#Or he's incapable of making his own decisions

[wonderlandcrown]

𝐼𝑛 𝐴 𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑂𝑓 𝑀𝑦 𝑂𝑤𝑛

𝑉𝑖���� 𝑋 𝑌𝑢𝑢(𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟)

a/n : second fic on here woohoo. take a look into your future with the worldwide famous actor, model and influencer : Vil Schoenheit!! Future au so Vil is 22 here, reader is younger but is over 18. Reader referred to as "Yuu, you, they/them prns" yuu's name was saved as "my saviour" ever since they broke into Styx to rescue Vil. Talking abt getting kids haha who said that

genre : fluff and romance(established relationship)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚♛♡♕˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Cats and rabbits Would reside in fancy little houses And be dressed in shoes and hats and trousers In a world of my own

It's two o'clock, the director has just called for a break. Vil was filming a new movie all the way over at the Queendom of Roses, it's supposed to be a live action version of one of the classics animation films made in the queendom. Though Vil usually disliked live actions(he thought them uncreative cash grabs), he'll admit the writing for this wasn't as bad as he imagined.

Vil was playing as the villain's younger brother this time, the tritagonist. A refreshing break from all his villain roles, the White King was graceful, otherworldly, and a hidden taste for violence, you had teased that Vil was basically playing himself.

Vil stood by the catering section, taking a gulp of water along with his vitamin supplements. He scrolled through his phone checking for messages, there were some from Rook, they haven't lost contact even after graduation, in fact they text each other more often now that they don't see each other as often.

Rook had sent some pictures of his recent excavation site, along with candid shots of the team he was currently working with. Most of the team members had surprised, or- scared, expressions while Rook still had that same familiar smile. Vil sent him a reminder to not freak out his new acquaintances too much.

There was also Epel, he had only recently finished his 4th year internship and is now taking a break in his hometown, helping his family. Epel had grown so much ever since Vil took him under his wing during NRC, it makes Vil a little sentimental, only a little.

Epel had sent Vil the monthly supplies of apple juice and apples(Epel was here to visit Deuce anyways)to the hotel he was currently staying at, Vil received the pictures of boxes at the hotel doorstep.

Vil then decided to chat with Yuu,

my queen💜 : dear, epel just sent the apples and apple juice to our doorstep, did you receive them?

my saviour🤭 : (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧ʸᴱˢ

my saviour🤭 : I brought them inside alrd

my queen💜 : make yourself something to eat with the apples, a fruit salad would do nicely as an afternoon snack.

my queen💜 : assuming you had finished your lunch

my saviour🤭 : uhhhhhh

Vil sighs as he sees the last message, really, you're not incapable of not taking care of yourself when he's not around, so why does it seem like so.

my queen💜 : love. answer me

seen 2:13 p.m

Seen? How could you leave your jaw dropping, gorgeous, caring, considerate fiancé on seen?! You better have a good reason for leaving THE Vil Schoenheit on seen or he'll-

Vil's internal monologue of rage was cut short by a sudden *ping*, you had sent a photo of... A cat wearing a pink bow. Definitely not Grim.

my queen💜 : yuu. explain. now.

my saviour🤭 : I found it outside the hotel ╥﹏╥

my queen💜 : 1, emoticons don't work on me. 2, why did you bring it into our hotel room

my saviour🤭 : I alrd gave Dinah a bath thoo ://

my saviour🤭 : she's clean I swear🙏🙏

Vil can practically feel his blood pressure rising.

my queen💜 : so you decided to postpone your lunch to take care of a mangy stray cat?

my saviour🤭 : yeahh😘(plz don't be mad plzplzplzplzplzzpzl)

my queen💜 : fine just.. remember to eat, and don't let it go in our shared bedroom

my saviour🤭 : you're gonna lose your head when you learn where me and Dinah are rn

Vil then decided that putting down his phone for the time being would be a wondrous decision, for the sake of his sanity and blood pressure.

All the flowers Would have very extra-special powers They would sit and talk to me for hours When I'm lonely in a world of my own

Vil wasn't very fond of the idea of making small talk with any of the cast members during production, in his opinion, it would've affected his filming. It's the actor's job to bring the character to life for the audience, anything less than that should be classified as a sub par children's play.

Though Vil did make an exception for his lovely Yuu that seemed to love causing him migraines(and Rook, but the latter would still drop by unannounced even if Vil told him no)

That didn't make the actor any less surprised when you showed up with a bouquet of purple hyacinths.

"You're so lucky you managed to show up during our break time. If it was during filming I would've kicked you out."

"First of all, no you wouldn't. Second of all, I memorized your schedule, so this was planned. "

Vil huffed, he's not surprised you memorized his schedule, you've been doing that ever since you two got engaged.

"Nevermind, I'm more interested in the reason for your visit, and the purple hyacinths too... You do know what the flower symbolizes, no?"

Purple hyacinths. Forgiveness

You shuffled your feet and held the bouquet a little bit tighter, suddenly anxious. "Uh, yeah, you seemed really angry yesterday.. You've left me on seen.."

Great seven, Yuu, your worried face is honestly adorable. Vil almost forgave you for the bringing in the stray cat when you made that expression, but he steeled his nerves and pretended to not be affected.

"Hmph, what did you expect? You brought back a stray cat without my permission into OUR hotel room." Vil emphasizes the word our as he crosses his arms, how could you not ask for his opinion beforehand?

"Y-yeah, I'm sorry, but it was raining and-," You suddenly cut yourself off, realizing Vil was raising an eyebrow, this isn't the time for that, my dear. "No, no, that's an excuse.. I'm sorry, I got these flowers for you."

You push the bouquet of hyacinths towards Vil, they were wrapped in a light yellow silk cloth and tied together by a black ribbon. A sight for sore eyes, Vil admits. He takes the flowers from your hands and starts looking closely at the bouquet, trying to find fault among the flowers(he likes being petty okay?), but he finds none whatsoever.

"You're forgiven, and you can keep Dinah, just don't let her on the bed."

The joy on your face could almost match the one on the day Vil proposed to you, his heart melts at the sight, and this time he doesn't hide his affectionate smile. Yuu may be magicless but Vil swears that their smile has some special power.

There'd be new birds Lots of nice and friendly how-de-do birds Everyone would have a dozen blue birds

A month had passed since Vil had started filming, he was given a break by the director. His character doesn't show up until the climax scene from this point on, and a child actor was called in to play the kid version of the White King during the backstory sequence.

This was enough for Vil to make up for lost time with Yuu.

You were standing outside the filming studio, holding Dinah in your arms, and Vil could see the silhouette of Grim inside the limousine, no doubt feasting on caviar and the fancy tuna you loved to buy for the little glutton. Vil was holding a vase of the hyacinths you'd given to him a while ago, he still managed to take care of the flowers while filming.

"We're gonna go to the park." You announce once Vil was inside the limo, Grim looks up from his very, very messy plate, "Myah? Why not a restaurant? The queendom's food is kinda bland, but the Great Grim makes it a point to eat the local cuisine of any place he goes to!"

Vil sighs, adjusting the vase of hyacinths on his lap, "You have enough on your plate already.. And I meant that literally."

"It's peaceful and makes a nice picnic spot, I had already visited there once and I thought you'd like it, take a break from the usual bustling crowd you have to deal with, y'know?" A beautiful smile graces your face as you say that, and Vil suddenly feels rejuvenated, as if he didn't spend an entire month filming.

"You're as thoughtful as ever, dear."

After a while, the limo stopped at a red light, you turned your head towards the window and saw up on a tree, a family of blue swallows.

You were silent for a while, craning your neck to stare at the swallows, it made Vil curious too. Though he had to squint to take a good look at them as he was sitting parallel to you.

Vil could make out at least two smaller swallows, one of the older ones was sitting still while another was focused on the children.

"There's still an unhatched egg." You whisper, you were still focused on that small family of birds. Vil couldn't understand why, he thought of asking Grim but the latter wasn't making eye contact with him for some reason. (usually Grim would be bugging Vil to buy him stuff)

For some reason, Vil feels like he was left out of a very important conversation.

Within that world of my own I could listen to a babbling brook And hear a song that I could understand I keep wishing it could be that way Because my world would be a wonderland

The chauffeur had dropped you all off at the park, Vil had entrusted him to take care of his prized hyacinths for the time being, you told Grim to "take care of your little sister Dinah", to which he responded with grumbles and protests against the term "little sister". That left you alone with your fiancé, Vil Schoenheit.

As you sit on the picnic mat taking plates and sandwiches out of the basket, Vil approached you with a question. "You were acting weird in the car." "..Huh?"

Your confused face seemed so genuine that Vil was already second guessing what he saw, "You heard me, is there something you want to tell me? Is it about birds?"

A blush creeps onto your face, which Vil mistakes for embarrassment. "I don't mind if you want to adopt some birds, my dear, but you have to keep in mind that you already own a cat and a gluttonous direbeast, I don't want to see you heartbroken if either one decides that your new pet is going to make their next meal-,"

"It's not about birds!" You suddenly blurt aloud, you were lucky that the park isn't a popular tourist spot, because that definitely would've turned some heads.

Vil blinks in surprise, "Sorry..? Wait- no, Yuu, what do you mean this isn't about birds?"

You were blushing like a tomato now, "The- the birds... This isn't about birds Vil.." You cover your face with your hands, keeping whatever else you had to say muffled.

"Yuu, I can't hear anything if you do that." Vil furrowed his brows, whatever you had to say was clearly important, it made Vil worried.

"..."

"Yuu?" Don't do this to your fiancé, please. Vil has absolutely no idea what's going on, what do you want to tell him??? He takes your hand away and cradles it using his own, the soft gesture making you raise your head.

"Yuu. Please." Vil Schoenheit has picked up the skill of reading people over the years as an actor, model and influencer, but still he failed to read his beloveds current feelings.

"..How do you feel about children?"

Vil feels like he was thrown into an alternate universe.

"That's what you were thinking about?" Vil chooses his words carefully, or as carefully as a person can be when one's beloved thought that he would be adverse to the idea of kids.

"My love, if you wanted to have a talk about that you could've done it anytime, and no need to be so shy." Vil says steadily while using his free hand to tilt your head up, you were reminding him of how you were during your school days.

"But you were busy with filming.. And I had barely begun the wedding preparations! didn't seem right to discuss the idea of children when we are barely adults.."

Your eyes darted around, and for a while Vil was silent, the river near the spot you had chosen made its presence known.

"Well.. You're not wrong, this isn't really the most suitable time for us to have children.. But there was no need for your shyness, my love, I'm not going to leave you just because of something like that."

Vil sat down beside you on the picnic mat, your hand still in his, he tilted his head to take a look at you.

"...Thanks, Vil." Your reply was barely audible, but Vil heard it just fine.

"You're always welcome, dear."

Vil Schoenheit is an actor, model and influencer, but he is also a son, a friend, and a partner, and truth be told he values the last three roles more than the others, especially the role of Yuu's partner.

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a/n : got a little angsty at the end whoops. tell me in the comments or reblogs if you wanna be tagged in chapter 3

[emmiesoverthemoon]

✧ overwhelming warmth

Pairing: g-dragon / kwon jiyong x reader

Word Count: 4,309

Summary: Management has forced G-Dragon to collaborate with you—a renowned producer who creates sound like no other—in order to push his creative boundaries with another set of ears, and he is not happy. Unable to accept his jealousy of your skill, he takes it out on you and learns that may not have been the right decision.

Tags: rivals to lovers, forced proximity, jealousy, tension, enemies to lovers, second pov

cross posted on ao3 here

Resentment had settled in Jiyong’s chest long before he even met her. It twisted through his ribs like a parasite, feeding on his pride, his ego, the carefully built persona he had spent very well over a decade perfecting.

“Have you heard of her? She has been in the industry for only a year, and has already smashed records and won awards, with only one studio album…” His manager’s voice droned out; or Jiyong stopped caring about what he had to say. When he had stated your name, he had barely resisted the urge to scoff. Her? He had spent over a decade crafting his empire, pushing boundaries, redefining sound. He had done it alone. And now, this woman—this newcomer—was being handed his album as if he were some small incapable baby in need of training wheels.

G-Dragon was not a man accustomed to feeling second best. His name was carved into the very bones of the Kpop industry—his sound, his vision, his ideology. He had bled for every note, burned for every lyric, and now, he was being told that did not suffice. It sat horribly in his chest.

“I can do it myself,” he had snapped. He was the King of Kpop for goodness sake, he didn’t need another person in the room constantly with him, poking in his studio, lecturing him how to make his own album.

His elder had barely blinked. “Then don’t even bother imagining a release date. Not with us.”

That had silenced him.

“Right then,” His manager started, “You two will stay together in your home until the project is completed. This is because I know that otherwise you would never show up to work. It will help to have a fresh pair of hands and ears.” Jiyong walked out of the office, not leaving a single word in his wake.

Now, standing in the threshold of the house where they would be forced to coexist, Jiyong felt that disgust and resentment swell again like bile in his throat. He had not even seen her yet, and already, his skin burned with irritation.

And then, you opened the studio door.

You didn’t look smug. Didn’t look victorious or condescending. A nonchalant expression was worn across your face. A polite one; a normal look you’d expect for someone welcoming a new coworker to the office. If anything, the only readable emotion was confusion. As if she, too, had been thrown into this situation against her will.

"Let’s get this over with," he muttered, shouldering past you without waiting for a response.

He didn’t see the way your brows pulled together at his hostility. You did not even manage to get a single word of greeting or introduction out yet, and he had already decided that he had enough of your presence. Even though he is older than you, you were still shocked and a little angered by the audacity of his actions.

But he felt it when you followed him inside, closing the door behind yourself with a quiet, resigned sigh.

彡

You weren’t what he expected.

Jiyong had been prepared for arrogance, for gloating. He had braced himself for some pretentious genius who would relish every second of taking over his album. Or even someone who would immediately start getting all nosy and searching through his studio, eager to copy his work and steal it as your own. But you were… silent.

Not timid. Not weak. Just… observant.

That only irritated him more.

You didn’t react when he snapped in your direction. Didn’t argue when he ignored your suggestions or dismissed your ideas with clipped words. He wanted a fight—wanted her to give him something to latch onto, something that would justify the bitterness clawing at him. Something that would charge him to his management to persuade them that you were indeed the villain he imagined you to be, and to allow him to fly solo once more.

But you never took the bait.

And then, you started working.

It was infuriating, really. How easily you molded sound. How she didn’t force a song into being but rather coaxed it, like she was uncovering something that had already existed in the universe, hidden until you laid your hands upon it.

Worse, you made it look effortless.

Jiyong had spent years honing his craft, bleeding for it, burning himself to exhaustion to achieve what he had. And yet, you stood there, in his studio, weaving together melodies in ways he never would have imagined, as if the music you were creating was an immersive extension of your very soul and being rather than something she had to fight tooth and nail just so it could sound the exact way you desired.

And he despised it.

He despised you.

Not because you were bad at what she did—but because you were better than he was.

彡

You weren't blind.

From the moment he arrived, the animosity radiated from him like heat off pavement. He barely looked at you, barely spoke to you beyond clipped instructions and muttered complaints.

And for what?

You had never done anything to him. Never insulted his work, never dismissed his talent. In fact, you had admired him and his work prior to all of this. You had looked up to him, had studied his music, and had learned from the very foundation he had built. G-Dragon was one of your inspirations.

But now?

Now, you could barely stand to be in the same room as him. It was like walking on broken glass—careful, quiet, blood boiling; knowing that at any moment, he could snap. And when he did, it was over something purely idiotic. It enraged you.

When your manager proposed this idea to you, all you felt was pure excitement and enthusiasm. To work so closely with one of your idols on his newest studio album? You were immediately on board. You had imagined this experience to stimulate the feeling of watching Leonardo Da Vinci sketch out the ‘Mona Lisa’, or witness the frameworks of the Pyramids of Giza in Ancient Egypt be conceptualised and built. Never in your mind did this hatred for you cross over these thoughts. And frankly, you had had enough.

"I think the layering is too heavy here," you had said on one late night together, adjusting the volume on one of the tracks they had been working on. "It’s drowning out the—"

"I know how to produce a song," Jiyong interrupted sharply. "I’ve been doing this shit long before you have even dreamed of touching a soundboard."

Your eyebrows ticked, taken aback.

"Okay," you said carefully, trying to ignore the frustration rising in her chest, which was a frequent, uncomfortable feeling you had been having recently. You had repressed enough anger that could cover across several people, working with G-Dragon. “But I think if we just—"

"Just what?" He scoffed, turning to face you fully. His eyes held enough rage to kill someone, his expression hard as rock, "Let you take over? Because that’s what you really want, isn’t it?"

The floodgates of your anger management had smashed wide open at that last comment.

"Are you serious?" you snapped, voice incredulous. "I’m literally trying to help you, GD.” Until he held an ounce of respect for you, you had refused to use his real name, which you fore-sought was not going to happen any time in the future. If he did not believe you deserved respect, then neither did he, age-respect hierarchy be damned. “That’s what I was asked to do by my management, just like you were. It’s not my fault if you can’t handle the fact that someone else has good ideas!"

His jaw clenched.

"You’re nothing but a burden in here," he muttered.

Your breath caught.

And then, you laughed—a sharp, humorless sound.

"God, you are insufferable”, you aspersed. "I’m sorry that I am capable of creating something incredible that millions adore. I’m sorry that you like my work. But I can’t help your jealousy, Jiyong. That’s something you have to deal with. Pull your thumb from your mouth and grow up."

You turned on your heel and left, slamming the door behind you.

For the first time, his mouth was left agape; he had nothing to say.

彡

Silence never felt heavier than when you were gone.

Jiyong sat in the now-empty studio, staring at the untouched buttons and controls. The weight of his own words pressed against his ribs.

You’re nothing but a burden in here

He hadn’t meant it, not really.

He had been cruel because cruelty was easier than admitting the truth—easier than saying “I feel threatened by you, I feel small next to you, I hate that I admire you.”

To G-Dragon, guilt was a foreign sensation, but he felt it now, curling in his gut like something alive. He pulled out his phone, opening his message app to request your address from your manager.

The next day, he showed up at your door, embarrassed. Behind his back, he clutched a bouquet of flowers; nothing extraordinary or extravagant, but larger than average to hopefully settle some of the rocky waves between you that his tidal current had forced between you.

After looking in the peephole of your door, you opened it cautiously, your eyes flickering across his face, analysing his inability to meet your eyes as normal, but this time, not for disdain, but out of humiliation. The way his brows were furrowed and eyes low, drifting toward the floor and your feet; you soaked it all in, the powerhouse of the Kpop industry G-Dragon, was here, on your doorstep, flushed as a beetroot. A part of you liked what you saw. Suppressing those images down, you remember his words; you were pissed off at him. Your gaze sharpened.

"What is this?" you asked.

He exhaled. "An apology." He revealed his left arm from behind his back, bringing the bouquet of beautiful pink and white lillies into your line of vision. The sharpness you held in your eyes was loosened. Flowers were an achilles heel in your anger.

Crossing your arms, your right eyebrow raised expectantly as you broke the silence once more, “For what?”

Jiyong met your eyes. Finally, you could see into the pools of his irises and truly pick apart his humiliation.

"For being an ass. For—" He hesitated. "For taking out my insecurities on you."

A beat of silence.

And then, to his surprise, you smirked. Small and amused.

"Well," you sighed, stepping aside, your words dripping, sticky with sarcasm, “I guess you do know how to learn and grow after all."

And just like that, the tension between the two of you shifted. It had initially started small, like a bud of a lily that had yet to bloom. Glances that lingered too long. ‘Accidental’ touches that weren’t so accidental. One night, while adjusting a track together, his hand brushed against yours. Neither of you moved away. A crack of electricity shivered through the both of you. You could see goosebumps quickly scatter and raise across his hand.

It built slowly, like a cacophony of an orchestra rising to its crescendo. Jiyong started to notice small quirks about you. The way you pulled the edge of your bottom lip between your teeth when you were truly focused. How you counted the beat of anything by tapping your pinky finger against your palm simultaneously to the sound. Your incessant habit of humming the same tune he could not identify when you were deep in thought. How your voice sounded when the hours you would spend with him would reach the night, a soft, almost whispery tone that eluded him to a softer, sweet version of yourself he had rarely received the honour to see.

Before he knew it, you plagued his mind. In his solitary moments away from you physically, you invaded his mind. He imagined all different kinds of situations with you as the focal point. Taking you out to dinners, exploring the world together, spoiling you for as long as you would allow him to, being beside you in galas, showing you off to the world as his girl. As long as you were a part of it, he had yearned for it.

His own realisation interrupted his fantasies and caught him off guard. He draped his fingers across the lower sector of his face, which he had just realised was quite warm. Goodness, were you aware of just how big the effect you have on him was?

彡

The house was quiet except for the faint hum of your phone playing music from down the hallway in the bathroom. Jiyong sat on the couch in the vast living area, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, pretending not to be listening for the sound of the shower running echoing, bouncing across each wall, reverberating in his head.

It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

But lately, everything about you had started to feel that way.

The way you laughed—low and warm, like the last sip of wine. The way your voice lingered in his brain and had no means of budging away, similarly to how his cigarette smoke would cling to his clothing and continue to hold on tight no matter how many wash cycles it endured. This woman must be completely unaware that she was making his stomach tighten. The way they worked cooperatively together now, in sync, as if their hands had learned the rhythm of each other’s movements without even trying. It felt oddly domestic, and that was natural to him, too natural.

It was ridiculous.

And worse? Jiyong had no idea if she felt the way he did. If he invaded her head in every possible moment, clawing at the inside of her mind and filling every groove and cavity. If when she gazed at the moon after sunset, she imagined the beacon of it's light illuminating his features just as he did. If he was the first thing she thought of as the morning sun beckoned her awake, and if her last thoughts at night were of him as the stars in the sky tucked her in the guest bed's silky sheets. All he could do was hope.

A sudden noise pulled him from his thoughts—the sharp creak of the bathroom door cracking open, followed by the softest, most hesitant voice.

“Jiyong?”

His breath hitched. The voice was small, unsure. Embarrassed. His heart stuttered, completely unprepared for the sheer intimacy of hearing his name spoken like that. Now that he thought about it, he did not think he had ever heard his name slip from her lips; at least not so sickeningly saccharine. The fantasies that generated as a result of your voice speaking to him that way made his blood rush all through his body.

He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice casual. “Uh… yeah?”

A pause. And then, with the quiet resignation of someone who really really didn’t want to ask but had no other choice— “I… forgot my towel.”

Jiyong’s brain short-circuited.

For a moment, he just stared at the hallway leading to the bathroom, as if his body hadn’t yet caught up with what he’d just heard. And then—heat. So much heat. It crawled up his neck, spreading fast, filling every inch of him with something unbearably awkward and hot. It all was so overwhelming and so so pleasurable at once.

He swallowed hard. “O-okay. Um.” His voice cracked. He winced. “Where is it?”

“In my room. Top drawer.”

Jiyong shot up from the couch like he had been set on fire. It was a simple request. A completely normal, mundane situation. You had revealed how your memory was not amazing sometimes. But the sheer implication of this situation—the fact that you were in the bathroom, wet, barely wrapped in anything, waiting on him—sent his mind and imagination into overdrive.

Jiyong all but sprinted to your room, yanking open the drawer with more force than necessary. His hands fumbled as he grabbed the first towel he could find, cursing under his breath at his own inability to act normal. When he returned to the hallway, the bathroom door was still mostly closed, cracked open just enough for him to see a sliver of your smooth, bare shoulder and your exposed clavicle glistening with droplets of water reflecting the light from the ceiling. His throat went dry, he had never knocked so quickly in his life.

“Here,” he blurted, shoving the towel toward the opening like it was a lifeline.

Your hand appeared, fingers brushing against his as she took it from him. Too warm. Too soft. Jiyong could have sworn he heard your soft lips inhale sharply.

“Thanks,” you murmured, voice somehow even quieter than before. Something thick and charged filled the small space between them. His fingers twitched. He needed to leave. Needed to walk away before his face actually caught fire.

But before he could, she let out a soft, breathy laugh. “You’re blushing.”

Jiyong groaned, running a hand down his face as he took a step back. "No way.”

“Yes, you are.” He could hear the smirk growing on your features. He let out a humoured breath, his embarrassment still at an all time high.

“I am not.”

Her laughter grew, muffled by the door but still unmistakably amused. Teasing.

“Shut up and finish your shower,” he muttered, already turning on his heel before he could embarrass himself even further. Behind him, the door locked shut, and Jiyong exhaled sharply.

Ridiculous.

Absolutely, completely ridiculous.

Later that night, technically approaching the a.m., you had found yourself back in the studio alone. The release date was approaching within the next week, and you were giving the album files a listen to ensure that everything was in order for the umpteenth time. Jiyong had grown to know that you were a perfectionist. Even more so than he could be; but he still understood your need to nitpick.

After your first—and currently only—album had soared so successfully after releasing, you had felt antagonising pressure to succeed again. Your fans were expecting the world and more from you—and even though you were eternally grateful for them, you needed a second to breathe. You had grown antsy, nothing that you were adding to this song was making it work. You let out the occasional groan or heavy sigh anxiously; had you really reached your peak before your career prolonged?

Wondering why he could still hear noise from the studio long after he had retired to his room for the night, Jiyong cracked open the door and looked upon you, a look of sympathy in his eyes. The scene of you before him screamed that you felt a heavy weight on your back.

Your hands trembled, the corner of your lip was tucked in your teeth, a tick lay across your expression as your head held the headphones that were drumming noise into your ears worryingly loud told Jiyong everything he needed to know about what was going through your mind currently. You were completely zoned in, your eyes not breaking contact from your monitor screen, so you would not have expected to see a ringed finger reach down to press the spacebar, and the same hands brush against your hair to remove headphones—alleviating some pressure from your head—to be gently placed on the table. You swivelled in your chair to the culprit.

"Jiyong, what are you doing..?" You spoke, your tone unsure of whether it should be angry, sad, or whispered.

"Giving you a chance to have a second to breathe." He replied, softly seeing through you. You stood and let out a sigh.

"I just need it to be perfect. I don't want to release something the people won't like, I need them to value it——"

"People will like what we have made. They will hold it dear to them and value it because you have made it. Not because of its objective value. Because they like you." He interrupted you, his tone soft, holding gentle finality. You nod, breathing softly. A beat passes, and suddenly you realise just how closely you are standing—too close—to Jiyong. A pit forms in your stomach, your mind racing at a million miles an hour. Is it hot in here? You needed to remove your hoodie, you were wearing it because it was cold when you entered.

Was it always so overbearingly warm in here? You tug on your sleeves and look into Jiyong's dark eyes and see something unreadable.

Your breath mingled with his, the air charged with something unspoken. His eyes flickered to your lips. Your fingers twitched at your side. And then——

You moved away, your temperature burning too high to handle. You could barely hear Jiyong exhaling sharply, running a hand through his hair because your heart was thrumming extremely loud in your chest, you were causing a racket in your own head with thoughts and fantasies.

What the hell was happening to you?

彡

The next week had passed much faster than you expected, and the release date had come and gone. It was globally renowned as a masterpiece. It was your masterpiece with Jiyong. Expected by many, it had been nominated for several awards, including Album Of The Year at the Grammys. And of course, it had won by a landslide. Jiyong's half of your shared acceptance speech astounded you.

"I dedicate this to my co-producer," he had opened with, voice steady. "She put up with me. She challenged me. And she’s the reason this album is what it is. She’s the most talented person I’ve ever met, and if I had to do it all over again she would be the first person I would run to in a heartbeat." The crowd cheered loudly after the rest of his speech finished, concluding with the typical thank-yous and acknowledgments.

After the Grammys had ended, the air in the vehicle back to Jiyong's home was heavy. You knew your time together had concluded, and now you needed to go home. This made you melancholy, knowing your paths did not cross paths at all before production commenced, and it would be unlikely that the both of you would converge often afterwards either. After you completed packing your things into your travel bag, you dragged your eyes to meet Jiyong's sadly.

"This was fun." You sighed, not even bothering to hide any fraction of disappointment or sadness in your voice. Jiyong swallowed.

"It doesn't have to be over, you know..." He replied nervously, confusing you. His face and body language mirrored that day when he showed up to your house with flowers and an apology. You held that morning dear to you, even if it felt like eons ago now.

"It is, isn't it..? The album has been made, now we have to go and live our lives," your right eyebrow raised. You were unsure of where he was going with this, you didn't exactly love when he was vague like this.

"What I mean is that it doesn't have to be... exactly how it was before production started..." His voice dropping low now, the confusion seeping deeper within you. "What I mean is that I want to continue to see you. I need you. As close as this," Gesturing vaguely, but you knew what he meant. He took a step forward, now standing as close to you as that night a few weeks ago in the studio.

"Closer than this," He whispered, and you catch his eyes flickering at your soft lips, the confession fanning across your blazing red cheeks. The familiar warmth was flooding your body, forming that same pit in your stomach. You can barely meet his strong eyes, the confusion long been gone, you understand exactly what he means now.

This time, however, you do not move away. Boldly and impulsively, you meet your lips with his. Everything else seemed to blur, as if the universe held its breath. It started soft, tentative, as if testing the waters of something both of you had wanted for months but couldn’t quite give in to. Your heart raced as you felt his warmth, the slight tremor in his hand as it brushed against your cheek, tracing the outline of your jaw like he’d been waiting for this touch too.

The kiss deepened, slow at first, but then urgent—like every quiet, stolen glance, every touch that lingered a little too long, was finally released all at once. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that mirrored yours, and you melted right into him, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as if you couldn’t get enough. The tension they’d both carried for so long dissolved in that single, searing kiss, leaving nothing but the raw, undeniable truth of how much they’d wanted this. And in that moment, it was as though time stood still, just for them. You pulled back just slightly, your lips curling into that oh so familiar smirk that Jiyong had grown to adore as you met his gaze, still breathless.

“Wow,” you teased, your voice low and dripping with amusement, “you really did need me, huh?” You let the words hang in the air for a moment, your fingers still resting on his chest, watching the flush spread across his face, satisfyingly.

Jiyong then grinned, eyes twinkling with mischief as he leaned in just enough to brush his lips against the shell of your ear. “Oh, trust me,” he murmured, voice rich with teasing confidence, “I’ve been dying to prove that for months.” He pulled back slightly, looking you over with a playful glint in his eyes. “But I guess now you know.”

thank you for reading!

fic number two! i thank you all eternally for the love on my first one, it really helps my confidence when i see you guys interact! so i thank you for that

my reqs are open if you want any kind of prompt in particular! i'm open to anything you got ;)

[skiptomyylu]

Okay This Might Be Stupid: A Comparison of Adam Young and Aziraphale for Clarity Sake

Now I don't mean a comparison of their characters to say one was better than the others. It's more so a comparison of their personal relationships with Heaven and Hell. A comparison of how those relationships/connections formed their most impactful decisions with incredibly powerful beings.

Now...lets start with Adam Young and his relationship with Hell.

...crickets

It doesn't exist. Adam Young had literally no relation to hell other than Satan being his biological father. He had his friends and his family and Hogback Woods. Nobody in Hell really came up to talk to him and Adam didn't KNOW he was the son of Satan either until he started coming into his power OR until the devil showed up.

Adam Young has no connection to hell aside from Biology, and Hell has no connection to him. Of course he was able to stand up to his Father and Heaven and Hell and his own Destiny.

Because he's so brave- I love Adam so much

Aziraphale and Crowleys talk with him gave him a bit more confidence

HELL HAS NO HOLD ON HIM

They couldn't sway him even if he wanted to. Beelzebub TRIED sure offering to him that he'd get to rule the world. But he didn't want it anymore. He was able to break away from what was written and make his own Destiny.

Now...Aziraphale and Heaven.

Heaven has so much hold on Aziraphale- it's something else.

Emotionally, Physically, Mentally- Heaven is his foundation and fundamentals. They fed him the most rigid and incorrect ideas and lies and when he starts breaking from the mold they reprimand and belittle him until he's back into the shape they want him in.

They can watch him whenever they want. They already watch his miracles and got upset for having too many "frivolous" ones. They can pick and choose whatever they wish to do to/with him. He knew NOTHING of Jobs trials until the day it happened and the acted as though he was an idiot for not understanding.

HEAVEN has a hold on Aziraphale. Oh they have the strongest hold on Aziraphale- millions of years in the making. So strong that we can see the indent lines from their cold callous fists in Aziraphales words and ideals throughout history.

So of course the Metatron could come down, manipulate Aziraphale, and get EXACTLY what he wanted for him. OF COURSE it's that easy for them to do.

When it's said Aziraphale had no choice- we don't mean the Metaton tied him down or beat his ass and screamed "GO TO HEAVEN! NOW!"

It means his going to Heaven was NEVER a choice to begin with. The Metatron did not come down from HEAVEN to ask a yes or no question. He wasn't gonna leave without a souvenir- the tartan wearing Angel made of the clay heaven can mold however they like.

Oftentimes when a parent asks you to do something- it is not a question. It is a statement- an order- formed as a question for MAYBE the sake of politeness. But there is no NO option.

When the METATRON comes down from Heaven and offered you the position of Supreme Archangel so perfectly and carefully gift wrapped and catered towards you there is no NO option. There is no version of that conversation where Aziraphale would have said no.

So...can we stop calling Aziraphale an idiot or an asshole or something for doing what was set in stone the moment the Metatron walked into the bookshop.

TOODLEOO!

[mollypaup]

i think a really great aspect of oofuri is how much it gets mihashi's ass for being overly timid and dependent. it would be really easy to write off the way he and abe interact as being abe's fault because he is overbearing, and a lot of people do, but it has some really great moments of going "hey, you cannot hide behind abe or depend on him to make every decision. it's not good for you, or him, or the team."

[the-labyrinth-of-me]

Wait did both Alice and Zane record Alan when he was at his lowest point? Didn't Alice make her exhibition to show the world what she sees? To show Alan the truth about himself? That it never was Scratch visiting and terrorizing her, but Alan himself? Did she depict his "self" and Zane depicted his "persona"? The two sides of him that he wishes he can eliminate bc they brought him into trouble (Scratch representing anger and the fallouts with paparazzi and stuff, Zane representing his self-destructive behavior with alcohol and drugs and the party nights)? The both sides that caused his marriage to start falling apart? Was that the reason Zane made that video of Alan when they were on that booze and drug-fueled bender while working on the Return manuscript? Is this party video the companion piece?? Alan's downward spiral, same as Alice's photos? Do they fucking work together aasdffjfjfkfk

[icekkeugf]

Make you feel it, Yang Jungwon (18+)

Pairing: Younger!Jungwon x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Jungwon confronts your dismissal of his unsaid yet obvious feelings and somehow, you let him lure you into your own bed.

Genre: Smut, Best friends to ???

Heads up: Unspecified age gap between Jungwon and the reader-no weird business though, Jungwon calls the reader “Noona”, the reader is drunk but still conscious of her decisions, softdom!Jungwon, making out, one tiny slap, unprotected sex (don't do that maybe), hair pulling, creampie, multiple rounds implied

Wordcount: 3,490 words

Author's note: I might have tried a little with this one. I have been wanting to contribute to the Enhablr community again. So, here's something for the Jungwon lovers :-) Hope you enjoy this, I would absolutely love feedback or constructive criticism. Happy reading ♥︎

He's in far too deep. Deep in love with you. 

Maybe, not so much. He convinces himself, though he's not entirely sure.

It's insane, really, how the tick in his jaw only relaxes when you assure him that the man beside you means no harm—has no romantic inclination towards you, rightfully so, as your cousin. A casual arm of his slung around your shoulder that borders no thoughts of personal space, it took everything—and, I do mean everything—in Jungwon to not yank your cousin off of you without further clarification upon first sight.

However, he is momentarily distracted by how the fairy lights perched upon the front door glare lovingly with their yellowed tint at you, almost as if it was meant to luminate only your presence. He thinks the fairy lights are mocking him and his reluctance to admit his feelings, a scoff barely slipping past his tongue when the lights continue to taunt him with a ridiculously focused glint on your form as you hold up your half-conscious cousin from succumbing to sleep with a thud, right here, on your porch.

Jungwon is tense when you poke a finger at his bicep, a brow scrunched up with a tinge of amusement breaking through when you tease him for being just as much of a handful as your cousin. It's insulting, how you liken him to another man, as if he was just as incapable, but, he lets it pass for now, a sigh exiting his lips when his eyes drop down to your cheeks, flushed enough to tell him that you're under the influence as well.

Without as much as a word spoken to you, Jungwon leans over to pull at your cousin, scooping the man in one arm and pushing his limp body in, only letting him rest when he gets to the couch situated in the living room. The sound of unsteady shuffling and a hiccup from you has him turning around, the same bubbly feeling from earlier returning to play tricks at him. "Noona, are you okay?" It's finally time for him to open his mouth, eyes scrutinizing your every move and finally deeming you unfit when you stagger towards him, falling into his chest head first with a giggle. "Mhm, I am okay, not too drunk."

Liar.

He almost sighs again but stops when his hand unconsciously lifts to linger above your head. It drops as soon as he realises, instead finding the curve of your waist to hold you up. Jungwon steadies you in less than a second, allowing your lower half to lean completely onto his hip with a nudge. "Noona..." He calls, softly, a honeyed voice dripping into your ears almost too smoothly, it has you wondering if he always sounded this sweet, almost...desperate. You wonder if he gets like this only around you. "Hm?" You peek an eye at the man, lips twitching and breaking into a smile.

"Oh, what will you ever do without me?" He hoists you up, just a little so that you're balancing on your feet. The curl of one end of his lips has you biting yours. There he is, you think. "You're right, what would Noona ever do without you, Wonnie?" You mumble, lips parting enough to sip at the water he graciously offers, a hand still around your waist. It's intimate. You realise. Normally, you'd keep Jungwon at bay, boundaries drawn very clearly to verify that friendship is what you two have. Tonight, though, things are different. Your head feels heavy, bearing a separate weight of its own, and your feet feel light, as if it's not carrying the rest of your body. There's a fuzzy feeling in your chest and a lopsided glance at Jungwon only makes things worse.

When did he get so pretty? You wonder. No, he's always been pretty, you reason. Sparkly eyes that watch you carefully, a brow cocking up to decipher your behaviour and his plump, coral lips parting, providing you just a sliver of his tongue that darts to lick a sheen of saliva at his bottom lip. It's only then that you catch yourself midair, fingers gently hovering above Jungwon's cheeks.

Oh.

One step, two and then, finally, three. You back away, putting reasonable distance between you two, only to have worked in vain when Jungwon closes the distance. It's a sudden but welcome change when you feel yourself sobering up, the air around you two palpable, crackling with tension. "Did you ever consider me a man, Noona?" His question is quiet, it has you looking into his eyes in momentary confusion before your eyes flit away. You're caught, red-handed. "What does that mean? Of course, I do..." You mumble, feigning an aching head with your thumb and pointer finger working in tandem at your temple.

"Do you really?" He takes another impossible step closer to you. "Look at me, Noona." His words, coming out in an unfamiliar gravel, make your knees weak, and, suddenly, you're aware of being present with him as if he ties you to the reality you're in. You visibly hesitate, it ticks him off, though he chooses not to express it. You watch him quietly with pieces of your hair framing the peripheral of your vision. "I do, Jungwon." You assure him, but really, you wonder if you're convincing him when your fingers twiddle in front of you, scrunching your brows together.

He scoffs, tongue poking inside at his cheek. The audacity to lie, to consciously choose to deceive him even while you're borderline drunk—it upsets him as much as it angers him. Jungwon can't believe that you muster the strength to keep yourself in control in an inebriated state of mind. But, you notice it before he does, as always, that one vein in his temple protruding, as if warning you to tread lightly. You want to say something, anything, to ease him up, ask him where all of this is coming from. As if you don't know.

No, you really don't, you think. It's not like you watch Jungwon round the corner of your residence from the gap between your curtains, through the window, when he appears to be nervous about approaching your front door even after being your friend for four long years. It's not like you know just how much Jungwon loves Marvel but continues to geek about Studio Ghibli with you instead just because you like it better. It's not like you notice Jungwon chowing down on dry, undercooked ramen at 2 in the morning, with you, when really, he likes his noodles cooked perfectly with enough broth. It's not like you realise that Jungwon's university is a 30-minute detour from your office and yet, he insists on dropping you off every morning, citing the unsafety of public transport as the reason.

"Noona, you're really bad at this. This game you're playing," You exhale quietly, hoping it would ease the clogged up tension in your chest. He leans down, just enough to not hurt your neck from looking up at him for too long. His hand at your waist, previously anchoring you, now applies a tad bit of pressure, urging you to back up against the nearest wall. Dizzy eyes blink up at him deliberately but he refuses to let it crumble his resolve.

You feel it now, more intense than ever. Maybe it's the many drinks from earlier but your heartbeat increases, getting louder and reverberating in your eardrums. You can tell that Jungwon is barely managing to keep himself in check if the way his eyes narrow down at you and the way his grip on your waist gets cruel are anything to go by.

You've kept it hidden all these years. Locking your feelings away in that tiny part of your mind, shoving it down the back of your subconscious. It wasn't meant to come down to this, have you caged in between a wall and Jungwon in your living room. A finger interrupts you, grazing your chin with utmost affection, so softly that you'd think a rougher brush of his finger could cut you. Against your better judgement, you lean into his touch, Jungwon raises a brow at this. “Nothing to say for yourself?”

You abandon all reason, the logic behind your behaviour all these years fading into a carnal need that you kept under covers, prompting your fingers to hook onto the hem of his tee. Grabbing at it, you hope he gets the message. Not really, no, you assume when his brow cocks further up, almost criticising you, telling you you’re making a fool of yourself. As if you've been burned, you retract your fingers quickly but Jungwon doesn't appreciate this. 

“Who said you could do that?” He pulls you flush against him, “Asking for something and then taking it back. You're really stupid when it comes to men, Noona.” His words are laced with faux disapproval. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head at you. “This won't do.” You're about to ask what he means by that but he's already pulling at your wrist, making a beeline towards your bedroom. 

You want to say you're surprised when he slams your door, lining you up by the door frame when you're both inside. You are surprised, though, when Jungwon presses himself up against you, hot breath fanning across your face and lips converging into one before you can process anything. You let out a muffled gasp, eliciting a groan from him, thighs pressing together to ward off potential arousal.

Jungwon dislikes the action, a knee of his prying some space between your thighs, lifting up and weighing at your centre to make its presence really known. You're oblivious to all this though, mind reeling at the sharp nip of his teeth at your lower lip, a warning, if you like.

You comply, allowing him to take you as he pleases, it's the least you can do after all you've put him through, right? Licking his way into your mouth, his hands wander down your body, finally settling at your hips, the pads of his fingers making indents on your skin. You don't know what it is, but something tugs at your heart. All this while, you might as well have made this up in your mind. But, Jungwon's fingers, unlike his lips that are relentless and making a statement on yours, are gentle, it reminds you that he is here, holding you, making you his.

Jungwon, taunting you, pulls away, not without his thumb wiping at your lips absentmindedly. You tasted just like he imagined, if not better, the dried lip tint sweet on you, smudging onto his as well. Glossy with his spit coating your lips, your teeth pull at it, a quiet whine full of complaints directed at a teasing Jungwon. “What? Now you're begging for a taste of me. Isn’t that right, Noona?” He tilts his head to the side, pushing you to do something, if not say something. 

With a grab of his collar, you pull him towards you quickly, it amuses him. “Shut up and kiss me.” You manage to speak for the first time in a while, “Whatever you say, Noona.” Jungwon obliges with your demands, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. Assuming the lead, your tongue prods at his teeth which takes him by surprise, allowing you to walk him backwards till his calves hit one of the bedposts. 

“Aren't you eager?” He speaks into your mouth, not allowing you leverage over him by flipping your positions so that now you're the one closest to the bed. “That's unfair, Noona. After you've played with me so much…” His thumb caresses your cheek as if preparing you for something. “You don't get to enjoy this so easily.” The building high quickly wears off, his words serving as a caution.

Jungwon looks down at you and with a nudge of his hand to your shoulder, you lose balance, falling onto the mattress with a bounce. The boy settles onto the bed with a knee guarding both thighs at the sides. Finding your cheek once again, he tips your chin upwards, eyes locking with a breathy gasp from you. “Jungwon…” You trap him with a circle of your thighs around his hips, calves hanging loosely off the bed. 

He humours you, just this once, he tells himself. “What is it?” He pries, thumbing onto your jaw, pressing you to answer him. “Please.” You state, searching his eyes. Jungwon barely allows you a glimpse of his toothy grin before he's maneuvering you onto your knees. You understand just what he wants, as you always do when it comes to him, turning around to pucker your behind, arching your back by the slightest to tempt him, as if he's not already deep in the trenches knowing you're under him, so pliant and inviting. 

Just for him.

The thoughts have his sweatpants constricting around the visible tent between his legs. Jungwon lets pass a throaty groan at this, fighting the urge to rut himself onto the edge of your bed. No, he can't have that, not when he already has you exactly where he needs you. He doesn't think twice before asking you to strip, shimmying his clothes off and grabbing a handful of your butt to grope at while you clumsily tug at your tank top. 

With a needy whine, you push your ass towards him, throwing him a desperate look over your shoulder just for you to get needier at the sight of his bare torso. You can't make out much of him, your room bathed in the dark and only a singular ray of lantern by your porch penetrating your window. “Fuck, Noona.” There's a sharp sound of something smacking and it takes you a moment to register that Jungwon's palm had just struck your ass. You don't feel the pain, if anything, the impact has you doubling forward, panties possibly soaked through with a gush of your pathetic arousal pouring out.

“Look at you, sprawled out for me like this. Didn't think my pretty little Noona was into this. You're sick. Pathetic even. ” As if to make a point, he runs a knowing finger down the middle of your panties. The fabric does anything but cover you, he notes, moulding itself to your pussy by the way it's damp. The sticky feeling it provides rips a moan out of you and Jungwon decides that he's had enough. He would quite literally pass out if he didn't bury himself into your heat within the next minute.

Pushing the slit of your panties to the side, he eases a thumb into the rim of your hole, toying there for a second before rubbing languid circles at your bud. He wanted to make you work for it, he did but his cock is twitching, crying for him to envelope it in your cunt. He promises himself to teach you a lesson next time, lining his bulbous tip up against your hole. The view is nothing like he had imagined every other night, fucking his fist at the thought of having you to him. Your pussy is divine, he concludes, drops of your juices beading at your lips, it's like you already creamed yourself once before he could get you to do so himself. 

You're about to complain, eyes misty and curious about the hold-up but it's like Jungwon reads your mind, pushing at his boxers so that the fat head of his cock finally tastes you squeezing around him. It's painful how you clench around just his tip, he has to grit his teeth, kneading the flesh of your ass lovingly though he itches to deliver another smack to it, “Breathe, baby, I got you.” He mutters, bullying his way into you when you seemingly adjust to him. You cry with a start when he fastens your wrists behind you, holding it in one hand while the other deceives you for a second when it hovers above your hair softly. It's the next second when the same hand finds itself fisting around your strands and pulling you up.

Flush against him now, his cock lodges itself completely into you, filling you in a way you've never been before. “Oh, fuck—too full…” You manage to sputter, chest heaving although he's doing all the work. The angle he's nestled into you is mind-numbing, it has you dumb and thinking of nothing but the feel of his cock, your insides committing every trace of his vein to memory. You just know you'll be recollecting this for a while when you need that extra push when stressed. “Yeah? Full of me, aren't you? Does it feel good, baby?” He must be insane, you think, to ask you something so obvious.

“So, so good. Jungwon!” You attempt to say more but you can't think of any way to put how he's making you feel in words. You repeat the same with a shriek and it has him biting back a laugh, “So fucking dumb. Dumb on my cock, aren't you, Noona?” The hand in your hair makes its presence aware with another tug, positioning your shoulder to his lips and Jungwon takes the opportunity to sink his canines into your skin. His cock is merciless, ramming into you with powerful, rhythmic thrusts that force you forward every time he sinks into your heat again.

There's a familiar feeling creeping up your back, the muscles in your lower abdomen flexing and relaxing once in a while and your thighs part further, as if welcoming more of him into you. One particularly sharp rut of his hips has his pelvis slamming into yours and his cock seems to find a different angle to fuck itself into, massaging the one spot that has your toes curling and lips parting in a silent scream. “Is that it, Noona? Fuck, you're clenching around me so good. Fucking hell—” He pauses momentarily, lifting a thigh of yours higher around his hips to gain better access to you. 

Resuming his ministrations, Jungwon assumes a bruising grip on your wrists. “That's it, Wonnie, just there! Gonna come!” You warn, pushing yourself onto his length, rolling your hips. “Let go, baby, just like that, fuck yourself onto me.” It isn't long before you're spasming around him, eyes shutting tightly and walls clamping around his cock as you ride your high. Jungwon is teetering on the edge of his orgasm too, muffling himself into your neck with a bite of your flesh as he fucks his release into your inviting hole. He meant to pull out, but he couldn't deny himself the pleasure of coming in your tight pussy. He's not in the least apologetic, continuing to sheathe himself in your shared cum with slow, controlled thrusts. 

You can't help but wince, sensitivity quickly making itself apparent when he shows no signs of stopping. Jungwon shushes you though, basking in the glow of his well-deserved orgasm. He reluctantly pulls out, holding you up just in case. “Wait a minute, Noona.” He speaks quietly, letting you find your balance while he retrieves a washcloth damp enough to clean you up. His touch is gentle, reassuring you at this moment, that you're in this together, it wasn't a lapse in judgement. At least not for him. 

“Wonnie?” Your palm cups his jaw, moving to face him while he kneels by the bed. “Did you really mean what you said and what you did?” Jungwon is quick to nod his head and you surge forward to embrace him with a composed poise. “I didn't mean to do it this way. Though, I don't regret this in the slightest—it just wasn't the best way to bring up the way I was feeling. I think I was sick of you treating me like I was just like other men.” He pauses, “I really like you, Noona.” He finally confesses.

You don't know what this means for you two, you don't know how you feel about this just yet. But, you do know that you're willing to figure it out, with him, preferably. So, you tell him so, pulling him under the covers when he nods and his lips twitch into a grin. “You still have to make up for all you put me through.” Jungwon reminds you, brows quirking up teasingly. “Will this suffice?” You ask, mischievous hands feeling him down and finding his half-softened cock, surprising him with a jolt. “Oh, you're a fast learner.” He coos, shuffling you around until you're securely on top of him. 

You find yourself tangled in sheets with Jungwon all night, showing him, in multiple ways and positions, just how much you're willing to do to make it up to him. What you fail to remember is your now not so passed out cousin in the living room, who has to bear the torture of crashing at your place.

All rights reserved to @/icekkeugf 2025. Please do not copy, steal or translate any of my works.

[fear-is-truth]

how do you think patrick will react when you try to break things off with him?

breaking up with patrick bateman .ᐟ.ᐟ

tw ; mentions of drug use, homicide

a/n: apologies for the word salad.. my brain is kinda fried from my classes. also he’s such a pretty crier

𝜗ϱ ┆ denial & gaslighting

his immediate reaction would likely be disbelief. the idea of someone rejecting him, particularly someone he views as an extension of his life, would be incomprehensible to him. this disbelief would manifest as condescension and dismissal, accompanied by gaslighting.

“you’re leaving me?” he’d say with a strained smile, eyes narrowing to slits. “that’s ridiculous. you don’t mean that.”

patrick wouldn’t process the emotional weight of your decision, instead assuming that you’re acting irrationally or that something external has influenced you. his need to maintain control would drive him to undermine your perspective, likely accusing you of being under the influence of drugs.

“have you been doing too much cocaine? or maybe those diet pills? you’re not thinking clearly, darling.”

this gaslighting would be less about convincing you and more about reinforcing his own denial. patrick lives in a world where his perception is reality, and your decision to leave disrupts that. denial is his first line of defense.

𝜗ϱ ┆ manipulation & desperation

as the conversation continues, patrick would pivot to emotional manipulation. while he lacks true empathy, he is an expert at imitating emotional responses to “fit in”. he’d beg you to reconsider, framing his argument that appeals to your sense of loyalty or guilt.

“think about everything i’ve done for you. everything we’ve had together. you can’t just walk away.”

if manipulation doesn’t work, his desperation would become more overt. while patrick is typically composed, cracks in his facade could begin to show. you might see a flash of raw panic in his eyes.

“you don’t know what you’re doing. you’re making a mistake.”

𝜗ϱ ┆ begging

patrick would eventually resort to begging, and this is where the irony comes in—remember the time he dumped evelyn with an air of theatrical superiority, telling her that she’s “simply not terribly important” to him.

“you can’t do this to me. please, don’t go. we can work this out—whatever this is, we can fix it. i’ll change.”

of course, he is incapable of real change, and his promises would ring hollow. but the desperation in his voice would feel oddly genuine.

𝜗ϱ ┆“i need to return some videotapes.”

when it becomes clear that he can’t sway you, patrick would retreat, unwilling to let you witness the full extent of his unraveling. maintaining appearances is critical, even in moments of personal crisis. with a curt, almost robotic tone, he’d excuse himself with his signature non sequitur:

“i need to return some videotapes.”

this statement, bizarre and out of place, serves two purposes. first, it allows him to escape the confrontation without completely breaking down in front of you. second, it reaffirms his facade of control.

𝜗ϱ ┆ private despair

once alone, patrick would no longer be able to hold himself together. the breakup would be a complete fracturing of his identity. while he outwardly projects confidence, his inner world is fragile and deeply insecure. your rejection would strip away the validation he relies on to maintain his ego. he’d cry—silent, bitter tears of frustration and humiliation.

𝜗ϱ ┆ homicide as a coping mechanism

but patrick is incapable of processing emotions in a healthy way, so the tears wouldn’t lead to introspection or change. instead, they’d fuel a darker spiral—he’d channel his feelings of loss into compulsive, destructive behaviour. violence is often an outlet for him, and your departure could serve as a catalyst for a spree of homicidal acts. (e.g killing homeless people)

[tapwater-made-everyone-gay]

!!!SPOILERS FOR THOSE WHO HAVEN’T LISTENED TO THE VENGEANCE SAGA OF EPIC THE MUSICAL!!!

I find it really interesting that people are so upset about the Poseidon loss, using “it’s weird that a mortal beat a god” when the whole thing with gods in Greek mythology is that they’re parallels to humans. That’s why they have emotions, human anatomy, feel pain, and bleed (even if it is ichor that comes out). There are multiple cases of gods being beaten by humans, primarily demigods, but still humans—MORTALS. What makes them so powerful is their domain. Take that away? They’re practically powerless.

Poseidon is shown to be arrogant, claiming that the only reason he’s still hunting Odysseus (DESPITE killing his men, teaching his lesson, and even likely knowing about the brutal siren deaths) is because “the top dog can’t be seen letting his prey go. How else can I send the message that I’m a big dog? It’ll ruin my reputation!” He’s a cocky bastard, playing with his prey, telling Odysseus to get in the water because it’s more entertaining to him than just getting his revenge and killing him then and there. He talks like he’s never felt pain in his life and doesn’t think he ever will because “the top dog is untouchable”.

But he forgets that he needs his domain, needs his range to keep himself from losing. When Odysseus pulls the same trick with the wind bag (which he should’ve seen coming), he isn’t ready, because he’s never had to fight that fight. Odysseus has, and he has the anger to push himself farther. The god gets downed (which has happened many times with many gods as discussed earlier), and he still acts cocky. Odysseus opened the bag. He can’t leave. But that knowledge—knowledge that he’s stuck here and will eventually die anyway—allows Odysseus to make his decision. He can hurt Poseidon for as long as he’s capable of, make him suffer just as much because, hey, he’s going to die anyway, right?

Now, Poseidon has an out. He can get rid of the storm before Odysseus even lays a hand on him, let him go home, and flood Ithaca like planned. But he doesn’t, because he’s so in his own head that he doesn’t realize the position he’s in. And then Odysseus makes the first stab, and then the other. It hurts, even more because, like I said, Poseidon has probably never felt this pain before. And Odysseus doesn’t plan on stopping, not until Poseidon calls off the storm. He’ll go until his arms stop working, and if Poseidon hadn’t given in, he probably would’ve.

Poseidon can’t stop him either because the wounds are made before the others can heal. Does this punishment seem familiar? It should, because it’s the exact same one given to Prometheus by Zeus. Truthfully, it’s a punishment made for a god.

I should probably stop here because this has gone on way too long, but I do understand why some people might think it’s weird. We’re raised to believe that any god is untouchable, that they’re all-powerful and incapable of harm, especially at human hands. But that’s not Greek mythology. Gods aren’t capable of death, but they are capable of suffering, and a lot of them do. Just because the one suffering this time is one of the “big three” doesn’t mean it’s unrealistic.

Epic’s message isn’t the same as the original, and it never has been. It’s about what you’re willing to sacrifice, how far you’re willing to go for your own gain, and what the repercussions are when you do. Poseidon really kick started that message hard, and I think it’s poetic that it ends with him facing the outcome of that message himself.

Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves, but it’s not the same being on the receiving end, is it?

[thedeepspacecadet]

Night of Secrecy

Summary: A retelling of Night of Secrecy from the POV of a paranoid and anxious Sylus, based on my previous post.

Word Count: 1.2k words

Notes: Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x MC, no smut but definitely intimate, angst with a happy ending, mentions of myth and Sylus lore

this is my first ever fanfic, i would love feedback!! also, I am incapable of naming things sorry about the title!

Thump, thump, thump.

Sylus wondered if you could hear his heart beating out of his chest as he carried you to his room. Did you feel it fluttering under his skin as you pushed him onto the couch? As you mounted his lap, did you get a peek behind the mask he donned just for you that night? Sylus, who was cocky and confident by nature, felt as if he was about to come undone. He couldn't bear to show you how nervous he was and he hoped that he was still coming across as his normal, laidback self.

He had been on his best behavior since you left the N109 Zone after the auction. He realized, almost too late, that he was pushing you too far and too fast. As he watched you leave for Linkon, he made a pact with himself to let you set the pace. Sylus refused to let his own greed and desire get in the way of finally being with you again. He made his intentions clear with you whenever he could, never shying away from admitting how much he cared for you. But at the same time, he did his best to not pressure you into reciprocating those feelings. He was simply happy that you allowed his unabashed flirting. Sylus wanted to make it clear to you that if you were ever ready, he would be waiting for your with open arms. Now, he could finally admit to himself that his restraint had paid off. Despite his actions during your first trip to the N109 Zone, you were finally starting to trust him. Maybe even more than trust him, as evidenced by the fact that he was currently underneath you.

Before he had enough time to process his thoughts on the matter, you were pressing your lips to his. With that simple action, the mask that Sylus had worked so hard to keep in place that night shattered. His first instinct was that he must be dreaming, he was only ever lucky enough to kiss you in dreams, both in this life and his last. His second instinct was to devour you. Before he could act on this impulse, he was proud that he remembered his decision to let you set the pace. He refused to scare you off by being overzealous. He could've spent hours on that couch, hands roaming each other's bodies, only pulling away from the other's lips when one of you needed to breathe. And that was exactly what he planned to do. That is until you asked him to move to the bed.

Sylus decided, as you wrapped your legs around him and he carried you across the room, that his plan needed to change. He could no longer afford to be patient, he already knew how this could end and he still awoke from nightmares with a phantom pain in his chest to remind him. If Sylus could finally have you, and not in some twisted, soul-bound dream, he would do everything in his power to make the most of this moment. But as he laid you down on the bed, he couldn't help but retreat into his own paranoia. In the haze of your touch, he had forgotten the implications of you being with him. Your career, your freedom, everything you had worked for could be gone just by being with him here tonight. He had hurt you, kidnapped you, forced you to resonate. He could almost laugh at how incredulous it sounded, one of the top hunters in bed with the Association's most wanted criminal. If he was finally coming to this realization, he worried that you would follow suit. Could he really be this selfish? His hands were moving before his brain could overwhelm him with the guilt.

He did the only thing he could think to do: cover your eyes and tell you not to look. It seemed almost juvenile, like playing peek-a-boo with a child. But what other option did he have? Lest you open your eyes and see not your kindred spirit, but the monster this incarnation of you has come to know. He wouldn't survive the pain of you regretting this, couldn't live with the thought that you might change your mind. Sylus hoped that if he could just keep you from looking at him, you might not see all of his faults. The desire to feel his love reciprocated by you was drowning him. He made a valiant effort to keep his hands over your eyes until he was so drunk on the feeling of your body under him that he lost sight of his goal to keep you in the dark. As his hands finally got another chance to explore you, he felt his mask slip back into place, his smug demeanor finally back. It certainly helped when you made your own greed known. Sylus allowed himself permission to be greedy back, and with your consent, he was ready to swallow you whole.

His joy lasted for what felt like a millisecond, before he felt your hand on his chest, pushing him away. A voice in the back of his mind reared its ugly head and sneered, of course she would come to her senses, why would she want a monster like you. Bile rose in the back of his throat, but he pushed through. With his last breath before his mask broke yet again, he asked if you truly wanted to stop. To his disbelief and delight, you answered him by pulling him into another kiss. He spent the rest of the night worshipping you, taking every crumb that you gave him and savoring it like it was his last meal. For all he knew, it could have been.

In the morning, he woke to you in his arms and he didn't bother to hide his happiness. You stayed and that was all that mattered. After a quick shower to wash the last few hours off of him, Sylus had fully expected to crawl back in bed with you until he had to leave. Instead, he was greeted by a cold bed and an empty room. You were gone. He didn't know if you had finally decided that being with him was a mistake, or maybe you had just used him to blow off some steam. Whatever the reason, at least you weren't there to see him fall to his knees. It was almost a relief, really, that you finally comprehended just how ill-fated a relationship between the two of you would be. Sylus surely wasn't strong enough or selfless enough to let you go, even if that would have been best for you. He made peace with the fact that he would just have to beg you for any scrap of yourself that you could give him, if only so he would have a reason to stay by your side.

His downward spiral was interrupted by a car horn blaring outside of his window. He couldn't help but smile as he peered through the glass and saw you waiting outside in the car. When he made his way outside, he certainly couldn't hide his surprise when you made your intentions to stand by his side clear. It was almost pathetic, how quickly you could change his mood. He was like a puppy, when you called he came running. Maybe he could've tried harder to stop himself from kissing you right then and there, but what would be the point? He was sure you could hear his heart confessing to you on his behalf anyway, with its incessant thump, thump, thump.

[shanastoryteller]

i'm going to move on from supernatural posting, i swear to god, but first i'm going to talk about ep 9x07 bad boys

the episode itself is fine and good (i mean it's another example of dean having a support network while sam can't have anyone and dean keeping secrets while when sam does it it's the worst betrayal ever but that's not what this is about and sometimes i think about what this show did two earnest, loving traumatized characters by turning them into the most tragic versions of themselves and - ok, this really isn't what this post is about)

but fandom interpretation of this episode actually drives me up a wall because it does a disservice to literally every character

one, john did not leave them without enough money for food. dean gambled it and lost it. there's nothing in canon to say that john was taking longer than expected, that they were running out of money, none of that. dean gambled food money and lost it and then tried to steal to make up for it. he was 16 when this happened and it was a bad decision but i don't think he should be at all vilified for this. he made a dumb mistake and then tried to fix it with another dumb mistake. john was right to be mad and sam was also right to tell him that he shouldn't beat himself up about it. just like with shtriga - yeah, dean was climbing the walls stuck in that hotel room. but you know who else was stuck in that hotel room? sam. and he didn't get a break to go play at the arcade. again, i'm not blaming dean here, he shouldn't have been stuck taking care of his brother that young and he was a kid and john leaving his his children behind while hunting a child eater, whether he was using them for bait or not, is crazy. but dean stealing food wasn't about john's neglect and all the sacrifices dean had to make for sam. it was about him trying to fix his fuck up

two, and this is the one that really gets me, dean didn't go back with john because he had to take care of sam

listen. listen to me. i am speaking from experience when i say this

parentified siblings are still, first and foremost, siblings. especially with only 4 years between them. the show shameless i think did an absolutely excellent job with this and is why i love the first few seasons of it so much. fiona is without a doubt parentified, she is raising those kids, but she's also clearly their sister not their mother

i know later seasons dean and fandom like to make it seem like dean literally raised sam and john was just a background figure but like. that's not realistic, and frankly doesn't even make sense

the reason dean leaves sonny and goes with john isn't because he feels like he has to keep him sam safe. it's isn't because he feels like he has to raise him. it's because he loves him

you are reducing dean to the most pathetic woe is me archetype with this interpretation and ridding him of all his rich loyalty and care and love to saddle him instead with comparatively flat duty. dean is more than sam's caretaker. he's his brother

there's also no reason for dean to feel this way. he just massively fucked up in taking care of sam - that's why he's with sonny in the first place. john has alternate people to take care of sam when he can't do it himself, as he has just proven, and while i don't think we should turn a couple teenage mistakes into making dean incapable, dean absolutely would - and did! he carries every fuck up regarding sam with him! so right now he's really, really low when it comes to his own estimation to take care of sam and leaving sonny because of that doesn't make any sense

but he looks at his brother and is reminded how much he missed him and loves him and realizes staying means he loses his brother. the good and the bad. so he goes, because he loves sam more than anything else

this is also why sam leaving for stanford cuts him so deep. that's why this moment is a parallel to that rather than being unrelated. stanford isn't about sam leaving dean even though he has a duty to care of him, because he doesn't. dean's 22 and at this point is always hunting with their father so there's no reason for sam to believe his presence is necessary for either john or dean's safety

no, dean's mad because he chose his love for his brother over a normal life and sam didn't

(sam didn't want to choose at all but this isn't about him)

anyway. dean fucks up sometimes and john sucks but not quite in the ways fandom thinks and dean loves his brother past reason or sense

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Dumbledore is a little full of himself

Like, I read Tales of Beedle the Bard, and I was struck by how Dumbledore comments on his own cleverness and knowledge in his notes incredibly often:

This prejudice eventually died out in the face of overwhelming evidence that some of the world’s most brilliant wizards(3) were, to use the common phrase, “Muggle-lovers”. [...] 3 Such as myself.

(Albus Dumbledore on “The Wizard and the Hopping Pot”)

I think I may say, without vanity, that both my Fountain and my Hill performed the parts allotted to them with simple goodwill. Alas, that the same could not be said of the rest of the cast.

(Albus Dumbledore on “The Fountain of Fair Fortune”)

Even I, Albus Dumbledore, would find it easiest to refuse the Invisibility Cloak; which only goes to show that, clever as I am, I remain just as big a fool as anyone else.

(Albus Dumbledore on “The Tale of the Three Brothers”)

The guy can hardly talk about anything without talking about how smart and wise and brilliant he is. Like, no humility whatsoever.

In the books, everyone keeps singing his praises like Dumbledore can do no wrong and the only one who keeps saying Dumbledore can be wrong is Harry. And even then, in Harry's limbo vision of King's Cross, which I don't think is really Dumbledore, it's telling Harry envisions him saying something like this:

“And you knew this? You knew — all along?” “I guessed. But my guesses have usually been good,” said Dumbledore happily

(DH, Ch35)

Dumbledore doesn't speak to Harry all that often throughout the series, with book 6 being the one he interacts with him the most. And we see that even in conversations with people, Dumbledore loves to hear how wise and great he is. When he says "I might be mistaken" it's with the tone of "I'm right and everyone else is wrong". Which is usually the case often enough, yes (though not always), but he does it a lot, and I found it interesting how often he uses this phrasing and how smug he seems about it:

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers — “Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!” (GOF)

“I may be wrong,” said Dumbledore pleasantly, “but I am sure that under the Wizengamot Charter of Rights, the accused has the right to present witnesses for his or her case? Isn’t that the policy of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Madam Bones?” he continued, addressing the witch in the monocle. (OotP)

“Payment?” said Harry. “You’ve got to give the door something?” “Yes,” said Dumbledore. “Blood, if I am not much mistaken.” (HBP)

Dumbledore uses this phrasing when he knows what he is saying is correct. He is saying it not because he thinks he might actually be wrong. When he actually thinks he is wrong, he makes excuses and tries to reason why the decision he made was actually reasonable at the time:

“Harry, I owe you an explanation,” said Dumbledore. “An explanation of an old man’s mistakes. For I see now that what I have done, and not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young ... and I seem to have forgotten lately...”

(OotP)

He is incapable of saying: "I was wrong, it happens, let's move on," it has to come with reasoning or an excuse. He blames it on his age, not that he made a wrong judgment call. This isn't humbleness.

Dumbledore is a character who wants to be humble but just isn't. he considers modesty a virtue. Hell, humility is practically his favorite trait Harry possess:

Harry, who could not see any way out of this without flatly lying, nodded but still said nothing. Slughorn beamed at him. “So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond — you were there, then?

(HBP) - Slughorn mentions how Dumbledore appreciates modesty.

The third brother in the story (“the humblest and also the wisest”) is the only one who understands that, having narrowly escaped Death once, the best he can hope for is to postpone their next meeting for as long as possible.

(Albus Dumbledore on “The Tale of the Three Brothers”)

He appreciates being humble and modest and sees it as being wise. He derides Tom for thinking of himself as "special" or "clever" even when it's true (and when he does the same). He loves Harry's modesty, which is really low self-esteem, not modesty. Harry's low self-worth is like the ultimate humbleness in Dumbledore's eyes because he doesn't see it for what it is and he was never humble in his life, so he doesn't really know where the balance between confidence and arrogance is or the line between modesty and low self-worth. I think he honestly doesn't know because he is exceptionally arrogant.

Dumbledore created this image of ineffability around him and it's clear Harry is one of the only people (besides Dumbledore and Aberforth) who knows Dumbledore can make a mistake and he keeps reminding Hermione, Lupin, and literally everyone else of that fact:

“People have said it, many times. It comes down to whether or not you trust Dumbledore’s judgment. I do; therefore, I trust Severus.” “But Dumbledore can make mistakes,” argued Harry. “He says it himself. And you” — he looked Lupin straight in the eye — “do you honestly like Snape?”

(HBP)

This is all another case of Dumbledore being incapable of practicing what he preaches. He values modesty, but he doesn't seem to be capable of it.

Now, I'm not saying he isn't clever or special, he is. But he is the type of really smart person who looks down on anyone they don't see as intelligent as them. He doesn't see most people as equal to him.

Dumbledore doesn't see most of the Order or Aberforth as his equals. He never did. Elphias Doge kisses his ass, but Dumbledore clearly doesn't share the same level of respect for him. Or for most people, really.

“Elphias Doge mentioned her to us,” said Harry, trying to spare Hermione. “That old berk,” muttered Aberforth, taking another swig of mead. “Thought the sun shone out of my brother’s every office, he did. Well, so did plenty of people, you three included, by the looks of it.” Harry kept quiet. He did not want to express the doubts and uncertainties about Dumbledore that had riddled him for months now. [...] “Grindelwald. And at last, my brother had an equal to talk to someone just as bright and talented as he was. And looking after Ariana took a backseat then, while they were hatching all their plans for a new Wizarding order and looking for Hallows, and whatever else it was they were so interested in.

(DH)

Dumbledore doesn't trust the majority of the Order with anything because he doesn't think they'd be capable of handling it because they're not him. He literally tells them nothing until he has to, keeping them busy guarding a prophecy he knows can't be stolen by a run-of-the-mill Death Eater. He only tells Harry about the Horcruxes because he has no choice but to tell him. Same with Snape — Dumbledore trusts him out of necessity.

Snape and Grindelwald are the only people we see Dumbledore show respect towards their abilities, wisdom, and magic in some capacity.

Like, he calls Sirius clever, but he talks about him as foolish in the same breath. He calls McGonagall wise, but he clearly doesn't think she's wise enough to be told anything or trusted with anything. And while he does speak highly of Harry's courage and humility and though Harry is insanely powerful and with the right training could beat Dumbledore, Dumbledore keeps putting him down when it comes to magical abilities/intelligence compared to himself:

“I’m not upset.” “Harry, you were never a good Occlumens — ”

(HBP) - even though Harry can and does get really good at it once he does it his way.

“I do not think you will count, Harry: You are underage and unqualified. Voldemort would never have expected a sixteen-year-old to reach this place: I think it unlikely that your powers will register compared to mine.”

(HBP)

I find this tendency of Dumbledore to be really interesting. He underestimates people constantly and thinks too highly of himself. and he is very honest about it to people's faces. He keeps talking about how Voldemort’s defenses on his Horcruxes are shit, and how Voldemort is foolish when the curse Voldemort left on the ring is literally killing him at that very moment:

“I do not think you will count, Harry: You are underage and unqualified. Voldemort would never have expected a sixteen-year-old to reach this place: I think it unlikely that your powers will register compared to mine.” These words did nothing to raise Harry’s morale; perhaps Dumbledore knew it, for he added, “Voldemort’s mistake, Harry, Voldemort’s mistake ... Age is foolish and forgetful when it underestimates youth. ... Now, you first this time, and be careful not to touch the water.”

(HBP)

Dumbledore thinking himself so clever, more clever than Voldemort, is what killed him. His arrogant insistence that he's the smartest man in the room killed him. He is undermining Voldemort for mistakes similar to the ones he makes regularly when interacting with Harry. And he's aware of that. He knows he's a hypocrite:

When I discovered it, after all those years, buried in the abandoned home of the Gaunts—the Hallow I had craved most of all, though in my youth I had wanted it for very different reasons—I lost my head, Harry. I quite forgot that it was now a Horcrux, that the ring was sure to carry a curse. I picked it up, and I put it on, and for a second I imagined that I was about to see Ariana, and my mother, and my father, and to tell them how very, very sorry I was . . . “I was such a fool, Harry. After all those years I had learned nothing. I was unworthy to unite the Deadly Hallows. I had proved it time and again, and here was the final proof.”

(DH) - Dumbledore's portrait

I think Dumbledore's self-awareness is why he wants to like Harry as much as he does. While I don't think Dumbledore knows Harry as well as he thinks he does, what Dumbledore does see is enough for him to imagine Harry in his head as this perfect, virtuous martyr that he wished all his life to portray himself as. He idealizes who he imagines Harry is without fully respecting Harry as his own person with his own abilities.

I just find it interesting that for a character who speaks so highly of humility, he doesn't seem to possess it, and that it ends up being the death of him.

[rose24207]

Prompt “we should not have split up” with mafia lando?

On your own

Summary: Kidnapped after a fight, you learn the hard way—leaving Lando after a fight was a mistake.

Genre: Mafia, dark

Mafia!Lando x reader

TW: Mafia, guns, kidnapping, shooting, fighting

A/N: I’m alive dw! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist pt.2

The air was thick with tension, the kind that seeped into your bones and made your skin prickle. The dimly lit warehouse smelled of damp concrete and motor oil, the faint flickering of a faulty overhead light casting eerie shadows across the space. Your wrists ached from the rough rope binding them behind your back, the sharp bite of the restraints cutting into your skin.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You and Lando had fought—again.

You had spent the past year at his side, not just as his lover but as his confidante, his equal in the world he ruled with an iron grip. But Lando had always been overprotective, always acting as if you were fragile, incapable of handling yourself. It had been a minor argument at first—about a meeting, about territory, about how you weren’t a liability. You had told him you could handle yourself, and in the heat of the moment, you made a reckless decision.

You left on your own.

And now you were paying the price.

The man across from you—Matteo Ricci, a rival boss Lando had crossed one too many times—grinned as he crouched in front of you. He was older, seasoned, with deep scars that ran down the side of his cheek, souvenirs from a life spent in violence.

"You should have stayed by Norris' side, cara," Matteo mused, rolling a knife between his fingers. "But I suppose this works just as well. He’ll come for you. He always does. And when he does…" He smirked. "He’ll be walking into a trap."

Your stomach twisted. You knew Lando would come. He wouldn’t stop until he found you, and that was exactly what Matteo was counting on.

The sound of a car screeching to a stop outside sent Matteo’s men scrambling. They pulled out their weapons, fingers tight on the triggers, as heavy boots thundered against the pavement.

Then, silence.

A deadly, suffocating silence.

You knew that silence.

And so did Matteo. His expression faltered for the first time, his hand tightening around the knife. “He’s here.”

The lights above flickered once. Then the warehouse was plunged into darkness.

A gunshot rang out. Then another.

Screams followed, cut off as quickly as they started. Bodies hit the ground with dull thuds, the unmistakable sound of a silencer making it clear that Lando had come prepared.

You swallowed, pulse pounding.

The next thing you knew, a hand was gripping your chin, forcing you to look up.

Lando.

His face was a storm of emotions—anger, relief, fury, love. His normally bright blue eyes were dark, almost black in the dim lighting, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought he might break his own teeth. Blood stained his knuckles, splattered across the crisp black suit he wore.

“You,” he seethed, his voice dangerously low, “should not have left.”

Before you could answer, his knife was out, slicing through the ropes around your wrists in one swift motion. As soon as you were free, he yanked you up, pressing your body against his. His grip was bruising, his breath hot against your temple.

"You could have died," he growled.

"But I didn't," you whispered.

His fingers dug into your waist. "Because I got here in time. Do you have any idea what I was thinking when I found out you were missing?"

A lump formed in your throat. "Lando—"

"No." He pulled back just enough to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "We should not have split up."

You exhaled shakily, feeling the weight of those words. He was right. You had been reckless, stubborn. And now?

Now, you understood.

"I'm sorry," you murmured.

His lips crashed against yours—desperate, angry, possessive. His hands gripped you like he was afraid you’d disappear, like he was grounding himself in the taste of you.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged. "You’re never leaving my side again."

It wasn't a request.

And for once, you didn’t argue.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris, @dr3wstarkey, @hurtblossom

[aamircoeur]

stop and stare ー Ken Sato rockstar au.

wherein someone in the crowd catches the eye of kenji sato, the lead guitarist and main vocalist of the band kaijus.

rakista kenji so real. sfw, one-shot. gn!reader, band!au. UNEDITED

edit: check out this art by @preatzells !! https://shorturl.at/kpMZd

the cheers started when each of the band members made their way up to the stage, but the volume of the screams only reached their climax when kenji sato made his way towards the center with his white electric guitar, a small wave directed to the crowd, and his million-dollar smile.

finally done prepping their instruments and themselves, their first song started with a beat from the drums, with the rhythm guitarist following its lead. kenji sato held the mic with one hand and his guitar with the other as he leaned in to the mic to sing.

ー "the mirror's image tells me its own time. but, i'm not finished, 'cause you're not by my side."

you had your hand up high, holding your phone while it recorded the band. you were a few rows behind the barricade, right at the middle, parallel to where kenji sato was singing.

ー "and as i arrived i thought i saw you leaving, carryin' your shoes,"

kenji was swinging his hips slowly as he sung and strummed his guitar, his rings reflecting the light of the spotlight that he was under. his eyes kept wandering within the crowd, looking at the row that was furthest from the stage before flicking his sight to the ones at front.

ー "decided that once again i was just dreamin' of bumpin' into you."

he took a step away from the mic before dropping his head low along with his torso for a headbang, before coming up to the mic, his rings scratching onto the windscreen.

ー "now it's three in the morning, and i'm try'na change your mind,"

you lowered your hand and stopped your phone from recording to stare at the way his fingers plucked at the strings of his guitar.

ー "left you multiple missed calls and to my message, you reply,"

it was as if kenji's body was in complete sync with the song that his band was playing; the way his chest rose and fell after and before every lyric that he sung, his hair, untamable, swaying and dropping to his face while he moved his head to the rythym.

ー ""why'd you only call me when you're high?""

you sung along.

ー ""hi, why'd you only call me when you're high?""

you were absolutely starstruck. working overtime at your job was definitely worth it just to afford vip tickets for your first concert now that you're in the middle of kaiju's crowd with kenji sato singing his heart out in front of you.

ー "somewhere darker, talkin' the same shite. i need a partner, well, are you out tonight? it's harder and harder to get you to listen, more i get through the gears."

you watched him, not caring of the pushes that the people beside you gave you out of their own excitedness. staring at him, the way he ran his hand through his hair for the nth time, and the way that his black-colored eyes ran it's way through the crowdー

ー "incapable of makin' alright decisions, and havin' bad ideas."

before it landed on you.

ー "now it's three in the mornin' and i'm try'na change your mind,"

your lips parted and your breath hitched at the eye contact. he was staring right at you.

ー "left you multiple missed calls and to my message you reply,"

his eyes quickly broke the contact, making you remember that you were actually allowed to breathe. you ran your hand through the side of your hair, tucking it behind your ear as an attempt to compose yourself.

ー ""why'd you only call me when you're high?""

without missing a beat, his eyes were on you again. flustered, you looked away to see the bassist smiling as they played, then your eyes were back to looking at him.

ー ""hi, why'd you only call me when you're high?""

to your surprise, his eyes were still on you. you felt as if there was a spotlight on you, too. everyone else, including the music that was playing, were nothing but background noise to you at the moment. kenji sato was looking at you.

taking a deep breath, you looked up at him and smiled, mouthing a simple "hello," to the vocalist.

you saw kenji sato smile from ear to ear before leaning into the microphone. "hello, baby."

[eddiegettingshot]

like ok sorry but can we cut eddie a little slack. he literally is trying. this is him trying. imagine the situation from his perspective: he fucked up and hurt chris and chris asked to leave so he let him go. it's been three months and the only thing his parents—who have driven into his head for literally his entire life that he is incapable of doing the right thing or making the right decisions—have shown him and told him is that chris is happy there. he has a life there. he's got all this good stuff going for him, stuff eddie didn't or couldn't give him (it's not like his dad was ever around to teach him to play chess). at least chris is answering his calls now, which is more than he got a couple months ago, so he gets to see in real time how settled chris has become. if you were in his position, and terrified of hurting your child again. would you tell your parents to fuck off. would you feel like you could ask your kid to come home. or do anything or say anything that could theoretically make your kid feel even a little bit guilty or worried or upset about his choice to leave because you hurt him. on a human level (and the level of a parent with very real trauma) he's in an impossible position!!! as far as he's concerned the self-punishment has been to stay away from chris altogether when he, as a father, needs his son. of course eddie doesn't want to move to el paso. but the sacrifice here isn't for chris's sake, it's for his own, and he's making it what little information and enormous obstacles (demon parents) he has. yes eddie is doing something objectively crazy. but it's quite literally the only thing he feels like he can do to allow himself. like. a crumb of happiness. be nice to himmmmmmm

[frozenmoonshine]

TR boys' unexpected/random red flags headcanon:

Just some crack and slander for the humor purposes. As always, don't take it too seriously, and have fun with it at least half as much as I did writing it!

Since I obviously need to spell this out for some of you, even though it's literally in the title of the post - these are the red flags you wouldn't normally expect from them! That's the whole point of them being unexpected. So don't go telling me how I missed the mark with some characters, or how their red flags are something else. Yeah, we all know the obvious ones, but why would I state the obvious?!

TW: F!reader; implied mysogyny; mentions of DV, cheating, and general toxic behavior.

🚩Mikey - proposes on the second date.

🚩Draken - never talks about himself whatsoever. Even when you directly ask him to open up about what's troubling him, he's still difficult and avoids conversation.

🚩Baji - mama's boy. At first, it looks sweet, how he cares about and respects his mother, but soon you realize that he is dependant on her, and cannot make any decisions bigger than what to eat on his own, without "consulting with his mom". Silver lining is that Ryouko is an amazing, lovely woman, but you don't exactly want to date both the mother and the son at the same time, do you?

🚩Chifuyu - overromanticizes everything, then gets mad at you if things don't turn out irl the same they were in his imagination.

🚩Mitsuya - really damn cheap. Like, ok, I know you grew up poor, but going out once a month won't bankrupt you! (You're not even asking him to pay for you or anything like that, but he just refuses to step even one milimeter out of his frugal ways!)

🚩Hakkai - aside from the obvious red flag (you get a package deal of Yuzuha and Mitsuya as well, if you are dating Hakkai), he can also be incredibly self-absorbed and condescending sometimes, thinking he's so much better than you, etc.

🚩Pah-chin & 🚩Peh-yan - putting them together cause they have the same red flag - if you date one of them, the other one will third wheel all of your dates, no exeptions. Might as well just go poly and date them both at this point!

🚩Smiley - refers to women as "females".

🚩Angry - doesn't let you do anything on your own/overprotective. Look, Souya, it's nice that you're being a gentleman, but do you really think I'm incapable of getting a glass of water for myself?! His behaviour can be incredibly stifling and suffocating.

🚩Mucho - won't ever let you pick a date spot cause he's convinced he knows the best. You always end up doing what he wants for dates, or you don't go on a date at all.

🚩Haruchiyo - yeah, sure, he's got more red flags than China, but the not so expected one is that he's incredibly fussy and naggy about the smallest of things. "That's not how you put the trash bag in the can!" "You folded the laundry wrong! Look how I do it!" "Wipe the counter with this, not that!" "Don't leave your hair everywhere! I don't wanna live with a cat!" And so on and so forth, it feels like you are living with your parent(s) all over again!

🚩Hanma - another one with enough red flags to call it a carnival, sure, but the one that catches you off guard is just how jealous and possessive he is. "Where are you going?" "Why is your dress so short?" "You can't go out with male company wearing your tits out!" "Why are you hiding your phone?" "Who's that?" and so on and so forth, you get the idea.

🚩Kazutora - yet another walking red flag in a row (at least his unhealed self), but even as an adult (healed) he still retains that aggression from his teens and gets into random street/bar fights semi-regularly. Him coming back home bloody and bruised is not a rare occurrence at all.

🚩Kisaki - cheats. No idea how he manages to, provided that he looks like... well, that, but he still does.

🚩Taiju - a religious freak prone to domestic violence... what more red flags can you even ask for? None, indeed. But what you don't expect on top of all that is his complete lack of manners and just how loud and embarrassing he can be in public.

🚩Inupi - rude to the waitstaff.

🚩Koko - never got over his ex, stuck on her forever, and cannot ever be fully present in his current relationship. Compares you to his ex all the time, every other person he dated after her was just an unsuccessful rebound.

🚩Izana - does he even have any green ones? Likely not. But what you wouldn't exactly expect from him right away, given all the other red flags that come into front upon the first contact - is that he's a bad mansplainer. "You probably don't know how the betta fish do this thing where..." - Izana, I'm literally a marine biologist.

🚩Kakuchou - breaks up with you over the smallest things. He missed your call cause he didn't hear his phone ring while in the traffic? - He's not good enough for you and you two should break up. He was late 5 minutes to your date because Izana needed his help with something? - He's lowkey ready to commit seppuku, and of course, dramatically breaks up with you. It's tiring, honestly.

🚩Ran - gaslighter and manipulator par exellence! Undiagnozed NPD, but the symptoms are everywhere.

🚩Rindou - loves the gym more than you. Obsessed with working out and body building, won't eat normal food, spends all time in front of the mirror flexing and "checking his gains". Will either try to "get you into fitness" (force you to act the same way he does) or constantly tell you that you "don't understand" just how important it is to him. Is your 10th workout this week really more important than our anniversary, tho, Rindou?

🚩Mocchi - manspreads all the time, and manspreads badly. He's also that type that won't move away from the sidewalk if a woman is coming the opposite way.

🚩Madarame - probably not unexpected, but he's the biggest, worst incel of all. Lives in the manosphere and inhales the alpha bro bullshit podcasts.

🚩South - judges and publicly makes fun of your music taste. It doesn't matter what you listen to, unless it's 101% exactly the same as his taste, he'll be a real bitch about it. Of course, don't even dream about getting a hold of the aux cord!

🚩Shinichiro - doesn't shower regularly. Idk Shin, maybe your lack of personal hygiene was the reason for all those rejections so far? Just some food for thought...

🚩Takeomi - yet another one that's redder than the red army, but what you don't expect is how much he infantilizes you, especially if you are younger than him! Even if it's just one year age difference between you, he'll act all patronizing and constantly emphasise his "rich life experience" and tell you how "you don't understand some things because you are (too) young".

🚩Wakasa - secretly insecure about his height and gets super jealous if he sees you talking to a tall guy. Doesn't even matter if it's your blood relative or a random stranger asking directions in the street - Waka isn't having any of that. He'll sulk and jab at you for the whole day, never saying what the actual problem is.

🚩Benkei - Cannot find/keep a proper job to save his life! Got into some kind of beef with every single potential employer, so he's doomed to working at the gym for the rest of his days.

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Tw: little bit of angst (fluff is always there, I don't even write it in the tw anymore)

Series masterlist

3 years earlier

Your apartment felt suffocating. You stood by the kitchen counter, staring at the sink, trying to breathe through the frustration that had been building for probably months. Jason was pacing in the living room, the sound of his feet on the hardwood floor sharp against the silence.

"Why is this always so difficult with you?" His voice was rising, the anger behind it unmistakable. "I try to talk to you, to explain how I feel, but it’s like I’m speaking to a wall. You don’t listen."

You turned, your patience wearing thin. "I am listening, Jason. But you can’t just lash out every time things don’t go your way. It doesn’t work like that."

Jason’s face twisted in disbelief. "You think I’m the one causing problems? You think I’m just making this up?" He threw his hands up, exasperated. "You don’t even seem to care when something’s wrong. You shut down every time I try to talk to you about it!"

You let out a slow breath, trying to hold on to the last shreds of calm you had left. "That’s not true. I care. But you’re trying to control everything. You are trying to control me, and it’s exhausting. Every time we have a disagreement, you make it feel like it’s my fault, like I’m the one who’s doing everything wrong."

Jason scoffed, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Oh, so now I’m controlling? That’s rich. I try to make things work, I try to talk to you, but all you do is shut me out."

"Don’t act like this is just about us not communicating," you snapped, your voice shaking with frustration. "It’s not just one thing, Jason. It’s everything. The way you treat me like I’m supposed to be available on your terms, the way you talk down to me like I’m incapable of making my own decisions. You’re always making everything about you and your needs, but you never ask how I feel about anything."

Jason’s eyes darkened, but you saw something else there too—fear. Maybe he wasn’t ready to face what he was losing, but you had already made up your mind. "You’re overreacting," he muttered, taking a step toward you, but you didn’t back away.

"No, Jason. I’m done," you said, your voice more firm than you felt. "This isn’t working anymore. I can’t keep doing this. I don’t want to keep doing this."

Jason froze, his brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? You don’t mean that. I love you. I need you."

Your chest tightened at the words,. "We shouldn't feel the love so painfully. I shouldn’t. You don’t love me, Jason. This isn’t love," you said. "Love isn’t trying to control someone, love isn’t belittling them every chance you get, love isn’t making them feel small. You don’t get to hide behind 'I love you' and make it okay."

His face twisted in disbelief, like he was trying to comprehend what you were saying. "You’re throwing all of that away? After everything?"

You shook your head slowly, the tears you’d been holding back threatening to break free. But you didn’t let them. Not now. "I’m choosing myself, Jason. I can’t keep letting you walk all over me and thinking it’s okay. I’m done with this and I am truly sorry things didn't go in a different way, trust me."

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at you like he couldn’t believe what was happening. His eyes flicked to the door and back to you, his lips parted like he was about to say something, but the words didn’t come.

"Just go," you said, your voice barely a whisper but stronger than it had been in weeks. "Please. I need you to leave."

Jason hesitated, his fists clenched at his sides. "You’re making a huge mistake," he muttered, his voice low and strained. "You can’t just throw this all away. You’ll regret it."

You shook your head. "No. I won’t. I’m not doing this anymore."

He stood there for a long moment, and then, with a final glance at you, he turned toward the door. It clicked open, and then shut.

The sound echoed in the silence of your apartment, and for a moment, you just stood there, your back pressed against the door, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You told yourself you had made the right decision, that you had done what was best for you. And yet, as the seconds ticked by, something inside you twisted.

The tears came in slow waves at first, and then, like a dam breaking, they poured out. You didn’t try to stop them. You didn’t even know how to. You sank to the floor, knees pulled to your chest, burying your face in your arms as the sobs wracked your body.

You had told him to leave. You had closed the door on him. You had made the decision to walk away from a relationship that has never been healthy.

And still, your heart ached like it had been ripped out of your chest. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself that you were done, that you were stronger than this, your heart betrayed you. You had loved him. You loved him.

And as much as you tried to convince yourself that the way he treated you—his lack of respect, his jealousy, his need to control everything—had been enough to make you forget the love you once shared, your heart couldn’t let go.

You loved him. Even if you didn't want to.

One week after he stepped out of your house, you got the news that he left the city to open his shop somewhere else. And you haven't heard from him since.

Now

You were still staring out the window, frozen, as the realization hit you like a punch to the gut.

Jason’s Ink Studio.

The name was loud and clear in your mind, a flashback to everything you had worked so hard to leave behind. You hadn’t expected this, not today, not now. You never thought he could get back in town, and yet, here he was.

Your gaze fixed on him before your mind could even catch up with the shock in your chest. He was standing on the other side of the road, talking to someone, his face in profile as he lifted a package—large, wrapped in brown paper.

His hair, lighter now than it had been back then, was short but messy, like he’d run his fingers through the light brown locks and forgotten to smooth it down. The buzz cut he once wore was gone, replaced with something more grown-up, but still familiar.

He was wearing a simple black sweater with the sleeves rolled up, revealing the tattoos that snake around his forearms, ink you remember well. His skin is still a bit tanned, like it always was.

His eyes, those blue-grey eyes that had always caught the light in that almost magnetic way, were hidden from now, but you knew they were shining under the morning light.

You didn’t want to look, but you couldn’t help it. As he turned, walking toward the door, his eyes flicked up, right toward the window where you were standing. For a split second, you could have sworn his gaze landed on you.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t move.

You weren’t sure if he’d actually seen you, or if you were just imagining it. But in that moment, everything around you seemed to stop. You held your breath. You didn’t want to react. You didn’t want to acknowledge him, not in this place, not now. You were happy with Noah. You didn't want to see him everyday in front of your workplace.

For a moment you both stood there, and then, just like that, he disappeared through the door of his own shop.

You exhaled slowly, the air feeling thick in your lungs. Your palms were suddenly clammy, and you found yourself gripping the counter for stability. He was here. Of course he was. Back there like nothing had changed. But so much had changed. You had changed.

You stared at the door he had just walked through, a sense of unease twisting in your stomach, still trying to wrap your head around the sight of Jason standing outside. It had been years, but seeing him again—especially in front of your café—stirred up a mess of old memories. Why the hell was he back?

Noah’s voice suddenly cut through your thoughts. “Hey, you okay?”

You blinked, snapping back to reality. "Yeah. I'm fine," you muttered, brushing off the question. But before you could add anything else, Grace, leaning over the counter, caught sight of what was going on on the other side of the window.

"Oh well—look who’s back."

You stiffened. Noah looked over, clearly confused. “Who?”

You let out a sharp exhale. “You remember when I told you about my ex?”

Noah raised an eyebrow. "The tattoo artist who treated you like shit and left the town to chase a bigger paycheck?"

“Yeah.”

Grace, without missing a beat, pointed at the window. “Him. Right there.”

Noah turned, following her finger, and the look on his face shifted. His eyes narrowed, “Of course he’s back.” He muttered.

You felt your stomach tighten. “I don't know why he's here. But I don't fucking want him here. Not in front of my café."

Grace, clearly enjoying the situation a bit too much, leaned in with a smirk. “I wonder if he already knows about your ‘charming’ new... rockstar boyfriend with pink nailpolish here?”

Noah shifted on his feet, his expression tightening ever so slightly. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Grace shrugged, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering if the guy’s gonna get jealous seeing you’ve moved on... to someone else.”

You felt the heat rise to your face, and before you could respond, Noah cleared his throat. His voice, though calm, had an edge to it. “Yeah, well, that’s none of his business.”

The casualness of his tone didn’t escape you, but there was something else—something in the way he said it that made you wonder if he was a little too quick to defend you. Or maybe he was just annoyed by the whole situation, too.

Grace watched the two of you, clearly entertained. "Oh, I get it now. High-school reunion vibes, huh? A bit embarassing and awkward?"

You shot her a glare. "Don’t even joke about that."

Noah’s posture had shifted. He was still looking at the window, but the way he stood now had more tension in it. “If he thinks he can just show up and start making trouble, I’ll deal with it,” he said, the words sounding like more of a promise than a suggestion.

You blinked at him, taken aback by the sudden protective tone in his voice. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate it—but why was he getting so worked up?

“I don’t need you to deal with it,” you said quickly. “I can handle it myself, don't worry.”

Grace leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, I’m sure you can. But... still, if he tries anything, I’m pretty sure he’ll wish he hadn’t.” She finished the sentence looking at Noah.

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the tension building between you and Noah. You could feel his eyes on you, but you weren’t sure if it was out of concern or something else entirely. Was he already jealous? Without even seeing Jason yet?

“He’s not gonna try anything,” you said, trying to reassure both you and Noah. “I’m done with him. For good. It's almost been four fucking years. I moved on. He probably did that too. Maybe he moved back with... I don't know, his wife? Who knows.”

Noah just nodded, staying silent. You knew his mind was full of thoughts but that wasn't the right moment to talk about them.

You stared at the window again, watching your ex as he spoke to someone outside, completely unaware of the tension building inside the café. The knot in your stomach only tightened.

You kept working after Noah left to work on something with the band.

The café was busy and you used that as a distraction from the knot of anxiety in your stomach. You couldn’t shake the image of Jason standing outside.

You busied yourself behind the counter as you made drinks and refilled pastries, trying not to look up at the window every few minutes. But every time the door opened, your heart jumped, and you couldn’t help but glance over.

A couple walked in, laughing together. The man’s grin reminded you too much of Jason’s—slightly crooked, genuine, and a little too familiar. For a split second, your heart skipped, and you felt the familiar ache in your chest. But as they made their way to the counter, you saw it wasn’t him. You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

"Can I help you?" you asked, your voice a little shaky as you forced a smile.

The man ordered a cappuccino, and you moved through the motions, trying to push the thought of Jason from your mind. But every time the door opened, you couldn’t stop your heart from skipping. You looked, always half-expecting him to walk through.

The bell above the door chimed again.

The man entering had brown short hair, his face half-obscured by the collar of his jacket, but for a moment, your mind screamed, It’s him.

You froze, watching as he approached the counter, but when he turned his face toward you, your stomach sank. It wasn’t Jason. Just another stranger.

You forced yourself to breathe, to smile. To get it together. You couldn’t keep reacting like this.

Minutes passed. Then another hour. The tension in your chest never quite eased, but you managed to focus on the customers, the tasks at hand, your routine.

Jason wasn’t coming in. He couldn’t be.

And as the day wore on, and the sun began to set, you didn’t see him again, not even outside the window.

You kept working, moving through the motions. But the truth was, the sense of unease wouldn’t leave. Every time you heard the door, part of you braced for the possibility that it was him. The man who had once been everything, but now felt like a stranger.

But he didn’t come. Not today.

Noah was sprawled on the couch in the band's living room, casually scrolling through his phone while Ruffilo sat across from him. The quiet hum of the house felt comfortable, but Noah’s mind was clearly elsewhere.

Finally, after a few minutes of silence, Noah set his phone down with a frustrated sigh.

“What's wrong, man?” Nick asked casually.

Noah ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just... Y/N’s ex is back in town,” he said, his tone less than enthusiastic. “And he opened up a tattoo shop right across from her café.”

Nick’s eyebrows shot up. "Wait, that guy? The tattoo artist?"

“Yeah,” Noah confirmed, leaning back against the couch. “Jason. He’s been gone for a while, but now he’s back. And of course, right across from where Y/n works.”

Nick nodded thoughtfully. "That’s... uh, that's gotta be awkward."

Noah rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, it’s not great. And I can’t help but feel like something’s going to happen. It just doesn’t feel good."

Nick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I get it, man. But, you don’t have to worry about that. Y/N’s with you now, and she’s moved on. She’s not gonna let some guy from her past mess things up.”

Noah hesitated. "I know. But... I don’t know, man. I can’t shake this feeling. Ever since I got involved with Y/N I’ve been scared of losing her. I’ve always been scared of it, after... well, after everything that happened with Hannah." He took a deep breath and looked at Nick, his expression more vulnerable than usual. “But now... with Jason back in the picture, I feel it more than ever. I don’t know what’s gonna happen, and it scares the shit out of me.”

Nick studied him for a moment, then leaned back into his seat, shaking his head slightly. "You’re doing it again," he said, his voice calm but firm. "You’re thinking about things that haven’t even happened yet. I get that you're worried, but listen, you don’t have to keep carrying that fear around."

"I know I sound like a broken record,” Noah said, rubbing his face with his hands. "I just... I love her, man. I don’t want anything to mess that up."

Nick’s tone softened. “I get it. I do. But you don’t have to be scared of losing her. You’ve got a solid thing going. Y/N chose you. And she’s with you now. Jason’s part of her past, and that’s where he’s gonna stay. She’s moved on."

Noah let out a long breath. "I know. But it’s still hard not to worry, you know?"

Nick gave him a small smile. "Yeah, I get it. But trust me, man. You’re enough. You don’t have to live in fear of something that might never even happen. You’re already doing everything right."

Noah nodded slowly. “Thanks, man. I needed that.” He stood up, stretching. “I should go pick up Luna. She’s probably starving by now.”

Nick chuckled, standing up with him. "Good idea. But hey, remember, if you need to talk, you know where I am."

Noah smiled. "Appreciate it."

With a final wave, Noah walked out the door.

Things would work out, he hoped. But he still couldn’t shake the weight of his own worries.

He didn't want to get hurt again.

When Noah stepped into the daycare, his eyes quickly found Luna sitting at a small table in the corner, her little brow furrowed in concentration as she worked on something with a pile of crayons scattered in front of her. She caught sight of him immediately and waved enthusiastically.

"Daddy!" she squealed, bouncing out of her seat.

Noah grinned, walking over to scoop her up in his arms. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Ready to go home?"

Luna nodded excitedly, but before Noah could move, Ms. Harper, one of the teachers, approached with a warm smile.

"Noah, do you have a second?" she asked. "We had a little project today, and I wanted to show you something."

Noah glanced at Luna, who ran off to rejoin a friend in a nearby play area.

"Of course," he replied, following Ms. Harper to the small corner of the room as she handed Noah a folded piece of paper.

"We had the kids draw pictures of their families,” she explained as Noah opened the paper carefully. “Luna was really proud of hers, and we wanted to make sure you saw it."

The paper was an explosion of color, with vibrant swirls of pink, blue, yellow, and green. In the sky, there was not a sun (like it usually was in kids' drawings) but a moon.

The clouds were big and puffy and a small house stood in the middle of the page.

Noah’s heart warmed as he looked at the three main figures in the foreground. One was small, the other two larger. The shapes were simple—a circle for each head, a few lines for arms and legs, but they were immediately recognizable. A man, a woman, and a smaller figure.

"That’s us, isn’t it?" Noah asked, looking up from the drawing to meet Ms. Harper’s eyes. His voice was soft, filled with warmth.

The teacher smiled and nodded. "Yep, Luna said it was ‘Daddy and Y/N.’ She was so proud of it."

Noah’s heart swelled as he looked back down at the drawing. The way Luna included you made him smile. "I love it," he murmured.

As he admired the picture, his eyes wandered to the background. He noticed several small shapes scattered on the horizon, almost like trees but not quite. They looked out of place compared to the other elements in the drawing, and his curiosity piqued.

"What are those?" he asked, pointing at the figures.

Ms. Harper chuckled softly. “She said those are her uncles,” she explained.

Noah’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, a laugh escaping him. "Her uncles?"

"Yes," she replied, grinning. "She said they’re the uncles who love her."

Noah couldn’t help but laugh too, a warm, genuine smile spreading across his face. "Well, I'll tell them Luna included them in the family," he said, shaking his head with amusement. "This is perfect."

Luna, who had been playing with her friend, returned to him just as he was carefully folding the drawing.

"Dad" she asked eagerly, "did you see my picture? What do you think?"

Noah beamed down at her. "I love it, Luna. I think it’s the best drawing ever." He picked her up with one arm and kissed the top of her head. "You’ve made me so happy with this."

Luna’s face lit up, her grin stretching wide across her face. She hugged him tightly, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck. "I’m glad you like it!"

The teacher gave them one last smile before stepping away.

"Alright, Lu," Noah said, shifting Luna slightly in his arms, "let’s go home."

The soft glow from the TV illuminated the dim room as you and Noah lay on his bed, wrapped up in the warmth of his blankets as Luna was already sleeping in her bedroom.

The gentle hum of some anime playing in the background was more of a comfort than entertainment at this point. You were curled up beside him, your head resting on his chest, the familiar weight of his arm draped over you. His hand idly brushed through your hair as you watched the fight happening on the screen, though you noticed he wasn’t quite as engaged as usual.

You shifted slightly, glancing up at him. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, unfocused, almost as if his mind had wandered far away from the bright colors on the TV. You could feel the subtle tension in his muscles, the quiet distance that had come over him.

"Hey," you murmured, your voice soft but steady. "Mrs. Linn asked to come see her sometime, yesterday. We talked a bit when I was about to get into my car to go back home. I forgot to tell you. She seemed such a sweet lady." You smiled, hoping to bring his attention back to the moment, but his gaze didn’t move from the ceiling.

Noah’s lips tugged up slightly, but it was more of a reflex than a genuine response. "Yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve seen her," he said absently. “Maybe we could all go sometime, say hi." His tone didn’t carry the usual warmth, though. His mind was still clearly elsewhere.

You frowned, now fully aware of the shift in his mood. You grabbed the remote and paused the anime, the room suddenly feeling quieter, even more intimate with the absence of noise.

"Is it about Jason?" you asked softly, almost afraid of what his reaction might be.

Noah didn’t look at you, but his head gave the smallest nod, confirming what you already suspected. His jaw tightened, and you could tell his thoughts were running in circles, probably replaying some old memories.

You let out a quiet sigh, lifting your hand to gently trace his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin. "You don’t have to worry, Noah," you said. "I love you. I love Luna. I love the life we’re building together. He’s a ghost from the past, and that’s all he’s ever going to be now." You pressed a soft kiss to his naked chest, hoping the words would reach him, would soothe all his worries.

For a long moment, Noah didn’t respond, but then he shifted, turning to face you. His eyes were soft but looked tired. "I know," he said quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "It’s just... when I realized he was back earlier, I don’t know... it just stirred up a lot of shit that is still there. You are important to me. I don't wanna lose you."

You smiled gently, sliding your hand to his face and cupping it tenderly, your fingers brushing his stubbled cheek. "You’re allowed to feel however you feel. And if you wanna talk about anything, I'm here." you whispered. "But don't think I'm gonna leave you. I’m right here. I'll be here until the day you'll tell me to go away." You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

And as if in response, his lips curved into a smile, a soft, real smile. You moved away slightly, your gaze meeting his.

"There it is," you teased, pressing more kisses to his face, his cheeks, his nose. His eyes closed, and he chuckled, the sound warm and genuine.

"Finally," you grinned. "I didn’t hear you laugh since this morning. I was starting to worry."

Noah’s laughter filled the quiet space between you two, and you thought, in that moment, that everything would be okay.

Even if Jason was back in town, he was still part of your past and that's where he was supposed to stay.

🍪 a cookie for you if you caught the little bmth reference

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