#I needed a few days to just. handle feelings on all that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

celuere · 3 days ago

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when our hearts intertwine

pt. 2 of tangled hearts

pairing: arlecchino x fem!harbinger reader

context: you can’t help but collide on a stressful day.

cw: one-sided hate sex, arle being a pathetic lesbian, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, arle orgasms while eating pussy what a looser, yearning lesbians, mutual pining omg im so sick, homophobic crucabena uhm, mentions of drug handling and sex work, sexual harassment for like one short paragraph

word count: 5.2k

wanted to give reader a certain character depth so i added a few flashbacks. also didnt‘t flesh reader‘s backstory out by a lot on purpose since i wanted to leave space for y’all’s self inserts or ocs lore mwuah

you hated harbinger discussions.

not because pierro thought it was an amazing idea to announce this meeting the same morning you woke up with a dreadful headache from last evening‘s… wine tasting.

but because you had to look at her face.

one would think she‘d return the gesture and blatantly ignore you, but no. her eyes slipped over to you at least once every few minutes. studying you with an unfulfilled desire burning in her crimson x‘s, it almost made you think she felt guilty. but for what?

there was nothing she should possibly feel guilty for. she just tossed you aside without further explanation and took a pretty thing back to her hotel yesterday. you knew. of course you did. the apologetic look on her face yesterday was all you needed.

and now she sat there in front of you. with the guts to look sorry. after ignoring your attempts to mend things, waving you off when you tried talking to her, it pissed you off. greatly. for all the same reasons that make her an outstanding diplomat of her majesty, she was unbelievable bad with her feelings. but you could handle her fairly well in the past.

she couldn‘t find the words to talk to you after moments of shared vulnerability and intimacy? tracing her curse marks while resting her head on top her bare chest while you listened to the steady beat of her heart was also fine with you. she never outright confessed how deep her feelings for you actually went but you never minded it when she‘d sent you whole poems each day she wasn‘t near enough to bathe in the comfort of your presence.

but now the sight of her almost ticked you off. childe raised an eyebrow as he noticed your clenched jaw before his eyes wandered over to his colleague, raising an eyebrow at how her gaze seemingly pinned you to your chair.

arlecchino seemed to catch up to the ginger‘s lingering attention on her, raising an eyebrow herself as she stared him down. he knew exactly what that lookmeant.

„mind your own business.“

he just sank back into his chair with a sigh tickling the back of his throat.

„i didn’t know i was taking care of a bunch kindergarteners today, lady brighella. care to enlighten us as to why you seemingly want to stab lord arlecchino with your eyes? maybe if you look hard enough she‘ll manage a sneeze.“, the jesters raw, low tone bounced off the marmor walls of zapolyarny palace as he folded his hands in front of him.

perfect. the last thing you needed was your superior berating you in front of your colleagues like a 12 year old.

„with all due respect, sir pierro, i have no idea what you’re talking about.“, you didn’t plan on humiliating yourself any further, so you avoided looking back into arlecchino‘s direction.

you missed the deathgrip in which she engulfed her glass of wine.

„seize it, brighella. spare me the theatrics, i already bestowed you with your part of the plan. you‘re dismissed.“, a gloved hand waved you off into the direction of the exit, the guards already starting to pull the big mahogany door open for your leave.

your mouth fell slightly open.

he did not just kick you out.

for something she was responsible for.

„you‘re dismissing me because a certain person in this room can‘t seem deal with the consequences of her ow-”

„i‘m dismissing you because your recent attitude is irritating and nowhere near reasonable for someone your age and status. i won’t repeat myself“, now narrowing his eyes at you, pierro nodded his head into the direction of the widely opened door.

you were 100% sure a blood vessel just popped in your forehead by how hard you were biting down whatever insults rested on your tongue.

making sure the feet of your chair were screeching loudly enough as you shoved yourself back from the table, you snatched up your stuff and rushed out of the conference room.

to hell with them.

„no need to follow her, lord arlecchino. you‘re still needed in this conversation.“

and to hell with her too.

„she looks miserable. i have never seen her like that. ever.“

„i don’t care, ajax.“

„don‘t you think you should at least try and talk to her? i get that you are angry, you have every right to that, but you can‘t keep on going out of your way to make her feel so bad instead of-”

„ajax, would it hurt you to shut up for once?“, tone so sharp it could cut through the icy heart of her majesty itself. you were so sick. so sick of your friend trying to play therapist. sure, ajax was despite his title as „the childe“ still a kind-hearted soul who wanted only the best for his comrades but after weeks and weeks of failed attempts to mingle into yours and arlecchino’s relationship… you wanted to strangle him now.

„i am merely trying to help. you know her better than i do, it couldn‘t possibly hurt to just… talk with her“, the ginger crossed his arms now and tilted his head. those blue eyes trying to read you. trying to pry into your thoughts and soul.

„get out, tartaglia.“

you could only make out the faint cussing beneath his breath as he slammed the door to your laboratory shut behind him.

a deafening silence filled the room, a soft comfort to your boiling blood. you allowed yourself to sink back into the cushions of your chair as you repeated his words over and over in your mind.

„talk to her.“

what is there to talk about? you were never in a serious relationship. you rarely woke up next to her after another one of your nightly rendezvous. you never spent the mornings together with making breakfast. neither of you ever allowed yourselves to whisper those three words during moments of raw skin, needy kisses and shared vulnerability. sure, they lingered on your tongue. you could taste them. most of the time they tasted like bad alcohol, reminding you of how they were best kept to yourself, how you’d regret opening up your heart to her, just like you would regret a bad glass of wine.

will it ever stop? the sharp pain in your chest anytime your gaze wandered over to her? it was cruel. so cruel for her to have this kind of effect on you. it‘s not easy to sit though hour long meetings and discussions when she is sitting in the same room as you. breathing the same air as you. feeling those bloody x‘s resting on your face for longer than you would like. it caused your heart to swell and your chest to tighten. your thoughts suddenly growing to loud for your head, blending out the heated conversations occurring just a meter away from you as your breath grows heavy, lungs feeling suddenly so awfully small and tight.

you almost lost it last night, when she led this strange lady over the dance floor. chuckling with her. eyeing her up and down like she used to do it with you when you were laying helpless and naked underneath her.

it almost knocked the air out of your lungs when she still had the nerve to lock eyes with you for the last time of the evening. a look full of despair and agony. screaming. screaming to you. for you. and all you could do was sit there. watch and try to delude yourself about the reasons why she would leave with this woman. alone.

you were in love with arlecchino peruere.

and there was nothing you could do about it.

„Peruere?“, the afternoon breeze gently brushed through the hearth‘s garden, a few loose hairstrands now hindering your view on the kneeling girl in front of you. she seemed to be focused on the little grasshopper that‘s been sitting in her palm for a while now.

„hm…?“, those unique pupils slowly averted their gaze up to you, but not before they lingered on the bandage that covered up the most recent addition to your collection of scars.

„mother said i‘m getting adopted tomorrow.“

a gust of wind hit peruere right into the face, sending the small insect off her hand. the happy chirping of the birds that surrounded the estate just a few moments ago seized from existence as your words rung in her ears. echoing through her usual raging mind. but right now there was nothing but silence.

what was that feeling boiling up in her stomach?

„don‘t you have anything to say, peru…?“, you almost looked a little hurt, your tone growing nervous. shouldn‘t she be happy for these news? for you? at the chance of escaping this living hell where death was looming at every corner?

then why couldnt she help but feel… anxious at the thought of you leaving her and clervie behind? no more evenings spent together patching each other up. no more sneaking out of the safety of your beds to go gazing upon the stars. clervie would always give them funny names while you‘d give them meanings.

all of that would disappear. be different. feel wrong without you.

„no… no i‘m glad for you… it‘s just…“, the white-haired girl seemed to struggle with finding the right words for you. she didn‘t want to offend you or make you feel like you should rather stay here in this slaughterhouse.

a rare wave of unease washed over you at her loss for words. was she angry with you? even disappointed? but the way those crimson x‘s darted around the ground, as if she was searching for answers between the rainbow roses surrounding you told you something else.

you were just about to say something as peruere‘s blackened fingertips snaked around your hands, giving them an almost desperate squeeze as she rose up from her knees. and she was still a head smaller than you. but you bit that remark down. or rather it was quickly forgotten by the way your heart pounded in your chest. sending your blood racing through your veins.

mother always preached about how two girls looking at each other like this was wrong. sinful. but how could the warmth of your skin against hers feel so right? the way her eyes found your lips and then locked gaze with the shimmering color of yours. it didn‘t make any sense.

„peruere, wha-“

„i promise to find you again. to come looking for you with clervie at the first chance we earn.“

but fate had different plans for the three of you.

neither did she come looking for you. five years have passed and now you were both stuck in the harbinger ranks. it has been a week since peruere‘s arlecchino’s appointment as the knave and she didnt do more than nod into your direction on her first day. was it the pressure? clervie‘s and mother‘s blood sticking to her hands? a few weeks ago she was considered a teenager, now she is running the house of the hearth all by herself. a seventeen year old in charge of other children as traumatized and scarred as her. the only difference? arlecchino has always been a natural at masking her true feelings. the average fatui subordinate is already describing her as „cunning“, „cold“, „manipulative“. and it angered you. everything angered you recently.

you‘ve bore the title as „brighella“ for barely five months but compared to her, your workload has been easy. potions here, poisons there. interrogating traitor‘s or possible spies before eventually executing them after turning them into your own personal test subjects… you‘ve experienced worse. and still.

you were farther away from her than ever before.

the stench of bitter opium and long forgotten dreams caused you to scratch the tip of your nose. your sense of smell is definitely going to be fucked up once you made it out of here. hopefully without having to wash the blood and innard off of your clothes from the man sitting before you.

„lady brighella… i didn‘t expect a harbinger visiting my charming establishment today.“, reaching over to light up yet another cigarette, while his other hand rested on one of his… lady‘s behind, you ignored the other one taking care of whatever is going on between his legs.

pig.

if it weren‘t for the sake of pierro‘s plan you would have blown this place up to bits long ago. but you needed a sample of his opium before you can follow your own ambitions regarding this dirt hole.

nod-krai has always been known for their suspicious activity regarding drugs, weapons, sex work and unethical researches. why the tsaritsa didn‘t order the organization to shut them down for good? you don‘t often find logical reasoning within your archons plans, didn‘t need to. that‘s not why she appointed you with your title.

„i‘ve come to maybe negotiate a deal between the two of us. it has come to our attention that you‘ve been tinkering with our trading routes lately in favor of your… totally legal business.“, the last three words were laced with an undertone only a diplomat could allow themselves in this part of snezhnaya. you could see his breathing stop for the shortest moment, pupils darting around the room before he gestured the various women to get off of him.

„speak. what is your deal with us.“, he thankfully zipped up his pants rather fast. you wanted to avoid a direct look into his crotch so you rather transferred your attention to the small spider webbing it‘s way down on your shoulder.

deciding to ignore his rather disrespectful tone, you spoke up, „deal is the wrong word… perhaps an ultimatum would fit the terms i‘m about to offer you much better. we‘ll so gratefully allow you to continue to run your… extraordinary establishment if you were so kind to hand us over around…“, fifty. you needed fifty milliliters, „eighty milliliters of your finest opium.“

his jaw ticked before he decided to stand up from the plushy red sofa. he did not like that.

„you fatui scum always think you can walk in here with your ridiculous terms and deals and expect us to bow down. the least they could do is send in a fucking man instead of a stuck-up bitch. 340k or your leaving empty handed, no matter how often you swing your fancy title around.“, he took a deep inhale of his cigarette before blowing out the smoke right into your face. you merely waved it off.

you should have taken capitano with you when he offered to accompany you. however, you never needed a man‘s help to get where you are today. you certainly don’t need it now.

„340k for eighty milliliters is anything but reasonable. you want to take a moment and rethink your decision, i assure you.“, usually you‘re not a fan of letting your strength speak unlike a certain orange-haired friend of yours, but despite the temperature of the room slowly beginning to drop- well… at least they should start to drop, but the frost on the window melted away as fast as it came. and when did it start becoming so warm? either way your attempt to direct this negotiation in your favor crumbled to dust. and directly attacking was something you wanted to avoid at all costs. words it were then.

„unreasonable, you say? does 100k and my dick down your throat sound better to you, sugar?“, a shiver ran down at the sound of his sultry voice cooing right into your ear, his disgustingly warm breath which reeked of a bad oral hygiene and rotting food almost forced your breakfast back up into your mouth. and he had the audacity to lay his filthy fucking hand on your ass.

„what do you think abo-“, a crisp snap bounced off of the walls before tuning out in a far away echo. the room was suddenly engulfed in darkness as the candles on top of the crystalline chandelier were stripped of their flames.

„am i interrupting something?“

your blood ran cold at the sound of her voice filling the room before you blinked and stared up at a pair of bloody x‘s glowing amidst the darkness as arlecchino cleared her throat and the office was drowned once again in a dim light.

and before you was standing the knave.

her fatui coat hanging loose around her shoulders and she made sure to make use of her sudden appearance when her eyes glided over to the bastard behind you. too bad you were missing the priceless look on his face. he was shitting himself senseless.

„l-lady arlecchino-! wh-what a pleasant surprise to welcome you here today-! if i had k-known about your visit i-i would have arranged according preparations for you-! can i offer you-“

„spare me the drama, monsieur laurenz and let go of my�� colleague. it‘s in everyone’s best interest.“, not waiting for his reaction, she pulled you close to her side with a grip so… gentle despite her obvious cold, almost pissed off demeanor.

you ignored how your heart tightened at this simple touch between the two of you. how on earth did she know you were here? and why is he seemingly shitting himself at the simple sight of her?

„o-oh, i was just about to wrap up a deal with lady brighella-! girls, hundred milliliters of our finest opium, pronto-!“, as soon as laurenz clapped his hands, the ladies were out and about hurrying into the back.

„ah, then i must have had something on my eyes when your hand was touching her inappropriately just a few moments ago, right?“, if looks were deadly he would already be bleeding out on the floor by now.

feeling like a damsel in distress that just got saved from her knight in shining armor, the feeling slowly but surely turned into something… bitter… sour. she made you look like a fool who can‘t wrap up a deal all by herself without things escalating and losing the upper hand. you almost ripped your wrist free of her grip.

you cut the monsieur off as he was about to explain himself, „he was just about to hand me over a hundred milliliters for the cheap price of 50k mora.“

arlecchino cocked an eyebrow at the number you just named.

„50k? let‘s make it 10k along with an apology to lady brighella, right monsieur?“

„i- o-oh surely-! lady brighella, i am offering my sincerest apologies for my inappropriate behavior and remarks-!“, even when he bowed down to you, you could see the visible drops of sweat that formed on his bald head.

just what did that woman do to him that reduced this arrogant douchebag to nothing more than a stuttering idiot?

because it turned you on.

„it‘s whatever… but i appreciate your forthcomings a lot…“, your voice came out bitter, despite the perfect outcome. it made you look like you needed her. and you didn‘t. never. at least thats the lie you believed to be true.

when the workers finally came back carrying a wooden boy wrapped in a fancy golden ribbon, it was time for you get the hell out of here.

„monsieur, make sure the lady makes it out of here safely. i still have some personal business to take care of with you.“

„that won‘t be necessary, but thank you, arlecchino. i‘ll see myself out on my own.“

you noticed her clenched jaw almost immediately. your refusal didn‘t seem to sit well with her. good.

once back in your laboratory, you didn‘t waste any time and got to work on your researches. measuring around ten milliliters of the opium in one of your graduated cylinders as the bone marrow mixture boiled over the bunsen burner in the corner while you wrote down every single one of your observations. you still had to mix up some other stuff that‘s sitting neatly organized on the iron table in front of you.

if it were a normal evening you would have gone to bed long ago.

but today was anything but an ordinary day. you couldn‘t stop thinking about the recent events in nod-krai. couldn‘t shake the feeling of your body growing hot and needy at the bare presence of arlecchino. and my god you hated it. you hated how your body betrayed you in every way when it came to her. you didn‘t want to feel this way towards her. didn‘t want this weakness in your profile any longer. being near her felt like offering a recovering alcoholic a glass of wine.

your worries were consuming you to a point where you didn‘t notice the door to your laboratory opening and shutting again. softly.

„we need to talk. please…“

you didn‘t flinch at the sudden interruption. merely paused your movements for a brief second before continuing.

„go home, arle. there is nothing to talk about.“

„i am home.“

you set the erlenmeyer flask back down on the table before you dropped it on accident. or crushed it on purpose.

„no need to lie to yourself. not when it‘s just the two of us.“

„the least you could do is look me in the eyes instead of turning your back to me.“, you did not turn around. nor did you answer her. not because you didn‘t want to. but it‘s hard to form any words when your heart is almost jumping out of your chest. stupid, stupid heart.

for a good few seconds arlecchino kept quiet. it‘s like waiting for a storm to come.

„a simple thank you for my help back in nod-krai would have sufficed.“

now whipping your head around, the words spilled out faster from your mouth than you could have stopped them.

„thanking you for what? making me look like a stupid coward?! well, thank you, o holy knave for helping me make a fool out of myself! now get the fuck out of my lab.“, your words were dripping with anger. your heart now racing for completely different reasons as you tried stabbing her with your eyes.

but arlecchino was unmoved. if it weren‘t for the agonizing look in her face.

„i did not make you look like a coward. you were in need of help. i happened to be the-“

„you made me look weak.“, your bare tone could have cut through the thickest steel with ease.

„…we both know that‘s a blatant lie.“

„just like you lied to me when you promised to find me again. and now you‘re just tossing me aside-“

„stop it with the accusations, i did not-“

„you tossed me aside. you took someone else to bed and you‘ve been the reason for every single one of my problems in the past damned weeks and yet-“, you nearly didn‘t notice how your feet dragged you towards her, „you have the nerve to stand before me, berate me and act like you didn‘t rip my heart out, peruere!“, your voice cracked as you raised your voice at her. merely a few inches seperating the space between you and arle looked… besotted with you. her breath came out shaking as she eyed you down with a glimmer so gentle and lovingly in them that it caused you to take step back from her.

„s-say something… fucking hell arle, say something…!“, the anger boiling beneath your skin slowly turning into something akin to embarrassment, causing your cheeks to slowly start flushing in a dark red.

„say… say it again…“, her words barely came out as a whisper.

„i-i beg your pardon…?“

„my name. say it again…“, a cursed hand suddenly grabbed after your wrist to pull you back closer to her. gentle. light enough for you to pull away if you pleased.

but you didn‘t.

„arle-“

„not that one…“, you could hear how trembled her breath came out when she slowly bent down to your face.

every signal inside your body screamed at you to pull away. to smack her across the face. to not let her red-painted lips touch your uncolored ones.

but your heart betrayed you once again.

„peruere…“

she was over you in an instant. lips coming crashing down on yours as she pushed you backwards until your ass met the edge of the table. tongue pushing its way into your mouth as her hands cupped your face so sickenly tender as if she was scared you‘d pull away if her grip dared to get too tight. she tasted so sweet. of love, desire and all the things you‘ve missed in the past weeks. she licked up the mixed spit covering your chin before plunging right back onto your lips. your moans getting mixed up in the crash of unspoken apologies and a love that never had the chance to fully start blooming.

she was quick to put you up on the table but not before carelessly shoving any obstacles out of her. a glass shattered on the floor. you didn‘t care when her fingers hooked underneath the hem of your pants.

„lift… kiss lift your hips for me…“, she moves the attention down to your neck as you oblige with a hum, now peppering desperate, wet kisses all over your skin down to your torso until the fabric has been removed just enough for your legs to shake them off.

you could feel her smile against your sweaty skin before working up your shirt over your breasts that were covered in a plain white bra.

she still licked her lips at the sight.

„so beautiful…“, your stomach flared up at her longing gaze before a black hand went around your back to open up the hindrance on your chest, merely shoving it up to expose your already hardened nipples to her sight. she loved it. loved how bare you looked underneath her. how your body was already overheating and the stain on your panties she noticed earlier… it made it so easy for her to slip a hand in your panties. she never stopped clipping those two specific nails. thank celestia.

„the distance between us nearly killed me, doll.“, you moaned as her lips engulfed your nipple while two of her fingers slipped so easily inside of your wetness. you were already pulsating around her by the time her digits found your weak spot. you arched into her, fingers running through her silky hair as you gasped for each time she so effortlessly rubbed your inner walls to mush.

your tit was long covered in her lipstick and spit by the time she switched sides. biting, nibbling and sucking at you, it just didn‘t seem to stop for her, or you.

when deciding she paid girls enough attention she moved back up to your face, lips hovering just a few millimeters above yours.

„ride my hand, pretty girl… c‘mon now, you can do that for me…“, with another devilish curl of her fingers you started moving your hips in sync with the movements of her hand. your moans bouncing off the tiled walls and right into her handsome face. she only smiled down at you.

„just like that… look at how tightly you‘re gripping my fingers…“, with another hit to your sensitive spot you creamed over her fingers, her name falling like a desperate prayer from your lips as you covered her in your arousal.

arle cooed, letting you ride it all out on her hand as you felt the weight fall off of your heart along with your climax. you were never aware how much you needed that. needed that from her. how much you needed peruere to shower you face in gentle kisses as her fingers leave your warmth before she made you watch as she licked your slick of her fingers. groaning at the taste of you. and she wanted needed more of that. but before she could sink down onto her knees before you, you stopped.

„d-do you really think you deserve that…?“

„e-excuse me…?“, her eyes darted down to your soaked slip and back up to your face. she felt like she was gonna burn from the inside out of she couldn‘t bury her tongue into you in the next seconds.

„do you… deserve to eat after what you‘ve done…?“.

you were talking about isabella.

„i… no… no, i don‘t…“, peruere almost looked ashamed at the memories she recalled. she hated herself for that night. and you knew it.

„was she better than-“

„no.“

„hm…“

arlecchino sighed as she leaned her face against your inner thigh, „please… believe me when i tell you this… she was nothing more than a distraction, she meant nothing to me- i promise i‘ll make it up to you however i can, just- please, [name]…“, she almost let a whimper slip when you sighed.

„th-then go ahead- Ah-!“, you didn‘t remember her being this face, tongue gathering your juices in her mouth as she eagerly swallowed. it almost made you think she starved herself of any nutrients the way her groans were swallowed by your soft flesh. she was eating. with her whole heart. your slick dripping from her chin down to her neck as a pair of two strong hands kept quivering legs pressed apart. were you always so sensitive? or why were you nearly screaming over her bare tongue? your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, you just couldn‘t get enough of it in between all the moans and gasps leaving your mouth. praying to celestia that she left your pussy intact and functioning was the only option left for you. you don‘t interrupt someone mid feast.

you tugged at her hair when you came all the way over her tongue, soft sobs starting leave your mouth at the overwhelming sensation but she didn‘t stop. it was like she was stuck in her own world which consisted of only two things: her mouth and your cunt.

eating was starting to feel wrong. she devoured you. nose deeply nuzzled into your puffy clit while she made sure her tongue left you disoriented each time she fucked it right back into you.

bon appletea or whatever you used to say back at the hearth.

suddenly her movements slowed down as she just merely whimpered against you. you could feel her rapid breaths against your wetness when she pulled away from me. she was panting.

„did… d-did you just…“, you watched her slowly get back up from between your legs, her jacket stained in your fluids which… looked oddly good on her…

„yes. what about it.“, not a single ounce of shame visible in her face. unbelievable.

you sighed as she grabbed a few tissues from a package that‘s been resting on the table before she started cleaning her face and neck up. compared to you she still looked put together if it weren’t for the messed up hair and the pussy stains on her clothes.

„are you already done…?“

she paused. looking you down before she got to work on opening up her tie.

„of course not.“

you will have a talk with her about everything tomorrow.

#alba lime #arlechinno x reader #genshin arlecchino #genshin x reader #genshin impact #x reader #fatui x reader #arlechinno genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin smut #arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino genshin #arleccino genshin #lesbian #genshin wlw #wlw nsft #wlw

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mocchii-writes · 2 days ago

Note

can you do a dae ho fic, with him being super protective and defending the reader, but she shows her own strength (maybe even saving him) and he is so star struck and falls in love immediately

She's the Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene

Paring: Kang Dae-ho x fem!reader Summary: Dae-ho felt the need to protect you, but didn't expect how starstruck he could be when you returned the favor. Words: 1k Warnings: death, guns, swearing, violence, normal squid game stuff lols A/n: I hope I didn't make this too Y/n lmao ♡ ~🍡🍡

It's definitely hard to trust people here, to say the least. You see it all, just about. The blood of hundreds stains your clothes, and the screams you’ll probably have in your nightmares feel like a fever dream. Your survival instinct can only get you so far, though, and you know it. You need to find a backup.

You expect some kind of weapon to fill the gap in your barrier. You could break a mirror in the bathrooms, maybe? It's an understatement to say the supplies are limited, and you just barely make it through the last game. You can tell you're a target. Maybe not a huge one, but everybody here has someone after them, and it's easy and difficult at the same time to be discreet here.

But it isn't a weapon you get for help--it's a man. He doesn't hesitate to help you out when you need it, and you know that he’s valuable in this setting. You call him Dae-ho. Probably because that's his name, but it still has some meaning to you. Hopefully to him, too. It feels right, rolling off of your tongue, but you digress.

He seems to care about you, at least compared to some of the heartless shells of people here. You've both found solace in each other, and he truly made you feel safe, even if you had only known each other for a few days. You talk to one another. He tells you about his life, his past. You tell him about your past, your life. It's a small feeling of comfort, at least to you.

You're snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of lights out being announced by that cold voice that makes your skin shiver. You kick your legs, sitting on a bed as you look at Dae-ho across the room. He's discussing something with his little group. He'd previously invited you to join, but you said you'd rather keep your circle small. You swing your legs, looking at his face. It's very serious, but he's pretty far away. He says something, and then you feel his eyes on you. He nods briefly at someone else as he heads to you. Your face shows concern as his serious demeanor doesn't falter.

"You need to be near us tonight, preferably in our base." You think he's joking, but you don't laugh, just in case.

""Base"?" You ask, smiling. "Why?" He rolls his eyes a bit, but you can't say you blame him. "I can handle myself." He raises an eyebrow and smiles.

"I'm not going to argue with you about that, but I could." You squint at him but chuckle. "Mr. Seong says people are going to fight tonight. He has a plan to keep us safe, and he said you can join."

"I thought we were gonna place bets." You smile. "My money is on that greasy guy who hangs out with the purple-haired asshole." He doesn't look amused, so you sigh. "How do you know he's not trying to get you killed?" You ask, dropping your egotistic demeanor.

"All he does is try to help us. Please." He says, pleading with you to have some common sense. You knew you would eventually accept, but you didn't like the thought.

"I'll think about it, alright?" He sighs and smiles a little. He knows he should take what he can get, but he hates the thought of someone hurting you.

Dae-ho isn't sure why he's taken the responsibility to protect you, but he has. He thinks of you like a flower sometimes. He can't make you take care of yourself if you don't want to, but he knows he's going to protect you anyway because everybody deserves a chance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were lost in your thoughts, breaking out when you hear the robotic voice again.

"Player 230, 401, 299, 331, and 268, eliminated."

What? How? Your eyes track the room and land on Dae-ho, who's staring at the guards, confused. You make eye contact briefly, before people emerge from the bathrooms.

They go on to accuse each other of attacking the opposing team, creating an edge in the room. You're not listening very closely, though. Maybe Dae-ho was on to something when he said you should hide tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Update: He very much was right.

But you can't really think about that because there are far bigger issues at hand.

The lights are flickering so intensely you're afraid they might explode, and there's too much yelling and screaming to organize your thoughts. People are moving everywhere like scattering ants, and everything is a weapon for everyone. There's blood, a lot of it, all over the floor. You run, but it's like playing operation with corpses. You have scrapes from falling off your bed and defending yourself as you regret acting tough to Dae-ho.

Your ears are ringing, only because of a punch you just took. Everything is moving at the speed of light, and you don't have time to catch up. You kick back and stun the other person enough to run away. You feel a hand on your shoulder as you whip around, ready to fight.

To your brief luck, it's Dae-ho. He says something you can't hear and then pushes you behind him. You almost scoff if you weren't truly afraid for your life. He punches the person following you but quickly takes one himself. You try to move him, but he blocks your entrance again. You shout to him, telling him to let you help, but he probably can't hear you. You see someone holding a glass bottle sprinting to you, and your instinct finally kicks in. Literally.

You shift to the left and swiftly kick them, stunning them enough to drop their bottle as you punch them, their head ramming against a bed frame as they slide down, eyes closed. You force yourself to look away from the small pool of blood forming and push down the sick feeling in your stomach. You look for Dae-ho, to see him still fighting. He appears to be losing, though you can't hold it against him.

You don't hesitate to pull the guy off of him, grabbing his shirt from behind and throwing him down as best you could. He sits up, but you kick him hard in the face, knocking him out. You're better at this than you thought. You see another lady running to you, screaming. You quickly pick up the discarded glass bottle and shatter it against her skull. The lights turn on as guards rush in, appearing to stop the fighting.

You pant, wiping unknown blood from your face as you look to Dae-ho. You expect him to look horrified at least, but he's simply staring at you. You tilt your head at him.

"You... handled that." He says, grabbing your arm and bringing you to his "base".

"I said I could," you smirk, "You seem surprised."

"No, I'm impressed." He laughs dryly.

That stressful moment didn’t feel like it would ever end, but it did, and you found yourself still standing. Or at least, still breathing. Dae-ho was too, which was the only thing you cared about at the moment. You leaned against the wall, your body trembling from the adrenaline. He was sitting across from you, his eyes anywhere but you.

"You're full of surprises," he says, his body seemed to hint at something softer than what his voice did.

"You thought I wasn't?" you say, a smirk tugging at your lips.

"I never said that." He pauses, looking at his hands before looking at you. "I'm just happy you're okay."

His words linger in the air for a moment, and you’re unsure how to respond. You’d only met him a few days ago, but Dae-ho had become more than just an ally. He was someone you could trust in a place where trust was a gamble most people couldn’t afford to make.

"You didn't have to stick your neck out for me," you say, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice wavers slightly.

"I wanted to," he replies simply, as though the decision had been easy. He finally drags his eyes to look at you. "You make this mess... bearable."

You feel your cheeks flush despite the blood coating your skin. His honesty is unexpected, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Not anymore. You’d seen too much in such a short time to waste moments of purity.

"Dae-ho," you start, but his name on your tongue makes you falter. You take a breath and try again. "I don’t know how much longer either of us will make it here, but... you give me hope in this place, I guess."

His smile is small, but it reaches his eyes this time. He shifts closer, closing the space between you two. "Then we survive for each other. Okay?"

You nod, a warmth blooming in your chest that you hadn’t felt in what seemed like years.

For the first time in what feels like forever, the world outside of this moment feels small. The chaos, the blood, the fear—all of it fades away. In its place is Dae-ho, his presence holding your soul in an unfamiliar but welcome warmth.

You're both specks of dust in a hurricane, and you both know it. But, for this moment, you know you'll have a place to rest in the heart of this chaos. You can't say you're in love, but as he gently rests his hand over yours, you can't say you couldn't be.

So, I kind of love this, lmk what you think ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

~🍡🍡

#mocchii writes #squid game #squid game x reader #kang dae ho x reader #dae ho x reader #dae ho squid game #kang dae ho #dae ho #dae ho fluff #player 388 x reader #player 388 #dae ho x you

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sound-of-scoups · 2 days ago

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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.”

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.

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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maretinelli · 21 hours ago

Text

A GREAT MOTHER TO BE

Oscar Piastri X Dentist!fem!reader

Summary: Y/n Piastri has a pediatric dentist office and this leads to many fun conversations with the children. Oscar overhears one of the genuine conversations and is sure that she will be a great mother in a few months.

Words: 1.7K+

Warnings: Cute, mention of Y/n's work, cute patients, Y/n's pregnancy, Husband and wife, and again, so cute

Author: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story. And you can request stories on my profile❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

Y/n always said her job was an adventure. Each child who entered her office brought a unique personality and stories that made them laugh, reflect and, often, be enchanted.

As a pediatric dentist, she knew it wasn't just about caring for children's teeth, but also about creating a safe and welcoming environment for little ones to feel comfortable.

At the end of each day, it was almost a ritual for her to come home and tell stories to Oscar, who listened attentively while caressing his wife's belly, which was already rounded by four months of pregnancy.

He loved listening to her describe the children's antics, laughing at their imitations or exaggerated expressions as he recounted how the unlikely conversations between her and her patients took place.

At the moment, Y/n was working another day at the office. Y/n gently adjusted her stool and leaned towards her little patient, a four-year-old girl named Emily. With golden curls tied with a blue ribbon, Emily was the definition of curiosity.

"Okay, Emily, I'm going to use this little mirror here to take a look at your teeth, okay?" Y/n said with a reassuring smile, turning the small dental mirror in her hand.

Emily nodded quietly, but as soon as Y/n took the mirror out of her mouth, the inevitable question came.

"Why is he so small?"

Y/n chuckled softly, keeping her tone calm and playful. "Because I need it to fit in your little mouth. If it were bigger, you wouldn't be able to see everything properly, right?"

"Ah... so he's like a princess mirror?" Emily concluded, her eyes shining.

"Exactly!" Y/n replied, finding the comparison amusing. "And with it, I can see all the hidden parts of your teeth castle." Y/n smiled at the girl and turned her amused gaze to Emily's mother, who was watching the procedure. "She's so sweet!" Y/n said smiling.

Emily's mother laughs in agreement. "And very curious, you see."

Satisfied with the explanation, Emily opened her mouth again. Y/n picked up an instrument to check for a small cavity, but as soon as she took it out, another question popped up.

"What is that? A paintbrush?"

"It's an instrument that helps me clean places where the brush can't reach" Y/n explained. "It's like a magic broom to keep everything clean."

"My mom will want one of these!" Emily responded excitedly, eliciting a laugh from Yin and her mother who was sitting in an armchair at the back of the office.

Outside, Oscar had parked his car in the parking lot and entered his wife's office. He smiles at the receptionist and she briefly says that Y/n was answering. Already knowing that he was her boss's husband.

Oscar smiles in agreement. "Oh sure, I was a little early, just..." He looks at his watch and smiles. "We have an appointment to see our baby in an hour."

The receptionist smiles and nods. And then the pilot walks down the hallway until he reaches the waiting room, which was in front of Y/n's office.

The environment was so colorful and full of life from the children passing by that Oscar felt more and more anxious to have his baby in his arms.

With the door to her office half open, Oscar could hear his wife talking calmly to the child she was treating, while the little one laughed and asked more questions about the dental equipment she used.

He couldn't stop smiling when he heard how Y/n handled the little girl with so much patience and affection, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

As Y/n explained each step to Emily, Oscar found himself thinking about what it would be like when it was their baby there, asking the same curious questions and seeking answers with the same sweetness.

Y/n adjusted the instruments on the tray beside her while little Emily lay there, waiting patiently.

"We're almost done, princess" Y/n said with a warm smile, standing up to get more gauze from the nearby cabinet. As she stood up, she instinctively placed a hand under her belly, the gesture so natural that she didn't even notice.

Emily, however, widened her eyes at the movement and pointed, with an innocent and curious smile.

"Ah, you have a baby with you!"

Y/n chuckled, turning to the little girl as she picked up the gauze. "Yes, I have a baby here with me."

"Do you take him everywhere?" Emily asked naively, her eyes shining with curiosity.

Y/n and the girl's mother laughed at the comment.

"Yes, I will. But only for nine months," Y/n replied, sitting back down in the chair next to the little girl. "Actually, after I'm done here with you, I also have an appointment to see how he's doing."

Emily opened her mouth, eager for Y/n to continue the procedure, but she couldn't hold back the questions. As soon as Y/n finished, Emily leaned forward in her chair and asked excitedly.

"And what is his name? Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"

Y/n arranged the instruments and smiled. "My husband and I haven't decided on a name yet, but it's a little boy."

Emily smiled even wider. Y/n helped her down from the chair and the little girl ran to her mother. Before leaving, Y/n took out a 'certificate of courage' and a shiny star pin and handed them to Emily.

"There you go, you were a very brave patient today!" Y/n said, handing over the items.

Emily looked at the brooch and certificate as if they were treasures and, before leaving with her mother, she turned to Y/n with an unexpected request.

"Could... could you bring a picture of the baby for me to see at my next appointment?"

Y/n chuckled softly, bending down to her level. "Of course. Next time, I'll bring a picture of my boy for you to see. But only if you promise me you'll brush your teeth properly, okay?"

Emily smiled excitedly and nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, Oscar, who was still watching everything from the half-open door, felt his heart tighten. He already knew that Y/n was special, but seeing her like this, so natural, so affectionate with the children, only reinforced how lucky he was to have her.

Y/n gave him a gentle smile as she opened the office door, before turning to Emily's mother.

"If you can avoid sweets for now and help her brush her teeth after meals, I believe she won't have any more pain. We look forward to seeing you next week."

Emily's mother thanked her, and the little girl gave Y/n a tight hug before running out of the office, she smiled excitedly and ran in front of her mother, stopping at the reception to show the brooch to the receptionist.

Oscar then approached his wife, smiling as she watched the girl walk away. He gave her a soft kiss on the forehead.

"How are you, love?"

Y/n sighed, a calm smile on her lips.

"I'm fine, I'm just going to pack up before we go to the appointment."

Oscar walked her back to the office, watching her as she organized the instruments. He knew their lives would change completely in the coming months, but at that moment, he knew for sure that Y/n would be an incredible mother.

"You have a gift, you know?"

"Why?" Y/n asked curiously as she sanitized the instruments.

"The way you deal with these children. The patience, the calm manner... You can see how safe they feel with you."

Y/n blushed slightly. "Ah, it's work, Osc. We adapt."

Oscar shook his head, approaching his wife. "No, it's you. And I have no doubt: in a few months, you're going to be an incredible mother."

His words took her by surprise, and Y/n felt her eyes well up. She smiled, moving closer to him and placing a hand on her belly.

"I hope you're right, because I'm counting on your help, Mr. Piastri."

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Always. Now let's go see how daddy's little boy is doing." He placed a hand on her back as he guided her to the office door.

She laughs. "No, he's definitely a mommy's boy. Isn't he, son?" She runs her hands over her belly and the baby moves. "Look, he moved. That means he agrees with me."

Oscar chuckled, bending down slightly to get closer to Y/n's belly. He gently ran his hand over the spot where the baby had moved.

"Little guy, listen to Daddy. You're my partner, right? You're going to help me with Mommy when she starts saying she's the boss around here."

Y/n gave a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Do you really think he'll take your side?"

Oscar looked up at her, a mischievous smile on his face. "I'm sure. We're already a team!"

"Of course they are..." Y/n replied, amused, running her hand through her husband's hair. "Until he's born, then he'll understand that, deep down, he's a mommy's little boy."

"We'll see!" Oscar teased and laced his fingers through hers as they walked down the hallway. "But in the meantime, let's see how our little champion is doing."

"Little champion?" Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Are you putting pressure on him already, Piastri?"

Oscar made an innocent gesture with his hands. "Not at all. I'm just saying that if he's half as good as you, he's already a champion."

Y/n stopped for a moment in the hallway, looking at him with a look full of tenderness. She leaned in and gave him a brief but meaningful kiss on the lips.

"You know how to make me emotional, you know?"

He smiled, squeezing her hand affectionately. "It's easy, you're everything to me."

And with that, Oscar opened the office door and led her to the car, as they laughed together about who the baby would choose as his favorite in the future.

That moment, so simple, yet so full of love and companionship, reinforced what Y/n already knew: They were not just a couple, they were a team, ready to face any challenge while anxiously awaiting the arrival of the baby that was already so loved.

#fanfiction #y/n #romance #lovers #imagines #marriage #one shot #formula 1 #formula one #fem reader #imagines oscar piastri #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader

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concretejunglefm · 2 days ago

Text

I'm not ready to let you forget me (part 1).

*edit credit goes to the lovely @defuckingthrone-dot-com

You told your friends you want me dead And said that I did everythin' wrong And you're not wrong

An anon request for lovers to enemies

Summary: It’s been two years since Noah cheated on you, abruptly ending your relationship. However, the universe seems to have a peculiar sense of humor in its plan to reunite you.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader.

CW: none really. Mentions of cheating, Noah can be an overall asshole and a tad bit of angst.

WC: 3.2k.

Dividers: Silent-stories.

Had Noah cheated, you believe that you could've handled everything a lot better, but somehow what he did had been worse.

It wasn't cheating, even if you couldn't ignore the pit in your stomach when you thought about him and her together.

Noah's ex had joined the last leg of his tour as an opening act, and while under any other circumstances it wouldn't have bothered you, his nonchalant attitude about it did.

This had been a man who spent time after time cursing her out to you, pushing aside any doubts or worries you had felt when it came to her, and now he didn't care if she was joining him in the most important aspect of his life.

Even worse was how he’d knocked back your own suggestion of joining him.

"It's only for a few days. I'll get to watch you play, and we can see it as a vacation." "You can see it as that. For me, it's work, babe. You know that, and you know how important it is to me." "I know I just thought." "Well, don't. Not this time. Maybe next time."

You did your best to brush off the hurt at the time, and now again as the memory resurfaces.

Noah didn't cheat, but what he did was close enough to make you feel heartbroken and forgotten about.

Messages and calls came less and less during this leg, and now you were sitting up early Saturday morning going through the posts on your Twitter feed like a fool, allowing yourself to be more hurt with each one that you came across.

@badoxmens: Did you see Noah and his ex on stage last night?

@ieatconcreeete: I hope this means they're finally getting back together !!

@artitficalsuicide: If I were his girlfriend, I would hate myself right now.

@deduckingthrone: Noah has a girlfriend? Are you sure? Him and his ex looked pretty cozy if he does.

The videos and pictures which accompanied the tweets did nothing to ease the rising bile in your throat, and every attempt to reach Noah was left unanswered.

Noah ignored every single text and call you made to him, not bothering to even make it obvious that he was ignoring you, the delivered and read notifications driving you mad until you had to stop yourself altogether.

Instead of breaking up with you, he ghosted you, your only proof of this coming a week later when another set of videos and photos showed up on your feed of him attending the album launch party of his ex.

There was no ignoring the closeness between them, the way he lingered by her in the one video, the way they were caught slipping off together and hovering a little too closely in another.

You almost went to write out a long-winded text, one full of all your feelings for everything that had transpired over the past week, but instead settled for a simple 'fuck you'. Even going as far as to block and delete his number to not allow for any temptation in reaching out to him.

You deserved better than this, that whatever had transpired for Noah to play with your feelings in this manner and you decided then that you'd do whatever it took to move on.

"What you need is a girls’ trip." The suggestion from your best friend came as no surprise, Sloan would always choose a spa day or a girls’ trip whenever she felt a need to unwind, which was practically every week according to her.

"Huh?" You snap back from your own thoughts, mindlessly stirring a spoon in your latte.

"Babe, please tell me that you are not still hung up on that guy." You hear both the pity and disdain in her tone.

To Sloan boys were nothing more than toys to be played with, to be thrown down and picked back up whenever she wanted. That was her trick to not being hurt.

"It's been two years."

"I know." You don't even need to give her a real answer for her to know, but it still doesn't stop your mind from wandering and from the pang in your chest each time you think about him.

“Girls’ trip, this weekend and I'm not taking no for an answer."

You wish that she had taken no for an answer.

A girl’s trip sounded delightful until she suggested Vegas and you were squeezing yourself onto a last-minute flight there. You wouldn't have minded had it not been for the fact that your seats were apart from one another and you had been given a middle seat, which meant you were now stuck in between two strangers.

Moving along the aisle towards your seat, you slide your weekend bag from your shoulder and toss it into the overhead bin. Looking down at your ticket, you confirm the seat number and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as you tap on the shoulder of the man sitting on the end seat, covered up with a black hoodie.

"Excuse me. I'm 33B." You gesture to the empty space beside him, and the minute you catch a familiar pair of brown eyes gaze back at you, you feel your heart plummet into your stomach and bile rising up your throat.

Noah.

You're ready to make a dash towards the back of the plane, either to throw up in the bathroom or attempt to throw yourself out of the emergency exit.

"Sor—."

He cuts himself off on the sight of you, and you huff as he moves himself and allows for you to squeeze past.

When you fall into the middle seat, you find Jolly sitting on the other side of you and realize that they must be on their way to a show.

In Vegas?

You almost turn and ask him but decide not to. You spent the last two years ignoring his and his band's existence; you can do that for another hour on this flight.

When you dare a glance in Jolly's direction, he's already sliding his headphones on and looking out of the window, completely disengaging himself. You're almost jealous. You'd do anything to disappear from this moment's event, even exchange seats with the Swede so as not to be sat next to Noah.

As the flight pulls out to taxi, you feel Noah's leg bouncing against your own. You know it's his nerves. He's always been a nervous flyer, and it makes you wonder why he's choosing to fly instead of driving to Vegas.

You mentally smack yourself because it's not your place to wonder these things or even care about them anymore.

"Will you stop that?" You finally voice your annoyance as the plane begins its descent down the runway.

"You know I'm a nervous flyer!" He retorts, and yes, you do know, but he's not supposed to highlight that fact.

“Yeah, but it's annoying." You snipe beneath your breath.

"I can't help it!"

You sound like a couple of squabbling kids, and you hit your knee against his as if to prove a point for him to stop, but he only bounces his leg harder.

It's as if he's purposely trying to piss you off, and unfortunately for you, it's working.

"Just—" You reach over and press your hand down on his thigh, forcing his leg still. "There. Stop."

He does stop, but then you feel his larger tattooed hand atop yours, and his fingers slip beneath and around your own as if choosing to accept this as you giving him some form of comfort.

You're not, but you can hardly pull your hand away as the plane begins to take off and you feel his fingers tightening around yours, signifying his general fear and discomfort over flying.

That is until you're hit with the reminder that this guy ghosted you, and you owe him nothing.

You snatch your hand back, glaring at him as he looks down at you.

"What was that for?"

“Oh, please, you're a big boy. Hold your own damn hand if you're that scared." You don't hold back on the mockery in your tone, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I was always there for you, and this is how you repay me?"

“Oh, please, you were there for your own ego."

You feel Noah lean in closer to you and you edge yourself away as best as you can without causing too much disruption to Jolly tucked in the window seat.

"You could at least try to make this work."

You hear him whisper, and your mouth drops open due to the utter audacity this man has to even suggest such a thing.

"Why would I do that when you did such a great job proving you're not worth the effort?" You snipe back, keeping your voice low.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're really choosing now to play dumb? God, you really are all muscle and no brains now, aren't you?"

You couldn't ignore the fact that over the past two years he had buffed out even more than you can remember.

Noah had always been physically fit during the time you were together, with muscles coming in, but there was something more toned and larger about him now.

It was a noticeable enough sight that could have any girl drooling over him.

But not you.

You refused to engage with the thought.

"So what you're saying is you think I look hot?"

You don't need to look at him to see it; you can hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes you shake with anger at how unfazed he appears by all of this.

You can't resist jabbing your elbow into his side, resulting in him letting out a whine which draws the attention of passengers around you to look over.

"What was that for?" Noah grumbles, bringing a hand to his side as he rubs the spot you’d caught.

"Because you're a dumbass." You spit out between gritted teeth.

"Excuse me, is there a problem here?" You haven't even noticed the seatbelt signs turn off, and when you look up, you spot a young air hostess peering in at you both. The moment her eyes catch sight of Noah, you spot that sudden flash of recognition in her own.

"Here we go," You mumble under your breath, rolling your own eyes as you direct your head forward and press back against the headrest.

You wait to hear it, his charm that he always uses whenever there's a fan who recognizes him in a place he doesn't want to be noticed.

He's suave with it, and it always made you swoon in the beginning because you believed that he was merely trying to seek out his privacy for you both, but now you realize it was just one of his many tactics for keeping up some reputation he felt the need to uphold.

"Well, well... It looks like someone has good taste in music. You just made my day… but if you don't mind keeping it between us?"

You scoff and press your lips together when feeling the heat of a stare on you, but the air hostesses' quiet giggling is enough to prove that his little charm worked.

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes. "Real smooth." You remark once she leaves down the plane aisle to attend to another passenger.

"It worked on you, didn't it?"

"Don't flatter yourself. That was after five drinks, and I'd been eyeing up Folio all night."

"Oh—"

"Will you both quit it before I bang your heads together!" Jolly cuts Noah off, interrupting your squabbling.

"She started it." Noah argues, and your head turns back to him as you shoot him a glare.

If looks could kill, you'd have done it multiple times by now.

The rest of the flight wasn't any easier, between playing elbow hockey with Noah over the armrest and more snide remarks, you were thankful the moment the plane came into land, unbuckling your belt and attempting to move the moment the seatbelt sign turned off.

"The plane hasn't even come to a stop." Noah points out as you attempt to stand, ushering him to move out of your way.

"I don't care, just move." You huff and glare down at him as he remains still, his tattooed hands sitting and tapping on his thighs, barely giving you a brief glance.

"Not even a please? You're so rude."

You know that you shouldn’t, but you begin to attempt climbing over him, holding onto the seat in front as you try to drag yourself past him and over his lap, muttering as you go. "And you are absolutely incorrigible."

"Wow, that's a new one. Is it your word of the day?"

You glance behind him and see him attempting to push back into his seat more, as if that's helping you in any way, and when you see his hand raise, you instinctively swat at it with the assumption he's going to touch you.

"Ow?! There was no need for that."

Finally free from your row, you huff and pull yourself together, reaching for the overhead bin and pulling out your bag.

“Well, this was fun. I really hope we never have to do it again." You glare at him and begin making your way down the aisle with the rest of the passengers towards the exit door.

You've never been happier to see the back of a plane in your life, moving as fast as your legs will let you through the crowd of people, almost missing the sound of Sloan's voice as she calls after you.

"Wait up, speedy!" She laughs as she finally catches up, and you come to a slow down, shaking your head free of all the thoughts which had been swirling around in there due to the unexpected reunion you just briefly had with your ex.

"Sorry. I just had to get out of there."

"That wasn't who I think it was, was it?" You spare a glance over at Sloan, and your irritated expression gives that answer away. "It was? What was he doing on a plane to Vegas?"

"I can't say I really cared to ask him, Sloan." Your tone has a bite still left over from the sniping that you and Noah had done. "Sorry, he just really gets under my skin."

"I can see that."

"The sooner we're at the hotel, the better. Then I can wash this whole thing off me, and we can finally start enjoying our girls' weekend."

"Yes! Girls’ weekend. No talk about stupid boys." Sloan slips her arm around yours, linking you together as she lets out an excited 'woohoo'. It makes you laugh, and you finally feel the tension that being sat next to Noah for the last hour had caused, slipping away.

It's a feeling which is short-lived, however.

After making your way through the airport and standard checks, you reach the taxi rank outside, and as you open the door, you turn back to call for Sloan, only to be met with the 6'3 asshole who's covered in tattoos.

“Oh, thanks, you shouldn't have." He flashes you a grin as he slides into your taxi, followed by Jolly, who offers you a brief apologetic look. Maybe you should've been giving him a harder time if he was enabling this stupid behavior.

You stand speechless as they pull the door close, tossing daggers at the cab as it drives away and a scream rumbles in your throat.

"Where's the taxi?" Sloan asks as she chooses now to join you. You grumble something incoherent under your breath as you turn to wave down the next incoming taxi.

She's now joining Noah and Jolly on your shit list.

"It's going to be perfect! There's a spa, three pool areas. One of them is an infinity pool off the balcony upstairs." Sloan continues to drone on about the hotel and everything it includes. You only have a weekend here, but she's already planning multiple ways for you to take advantage of everything.

Currently, your mind is back on Noah and his stupid, smug ass face as he stole your taxi. You try to distract yourself from it, shaking him from your thoughts and coming back into the present, to this weekend.

Seeing him was a blip, but you refused to allow him to derail your plans or excitement.

Counting the room numbers down the hallway, you look up as you come closer to yours, room number: 308.

Sloan has the room opposite you, disappearing inside after making plans to knock on after shower and changing. A shower sounds perfect right about now, not only to wash off the plane smell but also with being in such proximity to Noah in general.

As you fiddle with the room key, you hear a familiar voice, which causes your back to raise. Turning your head, you peer down the hallway, watching a group of familiar faces grow nearer to you. Noah is the one trailing behind, while Folio and Matt's voices are the ones you hear echoing down the hall.

You hastily attempt to open your hotel room door, being met with the red light before trying again.

You huff and close your eyes to calm yourself from growing irrationally angry.

Hearing the voices past you, you open your eyes and look back to find Noah standing at the door next to yours, room number: 310.

"Hey, neighbor." Noah flashes you a grin, and you shake your head in protest.

"No."

"No?" He repeats back at you in a question, his brows knitting together. "What do you mean no?"

"I mean no, we are not neighbors, and you cannot be here. Not in this room, not in this hotel. Hell, not even in this state." You're being irrational, but you never did quite have much rationality when it came to him. You always found yourself diving in headfirst to whatever thought crossed your mind.

"And who said this? You?" Noah raises a brow at you, taking a step closer as he leans a hand against the wall.

He easily towers over you, and under any other circumstance before now, that would have you weak at the knees and buckling for him, but right now it has you infuriated that he's somehow here, ruining your weekend and attempting to charm you.

"Yes."

"Still as bossy as ever, I see."

"And you're still an asshole." You snipe back, your eyes narrowing, still attempting to get your keycard in your door and slip away from this conversation.

"Ouch, that hurt." Noah raises his free hand, bringing it to his chest, feigning a tone of disbelief and hurt while you roll your eyes in response.

“Oh, please, that would insinuate you had any feelings to begin with."

"I have a lot of feelings, actually. Such as feeling sorry for you while watching you struggle with something so easy. Here, let me."

Before you have a chance to protest, he's reaching out to take your hotel room key and slips it into the swipe, drawing it out to a flashing green light.

You huff as you open the door, pushing forward, and the last thing you hear before the door slams is another final snarky remark from him; "Not even a thank you?"

Once in the safety of your room, you let out a loud scream of frustration, only to hear Noah's chuckle from the other side of the door, and you gently bang the back of your head against the door as you lean back on it.

Great, now you really can't escape him this weekend.

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian angst #asshole!noah sebastian #concretejunglefm fics

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tinylilacbun · 3 days ago

Note

I feel like the whole kidnapping situation would give reader so much stress in the first few weeks that her little side would sometimes slip out, even tho she tries to repress. She would whimper and try to suck her thumb as a self soothing habit almost unintentionally, and everytime jj tries to gain her trust and replace her thumb with his, she would slap his hand or jerk away. But as the months go by and the "trust" comes, he would be the one cuddling her and giving her his thumb (even at the times he's the reason she's sad, because he's manipulative like that)

You're trying so, so hard to keep your composure. It's been days or even weeks, you don't even know anymore, having completely lost a sense of time in this cramped bedroom, at least you know when it's day or night thanks to the windows that are sealed shut.

Your mind has been screaming at you to regress, to get a break from the constant stress you're being faced with but keep telling yourself that you can handle this, that you'll find a way out and everything will be over.

JJ makes sure you're always confronted with your little space to give you no choice but to regress at some points, just like the pacifier that's laying on the nightstand that you don't dare to touch and give him the satisfaction that he's getting to you.

Or the plushie that you keep throwing across the room whenever he places it back beside you, and the only source of warmth is the colorful blanket with tiny bunnies printed on it.

As the time passes by JJ checks up on you more often during the day, not just to give you food water, or taking you to the bathroom when needed, because your resolve begins to crumble the more he's being gentle with you.

You're so in your head that you don't even notice when your thumb makes its way into your mouth, closing your eyes as you soothe yourself and try to blend out the way the handcuff on your left wrists that's attached to the headboard digs into your skin.

You don't even flinch when you feel the bed dip, only opening your eyes as you feel a hand running through your hair, seeing JJ sitting beside you with a soft smile on his face.

Your body doesn't even tense up as it used to whenever he is near, you even start to appreciate the little bits of affection he gives you.

You've made so much progress without even realizing, not flinching away or talking back to him as you did at the start.

You're completely overwhelmed with everything lately, not understanding what's going on in your head, why you can't bring yourself to claw at his face or keep fighting his every attempt of being close to you.

The tears start to slip before you can stop them, sniffling into the pillow as you sink into that familiar floaty feeling you always have whenever you regress.

You don't even resist when JJ moves to lay down beside you, carefully manoeuvring you to cradle you in his arms, covering you with your blanket as you quietly weep into his shirt.

"Sh, I know, it's okay. Papa's got you." He murmurs, his chin resting on top of your head as he rocks you back and forth gently.

Papa. He keeps addressing himself with that title. You don't even know his real name, he never mentioned it or found it necessary to tell you since he'll only be papa to you, nothing else.

JJ's has waited so long to get you to this point, to make you crave his comfort, the way he assures you that you don't have to worry about anything anymore, that he'll always be there to protect.

He slowly grabs your wrist to pull your thumb out of your mouth, quickly replacing it with his before you could protest, breathing out when you seem to accept it and nuzzle more into his body warmth.

"There we go. You're all good, little bun." He hums, reaching into his pocket with his free hand to get out a set of keys, carefully unlocking the cuff around your wrist for the first time in weeks, tracing the red mark before wrapping his arm around you again.

He presses a kiss against your hairline, getting a little more comfortable on the bed with you cuddled against him, tucking the lovey - that he stole from your house just before he kidnapped you - into your arms, smiling when you instinctively hug it closer to your chest. "Things will get better, you'll see. As long as you behave we could have it real nice."

#chasing shadow au #stalker!jj drabble #little!reader

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redroomreflections · 3 days ago

Text

Hotel California | Track 14 : Between the Stars

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 5.7k

Chapter 14/18

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: This is a span of a couple days in their lives.

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

You're sitting in the hair and makeup chair with Cece, your stylist, and a lifelong friend, and you’re kind of nervous. You thought you could handle things like this. After all, you’ve been around Hollywood’s elite for most of your life. You’re a decent performer, a great publicist, and you’ve always been good at working a room. Public speaking? No problem. Memorizing a script or delivering a speech? Easy. You’d probably do well at the whole celebrity thing. So, why does this have you on edge?

This press run has been something out of a dream—an opportunity for which you’re genuinely grateful. But still, your nerves buzz under your skin. You’d had a taste of fame before, back when you won that Grammy for songwriting, but this? This feels different. Your frontal lobe’s fully developed now. You’re painfully aware of every word, every glance, every judgment. And this time, the spotlight isn’t on your work. It’s on you—and something as personal as your relationship.

You try to focus as Cece chats about some new trend on a social media app you’re not even on. Her hands move precisely, sectioning your hair while Cole, your makeup artist, preps your skin. The two of them work in sync, and you feel utterly pampered. Every brushstroke and spritz is meant to make you shine. But even under their care, the knot in your stomach doesn’t unravel.

You smile at Cece’s story, pretending to keep up, but your mind wanders. You remind yourself you’re here for a reason.

Promote the single. Promote Velvet Rebellion's new album.

******

The softly lit studio is quiet and intimate. The setup is personal— a solid background, two chairs angled toward each other, and a table between them. Natasha is already sitting, effortlessly poised. She leaned back in her chair, the picture of laid-back confidence. Her faded red Rolling Stones shirt peeked out from under a well-loved leather jacket, paired with black jeans that clung just right and boots that had seen some stories. Everything about her was effortless, cool, and completely her. You couldn't hide your approval of the outfit as you complimented her.

"You look so good, baby," you cooed. "I love the leather."

She smiled at the compliment and watched as you sat down.

"Thank you," she said. "And you," she continued, "You look like a fucking dream. As always."

You wore a fitted button-down with rolled sleeves and wide-leg pants. There was just enough cleavage to be tempting, but it was the way the shirt hugged your curves and the pants draped around your ass that had her eyes glued to you.

"You know, we need to go shopping together more often," you said, "If you're going to show up looking this good."

"Well, it's not like you don't look good in everything." She paused for a moment.

"You're such a charmer," You laughed. "Shall we get into this whole interview thing?"

Natasha smirked, "Let's. Do you want to go first, or shall I?"

"Oh, you should start." You said. "Since you're the famous one."

Natasha let out a laugh, "Alright, famous one it is. " She shuffled her cards around. "Can your partner cook? What's their favorite dish?"

"Hmm, it's a little debatable whether or not you can cook yet," you answered. "You have some potential, but I don't think you've mastered anything."

"I'm getting there."

"Well, you've gotten a lot better. Anyway, your favorite is mac and cheese. Kraft, to be specific."

"It's comfort food."

"Yes, yes. I know," You looked at the camera. "She's lectured me on it a few times since I don't consider it a meal."

"And she's wrong," Nat said.

"Let's move on," You grinned. "What's their favorite TV show?" You took a moment to think. "Hmm, I think Natasha loves The Nanny. That's a classic, and we watch it together some nights. Right now, she's binging Sons of Anarchy."

"And what's yours?"

"Ooh, I'm a little embarrassed to say it. Mine's Pretty Little Liars. I know, I know. It's a bit juvenile, but there's no shame in guilty pleasure shows."

Natasha smiled, "I've seen an episode or two. Not my thing, but I can appreciate a good plot line."

"I guess the next question is," Nat continued. "Who's more likely to be late?"

"Natasha is."

"And Y/n is." She countered.

"Okay, okay. Maybe we're both a little late sometimes," You said. "Ohh, this is a deep one. How's your partner's relationship with their siblings? I guess we can answer for each other."

"You talk to your brother at least once a week, and I know you miss him," She tilted her head. "Your sister, you're quite close to her, too. I haven't met either of them yet, as they're both on opposite ends of the world."

"Yes, Chandra is in New York being her hot fashion model self," you nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Michael is somewhere in Europe right now with his wife and kids. They're travelers. Natasha's pretty close to her little sister, too. I think we both have pretty solid family units."

"Next question," Natasha said, glancing down at her cue card with a playful smirk. "Favorite quality about your partner. This one's easy for me. Y/n is incredibly supportive and nurturing. She's also a little badass. It's a sexy combination. I love that she can go from a power suit and killer heels to leggings and a messy bun in minutes and still be the same beautiful, confident, and powerful person. When we got together, I was attracted to her confidence and brains. She's still the same person she was when we first met—no Hollywood surprises with her."

"Wow, Tash," you said with a smile that softened your entire face. "You're too sweet. I don’t know how you do it, but somehow, you always make me melt." You paused, glancing at Natasha with a quiet reverence. "For me, Natasha is kind. And I don’t just mean she’s a nice person. There are perceptions you have when dating someone of status—whether they're a musician, athlete, or executive. Natasha is not only kind and considerate, but she’s humble. She’s real. What I love most about her is how she makes me feel safe. Not just physically safe but emotionally. I know I can tell her anything, and she won’t judge me or hurt me. She’ll always be honest with me. I think that’s why her music resonates so much. Especially our single, Obvious."

The perfect tie-in to the song—a natural choice and one that felt authentic coming from you. It left Natasha glowing, her smile stretching just a little wider.

"You're making me blush," She teased.

"I'm not even done yet," You smiled. "Natasha is smart. She is not just book-smart; she has a way of reading people that I find fascinating. And she's thoughtful. She thinks about the little things—like getting me a drink or bringing me my favorite candy after a long day at work. Or leave me a little note with my coffee in the morning."

Natasha looked bashful for a moment.

"You're one to talk," she said. "Y/n is... she's everything."

She reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing gently.

"I can't believe I'm so lucky to call her mine."

You gave her a wistful smile. "This whole interview is going to be a love fest."

"I don't mind," Nat grinned. “I’m sure the fans won’t either.”

"Me neither." You shuffled your cards. "I don't remember whose turn it is. What are your significant other's vices?"

"Oh boy," Natasha said. "She has a lot."

"I do not!"

"Okay, you don't. But let's see if we're talking about the good ones. She'll eat any sweets. Any. I'm surprised her teeth aren't rotten by now. And she can drink anyone under the table, no matter how hard they try."

"I've seen her get through an entire bottle of vodka and still sing the entirety of 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' perfectly," you said.

"Y/n doesn't have many bad habits. But, if I had to pick one, I'd say she likes to sleep in."

"I'd argue with that, but that's not a vice," You said. "My biggest vice is staying up too late. And sleeping in," You admitted, earning a laugh from Natasha.

"It's a miracle we get any sleep together," Natasha quipped.

"Alright, alright," You chuckled. "Favorite feature about your partner?"

"Oh, this is the one that made me pick these cards," She grinned.

"Is that so?"

"It is," Nat confirmed. "I don't know if I can pick a favorite. But if I had to choose, I'd say her smile. It lights up the room."

You were smiling, but not as wide as when she'd answered the question.

"That's sweet," You sighed. "I thought you were going to say my ass."

"I can't not say it, babe," Natasha said. "Your ass is... wow. It's a work of art."

"Well, I'll take that," You laughed.

"What's mine?" She asked.

"Easy," You replied. "Your eyes."

"Yeah?"

"Definitely. They're so expressive. Like, I can tell how you're feeling without even hearing you. And they're so green."

"That's the second time today you've made me blush," Natasha said with a small, sheepish smile, brushing a thumb over the edge of her cue card.

"Oh, there's a lot more where that came from," you teased, grinning as you shifted slightly in your seat. "We're only halfway through this interview."

"I'm not complaining," Natasha replied, the corners of her lips quirking up. She glanced down at the next question. "Next question. What is something your partner does that drives you crazy?"

"You know, it's funny," you started, tilting your head as you thought about it. "Natasha is so quiet at home. She's like a little cat that sneaks up on you. In another life, she could be a spy or something."

Natasha's laugh was warm and unguarded. "You know I've had a few offers."

"No kidding."

"No, seriously," she said, leaning forward slightly, her tone suddenly playful but sincere. "A few of my friends in the business have suggested it. But that's not something I'd do."

"Why not?" you asked, curiosity lighting up your face.

"Because I wouldn’t want to keep secrets," Natasha explained, her voice softening. "From you. From my family. Friends. I'm a pretty open book."

"Yeah, that's understandable."

The rest of the interview went smoothly, with questions and answers flowing easily. It was fun, and it was comfortable. By the time you finished, you felt more confident and at ease.

When the cameras stopped rolling and the lights were turned off, you stood, smoothing your shirt before contacting Natasha.

"Good job, babe," You said.

"You, too."

She hugged you, wrapping her arms around you and pressing her lips against your temple.

"Thank you," she murmured.

You closed your eyes and breathed in her scent, letting it wash over you, calming the butterflies in your stomach.

"What do you think?"

"I think we did well," Natasha replied.

"So, I did okay? My public speaking skills haven't gone completely out the window?"

"I was worried about nothing," Natasha said, a gentle chuckle escaping her.

"Oh, shut up," You rolled your eyes.

"I mean it. You did great."

"Thanks, Tash."

She smiled and leaned in to kiss you. You responded immediately, your lips parting slightly, letting her taste their sweetness.

"Hey," she murmured. "Let's get out of here. I want to spend some alone time with my girl."

You couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips, and you squeezed her hand.

"That sounds perfect."

"Not so fast, you two," Mitch stopped the both of you. "I still have a few TikTok posts that our social media manager wants to do."

"Seriously?"

"Sorry, it's not that bad," Mitch said. "You know the drill, Natasha. Let's get this over with. Then, you can go home and enjoy the rest of your night."

"Alright," Natasha agreed. "I'm going to have a drink after this," She said, pulling out her phone. "Let's do this."

Back in the dressing room is where the magic began.

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed loosely, as Natasha rolled her eyes with good-natured exasperation. Mitch handed her the phone, already queued up with the latest TikTok trend featuring one of the songs from Velvet Rebellion's album.

"This one’s easy," Ellisa, the social media manager for Velvet Rebellion, said, demonstrating a quick series of gestures. Natasha raised a skeptical brow at Mitch, watching the screen like she was analyzing a mission briefing.

"I feel like I’m too old for this," she muttered, passing the phone back to Elissa.

"You’re not old, Tash," you teased. "You’re seasoned. There’s a difference."

She shot you a mock glare, but the slight smirk on her lips gave her away. "Careful, or you’ll be joining me in this dance."

You laughed and held up your hands. "No way. I’m just here for moral support—and to thoroughly enjoy watching you do this."

Natasha sighed dramatically but started moving, mimicking the dance as best she could. Her moves were precise but slightly stiff, her usual grace overshadowed by the awkward rhythm of trying to keep up with a trend meant for teenagers.

"Is this even right?" she asked, glancing at Mitch.

"Close enough," Mitch replied, barely holding back a laugh.

You couldn’t help it; you started giggling; the sight of Natasha—usually so calm and composed—fumbling through exaggerated arm movements and head bobs was pure gold.

"Stop laughing!" she said, her voice laced with amusement as she paused mid-dance to point at you.

"I can’t help it! You’re just… too serious about it."

She cracked then, laughing along with you. "I’m serious because I don’t want this to haunt me on the internet forever."

"Trust me, no one’s going to be laughing at you," you said, still smiling. "Except maybe me. Forever."

Natasha finally finished the dance, breathing a relieved "Thank God" as Mitch nodded in approval.

"Perfect. That’s a wrap," Mitch said, pocketing the phone.

Natasha walked over to you, shaking her head. "You enjoyed that way too much."

"Every second of it," you admitted, still grinning. "But you looked adorable."

"Adorable wasn’t the vibe I was going for," she said, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Well, too bad. It suits you."

*********

A simple coffee run wasn’t simple. Not when you were Natasha Romanoff. Even something as mundane as picking up her favorite drink from the shop down the street turned into an event. Cameras clicked. Voices called out. There was no privacy, no room for messy buns or sweatpants. Not when every step outside was under public scrutiny.

Natasha walked out of the little café with a drink carrier in one hand; her leather jacket pulled snugly against the chill. Her sunglasses shielded her eyes, but you could tell by the slight furrow in her brow that the swarm of paparazzi wasn’t something she could just shrug off today.

You stayed close, matching her pace, your hands tucked into your jacket pockets. Talking wasn’t an option. Not with the cameras so close, their lenses hovering like vultures. Still, the brush of her shoulder against yours was enough.

"Natasha! Over here!" One of them shouted, their voice cutting through the air. She didn’t turn.

Another chimed in, louder, more deliberate. "Natasha, how do you feel about Carol being out of rehab? Are you going to visit her?"

Natasha's jaw ticked, and you immediately knew it was a sore subject. You lead her over to her car, opening the door for her letting her duck inside while you tossed her things into the back seat.

You ignored them, keeping your focus on Natasha.

"They really can't help themselves, can they?" She muttered as you slid into the passenger seat, her gaze fixed on the window.

"No," You replied. "But you don't have to talk to them."

She let out a dry laugh, the sound hollow and bitter.

"Yeah, I know."

She took a long sip of her iced coffee to calm her nerves. Natasha shifted into drive, her jaw tightening slightly as she carefully maneuvered out of the café parking lot, avoiding one particularly bold photographer who refused to move out of the way.

You watched her grip the wheel a little tighter than necessary. "Tash," you said gently, glancing at the phone lighting up on the console. "Your phone’s ringing. It’s your mom."

She sighed, hitting the button to connect the call through the car’s speakers. Melina Vostokoff's familiar voice filled the car almost immediately.

"Too busy for your mother, I see," Melina teased.

"No, of course not, Ma," Natasha replied, shaking her head even though Melina couldn’t see her. "My schedule’s pretty clear for the next couple of days. We just have a couple more rehearsals later this week."

"Good, good," Melina said, and you could practically hear the wheels turning in her mind. "I’m calling because I wanted to ask about your new girlfriend. You didn’t tell me you were seeing someone!"

Natasha visibly stiffened, her eyes flicking to you for a split second before returning to the road. Meanwhile, you tried—and failed—to stifle a laugh, biting your lip as Melina’s voice continued, full of motherly curiosity.

"So, what does she do? Is she nice? Where did you meet her? Does she like borscht?" Melina fired off the questions with practiced ease, leaving no room for Natasha to respond.

You raised an eyebrow at Natasha, silently daring her to answer. Natasha sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"Ma, slow down," she said, exasperation laced with affection. "She’s—"

"Does she cook? Does she get along with you-know-who? Does she have any bad habits I should know about? Natasha, you know I need to approve!"

That did it. You couldn’t hold back the laugh bubbling up in your chest, which slipped out before you could stop it. Melina, of course, didn’t miss it.

"Who’s laughing? Natasha, are you with her right now?"

Natasha sighed again, with a resigned smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, Ma," she admitted, glancing at you as you tried to compose yourself. "She’s right here. Sitting next to me."

Melina paused for half a beat before exclaiming, "Natasha! Why didn’t you say so sooner? Let me talk to her!"

Natasha groaned, leaning her head back against the seat for a moment. "Here we go," she muttered under her breath, shooting you an amused yet apologetic look.

You grinned, leaning closer to the speaker. "Hi, Melina. It’s nice to meet you... well, kind of."

"Ah, so this is the mysterious girlfriend," Melina said, her tone instantly warmer. "I have so many questions for you!"

"Okay, Ma, go easy on her," Natasha warned.

"Nonsense," Melina scoffed. "If I have questions, I want answers. Now, Y/n, tell me, where are you from?"

You took a deep breath and prepared yourself for the interrogation. "I was born and raised in Sherman Oaks, Los Angeles. Though I lived in Paris for a few years in middle school."

"Oh, wow, Paris," Melina said, sounding impressed. "How lovely. Did you live in the city, or were you more in the suburbs?"

"The city," you replied. "It was quite a change from L.A."

"And your family? Where did they go to school?"

"My parents both attended UCLA," You answered. "And my sister and I graduated from USC."

"Ah, a Bruin," Melina hummed, clearly pleased. "Very impressive."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Please, call me Melina," she insisted. "Or Ma, like my daughter does. Do you have any children?"

"Yes, I do, one she recently turned 10," you replied.

"Ten years old?" Melina mused. "So, she's probably in school now, yes?"

"Yeah, she is."

"I've done some research on you," Melina said. "So I've known most of those answers."

"Really, Ma?"

"You'd be surprised by the things I can find out about people, Natasha," Melina replied, a hint of a smirk in her voice.

"I don't doubt that," You chuckled.

"Natasha has a tour stop where I'm living currently," Melina said excitedly. "Hopefully, you will be over soon. And you will bring the child, yes?"

"If my schedule allows," you promised.

"You’ll make it work," Melina said with certainty. "I’ll even cook. Natasha can tell you I make the best borscht."

Natasha groaned softly, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. "Ma, don’t scare her off."

"Oh, please," Melina replied. "She doesn’t seem easily scared. I like her already."

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest as Melina’s approval seemed to settle between the three of you. Natasha glanced at you, her gaze softening momentarily before she refocused on the road.

"Well, it’s settled then," Melina added. "You’ll come, and we’ll have a proper family dinner."

"I’ll hold you to that," you replied with a grin.

******

Watching a movie in the middle of the day started harmless enough.

After a morning full of errands and lunch with your friends, you had returned home and decided to spend the rest of the day curled up on the couch. It was supposed to be a quiet, relaxing afternoon, but having Natasha so close did things to you. This time, you were the big spoon, lying behind her with your hand on her belly. The shared body heat made her warm, and it wasn't long before she'd pressed her ass into you. She could probably later say it was innocent. She was only trying to get settled. Your breasts pressed into her back was also an accident. She wasn't trying to rub her ass all over you. But the little sighs that were coming from her mouth were unmistakable.

"You okay?" You murmured in her ear, nipping at the lobe.

"Hmmmm," Natasha hummed, leaning back into you.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked, sliding your hand underneath her shirt, your fingers drawing patterns across the skin of her belly.

"Nothing, just nice having you here," She said. "We never spend time at my apartment."

"You're right," You agreed, pressing your lips against her temple. "It's nice."

Natasha tilted her head back, seeking your mouth. She sighed, the sound muffled as you kissed her, your hand traveling up her ribs. You were so tempted to slide your fingers higher, cup her breast in your hand, and feel the weight of her, but you knew that if you did, it would escalate quickly. And you didn't want to be caught up in the throes of passion, naked and writhing against each other on the couch with no warning.

"I like this," You whispered, your fingers tracing the underside of her breast.

"Me, too," She murmured. She seemed to not play into your games, only offering you a bit of leverage to lift her bra underneath her hoodie. Her eyes closed, and her breathing became heavier, her nipple hardening under your touch.

"You're so responsive," You mused, tweaking her nipple. "It's like you're just waiting for someone to touch you."

"Not someone," She replied, her voice low and thick with desire. "Just you."

Her hips moved again, a slow grind as she sought more friction. This felt like the perfect moment to get her hot and bothered. Both of you were fully clothed, and there was no pressure to have sex—just a bit of fun.

"You're such a tease," You chided, twisting her nipple. She bit back a moan, her eyes opening for a moment.

"So are you," She countered.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked again, sliding your fingers to her other breast.

"About what you're doing to me."

"And what am I doing to you?"

"You're getting me all worked up and then not going to do anything about it."

"Oh, I plan to do something about it," You nodded. Your hands trailed down from her belly, and you pressed your knee between her thighs to give you space. You could feel her wetness seeping through her leggings, and it was enough to make your core clench.

"Is that so?" She gasped, arching her back. You kissed whatever part of her body you could find as you rubbed her through her pants.

"Do you like when I do this?" You asked, pushing harder into her.

"Yessss," She hissed, her hips rising.

"Does this turn you on, Tash? Having me fingerfuck you while fully clothed?"

"Shit," She breathed out. "Yes."

"Yeah, me, too."

The material was thick, but you could still feel her body heat, her arousal seeping through. You found a steady rhythm, rocking against her as your fingers pressed against her clit.

"Fuck, that's good," She sighed.

"You're so wet," You marveled. "All from this."

"God, you have no idea," She whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as you kept going, her hips rolling with your movements. "It's so fucking hot." For the next few minutes, there was silence from both of you—the occasional moan from Natasha and groaning on the couch with your movements.

"I want to see how wet you are," You finally spoke, moving the elastic of her leggings. She didn't protest as you pushed them down, leaving her underwear in place. Her legs parted just enough for you to dip your fingers underneath the cotton and into her slick folds.

"Jesus, Tash," You breathed out.

"Don't stop," She begged. "Please."

"I've got you, baby," You promised, finding her clit. You stroked her, keeping her on edge, the wetness coating your fingers. She was practically dripping now.

"I want you to come," You whispered. "Come on my fingers, Tash."

Your words were her undoing. Her body shuddered, her mouth falling open as her orgasm rushed through her.

"Holy shit," She breathed, her voice hoarse and shaky.

"Was it good?" You asked, kissing her jaw.

"So fucking good," She nodded. "God, you're amazing."

"Glad I could help."

She smiled and turned her head to kiss you. "I think I need to repay the favor."

"I would love that," You said. Her kiss was slow and deep, her tongue sliding against yours as her hand snaked behind your head. "I can't believe I get to call you mine." You whispered against her lips.

"Me either," She grinned.

You were about to tell her how lucky you were when the sound of a door opening caused both of you to jump.

"Hey, guys," Wanda called out, strolling into the room with a teasing grin.

You scrambled to help Natasha tug her leggings up, your hands moving as quickly as possible. "Hi," you answered, trying your best to look innocent, even though the heat in your cheeks said otherwise.

"Sorry," Wanda said, holding up a couple of grocery bags as if to explain her presence. "I'm leaving again. Just stopped by to drop these off."

"Okay," Natasha replied, her voice a little too casual as she fought to keep her expression neutral. "Have a good time."

"I will," Wanda said with a smirk, her eyes narrowing slightly as she glanced between the two of you.

"We're not doing anything," you blurted, raising your hands to prove your innocence.

Wanda’s smirk widened. "Right. Well, don't have too much fun while I'm gone." She gave a knowing look over her shoulder as she left the room.

"Shut up, Wanda," Natasha called after her, rolling her eyes as the door closing signaled her exit. Natasha exhaled heavily, leaning back against the couch. "I really need to think about getting my place soon."

"Or," you countered, raising an eyebrow at her, "you could possibly think about spending more time at my house."

Natasha tilted her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Are you trying to tell me something, or is this just a clever way to avoid interruptions?"

"Maybe both," you teased, leaning in closer. "Think about it. We could have lots of privacy. Lots of time alone."

Natasha hummed thoughtfully, her lips hovering mere centimeters from yours. "I'm thinking about it."

"Yeah?" You grinned, your heart fluttering in your chest.

"Yeah." She nodded. "Though, how would Isabella feel? Or even Sam. With me being there so much."

"You're worried about how my ex-husband would feel with you moving into my house?" You raised a brow.

"Not necessarily," Natasha shrugged. "But I did mention Isabella coming on tour with us, and he wasn't open to the idea."

"You told him about that?"

"At her party," Natasha said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Of course you did," you groaned, leaning back against the couch. "Nat, I love that you feel comfortable with him, but don’t tell him things before I’m ready."

"I thought you had, honestly," Natasha admitted, sitting up straighter.

"No, I hadn’t," you said firmly. "I wanted to talk to him about it first. Regarding Bella, we have a great agreement—50/50 custody, as you know. It works for us, but Sam can play hardball too."

"I know, baby," Natasha said softly, her hand reaching for yours. "I’m sorry."

"It’s fine," you exhaled deeply, the tension easing. "It’s just...a lot is changing. He hasn’t mentioned it to me yet, so at least he’s not against it, which is good. He’s chill. It’ll be a great conversation. And honestly, it’s football season—he’ll be working a lot. That’ll give me more time with her anyway."

Natasha squeezed your hand gently, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. "You’re right. And if it makes it easier for you, I’ll stay out of it. You take the lead with Sam."

"Thank you," you said, offering her a small smile. "I know you meant well. We’ll figure it out."

"We always do," Natasha replied, kissing your temple. "And hey, I promise to run things by you first from now on."

"Good," you teased, your smile widening. "Now, let’s talk about how you’ll make up for it."

Natasha grinned, leaning closer. "I’ve got a few ideas..."

********

The small bistro was quiet, the kind of place with soft jazz playing overhead and just enough tables to feel intimate. When you walked in, the faint clinking of silverware and the smell of fresh herbs greeted you. You scanned the room, noting how empty it was—a relief. This was the kind of conversation you didn’t want to be overheard.

Your eyes landed on Sam, seated near the window. He leaned back in his chair, an easy grin on his face as he chatted with a waitress. She laughed at something he said, her cheeks slightly pink as she poured more water into his glass. If you looked closely, she resembled you. Sam had a type.

You sighed and walked over, the heels of your shoes clicking softly against the tiled floor.

"Sam," you said, your voice cutting through their conversation.

He looked up, startled for a moment before his signature smile returned. "Hey! There she is."

The waitress stepped back, offering a polite nod. "Let me know if you need anything else," she said before disappearing behind the counter.

"Flirting already?" you teased, sliding into the seat across from him.

He shrugged, unbothered. "What can I say? She’s cute. Plus, it’s not like I’m the married one here anymore."

"You never could stop the wandering eye," you quipped, leaning back in your chair.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I wasn’t the one with the side piece, though, was I—"

"No," You rolled your eyes. "you never had problems watching either.'

He held up his hands in surrender, clearly enjoying himself. "Fair point."

"I can't believe you're the one who picked this place," you mused, glancing around the small cafe. "A little too romantic, don't you think?"

"What?" Sam chuckled. "You know I like good food."

"Of course," you replied dryly. "I want to talk about bringing Isabella on tour with me for a few weeks."

His smirk faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly, leaning back in his chair. "Bringing her on tour? For a couple of weeks? Yeah, your girlfriend told me about it."

"Yes," you nodded, watching him closely. "I think it could be good for her. She’s curious about what I do, and it’d be a great opportunity for us to spend more time together. Plus, she’d get to experience something different."

Sam tilted his head, his brow furrowing. "It’s not that I’m against it, but are you sure it’s the best environment for her? I mean, all that traveling, the schedule, being around... well, Natasha."

You crossed your arms, not missing the way he hesitated. "Natasha is part of my life now, Sam. You know that."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed. "It's just when you fall in love with women, you fall pretty hard."

"And you don't think this is something different?"

"Honestly, I don't know," He said. "It's not my place to judge. My only worry is that Isabella won't be influenced by being with adults the entire time."

"That's why she'll be there, with me, her mother, for support," You argued. "I understand your hesitance, but I'm asking as a courtesy."

"A courtesy to me?" He frowned. "This isn't just about her coming along. This is about bringing people into her life with a reputation for being party animals. You can't blame me for questioning that. I'm not questioning your judgment. I'm judging theirs."

"If I had any sliver of doubt that she'd be exposed to anything we don't want her to, I will bring her home," You promised.

Sam sighed, toying with the gold ring on his finger. He seemed to consider your words momentarily, his gaze flitting over your shoulder. Then, his expression softened, and he leaned forward. "I can see how important this is to you," he said.

"It is," you confirmed, meeting his eye.

"You're a great mom," he went on. "The best, honestly. You're a great person. I trust your judgment."

"Thanks, Sam," you smiled, a weight lifting from your chest.

"But," he added, "if she's exposed to any of the bad shit, you'll bring her home. No questions asked."

"Deal," you agreed, holding out your hand.

Sam shook your hand, his grip firm and warm. "Alright then. We'll see what we can work out."

"You're the best," you grinned, relieved.

"I know," he said, his smirk returning.

You shook your head, biting back a laugh.

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov #black widow x female reader #natasha x you #hotelcaliforniaau

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somnus-lucis-caelum · 1 day ago

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Aerith knew what to do. Somnus was relieved that he had actually guessed right and Aerith agreed on having her handle such a situation first. Slowly, he felt like he was beginning to understand the dynamics of this family. Even if it still was such a strange thought… to imagine that maybe in just a few weeks… or days, he would move with them and then belong to their house.

Would he ever feel at ease of voicing his own ideas like this again?

Would he always just feel safer with Aerith being so close?

As much as he needed her for such tense situations, it seemed that she needed him in return. The ritual would be something special. Surely it was unlike what the farmlands did, though Somnus was curious to learn more about their customs. Had Aerith not mentioned that the Cetra didn’t… fear death? That all just went back to the Lifestream… that was a comforting thought, too. Similar to their Beyond. Maybe those places were the same after all.

Watching her hands for a moment, Somnus then closed his own around hers again. It was easy by then. He had done it before and it helped to calm her once more, hopefully. The smile he gifted her upon that was as gentle as one could be at this topic.

“I think Nikolaos’ family would like that. They own a vineyard, they take great pride in that.”

It was a sweet gesture. Nikolaos would get all the honours and laudations from having been a soldier. The entire army would be there.

“He will be cremated come sunset. We will walk up to the hill at the coast and carry him there. My father will say something. His family, too, if they wish. And the pyre will be lit by everyone who lays down a piece of wood and flowers with their prayers for him to send him on his way to teh Beyond.”

Aerith hadn't noticed the glance. Her full attention rested on Roran, and her expression deflated a little as he announced his wishes. Their Uncle followed, though kept a respectable distance, leaned up against one of the stone pillars as he watched over the boy. A moment later he gave a sharp little whistle — the rumbling was an obvious sign of Nidhogg's approach to the balcony.

She glanced down at her hands. Everyone felt the same, they all wanted to pluck away Roran's pain but that wasn't possible. And even if it was, it wasn't honouring Nikolaos. Those memories would carry with him for life — she just hoped that he could recover from them, hoped that he was young enough that his mind stripped away the details and faded the worst of it all with time.

It was only when Somnus inched a little closer and spoke in a hushed tone that Aerith lifted her gaze to meet his. Her attention lowered to the space between them... in one decisive slide, she made it so she was the one who moved the most, claiming the spot where her father had sat. Angled to Somnus like this, their knees very nearly touched, but not quite.

"Leave it with me." she whispered back. "If we bring it up now... it's not a good idea. But if Ror has a lot of trouble tonight, I'll raise it with my parents then." If they asked her how she could possibly know such a detail, she would tell most of the truth. That she had spoken with Prince Somnus a lot. Her father didn't need another reason to eye him warily.

Then her brows furrowed a little. Burial rites were different in Lucis. But... surely... it wouldn't mean Nikolaos was on display, not when... no. Her head shook that rogue thought away. "Is it true that warriors are cremated here?" she asked, a genuine question.

She seemed to struggle then. Her hands flexed — an Aerith-specific tell that she was grasping for her words, and not sure how to get them out. Her mouth closed and opened again, as did her hands. But she got there. "I could decorate the urn, if... if that is something agreeable. I don't want to step on any toes, but he is a hero, and he deserves something more elaborate is all..."

#holyguardian #AU | Star Crossed

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diamonddaze01 · 15 hours ago

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us, again

pairing: ljh x reader genre: angst, vaguely hurt comfort? | wc: 1.3k warnings: none | rating: pg a/n: for my 400 follower celebration -> @strxwberry-skiess requested lyrics lab + “until the day we sing together again, my path to you will never end” (us again) // love you rachel, i hope you enjoy!

Jihoon stood frozen at the door of your apartment, his hand lingering on the doorknob, as if somehow he could will the moment to freeze in place. The warmth of the room, which had once been his sanctuary, now felt unfamiliar, too quiet, too still. You had said you needed space, that you both needed time to sort things out, and in his heart, Jihoon had convinced himself that it was just a temporary pause. He could understand it, after all—relationships were complicated, messy even. He had always been a man of logic, of clear thoughts and precise decisions, but now, with your quiet voice echoing the words that seemed so final, his certainty was unraveling, thread by thread.

The apartment felt too small now, the walls pressing in on him as he stood in the space that used to feel like home. Everything was the same—your favorite blanket tossed on the couch, the cup of coffee you never finished on the counter, the books stacked neatly on the shelf. Yet nothing felt the same. The silence between you both had weight, like a third presence in the room, and Jihoon could feel it crushing him, suffocating him in a way that no amount of air could fix.

He didn’t want to turn the handle. He didn’t want to leave, not when everything inside of him screamed that staying was the only thing that made sense. But here you were, standing a few feet away, arms folded tightly across your chest, avoiding his gaze. His heart ached at the sight of you like that—distant, guarded, yet so painfully vulnerable. Jihoon wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms and remind you of the quiet moments that had made up the rhythm of your life together. But he knew better. He knew that if he pushed too hard, you’d only pull away further.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he muttered, his voice barely louder than the hum of the refrigerator. He was trying to convince both of you, but the words felt like a lie. He wasn’t sure what he meant by them, but it was the only thing he could think to say. The last thing he wanted was for you to think that you were losing him, that somehow this—this break—meant the end.

But you didn’t answer him right away. You just stood there, arms still crossed, eyes downcast as if contemplating something too painful to voice. Jihoon hated that he couldn’t read your expression, hated how far you seemed to be from him, even though he was standing right in front of you.

“I don’t want this to be the end,” you said finally, your voice small, fragile, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself more than him. The words were a whisper, but they carried the weight of a thousand unspoken fears. Your eyes flickered up to meet his, but it was only for a brief moment before you looked away again, as if you couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in his face.

“I just… I need to figure things out,” you continued, your voice steady now, but there was a crack in it—something Jihoon couldn’t ignore. “I need time, Jihoon. I think we both do.”

The ache in Jihoon’s chest deepened at the sound of your words. He had always thought he understood you, that you both had something unspoken, a connection so strong that it could weather anything. But this… this felt like something he hadn’t prepared for. It felt like an earthquake, a tremor in the foundation of everything they had built, and he didn’t know how to stop the aftershocks from tearing them both apart.

His throat felt tight, constricted by an emotion he couldn’t put into words. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly, betraying the uncertainty he felt. He had to ask, even if he was terrified of the answer.

You nodded, but it was the smallest movement, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself more than him. Jihoon felt something shift in the pit of his stomach—something heavy, like the beginning of a storm. He wanted to reach out to you, to make you understand that he would do anything, anything at all, to make this work. But how could he when you were so determined to step back?

“I’m not going to lose you, am I?” Jihoon whispered, his words barely audible, his heart pounding so loudly in his ears that he could barely hear your reply. He didn’t know what it was—desperation, fear, or the quiet realization that you might not be there when he turned around—but it hit him all at once.

You looked at him then, and it was the kind of look that broke him. Not with anger or frustration, but with the quiet understanding that this was something you both had to go through. Something that wasn’t his fault, but was still a result of everything you’d been through. You stepped closer to him, close enough that Jihoon could smell the faint trace of your perfume, the soft scent of your skin, the little things that made you, you.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not really,” you said, and this time, there was a steadiness to your voice that made Jihoon’s heart twist. “But we have to take a step back, Jihoon. We need to figure out who we are outside of this… outside of us. I need to find myself again, and I think you do too.”

Jihoon closed his eyes at the words, as if shutting them out would make it less real. He wanted to scream that you didn’t need to do this, that he was here, ready and waiting to help you find yourself, to find your way back to him. But the words never came. He couldn’t force you to stay. He couldn’t make this decision for you, no matter how much it tore at him.

When he opened his eyes again, you were standing there, close enough that he could feel the heat of your body, but still not close enough to erase the distance that had quietly grown between you both. Your fingers brushed against his arm, a fleeting touch, and for a moment, Jihoon thought it might be enough to make everything go back to the way it had been before. But you didn’t say anything else. The touch was gentle, tender, but so final in its own way.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you repeated, this time more for yourself than for him, as if reminding yourself that this wasn’t goodbye.

Jihoon nodded slowly, his lips parting but no words coming out. He wanted to say something, anything, to keep you close, to hold onto the love that had once felt so easy. But instead, all he could do was whisper, “Until the day we find our way back.”

You didn’t reply right away, but Jihoon saw the way your eyes softened, the way the lines of tension in your face began to fade, if only just for a moment. It wasn’t an answer, not the kind he wanted, but it was enough for now.

He turned slowly, opening the door with a soft click, the cool air of the hallway rushing in. But as he stepped out, as the door closed behind him with a quiet thud, Jihoon didn’t feel like he was leaving you behind. Not completely. Not yet.

The path between you two hadn’t ended. It was just… paused. And no matter how long it took, no matter how far apart you both might grow in this time apart, Jihoon knew—his path to you would never end.

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aquatic-armageddons · 3 days ago

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How the mercs would try to make up after a fight

SCOUT

Knowing Scout, he'd try to smooth talk his way out of it and call it a day. He doesn't like to admit he's in the wrong, but depending on how serious the fight was, he'd swallow his pride for the sake of the relationship.

He may even ask Spy for help, because he can be pretty awful with words.

But more than likely, the apology would be fumbled and blurted out (like he knows what he wants to say but his head can't catch up with itself).

Feel sympathy for the poor boy, because he feels very frustrated but he still wants you to know he's sorry for what happened.

Make-up cuddles on the couch are a MUST, too.

SOLDIER

You think Scout gets frustrated trying to apologize?

Solly is mentally kicking himself for letting the fight happen in the first place (he might actually kick a few things for real).

We all know Solly shouts a lot, but during the fight, he almost breaks a vessel screaming at you, but he silences himself immediately the moment he sees tears.

He tries desperately to apologize; sputtering 'I'm sorry' and 'Cupcake, please! I didn't mean to!'. But the one thing that'd damage his pride is leaving and making him stew for a couple of hours.

Later on in the day, he will approach you as slow and kindly as he can (a struggle), but he's back to his happy, loud self once you forgive him.

And expect a bone crushing hug or two.

PYRO

This kinda hurt to write.

Poor baby is beside themselves :(

The fight definitely shook you both up, as Pyro hardly ever gets into arguments with anyone. Even though their shouts are muffled, it was still clear enough to understand.

Once it all sinks in, they'd try to hold your hand tightly and mumble apologies like there's no tomorrow.

You forgive Pyro almost instantly, because you know they're a sweetheart and never meant any harm.

If you need some space, Pyro would give it to you, but not for too long. The separation would be too much to handle, and they'll give you the 🥺 face until you cave.

DEMOMAN

It would take him a bit to accept that he's in the wrong.

And I think brushing it off would add more fuel to the fire, but only if he really wanted it to hurt.

Space would be a key factor in this instance. He'd use that time to drink the stress away, but that nagging feeling won't leave him. And he'd definitely wouldn't want to go to sleep with you mad.

"Lass? You awake?" He'd still try to gently shake you awake if you're asleep (anyway).

That's all he'll say before he climbs into bed and spoon you from behind, nuzzling his beard in your neck.

If he tries to bring it up the next morning, just hear him out. And vice versa.

I also think he'll tell a cheesy dad joke to get that smile back on your face!

HEAVY

He'd only snap when under a massive amount of stress.

His frustration is probably misplaced, and once he sees your eyes watering, his shoulders fall in shame.

Honest, gentle words and small, fresh baked snacks is his go-to to bring things back to normalcy. This could also be how he settles his disputes with his mom and sisters.

"Y/N should not be angry with Heavy... let me make up to you."

His tone of voice would instantly make you melt and forgive him on the spot.

Let him spoil you for now and act like it never happened. Tomorrow's a new day!

ENGINEER

Fights with him are something you can never prepare for, as it hardly ever happens.

But when it does, it's all the more intense and awkward.

Dell feels helpless, because it's not like him to raise his voice, let alone shout at people he loves.

Like Heavy, a soft, reassuring voice is his way of de-escalating an argument.

But don't be surprised if he pulls the 🥺 face on you.

If in the midst of you yelling at him, he'll probably kiss you out of nowhere to shut you up.

"You were saying, sweetie?" He'd say with a smirk.

MEDIC

This man is very prideful, and may not consider the possibility of being at fault.

Depending on the severity (like if you threaten to leave him), only one of two things will happen: he'll either call your bluff and regret it later, or just shut down and seclude himself in his lab.

If the latter occurs, he'll feel the need to punish himself for hurting you.

You'll have to coax him out of the lab. Even if you were angry, you still didn't want to see him sulking.

"Liebe, I'm sorry for how I acted...please don't hate me!"

The best thing to do when he says that is to pull him in for a bear hug. "Dummy, don't be like that. You're too handsome to be all sulky and sad on me!"

That puts an instant smile on his face, and you both immediately forget what you were squabbling about.

SNIPER

Him being one of the more patient mercs on the team, it would take a mountain of effort to get him angry.

So he just goes quiet and waits for the right time to come around.

But there's no way of telling when that will happen; it could take just a few minutes or even several hours.

Mentally, Mundy is at war with himself. Does he want to apologize? Does he want to leave you stewing?

He eventually chooses to just be next to you, even when you demanded to be alone. He won't leave until you've calmed down.

Mundy knows his presence can ease your frustration. He'll hold your hand as you sob and vent at him, not saying a word.

It may not show, buy it breaks his heart to see you so upset. Just like a therapist, he's the man who wants to hear what you want to say.

"Honey, I'm sorry about earlier." He whispered. "You don't have to forgive me. Just know that-"

You practically tackle him in a tight hug, crying harder than ever. "I don't care! Just hug me, fool!"

SPY

He can be a real jerk, but he handles arguments more maturely out of everyone.

He apologizes when necessary, taking responsibility for his actions/hurtful words.

But he won't neglect to point out your mistakes as well. He won't take the blame if it's not warranted.

Discussing things like adults (in his opinion) is the best way to settle a personal dispute, and trying to get a reaction out of him would prove useless.

"Sweetheart, let's just take a moment and breathe. I don't want to fight with you, you know that. And I apologize if I hurt you. It was not out of malice, and I didn't mean to come across that way. Let's just stop for a little while and settle your nerves, oui?"

He's got that kind of parental approach you, and it works nearly every time.

---

A/N: IT'S FINALLY DONE!!!!!! I honestly struggled finishing this last minute as I was busy hacking up a lung and puking simultaneously 🤢🤒 But I didn't want to disappoint any of you. Let me know what you think ❤️❤️❤️

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 x reader #tf2 hcs #tf2 headcanons #tf2 scout #tf2 solly #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 demo #tf2 heavy #tf2 engie #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy

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tapiocakisses · 3 days ago

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touya todoroki (dabi) nsfw alphabet

tags — implied demisexual dabi, gender of partner isn't specified, nsfw content, switch dabi, switch reader

warnings — brief mentions of pregnancy / breeding, mentions of daddy kink, mentions of sa (in the 'no' section), maybe ooc (sorry)

for @skrunklystraycat & touya's bday !!

A — AFTERCARE

Now, Dabi isn't careless, but he wouldn't be as attentive as someone like Keigo. Dabi would clean you up, muttering about a mess on the bed and how he doesn't want to "sleep on a sticky bed". If he is the one who's worn out, he'll have a level of expectation for being doted on. He's an indulgent man when it comes to your attention.

B — BODY PART

Dabi loves your hands and hips. He lobes how he can grab at them and pull you to where he wants you. Having you where he wants when you guys fuck is one of his favorite things. He loves how your hands feel grabbing at him. His hair, his arms, his sides, his own hands, etc. He loves being held by you. Even if you're being rough with him. (ESPECIALLY if you're rough with him.)

C — CUM

Dabi cums a lot. Like, a lot. My god. It's like he holds it in for days before he finally cums. When he paints you white, he really points you white. It's worse when he's edged. Poor Dabi and his cute, sensitive dick.

D — DIRTY SECRET

This isn't exactly a secret, but it doesn't come up since he's a villain, and the consequences would throw a wrench in a lot of plans he has. Dabi has a breeding kink. He doesn't want to be a father in any way, shape, or form, but he can't help how his body reacts. The thought of filling you up raw round after round, finally stopping to see how his cum dribbles out of you. (This is why he never looks after he cums inside you.)

E — EXPERIENCE

Virgin. Pathetic loser virgin who never had pussy or dick. He's not suave. He is not a savant at sex. He's a horny virgin who gets flustered at being called pretty. That man can NOT handle sex in the slightest.

F — FAVORITE POSITION

Cowgirl. Dabi loves laying back and watching you bounce on his dick. You look so pretty when your back arches when he thrusts up into you. It feels good to know he can let you have all the control sometimes. (He will fuck you in missionary if he's jealous, though.)

G —GOOFY

Dabi is fairly serious during sex. His focus is feeling good and making you feel good. Though, in the early stages of your relationship, he's pretty awkward and

H — HAIR

Dabi keeps himself pretty well groomed. He's not the most strict about it, but he doesn't leave it unattended. He really only grooms it once it gets annoying or uncomfortable. It's not like his hair grows that fast there, so he has no routine.

I — INTIMACY

This depends. Dabi likes things rough, intense, and sometimes mean. That's all he's known after all. So, he may not be the most intimate in any way in the beginning. He's a kinky bastard and he knows it. Sex is just sex. The problem with that is the fact that his layers are being peeled back. Slowly, they'll peel, but it happens. He doesn't need to put up a facade. You can bring up the fact that you'd like more intimacy in bed, and he'll acknowledge it, but it'll only be a few weeks later when he finally takes your hand in his. Not to pin you down or pull you in any direction, but to simply hold.

J — JACK OFF

It's not super often Dabi spends time by himself to get off. He only does in certain circumstances. Usually he's fisting his cock like no tomorrow when he misses you. Hell, even when your shirt rides up and your abdomen is exposed. He can't help it. You're perfect in every way. His hand doesn't compare, but he doesn't dare use a toy unless it's on you.

K — KINK

I think Dabi would be into just about anything. Choking, slapping, bondage, primal play, spanking, overstim, etc. He's a versatile man. He'll give and take whatever he is willing to endure.

L — LOCATION

Dabi likes fucking you in risky places. Sure, the privacy of a bedroom is nice, but if he's feeling dominant, he'll do it somewhere like in a stolen car or an alleyway. He likes fucking you in places that

M — MOTIVATION

You.

N — NO

No matter how nonchalant and uncaring Dabi seems, I know he has his limits. I genuinely think he wouldn't be into forcing someone into sex. Does he like control and security? Yes. But anything like a rape fantasy has him turned off instantly. He only hurts people who deserve it and you never deserve it. The only other thing he'd be against is being called 'daddy' or calling someone 'daddy'. It just weirds him out and doesn't do anything for him.

O — ORAL

Ohhh, Dabi loves oral. He loves when he watches you drag your lips over his cock, kissing and suckling on the skin. It's a beautiful sight to him. One of his favorite things to do is hike your legs over his shoulders and let his mouth work on you. It's exhilarating to him. The way your hands tug at his hair (if they're not bound), the way he pulls every little noise from you… There's just something about tasting you on his tongue that gets him going like nothing else.

P — PACE

It's fairly surprising to learn that Dabi takes his time. People would think he's impatient (and he is), but knowing that he has such a limited time as a villain, he likes to savor everything with you. He's a gradual lover. He wants to build the anticipation and watch as it becomes all consuming. Though, Dabi does get a little eager in the end. He needs to see it; the glazed look in your eyes when both of you crumble into each other.

Q — QUICKIE

Dabi lives quickies. He may not be a guy with a high sex drive nor a sex addict, but he can get hard if you push the right buttons. Sometimes, it's involuntary. He has to pull you somewhere secluded, push your clothes aside, and slot his dick between your thighs, moaning into your neck. If he really wants to push it - which he typically does - he'll grind his cock against your hole, slipping his tip in the slightest bit just to feel your warmth.

R — RISK

Dabi loves risk. He loves the idea of someone knowing but not watching. Seeing you fall apart on his dick, legs wrapped around his abdomen is a beautiful sight. No one gets to see, but they can hear. The only time Dabi wouldn't be risky is when he's being submissive. He doesn't want anyone to see him like that. Not that he has a "reputation to uphold," but because you're the only person who knows him. Only you can tell him what to do and he'll listen.

S — STAMINA

Moderate stamina. Hence, his favorite position is being any with him lying or sitting down. Dabi is also a huge fan of lazy fucking, so it's perfect. Though, Dabi has his days where he'll fuck like a crazed animal. Those would be slow days where he can spend a lot of time in his head, imagining every little mark that'd be littered on your skin.

T — TOY

Dabi is not a fan of toys on himself. Well, okay, he does like things such as vibrators and anal plugs. The toys he doesn't like are things like sex dolls or fleshlights. He'd prefer to be inside you than some toy. He did try once, and it was uncomfortable.

U — UNFAIR

He can be unfair sometimes. Dabi loves edging you and teasing you. He can be mean and taunt you. That sickly sweet "there we go, baby" he does when you finally give in and let him have his way.

V — VOLUME

Dabi is not a loud guy. He already strains his voice when yelling, and, in full transparency, he doesn't want anyone to hear him when you fuck. It's a level of vulnerability he wouldn't dare show to anyone besides you. Every gasp, whimper, groan… It's all for you.

W — WILD CARD

Dabi lovesssssssss it when you get violent. Even if you're threatening him. Just your display of power and passion is amazing to him. Dabi is nothing if not a slut for strength.

X — X-RAY

I like to think Dabi is on the smaller side. He's close to average, but not qu

Y — YEARNING

Dabi doesn't seem like the type to have an insanely high sex drive, but it isn't super low. It's moderate to say the least. Sure, at times he'll get unbearably horny, but it is not a common occurrence. His libido does spike once he starts dating you, though. All he does is think about you and he's getting hard. He's a pervert in that sense, I guess.

Z — ZZZ…

Dabi has fairly low stamina. You'd think he'd last long and stay awake, but his staples and skin grafts make it difficult to do rigorous activities for a long period of time. Having sex and doing whatever villainous activity always tires him out fast. Give him ten minutes, and he's out. (In the beginning of your relationship, he did try to stay awake longer because he didn't feel entirely safe yet, and he didn't want you to leave.)

#🪶 writing #dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #gn reader #masc reader #fem reader #switch dabi #demisexual dabi #dom dabi #sub dabi #dom reader #sub reader #n/sfw #n/sfw alphabet

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communicationthroughlyrics · 2 days ago

Text

I Work Too Hard, Can You Fuckin' Pay Me?

Part 11 - Y/N moved to escape some of thier looming troubles from Westview, to the place that their best friend said would make a difference. New job, new digs, will Y/N make a change for the better, or leave another city with their tail between their legs?

TW: Angst, Intersex reader, reader has some... not so great coping habits, sexual tension, smut

Word Count: 2.6K

Read Pt. 1 HERE Read Pt. 2 HERE Read Pt. 3 HERE Read Pt. 4 HERE Read Pt. 5 HERE Read Pt. 6 HERE Read Pt. 7 HERE Read Pt. 8 HERE Read Pt. 9 HERE Read Pt. 10 HERE

I'm Afraid I May Never Learn From All My Mistakes

The workweek flew by you in a flurry of due dates for upcoming projects and deadlines for your current builds. Despite the chaos, you found yourself eagerly counting down the hours to the weekend. Thoughts of Wanda's smile, her touch, and the way she looked at you filled the quiet moments of your day. Each time you thought of her, you felt your heart flutter—a feeling that was both exhilarating and terrifying. You hadn't seen the redhead since your weekend together, a thought which brought you sadness.

Thursday evening, you were in the last meeting of the week, and you received a text from Wanda: "Miss me?" Attached was a photo of her lying in bed, the sheets tangled around her body, leaving little to the imagination. You slammed the phone down onto the conference table and cleared your throat, hoping no one had noticed your lapse in professionalism. "Sorry, just...something came up," you muttered, trying to focus on the blueprints in front of you as everyone's attention was on you.

Your cheeks were tinted a rosy pink at the thought of the older woman alone in her bed like that. The meeting dragged on, and your thoughts were far from work. You couldn't wait to get out of this conference room, and back to your cubicle to text her back. And you were damn glad you had your blueprints to carry.

Finally, your meeting ended, and you rushed to your desk, throwing the rolled prints down before slouching down into your chair and texting Wanda back with a simple "More than you know," along with a winky face. She replied with a smirking emoji, and your heart skipped a beat. Loosening your tie, you looked around at your surroundings before snapping a picture that showed the 'problem' you had been hiding since the picture she sent you. You sent it to her with the caption "Better watch what you send me, young lady. You won't be able to handle the punishment."

Three grey dots quickly appeared, then disappeared, and reemerged as she was contemplating her response. "Last time I checked, I'm older than you, Y/N."

Smirking, you shook your head. "Maybe so, but who were you calling 'daddy' while I broke your bed?"

Wanda's response was swift, "Y/N, don't start that..." Before you could begin your response, another photo came across, showing more of her sinful body, bottom lip fully trapped in those pearly whites that had you enraptured.

"Wanda, behave, baby. I can't do anything while I'm still at work." You shot back a response, trying to sound stern, but the smirk on your face betrayed you. You watched your phone, waiting for her to respond, the anticipation making you feel giddy like a teenager.

"But you can imagine," she texted back with a mischievous wink. You groaned, sliding your phone off to the side so you could unfurl the blueprint you needed, beginning to tweak it how you were asked to in the meeting. You heard a few vibrations coming from your left, trying to ignore the anticipation in your gut, knowing that it was likely Wanda.

You managed to keep your focus on work for all of half an hour, but the buzzing of your phone was a persistent reminder of the distraction waiting for you. When you couldn't take it anymore, you looked down to find several more texts from her, each more flirty and provocative than the last. "You're going to be the death of me," you muttered to yourself, your cock twitching in your pants. Scrolling through the descriptions of what she wants to do to you, you came across the last message. It was a video, and your heart nearly stopped when you clicked it. You quickly paused it, realizing that there was more than anyone's share of obsceneties in it, and rifled through your shoulder bag looking for your earbuds.

Once you had them in, you hit play, and watched as Wanda lay back on her bed, her fingers tracing along her glistening folds, her breathy moans coming across as she buries her fingers knuckle deep into her heat. Your eyes widened, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure.

You had to remind yourself that you were at work, and that your coworkers were just on the other side of the thin fabric walls. You shot back a text, "I'll give you what you're asking for this weekend," before sliding your phone across the desk, far away from you before turning on some music from your watch.

The end of your night could not come fast enough. Each moment at work was torture, knowing that Wanda was just a house away from yours, probably thinking of you as much as you thought of her. The anticipation was palpable, and it was all you could do to keep from walking out the office, and straight to her house.

Finally, you had made all of the changes you needed to, and your 'friend' had finally relaxed enough that you could walk out of the office without shuffling to hide. You began packing up your things, sliding your laptop and various other things into the pouches on your bag. The clock above the door ticked away the final seconds of your workday with a sadistic slowness. Each tick echoed in the quiet office like a gunshot, but you had made it. Just as you were throwing your coat on over your shoulders, a voice echoed from behind you. One you weren't anticipating hearing, not here.

"Y/N?" there was a familiar rasp to it, as you turned to face none other than Natasha. She leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "I was told I would probably find you here."

You felt your cheeks burn as you hastily shoved the last of your things into your bag, trying to hide your disappointment in her arrival. You just wanted to get home, slip next door and see the woman who has been occupying your thoughts all week. "Funny how that works, Nat. I work here."

Natasha's smile grew, "I know that," as she stepped closer. She looked you up and down, a knowing glint in her eye. "That's not how you should treat someone who gave you such a welcome to town, or did you forget?"

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt, "It's not like that Nat. Believe me, I have tried to forget, considering the circumstances. And had I known about your situation with my best friend and your boss, then it wouldn't have ever happened."

Natasha's expression softened, "I know it's complicated, but it's not your fault, Y/N." She took a step closer, "But, that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun together." She leaned in, whispering in your ear, "I know you enjoyed it."

You stepped back, shaking your head. "No. Absolutely not. I'm not doing that again, Natasha. Is that seriously all you came here for?" you hissed in her direction.

Her smirk grew, "What if I told you, that's not what I really came here for?"

Groaning, you gathered your things, trying to get out of the office. "What could you possibly be here for, Natasha?"

Her eyes glinted with a mischievous spark, "Well, I need your help with something."

"My help?" you echoed, raising an eyebrow. "What on earth could you possibly need my help with?" you let the irritation seep through your voice.

Natasha sauntered closer, her hips swaying in a way that was definitely not accidental. "It's about Pietro," she said, her tone dropping to a whisper. "I need to plan something special for him. For his birthday."

You stopped in your tracks, turning on your heel before walking right up to the redhead. "Let me get this right. You begin dating my best friend, your boss, then sleep with his best friend when she comes to town. He finds out, so you've been kissing his ass since. Now you have the fucking balls to walk into my office, flirt with me and insinuate sleeping with me again, just to turn around and ask for help with something for his birthday? Are you stupid?" you growled.

Her eyes narrowed, "Like you should be one to talk about crossing lines, Y/N."

The accusation stung, but you held your ground. "What the hell do you mean by that, Romanoff?"

Natasha's smirk grew wider, "Oh, come on. You've been spending an awful lot of time with Wanda, haven't you? Looks like she has more than helped you 'settle in'. How would Piet feel about that revelation?"

You clenched your jaw, anger boiling up inside you. "Don't bring him into this. Whatever's going on between Wanda and me is none of your business. And frankly, I don't care what you do for his birthday. Just don't involve me in your mess." You turned to leave, but Natasha grabbed your arm.

"I'm not trying to start trouble," she said, her voice taking on a serious tone. "But I am looking out for him."

"Jesus, Natasha, you don't think, do you?" You shook her hand off, the heat of your anger burning through your cheeks. "I've known Piet since high school. I'm not just going to toss his friendship away for some fling. And I'm certainly not going to entertain being with his sister without letting him know! He already knows about us, Romanoff! Wanda and I are just trying things out, trying to make it different than our past. And what we have, it's certainly not something to be used as leverage in some twisted game."

Natasha's smirk slipped, and for the first time, you saw a flash of genuine concern cross her features. "You're serious," she murmured. "I had no idea. I just..."

You shook your head, scoffing. "Yeah, Natasha. You had no fucking idea." You turned to walk away, halting when she spoke.

Her expression grew contrite. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause trouble. But I want to let you know something."

You turned to face her, your arms crossed. "What is it?"

Natasha took a step closer, her eyes serious. "Pietro's not okay," she said, her voice low and urgent. "He's...he's been acting strange lately. And I think it has to do with someone who is coming back to town."

You frowned, "Who?"

"Val. She's been gone now for..."

"6 years." you finished. You are certain your heart is now in your stomach, and all color has left your features.

Natasha nodded solemnly. "Exactly. How'd you know?"

You glanced at the redhead, shaking your head. You weren't going to tell her the truth, not this truth. "Best Friend. Remember?"

Natasha nodded, her eyes widening a fraction. "Right. I'm sorry, I forgot." You shook your head, standing in the middle of the glass entryway to your office building. "I'm gonna go now, have a good night, Y/N."

"Wait," you called out as she started to turn away. "What's going on with him? Is he okay?"

"Call him. Best friend, remember?" was all she said before she walked away.

You watched Natasha leave, her words echoing in your mind like a warning bell. The thought of Val returning to town made your stomach churn. The woman had been a tornado in your friendship with Pietro, leaving a path of destruction and heartache in her wake. You hadn't thought about her since you left Westview, and for good reason—the very mention of her name brought back memories you'd rather forget. But Natasha's concern for her boyfriend was clear, and you knew you had to at least check in on him.

Pulling out your phone, you called him, the line ringing with a sense of dread in your chest. After a few rings, he finally picked up, his voice sounding more tired than you'd ever heard it. "Hey, Y/N, what's up?"

"Piet," you started, your voice tight. "Natasha came by my office, she said you weren't doing so well. What's going on?" You heard a dry chuckle on the other line.

"Of course. No 'Hey man, I may be banging your sister but I wanted to talk to you', just straight to it." You could hear the sarcasm in his voice, but it was laced with a hint of actual pain. You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. "Look, Natasha came to me because she's worried, and now I am too. What's going on?"

There was a pause on the line, and for a moment you thought he might hang up. "Val's coming back," he said finally, his voice barely a whisper. "And I don't know what to do." Hearing the confirmation from him is like a dagger, sharp and cold, twisting in your gut. "And she is bringing Maria with her." You feel your insides twist, knowing this will never be good for anyone here.

"Maria? As in...Maria, Maria?" you asked, wanting to make sure you're thinking of the same person.

"Yeah," he sighed. "The one and only. She's apparently decided she wants to reconnect with certain people, and Val's using it as an excuse to come back and stir up shit."

You felt your jaw clench. "What kind of shit?"

"Well, Y/N, when I first saw her and spoke with her, she somehow knew you had moved here. Something about, 'so much misunderstanding in your relationship' or some shit like that."

Your heart stopped beating, and the realization that Val knew about your move and would probably talk to Wanda set in. You could feel the spiral slowly beginning to start, the fear of something happening with Wanda too much. "I... fuck, Piet. What about Wands? Fuck."

Pietro's sigh was heavy, "I don't know, man. I'm sorry. I should've called you sooner. I've been trying to figure out what to do, how to handle it."

You felt your stomach drop. "No, no, it's okay. I've got to tell Wanda. She deserves to know before Val says something to her."

Pietro's voice grew a little stronger, "I know it's a mess, but she's going to have to find out from us first. I can't have Val playing puppet master again. And, Y/N?"

You swallowed hard, "Yeah?"

"Thank you for...caring enough to try and warn her, to prepare her. But this is exactly why I told you to handle things before you moved here."

You felt a knot form in your stomach. "I know. I'm sorry, I should've been more upfront with Wanda from the start." You rubbed the back of your neck, the tension building. "But it's not like it's been easy. I didn't think that this...this would be what happened."

Pietro sighed again, "I know, I know. But that's the problem, Y/N. You didn't think. And when it comes to Val, and Maria, those two are always 7 steps ahead on the chessboard. Just...try to talk to my sister before Val gets a chance to. I don't trust that bitch."

You nodded, even though he couldn't see you. "I'll go right now. I'll talk to you later, Piet." You ended the call, slipping your phone into your pocket and taking a deep breath before walking out of the office. The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the hot mess of emotions you felt on the inside. You made your way towards your car, popping the trunk to throw your belongings inside. As you slammed the deck lid down, a voice came from behind you.

"Well hello, Y/N. What a small world."

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sparks-and-smoke · 2 days ago

Text

Chapter 4 Double Date (part 1)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (refered to as Petal) Word Count: 3760 Summary: How Steve met Petal.... Warnings/tropes: none really in this chapter. Soulmate AU. A/N: This chapter is just flash backs and lore. The fluff is coming though. Introducing you to Honey, the reader insert in "Sweet Nothing" coming soon. Aesthetic For this Chapter

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

December 31st 1938

If you were being honest today you could have burnt this place to the ground. The constant buzz of traffic, the noisy construction workers that littered every table, and the heady smell of coffee on most days was more than you could bear. But today, it was almost enough to send a girl running into traffic.

Sure, Bud paid well and when he was paying attention he would run off the rowdiest of patrons. But you were working lunch rush today which meant you’re boss’s back was turned to the register most of the time. Leaving you open to more pinching and patting than you could really handle without being more then a little short. That led to poor tips, and even worse comments. And you could handle the comments but you needed those tips to pay for school. You were however running out of fake smiles left in you to make quota this shift.

So when the door tickled in its familiar way yet again and you raised your face to greet the next jackass to take a seat at the tables. You plastered on a fake smile a mile wide. “Welcome to Buddies take a seat.”

“Hey Petal.” You registered the cool tenor voice before you even really made eye contact. Jame Barnes, here for his lunch break right on time. Your smile faded to a genuine grin as you made your way past more than one annoyed patron to come and see him.

“Hey,” You whispered with a deep sigh. James was one of those regulars you looked forward too. He was kind, funny, and handsome. And maybe above all he didn’t let shit slide when he saw it. You felt your mood lighting already. “I’m so glad to see you today.”

He gave her one of those soft smiles that said he saw right threw her relief . “You’re one of the few people that I don’t wanna hear that from. Did you know that?”

“Well, now I feel bad.” You jabbed with a wink, knowing full well that he probably worried about you working at a hole in the wall downtown. James had been coming in every Thursday since you started in October. He comes in on his lunch break at the apartment complex next door and orders the same thing every time.

You slotted him in his favorite spot near the window and took his order. The usual of course a turkey sandwich and a coffee, and slipped off to go help the little old man at table 4 who was waving his mug around for a refill.

“You got the patience of a saint. Did you know that?” he said, taking his food with a smile.

“No, just a waitress. It's not any different at any other diner in the apple.” You shrugged, curls bouncing behind your head. “Besides I’m just here till I can secure a place at station 375. You know that.”

You slid into the seat across from him, taking a cigarette when he offered it and chose to take your break. Five minutes probably wasn't gonna hurt anything and Becky could handle the assholes in the back who were damn near done. Bucky had taken a shine to you from the start. You had been fresh out of high school when you met him, with a head full of dreams and ambition. He had just been being polite when he asked you about your hobbies and plans, but it had ended with you taking up his whole break with talk about voice training and auditions. He had been so sweet listening to every tangent. Your friendship had blossomed at that moment.

Petal had been told before she had a face that could be in the talkies, and a voice to match, but there was just no way you were ever going to be able to make the weight requirements to not be laughed out of those studios. You were plump and soft, with an extra 15 pounds that just wouldn’t leave even with diet pills. You were just not built to be like those beautiful dames on the airlines or the compartment stores. You could never crack the cigarette and coffee diet either, it always made you faint and grumpy. You were just destined to be soft, no use crying about it, you just worked with what you had.

Besides, you knew that no one weighed you in to work on the air and everyone owned a radio nowadays. Those radio dramas always seemed like they would be so much fun.

You had been able to secure a place with St. Margaret's finishing school in your senior year, it wasn’t the most prestigious girls school in New York but it wasn't looked down on either, and more importantly it offered voice lessons, which was a requirement to reach your goals. It was expensive, hence the tips. But you were getting somewhere. You could feel it.

James shrugged and took a big bite of his sandwich, covering his mouth as he spoke. “I know, you’re better than this place. No offense to Bud but he has a rose among weeds with you.” You did your best not to roll your eyes at the conversation the two of you had hashed out many times before.

“Yeah, and you’re too good to be installing toilets in a mold ridden apartment building but here we are.” You took a long drag and blew it toward the ceiling with a wink. “Nothing is forever boss. You and I are both gonna make it out of this neighborhood one way or another. One more audition and maybe I can fly this coup.”

James seemed to wince at that, but if what you said had hit a nerve he left it be. Choosing instead to change the subject. “I've been meaning to ask you doll. What do you have going this Friday?”

“New Years?” You quirked a well shaped brow. “Well we're closed and I don't have class so, nothing.”

James grinned at that. “Do you wanna going dancing with me? There is a shindig down at the waterfront before fireworks. I’ll even buy you dinner.”

You blushed, caught off guard. “You know James I’d love too.”

“I sense a But coming…”

“But. My sister loves the New Years fireworks and I can’t rightfully leave her alone on her favorite holiday!”

James seemed unfazed, leaning back in his chair and draping his wide frame over the seat next to him. “Bring her. I have a friend that would love to escort a cute girl.”

You shook your head. “She got dumped just a few weeks ago. I don't know if she is ready to go on a date.”

“Then Steve is a perfect fit. He’s sweet, and approachable. Trust me I won't put your sister in a bad spot, and if she is uncomfortable I’ll take her home. No sweat.” He had talked about Steve before. A childhood friend, illustrator for the Morning Times, and from what she understood fairly shy. ”Please, let me take my best girl dancing.”

You highly doubted you were his best girl just judging by the amount of girls you have seen him with before, but you would let him compliment you for kicks if nothing else. “What time?” You finally relent with a smile.

Bucky’s grin was dazzling. “7:00, I’ll be there with bells on Pet.”

“Is it too late to cancel.” Honey sat on the bed with a flat brush trying to tame the wild mass that was her curls. She had let Angel, her twin sister, put a new roller pattern in last night and wasn't sure what to do with it all.

Honey sighed looked exasperated, she had never been as into glamour as you. Much more at home in her glasses and minimal make-up, but you had been pampering her with creams and perfume and rouge all afternoon to get her dolled up for your date. "I look more like Betty Boop then Honey. It's too much, Petal! This is you're thing not… Not mine."

She glance down at the ground, toying with her skirt. You knew what she meant. She wore pink lip, and twin braids, and hid among the shelves of the library. She wasn’t bold like her red painted lips suggested at the moment. But, it didn't meant she couldn't be.

You sighed and slid across the bed to take the brush out of her hand and started working the locks into some semblance of sleek. “Seeing how the boys will be there in an hour, yes, I think it might be too late to duck out.” Your eyes locked with hers in the mirror. Soft and crinkling on the edges. “It’s gonna be OK. Tonight will be fun. I promise.”

Honey looked as if she only half believed you. “And you're not gonna abandon me to a stranger.”

“Well hopefully by the end of the night Steve isn’t a total stranger. Besides, I've heard good things.” You said with a rub down her arms. “But no, I’ll be around and we will stick together.”

Honey hadn’t been super thrilled about the whole thing when you told her over dinner a few days ago. She really wasn't over Terry yet and the idea of going to a late night dance with a stranger wasn’t her cup of tea. But you would be there and you were always so confident about everything that it always sounded like an adventure even if, to Honey, it sounded like a nightmare. It took some convincing but she came around eventually. You had been talking about James for a while now. How he was the highlight of your week. Hardworking and charming. Judging by the way your eyes twinkled every time you brought up their plans. Honey couldn’t ruin that, she wouldn't.

“There, all done, take a look!” You said, as Honey turned to the mirror. Her hair looked like something out of a movie. Slick and glossy on top with pinned curls to frame her face and compliment her eyes. The bottom was a soft cloud of ringlets that sat on her shoulders like a pillow.

"You truly are a wizard! I can never get my hair to do that! What did you do?” She admired her own face as you flitted off to find something or another. She looks grown. Like those ladies down at the armory.

“Practice and patience Lovey!” You chime as Honey rolled her eyes. Very few people would apply the virtue of patience to any of the Darnell girls. But Petal least of all. If you could change the whole world overnight to get what you wanted, you would. In the meantime you would just be dramatic every step of the way.

“Here,” You popped out of the closet holding up 2 gowns. Both yours. A dark red dancing dress with cap sleeves and a daisy lace collar, and a soft blue plaid dress with a sweet bow around the waist. “Which one?”

“For you?”

You sighed playfully “No for you!”

“Both of those are your dresses.” Honey said, eyes growing a bit round.

“Yes, and all of your dresses still make you look like a schoolgirl.”

“I am a school girl.”

“You might still feel like one but you're not. You’re 18 now and your going on a real date with an adult man. And I want you to feel and look the part.”

Honey considered her choices. With a small sigh before she walked to the closet and pulled out one of you're dresses. A dark navy one with a wide boat neckline and white piping at the bottom.

“Can I wear this instead?”

Your smile was all teeth when you looked up. “Absolutely!”

"If you sigh one more time you are gonna deflate pal." Steve just rolled his eyes at Bucky's antics. He knew full well Steve did not want to be here. He would be perfectly content sitting on his building’s roof and watching the fireworks alone with no one to bother him like he always did. But yet again Bucky was gonna drag him out on a double date that was gonna end just like they always did. With Bucky taking home his pick between the girls. And Steve eating dust.

"That doesn't sound so bad." Steve cracked, watching as another mortar went off over head. And now it was Bucky's turn to roll his eyes.

"You're the only guy I know who would complain about a date."

"A pity date." Steve corrected.

"A DATE. Besides if this girl is anything like Petal your gonna have a ball. She is the sweetest."

Bucky has been going on about this Petal girl for weeks, maybe months. Steve has lost track. He goes with so many girls its not worth the headache. But he knows Petals name out of the lot. She has been a constant for a while.

"If you're so taken with this girl why is this you're first date?"

Bucky huffs and puts his hands in his pockets with a shrug. "Cause I actually like her, and I mean I really like her man, but she's not. You know…" Bucky gestures to his shoulder where Steve knows his soul mark is. Bucky hates talking about soulmates, something about it makes him deeply nervous. Steve has never quite understood it. Who wouldn’t want to find the one person in the world that would love you unconditionally and understand you inherently. It was stuff of fairy tales , and they were part of the privileged few that actually had one.

Steve knew that Bucky must be scared of rejection. He knew that his friend longed to have a family, a wife and kids and a good paying job. A better life then they had growing up. And it would be easier if his soulmate was the girl he knew from day one.

But it just hadn't worked out that way.

He watched silently as another mortar went up with a hiss. This was the big one. Everyone hushed to watch it explode in a big crackle of gold that shimmer on the way down. "Those are my favorite." He said softly. A small smile touching his lips.

"If she really is the one for you it wouldn't matter pal." Steve reassured, but his tone seemed to fall on deaf ears as Bucky was too busy craning his neck around looking for the Darnell sisters.

"You just don't get it Stevie. Soulmates they are just so. Different." As if Steve didn't have his own mark that weighed on him like lead on a line. But that was the end of that, as Steve heard Bucky's name echo behind him.

"Bucky! Hi been looking for you everywhere." The young woman was all dolled up, and in a winter coat with a brown mink collar. Her cheeks and nose pink from the cold. She bounced on the balls of her feet holding her sisters hand as they stopped in front of the men.

"Hey Pet, you look like a million bucks." Bucky drawled as his hand skimmed under her chin. Steve stood back and looked at his shoe's. Here we go, He thought as he prepped himself for the inevitable disappointment from whatever poor girl Petal had dragged along. Stealing himself, he straightened and waited for introductions.

When Steve looked over at Bucky's date he felt a pit form in the bottom of his gut. Oh no, shit, no… Steve immediately understood why his friend was so taken. And he was screwed. He was absolutely breathless. All his words dried up as he looked at her. She looked like the kind of person who should be surrounded by soft lights and fancy cocktails. Not standing in the middle of some pier in Brooklyn.

He didn't hear the first few minutes of introductions, too entranced by her eyes, her smile and her laugh. He was mesmerized by her. And when his eyes dipped lower to take in the rest of her body, that was a sight in and of itself. And it caused a blush to flood his cheeks as he quickly looked away.

"Steve, this is Honey. Petals sister." Steve drug his gaze back over to the girl that was supposed to be his date. She was a cutie too. similar build but a bit taller. Taller then Steve in her heels. But her smile was kind and her eyes sparkled under the lights.

"Hi," she greeted holding out a gloved hand. Her voice was soft and friendly. And if she was disappointed she didn't show it. "Thanks for coming out. I really didn't wanna be a third wheel."

"Well we couldn't have that." Steve recovered. all too aware of Bucky and Petal's retreating backs. "We should probably go or were gonna get left behind."

The night went surprisingly well. Honey insisted she didn't know how to dance so Steve was spared the humiliation of stepping on her feet. But she was cleaver and funny. And she didn't seem to mind his self deprecating jokes. He was having a wonderful time for the first time in… well maybe ever, on one of these dates. The problem was that every time Petal slid back in next to him. Or giggled at something one of them said Steve got totally derailed. His mind snapping to attention, and away from the cute book worm next to him.

And maybe he was crazy, or just needed to lay off the gin, but he could have swore Bucky's date was doing the same to him. There eyes locking more then once across the table. With a bright smile that felt like it was just for him.

It was only a matter of time before Honey noticed. "I know, she gets that a lot…"

"Uh, what?" Steve had been gazing across the dance hall like he caught a falling star.

"My sister. She has that effect on people. I don't know how she does it."

"She's hard to look away from." Steve admitted, glad that he was already flushed from the cold, because he probably looked like a ripe tomato now. He couldn't believe he was admitting to the girl he was supposed to be on a date with that he had a crush on her sister. It was so out of line that he couldn't believe he was saying it. But he had to say it to someone or it would burst out of his chest.

"Does that bother you?" Steve took a sip of his drink as he leaned back in his chair. Her admission made him feel less guilty about his own feelings towards her sister. But he was still a little embarrassed, it probably hurt to be someone's second choice. He just never expected that he would be someone's first choice ever. His mark stung a little, and he looked to the other side of the table.

Petal was looking in his direction too. Their eyes met and she looked down at her plate, suddenly embarrassed. And Steve's cheeks darkened once more.

Honey sighed. "Sometimes, I just wish that sometimes mom and dad had spared some of that magnetism for me. Some of that inherent confidence. I could never get the attention of a guy like James."

Steve looked over at his friend. He was the best of them. He was brave, handsome, and talented. Bucky could pick up a girl from the other side of the room just with a smile. And it made Steve's heart ache that Honey thought she wasn't as good as her sister because it simply wasn't true. In no world was Honey as less beautiful of interesting then her sister. He wanted to make sure she knew that.

"Hey now I don't think that's true at all." He assured softly. "You're sister is very beautiful. but, I had a much better time with you tonight then I would have had with any other girl Bucky had picked out. I think. I got pretty lucky."

"You're just saying that…"

"Naw, I don't say things I don't mean…” Steve added with a smile. Pausing to think. “You know, Bucky would never say no to teaching you to dance, if you went and asked. He doesn't like saying no to pretty girls."

She blushes like a rose and sinks into her seat. "I could never. I ... no no.."

Petal slipped in next to Steve and Honey. Leaning on the table to get a good look at the two of them. "Are you being a gentleman rogers?"

"Oh um," Steve tried to keep his cool at Petal's sudden appearance next to him. "Always Miss Petal, always."

"And what about you? Are you being a good date Miss Petal with your hands all over my friend?" He teased, taking a sip of his drink as he tried to look anywhere but at her. It was hard to look at her without thinking about her pretty smile and bright eyes. Or the mark on his shoulder that seemed to be calling him to her. He cleared his throat and looked away.

"I have been nothing but a lady." She winked holding up her hands, but her gaze softened when she looked at her sister. "Are you having a good time Hun?"

Steve could practically hear his heart beating in his ears as Petal spoke. He was so close to her that he could breath in her sweet perfume. It made his head spin. But he had to at least try and remain composed. Not be a bumbling fool when the prettiest girl in the world was standing right next to him. He watched as she spoke to Honey, her voice was even more intoxicating then her perfume. But he kept his mouth shut. So he didn't say anything stupid.

Steve wasn't even sure how it happened- one moment he was talking to the girls and making them laugh, the next Petal was talking Bucky into teaching her sister to dance.

"Well I'm not much of a teacher," Bucky had said with a smirk. "But ill do my best."

Bucky gave her a charming smile that always made girls melt, and Honey was led all too easily onto the floor.

Steve just watched with a smile on his face as he watched his best friend sway gently with his date. But now he was alone with a girl that made him forget how to breath.

"So, did I hear you tell my sister you are an artist…"

Tag List: @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers, @delilah-hey @tldrthor @littlestxli @otterlycanadian @moviegurl2002 Tags are still open if you want one.

#steve rogers #ce characters #bucky barnes #marvel #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x you #fate stone #victory garden

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