#and over the phone he was like well you can change it......or if youre not comfortable changing it......you can call triple a

[pacofprunes]

DARK / TOXIC SQUID GAME REACTIONS TO YOU TRYING TO LEAVE THEM

CONTAINS — namgyu x reader, thanos x reader, myungi x reader, inho x reader, sangwoo x reader, saebyeok x reader

WARNINGS — toxic relationship, domestic violence, baby trapping, manipulation, guilt trip, prepare yourself for namgyus that’s the worst probably, mentions of suicide (thanos)

masterlist

THANOS / PLAYER 230 / CHOI-SUBONG — manipulates you / would let you leave and crawl back to him

doesn’t take it well at all. he’s going to laugh and think you’re joking, but after realizing that you’re not, he’s quickly going to scream at you. telling you that you’ll never find anybody better than him.

“do you really think anybody else will want you? if you leave me you’ll never find anyone else. you’ll never find anybody better!”

he’ll start breaking shit. punching walls, shit, he’ll even break your own phone if it’s in arms reach. if you still insist on leaving he’ll say he’s gonna overdose. he tells you that he’ll kill himself if you step out that door while pressing a blade up to his arm. if all else fails, he’ll totally act like he didn’t just beg you to stay and scream at you to go then and not to come running back.

“fine bitch, go ahead and leave! but don’t come running back to me for nothin’.”

in reality, he’s definitely stalking your socials, making fake accounts you haven’t blocked him on, stalking your friends accounts to see other photos of you, visiting the club every night (not that he didn’t already do that) to try to see if you’d show up. after about a month or so of doing this and going out and fucking other girls to get over you, he can’t do it anymore. he’ll send you some fake heartfelt text that he probably used ai to make and call you while making himself sound like he was crying, trying to make you feel bad and convince you that he’s changed and that he can be a better boyfriend. if you fall for it, you’re doomed. the relationships only going to be a million times worse than before. instead of knocking glass over and breaking shit, he might slap you. in public, he might grip your wrist ten times tighter, scared you’ll run away. when he finally lets go, his fingers will be embedded in your skin. he might even guilt trip you into getting a matching tattoo with him. “if you really loved me and forgave me then you would.”

if you really don’t go back to him though, no matter how many times you block him, you’ll get a new video sent to your phone from some unknown number of him fucking a new girl. he sent you the videos in hopes of making you jealous or something. he’s not going to stop for a long time. if you don’t go back to him, he’s going to harass you for the rest of your life. and if you do go back? you’re in for a world of hell.

NAMGYU / PLAYER 124 — would threaten you, would actually harm you

“you’re one funny bitch. you know how much shit i got on you?”

he finds it admirable, honestly. but still, fucking hilarious, that you, you, think you can leave him. what? when did you grow some balls? yeah, no. you just hurt his ego and that’s about the stupidest thing you could ever do to him. he’s not very empty with his threats. if he says he’s leaving? he’ll leave. (for like a week…) if he says he’s gonna hit you? you’re gonna be bruised for a while. if he says he’s gonna kill you? well, you haven’t gotten to that point yet. but keep this up and you sure will.

he keeps every nude and threatens to release it. sure you’re his and all, but that doesn’t stop him. so what if some other guy sees your body? he could care less. now if another guy touches you? let’s not think about what would happen. threatens to send the pictures to your family and threatens to send every sex tape of you two that he filmed behind your back.

“what the fuck is wrong with you namgyu? when the fuck did you film that?”

don’t raise your voice at him. once he hits you and you fall to the ground, he’ll keep kicking at you with his foot over and over until he thinks you’ve had enough. don’t speak up to him, don’t speak against him, and don’t piss him off. just sit there and be pretty, okay? he’s going to be bolder now. next time you two have sex he’s just going to shove the camera in your face. he’s going to manipulate and force you to take nudes for him since you don’t want to anymore after he threatened to send them out. sometimes he’ll force you to strip and then he’ll just take the pictures himself. all in all, sometimes he might just say no and leave it at that. but if you keep pushing, he’s going to threaten you. and if you still keep pushing, he’s going to go through with those threats. you really are just some whore to him, don’t think he’s above killing you.

MYUNGI / PLAYER 333 / MG COIN ★— would let you leave and crawl back to him (except he’s the one who crawls back), babytrapping

“really? fine, if that’s what you want then leave.”

he acts like he doesn’t care because he thinks his annoyance will make you turn right back around to him. he acts like he doesn’t care because he’s trying to not get so bent out of shape about it and move on quickly. but when he hears your footsteps disappear and the door shut, he immediately balls up his fists. you seriously left? he didn’t expect that, but whatever. he doesn’t need you.

he tries to move on but after barely even a week, he can’t do it. he contacts you, but when you block him, he makes more and more numbers. he thought you’d be running back to him, not the opposite. he sends you pictures of you two together in hopes you’d change your mind, but when you just keep blocking him, he’s knocking on your door demanding you open it up. he tries being nice but when you don’t open it, he starts banging on the door. really? you’d been together for months and you’d already gotten over him? no. no no no. you don’t get to just move on! what the hells wrong with you? when you still don’t open the door, he leaves and goes back to his place and sits on his bed while he ponders his next move. he decides for now just to stalk your page and harass you from more and more numbers. he’s not going to stop until you at least respond. oh, you’re gonna get a restraining order? you’re funny. you think that’ll stop him? don’t go back to him. if for some reason you give in, the next time that you two have sex, he’s going to make sure that you can’t leave. he’s sure that you’ll look so pretty with your stomach swelled up.

INHO / YOUNGIL / PLAYER 001 — straight up says no / baby traps / makes you feel like you’re going crazy

straight up, no. you want to leave? no. he doesn’t even care for an explanation on why, you’re not leaving. completely ignores your words and changes the whole topic. everytime you try to say you’re leaving he just completely overrides you with something different.

“inho, i’m serious. i’m leaving you! i’m packing my shit right now and i’m not coming back, i swear to you.”

“what did you want for dinner again? i have to go back out to get some groceries so there’s not too much…”

maybe it’s on purpose, maybe it’s not. but it makes you feel like you’re losing your mind. then he will deliberately go out of his way to make it seem like you’re crazy.

“i’m leaving because of what you’ve been doing behind my back, inho. it’s fucked up and you’re insane.”

“baby, you could follow me around tomorrow. i’ve got no idea what you mean.”

and he says it all with that stupid small polite smile that he gives everyone. you just want to strangle him. if somehow he can get you in bed with him after you just got so pissed, he’ll be more passionate than ever. he’ll treat you nice, focus on your pleasure before his and then quickly when you’re blissed out, he’ll pull out of you, slip the condom off and slide right back in. you don’t notice at all, but he makes sure to tell you like the cocky fuck he is. but he does it while he’s thrusting and when you can tell he’s about to cum. poor you, it’s too late to stop him :(.

“i’m about to fuck a baby in you — agh, i — i took the condom off. gonna have a beautiful—fuck—fucking baby with you.”

how could you leave now? do you have enough money to take care of a child without him? and would you really deprive your child of their father? you’ll get an abortion? he’ll find a way to keep you locked up in your house. you’re still going to leave? he’s going to guilt trip you to the max. and if that still fails? once again, he’s just going to find a way to keep you locked up in your house. he’ll figure it out as you go on, but for now, have your happy little family with him.

KANG SAE-BYEOK — straight up says no

she’s not going to entertain you at all. she might not even say no, opting to just stay silent instead. if you get in her face about it because she’s ignoring you, she’s just going to push you away. if you keep nagging her about it, she’s going to slap you. if you decide not to drop it, she’ll drag you by your hair and lock you in a room. are you stupid? don’t start this shit first thing in the morning.

“saebyeok, this isn’t working. we should go our separate ways.”

“no. did you hit your head or something?”

you should just drop it and move on with your day. nothing you say is going to convince her and if you piss her off too much, like said before, she’s just going to lock you away until you stop sounding ‘crazy’. she’s very cold, but she’s generally pretty nice to you still though. she’s a good girlfriend to you, just a little possessive, but it’s never gotten out of control. you just didn’t think the relationship was working and that it just wasn’t the right time. all in all, if you don’t push to much, you won’t see the shitty side of her that she never shows you. however, if you keep pushing the idea, she’s going to give you a real reason to break up with her.

SANGWOO — would let you leave and crawl back to him

“you want to break up? fine.”

it leaves you shocked at the sound of him not caring. it was as simple as that. you want to break up? bye then bitch! it hurt. it almost made you want to change your mind and say never mind and just stay with him, and that’s exactly what he wanted. that’s exactly why he said it like that. but that didn’t work and you just walked out the door. that’s fine though, you’d come back to him, he knows it.

he makes sure to post old photos of you two on his Instagram. not ones with your face in it, duh, but he posts the photos that you took of him where you’re behind the camera or ones where your arm or your hand is slightly showing. he knows you still stalk his socials. he’s posting these knowing that it’s going to hurt your little heart and make you crawl right back. he leaves every photo of you two up on every platform, not deleting a single thing. for a little while, he even keeps his pfp the same. you two holding hands. whenever he posts something, he always makes sure to put something in the caption that he knows you love. you liked tulips? he’ll put a tulip emoji in the caption. you loved cats? he’ll put a cat emoji in his bio. all these subtle things where you won’t know he’s doing it on purpose, but it’ll be so much of a coincidence that you’ll think this is a sign to run back to him.

he’ll tell his friends to ask about him to you whenever they talk with you.

“how are you and sangwoo doing?”

“oh he talks about you all the time.”

he tells them to act like they don’t know that the two of you have broken up. he makes sure to get in your head and eventually? you’ll come running back. if for some reason you don’t, he might have to pull some strings. spread some rumors about you so that your friends want nothing to do with you and so all that you have to run to for comfort is him.

[treatbuckywkisses]

The yearning and tension are so well written:( this made my tummy hurt in the best way😭😭 all mixed in with a very enticing side story this was so incredible it felt like I was really there in the room !!!! 

     Your stomach twisted at the words, the culpability of your actions threatening to eat away at it. Even after everything you said, even after running away from him and deserting him at the fair, he still only wanted to know you were safe. There were so many things you wanted to say. Nothing, however, was a good enough response in your mind. There was nothing you could say that wouldn’t leave a door open for more. No matter what you told him it would either crush his heart or give him hope.      You didn’t dare do either. :( when we start with the angst it really gets me😭 the last part of this is SO good 

     Natasha sighed, her lips in a tight line,” Y/n, you’re joking right? You two have already been something more to each other for a long time now. Please, none of us are blind to how you two favor each other over the rest of us.” You took a second to let her words sink in. idiots in love 💕 I'm a SUCKER 

     But in this case, it was okay, because at least in this case you were the bad guy. You were the heartbreaker and everyone can hate you. No one has to pick sides because you made it easy for them to choose Bucky, and you were okay with that.  baby:( this paragraph punched me in the gut so hard

     Bucky was one of those people. When your eyes locked as you looked out into the sea of the trial audience he sent you a small smile and gave you an encouraging nod. That was all you needed to knock your closing statement out of the park. UGH WHEN IS THE LOVE COMING I'M SICK THEY ARE SO IDIOTS IN LOVE😭😭

     “You’re scared of things changing, but can't you see they already did?” iconic nat always so smart

     There was a slight shifting sound on the other side of the door before he spoke, “Look, these past few weeks I tried really hard to push my feelings away, but I was only getting more frustrated with myself. In pushing my feelings away, I pushed you away and I don’t want that. I miss you,” his voice broke toward the end and he paused before continuing, “I want you—no, I need you to be a part of my life even if it's just as friends. Y/n, don't think for one second I regret taking you on that date because I don’t, but I can’t keep going on acting like we don’t know each other anymore.” shutup im crying:( this is sooooo precious:(((((( my heart is HURTING for him

     You were in love with Detective James Buchanan Barnes. GOOD YES FINALLY😭😭😭😭 IT'S LIKE I CAN BREATHE AGAIN

      The cookies were to sweeten up your apology, which was a long thought-out one you wrote in the notes app on your phone before going to bed. It could honestly rival any speeches you had ever given in court. so relatable (I live in my notes app) 

     The apologies, the loneliness, the anger, the sadness, the frustration, and everything in between melted away leaving only the love that was blossoming between you two behind. I love angst with a happy ending ( this made me physically ill and if I didn't read love soon I would DIE ) this is so cute I love them: ( even though it hurt

love them love you🫶🏻

Conflict of Interest - II

Pairing: Detective!Bucky Barnes x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: After deserting Bucky at the fair, you are left dealing with the consequences. This becomes difficult as you are all assigned to a new case. 

Word Count: 8.5k

Warning(s): crime show level of violence / homicide investigation details / drinking / angst / fluff / mentions of a car accident and injuries, but no major details / slight cursing / anxiety / overthinking / insecurities / lots of back and forth / misunderstandings / angst with a happy ending 

a/n: It has been a while, but part 2 of this beautiful duo is finally out! ❤️ I hope the length of part 2 can make up for how long it took me to finally finish writing it. It’s angsty with a happy ending, although the happy ending doesn’t come so easily. 👀 Thank you for reading! ❤️ Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! 💕

➵ Prequel Drabble // ➵ Part I 

     You tossed and turned in your bed once more, the sunlight peeking through your blinds, disturbing your sleep. The events of last Saturday weighed heavy on you. So much so, that you hadn’t gone to work in the past two days—today would be the third. You claimed you came down with the flu, putting on the best performance you could when Natasha called you. You were never able to lie to her face, but over the phone wasn’t as hard. Eventually, however, you would have to go back. 

     Eventually, you would have to face him. 

     Bucky called you a few times that night after you deserted him at the fair. The guilt set in almost immediately and you were too ashamed to answer him. You managed to read one message before silencing all of the notifications on your phone.

     Can you at least let me know you got home safely?

Keep reading

[thoughtfulfiction]

While We’re Young

Author’s note: Anon requested, Hope you all enjoy!

“Wait,” you said, your voice breaking the comfortable silence in the car. You twisted one of your hoodie strings around your finger, tightening your grip on it and staring at Justin as if the realization had just crashed into you. “What if they don’t like me?”

Justin glanced over, his brows furrowing before his expression softened. His hand found its place on your thigh, his thumb tracing a lazy pattern through the fabric of your leggings. You were convinced that his soothing touch could change lives. “They’re going to love you,” he said simply, as though it wasn’t even a question. “My mom’s already planning to interrogate you about your favorite foods so she can cook for you. That’s her love language.”

You wanted to believe him, but your mind was already racing. “I mean, what if they think I’m not good enough for you? Or—oh god—what if I say something stupid and embarrass myself? Bad first impressions are impossible to recover from, and if this doesn't go the way we hope…” You trailed off, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten.

At the next stoplight, Justin leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “First of all, you couldn’t embarrass yourself even if you tried. And second, I’ve seen you charm complete strangers. My family doesn’t stand a chance.”

Despite his confidence, your nerves didn’t fully settle. “Thanks, babe,” you murmured, managing a small smile. “But what am I supposed to do with the next thirteen hours? That’s so much time for me to go through worse case scenarios.”

“And to make me listen to your Sad Girl playlist,” Justin switched gears to remind you, his lips twitching into a grin.

“Oh, absolutely.” You laughed, connecting your phone to his car’s Bluetooth, taking a break from your negative self-talk. The opening chords of your favorite melancholic ballad filled the car as you leaned back in your seat.

Justin groaned dramatically but didn’t complain. Instead, he reached over to squeeze your hand, the warmth of his skin a quiet and comforting reassurance that you’d carry with you all the way to Eugene.

The fact that he was bringing you was a big deal already but to know that he’d only really done this a couple times made you feel special. Even if he didn’t really say it, he was falling for you just as much as you were falling for him.

Justin pulled you out of your thoughts when he asked, “are you hungry at all? Because I’m thinking about stopping somewhere. I’m starving.”

“Oh yeah, lunch sounds good. I think I saw a Wingstop sign towards this next exit but I can look it up.”

You opted to sit in the car and eat, giving him a long winded breakdown of what you wanted to do and see in Eugene.

“I want the works. Walk me down memory lane. And definitely take me to Nike. It honestly feels illegal not to go to a Nike store where it all started. I’m sure you’re looking to add to your endless collection anyway.” You note with a laugh. If Nike made suits, he'd definitely be first in line.

He gave you a pointed look. “It was an endless collection until I met and started dating a thief. Do you know how many of my sweatshirts I found in your closet this morning while helping you pack? I was looking for the purple one for weeks.”

You laughed so hard you nearly choked on your fries, swapping spots with him after lunch so he could take a break from driving. “Well I’m sorry! It’s not my fault your clothes are so big and they smell like you. Anytime you’re gone I just throw one on and it’s like you’re always with me.”

“Nice save…Catwoman.”

You scoff. “I prefer Robin Hood, actually. Take from the rich and give to the poor. You’re rich, so I take from you and...give to me. The poor.”

“That would work better if I didn’t get most of that stuff for free, but that is a pretty solid comparison.”

After about 8 hours of you being on aux, you decided to cut him so slack and let him take over on music as you continued to drive, mouthing the lyrics of the latest song that was playing from his phone, quickly getting lost in the rhythm.

He glanced over at you, chuckling softly, nodding his head along to the beat. “I didn’t know you were an 80s rock fan.”

“I didn’t either but you played this a few weeks ago while we were making dinner and I’ve been listening to it ever since. Hate to admit it but this is kind of a banger." You smirked, tilting your head toward him. "You know…I won’t tell anyone if you sing.”

Justin immediately starts shaking his head. “No shot. You’re not doing this to me.”

You turned up the music, singing loudly and deliberately off-key as he sighed deeply, his head dropping back against the headrest. But to your surprise, he joined in during the chorus. Both of you were screaming the lyrics to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard, the car practically vibrating with your energy.

“What happens on the road trip stays on the road trip,” he said, holding out his pinky.

“Deal,” you laughed, locking your pinky with his before refocusing on the road.

A few hours later, Justin motioned for you to take the next exit. “Let’s hop out right here. I want to show you something,” he said cryptically.

The stop turned out to be a scenic lookout, the perfect place to watch the sunset with Mt. Shasta looming majestically in the distance. Justin laced his fingers with yours as the two of you walked toward the edge, stretching your legs after hours in the car.

“This is the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen,” you whispered, mesmerized by the golden and pink hues painting the sky.

Justin turned to you with a warm smile, his eyes full of something that made your stomach flutter. “Yeah… me too.”

You smacked his arm, keeping your gaze on the horizon. “Justin, focus. You’re not even looking at the scenery right now.”

“Sorry, I just got really distracted by the view in front of me. It’s kind of become my favorite.” He stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on the top of your head. His beard—something that came and went whenever he felt like it—tickled your temple, making you smile.

Turning around in his arms, you finally look up at him, the sight still stealing your breath even after all this time. His green eyes were softer in the glow of the setting sun, flickering between your eyes and lips as if he couldn’t decide where to focus.

“You’re my favorite view too,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Wouldn’t mind waking up to you for a while...the rest of my life even.”

The words hung in the air, fragile yet heavy with meaning. His brows lifted slightly, and for a moment, you worried you’d said too much. You hadn't even meant to say that last part out loud and you almost backtracked. But then, his lips curled into a small, hesitant smile, like he was processing the weight of your words.

“Really?” he asked, his voice low and steady. His hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “You—you see us doing this? Getting married, spending our lives together?”

The vulnerability in his tone made your heart ache in the best way. “Yeah, I do. Which is funny because I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with.”

Justin didn’t respond immediately, but his actions spoke louder than any words ever could. His hands slid to frame your face fully, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as if memorizing every detail. He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to—but you didn’t.

When his lips finally met yours, it was soft and deliberate, like he was pouring everything he felt but couldn’t say into that one kiss. It wasn’t hurried or frantic; it was the kind of kiss that made the world fade away until it was just the two of you.

His hand gently cradled your head, holding you in place as if he was afraid you might slip away. You gripped the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer, your heart racing as the kiss deepened. There was something so raw, so unspoken in the way his lips moved against yours—it wasn’t just passion; it was promise. Everything you saw, this bright beautiful future together? He saw it too.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting together. He let out a shaky laugh, his hands still cradling your face. “I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with either,” he admitted, his voice hoarse but filled with a quiet certainty. “Until now.”

The kiss lingered for just a moment longer, both of you savoring the connection, the sound of your heartbeat matching the rhythm of your breath. When Justin finally pulled back, there was a brief moment of silence, a quiet understanding between you. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, giving you a small smile before pulling away completely to open the door of the car.

“I think we’ve stalled long enough,” he said, his voice a bit rougher than usual but still carrying that calm confidence you admired. “Let’s get this over with.”

You both shared a laugh, though it felt a bit nervous on your part as the reality of the day hit. You had no idea what to expect, but you knew this was a big moment for Justin—and for you.

Justin took the keys from your hand, giving you one last reassuring squeeze before getting in the driver's seat. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the jittery nerves you hadn’t even realized you were holding onto.

The final leg of the drive felt like it stretched on forever, even though only a few hours had passed since you were on the mountain. There was something different in the air now. The soft, quiet hum of the road felt more like a countdown to something important.

Every few minutes, Justin would glance over at you, a soft smile curling at his lips as if trying to reassure himself just as much as you. His hand eventually found itself encasing yours, his thumb making lazy circles over your skin. He wasn’t saying much, but his presence, calm and unwavering, was more than enough.

When the exit for Eugene finally appeared, you felt your pulse quicken. This was it. This was the moment.

“Here we go,” Justin murmured, his voice somehow more steady than his movements, as he guided the car off the highway and toward the familiar road leading to his childhood home.

The transition felt sudden, but not uncomfortable. It was a quiet moment of realization that everything you’d shared so far had been leading to this point. He was letting you in. You were meeting the people who mattered most to him, the ones who had shaped him into the man he was today.

As you approached the house, you could see the familiar outline of the porch, a few trees swaying in the breeze, and a small garage you guessed held memories of Justin’s childhood. The house was modest, but there was a sense of warmth and familiarity that seemed to radiate from the front door, even from the car.

Justin slowed as he approached, his hand reaching over to squeeze yours one last time before he parked the car. He looked over at you, eyes soft but serious, like he was searching for your reassurance.

“You ready?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with both excitement and nerves.

You nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah. Ready.”

And with that, the two of you got out of the car and walked toward the front door of his family’s home, the journey that had brought you here feeling like both an ending and a beginning.

The door swung open before you even knocked, and there stood his mom, her arms outstretched.

She was gorgeous, her dark hair a stark contrast to Justin's much lighter features. But she wasn't interested in him at all, making a beeline for you straight away. “Oh, you’re even more beautiful than he said! I’m Holly—come in, come in!"

You barely had time to process her words before you were enveloped in a warm hug, her energy immediately putting you at ease. Over her shoulder, you spot Justin’s dad, Mark, standing on the porch with a reserved smile, and Justin’s brothers are leaning against the doorway, smirking. Justin laughed softly behind you, side stepping you and his mom. "Alright, let her breathe please? It'd be helpful if she made it through this entire night without suffocating," he jokes as his mom pulls away, rolling her eyes as she gives him a hug.

A younger guy who looks almost exactly like a mustached version of your boyfriend greets you next. "Hi, I'm Patrick. Glad Mitch wasn't lying and you are a real person, but pro tip? You're way out of this dork's league," he says with a serious face, nodding his head towards his older brother.

Justin glares at him and doesn't respond, muttering something under his breath that only Patrick catches as he bursts into a fit of laughter. You give Mitch a hug—the familiar face of Justin's older brother a welcome sight. He was a first-year orthopedic surgery resident at UCLA, the perfect situation for him and Justin to live together again. You'd been able to meet him on several occasions which proved useful in easing your nerves about meeting everyone else. “How was the drive? Are you guys staying at the ranch tonight?”

“We are,” you replied with a smile. “I’m really excited to finally see this infamous place.”

Justin’s dad steps forward, his handshake firm but warm, his eyes studying you with quiet curiosity before his face softens into a welcoming smile. “Don’t let these two scare you off. We’re happy to finally meet you. Let's head inside, I think Holly already has the baby pictures set out and ready for you to go through," he smiles, patting Justin on the back as his son shakes his head.

"You're lucky your dad talked me out of making a PowerPoint Presentation because we were seconds away from watching a pre dinner slideshow." Holly says to him with a small smile as everyone steps inside.

Patrick's voice cuts through everyone's laughter, "she's not even kidding, it was about to have music included and everything but dad saved you. I was about to give her some of the best material." He looks over at you, overenunciating for emphasis. "Two words: bowl. Cut."

"See what I have to deal with?" Justin whispers, gently pulling you into his side. Mark and Holly exchange knowing looks but don't say anything.

The house smelled of cinnamon and fresh bread, like warmth itself had settled into the walls. Framed pictures lined the hallways—some faded with time, others vibrant and new—each capturing a story of childhood adventures and hard-won victories. The fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the cozy living room. This wasn’t just a house; it was a sanctuary, a place where love was stitched into the very fabric of its foundation.

On the table in the living room is a stack of photo albums from when Justin was a newborn all the way up until his senior year of college. Countless memories were shared in these frames, a clearly busy but joyful childhood filled with love, laughter and lots of sporting events of all kinds. You could see that this family valued quality time with each other and the home you were in radiated warmth and love.

You ran your fingers lightly over the plastic covering of one album, tracing the faded marker label: Justin – Year 3. Inside, a chubby-cheeked toddler grinned back at you, his tiny facial features stretched in a mischievous but slightly forced smile.

“He never changed,” Patrick teased. “Still hates cameras.”

His words made you laugh a little because it was true, but you also saw something deeper. A boy who had grown up in a home where love wasn’t measured in trophies or contracts but in moments. The same boy who had fought to protect his private life in the face of stadium lights and national attention. You understood now—it wasn’t about secrecy. It was about keeping his people, the most important part of him, safe.

Your gaze flickered to Justin, his fingers tapping against his thigh—a telltale sign of deep thought. He wasn’t just reminiscing. He was remembering what it felt like to carry all of this, to be seen as something larger than life before he even had a chance to grow into it. And yet, here, he wasn’t the NFL quarterback. He was just...Justin.

"He was the starter by the end of that season, kind of became the hometown hero from then," Mitch sighs, sifting through some of the photos. "Things kind of got chaotic after that, with comparisons and people talking on social media."

"It was annoying," Justin cuts in, "deleted my Instagram after that. Only got it back around the draft for endorsement purposes." His words are dry, like it was painful or embarrassing thinking back to that time.

You had always respected, even admired, Justin’s need for privacy. But sitting here, surrounded by the people who had shaped him, you understood where it all came from: it wasn’t just about keeping the world out—it was about keeping his world safe. The weight of expectations, the relentless scrutiny, the unspoken pressure to be perfect—it had started young. He hadn’t chosen to be private. He had been forced to learn how to protect the things that mattered most.

And that’s what this house and his family was.

His one refuge from a world that always wanted more.

"Alright," Holly says, breaking you out of your epiphany, "who's ready to eat?"

This was a family you could definitely see yourself being a part of. Justin seemed so much more relaxed and at ease here which was a stark contrast to what you'd seen from him recently. His job was unforgiving, unrelenting. And the fans? You thanked your lucky stars daily for the fact that Justin wasn't on Twitter, especially after the Houston loss. This is where he belonged, these were his people. They didn't care about the stats or the money or everything that came with it and that's exactly how he wanted to be treated. He had a home in these people. He'd only found that comfort and peace one other time since he left Eugene.

And that was when he met you.

Dinner went on seamlessly, Mark joking asked if you two had a wedding date set after watching his son not-so-subtly check in on you throughout your stay. There were inside jokes, little moments of laughter from your relationship with Justin like how you had to adjust to his crazy hours in the facility from Monday-Wednesday but Thursdays were the days that really mattered, it was just the two of you. And sometimes Mitch and Isabella. But those were the days that brought you even closer, those little moments, just like this one that brought you so much joy it felt like you'd explode. There was easy laughter, Patrick telling some story about Justin being so private and how much he likes to keep to himself that he never thought he'd see this day. You spoke up and reassured him that you think you've successfully peeled back some layers and found your best friend in the process. Out of the corner of your eye you caught Mitch giving Patrick a nudge. Even Mark cracked a little smile, but all you could focus on was Justin's subtle smile that spoke volumes, in his own unique way. After everyone was finished with their meal, you found yourself in the kitchen with Holly, helping her plate dessert while the guys debated football in the other room.

“He’s different with you, you know.” She nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel before leaning against the counter.

Your hands froze mid-reach. A small knot of nerves twisted in your stomach. “Different good or…?”

She smiled, her eyes soft with something unreadable. “Good. Really good.” There was a wistfulness in her expression, something unspoken lingering in the air. “You remind me of someone.”

You tilted your head, curiosity sparking. “Oh?”

“His grandma. My mom,” she said, voice quieter now, like the weight of memory had settled over her. “She was the only one who could ever get my dad to slow down. He was always moving—always thinking about the next challenge, the next goal. But with her, it was…different. She had this way of pulling him back to the present, reminding him that love isn’t measured in achievements. That life isn’t just about what you do—it’s about who you share it with.”

Her eyes met yours then, her meaning unmistakable. “Seeing you and Justin felt very similar to seeing them together again. It’s really nice to see him be with someone who helps him to reel it in a little.”

Your heart clenched, warmth blooming in your chest. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, forcing out a small laugh. “Well, he’s still a workaholic, so I might not be that good at it.”

Holly chuckled. “That’s just who he is. But I see the way he looks at you. The way he’s always checking in. You’re his home. His safe space.” She paused, and added softly, “And that’s all a mother could ever want for her son.”

You blinked back the unexpected sting of tears and watched as Holly swiped at her eyes. Before you could really process what you were doing, you were hugging her again. All the nerves and tension from earlier have completely vanished. Justin might not say much, but his actions had always spoken volumes. And now, hearing it from his mom—knowing that she saw it too—meant more than you could put into words.

The two of you walked back in with trays holding little bowls filled with apple crisp and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top with caramel drizzle.

As Justin watched you, something settled in his chest—a feeling he hadn’t even known he was searching for. His mom was smiling at you in that way she only did when she had already decided someone was family. His dad—usually quiet, reserved—nodded along to your words like he genuinely enjoyed the conversation. His brothers, relentless as ever, had already started pulling you into their teasing.

And there you were. Sitting beside him, laughing like you belonged here. Because you did.

An hour later, after lingering goodbyes and a few last jokes, you walked side by side to his car. As Justin slid into the driver’s seat, he exhaled slow and deep. A weight he hadn’t even realized he was carrying finally lifted. Maybe it was the fear of his two worlds colliding. Maybe it was the quiet, unspoken worry that you wouldn’t fit into this part of his life.

But you did. Seamlessly. Effortlessly. Like you were always meant to.

“Well,” you said, patting his thigh with a teasing grin, “that went great. Can’t believe you were so freaked out.”

He turned to you, feigning offense before shaking his head with a laugh. The sound of it filled the car, warm and easy. You joined in, your laughter melting into his as he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

This. This is what home should feel like.

Justin leaned over, pressing a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary. “Told you they’d love you,” he murmured.

But as he pulled back, hand still wrapped around yours, the thought hit him like a slow-burning realization.

I think I might love you too.

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 6!

and what a week it's been... idk about you all, but i'm very much looking forward to all the 8b spec fic after seeing That One Leak...

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

a graveyard in blue | moonlightmornings/@moonlight-mornings | 12.9k | GA

After a call goes south because of limited resources and an equipment malfunction, Eddie's brave move to rescue a young girl takes a nasty turn. i love how this captures the energy and vibe of a rescue!! genuinely feels straight out of an episode <3

and i'd do it over and over again | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 4.4k | E

Buck and Eddie hook up at the end of "Confessions". oh when i tell you i savoured this one... such a wonderful fic that captures buddie's first time so so perfectly!! i love how their dynamic is written here <3

everything in between | simplyylupin | 2.1k | T

They’re quiet for a moment, mulling over the unsaid, and then Buck’s bringing his phone closer to his face, eyes squinting. “Are you naked?” the absolute codependency of these two <3 so good!!

hot ghost problems | ebjameston/@ebjameston | 40.9k | T

The ghost would prefer to go by Buck, if Eddie wouldn’t mind. this was a reread! i was reminded of the magic system here and revisited it - can confirm that magic and ghosts and all that are so very good here, and i love the diaz siblings!!

i'll tell them put me back in it (and i would do it again) | paleredheadinascifi | 4.8k| T

Eddie doesn't know how to make his listening history private. Buck doesn't know what to do with the words in front of his eyes. Chris cannot believe he has to deal with either of them. the sheer brilliance of this concept... such a lovely look at the buckley-diaz dynamics! i was smiling the whole way through <3

it's golden, like daylight | rarakiplin/@hoediaz | 8.7k | T

“Shut up,” fingers dig into his ribs, “I mean, would you want to? Be married again?” such wonderful firefam dynamics!! i read this last week, i think, and already reread it this past week as well. a new favourite for sure <3

lonely little love dog | littleghost/@ghostlandtoo | 24k | M

When the 118 is closed for reconstruction after an earthquake, Buck is a floater for different stations around the city. He tries not to let it get to him. Much. this is such a fascinating look at buck's character!! and i LOVED the mara scene <3

parabola | semperama/@semperama | 4.6k | T

“Hey, uh. By the way.” Buck’s been thinking about this, and he has to say it now, or it’ll explode out of him at a much worse time, in a much worse way. “Make sure you don’t forget to change your will again.” truly no fic captures the angst with a happy ending tag like this. also this fic is how i learned that there's a special ao3 tag for eddie's will, which sounds about right. anyway, point is, this is wonderful!!

the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love | lemonzestywrites/@lemonzestywrites | 25.7k | E

After the events of 6x13, Buck is worried he's lost his charm in bed. Eddie eagerly offers his services to prove otherwise. a reread of one of my favourite fics <3 there's something about the intersection of smut and feelings realisation and introspection in this fic that just hits so very hard, it's lovely <3

the whale fall principle | fastcardotmp3/@fastcardotmp3 | 95.5k | M

Daniel Buckley lives, but he’s still deciding what that means. Maddie is having a baby, but it isn’t her husband’s. And Evan knows his purpose. Until he doesn’t anymore. okay so definitely heed the creator chose not to use archive warnings tag here (there are specific warnings in the chapter notes) but holy shit, this fic. genuinely the best buckley sibling dynamics i have read, like, maybe ever. such a wonderful eddie and chimney and everyone, and such gorgeous writing!! if this one sounds up your alley, you're in for a treat <3

to ebb and flow | akapeterman/@akapeterman | 5.1k | GA

buck is sick, eddie is worried, and christopher is an angel. they'll be okay. i've really been vibing with sickfics lately, can you tell? this is another lovely lovely fic, such great hurt/comfort/domestic fluff!!

wait for me to come home | written_promises | 1.9k | GA

Eddie comes back home to LA from Texas to find Buck waiting for him… in his bed. Because he’s been living in Eddie’s home. and eddie's bed is exactly where buck should be<3 so soft and sweet and beautiful!!

we return to each other in waves | cozycatwriter/@leon-trans-kennedy | 3.1k | GA

“Yes I do. Of course I do. You saved Chris and looked after him the best you could during a tsunami-and you’re still recovering from an embolism from having your leg crushed on the job. The least I could do is look after you and let you stay the night. Besides, Chris would want you to stay.” post-tsunami fics my beloveds <3 it genuinely makes me so happy to see new ones pop up, and this is truly an excellent one!! i love the bed-sharing especially!

you need a friendly hand (and i need action) | AmZamReads | 13.1k | E

Eddie picks up pottery as a hobby and accidentally blows up on Instagram for "accidentally" posting thirst traps of him throwing on the wheel. Buck stumbles across the account and immediately becomes obsessed with Eddie's hands, and horny shenanigans ensues. this fic makes me wish i could make pottery. i love eddie's pottery friends!! and a lovely buddie dynamic too <3

[frightfullytreeish]

OOPS

Buck feels sick. Has been all day, really, all through a shift of minor kitchen fires and people locked out of their apartments. Not too much cotton candy sick but sick like the morning of your sister's wedding to a guy you don't trust. Sick like walking through the wreckage left in the wake of a wave.

It's dumb. He's being dumb. He knows he's being dumb. People's friends move away all the time. At least Eddie’s basically one straight line away. He's still in the same country; hell, practically the same time zone. It's not the end of the world.

But it sure fuckin feels like it.

So Buck’s feeling sick, sitting on the couch, Eddie’s couch, staring up at the ceiling with a half-drunk bottle of beer - Eddie’s beer, left behind in Eddie’s fridge - balanced on his thigh when his cell starts blaring Eye of the Tiger. He set the song as Eddie’s ringtone years ago, after some running joke he doesn't even remember anymore, except that Eddie hated it, but whenever Eddie stole his phone to change it Buck always changed it back. Now, in the quiet of Eddie’s almost-empty house, the tune makes Buck startle so hard the bottle tips off his leg and onto the couch, beer spilling out over the cushion. 

"Shit," Buck gasps, catching the bottle too late. He shoves it onto the coffee table and - no tissues to hand, not even a newspaper - tugs his tee over his head and presses it into the damp spot, grabbing his cell with his other hand. "H-hey, man. Hey. What's up? How're you settling in?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Eddie replies, his voice warm and steady.

It’s pavlovian, probably, the way Buck sinks back into the couch at the sound of Eddie’s voice. 

“Which?” he says.

“Both. Either.”

“I’m, uh… it’s weird without you.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Same here.”

Buck closes his eyes, tucking his cell phone in close against his ear. In the dark behind his eyelids, Eddie could just be in another room - in the kitchen, grabbing Buck another beer. Out of sight, but close enough that Buck can breathe again, for the first time since the U-Haul rounded the corner and disappeared from view.

“Already made a mess of your couch,” he says. Aiming for joking, but his voice comes out lower than he intended, and he hears Eddie’s breath hitch in his ear.

There’s a pause.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks, his voice low too.

“Spilled my beer. I’m soaking it up with my shirt as we speak.”

“Which shirt?”

“Just a plain grey tee. Won’t matter if it stains, thankfully.”

The pause is longer this time. With anyone else, the silence would be weird, but - well, this is Eddie. They’ve both nodded off on calls to each other before, multiple times, or muted themselves to take a crap or eat a sandwich. So Buck waits, easy, letting his head sink further back into the couch cushion, his free hand brushing up and down his bare chest. Fingers trailing around his belly button and down to the hem of his pants, then back up again, while Eddie breathes out long and slow, and the sound and the touch combined leaves Buck’s skin tingling..

“So you’re just… half naked on the couch?” Eddie says at last. He could be standing in the archway now, staring at Buck incredulously - he can picture it - or, no - Eddie’s voice pitched low, shaded with amusement - or, no -

Buck’s fingertips slip beneath the elastic of his waistband.

“Pretty much, yeah,” he admits.

“Which… which side of the couch?”

“The right.”

“That’s my spot,” says Eddie. 

Buck’s dick twitches. This might be getting weird. But he doesn’t feel sick anymore, he doesn’t feel lonely - how could he when Eddie is right there, his voice right against Buck’s ear. 

Mouth dry, heart hammering, Buck says, “I’m keeping it warm for you.”

He hears Eddie inhale sharply. A muffled sound, like - like - clothing rustling. Like a wet gasp. Buck can picture this too - Eddie, not in the archway any longer, but standing behind Buck, no, in front of Buck, standing over Buck with his eyes dark and - and wanting.

Eddie says, “Good.”

With a groan he can’t suppress, Buck shoves his hand fully into his sweatpants. He’s already half hard and his dick jerks in his grip as soon as he wraps his hand around it. He has to squash his cell tight between his shoulder and his ear to shove his pants and boxers down with his other hand, lifting his hips up just high enough and pushing the waistband down just low enough for his dick to spring free. He’s panting - he’s panting right into his phone, and Eddie must be able to hear it, Eddie must know what he’s doing.

The thought makes Buck feel dizzy.

“Wh-what’s your new couch like?” he gasps out, squeezing his dick so hard it’s just this side of painful, his thumb rubbing over his slit in the way that’s always made him shiver. Already wet.

“It’s… uh… green.”

“Comfy?”

“Not - not bad.”

Buck’s seen Eddie sweating. He’s seen Eddie panting, after a hard workout, with his hair damp and his mouth open and wet and red. He’s seen Eddie close his eyes in pleasure, from the first sip of coffee in the morning or the first swig of beer after a long day. He can picture it all, eyes screwed tight shut, tugging his dick hard and fast - one foot up on Eddie’s coffee table for leverage and his head pressed back into Eddie’s couch - in Eddie’s house. He’s not a guest. He’s not a guest.

“I miss you,” Buck groans without meaning to. 

“Me too,” Eddie gasps back. “Buck, Buck, I miss you so fucking much-”

Buck comes with all the air punched out of his lungs, with his foot kicking out and knocking the almost empty beer bottle onto the floor, back bowed and mouth wide open and his eyes still shut so tightly that white stars flash behind his eyelids. His cell slips out of his fingers, bouncing onto the couch cushions. Buck pants and pants for air.

When he picks his phone back up again, the other line is silent. But he can hear Eddie breathing, hard and fast at first, then slower. Deep breaths. Buck opens his eyes and waits.

“I miss you,” Eddie says again at last.

“I miss you too.”

“I gotta go,” Eddie says. “But I’ll - we’ll - call me, okay? Or I’ll call you. I’m sorry. I gotta go.”

But he doesn’t hang up. So Buck doesn’t either, wiping off his stomach with his damp, beer-stained t-shirt, and tucking himself back into his pants one-handed while he holds his cell with the other. He drifts into Eddie’s bedroom and flops down onto Eddie’s bed. Props the phone against Eddie’s pillow so he can listen for Eddie’s breaths.

“I’m sleeping on your side of the bed,” Buck whispers, and waits.

It’s not long.

“Good,” Eddie whispers back.

CONSIDER: buck and eddie start accidentally having really niche phone sex about how buck is in eddie's house and sleeping in eddie's old bed and jerking it on eddie's old couch etc, without either of them admitting that phone sex is what they're doing

eddie, in a what are you wearing voice: where are you?

buck, Hard: on your couch

eddie, Also Hard: oh nice

[sdmnpact]

Tequila Sunrise.

Wroetoshaw x Reader smut

**18+ MDNI**

♪ Now Playing: Tequila Sunrise by Emblem 3 ♪

~~~

You were at the club with your best friends. You noticed how crowded it was, the music pounding loudly with the DJ's lights illuminating the room in a pinkish blue tint. Your friends decided on having a night out full of fun and forgetting your everyday worries.

"Y/n, we're gonna go on the dance floor, come join us!" Your friend shrieked as she was holding onto the bar already wasted from the multiple drinks she's had. "I think I'll just sit here for a bit, enjoy my drink. I'll join you later." She rolled her eyes playfully, waving you off stumbling towards the dance floor with the others.

You watched at your friends danced, their bodies moving around in tandem with the crowd. You wanted to dance, but they have got the best tequila sunrises you've ever had in your life and you wanted to finish it. You sipped at it, looking at your phone for a brief moment when you felt someone sit by your side.

You quickly glanced over and saw a guy with blondish hair. You turned away from him, continuing to sip at your drink. You pulled out the cherry and set it on the napkin in front of you.

"Don't like cherries?" The man next to you asked. You turned around, slightly surprised by his sudden words.

"I'm sorry?"

"I noticed you picked out the cherry, well cherries." He pointed at the napkin with a total of four.

"Oh, yeah, I don't really like these ones as much." You said with an awkward laugh. You looked down, trying to avoid eye contact.

"So you don't mind if I take them?" You looked up at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"You want a stranger's cherries?"

"Well, I'm Harry. What's your name?"

"Y/n..." You said with slight hesitation, your previous question still lingering in your mind.

"See, we aren't strangers anymore." He said as he picked them up and plopped them in his mouth.

You were curious about him, he had a very confident demeanor making you feel a bit weary but you decided to keep talking with him.

"You're just okay with eating a stranger's cherries? What if I sucked on them then put them down?"

"Adds flavor, doesn't it." You scrunched your face in slight disgust but found it funny how unphased this man is.

"So, why are you here and not out on the dance floor?" He asked looking towards the crowd.

"Just enjoying my drink, have you tried these? They're super tasty but not too sweet!" You exclaimed with maybe a bit too much enthusiasm and slightly tipsy from drinking so many.

"Yeah, I can see that." He laugh a breathy little chuckle. There was a small moment where he was mesmerized by your eyes getting lost in them. He found you so beautiful even in your drunken state. To be honest, he had been trying to find a reason to come up to you, luckily, the cherries offered a nice conversation starter.

"So, you wanna get outta here?" You asked jokingly seeing his face flush immediately.

"What?"

"I'm just kidding, don't get your knickers in a twist." You laughed as he let out a big breath.

"Well, do you want to go dance now?" He asked still slightly red in the cheeks.

"Sure." You finished the last of your drink as he grabbed your hand leading you to the dance floor.

You looked over and saw your friends throwing you funny faces making you roll your eyes. One of your friends mouthing a 'get in there' causing you to turn your back towards them, not wanting to see their reactions.

You and Harry began dancing to the upbeat music that filled the scene. You weren't the best at dancing and just loved to enjoy yourself, even if you looked weird.

You bodies moved in sync with each other. You moved your hips into his as he held onto your waist for grip. You just danced together without a care in the world.

The music changed to a more rhythmic tune but you didn't want to separate from him and you could feel his grip tighten. You turned to face him, his forehead collecting little drops of sweat making his messy hair stick to it.

"You're a really good dancer" He shouted over the music, you shot him a little smirk, moving the hair from his forehead.

"You're not so bad yourself." You said, both of you breathing heavily. You stared into each others eyes, taking a short break from the intense dancing.

His eyes moved from your eyes to your lips. You noticed that he wanted to kiss you and you grabbed his neck, pulling him towards you planting your lips on his.

As cliché as it sounds, you felt a flutter in your stomach as you moved your lips against his gripping his neck tighter for support.

It felt like you were the only people in the room as you continued kissing. You couldn't pull away, you felt hungry for more of him as he sensed it, his hands slowly trailing to your bottom.

You yelped a bit as he squeezed it, you could feel a slight smile form on his lips.

You continued like this for a couple more minutes until you remembered where you were. You pulled away, putting your hand on your lips.

"That was a bit unexpected." You said with a small chuckle.

"Should we do it again?" His bottom lip sticking out and his eyes widening like a puppy.

"Maybe... but not here." You said pulling on his arm as you made your way out of the club.

You two were both panting heavily as you walked into the empty street in front of the club. The only sounds were the muted thumping of the music and some crickets chirping in the background.

You pulled him towards the nearby alleyway that had a small little nook with walls on either side. You pushed him into the wall, grabbing his neck once again, pulling him towards your lips.

You kissed him even rougher this time, feeling more free with this slight privacy. He held onto your waist putting his hands under your shirt. You gasped slightly feeling his cold hands on your delicate skin.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth exploring as you let him take dominance. You felt his hands move up towards your bra as he then unclasped the clips.

His hands then made their way towards your breast, delicately fondly them as you moaned, he began messaging your nipples not breaking the momentum of the kiss.

You tugged on his hair, desperately wanting more of him. He understood and moved his lips down your jawline, then your neck, taking small nips of it as he made his way down.

He swiftly spun you two around so you were against the wall. He lifted up your shirt, his thumb running over your nipples as you looked at him, biting your lip.

You watched as his head made his way down to your left breast, placing his soft lips on your nipple, sucking ever so lightly. His tongue swirling around while his other hand was still on your right breast caressing it. Your eyes rolled back as you felt your heat pulsating at his soft touch.

His hand made it's way down towards the bottom of your skirt. Luckily, you were wearing a loose fitting skirt and only a thong underneath.

His fingers slowly reached underneath.

"Already wet?" He teased, his voice deeper and raspier than earlier.

His fingers trailing around your heat, going everywhere but inside. His fingertips drawing lines up and down your inner thighs finally going near your clit.

Suddenly he inserted two fingers inside, making you yelp at the sudden feeling.

His lips made their way back to yours to keep you from moaning out loud.

His fingers going in and out of you, causing your hips to buck as his speed increased.

You felt yourself already dripping around his hand as his cold fingers felt nice inside your warm clit.

Your head went back, separating you from his lips as you couldn't handle the intense pressure you were feeling. You let out multiple moans as his speed increased faster and faster.

It's almost like he was playing a game, seeing how loud he can make you scream.

You quickly glanced at him, he had a cheesy grin as he watched your face. Admiring how beautiful you looked, especially the face your were making from his touch. Your cheeks were red and you could feel how sweaty both of you were getting.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum." You said struggling to get the words out. This motivated him to go even faster. You kept thinking he couldn't go faster but he did and it made you go mental.

You felt a knot in your stomach and your legs begin to shake. He noticed how unstable you were and held onto your waist tighter, trying to hold you up.

"Next time, I'm gonna ram into you harder." He whispered in your ear as you finally felt yourself release all over his fingers and you let out an extremely loud scream.

"Hey! Is everything oka- oh my god, I'm so sorry." You looked as a random stranger stood behind Harry, quickly shielding his eyes and walked away.

You quickly stood up straight, still slightly weak in your legs as he pulled his fingers out.

"Got my fingers drenched." He chuckled as he looked you in the eyes slowly sucking on his fingers making you admire how handsome he looked.

You rolled your eyes as he was completely unphased by the stranger.

"Next time, I'll please you like this." You looked up as you planted another kiss on his lips.

[mixolya]

ᓚᘏᗢ — golden hours, golden hearts : chapter 019 !

you slipped on a loose button-up, tucking it halfway into your jeans as you sat at your vanity. your next modeling shoot wasn't anything major, just a simple shoot for an up-and-coming brand, but you still wanted to look somewhat put together before heading out.

reaching for your concealer, you dabbed it under your eyes, blending it in with your fingers when-

ping!

your phone vibrated against the desk. you glanced at the screen, expecting a message from your manager or mitsuki, but instead-

you exhaled sharply through your nose. whoever that guy shidou ryusei was, he was a dumbass. shaking your head, you locked your phone, deciding to deal with this later. right now, you had a job to do.

the shoot went by in a blur. you posed, changed outfits, adjusted your expression depending on what the photographer wanted- nothing you weren't used to. the team was easy to work with, and the atmosphere was lighthearted, which made the whole thing fly by faster than you expected.

before you knew it, the shoot was over, and you were stepping outside into the crisp afternoon air, slipping your hands into the pockets of your coat.

and there he was.

sae sat on a bench a few feet away, one ankle resting over his knee as he scrolled through his phone. his head lifted slightly at the sound of your footsteps, and when he caught your eye, he slipped his phone back into his pocket, pushing himself to stand.

"you're actually here," you said, more to yourself than to him.

he raised a brow. "you thought i wouldn't be?"

you shrugged. "figured you'd cancel last minute and send me a half-assed excuse maybe."

a quiet huff of amusement left his lips as he took a step closer. "if i wanted to cancel, i wouldn't have texted you in the first place."

fair enough.

"so," he continued, slipping his hands into his pockets. "where do you want to go?"

you gave him a look. "you were the one who wanted to meet up."

"yeah," he said, tilting his head slightly. "but i figured i'd let you choose."

you narrowed your eyes slightly before sighing. "well, what do you want to see?"

sae paused for a moment, his gaze flickering away as if he was contemplating something. the sun was starting to dip behind the buildings, casting a soft orange hue across the city, and for a second, you almost felt like you were in a movie scene.

"honestly?" he looked back at you, his tone much lighter now. "i just want to spend time with you. since you're my girlfriend now. so why don't you show me what you like?"

your eyebrow quirked, both surprised and a little skeptical at how casually he was putting it.

"are you serious?" you crossed your arms, trying to appear more annoyed than you actually were.

he smiled, a genuine one this time, and shrugged. "yeah. you can show me something boring if you want."

your eyes narrowed playfully. "boring, huh? alright then, follow me."

without waiting for him to reply, you turned and started walking, heading in the direction you hadn't quite planned yet. sae followed without hesitation, keeping pace beside you as the two of you walked through the streets.

you could feel him glancing at you every so often, probably trying to figure out here you were leading him, but you didn't look back.

it didn't take long for you to reach a quiet street lined with trees and small cafes, the kind of place that wasn't packed with people or overly flashy. you stopped in front of a little museum you loved, one that was tucked away from the usual crowds. it wasn't too popular, but it had a certain charm to it that made it feel more intimate, like you could actually enjoy the art without a thousand other people jostling for a view.

you glanced at sae, who had fallen silent for a while now. his expression was thoughtful, like he was sizing up the place. when he noticed you looking at him, his lips twitched into a slight grin.

"this is where you wanted to go?" he asked, his voice almost teasing.

you nodded, starting to walk toward the entrance. "yep. art galleries aren't your things, aren't they?"

"i don't mind them," he said casually, following you inside. "as long as you're not trying to make me understand all the abstract stuff."

you laughed softly, shaking your head. "it's not that kind of place. come on."

the museum was quiet, the kind of calm atmosphere that made it easy to forget the outside world. you walked through the galleries, occasionally stopping to admire a painting or sculpture, but not really saying much. sae was right beside you the whole time, walking at your pace, but his presence was less of a distraction now. the awkwardness from earlier seemed to melt away, leaving a space where you could just be together, without all the pressure.

there was one painting that caught your eye- an abstract piece, with deep blues and swirling greens. you couldn't explain why, but it made you pause, drawn into the colors. sae noticed you staring at it and stepped closer, leaning in slightly, making your breath stop.

"is it weird?" he asked, his voice quieter now. "that i'm starting to get the appeal of art, just from watching you look at it?"

you glanced at him, a little surprised by the comment. "you're weird," you muttered, but it wasn't exactly an insult. it was just, maybe, a different side of him. a side you hadn't seen much on social media before. not that you've known him for years but there has been a lot more content of sae itoshi on your feed since he stepped into your life.

he smirked, unbothered. "yeah, i get that a lot."

you stayed there for a few more minutes, lost in the silence of the room. it felt different, easier, like you didn't need to fill every second with words. and even though you wouldn't admit it aloud, there was something nice about it, being there with him.

once you'd walked through most of the museum, you made your way back out into the city streets when your stomach grumbled slightly, reminding you that you didn't eat anything yet for today. your eyes wandered over the street, and that's when you spotted it- the hot pot restaurant you had been dying to try for ages.

you didn't even think twice. "hey, let's eat here," you said, pointing toward the small building with a neon sign glowing above it.

sae glanced at the restaurant you were pointing to, raising an eyebrow at the sign. "hot pot, huh?" he said, his voice a little more neutral than usual, but there was a hint of curiosity behind it. "looks... cozy."

you didn't wait for a second invitation. without even thinking about it, you turned and headed straight for the door, your excitement taking over. sae followed, a lazy smirk on his face as he caught up to you, hands stuffed casually in his pockets.

the small restaurant wasn’t too crowded, the warm glow from the lights inside offering a welcoming atmosphere. the hostess greeted you both and led you to a booth near the back, where you settled in with a comfortable distance between you, despite your earlier, more relaxed interaction at the museum.

sitting down, you grabbed the menu, scanning the different broths and meats listed. "i’ve been dying to try this place for weeks," you said, your voice slightly quieter now that you were seated. You felt a small rush of excitement again- something about being here, in this little hidden gem of a restaurant, felt different than what you usually did. there was no pretense, no flashes of cameras or waiting for a perfect moment to pose.

"yeah?" sae’s voice broke you from your thoughts as he picked up the menu, flipping through it slowly. "what makes this place so special? the broth?"

you nodded eagerly, not missing the way sae's gaze flickered toward you in curiosity. "it’s all about the broth. i think they’ve got, like, ten different types. but the best one is the spicy miso- it’s got this kick to it, and the flavors... they’re unreal."

sae raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, instead setting the menu down and folding his hands on the table. "alright, let’s go with that one then. i'll let you choose."

you nodded, your excitement returning full force as you placed the order. you weren’t sure why, but it felt like the right choice for the evening- something low-key, comfortable, and easy.

as the waiter walked away to put in your order, you leaned back in your seat, glancing at sae. he was looking out the window, lost in thought, his usual self-assured air now replaced with something... quieter. you tried not to stare too much, but his relaxed demeanor felt so out of place compared to his usual boldness.

"so," you said after a moment, trying to break the silence. "i didn’t expect you to enjoy the museum so much."

sae turned his gaze to you, catching your eye as if he’d been waiting for you to say something. "i told you, i’m not just about flashy things," he said with a shrug. "i can appreciate... this." he gestured around the cozy interior of the restaurant. "it’s more... real. different."

you blinked, surprised. his answer wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but you couldn’t deny the sincerity in his voice. "huh. didn’t take you for someone who’d care about the real stuff."

sae’s lips twitched up into that familiar smirk, though this time it didn’t feel like he was putting on a mask. "you’d be surprised," he muttered, leaning back in his seat. "you don’t know everything about me yet, do you?"

that was true. you didn’t know everything about him. you’d seen the public version of sae itoshi. confident, untouchable, always in the spotlight- but here, in this quiet booth, he seemed more... like a person. maybe the kind of person who enjoyed the simple things more than he let on. you glanced at him, your curiosity irritating.

before you could say anything, your food arrived, and the conversation shifted as you dug into the steaming pot of broth and ingredients. you tried not to show how much you were enjoying it, but sae noticed. "seems like you made the right choice," he commented, teasing lightly.

you gave him a small, amused smile. "yeah, i did. i wasn’t kidding about the broth."

the two of you continued eating, the atmosphere still relaxed despite the underlying tension that always seemed to linger when sae was around. eventually, as the meal slowed down and you both leaned back, your stomachs full, sae’s voice cut through the comfortable silence once again.

"tell me," he started, his tone quieter now, more thoughtful. "what’s the biggest thing you’ve ever done for yourself?"

you looked up from your bowl, caught off guard by the question. your mind flickered back to the many sacrifices and decisions you’d made throughout your life- the career, the constant hustle, the push for more. but sae wasn’t asking about your career. he wasn’t asking about the apparent stuff.

you hesitated. "i don’t know," you admitted, your fingers tracing the edge of your bowl. "i guess i’ve always been more focused on... other things. other people."

sae raised an eyebrow at your response, seemingly surprised by your honesty. "that’s pretty typical for someone in your position."

you scoffed, trying to shrug it off. "i don’t see it that way. you always do what you think is best, right? but... you know, sometimes, it feels like i forget what i even want anymore."

he was silent for a moment, watching you closely, before his gaze softened. "i get that," he said quietly. "it’s easy to forget about yourself when you’re always looking out for everyone else. but you deserve more than that."

you swallowed, not quite sure how to respond. his words hung in the air between you two, a little too heavy for something so casual. for a moment, the weird dynamic between you and sae seemed to shift. it wasn’t like him to get so... serious.

sae leaned back in his seat, looking like he was debating something in his mind before shaking his head slightly. "but hey," he said, shrugging as if to brush it off, "i'm not here to preach to you. just do what makes you happy. that’s all i'm saying."

you gave a small nod, your eyes meeting his for just a moment longer than usual. there was something genuine in the way he spoke, and for the first time that evening, you felt like you were seeing more of the person beneath the surface.

but you weren’t ready to let it all out just yet. so, instead, you forced a smile, picking up your chopsticks and shifting the conversation to something lighter. "well, for tonight, i'm happy with this."

sae smiled back, clearly relieved to see you back to your usual self. "good. that’s all that matters."

and so, you spent the rest of the evening talking about lighter things, but that one moment of quiet honesty lingered in the back of your mind, like a shadow that refused to fade. sae itoshi wasn’t just the guy in front of the cameras- there was more to him. and for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, that scared you a little.

but for now, you were content. or at least, pretending to be.

"hey," he said suddenly, his voice casual, but his gaze fixed on you.

Sae glanced at the restaurant you were pointing to, raising an eyebrow at the neon sign. "Hot pot, huh?" he said, his voice a little more neutral than usual, but there was a hint of curiosity behind it. "Looks... cozy."

You didn't wait for a second invitation. Without even thinking about it, you turned and headed straight for the door, your excitement taking over. Sae followed, a lazy smirk on his face as he caught up to you, hands stuffed casually in his pockets.

The small restaurant wasn’t too crowded, the warm glow from the lights inside offering a welcoming atmosphere. The hostess greeted you both and led you to a booth near the back, where you settled in with a comfortable distance between you, despite your earlier, more relaxed interaction at the museum.

Sitting down, you grabbed the menu quickly, scanning the different broths and meats listed. "I’ve been dying to try this place for weeks," you said, your voice slightly quieter now that you were seated. You felt a small rush of excitement again—something about being here, in this little hidden gem of a restaurant, felt different than what you usually did with Sae. There was no pretense, no flashes of cameras or waiting for a perfect moment to pose.

"Yeah?" Sae’s voice broke you from your thoughts as he picked up the menu, flipping through it slowly. "What makes this place so special? The broth?"

You nodded eagerly, not missing the way Sae's gaze flickered toward you in curiosity. "It’s all about the broth. I think they’ve got, like, ten different types. But the best one is the spicy miso—it’s got this kick to it, and the flavors... they’re unreal."

Sae raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, instead setting the menu down and folding his hands on the table. "Alright, let’s go with that one then. I’ll let you choose."

You nodded, your excitement returning full force as you placed the order. You weren’t sure why, but it felt like the right choice for the evening—something low-key, comfortable, and easy.

As the waiter walked away to put in your order, you leaned back in your seat, glancing at Sae. He was looking out the window, lost in thought, his usual self-assured air now replaced with something... quieter. You tried not to stare too much, but his relaxed demeanor felt so out of place compared to his usual bravado.

"So," you said after a moment, trying to break the silence. "I didn’t expect you to enjoy the museum so much."

Sae turned his gaze to you, catching your eye as if he’d been waiting for you to say something. "I told you, I’m not just about flashy things," he said with a shrug. "I can appreciate... this." He gestured around the cozy interior of the restaurant. "It’s more... real. Different."

You blinked, surprised. His answer wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but you couldn’t deny the sincerity in his voice. "Huh. Didn’t take you for someone who’d care about the 'real' stuff."

Sae’s lips twitched up into that familiar smirk, though this time it didn’t feel like he was putting on a mask. "You’d be surprised," he muttered, leaning back in his seat. "You don’t know everything about me yet, do you?"

That was true. You didn’t know everything about him. You’d seen the public version of Sae Itoshi—confident, untouchable, always in the spotlight—but here, in this quiet booth, he seemed more... like a person. Maybe the kind of person who enjoyed the simple things more than he let on. You glanced at him, your curiosity piqued.

Before you could say anything, your food arrived, and the conversation shifted as you dug into the steaming pot of broth and ingredients. You tried not to show how much you were enjoying it, but Sae noticed. "Seems like I made the right choice," he commented, teasing lightly.

You gave him a small, amused smile. "Yeah, you did. I wasn’t kidding about the broth."

The two of you continued eating, the atmosphere still relaxed despite the underlying tension that always seemed to linger when Sae was around. Eventually, as the meal slowed down and you both leaned back, your stomachs full, Sae’s voice cut through the comfortable silence once again.

"Tell me," he started, his tone quieter now, more introspective. "What’s the biggest thing you’ve ever done for yourself?"

You looked up from your bowl, momentarily caught off guard by the question. Your mind flickered back to the many sacrifices and decisions you’d made throughout your life—the career, the constant hustle, the push for more. But Sae wasn’t asking about your career. He wasn’t asking about the superficial stuff.

You hesitated. "I don’t know," you admitted, your fingers tracing the edge of your bowl. "I guess I’ve always been more focused on... other things. Other people."

Sae raised an eyebrow at your response, seemingly surprised by your honesty. "That’s pretty typical for someone in your position."

You scoffed, trying to shrug it off. "I don’t see it that way. You always do what you think is best, right? But... you know, sometimes, it feels like I forget what I even want anymore."

He was silent for a moment, watching you closely, before his gaze softened. "I get that," he said quietly. "It’s easy to forget about yourself when you’re always looking out for everyone else. But you deserve more than that."

You swallowed, not quite sure how to respond. His words hung in the air between you two, a little too heavy for something so casual. For a moment, the playful, teasing dynamic between you and Sae seemed to shift. It wasn’t like him to get so... serious.

Sae leaned back in his seat, looking like he was debating something in his mind before shaking his head slightly. "But hey," he said, shrugging as if to brush it off, "I’m not here to preach to you. Just... do what makes you happy. That’s all I’m saying."

You gave a small nod, your eyes meeting his for just a moment longer than usual. There was something genuine in the way he spoke, and for the first time that evening, you felt like you were seeing more of the person beneath the surface.

But you weren’t ready to let it all out just yet. So, instead, you forced a smile, picking up your chopsticks and shifting the conversation to something lighter. "Well, for tonight, I’m happy with this."

Sae smiled back, clearly relieved to see you back to your usual self. "Good. That’s all that matters."

And so, you spent the rest of the evening talking about lighter things, but that one moment of quiet honesty lingered in the back of your mind, like a shadow that refused to fade. Sae Itoshi wasn’t just the guy in front of the cameras—there was more to him. And for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, that scared you a little.

But for now, you were content. Or at least, pretending to be.

"hey," he said suddenly, his voice casual, but his gaze fixed on you.

he handed you his phone, and your eyes instantly fell on the screen. it was a picture. one of you at the museum, standing in front of a painting, completely absorbed in the art. the catch? it was from behind, just capturing the curve of your shoulders and the fall of your hair as you stared at the piece, the soft light framing your figure.

you glanced up at sae. "that's actually a good shot," you said, your voice soft, the usual sarcasm absent.

he softened, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "do you mind if i post it?"

you stared at the photo, feeling the unfamiliar urge to hesitate.

"sure," you said, your tone quieter than usual...

chapter 018 > here > chapter 020

taglist is open ! <3

back to golden hours, golden hearts

a/n: hi i'm back and i dont like this chapter bye

taglist: @darling-dearesttt @saeslove @yuukiririix @sof888a @beepbopzlorp @luvrrin @narcjsistx @catukin @megumismyhusband @morgyyyyyyy @levihanmyotp @kaz-0e @nensi @vaelils @loverryxx @kunascutie @swagkittybear @alexiaray @kaidostwin @black-swan-blog27 @syarc0re @vayahatesu @yangx2isawhore @pinkfqiry @treeguzzler @shumeow-h @modxbea @90s-belladonna @rory-cakes @sapph1r3x @yuiearyi @pctterheadd @thecallofmedusa @whisperofae @belovedfedya @anqelkoz @yukari1k @dontmindtheevie @pookalicious-hq @pan-kojiwa @spookysoowpprince @mivqko @chuuyalvover @viviinpt @h1sllvr @luvvmae @renchai @yourlocaleffy @x3nafix @saeglazer

© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[jee-bus]

Migraines - Aizawa X Reader blurb

Hello again! You all voted in the poll for this, so I deliver. Just domestic life fluff, the slightest most barely mention of sex and even then it's like nothing even if you squint, GN!reader.

I hope you enjoy! If you liked this, consider buying me a Coffee =] - Ko-fi.com/marley_offline_23

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Work was rough, training was rough, the entire day has been rough. 

The dark haired man had woken up with a minor headache that had gotten progressively worse throughout the day. It didn't help that seemingly everyone in his life was loud and reckless and had a penchant for annoying him with whatever easily solvable issues they currently had! 

Well… except one person… but they were currently at work and not wrapped up in bed with him while he did his best to ignore any and all sounds.

Aizawa let out a low groan and wrapped his blanket around himself tighter, as if that would help with the banging and pulsing that was happening inside of his head. The aspirin he had taken earlier was doing nothing to help.

The man didn't know how much time had passed from him getting home to now, all he was really aware of was the blistering, thundering pain in his head. But when he vaguely heard the front door open and a light voice saying hello to the cat, he was sure it had been at least an hour.

"Sho?" Your sweet voice called out, "I'm home! I also picked up some dinner, you didn't respond to my text so I assumed we weren't going to cook anything tonight." Had you texted him? He hadn't looked at his phone, the bright screen made his head worse. 

The smell of dumplings and miso soup wafted through the air as you made your way through the apartment, his stomach curled at the smell. 

"Shota..?" You slowly opened the bedroom door, then quickly shut it when you saw your husband, "What's wrong, love? Are you okay?" Aizawa was grateful that you spoke in hushed whispers.

Instead of responding, the man just groaned and vaguely gestured to his head. His partner seemed to get the hint, though. 

Smiling, they walked over and sat the food on the bedside table before seating themselves at the edge of the bed, placing a comforting hand on the man's forehead. "Have you taken anything?"

Aizawa nodded, leaning into their cool touch, "S'not doing much." He muttered out, grabbing your arm and tugging you into bed with him. 

"Sho!" You yelped out, before quickly throwing a hand over your mouth and giving the man an apologetic look, "Shota. I have to put the food away, change out of my day clothes, clean up a bit—"

The man cut you off by placing a thumb over your lips, his hand enveloping the right side of your face, before pulling you in for a kiss. Slow, full of want. Aizawa was more than ready to give in, wanting anything to take his mind off of his migraine, craving you as the perfect medicine. 

One hand slid from your face to the back of your neck as the other traced your hip, stopping only to squeeze the plush spots. Though the motion slightly hurt his head, he rolled you two over so that his form was braced on top of yours. 

Lost in the moment, your hands trailed up his chest and then into his hair. Silky waves curled between your fingers, and when Aizawa moved from your mouth to your neck, you gasped and gave a slight tug. 

Which made the man groan in pain. 

Which made you stop and realize just how you ended up beneath him in the first place. 

"Sho, you need rest." You put your hands on the side of his face and made him look at you. 

Again, he just let out something between a groan and a sigh and all but collapsed on top of you, his muscular frame encasing yours, once again burying his face in your neck as you rubbed his back.

Before you could interrupt his attempt at falling asleep with the reminder of your dinner that was currently on the bedside table, he spoke.

"Don't worry about it. I can practically hear you thinking." You chuckled and kissed his forehead.

"Fine. Just try to sleep." 

"Way ahead of you." He pulled the blanket up around the both of you, his head already feeling better than before.

[bradshawshawaiianshirt]

the bodyguard | prologue

bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x famous!reader AU

After joining Maverick's security team once he left the navy, Rooster had become the best bodyguard around. He never thought too hard about it, he'd go in, protect whoever he was assigned, and leave. The threat against his client never really went anywhere if he was on the job, and he always put it first. All until your assignment came along. Suddenly his biggest threat might not be the stalker watching your every move, but rather trying not to fall for the world's biggest pop star.

warnings: adult language, drinking, threats, stalker? idk let me know if i've missed something

length: 340

masterlist

Iceman sat wearily in his office, his eyes darted between the phone, and the letter on his desk.

Mine.

The word seemed to repeat in the letter over and over. If it were up to him, he'd light the thing on fire, but of course it was now needed as evidence, according to the police.

The words of your father ran through his head.

I don't care how you handle it Ice, just keep her performing, and get that damn album released. Soon.

He let out a tired groan, and before he could think too much of it, picked up the phone, hoping the number hadn't changed.

"Hello?"

Iceman let out a sigh of relief, "Mav. Thank god."

"Iceman?" he could hear the smirk in Maverick's voice, "Well I'll be damned. It's been a while. How's LA treating you?"

"Just great." Iceman groaned, "Look, I need your help, a big favour."

He heard Maverick chuckle, "You're asking for my help? This must be serious."

Iceman sighed, "It is. I need one of your guys. I'm not sure for how long, all I know is.." he paused, his voice hardening, "I need the best you've got."

"Are you okay? What-"

"I'll explain everything in a sec." Iceman interrupted, "Just.. I need someone I can trust, Mav."

There was a beat of silence, before Maverick sighed, "Rooster. I'll call him into my office, tell him he's got a new assignment."

"Thank you." Iceman said, "I'm grateful, really."

"I know you are." Maverick chuckled a little, "I assume you're not the one needing a bodyguard?"

Iceman glanced back down at the letter on his desk.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

You're father's words.

Get that damn album released.

"No." he eventually forced out.

Maverick sighed, "Rooster isn't gonna like this one bit. The kid's not exactly accustomed to the celebrity lifestyle, I gotta warn you."

"That's fine." Iceman grunted, "Once I tell you why she needs a bodyguard, you'll understand."

Maverick paused, hearing the shake in his old friend's voice. "Im listening."

---

A/N: chapter 1 coming soon! prepare for enemies to lovers vibes with this one :))

[foreignjaykay]

company (a jungkook fic)

part one - "you wish i'd miss you,"

company - a jungkook fic

can we keep each other company?

their workplace was chaos, but jungkook made it fun. their camaraderie was effortless—until he decided to leave. no big deal. people quit all the time. so why does it feel like everything is about to change?

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: r18+ (angst, fluff) minors do not interact!

chapter warnings/misc: workplace!au, coworkers!au, event planner!jk, event planner!oc, jk is not famous, angst, fluff, sad, crack, event planner!mingyu, bts in event planning company, unserious friend group, they are so silly and unserious, mean boss - yeah no she sucks, flirty!jk, dense af!jk, shy!oc, ANGST, IDIOTS both of them, yeah i guess thats it...for now hehe

notes: hello everyone!!! hehe its my first fic on tumblr and my first ever jk fic so i really hope you guys like it. im writing after so mant years so please ignore some mistakes. its kinda based on my experiences so yeah. its intentional whatever you are reading hauahahah, things will only get interesting as well progress.. lots of characters will come in the next chapter, this is just the base. It picks up from the second chapter!! anywho lets get into it!! <3

moodboard • playlist • series masterlist

The first thing you saw when you unlocked your phone this morning was a text from Jungkook. That in itself was weird—he wasn’t the type to be up this early, let alone texting people.

jaykay (work) [8:50am]: hi :)

you [8:50am]: oh my god. what did you forget?

jaykay (work)  [8:51am]: have some faith in me. i was texting for something entirely different. 😒

you[8:51am]: are you sick? held hostage? blink twice if you need help.

jaykay (work) [8:52am]: how da hell are u so dramatic in the morning

you [8:52am]: come to the point jungkook

jaykay [8:52am]: fine. 🙄 don’t bring lunch today

you [8:53am]: why?

jaykay (work) [8:53am]: lunch is on me. taking you, shane and mingyu out for ramen

you [8:53am]: 🤨🤨🤨

jaykay (work) [8:54am]: see you in office🥰

You squinted at the screen, trying to process the words through your morning haze. This man barely made it to work before noon on most days, always breezing in with an iced americano and a sheepish grin. And yet here he was, awake and making lunch plans at 9 AM? Suspicious. Very suspicious.

It’s fixed, you know? Him being late to work, getting sarcastic remarks from the bosses - Natasha, the reporting manager (god did she love micromanaging the team) and Kim Song, the director of your company.

But whatever, free ramen was free ramen and, on that note, you finally woke up and went to get ready for the weird day that was ahead of you.

By the time you got to the office, the usual chaos had already begun. Natasha, wasn’t physically present today, thank the lord for that, you thought, but her presence loomed over Zoom calls like a dark cloud. You had barely set down her bag before her laptop screen lit up with an incoming call. Does this woman ever chill?

“Good morning, team,” Natasha’s clipped voice rang out as the screen loaded. “Let’s go over the deliverables for today.” Her screen was hidden and she was on a holiday like she had very explicitly mentioned the week before she left.

You suppressed a groan as you saw Jungkook and Mingyu joining the call too. Shane, their CS intern, looked half-asleep. Jungkook, though, was oddly quiet, his usual playful banter nowhere to be seen. His leg bounced under the desk, fingers drumming against the tabletop.

You shot him a look, but he didn’t meet your eyes.

Okay that was weird, wasn’t it?

You looked towards Mingyu and Shane to see if they noticed Jungkook being a little off today but to your surprise they were engrossed on what Natasha was instructing on the upcoming event which was the luxurious Cartier dinner.

Classic Natasha, putting her work on us while she sips on pina coladas on the beach after this 10-minute meeting. You wanted to be as carefree as her sometimes, how easily she just threw her tasks on others.

Throughout the meeting, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Jungkook which thankfully he didn’t notice.

Or at least that’s what you thought.

Jungkook knew you. He knew how curious you got sometimes and he also knew currently the wheels were turning in your head wondering why he was being so awkward. He smiled internally, thinking how much you knew him and how much he was going to miss you.

If you kept looking at him like that, he was going to crack. He just hoped you wouldn’t figure it out before he told you himself.

Once the meeting was over, you quickly went towards the design studio in the office, greeting Yuna and So-hee who seemed like had just come to office with the way they were switching on their systems for the day.

“I really need the final design renders for the stage setup and the seating plan for Cartier, Yuna,” You said worried knowing that if you don’t get these renders in next half an hour then the costing would delay and then Natasha…yeah no.

Its as if Jungkook got a sign, he entered the design studio greeting Yuna, So-hee, and Dae and standing next to you as if to ease the tension you had going on.

“Babe, give me 10 minutes, the renders are ready. I’ll email it to you, Natasha and Namjoon,” Yuna said as she started working on her system. You nodded your head and gave her a worried smile.

“Mark me in the email too,” Jungkook said instantly and you gave him a pointed look. Yuna seemed to mirror your thoughts and raised her eyebrows towards him.

Seeing that you both were confused, Jungkook chuckles and says, “__, you should be happy that I am willingly asking to be marked on emails,” which makes you roll your eyes playfully and smirk.

“Also, I don’t have nothing big going on currently, project wise, so I’ll follow up for the costings and Natasha will stay away from my ass,” Jungkook continues and laughs with Yuna, So-hee and Dae.

You looked at him as he was sort of back in his carefree self but something still felt off. You just couldn’t put your finger on what this feeling was.

Lunch couldn’t come fast enough. The second Natasha’s second call for the day wrapped up the call, you shut your laptop and turned towards Jungkook who along with Mingyu and Shane was joking and was waiting for you to get done.

“Okay, spill. What’s with the mystery since today morning?” You immediately asked him and he couldn’t help but chuckle nervously.

Mingyu slung an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders, grinning. “Yeah, dude. You’re making me nervous.”

Shane, ever the observer, just raised a brow. “Is this about work? God I can’t wait to dig into some good ramen after hearing Natasha ramble since past 15 mins. 15 mins with her feel like 2 hours,” Shane continued rambling earning laughs from the three of you.

Jungkook let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s just get to lunch first.”

That didn’t help your growing suspicion, but you let it slide—at least until the 4 of you reached the ramen place.

The aroma of rich broth and sizzling garlic filled the tiny ramen shop. Shane and Mingyu were already practically vibrating with hunger, menus discarded, ready to order. You, however, were still scanning the options, your stomach rumbling in anticipation. Just as you were about to decide, you and Jungkook spoke in unison: “Japchae.”

A surprised laugh bubbled up. “You wanna have japchae too?” you asked, a little thrill of connection sparking despite the weirdness of the morning. He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips, and ordered for both of you.

Minutes later, steaming bowls of ramen and the shared plate of japchae arrived. The savory scent made your mouth water. You took a tentative bite of the japchae, the noodles perfectly chewy, the vegetables crisp and flavorful. It was delicious. But Jungkook just sat there, chopsticks hovering over his bowl. He had a strange expression—not quite annoyed, but… something. You knew that look. It was his tell when food was exceptionally good. That’s just his weird trait.

You took the second bite yourself to see if it was and it was really good.

“I got another job.”

Silence.

Your stomach dropped.

Then, Mingyu blinked. “Wait, what?”

Jungkook shifted in his seat, avoiding their gazes. “I got an offer from an event company. They handle production for A-list musicians—concerts, world tours, all of it.” But you could see how proud he was. This was his dream.

“Oh, shit, that’s huge,” Shane said, eyes wide and dramatically keeping his chopsticks on the side.

Jungkook looked at you trying to gauge for your reaction.

You swallowed, gripping your chopsticks a little tighter. “Wow. That’s… incredible, Jungkook.” You said genuinely but why did it feel so off? Why did it feel like you were losing everything? People leave jobs all the time and this is no different, so why was it feeling all to different suddenly?

When you congratulated him, you meant it. You really did. He deserved this. But there was a weird, hollow feeling in your chest. Something tight that you couldn’t quite name.

Jungkook was watching you and asked, “You okay?”

You forced a smile but to everyone it looked genuine. “Of course. This is a big deal. I am so happy for you, Jungkook!” Mingyu and Shane mirrored your smile and congratulated him to which Jungkook threw an honest smile.

His eyes still lingered for a second longer before he nodded, turning his attention back to his food. But you could tell he didn’t fully believe you.

Mingyu and Shane immediately started asking him the questions about his new company and the new job and Jungkook excitedly answered them all and you were interested too to know all the details.

Once the 4 of you were done with the lunch, you asked him, “So when are you telling Natasha?”

“Next week, and then 2 weeks’ notice,” He said looking at you as if he was trying to find an emotion out of you.

“Damn bro, you are leaving us so soon.” Shane said and you looked at Jungkook.

“Now at least I will have some proper desk space at the office,” You tried to joke which earned you a playful eye roll from Jungkook.

“Oh my god, I have to plan a farewell party for you now,” Mingyu joked and you laughed. For the whole lunch, this is the first time Jungkook noticed you genuinely smiling and it was all thanks to Mingyu’s dramatic nature.

The rest of the workday felt strangely off-balance. Even though nothing had technically changed yet, you felt the weight of the upcoming shift pressing down on you. The knowledge that soon, Jungkook wouldn’t be here anymore—wouldn’t be there to roll his eyes at Natasha’s ridiculous demands, wouldn’t be crashing at her desk with an iced coffee and a new piece of gossip, wouldn’t be around to share those unspoken glances when things got too absurd.

You had started hating how much that realization unsettled you.

It was Jungkook who got you out of your dazed thoughts when he said, “___, I have asked Namjoon hyung for the Cartier costing and he is working on it,”

You threw a sincere smile towards him and nodded while he went back on his desk and worked on some small projects he had going on.

gyu (work) [3pm]: are you okay?

Once you read the text, you immediately looked at him but he acted to be so engrossed in his work and you couldn’t help but look back into your phone and text back

you [3:01pm]: yeah, why?

gyu (work) [3:01pm]: you sure about that? ever since jk dropped that bomb, you have been quiet and so has he.

That got your attention. Were you that obvious?

you [3:02pm]: no nothing like that. im happy that he got this. he deserves it!! also when is the blue label bottle engraving costing going to the client? natasha has been on my ass about it since morning. send it asap please <33

gyu [3:03pm]: girl i gotta give it to you, nice attempt to change the convo but we aren’t done yet. ugh why are you my senior? im sending it in 5

By the time the day ended and finally the costings for Cartier had gone out (thanks to Jungkook and Joon), you had convinced yourself you were just being dramatic. People left jobs all the time. This wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t be a big deal.

Mingyu and Shane had already left for the day and the design studio was also empty leaving only you and Jungkook in the client servicing department. For a Monday, people had left earlier than usual, you thought to yourself.

You looked at the clock and saw it was 7pm already.

While you packed your bags, like routine, Jungkook waited for you. He dropped you home everyday given that you both lived nearby and your apartment came on the way to his.

However, the silence between the two of you felt heavier than usual.

“You’re quiet,” he finally said as the two of you entered the elevator.

You forced a laugh and adjusted your purse, trying to look anywhere but at him. “So are you.”

The two of you exited the elevator and sat in his car, he started the engine. For the first time ever, the silence between the two of you was uncomfortable.

Jungkook sighed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he took the familiar route and said, “Are you really happy for me?”

You immediately turned to look at him, meeting his gaze in the dim glow of the streetlights. “Yes, I am. Why would you think I am not?”

His smile was small, a little sad. “Alright. You and I haven’t spoken much since lunch,”

You didn’t know why, but something in your chest ached at that. But you ignored it,  and looking towards and giving him a smile and said, “Jungkook, I am so happy for you. I am. I know you wanted this and now you have it,”

For the first time in the whole day, he smiled genuinely at you.

“Will you miss me?,” He asked as he stopped the car right out of your apartment and looked at you with his doe eyes that carry the sta-

Wait what?!

You ignored whatever that thought was and quickly composed yourself and laughed at him. “You wish I would miss you,” You joked playfully and he rolled his eyes.

“On a serious note, yes I will. Who will I tolerate Natasha with?” You continued and he let out a small chuckle.

“Anyway I have to go. See you tomorrow boss,” you finally said, and then you were gone, disappearing into the building.

Jungkook sat there for a moment, staring after you.

He knew you better than you thought. He knew when you were genuinely happy, when you were just pretending, when you were holding back something you didn’t want to say. And tonight, you were definitely holding back.

Jungkook sighed, leaning his head back against the car seat. Leaving this job was supposed to be exciting, a step up, an opportunity of a lifetime. And it was.

But why did it feel like he was losing something, too?

© foreignjaykay

[capseycartwright]

inspired by that social media trend about taking your younger self for coffee. am feeling existential what can i say.

i met the younger version of myself for coffee, today. she was twenty minutes early, i was ten - some things never change, though i reassure her that her own time matters too, and she doesn’t always need to be so anxious about being left behind if she doesn’t get somewhere on time. the people who love her will wait, an extra five minutes.

she orders a flat white - i do, too. some things never change, though i try more new things now. i’ve recently gotten into matcha, i explain, and she furrows her brow in confusion, and i get it, really - coffee makes her feel more grown up in a world of adulthood she doesn’t feel ready to be a part of yet. it still does, in lots of ways, but she likes matcha now too.

i watch, as she picks at the skin around her fingernails and pinches the delicate skin of her wrist, an anxious tick that leaves cuts and bruises that take days and weeks to heal. you learn how to not do that, i promise, her head ducked with embarrassment as she tries to hide the fact she’s made her fingers bleed. you figure out better ways to cope.

she tells me about the boy she has a crush on - I don’t have the heart to tell her that he doesn’t feel the same, that he’ll only ever be a friend. that he’ll tell her he loves her, as a friend, in a crowded nightclub, and she’ll learn that sometimes people love you but don’t want you back. she sees the claddagh ring on my finger and frowns, at the direction it sits - she knows what it means. you’re single, still? she asks, and i nod - yeah, you are, and it’s okay, really, it is. i want to tell her that she does fall in love and she loses it and somehow it’s still one of her fondest memories, but i don’t want to spoil the experience of living it for the first time. i don’t want her to know how much it hurt, when it was over. instead, i reassure her she’ll turn the ring one day for the right person. we know who we’re looking for now. there’s peace in that, too.

she names her closest friends. i tell her they’re all doing so well - that years and distance and life pulled in different directions hasn’t changed the love she has for them. i tell her there’s new faces in her story too - friends from a year abroad that changes her life, friends from the place where she builds a life all on her own. i promise her she’s got a future filled with love, platonic, beautiful, magnificent love, the kind that always answers the phone when she calls, crying because the world feels so overwhelmingly lonely.

you’ll feel lonely sometimes still - but everyone does. i promise her she learns to find peace in the quiet of her life, and i don’t tell her much more. i want her to learn it for herself. there’s also some things i can’t bear to tell her - how bad, it’ll get, how she’ll lose one of the most important people in her life, not to death, no, but to disinterest, and how that feels worse, sometimes, because they chose to leave. i can’t bear to tell her that there’s times she’ll wonder if the cavernous ache in her chest is simply a part of her being, a pain no medicine can fix.

i don’t tell her any of that. instead, i tell her about her flatmates - the place she calls home and the girls she’s made a home with. i tell her she’s a really good cook, now, and that food is easier, now - fun, even - and she still reads at least one book a week and she’s got people to share her recommendations with. i explain she has a job that gives her such purpose and drive in life - and it’s not quite what she expected but it’s better, and it’s brilliant, and it changed her life when she took a chance on the interview all those years ago. i tell her she falls in love with writing, again, and she doesn’t lose that love this time. i tell her she’s got enough money to spend on all the makeup and skincare she wants and she does - she definitely does.

you’re almost 30, now, she points out, and i nod. aren’t you scared? she asks, still pulling at the sore, tender skin of her fingers. i wish i could reach out and get her to stop.

no, i promise. I’m not scared. i’ve built a good life - a good career. i ticked off the goals she’d shakily written on a list as she tried to figure out a path in life when she started at university. i don’t have a new list now - i’m taking it as it comes. that terrifies her, i know, but i think it amazes her, too, to know that with age comes confidence, a sense of calm - she needs that. i’m excited to grow older. she didn’t always want to.

she’s slow to drink her coffee - i am, too. we had lots to discuss and plenty i didn’t tell her. she’s got some of the best years of her life to come - and the worst, too - but there’s light at the end of the tunnel and not much left in the end of our coffee cups.

she shuffles awkwardly, as we move to leave. you’re happy? she asks.

i am, i promise. it just looks different than how you imagine it right now.

her shoulders are hunched, as she walks away, nearly 20 years old and uncomfortable in her own skin, desperate to hide, to make herself invisible. i’ll see her again, i know - in another 10 years, maybe, and she’ll be different then too, but she’ll still order a flat white and life will still be as beautiful as it is painful but she’ll learn to live in the light, most of the time.

i love her, in ways she doesn’t love herself yet - but she will. i hope i get to take her for coffee again soon.

[tsukisangel]

on top of the world <3

you sat on the bench as the coach was talking to the players about the upcoming games. you listened, trying to figure out what would be important for you to do. you studied the team’s faces, especially bokuto’s, making sure none of them seemed discouraged. bokuto did seem a bit upset over something. you couldn’t exactly tell what. you’d have to ask. the coach finished his talk, handing you the clipboard. then he was off with a short goodbye, and the players started to clean up the gym. you looked at the clipboard, humming a bit. then you set it down, trying to help the guys clean up. they never let you. bokuto insisted that you never had to help them clean up. you weren’t the one playing, they were. the others listened to him and agreed with him. sometimes you were surprised that he was captain, but other times it just seemed right for him. he was childish at times, sure, but he was definitely a good leader to his team. you sort of had a crush on him. that was definitely not important though.

you watched as they cleaned up, making a list in your phone’s notes to keep track of the things you’d need to do for the upcoming games. once they were done, they all went over to the locker rooms to get changed. all except bokuto and akaashi. you looked at them, seeing bokuto talking to akaashi about something. akaashi shook his head at him and gave him a sympathetic look, then walked away to the lockers. bokuto’s face fell, and he looked around. his eyes caught yours, and you walked over to him. “what’s wrong?” you asked.

“i need to practice my spikes more. i need more practice.” he said. “akaashi has to study tonight, so he can’t help.” he pouted.

you examined his pouty, sad face. well, you didn’t have anything important to study for. you’d done most of your homework while waiting for practice to get started. “i could help.” you offered, smiling warmly at him. “i might not play volleyball, but maybe i can be of some assistance.”

his eyes brightened and his frown turned into a wide grin. “really?” he asked excitedly.

“yeah.” you shrugged, spotting akaashi walk out of the locker rooms. “i’m not a nerd like akaashi.” you teased him, looking over at him. he rolled his eyes with a smile.

“thanks!” bokuto said happily, getting the basket with the balls. the rest of the guys started coming out, murmuring about bokuto still training, and staying after practice again. you shot them all a warning look. they quieted. they were his friends. they knew he’d do these things. he wasn’t forcing them to stay after, so what was the problem? you waved at all of them as they walked out, and they waved back and continued their original conversations.

you stood next to the basket. “you just want me to throw them to you?” you asked.

he nodded. “yeah. you’ve seen ‘kaashi do it, right?” he asked.

“uh, yeah.” you said. he seemed like he doubted it a bit, but he got in position anyway. you picked up the ball and threw it towards him clumsily. he didn’t hit it, but that was definitely your fault. 

he went over to you after grabbing the ball. “let me show you.” he said. you nodded, watching him throw the ball. “like that! does that help?” he asked. he was never good with words.

you picked up a ball, and threw it how he showed you. you were still a little clumsy, but your arms just needed to get used to the movements. “was that good?” you asked.

“yeah! perfect!” he grinned, grabbing both balls and setting them back in the basket. then he got in position.

you threw a ball to him again, and this time he hit it perfectly. he didn’t seem happy, so you kept throwing balls his way. you both kept going for an hour and a half, until bokuto sat down on the floor after a line shot that seemed like it hurt to hit, bringing his knees up with his arms lazily wrapped around them, only connecting by his fingertips due to how wide his legs were spread. his hair was losing it’s spikiness, strands starting to fall down over his face and sticking out of place. you furrowed your brows, walking over to him and sitting  next to him. “bokuto… is everything alright?” you asked.

“we’re going to nationals.” he said, only facing the floor. “and i’m not ready.” he said. 

“you’ve been to nationals before.” you said, a bit confused. “what’s the problem now?”

“this is my last one.” he muttered. “this is my last one and i have to do good or i can’t go pro.”

“you’re one of the top five aces in the country! the whole country.” you said. “you’re going to go pro whether you guys win or lose.” you put a hand on his shoulder. “don’t psych yourself out. you’ve been so excited.”

he finally turned his head up to look at you, resting it on his bicep. “you’ll be there?” he asked.

you smiled. “i’ll be there. i’ll be right next to you guys, watching from as close as i possibly can.” you reassured him. “you’ll hear me cheer for you.”

he lifted his head up, moving his hand to hold yours. his legs fell from the movement. he pulled you just slightly closer to him, and you heard your heartbeat in your chest. “i don’t want to disappoint you.” he muttered.

you shook your head. “you could never disappoint me.” you said softly, trying to hide the trembling in your voice as he got even closer. your breathing picked up, and you hoped he didn’t notice.

he held your now shaky hand in one hand, and moved another up to your cheek, holding it so softly, so gently, like you could break. your breath hitched, and he froze. you leaned into his touch though, assuring him that it was okay for him to go on. he looked in your eyes, then down to your lips. “thanks for being here.” he breathed.

“i’m always gonna be here.” you breathed back at him.

you felt his lips brush against yours as he slowly moved closer to yours. “you make me feel like i’m on top of the world.” he said.

this was the calmest and quietest you’d seen him for this much time. it could’ve been minutes, but it felt like hours.

then he closed the gap, and his lips were against yours. he was so gentle with you. his hand holding yours moved to hold your waist instead, to pull you against him. your hands moved to the back of his neck, holding him close to you. once he pulled away from you, you blushed. you could not believe what had just happened. he just grinned wide at you, which made your thoughts float away like butterflies.

you smiled. “confidence restored?” you asked.

“you kiddin’? it hardly left!” you laughed a bit, rolling your eyes at him. he stood and offered a hand to you. you gladly took it, standing up. “i’ll walk you home, let me clean up!” he said, rushing to clean up.

you moved to help, but of course he didn’t let you, so you just sat down and watched him. he threw the volleyballs into the basket, showing off to you and making you laugh. then he rushed to the locker rooms, probably rushed to change, and walked out, completely composed. 

you raised a brow at him as he walked over to you, holding his hand out for you to take. “my lady?” he offered.

you grinned. “thank you.” you took his hand, and he walked you home while holding your hand the whole way. you pressed a kiss to his cheek as a goodbye, and saw him grin and blush as he walked home.

[yoursinisforgiven]

UNSEEN ──

pairing: isaac x reader (pickel) 

cw: descriptive violence, consumptions of alcohol, reader and isaac are both paranoid.  

last part / series masterlist !

you are responsible for your own media consumption.

Blunt force trauma to the head. Three gunshot wounds to the legs. Four missing fingernails. A missing heart.

The words sat before you in neat, clinical type, but they may as well have been carved into flesh for how deeply they unsettled you. This wasn’t just a case. This was suffering made tangible, pain reduced to a list of injuries, yet it refused to be contained by mere ink. Someone had lived through this. They had felt every blow, every shattering impact against their skull, every burning bullet tearing through muscle and bone. They had felt their fingernails ripped from their hands, one by one. Had they screamed? Fought? Or had they been too weak by then?

Your stomach twisted, but you read the words again, as if repetition would dull the sharp edges of the horror they described.

It didn’t.

The folder sat in front of you, thick with crime scene photos and an autopsy report, bound together in quiet violence. There was always a body. Always the cold, clinical dissection of what had once been a person—cataloged, examined, broken down into facts. You needed to see it. The written words weren’t enough. You needed the images, the grotesque reality, the bloodstains, the lifeless stare. You needed to know exactly what you were dealing with, to let the full weight of it sink in.

But before you could reach for it, a firm hand slapped the folder shut.

“No.”

Isaac’s voice was curt, his eyes unreadable. He didn’t need to explain himself. The answer was final.

You stared at him, jaw tightening. “I’ve seen worse.”

The words nearly left your lips, but you swallowed them back. It wouldn’t change his mind.

And even if you said it, would it matter?

Would he even believe you if you told him about the things that haunted you? About the nights when crime scene photos from your past clawed their way into your dreams, distorting, twisting, becoming something worse? About the frozen, blood-slicked bodies of Ivan and Rhene, their deaths forever etched into your mind in vivid, merciless detail?

No. You hadn’t told him about that.

Just like you hadn’t told him about Vic. Or Asriel. Or the voice on the phone—the one that slid through the receiver like silk over a blade, dripping with a quiet, knowing amusement.

The study is quiet as you stand before his desk, but it’s not the kind of silence you’re used to. This time, it’s heavier, weighted with something unspoken, something lingering in the stillness between you. The air feels thick, charged, like the moment before a storm splits the sky. You know he feels it too. You can see it in the way his fingers rest just a little too stiffly on the edge of the desk, in the way his jaw tightens ever so slightly.

You decide to be the first to break it.

“What do we—what do we do?” Your voice wavers, not out of fear but out of something else, something tangled between uncertainty and dread. You place the documents back in front of him, watching as his eyes flicker downward, scanning the pages as if he hadn’t already committed every gruesome detail to memory.

But then he looks back up at you, and there’s something resolute in his gaze, something cold.

“We aren’t doing anything.” His voice is steady, deliberate. “I won’t let you get involved. Not in this.”

It’s the answer you expected, and yet it still grates at you.

You exhale sharply, rubbing at the tension in your temple. Of course. Of course, Isaac would do this—this weak attempt at shielding you from something that, in his mind, loomed too close, too dangerous. You knew he was paranoid. You had known that since the moment you met him. He saw shadows where there were none, traced threats in the air long before they took form.

So you don’t argue. Not this time.

Instead, with your legs growing numb from standing too long, you sink into the chair in front of his desk. The cold leather bites at your skin, the rich material stiff beneath your fingertips as you grip the armrest. The room feels colder than before, or maybe that’s just the weight of the case pressing in, curling around you like an unseen hand.

Isaac doesn’t say anything, just watches you with that unreadable expression of his, the papers between you a silent barrier.

Outside, the wind howls against the windowpane, rattling it in its frame.

You don’t know if it’s the case, the tension, or something else entirely, but for the first time in a long while, you feel like there’s something just beyond the edge of your vision—watching, waiting.

With a sharp exhale, Isaac reaches for his phone, his fingers tightening around it as if holding onto something more than just a device. His jaw tenses, eyes flicking toward the door as though already halfway out of the study. Then, without another word, he pushes himself up from the chair, the legs scraping faintly against the polished wood floor. His movements are brisk, controlled—but you can see it, the slight rigidity in his shoulders, the subtle clench of his fist at his side. A tell.

“I need to make a call,” he mutters, voice low and clipped, the weight behind those words pressing heavier than they should.

You don’t respond. You don’t need to.

He strides toward the door with purpose, his back to you, and before you can fully process the shift in atmosphere, the old wooden doors groan closed with a soft but decisive slam.

The sound shouldn’t make you flinch. But it does.

You let out a slow breath, willing your pulse to steady, but it does little to stop the way unease creeps along your spine. The study is silent now, save for the faint ticking of the grandfather clock nestled in the far corner—a metronome to the quiet dread settling in the air. The dim light from the storm-streaked windows casts distorted shadows along the bookshelves, stretching and shifting with each flicker of lightning outside. The once-warm glow of the desk lamp now feels weak, swallowed by the growing darkness.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. That the shift in atmosphere is imagined, a trick of the mind fueled by exhaustion and the weight of the case still heavy in your hands.

And yet.

There’s something about being alone in here that unsettles you. The study, a place that had always been filled with quiet conversation, with Isaac’s presence—a grounding force despite his paranoia—now feels abandoned, hollow. The books stacked on his desk seem untouched, their spines rigid and unmoving. The scent of aged paper and faint cologne lingers, but it does little to chase away the sensation that something unseen lingers just beyond your peripheral vision.

It’s ridiculous. You know that.

And yet the sensation only grows.

Your fingers tighten against the armrests of the chair before you abruptly stand, the movement too sharp, too sudden—as if you’re shaking off an unseen grip. The storm outside howls against the windows, the house settling with a deep groan that sounds too much like something breathing.

You won’t sit here and let your mind twist the shadows into something they’re not.

That would be pathetic.

You roll your shoulders, exhaling slowly through your nose, already forming an excuse in your mind. You aren’t leaving the study because you need more light, because the weight of the silence has begun to feel oppressive. No, of course not. That would be absurd.

You’re leaving because—Isaac needs coffee.

Yes, that’s it. Something warm to steady his nerves, something to distract yourself from whatever this feeling is gnawing at your subconscious.

You turn on your heel, crossing the room with purposeful strides, refusing to acknowledge the way the shadows seem to stretch as you move past them. Your fingers brush against the cold brass of the doorknob, and as you step into the dimly lit hall, the study doors creak shut behind you.

But even as you walk away, each step echoing against the wooden floor, that lingering sense of being watched does not fade.

──

The kitchen had become a sanctuary of sorts—well, a refuge of distraction, at least. It was the one place you could still hide, even if it was only from your own mind. The monotony of cleaning, organizing, slicing fruit, anything really, helped the time slip by. Your hands had found their rhythm, gliding over surfaces, moving jars and spices into place, brushing crumbs off the counters. The act was soothing, though it couldn't stop the creeping sense of dread that lingered in the back of your mind, settling like an unwanted weight on your chest.

The storm had passed, the wind outside dying down, but the atmosphere felt unnervingly still. The sky was an oppressive slate gray, thick with clouds that seemed to press down on the earth as if daring it to break. The air in the estate felt cold, heavy, carrying a damp chill from the rain that had soaked into the stone floors. The silence of the house had changed, too—it wasn't the calm quiet of an empty place but rather a thick, almost suffocating quiet, as though the house itself was holding its breath.

You were almost grateful for the simple task of making Isaac’s coffee. The routine of it was almost comforting in its predictability—black, no sugar, no cream. It was the smallest of rituals, one that Isaac preferred to keep simple. You knew this, of course. You had long learned the subtle ways of his quiet habits. He’d notice if you added anything extra, even the slightest hint of sugar. He'd ask, then raise that brow of his, sharp as a blade, and you'd feel the weight of his unspoken thoughts. No need for that today, though.

As you moved around the kitchen, placing the freshly cut fruit into the fridge and organizing the counters again—again—you tried to shake off the gnawing discomfort settling in the pit of your stomach. The thought of Isaac’s sharp eyes on you, his quiet expectations, seemed to make the air feel even heavier. But before you could shake it, before you could push past the unease, the front door knocked.

Three sharp knocks.

Like the beat of a drum, unmistakable and deliberate.

Your pulse kicked up instantly, a cold sweat dotting your skin despite the warmth of the kitchen. The sound echoed far too loud in the vast quiet of the estate. There was a brief, sickening pause in the air, as if the whole house was holding its breath along with you. Who? Who would be knocking at this hour? No one ever did. Not unless they had something they wanted hidden from view, something they didn’t want known.

You froze, your hand lingering on the coffee mug, your fingers tightening around the ceramic handle as if to ground yourself.

No one knocks.

You had already begun to hear a faint movement from upstairs—the quick, purposeful rhythm of Isaac’s footsteps descending. But you weren’t sure if you should feel relieved or more unsettled. You knew what that knock meant: danger, a threat, someone arriving uninvited.

But it didn’t make sense. You shouldn’t be feeling this way.

Isaac was here, wasn’t he? Isaac was always here.

Still, there was a tightness in your chest, a flutter of something unsettling twisting in your gut.

You watched as Isaac appeared in the hall from above, his expression unreadable. His phone still clutched in one hand, his fingers tapping against the side as if trying to work out some invisible anxiety. But the moment he set his gaze on the door, everything about him tightened, his jaw stiffening. No words were exchanged before he reached out and pulled the door open.

“Vic.”

Isaac’s voice, cool but clipped, rang out in the silence. The name hit you like a brick, unsettling, unfamiliar despite the fact that you knew the person it belonged to. Though oddly enough it brought comfort, he wasn't a threat—was he?

But it wasn’t just him.

As soon as Isaac stepped back, you could see the outline of a second figure standing just behind Vic. A shadowy shape, a silhouette barely visible in the dim light of the porch. But even that small glimpse sent your pulse into overdrive. Your stomach dropped, nausea flooding your senses like a heavy tide.

It wasn’t just Vic at the door.

It was someone else.

The second figure was standing too still, like they were watching the house just as much as they were waiting for Isaac to acknowledge them. The breeze from outside rustled through the hem of their coat, but they didn’t flinch, didn’t seem to mind the chill. 

Your mind raced. Who?

Could it be Asriel? It seemed unlikely, almost absurd, but the shadow felt like him. Like something unfamiliar yet entirely unsettling.

Or worse—could it be them? The thought made your breath catch. There was something about the way the stranger lingered on the threshold, half-hidden by the doorframe, that reminded you of the most dangerous kind of silence. It was a silence that didn’t care about the noise it left in its wake.

A sudden cold wave of nausea flooded you again, stronger this time. You hadn’t even noticed how your hand had tightened around the edge of the counter until the mug nearly slipped from your grasp.

Isaac, however, didn’t seem to notice your distress. His gaze focused on Vic’s, his eyes sharp, demanding. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the rigid way he stood. Whatever conversation was about to unfold was already hanging in the balance, an invisible thread ready to snap. The feeling in your gut was only growing stronger, more suffocating. What had they come for?

"He...llo."

The voice was hesitant, the syllables stretched just slightly, like they weren’t entirely sure they belonged. The accent was distinct, the English slightly broken, but that wasn’t what made your stomach knot. For a brief, terrifying moment, your mind convinced you that it was them—the voice on the phone given shape, stepping through the doorway like a nightmare made flesh.

But as soon as the thought took root, it crumbled. This wasn’t them. Something was different. And yet, despite that realization, something still felt deeply, inexplicably wrong.

Isaac stood rigid in the doorway, his head tilting just slightly as he looked at the figure. You couldn’t see his face from where you stood in the kitchen, but you knew him well enough to picture his expression—his gaze sharp and assessing, his lips pressed in that firm line he wore when something didn’t sit right with him. Then, his eyes flicked to Vic.

A long, quiet beat passed.

The exchange was silent, yet it carried weight. Isaac studied Vic, who, for once, seemed devoid of his usual playfulness. The easy smirks, the teasing remarks, the knowing glances—none of it was there. Instead, Vic’s face was unreadable, his posture uncharacteristically stiff. The shift unsettled you more than you wanted to admit.

Isaac turned on his heel, his voice clipped and firm. “Follow me.”

He didn’t look back, didn’t acknowledge you standing there. He simply started walking, his movements precise, controlled. Vic followed without a word, his usual swagger muted into something far more restrained.

And then, the stranger stepped into view.

Your fingers tightened around the coffee mug, the smooth ceramic pressing into your palm as you finally caught sight of them. At first glance, there was nothing wrong—no visible injuries, no blood, no unnatural distortions in their features. They were composed, their clothing neat, their expression neutral. But the moment your eyes landed on them, something in your gut twisted.

There was something about them that didn’t feel right.

The way they moved was deliberate, calculated, like each step had been measured before their foot even touched the floor. Their presence carried an eerie stillness, the kind that made the air in the room feel heavier, pressing against your skin like an unseen force. It was as if they weren’t just walking through the space—they were observing it, memorizing every detail with quiet intent.

Then, just as they were about to disappear up the stairs, they turned.

The movement was smooth, almost too smooth, as if they had expected you to be looking. Their gaze met yours, unwavering, unreadable.

Your breath caught.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, slowly, they raised a hand.

Their fingers shifted into a precise motion—something small, quick. A gesture.

It wasn’t a wave. It wasn’t a greeting. It was something else entirely.

The shape of it tickled the back of your mind, familiar in a way you couldn’t place. A wordless message, a symbol that meant something, though you had no idea what.

Before you could react, before you could even process the unease clawing at your chest, they turned away and vanished up the stairs, swallowed by the dim light of the hallway.

You remained frozen in place, the mug still clutched tightly in your hands, the coffee inside long forgotten. The storm outside had passed, but the weight in the air hadn’t lifted. If anything, it had only grown heavier.

──

You nearly stumble as you ascend the stairs, the weight of the tray in your hands forcing you to move carefully. Three glasses of whiskey—over ice—rest in a neat row, the amber liquid catching the dim glow of the hallway light. A fourth glass, filled with nothing but water, sits beside them. An afterthought, a precaution. You didn’t know this stranger—not their name, not their demeanor, and, worst of all, not their reason for being here.

At the door to Isaac’s study, you hesitate.

It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? You lived here. You had every right to walk in without a second thought. And yet, a strange discomfort settled in your chest, making you second-guess every movement. The tray balances precariously in one hand as you lift the other to knock.

But before your knuckles can even brush against the wood, the door swings open.

The stranger stands on the other side.

You freeze.

They say nothing, offering no explanation for how they knew you were there, no indication that they’d even heard you approach. Their face remains unreadable, their posture unnervingly still. The only movement comes when their hands reach out, steadying the tray in your grasp before you can fumble it. Their fingers brush against yours—cold, unnaturally so. A sharp contrast to the warmth of the whiskey glasses.

You swallow down the instinctual shiver that tries to crawl up your spine, forcing yourself to nod. “Thank you.” The words feel oddly formal, but it’s all you can manage.

The stranger steps aside, allowing you to enter. The door clicks shut behind you.

The study feels heavier than usual, the air thick with an unspoken tension. Shadows cling to the corners of the room, deepened by the storm-gray light filtering in from the windows. Isaac and Vic sit across from each other in their usual chairs, but something is different. Vic, who usually lounges with an air of careless amusement, sits upright, his fingers drumming once against the armrest before stilling. Isaac, sharp-eyed as ever, watches you place the tray on the low table between them, his gaze lingering for a beat too long.

You shift, unsure of where to position yourself. The stranger moves past you with effortless grace, their presence ghostly as they lower themselves onto the floor—at the foot of Vic’s legs.

That makes you tense.

Your eyes flick to Isaac instinctively, searching for any reaction, any sign of what this means. But his face gives nothing away.

Instead of sitting, you take a step back, resting your hand lightly on the back of Isaac’s chair, hovering near him rather than claiming a space of your own. It feels safer this way, though you avoid looking at anyone directly, focusing instead on the dark wood of the floorboards beneath you.

Vic exhales softly, reaching for one of the whiskey glasses. He lifts it, taking a slow sip before speaking.

"Asriel was busy with… someone. I'd doubt he had time to overhear the matter.”

He swirls the glass idly, watching the ice shift within it. Then, without ceremony, he delivers the next sentence like a casual observation.

"One of his men was found massacred," Isaac says, his voice even, unwavering. There is no hesitation, no trace of surprise—just cold acknowledgment. Because it isn’t a stretch. Not at all.

A silence follows, thick and oppressive. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in inch by inch. The soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner fills the space between breaths, between the slow rise and fall of Isaac’s chest, between the tightening of Vic’s jaw.

Vic exhales through his nose, fingers tightening around the glass in his hand. His grip is so firm that for a moment, you wonder if the glass might crack. He doesn’t sip this time. Doesn’t even glance at Isaac. Instead, his gaze flickers—once, briefly—to the figure at his feet.

"Details?" His voice is rougher now, edged with something unreadable.

Isaac shifts, his hand moving toward the stack of documents on the desk. He flips open a folder with careful precision, his fingers gliding over the pages as if the weight of their contents doesn’t bear down on him. But you know better. You see it in the slight press of his lips, in the way his shoulders hold just a fraction more tension than usual.

"Blunt force trauma to the skull," Isaac begins, reading from the report. "Three gunshot wounds to the legs. Four fingernails removed. And—" he pauses, only for a second, but it’s enough to send a chill down your spine, "the heart was missing."

Vic finally looks at him then, eyes narrowing. The stranger at his feet shifts, their movements fluid but slow, calculated. You still don’t know their name, but you can feel their gaze—measuring, dissecting.

"Let me see the autopsy," Vic says, his tone even but edged with something unreadable.

Isaac doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he turns his gaze to you, saying your name in a way that is both soft and firm, a gentle order. You hesitate only for a moment before moving toward his desk, your fingers grazing the smooth wood as you retrieve the folder. The weight of it feels heavier than it should, the pages thick with something far more sinister than mere ink.

As you walk back to the seating area, you keep your grip firm, careful not to crease the edges. You extend the folder toward Vic, but just as the exchange is about to be made, something cold brushes against your leg.

You freeze.

The touch is fleeting, barely there, but it sends a sharp jolt through you. It isn’t the hesitant brush of fabric or an accidental shift in movement. No, this was deliberate. Calculated.

Your breath hitches, but you force yourself to remain composed. The reaction is subtle—just the briefest hesitation in your step, the smallest intake of breath—but even that feels too much. You glance downward, though not enough to be obvious, catching only the faintest movement from the stranger seated at Vic’s feet.

They’ve already withdrawn their hand, their expression unreadable.

Did they mean to do that?

The question lingers, unwanted and intrusive, yet it burrows into your mind like a splinter. The stranger doesn’t look at you again. Their attention remains fixed elsewhere, their posture relaxed but too controlled, too aware.

If Vic or Isaac noticed, they don’t show it.

Vic takes the folder from your hands, flipping it open with an exhale. His eyes scan the contents, his fingers pressing firmly against the edges of the paper. His jaw tightens as he takes in the details, his expression darkening.

Isaac watches him, but his gaze flickers—just once—toward you.

He saw.

You’re sure of it.

But he says nothing.

You watch in near silence, your breath barely escaping your chest as Vic pours over the autopsy photos, his eyes scanning each gruesome detail. But it’s not just the disturbing images that keep your attention—it’s the figure at his feet, sitting still, too still. They haven’t shifted once since entering the room, their presence as unsettling as the storm now dying outside. The figure remains unnervingly calm, their posture too perfect, their face unreadable.

The figure shifts ever so slightly. A soft tug at Vic’s leg—almost imperceptible—yet, you feel it. Something about it feels like a signal, an invitation to a conversation no one else can hear. They raise their hand, falter, then let it drop like a feather, their movement too deliberate, too careful. There’s a strange kind of precision to them, like everything they do has meaning, like there is a language in their stillness.

Then, they lean in, their face close to Vic’s ear, their lips brushing against his skin. The whisper is low, almost inaudible, but Vic’s brows furrow deeply, his eyes narrowing as he tilts his head towards the photos again. A flicker of tension crosses his face—something in what they said has shifted his focus.

"Who gave you the case?" Vic asks suddenly, his voice low but cutting through the still air like a blade. His eyes don't leave the photos as he speaks, but you feel the question settle in the room like a heavy stone.

Isaac answers without missing a beat, his voice taut, betraying no emotion. "It was an anonymous sender."

Vic’s attention snaps away from the pictures, and he turns to face the figure at his side. His gaze is unwavering, and you can almost hear the unspoken questions between them. “They say it’s a setup,” Vic murmurs, his voice growing darker, more dangerous. He leans forward, studying the photos with a renewed intensity. “The man had at least been dead for three days.”

The words feel like they’re sinking into the air, thickening it with their weight. The implications of them gnaw at you—this wasn’t just a crime scene, wasn’t just a murder. It’s something far more calculated, far more deliberate. The body had been left to be found, yes, but who left it? And why?

Three days. The man had been dead for three days.

The words hang in the room like a bitter taste, and you feel it—the invisible thread of tension that grows tighter with every second. Whoever killed this man didn’t simply leave him to die. They made sure the body was found. Made sure it would be discovered. The meticulousness of it. The planning.

Vic doesn’t speak right away, his mind racing over the new information. He looks back down at the photos, then to the figure beside him, and you notice—just for a split second—the slightest shift in their expression. A flicker of something. Recognition? Concern? It’s too fleeting for you to place, but it’s there, undeniable. And it sends a shiver down your spine.

Then, the figure does something even more unsettling. They lean forward again, their voice a whisper you can’t hear, their words meant only for Vic. You can’t help but strain to catch even a fragment, but nothing. The air feels thick with secrets, suffocating in its quiet.

The room is charged now—silent, expectant, the weight of unanswered questions hanging over all of you. This isn’t just a murder. There’s more beneath the surface, and everyone in this room knows it. The mystery deepens, curling tighter around your throat with every word, every glance exchanged. But it’s the figure—who they are, what they know—that makes your skin crawl the most. They aren’t just here as a passive observer. They’re part of the puzzle, and somehow, you feel they’re the key to unlocking whatever darkness is lurking just out of sight.

But what are they hiding? What is Vic really seeing in those photos? What secrets is he keeping, and how much of it does this figure truly understand? The unsettling quiet that fills the space between them makes your pulse quicken.

Vic stands abruptly, the chair scraping against the hardwood floor with a sharp noise that cuts through the tension hanging in the air. He places the folder back on the table, closing it with a deliberate finality, the sound of the paper pressing together sending an unsettling ripple through the room. The figure rises almost simultaneously, their movements fluid, too coordinated, as if they were anticipating every step of Vic's. Their gaze shifts toward Isaac for a brief moment before they silently follow him towards the door.

"Mail me a copy of the documents," Vic's voice is low, the words measured, deliberate. "I’ll make sure it gets to Asriel as soon as possible." His eyes flicker back to the folder, scanning it one last time, his expression unreadable. The weight of the moment seems to settle around him, and his voice drops even further, carrying a subtle but ominous weight. "As for now, don't directly pursue the case. Keep gathering details. I'll see what I can find on my own. Keep me updated."

Isaac nods sharply, his posture stiff, betraying no emotion as he acknowledges Vic's instructions. His eyes flicker briefly to the figure, who stands unmoving, almost too still, a presence that seems to demand attention even without a word. There’s something about the way they stand there, almost as if waiting for something—waiting for you to react, to move, to understand.

Isaac strides toward Vic, his footsteps heavy and firm, the sense of finality in his actions palpable. The silence that follows his departure towards the door is thick, suffocating. It feels like the entire world is holding its breath.

Vic turns his back to you for a moment, heading toward the door. You can’t help but watch the figure as they stand by the doorframe, not moving, not speaking. The air around them seems to hum with an unnerving energy, something sharp and unfamiliar, like the stillness before a storm. You feel as though there is more to them, more lurking just beneath the surface of their unsettling calm.

As Isaac opens the door, a part of you wishes you could stay in this room, away from whatever lurks beyond it. But Vic doesn’t look back, the figure, though, does. Their gaze lands on you briefly, their eyes meeting yours with an intensity that sends a shiver crawling down your spine. For a split second, you wonder if they know something you don’t. If they’ve been watching you, all this time, gathering pieces of a puzzle you can’t quite see.

Then, without a word, the figure raises their hand, moving in the same deliberate way they had earlier when they first arrived. The gesture is eerily familiar, as though it holds a hidden meaning, a language you can’t decode. Their fingers twitch and hover in mid-air, an almost imperceptible motion before they drop their hand quickly. Their eyes flicker one more time toward you before they turn and slip through the door behind Vic.

The door shuts softly behind them, and you are left standing in the study, the weight of their departure settling heavily in the pit of your stomach. For a moment, you simply stand there, uncertain, lost in the echo of silence that now hangs in the room.

The storm outside has cleared, but the air inside feels colder than ever.

You are alone now.

But it doesn’t feel like you’ve been left with peace. Something is off. Something is wrong. The case—the body, the figure, the whispered conversations—all of it has the sharp, jagged edge of a trap, waiting to close in around you. And in the back of your mind, you hear it. The question that refuses to fade: What are they really after?

The quiet stretches out before you, as you stare at the closed door, unsure of what to do next. But you know this much—whatever is coming, it’s far from over. And the next step could be the one that unravels everything.

You don’t know how much longer you can keep running from the truth.

──

author's note: i apologize for the spam posting, i've just found my love and motivation for writing again!

tag list :

@ysawdalawa @rain-soaked-sun @tanksbigtiddiedgf @sdfivhnjrjmcdsn @lil-binuu @colombina-s-arle @xxminxrq @souvlia @meraki-kiera

[coupsoficecream]

Sacrifice - ot13

About:

She is not an ordinary girl. She was born with a curst to see through someone future. One day, as she was having a good time with her favourite idols, she accidentally drop her glasses and see through their future and it's not like how she was expected it to be. Infact, it is worser than she thought to. Now, the only one who can save the biggest kpop group in the world is you, Shin Y/n.

Pairing:

ot13 x reader

Warning:

Angsty, Mention of death, Death

Genre:

Angst, Fluff

Song:

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The concert ended up to be bad. But not because of your idol, it was technically because of your ability to see through someone future. Wearing a glasses helps you alot in this cases but have you ever thought that someone will break your glasses just because you accidentally drop it and that person decided to step on it.

It was the worst experienced you've ever had.

No one realised about your broken glasses. Everyone are so tensed and focused to their idols.

Your hand reach out for your broken glasses, carefully bend down as everyone around you are screaming, jumping in a cloud of nine to see their idols performs at the stage.

Unfortunately, someone decided to kick it when you're almost reach over your glasses.

You let out a loud sigh.

At first, you wanted to asked the girl to take it for you but it's such a waste of time. No one seems to give their attention towards you. So, you decided to brush it off and buy a new one from your grandfather since he's the only one who knows about your ability.

Hence, you avoided any eye contact since you don't want to intrude someone privacy.

When you're younger, you thought this is a good opportunity for you to change someone bad future to a better one but as you growing older, you realised, it will the best for you to not use it since it will grow so much trouble in your life.

Because once you saw it, you're no longer safe. Infact, you're tied with their faith.

Plus, if you help them, the faith might as well switch to you.

And here you are, gasping for an air, your eyes widen when your idol, Choi Seungcheol decided to throw a glace to you and give you big smile.

Yes, you're supposed to scream out of happiness but you can't

Because you just saw a picture of him dying. And to much worser, you see everyone's dying, not only him, but the whole seventeen idols.

Your hands are shaking, tears fell out from your eyes, one of your hand still covering your lips. You can help to let out a silent sobs and decided to take a leave for a bathroom.

Out from your luck, Seungcheol noticed about it and told the bodyguard to check on her.

"Ma'am, are you alright?"

A few knocks heard from outside the bathroom yet you're still crying. Your mind went blank. You don't know what to do. It is too much for you to handle.

It's been a long time since you had to handle this things. After 5 years not seeing someone future, finally, someone broke the wall and show the true nightmare.

Another knocks follow by and this time you decided to answer it by telling the bodyguard that you're just having a bad headache.

As soon as the bodyguard leaves, you washed your face and bring back yourself to the reality.

"Y/n. Think. Think!"

You hit your head a few times to force your brain on giving ideas to save them. Because you can't afford to lose them.

They're your life.

Your lifesaver.

And this time, you gratefully sacrifice yourself to change the faith.

Time pass by and you didn't realised that it been so long since you sat in the toilet, waiting for the right ideas to pop out.

Soon, you go back to your seat and enjoy the concert while it lasts. Because you know, you only have 3 hours to change the faith.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You walk out from the concert and look forward to your phone. This time, you only have 2 hour 5 minutes to change the faith of Seventeen.

Thanks to your pocket doraemon, you pick the black mask and wore it before going to the back stage, acting like a one of the staff.

As you walk around and dig some information about their activities after this, someone decided to give a heartattack towards you.

"Who are you? I've never seen you before"

You turn around, an anxious feeling creep in your mind.

"Me? Urm- I'm one of the new staff, I was assign to clean the stage"

Nice one, y/n.

"Ohhh, since you're a new staff, let me introduce myself, I'm the knight of Seventeen group, name Lee Seokmin but known as Dk"

He said, a proud smile drawn on his lips. His hand flip his hair slowly and you find your heart flutter a bit.

"I know"

"What?"

"I meant- everyone knows who you are"

You smile awkwardly as you try your best to avoid an eyecontact.

"Right, you're right. Alright then, see you later!"

Once he was gone, you smile widely, heart bumping fast and you can't help to jump out of happiness because that is your first time interacting with him and God, he's so gorgeous. But soon, you quickly brush it off and focus on your mission.

After a few minutes, you walk over the parking lot and find the exact van that they will be using to go to their hotel.

Fortunely, it didn't take so long for you to find it and you rush towards the van, make a puncture on the tire. So, the van wouldn't be working and you make sure to make it obvious.

But as you were about to do it to the other van, someone caught you off hand and it's non other than Kim Mingyu.

"What are you doing?!"

"Shit-"

"Hey! there's someone-"

Your hand find itself on his mouth when he was about to shout out. But he quickly push you off as you forgot how strong and big he is.

"Are you a sasaeng?!-"

"No! Please, can you please listen to me-"

"Why would I?! I'm going to tell the others, come and follow me!"

Once he about to bring you with him, you accidentally speak the silent truth towards him.

"You guys are going to die!"

"What?!"

He looks at you much more angrier, thought that you're threatening him.

"N-no! It doesn't meant like that! It just-"

You let out a huge sigh and tell him slowly.

"I'm trying to save you guys.."

"Are you crazy?"

The same word that you heard from your mother 5 years ago.

"No! Please listen to me for once! I promise, I'm not a sasaeng or a bad person-"

"And what if you are?"

"You can punch me and send me to the police station"

He let out a heavy sigh and turn his body towards you, ready to listen even thought half of his mind is screaming to not listen to you since you're just a stranger to him and you might as well cause him any harm.

While the other half is telling himself that if the girl would like to hurt him, he would have died by now yet he's still breathing.

"First of all.. my name is Shin Y/n. I'm telling you this so you can report my name to the police if i tried to kill you or anything"

"Secondly.. I'm doing all of this just because I wanted to protect all of you"

"For what? We can protect ourselves-"

"I can see someone future"

"What?!"

"That's why I'm trying to stop you guys from going back home-"

You quickly pull him to hide with you when you see his friends finally came out from the backstage. Ready to go back home.

A sudden rush, fasten your heartbeat and you can't help to imagine the lost of your lovely idol.

"Listen to me, at 11.30p.m. , a big accident will happen and I need you to tell the driver to avoid using the main road"

"Does it meant, we will die if we-"

"Yes. Since we doesn't have an enough time, that's the only way to do it"

"Is there any other way?"

"What?"

For a moment, you tried to processing. Yes, there's another way but-

"Any other way?"

You look at him for awhile, glad that he's wearing a glasses so you aren't able to see his future, yet a flash of earlier memories play right onto your eyes about the accident and you can't help to bit your lips.

"Sacrifice"

"What?"

Another silent goes on as you find yourself biting your lips again.

"Just don't go anywhere till the clock past 12 p.m."

As he was about to reply, you quickly shove yourself out and hide yourself behind the bushes.

"I hope he trust me"

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"We can't go back home"

"What do you meant?"

"The tires broke, we need to wait for the new van to arrives and it will take around 30 minute for them to arrive"

Everyone groans tiredly when Scoups decided to shout out the bad news towards them.

While everyone sighing, trying to find a spot for them to rest. Kim Mingyu just lean over the wall, rethinking about the information that he received earlier.

He can't help to doubt it.

But something inside him telling him that you're telling the truth. Even if you lied, he can find you since you already told your name to him.

Plus, he saw a Minghao pcs and his pcs on your bag. You also hold onto the lightstick which is pretty obvious that you're a carat.

And why would a carat kill them right?

"Hey"

"Are you okay?"

Mingyu look at Jeonghan as he can't help to feel scared.

"I'm okay.."

"Are you sure?"

He stuttered, can't help to tell him the things that he heard from you.

"If you have anything to tell, you can just tell me. C'mon, we're bros"

He let out a nervous chuckle. When he was about to spill it, Scoups shout out loud towards everyone at the backstage.

"Guys! the van is here!"

Jeonghan quickly pat him on shoulder and told him to tell him once he's ready.

Once he leaved, Mingyu look at the clock and there are 15 minutes left before 12 p.m.

"Why does the van arrive so early, haish"

A shot of anxiety hit him, he tried his best on persuaded his brothers to stay here for a little bit longer by giving some excuses.

Yet no one cares because they are too tired and Mingyu totally understood because he's also feel the energy in him slowly draining.

"Sacrificed"

Those words keep repeating in his mind, can't help to think about the real meaning of it.

Soon, he decided to brush it off since it's already 11.58p.m. by the time they go. Plus, you only said to him that the accident will happen at 11.30 p.m. but never said why you told him to stay at there until 12p.m.

Time goes by, everyone in the van are already in the deep slumber. Some of them are snoring loudly and some of them is hugging each other while sleeping.

Out of a sudden, the van break suddenly, awaken them from their sleep.

"What happen?"

"There's an accident, I'm sorry for the sudden break"

"It's okay-"

Mingyu eye's open widely when he heard the word of 'accident'. He push everyone out of the way and jump out from the van. Everyone tried to stop him but all he ever thinks right now is your word.

"Sacrifice"

'Does that meant, she have to sacrifice for us?'

He keep thinking about it as he run along the traffic jam.

Once he arrives, he sees a big lorry turning upside down and everyone are taking a picture of the lorry. Yet no one realised about the car that was thrown in the bushes.

And Mingyu notices about it.

He run over to the car, through the bushes and find the car was empty. As he was about to look further, he heard a voice behind him.

"M-mingyu?"

He turn around to find you lying on the ground, blood everywhere. The feeling of guilty build inside him.

Only if he stop them till 12p.m. , you might not be in this situation.

"Go"

"What?"

"Go. Don't save me"

"What are you talking about?! You're dying, you need help from the medic"

"It's useless"

"Nothing use-"

"To avoid you guys from dying, sacrifice is the only way to do it"

"What do you meant-"

"Just let me do it. Please..."

"Why?"

You let out a small smile through the pain all over your body. You feel ache everywhere and you can't help to feel helpful because you finally manage to change someone faith.

"You guys once save me from dying, let me just-"

Suddenly, someone shouted out his name, searching him throught the bushes. It's pretty dark, it's impossible to see him through these big bushes.

"Mingyu?! Where are you?!"

All of your last strength were being used to push him away from your bloody body.

"Go"

"Even if you help me, i'll still died. Trust me." You continued.

He let out a few heavy breath, tears ran out on his cheeks. He can't help to feel useless. You're nothing to him. You're a stranger. But the stranger who sacrifices themself is a carat.

Infact, he was once trust that carat only love him because of his physical body and his attractive face. And today, you proves to him how much adoration that they receives from the fans.

"Thank you"

You chuckle through the pain when you both said thank you in sync.

Soon, you find yourself watching the moon, a soft smile appear on your lips as you can't help to feel helpful and relieve when Mingyu leave.

"Mom.. I finally did it"

And for the last time, you heard a few voices, screaming for helps when they noticed about your present. By the time medical arrives, you already find yourself in a darkness, welcoming the death that finally reach over you.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[tommygotwrittenoff]

things i think buddie would argue about after moving in together: buying organic, the tupperware cabinet, couch throw pillows, the coffee maker

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~