#and have fun poking around at the other playlists :)

[shepscapades]

〚 UNGLUED 〛DBHC: ETHO’s Official Playlist

Finally, Etho’s finished playlist is here!! This really feels like the culmination of Etho’s story built over the years and finally put down on paper, so below the cut is a detailed plot breakdown of every single song on this playlist—a small love letter from me to everyone who has been so supportive of this story and my art!

Also, I’ve uploaded WIP versions of every other DBHC playlist I currently have in the works to the account in the link, so if you’re interested in what songs are currently on other characters’ playlists, I’ll be updating the playlists on the 'Shepscapades' account every other week or so ;)

Thank you again to everyone who has been so patient with me over the years and who has been so kind and supportive! <3

[silence-ofthe-llamas]

More TexAid Mecha AU-AU stuff!

No warnings for once - Vortex doesn't get to mangle anyone. Poor boy...

Also the Combaticon playlist is here; https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3pyBRAuoKYDEpAFaTm9j5j?si=bf63cc6e018d4ab9 It's very nostalgic to me so it was fun to make!

He got what he wanted. He thought. That’s what he was telling himself, at least – he got Vortex to stop fucking killing people.

The pilots uniform sat awkwardly on him. He didn’t have the muscle the other pilots did, the bulk to their frame that made it sit handsomely on them. He’d always been described as a twig of a boy growing up, and he didn’t fill out much as he grew into his skeleton. Stood in front of the mirror, he missed his medics uniform. It really didn’t suit him.

The back of his head hurt. The surgery had been quick – he had a suspicion Pharma didn’t use as much anaesthetic as he should have, he felt every movement of the scalpel, every connection of the nerves. He tried hard to ignore it and not inspect the swollen, angry flesh with his bare hands.

Spiteful bastard. He hadn’t spoken to him since he’d thrust his transfer documentation into his hands. His lips had been pressed tightly together, locking in the words he was desperate to say. First Aid thought it might have had something to do with the fact that Fortress Maximus was right behind him.

The other pilots treated him like a pariah. First Aid supposed that he was – the mech he piloted was reported to be haunted. The aftermath was graphic. He had been tasked with cleaning it, and now he was the next sacrificial lamb. There was no point in breaking bread with him – he’d be a dead man soon enough. Every time he stepped out whole was pure luck – he didn’t have the training, there was no skill involved. It was only a matter of time until the hourglass ran out and he’d be scrubbed from the cracks with a toothbrush like everyone else was.

Lunch was a lonely affair. Dinner was even lonelier. He ate breakfast in his room on his own – a benefit of being a pilot was having your own room, but he wished more than anything that he had a roommate. Someone who would be forced to talk to him, to take the edge off the loneliness.

The only social interaction he had was Vortex, and even that was limited. Nobody liked for anyone to get too close to him unnecessarily, First Aid included – but for fucks sake it was his mech, who were they to tell him that he wasn’t allowed to go near it?

The exception to the apathy was Perceptor. Every time he saw him, the man was studying him from afar like he were an animal at a safari. The confrontation would come soon enough – he had been the only one to notice that he was there that day he’d stolen the uniform. He must have known what he’d done, put the pieces together with ease. It wasn’t hard – he’d caught the medic red handed in the pilots quarters, and then not long after he’d mysteriously been in possession of a pilots suit and had been dragged by the cuff out of Vortex upon return to the Shatterdome. Honestly, it was childs play.

Dinner that evening played out as usual. First Aid sat down as far away as he could from everyone else, and not long after the other occupants of the table started to leave like he was diseased. He poked at his dinner – apparently, pilots received meals that were far more varied and clearly had a bigger budget than the ones served in the medics quarters did, but still pretty dire and bland – and wondered what he’d read that evening. His legs still hurt from training, and as his implants were still healing he wasn’t allowed to get back into his mech yet, so he’d had to ignore the sirens – his name was still popping up on the board of pilots being summoned, and he could see an aura of rage simmering around Vortex every time. He’d made a point to look apologetic at the cameras and vaguely gesture to the back of his head – connecting now would fry him to the point where they’d never connect again. There wouldn’t be enough time in the drop for him to show him everything he wanted to – Vortex would run out of fuel and he’d die of dehydration before they got to the point of being satisfied. He would have to be patient.

A tray clattered down opposite him. First Aid flinched, and looked up in surprise.

Perceptor.

He subtly glanced around them – nobody was paying them any attention. They were in their own bubble of privacy in the crowd, their words obscured by passing conversations.

“Felix Anwyl, correct?”

“Uhm. Yes? Can I help you? Do you require medical assistance?” He grimaced as his training kicked in – the wrong training. He wasn’t allowed to be a medic any more. Pharma had been extremely clear about that.

“I didn’t think you functioned as a medic.” Perceptor sat down opposite him, neatly folding his hands down on top of the table.

“Force of habit.”

“I see.” His eyes were intense, and First Aid felt like a mouse under the gaze of a hawk. Suddenly, he realised why he was the only ultra-long distance pilot.

“I was a big fan of you as a kid. Collected all the trading cards and stuff.”

Perceptor ignored him. “I was curious about what kind of person you were. Sneaking into the pilots quarters, stealing a suit just to get into a mech. At first I thought you were just some gullible young fool who fancied themselves a hero, that you’d bought into the idea of piloting being some glamorous lifestyle, but that’s not quite it, is it?”

“He was killing them.” First Aid quietly replied. He wanted to look away from the eyes that were looking straight through him, but he couldn’t. “He’d made it clear what he wanted, but nobody would listen – I couldn’t stand any more people dying. Just because they’re cadets, doesn’t make it okay to sacrifice them like that.”

“He?”

“Vortex.”

“You’re talking as if it’s actually alive.”

“Haven’t you heard the rumours?” First Aid quirked a brow. “That he’s haunted?”

“Ghosts don’t exist.”

“You’re not very fun.” First Aid poked at his mashed potato. “Fine. Call it the Tamagotchi effect then, or anthropomorphism. I’m not a trained pilot, it’s different for me.”

“Your colleagues aren’t either, but none of them refer to Vortex as a ‘he’.”

“They’re terrified of… them.”

“And you’re not?”

He was, but not for the same reasons. “Not really.” It was like asking him if he was afraid of his reflection.

Perceptor hummed. He turned to his own dinner – he neatly chopped up his sausage with the blunt knives they’d been provided with and chewed carefully. First Aid felt himself fall into a sense of security, thinking it was over, and took a spoonful of his mashed potato.

“How did you learn to pilot, then?” He suddenly asked.

“Huh?”

“You said you’re not a trained pilot, and I know just by looking that you’re telling the truth. You’re a medic. Your clothes still smell of disinfectant and bleach. But the way your mech moves… That’s a fully trained veteran.”

“The AI kind of just… handles it all.” First Aid hoped his expression wasn’t too awful, he felt his face twitching. “I guess with how many pilots he’s had, he’s had plenty of time to memorise it all.”

“I suppose so.”

Perceptor didn’t ask about it again. He pulled out a paper to read, and First Aid had made the mistake of asking him a question about it in attempt to be polite. Thirty minutes later and he was still talking – the words had stopped making sense twenty-five ago.

One lunch time, he’d had enough of the solitary lifestyle he was being forced to lead and the lack of things to do with his hands since Pharma still hadn’t let him back into the medical bay and the brass had caught him running a clinic from his quarters. He grabbed his portion – it looked like it was some kind of soup today – the accompanying bread roll and fruit pot, filled his flask with coffee and marched down the catwalk, sitting himself directly in front of Vortex before popping the lid off and inspecting what the canteen had served that day. It was bright red. Obnoxiously so. He paused and checked the label again.

Yup. That sure was food, alright. Beetroot, beef, pork, assorted vegetables. The good stuff.

… He didn’t know beetroot could get that red.

Vortex’s cockpit popped open with a hiss. First Aid secured the lid back on and hopped on inside.

[WHAT DID YOU GET TODAY?] He asked. For a man without a mouth, he was always curious about what was for lunch.

“I have no idea what it is, but it is bright red.” First Aid replied, sitting down in the pilots seat and popping the lid back off again. He felt Vortex tremble as the cameras zoomed in on it.

[YOU’RE FLIRTING WITH ME NOW <3]

“You know what this is?” First Aid offered it to the camera. “It’s warm.”

[BORSCHT. YOU DON’T KNOW IT? PILOTS GET IT ALL THE TIME.]

“Medics don’t get fed so well.” First Aid made himself comfortable and took a curious sip. “Oh. That’s something.” He pulled a face.

[NOT TO YOUR TASTES?]

“I hate beetroot.” First Aid stuck his tongue out. He poked a lone piece of pork with his spoon. “It infects everything it touches with mud.”

[CHILD.]

“I would say you eat it then, but…”

The helmet loudly dropped, smacking him in the head. First Aid yelped, narrowing his eyes at the camera pointed at him. “Pot calling the kettle black much?”

[I CAN TASTE THROUGH YOU, YOU KNOW. PUT IT ON.]

The connection at the back of his head was mostly healed. It was safe, they could connect without any issues as of his check-up that morning - but he still hesitated. The marks on his arms felt hot.

[WHY THE HESITATION?]

[DON’T YOU WANT ME?]

“I don’t want to get into trouble again. Pilots aren’t meant to connect outside of combat.”

They’d been very clear to him on that. He’d been labelled a risk, a liability - he was abnormally attached to his mech. Swindle was starting to look at him funny - and if Swindle was noticing…

[PUSSY. I JUST WANT YOUR TONGUE. FINE, HOW ABOUT THIS.] The helmet disappeared up and another panel popped open. The service connection - engineers could connect using similar technology on tablets to diagnose issues with the mech faster. This was much more acceptable. [YOU WERE BITCHING ABOUT THAT PANEL IN MY FOOT. WANNA CHECK THEY DID THEIR JOB?]

“You’re so clever.” First Aid praised him. He hopped over with his soup, sitting against the wall as he let Vortex plug himself in. He had braced himself for pain and a jolt, the cleaving of his awareness in two, but it felt smooth as butter. A brush of fingers along the nape of his neck, the pressure of someone leaning on his shoulders and resting their chin on his head.

Vortex.

… That damn panel still wasn’t right.

“Borscht?” Vortex reminded him. He sounded more like a man than a machine now.

Obediently, he took another sip. He felt Vortex tremble as a memory pushed against his awareness, just out of reach - a vague sense of it ran through his fingers. A wooden table, dried sunflowers in a repurposed jug decorated in bright designs, hands that were clean and unmarked by years of self-inflicted hardship.

“Damn, that’s the good shit.”

First Aid had finished the whole bowl before he realised it, riding the wave of Vortex’s reaction. He hiccuped, firmly putting the lid back over the bowl.

“I still don’t get how you like that.”

“More for me. I suppose I have a more refined palette.”

“Didn’t you smoke? You probably couldn’t taste anything.”

“Heh. Excuses excuses~ You sound jealous.”

First Aid pouted. “Do not.”

“Do too. Come on, don’t be shy, I like it when you get a jealous streak.”

“When have I ever been jealous over you!” First Aid squeaked in embarrassment. Vortex rumbled, memories pushed against him - his face twisted in a shape he didn’t recognise when other people were cleaning him, other people were inside and scrubbing. He felt his cheeks warm.

“I was only jealous that they got to go near you.” He couldn’t look at him, he couldn’t look at the cameras that were all trained on him. “That was when I wasn’t allowed - remember? Because you kidnapped me.”

“Kidnap is a strong word. I prefer borrowed for a moment.”

“Thank you for not killing me that day.”

“You’re welcome? I guess?”

“Forgive me - you’re dubbed the blender for a reason.” He popped the lid of his coffee and took a big gulp – it had already started to go cold. It was vaguely lukewarm in a way that made him feel queasy, but he needed the caffeine.

“Black?”

“Americano, yeah.”

“I thought you’d have the sugary shit.”

“I saw what some of the other pilots were putting into their coffee and it scared me off of it, honestly.” He shuddered. “Did you know you can fit thirty three creamer pots into a pilots standard issue water bottle? I didn’t until I saw someone do it.”

“… That’s disgusting. Coffee flavoured cream at that point – just drink it from the carton. Doesn’t the shop here sell flavoured milk?”

“They had flavour syrup in there too.”

“Which one?”

“All of them.”

“Fucking hell.”

Swindle had this godawful idea of pilot interviews. The media were interested, and once the investors had caught wind of that their ears had perked up. Swindle saw coins falling from the sky, and had promptly agreed and cleared his diary. Making them seem more human brought in much more attention, and with attention came money and government contracts and more boots on the ground. It also brought in his favourite thing in the world; unpaid interns. The prestige would be enough of an incentive.

And so First Aid found himself with a docket shoved into his grease-stained hands as he worked on clearing out random debris from Vortex’s right knee – the mechanics were still afraid of him, and First Aid had an idea of what it was supposed to look like in there from when he’d been tasked with extracting a pilots thoracic vertebrae (T4 through to T6 only – he wasn’t sure how they’d even gotten there and he had never asked. The rest of her spine had gone missing), he was doing their job for them. Vortex was doing a stellar job of subtly shifting his plating out of the way to give First Aid better access – it was enough debris that it was pissing him off too.

“What’s this?” First Aid asked, putting it down on the table next to him before reaching back into the joint. He could see something in there, hard and transparent and vaguely blue. It was quintesson hard tissue – he’d have to call the hazard team in. What a pain. He gestured for his visitor to take a step back before reaching in and trying to get a good grip on it so he could tug it free.

No dice. He sighed, knowing he’d need to give Vortex some clear instructions on what he needed but not able to do it with an audience - he had left a walkie talkie up in the cockpit for him, but he knew damn well that it would cause a scene if he started nattering away into it.

So they got his attention instead. They were waiting with impatience thinly veiled with a smile and too-wide eyes. Someone from human resources, maybe? Media? Public relations? He didn’t know. They wouldn’t be hanging around long enough for it to really matter.

“It’s some papers for you to sign. For the interviews. So, you’re not on the interview list, but we did want to get some footage of you with your mech. Is that alright?”

First Aid looked up at Vortex as if expecting him to say something. He blinked at him before he realised he wouldn’t be saying a single whisper, and quickly looked back at them.

“I’m not getting interviewed?”

“Instructions from the big brass!”

“Right.” He wiped his hands down on a dirty rag and shoved it into his belt. “Sure. Fine, I guess. I’m just going to be digging around in his joints – he’s got some quintesson guts in there, so I’ll need hazard around. Is this going on TV? It will give a good show at least, right?”

Their eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s perfect.”

The cameras were obnoxious. The people behind them were worse.

Could you do that again? Can we get this person to do it? Turn your face this way, have your hair like that, take your jacket off, can you try it with your jacket on again but your feet like this?

Real fucking irritating. First Aid wanted them to just get lost. The hard tissue was still in there. Vortex was starting to get annoyed, and nobody wanted to find out how far he was willing to go for some peace and quiet. He’d called the hazard team well before the camera crew had arrived – and they still weren’t there. He could hear the creak in Vortex’s joints, the faint rumbling and vibrations of his systems gearing up, the tremors of plating desperate to move.

Solace came with Swindle, the cavalry marching in behind him. The hazard team. Finally. First Aid quickly scuttled up into the cockpit with a walkie-talkie in hand to play pretend at moving the mech so they could extract the hazardous tissue, covering his eyes to block out the obnoxiously bright flash of their cameras, and wondered if they’d keep his footage in. His parents would worry.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had a twink writhing.

If he still had a body, he’d be doing awful things to that man. His screams would be perfect, so loud and like music to his ears. And he knew that First Aid would have been thanking him, begging him for more through his tears the whole time. It was such a shame that the human body was so fragile. All he wanted was to be able to take him apart and put him back together after he was done so he could do it again. Over and over, until he was nothing more than a husk of a man.

And he would still be thanking him.

If god were real, he must have been smiling down at him for such a gift. If he were capable of love, he thinks that what it might be.

The tragedy was that he was being punished by finding First Aid too late. They should have been two ships passing at sea - Vortex knew that if anyone gained a single inkling of what First Aid was into when they should have, they’d have thrust him into the system to get lost and fade away into obscurity. A footnote on the family tree. That uncle that vanished as a child. Or maybe they’d pretend that he’d never have existed at all. But no, Felix had glided by unassumingly, his good nature and kind face a front, a shield against what was straining against the surface, shining through the cracks and splitting his skin.

Oh, what a joy it was to have him there with him. What fun it had been to watch him, to study him. The moment he’d seen First Aid chew his bottom lip, core temperature rising as he stared at the disembowelled remains of the first pilot he’d been tasked to excavate from him, he knew he had to have him.

He also knew this should have been working him up. He should have been whipped into a frenzy, unable to contain himself - but lacking any appropriate organ to produce any of the hormonal response that pushed him over the edge, Vortex was left feeling vaguely hollow and empty.

It really, really pissed him off.

Why had they kept him alive if they were just going to waste him like this? It was torture. It was the worst thing he could ever think of.

And it was, annoyingly, the perfect punishment. He’d begrudgingly give those researchers that – they’d achieved their goals on that front. Creative ways to stretch out death row, Vortex had called it at the time. If you asked him now, he’d say that they just gave him a bigger body to create a wonderful slaughter with, but the anger at the situation would be simmering beneath the surface. It was fun popping someone like a grape, but he couldn’t hear their breath whistling out from what remained of their thorax any more.

All he could do all day in between waiting for fights and splitting alien life forms in half with his bare hands was nose around at the cameras and browse the internet.

For such a high security base, their internet security was pathetic. A couple days of poking around at it and he’d been in, briefly toying with the idea of taking down the base and watching them scramble around like the ants they were, before instead heading over to YouTube and seeing if there was anything worth catching up on.

The news announcements about him and his teams deaths had been amusing. Very, very amusing.

But today, he settled on the cameras. He had fun games he’d made to entertain himself with, creating false stories and dramas – he’d spent a lot of time whilst he was still alive figuring out peoples brains, what made them tick, how to get them to tell you exactly what you wanted without them noticing they were even doing it, so he considered his fantasies to be gospel – and looking for people.

He’d always hunted down First Aid. The man had just the cutest face, and he wanted to see how many different expressions he could make. The bad ones, the good ones, the really good ones – god above, especially the really good ones – everything. It was a fun game to catalogue them all, to guess what had been said or done to him to make him look like that. Thinking of ways to replicate it. He wanted him to look at him like that. He wanted him to just look at him.

It had only been a few weeks and already First Aid was as obsessed with him as he was. Mutual obsession was always the best. Matching the energy was so much more fun than watching them tremble and cry knowing they’d just make the bad kind of fucking mess.

The man was excitedly asking Vortex if he’d seen that, preening at something he’d done on the field, eyes sparkling and wide. Looking at him, you’d have been forgiven for thinking he was talking about seeing something as marvellous as a pod of whales arching out of the water instead of the pristine harvest of an alien organ that he was actually talking about. If he were a dog, his tail would be wagging hard enough to sprain.

God, he wanted to make him his.

He wouldn’t share. He couldn’t. He’d never been any good at it.

First Aid even came to eat lunch with him. Vortex had called him ‘some kind of loser’ the third time he’d done it, and First Aid had looked like such a kicked puppy he’d never done it again.

He’d thought about it, but he wouldn’t. He’d promised, and his little man had made it clear how highly he valued promises. It wouldn’t do to upset him, he’d grown rather attached.

And having something to do that involved someone else for once wasn’t actually half bad.

Being interred into a mech was a strangely lonely existence. His snippets of social interaction had come in the form of the human sacrifices they’d offered up to him, cocky and overzealous and never recognising that they were sat in his jaws and ready to be consumed. He would never ever admit it, but having First Aid there to actually speak to was… nice. It was a break from the monotony of pushing IT’s buttons and seeing how ruffled he could get the brass to be in just a single sentence.

He hated being forced to stay still. He’d had practice at it, sure - their line of work didn’t come without its fair share of hazards and they were no strangers to bed rest. Fuck, the longest he’d had to entertain himself was when he’d been on the bad end of a grenade - Brawl had tugged him out of the wreckage missing a healthy chunk of his face, blood pulsing down in a fiery heat he didn’t soon forget. His poor handsome looks had been destroyed in an instant - at least the nurses had been nice to him. If it was because they were scared of him or if it was because Swindle was paying them handsomely he didn’t know and he didn’t particularly care - it had the same result. Endless telenovelas in a language he didn’t understand, with a TV he wasn’t able to adjust. He woke up to the opening jingles, and he fell asleep to the ending songs.

He took having to find his own entertainment over that. At least he could set the language.

And today’s entertainment: watching Swindle.

It was weird watching him from cameras. Usually it was the other way around - Swindle would work his way up into their security rooms and then watch the rest of them from the cameras, guiding them around and warning them of any danger. Instead, he was a silent witness, watching his every move. He was on his phone, nattering away into it as he walked with his coffee. A fun game Vortex liked to play was voicing over him - the cameras didn’t come with any audio, so he was left to fill the blanks.

He paused when he saw his mouth clearly form the word ‘Felix’.

Huh. What did Swindle have to say about him? Good things, Vortex hoped. They were more alike than Swindle ever liked to admit - surely he had to see the beauty in First Aid too. But actually - he hoped he didn’t. First Aid was his. He found him, he had done all the hard work. Felix wasn’t someone he was going to share. He’d do what it took to keep him forever.

[eternalsams]

Your Woman ⇴ J.Seresin

pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader

warning/content: 18+ (dear minors, interact and I'll block you), nudity, fluff, smut (dry wet humping, thigh riding?)

summary: when Jake and you decide to shower together, you realize you also have to share the playlist.

word count: 728 (this is so short i'm ashamed)

a/n: English isn't my first language so please take that into consideration. Please don't come at me for the mockery of the country music, I love country music and I love Texas (only because they give us men like Glen Powell and Jensen Ackles)

masterlist

"Right... Cause saving water is the only reason you wanna shower with me?" You chuckle as you grab two fresh towels. "Of course! What other reason would I have?" Jake peaks his head from behind the shower curtain with a sly smirk. You huff and start undressing, not having it in you to deny your boyfriend what you both know you want. As you were about to open the curtain and step into the shower with him, he stops you. "Wait, can you put some music on? My phone's on the bed." You roll your eyes and chuckle before leaving the bathroom to grab his phone.

You see a text from Javy, telling Jake to hurry up if he wanted free beer. You chuckle once more and open Jake's music app. You click on the first playlist suggested and lock the phone before stepping into the shower. Jake's arm immediately wraps around your waist and you let out a gasp as you almost slip on the wet tile. "I gotcha', darlin'." He leans in to you and brush his lips against yours. "My hero..." You mutter and he smiles widely before kissing you.

The hand on your waist slides down to your ass and kneads the flesh, making you giggle against his lips. His other hand snakes at the back of your neck as he parts your lips with his tongue, licking deliciously into your mouth. Jake grabs the back of your thigh and pull you more into him, slotting one of his legs between yours. The friction of his muscular thigh against your core has you whimpering but Jake doesn't do anything more than just swaying his hips with yours. You pull away from him, taking a quick breath after he just kissed the air out of your lungs. That's when you hear it, the music. The sounds of the electric guitar playing country has you rolling your eyes and scoffing. "Don't make fun of my music, sweetheart." Jake purrs, looking down at you. "I'm not making fun. I just don't like it." You defend yourself. The swaying of his hips in rhythm has you quietly whining as his leg rubs perfectly against your pussy. "I feel like you're rather enjoying yourself." He chuckles, dipping his head to place a kiss on your lips. "You're not playing fair." You sigh, trying to suppress the shiver that's threatening to make your body tremble.

"I can't believe how much it turns me on..." Jake's low voice sings along the music, making you chuckle. "There's no hurry, don't you worry..." He keeps singing, swaying his hips in rhythm and pecking kisses along your jaw. "We can take our time." You finish the lyrics and Jake pulls away to look at you with a surprised smile. "You do know the lyrics. Come a little closer..." He accompanies his words by pulling you even closer and dragging your clit over his thigh and having you whining for more. You can feel his hardening cock poking at your hip but you don't care, you cannot think of anything else than the delicious feeling of his skin rubbing on your clit. Your lips latch onto his neck and your teeth nibble at his skin as you start to feel the knot in your tummy tightening.

Never in your life you would have thought you could have an orgasm to country music. But here you are, gasping and squeezing Jake's shoulders as you came on his thigh, listening to him singing along some stupid country ballad. "That's it, let go for me sweetheart." He purrs next to your ear, holding you firmly as he kept swaying his hips to help you ride out your orgasm. You let your head fall on his shoulder and he tenderly kisses the back of your head as you're catching your breath. "Such a good girl." He grabs your face and makes you look at him, giving you a soft smile. "So good for me." You return the smile weakly and reach for his face to kiss him. The song finally ends and when you think you can go back to having a normal shower, another country song starts. "Nope, not doing this again." You say as you step out of the shower to change his playlist. Jake only laughs and try to ignore to throbbing ache between his legs.

taglist:

@hardballoonlove

@blue-aconite

@iliketopgun

@callsign-hummingbird

@roosterforme

@jessicab1991

@atarmychick007

@hangmansgbaby

@callsigns-haze

@mamachasesmayhem

@els-marvelvsp

@djs8891

[etherealising]

one | christmas (baby please come home)

masterlist | next chapter

pairing(s): carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | fem!reader x original male character | the bear x fem!reader

synopsis: you reunite with carmy at the berzatto family christmas, five years after your falling out.

warning(s): angst | fluff | pining | semi-unrequited love | minimally edited

wc: 7.8k

READER HAS A NICKNAME BUT OTHERWISE AMBIGUOUS

A quiet Christmas playlist drifted through the confines of the house as three friends sat gathered around the kitchen table spending much-needed time together catching up while building gingerbread houses, the various glasses of wine shared between the three of them lowering their inhibitions. 

“Baby! You’re not even looking at the camera.” Natalie’s slurred words caused a fit of giggles to spill out of you as you held up your dilapidated gingerbread house whatever artistic skills you possessed washed away with all the wine swishing through your bloodstream. 

You positioned yourself once more smiling at Nat’s phone as you held the slowly crumbling house, Pete instinctively leaned over to join you for the photo only for his reindeer antler headband to poke you in the eye. Both of you fell into a fit of hysterics as Nat giggled behind her phone most likely snapping blurry photos. 

None of you could be sure how you’d gotten to the point of being wine-drunk on Christmas Eve. The celebrations began when Nat and Pete picked you up from the airport earlier that morning, the three of you deciding on a quiet night in with a home-cooked meal, followed by a night of Christmas festivities courtesy of Pete which you could never turn down especially when seeing how excited he always got. You remembered Natalie listing off her worries for tomorrow’s dinner as she poured the three of you wine, that first glass somehow turned into two empty wine bottles in no time as the three of you enjoyed each other’s company. 

“Wait, wait we’ve got to get a picture in our matching pjs!” Pete was by far the most sober of the three of you and that was probably how he won the game of rock, paper, scissors that forced you into wearing the set of Christmas pajamas he bought you that were a replica of the ones he and Nat currently had on.

You shook your head immediately, not wanting any more photo evidence of this night, especially knowing Nat was probably sending these pictures to Mikey who would most definitely never let you live down matching with the married couple. “I think we have more than enough pictures.” The words felt heavy as they rolled around on your tongue and you couldn't help but giggle at how slow you felt like you were speaking.

Nat moved around the table to your side wrapping her arms around your neck as she leaned her chin against your shoulder and her cheek pressed into yours. “Pretty please Baby, we only get to do fun things like this a couple times a year when you visit.” She moved her face away to give what you assumed were supposed to be puppy dog eyes but was really just her concentrating extremely hard. “If you love me you’ll do it.” 

You rolled your eyes pretending to be put out by the married couple, not wanting them to know just how much fun you were actually having. While you were thankful for your success and the career you built up for yourself, that meant that you spent the majority of your time traveling and working, and while it was nice to see the world, sometimes you wished you could take more than a quick beat for visits like these. You hadn’t visited Chicago as much as you would’ve liked since moving to the West Coast, which meant you saw less and less of the family that made you one of their own all those years ago. You watched as Nat and Pete struggled to set up the phone in the living room for the group photo, giggling at how they seemed to feed off of each other as though they shared a single brain cell between the two of them.

Nat waved you over once they got the phone set up, “Oh! We should do like one of those awkward photo shoots.” 

You groaned, shaking your head back and forth while Pete stood next to you aggressively nodding his head in approval, the two of them were so goofy together you’re unsure why you ever thought you’d have an actual choice in how this unprofessional impromptu photo shoot was going to go. While you may’ve been inebriated that didn’t mean you were on board with every decision the two were making, but you also loved them too much to tell them no, and as you watched them excitedly try to figure out what pose to go with you figured you could feed into their inherent goofiness just this once in the spirit of Christmas.

Carmy stood in the kitchen of his childhood home watching as his mom prepared for Christmas dinner the following day, vehemently refusing any help when he offered it up but forcing him to keep her company and recount all of his culinary adventures as she worked.

He watched his mom move around the kitchen in an organized frenzy, talking to herself at points when she listed off what needed to be done next. Carmy could already see the weight of the looming festivities hanging heavy over her head, stressing her out before the day even began. While he understood and appreciated her love for food and cooking probably more than anyone considering she fostered that same love and appreciation within him when it came to the culinary arts, he always wondered why she insisted on cooking family dinner every year if it always ended in a mess.

“Oh fuck me!” The loud expletive forced Carmy from the recesses of his mind as he stared in his mother’s direction. “Carm honey, do me a favor and finish decorating the fireplace, the box of decorations is already out there.” 

Carmy stood there a minute longer trying to compute the fact that his culinary excellence was being disregarded and he was being put on decorating duty, “Carmen. Can you do it or do I have to do every fucking thing myself?” 

“No, uh yeah I got it.” He met his mother’s eyes nodding his head up and down in acquiesce, to let her know he had it under control.

She shooed him out of the kitchen returning to her food prep before he even made to move to the living room. Carmy quickly found the box of decorations exactly where his mom said it would be, the house was abnormally quiet he assumed Mikey was at The Beef but he couldn’t be sure he had no need to be near the sandwich shop at the moment and Sug moved out ages ago so here he was stuck in his childhood home with nothing better to do than decorate the fireplace mantle.

Carmy knew however he decorated the mantle his mom would just come behind him and fix it to her liking, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. Maybe if he got it close enough to how she liked she would have to do less fixing. He was surprised to find how calming decorating the mantle was, but maybe that was only because he didn’t care to impress anyone with his subpar decorating skills.

Reaching into the box Carmy pulled out the stockings each one designated to one of the Berzatto siblings. He easily hung the stockings onto the hooks on the mantle before reaching in for the last one, embroidered with a name he was sure he hadn’t seen in far too long a time. Carmy was foolish to think that because he ruined the friendship between the two of you that his family would disregard your whole existence over his mistakes. 

Carmy remembered how hard he tried for the first couple of months after he’d left to get into contact with you, to try and let you know just how sorry he was and how much he missed your friendship…missed you. If you ever gave him the chance, he was sure he’d spend his whole life apologizing for that moment. 

That night would haunt him forever, and his mind made sure of it, the worst moment of his life was on a constant loop anytime he got a moment of calm and quiet. Which wasn’t often but they happened enough for the hurt and pain on your face from that night to be permanently seared into his mind. And when it wasn’t memories of the way the moonlight illuminated the tears running down your face from that night, it was the overwhelming guilt that weighed on him for ever speaking to you that way.

Carmy’s hand traced across the embroidered thread of your name as though passing over it enough times would permanently thread the letters into his skin. He hesitated, unsure if they still hung the stocking long after you moved, a moment passed before he decided he would hang it if only just to catch a glimpse of something that reminded him of you. Carmy maneuvered the other stockings around in order to make space for yours trying to ignore the warmth that filled his chest at the sight of your name hanging directly next to his. 

He was pulled from his daze as his phone vibrated multiple times in rapid succession, he pulled the device out of his back pocket unsurprised to find Nat blowing up the sibling's group chat, plus Richie courtesy of Mikey. He was ready to shove the phone back in his pocket when a message coming through from Richie caught his eye, his heart sped up a bit as he read it before it disappeared off of his screen. 

Carmy was positive he had never opened the sibling's group chat as fast as he did at that moment. Opening the text chain he frowned at the assortment of pictures above Richie’s message doing his best to figure out what the hell he was looking at. The first few pictures were of Pete and Nat and as much as he loved his sister he wasn’t interested in seeing either of them. His thumb began swiping through the photos rapidly unsure why anyone would take so many photos of the same things over and over again. Carmy found himself stopping on one picture in particular, a picture that was neither Sug nor Pete, but presumably, the person who took the previous pictures of the couple. 

There you were. 

Smiling so wide it almost looked painful, a glow to your skin that made Carmy unsure if it was from the phone camera or if you were actually glowing. The picture was blurry but for the most part, he could make out your features, he would recognize you anywhere even after all the time spent apart he would be able to pick you out of a crowd with no trouble at all. That’s how deeply you were ingrained into his brain even if the last time he saw you was when you were a fresh high school graduate.

He scrolled once more the side of his lips ticking up at the same photo this time just a lot clearer, he absentmindedly saved the photo to his phone before resuming his viewing. Carmy’s eyes were always drawn to you when you were in any of the photos, at some point he began disregarding Sug and Pete entirely, giving you his full attention. He couldn’t help the quiet chuckle as he scrolled through all the shenanigans the three of you got up to saving another individual shot of you in front of the Christmas tree in Christmas-themed pajamas with matching socks and a headband with two candy canes in the shape of a heart. The sight of you smiling directly at the camera made it seem as though you were looking directly at him, a blush rose to Carmy’s cheeks at how pathetic it was for him to get so worked up over a few photos of you. He looked at the last photo a moment longer before realization dawned on him, his eyes quickly shot from his phone screen to the stocking he hung up. 

Carmy scrolled through the recently sent messages he missed after staring at the pictures of you so long gathering enough information to confirm his suspicions. He quickly turned on his heel before heading back into the kitchen.

“Yo ma,” she gave a distracted hum which was enough for him to begin his line of questioning. “Is uh…does Baby still come to family Christmas?” 

The older woman stopped what she was doing turning to face her youngest son with the most egregious ‘are you fucking stupid’ look Carmy received in a while. “Do I bust my ass every year preparing seven fishes that nobody ever fucking appreciates or eats?” 

Carmy was unsure if it was a trick question but as his mom raised her eyebrows awaiting an answer he realized there in fact was a right answer, “Yes?”

She shook her head looking him up and down as if he were a stranger “I don’t know what’s gotten into you Carmen, it’s like you're from a whole different fucking planet. Of course, the girl comes to Christmas, we're the only family she’s got left.” She stopped speaking to pull out the pack of cigarettes she kept on her slipping one between her lips before speaking around it. “And you would fuckin’ know that if you came home once in a while Bear.” 

Carmy nodded his head ignoring the last sentence as he let the information settle in, he would be seeing you face to face for the first time since high school, and the two of you would be in the same for hourse. He took his chance to slip out of the kitchen as his mother turned back to finish her prepping. He needed some time to himself to try not to work himself into a frenzy as he thought about what tomorrow would bring.

The Berzatto family home looked exactly as you left it all those years ago, the only noticeable difference was the Christmas decorations but other than that it was still your bonus home, the home you spent as much if not more time in than your own home. 

The home you grew up in sat just right across the street, a family of three began renting it a year after you left for college and although it was weird to think that another family was living in the home that would always hold a piece of you, you were just happy to rent it out to a loving family. You’d try to find the time and bring them a goodie basket or something, you always sent holiday cards, but now that you were in town you could meet them properly. 

You stood at the trunk of your rental car staring at the array of wrapped presents trying to decide if you should bring them all in now or just wait. Your eyes fell on the matte black sleek box, the last-minute gift cost more than it would’ve if you bought it ahead of time, you bit your lip the longer you stared at it only now feeling uncertain about the unwarranted gift.

“You sure you’re up for this?” The voice came from your side, Hayden leaned against the car as he watched you stare at the box as though it personally wronged you.

A small sigh escaped you as you turned to face him, arms crossing over your chest “Not really, no but I come home every Christmas and I can’t stop just because he happens to be in town.” Hayden looked at you like he knew you were lying but decided against mentioning it. “Thanks for coming with me by the way, I know it was last minute…how you holding up?”

Hayden shrugged before looking straight ahead, “Well my best friend has been sleeping with my wife for the better part of a year, and said wife served me divorce papers two days before Christmas so.” His voice trailed off as he gave you a sarcastic smile. “But I would say you’re having a worse day than me so it makes me feel a bit better.”

You frowned, not entirely understanding what he was getting at, causing him to roll his eyes, “Oh c’mon Baby, the kid you’ve been in love with our whole lives is home for Christmas, the two of you never even dated mind you. He broke your heart years ago and for some reason, you’re still in love with the idiot but won’t pick up the phone to tell him, and all of your relationships have failed because you’re too stuck living in the past.”

“I should’ve left your ass at home wallowing in self-pity.” 

Hayden’s lips pulled into a sardonic smile as he tipped his head to you. “Well now we can wallow in self-pity together, you can stay out here in the cold looking at that stupid box, but I’ll be in that warm house drinking all of Miss Berzatto’s good liquor.” 

The front door opening drew both of your attention, your heads swiveled to watch Mikey exit the house and begin making his way to you, a frown lined his face as his eyes landed on Hayden by your side confused at the extra guest you brought with you.

“Why the fuck are the two of you standing out here in the cold.” Mikey’s gruff voice felt like a balm for the doubt that was beginning to eat away at you from Hayden’s unwelcome reality check.

Hayden moved quicker than you anticipated, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. “Oh you know just reminding our girl here that love sucks and it's all a fucking illusion because no matter how much you love someone they’ll always end up fucking your pseudo brother.” 

Mikey’s confusion was evident as his eyebrows pinched together even more, his eyes darted between the two of you mouth opening to speak only to quickly close as you shook your head back and forth as subtly as possible.

“Hey, is your mom drinking yet?” Hayden’s question earned a hesitant nod from Mikey who was unsure if providing her a drinking partner was the best thing to do. “Great…great, well merry fucking Christmas!” Hayden pressed a gentle kiss into your temple before moving to head into the house, clapping Mikey on the shoulder as he went by. 

Mikey moved to stand next to you, the both of you watching the train wreck of a man head into the Berzatto household. “What the fuck is up with that kid?” Mikey turned to look at you trying to figure out exactly what kind of mess you brought to family Christmas.

“Sasha’s leaving him.” You watched as understanding washed over Mikey’s face a small nod following as he put two and two together at Hayden’s weirder-than-usual behavior. Mikey opened his mouth to give you shit about bringing the insufferable kid with you only stopping as you spoke over him. “He’s good people, Mikey, I just didn’t want him alone on Christmas.”

Mikey didn’t have an argument for that. As irritating as Hayden could be he found himself indifferent towards the kid you called friend. Mikey was loathed to admit it and he would deny it if anyone ever asked him, but he had a secret appreciation for the kid, Hayden was there for you during a tough time in your life, he was there for you when you needed a friend or someone in your corner who wasn’t directly connected to the youngest Berzatto and for that, Mikey respected the kid, but it's not like he’d ever tell you or him that. 

“Let me look at you,” Mikey’s voice broke through the quiet that had settled over the two of you, your eyes flashed to his face taking in the facial hair he'd decided to grow out. “All fucking grown up ain’t you. Can we still call you Baby or you too grown for that shit now?” 

You rolled your eyes at the joke Mikey made every time you came home before turning and grabbing your bag from where you sat it in the trunk, leaving the gifts behind and moving to walk towards the house with Mikey, “As much as I regret the nickname I’m not sure if I could get used to hearing you all call me by my first name again.” 

Mikey chuckled at your words, hand moving out to grab your elbow and stop you from continuing ahead. “Relax out here with me for a bit yeah?”

A frown lined your face as Mikey stopped in front of you, you could tell he had ulterior motives for stopping you, his hand moving to take the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket before lifting it to his mouth and lighting it. 

“You uh, you know your little boyfriends in that house right?” 

Your nose scrunched up at Mikey’s words, you could hear the teasing tone in his voice as he spoke but that didn’t mean his words didn’t make your chest ache. Of course, you knew he was here, but not until a week after you booked your flight and Nat gave you some bullshit excuse about how she just didn’t know he was coming home for Christmas. You were upset with her and rightfully so but Pete somehow still talked you into coming and so here you were pretending like seeing Carmy after so long didn’t matter, pretending like you hadn’t teared up on the drive over with your face turned to the window as Hayden drove, quietly reliving every vile word Carmy spewed at you that night in your head. Pretending as though you didn’t carry his words along with the hurt they caused within you for years like they didn’t change the way you viewed yourself and took up space in other people’s lives, maybe Hayden’s observation about you carrying the past around was more factual than you once thought. 

And it didn’t matter that he tried getting back in contact with you his first year in California or that he sent flowers and a card when your mom passed saying he’d come home if you needed him to. None of it mattered because it would never make up for the underlying truth in his cold, cruel words from all those years ago.  

Mikey’s eyes darted around your face watching the small changes in your expression knowing you were thinking about the past, his cigarette halfway gone as he lost you to the inner workings of your mind. He took another puff before letting it fall from his fingertips and stomping it out, the tears lining your eyes forced him to move faster as he tucked you into his chest listening to you struggle to breathe as you fought to keep the sobs from wracking through your body.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. You can leave right now if you need to and no one has to know you were here.” His hand raised to stroke your head as he gently rocked the two of you back and forth. “Hayden will understand.” 

You pressed your forehead into his chest as you willed yourself to calm down not wanting to make it obvious you’d been crying once the two of you made your way inside although it was probably already too late for that. 

“Why does it still hurt Mikey?”

A deep sigh raised the older man's chest at your words, his hands fell to your biceps gently pulling you away from him. The look Mikey gave you said it all, a look that forced you to face a truth you’d been running from for the past five years. Creating a new life and pretending as though whatever misguided feelings you held towards Carmy were just that of a childhood crush. 

It still hurt because you never stopped loving him.

You were thankful Mikey didn’t speak the words aloud unlike Hayden, you’d already been lectured by him countless times on this subject, Richie even jumped in from time to time to express his discontent. No one could understand why you held onto your feelings for Carmy so strongly knowing firsthand how much pain and anguish they caused you. You were scolded plenty of times about holding onto all that hurt, being told to either let it all go or talk to Carmy. You couldn’t bring yourself to do either of those things. 

But you couldn’t keep living in your head and feeding into the fairytale of you and Carmy forever. You had to move on with your life at some point, and even though Hayden was correct that one moment from your past kept ruining your future, at this point, you were doing it to yourself. Although it was painful and it took some time, the broken record of Carmy’s words from that night five years ago made it just a bit easier. 

“Baby,” Mikey paused on his words trying to find the right thing to say he felt torn every time this topic came up. You were a little sister to him, he viewed you in the same way he viewed Nat. He wanted the best for you, but this wasn’t it and the both of you knew it. 

“Why are you doing this to yourself? I’m not saying you should forgive Carm m’ just sayin’ holdin’ on to all this hurt isn’t doing you any good.” He watched as you looked away from him, the realization clear on your face, Mikey could read you so well he knew you were tired of carrying the grief of that dead friendship around with you. His hands reached out to cup your face the rough pads of his thumb tenderly caressing your squished cheeks. “You’re finally in the same place after all this time, figure this shit out for both of your sakes.” 

An exhausted sigh escaped your lips as you fought the urge to come up with some lame excuse as to why now wasn’t the right time, but there’d never be a right time for the two of you. 

You wrapped your arms around Mikey’s waist once more needing the warm strong bear hugs he always provided to help calm yourself down enough to be prepared to face everyone, but also to signal you were done with this conversation entirely. You pulled out of Mikey’s grip as he gave you a look seemingly asking if you were okay, you nodded in answer, relaxing into him as he pressed a gentle kiss onto the skin of your forehead.

“Alright, let's get you inside before mom comes out here and cusses me out for keeping you in the cold.” Mikey’s hands rubbed up and down your arms to provide you with the much-needed body heat.

A genuine laugh left your lips knowing Mikey’s words were closer to the truth than one might think. Mikey moved to turn around and begin walking to the door but was forced to stop as you reached out to grab his hand. “I uh, I got you something.” 

His eyebrows raised in question, “Awe you didn’t have to get me nothin’.” You rolled your eyes rummaging through your bag for the two presents and holding them out to him once you found them, chuckling as you watched him place his hands over his heart mockingly. You knew Mikey didn’t do well when it came to sentimental moments and the best you would get out of him was a joke as opposed to anything else. 

You smiled holding the heavier of the gifts out to him first, “I wanted to Mikey, don’t think of this as a gift, think of it uhh…as a show of appreciation yeah?” You nodded, feeling your face warm as you let your eyes dart around so you didn’t have to watch his reaction.

Mikey smiled, finding your shyness endearing before tearing into the neatly wrapped paper and revealing a frame, his hands engulfed it from end to end. He smiled at it before you saw confusion etch across his face, “This is great Baby, yeah but uh what the fuck am I looking at?”

You shoved his shoulder before laughing at him and grabbing the frame out of his hands holding it in front of your chest, the glass facing him so he could still see its contents, “It's a trademark certification you dumbass, can’t you fucking read Mikey.” You joked to try and underestimate how big of a gift this was.

Mikey’s brows furrowed before he snatched the frame out of your hands to get a better look at the certificate sitting behind the glass, eyes snapping back up to your face with a look you couldn’t read. You shuffled your feet feeling like you overstepped a boundary you didn’t even know was between you and Mikey, “Don’t worry though I-I, put it in your name, I didn’t trademark it for myself or anything. I just remember how much you all used to talk about this, and I'm not sure if it's something you still want but I…I just wanted you to know I still believe in you. And I…I know how tough shit is lately and I promise I didn’t mean to step on your toes but…Mikey, you deserve good things too okay?” 

You could hear your long-winded explanation become more emotional by the minute but you needed Mikey to know how loved and appreciated he was. He was a big brother to you, always by your side whenever you needed him, he saw you through all the bullshit with Carmy and helped you to get through your mom's death. And when you were hellbent on throwing whatever little future you didn’t think you had left away he was right there with you pushing you to see just how much you deserved to get out of this godforsaken city and make something of yourself. 

“You deserve so much in this world Mikey, and I wish I could give it to you. But you need to know how much I believe in you and how much I love you, I’m always in your corner,” you paused trying to choke back another round of tears. “And Mikey I…I don’t think I would be here right now if it wasn’t for y-.” 

Before you could get another word out you were once again trapped in his comforting embrace, the both of you taking every bit of love and comfort the other offered in that moment. Mikey’s head tucked into your neck as you felt his uneasy breathing through your hands clutched around him. He wasn’t the type to get emotional in front of other people, and feeling a tear of his smear against your cheek as he raised his head from your neck and settled his bearded cheek against yours, you weren’t sure if you had done the right thing by giving him the gift or not.

The two of you stood in silence as you allowed Mikey to have this moment, not wanting to make him feel insecure about you being present while his emotions ran high. When he finally pulled away you could see the leftover sheen in his eyes. He tucked the framed certificate under his arm as both his hands reached up to grab your face, his eyes found yours, 

“Thank you, Baby,” the words were spoken so quietly you were surprised you caught onto them a small imperceptible nod of your head directed at him as you gave him a tearful smile. Mikey placed a kiss on your forehead before he grabbed the frame again and wrapped you in another hug. 

You decided it best to leave the biography you finally wrote, printed, and compiled about him after all these years in his room, wanting him to be able to experience it in private so he could indulge in whatever feelings it brought forth. 

Mikey’s head sat atop yours as your face rested against his chest, ear listening to the rhythm of his beating heart. The hug you shared with Mikey in that moment felt heavier than any other time you had the pleasure of being held in his arms. You’d be remiss not to notice but chose instead not to bring it up to him and enjoy the moment for what it was.

A moment of peace.

30 minutes passed since Michael escaped the house to do whatever the fuck it was he was doing outside. Carmy didn’t know and in all honesty, he didn’t actually give a shit either, too busy helping their mom out in the kitchen to try to give any thoughts to whatever grabbed Mikey’s attention. 

He was focused in the corner of the kitchen making Tiff Sprite to help alleviate her nausea symptoms. Anyone else would have done their best to block out the rambunctious noises going on throughout the house, but not Carmy though, the chaos fueled him, it grounded him. If the house was quiet it would have been too much for him, to be alone with his own thoughts ping-ponging around in his head, waiting for a chance to drown him. So if he had to listen to his mom list off a plethora of things he needed to make sure happened for Christmas dinner to go off without a hitch while he was making Sprite from scratch, he welcomed it. 

He finished his concoction just in time for Richie to walk through the kitchen, the older man trying to figure out how the fuck it was even possible to make Sprite from scratch. Gratefully taking the glass Carmy offered to him marveling at the carbonated drink in his hand.

Carmy nodded in his direction, “Yo Cousin, where the fuck is Mikey. He just fucking disappeared.” Carmy’s head swiveled around the kitchen checking whether his brother was there or not, coming up empty in his search. Richie glanced up before settling his eyes back on the drink in his hand still doing the mental math to wrap his head around what the fuck Carmy just made.

Richie jutted his head in the direction of the front door, “Outside talking to Baby.” His eyes finally focused on Carmy’s in time to see the color drain from his face at the older man’s words, the younger of the two looking as nauseous as the pregnant woman upstairs. Although he knew you were in town he’d gotten so sucked into the chaotic energy of everything that his mind hadn’t given him any time to overthink seeing you all these years later and if he knew Mikey was outside with you he would’ve made sure he was nowhere in the vicinity of your entrance, not because he didn’t want to see you or be around you but because after all these years he still had no idea how to admit every feeling he kept bottled up and tucked away from you. 

“Did you not know she was coming? Your moms invites her to every holiday, Cousin, and she comes every time.” Richie knew the last bit wasn’t necessary but felt Carmy rightfully deserved it, all anyone wanted from the youngest Berzatto was a visit.

“Dudes been out there for fucking ever though, those two idiots probably just standing outside like a bunch of fucking jagoffs.” Richie left the kitchen not waiting for Carmy to follow him before heading to the front door. He stopped moving the curtain on one of the side windows to spot two of the people he considered family and a surprise plus one. He let out a low whistle nudging Carmy’s shoulder who finally joined his side nodding his head to the window. 

“Awe and she brought her little boyfriend with her.” Richie’s words bounced through Carmy’s head like a game of pinball. You were seeing somebody? Carmy unceremoniously shoved Richie out of the way to get a glimpse of his own out the window, the older man did his best to hold in his laughter. 

Carmy looked out the window just in time to see you snuggly pressed into another man’s side, his brain working overtime to figure out who it was before he watched the man lean in and press a soft kiss into the side of your head causing Carmy’s stomach to sink. 

“When did they start dating?” Before Carmy could stop himself the question was out in the open, his voice sounded less curious and more annoyed than it should have. 

Richie knew what he was about to do next would probably get him into a load of shit but he couldn’t help but want to fuck with Carmy, would you beat his ass for it later, probably but that wasn’t gonna stop him from having his fun. 

“Ohh shit, nobody told you, Cousin?” Richie did his best to sound sad as he spoke, fighting to keep his face neutral as Carmy turned to look at him. “Listen, I don't think it's my place to tell you.” Richie raised his free hand and the cup up in defense.

Carmy could feel his heart speed up the longer he looked at Richie, “Told me what?” An apologetic look washed over Richie’s face twisting the feeling of despair deeper into Carmy’s chest. “Told me fucking what Richie?” He did his best not to scream in the man’s face but the longer Richie stayed silent the more Carmy was sure he was going to have a breakdown. 

“Carm…she’s,” Richie paused suddenly realizing that maybe this joke wasn’t as funny as he first thought it once was but he was in too deep now. “Baby’s married.” 

The tightness in Carmy’s chest intensified tenfold as his eyes traced Richie’s face for any inkling that he was lying. He could feel his palms becoming clammy as he tried to comprehend the truth bomb Richie just dropped on him. When did you get married? Why didn’t he know? 

Even if he didn’t want to admit it, he already knew the answer to that last question. You didn’t want him to know, the two of you weren’t those same kids from five years ago. There was no more sharing everything that happened in your lives with one another and Carmy only had himself to thank for that. 

“Don't fսck with me right now Richie.” Carmy was doing his best to hold onto whatever was left of his resolve not knowing if he could realistically spend his first Christmas home in years watching you be happy with some other man. 

Before the older man could admit to his fallacy the door swung open, the man in question walking through the door. 

“Yo, Richie how you been man? Tiff trynna kill you yet?” His voice drifted through the foyer as he shrugged out of his jacket while Carmy forced himself to turn around making eye contact with the man only receiving an indifferent look in return. “Carmen, good to see you home dude.” 

It took Carmy a moment to realize he knew the man standing in front of him, Hayden Ivanovski was always more your friend than he was Carmy’s but the two of them got along decently enough for your sake. Carmy’s eyes flitted down to the hand stretched out in his direction, quickly latching onto the gold band wrapped around his ring finger, the truth of the situation settled heavily inside of him as he shook Hayden’s hand.

“Yeah uh, good to be back.” Carmy restrained himself from physically massaging out the ache in his chest as he stood in front of the man who succeeded where he couldn’t. He let Hayden’s hand go, tuning out the conversation between Richie and Hayden as he lost himself to the overwhelming thoughts swimming through his head moving to stand just outside of the kitchen as he leaned against the wall. There was no doubt about it, you were married, and those hateful words Carmy spewed at you in the backyard of his family home five years ago probably only helped to push you into Hayden’s embrace. 

Carmy heard you before he saw you. He’d been so lost in his self-deprecating thoughts that he hadn’t heard the door open again. 

All of these years, all the skipped holidays, and Carmy was missing out on you. The sight of you standing in his family home helped to calm his racing heart but then he watched as Hayden pulled you into his side, the two of you looking like a picture of love as the man leaned in placing one more kiss to your temple, conveniently staring Carmy down from across the foyer. 

Carmy dropped his gaze from Hayden before focusing on you once more, the tension seemed to just bleed right out of him as he watched you glow in happiness even if caused by someone else. He was so caught up in his staring that he hadn’t realized the way Mikey glanced at him, eyebrows raised like he was waiting for Carmy to make a move he hadn’t prepared for and didn’t even know he could still make. 

He’d be lying if he said the years apart made him forget what you looked like. You were still the same girl he left in Chicago all those years ago except the wand of maturity worked its magic on you, and in his opinion he thought you looked more beautiful than you had in high school. 

Carmy was never one to pay too much attention to a woman’s features, and not because he didn’t care, it's just that he didn’t think it mattered, he wasn’t drawn to you because of your appearance it was just you as a person that always kept his attention. The comfort you brought him, the way he used to feel safe just being in your presence, the softness you taught him it was okay to bask in, and the way you allowed him to be vulnerable and unapologetically himself were what really kept him hooked. But as he drank in your form he learned in that exact moment why a woman might want people to notice the small things, and he made sure to do so as he stared at you from his vantage point staring around Mikey’s body. Carmy was sure he could look at you all day and deep down inside, he knew he would spend most of Christmas doing just that now that a future with you wasn’t attainable. 

He was pulled from his study of you as your voice rang through his ears, the way his name sounded coming out of your mouth warmed his body. 

“Merry Christmas Carmy,” he could tell your smile was forced, but even the fact that he was worthy of your attention at this moment was enough for him. “It’s nice to see you home.” 

Carmy tried not to read into your words knowing you were just being friendly but the way Mikey cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows at his younger brother, he knew he needed to say something. 

The moment was lost though as another voice interrupted the silence that fell over the group in the foyer. 

“Baby, is that you? My goodness, you look fucking gorgeous and you brought Hayden!” Half of Donna’s body popped out of the kitchen finally gaining a spare moment to greet the newcomers. Her words mumbled through the cigarette between her lips, while she held a ladle in her right hand and the left was occupied by tongs. Her apron was covered in all sorts of sauces and whatever the hell else she was in the kitchen making.

Carmy watched as you laughed half in amusement, you and Hayden both waved in his mother’s direction. Hayden gestured for you to walk in front of him as you both made your way to the kitchen. Donna waved the tongs in Carmy’s direction, “Jesus fucking Christ Carmen, take the girl's bag and coat. Don’t just fuckin stand there.” She huffed eyes glaring the longer Carmen stayed glued to the spot. “C’mon Hayden, I need someone to drink and gossip with.”

The man wasted no time tossing his jacket atop the rest of the pile before maneuvering around Carmy and you. Richie and Mikey had dispersed at some point leaving the foyer empty aside from the two old friends. Carmy gestured for your tote, taking it out of your hand before awkwardly helping you to slip off your jacket doing his best not to touch you unnecessarily. 

Carmy tried to match the small smile you gave him as you made to move around him but was sure he just looked miserable. He was surprised as you gripped his bicep before walking past him, “I uh, I actually bought you a Christmas present. So um, find me later yeah?” He watched as you genuinely smiled at him for the first time in years, unsure if the rhythm his heart was beating in was healthy or not.

A concerned look washed over your face at Carmy’s silence forcing the man to hesitantly nod his head surprised you would’ve gotten him anything after all this time. He opened his mouth to speak but settled against doing so, sure he would make a fool of himself, instead giving you a small shy smile in return. Carmy watched you a moment longer, your own mouth opening and closing like his once had before you settled on a simple nod and dropped your hand back to your side, before walking into the kitchen.

Whatever little hope that interaction had given Carmy was dashed as soon as he heard Hayden’s voice call out to you. You were happy and that’s all he ever wanted, Carmy knew he should’ve been happy for you, but he couldn’t bring himself to come to terms with the fact that all of this could’ve been avoided if he had just been honest with you five years ago.

Maybe then he wouldn’t have to watch as another man brought forth the happiness that once used to be reserved for him. 

a/n: well, well, well what do we have here? gonna be honest idk how the bear fandom is doing so this series rewrite may not get as much love as the original, but that doesn't bother me as much as it used to.

some quick housekeeping as we begin this journey once more; ya girl is working full time so updates will be sporadic, genuinely have no upload schedule so please if you read this rewrite be gracious and understand i have a real life outside of fic writing. other than that please enjoy like/comment/reblog it means a lot.

i've missed you all so much please fangirl with me over these two once more! 🫶🏼🤍

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - the price of desire (part eight)

warnings ; there’s a lil heavy makeout in the beginning but that’s it!

prompt ; in which you learn that your dignity has a price, and unfortunately, it looks a lot like Jeon Jungkook in Calvin Klein boxers.

note ; writing this part was like holding a lit match too close to my own chest. yeah. this isn’t just them screaming at each other, this is legit every character trait we’ve been slow-burning from chapter one crashing together like live wires. she shuts down before people can get too close. he pokes at her sore spots because he doesn’t know how to say “i care” without making it sound like a challenge. they are both so bad at being vulnerable and somehow even worse at pretending they don’t feel anything. and yet they keep coming back to each other like it’s instinct. like it’s home AHAJSSJD

this part was so fun and so devastating to write. we’re deep in this shit now, but we’re getting close to the end and i’m not okay about it!! i love these disaster babies with my whole entire heart. they’re messy and sharp and human and so damn soft in the moments they don’t mean to be. i just want to wrap them in a blanket and force them to have one honest conversation (but also i’m here for the angst. always).

also, required listening for this part: “the archer” by tswift. y’all hate to see me coming.

and if you’re wondering how it ends… let’s just say whatever version of an ending they get is earned. something they’ll have to choose, again and again, even when it’s hard. see you in part 9 lovers!!!!

playlist here

series masterlist here

You’re not entirely sure how you ended up here.

One minute you're wrapping up some corporate bullshit call in the Seoul office — all "projections" and "placements" and other words that make your degree worth something — and the next, you're pressed against the conference room door with Jungkook's mouth on yours like oxygen's going out of style.

The blinds are drawn. Lights off. Real classy setup you've got going. All you can hear is your own breathing, embarrassingly fast, and the whisper of his fingers playing with your blouse buttons like they're piano keys.

"You know," he mumbles against your jaw, voice low enough to make your stomach do that stupid fluttery thing, "you really shouldn't look at me like that during meetings."

You scoff, but it turns into something more pathetic when his lips find that spot on your neck. "I didn't look at you."

He makes this little amused sound that you can feel against your skin. "You did. Around the thirty-minute mark. Right after you tore the executive director a new one."

"I correct a lot of people," you say, trying to sound dismissive.

"Yeah, but you only bite your lip like that when you're trying not to smile at something I said."

You attempt an eye roll, but it's half-hearted at best because your hands are already grabbing fistfuls of his expensive shirt. You yank him closer and he doesn’t resist.

His thigh slides between yours as he pushes you harder against the door, his mouth still doing this maddening exploration of your throat like he's charting territory.

And fuck, this feels different.

It's not just the location. Not the risk of someone walking in, not the whole forbidden office hookup thing.

It's him. The way he's touching you isn't like the usual frantic, clothes-ripping urgency. It's deliberate, patient. Like he's already cataloged every spot that makes you gasp and he's just double-checking his research.

Yeah, his research is solid.

You press your palm against his chest. It's warm. Familiar. Infuriatingly pleasurable.

"This is a terrible idea," you whisper, even though your body is making absolutely zero effort to back up your words.

"You've been saying that every time," he murmurs back, his breath hot against your collarbone. "Still doesn't stop you."

You hate how right he is. But even more than that, you hate how you don't actually want to stop.

Your fingers drift up to his jaw, and for a second, one stupid second, you don't kiss him. You just look at him. Really look.

The soft flush spreading across his cheeks. That small, knowing curve at the corner of his mouth. The way his lashes flutter when he realizes you're staring.

You could say something cutting right now. Something to grab back whatever shred of control you're pretending to have. But you don't.

Because this isn't about control anymore, is it? This isn't about who's winning whatever fucked-up game you've been playing.

You kiss him again instead. Less like the mistake you keep telling yourself it is, more like the choice you're actually making.

And Jungkook makes this sound against your mouth, quiet, raw, like you just punched all the air from his lungs and then his hands are back on your hips, pulling you closer, anchoring you to him like he thinks you might bolt if he loosens his grip.

He pulls back just enough to murmur, "You're different lately."

You raise an eyebrow, trying to look more composed than you feel. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs. Smiles that infuriating soft smile that makes something in your chest tighten. "I don't know. I think you like me."

You kiss him again instead of answering, if only to shut him up. To avoid that look in his eyes, the one that says he's starting to read you like a fucking book. You're terrified of just how many pages he might turn if you let him.

You don't know who moves first, whether it's your hand grabbing his collar like it's a lifeline or his arm snaking tighter around your waist, but suddenly you're moving, stumbling together across the room like drunks.

The kiss changes. It's not gentle anymore. His mouth takes, then gives, then takes again, hungry and demanding like he's been thinking about this all day, like he's been sitting through meetings just waiting for the chance to press you against something solid and make you forget your own name.

Your back collides with the edge of the desk. Papers go flying, a pen clatters to the floor.

Jungkook lifts you like you weigh nothing, hands sliding under your thighs to hoist you up until you're perched on the cool surface, legs automatically spreading to make room for him. He leans in, chasing your mouth again, lips hot and insistent. His hands are everywhere at once, gripping your waist, sliding up, fingers slipping beneath the edge of your blouse until he finds exactly what he's looking for.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

You gasp when his hand finds your chest through the flimsy barrier of your bra, your breath catching somewhere between your lungs and your mouth. The sound drags a groan from him, unfiltered against your lips.

"Fuck," he mutters, pulling back just enough to look at you, heavy-lidded and breathless, chest rising and falling like he's run you ragged. "This desk's about to be my favorite piece of furniture."

You glare at him, but it lands about as effectively as a water balloon on concrete. "Don't be dramatic."

He smirks, hands still wandering beneath your blouse like they own the place. "I'm serious. Right here.. this desk. In this boring-ass office where everyone thinks you're made of ice."

"You're disgusting."

"And you're wet for me."

You open your mouth to bite back, but he's faster. His hands move with new purpose, dragging you closer to the edge of the desk until your knees bracket his hips, until you can feel every goddamn inch of him pressed against you.

His mouth traces a burning path along your jaw, then down your neck, words hot and damp against your skin.

"I want to fuck you right here," he breathes. "Don't care who hears. Let them hear."

Your nails dig little crescents into his shoulders as he sucks what's definitely going to be a mark into the hollow beneath your collarbone. You're trying (and failing spectacularly) not to show how badly you want exactly what he's offering. It’s bad enough that he even got you in the room, that you let him close the door. That you let your back hit it without protest, knowing full well how dangerous proximity to Jeon Jungkook is, how risky it is to give him even an inch, especially when he never stops at that.

Lately, everything he does has you folding faster than you can recover. A late-night knock and you’re letting him in. A quiet “you forgot to eat again” and suddenly you’re sitting across from him at some hidden booth, sharing food you swore you didn’t want. One hand at your lower back during a team dinner, and your breath’s hitching like he’s got a knife to your spine.

"You're unbelievable," you whisper, but your voice is already cracking at the edges, already betraying you.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

"I know," he mutters, kissing you again, slower this time, like he's savoring something rare. "You love it."

You hate that he's right. You hate it even more when he presses you flat against the desk and looms over you like he's acquired the rights to your body, like he's not even asking permission anymore because he knows exactly how far you'll let him go.

You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be doing this.

The thought keeps circling your brain like some half-dead moth around a light — distant, insistent, ultimately pointless.

Because even as you lie back across the desk, skirt rucked up around your thighs, blouse hanging open, Jungkook standing between your legs with that knowing look darkening his eyes, you're still clinging to the illusion that you're calling the shots.

"I have a meeting," you murmur, the words barely making it past your lips as your hands press against his chest. Not to stop him, just to pretend you might. "In twenty minutes."

He doesn't flinch. Doesn't even blink. Instead, his fingers trail down the inside of your thigh, deliberate and unhurried, knuckles skimming across skin like he's mapping territory he already knows is his. Like the ending's already written.

"Oh?" he says, voice carrying that dangerous calm. "Then I guess we better not waste time."

"Jungkook—"

His fingers slip beneath your skirt in one fluid motion. You jolt, hips jerking on instinct, the air punched straight out of your lungs.

And just like that, your brain shorts out. Your spine curves off the desk, hands gripping the edge like it might save you, but it doesn't. Nothing does.

Your mind is still scrambling to keep up. You were just telling him to stop. You were just reminding him and yourself that you have a meeting. That this is reckless. That your life doesn't have room for moments like this.

But now his mouth is back on your neck, lips brushing that spot below your ear that makes everything else fade.

You're losing your grip.

The most dangerous part isn't his touch. It's the way it makes you forget — your job title, your packed schedule, your ironclad self-control. It's the way he doesn't even have to undress you to completely take you apart.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

"God," you whisper, clinging to whatever scraps of language your brain can still produce, "you're a menace."

He hums against your throat, still touching you like he's got all day. "You keep calling me that. And yet..."

His fingers tease again. Your breath catches, hips lift barely and he smirks. “Seems like you're not exactly rushing to that meeting."

His fingers slide beneath your skirt with that infuriating confidence, brushing over the edge of your lace panties like he's savoring the moment before he unwraps something he knows is already his.

The teasing is unbearable. Calculated. Your thighs twitch under his touch, exhales coming in fragments as your head drops back against the desk. The ceiling blurs into nothing. His mouth is everywhere; your jaw, your throat, dragging slow kisses down your neck. His breath burns against your skin, his lips softer than they have any right to be, and every time he speaks, it cuts straight through you.

"Hmm, you smell like coconut today. New lotion?" he murmurs, thumb tracing circles on your hipbone.

You gasp when he touches you again, and he drinks in the sound like it's the only thing keeping him alive.

Your fingers are tangled in his hair now. Your skirt is bunched around your waist. You're half-dressed, half-ruined, and not even pretending to give a shit about resistance anymore.

And then, just as your head tips back, lips parting on some broken, helpless sound, something shifts behind you.

You don't notice it at first. Neither does he. Too lost in the heat, in the tension, in the way his mouth is traveling lower.

But the faint creak of the door filters in too late, and by the time the sound registers, it's already wide open.

"Oh, fuck, I'm sorry—"

Daniel's voice. Loud. Hint of horrified.

Then there’s just the slam of the door as it shuts again with enough force to rattle the walls.

You freeze. Every muscle locks up like you've been hit with a stun gun. And Jungkook, still between your thighs, freezes with you.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

The silence that follows is deafening. This is exactly what you knew was coming. The second you heard the door click open, the second Daniel’s voice cut through the stillness of the room like a blade, you knew. You knew you’d have to watch your career start to unravel in real time, thread by thread, under the weight of his stare. His few words said more than shouting would have. Said what the fuck are you doing, said I trusted you, said do you even realize how much is at stake? And all you could do was stand there with your blouse half-buttoned and your mouth still swollen, your pulse roaring in your ears as Jungkook looked just as guilty.

This wasn’t just a misstep. This was everything you built burning to dust at your feet. The part that makes your throat burn and your hands shake, is that you saw it coming. You did this anyway. You let him in. You let yourself want, and now here you are, standing in the wreckage of the version of you who never made mistakes like this.

You're still panting, your blouse hanging open, your hair a disaster, your skirt bunched around your waist like cheap curtains. You can feel your heartbeat in your teeth, skin on fire.

Your shame burns hotter than all of it.

You shove him off you hard, like he's something toxic you just realized you've been letting touch you.

"What the hell," you breathe, pushing him back, yanking your skirt down with hands that won't stop shaking. "What the actual hell?"

"Hey—" Jungkook tries, reaching for you. "It's okay. It was just—"

"Don't." Your voice could cut glass, your eyes already stinging with that special cocktail of fury and humiliation. "Don't even breathe in my direction."

You button your blouse with clumsy fingers, hands fumbling like you've forgotten how clothes work as you scramble to reconstruct yourself. Your pulse is a freight train. Your heart's trying to punch through your ribcage. You can't even look at him.

What… the fuck were you doing?

Worse: what the fuck did Daniel just witness?

You barely finish working on your blouse before you're bolting through the door, your heels clicking an angry rhythm down the hallway. The air feels cold against your overheated skin as you move, your skirt still crooked, hair looking like you just survived a hurricane.

You spot Daniel ahead, practically sprinting for the elevators like he’s trying to erase what he saw by sheer distance.

"Daniel," you call, but he doesn't turn. “Daniel!"

He's already jamming the button, the silver doors lighting up in response.

You reach him just before they open, grabbing his arm with enough force to make your point. He freezes, shoulders rigid, eyes fixed forward like he's developed a sudden fascination with the elevator's inspection certificate.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

"It's not what it looks like," you say, voice low and desperate.

It's a lie so transparent it might as well be cellophane.

Daniel glances at you, his expression carved from corporate boardroom marble, that careful blankness they teach in management seminars but never put in the employee handbook. He tilts his head, offers you a smile so professional it could be used in the company's next PR disaster.

"Of course not," he says, tone flatter than week-old soda. "You don't owe me an explanation."

You stare at him, something closing around your throat. "Daniel—"

"I really do have somewhere to be," he cuts in with practiced politeness, eyes darting to the elevator like it's his personal rescue boat. "But... if you need to talk, I'm always happy to make time. CMO to subordinate."

The words hit you like a slap. Daniel’s always been the one person you could count on, even before the title made it official. Years of late nights and early calls and campaign launches that nearly killed you both. Drinks after client meetings. Inside jokes in the back of boardrooms. You’ve known him longer than anyone at the company, trusted him more than anyone in the industry. He’s seen you screw up before, seen you burnt out, but he never made you feel small for it.

That’s what makes this whole debacle even more pathetic. Because when he walked in on you, you didn’t need to see the shock in his face. Right now, you’re seeing recognition. You’re seeing the moment he remembered you’re the Chief Marketing Officer and he’s not, that you hold more power, more risk, more to lose. That shift, that quiet acknowledgment of difference, is what shatters you. If even Daniel looks at you differently now, if even he thinks you’ve compromised who you are for Jungkook, then maybe you really have.

You blink. He steps into the elevator.

Just before the doors slide shut, he gives you one last perfunctory nod. "Hope everything gets sorted. Have a good rest of your afternoon."

Then he's gone. You’re left standing in the hallway, heart hammering, shame screaming in your ears.

You can handle marketing disasters, media shitstorms, celebrity meltdowns. But this? This might be the one PR nightmare you never saw coming.

You don't even remember walking back through the office. You don't register the sideways glances, the way heads dip like prairie dogs sensing a hawk, or the sound of your heels cracking against the floor as if you're trying to break through it.

You're moving on autopilot. Fury and humiliation surging through your veins, threatening to boil over with every step.

Your body is trembling, skirt still twisted on your hips. Blouse looks like it spent the night on the floor, your lipstick smeared. You look like a cautionary tale from an HR seminar.

Your heart is pounding so hard it's starting to echo, a hollow thump thump thump like the countdown to something you can't stop.

When you reach the office, you don't hesitate. You don't pause or so much as think. You push the door open and slam it shut behind you hard enough to make your ears pop.

Jungkook's head snaps up. He's still standing by the desk, half-dressed, shirt buttoned wrong. He looks shell-shocked, caught, mouth open like he was practicing explanations that dried up on his tongue.

With a heaving chest, you stare at him, vision blurred at the edges with rage.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ “What the fuck is wrong with you?" you snap, the words cracking across the room like summer lightning.

His eyebrows inch up, a slow-motion surrender. "What do you mean—"

"I told you I had a meeting." Your voice isn't loud, but it's sharp enough to draw blood. Panic edging every syllable. "I told you.. twenty minutes, Jungkook. You couldn't even give me that?"

He takes a step toward you, hands raised like you're some wild animal he's trying not to spook. "You wanted it too."

"Oh, don't you fucking dare," you hiss, slicing through his bullshit. "Don't spin this like you're not part of the problem."

He blinks, eyes narrowing just enough to tell you he's getting defensive. "Part of the problem? Do you hear yourself right now?"

But you're not listening. Not really.

Your brain is in freefall, spinning too fast to grab onto anything solid, cycling through every possible headline, every office whisper, every version of this getting out. Daniel's face keeps flashing through your mind like some corporate horror show on repeat.

You press your fingers to your temples, trying to breathe, trying to anchor yourself to something but it's like trying to grab smoke.

You've worked your entire fucking life for this. Clawed your way up from nothing. Built yourself into someone untouchable.

Now you're standing in an office, looking like you've been mauled, with your career-making brand campaign hanging by a thread, and Jeon Jungkook watching you like he can't decide whether to comfort you or make a break for the door.

You lower your hands. Look at him. Suddenly, your voice drops to something quieter. “I can't think when I'm around you."

The sentence hangs there, unfiltered, more honest than anything you've said in months.

When his expression softens, even slightly, you want to put your fist through a wall. The last thing you need right now is his understanding. Not from him. Not when you're barely holding yourself together.

His silence only twists the knife deeper.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ The longer he stands there, the more your panic multiplies, pressing into your chest like some invasive growth. You feel it everywhere — your throat, your lungs, your fingertips. The air in the room suddenly feels too thin, like the walls are inching closer with every breath.

Jungkook, still standing by that desk, watching you like you're some natural disaster he didn't prepare for, finally breaks the silence. “What are you even saying right now?" His voice hovers somewhere between confusion and disbelief. "You're acting like I'm the one who—"

"This needs to be over."

You say it too fast. Like yanking out stitches before they're ready. Like maybe if you're the one to say it first, you won't feel it.

He stares at you. Fully deadpans. "What?"

You can't look at him. You focus on the desk, the floor, the fucking ceiling tiles — anything else.

"This was a mistake," you say, voice steadier now, more controlled, though your hands are still betraying you at your sides. "All of it. Every time. I never should've—"

"Stop." His voice slices through the air, sharper than before. He moves now, closing the distance between you, his eyes locked on yours like he's daring you to keep going.

"Don't do that," he says again, quieter but harder. "Don't pretend like none of it meant anything."

"It didn't." The lie flies out before you can catch it.

Damage is instant.

Jungkook's jaw tightens. His brows pull together, not in anger but pure disbelief. “You're really gonna stand there and say that?"

You cross your arms over your chest, nails digging half-moons into your skin. "I'm your brand executive. You are a global ambassador for Calvin Klein. And I just let my junior team member walk in on us in a fucking office hookup. Do you understand how monumentally fucked this is?"

He shakes his head. "So you're embarrassed."

You laugh, a sound like breaking glass. "I'm not just embarrassed, Jungkook. I'm responsible for an entire campaign that launches in less than a week. If anything tanks, if a single rumor gets out, it's not your name on the line, it's mine. My job. My reputation. My entire fucking career."

"And that's my fault?"

"I should never have touched you."

There's a pause. One second. Two. Three. You stop counting.

He blinks slowly, like he's trying to translate what you just said into something that makes sense. His mouth opens, then closes. Jungkook’s eyes drift away for the first time.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

You keep going, voice rising with each word. Not out of cruelty, more so out of some desperate need to save yourself. “I've worked too fucking hard for this. I came from nothing. Do you understand that? Do you get what it means to watch everything you've spent your life building turn to ash?"

"I do," he says sharply. "More than you think."

You ignore him. You're in free fall now.

"This can't keep happening. I can't think when I'm around you, I can't focus, I'm bombing meetings, making shit decisions… this thing, whatever the hell it is, it's destroying me."

He steps closer, eyes drilling into yours, every muscle in his body coiled tight. "So your solution is to pretend it never happened?"

"It has to be," you say, something collapsing in your throat. "It has to be."

He stares at you like you've morphed into someone he doesn't recognize. Maybe you don't recognize yourself either.

Truth is, this isn't about your job or corporate image. It's fear of what he represents. Of how easily he's dismantling the fortress you've spent years building around yourself.

You watch it hit him too.

For a moment, he doesn't speak. There's no teasing in his eyes, no smug curve to his mouth, no flirtation threading through his words. It's just him. Standing in the middle of a room that suddenly feels like a coffin.

"I don't believe you," Jungkook says finally, tone holding on by the thinnest thread. "You can say whatever you want. You can lie to me, fine. But don't fucking lie to yourself."

"I'm not lying—"

"Yes, you are."

His gaze sharpens, just enough to make you flinch. "You want to end this because you're terrified. Because you finally feel something real, and you have no idea what to do with it."

You shake your head, biting down on that burning pressure behind your eyes. "Don't turn this into something it's not."

"It's already something."

"I don't want this to be a thing," you say, voice climbing toward hysteria. "This isn't anything. You were just—" Your breath catches in your throat. "You were just convenient. That's all."

He flinches. Actually fucking flinches, like you backhanded him across the face.

You push through it. If you don't say it now, you'll never say it. And if you don't kill this now, it'll burn you to the ground.

"We are done, Jungkook."

The finality in your voice echoes off the walls.

And for a second, the room is so quiet you can hear everything — the soft mechanical hum of the air vent, the ticking of some distant clock, the sound of your heart trying to punch its way out of your chest.

He doesn't chase after you. He doesn't call your name or grab your arm. He just stands there, frozen in place, watching in silence as the you bolt for the nearest exit, and the door clicks shut between you.

You don't slam it this time. You don't even risk a glance back.

You walk as fast as you can, teetering on a run. Like the ground beneath you might swallow you whole if you slow down. Down the hallway, through the maze of desks and glass partitions and stares, your heels crack against the floor like gunshots. Every face you pass blends into a smear of features, their eyes following you like security cameras. You don't look at anyone.

Your skin feels sunburned, breath ragged. You're coming apart thread by thread, your mask slipping like something you can't hold onto anymore. By the time you reach the elevator, your reflection in the metal doors is a stranger, clothes disheveled, hair a mess, jaw clenched so tight you can feel the pressure in your teeth.

When the doors open, you step inside without hesitation. The descent feels endless.

You blow through the lobby without acknowledging the receptionist's greeting, eyes locked straight ahead, vision tunneled to the only thing that matters: getting the fuck out.

The second the glass doors part and the cold Seoul air slaps your face, your lungs finally expand.

You keep walking until you're down the steps, far enough away that no one from the building can see the way your shoulders finally collapse. You're shaking, and then before you can stop it, you let out a visceral cry.

Not those delicate, camera-ready tears. A full, raw disintegration. Everything you've been choking down for months has clawed its way to the surface, and there's nothing left to do but let it tear you apart.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Your face is buried in your hands and you honestly couldn’t care less who sees.You don’t care if someone from your team walks past. Or if Daniel looks out the window. Or if Jungkook is standing at the top of the building, watching you come undone like a loose thread in the very campaign you built.

Powerhouse of the marketing world? Long gone. You’re not the woman who never flinches, never falters. You’re just some girl from Busan, crying alone on the sidewalk.

No strategy, no plan — just the crushing weight of everything you can’t undo.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The next few days blur into a smear of silence and avoidance tactics. You bury yourself in work, becoming a ghost that haunts your office during daylight and hides in your hotel room after dark. Your calendar fills with back-to-back bullshit — strategy meetings, brand syncs, damage control sessions for other campaigns you’re working — but nothing feels as urgent as your desperate need to feel absolutely nothing.

You don't speak to Jungkook. You don't touch the texts he sends. You ignore Daniel's carefully worded check-in email, though you write and delete four different responses, each one more pathetic than the last.

Instead, you go through the motions. You approve designs, slash through edits with your red pen, bark orders at Seoul and New York and Paris, and pretend like you didn't just torch something that wasn't even supposed to exist.

But no matter how many tasks you pile onto your plate, the weight of it sits on your chest like a concrete block.

You spend your nights alone now. One of them (maybe the third since the fallout, or the fourth, who the hell knows anymore), you drag yourself down to the overpriced bar in your hotel lobby. It's all mood lighting and pretentious minimalism, nearly empty except for a couple of business types avoiding their hotel rooms.

You order a whiskey neat. Then another. And when you catch your reflection in the mirrored shelf behind the bottles, you almost laugh.

Hair yanked back in a clip, blazer still wrinkled from twelve hours of wear, lipstick faded, eyes hollow. You look like a fucking cliché. The kind of woman you used to silently judge. Alone at the bar, drinking at midnight. Looking like heartbreak in a two-thousand-dollar suit.

Christ. You're pathetic.

You drink anyway. At least for those few burning seconds, it drowns out everything else. The ghost of his mouth. The phantom weight of his hands. The way he looked at you like he could see all the way through your entire facade of a composed woman.

You told him it was over and you meant every word. So why does it still feel like he's everywhere?

His voice still echoes in your head. His scent clings to the edges of your memory.

You finish your drink. Order another. You don't want to think about him. You don't want to think about whatever it was you sacrificed or why being right feels so much like drowning.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

At some point, you know you can't hide from him anymore, or even from Daniel.

Daniel has been kind, careful, measured. His texts have devolved from breezy to brief, from sarcasm to silence. His emails read like they've been drafted by a corporate robot, stripped of his usual parentheses and smartass commentary. No exclamation points. No inside jokes. Just bullet points and attachments and those CC threads that feel like public executions.

You know that tone. It's the tone he reserves for clients who've crossed boundaries. For interns who can't hit deadlines. For moments exactly like this one.

Technically, you can’t blame him.

You've spent days either ducking behind your laptop screen or drowning in edits and reshoots, acting like if you just type fast enough, if you just look busy enough, you won't have to deal with the fact that he saw something he was never supposed to witness.

But Daniel's patient. He lets you spiral in your own personal hell until the spiral starts to look permanent.

And that's when he knocks.

It's mid-afternoon when he raps on your office door, then pushes it open without waiting for permission. He's holding a coffee in one hand and a folder in the other, his expression blank.

You look up from your laptop, startled, blinking at him like he's caught you with your hand in the company safe.

"Hey," he says in a neutral register. “Got a minute?"

You nod before your brain can catch up with the movement.

He walks in and closes the door behind him, setting the coffee down in front of you like some kind of peace offering.

The apology floods out of you in a torrent of words you never rehearsed. Your voice is already cracking before you even finish the first pathetic sentence. “I'm so sorry, Daniel. I don't even know where to start. That wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to see that. I—I should've known better, I do know better, I wasn't thinking, and now it's awkward and you're avoiding me and I completely understand if you hate me or if you think I'm some walking HR disaster, and—"

"Whoa, whoa," he says, holding up a hand. "Take a breath before you pass out."

You suck in air, shaky and thin. Your hands are death-gripping the edge of your desk, nails making some kind of indents in your palms.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

“I don’t hate you,” Daniel says, but it lands harder than it should. Not gentle. Not forgiving… just tired.

He drops into the chair across from you like he’s run out of places to pace, like if he keeps standing, he might say something worse. His elbows dig into his knees, hands clasped together, and when he finally looks at you, it’s not anger exactly. It’s disappointment with teeth.

You take a breath. Ask the thing you’ve been trying not to ask since the door clicked shut behind him. “Are you going to report me?”

His eyes flick up. There’s no hesitation. “I was going to.”

It hits sharper than you expect. You try not to let it show.

“I had the whole thing written,” he says. “Typed. Saved. Detailed as hell. Everything from the moment I went into the room to the second I noticed his hands on your chest.”

You look down, too embarrassed to face his eyes, “So what stopped you?”

Daniel pauses before letting out a chortle that feels more bitter than anything, “You’ve kept some secrets for me too.”

Your head lifts slowly.

And you do know exactly what he’s talking about.

Years ago, early days of the company, before either of you had titles worth whispering, he’d hooked up with some intern in the copy room during work. The guy was closeted. Daniel has always been out. You had walked in. The story nearly made it out to HR, but you’d buried it. You’d “accidentally” deleted the hallway security footage. You’d vouched for him with your old boss, the man who looked down on you two every time you so much as farted. You never asked for anything in return.

He never forgot it.

“I didn’t forget what you did for me,” he says now, “But I also didn’t think I’d have to cash it in like this. Watching you risk everything for him like you don’t know better. You spent your whole life climbing just to throw yourself off the edge for some idiot.”

He shakes his head, something venomous creeping into the corner of his mouth. “You made me your accomplice the second you didn’t lock that door.”

“I’m so sorry,” The tears that threaten to spill from your eyes linger. You mean every ounce of that apology. Truly, cross your heart and hope to die.

“I’m not used to seeing you like this,” he continues, softer now, but no less direct. “You… the woman who eats deadlines for breakfast. Kinda thought you didn’t have time for that stuff. It rattled me. Because if you’re out here losing your shit over some pretty boy in overpriced underwear ads, what hope is there for the rest of us mortals?"

You laugh, or try to. It comes out sounding like something breaking.

He smiles. "That was me trying to lighten the mood. Was it terrible?"

"No," you say quietly, something hot and sharp behind your eyes. "It was perfect."

There's another really long pause. One that feels like an exhale instead of drowning. He taps a finger against the coffee cup he brought you. "Listen. I don't know the details, and I don't need to. But I've known you long enough. You don't make reckless choices. So if something happened, it wasn't nothing."

Your throat closes up. You don't trust yourself to say a word. He leans back in his chair, watching you with eyes that see too much. "Whatever this is, just... don't forget who you are, okay? You've survived worse than Jeon Jungkook."

Nodding slowly, you press your fingertips to your temple like you might hold back the headache building there. "I know. I just feel... insane."

"Well," Daniel says, rising from the chair with a soft grunt, "then I'll sit with you until you find your way back."

He squeezes your shoulder as he passes, then walks to the door.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

When Daniel finally leaves you alone with your thoughts, you realize just how fucking good you've gotten at avoiding Jungkook.

You know his schedule. You memorized it without even trying. You know which meetings he'll show up for and which ones he'll conveniently "miss." You know the sound of his voice through walls, the weight of his presence in a hallway, the subtle shift in atmospheric pressure when he's nearby, and you've become a goddamn expert at walking the other direction.

It's not just about keeping your sanity intact. It's about survival. About keeping your head down, wearing your title like body armor, and not letting him see the hairline fractures still spreading through everything.

You made peace with Daniel. You're slowly regaining your balance. You're getting through your inbox without your stomach dropping. You're back to being the boss, reviewing assets, dissecting launch strategy without your pulse going haywire.

You're almost whole.

But that peace lasts just about two whole milliseconds.

Because of fucking course, Jungkook finds you.

You're walking out of a meeting on the 17th floor, tablet still in hand, already mentally juggling the next three hours of corporate bullshit. You turn the corner to take the back stairs… and there he is.

Leaning against the glass like he owns the place, arms crossed, legs stretched out like he didn't help demolish your world.

His eyes lift when he sees you. And he doesn't smile. That somehow makes it a thousand times worse.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

"Nope," you mutter instantly, spinning on your heel like you're fleeing a crime scene, but he pushes off the wall and follows, moving with that purpose that makes your stomach drop.

"Wait," he says.

"No," you snap, refusing to even glance his way, your steps quickening to escape velocity. "Absolutely not. I just patched things up with Daniel, and I'm not about to torch that progress by getting caught in another clusterfuck with you—"

"Would you just stop?"

His voice slices down the corridor, not loud, but sharp enough to cut.

You do stop. You freeze mid-stride, shoulders going rigid, teeth clenched so tight you can feel your head pounding. You turn around with painful slowness, blinking back whatever emotion is threatening to surface.

He's right there, barely arm's length away. Close enough that you could touch him if you were stupid enough.

It’s infuriating how quickly your body remembers exactly what he feels like.

"I don't want to fight," he swallows, voice dropping to something softer. "I just—"

You hold up a hand like a traffic cop. "Don't."

"Can we just talk?"

"Jungkook," you hiss through your teeth, glancing over your shoulder to make sure there's no audience for this train wreck. "You're a walking disaster, and I don't have the time or sanity to keep spinning your name into fucking gold right now. So please… get out of my way."

He stares at you, something passing over his face that you can't decipher. He won’t budge, just looks at you like he's trying to read between lines you didn't even know you were writing.

You begin to walk away, yet this time, you allow yourself to look back at his wistful expression. That’s the whole problem, isn't it? No matter how many boundaries you draw in permanent marker, he always finds the one you forgot existed.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

You barely register the tug on your wrist before you're being dragged sideways, away from the glass hallway and through a side door, the cold stairwell swallowing you both like some concrete mouth. The door clicks shut behind you, the sound bouncing off the walls.

"What the hell are you doing?" you snap, yanking your arm back like it's burning. Your heels scrape against the stairs, those shitty fluorescent lights humming overhead. "Are you out of your mind?"

"You've been ignoring me," Jungkook says, his voice cutting through the stale air. "For days."

"Good," you shoot back, something you qualify as dust catching in your throat. "Maybe take the hint next time."

His jaw tightens, muscle jumping beneath his skin. "Why? Because Daniel walked in on something he didn't understand? He’s all good now you said it yourself that you guys patched things up."

"You don't get to talk about Daniel," you hiss, the words sharp enough to draw blood. "You don't know what I've had to fix."

He steps down the stairwell, arms spreading wide in frustration. "What is there to fix? We didn't murder someone, we were kissing!"

"That's not all it was and you know it!" Your voice splinters. It ricochets off the walls.

He freezes and so do you. Your heart hammers against your ribs, vision crystallizing with fury. His face is a locked door; tense, brow creased, eyes dark as bruises. But you keep going, because the rage is a living thing inside you now.

"You don't understand what's at stake for me," you say, quieter but brittle as glass. "You never have. You walk into a room and everyone parts for you. You smile and the world forgives you. But me? If I mess up, even once, they will never let me come back from it."

He's standing there like a statue, watching you like he can't decide if he should be angry or wounded.

"I clawed my way into this position," you whisper, the words scraping your throat. "And every single day, I have to prove I deserve it. That I'm not some girl from Busan who got lucky. That I'm not fragile. That I'm not just a pretty face with an expensive resume. I don't get the luxury of being messy, Jungkook. Not like you."

His expression shifts, a crack in the marble. "You think that's who I am?" he retorts, "You think I haven't had to fight for anything?"

"You're an idol," you snap, the word leaving your mouth like a bullet. "A loved one. Protected. Handled. You don't even manage your own schedule. There are three people for that."

The words land harder than you intended. You see it in the way his shoulders pull back, in the silence that falls like a guillotine. There's a pause so thick you could choke on it.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

"Right," he says finally, bitterly. "Because everything I've worked for doesn't count. Got it."

You really didn't mean to go for the jugular like that.

He laughs once, "You think being an idol is easy? That it doesn't come with a thousand rules and eyes and expectations? You think I don't know what it feels like to lose sleep wondering if today's the day the internet turns on you?"

You press your spine against the cold wall, head tilted away, “This was never supposed to matter," you whisper.

"Yeah," he says. "But it did."

You look at him. You hate how true it rings. You hate the guilt gnawing at your insides. You hate that your first instinct is to soften, to reach for him, to take it all back.

At the end of the day, this is your career. This is everything. If it’s a race between CMO or Jungkook, that position is taking first place.

So instead, you just say, "I can't afford to let it matter."

The words float between you two. He laughs again, this sharp, jagged sound that slices through the stairwell like an axe. He steps closer, something burning behind his eyes now, voice rising not in volume but in something far more devastating — disappointment. “Right," he says, muscle working in his jaw. "Of course you can't. God forbid anything in your life matter more than power. Than control. Than your perfect fucking empire."

You turn to him, eyes narrowing to slits, pulse hammering in your throat. "Don't you dare—"

He keeps going, relentless. He's not shouting, but it feels like he is. "You know what your problem is? You only care about money. About image. You care more about looking powerful than being happy."

Your hands curl into fists, nails biting into your palms. "Excuse me?"

He takes another step closer, not touching you but near enough that your breath halts, near enough that the heat between your bodies feels like something alive.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

"You didn't even want to see your parents," he challenges ,"You were back in Busan for three days, and you nearly drank yourself sick instead of facing them. You think I didn't notice that? You think I didn't see the way you flinched every time you talked about home?"

Your whole body goes still. The silence swallows everything — your breath, your thoughts, the distant hum of the building around you. It roars in your ears like an ocean you're drowning in.

Those words, when put together into a coherent sentence, describe exactly why you don’t let anyone in. Never have. You let people orbit. You let them see enough to feel close, but never the core. Never the part that still aches when you think about your mother’s voice on the phone, or the silence you perpetrated between you and your sister who used to be your best friend. You let people near the burn, but never close enough to touch the match. And yet somehow, impossibly, he’s already there. Past the fences, past the warning signs, past the places you thought were locked so tightly even you forgot where the keys were.

It doesn’t even sound cruel. It sounds like he knows. Like he’s seen that quiet, aching center of you and reached straight into it without permission. All you can do is stand there, aching pain caught in your throat, because the truth is you shut people out to keep yourself from bleeding. But it’s too late. He’s already inside. Now you have no idea how to stitch yourself back up around him.

Your voice, when it finally claws its way out, is carved from something furious. “How fucking dare you," you murmur, "How fucking dare you use that against me."

"I'm not using it against you," he fires back, "I'm telling you that this, whatever it is between us, matters. And you're the one running from it. You're the one pretending none of it touched you. So yeah, I'm angry. I'm angry because you make me feel like I'm nothing more than a risk. Like I'm something to hide. Something to be ashamed of."

"You don't get to talk to me about shame," you snap, whole body trembling with a rage that feels like it might tear you open. "You think just because you've been famous for a decade, you understand what it's like to be a woman in this industry? To fight for every room you're allowed to exist in, to be doubted and diminished and dismissed every time you breathe too loudly? Do you know how many men in this building would celebrate my downfall like it's a fucking holiday?"

His lips press into a bloodless line. "So?. At least then you'd be honest. At least then you wouldn't be hiding behind this mask like nothing ever reaches you."

"You want honesty?" you spit, stepping toward him now, close enough to count his eyelashes. "Here's honesty. I don't trust anyone. Not you. Not this. I have fought for every microscopic particle of my existence, and you walked in, half-naked and dripping arrogance, and decided you were entitled to all of it, like I owe you something because you want me. But I don't owe you a goddamn thing, Jungkook."

His eyes flare with something dangerous. "That's not what this is."

"Then what is it?" you demand, the question hanging between you like smoke. "Because it sure as hell isn't casual anymore. And I don't know what it is, and I don't have the time to figure it out, and I swear to God if you ever bring up my family again—"

He cuts you off, not with words, but with their absence. His jaw is clenched tight, hands balled into fists at his sides. There's color burning across his cheekbones, and something wild and wounded blazing behind his eyes.

You're both breathing like you've been running, standing so close you can feel the electricity crackling in the narrow gap between your bodies. It's not desire anymore, or lust. Not even that soft, aching hunger that comes with wanting.

This is something else entirely. This is two people who've gone too far, felt too much, unraveled completely. This is war with no boundaries.

You can hear your pulse in your ears. Not the steady rhythm of life, but a violent percussion thundering against the fragile walls of your composure. Each beat echoes the fault lines spreading through whatever remains of your defenses.

Your voice emerges from some deep place you seldom acknowledge, not trembling from fear, but vibrating with the particular rage that comes from having something sacred violated. From watching him reach into the darkest corners of your history and pull out the one thing you've spent years burying beneath ambition and achievement.

"If you ever," you begin, hands quivering with the effort of restraint, "ever bring up my family again, Jeon Jungkook—"

You eliminate what little distance remains between you, until your accusation brushes against the vulnerable hollow of his throat, until you're drowning in the maelstrom of his eyes, that peculiar blend of fury layered atop something deeper, something he's desperately trying to conceal beneath his anger.

"You're dead to me."

The silence crystallizes between you, sharp-edged and dangerous as broken mirrors.

"Even more than you are right now," you finish, voice barely audible yet somehow filling the stairwell with its venom.

Jungkook remains perfectly still, a statue carved from tension. Only his breath betrays him,, ragged and uneven, the exhale of someone who's been struck somewhere vital.

"Wow," he mutters finally, shaking his head with a terrible comprehension dawning. "That's what you think of me?"

You laugh sarcastically, "Don't act surprised. You've been pushing since day one. Testing limits. Undermining me in front of my team, flirting with Jennie in front of the entire industry, fucking me in conference rooms and pretending it didn't matter. So no, Jungkook, I don't owe you any soft version of myself. Not now. Not ever."

He's regarding you now with the disoriented gaze of someone who's woken up in unfamiliar territory, as though the map he's been following has suddenly revealed itself to be for another country entirely. Like perhaps he mistook your moments of vulnerability for surrender.

But you can't afford softness. Not when everything within you feels precariously balanced on the edge of collapse. Not when admitting the truth might dissolve whatever remains of your world.

"You're so scared of being known," he says, and the words emerge not as an accusation but as a revelation, quiet and devastating in their naked honesty. "So scared of letting anyone see you. Even me."

You scoff, armoring yourself against the terrifying accuracy of his observation. "Don't make this about feelings."

"It was always about feelings," he snaps,"You're just the only one too stubborn to admit it."

Your heart performs a strange, painful contortion, folding in on itself like origami made from something that was never meant to bend.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

You want to say more. You want to scream until your voice shatters against the concrete walls. You want to curse him for every emotion he's excavated from the depths you've spent years paving over, for every second he stood there refusing to retreat, for every moment he made you believe that perhaps someone had finally seen past the constructed architecture of your public self to the trembling foundation beneath.

But if you part your lips now, the flood that follows might sweep away everything you've built.

So instead, you draw in a breath that feels more final. And you say, "I don't want to see you again unless it's for the fucking campaign."

Jungkook flinches. A microexpression of pain that ripples across his features like a stone disturbing still water, enough for you to register, to catalog, to store away in that dangerous archive of moments when his armor has slipped.

Then you pivot away, your heels striking a funeral march up the stairwell and out the door as you abandon him in the hollow space of your shared destruction.

You don't permit yourself the luxury of a backward glance.

You can't.

Because if you do, you might forgive him. And right now, you need the anger to win.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

taglist ; @lovingkoalaface @maybetheproblemisme @mimi1097 @mar-lo-pap @mysjammy @yooniepot @tinytan-gerine @ashslight @sky-23s-world @myzzysstuff @elinaki92 @7fever @munchkin-kitty7-blog @uarmygguk @jjkluver7 @coletaehyung @jkxlvrr @amarawayne @kooslilhoe @bangchanwantsmesobad @kpopslur @senaqsstuff @sugakookies77 @tteokbokibyjk @emmie2308 @neurospicynugget @prxdajeon @majesticjung-97 @jksusawife @rkivesarchive @hyunjinswifetingzz @bjoriis @nan4rf @parkinglot-nights @travelgurrl @softhaes @bexxs @magicalnachocreator @wisebouquetbarbarian @futuristicenemychaos @jadestonedaeho7

[ninguitar]

KISS ME THRU THE PHONE, 𓈒𓈒 aeri as ur gf with a twist.

pairing. aeri uchinaga x f!r genre. fluff wc. 600 idk notes. saw pinkselle and KNEW i had to make a quick dravble on her. also a quick little gift for my baefy @sed7ction >< MASTERLIST.

now playing ⋆ sunsetz by cigarettes after sex

WHAT STARTED AS A SIMPLE FRIENDSHIP, where you and aeri uchinaga, a former classmate, rekindle with one-another, eventually turned into more-than-friends relationship.

as the clock struck 4 in the morning for you, and 3 in the afternoon for giselle on a breezy, autumn night, you lifted your phone, immediately dialing giselle's number—just once more to hear the girl's voice.

after all, you missed the japanese girl.

you're met with a dark, black screen on your phone, aeri's voice ringing through your ears. "hello?" the girl barely audible.

you whisper against the phone, "gi? you there," afraid to wake up your roommate, who'd more than likely ramble on and on about needing her "beauty sleep," which often fell deaf on your ears.

"yeah, yeah, 'course i am," giselle drawls, and it was almost as though you could hear her ear-to-ear grin that stretched her lips.

"good, good," you mumble slowly, to which giselle almost chuckles, raising her volume button, "missed me, didn't you?"

ever since giselle went on her world tour with her members, you both had to cram in time to call each other, which in hindsight, was excruciatingly difficult.

"maybe i just wanted to see your new pink hair, that you never told me 'bout," you poked fun at her, your laugh barely above a whisper, but nonetheless, aeri couldn't help the way her heartstrings tug at your melodic laugh.

"whatever you say," the japanese girl simply chuckles, her eyes darting around your features—even when you were disheveled, in the dim room with only your phone illuminating your face, giselle couldn't feel more content seeing you, that it almost made her lightheaded, even.

"you should've let me inside your luggage, just like i suggested when you told me about going on tour," you giggle, heat curling on your cheeks.

aeri didn't think that, without a person in her life, she would be absolutely crushed; at every slipping moment while on tour, all she could think about was your presence—your warm, inviting presence that had her moonstruck.

"go to sleep, you big fool; you always say such corny things (that i love) when you're all tired," giselle quips, rubbing her temples dramatically, as your corny comments only make her flushed. god, she was helplessly in love with you.

you huff, protesting like a kid trying to avoid their bedtime, "wanna hear your voice, c'mon," making giselle scoff.

oh, how you just missed giselle's unwavering touch—her arms snaked around your waist, fitting perfectly and snug, her velvety, soft lips pressed against your temples to calm you down, and the way she just buried her head against the crook of your neck, inhaling the perfume she bought you.

and oh, have you missed the way giselle spoiled you rotten, no matter how much you protested that she was frugal in spending her money on you. though, of course, she'd buy her pretty girl the entire shop—with a beck and call, she'll hurriedly rush to your side, immediately buying it.

not to mention, the way her hands rested on her guitar, before strumming to a familiar beat, her angelic, melodic voice seeping through. the way she just secretly opens your playlists—which often consisted of aespa's songs—memorizing each and every song down to its notes to ensure its perfect, just to serenade you.

"how about i stay on call 'till you sleep, yeah?" giselle proposes, which makes you automatically nod, eager.

you throw yourself back onto your bed, your head buried against your pillows, before blissfully succumbing to slumber, your grip on your phone loosening, and turning the camera to your ceiling.

god were you cute, "goodnight, y/n, sweet dreams."

i wanna hear your voice

a love that nobody could destroy

[yjsteamwife]

she's cute

jackie taylor x reader

description: after a fun night out with your friends, you and jackie spend the next morning together.

word count: 716

a/n: hi! currently reposting this from my other account!

please feel free to leave a request!

my masterlist!

jackie taylor spotify playlist!

you woke up to hair piled in your face, the smell of your favorite shampoo hitting your nose.

not your shampoo. jackies shampoo.

you smile softly, wrapping your arms tighter around her and closing your eyes to take it all in.

these were your favorite moments: waking up with your girlfriend wrapped around you, sunlight slowly filtering into the room.

especially after a fun night out at the local fair with your friends, celebrating a team victory.

the photo strip you guys took sat against jackies mirror. it was the end of the night, and you were all getting ready to head out. jackie, having spotted the little photo booth, enthusiastically suggested you all took a photo.

"and how exactly do you expect us all to fit in there, jackie?" tai had asked with a grin, a tiny plush dog van had won for her in her arms.

so, for the first three photos, you all took turns in small groups. you, jackie and shauna in the first one. next, lottie, laura lee and nat. van, tai and mari went in the for the third one.

for the last one, you all did your best to pile in the small booth, sitting on each other and poking your heads in.

"get on my lap tai!"

"im getting crushed.'

"mari, lift your head higher!"

"shauna, laura lee, scootch!"

"two more seconds!!!"

after you all parted ways, you and jackie had ended up back at her place. with her parents not home, you didn't have to sneak around.

and now here you were. as happy as could be.

"g'mornin."

jackie was waking up, mumbling into your chest. she snuggled closer, and you smiled into her hair.

pressing a kiss to the top of her head, you greeted her back, rubbing her back as you did so.

"sleep good?" you asked, pulling back a bit and scooting down to face her.

jackie opened her eyes, groggy and tired. "mhm," she yawned and smiled, "what about you?"

you told her the same and moved one of your hands up to push hair out of her face. you kept your hand there, at the back of her head, and lightly scratched.

leaning up, you placed a kiss to her forehead. then another. then another. and one more.

jackie giggled softly and lightly pushed you away with a smile. "lean off," she muttered. though there was no real force behind it.

you sigh dramatically, "but, how can I?" you get closer to her, nose to nose. "you're just so pretty. so cute," pouting, you look into her eyes.

she let's out a laugh, but makes no move to get away. you both stay there for a minute, just looking at each other, in complete comfort and content.

jackie then moves slowly, lifting her hand up towards the pout that still rest on your face. her thumb moves to wipe across it, gently clearing it off. when she's done, she doesn't go to move it away.

she lays her hand there, thumb still against your lip. you press a kiss to it, then move to press another to her lips.

she gives a hm of content as you both lay there.

a few minutes later, jackies phone starts to ring. the song "girls just wanna have fun" let's you both know that it's lottie calling. you groan, burying your face into her shoulder. "Iet it ring," you mutter.

jackie laughs, patting your shoulder. "let's just see what she wants." she turns and reaches behind her, grabbing her phone and answering.

"hey lottie!" she's chipper, and you can hear that lotties the same way on the other end.

after a good five minutes, you've put together from whatever you've heard that you guys are going out again today. jackie hangs up and confirms as much, and you sigh.

"alrighty then." laying on your back, you stretch and groan. "i guess we have to get up now."

jackie nods, "im gonna go brush my teeth. get dressed. wear that top I got you the other day. I have a matching dress I'm gonna wear."

you look back at her and raise an eyebrow. "yes ma'aaam." she looks back at you with a smirk, moving towards the restroom.

you watch her go and smile.

she's cute.

[cherie-doll]

Could you do like a scenecore reader that also dyes their hair? and cod men? Like dunno giving them a handmade bracelet I dunno? *pokes my fingers together*

-🪒(Reserving a Anon cause i'll be back!)

hii 🪒 anon!! glad you're reserving! and if anyone else wants to do the same then feel free to do so :D

ミ☆ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Scenecore!Reader x COD Men

★ Price...

sometimes when he comes home he'll find you in the bathroom dying your hair, he loves seeing you do fun stuff with your hair and will even run to buy more box dye incase you run out or you got the wrong color (which happens often)

there's a hc that he was prob a punk or some sort of alternative when he was a teen so he's familiar with you customizing and diying your stuff

he also never thought to be into the scene subculture but he can't help but smile when you leave a handmade kandi bracelet for him, even if it looks a little out of place for him to wear, he doesn't care

he will put that on his wrist and wear it around like he wears his ring

★ Ghost...

it's funny when walking around together in public with the tall intimidating guy who's always wearing a face covering and dark clothing and then there's you, the bright clothes, the dyed and teased hair, arms covered in kandi bracelets looking like a rainbow vomited on you

they should really see your house... his side of the closet is almost the same outfits just different shades of dark colors and your side has possibly every color ever made

still, if people looked close enough they would be able to see the bracelet you made for him that just barely peeks out from underneath the sleeve of his jacket along with some jelly bracelets

people often assume Simon is some former goth dating the scene/scenecore

★ Soap...

you wonder why you ran out of dye so quickly when you need it, you had bought a couple new boxes of hair dye only to find them gone when you needed them, when you see Johnny it all makes sense; he had attempted dying his own hair

according to him he wanted to try wearing your hair extensions first but quickly realized they wouldn't stay in, you can't help but laugh at how his hair turned out, the front looks kinda good it actually surprises you, the back however...

when at a store he's actually the one hyping you up when you find something you could use to incorporate it into your look, he buys whatever for you and loves wearing matching kandi bracelets with you

his whole forearm will be covered in kandi and jelly bracelets he doesn't care he loves it!

★ Gaz...

he knows where you are in a store by the ton of jewelry you wear with charms and beads, or you might accidentally drop a bracelet or lose an earring leaving a trail he can follow to find you

ofc he knows to find you either in a thrift shop, in the jewelry section or where the box dye is at, he's quick to offer to buy anything you might want

he knows how much you love experimenting with your hair, maybe you like adding animal prints in your hair :D

in the car he likes to put your playlist on that will have you both vibing together throughout the entire car trip, poor soul to whoever is travelling with you tho

★ Roach...

loves wearing anything you gift him, especially if you customized it or made it yourself, he wants to feel included, often times when you're touching up on your hair or dying it again he'll sit in the bathroom with you

sometimes it takes a long time dying your hair, especially if you like to do prints on your hair because you're tired of your extensions falling out all the time :(

and the entire time he's sitting there keeping you company looking at you like this :D

he even helps you pick out which color you should do next when you can't decide!

he gets all giddy when you sit down and make kandi bracelets together <3 and then gift him the one you made and he gives you the one he made, so now you're wearing bracelets the other made!

★ Alejandro...

your style was definitely something new to him, due to the great war of emos vs punks in '08 in Mexico he assumed you were what he described a 'colorful emo', until you corrected him

he really likes it actually, he's seen how you manage to coordinate your outfits and even cut, dye and style your own hair, talk about being resourceful!

when your hair is freshly dyed, you'll wash it and go to sleep with it slightly damp, the next morning you wake up to find your pillow stained, it used to scare him real bad when you had it dyed red and he assumed the stain on the pillow was blood

★ Rudy...

he loves learning about what you're into, your interests are now his!!

he's also tried styling you before and he actually managed to do a pretty good job! you asked him how he did it and he mentioned he's seen you coordinate your outfits and so he was able to pick up off that

on his days off, he loves spending them with you and taking you to all the stores that have deals on their bundles so you can get a ton or new hair clips and silly accessories you end up trying on Rudy only to take a 0.5 pic of

and vice versa ^^ he loves taking pics of you in your outfits, in fact, on his phone lock screen he has you with your best outfit yet posing as his wallpaper, just to be smug he likes leaving his phone face up on the table just so that he can see that picture of you when a message lights up his screen

★ Phillip Graves...

won't ever ask you to "tone it down", it's your style and he thinks you should proudly wear it, you look unique and he personally loves it

he will definitely glare at anyone who scoffs or says a rude remark about you, especially if the area you live in is known to be more conservative, he loves seeing the look on people's faces when they see you walk past

sometimes his shadows like to tease him when they notice him wearing the bracelet you made for him, they keep saying it looks like some little kid made it but he quickly states that you made it for him

i can just imagine the whiplash when his playlist goes from his average dad rock/country music to your liked songs invading his phone when on shuffle, he might bop to it tho but won't ever admit it

★ Makarov...

he's told you multiple times he can just take you to get your hair professionally done, there is no need for you to buy cheap box dye for your hair but you like it better this way

this way you can add your own unique and personal touch to it that you love, and no professional hairstylist will be able to do it how you like it, he gives in and stops insisting after you remind him that every time

but he definitely loves your creative diy and style, he just wanted to make sure you weren't staining the bathroom towels with your box dye because you were too shy to ask him to take you to the hair salon but that's not the case :)

and he treasures the bracelets you gift him more than he does the expensive watches and jewelry he buys for himself

★ Keegan...

yk how kandi bracelets can say crazy stuff on them sometimes?

yeah so, the first time he noticed your bracelets and read some of the words you've arranged on there he was flabbergasted to say the least

you put diabolical phrases on his kandi bracelets when you make some for him, and when you put them on for him you make sure the words are upside down so HE doesn't notice it but the person who's in front of him will if they glance at it

it isn't until later when he takes them off that he notices they have sexual phrases, your favorite one for him to wear is one that says "suck me off"

★ König...

it took him a while to understand your texting whenever he peeked at your laptop when you left it open, he didn't really consider himself to be behind on trends until now even if it wasn't anything new but it was to him

he also doesn't know what half the references the words on your kandi bracelets mean either but he rolls with it anyways, you've probably told him before but you ramble on so much that he can only remember a handful of stuff you say

one of his favorite moments of the day are when he arrives home and you're just on your laptop scrolling and vibing to music, you even get up and dance to it inviting him to join you even if he's terrible at it but hey, at least you're having fun together :)

★ Horangi...

he knows how much you love thrifting for new clothes so he likes finding good thrift shops you can go crazy in and then show him the new outfits you put together with them, he also likes surprising you with brand/label clothes and items

you often feel guilty bc you know how expensive those brands can get but he insists on it, he loves you showing your colors and taking you out

he's even dyed his hair colors to match with you! you can't tell me he isn't a little into the alternative side as well, he's definitely expanded his style since he met you

you two even have your matching jewelry for almost every occasion that you've handmade when out on dates, like those places that are for couples to book so they can diy stuff together (if ykyk bc i forgot what they're called)

★ Nikto...

i can just imagine the first time you shuffled up to him and extended your hand to open it and he sees a colorful little bracelet there

he tilted his head, confused what you were offering to him, oh a bracelet? that little thing? it doesn't look like something he'd wear himself but... since you made it he slips it on, good thing the cord is elastic and stretchy therefore he can pull it through his burly, big hand

he shrugs but on the inside he feels his heart beat a little faster, later he forgets to take it off or you slip a bracelet in his duffel bag when he leaves another member will notice the colored kandi bracelet and ask about it

he's not in the slightest bit embarrassed to say it was you, no amount of teasing will make him take it off

[saaturnia]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Non-Cliche Astro Takes:

☾𖤓 hey there! I’m Deidre, I’m a professional tarot reader and musician, and I’ve been studying the occult for about a decade. Here are some less-commonly noted astrology observations that I’ve picked up on over the years. For more posts like this, tarot readings, esoteric content, and music, give me a follow. Enjoy! ☾𖤓

꩜ Aries aren’t loud for no reason, and depending on their aspects to Mercury/where Mars is, they may not be loud at all. What people mistake for “loudness” is them being chronically unheard and/or repeatedly needing to express their softer feelings by way of frustration. They often feel that their softer emotions aren’t taken seriously until it turns to anger. It’s the only time their feelings are seemingly given any attention.

꩜ That stubbornness in Taurus that y’all love to poke fun at? A lot of the time, that’s them recognizing what they’re worth and accepting nothing less. They’re the type to turn down a “chump change” gig because they know it’s a waste of their energy and effort. Additionally, being Venus-ruled, they tend to are good at being “home-y” people. This only becomes a problem when they extend that cozy energy to the wrong people — they’d do well to learn from their sister sign’s (Scorpio) knack for privacy.

꩜ Gemini (especially Venus’) mean what they say when they utter the phrase “oh, I listen to anything.” Their playlists have the widest genre variety, easily. Their wardrobes are the same. One day, they’re rocking a goth getup, and the next they’re sashaying around in a Gunne-Sax gown like Florence Welch. Their versatility knows no bounds, which is often mistaken for being a “poser.” Their Mercurial minds hold much more information than they get credit for.

꩜ Cancer are much more vindictive than we realize. I’d argue much more than Scorpio (especially Cancer Moons). Don’t get me wrong, they’re sweethearts and are quite sensitive to the energetic world, but they pack a punch. Never forget that they’re a Cardinal sign just like Aries! They are most easily motivated when their tender hearts are considered by those around them.

꩜ Looking for a hype-person? Look no further than Leo. They’re like the intimidating “it-girl” except they want YOU to be the “it-girl” alongside them. Don’t be turned off by their confidence and bold exterior because they’re more than willing to spread that light to their loved ones. They are judged for being a bit selfish, but selfishness is not inherently bad/negative. Leo shows us how to shine without being ashamed.

꩜ Virgo is so much more than Excel, deep-cleaning, and organization. While yes, they value order, they only do so because they are a purifying energy. It’s easier for them to be their best selves and truly lean into the ‘healer’ archetype if their space, and mind, is clear. I’ve personally found that they have incredible intuitions, particularly Virgo rising. Being ruled by Mercury gives them one hell of a perceptive mind. They also are very good teachers/work well with children (Virgo moon/Mercury especially).

꩜ Why does everyone think that beautiful Libra is all golden-hour, Aphrodite, and Coquette aesthetics? As much as those things do play into Libra’s energy, we can’t forget that this sign is exalted in Saturn. Their shadow side is often over-looked or assumed not to exist at all because they are ruled by Venus. Many people are drawn to Libra initially because of their beautiful aura and natural glow, but those that understand Libra stick around because they recognize their depth. Libras can’t forget how multifaceted they are, though — don’t fall victim to the short-sighted projections of others!

꩜ Scorpio, the fiery water sign! Similarly to Libra, I see Scorpio get labeled as moody, brooding, dark, suffering artists. While they do have a tendency for the macabre at times, they cherish the opportunities they get to embrace their lighter side. Curling up with their favorite person and playing Animal Crossing on a couple of bean bags is a dream night to a lot of Scorpios. They have a vast inner world and a similar temperament to Aries (they’re both ruled by Mars, traditionally).

꩜ Sagittarius are, arguably, one of the more open-minded energies in the Zodiac. I feel sometimes their endless questions come across as judgmental to others, when it’s truly just them trying to satiate their curiosity. At their worst, they play Devil’s Advocate, but it’s mainly because they know what it feels like to have your voice dismissed (Sag moons/Mercury, imo). They are open books and love to spend time around different cultures, belief systems, languages, or anything considered “foreign” to them. Very prone to go down Wikipedia rabbit holes.

꩜ Capricorn is often viewed as rigid and cold, but that’s just their auto-pilot persona for before they’re comfortable. Their dry, sardonic humor is truly goat’d (pun intended). As with any Saturnian sign/aspect, these folks tend to carry a heavy burden from a young age. Often times, they love things from the past. History, literature, music, clothing styles, etc. Their “obsession” with money is more so a craving for stability. Capricorns (moons especially) have no problem playing the long game so…do with that information what you will.

꩜ As much as I love the alien Aquarius stereotype, these folks are truly outside-the-box thinkers. They seem “alien” and unable to relate to because they do not fit into any mold that has ever been expected of/placed on them. Also ruled by Saturn (traditionally), Aquarius takes the lessons they go through and usually want to use them to improve the world/their community. I think of them as the more “public” provider rather than an “interpersonal” provider like Capricorn.

꩜ Finally, my lovely Pisces. They’re not crybabies (really, they’re not…that’s Aries)they just have really bad allergies this time of year so give them a break! These little fish are hard to pin down and that’s how they like it. Being perceived really does bother them at times (Pisces stelliums/Moons, esp) so a healthy amount of alone time is a must. I’ve noticed they tend to love statues, plushies, and other artsy/collectible figurine-adjacent things. They’ll also watch holiday movies year-round (Halloween, Christmas, doesn’t matter).

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[jenosjarofjam]

Now, you're stuck with me forever

Alpha jeno x Omega fem!reader

-Rivals/enemies to lovers

Requested ✔️ @no-romance-for-me-please

Word count: 2k+word.

Warning: smut,abo stuff, a lot I mean a lot of slick, squirting, knotting, cussing, biting/marking, mention of scent, nicknames(princess, good girl, etc...)

An note! This is like my first one shot and abo so hopefully this is not too bad🤞.(I took some prompts idea from Tumblr.)I didn't really dive deep into the rival/enemies part.

Playlist: collide-Justine Skye, Best lover-BiBi

You took the same class with Jeno, both of you were the top 10 students in the whole uni. You vividly remember the first year you met Jeno, Jeno always sat next to you, taunting you when he got higher grades. On the other hand, you studied extra hard because of it, surprisingly Jeno still got a higher grade than you. This went on for months, until the professor decided to pair both of you up for a huge project, now you have no choice but work with him. You guys started texting each other, deadline of the project was approaching, you agreed on letting Jeno into your place to help on the project, another led to another, now he crashes into your place whenever he wants

9:34 a.m

Jeno: Can I come over I’m bored……

Y/n : Since when did you started asking?

Jeno:I’m just trying to be nice rn, I’ll bring you food.

Y/n:awwwwwwwwww are you showing affection to me rn?

Jeno: I want to wrap my hands around your throat, and choke you until the life in your eyes die down.

Y/n: kinky ;)

Jeno: stfu, u freak

Jeno was sitting on the couch, finalising the project while you ate your food. The presence of him was distracting you , you seem to be confused about the reason… but hey no one’s complaining when there’s free food.

You noticed the sun peeking through the curtains, sun ray hitting Jeno’s face, highlighting his features. He’s skin glowed under the sun, his eyes shimmered hazel, his nose- “Hey! Are you even listening to me?Hello? Earth to Y/n?” A voice abrupted your thoughts, you realised you have been unconsciously starring at him, your face blushed in embarrassment about being caught. “Were you starring at me?” He cocked his eyebrow in disbelief, “no- no way why would I be starring at you! You’re.. ugly.” Well that was a lie….. “You’re avoiding eye contac with me? Why’s that?” He grins in enjoyment watching you suffer. “No. NO why would I do that.” “Maybe because you’re into me?” He said poking fun at you. “ wha-what no no no…” “well, you’re looking at me like you want to murder me but also like…you want me.” He smirked, seeing your widened eyes. "*cough* umm I'm gonna go uhh get some water." You said, as you quickly walked to the kitchen. You let out a sigh, feeling like you lost your breathe just the moment before. You felt... feverish, oddly... horny.

You went back talking with Jeno, it still doesn't help the fact that you're thinking about getting pounded by a particular person. The uncomfortable stickiness between your thighs was borderline painful, you tried to ease the pain by crossing your legs...it didn't work. You spaced out looking into Jeno's eyes. "Hey... You should take a rest, you seem tired today," "Yeah..um yeah sorry I'll uh go to my room and get some rest, call me when you need anything." You responded, feeling the awkward tension in the room rise up. Little did you know, your scent was flaring up like crazy, the mix of raspberry jam and cherry blossom was putting off Jeno, the sweet smell of slick was oozing out of your panties, making it awfully hard for Jeno to keep his instincts and not to fuck you senselessly. You scurried off to your room, feeling overwhelmed to the brim. You started researching about random heats, trying to find the reason the sudden neediness. You came across an article about spontaneous heats.

Spontaneous heats-Though rare, there is a phenomenon called Spontaneous Heat, which is when an Omega goes into heat outside of their cycle. The rare cases where it happens include meeting one's perfect match (at which point both heat and rut begin almost immediately)

No way Lee Jeno was destined to be your mate, but you can’t deny he is dreadfully hot, but you definitely didn’t stand a chance to be with him.

All these mix signals are just throwing you over the edge.In spite of that, all you should be worrying right now is about the fact that you’re craving the feeling of Jeno’s dick sliding in and out of you.

You had to find a way to relief the pain, ignoring the fact Jeno is probably outside your room playing video games, you slipped your hand under your panties, stimulating your clit. You bite down on your pillow, trying to muffle your moans.

Jeno was standing outside your room, the scent of a sweet aroma slipping through the door crack is driving him insane. The sound of muffled moans , made it obvious you were touching yourself. The thought of marking you, letting everyone know you’re his. The desire to breed you, filling up your pussy with his cum. How pretty you’ll look when he fucks you until you’re senseless . He feels his body burning, blood rushing to his cock, he couldn’t get you off his mind the entire day, he was just craving to fuck you all day long . Jeno couldn’t hold it anymore, he knew damn way he wanted you, all the pretending was driving him mad.

As you were approaching your high, you closed your eyes and focused on the climax. Yougot so lost in the pleasure, you didn’t even notice that someone was standing in front of your doorway.

"Always so needy for me, having fun without me huh?" You quickly cover yourself, your face burned up in embarrassment, you stared at Jeno and his very prominent erection, the size of his bulge was huge , the sheer thought of it already makes you mouth water, you wondered how it’ll feel in your hand,or even in your tight pussy. “What you looking at?” Jeno interrupts your line of thoughts, but it doesn’t make it better. He's low raspy voice sends chills down your spine. He slowly walks to your bed, kneeling down and staring into your doe-eyes, you quickly turned your head away from his stare, he quickly leans closer, closer to the point you feel his breathe against yours " I asked you y/n, what are you looking at?”. Jeno realises how stupid this is, and pulls away, before you pull him by the collar, his lips crashes into yours, the hunger you both crave for each other is finally getting satisfied, his hands naturally went around your waist as he pulls you closer, goosebumps swarming every part of your body. He pulls away "do you want me to stop?” he asked, trying to reassure you wanted this. You hurriedly answered, longing for more “just the opposite, please” He pushes you on to the bed, now you’re under him.

“Submit yourself,” he demanded, “jeno-” “What did you call me?” he abruptly shouted, making you jolt from the unexpected behaviour. “I’m sorry, al-alpha.” he slowly pulled down your flimsy shorts along with your pink panties, the cold hands made you squirm away from his touch. He quickly put his hands on your hips and pull you in, “Let me take care of you, let me make you feel good, let me make you mine,” he whispers into your ears before he forcefully lifts your head up, now you’re staring at him. He’s eyes filled with lust, the dark orbs felt like they were burning holes in yours. He takes off his shirt, his toned abs, arms bulging with veins, looks just like a wet dream in sight. He spreads your legs further apart, slotting his head between your legs. He started licking your hole, not letting a single drop of slick going to waste, before adding two fingers into your leaking hole, slick dripping to his chin, his nose bumping onto your clit adding the extra sensation, making you moan like crazy. “Fuck, you taste so sweet, taste like mine,”he mumbled, the sound of slurping echoes in your ear, your hand naturally find its way down to his head, you grip firmly on his hair, tugging it slightly letting him know your getting close to your climax. The high he brought you was like shockswaves crashing into you, you arch your back gripping harder onto his hair, you let a breathy gasp as you came all over his face.

“I’m not done with you, yet." His eyes darkened as you reached your hands towards him, freeing his cock out of his confinement, it spring out hitting his abdomen. It was huge, far from the ones you've taken before. He slowly lift your legs up, pushing the tip in you, the stretch was painfully good, you unconsciously clenched around him making him groan, your slick coating his dick making it easier for him to fit. He gave you time to adjust to his length then he slowly thrusted into you. “Fuck- take it like a good omega that you are.” The new feeling of adrenaline came rushing in, your eyes rolled back when he hit the spot that made you see stars. He lets out a low breathy grunt , your creamy velvety walls sucking him in deeper, the tight fit making you feel every inch of him, every single veins dragging in and out of your pussy. He started thrusting in a merciless rhythm, he grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly, his tongue swirled against yours, the passionate kiss turned into a messy make-out session. His warm lips taking over you, pussy gushing over his dick. "Alpha, I'm close-" you choked out "please, fill me up please.", you feel like time slowed, each thrust felt so sensitive, so good, you feel your vision blurring, the knot in your stomach snapped, you let a long lewd moan as you cum on Jeno's dick. Jeno kept thrusting, ignoring your whines. "Hmm, too much?? Too much for my omega? You were begging for it, you were begging me to fill you up right?? Good girl's keep their promises baby." The sensitivity was too much, you feel your eyes tearing up, you kept clenching on his girth, forming a creamy white ring around the base of his cock.

Jeno used his strength and flip you around, his big hands holding onto your hips, “ass up princess.” You obeyed, feeling a sharp slap on your butt, he swify pushes back in with a one quick thrust. "Plea-se knot- in me al-pha, please, wanna be full of your pups." You pleaded, the thought of being by each other's side everyday, carrying his child, was the best fucking dream ever. "Fuck- You want me to knock you up- huh? Such a slut, such a slut for me. Fuck I'm cumming." He grunted. Jeno grabbed your hair pulling it aside, exposing your bare neck and collarbones, Jeno put his nose on your neck, inhaling your sweet aroma. "Can I mark you- princess, wanna make you mine-" He asked, waiting to get a permission to forever mark you his. "Mark me please, alpha mark me!" Jeno licked the side of your neck, and bit down on it, he licked the blood that was oozing out of the mark. You screamed in pain, but the idea of being his was enough for you to bare the pain. Jeno kept thrusting in you, you feel like your were about to pass out, a new feeling rushed in, not like your typical orgasm. Your now breathy moans echoed the room along with the slapping sound of the skin, you screamed in pleasure as you squirted all over his abs. "S-shit , that was so hot, I'm so close princess." He growled, liquid dripping down your thighs. His thrusts became more sloppy, the raspy low grunts was starting to become smoky moans. You feel his dick twitched in you. He held you closer, gripping onto you harder. With a final push, his knot inflamed, hot white cum covering your walls, you whimpered from the knot's pain. The feeling was way too addictive that you can barely feel the pain now. Jeno lays on you for a few seconds, you can feel his warm breathe against your neck. It took a few seconds for him to recover from his orgasm, he finally broke the silence

"How are you feeling?" He asked genuinely, "Tired and confused...I thought you never liked me..." "Idiot, why would I not like you." "No shit Sherlock, you acted like you hated my guts." You argued

"Well now you're stuck with me forever."

[sl0t4matt]

m. guiu bf! head canons (requested)

❀ he‘s crazy about you.

❀ his friends like to tease him about how obsessed he is with you but he doesn’t care. how could he not? in his eyes you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on. outside and inside.

❀ he doesn’t want to spend his time with anyone that isn’t you.

❀ “marc! we’re gonna go out to eat with the team. you know, to celebrate tonight’s win.”

❀ “i’m okay, my girl is waiting for me.” he would say.

❀ you on the other hand like to also go out with your friends, since you never want to be that person, that does nothing with her friends anymore just because she’s dating someone.

❀ marc understands and waits in your bed for you, or calls hector out, since he’s always pissed marc completely neglects him when you’re around him.

❀ he just can’t help it. he’s head over heels for you. you got him charmed.

❀ you always send thirsty edits of him to him on tiktok.

❀ “fuck i look good.” he would say.

❀ but oh, can he be a part of the sassy man apocalypse. hitting you with comebacks you wouldn’t have even thought about. not even just that he would hit you with smart ass remarks. he was good with them. leaving you speechless sometimes.

❀ one thing about marc is he will spoil you. no matter how many times you tell him not to. that you do not need that prada bag on your pinterest board. it seems to be going in one ear and out of the other because he has almost bought you your whole pinterest wishlist.

❀ one of his most expensive gifts would be the catier bracelet that has his name engraved on it. you wear it every day to show everyone off but also feel close to him no matter where he is.

❀ you were so mad at him for buying it at first because of the price and how you don’t need all of that. that he’s enough. but he says he “wanted to” and shushes you.

❀ you’re his passenger princess.

❀ you have all of your lip products in his car. it almost looks like it’s your car.

❀ he always lets you put on your playlist since you think his music taste is shit.

❀ you influenced him though, because now he knows almost every song of your favourite artists and also listens to them while practice.

❀ he gets you your favourite flowers on every date you guys have. you could say it’s his love language to surprise you with flowers. even if the both of you just lay in your bed and watch a movie.

❀ when he’s coming to your house, he not only brings you flowers but also your mom and sweets for your siblings.

❀ another one of his love languages is physical touch. from only holding your waist in room full of people to kissing up your thighs as he goes down on you.

❀ he loves giving you head and tasting you. you think it gives him some sort of ego boost to please you.

❀ he also thinks it’s so hot when you wear his barca jersey while riding him. when you tried it for the first time it was just for fun wanting to try something new. you moaned “visca barca” in his ear, meaning for it to be funny. but he took it seriously and came three seconds after you said it. (😭)

❀ “please ma keep it on!” he would groan.

❀ can be such a whiny bitch sometimes when it comes to waiting to fuck you.

❀ it doesn’t help he would get hard at the most random moments.

❀ you lean into marc, your hand steading yourself on his leg to kiss him. your soft lips meet his for a few seconds then pull on his bottom lip teasingly.

❀ “let’s go in!” you pat his leg, leaning back in the seat as you wait for marc to open the door for you like he always does.

❀ “i-. uhm. can’t.” he coughs. you laugh loudly. “marc!! again?” you shake your head. “you’re pathetic!” you tease him laughing.

❀ you look down at the tent growing in his pants. “you’re not helping!” he groans his head falling back.

❀ “you want me to help you?” you poke his chest, winking. he sighs looking out. people won’t see us due to his black windows anyways.

❀ “fuck yeah. please do.”

❀ like said he loves you wearing his jersey that also speaks for the matches. it gives him strength to win, so you make sure that the barca jersey you’re wearing has the number 38 printed on it.

❀ you’re an emotional mess on his games. one time you’re celebrating that your boyfriends team scored, the other you’re cursing the refs and opponents.

❀ no one wants to face you when marc is scoring a goal. you’re going full crazy. yelling and chanting his name like an embarrassing mom. clapping and jumping like you’re completely mental.

❀ he points up to the bleachers to you, taking every opportunity on dedicating the goal to you. he would blow a kiss and you’d do the same after calming yourself down.

❀ you have a ritual for after the game. when the both of you come back from the game, you would give him a little reward for scoring ;)

❀ though it’s not really a valid one because when he loses, you try releasing his anger with doing the same thing.

❀ he would drag your hair while you give him head due to his anger.

❀ after completely ruining you he would apologise like the soft boyfriend he is.

❀ “sorry if i was too rough, baby.” he would say looking down on you.

❀ “it’s okay.” you would smile, eyes still glossy.

❀ after, you would lay your head on his chest and force him to stroke your arm until you fall asleep.

[holyblonded]

was there a reason on why sydney stayed even if azulita was the way she was? or did she just naturally gravitate towards her? idk all i know is they’re really cute they fr make me melt😭😭 also—frido, sydney, and vicky’s relationship with azulita 🔛🔝

— sydney stayed because she saw through it. all of it. the sharp tongue, the eye rolls, the way azulita pushed people away before they could even think about hurting her. syd just didn’t scare easy. didn’t flinch when azulita barked back at coaches or stormed off the pitch with clenched fists. where most would’ve said “what’s her problem?”, sydney looked at her and thought “what’s hurting?”

— maybe it wasn’t a conscious decision at first. maybe she just felt pulled to her, like some quiet instinct. like… “i know what lonely looks like.” and even if their pain wasn’t the same, syd recognized that flicker of it in azulita’s eyes and decided she wasn’t going to let her sit in it alone. not if she could help it.

— and azulita, for all her walls and bite, never actually pushed sydney away. not for real. she might’ve tested her, sure, tried to make her mad, tried to scare her off with all that fire, but syd never budged. she’d just blink at her, calm as ever, and say something dumb like “you done throwing a tantrum?” which somehow made azulita laugh even if she didn’t want to.

— they balance each other. where azulita burns hot, syd’s like cool water. not passive, just steady. patient. grounded. and sometimes, sometimes, azulita leans into her without thinking—shoulder brushes, quick glances, soft you good?’s that don’t sound like she’s asking permission. and syd just gets it.

— but syd has gotten mad in azulita’s defense. quiet fury, not loud. like the time someone made a slick comment about her attitude at training and syd clapped back with “maybe if you played like her, you’d be allowed to have an attitude too.” or when azulita’s old trauma came up in a team setting and syd’s whole vibe shifted, jaw tight, voice low as she asked “who thought it was okay to bring that up?”

— she doesn’t fight often. but when she does? it’s always for azulita. and azulita never says thank you. but she always finds a way to sit next to her after and bump their shoulders. that’s thanks enough.

— now. frido and azulita have the funniest dynamic because frido’s that cool aunt energy, like “you wanna sneak off early and grab dessert?” and azulita, who never asks for things directly, loves being around someone who makes her feel like she doesn’t have to. frido always makes space for her. no pressure, no deep talks unless azulita starts them. just “you good?” with a raised brow and that chill presence that never makes her feel small.

— they watch dumb movies together and gossip about footballers they’ve played against. frido teases her constantly and calls her “my grumpy little lion” in swedish just to see azulita glare and blush. but if azulita ever needs to blow off steam, frido’s already grabbing two bikes and saying “let’s ride until you can breathe again.”

— vicky and azulita are siblings. no other way to describe it. vicky’s the only one who can poke fun at azulita’s dramatics without catching hands. she knows exactly which buttons to push, but always with love. they bicker constantly, who stole whose socks, who ate the last snack, who left the playlist on shuffle, but it’s all surface. underneath, there’s this deep bond forged from growing up in the same chaos. from knowing each other before the rest of the world did.

— vicky’s the one who checks azulita’s hair before events. the one who drags her out of bed when she’s wallowing. the one who says “you’re not as broken as you think” when azulita spirals and can’t see herself clearly. azulita rolls her eyes, calls her cheesy, but her voice always softens after. she’ll never say it, but she’d be lost without vicky.

— so yeah. frido’s the aunt. vicky’s the sibling. syd’s the anchor. azulita’s their storm. and they’d all go to war for her, even if she pretends she doesn’t need them to.

[toxicanonymity]

Parole.

3k words, joel miller x f!reader

Jojo playlist, joel master list, @toxicfics for notifs

SUMMARY: PWP. Phone sex and just-got-out-of-jail sex.  

WARNINGS: I8+, dirty talk, jacking off, groping while driving, oral F receiving, Unsafe P in V intercourse, semi-public (bathroom). Reader can sit on a sink.

A/N: cellmate's nephew!Joel, part 3 of 3 (just 8k total) , follows Jailbird and Collect Calls but you just need to know his aunt Mabel is your cellmate. This is the last of Jailbird for the foreseeable future. It’s been a fun diversion.  This is not the last of Jojo.

—---

All goes well at your parole hearing. After you get your 72 Hour release notice, you call Joel. 

He answers the phone, "You're gettin' out," and you can hear his smile. 

"How did you–did Mabel tell you?"

"Had a feeling.  So what, 3 days now?" He opens and squirts the lube. 

"9pm Monday."

"You just made my dick so hard, baby."

"Jojo. . ."

"Hmm?"

"God, sorry - Joel"

"Call me whatever ya want, jailbird. Mm. Call me joel, call me jojo--mm, call me call me any time baby”

“Can’t wait to be on the other side of that glass.” 

"And I'm gonna pop that post-penny cherry" (post-penitentiary) 

“Shhh”

"What they're gonna un-parole ya 'cause there’s a hard dick waitin’ for ya?"

“Well, I like the sound of that,”  you purr. 

“Oh we’re gonna get nasty, baby,” he breathes. 

“Mmm”

“You wear thongs, g-strings, whatcha wear?” His fist slurps up and down his cock. 

“Thongs,” you tell him. “Boy shorts if I wanna be comfy.” 

“Damn. . . that ass in boy shorts?  Whew.” 

“How ‘bout you?”

“Boxer briefs.” 

“Mm, shoulda known. Those tight-ass pants”

“Yeah, ya like’em?”

“Like how ya wear’em”

“How’s that”

“Packing somethin’ fat and juicy for me.”

He moans. “Fuck yeah i am, just for you baby”

“Just for me?”

“‘S’all for you, baby. How ya want it first?”

“Honey, I just want it.”

“Can i come inside ya?”

“Mmmm, yeah. . .” 

“Fuck, i’m gonna pump you full,” his voice tells you he’s already close. 

“You better.” 

“Fuck yeah, baby.” His hand is moving faster. “Ohhh, fuck” He shudders and groans long and drawn out as he comes.

“Started without me didn’t ya” 

“Wouldn’t do that,” he says in a transparently false tone. 

“Hope ya can last longer than that,” you tease.

“Fuck you,” he laughs. “Shit, maybe I can’t. ‘S’what ya do to me, baby.” 

“Then we’ll just have to do it again.”

“Oh I’m grocery shoppin’ like it’s the apocalypse. Won’t have to leave the house for a week.”

—------

Mabel gives you one last poke-and-stick tattoo, a heart on your other hand, mirroring the location of your "clover." The last thing she tells you is, “He’s snipped, ya know. I took care of him after he did it. ” 

“Nice.”

“Yeah, he knows he's not dad material," she explains, then lightens the mood with, "he's daddy, not dad," and a wink. 

You're gonna miss her. But if things go well with Joel, you’ll see her again in a few months. 

—----

Walking down the ramp from the tower toward the jail lobby, you can taste the freedom and almost forget what you’re wearing – booty skirt, platform heels, mesh crop top, fishnets. 

His posture is what catches your eye first. Feet spread, arms crossed. Your eyes fall to his bulge then pan up to a white t-shirt struggling to contain the tattooed arms crossed in front of him. Gold chain, Adam's Apple. As his face comes into focus, he tilts his head back and squints, pursing his lips in a pained expression as he looks at you. His expression is enough to remind you what you’re wearing. By the time you reach him, he’s biting his lip, shaking his head at you with his eyes smiling. 

He opens his arms and wraps around you for a full-body hug. He smells like fresh cologne, and he feels safe and comfortable.  He feels like – ohhh, yeah, he’s already getting hard. You’re holding a plastic bag of your belongings—phone and keys—against his back. 

“God damn,” he whispers into your hair and his pelvis subtly presses his growing arousal into you. He murmurs, “Mmm, let’s get the fuck outta here.” 

He grabs your hand and your shoes click as you walk through the sliding doors to the parking lot. As soon as the doors slide closed behind you, he drops your hand and grabs your ass.  His hand spans much more of your asscheek than you're used to. The beauty of the sky at dusk overwhelms you, even with the lights from the jail. 

“Let’s make it to the car,” you laugh. 

He puffs out his cheeks with an exhale and gets his keys out of his pocket with his free hand.  Then he points to a big truck and unlocks it. 

He opens the truck door for you and his hand on your ass helps you up into the seat. Oh the simple joy of getting in a vehicle. You start to grab the seatbelt, and he tells you, “nah, hold on a sec.” When he gets in the driver’s seat he slams up the center console, slides over and you turn to face him as he reaches you.  

He grabs the back of your head and pulls your face into his. His tongue parts your lips and his mouth is minty.  He sucks hard and gently chews your lips as he grabs your far thigh and puts it over his lap.  Then he grabs you by both hips and pulls you all the way into his lap with your help so you’re straddling him. When your crotch meets the warm steel rod in his pants, you whimper and he sighs vocally. Then your mouths connect again. You’ve been dying of thirst and he’s a tall glass of water; you just can’t get enough. 

His hands run down your fishnet thighs as you grind on him and make out. He playfully plucks one of the diamonds and murmurs in such a deep voice, “Thought ya weren’t wearin’ these, hmm?” Then he attacks your neck with his mouth, and you sigh.  Out of the corner of your eye, you see a Corrections Officer headed your way. 

“Shit,” you say, “We should go.” 

He groans. 

“They're comin’, we gotta go,” you repeat and pry yourself off of him. 

He takes a deep breath and his hips lift out of the seat as he adjusts himself, then scoots back over to the driver’s seat and buckles his seatbelt. You start to go back to the passenger seat and buckle yours, but he says, “get back over here.”  He hands you the middle seatbelt. 

—----

You tease, “we 'bout to peel outta here?”

"Buckle up, baby.” 

He puts his hand behind you to back up. A whiff of his sweat under the cologne makes you want him even worse. 

You awkwardly try to keep your hands to yourself. He’s the one driving, so you’ll let him initiate any distraction. "Where we headed?"

"How ‘bout we get ya some real food, ya hungry?”

“Yeah, I could eat.” 

He gives a low whistle and says, “so could I, baby. can’t wait to taste ya." He looks at your legs. “Fuck.”  He puts his hand on your thigh, a ring pressing into your skin. “Mmm.” His voice is so deep. “Been savin’ this just for me, huh?'' His wrist pushes your skirt out of the way as his hand slides toward your crotch.  He finds your clit with ease, even while driving. He clearly knows what he’s doing and he could get you off like this in a minute or two, but he needs his hand back to make some turns. 

You put your hand on his meaty thigh and ask “can I. . .”

“*can* you? Fuck yeah you can” He lifts his elbow, welcoming your hand to his lap. 

You grab the bulge in his jeans and get a zap of need in your core. You slowly press your hand into his warm, hard package and feel the outline of his thick cock.  You’re aching for him. You’re about to ask him to pull over when he puts on the blinker and see you’ve arrived at Waffle House. 

“Here good?” He says as he pulls into a parking space.  

“Hell yeah,” you answer. 

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Cause if ya don’t like WaHo, we ain’t gonna work anyway.” You both unbuckle your seatbelts.

"Oh, here," you take your hand back as he reaches back behind the passenger seat, and your eyes glue to his huge bulge. He hands you a leather jacket, and says, “Just if ya want it.”  It’s a little warm for it, but it’s a nice thought if you wanted to cover up. At WaHo, you don’t really care. That’s the magic of it. He reaches back behind the seat again and you glance at his earring. He returns with a target bag.

You peek into the bag. There’s a casual tank dress, flip flops, and . ..boy shorts. Your heart flutters that his dirty question led to such a wholesome gesture. 

“You bought me clothes?”

“Yeah, coulda brought some’a Mabel’s but–”

“That could get weird”

“Yeah.” 

—---

You walk in front of Jojo into the breezeway, then into the restaurant. No one bats an eye at how you’re dressed.  You hold up the bag of clothes and ask, “Mind if I change ‘fore we eat?” A waitress behind the counter leans to the side to look around you, checks Jojo out and says, “get it, girl.” 

“That’s what i’m talkin’ bout,” Jojo murmurs to you and gives her a wink. 

Both the individual bathrooms are occupied. Joel stands with his back against the wall facing the bathrooms, so y’all are waiting out of view of the grill. You’re facing him.  He grabs your ass with both hands, pulling you into him, massive erection straining his pants, yearning to get to you. His cock digs into your front.  You kiss him and he kneads your butt cheeks as your mouths consume each other. He moans quietly into your mouth.  His hard cock twitches against you. 

He breaks the kiss and breathes heavily against your ear, then whispers “feel like i’m gonna die.” 

A toilet flushes. The bathroom smells faintly of cleaning supplies, and it doesn’t look dirty. The illusion of cleanliness is enough to not think about it. 

You wanna be right on top of him, but as he locks the door, you find yourself slowly taking a step backwards, watching him in anticipation, almost like you’re daring him to come after you and show you what he’s got.  He looks at you darkly and prowls toward you, unbuckling his belt, lips parted, eyes dark like a stalking animal.  You freeze. He unbuttons his jeans and walks until his hardness bumps into your thigh. 

Then, at a faster pace, he walks you almost all the way to the sink, then grabs your butt to stop you.  He hikes up your skirt so it's all the way over your ass. He grabs your ass with one hand and pulls you into him again. The strength of his erection through his exposed boxer briefs gives you another shock of arousal on top of your already desperate need. He pulls back his hips enough for his free hand to engulf your crotch.  His thick middle finger presses down on the (very) damp spot in your leggings. 

"Soaked for me, aren't ya?" The hand on your ass slides down and curls between your legs. His warm finger slips into one of the fishnet holes. 

He uses both hands, one from the front and one from the back, to rip open the fishnets. “Fuck yeah,” he growls. The hand from the back returns to your asscheek, while the other hand remains between your legs.  The side of his index finger meets your dripping seam. “Mmmmmm,” he slides his hand up and down for just a couple of seconds, then looks at the sink. “Think ya can sit up here?”

“mm. yeah, if you–”

He helps you onto the edge of the sink. You hold onto the sides and he immediately squats down with his head between your legs. 

“Just fuck me,” you say, dying to have him inside you. Your walls are twitching as though your cunt is making a gimme gimme motion like a fist.

“i gotta taste ya," he mumbles as he spreads your thighs.  “Sorry, just a sec.” He further rips the fishnets, exposing you to the cool air then sighs, “fuck,” as he reaches behind you to hold your ass. He whispers “just real quick,” his hot breath on your mound, before he plants his mouth on your cunt. 

He licks at your entrance.  “Mmmm,” he tongues and sucks your clit, then takes one hand off your ass to palm his boxer briefs. 

You fist his hair, sighing, “Ohh God, I need that cock, baby. We got time for this later.” You’re physically aching to be filled. 

He kisses your clit goodbye, then whispers, "god damn."  He puts both hands on your thighs as he stands up.  When he’s standing, he yanks his boxer briefs down and his naked cock bobs heavily, making you nearly drool. He’s shaved. It’s thick. Length-wise you might be able to take it. The girth will be a stretch. 

He curls his fingers under your mesh crop top and you raise your arms as he discards it. “Fuck it, you’re changin’, right?” He tugs at your bra, and you take it off. 

“Oh, fuck me,” he takes in the sight of your tits and can’t resist sucking a nipple into his mouth while palming the other. 

You grab his cock. “Are you gonna put this in me tonight or nah?”

“God damn, you need it don’t ya?” He wraps an arm around you  and you put your arms around his neck. He nudges you by the ass toward the edge.

“fuck just give it to me.” 

He runs his swollen, mauve tip through your slick, then notches it at your entrance and plunges into you with a groan. You gasp as his girth spreads you apart. You can’t remember the last time you felt a stretch like this. But he pushes it right in. You’re so turned on, it works. You watch his cock disappear into you. You glance up at him to see his mouth hanging open with a sigh of relief as his tip nudges your cervix and makes you whole. He sucks in a deep breath as he retreats, then says “FUCK, that’s a nice cunt.” 

His fingers dig into the plush flesh of your ass and he begins to fuck you. You pull up his shirt and it’s so tight that it stays where you leave it. He has a slutty little hip tattoo that says yeah. His lips latch onto yours as he buries his length in you again and again.  It’s all sucking and biting and hot, humid breath as you moan against each other’s cheeks before your tongues are in each other’s mouths again. The bottom half of your face gets slobbery.  He fucks you like he means it, grunting and moaning, “oh yeah.” Your bodies are dewy where your skin meets. 

You wrap your legs around him. Your pelvis grinds against his and your orgasm is building. You tell him,  “Don’t hold back”

“You want me to last?” He asks as he pumps in and out of you. 

“In here?--ohhhh–time for that later” 

“Oh, you already close, ain’t ya?” he speeds up and his chain bounces with the power of his motions. “Fuck yeah, baby, c’mere, c’,mon” His cock pistons into you. It’s even better than you imagined so many times in your pathetic excuse for a bed. Oh shit, will you really sleep together? The thought of it melts you. The thought of a real bed alone melts you, but with him, with this cock inches away, god this cock, it feels so, it’s so—A primal grunt comes from his chest. His heavy breathing and grinding against your clit have you on the edge ready to tip. 

You whimper, “baby,” pinching your eyes shut. 

He grips your ass harder and grinds his shaved pubic bone into you as he fucks you smooth and fast. He fucks like a porn star. “C’mon, jailbird.” 

He buries his length in you even faster, then pleasure seizes your whole body and you come on his fat cock. 

“Ohhhhh yeah, fuck yeah,” he breathes. 

He thrusts into you a few more times, “fuck, baby,” then bottoms out and erupts. He sighs a long sigh as his warm release coats your insides. 

“Mmmm,” you savor the pulse of his cock and you twitch with aftershocks. “Oh, god.” He hugs you and you rest your head on his chest while you both catch your breath. His chain feels massive on on your cheek.

Someone finally knocks on the door.  He pulls out and helps you down off the sink. 

“Someone in here,” he tells them. He pulls up his pants, then leans against the tile of the bathroom wall as he zips them up and fastens his belt while you change. 

You thank him again for the clothes as you look in the mirror and turn around. 

“Look good on ya. Guess I did alright.” 

His face is flushed pink and his hair is a little messed up.  He seems to notice you looking at his face and he pushes himself off the wall to look in the mirror. He rakes his hand through his hair, then scratches one side of his beard, turning away from the mirror. 

–

You sit down for a late dinner. Neither of you look at the menu. Jojo orders cherry coke and a texas cheesesteak with double hashbrowns covered, smothered, and chunked. You order your favorite meal and he compliments it. Your eyes are on his forearms and tattoos. As he brings the sandwich to his mouth. God damn, how’d this fine ass man practically fall in  your lap? You feel like  you owe Mabel big time. 

You ask, “You really go grocery shoppin’?”

He raises his eyebrows and smiles with his mouth full, nodding.  “Mmm-hmm.” After he finishes chewing he washes it down with a sip of cherry coke, then adds, “but you know what i really want.” He looks at you darkly. “So tell me it’s all you can eat, baby.” 

“Just for you, Jojo. . .”

-----

yeah he wants to be covered and smothered in that.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. I love your passion and your comments and reblogs really motivate me. <333

----

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All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

[crushmeeren]

crush. i’m here to talk about our boyfriend for your 5K EVENT RAHHHHHHH!!!!!! FIVE KAY!!!!!!!CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!! you deserve it so bad baby

i have a whole playlist for hyoma BUT. i love woww by magdalena bay. i think the sass of it fits him so swell (same with gtfo by doechii and speed by kali). feel free to poke around the playlist and choose what sparkles with you as inspo. i have no further ideas other than i would luv for you to have fun with a lil drabble for our man <3

you’re the sweetest! so much love for you ya gem

reid you’re gonna make me cry!!! <3 i love you to the moon bestie and i’m beyond happy to write for hyo. c:

first of all, the playlist is iconic?? and so accurate dear god. i heard gtfo and IMMEDIATELY felt the pull to pick something from that song lmao.

second — are all three of us dating each other or are we both dating hyo? OR!! are we both dating hyo and you and i are slowly working our way towards it being a throuple? penny for your thoughts.

also, because i simply cannot ever make anything short, this is longer than i meant for it to be. please enjoy. c:

⋆ ⋆˙⟡ you wanna be me? you can’t be me

| gtfo — doechii, fetish |

Hyoma is nothing, if not confident.

He’s self assured, unfazed, arrogant if he’s being honest, intelligent. The list could go on. And, okay, sometimes he can be a bitch, he admits it. He just thinks he deserves to act this way, especially with a hot wife like you.

His better than you attitude spills out without a second thought.

Coming to Bachira’s soccer match had been your idea. He’d invited you both, and before Hyoma knew it you’d agreed to go. Convincing him by pleading “C’mon Hyo! Don’t be a stick in the mud. It’ll be fun, and I can get those snacks we like at the concession stand!”

It’s not like he could say no to your sweet face.

Hyoma leans his back against a concrete pillar nearby, waiting for you to return from the concession, and stares at his nails while ignoring the annoying bustle of the crowd. He’d been there for about five minutes, an eternity truly, when his ears perk up. There’s two guys standing a few feet behind him, wolf whistling to themselves and talking about a hot girl waiting in line.

Hyoma grins, smug as ever, when he hears them describe your outfit. He schools his expression and shifts his head, making eye contact with the blonde one.

“Are you talking about the girl that’s second to the front?”

Blondie eyes him from head to toe before piping up. “Yeah man. She’s stupid hot.”

Hyoma hums. “Yes, she really is.”

“I bet that outfit would look even better on my bedroom floor!” The dark haired guy jokes, obviously feeling comfortable enough to say something vulgar. Mistake.

Hyoma’s eyebrow twitches. “She’s my —,”

“Hyo!” You cut him off, excited beyond belief. “Look, they had those gummies I like!” You practically bounce on the balls of your feet when you get to him.

Hyoma’s head shifts towards you, face softening into something tender and warm. “I’m glad baby,” he says, bending to press a kiss to your temple, which makes you giggle. “Will you wait for me at our seats? I need to get a drink.”

You nod with enthusiasm, and once you’ve gotten out of eyesight and earshot, Hyoma notices the two men had gone silent during the exchange.

He turns his entire body to face them, wearing the smuggest, most arrogant smirk he’s ever put on. He’s proud of it. “The girl you were using your filthy fucking mouths to speak of is my wife.” They stare with wide eyes, too shocked to speak. So Hyoma continues. “Her clothes do look amazing on my floor, by the way. Too bad for you idiots, you’ll never ever see it.”

“W-we didn’t mean anything by it! We swear!”

Hyoma holds up a hand and they freeze. “I know how badly you want to be me, but you never will be. Sucks to be you.” He gives them a fake pout and then laughs, leaving without another word.

So what if he’s a bitch when it comes to you? It’s his right, after all.

⋆ ⋆˙⟡ 5k event

// i hope this wasn’t too out of character, this is the first time i’ve written for pretty boy hyo.

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141: Mafia AU! But they watch you flop and lose all inhibitions when you’ve had one little too many

(masterlist here!)

For lack of better terms, as Price would like to put it delicately, you’d- more often than not- lose all inhibitions and act “thirsty”

Yes, you heard that right

From all the way on the middle of the room, a mic in hand- ready to karaoke your heart out

“Since when did you learn young’in lingo captaiiiiiinnn!”

The bakery roars in laughter, poking fun at the barely-geezer man and for a moment, he thinks he should shave the beard to avoid being called old for the umpteenth time

The family often have get together once a month now (as proposed by you) and eat and drink their hearts out even through the the day after

So, you take this as a chance to let loose from all the stresses in life— eat and drink as much as your tummy can be filled!

But the best part of this was the karaoke portion you just had to include

This way, you learned their favorite songs and make a playlist customized for them whenever they eat the bakery (they love you and appreciate your effort for this by the way)

Though, in turn, you get to also hear them sing and vice versa

You love singing! (And the family knows all too well as you slide across the bakery floor with a mop in hand, moonwalking all the while as you cleaned)

So you decide to flex it as well with a very competitive karaoke sing-off

And you just knew the perfect song to win over Rudy (he always wins and sometimes Alejandro too)

You could only hope you were drunk enough to perform it and forget about how embarrassing you acted by tomorrow

“Anyways! Here’s the song i pickedd just for yaaallll!”

You were slurring all your words but they knew better (well some more than others like the Tf 141 guys as they go out drinking with you or at your place)

Even if you were as buzzed as you are right now, when it came to singing— you never flop

When that familiar violin sound came on— they (Tf 141) knew they were fucked

well,more like the others were in for an… ✨experience✨

And the fact that you were going to sing that song against Rudy’s “My Way”?

Oh they are just ready and waiting with popcorn on hand

Because you had sang this song before with Soap, and even taught him to act along the song like it was a musical, the guys already knew what to expect

But even they didn’t know they were in for a long haul with you bouncing around and saying the most wild stuff on mic in 4K

Were they your secret inhibitions?

No? Maybe?

As long as you don’t mention it being about Alejandro to Rudy you’ll be good

But alas, your lyrics seems to make Alejandro’z eyes wide and spit choked on

Especially when you get to the more frisky parts and go closer to him, to sing those lyrics and cradle his face as if you were muttering it for him

Yeah, you can’t blame him for how his pants we’re so uncomfortable that he had to keep shifting in his seat

Or the rest as well, with you twirling around and singing the most wildest and lewd lyrics— it was hard to not imagine it with you

Yet, the longer the song went on— the more drinks you got into you by snatching drinks from their hands or tables

That by the time the song right near bloody ended, you’re utterly spent in Price’s (still unimpressed with you from the jab from earlier) lap, head rolling over and giggles that never seemed to stop

After your final belt, he grabs the mic from your hands and replaces it with water

Patting your back all the while to encourage you but this just makes you sleepy

Landing on his chest and just…drooling all over him

He sighs, thinking at how he does so much things for you and you repay him by drooling on his favorite shirt

Though, he doesn’t mind having you in his arms

Your drunken mumbles of love admissions flowing through your lips— and it was only him who gets to hear how deeply you mean them

Drunken words are sober thoughts, right?

Alas, the night ends with you finally winning!

Though… you were properly lights out for the night and the guys promise they’ll treat you to something nice for winning karaoke night (especially Rudy- he has some… questions that need answering.)

And to also nurse your morning self, ‘cause you always had the wildest whiplash in the morning after a good night out of drinking

You were semi-sad you couldn’t see Rudy’s reaction when you won

But also, semi-embarrassed at how everyone kept making jokes about wanting to try that tango with you now

Finally did that one idea of mine about this song- it was sitting in my draft box for days LMAO

Taglist✨

@accidental-obsessionist @sunshineistoofuckingbright

[billybob598]

Teasing (Alessia Russo x Reader)

Just ignore how absolute shit this is. I told everyone I would write this, so I actually had to write it sadly. This was requested by an anon so hopefully this is what you wanted. I'm sorry for how short and terrible it is. Next fic is Sydney Lohmann x f1 reader so hopefully that will be better than this. Again any feedback good or bad is welcomed! So, please enjoy this absolute shitshow this fic is.

Word Count: 979 (Omg this made me sad)

“Y/N? Any chance we could leave this century?” Alessia calls up the stairs. You roll your eyes, continuing to straighten your hair. The sound of feet stomping against the carpet gathers your attention, Alessia wraps her arms around your waist while nuzzling her head into your neck.

“Love, if you don’t move your head I’m going to burn you,” you say gently, trying your best to move the hair straightener away from your girlfriend. All you get in response is her mumbling some incoherent words into your neck. The pout on her face makes your heart melt, but for everyone’s safety, you stand your ground. 

Ten minutes later, the two of you are heading out to the bar Ella and some of your teammates had decided to meet. With the World Cup coming up soon, the Manchester United team was trying to spend as much time as possible together.  It was a fact in your relationship that Alessia was the driver and you were the passenger princess. As she settles into the driver’s seat, you connected your phone to the car and decided on a playlist. For the excruciatingly long five minutes, it takes to get to the bar, you and Lessi are singing your hearts out to Adele. When your girlfriend parks the car, she rushes out over to your side and opens the car door for you.

“Ever the gentlewoman,” you say with a slight tease in your voice. She blushes as you get out. 

“Y/N/N!” A booming voice startles you, but you grin widely as Tooney approaches you happily. The midfielder links your hands and pulls you into the bar, not before you grab a hold of Alessia and drag her with you. The blasting music hits you like a shit ton of bricks. You were not prepared at all for the EDM blasting at full volume. Tooney says something about getting drinks so, you and Lessi search for any teammates that are already there. A few of you guys find a booth while Tooney brings over some shots. You sit close to Lessi while handing her a drink. She smiles gratefully at you before turning her attention back to the story Millie is telling very passionately. For about an hour everyone is talking and laughing, you were even able to get Alessia to dance with you for a few songs. In Alessia's fashion, though, she tripped on both her own feet and yours multiple times. After some of the team had calmed down, the five or six of you that were sitting in the booth fell into an easy-flowing conversation. Soon, the conversation turned toward the impending World Cup. Of course, you were on the USWNT and Alessia had made the Lionesses squad. Both of you had avoided talking about the fact that you would be away from each other for around two months and that there was a chance that you’d play against each other in the final. 

“So lovebirds, are you excited?” Mary Earps asks jokingly. Alessia laughs lightly.

“I’m ready, I don’t know about the US though. They better be ready to get their ass whooped,” she mocks, watching you out of the corner of her eye. To your credit, your reaction is controlled and measured, to the naked eye you don’t have a reaction, but Alessia knows you too well. The way your jaw clenches slightly and your hands closing into fists just the tiniest bit are all telltale signs that you’re pissed. Even if she didn’t know, you turn to look at her with raised eyebrows, cementing the idea that you were not pleased with your girlfriend. For the next few hours, all of the English girls continue to poke fun at your American ass. Again, to your credit, you hold your tongue and take the jibes with ease. It’s only when Katie Zelem makes a particularly harsh joke about the England v USA game back in October, that you snap.

“Man, you guys are talking a big game for a team that got knocked out by us in the last World Cup,” you retort. Your words catch everyone off guard. They all look at each other before bursting into laughter. The look of confusion on your face only making them laugh harder. 

“Damn Lessi, your girl’s got some bite,” Maya Le Tissier laughs out. Alessia smiles at you, but the smile soon turns into a smirk as she thinks of a comeback.

“Your talking a big game for a team that lost three games in a row,” the English player teases. As you narrow your eyes, you realize that neither of you are going to let the other off the hook with talking trash about their national team. 

“Mhmm I am, maybe ‘cause we’re 4-time world champs and you guys haven’t even made it to a final yet,” you say cheekily. While you both know it’s just fun and games, you’re determined to not let the other get the upper hand. For the rest of the night, your teammates watch in amusement at how the two of you continue to bicker. The banter being thrown around some might consider as being over the top mean, but to the two of you it’s perfectly acceptable. 

That night, as you settle into bed alongside of Alessia, you sigh loudly.

“You’re going to be sighing that loudly when we destroy you in the finals,” she snickers. You sigh again, this time in annoyance. 

“Seriously Less? It’s much too late for this and I’m much too tired to do this again,” you grumble, dragging one of your girlfriends arms across your waist. The blonde chuckles quietly and gently puts her face into the crook of your neck, kissing it softly. 

“I’m sorry, love. You just go to sleep now, and don’t forget…the USA is going down in the World Cup.”