It was as if she needed to keep reminding you of the same boundaries, like she was trying to convince herself more than anything else.

You noticed the way her eyes kept scanning you, searching for cracks in your composure. It was strange—almost obsessive, as if she feared that a single slip-up would unravel everything. You could feel her frustration simmering just beneath the surface, her control slipping in these subtle ways that only someone used to being in power would notice. You almost wondered what it was about you that made her so intent on stamping out any hint of rebellion.

“Understood,” you repeated, careful to keep your tone neutral. Your mind was already spinning with the implications of her words.

You had worked in this industry for a long time, and Arin’s rules seemed arbitrary, almost paranoid. She couldn’t control everything, and if she didn’t relax, her insecurity would show.

You still had a job to do, and you weren’t about to let anyone make you doubt your place. “I’m here to work,” you said, trying to keep the slight edge from your voice. “And I’ll follow the protocol, exactly as you laid it out. No issues.”

Arin paused for a moment, studying you intently, as if she were searching for any hint of insincerity. But when her gaze softened, even just a fraction, you knew that she was registering your compliance. It wasn’t the warmth of trust, just the relief of a brief moment of silence where she wasn’t feeling threatened.

“Good,” she said at last, her voice slightly less sharp, though still guarded. “I expect no less.”

She pressed the button and the elevator started moving again with a jolt that almost made you lose your balance.

When you exited the elevator, you walked behind her until you reached one of the rooms, marked with a sign that reads: SEVENTEEN - Do Not Disturb - Rehearsal. 

“Welcome to the team,” Arin said over her shoulder, her tone colder than the temperature of the hallway. It wasn’t a greeting—it was more of a command. And then she opened the door to the practice room.

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[grimeshound]

UNDER YOUR SPELL.

word count: 4,329 (someone got a little carried away...)

pairing: in-ho x you.

summary: you haunt in-ho’s every thought, an obsession he can’t shake no matter how hard he tries—you have no idea the hold you have on him. when you get drunk for the first time, in-ho seizes the opportunity to show you just how deeply you’ve affected him.

cw: 18+, age-gap, dubcon (forced intoxication), mirror sex, first time, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, stomach bulge, semi-public sex, dirty talk, corruption, manipulation

a/n: i’ve had this plot simmering in my head over the past few days ever since i wrote my in-ho hcs and it was practically begging to be written … manipulative in-ho my beloved

---

Ever since he first laid eyes on you, In-ho thought you were the prettiest little angel to ever step foot in this hellhole.

You were nothing like the others. Kind, wide doe eyes, sweet smile that radiated innocence. He wondered how a pretty thing like you had ended up in a place like this. In-ho always did pride himself in his appreciation for the arts, all things with beauty. The moment he took notice of you, it didn’t take long for him to wonder what it would take to make you his.

You had joined a small group, after having met a kind man named Jung-bae who graciously let you in. Everyone shared their names, and that’s when you learned his. Oh Young-il. Except, of course, that wasn’t his real name. Just a guise, a character to play during the time he spent amongst the players. That didn’t matter, though, since you rarely used his name. 

“Sir,” you’d say. The times you did call his name, it’d be “Mister Young-il.”

The first time you spoke to him, you were nervous. It was hard not to be, something about his piercing gaze had a hold on you. Yet, you couldn’t help but admire him. The way you looked up at him, your voice so soft and deferential, made his pulse quicken. He’d do anything to protect you, and he did. Each time the games forced you apart, you’d come running to him the moment you returned to the main hall, your face lighting up with relief.

“I’m so happy you’re okay, sir.” You’d smile at him, and he’d smile back, gentle and reassuring.

You hadn’t realized it, but your attachment to him was carefully orchestrated, a product of all the high-risk situations In-ho would engineer to put you through. He’d swoop in at the perfect moment to save you, it made you trust him, made you depend on him more than anyone else. It also nurtured the little crush you were already dewasveloping, and he noticed. You couldn’t help it. He  kind to you, protective, and so devastatingly handsome.

Behind the scenes, he dug through your file. Orphaned from a young age, too naive to understand the world’s cruelties. Trusting the wrong people, you had fallen into debt, landing here. The more he learned, the more he was convinced—You needed someone to take care of you. Someone like him.

One night, In-ho just couldn’t take it anymore. After hours of keeping up his cold, calculated facade, he found himself teetering on the edge of his own sanity. The stress of orchestrating the games was always a burden he bore in silence. But lately? It wasn’t just the carnage and strategy that weighed on his mind. On top of all that, now there was you. Every stolen glance, every soft word you uttered, every moment in your presence had burrowed under his skin. You consumed him, invading every thought until there was no room for anything else.

He knew he was losing control.

When the last murmurs of conversation faded throughout the main hall and the players around him drifted into an uneasy sleep, he finally gave in to his impulses. He had a guard sneak him a bottle of soju, not caring how inappropriate or risky the request was. Rank had its privileges, and he wasn’t above abusing them.

Even in the dim light he spotted you, laid in your bed not too far from his own. All curled up and completely unaware of the monster disguised as your guardian angel watching over you. He swallowed thickly, his jaw clenching as he tried to steady his breathing. 

He listened to the sound of your breathing as a guide, the quiet rhythm of inhale and exhale filling his ears before finally pulling the bottle from its hiding place beneath his pillow. With a sharp twist, he uncapped it, the faint scent of alcohol wafting into the air around him. Sitting up in his bunk, he took a long, deliberate swig. The burn of the soju as it slid down his throat was a welcome distraction, albeit temporary. He exhaled, running a hand through his disheveled hair.  

The alcohol dulled the edges of his stress but sharpened something far more dangerous, far sicker. Desire. Thoughts of you came to surface before he could resist, vivid and unrelenting. He thought of your wide, trusting eyes looking up at him, the way your voice wavered when you spoke his name. He didn’t stop his thoughts when they turned more and more depraved. Your quiet utters of his name turning into obscene moans, innocent brushes of skin escalating into him fucking you like a madman into the crummy bed he sat beneath. The way you clung to him, so innocent, so naive, so completely unaware of just how sick his thoughts would turn because of you. 

He took another long swig, his grip tightening around the bottle as his frustration intensified. How could you do this to him without even realizing? Without even trying? It was maddening, the hold you had over him. And now, with the liquor loosening his usually taut held control, he found himself wondering how much longer he could resist. How much longer he could keep his hands to himself.

And then, as if summoned by his desires, your voice broke the silence.

“Sir?”

He turned to see you turned towards him, rubbing your eyes like a sleepy child. He softened instantly, smiling lazily as he called your name. “You’re awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” You climbed up to his bed without hesitation, settling beside him. “What about you?” 

“Me neither,” he murmured. He thanked whatever god there was that you couldn’t read his mind, couldn’t take a peek into the sick fantasies that had clouded up his thoughts just moments ago. Even now, when sat face to face with you, they played in the background— like a channel he couldn’t turn off no matter how hard he’d press the remote. Only, he didn’t make much effort in stopping them. If anything, the fantasies only shot up with you now in front of him. 

Your attention was soon drawn to the green bottle in his hand. “Is that… soju?”

He chuckled at your amazement. “It is.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “I’ve never had any before.”

His heart skipped. You really were too good to be true, weren’t you? He feigned surprise. “Never?”

You shook your head. “No. But..” You hesitated for a bit. “I’d like to try, if that’s okay.”

How polite. How trusting. He handed the bottle to you, hiding his smirk beneath a kind, patient smile. “Of course. Go ahead.”

You took it with both hands, your fingers brushing his briefly. There was a moment of hesitation, a fleeting glance at him as though you were silently asking for reassurance. He gave you a small nod, his expression warm and encouraging. Uttey deceptive. The thought of getting you completely wasted, rendering you impossibly dumber and even more impressionable than you already are rang like music to his ears. You tilted your head back as you gulped down more than he expected. He didn’t stop you, though. Simply watching with quiet satisfaction as you drained a sizable amount.

The first sip had your nose scrunching up, the bitter taste of the alcohol overhwleming you. Instead of backing out, you pressed on, curiosity and his approving gaze egging you on. With each gulp, you felt your body tense slightly at the unaccustomed burn that slid down your throat.

In-ho watched you intently, his dark eyes locked on you as the bottle tipped higher and higher. You were drinking far more than he expected, but he made no effort to stop you. Instead, he leaned back slightly, his lips quirking into a faint smile. Quiet satisfaction flickered in his eyes as he watched your determination to please him override your inexperience.

When you finally lowered the bottle, your lips were shiny from the liquid, your cheeks already beginning to flush, something In-ho was quick to take notice of. Whether it be your inexperience, the quickness of which you downed the Soju or the fact that you haven’t really drank or ate much prior. The alcohol had hit you harder than you anticipated, working its way through your system with worrying speed. Your head tilted back slightly as you tried to regain focus, blinking up at him with worried, glassy eyes. 

“Sir,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “I feel…so funny.”

He stepped closer, his hand moving to steady you by your waist when your knees buckled slightly. “Funny how, sweetheart?” he humored you, the concern in his tone carefully crafted.

“Dizzy,” You clung to him instinctively, your hands gripping his arm like a lifeline as you specified. “I feel lightheaded, mister Young-il. M’scared.”

“Shh,” he murmured, pulling you closer against his chest. His hand slid to your back, rubbing soothing circles as he held you steady. “It’s okay. You’re just not used to it, s’all.”

Your forehead rested against his chest, your breath uneven as you tried to make sense of the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. He tilted his head slightly, looking down at you with something twisted in his gaze, though his voice remained tender and reassuring. “Poor baby,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms. His hand stroked your hair, the sound of his words soothing you. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”

You were too drunk to notice the dark glint in his eyes or the way his smile lingered just a little too long. Too naive to realize how tightly his grip held you, as though he’d never let go.

Young-il led you to the bathroom, steadying you with a firm grip as you clung to him for balance. Every touch, every reassuring glance he gave you was planned down to the last detail, feeding into the web he’d been weaving since the moment he first laid eyes on you. You were his perfect little pawn, and now, more than ever, he could see his plan falling into place. 

When he knocked on the bathroom door, you were already bracing yourself for the usual bargaining and desperate pleading that so often accompanied requests to use the facilities. But to your surprise, the guards let you both pass without hesitation, a testament to the sway your knight in shining armor seemed to hold.

He guided you inside, shutting the door behind you with a quiet click. Leading you to the sink, he turned on the faucet, letting the cool water rush out. “Here,” he said softly, his voice calm and soothing. “Let’s wash your face. It’ll help.”

You nodded, leaning over the sink and splashing the water onto your flushed cheeks. The cold sting sent a brief jolt through you, though it did little to clear the fog in your mind. When you blinked your eyes open and straightened, you nearly jumped at the sight of him standing right behind you, close enough that you could feel his presence like a weight against your back.

Your wide-eyed gaze flicked up to the mirror. He stood there, his expression as unreadable as ever, but the intensity in his eyes made your stomach twist. Despite yourself, you wiped your face with your sleeve and offered him a sheepish smile.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked, stepping closer. His hand brushed your damp hair back from your face, the gesture tender in a way that made your breath hitch.

“Good,” you mumbled, though the truth was far from it. The alcohol swirled in your system, leaving you dizzier than before. But the way he touched you, the way he looked at you, it sent a warmth through your chest that was impossible to ignore.

“Yeah?” he hummed, his tone low and velvety, each syllable wrapping around you like a shackle. You hadn’t even noticed how close he’d gotten until now, his chest pressing lightly against your back.

Your breath hitched as something firm brushed against you from behind, and you let out a small, involuntary whimper. “Sir Young-il…?”

“In-ho,” he rasped, cutting you off. “My real name, it’s In-ho.” His voice had dropped even lower, and there was something raw and possessive in the way he said it. You blinked, confused, his real name rolling off your tongue before you could even think twice to question him.

“In-ho,” you repeated softly, as if testing the weight of it. “What’s going on?”

His lips curved into a faint smile, his hands settling firmly on your waist. “Don’t worry, baby,” he whispered, his eyes meeting yours through the mirror. “I’ll take good care of you. You trust me, don’t you?”

You nodded too quickly, too eagerly, the alcohol and your long-brewing crush on him clouding your better judgment. “I trust you,” you slurred, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his grip tightening slightly as he trailed his fingers along your waist, his touch deliberate and possessive.

He leaned in, closing the already small gap between you two as his lips found yours in a kiss—the first one you’d ever shared. Admittedly, it wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined it to unfold. You pictured your first kiss with a high school crush, maybe some boy your age who’d take you out on an innocent date. But all those dreams faded the moment you met In-ho, and now, all dreams you had were consumed by him.

You pressed against him, letting him take control as his kiss deepened, hungry and intense, like a man starved for more. You followed his lead instinctively, trusting him—because you always knew, deep down, he knew what was best. So when he raised his fingers to your lips, you hesitated for only a moment before parting them, allowing him to slip two fingers inside. His dark eyes gleamed as you sucked obediently, your cheeks flushing deeper under his watchful gaze. A low, guttural sound escaped his throat, and his breathing grew heavier.

Pulling his fingers away, he wasted no time in hooking them into the waistband of your sweatpants, tugging them down in one hasty motion. His lips found the curve of your jaw, trailing kisses up to your ear as his right hand skimmed the sensitive skin of your neck.

You grabbed his wrist suddenly, your touch light and hesitant. “Wait, In-ho—” you murmured, your voice trembling with embarrassment. His dark eyes met yours in the mirror, his expression softening ever so slightly.

“I… I’ve never done anything like this before,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He wasn’t surprised; he had suspected as much. But hearing it from you, seeing the vulnerability in your gaze—only stoked the fire burning within him.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice deceptively gentle, though there was an unmistakable tension in his tone.

You shook your head quickly, biting your lip. “I trust you. Just… be gentle. Please.” 

He smiled at that, a flicker of something darker hidden beneath the curve of his lips. “Of course,” he murmured, his hands resuming their slow exploration. But in his mind, he knew the truth: restraint was never his strong suit. Especially when it came to you. 

And with you—so soft, so eager, so completely his, he doubted he could hold himself back for long.

His fingers, still slick with your saliva, trailed down to your entrance, brushing over it with deliberate precision. The touch made you jolt, a shiver running up your spine as you gasped. In-ho groaned low in his throat, his eyes fixed on your reflection in the mirror. “Fucking dripping,” he mused, his voice a sinful rasp. Slowly, he slid a finger inside, the intrusion making your thighs instinctively part.

A soft moan escaped your lips as he pressed deeper, his touch firm but unhurried. This wasn’t the first time you’d felt something like this, but the last time had been your own doing—fumbling, desperate, and entirely unremarkable. That had been just days ago, tucked away in one of these very bathroom stalls, shamefully thinking of him. Now, with his hands where yours had been, the stark difference had you feeling light-headed. 

His fingers were thicker, rougher, impossibly skilled. The sensation left you trembling, your legs threatening to give out as he worked you open. His other arm snaked around your upper chest, holding you close, his grip firm yet possessive. The position bordered on a chokehold, but instead of fear, it only sent another wave of heat coursing through you.

Your breath hitched as a soft, broken “Ohmygod,” fell from your lips. He didn’t pause, didn’t falter. His finger curled just right, hitting a spot that made you see stars. Your hands gripped on In-ho’s forearm, knuckles white as you bit down hard on your lower lip, trying and failing to stifle your moans.

“You okay, sweetheart?” His voice was like velvet, roughened by desire. He pressed a kiss into the crook of your neck. His other hand released its hold on your chest as it moved lower, settling on the curve of your ass. He squeezed firmly, eliciting a high-pitched mewl from you.

You nodded weakly, barely able to form words. “Uh-huh… feels so good, sir,”

That made him chuckle, a deep, dark sound that reverberated through your body. The honorific sent a thrill down his spine, his cock straining against the confines of his sweatpants.

“You’re ready,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he pulled back just enough to tug his waistband down. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes wide as you took him in, the sight was intimidating, your head reeling. 

"In-ho, I–I don’t think I can take that." Your voice faltered, a hint of shame creeping into your words. He laughed, a sound so familiar it sent a chill down your spine. It was the kind of hearty laugh you'd grown so used to hearing from him. But now, there was something different—something darker layered beneath it, like a cruel mockery. "Course you can, angel," he said, his tone smooth but laced with an unsettling edge. "I know you can. Let me take care of you."

“H-Here? Like this?” you asked, your voice small and unsure, referring to the state he had you in—bent over the sink and in front of the mirror. utterly at his mercy.

He leaned in, his hand gripping your chin and forcing your gaze back at your reflection. “Right here,” he confirmed, his voice a low growl. Want you to watch yourself while I’m fucking you open.”

The vulgarity of his words sent a shiver through you, your body instinctively arching for him. You nodded, too dazed and drunk to do anything else, and he didn’t waste another second.

He slid inside slowly, the stretch making you cry out and grip the sink tighter. The initial sting was sharp, but it quickly gave way to something deeper, something so intense it left you gasping. Your legs wobbled beneath you, and you leaned harder against the sink for support.

“In-ho… In-ho,” you whimpered, his name falling from your lips like a chant. “Sir… I— I feel you in my stomach.”

The confession had him groaning, a sound so guttural it made your knees weak. “Yeah? Fuck, baby.” He babbled as he moved closer, his body pressing against yours as his hand trailed down with deliberate slowness. When his palm flattened against your stomach, his fingers brushing over the faint outline of him inside you, your breath hitched. 

“Feel that?” he murmured, his composure slipping as he began to move. His hips snapped against yours, each thrust deliberate and punishing. You nodded frantically, a whimper escaping as he pressed down, sending a shockwave through your body. “In-ho, nngh!—“ 

You were completely out of it, your thoughts a tangled haze, your body slack and pliant in his hands. The alcohol coursing through your veins had stripped away every layer of hesitation, leaving you wide open to his manipulations. And In-ho, oh, he reveled in it. The way your voice slurred when you called his name, the way your movements were unsteady, dependent on him for every step and touch—it all fueled his sick delight. You were better than he could’ve ever imagined. 

As he pulled you closer, pressing into you from behind, your gaze flicked to the bathroom door, a flicker of worry breaking through your drunken stupor. “In-ho…” you mewled, voice soft as you felt your body jerk with each rough thrust he made.. “What if–ah!—someone walks in?”

He paused, his hands resting possessively on your hips, a smile ghosting across his lips. “Don’t worry about that,” he said, his voice low and soothing, though there was an unmistakable edge of amusement in his tone. “The guards won’t come.” His confidence sent a shiver through you, but you weren’t entirely convinced. “But… but what if another player—”

“No one’s going to interrupt us,” he said firmly, his dark eyes boring into yours before you could finish your sentence. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze in the mirror. “You’re with me. They wouldn’t dare.”

Something about the absolute certainty, the power in his voice—had your anxiety ebbing away, replaced by a strange sense of safety. You nodded slowly, leaning into his touch, your inhibitions melting once again under his spell.

“You trust me, don’t you, sweetheart?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Mmhm,” You squeaked out through laboured breaths. 

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, his hands sliding down to grip your waist, pulling you back against him. He watched your reflection as his fingers dug into your soft flesh, relishing the way you gasped and arched into his touch.

Your head lolled slightly, your body swaying under his hold. “Mmmh…I feel so dizzy,” you slurred, your voice barely above a whisper.

In-ho chuckled darkly, his hands moving to steady you. “That’s just the soju, sweetheart,” he said, though he didn’t bother hiding the smirk on his face. “You’re doing so well for me.”

He loved seeing you like this. Drunk, vulnerable, completely at his mercy. Every soft whimper, every stumble, every little movement that showed how completely you relied on him only fueled his desire. You were his, whether you realized it or not.

As his fingers grazed your skin, he couldn’t resist pushing you further, testing your reactions as he pushed your buttons. “You know,” he murmured, his lips ghosting along the curve of your neck, “Y’look so pretty like this. All fucked out and needy. Just for me.”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, pressed against him. “Y-you think so?”

“I know so,” he replied, his voice a velvety purr. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming. “Just look at yourself, baby. See how perfect you are for me?”

Your hazy eyes flicked to the mirror, taking in the sight of the two of you. His dark, piercing gaze met yours, his expression raw and predatory. The way he looked at you—it was almost too much. Your cheeks burned, and you averted your eyes, biting your lip.

He wasn’t having that. His hand left your waist, fingers gently gripping your chin and turning your face back toward the mirror. “No,” he said firmly. “I want you to watch. Watch yourself while I take care of you.”

The authority in his voice sent a thrill through you, your body trembling as you nodded weakly. “O-okay—ah, fuck!”

“Atta girl,” he chuckled, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.

As his hands roamed lower, teasing and exploring, you couldn’t help the soft, breathless moans that spilled from your lips. Every touch, every word, every look from him pulled you deeper into the fog of your drunken desire, leaving you utterly helpless in his grasp.

And In-ho? He wouldn’t have it any other way.

The room filled with the lewd sounds of skin meeting skin, your muffled cries, and his filthy murmurs. “Thaat’s it, there’s my pretty girl.” His hand tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back, his lips brushing against your ear. “Fucking take it. Just like that.”

Every thrust sent you higher, the alcohol in your system amplifying every sensation, every nerve alight with pleasure. Your mind was fogged, the world around you turning into nothing but a senseless blur. And yet, you felt every little sensation In-ho fed you, each rough snap of his hips driving you closer and closer to the edge.

You felt your climax building, overwhelming and unstoppable. Your eyes fluttered shut, ready to let go—but his hand suddenly cupped your cheek, a sharp slap bringing you back.

“I told you,” he growled, his voice authoritative. “None of that. You keep your eyes on me when I fill you up. Understand?”

You nodded frantically, gasping as you forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze once again through the mirror—the sight was enough to send you over the edge. Your release hit you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as you cried out his name.

The sight of you coming undone beneath him was his undoing. With a few more erratic thrusts, he followed, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside you. A deep groan tore from his chest, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he rode out his high.

The room fell into silence, save for the sound of your labored breathing. In-ho steadied you, his hands gentle now as he helped you stand. He brushed your hair back, pressing soft kisses to your temple.

“If we get out of here alive…” A sheepish smile spread across your face, “Let’s drink again sometime?”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “When we get out,” he corrected, his tone laced with quiet determination. He kissed you once more, sealing the promise. And he meant it. If it meant keeping you by his side, he’d kill every last player in the game with his bare hands.

[ruewritesoccasionally]

The Reunion Pt.2 | Aaron Pierre

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.4K

Chapter summary: Moving like the soulmates they are, Aaron's conversation with Marcus mirrors YNs with some thoughts of his own but will he act on them?

a/n: this is more of a filler chapter - i'm still thinking about the direction i wanna take things in but let me know how you think things are shaping up so far

Aaron woke up to the grey light of morning peeking through his curtains, the dull ache of sleep deprivation settling behind his eyes. Last night’s reunion lingered in his mind like a persistent hum, replaying moments he hadn’t asked to remember. He threw an arm over his eyes and sighed deeply, as if he could exhale the weight pressing against his chest.

He had managed to keep his composure the entire evening, but it was moments like these, alone in his flat with nothing but his thoughts for company, that the cracks began to show. He’d watched YN all night—not in an obvious way, but enough to catch the moments that mattered. The way she threw her head back when she laughed. The way her fingers lightly brushed her date’s arm as she introduced him. Trey. Of course, his name had to be Trey. Aaron had greeted the man with a handshake and a polite smile, but every fibre of his being had tensed as he’d watched YN’s hand rest comfortably in his.

It wasn’t jealousy—at least, not in the traditional sense. Aaron wasn’t the type to covet what didn’t belong to him. It was something deeper. A quiet frustration. A longing he couldn’t quite articulate. He’d seen YN with other men before, celebrated her happiness even when it wasn’t with him. But no matter who she dated, no matter how happy she looked, there was always this quiet, nagging thought in the back of his mind: It should’ve been me. Not because he thought he deserved her more than anyone else, but because he knew her. Knew her better than they ever could.

Aaron sat up in bed, rubbing a hand over his face before reaching for his phone. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb hovering over YN’s contact. He tapped it, not to call, but to look at the photo he’d saved. It was from a trip their friend group had taken to the coast a few years back. She was laughing, the sunlight catching her face just right. It was his favourite picture of her, one she’d never know he held onto so tightly.

A notification popped up on his screen, breaking him out of his reverie. It was a message from Marcus.

Marcus: “Coffee? You look like you’ll need it.”

Aaron smirked, shaking his head before typing out a quick reply.

Aaron: “On my way.”

At the café, Marcus was already seated at their usual table, a cup of black coffee in front of him. Aaron slid into the seat across from him, ordering his own drink with a nod to the server.

“You look rough,” Marcus said, leaning back in his chair with a knowing smirk.

Aaron chuckled dryly. “Good to see you too, bro.”

Marcus waited until Aaron had taken a sip of his coffee before speaking again. “So, how long are you going to keep this up?”

Aaron frowned. “Keep what up?”

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “You know what I’m talking about. YN.”

Aaron leaned back, letting out a long breath. “There’s nothing to keep up, Marcus. She’s with Trey now.”

“Oh, come on,” Marcus said, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been circling her for years. Don’t act like you don’t feel something.”

Aaron stared into his coffee, his jaw tightening. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is, but you’re making it harder than it needs to be.” Marcus leaned forward, his tone softening. “Bro, we’ve all seen it. The way you look at her. The way she looks at you. Everyone’s rooting for you two, even if we stopped saying it out loud. But if you don’t make a move soon, you’re going to watch her settle with someone else. And you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

Aaron’s chest tightened at the thought. The idea of YN with someone else, not just dating but settling, was a punch to the gut. But it wasn’t just fear holding him back. It was the weight of their history. They’d seen each other through everything—the highs, the lows, the in-betweens. They’d celebrated each other’s wins, mourned each other’s losses, and shared countless memories. How do you risk all of that for the chance at something more?

“What if it goes wrong?” Aaron finally said, his voice quieter now. “What if I ruin everything?”

“What if it goes right?” Marcus countered. “What if she’s waiting for you to make the first move? You’re a smart guy, Aaron, but you’re overthinking this. Just talk to her.”

Aaron sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not just about me. She’s with Trey now. I can’t just step in and—”

“And what? Tell her how you feel? Bro, she deserves to know the truth, doesn’t she?”

Aaron didn’t respond right away. He stared out the window, watching the people passing by. He wanted to believe Marcus was right. That there was still a chance. But the fear of losing her, of losing everything they’d built, was a heavy weight to bear.

“I’ll think about it,” Aaron finally said.

Marcus shook his head with a small laugh. “You’ve been thinking about it for years. Maybe it’s time to do something.”

Later that night, Aaron sat in his living room, the silence almost deafening. He leaned back in his chair, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips as memories flickered through his mind. He’d been there when she’d landed her first job straight out of university, the way she’d screamed and danced around the room when the offer came through. He remembered the late nights helping her prepare for interviews, quizzing her with mock questions, and watching her confidence bloom. He’d celebrated her wins like they were his own, the pride swelling in his chest as if her success was a reflection of his own. He even remembered the celebratory dinner he’d taken her out for when she got her first raise—how the dim lighting and easy conversation made it feel more like a date than a platonic outing. He’d laughed off the waiter’s assumption that they were a couple, but the warmth in her cheeks and the way she avoided his eyes for the rest of the night stayed with him longer than he cared to admit.

But she’d been there for him too. She was there when his grandmother passed, holding him through the quiet devastation that followed. She never pushed him to talk, never forced him to share more than he could handle—she was just there, her presence steady, like an anchor when he felt adrift. It was always the little things she did, the subtle acts of care that left an impression—showing up with food when he couldn’t bring himself to eat, sending texts just to check in, or simply sitting beside him in silence until he was ready to speak.

He swallowed hard, the weight of those memories pressing against his chest. How many times had he wished she was more than his best friend? How many nights had he lain awake, replaying moments when he could have said something, done something—anything—to shift the trajectory of what they were? But every time, the fear of losing her, of tarnishing the purity of what they had, kept him silent. He knew her inside out, her quirks and dreams, the way her brow furrowed when she was deep in thought, the laugh she reserved for things that truly delighted her. And yet, knowing her so well only made it harder. How could he risk ruining something so irreplaceable?

And then there was the nagging thought he could never quite shake: if they were so perfect on paper, why hadn’t they collided in real life? Maybe it was fate, or maybe they were cowards. Either way, it left him aching with the question that lingered every time he saw her: “What if?”

He picked up his phone, scrolling through his messages until he found YN’s name. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, words forming and dissolving in his mind. He wanted to say something, anything, but the courage wouldn’t come.

Instead, he opened their chat history, scrolling through old messages. Some were funny, others mundane, but all of them carried the weight of their bond. He stopped at a message she’d sent a few months ago: “Thanks for always being there, Aaron. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He closed his eyes, the ache in his chest growing heavier. He didn’t know what he’d do without her either. But for now, all he could do was wait—and hope that one day, the timing would finally be right.

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[marie-golds-bleeding-ink]

D10 and Co.

I forgot to add Diesel, but I’ll add him next time.

[lilreidgirl]

Do I wanna know?

Summary: You and Drew are best friends, but you want more. What happens when you get invited to a day out on Drew’s friend’s yacht and get more?

Warnings: MDNI(18+), fem!reader, thigh riding, daddy kink, nicknames used (princess, baby, little lady, good girl…), kissing, alcohol (beer), swearing, no use of (y/n), reader wears a skirt, shy!reader, pining amongst friends, English is not my first language, if I forgot anything; please let me know!!

WC: ~2.4k (no idea how that happened)

A/N: I got inspired by this photo so I wrote this at like 2 am and I’m posting it now at 5 am, this is a mess, gn my loves (NOT PROOF READ, SORRY) (also this is my first fic about Drew so yeah)

When your best friend, Drew Starkey, invited you to a small get together on his friend’s yacht, you were more than willing to go. You and him had been friends since years, getting to know each other through mutual friends and suddenly you were eating take out with a b-list celebrity every other night.

You twirled around in front of your full body sized mirror, watching with amusement as your skirt twirls with you, the ruffles bouncing as they fluttered in the wind.

“Wow. Really doesn’t take much to get a smile on that pretty little face of yours, huh?” Drew chuckled as he watched you spin around.

Startled by his voice you stopped your little turns, looking at him with a small playful glare when the dizzy fog finally cleared from your vision.

“I’m just a happy person. You should try it sometime” you shot back, but you knew it was no use. Drew was great at talking, arguing, whatever. He was great with people in a way you just couldn’t figure out for yourself.

But honestly? You were fine just standing on the sidelines watching him do his thing, waiting for him to abandon that and come talk to you for a bit.

You had been fine with it.

Lately every time he laughed and grinned at one of your sarcastic comments and every time he stared at you like he was a theoretical physicist and you had the answers to string theory, you couldn’t help but want more. Couldn’t help but want that “best friend” status to be upgraded to “girlfriend”. Hell, you even dreamt of being called his wife.

For now though, you were just going to try and enjoy the day on a luxurious boat.

Soon you found yourselves in the car. You clicked on random songs on your phone and sand along to the “wait, this is the best part, shut up”’s before yet again changing the song as Drew drove to the harbour, admiring the way you seemed so enthralled by the different songs and music.

“Would love to continue listening to your big world tour concert, little lady, but we’re here,” he announced once he’d gotten the car carefully parked.

Excitedly, you jumped out of Drew’s car, watching as he did the same before you both made your way closer to the water where many ships floated atop the sea.

At the same time, you both spotted Drew’s group of friends, waving at them as they saw you two as well.

You’d gotten to know them a bit but the amount of group hangouts you attended, didn’t really allow you to form a strong bond to any of Drew’s friends.

What can you say?

You’re just not a people person.

You’re a person person.

A Drew person.

You squashed the ridiculous thought, giggling it off before you checked that your outfit was neatly in order.

Upon seeing you inspecting your clothes, Drew leaned down and whispered in your ear, his breath tantalizingly brushed against your ear and neck as he spoke, “You look amazing, baby, don’t worry.”

As you reached the boat, the smile you had shared for a few enchanting seconds came to a sudden end.

“Hey, Drew!” Various different voices greeted the both of you and you both returned the favour with just as much enthusiasm.

One of the guys, the one whose yacht it was presumably, invited everyone aboard.

Your eyes flitted to everything around you, spotting a few seats, some complicated looking boat equipment and random day-to-day fun stuff lying around.

The smell of fish and sea breeze filled the air and your nostrils, but that scent quickly evaporated when Drew stepped next to you, finally finished with catching up with his friend and was now holding out a beer bottle for you to take. His cologne took over, overwhelming your senses. Something you were definitely not complaining about.

You accepted the beer from him, taking a sip before handing it back to him and watching as he repeated your action of drinking from the bottle.

Your gaze drifted to his Adam’s apple as it bobs when he took gulps of the alcoholic drink. He lowered the glass container from his lips, putting his strong bicep right in your line of sight.

As embarrassing as it is to admit you could have almost moaned from just looking at his muscly arm.

He must have taken off his shirt sometime between helping you up the steps on the side of the ship, his hand securely wrapped around your thigh to keep you from falling, and when he seemingly appeared behind you as you admired your surroundings.

Then your eyes found his chest, strong pecs priding over his abs that seemed carved from the very marble that Michelangelo had used to sculpt David, each muscle defined with an almost perfect precision to it.

Just before you could take a good look at his black swim shorts hanging off his hips and hugging his beefy thighs, his voice called your name.

“Hey, come on, picture time,” he reiterated what he had said when you were still zoned out.

“Oh. Okay,” Throwing your thoughts back into reality, you watched as everyone made their way over to the discussed upon place where the photo would be taken.

“Who wants to set the timer?” A girl, who you’d forgotten the name of, asked.

Something with an F? L? A? Who cares.

“Not it!” Was called by everyone but you, your face quickly morphing from a surprised look of “who the hell still uses ‘not it’?” to an accepting face that you were in fact “it”.

The girls and boys all took their places on the netting of the boat. The 5 people in front of you got ready to pose for the group photo.

Efficiently, you adjusted the tripod so that the camera of the phone pointed perfectly towards the centre of everyone.

You bent down, looking at the screen of the mobile. You saw Drew depicted by many pixels, your thighs clenching when he moved his hips up to readjust his position on the midnight blue blanket that lay sprawled over the rough nylon net.

Fuck, he was perfect.

Of course, you fixed your hair one last time before pressing the white button on the right side of the device, starting the 10 second countdown until the picture.

Swiftly, you made your way around the tripod, and plopped down onto the free space between a dark haired guy, you’ve come to know as Matthew, and Drew. You smiled sweetly at the round circles on the back of the phone as Drew slung an arm around your shoulders.

Once the photo was taken, everyone scattered and the usual chatter was back. You ran up to the phone and you looked at the image.

Well fuck.

Drew looked absolutely freaking ethereal.

His sitting in a reclined position with one leg bent and the other stretched out, manspreading, almost made you go feral. He was smiling widely toward the camera, his impossibly bright grin attracting all the attention in the photo.

His body looked like a dream. For a moment, you thought maybe you were dreaming, if you were you would hold onto the memory of the photo, even if it was just a dream, for the rest of your life.

God, pining for your hot best friend made you sound so so pathetic.

The thought that what you were experiencing was just a dream was snapped in two like a twig when Drew came up from behind you and flicked your bare back.

“Ouch!” You exclaimed, a frown forming on your face.

“‘M sorry, princess,” he swung his arms over your shoulders, holding on to you from behind like a koala would his mother, peering at the screen in your hands.

“Did it turn out good?” He asked casually, acting as if he didn’t see how your face was blushing an awfully deep shade of red and don’t even start to think that he missed the way you were obviously turned on.

“Yup,” you answered curtly, ducking down to be released of any physical contact with him, because you felt as if you would melt if he touched you a second longer.

“I’m um… gonna go below deck. The sun uh- it’s hitting me pretty hard right now. I have a headache,” you lied, coming up with some excuse to just get yourself somewhere where you can have your alone time.

“O…kay…” He didn’t seem convinced but that wasn’t for you to deal with in that moment. You made your way down the stairs leading below the deck of the ship, the room was nice and cozy.

With a sigh of relief you sat down on a wooden bench near the kitchen and slipped your phone out of your purse.

After a few minutes of mindlessly scrolling through various social media apps you heard footsteps nearing you, causing you to look up.

Your eyes met none other than Drew Starkey himself.

“On your phone when you have a headache? Really?” He asked unamused. “You lyin’ about the headache or you just stupid?”

“Stupid…?” you offered in a quiet meek voice.

“C’mon, sweetheart, what’s the problem, huh? You don’t like my friends or something?” He questioned as he sat himself down next to you on the oak plank.

“No, no, they’re great, I just…” You really should have been able to come up with something to say but the way his forearm was flexing as it rested on his thigh distracted you.

A smirk grew on Drew’s face. “No yeah, I uh-“ he chucked as he shook his head in what looked like slight disbelief, “I know.”

Unsure of the true meaning behind his comment you averted your eyes to the floor, focusing on the swaying of the boat on the water instead of Drew’s piercing blue eyes staring intently at you.

He leaned back with a sigh, his legs spreading wider and his arm sneaking behind your back and around your waist. “You’re kind of ridiculous, you know that?”

All you could do was nod which earned you yet another laugh from Drew.

Just as you were about to persuade yourself to actually speak, you were pulled onto Drew’s lap by his arm, his hands quickly settling you on his thighs.

“Wha-“

“I know, princess,” he cooed.

You know you should have felt at least slightly degraded or mad because of his tone but the only thing it did, was make you want to clench your thighs together. Which of course wasn’t possible because each of your legs rested on different sides of Drew.

“You look so pretty today, baby,” he said, tucking some loose strands of hair behind your ear before moving his face down to your neck and pressing soft, fleeting, sensational kisses to the side of your collar.

Your breathing became panted and you unintentionally slowly rubbed your core along the material of his pitch black swim trunks.

“Not even a thank you?” He murmured teasingly as his kisses walked over to the area right under your ear and his large hands gripped your hips harshly, stopping you from any further movement.

“Th- thank you…” You whispered, your tone dipped and coated in your lust and arousal.

You felt a small nip on your throat that made you let out a small “Ah-!”

“Thank you…?” He muttered expectantly.

“Sir?” You tried, getting your confirmation of that being the wrong answer when a more harsh bite was left just under your jawline.

“Daddy..” you practically moaned out, the small pleasure that you got from the bites making you rut against Drew’s strong hold on your body.

“Good girl…” he praised, his face finally coming up to meet yours, kissing you softly but also at the same time with an unforeseeable force.

His fingers stopped drilling into the skin over your hipbones, letting you push your aching core down onto his covered thigh.

He broke the kiss, his plump lips and hot breath trailing over your cheek as you both gasped from air.

His hand roughly grabbed the back of your head, wrapping his fingers around your messy hair, holding you tight against him.

Immediately after, his other hand took hold of your hip again, helping you grind down on his swim pants.

“That’s right, baby, use daddy’s leg,” he breathed out heavily.

“Such,” he pressed a sloppy kiss to your jawline, “a,” another kiss was placed on the corner of your mouth, “good,” he said before pecking your lips, “girl,” he murmured into your mouth before shoving his tongue down your throat.

The press of his thigh onto your bikini bottom made a perfect friction emerge against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

“What about-“ you started.

“I locked the door, sweetheart, no worries.”

The way he basically read your mind made you feel even more turned on.

Your folds rubbed back and forth in your

soaking wet swim bottoms as you gripped Drew’s shoulders tightly, eyes squeezed shut as he continued to spew out praise after praise to you.

Suddenly a knock resounded throughout the room, a sudden halt coming to your despicable actions.

“Hello? Anyone in here? Why is the door locked?” A female voice asked from the other side of the door.

“One second!” Drew called before returning his attention to you.

“We’ll finish this later, yeah?” All you could do was nod, still completely dazed.

He picked you up off his lap, helping you settle back into a standing position and smoothing out both of your guys’ clothes.

With a casual smile on his face he unlocked and opened the door, spouting out some excuse for the door being locked before leading you upstairs with him.

For the rest of the afternoon, you sat, with a drink in hand, watching Drew talk amongst his friends, his eyes flicking to you every once in a short while.

Once other people started leaving and the sun started setting, he walked up to you.

“Ready to leave, princess?”

“Uh-huh,” you uttered out, standing up and saying your goodbyes to everyone that still found themselves on the yacht.

As you walked down the dock, admiring the sunset, you gripped onto Drew’s arm.

“Everything okay?” He asked.

You looked up at him with an “Are you serious?” face, annoyed at his nonchalant antics.

“Gee, sorry, okay?” He chuckled.

“I’ll make you feel good soon. Don’t worry, little lady.”

@emma-e-a

[iznyangwoni]

LITTLE SECRET | spiderman!jungwon

pairing: spiderman!jungwon x fem!reader

synopsis: where the charming college heartthrob yang jungwon has a couple more secrets than you might’ve thought.

warnings: use of alcohol, cursing, suggestive

words: 6.5k

a/n: happy new year!! this took way longer than i expected, i hope you’re as obsessed with the idea of spidey jungwon as much as me hehe.

taglist: @harukayoiiiiiiizzz @ikeulove @ribbioniki @hollxe1 @shiroolikesfish @wonnie99 @lunaritex @aloloveswonie @meowwons @enlysia @wonys-won @cryjungwon @yizhoutv @engenediary @firstclassjaylee @heeseungmyman @jovibaes @ilovejungwonandhaechan @candyhere @yamagucccii @jungwonbropls @bamguetismee @wnyloves @cralessia

“Okay, fuck, marry or kill between Thor, Iron man and… Captain America, who do you choose?” You laugh hearing your friend’s nonsense. Not even a couple of drinks in and everyone is already tipsy enough to make stupid questions like that. Still, Yunah seems so proud of starting this game that you cant really blame her.

“Oh damn, that’s hard.” Yunjin says, taking a couple of minutes to think about the answer. You like night like this, Heeseung’s small apartment is perfect for your group’s gatherings, there’s not many of you anyway, and you enjoy the company of your friends and the slight bitter taste of alcohol while you play.

“I guess i’d kill Iron man, fuck thor and marry cap?” Yunjin’s answer makes both Jay and Jake stand up. “oh hell no, team iron man forever.” You laugh again, and rest your back against the window, drink in your hands. There’s something so comforting about these little things that you cant help but be happy even hearing them get into stupid arguments like that. “Whatever! Whatever, Y/n, what do you think?”

You raise your eyebrows, not expecting to be the next one. You raise your eyes to the ceiling, trying your best to think about the options and the words to say to not let anyone jump at you. “Well, i guess i’d marry Thor? Fuck Iron man and kill Captain America.” “Wow. You’re a disappointment, just as i thought.” You roll your eyes jokingly before taking another sip out of your drink, a smirk on your lips while once again everyone starts to argue about team cap or team iron man.

You dont join in on that, Jake is loud enough to compensate for it, and to be completely honest, the alcohol does makes you too dizzy to keep up. You look around, mostly paying attention to the beanbag where Yunah is sitting on, since you want to steal that so damn bad. Yunjin, Jay and Jake are all standing up, hands moving and their voices getting higher each time someone says something even more stupid. Heeseung should be in the kitchen with Jungwon, probably making more drinks, even if we already had way too many.

Speaking of which, you notice Jungwon coming in the living room, a little smile on his lips as he hears the conversation, a tray full of snacks and drinks in his hand. He puts it down on the coffee table and your eyes meet for a single second, you smile at him, as if thanking him for the snacks. “What about spiderman?” He asks the group, and everyone is silent at that, all the attention towards the blonde boy.

You barely register what he says, too focused on looking at him and admiring him to really pay attention. How long have you had a crush on him? Technically, its only been a couple of years, but because of the blip you do really feel like he’s had you in a chokehold for centuries. And ever since he dyed his hair blonde you cant really stop looking at him, he looks ethereal, he looks like a doll, and from this side you can clearly see the perfect outline of his nose and-

“Y/n? Earth calls y/n are you here?” You blink a couple of times, your ears probably becoming red at the realization that everyone in the room saw you staring at Jungwon so much you couldn’t even hear what they said. “Yes? What? I’m sorry I- Yeah, you were saying?” This is embarrassing, but its not like its the first time this happens either. “We were talking about spiderman, and you’re the only one who saw him, so what do you think of him?”

You furrow your brows, trying to recall the last time you saw the hero they’re talking about. Its not like you talked to him, but if it wasnt for spiderman, a whole house would’ve collapsed on you and you surely wouldn’t be here to tell this story again. Its been a couple of months since that accident, and you can only remember the feeling of his broad shoulders covering you and that familiar scent that you still haven’t been able to connect to something. “He’s… cool i guess? I’d still choose Thor over him though.”

Jungwon laughs at your words and looks at your way before sitting on the couch, and thats enough to make your heart flutter again. You try to not look too long, not wanting to repeat that embarrassing moment just a second ago, but your chest really is about to explode. “I guess its hard to beat a god, uh?” You shrug your shoulders, to be completely fair, you’re not a fan of heroes as much as your friends are so all of this talk to you is just boring talk.

Later into the night you’re sitting on Heeseung’s bed, your back on the headboard. The apartment isnt too big, he does indeed have his bed in the living room, but to you that’s what makes it cozy. Jay is sleeping on the beanbag, Jake and Heeseung are playing some kind of game you dont know meanwhile Yunah and Yunjin left not too long ago, the only reason you’re still here is because Jay is supposed to be your ride home, but you dont know how possible that’s going to be now.

Jungwon notices you and sits next to you with his usual smile, a little too close. Your shoulders brush, making you stiffen for a second. You have to remind yourself that Jungwon and you have been friends long before you developed this absurd crush on him, he’s easy to talk to, there’s no reason to get so nervous around him, and so you relax, just a little. “So… you dont like spiderman?” You giggle at that, lately Jungwon has been obsessed with that guy, he keeps bringing him up, as if he knows him personally.

“That’s not what I said.” You turn your head just to look at him, regretting it almost immediately. He’s really close and you didn’t even realize how you’re basically whispering, as if the other three can even hear you. “Yeah but you still choose Thor! Isnt he like… a thousand years old?” You look at him with your eyebrows raised, you can smell the littlest tint of alcohol in him, he doesn't look drunk, but he’s definitely tipsy enough to continue this conversation.

“Jungwon, if I didn’t know you, I would think you either have a crush on spiderman or you’re trying to set me up with him.” He laughs at your words, and you can't help but smile even more, your heart fluttering looking at his face, the way dimples show up on his cheeks and his chuckles are so crystal clear in your head. “Eh, maybe you just don't know me enough.” You grimace at that, your nose scrunching up, making him smile again.

To be completely honest, it does feel like that sometimes. You and Jungwon have been friends for a while, but lately… He’s been acting weird, as if something happened to him that transformed him into a completely different person, or maybe he just has more secrets than you think. You look at Jay, still soundly sleeping on the beanbag. Its so late into the night, and you do have a couple of projects to work on tomorrow, so you better walk back home if you want to be productive.

You get up and start picking your things up; Jungwon furrows his brows at that, before putting two and two together and realizing that you’re going home. “Hey. Isnt Jay your ride home?” You shrug, you really dont have time to wait for him to wake and sober up. “I dont live too far, i’ll just walk back home.” “I’ll go with you.” You raise your head at that, your heart beating so hard it might explode any minute. Did Yang Jungwon just offer to walk you home?

“There’s really no need to-“ But before you can even finish your sentence, Jungwon is putting his coat on and your cheeks become red, this is really happening. “Its three in the morning; i’m not letting you go alone.” You have to bite your inner cheeks to not smile too hard. You just nod at him and then finally get ready to go, you say bye to Heeseung and Jake before walking out.

You totally get why Jungwon is so well liked; he’s kind, funny, caring, and so handsome. It’d be weird not to. He walks on your right, as if to keep you protected from the few cars strolling around at this hour, and he’s so close to you that your shoulders and hands keep brushing against each other’s. It's cold outside, being January, and what you’re wearing isn't doing much to help you, but he’s already doing a lot, so you can't find it in yourself to ask him for his jacket.

Your house isnt too far, you had simply asked Jay because you know better than walk back home alone and drunk at night, and you’re glad Jungwon thinks the same as you. “I’m glad you’re back.” You say, getting surprised at your own words. Jungwon had been away for that Stark project for geniuses or whatever that was, and you could totally feel his absence. “I wasnt gone for long, though.”

You giggle quietly, definitely embarrassed now. “Guess i just like having you around then.” He looks at you as he smiles. Yunah and Yunjin have been telling you for weeks, they think that Jungwon might reciprocate your crush, but you’re not too sure about it. Him staying for so long during hangouts is a rare occasion, usually he finds some excuse to leave early or he just doesnt show up at all.

You reach your house and stop right in front of your door, Jungwon looks at you while you search for your keys inside your bag. You giggle when you find them, embarrassed by how long that took and, before opening the entrance, you look at him again, a gulp in your throat. You hesitate, your fingers tightening around the key in your hand. Should you just ask him to come in? Would that be too bold or… you know what, fuck it.

“Do you… want to come in? Its late and you live pretty far..” You bite your lips, hoping that doesnt sound too straightforward. Does it sound like you’re begging him to stay? Jungwon eyes seem to light up for a second, he’s about to speak when he suddenly stops, as if distracted by something. He looks at you again, this time he seems guilty. “I- I’d love that Y/n but i really have to go now..”

Your mouth opens to form a little ‘o,’ but you try to hide the disappointment with a smile on your face, you nervously put a strand of hair behind your ear, and the more you look at him the more he looks like he’s in a rush. Oh, he must really hate your idea. “Yeah! No, of course, sure! You must have a lot of things to do at 3 AM." You want to slap yourself at your own words. He gets closer to you and for a second you think he’s about to kiss you or hug you, but instead he just opens the door for you. “Go inside, its getting cold.”

As if the disappointment and embarrassment from last night wasnt enough, its like luck wasnt on your side either. You just wanted to hide and never look at Jungwon in the face ever again after yesterday, but of course the universe had another plan. You look down as the professor tells you that you have to find a tutor for maths and physics if you want to pass his exam. “Honestly, Y/n. This exam is really important for your career, i can help you find a good tutor like…” The professor looks behind you and points his finger towards a student, and you dont really have the courage to look back and see who it is.

“Oh! perfect timing. Come here, Jungwon!” Your eyes widen when you hear that name and you turn to look at the guy. Jungwon walks towards you and the professor with a gentle smile on his face, his hair is a bit of a mess and you notice he’s not wearing his backpack. You furrow your brows, he looks like he just finished a marathon. “Jungwon is the best of the class, i’m sure he can help you, right?”

Jungwon looks confused now, the professor gets next to him and pats his back, you honestly just want to hide, he doesnt look too happy with the idea of being your tutor and you just hope that the reason is not because of you trying to flirt with him last night. Before he can say no, you jump into the discussion. “I- I’m sure Jungwon is busy with that Stark stuff, i can find someone else its really not a big deal.”

“No! No i can do it! I can be your tutor, yeah..” This is awkward, definitely more than you could’ve imagined. You and Jungwon just look at each other and the tension in the room is so dense that you could probably cut it with a knife. The professor laughs and pats both your and Jungwon’s back lightly. “Sure, you figure it out! Just make sure you’re ready for the exam, Y/n.” And that said he takes his stuff and says bye, leaving the both of you alone in the class.

“You dont have to do it..” You say, after a couple of seconds of silence. You’re putting your things back in your bag, trying really hard to not just look too much at him, fearing of the reaction your heart might get from that. “No, no, i really want to. And honestly, there’s not really anyone better than me so..” He chuckles at his own words, but you just crack a little smile, closing your bag before looking back at him. “Let’s do at five today? in the library.”

You’re pleasantly surprised by his willingness to actually help you. You nod at his words, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, your bag on your shoulder. “Sure. Thank you, Jungwon.” He takes a couple more seconds to just look at you, and you start to feel almost self conscious at that. Maybe you got something in your hair? Something stuck on your teeth? Or even worse maybe you just smell bad and the perfume you’re wearing didn’t cover it up, or-

Before you can keep on overthinking about your appearance, Jungwon just ruffles your hair, a smile on his face as he does that and right now you can only hope and pray that your cheeks are staying a normal color, because you definitely feel hot as hell right now. “See you later, Pretty.” Pretty. He called you pretty. Wait, did he really just do that? You don’t even have the time to realize what just happened that he’s gone. Leaving you alone and on fire in this cold class.

You spend the rest of the day just waiting, and waiting, and waiting for five to come, you even got back home just to change into some cuter clothes. You dont want to make it look like you’re doing too much, its Jungwon after all, it would be weird. So a pair of wide leg jeans and a black top is cute enough. You arrive at the library five minutes early, just to make sure you can get a nice spot and take your things out before he arrives. But he doesn’t.

You know Jungwon, he does have a problem with timing, so you wait. The first fifteen minutes you dont think much of it, he’s always late after all. Then half an hour passes and you actually start to get angry, its already dark outside and you dont intend to wait for him all evening. But you do that anyway.

The initial anger transforms into worry when you overhear a couple of girls talking about how Spiderman was just seen fighting a bunch of criminals off, maybe he got involved in the fight? But thats really not something Jungwon would do. After an hour and a half of waiting you actually feel sad. He either forgot or didn’t care at this point. He didnt reply to your worried texts, nor did he call to tell you he was busy with something else.

You couldnt even concentrate on the physics book, too worried and sad to really be thinking about whatever is written there. Two hours pass, and the library is about to close so you just pack your things back and decide to walk back home, headphones in, and really, the last thing you want right now is sabrina carpenter in your ears singing about getting dicked down, but thats all your spotify wants you to listen apparently.

As if your day couldnt get worse, it starts raining, and the only thing covering you is the hood of the jacket you’re wearing, of course you left your umbrella home, you were so busy thinking about getting cute for Jungwon that you didnt even think about the important stuff. You sniffle with your nose at the thought of it, not really wanting to cry about something so stupid, but at the same time your throat is starting to hurt, and its already raining, so you might as well.

You’re close to your house when suddenly you cant feel the rain anymore, and for a second you actually think it stopped raining, but when you look up you only find an umbrella over your head. Your eyes widen in surprise, and when you turn to see who is holding it, you dont know if you want to keep crying or run as fast as you can.

Jungwon is now behind you, holding the umbrella for you while getting drenched under the rain himself. You dont know what to say, or how to react. All you know is that you feel sad and disappointed and so, so angry at him for wasting your time and making you believe that he actually cared for you enough to help for the exam.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry i swear i didn’t forget i just- i got a call from Stark for that project and I-“ Your brows are furrowed in annoyance, your head shaking and saying no as he keeps on talking and saying excuses. You’re not one to get mad easily, you’re usually pretty chill, and rarely things get under your skin, but right now you really want to just smash his head somewhere. “You could’ve called. Or replied to my dms.”

He’s panting, he must’ve run a lot, and he keeps getting wetter and wetter. Part of you wants to invite him in and give him something to dry his hair out, but you mostly want to take a bit of revenge in a way, and if its by giving him a common cold, then so be it. “We.. we cant keep our phones there, for privacy reasons- Mr. Stark doesn’t-“ “I dont give a fuck about Stark and your fuckass project!”

You manage to surprise yourself by shouting at him that way, you’re just so pissed off. It would’ve been better for the both of you if he hadn’t shown up, at least you would’ve cried yourself to sleep only to act like nothing happened, but seeing him, hearing his excuses that you’ve heard already thousands of times, whenever he missed the group hang outs or class. But this time its different.

“I told the professor you were busy, but you insisted to be my tutor anyway. This exam is so important to me but you just cant understand! Jungwon, not everyone is a damn genius like you, not everyone has fucking Tony Stark making projects and shit for him, i needed help today but you decided to just waste my time.”

Jungwon remains still, looking at you in shock, he’s never seen you this angry, he didnt even know it was possible for you to crash out this way. Suddenly his throat is dry and he doesnt know what to say, meanwhile you are fighting your own tears from falling. You feel guilty, in a way, you dont like getting mad and you definitely dont like the fact that it was Jungwon the one to see you this way. You hate it, how you cant still be fully mad at him because of how much you like him, his big dark eyes looking at you as if you just broke his heart. You take a deep breath in, and right now you dont know if you’re shaking because of the cold, your drenched clothes or from anger.

“I’m sorry.” He doesnt say anything else, and you actually wait for him to add another sentence, maybe you expect another excuse, but no. He just looks at you like a sad little kitten, and that only angers you even more. You shake your head no one last time before turning away from him and walking towards your house. You dont look back, because you know that if you did you would melt, you’d ask him to come inside and you’d say sorry to him for crashing out. And right now this is not what you need.

A couple of days later, you decided to stay in an empty classroom just so you could be able to study without having to worry about getting distracted. You’ve been ignoring Jungwon, but its not that hard when he is barely available anyway. He wasnt with your friends last night, and you havent seen him in class or anywhere else really. Last time you saw him, two days ago, you just turned on your heels and ignored him, but that was it.

You sigh, hating having to do this, the exam will be in two weeks and you still cant bring yourself to understand any of these things. You’re about to give up and smash your head on the table when the sound of notebooks falling on the chair next to you suddenly startles you.

“You were right, i acted on impulse and i’m sorry.” Jungwon is standing in front of you, he looks like he hadn’t slept well, dark circles under his gorgeous eyes that you love so much.

You dont say anything, too confused to actually react in a normal way. He’s making your heart beat so fast and the butterflies in your stomach are going crazy. “I made notes for you. I tried to keep it simple and add schemes, it took me a while, but i really wanted to help you.” Your lips press into a pout, now you really feel awful for how you treated him, this is why you like him so much. No matter how others treat him he’s always kind and gentle and god, you really fucked up, uh.

“I’m sorry for crashing out the other day.” “I deserved it.” “That’s not the point.” You sigh for what seems the ninth time today and you get up. He’s still taller than you, but what really makes you feel much smaller are his shoulders, his body is so fit and broad for him to have the face of an angel. There’s a few minutes of silence, it seems like you two always end up not saying anything for a while, just looking at each other and waiting for the other to speak. This time you decide to break it.

“I’ll offer you dinner, or coffee or a drink? if i actually pass the exam.” Jungwon’s smile gets even bigger, he likes how bold you’ve been lately, first asking him if he wanted to stay at your house, now this. If only he wasnt so busy being a damn hero, he would’ve asked you out a long time ago. “Let’s go see a movie instead, like a date.” You have to blink a couple of times to understand that, is he really asking you on a date? You look at him as if he’s talking nonsense, your lips parted in shock and you fear you might faint from how fast your heart is beating. He chuckles at your reaction. “You better pass that exam now.”

You’ve never studied so hard in your entire life. The two weeks passed so slowly, you basically closed yourself inside your house, or the library, or in the classroom, doing everything you could do to pass that exam. And so, when the day of the test finally arrives, you’re sure you can do it with your eyes closed. Well, kind of. You still dont get the highest grade, because you would’ve needed either a miracle or some sort of dark magic for that, but you still pass it.

You get out of the class, a huge smile on your lips while you walk towards the dining hall, where all your friends are waiting for you. “Oh my god i almost forgot your face!” Says Yunjin, pinching your cheeks when you sit between her and Jungwon. “Did you even eat these past weeks?” “You honestly got us worried.” “Oh my god, you guys. I was just studying its not like a supervillain kidnapped me or something.” Jungwon grimaces at your words. “Ugh, dont jinx it.”

A chuckle escapes your lips as you roll your eyes before digging in your food. Jay and Yunah are now arguing about which supervillain the world has seen would be able to kidnap you, meanwhile Jungwon is shaking his head no, trying to stop them from fantasizing about it. “I wouldn’t mind Loki i guess,” “Ew. Ew, ew, ew, ugly.” Yunjin’s reaction makes the whole table laugh.

“I’ve never met Loki..” Jungwon says, almost to himself, the others probably didnt even hear him, but you turn to look at him with a confused expression, your brows furrowed. “Well, duh. We were too young when the avengers stopped him.” The blondie just looks at you back, almost embarrassed about that sentence falling off his mind and coming out from his mouth. “Yeah… yeah i meant like, uh, yeah we were too young..” He’s acting weird, but you let that go, after all Jungwon does seem like a huge superhero nerd.

The week goes on and finally, finally, its time for your date with Jungwon. If it can even be called a date. Well, he called it a date so you assume it actually is one. Still, he did call you this time telling you he was going to be five minutes late, so you take your time walking towards the cinema.

Its been raining a lot these past few days, but you’re prepared, the white umbrella tight in your hands.

You’re just going to see a movie, but you still thought about dressing up nicely. The white dress you’re wearing might be a bit too springy, but you dont mind that. And you do have a pretty coat over it, so its fine. Your boots are perfect for the weather, and so are the thighs under them, and most importantly you feel cute.

Just as Jungwon said, he reaches you five minutes later, his breathing ragged as if he just ran. His hands behind his back but you can clearly see the flowers he’s trying to hide. He looks embarrassed, but the smile on your face makes me feel much more at ease. “I- Lets say it wasnt a good idea to get them and then run under the rain.” He says, handing them to you.

You laugh, the flowers must’ve looked pretty before he put his hands on them. They’re drenched and some of them are even missing a couple of petals, you couldnt care less about it though. He got you flowers. Yang Jungwon, the guy you’ve had a crush on for two years got you flowers, and you couldnt be happier.

“You’re always running somewhere.” You chuckle.

He links arms with you, walking towards the ticket booth. You dont even know what film you’re watching, knowing him its probably some sci-fi movie or a really old one that he always references but you dont know. “I mean, running is healthy.” “As long as you dont run away from me..” He keeps silent at your words, looking at you deeply, his eyes scanning your body and face, he always does that. “I’ll try.”

That answer leaves you in a chaos of emotions. He will try? What does that even mean? Your face must be telling that, or maybe its the way your body stiffened up. He opens his mouth to say something else, probably trying to save what he just did, but you dont even hear him. A loud noise echoed outside the cinema and you find yourself catching Jungwon’s hands out of fear.

He suddenly looks serious, his hand on your back, his brows furrowed in what seems anger and annoyance, that’s not a normal reaction if someone were to ask you. He looks around, meanwhile the other people around you are already screaming and running out of the theater, and you’re starting to get anxious too. “Jungwon we have to-“ “Take the emergency door on the left, i’ll catch up to you later.”

He lets you go, but you’re only getting more and more confused. He’s not coming with you? You shake your head no, in disbelief. You’re not leaving him here out in danger, what is he, some kind of superhero? “What? Are you out of your mind? Jungwon let’s just go..” You grab his arm and he closes his eyes for a second, getting out a deep sigh before he cups your cheeks.

“I swear, i’ll explain everything to you, but you have to go now. Just trust me and get out from that door only.” He’s not a superhero. You keep repeating yourself that, like a mantra, he cant be. He’s Jungwon, you would know if he was, he wouldnt be able to shut up about it, he’s like a twenty year old Tony Stark, there’s no way he is. But then you feel the way he’s holding you, his broad shoulders protecting you and his big hands on your face, its so familiar. And the look in his eyes is telling everything you need to know.

So you nod, hesitantly, but you do as he says. You can only hope he’s not actually who you think he is, your hands stop gripping his wrists so tightly and he gives you a gentle and reassuring smile before leaving a kiss on your cheek. “Go home, and dont take the metro. I’ll be right back.” You nod again and then you go, with your heart thumping against your chest, your head filled with dots connecting each other, and you dont know what to think.

You reach home safely, only because you did as Jungwon told you. You didnt take the metro, which happened to be involved in the fight, and you wonder how the hell did he know that would’ve happened. You sit on your bed, checking every news site, refreshing the spiderman tag on twitter every couple of seconds. You’re not 100% sure about it, maybe you’re just traumatized and insane, maybe a man protecting you reminds you of spiderman and this is just you projecting, but you cant ignore the signs.

That time at the library, he didn’t come and spiderman was fighting off somewhere at the same time, or all those times he left early or didnt come at all, all those excuses and that Stark project, is that even real? It makes sense, it makes too much sense and you feel like you will be going crazy until he comes back like he promised you.

You’re about to go downstairs and make a chamomile or something that could help you not go insane when you hear a tap on your balcony window. Jungwon is there and you waste no time opening the slide in door for him, you want to ask him a thousand questions but he just puts his finger over his lips, telling you to be quiet.

You dont know why he’s doing that, but you accomplish and close the window door behind him. You were so distracted waiting for him that you didnt even turn on the lights, and its so dark outside so you had barely noticed the mask in his hand. That mask. You take a better look at him and you feel so stupid when you notice what he’s wearing.

You dont know if you’re even surprised at this point, nor how you find the force to close the curtains and turn on one of the little lights in your room. He slides down the wall, he looks tired, and hurt, but he’s still looking at you with that same cocky vibe he always has. “You don’t look surprised.”

“I had a lot to think about walking home.” He smiles even more, and you kneel down next to him, your hand going to his hair without even thinking to much about it, you move them away from his forehead, and you just now notice a few small cuts on his face. “Is this a deal breaker for you?” He chuckles softly, his breath catching, even he knows how ridiculous he sounds right now, but you’re too mad to joke around with him.

“The deal breaker was you vanishing for weeks, lying to our friends, lying to me, finding useless excuses, asking me out on a date and then letting me run off of my own, leaving me alone at the library for hours and-“ You notice the way he’s looking at you, each word you say making him feel even worse, his already huge eyes looking even bigger.

“And… it doesnt even matter, because i like you so much i cant get mad at you.” It should feel good, telling him that you like him, it should feel like letting go of a weight off your shoulders, but it doesnt. Your heart feels heavy, you dont know how to feel, you’re worried sick and you dont know how you’re going to handle knowing that he is, indeed, spiderman.

You let your head fall on his shoulder while he hugs you almost immediately. You can hear the way his heart is beating, he doesn’t like seeing you like this and he hates being the cause of it, so he tries to soothe you down, hands caressing your back and playing with your hair.

“I like you a lot, too. And if this too much for you i’ll- I dont know, i’ll ask that damn doctor magician to erase it from your memory or something, just- I’m sorry.” You shake your head no while hiding in his chest, you dont want to forget this, he trusted you enough to know, and you respect that. “Who else knows?” “Jay and well, Mr. Stark and well yeah, everyone of that category.”

You just nod, you really cant believe this. Jungwon and Jay keeping a secret of this sort, you really thought Jungwon was the kind of guy to tell anyone if he were to be a hero, but apparently you know way less about him than you expected. You raise your head to look at him. He looks pretty hot like this, his lips are red, probably from fighting, his hair is a mess and that’s partly your faul, and wow. The suit fits him so well. His broad shoulders, his toned chest and his biceps look even better with it on.

“You’re staring.” He says, his fingers going under your chin to make you look at his face, which doesnt help your wondering thoughts, since he’s just that handsome. “You always stare at me, too.” “Yeah, ‘cause you’re pretty.” You crack a smile at that, its not the first time he calls you pretty, but it always gives you butterflies. Before you even realize, he puts his arms on your waist and makes you sit on his lap. Well, now you know where all his strength comes from.

“I wasnt expecting our first date to end up like this.” He moves to be closer to you, his nose nuzzling with yours, his voice getting lower, your hands rest on his chest. “What were you expecting?” That question seems to get a reaction out of him, his brow raising, a smirk on his face. “Well, you would’ve hated the movie i choose anyway. At that would’ve led you to be bored, and to us making out.” You giggle at that, you dont know if that would’ve actually happened, but the thought is nice.

“You think you can make my dream come true, Pretty?” Maybe its the suit that is making him act even more cocky than he usually is, or maybe you’re just too turned on by it to think about anything else. Your eyes scan him one last time, your hands moving behind his neck, your lips brushing against each other. “I’ll try.” And that said, your lips finally crash into his. For years you imagined how it would feel to kiss him, and this is so much better than any of that.

Jungwon is confident in his moves, his lips move with ease against yours, his hands keep you still on his lap, his tongue gently asking for permission by licking your bottom lip. You let him, not know that its going to be the end for you. He tilts his head, enough to go deeper while you just let him take the lead. You feel like you’re in heaven his lips are soft yet his kissing gets rougher as time passes, soon enough the room is filled with the sounds of your breathing, your lips meeting and tongues clicking. He doesnt seem to be wanting to let you go, you still pull out after a while, feeling out of breath.

He leans in for more but you stop him with a gentle peck, a giggle escaping from you. “Calm down, Spidey. Not everyone has super lungs.” “I dont, either.” He laughs and pushes your hair our of your face and puts them behind your ears. “You’re really okay with this? Even if I’m spiderman?” You can hear the insecurity in his voice, and honestly, it really is a big deal. He’s a superhero, he gets in trouble, people want him dead and knowing it might affect your daily life too. But right now you dont care.

“First of all, you’re Jungwon. We’ll figure out the spiderman stuff together. But yes, i am sure about Jungwon, a hundred percent.” He nods, a smile on his lips before he kisses you again, and again, and again. “I should’ve done this a long time ago.” He whispers between kisses, next thing you know he picks you up before throwing you on the bed, you giggle again, your body open to him.

You look at him and he just looks so perfect to you. You can’t believe this is happening, Jungwon is on top of you, kissing you and whispering sweet nothings between your lips. He pulls out for a few seconds to look back at you, a smirk on your lips as you bite his ear before whispering.

“The suit stays on, though.”

[rizzanon]

03 | EVERYTHING IS AWESOME…

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The night was calm, as far as Gotham standards went. Dick leapt across rooftops with practiced ease, the crisp night air cooling the sweat on his brow. Patrol had been fairly routine so far—an attempted mugging here, a couple of carjackers there. But even as he flipped and fought, his mind was elsewhere.

You.

Why was it that for the past few days, he couldn’t seem to catch you for even a moment? Every time he stopped by the manor, Alfred had the same response: Miss (Name) is out at the moment, Master Richard.

Out? Out where?

He’d pressed Alfred for more details the first time, but the butler’s polite smile and vague responses left him with more questions than answers.

He ducked under a clumsy swing from a thug, twisting his attacker’s wrist and disarming him in one fluid motion. Were you avoiding him? The idea gnawed at him, even though he tried to dismiss it. Surely you wouldn’t do that. Not to him. Right?

But the signs were starting to feel undeniable. You answer his texts hours later, and even those were short and simple. Most of his calls went straight to voicemail and when you do pick up, it was to say that you couldn’t talk right now. Whenever he asked anyone in the family about you, they either gave noncommittal answers or shrugged. Even Damian had been uncharacteristically tight-lipped when Dick had broached the topic with him. That, more than anything, felt like a red flag.

Had the two of you not reconciled yet?

What did you two even argue about to get to this point? Damian wouldn’t tell him anything no matter how much he bugged him.

The thought made his chest tighten uncomfortably. Did he do something? Say something? He ran through every interaction he’d had with you in recent memory, trying to pinpoint where things might’ve gone wrong. But nothing came to mind. You’d always seemed fine, maybe a little quieter than usual, but he’d chalked that up to you being tired. Gotham took its toll on everyone eventually.

Still, the nagging doubt lingered. The idea that you might be avoiding him on purpose—it didn’t sit right. You were family. He thought he’d always made that clear (he did right?), that you could come to him about anything. So why did it feel like you were slipping away? Did he not make it clear enough? (did he even make it clear?)

Dick pushed off the railing, his footsteps echoing as he started pacing again. He didn’t like this feeling. He needed to figure out what was going on. What had changed? And why did it feel like you were determined to keep him at arm’s length?

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”

He knocked the thug out with a quick jab to the jaw and spun around to check on Jason, who was dealing with the last of the group. His voice, distorted slightly by the modulator in his helmet.

Jason, of course, was handling them with his usual… flair. A solid punch here, a sharp kick there, and the thugs were down for the count in no time. As Jason holstered his pistol, he glanced over at Dick, tilting his head slightly as though sizing him up.

Dick let out a sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. “Haha. Very funny.”

Jason lets out an audible scoff. Even though his face was obscured by his helmet, Dick could practically feel the eye roll.

“So?” Jason drawled, crossing his arms as he leaned against a lamppost. “Are you gonna speak up or what?”

Dick just sighs as he puts away his escrima sticks.

“It’s about (name).”

“What? She messed up again or something?”

Dick’s head snapped toward him, his brow furrowing. “What? No. Why would you even—”

Jason shrugged, kicking at the unconscious body of one of the thugs as if to test if he was really out cold. “I dunno. She’s always messing something up, isn’t she? And you have to clean up after her. At least, that’s the vibe I get.”

Dick’s shoulders tensed, a sharp frustration bubbling to the surface. “Jason, seriously?”

Jason raised his hands in mock surrender. “What? I’m just saying—”

“No, you’re not ‘just saying,’” Dick interrupted, his voice sharper than he intended. “This is exactly why I’m worried. You guys act like she’s just… this screw-up, like she’s some annoyance you have to deal with, and it’s not fair.”

Jason tilted his head, clearly surprised by the outburst. “Okay, hold on. Where’s this coming from?”

Dick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He leaned against a nearby wall, staring out over the dimly lit alleyway. “(Name) quit being Batgirl.”

Jason visibly froze for a split second at Dick’s words, the tension in his stance betraying his surprise. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He let out a scoff, straightening up and crossing his arms. “Okay. And?”

Dick blinked at him, momentarily thrown off. “What do you mean, ‘Okay, and?’” he asked, incredulous. “(Name) quit, Jason. (Name). The girl who literally begged B and Babs to let her become Batgirl. She didn’t just want it; she fought for it. And now—”

“And now she’s finally done being a liability in a cape,” Jason interrupted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Honestly, Grayson, shouldn’t you be happy about it?”

Dick’s breath hitched, the bluntness of the statement striking a nerve. He opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. He hated to admit it, but a part of him—the small, cruel voice he always tried to silence—had whispered something similar when he first heard the news.

Jason, noticing the brief flicker of hesitation on Dick’s face, took that as his cue to keep going. “I mean, come on. She’s not cut out for this life, and you know it. You’re just too polite to say it out loud. So, good for her. She’s finally realized what the rest of us already knew.”

Dick was silent, his jaw tightening as Jason’s words hung heavy in the air. He didn’t want to agree, not even a little. But the doubt had already been planted, and Jason’s callousness only made it worse.

“No,” Dick said finally, his voice firm. He shook his head, as though trying to rid himself of the thought entirely. “Don’t call her a liability, Jay. And that’s not the point. She quit, yeah, but she’s been distant ever since. When she had this huge fight with Damian—”

Jason snorted. “Probably demon spawn’s fault.”

“Don’t say that,” Dick snapped, frowning at him. “It’s no one’s fault, Jason. They probably weren’t in the right headspace and let their emotions get the better of them.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Dick ignored the jab, his focus still on you and the unanswered questions swirling in his mind. He wasn’t going to let Jason’s cynicism—or his own creeping doubts—stop him. Whatever was going on, he’d figure it out. And more importantly, he’d make sure you knew that he cared, no matter what anyone else thought.

Dick sighed, running a hand down his face. “Jay, come on.”

Jason turned to him, arms crossing defensively. “Seriously, what the hell do you want me to do, Dick?”

“I don’t know! Go talk to her or something!” Dick snapped, exasperation lacing his tone.

Jason gave him a flat, unimpressed look. “Oh, right. Like she’d talk to me of all people. Great plan, genius.”

Dick threw up his hands in frustration, his patience quickly wearing thin. “Come on. What’s your deal?”

Jason paused, the question clearly catching him off guard. “Excuse me?” His voice dropped a notch, low and warning.

But Dick didn’t care about the edge in Jason’s tone or the way his posture screamed “back off.” He was too fed up, too worried, and too frustrated to stop now. “No, seriously,” Dick pressed, stepping closer. “It’s like you don’t even care about (Name).”

Jason’s whole body tensed, his fists clenching at his sides. Dick could practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves.

“What?” Jason snapped, his voice rising. “So you want her to keep wearing a mask and fight battles she clearly can’t handle? You want her to keep throwing herself into situations where she’s gonna get herself killed? That’s what caring looks like to you?”

Dick stepped forward, his own frustration boiling over. “This isn’t about whether or not she’s wearing a mask! This is about you acting like you don’t give a damn about her!”

Jason let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, so now you’re the expert on what I feel? That’s rich coming from you.”

“I thought you two were close, Jason,” Dick shot back, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. “What happened? You used to care about her. You used to look out for her!”

Jason scoffed, the sound harsh and bitter. “What happened? Life happened, Dick. I’m not the same 15-year-old boy she knew back then. And I’ll never be that guy she knew again. So don’t stand there and act like you have any right to talk about my relationship with her when I don’t see you even having half of what me and her had before.”

That struck a nerve, and Dick’s jaw tightened. “You think I don’t care about her?” he asked, his voice low and steady now, the anger simmering beneath the surface.

Jason’s helmet tilted slightly, as if he was sizing Dick up. “Oh, you care, alright. But not enough to actually see what’s in front of you. She tries too hard, she’s always second guessing herself, and honestly? It’s exhausting to watch. Whereas you’re too busy running around trying to ‘fix’ everything to even notice.”

Dick flinched, the words cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. “That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair,” Jason shot back, stepping closer, his voice dripping with bitterness. “But here’s the thing—you want her to keep being Batgirl because it makes you feel better. Like you’re holding this family together or something. But did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, she quit because she wants to?” He gestured vaguely at their surroundings. “And instead of giving her the space to do that, you’re chasing her down like she’s some mission you need to complete.”

Jason’s words hit Dick like a slap in the face, leaving him momentarily stunned.

“I’m just trying to help her,” Dick said softly, his voice losing some of its fire.

Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair, finally removing his helmet. His face was set in a hard expression, but there was something raw in his eyes. “Yeah, well, sometimes helping means knowing when to back the hell off.”

The two of them stood in tense silence, the night air heavy with unspoken words. Finally, Jason stepped back, shaking his head. “If you want to do something for her, stop acting like you know what’s best for her. I’d rather see her alive than rotting as a damn corpse, labelled as one of the old man’s fallen soldiers.”

With that, Jason turned and walked away, leaving Dick standing there, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on his shoulders.

The thugs were all rounded up and still unconscious, whereas Jason was out of sight. But his words lingered in Dick’s mind, playing on a loop.

I’d rather see her alive than rotting as a damn corpse.

Dick sighed, sitting on the edge of the rooftop. His escrima sticks rested loosely in his hands as he stared down at the empty streets below. Jason’s parting words had hit their mark, and he hated to admit it. The thought of you… dying—just the word alone made his stomach churn.

Jason had already died once, and Dick hadn’t been there to stop it. He hadn’t been there to save him. If the same thing happened to you, if you ended up another casualty in their endless war against Gotham’s darkness…

That’s on him.

He swallowed hard, gripping his escrima sticks tighter as guilt began to settle in his chest like a lead weight. Jason was right. It was probably a good thing you quit. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he let another one of his siblings die.

Siblings.

The word felt heavy now, laden with unspoken truths. Jason’s earlier jab suddenly clawed its way to the forefront of Dick’s mind:

Don’t stand there and act like you have any right to talk about my relationship with her when I don’t see you even having half of what me and her had before.

Did Jason really believe that? Did you?

He shook his head, trying to dismiss the thought. Of course, he cared about you. Of course, he’d been there for you. Hadn’t he?

But as much as he wanted to dismiss Jason’s words, they stuck with him, gnawing at the edges of his conscience. Slowly, memories began to surface, unbidden and relentless.

He was Robin then—young, brash, and full of anger. The grief over his parents’ deaths was still fresh, a raw wound he didn’t know how to heal. And you… you were Bruce’s kid. That was all he saw you as. He watched you grow up, become this bubbly kid, who, for some reason, looked up to him a lot.

But what did he do with that? He bailed.

He could remember it so clearly now, those moments when you’d ask him to play with you, to just talk—and he’d brush you off. “Not now, (Name),” he’d say, and ruffle your hair. The Teen Titans needed him. Gotham needed him. But you didn’t know that. Bruce wanted to keep you out of this life, and frankly, he did too. Which was why there was always some excuse to explain why he was so busy, why he couldn’t play with you for as long as you wanted him to.

He winced as another memory came rushing back: one of the many times you’d waited up for him in the living room, hoping to show him some new arts and craft you did, or one of your tests that you did really well in. He’d walked in with Wally and Donna, laughing about something from their latest mission, barely sparing you a glance.

“Wow, this is nice!” He’d say absent-mindedly, before ruffling your hair like you were some kid tagging along.

“I’ll catch you later, alright?” he’d say, and then he’d leave you alone.

And what had you done? You’d nodded, forced a smile, even as disappointment flashed across your face. He hadn’t noticed it then—not really. He’d been too caught up in his own world, too focused on proving himself to the team, to Bruce, to everyone.

Dick let out a shaky breath, the weight of those memories settling over him like a suffocating blanket. God, Jason was right.

He hadn’t been there for you the way Jason had. Jason, for all his faults, had always been someone you could count on when he first came to the family—someone who didn’t bail, who didn’t make you feel lonely.

But that was before his death. Now things were different between you two. Neither of you were willing to repair the broken bond you two once shared. Why? He wasn’t sure.

Dick rubbed a hand over his face, the ache in his chest growing sharper. “Damnit,” he muttered under his breath.

What could he even do to make this right? To show you that you mattered to him—that you’d always mattered?

But deep down, he already knew the answer. He couldn’t fix this with mere words or gestures or even the best intentions. He had to show you, prove to you, that he was here for you now. That he wasn’t going to leave you alone this time.

Even if that meant letting you go for now, giving you the space you clearly needed. Even if that meant accepting that you no longer wanted to be Batgirl, that he’d fallen short. But he was willing to do better. Even if it meant he’d had to wait.

The thought hurt, but it was better than losing you for good.

“This is nice.”

The warm sunlight filtered through the trees at Gotham Park, casting dappled patterns across the picnic blanket. Caitlyn was leaned against you, her sketchpad balanced on her knees, pencil gliding smoothly as she doodled. Adrien sat cross-legged across from you both, stuffing another bite of a homemade pastry into his mouth with an exaggerated hum of delight.

Adrien nodded enthusiastically, agreeing with Caitlyn, as he pointed his fork at you. “You can say that again! (Name), I didn’t know you could make treats like this! They’re so good!”

Caitlyn grinned, glancing up from her sketch. “Literally! This is amazing. You’ve been holding out on us, chef.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down at your hands, a little bashful at their praise. “I… honestly didn’t think I could make anything this good,” you admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“You’re kidding, right?” Adrien said, picking up another cookie. “These are, like, professional-level good. If you ever decide to stop… uh, doing whatever it is you do after school, you could totally open a bakery or something.”

You laughed, though the comment stung just a little—only because you didn’t know you were good at making pasteries.

To fill up your now free schedule after quiting as Batgirl, you had gone to Alfred and asked him to teach you how to bake.

Alfred, helpful and patient as always, agreed without hesitation. “Baking, my dear,” he had said with a faint smile, “is both a science and an art. It requires precision, but it is also a most rewarding endeavor.”

And so, your evenings became a blend of warmth, flour-dusted counters, and Alfred’s gentle guidance. He would show you how to knead dough, measure ingredients with precision, and even share some of his most guarded recipes—ones he claimed even your father was particularly fond of.

When you weren’t in the kitchen with Alfred, you spent your afternoons at the library with Caitlyn and Adrien. Studying with them, or rather, helping them study, had become another way to fill your time.

High school material was easy enough for you—thanks to your first life. You’d already tackled algebra, chemistry, and history years ago. So instead of cramming for tests yourself, you found yourself explaining concepts to Caitlyn and Adrien, who both leaned heavily on your ability to simplify even the most convoluted topics.

“Okay, so… if x is equal to 4, then y has to be…” Adrien tapped his pencil against his notebook, staring intently at the equation in front of him

“Eight,” Caitlyn supplied confidently, but her grin faltered when Adrien and you both gave her a look.

“Try again,” you said with a soft laugh, pointing to the part of the equation she’d miscalculated.

Caitlyn groaned dramatically, flopping back into her chair. “Math is dumb.”

“Math is logical,” you corrected, though your teasing tone made Adrien snort. “You just need to stop skipping steps.”

“Why does it feel like you’re giving us the cheat sheet to life?” Adrien said, glancing up from his notes. “You make this stuff seem so easy.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Caitlyn chimed in. “Are you secretly some kind of math genius or something?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I’ve just… always been good at this kind of thing.”

They didn’t need to know the full truth—that you’d already gone through high school. They didn’t know the truth about you or your family before, and you weren’t planning to change that now. They didn’t need to know about the mask you’d taken off or the life you were trying to leave behind. For now, it was enough to help them, to enjoy their company, and to let this simpler version of your life unfold.

It was strange, almost surreal, how quickly you’d settled into this new routine. But you found that you didn’t mind it. For the first time in a long time, life felt… normal. And maybe that was what you needed most.

As Caitlyn returned to her doodling and Adrien polished off another pastry, you leaned back on your hands, letting the moment sink in. It felt… peaceful. A rare pocket of calm in the chaos that had been your life lately.

The park was lively but not overwhelming, the gentle hum of laughter and chatter from other families and friends creating a soothing backdrop. The late afternoon sun warmed your skin, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt grounded.

“Hey,” Adrien said suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts. “We should do this more often.”

Caitlyn nodded. “Agreed. This is probably the most relaxed I’ve seen you in weeks, (Name).”

You hesitated, glancing between your two friends. They weren’t wrong. But a part of you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. You weren’t being truthful to them, yet they were still being so nice. You didn’t deserve them.

You opened your mouth to reply, ready to brush off Caitlyn’s and Adrien’s comments, when a sudden, sharp flash of green invaded your vision. It was jarring—so vivid and overwhelming that you winced, instinctively bringing a hand to your temple. For a moment, it felt like the world tilted on its axis, the vibrant sounds of the park muffled by the ringing in your ears.

And just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

You blinked, your heart racing as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. The green was seared into your memory, the edges of it glowing like embers before fading entirely. The momentary pain in your head vanished, leaving behind nothing but confusion.

“What the hell…” you muttered under your breath, still dazed.

“(Name)!” Caitlyn’s voice was sharp with concern, snapping you out of your stupor. “Are you okay? What just happened?”

Adrien leaned closer, his eyes wide with worry. “You winced. Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?”

You glanced between the two of them, their faces etched with genuine concern. You didn’t want to worry them. You couldn’t worry them. So you forced a laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing, really. Just a headache. Probably didn’t drink enough water or something.”

But Caitlyn wasn’t buying it. She immediately pushed herself off you, her sketchbook forgotten as she leaned in close, her expression dead serious. “Nope. No way. If you’ve got a headache, you need to go home and rest. Sun’s probably not helping either.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Adrien chimed in, nodding emphatically. “Don’t push yourself too much. We can always continue this another time, okay?”

You tried to protest, but their stubbornness left no room for argument. Caitlyn was already packing up the picnic, her movements quick and decisive, while Adrien carefully wrapped up the leftover pastries.

“You guys are being dramatic—” you started to say, but Caitlyn cut you off with a pointed glare.

“Nope. Not hearing it. We’re not taking any chances,” she insisted, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Come on, we’ll walk you home.”

A sigh escaped your lips as you realized there was no point in fighting them on this. “Alright, alright. I’ll go.”

As the three of you made your way out of the park, Caitlyn clinging protectively to your arm, your thoughts drifted back to the green flashes. What the hell was that? It wasn’t just a headache—that much you knew.

You forced a smile as Caitlyn began chattering about her latest art project, Adrien throwing in jokes to lighten the mood. But in the back of your mind, the unsettling image of green light lingered, pulsing faintly like a warning you couldn’t ignore.

You finally managed to convince Caitlyn and Adrien to leave you at the gates of Wayne Manor, reassuring them for what felt like the hundredth time that you’d be fine. They only relented when you promised to text them once you’re feeling better, and with a wave and one last concerned glance, they finally left. You sighed in relief and turned toward the manor, making your way inside.

When you stepped inside, that’s when you saw him—a familiar, bubbly boy practically skipping towards the manor entrance. Jon Kent. Superman’s son. Damian’s best (and only) friend.

Wow. He looked so much younger than you remembered.

The moment Jon spotted you, his face lit up. Before you could even blink, he was flying over to you, his grin wide and infectious. “(Name)!” he called cheerfully as he landed in front of you, his feet barely making a sound on the gravel path.

You blinked, startled but unable to help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Hey, Jon.”

“How are you? Are you okay? You look okay! Wait—were you out? Where did you go? Do you need help carrying anything?!” He practically bounced on his heels as he bombarded you with questions, his usual excited energy radiating off him like sunlight.

You chuckled fondly, shaking your head as you answered. “I’m fine, Jon, really. And no, I don’t need help. I was just out with some friends.”

“Oh, okay!” he chirped, looking momentarily reassured. “I was just here hanging out with Damian, but—uh, well…” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his cheeks turning a little pink. “I kinda didn’t tell my parents I was flying over here. So, you know, I should probably head back to Metropolis before they notice I’m gone.”

You snorted softly at that, a nostalgic warmth in your chest. “Your secret’s safe with me. I’ll pretend I didn’t see you.” You said, and winked.

Jon’s grin returned in full force, but it faltered slightly as he looked at you again. This time, his expression was hesitant, uncertain, like he was trying to figure out how to say something.

“What’s wrong?” you asked gently, tilting your head at him.

Jon shuffled his feet, his voice quieter now. “Uh… can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

He hesitated again, looking down before blurting out, “Is everything okay between you and Damian?”

You froze. The question caught you completely off guard. Your mind stalled, your smile faltering as you stared at him, wide-eyed and stunned.

Jon must’ve noticed, because he immediately panicked, waving his hands frantically as he backtracked. “Oh! You don’t have to answer! Forget I asked! It’s just—” He fumbled over his words, his cheeks turning red. “I was asking Damian about you, and he… he kinda just glared at me. And then he changed the subject! Really fast! Like, super fast. And, uh… I’ve never really seen him act like that before.”

You blinked, his words sinking in slowly. Damian… avoiding the subject of you? Now that you thought about it, you hadn’t exactly seen Damian around the manor since that argument in your room. It was like he was going out of his way to avoid you entirely. Was he?

But you couldn’t let Jon worry about that. He was just a kid, and this wasn’t his problem. So, instead of letting your own thoughts spiral, you forced a laugh and reached out to ruffle his hair gently. “Don’t worry about it, Jon. Damian and I just got into an argument, that’s all. Nothing to lose sleep over.”

Jon blinked up at you, his expression still unsure, but he nodded slowly, leaning into the comforting touch of your hand. “Okay… if you say so.”

“Really. We’ll work it out,” you reassured him, giving his hair one last affectionate pat. Somehow.

He smiled again, though it was a little smaller this time. “Alright. I just wanted to make sure. You know… you’re important to Damian too, even if he doesn’t say it.”

You paused at that, something in your chest squeezing painfully, but before you could respond, Jon glanced at the time and jolted upright. “Oh no! I really gotta go now, or I’m so dead!”

With that, he gave you a hurried wave, his boyish grin returning. “Bye, (Name)! I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You smiled softly and waved back as he floated up into the sky, watching as he zipped off toward Metropolis in a blur of red and blue. Once he was gone, you let out a slow breath, your hand falling to your side as your thoughts drifted back to Damian.

Jon’s words lingered in your mind.

You’re important to Damian too.

It doesn’t really feel that way though….

Alfred Pennyworth, ever the watchful guardian of Wayne Manor, had always considered it his duty—not just as a butler, but as something far more profound—to care for the members of the Wayne family. For all their strength and tenacity, they were, at their core, human. Bruce and his children—each carrying burdens far heavier than any child or young adult should. And so, he noticed things. He always noticed.

Lately, what he noticed most was the way you carried yourself these past few days—lighter, freer. There was a spark in your eyes that had been absent for far too long, a small but significant ease in your posture. You looked happier. Relaxed, even. It was subtle, something anyone else might have overlooked, but not Alfred. No, he knew you. He knew what haunted you when you thought no one was looking. But now? Now you seemed… different.

Frankly, he hoped it stayed that way.

“Miss (Name), if I may,” Alfred began gently as he watched you measure flour into a bowl, a little puff of white powder escaping into the air. “You seem… at peace, lately...”

You paused, glancing up at him with a small, slightly sheepish smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“Indeed.” He gave you a soft, knowing look as he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves. “Would it be terribly forward of me to inquire as to what—or who—has brought about this change?”

You shifted, focusing a little too hard on sifting the flour as you shrugged. “It’s my friends. Caitlyn and Adrien. They helped me realize there’s more to life than just…” You trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Than just the responsibilities placed upon your shoulders?” Alfred offered delicately.

You nodded, giving him a grateful glance. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Your friends. Alfred found himself deeply relieved to hear that you had people like Caitlyn and Adrien in your life—people who brought you happiness, people who helped lighten the weight you carried. “I see,” he said with a small smile. “It gladdens my heart to know you have such loyal companions. Though, might I suggest inviting them here, to the manor?”

You blinked, looking at him as though he’d suggested something preposterous. “Alfred…”

“Miss, it would seem only fair for me to meet the individuals who have been instrumental in helping you through your turmoil. They seem like lovely people.” His tone was kind, slight humourous even, as he mixed something in a nearby bowl.

You laughed softly, but there was a stubborn edge to it as you shook your head. “As much as I’d like for you to meet them, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Alfred. They don’t know about this family’s secrets, and I intend to keep it that way..”

Alfred raised an eyebrow, ever patient. “I’m certain Master Bruce and Master Richard can manage a polite exchange, at the very least.”

You gave him a pointed look, and Alfred sighed, though it was laced with fondness. “Very well, Miss (Name). If you insist.”

“Thanks,” you said softly, giving him a small smile.

Though Alfred was slightly disappointed at your reluctance, he respected your wishes. He always did. And if your friends made you happy—even if he wouldn’t be able to meet them—then he supposed that was enough for now.

“Now then,” Alfred said, turning back to the task at hand, “you’ll want to add the butter slowly while continuing to mix.”

You hummed as you followed his instruction, your brow furrowing in concentration. The two of you fell into an easy rhythm, the kitchen filling with the soft sounds of utensils clinking, the hum of the oven warming, and your quiet conversation.

“So, Miss Caitlyn and Mister Adrien—are they excelling in their studies with your assistance?”

“Adrien, yes,” you said, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “Caitlyn… well, she’s trying, but math isn’t really her thing.”

“And yet you continue to help them both. How noble of you,” Alfred replied as he handed you a whisk. “And what of school itself? Are you settling in well?”

You shrugged, starting to mix the ingredients. “Eh…It’s alright. A little boring sometimes, but I guess it’s better than…”

Dying.

You stopped yourself short, quickly correcting, “better than not being in school at all.”

Alfred didn’t miss the slip, but he didn’t press. “Indeed. A dull day can be a blessing in disguise.”

You gave him a thoughtful look, lips quirking into a soft smile. “You always know what to say, Alfred.”

“I try, Miss (Name). I try.”

And as Alfred watched you work—your expression relaxed, your mind seemingly at ease—he hoped, quietly, that this simpler version of your life, this peaceful respite, would last just a little longer.

The soft hum of the oven filled the kitchen as you pulled the last batch of treats onto the counter. The warm, golden pastries sat neatly on their tray, a small comfort in a life that had otherwise been anything but neat. Baking had become your escape—an anchor to hold onto when everything else felt like it was slipping through your fingers.

But the calm was short-lived.

Alfred’s comm buzzed quietly, and though his expression remained composed, you saw the subtle shift in his demeanor—a slight straightening of his back, the way his gaze sharpened. Something was happening.

“It seems Master Bruce and the others require my assistance,” he said, his tone steady as always.

You already knew what that meant. Gotham was in chaos again.

Alfred turned to you, his expression softening with the familiarity of his next question. “Are you sure you do not wish to assist? They could use an extra hand, Miss (Name).”

The offer hung in the air, and for a second, you hesitated. There was always a small part of you that wanted to say yes, to jump back into action and prove yourself—to prove you could help.

But then you suddenly got flashbacks of a memory that you had kept stored away. Oh right. You remembered what this attack was.

Another one of Riddler’s bombing attacks.

Riddler had been terrorizing Gotham with a string of coordinated explosions around this time, targeting key buildings across the city. Chaos had unfolded over the city as your father, along with other available vigilantes in Gotham, scrambled to contain the damage, evacuate civilians, and track down Riddler before he could set off another series of bombs.

You had been told to stay put back then. “It’s too dangerous,” Bruce had said. “We need you to sit this one out.”

But you hadn’t listened.

You’d tracked down one of Riddler’s supposed locations on your own, convinced you could help. The moment you arrived, you knew you’d made a mistake. The building had been rigged, and your sudden presence sent everything spiraling. The countdown on the bomb accelerated. The Riddler’s men panicked and scattered, slipping out before Bruce and the others could surround them.

Dick, Tim, Stephanie and Cassandra had to swoop in to clean up the mess—disarming the bomb, calming the chaos, and stopping any further destruction. They managed to save the day, to prevent any civilian casualties, but Riddler himself got away.

Bruce’s fury still echoed in your head.

“Do you have any idea what you nearly cost us tonight?”

You hadn’t been able to look him in the eye.

“They got the job done,” you’d mumbled, your voice small, but that hadn’t mattered to him.

“Because they had to clean up after you,” he’d snapped, his words sharp enough to sting. “You disobeyed a direct order, and you let Riddler slip away.”

It was one of those moments you wouldn’t forget. Not because of Bruce’s anger, but because he’d been right. You’d wanted to help, and all you’d done was make it harder for everyone else.

Back in the kitchen, you swallowed hard, snapping back to the present. Alfred was still watching you patiently, waiting for an answer.

“I’m sure,” you said finally, your voice tight but firm. You offered a small, forced smile. “They don’t need me. They can handle it themselves.”

For a moment, Alfred regarded you with that knowing look of his, like he could see through every wall you’d put up.

“Very well,” he said softly, though there was a faint note of disappointment in his voice. “If you change your mind…”

“I won’t,” you cut in quickly, your voice quieter this time.

Alfred gave a small nod, seemingly accepting your answer, though you didn’t miss the flicker of concern in his gaze as he turned toward the door.

As he left to fulfill his duties, the kitchen fell silent once more. You leaned back against the counter, staring blankly at the pastries you’d worked so hard on.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides.

“They don’t need me,” you whispered to yourself, repeating the words like a mantra.

But it didn’t feel comforting. It felt hollow.

Because, deep down, the truth still hurts you even now.

You stood in the quiet kitchen for a moment after Alfred left, the hum of the Wayne Manor settling into the evening stillness. The smell of baked goods lingered in the air, but even that wasn’t enough to soothe the weight pressing down on you. With a tired sigh, you began packing everything away, carefully placing the treats into containers and wiping down the counters.

Once the kitchen was clean and silent, you dragged yourself upstairs to your room. It had been a long day—long week, really—and all you wanted to do was sleep. Kicking off your shoes and pulling the blankets over yourself, you let exhaustion take over. For once, you didn’t dream.

A sharp ringing jolted you awake.

Your eyes cracked open reluctantly, the faint glow of your phone lighting up your bedside table. The clock read 4:23 AM. Groaning, you fumbled for the phone, squinting at the screen to see an incoming call—and a series of missed notifications.

22 messages from Caitlyn.

The sight alone snapped you out of your drowsiness. Your stomach twisted, the urgency of it sinking in as you swiped to pick up.

“Caitlyn?” Your voice was groggy and thick with sleep, but there was an edge of concern as you sat up in bed. “What’s going on?”

“(Name)!” Caitlyn’s voice came through the line, panicked, frantic, and scared. It hit you like a punch to the gut. “Oh my god, I—It’s Adrien….He—He’s in the hospital…!”

What?

I think you guys should read the masterlist once more in case you missed out any key warnings…

taglist (1/2): @tricksters-maze @dusk-muse @quethekillerqueen @silverklaus @isupportorbitalbombardment @nxdxsworld @vanessa-boo @coffeeaddictxd @moonsbluekingdom @yuya-bubbly @percythebitchwitch @anonymousdisco @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @redsakura101 @what-0-life @idkwhattoputhete @secretyouthcomputer @witch-waycult @allycat4458 @dazed-lavender @eclecticfurylady @wizzerreblogs @marsmabe @daddysfangirls-dc @hoeinthehouse @beeweensblog @ilxandra @agent-nobody-knows @thethingwiththefeathers @mochiivqi @pix-stuff @narration-ator @nebulousmoon3990 @delias-stuff @froggy-voidd @jjsmeowthie @kore-of-the-underworld @nen-nyy @juthesillylesbain @vikkus-main @emilylouise123 @blueiones @horror-lover-69 @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wassupbroski55555 @reallyromealone @plsfckmedxddy @sea-glasses @203moonysello @luvly-writer @dovey-quacks2332 @love-theangel @hotdinoankles @vebbiewuzhere @animegirlfromvietnam @estreiiuh @simply-lovely78 @twismare @ssak-i @g4bbi3xx @alor-thes | ask to be added <3 (idk why i can’t tag some of y’all, must be your settings i think 😓)

[a-b-riddle]

Part Three

Warning: If you don't like Taylor Swift, you're not gonna like this chapter that much, homie. But So Long, London is so fitting for this drabble series. (I guess a series since it's longer than a drabble at this point)

Can’t stop thinking about reader just trying to move on

You had to remind yourself several times not to check in with the guys. It had almost become second nature doing something big like this. But going to another country…

Not that they would care. You told yourself. It was for the best that way.

The expo went better than you expected. You didn’t believe that there would be a line out the door of eager readers wanting to read your book, but you got a decent amount. More than a few told you they couldn’t wait to read it. Several asking for photos and asking questions on any future books, a spin-off or even continuing the series.

When one a particular large group of girls your age asked for a group photo, you could have cried. They were had found each other in an online book club. You had given them your book several months ago. All copies signed with a note thanking them for taking the time to read what you had poured your heart into.

You had spent a large chunk of your free time talking to them. Bonding more so as women than over your book.

"Have you listened to Taylor's new album?"

It had only been out for two days and you had been able to avoid it like the plague. You didn't need to even listen to 'So Long, London' to know it would fucking gut you. So you would enjoy your time in the states. Save the listening experience for when you were packing up their stuff.

They had posted and tagged you before continuing on with the rest of the expo. You had reposted the photo to your own social media. Or at least one attached to the pen name you had crafted. You only had twelve thousand instagram followers, but it was something.

The first day was much like the second. You had attended several Q & A sessions with a panel of more experienced authors and managed to go to a few meet and greets. Before you knew it, it was time to pack up shop.

The agent the publishing house had assigned to you had stuck with you for most of the day. You were able to pick her brain a bit about new ideas for possible future plot lines and her thoughts. Overall, the trip was great.

Not only were you able to make great connections and take a lot back home with you to reference, but for a few days you forgot what waited for you back home. Or rather what wasn't waiting for you.

By the time your plane landed back in London you could barely hold yourself up. You left the expo, went straight to the hotel to shower, pack and head to the airport.

Your flight was delayed. Your luggage was taking forever to get onto the belt. It was only seven, but fuck if you weren’t ready to just call it a day. Tomorrow you would have to start again. Opening up the shop. Coming back to an empty flat. Maybe start gathering up the items the boys had left behind.

Should you give them in separate boxes or just one giant one and let them sort it out themselves? It was easy to discern whose sweatshirt and t-shirts belonged to who, but when it got to things like socks and chargers...

Yeah.

They could sort it themselves.

You could drop it off at Kyle's when you knew he would be at the gym. He was good at avoiding you anyway.

It wasn't until you stood in your apartment did it hit you.

You were alone.

For the first time in over a year you couldn't call one of them over to soothe that ache of loneliness.

For the first time in over a year, you had to relearn how to handle just being alone.

You usually showered at night. Washing away the grime of the day before settling into bed. But today was a new chapter. You woke up wanting to start it on a good note. Plus you went straight to bed after getting home so you still had a bit of airport funk on you.

It had been a week. One official since you had sent that text nailing the coffin shut. You had touched base with your friends who didn't bat an eye at you dating four men at once. They liked them, even if Simon scared them. You didn't give them the details of the breakup or the cause. You were pretty private in your problems and if you wanted relationship advice, you would seek an unbiased unopinion.

You had a good group of friends, but the moment you told them that you were well and truly heartbroken, they would insist the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Something you were nowhere near ready for.

So you needed to look like you had your shit together. You put on a dress that was feminine and, most importantly, comfy as fuck. An A-line floral frock paired with a light sweater and some white trainers. You knew a few of your friends would be stopping by for tea so you need to look like you were taking the separation well. Even if you were barely holding it together.

With makeup and perfume on, you started the early morning stroll to your shop.

You loved openings. Starting up the register and selecting the playlist for today. Picking out the essential oil to put in the diffuser even though you mostly stuck with a lavender and vanilla blend during the spring months.

For the morning you stuck with a Taylor Swift Instrumental playlist you had found initially for studying, but you liked the peaceful feeling it brought. Even when it covered the most gut wrenching songs.

You had started to collect the online orders that had accumulated over the last week. Sending out the e-mails alerting to your patrons that their orders were ready for pick up. Luckily you weren't set to receive a delivery until tomorrow.

It was eight and everything was set. Although not many people came to a bookstore at eight in the morning, it really didn't bother you opening up that early considering you were the only employee that was on the payroll. It gave you the possibility of making money, but mostly you spent the morning reading or writing.

You flipped the sign over from CLOSED to OPEN. Ready to start take on the day.

You had turned the kettle on in the back room when your friends had stopped by around lunch. You always said it was just tea, but you always had an array of snacks on standby for you all to munch on.

Meredith was complaining about what a dick the new client at the law firm was being. An absolute slime who had been married to his wife for almost twenty-five years before he decided to fuck his twenty-two year old assistant.

Tabitha didn't want to talk about work. To her, her career in tech was just a paycheck. She did what she needed to do and left when she was done.

You talked about the expo and how your book. Although neither of them really read, they had promised that they would read your book. You didn't hold your breath. They had reposted your posts as well as making ones of their owns in celebration of you. Words of praise about your dedication and hard work.

You realized that even though they couldn't give you the support you needed as readers, they supported you blindly. You could have written absolute garbage, but they would still support you.

You talked about how many people liked your book and wanted pictures and to sign their copies.

Then came the question you had been rehearsing since you had texted them a week ago. They both shared a look before Meredith finally asked.

"How are you holding up?" You gave a half-smile and a shrug. So perfectly rehearsed in your head you were ready to deliver your lies lines.

"I'm fine," you lied. "It was just fading so there isn't much of a difference, I guess." Not necessarily a lie. "We just wanted different things and were on different paths in life." Not a lie. "It's for the best." You weren't sure if that last one was a lie or not just yet.

They both shared a passing look before returning their gazes back to you. "You know you can come to us about this stuff." Tabitha's hand reached across the table, placing a hand on top of yours.

"It wasn't going to work out." You added. "Situations like that don't and I should have known better."

"A situation?" Meredith asked. "When have you ever called it a situation?"

"It always was one."

"I love you enough to call bullshit." She raised her eyebrow at you, crossing her arms over her chest. "You loved them and you need to stop pretending this is easy."

"You're a divorce lawyer, Mere," You reminded. "You see marriages fall apart every day."

"I do. I get to see from across the table how a woman is still willing to take her cheating arse of a husband back. So the fact that you went from on cloud nine with all of them to not even talking about the break up is concerning to say the least."

"Tabitha," you looked at your only ally left. "A little back up would be nice."

"I'm with her on this one." She confirmed. "You loved them. Not that I cared, but if you weren't talking about books or the shop, you were talking about them. What you did, where you went. How they fucked you."

"I think I'll miss that part the most." Mere sighed. "I lived vicariously through you."

"You know you could actually date people." Tabitha suggested.

"I'd rather live with chronic carpal tunnel than a man." You almost choked on your tea. If you were wearing pearls you would have used the comedic relief of clutching them to break the awkwardness of the current topic of conversation.

"That should be put on a t-shirt." You suggested

"I wouldn't mind it on a welcome mat to be honest." Tabitha added.

"But in all seriousness, cut this bullshit." Meredith gave you an sympathetic smile. "We're here. Good, bad and ugly."

You returned her smile. "I know."

You had closed up shop for the evening. Your lunch had gone longer than expected so now you were left doing the dishes and clean up during closing. You were setting the last cup on the drying rack when you heard the front door chime.

Shit.

You must have forgotten to lock the door when you turned the sign.

“I’m sorry!” You apologized, making your way out of the back break area and to the front of the store. “We’re-”

“Closed.” He said, locking the door behind him. “I saw the sign.”

[loveyouprongs]

did my heart love till now?

remus lupin x fem!reader | she’s a hopeless romantic who loves halloween. he loves her. or at least he very, very, strongly likes her in a way he’s never liked anyone else. enough to wear matching costumes

upcoming content: fluff! mentions of alcohol. lmk if you think i missed anything

authors note: i hope you like this! romeo & juliet is my favorite play and the 1996 film is my favorite movie! and remus is my favorite boy :’)!

word count: 2k

masterlist

remus had been staring at himself in the mirror for so long his reflection was starting to blur, like a watercolor painting made up of the soft brown of his hair, his pale complexion, and shining silver. he felt like a fool. “a lovesick fool,” james would say, but in this moment, he just felt like a fool. period.

“hey moony, have you decided what you’re going to be for halloween yet?” sirius asked as soon as he and james barged into their shared apartment. remus tore his gaze from his book at the sound of his best friend’s unnatural sounding greeting, loud and jilted as if he’d been practicing it.

“…no, wh-“

“well look no further!” james very enthusiastically exclaimed, pulling a brown bag out from behind his back which promptly fell to the ground, the contents now hanging between him and sirius. it was a knights armor. metal shoulder pads atop a slinky silver long sleeve top with chains resting across the chest.

“what the fuck is that?”

“your halloween costume!” james said as if it were obvious.

remus could do nothing but look at his two friends, who he cared for very deeply, as if they were right idiots.

“don’t you get it?” sirius asked, “it’s romeo!”

remus then felt his face red, heat rising to his cheeks all the way to his ears and he knew he couldn’t play dumb to get out of this.

last week at dinner you had said that you were planning on dressing as juliet for halloween. “from the movie of course!”

“isn’t that part of a couples costume?” marlene asked, “are you bringing a mystery man with you to my party?”

at that, remus tensed, his shoulders instinctively rising to his ears and his heart quickened waiting for your response. he hung out with you pretty much every day, you’re tight knit friend group always sharing at least one meal together. he felt like he would know if you had a boyfriend, but he was still feeling queasy waiting for your answer.

“no mystery men with me! i guess it could be a couple’s costume, but it’s so pretty, i don’t mind doing it solo.”

remus felt his body relax and continued to pick at his food, stealing glances at you whenever he could, missing the mischievous looks being traded between james and sirius.

“i am not wearing that,” remus said resolutely.

“why not? girls love this stuff!” sirius responded, tossing the costume on remus’ lap. he refused to touch it, as if any sign that he openly had feelings for you would somehow come back to bite him in the ass. it rested on his legs like an anchor.

“you want me to surprise her with a matching costume? that’s pathetic.”

“it’s sweet!” james stressed.

“yeah, and she’s always so heart eyed over that gooey romance shit, you show up in this and she’ll be begging for it!”

sirius’ crude comments was met with a smack in the head from james and an unimpressed stare from remus.

“remus, i’m telling you, this is a perfect idea! she’s single and dressing as one half of the greatest couples in history, if you show up as the other half, oh it’ll be like straight out of the pictures!” james swooned. remus felt his heart soften at his overdramatic friend, who he knew was just trying to help him be happy, but his nerves overpowered any convincing.

“you do know they both die at the end, right? kill themselves, even. not sure that’s a message i want to send.” remus muttered, standing up from the couch to go to his room, tired of his friend’s antics.

“you’ll never get a date by just staring at her, mate!” james called out, “and she’s well fit, too! you’re time is running out and you know it!” sirius added as remus walked down the hall, the metal costume in tow, only to be shoved in his closet.

but as halloween inched closer and his feelings for you only grew stronger, james and sirius’ words echoed in his head. he could never get the thought of your soft voice and sweet smile out of his mind, he liked you. so much.

you were always the one who kept listening to him when whatever he was saying was drowned out by the group. always spoke to him in dulcet tones, especially when you felt he had a headache. you were smart and funny and kind, not to mention beautiful. beautiful in a way that reminded him of the princesses and angels he would read about in books when he was a child. soft and warm, a glow seemingly always emanating from your figure.

remus would be content with just looking at you for the rest of his life, he thinks (deep down in the back of his brain, terrified of the strength of his own feelings) but it would be nice to do it without the feat of getting caught by your stare, or his friends taking the mick out of him afterwards.

so here he stood, his torso slightly weighed down by the heavy detailing, but it fit him well nonetheless. it was almost time for them to leave for marlene’s and remus could hear his friends in the living room. he had to make a decision soon.

“y’coming, moony?” james asked through the door.

remus took a deep breath, biting off a square of chocolate. he could do this. it was halloween! you’re supposed to be in a costume. and the film was popular enough, he figured, that he could play it off as a coincidence if things went south.

“…yeah, i’m coming.” he stepped out the door and walked down the hall, rolling his eyes at james’ loud gasp.

“oh my god you’re wearing it!” james practically screeched.

“don’t make me change my mind.”

“oh remus, you’re so handsome!” sirius teased in a high pitched voice, “please be my romeo!”

“for it is the east, and juliet is the sun!” james recited.

“that’s it, i’m changing!” remus exclaimed, only to be dragged back by his waist and walked out the door.

remus was hit by the noise of the party as soon as marlene swung the door open. her eyes trailed down james’ superhero outfit, sirius dressed as patrick bateman, and then remus, her face exploding in an open mouth smile. “reeeeemussss!!!!” she squealed, clearly already on her way to drunk, “you’re such a sweetheart!” she cooed, remus’ cheeks reddening more than he thought possible.

“isn’t he just? now let us in marls, it’s fucking freezing out here!” sirius said, and with a pat on the back, he and james were emerged in the crowd.

“she isn’t here yet, remus, but oh my god she’s going to love it,”

as the night went on remus had practically glued himself to marlene’s increasingly wasted side all night, no sign of james or sirius (who he would bet money are upstairs with dates, or each other), and more importantly no sign of you. he was feeling more foolish by the minute, the metal top growing uncomfortable against his sweaty skin.

disappointed was pooling in his stomach as marlene was nodding off on his shoulder, or so he thought, but he was brought out of his thoughts when a loud yelp escaped her. “you’re here! finally!”

marlene jumped up and stumbled over to a vision in white. flowing silk draped over your body, delicate, feathered wings pinned to your back. excess fabric tied around your waist, framing you beautifully. stunningly. remus felt like he was having an out of body experience, watching himself stand frozen in the middle of the living room, mouth slightly agape, willing himself to do anything other than stare.

“REEEEMUS LOOK! LOOK WHO IT IS!” marlene shout-whispered, shoving you towards him.

you felt your breath escape you at the sight. remus, tall and sweet, looking down at you, his tussled hair dancing across his forehead and his long fingers reached up to brush it out of his eyes, hand trembling. you weren’t fully convinced you weren’t dreaming.

“she, she’s pretty out of it,” he spoke softly, referring to marlene who was now dancing with a lamp.

“y-you look, i-i really like your costume, obviously” you murmured, fiddling with your hands, resisting the urge to run your hand down his sculpted cheeks.

ever since you met him, you believed remus was one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen. and then once you got to know him, got to experience first hand his limitless kindness, his witty remarks that always put the boys teasing to shame, and his rare barking laugh that only comes out when he finds something really funny (you elicited it from him once and have spent forever chasing that high).

all your friends said he had a thing for you. that he was always staring at you with soft, hooded eyes, move his plans around for you whenever you asked to study together, rest his jacket on the seat next to him so it would appear taken so no one else would sit down it it until you came.

but you were both famously mild-mannered, shy to a fault, and your feelings never rose to the surface, but the same couldn’t be said for right now.

“oh, thank you,” remus responded, “i thought it would be nice if we could match.”

a giggle escaped you at that and you looked down, unable to meet his eye, you both wearing twin smiles.

absolutely thrilled with your reaction, remus bent his body in half, tilting his head up to catch your gaze, eyes filled with hope, “what’d y’think?”

“i think you look very dashing, rem, i didn’t know you were a shakespeare fan.”

“hmm, not so much,” with a deep breath he let out, “i’m a fan of you, though”

the neon lights flashing over you both contributed to the bubble you found yourselves in. the rowdy guests nothing but white noise as you felt your heart pound against your chest over the soft spoken boy.

“really?” it slipped out. deep seeded insecurity worming it’s way to the forefront as you were positively overwhelmed with confronting your feelings… and that who you had them for.

remus’ heart splintered a little at your warbling ask, “yes” he let out, easy as breathing, “of course.” he placed a large hand on your shoulder, his thumb dancing on the edge of your collarbone.

“i’m a fan of you, too. more than anyone else,” you whispered with a step closer, your white ballet flats lightly knocking against the tips of his black boots, the space between you dwindling.

“aren’t i lucky,” remus murmured wistfully, “to have an angel say that about me”

with that you couldn’t take it anymore and pressed your lips to his, immediately getting lost in the sparks. unsure of what to do with your arms, you awkwardly placed them on remus’ forearms, as if you were holding him still in place. he smiled against your lips, the breath escaping from his chuckle dancing across your face as he lightly dragged your hands up his chest to rest on his shoulders.

you melted as he pulled you in, you gasped as he ran his tongue against your bottom lip, you chased after his lips when he pulled away with a stuttering breath. “y’have to give me a minute angel, or m’heart’s going to give out,”

you giggled, knowing exactly how he felt as he tucked his face into your neck.

“oi oi, c’mon lupin! what did i tell ya! i knew you could do it!” sirius shouted from across the room, thrusting his cup in the air in congratulations.

“oh christ,” remus muttered, his annoyance dissipating with your laugh.

“you are a lover, moony! borrow *hic* cupid's wings and soar with *hic* them above common ground!” james, although very drunk and hiccuping, recited.

all remus could do was roll his eyes, he had everything he wanted right in front of him. after he was done kissing you until the sun came up (and a little bit more after that), he could figure out when the fuck james seemingly memorized romeo and juliet.

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

bad idea, right? | f. odair

masterlist

summary: after receiving a late-night call from your ex-boyfriend, finnick odair, you can’t help but agree to meet with him. what happens when you mix a sound-proof train car and an ex you haven’t seen in months?

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: rough-ish smut, a teensy bit of angry sex, swearing, unprotected sex (zon’t zo that), kinda ooc finnick, choking,

notes: based on 'bad idea, right?' by olivia rodrigo. i lost the person who sent the request so sorry this took so long to come out!! i don’t know if i like how this is written, but smut is smut so… enjoy :)

word count: 4.6k

Neon beams of light pulsed in time with the heavy bass blasting throughout your unnecessarily large home in the Victor’s Village. District Two. Masonry. Big houses.

Two shots of tequila and some other very unnatural concoctions were soaking deep into your brain. Everything was swaying—the room, the people, even you. Your small group of friends danced by your side, keeping together to avoid the creeps that might have entered your home. Although, to you, entertaining a stranger that night did not sound like such a terrible idea.

You felt lonely. Undeniably and pathetically lonely. The alcohol only enhanced your emotions and libido, leading you to search the room for anyone who interested you enough to take them upstairs. But there was no one, because in reality there was only one person you really wanted, and he was no longer yours. He hadn’t been for months.

Replacements had come and gone, but they never stuck. None of them made you feel the way he did.

“Excuse me!” an exasperated voice yelled. “Would you please get out of my way?!”

To your right, your housekeeper, bless her poor deafened soul, was pushing through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers and heading straight for you.

“Claudia!” you shouted over the music, tugging down your short black slip dress out of respect for her modesty.

The elderly woman stopped in front of you, her disapproval of the vibrant scene clear as day. You always paid her double in exchange for putting up with the chaos whenever you threw a house party, which was almost every weekend.

She hovered close to your ear. “There is someone on the phone for you!”

“Did you get a name?!”

After she shook her head, you escorted her through the thick crowd of dancers, into a quieter room and thanked her before beelining for the landline.

With a heavy sigh, you brought the corded phone to your ear and said, “Whoever this is, you better make it quick. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as I need to be and in dire need of another shot.”

Over the scratchy static, you could hear a quiet chuckle—a sound you had spent months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it. How many drinks did you have again? The alcohol must have messed with your mind because this could not be real.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the caller said, his voice low and amused.

Everything you had longed to forget came rushing to the surface at an overwhelming pace. Wisps of hair the colour of a dying fire. Eyes resembling the sea. Arms that once acted as a life jacket. A dangerous mouth that had explored every inch of your body.

No. It couldn’t be—

“Finnick.”

********

Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. You were attempting to sneak out of your own party. A good old Irish Goodbye in your own house. With luck, you would make it out the front door without being caught by your friends, or worse, Claudia. Now that would be scary.

Water flushed through your system, a weak attempt you made at sobering yourself up because meeting up with your ex while drunk was a recipe for disaster. Then again, so was meeting up with your ex in the first place. Nothing will happen, you thought to yourself, we are just going to talk.

A thought even more unbelievable than thinking you would be able to be able to escape the watchful eyes of your friends.

Your high-heeled foot had just crossed the front door when someone called your name. “Damn,” you muttered, turning back around.

Valeria, your closest yet heavily intoxicated friend strutted over to you, her feet wobbling every few steps. “You sneaky little minx,” she slurred. “Someone said they saw you on the phone. It was him, wasn’t it? He asked you to go see him.”

“Just as friends. No, not even. As acquaintances.”

“Oh, my sweet, sweet silly friend.” She grabbed you by the shoulders. “We both know you aren’t that foolish.”

You looked away because you knew damn well that she was right.

“Look, I get it,” she continued. “Your hot, he’s hot.” You smiled. “You both have a history. I just want to make sure you know all the outcomes of what you're about to do. I’ll be here for you if things do get messy but expect a well-versed speech of me saying ‘I told you so’ afterwards.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Val,” you laughed, prying her hands off your shoulders. “I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise all we’re going to do is talk.”

“Alright, but if things go south, call me. Immediately!” she called a little too loudly as you took subtle steps away from the front door and onto the street. “Have fun with your innocent little ‘talk’!”

“Thanks, mum!”

You waved goodbye as you walked down the street, body buzzing with exhilaration and apprehension. Finnick had told you his train stopped in the district’s station for the night. He and his new victor were travelling throughout Panem for the Victory Tour and were currently in District Two. You didn’t know much about his tribute, only that they were a she. The thought of Finnick spending all his time with another girl had that green-eyed monster inside you writhing.

Enough to make you agree to meet with him after midnight while moderately drunk and slightly horny. What a fantastic plan.

District Two’s train station was a short distance from the Victor’s Village, but it was long enough to cause you to remove your heels. You finally reached the train, barefoot and with the wind softly blowing your hair. Finnick had specified a particular door to knock on so as not to alert the peacekeepers residing within the train. So, you knocked. And then you waited.

Your heart was pounding; your hands were trembling. Not long after, a dark figure appeared behind the door’s tinted window. With a click, the door opened and revealed a shirtless smirking Finnick Odair.

Oh, fuck me.

He was even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. His crossed arms bulged with thick muscles as he leaned against the doorframe, gaze shamelessly roaming over your scarcely dressed appearance before settling on your face. The amusement in his expression was ever-present and ever-growing.

“Finnick,” you greeted.

“Y/N.”

He extended his hand, inviting you inside the train and hesitantly, you accepted. Sparks of electricity travelled up your arm, starting from where his and your hand connected. Some things never changed.

Empty silence welcomed your presence as you entered the train car. Patterned silver vases of white roses were placed atop every available surface. Meticulously crafted chandeliers lit up the room with a golden haze. To your left was an arrangement of black leather couches surrounding a small silver table; further down the car was a rectangular mahogany dining table decorated with fruit and unlit candles.

Somehow a single train car was more luxurious than your entire house.

“Is every one asleep?” you asked, running your fingertips along the pure gold that lined the couches.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes following your movements. “Every room on this train is sound-proof, so...”

You nodded, unsure of how else to reply. Conversations usually ran smoothly between you and Finnick. They were effortless. But that was when you were together. Four months must have passed now since you last spoke.

“Are you and what’s-his-name still together?” he asked.

“No,” you said bluntly. “I broke up with him last month.”

“My sincerest condolences.” His sympathetic tone was as transparent as glass. Sarcasm always was his favourite pastime. “Guess he just couldn’t satisfy your needs.”

Turning around to face him, you leaned against the couch’s arm, jaw clenched and eyes glowering with agitation. “Is there any specific reason why you called me here?”

He raised a glass of rich amber liquid to his lips. “Can’t two old friends just reconnect?”

“Old friends,” you scoffed. “That’s what you call it. From what I remember, the last time we saw each other, we were having goodbye sex in your bed. And in the kitchen and the lounge and on the balcony.”

Something sincere overshadowed his teasing nature, revealing itself in the tension in his facial muscles and the glassy haze that clouded his eyes. Reminiscence. “It didn’t have to be goodbye,” he spoke softly whilst holding your gaze.

You blinked. There was a short pause and only the quiet hum of the lights sounded in the room. You were the one to end the relationship, not the other way around much to your friends’ disbelief. Over and over, you had been asked the same question: why on earth would you break up with Finnick Odair?

Well, behind closed doors, he was incredible. He was loving, affectionate, and thoughtful. He would collect seashells for you that he found on the beach whenever he went fishing, leave hand-written poetry and heartfelt love letters whenever he left for the Capitol, and mother of fucking Christ was the sex just downright extraordinary.

But as previously stated, it was all behind closed doors.

Finnick never wanted to be seen together in public and on the off chance you were, he would practically neglect your existence. Only your most trusted friends and Finnick’s family knew about your relationship. No one else. Eventually, the secretiveness created a deep void inside you that not even the sweetest love letters and seashells could fill. You couldn’t remain with someone who seemed ashamed to be with you in public.

So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.

In fear of becoming too emotional, you disregarded his weighted words and crossed your arms. “So,” you began, “how’s the Tour been so far? You must be pretty ecstatic one of your tributes actually won.”

He bounced back fairly quickly. “I suppose it’s always nice to watch someone you trained live for a change,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table. “Plus, she’s got a lot of charisma. A natural with the speeches and interviews, so I don’t need to do too much coaching.”

And there it was again—that green-eyed monster. “Charisma, huh?” You just couldn’t help yourself. “Is she pretty too?”

Finnick tilted his head, visibly surprised by your blatant jealousy. “She just turned sixteen,” he stated with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Well, no one told you that bit of information. Awkward. “Careful, Y/N. You sounded a little jealous there.”

You pushed off the chair, heading back toward the door you entered through. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Alright, I’m leaving now.”

Just as you turned the handle, a set of rushed footsteps thudded behind you. The door opened a mere crack, sending in a cold draft that caused your body to shudder.

“Wait, just—” A swift hand came over your shoulder and pushed the door shut, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips. You could feel Finnick towering over you, the warmth of his skin spreading onto your cold back and his breaths fanning down against the bareness of your shoulder. He was so close. “I just needed to see you before I leave tomorrow morning.”

Slowly, you turned around, coming face-to-face with the man you shouldn’t have loved. His burning gaze was a stark contrast to the icy metal door your back was pressed against. Tension pulsated in the small space between you and him. The intense attraction that had first brought you two together came rushing forth; trying to fight such a magnetic force was impossible. You needed connection—touch.

This night would not end with just a simple innocent chat, you knew that now.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “You needed to see me?” you asked. “Finnick, if you want me to stay, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want.”

Silence. He continued staring at you and you could see a scheme forming behind his mesmerising green eyes. Then the scheme was unfolding. He leaned down to your level, to your lips, his half-lidded eyes never leaving your mouth as he just barely allowed his lips to brush yours. On instinct, you tilted your head upwards.

“I want you,” he whispered.

You didn’t waste a second to respond. “Then take me.”

He was quicker than a bullet train. Finnick’s lips caught your own and were burning with fiery desire, evident in his haste to wrap you up in his arms and practically merge your body with his. Flames licked just beneath your skin, setting your nerves alight with passion and lust. You burned together in an inferno fuelled by each other’s touch.

Logically, this was wrong. Finnick was your ex-boyfriend and for good reason. But as your hands clung to every inch of him that they possibly could, as his tongue and yours danced fluidly with one another, and as your body buzzed with pure adrenaline, you were willing to abandon all your morals in exchange for five more minutes in his embrace.

A moan travelled from your mouth to his own as you felt him bite your lower lip. You could already feel that familiar throbbing sensation between your thighs and the wetness that exposed how much you craved him. You knew he felt the same. His sweatpants left little to the imagination.

Your hand slipped between your connected bodies, travelling down Finnick’s firm stomach, gliding over his small trail of hair and finally into his pants. Your fingers curled around his cock which already leaked with precum. He was just as desperate as you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound sending tingles down your spine.

You left his lips to press a wet kiss to his neck. “I wonder how many times you pretended your hand was my own,” you purred, leaving another kiss on his clavicle. “How many times you tried to recreate the warmth you only feel when you're inside me.”

His mouth hung open, letting out quiet uneven breaths as you stroked his length, your pace so quick that he already felt an overwhelming urge to release into your soft unrelenting hand. The sound of your voice, so sexy and lustful, combined with your swift pressured movements had his stomach tensing and contracting with a devastating build-up of pleasure.

“Too many times,” he admitted in a strained voice.

You sucked on the warm pulsing skin of his neck, this time receiving a groan that buzzed on your lips. His hands grabbed at your hips for support, roughly kneading the softness and satin in his large palms.

“This dress—fuck!” his voice broke as another hand slipped into his pants, cupping his balls as the other twisted with each stroke of his cock. “Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly. “You look like a fucking siren.”

Your soft lips pecked at his toned chest before pulling away and looking up at him through your lashes. Euphoric delirium was prominent in his eyes. “You should’ve seen everyone staring at my party,” you said. “I wish you saw how badly the men wanted to fuck me right there on the dancefloor; how they undressed me with their eyes. Maybe then you would understand the mistake you made by never showing me off.”

Aggravation blazed in his aroused eyes which only made you so much hornier. Before you could pump another stroke, Finnick had ripped your hands from his pants and spun you around, pinning your body against the wall with his own, his hard cock pushing against the plush of your ass.

“I do understand,” he growled into your ear.

He abruptly started sucking hard kisses onto the side of your neck which had you gasping for air and tilting your head to allow him further access. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it with rough fingers and pinching your peaked nipples between his fingertips. His other hand travelled around your hip, wandering beneath your revealing dress and slipping into your lace panties.

You cried out when two fingers plunged into your soaking hole without warning.

“Know what I wish?” he asked, fingers curling in and out of you at such a rapid pace that the wet noises could be heard throughout the entire room. Blissful tears threatened to spill down your face. “I wish those guys could see how you looked right now with my fingers fucking you.” The hand on your breast moved to your throat, applying enough pressure on your carotid to make your head pound with dizziness. “I wish they knew you only enjoy being fucked by me.”

Your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him even further inside. Your untouched breasts were squashed against the train door and the fabric of your dress rubbed against your sensitive nipples. Finnick’s cock twitched against you and his hand was constricting the blood flow to your head. Yeah. Nobody else could make you feel better than this.

Finnick plunged his fingers inside again with a hard thrust which forced a broken moan from your lips. “Isn’t that right?”

The heel of his palm dug into your clit and your entire body was overcome with pins and needles; your knees buckled and hit the metal door. That would definitely bruise. You hoped it would—you wanted a reminder of this night.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Finnick, only you. Only you.”

“That’s right.”

Your moans started to rise in pitch, signalling the orgasm which was rapidly closing in. But right before you could come, Finnick’s fingers slipped out of you and out of your now-drenched panties. Your orgasm began to fade due to the lack of friction until it disappeared completely, leaving you feeling frustrated and neglected.

Turning back around with a flushed face, you witnessed Finnick sucking your juices off his fingers with a pop. His grin was conniving, self-satisfied with his actions which proved how desperately you wanted him to fuck you. That smug bastard. You would give anything to wipe the amusement off his beautiful fucking face.

And, well, you did.

“Fuck you!” you exclaimed, shoving him backwards.

“Fuck me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. “I already know you want to.”

With a frustrated cry, you shoved him again, but this time he caught you in his arms and fervidly crushed his lips to yours. You squirmed and writhed and resisted but eventually melted into his embrace when you remembered you wanted this. You wanted this so badly.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as both your bodies continuously curved into one another, neither of you being able to remain still for more than a few seconds. The taste of brandy and you were on Finnick’s tongue as it swirled around your mouth; the flavours, which were polar opposites, sweet and savoury, mixed together to create something utterly carnal.

With the knowledge that this was probably a one-time thing, your kisses became bruising and frantic. Finnick alternated between kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw, and any place he could possibly reach. You hung onto every sound he made, every hot breath he took.

The two of you stumbled around the train car, lips never leaving one another, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh they could reach. You bumped into walls and multiple glass ornaments and laughed together when Finnick just barely caught one before it shattered on the floor.

Eventually, you ended up down the opposite end of the train car. Your back hit something hard and you gasped in surprise. The dining table. Finnick gave a quick glance at the table before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a little more tenderly.

“Turn around,” he said, and you did.

You immediately felt him press himself against your behind. You stared ahead, chest heaving and swollen lips tingling, waiting for any more commands. His hand walked around your thigh, over the mound of your pussy, and then grazed up your stomach. He left a trail of warm tingles between your breasts before continuing upward to move your hair from your shoulder where he placed another warm gentle kiss.

Finally, he splayed his hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushed, bending you over the table until your torso lay flat on the cold wooden surface. Finnick hiked your dress up to your hips and crouched down, caressing your outer thighs before sliding your panties down to your ankles.

The air hit your bare skin and you exhaled a shaky breath as you anticipated his next movements. As he rose to his feet, he trailed kisses up your leg, ending with a soft bite to your ass which earned him a small giggle.

You could hear him tug down his sweatpants which hit the floor with a muffled thud. Your breaths continued to shake with nerves, coming out in soft pants. Finnick held onto your hip with one hand and held himself in the other. No words were spoken. Both of you wanted this—needed this.

Next thing you knew, your panting breaths had stopped altogether. Finnick’s cock had slid between your folds, filling you up in one single movement, and you both released a relieved moan in sync. Your hands pressed against the tabletop as your body began to rock with his thrusts. You weren’t going to make love or whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. No. This was pure unadulterated fucking.

Finnick started off fast; neither of you had the patience for a slow build-up. You didn’t even bother caring about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom. His hand had lowered to your mid back and the other gripped your hip as your warmth swallowed him over and over.

“Oh god,” you gasped.

The sensations that overtook your body were eagerly welcomed. You had tried to replicate the sex Finnick gave with other men after your relationship ended, but none seemed to compare even the slightest. You weren’t sure how a single human being could provide the sensations of nirvana, how one could master the skills of bringing another person to such an incredible high, but Finnick could. He always could.

It was only at this point that you realised how badly your body had been in withdrawal from his touch. The feeling of him inside you was like a drug. Addicting. Definitely not healthy.

You had tried fingering yourself to replicate his cock, but it was a pathetic attempt. Finnick could hit a deep spot inside you that no one else could like it was some secret forbidden location that only he held the key to. He made your body feel full. Stuffed. Complete. In a way that made you feel like you were going to burst into an explosion of white heavenly light.

Your nails scratched at the wood as he continued to pound into you, cock gliding against the ripples of your inner walls. There wasn’t a single inch of space left inside you. He fit like your pussy was where he belonged.

“Always feel so fucking good,” he muttered between thrusts.

His pleasure was always vocal, voiced with heavy breaths, grunts, and groans. Sometimes he even whimpered, especially when you edged him. He didn’t mind you being more dominant at times, but right now was not one of those moments. Being bent over and fucked into a table was not in any way, shape, or form you being dominant. This was Finnick being in control and it felt incredible.

“Finnick,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”

In response he grabbed your other hip and pulled you back into him, burying himself even deeper inside you with each thrust which had you crying out his name again. He hunched over your body, hips still pounding behind you, and sucked harsh kisses on your shoulder. He left behind red and deep purple marks on your shoulder, moving to your neck, and then grazed your earlobe with his teeth.

He returned a hand to your throat, forcing the both of you into a standing position. His fingers squeezed, reducing the blood flow into your brain which enhanced the explosion building up inside you.

“Harder!” you cried.

Both his cock and his hand increased their vigour. Stars were sparkling in your vision. You were almost completely sober now, yet you felt entirely drunk. Drunk on Finnick. He reached his free hand between your legs and your body fell back into his, only remaining upright from his support.

His fingers rubbed side-to-side on your clit, so hard and fast that his hand almost blurred in motion. Your moans rose an octave as your stomach began to tighten. A fire burned within your muscles, so pleasurably excruciating that you thought they would liquefy inside you. Your pussy clenched around Finnick’s cock, walls fluttering with each of his pounding thrusts.

“Come, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear. You could hear how much he struggled to contain his moans as he talked. “Come on, I know you're close. I can feel you.”

You nodded mindlessly and curled your arm backwards around his neck, in need of something to cling to. As the feeling inside your stomach intensified, your eyes squeezed shut and your hold around his neck tightened until you were almost choking him. With every ounce of strength that he had inside him, Finnick increased his pace until he fit multiple mind-destroying thrusts into each second that passed.

He was almost animalistic with his pounding and unrestrained groans of pleasure. And you were so close, so, so close to falling over the edge. His hand was constricted around your throat; the other assaulted your clit, and his cock was mercilessly hitting that swollen spot inside you. Any second and—

“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”

A potent cocktail of pleasure, ecstasy, and release washed through your body, unravelling the tension inside your stomach and exiting through your stuffed hole. Your juices coated Finnick’s cock with warmth as you repeated his name over and over.

You could feel him twitching inside you, spilling himself onto your clenching walls whilst bending you over to senselessly fuck you into the table. His moans were so loud, so fucking attractive, but may God have mercy on both of you if the room wasn’t actually soundproof.

Neither of you could stop. You came an immeasurable number of times; your hands left marks on Finnick’s body as he did on yours, and every surface in the room had been tainted with your sin. You clung onto one another, desperately prolonging your night together that would most likely be the last. Ever.

*********

“Don’t leave again.”

Your fingers stilled as you strapped on your high heels. You glanced up at Finnick—who now had his sweatpants back on—from the gold-lined leather chair you sat in.

“Finnick…” you sighed.

“Please,” he said. Crouching down in front of you, he gently took your hand into his own. His face, which previously reflected nothing but pleasure, now looked at you with pained desperation. “I’ll explain everything to you. Why I was always in the Capitol. Why it was too dangerous for us to be seen together in public. All of it.”

The mention of danger took you aback. You had thought he never wanted to be seen together because he was embarrassed, not because it was… dangerous. Brows furrowed together, your eyes flickered between his, searching for any hint of deception, anything that might reveal malicious intentions. But when had Finnick ever been malicious towards you? Never. All you found in his eyes was sincerity.

“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, lowering his head.

After a few seconds of contemplation, you realised there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to walk out on him again. Life would mean nothing without Finnick beside you.

Your fingers sat under his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The two of you exchanged a look of vulnerability, signifying an era of newfound understanding and reconnection.

You whispered in response. “You’ve got me, Finn.” 

tags: @tayrae515

[frudoo]

I need the 141 as a group of slashers. Their shared wife gets harassed at the store and tells them when she gets home?

Might send more asks for slasher 141 if that's okay

You can ALWAYS send me slasher!141 ideas are you joking?!

Warnings: Mentions of sexual harassment (NOT by the 141), typical mentions of weapons and violence. Fem!Reader.

It’s pouring down freezing rain, the cold seemingly nudging past your skin and settling itself into your bones. Your hands shake as you fumble with your keys, letting out a defeated wail when you miss the lock for the fifth fucking time. Throwing your keys in your purse, you settle for knocking, then calling out that it’s just you. You’d rather not have one of your lovers answering the door with a machete to your throat. They always have had a flair for the dramatic. 

     It’s John who answers the door. Immediately he takes in your shivering figure and his bushy eyebrows furrow with concern. Scanning the vast land of the farm and finding nothing that could be perceived as a threat, he gently takes the purse from your hands. Strong arms hustle you inside and he kicks the door shut, working quickly to get you out of your sopping wet clothes. 

     “Darlin’, what happened? Why’re you cryin’?” John asks softly, hanging your coat on the rack—he can tell it’s bad by the way you flinch just from the question. 

     Simon, Johnny, and Kyle trail into the living room to greet you, but when they see your state, it’s like you can feel the tension in the air, ready to snap like a weathered rubber band. Simon comes to scoop you up, uncaring of the drenched clothes you still have on, and carries you up the stairs. He jerks his head to signal that everyone else should follow him. 

     While Kyle runs you a bath, John finishes undressing you, tossing your clothing into the hamper with a wet plop. You’re still shivering, tears streaming down your chilly cheeks, and it breaks their hearts. John cups your face in his big, warm hands, crystal blue eyes scanning for injuries or any reason you might be so spooked. 

     “You gonna answer my question, sweetheart? What’s happened?” 

     His voice is soothing, and you lean into the comfort of his touch. He always has been the best at calming you down, rich gravel filling your ears until you remember how cherished you are in his eyes. In all of their eyes. 

     “T-there was a man,” you stutter, head whipping around violently with your fist raised when Johnny wraps an arm around your waist to help you into the bath. “No!”

     “Hey, hey, jus’ me, hen,” Johnny’s eyes widen as he throws his hands up in surrender, backing away to avoid getting hit. 

     “I’m sorry,” you weep, covering your face with your trembling hands as Johnny tries again, this time successful in getting you settled into the warm water. 

     “Wha’ did he do?” Simon’s raspy voice sounds from the corner of the room, eerily calm. “Wha’ did tha’ fucker do?” 

     “The man… I-I was at the store to get groceries, but there was- he… he grabbed my ass and my tits and f-followed me out to the car. I drove away really fast so he couldn’t come after me, but… I’m sorry, I didn’t get the groceries.”

     “Oh, sweetheart,” Kyle frowns, gently reaching out to grab a hold of one of your hands. “The fuckin’ groceries are the least of our concerns.”

     You nod noncommittally, sniffling and just barely squeezing Kyle’s hand to let him know you appreciate the gesture. John’s jaw is clenched tight, and you can practically hear the rage brewing in his brain. Such a sweet thing traumatized by some stupid fuck who wanted his hands full of their soft, perfect girl. He wants—needs—to make him pay. John turns on his heel and just about rushes through the door, but your gentle voice stops him in his tracks.

     “John? Please stay,” you beg so, so prettily, pouty lips still swollen from how hard you’d been crying, and John’s far too weak a man to deny you. 

     Hesitantly, the captain trails back inside the bathroom, giving the other three a curt nod. They understand instantly, and Simon is cracking his knuckles so loud you’re almost sure the city can hear it. 

     “Bring the bastard back alive,” John commands, and faster than you can blink, Kyle, Simon, and Johnny are out the door.

     “I’m sorry,” you whisper, eyes focused on the ripple of the bathwater when you submerge your hands.

     John shakes his head, tilting your chin up so that you look him in the eye. He leans forward and nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours, a silent question. When you nod he leans in to kiss you long and slow, pressing his forehead against yours as the two of you stop to catch a breath.

     “No need to be sorry, sweet girl. You’ll get a turn on him soon enough.”

[reidmania]

WHY WAIT | Spencer Reid.

summary; reader works at a childcare and realises she wants kids sooner than she expected she would and struggles to admit that to Spencer after their agreement to wait a few years.

warnings; 16+, slight angst, a bit suggestive at the end. fem reader, childcare worker reader, mentions babies, wanting babies, avoidant reader, guilt, feeling scared to talk about emotions, talks about feeling empty, references sex, makeout, talks about trying for a baby. lmk if i missed anything

a/n ; i imagined this as post prison reid but literally any works

Your head is almost a foggy mess when you step into the bau office out of the elevator. Your hand grouped your hair before tying it up into a mess of a ponytail but you couldn’t find it to care as your eyes skimmed over the room for your husband.

You had finished work almost an hour ago, to where you were supposed to go out with Spencer for a date night — it was an unspoken agreement between you two that no matter how busy you were, at least once a week you would go out for a date night. It was important for your relationship because of how much Spencer was away.

Working at a childcare had its ups and downs, being vomited on, the headaches from toddlers screaming tantrums and annoying parents weren’t always the best or easiest thing to deal with — but you were doing what you loved.

The little letters or flowers you would be given by kids throughout the say, the big grins on their faces in the mornings, and watching their curious faces grow more and more was so rewarding. The job fit you perfectly it allowed you to be able to be nurturing and caring, like you were in your everyday life.

Normally you worked in the toddler room, which you enjoyed the absolute most, having little conversations, answering their hundreds of curious questions, and reading to them. A few weeks ago however, you had to take over the baby room because one of your coworkers were out sick and causing the baby room to be out of ratio of babies and adults, whereas the toddler room was perfect — you were able to help out, it had been a continuous thing, you would go in and help out whenever due to the low staff in the baby room, over the last few weeks you had spent many days in there.

Only it didn’t go exactly as you expected and not at all in a bad way, you had something about you that was so enhancing to little humans, their adored you — It was no different with the babies.

Only holding them and rocking them to sleep, feeding them bottles and watching them coo and smile made you think too deeply. You couldn’t stop your mind from travelling to the idea of kids of your own.

You and Spencer had talked about it, you wanted kids and he wanted kids, that was definite, but you both also agreed you would wait a few years until Spencer was ready to teach. He didn’t want to risk the chance of not coming home to you and his children — he didn’t want to leave you alone.

And you were completely okay with that. You worked around kids all day so there was no rush for you, you were completely content with the decision. Until recently.

Until it was all you could think about all day, and the entire way home, until you were laying in bed thinking about it, until everyday doing anything it felt like there was something missing, someone missing.

You smiled as your eyes laid on Spencer who was sitting at his desk finishing Paperwork, the only reason you were here was because he had some extra work to do and would be here later than he planned but he wanted to see you. So he called you once you finished and suggested you come here to hang out with him until he finished and then you would go on your date.

You walked up to him, hand gently brushing over his shoulder. He tilted his head to look up at you, the smile on his lips arrived almost instantly after seeing your face. “Hey” He smiled, hand reaching back placing itself ontop of your hand that was on his shoulder.

You repositioned your hand, clasping it over his own. “Hi honey” You leant down to place a gentle kiss on the top of his head. You could feel his thumb rubbing back and fourth over the back of your hand.

“How was your day?” He asked, shuffling around on his chair to be facing you completely as he swung your hands together gently, everything he did was so gentle. You couldn’t stop your mind from imagining him holding your baby in his arms, playing peekaboo with them.

Your mind didn’t stop there. You could just imagine your baby wrapping its small hand around Spencers ring finger where his wedding ring stayed. You could see it all playing out in your mind.

“Baby?” He said after your lack of response, noticing clearly your mind was elsewhere. You looked at him— you were looking at him before but you were really looking at him now, out of your daze.

“Sorry, What?” You apologise as you realise you had basically ignored whatever he was saying, making a small puddle of guilt flood through your stomach.

He tapped his knee, encouraging you to sit down innocently. You did so without question after he repositioned slightly in order to make it more simple and comfortable for you. His hand rested gently against your thigh. “I asked how your day was.” He said softly.

You hummed, turning your head in order to be facing him. “Good” You nodded — purposefully not mentioning any details, too scared you may go into too much detail. You and Spencer had agreed on a timeline for your future and you knew how important timing was, and you didn’t want to ruin that for Spencer just because you had a bit of baby fever.

Or what you passed off as baby fever.

“Yeah?” He muttered, hand raising to brush untied strands of hair out of your face. You nodded in response, leaning into his touch as he hand paused, cupping your cheek slightly. “How was yours?” You ask, you hand trailed behind his head to rest gently in his hair.

“Good, I missed you” He said, head leaning back slightly into your touch. You smiled at the little thing, how his body relaxed at your contact.

“I missed you too, Im sorry I had to leave early this morning” You left before he woke up, which wasn’t normally the case but you were called in because a parent needed to drop off a kid extra early.

He just shook his head, bringing your free hand up to place a gentle kiss to your wrist. You heard your name causing you to turn your head, you smiled widely as you saw JJ — looking very pregnant. It had been a while since you had seen her, last time being at the start of her pregnancy, she would’ve been just over half way now.

“Hi!” You smiled widely, lifting yourself off Spencers lap to wrap your arms around the blonde girl, she reciprocated the action, smiling widely. “Hot mama!! you’re looking great” You smiled once you pulled away, referring to how good she looked.

She chuckled softly, “Thank you.” She said, her hand coming down to her belly, rubbing it gently. Your mind traveled slightly to the idea of you in that position, before you brought yourself out of it.

“When you two gonna start a little family of your own? He will need a friend” JJ teased lightly, a smile on her face.

You smile as you thought about your baby growing up with JJ’s, the idea of them having little playdates while you and JJ could mutually support one another, before your smile slipped slightly when you realised that wouldn’t happen.

You tried not to show it in your face as you pushed out a rough chuckle, shaking your head. You looked over at Spencer who’s eyes were on you with a soft smile on his face, before you looked at JJ.

“Oh no, not for a few more years” You said, you wondered if she could hear the lump in your throat as you talked, a lingering feeling of disappointment taking over your stomach as you plastered a smile on your face.

She frowned, looking between you and Spencer. “You would make amazing parents” She said, gushing slightly at the idea. “Seriously you would be the best mum, wouldn’t she?” She asked, looking at Spencer.

Spencer stood up from his chair to rest his arms around your waist from behind you. You hated the way you slightly tensed before relaxing. “She would” He said, placing a tender kiss your temple.

You pushed out a laugh — it all hurt. In a way you couldn’t explain. It was as if they were taunting you even though you knew they weren’t. You wondered why the universe chose today for JJ to ask the question.

The feeling of loss returned, the feeling of something missing. It had been turning up randomly, doing the littlest things like washing the dishes, doing laundry or just laying in bed at night next to Spencer when he was home — it was worse when he was home. You couldn’t stop thinking about how much you craved your baby lying with you and him.

JJ smiled widely, “Don’t you want kids? Why wait?” She was almost joking, you could hear it in her tone there was a hint of seriousness lingering in it.

“We’re gonna have kids.” Spencer said as if there was no question about it. Your entire body tensed and you hoped Spencer didn’t notice it, you silently prayed he didn’t. “Just in a few years, when everything had calmed down a bit” Spencer said.

Your chest ached at his words more than you cared to admit. A few years, just a few years.

You didn’t know if you could wait a few years. The feeling was taking over every aspect of your life and it was already driving you insane — it had merely been a month.

JJ pouted dramatically as she looked at you, “You would make such a hot mum, full milf” She nodded as she looked you up and down, throwing in a gentle wink.

You chuckled, “I don’t know about that” You brought your hand up to your face, rubbing your cheek gently pushing a smile to your lips as JJ looked at her watch before sighing. “I have to go, how about we go for coffee this weekend?” She suggested looking at you.

You nodded your head smiling as she said her goodbyes before making her way out of the building. Spencer spun you in his arms turning you so you were facing him.

“You’re so beautiful” He said, thumb brushing over your cheek gently as he brought his hand up to your face. He leant down for a moment finally placing a gentle kiss on your lips now that the office was basically empty.

You laughed as you pulled away, “Okay boy wonder, finish up — im starving” You said. He smiled, leaning down to place another kiss against your lips, this one softer and quicker before he turned to sit down.

“Tell me about your day while I work” And you did, leaving out the parts that caused your heart to pull on itself.

The thought never left your mind that night, or any night after that.

“So much for our coffee date” JJ joked after you both ordered hot chocolates rather than coffee’s. You smiled widely at her, shaking your head slightly. “Coffee is overrated” You joked.

She groaned, “Im glad you think that, I’m hardly surviving. My obgyn told me I should cut back a little bit — which is all well and good till I actually had to do it” She said, you watched as her hand instinctively dropped down to her stomach.

There was a feeling in your gut, jealousy? Envy? You weren’t sure but you knew it was beginning to get harder to deal with. You just chuckled, “I could imagine”

The table fell quiet as your eyes dropped to the table, almost wishing you had the struggle of not being able to drink a lot of coffee because you were having a baby — you hated that.

“Alright, no more small talk. Whats up”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as you looked up at her. You pushed a laugh past your lips as your head fell to the side, “What do you mean?” You asked in confusion.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “You have been all… sad. You’re so sad. Why are you sad? I noticed it the other night at the office— Did Spencer do something?” She started out worriedly before becoming slightly defensive of you at the idea that maybe Spencer did something that upset you.

You laughed, “Spencer didn’t do anything. Spencer is amazing.” You reassured lightly. Although the pit in your stomach deepened — you knew exactly what she was talking about and no matter how much you denied it if there was one person able to get it out of you, it would be JJ.

“It was right after I mentioned you having kids… Do you not want kids?” She guessed, it almost made you laugh because it was exactly the opposite. “Does Spencer know?” She asked — everyone knew how much Spencer wanted kids of his own one day.

You shook your head. “I want kids.” You said but the words held more depth. You wanted kids, you wanted a baby and you wanted them with Spencer.

“I still don’t understand why you’re waiting.” She muttered shaking her head and she distracted herself from the topic at hand — which you would’ve been grateful for besides the fact she was now bringing up exactly what was wrong — waiting.

“Spencer couldn’t do it now” You muttered slightly under your breath but she caught it, furrowing her eyebrows she asked why.

You sighed, shrugging. “He loves his job and he wants to wait a few years before he starts teaching. We decided to wait” You said, you tried to hide the disappointment in your voice but that was useless when sitting across from a profiler.

“You don’t want to wait.” She realised, her lips pulling into a frown. You mirrored the look, nodding your head sadly. She huffed slightly.

“It’s alright, really. Its just working around kids all days, babies and toddlers really makes it difficult for me to just—“ You were cut off when your waitresses came to place yours and JJ’s hot chocolates on the table, you both thanked her before she walked away and you continued. “It just makes it difficult to ignore it.”

JJ nodded her head in understanding. “You shouldn’t have to ignore it! You know Im sure if you talked to him—”

You didn’t mean to cut her off, “He wants to wait. If i bring it up he will agree just because it’s what I want, I don’t want that.” You said, shaking your head as you looked down at the hot chocolate in your hands.

“He wants kids.” She said. You knew this but it felt nice hearing it again. “He wants to be a dad and he wants to have kids — with you. Of course he will do it if you want it, thats not a bad thing. He wants it to, theres ways to work around work — you just need to have a conversation about it” She said honestly.

You pushed a smile to your lips as you thought about her words, still there was an overwhelming amount of guilt in your chest. “Ill see how it goes” You say.

It had been two weeks since your ‘coffee’ date with JJ and you still found yourself unable to admit out loud to Spencer that you wanted kids now. He had been away on a case this week, which didn’t help you being alone with your thoughts — but it made it easier trying to hide the feeling of emptiness that had been present for weeks.

Not because of Spencer, he made you happier than you thought humanly possible. There was just something missing, you kept waiting for the feeling to go away but it never did. You kept waiting to be able to fall asleep at night without the feeling of longing for something more.

You were lying in bed, when you heard the front door of yours and Spencer’s home open and close. It was probably some outrageous time in the night. You had been lying in the same position for hours unable to fall asleep.

You heard footsteps you knew all too well coming towards your bedroom. The door opened and you turned slightly to look at Spencer who was tugging his tie off messily as he walked towards the bed, eyes widening when he saw you were still awake.

“Hi” He sighed tiredly, throwing his tie on the floor. As he began unbuttoning his shirt, after pulling off his suit jacket. “Im so glad you’re awake” He breathed out.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you sat up to look at him properly. His hair was a mess and he was rushing to get changed. He hardly finished taking off his pants before he was pulling on grey sweatpants leaving his top half naked as he got in bed next to you.

“Hi” You said.

He smiled, wrapping his arms tightly around your body as he pulled you in close to him, so much so you found yourself straddling his hips as he laid on his back. “Hi” He breathed out again.

You were confused. Of course you adored the affection — evidently he missed you but he was out of breath and you didn’t know why. You looked over at the clock seeing it was nearing three in the morning. Spencer never had this much energy this late at night — especially after being away for a week on a case.

Normally he would come home and just hold you. That was what he needed after being away. Just you in his arms.

“What-” you were cut off by him leaning upwards, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, you hummed slightly as you kissed him back, melting into the softness of his lips. His hand trailed down your torso before slipping under your shirt — which was actually his shirt.

You gasped as you felt his cold hands against the warm skin of your waist. His hands traveled up your back like a mad man — as if he could hardly get enough, he took your gasp into his advantage slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You made out with him for a few minute before pulling away, he chased your lips but you pulled back, “What has gotten into you?” You breathed out — chest rising and falling heavily as you worked to catch your breath.

He looked up at you, eyes full of an emotion you’d never seen on his face, one you couldn’t place. He let out a breath. “Let’s have a baby.”

You swore your heart stopped as your breath got caught in your throat. You were sure your pulse was going haywire as you tried to process what he said. “W-What? Spence.” You moved to slide off his lap, feeling a sense of hurt in your stomach.

His hands gripped your hips, keeping you in place. “Please.” He said breathily. “JJ told me” He said, looking so deep into your eyes. Your eyes widened and your lips parted as you sucked in a harsh breath. You felt a sense of betrayal from JJ but you knew deep down she was just trying to help you. She hated seeing you so.. Sad.

“Spence” You could cry. You swore you could cry.

“Im serious angel. Let’s have a baby. I want a baby.” He said, thumb rubbing over your hip sending a burning sensation to the place his fingertip brushed over.

You frowned, “But you wanted to wait.” You said.

He shrugged his shoulders, “So did you.” He muttered, leaning up to place gentle kisses down your neck.

You tilted your head instinctively at the feeling of his lips gently brushing over your skin. “But you shouldn’t change your- your mind just because I did” You sucked in a harsh breath as you felt his tongue brush over a sensitive spot of your neck.

“I want a baby with you. I want to raise kids with you. I want to be a dad to our children.” He said, pulling away to look at you. “If you’re ready Im ready, I’ll start teaching. I want a baby with you, now.” He said, looking into your eyes. He spoke genuinely.

“Really?” You asked.

He nodded, “Lets start trying.” He said, leaning back down to kiss your neck again.

“Right now?” You laughed out a giggle as your stomach swarmed with an overwhelming amount of happiness.

He hummed against your skin.

“Why wait?”

[dreamescapeswriting]

Too Far ~ LMH

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅PAIRING: Minho x reader

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - October 2024

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

Minho was always the same with you—sharp words, quick jabs, endless teasing, it was just how your relationship had been for as long as you could remember. His playful insults had always been something you could brush off, masking your feelings behind a smile. After all, you were in love with him, and a small part of you liked the attention that would come from him, even if it came in the form of teasing.

But recently, things have changed...a lot. Life was heavier, the weight on your shoulders making it harder to pretend everything was fine and yet you hadn't voiced it to him. You thought maybe he'd sense that you weren't in the mood lately and he would stop but he did.

Minho’s teasing didn’t sting before, but now… now it felt like someone was squeezing a lemon on a wound that was already raw.

Today had been the final straw. You'd finally snapped and had enough of everything.

You sat with the group, the usual chatter filling the room. Minho, as always, was sitting across from you, smirking like he always did when he was about to say something. And he did, some offhanded comment about how you always seemed to be distracted lately, how you weren’t even able to keep up with the conversation anymore.

"Maybe you’re just not smart enough to follow along?" he joked, the words light in his tone but heavy in their impact. It hit deeper than it should have, but being teased for your brain was always something that you'd gotten in school and it made you feel...small. Useless and insignificant to him. That coupled with the stress from everything else, the sleepless nights, the anxiety you hadn’t shared with anyone—not even him—it all bubbled up inside you, and for the first time, you couldn’t laugh it off.

"Maybe you should just stop talking," you snapped, your voice much sharper than you intended. The room fell silent, everyone turning to look at you in surprise. Chan stared at you in shock, he'd always been there telling you to stand your ground against Minho but you'd never do it...until now. Minho blinked, taken aback, scoffing softly as he tried to play everything off as a casual joke.

"Woah, I was just kidding."

"Yeah, well, it’s not funny anymore," you muttered, standing up quickly. You shuffled your stuff around until you gathered it all up, you couldn’t stay there, not with everyone’s eyes on you and Minho’s confused expression making it worse. Without another word, you left the room, your heart pounding as you made your way outside.

You didn’t hear Minho calling your name as you left.

"What the fuck was that about?!" Minho snapped at the others who all looked at him with sheepish looks. It was clear to anyone with a working set of eyes that you weren't in the mood for his games.

"She's had enough, Minho. God, last week I found her crying in her apartment." Felix grumbled and the comment hit him harder than he thought it would have. The idea of you crying because of something he said made his stomach twist and turn.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Hyung...In all due respect, I thought you hated her," Felix mutters a little and it was then that Minho realised just how far he had taken things. That if his own friends couldn't tell where the lines blurred then there was no chance in hell you would have been able to either and he'd fucked up...big time.

"I'll call her...S-She'll answer. She always does." He mutters, dragging his phone out of his pocket and calling you. That was one thing he could always rely on, you always picked up the phone no matter the time, no matter what day you answered him.

Except, this time.

You didn't.

It had been three days since the incident, and you’d been avoiding everyone—especially him. He’d tried to call, text, and even show up at your place, but you didn’t want to talk. You'd sent back all of the presents he'd sent to you and when the florist stated they couldn't take the flowers you donated them to a hosptial and the nursing home down the street.

You couldn't deal with anyone or anything right now. Especially not to him, no one who spoke to him because you knew that they would try and talk to you about it and relax you. Right now, you needed space and time to sort through everything without the added weight of Minho’s teasing hanging over you.

But it didn’t stop the ache in your chest every single time you thought about him. The desperate urge to run back there and forgive him like you always did in the past but this time you wanted to stand your ground. You wanted him to realise that the weight of his words had an effect on you.

But despite everything, you missed him. His stupid jokes, the way he made everyone laugh, the way he made you feel noticed, even if it was in the most frustrating ways. The way he'd always see you even when you thought you were invisible to everyone else around you. But you couldn’t forget the hurt he'd put you through. While he might have made you feel visible he was blind to everything else, he didn’t realize you were struggling and he never saw beyond his teasing to see what you were going through.

Meanwhile, back at the dorms, Minho was losing it. He wasn’t used to this—used to you being upset with him. You were always there, always able to take his jokes, always smiling despite his teasing. But this time… this time he’d messed up. And he had no idea how to fix it. Everything he tried to do failed. The bears were returned to the store, the florist told him you'd donated the flowers and the takeout he sent to you was always given to the homeless. Nothing was working.

The guilt gnawed at him, he found himself unable to sleep or eat. The more time passed, the more he realized how blind to what he was doing to you. He missed you, more than he cared to admit, and with that realization came another...something he hadn’t fully accepted before.

"You're dumb," Felix told him as they sat across from each other in the living room. Minho had just finished confessing all of the conflicting feelings he was feeling,

"How am I dumb?!" he snapped angrily,

"You're in love with her, you dumb bitch." Felix laughed a little and Minho sat there. His mouth open as he tried to deny it but the more he thought about it...the more he realised Felix was right.

He cared about you. More than just as a friend. More than just someone he could joke around with. He was in love with you...head over heels in love and now, he might have lost you because of his own stupidity.

That same night Minho found you at the park, sitting in the same spot you always went to when you needed to clear your head. It was the same park he would go to with you sometimes, you'd taken him one night when he needed to clear his head and he'd followed you blindly.

You didn’t see him at first, too lost in your thoughts about him, but when you did, you immediately stood up, ready to leave.

"Wait, please," Minho’s voice stopped you in your tracks. He'd been tempted to reach his hand out and touch you but he stopped himself, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. You turned to look at him, there was something different in his tone—something softer, almost desperate.

You hesitated but sat back down on the bench, your eyes on your hands as he slowly approached, stopping a few feet away, his hands shoved in his pockets like they always were when he was nervous.

"I messed up," he started, his voice quiet. You scoffed a little,

"Fucked up,"

"Yn," He chuckled softly, he hadn't realised just how much he'd missed your voice, even if it was just scolding him for something.

"I know I did. I didn’t realize… I didn’t know you were going through something." You looked away, your arms wrapping around yourself protectively.

"It’s not just about that, Minho. You always tease me, always make me feel… small. And I never said anything because I didn’t want to make it awkward. But I can’t take it anymore. Not right now." The rawness in your voice hit him hard, and his hands twitched at his sides, he wanted to reach out and comfort you but he forced himself to stay still. He’d never realized the extent of his teasing, how much it might have hurt you. He always thought it was just fun, that you were okay with it because you never said anything.

"I’m sorry," he said, his voice cracking. He knew that there was no apology in the world that he could give that would have made all of this better but he wasn't going to stop until you forgave him.

"I should’ve seen it. I should’ve been paying more attention, instead of just thinking I could joke around all the time. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never want to hurt you." You stayed silent, your eyes fixed on the ground. Minho took a step closer, his heart pounding, there was no way he could lose, not like this. Not when he finally understood how much you meant to him.

"I miss you," he admitted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. He'd been trying to think of what he was going to say to you but the words were lost on him, nothing felt as though it would be good enough to make up for what he'd done.

"I miss being around you, even if all I ever did was make dumb jokes. And… I’ve realized something else." You glanced up at him, and he took a deep breath.

"I’m in love with you...I don’t know when it happened, or how, but I know that’s what this is. And I’m sorry it took me hurting you to figure that out." Your breath hitched, eyes widening in surprise. You'd always dreamt of hearing this from him but this, of all the things you expected him to say,  wasn’t one of them.

"I’ll do anything to make it right," Minho continued, his voice soft and sincere. "I don’t want to lose you. Not like this...Please,"

For a long moment, you just stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. Part of you wanted to push him away, to hold onto the hurt and make him pay for hurting you. But the other part of you—the part that still loved him—could see how much he was trying. How much he meant what he was saying.

"I don’t know, Minho. I need time… to figure things out." He nodded, stepping back, respecting the boundaries that you were putting in place for him,

"I get it. Take all the time you need. Just… don’t shut me out forever, okay?" You gave him a small nod, and for the first time in days, a bit of the tension between you eased. It wasn’t fixed yet, but it was a good enough start for him.

After the first few weeks of your time in the park with him, you kept your distance, and Minho respected that, he didn't push you into anything you didn't want to do. There was no pressure, no sudden visits, just the space you asked for. But even though he gave you the time to think, Minho didn’t stop trying.

Day after day, there would be small signs that he hadn’t forgotten and was doing his best to grovel for you.

One day there was a bouquet of your favorite flowers at your doorstep. There was no note, but you knew it was from him, of course it was. It wasn’t grand like the last time. It was a simple bouquet and, just simple daisies, the ones you always loved but rarely treated yourself to.

The next day, there was a text from Minho.

I hope the flowers didn’t freak you out. Just wanted to remind you that I’m still here. I'll wait however long it takes.

You didn’t respond, but something about the gesture warmed your heart, even if you weren’t ready to fully forgive him yet.

He started showing up at your favourite café, but always at a distance.  You’d walk in, spot him sitting at a table across the room, and feel the familiar flutter in your chest. He never approached you, only offering a nod or a small smile if you caught his eye. But he was there. Every day.

Eventually, you texted him.

You don’t have to do this, you know.

His reply was quick.

I know. But I want to. xx

The distance between you began to shrink day after day, week after week and you found yourself lingering at the café, sitting just a few tables away instead of on opposite sides. Neither of you said much, but the quiet presence was enough for now.

He didn’t push, and that’s what made it easier to start letting the walls down with him, slowly letting him into your life again. One day, you finally agreed to sit with him, both of you sipping your drinks in silence for a while before Minho spoke.

“I miss talking to you,” he admitted softly. “Even if it’s just a dumb joke here and there. I miss… us." You didn’t know how to respond, but something in your chest loosened. The pain was still there, but it was obvious to you that it was in fact, fading.

By the time a month had passed, things had started to feel… normal again between the two of you. Minho was still cautious, still careful with his words, but the tension that had once hung between you had started to dissipate. He’d stopped teasing altogether, focusing instead on real conversations—ones where he actually listened.

One afternoon, as you both sat on a bench in the park, you finally brought it up.

“I think I’m ready to forgive you,” you said, your voice quiet but steady. Minho froze, his gaze snapping to yours, the food he was holding nearly fell to the floor and his eyes widened a little.

“Are you sure?” You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"You gonna try and talk me out of it?" you teased but he quickly shook his head at you, stumbling and stuttering over his words before you touched his hand,

“I’m sure. It wasn’t easy, but I’ve seen how hard you’ve been trying. You didn’t have to, but you did.” He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and he smiled at you.

“I don’t want to mess this up again. I’ll do better, I promise.” For the first time in weeks, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

"I believe you.” You whispered and he squeezed your hand gently, his heart swelling with relief. He knew there was still work to be done, but for now, this was enough.

Months had passed since that quiet afternoon in the park, where you’d finally forgiven Minho. Things had slowly but surely returned to normal between you two—only, this time, it was better. The teasing that once felt like jabs had softened, and Minho had become more mindful, more attentive.

He still had his moments, of course. That mischievous gleam in his eye would never completely go away, and you wouldn’t want it to. But now, when he joked, it came from a place of warmth, of care. He no longer crossed lines, and when he did slip up, he was quick to apologize. It was a kind of growth you hadn’t expected, but one that made your bond even stronger.

Tonight was special. The two of you were walking through the streets, the cool breeze brushing against your skin as the city lights twinkled above. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a quiet evening after a long day, but there was a peace between you two now that hadn’t been there before.

As you walked side by side, Minho’s hand slipped into yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that had become second nature. Neither of you said anything for a while, just enjoying the calm of the night and the comfort of each other’s presence.

Eventually, Minho broke the silence, his voice soft but teasing in that familiar way.

“So… you think I’ve been good enough to deserve a reward yet?” You shot him a playful look. A reward? What did he think this was? You couldn't help but giggle a little at him,

“A reward? For what?” He grinned, pulling you closer and wrapping an arm around your waist.

“For not being a complete idiot all the time.” You laughed, the sound light and easy, and it felt good. So good. It had been far too long since you'd been like this with him and he was lapping up every single minute of it.

“You’re still an idiot sometimes.” you teased,

“Yeah, but now I’m your idiot,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, making you roll your eyes in amusement.

“I guess that’s true,” you admitted, squeezing his hand, kissing his cheek softly,

“Lucky me.” The banter was light between you both and it was relaxing. You never felt stupid around him anymore, he never made you feel small. As you continued walking, Minho’s gaze softened, his usual teasing expression fading into something more sincere.

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I’m really glad you forgave me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost you.” You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder as you walked.

“Lucky for us, we'll never have to find out.”

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[distantdarlings]

HAVE ME // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.8K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* When you are paired with Cormac McClaggen for a mid-semester project, he takes it as an opportunity to shoot his shot. However, despite your numerous rejections, he doesn't seem to want to let up. That is until Theo gets involved.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT, depictions of violence (a small fight, specifically), blood described very briefly, Cormac is hitting on reader and won't leave them alone, language, oral sex (perf. on reader), kissing, dom!Theo, fem reader, not proof-read

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Hotel - Montell Fish

---

The chatter around the classroom slowly dwindled as Professor Snape silently slipped through the door of his office. Everyone was waiting patiently for the results of his decision from yesterday. He mentioned that the mid-semester project would be partnered rather than solo. To you, that was bad news, but to others in the class, it was good. You worked best when you didn’t have to sort out the ideas getting bounced around aloud. But if you had to work with a partner, please let it be someone halfway decent.

“So,” Snape starts, “I have here the list of partners for the mid-semester project. As a reminder, you will be handling very toxic materials, so for the sake of all of our time, be careful with them.” His expression hinted at boredom, despite the unfortunate things he was referencing. Last year, someone nearly lost a hand with this project, and—to be quite honest—that was one of the reasons you were so excited about it. You liked the challenge and, even better, overcoming it. But you couldn’t do that with a shitty partner. Your fingers crossed beneath your open notebook.

“Malfoy with Weasley, Berkshire with Granger,” he began listing the names. Your hips shifted uncomfortably. He was pairing everyone with the opposite house. Surely he’d grant you some mercy with how well you’d been doing in this class?

“—Nott with Finnigan—” Your thoughts were briefly interrupted as Theodore’s name was called. That was an interesting pairing; however, you knew that Potions was one of Theo’s strong suits, and, granted they worked well together, the both of them would successfully keep their eyebrows intact. 

Your eyes found the older boy, tracing over every line on his face. You were friends, pretty good friends. His whole group of Slytherins were friendly with you, really. But there was something about him that had shocked you to your core from the first night you’d met him and started chatting at the Sorting ceremony when the both of you were eleven. He was quite literally one of the most attractive people you’d ever seen, and it seemed like he knew it too. The way he held himself down to the way he communicated with people, he just knew he was alarmingly alluring. 

He had a way of staring right into your eyes when you spoke to him, almost to the point it felt as if he was reading your mind. No matter what, he’d give you his full attention, even more so than his other friends, it seemed. Maybe you had always imagined it, but if you called his name, he was there. He would be waiting with his ear next to your lips, eager to hear what you had to say, no matter how you were feeling. Perhaps it was cliche, but you felt as though you could tell him anything, and you did. 

His eyes found yours suddenly. His lips parted into a crooked smile, his dazzling white teeth peeking through slightly. You returned the action, raising your eyebrows in an amused fashion at his partner for the project. He shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. He pointed at you and mouthed, ‘You’re coming up.’ You rolled your eyes and laughed silently as you brushed him off. You were laughing, but, in all seriousness, this wasn’t a comedic matter. Your Potions grade was potentially on the chopping block here, and you were getting nervous. Snape didn’t grade depending on who did what; he simply graded on the project's legitimacy. You could do this by yourself, but if whomever your partner ended up being fucks it up, you both were screwed. And, on top of it all, you would have to work with a Gryffindor, someone you likely barely knew. Perfect. 

Your name perked your ears as Snape paused for a moment, trying to decipher his own handwriting. Merlin, was he trying to tease you? You glanced around, wondering who hadn’t been selected yet. You hadn’t been paying attention. “Ah! With McClaggen.”

Your heart sank. You turned to glance over your shoulder at the showy Gryffindor sitting in the back corner of the classroom. He sent a wink and a small smirk your way, to which you replied by quickly turning back around. Did the universe hate you? It must. That was the only answer. Shit.

“Get to work,” he instructed, returning to his office and firmly shutting the door behind him. You weighed out the options in your head on how angry Snape would be if you asked to switch partners. You were sure he picked them for a reason…or maybe he didn’t? Merlin, help. Should you even bother with this? Maybe you could convince McClaggen to let you do all the work. He could sit patiently by and be quiet.

The classroom bustled gently as students were standing and finding their partners. Small groans echoed as everyone paired up. Apparently, you weren’t the only one that disliked your partner. Usually, you wouldn’t have expected Professor Snape to have paired Gryffindors with Slytherins. Who knew? Maybe he was trying something new.

You hid a wince and got to your feet. You collected your notebook and school bag and made your way over to the smirking boy. His hands were placed cockily behind his head, and one leg rested, crossed over the other. He maximalized every bit of space he took up, like a peacock. You repressed a groan and sat down in the seat next to him, neatly spreading your things out. 

“Well, hello,” he cooed. “I don’t think I’ve spoken with you before.”

“I don’t think so either,” you chuckled nervously, eyes finding the back of Theo’s head. He sat towards the front of the classroom, partnered with the clumsy Gryffindor. You wondered if he was having the same doubts you were. As if on beat, his head turned and made eye contact with you. He hid a smile at your current predicament and gave you a small wave with his fingers. You rolled your eyes and, with the hand farthest from McClaggen, pretended to choke yourself with it. Theo laughed aloud before turning back around when his partner tapped his shoulder.

“What’s so funny?” your partner asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Nothing,” you smiled, “how about we get started?”

Most of the class period was spent discussing the potion the two of you wanted to brew. The assignment was to pick one of the most difficult potions to brew and to make and document the experience successfully. All of the potions you were to choose from were in the very last chapter of your textbook, and the two of you flipped through the pages, unsure. 

Every so often, Cormac (you’d learned his first name was) would point at something on one of the pages and scoot ever so closer to you. He was so close now you could smell the peppermint candy he swished around his mouth. His arm rested alongside the back of your chair, and you were…immensely uncomfortable. Your back straightened so as not to come into contact with his arm. 

Throughout this whole experience, you’d glance Theo looking back at the two of you every so often and wonder if you could signal him to distract the boy. It wasn’t that you felt threatened; you just wish he’d back the hell up. If you had a personal bubble, it had long since combusted. His face was so close to yours, and no matter how far you leaned away, he’d get closer. Finally, you’d had enough.

“Cormac,” you laughed nervously. You placed one hand on his chest and slowly pushed him back toward his own seat. 

“What is it?” he asked. No matter what you did, that stupid smirk never failed.

“You are very close to me,” you explained, trying to remain as polite as possible. He shrugged and chuckled a bit, gaining on some of the space you’d placed between the two of you. 

“Well, that’s because I want to get closer to you,” he said. 

“Uh, no,” you tittered, “that’s okay. Let’s just do the project.” You tapped the textbook and pretended to immerse yourself back in the information, hoping he’d let it lie. He didn’t. His arm wrapped back around your chair, and your eyes slipped close in exasperation. 

“Cormac, please—”

“What? Don’t you want to get to know each other before we do a project together?” he asked, scooting closer yet again.

“No, I really don’t. I just want to get this done.” His face resumed its previous proximity to yours. He smirked at the closeness and you sighed, turning your face away from his, begging Theo to glance back again.

“Oh, I see…is he your boyfriend?” Cormac asked. Your face shot back to his.

“What? No! He’s just a friend,” you said.

“That was a very quick, rushed answer,” he laughed, “but if you say so, that’s even better for me—”

“Please, let’s just do the assignment,” you pleaded, “I’m really not interested.”

“Not even for a trip to Hogsmeade?”

“No, not really, you’re not my type.” You glanced back at Theo. He was finally looking back. Only this time, his eyes were locked on the boy beside you, with his face so close to yours. His eyes gleamed blood red, and his jaw clenched tightly. Your eyebrows furrowed, begging him to intervene somehow. If Cormac wasn’t too embarrassed to shoot his shot in the middle of class, surrounded by his peers, you were almost positive he’d continue to harass you outside of the classroom. Maybe even when the two of you were alone, and he might not let up at that point.

“What is your type?” he asked. “Brooding assholes in Slytherin?” He said this part a bit louder, making direct eye contact with Theo. You could feel the tension building slightly, and did your best to diffuse the situation. You partially blocked their gaze of each other.

“Please don’t say that about him.”

“I thought you said he wasn’t your boyfriend. Why are you defending him?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, but he is my friend, and I’d like you not to call him names,” you spoke sternly, eyes hardening on the boy. He was plucking the last strings of your patience. 

“Fine, I will—” you nodded at his promise “—if you let me take you to dinner.”

The bell signalling the end of class interrupted the conversation. Thank Merlin. You quickly gathered your things together and shoved them into your bag, praying he’d just drop the subject and let you move on with your day. You’d figure out a way to deal with him later. For right now, you just wanted to get your free period started as soon as possible. He stood right when you did. You ignored him and made for the exit, walking as quickly as looked natural.

You were the first out of the classroom and down the hall, trying your best to get away from him without completely abandoning Theo. A hand grabbed your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. It roughly spun you around, yanking a yelp from your throat. You stood before Cormac, who had a sinister look on his face. 

“You never answered me,” he said. “Let me take you to dinner…”

“No, Cormac, I don’t want to go,” you said, attempting to wrestle yourself out of his iron grip. What about your thousand answers was he not grasping? 

“Let go of me.” His hand did not release you, and it did not seem like he intended to, either. You slipped your hand between his and your shoulder, trying to edge it off. He made a sound of endearment before attempting to slide a hand around your hips. You squealed and squirmed away from him, trying to prevent him from wrapping his arms farther around you.

“Hey!” A voice shouted. The both of you began to turn, but before Cormac could get his head fully pivoted, a hand appeared on his shoulder and yanked him away from you. It was Theo, and he appeared to be fuming. His jaw was tightly clenched, and his eyes were wild.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, McClaggen?” he demanded. “She said no, you dick!”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business. She said you weren’t her boyfriend,” the younger laughed meanly, poking him roughly in the chest. You winced at the contact. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he hissed, pushing the boy back from him. Cormac stumbled a few steps before regaining his footing. It appeared he was as surprised as everyone else was at the sudden hostility. Cormac laughed cockily. 

He raised a hand and swung his fist at Theo as hard as he could, getting a good hit in. Theo’s head jerked to the side from the force of the punch, and you gasped sharply, hands shooting to cover your mouth in shock. Natural instincts told you to jump back, but you rushed toward Theo, who pushed you back gently behind him, squeezing your arm firmly. It didn’t hurt, but you knew it meant to stay put. 

“Come on, Slytherin!” Cormac shouted. “Show me what your reject house is made of!”

A crowd of other students had begun to gather around the two boys, curious to see what all of the commotion was. Adrenaline pumped through your veins like ice water as you watched Theo approach the other boy, cocking his arms and wringing any stiffness out of them. 

Before you could feel the exhalation of breath leave your body, Theo swung his arm at the boy, cracking him hard across the jaw. As if in slow motion, Cormac fell back and hit the ground with a hard thud. You imagined his tailbone would be quite bruised tomorrow morning. 

Theo fell down on top of the boy, legs resting on either side of his hips, and wailed on him. Fist after fist hit the boy’s face, pushing more and more blood out of him. You screamed in shock as you realized Theo had no intention of stopping. Around the same time you did, everyone else did too. They began throwing shouts of concern and pressing in on the two boys. Everybody loved a good fight now and then but nobody wanted to see someone get killed. 

Yet, nobody put their hands on Theo for fear of being in the same predicament as Cormac currently was. That was, until Enzo and Mattheo ran up behind the crowd. You heard them ask if that was Theo.

“Enzo!” you shouted his name, waving over the crowd. His eyes quickly found yours and in seeing the distress on your face, began weaving through the crowd. Mattheo quickly followed suit. 

When they breached the barrier of the crowd, their eyes widened, and they made for their friend. They grabbed his shoulders and pulled him away from the poor boy, his face a mangled mess. You looked away quickly, not wanting to see the damage that had been done in your favor.

Once pulled away, a gathering of students ran over to Cormac and covered him with a wall of their protection, trying to see if they could help him somehow. You turned to Theo, who was breathing heavily, a single dripping of blood pouring from his nose. You turned to the bottom of your uniform shirt, found the edge of the seam, and tore a small section of it. You could get a replacement sometime later.

You approached the boy with a murderous gaze and gently pressed the piece of shirt beneath his nose. He flinched slightly but never looked away from Cormac. Maybe that hadn’t been for you, and he’d just wanted to beat Cormac’s ass—which is understandable, but still. You weren’t totally sure why he did it.

“Theo?” you spoke gently. His glare didn’t waver. The fingers pressing the material against his bloodied nose tilted his face carefully to look at you. His eyes found yours, softening slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his chest heaving. “I couldn’t stand him touching you like that.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured. He didn’t seem convinced. How he looked at you with such concern and worry made you wonder if he thought you were mad at him. You shook your head at the question running through your mind. Obviously, he didn’t know what you had been thinking, but you hoped he’d understand somehow. 

You helped Enzo and Mattheo pull him to his feet and escort him away from the crowd before any of the professors showed up. Speaking of which, they likely should have been out here by now. 

As you helped the boys guide Theo toward the Slytherin common room, you were careful to avoid any obvious eyes that raced past them to see what the aftermath of the commotion was. Hopefully, nobody would notice them and they could deal with the whole situation later. The group turned the corner and stopped before the entrance to the dorm room. Enzo announced the password, and the lot of you headed inside, pulling Theo up the stairs and into the boys’ dorm room. He pulled away from them suddenly and sat on his bed.

“Alright, alright, I’m okay!” he declared. “I just got a sock to the jaw; my legs weren’t broken.”

“They’re just trying to help, Teddy,” you whispered, trying to place the cloth back on his nose that had started up its intermittent spurting again. He sighed and gently grabbed your wrist, holding it away from his face. He was never rough with you, despite how angry he was.

“I’m fine, I’m just wound up, I don’t need any of you to—”

“Nonsense,” you interrupted him. “Mattheo, Enzo, would the two of you mind running down to the hospital wing and asking Madam Pomfrey if she has anything to stop the bleeding. It’s not excessive, but it’s messy.”

“Is there not a spell or something like that?” Mattheo asked, clearly concerned for his friend.

“Not one that I know off the top of my head. Would you just go ask her, please?” you repeated yourself. The two boys seemed to hesitate but eventually worked their way out of the room with their destination in mind. Once they were gone, your eyes turned back to Theo’s. An amused glint lay suspended in his eyes.

“‘Nothing that comes to mind?’” he smirks. “If a spell comes to my mind and not yours, the world must be upside down.” You conceal a laugh. You knew a spell. You knew multiple healing spells, but you wanted Mattheo and Enzo out of the room for a second. You just wanted to speak with Theo about what had happened. 

“I’m sorry I lied to your friends,” you said. “But I really wanted to talk with you privately, and I didn’t want to wait.” His eyes keep a tight hold on yours. You swallow thickly. 

“Okay, what is it?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Anxiety pools in your stomach as you realize you hadn’t really planned anything to say. You wanted to know why Theo had done what he did and if it was for or because of you. Cormac had been bothering you, yes, but it could have just been that Theo really disliked him and wanted to intervene. 

“Why did you do that?” you ask. Probably the worst way you could have asked that, but it was what came out. You might as well own it at this point. 

“Do what?” he mused.

“Why did you stop Cormac?”

“That feels like a dumb question. He was laying his hands on you without your permission.”

“Would you have done that for anyone, though?” you stuttered through your interrogation.

“I suppose not….why do you ask?” he asked, the smirk never leaving his face. Your eyes fell down to his lips suddenly, noticing that there was a small amount of dried blood stained across them. A small gasp left your lips as you reached your hand out. You didn’t think through any of the following movements; you just allowed your body to do as it pleased. Your fingers gently cradled his jaw, and your thumb swiped slowly over his lips, collecting the bit of staining as it crossed. Your eyes found him again, and you realized he was intently watching you. His eyes were softened by hunger. The way they traveled down to your lips, his lips parting as he found yours, his hands clenching by his side. It sent a chill down your spine. 

“Theo,” you breathed. You could not pull your eyes away from his swollen lips. You wanted so badly to learn their taste and memorize it for eternity. Just one kiss and you could be satisfied for the rest of your days. 

“I kicked Cormac’s ass because he was laying his hands on you, and I have been desperate to do that for years…,” he whispered. “The difference between him and I, though? I ask permission.” A glimpse of a chuckle spreads over his lips, and you feel your stomach blush with heat. As if he could feel it happen to you, his nose bumped softly against yours, igniting the heat and transforming it into a flame. 

“I want you so bad,” he whispered, the air skimming your lips. “Please let me have you.”

“Have me, Teddy.” Your response was final. His hands gripped each side of your face firmly and pressed your lips together. Heat and light and everything in between exploded into your stomach, sending shocks of love into your heart. You could have melted on the spot, and you nearly did, if it weren’t for Theo wrapping one arm tightly around your waist and holding you up.

His tongue slid over your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You granted him access to every part of you with no push-back. All you wanted was to feel him everywhere and never to lose that feeling ever again. 

The both of his hands pushed around the back of your thighs and pulled them to either side of his bent knees. He settled you neatly onto his lap, you straddling his thighs against the bed. The action sent a lightning bolt of pleasure directly to your core as the space between his thighs urged gently against you. You sighed against his mouth, entangling your fingers into his hair. 

Everything about him was overwhelming. His smell, his taste, and his touch had you gasping for air. You had never realized how much you truly wanted him until this very moment. Without so much as a breath, he cradled your back with one hand and stood from his bed, lifting the two of you into the air. You squeaked from the sudden movement but relaxed instantly when he settled you against his bed. 

His lips detached from yours and quickly made alliance with your jaw and then your neck. His head worked down the frame of your body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to every sliver of skin he could find. When he reached the waistline of your uniform skirt, he tapped his finger twice against the spot where your shirt was tucked in. You nodded so quickly, it was almost pathetic. He smirked and slipped his hands between the materials. He tugged your shirt out and began laying the same types of kisses over your bare stomach. You groaned at the feeling, noticing the ardor he placed into each press of his lips. You felt worshipped and it was addicting.

His eyes flicked up to find yours as he slowly pushed himself farther down, placing himself just in front of your core. Without question, your legs began to spread for him, allowing him access to anything he wanted. You just needed to feel him; you didn’t care what he did. 

Your eyes found his face once more and scanned over the entirety of it. A deep, sinister glance rested in his eyes, holstering a lust so dark, it almost frightened you. His lips were slightly parted in a teasing, smirking way, just waiting to place themselves against you once more. And his nose had…oh, it had begun to bleed again. You reached down and swiped your thumb beneath it, pushing the excess discharge away. A small twinge of guilt hit you again at the thought of Theo getting himself hurt for you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, frowning at the sight before you.

“You never have to apologize to me,” he breathed, “you are perfect.” And with that, he’d flipped the edge of your skirt over your legs and sunk his face between them. His tongue found your core before you could even get a word out. A breathless moan spilled from your lips as your spine arched off the bed. Your hands immediately pushed down to wrap themselves in his curls, savoring every single swipe of his tongue. 

“So fucking good,” he moaned against you, the vibrations sending messages up to your very brain. You quaked beneath the feeling, your thighs shaking against the boy’s hold on them. It was nearly becoming too much. You weren’t going to last much longer. If he wanted to do something, he’d better get to it.

“Theo, I’m…c—”

“Not yet, baby,” he whispered, pressing two chaste kisses to the inside of your thighs. You could feel the wetness spread across his lips and chin smear against your flesh. You shuddered at the sensation. It definitely should not have turned you on as much as it just did. “I want it on my tongue.”

He separates himself from you and slides his hands beneath the crook of your knees. With a firm grip, he yanks you to the edge of the bed, where your hips are lying just over the curve. His hands find your hips and flip you over onto your stomach, careful to avoid hurting you in any way. Ever so gentle.

You could hear him kneel down again behind you. Your thighs shook in anticipation just before he pressed his lips back to you. His tongue swirled across you in the most delicate of motions, drawing every sound possible from your lips. Your fingers gripped the sheets as each of his movements drew you closer to the edge. You might finish any second. 

“Hey-o!” Mattheo’s voice came from just outside the door. You jumped up and glanced back at Theo as the both of you separated as fast as possible. Theo came up to sit beside you on the bed and made quick work of wiping his mouth off on his sleeve. You pulled your skirt back over your legs and stood at attention, waiting for the two boys to enter. Damn it. You had been so close. 

The two boys walked in, clutching a small vial of liquid. Mattheo raised it to show the two of them, both of whom quickly nodded, smiling innocently. Surely, they wouldn’t suspect anything of the two of you. You’d never really expressed any feelings toward the other before now. At least not publicly.

“Where do you want this?” Mattheo asked.

“If you would just take it to the bathroom, we’re headed in there so they can help me clean up the rest of the way.” Both of the other boys nodded and headed back out the way they came, moving toward the group bathroom. 

Just as they left, Theo slipped his hand beneath your skirt and traced his fingers along you, allowing one to insert itself to its hilt. You gasped sharply, trying your best to mute the sound. His hand began to pump against you, slowly rising in speed as he hit that perfect spot each time with ease. The sounds spilling from your lips became less and less controlled as he pushed you towards the edge, keeping you standing tall and refusing to let you lay back down on the bed.

“Come like this, baby,” he whispered. “Quickly, before they get back.” His finger pressed deeply up into you one last time, bruising the soft spot and forcing a rushing finish down on you. Your lips parted in a shocked moan as the proof of your end slipped down around Theo’s fingers. He worked you through the entirety of it, never tiring and never halting. He could do this all day. 

The sound of his friends heading back toward the dorm room pushed the two of you apart once again. Only this time, Theo had a telling, lustful expression imprinted on his face, and the remains of your ecstasy were still painted across his fingers. You swiped a hand between your thighs in an attempt to clean yourself off and brushed any concerns from Mattheo or Enzo off. The ‘Are you okay?’ and the ‘You guys look weird’ had nothing on the steel resolve the both of you kept planted on your faces. If Theo could fight someone for you, you could fight the urge to tell his friends he’d just let you fuck his face while they were out running an errand. Oh well, such is life. You laughed to yourself. 

[alexiroflife]

"drunk wishes"

[part 2]

fluff, clingy gojo, friends in love

high school!gojo satoru x reader

Synopsis: years ago, satoru's habit of drinking on school nights constantly led him to ask for you, desperate for your company. of course, you couldn't blame his constant need for you on anything but the alcohol... right?

to sum it up: seventeen year old satoru was a clingy drunk & suguru and shoko always left him for you to take care of

WC: 5,665

Warning(s): alcohol use

The second your phone rang, screen lighting up to reveal the group picture of you, Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko squeezed into frame, you knew that the book you were currently halfway through would have to wait.

With a sigh, you tossed the book to the side and picked up the group call, dreading whatever was about to greet you next.

Shoko’s contact bubble was blank, for she was likely asleep at this hour. Satoru was the first to stick his head into the camera, followed by a pending bubble from Geto that eventually revealed his exasperated expression.

“(Y/n)!” Satoru slurred, grinning cheerfully into the phone. His snowy hair and bright eyes peering over round glasses were the only thing in frame as he stared intently down at his screen. The scene behind him was dark. It looked like he was standing outside somewhere, and it took you a few seconds to notice that Geto’s background resembled the very same place. “Where’re youuuuu?” 

You pursed your lips in amusement, entirely too familiar with this situation. “Hi, Toru. How are you feeling?”

“Amazing, now that I get’to see y’er pretty face,” he grinned, his persistent flirting doing very little to surprise you. “D’you know that new bar down the street does’t ID check?!”

“No, I didn’t know that. You had some fun there, huh?”

“S’much fun,” he sighed, words blurring into each other. “But then I got bored, s’we went to th’ store ���nd got snacks. Isn’t that right, Sugu-boo?”

His phone shook with the wobbling of his feet, revealing his black haired best friend standing close by as he turned to look over his shoulder at him. 

You held back your laugh, glancing at the time to see that it was nearly two in the morning. Not only that, but the three of you in addition to Shoko had class in about six hours. Why the hell those two were out this late, you had no idea, but you couldn’t have said that you were surprised. After all, they did this at least three times a week, per Satoru’s influence, of course. 

Suguru shook his head with a tired exhale, holding the camera down. “He’s driving me insane,” he grumbled, brows angled with irritation.

You were quick to move from your bed and shuffle across your dorm to grab a sweatshirt. You already knew where this call was leading. “What the hell are you guys even doing?” you asked. “You know what time it is, right?”

“Yeah, we do,” Suguru hissed, turning to eye a babbling Satoru. You could see the black haired boy’s eye twitch. “But someone dragged me out of bed because he didn’t want to be out alone.”

“Figures,” you laugh. “Where are you now?”

“The convenience store around the corner,” he answered. “We’re literally five minutes away, but Satoru said he wasn’t going to walk any further unless you were here.”

The said boy raised his phone up over his head, the camera peering down at the two tall men from a high angle. Satoru’s eyes went wide and mouth gaped in childlike awe, as if he were showing you some whimsical discovery through the lens of his camera. He dangled a small bag in his free hand, showing off his haul. 

“Look, (Y/n)! C’me see what we got you ‘nd Shokoooo! Suguru, sh-show her y’re stuff,” he urged, a lazy smirk dancing across his face. He nudged Suguru in his chest, the contents of the strongest student’s bag knocking against his best friend repeatedly. A vein bulged in Suguru’s forehead. His bedtime was supposed to be two hours ago, and he was steadily growing more agitated. 

“I’m gonna kill him, (Y/n). Please come take him off my hands.” 

“What about me, huh? I could’ve been asleep, you know. Or studying, like how you two are supposed to.”

“Oh, shut up. I know you weren’t doing anything important.”

You glared at him through your screen. “This is how you treat me, huh? The designated walker for when you get tired.”

“You know how it goes,” Suguru smirked lightly. “Satoru’s needy.”

“(Y/n),” he groaned. “Sugu doesn't love me anymore, s’you have to come take care of me the way- y’know how-to- how you always do,” the blue eyed seventeen year old droned on dramatically. “Pleeeaaaaaase, I miss youuu-”

His singing was disrupted with the tumble of his phone from his hand to the ground, the device hitting the pavement with a smack. His screen went black after landing face first and you watched Geto look down at Satoru boredly, for he had likely been expecting just that to happen. 

Satoru gasped loudly, bending over to retrieve his phone clumsily. Suguru panned his camera to show the sight to you, the white haired boy’s long legs spread stiffly as he leaned from his torso to pick up his phone. “(Y/n)! NOO! M’so sorry!” he cried out.

There was shuffling on his end and a dizzy spin of the camera before Satoru’s face came back into view in his small FaceTime square. “I didn’t mean’ta drop you, pretty, don’t be mad,” he whined. 

You shook your head, swiping your dorm key from your desk and heading to your door. “I’m on my way, Suguru,” you said, ignoring Satoru’s drunk babbling. 

“Please hurry, I can't take much more of this.”

You were quick to rush out of your dorm when you ended the call, cutting off whatever sweet talk your intoxicated friend was about to pull out next and the agitated ‘Shut the fuck up!’ that boomed from Suguru.

You knew this routine like the back of your hand. Either Satoru, Shoko, or Suguru would call you or the group chat, depending on who was out on a given night, to ask you to come over and babysit drunk Satoru, who had always found himself pleading for you the moment liquor settled into his system. 

Though Satoru was the strongest sorcerer and overall person you had ever met, his tolerance for alcohol was painfully low, which you all supposed was why he liked to drink so much. Satoru was so used to being the best at everything, to not having to struggle or experience every day pressures and trials of weakness that the rest of you had to endure. 

Nothing in his life posed a challenge for him, so when he stole a moment to find something that lowered his inhibitions and eased him into a state of malfunction and playful instability, it was like taking a break, a breath of fresh air after having been submerged underwater. He liked the way alcohol buzzed through his brain, melted through his bloodstream, and dumbed him down to a simple, wasted mess. 

It reminded him that he was still flesh and bone in a world that raised him up as a god. 

So he went out and drank quite a bit, and you, naturally, were his caretaker during those frequent times. 

You never thought Satoru meant anything by his clinginess toward you. After all, he was Satoru Gojo. He was fawned over by all women, and as one of his closest friends, you had witnessed his constant indulgence in their infatuation over him. 

Satoru never acted beyond his captivating smiles and provocative words. It was all a game to him, something to keep him entertained and to raise his already astronomically large ego. 

Therefore, when he called you over and over, told you that you were gorgeous, and blabbered about how much he loved to have you by his side, you thought nothing of it. Satoru was your friend, and you would look after him over and over again solely because of that fact. 

The four of you were bonded, closer than anyone else on your campus. You may have been a bit too cliquey for others’ taste, but you all loved each other dearly, and that’s all you assumed Satoru’s drunk words were: love for a friend being portrayed incorrectly due to the alcohol. 

And boy, did you love Satoru dearly, as much as you loved Shoko and Suguru. You loved him so much that you’d rub his back every time he’d throw up into your toilet and bring him fresh clothes for the morning every time he was too hungover to make it back to his dorm. 

You loved him so much that you’d take care of him as long as he allowed you, as long as when you were sober and he was intoxicated, he needed you in a way he would never need you when his mind was clear and alert. You loved him so much that no matter how each compliment and loving gaze he tossed your way in the midst of his drunken stupors sent butterflies swirling through your tummy, you’d allow yourself to bury your feelings deep down.

After all, the sun would always rise and the haziness of his eyes would always disappear, and he would always have to go back to being Satoru Gojo. The strongest who needed no one.

You arrived outside the convenient store a few minutes later, approaching your two friends slowly. The 24-hour convenience store sign provided the only source of light amidst the darkness and buzzed softly over the boys’ heads. 

Suguru was leaning beside the store entrance against the wall, hands in his pockets, eyes closed, and head resting against the brick. Satoru was sitting on the curb with his legs splayed out before him and his bag to the side, humming some song loudly to himself. 

He was quick to catch sight of you once you stepped into his vision. His face lit up and he jumped to his feet, stumbling to the side before rushing over to you sloppily. He clung to you immediately, long arms circling around yours from the side and pulling you to his chest. He leaned his head atop yours, his glasses crashing against your forehead painfully.

“Finally, y’took forever,” he moaned, leaving you very little room to breathe. You huffed, clenching your jaw and craning your neck out to try to find some space for oxygen. You patted his arm with your hand stiffly, unable to move much more than that.

“I know, I know. Five minutes was just so long,” you agreed sarcastically, to which Satoru nodded aggressively.

“Way too long.”

Suguru pushed himself off of the wall when he heard your voice, opening his eyes and sauntering tiredly over to the two of you. You looked up at him from where you stood, trapped, and you could see a smugness dancing in his fatigued eyes despite his agitation. “Don’t look at me like that, dick,” you seethed. “Your lazy ass couldn’t walk him back?”

“I told you, he wanted to see you,” he shrugged. “Besides, you and I both know it’s physically impossible to get Satoru to do something he doesn’t want to do. He’s such a big baby.”

He eyed the blue eyed sorcerer who poked out his tongue childishly, tugging you closer into him. 

“Just tell m’you hate me, Sugu,” Satoru frowned. 

“Yeah, yeah.” The dark haired student leaned down to grab Satoru’s bag and hand it to you. “Here. I’m walking in this direction,” he pointed behind him.

You scrunched your brows. “That’s gonna add like fifteen minutes to a two second walk,” you pointed out.

“If it means peace and quiet, so be it,” he sighed. 

“Awee, tired a’me already?” Satoru giggled, raising an arm to poke Suguru’s stiff shoulder. 

“Yes,” he deadpanned. “Good night, you too. Be safe and text me when you’re in. And for the love of god, get this idiot to sleep when you get back,” the seventeen year old sweatdropped.

“You say that like it’ll be easy,” you seethed. 

“Mhm.”

With that, Suguru turned over his shoulder and walked off, leaving you and Satoru alone once again. 

“God, he’so moody,” Satoru chuckled. “W’don’t need ‘im anyway. Got all I need right’here.”

“He’s your best friend, Toru. You’ll always need him.”

“Mmmaybe, but dn’t tell ‘im that. It’ll go to his big head.”

You laughed.

“Alright, Toru, come on,” you nudged yourself away from his embrace. He released you, but was quick to sling his arm over your shoulders as you guided him around with your hand on his back. He leaned slightly over you, causing you to trip under his weight. He was so tall and heavy, draping himself comfortably over your figure. He already had absolutely no concept of personal space, but it was so much worse when he was under the influence. “Okay, yeah, one step at a time. Let’s get you home,” you guided sweetly.

“‘Kay,” he mumbled. “Mmm, some ramen would b’good right now, don’t y’think?” he murmured. “Should’make some when we- when we get back.”

“Sure. Okay. We can make some ramen,” you lied. You silently prayed he’d forget the suggestion once he was in his dorm. 

Satoru spent the entire walk yapping, swaying back and for and bringing you along with him. He’d almost made the two of you fall about ten times, and what was meant to be a quick walk lasted double the original time. You were sure that Suguru had already made it back to his dorm by the rate the two of you were moving.

The sight of Satoru’s dorm room was like seeing the gates of heaven open before you. You exhaled in relief when you approached his door, which was irresponsibly unlocked. The guy had been out for hours and hadn’t even bothered to secure his room. 

You shoved the door open, pulling Satoru in with you. He removed his arm from around you after what felt like hours and stumbled forward, falling face first on his carpet. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath after setting his bag to the side, for you knew that you would not be getting to bed soon simply from that action alone.

Satoru groaned, turning his head to the side to breathe. His glasses had risen up over his forehead crookedly, revealing his glassy ocean eyes and snow white lashes fluttering sleepily over them. “I could sleep right’here,” he mumbled, limbs spread out like a starfish.

You shook your head and closed his door behind him. You pulled out your phone quickly, pulling up Suguru’s contact and snapping a picture of the ridiculous sight before you. You sent it along with a message letting him know that the two of you made it safe.

Seconds later, Suguru responded with a ‘yeah, good luck with that.’

You put your phone on the dresser, crouching down over him. “Well too bad you’re not going to,” you said. You grabbed his arm and tugged at it. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get you on the bed.”

“Why?” he pouted, closing his eyes and poking out his glossy bottom lip. 

“Because you’ll regret it in the morning when you wake up with an aching back.”

“But I don’t wanna get up,” he groaned, allowing his body to go limp as you mustered up all your strength to pull at him. You grunted, tugging him backward as best as you could. 

“Don’t make this so difficult,” you groaned. “Get up!”

“Noooooo,” he whined. 

“What the hell have you been eating?!” you asked breathlessly. “You weigh like two hundred pounds!”

“Maybe y’re jus’ weak,” he snickered to himself, and you almost dropped his hand and walked out of his room. 

“Maybe I should just beat your ass,” you grumbled. 

He turned to smirk at you, eyes glinting with hazy mischief. “Try it. I won’t go easy on you.”

You couldn’t help the blush that fought its way to your cheeks under his gaze. Even drunk, he knew how to get under your skin.

“Shut up,” you grumbled and he laughed. 

You tried again, yanking his arm, but to no avail. He wouldn’t budge. 

“Ugh! Satoru!” you shouted in frustration. “I can’t stand it when you get like this.”

The Gojo’s smile fell, brows curving in distaste. “Who the hell’s Satoru?” he frowned.

You blinked, lowered his arm and leaning down by his side. “What?��

“Y’call me Toru. What happened’ta Toru?” he repeated, childishly, eyes gleaming with impatience. 

“Yeah, well, when you’re not pissing me off, you’re Toru” you tilted your head to look him in his eyes. “Why?”

He groaned loudly, his dramatics so boisterous that they could probably wake up the rest of the hall. You cocked a brow, releasing his arm as he shifted around, twisting himself onto his back and flopping about. “Why d’you do this t’me,” he complained, lifting his arms up and into the air.

You sighed. “What are you on about, drama queen?”

“Pick m’up.”

“Oh, now you wanna get up, huh?”

“If’t means ’m Toru again, yes,” he pouted again. “Pick m’up,” he demanded once more.

You scoffed a laugh, standing to your feet and leaning over him. “So dramatic,” you said as you grasped his outstretched hands, leaning back to pull him up. He assisted you this time, bringing himself to a seated position before you helped him onto his feet. He stumbled again and you held onto his hands, leading him over to the edge of his bed.

“F’ryou,” he responded, plopping down onto his comforter. He leaned over unstably and you caught his head, guiding him back upright. He hummed softly, leaning into the warmth of your palm, eyes half lidded. “Thank you.”

“I got you, Toru,” you smiled, bending down to tug his shoes off. When you did, you missed the wide beam that stretched across his face at the sound of his nickname rolling from your lips. 

After setting his shoes at his door, you went to move about his space familiarly, walking over to his bottom dresser drawers and pulling out an old tee and sweatpants. 

Satura watched you lazily, eyes dragging along your figure as you so carefully picked out his clothes. He could feel his heart thrumming in his chest like a rhythm, his flushed cheeks growing warmer simply from the sight of you.

You walked back over to him, clothes folded over your arm. He smiled up at you in a daze, appearing like a giddy school boy sitting there patiently for you. You gave him a strange look, placing his clothes next to him on the bed and removing his glasses from his head, setting aside on his lamp lit nightstand. 

When you turned back to him, his eyes hadn’t left you. His pupils were blown wide and his lips stretched into a dumb grin. He spread his legs out and leaned back on his elbows tiredly, admiring you, for the first time tonight, with no words.

“Why are you staring at me like that, weirdo?” you rose a brow.

His smile widened. “Y’just so pretty.”

Just like that, butterflies swarmed as if on cue. Your brows drew together as you looked at him, examining his face for any detection of mischief or deception, but you found none. His gaze upon you was so raw, so full of ardor and sweltering tenderness. He looked like a puppy dog watching you in such a way, and you tried your very hardest to keep your legs from turning to jelly beneath you.

You cleared your throat, looking down and busying yourself with unfolding his clothes. “You’re drunk.”

“On you.”

God, he just wouldn’t stop. His presence was so suffocating, it filled the room with its weight. You felt as though you were going to lose your breath if he kept looking at and talking to you like that.

“Stop,” you sighed, tossing his shirt at him. It hit his face softly, rolling down into his lap. Even that hadn’t been enough for his eyes to rip from your face. He simply reached blindly for the fabric, gaze unwavering. 

“You gon’help me change, pretty?” he asked gently, looking to you expectantly.

“Now what makes you say that?” you questioned, though you both knew full well that you were going to do just that. 

“Cause’you’ve done it b’fore. When I was black’out.”

You whipped your head up at him to find a teasing expression on his features. “There’s no way you remember that?!” you said, incredulously.

He giggled to himself slightly. “No, Shoko tol’me.”

You internally cursed the brunette for betraying you in such a way. “Asshole,” you muttered to yourself, leading Satoru to laugh louder. 

As if on instinct, sat up straight and held his arms out. “M’ready,” he cheesed.

“You’re such an idiot, you know that?” 

He didn’t respond as you walked up to him and stood between his spread legs. He was suddenly silent, observing you closely. You could feel those eyes glued to you, burning into your skull like a line of blue fire. You held your breath, keeping your eyes on your fingers as they reached for the top bottom of his collared shirt. 

You had done this so many times, on so many nights, and the majority of the time, he was either passed out or too drunk to keep his head up and pay attention to what you were doing. This night, however, he was more alert than he had been at this stage of his intoxication. He must not have gotten very far into his drinking, you had thought to yourself. 

He was still pretty drunk, but the gleam in his eye made you question if he would forget this moment like he usually did when you helped him into more comfortable clothes. 

His chest rose and fell delicately under your hands. You popped one button open, then the next, and the next. Your soft fingers brushed against the smoothness of his skin occasionally, the white haired boy jumping slightly every now and then at the contact. 

Satoru broke his eyes from you for just a second, looking down and following the buzzing vision of your fingers working down his shirt, freeing his abdomen for you to see. You could hear his soft breaths, deep and long, as though he were breathing manually, desperately finding a way to recall how to inhale and exhale properly. 

He looked back up at you once the entire shirt was undone, a bashful tint on his cheeks. You were so careful with him, so attentive, so patient and loving with your touch. Shoko and Suguru had always looked after him when he drank by making sure he got home safe when you weren’t around, but they never took care of him the way you did so gently, so earnestly. 

Flashes of your touch and your face would strike him during those early morning hangovers, feeding into the initial yearning he already harbored for you within his chest and his gut. He knew you were always there, in his dreams and his fragmented memories, but he could never recall how or why so clearly.

So now, he soaked you in, devouring each feather light touch and tug at his clothing. He was captivated by the way you moved around his room as though you lived there, like you’d been there a hundred million times over in this exact position. How you talked to him with a tinge of coddling and kindness in your voice that he rarely detected through your normal day to day. 

You handled him with such care, as if he were going to break, and it baffled him. It baffled him how he, one of the strongest individuals to roam this earth, was nothing but putty at your loving hands. He felt so vulnerable sitting there before you, staring intently at your face as you tugged his sleeves down each arm and pulled his shirt from his body. He had expected to feel cool, but he was surrounded by nothing but warmth. Whether it was you or the liquor, he wasn’t sure, but he could feel himself slipping into a trance induced by your beauty and your care. 

Everything in his vision was vibrating except for the vision of you, constant and comforting. He wanted nothing more than to melt into you, to allow you to envelope him within your arms. He wanted to stare at you until he couldn’t see anymore, to memorize every curve in your jaw and dent in your brows, the twitch of your nose and the hitch of your breath, the swipe of your tongue over your lip and the flutter of your lashes over mesmerizing, gentle (e/c) eyes. 

He was so drunk, yes, but you were doing very little to sober him up. He felt like he was floating and falling into you all at once.

You grabbed his t-shirt in your hands and spread it out, reaching your hands through the hole to stretch it over your friend’s head. He poked his head through the neck hole, hair messily sprawling over his forehead as a result, and pulled his arms through the sleeves, disorientedly. 

You still hadn’t looked at him. You were already moving to grab his sweats when you felt a hand reach up and snake over your waist. 

You jumped, snapping your eyes up to his finally. His brows were pinched together and his lips were parted, the blue of his irises a stark contrast against the pink shade of his face. You were close, your legs bumping the edge of the bed while Satoru’s legs caged around you. You stopped suddenly, his touch catching you off guard.

He didn’t say anything. He only snaked his other hand around you, settling them on your hips, leading your heart to slam into your chest.

“S-Satoru, what…” you trailed off, losing yourself in his eyes. There wasn’t a single thought behind them except you. “What’s wrong? You want me to stop?”

His Adam's apple bobbed with a gulp he took, thumbs rolling over your hips experimentally. He looked down, over your body, watching his hands grasp your waist gently as if the feeling and the sight of it weren’t real. He could hear your heart pounding, see your blood rushing, practically taste your nerves despite his drunken state.

You were so overstimulating. Worse than the five shots he’d tossed back.

“Toru?” you called him again. He saw your lips move before the sound registered within his brain, the sweet address sending shivers down his spine. He could barely keep himself upright, but he needed more of you. 

“Why’dyou do’this?” he mumbled, unsure of what he was even asking.

Your nose scrunched in that cute way it did when you were confused. “Huh?”

“Y’always… look after’me. Always’take care’a’me. Why?”

You were growing nervous. Your heartbeat was loud enough, you were sure Satoru could here, and your face was hot to the touch. “Because… because you’re one of my closest friends, Toru. I care about you.”

He shook his head slightly. “‘S’not th’same.”

“What do you mean?”

“S’not th’same as Sho ‘n Sugu. S’different. You’re different.” 

“I…” you weren’t sure what to say. He had you cornered, trapped into him with no escape. You were hyper aware of his fingers gripping your waist softly and his eyes eating you alive. Your senses were through the roof, and you wanted to run and break away from this contact, from this feeling, but you couldn’t. You were frozen. 

You could feel him tugging himself closer, leaning into you, pressing you closer. 

“You’re drunk, Satoru. You should get to bed. We can talk about this tomorrow, when you’re sober,” you tried to change the subject.

“No,” he refused. “Please, no. Please.”

His hands trailed up your waist, feeling all around your body. You were perfect, too perfect. He couldn’t get enough of you. 

His hands reached your arms, then your shoulders, and finally your face, cradling your cheeks softly within his warm palms. 

You pursed your lips, eyes scattering over his face as he gazed at you. He drew your face closer, his sharp nose brushing yours. He was so close, you could smell the alcohol on his breath. 

You lifted your hands to grasp his wrists, preparing to pull his hands from your flustered face.

“Satoru,” you warned. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t want y’to’go,” he whispered, thumbs smoothing over your hot skin. You shivered, your mind battling against itself as you tried to decide what to do.

He was drunk. He had no idea what he was doing. He was just being clingy.

“Please. Please stay, (Y/n). Need’you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, love,” you told him, meeting his eyes directly. “I’m right here.”

“But’don’t leave tonight. Y’always leave. Don’t. Stay. Sleep w’me.”

Your heart swooned, ached, swelled. Satoru was always so needy, but never to this extent. He was practically falling apart before you. 

He stared at you longingly, brows curved as if he was going to cry. “Please, pretty. Please.”

This boy had you so weak. There was nothing he could have asked for that you wouldn’t have said yes to. It was why you were always showing up at his side in the middle of the night when he called for you, why you let him lounge around your room at any hour of the day when he was bored, why you brought him snacks when he was too busy training to eat, why you let him drag you and the others about simply because he wanted you all to tag along with him everywhere. 

Satoru Gojo could have asked you for the moon, and you would have pulled it down by a rope just to see him smile at you and feel his arms wrap around your frame as he pulled you into an overbearing hug. 

You loved him to death. You loved him more than you thought your teenage heart capable of loving anyone, and you feared his knowledge of your feelings because of how prideful he was, because of how many girls harbored the same crush, and because of how many confessions he received on a daily basis. 

You wanted to protect yourself from heartbreak by the world’s most desirable boy. You didn’t want to make yourself look so pathetic before him, more so than any ordinary person already was, but the way he begged for you… the way those big eyes drew you in and his hands framed your face, the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing that could save him from his mental torment had you giving in completely.

“Okay,” you nodded, releasing his wrists to cup his face in return. He swooned, hands falling into his lap as he submerged himself in your touch. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

A whimper fell past his lips as he fell into you, head collapsing into your chest and hands gripping around your thighs. Your hands moved to his back, stroking him soothingly as he clutched you to him, murmuring nonsense. You could tell his intoxication was tipping into exhausting by the way he slumped into you, and you sighed. He was going to be the death of you, this one. 

The time ticked closer to three once you had managed to get him to let you change him out of his pants and gurgle some mouthwash before going to bed. He kept himself close to you for the rest of the night, whether it was by clinging to your shirt or holding your hand or leaning his head over your shoulder. He had gone completely nonverbal, relying on his actions instead to convey his desperation for your closeness to him. 

You had finally managed to get him into bed at 3:30 am. He plopped down into his messy sheets, face smothered by the pillow and feet hanging off the edge of the bed. He was too tall for his own good. 

You were busying yourself with turning out his lights when you saw his hand twitch out, grasping through the air. You knew what he was asking.

You slipped your shoes off and pulled your sweatshirt over your head, leaving you in your night tee and shorts. You carefully climbed onto the soft furniture, grabbing Satoru’s outstretched hand. He turned himself to face you immediately, yanking you down into him. You squeaked, collapsing beside him on the bed. 

He didn’t let you move to grab the comforter to pull it over your body. Instead, he threw his arms around you and buried his face into the crook of your neck, securing a leg over yours and trapping you against him for the final time that night. 

You tensed, Gojo’s hair brushing softly against your chin as his warm breath fanned contently against your neck. He curled himself into you, clutching you as though you were his last lifeline. 

He stroked his hair softly, scratching his scalp as the beat of your heart lulled him into sleep. 

You exhaled softly, staring up at the ceiling as sleep slowly overtook your body. You prayed that Satoru wouldn’t remember this night. He normally woke up late, so you hoped that you would at least have had time to slip from his room in the morning and disappear into yours. 

You wanted to forget everything. You wanted to forget the way he looked at you, the way he held you, the way he touched you. You wanted to bury it all deep down, to move on as friends like you always had been and always would be. You wanted to leave it all behind, but Satoru had a hold on you that you could not escape. It was the effect he had. Consuming, powerful, and entirely too dangerous for you to indulge.

Satoru was a needy drunk. That was all you could chalk him and the intimacy of this night up to be. A consequence of his intoxication.

But somewhere deep within you, somewhere you did not bother to explore, a spark of hope glimmered for your love, a spark that made you believe just for a moment that Satoru loved you too.