#and falling in love with him and getting to see him maturing

[woozinhos]

also... seungcheol make up sex.. because i can really see it he's taking out his frustration at you

You storm into the bedroom, your face flushed with anger. You can't believe the fight you just had with Seungcheol - it had been so stupid and pointless, and now you're both seething with frustration. Seungcheol follows you into the room, his jaw clenched tight with anger. "You can't just walk away like that," he snaps, his eyes blazing.

You spin around to face him, your hands clenched into fists. "And what do you expect me to do, huh? Just stand there and listen to you yell at me?"

Seungcheol takes a step closer, his eyes narrowing. "I expect you to be mature about this and have a conversation like an adult," he says, his voice low and dangerous.

You roll your eyes, feeling your anger flare up again. "Oh, because you're the epitome of maturity right now, aren't you?" you retort sarcastically.

Seungcheol's face twists in anger, and he takes another step closer, invading your personal space. "Don't talk to me like that," he growls, his voice a warning.

You stand your ground, refusing to back down. "Why not? You're treating me like a child," you say, your voice rising.

Seungcheol's eyes flash with irritation, and he reaches out to grab your arm. "You're acting like one," he snaps, his grip tight on your wrist.

Your heart is racing, and you can feel your anger giving way to something else - desire. Despite your anger, you can't deny the effect Seungcheol's dominance is having on you. You try to pull away from Seungcheol's grip, but he holds on tight, his fingers digging into your skin. "Let go of me," you snap, your voice shaking with anger and desire.

Seungcheol ignores you, his eyes raking over your body. "No," he says simply, his gaze lingering on your lips.

You can feel your breath catch in your throat as he steps closer, his body pressed against yours. You're so angry with him, but at the same time, you can't help but be drawn to him.

"You're such a pain in the ass," you mutter, trying to ignore the way your body is responding to his proximity.

Seungcheol smirks, his hand sliding down your arm to grip your waist. "And you love it," he says, his voice low and husky.

You try to protest, but the words die on your lips as Seungcheol pulls you closer, his body flush against yours. You can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady against your chest.

"Admit it," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "You love fighting with me, because it gets you all hot and bothered."

You shiver at his words, your anger slowly giving way to desire. "Shut up," you mutter, but there's no real conviction in your voice.

Seungcheol chuckles, his hands roaming over your body. "You know I'm right," he says, his lips brushing against your neck. "You love the way I take control, even when we're fighting."

You can't take it anymore. The tension between you and Seungcheol is too much, and you need an outlet for it. You surge forward, crushing your lips against his in a bruising kiss. Seungcheol responds immediately, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close. He kisses you hungrily, his lips devouring yours as he pushes you back towards the bed. You stumble backwards, your legs hitting the edge of the bed. You fall back onto the mattress, pulling Seungcheol down with you.

He lands on top of you, his body pinning you down as he deepens the kiss. His hands roam over your body, desperate and possessive. You can feel the anger and desire coursing through your veins as you kiss Seungcheol with a fierce intensity. Your hands fumble with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

Seungcheol's hands are just as frantic, his fingers tearing at your clothes as he tries to undress you. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck and chest as he helps you out of your shirt. You arch into his touch, moaning softly as his hands roam over your bare skin. You can feel his erection pressing against you, hard and insistent.

"You drive me crazy," Seungcheol growls, his lips finding your collarbone and biting down gently.

The room is filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and soft moans as you continue to make out with Seungcheol. The air is thick with tension and desire, and all communication between you is reduced to heated glances and urgent touches.

Seungcheol's hands roam over your body, exploring every inch of you as if he's trying to memorize every curve and contour. He kisses you like he's starving, his lips claiming yours over and over again. You arch against him, your body craving more. You can feel the anger from earlier melting away, replaced by a burning need for him. Seungcheol breaks the kiss again, his lips trailing down your body as he begins to leave a trail of hot kisses down your stomach.

As Seungcheol flips you onto your hands and knees, you can feel your heart racing with anticipation. You're already aching for him, your body trembling with need. He runs his hands over your back, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "You look so good like this," he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

You can feel his eyes on you, taking in the sight of your body spread out before him. He runs his hands over your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he positions himself behind you. Seungcheol enters you in one swift motion, filling you completely. You cry out at the sudden intrusion, your fingers digging into the sheets as you try to hold yourself steady. He doesn't give you any time to adjust, his hips snapping against yours as he begins to move. He sets a punishing pace, his thrusts hard and fast as he claims you from behind.

You can feel your body responding to him, every nerve ending on fire as he drives into you relentlessly. The anger and tension from earlier is gone, replaced by a primal need for each other. Seungcheol's grunts and groans mix with your moans, filling the room with the sounds of your passion. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he continues to slam into you from behind.

"You feel so good," he growls, his voice thick with desire. "So tight and wet for me."

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling with the intensity of the sensations. You arch your back, pushing back against him as you try to take him deeper.

"More," you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need more."

Seungcheol pulls your hair back into a ponytail, gathering it in his fist and using it as leverage to pull your head back. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and you can feel your arousal spiking even higher. He uses his grip on your hair to control your movements, pulling you back onto his cock as he thrusts into you from behind.

"Is this what you wanted?" he growls, his voice rough with desire. "You wanted me to take control, to use you however I want?"

"Yes," you manage to gasp out, your voice laced with anger and arousal. "Use me. Take me. Make me yours."

Seungcheol smirks, his grip on your hair tightening as he continues to thrust into you. "You're mine," he growls, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "And I'll do whatever I want with you."

Seungcheol pulls you up, his chest pressed against your back as he wraps an arm around your waist. He holds you close, his hand splayed across your stomach as he continues to thrust into you.

"Say it again," he growls in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you gasp out, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm all yours."

Seungcheol's grip on you tightens, his arm holding you flush against him as he thrusts harder and faster. "Damn right you are," he growls, his lips brushing against your ear. "You belong to me. No one else can have you."

Seungcheal pushes you down onto the bed, pinning you beneath him as he continues to thrust into you with a ferocious intensity. His movements are fast and rough, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body tensing as you approach your climax. You arch your back, trying to meet his thrusts as you gasp for breath.

"I'm gonna come," you gasp out, your fingers digging into the sheets as you try to hold on. "Please, Seungcheol..."

Seungcheol leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Come for me," he growls, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "Come on my cock, baby."

His words are all it takes to push you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your body shuddering with the force of it as you cry out his name. Seungcheol follows you soon after, his own orgasm tearing through him as he spills himself inside you. He collapses on top of you, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his release. You lie there, panting and trembling as you come down from your high. Seungcheol is still on top of you, his body heavy and warm against yours.

He presses a kiss to the back of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Damn," he mutters, his voice still a little shaky. "That was...intense."

You nod in agreement, still trying to catch your breath. Your body is still buzzing with pleasure, your mind hazy from the intensity of your orgasm. Seungcheol rolls off of you, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. He kisses your forehead gently, his touch a stark contrast to the rough way he had been handling you earlier.

"I'm sorry for fighting with you," he says softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin. "I didn't mean any of the things I said."

You look up at him, your eyes still hazy with pleasure. "I know," you say, your voice soft. "I'm sorry too. I didn't mean what I said either."

Seungcheol pulls you closer, holding you tight against his chest. "We really need to work on our communication," he says, his lips quirking up in a small smile.

[umamaki]

FALSE GOD ! caleb x reader

CONTAINS l&ds caleb, female reader, hurt/comfort, explicit smut, pwp, size kink if squint, caleb gloves mentioned, car sex, gendered pet names, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie, edging, brief inappropriate use of evol, language, possessiveness, make up sex yay, lmk what i miss. WC 1.4k

NOTE i had an itch and i scratched it… 

“There’s my girl.” 

The roof of the parking lot is supposed to be empty. Your car is the only one parked and you certainly hadn’t heard another pair of footsteps accompanying yours just now. 

You don’t allow yourself a chance to be startled by the familiar voice cutting through the night’s silence as the revolver once snug in your waistband is aimed at their throat. 

Nothing—nothing could’ve prepared you for who was at the other end. There did not exist a single universe where you would’ve been able to correctly guess, unless it’s one where dead men come back alive.

“Caleb?” It was barely a whisper, but the soft wind carried your voice to his ears. You falter and step back. The gun still points at him but it’s your arms that only slightly weaken. 

“So it really is you,” he looks different, matured. He’s grown taller and gained weight. There’s a mix of desperation and relief in the way he looks at you, “you haven’t changed a bit, Love.”

There’s a hint of a tease in his tone, but he doesn’t mean it. He watches you with bated breath, gauging your reaction. 

You finally snap out of it.

“What the fuck, Caleb? I thought you died!” Anger overcomes your initial shock. Betrayal, too. You raise the gun back at his throat, your grip on it tightening. 

“And here I thought you’d be happier to see me.”

“I don’t know where the hell you’ve been. But you know, you really had me fucking convinced.”

“Don’t be so naive. I did what I had to do.” 

“Like what, lie? To me? That’s bullshit and you know it.” His face gets blurry with every tear that begins to cloud your vision. You hastily blink them away, just to see him in clarity again. “You were my best friend.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He steps forward. He uses one hand to lower your gun away from his body, and the other to wipe the tears flowing down your cheek. He bows down to where his face is level with yours, “so let me make it up to you.”

He finally embraces you. His face is buried into your shoulder and he holds you so tightly that you can hardly muster up enough breath to tell him to relax. He smells like home. 

“I missed you, you know. I missed you the whole time. You’re my girl, after all.” He looks you in the eyes and there’s earnest in every part of him, you don’t doubt it. 

“I thought I lost you,”

“I’m here now. Let me take care of you, make up for the time we lost, hm?”

He ghosts his lips up over yours but waits for your confirmation. You don’t hesitate to close the gap. He immediately devours your mouth with his, kissing you back with such fervor that you are firmly pressed against the side of your car. 

You think you feel drops of rain fall down on you, but Caleb is quick. He opens the your back door and positions you at the entrance. 

“And look what I can do now,” his hands settle on the top edge of the door and you’re not sure why that is, until you feel an invisible force thrust you to lay across the back seats. The top of your head brushes against his knuckles but it doesn’t hurt. 

The door is slammed shut and Caleb is immediately back on you, wasting no time in kissing and sucking a trail down from your jaw to your neck. 

“We probably shouldn’t.” He’d changed over the time he was gone, that part was true. He carried around an air of danger and sin. However you’d be lying if you said you weren’t just the least bit tempted by it. 

“Yeah? Says who? There’s no one else here but us.” You gasp when he nips your neck where your pulse is, soothing it with his tongue afterwards. “You’re a big girl now, aren’t you? Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

His hands circle your inner thigh. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing to you. You’re practically soaked through to your pants. You regret what you said and shake your head, taking it back. 

“What is it? Use your words baby,”

“Don’t stop. Please, Caleb, don’t stop.”

He parts from your neck and lowers himself to make out with your tits through your clothes. The pressure coming from him and the friction of your clothes rubbing against your sensitive nipples causes a moan of pleasure to escape from your lips. 

You kick off your shoes and he helps with pulling both your pants and underwear off with one fluid motion. He positions your thighs to rest atop each of his shoulders, sloppily kissing the inside of them. Your hands naturally find themselves grasping his hair. 

“This all for me?” He begins with a tentative lick to your clit, but it’s not enough. You pull him closer to your heat through his hair, all the confirmation he needs to fully make out with your pussy. 

“Ngh—Caleb…” You whimper his name in between moans. Your heels involuntarily dig into his back, hard, but still he doesn’t budge. He sucks on your clit and licks at your folds with the same intensity as before. 

“You taste good, baby. All mine.” He rises to kiss you, failing to neglect your lower half as his gloved fingers plunge themselves in your aching hole, thumb rubbing circles on your clit. 

The warmth inside you increases with each thrust of Caleb’s fingers. Your moans become louder and you become limp in his hold. You’re ready to reach your climax, so when he abruptly rips his fingers out of you, you can’t help but let out a whine. 

You’re out of breath and confused. In your haze, he pulls off his belt and frees his hard cock from his pants, stroking it for a moment of relief. 

He was big. Not surprising, given the way his body fills up the enclosed space of your car. Everything about him was so, so big. 

He appears to be able to read your mind. “You can take it, can’t you?” To that you answer with a nod, eyes not leaving his length. “Good girl.”

You’re still sensitive from when he fingered you and the subsequent intrusion is a mix of pleasure and pain. He takes satisfaction in seeing you take him so well, inch by inch. He likes how your pretty mouth hangs open and how your belly rises and falls with each labored breath. 

After what feels like an eternity, he’s stretched you out to the hilt. You’re convinced you’ve never felt so utterly and completely full as you do now. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He presses a hand down on your stomach solely to feel himself inside you. 

“Just, move. Please—” You’re growing desperate and restless. 

“Is that the tone you want to use with me?” He draws back so only his tip remains inside you. “But since you said please…” You scream when his cock slams back in and starts going at a ruthless pace. You hear lightning strike in the distance.

“Fuck fuck, Feels s’good Caleb—” 

“That’s it, pretty girl. You’re doing so well. Missed this so much.”

Your orgasm comes fast this time. It’s blinding and encompassing and it takes all your breath away. He takes you through it, continuing his pace and rubbing your clit for added relief. He follows suit soon after, finishing inside you with one last thrust and collapsing on top of you without pulling out. The weight is comfortable, warm. 

Your windows are covered in a layer of fog and the rain outside has become a wet downpour. The muffled sound of raindrops surround the two of you and you think you could fall asleep in this exact moment.  

“I’m still mad at you.” Your hands find their way back to playing with his hair.

He chuckles and his whole body vibrates as he does, “I know, Babygirl. I know.”

@umazaki 2025 - all rights reserved. do not replicate, repost, edit, or translate my work on any platform. 

divider by saradika_graphics

[pdriesta]

CHAPTER FOUR

"baby, i'm talkin' crazy, i need you right in my space"

pairing — trentxblack!r&b artist

tropes — fake dating, enemies-to-lovers

warnings — sexual tension, toxic relationships, mature themes (minors dni)

word count — 9k

summary — y/n, a rising r&b star, is stuck in toxic situationships, with tabloids constantly overshadowing her music. to fix her image, her team pushes her into a fake relationship with liverpool’s trent alexander-arnold. both reluctant, they soon realize keeping things strictly business isn't so simple. will pretending to be in love stay a game, or turn into something real?

an — we’re getting somewhere. or are we?

masterlist

y/n threw another folded wedding invitation onto the growing stack with a sharp flick of her wrist, her movements still heavy with frustration. she grabbed another card, but her hand trembled slightly, and she let out a loud sigh, leaning back on her hands.

zaia, now fully lying on the couch with her legs tossed over the armrest, had a bowl of strawberries balanced on her stomach, lazily munching as she observed y/n. her gaze flicked to her for the fifth time in a minute, eyebrows knitting in curiosity. finally, she couldn’t hold back.

“okay, seriously. what is wrong with you?” she set her glass down and swung her legs onto the floor, leaning forward. “you’ve been folding these invitations like you’re mad at them. they didn’t do anything to you. spill.”

“nothing,” y/n said quickly, though her voice cracked slightly, betraying her.

zaia narrowed her eyes. “don’t lie to me, y/n. you’re my best friend, but i will fight you if you’re mad about jadon while folding my wedding invitations. do not bring that man into my sacred marital process.”

y/n scoffed, though her lips twitched at the absurd threat. “it’s not jadon.”

zaia raised an eyebrow. “then what? because you’ve been in a mood all afternoon. girl, i know something happened.”

y/n sighed, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “it’s trent.”

“trent?” zaia repeated, sitting up straighter. “what did he do? because the last time i checked, you were flirting and texting nonstop. the vibe seemed immaculate.”

“well, apparently, it wasn’t,” y/n snapped, sitting up and crossing her arms. “because he rejected me.”

zaia froze. “wait—what? rejected you?”

“yeah.” y/n laughed bitterly. “he actually had the audacity to act like I was reading too much into things. like I imagined all of it.”

zaia blinked, struggling to process. “hold on. the same trent who’s been facetiming you, texting you, and practically falling over himself to spend time with you?”

“yep.”

“the same trent who’s been flirting with you so much that even jadon started noticing?”

“the one and only,” y/n replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

zaia sat back, utterly baffled. “wow. the nerve of men. i mean, what even is his excuse?”

“he said I’m ‘complicated,’” y/n said, rolling her eyes.

zaia frowned. “complicated? girl, you’re a hot R&B star. of course you’re complicated. but that’s not an excuse—it’s a selling point!”

y/n groaned, burying her face in her hands. “it’s just... ugh! my ego, zai. i don’t even know if I like him that much. but to be rejected like that? by someone who was literally pursuing me?”

zaia hummed, her tone thoughtful. “so... you don’t actually like him?”

“no!” y/n said quickly, then hesitated. “i mean, not really. it’s not like i’m in love with him or something. it’s just... he played me, zai. and it’s embarrassing.”

zaia tilted her head, studying her friend. “okay, but real talk. aren’t you still technically... seeing jadon?”

y/n flinched, guilt flashing across her face. “i mean... kind of? but we’re not, like, exclusive or anything.”

zaia smirked knowingly. “mm-hmm. but you’re sitting here all worked up about trent, folding my wedding invitations like a woman scorned.”

“shut up,” y/n muttered, her cheeks burning.

“look,” zaia said, leaning forward and placing a hand on y/n’s knee. “you’re y/n. you’re a hot, talented, world-famous singer. why are you even wasting time on these guys? you should be out there looking for a husband, not playing these little games with boys who don’t know what they want.”

y/n laughed softly, though it was more out of exhaustion than amusement. “a husband, huh?”

“yes, a husband,” zaia said firmly. “these guys? jadon, trent? they’re just passing through. they’re like appetizers at a fancy dinner. nice to look at, fun to taste, but not the main course.”

“you’re ridiculous,” y/n said, but her lips twitched into a small smile.

“i’m just saying.” zaia shrugged, picking up her wine glass again. “you’re too good for all this nonsense. let them chase you if they want to, but don’t lose sleep over it. you’ve got bigger things to focus on.”

y/n sighed, leaning back against the couch. “you’re right. as always.”

“damn straight,” zaia said with a grin, raising her glass in a mock toast. “now, stop abusing my wedding invitations and let’s get back to folding them like civilized people.”

y/n laughed, finally letting go of some of her frustration. but deep down, a small part of her couldn’t stop replaying trent’s words in her mind. complicated. messy. was that really how he saw her? and if it was... why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

y/n found herself standing in front of a door she knew all too well, her heart heavy and her mind a jumbled mess of emotions she couldn’t untangle. she stared at the wood grain, her fingers hovering just above the doorbell. she hadn’t even realized where her feet were taking her until she was here, at jadon’s place—her safe place, whether she liked it or not.

her hand trembled as she pressed the doorbell, the faint sound echoing inside. within seconds, the door swung open, and there he was—jadon. his dark eyes immediately scanned her face, his expression softening when he saw the distress written all over her features.

“y/n,” he said gently, his voice carrying that familiar warmth. “what’s wrong?”

the dam broke at his words, her shoulders slumping as tears she didn’t even realize she was holding back threatened to spill. she tried to speak, but all that came out was a shaky breath.

“hey, hey,” jadon said softly, stepping aside to let her in. he didn’t push for answers, didn’t bombard her with questions. instead, he guided her inside with a hand on her back, leading her to the couch. “sit down, yeah? i’ll grab you some water.”

her throat felt dry, the words caught somewhere between her heart and her lips. instead of answering, she stepped inside, brushing past him as if that might help her escape the ache in her chest.

jadon closed the door behind her, watching her closely. “is this about trent?” he asked after a beat, his tone knowing but not unkind.

she froze, her back to him, and he took that as his answer.

“come on,” he said, his hand lightly brushing her arm to guide her toward the couch. “sit down. tell me what’s going on.”

she sank into the cushions, her shoulders slumping as she buried her face in her hands. the room was silent except for the faint hum of the tv in the background, but even that felt too loud against the whirlwind in her mind.

“he rejected me,” she finally whispered, her voice barely audible. “he—he pulled away, like i wasn’t worth it. like i was just... too much for him.”

jadon’s jaw tightened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. “he really said that?” he asked, his voice calm but edged with quiet frustration.

she shook her head, tears spilling over despite her best efforts to keep them at bay. “not in so many words, but i could tell. the way he looked at me, the way he said... everything. it’s like he changed his mind about me, and i didn’t even see it coming.”

jadon leaned forward, his hand resting gently over hers. “y/n,” he started, his tone soft but firm, “you know i don’t like seeing you like this. and honestly? it pisses me off that he’s making you feel this way. you’re better than this. you’re better than him.”

she looked up, her eyes red and filled with unshed tears. “don’t, j. don’t make this about him.”

“why not?” he shot back, his voice low but steady. “because it is about him, y/n. he’s the one who couldn’t see what he had right in front of him. he’s the one who made you feel like you weren’t enough. that’s on him, not you.”

she swallowed hard, his words hitting her in a way that felt both comforting and unsettling. “i just... i didn’t want to be alone tonight,” she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. “and you’re the only person i could think to call.”

jadon’s lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile. “you know why, don’t you?” he asked, his tone softening. “because you always know where you stand with me. despite what it looks like, i’ve never played games with you, y/n. i’ve never made you guess how i feel. i always follow your lead”

she let out a shaky breath, her chest tightening at his words. she wanted to believe him, to let his reassurance fill the void trent had left behind, but there was a part of her that couldn’t let go of the rejection.

“i know you’re hurting,” jadon continued, his fingers brushing against hers. “but don’t let him make you think for one second that you’re not worth it. you’re more than worth it. and if he can’t see that, then... maybe he doesn’t deserve you.”

his words were like a balm on her wounded pride, his presence grounding her in a way that felt almost too easy. she leaned into him, her head resting against his chest as his arms came around her, warm and secure.

“i don’t know what to do, j,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his shirt.

“you don’t have to do anything,” he said, his tone gentle but resolute. “just let me take care of you tonight. no pressure, no expectations. i just want you to feel like yourself again.”

she closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her. it wasn’t love—it wasn’t even close—but it was comfort. and right now, that was enough. at least, that’s what she told herself as she let him pull her closer, his touch steady and sure.

but deep down, as much as she wanted to believe his reassurances, she couldn’t stop the thought creeping into her mind: why couldn’t trent see her the way jadon did? and why, even now, was she still hoping he would?

jadon let out a slow breath, his hand still resting on hers. “maybe he can’t see what’s right in front of him, but that doesn’t mean you’re not worth it. you are, y/n. and i’ll remind you every day if that’s what it takes.”

she leaned into him, the warmth of his embrace wrapping around her like a shield against the storm in her mind. she didn’t know what the future held, but for now, in jadon’s arms, she felt safe. seen. wanted.

even if it wasn’t love, it was enough.

the next morning, y/n shifted slightly, trying to ease herself out of jadon's embrace without waking him, but his arm tightened around her waist. his voice was soft, groggy, but still teasing. "trying to sneak off already, beautiful?"

she froze, her lips pressing together. "just... didn’t want to wake you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

jadon sat up slightly, propping himself on one elbow to look at her. his hair was a mess, his expression a mix of sleep and concern. "you don’t have to overthink it, y/n. i told you, you always know where you stand with me. no guessing, no games."

her heart twisted at his words, guilt threading through her chest. she wanted to believe him, to let those words comfort her the way they were meant to. but in the back of her mind, all she could think about was trent—his words, his distance, the way he made her feel like she wasn’t enough.

she managed a small smile, hoping it masked the storm inside her. "i know, j. you’ve been... amazing." her voice cracked slightly on the last word, and she hated how unsteady it sounded.

jadon's hand found hers, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. "hey," he said softly, his tone steady but warm. "you don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready. i just... i hate seeing you like this, like someone’s made you doubt yourself. you don’t deserve that."

her eyes welled up, and she blinked rapidly, turning her face away. "it’s not that simple, j. i thought..." she trailed off, biting her lip to stop herself from saying more.

"you thought he was different," jadon finished for her, his voice calm but edged with frustration. "and he’s not. i get it. but don’t let him make you feel like you’re hard to love, y/n, because you’re not. you’re incredible, and anyone who can’t see that is blind."

his words hit her like a wave, warm and reassuring, but they didn’t erase the hollow ache in her chest. "you make it sound easy," she whispered, her voice fragile.

jadon sat up fully now, his hand cupping her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. "it’s not about easy. it’s about knowing your worth. and you’re worth everything, y/n."

her breath hitched, and she nodded, even though the doubt still lingered. jadon's sincerity was overwhelming, and yet her mind kept circling back to trent—the rejection, the uncertainty, the way he made her feel small even without meaning to. she hated how much space he still took up in her thoughts, how much power his actions still had over her.

"thank you," she said finally, her voice shaky but genuine. "i mean it. you’re... you’ve been everything i needed."

jadon leaned back slightly, his trademark grin slipping back into place, though it was softer now. "that’s what i’m here for, beautiful. to remind you of who you are, even if you forget sometimes."

she laughed lightly, the sound hollow to her own ears. "i don’t think i’ve ever been as lost as i am right now."

"then let me help you find your way," he said simply, no hesitation in his voice.

y/n wanted to believe him, wanted to let herself fully sink into the comfort he offered. but deep down, she knew this wasn’t about finding her way—it was about running from the fear of rejection that had been carved deeper into her soul. jadon had been her solace for the night, but he couldn’t fix what was broken inside her. only she could.

and right now, she wasn’t sure she was ready to face it.

y/n tugged at her earrings, checking her reflection in the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time. her fingers were tense, tugging at the silver hoops as if they’d snap from the pressure. her outfit was a perfect contradiction—stylish yet understated, carefully put together to look like she hadn’t put in any effort at all. but the truth was, she had. too much.

it wasn’t for him, she told herself for the tenth time that evening. not for trent. but even the thought of his name made her stomach churn, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. the nerve of him—to flirt with her, to text her like he couldn’t go a day without hearing from her, to kiss her like she was the only woman in the world... only to turn around and act like none of it mattered. like she didn’t matter.

her grip tightened on her phone, and she took a deep breath. there was no way out of this dinner. their schedules had aligned for once, and skipping it wasn’t an option without raising questions. still, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

trent sat at the restaurant, his jaw set as he glanced at the clock on his phone. she was late—not surprising, given the way she’d been acting lately. every interaction with her over the past week had been short, distant, and clipped. her messages came hours late, if they came at all, and when they did, they were devoid of the warmth he’d grown used to.

he shouldn’t care. it wasn’t like they were anything official. she should be happy, he told himself, his leg bouncing under the table. she can be with jadon now. isn’t that what she wanted? isn’t that why she’s acting like this?

but the thought didn’t sit right. it didn’t explain why he felt a pang of something—jealousy? irritation?—every time her name flashed on his screen, knowing her messages would be curt. or why he’d spent the past week replaying the way she looked at him that night at the club, the way she melted under his touch.

his train of thought was interrupted when she walked in, and for a moment, his breath hitched. y/n had a way of commanding attention, even when she wasn’t trying. she looked effortlessly beautiful, but there was something guarded about her demeanor, like she’d wrapped herself in a layer of armor.

“you’re late,” he said as he stood, his tone light but edged with something he couldn’t hide.

“and you’re observant,” she replied, breezing past him to take her seat.

trent blinked, caught off guard by her coolness. “everything alright?”

“perfect,” she said with a tight smile, flipping open the menu as if she hadn’t just brushed him off.

the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife, and the meal began in stiff silence. trent tried to make small talk, commenting on the menu, asking about her recent work, but every attempt was met with a short, disinterested response.

by the time the appetizers arrived, he’d had enough.

“so, this is how it’s gonna be?” he asked, setting down his fork and leaning back in his chair.

y/n didn’t look up. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you’ve been acting like this all night—no, scratch that, all week,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “if you didn’t want to come, you could’ve just said so.”

her eyes finally met his, sharp and unyielding. “oh, please. like i had a choice? we have appearances, remember? it’s not like i’m here for the company.”

trent’s jaw clenched. “you know what? fine. if you’re still mad about the other night, just say it. at least then we can stop with this passive-aggressive nonsense.”

y/n let out a bitter laugh, setting her napkin down. “you think this is about me being mad? you’re the one who’s been playing games, trent. one minute you’re all in, the next you’re acting like i’m some kind of inconvenience.”

“maybe you are,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

she froze, her eyes widening in disbelief. the hurt flashed across her face for only a second before she quickly masked it. “wow,” she said, her voice trembling with barely restrained anger. “you really know how to make a girl feel special.”

trent exhaled heavily, running a hand down his face. “look, i didn’t mean it like that—”

“no, you meant it,” she interrupted, her voice sharp. “and you know what? you’re right. everything about me is complicated, trent. i’ve got baggage, issues, whatever you want to call it. but don’t sit there and act like you’re above it all. you’re no saint.”

he leaned forward, his tone quieter but no less biting. “this is why i stopped... whatever this is. because with you, it’s always something. always drama. always more than it needs to be.”

the words hit her like a slap, and for a moment, she was too stunned to speak. when she finally found her voice, it was cold, clipped, and dripping with disdain. “you know what? you’re right. i am complicated. and you? you’re a coward. but don’t worry, trent. you won’t have to deal with my ‘drama’ anymore.”

she grabbed her bag, her grip tight on the strap as her fingers curled into it, her entire body rigid with anger. her breath was shallow, chest rising and falling with the intensity of the moment. trent’s eyes followed her, but he didn’t move. he stayed planted, his gaze lingering as she stood, her chair scraping against the floor with a harsh screech.

“y/n—”

“no, this date is over,” she snapped, cutting him off, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and hurt. she didn't even wait for him to respond before she turned, her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she stormed toward the door.

trent didn’t move to stop her. he couldn’t. part of him wanted to, wanted to run after her, say something, make her stay, but the words stuck in his throat, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. instead, he watched as she disappeared out the door, his chest tightening with a strange emptiness.

he stayed there, alone with the lingering silence, and he couldn’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, she was right. maybe everything between them had been a game all along. but what stung more than anything was the sinking feeling that he’d just let something real slip through his fingers without ever truly knowing how to hold on to it.

trent stood outside y/n’s house, his hand hovering over the doorbell. the soft glow of the hallway light did little to calm the storm inside him. he’d spent all night replaying their argument, her voice tight with hurt, the way her eyes had brimmed with tears she tried to hide. he hated himself for the things he’d said, for the things he didn’t say. he’d come to fix it, to explain himself, to tell her he was sorry.

but when the door swung open, it wasn’t y/n standing there. it was jadon.

trent froze, his jaw tightening as his eyes flicked over the other man. jadon leaned casually against the doorframe, his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as if this wasn’t the last place trent expected to see him. he was wearing sweats and a t-shirt, looking entirely too at home.

“trent,” jadon greeted, his tone easy, like they were old friends instead of whatever this was. “didn’t expect to see you here.”

“yeah, clearly,” trent bit out, his voice low and controlled. his gaze darted past jadon into the apartment, searching for any sign of her. “is y/n here?”

jadon shrugged, leaning his shoulder against the frame like he had all the time in the world. “she’s in the shower.”

trent’s chest tightened at the casual way jadon said it, as if this was normal, as if he was always here. “and you’re here because…?”

jadon raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “because she wanted me here. anything else you wanna ask?”

trent’s fists clenched at his sides, his mind racing with a thousand questions he couldn’t voice. instead, he forced himself to keep his tone steady. “what’s going on with you and y/n?”

jadon’s expression didn’t falter, but there was something sharp in his eyes, a flicker of satisfaction as he straightened up. “we’re friends,” he said simply, the word dripping with a familiarity that made trent’s stomach churn.

“friends,” trent repeated, his voice flat, skeptical.

“yeah,” jadon replied, his tone light, almost teasing. “you know, the kind of friend who shows up when she needs someone. the kind who doesn’t make her guess where she stands.”

trent’s jaw tightened, the words hitting harder than they should have. jadon’s ease, his confidence—it grated on him, like salt in a wound. he wanted to call him out, to ask what the hell he was really doing here, but he couldn’t. not without giving away just how much it bothered him.

“look,” jadon continued, his voice calm but pointed. “if you’re here to talk to her, maybe come back later. she’s had a rough couple of days, and honestly? i don’t think you’re helping.”

trent’s chest burned with frustration, the unspoken accusation in jadon’s words cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. he glanced past him again, as if she might magically appear and explain everything, but the sound of the shower running only reminded him how out of place he felt.

“right,” trent said finally, his voice colder than he intended. “tell her i stopped by.”

jadon’s smirk softened into something almost pitying, and trent hated it. “sure thing,” he said easily, stepping back into the apartment. “take care, trent.”

the door closed before he could say anything else, leaving him standing there in the dim hallway, his heart pounding with a mix of anger and something dangerously close to jealousy. he turned on his heel, walking away with a stiffness in his step, the questions swirling in his mind louder than ever.

he’d come to apologize, to make things right. but now, all he could think about was the way jadon had looked so comfortable, so sure of his place in her life. and trent? he wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

he didn’t even know where he was going. his heart was pounding in his chest, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts, all of them leading back to one thing: it was too late.

he should’ve been more clear. he should’ve told her what he wanted, instead of pulling away and leaving her confused. and now, seeing how comfortable jadon looked, how at ease he was in her space, trent realized with a heavy weight settling on his chest: y/n didn’t feel the way he felt. she was already getting what she needed from someone else.

trent slammed his hand against the steering wheel when he got to his car. he wasn’t going to wait around anymore, hoping she’d come to her senses. he’d made his choices, and she had made hers.

and maybe it was for the best.

but it still hurt.

trent sat in his car, the engine idling but his mind far away from the present moment. he hadn’t expected it to feel like this. he hadn’t expected the ache in his chest, the gnawing sensation that left him hollow when he saw y/n with someone else. but he couldn’t blame her—he had drawn the line, built the wall between them. he couldn’t fault her for finding comfort in someone who had never made things complicated.

you made your choice, he reminded himself, gripping the steering wheel tighter. but even as the thought echoed in his head, the reality felt harder to accept than he’d imagined.

she doesn’t know I know, he thought bitterly. she doesn’t know I saw them. she doesn’t know it’s already too late.

with a sigh, he threw the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. there was no point in pretending anymore. they weren’t together. not anymore. y/n had made her choice, and he had to respect that.

trent approached her with that same charged energy she’d felt all night, his jaw tight, his movements deliberate. she could tell something was brewing behind his sharp eyes, and she braced herself.

“you gonna keep giving me attitude, or are we actually going to talk about whatever’s eating you?” he snapped, stopping a foot away from her.

y/n tilted her head, feigning nonchalance even though her pulse quickened. “what makes you think it’s about you?”

trent huffed a laugh, low and humorless. “don’t do that. don’t act like you haven’t been throwing daggers at me all night. just say what’s on your mind.”

“fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “you want to talk? let’s talk about how you’re the one who’s been stringing me along, acting all interested one minute and then pulling back the next. what do you even want from me, trent?”

“i’ve been stringing you along?” he repeated, his voice rising. “are you serious right now? you’re the one jumping between me and jadon like it’s a game.”

her expression faltered, confusion flickering across her face. “what are you talking about?”

he took a step closer, his eyes blazing. “i came over the other day. to your place. to apologize for how i handled things. guess what i saw?”

her lips parted, but no sound came out. she didn’t need to guess. the realization hit her like a truck.

“yeah,” he said, his tone biting. “i saw him there. with you. i left before you even knew i was there because, honestly, what the hell was i supposed to say?”

y/n stared at him, her mind scrambling for a response. “trent, it’s not—”

“don’t,” he interrupted, holding up a hand. “don’t stand there and try to explain it away. i saw what i saw.”

“he was just—”

“spare me,” trent cut her off, his voice sharp. “you don’t owe me an explanation, y/n. but don’t act like i’m the bad guy here. i’m putting boundaries in place because you’ve already put yourself in a mess i’m not interested in being involved in.”

her shock quickly gave way to indignation. “a mess? is that what you think of me? of my life?”

“what else am i supposed to think?” he shot back. “you’re running back to someone who doesn’t respect you, and then you’re angry at me for stepping back. you don’t see how that looks?”

“i’m not running back to him!” she snapped, her voice shaking. “you don’t know anything about what’s going on between us.”

“then enlighten me,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “because from where i’m standing, it looks like you’re holding onto something that’s only dragging you down.”

y/n clenched her fists at her sides, her anger boiling over. “you don’t get to judge me, trent. not when you’re the one who’s too scared to even admit how you feel about me. at least jadon’s clear about his feelings. he doesn’t hide any chance he gets.”

trent’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. “you think this is about me being scared? i’m not scared, y/n. i’m choosing not to get involved because i know how this ends. i’m not interested in being someone’s rebound, and i’m not interested in competing with him.”

“you’re not competing with anyone,” she said, her voice cracking.

“aren’t i?” he challenged, his voice lower now but no less intense. “because it sure as hell feels like it.”

she looked away, unable to meet his piercing gaze. “it’s not that simple,” she said quietly. “things with jadon are… complicated.”

trent exhaled harshly, running a hand over his face. “complicated,” he repeated. “of course, they are. everything with you is complicated.”

she flinched at the bitterness in his tone. “i know what it looks like, okay? but when things are good with him… i remember why i fell for him in the first place.”

trent’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, her words slicing through him. he wanted to say something, to ask her why she couldn’t see the damage she was doing to herself, but the words lodged in his throat.

he looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before finally speaking. “are you in love with him or something?”

the question hung in the air between them, heavy and suffocating. y/n hesitated, and in that hesitation, trent felt his chest tighten. her silence was confirmation enough for him.

when she finally answered, her voice was barely audible. “i don’t know.”

trent nodded once, his jaw clenching. “right,” he said simply, his voice flat.

she wanted to say more, to explain herself, but the look in his eyes stopped her. it was a mixture of disappointment and resignation, and it made her stomach twist painfully.

the silence between them stretched on, neither of them knowing what to say. and for the first time that night, y/n felt like she’d truly lost something she couldn’t get back.

trent's frustration hit a boiling point, his words tumbling out without restraint. “you know what, y/n? maybe you like the drama. maybe that’s why you stay in this mess. it gives you an excuse to never take responsibility for yourself.”

y/n’s face twisted in anger, and she took a step closer, her voice razor-sharp. “and maybe you think too much of a yourself to admit that you’re no better than he is. at least jadon doesn’t pretend to care and then push me away the second things get real.”

trent’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring as he took in her words. he opened his mouth, then closed it, his hand twitching at his side. finally, he snapped, “you know what, y/n? forget it. i’m done.”

she threw her hands in the air, her laugh bitter and disbelieving. “of course you are. running away again—classic trent.”

she turned on her heel, her shoulders rigid as she moved through the crowd. the pulsing bass of the club seemed to echo her anger, and she didn’t look back. but trent couldn’t let it go. something in him twisted, a knot of frustration, desire, and the raw, unspoken feelings he’d been burying for far too long.

before he could stop himself, he was chasing after her, weaving through bodies until he spotted her heading toward a quieter corner of the club. his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and spinning her around.

“what the hell is your problem—” she started, but he cut her off.

“what did i tell you about that attitude, y/n?” his voice was low, dangerous, his grip firm but not painful. her eyes widened slightly, her breath hitching, and he stepped closer, crowding her against the wall.

“you’re such a brat, y/n,” he said, his tone laced with both frustration and something darker, something that made her heart race.

her eyes narrowed, defiance flashing in them. “and you’re an asshole, trent.”

he smirked, leaning in until their faces were inches apart. “maybe. but you’re the one who keeps pushing me, aren’t you?”

she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, his lips crashed against hers. the kiss was anything but gentle—it was raw, desperate, all the tension and unspoken words between them finally finding release.

y/n gasped against his mouth, her hands instinctively gripping his jacket. trent didn’t pull back; he only deepened the kiss, his hands sliding to her waist, pulling her closer. her resolve melted, her anger dissolving into the heat of the moment as her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

“i told you not to push me, y/n,” he murmured against her lips, his voice rough and breathless.

he kissed her again, his lips trailing down her jawline to her neck. his movements were deliberate, each kiss igniting a fire under her skin. she felt his breath against her neck as he whispered, “you drive me crazy, you know that?”

her knees felt weak, her mind a haze of sensations as his hands moved to grip her hips. “trent,” she managed, her voice shaky but firm.

he pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against her skin as he spoke. “tell me to stop, y/n. tell me, and i will.”

but she didn’t. instead, her hands moved to his chest, gripping his shirt as if to anchor herself. his lips found her collarbone, and her breath hitched, her head tilting back against the wall.

“you’re impossible,” she breathed, her voice tinged with frustration and longing.

he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against her skin. “and you’re stubborn as hell.”

just as his lips found hers again, the reality of the situation hit her like a bucket of ice water. her mind snapped back into focus, and she pushed against his chest, breaking the kiss.

“i... i can’t,” she stammered, her voice barely audible over the pounding music.

trent froze, his hands still on her waist as he looked at her, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration. “y/n—”

“i have to go,” she said quickly, stepping away from him. her lips were swollen, her heart racing, but her mind was screaming at her to leave. without another word, she turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving trent standing there, his chest heaving as he watched her go.

the car ride was quiet, the low hum of the engine filling the silence as y/n stared out the window, watching the city slowly fade into the countryside. she hadn’t expected trent to bring her out of manchester, much less to a small family restaurant tucked away in what felt like the middle of nowhere. the smell of jerk chicken and spices hit her the moment they walked through the door, the warmth of the place wrapping around her like a blanket.

she glanced at him as they were led to a secluded table in the back, her curiosity bubbling up. “so... why are we here?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

trent leaned back in his chair, his eyes steady on her. “we needed privacy.”

her brows furrowed as she looked around the cozy restaurant, the walls decorated with photos of jamaican beaches and families. it was clear this place meant something to him, but she wasn’t sure what. “privacy for what, exactly?”

trent hesitated, running a hand over his jaw, a telltale sign he was gathering his thoughts. “for us. for this... conversation we need to have.”

y/n’s stomach twisted at his words, her appetite disappearing before it even had a chance to surface. “fine,” she said, her voice steady even though her nerves were anything but. “let’s talk about it.”

trent leaned forward slightly, his forearms resting on the table. “look, y/n, i’m sorry for everything. i don’t know why, but with you, i can’t help but say the wrong things.”

she scoffed, her arms tightening across her chest. “hurting me time and time again isn’t some accidental slip of the tongue, trent. it’s a choice.”

his face tightened, like he’d been struck, but before he could respond, she continued, her voice sharper now. “do you even realize how badly you’ve treated me? how you made me feel like i was a joke? you jumped to conclusions about me, about jadon, about everything, and you rejected me based on signals you sent. and then—then—you kissed me in that club like none of it mattered. do you have any idea how hard it is to not get whiplash with you?”

trent’s jaw clenched, his gaze dropping to the table for a moment. “i know,” he admitted quietly. “clearly, i’ve never done this before. i don’t know the 101 on fake dating, y/n.”

she let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “this isn’t about fake dating, trent. this is about how you’ve made me feel. you pushed at insecurities you knew i had about relationships. you made me feel small, like i wasn’t good enough.”

his hand twitched as if he wanted to reach for hers but thought better of it. “i’m sorry,” he said again, his voice heavier this time. “i swear i didn’t mean to. what i do know is... since i kissed you, i can’t get you off my mind—more than usual. your lips, your body, the way you felt against me... it’s all i’ve been thinking about.”

y/n’s heart skipped, but she shoved the feeling aside, her eyes narrowing. “so you just want to fuck me? is that supposed to woo me? because that’s just lust, trent.”

he exhaled sharply, frustration flashing in his eyes. “it’s more than that. i can’t describe it, but it’s more.”

she sighed, leaning back in her chair as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “i can’t keep up with you. i can’t just move on from how you’ve treated me so far.”

trent nodded slowly, his jaw working like he was biting back whatever he wanted to say. “i know. i don’t expect you to just forgive me overnight. but i want to fix this.”

for a moment, they sat in heavy silence, the sound of clinking plates and quiet laughter from other diners filling the space between them. y/n rubbed at her temple, trying to make sense of everything he’d said, everything she felt. but before she could respond, he shifted gears, his tone softer.

“what about jadon?”

her head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. “can we not?”

“why not?” he pressed, his tone edging on frustration. “you seemed close.”

she frowned, crossing her arms again. “because he has nothing to do with this.”

trent’s brow furrowed. “nothing? i saw him at your house.”

y/n froze, her heart skipping a beat. “what? when?”

“a few weeks ago,” he said, watching her carefully. “he was there, and you were... in the shower.”

her stomach dropped. jadon hadn’t told her trent had been there, and now the weight of the revelation hit her like a truck. “are you serious?” she muttered, her voice tight.

trent leaned forward again, his elbows on the table. “why was he there, y/n?”

she shook her head, her frustration bubbling over. “why do you care? it’s not like we’re anything. you made that very clear with your boundaries.”

trent’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping low as he leaned in. “i don’t want boundaries. i want you.”

the words hung in the air between them, and y/n’s breath hitched. she blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his tone, the rawness in his expression. “what?” she whispered, barely able to get the word out.

he sat back slightly, his gaze steady. “end it with jadon.”

her head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. "it’s not that simple.“trent... there’s nothing to end. it’s not that simple."”

"why not?" he challenged, leaning forward. "if it’s making you feel this way, if it’s messing with your head—why not just end it?"

"because..." she hesitated, her words faltering under his intense gaze. "it’s not just about me, trent. things are complicated. you said it yourself—I’m complicated."

his jaw clenched, and he sat back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest. "the way i see it, real or fake—when i laid my lips on you, y/n, you became mine."

her breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as his words hung in the air. she tried to muster a response, but nothing came out. instead, she stared at him, her mind racing.

"you can’t just say things like that," she finally managed, her voice shaky.

"why not? it’s the truth," trent shot back, his voice calm but resolute. "i’m not the one dragging this out, y/n. you are."

she let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through her hair. "he’s leaving, okay?" she blurted out, her voice rising slightly. "he’s going to germany, and i just... i just need to sort things out, okay?"

trent’s expression hardened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "you’re holding onto something that’s already slipping away. and for what? to spare his feelings? to avoid your own?"

"it’s not about sparing anyone’s feelings," she snapped, glaring at him. "i’m trying to do the right thing."

he shook his head, his frustration evident. "and where does that leave you, y/n? stuck in the same cycle, over and over again."

she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "if i’m so complicated," she said quietly, "why did you do that? why kiss me?"

the question hung in the air, and for a moment, trent said nothing. then, he leaned forward, his voice soft but steady. "why? because i couldn’t stop myself, y/n."

her cheeks flushed, and she looked down at her hands, suddenly feeling exposed. "you’re the most difficult man i've met," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"and you're the most difficult women i've ever met" he countered, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

trent’s eyes darkened, and he leaned closer, his voice low. "even with all that... it doesn’t make me want you any less, y/n."

her breath hitched, and for a moment, she thought he might actually kiss her again. but instead, he pulled back slightly, his gaze never leaving hers. "figure it out, y/n. because i’m not playing second to someone who doesn’t even know what he wants."

the words hit her like a punch to the gut, and she nodded, swallowing hard. "i will."

"good," trent said, his tone softer now. "because i know what i want. and it’s you."

the intensity in his voice left her speechless, and as he stood to leave, she realized just how much she’d crossed a line she couldn’t uncross.

she stared at trent, her eyes wide with disbelief at the words leaving his mouth. gone was the quiet, gentle trent who used to let her vent about her frustrations, her career, and, yes, even jadon. the man in front of her now was brimming with confidence, his tone sharp and unrelenting.

y/n blinked, the audacity of his demand pulling her out of the swirl of emotions. she leaned back, crossing her arms as she looked at him, her tone sharp. “you said i was a problem. now i’m supposed to drop everything for you?”

"so, you'll be my problem, not his," he said, leaning forward, his voice low and steady. "either way, last night already confirmed what i know."

her brows furrowed as she crossed her arms, trying to steel herself. "and what exactly do you think you know, trent?"

he smirked, leaning back slightly, the casual arrogance in his demeanor only fueling her irritation. "you want me just as bad as i want you."

she scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "yeah, right. keep dreaming."

trent's smirk only grew, and he tilted his head, watching her closely. "your body told me a different story, y/n. you can deny it all you want, but I know the truth."

her breath hitched, and she froze, absolutely stunned by the shift in his demeanor. the quiet, patient trent she had grown used to was nowhere to be found. this trent was bold, unapologetic, and completely unwavering in his confidence.

"excuse me?" she managed to choke out, her voice barely above a whisper.

"you heard me," he said, his tone softer now but still laced with an undeniable intensity. "last time, in that club—you didn’t pull away because you didn’t want it. you pulled away because you’re scared. scared of what it means."

her heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing to find a rebuttal, but she couldn’t deny the truth in his words. her reaction last night had been instinctual, driven by emotions she wasn’t ready to confront.

"you’re so full of yourself," she finally said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to sound strong. "you think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?"

trent leaned closer, his eyes locking onto hers, leaving no room for escape. "i don’t have to figure it out, y/n. you already told me everything i needed to know."

she shook her head, her frustration bubbling over. "you’ve changed," she said, her voice laced with disbelief. "where’s the trent who listened to me complain about work? who let me vent about jadon without judging me? you’re not that guy anymore."

he smiled faintly, the softness of it contrasting with the sharpness of his words. "maybe i got tired of pretending i don’t care about you. maybe i finally decided it’s time you see me for who i really am."

her stomach flipped, and she didn’t know if it was from anger, confusion, or something else entirely. "this isn’t you," she said weakly, more to herself than to him.

"you don’t know me as well as you think you do," he said simply, his eyes never leaving hers.

and just like that, the dynamic between them had shifted entirely, leaving her questioning everything she thought she knew about trent—and herself.

and with that, the conversation shifted, the weight of his words pressing down on her as they finished their meal, the tension between them lingering like a storm waiting to break.

as the night wound down, the tension between them seemed to settle, though it never truly disappeared. they left the restaurant in a comfortable silence, the kind that felt heavy with unspoken words but not unbearable. trent walked her to the car, opening the door for her like it was second nature.

the drive back to her place was quieter than before. the earlier emotions had worn her down, leaving her subdued, her gaze fixed on the passing streetlights. trent stole a glance at her every now and then, trying to decipher the thoughts running through her mind.

when they finally pulled up to her building, y/n unbuckled her seatbelt but made no immediate move to leave. instead, she turned to him, her features soft in the glow of the streetlamp outside.

"thanks for tonight," she said, her voice quieter than usual but no less sincere. "for... everything."

trent nodded, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. "you don’t have to thank me. i meant what i said, y/n."

she smiled faintly, her eyes lingering on him a moment longer before she leaned over. he froze as she placed a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek, the warmth of her lips sending a jolt through him.

when she pulled back, he blinked, feeling his face heat in a way he hadn’t felt in years. it wasn’t just the kiss itself—it was the tenderness behind it, the softness in her eyes. he was so used to her sharp edges, her fiery words, the way she’d dig her heels in when they argued. this version of her—gentle, warm—caught him completely off guard.

"goodnight, trent," she said softly as she opened the door, stepping out before he could fully process what had just happened.

he watched her walk to her door, pausing only to wave briefly before disappearing inside. sitting there in the quiet of his car, trent touched his cheek, the spot where her lips had been still warm. he exhaled deeply, leaning back in his seat, his chest tight with emotions he couldn’t quite put into words.

she always managed to throw him off balance. but tonight, it wasn’t her sass or stubbornness that had him reeling. it was the way she let her guard down, even if just for a moment. and he realized, as he sat there replaying the evening, that she had him more hooked than ever.

y/n's home felt colder than usual as y/n paced near the window, the faint street lights flickering against the glass. she wasn’t sure how this conversation would go, but the weight of it pressed heavy on her chest. jadon was leaving for germany tomorrow, and despite all the ups and downs between them, she owed him a proper goodbye.

the knock at the door came softly, almost hesitant. when she opened it, jadon stood there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, looking as boyish and familiar as ever. for a moment, it reminded her of better times, the easy comfort they used to share before everything got so complicated.

"hey," he said, his voice low.

"hey," she replied, stepping aside to let him in.

they settled in the living room, both of them keeping a careful distance. the silence between them was heavy but not hostile, and for that, she was grateful.

"so," jadon started, leaning back against the couch, "i guess this is it. back to dortmund."

she nodded, biting the inside of her cheek. "it’s what you need, though. a fresh start."

he gave her a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "yeah. but it’s not just for me, you know. i think it’s for us too."

her brows furrowed, and she shifted uncomfortably. "what do you mean?"

"i mean," he said, sitting forward, elbows resting on his knees, "we’ve been stuck in this loop, y/n. hurting each other, trying to fix things, and then hurting each other all over again. maybe it’s time to let it go."

the words hit her harder than she expected, and she blinked quickly, willing herself not to cry. "so, this is you ending it?"

he shook his head, his gaze soft. "it’s not about ending anything. it’s about moving on the right way. you’ve got your own thing going on here. i’ve got mine back there. but that doesn’t mean i don’t care about you."

her chest tightened, and she looked away, focusing on the floor. "it’s just... it’s hard, jadon. you’ve been a part of my life for so long."

"i know," he said gently. "but you’ll be fine. you’re strong, y/n. stronger than you think."

jadon sat back against the couch, exhaling deeply as he ran a hand through his hair. "y/n," he started, his tone softer now, "you’re worth so much more than this... than being in some non-exclusive, undefined relationship. i should’ve realized that sooner. i’m sorry for hurting you, for making you feel like you weren’t enough."

her eyes widened slightly at his words, her throat tightening. "i’m sorry too," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "i didn’t mean to keep going back and forth with you. i guess... i didn’t want to be alone."

jadon gave her a small, understanding smile. "i get it. but you shouldn’t settle for less than what you deserve just because you’re scared of being alone. you’re better than that, y/n."

his words sank in, and she nodded, unable to meet his gaze. the weight of their shared history made the moment feel heavier than she anticipated.

he hesitated for a moment before adding, "but i need to ask you something."

she looked at him, her brow furrowing slightly. "what?"

"trent," he said plainly, watching her reaction. "is he treating you right?"

her cheeks flushed instantly, and she shook her head quickly. "it’s not about trent," she said, her voice defensive.

jadon tilted his head, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "i can tell, y/n. the way you talk about him, the way you look when his name comes up—it’s the same way you used to be with me."

her blush deepened, and she crossed her arms over her chest, feeling caught off guard. "jadon, stop. it’s not like that."

"if you say so," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "but if it is, just... make sure he’s good to you, alright? you deserve that. and if he’s not, well," he paused, leaning forward slightly, his smirk fading into something more serious, "you know where to find me."

his words were surprisingly genuine, and she felt a pang of gratitude amidst her embarrassment. "thank you," she murmured, her voice soft.

jadon smiled, the tension between them easing slightly. "no problem. i just want you to be happy, y/n."

they sat there in silence for a while, the weight of the past years settling between them like a soft hum. and for the first time, she felt a sense of peace about letting go.

but as she walked him to the door and watched him leave, the reality of trent’s words from earlier came rushing back. the way i see it, real or fake, when i laid my lips on you, y/n, you became mine.

she pressed her back against the closed door, her skin still burning from the way trent had looked at her, the way his words had cut through her defenses. she didn’t know what to make of it all, but one thing was clear: whatever this was with trent, it was different. and it terrified her.

© PDRIESTA 2025

[blouisparadise]

Today we have the third part to our long fic rec list! These fics are all 100k words or more. You can check out the first part to this rec list here and the second part to this rec list here. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word.

1) There’s No Way Out (But Down) | Mature | 100,210 words 

When Harry had woken up that first day with a light tingling in his fingers, maybe he should have known something was going to go wrong. Now, sat in an empty field in fucking nowhere America, covered in blood, he realises he couldn’t save everyone. He knows his limits, has had them drilled into his head from the moment he was old enough to retain words. He knows he shouldn’t mess with the natural order of things. He knows that what will happen will happen one way or another either way. And yet, he can’t control himself. For the third time, he settles his hands on Louis Tomlinson’s still heart and wills it to beat once more.

2) Invisible Strings | Explicit | 102,431 words

Louis has been struggling with his social anxiety for years now and is completely content with not leaving the house and having no social contacts. It gives him peace and safety. But when his new delivery guy, Harry, wants to get to know him Louis just can’t resist. Together, they find new, creative ways to communicate despite his anxiety. Soon their connection deepens and Louis doesn’t want his protected life anymore and instead tries to fight his social anxiety for the first time in years. But how can you change what became your personality over the years? And how can you feel safe again in a world that showed you exactly how dangerous it is outside? A story about finding your inner strength, healing and love that fights all odds.

3) Nothing Worsens, Nothing Grows | Mature | 102,505 words

Another roadtrip au featuring Harry as the misunderstood hipster, Louis as the bitter psych major, Liam as the one with the secret boyfriend, and Niall as the one who just wants everyone to be happy.

4) Halfway Home | Mature | 103,158 words

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson were improbable childhood friends, much to Harry’s dismay. They were thrown together each summer when Harry was forced to visit Louis’ grandfathers’ ranch in Black Hills, South Dakota. With each passing year, their friendship blossomed into something more. When trail rides turned to stolen kisses, and tragedies turned to confessions until they could no longer deny the inevitable draw they felt for one another. Though life and their future plans soon set them on different paths. Ten years later, Louis is the proud owner of Halfway Home Wildlife Refuge. Harry returns to the ranch to escape the perils of his past in London, and though their memories still haunt Louis, he won’t let that deter him from his goals. However, someone has been keeping a close eye on the refuge, and possibly Louis specifically, and Harry’s return may have unleashed more than just old passions. There’s a hunter lurking in the Hills, someone who’s decided they’ve bided their time long enough.

5) If I Cannot Bend Heaven, I’ll Rise Hell| Explicit | 109,110 words

It blooms: In 1807, a boy falls for the wrong monster. It eats: In 1969, omegas began to disappear as rumors of the rising of a cannibalistic cult spread like wildfire. It grins: Now, one of the most powerful vampires of the West sits down for an interview to reveal all his sins. “Exodus 7:14-11:10, right before he sent the plagues, he said to Moses; ‘By this you will know that I am the Lord.’.” The vampire said with the ghost of a smile, small, almost intimate. “How can you annihilate something that you cannot touch, something you cannot see? How can you fight against a hungry God?“

6) Darling | Mature | 110,147 words

“Why do you call him darling?” I looked at Liam and felt my features soften. “Because he’s a darling. He’s absolutely the most precious thing I’ve ever seen. He’s a darling boy and I just want all of him and only him.”

7) The Healing Song | Mature | 111,851 words

Louis was carrying the large stuffed elephant like it was a baby, it’s trunk hanging over his shoulder and down his back and it’s front legs were resting around his neck, like it was hugging him. Said elephant was a present from Louis’ close friend Steve, who had thought Louis needed something to hug on bad days and had gifted him with a stuffed elephant the size of a one year old. Steve had been right. Some days Louis did need something to hug, and this elephant was as good as anything. Louis was having one of the rougher days. The harmonious state of the anxiety free life of a fearless Louis had ended the week after he met with Harry. It ended as abruptly as it had started. It was like pushing a button. Lights out. Almost as if the universe said “You’ve had your fun, crazy one, now go be sick” and slammed the door in his face.

8) (But) Baby We’re Everything  | Explicit | 117,618 words 

Harry and Louis broke up almost four years ago when their career paths took them different directions. Louis was hired at a primary school on the outskirts of London, and Harry went on to Cambridge to finish his degree and get his doctorate in education. But now, years later, Louis is a year two teacher at the same school he’s been employed at since the end of University, and Harry just so happens to be hired onto staff after finishing his postgraduate degree. Now that they’re back in each other’s lives, Louis has to face the secret Harry never discovered when he left years prior. Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?

9) Our Endless Numbered Days | Explicit | 120,815 words

“Harry?” whispered Louis, his mouth dry, his nose pressing against the other’s warm skin. “Mh?” Harry’s humming was gentle, his fingers lightly caressing the younger boy’s arm, his chest steadily rising and falling beneath Louis’ cheek. A couple of seconds passed, and Louis looked up at him in the darkness of the cave, barely able to make out the expression on his face. When he tried to inhale deeply, his breath hitched. He struggled to find the words to tell Harry what he was thinking about. Another couple of seconds passed, and Louis listened to the reassuring beating of the prince’s heart beneath his cheek. He couldn’t. “Nothing,” he whispered, his voice weak. I think you’re half of my soul.

10) Streetlights In The Dark Blue | Mature | 120,867 words

Louis Tomlinson is an investigative journalist. He’s spent the better part of his life researching the psyches of serial killers, and publishing articles to provide a deeper understanding into their methodologies. His pen-name, Orion, is well known around the globe. An alter-ego that keeps his pockets lined, and his identity private. That is, until a letter arrives at his home address. A letter containing a symbol. One dubbed by a serial killer who’d vanished three years prior. The postage stamp? Bainbridge Island. He’d spent so long peering into the darkness, it should be no surprise to discover that something had been looking back. The island presents a host of mysteries. It also houses a nosy witch, determined to break down his walls. And an FBI agent hellbent on shattering his carefully constructed world.

11) Three Men And A Baby | Explicit | 122,978 words

Note: There is a BH mention.

Louis’ life had been going along just fine. Until one morning when his entire world changes when he steps on a piece of lego belonging to a young boy who has randomly appeared in his flat. And with that boy comes his gorgeous father. His flatmate Zayn has some explaining to do but he’s definitely not complaining, instantly feeling connected to these new additions. Over the span of a year, life gets crazy, frustrating, surprising and most importantly…filled with love.

12) Siren Calls Me Home | Explicit | 133,762 words

Harry’s father had warned him. King Edward of Erendor had whispered his suspicions that Prince Louis of Blackmont was descended from the sirens, monsters from cautionary tales Harry was told as a child. A cruel, cold-hearted, and vicious nature wreathed in a breathtaking exterior, with coy smirks and slow blinks used to bend everyone to his will. His beauty was as well known as his cunning, his greed, and his ruthless grab for power. Time only proved the rumors to be true, and Harry made sure to keep his distance from the prince, never once speaking to him, and doing his best not to even meet his eye. Unfortunately, the ghosts of whispered warnings are powerless when one is up against the very tangible experience of being in Prince Louis’ presence.

13) The Compulsion to Find Love | Teen & Up | 140,138 words

The most prestigious English third-level institution, Candling University, accepts omega students for the first time and Louis Tomlinson applies with bright eyes and brighter ambitions. There he encounters personal obstacles, traditional mindsets and a beautiful boy who inverts every prejudice Louis has ever known.

14) Prisoner | Explicit | 140,445 words

When Louis Tomlinson heard the jury’s verdict, the world crumbled before his glassy blue eyes. Sentenced to five years in prison for a medical malpractice he did not commit, he was transferred to a maximum security prison. His days were numbered, he knew. Harry Styles, his cellmate and the monarch of the prison. Sadist like no other. The fumes coming out of his mouth were pure, bitter, flaming poison. Louis swallowed, certain it would be the last time he would ever do so. His body convulsed and his legs felt tremulous. He could have peed himself from the fear. “When I asked for a cellmate to have fun with, I didn’t imagine they’d bring me a little lamb.” If God had created Adam, the devil had created Harry.

15) No Hello Just Goodbye | Mature | 142,502 words

Louis had 9 months to try and convince himself out of it, but he knew from the very moment he saw the dreaded 2 lines that he couldn’t raise the baby. Not when the conception took place against his own will. Adoption was the only answer. He had no problems handing over his child nor did he endure any sort of regret. Or did he? 4 years after giving birth Louis sets out to search for his baby but what he finds instead is something he totally didn’t expect…… Love.

16) Where I Burn To Be | Explicit | 143,346 words

There were very few people who managed to get under Louis’ skin as effortlessly as Harry had, and even fewer who had done it in only a day and a half. It was quite an accomplishment, really. They’d only interacted a handful of times and yet Louis had the insatiable desire to slam the locker into that frustratingly well-defined face that never seemed to hold any expressions other than contempt and arrogance. “That’s right. I do own the skies. And you wanna know why?” he sneered. Without his boots on, Louis was a fair bit shorter than Harry, his eyes pretty much level with Harry’s chin and his socked toes bumping into the boots of the other man, close enough that Louis could make out the tiny scar on Harry’s brow and the individual shades of emerald in his irises. He was handsome, but that only made Louis hate him more. Heart thumping heavily against his sternum and his hands balled into fists, Louis lifted his chin defiantly and plastered a coldhearted smirk across his lips. “Because I’m the best goddamn pilot here.”

17) Your Eyes Are Tired But Keep Them Open Cause You Wouldn’t Wanna Miss A Thing | Explicit | 144,281 words

Louis is an omega in an abusive relationship everyone forced him into; he’s miserable until he meets his favorite student’s uncle, Harry, a gentle alpha with a big heart.

18) Give Me A Way To Breathe (If You Can) | Explicit | 152,100 words

“By decree of the Five Tribes of England, all omegas aged eighteen (18) to twenty-five (25) shall be bred annually at the age of eighteen warranted that they have had one (1) fertile heat. During these years, all omegas must remain unmated and fertile in time for their scheduled breeding session. Alphas between the age of sixteen (16) and thirty (30) will be selected based on physical strengths and medically exceptional sperm quality to breed the omegas. All viable children will be given to selected families. No parental rights will be given to the alpha whose sperm is donated or the omega who bears them. Those who do not serve their tribe by this law will face exile.” Louis’ eyes scanned the breeding letter. Written in a beautiful, careful cursive was the name of the alpha who would impregnate him, and it couldn’t have been more pretentious: Harry Styles.

19) Life And Love Finds A Way | Explicit | 165,244 words

Post-apocalyptic world after a plague had taken out more than half of the world’s population. In the midst of the pandemonium caused by so many people passing away, the population that was left had turned greedy and started attacking each other for food and resources now that there weren’t enough people to farm or work essential jobs. After being shot by a looter while he was on patrol, Harry had decided to leave the police department and move away to find somewhere remote to live. What he didn’t expect was for an omega to weasel his way into Harry’s heart.

20) Inevitable | Mature | 185,917 words

AU where Louis and Harry used to be more than friends, but everything had to change the day Harry introduces Louis to his new girlfriend.

21) I Thought We Were Forever | Mature | 235,556 words

“I need time alone from you.” Louis’ heart skipped a beat. That he had not seen coming. “From me?” his voice shook. Harry nodded, another tear rolling down his cheek. “I don’t understand, H.” “It’s-” “You want to go on holidays on your own or something?” frowned Louis, so very confused. A long silence settled. “Look, there’s no easy way to say this.” murmured Harry and he looked so in pain. “I like someone else. Like Like like. At least I think I do. I’m not sure. That’s why I need time alone.”

22) Boss Bitch | Explicit | 386,901 words

Harry had always wanted to work for this successful mafia; the mafia that everyone knew, everyone feared. Led by none other than the pahntom “L'eue Courante”, whom everyone knew existed, but had no other clues who this person could be. The only thing known was a high heel the phantom once left. So this person had to be woman, Harry assumend. And man, was he wrong.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[strawberrystepmom]

re: cancer men - the creators and dreamweavers of the zodiac:

okay hi hello. i was reading and am perpetually reading anthony bourdain's books and felt inspired to kind of break down at least astrologically the mystique of the cancer man. this is not a defensive essay but rather a piece that can offer a (hopeful) shift in perspective with regards to how we view these people in our world and our lives.

so the cancer man often has mommy issues. i hope you heard me sigh very loudly saying that because i hate using catch all terms for things that require nuance but it's a concept we are all familiar with based on term alone so it's what i'll use. my rebuttal to this is also - who doesn't? in some capacity? then i remember i'm a water sign and my mom was a cancer and i need to keep this moving on...

mommy issues aren't an indictment, they're most often just an indicator of areas where a person needs more support. perhaps they're a little scatter brained and need a partner who wants to help them get organized. perhaps they're a little emotional and have been told such their entire life to the point they're no longer wanting to be emotional so they need a partner who is willing to be a bending ear.

these areas of emotional need can lead to cancer men specifically tending to really need a lot of strong reinforcement from the women in their lives if they're unwilling to look inward and re-mother themselves so to speak. they can lean on their partners a lot because it's hard to talk about the deep feelings they have. when you agree to love a partner who shows you they need this support, you guys are gonna get mad at me for saying it, but it needs to be provided in a healthy and functional way. if you cannot provide that support do not take up with a man who already has inherent emotional distress just bc he dared to be born under a water sun.

that being said - i implore you, cancer man who may be reading this, to become your gentle inner voice. to reassure yourself that you're doing a good job and that you haven't done wrong. a cancer's fears can seem almost childlike to the uninitiated (do i know what i'm doing? is this going to last forever? what if they change their mind? what if? why? who? when?) but my rebuttal to that is also - all of our own inner monologues are our child selves or someone who hurt our child self. reserve judgement about the maturity of other's emotional processes.

cancers (all genders/identities) instinctively use their protective shell to get them through life. they are symbolized by the crab after all, so they sometimes assume costumes both literal and metaphorical.

in men these may be different personalities - you'll find the doer who shows up to your house with boxes and helping hands when you tell him you're moving, the quiet stoic lover who meets your needs in the most unassuming of ways, the man who is using macho as a defense mechanism who peacocks around and uses emotions as a weapon and finally, the man who is using his own machismo as a charming safe haven for others with hands that only wish to caress and heal (my favorite).

i mean god, a lot of cancer men either lean into the super affable cute sweet guy in hoodies and jeans while absolutely blasting the most insane screamo music in those headphones or they are tattooed, love to look alt because it hides that their top artist for this year was mitski just to give you an idea of the physical identities they may assume.

cancer men crave intimacy. their deep desire for enduring love, family, a place to call home no matter how transient everything else in their lives may feel isn't incidental, it's their birthday candle blow and falling star wish every time they see one.

they just have a tendency to rebuild their shells if they have broken through and start to feel unsafe with someone. they can become combative. the "yeah and what about you?" starts at that point and things can start to break down if you aren't willing to look deeper and realize he's hurting and that's why he's lashing out. it isn't okay, it isn't right, but it's the way cancers (and tbh all water signs why else do we have terror reputations) behave when they are retreating.

cancer men are gifted at making their loved ones dreams come true because almost always, they're making theirs come true as well through the process. they're life builders. commit to him and don't question him and he will give you everything you could ever want if he's done his inner work and he's ready to do so. let him build you the fantasy. embrace a man that loves you so much he wants to give you a babylonian garden of your own.

that being said, it's not your responsibility as someone who loves him to get him to that point so proceed as you wish but be aware that if you give up, you won't get the opportunity to come back once he's all fixed. don't cross a cancer - they're twice as vengeful as a scorpio with a virgo's very, very long memory and you will live your entire life being reminded that you didn't love them when they needed to be loved the most regardless of how true it may or not be. cancers deal in facts and feelings both and oftentimes their feelings are where the facts come from and experiences may vary.

but anyway yeah

[multiheadcanons]

REQUEST- TF2 MERCS AND VALUED TRAITS

i want to make sure this doesn’t get lost in the tags, so i’m gonna put it up top so it can’t. i don’t even know if i got the prompt right, i had a WONDERFUL time writing these and i didn’t stop until i was done. that’s why it’s so stupidly long. i listened to dentures out by the proclaimers as i wrote these, and in my head i couldn’t stop repeating “nostalgia, i love you”. this was such a tender writing experience, to cradle these characters in my hands and write them with a gentleness i don’t give them anymore in my decade of thinking about these fictional men. this is my 14 year old self’s daily imaginings, mature and manifest. i hope the requester likes it. i LOVED getting to write it!

scout: scout likes a sense of humor. anyone he can crudely (or rudely) joke with without it devolving into a fist fight is okay in his book. and he’s so cocky, he needs someone with a good head on their shoulders to keep him in check. it’s hard for him to register when he’s pushing himself, or a situation too far. needs people who can keep up with him. he’s not particularly interested in, nor capable of metaphorically slowing down to keep pace. he is a tone setter. you can either get with it, or get out of the way. if you yourself are a tone setter, or the immovable object to his unstoppable force, you might butt heads. but he appreciates it for what it is. he actually really likes it. he enjoys a mentally stimulating conversation as long as both sides keep it respectful. generally, it’s really hard for scout to vibe with someone that is his total opposite. if you don’t see eye to eye on your views, he can get past that if you both have the same ferocity about your respective things. if you have the same views, it’s okay if you go about it differently than he does. you just have to agree somewhere and he can be flexible as needed. and understand that sometimes he sounds like an ass and is really not meaning to. he can’t be around sensitive people, his brain is not wired for them. and i would like to state the difference between someone with empathy and sympathy and someone who is sensitive. if he is worried about everything coming out of his mouth hurting you, very specifically you, he is going to resent you. that’s not to say if he genuinely says something out of pocket he’s not going to listen, but he knows everything he’s saying can’t be out of pocket.

soldier: soldier is, well, a soldier. there’s two ways to go about it. you can either fall beneath him, or rise above him. both of these are essentially the same thing with one key difference. if you are reliable and trustworthy, and he knows he can tell you something and it’s either going to get done or handled, you are a valued member to soldier’s battalion, regardless of rank. the difference as to whether or not he’s going to see you as an equal is through your battle sense. don’t think he’s not watching. he’s checking your verbal, mental, emotional, and physical battle sense. if you can’t cut someone down within minutes, he will probably not trust you with his largest issues. but he does know that you’re willing to try, and he does give credit for trying. he doesn’t register this himself, but he gets along a lot easier with people who are not high energy. he is really good at carrying conversations, and not very good at fostering social relationships. if you give him an inch he will take that mile, and it makes it easier for him to move at his pace, which is lightning speed. and don’t be afraid to put your foot down if it gets to be too much. he likes moxie.

pyro: pyro, in all reality, past the large flamethrower and flame retardant suit and the abyss of the mask’s goggles, is a very soft person. they do best with people willing to play along with their softness. they register, and don’t really care that they currently have multiple charges they’re fighting the united states government on. they need softness. they need kindness. anyone willing to show that for them consistently, without abandoning them when things get bad (or when the feds come knocking on the door), will always have a best friend in pyro. gift giver, and loves to receive gifts in return. it’s the fastest way to start on the right foot. they’re looking for a partner in their crimes. or at least someone who’s willing to lie to the police about their whereabouts. and this might seem obvious, but if you’re averse to fire they’re not gonna like you; and it’s not you, it’s the fact that your aversion to fire is spitting in their face, ripping their heart out of their chest, throwing it on the ground, calling all of your friends, stomping it into dust, and laughing about it as you walk away, is all. you might be able to offset that with a stellar gift though. have you considered ten gallons of kerosene? or a new ignition for their flamethrower? oh, or maybe some of those packets of dust you put in campfires to change the color. they would love that for battle.

demo: tavish i love you so much man. demo is a fun loving guy with a sharp wit, and a decent balance of his work and home life. he can’t really hang out with anyone who isn’t at least on a similar wavelength. like if we’re using the metaphor of being on the same page, you can’t be any further than a couple paragraphs ahead or behind him. in all forms of his life, really. demo spends a lot of time having to justify to his loved ones that he’s doing right by himself. if he can come to you, tell you something, and you take the moment you need to register what he said, and say “well, alright then. no more information needed. got it.” he might kiss you right there. likes people with the same zest for life. doesn’t have to be bombs, but it helps if you’re also in a dangerous job that kills you and brings you back regularly. you’ve got bonus points if you love the proclaimers. chatty cathy, loves someone who can’t stop talking. he’ll listen to you for hours if you’ve got something worth talking about. which could genuinely be anything. you just have to know what you’re talking about. this man has his what, masters? in chemistry. come at him with a masters degree worth of knowledge at minimum. in something. in anything. unload something on him in an hour or three that took you years to get to the point you arrived at. leave nothing out. you’ll leave him breathless and connected to your hip. expect the same in return. he likes pictures. he will take pictures with you. for the memories. he’ll write on the back, instead of a date and a name, what you spoke about.

heavy: heavy is a big guy, and heavy likes to cut loose sometimes. he needs someone who can handle accidental rough treatment. literally. and sometimes metaphorically. he does his best to not injure the shorter members of the team, but they know at this point that heavy is a man and a half, and to brace themselves if he’s approaching them, in case he’s decided to let loose. he stays away from anyone who is a third of himself or less unless you’re buffering that somewhere that counts. it’s why he likes scout. he might crush scouts lungs, but he has to catch scout first. and he will rarely, if ever, catch scout. and he can never catch scout the same way twice. same reason he has a fondness for pyro. he has no idea what pyro is. just knows pyro is one of the few teammates who can beat his damage output fairly regularly if they’re strategic on the field, and when he’s staring down a gas mask that has bloodier hands than he does, the cat plushie being offered as a gift seems really nice in juxtaposition, and he feels a lot more inclined to be softer when pyro seeks softness. needs people that can take care of themselves, he already has enough responsibility with his family. and he loves his family! that’s why he protects them. you need to protect yourself, you cannot rely on him. if you can show that you are something else if you are not strong, you’ll make a beginning mark at warming him up to you. if you are weak, but dexterous; frail, but strategic and vicious; frightened, but accurate in your judgement all the same— those are all giving him things to rely on with you. a relationship with heavy is a relationship of trust. mutual trust and self-trust. you have to be your own rock before he’ll consider helping you with your weight. or, you can also take the unconventional route and yknow… talk to him. tell him what your plans are. he’ll work with what you give him. he’ll tell you what he needs to see before he’ll give you the results you want. heavy is an easygoing guy! heavy does not invite difficulty where it is not needed! if you want something from him, ask! he is happy to talk! now, he’ll probably get flustered if you approach him and say “i want to date you give me the step by step instructions in detail also i’m a visual learner” but he’ll definitely sit down and chat with you about compatibility, and even if one of you find that the other may not truly be what you want or need in that sense; he might still like you enough to be your friend! he kind of likes being worn down over time.

engineer: engie’s dream idea of a partner, in any sense of the term, is a fresh brewed mug of coffee with a splash of milk on the coaster of his desk every morning and a list of some side quests he can do to get away from his desk and out of his workshop. he is looking for a fort he can take shelter in, metaphorically. engie builds machines because they’re reliable and consistent. his teammates, his friends are reliable and consistent. he is reliable and consistent. he is not someone who considers himself often. so if he’s watching everyone else’s back, he needs someone watching his. he needs someone who’s not gonna bend to his texan charms, or his anger, or his annoyance, or his condescension, and give him a frank reset when he needs it. he needs people who can not only weather a storm, but stand out and scream in it. he needs someone with his best interests at heart. but he doesn’t want a caretaker. he just needs someone who keeps a closer eye on himself than he does. it’s why he can’t entirely hate medic when the doctor can look at him and make an accurate assessment that he needs rest, or sunlight, or to get the fuck out of the base, or protein, or a word of comfort. you can’t be underhanded about trying to look out for him, because he’s from texas; he knows the southern hospitality game much better than you do and he’ll use it to deny deny deny. it’s why scout makes headway with him with his lack of any charisma to circumvent. he is almost never expecting a direct approach from anyone. you can’t buckle to his massive fucking brain and the 5D chess he’s playing in it. you’ve got to be strong, a confident decision maker, unwilling to play semantics with him, willing to bare your arm to a lunging dog and push in further to get the dog to let go when he latches. and don’t question yourself because he can sniff fear out of you like a bloodhound. he almost likes feeling like a robot, of going through the motions he knows. but he likes a firm reminder to look out for himself.

medic: medic is a man who has the world eating out of his palm. handsome, intelligent, charismatic if you don’t talk to him for long periods of time. medic can hate a trait in someone and love it in someone else. and almost everyone he’s met is itching to get in his good graces, so he’s oddly attracted to people who seem to not give a shit about him. he wants to know what’s rattling in that empty peanut head of yours. if he can actually get to know you at your worst first, he’ll be more approving of you at your best. likes someone who’s willing to lay their cards on the table, he will reciprocate. also a chatty cathy. this man is a literal doctor. went, graduated, got the license, subsequently got it taken away and everything. he has so much information running through his brain at any time, he’s always willing to add to his expansive knowledge. unlike demo though, he fact checks. so if you need to know what you’re talking about with demo, you sure as fuck better know with the doctor, because he’ll clock you on it every time, and you can only be wrong so many times before he thinks you’re an idiot. he hates idiots. on the opposite end, he LOVES people who are pathologically passionate. if you don’t have the flair to get down get away from him, because he’ll make you feel bad. gives real “HEY EVERYONE, BOO THIS GUY” energy. if he’s dancing and asks you to join, you dance with him! dance worse! the way his face lights up is euphoric. if you’re mad, go ahead and take it up a notch. scream at him. shove him! medic wants to see what you do. you like him? tell him you love him. whisper it in his ear during a meal as you pass by. he loves being treated like a lab rat. loves being the experiment as much as he loves being the experimenter. people fascinate him in that sense, that relationships are just a big game of doing things to one another and seeing how it unfolds.

sniper: snipes is a guy who can get lost in everyone’s eyes with enough time, but doers will always take him fastest. loves someone with a fire under their ass. take firm grip on him and don’t let go. don’t let go unless your arm is being cut off. then grab on with the other one. his own energy is normally so low that someone who can bring him up to speed is greatly appreciated. and affirming him you’re not going anywhere helps, but he is a man of action. don’t flinch if he asks you to hold the piss jars. don’t hesitate taking his rifle if he’s handing it off to you. don’t hesitate letting off a shot if you can handle it, because he’s watching. he’s noticing what you do and how you react. and the second he gets a whiff of “mmm actually i don’t know if i like this” those walls are BACK UP. you can always be friends though. he likes people with the urge to take initiative. he swoons for anyone who spares him enough “how are you, really”s. he just gets lost in vulnerability so easily. he’ll lose himself when you’re alone together. in your hands. in your eyes. he can’t help how red he gets, he’s living in la la land. he’ll have rom com soundtracks playing in his ears as he envisions what your kids would look like, and you’re just asking if he’s had lunch yet. and all of this would be so cute if he wasn’t staring at you like you’ve whispered knowledge unknown to man in inconceivable language in his ear. but all one on one interactions lead to epiphanies with snipes. it’s easy to become the one person he can’t stop thinking about if you’re around enough. but it’s hard to stick it out with him. he’s on the road a lot, for one.

spy: he’s so messyyyy he loves a manipulator. human relations to him are a very large game of chess. he loves a conniving, cunning, genuinely evil person. loves being used as a pawn, it happens so rarely for him that when the tables get turned baby he is BARKING LIKE A DOG WHERE IS HIS COLLAR. he wouldn’t even like you otherwise! how is he supposed to trust someone who’s not willing to turn on him? he just needs to know where you draw your line in the sand. what is enough for you to toss him to the wayside? because he guarantees he can accomplish it and more. it’s his insane confidence in himself that attracts him to people who could genuinely hope he gets hit by a car and dragged under the chassis for fifty miles without a stoplight in sight. and he plays it so coy. because he knows with enough time he will get the jump on them too. loves people he can play mind games with that won’t negatively backfire on what’s public about whatever character he decides to play. really does best without fluffy emotions getting in the way. those are harder for him to cope with. someone who is just unyieldingly kind to him is a fool. and he distrusts them greatly, because they don’t know the danger they’re in associating with him, and that puts everyone not only around them, but those with confidential identities around him in danger. and hates to mention it, but his son does work with him? and he won’t willingly state this either, but he does consider everyone on the team a… friend, in some sense of that word, except his son, and he will not be happy if foolishness gets them into a situation that’s bigger than he can handle on his own. at least if he is the pawn there’s nobody to ruin in that case but himself. and he willingly and knowingly takes that risk. it’s a vice he genuinely can’t help it he just loves sinister people. loves a villainous vibe. people who are too good should go get someone nicer. and when these doomed romances with literal supervillains implodes in his face, he is not crushed. he is not upset. he is exhilarated. remember how i said with enough time he’s gonna get the jump on them? yeah, he loves to be the beginning of the end like that. he gets a rush from being the omen. it’s not fun when the pawns are nice. someone’s trust will always, eventually, be betrayed with spy, and if you don’t betray him first… that’s on you. and even if you do betray him first… just wait. he’s got something for that.

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

Oh mileven/lumax contrast, how I love you

Billy (a non-blood related family member of max) was against her dating Lucas, not out of any concern about her or overprotection, but because Lucas was black and he was racist. Billy is not shown to be in the right, and the audience does not empathize with him on this topic. Lucas and Max are portrayed as two mature kids/teenagers dealing with an unreasonable teenager/young adult. Billy is shown as a real threat, a real problem they have to deal with.

Hopper (a non-blood related family member of el) was against her dating mike, not out of any prejudice or dislike of him, but out of concern about her and overprotection (justified overprotection. The government is after her and she was also raised in a lab, so all her experiences with human relationships (being a daughter, a friend, a girlfriend) are experiences she’s having for the first time. She barely knows relationships, all she seen is what there’s on tv, she never even seen two real people in love. Plus her relationship with Mike, where they do nothing but make out and not talk is unhealthy). Hopper is shown as a reasonable adult, with a reasonable reason to not want Mike to date El. He’s a character you can empathize with. Mike and el are also shown without fault, they’re not doing anything wrong, but they’re also shown as childish, with Mike joking in serious moments (hopper about to talk with them and “oh oh, I think we’re in trouble”). Hopper is shown non threatening, even comedic.

Lumax breakup between s3 and s4. Not shown on screen, only the effect it has in the characters. Max is visibly depressed, dealing with bad mental (which includes OTHER issues aside from the breakup). She still cares about Lucas, we can see that as she’s listening to his game. Lucas tries to reach out, get her to talk to him, if not as a gf, as a friend, as someone he cares about.

Mileven breakup in s3. Explicitly shown on screen. Immediately el is happy, laughing with max and having a good time, reading magazines and singing. We don’t see any effects in her, and if there are, they’re positive effects. Mike is not in a rush to get el back, he’s shown “moping” on his basement, except he isn’t, he’s complaining, which is different. He’s not shown crying or upset or even affected. If anything he’s shocked, inconvenienced.

Max screaming for Lucas when she got vecna’d. It is Lucas who find the running up that hill cassette, saving her. When she falls, he catches her.

S2 el screaming for Mike while at the upside down, no one arrives. She gets out herself.

Max writes Lucas (and co) one singular letter. I bet you whatever you want than that letter is being safely guarded by Lucas.

El writes mike LOTS of letters, which he seems to dispose of very easily.

Max is not traditionally feminine (clothing, skateboard, video games, etc etc). Lucas (straight man) doesn’t care about this at all, and loves her with and without a dress.

S1 and s2 el was not traditionally feminine. Mike (gay man) was the most attracted to her then. As s3 (metaphor for puberty) went on (and s4) and el got more feminine (longer hair, physical body changing), things in their relationship got worse.

Max living in California and moving to Hawkins.

El living in Hawkins and moving to California.

Lucas falling in love with max regardless of the fact that Billy and many people frown upon interracial relationships in his 80s smalltown.

Mike “realizing his love for el” after Lucas practically told him he does like her, and immediately having Troy appear and make homophobic comments after. Aka, their relationship is technically approved by everyone.

Lucas and Max (and also Dustin and Suzie) singing together. They’re in synch.

Mike singing in s3 while they’re kissing, el explicitly tells the audience she doesn’t like it. They’re not in synch. After the break up, listening to max sing and dance around. She likes it. In s4, Will sings, same song lumax and duzie sang. Huh. Almost like singing shows you who you’re compatible with…

Lumax never said I love you. Max is not insecure, cause Lucas’ actions show he loves her.

El heard mike say he loved her in s3. In s4, she’s insecure about his love for her and hurt, cause his actions don’t show it and she needs verbal proof and reassurance AGAIN.

Mileven/Lumax kiss at the snowball. Only positive parallel between them I can remember. Max is wearing pants, el is wearing a dress. Max is truly having an amazing time, but is el truly having an amazing time?

[theborzoiarebackintown]

My bff had work obligations and asked me to travel with Varus (the puppy’s dad) and take care of him in PA for the Borzoi Club of Delaware Valley’s speciality. He won the whole kit and caboodle, defeating almost 60 other borzoi of quality!

I love this man and am very grateful to be part of his little family ❤️❤️ it was wonderful to get to see him earn such a significant win!

[unproduciblesmackdown]

thinking about how of course billions is about people trapped in eternal battle world, and trapped because they won't ever exit, and don't want to because that's the only way they can define their idea of themself or like move through life, to the degree they have to just create or find another battle if one ends or they don't have enough going on at once or they're unhappy about anything & can only respond to that the only way they'll respond to anything: finding someone to consider a target to Defeat & being like nice, i'm so competent & active as a person, so with any other issues in my life, i'm sure it's not my fault at least

and it's been clear that to be someone at the Center of the show means needing to be inflexible enough to never leave that life, which also probably means never engaging in genuine self-reflection besides like, fuming in distress for 5 sec & then immediately searching for blame for someone else, or calling up your designated moral supporter who'll tell you you're upset b/c you're very complex & sympathetic & maybe if you do [xyz] you'll be able to Keep Winning, so like, don't worry, we'll never get too off track here. you have someone like connerty who cares so much about playing by the rules ft. ethics, but he was also someone completely inflexible who would give a shit like "ha ha you broke the law" and be Defeated b/c like yeah damn you do got him in that situation. he may then have gained the flexibility to throw a punch when he's already imprisoned but he's still just gotta retire & pursue some completely different goals

this in contrast with like, what a coincidence (surely not) that the more flexible characters are the ones who also do introspect & reflect & genuinely think about & question themselves ever, & how even beyond that, being in this world of people who overwhelmingly are thee opposite & aiming for a static sense of self & thus strategy for navigating life & all interactions & situations, the more reflective parties also tend to accept both Blame & the fruitlessness of pushing for more/different/better from the people & relationships & situations they're amongst. those willing to take on responsibility at all surrounded by people casting all of it off, always, w/the former already primed to take blame & the latter primed to be looking to find the blame in anyone else, a powerful mismatch....which allows the flexible parties to also put up with shit for longer lol like if they got fed up that quickly or recognized the dead-end here they'd just leave the show lol. like wow can't believe taylor spent their whole life already stuck having to deal with someone who's so very much like these bullshit central men & those trying to emulate them, & perhaps also then have a lifetime of experience extending endless patience & sympathy with little to no expectations for more from people who put up with such a bullshit man & his effects on everything around him, like, what do you mean taylor's mom hasn't seen them b/c douglas didn't want to see them b/c he wasn't yet motivated enough to have to exercise begrudging shows of basic respect. whilest sure seems like taylor felt more concern & basically stated their responsibility re: trying to make their relationship with their dad work / basically take on the task of making his life work for him according to his sense of himself (genius! who deserves the recognition thusly!) and doesn't seem to take on this role re: their mom, who nevertheless is just presumed to move closer to them along w/douglas. and here's taylor never truly putting their foot down re: wendy, no matter what, able to have no real positive expectations in how wendy treats them or thinks of them, but also always able to extend sympathy / decent treatment themself

thinking of like team ben out here as the Nicer axe cap or mpc people who also happen to be people absorbing the L's, blaming themselves for being at the bottom of the hierarchy & being subjected to the always negative treatment doled out to them accordingly, and, winstonesquely, still generally like extending genuine gestures of amicability, efforts of constructive actual communication, etc, & this being shut down & likely punished by all the people around them who won't handle that kind of thing. that Of Course nobody's actually supported around here, like, at best they'll get some kind of "well you're actually talented & valuable :)...." (so why aren't they already treated in a way such that they're aware of this?) "....so just have more confidence already god!" wherein (a) again that just means it's Their Fault that they're having a miserable time at the hands of others & (b) their having "confidence" doesn't really mean like, an emotional buffer between their sense of self-esteem & the message of inferiority in how they're treated, it has to mean externally acting different in some ways, more like A Winner, more like everyone else. the limits of ben trying to sometimes be a buffer for tuk as that kind of friend/mentor role, where either it simply fails or ben's Help is more unilateral "correction." that generally only any increase in aggressive hostility gets them anywhere, and really not that far.

the way dollar bill could always act however he wanted & they could always clean up his messes / save him from himself / just flatout blame other people for what dollar bill did to them or someone else; success in being a mini axe in that way for sure. dollar bill going off the rails over his literal dollar bill & that's not a problem, he's validated b/c he's upset, & b/c rudy knew he'd be upset it's really all rudy's fault....who just so happens to be more of a loser, what with his glasses & possible masturbation ever and all. whilest even when dollar bill is like every season being shit at his job & life, well, just find a loser to trounce while everyone ignores this, cheers you on, takes on responsibility for fixing things for you, blames the person targeted probably. dollar bill couldn't even do in office transphobic hate crime physical attacks, or that but while yelling the r word at the autistic guy he's already harrassing & threatening, without it being really basically the target's fault, & hey, as long as no investors are watching. and we're still dragging dollar bill back to the office b/c uhhh yeah!!

& then of course there's winston, who, like a loser, says things in real efforts for real communication with others, that they winningly can only bring themselves to respond to as "he's not allowed to talk, that's out of line, i have to punish/deny this to reassert our respective status" except for, sometimes, taylor actually communicating in turn, or even simply receiving the information. winston in a duo with the very winning & worthy rian, being something of a quasirival for 5 seconds but even during then, and since, trying to be amicable to establish an actually positive dynamic, trying for actual communication, engaging flexibly & actively based on her feedback & her terms & etc to try to find some more success; versus rian completely inflexible, unwilling to respond to efforts to communicate, unwilling to have an actual relationship with any flexibility & genuineness in turn, or see winston as a person of course, and engage with real emotions. which is hardly an exclusive response of hers, like, everyone else is just the same, she's just also the one interacting with him more often and personally bullying him & standing next to him & immediately responding with clear contempt when he tries things like earnest expressions of "hey rian could you not do what you just did b/c it makes me feel like shit, probably b/c that's what you're trying to do" and "hey that was cool what you just did b/c it makes me feel like—" b/c like, what a loser. real winners cannot handle engaging with another person as a person. when you can just make up & stick to a narrative about "oh but i don't hate winston, who i feel is inherently beneath me. i wouldn't wanna feel bad about killing him, not when i could feel fine about administering more of a death by a thousand cuts with some other people helping out & hey maybe it was their cut that did it after all....but also if you're like 'pwease' then eh sure" or that winston's got a lesser inner existence anyways, some classic dehumanization, no complexity there, & hurting him isn't real, & it'd never be you in his position anyways! especially the more you're buying into "yeah i'm more of a person / more deserving / more real & sympathetic & correct than him :)" & being cheered on as you act that out. pretty cringe of winston to be earnest, flexible, openly trying & wanting & needing things, sounds bad & silly. unlike the winners around him who really cannot handle him or any of these things about him. of course near equivalent in loserness, tuk, is the person with the realest most amicable relationship with him. both of them too incompetent to realize their mutual failings in this, ha ha, real winners are repulsed & fleeing & can't handle a basic exchange with either of them. and the imbalance re: how little others are willing to give them in interest, consideration, time, words, etc, while they're always trying Too Much re: the disinterested others, totally proves their unworthiness

winston and tuk always having to stay at the bottom of the hierarchy, winston only able to be shitted on even as he extricates himself, ending up surrounded by people who will only act "correctly" according to their superior roles & this mf wags only processing anything as "did that reinforce my being a correct/winning person???" & only responding by trying to reassert to others how much of a winner they are, which requires establishing a loser, and crushing them. winston having recognized / gotten fed up with a bullshit scenario & had realistic expectations of those around them & spent those years being treated like shit yet never crushing an enemy to restore his ego & also spent those years trying to communicate and work with others and share actual info and make actual connections & now independently choosing to make a big shift in his life so that things can be different? is definitely the contemptible loser here while everyone else looks very good faffing around for an episode getting some temporary ego boosts & being very "correct" in every response to winston, even pointing out that rian even noticing something genuine & positive from winston in the absence of it anywhere is first & foremost incorrect, which rian will Also immediately drop in the face of that "well yeah it's more correct to prioritize Anything else. like that he's pathetic & mpc 5ever" like wuh oh rian being doomed from 5x08 "time to embrace acting more correct now" & being truly inflexible from that point on, never had a moment of conflict not resolved by [ignoring that] &/or again just getting someone more correct to declare how it'll be answered. taylor at their most flexible and Taylorest and most juxtaposed with central men & static ossified "winners" when they are also at their best in engaging with winston. taylor Like winston & vice versa in so many substantial & interesting ways, despite their relating to / sympathizing with / devoting much more effort & interest to people more like the central men. that here we are, when taylor might have to give up on Being A Winner, someone who'll walk away with status & resources & a seamless transition into some established business foundation, to really get the wins that matter, against pince, &/or to clock out of a sunk cost factory, &/or to not have strangled every part of themself that can be in conflict with this general situation into eternal dormancy. don't You dare blame latency lol, the taylor who gets to exist outside the conditional "well i guess you're a winner who's very useful to me, like dumping work on you & blaming you if it goes awry. and you can act like a Real winner in the ways that really matter (crushing people)"....is also a taylor who can be rejected & shut down & shut out & have their value denied & be treated shittily despite even knowing they'd be / are good at this shit, superlatively even, & could never feel okay just being regarded as a tool stashed away at someone's disposal. & Has been treated shittly & is liable to accept blame, unilateral responsibility for other's selves & feelings & actions & lives, & marinate in self-loathing. while people who refuse any introspection, questioning, responsibility, awareness, etc, & refuse to handle the least of genuine interactions/relationships with others as real people, are glad to scoff at them & dismiss them & imply or assert their superiority, like, wow have You got a lot to learn, or maybe you can't b/c you're inherently inferior. all just like re: winston!

tl;dr shoutout to the flexible characters who like can & do reflect & change things up actually, just so happening to always be Losing for this in the [only way to win is not to play] arena of fake winners seeing if they can consider themselves superior to everyone else & only even possibly correct always & forever, in the pyramid scheme of social hierarchy & also capitalism

[peridot-tears]

Honestly the fact that Freedom Cry is set fifteen years after Black Flag and Adéwalé is in his forties, and that Edward is either dead or about to die, HURTS ME IN STRANGE AND INDESCRIBABLE WAYS.

[gofishygo]

ok guys but hear me out..,

back before simon was drafted and he was still working in some butcher around the outskirts of manchester, he remembers a little bakery a few blocks down from his shop. although never particularly crowded, he's noticed the older locals go by in the mornings for coffee, kids guided in by their parents after schools to get a snack. but he doesn't seem to lounge in the corner of that cafe for either of those reasons- instead, he finds himself fawning over the pretty baker.

and you're nice to him, too- always smiling when you see him around, voice so sweet when you're at the butchers to buy some meat for the pies, sneakily trying to slip him a discount whenever he goes to buy a sandwich- 'hospitality workers gotta stick together, right?' it's no wonder that he finds himself falling for you, a stupid puppy crush that he tries, and occasionally fails, to suppress. and sometimes, simon lets himself believe you like him too, with the way the blood rushes to your cheeks when you spot him across the shelves, with he notes how you nearly fumble a frothing pot of milk when caught staring at him. it's a little attempt of young love that he thinks will be smothered out as he gets older.

but now it is twenty years later, he is working with the sas, and he is meant to be dead. but simon finds himself strolling his hometown, genuinely surprised that he sees the cafe still up, that he sees you, still working behind the display cabinets. you're older now, more mature, but your smile is just as pretty as it was those years ago. and he sees that glimmer of recognition in your eyes, how your head perks up at the sight of his figure outside of the window.

ghost smothers his cigarette and bins it before walking through the doors. may as well pay the bird a visit.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: The Fawn Instinct.

Pairing: Yandere!BatFam x Reader (DC).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: Implied Non/Con, Implied Dub/Con, Kidnapping, Prolonged Captivity, Social Isolation, Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, and No Actual Incest, But Boy If Those Freaks Aren't Trying. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

If it’d only been Bruce, you might’ve been able to live with it.

You didn’t love him, but you could imagine a world where you tried to. Most of it was circumstance; as upset as you were about the whole kidnapping thing, it wasn’t exactly a Herculean feat to endear yourself to the idea of being a handsome vigilante millionaire’s stay-at-home captive-spouse. You had no room in your heart for the stoic, reclusive, untouchable Bruce Wayne, but you could remember the adoration you’d once held for your masked hometown hero, the pride that’d once given you the force of will to all-but carry a half-conscious man in a torn cowl and a familiar suit into your apartment and lie to the cops when they came knocking. If the conditions had been different, if he’d spent a little more time as something more intimate than a stranger and a little less damning than a captor, then maybe, you could convince yourself to love him. Or, convince yourself to try, at least.

But, the conditions weren’t different, and you’d never quite had the time you would’ve needed to align Bruce Wayne with his more heroic alter ego. It’d been doomed from the start – Icarus jumping from his tower, already knowing his wings were destined to fall apart.

That aside, though, there was the more glaring issue: all his fucking kids.

Calling them kids might’ve been too generous, actually. Only Damian and Duke were younger than eighteen, and as far as you were concerned, they were your saving graces – Duke for meeting the bare minimum requirements for human decency and Damian for adamantly denying you were anything but an unwanted burden on his father. The rest were more-or-less adults, as little as you wanted to acknowledge the nonexistent age-gap between you and your gaggle of stepchildren. They were grown. They should’ve known better.

Tim, for example. He had to be… what? Nineteen? It wasn’t the pinnacle of maturity, sure, but he should’ve known you’d be able to hear your own sheets rustling through the bedroom door, should’ve assumed that you’d know he’d know Bruce would be out on patrol until sunrise. He should’ve known to wait until you were in another wing of the sprawling Wayne estate, somewhere far away from the master bedroom, or better yet, skipped rummaging through your things entirely. You knew better than to dream, though.

The door was still shut, but what was happening behind it and who was responsible were both foregone conclusions.  It was Tim, because of course it was Tim, and he going through your meager possessions, because what else would he wait until Bruce was gone to do? Cringing, you rested your shoulder against the steady wood and knocked gingerly. “…Drake? Are you in there?”

Immediately, the rustling stopped. You went on. “I think Bruce is out, if you need him. Is there something you’re trying to find?”

It was a good out. An easy out. Thankfully, he was smart enough to take the bait. A few seconds later, the door cracked, a disheveled Tim emerging with a dark blush spread over his pale cheeks and his hands shoved conspicuously deep into the pockets of his hoodie. It was a struggle not to roll your eyes. He couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d come out with his dick still in his hand.

Your cheeks ached as you put on your dozenth unstrained, unworried, everything’s-fine-because-why-wouldn’t-it-be smile of the day and moved aside to let him out. “I’ll let him know you were looking for him when he gets home,” you assured, like you couldn’t see the way his bright eyes were fixed to the carpeting. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help. You all are just so heroic – it’s still a little hard to believe I’m a part of this at all.”

“You’re perfect,” he muttered, and you pretended not to hear him, cocking your head to the side. When he corrected himself, his voice was a bit louder, a bit clearer. “Don’t worry, I… I found what I was looking for. You don’t have to bother Bruce.”

“Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. He’s so proud of you and your siblings, after all – it’s practically all he talks about.” A lie, but a fair one to tell. There was no reason Tim should have to know Bruce spent the majority of your time alone with his teeth buried somewhere in your neck, muttering paranoid fantasies about how many different ways you could be killed, mutilated, or otherwise indisposed by the members of his rouges gallery. “Honestly, sometimes, it’s hard not to feel like I’ve been here for years, rather than just a couple of months.”

You only realized your mistake when those bright eyes shot to you, suddenly wide and blown out with desperation. A hand darted towards you, and you stumbled out of the way, but not quickly enough to avoid Tim’s vice-grip on your forearm, to spare yourself the feeling of something cold and wet sinking into your sleeve. “You’re leaving?” The words seemed to slur together, spilling out too quickly to be restrained or refined. “You can’t leave. Bruce won’t be able to handle it, and Steph, she’ll—I mean, security-wise, we won’t be able to make sure you’re—”

Internally, you were keeping up a steady mantra of ‘Thisissogrossthisissogrossthisissogross.’

Externally, by some miracle, your smile never wavered, only growing sweeter as you cut him off with a chirping laugh. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, and then, after a slight lapse, “Would you mind letting go of me? It’s—uh, it’s kind of starting to hurt.”

As if on a switch, he let go of you entirely, pulling away as abruptly as he lashed out. There was a mumbled ‘I’m sorry’, and he made a swift retreat, disappearing around the next corner before you could so much as think about bringing up Bruce, again. You watched him go, only letting your expression fall once you were sure he was out of sight.

Without further caution, you slipped into your bedroom, glazing over the mess of pulled-out drawers, overturned clothes and scattered dirty laundry in favor of falling into bed, rolling onto your chest, and screaming into your pillow as loudly and for as long as your lungs would allow.

~

You tried your best never to be alone. It was a little draining, to be honest – having to keep a running chart in the back of your mind of who you could trust and who you couldn’t, constantly trying to guess whether it’d be safer to be alone with someone or if you were better off taking your chances on your own – but you’d learned your lesson the first time you’d fallen asleep in the Wayne’s at-home movie theater and woken up to Cassandra spread over you like a human weighted blanket, staring unblinkingly at your face and playing half-consciously with your hair. You tried not to leave yourself unguarded, after that.

Alfred was your first choice, Barbra your second, with Bruce as a distant third. Sometimes, you could get away with loitering near Damian (something you hated nearly as much as he did – you could only stand to be addressed as his father’s “jezebel lover” so many times), but Bruce was at one of Damian’s school events, leaving them both conveniently unavailable, and Alfred would be locked inside of his underground shooting range for another hour and a half, an activity you knew better than to interrupt. Meaning, you were on your own.

Meaning, you’d picked a very bad time to need something to drink.

The kitchen was deathly quiet, but you still made an effort to keep your head on a swivel as you made your way carefully to a corner cabinet, like stepping on the wrong tile would trigger a pit trap, or a flurry of arrows, or one of another million terrible things you hadn’t thought were possible before Bruce dedicated himself so entirely to proving you wrong. Mentally, you reviewed your haphazardly assembled schedule as you fumbled with the wood paneling and reached for a mug from the highest shelf. Tim was definitely out, touring local colleges on Bruce’s behest, Step was supposed to be in class, and Dick—

Your fingertips made contact with cool ceramic half a second before another, larger palm wrapped around yours, a broad chest pressing into your back as your mug was stolen out of your hand. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

And Dick was on bed rest with three broken ribs. Right. Of course.

You really shouldn’t have bothered leaving your room at all. Suddenly, dehydration didn’t sound like such a bad way to go.

“Let me get that, baby bird.” You cringed at the petname, but nodded, letting Dick confiscate your mug and with it, your ability to make a swift exit from a conversation you’d rather not have. “Green tea, right? I know it’s your favorite.”

“On the mark as always, Dick.” There was just enough enthusiasm in your voice to overshadow the despair. You waited until you heard the muted click of an electric kettle before turning around and settling against the counter. “I wish you wouldn’t dote on me, though. I already feel useless enough as it is.”

“Don’t sweat it, I’ve been going stir-crazy all week.” He flashed you a quick smile – tooth and beaming – before pulling open the silverware drawer and rummaging through it, like Alfred would keep his teabags with his cutlery. He was topless, wearing the same pair of black sweatpants he must’ve slept in. He didn’t plan to go out, clearly, and it wasn’t like you had much of an alternative. “This is just the basics, too. For a while there, I had your breakfast, lunch, and midnight snack preferences memorized.”

You forced yourself to smile, albeit, not as brightly as him. “…did you, now?”

“Mhm. B had us running in-person surveillance before he finally bit the bullet and brought you home, and—” He cut himself off with a sudden laugh, shaking his head. “And, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part. Oops.”

Mercifully, the kettle whistled before you could start to consider the implications, and you reached behind you, fishing two bags out of a teacup-shaped jar. It was easy enough to edge him out of the way, but not having to worry about pretending he’d ever made himself a cup of tea meant he could devote more of his energy to talking, so you still managed to lose, in the end. “He’s stingier with the surveillance footage, now. I’ve never seen him so jealous.”

“He can definitely be a little overprotective.”

You tried to keep your tone even, polite, but Dick was like his siblings – quick to action and slow to take a hint. A hand curled around the counter next to you, and you dumped an extra spoonful of sugar into the darkening water. “It’s just us in the manor, right?”

Another spoonful, just to be safe. “I think Alfred is—”

“Out for the day. Wayne Enterprise emergency – I let him know as soon as he finished down in the range.” In your peripheral, you watched his other hand come to rest on your opposite side, caging you in. “I wouldn’t mind the company, if you were starting to get lonely.”

Another spoonful. It’d be too sweet to drink, but anything not to have to look at him. “I’m afraid wouldn’t be a lot of fun, Grayson. Honestly, I was just planning on getting a little sle—”

“That’s perfect,” he cut in, too eager to wait his turn. “I’m a great cuddler.”

You curled your hand around your mug, hoping the warmth would be enough to ground you. Instead, it only burnt your palm, and for a second, you could imagine a world where your teeth weren’t buried in the plush of your cheek, where you didn’t have to remind yourself that turning around and splashing boiling-hot water on an all-but superhero’s face wasn’t a good idea. For a second, you genuinely considered it.

And then, a sound not totally dissimilar to thunder filled the kitchen; loud enough to leave your ears ringing and your adrenaline spiked. You flinched into yourself, but it only took a moment for fear to shift to relief as you noticed the bullet lodged into the wood less than an inch from your head. Your expression lit up just as Dick’s fell.

Without waiting for him to let you go, you slipped away – sprinting across the kitchen and throwing yourself into Jason’s – brave, bold, beautiful Jason – chest. He caught you one hand and finished re-holstering his handgun with the other, laughing as you hugged him as tightly as you could manage. Dick huffed, playful offense failing to mask real agitation, and you felt Jason brace against you. “Jerk off and shut the fuck up, Oedipus.”

Dick’s smile turned uneasy. “It’s good to see you too, man.”

“I didn’t come here for you,” he snapped, as short-tempered with his siblings as you wished you could be. He looked down, holding you that much tighter. “How’s my best girl holding up?”

“I’m just fine, Jason. I do think we have to have a talk about how you treat your brother, though.” You glanced over your shoulder to Dick. “A little privacy? You really ought to be staying off your feet, too.”

Reluctantly, Dick slinked out of the kitchen, hesitant to go but eager to nurse his wounds. You only went on once you were sure he was gone.

“It’s been awful. I found another hidden camera in my bedroom, and I think Tim’s tapping my—”

“I’ll do a sweep.”

He let you go, but you caught his arm. “Please, I know it’s important, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing. It was irrational – the way you let your guard down so quickly around Jason. The mask never slipped around anyone else, whether you were afraid of them or they were one of your rare, precious exceptions. Jason existed outside of the Wayne family, though, outside of Bruce’s corrupting influence. He wasn’t going to hurt you. More importantly, he wasn’t going to let anyone else hurt you, either.

“But I really don’t want to think about that, right now,” you finished. “Just… just for a little while, alright? I don’t want to constantly feel like I’m walking on eggshells, at least not while you’re here.”

Jason stood strong for all of three seconds. With the fourth, he sighed, buckled, and shook his head, his exasperation brimming with affection. “How long until Bruce gets home?”

“Six more hours. He’s not due to check-in for another three.”

“I’ve got my bike out front. How do you think he’d feel about a joy ride?”

And just like that, you lit up. “It’d give him a heart attack.”

Jason pulled you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Perfect.”

~

Unfortunately, Jason’s visits were few and far between. You had to find ways of fending for yourself, in the downtime.

“I miss the city.”

Bruce glanced over his shoulder, gaze flickering over you before returning to the buttons of his dress-shirt. You sunk that much deeper into the mess of sheets and pillows, taking some small amount of solace in the way the cool silk felt against your warm skin.

(Sex wasn’t something Bruce came to you for often, but when he did, you gave it to him willingly, albeit with no more enthusiasm than was absolutely necessary. You rarely enjoyed it and always regretted everything you did or said during the act, but it was better than the alternative. Part of you trusted him, trusted Batman, enough to believe that he’d take your refusal for what it was, that you wouldn’t have to say anything more than ‘no’. The remaining overwhelming majority was able to look around you, to remember the way he’d held you down as he forced a needle stocked with medical-grade sedatives into your throat, and recognize that your opinion probably didn’t mean very much to him. Still, you couldn’t let things get that bad. Even if you had to surrender every other facet of your being, you couldn’t let things get that bad.)

“You hated the city. You said your landlord was a tyrant and that even the criminals were living paycheck-to-paycheck.” And then, after a second of thought, “And that there were more rats in Gotham than people.”

“Well, he was, they are, and you know I love animals.” You pushed yourself up, keeping a sheet bunched against your chest as you slumped against the headboard. “I was tired and overworked – you could see that. But, things would be different if I was staying with, say, my wealthy trillionaire boyfriend in one of the penthouse apartments that I know he has because his youngest son got in trouble for bragging about them in school last week?”

Bringing up his kids was a dirty tactic – the fastest way to get Bruce’s undivided attention. This time, when his eyes shifted in your direction, they stayed there, and he made his way back to your side of the bed. He collapsed next to you and, with no resistance on your end, pulled you into his lap. He didn’t seem to care whether or not his immaculately tailored, freshly pressed suit was creased in the process, but you did your best not to squirm. “You want to leave the manor?”

The first half of a frown tugged at the corner of your lips. “That’s not what I—”

“Elevated pulse, avoidant eye-contact,” he muttered. “Something’s bothering you.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t wrong, either, but still. You would’ve preferred to be asked.

“…it’s your family,” you admitted, feigning guilt. “They’re all—” Horny, depressed, creepy little orphans. “—great kids, but it’s just been so much so quickly, and I think it… I think it might’ve been too much too quickly. For them and for me.”

“They adore you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Dick was close to moving back in when I decided it was too dangerous to leave you to your own devices.”

You melted into his chest, sighing. Reflexively, he curled around you – a good thing, if a bit claustrophobic. Bruce liked feeling like a shield between you and harm, between you and the world he couldn’t control. Hopefully, eventually, he’d realize he had more to shield you from than greedy landlords and villains who always seemed to be just out of sight. “It’s not that easy. It’s just been such a rocky adjustment period, and…” You curled your hand around his wrist and squeezed, hoping the force would be enough to communicate what you couldn’t put a word to. “I’m really afraid something bad might happen, Bruce.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider it. There was a kiss to your shoulder, solemn and lingering, then another to your cheek, more fleeting. “I’ll talk to them. They’ll give you space, if they’re told to.”

If he told them to. You doubted you held much authority, here. “And the apartment in the city? On the highest floor, tall enough to see from Gotham to New York?”

Bruce smiled, and your heart soared.

Then, he started talking, and it crashed back down, dying upon impact. “Once I know it’s safe for you, sweetheart.”

There was another kiss, this one to the nape of your neck, then another, lower down on your spine. A calloused hand slipped underneath the sheet still hugged against your chest, and you allowed it to.

Honestly, it would’ve been kinder if he’d cut you into pieces and fed you to the wolves himself.

~

You made a run for it as soon as the arguing started.

Arguing, not yelling – the distinction was minor, but significant. Yelling would’ve meant an injury, or a mission gone wrong, or something else that signaled a sudden complication that couldn’t be smoothed over with sugar-sweet sentimentality or orders issues with an ice-cold strictness. Yelling would’ve meant Bruce didn’t mind letting you overhear, which usually meant you didn’t need to be involved. Arguing, all hushed whispers and hissed explanations and vague warnings, was different. Arguing meant, more often than not, that they were arguing about you.

It was Tim’s fault, as far as you could tell. Barbara had been the one to find the conspicuously encrypted file on one of Dick’s civilian devices, the one to mention it to Stephanie as a point of concern who went to Tim within the hour, but it was still his fault. He’d gotten Bruce involved, let his need for approval tip the tenuously balanced scales that kept his family whole and you safe. He’d talked them all into waiting until Dick was close enough to confront in-person, stopping by for his weekly equipment pick-up and check-in. He was the reason you’d gotten close enough to hear something about ‘pictures’ and ‘inappropriate use of reconnaissance material’ before fleeing to the mansion’s foyer – the only part of the house you could be sure wasn’t occupied. If you were lucky, you’d only be there for half an hour or so, enough time for them to compromise on some non-solution and return to your carefully maintained status quo. If you weren’t, you’d spend the early hours of the morning—

Something small but forceful hit the nearest window, shortly followed by another projectile, then another. The glass was too thick and the world outside too dark to make anything out, but you didn’t need to see anything to know who’d come to your rescue.

Jason.

You rushed to the door, then hesitated. Jason would only get a slap on the wrist for luring you out of the estate, and Bruce could never bring himself to be that strict with you, but now might’ve been a bad time. Tensions were already running high. Your little disappearing act wouldn’t—

A sudden rush of footsteps clattering through the ceiling from the floor above you, hushed voices raised just to the point of audibility. None of it was entirely coherent, but Dick’s came the closest. You managed to make out a half-choked “If you’d just let me—” before someone cut him off.

With your better judgement reduced to buzzing static, you pried open the closer of a pair of huge, mahogany doors and slipped out of the estate entirely.

Of course, Jason was waiting outside, a small stock of pebbles still in his left hand and, of course, you threw yourself at him, letting him catch and spin you twice before setting you back onto your feet with an airy laugh. A pitch-black sports car was waiting at the end of the driveway, the engine purring loudly enough to drown the rest of the world out. “Rough night?”

“You have no fucking idea,” you muttered, breathless. “I don’t care where we go, just get me out of here.”

There was a reason Jason was your favorite. There was no argument, no prying, just his arm around your waist as he herded you into the passenger seat. Fifteen minutes and a little over fifty miles later, the mansion was little more than a dull glow on the horizon, and you could pretend you’d stopped thinking about Bruce entirely.

There was no effort to make conversation, as bad as you felt about pulling Jason into your prolonged tryst with self-pity. Instead, you sunk into the leather of his seat and fixed your gaze on the passing landscape, clinging to any detail you were able to latch onto as it flew by. It was possible, between the subways and boarded-over windows and perpetually overcast skies, to go days without seeing the sun in Gotham. Still, your life had felt brighter there than it ever did in Bruce’s estate.

Jason turned down a road you didn’t recognize, and you managed to find your voice. “Are we going into the city?”

“Even better.” He flashed you a smile, the engine purring as he accelerated. “You’ll like it, I promise. Just sit tight.”

As if you had much of a choice.

Road gave way to forest, forest to empty plains, and empty plains to the dilapidated remains of what you could only label as a long-abandoned amusement park – like Disney World if there’d been some terrible, possibly nuclear accident followed by twenty or so years of absolute neglect. Jason’s car glided past the rusted remains of an iron gate, past the corpses of rides buckled under their own weight, and came to a stop in front of a paint-stripped merry-go-round almost entirely sheeted be vines and weeds and overgrowth. You let out a low whistle as he threw the gear shift into park and, for the first time in any vehicle you’d ever shared with him, pulled his keys out of the ignition. He’d always left the engine running while visiting the mansion, but then again, you’d always been pretty eager to make a hasty escape, too.

“I love it, Jason. I’ve always wanted to get tetanus from a broken down carnival.”

“A fair, actually,” he corrected, slipping his keys into his jacket pocket. Like he expected you to try and steal them while his back was turned, or something. “My parents used to take me here, before I met B. There weren’t a lot of Ferris wheels after that.”

There was a short lapse, the sound of lips moving against teeth. You made the mistake of humming, of glancing over to him, of leaving yourself open for another question, and Jason, as nice as he was, was more than happy to take advantage of you. “So, when did you and B start…”

He trailed off, drumming his fingers against the wheel. You filled in the rest with a breathy chuckle. “When did I start sleeping with your dad?”

He jabbed an elbow into your side. “First of all, you can admit you’re fucking him or call him my dad, but you’ve gotta pick one.” You opened your mouth, already ready to spit out some dumb joke about what Bruce would’ve preferred to be called, but Jason cut in, sniping your stupid joke out of the air. “Secondly, answer the question. I get enough of your diversions back at home.”

“Being a buzzkill must run in family,” you sighed, but gave in quickly enough. “It happened once before the whole kidnapping thing, when he was staying at my apartment and sleeping off a broken leg. I hadn’t even seen him without his mask on at that point, but I figured it was a sign – destiny, or something.” You did your best to smile, slumping against the door. “It was dumb. He gave me a couple weeks after bringing me to the estate, mostly because of the crying and stuff, but things started up again pretty quickly.”

“Do you… like it?”

“Do you like asking about your dad’s sex life?” He flinched back, and laughing, you went on. “I guess I don’t care. There’s not a lot else to do.” You swallowed. “Would it matter if I didn’t?”

For someone with so many questions, he didn’t leave a lot of time for yours, the hypocrite. Moving on swiftly, he asked, “And the others, have they…?”

“No.” And then, after a beat, “Not yet.”

He seemed to relax, at that. His back was still straight, his shoulders still squared, but his grip on the wheel loosened, his jaw unclenching ever so slightly. You tried the handle – locked. Obviously. As if you’d ever get that lucky.

His voice was soft, sweet. The kind of tone you’d use on a child, or an animal, or a doll. “This would probably be easier in the backseat, right?”

“Let me out.”

“So you can go where,baby? It’s just us out here.” He laughed, resting a hand on your thigh. You slammed your shoulder into the door. It didn’t budge. “Hey, hey, this doesn’t need to get rough. I’m not going to be like Dick. The others – they’ll do it wrong, treat you like a cut of meat they have to get to before anybody else. I just need to make sure you get out of this in one piece.”

Nails embedded in leather, body crammed as far from him as you could force it be. You weren’t hyperventilating, but only because you’d stopped breathing entirely. “Let me out, Jason.”

“I love the way you say my name. It’s pretty, and delicate – just like you.” He sighed, shook his head. “I know you don’t get it, but I’m just trying to take care of you, like you’ve been taking care of me for the past few—”

“Stop acting like I’m your mom.” A sob fractured the final syllable, another bubbling up from deep in your chest a moment later. Your body was beyond the point of rationality, but the soft, preservational part of your mind wasn’t so beyond the point of seeking refuge. There was a way out of this, as ghoulish as it seemed. You couldn’t stop it from happening, but you could make it better. You’d regret it in an hour, when it came time to explain yourself to Bruce, but what happened in an hour didn’t matter, not if you couldn’t survive the next few minutes.

You might’ve done it, too – or, you might’ve tried, at least. You wanted to. You planned to. And yet, when you opened your mouth, there was only one thing you could seem to say. “I don’t want to do this, Jason.”

His nails bit into your thigh, his smile easing at the corners. For a second, you almost thought he’d pull away. For a second, you almost thought he’d sigh, straighten back up, and admit this was all part of some cruel, unfunny joke that the two of you would remember fondly, later on.

Then, he laughed and leaned forward, lips brushing against the top of your head. You felt him speak before you heard his voice, but the cloying reverberation alone was enough to tell you that you would’ve been better off never saying anything at all.

“Welcome to the family, sweetheart.”

[focusonkayjay]

right here, yet so far away | oneshot

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: exes to lovers, ceo! jungkook x kindergarten teacher! reader, angst, smut, fluff

Word Count: 19.4k (my hands slipped girl)

Chapter Warnings: mature language, unprotected sex (pls be safe), oral (f. receiving), mentions of an accident, coma, violence (lmk if i missed anything)

A/N: hello cuties. this is a special post in honor of me hitting 300 followers. i cant believe the immense support i have received when it's only been a week. thank you so much for consuming my work and supporting me. also please note, the text in italics are for dream sequences or flashbacks. P.S i know people don't just instantly recover after a long coma, but in this story it's just heavy plot armor, so kindly understand.

//

“But baby… please just…” Jungkook’s voice cracks as he jogs to catch up, his hand reaching out for yours. You swat it away without hesitation, the sting of rejection hitting him harder than any words ever could.

“Jungkook, stop it.” you say firmly, your tone sharp enough to cut through his soul. He freezes, his wide eyes searching yours for answers.

“But baby, just tell me why? We were doing so good… just yesterday, you... you said you loved me. Please, you can’t just... leave like this.”

He tries to observe your expression, hoping to convince himself that this is just some cruel joke. But there’s no softness in your eyes, no flicker of doubt. Only a cold, unyielding resolve.

“Don’t you understand?” you scoff, folding your arms tightly across your chest. “I’m tired of you, Jungkook. I’m tired of us.” His breath hitches, disbelief flashing across his face. “Stop. Don’t say that. You don’t… you don’t mean that.”

“I do.” you insist, each word a dagger to his heart. “I mean every word of it. I’m done with you. This whole relationship… it’s not going anywhere. It’s a waste of time, and I just… I can’t, Jungkook. We have to break up.”

His shoulders slump, and his chest rises and falls as though the air has been knocked out of him. He stands frozen, staring at you, desperate to find some hint of hesitation in your expression. But all he sees is resolve… or at least, what you’re determined to show him.

“Why?” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You stare at him blankly. "Because I don’t love you anymore.” you reply, your voice unwavering. Jungkook flinches as if struck. His lips part, but no words come out. And when you turn around and walk away, the sound of your retreating footsteps echoes in his ears, louder than any goodbye, as your body disappears into the darkness.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

The shrill wail of the alarm slices through the silence, and Jungkook's eyes harshly open. He gasps for air, his chest heaving as the nightmare clings to him like a second skin.

It’s always the same nightmare. The same scene. The same words. The same look on your face. The same crushing weight in his chest.

He drags a hand down his face, the coolness of his palm doing little to soothe him. His dark hair sticks to his forehead, damp with sweat, and he blinks up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above him.

For a moment, he just sits there, the silence of his apartment wrapping around him like a cold blanket. A single tear trickles down his temple as images of you flash in his mind, one after the other. His phone buzzes on the nightstand... a reminder of the meetings and deadlines awaiting him, but he doesn’t move.

Four months. It’s been four months since you walked away, and he still doesn’t understand why.

He remembers the day of the break up like it was yesterday. The scene is so vividly planted in his mind that he even sees it in his sleep. He can’t get rid of the way you looked at him… like you despised the sight of him, like you truly didn’t love him anymore.

He still doesn’t have his answers. Why did you leave so suddenly? Why did your heart just decide it didn’t want him anymore? The questions linger in his mind, unanswered, gnawing at him like a constant ache he can’t escape.

Jungkook remains rooted on his mattress, the weight of memories pressing down on him as he recalls the first time he saw you. It was over two years ago, but when he recollects it, it feels so vivid, like it's happening in the present.

He had been reluctant to attend an event that was scheduled at a local kindergarten nearby. Exhausted from a long flight back from the States, he’d tried to get out of it. But his assistant, understanding the importance of his role as the CEO, insisted that he'd attend it regardless.

His company wasn’t just about selling food products, it was dedicated to promoting healthy living, especially for children. They organized events to educate kids on the importance of good nutrition, partnered with schools to provide nutritious meals, and created fun, interactive programs to get children excited about eating right.

Though Jungkook wasn’t keen on spending his afternoon with a room full of energetic kids, he went anyway. The workshop had already started and the moment he stepped into the classroom, ready to grab the attention of the kids, he suddenly spotted you.

You were standing at the front of the room, a soft smile on your face as you engaged with the children, laughing with them and cracking jokes. Your energy was infectious, and the way you moved with such ease around the kids made his heart skip a beat. There was something so warm and genuine about you, something that immediately drew him in.

It wasn’t just the way you looked... though you were undeniably beautiful, but how you carried yourself, the kindness that radiated from you, and how at home you seemed in this world of tiny hands and laughter. Jungkook had never been the type to believe in love at first sight, but the moment his eyes landed on you, something inside him shifted.

He had been smitten, captivated in a way he couldn’t explain. His thoughts had scattered as he watched you, his mind far from the speech he was supposed to be giving. It was almost embarrassing how quickly you had captured his attention, and yet he couldn’t look away.

It wasn’t until later, when he was preparing to leave, that he finally found the courage to approach you. He had been nervous, unsure of what to say. But the moment you looked at him, a simple greeting from you was all it took.

Your smile was enough to melt any lingering doubt he had. He introduced himself, his voice slightly shaky but confident enough to make a lasting impression. And you, with that same gentle smile, responded in kind words, immediately making him feel at ease.

He had no idea at that moment that this chance encounter would change his life in the best way possible.

Now, laying in his bed, Jungkook smiles bitterly, remembering how it all started. How he had the most beautiful relationship with you for around a year and three months. How one decision, one visit to that kindergarten, led to everything he lost.

He still can't understand why you left him the way you did, without explanation, without any chance for him to fix whatever went wrong. The image of your face that day... the coldness, the finality, haunts him still.

Despite the whirlwind of thoughts clouding his mind, Jungkook forces himself to push them aside. He stares at the ceiling for a moment longer, allowing the weight of the memories to settle, before finally making the decision to get up.

He knows he can’t linger in this state forever. The day is waiting for him, and he can’t afford to let his emotions hold him back. With a sigh, he swings his legs off the bed and plants his feet firmly on the floor. The familiar coldness of the hardwood beneath his feet is grounding, and for a brief moment, he feels a sense of control over the chaos in his mind.

The early morning light filters through the blinds, casting a soft glow on his room. He moves to the bathroom, running cold water over his face, hoping it will somehow shake the fog from his thoughts. It’s a futile attempt, but it’s enough to snap him into the present, if only for a few minutes.

Jungkook stares at his reflection in the mirror, taking a deep breath. His mind is still heavy, but he’s learned over the years to compartmentalize, especially when it comes to work. He’s the CEO and his company can’t afford to be distracted by his personal life. No matter how much his heart aches, there’s a bigger picture to focus on.

//

You glance at the kids, focused on their coloring books, and a soft smile tugs at your lips. They’re adorable, each one lost in their own little world, their tiny hands gripping crayons as they carefully add color to their drawings. You walk around the room, quietly observing their work, admiring the little bursts of creativity.

As you pass by the window, your gaze drifts outside, where a few children are running and playing on the soccer field. You let out a sigh, your fingers subconsciously tracing the pendant of your necklace.

It’s the only thing that connects you to him, to the one that got away, to the one you let slip right through your fingers, even when it hurt to do so. You close your eyes for a brief moment, and his image floods your mind. The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled, the warmth of his touch, the comfort of his presence.

You miss him so badly, your chest tightening with the weight of it. But you push the feeling down, swallowing the ache in your heart. You remind yourself why it had to end, why you had to walk away. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

As you stare at the bleachers stand by the green field, a vivid and unpleasant memory creeps up your mind.

"Break up with him."

Junghyun's voice was calm, his eyes fixed on the empty soccer field ahead. The chilly evening breeze brushed past your hair, but it did little to cool the heat rising in your chest. You turned to look at him, disbelief written all over your face.

"What?" you asked, your voice carrying a mix of confusion and irritation. Junghyun was Jungkook's older brother, and his unexpected visit had left you completely on edge.

You had only met this man once before, a fleeting encounter when you accidentally bumped into him outside Jungkook’s apartment one morning. Seeing him now, unannounced at your workplace, caught you completely off guard.

"Break up with him, Y/N." he repeated, turning to face you this time. His gaze was piercing, his tone unyielding. "You know you two belong to completely separate worlds. Jungkook isn’t in love... he’s just infatuated. And frankly..." he continued, his voice dropping with disdain. "You’re nothing but a distraction."

You stared at him, your mind reeling from the audacity of his words. The traffic noise in the far distance felt like static compared to the ringing in your ears. "Are you serious right now?" you managed to say, your tone sharper than you intended.

Junghyun didn’t flinch. "I’m completely serious. Do you think this little fling of yours will lead to anything? Jungkook has responsibilities... he has a company to run, a legacy to uphold. You’re a kindergarten teacher, Y/n. A sweet girl, sure, but not someone who can keep up with him."

His words stung, but you refused to show it. "Jungkook loves me." you stated firmly, your voice unwavering. "I know how he feels about me. So whatever you’re trying to pull, it won’t work."

Junghyun scoffed, shaking his head. "Love? You call this love? He’s smitten, sure, but that doesn’t mean it’ll last. You’ll only hold him back."

You clenched your fists, your chest tightening with frustration. Every instinct in you wanted to yell at him, to tell him how wrong he was, how little he knew about what you and Jungkook shared.

You breathed heavily, your eyes narrowing as they locked onto him. "I'm going to pretend we never had this conversation." you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil bubbling inside. Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel, stepping off the bleacher stands and ready to head back inside.

“Hanyung Hospital.” Junghyun’s voice suddenly rang out, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your breath hitched, and your eyebrows furrowed as your back remained turned to him. A wave of unease settled over you, his words striking a chord you wished he hadn’t found.

“Isn’t that where your brother is admitted?” His tone was sharp, laced with a smirk you didn’t need to see to recognize.

Slowly, you turned to face him, your heart racing as panic flashed across your features. Had this man done a background check on you? Your mind reeled at the thought, fear and anger coursing through you in equal measure.

Junghyun’s smirk deepened as he saw the panic etched on your face. “Guess I know a little too much about you, sweetheart.” he said smoothly, his words dripping with a smug satisfaction.

Your fists clenched at your sides, but your voice caught in your throat. The realization that he had gone to such lengths made your skin crawl, and a sense of dread settled in your stomach.

"See, this is the problem with you lowlifes..." Junghyun sneered, his voice dripping with disrespect. "You have so many weaknesses, yet you never stop dreaming big." He let out a cruel laugh, his eyes glinting with amusement at your stunned silence.

You stared at him, your throat tightening as if the words you wanted to say were caught in a vice. "I heard he’s been in a coma for four years." he continued, his tone casual, almost mocking.

Your eyes stung with unshed tears, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. The mention of your brother... the very core of your vulnerability, felt like a dagger twisting in your heart.

“Maybe I should make sure this coma lasts forever—”

"What?" The word burst out of you before he could finish. Panic surged through you, visible in the way your breathing quickened. Junghyun’s smirk widened, his eyes lighting up with satisfaction at your reaction. He relished the fear and desperation etched across your face, feeding off the control he had over the situation.

"Leave my brother out of this." you managed to say, your voice low but firm, fists clenched tightly at your sides. "This has nothing to do with him."

You forced yourself to regulate your breathing, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions that were threatening to spill over. But deep down, you knew exactly what this man was doing. And it felt like a threat too enormous to escape.

Junghyun’s smirk only deepened, his silence more unsettling than words. It was as though he reveled in watching you squirm under the weight of his insinuations.

Your mind raced, every possible scenario flashing before you. The influence Jungkook’s family wielded wasn’t just intimidating, it was terrifying. They were rich, powerful, and connected in ways you could only imagine.

For all you knew, they could probably make someone disappear without a trace. And standing face-to-face with Junghyun, you started to think that was your chilling reality.

You swallowed hard, meeting his gaze with as much resolve as you could muster, but the unease in your chest lingered. You felt trapped, cornered by an enemy who knew just where to strike to hurt you the most.

"Well, sweetheart, I want to leave him out of this too..." Junghyun sighed, his tone mockingly sympathetic. "And you know exactly what you need to do for that to happen."

His words struck like a hammer, each syllable weighing heavier than the last. You felt your whole world collapsing around you, the walls closing in with no way out. You felt suffocated. Cornered. Powerless.

Your gaze dropped to your feet, tears pooling in your eyes despite your desperate attempts to hold them back. The fight within you slowly crumbled, leaving only the unbearable weight of his ultimatum.

You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you fought to keep yourself composed.

"I'll break up with him." you whispered finally, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. A tear slipped down your cheek, the first crack in the dam as the reality of your surrender settled in.

Junghyun stepped down from the bleacher stands, his slow footsteps growing louder in your ears. You didn’t move, your feet rooted to the ground as if the weight of your decision had physically anchored you.

He stopped in front of you, and you felt his presence, his amusement radiating like poison. A soft laugh escaped him, sending shivers down your spine.

"Now that was easy, wasn’t it?" he mocked, patting your head like you were a child who had just followed orders. Your jaw tightened, teeth gritting at the humiliating gesture, but you remained silent.

"And this goes without saying, but... Jungkook should never hear about this encounter." Junghyun said, his voice low and taunting as he stepped closer.

You didn’t respond, your throat too tight and your mind too fogged with fear and anger to formulate a reply.

He smirked at your silence before brushing past you, deliberately bumping into your shoulder as if to remind you just how insignificant he believed you to be. The force was slight, but it felt heavier, laden with the weight of everything he’d taken away from you in the matter of mere minutes.

The chilly breeze cut through the quiet, and you felt it settle deep into your bones, a reminder of just how cold the world could be.

"Miss Choi!" a little voice pierces through the haze of your flashback, pulling you back to reality. Your eyes shift from the bleacher stands outside to the source of the voice. A little girl waves her broken color pencil in the air, her tiny face scrunched in distress.

You force a smile, the corners of your lips lifting as you walk towards her. "Give me that, let me sharpen it for you, Sera." you say softly, patting her head. She nods cutely, her eyes wide with trust and gratitude.

You exhale deeply, the weight in your chest still pressing down as you make your way to the trash can. As the sharpener scrapes against the pencil, you think to yourself. Stop dwelling on the past.

You knew how deeply you felt for Jungkook. He was more than just a fleeting love... he was a part of you, your safe place. But the weight of Junghyun's threat had been too much to bear. It wasn’t a fight you could win, not against soemone as powerful as him.

The memory of that day gnaws at you, the helplessness, the bitterness of making a decision you despised with every fiber of your being. But what choice did you have?

Handing the pencil back to Sera, you muster another soft smile. Her joyful expression tugs at your heart, a stark contrast to the storm inside you.

All you can do now is hope that Jungkook is living a happy life, far from the shadows of the truth that forced you apart.

//

Jungkook adjusts his position in the sleek leather chair, trying to focus on the ongoing meeting. The conference room hums with the low murmur of voices as his team discusses the logistics of their next community outreach initiative.

The large screen at the front displays a vibrant presentation, but his mind drifts, struggling to stay anchored in the moment.

“Mr. Jeon.” Eunwoo, the Chief Operating Officer, speaks up, pulling him back to reality. “We’re finalizing the details for the event at the Sunflower Orphanage this weekend.” he says, his tone calm but purposeful.

“It’s part of our ‘Healthy Futures’ program.” Eunwoo continues, “Where we teach the kids about nutrition and provide them with tools to build healthier habits.”

Jungkook nods, his jaw tightening slightly. He taps his pen against the notepad in front of him, the blank page mirroring his lack of focus. “Good. Ensure we send enough materials for the interactive sessions. I’ll review the activity plans later today.”

Eunwoo presses on. “We’re also organizing a cooking demonstration for the older kids and distributing care packages with nutritious snacks and recipe guides. It might be a good idea for you to attend. I think the kids would really enjoy meeting you.”

Jungkook exhales softly, running a hand through his hair. Public appearances at these events are part of his responsibility, something he takes seriously. Yet, the thought of being surrounded by bright-eyed children feels heavier than usual, a strange weight pressing against his chest.

“I’ll check my schedule.” he replies, his tone measured, masking the unease he can’t quite shake.

As the meeting concludes, Jungkook steps out of the conference room, loosening his tie as he makes his way towards his office. The familiar click of shoes on the polished floor follows close behind, signaling his secretary, Jimin, is trailing him.

“Your schedule is free, Mr. Jeon.” Jimin remarks, a teasing edge in his voice. “It’s literally the weekend.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, letting out a long sigh. “I know, but I just don’t feel like going.” he mutters, his stride purposeful as he heads towards his cabin.

Jimin quickens his pace to match Jungkook’s, his tone light but persistent. “The kids would love it, Mr. Jeon. Plus, it’s your responsibility.”

Jungkook groans inwardly, knowing there’s no winning an argument when Jimin uses that reasoning. “Fine.” he relents, glancing over his shoulder with a pointed glare. “But... you’re coming with me.”

“Of course.” Jimin quips with a smirk, unfazed. “I go wherever my boss goes.”

Jungkook shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite himself, before pushing open the door to his cabin. “You’re insufferable.” he mutters, disappearing inside. Jimin grins to himself, adjusting his tie. “It’s part of the job.” he mutters quietly before heading back to his desk.

//

The familiar scent of antiseptic and faint floral air freshener envelops you as you step into the hospital. You glance around, taking in the sight of doctors briskly walking in their white coats, nurses tending to charts, and patients navigating the lobby with family members by their sides. The soft hum of conversations and the occasional beep of monitors create a somber yet steady rhythm.

You make your way to the reception desk, offering a small smile to the woman behind the counter. Her face lights up with recognition.

“You’re early today.” she notes gently. You nod, your expression soft. “I just missed Beomgyu.” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. She smiles warmly, her eyes filled with understanding. “Go ahead.” she says, motioning towards the elevator.

You thank her with a brief smile before turning and stepping into the elevator, pressing the button to take you to the floor where your brother’s room is.

The soft chime of the elevator brings you back to reality as the doors slide open. You walk down the familiar corridor, each step feeling heavier as you approach his room. Pushing the door open, your breath catches in your throat as your eyes land on Beomgyu. His motionless body lies on the bed, the faint hum of medical equipment the only sign of life. Four years. It’s been four long years, and he hasn’t moved an inch.

You sit down in the chair next to his bed, your hands trembling as you reach for his. His hand is cold in yours, and the weight of it brings tears to your eyes. But you blink them away, determined to stay strong.

“Hey, Gyu.” you whisper, brushing your thumb gently over his knuckles. Your voice is soft, filled with a bittersweet mix of hope and sorrow. “I’m here.”

No matter how many times you see him like this, it never gets easier. Each visit feels like a fresh wound, a new wave of pain crashing over you. He was your only family and the sight of his still body, the steady beep of the monitor, and the faint rise and fall of his chest... it all feels both familiar and unbearable. Every time, it’s as if a tiny piece of your heart breaks all over again.

As you stare at his face, a sigh escapes your lips, heavy with the weight of countless unshed tears. "Gyu..." you whisper, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. "It’s getting so hard." Your words falter, carried by the quiet hum of the machines that have become the soundtrack of his existence.

"No matter what I do... I just... I just can’t stop thinking about him." you confess, closing your eyes as the first tear escapes, tracing a slow, burning path down your cheek. Your grip on Beomgyu’s hand tightens, your thumb brushing over his knuckles in slow, rhythmic motions. Though his hand remains lifeless, you hold on as if it’s your last tether to sanity, as if somehow he can feel your anguish.

Maybe he hears me, you think, clinging to the hope that keeps you returning to this room day after day. "I miss him so much." you murmur, your voice cracking under the weight of those words. The sob that escapes your lips feels like a betrayal, exposing just how deeply the pain has taken root.

Beomgyu never met Jungkook... yet, in your heart, you know that if he ever did... he would have absolutely loved him.

You remember that one day you brought Jungkook here, to visit Beomgyu, his hand firmly holding yours as you led him down these sterile hallways.

He had sat beside you, his arm wrapped protectively around your trembling frame, as you told him about the accident that had stolen Beomgyu’s vibrant spirit and left him in this suspended state. Jungkook’s presence had been an anchor that day, steady and reassuring, his soft murmurs giving you the courage to speak through your tears.

And then, there was that promise. You can still hear your own voice, shaky but determined, as you looked into Jungkook’s eyes. "When Beomgyu wakes up, you’ll be the first to know." The memory feels like a lifetime ago, a fragment of a world where hope felt tangible and love wasn’t wrapped in layers of regret.

Now, that promise lingers like a ghost, haunting you with its impossibility. The weight of it presses against your chest, suffocating in its quiet accusation.

You lower your head, your tears falling silently onto the sterile sheets, wishing for a reality where things could have been different... where Beomgyu would wake up, and Jungkook would still be yours to call.

//

After spending about forty minutes sitting by your brother’s side, you feel the weight of time press down on you. With a reluctant sigh, you lean forward, pressing a gentle kiss on his cool forehead. The stillness of the room wraps around you like an unwanted embrace, amplifying the ache in your chest.

You stand, taking a moment to drink in the sight of him, his face so serene yet painfully distant. Finally, you force yourself to turn away, the sharp pull of grief hurting you even as your feet carry you towards the door.

The hospital hallways stretch before you, illuminated by fluorescent lights that feel too bright for the heaviness clouding your heart. The muted chatter of families and nurses echoes faintly around you, but you tune it out, your focus on the floor ahead.

Every step feels heavy, yet familiar... grief walking alongside you like an old companion. You’re lost in thought, your mind lingering on memories you can't quite hold onto, when the sharp ring of your phone jolts you back to the present.

You pause, fishing the device out of your bag. The name on the screen makes a faint smile touch your lips. "Hey, Joonie." you greet, your tone soft but warm.

“Oh my god Y/N...Hi... where have you been?” Namjoon’s voice filters through, steady yet tinged with his usual concern. “I was just visiting Beomgyu.” you reply, stepping into the elevator as the doors slide open.

“Ah...” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a gentler note. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

“No, not at all.” you assure him, leaning against the elevator wall. “I was just about to leave anyway. What’s up?” There’s a slight pause on the other end before he continues talking. “I wanted to check if you’re coming to the orphanage this weekend. You know... for the volunteering session.”

The mention of the orphanage brings a warmth to your chest. Your lips curve into a genuine smile as you think of the place that’s come to feel like a second home. “Of course I’ll be there.” you reply without hesitation.

“That's great!!” Namjoon says, a hint of relief in his tone. “Mrs. Lee mentioned there’s going to be some kind of workshop for the kids, though I’m not really sure what it’s about.”

You hum thoughtfully, stepping out of the elevator as it dings open on the ground floor. “A workshop? That sounds interesting. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what it's about.” you muse, the faint hum of curiosity threading through your voice.

Namjoon chuckles lightly. “Yeah, seems like it. Anyways, you get home safe, Y/N-ah. I'll see you on the weekend.” he says. “See you Joonie... Bye.” you reply, your smile lingering as the call ends.

As you slip your phone back into your bag and step into the cool evening air, a quiet sense of purpose washes over you. The orphanage, specifically, the Sunflower Orphanage, holds a deeply rooted place in your heart.

It’s not just a building, it’s a chapter of your life, a part of your story written alongside your brother, Beomgyu as the two of you grew up there and navigated a world that often felt too vast and too indifferent.

Volunteering there every weekend for the past month with Namjoon hasn’t just been about giving back to the place that shaped you, it’s become a way to honor the struggles you and Beomgyu once faced.

It’s a way of making peace with the past while helping to build a brighter future for the children still living it. The act of helping others has started to feel like a balm for your soul, a small piece of healing in a journey that has felt insurmountable at times.

More than that, it’s helped you stay busy, distracted, keeping your mind from wandering too often to the void that has been lingering in your life for the past four months, an emptiness you’re not ready to confront fully yet.

Every smile from the kids, every hug, every story they share with you reminds you why you’ve always wanted to be a kindergarten teacher.

Now, being able to follow your dream and also volunteer at the very orphanage you grew up in, doing your best to give these children the care and love you once longed for, feels profoundly rewarding.

There’s a bittersweet comfort in walking the same halls you once did, now as a volunteer instead of a resident. You find joy in helping the kids paint their dreams on blank canvases, in reading stories that spark their imaginations, and in simply being a presence they can rely on.

The Orphanage, with its chipped walls and resilient spirit, has become more than a part of your history... it’s a part of your healing, too.

//

Saturday

"Shit, shit." you mutter under your breath, hastily paying the cab driver before dashing towards the entrance of the orphanage. You were supposed to be here early today, especially since you knew there was a workshop planned for the kids.

Mrs. Lee had mentioned needing help with the setup and cleanup, and you’d eagerly offered. But luck hadn’t been on your side. First, your original cab broke down, forcing you to find another. Then, traffic decided to conspire against you, dragging out what should’ve been a quick journey into an agonizing wait.

As you ran up the steps at the entrance, slightly out of breath, your eyes catch on something that brings you to an abrupt halt. A large banner hangs above the double doors, bold letters printed across it. The sight of it makes your stomach churn.

“No way...” you whisper, realization dawning like a bucket of ice water poured over your head as you read the banner. “This is… Jungkook’s workshop?”

You stand frozen, trying to process what you’re seeing. The placards stationed around the entrance leave no room for doubt. Each one bears the unmistakable logo of his company. The presentation materials stacked neatly by the door, the branded posters, and even the staff moving equipment inside all scream his involvement.

You inhale sharply, the air catching in your throat. Of course, it had to be here. Of all the orphanages in the city, the one you’ve been volunteering at for the past month had to be the very place where Jungkook... your ex boyfriend, Jungkook... is hosting a workshop. The universe really has a twisted sense of humor sometimes.

“Fuck.” you mutter, closing your eyes and trying to calm the storm brewing in your chest. You press a hand against the doorframe to steady yourself, taking deep breaths to fight off the anxiety creeping up your spine.

Your mind races with questions you’re not sure you want answers to. Is he here? Or is this one of those events where his employees take the lead while he stays behind the scenes? Should you turn around and leave before anyone notices, or would that make things worse?

You glance back at the cab, still idling by the curb. For a fleeting second, the idea of jumping back in and leaving tempts you. But then you hear the sound of children’s laughter filtering through the open doors, mingling with the excited chatter of the staff, and you know you can’t just leave.

Bracing yourself, you take another deep breath and step inside, your heart pounding harder with each step. The familiar warmth of the orphanage wraps around you, but today it feels heavier, tinged with the tension you’re carrying. You repeat a silent mantra, trying to ground yourself. Stay professional. This is about the kids. Nothing else matters.

“I’ll just… I’ll just pretend I don’t know him.” you mutter under your breath, nodding to yourself as your footsteps echo in the hallway.

//

As you step into the bustling main hall, your eyes land on Namjoon almost immediately. The minute he spots you too, it doesn’t take long for him to weave his way through the crowd towards you, his expression a mix of shock and concern. “Y/N…” he begins, his voice low but urgent as he reaches you. “I had no idea this was going to be his workshop.” The disbelief in his tone mirrors your own feelings.

You throw your head back, a groan escaping your lips. “I know. What the hell am I supposed to do? Is he really here, though? Or is it just his team running the workshop?” you ask, a flicker of hope creeping into your voice as you glance at him.

Namjoon hesitates, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he’s trying to cushion the blow. “Unfortunately…” he starts, his tone apologetic. “He’s here. I just saw him talking to Mrs. Lee a few minutes ago.” You close your eyes, rubbing your temples. “This is so, so, so not fair.” you mutter, your frustration bubbling over.

“Hey…” Namjoon’s voice softens as he places his hands on your shoulders, steadying you. His calm presence is like an anchor in the midst of your swirling emotions. “You’re going to be fine. I know breaking up with him was hard for you, but right now... the best you can do is just stay professional. Pretend like you don’t know him and I’m sure he won’t approach you… I hope.” he adds with a small, uncertain smile.

You let out a shaky sigh, your shoulders slumping under the weight of the situation. Namjoon’s logic makes sense, but it does little to calm the storm brewing inside you. “I haven’t seen him in four months, Joon.” you admit, your voice shaky. “And now, of all times, I have to see him? Here?”

Namjoon offers you a sympathetic look, his hand squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. “I know it’s hard, but I know you’ve got this. Just try your best to avoid him.”

You nod slowly, though you’re far from convinced. This isn’t a situation you can simply walk away from. Jungkook’s presence is inevitable now, and the thought of seeing him again, after everything, sends a whirlwind of emotions crashing through you.

You're aware Jungkook won't be expecting to see you here today and you can't help but wonder what his reaction will be when he actually ends up seeing you. Would his expression shift the moment he spots you? Would it be one of cold indifference, barely a flicker of acknowledgment? Or something sharper like anger, disappointment, perhaps even sadness? The possibilities swirl in your mind, each one more unsettling than the last.

Shaking your head, you force yourself to brush the questions aside. There’s no time to dwell on this right now. You take a steadying breath and look around the busy hall. It’s high time you start helping out. After all, you’re already late, and the least you can do is make up for lost time by pitching in wherever you’re needed.

//

Once all the kids are settled in their seats, their excitement bubbling over in the form of giggles and whispers, you step back, making your way to the back of the room. Namjoon is already there, his arms crossed loosely as he leans against the wall. You take your place beside him, exhaling deeply, trying to calm your heart and mind.

As the workshop begins, your eyes inevitably drift to the front of the room. Jungkook stands there, effortlessly commanding attention. He’s dressed sharply but casually, the rolled-up sleeves of his button-down shirt exposing his tattooed forearm. His presence is magnetic, and it’s no surprise that even the youngest kids are riveted as he begins to speak.

“This program is called 'Healthy Futures'.” he starts, his tone warm and inviting. “It’s about giving you the knowledge and tools to take care of your health. Eating the right food, staying active, and understanding how to take care of your bodies... it’s not just important now, but it’ll help you for years to come.”

He gestures to a large poster board displaying colorful illustrations of fruits, vegetables, and simple meal plans. “Today, we’ll talk about nutrition, and we’ll even have some fun activities to show you how to make smart food choices. You’ll see how easy it can be to make meals that are both delicious and good for you.”

The kids are wide-eyed, soaking up every word. Jungkook’s ability to connect with them is undeniable. As he dives into the presentation, explaining concepts in simple, engaging terms and peppering his talk with questions to keep the kids involved, a small smile tugs at your lips.

You watch as he crouches down to a child’s level, handing them a flashcard and encouraging them to name the food group it belongs to. The way his eyes light up with genuine enthusiasm when the child gets it right is a sight that momentarily softens the ache in your chest.

You can’t help but smile, even if it’s bittersweet. Seeing him like this... passionate, caring, and entirely in his element... reminds you of the man you fell in love with. His natural charm, the way he effortlessly makes others feel seen and valued, is just as captivating now as it was then.

Namjoon nudges you gently. “You okay?” he asks, his voice low. You nod again, your gaze fixed on Jungkook. “Yeah.” you whisper, though the lump forming in your throat makes it a struggle to get the word out. “I’m fine.” you say.

//

As Jungkook wraps up his talk, his voice is steady and warm, a reflection of the effort he’s poured into making this workshop meaningful. “Alright, kids, now it’s time for the fun part...” he announces with a grin.

“My team is going to help you make a simple, healthy snack, something delicious and easy that you can make yourselves... so follow them and they'll guide you through the process." he says.

The children erupt in cheers and applause, their excitement echoing through the hall. Jungkook’s smile widens at their enthusiasm, the earlier reluctance he felt about being here melting away. It’s moments like these that make everything worth it. Seeing their faces light up is a reward far greater than any professional accolade.

As the kids begin to disperse, following the other employees out of the hall, Jungkook takes a moment to glance around, his eyes scanning the room to take in the atmosphere. And then he suddenly sees you.

Jungkook lips part a watches you intently, his eyes trailing as you exchange words with Namjoon before following him out of the room. His throat feels dry, his mind reeling. She's… here? The words echo in his head as his heart pounds erratically against his ribcage.

He gulps, trying to steady himself, but the unexpected sight of you has thrown him completely off balance. Before he can fully process his spiraling thoughts, Jimin’s voice cuts through the haze.

“Mr. Jeon, shall we?” he prompts, his tone professional but gentle, unknowingly grounding Jungkook back to the present. He blinks, nodding faintly as he forces his legs to move, trailing behind his secretary towards the activity room.

But just when he enters the activity room, what he doesn't expect is for you to be the first person he sees. You’re standing just a few feet away, holding a precarious stack of trays to distribute it among the kids. Your focus is elsewhere, until your eyes suddenly meet his. The world tilts for a moment as your face registers a mix of shock and disbelief.

The impact of seeing him here, so close, sends a jolt through you. Your grip falters, and before you can stop it, the trays slip from your hands, the clattering sound echoing through the room as everything scatters across the floor.

The kids go silent, their chatter replaced by a stunned hush as all eyes turn towards you. The embarrassment and panic that flood your system make your skin prickle, but before you can even begin to move, Jungkook is already in front of you.

“Are you... are you okay?” His voice is low, concerned, his hands gently closing over yours as if to steady you. His touch is firm yet hesitant, and the warmth of his palms against your skin sends a shiver through you.

You can barely process his words, your heart pounding too loudly in your ears. Your lips part, but no sound comes out as you struggle to respond. The way he’s looking at you... those familiar dark eyes filled with a mixture of worry and something deeper, makes it impossible to think straight.

“I uhhh... I’m fine.” you finally stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. Your cheeks burn as you quickly try to pull your hands back, but he doesn’t let go immediately. His fingers linger for a second longer than necessary, as if he’s reluctant to lose the contact.

Namjoon, having watched the entire scene unfold, clears his throat as he approaches. “Y/N, are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?” he asks, his tone gentle yet purposeful, as if trying to diffuse the tension.

“I’m fine.” you repeat, louder this time, forcing yourself to look away from Jungkook as you pull your hand away from his and focus on the mess on the floor. You crouch down, starting to pick up the scattered trays, desperate to avoid his eyes. Namjoon joins you without a word, but you can feel Jungkook’s gaze still fixed on you.

Jimin steps forward, clearly confused by the sudden commotion. “Mr. Jeon, should we...” he starts, glancing between Jungkook and the scene before him, but Jungkook barely acknowledges him. His focus is solely on you, his mind racing as he tries to process everything.

For Jungkook, this moment feels surreal. He hadn’t prepared himself for seeing you... not here, not like this. And now, with you so close yet seemingly so far, the weight of everything unsaid between you presses down on him like a tidal wave.

He wants nothing more than to just hold you, to pull you close and take in every detail of your face. These four months have been nothing short of hell, filled with an unrelenting ache for your presence.

But as he watches you so obviously avoiding him, he feels rooted to the spot, his mind scrambling to find the right words... words that refuse to come out.

//

Once the kids are fully immersed in their activity, you quietly slip out of the room, desperate for a moment to catch your breath. The weight of Jungkook’s presence had pressed on you relentlessly for the past twenty minutes, his gaze a constant reminder of the unresolved emotions between you two. Each stolen glance felt like it peeled back layers of the wall you’d carefully built around yourself.

The hallway is quiet as you walk towards the large window at the far end, your footsteps muffled against the polished floor. You pause there, gazing out at the orphanage’s small garden, the scene outside blurring as your mind spins.

Your fingers find the pendant hidden beneath your sweater, and you begin to fidget with it, the familiar texture grounding you. This pendant, this tiny piece of jewelry, holds a weight of its own, a connection to a past that feels both distant and ever-present.

Seeing Jungkook up close had hit you harder than you expected. He hadn’t changed. He was still just as beautiful, still radiated that quiet warmth that had always drawn people to him. The same warmth you’d once found comfort in.

And you missed him... God, you missed him in a way that made your chest ache. But that only made it worse. Because you couldn’t let yourself fall apart, not now, not when you had to face him. You’re so lost in thought that the sound of a familiar voice startles you.

“Y/n.”

Your body tenses instantly. You don’t turn, your fingers reflexively tucking the pendant back beneath your sweater as if it’s some fragile secret you need to protect. You stay facing the window, your breaths shallow as you try to steady your heartbeat.

“You… won’t even look at me?” Jungkook's voice is soft, hesitant, but the pain in it cuts through you like a blade. You bite your lip, your eyes still fixed on the view outside, but all you can feel is him. The rawness of his words sinks into you, heavy and unshakable.

“Y/n…” His voice comes again, quieter this time, almost breaking. It’s not just a name... it’s a plea, one you wish you could ignore but know you can’t.

You hate this. You hate that Jungkook, of all people... the kindest, most selfless soul you’ve ever known... is standing here now, burdened by the pain you caused him. You hate that you’re the one who turned his world upside down. And yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to face him.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself as you turn to face him. Your expression is blank, a carefully constructed mask. “What?” The word comes out cold, clipped, and you instantly regret the sharpness of your tone.

Jungkook’s gaze softens as he studies you, his dark eyes tracing the contours of your face. You still look the same... still breathtaking, still the person he fell hopelessly in love with. But there’s something different too, a guardedness that wasn’t there before, a distance he doesn’t know how to bridge.

“How… how have you been? It’s been a while.” he says softly, his voice laced with hesitation as he takes a tentative step closer.

“I’m fine.” The words come quickly, too quickly, as if you’re desperate to end this conversation before it can even begin. You don’t meet his gaze for long, your eyes flicking away like you’re afraid of what he might see.

Every second in his presence feels like an eternity, the weight of the emotions swirling between you both, suffocating. You can’t do this. Not now, not like this. The effort of keeping your face neutral, of pretending you don’t feel the same pull towards him that you always have... it’s too much.

Without another word, you move to step past him, your focus solely on the hallway ahead. But before you can escape, his hand reaches out, catching your wrist. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt through you, halting you in your tracks.

“Wait.” he says, his voice quiet but firm. There’s a vulnerability in his tone that makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

You take a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his hand wrapped gently around your wrist. It’s almost unbearable... how much harder this is than you’d expected. Having him so close, right there behind you, stirs emotions you’ve fought tirelessly to suppress.

Slowly, you turn over your shoulder, finally meeting his eyes. The intensity in them is overwhelming, a deep sea of emotions you can’t bring yourself to name. They hold so much... questions, pain, longing and you feel a lump rise in your throat as you let out a shaky breath.

“Let me go, Jungkook.” you say quietly, your voice steadier than you feel. You try to tug your wrist free, but his grip tightens ever so slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to keep you rooted in place.

“I didn’t expect to see you here…” he says softly, his voice low and filled with something you can’t quite place. He’s ignoring your plea, but there’s no malice in it, only hesitation, like he doesn’t want to let go just yet. “I’m volunteering.” you reply flatly, forcing the words out without a hint of emotion. “And I need to go.” you add, your tone clipped as you yank your wrist out of his hold.

This time, he lets you go, his hand falling to his side as he watches you stride away from him as fast as you can manage. You don’t dare look back, even as you feel his gaze linger on you, burning into your retreating figure. Your heart pounds with each step, your emotions bubbling dangerously close to the surface, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

You barge into the restroom, letting the door shut heavily behind you. The cool air does nothing to soothe the storm raging inside you. Instantly, your hands fly up to cover your face, a desperate attempt to stifle the sobs threatening to escape.

Your chest heaves as you fight against the tears that burn at the edges of your eyes, your palms pressing against your cheeks as if holding yourself together. But it’s futile. The weight of seeing him again... his voice, his touch, the unspoken pain in his eyes, comes crashing down on you all at once.

A strangled breath escapes your lips, and you lean against the sink for support. Your fingers grip the edge of the cold porcelain as if it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, your blurred vision making it hard to focus.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be.” you whisper to yourself, your voice breaking. Your tears fall freely now, streaking down your cheeks as the emotions you’ve bottled up for months finally spill over. The ache of his presence, the agony of your unresolved feelings... it’s all too much.

You press a trembling hand against your chest, trying to steady the harsh pounding of your heart. For a moment, you close your eyes, taking deep breaths as you attempt to compose yourself. But the pain lingers, sharp and unrelenting.

//

The workshop winds down, the chatter of children and clinking of utensils slowly fading into the background. You’ve spent the entire afternoon and evening carefully maneuvering to avoid Jungkook’s gaze, your heart in a constant state of unease.

Every glance he threw your way, every fleeting moment you felt his presence nearby, only made the weight in your chest heavier.

By the time the clock strikes 8, exhaustion has seeped into your bones, not just from the work but also from the emotional toll of the day. Mrs. Lee thanks you warmly as you help her finish setting up dinner. Namjoon remains by your side, quiet but supportive, his presence a comforting anchor in the chaos of your thoughts.

“You did great today.” he murmurs softly as you both step out of the main hall, his tone gentle. You offer him a faint smile, appreciating his effort to lighten your mood, but the turmoil inside you is too heavy to shake off completely.

Finally, you decide it’s time to leave. Walking down the stairs by the entrance, you feel the cool evening breeze brush against your cheeks. You glance up at the darkening sky, the stars peeking through faintly, their distant glow a stark contrast to the storm swirling within you.

Pulling your coat tighter around you, you fix your bag on your shoulder and bury your hands in your pockets. The thought of going home to the solace of your quiet living room, sappy rom-coms, and a tub of ice cream feels like the only reprieve you’ll get tonight.

As you reach the bus stop, you take a seat on the cold bench, staring at the empty road ahead. The world around you feels quiet and still, yet your mind is an undying chaos. Your thoughts drift back to Jungkook... his voice, his touch, the way his eyes silently pleaded with you earlier and just how much you miss him.

You sigh heavily, resting your elbows on your knees and burying your face in your hands. The ache of seeing him again lingers like a ghost, refusing to leave you be.

As you attempt to gather your thoughts, the soft hum of an approaching engine disrupts your reverie. Your head lifts instinctively, and before you can process it, a sleek car pulls to a stop right in front of you. The headlights cast a gentle glow on the empty road, but it’s the sight of the driver that makes your breath hitch.

Your lips part in surprise, your brows furrowing as the window rolls down. There he is, his dark eyes fixed on you.

“Y/n.” Jungkook calls softly, his voice carrying over the quiet evening. You sigh, a mix of frustration and weariness bubbling within you. Without a word, you stand, shifting your gaze to the left, hoping to catch sight of the bus that feels agonizingly far from arriving.

“Y/n, it’s late. Let me drop you home.” Jungkook says, his tone gentle but insistent. Your heart stumbles at the offer, the thought of being alone with him sending your nerves into overdrive. You don’t trust yourself... not with how raw and exposed you feel after today. So, you do what you’ve been doing all afternoon. You ignore him.

Fixing your gaze on the road ahead, you refuse to acknowledge him. “Y/n, please…” His voice softens, almost breaking. You clench your jaw, the plea digging into you, forcing you to glance at him. “Just go, Jungkook.” you snap flatly, your tone colder than you intended.

Jungkook’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as your words hit him like a blow. He swallows hard, his gaze never leaving you. “I’ll just drop you home. Please, it’s not safe this late.” he persists, his determination unwavering.

You shake your head, muttering under your breath as you start walking down the pavement, each step heavier than the last. But Jungkook, true to his nature, doesn’t back down so easily.

The car begins to crawl forward, matching your pace as you walk. His persistence is both frustrating and heartbreaking. You can feel his gaze through the window, silently urging you to stop, to listen, to look at him.

“Y/n.” he calls out again, his voice tinged with desperation. Your chest tightens as you quicken your steps, hoping to outrun the storm of emotions brewing within you. But no matter how far you walk, Jungkook is right there, his car trailing you like a shadow, refusing to let you go.

The sound of the car suddenly stopping and the door opening breaks through the rhythm of your footsteps, and you stiffen. You don’t turn around, determined to maintain your resolve, but then you feel it... a firm yet gentle hand gripping your arm, spinning you around effortlessly.

Your eyes widen as you find yourself face-to-face with Jungkook, the intensity in his gaze pinning you in place. His breath is uneven, as if he’s been chasing you, though he hasn’t. “Please.” he says, his voice raw and pleading. “Just let me drop you home. That’s literally all I’m asking.”

His words hang heavy between you, and for a moment, you close your eyes, exhaling sharply. His persistence is unrelenting, and deep down, you know your bus isn’t arriving anytime soon to save you from this situation.

You pull your arm free from his grasp, the warmth of his touch lingering even as you step back. Without meeting his gaze, you walk towards his car, your resolve cracking under the weight of exhaustion and inevitability.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you settle into the cold leather with a resigned sigh, the door closing behind you with a soft thud. He'll just drop me home, you convince yourself as you don’t look at him, keeping your gaze fixed ahead.

Jungkook quietly gets back into the driver’s seat, his movements careful as if afraid to shatter the fragile silence that now envelops the two of you. The hum of the engine rises again, but neither of you say anything, the tension stretching thin as the car begins to move.

As Jungkook drives, the rhythmic sound of the tires on the road fills the car, but the silence between you feels louder, heavier. Your gaze remains fixed outside the window, the passing streetlights casting fleeting glows across your face. Your hands clutch your purse tightly on your lap, a silent anchor to steady your racing emotions.

The stillness is suddenly broken by his voice, soft but heavy with restraint. “So… how have you been?” he asks, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

You don't answer. You don’t move. You don’t flinch. Your determination to stay silent grows stronger as you think about the consequences of letting him back into your life. The jagged edges of your reality press against you like shards of glass.

“Y/n…” he calls out again, his voice gentler this time, but still, you keep your gaze fixed outside, ignoring the crackling tension in the air.

He exhales audibly, the pain in his voice more evident now. “Y/n, I haven’t seen you in four months... and now you’re here, but you’re acting like I don’t even exist.” His words tremble, and you feel the sharp sting of guilt twisting in your chest.

“You’re right here.” he murmurs, almost to himself. “But why do you feel so far away?”

Your lips tighten into a thin line, and your grip on your purse grows tighter. You can feel his eyes on you, searching, pleading, but you refuse to meet his gaze. “Are you really not going to talk to me… at all?” he asks, his voice breaking slightly at the end.

Jungkook glances at your side profile, his knuckles white against the steering wheel as he fights to hold himself together. The hurt in his chest feels unbearable, a weight pressing harder with every second of your silence.

He’s done his best to come to terms with your absence, with the breakup, even when the harsh reasons you gave felt like flimsy walls hiding something bigger. But now, sitting this close to you and being treated like a stranger, it cuts deeper than he expected.

“You know what…” Jungkook suddenly mutters under his breath, and though you hear the shift in his tone, you don’t move, don’t react. But then the car swerves abruptly, jerking to the left. Your head snaps towards him, eyes wide with shock as you clutch the handlebar above your seat.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim, your heart hammering as you notice the road signs signaling that he’s no longer heading towards your neighborhood.

“I can’t do this anymore.” he says, his voice firm but tinged with exhaustion. His grip on the steering wheel tightens and his foot presses harder on the gas pedal, the car speeding up.

“Jungkook, what are you doing?? Slow down !!” you demand, trying to mask the panic creeping into your voice. “We need to talk.” he states simply, his eyes focused on the road ahead as if there’s nothing else in the world but his determination.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your mind races. “Jungkook, turn the car around.” you say firmly, though your voice wavers slightly.

But he doesn’t listen. Instead, his jaw tightens, and the speed of the car increases further, the scenery outside blurring. Then it hits you... he’s heading in the direction towards his place.

“Jungkook…” you begin, your voice softer now, a mixture of anger and disbelief.

He doesn’t answer this time, his silence carrying more weight than words ever could. His gaze remains locked forward, the muscles in his jaw ticking as if he’s trying to rein in the storm brewing within him.

You glance outside, feeling both trapped and helpless. Every instinct in you screams to argue, to demand that he stops, but a part of you... a small, stubborn part wonders what he’s so desperate to say.

After 10 tense minutes of silence, the car finally comes to a halt in front of Jungkook's building. He doesn’t waste a second, stepping out of the car and slamming the door behind him. You watch him from the corner of your eye, your hands still gripping the purse on your lap, as he strides purposefully to your side of the car.

Before you can even process what’s happening, he pulls the door open, and the chill of the night air sweeps over you, making you shiver. He leans down slightly, his dark eyes locking with yours, filled with an unrelenting determination that sends your heart racing.

“Come with me.” he says, his voice steady but soft as he extends a hand towards you. You stare at his hand, conflicted, the weight of the moment pressing down on your chest. You feel cornered, unable to escape this situation he’s forced you into.

“Jungkook…” you begin, but the words catch in your throat. He sighs, his shoulders sagging slightly, as if the plea in your voice strikes a chord in him. But before you can say anything else, he gently grabs your wrist. The touch is soft, hesitant, but there’s an urgency to his movements as he guides you out of the car.

You stumble slightly, your body still resistant, but he steadies you with a firm yet careful grip. He’s desperate, you can see it in the way his brows furrow, the way his lips press into a thin line as if he’s barely holding himself together. “Jungkook, I...” you breathe out, the words getting stuck in your throat.

“Just… please.” he interrupts, his voice raw with emotion. “I just wanna talk.... Please.”

His eyes search yours, and you can feel the ache in them, the unspoken pain he’s been carrying. Your chest tightens, and for a moment, you’re frozen, unable to say no, unable to pull away. He doesn’t give you a chance to argue further, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, his fingers curling around yours as he gently but firmly leads you towards his house.

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of the moment heavy in the air as you reluctantly follow him.

As Jungkook shuts the door to his apartment, the click echoes in the silence. He turns to face you, his eyes soft but piercing, like he’s searching for something he’s desperate to find.

“Y/n.” he says, your name rolling off his tongue like a plea.

You try to avoid his gaze, looking anywhere but at him, but then his hands come up to cup your face, his warmth grounding you in a way that sends a pang through your chest. His touch is gentle, yet insistent, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“Y/n, please.” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “Just talk to me.”

Your breath hitches, and you instinctively step back, only to feel the cool, unyielding wall against your back. You’re cornered... literally and emotionally... and the weight of the moment bears down on you.

Your emotions, so carefully locked away, begin to bubble to the surface. Anger, regret, frustration, they all swirl together, threatening to consume you. Gritting your teeth, you grab his wrists and pull his hands away from your face.

“Just leave me alone.” you choke out, your voice breaking. The tears that have been fighting to escape finally spill over, cascading down your cheeks. Before you know it, you’re sobbing uncontrollably, your body trembling as the dam holding back your emotions shatters.

Jungkook’s eyes widen in shock as he watches you unravel before him. His heart clenches painfully at the sight of your tears, the sound of your sobs cutting through him like a knife. He steps closer instinctively, his hands hovering uncertainly as if unsure whether to comfort you or give you space.

“Y/n…” he begins, his voice soft and hesitant, but you shake your head violently, interrupting him.

“You can’t do this, Jungkook.” you cry out, your voice trembling with frustration. “After everything I did to cut you off… you can’t just... just pull me back like this.”

Your words hit him like a blow, and he takes a shaky step back, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Do you think this is easy for me?” he finally says, his voice breaking. “I didn’t want to pull you back, Y/n. But how am I supposed to let you go when I don’t even understand why you left?”

His words hang in the air, and you stare at him through your blurry vision, your heart pounding as his pain intertwines with yours. You’re both standing on the edge of a precipice, the weight of your shared history threatening to pull you under.

The air between you feels heavy, thick with emotions neither of you can control anymore. Jungkook’s gaze locks onto your tear-streaked face, his breathing shallow as he watches the pain and turmoil in your eyes. Something inside him snaps, and before he can stop himself, he takes a step forward, closing the distance between you.

His hands cradle your face, trembling slightly, as he leans in and harshly presses his lips against yours. It’s desperate, unrestrained, and raw. The suddenness of it makes you gasp, your breath hitching as his lips move against yours, pouring every unspoken word, every unanswered question into the kiss.

Your eyes flutter shut, and for a moment, your mind is overwhelmed by the flood of memories... his laugh, his touch, the way he used to make you feel like you were the only person that mattered. But as much as the kiss ignites a fire inside you, your tears don’t stop.

Jungkook feels the wetness of your tears against his palms, and it pulls him back abruptly. He steps away, his face etched with regret and panic, as if realizing he may have crossed a line he shouldn’t have.

“I... I’m sorry.” he stammers, his voice shaking as he searches your face. “I shouldn’t have—”

Before he can finish, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him back towards you, your lips colliding with his in a kiss that’s equally urgent and desperate. Your hands clutch onto him like he’s the only thing anchoring you to reality, and this time, the weight of all the emotions you’ve been holding back crashes into him.

Your kiss is messy, tinged with anger, longing, and sorrow, but it’s real. It’s the connection you’ve been denying for so long. Jungkook responds immediately, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer as if afraid you’ll slip away again.

The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in this moment, grappling with the emotions you’ve tried so hard to suppress.

Your lips never part, not even for a second, as you start pulling each other’s clothes off, letting them fall to the ground one after the other. Every single article of clothing gets discarded in a trail leading from his door step to his living room.

The heat between you intensifies, growing hotter and wilder with every second. It’s like you’ve been starving for each other, for this moment, this connection for so long that now you can’t help but devour each other.

You know you shouldn't be doing this. You know you can't face the consequences of your impulsive actions, but your heart refuses to let go. You're completely consumed by the passion and intensity of the kiss, unable to pull yourself away even when you have so much on the line.

Even as you walk into his apartment, your lips remain connected, your hands gripping his arms, holding onto him as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go. The world spins around you as he picks up the pace, guiding you to the couch. Your feet brush against the soft carpet, sending shivers up your leg, and before you know it, you feel the cushion behind you.

The feeling of Jungkook on top of you is nothing less than heaven. You run your hands up and down his tattooed arm, feeling the way his muscles tense with each touch. His kisses trail down your neck, making you squirm under him.

“Fuck...” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin as he takes off your bra in a swift motion.

He groans softly, his eyes wide as they drink in the sight of you beneath him. Then his gaze falls to your collarbone, lingering on the familiar pendant resting against your skin.

"The... necklace." he notices, his fingers reaching out to brush it gently. His touch is reverent, almost hesitant, as if the small piece of jewelry holds all the words he can’t say. He looks up into your eyes, a subtle smile curving his lips.

"You... you never took it off?" he asks, his voice laced with slight disbelief.

"Never." you affirm softly, your voice steady yet tender. His eyes soften, glimmering with emotions too deep for words, and for a moment, it feels as if the necklace is the silent thread that has always held your hearts together.

“I…” his voice trails, and you can tell he’s struggling to find the right words. “I fucking missed you.” he breathes out and without giving you a chance to respond, he leans down and presses his lips to your chest.

You let out a moan as he starts sucking on the skin between your breasts, and your hips squirm beneath him. “Kook…” you gasp as his mouth closes around one of your nipples, making you arch your back. He bites down gently, and you can't help but cry out in pleasure.

You can feel his body shaking on top of you, the desperation to get closer to you is so so evident. His hand slides up your leg and rests at your waist before slipping under your back, lifting your hips to meet his. The kiss that follows is sweet and gentle, like he’s trying to apologize for everything that’s happened between you, even when it's not his fault.

Your hands move to his hair, twisting into the dark strands as you pull him even closer. You can’t stop yourself, you can’t resist him anymore. The feeling, the warmth, the electricity, it’s too hard to fight. Your body is craving his, and he’s giving you all the affection you’ve been craving for these past four dreadful months.

His lips trail down your body, stopping at the spot between your legs as he slides your underwear down your legs. You gasp as you watch him dip his head, the warmth of his tongue circling your clit. Your hands grip the couch, and your body arches in reaction to the pleasure he’s sending through your body.

“Fuck.” you gasp, barely able to string the words together as he presses his face between your legs. Jungkook moans, his tongue licking around your clit in firm, steady strokes. Your hands move from the couch to his shoulders, pushing him further between your legs.

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with hunger and desire, his chin wet from your arousal, as he grips your hips and pulls you closer. He buries his tongue as deep as it can go, causing your body to jerk in reaction.

You cry out his name, your voice hoarse as your hands grip his hair. Jungkook feels himself get harder as he flattens his tongue, applying pressure to your clit. “Fuck… please... please Kook... don’t stop.” you beg as he licks you faster, your hips rocking against his face.

Your moans echo through the empty apartment as Jungkook works you closer and closer to release. When he stops sucking your clit and presses his tongue deep inside of you instead, you lose it, your orgasm washing over you in waves.

You can’t do anything but lay there and take it, your legs shaking and twitching around his face as your body convulses with pleasure.

He kisses his way up your body, licking the sweat from your skin before he finally reaches your lips. The taste of your arousal on his lips sends heat through you, and you moan as his tongue enters your mouth.

Your tears are back, running down your cheeks as you try to process the moment. Jungkook pulls away from your lips and places his forehead against yours. His thumb softly wipes your tears away, as he tries to process this surreal moment himself.

“Fuck...” he whispers as he slowly rubs his length against your core, sending sparks through your body. You feel the warmth of his skin against yours... your bodies pressed together in a way you can't comprehend.

“I... I need you baby....” Jungkook murmurs against your lips, his length rubbing against you. You breathe heavily as you nod, wanting him to just take you right here, right now.

With one swift motion, he pushes himself inside you, filling you completely. Your lips part as you take in the feeling of being stretched out by him.

Jungkook stills for a moment, taking in the feeling of finally being back inside of you. He thought he’d never have you like this again, that he’d lost you forever, but here he is, buried deep inside your warmth. His eyes stare into yours, watching your chest heave up and down as you try to adjust to the feeling you had so deeply missed.

You stare into him, sniffling as your tears refuse to stop flowing. “I love you...” you hear him say as he leans forward again, capturing your wet lips in an urgent kiss.

As the kiss grows intense, he starts moving his hips, thrusting in and out of you in a slow and steady pace. Your hands grip his arms, digging your nails into his skin as you arch your back. Jungkook kisses you harder, his moans filling the air around you.

His movements are filled with need and longing, like he’s afraid this is the last time he’ll get to make love to you. He wants to take in every moan, every thrust, every gasp he gets from you.

You’re lost in the sensation, consumed by the pleasure Jungkook is giving you as his body moves over and into you. He holds you down, his weight pinning you to the couch as he makes love to you in his living room. You feel his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he thrusts deeper inside you.

Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer as you gasp for air but his hands grip your legs, moving them up his body as he lifts your ankles to rest on his shoulders. The change of position causes him to slide deeper inside you, and you gasp as he hits a familiar spot inside and all you can see is stars.

“Oh god....” you moan as he starts increasing his pace. Your lips part as the sensation washes over you. Jungkook leans down, pressing his lips to yours as he fucks you with reckless abandon. He’s chasing his own release, but he wants you to come with him.

He thrusts into you over and over again, his hands gripping your waist as he holds himself up. Your hands are on his ass, pushing him closer, begging for more as he groans into your mouth.

Your moans fill the air as you feel your body build towards a second release. Jungkook feels it too, his pace picking up as he drives you over the edge once more. “I’m...I'm coming...” you cry, your nails digging into his skin.

Jungkook groans in response, his thrusts becoming wild and desperate. He fucks you like he can’t get enough, like he’ll never get to have you again.

You moan into his mouth as your orgasm washes over you once more. Your body convulses under him, and you can’t do anything but let it take you over. Jungkook grunts, his body shaking above you as he chases his own release.

“Fuck baby...” he groans as he fills you up and collapses on top of you his body shuddering and his hips thrusting into you a few more times, stretching out his orgasm as much as he can. Your arms wrap around him, holding him close as you take in the warmth of his body against yours.

Jungkook presses a tender kiss to your shoulder, the gesture carrying a weight of emotions he can’t put into words. The moment feels surreal, almost fragile, as if one wrong move could shatter it.

He never imagined he’d hold you like this again, the warmth of your presence grounding him in a reality he once thought he’d lost forever. To him, this feels like a stolen dream... achingly beautiful, yet tinged with the fear that it might slip away.

He slowly rolls off you, settling beside you against the soft cushions of the couch. His arms wrap around you instinctively, holding you close as his eyes trace the lines of your face.

The exhaustion etched into your features tugs at his heart. His gaze drifts downward, gazing at the necklace around your neck. You didn't take it off and... that must mean something right? As he continues taking in the sight of you, he feels an overwhelming ache rise within him... he had missed you more than words could ever convey.

A thousand questions crowd his mind. He wants to speak, to ask, to understand, to unravel everything that had been left unsaid and find a way back to what you guys once were. But then he notices the way your eyelids flutter, heavy with weariness, and the soft, unsteady rhythm of your breaths as you try to calm yourself.

He swallows the urge to press for answers, deciding that for now, the questions can wait. Morning will come soon enough. Instead, he tightens his hold on you, his heart pounding in his chest as he silently wills himself to remain still. The warmth of your presence soothes him, and he closes his eyes, hoping that sleep will find him in the solace of this stolen moment.

//

Jungkook's eyebrows knit together in his sleep, a slight twitch running through his body as he shifts uncomfortably on the couch. His eyes flutter open, and he instinctively clutches the blanket against his chest. Blinking groggily, he glances around, the familiar sight of his apartment slowly coming into focus.

The realization that he’s on the couch sinks in, and like a tidal wave, the memory of last night crashes into him. His breath hitches, and he jolts upright, his heart pounding in his chest. Panic bubbles beneath the surface as he glances at the empty space behind him.

He looks down at the blanket draped over his body, a puzzled frown forming as he struggles to recall when or how it got there. His eyes dart around the room, searching for any sign of you, but the stillness of his apartment feels unnervingly hollow. The silence presses down on him, heavy and suffocating.

Rising to his feet, Jungkook starts moving through the apartment, his voice shaky as he calls out your name. "Y/N??" he tries again, his tone more urgent this time. But there’s no answer.

Each step he takes only amplifies the sinking feeling in his chest. He checks the kitchen, the bathroom, his bedroom, even the balcony, but you’re nowhere to be found. His mind spirals, questioning if last night had been a cruel dream... a mirage conjured by his yearning.

Or had you truly been here, only to slip away quietly in the morning? The thought twists his stomach, leaving him nauseous as he leans against the wall, his hands trembling. Did he really lose you all over again?

Jungkook doesn’t waste a second. His movements are frantic, hands fumbling as he pulls on his clothes in haste, not even bothering to smooth out the wrinkles. His mind is racing, each thought more urgent than the last. He grabs his keys and bolts out the door, the sound of it slamming shut echoing through the empty hallway.

His heart pounds as he throws himself into the driver’s seat, the familiar hum of the engine roaring to life beneath him. His knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel, the tension radiating through his body. His eyes burn with exhaustion, but the ache in his chest far outweighs it.

The city is still waking up, the roads bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun. Jungkook doesn’t care. He presses harder on the accelerator, weaving through the sparse traffic with reckless determination. Every red light feels like a lifetime, every delay an unbearable agony.

He can't stop thinking about you. The way your touch felt like home, the way your lips trembled against his last night, and the way your tears spoke of everything you were too afraid to say. He can’t let that go. He won’t.

The thought of losing you again, of waking up every morning knowing you’re out there but not by his side, terrifies him. It’s a kind of pain he doesn’t think he can survive twice.

As he nears your neighborhood, his pulse quickens. He doesn’t know what he’ll say, or how you’ll react, but none of it matters. All he knows is that he needs you... more than air, more than anything.

Parking haphazardly in front of your house, he bolts towards your door, his heart hammering as he begins knocking. There’s no answer, and his anxiety only grows. He steps off your porch, wondering where you could be.

He rushes outside, reaching the pavement, desperately scanning the neighborhood, hoping to catch a glimpse of you somewhere.

He runs through the neighborhood, his heart pounding, the anxiety gnawing at him as he checks every corner, every familiar path, but you're nowhere to be seen. Yet, something inside him refuses to give up.

As he nears the park at the edge of the neighborhood, he slows down, taking a breath to steady himself. His eyes sweep over the quiet space, and in that moment, it’s as if time slows... until he sees you, sitting alone on a distant bench, your figure outlined against the soft glow of the morning light, looking smaller and more vulnerable than he’s ever seen you.

He wastes no time as he runs towards you, his footsteps growing louder as he approaches you, his figure growing more defined with every step. His heart is racing, not just from the frantic search, but from the sheer desperation to be close to you again, to make sure you’re okay.

You sit still, your eyes widening in disbelief as you realize he’s found you. A rush of emotions flood through you... surprise, guilt, and a wave of regret. You can't help but wonder how he managed to find you here.

You glance down, unable to meet his gaze as the memories of last night resurface. The vulnerability of the moment hits you hard. You had fled his apartment at dawn, unable to face him after everything. The way he had held you, the way everything felt so perfect in the heat of the moment... it scared you.

You knew you had no answers to his questions, no way to explain the reasons behind your past actions. And the truth? That was something you couldn’t give him, not now, not when you have so much to lose. The only thing left for you to do was leave him behind and slip away like a coward, hoping he wouldn’t follow.

But here he is, standing before you, his presence too much to ignore. You don't know whether to run again or finally face him.

Jungkook’s eyes are full of pain as he steps closer to you, his voice shaking with a mix of frustration and hurt. “You left.” he breathes out, as if the weight of his words is too much to bear.

“Why... why did you leave?” His voice cracks at the end, vulnerability spilling through in a way he can’t control.

You try to look away, but his gaze pulls you in. The truth, too raw and too close to the surface, is something you can’t escape. You can feel the crack in your heart widen with every passing second. "Jungkook... we're broken up." you whisper, barely meeting his eyes.

"No." he denies, the sharpness in his breath betraying the desperation in his chest. "Don't say that, especially after last night." His voice is pleading now, fragile, cracking in a way that shakes him to the core. His fists clench at his sides with the effort to keep himself together.

"How can you say that after everything? After what happened between us? How... can you just walk away like that? How can you pretend like... none of it mattered?"

He takes a step closer, his eyes burning with a need to understand, to hold on to the fragments of what he thought was still there. "The past four months... it’s been hell, Y/n. I’ve been drowning in this silence, wondering every day what went wrong. I never got an answer. You just... left. Without a word, without a valid reason. And I hate it. I hate that I don’t know why. I hate that you just cut me off like I meant nothing. Like everything we had... it was all just a lie."

You look at him, the tears unknowingly streaming down your face. "Kook..." you start, but he cuts you off. "I tried to let go... I tried to make peace with it... but... but it hurts, Y/n. It hurts more than I can put into words, and I don’t even know what I did wrong." he pauses, trying to calm himself down.

"I don’t know what happened between us. Why did... why did you leave me? Why did you make me feel like I was nothing to you?" His voice cracks, the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. You stare at him, the lump in your throat intensifying. "You... you were everything to me. I thought we had a future together, Y/n. But now, I’m just... I'm just so lost.... I'm so lost without you."

Jungkook steps back for a moment, his hands running through his hair in frustration as he tries to make sense of it all. His breath is shallow, a quiet sob escaping him as he collects himself. "I need to know..." he mutters, barely audible. "Why? What... what happened? Please, just tell me."

He takes another shaky breath, the weight of his emotions almost unbearable. "Don’t tell me... you stopped loving me." he pleads, his voice raw and desperate. "I know that’s not true. I know you would never be so harsh to me." His words are laced with disbelief, as if he’s clinging to any shred of hope that there’s something he’s missing, something he can grasp, something that makes sense.

“I can feel it, Y/n.” he continues softly, eyes never leaving yours, searching your face as if it holds the answers. “I know you love me. You can’t just... stop. Not after everything we went through. Not after what we had.” He steps closer again, his heart aching at the thought of losing you. “So don’t tell me that’s it. Don’t tell me you just decided it was over.”

"I never stopped loving you." you whisper, your voice barely audible as hot tears continue to roll down your cheeks. The weight of your words feels like an anchor in your chest, heavy and suffocating. You feel weak, defeated... like there’s no hope left.

The sight of him standing there, shivering in pain, breaks you in ways you didn’t think were possible. His pain, the hurt you’ve caused, fills you with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

Your heart aches as you watch the way his eyes fill with confusion and desperation, his hands trembling as he reaches out to you, as if just a touch could make everything okay. But you know, deep down, that nothing can probably fix this.

"I'm sorry." you whisper, barely able to get the words out. "I'm so sorry, Jungkook. I never wanted to hurt you." The tears flow freely now, staining your cheeks as you try to find the strength to speak, to explain, but the words feel stuck, trapped inside you.

As you break down, Jungkook takes a seat beside you as he hesitantly wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. You bury your face in his chest, the tears coming in waves, uncontrollable, as the weight of everything you've been holding in comes rushing to the surface.

His hands gently stroke your back, soothing you in a way that makes everything feel just a little more bearable. Every sob that wracks your body seems to break his heart a little more, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he tightens his grip on you, as if reminding both of you that, for now, you’re not alone.

Jungkook feels his own tears begin to spill as he pulls you even closer, his heart breaking at the sight of your pain. His fingers tremble as they weave through your hair, trying to hold you as tightly as possible, as if he could absorb some of your sorrow.

The weight of the silence between you both is suffocating, but his mind races, desperately trying to understand why you’re in so much pain, why you had to leave him, why you feel so broken.

"Y/n..." His voice cracks, raw with emotion as he speaks your name. His chest tightens with the fear that maybe he’s never truly known the full story, that maybe everything he thought he understood was just an illusion.

His tears fall freely now, as he presses his forehead against yours, his breath shaky. "Please, just tell me. What happened?" His words are barely above a whisper, but they hold a desperate plea. "Why are you like this? What... what am I missing?"

His hands move to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that continue to fall. He’s not sure if he’s crying for the both of you or if he’s just so lost in your pain that it feels like it’s his own. "I can’t lose you again, Y/n. I need to know... why we are the way we are right now. Please, just tell me. I can’t fix it if I don’t understand."

His grip on you tightens, the urgency in his voice rising as he gazes into your eyes, searching for some kind of answer, anything that will explain the devastation he’s feeling. His love for you is still so strong, so unyielding, but the fear of losing you completely is almost too much to bear.

Just as you're about to speak, your phone starts ringing, its shrill tone cutting through the heavy silence. You hesitate for a moment, unsure whether to pick it up, especially given the fragile state you're in right now. But the phone keeps ringing, insistent, and you feel a knot tighten in your stomach.

With a sniffle, you pull away from Jungkook, trying to compose yourself as you reach for your phone. "Just a minute..." you whisper, wiping away the last of your tears as you glance at the caller ID.

It's the hospital. Your heart skips a beat at the sight, and before you can think twice, you answer, trying to steady your voice. "Hello?"

"Am I speaking to Ms. Choi?" the voice on the other end asks. Your breath catches in your throat, and without a second thought, you stand up, your heart rate increasing with every passing second. "Yes, this is she." you reply, trying to keep your composure, but the panic is starting to rise in your chest.

Jungkook watches you intently, noticing the change in your expression as you stand up. His concern deepens as he observes the tension in your body. Who could be calling you at this hour? You grip the phone tighter as the voice on the other end continues speaking, but then you gasp, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.

He watches in horror as you suddenly collapse, your knees buckling beneath you. It's like all the strength has left your body. His instincts kick in immediately, and he's by your side in an instant, crouching down and reaching out for you.

His hands land gently on your shoulders as he pulls you towards him, trying to steady you. The phone slips from your grasp, clattering to the ground, but you don’t seem to notice. Your eyes are wide, unblinking, and you stare ahead, lost in whatever news you've just received.

"Y/n... what happened? Are you okay?" Jungkook's voice is laced with worry, his hand moving to your cheek to check for any sign of awareness. You blink a few times, as if snapping back into reality, but it’s still hard to focus. Your lips tremble as you finally meet his eyes, and you whisper his name. "Jungkook..."

His heart races as he holds you tighter, desperate for you to continue. He nods, prompting you to keep talking. "Jungkook... Beomgyu... he... he woke up." you say.

"What...?" Jungkook asks, his voice laced with disbelief. His wide eyes search your face for confirmation, and when he sees the glimmer of truth in your tear-streaked expression, his features soften into a smile. "Y/n... that's... that's great news. That's... amazing news, baby." His voice wavers, a mix of relief and joy, and his smile grows wider.

You nod quickly, the reality of it hitting you all over again as fresh tears stream down your cheeks. "He's awake, Jungkook... he's really awake." you whisper, your voice trembling with a mixture of happiness and overwhelming emotion.

You pause, glancing around as you try to calm yourself down. "I need to go see him. I... I need to get to the... the hospital." you say hurriedly, the urgency in your tone impossible to miss.

Jungkook catches your arm gently but firmly, grounding you for a moment. "Hey, hey." he says softly, looking into your eyes with a steady calmness. "I'll take you there, yeah? My car’s parked right outside your house, so let’s go. Come on." he softly says as he helps you up.

//

You barge through the hospital doors, your steps quick and frantic, your heart racing as you navigate through the lobby. Jungkook follows close behind, his presence a comforting weight amidst the chaos swirling in your mind.

You reach the elevator and jab the button repeatedly, as though it might make the lift arrive faster. The ride up feels like an eternity, and yet, when the doors slide open, you're already bolting down the hallway towards Beomgyu's room.

Finally, you stand outside the door, your hand frozen on the handle. You take a shaky breath, trying to collect yourself, your chest rising and falling with the weight of four long years of waiting. Four years of imagining this moment, of rehearsing what you’d say, how you’d feel... but now, standing here, all those thoughts dissolve into a haze of indescribable emotion.

Jungkook steps beside you, his voice soft and steady as he whispers. "He's waiting for you, baby." His words calm you, giving you the courage you need to face what’s on the other side of the door. You glance at him, his warm eyes filled with reassurance, and you nod, summoning the strength to push forward. With trembling hands, you carefully push the door open and step inside.

There he is. Beomgyu. Sitting up in bed, his back resting against the headboard, alive and awake. The sight is almost surreal, a moment that feels too precious to be real.

He looks at you with a lopsided grin, his expression as cheeky and familiar as ever. "Long time no see, Your Highness." he quips, his tone lighthearted and playful, as if the last four years hadn't just been wiped away by a miracle.

Your breath catches, a soft laugh escaping you as tears well up in your eyes again. "Beomgyu..." you whisper, your voice breaking. The weight of the years, the pain, the hope... all of it rushes to the surface as you step closer, overwhelmed by the reality of seeing him awake.

You rush to his side, tears streaming freely down your cheeks as you throw your arms around him in a tight embrace. The warmth of his body against yours is enough to break down every last wall you'd built over the years.

You remember all the times you'd playfully swatted him away, rolled your eyes, or made a face every time he tried to hug you because back then, you liked to act like showing affection to your sibling was embarrassing.

But right now, there’s no hesitation, no second thought. Right now, you’ve never felt more alive.

“I missed you.” you sob, your voice muffled against his shoulder as you clutch him like you’re afraid he might slip away again. The tears come harder as the realization sinks in that this moment is real. He’s real. The long, agonizing wait is finally over.

Beomgyu chuckles softly, his voice steady yet laced with emotion. "Wow, I must really be a sight for sore eyes if you’re this clingy." he teases, though his arms wrap tightly around you, holding you just as fiercely. His familiar, playful tone only makes you cry harder.

"You idiot." you choke out, your voice trembling as you pull back just enough to look at him. Your hands cup his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears that now spill from his eyes too. "Don’t you dare scare me like that ever again. Do you hear me? Never again."

His grin softens, and he nods, his own tears mirroring yours. "I promise." he whispers, his voice quieter, more solemn now. "Never again."

Jungkook lingers near the doorway, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watches the reunion unfold. The raw emotion in your embrace, the way you cling to Beomgyu like he might vanish if you let go... it stirs something deep within him.

He knows how long you've waited for this moment, how often you spoke of it with a mixture of hope and pain. Seeing you finally experience it makes his heart swell with happiness for you.

But then, Jungkook freezes as Beomgyu's gaze shifts towards him. His eyes widen slightly, realizing that this is the first time Beomgyu is seeing him.

“Who’s... that?” Beomgyu asks, his voice curious but steady. His brows furrow slightly as he nods towards Jungkook. You turn to follow Beomgyu’s gaze, and when your eyes meet Jungkook’s, you can’t help but smile.

“That’s Jungkook.” you say softly, glancing back at your brother before looking at Jungkook again. There’s something tender in the way you say his name, something that makes Jungkook’s smile widen as he nods politely at Beomgyu.

Before anything else can be said, the doctor appears and Jungkook steps aside letting him in. “Ms. Choi.” the doctor greets with a warm smile. “Congratulations. It’s wonderful to see Beomgyu awake and responsive. However, we’ll need to run a few tests now, just to check his overall condition.”

You nod understandingly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek as you stand. “Of course... thank you, doctor.” you say, turning back to Beomgyu. You lean down to place a soft kiss on his forehead, your smile filled with a quiet reassurance. “I’ll be right outside, okay?”

Beomgyu nods, his grin still cheeky. “Don’t disappear. I need you to explain who that guy is and why he was looking at you with literal heart eyes.” he teases, his playful tone making you chuckle as you shake your head.

You glance at Jungkook, who’s scratching the back of his neck, looking a little flustered. “Behave.” you tell Beomgyu with a laugh before stepping outside with Jungkook, leaving your brother in the capable hands of the doctor.

As you settle into the metal chair right outside Beomgyu's room, beside Jungkook, the cold steel pressing against your back is a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand as it gently rests on your knee. His fingers squeeze lightly, offering some silent comfort.

You glance down at the way his hand fits so naturally on you and let out a small, tired smile. Placing your hand over his, your thumb begins to trace slow circles over his knuckles, grounding yourself in the quiet rhythm of the motion.

Your voice breaks the silence, soft but weighted. "Junghyun... he came to see me."

Jungkook’s brows knit together in confusion. “Junghyun? My brother?” he repeats, his tone disbelieving as he tries to process your words. You nod, your gaze shifting to the sterile white tiles of the hospital floor.

“Four months ago... he came to the kindergarten.” you admit, your voice faltering slightly. You exhale deeply, trying to steady yourself before diving into the painful memory.

The words spill out in fragments, raw and hesitant, as you recount the confrontation with Junghyun. You describe the way he appeared out of nowhere, his presence overbearing, his threats sharp and deliberate. You tell Jungkook how he used your brother's condition against you, twisting it into a weapon, leaving you cornered and helpless.

By the time you finish, the tension in Jungkook’s body is palpable. His jaw is clenched tight, and his fists curl against his knees. His breath is sharp as he mutters through gritted teeth, “That motherfucker…”

His reaction makes your chest tighten, a mixture of relief and guilt washing over you. He’s angry... angrier than you’ve ever seen him but you know it’s not directed at you. It’s the thought of his brother’s cruel manipulation, the pain you endured in silence, that has his blood boiling.

"I'll be right back." Jungkook says firmly, already standing up and walking away with purpose. Panic rises in your chest as you quickly catch up to him, already guessing where he’s headed. "Jungkook, no... wait, stop." you plead, reaching out to grab his arm.

He stops abruptly, turning to face you and holding your shoulders gently but firmly. His dark eyes lock onto yours, filled with resolve. "Y/n, just trust me." he says, his voice steady yet reassuring. "He won’t be able to do anything. I’ll make sure... I’ll make sure you and Beomgyu are safe. I promise."

You open your mouth to protest, but he shakes his head, cutting you off before the words can escape. "I need to put him in his place." he breathes out, his jaw tightening. "He needs to know he can’t talk to you like that. He needs to understand what you mean to me." His voice softens slightly, the tenderness in his gaze making your heart ache.

"Just stay here with Beomgyu." he continues, his tone resolute. "I’ll be back soon. I promise."

Before you can stop him, he steps closer, pressing a tender kiss on your forehead, his touch lingering like a silent vow. Then, without another word, he turns on his heels and strides down the hallway, his determination unwavering. You stand frozen, watching him disappear, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet of the hospital.

//

Jungkook barges into his brother's home office, the door slamming against the wall with a loud bang. Junghyun glances up from his computer, a bemused expression on his face. "Oh, Jungkook? Didn’t expect you to visit on a Sunday. What brings you—"

His sentence is cut off abruptly as Jungkook strides over, grabbing his collar and yanking him to his feet. Before Junghyun can even process what’s happening, a powerful punch lands squarely on his cheek. He stumbles back, clutching his face in shock, but Jungkook doesn’t let him regain his footing.

With a growl of anger, Jungkook throws another punch, the impact snapping Junghyun’s head to the side. The metallic tang of blood fills the air as a crimson streak trickles from Junghyun's split lip.

"Jungkook!" Junghyun finally manages to shout, his voice laced with both pain and disbelief. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately, his chest heaving as he towers over his brother. His fists clench and unclench, the anger rolling off him in waves. "That’s for threatening Y/n." he snarls, his voice dangerously low. "You think you can mess with her? Intimidate her like that? Not while I’m here."

Junghyun glares at him, wiping the blood from his lip, his shock slowly giving way to a cold smirk. "So, this is about her?" he mutters, his tone mocking despite his obvious discomfort. "You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment, Jungkook. How pathetic."

But Jungkook doesn’t flinch. Instead, he grabs Junghyun by the collar again, pulling him close. "Listen to me." he says through gritted teeth. "Stay away from her. If you ever even think about going near her or Beomgyu again, I swear, you’ll regret it."

Jungkook lets go of Junghyun with a forceful shove, sending him sprawling back into his chair. "All this for a girl like her? Really Jungkook?" Junghyun scoffs, his tongue poking the inside of cheek. "You have no idea what she means to me." Jungkook says lowly, glaring at his brother.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, his fists still clenched at his sides. His voice drops to a low, dangerous tone. "You have no idea what she means to me." he says, his glare unwavering. "And you never will."

Junghyun chuckles bitterly, his face twisted in disdain, but before he can retort, Jungkook steps closer, his presence commanding. "Do you think Dad’s going to be proud when he hears what you’ve been up to?" Jungkook asks, his words sharp and deliberate.

Junghyun’s smirk falters ever so slightly. "You think he’ll be okay with you going around threatening people? Manipulating them? Using fear to get your way?" Jungkook continues, his voice rising slightly. "You’re the pathetic one, hyung."

He pauses, letting his words sink in, then laughs... a dry, humorless sound. "And you know what’s really pathetic? That you thought I wouldn’t find out. That you thought I’d just let it slide."

Junghyun’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing, but he stays silent, his confidence clearly shaken. Jungkook steps back, his glare never leaving his brother. "This is your last warning. Stay away from her. Stay away from Beomgyu. Because if you don’t..." He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "You won’t just have Dad to deal with. You’ll have me."

Without waiting for a response, Jungkook straightens up and strides out of the office, slamming the door behind him, leaving Junghyun to stew in his own discomfort and rising dread.

//

As you help Beomgyu inside your house, he pauses for a moment, letting his eyes wander around the familiar space. His gaze lands on the corner of the room, behind the couch, and a smirk tugs at his lips. "You still haven't gotten rid of that weird vase?" he teases, pointing at the decorative piece.

You roll your eyes, shutting the door behind you. "That's never gonna happen." you reply with a shrug, playfully glaring at him.

He shakes his head in mock disapproval before taking a seat on the couch. The cold fabric causes him to shiver slightly, but he leans back, closing his eyes. "Well... it's good to be back." he murmurs, exhaling deeply.

You stand there for a moment, watching him. Your heart feels so full it could burst. It almost seems unreal... having him here, in your home, after all this time. "Let me cook you some jjajangmyeon." you suggest, breaking the silence.

His eyes snap open, a grin spreading across his face. "Oh my god, how did you know I was craving exactly that?" he asks, his tone amused. "It's a sibling thing." you reply with a wink, heading into the kitchen.

As you start preparing the ingredients, your thoughts inevitably drift to Jungkook, especially since you haven't heard from him ever since he left you at the hospital. You can’t help but wonder how he’s handling the situation with Junghyun. The thought of it makes your stomach churn slightly, but you push the anxiety aside.

"So, where’s your little boyfriend?" Beomgyu's voice interrupts your thoughts, his teasing tone carrying from the living room. A shy smile tugs at your lips, but you don’t respond immediately. "Come on..." he continues, his footsteps drawing closer until he’s leaning casually against the kitchen counter.

"I was in a damn coma for four years, and my bitchless sister finally manages to pull someone, and I don’t even get a proper introduction?"

You snort at his choice of words. "Oh, come on, Gyu." you reply, turning to face him with a mock exasperated look. "I’ll introduce you when the time’s... right." He sighs, clearly unimpressed with your answer. "The time’s right when I say it is." he quips, but his grin betrays the affection behind the teasing.

Beomgyu arches a brow at the sudden sound of the doorbell, his smirk widening with curiosity. "Is that who I think it is?" he quips, leaning back against the counter with an air of playful arrogance.

You glance at him, wide-eyed and suddenly flustered. You smile at him briefly before you quickly make your way to the door, your heart thudding in anticipation. The moment you open it, time seems to still. There stands Jungkook, bathed in the soft glow of the porch light, his presence radiating comfort and confidence. His smile is subtle yet powerful, a silent reassurance that everything is under control.

You step outside, quietly closing the door behind you, shielding the moment from your brother's prying gaze. You fidget with your fingers as words evade you. "So...?" you finally manage, your voice trailing off.

Jungkook doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he steps forward, closing the space between you. His arms encircle you in a gentle, protective embrace, his warmth instantly melting away your apprehensions. "I punched him." he says at last, his voice tinged with triumph.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you pull back just enough to search his face. "What?" you ask, your voice rising an octave in disbelief.

"I punched him." he repeats, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips. "Right in the face. You should’ve seen him... completely caught off guard. Like...there's no way he actually had the nerve to mess with my girl."

A mix of shock and amusement washes over you as you lightly smack his chest. "Jungkook! That’s not something to be proud of." you admonish, though the corners of your mouth twitch with an unwilling smile. "Violence isn’t the answer."

His smirk deepens as he tilts his head, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, but in his case, it is."

You shake your head, exhaling a laugh despite yourself. "What am I gonna do with you?" you murmur, your tone caught between exasperation and fondness.

Jungkook’s expression softens, the teasing glimmer in his eyes replaced by an intensity that makes your breath hitch. "Y/N..." he begins, his voice low and steady. "You don’t have to worry anymore. I’ll take care of everything... you, Beomgyu. You’ll both be safe. I promise."

His words hit you hard, the depth of his sincerity leaving you momentarily speechless. He steps even closer, his hands gently cupping your face as his thumbs brush against your cheeks. "I promise you, no one will ever hurt you again. Not while I’m here." he vows, his tone resolute, his gaze locking onto yours.

You nod, your chest swelling with a sense of safety you hadn’t realized you were yearning for. "Just promise me..." he continues, his voice softening. "if anything ever happens again, you’ll tell me. Right away. No hiding, no secrets."

A lump forms in your throat as you nod again, unable to find the words to express the gratitude and trust coursing through you. Jungkook smiles faintly, the tension easing from his features, and he pulls you into another embrace. His arms wrap around you like a fortress, his chin resting lightly atop your head.

"I missed you." you whisper, your voice muffled against his chest.

"I missed you too." he murmurs, his voice filled with emotion as he tightens his hold on you. "More than you know."

After a few long moments, you pull back, your eyes meeting his as the world seems to shrink down to just the two of you. His gaze flickers to your lips, and before you can even register it, he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

The kiss is tender yet fervent, each movement brimming with unspoken emotions. You feel his love, his promise, and his unwavering devotion in the way his lips meld with yours, leaving no room for doubt that this is where you belong. The porch, the cool evening air, the distant sounds of the world... all of it fades into oblivion as you lose yourself in him.

It's as if a colossal weight has finally been lifted from your shoulders, allowing you to breathe freely for the first time in what feels like forever. In this fleeting, surreal moment, the world fades away, leaving only the steady rhythm of your heart and the warmth surrounding you.

Everything about this feels inexplicably right , the way he kisses you, the way his arms embrace you, the way his presence steadies your storm. You feel complete, as though the jagged pieces of your soul have found their perfect fit. You feel whole again.

"Umm, sooo sorry to interrupt the lovebirds." Beomgyu’s voice drawls out, cutting through the tender moment. You and Jungkook both pull apart and turn your heads sharply, only to see him mischievously peeking out of the window right beside the front door. “But, Y/n, your brother, who just got out of a coma, is really, really hungry and would love for you to finish cooking the jjajangmyeon you promised him.”

You roll your eyes, a flush creeping up your cheeks as Jungkook stifles a laugh. "And, of course..." Beomgyu continues, his grin widening. “He’d absolutely love to finally meet your boyfriend.” He emphasizes the last word, wagging his eyebrows dramatically at Jungkook, who chuckles deeply at your brother's antics.

You groan, covering your face in Jungkook’s chest as he wraps an arm protectively around you, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Gyu, you’re unbelievable.” you mumble, your voice muffled.

Beomgyu shrugs nonchalantly. “Hey, priorities, okay? Food first, making out later.” he teases, shooting a mock salute before disappearing back into the house after shutting the window down.

Jungkook looks down at you, his smile soft and amused. “I like him.” he says with a chuckle. You pull back slightly, playfully glaring at him. “Don’t encourage him.” you warn, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays your amusement.

“Come on.” Jungkook says, planting a quick kiss on your forehead. “Let’s go… we can't have your brother starving.” he says.

You laugh, grabbing his hand as the two of you step back inside. The warmth of your house envelops you, and for the first time in forever, you feel okay.

Beomgyu’s playful voice fills the air as he grins from the couch, the sibling bond you thought you’d lost now brighter than ever. Jungkook squeezes your hand, his steady presence a reminder that the hardest days are now way behind you.

In the kitchen, surrounded by laughter and the aroma of cooking, you glance at Jungkook. His soft smile says everything words can’t, filling your heart with a quiet peace.

For the first time in months, you’re not just surviving... you’re actually living. With Beomgyu back where he belongs and Jungkook by your side, your heart feels complete, wrapped in the comforting truth that this... this is what home is meant to feel like.

—fin. ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

my masterlist <3

[cup-o-stars]

Relativity Falls!

Design Concepts (and my unnecessary thoughts):

Excuse the the colors, ig my apps are fighting.

I see Mabel finding success no matter what happens to her, but I really like the thought of her running an insane arts and crafts business in GF. Alternatively, if she fell in the portal, she'd come out acting confident as always, but she probably wouldn't realize how much the constant change and lack of family/stability wore her out until she settled back in. In either case, she's a bit cracked.

Dipper is investigative, but cracks easiest under stress and is not as inherently adventurous as Mabel or Ford- so the portal wouldn't treat him well. If he's not the one in the portal, he'd be into stargazing and real magic to share with people, while also warding tourists away from the dangerous stuff. In general, he'd be an unhappy adult if left to his own devices, lol.

Between Dipper and Mabel, I like Dipper being in the portal more. He's a great protagonist, but as a supporting cast member, he needs to be more insane to match the draw that is 'Mabel taking care of children,' ha. I also love the idea of there being no portal / some other looming threat for these two to struggle with (at least because Hirsche has made it clear that Dipper and Mabel are equally smart, and to me it seems like the portal would reopen way quicker with them), but I didn't plan on posting these and I don't know how my followers feel about me posting lore.

Stanford and Stanley:

Pretty much how they are in canon, but now they're in a setting where they can get over themselves, ha. They aren't quite as mature as Dipper and Mabel were at their age, but after coming to GF, they finally found other people to look out for them. Dipper could be a more emotionally available and level-headed role model (I think having people to take care of is calming for him in turn), and they'd both look up to Mabel as the peak of somebody who knows how to socialize.

Fiddleford:

He's a sweet, southern, farm-raised mechanical engineer just like in canon.

Idk why Fiddleford is in GF (visiting an unnamed grandparent?), but I really like his relationship with Ford in the journal. Following that thought, in this AU, he starts out more of Ford's friend than Stan's, and it's kind of a big deal. Unlike Dipper's arc on learning to be a kid, Stan and Ford clearly struggled a lot with interpersonal relationships / finding security outside of eachother, and that's what I think this AU could be about (it's great they realized they need each other in canon, but the part where they had no one else to turn to is also kinda crazy if you ask me).

Ford gets to meet another smart kid in a weird town, which helps him feel more normal. He has a better idea of what friendship is because of it, but also, since I can't imagine Dipper wanting an apprentice so young/vulnerable/impressionable or Mabel asking only one of the twins to stay- he'd have to come to terms with the fact that he can't live in his dream world forever. (Or maybe the apprenticeship comes from somewhere else, just because the conflict around going back to Glass Shard Beach at all, or sending Stan alone could be pretty good.)

On the flipside, I think Stan's initial jealousy of Ford and Fiddleford's friendship would force him to try finding his own friends / hobbies. I like the idea that he fails at first- and a lot- but Mabel notices his mounting frustration (which he is very keen on hiding), and her consistent and unorthodox support makes him realize he wasn't alone to begin with. He can be more open around her, which makes it easier to open up to others, and then he can make friends without having to pull any tricks. He probably starts with some animals, and then at least gets closer to Fiddleford anyways (I feel like they're both more practical than Ford and value human company more, so they'd bond easier once Stan gets over his personal hurdle).

Anyways- because that was way too much- Mabel's exes are a constant source of antagonists and Dipper is stressed about setting a good example.

(I was more of a Monster Falls fan back in the day, but I can't draw animals, lol)

[affableramen]

no nut november day 1. how to make them come for the really horny darlings who read my smol insignificant blog :)

crack, smut, established relationships mature themes, minors dni

Wriothesley:

he loves when you choke him really well. he goes crazy once your hands start squeezing his neck

grabbing or scratching his butt. Wriothesley loves when you touch his rounded ass, and if you do he will definitely lose it

Tartaglia:

when you moan loudly, tartaglia loses his mind. he loves when you vocalise your sensations and satisfaction

praising him. tartaglia is not very experienced in bed activities, so he’d be really grateful if you kept praising him while having sex cause it makes him feel encouraged to proceed.

Neuvillette:

being on your knees for him (he does not expect that from anyone because he is such a humble individual, and it turns him on almost instantly)

when you take charge and offer him to have sex by your initiative. do not get me wrong, neuvillette is anything but submissive man, however even he gets tired of being constantly the controlling one. he wants you to be bold and shameless too

Pantalone:

when you play with, pull or grip his hair, it makes pantalone go insane. he is very sensitive to your touch in general, and he especially loves it when you try to tease him by playing with his wavy locks. he will be turned on immensely

when you touch his nipples (his erogenous zone. rub them nice and well, he will cum hard, mumbling “have mercy on me” to you)

Ayato:

dirty talking to him (praising his cock mostly) he loves his sex a bit dirty and overstimulating

when you slightly dominate him. this man is fed and sick of people constantly servicing him and seeing his s/o showing responsibility and taking a bold action like riding him will make him nut wildly

Capitano:

squeezing him inside. his manhood is thick, and the tip is fat enough to make him feel things when you suddenly tense up. capitano will give in to his passion, you will hear loud impatient grunting escaping his mouth that you never knew you needed

when you call him by his real name. in most circumstances capitano hates it when someone mentions his true old name, but when you do it during intimate moments he simply goes nuts for you. the way his name falls from your lips when he thrusts into you fast and hard enough just gets him going

Alhaitham:

he adores when you scratch his back. you always fear hurting him, but alhaitham wears your marks proudly and insists on you to not hold your passion in. he needs more of those blooming red marks of lust on his body

when you assist his thrusts by forcing your hips closer to him. he enjoys when you participate in love making equally to him, and will definitely cum unexpectedly generously if you continue

Dottore:

when you play by his rules. dottore is a very old and assertive man who’s used to things happen his way. at first he will kindly ask you to follow his lead but later on he will be incredibly blunt and dominant with you

when you use his vibrator on himself. not to mention him liking impressing you with new toys, when you grab one and press it against his skin, he will squirt his release earlier and thicker than expected

Dainsleif:

when you moan or whisper sweet nothings into his ear. this makes him particularly horny, especially given how much your voice turns him on in a private setting

when you try to unnoticeably run your hands over his hips. there is something about your claws grazing over his strong legs that makes him go completely frenzied for you

Baizhu:

when you bite his ears and neck. baizhu has those very sensitive and he will come almost instantly if you tease the delicious earlobes and neck of his.

when you wear sexy outfits. he likes to take you when you’re wearing those naughty, revealing but incredibly gorgeous outfits. he practically loses control of his arousal and can come even prematurely simply because he is staring at your beautiful body

[sapphire-writes]

Beyond The Play

college!Art x college!Reader

summary: Tashi needs some time alone with her man, which leaves you without a room for the night.

word count: 3.8k

rating: mature/explicit/18+

warnings: alcohol, fingering, dry humping, p in v sex with a condom, light praise, titty sucking, there's only one bed oh no!!

a/n: thanks for all the love on my first Challengers fic! hope you enjoy this one!

“You are so fucked,” Art says, taking another sip of his beer.

“Shut up.”

“He’s right,” Tashi agrees, sighing heavily, glancing at her cards.

You’re all sitting on the floor of your and Tashi’s dorm room, half-empty beer bottles littering the floor between you. You’d been playing poker for the past hour or so, swindling more of Patrick and Art’s money. It’d become a Friday night habit of yours, card games and beer with Patrick and Art. Patrick was always a maybe, he only came to visit his girlfriend a couple times a semester. 

But you, Art, and Tashi were always a solid trio. Tashi and Art had met through tennis of course, and you had met Art through Tashi after rooming with her freshman year of college. You’d become fast friends, and roommates for the next several years. You got along with Patrick well enough, you had to once he and Tashi started dating.

You could tell that had been a sore spot for Art, at least for a while. You’d suspected he’d had a thing for Tashi, and fire and ice hadn’t been the same since. You’d once asked Tashi about it and she’d only shrugged. Even though she was with Patrick for now, you knew Tashi had only one true love. 

Whatever Art felt for Tashi was easily molded into friendship, and the three of you became nearly inseparable. Which was good, even if you may or may not have developed some feelings of your own for the blond tennis player. 

But your friendship was more important. Those feelings could be pushed aside.

“God damn it,” Patrick curses, “I fold.”

Tashi snickers, revealing her cards and Patrick swears once more. 

“I need a smoke,” Patrick says, standing and leaning across Tashi’s bed to the open window.

“Oh no you don’t,” Tashi says, standing at lightning speed, “Outside, we are not getting in trouble for this.”

She grabs Patrick by the shirt collar, dragging him off the bed. He dramatically chokes, but lets her drag him towards the door.

“Art come on,” Patrick insists, reaching for his best friend.

“What? No, I wanna stay,” Art says, sandy hair falling in front of his eyes, “You don’t need a babysitter—”

“Yes I do,” Patrick insists, “C’mon five minutes, I swear.”

The boys tumble into the hall and you can hear their voices fading as they make their way outside. You stand from the floor, gathering up some beer bottles, and folding up the empty pizza box.

“Hey, d’you think you could sleep somewhere else tonight?” Tashi asks, brown eyes wide, “It’s Patrick’s last night, and y’know we really haven’t had any alone time.”

Your chest constricts at the thought. You totally get where she’s coming from but, it’s your room too. The thought of sleeping in the common area is less enticing. 

“Or at least just for a couple of hours,” Tashi backtracks, seeing your expression, “Just so we can—”

“Yeah, Tash it’s fine,” you tell her, swallowing your annoyance. Tashi’s been nothing but thoughtful and kind as a roommate, and friend. It’s an inconvenient favor, but nothing crazy. “I’ll get out of your hair for a couple of hours.”

“You’re the best,” she says, kissing your cheek, “Seriously, I owe you one.”

“You sure do,” you tell her, “I expect full payment for this.”

“Do you mean a trip to the movies with slurpees and popcorn?” Tashi asks, raising her eyebrows. 

“With extra butter,” you clarify and point at her, “You’re not cheaping out on me.”

“I’d never,” she insists, feigning seriousness before breaking into a grin. 

You finish helping Tashi clean up and begin your excommunication from your room. Walking down the hallway you bump into Patrick and Art on their way back from Patrick’s smoke break.

“What’re you doing out here? You start smoking?” Art asks as Patrick keeps walking past you, picking up the pace, “Hey where…”

“Party’s over,” you tell him, as Patrick turns the corner, eager to return to Tashi now that she’s alone.

Art frowns, confused.

“But we were—”

“Art,” you cut him off and place your hands on his shoulders, shaking him slightly, “Party’s over. Unless you’re eager to be a third.”

Art’s cheeks flush and he glances away, forcing out a laugh. Something tugs at your heart watching his half-smile appear. 

“Uh yeah ... .no thanks,” he says and you pat his shoulders before releasing them, “Wait but where are you going to go?”

You shrug, “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“You can’t just wander around campus, it’s like 2 am,” Art says, beckoning you with his hand, “Come back to my room, at least till they’re done.”

“Really?” you ask, “Cause if you’re tired I can just—”

“Don’t be silly,” Art says, poking your shoulder, “C’mon.”

Art’s room is in a separate building on campus, about a five-minute walk from you and Tashi’s building. Art is lucky enough to have a single; you’d been there a handful of times before class or practice. He keeps his room neat, aside from some clothes scattered on the floor from quick changes before practice. You smile as he hurriedly picks them up, throwing them into a hamper in his closet.

His bed is unmade, navy sheets messy as though he’d just woken up. 

“Sorry bout the mess,” he says, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“I’m not judging, you’re cleaner than most guys I’ve met,” you tell him and he laughs. 

Suddenly, it hits you how late it is, sleepiness hitting you like a train as you yawn. This triggers Art’s yawn and the pair of you stand awkwardly in front of each other. 

“Um,” Art says suddenly, “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” you agree, stomach sinking, “I can just—”

“You should stay.”

You’re silent at that. You stare at him, as he nervously plays with the hem of his t-shirt, waiting for your reaction. You’re not sure what to say. It’s fine, right? Just a friend, helping out another friend.

A friend whom you have a big fat annoying crush on.

“I mean….it’s just late and you’re tired and who knows when they’ll be done.”

“I don’t have anything with me,” you tell him, voice sounding softer, meeker than you’d like.

“Oh, here I got you,” he says, walking to his dresser. He shuffles through the drawer a moment before revealing a shirt and clean boxers, “Just did laundry today. You can….you can change in the bathroom. I even have an extra toothbrush.”

You roll your eyes at that, taking the clothes from him. 

“Okay,” you agree.

“Bathroom’s right there.”

You nod, quickly making your way across the room and into the bathroom. You close the door and quickly change, finding Art’s spare toothbrush unopened in a goodie bag from the dentist shoved into a spare drawer. You quickly wash your face, brush your teeth, and change into his clothes. The shirt is baggy, with Stanford Men’s Tennis written across the front. It smells like him, like his detergent and his cologne and you can’t help but greedily inhale.

When you exit the bathroom, Art dips in, leaving the door open as he brushes his teeth. You place your clothes in a pile on his desk, awkwardly waiting for him. When he emerges, he’s wearing only his boxers and a gray t-shirt.

“I’ll take the floor,” Art says, his face turning beet red, “You can have the bed.”

“Art no,” you insist, “It’s your room. I’ll take the floor, it’s only fair—”

“Yeah that is not happening,” he says, satisfied smirk on his face, “Tashi’d kill me if she found out I made you sleep on the floor.”

“We could…..” you wet your lips, struggling to get the words out, “We could share the bed?”

Art watches you, his eyes wide. You watch his Adam’s apple bobs as he contemplates your question. Suddenly your pulse quickens, and embarrassment floods your body, and your face flushes. You turn away from him, scooting onto the bed.

“I mean only—”

“—if you’re comfortable,” Art finishes and you shut your mouth. You both giggle at the overlapping sentences.

“Yeah, I’m comfortable, Art,” you tell him, patting the space beside you, “Come on.”

Art moves onto the bed and you push closer to the wall. He’s so close when he lies down beside you, stretching his arm above your head. You’ve grown accustomed to the moonlit room and at this distance, you can almost count each eyelash that frames his blue eyes. 

“Is this okay?” he whispers, minty breath wafting over your face, making your head spin.

“Mhmm,” is all you can manage as the heat of his body warms you under the covers.

He’s silent then and you lay there for a moment, watching each other, listening to your shared breathing. Art chuckles then.

“What?”

“It’s just…” he trails off, “Nothing, it’s silly.”

“What is it?”

“You’re the first girl I’ve shared a bed with,” he admits, shyly glancing away from your gaze.

“Art Donaldson,” your tone is teasing, “I find that rather hard to believe.”

“It’s true,” he insists, brows furrowing together, “I mean….I’m not saying—wait” he wets his lips nervously, “I’m not a virgin—”

Your eyebrows raise, a smile curling at the corner of your lips. No, you did not doubt that. 

“Not that anything’s wrong with that, I just—wait and not to imply—”

“Art!” you cut him off, reaching forward and pressing your fingers against his lips, “I’m kidding. Don’t freak out.”

“M’not,” he mumbles, lips moving against your fingers.

“I’m fucking with you, Donaldson,” you whisper, taking your hand back, “I know you’re a gentleman.”

“Thank Christ,” he says with an exaggerated exhale causing you to giggle once more. He watches you, a smile on his face, eyes flickering to your lips.

Your face heats up as he wets his lips. Suddenly, nervousness flutters in your belly, and your heart flutters in your chest.

“Goodnight,” you tell him, turning away from him to face the wall.

You wait for his response, hoping he’s not disappointed. Disappointed about what, you’re not sure. 

“Goodnight,” he says softly and you close your eyes.

You wake up early. Birds are chirping outside the window, golden sunlight is beginning to bleed into the room, and Art’s chest is smushed firmly against your back. His arm is curled around your middle, hand splayed under your shirt and on your tummy, face buried in the crook of your neck. He’s so warm, his presence so comforting, you just want to close your eyes and melt back into him. 

Art groans in his sleep, moving his hips slightly and your eyes snap open.

Oh, Art.

He’s pressed firmly against your backside, rock-hard, hips unconsciously grinding against you. Your mouth falls open slightly feeling him against you, the hard outline of his cock bullying against your ass. Art groans again, hand on your stomach pushing you closer to him.

A breathy sigh escapes you and your head falls back against him slightly. 

“Art,” you breathe, answered with another groan, this one edging on a whimper. His hips gyrate, cock pressing against you with need, “Oh God…”

You swallow, breathing becoming more shallow. Your pussy clenches, and you can feel the growing wetness in the boxers Art had lent you, thighs pressing together desperate to relieve some of the pressure.

“Art wake up!” 

Art wakes with a start, head pulled from your shoulder. You can’t see him, but you feel him tense, the warmth of his body ripped from yours as he lurches backward, right off the edge of the bed. He falls with a yelp, hitting the floor with a loud thud. You sit up turning toward him. 

“Fuck!” he says, scrambling to sit and hide his erection, “Shit, I’m so sorry!” His face is red and he grabs a pillow, placing it over his lap, “God–fuck, I’m so sorry I was asleep—” He keeps stuttering, unable to meet your eyes. 

“Art.”

“It’s just biological you know, just morning wood, I would never do anything without your explicit consent–enthusiastic consent!”

“Art…”

“And I would never want to ruin anything between us, ever–”

“Art!”

His head snaps toward you then, eyes meeting yours. His mouth hangs open, eyes watery as he looks up at you. He looks so sad, so embarrassed, and disappointed. And something else as well. Worried, perhaps. 

“Get back up here,” you tell him.

Art’s mouth remains open in shock as he glances at the bed.

“Now?”

“Yes, right now.”

Art scrambles to rejoin you on the bed, lying beside you. He faces you just as he did last night, sandy hair falling across his forehead. You smile softly at his disheveled appearance and his flushed cheeks.

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop talking,” you tell him, reaching forward and brushing some hair from his face. You let your hand trail around to the nape of his neck, fingers curling in his hair. “You have my consent.”

Art’s eyes widen, lips parting in shock.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” you tell him, pulling yourself closer. His hand drifts to your hip, anchoring himself to it. “Explicit, enthusiastic, all yours.”

The last word has barely left your lips before he’s leaning forward, pressing his lips against your own. They’re warm and soft, he kisses you with innocent eagerness, the hand on your hip pulling you flush against him. You lift your leg, hitching it around his thigh, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging slightly, earning a moan against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he moans against your lips, “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.”

Something deep inside your belly warms at his admission. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” he answers, kissing you again, “Since freshman year.”

“Why didn’t you…..oh fuck..” your question trails off as Art mouths your neck, sucking and biting the tender skin.

“Didn’t want to ruin anything,” he mumbles, kissing your collarbone. 

You hum at his answer, tilting your head to give him better access. His hand moves from your hip bone, up under your shirt—his shirt. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, mouth returning to your lips.

“Yes,” you tell him, “Please touch me.”

You can feel his smile against your lips as he does what you ask, fingers grazing the underside of your breast. Pushing against him, his hand cups your breast, squeezing lightly. You pull away from his lips briefly, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it to the end of the bed. Art’s eyes devour you and he kisses you desperately as he continues to play with your tits. 

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing down your neck until he reaches the top of your chest. 

Art’s lips move across the tops of your breasts, as though he’s struggling with choosing which one to lavish with attention. Luckily for you, he decides rather quickly and latches his mouth to your right nipple, thumb, and forefinger, tweaking the opposite. Your back arches as he gently bites down, sucking the hardened peak harshly before releasing it with a pop. 

“Art.”

He simply moans, ignoring your cries as he brings his mouth to your opposite nipple, repeating his previous action. Pleasure winds a current in your lower belly, your thighs clench as he repeats his little torture, alternating back and forth between your breasts. You grab his hair, tugging him not too gently until he glances up at you, cheeks red, lips glossy and puckered. 

He’s too pretty.

You pull him back to your lips, kissing him feverishly while trying to rid yourself of the clothing you have left. Art feels you squirming and assists, hands moving the boxers down your legs until you’re able to kick them off at your ankles. Your hands move to him next, eager to even the playing field. 

You tear his shirt over his head revealing his toned stomach from countless hours on the court. Your mouth waters at the sight before Art is on you once more, lips capturing yours in another heated kiss. His hand returns to your hip, curling against it before he reaches further, squeezing your ass.

You smile against his mouth as he squeezes again. 

“You’re just fucking perfect, aren’t you?” he murmurs, returning your smile.

His hand grazes down the back of your thigh before venturing to the front where your legs meet. Your breathing becomes more labored the closer he gets to your hot center. 

“Can I?” he asks, so softly, you nearly drown out his question with your heavy breath.

“Yes,” you tell him, and that’s all he needs. 

Art slides a curious finger between your wet folds, gently circling your clit. Your mouth falls open as he continues.

“You’re so wet,” he remarks, dipping his finger lower, and finding your entrance. 

He lets his middle finger sink into you, met with little resistance. Your walls greedily accept him as he curls his finger upwards, beginning to pump it in and out. Stars explode behind your eyes and you moan, clutching onto his shoulder.

Art smirks, eyes aglow at the pleasured noises you emit.

“That feel good?”

“Yes—fuck,” you squeak as he presses another finger inside of you, “Oh god.”

“Yeah?” 

Art crooks his fingers against your velvety walls, pressing against that special spot inside of you that has your head lolling against him, moans spilling from your lips. His thumb joins, caressing your sensitive clit in time with the strokes of his fingers. 

“Feels so good,” you moan, “I’m so close.”

“Yeah? You're gonna come for me?” he asks, kissing your neck. Your fingers tangle themselves in his blonde hair, tugging harshly, your orgasm building deep in your belly, “Come on baby, come on my fingers, I wanna feel this pretty pussy come.”

His words send you over the edge and your pussy clenches around his digits as you come, thighs shaking from the intensity as warmth floods through you.

“That was so hot,” Art says, kissing you, still buried to the knuckles inside you, “You’re so hot. Let me fuck you, please.”

You hum against his lips as he carefully removes his fingers from your warmth. He pulls away, bringing his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean. You watch him awestruck as he moans, eyes closing at the taste of you.

“Get inside me,” you tell him, “Right now.”

Art doesn’t need to be told twice, sitting up and pulling his boxers off as you lay on your back. Your eyes drift down his stomach to his cock. It’s pretty, just like the rest of him. Long, girthy, a neat tuft of dark sandy colored hair at the base. The tip flushed red and weeping as he strokes himself. 

“Condom?” you ask, and he nods, walking to his desk and rummaging through the first drawer. 

He comes up successful, ripping the wrapper with his teeth and rolling the condom on his length before crawling on top of you. You spread your legs for him as he lines himself up, rubbing the tip along your soaked slit. 

“Art, please put it in,” you whine, hips lifting.

“Jesus, I’m not gonna last long if you keep that up,” he says, shaking his head.

Your responding giggle is short-lived as he slowly sinks inside of you, filling you to the brim.

“Oh god,” you whimper, as he rests his forehead against yours.

“You okay?”

“More than okay,” you answer, cupping his cheek. He mirrors your action and you smile, a sudden burst of tenderness exploding in your chest, tears welling in your eyes. 

Art rotates his hips, pulling back and sinking back into your inviting warmth. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs, kissing your lips, “I’ve dreamt of this for years.”

“Me too,” you admit, wrapping your legs around his waist, “God, Art, I’ve wanted this forever.”

This spurs him on, his thrusts becoming quicker, more eager at your confession. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you whimper as he pounds into you, “Wanted this for so long—used to talk to….to Tashi about it—”

Art moves his hand along your side, reaching your thigh and hooking your leg over his shoulder.

“What’d you tell her?”

The new angle sends him deeper, the head of his cock rubbing perfectly against that spongy section of your walls that has your mouth dropping open in pleasure.

“Wanted you,” you manage as Art holds one of your hands above your head against the pillows, “Wanted this so bad.”

“I’ll give it to you,” Art says, his breath catching, “Fuck—oh god you’re so pretty like this, fuck.”

“Art!” you cry his name as your second orgasm builds, sneaking up on you as he slows his pace, “Why’d you—”

“Wanna savor this,” he says softly, kissing the tip of your nose. His thrusts have slowed, hips moving with leisure. 

The pressure in your belly continues to build as he smirks down at you. Tennis has done wonders to his stamina; he fucks you like he could keep this pace for hours, barely breaking a sweat. You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows as he kisses your neck, your hamstring burning deliciously with the stretch. 

“Please come for me,” he murmurs, right next to your ear, “I’ve got to feel that sweet little pussy come around my cock, please.”

You do as you’re told, spurred on by Art whispering praises and encouragement in your ear and you fall apart, clenching around his cock and milking him for all he’s worth. You feel his hips stutter, cock twitching inside your warmth as he follows your release with his own. Art’s lips find yours then, and you can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you like a drowning man coming up for air. 

You stay like that for several minutes, his cock softening as you kiss one another, before he slowly pulls out. He takes a moment to take off the condom, tying it off and tossing it in the trash before he rejoins you in bed.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you across his chest. 

You lie with your cheek pressed against his pec, listening to the gentle beating of his heart. He strokes your arm with his fingers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Did you mean what you said?” he asks, face buried in your hair, “About wanting me? This?”

“Mhmm,” you answer, putting all your cards on the table, “I may have harbored a small crush on you.”

Art picks up your hand measuring it against his own before lacing your fingers together.

“I wish I knew that earlier,” he admits, still holding your hand, “I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

You glance up at him between your lashes and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says with a smile.

“And here I thought Patrick was the only one who owned your heart,” you tease, causing him to playfully bite your wrist, “Hey!”

“Not the only one,” he admits, rolling you over onto your back, “I’m glad you got kicked out of your room last night.”

You lean up, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Me too.”

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